Part 18 (1/2)
”Are you all right?” he asked again.
She took a quick self-inventory, decided she was well if uncomfortable, and rea.s.sured him. ”I am unharmed, though I will have a headache for some time. What did you do?”
He hesitated for a moment, looking her over carefully. ”I'm not certain. Nothing seemed to be working, so I tried picturing a giant anaconda--that's a Terran snake--wrapped around you, contracting. I finally got it good and clear, and you collapsed. Are you sure you're all right?”
Corina growled softly, disgusted at herself. ”Blades! I should have thought of that. Unless you concentrate on words, I keep getting pictures from you. I should have realized your primary orientation was visual, and guided you--”
”Oh, no, you don't,” Medart interrupted. ”If there's any chewing out to be done around here, I'll take care of it. You said it yourself: everyone's different, and you're not that familiar with human patterns.
And you've never taught before. You can't be expected to antic.i.p.ate everything at once.”
He gave her a quizzical look that reminded her of their first meeting.
”I hadn't realized how different in some ways, and how similar in others, Irschchans and humans are until your s.h.i.+eld fell. I seemed to almost be you for a couple of seconds, just before you blacked out. I glimpsed a lot of things, but I couldn't understand more than half of them.”
Corina was sitting unsupported now, with Medart squatting on his heels facing her. She stared at him, then started searching intensively through her memories of the last few minutes. Her s.h.i.+eld was still down, and Medart followed her thoughts with no difficulty.
*Eyes closed . . . five minutes, then . . . picture . . . What's he--*
Then an image of herself tangled in an exaggeration of Medart's visualization, a confused jumble that reminded the Ranger of multi-colored spaghetti. She started probing at it, using his actual visualization to guide her as she finally tugged at what appeared to be a key strand. That made the 'spaghetti' disappear, releasing a flood of concept/imagery/experience into her mind, understandable only in fragments that seemed to flow past and through her.
”Pattern rapport,” she breathed in wonder.
”Right, I got that much,” Medart said. ”But what is it? I'm not sure I understand anything about it but its name.”
”It is an extremely unusual stress phenomenon,” Corina said, picking her words with care. ”It occurs when two very similar mind patterns are in close physical proximity and under considerable stress.
Something--the Order is not sure what, but the most respected theory is both underminds acting as one--apparently 'decides' to relieve the stress by combining whatever memories can be used to accomplish that purpose.”
”But aren't human and Irschchan patterns too different for that to happen?” Medart objected. ”That's what you seemed to think earlier, at least.”
”I believed so, yes,” Corina said slowly. ”Yet the Order's millennia of experience cannot be totally wrong. It had to be pattern rapport.”
”Then either human and Irschchan patterns are closer than anyone's ever suspected . . .”
”Or it is our own two basic patterns which are in phase.”
”Uh-huh, that could-- Hey! Remember, I told you I had more trouble reading Sunbeam than I did reading you?”
”That must be the case, then, but I would like to know--” Corina cut that thought off before it could go somewhere she didn't want to follow.
Medart, though he wasn't about to broadcast it, had a pretty good idea what the pattern rapport might mean. He wasn't at all familiar yet with Talent, granted, but he did know what his problem was. Apparently so did what she called her undermind, and it agreed with him. ”I'd suggest a hearty meal and a good night's sleep,” he said. ”That was a shock to both of us, and we'll solve our problems better in the morning, when we've rested and steadied down.”
Corina nodded agreement. ”That sounds most reasonable. We do both need time to integrate the . . . new experiences. I would say you in particular; I at least knew of the possibility, though I never thought it would happen to me.”
Medart chuckled. ”Don't be too sure who needs it more. I've been through something similar--you studied the Sandeman Annexation, of course.”
”Of course,” Corina agreed, puzzled.
”I needed to learn as much as I could about them, as quickly as possible, and Gaelan DarShona, who had sworn personal fealty to Baron Klaes, agreed to a mind-probe. You know about those?”
”I have heard of them,” Corina said. ”An artificial form of telepathy the Order considers repugnant.”
”Close enough. At any rate, I had Gaelan given a deep, full-experience probe, with myself hooked up as the receiver. So I've already 'been'