A Matter of Honor Part 19

She felt occasional twinges of familiarity which she knew must come from the Medart-pattern that was becoming a part of her mind. Most of the integration, of course, would be done by her undermind while she slept that night--but she could feel it beginning already.

As she had known it would be, Corina's sleep that night was restless, disturbed by her undermind's attempt to fit those alien memories into a pattern that would allow her to grasp and use them. She might never fully understand them, but when the process was complete, she would have more feeling for humans than was possible for an Irschchan who hadn't experienced pattern rapport with one.

The integration process worked mostly in the form of dreams, some fragmentary, some less so. She/Jim was laying in a bed with bars, a huge pink face framed in white looking down at her/him and radiating a feeling of peace.

Then Corina-as-Jim was sitting beside a wicker basket, stroking a Siamese cat who was giving birth to her first litter of kittens and wouldn't let him leave. There were three already, tiny white-furred things blindly nursing. The mother stared up at him, b.u.t.ting his hand with her head, and purred as only a Siamese could, seeming to be proud of her accomplishment.

A nude swim in a warm blue sea--the memory a pleasant one for the human, but one that made Corina's sleeping body tremble with distaste.

But it was Jim's invitation to the Rangers that claimed most of her attention, from Perry appearing in his room after the Test Week results were posted, through his first meeting with the Emperor soon after--it had been Yasunon then, not Davis, who was still Crown Prince--to his brief visit home before starting his new duties.

For details of Medart's invitation, see SELECT

Working with other Rangers, then alone: the ma.s.sive flood that almost wiped out the Yonar colony, and proved to be sabotage. Taking over the Chang when Rick was elected Successor, and renewing his acquaintance with Dave when Captain Hobison took command. The Ondrian affair, with his new friend Star-flower playing a large part, and a wry thought that he kept getting involved with cats in one form or another.

The crisis in Sector Five when Sandeman erupted, conquering half that Sector before its Duke realized she couldn't handle them and called for Imperial help. The mind-probe of Gaelan, giving her a new insight into the small warriors, and added respect for their integrity and ability.

Glimpses of many planets, from s.p.a.ce and surface. That one spotting of a huge white ship that disappeared into hypers.p.a.ce and couldn't be traced.

The memory of his sorrow at Yasunon's death was enough to make Corina toss restlessly in bed. She seemed to see the funeral from two viewpoints at once: her own, the film in history cla.s.s, and Jim's being there. Then came the Conclave that elected Forrest as Crown Prince when Davis became Emperor.

Then war struck. Fragmentary memories of battle flickered by, then came a chance to capture a Traiti ship. Ray Kennard had come up with an idea that might keep imprisoned Traiti alive, at least long enough to be questioned before they succ.u.mbed to the prisoner psychosis that so inevitably killed the ones who could be kept from suicide.

He'd gone with the boarding party despite Hobison's objections. He'd seen his first live Traiti then, with its leathery gray skin and sharklike face. Not attractive at all to Medart's way of thinking-- then--but the big male was hurt and in obvious pain; he'd knelt, intending to help, only to be torn almost in two by the Traiti's claws and teeth.

And, he found out when he was allowed to regain consciousness after that week of immersion in rapid-heal, it had been for nothing. The two prisoners the boarding party did manage to take had lived to reach Terra before the psychosis set in, no longer.

It was a memory that reeked of failure and self-accusation. He should've expected that trick; although it wasn't common, it was known.

His carelessness and stupidity could have cost them the ship, cost the Empire a Ranger it could ill afford to lose, wasted even more lives.

Corina shifted, unable to accept that even in a dream. He was a Ranger, he had been doing the only thing honor would allow . . .

Then came the interrupted recovery leave on Irschcha, and his meeting with the young Losinj. In Medart's memory, Corina watched herself defeat the Marines, studied her own records, discussed them with the Emperor. Again came the invitation to join the Rangers, but from his side this time, and the intensity of his emotion was enough to bring her awake shivering.

She rose and automatically went through her morning routine, then went to the service panel and got a gla.s.s of milk. She sat at the desk, then, taking occasional sips and thinking. Did she still have a choice, or did the Empire's need of her make this a matter of honor?

Jim--no, Ranger Medart, though it was now difficult to think of him that way--would, she knew, leave that question to her. And she was terribly afraid she knew how she would eventually have to answer.

VIII

Medart's night was equally disturbed, though since Corina was younger and had had a more peaceful life, his dreams were less troubling.

He saw/was Corina, about seven years old Standard, receiving her soul-blade from an elderly Order initiate in a ritual as old as the Order itself. He was impressing her mind pattern on the blade with a specialized form of darlas, and her acceptance of it would signify technical adulthood, though she would stay with her parents for some time yet. The dagger, ideally, should never leave her while she lived, and now he felt the reason as well as knowing it. The pattern-imprinting made the blade literally a part of her.

Scattered memory-bits of school and family, nothing particularly significant until her discovery of her Talent, accidentally made while she was basking in the sun beside her favorite fountain. Although she'd said it had been weeks before she'd learned to read thoughts not specifically directed at her, Medart realized that she must have been subconsciously blocking them, because that was how she'd made her accidental discovery.

For details of Corina's discovery, see TALENT

Medart shifted his position in bed, her memory-feelings enough to push him out of that dream but not waken him. He soon slid into another one, rather patchy at first. Her first meeting with Thark, High Adept of the White Order, who was impressed and pleased by a Talent she wasn't sure she was happy to have since it had cost her the future she dreamed of. There were later memories of them together; after she had forced her regret into the background, they had developed a profound regard and respect for each other, though much of it was hidden by their formal teacher-student relationship.

Then came their breakup, in full detail. Medart experienced it all, from the friendly greeting and Thark's comments on her ability, through her discovery of the Crusade and her rejection of it, to their declaration of mutual enmity. Outwardly quiet though that had been, it had enough of an emotional charge to awaken the Ranger.

A glance at his chrono showed 0405. Too late, the way he felt, to go back to sleep, so he rose, showered, and dressed. Then he sent a tentative inquiry. *You awake?*

*Yes.* Hopefully, *Would you care to join me?*

*You bet. I'll be right there.*

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 gla.s.s 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.

"None of us is perfect," he said mildly. "We're mortals, not G.o.ds, and we've all made mistakes."

"Yes, I see that," she said at last. "Your memories are most convincing." She paused, took a deep breath, then nodded. "Very well, Ranger Medart. I accept the burden."

Medart seemed to relax all over, though he hadn't seemed particularly tense. "As Arlene said, none of us asked for this job. Anyone who did would be the sort we wouldn't want. And it does have compensations, you know, both social and financial; you'll learn about those as you go. And remember we're not the only ones with a lot of confidence in your ability; Thark knew you could handle being a member of the Prime Chapter, though he had his aims for you set too low. Okay, let's make it official. Emperor Chang?"

"Yes, Ranger Medart?"

"Formal voiceprint confirmation for Empire Net ident and security input. This is Ranger James Kieran Medart, ident code RJT-6743-5197."

There was a brief pause, then the ship-comp said, "Voiceprint confirmed. Awaiting input."

"Change ident code ISCCJ-1643-2048 to RCJ-1643-2048. Delete all security restrictions from the individual identified by that code, and relay to any peripherals that Corina Losinj of Irschcha has been selected as a Ranger."

"Acknowledged. Request formal voiceprint from Ranger Losinj."