"Full access, Ranger."
"Good." That was standard in every Empire he'd visited or heard of, but since neither had applied to this one, it'd seemed best to ask rather than assume. "Record everything I say about Sandemans, then, and pass it along to IntelDiv for summary and conversion to a teaching tape. They should include a caveat that this information comes from Alpha Prime and may or may not apply to the Zeta Prime Sandemans."
"It will be done, Ranger."
"Thank you." Medart turned his attention back to Captain Chavvorth. "The Shapers were genetic engineers who left Terra in 2130 and deliberately lost themselves. Not long after that, they began using their own germ plasm to create the Sandeman race as improvements on humanity. The idiots didn't stop with that, though. They designed a complex of physical and psychological traits that made a percentage of the males into genetically-determined warriors who not only like to fight—it's one of their favorite occupations—they have to either fight or make love at regular intervals just to stay healthy."
Chavvorth stared at him. "Genetically determined warriors? That would explain much about them—but how could anyone be so stupid?"
Medart shrugged. "We don't know. When our Sandemans overthrew their Shapers, almost all the Shaper records were destroyed. My personal opinion is that it was sheer arrogance."
"Which they passed along to their creations," Chavvorth said.
Medart chuckled. "They have some justification, you must admit—they're stronger, faster, and more intelligent than the standard human norm."
"True," Chavvorth said grudgingly. "They also have greater mage-power, as you must have deduced from what I told you about their ability to escape."
"Uh-huh. In my universe, they've got greater than usual Talent, especially the warriors. So it seems reasonable that here they'd have more than the normal amount of magical ability." He took a swallow of coffee, grimacing when he found it was cold. "Just how bad is the situation?"