Chapter 32

"Making sure, sweet Piety, that this time it's you who enjoys me." Yes, that revolted her very nicely. He stilled her beginning objection with a long kiss, then smiled down at her, continuing both his physical caresses and mental pressure. "I've kept you sane," he said softly. "The refuge of insanity is one you can never take, now, and there's no point in hoping I can't do something else equally simple. You will remember this week clearly, and today will be by far the worst. Because you are going to enjoy me, in the full knowledge that I'm compelling your pleasure as thoroughly, if not in the same way, as I compelled your pain and the others'." He smiled, running a hand down her belly to tease thick curls. "I'm sure you've heard I can be a skillful lover when I want, not so?"

"Yes." His compulsion was working; he could sense her starting to relax.

"Good. I had planned to leave in a few minutes, but a proper demonstration takes time; you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"I . . . think so."

"You will, believe me."

* * * * *

She did, though it wasn't as easy as he'd told her or expected it would be. He'd felt her mental strength, but her tenacity and resilience still surprised him, finding any gap in the net of compulsion he imposed, which made it nearly half an hour, instead of a few minutes, before he was able to make her feel the pleasure he wanted. He paused then, thinking. While he respected her courage, her unexpected resistance at this late hour had irritated him, and he wanted to take it out on her. So should he make her cooperate with him, rather than simply remain passive and enjoy whatever attentions he chose to give her?

He smiled slowly. Yes, that would certainly add spice, and it would make her memories all the more painful. With the groundwork laid, that took only a few moments, and she was eagerly returning his caresses.

He took his time with her, knowing that the thoroughness of her enjoyment now would determine how much she suffered later. He'd told her there would only be one more act of intercourse, so that was what it would be. He'd said nothing, however, about details, so he played with her, teasing her with repeated small orgasms by mouth and hand, letting her know silently that these were only preludes. He felt--and helped--her desire grow with each one, building into desperate need, until she was writhing against him, begging and frantically struggling to get him into her.

It was a temptation to reject her at this last moment, but he resisted in the interest of future pleasure. He obliged her, giving her the tremendous orgasm he'd teased her with--starting with his entry, prolonging it through a coitus that would seem to her like hours, and peaking it when his own climax sent jets of icy fire into her.

He left her body first, smiling down at her. "You liked that, didn't you, sweet Piety?"

The nun sighed happily. "You know I did . . . does that really have to be the last time?"

"I'm afraid so." Shannon rose, still smiling. "I've enjoyed you a lot, but I have to get back to work, and it's time for you to report our little party to the nearest Enforcement post. You can tell them everything except my name and how you knew me; all they need to know on that subject is that I'm the Raidmaster. Not just a raidmaster, the Raidmaster. You'll be sure to point that out for me, won't you?"

"Of course."

"Very good." Shannon double-checked the barriers he'd raised to keep her from the refuge of insanity, then he released his other compulsions. She reacted beautifully, her expression turning from pleasure to revulsion as she retreated from him, turning to run but falling to her knees racked with convulsions of nausea.

* * * * *

Shannon's attention returned to his surroundings. He'd left St. Ignatius then, thoroughly satisfied with the interlude, and memories of Sister Piety had cheered him several times since. It was an interlude he dared not repeat now, though. Cortin might sense something as simple as using his power to modify his physical attributes, and now that she was personally aware of him thanks to the attack, she'd have to sense his use of it on others.

Return to main storyline: 3. Center

4a. Shannon's Reaction

Shannon had decided to take advantage of Cortin's skill during the afternoon session. It had been some time since he'd combined his two preferences purely for pleasure instead of as an "object lesson"--since Piety, in fact--and he was overdue for some recreation. He'd told his aide he was tired and would be napping after lunch; Cortin would provide the violence, Victor the sex. Victor was homo, raised in a family that saw the Church's increased tolerance in the last two and a half centuries as abhorrent. But Victor couldn't deny his drives; the best he could do was conceal them, feeling guilt whenever they became strong enough to make him take action.

Shannon had picked him for that, perhaps more than for his administrative ability, then arranged for Victor to find him apparently asleep, naked. Since then he could count on the man sneaking into his room several times a week; it relieved some of the tension, and Victor's guilt not only added spice to the affair, it made him even more devoted to the one he thought he was victimizing. And, Shannon thought smugly, he couldn't possibly be faulted for being an innocent victim.

Stretched out, with only a sheet covering him, Shannon waited for Victor to decide he was asleep. In the meantime, he considered the two ordinations that had just taken place. He found them abhorrent, even though he was aware of their necessity. His continued existence could well depend on four humans who would, except for the approaching invaders, be major enemies--two here, one in the Terran Empire, and one currently dead. Three of the four, to his disgust, had to be priests of the Crucified One. That was galling enough, but the worst part was that he had to promote faith himself! Not necessarily in that particular deity, though it would benefit most, he thought bitterly. There were times he was tempted to rebel again, tell the Adversary to do it all, instead of having to drive people toward that one, rather than urge them away as he preferred. Existence, though, wasn't something to be given up, even if maintaining it meant doing some things he found truly repugnant.

Cortin, of course, was his immediate concern, though Odeon would ultimately be the source of far more difficulty for him. Before then, though, the scar-faced man could be made to suffer--which would be a very enjoyable procedure indeed, after the problems that particular individual had caused him since their last encounter. And there was always the chance Odeon would make a bad decision--though considering the effect that would have on Shannon himself, he couldn't seriously wish for it.

To main storyline: 5. Azrael

4b. Mike Odeon's First Mass

Odeon smiled as he entered the Detention Center chapel's small sacristy to prepare for his First Mass. He'd gone to Mass every day it was physically possible since childhood, made Spiritual Communion otherwise, and he'd thought himself long since resigned to not being the celebrant. That resignation, he realized now, had been only superficial; the anticipation he felt as he took out the stole Bradford had given him made it clear he'd never really given up hope of actually going to the altar.

He studied the stole, glanced from it to the vestments hanging up, and smiled again. He'd like to wear those, but it didn't seem too likely he would; except in very unusual circumstances, Bradford had told him, a Strike Force priest would remain in uniform, his only vestment the stole. Odeon kissed the piece of cloth, then murmured the proper vesting prayer as he put it around his neck.

The congregation and a server were waiting when he entered the main part of the chapel, so he contented himself with a brief introduction to the latter before turning to the altar. Since he hadn't had any formal liturgical training, he was a bit apprehensive about how well he'd be able to perform the ceremony, but his apprehension vanished as soon as he blessed himself for the opening prayers. He was filled with a sense of rightness and certainty, feeling himself absorbed in an awesome Presence that would give him flawless guidance. He gave a silent prayer of thanks, then lost himself in the glorious joy he'd always imagined saying Mass would be. Joy became exaltation at the Consecration, lasting until he finished giving Communion, then returning to the lesser joy until he finished the final prayers.

When he returned to the sacristy and removed his stole, it was with another prayer of thanks. That sort of direct guidance wasn't normal, he knew, and he had no idea why an undistinguished Enforcement Service officer would be granted such an exceptional--and marvelous!--grace, but he certainly wasn't going to reject it. He also wasn't going to bring the subject up, he decided. He wouldn't lie about it, of course, if anyone noticed and asked, but he didn't care to make any claims that might get him investigated by Church authorities. It wasn't that he had anything to hide; he'd committed few sins beyond the chronic mild profanity he couldn't seem to break himself of, despite his intentions--and he'd confessed those and gotten absolution, especially before saying Mass. He was definitely no saint, though, and with Cardinal McHenry in charge of investigating miracle claims, he'd just as soon avoid even a suspicion of claiming anything unusual.

Return to main storyline: 5. Azrael

16a. Shayan

Shannon's stomach churned in sick disgust, and he found it hard to keep from vomiting. He'd known that she'd be given a dozen helpers roughly equivalent to his doubles, so he hadn't been surprised when she, as acting Protector, was helped to set her seal on the first two, or when they passed it along to others. He hadn't even needed to eavesdrop; that was such a potent use of power it was impossible for anyone with the slightest degree of sensitivity to miss.

So, unfortunately, was the revolting spectacle going on in Harmony Lodge. It was positively obscene! He'd done humanity a favor, letting it couple without real involvement being necessary; why couldn't the Adversary have left it at that until after the decision point?

It did have one advantage, he conceded grudgingly, an advantage he was astonished the Adversary would yield--though since this wasn't truly a conflict, perhaps the advantage was also illusory. When they were broadcasting those repulsive emotions to each other and at him, they were also broadcasting information--especially in the throes of unity. For the first time since he'd decided it was no longer safe to eavesdrop, he knew Cortin's thoughts and intentions--and knew them more thoroughly than if he'd managed to plant a spy in her private office.

Shannon sighed in relief as the broadcast stopped. He'd have to find some way to screen those emotions, without losing the information carried with them. Damn the weaknesses of human bodies! In one of his own forms, or able to use his powers, he wouldn't be affected so severely--if he were affected at all. The obvious way to avoid the worst of her excesses was to have sex himself, properly isolated from his partner's feelings; was there anyone here who could serve the purpose?

Too bad he'd had to leave Victor on St. Michael, but his aide was needed to deal with the Brothers there while he set up the Dmitrian operation that, if the crucial decision was made incorrectly, would trigger a Systems-wide conflict.

And Sara was too valuable to get involved in the conflict, even so marginally. Drugs, then--they were no more acceptable for his image, but they didn't require a partner, and he should have no trouble getting some from the pharmacy unobserved.

Damn, she was starting again! Degas this time, with Illyanov at her other breast eager for a chance at her--information or not, if she was going to keep this up, he had to find shielding! Worse, there was another couple starting at it, broadcasting less strongly but no less sickeningly--that unspeakable Piety and a big black she thought of as Tiny. Cursing in an effort to keep his mind clear, he hurriedly left his office to get the drugs he needed.

Return to main storyline: 17. Family

20a. Decision

Monday, 16 March 2572

Shannon had sent Blackfeather home to get ready for her trip, and was distracting himself from her loss by studying. He hadn't wasted his time in Odeon's mind; besides teaching the priest how to remove the compulsions he'd put Sara under--and, more pleasantly, just how much agony a human could be subjected to with the proper support--he had extracted considerable information.

Most of it was useless, though some was mildly interesting; it was Cortin's fears that intrigued him. She was primarily afraid of the confrontation--decision point, actually, which concerned him as well, though for different reasons--but there was fear for her people, for the Church, and of what he would do about the Families.

Shayan sighed, feeling all too human in his frustration. He had enjoyed Odeon's pain, no question about that, but the tempering did mean the confrontation both he and Cortin dreaded was less than half a year away.

Which meant he had his own choice to make, right now. Just how badly did he want to live?

There was no guarantee he would, of course, even if Odeon made the correct choice; there was no guarantee any life at all in this universe would survive the invasion that was to come. It had been easy enough, four centuries ago, to promise cooperation--but he'd had private reservations, cooperating on the surface while continuing to pursue his own goals and pleasures.

Now, though, with the decision point so close and the invasion to follow shortly afterward, that no longer seemed adequate. To improve his odds, he'd have to go further. As much as the idea galled him, he'd have to put aside his own agenda until things returned to normal after the invasion--if they did--and cooperate to the best of his ability.

That would be tremendously difficult. Even his grudged cooperation hadn't been easy . . . He took a deep breath, sighed again. Life was more important than the pride that had been his downfall; he'd do what was necessary to preserve that life now, and worry about pride later. If Odeon made the correct decision and the invasion resulted in war rather than simple massacre, faith and worship would be far more important weapons than ships and disruptors; he'd have to begin actively promoting both, even though he didn't share either.

He took time to grimace at that repulsive thought, then he settled down to work with the information he'd gotten from Odeon. What should his--and the Church's--official position be? Positions, rather, with this Communion of Promise Cortin had instituted at Odeon's urging. That, unlike the Sealing he couldn't officially know about, was both public and taking place in church, though not--quite--as part of the Mass.

He would be expected to condemn both that and the Families, as Cortin anticipated--but should he? It was a delicate question, since his first priority had to be doing what little more he could to prepare Odeon for his critical choice, working through and around Cortin while awaiting the Protector-to-be's arrival. Then came the propagation of faith and worship.

He smiled slowly. He might be able to derive some amusement, if not pleasure, from this full cooperation after all, if he did it properly. He'd never been accused of moderation, for excellent reason, and saw no reason to change that particular aspect of himself.

Back Cortin and her team--now become a Family--to the hilt, then. That would serve both his modified purposes, with the side benefit of confusing the Sealed ones, who knew his identity, no end. Since the only thing he could know about by normal means right now was the Communion of Promise, and he wanted to make the greatest impact he could on the Sealed ones, he'd simply announce he was studying the prophecies and would issue a decision later; conditionally, he'd allow them to continue.

As for the Families and Strike Force, he could undoubtedly trust Sara to publicize them as soon as she was permitted to, probably after the convent raid. That would be good timing, since the raid's aftermath would provide Odeon and, incidentally, Cortin, the last of his pre-decision lessons. He'd contact them after Sara's stories were published, invite the Protector's Herald and acting Protector to concelebrate Mass--though since he was now helping her, perhaps he shouldn't mention the Protector role. Nor would he have to be concerned about her powers any longer, since her truthsense would assure her he was no longer--for now, at any rate--a threat.

And what about the Brotherhood? It had served him well, his doubles and Victor in particular, increasing the population of his realm quite nicely. That, however, was no longer his objective--worked against the faith-and-worship weapon system, in fact. He'd have to order it disbanded, urge the members to repent their sins and return to the Church and sacraments. They'd still have to pay the worldly penalty for their crimes, but as long as they ended up in Purgatory rather than Hell, they could still contribute. Again, not until after the convent raid, and he'd have to work through one of his doubles.

Unfortunately, he'd also have to change his plans for the Imperials once that crucial contact was made. It would have been pleasant to torment them, make them special targets--but that would be counterproductive.

Ah, well, life over pride, he reminded himself. And he'd wasted enough time; he had an audience to conduct, then he should see what he could do about special devotions that large numbers of people would find attractive.

Return to main storyline: 21. Anguish

23a. Waiting

Thursday, 26 March 2572 (Morning, New Rome)

Shayan smiled as he read the New Roman Times while eating breakfast. Sara had done excellently; these stories gave him all the details he needed to take action. The Strike Forces, the Sealing, Cortin the Herald and acting Protector being hailed as Protector despite her own disbelief in the role, a liturgist working on services to her--she undoubtedly hated that--yes, there was plenty revealed openly now for him to take action on. Not just yet, though; his announcements would have more impact if he made them with the Herald's knowledge and approval, perhaps even in her presence.

It was too early, in New Denver, for her to even be awake, and Odeon had to learn one thing yet today, so he shouldn't make contact until they were done for the day. Since he'd decided on full cooperation, he no longer needed to fear waking her powers prematurely; that would take her perceiving a threat, and he no longer provided even a minimal one. So he would be able to observe, then phone her when she had her prisoner settled for the night.

Or should he mind-call her, thus giving her the limited telepathy three in her Family already had? Since it would also let him sense her feelings at his unexpected support, that was an attractive thought. He had a couple of hours yet before she woke, then several more until she called it a day, and he had work of his own to do; he'd decide what method to use when the time came.

Return to main storyline: 24. Revenge

27a. At Harmony Lodge

The next three weeks went by both too quickly and too slowly for Cortin's taste. It took the Imperials only a couple of days to find a plague vaccine, but they were unable to find a cure; according to their medical people, it caused permanent physical changes. That was fine with Cortin. She'd put a lot of time and effort working for the social changes the plague had made necessary; she had no particular desire to have that work wasted, and she wanted even less for her Family and herself to go back to their pre-plague selves.

To Cortin's amusement, when Conley was introduced to the rest of the Family she developed an almost instant crush on Tony Degas, the most classically handsome of the Family men. That, since Degas enjoyed the attention, kept them both busy while Cortin was working, and often afterward.

There were only two untoward incidents during the three weeks before Medart's arrival. The first was the arrival of a prisoner for execution, which wasn't at all unusual in itself--but the interrogation report she got with him didn't feel right, and the prisoner had been muted, which, with the other, could mean someone didn't want her questioning him. She didn't normally do that with execution subjects--they'd been questioned and sentenced before coming to her--but she decided to delay executing this one until Medart arrived. Mike said the Empire had something called a mind-probe, and thought it likely a battle cruiser would have one, unlike a scout; with that, she should be able to question the prisoner and get responsive answers.

The other was an attack on half a dozen Imperials and two Strike Force troopers on the way back from town, by twice that many Brothers of Freedom. There were casualties on both sides, but to Cortin's unconcealed delight, no fatalities on either. She left interrogation of all but the leader to the Detention Center's staff of Inquisitors, since they were unlikely to be either knowledgeable or particularly difficult to break. Even the leader wasn't too promising, given the Brotherhood's secretiveness, but Cortin took him anyway; these Imperials were her responsibility, and she wanted to personally punish the one in charge of harming them.

And she did get some useful information from him. The Brotherhood's still-anonymous new leader was no fonder of the Empire than she was, but instead of bowing to the inevitable and making the best of it, he vowed to destroy all he could. Killing Imperials was to take priority even over killing Strike Force members, including Cortin the Bitch herself. When Cortin passed that information along and it reached the public, the general attitude toward the Imperials became more favorable; for most people, anything the Brotherhood wanted to destroy must have its good points.

Return to main storyline: 29. Arrival

30a. Torture (Cortin's point of view)

Cortin was conducting the first part of her preliminary examination when Odeon interrupted. "Someone in the observation room, Excellency."

She turned that way. "Colonel Bradford?"

"Yes," Bradford replied over the intercom, "with Ranger Medart and Lt. DarElwyn."

"If you'd care to, you're welcome to join me in here." Normally, she wouldn't permit anyone except Mike or another Inquisitor to be in the same room while she was working, but these were unusual guests. And there was something particularly appealing about the Sandeman . . .

"The interview went all right?" she asked, as soon as the three entered.

"Quite well," Bradford replied. "I'll get the operation moving as soon as I get back to my office."

"Good--thanks, both of you." Cortin turned back to her prisoner, still addressing the observers--primarily, for some reason she didn't understand, Keith. "This one's nothing special, except in the number of his crimes and the fact that he wanted witnesses until he got to the last victim in each series. It was the rapes that were his particular thrill; the murders were enjoyable, but more of a side effect. So I'll be concentrating on the punishment for rape."