*Excellent,* she complimented him. *You learn quickly. Now I must
test you, to find your shield's present strength. Prepare yourself.*
*Right.* Medart's shield went back up, and Corina began probing,
gradually increasing the strength and intensity of her attack while the
Ranger fought to hold his shield. His eyes closed, his fists clenched
with his effort. He was starting to break out in a sweat when Corina
felt the shield waver and instantly released her pressure.
"Are you all right, Ranger?"
"I think so," Medart said, shaking his head experimentally. "That was
. . . it was like nothing I've ever felt, ever even imagined." He took
several deep breaths, relaxing, then asked, "Just how much force were
you using?"
"About half my maximum."
"How's that compare to Thark?"
"That is difficult to say." Corina's ears went back slowly, a
thoughtful frown. "I would estimate he has half again my strength, so
that would be perhaps a third of his maximum."
The Ranger looked grim. "One chance in five? Looks to me more like
one in fifty."
"You forget he trained me. I know his patterns, can anticipate how and
where he is most likely to strike me, and strengthen my shield
accordingly. There is the added factor that this practice will benefit
me almost as much as it will you. My estimate remains one in five."
"You know more about it than I do." Despite his words, Medart was
doubtful. "Do we try that again, or what?"
"That would be unwise now; it is more of a strain than you realize. No
more than two, or at most three brief sessions like that per day, until
you gain strength. It would be as well to begin teaching you to use
darlas, however. It means going much faster than is usual for this
type of training, but our time is limited."
"It is that," Medart agreed. "How do I go about darlas?"
"It is similar to telepathy, which you already know, but is projected
directly rather than through the TP center, and is much more powerful.
You must try to force a feeling of pressure, of constriction, on your
opponent."
She raised her shield, holding it at half strength so she could feel
any success he might have. "All right, go ahead."
She waited patiently, but felt nothing, so she lowered her shield
slightly. Still nothing. She dropped it even further, finally managed
to detect an extremely faint, almost nonexistent, touch.
Even that faded, and Medart looked at her with a frown. "That didn't
seem to be working too well, did it? What am I doing wrong?"
"It was indeed weak," Corina admitted, "but with my shield at minimum I
was able to detect something. Each individual is different, even among
Irschchans, and though it is far clearer than most, your pattern
remains human. You will simply have to keep trying until you find what
works for you. The potential is there."
"Okay, let's try it again." Medart closed his eyes, and Corina set her
shield at about a third of its full strength.
After perhaps a minute, she felt a faint tingle. It got stronger for a
moment, peaking at what felt like a gentle nudge before fading again.
She studied the Ranger's expression of concentration, and decided to
keep her shield up at the same intensity. She would give him another
five minutes; that should not strain him unduly, and then she would end
the session.
* * * * *
The next thing she knew, she was flat on her back in the grass, looking
up at Medart's worried face. "Are you all right, Sir Corina?" he
demanded.
She struggled to sit up, dazed, and felt him supporting her.
"Are you all right?" he asked again.
She took a quick self-inventory, decided she was well if uncomfortable,
and reassured him. "I am unharmed, though I will have a headache for
some time. What did you do?"
He hesitated for a moment, looking her over carefully. "I'm not
certain. Nothing seemed to be working, so I tried picturing a giant
anaconda--that's a Terran snake--wrapped around you, contracting. I
finally got it good and clear, and you collapsed. Are you sure you're
all right?"
Corina growled softly, disgusted at herself. "Blades! I should have
thought of that. Unless you concentrate on words, I keep getting
pictures from you. I should have realized your primary orientation was
visual, and guided you--"
"Oh, no, you don't," Medart interrupted. "If there's any chewing out
to be done around here, I'll take care of it. You said it yourself:
everyone's different, and you're not that familiar with human patterns.
And you've never taught before. You can't be expected to anticipate
everything at once."
He gave her a quizzical look that reminded her of their first meeting.
"I hadn't realized how different in some ways, and how similar in
others, Irschchans and humans are until your shield fell. I seemed to
almost be you for a couple of seconds, just before you blacked out. I
glimpsed a lot of things, but I couldn't understand more than half of
them."
Corina was sitting unsupported now, with Medart squatting on his heels
facing her. She stared at him, then started searching intensively
through her memories of the last few minutes. Her shield was still
down, and Medart followed her thoughts with no difficulty.
*Eyes closed . . . five minutes, then . . . picture . . . What's he--*
Then an image of herself tangled in an exaggeration of Medart's
visualization, a confused jumble that reminded the Ranger of
multi-colored spaghetti. She started probing at it, using his actual
visualization to guide her as she finally tugged at what appeared to be
a key strand. That made the `spaghetti' disappear, releasing a flood
of concept/imagery/experience into her mind, understandable only in
fragments that seemed to flow past and through her.
"Pattern rapport," she breathed in wonder.
"Right, I got that much," Medart said. "But what is it? I'm not sure
I understand anything about it but its name."
"It is an extremely unusual stress phenomenon," Corina said, picking
her words with care. "It occurs when two very similar mind patterns
are in close physical proximity and under considerable stress.
Something--the Order is not sure what, but the most respected theory is
both underminds acting as one--apparently `decides' to relieve the
stress by combining whatever memories can be used to accomplish that
purpose."
"But aren't human and Irschchan patterns too different for that to
happen?" Medart objected. "That's what you seemed to think earlier, at
least."
"I believed so, yes," Corina said slowly. "Yet the Order's millennia
of experience cannot be totally wrong. It had to be pattern rapport."
"Then either human and Irschchan patterns are closer than anyone's ever
suspected . . ."
"Or it is our own two basic patterns which are in phase."
"Uh-huh, that could-- Hey! Remember, I told you I had more trouble
reading Sunbeam than I did reading you?"
"That must be the case, then, but I would like to know--" Corina cut
that thought off before it could go somewhere she didn't want to
follow.
Medart, though he wasn't about to broadcast it, had a pretty good idea
what the pattern rapport might mean. He wasn't at all familiar yet
with Talent, granted, but he did know what his problem was. Apparently
so did what she called her undermind, and it agreed with him. "I'd
suggest a hearty meal and a good night's sleep," he said. "That was a
shock to both of us, and we'll solve our problems better in the
morning, when we've rested and steadied down."
Corina nodded agreement. "That sounds most reasonable. We do both
need time to integrate the . . . new experiences. I would say you in
particular; I at least knew of the possibility, though I never thought
it would happen to me."
Medart chuckled. "Don't be too sure who needs it more. I've been
through something similar--you studied the Sandeman Annexation, of
course."
"Of course," Corina agreed, puzzled.
"I needed to learn as much as I could about them, as quickly as
possible, and Gaelan DarShona, who had sworn personal fealty to Baron
Klaes, agreed to a mind-probe. You know about those?"
"I have heard of them," Corina said. "An artificial form of telepathy
the Order considers repugnant."
"Close enough. At any rate, I had Gaelan given a deep, full-experience
probe, with myself hooked up as the receiver. So I've already `been'
one other person. You haven't."
"That may indeed make a difference," Corina agreed. "I wonder if I
will experience that part, or if it was bypassed as unnecessary."
"I imagine you'll find out. If you do, I'm sure you'll find it both
interesting and different. For now, though, let's go eat."
Corina followed him to the shuttle, conscientiously trying not to think
about the rapport, but with only moderate success. It was less the
contents of the transfer that concerned her, than the reason for it.
Her undermind must be trying to tell her something, but what? And
. . . did she really want to know?
The shuttle, at Medart's instructions, took them to Mess Three. "With
Sunbeam assigned to you, she's probably staying on the day-shift
schedule, so she'd be going to eat about now. She should be able to
keep our minds off anything too serious, as long as we don't start
talking shop."
"Do you eat there often?" Corina asked, glad of the change of subject.
"Fairly often," Medart replied. "I like the relaxed atmosphere, even
if it is a bit on the noisy side occasionally. It was stiff the first
few times, right after I took over Chang, until they adapted. It
wouldn't be quite acceptable for me to join in the horseplay, but
nobody minds as long as I just watch and listen."
Sunbeam was indeed in the mess, standing at the row of autochefs with
Major Dawson. Medart and Corina got in line behind them and, when
Sunbeam turned around, were invited to join the pair. They agreed; it
was, after all, what they had hoped for. Corina decided on hellbeast
steak again; it was becoming one of her staples, since Sunbeam had
introduced her to it. Besides that, she ordered two things she hadn't
yet tried--a taco and tapioca pudding--and her usual milk.
Medart looked at her tray. "That's quite an assortment you've got
there. What're you trying to do, sample everything on board?"
"Not quite, though I am trying a number of things. It appears I will
be aboard for some time, and I prefer variety. The tastes are strange,
but some are quite good."
They were carrying their orders to the table when Medart noticed
something seemed to be missing. "No coffee?"
Corina shook her head. "No. I cannot understand how you can drink
something so corrosive, much less appear to enjoy it."
"It's an acquired taste," the Ranger agreed. They sat down as he
continued, "But the Navy seems to run on it, and I'll admit to drinking
more than I should."
"Drink what?" Sunbeam asked, having missed the first part of the
conversation.
"Coffee," Medart replied. "Sir Corina thinks we're crazy to drink it."