"I noticed no reduction in field strength," Corina said. "You are
too--it is difficult to put properly. Defensive, perhaps, or suspicious.
If this is to work, you must trust me." She thought for a minute, then
took the dagger from her belt and held it out to the Ranger, hiding a
wince of anticipation at his touch. "Perhaps it will be easier if I am
not armed."
Medart took the soul-blade, too surprised not to. Unlike Dawson, he
knew the blade's significance, and could appreciate Corina's action.
She had to be really determined about this working, he thought.
Thark's betrayal must have hurt even more than he'd gathered earlier.
"Let's give it another try, then. But it isn't easy turning off
something you never knew was on."
"True." Corina was surprised to find his touch on her blade didn't
bring discomfort. That was highly unusual, but she was becoming
accustomed to unusual things around this human. "Again, try to relax.
I will continue to check your progress."
"Right." For the second time, Medart closed his eyes and began the
deep-breathing routine. In and hold . . . body relaxed . . . out and
hold . . . cat-clean scent . . . in and hold . . . cat-and-mouse . . .
oh, hell!
"What is it, Ranger?" There had been a flash, an instant of touch too
fast for her to grasp and expand, then nothing.
"This isn't going to work, and I think I know what the problem is.
Every time I try to relax, I see those four Marines stunned on the deck
and the other one with your knife at his throat."
"So your undermind considers me dangerous, is trying to protect you
from that. Yes, that is reasonable." Corina thought for a moment. "I
seemed to get the impression of memory-smell, though I cannot be sure.
And perhaps of a small feline. When MacLeod discovered Irschcha, he
thought of us at first as 'overgrown pussycats', and other humans
seemed to agree. Perhaps if you thought of me as some sort of domestic
pet?"
Medart considered that idea, then chuckled. "I used to raise Siamese
cats, and you Irschchans do remind me of them. It's worth a try."
Kimi and Saren, his first pair. Not Saren, who'd been on the blocky
side for a Siamese; young Losinj was more like Kimi, slender and
incredibly graceful. She'd climb up on his lap, butt his chin with her
head to demand that he scratch behind her ears . . .
Corina, observing carefully, felt his shield start to weaken. That
continued until she was able to catch a mental picture of herself, with
parts of her fur more deeply colored, curled up on the Ranger's lap and
purring with contentment while he gently scratched behind her ears.
She echoed his amusement silently, then began examining his mind
pattern. She was careful not to let him realize what she was doing,
though she was reasonably sure he could not feel her check. That was
both quick and thorough, his mental "atmosphere" far less murky than
the other humans she had touched--and his patterns were clear as well,
easy to read and work with. His Talent was unmistakable--his potential
Talent, she corrected herself; he might not be able to learn its use.
She could at least try activating his latent telepathic ability. That
might be somewhat delicate, given his humanity, but with such clear
patterns, it should not be particularly difficult. She knew the
theory, and Thark had done the same for her; it was merely a matter of
redirecting the mental impulses of communication from the speech center
to the TP center, something she ought to be able to do without him even
realizing the change was being made.
*That is a little better,* she thought at him while pretending to speak
aloud. *Perhaps if we combine what you are doing now with a discussion
of something else for awhile, it will be more effective.*
"Yeah, maybe." Excellent, Corina thought. He could definitely
receive, then--a very good sign. "What do you want to talk about?"
*It does not really matter. Something you like, a memory you find
relaxing or humorous.* She felt her ears twitch nervously, hoped he
did not notice. The redirection she was attempting was indeed simple,
but delicate with the human-different patterns however clear they were,
and she needed no extra complications.
"There aren't too many of those in a Ranger's life," Medart said
slowly. It was rather like listening to a simultaneous echo, Corina
thought as she very cautiously nudged the flow of impulses. "It's a
damn good life, don't get me wrong, but it doesn't have many laughs,
and the most satisfying parts are usually the result of a lot of work,
and sometimes pain." He chuckled, ruefully. "Exactly what I shouldn't
be telling someone I'm trying to get to join us, I guess--but if you
pay attention to Imperial news, you picked up on that for yourself. As
someone said a lot of years ago, Rangers and active Life Nobles tend to
get into 'dangerously interesting situations'."
It seemed like a good enough subject, as well as having a strong
bearing on the offer he had just made her, so Corina pursued it.
*True. I find it difficult to believe, however, that individuals of
such value are permitted to place their lives at serious risk so
frequently.*
Medart chuckled. "We're perfectly aware of our value, believe me, and
we're just as fond of life as anyone else--maybe more so, since we're
at risk so often. But there're some things worth the risk--a feeling
you share, or you wouldn't be here."
*Also true,* Corina conceded. *The Empire has given my people much;
saving it for them, and others, is something I think well worth the
risk I took. But I am a private individual; no one may forbid me to
take whatever risks I judge necessary.*
Medart grew thoughtful, making it easier for Corina to establish the
mental pathway she was working at. He was still speaking aloud,
though. "We aren't, but that evaluation is still up to us; if we think
the situation's worth risking a Ranger, or if it needs our abilities,
we go in ourselves. If not, we send in someone else--and that's a hell
of a lot harder, I'll tell you right now."
*Thinking of one's own life objectively is difficult,* Corina agreed.
*I believe I would find it difficult to think of my life as having more
value than another person's.*
*Or a group's,* Medart said, speech now echoing telepathy. *You learn
eventually, but it is hard, especially at first. We've all made at
least one bad call, usually going in when we should've sent someone.
That hasn't been fatal so far, and doesn't even always mean getting
hurt--but Steve Tarlac's first solo mission came within an hour or so
of being his last.*
*I believe I have heard about that incident,* Corina sent, *but would
you mind refreshing my memory?*
*It got made into a holoshow, so I'd be surprised if you hadn't--but
okay, why not? He got captured by a group of rebels--a lot smaller
scale than this rebellion, just one system--who beat him with a whip
they'd soaked in a particularly nasty poison. He'd refused a comm
implant for reasons he never explained, so I can't argue them, but it
meant he couldn't call for help. If it hadn't been for a young camper
who rescued him, and one of the rebels who decided to call the Marines
when a Ranger got hurt, he'd have died of stingweed poisoning. The
rebel was killed by his former colleagues before Marines could get to
him to protect him, but the youngster earned a Life Dukedom.*
*I believe I do remember,* Corina sent. Medart's voice had kept
getting softer, and by the time he finished, he was using only
telepathy. The redirection was successful, the new pathway now
established. Still, Corina hoped he would not realize it right away,
would instead remain intent on the conversation for at least a few
minutes more to strengthen the new pattern. *The young man was David
Scanlon, was he not? And he cared for Ranger Tarlac in a cave, was in
the middle of a gun battle with the rebels when the Marines arrived. I
have wondered if that part was the holo director's dramatic license, or
if it actually happened that way.*
*That was how it happened,* Medart assured her. *Scanlon wasn't about
to give up, either, according to the Marines' testimony. He insisted
that one of them come into the cave to prove @'s identity before he'd
give up his blaster--and when he did, he only had one half-exhausted
powerpack, and a knife for a backup. That was one brave and determined
young man.*
*I must agree. Ranger Tarlac was most fortunate he and the unusual
rebel were in the area.*
*Right, but the Traiti'll tell you it was the Circle of Lords looking
after him. Speaking of which, how do you feel about religion?*
*I know it is a subject both important and sensitive to humans, so I
normally hesitate discuss it. To most Irschchans, religion is a rather
peculiar aberration; while a deity or deities may exist, they are
unnecessary and none have shown any proof of themselves. I prefer to
regard them as interesting possibilities. May I ask you the same
question?*
*I was raised Omnist, and it stuck; I believe in one Creator and a wide
assortment of secondary gods. I have no more proof than you do, but
since that's how I was raised and I can't disprove their existence, I
accept them, though I'm not what you'd call devout. Most of us are
either Omnist or agnostics, like you, and the rest aren't dogmatic
about their beliefs being the only truth.* He chuckled. *Naturally,
since the Empire doesn't promote any given religion or lack thereof.*
*Quite understandable, from what I have read of human history.* Corina
was no longer pretending vocal speech, though she wasn't being obvious
about her silence; he was doing well enough that he deserved a fair
chance to discover how he was "speaking" to her.