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Be sure to emphasize, please, that we will be checking only for shields; their private lives will remain their own." "Jim?" Hobison looked startled. "What's this all about? You mean you've got Talent like hers?" "Uh-huh." Medart was purposely informal, trying to ease Hobison's obvious shock. "You'd already left when I told His Majesty.
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."
Hobison's, they already knew, was adequate, and Corina was less than enthusiastic about meeting Greggson again, so they decided to check with the young Sandeman first. His shield was strong, she knew from the demonstration, and she knew his pattern from the combat demonstration, which made it a simple matter to touch him, find someone nearby, and let Medart identify his location.
Ray Kennard had come up with an idea that might keep imprisoned Traiti alive, at least long enough to be questioned before they succumbed to the prisoner psychosis that so inevitably killed the ones who could be kept from suicide. He'd gone with the boarding party despite Hobison's objections. He'd seen his first live Traiti then, with its leathery gray skin and sharklike face.
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