She told herself to get on with it. She had accepted the job, why not its symbol? But it did not seem appropriate, after Jim's memories, to pin it on herself—not the first time. She returned to the living area, held it out to Medart. "Would you mind?"
"Not at all. I'd be honored." Medart took the badge and pinned it to the holder the fabricator had provided on her equipment belt.
To Corina's surprise—and Medart's satisfaction—her emotions when he did so were a duplicate of his fifty-seven years earlier. Pride, determination—and the confidence that others' belief in you could create.
*Yes,* Corina sent. *I have heard of such boosts, but had never quite believed in them. It is strange… I had always thought myself unaffected by others' opinions, but it is clear I was wrong.*
*Sometimes it depends on who the others are,* Medart replied. *Someone you don't care about can't have more than a surface impact, pro or con; someone you do care about can have a disproportionate one. This is the wrong time for philosophy, though. Is that knife the only weapon you plan to carry? You might want to think about something with a little more range.*
"I think not," Corina said aloud. "I am not familiar with distance weapons, since I am not a Sanctioner; my darlas should be adequate for anyone I cannot reach physically—after this mission, at least." She indicated the weapon at his belt. "Nor, I would say, am I the only one to prefer unconventional weapons; that does not appear to be a blaster."
"It isn't," Medart said, drawing the weapon with a chuckle. "It's just as effective, though, maybe more so. It's a replica of a Browning Hi-Power 9mm automatic—a slugthrower. I had it made not long after I was tapped, and I have a standing order for fresh ammunition; it goes bad after a few years, even under shipboard conditions. It holds thirteen rounds in the clip—" which slid out as he pressed the release button, "and one in the chamber when I expect trouble. I can always carry more clips if I expect a lot of trouble." He worked the action, then handed her the empty weapon.
Corina examined it carefully. It was too large for her hand, which she expected because it seemed to fit Jim's perfectly. She was impressed by the precise workmanship, too; it made the gun, deadly as it was, a thing of great beauty.
"Why a slugthrower instead of a blaster?" she asked curiously.
"Personal preference," Medart replied. "For one thing, I happen to like slugthrowers—and computers with keyboards, and paper books. For another, more practical reason, it has stopping power a blaster can't match, and it's noisy. A snap shot, if I'm surprised, will give me time enough to get in a second, well-aimed round. That's saved my life a couple of times."