Killashandra by Anne McCaffrey Read Free Book Online Page A

careful passage through the tumbled parcels as he passed her to lead the way. She noticed that the hair on his neck, indeed the dark body hairs that escaped the sleeveless top he wore, were piercing the thin stuff, all at right angles to his body.
    This was no longer an amusing manifestation. Just another fascinating aspect of crystal singing that you
don’t
hear about in that allegedly Complete Disclosure! It should be renamed “A Short Introduction to what’s really in store for you!” One day, no doubt, she would be in the appropriately damaged state to give All the Facts.
    The Mate had stopped, flattening himself against the bulkhead, and gestured toward an open door.
    “Your quarters, Crystal Singer. Your thumbprint will secure the door.” He touched his fingers to a spot above his right eye and disappeared around the corner as if chased by Galormis.
    Killashandra pressed her thumb hard into the door lock. She was pleasantly surprised by the size of the cabin. Not as big as any accommodation she had enjoyed on Ballybran but larger than her student room at Fuerte and much more spacious than that closet on the Trundomoux cruiser. She slid the door shut, locked it, and put the packages down on the narrow writing ledge. She looked at the bunk, strapped up to the wall in its daytime position. Suddenly she was light-headed with fatigue. Strong emotion is as exhausting as cutting crystal, she thought. She released the bunk and stretched herself out. She exhaled on a long shuddering sob and tried to relax her taut muscles.
    The hum of the ship’s crystal drive was a counterpointto the resonance between her ears, and both sounds traveled in waves up and down her bones. At first her mind did a descant, weaving an independent melody through the bass and alto, but the rhythm suggested a three-syllable word—Lan-zec-ki—so she changed to an idiot two-note dissonance and eventually fell asleep.
    Once she got over the initial buoyancy of self-sacrifice aboard the
Pink Tulip Sparrow
, Killashandra vacillated between fury at Trag and wallowing in despair at her “Loss.” Until she concluded that her misery was caused by Lanzecki—after all, if he hadn’t made such a determined play for her affections,
he
wouldn’t have become so attached to her, nor she to him, and she wouldn’t be on a stinking tub of a freighter. Well, yes, she probably would.
If
all Trag had told her about the Optherian assignment was true. In no mood to be civil to either the crew or the other passengers, she stayed in her cabin the entire trip.
    At Rappahoe Transfer Point, she boarded a second freighter, newer and less unpleasant than the
Pink Tulip Sparrow
, with a lounge for the ten passengers it carried. Eight were male and each of them, including the only attached man, stood quickly at her entrance. Plainly they were aware that she was a crystal singer. Equally apparent was the fact that they were willing to put scruples aside to discover the truth of the space flot about singers. Three of them desisted after their first hour of propinquity. Two more during the first evening’s meal. To have one’s hair constantly standing on end seems like a little thing but so is a drop of water patiently wearing away a stone. The bald Argulian was the most persistent. He actually grabbed her in the narrow companionway, pressing her close to his body in an ardent embrace. She didn’t have to struggle for release.
    He dropped his arms and slid away, flushing and trembling. “You’re shocking.” He scrubbed his arms andbrushed urgently at those portions of his body which had been in contact with her. “That’s not a nice thing to do to a friendly fellow like me.” He looked aggrieved.
    “It was all your idea.” Killashandra continued on to her quarters.
And another singer legend is spawned
!
    The female captain of the third freighter, which she boarded at Melorica, bluntly informed her that, under no circumstances, would she tolerate any short term