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Updated: June 17, 2025
Seconds later, the man's eyes opened and he groaned. "Are you done yet?" "Yes. You may get dressed and leave. I would advise you to waste no time; liftoff is in ten minutes." "I'll be gone." The man struggled to his feet and into the small 'fresher, where Nevan had had him leave his clothing; less than two minutes later he was leaving the ship. Nevan had his flight plan ready by then.
The other sat, looking him over; Nevan returned the scrutiny, waiting. "I'm Kim Johansen, of SecuDiv," the Marine said at last. "You're Vance DarLowrie, just in on the Last Resort?" Nevan nodded. "I am, Captain Johansen. What of it?" "If you're what rumor calls you and your ship's name implies, I'd advise you to lay low. The Baron here takes a dim view of assassins."
"A call from the Planetary Palace, sir, security priority. Major Dawson is on the screen." "Damn. All right." Security priority was never good news; Medart wondered just how bad it was this time. He accepted the towel Nevan was holding out, began drying himself as he went to the lander and climbed in.
Thank all the gods, Sandeman duels were to disablement or conclusive advantage; he didn't think he'd be capable of killing or trying to kill a man he knew as one of the Empire's best defenders. "This one is Nevan only," Ryan agreed. "His face shows he has never sworn personal fealty or won the right to use his thakur's name.
He knew precisely how good Nevan was at both conventional and psionic combat; since he'd been chosen as the Sandeman champion for this duel, there was every reason to believe he was just as good at magical combat. And Medart could remember thinking, the first time he saw Nevan battleprepped, how much he'd hate to be on the receiving end of the younger man's skills.
Nevan was certain in his own mind that if he failed, she would see that the agent got the weapons intended for him, but his thakur's overt reason for agreeing was that it would make a good test of IntelDiv's security. If he were arrested, she would have him released and commend the people who had done it; if he got through, she would have security procedures tightened.
"He spends half his free time in combat exercises of one sort or another, after all, not just the minimums for on-duty training. It's not as good as combat, to their way of thinking, but it's better than what we standard humans class as normal entertainment." The two were silent then, for the couple of minutes it took Nevan to run out of arrows and signal the target controller to end the session.
Especially since a warrior's contingency plans tended to be violent . . . "Do you have any idea when you plan to offer fealty?" "I was thinking of about five years," Nevan said. "I do want as much experience as I can get, and that's not a lot but her people are allergic to the anti-agathics, so I don't dare wait too long." "True. I'd say that was a reasonable compromise."
As soon as the rest were out of the way, Medart began leading the other two through the Palace's private section. Nevan would have been better at point, but he couldn't know this part of the Palace "Down!" Medart dropped automatically, heard a stun-bolt go by overhead, and saw a gray-kilted Irschchan fall two corridors ahead. "You okay, Rina?" "I am fine."
He "heard" the amused purr that was the Irschchan version of a laugh. *A return to the field work you enjoy so must be a terrible sacrifice, my Nevan.* Nevan let his thoughts lapse into High War Speech, chuckling. *Nay, Thakur, as thou knowest well save that it does mean I must conceal thy mark, lest it identify me and make thy object in this attempt no true test.*
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