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Nevan felt her attention center on the other. *I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Major,* she sent. *I apologize for any difficulties you experienced as a result of Nevan's pursuit; his purpose, at my request, was to test the security protecting field agents, including his target's self-protection. As you heard, he is satisfied.
So am I, and since you proved able to stop him, I will place a commendation in your records.* *Thank you, sir.* Owajima smiled. *It is good to know our protections are adequate against one of the warrior Nevan's ability; any other, then, could penetrate them only by chance.* *True.* Corina projected amusement. *Are you on assignment?* *No, sir.
*Until then, Thakur.* The contact ended, and Nevan grinned up at his captor. "Satisfied, Major?" "Perfectly, warrior. And I will accept your offer of a ride." Owajima holstered his gun, then undid Nevan's bonds. "I have wished to meet you for some time; I regret only the circumstances." Nevan sat up, rubbing his wrists. "Same here, maybe more so.
The power flowed into and through him, part surrounding him in a silvery glow, part erupting from his hands like emerald blaster bolts. The bolts flared off Nevan's shield, blending in with his counterattack. Medart's shield blazed scarlet, held but he gasped as all-too-familiar pain shot through him.
That, and the fact that a Sandeman hired killer shouldn't display the subtleties and precautions that would mark him as having had Imperial training of any sort, particularly a field agent's training; the two simply didn't go together. A tall man in Marine service dress with captain's bars approached Nevan's table, carrying a drink. "Mind if I join you, warrior?" he asked. "If you wish, Captain."
His first son, with the lady Dallas, was doing well in his warrior training, though both he and his half-brother Nevan's with the lady Morna, who looked more than a little smug, telling him were giving Sean and Ellen fits trying to keep up.
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."
She wished she could read his thoughts, but after the first mention of fighting, she had no doubt of his answer; not even Marine discipline could make him hold back a smile, and his eagerness was evident in his steel-gray eyes. "I believe that is everything," she said at last. "The choice is yours, and you may refuse without prejudice." For Nevan's opinion of this, see NEVAN "No, sir.
"Yes, sir." Hobison left, going to the lander's controls. Corina took another look at Nevan, then sighed a human mannerism, but one that seemed appropriate. "I suppose I should return to my observations." "It would help to know what he's up to," Medart said. "First, though, I think you ought to check out Nevan's shield. It seems battleprep makes a difference in Talent strength, too."
They entered the lander and Corina strapped herself into a seat tightly, remembering Medart's caution about Nevan's battleprepped piloting then she made herself relax, closing her eyes, and reached tentatively for Thark's mind-pattern, ready to pull back at the first hint that he detected her touch. They were nearing the Sentinel Mountains before Thark began slowing the Prowler.
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