I know," Corina said, "particularly one of that race's warriors. But I
still believe the demonstration necessary; if one who is yet a student
can make a respectable showing against such, then you will take more
seriously those who are long-experienced in the use of their greater
Talent."

"Can't argue that," Hobison said. "But I don't envy you the
demonstration, Sir Corina."

All except the Ranger agreed aloud. He agreed privately as well, but
wanted to give her the best chance possible, which meant not
discouraging her before she even got started. And she was right; the
demonstration, whatever its outcome, would be valuable. "Greggson's
had time to call his people together," he said at last. "Let's get to
the gym."

Medart spent the shuttle trip unobtrusively studying the young
Irschchan. She'd certainly been handed a rough deal, he thought
sympathetically. He might not share her telepathic Talent, but he
could make an educated guess about how she felt. Betrayed by her
teacher, attacked and almost killed, then drafted and hauled into a
whole new kind of life . . . she couldn't be exactly comfortable about
the whole thing, but she was reacting better than he could've
expected--well enough that he'd rate her adaptability level the equal
of a Ranger's, which was a promising sign. She'd make out all right,
whether she met Ranger standards all the way or not.

Corina's self-evaluation was less optimistic. She was managing to keep
up a good front somehow, she thought, since she didn't care to let
strangers know just how overwhelmed she felt by the day's happenings.
At the moment she was going strictly on stubbornness, and was just
hoping that would last long enough for her to adapt to this totally
unfamiliar existence.

IV

By the time they got to the gym, it had been set up for the
demonstration; it held a translucent-walled structure that Corina
recognized from descriptions as a combat practice module, its walls
opaque from the inside. To her dismay, there was an audience; off-duty
crewwens lined the gym walls. An audience, she thought, was the last
thing she needed now--but there was no help for it; she would simply
have to do her best in spite of them.

Then she saw Greggson and five others in Marine black standing slightly
apart from the spectators. She recognized Dawson, and three of the
others were as big--but the fifth, little taller than Corina herself
and seemingly as slight of build, s