Chaos take those Imperial schools anyway!
It was all their fault, Thark growled to himself, increasing his pace
as the sleek lines of his ship came into view. Not even the prospect
of flying the Prowler lightened his mood this time. The Chaos-loving
schools had done too much! They were fine for the unTalented, like
humans and now Traiti, but they had probably precipitated a disaster
here on Irschcha. Their damnable stress on Imperial rather than
planetary allegiance was to blame; it had deprived him of the strongest
Talent to appear in many years, Corina Losinj--and it would cost Corina
her life soon, if it hadn't already.
He was practically running toward his small ship now, dignity forgotten
in the need for haste. "Dammit all to hell!" he burst out, the human
curse seeming oddly appropriate under the circumstances. If the Terran
Empire hadn't discovered Irschcha for another century, or if Chear
hadn't chosen to affiliate with it, none of this would have had to
happen.
As Thark neared the ship, he forced his thoughts and emotions under
control, away from such useless speculations. He was High Adept of the
White Order now, not Chear, and it was up to him to correct Chear's
error. His calm voice did not betray his feelings when he returned the
salute of the gray-kilted Sanctioner standing at the foot of the
boarding ramp.
"Greetings, Master Thark," the Sanctioner said.
"Greetings, Underofficer Jamar. What is Prowler's status?"
"Senior Adepts Valla and Kainor are already on board, as is the rest of
my squad. The ship is ready for takeoff."
"Excellent," Thark said. "Then we leave immediately. We have no time
to waste." He hurried up the ramp into the ship.
Jamar followed, stopping to raise the ramp and close the lock. Thark
went on to the cockpit and secured himself in the pilot's seat,
scanning his instrumentation. He was an accomplished pilot, and rather
to his surprise he found that the pre-liftoff routine did ease his
mood, even under such unpleasant circumstances.
His ears went forward in satisfaction. Jamar had surpassed himself;
the only thing left was to alert his crew and passengers for immediate
takeoff. He did so, then fed full power to the null-gravs. There was
no need to wait for clearance; this was a private field, one of his
prerogatives as High Adept, and the Prowler, as his ship, had an
automatic clearance superseding any other in this system save an
Imperial Navy ship.
As soon as they were a safe ten diameters out from Irschcha he
activated the hyperdrive, then unstrapped himself and rose. Prowler's
course to Rendavi, the Crusade leaders' rendezvous, had been fed into
the navigation computer several days ago and been updated automatically
every hour since.
He started to leave the cockpit. Once the transition into hyperspace
had been made, there was no need for a pilot until it was time to
out-transition and land.
Still--at the moment, he really didn't feel like talking to his
lieutenants. He returned to the controls and sat down, staring into
the blank viewscreen and visualizing the morning's unexpected, perhaps
disastrous, developments. Perhaps if he had handled things
differently . . .
* * * * *
He had spent most of the week arranging things so he would be free all
day today, knowing such things would not be possible for much longer.
The weather had cooperated almost as if it were intelligent and sensed
the importance of this meeting. Although it was still early spring,
the day was a brilliant one, the temperature a comfortable fifteen
degrees. He had taken advantage of that, deciding to have Corina's
final lesson out on the sundeck.
He took several seating cushions outside and arranged them so the sun
would warm them, yet not glare into his or Corina's eyes. Then he
leaned back on one set of the cushions to wait for her. Relaxing
almost totally, he watched a small cloud drifting in the clear green
sky. The sun's gentle warmth on his fur was thoroughly enjoyable. It
was indeed a pleasant change, he mused, to be able to relish such a day
with no duties to interfere. His position as High Adept made such
luxuries all too rare.
Corina's lessons were a self-imposed duty, one he was pleased he had
assumed. He was looking forward to her initiation into the White
Order, and the fact that he had trained her himself would make that
doubly enjoyable.
It was fortunate that Corina was available to the Order at all. Her
Talent had been deeply latent, not developing until quite late.
Because of that, she had been missed by the Order's usual pre-school
testing. That, Thark thought, still bitter, was one of the few things
the Empire's very presence had not changed. Although the examiner had
believed she had sensed something, Corina had been unable to receive
even the simplest thoughts, and had not had even a trace of mental
screen.
She had been seventeen, close to eighteen years old by the new Imperial
Standard measure, when she had found herself beginning to pick up
thoughts. She had gone, naturally enough, to a local Order chapter for
help and possible training. The chapter had reported it to him,
knowing he would be interested; when Talent appeared so late it was
almost always minimal, usually only telepathy and a weak mind-screen,
and the tester had been astonished at Corina's strength.
Thark had been surprised himself when he scanned her. It was then that
he had decided to take her as his private student. Four years'
training had brought out her potential, the power he had sensed she
should be able to control, when they met. It would be formally
recognized soon, when she was initiated; then Thark could bring her
into the Prime Chapter, where the Order could make full use of her
Talents. He had no intention whatever of letting them go to waste.
Senior Adept Corina of the White Order, he thought--yes, it had a
pleasant ring. He and the others of the Prime Chapter already thought
of her that way, used her last name only when formality required it.
He caught sight of her then, and watched her come up the rubberoid walk
to his raised sundeck. As usual, she was precisely on time. And she
certainly wasn't difficult to spot; all her kilts were bright, but the
red-and-gold one she favored and was wearing today was positively
gaudy. Urr, perhaps her taste would improve as she matured. He looked
down at his own kilt, a conservative dark blue that went well with the
tawny shade of his fur. That, with its sporran, was one of the few
human innovations he appreciated.
Corina purred softly in pleasure when she saw Thark out on the sundeck.
Truly, this weather was too good to waste any of it indoors, especially
at this time of year. He stood as she approached.
"Good day, Master Thark," she said with a slight bow, her hands open
and raised to shoulder level.
Thark returned the formal bow. "Good day, Student Losinj. Be
welcome."
Formalities were certainly briefer since Irschcha had joined the
Empire, Thark thought. He wasn't sure yet whether he approved of that
or not. They had been time-consuming, but they had also given life a
certain grace that now seemed lacking, and had provided a social
lubricant that Irschchans, in his opinion, needed. He could be wrong,
though, he thought as he returned to his cushions.