IX

In the shuttle heading for Sherwood Forest, Medart said, "I agree that speed's important, so why not split up? We could cover the ship faster that way."

"I do not think that would be wise, Jim." Corina was a little uncomfortable with such familiarity, even in private and with the knowledge from his memory that it was now proper for her, but she felt she ought to accustom herself to it. "You cannot test a shield's strength without using darlas, and you do not yet have the control to do that safely." Getting brave, she chided herself. Making suggestions to the Emperor, giving orders to a battle cruiser's captain, and now telling a Ranger—a fellow Ranger, she reminded herself—there was a thing he could not do.

Medart sensed her feelings and smiled to himself. Yeah, she had the adaptability, all right. She'd definitely gained confidence since the pattern rapport, which was good, and she was already showing the self-possession it had taken him over a month to achieve, maybe from his memories. That, he thought, was even better; she'd need every edge she could get. "I can't argue," he said. "I certainly don't want a repeat of the accident with you."

"Nor do I. If you were to overestimate a shield's strength, or visualize too clearly, you could easily injure or kill its possessor. You will test them, yes, but only when I am standing by to protect them."

"That sounds reasonable."

They reached the ship's park a couple of minutes later, and encountered several crewmembers as they walked through it. None, unfortunately, had any trace of shield, which disappointed both Rangers. But Corina, despite her misgivings about the mission she'd assumed, found the forest eased her tension. She breathed deeply, savoring the smell of growing things—and startled herself with a sneeze. That was odd, she thought; she knew of no allergies. Perhaps it was the change of environment.

The forest's calming effect didn't last. Much as she liked such surroundings, she couldn't avoid the knowledge that it might be her last time to enjoy them. She kept that thought carefully shielded from the other Ranger; it wouldn't help for him to know just how much she dreaded the coming encounter with Thark, or her certainty that it would mean both their deaths.

Medart felt the shield and wondered at it, but decided to remain silent. She must have a reason for concealing whatever it was, he was certain, and although that pattern rapport had made them in some ways closer than any married couple, she did deserve her privacy. If she felt like sharing this later, she would.

He thought of a safe subject. "It almost slipped my mind, Rina. You're entitled to an aide if you want one; what about it?"

Corina turned to him in surprise. "What would I need an aide for?"

"To run errands for you, make appointments, take care of anything you don't want to or can't do yourself."

"I do not think I wish one. You seem to have no such need, and it appears to be a waste of a person who could accomplish more useful things elsewhere."

Medart nodded. "I've never used one for just those reasons. When we run into Sunbeam, then, I'll tell her she can go back to her regular duties."

"That will disappoint her, but she is much too able to be what I gather is no more than a personal servant."

"Right. Well, we don't seem to be finding too much here; let's go on."

The two worked their way through the next several decks with equal lack of result. There were a few screens here and there, but they found nothing approaching the strength of a true shield, and Medart was scowling.

Corina sensed beginning discouragement, and hastened to reassure him. "Jim, we already know that Talent is even rarer among humans than it is among Irschchans. We have encouraged and developed it for millennia, and even to a certain extent bred for it. Humans have not, so I am surprised to have found so many with even as limited a Talent as shields. This ship has a crew of approximately two thousand, does it not?"

"Just about. And no passengers this trip."

"Then assuming even half as many humans—in this picked group; the true number, from Thark's experience, is far less—as Irschchans are at all Talented, an assumption he would not credit, we can expect to find at most ten, in addition to the ones we already have. Fewer would not surprise me."

"And there are how many in the Prime Chapter?"

"Nine. The most dangerous are Thark, who is my problem, then Senior Adepts Valla and Kainor, who I am afraid will be yours and perhaps Colonel Greggson's, if his shield is as strong as I first thought."

"We should have some element of surprise with shields, shouldn't we? From what you said, they won't be expecting even that much."

"True, but even shields will give only a temporary advantage. They will adapt quickly, and they are powerful. You will have to use the few seconds the shields give you to stun or kill them. I will be no help there; Thark will be keeping me fully occupied. And I am sure there will be Sanctioners to deal with, as well as the Seniors."

"Yeah. Well, if we're going to have any chance at all, we'd better find ourselves that assault group. And it could take days, at this rate; this is a damn big ship." He thought for a moment. "You did say you can sense the presence of a shield. Isn't there any way you can use that to speed this up, find them all today?"

"There is one way," Corina admitted, "but I dislike using it. I could find shielded minds, then direct you to a nearby unscreened one to determine location. That, however, involves probing many who lack Talent."

"And I know how you feel about that. But you can't be absolutely sure you've guessed Thark's timing right, can you?"

Corina shook her head. "No, I cannot. You are correct, the necessity for speed is more important than my reluctance. Very well, but go no deeper than you must to determine location."

"Right."

No longer interested in a physical search, the two Rangers found an unoccupied passenger lounge and began the mental one. With Corina's Talent and Medart's knowledge of the ship, it went quickly; they found eleven, besides the known three, with enough shield to be worth further testing. Hobison's, they already knew, was adequate, and Corina was less than enthusiastic about meeting Greggson again, so they decided to check with the young Sandeman first. His shield was strong, she knew from the demonstration, and she knew his pattern from the combat demonstration, which made it a simple matter to touch him, find someone nearby, and let Medart identify his location. "Zero-gee gym," the human Ranger said. "I think you're going to like what you see."

When they reached the mid-level observation platform glassed off from the gym itself, Corina had to agree. Nevan was practicing flight-shooting, clad only in exercise trunks that set off his dark skin. Small and slender he might be, but there was no denying his strength or his grace as he pushed himself off one gym wall, drew his bow in a single smooth motion, and fired as he tumbled through the air.

"Beautiful," Corina said. "I have never seen a human move with such economy or precision. That is a combat bow, is it not?"

"Instead of a practice one? Right—no target sights, and it's a lot heavier. That one pulls close to seventy kilos. I can't even get the string back ten centis, and he makes it look like nothing."

Nevan hit the far wall feet-first. There was the solid sound of him kicking off again, the scream of a hollow pierced-shaft arrow, the thud of it hitting the small remote-controlled target less than a centimeter from the first. That was repeated half a decade times, with what appeared to be effortless ease.

"Does he ever miss?" Corina asked as the Sandeman continued to shoot.

"I've never heard of it happening, and I'm sure it'd be all over the ship in less than an hour if he did." Medart chuckled. "He spends half his free time in combat exercises of one sort or another, after all, not just the minimums for on-duty training. It's not as good as combat, to their way of thinking, but it's better than what we standard humans class as normal entertainment."

The two were silent then, for the couple of minutes it took Nevan to run out of arrows and signal the target controller to end the session. Then he dove for the floor, used a handhold to pull himself erect, and switched off the gravity neutralizer that isolated the gym from the ship's gravity field.

"Okay," Medart said. "That's it; let's get down to the dressing room and wait for him to get into uniform."

"You stressed the need for speed," Corina said as they left the observation platform. "Why do you not speak to him while he changes? I cannot, I know; having a female around would embarrass a human male."

"Or vice versa." Medart grinned. "And Sandemans are even worse than most that way. They don't even like to strip for a medical exam—which they hate in the first place. I'd embarrass him every bit as much as you would. I was worried about wasting days; we can spare a few minutes."

"I do not understand, but I would not wish to offend him. We do want his assistance."

Medart chuckled. "Don't worry, you'll get it. Just look at Gaelan's memories if you think there's any chance of a Sandeman warrior passing up any kind of honorable combat."

Corina did, and found herself amused at her doubt. "I see. But he should still have the opportunity to refuse, with the odds so greatly against the assault team."

It wasn't long before the dressing room door opened and Nevan emerged, his blond hair still damp from the shower. He'd caught a glimpse of the two Rangers watching his practice, so he wasn't really too surprised to find them waiting for him, but he was wondering what they wanted with a young First Lieutenant fresh out of the Academy. He came to perfect Guidebook attention, waited.

"At ease, Lieutenant." Corina purred briefly. This one, she thought, would truly be an asset. "I must ask if you would be willing to volunteer for a particularly hazardous mission, one from which it is entirely possible no survivors will emerge." She went on to explain about his mental defenses and the opposition the assault team would face. She wished she could read his thoughts, but after the first mention of fighting, she had no doubt of his answer; not even Marine discipline could make him hold back a smile, and his eagerness was evident in his steel-gray eyes. "I believe that is everything," she said at last. "The choice is yours, and you may refuse without prejudice."

For Nevan's opinion of this, see [NEVAN]

"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."

Medart nodded. "I can understand that. What next?"

"Next," Corina said, getting to her feet, "we eat and rest. Those are as important to your progress as the training itself."