After several moments' silence, Nevan nodded. "Since you name it both honorable and the best way to prepare for the service I hope to give Ranger Losinj, I will do my best to become such an agent." He paused, went on less formally. "If what you just told me--about field agents having a position of special trust--was known in Subsector Sandeman, any whose identity we knew would be honored, not scorned." "And that's something I hadn't thought of," Medart said. "If you're willing to waive warrior privacy on that part of our discussion, I'll be happy to pass it along to your clan-chief, the Vader, and the Miklos." "It is waived, but only on that part." "Understood, warrior." Medart strongly hoped Nevan would make it through agent's training; outside of the unfortunate but inevitable warrior's tendency to consider combat a preferred option rather than a last resort, he had all the qualifications of a Ranger. Whether Rina accepted his offer of fealty or not, the Empire would have something it'd never managed before: a Ranger-class field agent. That would frighten some people if they ever found out about it, Medart thought, but he found it reassuring--especially since the prospective agent was a Sandeman warrior. "Would you like me to brief you on the training?" Nevan thought for a moment, then shook his head. "I'd rather go in without preconceptions, since you say I'm likely to find parts . . . not intolerable, since I intend to tolerate them, but extremely difficult. The fewer details I know, the fewer contingency plans I'll automatically put together." "That sounds reasonable," Medart agreed. 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." Rina was a year younger than Nevan, but he was on anti-agathics and she couldn't tolerate them; if he didn't get himself killed on the way, he'd probably outlive her by close to two centuries. "Is there anything else?" "No, sir." Nevan stood, bowed. "I thank you for your counsel, Ranger Medart. Gods permitting, I intend to follow it." Medart rose and returned the bow. "May they grant you success in both your training and your offer." Until next time . . . [Preparer's note: This is the end of the main story. The material following this note is the supplementary material linked to from elsewhere in this file.] SELECT It was the end of Test Week at the Academy, almost time for the results to be posted outside the cadet-candidates' dining hall, and all of them were there waiting. The results determined the incoming cadets' initial standings, so James Medart was as eager--and as apprehensive--about them as any of the others.