"He is," Medart said, then, "You felt my mind-touch? That's never happened before, unless I did it deliberately."

Odeon grimaced. "I had some . . . mental surgery . . . a few months ago. It left me able to release the compulsions Shannon could impose, and it gave me a strong sensitivity to mental contact. I can't do anything with or about the contact, unless it's with someone else he mind-touched, but I know when it happens."

Medart sensed the other's reluctance to pursue that subject, so he returned to practicalities. "Since you don't have fabricators, and what I'm wearing is all I've got till Keith gets back with my kit, is there any way I can get my clothes cleaned in the couple of hours I'll be napping?"

"Easily," Odeon said, clearly relieved. "We sometimes have unexpected overnight company, so the guest suites are equipped with robes, pajamas, and standard toiletries. If you'll change, the servants can have what you're wearing clean and back to you in about an hour."

"I'd appreciate that."

When Medart woke, his uniform was hanging up inside the bathroom door, his underwear was folded neatly on top of the clothes hamper, and his boots and other leather items had been polished. He showered and dressed, decided not to call DeLayne since he'd gotten the necessary information about Cortin's odd Talent from Odeon, and checked the time.

He'd slept longer than he expected; it was about 1730 Standard, about an hour later local time.

He left his suite, followed sounds of talk and laughter to the living room--and was pleasantly surprised to be greeted with a hug and enthusiastic kiss from the Inquisitor. He returned both with equal enthusiasm, got a similar greeting from Sis and a more restrained one from Betty--right, she wasn't a trooper, didn't share their dispensation, so more wouldn't be appropriate. Then Odeon approached, his expression inquiring.

Medart shook his head with a smile. "I'm flattered, Mike, and I don't want to offend you, but I'm afraid you aren't my type."

"Thanks, and none taken," Odeon said. "Too bad, though--does being around it bother you?"

"No, not at all--it just doesn't do anything for me, either."

Odeon chuckled. "It would if you'd had the plague and been out on remote patrol. There aren't many women in Enforcement, so all but a very few troopers go both ways, especially in the field."

"I can understand that," Medart said. "The ones I've seen, on a couple of worlds where s.e.x is considered an art form, didn't leave any doubt they were enjoying themselves, either."

"That's all very well," Cortin said, sounding plaintively amused, "but would you mind going into reminiscence and philosophy later? I, for one, am ready for supper and after-dinner relaxation."

Her semi-complaint drew chuckles and agreement; the Family and guest went to the dining room.

After breakfast the next morning, Cortin asked Medart to accompany her to her ground-floor office. When they were seated in the conversation area there, she said, "While you were napping yesterday, I called Colonel Bradford and asked him to go into the details of what you found out from Shelton. I'm the best in the Kingdoms at third-stage, but he's the best at first, especially the memory-enhancing techniques we use with cooperative witnesses. I'd like you to work with him this morning; you can join me this afternoon, if you want to observe an execution."

Medart grinned briefly, then nodded. It was almost half a century since he'd taken orders from anyone except the Sovereign--but he wasn't in the Empire now, he was Colonel Cortin's guest; he'd go along with her arrangements, as long as they didn't interfere with his duty. "As you say, Colonel."

Cortin returned the grin. "Pretty good, for someone Captain DeLayne told me gave orders rather than taking them."

"That depends on circ.u.mstances. One of my colleagues, not quite twenty years ago, took orders from a fourteen-year-old who'd rescued him from rebels--but if I may change the subject, did DeLayne and his people have any effect on your att.i.tude toward the Empire?"

Cortin sobered. "In that they were all proud to be citizens and part of your military, a little. They got along well with the troopers, and s.p.a.cer Third Cla.s.s Conley made a very favorable impression on my Family, so I can say your ordinary citizens would probably get along with ours. And Mike is convinced that joining the Empire would be good for us, after a transition period he does think would be difficult--he says that's the only thing I have any real reason to worry about. None of the Columbus' people were on a policy level, though."

"And I am. Yes." Medart was silent for a moment. "Our basic policy is pretty simple, really, though some of the corollaries can get complex. People everywhere in the Empire have the same basic wants and needs: a stable environment, a secure home, safety for their family.

Those can be achieved in any number of ways, and a way that's ideal for one person may be totally abhorrent to another. That's why we try to preserve cultural diversity, even at the cost of some order and efficiency, and whatever we may think of some aspects of a given culture. If it can provide most of its citizens with the opportunity for those basics, the Empire won't try to change it."

Cortin frowned. That matched what Mike had reported, and Medart believed it implicitly, but it was still hard for her to believe it could be true. She started to say as much and challenge him, but was stopped when Matthew knocked on the door and announced Colonel David Bradford.

Cortin made the introductions, then smiled. "You two don't need me, so if you'll excuse me, I have a multiple rapist-murderer I've been looking forward to."

Bradford chuckled. "I've heard about him--how long do you think he'll last?"

"I think I can stretch him a day and a half, maybe a little longer."

"Good. I may come down and observe for a bit, if this doesn't take too long."

"Fine. If not, I'll see you Sunday."

"I wouldn't miss it." As Cortin left, Bradford turned to Medart. "I understand you actually have Shelton's memories, in full detail?"

"Of that particular series of events, yes. Not of his entire life."

"That series is all we need." Bradford smiled, though Medart didn't think he meant it. "You should be as relaxed as possible for this interview; I'd suggest you lean back, or perhaps lie down on the couch."

"In a moment. How long will this take?"

"That depends on several factors, but probably not over two hours.

Why?"

"My new bodyguard team's due down sometime this morning, and I want to be there when they arrive." Medart touched his throat. "Empress Lindner, what's Lieutenant DarElwyn's departure time?" Subvocally he added, "Monitor till I tell you otherwise."

"Yes, Ranger," came the answer only he could hear. "He is preparing for launch now."

"Ask him to delay for two hours, please," Medart said aloud. "And make sure he's bringing a shelter for the team; they'd be pretty cramped in the facilities available here." He paused. "Oh, and program my chrono to display local time as the primary."

"Yes, sir. Is there anything else?"

"That's it; Medart out." Turning his attention back to the Inquisitor, Medart settled back in his chair. "All right, Colonel. I'm ready."

Bradford's questioning, Medart thought when it was over, was the most thorough and probing debrief he'd ever been through. It hadn't been pleasant reliving those memories of murder, family loss, torture and maiming--his, even though he hadn't been the one the originals happened to--and he was relieved when Bradford called a halt, saying he'd gotten all the useful information Medart had. His smile this time was more genuine. "You're a good subject, Ranger. You've given me all I need to have that judge arrested, as well as identify and arrest the rogue Inquisitor and the rest of those Brothers."

"If they haven't gone into hiding." Medart checked his chrono and rose. "My bodyguard team should be down in ten minutes or so, if you'd care to meet some non-humans."

Bradford hesitated, then nodded. "I don't really care to, but if Colonel Cortin's right, I'd better start getting used to them."

Medart smiled. "If you join the Empire, yes. I'd planned on giving you a bit more preparation, but Colonel Cortin suggested my bodyguard be the biggest people we have, and those are Traiti. The Empire includes standard humans, human variants like the Sandemans and the Narvonese Dragon-Kindred, and non-humans, like the Traiti and Irschchans. One of my fellow Rangers is Irschchan, and I wouldn't be at all surprised if she became Empress some day. Plus there are occasional genetically-engineered variants who're so far from the human norm they'd be cla.s.sified non-human if that weren't their root stock."

"I understand."

Medart was thinking hard as they went outside to wait. He would have liked to get a reaction uninfluenced by prior information to his bodyguards' appearance, but from Bradford's response to the mere mention of non-humans, that didn't seem like such a good idea. He'd warn the spectators, then, and see about having pictures circulated before he went out in public with them. Bradford was right: if there was a chance these people would join the Empire, they'd have to start getting used to their fellow citizens.

He'd barely finished a brief description of the Traiti when the sound of null-grav engines made him look up. It was the lander, making a fast but otherwise sedate approach. Medart hid a grin as spectators drew back, expecting a crash. Sandeman reflexes made the speed perfectly safe, and if they thought this was something, they should see the type of landing a pilot trained at Clan Leras preferred. Given a choice, especially on a non-Sandeman world, those would stunt a craft till it was barely a couple of meters off the ground. That usually resulted in one of the watchers panicking and calling the local emergency services before a safe, if overly dramatic, landing.

The lander touched down, and moments later the hatch opened. Keith disembarked, followed by four enlisted Marines. Despite Medart's caution and description, the ma.s.sive gray-skinned Traiti drew sounds of astonishment--and, Medart thought, some fear--from the troopers, and an exclamation of "Dear G.o.d!" from Bradford.

The team stopped about a meter from Medart and saluted. When he'd returned the salute, Keith introduced the team members. "Do you have work for us right away," he asked then, "or should I have them set up their shelter?"

"The shelter," Medart said. "And it might not be a bad idea for them to circulate, let these people get used to them. You can do that as well, or join Colonel Bradford and me; we'll be observing Colonel Cortin at work."