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arm.
    “Killashandra Ree?” the supervisor asked, still panting from his exertions.
    “Yes?”
    “You are to be detained.”
    “Why?” Now she was angry. She had committed no crime, infringed no one’s liberties. Failure to register change of status was not an offense so long as she had not used planetary resources without sufficient credit.
    “Please come with us,” the port officials said in chorus.
    “Why?”
    “Ahh, hmmmm,” the supervisor mumbled as both officers turned to him. “There’s a hold out for you.”
    “I’ve done nothing wrong.”
    “Here, what’s going on?” Carrik was once more completely himself as he pushed through to place a protecting arm around Killashandra. “This young lady is under my protection.”
    At this announcement, the supervisor and officials exchanged stern and determined stares.
    “This young lady is under the protection of her planet of origin,” the supervisor announced. “There is some doubt as to her mental stability.”
    “Why? Because she accepted an honest invitation from a visitor? Do you know who I am?”
    The supervisor flushed. “Indeed I do, sir,” and though the man spoke more respectfully, he left no doubt that his immediate aim was to extract Killashandra from Carrik’s patronage.
    “Well, then, accept my assurances, that Miss Ree is in excellent health, mental and physical.” Carrik gestured for them to admire Killashandra’s tanned and trim figure.
    The supervisor was adamant. “If you’ll
both
please come this way.” His officers straightened resolutely.
    As there was nothing for it but to comply, Carrik reminded this unexpected escort that they had booked shuttle flights due to lift off in one hour. He had every intention of keeping that schedule—and with Killashandra Ree. Rather than give rise to further speculation about her mental state, Killashandra remained uncharacteristically quiet.
    “I suspect,” she whispered to Carrik after they were shown into a small office, “that the music school may have thought me suicidal.” She giggled, then attempted to mask the noise behind her hand when the supervisor glanced up at her nervously. “I just walked out of the center and disappeared. I saw no one who knew me on the way here. So they did miss me! Well, that’s gratifying.” She was inordinately pleased, but Carrik plainly did not agree. Well, she had only to reassure the authorities, and she was certain she could. “I think their reaction is rather complimentary, actually. And I’m going to make a dramatic exit from Fuerte, after all.”
    Carrik awarded her a look of pure disgust and folded his arms solidly across his chest, his expression fading to one of boredom. He kept his eyes fixed on the screen, which was scrolling through the departure information.
    Killashandra half expected to see her father, though she found it difficult to imagine him bestirring himself on her behalf. But she did not expect Maestro Esmond Valdi to enter the small office, acting the outraged mentor, nor was she prepared for the attack he immediately launched on Carrik.
    “You! You! I know what you are! A silicate spider paralyzing its prey, a crystal cuckoo pushing the promising fledglings from their nests.”
    As stunned as everyone else, Killashandra stared at the usually dignified and imperturbable maestro and wondered what role he thought he was playing. He had to be acting. His dialogue was so—so extravagant. “Silicate spider!” “Crystal cuckoo!” if nothing else, his analogies were incorrect and uncalled for.
    “Play on the emotions of an innocent young girl. Shower her with unaccustomed luxuries and pervert her until she’s spoiled as a decent contributing citizen. Until she’s so besotted, she has been brainwashed to enter that den of addled mentalities and shattered nerves!”
    Carrik made no attempt to divert the flow of vituperation or to counter the accusations. He stood, head up, smiling tolerantly down at the jerky motions of