The Alembic Plot Part 45

23. Raid

Wednesday, 25 March 2572

The next morning, when Powell offered to help her into lightweight Enforcement body armor, Blackfeather accepted gladly. She'd found out the previous evening, at the same time she'd found out what the term 'unity' meant to those who were Sealed, that his Enforcement commission was another of the exceptions surrounding Cortin; he was barely seventeen, and his pose of being a veteran was exactly that, a pose.

But he was no rookie inside, and that unity had given her considerable respect for the Protector's youngest Sealed.

"How does that feel, Sara?" he asked when she was suited up. "I can adjust it some, if it doesn't fit quite right."

Blackfeather moved experimentally, then grinned at him. "It's fine, Chuck. Now what about Sis?"

"She doesn't need armor; she won't be going in until after the action's over. Mike doesn't want her going in at all, but she says if he can, so can she, and he couldn't argue that. At least she's promised this'll be the last time till after she has the baby."

"And the Colonel? Even if His Majesty has forbidden her, I'm surprised she'd stay out of her team's--and Family's--first official action."

"She doesn't have any choice," Powell said regretfully. "It's a legal order and her Enforcement oath is valid; disobeying would be a sin, and that's something none of the Sealed can do. If we had reason to believe any of the ones who tortured her would be among the attackers, she'd be free to go with us, but none of the information we have even hints at that. So she's stuck here."

"In her place, I'd hate that," Blackfeather said, feeling more sympathy for the Inquisitor than she'd have thought possible a few days ago.

"At least we can make sure we give her a complete report."

The only thing that helped Cortin's frustration at being kept out of the convent defense was saying Ma.s.s, and that only helped for the brief time it was going on. By the time it was over, though, she'd come to one conclusion: His Majesty had ordered her not to get into the action, but he hadn't said anything about not going to the Palace communications center to listen to the tactical radio!

But following the defense that way was less informative than she'd hoped. She wasn't familiar enough with the terrain to visualize the deployment, which made movement orders impossible to follow. About all she could be sure of was that the Royals were winning, even though they were taking heavier casualties than she liked or had expected. She couldn't help praying that none of her people were among the dead and wounded, though she felt a little uncomfortable asking for that sort of special consideration; if the casualties weren't from her team, they had others who'd care as strongly about them.

At last it sounded like the fighting must be about over; Bradford was ordering the prisoners taken to a holding area and calling in the medevac units. As further transmissions showed things were winding up, she decided she might as well go back to the Lodge and make one final check of her preparations before prisoners started arriving. She was thanking the communications techs for their courtesy when Bradford's voice again came from the radio. "Palace Com, this is Strike Leader.

Request Azrael be contacted and asked to join us at her earliest convenience."

"Azrael is on scene, Strike Leader," the tech said. "One moment, please."

Cortin took the microphone he offered. "Azrael here, Strike Leader.

What's the problem?"

"Prisoner evaluation. We have some here who present unexpected problems, and I would appreciate your expertise."

"Unexpected problems?" That didn't sound too likely, Cortin thought--Brad and Dave both had more specialty-time than she did, though she had to admit that her position had probably given her a wider variety of cases. Still, likely or not, she wasn't about to argue with anything that would get her out into the field, however briefly. "I'll be there as soon as I can find transportation. Azrael out."

To her surprise, fifteen minutes later she was airborne and well on her way to the convent. His Majesty had both ground and air transportation available at no notice, of course, and as one of the King's Own she was allowed to use elements of the Royal Fleet--but she hadn't expected to be able to use one of the alert craft!

The pilot circled the battlefield, more to avoid throwing dirt and rocks on the wounded than to let her observe--though it did that as well--following a ground controller's orders to land on the convent lawn near the temporary prisoner holding pen. Before, she'd always been in combat gear, exiting a helicopter; this was easier, in her service uniform, though she did have a little trouble holding onto the wide-brimmed hat. When she was clear and the copter had lifted off, moving back several hundred meters to wait for her, she took another look at the battlefield from this more familiar perspective. It was clearer to her this way, a bigger scene of carnage than she'd imagined it could be, and she found herself appalled at the unnecessary damage and loss of life. Compa.s.sionate Mother of G.o.d, what could the Brothers hope to gain from all this? At least the convent showed no major signs of damage, nothing worse than a few bullet pocks, and the Blue Sisters were working with Enforcement medics, as usual, to help the wounded.

She heard the rustle of heavy cloth behind her, and turned to see Bradford--who looked surprisingly comfortable, for a senior officer, in battle gear--and a nun she supposed to be Reverend Mother Superior Mary Gabriel. She returned Bradford's salute, bowed to the nun. "I hope none of the sisters were hurt."

"No, thank G.o.d," Bradford said. "We were able to warn them, then ambush the terrorists far enough away the Sisters were never in any real danger. Would Your Excellency care for a copy of my report?"

"Thank you, Colonel, but it won't be necessary; Team Azrael will brief me. I would appreciate it if you have time to visit Harmony Lodge this evening, though. Ah--were any of Team Azrael hurt?"

"Not seriously," Mother Gabriel said. "Lieutenant Degas was. .h.i.t in the side, Lieutenant Powell in the leg. They are in no danger, and are able to travel, but I think it would be best if Your Excellency permitted them to remain here for three or four days."

"Whatever you think best, Mother Superior. May I see them?"

"There would be no point, Excellency; they are still under anesthetic.

I will be glad to tell them you asked for them, however." She smiled, more warmly than Cortin had learned to expect from healer to Inquisitor. "I understand we have Your Excellency to thank for Enforcement's timely intervention and the welfare of our patients."

"And Lieutenant Powell," Cortin said. "He's the one who infiltrated the Brothers and came back with the original information that let me know what questions to ask."

Mother Gabriel frowned briefly at that reminder, then her expression smoothed. "It has become obvious Your Excellency does G.o.d's work with His full approval, whatever I may think personally of the means employed. We are grateful for your help, and we would appreciate your blessing."

That was a perfectly understandable att.i.tude from a healer, Cortin thought. Raising her hand, she drew the Triune's symbol in the air.

"May all three Aspects of G.o.d protect and guide you and the holy Sisters."

"And pray for the Protector's appearance," Odeon said, approaching.

"The prisoners are ready for you, Colonel."

"Thank you, Captain. If you'll excuse us, Mother Superior, I'd like Colonel Bradford to accompany us." When Mother Gabriel nodded, she and Bradford followed Odeon toward the holding pen. Her second-in-command had a b.l.o.o.d.y bandage around his left bicep, but it didn't seem to bother him, and Mother Gabriel hadn't mentioned it, so it was probably no more than a flesh wound--not worth worrying about, so she didn't comment on it. Instead, she asked, "How did Blackfeather react? Did she give you any trouble?"

"Not at all. In fact, if she hadn't called a warning, Chuck would be dead instead of wounded, and she's the one who gave him first aid."

"Oh? Quite a change from her former att.i.tude, isn't it?"

"Considerable," Odeon agreed. "Enough that I told her I'd ask if she could listen while you interviewed the prisoners. She won't interfere, I'm sure of it."

"In that case, all right." Cortin stopped while they were still out of earshot of the prisoners. "Ask her to join us, then go get Tiny; I think the two of you flanking me ought to provide a certain amount of incentive for the Brothers to answer my questions."

Odeon grinned. "Will do--I like that idea."

As he left, Cortin turned to Bradford. "Okay, Brad, what's this about unexpected problems? You and Dave should be able to handle anything that came up in the field as well as I could. Especially with your new truthsense."

"In that respect, yes," Bradford acknowledged. "But he and I think what we've found out is going to take your authority to deal with. I don't want to prejudice you, though, so I'll let you do your own questioning and deciding."

Cortin was both puzzled and intrigued by his statements. Something unusual was definitely going on here, and since she'd be finding out in a few minutes anyway, she decided not to push Bradford on that subject.

She didn't see Odeon on the way back yet, so she changed the subject.

"How was the inspection trip?"

"Better than we expected," Bradford said. "A lot of Archangel's public buildings survived better than we had any right to expect--not intact, but not needing major repairs, either--so there are facilities available with minimum expense for both Archducal Enforcement and Strike Force HQ. The Governor's Mansion should make you a decent Archducal Palace, and some of the hotels can be modified for Family living."

"What about the people? They must have gotten some idea of what's going to be happening."

"Just speculation, so far, but what I heard was pretty accurate--and popular. I'd say His Majesty knew what he was doing when he picked you a fief."

Cortin grinned. "From everything I've seen, His Majesty usually does.

I'm glad to hear it went so well--did Ivan come back with you?"

"Yes--and he's come up with a 'territorial' insignia I'd love to wear."

Cortin would have pursued that, but there was no time; Odeon was returning, with Blackfeather and Pritchett close behind him, and Bain was approaching from the holding pen. She moved forward, signalling Bain to stop. When the group had joined him, now within earshot of the prisoners, she asked, "Have you done any preliminaries, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, ma'am, but with some exceptions Colonel Bradford has probably told you about, nothing very productive. None of the hard-cores want to volunteer anything, and Mother Superior won't hear of an Inquisitor working on a wounded man under her care."