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from their antigravs.
There was a storm chill in the air and Killashandra was aware of
symbiont-generated inner tension as her body sensed the impending arrival of
the hurricane.
"The command post is shielded, lover," Lars said, catching her hand in his and
stroking it reassuringly. "Storm won't affect you so much there.
I feel it myself," he added when she looked up in surprise at his comment.
"Real weather-sorts, the pair of us!" The affinity pleased him.
They reached the next level, predominantly storage to judge by the signs on
the door on either side of the wide corridor. Lars walked straight for the
secured portal at the far end, put his thumb on the door lock which then slid
open. Instinctively Killashandra flinched, startled by the sight of the
storm-lashed trees, and the unexpected panoramas, north and south, of the two
harbors. Lars's hand tightened with reassurance. On both sides of the door,
the walls were covered by data screens and continuous printout as the
satellites fed information to the island's receivers. The other three sides of
the command post were open, save for the circular stairs winding down to the
floor below.
Olav was on his feet, walking from one display to the next, making his own
estimate of the data. He looked up at Lars and Killashandra, noting with the
upward lift of one eyebrow the bruised garlands they wore. He indicated the
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circular stairway and made a gesture which Killashandra read as a promise to
join them later.
They crossed the room, Lars pausing to read the displays at the head of the
staircase. He made a noncommittal grunt and then indicated that she should
precede him. Therefore she was first in the room, grateful that only large
windows north and south broke its protection from the elements without, while
a fire burned in a wide hearth on the eastern wall. The western wall was
broken by four doors, the open one showing a small catering area. But
Killashandra's attention was immediately on the occupants of the room, three
men and the most beautiful woman Killashandra had ever seen.
"Nahia! How dare you risk yourself!" cried Lars, his face white under his tan
as he brushed past Killashandra. To her complete amazement, he dropped on one
knee before the woman, and kissed her hand.
Chapter 13
A startled expression crossed Nahia's perfect features at Lars's obeisance.
She shot a quick look at Killashandra, managing to convey her embarrassment
even as she tried to lift Lars from his knee.
"My friend, this will not do," she said kindly, but firmly. "Only
think what effect such a gesture could have on an Elder or a Master -- and
yes, I do most certainly know your opinion of those worthies. But Lars, such
histrionics could damage our goal."
Lars had by now risen to his feet. With a final few pats to his hand, an
oblique apology for her public admonition, she withdrew from his grasp, moving
past him toward Killashandra. "Whom have you brought with you, Lars?" she
asked, smiling tentatively as she extended her slender hand to Killashandra.
"Who wears your garland?"
"Carrigana, lately a polly planter," Lars replied, stepping back to
Killashandra's side and taking her other hand firmly in his.
It was one way of apologizing for his effusive welcome of another woman but it
was Nahia herself who effectively dissolved Killashandra's incipient
hostility. The touch of her hand had a soothing effect, not a shock or a jar,
but a gentle insinuation of reassurance. Nahia's eyes were troubled as she
regarded Killashandra, her lips curving upward in a slight smile which
blossomed as she felt Killashandra's resistance to her dissipate. Then a
little frown gathered at her brows as she became aware of the lingering
crystal resonance within Killashandra. It was the crystal singer's turn to
smile reassurance and an acknowledgement of what Nahia was: an empath.
Killashandra had heard of such people but she had never encountered one. The
encyclopedia had not hinted the psi talents were an Optherian quality. It
could be a wild talent and often was. In Nahia it was combined with unexpected
beauty, integrity, and an honesty which few citizens of the
Federated Sentient Worlds could project without endangering their sanity.
Lars had been correct in his statement that Nahia's special talents would be a
galactic asset. She was Goodness personified.
Nahia looked with gentle inquiry at Killashandra, struggling to identify the
elusive contact with crystal. Killashandra smiled and, with a final light
pressure on Nahia's fine-boned hand, released her and leaned slightly against
Lars.
At this point, the other men stepped forward to greet the newcomers.
"I'm Hauness, Nahia's escort," said the tallest of the three, an attractive
man whom Killashandra judged to be in his mid-thirties. His handclasp was
strong but not crushing and he, too, exuded a charm and personality that would
have been instantly apparent in any group -- at least any group that did not
contain Nahia. Or Lars. "Believe me, Lars, we had no report of such rough
weather when we embarked on this journey but --
"
"There are matters we must discuss with you, no matter what the risk." Erutown
was the oldest, and bluntest. His manner suggested that he tended to be a
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humorless pessimist. He gave Killashandra's hand one brief shake and dropped
it. "And there was no risk -- in the weather -- when we started." He hovered,
his upper body inclined away from Killashandra even as his feet shifted, as if
he wanted to separate Lars from Killashandra and plunge into the "matters to
be discussed" as quickly as possible.
"Theach," said the third man, giving Killashandra a brief, self-effacing nod.
He was the sort of nondescript human being, mild mannered, with
undistinguished features, who can be encountered almost anywhere in the human
population, and promptly forgotten. Only because she had heard of his
mathematical abilities from Lars did Killashandra give Theach any sort of an
inspection and thus noticed that his eyes were brilliant with intelligence:
that he had already assumed she would discount him, indeed, hoped that she
would, and was quite willing to accept the sort of dismissal to which he was
clearly accustomed.
So Killashandra gave him a saucy wink. She half expected Theach to retreat in
confusion as many shy men would, but, smiling, he winked back at her.
Erutown cleared his throat, indicating that now introductions had been made,
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