The Alembic Plot Part 47

"In that case, he's in your custody; secure him in Suite Bravo when you're finished, and inform me. Lieutenant Pritchett, please provide any a.s.sistance Captain Odeon requires."

"With pleasure, Excellency." Pritchett reached out a big hand and pulled the Brother toward him, grinning widely. "Come with me, little man. We've got some real interesting plans for you." He turned to Cortin. "We'll turn him over to guards for the trip to the Lodge, Your Excellency, then be right back."

"Very good, Lieutenant." When they left, Cortin continued the separation, but her primary concern remained her former tormentor and what he'd said about the Brothers soon having real Inquisitors of their own. They'd always had amateur Inquisitors, of course, and occasionally--temporarily--a real one who'd gone rogue. That was something else she'd definitely have to question him about, but just the information she had so far was enough to disturb her deeply. Civil Inquisitors were necessary to investigate, and in many capital cases punish, crime. That was difficult enough, sometimes, even though crime for the most part was objective, not dependent on intent. Sin, on the other hand, was dependent on intent, and the ancient Terran Holy Inquisition had proven that religious Inquisitors were more likely to drive people away from G.o.d than bring them to Him.

Which, she thought grimly, would serve Shayan's ends perfectly. She couldn't be certain why he wanted souls, but the fact that he did was beyond question. Any people his Church Inquisitors drove away from G.o.d would end up as his subjects in h.e.l.l--and if they were effective enough at that, there could be an Infernal population explosion.

Population explosion. Cortin frowned at that thought. If they were accepted, Families could, and hopefully would, provide that sort of increase in the Systems. Which would give Shayan a chance at the larger number, which would explain why there'd been nothing from the Vatican objecting to that part of what she was trying to do. Her theory might be wrong, she acknowledged, but it felt right, and she knew nothing that would contradict it. At least it was some sort of explanation, better that the total lack she'd had before.

Cortin joined her team for the return to Harmony Lodge, riding in a command van for what felt like the first time in years. It took longer than the Fleet helicopter would have, but by the time they got home, she'd been fully briefed on the action, and her opinion of Blackfeather had gone up several notches.

As they entered the outskirts of New Denver, she turned her attention to the reporter. "The convent raid ends the cover on the Strike Force, Sara. Their Majesties agree that news should be broken by a Sealed representative; as the only Sealed member of the press, and the only reporter who was there, you're the logical one to do so. At my request, you'll also be allowed to do the first stories about the existence of Family Cortin and the new Archduchy; no other reporters will be officially briefed until tomorrow morning. That should give you adequate time, I think."

"More than adequate," Blackfeather said. "Since I knew I'd be able to publish soon, those two stories are already written--but I hadn't expected that much of a lead. Thanks!"

"You've earned it. And thank you for saving Chuck's life."

Blackfeather shrugged. "I've changed my opinion of Enforcement, Colonel. Before Mike did what he did for me, I'd probably have enjoyed watching a trooper die, though I can't be sure since it never came up.

I'm glad to find out that now I'm not like that." She shook her head, her expression rueful. "It seems my att.i.tude's become exactly the opposite of what it was, in fact. I used to defend the Brothers, you know."

Cortin nodded. "I know, and say the troopers who were hurt or killed fighting them deserved what they got. The only thing I could find in your favor then was that you believed what you were saying."

"I couldn't do that now," Blackfeather said. "It's not just seeing Brothers and troopers in action for the first time, though that did help crystallize my new feelings. Mostly it's seeing the Family being a family, seeing the Special Ops troopers I thought were the worst playing with kids and kittens, and . . . well, the part I'm not going to be able to write about because no one who hasn't at least been around it could possibly believe it. But being troopers--especially an Inquisitor--gives you a whole new kind of understanding."

"You liked being part of Dave, in particular?"

"Oddly enough, yes." Blackfeather hesitated. "They're all good men, but there's something special about Dave . . . something I have a hard time describing, even if I am a reporter. A special kind of idealism, maybe . . . tougher, not that any of them are soft . . ."

"I know what you mean," Cortin said, glancing around at the rest of the team and getting nods. Unity during s.e.x was most intense between man and woman, but it was there between any Sealed; they'd all felt what Blackfeather was talking about, with her, Bain, or both.

"He reminds me of Larry, in a way," Blackfeather went on, surprising them. "So do you. Because in his own way, he's an idealist too--even though I'm not sure he knows that, or would believe it. An idealist who's turned cynical, soured against just about everything--but I believe there's still a tiny bit of him that wants the same things we do."

Chang gave the reporter an appraising look, then turned to Cortin. "I believe we may have a truly virtuous person among us, Joan. Not merely sinless, but virtuous--willing to believe the best of people, which I find surprising for a reporter."

"I doubt I'll be a reporter much longer," Blackfeather said. "What Sis calls a virtue isn't, in my particular field; once I've filed these three stories, backing Enforcement, the Families, and Colonel Cortin, I fully expect to be fired. So would any of you happen to know of any job openings for an ex-reporter?"

"How about historian?" Odeon asked. "We need one, with a reporter's training, while it's still early enough to get an accurate account of what's happening. The First and Second Testaments were written by groups, edited by others, and translated by still others; after that many opportunities for intentional or accidental change, we might not know what the originals really said." He made a wry face. "Yes, I believe everyone involved was inspired. As investigators, though, we all know humans are fallible--with or without inspiration. But they didn't have modern publis.h.i.+ng; given a press run of ten or fifteen thousand, by one writer and in the original language, there'll always be a totally genuine version somewhere."

To Odeon's surprise, Blackfeather snickered. "You've got your historian, Mike--but if you believe a press run as low as ten or fifteen thousand, it's sure clear you're no publisher! On this particular subject, especially with Colonel Cortin involved, go up a couple of orders of magnitude. A million or million and a half copies wouldn't be an unreasonable estimate of sales, even at a price double or triple that of a standard book. A copy she autographed would be worth . . . well, even my imagination isn't quite that wild!"

"Even better," Odeon said.

"You do know, though, that it'll mean interviews to get everything you remember that has anything to do with Joan--and that the result won't leave you much, if any, privacy. You don't get a major social revolution by hiding the sort of personal behavior you're trying to encourage--even though other people may choose to do so."

"Sis and I figured as much," Odeon said. "We talked it over, between us and with the rest of the team, and it's necessary. There's going to be a lot written about what we're doing, one way or the other, and we're agreed one of them has to be accurate. So you'll get full cooperation."

"Including an Inquisitor's help," Bain said. "Colonel Bradford's the best you'll find at the memory-enhancing techniques we use with cooperative subjects, but I'm no slouch; you may get more information than you can use."

"More than I can include, maybe," Blackfeather said, "but not more than I can use, if only as background." She turned to Cortin. "What about you, Colonel?"

Cortin grimaced and looked pleadingly at Odeon. "Do I have to, Mike?"

"You're my Family head, Archd.u.c.h.ess, and Commanding Officer, not to mention the Protector's Herald; I can't say you have to. But I'd recommend it pretty strongly."

Cortin sighed. "Mike, for someone who claims to be a subordinate, you give the most convincing orders . . . all right, all right, I'll cooperate." She turned to Blackfeather. "I will, too. But I don't promise to like it--and you probably won't like what you hear if you think you need to go into what I do in my interrogations."

"I'd rather not, but I probably will." Blackfeather made a face.

"Being both Larry's mistress and several Enforcement officers has given me a new perspective on that, too. Especially, as I may have mentioned before, being Dave."

Several of the team chuckled. "You did," Bain said, "and it was flattering--but if you want to be two of the best in the business, ask Brad and Ivan. I'm good, or I wouldn't be on Team Azrael; those two are second only to Joan."

"I'll have to ask, then, next time I see them," Blackfeather said.

"That should be tonight," Odeon said. "I invited Brad, and he said he'd pa.s.s it on to Ivan; if they possibly can, they'll both be at our home Communion service."

Blackfeather smiled. "Good!" Then she sobered, turning back to Cortin. "I don't like to mention this, Colonel, and I'll like getting involved with it even less, but the history should definitely include your work, too."

Cortin was silent. Blackfeather was right, inarguably so; the Protector whose Herald she was embodied Justice as well as Love, and Justice wasn't always pleasant. It could be, of course, when rewarding virtue, but punishment was usually pleasant only to the punished's victims or their survivors--never to the punished, seldom to observers, and only through G.o.d's Mercy was it satisfying to the punishers.

"Very well," she said at last. "You may have access to the films of my interrogations, and observe any you think necessary from now on. But I have to warn you, you won't find any of it enjoyable."

"I don't expect to," Blackfeather said. "My job's gotten me into unpleasant situations before, though, and I can cope. I think I should start with the one you and Mike have personal reasons to work on."

"You know our reasons?"

"I'm sure of yours--it was in the news enough--and I can guess at Mike's, yes."

"As you wish, then," Cortin said. "It's too late to get started tonight, though, and Brad and Ivan should be here any minute. Why not get your stories filed, then we'll take the rest of the night off?"

Their guests arrived while Blackfeather was still working. The Family adults greeted them warmly, but waited for more till Blackfeather was finished and had rejoined them in the common-room. When she had, Cortin pointed to the new insignia on both men's collars. "Ivan, I know I told you to design a territorial emblem--but isn't that a bit presumptuous? And Brad, how come you're wearing it?"

Illyanov smiled. "It is not presumptuous at all, beloved, nor is it really territorial. I could think of nothing, so I prayed, and that night dreamed of this. We are the Protector's, after all; what more natural than that we should wear the sword and rose you and Michael chose for our first altar?"

"And as he said," Bradford continued, "it isn't really territorial. It didn't make much sense to us to have Sealed troopers limited to one jurisdiction, and Their Highnesses agreed. So did His Majesty when they approached him, and the other Sovereigns when King Mark approached them--because we were informed shortly after my return to the Palace that we are now extraterritorial. Not just Strike Force, but all Sealed troopers--so all of you need new insigne, which we've brought."

He smiled, handing them out. "Ivan had several hundred made, for when the Protector manifests, but these are all we need for now. I sent some to Tony and Chuck, too, so they'll be in correct uniform when Mother Gabriel releases them."

"That was thoughtful of you--thanks." Cortin smiled, then glared at both of them. "One of you could have called me with a little advance warning, I should think! Isn't it bad enough that His Majesty keeps pulling this sort of surprise on me?"

"It is fun to surprise you when we have the chance," Illyanov said.

"Would you deny us a bit of harmless entertainment?"

Cortin chuckled ruefully. "Put that way, of course not--how could I?

But someday I may be able to pull the same thing on you, be warned!"