Part 3 (2/2)

Cortin would have preferred to keep the information for her own use, but by the time she was able to do anything with it, it would be obsolete, useless. Best to pa.s.s it on to the debriefers, then hope her fellow Enforcement troops would keep the trail warm without taking the quarry that was rightfully hers. ”I'll be glad to talk to them any time they want. And if the team includes an artist, I think I can describe the ones I saw well enough for him to draw.”

”That would help--I'll make sure it has one. And I'll try to get them here before the painkillers wear off; I don't think you'd want them to see you in pain.”

”I don't, and I wouldn't be able to cooperate as well, either. As soon as you can, then.”

”I'll do that.” Odeon turned to leave, then hesitated and turned back.

Joanie went to church Sundays and holy days when she wasn't on duty, though she wasn't what he'd call really devout. Still, it wouldn't hurt to ask. ”Would you like to see a priest?”

Not really, was her first reaction, but on the other hand, why not? As usual, she didn't have anything to confess--part of her, with wry humor, said it was because she hadn't the imagination to think of any interesting sins, as well as not having any opportunities. Might be a good idea to take advantage of this chance, though; if she were accepted for Special Ops, she'd be given Exceptional Holy Orders--empowered to carry out time-critical priestly functions, mostly Last Rites--and she really ought to be sure of being ready for ordination. ”Maybe I should.” She hesitated, then asked, ”Mike--did you give me Last Rites?”

Odeon shook his head. ”By the time I got to you, Sergeant Vincent had already taken care of it.”

”If you get a chance, will you thank him for me?”

”My pleasure.” Odeon bent to kiss her goodbye, then paused when bandaged hands took and held his.

Cortin looked up at him, her throat tight. Maybe he wouldn't fault her for one bit of weakness . . . ”Mike, I know I'm not a real woman any more, but . . . maybe I can still function like one. Will you help me find out? Please?”

”As soon as the plumbing's out and you feel up to it,” Odeon promised, stricken by her uncharacteristic vulnerability. Blessed Mother of G.o.d, he prayed silently, don't let them have robbed her of that, too! She's lost the ability to have children; don't let her be condemned to the constant danger we face without even this consolation! ”Just let me know when, Joanie. I'll be here for you.” He kissed her again, and left. Cortin watched him go, relieved. He'd been rea.s.suring, not scornful, and that was a big help in itself.

She was kept busy the rest of the day, first by the priest, then by medical personnel, and then--over Dr. Egan's objections--by the debriefing team, which included the artist she'd asked for. It also included a lieutenant wearing the silver question-mark badge of one who held an Inquisitor's Warrant, and who was treated with a degree of respect that was highly unusual for a junior officer. Cortin made note of that, then disregarded it; if she was under consideration for something cla.s.sified, she had to expect some non-standard attention.

And he was a good Inquisitor, whatever else he was, eliciting details she didn't remember noticing, gaining her confidence even though she was familiar with the techniques he was using, reading her face and body language well enough that at times he seemed to be reading her mind instead. No, she thought when the team left, he was more than a simple lieutenant!

The drugs had worn off by early the next morning. When an orderly brought her breakfast, Cortin was in physical pain and emotional shock, but she forced herself to be as polite as possible to the orderly, and then to eat in spite of her lack of appet.i.te. Afterward, she endured the medical attentions that brought more pain, telling herself she had to go through that and the accompanying humiliation to reach her goal.

She was glad when it was over and she was left alone; the only person she had any real desire to see was Mike.

He arrived moments after visiting hours began. She started to greet him, but fell silent in shock when she saw his face. Mike had been crying, and there were still tears in his eyes! Hesitantly, she held a hand out to him. ”Mike--?”

He took it, tears again starting to fall. ”Joanie--oh, Joanie, I'm so sorry!”

Her stomach churned with miserable certainty of his answer, but she made herself ask, ”What is it, Mike?”

”Dr. Egan said nurses had heard you talking in your sleep, that the bad news would be easier coming from me, but not to tell you yet, not till you were stronger . . .” He took a deep breath to steady his voice, though the tears were running unchecked down his face. Dammit, there was no kind way to tell her this! ”She's a civilian, she doesn't understand that we can't afford false hopes. Or how important this is--she told me that except for your back, you'd have a complete recovery!” He took another deep breath, trying with a little more success to calm himself. ”Joanie--I'll never share your bed again, and neither will anyone else, unless all you want is company.”

”I'm totally non-functional, then,” Cortin said flatly.

Odeon nodded miserably. ”I'm afraid so. The Brothers . . . damaged you too badly. Egan's team was able to salvage the urinary tract and make a usable opening for it in the skin graft--but I'm afraid the other is gone, permanently.”

Cortin clung to his hands, her mind numb. She wanted to scream, cry, do something to protest this additional, gratuitous despoilment--dear sweet Jeshua, they had been killing her, why do something so pointless?--but she didn't seem to have the will.

Odeon took her in his arms, stroking her and speaking quietly, rea.s.suringly. She was taking it hard, of course--so was he, dammit!--and it was no wonder. Most civilians didn't understand, so they resented the civil and canonical laws that exempted Enforcement personnel from the s.e.xual restrictions everyone else was morally and legally bound to observe--but, thanks to Saint Eleanor of the Compa.s.sionate Mother, Church and civil authorities did understand that people in almost constant danger of sudden, violent death needed more of a distraction than books or cards or dances could provide. Not even s.e.x always helped--but most of the time it could take your mind off the danger enough to relax for a few minutes, or an hour, or if the Compa.s.sionate Mother was kind, an entire night. Joanie wouldn't have that escape any more, which was grossly unfair.

Still, there was a purpose behind everything G.o.d did, Odeon reminded himself, whether a human could perceive it or not. He couldn't imagine what purpose would condemn Joanie to constant pain, as well as all of an Enforcement officer's normal stresses, with no chance of relief--but he believed there was one, and if he were allowed to, he'd help her achieve it.

After several minutes, Cortin pulled back, still dry-eyed. ”If that's the way it is, I guess I'll have to learn to live with it. Thanks for giving it to me straight, Mike--you were right, I'd rather know the truth than get my hopes up and then have them dashed.”

”I'm glad. I thought you'd feel that way--but I was praying I wouldn't just make things worse for you.” He squeezed her hands, debating whether or not he should kiss her, then decided against it until later.

If he was any judge, she was in no mood for affection at the moment, especially the fraternal kind that would emphasize it was the only kind she'd get from now on. ”I have the books,” he said, instead.

<script>