Revenge
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MAIN STORY
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The Alembic Plot
Thursday, 26 March 2572, New Denver
After Mass and breakfast, Odeon, Bain, and Blackfeather went to the
dungeon. There was no question, Blackfeather thought, of her giving up
her work as Cortin's historian, even though she'd joined Family
Illyanov during her unity with Ivan last evening; while both of them
regretted the separation, it would be only until Family Cortin and
Strike Force HQ moved to
rchangel--probably, Cortin and Illyanov
estimated, by late winter or early spring.
To give them time to do whatever Odeon intended to the Brother both of
them had claims on, Cortin went to her main-floor office and read the
morning New Denver Times, which had picked up Blackfeather's reports
and front-paged them, along with news of the Brothers' raid on the
convent and Enforcement's successful defense. The Times maintained its
reputation for strict reportorial impartiality; Cortin had to turn to
the editorial pages to find reaction rather than the facts she already
knew.
Not much to her surprise, the reaction was cautious. The editorial
writers acknowledged that Families probably would stop or reverse the
population decline, but were doubtful that they would be widely
accepted, even though the Pope, when approached, had said he could see
no objection. The creation of her Archduchy and her ennoblement were
acknowledged, along with the creation of Family Cortin, as probably
good for the new Archduchy and definitely good for the Family, an honor
the Inquisitor-Colonel had earned, though she sensed the writer was
relieved not to be in her fief. The Sealings weren't commented on at
all. On the other hand, praise for the convent defense was unstinting,
and Cortin was singled out for taking swift action to protect the
press-gang victims and find the hostages, with the writer expressing
the hope she would carry out equally swift justice on the captured
Brothers, particularly the one who had helped maim her. There was no
mention of revenge, but there was the implication the writer thought it
would be appropriate for her.
Cortin put the paper down, frowning. It was true that she had been
looking forward to her first chance at personal revenge ever since the
attack on her--but now that she had it, the opportunity didn't seem
anywhere near as attractive. There was no question but that the
Brother deserved the revenge she'd planned for him, and more; his
crimes undoubtedly deserved more punishment than she could possibly
inflict.
But punishment wasn't the problem with this one, any more than it had
been with any of her earlier subjects. It was the revenge part that
bothered her, though it certainly wasn't illegal--or sinful, for
Enforcement troops, since they were carrying out God's vengeance even
when it had a personal component. So why had the idea of taking her
revenge on this Brother suddenly lost its savor?
She mulled that over for some time before she was able to come to what
seemed like a reasonable hypothesis. The Father had claimed vengeance
as His own, but Jeshua had concentrated on mercy, even though some of
His priests had been fighters. The Protector emphasized love and
justice; possibly those who represented Him weren't supposed to indulge
in vengeance. She'd have to talk to Mike about that, find out if he'd
run into the same thing.
Maybe she could tell without talking, though, so she went down to Suite
Bravo's observation room--Suite Alpha held the Brother team-leader--and
joined Blackfeather. The reporter looked pale and had turned the
speaker off, but was managing to control herself; Cortin greeted her
with approval, then turned to watch Odeon.
Odeon's back was to her, so she couldn't see his expression. His
manner, though, was more professional than passionate, which supported
her hypothesis so far. The same went for Bain, who was holding the
prisoner, though that was less evidential; to the best of Cortin's
knowledge, he'd never expressed any desire for personal revenge against
the ones who'd maimed her. She'd only be sure of it regarding him if
they happened to capture one of the terrorists who'd tortured his
brother.
"If he was on one of Larry's personal teams, he won't be able to tell
you anything," Blackfeather said, interrupting Cortin's train of
thought. "Larry did something to them, and to all his doubles, so they
couldn't."
"Unfortunate, but not entirely unexpected," Cortin said. "Whatever I
think of him otherwise, I know he's not stupid; it stands to reason
that he'd give his closest associates the best protection he could.
Especially if it also protected him at the same time."
"What will you do to him, then? Turn him over to the courts? Or take
your revenge?"
Cortin looked at her sharply, but saw none of the disapproval the words
implied, only curiosity. "Neither. If I gave him to the courts, he
would simply be turned over to another Inquisitor for punishment and
execution--probably one who wouldn't give him the time or opportunity
to repent."
"Repent!" Blackfeather exclaimed, looking confused. "Joan, you can't
believe--"
"I'll try, but I don't expect him to take the opportunity." The
historian still looked uncertain, so Cortin continued. "He deserves
far more punishment than I can impose, but I no longer believe
anyone--even Shayan himself--deserves Hell for eternity. So I'll put
this one through as much as he can survive of the kind of torment he
gave his victims, though my methods will be different since I have both
skills and equipment he didn't--but I will also pray for him, and if he
repents, give him the Sacraments and allow him to finish his punishment
in Purgatory."
"You don't want revenge?"
"Not any more. I think vengeance is for those who can't accept
justice, and maybe for those who've been denied it. From the way I
feel, I'd say it's not for the Protector or His people--though Mike may
feel differently."
"He said about the same thing before he and Dave got started. At the
convent, he wanted revenge, but by this morning, he was past that
stage. And I think that frightened the Brother more than the revenge
did."
Cortin thought for a moment, then nodded. "It probably would me, too.
You can get to someone who's emotionally involved, if only to egg them
on and end it quicker; a professional doing a job doesn't have that
kind of handle."
"I can see that--" Blackfeather broke off as Odeon turned, rubbing his
knuckles, and switched the sound back on.
"Is Colonel Cortin with you, Sara?" he asked.
"I'm here, Captain," Cortin said. "You have the subject ready for me?"
"Yes, Excellency. How would you like him?"
Cortin hesitated before answering. She had intended to start by raping
and gelding this one, but since she now had to take Sara's history into
consideration, that no longer seemed appropriate. Although he'd
undoubtedly raped and maimed quite a few besides herself, making it
appropriate in that sense, the fact that he had done it to her would
give it the appearance of personal revenge rather than impersonal
punishment. Better to use techniques with less chance for
misinterpretation. "Standard position, I think. At least to begin
with."
"Our pleasure, Excellency." Odeon bowed slightly, then he and Bain
took care of securing the prisoner as she'd asked, and Bain left.
Cortin explained her change of plan and the reason to Blackfeather, and
got a nod. "I made the assumption you'd want to see at least one
session," she finished, "but if you'd rather it be later, that's up to
you."
"I don't want to, but I definitely should," Blackfeather said. "And I
suppose this is as good a time as any."
"Let's go, then." It wasn't until she was entering Bravo's third-stage
room that Cortin thought to ask, "Do you want me to describe what I'm
thinking as I work? Though I doubt it'll be suitable for publication."
"As I said earlier, even what I don't publish will be useful for
background--knowing your thought processes will be a big help."
"All right--but it'll mean leaving the speaker on. Want me to mute him
after I finish the preliminary, so you don't have to hear screams?"
"I-- Yes, please." Blackfeather managed a shaky grin. "I never
thought I was the squeamish type, but there's something about this kind
of violence that bothers me, even when I know it's necessary."
"That's normal," Cortin said. "Nothing to worry about, as long as you
don't get carried away, like some Terrans did, and worry more about the
criminal's pain than the victim's. Compassion is good, but you have to
remember who deserves that and who deserves punishment."
"I know--being squeamish doesn't mean I've gone soft in the head. I'd
rather not butcher my own meat, either, but I'm grateful to the ones
who do it."
"Fair enough." God willing, she thought, Sara would never get over
what she called squeamishness; humanity needed far more of that type
than it did Inquisitors, or even regular Enforcement troopers.
The prisoner spat as she approached him to begin her preliminary
evaluation. "Do your worst, Bitch--you'll get nothing from me!"
"So I have been informed, by a far more reliable source. I will be
asking you no questions." Wait, though. And think aloud, for Sara.
"Not immediately, at least. You have been protected against
conventional questioning, even an Inquisitor's--but that means only
that you cannot be forced to speak; it does not mean you cannot speak
if you choose. Preliminaries first, however."
Those went better than she had expected. Mike was developing a good
ability to anticipate the way she intended to work on a subject, and
had been careful selecting the areas to sensitize. When she finished
her evaluation, she went to her cabinets, studying their contents.
"I'm ready to silence him. Something that won't do more than minor
damage, preferably, which leaves out surgery . . . yes, this should
do." She removed a vial, filled a syringe, and returned to her
subject. "My observer prefers that you not scream, and since I can
tell from your reactions if you should wish to confess, I am free to
oblige. Paralyzing your throat muscles should serve the purpose
nicely."
To her surprise, he didn't fight the injection. "Do you expect him to
save you somehow?"
The man shook his head, sneering.
"To give you an easy death, then?"
He shrugged.
"You believe it possible, though he avoids me and did nothing to save
you from Captain Odeon's beating."
"On the other hand," Blackfeather said through the speaker, "he could
very well be using your punishment for his own ends. He told me once
that letting a failure die under an Inquisitor's questioning was a good
preliminary to what would happen once said failure died and arrived in
Hell."
The man stiffened, mouthing Blackfeather's name.
Cortin nodded. "I see he did not tell you he sent her to us. Miss
Blackfeather is now Sealed to the Protector, and a part of His team. I
cannot offer you either, but should you repent during this part of your
punishment, I will see that you die in a state of grace."
"Go to Hell, Bitch!" the man mouthed.
"Sara, were you able to read his lips?"
"No. What was it?"
"The usual; he wished me in Hell." Cortin's attention went back to her
subject. "That is not my destination. In an attempt to keep you from
going there, however, I will provide you the closest approximation I
can manage to its torments. You will die painfully here, and continue
to suffer afterward--but as long as you live, you have the chance to
reject Shayan, make your torment a brief prelude to Heaven."
* * * * *
After a couple of hours, Cortin could no longer ignore a niggling
feeling she'd had since entering the dungeon; she broke off her
interrogation, signaling Odeon and Blackfeather to join her in the
suite's office.
"You feel him too, huh?" Odeon asked, as soon as the door closed behind
him.
"I feel something like being watched, yes. It's not Sara, but she's
the only other person here--what 'he' are you talking about, and how
could he be watching anything?"
"Shayan," Odeon said flatly. "There's a different feel to his
mind-touch--I couldn't sense any menace from him--but after what he did
to me, I can't mistake his identity."
"Shayan!" Cortin and Blackfeather exclaimed in unison.
"But I didn't sense anything," Blackfeather continued. "I would've
thought any time he was around, physically or otherwise, I'd know it."
Odeon shrugged. "I can't say about that, Sara--all I know is what I've
just told you. He's watching us, for whatever reason, yet I feel very
strongly that he's not going to interfere." He rubbed the scar across
his mouth, frowning in puzzlement. "Impossible as it sounds, I get the
impression he intends to help us somehow. Not that he likes us--any
but Sara, anyway. The feeling's more like . . . it's vague, not based
on deliberate communication, but I'd call it something like a
determined, if reluctant, alliance."
Cortin frowned. "Are you sure?"
"It's vague, like I said, but I'm as sure as I can be under the
circumstances. I don't think it's possible to lie, mind to mind--could
be your truthsense is a special form of telepathy."
"Shayan helping us. That doesn't sound possible." Cortin paused,
still frowning. "I hate to ask, Mike, and I'll understand if you don't
want to--"
"But you'd like me to ask him directly." Odeon rubbed the back of his
neck, sighing. "Okay. Just don't be surprised if I go into another
funk." He turned his attention to the Hell-King. *You've been
listening; you know what I want.*
*You are quite correct about both the alliance and the reluctance,*
came the reply. *This, however, is not the time to go into that; the
discussion we need to have will take longer than Cortin should give her
prisoner to regroup. I am observing primarily so I will know when you
are free for that discussion; I will not continue it now. For the
moment, suffice it to say I will be pleased if her efforts to obtain
this one's repentance are successful, though I very much doubt that
will be the case.* With that, the direct contact broke, though Odeon
still sensed the observation.
"Are you okay, Mike?" Cortin asked anxiously. "You look pale."
"Yeah, just a little shaken. By what he said, not the contact itself
this time." Odeon repeated what he'd been told, seeing astonishment to
match his own on the women's faces.
"He'll be pleased if this one repents?" Cortin asked in disbelief.
"Uh-huh. And he doesn't want you giving him too much of a break."
"That doesn't sound like Larry, unless . . ." Blackfeather paused,
cocked her head. "He's got something to gain. Something that
outweighs all his other interests--so I'd recommend very strongly that
Your Excellency take his advice and return to your subject."
"Since it would seem what he has to gain coincides with our interests,
at least temporarily, that would seem to be the best, yes."
* * * * *
Cortin peeled off her coverall and went upstairs with the other two,
feeling a peculiar combination of satisfaction and disappointment. Her
subject had been punished as thoroughly as she could manage for nearly
ten hours--but he'd been as intransigent as Shayan had hinted, and he'd
died cursing the Protector.
That was a blow, though she'd known she couldn't possibly turn
all--maybe not even most--of her subjects to God. She'd tried her best
with this one, she reminded herself, and if she hadn't been able to
turn him, no one could have.
The odd part was that Shayan had wanted her to turn him, which she
still didn't understand. While most of her wanted to avoid any
possible contact with him, a small part was so curious about why he was
cooperating that she couldn't help wanting the discussion he'd
mentioned.