The scene below her was sickening. Bodies scattered around were bad enough, but there was worse: Thark's calm, merciless beating of the helpless Kennard, while Valla and Kainor looked on in apparent approval. These couldn't be the gentle, affectionate people who had taught her with such patience over the last four years, now bloody and fearsome.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward to the edge of the dais and called, "Thark!"
He turned, startled, and looked up at her. "Corina!" he exclaimed. "What—" Then he noticed the drab green kilt, totally uncharacteristic of her. Now what? he wondered. He strode to meet her as she descended from the dais, drawing his bloody soul-blade as he went.
Corina unsheathed her own blade, the movement attracting Thark's attention to the bit of metal at her belt. A human would have paled in deep shock; Thark's only visible reaction was an agitated twitch of his ears.
"You? A Ranger?" It was too much for him to accept. First humans with shields—blades, with Talent!—and now Losinj a Ranger? "No!"
"It is true, Thark. I am placing you under arrest for treason against the Empire."
Thark started to answer, was interrupted by gunfire. The Sanctioner holding Kennard had let the human fall to go for his blaster; Nevan dropped him, Valla, and three others while Medart shot Kainor and the remaining Sanctioner. His demoralization was completed when the Sandeman said, "Good shooting, Ranger Medart. Do you want that last one, or may I take him?"
"Neither," Medart replied. "He's hers—give me a hand with Kennard."
"Yes, sir." Nevan holstered his blaster, and the two men went to kneel by the fallen Ranger.
Corina stopped in front of her former teacher. "You have seen and felt the truth, Thark. Will you continue to deny it and fight, or will you do as you taught me honor requires?"