Part 5 (1/2)

”Why, is it Sunday?”

”No.” Odeon chuckled again; it was easy to lose track of time in a hospital! ”That was yesterday; I just thought you might want to join me. I talked to the Academy chaplain, and he's going to offer a special Ma.s.s of Thanksgiving for your recovery.”

Cortin stared at her tea, turning the cup in her gloved hands. ”That's a little premature,” she said at last. ”And I'm not at all sure it's something I'm thankful for. It might've been better if you'd been just a few minutes later.”

She meant it--and that was exactly what he'd been afraid of. ”You shouldn't feel that way, Joanie. G.o.d had a reason for keeping you alive; you've got to believe that.”

”Why?” Cortin asked tiredly. She'd spent quite a few hours thinking about that, when she should've been sleeping but the pain wouldn't let sleep come and nothing seemed to matter except an end to her torment.

”I'm no saint, but I've never done anything really terrible, either.

Certainly nothing bad enough to deserve this living h.e.l.l.”

That was true, Odeon thought. Still--”We can't hope to understand His reasons for what He does,” he said. ”We can only accept. Offer the pain to Him, Joanie. Come to Ma.s.s with me tomorrow, dedicate yourself to Him, and ask Him what He wants of your life.”

He looked so hopeful she couldn't refuse him. ”All right, Mike. I'll go with you, and I'll try to do what you say. Just don't expect too much.”

”I'll settle for anything that'll help you.” Odeon smiled at her, raising his cup. ”To your recovery.”

”Thanks--are you going out tonight?”

He'd been planning on it, but he quickly changed his plans. ”No, why?”

”I'd like some company, then, if you don't mind.” She grimaced.

”Though if you'd prefer a woman who can do something for you instead of a counterfeit, I'd certainly understand.”

”Even disabled, you're more of a real woman than any I've paid to be with,” Odeon said. ”I've always enjoyed your company, even when one of us was too tired or too hurt for fun and games--you know that.”

”I know--I felt the same way.” Cortin managed a smile. ”But I will miss the fun and games, and you'll have to be careful about waking up shooting because you hear something out of place--I haven't learned to stay in the right position while I'm sleeping yet, so it's at night my back acts up worst, and I have a bad tendency to scream when it does.”

At least her sense of humor hadn't completely deserted her, even though the humor now was on the dark side. ”I'll be careful,” he promised.

”I certainly wouldn't want to shoot my favorite recruit.”

She found it comforting to lie beside Mike, even though part of her also found it a near-painful reminder of what they'd shared earlier.

She lay awake for awhile listening to his quiet breathing before it lulled her into a doze, then into deeper sleep and dreams of a better time. It was her Graduation Day; the Duke of Columbia had almost finished pinning on her cla.s.smates' gold Second Lieutenants' bars. Her own, the silver of a First Lieutenant since she was first in her cla.s.s, already gleamed on her immaculate gray uniform. She was impatient for the ceremony to end. She'd seen her recruiter in the crowd, and she wanted to carry out the plans she'd made for him, plans that bore no resemblance to the sometimes-s.a.d.i.s.tic ones her cla.s.smates claimed to have for their recruiters. She'd discovered the surprisingly pleasurable reality of the Enforcement Service's s.e.xual freedom not long after her arrival at the Academy, quickly losing her inhibitions.

Being the only woman in the cla.s.s, she had enjoyed her instructors'

attentions--but the corollary was far less enjoyable. In prewar days, being a teacher's favorite had supposedly meant having an easier time than other students; at the Royal Academy, it meant additional work, more intensive instruction, and more severe testing. The harder they were on her, she was repeatedly told, the better her odds of survival would be when she got out in the field--and she had thrived on the increased challenge, as she'd proven by graduating at the top of her cla.s.s. But much as she had enjoyed her instructors'--and a few of her cla.s.smates'--beds and bodies, it hadn't taken her long to realize that Mike Odeon was the one she wanted most, and she was determined to take full advantage of this chance at him.

The ceremony ended at last; she accepted congratulations--and her first salute, from Lieutenant Odeon. She returned it with the proper dignity, then launched herself at him for a completely undignified, and equally thorough, kiss. He cooperated after a second's startlement, then grinned down at her. ”That isn't the kind of attack I carried out on my recruiter!”

”Oh, that's just the first sortie,” Cortin a.s.sured him, pleased to find that although he was sterile, he certainly wasn't impotent, as quite a few sterile men were; she'd felt that quite clearly during the kiss.

”I think I'm going to like this attack,” he said, still grinning.

”I hope so.” She tightened her arms around him. ”You're staying at the VOQ?”

”Uh-huh.” Odeon raised an eyebrow. ”You're thinking of a tactical strike?”

”Not exactly--more like a siege, if you don't mind my using your toothbrush in the morning. I couldn't think of a reasonable excuse to bring my kit to Graduation in case you did show up.”