Chapter 7

"Well, I'll . . . be . . . damned," Medart said, half in admiration and half in wonder. "I never felt a thing."

"You were not supposed to," Corina said calmly. "If you had, the procedure would have been a failure."

"Can I work it on humans? Did you find anything else?"

"I know of no reason you could not. In fact, you should find it easier with other humans than with me, because the basic mind pattern ought to be more similar. As for your other question, you do have much potential; it remains to be seen if you can develop it. Your mind shield can be made stronger with practice, and there is unusually powerful darlas latent. I sensed no traces of the other usual Talents."

She paused, then continued, puzzled. "There is also something else, but I cannot be sure what it is. I have never before sensed such an aspect of Talent. Even describing it vaguely is difficult." She paused again, laying her ears back in a frown. "The closest I can come would be to call it a sort of darlas in reverse, but that is almost pathetically inadequate."

Medart could feel her puzzlement changing to amusement, echoed it with some of his own when she sent, *And Thark believes humans are unTalented! Undeveloped and untrained, most certainly, but hardly unTalented. You have not bred for it, even as indirectly as we have, so the percentage of Talented humans is probably much lower than it is for Irschchans, but--*

*--we're hardly the total incompetents he thinks we are,* Medart finished.

"True. However, he does not know that and would not be convinced merely by being told, even if we knew his location and were able to communicate with him; his beliefs, once established, require overwhelming proof to be changed." Her ears twitched. "I have thought about contacting him telepathically, but even if he were to accept my mind-touch, which I am certain he would not, he no longer trusts me enough to believe my unsupported word."

"I'm afraid you're right," Medart agreed. "There's not going to be any easy way to end this Crusade of his. I'm just hoping the information you've already given us, and the help you're still going to give, will let us stop it without too much bloodshed."

"I hope so, as well," Corina said, her tone as serious as his. "Irschchan culture was quite chaotic and warlike at one time, but the Order was a civilizing influence, and the idea of unnecessary bloodshed has become quite unpleasant."

"Civilizing influence? I suppose so," Medart said with less than total agreement. "It did cut down on warfare, which is a major benefit--but I still say it caused stagnation, too. Your progress slowed from faster than ours to almost nothing after the Order took over, in the name of stability. Even slower than the Traiti, and for them gradual progress is the norm. It took you fifteen hundred years to go from a crude aircraft to just a system-capable spacecraft--it took Terra less than a hundred."

"That was fortunate for you," Corina said with a touch of pique. "Otherwise Terra would be an Irschchan subject world rather than the center of a growing Empire." Then her tone grew softer. "But I was raised an Imperial citizen, and I am glad of it. If the Academy accepts me, I will be able to travel, always finding out new things . . . meeting people of all races and species . . ."

Her voice trailed off, and Medart was struck by the sudden enthusiasm and warmth replacing her normal controlled formality. No, he mused, she'd never be happy in a society as static as Irschcha's, even as a member of its ruling elite.

She was quiet now, gazing wide-eyed into nowhere, and Medart decided to try his new ability. He sent a faint, wordlessly-questing thought at her, and was rewarded with a mental image she had of herself. She was clad in Imperial Navy service blue with an ensign's stripe, standing on the bridge of a ship. The vessel appeared to be much smaller than the Chang, and it was highly imaginative--didn't correspond to any actual class--but he got the feeling it might be a courier or perhaps a scout.

He withdrew, letting the picture fade from his mind. So that was her dream. She could achieve it easily with her ability, of course, and more . . . yet what a waste it would be. Anything short of the Rangers would be a waste as far as she was concerned, but he knew he couldn't force her into that decision. There were compensations, sure, but it was still a tough job, one that had to be taken on willingly. He could and would use all his powers of persuasion; he could not and would not use any form of coercion.

He'd been turned down once before, which had been disappointing--but Corina's refusal would be worse. He wanted to make her accept the Empire's need of her, its desperate urgency to make the best possible use of such outstanding minds--especially, now, a non-human's. Linda Ellman might have found it easier to persuade the young Irschchan, he thought. She'd said Steve Tarlac had had a similar lack of self-confidence when she'd recruited him. But that was nothing but idle dreaming; this was up to him, not to Linda.

He shrugged, then said, "Sir Corina?"

She shivered slightly, returning to reality. "Yes, Ranger?"

"It's almost noon. Why don't I call Sunbeam, then you two have lunch and get her to show you the ship? I have some work to do, and if you're planning on going to the Academy you'll want to know all you can about the Navy."

"Yes, I think I should. Personal experience is far superior to mere study. But you need to rest, give your undermind a chance to adjust to the idea of telepathy. Your overmind accepts it now; the undermind is normally slower to accept change."

"I can't really rest," Medart said slowly. "I don't have the time. I can work on something that won't take too much thinking, though. Good enough?"

"I suppose it will have to be, though true rest is better." While Medart called Sunbeam, Corina thought. Her former teacher meant well, she was sure, had turned traitor out of conviction that it was necessary and not for gain . . . yet the thing which had made him think the humans unfit for rule, their lack of Talent, was not the case. How would he take it when he could finally be convinced of his error? Would he do as honor demanded, or would he continue his treason?

"We'll find out when it comes to that, won't we?" Medart responded. "This works between us; I'd like to try it on Sunbeam, make sure it really does work for me with humans."

Fascinating that he could read her undirected thoughts while doing something totally unconnected, Corina mused. She could prevent that by shielding, of course, but it was her first experience with it, and she preferred not to. Such contact was not unusual between Talented family members or extremely close friends, but Medart was neither, and she had not found herself reading him that way.

"Maybe you know you shouldn't be able to, so you can't, but I don't, so I can?"

Corina purred, wishing she could laugh. "That is as reasonable an explanation as we are likely to get, I would say. But I am not sure I can approve of you attempting to read Sunbeam. It is honorable to probe the unTalented only when truly necessary, since they cannot defend themselves--and you do not know your own strength; if you should accidentally use darlas against her, she could be seriously hurt."

"I don't want to hurt her, of course," Medart said, "but I think this is necessary. I need to know all I can about Talent, especially yours and mine--and so far you're the only one I've read."

"That is true." Corina thought for a moment, then nodded. "I can monitor, and if you should begin using darlas, protect her. It is a risk, but in this case justifiable."

The door signal chimed, and Corina called, "Come in, Sunbeam."

"Ready for lunch, Sir Corina?" the small ensign asked as she entered. "I sure am!"

"In a moment, Sunbeam," Corina replied. *Try now, Ranger, while I speak to her.*

*You can talk and still monitor?*

*If you can read me while thinking of something else, why not?* Corina continued aloud, to Sunbeam. "Did you get to finish your xenology tape?"

"I sure did," was the enthusiastic reply. "It was fascinating, too--I may take a full course on it, and who knows? I may decide to switch to Sciences instead of staying a Line officer. I just wish there were some way I could do both--there's so much to learn, and so much to do!"

Corina purred. "Perhaps there is, or could be. I do not see the two desires as exclusive; perhaps Ranger Medart can investigate a combined Line/Science section."

"Not a bad idea," Medart said. "I'll have the Navy look into it, and if there aren't any major problems, ask His Majesty to implement it."

"Great!" Sunbeam exclaimed. "Would you like to borrow the tape, Sir Corina? I think you'd enjoy it, and if you're going to the Academy it might help you pick one of your specialties."

"I would appreciate that. I do expect some difficulty in choosing those; I have found so few things that do not interest me that I will probably need considerable help finding three or four to concentrate on."

Then Corina felt the Ranger's thought. *No trouble, she's not even screened. But it seemed somehow harder with her than with you, not easier. Any idea why?*

*Not immediately, no,* Corina replied, puzzled. *As I said earlier, it should be the other way around. Let me think about it, please.*

*Okay.* Medart continued aloud, to both. "Well, why not go eat? Then give her the grand tour, Sunbeam, anything she wants to see. Just have her at Briefing Room One by 1600."

"Yes, sir."

VI

Lunch was good, and the tour was interesting, if tiring. The ship had more machinery of more differing types than Corina had ever seen in one place before, and they covered a lot of territory. Despite extensive use of the intraship shuttles, that meant a lot of walking. Normally that would have caused Corina no problems, but hard metal decks instead of grass or rubberoid sidewalks made her feet hurt. That made their arrival at the Security section a relief, since Sunbeam had promised it would be their last stop.

It was obvious to Corina that Colonel Greggson wasn't particularly glad to see them, but he was polite, clearly on his best behavior--until Major Dawson entered.

"Good afternoon, Sir Corina," Dawson said with a grin. "That's quite a wallop you pack--almost like getting hit by a Traiti. I don't suppose you could teach me how to do it?"

"I am afraid not," Corina replied, remembering their earlier meetings and his weak screen. "You simply do not have the right mental pattern."

"Oh." Dawson looked disappointed for a moment, then shrugged. "Well, I never could sing, either."

"I am sorry. But at least Lieutenant DarLeras told me you would not be shamed by what happened in the exercise."

"Not at all," Dawson said cheerfully. "We got a little teasing, of course, but that's no problem any more. I just reminded a couple of the more persistent kidders why we'd been picked for SecuDiv in the first place."

"Oh? May I ask how?" Corina could have probed, but satisfying her curiosity wasn't a valid reason for using Talent against one who had none.

"Telepathy's part of your Talent; why not take a look?"

"Thank you." Invited, there was no breach of honor, so Corina scanned him. From his point of view, she saw him working out in a gym with a couple of his kidders. Either of the two, from their relative sizes, should have been able to defeat Dawson--but that wasn't the case. Using close-combat techniques distilled from the most effective of Terra's many martial arts, he had both "disabled" or "killed" in less than thirty seconds.

"Elegant!" she said in real admiration. "I should get you to teach me instead."

"Telepathy?" Sunbeam asked in amazement. "I heard, but I didn't really believe--"

"Yes, dammit, telepathy!" Greggson snapped. "That's how she managed to humiliate my men!"

"I do not understand your anger," Corina said quietly. "It was simply a demonstration of Talent, the way it can be used against the unTalented, as Thark plans to do. I did not intend to humiliate anyone, and they have said they do not feel humiliated."

"Damn your intentions!" Greggson rasped. "No oversized kitty is going to make fools of my men and get away with it!"

"Hey, Colonel," Dawson said, "it's okay, we--"

Greggson glared at him. "Keep out of this, Major. Get back to your post. And keep your mouth shut."

"As the Colonel orders," Dawson said with icy correctness, and left.

"That goes for you, too, Ensign. Wait outside."

"But I'm supposed to--" Sunbeam objected.

"Wait outside."

Sunbeam hesitated, looked at Corina. "Sir Corina--"

"Go ahead. I will be fine."

The young ensign left, but her hesitation seemed to inflame Greggson still further. "You don't give orders aboard this ship, Sir Corina," he said coldly. "Not even if you are Ranger Medart's special assistant. You have no military authority."

"I merely reassured Ensign Yamata of my welfare," Corina retorted, controlling her own anger. "Ranger Medart did assign her to me; from what I have read, that places her under my command, despite my lack of military rank. She is a most conscientious officer, and--"

She fell silent when Greggson stepped toward her, his right hand closing into a fist. Surely he would not strike her . . . but he was angry, and a Marine, and shielded-- Her hand, seemingly of its own volition, went to the hilt of her soul-blade as she felt a surge of fear.

"No." Greggson shook his head, backed off a step with visible reluctance. "I won't give you the satisfaction, you little--"

Corina interrupted, fear suddenly overcome by exasperation. "It is not your men's pride that concerns you, Colonel; they felt no shame, as they should not. It is your own. You ought to be pleased to have accurate knowledge of your enemy's abilities. Should I have let your men defeat me, merely to save your pride, then allow them to go against Thark believing him to be as easy a target? I merely stunned them; he will be trying to kill them."

She turned and stalked out under Greggson's furious glare, shaking inwardly at her defiance of him despite its necessity. What was it about her that made him loathe her so? She was not human, granted, but that seemed too minor a reason for such disturbance. It was out of proportion for him to take offense at her very existence. That made his presence discomforting, and it was a definite relief to walk through the door and rejoin Sunbeam.

"He really hates you, Sir Corina," Sunbeam said as they left the Security area. "It isn't just not liking you any more. He's awfully proud of his work--I think it's all he has--and it looks like he took your demonstration personally." The young ensign was clearly worried. "He may try to cause you serious trouble. I ought to tell Ranger Medart."

"I see no need to bother him with it," Corina said. "I appreciate your concern, but I believe you worry too much. Colonel Greggson knows my status here; he will not harm me."

She didn't have to probe to feel Sunbeam's doubt, but all her escort said was, "You're probably right." Then Sunbeam glanced at her chrono. "Uh-oh, better get you to the briefing room; it's 1545 already!"

They arrived at Briefing Room One with a few minutes to spare, and Sunbeam left while Corina entered. She was looking forward to the meeting, if only for the chance to sit down and rest her feet.

The briefing room, she saw at once, had been completely rearranged. The standard conference table and the holo stage were gone, replaced by a semi-circular table. Its flat side had been put against the wall, just under a screen that was normally used to display graphic aids. Chairs lined the curved edge, already occupied by the officers who had been at the earlier meeting. Greggson had somehow arrived before her, and was seated two places to Medart's left. The Ranger was in the middle of the semi-circle, one empty chair at his right. He motioned Corina to it, then stood and called the group to attention as the screen flickered with scrambler blue, and cleared.

Corina recognized both men on the screen at once, from innumerable photos and holograms. The one on the right, in civilian clothes, was Emperor Charles Davis. He looked rather tired, she thought, but between the Traiti War and Thark's Crusade, she thought, he had every reason to be fatigued.

The one on the left, in Ranger uniform, was Crown Prince Rick Forrest. He didn't look quite as tired, she thought, but there was still strain on his face.

"As you were," the Emperor said. The conferees sat, and Davis continued. "This is a war council, not an Audience, so we'll skip the ceremony and get to work. Sir Corina, you have the Empire's thanks for your courageous and timely warning. Can you give us any further idea of when this rebellion will start, or where?"

Corina took a deep mental breath, feeling badly out of her depth. "Not with any degree of certainty, Your Majesty."

"Any guesses?" Forrest asked.

"Guesses? Yes, sir. If Thark reacts as usual, I would expect the Order to strike as soon as possible, perhaps within five or ten days. He tends, as he admits, to be somewhat impatient, and that will be even more true since his treason has been revealed before he was ready. The location is more difficult, since the Order will undoubtedly have multiple targets. He himself will take the center of power, of course--"

"He'd try for the Palace?" Davis interrupted. "He'd know better than that. It's much too heavily defended, especially after Tarlac's assassination."

Blades! Corina thought nervously. How to contradict the Emperor? Not easily, not if you were a youngling with a strong desire to crawl under the table and hide! Being teased about arguing with him was one thing, actually having to do it something far different. She had no choice, though. "Its guards, however numerous, are humans and unTalented Irschchans, perhaps a few Traiti. They will be little or no defense against Thark and the Seniors of the Prime Chapter, even if some few have mind-screens or shields. Nor can you count on mechanical defenses; they are operated by your Palace Guard, which renders them as vulnerable as the guards themselves. If compelling a Guardswen is not possible, controls can be operated by TK."

Davis frowned, while Medart sent her encouragement. *Good going. He won't bite you. And don't think about hiding under the table; you're doing fine.*

*I think otherwise,* she sent back, though she was grateful for his support. *I am frightened!*

*So?* Medart replied. *You're functioning just fine anyway.*

"Aren't you perhaps overestimating their abilities?" the Emperor asked quietly.

"No, sir, she's not," Medart answered for her. "You saw the tape of yesterday's demonstration; if a young student could take out this ship's top five Security people, including a mind-shielded Sandeman warrior, I find it very easy to believe that a group, all of whom have the degree of experienced Talent she describes, could take even the Palace. She says her Talent is above average, but so are theirs."

"How would you rate them by comparison, Sir Corina?" Forrest asked.

"Thark is stronger, of course; the High Adept, by definition, has the strongest Talent in the Order. The Seniors have approximately my strength, but are better trained since they were raised in Order schools and I was not. They also have far more experience than I do, as Ranger Medart pointed out."

"You're the only expert we have on the Order," Davis said. "How would you recommend we defend the Palace?"

"As it stands, Your Majesty, the Palace cannot be defended from such an attack." Corina hesitated, unwilling to go on.

*Finish it,* Medart urged her.

*They will not like it,* Corina thought nervously, but she said, "My recommendation, under these circumstances, is that Your Majesty and Prince Forrest leave Terra in a ship crewed fully by humans, its destination unknown to anyone not aboard, and remain there until Thark and the Order are no longer a threat."

A murmur around the conference table was disapproving.

"I don't like the idea of running," the Emperor said, "but I can't deny it's the logical thing to do. Ranger Medart?"

"How sure are you that it'll be Thark himself and the Prime Chapter after the Palace?" Medart asked Corina.

"I am positive," she said. "He will not risk failure by using less than the best against his most important target."

Medart nodded, then returned his attention to the screen. "In that case, I'd say to follow her recommendation, sir. Your safety's a lot more important than the Palace Complex--and if he does move against the Palace itself, we'll have unarguable proof of his and the Order's treason."

"Very well." Davis didn't look happy, Corina thought, but he did look decisive. "We will leave on the Empress Lindner as soon as this conference is over, then. Kennard and Menshikov are here; I'll leave them in charge. Anything else?"

"Leaving them will place them at hazard, sire," Corina ventured.

"I'm aware of that," Davis said. "I'd prefer not to, but there are other things I have to consider. The Sovereign is prohibited from risking @'s life if there's any choice, and the Successor should not except in a critical emergency when no other Ranger is available, so Rick and I are expected to think of our own safety first. But--give me your opinion as an ordinary citizen, Sir Corina. How would you feel if all four of us fled to safety, leaving the Palace Guards to face a rebellion alone?"

Corina thought about that, then inclined her head. "I see, Your Majesty. While it would be the sensible thing to do, it would give the impression of not caring about those who serve you."

"Which is precisely why they'll be staying. Ranger Medart, you look like you have something on your mind."

"Yes, sir." Medart looked up, at nothing in particular. "Unless they're intercepted and destroyed, which isn't very likely," he said quietly, "someone is going to have to face Thark and the Seniors. Sir Corina says the Guards won't have a chance, and Kennard and Menshikov are no more qualified to do it than I am."

Corina suddenly felt completely exposed and completely alone. At his words, everyone except Medart himself had turned to stare at her.

"No!" She shook her head, keeping herself from yowling by sheer force of will. "I cannot--I am not good enough--"

"Wrong," Davis said. "I'd hoped Ranger Medart could persuade you, but he obviously hasn't been able to; may I ask why?"

"I have just said, sire. I will do everything I can to help--I am doing it--but I am not qualified for that."

Davis shook his head. "You're the only one who has even a chance against Thark, and you're as qualified as any of the rest of us to be a Ranger--maybe more so, as Ranger Medart told me, with that Talent of yours. None of us asked for this job, and none of us felt capable of handling it at first. You can do what we cannot. Will you face Thark for us, as a Ranger?"

Corina remained silent, overwhelmed by his intensity.

"Let me," Medart said quietly. "Corina, you came to us originally because your honor--the part of it we call loyalty--demanded it. It wouldn't let you permit Thark to destroy the Empire. Right?"

"Yes." Her answer was almost inaudible.

"Will that same honor let you stop now, when you know you're the only chance the Empire has?" That might be putting it a bit strongly, Medart thought--but after her demonstration, it might also be the precise truth.

She stared down at the table for what seemed like eons before she was able to answer. "No."

Looking up, she continued. "You are correct. I will face Thark. But I see no need to do so as a Ranger."