Trouble started about mid afternoon as the students were viewing the details of the Charter of the Heptite Guild as a diversion after meta-maths. Rimbol muttered that the Guild was damned autocratic for a member of the Federated Planets. Shillawn, swallowing first, mumbled about data retrieval and briefing.

It took a few moments before the import of the section dealing with tithes, fee, and charges was fully understood. With a growing sense of indignation, Killashandra learned that from the moment she had been sworn in at the moon base as a recruit, the Guild could charge her for any and all services rendered, including a fee of transfer from the satellite to the planet.

"Do they charge, too, for the damn spores in the air we're breathing?" Carigana demanded, characteristically the first to find voice after the initial shock For once, she had the total support of the others. With a fine display of vituperation, she vented her anger on Tukolom, the visible representative of the Guild that she vehemently declared had exploited the unsuspecting.

"Told you were," Tukolom replied, unexpectedly raising his voice to top hers. "Available to you was that data at Shankill. The charter in the data is."

"How would we have known to ask?" Carigana retorted, her anger fueled by his answer. "This narding Guild keeps its secrets so well, you're not led to expect a straight answer to a direct question!"

"Thinking surely you would," Tukolom said, unruffled and with an irony that surprised Killashandra. "Maintenance charges only at cost are - "

"No where else in the galaxy do students have to pay for subsistence - "

"Students you are not." Tukolom was firm. "Guild members are you!"

Not even Carigana could find a quick answer to that. She glared around her, her flashing eyes begging someone to have a rejoinder.

"Trapped us, haven't you?" She spat the words at the man. "Good and truly trapped. And we walked so obligingly into it." She flung herself down on the seating unit, her hands flopping uselessly about her thighs.

"Once trained, salary far above galactic average," Tukolom announced diplomatically into the silence. "Most indebtedness cleared by second year. Then - every wish satisfy. Order any thing from any place in galaxy." He tendered a thin smile of encouragement. ''Guild credit good anywhere for anything."

"That's not much consolation for being stuck on this planet for the rest of your life," Carigana replied with a snarl.

Once she had absorbed the initial shock, Killashandra was willing to admit that the Guild method was fair. Its members must be furnished with private quarters, food, clothing, personal necessities, and medical care. Some of the specialists, the Singers especially, had a further initial outlay for equipment. The cost of the flitter craft used by Crystal Singers in the ranges was staggering the sonic cutting gear that had to be tuned to the user was also expensive and a variety of other items whose purpose was not yet known to her were basic Singer's tools.

Obviously, the best job to have on Ballybran was that of a Crystal Singer even if the Guild did "tithe" 30 percent of the crystal cut and brought in. She duly noted the phrase, brought in, and wondered if she could find a vocabulary section in the data bank that would define words in precisely the nuance meant on Ballybran. Interlingual was accurate enough, but every profession has terms that sound familiar, seem innocuous, and are dangerous to the incompletely initiated.

A wide variety of supporting skills put the Singers into the ranges, maintained the vehicles, buildings, space station, research, medical facilities, and the administration of it all. Twenty thousand technicians, essential to keep the four thousand or so Singers working, and this very elite group was somehow recruited from the galaxy.

The argument over entrapment, as Carigana vehemently insisted on calling it, continued long after Tukolom left. Killashandra noticed him as he gradually worked his way from the center of the explosion, almost encouraging Carigana to become the focus, then adroitly slipped down a corridor. He's pulled the fade-away act before, Killashandra thought. Perversely, she then became annoyed because she and her group were reacting predictably; it was one thing to have a stage director prescribe your moves on stage, quite another to be manipulated in one's living. She had thought to be free of overt management, so she experienced a surge of anger. To rant as Carigana was doing solved nothing except the immediate release of an energy and purpose that could be used to better advantage.

Ignoring Carigana's continuing harangue, Killashandra quietly moved to a small terminal and asked for a review of the Charter. After a few moment's study, she left the machine. There was no legal way in which one could relinquish membership in the Heptite Guild except by dying. Even in sickness, mental or physical, the Guild had complete protective authority over every member so sworn, averred, and affirmed. Now she appreciated the FSP officials and the elaborate rigmarole. On the other hand, she had been told; she could have withdrawn after full disclosure if she hadn't been so eager to flaunt Maestro Valdi and prove to Andurs that she'd be right as a Crystal Singer. The section on the Guild's responsibilities to the individual member was clear. Killashandra would see definite advantages, including the ones that had lured her to Ballybran. If she became a Crystal Singer . . . She preferred "Singer" to the Guild's dull job description, "Cutter."

"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."

Carigana might well have been floating in deep space in a servomech suit for all the notice she gave to Tukolom's recitations on the care and packing of crystal cuttings. He informed Class 895 that they must pay strict attention to these procedures, as one of their first official tasks for their Guild would be to prepare crystal for export. As he spoke - he reminded them - Crystal Cutters were in the ranges, making the most of the mild spring weather and the favorable aspects of the moons. When the Cutters returned, Class 895 would be privileged to have its first experience with handling crystal, in all its infinite variety . . . and value.

The reverence with which Tukolom made the announcement showed Killashandra a new and unexpected facet of the humorless instructor. Did crystal affect even those who did not sing it? How long had Tukolom been a Guild member? Not that she really wanted to know. She was just intrigued by his uncharacteristic radiance when discussing, of all the dull subjects, the packing of crystal.

As soon as Tukolom released the class from the lecture, she murmured something about returning in a moment to Rimbol and slipped away to her room. She drew out the console and tapped the Flight Office, requesting the use of a skimmer for personal relaxation. The display spilled out a confirmation that she could use vehicle registry VZD7780 for two hours, confined to over land flight.

As she slipped from her room, she was relieved to see Rimbol's door open. He was still in the lounge, so she suppressed the vague disquiet she felt about sneaking off without him. Her first visit to the crystal ranges was better experienced as a solo. Besides, if Rimbol and Shillawn couldn't figure out how to obtain a clearance, they didn't deserve one.

The vast hangar complex was eerily empty. A light breeze sighed through the vacant racks for Singers' air sleds as Killashandra hurried to the skimmer section. An air sled engine revved unexpectedly and caused her to leap inches off the plascrete surface; then she saw the cluster of mechanics on the far side of the building, where lights exposed the sled's drive section.

Killashandra finally located the VZD rack and her assigned craft at the top of the skimmer section. The vehicle was sand-scraped, although the plasglas bubble was relatively unscathed. She climbed in, backed the skimmer carefully clear of the rack, and proceeded from the hangar at a sedate pace.

"Pilot may fly only in area designated on master chart," a mechanical voice announced: to her left, an opaque square lit to display an overlay of the Joslin plateau, the Guild complex out of which a small flashing dot, herself, was moving.

"Pilot complies."

"Weather alert must be obeyed by immediate return to hangar. Weather holding clear and mild: no storm warning presently in effect." As she cleared the hangar, she noticed three figures emerge from the ramp. She chuckled - she'd got her skimmer first.

She didn't want to be followed, so she pushed the control bar forward for maximum speed. The master chart cut off just at the fringe of the Milekey Range to the northeast but close enough for her to see exactly what she had mortgaged her life for. It was suddenly very necessary to Killashandra to stand on the edge of this possible future of hers, to be close to it; to make it more vivid than Tukolom's carefully recited lessons; to make her understand why Borella had smiled in longing.

The old skimmer didn't like being pushed to maximum speed and vibrated unpleasantly. None of the function dials were in the red, so Killashandra ignored the shaking, keeping on the northeasterly course. The Brerrerton Range would have been closer, almost directly south, but Milekey had been the range Carrik frequently mentioned, and her choice had been subconsciously affected by him. Well, the others were certain to head to the nearer range, which was fine by her.

Once she had bounced over the first hill, Killashandra saw the smudge of the range, occasionally reflecting the westering sun. Beneath her, the dull gray-green shrub and ground cover of Ballybran passed without change. Dull exteriors so often hid treasures. Who could ever have thought Ballybran worth half credit? She recalled the model of the planet that Borella had shown them on Shankill. It was as if cosmic hands had taken the world and twisted it so that the softer interior material had been forced through the crust, forming the jagged ranges that bore crystal, and then capriciously the same hands had yanked the misshapen spheres out, the ridges falling inward.

The plain gave way to a series of deep gullies that in a wetter season, might have become streams. The first of the jagged upthrusts coincided with the edge of her chart, so she settled the skimmer on the largest promontory and got out.

To either side and before her, the planet's folds stretched each cline peering through a gap or a few meters higher than the one before. Shading her eyes, she strained to see any evidence of the shining crystal that was the hidden and unique wealth of such an uninviting planet.

The silence was all but complete, the merest whisper of sound, not wind, and transmitted not through the atmosphere but through the rock under her feet. A strange sound to be experienced so, as if her heel were responding to a vibration to which her keen ears, expectant, were not attuned. Not precisely comprehending the urge to test the curious unsilence, Killashandra drew a deep breath and expelled it on a fine clear E.

The single note echoed back to her ears and through her heels, the resonance coursing to her nerve ends, leaving behind, as the sound died away, a pleasurable sensation that caressed her nervous system. She stood entranced but hesitated to repeat the experience, so she scanned the dirty, unpretentious mounds. Now she was willing to believe what Carrik had said and, equally, was credulous of the hazards attached. The two facets of singing crystal were linked: the good and bad, the difficult, the ecstatic.

She quickly discarded a notion to fly deeper into the range. Common sense told her that any crystal in the immediate vicinity would long since have been removed. A more practical restraint was Killashandra's recognition that it would be easy to lose oneself beyond the curiously reassuring flatness of the plain and the sight of the White Sea. However, she did skim along the first ridges, always keeping the plain in sight and at the edge of her flight chart. The undulating hills fascinated her as the sharper, young thrusts and anticlines of Fuerte had not. Ballybran's ranges tempted, taunted, tantalized, hiding wealth produced by titanic forces boiling from the molten core of the planet: a wealth created by the technical needs of an ever-expanding galactic population and found on an ancient world with no other resources to commend it. That was ever the way of technology: to take the worthless and convert it into wealth.

Eventually, Killashandra turned the skimmer back toward the Guild Complex. She had renewed her determination to become a Singer, which had been dampened somewhat by Tukolom and an instructional mode that subtly ignored the main objective of the recruits - becoming a Crystal Singer. She could understand why their initiation took the form it had - until the symbiosis occurred, no lasting assignments could be made, but other worthwhile skills and ranks could be examined. She sighed, wondering if she could sustain another defeat. Then she laughed, remembering how facilely she had shrugged off ten-years' hard work when Carrik had dangled his lure. Yet, to be perfectly honest, he hadn't dangled: he'd argued against her taking such a step, argued vehemently.

What had Rimbol said about being denied making an object more desirable? And it was true that the maestro's histrionic condemnation of Carrik and Crystal Singers had done much to increase her desire. She had, of course, been so elated by her interlude with Carrik that the luxurious standard of living - and playing - to which he had introduced her had been a lure to one who had had no more than student credit. Carrik's fascinating personality had bemused her and given her the recklessness to throw off the restraints of a decade of unrewarded discipline.

Now that she had stood close to crystal source, felt that phenomenal vibration through bone and nerve, a call to the core of her that her involvement with music had never touched, she was strengthened in her purpose.

A lone figure was climbing about the skimmer racks when Killashandra returned. She noticed eight other empty slots as she parked her vehicle. The figure waved urgently for her to remain by her skimmer and quickly climbed up to her. Killashandra waited politely, but the man checked the registry of the skimmer first, then ran his hands along the sides, frowning. He began a tactile examination of the canopy without so much as glancing at her in the seat. He muttered as he made notations on his jotter. The display alarmed him, and for the first time he noticed her, opening the canopy.

"You weren't out long. Has something happened to one of the others? Nine of you went out!"

"No, nothing's wrong."

Relieved, he gave a pull to the visored cap he wore.

"Only have so many skimmers, and I shouldn't ought to 've given out nine to recruits, but no one else requested."

Killashandra stepped from the skimmer, and the hangar man was instantly inside, running fingers over the control surface, the steering rod, as if her mere physical presence might have caused damage.

"I'm not careless with equipment," she said, but he gave no indication he had heard.

"You're Killashandra?" He finished his inspection and looked around at her as he closed the canopy.

"Yes."

He grunted and made another entry on his jotter, watching the display.

"Do you always inspect each vehicle as it's used?" she asked, trying to be pleasant.

He made no comment. Was it because of her lowly rank as a recruit? A sudden resentment flared past the serenity she had achieved in the range. She touched his arm and repeated her question.

"Always. My job. Some of you lot are damned careless and give me more work than necessary. Don't mind doing my proper job, but unnecessary work is not on. Just not on."