He was soon seated in one of the armchairs in her cabin, balancing a steaming cup of coffee on its arm. Corina still sat at the desk, sipping at her second glass of milk.
"That was quite an experience," Medart finally said. "Especially that last meeting with Thark."
"And your feelings when His Majesty pinned your badge on. It is strange, is it not, how a small piece of metal can mean so much?"
She was skirting the subject, and both knew it, but Medart went along. Patience now, he felt, would pay off later.
"There's an ancient Terran proverb," he said, "that clothes make the man. It isn't literally true, of course, and the badge certainly doesn't have any intrinsic power, but humans are very strongly affected by symbols. This one," he tapped the badge on his chest, "can trace its history back to before the Empire, even back before atomic energy. It's meant official authority in one form or another since at least the second century pre-atomic, and for centuries before that—maybe longer—it was believed to be a particularly powerful magical symbol."
Corina nodded, appreciating his intent as well as his explanation. "I think I understand, though clothes are relatively new to us, and symbols of that sort affect us far less strongly." She smoothed her kilt. "What you wear affects the way others act toward you, but does it not also affect your own feelings?"
Medart nodded, but remained silent as he sensed her growing comprehension.
"That, then, is why you and the others wish me to face Thark as a Ranger. The added psychological advantage."
"Yes, partly," Medart said. "You do have the ability—compare yourself to me when I was tapped, if you still have doubts—and the uniform and badge will give you the extra edge of confidence you need to use that ability fully. The other part is the way seeing you as a Ranger will affect Thark, since his main grievance—aside from our supposed lack of Talent—is the real lack of high-ranking Irschschan Imperial officers."
"The second is certainly true. The first…" Corina fell silent, retracing her borrowed memories to Medart's first meeting with Perry. She ignored the surface this time through, digging for the deeper memories, and those confirmed Medart's words. Their specific abilities differed, but the general level was approximately the same. And despite mistakes he thought of as idiotic—she winced at the recurring thought of that Traiti deception—he had done well.