Part 60 (1/2)
”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?”