by Ann Wilson
4. Ordination
St. Thomas, Tuesday, 23 July 2571
About mid-afternoon, Shannon was leaning back in his desk chair,planning the March raid that would supposedly mark the beginning of theBrotherhood's real push against the Kingdoms, when he sensed a use ofpower that had to be Cortin. It was weak, barely detectable, butundeniably there, and he swore viciously. Even the slightestdeliberate use she made of her power might lead to more . . . did hedare check to see if it was deliberate?
That should be safe enough, he decided at last. It was far moredifficult to detect a passive use such as observing than an active onesuch as coercion or physical alteration, and Cortin's use was weakenough it might well be unconscious.
Despite his decision that the risk was low, he was cautious inextending his sensitivity toward her. When he made contact, though, hefelt a sense of relief. Her use was unconscious, which meant there wasno immediate danger.
He could have retreated then, but he was too intrigued; she was gettingher first practical experience as an Inquisitor, and he couldn't resistthe temptation to watch.
The subject was one of the Brotherhood's suppliers. Too cowardly toactually join the Brotherhood, but a skillful thief who could generallyget what the Brothers wanted, and sold it to them at about half whathe'd charge anyone else. It was a shame to lose him, but worth it towatch Cortin work on her first victim, whether she turned out to be theincomparable expert he expected if she had the nerve, or the totalincompetent he expected if she didn't.
"Are you a Brother of Freedom?" she asked the prisoner.
"No."
Cortin nodded. "Then have you worked for them?"
"Not that, either."
"In that case, we can proceed. I don't suppose you'd care to answer myquestions without unpleasantness?"
"I don't have anything to tell you."
"The choice is yours." Cortin picked up a scalpel, pausing at theexpression on Illyanov's face. "Is something wrong, Major?"
"That is not the standard way of beginning an interrogation."
"It will be, for me," Cortin said. "I'll do whatever is needed to stopcriminals, but I have no intention of hurting innocents."
"He denied everything."
"But he only told the truth the first time. He's worked for theBrothers, even though he isn't one himself, and he has some significantinformation."
"You never told me you had truthsense," Illyanov said quietly. "Thatis a most useful talent."
"The subject never came up--but I can't be lied to, never could even asa child. If a question has a yes-or-no answer, it doesn't matter if hetells the truth or not. I'll know."
"As I said, a most useful talent. Not every Inquisitor can tell truthfrom lies intended only to stop the pain, and most of us who do havethat ability have developed it through long experience." He smiled ather in a way Shannon sensed was intended to express only approval, buthid a degree of affection the Raidmaster found both disgusting andamusing. "Go on, then."
Shannon watched critically as she began work. This would be a shortinterrogation--despite his bravado, the thief was a coward, and alreadyterrified of the two Inquisitors--but it would tell him whether or notCortin would make the grade.
The first few minutes left him with no doubt that she would. Oh, shehad some problems--the determination not to hurt innocents, as if therewere any such thing, was one. Another was giving her prisoner thechance to answer without persuasion, then not wanting to use any morethan she had to, though neither surprised him particularly; she hadalways been overly scrupulous. Which was probably why her primarymotive was to extract information rather than to enjoy herself.
It was ironic that she was enjoying herself, and thoroughly, eventhough it wasn't the same kind of pleasure he experienced in givingpain. For her, the only real passion involved here was for justice;criminals caused pain, so it was just to inflict it on them, either aspunishment or in the interest of preventing further crime. It wassimply more immediate this way than it had been in the past--and itgave her victims the unfortunate opportunity to repent. Even thoughright now Cortin was concerned with punishment rather than repentance.
* * * * *
Cortin removed the blood-spattered coverall, then went into the suite'ssmall bathroom to wash her hands, feeling dissatisfied. She couldn'tquite identify why, though; she had eventually persuaded the thief thatshe could tell when he was lying to her, and he had finally told themof his contacts within the Brotherhood, giving enough details thatthose two would be taken into custody next time they appeared inpublic. Neither theft nor contact with the Brotherhood were capitalcrimes, so once she'd made sure he knew nothing of Shannon or thehorror raids, she'd called the guards and had him taken away forsentencing.
Major Illyanov had said she'd done well, she reminded herself as sheput her tunic back on. So why should she feel otherwise? The answer,of course, was that she shouldn't--but the fact remained that she did.Well, she'd be trying again after lunch, on that trooper who'd gonerogue; maybe she'd do better with him.
Shortly afterward, she and Illyanov entered the Inquisitors' lounge.The only one there was Mike Odeon, slouched in an armchair with hisfeet up on a hassock and what she could only call a positively smuglook on his face. It took no effort at all to realize that his phoninghad been successful; she grinned, her mood lightening. "Is it stillCaptain," she asked, "or do I call you 'Father' now?"
"Depends on the circumstances," Odeon said, returning her grin lazily."Until after the next horror raid, anyway." He stood, turning toIllyanov with a more sober expression. "Which you're not to talk abouteven as a rumor, sir. Colonel Bradford asked me whose deductions I wasgoing by--I suppose he knows my records well enough to be sure theyweren't mine--and I'm to tell you the whole thing is rated anall-Systems secret, until King Mark says otherwise."
"Understood--and I will of course comply." Illyanov bowed slightly."But since I did deduce this much, will you be able to tell me howcorrect I was?"
"Now that I can do, along with a bit more," Odeon said, grinning again."And our lunch is courtesy of Inquisitor-Colonel Bradford--it should behere any time. If you don't mind, I'd just as soon wait till then togo any further."
"As you wish."
Odeon's prediction was correct; their lunch arrived less than half aminute later, and not long afterward, they were eating a meal thatmight have come from the Royal Palace itself.
All three spent some time in silent enjoyment, then Cortin couldn'thold her curiosity any more. "How did you do it, Mike?"
"No problem, Joanie--none at all." Odeon smiled at her. "I have thefeeling he expected my call, though I don't know how he could've. Atany rate, I asked about both of us applying, and made what I think wasa rather eloquent argument on our behalves. He listened to me, eventhough I have a sneaky feeling he knew everything I was going tosay--then he said we were in, and called me to the Palace forordination. Our new Commanding Officer is also Bishop of the St.Thomas Strike Force, it seems." He grinned. "If you still want to goto Mass tomorrow, I'd like you to come to my first one. Even if itwill have to be private."
"I'd be honored," Cortin said. "What about my application?"
Odeon laughed. "Looked at your ID lately, Inquisitor-Captain?" Then hesobered, quickly. "No, I'm sorry--you're in, Joanie. Probably as ateam leader, if you get anything useful out of your first subjects--asteam-second, at worst. And we'll be on the same team, whoever's CO."He frowned. "But--Joanie, His Holiness has decreed that all StrikeForce Inquisitors be priests, since it's conceivable even a Brothermight repent at the last minute and need the sacraments. But you neversaid anything about having that call."
"Because you just told me about it," Cortin said. "It's pretty obviousmy primary call is to being a Strike Force Inquisitor; if part of thatis taking Holy Orders, I'll do it. And I'll do my best to be a goodpriest." With a lot of prayers that she never be called on toadminister to a Brother that way . . . "Do I nee
d to be ordained rightaway, or can I take care of this afternoon's subject first?"
"I get the impression he wants us to be ready to go any time, so I'dsay you should get in touch with him sometime today. How long do youthink this subject'll take you?"
Cortin shrugged. "No real idea, though I don't think he'll be easy."
"I believe you should count on a minimum of several hours," Illyanovsaid. "Probably no less than a day, perhaps a bit more. He was anEnforcement trooper, after all, and was trained to resistinterrogation."
"You've got one of those?" Odeon smiled, wolfishly. "My urge is totell you to take care of him before you do anything else, but StrikeForce business has to come before even that. So I'd recommend you seeColonel Bradford first."
"That's not necessary."
Cortin recognized the "Lieutenant's" voice and and started to rise, butwas stopped by his next words. "As you were, gentles--and thank you,Major, for not giving me away." He pulled up a chair and joined them.
"Pleased to be of help, sir." Illyanov managed a seated bow. "Ipresume you are not here by chance?"
"Not at all, Major." Bradford smiled, the expression making him lookyears younger. "My interest in Captain Cortin led me to be sure I wasinformed of her choice of subject, and I wanted to review the filmswhen she was done." He turned to Cortin, still smiling. "I hadn'texpected you to choose two, especially not the first time, andespecially not ones with so little promise. I've got to compliment youon how well you did with the first one."
Cortin shook her head. "With all respect, sir, I don't think I didthat well. I just hope I can do better with the rogue."
"Maybe you can, at that," Bradford said. "As Major Illyanov said, notevery Inquisitor can tell truth from lies intended only to stop thepain, and not many of those learn it the first time with a subject; ifyou can do that already, there's no telling what you'll be able to dowith a little experience."
"As I told him, it's something I've had since childhood. I can't claimany special credit."
Bradford chuckled. "You don't have to, as long as it works," he saiddrily. "It's still a good sign, as is the fact that you enjoy our workfrom the start. There are those who never do, and they're naturallyfree to find something else--but I'd imagine you're anxious to get towork again."
"Yes, sir, I am."
"Good." Bradford stood. "In that case, shall we go to the chapel foryour Ordination? I'm afraid the secrecy we're under for the time beingmeans it can't be as elaborate as a civilian ordination, but you can beassured it will be effective."
"I don't doubt it, sir." It didn't seem quite proper to haveOrdination without public acknowledgement, but Mike's must have beenthat way too, and since it obviously didn't bother him, she couldn'tlet it upset her. "I'm at your disposal."
The brief ceremony over, Bradford returned to the Palace while Cortin,Odeon and Illyanov made their way to the suite where her prisonerwaited. It might have been a brief, basic ceremony, Cortin thought,but it was one she would remember for the rest of her life, from theunprecedented sight of an armed Bishop in Enforcement uniform and stoleto the anointing of her hands. She rubbed the oil that was still onthem. It was hard to believe she was really a priest now, far harderthan it had been to believe she was an Inquisitor when she saw thebadge in her ID folder--but of course she'd had some preparation forthat, where half an hour ago it had never occurred to her that she'd bea priest. As she'd told Mike, though, if she had to be a priest to bea Strike Force team's Inquisitor, so be it. What surprised her wasBradford's acceptance of her necessity; the only explanation she couldthink of was that the Strike Force needed Priest-Inquisitors badlyenough they'd ordain anyone who claimed both vocations. That wasunsettling in its own way, but since it served her purpose, she wasn'tinclined to argue.
The three entered the suite and went through the routine of gettinginto coveralls. Odeon wasn't sure why he was there, except that Joaniehadn't asked him to leave and he'd never seen a third-stageinterrogation--though he'd both seen and helped in several second-stageones. He said as much, then continued, "So if you need me to doanything, you'll have to tell me."
"I will," Cortin promised. "I didn't send you away because it didn'toccur to me, but I'm certain to need help in the field from time totime, and there's no one I'd rather have backing me. So if you'rewilling, you should get used to both third-stage and my methods."
"I'm willing--especially," he opened the door to the third-stage roomwhere the prisoner was shackled, waiting, "when the subject's someonelike this plaguer. Renegades and Brothers deserve anything anInquisitor does to them."
"Keep thinkin' that, cull," the prisoner sneered. "You ain't worth theeffort it'd take to spit on you. You or that other bastard, or theBitch."
Cortin looked him over, cooly. He was naked, spreadeagled betweenchains in the ceiling and eyebolts in the floor, and must know he wascompletely at the Inquisitor's mercy--but he probably didn't know shewas the Inquisitor. With all three of them in coveralls, he had no wayof knowing who was who, just that he was faced with two men and a woman.
The Special Ops men who had beaten him had done a fairly professionaljob, she decided. Not enough to eliminate his defiance, but enough togive her quite a number of tender areas to exploit in addition to thenatural ones. She smiled, approaching him and showing him the backs ofher hands. "I'm the one you call the Enforcement bitch, rogue. Isurvived the Brothers' torture, unfortunately for you and the rest ofthem. Because I intend to return the favor without the mistake, andyou will tell me how to find the specific ones who damaged me."
"I'm not tellin' you a damn thing, Bitch!"
"Wrong, and you know it," Cortin said calmly, beginning the examinationthat would tell her where his flesh was most sensitive and thus mostvulnerable to her persuasion. "You will perhaps tell me less than Iwish, but you will tell me as much as you can."
He jerked away as she probed a dark bruise over his ribs. "Like hell Iwill!"
"We shall see." Cortin hid a smile, a bit surprised at herself. She'dnoticed a little of it last time, but it seemed to be getting stronger:when she conducted an interrogation, she adopted Illyanov's speechpatterns--perhaps as a reaction to the prisoner's crudity, perhaps as atribute to her teacher, she didn't know, and it didn't really seem tomatter. "I think that before too long you will be most curious as tothe information I want, and you will be increasingly eager to give itto me. When you do, I will release you."
She was pleased to see the prisoner starting to look apprehensive. Hestill had his defiance, though. "You damn servants of corruption neverlet anyone go! So why should I believe you'll start with me?"
"I did not mean that kind of release, as you should know, having been atrooper yourself. I meant only that I will release you from yourpain." She explored further, identifying areas of promise from hissounds and flinching. It was a temptation to relieve him of hisgenitals, she thought as she reached them, but that would beshort-sighted; from her own torture, as well as her studies, she knewthem to be capable of some of the body's most exquisite pain. No, shewould leave them where they could be of the most use--right where theywere.
For Shannon's reaction: Reaction
Odeon watched in revolted fascination as his Joanie stripped skin, withprecise delicacy, from the screaming renegade's hands. He'd expectedher to go after the plaguer's manhood in retaliation for what had beendone to her, but--except for a couple of times he'd been lying soobviously it was an insult--she had left that alone.
When she finished her subject's hands, Cortin stepped back to studyhim. She had discovered quickly that his personal horrors includedbeing skinned alive, so that had become her primary tactic against him.It was slow--enjoyably so, for her--and it was working very nicelyindeed. "Have you decided to cooperate yet?"
"Damn you, Bitch!" The renegade tried to spit at her, without success."Do your damndest--you won't get nothin' from me!"
Cortin smiled. He was still defiant, true, but Illyan
ov agreed withher assessment that he was the type who would remain defiant until hebroke abruptly, and the same sense that told her when he was lying nowtold her he was close to that abrupt break. Give him the properphysical and psychological stimuli, and he should go from defiance tosurrender in seconds.
She had already planned what to do, a continuation of her primarytactic--but a little bit of insurance wouldn't hurt. She turned to theother two. "Would either of you gentlemen care to avail yourselves ofour guest while he still has enough spirit to be interesting? I fear Iam being greedy, keeping him to myself."
Illyanov smiled, bowing to her. She hadn't been avoiding an extremelyuseful technique, as he had been half afraid she was, because it hadbeen done to her; she had merely postponed it until the optimum time."It is generous of you to share, Inquisitor. It has been some timesince I have had the opportunity to indulge myself in another'ssubject. I will not interrupt your work?"
Both ignored the renegade's protests and insults as Cortin returned thebow. "Not at all--your enjoyment of him should make the removal of hisgenital skin even more effective." And enjoyable . . . "Particularlyif you can make him move enough that it is he who pulls himself free ofit."
"That should pose no particular difficulty."
If it hadn't been his Joanie doing the work, his Joanie who might needhis help, Odeon would have taken advantage of his non-Inquisitor statusto leave. He'd taken part in some second-stage interrogations, onoccasion enjoyed them if the recipient had done something particularlyrevolting--but even the most methodical of those beatings seemed morehuman, cleaner, than the cool, meticulous infliction of pain bothInquisitors so obviously enjoyed. At first he'd thought Joanie'senjoyment a pretense intended to make her subject's torment harder toendure, but he couldn't convince himself of that any longer. Joaniewas enjoying her subject's anguish, taking a delight in his screams andwrithings that Odeon found sickening. But it was Joanie; after whathad been done to her, surely she had a right to whatever pleasures shecould find . . .
Cortin was beginning to think she'd miscalculated her subject'sresistance when screams of defiance turned abruptly, as anticipated,into hopeless whimpering sobs mixed with pleas for mercy. She lookedpast him to Illyanov, who nodded; while he finished, she went to theinstrument table and picked up a slender, razor-sharp dagger.
"Here is the end to your pain," she said softly, laying it against theraw flesh of the rogue's throat. "As soon as you answer my questions,I will give you your release. You have learned that you cannot lie tome; try it again, and you will find what has happened so far only thebeginning. Do you understand?"
"Yes . . . Oh, God, no more!"
"That is up to you, not Him; you gave up any claim on His Mercy whenyou pledged allegiance to His enemies." Though, an inner voice said,he could still repent . . . "Tell me about Lawrence Shannon. Who heis, where he is, what his plans are."
"I don't know all that . . . please, I don't!"
He was telling the truth, unfortunately. "Very well. Tell me what youdo know, then."
"I'm . . . not sure. No! Honest--he's the Raidmaster, everyone knowsthat--plans all the new-style raids--but nobody knows him. A LawrenceShannon even leads all those raids, but not the same one, maybe not theone who plans 'em. An' that's all I know about 'im, honest!"
"I believe you," Cortin said. It was too bad he knew so little, andthat so inconclusive, but she had no doubt that he was telling her allhe did know, as she'd asked. "Have you heard anything else? It neednot be certain--a rumor of his plans, perhaps."
"No . . . no, wait . . . maybe. I overheard something . . . a hospice. . . or could be a retirement home, or some sort of hospital. Oldfolks, or sick ones, anyway. That's all."
"All on that subject, or all on any?"
"All on any . . . please?"
"You have earned it." Cortin drove the knife up under his ear; hegasped, shuddered once, and died.
Cortin looked at him for a moment, then smiled. "Compared to yourpresent master, my friend, I was easy on you. May you suffer under himfor eternity."
Odeon tasted bile, knew suddenly he was going to be sick. "Joanie--"
She turned, saw his pale face, and hurried to him. "Can you make it tothe washroom?"
"I don't think--"
"No, he cannot," Illyanov interrupted, coming over and holding awastebasket.
Odeon had time for a grateful look before his stomach completed itsrebellion. He felt Joanie's hand stroking his head, heard bothInquisitors telling him it was all right as they helped him into thesuite's outer room and got him seated. When he was finished, Joaniehanded him a towel; he wiped his mouth and looked up at them. "I'msorry."
"That is a normal reaction," Illyanov said calmly. "There is no needto apologize; you did better than could have been expected."
"You should've left if it bothered you," Cortin said. "I'd like tohave you backing me, yes, but not if my work's going to upset you likethis."
"I'll get used to it," Odeon said stubbornly. "I can't promise I'llever get to like it, but I will learn to handle it well enough to giveyou any backup you need."
"You set yourself a difficult task," Illyanov said. "I feel safe inpredicting you will not come to like it; observing you, I would say youlack the quirk of mind required to take pleasure in another's pain.With adequate motivation, time, and exposure, however, you may developenough tolerance to be able to assist."
"I'll settle for that." Odeon's stomach churned again at the thoughtof doing what Illyanov had, unsure whether he was pleased or not at theMajor's prognosis. In a way, it'd be good to share Joanie's pleasureeven in that . . . "What do I do, sit in on all her interrogations?"
"I would normally recommend that you begin with a less talentedInquisitor," Illyanov said, "as that would be less unpleasant for you.However, Captain Cortin is the one you will be teamed with, so perhapsit would indeed be as well if you work with her from the beginning."
"Less talented?" Odeon asked, puzzled. "That doesn't make sense."
"If you think for a moment," Illyanov said gently, "you will find itmakes very good sense. One with less talent cannot judge tolerances aswell, is not as sensitive to an individual subject's particular dreads,is more likely to believe lies told to please him and stop theinterrogation, and--although this is also true of Captain Cortin, untilshe acquires experience to match her theoretical knowledge and rawtalent--apt to let the subject die before extracting all possibleinformation."
"Put that way, it does make sense," Odeon admitted. "I've neverthought about Inquisitors very much--or the talents you have to have."
"Few people do," Illyanov said drily. "Few people care to think muchabout us, fewer still about how we obtain our results--even though theyhave no objections to using those results. We get few thanks and lesspraise for what we do, so it is well that God grants us the mercy ofderiving our satisfaction from the work itself."
Odeon nodded. That was something else he'd never thought about . . .and again, it made sense. "I understand, I think. So I'll work withher whenever she's doing an interrogation, then?"
"Yes. When you feel able to assist, you will of course be covered byher Warrant." He looked at his watch, then grinned ruefully at Cortin."I thought we had been busy for some time, but I had not realized I hadlost track of time to this degree. It is almost midnight--I think wehad best call it a day immediately, and pray Doctor Egan does not findout how late I kept you. I am not feeling sucicidal enough to face herif she feels I have been overworking you again."
"Neither am I! Once was more than enough." The chewing out Egan hadgiven tham when she'd caught them in a tutoring session after visitinghours was one Cortin would remember with respect for some time. "Seeyou at breakfast?"
"It would be my pleasure."
* * * * *
Cortin slept soundly, and when she woke early it was in anticipation ofassisting at Mike's First Mass and then celebrating her own. She foundher
self looking forward to both of them more than she could rememberhaving done since her First Communion, after the way the previous day'shad made her feel.
Her anticipation suffered a setback, though, when she found a note fromMike in her message box; he'd been asked to say his First Mass for somenewly-arrived Strike Force selectees, and he said she would have aswell if she hadn't still been on hospital status. She didn't see howsaying Mass could be more strenuous than conductinginterrogations--though maybe Egan didn't know she'd done any--but shecouldn't object.
For Odeon's First Mass: Odeon's First Mass