“What about them?”
Talia started to say that Commander Sinclair would have gotten the ambassadors to come, but she squelched that thought before it left her lips. Odd, she mused, how you didn’t notice certain qualities in people until they were gone. On the face of it, Captain Sheridan was a cultured, charming man; but underneath he was intractable, like a sword in a supple leather scabbard. Commander Sinclair had been intractable on the surface, but underneath he was open-minded, ready to sympathize and take risks. Perhaps too ready.
The captain gave her a pleasant smile. “Are you scanning me?”
“No,” she said defensively. “But I was comparing you to Commander Sinclair. I’m sorry.”
Sheridan nodded. “That’s understandable. When I came here, I was surprised to learn how popular my predecessor was. On Earth, they said he was crazy, a loose cannon, but here people thought he was a saint. Now compare that with the way General George Armstrong Custer was perceived during the conquest of North America. His commanders in Washington thought he was brilliant, but in the field, everybody knew he was crazy.”
“Perceptions are not what they seem,” remarked Talia. “That’s why we need telepaths.”
“You’ve never regretted joining Psi Corps?”
“No,” she answered, taken aback by the very idea. “Do you regret the training you had? Does a musical prodigy regret his musical training? We are seeing the emergence of a new talent in thousands of people, and it must be nurtured and regulated. Psi Corps is everything anyone could hope it would be.”
“But Psi Corps has become an issue,” the captain declared. “People fear it, people discuss it. People try to stop it. My predecessor at this station became an issue, and that’s what ultimately hurt him. That’s where I’m different—I want my presence here to be neutral, just enough to make the station run efficiently. So don’t expect me to go overboard, on anything.”
“Understood,” said Talia. “I sincerely appreciate your cooperation on this conference. However, Captain, I don’t think that Psi Corps can take a backseat any longer. We have a certain destiny to fill, and we need to be up-front about it.”
Sheridan nodded thoughtfully. “I would suggest you remember one thing, Ms. Winters—when you’re up-front, they’ll shoot at you first.”
Talia nodded curtly and stared down the walkway at the closed air-lock. On the eve of this important conference, she didn’t need to hear ominous warnings from her Station commander. On the other band, it was evident that they wouldn’t be here if terrorists hadn’t bombed that Martian hotel. Was Sheridan trying to tell her the same thing Garibaldi had been trying to tell her? Keep it safe. Keep it low-key.
Talia had been thinking just the opposite. She wanted to show the world that Psi Corps was more than a few failed cases of telepaths gone rogue, or sleepers getting depressed. Psi Corps meant commerce, diplomacy, military preparedness, and, yes, a more efficient government. Telepaths had their place everywhere, in every endeavor. That was the message she wanted the conference to spread.
But maybe Sheridan was right. Talia often ignored the backlash against Psi Corps as being mere jealousy from the mundanes. Perhaps it was more ingrained than that—perhaps people really did want to stop them. Although she didn’t agree with Captain Sheridan, she would heed his warning. The affair would be low-key, manageable, without controversy. Maybe it would even be slightly boring.
Sheridan’s link chimed, and he lifted his hand to answer it. “Yes?”
“Captain,” said Ivanova, “transport Freya has just docked. Your party should be disembarking any moment.”
“Thank you, Commander. Any word from the ambassadors about our invitation?”
“No, sir.”
“Sheridan out.” He lowered his hand, looked at Talia, and shrugged. “I did invite the ambassadors to attend the reception tomorrow night. But I never know what they’ll do. If you would like to talk to them …”
Talia shook her head and smiled. “No, Captain, let’s keep it low-key, shall we?”
He nodded. “I agree.”
The air-lock opened, and a man in a black uniform strode off the dock and down the walkway. He was followed by a slight man, who looked expectantly around the docking area, as if he was looking for someone. A handful of other passengers followed, and a few of them were also wearing Psi Corps insignia. None but Mr. Bester wore the black uniform of the Psi Police.
“Captain Sheridan,” said Bester as he produced his identicard. “Congratulations on your new command.”
“Thank you, Mr. Bester.”
The security guard nervously finished with Mr. Bester and sent him on his way. “Ms. Winters,” said the Psi Cop with a nod.
She smiled. “Mr. Bester.”
Talia was waiting for Bester to scan somebody, anybody, because he hardly needed any preparation. He did it with as much effort as it took to brush the lint off one’s sleeve. Plus, he had the authority to cut corners, which usually meant that he took what information he needed, from wherever it was in people’s minds. But the famed Psi Cop was on his best behavior; he waited patiently for the other members of his party to be checked through.
“Mr. Gray, how are you?” Captain Sheridan called to the young man in a chummy tone.
The military liaison stopped looking around long enough to smile. “I’m fine, Captain, thank you. Let me also congratulate you on your new post. Everyone at headquarters is pulling for you.”
Bester looked at the telepath with amusement on his ageless face. “Come now, Gray, not everyone. You were thinking about a certain general, for instance.”
Gray bristled. “I don’t believe I was. Excuse me, Captain, but where is Commander Ivanova?”
“Busy,” snapped Sheridan. “You won’t be seeing much of her, I’m afraid.”
Talia looked away from the flustered Mr. Gray to see who else from Psi Corps had arrived on the Freya. There was a small, dark-skinned woman, who fumbled with her identicard. Instead of her making the guard nervous, the guard was apparently making her nervous. Behind her, waiting patiently, stood a tall man with a professorial air to him, no doubt helped by his graying goatee. He looked older than the last photograph she had seen of him, but there was no mistaking the profound intelligence in his sad, dark eyes.
“Mr. Malten?” she asked.
He smiled apologetically but boyishly. “Pardon me, but I’m terrible with names. Isn’t that an awful thing for a telepath to admit?”
“Not at all,” she said, extending a gloved hand, “because we’ve never met. I’m Talia Winters, resident telepath on B5.”
The guard motioned Malten through as quickly as he could, so that he could complete their handshake. The distinguished telepath was beaming. “I was hoping I would run into you right away, Ms. Winters! May I present my associate, Emily Crane. She’ll be assisting you this week.”
The small, dark-skinned woman held out her gloved hand, and Talia took it. “Very p-pleased to meet you,” stammered Emily.
Talia smiled. “Likewise.” If it hadn’t been for the Psi Corps insignia on Emily Crane’s collar, Talia would never have guessed she was a telepath. She barely seemed the type who could tie her own shoelaces.
“Yes,” said Malten, “I’m turning Emily over to you. You’ll find her quite a whiz with newsletters, press releases, and such. I always find that a conference goes better when there are plenty of newsletters to keep everyone abreast of changes. Don’t you?”
“Oh, yes,” agreed Talia.
Malten smiled proudly at the tiny woman. “Emily’s real job is chief copywriter for our firm.”
Our firm, Talia repeated to herself. It was amazing how blithely Malten could refer to Earth’s biggest and most prestigious conglomerate of commercial telepaths. The Mix, as it was known across the galaxy, had offices in virtually every corner of the Alliance, and on some nonaligned worlds.
Talia turned to Emily. “I’ve been reading about telepathic copywriting. How does that work?”
“Well,” said Emily, “say the client has an advertising campaign in mind, but they c-can’t express it in words. Or it’s only half-formed in their minds. We d-do a scan. We learn what they really want, even when they don’t know what they really want.” She grinned, happy to have gotten that speech out.
“Yes,” said Malten, “we started out thinking we could do the finished ads in-house, but it turned out to be more cost-effective to contract our services directly to the ad agencies. By the end of the year, we’ll have seven branch offices doing nothing but this.”