Free Killashandra by Anne McCaffrey

Thyrol,” the first and oldest man said, taking one step toward her and bowing.
    “Welcome, Killashandra Ree, I am Pirinio,” said the second, following the example of the first.
    In unvarying ceremony, Polabod and Mirbethan made themselves known to her. Had they practiced long?
    “I am truly welcomed,” she said with a gracious semibow. “The crystal? It was aboard the shuttle.”
    All four looked to her right, left hands rising from their sides at the same instant, to indicate the float appearing through a second portal. Nullgravs suspended float and cartons above the gold-flecked marble floor but proper guidance apparently required six attendants, each wearing an anxious frown of concentration. A seventh man directed their efforts, dancing from one side to the other to be certain that nothing impeded their progress. These citizens of Optheria were reassuringly mismatched in size, form, and feature.
    “We four,” Thyrol began, indicating his companions with a twist of his hand, “are to be your guides and mentors during your stay on Optheria. You have only to state your wishes and preferences and we—Optheria—will provide.”
    The four bowed again, like a wave from right to left. The Inspector beside her also bowed. Thyrol lifted one eyebrow and the Inspector, bowing again as he surrendered Killashandra’s carisak to Pirinio, formally receded until the portal hissed apart and then closed. Killashandra wondered if the Inspector’s euphoria wouldextend to lesser breeds, those without Guild affiliation, when he resumed his booth in Immigration.
    “If you will step this way, Guildmember Ree.” Thyrol made another of his graceful gestures.
    When she moved to walk beside him, he altered his stride to keep a deferential meter from her. The others fell in behind. Killashandra shrugged, accepting the protocol. Not having to chat with her escort gave her a chance to glance about the shuttle port. The facility was functional and decorated with murals of Life on Optheria: the main attraction of the Summer Festival—the organ—was not depicted. Nor did the vaulted arrivals hall appear to have any catering areas apart from one narrow bank for beverage dispensing. Conspicious by their absence were curio and souvenir booths. Not even a ticket bank was to be seen. And only one lounge area. At the wide exit, the doors sighed aside for Killashandra and Thyrol, who quickly walked down the wide shallow steps to a broad, intricately patterned apron of flat stones. Beyond was the roadway where the crew had just finished stowing the three foam crates in a large ground effect machine.
    Suddenly an arc of light flashed on behind Killashandra and a muted alarm sounded. Guards materialized from inconspicuous booths on both sides of the main entrance and approached the three Optherians of the reception committee who were walking behind Killashandra and Thyrol.
    “Please do not be disconcerted, Guildmember Ree.” Thyrol waved to the guards and they retreated back into their stations. The arc of light disappeared.
    “What was that all about?”
    “Merely a security precaution.”
    “For my leaving the shuttle port?”
    Thyrol cleared his throat. “Actually, for Optherians leaving the shuttle port.”
    “Leaving?”
    “This is our vehicle, Guildmember,” Thyrol said, smoothly urging her across the flagstone plaza. She allowed herself to be diverted because it was obvious that, whoever
left
the Shuttle Port was first obliged to
enter:
the alarm would work in both directions. But how could the device distinguish Optherians from other humans? No mutation had been mentioned in her perusal of the
Encyclopedia Galactica
entry for the planet: most ingenious for a warning device to differentiate between residents and nonresidents. But surely it got a bit noisy and confusing when Optherians were escorting tourists to the shuttle port. Or was that the reason for this broad flagstone area? She would have to check on FSP regulations about