. . . cat-and-mouse . . .
oh, hell!

"What is it, Ranger?" There had been a flash, an instant of touch too
fast for her to grasp and expand, then nothing.

"This isn't going to work, and I think I know what the problem is.
Every time I try to relax, I see those four Marines stunned on the deck
and the other one with your knife at his throat."

"So your undermind considers me dangerous, is trying to protect you
from that. Yes, that is reasonable." Corina thought for a moment. "I
seemed to get the impression of memory-smell, though I cannot be sure.
And perhaps of a small feline. When MacLeod discovered Irschcha, he
thought of us at first as 'overgrown pussycats', and other humans
seemed to agree. Perhaps if you thought of me as some sort of domestic
pet?"

Medart considered that idea, then chuckled. "I used to raise Siamese
cats, and you Irschchans do remind me of them. It's worth a try."

Kimi and Saren, his first pair. Not Saren, who'd been on the blocky
side for a Siamese; young Losinj was more like Kimi, slender and
incredibly graceful. She'd climb up on his lap, butt his chin with her
head to demand that he scratch behind her ears . . .

Corina, observing carefully, felt his shield start to weaken. That
continued until she was able to catch a mental picture of herself, with
parts of her fur more deeply colored, curled up on the Ranger's lap and
purring with contentment while he gently scratched behind her ears.

She echoed his amusement silently, then began examining his mind
pattern. She was careful not to let him realize what she was doing,
though she was reasonably sure he could not feel her check. That was
both quick and thorough, his mental "atmosphere" far less murky than
the other humans she had touched--and his patterns were clear as well,
easy to read and work with. His Talent was unmistakable--his potential
Talent, she corrected herself; he might not be able to learn its use.

She could at least try activating his latent telepathic ability. That
might be somewhat delicate, given his humanity, but with such clear
patterns, it should not be particularly difficult. She knew the
theory, and Thark had done the same for her; it was merely a matter of
redirecting the mental impulses of communication from the speech center
to the TP center, something she ought to be able to do without him even
realizing the change was being made.

*That is a little better,* she thought at him while preten