e Order. Thark is
leading it himself."

Dawson's expression looked to Corina like a combination of astonishment
and disbelief. "Rebellion? The White Order against the whole Empire?
That's impossible."

"I assure you, Major, it is quite possible. Or Thark believes it is,
which is effectively the same thing."

"Um." Dawson was silent for a few seconds, then said, "Well, it sounds
crazy to me, but it isn't something we can risk not checking out." He
holstered the blaster. "The other one, Entos--is he in the Order?"
When Corina nodded, he punched a number on the desk intercom.

"Interrogation, Captain Daley." Corina couldn't see the screen, but it
sounded like a human female. "Oh, hi, Pat. What can I do for you?"

"You could run a mindprobe on the other Irschchan who was brought in.
The one I'm interviewing claims the reason he was trying to kill her
was that he's involved in a treason plot."

"You got it," the woman said grimly. "Do you want yours probed too?"
Dawson thought for a moment, then shook his head. "By the time you're
done, Ranger Medart should be here, and he can make that decision--she
was the one being attacked, so the odds are she's innocent. If that's
wrong, or if the Ranger wants her probed for more information, it can
be done once he's here."

"I copy. I'll let you know what I find out."

"Appreciate it." Dawson broke that connection, immediately punched in
another number.

"Communications, Commspec First Carlson, sir," came the reply.

"This is Major Dawson. Can you get me Ranger Medart, Security
priority?"

"It'll take a couple of minutes, sir. I'll have to patch through the
Chang to his lander."

"That's fine--just do your best."

* * * * *

Ranger James Medart was stretched out on a lawn lounger, basking in the
warmth of Irschcha's sun only meters from the lander that was now
serving him as a vacation cabin. Convalescent leave had its good
points, he thought drowsily. He hadn't been this relaxed since before
the war--and not often then. Laying here in swim trunks, it was hard
to believe he'd been damn near torn in half not much more than two
months ago.

But he had been, trying to help one of the then-enemy, a gray-skinned
Traiti. Oh, well. The war was over, thanks to Steve Tarlac, and the
Traiti were Imperial citizens, while he was supposed to be
concentrating on recovering his strength. He stood, called to the
lander. "I'm going