taking her soul-blade and its sheath from her
belt, and scanned for other presences as she would if she were entering
hostile territory. Despite the distractions of the crowd, she quickly
sensed her five opponents--and got an unpleasant shock. Three were
totally unshielded, and Dawson's screen was so weak it would offer him
no protection--but the fifth had a shield as tight as any she'd ever
felt. She shook her head in brief amazement. Four shielded humans in
the perhaps three hundred she had mind-touched since coming aboard, and
Thark insisted he had met no Talented humans? But then the Emperor-class
cruisers did have elite crews, and three of the four were Command
level--that must be significant, somehow.

But this was no time to worry about theory. She had been almost right
about her opponents' formation; two were coming down secondary
passages, the fifth--the shielded one, and she learned from Dawson that
he was the Sandeman--was coming down the main corridor. There was no
way she could defeat them conventionally, but she had known that from
the beginning--and this was to be a demonstration of the Order's
potential; her Talent, not her blade-work, was necessary. So she
should try for the standard humans first, with darlas.

In training she'd always been able to see, as well as sense, her
opponents; although she had been told her Talent, like Thark's, was
strong enough to make visual contact unnecessary, she wasn't sure she
could concentrate well enough without it. Considering the
circumstances, however, it was worth trying; she chose Dawson, focusing
her Talent on him with what felt like the right degree of intensity to
knock him out for roughly an hour.

To her surprise and satisfaction, her attack was just as effective and
noticeably less difficult than in her practice sessions; she sensed the
flash of Dawson's pain, then his loss of consciousness. It was easy to
repeat the process with the unshielded three, and it was good to know
that her training had been so effective--but she knew her most
dangerous opponent remained. And even Thark's darlas couldn't penetrate
a shield that strong, which left TK, weak as hers was, her only real
weapon.

She waited tensely, a meter back from the main passageway, as he
approached. He was quiet, his steps barely audible, but she didn't
need that to place his relative position. He stopped just short of the
cross corridor, then entered swiftly, in a crouch, his stunn