Chapter 6

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.

After what seemed like an hour, he opened his eyes. "How'm I doing?"

"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.

At that thought, he gave her a sharp look. "How I'm doing what?"

*You have been using telepathy alone for the last few minutes,* Corina sent with a purr. *And you have surpassed your teacher; it was some weeks before I could receive thoughts not specifically directed at me.*

Medart rose and stalked to where she sat still purring with satisfaction, and glared at her, fists on his hips. "You tricked me!" Then he gave her one of his lopsided grins. *But I guess you had to, didn't you?*

*I am afraid so,* Corina agreed, pleased but not surprised by the Ranger's rapid grasp of the situation. "It was the only way I could get past your shield."

"How long?"

"Since that mental picture you had of me curled up in your lap. It relaxed and amused you enough that you dropped your shield to the point where I could get past."