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Updated: June 27, 2025
A Ranger's interference, especially this early, could be disastrous! "Ranger Medart's orders, Master. He is on convalescent leave, recuperating from the injuries he sustained just prior to the end of the war. He did not wish to be bothered by official functions." "If he is injured," Thark said thoughtfully, "he should be no problem to eliminate." "I said he is recuperating," Kainor corrected.
"All his people are top caliber, or they wouldn't be on this ship and one of them, Ranger Medart's bodyguard, is a Sandeman warrior." "Any selected for this vessel's Marine contingent would be formidable, I know," Corina said, "particularly one of that race's warriors.
In my universe under these circumstances, he'd be the one to call as soon as I made it to the top of his priority list; would that be safe to assume here?" "Yes, sir, I believe so." "Okay." Medart's attention went back to Chavvorth.
The standard conference table and the holo stage were gone, replaced by a semi-circular table. Its flat side had been put against the wall, just under a screen that was normally used to display graphic aids. Chairs lined the curved edge, already occupied by the officers who had been at the earlier meeting. Greggson had somehow arrived before her, and was seated two places to Medart's left.
They wouldn't continue the war; honor wouldn't permit that. But that still left two possibilities. They might pull back and refuse all further contact, or Medart's earnest hope they might decide to give the Empire the benefit of their improvements, and join it. Here, they'd be a full Sector probably the biggest one, Medart thought, and certainly the strongest. "Ready," Ryan said.
Medart's night was equally disturbed, though since Corina was younger and had had a more peaceful life, his dreams were less troubling. He saw/was Corina, about seven years old Standard, receiving her soul-blade from an elderly Order initiate in a ritual as old as the Order itself.
One of our ancient poets wrote, `The best laid plans of mice and men gang aft a-gley, and he was right." "That was Robert Burns," Corina said. "One of your early scientists put the same idea another way: `Anything that can go wrong will go wrong." She felt Medart's surprise at the identification and quote. "I was not probing; Terran poetry interests me, particularly Burns, Service, and Kipling.
Until they stood to leave, nobody paid any particular attention to Corina; it wasn't surprising that Medart's special assistant should join him at a meal. When they did stand, however, Commander Pappas gave an exclamation of surprise, and the room grew silent. That didn't last long; the murmur of conversation resumed, but now, from what Corina could hear, with herself as the subject.
"If you're trying to make me feel guilty," Ariel said, "you're too late. As soon as I saw your broadcast of his duel and the mercy Clan-chief Ryan gave him, I contacted His Majesty; I'll be delivering Ranger Medart's belongings and your tape personally to his Emperor and I will remain in Alpha Prime to take his place.
She knew, as did everyone, about Rangers in general that they were the Sovereign's representatives, wielding Imperial authority at need but she had to know about this specific one. Dawson, unfortunately, knew little. Although he did serve aboard Medart's cruiser, he was not very familiar with the Command Crew or Ranger.
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