Part 3 (1/2)
”True, especially when they belong to His Majesty's Own. And I've got a couple of months before I'm well enough I have to make a final decision--I presume I am eligible for a disability discharge?”
”Yes, of course, at full pay. But I don't like what I think you're getting at. Joanie, don't do anything you'll regret.”
”I don't intend to,” Cortin said quietly. ”I know what I have to do, though. If I can stay in and do it, that's best, of course. If I have to get out, though, I'll do that instead. One way or another, Brother Lawrence Shannon and the rest of them on that raiding party are gone--and so are any Brothers who get in my way to them.” She looked at her bandaged hands for a long moment, then back up at him. ”Which I'm sure you guessed when Egan pa.s.sed along the information that I was keeping their marks.”
Odeon nodded. ”Partly--that you'd go after them. Not that you'd consider going rogue to do it.” Enforcement took superlative care of its members and their families, if they had any . . . but when a trooper went bad, all its resources went into hunting and then killing him. Or her. Odeon had partic.i.p.ated in three of those hunts, hating the necessity but as grimly determined as any to rid the world of them.
Dammit, Enforcement troopers were sworn to protect the Kingdoms and their citizens--when one went rogue, he had to be stopped! And yet . . . the idea of taking part in such a hunt with Joanie as the target upset him more than it should. Not that the alternative was any better! ”Joanie, please--don't do it.”
”As I said, I don't intend to.” Cortin took a deep breath. ”You know me too well to believe I'd do something like going rogue if I had any choice in the matter. And I need time and resources a rogue wouldn't get, to do what I have to--but I can't do it if I'm stuck behind a desk, either.” She frowned, still unable to make sense of the feeling of absolute certainty that had come over her during the Brothers'
torture. ”Mike, we both know I'm as practical and non-mystical as anyone could be--but while the Brothers were working me over, I . . .
realized, or discovered, or something, that eliminating them is my job.
It helps that I have a personal reason for wanting to, but that's a bonus. Whatever happens to me, whatever I have to do to accomplish it, I don't have any choice about the fact. I have to get rid of the Brothers--and I plan to enjoy it.” She stared at her hands again.
”Then I may be able to get rid of these h.e.l.l-marks. Can you understand that?”
”I think so--and G.o.d help me, I couldn't blame you if you did go after them on your own. But I'd still have to help hunt you down.” Odeon was less positive of that than he made himself sound, though. He wasn't at all certain he'd be able to, even if not doing it meant he'd share her outlawry--if the thought of hunting her was upsetting, the idea of actually harming her was revolting. Worse than revolting, really--impossible was more like it.
The sudden awareness of that stunned him. He hadn't realized he felt so strongly about her! He shouldn't; no one in Special Ops should have any more than professional respect for another person. There most emphatically should not be anything like that strong a feeling! It was almost like--no. He was too professional to love anyone, especially a fellow officer, however many times he might have shared a bed with him or her.
On the other hand, what else could it be? He'd have no objection to hunting down Wolf Corbett, say, if it were necessary--and Wolf had been on his team the longest of any, almost a year now, and was the closest friend other than Joanie that he had.
He sent up a quick prayer for guidance, and felt an immediate sense of rea.s.surance. He did love Joanie, and it was all right . . . but she didn't love him yet, so there was no reason to burden her with the knowledge of his feelings.
”Is something wrong, Mike?” Cortin's voice brought him back to the present. ”You look like you ate something that's disagreeing with you.”
”No, I'm fine. It's your problems we should be worrying about now, anyway.” Odeon made himself smile. ”Let's a.s.sume you make it into this cla.s.sified project, and that it's something that'll let you at the Brothers.”
”We might as well,” Cortin said, s.h.i.+fting position slightly. ”The first thing is to get off these drugs. The sooner I learn to cope with what's happened, the sooner I can get to work. I need to get my strength back, hone up my hand-to-hand combat, and do some serious study of interrogation techniques. I'm okay at first-stage, but Brothers don't break that easily; I'm going to have to be more than just good, at all three stages. Especially third. Will you help me?”
”Of course.” That was his Joanie, all right, Odeon thought proudly.
No crying or self-pity for her; instead, a plan that would let her accomplish what she intended. He took the clipboard from the foot of her bed and studied it for a moment. ”Dear G.o.d! They do have you in deep, don't they? Do you want to make a cold break, or would you rather taper off?”
”Cold break,” Cortin said firmly. Even though it was probably a decision she would regret, it was what she was certain he would have done.
”Right.” Odeon made the necessary notations, initialed each one, then replaced the clipboard. ”You can't do much about exercise or combat training until you're out of bed, but you can read . . . mmm. I think you should go for an Inquisitor's Warrant, even though you won't be able to do the practical work right away. If you want to go that route, I know an instructor at the Academy who'll give you cla.s.sroom credit for reading the course materials and pa.s.sing a test, then let you do the practical when you're back on your feet.”
Cortin nodded. ”I would--thanks.” The Warrant wouldn't do her any legal good if she did go rogue, but she'd have the skill, and letting her subjects know she'd had a Warrant should make it easier to break them. ”How soon can I get the texts?”
”I should be able to have them for you by visiting hours tomorrow.
Anything else?”
”Newspapers, please--and a pair of gloves, for when the bandages come off.”
”No problem; Sergeant Vincent promised to send your gear along. I figure it should be here tomorrow or the next day.”
”Thanks--I should have thought to ask.”
”You did have other things on your mind at the time,” Odeon pointed out. He hesitated, went on reluctantly. ”Speaking of which, as soon as you feel up to it, you should be debriefed.”