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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.
I need to know all I can about Talent, especially yours and mine and so far you're the only one I've read." "That is true." Corina thought for a moment, then nodded. "I can monitor, and if you should begin using darlas, protect her. It is a risk, but in this case justifiable." The door signal chimed, and Corina called, "Come in, Sunbeam."
Once we are aboard the lander, however, I will attempt to read Thark; his shield will have to be down for him to work, and he may be distracted enough not to notice so light a touch.* *If it's down, can't you hit him with darlas? You don't need to be in sight of him, from what you said.* *I do not need to be in sight of someone without a shield,* she returned. *That is all I am sure of.
The others will have to be able to see you before they can attack. If we are fortunate, your shields will all be strong enough to deflect such an attack for the two or three seconds necessary to stun them. And the danger from the Sanctioners, who cannot use darlas at all, is purely physical." "That's encouraging," Nevan said. Corina's ears twitched in appreciation of the attempt at humor.
Its reverse would logically be some form of defense, yet that is not the feeling I get. And it would seem redundant, as well, since your shield is a more than adequate defense, even now, against all but the strongest conventional darlas." "Let's go all the way to basics, then. An attack is hostility, intent to cause harm. The reverse of that is good will, intent to help.
As they entered the building, the leader climbed out of the cruiser, clipped his blaster to his belt, and extended a hand to help his trembling prisoner. That was when Corina struck. He had relaxed his shield slightly, thinking her powerless, and she had no trouble stunning him with darlas.
Is that knife the only weapon you plan to carry? You might want to think about something with a little more range.* "I think not," Corina said aloud. "I am not familiar with distance weapons, since I am not a Sanctioner; my darlas should be adequate for anyone I cannot reach physically after this mission, at least." She indicated the weapon at his belt.
"That would be unwise now; it is more of a strain than you realize. No more than two, or at most three brief sessions like that per day, until you gain strength. It would be as well to begin teaching you to use darlas, however. It means going much faster than is usual for this type of training, but our time is limited." "It is that," Medart agreed. "How do I go about darlas?"
She gestured to where Nevan was now standing guard while Medart still knelt, his hands on Kennard's forehead and chest. "He is now using an aspect we never developed. This human is a healer, as well as having considerable darlas." Thark shook his head. "I cannot dispute your word, but it is difficult to accept an idea that seemed impossible even an hour ago.
There was no time to be neat; the Sanctioners used blasters, the Seniors darlas and soul-blades. Thark's fur was splattered with blood by the time he reached the Ranger. Menshikov's gun was coming to bear on him even as Thark used darlas to attack. A Ranger deserved that much of honor, to die with @'s body unmarked. But Menshikov was shielded, impossible as that was!
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