Crystal Singer Gyles Lee, still moderately in debt (though any new singer would blanch at the depth his balance has fallen to) is out visiting some of his less valuable claims, checking for storm damage and retouching his paintmarks.

Approaching one particular claim, the singer guides his vehicle by moonlight through the ragged valley to the well-remembered landing spot, touching down with no noise except the hum of his sled's engines. The singer takes a few moments to hike the short distance to the top of the ridge and freshen his paintmarks, finding only a few flakes of black paint remain from the previous application.

Unbeknownst to Gyles, another singer has landed nearby, around the bend from his own spot and out of sight. That singer is already asleep, but will not be pleased tomorrow.

Returning to his vehicle, the tired singer strips down to his shorts and crawls into his couch, burying himself under the blanket and falling instantly asleep. There he remains until the next morning...

From outside the sled, Astaris picks up her paint cans again, and picks her way down to the almost well hidden sled. After a few moments thought, she calmly splashes paint on the sled in a familiar star shaped pattern, and then clangs the empty cans against the hatch of the sled.

A rumpled pile of blanket stirs on the bed inside the vandalized sled, a pair of dark sleepy eyes blinking out at the growing light of morning. The singer sits up and rubs the back of his neck, more curious than alarmed at the dream-distorted clanging. He slides down from the couch, blanket falling into a heap around his ankles which is promptly kicked out of his path to the vehicle's main door. He thumbs it open and peers out into the morning sun.

From outside the sled, Astaris glances up at the opening hatch and sees only the shadowy form of a person, as the light outside is much brighter than within. She glares at the shadow, and growls softly (Yes, woman can growl), "You're on my claim."

What the hell? Gyles, now startled fully awake, takes another step into the door, revealing himself and bringing a woman outside fully into view. One hand moves to the side to rest on his cutter, out of view of the trespassing singer but only a snatch away from self-defense. He stands there silently a moment, then shoots a glance at the nearby ridge where his paint mark stands prominently alone. "Where's your paint, then?" he finally asks. "I'd say it's rather obviously not your claim."

Through the windscreen, you see:

In the distance are the black forms of the mountains, range after range broken by sunless valleys over which the clouds lower, a world of uneven ground. Here, the northern mountain falls off precipitously into a valley bordering a wide plateau, surrounded on the other three sides by rocks, cliffs, treetops and a steep slope. All about you can see freshly painted a large black hexagon on a black vertical stem.

From outside the sled, Astaris raises one eyebrow, "I was here last night. My sled is out in plain view. Paint or no paint, I was here first. My paint? Right there, I'd say." She points at the golden star on the side of the sled, dripping rather messily onto the ground.

Gyles eyes the woman a moment, then leans outside a moment to view the indicated mess on his sled. Straightening, hand still out of sight, he replies softly, "Perhaps you were first last night, but clearly you aren't the first to cut this vein. I am," he states flatly. "How else would I know where to land with only moonlight for a guide?" He pauses a moment. "As my paint is on the ridge and yours is not, I suggest you leave before I file a complaint." He shifts position slightly, gathering his balance should the younger woman decide an attack is a good idea.

From outside the sled, Astaris crosses her hands under her breasts and raises the other eyebrow, "If you cut this claim, then you've left it considerable long. There was no paint mark here when I landed yesterday, nor when I came back from checking this blasted claim for crystal. You deliberately painted this claim after dark, didn't you...so I couldn't claim it myself this morning?" Her eyes snap sparks at the thought of someone deliberately using deceit against HER.

The older singer dismisses that idea with a quick gesture toward the ridge. "You should know as well as any other singer that paint wears off over time, especially with the storms we've been having lately. And of course I repainted it, to keep other singers from thinking it was free." He smiles tightly. "Your bad timing, arriving here when you did. I don't need to search for the vein here, I already know where it is." He peers at the woman. "Do you?"

From outside the sled, Astaris sighs, "Of course I don't. Why would I have painted it immediately if I knew where the blasted thing was." She uncrosses her arms and glances uneasily at the paint on the side of the sled.

Ah, so she really doesn't have a leg to stand on. Being a rather passive sort, Gyles prefers to use reason over force. "If I can lead you straight to the vein, will you agree this is my claimsite, and leave?" He still hasn't brought both hands into view, either. "By the Regs, I don't have to do that, you know."

From outside the sled, Astaris considers this, and purses her lips, bringing a cracked fingernail to chapped lips, tapping thoughtfully, "Alright...I suppose I'll give if you can do that. Straight to it, though. No backwards stuff, and try to blame it on confusing my sense of direction."

With a quick nod, Gyles agrees. "Bide a moment," he mutters, thumbing the door shut between them. Quickly grabbing yesterday's jumper, he dresses himself, leaving the closure on the right leg undone to give the staples room to move without binding. Removing his cutter from its brackets, he thumbs open the door and steps out.

High Plateau
High up on the plateau, you see low, rolling hills wherever you look, with huge outcroppings of the underlying granite. The snow has melted from all but the highest peaks, and the plateau around you is covered with wildflowers and scrubby grasses. Off to the north, beyond a shallow, treed valley, a massive, black granite cliff face stands guard over all, fearsome and majestic. You notice that even with Scoria at her highest point, the air remains cool. All about you can see freshly painted a large black hexagon on a black vertical stem.

A barely discernible path winds north through the valley, toward the cliff.
Contents:
Astaris's sled

<look Astaris>
Looking down, you find that light is swallowed up by a short cap of gently waving midnight hued locks, framing a fair, narrow face sprinkled with a handful of freckles. Eyes of a feathery gray in shade peer from a face with a small, pert nose and tiny, full lipped mouth that is settled into a slight pout. Diminutive of build, but slightly buxom, this 1.5 meter tall lady of about 22 standard years carries herself with a surprising confidence that belies her petite stature. As though trained to do so, every gesture is done to impress; from the slight swing of her hips as she walks to the almost conscious placement of each finger with every movement, her manner is trained and finely honed.
Star is looking rather scruffy in dirt encrusted boots and tattered and torn coverall that was once a green and pink, now it leans towards dirt browns and sickly greens. Her utility bet hangs loosely on her hips, several of the compartments hanging open, and empty. You notice a rather strong prickling along your skin when you pass too closely to Astaris. Her clothes are torn across the stomach, and long, shallow cuts well with blood, the edges bruised and battered.

Astaris swings her cutter from the right shoulder to the left, and nods, "Lead on."

Gyles joins the woman and stops short, surprised to find her height is quite close to his own, even a bit shorter. Hard to tell on the uneven ground. Wordlessly he hikes to the south, exposing his back but depending upon his sharp hearing for warning should the woman try an attack now. Occasional glances backwards reassure him and he heads onward.

Astaris hrms softly.
Astaris just looked at me.

Gyles hikes downwards, toward the remembered valley where he found the vein before.

In the Valley
This narrow valley cuts east-west across the plateau. A small creek burbles and gurgles merrily along the bottom, winding its way through the boulders and green trees. Even with Scoria high in the sky, not much light reaches you down here.

Astaris arrives from the plateau and pulls a few stray twigs from her clothing.

Gyles pauses, giving the other singer time to catch up, then turns to squeeze into the cliff face.

A glint of light catches your eye and your senses reel.

<look vein>
All about you can see freshly painted a large black hexagon on a black vertical stem. The vein subtly sings to you in a scale of G. You catch a sparkling glimmer of deep blue. The vein vibrates with a sourness from some storm damage, but you sense that if it was cut away, some pure crystal may lie beneath.

Astaris arrives from the valley, wiping a streak of grime from her cheek.
Astaris looks about, and her eyes glow softly as she catches sight of the vein, "Aye. Tis blue, tis. And nice deep hue, too." She stares at the vein for a long moment, then stamps her foot slightly, "I hate being wrong. It simply ruins my day."

Gyles has stopped before a set of symmetric edges, evidence of previous cuts, and rubbed away the mud and grime to reveal the dark blue color of the face. He runs his hand along the seam, an almost possessive gleam in his dark eyes, then turns back to his visitor. "It happens to every singer at some point," he allows, pausing as he spots recent storm damage. Giving the fractured face a kick, he turns back toward the landing area. "Haven't had any food in a while, have you?" he comments.

Astaris blinks, as if suddenly remembering she's in the company of someone else. Something that hasn't happened near a crystal vein in quite a while. She suddenly seems anxious to leave, "Aye. Its been...several days. I could do with something to eat."

Gyles nods and gestures in an obvious invitation to exit the vein. "You do look hungry," he observes, waiting. For food and for crystal both, though from the irritable mood the woman is in, crystal is the last thing she seems to need at the moment.

Astaris hurriedly makes her way out of the close space. Astaris carefully makes her way back out to the valley.

Gyles follows the woman out, wiping the dirt from his hands onto his jumpsuit. He waits for her to make the climb back to the top of the plateau.

[The two singers make their way back to the high plateau where their sleds are parked.]

Astaris runs grimy fingers through her hair, and seems to take note of just how tacky she looks. She wipes her hands on her jumpsuit, and raises her eyebrows at the untidy piece of clothing, as well as the cuts on her exposed belly, "Great day, where'd I get those?" she mutters.

Gyles politely ignores the woman and disappears inside his vehicle to rummage around a bit in his stores. After a few moments he pokes his head out the door to inquire, "Do you eat animal protein?"

Astaris looks up from her examination, "Huh? Oh, yeah. I'm going to wash up. Be back in a bit. Oh, I'll pay to have your sled repainted, too. Sorry about that. I'm a bit irrational these days."

Astaris brushes her fingers over her slightly cleaner clothes and frowns at a crease.

Gyles nods approvingly at the girl's being a proper carnivore and begins preparing a garlic chicken dish he has grown to like. The singer that taught him the recipe comes to mind briefly, but the thoughts are chased away as he busies himself opening tins of chicken, diced garlic, and dried vegetables. Setting the stuff to rehydrate a few moments, he turns to finding something liquid to go with the meal, but has to settle for the common local brew.

Astaris leans over to finish lacing up her boots and frowns, looking at her cracked fingernails. Straightening, she looks over at Gyles, "Could I offer some polly? I've got it stashed away. Never can remember I've got it while I'm cutting."

Gyles dumps the plumped veggies into the chicken-garlic mixture and stirs in some additional spices. "I think polly would go well with this," he answers. He pauses to dig out some pre-cooked eggrolls and shoves them into the catering unit to reheat. "Getting this stuff can be a real pain, but when you bribe the right people it makes for some great meals." He pulls out some disposable plates and dumps equal portions onto two plates.

Astaris chuckles, "Oh, I've got a kitchen and a special line with one of the caterers. They can get some of the greatest stuff."

Gyles emerges from his sled, two plates filled with steaming heaps of savory garlic chicken and egg rolls in hand. He tosses out two empty crystal cartons from his cargo hatch and sets one plate aside for Astaris. The other he begins to consume himself, too famished to be polite and wait.

Astaris disappears for a moment, before reappearing with a condensing bottle of polly and two plastic tumblers. She pours both three quarters full and settles on the ground, crosslegged, before her plate and eats it slowly, savoring every bite, very unlike someone who hasn't eaten in over three days.

Gyles reaches for one of the tumblers and takes a sip, it being a long time since he's had any polly wine. He nods approvingly as its flavor melds with the garlic chicken. "Not a bad combination," he admits, "better than I expected."

Astaris chuckles, "I have two rules with food and drink. Try Yarrin. If It doesn't go, grab the polly."

Gyles munches on his meal and simply nods, playing the host to placate the woman so she leaves in a better mood than she woke up in. Playing the host isn't his usual ploy, but it seems the right tack to take with this one.

Astaris finishes her meal and sips at her polly, mind wandering back and forth, before she starts, "Amethyst. Heavens I forgot about my amethyst."

Gyles nibbles on his eggrolls, using them to sop up the remaining garlic sauce. "Amethyst?" he asks around a mouthful. "That's rare stuff."

Astaris pulls apart an eggroll and examines it before replying, "Pretty rare. Funny. I found a small vein of it, right after I found my first black vein. I didn't cut it out. Maybe there's some left to cut."

Gyles pops the last of his remaining eggroll into his mouth and chews slowly. Finally he swallows it and shrugs. "There may not be, if you got hit by the same storms I did."

Astaris nods, "Never hurts to be optimistic. I think I'll fly in tonight and check it out."

Gyles nods quietly and puts his empty plate to one side. Crossing his knees and knitting his fingers across them, he settles back to watch the sunrise.

Astaris picks up her bottle of polly and swings it lazily to and fro. Astaris suddenly sits up, "I'm going now. Thanks for the meal. Sorry about the sled. Catch me later, and I'll get it repainted for you."

Gyles gestures lazily at nothing in particular, a vague attempt at a farewell wave, one supposes.

Astaris leaves the bottle of polly and goes towards her sled, looking a bit strange, "Bye Gyles." This is the first time she's mentioned your name and with a slight air of recognition. Astaris steps into the airsled "The Rose Star."

Sled The Rose Star rises upwards and hovers a moment before it speeds away.

Gyles turns his head slightly to watch the woman depart, not noticing the bottle of polly until well after her sled has departed. After a few moments of quiet contemplation, he gathers the plates and glasses and tosses them into his sled's recycler. The remaining polly wine goes into his stores.

Throwing open his cargo hatch, the singer pulls out a few empty cartons. Slamming it shut again, he slings his cutter over his shoulder and hikes back into the vein. He climbs down into the face and studies the storm-shattered crystal disgustedly.

Gyles spends the morning clearing away the storm damage, cutting away the flaw and hauling the shards out of range. What remains within the vein is only a nubbin of the original, not even enough for an octave. With a sigh the singer cuts the single chord remaining and departs, chuckling wryly at the morning's confrontation over what turned out to be an almost worthless site.