A Matter of Honor: A Terran Empire novel

by Ann Wilson

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."

Tension built in the silent room as Corina thought. It wasn't fair, she felt. They were trying to… perhaps force was not the right word, but urge her into something she did not feel capable of. It was almost impossible for her to accept the idea that feeling unqualified was part of what made her qualified. It did not seem reasonable. And it was just too much!

Medart answered her unspoken thoughts. "No, it isn't fair. And the reasoning may not be obvious, but from our experience, it is logical."

"This is just as much a war as the one we fought with the Traiti," Forrest added, with a curious glance at Medart. "Even though the Empire tries to be fair, Sir Corina, we can't always manage, especially in this kind of emergency."

"Take some more time, Sir Corina," Emperor Davis said suddenly, sounding sympathetic. Forrest threw him a quick glance, so Davis continued. "It was a hard enough decision for us. She's already had to go through one drastic change; we can't expect her to accept the idea of an even more drastic one so easily or quickly."

Corina felt a flood of relief. "Thank you, Your Majesty!"

"So the little kitten can't take it," came a familiar voice.

Corina was shocked by the venom in the Security Chief's tone. So were others; everyone, from the Emperor on down, stared at the defiant Greggson.

"That was totally uncalled-for, Colonel," Davis said coldly. "One more such outburst and you will be replaced. You will apologize to Sir Corina at once."

Corina thought for a moment that Greggson would refuse, but he finally said, "Please forgive me, Sir Corina." His tone was full of distaste, but it was an apology; the Emperor looked unsatisfied, but said nothing. Corina wondered why.

*He doesn't want to have to relieve him, especially at this point,* Medart sent. *I don't know how he made it past the psych tests with what I'd class as xenophobia and paranoia, but he did, and he's one of the best Security Chiefs in the Fleet. Still, it looks to me like he's gone over the edge this time; once this rebellion's over, I'm going to have him retested.*

She glanced at him and nodded. Davis saw it, traded glances with Forrest, then said, "That seems to conclude the council as such, Captain Hobison. You and your people are dismissed; please return to your stations, and set course for Terra. Ranger Medart, Sir Corina, I would like you to remain."

All rose, Hobison and the Command Crew bowing before they left. The Emperor and Crown Prince reseated themselves, and Davis motioned the two aboard Chang to do the same. Then he leaned forward, looking at them intently. "It's obvious the two of you are holding something back, something important. Tell us about it."

*You tell them,* Medart sent. *It's your field of expertise, after all, not mine.*

*Yes, Ranger.* At least, Corina thought, she had no reason to be nervous about this. "I have discovered that Ranger Medart has a high degree of Talent, sire. I have begun training him in its use, and we have been `speaking'—primarily, he has been reassuring me— telepathically throughout the conference."

"Controlled, reliable telepathy?" Davis asked, his expression intent.

"Fully, sire. He also has the potential for strong darlas, and another Talent aspect we have not yet been able to identify."

"Does that mean he'll be able to help you against Thark?" Forrest asked.

"It is barely possible," Corina replied, "if we have the time to develop them. Telepathy is by far the easiest and fastest part of Talent to train. I would estimate it will take at least eight to twelve days before he will be able to use his other abilities with even a novice's degree of skill and reliability."

Davis frowned. "Will that be enough to help at all?"

"Any assistance against Thark will be of help, Your Majesty," Corina said.

"That's cutting it pretty fine, though," Forrest said. "You only give Thark five to ten days before he attacks."

"They'll just have to do the best they can," Davis said, then turned to Corina. "Can you teach that to anyone else?"

"I can if the latent ability is present, sire. And although I have no really firm grounds to base it on, I am beginning to suspect, from what I am learning from Ranger Medart, that most if not all Rangers do have such ability latent. There may be others as well; it appears that humans do use what you call paranormal powers, hunches for example, though not consciously and very weakly."

"When things get back to normal, I'd like you to check on that, and train any who do have it. For now, though, unless you have any more stunbursts for us, we'd better finish up here and get back to work."

"That's all we have, sir," Medart replied. He signalled Corina and the two stood, bowing. The men on the screen returned the courtesy, and the screen cleared.

"I'm sorry, Corina," Medart said. "It was a dirty trick to pull on you, making you agree to face Thark the way I did, but can you accept the fact that I had to do it?"

"I should be the one to apologize," she replied, continuing when she sensed his surprise. "It should not have been necessary for you to point out what honor requires of me. I suppose I knew, but was unwilling to face it."

"Don't let that bother you. It's not going to be either easy or fun, and none of us blame you for being reluctant."

"No, it will not be either," she agreed. "Thark is quite powerful. It is entirely possible that he will kill both of us."

"What're the odds?"

"Not good. I estimate I have perhaps one chance in five of defeating him, perhaps less."

Medart whistled. "That's bad. It doesn't change things, though; I'd have done the same thing even if I'd known the odds earlier."

"Having been in your mind, I am sure of that." Corina attempted a purr, with little success. "Nor would I expect otherwise from one in your position. You may phrase it differently, but honor compels you, also."