“Ever the optimist, Killa?” Rimbol asked. He must have been standing behind her a while.
“Well, I prefer that role to hers.” She inclined her head sharply in Carigana's direction. “She's beating her gums over ways to break a contract that we were warned was irrevocable.”
“D'you suppose they count on our being obstinate by nature?”
“Obviously, they have psychologists among the membership.” Killashandra laughed. “You want what you can't or shouldn't have or are denied. Human nature.”
“Will we still be human after symbiosis?” Rimbol wondered aloud, cocking his head to one side, His eyes narrow with speculation.
“I can't say as I'd like Borella for an intimate friend,” Killashandra began.
“Nor I.” Rimbol's laugh was infectious.
“I did hear her come out with a very human, snide comment on the shuttle.”
“About us?”
"In general. But I liked Carrik. He knew how to enjoy things, even silly things, and – "
Rimbol touched her arm, and the glint of his blue eyes reminded her of the look in Carrik's when they'd first met.
“Comparisons are invidious but . . . join me!”
Killashandra gave him a longer, speculative look. His gaiety and ingenuous appearance, his gregariousness, were carefully cultivated to counterbalance his unusual coloring. The expression on his face, the warmth of his eyes and smile, and the gentle stroking of his hand on her arm effected a distinct change in her attitude toward him.
“Guaranteed Privacy between members of equal rank.” His voice was teasing and she had no desire to resist his temptation.
With Carigana's strident voice in their ears, they slipped down the corridor to her room and enjoyed complete Privacy.
The next morning Tukolom marshaled Class 895, some of whom were decidedly the worse for a night's drinking.
“Borton, Jezerey, also Falanog, qualified are you already on surface and shuttle craft. To take your pilot cards to Flight Control on first level. Follow gray strip down, turn right twice, Guild Member Danin see. All others of this class with me are coming.”
Tukolom led without turning to discover if he was being followed, but the class, sullen or just resigned, obeyed. Shillawn stepped in behind Killashandra and Rimbol.
“I figured it out,” he said with his characteristic gulp. His anxiety to please was so intense that Killashandra asked him what had he figured out. “How much it will all cost until we start earning credits. And . . . and what the lowest credit rating is. It's not too bad, really. Guild charges at cost and doesn't add a tariff for transport or special orders.”
“Having done us to get us here, they're not out to do us further, huh?”
«Well» – and Shillawn had to shuffle awkwardly to keep a position where his words would be audible only to Rimbol and Killashandra – «it is fair.»
Rimbol shrugged. “So, what is the lowest Guild wage? And how long will it take to pay off what we're racking up just by breathing?”
«Well» – Shillawn held up his jotter – «the lowest wage is for a caterer's assistant and that brings in three thousand five hundred credits plus Class three accommodations, clothing allowance and two hundred luxury units per standard year. We're charged at the base-level accommodations, shuttle passage was only fifteen cr, but any unusual item from catering – except two beakers of beverages up to Grade four – is charged against the individual's account. So, if you don't eat exotic, or drink heavy, you'd clear off the initial levies at a c.a.'s pay in» – Shillawn had to skip after them as he glanced down at his jotter and lost his stride – «in seven months, two weeks and five days' standard.»
Rimbol caught Killashandra's eye, and she could see that the young Yarran was hard put to suppress his laughter.
“Why did you only consider the lowest-paid member, Shillawn?” she asked, managing to keep her voice level.
“Well, that was practical.”
“You mean, you didn't compute any of the higher grades?”
“The highest-paid position is that of the Guild Master, and such information is not available.”
“You did try?” Now it was Killashandra's turn to have to skip ahead or be over run by Shillawn's long legs.
“I wanted to see just what areas are open to the average member . . .”
“How high could you retrieve data?”
“That's the good part,” Shillawn beamed down at them. “The next rank after Guild Master is Crystal Cutter Singer, I mean. Only the credit varies too erratically, depending as it does on how much usable crystal a Cutter brings in.” “If Crystal Singers are second, who's third in rank?”
“Chief of Research, Chief of Control, and Chief of Marketing. All on equal rating.”
“Credit per year?”
“Their base pay is 300,000 pgy, plus living, entertainment, travel, and personal allowances 'to be determined'.”
The base figure was sufficient to draw an appreciative whistle from Rimbol.
“And, of course, you're going to be Chief of Control, I expect,” a new voice said and the three friends realized that Carigana had been listening.
Shillawn flushed at her sarcasm.
“And you'll be chief rant-and-raver,” Rimbol said, unexpectedly acerbic, his blue eyes signaling dislike.
Carigana flipped her thumbnail at him and strode on, head high, shoulders and back stiffly straight.
“Any sympathy I had for that woman is fast giving place to total antipathy,” Rimbol said, making an even more insulting gesture at the space worker's back.
With her head start on the rest of Class 895, Carigana was first to reach the ground-craft depot, but she had to wait until the flight officer checked in all thirty. They were taken to a large section inside a gigantic hangar that housed three vehicles on simulation stands: a skimmer, the general work craft, which could be adapted for variations of atmosphere and gravity and could be driven by children. A single bar controlled forward, reverse, and side movement. The skimmer had no great speed but plowed its air cushion with equal efficiency over land, water, snow, mud, ice, sand, or rock. Its drive could be adapted to a variety of fuels and power sources.
The second stand simulated an air sled, not as clumsy as its name implied and capable of considerable speed and maneuverability. It was the long-haul craft, the Crystal Cutter's official vehicle, capable of delivering cargo and passengers to any point on Ballybran.
The third simulator was a satellite shuttle, it caused Rimbol's eyes to widen appreciatively, but Killashandra sincerely hoped she would not be asked to pilot it.
Though all were bored by waiting their turn, Killashandra had no trouble with the skimmer simulation. The sled was more complex, but she felt she acquitted herself fairly well, though she'd certainly want a lot more practice in the vehicle before flying any distance.
“You know who failed the skimmer test?” Rimbol asked, joining her as she emerged from the air sled.
“Shillawn?” But then she saw the gangly man still waiting on line.
“No. Carigana!”
“How could anyone not be able to fly a skimmer?”
"A skimmer needs a light hand." Rimbol's smile was malicious. "Carigana's used to a space suit. Ever noticed how she always turns her entire body around to face you? That's from wearing a servomech for so long. That's why her movements are so jerky, over corrected. She over reacts. too. As we all know. Hey, we'd better scurry. Instructor Tukolom" – and Rimbol grinned at the title with which the flight officer had pointedly addressed their tutor – says we're due back at the training lounge for the afternoon's entrancing lectures."