Perry chuckled. "The classic answer. Jim, all your test results were fed into the Empire Net and analyzed. The comps saw you had the kind of profile we're interested in, so the Net kicked your records up to the closest Ranger, who happened to be me. I agreed, so I brought them to His Majesty's attention. He agreed, so I'm here. Care to argue that combination?"
Medart took a deep breath. "With all due respect, sir, I don't have any choice, since I can't agree. I think I know myself pretty well; I'd make a good Navy officer, maybe even captain of a battle cruiser— but not a Ranger."
Perry sat down on Medart's bed, next to the carryall. "Good. Believe it or not, Jim, that's exactly the response we were hoping for. If you did want the job, thought right away you could handle it, you'd be an arrogant fool—and you'd have disqualified yourself, even this late. I know it's hard to understand that feeling unqualified is part of what makes you qualified, but history proves that in most cases, people who want power are the last ones who should have it. There are a few exceptions, of course, but we're talking about the vast majority.
"What we want are people who have the necessary ability and a reasonable amount of ambition, but who aren't interested in power for the sake of power itself. It's a delicate balance, and we may miss some who qualify because we prefer to take no chances on power-hunger— but you can be positive that if you are tapped, you do qualify."
Medart hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. He knew as well as anyone that the Empire was chronically short of Rangers. There were never enough, even when there were more than the average of ten. It was also common knowledge that however few there were, the selection criteria— whatever those were—were never lowered. They might be, and had been, raised; the opposite, never. So however unqualified he felt, he could be positive, as she said, that he was in fact fully qualified.
And he'd applied for the Academy because, as far back as he could remember, his goal in life had been to serve the Empire to the best of his ability. Until Perry had entered his life, he'd thought that meant the military, like the rest of his family. Now he was told there was a far more essential service the Empire wanted of him. That, he thought, had to take precedence over his fear of the responsibility—and they must have known he'd feel that way.
"In that case, sir—it scares me more than I want to admit, but if you and His Majesty want me for the job, I have to try." He hesitated, then said, "Which you probably knew, from my psych tests, before I did."
Perry's smile was relieved. "We hoped, and we thought the odds were good—but we didn't know. Good as the indicators are, we do have some refusals. Welcome to Imperial service, Ranger Medart."
Ranger Medart. The idea still scared him, but he had to admit he did like the way it sounded. "Thank you… uh, what do I call you now?"
"Arlene in private, Ranger Perry in public. And His Majesty is `sir' to you now, not `sire'." She grinned. "I think civvies would be more appropriate than probationary-cadet clothing, and I have a sidearm for you outside the door. His Majesty will give you your badge when we get to the Palace. Okay?"