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More, he understood why those safeguards wouldn't be relaxed even to allow an ex-agent to search out a still-active one but he had what he considered two excellent reasons to do exactly that. The first was that his bio-father had died, and had wanted Nevan to give the anonymous agent his personal weapons: two forearm throwing knives, a belt knife, and a needler.
Had you been the enemy I originally thought, by now you would have been dead and your ship confiscated for my trip, to be turned in to the Navy at the Antarctica base. My things are already aboard." Nevan chuckled. "Good thinking. Unnecessary, since this baby already belongs to the Navy, but I like the plan."
"I am not available at the moment." "You have other employment?" "That's none of your concern." The businesser sat. "It is if your target is Kiyoshi Owajima, as I've heard. I have reason to want him . . . out of the picture." "Oh?" Nevan remained noncommittal, but allowed himself to show a trace of interest. "I understand he's an Imperial officer a dangerous target.
"They are unconscious and they will have painful headaches when they wake, but other than that, they are fine." "Only because it was an exercise, I'd say." Nevan picked up the powerpack, replaced it in the stunner, and holstered his weapon. "May I ask a tactical question?" "Of course." "In that case, why did you knock them out and simply remove the power-pack from my stunner?
Medart strongly hoped Nevan would make it through agent's training; outside of the unfortunate but inevitable warrior's tendency to consider combat a preferred option rather than a last resort, he had all the qualifications of a Ranger. Whether Rina accepted his offer of fealty or not, the Empire would have something it'd never managed before: a Ranger-class field agent.
An indignant Mother: *Trade vegetables for kilts indeed! This is no back-country village * She sat up again suddenly, and again the voice disappeared as she tensed. This couldn't be one of Lovad's jokes, not with her mother involved. It had to be telepathy . . . and that meant she did have Talent . . . and that meant . . . As she explained, Nevan could feel himself beginning to smile.
"We didn't want to draft anyone, but you were pushing us so hard we didn't see any alternative you'd already cost us half our Rangers and best magicians." "That's no excuse," Nevan said. "What if his own universe needed him, perhaps to fight the Ravagers he told us about? What if it needs him in the future, after you brought him here to his death?"
That should have been frightening, but Nevan couldn't help grinning; the feel of air on his cheek instead of synthiskin agreed with the tiny indications he could read from his captor. Owajima was disciplined, beautifully so, but not well enough to hide everything. "I'm honored to meet you, Colonel Owajima.
Nevan chuckled, deciding that an hour or so shouldn't really make any difference. "I'd like that; thanks." The receiver in Owajima's ear chimed softly; he turned on his throat mike not the surgically implanted comm unit many ranking Imperials were given, but the external type used as far back as pre-atomic times and answered. "Owajima here."
Corina lost contact as the lander lurched, making its firing pass over Prowler, and then made a fast landing. She was out of her seat almost as quickly as Nevan, though he beat her to the door. As soon as all were outside, she said, "Our countdown starts now. Go!" She was badly disturbed by the bodies littering the landing pad.
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