Chapter 2

But enough of these useless memories, Thark told himself sternly. What had happened could not be changed. He should join his passengers. He rose, giving his instrument panel an automatic scan as he rose. Urrr-- the proximity alarm! He'd forgotten to turn it on, a mistake he'd not have made but for Corina's defection. He sat back down and corrected his error, wondering if there were any others he'd made in his chagrin over Corina's betrayal.

* * * * *

Corina was thinking in rapid, frightened bursts as she left Thark's home. She was certain he would lose no time in sending the executioners after her, probably Sanctioners. She was not particularly optimistic about making it safely to the Planetary Palace and the Imperial authorities.

Thark's home was ten kilometers north of the capital city, MacLeod's Landing. It would be a long, time-consuming walk, but what choice did she have? With Sanctioners on her trail, using her identification to call for public transportation at one of the hailing posts would be a fatal mistake.

The occasional clumps of bushes bordering the street's short-cropped grass gave her an idea. She was fairly conspicuous; there were few pedestrians this far from the city, and as Thark had told her often enough, she did dress rather gaudily. She made her way into one of the clumps, took off her kilt, turned it inside-out, and put it back on. It was a youngling's trick, but . . . She surveyed the results. Not good, she decided. Still, it might help; at least the solid maroon lining was a little less gaudy than red and gold plaid.

She returned to the street, glad for the soft grass that had replaced pavement when null-grav craft came into common use, and resumed her walk toward the city. As small as MacLeod's Landing was by human standards, it was already large by Irschchan, and still growing. If she made it that far, there was at least a chance she could avoid the Sanctioners in the crowds, and reach the Palace.

She had been walking for perhaps five minutes when a Sanctioner patrol cruiser sped past her, toward Thark's home. The wind of its passage ruffled her fur as well as her kilt, but they seemed to pay no attention to her, for which she was grateful.

Still, it was what she had hoped. If she were obvious enough, the Sanctioners should think she had nothing to hide. Between that and her kilt-flipping, unless she ran into a Sanctioner who knew her well enough to identify her by the pattern of her mind-shield, she might make it.

Bare minutes later, though, her hopes fell as she heard the patrol cruiser approaching again. It stopped in front of her and three gray-kilted Sanctioners got out.

Besides the usual sporran and soul-blade everyone carried, the Sanctioners wore their collars of office, gleaming gold bands snug at their throats. And their blasters, normally worn on belt clips, were all pointed in her direction. Pitting around the muzzles showed Corina, as if she had needed the confirmation, that the weapons had all seen use.

She made her body relax. These Sanctioners were big, and they were treating her as cautiously as they would a dangerous criminal. From the Order's point of view, though, that was now an accurate description.

"All right, Losinj," the oldest one said. "Hands on your head, and do not move."

Corina obeyed, moving slowly to give herself time to think. These three would have tight mind-shields, and anyway, the most she had been able to handle in practice was two--which Thark, of course knew. She was in no position to fight. Her only chance was to get them to relax, drop their shields voluntarily. Unless they were simply going to kill her here . . .

Which they were apparently not going to do. Two stood back, perhaps three meters from her and an equal distance from each other, their blasters steady on target. The leader, staying carefully out of their lines of fire, approached her. He unclipped the soul-blade, sheath and all, from her belt and attached it to his own.

"It will be returned intact to your family for their Hall of Memories after your execution, as Senior Valla has ordered," he told her.

"My thanks to Senior Valla," Corina said, her voice shaky. So Thark had turned her case over to Valla. That wasn't good news at all. She knew Valla well, had in fact gotten much training from her, and they were friends, though not close ones. But Valla didn't let friendship interfere with her work, and she had a well-earned reputation for thoroughness and efficiency. At least, Corina thought, Valla did not dishonor her by ordering her blade broken.

The Sanctioner moved behind her. "Put your hands down, behind your back."

She obeyed, felt cool metallic bands close around her wrists. The Sanctioner took hold of her arm just above the elbow.

"Into the cruiser, youngling."

She got in, was seated between him and another Sanctioner, both with blasters aimed at her. The third took his place at the controls, heading them toward MacLeod's Landing and Sanctioner headquarters. She put her sort-of-a-plan into action; as uncertain as it was, she had been unable to think of anything else.

Huddling up, she let her mind-shield relax slightly. As the cruiser picked up speed, she felt one of the Sanctioners try a probe. Don't fight it, she told herself, use it. Sanctioners were Talented, of course, but they didn't have the training or control she had gotten from Thark. They shouldn't be able to detect her attempt at deception.

She shivered, letting the shield drop even further and allowing her fear, only partially falsified, to seep through. If she could convince them she was terrified, too paralyzed with panic to be a danger, she might have a chance.

The Sanctioner leader looked at her for a moment, then said, with some sympathy, "You seem harmless enough, hardly a dangerous criminal. Why does Senior Valla want you dead, youngling?"

"I do not know," Corina lied, projecting more fright. "I mean . . . I have done nothing . . ." She let her voice trail off.

"Urrr, there is no need to worry," the officer said, apparently trying to reassure her. "The executioner here is good. He will give you a swift death, and it will be one with honor; she has ordered you killed with darlas."

It didn't reassure Corina, and she let that show in her expression. She looked up at the Sanctioner leader, shivering again. "But . . . I don't want to die! I have done nothing to die for!"

"Youngling, it is not for me to question Senior Valla's orders, but I admit I do no like this assignment. My own girl-child is about your age."

"Then--" Sudden hope dawned.

"No, youngling." The Sanctioner's voice was full of pity, but remained firm. "My honor lies in my duty, and that duty requires me to take you in."

Corina slumped, fear and a sense of hopelessness seeming worse after that surge of false hope. Her shield was almost all the way down. She dared not probe at the Sanctioners to see if they believed her; somehow that did not seem to be the sort of thing a frightened prisoner would do. She could only hope her plan was working, but the closer they got to the city and Sanctioner headquarters, the less confidence she had in it.

The trip ended in deep silence. By the time they pulled up in front of the large stone building that housed the capital's Sanctioners, Corina was on the ragged edge of desperation. It must have appeared more like sheer terror to the officer beside her, because he dismissed the other two. "Go on in. She will give me no trouble; she is too afraid."

They obeyed. As they entered the building, the leader climbed out of the cruiser, clipped his blaster to his belt, and extended a hand to help his trembling prisoner.

That was when Corina struck. He had relaxed his shield slightly, thinking her powerless, and she had no trouble stunning him with darlas. Awkwardly, hampered by the way her hands were fastened and by her need for haste, she dug through his sporran for the handcuff key and fumbled it into the lock. The cuffs opened after what seemed hours, but could have been only seconds. Then she retrieved her soul-blade from his belt, half tempted to use it on him. She refrained; he had pitied her, and the killing would not be justified. Self-defense was commendable, but she could not kill one who was unable to defend himself. She did, however, increase the mental pressure on him enough to insure he would remain unconscious for at least an hour. Then she sensed one of the other Sanctioners returning, wondering idly what was keeping Garal and the prisoner.

She straightened and left at a fast walk, was around the corner and out of sight before he spotted Garal's unconscious form. She tightened her shield, feeling probes as the Sanctioner alerted the others. Although she knew it would make her conspicuous, she broke into a run. She had to reach the park that encircled the Planetary Palace before the Sanctioners caught her again. That was Imperial territory; Irschchan jurisdiction ended at the park's edge. She just hoped that legality would stop the Sanctioner.

The park was in sight, less than a hundred meters away, but the Sanctioner who had found Garal was fast closing the distance between them. Corina risked a quick glance back, saw him stop, crouch, and draw his blaster. She increased her speed somehow and started dodging. It might take her a few seconds longer to reach the park, but she would be harder to hit.

She heard the frying noise of the blaster, felt heat as the bolt singed fur on her right arm. A second shot missed completely as she dove into the park and rolled into a stand of purple-leafed bushes. A third bolt went overhead, then the Sanctioner returned the blaster to his belt and called to her.

"You have made it to Imperial territory, Losinj, but you are not safe yet! Even if you manage to get past Entos and into the Palace, we can have you extradited as a common criminal, for assaulting a Sanctioner. Think about that!"

"Thank you for the information," Corina called back, shaken but not, she hoped, letting it show in her voice. Entos! Valla must have anticipated her escape from the Sanctioners, Corina thought, if she had sent her best killer to attempt an intercept in the park itself.

Then she realized that wasn't necessarily the case; more likely it was only Valla's thoroughness, her reluctance to leave anything she thought important to only one group. Still, using Entos against a student showed her how seriously Valla regarded this; it was rather like using a blaster to eliminate an annoying insect.

There was no point in being particularly cautious, she knew, so she hurried directly toward the Palace. She had met Entos several times, often enough that he knew her both by sight and by mind pattern, even when she was shielded.

She was almost at her objective--in sight of the main entrance, in fact--when the anticipated attack came. It started with a savage mental thrust, powerful enough to penetrate her shield and drive her to her knees. It didn't last; only Thark or another member of the Prime Chapter, which Entos wasn't, could maintain that level of intensity for long. But by the time she had recovered enough to stand, shaking her head to clear it, Entos was behind her. She sensed a physical threat, lunged to her left just in time to feel his dagger brush her fur rather than bury itself in her back.

She scrambled to her feet, drawing her own blade and attempting a mental counterattack. It slowed Entos' next slash, but had no other effect. She stabbed at his upper arm, trying to cripple him, but he parried skillfully.

"You fight well, youngling, even now," he said, then tried another intense mental thrust. It was less powerful than the first had been, and Corina managed to block it, though she was less successful parrying his simultaneous dagger thrust at her throat. She did avoid most, but it was enough to draw blood; she felt warmth seeping into the fur at the base of her neck.

Corina didn't reply, saving her breath for the fight. They were circling now, both looking for openings, when she saw a flicker of motion from the direction of the Palace entrance. She risked a quick glance, saw it was the Imperial Marine guards running toward them and drawing sidearms.

Entos obviously saw them as well, because he snarled and struck for her again. She was starting to parry when the Marines fired, and both Irschchans fell.

* * * * *

Thark finally came to the conclusion that if he had made any other errors in his chagrin, he couldn't remember them. And Prowler didn't need him, while it would probably be wise to brief his chief aides fully on Corina's defection, even though it was a strong probability she was dead by this time. He made his way to the ship's lounge, thinking about the mistakes he had made with her--mistakes that would have to be avoided in the future with others who had been taught in Imperial schools.

The lounge was small--Kanchatka-class vessels had originally been intended as couriers, not yachts--but it was quite comfortable, with deep-pile carpeting, and a large viewscreen now displaying a sunset landscape Valla was fond of. She and Kainor started to rise as Thark entered, but settled back at his gesture.

He paused at the service panel to dial three glasses of koril, the fermented milk Irschchans drank as humans drank wine. Carrying them, he joined his aides, seating himself on the third pile of cushions at the lounge's low table.

After the first silent, companionable sips, Thark began filling the other two in. It wasn't easy for any of them, though an outsider would have thought them discussing abstractions. Only Thark himself had been truly close to Corina, but Kainor and Valla had known and liked her for the four years since her Talent was discovered; her betrayal hurt.

When Thark was finished, Valla detailed the steps she'd taken to insure the traitor's death, for Kainor's benefit. That brought a trace of amusement to his voice. "Three Sanctioners, Valla? And Entos? I should think either more than adequate to deal with her."

"Either should be," Valla agreed, "but you know I like to take precautions, especially when it is so little trouble. Should she by some stroke of luck escape the Sanctioners, she will not escape Entos."

"True," Thark said. It was unfortunate, he thought, that it had seemed desirable to impose a communications blackout, including telepathy, except in a major emergency or by messenger, but at present security was more important than convenience--however good it would be to be able to make definite, rather than tentative, plans. Facts must be accepted, though; they had insufficient data, so they simply had to make do with what they did have. "Even so, we do not yet have confirmation. I think we must plan for the possibility, remote as it is, that she did escape both and make it to the Palace. If the Imperials are informed of even as little as she got from me, it could hinder us."

"If you plan for that," Kainor said, "you will also have to assume a Ranger will be involved within minutes, or at most hours."

"What--" "A Ranger!" Valla and Thark exclaimed as one.

"Yes. Ranger James Medart arrived yesterday aboard the battle cruiser Emperor Chang, and took a lander down to the Colvis Reserve."

"Why was I not informed?" Thark asked, forcing his voice to remain steady. A Ranger's interference, especially this early, could be disastrous!

"Ranger Medart's orders, Master. He is on convalescent leave, recuperating from the injuries he sustained just prior to the end of the war. He did not wish to be bothered by official functions."

"If he is injured," Thark said thoughtfully, "he should be no problem to eliminate."

"I said he is recuperating," Kainor corrected. "I understand he is still weak, but otherwise he is healthy enough. It is unlikely to affect him except to slow him in personal combat."

"And Rangers do not fight unless it cannot be avoided," Valla said. "Does he have anyone with him?"

"I was not told, but most probably he does. Since this is a peaceful world and the Reserve is a resort area, I would assume him to be accompanied by a token bodyguard--perhaps two to four Marines, not enough to stop a determined killer."

"True," Valla agreed. "Entos again, then, with four Sanctioners. The Sanctioners have enough Talent to take out two Marines each, so even if our estimate is low, they should have no difficulty. And whether Medart fights or not, Entos will be able to give him a swift death."

Kainor nodded. "After all, it is not their combat abilities that make them so valuable to the Empire, even though Menshikov is the Empire's greatest strategist. It is their personalities and the way they think."

"Yes," Thark said. "That much everyone knows. But exactly what is it about their personalities and thinking? What is so unusual about them that there are only ten Rangers, and none of those Irschchans?"

"Nine, since Tarlac's assassination," Kainor reminded him. His ears went back in a slight frown. "Despite my investigations since the Crusade was decided on, I have not been able to discover the actual selection criteria. All I can tell you is what I have been able to deduce from studying them and their accomplishments, and that certainly cannot be taken as conclusive."

"Go ahead," Thark told him. "I know you dislike making incomplete evaluations, but there is no more time to complete that project. An incomplete evaluation is better than none at all, you must agree."

"I do--but keep in mind that it is incomplete." Kainor shifted on his cushions, then continued.

"First, their selection is based on a combination of factors, not a single isolated characteristic. Genius-level intelligence is of course part of it, along with a generalist's wide range of interests and abilities, and greater adaptability than normally appears even in spacers. They are also able to analyze situations, develop a solution that seems improbable or impossible, and make it work--usually if not always to the Empire's benefit."

"I have had little opportunity to study them," Valla said. "Could you be more specific?"

"Easily," Kainor replied. "And Medart is a classic example, so I will use him. Among his other accomplishments, he was responsible for both the successful human-Irschchan settlement of Ondrian and the end of the Sandeman Incursion in Sector Five, which resulted in Subsector Sandeman's joining the Empire."

"Which in turn led to a high percentage of their warriors in the Imperial military or serving as contract police forces on various worlds," Thark said. "Extremely loyal military or police--but they are Elnar's problem. Continue."

"Yes, Master. Valla, do you remember anything about either incident?"

"Almost nothing," Valla admitted. "Until recently, I had very little interest in Imperial news."

"And I would appreciate hearing about both with the information you have that Imperial newscasts probably left out because humans would take it as a given," Thark said.

Kainor sighed, something a number of Irschchans had picked up since meeting humans. "Very well. The Ondrian situation, then. During the second year of the joint colony's existence, an Irschchan youngling was exploring in the mountains alone, contrary to all colony rules. He vanished, and search parties found no trace of him. He was presumed dead after a standard week, due to the bitterly cold weather.

"It surprised everyone, to put it mildly, when he showed up in excellent health a month after the search was abandoned. That was not all. He had one of the mountain cloudcats with him, and thanks to his Talent--so minimal the Order had not accepted him, but there--he had managed to establish communications with her. Very rudimentary ones, to be sure, but quite adequate to establish their intelligence.

"That was a severe blow to the colony. With the cloudcats proven to be intelligent, Imperial law required that the colony be abandoned. However, it is the only place that so-called 'miracle weed' can be grown successfully. It could not be obtained by trading, because the cloudcats have no hands and no interest in farming. Since miracle-weed is the only source of several valuable pharmaceuticals including rapid-heal, the Emperor sent Medart in to see if anything could be salvaged.

"He somehow got the idea that the cloudcats originated in a warmer climate than Ondrian's. Nobody believed it, of course; geological studies done when it was first discovered showed Ondrian's climate had never varied enough to produce such an evolutionary difference. And with their lack of hands, they could not possibly have built spaceships to bring them from another planet.

"It turned out, of course, that Medart was absolutely correct. The cloudcats--or perhaps I should say our young explorer's friend Starflower--had learned to understand English, and could indicate a yes or no answer to questions. Medart talked to Starflower for several days, and found out that they were in fact not only from a different planet, but from a different system entirely.

"They had been transported to Ondrian more than ten thousand years ago by beings they called simply the Others, who had discovered the cloudcats' sun was about to go nova. The cats elected to stay in the same stellar neighborhood, but according to them the Others were preparing to embark on a racial expedition of their own, one of considerable magnitude. From what Starflower told Medart, it seems they left this galaxy entirely.

"Medart went back into the mountains with Starflower, remaining there for two weeks. When he returned, he had somehow gotten the cloudcats to agree to let the colonists have free run of the equatorial zone, though they must stay out of the mountains unless they are invited. In return, he gave the cats the right to travel on Imperial Navy ships at any time. So the Empire got its pharmaceuticals, and the cloudcats seem more than pleased with the opportunity to indulge their curiosity. A most economical solution, though I regret he did not see fit to release the details of his negotiations."

Kainor rose and went to the service panel, returning with more koril for each of them. He handed out the glasses, sat back down, and took a deep swallow before continuing. "It is possible someone else could have accomplished the same thing, as it is possible someone else could have accomplished most things Rangers have. They are mortals, after all. With one of them, however, if a problem is soluble, it will be solved."

"And solved, as you say, to the Empire's benefit," Thark said. "But you give Medart credit for ending the Sandeman Incursion; I understood it took five Rangers."

Kainor's ears twitched in amusement. "Five were there, yes--but the other four were part of Medart's solution, to give the Sandemans an honorable reason to stop fighting rather than be annihilated. Much of this episode is either public record or not difficult to discover, though parts are still obscure.

"Medart was not sent in until the Duke of Sector Five admitted her inability to stop the Sandemans and requested Imperial assistance. Medart took a fleet to the one world the Sandemans had made a protectorate rather than conquering, stopping long enough en route to capture several for study." Kainor paused briefly. "You do know about the genetic engineering that was done to create the Sandemans, particularly their warriors?"

Both his listeners nodded.

"Good--but at the time, no one except the Sandemans themselves knew, and they had no intention of divulging that information, especially the weakness the engineers had intended as a control mechanism. They refused to cooperate, preferring to die of that weakness rather than reveal to the enemy the ways they needed to use to live with it.