By the time they got to the gym, it had been set up for the
demonstration; it held a translucent-walled structure that Corina
recognized from descriptions as a combat practice module, its walls
opaque from the inside. To her dismay, there was an audience; off-duty
crewwens lined the gym walls. An audience, she thought, was the last
thing she needed now--but there was no help for it; she would simply
have to do her best in spite of them.
Then she saw Greggson and five others in Marine black standing slightly
apart from the spectators. She recognized Dawson, and three of the
others were as big--but the fifth, little taller than Corina herself
and seemingly as slight of build, she recognized as by far the most
dangerous. The pale-eyed, dark-skinned blonds from Subsector Sandeman
were the product of major genetic engineering, particularly their
warriors. They had a number of advantages over standard humans, but
the only ones she needed to worry about right now were their greater
strength and speed. Maybe Greggson was right after all. Talent was
important, but it certainly was not the only factor; she knew better
than to underestimate Imperial Marines, and when one of them was a
Sandeman warrior--
She broke off that line of thought abruptly. If she kept it up, the
Marines would have no need to defeat her; she would do it to herself.
Calm and control, as Valla and Thark had told her repeatedly, were the
keys to victory. She and Medart joined the waiting group.
"My men have been briefed, Ranger," Greggson said. "And they have
stunners, not blasters, so . . . Sir Corina . . . won't be hurt." He
turned to her. "Unless, of course, you'd rather call it off."
Corina's self-doubt was turning into determination under his scorn.
"No, thank you," she said quietly. "I will continue."
Medart smiled briefly at her, then turned to Greggson. "Get off her
back, Colonel," he said. "You can join the spectators; I'll set up the
situation for them."
Greggson obeyed silently, and Medart turned to the team leader. "This
may be a demonstration, Major Dawson, but I want you to treat it
exactly as you would a real security alert. You've just gotten word of
an intruder, probably armed, and you're checking the ship." He turned
to Corina, touching a control beside the module's entrance. When the
walls turned opaque, he said, "You're the intruder, of course. Go on
in the module and pick yourself a spot. I'll give you time for that,
then send them in and turn the walls back to one-way."
"Yes, Ranger." Corina did as she was told, picking a spot near the far
end, a location that had several connecting corridors. If what she'd
read about search procedures held true, the team would split into two
pairs, with the fifth person keeping several meters behind to back up
whoever needed it. Her best bet, if they separated widely enough, was
to take out one pair and the backup, then the remaining pair. If not,
it would probably be best to try for the standard humans first--
assuming, as seemed most logical, the Sandeman was backup--which would
leave all her attention free for him.
She closed her eyes, taking her soul-blade and its sheath from her
belt, and scanned for other presences as she would if she were entering
hostile territory. Despite the distractions of the crowd, she quickly
sensed her five opponents--and got an unpleasant shock. Three were
totally unshielded, and Dawson's screen was so weak it would offer him
no protection--but the fifth had a shield as tight as any she'd ever
felt. She shook her head in brief amazement. Four shielded humans in
the perhaps three hundred she had mind-touched since coming aboard, and
Thark insisted he had met no Talented humans? But then the Emperor-class
cruisers did have elite crews, and three of the four were Command
level--that must be significant, somehow.
But this was no time to worry about theory. She had been almost right
about her opponents' formation; two were coming down secondary
passages, the fifth--the shielded one, and she learned from Dawson that
he was the Sandeman--was coming down the main corridor. There was no
way she could defeat them conventionally, but she had known that from
the beginning--and this was to be a demonstration of the Order's
potential; her Talent, not her blade-work, was necessary. So she
should try for the standard humans first, with darlas.
In training she'd always been able to see, as well as sense, her
opponents; although she had been told her Talent, like Thark's, was
strong enough to make visual contact unnecessary, she wasn't sure she
could concentrate well enough without it. Considering the
circumstances, however, it was worth trying; she chose Dawson, focusing
her Talent on him with what felt like the right degree of intensity to
knock him out for roughly an hour.
To her surprise and satisfaction, her attack was just as effective and
noticeably less difficult than in her practice sessions; she sensed the
flash of Dawson's pain, then his loss of consciousness. It was easy to
repeat the process with the unshielded three, and it was good to know
that her training had been so effective--but she knew her most
dangerous opponent remained. And even Thark's darlas couldn't penetrate
a shield that strong, which left TK, weak as hers was, her only real
weapon.
She waited tensely, a meter back from the main passageway, as he
approached. He was quiet, his steps barely audible, but she didn't
need that to place his relative position. He stopped just short of the
cross corridor, then entered swiftly, in a crouch, his stunner ready to
fire--but he was looking to his left, away from her, and that gave her
the time she needed to push the stunner's powerpack release and, as it
fell, spring at him with her sheathed blade coming to rest at the angle
of his jaw, close under his ear.
To her surprise he grinned at her, raising his hands. "I'd call that
conclusive advantage, Sir Corina," he said. "With abilities and
reflexes like that, you should've been born Sandeman--I'm Lieutenant
Nevan DarLeras. Welcome aboard."
Corina replaced the soul-blade at her belt and stepped back, returning
his courtesy with a bow. She'd read about Sandeman ethnocentrism, and
knew he meant his words as a compliment, so she said, "You do me honor,
warrior. I am pleased to meet you; I hope my victory has not
dishonored you or your fellows in the eyes of your shipmates."
The Sandeman chuckled. "Hardly, with powers that were only legend
until you proved them. The others are all right?"
"They are unconscious and they will have painful headaches when they
wake, but other than that, they are fine."
"Only because it was an exercise, I'd say." Nevan picked up the
powerpack, replaced it in the stunner, and holstered his weapon. "May
I ask a tactical question?"
"Of course."
"In that case, why did you knock them out and simply remove the
power-pack from my stunner? I would have expected you to use your
strongest ability against me."
Both looked toward the entrance as they heard footsteps, and saw Ranger
Medart approaching. When he joined them, he said, "I'd like the answer
to that one myself."
"I did," Corina replied. "Although it would be more precise to say
that I used the strongest of my powers he was vulnerable to. His
shield is strong enough to protect him from an attack directly against
his mind; were it weaker and this not an exercise, I could break
through, injuring or killing him. However, even the best shield does
not protect from physical effects, so I was able to use TK against him.
Had this been actual combat, I would have attacked him instead of his
weapon, but a ruptured blood vessel in the brain is too permanent for a
simple demonstration."
"It is that," Medart agreed, pleased and a little surprised at what
sounded like she might be attempting mild humor. "If this were real,
then, you're saying all five would be dead."
"Yes. Although had the warrior Nevan entered the corridor facing right
instead of left, the result would have been different."
"But he wasn't." Medart nodded to the Sandeman. "You can go back to
whatever you were doing, Lieutenant; I know you're not on watch right
now."
"Thank you, sir." Nevan bowed to Corina, then left.
Medart gave Corina his full attention. If he hadn't just watched her
do it, he would have found it almost impossible to believe one small,
delicate-looking student could defeat five Marines at all, much less do
it so quickly and with so little apparent effort. Her demonstration
didn't make the actual threat any worse, of course; it just made the
magnitude of that threat a lot more apparent. The White Order was a
small group compared to the rest of the Empire, but with that type of
power, it wouldn't take many of them to cause a major disruption.
Especially if they selected their targets carefully, which Medart had
no doubt would be the case.
He'd better find out her potential as soon as he could, he decided. If
she wasn't Ranger material, best to know it right away and go from
there; if she was, she should be wearing the badge. It was a demanding
job, but he enjoyed the challenges, and so would she if she had what it
took--which he found himself hoping she did. "That was a very
impressive demonstration, Sir Corina," he said then. "I think you and
I need to have a serious talk. Let's go to my quarters, where we won't
be disturbed."
* * * * *
Corina settled into the armchair Medart indicated, her legs curled
under her, and accepted the glass of milk he offered. He had sounded
quite somber when he had mentioned the demonstration, and had been
silent on the way here, but there was something in his attitude that
gave her the impression of hope, as well.
His first question startled her. "Have you given any thought to what
you're going to do with your life, now that you've gone against the
White Order?"
All she could do for a moment was look at him. Finally she said, "I
have hardly had time to think about that, Ranger. I suppose I will
return to my original ambition, which was to attend the Imperial
Military Academy; being a naval officer appears to be the most
practical way for me to explore the Empire while being of service to
it."
That was promising, Medart thought--very promising. "I don't mean to
rush you," he told her. "I have a couple of ideas on that line myself,
so I'm naturally curious, but I don't need to know right this second.
You're welcome to stay aboard the Chang until you make up your mind,
either as my assistant or simply as a guest."
Corina was puzzled--what ideas could he possibly have about her
future?--but all she said was, "I thank you for your kindness; I do
need time to adjust."
"Probably less than you think, from what I've seen." Medart seated
himself, taking a sip of coffee. "Tell me about yourself."
Corina made a gesture of dismissal. "There is little to tell, I fear.
Until my Talent was accidentally discovered four years ago, I led a
normal, quiet life. Afterward, I received training in how to use it,
as well as going to tertiary school. Though my Talent was late in
developing, it was strong enough for Thark to take an interest in me
and supervise my training until he took it over completely. Otherwise
there is nothing notable."
"That isn't exactly what I meant," Medart said. "I was thinking more
about things like how you get along with your family, how you feel
about other people, that sort of thing."
"Again, there is nothing truly unusual. I moved to MacLeod's Landing
when my Talent was discovered, to make my studies under Thark possible.
The Order, as is customary, was supporting me until my initiation, as
well as providing tuition for my advanced schooling. I remain grateful
for that, despite what I now know of them. My parents and I get along
well enough, though we are not close. We simply have very little in
common. The same is true for my other relatives, including my
siblings."
"What about other people?"
She laid her ears back in what Medart recognized as a frown. "That is
difficult to explain. It is not that I have trouble associating with
others, because I do not. More and more, however, I find myself
reacting as an observer rather than as a participant, especially in
purely social gatherings. That disturbs me."
Better and better, Medart thought; that was a pretty good description
of the detachment a Ranger needed to maintain impartiality. "Don't let
it," he advised. "I feel the same way most of the time myself; it's
nothing to worry about. You said you'd planned to go to the Academy;
do they do pre-testing here?"
"Yes." Corina allowed herself a brief purr. "I did well enough to
receive conditional acceptance by the main Academy on Terra."
Medart raised an eyebrow. "Not bad, though I wouldn't wish Test Week
on my worst enemy. Emperor Chang, query the local comps for those
records, please, and send me a hard copy."
"Yes, Ranger," the ship replied. "It may take some time, however."
"By morning will be fine. Medart out."
Corina stared at him, then decided she had to ask. "Why are you so
interested in me?"
"Isn't it obvious? You're my assistant, at least for now, and I need
to know a lot more about you than your name."
Corina wished she could probe him, but his shield made that impossible.
His interest, she was certain, was greater than normal about a simple
assistant--especially when he had mentioned having a couple of ideas
about her life-plans. But she had been raised to trust Rangers; if
that was all he thought it wise to say, it would be best not to
persist.
Medart grinned at her. "You want more, but you won't ask. That's
good, since I don't have the answers just yet. Why not let me call
Sunbeam up here, get her to take you to supper, then both of you relax
for the evening? We can talk more once I've gone through your records,
and I expect to have a war conference after that, when you'll have to
evaluate whatever you know about Thark for us."
* * * * *
Medart had been too keyed up by the young Irschchan's demonstration to
even try sleeping normally. Two hours on the sleep machine gave him
the equivalent of a good eight hours' rest, though, and by 0100 he was
keying the service panel in his cabin for a cup of coffee, strong and
black, plenty of sugar.
He gulped half the cup, scalding his tongue in the process, then sipped
at the rest, thinking about her and making plans for the day. First
thing to do was check her records, then report his findings to the
Emperor. From what he knew of her already, he fully expected those
reports to be favorable.
He finished the first cup of coffee, then checked his delivery slot,
finding Chang had accomplished its mission; the slot held a hard copy
of Corina's records, complete with summary. He got a second cup of
coffee, taking it and the printout over to his work area.
Several hours passed as he studied those records with growing
satisfaction. The more he read, the more promising Corina Losinj
looked. The only flaw he could find was in her psych profile; it
showed a lack of self-confidence. Medart wondered at that, because she
certainly didn't lack ability. Still, self-evaluations were
notoriously inaccurate--and for his current purpose, too little
confidence was better than too much.
Finally he stood and stretched, easing muscles cramped from sitting in
one position too long. His next step, he decided with some amusement,
would have to be getting rid of that coffee!
That accomplished, he returned to his work area and switched his
display screen to communications mode. It was 0800 by ship and Palace
time; the Emperor would be in his office by now, so Medart accessed the
Imperial priority band, then the Emperor's private comset.
The response was prompt; Davis' face appeared within five seconds.
"Morning, Jim. What have you found out?"
"She looks promising, sir. Very promising. I talked to her a bit last
night, and I've just finished going over her records. They're damn
good. IQ in the top tenth percent, personality profile stable Class I.
School grades above average but not spectacular--her teachers attribute
it to boredom from lack of challenge, even in the advanced classes--and
she's a generalist. Independent work is widespread and good; she did
one paper on Imperial administration that should be turned into a
handbook. And she's already taken the pre-Academy tests. Top level,
of course; she qualified for the Academy at the Complex. Which is
where she plans to go, now that she's not committed to the White Order
any longer."
"Typical pattern for a Ranger, all right," the Emperor said with a
smile. Then he turned serious. "How many potential Rangers are we
missing? The gods know we need every one we can find! Anything else?"
"She's lacking self-confidence, but that's the only negative thing I
saw. As for missing others, there can't be too many we would miss,
even on Irschcha. Anyone with the right personality pattern is certain
to try for the Academy, and that degree of ability will get them to
Terra--unless they're stopped by something, like the White Order
pre-empting anyone with Talent."
"Mm." The Emperor looked dissatisfied. "Not much we can do about
that, though. You're satisfied that Sir Corina is fully qualified?"
"No question in my mind. Yes, sir, she is--maybe more so than the rest
of us, with her extra Talent abilities. She demonstrated them very
convincingly yesterday afternoon." Medart described the previous day's
exercise in full detail, then shook his head. "It was almost
unbelievable. Five Marines, with one of them a Sandeman warrior."
"And you saw it," Davis said. "If Chang made a tape, I'd like a copy."
"We didn't expect much, so I didn't order one, but somebody else might
have. Emperor Chang?"
"Colonel Greggson has all such exercises taped for analysis, Ranger. I
will send His Majesty a copy."
"Thank you. Medart out."
There was a brief silence while the ship sent the tape and Emperor
Davis watched it. When his attention returned to Medart, he echoed the
Ranger's headshake. "I see what you mean, Jim. It's a good thing
she's with us, instead of the Order. Do you think you can get her to
join?"
"With that lack of self-confidence, I doubt it."
"Considering the rest of what you've just told me, she'll get over
that. Ask her to think it over, at least. It's possible that just
knowing we think she's suitable will do the trick.
"At any rate, I want a conference with you, her, and Chang's Command
Crew later today. We need to get more information from her, and we
also have to do some planning. How about 1600? If you can't talk her
into it by then, Rick and I will give it a try."
Medart nodded. "That sounds good, sir. Considering the time zone she
lived in, she's probably still asleep; that'll give me a chance to go
over her records again, maybe find a good talking point."
"Good enough. I'll talk to you again at 1600, then. Out."
The screen went blank, and Medart picked up the printout, carried it to
his favorite armchair, and sat half reading it and half sunk in
thought. Her lack of self-confidence was the real problem, all right;
it was hard enough convincing someone who had a normal amount, and not
always successful at that.
V
It was 0900 Standard, 0600 at the MacLeod's Landing time she was
accustomed to, when Corina was awakened by her doorchime. "Who is
there?" she called, stretching herself out of bed.
"It's just me, Sunbeam," came from the door speaker.
"Come in," Corina called back, taking her kilt from the autocloset.
She slipped into it, then stuck her head around the partition. "Can
you wait a few minutes while I brush myself?"
"Sure thing," Sunbeam replied. "I'm yours to command, Sir Corina;
remember Captain Hobison assigned me to you yesterday?"
"I remember," Corina said. "I do not wish to inconvenience you,
however. I will be with you soon." The closet, she was glad to see,
had cleaned her kilt; otherwise it would be looking rather bedraggled
by midday. She went through her morning routine, then walked into the
living area ready to face the new day.
"What do you want to do this morning?" Sunbeam asked.
"That is hard to say," Corina replied thoughtfully. "It all depends on
what Ranger Medart has planned for me. Right now, though, I would like
a glass of milk." She started toward the service panel, but Sunbeam
was already there.
"I'll get it for you," Sunbeam said. "I could use a glass myself."
"Thank you." Corina wasn't used to having others do things for her,
but she sensed that Sunbeam was agitated about something and wanted to
move around, so she sat in one of the armchairs, tucking her feet under
herself.
She took the glass Sunbeam brought, enjoyed a deep swallow, then said,
"What is disturbing you, Sunbeam? Can I help?"
"Well . . ." Sunbeam hesitated, then blurted, "It's that demonstration
you gave yesterday. Stars above! The whole ship's talking about how
you put down five top Marines with no more trouble than I'd have, oh,
swatting a fly! I'm about half scared to be in the same room with you!"
"You should not be," Corina said, projecting amusement to try and calm
the human Ensign. "I am the same person you met yesterday, and I
certainly had no intention of frightening anybody."
Sunbeam ventured a half smile. "Maybe not, but you did a great job
without meaning to, then."
"Are the Marines all right?"
"They're fine, from what I hear," was the slightly steadier reply.
"Except for their pride; that was pretty badly battered." Sunbeam
paused, then grinned. "Four of them, anyway. That cute Sandeman keeps
saying how pretty you are, and what a warrior you'd be if you'd been
lucky enough to be born on Sandeman. If I didn't know better, I'd say
he has a crush on you."
"I am quite content being Irschchan," Corina said, no longer needing to
pretend her amusement. "Though I must admit his compliments are
flattering . . . I do regret causing the others distress, though the
demonstration was necessary. Nor was there any dishonor in their
defeat; they did as well as possible for those who lack Talent."
Sunbeam looked more cheerful. "Maybe it would help if you told them
so."
"I will, then, at the first opportunity."
"And you should see Colonel Greggson!" Sunbeam barely managed to
suppress a giggle. "He's grumping around the ship like an old bear,
snapping at everyone. I don't think he's too fond of you. Maybe I
shouldn't say it, but he keeps talking about an oversized kitten making
monkeys out of his men."
"He seemed to dislike me even before that," Corina said.
"Probably. He isn't too fond of non-humans, and he doesn't even like
many of us. Sometimes I don't think he even likes himself. But there
aren't many of that kind aboard Chang; most of our people are really
nice. You'll like them."
There was another chime at the door. Without bothering to find out who
it was, Corina called out, "Come in."
Medart entered, and she and Sunbeam stood.
"I'd like to talk to Sir Corina alone," he told Sunbeam. "Can you find
something to keep yourself occupied till we're done?"
"Can I ever!" Sunbeam exclaimed happily. "I've been trying to finish
that new xenology tape for days!"
Medart shook his head slowly, watching her leave with a lopsided grin.
Then he seated himself in the other armchair and gazed intently at
Corina for several seconds. She returned the look with equal
intensity, wishing she could get through this unusual human's mind
screen.
Finally he spoke. "I have to ask you something very important, Sir
Corina. I don't want you to answer me now; I just want you to think
about it for awhile. Will you do that?"
"Of course," she replied, puzzled by his strangely hesitant manner.
"I was talking to the Emperor again earlier today. I spent most of the
morning studying your records, then told him what I'd found. We were
both quite impressed." Medart paused, seeming unsure of himself, then
hurried on. "We need more Rangers, especially non-human ones, and you
more than qualify. We're--I'm asking you to consider joining us."
Corina's first reaction was to wonder about Medart's mental stability.
He couldn't possibly be serious!
No, from the look on his face, he was serious. "I cannot," she
protested, shaking her head. "I have not even finished school--I am to
graduate this summer, and Thark did not insist I join the Prime Chapter
until then--I am only twenty-two, Standard, I could not possibly--"
"Hold it," Medart interrupted mildly. "You said you'd think about it
before you answered. I'm keeping you to that."
"Urr . . . all right." Corina nodded reluctantly. She would not be
graduating, or joining the Prime Chapter, or . . . She forced those
thoughts from her mind. The past was past; she had to go on. "I did
say that. But I will not change my mind."
"Don't be too sure," Medart said. "At least three of us said the same
thing, and they're part of the group now."
Both were silent for almost a minute, with Corina trying to think of
some way to change the subject, and at last she succeeded. "I have an
idea I would like to try, Ranger, if you have no objection."
"That depends on the idea. What is it?"
It wasn't really a strong conviction, more of a feeling, but Corina
said, "Unlike Thark, I believe that humans, at least some, do have
Talent and simply do not know how to use it. Were you an Irschchan,
with a mind shield as strong as the one you certainly possess, I would
be sure that your other Talents were equally strong. What I would like
to do, if I can get past your screen, is to find out if that is the
case. If it is, I would then teach you to use your Talent."
Medart sat in silent shock. Esper ability? Him? The psych people
kept trying to find real espers, but until Corina revealed her Talent--
despite what she'd said about the Rhine experiments, he didn't consider
them either complete or conclusive--he'd heard of nothing he found
convincing. If he weren't adaptable, though, he wouldn't be a Ranger;
after a few seconds, he said, "You really think there's a chance of
that?"
"A chance--that is all I am certain of, but yes, I think there is."
"Let's try for it, then."
"One caution," she said. "Even if you have the potential I think
possible from your shield, I have never trained anyone before."
"That's all right. I'm willing to take the chance if you are."
"Very well. You will have to let down your screen, however, before we
can accomplish anything. It would be best if you can drop it
willingly, though since you were unaware of its existence, that may not
be possible. If not, perhaps we can weaken it by inducing a relaxed
emotional state. I will not attempt to break through with darlas,
though I am sure I could, because it would be extremely painful at
best, and it would probably damage or destroy your mind. Nor, most
certainly, will I do what was done during the struggles to establish
the Order."
Omnivorous curiosity was part of a Ranger's job description; Medart
indulged his. "What was that?"
Corina's ears went back in distaste. "The infliction of systematic
pain, weakening both the will and the ability to resist."
"I wouldn't want that," Medart agreed. "We try the voluntary part
first, right? You'll have to tell me how to do it, though; until you
said something about it yesterday, I never even considered the
possibility of having one. And which is it--shield or screen?"
"The terms are used interchangeably, though technically a screen is
less powerful than a shield. I will try to be more precise henceforth.
Yours is a shield, and I am not sure I can tell you in words how to let
it down; you may have to work that out. It can be described as a sort
of mental force field, with your mind as generator and field both. You
have to relax, deactivate the generator as it were."
Medart closed his eyes, leaned back in the chair, and relaxed all his
muscles. Corina concentrated on his shield, ready to slip through the
smallest opening, watching his face as he tried something totally
beyond his experience.
A sort of mental force field, Medart thought. He knew how to turn off
a standard field; all that took was touching a control. This was a lot
more nebulous. He didn't have any switches to throw or dials to turn,
he had to deactivate part of himself. Relax, she'd said. What were a
couple of those tricks Jasmine had tried to teach him?
Deep breathing, he remembered. That was supposed to help, as long as
you didn't overdo and hyperventilate. In and hold, then out and hold
was the pattern. He began the exercise, doing the best he could to
relax--though he couldn't help wondering how he'd know if he succeeded.