The drink did clear the last miasma of the threshold test from her senses, making her feel incredibly alert. All the better preparation for psychological testing.
Killashandra had always had mixed feelings about that sort of evaluation – so much might depend on one's frame of mind at that particular hour, day, and year. She experienced her usual half hearted desire to give all the wrong answers, but this was coupled with the keen awareness of self-competition. Too much depended on the exams. She had no need to play any of the games she might have risked at other levels and times. She could not, however, comprehend the purpose of some questions that had never been asked during any other evaluation session. Of course, she'd never applied to the Heptite Guild before, so their criteria were bound to be different. Nor had she under gone a computerized verbal address psych test before, which was generally conducted face to face with a human examiner.
Toward the last few moments of the session, the speed of questioning increased to the point where she was actually sweating to produce answers to the displayed questions in an effort to keep up the pace.
She could still feel her heart racing when the Guild man returned, this time bearing a tray with steaming food packs.
“Your aptitude tests will be presented after you've eaten and rested. You may request entertainment from the fax or sleep.” At his words, a contour couch appeared from a storage area. “When you are ready, inform the computer and the final examination will begin.”
Killashandra was ravenous and found the nutritious meal delicious. She sipped the hot beverage slowly and asked for soothing Optherian “balances” to clear her mind of the tensions caused by the last portion of the psych tests.
In her previous evaluation sessions, the manner of the human attendants had often indicated the level of her performance – and she was accustomed to scoring high. But the Guild tech had been so impersonal, she couldn't guess how she was doing.
After she'd finished her meal, she elected to continue and signaled her readiness. Whereupon she was tested for pitch, the severest evaluation of that faculty she'd ever endured, including estimates of vibrational errors and unnerving subliminal noises below 50 and above 18,000 cycles. That recorded, the testing moved on to deceptively complete hand-eye coordination's that again left her drenched with sweat. She was run through a series of depth perception exams and spatial relationships. The latter had always been one of her strong points, but by the time the session was over, she was wrung out with fatigue and was shaking.
Maybe it was wishful thinking on her part, but when the meditech returned, she fancied something of respect in his glance.
“Killashandra Ree, since you have completed the first day's examinations up to standard, you are now the guest of the Guild. We have taken the liberty of transferring your personal effects to more comfortable quarters in the Guild block. If you will follow me . . .”
Ordinarily, such an action, taken without her consent, would have constituted an invasion of privacy, but her energies were too depleted for her to summon up a protest. She was led deeper into the Guild block, down three levels from the main and the only entrance, or exit, to the rest of Shankill Base. Her easy penetration of the hallowed precinct amused rather than alarmed her. There was really no need for her to be isolated from the rest of the base population after what were very standard examinations. Except for the pain-threshold test, she had nothing to warn any other prospective applicant about. Unsuccessful applicants would be more dangerous to the Guild because of their disappointment. What happened to them, she wondered? What, for instance, had become of the angry Carigana? She'd be glad to be out of that one's vicinity in the event of her failure. And where were Rimbol and that irritating, twitchy young man, that Shillawn something?
How far into the Guild did she have to go to get this free room and board, she wondered, fatigue irritating her. She desired nothing more than to stretch out and sleep. She felt as drained as she had the night of the final student concert. How long ago was that now? In terms of distance or time? She had no patience with her own conundrums. How much farther now?
The Guild man had paused at a door, which slid open.
“If you'll put your print on file, you will find your belongings within. At the end of this corridor is a common lounge, although you will also find catering facilities in your room. Tomorrow you will be summoned for the final phase.”
A bleep from the man's wrist-unit curtailed any questions she might have asked; for he acknowledged the reminder, inclined his head politely to her and retraced his steps.
She placed her thumb in the depression for the print lock and entered her new accommodation. It was not only larger – spacious in comparison to the hostel room – it was also more luxuriously appointed. A chair was drawn up to a small table, already set with a beaker of brew from the catering panel, which was lit. Killashandra gratefully sampled the drink, noting that the menufax was set to fish selections. She wondered just how much information the Guild had already had programmed about her since she had given her name, planet of origin, and rank. Deliberately, she spun the display to other proteins and ordered what was described as a hearty casserole of assorted legumes and a light wine.
She had just finished her meal when the door announced a visitor. She hesitated a long moment, unable to imagine who would be calling; then the door added that the visitor's name was Rimbol, who required a word with her. She pressed the door release.
Rimbol leaned in, grinning. “C'mon out for bit. Just for a drink. It's free.” Then he winked. “Neither Carigana nor Shillawn are present. Just some others who've already passed their prelims. C'mon.”
The amusement in his wheedling voice was the deciding factor. Killashandra knew herself well enough to realize that even if she tried to sleep, she'd only play back the tests and become so depressed over omissions and commissions that she'd never achieve a true rest. A few drinks and a bit of relaxation in Rimbol's infectious company would do her much more good, especially if both Carigana and that nervous Shillawn were absent.
She was a bit taken aback, however, when 'just some others' numbered twenty-nine. Rimbol, sensing her surprise, grinned and gestured at the catering area. “A brew's what you need. This is Killashandra,” he announced in a slightly raised voice to the room in general. Her presence was acknowledged by slight nods or smiles or a brief hand gesture. A certain degree of informal companionship was already enjoyed by the others. The group, involved in some sort of four-player card game, didn't even look up as she and Rimbol collected their drinks.
“You make thirty, you know,” Rimbol said as he guided her to a seat on the one unoccupied lounger. “Shillawn and Carigana thirty-two, and there's supposed to be one more going through prelim today. If that's a pass, it means we'll all go down to Ballybran tomorrow.”
“That is, if no one gets scared after disclosure,” said a girl who wandered over to join them. “I'm Jezerey, late of Salonika in the Antares group.”
“I didn't think they canceled after disclosure,” Rimbol said, frowning in surprise.
"You may well be right, but I do know that thirty is the smallest group they'll train," Jezerey went on, settling herself on the couch with a long sigh. "I've been waiting seven weeks standard." She sounded disgusted. "But Borton" – and she gestured toward the card players – "has been here nine. He'd just missed a class. Nothing will make him decline. I'm not so sure about one or two of the others and we've got a few to spare. Rimbol says that nothing would unpersuade that Carigana, and from the look on her face when old Crookback brought her in, I'm as glad she decided she didn't like us either and stayed in her room. Space workers are odd lots, but she's – she's – "