The Alembic Plot: A Terran Empire novel

by Ann Wilson

  3. Center

  Late July 2571

  As Cortin recovered and the pain in her body eased to what Egan assuredher was the best she could expect without further surgery, the burns onher hands took top priority, as she'd expected, on her list of personalgrievances against the Brothers. Any trooper they--or most terroristgroups, for that matter--captured, was certain to be brutally beaten,and usually raped. Coming out alive was the best one could hope for,and she'd managed that. The experience would leave psychological aswell as physical scars, she was certain, but like all officers and anyenlisted personnel who wanted it, she'd gone through extensive trainingand conditioning of both types in case she were subjected to terroristcaptivity and mistreatment, and she was confident the experiencewouldn't have any lasting effect on her. Except, probably, the desirefor revenge; that, she had no doubt, would last until she'd personallydone justice on her attackers. Especially Brother Lawrence Shannon.

  She knew, from helping other victims, that rape normally demolished awoman's desire for sex, sometimes permanently. In her case it hadn't;she wanted Mike as much as ever, and would have been glad to enjoyMajor Illyanov, given the chance. It was a bitter irony that hertraining had left her with the desire, while the attack had robbed herof all capability. And it still seemed so pointless, when they'd beenin the process of killing her!

  Still, terrorists weren't known for reasonable behavior, or theywouldn't be terrorists. She'd simply have to live with the fact, shetold herself grimly, of having the desire and not being able to doanything about it.

  Bad as that was, though, it wasn't the worst. Nothing had prepared herfor the Brothers burning their Hell-marks into her flesh; that was atotally unexpected violation! She wasn't being reasonable in keepingthem, and she knew it; the reasonable thing would have been--was!--tohave them covered with grafts. Much as they revolted her, though, theidea of having them removed still felt wrong. And Major Illyanov didthink they'd be useful--so she'd settle for gloves.

  As soon as she was free of the medical plumbing, she startedexercising. The first day, she confined herself to her room, when noone else was there, to spare herself the embarrassment of being seenunfit in public--but the room was too small for decent exercise, andshe was in a hurry to get back to duty and the practical side of hertraining.

  The next morning, too impatient to wait for visiting hours and Mike'shelp, she found a hospital robe in the closet. It was too big, but itdidn't drag the ground and sleeves could be rolled up, so she put iton. That gave her her first honest laugh since the attack when shelooked at herself in the mirror, but the robe did cover the hospitalgown's open back, so she felt decently enough dressed to go out intothe corridor.

  When she opened the door, she was astonished to find a pair oftroopers, obviously on guard. One of them, a sergeant she rememberedmeeting briefly several years ago, looked startled to see her."Captain Cortin! Is anything wrong, ma'am?"

  "Nothing but a strong desire to recover enough to get out of here," shesaid, smiling at his grimace of agreement. "A mere captain doesn'trate an honor guard, and I haven't done anything to be arrested for, sohow come you two're standing post?"

  The sergeant--his name was Kennard, she remembered--chuckled."Scuttlebutt says you're still on the Brothers' wipe list. ColonelNguyen has people like Corporal Redden here assigned officially, andsome of us figure they could use a little unofficial help."

  "Um." Cortin gestured acquiescence, bemused. "I don't really think Ineed protection, but I have to admit it's reassuring having you around.Is there anything in your orders that says I can't go for a walk in thecorridor?"

  "Not a thing, ma'am," Redden replied immediately. "The detail I'm onis just to stay with you and keep you safe. Though Dr. Egan seems tothink you'll be safe enough since it'll be a week or so before you'reup to anything even a little strenuous--like going for a walk."

  "Dr. Egan's a civilian," Cortin said, appreciating the men'ssympathetic expressions. "You may have to catch me if I overdo,though."

  "No problem," Kennard said.

  "Good. Shall we go, then?"

  * * * * *

  The day Cortin could get to the far end of the hospital building andback without having to stop for rest, she got Mike to have herdischarged--over Egan's protests--and help her move into the VOQ.

  That evening after supper, Odeon went to her room. He'd beenincreasingly worried about her lack of apparent emotion; he'd seenothers like that go into an abrupt withdrawal and become extremelydepressed, sometimes even suicidal. Her interest in interrogation anddesire for revenge would both help, but he was determined to give her abetter reason to live.

  When they were both settled comfortably with cups of her favorite herbtea, he grinned at her. "I meant to mention this earlier--you look alot better in uniform than you did in a hospital gown!"

  "I feel a lot better, too. Hospitals are all right, I suppose, but I'ma lot more comfortable in quarters. Not to mention wearing a gun."

  "Of course you are," Odeon said, chuckling. In hospital was the onlytime an Enforcement trooper, officer or enlisted, was completelyunarmed; even in bed, they always had a weapon within easy reach."Going to Mass tomorrow?"

  "Why, is it Sunday?"

  "No." Odeon chuckled again; it was easy to lose track of time in ahospital! "That was yesterday; I just thought you might want to joinme. I talked to the Academy chaplain, and he's going to offer aspecial Mass of Thanksgiving for your recovery."

  Cortin stared at her tea, turning the cup in her gloved hands. "That'sa little premature," she said at last. "And I'm not at all sure it'ssomething I'm thankful for. It might've been better if you'd been justa few minutes later."

  She meant it--and that was exactly what he'd been afraid of. "Youshouldn't feel that way, Joanie. God had a reason for keeping youalive; you've got to believe that."

  "Why?" Cortin asked tiredly. She'd spent quite a few hours thinkingabout that, when she should've been sleeping but the pain wouldn't letsleep come and nothing seemed to matter except an end to her torment."I'm no saint, but I've never done anything really terrible, either.Certainly nothing bad enough to deserve this living Hell."

  That was true, Odeon thought. Still--"We can't hope to understand Hisreasons for what He does," he said. "We can only accept. Offer thepain to Him, Joanie. Come to Mass with me tomorrow, dedicate yourselfto Him, and ask Him what He wants of your life."

  He looked so hopeful she couldn't refuse him. "All right, Mike. I'llgo with you, and I'll try to do what you say. Just don't expect toomuch."

  "I'll settle for anything that'll help you." Odeon smiled at her,raising his cup. "To your recovery."

  "Thanks--are you going out tonight?"

  He'd been planning on it, but he quickly changed his plans. "No, why?"

  "I'd like some company, then, if you don't mind." She grimaced."Though if you'd prefer a woman who can do something for you instead ofa counterfeit, I'd certainly understand."

  "Even disabled, you're more of a real woman than any I've paid to bewith," Odeon said. "I've always enjoyed your company, even when one ofus was too tired or too hurt for fun and games--you know that."

  "I know--I felt the same way." Cortin managed a smile. "But I willmiss the fun and games, and you'll have to be careful about waking upshooting because you hear something out of place--I haven't learned tostay in the right position while I'm sleeping yet, so it's at night myback acts up worst, and I have a bad tendency to scream when it does."

  At least her sense of humor hadn't completely deserted her, even thoughthe humor now was on the dark side. "I'll be careful," he promised."I certainly wouldn't want to shoot my favorite recruit."

  * * * * *

  She found it comforting to lie beside Mike, even though part of heralso found it a near-painful reminder of what they'd shared earlier.She lay awake for awhile listening to his quiet breathing before itlulled her into a doze, then into
deeper sleep and dreams of a bettertime. It was her Graduation Day; the Duke of Columbia had almostfinished pinning on her classmates' gold Second Lieutenants' bars. Herown, the silver of a First Lieutenant since she was first in her class,already gleamed on her immaculate gray uniform. She was impatient forthe ceremony to end. She'd seen her recruiter in the crowd, and shewanted to carry out the plans she'd made for him, plans that bore noresemblance to the sometimes-sadistic ones her classmates claimed tohave for their recruiters. She'd discovered the surprisinglypleasurable reality of the Enforcement Service's sexual freedom notlong after her arrival at the Academy, quickly losing her inhibitions.Being the only woman in the class, she had enjoyed her instructors'attentions--but the corollary was far less enjoyable. In prewar days,being a teacher's favorite had supposedly meant having an easier timethan other students; at the Royal Academy, it meant additional work,more intensive instruction, and more severe testing. The harder theywere on her, she was repeatedly told, the better her odds of survivalwould be when she got out in the field--and she had thrived on theincreased challenge, as she'd proven by graduating at the top of herclass. But much as she had enjoyed her instructors'--and a few of herclassmates'--beds and bodies, it hadn't taken her long to realize thatMike Odeon was the one she wanted most, and she was determined to takefull advantage of this chance at him.

  The ceremony ended at last; she accepted congratulations--and her firstsalute, from Lieutenant Odeon. She returned it with the properdignity, then launched herself at him for a completely undignified, andequally thorough, kiss. He cooperated after a second's startlement,then grinned down at her. "That isn't the kind of attack I carried outon my recruiter!"

  "Oh, that's just the first sortie," Cortin assured him, pleased to findthat although he was sterile, he certainly wasn't impotent, as quite afew sterile men were; she'd felt that quite clearly during the kiss.

  "I think I'm going to like this attack," he said, still grinning.

  "I hope so." She tightened her arms around him. "You're staying atthe VOQ?"

  "Uh-huh." Odeon raised an eyebrow. "You're thinking of a tacticalstrike?"

  "Not exactly--more like a siege, if you don't mind my using yourtoothbrush in the morning. I couldn't think of a reasonable excuse tobring my kit to Graduation in case you did show up."

  "My toothbrush is yours," Odeon said with a chuckle. "It sounds likeyou're anxious to get this siege started."

  "I've been taught that unnecessary delay is bad strategy," Cortin said."Shall we go, Lieutenant, or should I begin my siege here?"

  "We go, Lieutenant," Odeon said, and they did.

  When they got to his room, they didn't hurry, but they didn't wastetime, either; once their uniforms were hung in the closet, Joan's siegebegan in earnest, and with her target's full cooperation. Lying besidehim, kissing him, caressing his body with the battle scars fewEnforcement and no SO men escaped, feeling his answering caresses onher still-smooth skin, was even better than she'd dreamed.

  Exploration grew into passion, caresses becoming more direct andintimate, yet there was still no hurry. Cortin savored the touch ofhis hand skillfully stroking her, the silk-over-steel delight of him asready for her as she was for him. It was she who moved first, eager totake him in, and she gasped with pleasure as they joined and beganmoving in the eternal rhythm.

  Then pain stabbed through her, bringing her awake with a choked sob.As it slowly subsided, she became aware of arms around her, a voice inher ear, and she tried to tear herself away.

  Odeon wouldn't let her. "It's me, Joanie, Mike--not some Brother.You're safe. You know I won't hurt you--and I'll do my best not to letanyone else hurt you, either. Relax, try to go back to sleep. Wantyour gun?"

  "I've got it under my pillow." Cortin managed a half-smile. "Thesovereign remedy for boogey-men, my father used to say. A 10-mm Rugerwith every fifth round a tracer load."

  "Smart man, your father," Odeon said. "Not much human-size a 10-mmload won't stop, and tracers'll discourage the rest. Think you cansleep now?"

  "Yes, I think so." Cortin sighed, relaxing slowly. "Thanks, Mike.For being here, and for . . . you know. Make sure I wake up in timefor Mass, will you?"

  "No problem," Odeon said. "Sleep in peace, Joanie."

  * * * * *

  Tuesday, 23 July 2571

  The Mass had more of an effect on Cortin than she had expected itto--more than it ever had, even when she was in a mood for religion.For some reason it seemed more meaningful, more immediate, than it hadbefore. Maybe it was the pain that made her empathize with thetortured image on the cross, maybe it was something else, she didn'tknow. All she was sure of was that for the first time, it felt likethe "collective sacrifice" it was supposed to be, and when she wentforward for Communion reciting the "Domine, non sum dignus," she foundherself hoping the Host would actually heal the hurt in her soul.

  It didn't, but when she returned to her pew she did feel lessdespondent, and when the service was over, she found to her surprisethat she intended to return the next morning. As they walked to theOfficers' Club for breakfast, she turned to Odeon with an unforcedsmile. "Thanks for getting me there, Mike. Mind if I go with youagain tomorrow?"

  "Be glad to have you. It helped, then?"

  "Yes. I don't know how, but it did."

  "Good!" Odeon grinned down at her. "I thought it had, from yourexpression. Just remember, He doesn't allow any of us to be triedbeyond our endurance--even though He may come right to the brink of it."

  "I will." She started to ask him a question, but they were almost atthe Club; she waited until they had gotten their food and started toeat, then she said, "You told me once you wanted to become a priest.Why didn't you?"

  "Because my primary calling was to law enforcement instead." Heshrugged. There were priests in Enforcement, true--even a fewbishops--but not in the operational sections, which was where hiscalling lay. "I've never understood why the two couldn't still becombined--the prewars sometimes had fighting priests and bishops--butsince I had to make the choice, I decided I'd rather be a good lawofficer than a mediocre priest."

  Cortin nodded. "That makes sense, though I'd bet a month's pay you'dbe an outstanding priest, not a mediocre one. As well as a great lawofficer--have you ever thought of applying for an exception?"

  "Quite a few times," Odeon admitted. "I think the reason I never didwas that I was afraid I'd get my hopes up, then be turned down."

  "I can understand that," Cortin said, remembering. "I think youshould, though. Maybe if you point out that Enforcement troops,especially Special Ops, go places regular priests don't get to inyears, it would help. His Holiness does seem to be willing to acceptthat sort of innovation."

  "Maybe I should, at that," Odeon agreed. There were always articles inthe various parish papers bemoaning the lack of vocations, especiallyto serve remote areas . . . "In fact, maybe I should ask for a generalexception. I'm not the only one who'd like to do something morepositive than just administer Last Rites."

  "It's worth a try," Cortin said. She speared a piece of ham-and-cheeseomelet, ate it, then said, "I can understand how you feel. It maysound odd for an Enforcement officer, but I'd love holding a baby forbaptism--they're fun to cuddle."

  "Cuddle a baby?" a voice said from behind her. "I hope that does notmean you want to discontinue your training; I should deeply regret theloss of such a promising student."

  "Not at all, Major!" Cortin turned, gesturing to another chair attheir table. "You must've missed some of the conversation. Would youcare to join us?"

  "With pleasure," Illyanov said, putting his tray down and seatinghimself. "I am personally glad to hear you intend to continue; ittakes no more than fertility to bear children, and anyone with moderateinterest can become a fairly competent Inquisitor--but it takes bothtalent and motivation to do truly well in our field." He smiled ather. "Which I am convinced you will. It is good to see you out of thehospital."

&n
bsp; "It's good to be out!" Cortin said emphatically. "I'm stilltechnically in hospital status, and Doctor Egan has made it clear she'dput me back in bed if I do anything too strenuous--but it's great beingout of there and back in uniform!"

  "I am fully familiar with the feeling," Illyanov agreed. "There arefew things worse than enforced idleness, especially in suchsurroundings." He raised a hand, smiling at her. "Not that I callyour studying idleness, not at all--I am, in fact, impressed by yourindustry--but from your Academy and other records, I am sure you areimpatient to begin practical application of your theoretical work."

  "I certainly am." She wasn't all that eager to practice the first twostages, though, especially in the beginning when they were on Academycadets, with the additional purpose of training them to resistinterrogation. Her interest was in third-stage, with Brothers ofFreedom as her subjects--but she supposed it was all necessary, toachieve her real end. "How soon can we start?"

  "Such eagerness!" Illyanov laughed. "Nor are you the only one; I havebeen relieved of my classes and given orders to expedite your training,once you were out of the hospital. We are, if you choose, toconcentrate on Stage Three--and the one who gave me those orders saidit was highly likely you would so choose."

  "He was right." Cortin thought back to the debriefing and thatmysterious Lieutenant, certain he was somehow involved--but that theclassified assignment probably was too, so it would be wiser not to askabout either his identity or his involvement. She'd thank him for itlater, if she could do so without breaking security. For now, shesmiled at Illyanov. "So, when do we start?"

  "I do love an enthusiastic student . . . shortly after we finish here,if you are that impatient. Any Brothers of Freedom captured in thisarea--except, for now, those probably having critical or time-sensitiveinformation--will either be sent here or held where they were captureduntil you decide whether to question them yourself or turn them over toanother Inquisitor." He gave her a raised-eyebrow smile. "I confess tobeing astonished at that, Captain. I have heard of prisoners beingreserved for a particularly skilled Inquisitor, yes, but never for astudent. Even one as promising as yourself."

  Odeon whistled. "Neither have I, and I'd thought I'd heard just abouteverything." He'd known for a long time that Joan Cortin was somethingspecial, but Illyanov was right--this was unprecedented. "Joanie, anyideas?"

  "Not exactly, though I can't help connecting this with the Inquisitoron the team that debriefed me. I'm positive he's more than a simpleLieutenant, and--" she chuckled ruefully, "from what I've learnedsince, I'm sure he picked up more from me than I told him verbally. Orwanted to tell him, for that matter."

  "And what did this more-than-Lieutenant look like?" Illyanov asked,suddenly attentive.

  "A bit over 180 centis, slender build, medium-brown hair recedingslightly above the temples, green eyes, classical features that lookedlike he laughs a lot--" She broke off, seeing recognition in theothers' faces. "You've both met him, then."

  They nodded. "The . . . officer I spoke to at Personnel," Odeon said.

  "Colonel David Bradford," Illyanov said with a slow smile, "of HisMajesty's Own. Yes, that explains many of the rumors currentlycirculating."

  After a few moments, Odeon asked, "Are you going to share thatexplanation?"

  "Indeed, but not here. Captain Cortin and I must go to the DetentionCenter so she may choose her first subject. I will share my deductionon the way, if you care to join us."

  "Try to keep me away!"

  * * * * *

  As soon as they were on the way to Detention, Cortin turned to herinstructor. "All right--now why would someone like Colonel Bradford betaking such an interest in me?"

  "Bear in mind that this is speculation based on rumor," Illyanovcautioned. "However, I have considerable experience putting togethersmall pieces of information to form an accurate whole; I am confidentof my evaluations."

  "They've got to be better than the nothing I have now," Cortin said."Go on, please."

  "Very well. This first item I rate as virtual certainty." He paused."The Monarchs' Council in New Rome this past December did remarkablylittle of significance, to outward seeming. Not true?"

  "Very true," Cortin said. "I'd expected a lot more, after the Kunmingraid."

  "Most people did--and from observations I have made since, theexpectations were accurate; the reality has simply not been revealedyet. I am convinced that Their Majesties, either at His Holiness'urging or with his full consent, are in the process of forming aninter-System--or perhaps all-System, the effect is thesame--anti-Brotherhood elite."

  "It's about time!" Odeon exclaimed.

  "I agree. Especially since it appears the members of that force willbe people who have little reason to be overly fond of the Brotherhood.All but one of the people I believe to be selectees or potentialselectees are Special Operations personnel, and all have suffered somepersonal harm from the Brothers." He glanced at Joan, smiling. "Fromhis interest in you, Captain, I think it highly likely that you are notin full uniform. You certainly have most of the other qualifications Ihave deduced: a personal grievance that would motivate you to acceptextremely hazardous anti-Brotherhood missions, a clean service record,excellent to outstanding combat skills, regular attendance at churchwhen possible--all except a specialty, which you are getting now. Iwould say that as soon as you receive your Warrant, you will beapproached about joining that unit."

  "It fits," Odeon said softly. "So well that's got to be it. But whydid you say it might be at His Holiness' urging?"

  "You do not remember the Kunming raid Captain Cortin referred to?"

  "When it happened," Odeon said drily, "I was snowbound in the NorthwestTerritory, alone in a shelter halfway between Holy Cross and LaredoJunction. By the time I got out almost a month later, there wasn'tmuch talk about it any longer--I don't remember hearing any details."

  "It was quite similar to the raid in which Captain Cortin was attacked.The church was full of schoolchildren and their teachers; there were nosurvivors."

  Odeon crossed himself, feeling sick. Schoolchildren in church, staffand patients in a convalescent hospital-- "What next?"

  "Only the Brothers know," Illyanov said grimly. "But I would beextremely surprised if they plan to attack anyone who can defendthemselves. Nor do they seem amenable to persuasion, which leaves noalternative: they must be eliminated."

  "Now that I could enjoy," Cortin said consideringly. "I could enjoy ita lot."

  "I am sure you will have the opportunity," Illyanov said. "PerhapsCaptain Odeon will as well, if he is a specialist and has adequatepersonal grievance."

  "I do. I'm a specialist, yes, a Tracker. The grievance I'd rather nottalk about, except to say it gives me a good reason to go afterBrothers. Any idea when this group will go public? Because I plan toapply for it as soon as I can."

  Illyanov shrugged. It wasn't hard for an experienced Inquisitor toread Odeon's expression, and from that deduce his grievance; thequestion was whether Colonel Bradford would consider it sufficient."The timing I can only guess at, Captain. I have heard no rumors onthat subject."

  "Living in the capital, though, you'd have a feel for it; what's yourbest guess?"

  "Until recently, I would have said the next time the Brothers made aparticularly abhorrent raid, but that would have been the hospital one.I still believe it will be tied to such a raid, though it now appearsthere is at least one additional criterion. The most likely is thatthe unit does not yet have sufficient personnel, but it could be anynumber of other possibilites; I simply do not know."

  Odeon nodded. "Makes sense--but that could be months, at their currentrate. If I see him before that, I'll try to apply then."

  "There is one other item of interest," Illyanov said as they drove intothe Detention Center compound and toward the gray, windowless mainbuilding. "That is that many of the new unit's members supposedlyeither have been or will be given full Holy Orders. I find thispla
usible, since such a force will of necessity spend much time inremote areas where priests are extremely rare." He paused, then saidthoughtfully, "I think that a wise decision, if only for reasons ofmorale. A civilian priest would find it difficult if not impossible tosurvive under such conditions, yet people in mortal danger should notbe deprived of the sacraments for prolonged periods; I know that I, forone, would not care to be placed in such a situation."

  "Neither would I," Cortin said, then she turned to smile at Odeon. "Itlooks like you won't have to apply for a special exemption after all,Mike--just get into this new unit, and let them know you're interestedin the priesthood."

  "I plan to do exactly that," Odeon said. "In fact, unless you need meto help in the interrogation, I don't think I'll wait until I happeninto him; I'll see if I can get hold of the good Colonel and put my bidin. Initiative never hurts, and he can't very well say much if I tellhim I'm applying based on extrapolations from rumor."

  Cortin glanced at Illyanov, who shook his head. "No, it doesn't looklike we'll need you. Go for it, Mike--and put in my application whileyou're at it; I don't want to take any chances on getting overlooked.I should have enough practical experience to qualify as a specialist bythe time the group is activated, especially if the Brothers maintain aseveral-month interval between horror raids."

  "I'll do that." Odeon turned to Illyanov. "Is there a phone in thereI could use for an hour or so?"

  "Yes, in the Inquisitors' lounge. I will have you admitted there as myguest."

  "Thanks."

  When they got inside the building, Illyanov showed Odeon the lounge andintroduced him to the three Inquisitors it held, then he and Cortinwent to the Records Section. The clerk there was a young private, wholooked to Cortin as though he might possibly be a full week out of bootcamp; he was certainly still new enough to the job that he showedapprehension at the sight of an Inquisitor's badge. "Yes, Major?" heasked.

  "I wish to see the records of all prisoners being held for third-stageinterrogation."

  "I'm sorry, sir," the young private said, obviously nervous. "As ofthe first of the week, all those not currently undergoing questioningare being saved for Inquisitor-Captain Cortin's evaluation."

  Inquisitor-Captain, Illyanov noted, not Inquisitor-Trainee. Yes,things were being accelerated for her, indeed. But if Colonel Bradfordthought it best that she be treated as fully qualified by DetentionCenter staffs, there had to be a reason; he would go along. "CaptainCortin and I are currently acting as partners," he said. "However, youmust keep your records in order, must you not?" He turned to Cortin."If you would identify yourself for this young man, Captain, we canproceed."

  "Of course, Major." Cortin dug out her ID, the first time she'd usedit since before going into the convalescent hospital, and had to hideher surprise as she showed it to the clerk. Besides the standardEnforcement Service card, the little folder held an Inquisitor's badge!Keeping her voice level, she said, "Now, may we see those records?"

  "Yes, Captain--it'll only take me a moment." While he went to thefiles for them, Cortin gave Illyanov a curious look, got only a slightshrug in return, and took a closer look at her ID. It was the oneshe'd had since making captain, yes--there was where the pen hadspluttered while she was signing it--but it had been altered. Veryskillfully altered, by someone who knew precisely what he was doing,and according to it, Illyanov was right; she wasn't in full uniform.Or . . . was she? Surely she would have noticed an SO patch on hersleeve! She snuck a quick glance, and was relieved to see nothingthere. At least it didn't look like she was going either blind orinsane!

  "Here you are, Captain," the clerk said, handing her a small stack offolders. "If you want to go through them here, you can use that deskby the west door."

  "Thank you." Cortin took them, going to the desk and seating herself,then opening the first one--but her mind was on the additions to herID. She took out the folder again, staring at the badge and theSpecial Operations stamp. "What's going on?" she asked Illyanov in alow voice. "Why do I get a badge while I'm still in training, and whysneak it all in on me like this?"

  Illyanov thought for several moments, frowning. At last, keeping hisvoice as low as hers had been, he said, "Unless you wish to attributeit to Colonel Bradford's well-known and decidely peculiar sense ofhumor, which I consider likely, I do not know. The speed can perhapsbe explained if he has information not generally available about anupcoming raid, though I would have expected that as your instructor Iwould have been informed when you were granted a Warrant--out ofcourtesy, if nothing else--but I can think of no logical reason for himnot to inform you."

  "Neither can I, so I guess you're right about it being his sense ofhumor." Cortin put the ID away and began studying the prisonerrecords. They seemed to be arranged in reverse order of capture, whichmade sense; the ones deemed to have critical information had alreadybeen removed, so the ones on top would be the ones who had been herelongest, already softened up by the first stages of interrogation.

  When she opened the last folder, she bit back a curse, then, atIllyanov's startled glance, said, "I think I just found out why thebadge." She turned the folder so he could read it easily. The subjectwas a deserter, who had compounded his crime by joining theBrotherhood, but was so new to it that he was believed to have nosignificant information. "Bradford's making sure I don't do what thisplaguer did. I told you he was reading more than I wanted to tellhim--he had to know I'd never join the Brotherhood, but he also had toknow I'd go after them, either legally or as a rogue. And that I'dmuch rather do it legally."

  Illyanov nodded. "I read the same things, of course. I did not,however, realize that his desire to keep you in Enforcement was greatenough he would have all practical training waived--even for one whohad made perfect scores in all the theoretical material."

  "You didn't tell me that!"

  "I did not wish to make you over-confident. That, however, is nolonger a consideration; if you are to function independently, withlittle or no notice and limited practical experience, you should be ascertain as possible of your ability to do so." He smiled. "As I didtell you, you were most promising. Motivation and hard work have letyou live up to that promise so far; I see no reason to doubt that youwill continue to do so. But now, Inquisitor-Captain Cortin, you havean interrogation to conduct." He gestured at the folders. "Logic willtell you to choose one who has been through preliminary questioning,and your emotions will tell you to choose the rogue-turned-Brother.However, you have been an Enforcement officer long enough to havelearned to trust certain feelings; do any of them indicate which ofthese will give you the most useful information?"

  Cortin moved her hands across the folders as if she could get herinformation that way, wishing she really could. She had learned totrust her hunches--they had kept her alive more than once--but she wasless certain of them in these circumstances. Finally, she picked twoshe thought ought to have more information than their recordssuggested: a thief suspected of exercising his skills for theBrotherhood and, though she admitted to herself it might be as muchbecause of his betrayal of the Service as for any information, therogue trooper. The thief had been through the preliminary stages; therogue hadn't, formally, but the Special Ops men who had captured himhad--justifiably, she thought--taken out some of their anger on him, sohe'd been through a crude form of second stage as well.

  "These two, I think," she said, handing Illyanov the folders. "Thethief first; procedures on the renegade weren't exactly by the book, soI'd like to have a little experience before I start on him."

  Illyanov nodded, gathering up the remaining folders. Cortin followedhim back to the counter, glad that since he was the ranking officer,he'd be the one to give the orders; she didn't yet know what orders togive!

  "Yes, sir?" the clerk asked.

  "Have prisoner 829-A taken to Interrogation Suite Delta's third-stageroom. Standard restraints, no special requirements."

  "Yes, sir." The clerk relayed Illyanov's orders t
hrough an intercom,got an acknowledgement. "He will be waiting when you get there, sir.Ma'am."

  "Thank you. Shall we go, Captain?"

  On the way to the interrogation suite, Cortin removed her gloves andtucked them in the back of her belt, then rubbed the scars on the backsof her hands. In a few minutes she'd start getting the firstinstallment of her revenge for those, and the other hurts they stoodfor--and it felt good. Illyanov read her gestures and smiled. Mosttrainees were nervous about their first practical work, especiallytheir first third-stage work. It was understandable enough--he couldremember his own apprehension--but it was those who went into it withanticipation, as Cortin was doing, who generally became the outstandingpractitioners, those whose very names could be enough to persuadecriminals to avoid their attentions by a full confession. It was ashame that if his speculations were accurate, she would be in the fieldmuch of the time, where she was likely to be killed, rather than at aDetention Center where she would be safe and her skills could be put totheir best use. However, he chided himself, it would be better havingher working within the law, anywhere, than it would be to have heroutside it, not only useless but being hunted!

  When they got to the suite and exchanged tunics for the coveralls thatwould protect their undershirts and trousers, Illyanov gave her a finalcaution. "Do not let your enthusiasm make you careless, Captain. Evena field interrogation requires both caution and precision."

  "I'll be careful," Cortin assured him. "You've told me often enoughthat the line between persuasive pain and unconsciousness is a veryfine one, and I don't intend to let him cross it."

  "Very good." Illyanov smiled at her. "I will intervene only if youask, or if you appear about to do something unfortunate. Shall we go?"