*Mike's more than he seems, then. And that's got to be one rough enemy, to have someone like you worried; even if you're not Satan, you've got the strongest Talent I've ever felt. When's the invasion, so I can tell His Majesty?*
Medart sensed amusement. *Your skepticism should anger me, James Medart, but I find it refreshing instead. If Odeon makes the proper decision, you will come to belief in the appropriate god at the necessary time. It is indeed 'one rough enemy', but I am not allowed to identify them to you further, and since the timing of numerous incidents in the defense is crucial, I doubt you will be able to tell anyone except Odeon any of this conversation. It is even possible that, once the decision point is passed, my Adversary may edit some of your memories to prevent inadvertent premature revelations.*
*I don't like that idea, but if you're right, I won't have any say in the matter, so there's no point in worrying or complaining. What about Mike?*
*I am not permitted to go into his background. I can, however, tell you that, should he decide in favor of the Empire, the Protector will give him Ranger-level abilities—including, if he chooses, the necessary mind-set.*
*Umm.* Medart got out of bed and put on a robe. An invasion he couldn't report, by an enemy that frightened someone as powerful as the one who was briefing him, with the best-case scenario for the Empire a devastating war—that didn't sound good at all. And it all hinged on one man! Well, at least it included the possibility of a new Ranger, which was definitely to the good. Tarlac assassinated right after the Traiti War, Menshikov, Ellman, and Steinhauer killed during the brief White Order revolt—even though he'd recruited Corina Losinj during that revolt, they were still three short of the average, and even that wasn't enough. *Will I be able to use that possibility in convincing him?*
*I believe so, though he does not at present have the scope to fully comprehend what a Ranger is. I have told you what is possible to me and necessary to you; we will not be in contact again until the decision point.*
With that, the contact broke. Medart shook his head, then went into the living room and made himself a cup of coffee. Instant from a microwave didn't match what he got from a shipboard service panel, but it was coffee, and he had a bad habit that way.
33. Another Discussion
A knock on Medart's door didn't surprise him. "Come in, Mike—I've been waiting for you."