by Ann Wilson
2. Hospital
St. Thomas, Thursday, 20 June 2571
Odeon was still perplexed by the previous afternoon's odd meeting whenhe got to Joanie's room the morning after her surgery. The door wasopen, but he tapped on it and called her name anyway.
"Mike!" Cortin hoped he could hear the welcome she tried to put in hervoice. "Come in, please!" She watched him approach, holding backtears. Mike had been her ideal since the day she'd met him, and she'ddone her best to live up to his example of cool, impartialprofessionalism. He was an outstanding officer, an exemplary son ofthe Church; he certainly wouldn't come apart, so she had to conceal heranguish. She couldn't forfeit his respect for her by collapsing, eventhough the Brothers had maimed and perhaps crippled her.
He entered, smiling as he saw her. Her head and hands were bandaged,along with most of one arm; her face had half a dozen cuts and bruisesnot worth bandaging; and her ribs had undoubtedly been strapped tightunder her hospital gown, but-- "You're looking a lot better than youwere the last time I saw you. How do you feel?"
"Right now, I mostly don't. They've got me so heavily doped up it's amiracle I'm awake and coherent. At least I hope I am. Coherent, thatis; I know I'm awake."
"You sound fine to me," Odeon assured her. He leaned over, kissed herforehead. "Ready for my report?"
"Not until you do better than that," she said. "I know you can, and asfar as I can tell, my mouth is all right."
"As good as ever, but I don't hug people with broken ribs." He kissedher as thoroughly as he thought possible without hurting her, thenpulled up a chair to sit beside the bed.
Her first question gave him an unpleasant shock. "Have you put me infor Special Ops?"
"What?" he said, trying to stall. Dammit, she wasn't supposed to knowshe was eligible yet!
Cortin sighed. "I don't need a doctor to know I've been spayed, Mike.The incision in my belly, after what the Brothers did to me, makes itobvious I'll never have a family. It was unlikely before; now it'ssimply impossible. You can thank God I'm on sedatives right now, orI'd probably be a raving maniac. So answer the question."
"I have, yes. I found out day before yesterday that you'd be eligible,took the paperwork to Headquarters yesterday as soon as Doctor Egantold me you'd made it through the surgery with a reasonably goodprognosis, and started to walk it through." He paused, frowning.
"And?"
"I don't know," Odeon said slowly. "Personnel didn't seem toointerested in doing anything about the waiver request at first, until Iraised my voice a bit." He chuckled briefly. "It seems office workersare more than a little apprehensive about an upset Special Ops man. Atany rate, once I convinced them to do more than glance at the forms, Iwas very politely escorted to a private office--which is where it getsodd. Joanie, there was a colonel of His Majesty's Own there!"
"His Majesty's Own!" Cortin said, impressed. "So what happened?"
"Not much--which is what bothers me." Odeon frowned. "He took theforms, read them, nodded once, and told me not to tell anyone includingyou about the meeting. I asked what was going on, told him I had totell you something--but the only thing he'd say was that it was aclassified project, that you'd be given serious consideration, and thathe'd be in touch as soon as the decision was made. Typical bureaucrattalk--but the oddest thing is that I believe him."
"Did he give you any idea of when?"
Odeon shook his head. "No--but I'd guess not more than a few days.Full colonels don't work for long in bare-bones offices without evencarpeting."
"True, especially when they belong to His Majesty's Own. And I've gota couple of months before I'm well enough I have to make a finaldecision--I presume I am eligible for a disability discharge?"
"Yes, of course, at full pay. But I don't like what I think you'regetting at. Joanie, don't do anything you'll regret."
"I don't intend to," Cortin said quietly. "I know what I have to do,though. If I can stay in and do it, that's best, of course. If I haveto get out, though, I'll do that instead. One way or another, BrotherLawrence Shannon and the rest of them on that raiding party aregone--and so are any Brothers who get in my way to them." She lookedat her bandaged hands for a long moment, then back up at him. "WhichI'm sure you guessed when Egan passed along the information that I waskeeping their marks."
Odeon nodded. "Partly--that you'd go after them. Not that you'dconsider going rogue to do it." Enforcement took superlative care ofits members and their families, if they had any . . . but when atrooper went bad, all its resources went into hunting and then killinghim. Or her. Odeon had participated in three of those hunts, hatingthe necessity but as grimly determined as any to rid the world of them.Dammit, Enforcement troopers were sworn to protect the Kingdoms andtheir citizens--when one went rogue, he had to be stopped! And yet. . . the idea of taking part in such a hunt with Joanie as the targetupset him more than it should. Not that the alternative was anybetter! "Joanie, please--don't do it."
"As I said, I don't intend to." Cortin took a deep breath. "You knowme too well to believe I'd do something like going rogue if I had anychoice in the matter. And I need time and resources a rogue wouldn'tget, to do what I have to--but I can't do it if I'm stuck behind adesk, either." She frowned, still unable to make sense of the feelingof absolute certainty that had come over her during the Brothers'torture. "Mike, we both know I'm as practical and non-mystical asanyone could be--but while the Brothers were working me over, I . . .realized, or discovered, or something, that eliminating them is my job.It helps that I have a personal reason for wanting to, but that's abonus. Whatever happens to me, whatever I have to do to accomplish it,I don't have any choice about the fact. I have to get rid of theBrothers--and I plan to enjoy it." She stared at her hands again."Then I may be able to get rid of these Hell-marks. Can you understandthat?"
"I think so--and God help me, I couldn't blame you if you did go afterthem on your own. But I'd still have to help hunt you down." Odeonwas less positive of that than he made himself sound, though. Hewasn't at all certain he'd be able to, even if not doing it meant he'dshare her outlawry--if the thought of hunting her was upsetting, theidea of actually harming her was revolting. Worse than revolting,really--impossible was more like it.
The sudden awareness of that stunned him. He hadn't realized he feltso strongly about her! He shouldn't; no one in Special Ops should haveany more than professional respect for another person. There mostemphatically should not be anything like that strong a feeling! It wasalmost like--no. He was too professional to love anyone, especially afellow officer, however many times he might have shared a bed with himor her.
On the other hand, what else could it be? He'd have no objection tohunting down Wolf Corbett, say, if it were necessary--and Wolf had beenon his team the longest of any, almost a year now, and was the closestfriend other than Joanie that he had.
He sent up a quick prayer for guidance, and felt an immediate sense ofreassurance. He did love Joanie, and it was all right . . . but shedidn't love him yet, so there was no reason to burden her with theknowledge of his feelings.
"Is something wrong, Mike?" Cortin's voice brought him back to thepresent. "You look like you ate something that's disagreeing with you."
"No, I'm fine. It's your problems we should be worrying about now,anyway." Odeon made himself smile. "Let's assume you make it intothis classified project, and that it's something that'll let you at theBrothers."
"We might as well," Cortin said, shifting position slightly. "Thefirst thing is to get off these drugs. The sooner I learn to cope withwhat's happened, the sooner I can get to work. I need to get mystrength back, hone up my hand-to-hand combat, and do some seriousstudy of interrogation techniques. I'm okay at first-stage, butBrothers don't break that easily; I'm going to have to be more thanjust good, at all three stages. Especially third. Will you help me?"
"Of course." That was his Joanie, all right, Odeon thought proudly.No crying or self-pity
for her; instead, a plan that would let heraccomplish what she intended. He took the clipboard from the foot ofher bed and studied it for a moment. "Dear God! They do have you indeep, don't they? Do you want to make a cold break, or would yourather taper off?"
"Cold break," Cortin said firmly. Even though it was probably adecision she would regret, it was what she was certain he would havedone.
"Right." Odeon made the necessary notations, initialed each one, thenreplaced the clipboard. "You can't do much about exercise or combattraining until you're out of bed, but you can read . . . mmm. I thinkyou should go for an Inquisitor's Warrant, even though you won't beable to do the practical work right away. If you want to go thatroute, I know an instructor at the Academy who'll give you classroomcredit for reading the course materials and passing a test, then letyou do the practical when you're back on your feet."
Cortin nodded. "I would--thanks." The Warrant wouldn't do her anylegal good if she did go rogue, but she'd have the skill, and lettingher subjects know she'd had a Warrant should make it easier to breakthem. "How soon can I get the texts?"
"I should be able to have them for you by visiting hours tomorrow.Anything else?"
"Newspapers, please--and a pair of gloves, for when the bandages comeoff."
"No problem; Sergeant Vincent promised to send your gear along. Ifigure it should be here tomorrow or the next day."
"Thanks--I should have thought to ask."
"You did have other things on your mind at the time," Odeon pointedout. He hesitated, went on reluctantly. "Speaking of which, as soonas you feel up to it, you should be debriefed."
Cortin would have preferred to keep the information for her own use,but by the time she was able to do anything with it, it would beobsolete, useless. Best to pass it on to the debriefers, then hope herfellow Enforcement troops would keep the trail warm without taking thequarry that was rightfully hers. "I'll be glad to talk to them anytime they want. And if the team includes an artist, I think I candescribe the ones I saw well enough for him to draw."
"That would help--I'll make sure it has one. And I'll try to get themhere before the painkillers wear off; I don't think you'd want them tosee you in pain."
"I don't, and I wouldn't be able to cooperate as well, either. As soonas you can, then."
"I'll do that." Odeon turned to leave, then hesitated and turned back.Joanie went to church Sundays and holy days when she wasn't on duty,though she wasn't what he'd call really devout. Still, it wouldn'thurt to ask. "Would you like to see a priest?"
Not really, was her first reaction, but on the other hand, why not? Asusual, she didn't have anything to confess--part of her, with wryhumor, said it was because she hadn't the imagination to think of anyinteresting sins, as well as not having any opportunities. Might be agood idea to take advantage of this chance, though; if she wereaccepted for Special Ops, she'd be given Exceptional HolyOrders--empowered to carry out time-critical priestly functions, mostlyLast Rites--and she really ought to be sure of being ready forordination. "Maybe I should." She hesitated, then asked, "Mike--didyou give me Last Rites?"
Odeon shook his head. "By the time I got to you, Sergeant Vincent hadalready taken care of it."
"If you get a chance, will you thank him for me?"
"My pleasure." Odeon bent to kiss her goodbye, then paused whenbandaged hands took and held his.
Cortin looked up at him, her throat tight. Maybe he wouldn't fault herfor one bit of weakness . . . "Mike, I know I'm not a real woman anymore, but . . . maybe I can still function like one. Will you help mefind out? Please?"
"As soon as the plumbing's out and you feel up to it," Odeon promised,stricken by her uncharacteristic vulnerability. Blessed Mother of God,he prayed silently, don't let them have robbed her of that, too! She'slost the ability to have children; don't let her be condemned to theconstant danger we face without even this consolation! "Just let meknow when, Joanie. I'll be here for you." He kissed her again, andleft. Cortin watched him go, relieved. He'd been reassuring, notscornful, and that was a big help in itself.
* * * * *
She was kept busy the rest of the day, first by the priest, then bymedical personnel, and then--over Dr. Egan's objections--by thedebriefing team, which included the artist she'd asked for. It alsoincluded a lieutenant wearing the silver question-mark badge of one whoheld an Inquisitor's Warrant, and who was treated with a degree ofrespect that was highly unusual for a junior officer. Cortin made noteof that, then disregarded it; if she was under consideration forsomething classified, she had to expect some non-standard attention.And he was a good Inquisitor, whatever else he was, eliciting detailsshe didn't remember noticing, gaining her confidence even though shewas familiar with the techniques he was using, reading her face andbody language well enough that at times he seemed to be reading hermind instead. No, she thought when the team left, he was more than asimple lieutenant!
The drugs had worn off by early the next morning. When an orderlybrought her breakfast, Cortin was in physical pain and emotional shock,but she forced herself to be as polite as possible to the orderly, andthen to eat in spite of her lack of appetite. Afterward, she enduredthe medical attentions that brought more pain, telling herself she hadto go through that and the accompanying humiliation to reach her goal.She was glad when it was over and she was left alone; the only personshe had any real desire to see was Mike.
He arrived moments after visiting hours began. She started to greethim, but fell silent in shock when she saw his face. Mike had beencrying, and there were still tears in his eyes! Hesitantly, she held ahand out to him. "Mike--?"
He took it, tears again starting to fall. "Joanie--oh, Joanie, I'm sosorry!"
Her stomach churned with miserable certainty of his answer, but shemade herself ask, "What is it, Mike?"
"Dr. Egan said nurses had heard you talking in your sleep, that the badnews would be easier coming from me, but not to tell you yet, not tillyou were stronger . . ." He took a deep breath to steady his voice,though the tears were running unchecked down his face. Dammit, therewas no kind way to tell her this! "She's a civilian, she doesn'tunderstand that we can't afford false hopes. Or how important thisis--she told me that except for your back, you'd have a completerecovery!" He took another deep breath, trying with a little moresuccess to calm himself. "Joanie--I'll never share your bed again, andneither will anyone else, unless all you want is company."
"I'm totally non-functional, then," Cortin said flatly.
Odeon nodded miserably. "I'm afraid so. The Brothers . . . damagedyou too badly. Egan's team was able to salvage the urinary tract andmake a usable opening for it in the skin graft--but I'm afraid theother is gone, permanently."
Cortin clung to his hands, her mind numb. She wanted to scream, cry,do something to protest this additional, gratuitous despoilment--dearsweet Jeshua, they had been killing her, why do something sopointless?--but she didn't seem to have the will.
Odeon took her in his arms, stroking her and speaking quietly,reassuringly. She was taking it hard, of course--so was he,dammit!--and it was no wonder. Most civilians didn't understand, sothey resented the civil and canonical laws that exempted Enforcementpersonnel from the sexual restrictions everyone else was morally andlegally bound to observe--but, thanks to Saint Eleanor of theCompassionate Mother, Church and civil authorities did understand thatpeople in almost constant danger of sudden, violent death needed moreof a distraction than books or cards or dances could provide. Not evensex always helped--but most of the time it could take your mind off thedanger enough to relax for a few minutes, or an hour, or if theCompassionate Mother was kind, an entire night. Joanie wouldn't havethat escape any more, which was grossly unfair.
Still, there was a purpose behind everything God did, Odeon remindedhimself, whether a human could perceive it or not. He couldn't imaginewhat purpose would condemn Joanie to constant pain, as well as all ofan Enforcement officer's normal st
resses, with no chance of relief--buthe believed there was one, and if he were allowed to, he'd help herachieve it.
After several minutes, Cortin pulled back, still dry-eyed. "If that'sthe way it is, I guess I'll have to learn to live with it. Thanks forgiving it to me straight, Mike--you were right, I'd rather know thetruth than get my hopes up and then have them dashed."
"I'm glad. I thought you'd feel that way--but I was praying I wouldn'tjust make things worse for you." He squeezed her hands, debatingwhether or not he should kiss her, then decided against it until later.If he was any judge, she was in no mood for affection at the moment,especially the fraternal kind that would emphasize it was the only kindshe'd get from now on. "I have the books," he said, instead."Dalmaine's Practical Interrogation Techniques, Gray's Anatomy, andWu's An Inquisitor's Manual of Pharmacology. Major Illyanov sends hisregards, and asked me to tell you that his evenings are free if youthink some tutoring would help."
"I'll take him up on that, gladly." Anything to help keep her mind offher pain and loss . . . "Though I'm surprised to find him so willingto help."
"I think he's pleased that you're interested in his specialty," Odeonsaid. There were no prohibitions against a woman becoming anInquisitor, any more than there were against them entering whateverother field they chose--but the fact remained that very few women choseEnforcement, and to the best of his knowledge there had never been afemale Inquisitor. "Want me to ask him to come over tonight?"
"Yes, please."
* * * * *
Cortin had started reading as soon as Mike left, not long after lunch,and halfway through the first chapter of Dalmaine's book, she wastotally absorbed. He gave a brief overview of the basic first-stagetechniques taught at the Academy, then continued with the psychology ofwilling witnesses and how to help them remember pertinent facts.Cortin recognized several of the so-called lieutenant's techniques,nodding as increasing knowledge let her appreciate his skill morefully. The next chapter started to deal with reluctant cases, andwithin ten pages Cortin had the other two books open and was referringback and forth. Supper came; she ate it mechanically, with no ideawhen she was finished of what she'd eaten, as she kept studying.
She jumped when a hand covered her page. "What--!"
"I apologize for interrupting such intense study, Captain Cortin, but Ihave been trying to attract your attention for several minutes." Thetall, attractive man in Enforcement gray, with St. Dmitri collarinsignia and major's leaf, bowed. "Major Ivan Petrovich Illyanov.Your instructor--and delighted to have such an attentive student. Howfar have you gotten?"
When Cortin told him, he smiled. "Excellent progress. Now we see howwell you have absorbed what you have read." He began questioningher--without any of the memory-enhancing techniques, Cortinnoted--nodding or frowning occasionally at her responses. He made herwork, and she did so enthusiastically, disappointed when he finallycalled a halt.
"You cannot learn a year's course material in one night," he saiddrily. "Though at this rate you may well do so in a month. Theclassroom material, at any rate." He touched a bandaged hand. "May Isee?"
"Of course. Uh . . ."
"'Uh' what?" Illyanov asked, gently unwrapping the bandage.
"Mike--Captain Odeon--told you why I want to learn this?"
"He did indeed." Illyanov paused, smiled at her. "I doubt there is anofficer in any Enforcement service on this world of ours, perhapsanywhere in the entire Systems, who does not know of Captain JoanCortin and her ordeal. It should please you to learn thatanti-Brotherhood operations are currently overwhelmed with volunteerssworn to avenge you. Although that has driven the Brotherhood toground, so I fear I must tell you we are having no more real successthan before."
"I am pleased--and flattered," Cortin said. "It never occurred to methat there'd be that much of a reaction."
"But you are also pleased there will be some left to hunt when yourecover." Illyanov finished undoing the bandage, nodded approvingly atthe burn. "A good move, keeping these. You did it on instinct?"
"Yes. They're obscene, disgusting--a worse violation than the rape, byfar--but it didn't seem right getting rid of them. Though I probablywill, eventually."
"You will not show them at all times, then?"
"No--I plan to wear gloves except when I'm on a hunt."
"Remove them also during an interrogation, I would suggest." Illyanovsmiled, replacing the bandage. "You have not yet reached that point inyour studies, so you cannot be expected to know the psychologicalimpact, but such touches can appreciably increase your odds of success.Terror is often more persuasive than pain."
"I will, then. Thank you." But she'd still use the pain . . .
"The pleasure is mine." He stood, bowed again. "Until tomorrow, then?"
To see more of Shannon: 2a. Musing
