"Thank you, Rangers. Is there anything else?"
"No," Medart said, then looked at Corina, smiling. "Welcome to Imperial service, Ranger Losinj. Now that the formalities are over, you might want to get into uniform; we should call His Majesty with the good news, then have breakfast."
"That would seem proper," Corina agreed, "though I would prefer something other than your style. A kilt is nice, with a cloak for bad weather, and the sporran is useful—but I do not think I would be comfortable with fitted garments all over, such as yours."
"Good point," Medart said. "Since uniforms are supposed to be both convenient and a form of easy identification, there's no reason you shouldn't use a kilt the right shade of green; along with the badge, it should serve the purpose. And once we have time, you might want to recommend similar uniform changes for the Irschchan members of other Imperial services."
"Should we survive, I will do so." Corina went into her sleeping area and ordered a complete uniform, though with kilt instead of shirt and trousers, from the fabricator.
"Thark? There's him, of course," Medart called. "But there's no point in worrying about him right now. Make your preparations, get everything as ready as you can—then worry; it might let you find something you've overlooked."
"I will try." Corina shook her head, but Jim was right; she did tend to concern herself with problems that never arose, and that did waste time.
Medart heard the fabricator's delivery bell ping, then sounds of rustling cloth as Corina changed. The pattern rapport had made a big difference in her manner, he thought, and for the better. She was much more relaxed around him, even a little less formal. And she seemed more sure of herself, which would help.
Corina felt strange, changing out of her accustomed bright garb into the functional, if in her opinion unnecessarily drab, forest green. The fabricator had included an ankle-length cloak with heavy silver embroidery and the Imperial Seal; she considered that for a moment, settled it over her shoulders long enough to admire it in the mirror, and removed it. That was for formal ceremonies in which she used her military rank and title, not for every day. There was a visored hat, as well, but she didn't try it on; such headgear did not take Irschchan ear structure into account, so she planned to avoid wearing it. And possibly suggest another uniform change.
She stood holding the badge for a moment, still hesitating to take the final step and pin it on. It was only a small piece of platinum, a star in a circle, but it meant almost total independence and authority, subject only to the Sovereign, anywhere in Imperial space. It was odd, she thought, but this particular symbol affected her more than it should. Either Irschchans were more symbol-conscious than she had been taught, or this was a side effect of pattern rapport with a human.