"No, sir. I'm volunteering."
"Excellent. I will call a briefing as soon as I have spoken to all
those who have shields of adequate strength, and so are eligible for
the assault team. In the meantime you are relieved of normal duty;
relax, or do whatever you think best to prepare yourself."
"Yes, sir." Nevan came to attention again, waiting.
*You'll have to dismiss him,* Medart sent. *He's still Academy-stiff,
hasn't relaxed to Fleet standards yet.*
*Thank you.* "Dismissed, Lieutenant." Corina watched him leave,
purring softly in satisfaction that he, at least, was happy. Then her
ears went back slightly, and she turned to Medart. "I can no longer
put it off. We must speak to Colonel Greggson."
"I'll talk to him if you'd like, since he makes you uncomfortable."
"No, though I thank you for the offer. I have accepted this job, I
will do what it requires. I will speak to him."
"Right." Good for her, Medart thought. She'd apparently gotten more
from his memories than he'd realized; that sounded like something he'd
said once, back in the early days of his own career. Or maybe they
were just a lot alike.
* * * * *
Greggson, naturally, was in his office in the Security section. He
stood and came to attention as the two Rangers entered, strictly by the
book though his expression was cold. "Yes, sirs?"
Corina explained as she had to Nevan, seeing Greggson's expression
become thoughtful as he analyzed the problem. It seemed Jim was right,
she thought. This man was a professional, would do his job in spite of
his personal opinions. And his shield was fractionally tighter than
Hobison's or Nevan's, though not up to Jim's partially-trained one. "I
believe, Colonel," she finished, "that you would be most useful on the
team going after Thark, Valla, and Kainor, although that will mean
working directly with me. Are you willing to do so?"
"Yes, sir." Emotion was seeping through, despite his shield, and
Corina read two that conflicted strongly. One was a passionate dislike
for her as an individual, but the other was more important to the
Marine: his duty to the Empire, which she as a Ranger had the right to
command.
That fact overrode his personal feelings. He would accompany the
assault team not because she asked it, but because of his own
conviction that it was part of his job as a Marine. In a flash of
insight, Corina realized that Sunbeam had, perhaps without fully
realizing it, given her a very accurate capsule description.
Greggson's work was truly all he had: the Corps was his entire life,
nothing outside had any meaning whatsoever. She found herself pitying
him as she and Medart left with his agreement, on the way to speak with
the rest of the shielded ones.
The group that finally came together in Briefing Room One shortly after
noon to form the assault team was an unlikely one, but the only one
that would have any chance at all. In addition to those they'd first
spoken to, the Rangers had found a nurse, an engineer's assistant, the
ship's junior navigator, and four other Marine officers.
There was noticeable tension in the room when Corina called the
briefing to order. They already knew the basic situation; she could go
directly to the assault itself. "I will be making assignments based
solely on shield strength, as that is the only factor which will slow
the Seniors to any degree. Ranger Medart, Colonel Greggson, and I will
attempt to trace and confront Thark and his two chief lieutenants. I
would like the rest of you to spread throughout the Palace, to find and
eliminate as many of the others as you can. We will remain in touch as
necessary by wrist communicators, which will be issued as soon as we
are finished here.
"I have ordered a disruptor mounted on the lander we will be using.
Lieutenant DarLeras, Ranger Medart tells me you are a pilot; since we
do not have such a specialist, I would like you to fill that position
as well as the combat one you agreed to earlier. Will that cause you
any problem?"
"No, sir. It just means I prep before we leave, rather than during the
trip."
Medart sent Corina a mental wince. *Make sure your restraints are
tight. He took it easy on the way up because it was your first trip;
he wouldn't be concerned about comfort on a combat flight even if he
weren't battleprepped. Since he will be, we're going to have a rough
ride.*
*He is still the only pilot we have, and it will be to our advantage
for him to be prepped. He will have to take our limitations into
consideration, however.*
*He will, since that's good tactics, but that doesn't mean he'll be
gentle, especially if he has to do any dodging. Go on.*
"Unfortunately, Prowler will have to be destroyed to prevent its
weapons from being used against us. Since I expect the crew to remain
aboard, that means they will be killed. The others, Seniors and
Sanctioners, will be in the Palace, and we must expect immediate
opposition when we land."
"What kind of armament does Prowler have?" Greggson asked.
"When I was last aboard, approximately a week ago, it had medium-power
blasters. I believe its shields are standard for that class."
"Nothing a disruptor can't handle, then. It'd take more than a week to
mount heavy weapons."
"He would depend more on speed and secrecy, even so," Corina said. "He
wishes to take over; he will cause no more destruction than he must."
"What about personal weapons?" Nevan asked.
"The Seniors will depend on Talent. Sanctioners, however, have only
limited Talent, as a rule just telepathy and shields, so they use and
are quite familiar with distance weapons. Some have considerable
skill, and those are the ones likeliest to be in Thark's group."
Greggson frowned. "No unTalented at all? I'd hoped we could
supplement our few shielded people with a trained Security team, at
least."
"I do not believe he would take that chance," Corina said. "This is
far too important to him; his attack force will include only his best
people. A Security team would have little chance against even a
Sanctioner's simple telepathy; no action can be taken without at least
a fraction of a second's forethought."
"Damn." Greggson's voice was flat. "That's out, then."
"Hold on," Hobison said. "Emperor Chang?"
"Yes, Captain Hobison?"
"Identify Prowler, Irschchan registry, and give crew/passenger
capacity."
"Prowler, Irschchan registry One-Alpha. Kanchatka-class courier
refitted as a yacht, crew of nine plus pilot. Maximum passenger
capacity thirty humans. Further data?"
"Not required." Hobison turned his attention back to the others in the
room. "Thirty human passengers, so call it about forty-five
Irschchans. And there are twelve of us . . . not very good odds at
all." He paused, frowned. "Worse, if the crew's Talented."
"They are not," Corina said. "They are all Navy veterans; until
myself, Talented went into the Order instead as a matter of course.
However, since Prowler must be destroyed to prevent the use of its
weapons, I do not expect them to be a problem."
"Forty-five effectives, then," Hobison said. "I've faced better odds;
looks like things could get interesting."
"We had best plan on forty-six," Corina corrected. "Thark seldom uses
his assigned pilot; he prefers to do his own flying." She laid her
ears back. "There will be much death because of his Crusade; I would
prefer that we cause as little of it as possible. Set your weapons for
a two-hour stun. Under the circumstances, that should be quite
sufficient; by the end of that time, either Thark will be defeated, the
stunned ones still able to stand trial, or we will all be dead. Are
there any questions?"
"I have one," Greggson said. "You can sense shields at a distance, so
the Seniors can, too. What's to stop them from killing us with darlas
as soon as they sense us?"
"Thark is the only one in the Prime Chapter, to the best of my
knowledge, who is able to use darlas effectively without visual
contact."
"You did it!" Greggson's tone was accusing.
"I am aware of that," Corina said. "I am surprised I was able to; I
made the attempt only because I had more opponents than I had ever
faced in training, and had nothing to lose by trying. The others will
have to be able to see you before they can attack. If we are
fortunate, your shields will all be strong enough to deflect such an
attack for the two or three seconds necessary to stun them. And the
danger from the Sanctioners, who cannot use darlas at all, is purely
physical."
"That's encouraging," Nevan said.
Corina's ears twitched in appreciation of the attempt at humor. "I am
glad you think so. Are there other questions?"
When there were none, she dismissed the meeting, and the two Rangers
returned to Sherwood Forest to continue Medart's training. Corina
began to think she must have an allergy after all, because she sneezed
several times as soon as they entered the park, but she refused
Medart's suggestion that they find a different location. "This area is
most conducive to the proper frame of mind, especially for you. That
is worth some minor irritation, and I see our tree is available; shall
we take advantage of it?"
When they were seated, Medart came straight to the point. "The first
thing, I think, is to find out about what you called reverse darlas."
"As I said, that is not a precise description." Corina's ears went
back in frustration. "It is merely the best I can do in Imperial
English. Or in Irschchan, for that matter."
"It's all we have to work with, though, so let's try to define it a bit
more closely. I can't either practice or avoid something I can't
identify."
"That is true enough. Very well, darlas is a form of attack. Its
reverse would logically be some form of defense, yet that is not the
feeling I get. And it would seem redundant, as well, since your shield
is a more than adequate defense, even now, against all but the
strongest conventional darlas."
"Let's go all the way to basics, then. An attack is hostility, intent
to cause harm. The reverse of that is good will, intent to help. That
sound any more promising?"
"Urrr . . . yes, somewhat, though I have never heard of such an
application of Talent."
"Uh-huh, you said that." Medart leaned back against the treetrunk.
"What you call Talent we call esper abilities, and if I remember right,
one of those was healing. Emperor Chang?"
"Yes, Ranger Medart?"
"Scan records for healing as an aspect of ESP, report on verified
incidents."
"Insufficient data to verify any given incident," the ship-comp
reported after several seconds. "Most data are religious in origin,
rather than scientific. Not subject to positive verification."
"Thank you. No further information required." Medart looked at the
smaller Ranger. "Like telepathy was, until day before yesterday.
Stories, but none of what Greggson likes to call cast-iron facts."
Corina sneezed again, and Medart frowned. "Sounds to me like you're
coming down with something, Rina. Maybe you ought to go see Dr.
Sherman--you need to be in top shape when you go against Thark."
"That is true, and it is more than the sneezing; I woke with a slight
headache this morning, and I feel as if I have been exercising harder
than I should. Your ship is warmer than I truly like, and I have been
under some strain; I attributed those symptoms to that. It is
possible, however that I am becoming ill." She paused, thinking. "If
this aspect of your Talent is connected with health, perhaps you should
see what you can discover about my condition before I go to Dr.
Sherman."
"That sounds reasonable." Medart closed his eyes to concentrate better
on sensing her.
Corina closed hers as well, dropping her shield completely to allow him
unrestricted access to her feelings. His mental touch was gentle, even
soothing, and she felt aching start to ease. Then there was a touch on
her forehead that felt like both his hands, warmer than normal human
body temperature, and all her symptoms faded to nothing in perhaps half
a minute.
When she opened her eyes, it was to see Medart looking at her with an
expression of pleased surprise. "I feel considerably better, Jim, and
I thank you. It appears your deduction was correct."
"You're welcome," Medart said, still grinning. "And they said there'd
never be a cure for the common cold! You were right too, Rina; the
change in environment when you came aboard gave some viruses the chance
they needed. You were in the early stages of a nasty respiratory
infection."
"An unpleasantness that would have hampered me rather badly."
"That's the understatement of the year! Well, if you agree it won't be
too useful, maybe we'd better drop it and get on with the darlas and
shield training. I can always go into medicine later, when we aren't
pushed for time."
"I must agree. Healing will probably be most valuable, but it is
hardly something useful in combat. Fortunately, it is also not a
hindrance."
* * * * *
"No, Jim, no! That was painful, too strong." Corina shook her head,
half in reproof and half to clear her mind. It was getting late, the
training session lasting well beyond what the Order considered
reasonable, but both wanted to keep going as long as possible. Still,
Corina thought, his control was getting worse rather than better; they
should finish up soon, then eat and rest. "That snake image is far too
powerful for a stun effect. You must visualize something else. And
you must also visualize with more consistency, as the power you exert
is directly proportional to the clarity of your image."
"I'm sorry, Rina," Medart apologized. "You were right, though. The
technique was easy, but the control damnsure isn't. Do you think I'll
ever get the hang of it?"
"Of course you will," she replied. "Remember, it took me four years to
reach my present degree of control, but I was being trained by the
traditional methods. It took me a quarter of a year to achieve what
you have managed in two days, with this compressed training. You
should be as pleased with your progress as I am, not discouraged."
"Three months, hmm? Then I guess I don't feel so bad."
"That is good. I only hope we have the four to eight days I estimated,
even as quickly as you are learning. By then you should be able to
consistently come close to the effect you intend, and can begin working
with the volunteers."
"Yeah, me too. I have a lot to learn."
"Do not let it worry you. Despite my studies under Thark himself, I
still do not have the control I should. Ideally I should be able to
stun someone for a given length of time, plus or minus not more than a
minute, regardless of the other's strength or mind pattern. I am not
even close to that; plus or minus three minutes is the best I have been
able to manage."
"That sounds good to me!"
"It is not bad," Corina agreed, "but it is not what I am supposed to be
capable of. That is always the goal, working up to your own
potential."