Mike Odeon's First Mass

: EXTRAS

Odeon smiled as he entered the Detention Center chapel's small sacristy

to prepare for his First Mass. He'd gone to Mass every day it was

physically possible since childhood, made Spiritual Communion

otherwise, and he'd thought himself long since resigned to not being

the celebrant. That resignation, he realized now, had been only

superficial; the anticipation he felt as he took out the stole Bradford

had given
him made it clear he'd never really given up hope of actually

going to the altar.



He studied the stole, glanced from it to the vestments hanging up, and

smiled again. He'd like to wear those, but it didn't seem too likely

he would; except in very unusual circumstances, Bradford had told him,

a Strike Force priest would remain in uniform, his only vestment the

stole. Odeon kissed the piece of cloth, then murmured the proper

vesting prayer as he put it around his neck.



The congregation and a server were waiting when he entered the main

part of the chapel, so he contented himself with a brief introduction

to the latter before turning to the altar. Since he hadn't had any

formal liturgical training, he was a bit apprehensive about how well

he'd be able to perform the ceremony, but his apprehension vanished as

soon as he blessed himself for the opening prayers. He was filled with

a sense of rightness and certainty, feeling himself absorbed in an

awesome Presence that would give him flawless guidance. He gave a

silent prayer of thanks, then lost himself in the glorious joy he'd

always imagined saying Mass would be. Joy became exaltation at the

Consecration, lasting until he finished giving Communion, then

returning to the lesser joy until he finished the final prayers.



When he returned to the sacristy and removed his stole, it was with

another prayer of thanks. That sort of direct guidance wasn't normal,

he knew, and he had no idea why an undistinguished Enforcement Service

officer would be granted such an exceptional--and marvelous!--grace,

but he certainly wasn't going to reject it. He also wasn't going to

bring the subject up, he decided. He wouldn't lie about it, of course,

if anyone noticed and asked, but he didn't care to make any claims that

might get him investigated by Church authorities. It wasn't that he

had anything to hide; he'd committed few sins beyond the chronic mild

profanity he couldn't seem to break himself of, despite his

intentions--and he'd confessed those and gotten absolution, especially

before saying Mass. He was definitely no saint, though, and with

Cardinal McHenry in charge of investigating miracle claims, he'd just

as soon avoid even a suspicion of claiming anything unusual.





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