Medart did some serious thinking about the young Irschchan while he waited in the briefing room for Hobison. Like most Rangers, he'd learned to follow his occasional hunches, and one had hit him on the way up to the Chang. Corina Losinj was important, both to the Empire and—on a very personal basis—to a certain James Medart. His hunches were seldom specific, so he didn't have any idea how or why she was important, but he was certain she was. That was part of the reason he'd called her his special assistant, and had her assigned quarters near his own.
He looked up as Hobison entered. "Everything set, Dave?"
"Yes, sir," Hobison replied. "And I had Communications call the Palace, your personal code. We should be getting a reply any time, and it'll be patched through to here."
"Thanks." Medart was appreciative, though he hadn't expected any less from the man who'd captained his ship for the past twenty years. "This is something I'm not looking forward to telling His Majesty."
The briefing room screen flickered blue, then cleared to show a lean, gray-haired man wearing a Ranger's uniform with the Imperial Seal in place of the badge. Both men on the Chang stood and saluted.
Emperor Charles Davis returned the salute. "What is it, Jim? You wouldn't be back on duty if it weren't critical."
"Rebellion, sir." Medart reported all he had learned, both from the probe of Entos and from Corina, watching the Emperor's expression become grim. And he reported his hunch.
Davis nodded. "Follow it up. Learn all you can about their Talent, too. The White Order's never given us any trouble before, so they were entitled to their privacy, but that's over now. We can't afford to keep depending on stories and rumors."
"She's agreed to give any help she can, sir, as I said, and that includes briefing me on Talent."
"Good. I'll alert the nobility, have them take extra precautions since they're bound to be targets. You're on-scene; do you think I should have a fleet cordon off Irschcha itself?"