The Alembic Plot Part 16

Cortin returned the grin. "I shouldn't be greedy, and I do have something else to look forward to from him; you go ahead."

"Thanks." Bain glanced at her, then obviously decided not to go on.

Cortin hid a sigh. Having civilians apprehensive about her was one thing, but her men should feel free to ask or tell her anything.

"What's the problem, Dave?"

"It's not exactly a problem, ma'am . . . uh, Joan."

"What, then?"

Bain looked uncomfortable. "Uh . . . you're the first lady trooper I've been around, and . . ."

"Oh." Yes, that explained his hesitation. "I've been the only woman on a team most of my career. I'm neither a virgin nor a prude, though I sometimes find it useful to pretend the latter around civilians. So spill it."

Bain grinned in relief. "Right, Joan. Okay, then--Mike says that before the Brothers messed you up, you enjoyed using our dispensation whenever the opportunity offered. Nothing fancy, but not skimping anyone, either."

"True," Cortin said, smiling. "I'm a firm believer in the basics, and G.o.d was generous enough to let me enjoy them in abundance. If He's merciful enough to let this work out, I'll do it again."

"Just let us know what you want, and how much; we'll do our best to oblige." Bain grinned again. "Always a good idea to keep the CO happy, you know."

Cortin couldn't help laughing, in spite of the pain. She knew that a commanding officer taking part in a team's s.e.xual activity tended to have an extreme effect, one way or the other; it could tear the team apart, or it could weld it into near-unity. From watching hers work together, she was certain it would react positively, so she said, "And from my experience with other teams, I doubt you'll find at least that aspect overly disagreeable."

"Or at all difficult," Bain agreed. "I'm looking forward to it, in fact." He gestured in a way that told her he was still unsure. "I've been with a lot of civ women, paid or curious about an Inquisitor, but they didn't--oh, h.e.l.l!"

"You're not the first one to tell me that," Cortin said drily. "I was lucky, always had enough willing troopers around I never had to go to a civ man--but I always got more out of Special Ops men. The emotional feel was better, even when physical things were the same."

"You do understand, then." Bain's look was full of relief and something else she couldn't quite identify.

"Yes--and if this works, I want all of you to feel free to come to me.

Other duties permitting, I'll be more than happy to help keep up morale." She grinned. "Rank doth have its responsibilities, a few of them pleasant; a CO is expected to be available for counseling whenever it's needed."

Bain chuckled. "'Counseling'--I like that. You may have the best-counseled team in the entire Service, here shortly."

"Most counseled, anyway," Cortin said. "And while you're here, I've been meaning to ask--if you don't mind talking about it, I'd like to hear how you ended up in the Strike Force. Records are all very well, but there's no feel to them."

"I'd rather not," Bain said slowly. "Fair's fair, though; Mike told us all about how you got into this." He paused, clearly trying to organize what he wanted to say.

Cortin had suspected Mike might have given them the details of her background, probably because he'd thought it would somehow help her.

He'd be right, too, if it helped her get insight into her people. She waited for Bain to speak.

"I come from a big family," he said at last. "Four sisters and a baby brother, with me the only sterile in the bunch. I enlisted in Enforcement, beccame a demolitions expert, got a recommendation to the Academy and graduated about the middle of my cla.s.s, put in for SO and got it, made First about three years later. By that time, my baby brother was in the Service too, a top-notch medic." He paused, and Cortin saw tears in his eyes. "We weren't stationed together, but we were close enough we got to see each other regularly. He loved his work, would go out of his way to help anyone who needed it, wouldn't hurt a fly--wouldn't carry a gun, even on a remote patrol. He had a great family, wife and two kids with a third on the way, he and Betty both hoping for eight or ten . . . He couldn't understand why I wanted to be an Inquisitor, even though he knew someone had to do it--h.e.l.l, he couldn't understand why I went into demolition!--but I was his big brother, so if I wanted it, he wanted it for me."

Bain paused. "I'm rambling--sorry. Anyway, about a week after I got my Warrant, my team got called out to help search for survivors of a terrorist ambush on a patrol. I heard the patrol that got hit was from Lancaster, but I didn't get scared until I heard the Team-Leader's name. It was Jeffrey's team . . . and on the ride out I heard other searchers had found seven bodies from the ten-man team. The medic wasn't one of them, and that scared me worse. Jeffy didn't have what it takes to escape an ambush, and you know what's likely to happen to an Enforcement trooper captured by terrorists."

"Nothing good," Cortin agreed.

"We were the first combat team to get to the ambush site, so after a quick briefing, the on-scene commander sent us after the ambush party--fifteen of them, his Tracker said. With that few, our Team-Leader decided we didn't need any backup, so we got on their trail. When we caught up a few hours later, they'd made camp and were working on Jeffy. I couldn't see them yet, but I knew his voice well enough to recognize it, even screaming and with the overtones algetin adds."

Cortin nodded. Screams, to a civilian and even to most Enforcement personnel, didn't tell much except that the screamer was feeling intense pleasure or pain. An Inquisitor learned not only to tell which, but also several other things; she wasn't at all surprised that Bain had been able to tell his brother had been dosed with the pain-enhancer.

"We took out the sentries, which eliminated five of the terrorists and gave us the advantage of numbers as well as skill, then we moved in on the camp." Bain paused. "Have you ever been in on a ma.s.s interrogation?"

"No, but I know the theory; pick the least likely to be useful and make a dramatic example of him, to save time with the rest."

"That's what they were doing with Jeffy. All three of our people were hanging spreadeagle, but Jeffy was the one their version of an Inquisitor was working on." Bain's voice caught, and it was a moment before he could continue. "I'd . . . rather not go into the details; just call it a standard demonstration. The plaguer was in the middle of gutting him when we attacked. I knee-shot him, then went to Jeffy."

He stared at his saddle horn. "He . . . didn't recognize me at first, and . . . when he did, he begged for help." Bain looked at his commanding officer, his expression haunted. "Joan, he couldn't have lived if there'd been a hospital trauma center five feet away, and he knew it. I couldn't refuse him, make him live in that kind of agony until shock and blood loss killed him in spite of the drugs. So I gave him Last Rites--then I killed him, as quickly and painlessly as I could." He looked down again. "Dammit, I became an Inquisitor to help find the Kingdoms' enemies, not to kill people I love!"

"I understand." His Warrant made his action blameless under both civil and Church law, but that wouldn't have helped his feelings any. "It was the only help you could give, and both of us know it can be welcome. At worst, he's in Purgatory; I'll include him in my Ma.s.s intentions from now on."

"Thanks--I've been doing it since I was ordained, of course, but extra Ma.s.ses never hurt, and it'll make his family feel better."

"How did they take it?"

"Betty understood; the kids are too young to know anything except that Daddy's gone and won't be back. She gets a pension, of course, and I'm 'acting Daddy' for the kids when I'm around. You'll have to come out for a visit sometime, since we're stationed in the area--I'm sure they'd love to meet you."

"I'll do that." She ought to find out if she could still relate to normal civilians, she supposed; except for visiting the Harrisons, she'd been in a strictly-military environment since the attack. And not even a normal military environment, between the hospital, her Inquisitor's training, and starting a Strike Force team. She knew she'd changed, for what would generally be considered the worse; what she didn't know was how much.

"Great! If you don't mind, I'll drop back now and pa.s.s your invitation along."

"Fine."

She rode alone the rest of the morning, glad when they got into the forest and out of the rapidly-warming sun. She was pleased to find she could still appreciate the sounds and smells of the forest, the squirrels and birds, the green-tinged light. Lunch was good, though she was restricted to broth and more grateful for the brief relief from jarring pain than for the unsatisfying pre-surgery meal.

8. Ambush

Back on the road, about an hour later, Cortin spotted a rider coming in their direction. He was apparently daydreaming, because it was a few seconds before he saw the group--and when he did, he reined around and galloped back the way he'd come.

Cortin stopped, frowning, and motioned Odeon to join her. Most people didn't like getting too close to prisoner escorts, no, but leaving at a gallop was a rather extreme reaction. Not necessarily a guilty reaction, and not one she would normally be justified in having him pursued or shot for . . . but it bothered her. When Odeon reined in beside her, she said, "I don't like the looks of that. It could mean nothing, but it could also mean trouble. Patrol formation, I think, with you at point; as Tracker, you've got the best chance of spotting trouble before it spots you."

"Right. And I'd recommend Tony as rear guard; he's the closest we have to a second Tracker."

"Agreed." As he rode ahead, Cortin dropped back to the main group, briefed them, and sent Degas to the rear. This wasn't good ambush country--the woods were open, with the road avoiding rough terrain wherever possible--and they'd be in secure territory when they got within an hour's ride of the retreat; even when the Royal Family was elsewhere, there were security and housekeeping staffs in residence.

When they moved out again, she stayed with the group, all of them alert for unusual movements or sounds. Cortin found herself half-hoping for action, though she also wanted to make it through without having any of her people hurt or killed.

Odeon moved forward cautiously. He agreed with Joanie: even though someone fleeing a prisoner escort didn't necessarily mean trouble, it was a good idea to take a few simple precautions. He studied the other's tracks when he got to them, but they told him nothing he didn't already know. The man had been riding at a walk, and had suddenly turned, galloping away. If it was because of normal apprehension, fine, and no real problem even if he was a wanted criminal; he'd cause them no trouble, and he'd be caught eventually if he kept reacting that way. The problem would arise if he were point man for a group of Brothers or other terrorists--not likely this close to a royal residence, but certainly a possibility.

He wasn't kept in suspense long; within five minutes, he heard a group of riders ahead. They were making no effort to be silent, which didn't prove anything one way or the other; either they were innocent, or they were pretending to be innocent to get close to the Enforcement group.

The woods were open enough there was no point in leaving the road to try to eavesdrop on them; if he were close enough to understand words, he'd be close enough to see. So, keeping his hand close to his pistol, he rode forward.

His appearance clearly startled them, enough to get an honest reaction; half of the fifteen or so went for their weapons. He drew and fired at the same time he was turning his horse and urging it to a gallop.

Leaning low over the horse's withers, he continued to fire, and was both surprised and gratified to hear a cry of pain mixed with the return fire; it was d.a.m.n near impossible to hit anything from the back of a running horse even if you tried to aim.

Cortin heard the shots, then rapidly-approaching hoofbeats. So did the rest, and there was no need to give orders; all had been in similar situations often enough to know precisely what to do. By the time Odeon came in sight, Chang and the prisoner were far enough off to the side to be out of the firefight, and the rest were behind good-sized trees. This wasn't exactly what Cortin had had in mind, wanting action--it was more like the kneeling-behind-a-barrier segment of a firing range exercise--but it would do.