It was still a couple of hours before dark when they got to the retreat's main guard post. Cortin was surprised when a lieutenant emerged to check their identification and authorization, until he told her that Crown Prince Edward and Princess Ursula were in residence, and went on, "Colonel Bradford and Inquisitor-Major Illyanov are in Their Highness' party, and asked whoever met you to extend their regards.

They would like to see you when you get a chance; they're billeted in the Manor, but we were told you and your team need privacy, so you're a.s.signed a field-type shelter we use when there're too many security people here for normal quarters. I hope that'll be satisfactory."

"A shelter is fine, thanks," Cortin said. Better, in fact, than the Manor--for her, at least. Being loaned a corner of a royal retreat was an honor, but she was certain she'd be horribly uncomfortable in the actual presence of royalty. Seeing Illyanov and Bradford again would be nice, though--especially Ivan, and especially if the surgery worked, though she was reluctant to admit an Inquisitor had that kind of attraction for her. "I do need a couple of things, if they're possible?"

"My pleasure, Team-Leader. What can we do for you?"

"Take care of these spare horses, and see about picking up and identifying some bodies." Cortin gave him a brief explanation, and a description of the location.

"I know where you mean," the Lieutenant said. "I'll be happy to see to both. Is there anything else?"

"No, except where this shelter is." She paused, realizing she was forgetting something. "Lieutenant Bain plans to conduct an interrogation of our prisoner, probably within the next couple of days.

We certainly don't want to disturb Their Highnesses, though; is there someplace remote we can use?"

"The shelter is about a kilometer from the Manor, Captain; standard procedures will be fine." The Lieutenant turned back to the guardhouse and called inside; seconds later, a sergeant emerged. "Sergeant Halvorsen will guide you, then take the spare horses to the main stable. If you don't mind him using one of them?"

"Of course not. Glad to meet you, Sergeant."

"My pleasure, ma'am." Halvorsen saluted; when she returned it, he mounted one of the spare horses and led them another half-dozen kilometers, past immaculate lawns and formal gardens, to a shelter that looked odd because it was covered in multi-colored climbing roses.

"Here you are, Captain," he said with a smile. "Enjoy your stay."

"Thank you, Sergeant." Cortin dismounted as he left, leading her horse into the shelter's stable. She needed help unsaddling--her back wouldn't let her do it by herself any longer--but once that was done, she was able to care for and feed Rainbow alone. She wouldn't mind having the gelding as a permanent mount as long as she was stationed at Middletown; he did have a smooth gait, even though she couldn't appreciate it properly any longer, and he was beautifully responsive to reins, knees, or voice. Once the Strike Force was activated, maybe she would lay claim to him.

When they got into the shelter proper, Degas began fixing supper.

That, like clean-up, was normally done by turns, but he'd volunteered for the job--he claimed in self-defense--any time they were in the field. No one argued, after Pritchett had challenged him to show why; he could do wonders with shelter rations, and was the only human Cortin knew who could actually make trail rations into something you didn't mind eating.

A knock on the door brought them all alert, though none were antic.i.p.ating trouble here; as Cortin had half expected, what they got was company for supper, in the persons of Bradford and Illyanov. She was glad to see them, and even more pleased that they settled into the team's non-regulation informality as if it were a group of Inquisitors like the one at the Eagle's Nest.

She saw Bradford's look of pleased surprise at her men's gloves, and his slow smile of approval. "I see Team Azrael has decided on a trademark. Did you by any chance leave a glove with the remains of your attackers?"

Not at all surprised that they'd heard the story so quickly, Cortin nodded. "Yes--it seemed like a good idea. Shouldn't we have?"

"That's your option, as Team-Leader. Leaving a token that way will gain your team a reputation, which can be helpful at times--but it'll also make you targets. So I'm leaving the choice, as I said, to the Team-Leaders."

"We'll talk about it, then," Cortin said, a bit disturbed. "Personal notoriety for Inquisitor Azrael will be useful--but I've discovered I'm no longer one of the Brothers' targets, though Lieutenant Chang is at the top of their list. I will not turn the rest of my team into special targets without their consent."

Bradford looked incredulous. "You're not a target? I find that hard to believe."

"One of the Brother casualties lived long enough to talk." She explained, including Chang's conviction about Shannon's ident.i.ty--leaving out only Degas' youthful indiscretion--watching the Colonel's face.

After a brief silence, Bradford nodded. "I've heard similar opinions, though I'm not sure I believe them either. In that case, your team may choose."

"Anyone else with an Inquisitor's badge is automatically at the top of the Brothers' target list," Bain pointed out. "Me, I'll take any advantage I can get to balance that. Though if we keep on at this rate, we may all go broke buying gloves."

"Requisition them as team equipment," Bradford said. "Team Flame has already put one in for candles."

"I like the idea," Odeon said thoughtfully. "Anyone on a Strike Team, not just the Inquisitors, is going to be a prime target as soon as we go public. So I agree with Dave--we might as well take the advantages with the dangers."

"I didn't join Special Ops or the Strike Force for safety and security," Degas agreed. "I'm for it."

"Same here," "And I also," came simultaneously from Pritchett and Chang.

"I'd say that settles that," Cortin said, gratified. "Shall we eat, gentles?"

That suggestion got hearty approval, and the men served themselves while Cortin gave her mug of broth a disgruntled look.

"Looking forward to some solid food?" Bradford asked, grinning. "Oh, I've cleared Ivan for this experiment, since I could see how close you two got while he was training you."

"Um." Cortin looked from him to Illyanov, whose attempt at an innocent look might possibly have fooled a two-year-old, then back. So Ivan wanted in too, did he? Well, she certainly didn't have any objection!

"Yes, I am," she said. "Right now, I'm not sure whether I'm looking forward more to that, or to being able to have s.e.x again. I suppose I'll find out when I'm able to have both."

That got chuckles, and Chang smiled. "I will make sure you are nourished well enough that you can make your choice without concern for your strength."

Cortin bowed in her direction. "Thanks, Sis. That should make it fair enough . . . as long as I'm not asked to choose between a chocolate eclair and one of you ready for action. In that case, I'd probably try for both at once."

"No chocolate eclairs, then," Odeon said promptly. "The other I won't promise."

Cortin almost choked on her broth, but managed to bring herself under control. "I wouldn't put it past any of you gentlemen, and I can't think of anything nicer to wake up to--but any sedative strong enough to knock me out under algetin won't leave me able to do any of us much good for . . . how long, Sis? About a day?"

"Considerably less than that, I should say," Chang replied. "I will discontinue the algetin only when I am convinced you are completely healed, and the sedative I will use will fade into a natural sleep.

When you wake from that, you should be fully recovered and capable of any exertions you care to make."

"Better than I thought, then. When do you plan to operate?"

"Tomorrow morning," Bradford answered for the medic. "I've had what would be the armory in a real shelter set up for the operation. You should be on your feet again within a week."

9. Surgery

Shannon fumed in helpless anger. The first direct attack on Cortin's new team--one he admitted to himself shouldn't have been made, but that he'd found irresistible--had been a total disaster. The troopers had been outnumbered more than two to one, yet they had still routed his men, as far as he knew taking no casualties while claiming eight kills.

Worse, he'd had to let one of his own go before death. It was always unpleasant to lose someone useful, and when that one was sworn to him, it was humiliating as well.

Worse, though, was his near-certainty of why Cortin and her people would be taking another of his to a remote security area, when that one was a near-perfect medical match. Restoring Cortin's s.e.xual function, and the use she would make of it, would cause severe and possibly critical damage to the use he had been making--and intended to continue making, if she didn't reclaim it--of human s.e.xuality. Especially the new virus-enhanced version, which offered such delicious possibilities if properly redirected and emotionally loaded.

Was there anything he could do to prevent it? Degas, a former Brother--though unfortunately too young then to be properly sworn to him--was on Cortin's team. It was possible he could be blackmailed into cooperating . . . though that would mean using his power, since security at a Royal retreat was so tight. Cortin would have to be sedated for the surgery, maybe for part of her recovery time as well, and it should be safe enough to use them while she was drugged. If he only knew when she'd be under!

But without that knowledge, he decided regretfully, it would be wiser to refrain. The Adversary had pointed out that timing was crucial; he simply dared not take the risk of rousing Cortin's power too early.

Friday, 28 Feb 2572

Odeon was sitting beside the heavily sedated Cortin, stroking the hand without tubes, when Bradford entered the shelter. He started to rise, but settled back at Bradford's gesture. "Yes, Colonel?"

"Brad, please." Bradford looked at the woman for some time, then he turned his attention back to the scar-faced man who was her second in command. "You've known and loved her for years, Mike. So will you please tell me why in G.o.d's name the most talented Inquisitor I've ever seen won't take a nice, safe, productive a.s.signment at the New Denver Detention Center where the most difficult cases can be referred to her?"

"I thought you wanted her in the field!" Odeon exclaimed.