Chapter 10

"No!" Again, Odeon's intensity startled both of them. "Compulsion is Shannon's way, not God's. He'll guide and help us as long as we're willing to accept His backing, but He won't go beyond that unless we specifically ask Him to." He managed a grin. "Which I did, back at the White Fathers' monastery. And I think He just took me up on it, because I'd never argue a lawful order on my own."

"I know--I think that's what shocked me most," Cortin said. "But . . . Mike, you're scaring me. Sure, Azrael's good--we picked the best. And he was telling the truth when he said Shannon was afraid of me, though I can't imagine why, if he is Shayan. Dear God, Mike, we're only human!"

"Humans have been known to work wonders, with God's help," Odeon pointed out. "Though I have to admit I'm not too thrilled about going up against His Infernal Majesty myself."

"But we both will if we have to. We all will." Cortin shuddered. "And we'd better be in a state of grace when we do, because we're not going to have much of a chance of coming out alive." She took a deep breath, exhaled slowly. "But that's a good idea any time, and I'd rather think Shannon's just a particularly nasty human. Under Shayan's influence, of course, but not supernatural himself."

"So would I. God willing, that's how it'll work out."

* * * * *

It was still a couple of hours before dark when they got to the retreat's main guard post. Cortin was surprised when a lieutenant emerged to check their identification and authorization, until he told her that Crown Prince Edward and Princess Ursula were in residence, and went on, "Colonel Bradford and Inquisitor-Major Illyanov are in Their Highness' party, and asked whoever met you to extend their regards. They would like to see you when you get a chance; they're billeted in the Manor, but we were told you and your team need privacy, so you're assigned a field-type shelter we use when there're too many security people here for normal quarters. I hope that'll be satisfactory."

"A shelter is fine, thanks," Cortin said. Better, in fact, than the Manor--for her, at least. Being loaned a corner of a royal retreat was an honor, but she was certain she'd be horribly uncomfortable in the actual presence of royalty. Seeing Illyanov and Bradford again would be nice, though--especially Ivan, and especially if the surgery worked, though she was reluctant to admit an Inquisitor had that kind of attraction for her. "I do need a couple of things, if they're possible?"

"My pleasure, Team-Leader. What can we do for you?"

"Take care of these spare horses, and see about picking up and identifying some bodies." Cortin gave him a brief explanation, and a description of the location.

"I know where you mean," the Lieutenant said. "I'll be happy to see to both. Is there anything else?"

"No, except where this shelter is." She paused, realizing she was forgetting something. "Lieutenant Bain plans to conduct an interrogation of our prisoner, probably within the next couple of days. We certainly don't want to disturb Their Highnesses, though; is there someplace remote we can use?"

"The shelter is about a kilometer from the Manor, Captain; standard procedures will be fine." The Lieutenant turned back to the guardhouse and called inside; seconds later, a sergeant emerged. "Sergeant Halvorsen will guide you, then take the spare horses to the main stable. If you don't mind him using one of them?"

"Of course not. Glad to meet you, Sergeant."

"My pleasure, ma'am." Halvorsen saluted; when she returned it, he mounted one of the spare horses and led them another half-dozen kilometers, past immaculate lawns and formal gardens, to a shelter that looked odd because it was covered in multi-colored climbing roses. "Here you are, Captain," he said with a smile. "Enjoy your stay."

"Thank you, Sergeant." Cortin dismounted as he left, leading her horse into the shelter's stable. She needed help unsaddling--her back wouldn't let her do it by herself any longer--but once that was done, she was able to care for and feed Rainbow alone. She wouldn't mind having the gelding as a permanent mount as long as she was stationed at Middletown; he did have a smooth gait, even though she couldn't appreciate it properly any longer, and he was beautifully responsive to reins, knees, or voice. Once the Strike Force was activated, maybe she would lay claim to him.

When they got into the shelter proper, Degas began fixing supper. That, like clean-up, was normally done by turns, but he'd volunteered for the job--he claimed in self-defense--any time they were in the field. No one argued, after Pritchett had challenged him to show why; he could do wonders with shelter rations, and was the only human Cortin knew who could actually make trail rations into something you didn't mind eating.

A knock on the door brought them all alert, though none were anticipating trouble here; as Cortin had half expected, what they got was company for supper, in the persons of Bradford and Illyanov. She was glad to see them, and even more pleased that they settled into the team's non-regulation informality as if it were a group of Inquisitors like the one at the Eagle's Nest.

She saw Bradford's look of pleased surprise at her men's gloves, and his slow smile of approval. "I see Team Azrael has decided on a trademark. Did you by any chance leave a glove with the remains of your attackers?"

Not at all surprised that they'd heard the story so quickly, Cortin nodded. "Yes--it seemed like a good idea. Shouldn't we have?"

"That's your option, as Team-Leader. Leaving a token that way will gain your team a reputation, which can be helpful at times--but it'll also make you targets. So I'm leaving the choice, as I said, to the Team-Leaders."

"We'll talk about it, then," Cortin said, a bit disturbed. "Personal notoriety for Inquisitor Azrael will be useful--but I've discovered I'm no longer one of the Brothers' targets, though Lieutenant Chang is at the top of their list. I will not turn the rest of my team into special targets without their consent."

Bradford looked incredulous. "You're not a target? I find that hard to believe."

"One of the Brother casualties lived long enough to talk." She explained, including Chang's conviction about Shannon's identity--leaving out only Degas' youthful indiscretion--watching the Colonel's face.

After a brief silence, Bradford nodded. "I've heard similar opinions, though I'm not sure I believe them either. In that case, your team may choose."

"Anyone else with an Inquisitor's badge is automatically at the top of the Brothers' target list," Bain pointed out. "Me, I'll take any advantage I can get to balance that. Though if we keep on at this rate, we may all go broke buying gloves."

"Requisition them as team equipment," Bradford said. "Team Flame has already put one in for candles."

"I like the idea," Odeon said thoughtfully. "Anyone on a Strike Team, not just the Inquisitors, is going to be a prime target as soon as we go public. So I agree with Dave--we might as well take the advantages with the dangers."

"I didn't join Special Ops or the Strike Force for safety and security," Degas agreed. "I'm for it."

"Same here," "And I also," came simultaneously from Pritchett and Chang.

"I'd say that settles that," Cortin said, gratified. "Shall we eat, gentles?"

That suggestion got hearty approval, and the men served themselves while Cortin gave her mug of broth a disgruntled look.

"Looking forward to some solid food?" Bradford asked, grinning. "Oh, I've cleared Ivan for this experiment, since I could see how close you two got while he was training you."

"Um." Cortin looked from him to Illyanov, whose attempt at an innocent look might possibly have fooled a two-year-old, then back. So Ivan wanted in too, did he? Well, she certainly didn't have any objection! "Yes, I am," she said. "Right now, I'm not sure whether I'm looking forward more to that, or to being able to have sex again. I suppose I'll find out when I'm able to have both."

That got chuckles, and Chang smiled. "I will make sure you are nourished well enough that you can make your choice without concern for your strength."

Cortin bowed in her direction. "Thanks, Sis. That should make it fair enough . . . as long as I'm not asked to choose between a chocolate eclair and one of you ready for action. In that case, I'd probably try for both at once."

"No chocolate eclairs, then," Odeon said promptly. "The other I won't promise."

Cortin almost choked on her broth, but managed to bring herself under control. "I wouldn't put it past any of you gentlemen, and I can't think of anything nicer to wake up to--but any sedative strong enough to knock me out under algetin won't leave me able to do any of us much good for . . . how long, Sis? About a day?"

"Considerably less than that, I should say," Chang replied. "I will discontinue the algetin only when I am convinced you are completely healed, and the sedative I will use will fade into a natural sleep. When you wake from that, you should be fully recovered and capable of any exertions you care to make."

"Better than I thought, then. When do you plan to operate?"

"Tomorrow morning," Bradford answered for the medic. "I've had what would be the armory in a real shelter set up for the operation. You should be on your feet again within a week."

9. Surgery

Shannon fumed in helpless anger. The first direct attack on Cortin's new team--one he admitted to himself shouldn't have been made, but that he'd found irresistible--had been a total disaster. The troopers had been outnumbered more than two to one, yet they had still routed his men, as far as he knew taking no casualties while claiming eight kills. Worse, he'd had to let one of his own go before death. It was always unpleasant to lose someone useful, and when that one was sworn to him, it was humiliating as well.

Worse, though, was his near-certainty of why Cortin and her people would be taking another of his to a remote security area, when that one was a near-perfect medical match. Restoring Cortin's sexual function, and the use she would make of it, would cause severe and possibly critical damage to the use he had been making--and intended to continue making, if she didn't reclaim it--of human sexuality. Especially the new virus-enhanced version, which offered such delicious possibilities if properly redirected and emotionally loaded.

Was there anything he could do to prevent it? Degas, a former Brother--though unfortunately too young then to be properly sworn to him--was on Cortin's team. It was possible he could be blackmailed into cooperating . . . though that would mean using his power, since security at a Royal retreat was so tight. Cortin would have to be sedated for the surgery, maybe for part of her recovery time as well, and it should be safe enough to use them while she was drugged. If he only knew when she'd be under!

But without that knowledge, he decided regretfully, it would be wiser to refrain. The Adversary had pointed out that timing was crucial; he simply dared not take the risk of rousing Cortin's power too early.

* * * * *

Friday, 28 Feb 2572

Odeon was sitting beside the heavily sedated Cortin, stroking the hand without tubes, when Bradford entered the shelter. He started to rise, but settled back at Bradford's gesture. "Yes, Colonel?"

"Brad, please." Bradford looked at the woman for some time, then he turned his attention back to the scar-faced man who was her second in command. "You've known and loved her for years, Mike. So will you please tell me why in God's name the most talented Inquisitor I've ever seen won't take a nice, safe, productive assignment at the New Denver Detention Center where the most difficult cases can be referred to her?"

"I thought you wanted her in the field!" Odeon exclaimed.

"Dear God, no! If I had my way, she'd be at the Center with all the medical and professional support I could provide, not out in the field getting shot at, torturing herself by making her back trouble worse, and wasting her talents on criminals a second-semester student could handle. If I try to keep her there, though, I'm afraid I'll lose her--she's never said it in so many words, but if I read her right, she'd go rogue rather than give up her hunt for the Shannons."

"I think so too," Odeon said. "She wants revenge, and I can't blame her. So I'll help her, and protect her as well as I can . . . and so will the rest of Team Azrael."

"And any other Enforcement man who's been around her for long," Bradford said drily. "Interrogation isn't her only talent, I've discovered. She doesn't know about it, I found when I debriefed her--I can't help wondering if you've noticed."

"Noticed what?" Odeon asked, puzzled.

"How people, men especially, react to her."

Odeon chuckled. "That? That's easy! She's an Enforcement officer, so civs are apprehensive about her--more than they are of us, but until Sis came aboard she was the only woman officer. And our people like her, probably for the same reason."

"Your observations are accurate, of course--I'd expect that, from a Tracker. But not completely so, since I have yet to find an Enforcement trooper, officer or enlisted, who's been around her for more than a short time and only likes her. To the best of my research, any trooper who's spent as little as ten or fifteen minutes with her has fallen in love. I used to believe it was because of sex--you know how generous she was with herself--but since her maiming, I found that theory was wrong." He grimaced. "The effect isn't even conscious, much less deliberate. When I went in to debrief her, I thought it would be routine, and that I was braced against anything she might try. But she didn't, and I wasn't--by the time I left, I was in love with her, and so was every man on my team. I can't claim I don't feel any sexual attraction for her, because I most definitely do, even though I'm a happily married man with a child. But my primary feeling for her is protectiveness, and I understand that's how the rest feel. Including," he grimaced again, "Major Illyanov, the entire Inquisitorial staff of the Detention Center, one clerk-private, and the proprietor of the Eagle's Nest. Probably others as well."

"Mmm . . . that fits." Odeon hadn't thought about it that way, but now that Bradford had pointed it out, it did fit. The team's degree of protectiveness toward their commanding officer and their concern with how she came through the operation were both unusually strong; it was good to have an explanation. Especially one that also explained Bradford's presence--and Illyanov's, since he wouldn't normally be a member of a Royal party. "I hadn't realized, but you're right. So what do we do about it?"

"Damned if I know," Bradford said. "There's probably nothing that can be done, since she's not doing it either deliberately or knowingly. I mentioned it to you primarily because you're her second and need to be aware of that effect. It could be useful--at least if a young civ falls in love with her, you'll know to send him to a recruiter!"

Odeon chuckled. "True--too bad all recruiters don't have a method that effective. It would've saved me a lot of time, when I had that duty."

"It would save the Service a lot of time, too, getting rid of ones who don't work out," Bradford agreed. "If she weren't such an incredibly talented Inquisitor, I'd want her on that duty--though she'd have to have a partner who could tell when it happened, because as I said, she doesn't know she's doing it."

Odeon frowned. "Do we want her to know? I don't like keeping things from her, but offhand I'd say she's better off thinking it's normal comradeship, with her back trouble as an explanation for any help or protection out of the ordinary."

"Which is what I was working around to asking you," Bradford said. "If you think that's best, we'll keep it between the two of us."

"Us and the team," Odeon corrected, "so they don't mention it by mistake. No one else is likely to say they love an Inquisitor, even if it's true. I know I'd never dare."

"Did you tell her before she got her Warrant?"

"No--she never seemed to want that kind of tie, so I didn't burden her with it." Odeon frowned briefly, then smiled. "Fortunately for me--and the rest of us, I guess--she doesn't need that to make love to us."

"I've heard," Bradford said appreciatively. "As well for you--us, if she's willing to go outside her team--that she doesn't put a daily limit on herself."

"She's never restricted herself to a given team, either," Odeon said. "Only to Enforcement men. I'm sure she'd be willing to accommodate you and Major--I mean, Ivan."

"Good!" Bradford smiled. "Both our wives understand and accept the dispensation, of course, and so does Ivan's mistress, if that matters to her."

"I don't know if it does or not," Odeon admitted, surprised at himself. "She's never mentioned it to me, or to anyone else I know of. If I thought about it at all, I guess I assumed she assumed any wives or girlfriends did accept it."

"Okay. Sis expects her to wake up tomorrow?"

"Late afternoon or early evening, yes."

10. Dream

Saturday, 29 February 2572

Odeon was too edgy to sleep, too nervous about Joanie's prospects for recovery even to rest well, and more than a little apprehensive about the Brothers, so not long after midnight he gave up his useless attempt to sleep. He dressed quietly in the dim night-lighting, careful not to disturb the others--especially Piety, napping at the table. With a patient to care for and herself the only medical person who knew about Cortin's surgery, Chang slept grudgingly, not letting herself get comfortable for fear of not waking if Cortin should need her. Odeon didn't think it really necessary, but he wouldn't order anyone to be less conscientious in their specialty than they thought wise.

He slipped outside, chuckling ruefully at himself. Sis wasn't the only one taking unnecessary precautions; here he was putting himself on guard duty in a Royal residential compound with the Crown Prince and Princess present! If that wasn't redundant, he didn't know what would be; he'd have the proverbial snowball's chance against anything that could get past the kind of security this place had. Still, he felt better when he'd made a tour around the shelter and settled himself in a lawn chair beside the door.

It was a mild night, a bit cooler than usual for this time of year--good sleeping weather, and the smell of the roses was relaxing. Maybe out here he could catch a nap after all, so he wouldn't be a total loss in the morning--wouldn't want to be a zombie when Joanie woke up! And he was a Tracker, trained to wake instantly if he heard anything unusual. He settled deeper into the chair, closing his eyes.

* * * * *

The man approaching him was impossible. For one thing, he was inhumanly attractive, almost beautiful--but the clincher was his uniform. Enforcement did have some good-looking older officers; it had never had a white uniform, or a star for rank insigne, or a Kingdom emblem that looked like a spiral galaxy. This had to be a dream, then, so Odeon settled in to play along and enjoy it.

It seemed reasonable to assume that a star outranked even an eagle, so he stood, coming to attention as the man neared.

"At ease," the stranger said, smiling. "You need have no fear for your Joanie, Michael; she'll be fully recovered when she wakes."

"Thank you, sir." Odeon had no doubt the man knew precisely what he was talking about, and it was definitely reassuring.

"But you'd like to know how I know." The man smiled again. "I'm an aspect of the Triune you worship, Michael, in a form I hope you'll find--" He broke off, chuckling. "Not comforting, certainly, or even reassuring, but at least not threatening. I'm here to give you a heads-up, and maybe more if you want it. You've thought for a long time that Joanie's something special, haven't you?"

Odeon nodded, glad that this was a dream. If it'd been real, he would've been too stunned to function--because the man looked like an older Jeshua, and that was entirely too much for him to accept as reality with any degree of calm. As it was, he managed a nod. "Yes, I have."

"And you're quite right, she is." The man paused. "The White Fathers taught you well, but human interpretations do tend to modify even the most accurate prophecies. Can you accept both that fact, and the accompanying one that I cannot, for your own sake, give you all the details just yet?"

Odeon hesitated in turn, then nodded, slowly. "From anyone else, I'd say no--but from you, I can manage."

The man smiled. "You please me, my son. The White Fathers called this the Time of Chaos, though Time of Change would be more accurate, particularly where the lives of those on your team are concerned. Joan is the herald of the Promised One, and will act as that one's surrogate for a time, though she will not be asked to bear that burden permanently, and would be far happier if she isn't forced to acknowledge her temporary Protectorship."

Odeon frowned. "The Protector's Herald and acting Protector herself?" That didn't seem particularly plausible, though he had to agree Joanie wouldn't enjoy being put in either position.

"You are a wise man, Michael. And properly skeptical, as a police officer must be." The man raised his hand. "But it's your devotion that has to take precedence now, and it has to be focused on her."

"With all respect, sir, I don't understand."

"Remain her friend and guide, as you've begun. Completing her destined tasks will be both difficult and dangerous, particularly since she must remain largely unaware of that destiny, and her powers must remain mostly latent, until the true Protector manifests." He gestured, and they were inside, standing beside the cot that served Cortin as a recovery room, with Chang on the other side.

The man kept his attention centered on Odeon, though he was clearly addressing Chang as well. "When she wakes, the final phase begins. You will be severely tried, Michael in particular, by pain and loss great enough that you will be sorely tempted to reject me." He raised a hand to forestall Odeon's instinctive denial. "I said you would be tempted; I did not say you would succumb, though even Cardinals are not immune."

Odeon frowned again. In the light of last month's murder of Pope Anthony and Cardinal McHenry's near-unanimous election--he was now Pope Lucius--that had an ominous sound. "There was something fishy about the Papal election?"

"Let us just say that were his true identity known, most people would prefer a fish in that position. The former Cardinal McHenry introduced himself to Sister-Lieutenant Chang as the Raidmaster."

Odeon stared at Chang, then at him. "The Raidmaster--are you saying that Shayan is the Pope?"

"The Cardinals' free will includes the freedom to accept temptation," the man said drily. "Yes, he's managed that. But for now balance must be maintained, which means giving Joan a core group he can't touch, and nudging temporal authorities to give her mundane power to match his. All of which will have to be done without her knowledge, or she loses her temporary immunity before she's strong enough to fight him. If that's how she chooses to handle it."