A Matter of Honor Part 23

Nevan hit the far wall feet-first. There was the solid sound of him kicking off again, the scream of a hollow pierced-shaft arrow, the thud of it hitting the small remote-controlled target less than a centimeter from the first. That was repeated half a decade times, with what appeared to be effortless ease.

"Does he ever miss?" Corina asked as the Sandeman continued to shoot.

"I've never heard of it happening, and I'm sure it'd be all over the ship in less than an hour if he did." Medart chuckled. "He spends half his free time in combat exercises of one sort or another, after all, not just the minimums for on-duty training. It's not as good as combat, to their way of thinking, but it's better than what we standard humans cla.s.s as normal entertainment."

The two were silent then, for the couple of minutes it took Nevan to run out of arrows and signal the target controller to end the session.

Then he dove for the floor, used a handhold to pull himself erect, and switched off the gravity neutralizer that isolated the gym from the ship's gravity field.

"Okay," Medart said. "That's it; let's get down to the dressing room and wait for him to get into uniform."

"You stressed the need for speed," Corina said as they left the observation platform. "Why do you not speak to him while he changes?

I cannot, I know; having a female around would embarra.s.s a human male."

"Or vice versa." Medart grinned. "And Sandemans are even worse than most that way. They don't even like to strip for a medical exam--which they hate in the first place. I'd embarra.s.s him every bit as much as you would. I was worried about wasting days; we can spare a few minutes."

"I do not understand, but I would not wish to offend him. We do want his a.s.sistance."

Medart chuckled. "Don't worry, you'll get it. Just look at Gaelan's memories if you think there's any chance of a Sandeman warrior pa.s.sing up any kind of honorable combat."

Corina did, and found herself amused at her doubt. "I see. But he should still have the opportunity to refuse, with the odds so greatly against the a.s.sault team."

It wasn't long before the dressing room door opened and Nevan emerged, his blond hair still damp from the shower. He'd caught a glimpse of the two Rangers watching his practice, so he wasn't really too surprised to find them waiting for him, but he was wondering what they wanted with a young First Lieutenant fresh out of the Academy. He came to perfect Guidebook attention, waited.

"At ease, Lieutenant." Corina purred briefly. This one, she thought, would truly be an a.s.set. "I must ask if you would be willing to volunteer for a particularly hazardous mission, one from which it is entirely possible no survivors will emerge." She went on to explain about his mental defenses and the opposition the a.s.sault team would face. She wished she could read his thoughts, but after the first mention of fighting, she had no doubt of his answer; not even Marine discipline could make him hold back a smile, and his eagerness was evident in his steel-gray eyes. "I believe that is everything," she said at last. "The choice is yours, and you may refuse without prejudice."

For Nevan's opinion of this, see NEVAN

"No, sir. I'm volunteering."

"Excellent. I will call a briefing as soon as I have spoken to all those who have shields of adequate strength, and so are eligible for the a.s.sault team. In the meantime you are relieved of normal duty; relax, or do whatever you think best to prepare yourself."

"Yes, sir." Nevan came to attention again, waiting.

*You'll have to dismiss him,* Medart sent. *He's still Academy-stiff, hasn't relaxed to Fleet standards yet.*

*Thank you.* "Dismissed, Lieutenant." Corina watched him leave, purring softly in satisfaction that he, at least, was happy. Then her ears went back slightly, and she turned to Medart. "I can no longer put it off. We must speak to Colonel Greggson."

"I'll talk to him if you'd like, since he makes you uncomfortable."

"No, though I thank you for the offer. I have accepted this job, I will do what it requires. I will speak to him."

"Right." Good for her, Medart thought. She'd apparently gotten more from his memories than he'd realized; that sounded like something he'd said once, back in the early days of his own career. Or maybe they were just a lot alike.

Greggson, naturally, was in his office in the Security section. He stood and came to attention as the two Rangers entered, strictly by the book though his expression was cold. "Yes, sirs?"

Corina explained as she had to Nevan, seeing Greggson's expression become thoughtful as he a.n.a.lyzed the problem. It seemed Jim was right, she thought. This man was a professional, would do his job in spite of his personal opinions. And his shield was fractionally tighter than Hobison's or Nevan's, though not up to Jim's partially-trained one. "I believe, Colonel," she finished, "that you would be most useful on the team going after Thark, Valla, and Kainor, although that will mean working directly with me. Are you willing to do so?"

"Yes, sir." Emotion was seeping through, despite his shield, and Corina read two that conflicted strongly. One was a pa.s.sionate dislike for her as an individual, but the other was more important to the Marine: his duty to the Empire, which she as a Ranger had the right to command.

That fact overrode his personal feelings. He would accompany the a.s.sault team not because she asked it, but because of his own conviction that it was part of his job as a Marine. In a flash of insight, Corina realized that Sunbeam had, perhaps without fully realizing it, given her a very accurate capsule description.

Greggson's work was truly all he had: the Corps was his entire life, nothing outside had any meaning whatsoever. She found herself pitying him as she and Medart left with his agreement, on the way to speak with the rest of the shielded ones.

The group that finally came together in Briefing Room One shortly after noon to form the a.s.sault team was an unlikely one, but the only one that would have any chance at all. In addition to those they'd first spoken to, the Rangers had found a nurse, an engineer's a.s.sistant, the ship's junior navigator, and four other Marine officers.

There was noticeable tension in the room when Corina called the briefing to order. They already knew the basic situation; she could go directly to the a.s.sault itself. "I will be making a.s.signments based solely on shield strength, as that is the only factor which will slow the Seniors to any degree. Ranger Medart, Colonel Greggson, and I will attempt to trace and confront Thark and his two chief lieutenants. I would like the rest of you to spread throughout the Palace, to find and eliminate as many of the others as you can. We will remain in touch as necessary by wrist communicators, which will be issued as soon as we are finished here.

"I have ordered a disruptor mounted on the lander we will be using.

Lieutenant DarLeras, Ranger Medart tells me you are a pilot; since we do not have such a specialist, I would like you to fill that position as well as the combat one you agreed to earlier. Will that cause you any problem?"

"No, sir. It just means I prep before we leave, rather than during the trip."

Medart sent Corina a mental wince. *Make sure your restraints are tight. He took it easy on the way up because it was your first trip; he wouldn't be concerned about comfort on a combat flight even if he weren't battleprepped. Since he will be, we're going to have a rough ride.*

*He is still the only pilot we have, and it will be to our advantage for him to be prepped. He will have to take our limitations into consideration, however.*

*He will, since that's good tactics, but that doesn't mean he'll be gentle, especially if he has to do any dodging. Go on.*

"Unfortunately, Prowler will have to be destroyed to prevent its weapons from being used against us. Since I expect the crew to remain aboard, that means they will be killed. The others, Seniors and Sanctioners, will be in the Palace, and we must expect immediate opposition when we land."

"What kind of armament does Prowler have?" Greggson asked.

"When I was last aboard, approximately a week ago, it had medium-power blasters. I believe its shields are standard for that cla.s.s."

"Nothing a disruptor can't handle, then. It'd take more than a week to mount heavy weapons."

"He would depend more on speed and secrecy, even so," Corina said. "He wishes to take over; he will cause no more destruction than he must."

"What about personal weapons?" Nevan asked.

"The Seniors will depend on Talent. Sanctioners, however, have only limited Talent, as a rule just telepathy and shields, so they use and are quite familiar with distance weapons. Some have considerable skill, and those are the ones likeliest to be in Thark's group."

Greggson frowned. "No unTalented at all? I'd hoped we could supplement our few shielded people with a trained Security team, at least."

"I do not believe he would take that chance," Corina said. "This is far too important to him; his attack force will include only his best people. A Security team would have little chance against even a Sanctioner's simple telepathy; no action can be taken without at least a fraction of a second's forethought."

"d.a.m.n." Greggson's voice was flat. "That's out, then."

"Hold on," Hobison said. "Emperor Chang?"

"Yes, Captain Hobison?"

"Identify Prowler, Irschchan registry, and give crew/pa.s.senger capacity."