As she experienced, for minutes almost becoming, each of the Sealed
men, Cortin's appreciation of them grew. Tony's quiet, unobtrusive
competence, Ivan's culture and dry humor, the Prince's devotion to his
wife and the Systems, the others' varying individualities--and all of
them loving her, she returning it. The full unity proved to be only
between man and woman, which she found out when Princess Ursula suckled
while Edward was merging with her--but she felt Ursula through him,
knew the Princess shared her through him as well, sharing love with
both.
Later, it was Tiny and Sis who joined her, Tiny's seed still filling
the nun's womb though Cortin smiled, trying to project her delight that
its work was done. The fourth person in this union was unformed as
yet, but undeniably there, conceived in their unity and bathed in all
three's when she and Tiny merged, erupting into each other.
When the unity faded, Cortin kissed both of them.
"Congratulations--what're you going to name him?"
"Name who?" Powell asked.
Cortin glanced at Chang, got a nod, and called, "Gather 'round,
people!" When they did, she said, "Don't ask me how I know, because I
can't tell you--but it's my honor and pleasure to tell you all that Sis
is pregnant. The child's a boy, and Tiny's the father."
There was a tumult of congratulations until Pritchett interrupted,
looking stunned. "But I'm sterile!"
"You were, legally," Chang said with a serene smile. "That is defined,
of course, as a class three or lower sperm count and motility
rating--but as long as sperm are present at all, there is a chance of
conception, however remote. Since we did conceive, that definition no
longer applies; you are demonstrably fertile."
Pritchett hugged both women, then disentangled himself from Cortin to
give his full attention to the mother of his child. Cortin stretched,
catlike, then stood. Once with each of them had been enough to satisfy
her need--though it had also left her with a nagging apprehension.
Could a team so emotionally involved with each other, and especially
with its CO, continue to function properly?
At least they were gathered around the expectant parents, not her, and
seemed to be coming to rapid agreement on something. Of the others,
the Prince and Princess looked wistful, and Bradford and Illyanov were
approaching her. Bradford seemed worried, Illyanov buoyant. "Problem,
Brad?" Cortin asked.
"Maybe, depending on what His Majesty decides to do about two fertile
Strike Force troopers, the waivered one of whom is pregnant." Bradford
frowned. "Normally, you know, she'd be transferred to base duty or
discharged at her option and he'd be transferred to the regulars--but I
happen to think moving either of them would be a mistake. So I'm going
to recommend waivering both of them as long as you're willing to keep
them on Azrael."
"Which will be as long as they're willing to stay," Cortin said.
"Thanks, Brad, but that's not the only problem. We also have a Team
Leader who's just found out she's in love with her entire team--as well
as Their Highnesses and the two of you." She sighed deeply. "I
wouldn't want to change a bit of it, but this does put us in one
horrendous mess, and if we can manage to salvage anything we've
planned, it'll be a major miracle."
"I see no serious problems," Illyanov said cheerfully. "After the
miracles we have just experienced, how can you doubt that God will
continue to help us?"
His confidence was reassuring; Cortin found herself able to grin. "I
don't doubt it a bit. Just remember that we can't count on Him until
we've done all we can do for ourselves."
"I am fully aware of that," Illyanov said with a smile. "And I believe
you can do more than either you or Colonel Bradford have allowed
yourself to realize." He turned, gesturing a request to the Royal
couple to join them. When they did, he bowed. "Your Highnesses, what
limitations are applicable to a Strike Force Team Leader who is also an
Inquisitor?"
"No treason or regicide," Prince Edward said promptly. "Anything else
they do, as long as it's directed toward stopping the terrorists--or
done in the Kingdoms' interests, a proviso I persuaded my father to get
the other Sovereigns to agree to a few days ago--is covered by their
Writs of Immunity."
"An excellent addition, Your Highness," Illyanov said. "And if such an
Inquisitor/Team Leader's opinion of what is in the Kingdoms' best
interest happens not to coincide with current canon or civil law?"
The Prince frowned. "I don't know," he said slowly. "I was at all the
Strike Force planning conferences, and I don't remember that
possibility ever being discussed."
Illyanov turned to Bradford. "The same question, My Lord Bishop. As
Strike Force commander, you must know the answer."
Bradford shook his head. "His Highness is right--the possibility was
never brought up. I know it never occurred to me; now that you bring
it up, it frightens me."
"It should reassure you instead," Illyanov said. "If it occurred to
none of those charged with the Kingdoms' protection, I think it safe to
assume it will not occur to any in a position and with a desire to harm
them." He turned back to Cortin. "I would suggest, beloved, that you
take your Writ at face value and do whatever you think best."
Odeon had left the team group to listen; now he nodded. "I second
that, Joanie. The best way to make a change is to do it--and Sis has
agreed to marry us. Will you perform the ceremony?"
"Wait a minute!" Cortin protested. "Are you all telling me that His
Holiness and Their Majesties gave us more power than they have
themselves?"
"It would appear so," Illyanov said, "since they must obey the law, and
you need not if you believe disobeying to be in the Kingdoms' best
interest."
Cortin felt a sudden brief hysteria. Standing here naked and sweaty,
in definite need of a bath--and they were telling her, with absolute
seriousness, that she was more powerful than King or Pope! That was a
frightening idea--but Mike was right, making changes required action.
Still-- "I . . . let me clean up and think about it. It's too
tempting--sounds too easy."
"We do all need baths," Illyanov agreed, putting his arm around her
waist and starting to urge her toward her rooms. "It will be far less
easy than it sounds, beloved; this merely makes it possible. But we
will all help you."
Before, that sort of presumption would have irritated her, or
worse--she might not have wanted to bathe with him, maybe not with
anyone. Now, though, she realized that she did want company,
specifically Ivan's, and she slid her arm around his waist.
They were silent as the tub filled, Illyanov respecting Cortin's need
to think. He'd had no trouble accepting her as the Protector, unlike a
couple of the others, but he did have the advantage of Dmitrian
traditional prophecies and a mother who'd been matter-of-factly certain
her eldest son would meet the Promised One and fulfill those prophecies
with Her. He'd guessed it might be Joan when she fulfilled part of
them by becoming an Inquisitor who assured herself of her subjects'
guilt, had thought it highly probable when she'd fulfilled another part
by celebrating her restored sexuality with all of them, and had become
positive when Michael told him she knew nothing of her mission, also as
prophesied. Becoming one with her hadn't been necessary to his belief
in her, though he admitted to himself that it was good to know rather
than simply believe. The awesome vastness of even the body-limited
part of her Self was both humbling and a promise of what humanity in
the Systems could become under her protection and guidance. The
permanent Protector's later, of course--but most definitely Joan's for
now.
Cortin stirred the rising water with her foot, watching the ripples,
comforted by the man sitting on the edge of the tub with her, his arm
around her shoulders. Taken at face value, her Writ did give her
almost unlimited power, and she'd like nothing better than to use it to
give those she loved the first expanded Family. Most of them, anyway
. . . the royals would have to find other spouses at their own level,
Ivan and Brad already had families and intentions of expanding them
with friends/lovers, and she . . . well, she knew perfectly well she
couldn't be part of the marriage. She'd give them a nice Nuptial Mass,
though.
The thought of Mass made her think of Communion, the rapturous
absorption in Divinity she experienced sharing Jeshua's Body and Blood.
And had experienced earlier today, first drinking from Mike, then in
union. It was confusing that three such different experiences could
affect her the same way . . .
"Shall we get in before the water gets cold?"
"Huh?" Cortin glanced at her companion, seeing amused sympathy on his
face. "Sorry, Ivan. I was thinking about something else."
"Are you trying to teach your instructor to suck eggs?" Illyanov asked,
one eyebrow raised. He slid into the thigh-deep water, turned to help
her in. "Have you decided?"
"Decided? Oh--yes. I've got to make the effort; I'll marry them
whenever they want. And pray the Pope or someone doesn't annul it."
She frowned. "I wouldn't be too worried if it was still Pope
Anthony--but Lucius is as conservative as they come. I'm not sure what
he'll do . . . and for no reason I can pinpoint, I don't trust him."
In that case, Illyanov thought, neither did he--but he kept to the
primary subject. "A valid marriage cannot be annulled, and that will
be one, under the provisions of your Writ." Illyanov picked up the
shampoo, began washing her hair. "It seems to me a good idea to marry
them as early as possible, although--like your suspicion of Pope
Lucius--I have no specific reason for the idea." He paused, then went
on. "I am also concerned with what will happen when he and the
Sovereigns realize the power they gave you and those like you. Ex post
facto laws are invalid, so they will be unable to negate what you
do--but it would not surprise me if they act quickly to restrict those
powers."
"How quickly is quickly?" Cortin returned the favor, grabbing the soap
and lathering her companion.
"All were involved in issuing the Writs, so all must agree on their
modification. I am astonished that Prince Edward's modification was
accepted so rapidly, though it was relatively minor; this is major, so
it should take a Sovereign's Conference. Even with preparations made
as fast as possible, I would be surprised if it could convene in less
than a month. Most, you know, take a year or more to arrange."
"I never thought I'd be grateful for bureaucratic delays," Cortin said,
"but this time I am." She thought of something, frowned. "Wait--I
can't use the Writ yet! Not until we're activated, and who knows how
long that'll be? If they catch on before then, either modify the Writs
or simply never activate us, I won't be able to do anything!"
"Not true," Illyanov said. "You simply cannot use it openly until
then." He grinned. "You are too straightforward for politics,
beloved--one of the reasons I love you. Your Writ has been valid since
it was issued, as is whatever you have done or will do under it. Marry
the team, then lay the groundwork, bring together the rest of those you
need for what you must accomplish, let the public--through a reporter,
of course--see you at prayer and play as well as work, continue giving
out the blessed cartridges."
"Play?" Cortin cocked her head, looking up at him.
"Not this kind, of course." Illyanov returned the look, affectionately
stroking her breast. "As Michael said, this can truly be shared only
with those we love. I had in mind perhaps a pair of kittens?"
Cortin gaped at him, then grinned and splashed water on his chest.
"You learned that about me during unity, while I only get feeling?
That doesn't seem quite fair--not that I can complain about what I do
get!"
"You know better than to jump at conclusions," Illyanov chided.
"Anthony, who has seen you with them, is not the only one who is aware
of your fondness for the young of all species, particularly the feline
one--a knowledge I got, not from your men, but from your reactions to
things like calendar pictures."
"Oops--not thinking too clearly at the moment, I guess. Too many
distractions. Sorry, Ivan." Cortin ducked under the water to rinse
her hair, but more to hide embarrassment. She did know better than
that; her only excuse was the shock of finding she loved--and was loved
by--so many people. She'd get over the shock--probably very soon, as
nice as it felt--but right now she was almost as much of a mess as the
situation they were all in.
"No apologies necessary," Illyanov said when she surfaced. "The . . .
total involvement shocked all of us. You may believe me suffering from
an excess of my ancestral Russian mysticism, but I felt I was one with
God. Turn around, I need to get your back.--You do realize that
Eleanor and Joseph's baby is the first human since the Blessed Virgin
to be conceived free of Original Sin?"
Cortin turned her head to stare at him. "Is that more of your Russian
mysticism?"
"Simple logic, beloved. A child conceived by parents incapable of sin
must share that protection, at least until it reaches the age of reason
and must decide for itself."
Cortin thought for a moment, then nodded. "That does make sense. I
haven't figured out all the implications of not being able to sin, yet."
"None of us have," Illyanov said. "It is possible we will receive some
surprises as to what is and is not sinful, as well. While God is
infallible, human interpretation of His Will is not." He smiled. "I
also have a feeling that we other Sealed Inquisitors will have to
imitate you in assuring ourselves of a subject's guilt before going
beyond the first stage of interrogation. I pray we are given
truthsense to do so accurately, lest we release those who will harm the
ones we are sworn to protect."
"That would have to be a part of it," Cortin agreed. "Try some test
questions on me. I'll try to lie on one of them; if you've got the
same kind of truthsense now that I do, you'll be able to feel which
one."
"Questions I do not know the answers to. Having been your instructor,
I know you well enough for that to be difficult; let me think."
He had finished bathing her and was being bathed in turn before he was
able to think of any. As he'd told her, he knew too much about her for
most conventional questions to be evidential, and the unconventional
ones he really wanted to ask would tell her too much. "Do you believe
the Protector's appearance will make our profession obsolete?"
"No," Cortin said promptly. "We'll be just as necessary, though not
always in the same way, I'm sure." She grinned. "Not everyone's going
to be willing to give up even the little free will we did, either to be
sure of Heaven or to avoid Hell. Criminals still won't give up their
information without a fight, and they'll still need mortal punishment;
there'll definitely be a place for Inquisitors!"
"That is good to know. Ah . . . let me see. I do not remember that we
ever went into your pre-Academy background, with the exception of your
family being a farming one; if the subject would not be too painful,
that might be a possible area of evidence."
"My adoptive family," Cortin corrected him. "But I can't say my
childhood was any more painful than average, so go ahead."
"Do you remember your biological parents at all?"
"No. As far as I know, I never saw either of them; I was the classic
orphan left in a basket on someone's front porch."
"What about siblings?"
"One, an older brother. Though Mother and Father would have dearly
loved more; I remember regular Masses for that intention."
"And how did they feel when you went into Enforcement?"
"As surprised as I was, and I think a little disappointed, though they
tried not to show it. We . . . lost touch . . . not long after I went
to the Academy."
"Not a close family, then."
"Not particularly," Cortin agreed. "When I gave up farming, we had no
interests in common any longer, so I suppose it was natural to lose
contact. It was my fault as much as theirs; I got so absorbed in my
studies that I took longer and longer answering letters, and when I
did, it was about the Academy and my classmates. Also . . . I didn't
mention it, but I'm sure they knew I was using our dispensation, and
they didn't approve."
"Fortunate for us, though not for them." That seemed to close that
subject; Illyanov sought for another. "Ah . . . assuming the Protector
defeats Shayan and we are able to expand beyond the Systems' present
limits, do you believe we will be able to avoid contact with the
Empire?"
"I think so, for another couple of centuries at least."
Illyanov quirked an eyebrow. "And that, beloved, is true only as a
hope, not a conviction. So we have proven two things."
"That at least under test circumstances lying isn't sinful," Cortin
agreed, "and that you--by extension, Dave and Brad too--have a reliable
truthsense."
"And we will find out more as we go." Illyanov studied her for a
moment. "What do you truly believe about the Empire, beloved?"
Cortin rubbed the back of her neck in a gesture she'd picked up from
Odeon. "I'm afraid of them," she admitted slowly. "I can't say it's a
totally justified fear--there's been no contact since the Flight, after
all, and all the comm intercepts I've heard confirm their
non-interference claims. But that's hard to believe of any government."
Illyanov nodded. "I share that particular reservation, though not
strongly. I believe contact will be traumatic, but ultimately
beneficial. Like your fear, my optimism is not totally justified. It
is stronger than a mere hunch, however, and I confess I would like to
meet some of them face to face."