Part 9 (1/2)
Corina stared from Ranger to Ensign and back, confused. This was far too informal, even by human standards, to mean what it seemed to--and yet the Ranger was perfectly serious, no trace of humor in voice or aura. ”I do not understand,” she said at last. ”I have done only my duty; I deserve no special recognition for that.”
”His Majesty doesn't agree, Sir Corina,” Medart said, stressing the t.i.tle slightly, as he took a seat. ”If you'd care to argue it with him--?”
Corina looked disbelievingly at the Ranger, who was smiling at her with one eyebrow raised. Was this what humans called ”teasing”? She supposed it had to be; he couldn't seriously expect her to argue with the Emperor! ”No, Ranger. If His Majesty wishes to so honor me, I must accept.”
Typical exaggerated Irschchan respect for authority, Medart thought, but if she stayed around humans long, she'd get over that! ”You'd best finish your lunch, Sir Corina. And get used to the t.i.tle; I've called a Command Crew meeting for 1400, so you can brief them.”
”Yes, Ranger.” Corina turned her attention back to her meal, the milk and medium-rare steak Sunbeam had recommended.
The meeting began on schedule, in Briefing Room One, with Hobison introducing his senior officers. Corina took the opportunity to make a quick evaluation of each. There was no dishonor; she was not probing deeply enough to intrude.
Hobison himself was s.h.i.+elded, well enough she could read nothing of him . . . as he should be in his position, though it was surprising.
”My Executive Officer, Commander Sonia Pappas.” She was a short brunette, four or five kilos overweight but not fat. No mind screen; Corina felt an aura of competence from her.
”Marine Lieutenant Colonel Jeff Greggson, Chief of Security.” Tall and muscular, he wore Marine black with silver oak leaf rank insigne.
Despite his strong mind s.h.i.+eld, Corina sensed hostility.
”Commander Marie Sherman, Chief Medical Officer.” A tall blonde who seemed uncomfortable outside her own medical center. No screen, but she wasn't radiating any particular emotion, either.
”And finally Commander Carl Jensen, Chief Engineer.” Small and studious looking, he didn't really stand out. Like Sherman, he was uns.h.i.+elded and wanted nothing more than to return to his own domain.
Medart took over the meeting at that point, describing what little he knew of the White Order. ”We're here to find out exactly how much of a threat the Order actually is to the Empire,” he concluded. ”Sir Corina has agreed to help us, so she's next.”
Corina stood. ”I do not know precisely what information you wish.
Perhaps it would be best if you asked questions.”
”All right. Just what can the Order do? Specifically, what is this Talent we hear stories about? I need facts, not rumors.”
”You mean the individual members?”
”For a start, yes.”
”Urrr . . . telepathy, of course, and--”
”Reliable telepathy?” Sherman broke in skeptically. ”That's never been proven.”
”Then I must do so, at least to your satisfaction.” Corina turned to the Ranger. ”If I may do so without dishonor?”
”There's no dishonor involved; that's what you're here for. Go ahead.”
Corina turned back, probed gently into the Medical Officer's unscreened mind. ”You are familiar with the Rhine reports some four centuries before the Empire?”
”Yes, but they're no more proof of telepathy than your guessing I'd read them.”
”They should have convinced you. Since they do not, I must probe more deeply. I do not wish to distress you, but belief is essential. I have been aboard only a short time, not long enough to learn anything about you in the so-called 'normal' way. Would you agree?”
Sherman nodded.
”Very well. Your middle name is Jean. Your hobby is pre-Empire science fiction.” Corina paused, contemplating. ”That appears interesting; I shall have to look into it. To continue, your favorite stories are the Lensman series, and your only regret is that--”