Chapter 7

"No, Captain. I have been on missions since; shelter parties and the like do not disturb me." Chang smiled momentarily. "In fact, my last . . . experience . . . with His Infernal Majesty seems to have had a side effect he did not anticipate and may not like. Forcing me to feel sexual pleasure, even with him, has let me appreciate what willing partners give each other. Since then, I have found it highly enjoyable watching them, where earlier I had no particular reaction."

"As long as you don't have to participate, naturally." Which she most certainly wouldn't; any attempt to compel sex, at least in Enforcement, was dealt with harshly--and usually right then. "If you'd like, I'll tell the men not to even ask you."

"I would appreciate that. Even though I am unable to accept their offers, I would prefer not to hurt their feelings by refusing."

"I'll take care of it, then. Have you tried therapy, to get over what happened?"

"And prayer," Chang agreed. "I shall increase my efforts at both now, of course; it would be unfair to the rest of the team to do less."

That was true, Cortin thought. No one could be faulted for not taking part, but that shouldn't be because of a correctable disability; it should be either voluntary, or because of permanent disability like her own. It seemed a cruel irony that Chang had the ability without the desire, while she had the desire without the ability. At least she could try to take comfort in the fact that one of them had a chance to be fully functional again . . . "If there's any way I can help, just let me know. And let the men know if you beat your problem."

"I will be certain to."

* * * * *

Shannon felt a brief surge of power, traced it--and hastily retreated, swearing. That God-loving Cortin had dissolved the compulsion of silence he'd put on Piety, without even knowing she was doing it! That was a minor use of power, of course, but it was more than he'd thought her capable of, even--or especially--unconsciously. If she could do that, he'd have to stop even observing her--not just when she was idle, but when she should have her full attention on her work. No more watching her while he played with Victor, then, unfortunately--no more watching her, period.

He could do without the entertainment she provided, but it would be inconvenient doing without the information she let him eavesdrop on. What really bothered him was the timing. It might simply be coincidence that Cortin's first real use of her power took place the first time she met Piety--but he didn't trust coincidence, especially not when it involved someone with Cortin's latent power.

He should've killed the nun when he had her, amusing though it had been to torment her further by letting her live. Well, that was one mistake he could remedy! Sister-Lieutenant Eleanor Mary Piety Chang had just made it to the top of the Brotherhood's wipe list.

There was more than a little risk to that, of course, especially if an attempt was made on her when Cortin was in the area--it might trigger the Bitch into using her powers instead of keeping her from them--but he thought it a risk worth taking.

Wait a minute! Lieutenant? He'd barely brushed her mind before jerking back, but the brief contact had been enough to tell him she thought of herself differently. A Lieutenant of Enforcement, and a member of the whatever-it-was--Strike Force?--the various Kingdoms had gathered groups of their best to form.

Shannon scowled. A Strike Force or equivalent, able to attract people like Piety, was extremely bad news--especially at a time when he was forced to restrict his own powers.

* * * * *

Cortin's next interview, with the communications specialist, was rather different. She'd known his size and race, from his records--but facing a man over two meters tall and built like a weightlifter, with skin so dark it was almost blue, was an experience she'd never had before. So was his reaction, when he entered the interview office; his eyes lit up, and he gave her a brilliant smile before saluting. "Lieutenant Joseph Pritchett reporting to Team Leader Azrael as ordered, ma'am. And thank you for considering me."

"Be seated, Lieutenant," Cortin said. As he obeyed, she went on. "Your enthusiasm is flattering; may I ask why?"

It was impossible for his complexion to get any darker, but she had the impression he was flushing. "I've heard about Captain Cortin ever since my freshman year at the Academy," he said. "I've always wanted to work with you, but I was never in the right place at the right time, and when I heard what the Brothers had done to you, I thought sure you'd retire. I'm glad you didn't, and I'll finally get to work with you--if you want me after this, of course. I hadn't heard you were an Inquisitor, though."

"That's quite recent," Cortin said. "Would it bother you, working for one?" She was flattered that he'd wanted to work with her that much, and hoped it wouldn't.

"Not working for one, no, ma'am--but I've got to tell you right from the start that I'd really rather not help with third-stage."

"I don't see any reason you should have to," Cortin assured him. "I'm training my second, Captain Odeon, as my assistant, and I hope to find someone with Inquisitor as a second specialty for the team. Any other problems?"

"No, ma'am."

"Good. Welcome to Team Azrael, then. Two more items, before I turn you over to Captain Odeon for a complete briefing and equipment issue. Firstly, off duty and within the team, first names are proper; mine is Joan. Do you prefer Joseph or Joe?"

"Either is fine, ma'am. I'm generally called Tiny, though."

Cortin chuckled. "Tiny it is, then. The other thing: I will expect your sexual conduct to remain withing so-called 'normal' bounds while we're within populated areas. I'll make sure you have adequate access to decent, reputable courtesans, or you can find yourself an informal wife; that's up to you. Otherwise--as long as you don't involve anyone who isn't willing, of course--what you do is up to you."

"Couldn't ask for more than that," Pritchett said. "Ah--does that freedom include yourself, ma'am? I've heard how much fun you are, especially at a shelter party; I'd appreciate being allowed in, either alone or with the rest of the team."

"And I'd enjoy having you, either way." She'd liked the pairing that, even with Enforcement's dispensation, it was wisest to confine oneself to in civilization--but she'd also liked, and taken full advantage of, the opportunities offered by an entire team in one of the shelters the Service put up for its people traveling in remote areas. She cut off those memories sternly, before they could become too painful. "Unfortunately, the attack left me incapable of that pleasure."

"Dear God!" Pritchett said, looking sick. "There must be something that can be done!"

"Cosmetically, yes, my doctor says. Nothing . . . erotically useful." Cortin grinned sourly. "Which I don't think upset her unduly. She's a good doctor, but a typical civilian. I'm learning to live with that, as well as the pain. I appreciate your concern, but if you'll excuse me the Terran slang, what can't be cured must be endured; don't worry about it." She stood, extending a hand. "Welcome again, Tiny."

* * * * *

It took two dozen more interviews over the next couple of days to find the other two members she wanted for Team Azrael. Odeon had conducted the interviews with both; she promised herself she'd have a private talk with each of them later, when they were less pushed for time. One was Lt. David Bain, demolitions expert and the backup Inquisitor she'd hoped to find, a tall blue-eyed brunet with an easy grin; the other was Lt. Anthony Degas, a quiet, self-contained small-arms expert who could have been the model for Michelangelo's David. She could have had more--some teams had over a dozen--but she and Odeon wanted to keep Team Azrael small and mobile enough to respond quickly.

With the team complete, Cortin had them begin training together every morning. She herself started the day with Mass for the Detention Center Inquisitors and their guests, as she'd promised, losing herself in the ceremony and coming back to mundane reality only when it was over and she removed the stole. After breakfast was the team training, then lunch, followed by individual work or study. For her, that meant interrogations--and she decided quickly to allow Bain to do the preliminary stages, concentrating her own attention on the stubborner subjects. With a limited, if uncertain, time before they had to be ready, she had to get Odeon past his squeamishness as quickly as possible so she could start training him as her assistant.

It was Saturday before he managed to get through a session without throwing up, and she didn't think it proper to conduct interrogations on Sunday except in an emergency, so it was Monday when she started teaching him. The subject was a young Brother that Bain evaluated as having no useful information, but as being strong enough to survive up to a week of teaching sessions. Cortin preferred to go after something specific, make it a contest between her and her subject, even though it was a contest she was almost certain to win. But teaching was as valid a function as extracting information, and it would insure that the Brother served at least one useful function in his life while paying for his crimes against the Kingdoms.

Their subject was waiting when they entered the interrogation suite's third-stage room, prepared as usual: naked, with some bruising, spreadeagled between ceiling chains and floor eyebolts. Cortin gestured at him, speaking to Odeon. "You've already noticed I keep our methods simple, Captain; the reason is that almost all our work will be done in the field, so I think it best to practice with equipment we can either take or adapt there. This method of securing a subject is an example; you can almost always find trees and ropes, while you'll seldom if ever find a surgical table. The same principle goes for drugs; we use ones like algetin or eroticine that are effective, simple to administer, and can easily be replaced at a shelter or detention center. Any questions so far?"

"No, ma'am." Odeon had been more concerned with keeping his stomach under control than with evaluating her methods and techniques, but thinking back, he realized she had kept them to the basics.

"Good." Cortin went to the prisoner. "The preliminary examination seems simple, but it will give you both physical and psychological information invaluable to the interrogation process itself." She ran fingers over the subject's face and throat. "For instance, Lieutenant Bain has convinced this one that arguing back is not a good idea, although there is little damage visible; that tells me he is easily intimidated, and would not normally require third-stage interrogation."

"Why, then?" the subject burst out. "I told--"

Cortin backhanded him across the throat. "Because I need a training aid, and you were available. Now be silent." She paused, but saw no sign of disobedience. "That's better."

She continued her examination and commentary to Odeon. "No particular sensitivity around the ears . . . about average for the eyes . . . rest of the face and throat the same . . . minor sensitivity at the nipples, promising . . . ribs tender in spots . . . same over the kidneys, have to be careful there if we want him to last; internal injuries should be avoided in an extended interrogation." She paused, turning to Odeon. "We are getting to a particularly interesting area now. There are a few rare subjects who do not seem to mind being naked to an Inquisitor, or having their buttocks and genitals handled--but in most cases, a subject's sexuality is his most vulnerable area, in theory especially so to a female Inquisitor. Physically, these areas are extremely rich in nerves; psychologically, they are ego-centers. Both make them easy targets, which is why I seldom exploit them early; if the subject cooperates without that particular pressure, nothing is lost since you can still use it as punishment if you feel it desirable. If the subject does not cooperate, you can be almost positive he will when you add that pressure to the rest. A perfect example is the first interrogation you saw me conduct."

Where Illyanov had raped the subject while Joanie finished her skinning of him with his genitals. "Yes, ma'am, I remember--though I'm afraid I don't understand how the Major could have been . . . able . . . to do his part."

Cortin grinned without humor. "You'll see, perhaps with this subject, probably within another two or three. It's a reaction I'm no longer capable of, but it's perfectly normal for pain--usually another's, but sometimes your own--to provoke arousal. I'm told it's similar to the pre-danger form we're all familiar with."

Odeon nodded slowly. Put that way, he thought he could understand, at least a little.

"With this one, if you feel the urge, go ahead; in a serious interrogation, I may need for you to wait till it's most useful."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good." Cortin turned back to her subject, probing between his buttocks, pleased when he whimpered. "Brothers, in particular, express a strong revulsion for what they choose to call 'unnatural' sex--but you would be surprised how many of the older ones show evidence of having participated in it repeatedly. I know I was." She probed deeper, hearing truth in her subject's cries of horrified denial. "This one, however, seems not to be party to such, ah, rarefied pleasures. Yet." She moved to his front, stroking the underside of his penis and smiling at his uncertain response. "Or to more usual ones, it seems. Is it possible you are a virgin, Brother? I do find that hard to believe."

"Yes . . ." the subject gasped.

"Intriguing . . . I will have to inform my colleagues. But you will cooperate in anything Captain Odeon wants of you?"

"No, please!"

"Don't bother begging; I am not inclined to show a Brother any more mercy than they showed me. The primary difference is that I finish the job."

The youth stared at her, then shook his head. "No, you can't be--the Bitch is dead!"

Cortin started to hit him for his insolence, then paused. "Perhaps she is," she said thoughtfully. "But if they killed the Bitch, they gave birth to Azrael." She turned to Odeon. "I gather the Brothers don't believe the news stories of my survival. That is unfortunate; for the maximum psychological impact, they should." She turned back to the subject, frowning as she studied him, her fists on her hips. "Is that it, Brother?"

The young man shook his head, then nodded. "Sort of . . . the Raidmaster says you're alive, and a few may believe him, but the others in the raiding party say you can't be--an' since no one wants you to be, well . . ."

"I see." Cortin's frown deepened as she thought. "I had not intended to permit any Brother who came to me to live--but I begin to think I should make an exception, use you as a messenger and advertisement."

"You can't just let him go!" Odeon exclaimed.

"No, of course not--that would give the wrong impression." Cortin scowled as her subject licked dry lips. "He is a Brother, by definition deserving of a painful death and eternal damnation. Conventional punishment, however--especially mine--would leave him in no shape for anything except intensive care or a disabled ward. If you have any suggestions, I would appreciate them."

"Um." Odeon thought for several minutes, then said slowly, "I don't know if it's possible, but what you said about sexual vulnerability gives me an idea. He's a virgin, and he had a strong negative reaction when you mentioned homosex, both of which his superiors must know about him. He's also beautiful--so how about turning him into a catamite for them?"

Cortin turned to him in surprise. She hadn't expected anything that creative; it certainly wouldn't have occurred to her. "It should be possible, given the appropriate drugs and experiences--I like it."

"What's a catamite?" the subject asked apprehensively.

"A young male prostitute, especially one for older men."

The subject looked sick. "No, please--it's not right!"

"It isn't as if homosexuality were still banned," Cortin said reprovingly. Thanks to St. Eleanor and the Compassionate Mother, sexual orientation had been recognized as something one was born with, like blue eyes or black skin, and no more blameworthy; the Church even recognized stable pairings as equivalent to common-law marriage, though it still didn't grant them the sacrament of Holy Matrimony.

"Even if I were that, I'm no whore! I won't--you can't make me!"

"Wrong on both counts," Cortin said pleasantly. "We can, and on the physical level, you will find it most enjoyable. How you feel about it emotionally may be less pleasant, and I hope it is. It goes against my grain to release a Brother, and you may assure the rest that you will be the only one--but if I must let you live, even for my own purposes, simple justice demands that you suffer." She turned to Odeon. "I can handle the drugs and overall direction, but I obviously cannot participate in the operation itself. We'll need more than you to partner him, too, if we want him properly promiscuous; if you'll check with the rest of the team, I'll check with my fellow Inquisitors." She grinned. "I'm sure several of them will find this project interesting enough to want to participate as their own projects permit." She looked around, then chuckled. "These aren't appropriate surroundings, though; I'll have to arrange for some redecoration." She turned to the subject. "Under the circumstances, anonymity isn't appropriate either; what's your name?"

"Charles Powell," he said sullenly.

"Very well, Charles." She went to the instrument table and loaded a hypodermic, then returned to him. "This is eroticine, a potent aphrodisiac. Under its influence, you will have no interest in anything except sex, of whatever type your partner wants. And I assure you, you will find it most pleasant."

Powell shivered as she made the injection, but said nothing.

"It will take effect in about five minutes." Cortin turned to Odeon. "I'm going to make arrangements for the redecoration, and ask whoever's around if they'd be interested in helping with his tutoring. You can wait if you want, or release him and begin his lessons when you see the eroticine taking effect. It'll definitely be noticeable--and as I told him, he won't be interested in minor distractions like fighting."

Odeon nodded. "I'll do whatever looks best when he shows a reaction."

"Good enough." Cortin left, thinking it would be useful if she could help in the redirection. Mike, plus any of the other men on the team and any Inquisitors who were interested, could handle the positive aspects of Powell's reorientation, but it would be even better if a woman could provide negative reorientation. She was incapable in one way, Piety in another, and you couldn't ask a civilian--even a paid-woman--to take part in something like this. There might be a few female enlisted personnel willing to take part, but by the time one could be found and brought here, it would be well after the Strike Force teams had left. Too late, in other words; she'd just have to hope the reorientation worked without that. She scowled, angry at herself. If she'd realized, rather than just read, that even a simulation of sexual function could be this important, she'd have insisted on what little Dr. Egan had admitted to being able to do. Too late for that as well, now, though; she'd talk to Sis later, see what she could do when they had some time available. A synthetic vaginal passage shouldn't be more than minor surgery, well within a medic's abilities--and Sis would be able to understand why she wanted it, even knowing its limitations.

* * * * *

The Powell project proved even more popular with her team and the Inquisitors than Cortin had expected. And, after a night of considerable thought, she'd reluctantly decided that she couldn't direct it properly if she couldn't take part, so she'd turned direction of the project over to Illyanov, who'd promised to handle it as well as he could, as far as the subject was concerned acting under her instructions. She made it a point to spend some time in the observation center every morning, though, following Powell's progress.

The redecoration she'd ordered was in place the first morning; the third-stage room of Interrogation Suite Delta now looked more like a courtesan's room at the New Eden. Most of the equipment was still in place, she knew, but the surgical table had been replaced by a wide bed, the floor now had thick rugs covering tile, and draperies hid drug and instrument cabinets, with others turning the harsh brilliance of overhead fluorescent lighting into soft pastels. Powell was still apprehensive despite the eroticine, looking as if he wanted to pull away when the Inquisitor with him began to caress him, but unable to resist the drug. Cortin disliked seeing a Brother display even the little enjoyment Powell did, despite the fact his pleasure was drug-enforced, but she was pleased that his tutor was obviously enjoying himself.

The next day, Powell's apprehension had disappeared; when she entered the observation room, he was absorbed in his tutor's instruction. Cortin found it amusing that he took to his lessons so readily, and that his instructors were so gentle and patient. It wouldn't surprise her too much, she thought, if they decided they wanted to keep him; she might even agree, for their sakes, if his testimony to his Brother superiors weren't so important to her plans.

The day after that, Chang and an Inquisitor were coaching him on relaxation techniques. By now, he seemed eager to learn, even more eager to try what he was being taught, and Cortin found her hostility to him diminishing. He seemed more like an innocent boy now than like a Brother of Freedom, and she found herself hoping, when the Inquisitor had him roll over for a practical demonstration, that he wouldn't find it too distressing.

He didn't; when his instructor began penetration, his sounds and movements were ones of unmistakable pleasure, increasing rapidly as the Inquisitor rode and manipulated him. To Cortin's surprise, she was pleased when Powell's enjoyment peaked at his climax. When she left the observation room after telling one of the techs to have Chang report to her when the session was over, she found herself thinking Powell would be wasted on the Brothers--but told herself sternly that he would do well, for both her plan and herself.

An hour later, Chang joined her in the Inquisitors' Lounge. "Good day, Captain," she said. "A most interesting experiment, though perhaps a bit too reminiscent of what was done to me for complete comfort."

"If you want out, all you have to do is say so," Cortin told her. "The last thing I want to do is make things worse for you."

"I do not," the nun said with a brief smile. "While it is reminiscent, the purpose is entirely different, and for a good cause. By God's grace, that relieves the discomfort. And as I said, I enjoy watching others enjoy themselves. So: is there anything more I can do to help?"

"Not with him, no. With others in the future, maybe." Cortin went on to explain what she would have liked to do, and what she would like from Chang whenever it was possible. "Can you do that?"

"Easily; as you say, it is minor surgery. However, it may--and I stress may--not be necessary to settle for function without sensation."

"Nerves don't regenerate," Cortin said flatly. "Dr. Egan was quite emphatic about that. And the necessary tissue is gone."