Bradford

: MAIN STORY
: The Alembic Plot

Cortin climbed the stairs to the second floor, Bain following her,

satisfied with the results of her evening's work. Her fear that Sis'

work would leave her vulnerable to sexual stimulus from anyone,

including a Brother of Freedom, had proven unfounded; even when she'd

used eroticine to force an erection on the prisoner she'd chosen for

her evening's work, her only response had been anticipation of a

challenge,
o arousal at all. She could relax, then, concentrate on

doing her new job to the best of her ability. And she'd found Dave

next door; when he'd settled his prisoner for the night, she'd been

eager to share her discovery with him.



When she entered the common-room, she had to hold back a gasp of

astonishment. She'd expected a certain amount of showiness on the

public floor, and it was in the Kingdoms' interest to have the

interrogation areas as well-equipped as possible--but she hadn't

expected to find much more than average living conditions, comfortable

and with the promised privacy. This was luxury, the kind she hadn't

believed real even in stories about royalty. Carpets so thick she

seemed to be wading in them, rather than walking on them--it felt

almost criminal wearing boots on them--paintings even she could see

must be worth at least a small fortune, couches and chairs she wasn't

sure she'd dare to sit in, some covered in fur . . . Then her

admiration was interrupted; Illyanov embraced her, kissing her

thoroughly.



"I know you sent a message about no visitors," he murmured, "but after

last night, I thought you might wish the opportunity. If not, there is

no harm done."



"True, and you're right," Cortin replied with equal quietness. "The

prisoner didn't affect me, but Dave sure did." She raised her voice to

a normal level. "Want to introduce the colleagues I haven't met yet?"



"My pleasure, Excellency." As he was doing so, Illyanov saw Odeon

gesturing him to where her team had gathered. When he joined them,

Odeon said, "You've been in on this as much as any of us, Ivan; Dave's

got some information that may put a different light on Joanie's

sexuality. Go ahead, Dave."



Bain did so, telling them about Cortin's lack of reaction to her

prisoner. "It seems odd," he finished, "that she wouldn't react,

especially with him dripping on eroticine, if it's as involuntary as

she--and we--thought."



"That agrees with what happened this morning," Illyanov said. "We

slept linked last night, and were still so when I woke." He smiled.

"You are all aware of her new ability to intensify climax?" When they

nodded, also smiling, he went on. "That ability can also be most

stimulating if you happen to be within her and relaxed. My point,

however, is that she did not let it continue; she removed herself

before either of us became too aroused. I agree with David: she has

some control, though it may not always be conscious control."



Odeon traded glances with Chang. That sounded as reasonable as the

truth about Cortin, and considerably more believable; they'd go along.

"Then maybe it wasn't a fluke, or fear, when she came down after the

first time," he said. "What about it, Sis?"



"Unconscious control?" Chang said thoughtfully. "I should like to

believe so, and from what you all say, it does sound reasonable. As a

hypothesis, then: she indulges herself based on--if you will excuse the

term--available, acceptable resources and time. I should like more

evidence to either confirm or refute that, however; I have obviously

been wrong on that subject before."



Odeon grinned at her. That was a more reasonable hypothesis for the

others--and for Joanie herself, until it was time for her to go

public--than he could've come up with. "We'll get it for you, though I

don't know if we'll be able to tonight." He waved at the group around

Cortin; they had her almost undressed, with her full cooperation, and

were getting out of their own uniforms as all of them moved toward her

bedroom. "But if one of us can arrange to be her last for the night,

he can do what Ivan did last night. If he's the only one with her, and

doesn't let her move away, the results should be conclusive."



"A good indication, at least," Chang agreed. "And I will put a

sedative doser in the bedside table in the event the conclusion is not

what we currently believe."



Cortin didn't have time to wonder why none of her team were in the

group surrounding her; Illyanov's embrace and kiss had been quite

enough to start the ache in her belly, and the Inquisitors' caresses

had turned it into a burning need--one they seemed to sense and perhaps

share, because almost as soon as they got her to the huge bed, one of

them was sliding into her, his urgent thrustings sending her into a

spiral of sheer pleasure.



* * * * *



When she fell asleep, it was with Pritchett holding her, relaxed inside

her, murmuring that Ivan had said she liked sleeping that way. And he

was still there when she woke, a comfortable strong presence in spite

of the fact, since the two of them were alone, that she must have

overslept. He was smiling at her, and when she started to pull herself

reluctantly away, he held her gently but firmly where she was. She

started to object--her body was already reacting to him--but he

silenced her with a kiss. "It's okay, little fox," he said

affectionately. "Just relax, trust me. You'll be fine."



"But--"



"Just relax, I said." Pritchett kissed her again, rolling so she was

beneath him as she preferred. "Sis says your drive may very well be

self-regulating, and I'm the lucky one who gets to find out with you.

If not, she left a sedative." He paused, smiling. "It is something

you--and we--need to know." He began moving gently.



He was right, Cortin thought. They should all know her reactions--and

he felt far too good, growing and stiffening inside her, for her to

want him to leave. "Mmm," she agreed, yielding. Last night had been a

feast, she'd loved it and intended to repeat it whenever she had the

time and interested partners--but it would be nice if she could snack,

too, not have to gorge all the time.



"That's my little fox," Pritchett said indulgently. "Are you all

right?"



"I'm fine." He was at his full size now, solid and delightful, his

gentle movements arousing her more slowly than she'd have believed

possible after her recent experiences. "And you feel so good . . ."



"Slow and easy this time, hmm? I think so, too." Pritchett smiled,

kissing her, caressing her breasts. His little fox--their Joanie--was

something special, all right. Even if other women had shared her new

endowments, he didn't know of any who'd have been either willing or

able to delight a group of men the way she had two nights running. It

was too bad she didn't love her Enforcement partners the way they did

her--she must think they came to her only for the sex, which was

laughable. That you could get anywhere, with the right money. But she

was still willing--hell, eager!--to have them.



Their lovemaking was unhurried and thorough, different from any she'd

had since her surgery, but Cortin enjoyed it just as much. When they

were done, they bathed and dressed--to Cortin's amusement, Pritchett

had a complete set of clothing in her room; she'd have to make sure the

rest did, too--then they went to the common-room with Pritchett happily

carrying the still-full sedative injector.



The only one there was Powell, who smiled when he saw the injector.

"It went all right, then--great! The rest of us have all been to Mass

and had breakfast, and they're getting settled in. What do you want me

to do?"



Cortin didn't know enough about his conditioning to give a good answer,

so she said, "You tell me. You need debriefed by an expert, of course,

but since you joined us have you had any gear issued, or been paid, or

taken care of personal matters?" She saw a puzzled expression,

remembered, and added, "Oh, by the way--welcome to Team Azrael."



He looked dazed for a moment, then his expression cleared. "I was

working for you the whole time, then--thank you! About the other,

though--no, none of it."



"Um." She thought for a moment, then went to a phone and dialed

Bradford's number.



"Colonel Bradford's office, Corporal Callahan speaking, sir."



"This is Colonel Cortin. I'd like to speak with Colonel Bradford,

please, if he's available."



"Yes, ma'am--one moment, please."



Seconds later, Bradford was on the line. "What can I do for you,

Colonel?"



"I'm not sure. Does being the High King's Inquisitor let me borrow you

to debrief someone?"



"It lets you borrow anyone you need to do your job. Who do you need

debriefed, and how soon?"



"My new team member, Lieutenant Powell. As soon as you can, please."



"Half an hour soon enough?"



"That'd be fine, thanks. I've already gotten some useful information

from him, but I'm not good enough at the memory-enhancing techniques to

do a really thorough job."



"He's the one who told you about the raid on the Blue Sisters' convent?"



"Yes."



"I'll be over as soon as I can. I'm in charge of the task force

protecting them; I'll need all the good information I can get."



"I'll probably be saying Mass when you get here, then. You can talk to

him in our quarters if you want, or you're welcome to use my public

office on the main floor. Any idea how long it'll take?"



"That's hard to say exactly, but two hours is about average. And since

you haven't said Mass yet, I'd appreciate it if you wait till I get

there; I like to attend all my priests' services at least once."



"Of course." She couldn't refuse her Bishop, and since no one had

commented on her bearing during Mass, her absorption was either normal

or not noticeable, so it shouldn't be a problem. "Then this afternoon

I can have someone help Powell get the Service formalities straightened

out--payroll, uniforms, ID, all that sort of thing." She shook her

head, even though he couldn't see the gesture. "Things are going too

fast and working out too well, Brad. I'm living in luxury, doing

valuable work I enjoy, having an incredible sex life--I ought to be

overjoyed, but I'm not. It scares me."



Looked at from her point of view, Bradford could understand that. But

since he'd helped with much of the maneuvering that had gotten her into

the first two situations--that the third had worked out so well had

been by God's mercy, not human skill--he didn't share her apprehension.

But he also couldn't reveal any more of that maneuvering than she

already knew about, so he tried to reassure her instead. "I don't see

anything to worry about, Joan. Think back--everything that's happened

to you since the attack has been perfectly reasonable, given your

talent as an Inquisitor and Their Majesties' determination to put down

the terrorists. If you weren't High King's Inquisitor, someone else

would be--someone less talented. As for the speed, well," he let his

smile show in his voice, "from what I hear, you were the one in a hurry

to qualify as an Inquisitor and get to work--and I know you didn't

waste any time getting your team together."



"I can't argue that," Cortin said. She had pushed hard to learn, and

learned faster than she'd expected even with that amount of work.

"Motivation does work wonders--but it still bothers me."



"We'll talk about it more this afternoon, then, if you're not at a

point in an interrogation where you can't take a break for an hour or

so."



"I should be able to manage; the one I'm working on seemed to be coming

along nicely when I left him last night, and I doubt it'll take me more

than a couple of hours to finish him."



Bradford was both astonished and pleased. Except for Powell, he'd

chosen these subjects himself, as being particularly resistant. Either

he'd been wrong about one, or she had an even more accurate sense for

individual weaknesses than he'd realized. "I'd have expected at least

two days of concentrated effort for any one of them--what did you do?"



"Thought aloud for his benefit, then left him alone under a twelve-hour

dose of eroticine. Not very original, but effective."



"That's what counts." Bradford shook his head, glad she couldn't see

the chagrin on his face. "Sometimes simple methods are the most

effective." And the hardest to spot special vulnerability to, he

reminded himself. "I'll be at the chapel in about fifteen

minutes--talk to you more this afternoon."



"Right." Cortin hung up, turned to the two waiting. "He mentioned a

chapel--where is it?"



"On the main floor," Pritchett told her. "Dedicated to St. Eleanor, of

course."



The patron saint of Enforcement, yes, since there were no Inquisitor

saints. "Good--I'd hoped for a chapel, but I hadn't really expected

one."



"I'll show you where it is." Pritchett grinned. "I go to Mass every

day, when I can--glad I didn't miss it today."



"Can I go too?" Powell asked hesitantly. "I've been once, so I can't

take Communion, but . . ."



"Certainly!" Cortin exclaimed. "Whenever you want, as long as it

doesn't interfere with your duties. Shall we go, gentlemen?"



Not at all to her surprise, after seeing other parts of the Lodge,

Cortin found the chapel to be exquisitely--and expensively!--equipped

and decorated. She went into the vestry for some private meditation,

then put on her stole and went out to say Mass.



Bradford was struck by the change in her when she went to the altar and

began the preliminary prayers. She was still attractive, rather than

beautiful, but there was an aura about her now that made her seem as

beautiful as the ceremony itself. She was completely wrapped up in it,

obviously unaware of those in the chapel with her except for the little

time it took her to administer Communion. He couldn't be sure if she

even needed her Missal, or if her references to it were simply as part

of the ceremony; somehow, he believed it was the latter. He'd only

seen this sort of absorption twice before, he thought in awe. He'd

have to report it to his superior--and he'd definitely have to talk to

her later. After talking to Odeon!



* * * * *



As soon as Mass was over, Bradford took advantage of Cortin's offer to

borrow her main-floor office. He should have summoned Powell for

questioning, but what he'd just seen wouldn't let him; it was Odeon he

called for. And, as he'd half expected, Cortin's second in command was

trying to conceal something, his cold pale eyes revealing to the

Inquisitor what his impassive expression hid: he was afraid. Not for

himself, though; for Cortin?



Bradford gestured Odeon to join him in the informal seating area. When

he did, Bradford leaned forward. "Mike, I have no intention of doing

anything to hurt Joanie. But it's pretty clear you and Sis are hiding

something you've found out about her--something her Commanding Officer

and Bishop ought to know about."



Odeon was silent. Bradford had a point, but was it a strong enough one

to justify risking Joanie's life? No, he corrected himself, not her

life--her mission. Their lives. It was true that Bradford could be

helpful, as Bishop of the Strike Forces--but again, helpful enough to

justify the risk? Well, he'd been promised support, so there should be

a way to find out.



Bradford watched, initial puzzlement quickly turning to awe as Odeon's

eyes lost focus and he seemed to glow, despite the bright office

lighting. Yes, there was definitely something highly unusual happening

in and around Team Azrael!



When Odeon became aware of his surroundings again, he grinned. "You're

in, Colonel. What's going on is hard to believe, but you'll get help."

He sobered. "And you'll get help keeping it from all except the very

few with a need to know--plus one who has a need not to know."



"Something else we have to keep from her for her own good?"



"Hers and the entire Systems'," Odeon said. "It's why she attracts

people in spite of being an Inquisitor. Brad, she's the Herald and

acting Protector--and she doesn't know it, can't afford to know it

until we've gotten people ready to accept her changes. As long as she

doesn't know her identity and powers, Shayan can't use his against

her--in fact, he's afraid to use them at all, for fear of waking hers."



Bradford had gone pale. Hard as it was to believe, he couldn't

disbelieve. "But she'd win!"



"There's no guarantee of that," Odeon said grimly. "I think she

would--but the only limit I'm sure of on Shayan's power is his

inability to create life. Joan's limited herself to restrain him and

give us a chance." He grimaced. "That's how I understand it, anyway;

I could be misinterpreting what I was shown. But I'm positive we can't

afford to tell her who she really is. We've got to act normal as long

as she does--with a few exceptions."



"Normal." Bradford shuddered. "Around the one who's supposed to judge

us for eternity? Or, from what you said about being acting Protector,

maybe not make the final judgement?"



"I can't be sure myself," Odeon said. "I have the feeling that

anything she does in that capacity will be permanent, or there'd be no

reason for an acting one, but it is just a feeling." He paused. "And

acting normal around her's possible. Not easy, but possible, because

Sis and I are doing it--and essential." He quirked an eyebrow, smiled.

"Fun, too, at times. One thing she's doing is reclaiming the

jurisdiction over sex that Shayan claimed in the Garden. If you've got

any doubts on that score, just remember the shelter party."



Bradford did, his mind going back to her enthusiasm and the incredible

pleasure she'd given her men and her guests. "That is going to be one

of the hardest things to convince most people of," he said eventually.

"Is that going to be the Seal of Life God said the Protector would

bring?"



"No--though that's not a bad guess." Odeon told him about the

early-hours visit by the man in the white Enforcement uniform,

including himself and Sis drinking from the still-unconscious Cortin.

"From that and everything else I've seen," he concluded, "the New

Kingdom--for lack of my ability to imagine a better name--is going to

be a lot more enjoyable, as well as a lot more challenging."



"A lot more sensual, at any rate," Bradford said drily. "Do you think

that means all Her priests will be women?"



"I doubt it," Odeon said after a moment's thought "Even though

Jeshua's were all men until not long before the War, which would only

be fair. But we have a life fluid of our own, and knowing our Joanie,

she'll want it used both ways." He paused, then grinned. "And it

wouldn't surprise me if the normal arrangement was to celebrate this

Sealing with a priest of the opposite sex."



"Normal--but not necessary?"



"No, or Sis wouldn't have been able to take it from Joanie." Odeon

hesitated, then went on. "I wouldn't have been able to tell you all

this unless it was highly probable you'd want to be on her team if you

knew. If that's right and you do, either Sis or I can Seal you to her;

if not, you'll have to wait till she goes public."



"I do," Bradford said without hesitation. "From you, since I agree

that there's no time to waste."



"Good." Odeon rose as Bradford knelt in front of him. "Drink, then,

the Seed of Life."



Bradford was hesitant at first, taking only what welled out--and that

was enough for the union to form. Odeon felt the hesitancy dissolve,

felt Bradford's awed pleasure as God's Presence filled and cleansed

him, shared his fear that it would end--and then his joyous realization

that it wouldn't, that he'd been accepted and was wholly God's now.



When it was over, Bradford shook his head, looking dazed. "I had no

idea . . . and Mike, I don't feel like conducting even a Stage One

after that. I need to come down, if you don't mind."



"Me too," Odeon said. "The repetitions, or whatever they end up being

called, won't be that prolonged or intense, of course, but I'm

beginning to think the Sealing itself always will be. And that we'll

have to allow for a wind-down period--most likely sexual, the way I

felt and felt you feel. Though Sis and I didn't, until after Joanie

was on her feet."



"Of course not," Bradford said. "I'd like sex--but what I need is

talk. To help Joanie effectively, I've got to know exactly what she

and we are trying to accomplish, and--if possible--why." He found a

chair without looking, settled into it. When Odeon had followed suit,

he went on. "Since you and Sis were chosen directly by Jeshua, you two

are the obvious leaders of our group. If she's around, maybe she

should join us."



"If she's awake, you mean," Odeon corrected, grinning. "When I saw her

last night, she and Ivan were heading for her room, looking like they

intended to make a night of it."



Bradford looked at him quizzically, then echoed the grin. "And a

disciple of him, I'd be willing to bet."



"A bet you would win, Colonel." Chang stood just inside the door, her

arm around the St. Dmitri Inquisitor's waist. "He, and the rest of

Team Azrael--including Lieutenant Powell. Pardon the intrusion, but I

felt we would be needed, and no one answered when we knocked." She

smiled at Bradford. "It is good to have you in our group, Colonel."



"Thanks--I'm happy I could be. And we are off duty." Bradford

gestured the newcomers to seats. "At least off Enforcement duty, and

you and Mike outrank the rest of us in this field."



"As we heard you tell him, yes." Chang and Illyanov took seats.

"However, it is we four, not two, who are her primary staff. Your

responsibility will be liaison with the Church. Mike and I must guide

her into her temporary role. Ivan is to show her that her dual role of

judge and exalter is complementary rather than contradictory."



"That's going to be hardest, I think," Bradford said. "I know who she

is, and I still have trouble with the Lifegiver as an Inquisitor."



Illyanov smiled. "Did your parents never punish you, then?"



"Yes, and I get the connection--punishment, and hopefully correction

before it's too late to change. But the scale is so different!"



"And right now she's more interested in the punishment part than the

correction one," Odeon said. "That's not surprising--but helping her

change that emphasis has to be Sis' and my first priority."



"That will not keep her from carrying out her punishment and execution

duties, will it?" Illyanov asked.



"How could it?" Chang countered. "She is Judge as well as

Guardian--and even if it were not so, she could not deliberately fail

to perform any legal duty she is sworn to. Even with her knowledge of

her destiny deliberately hidden, she is Protector if only for a time,

as well as being the true one's Herald, and therefore incapable of sin."



"Which doesn't mean she can't make mistakes," Odeon added. "Being

human, she can--both has, and will."



Bradford frowned. "Any idea when she'll realize who she is?"



"Nothing firm, but logic says not until she has to--maybe as late as

when she confronts Shannon, or the real Protector surfaces."



"Which gives us time to discuss this more later," Bradford said,

glancing at the wall clock. "I did promise Joanie I'd question Powell

for her, and . . ." He hesitated, then went on. "I . . . now that I

know who she is, I feel I have to watch her work."



"Understandable." Odeon nodded, then gave the Bishop-Inquisitor a

half-smile. "Does questioning Chuck have to be formal, or can you

enjoy yourselves in the process?"



"Hmm?" Bradford frowned in puzzlement, then smiled. "Since he's

already agreed to cooperate, I don't see any need for a formal

interrogation. Why?"



"Let's go up to the common-room, and I'll show you."



When they got there, Powell was sprawled comfortably in front of the

record player, listening to Melnyikov's "Musical Explorations" and

caressing himself. Odeon grinned, at last able to fully appreciate the

composer, and tempted to follow Powell's example. Melnyikov's previous

works had hinted at eroticism; this one embraced and celebrated it.

That made it a popular piece with Enforcement and much of the nobility,

frowned on by the Church and most landfolk. Rumor had it that

Melnyikov had used biological research--or Shayan's aid--to make

"Explorations" so effective; after what he'd learned recently, Odeon

suspected a different source. He glanced at Bradford, saw a

speculative look, and raised a curious eyebrow.



"You were right to suggest an informal session," Bradford said

appreciatively. "I'd almost forgotten his training--I'll probably get

better results this way than by the more conventional methods."



"No doubt enjoying yourself in the process," Illyanov said.



"No doubt at all," Bradford agreed, removing his tunic and undershirt.

"You're welcome to stay and participate, of course, either with him or

setting an example."



"He is strongly attracted to Michael," Illyanov pointed out, "so if the

two of you concentrate on him--"



"Ivan and I will set the example," Chang finished.



More

;