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Cortin nodded; they'd had no choice, and Ivan had been polite enough not to tell her he'd modified her intentions. "It looks like the conditioning was complete, all right--but how permanent?"
"Till he dies, Ivan says, or till he's put through the same type of conditioning again, which Ivan doesn't think is possible anywhere outside a Detention Center. So if you take him on, it'll be for good."
"I don't see that you left me any choice," Cortin said with resigned amus.e.m.e.nt. "Kicking him out with conditioning like that would be like . . . kicking a puppy, I suppose. Though I have no idea what I'll be able to do with him!" She paused, frowning. Joining the Brotherhood of Freedom, or any other terrorist group, meant automatic excommunication, and she didn't care to make her people a.s.sociate with an excommunicate.
"I don't suppose you also saw to his spiritual welfare, by any chance?"
"Of course we did, and not by chance," Odeon said. "Better than that, though we blocked the memory in case you turned him down. Uh--"
"Don't tell me," Cortin said, half-grinning. "You enlisted him and put him on the team."
"Close," Odeon said. "Commissioned him, since you wanted all officers.
He doesn't meet the normal Strike Force criteria, but Colonel Bradford waivered them in his case. He's a good rider and a d.a.m.n good marksman, but otherwise his main qualification is absolute dedication to his Team-Leader. I wouldn't call him a puppy, young as he is; I'd call him a guard dog. The cue to make him 'remember' he's been an agent of yours is you welcoming him to Team Azrael."
"I'll do that next time I see him." Cortin sighed. "Pritchett saying last night that he's in love with me, Powell conditioned into devotion--what next? No, don't answer that; I don't think I want to know." She paused, then changed the subject. "So Ivan's experiment was successful--but how useful will it be?"
"Practically, very little or none. It worked, yes, but the drug's expensive and scarce, and the procedures take too many people too long, to be worth using in normal circ.u.mstances. It may be done again, but it'll have to be a pretty special case."
"Too bad; I can see where it could've been useful." Cortin dismissed the subject with that, hesitated, then picked up the red phone that almost had to link her interrogation suite directly with the Palace.
According to Brady, His Majesty wanted any significant results she got, as soon as she got them. The phone rang once, then a half-familiar voice said, "Yes, Colonel?"
It was a direct link, then. "His Majesty wanted immediate reports,"
Cortin said. "Are you authorized to take them?"
"Anyone who answers this phone is so authorized, Colonel. Go ahead; your report is being recorded."
"Good." Cortin gave a concise but complete report of what she'd gotten from Powell, pleased at the quick response. Too bad not everything in the Kingdom went this smoothly!
"Excellent," the voice said when she was done. "I had, of course, hoped for quick and substantial results from you, but this exceeds my expectations. Good work, Colonel."
Cortin swallowed hard, finally placing the half-familiar voice. Of course he was authorized to answer his own phone! "Th . . . thank you, Your Majesty. This was an easy one."
"Easy or not, it was effective. Keep up the good work, Colonel; we have to crush these terrorists, especially the Brothers of Freedom."
"Of course, Your Majesty--I'll do my best."
"I would expect no less, Colonel." The line went dead.
Cortin stared at the handpiece for several seconds before replacing it carefully in the cradle. It was hard to believe she'd just spoken to High King Mark--but she knew his voice, she had to believe. "I'll get you more, Sire," she said unneccessarily, then she stood. "Okay, Mike--I suppose we ought to get supper, then I'm going to start another subject." She grinned. "I really shouldn't say this, but even though he gave me some good information, Charles wasn't much fun, and I promised myself some entertainment tonight. If you and one of the others will help me set the next one up, I'll play with him awhile, then if he's being stubborn, we'll get serious in the morning."
14. Bradford
Cortin climbed the stairs to the second floor, Bain following her, satisfied with the results of her evening's work. Her fear that Sis'
work would leave her vulnerable to s.e.xual stimulus from anyone, including a Brother of Freedom, had proven unfounded; even when she'd used eroticine to force an erection on the prisoner she'd chosen for her evening's work, her only response had been antic.i.p.ation of a challenge, no arousal at all. She could relax, then, concentrate on doing her new job to the best of her ability. And she'd found Dave next door; when he'd settled his prisoner for the night, she'd been eager to share her discovery with him.
When she entered the common-room, she had to hold back a gasp of astonishment. She'd expected a certain amount of showiness on the public floor, and it was in the Kingdoms' interest to have the interrogation areas as well-equipped as possible--but she hadn't expected to find much more than average living conditions, comfortable and with the promised privacy. This was luxury, the kind she hadn't believed real even in stories about royalty. Carpets so thick she seemed to be wading in them, rather than walking on them--it felt almost criminal wearing boots on them--paintings even she could see must be worth at least a small fortune, couches and chairs she wasn't sure she'd dare to sit in, some covered in fur . . . Then her admiration was interrupted; Illyanov embraced her, kissing her thoroughly.
"I know you sent a message about no visitors," he murmured, "but after last night, I thought you might wish the opportunity. If not, there is no harm done."
"True, and you're right," Cortin replied with equal quietness. "The prisoner didn't affect me, but Dave sure did." She raised her voice to a normal level. "Want to introduce the colleagues I haven't met yet?"
"My pleasure, Excellency." As he was doing so, Illyanov saw Odeon gesturing him to where her team had gathered. When he joined them, Odeon said, "You've been in on this as much as any of us, Ivan; Dave's got some information that may put a different light on Joanie's s.e.xuality. Go ahead, Dave."
Bain did so, telling them about Cortin's lack of reaction to her prisoner. "It seems odd," he finished, "that she wouldn't react, especially with him dripping on eroticine, if it's as involuntary as she--and we--thought."
"That agrees with what happened this morning," Illyanov said. "We slept linked last night, and were still so when I woke." He smiled.
"You are all aware of her new ability to intensify climax?" When they nodded, also smiling, he went on. "That ability can also be most stimulating if you happen to be within her and relaxed. My point, however, is that she did not let it continue; she removed herself before either of us became too aroused. I agree with David: she has some control, though it may not always be conscious control."
Odeon traded glances with Chang. That sounded as reasonable as the truth about Cortin, and considerably more believable; they'd go along.
"Then maybe it wasn't a fluke, or fear, when she came down after the first time," he said. "What about it, Sis?"
"Unconscious control?" Chang said thoughtfully. "I should like to believe so, and from what you all say, it does sound reasonable. As a hypothesis, then: she indulges herself based on--if you will excuse the term--available, acceptable resources and time. I should like more evidence to either confirm or refute that, however; I have obviously been wrong on that subject before."
Odeon grinned at her. That was a more reasonable hypothesis for the others--and for Joanie herself, until it was time for her to go public--than he could've come up with. "We'll get it for you, though I don't know if we'll be able to tonight." He waved at the group around Cortin; they had her almost undressed, with her full cooperation, and were getting out of their own uniforms as all of them moved toward her bedroom. "But if one of us can arrange to be her last for the night, he can do what Ivan did last night. If he's the only one with her, and doesn't let her move away, the results should be conclusive."
"A good indication, at least," Chang agreed. "And I will put a sedative doser in the bedside table in the event the conclusion is not what we currently believe."
Cortin didn't have time to wonder why none of her team were in the group surrounding her; Illyanov's embrace and kiss had been quite enough to start the ache in her belly, and the Inquisitors' caresses had turned it into a burning need--one they seemed to sense and perhaps share, because almost as soon as they got her to the huge bed, one of them was sliding into her, his urgent thrustings sending her into a spiral of sheer pleasure.
When she fell asleep, it was with Pritchett holding her, relaxed inside her, murmuring that Ivan had said she liked sleeping that way. And he was still there when she woke, a comfortable strong presence in spite of the fact, since the two of them were alone, that she must have overslept. He was smiling at her, and when she started to pull herself reluctantly away, he held her gently but firmly where she was. She started to object--her body was already reacting to him--but he silenced her with a kiss. "It's okay, little fox," he said affectionately. "Just relax, trust me. You'll be fine."
"But--"
"Just relax, I said." Pritchett kissed her again, rolling so she was beneath him as she preferred. "Sis says your drive may very well be self-regulating, and I'm the lucky one who gets to find out with you.
If not, she left a sedative." He paused, smiling. "It is something you--and we--need to know." He began moving gently.
He was right, Cortin thought. They should all know her reactions--and he felt far too good, growing and stiffening inside her, for her to want him to leave. "Mmm," she agreed, yielding. Last night had been a feast, she'd loved it and intended to repeat it whenever she had the time and interested partners--but it would be nice if she could snack, too, not have to gorge all the time.
"That's my little fox," Pritchett said indulgently. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine." He was at his full size now, solid and delightful, his gentle movements arousing her more slowly than she'd have believed possible after her recent experiences. "And you feel so good . . ."
"Slow and easy this time, hmm? I think so, too." Pritchett smiled, kissing her, caressing her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. His little fox--their Joanie--was something special, all right. Even if other women had shared her new endowments, he didn't know of any who'd have been either willing or able to delight a group of men the way she had two nights running. It was too bad she didn't love her Enforcement partners the way they did her--she must think they came to her only for the s.e.x, which was laughable. That you could get anywhere, with the right money. But she was still willing--h.e.l.l, eager!--to have them.
Their lovemaking was unhurried and thorough, different from any she'd had since her surgery, but Cortin enjoyed it just as much. When they were done, they bathed and dressed--to Cortin's amus.e.m.e.nt, Pritchett had a complete set of clothing in her room; she'd have to make sure the rest did, too--then they went to the common-room with Pritchett happily carrying the still-full sedative injector.
The only one there was Powell, who smiled when he saw the injector.
"It went all right, then--great! The rest of us have all been to Ma.s.s and had breakfast, and they're getting settled in. What do you want me to do?"
Cortin didn't know enough about his conditioning to give a good answer, so she said, "You tell me. You need debriefed by an expert, of course, but since you joined us have you had any gear issued, or been paid, or taken care of personal matters?" She saw a puzzled expression, remembered, and added, "Oh, by the way--welcome to Team Azrael."
He looked dazed for a moment, then his expression cleared. "I was working for you the whole time, then--thank you! About the other, though--no, none of it."
"Um." She thought for a moment, then went to a phone and dialed Bradford's number.