Chapter 16

"No." Odeon didn't dare elaborate; she was too likely to pick up on the smallest mistake. Instead he decided to change the subject, hoping to distract her. "What's the personal thing--if you can talk about it?"

Cortin was silent for a moment, then she sighed. "I guess I wouldn't have brought it up if I hadn't intended to tell you, even though it's a little embarrassing--I don't think of you as a child!" After another brief hesitation, she went on. "It was pure wish fulfillment, I'm afraid--the part with you, at least." She moved slightly away, just enough that she could bring his hand to her breast. "You and Sis were nursing, and I was actually able to give you milk. It felt so incredibly good, especially you even though it wasn't exactly sexual . . . I can't describe it, not really. You can't believe how much I wish I could do it again, and not in a dream!"

Odeon cupped her breast, feeling the nipple harden as he stroked it with his thumb. It stood to reason, given the additions he and the other "staff" had developed since being sealed to her, that she could--though possibly, to protect her secret from herself, not until she was sealed to the true Protector. "Maybe you can, Joanie. I'm not the Protector, but while you were under, Sis and I were empowered to carry out some of those functions." He grinned. "The main one is the Sealing--and its purpose, of course, is protection from sin for those willing to give up that option."

"You and Sis?" Cortin was a little disappointed that she hadn't been included, but admitted to herself that the two of them did make more sense. "Mike, you know I've been doing my best to do His will; can you give me that protection?"

"Gladly!" Odeon thought for a moment, then got out of bed. "Here, the common-room, or the chapel?"

Her bedroom didn't feel like a proper place for a religious ritual, Cortin thought, and she wasn't sure it would be polite to carry out one of the Protector's rituals in a chapel belonging to Jeshua, even though they were Aspects of the same God. "The common-room, I think," she said, getting up. "Do we need icons or symbols, anything like that?"

That hadn't occurred to Odeon, and he said so. "I like the idea, though," he continued. "We can't have icons yet, with the Protector not wanting to be identified, but we should be able to manage something with symbols. For Justice and Life, do you think?"

"Those are supposed to be His main concerns," Cortin agreed. "Scales or a sword for Justice--probably a sword, since we all have those with our dress uniforms. What for Life, though?"

Something sexual, was Odeon's first reaction, because that was the life-creating act--but the Sealing itself wasn't, not really. "The One Who empowered Sis and me mentioned flowers; how about those?"

"Sounds good," Cortin said. "If you'll get the sword, I'll see if I can improvise an altar."

Not long afterward, they had done so. A small table she'd covered with a white silk sheet held Odeon's dress sword and a vase of Peace roses, plus a chalice of milk and a piece of bread he promised she'd understand soon. It was improvised, true, and not even consecrated, but Cortin found herself deeply affected by it.

"What do you think?" Odeon asked.

"I like it, very much," Cortin said. "It feels right--a simple altar, no fancy vestments--" She looked at herself, then at him, and smiled. "None at all, in fact. Is this how He wants it, do you think? An intimate kind of worship, maybe just family and close friends, with the senior spouses as celebrants?"

"Sounds reasonable to me," Odeon said. It was an odd feeling, having her ask his opinion on the proper way to worship the Protector; after all, if it felt right to her, acting in that capacity, who was he to say otherwise?

"To me, also."

Cortin turned, not really surprised to see Sis and the rest of those who'd been at the airborne conference. Under normal conditions she would have been astonished, and probably suspicious as well--but these were hardly normal conditions, with Shayan on the loose, the Protector manifesting to Mike and Sis, and herself having visions. It was normality, now, that would have surprised her. "You and Mike will celebrate it for us?"

"And each other, yes." The nun smiled. "Neither altar nor ceremonial is truly necessary for the Sealing or its celebration, but since we expect both, they add to the pleasure. Unfortunately we have not yet devised a ceremony, so we will have to content ourselves with informal prayers." She approached the altar, embracing Odeon as Cortin and the rest knelt.

As she'd said, the prayers were brief and informal, praising God in His Aspect of the Protector, asking His blessings on those who were worthy of and wanted Sealing but couldn't be given it until the Protector came into the open, offering the milk and bread on the altar in their behalf until they could partake of the true Milk or Seed of Life.

That reference puzzled Cortin, until the two celebrants asked that God make use of them to do the Protector's work, and were accepted. Something seemed to twist inside her, then she felt the exaltation of Consecration taking hold and she was praying for the new salvation the celebrants offered, not just from the effects of sin but from sin itself. As at Mass, the celebrants took the new Communion first, drinking from each other. The physical actions were little different from some of the things that went on at a shelter party--but the feeling wasn't sexual, it was like her dream of both of them feeding from her: reverent joy.

Then the celebrants were finished, inviting those who hadn't yet partaken and wished to place themselves under the Protector's care to come forward. Almost as if Odeon were pulling her, Cortin approached him and knelt. Except that it was Mike only in form; he had become God, in the same way bread and wine became God at the Consecration during Mass. "I surrender myself to Thee," she said. "I ask for Thy protection and guidance, that I might serve Thee to the best of my ability."

"They are thine, Daughter." Hands on her head guided her to the whiteness welling from him. "Drink thy fill of the Seed of Life, that thou mayst be Sealed to thy Protector."

Cortin obeyed. The droplets were sweet, not the slightly bitter taste she remembered. Taste was minor, though, next to the exaltation that washed through her. His thick sweet fluid was a generous feast, filling her with His love and life. It was forever and no time at all that she finished, reveling in His glorious bounty so freely given.

When He raised her to her feet, the exaltation faded as it did after Communion--not completely, but to a far lesser intensity. She stepped back; Princess Ursula took her place, while the Prince went to Chang.

It was beautiful, Cortin thought, in large part because it was real rather than hidden by symbols. She didn't object to such concealment in its proper place, such as the Mass--letting flesh and blood appear to be bread and wine was easier on celebrant and communicants both! Milk and seed, though, could be given not only without pain but with obvious pleasure; Mike and Sis were both positively radiant. Some people, she knew, would think this obscene, be uncomfortable or worse at taking such nourishment directly from its source instead of from chalice or plate. She knew, but she didn't understand. Breasts were made to give milk, testes to give seed; given and taken in the Protector's Holy Name, how could it be other than beautiful?

The royal couple was done; they returned to kneel with Cortin. The Princess was the last woman in the group, so Odeon waited, relaxed, while Chang fed the rest. Her last communicant was Pritchett--and unlike the others, he had a visible response when he drank.

Cortin found that a good sign, as well as being enjoyable to watch. Chang very much wanted a baby, preferably Pritchett's, though that would take a miracle. It'd be an even better sign to those who hadn't been here if they were granted one today; it'd have to be seen as an obvious indication that this was God's Will. Chang stroked him briefly when he raised his head, then she turned to Odeon and they faced the group for a final prayer.

For Shannon/Shayan's reaction: 16a. Shayan

17. Family

As she experienced, for minutes almost becoming, each of the Sealed men, Cortin's appreciation of them grew. Tony's quiet, unobtrusive competence, Ivan's culture and dry humor, the Prince's devotion to his wife and the Systems, the others' varying individualities--and all of them loving her, she returning it. The full unity proved to be only between man and woman, which she found out when Princess Ursula suckled while Edward was merging with her--but she felt Ursula through him, knew the Princess shared her through him as well, sharing love with both.

Later, it was Tiny and Sis who joined her, Tiny's seed still filling the nun's womb though Cortin smiled, trying to project her delight that its work was done. The fourth person in this union was unformed as yet, but undeniably there, conceived in their unity and bathed in all three's when she and Tiny merged, erupting into each other.

When the unity faded, Cortin kissed both of them. "Congratulations--what're you going to name him?"

"Name who?" Powell asked.

Cortin glanced at Chang, got a nod, and called, "Gather 'round, people!" When they did, she said, "Don't ask me how I know, because I can't tell you--but it's my honor and pleasure to tell you all that Sis is pregnant. The child's a boy, and Tiny's the father."

There was a tumult of congratulations until Pritchett interrupted, looking stunned. "But I'm sterile!"

"You were, legally," Chang said with a serene smile. "That is defined, of course, as a class three or lower sperm count and motility rating--but as long as sperm are present at all, there is a chance of conception, however remote. Since we did conceive, that definition no longer applies; you are demonstrably fertile."

Pritchett hugged both women, then disentangled himself from Cortin to give his full attention to the mother of his child. Cortin stretched, catlike, then stood. Once with each of them had been enough to satisfy her need--though it had also left her with a nagging apprehension. Could a team so emotionally involved with each other, and especially with its CO, continue to function properly?

At least they were gathered around the expectant parents, not her, and seemed to be coming to rapid agreement on something. Of the others, the Prince and Princess looked wistful, and Bradford and Illyanov were approaching her. Bradford seemed worried, Illyanov buoyant. "Problem, Brad?" Cortin asked.

"Maybe, depending on what His Majesty decides to do about two fertile Strike Force troopers, the waivered one of whom is pregnant." Bradford frowned. "Normally, you know, she'd be transferred to base duty or discharged at her option and he'd be transferred to the regulars--but I happen to think moving either of them would be a mistake. So I'm going to recommend waivering both of them as long as you're willing to keep them on Azrael."

"Which will be as long as they're willing to stay," Cortin said. "Thanks, Brad, but that's not the only problem. We also have a Team Leader who's just found out she's in love with her entire team--as well as Their Highnesses and the two of you." She sighed deeply. "I wouldn't want to change a bit of it, but this does put us in one horrendous mess, and if we can manage to salvage anything we've planned, it'll be a major miracle."

"I see no serious problems," Illyanov said cheerfully. "After the miracles we have just experienced, how can you doubt that God will continue to help us?"

His confidence was reassuring; Cortin found herself able to grin. "I don't doubt it a bit. Just remember that we can't count on Him until we've done all we can do for ourselves."

"I am fully aware of that," Illyanov said with a smile. "And I believe you can do more than either you or Colonel Bradford have allowed yourself to realize." He turned, gesturing a request to the Royal couple to join them. When they did, he bowed. "Your Highnesses, what limitations are applicable to a Strike Force Team Leader who is also an Inquisitor?"

"No treason or regicide," Prince Edward said promptly. "Anything else they do, as long as it's directed toward stopping the terrorists--or done in the Kingdoms' interests, a proviso I persuaded my father to get the other Sovereigns to agree to a few days ago--is covered by their Writs of Immunity."

"An excellent addition, Your Highness," Illyanov said. "And if such an Inquisitor/Team Leader's opinion of what is in the Kingdoms' best interest happens not to coincide with current canon or civil law?"

The Prince frowned. "I don't know," he said slowly. "I was at all the Strike Force planning conferences, and I don't remember that possibility ever being discussed."

Illyanov turned to Bradford. "The same question, My Lord Bishop. As Strike Force commander, you must know the answer."

Bradford shook his head. "His Highness is right--the possibility was never brought up. I know it never occurred to me; now that you bring it up, it frightens me."

"It should reassure you instead," Illyanov said. "If it occurred to none of those charged with the Kingdoms' protection, I think it safe to assume it will not occur to any in a position and with a desire to harm them." He turned back to Cortin. "I would suggest, beloved, that you take your Writ at face value and do whatever you think best."

Odeon had left the team group to listen; now he nodded. "I second that, Joanie. The best way to make a change is to do it--and Sis has agreed to marry us. Will you perform the ceremony?"

"Wait a minute!" Cortin protested. "Are you all telling me that His Holiness and Their Majesties gave us more power than they have themselves?"

"It would appear so," Illyanov said, "since they must obey the law, and you need not if you believe disobeying to be in the Kingdoms' best interest."

Cortin felt a sudden brief hysteria. Standing here naked and sweaty, in definite need of a bath--and they were telling her, with absolute seriousness, that she was more powerful than King or Pope! That was a frightening idea--but Mike was right, making changes required action. Still-- "I . . . let me clean up and think about it. It's too tempting--sounds too easy."

"We do all need baths," Illyanov agreed, putting his arm around her waist and starting to urge her toward her rooms. "It will be far less easy than it sounds, beloved; this merely makes it possible. But we will all help you."

Before, that sort of presumption would have irritated her, or worse--she might not have wanted to bathe with him, maybe not with anyone. Now, though, she realized that she did want company, specifically Ivan's, and she slid her arm around his waist.

They were silent as the tub filled, Illyanov respecting Cortin's need to think. He'd had no trouble accepting her as the Protector, unlike a couple of the others, but he did have the advantage of Dmitrian traditional prophecies and a mother who'd been matter-of-factly certain her eldest son would meet the Promised One and fulfill those prophecies with Her. He'd guessed it might be Joan when she fulfilled part of them by becoming an Inquisitor who assured herself of her subjects' guilt, had thought it highly probable when she'd fulfilled another part by celebrating her restored sexuality with all of them, and had become positive when Michael told him she knew nothing of her mission, also as prophesied. Becoming one with her hadn't been necessary to his belief in her, though he admitted to himself that it was good to know rather than simply believe. The awesome vastness of even the body-limited part of her Self was both humbling and a promise of what humanity in the Systems could become under her protection and guidance. The permanent Protector's later, of course--but most definitely Joan's for now.

Cortin stirred the rising water with her foot, watching the ripples, comforted by the man sitting on the edge of the tub with her, his arm around her shoulders. Taken at face value, her Writ did give her almost unlimited power, and she'd like nothing better than to use it to give those she loved the first expanded Family. Most of them, anyway . . . the royals would have to find other spouses at their own level, Ivan and Brad already had families and intentions of expanding them with friends/lovers, and she . . . well, she knew perfectly well she couldn't be part of the marriage. She'd give them a nice Nuptial Mass, though.

The thought of Mass made her think of Communion, the rapturous absorption in Divinity she experienced sharing Jeshua's Body and Blood. And had experienced earlier today, first drinking from Mike, then in union. It was confusing that three such different experiences could affect her the same way . . .

"Shall we get in before the water gets cold?"

"Huh?" Cortin glanced at her companion, seeing amused sympathy on his face. "Sorry, Ivan. I was thinking about something else."

"Are you trying to teach your instructor to suck eggs?" Illyanov asked, one eyebrow raised. He slid into the thigh-deep water, turned to help her in. "Have you decided?"

"Decided? Oh--yes. I've got to make the effort; I'll marry them whenever they want. And pray the Pope or someone doesn't annul it." She frowned. "I wouldn't be too worried if it was still Pope Anthony--but Lucius is as conservative as they come. I'm not sure what he'll do . . . and for no reason I can pinpoint, I don't trust him."

In that case, Illyanov thought, neither did he--but he kept to the primary subject. "A valid marriage cannot be annulled, and that will be one, under the provisions of your Writ." Illyanov picked up the shampoo, began washing her hair. "It seems to me a good idea to marry them as early as possible, although--like your suspicion of Pope Lucius--I have no specific reason for the idea." He paused, then went on. "I am also concerned with what will happen when he and the Sovereigns realize the power they gave you and those like you. Ex post facto laws are invalid, so they will be unable to negate what you do--but it would not surprise me if they act quickly to restrict those powers."

"How quickly is quickly?" Cortin returned the favor, grabbing the soap and lathering her companion.

"All were involved in issuing the Writs, so all must agree on their modification. I am astonished that Prince Edward's modification was accepted so rapidly, though it was relatively minor; this is major, so it should take a Sovereign's Conference. Even with preparations made as fast as possible, I would be surprised if it could convene in less than a month. Most, you know, take a year or more to arrange."

"I never thought I'd be grateful for bureaucratic delays," Cortin said, "but this time I am." She thought of something, frowned. "Wait--I can't use the Writ yet! Not until we're activated, and who knows how long that'll be? If they catch on before then, either modify the Writs or simply never activate us, I won't be able to do anything!"

"Not true," Illyanov said. "You simply cannot use it openly until then." He grinned. "You are too straightforward for politics, beloved--one of the reasons I love you. Your Writ has been valid since it was issued, as is whatever you have done or will do under it. Marry the team, then lay the groundwork, bring together the rest of those you need for what you must accomplish, let the public--through a reporter, of course--see you at prayer and play as well as work, continue giving out the blessed cartridges."

"Play?" Cortin cocked her head, looking up at him.

"Not this kind, of course." Illyanov returned the look, affectionately stroking her breast. "As Michael said, this can truly be shared only with those we love. I had in mind perhaps a pair of kittens?"

Cortin gaped at him, then grinned and splashed water on his chest. "You learned that about me during unity, while I only get feeling? That doesn't seem quite fair--not that I can complain about what I do get!"

"You know better than to jump at conclusions," Illyanov chided. "Anthony, who has seen you with them, is not the only one who is aware of your fondness for the young of all species, particularly the feline one--a knowledge I got, not from your men, but from your reactions to things like calendar pictures."

"Oops--not thinking too clearly at the moment, I guess. Too many distractions. Sorry, Ivan." Cortin ducked under the water to rinse her hair, but more to hide embarrassment. She did know better than that; her only excuse was the shock of finding she loved--and was loved by--so many people. She'd get over the shock--probably very soon, as nice as it felt--but right now she was almost as much of a mess as the situation they were all in.

"No apologies necessary," Illyanov said when she surfaced. "The . . . total involvement shocked all of us. You may believe me suffering from an excess of my ancestral Russian mysticism, but I felt I was one with God. Turn around, I need to get your back.--You do realize that Eleanor and Joseph's baby is the first human since the Blessed Virgin to be conceived free of Original Sin?"

Cortin turned her head to stare at him. "Is that more of your Russian mysticism?"

"Simple logic, beloved. A child conceived by parents incapable of sin must share that protection, at least until it reaches the age of reason and must decide for itself."

Cortin thought for a moment, then nodded. "That does make sense. I haven't figured out all the implications of not being able to sin, yet."

"None of us have," Illyanov said. "It is possible we will receive some surprises as to what is and is not sinful, as well. While God is infallible, human interpretation of His Will is not." He smiled. "I also have a feeling that we other Sealed Inquisitors will have to imitate you in assuring ourselves of a subject's guilt before going beyond the first stage of interrogation. I pray we are given truthsense to do so accurately, lest we release those who will harm the ones we are sworn to protect."

"That would have to be a part of it," Cortin agreed. "Try some test questions on me. I'll try to lie on one of them; if you've got the same kind of truthsense now that I do, you'll be able to feel which one."

"Questions I do not know the answers to. Having been your instructor, I know you well enough for that to be difficult; let me think."

He had finished bathing her and was being bathed in turn before he was able to think of any. As he'd told her, he knew too much about her for most conventional questions to be evidential, and the unconventional ones he really wanted to ask would tell her too much. "Do you believe the Protector's appearance will make our profession obsolete?"

"No," Cortin said promptly. "We'll be just as necessary, though not always in the same way, I'm sure." She grinned. "Not everyone's going to be willing to give up even the little free will we did, either to be sure of Heaven or to avoid Hell. Criminals still won't give up their information without a fight, and they'll still need mortal punishment; there'll definitely be a place for Inquisitors!"

"That is good to know. Ah . . . let me see. I do not remember that we ever went into your pre-Academy background, with the exception of your family being a farming one; if the subject would not be too painful, that might be a possible area of evidence."

"My adoptive family," Cortin corrected him. "But I can't say my childhood was any more painful than average, so go ahead."

"Do you remember your biological parents at all?"

"No. As far as I know, I never saw either of them; I was the classic orphan left in a basket on someone's front porch."