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."



Cortin looked at him quizzically. "Even the non-human ones?"



"Perhaps especially those," Illyanov admitted, smiling. "But I fear I

am monopolizing your time; perhaps we should rejoin the others." He

helped her finish rinsing him, then got out of the tub and gave her a

hand up.



Clean and dressed--someone had thoughtfully laid Illyanov's uniform out

on Cortin's bed--the two returned to the common-room. The rest were

already back, and Brady was serving herb tea and small cakes. Cortin

took one, though she wasn't really hungry, and nibbled at it until

Brady left. Then she got the group's attention and said, "Ivan came up

with an idea a few minutes ago. I don't particularly like it, but I

can definitely see where it could be useful: let a reporter spend some

time with us, enough to get to know us as people instead of symbols."



That got a mixed reaction, from Degas' wince to Odeon's thoughtful nod.

"Personally," her Team-second said after a moment's thought, "I don't

like it any better than you do . . . but otherwise, it sounds good.

And we can handle anything, for a short enough time."



"A week should be about right," Bradford said. "And I think I know the

ideal reporter to invite."



Cortin cocked her head. "That expression says you're up to something,

Brad. Just who is this ideal reporter?"



"Sara Blackfeather, of the New Roman Times."



Cortin stared at him in shocked disbelief. "Are you feeling all right?

She not only despises Enforcement, rumor has it she's Pope Lucius'

mistress!"



"Not just rumor," Bradford said. "You have to remember, though, that

in that part of this world, an unmarried man is almost required to have

a mistress. If he's faithful to her--and everything I've heard says he

is, from the time he acknowledged her when he was Cardinal

McHenry--it's only a venial sin. As for her being hostile, what would

it prove if, say, Patrick James did a series? He's always been an

Enforcement supporter. But if you can turn Blackfeather into a

friend--even a neutral--she'd sway a lot of her followers. Even her

worst enemies can't argue her honesty; if she does change her opinion,

she'll say so."



"True," Cortin agreed. "She's done it before, two or three times that

I know of. All right, as soon as I decide on a good time, I'll send

her an invitation. And while we're on that subject--Dave, have you

asked Betty yet if she and the children want to move here?"



"No--until this morning, I didn't understand how you really felt."

Bain smiled. "I'll call her after Mass."



"Why wait?" Cortin returned the smile. "Call now, so we'll all know.

It's a good time to move--nice weather, and the children'll have time

to make friends before school starts. And if they do come, I'd like to

have them here when Blackfeather arrives--I have a feeling I'm going to

need the kind of atmosphere only children can create."



"Besides which," Bain said, "your secret's out, to us--you just plain

like children." He went to the phone, dialed, and moments later was

speaking to his sister-in-law. He explained the new family structure

and his part in the first one being formed, then went into the

advantages for the children even if she chose not to marry into the

group--then he grinned, giving the group around him the thumbs-up, and

began discussing logistic details.



"Good!" Cortin exclaimed. "Sis, Mike--we'll need a playground, and the

third floor set up for children, and--a nanny, do you think, or--"



"Next weekend be okay?" Bain interrupted to ask.



"The sooner the better," Cortin said. If they could move in that

quickly, it might not be a bad idea to invite that reporter for the

week around the Brothers' attack on the convent. If she'd never been

to a fresh raid scene, she could only have a rough, second-hand idea of

the suffering a raid caused. Seeing that might jar her enough to let

her really look at what Enforcement did, and why--including the

necessity for Inquisitors and the methods it took to stop the

terrorists. Cortin wasn't sure it would, but with Blackfeather's

reputation for honesty, it seemed to be worth the gamble. "If they'll

need help, fly out with whoever you need."



Bain spoke into the phone again, then hung up and turned to the rest.

"Two of us will be more than enough, she says. Who wants to be the

other?"



Pritchett raised his hand quickly. "I've always been good with kids."



"I would also like to go," Chang said.



Cortin shook her head. "Sorry, Sis. Even if you weren't pregnant,

it'd be too dangerous. I know you're no more worried about yourself

than any other Strike Team officer would be, but with you at the top of

the Brothers' wipe list, if they tried for you, the Bains would get

caught in the crossfire."



"I had not thought of that," Chang said. "I would not wish to endanger

others, of course. Dave and Tiny, then?"



"Right. On permissive TDY--and," she turned to the designated ones,

"with orders to call me if the Transportation Office gives you any

static about storing whatever she can't or doesn't want to bring along.

Not that that's likely, with both of you members of the King's Own."



"True." Bain grinned. "I kind of hope they do, though. You cannot

believe how much I'd like to see their faces if Her Excellency the

King's Inquisitor had to talk to them."



"Oh, I'd believe, all right," Cortin said. "I've had all the usual

experiences with them myself, which is why I'm kind of hoping you have

to call."



* * * * *



Prince Edward tapped on the King's half-open office door. "Good news,

Father."



The King looked up from the papers he was working on. "Come in and

close the door." When Edward had obeyed and seated himself, the King

asked, "How good?"



"Colonel Cortin's just turned Strike Team Azrael into a family, and

Lieutenant Chang is pregnant with Lieutenant Pritchett's son. I don't

know what the new family name will be, yet."



"That's excellent news," the King said, smiling widely. "I was hoping

she'd do something like that, and of course she'd take care of her own

people first. Let's see--Chang was waivered with undetermined

fertility, but Pritchett definitely tested sterile, so I think that can

safely be classed as a miracle. Most gratifying."



"You're not surprised?" Edward asked, a little disappointed.



"I had some information you didn't," the King said drily. "Remember at

the Sovereigns' Conference, Pope Anthony called Czar Nicholas and

myself to a private audience?"



"Yes, of course."



"His Holiness told us that he'd be murdered soon, and that we should

take that as evidence for the rest of what he had to say. He was, and

we did. I don't think I need to tell you what the 'rest' was."



"Not if it's that this is the time of the Final Coming," Edward said

cautiously.



"And that the Royal Inquisitor either Nicholas or I would choose would

be, without knowing it, the Protector. From what we know of Colonels

Cortin and Stepanov, she's the one. Is that true?"



Edward hesitated, trying to absorb the idea that Cortin's true identity

was known--or at least suspected--outside her immediate circle. On the

other hand, Pope Anthony had been holy in fact as well as title; it

shouldn't be that much of a surprise that God would lay the same sort

of groundwork, through him, that Shayan had undoubtedly laid for

himself. "Acting Protector, yes, until the real one manifests," Edward

said at last. "Ursula and I are Sealed to him through her, along with

all of Team Azrael, Colonel Bradford, and Major Illyanov. Captain

Odeon and Lieutenant Chang are her priests, as well." He paused, went

on. "She's worried about what you'll do with Pritchett and Chang now

that they're going to be parents. And what Pope Lucius will do about

the marriage."



"I'm certainly not going to take her people away from her," the King

said. "Team Azrael isn't subject to the conventional Strike Team

dangers, so I can justify exempting them from the sterility rules. The

dangers they--and you--will face are of an entirely different nature.

One no mortal, I'm afraid, can do anything to protect you against. As

for Pope Lucius acting against the marriage--" the King smiled, grimly.

"I'm sure he'll try, but considering the celebrant, I doubt very much

he'll get very far. 'Whom therefore God hath joined together, let no

man put asunder.' The marriage is valid under His--" He paused, with a

bemused expression, then went on, "or Her--Law. Though I admit it

would be helpful if it were also valid under some temporal laws as

well, which I'm working on. I don't suppose she's part of this family

she's just created?"



"Not yet--but Captain Odeon is working on a way to correct that."



"Very good. Let me know as soon as he does; if this is going to work,

she'll have to have heirs."



"Of course, Father. Uh . . . what about additional spouses for Ursula

and myself?"



"I'm working on that, too. God willing, arrangements will be complete

for you a new husband and wife by the time I activate the Strike Force,

and she'll perform the ceremony."