The Alembic Plot Part 68

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 Ma.s.s. 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.

Return to main storyline: 5. Azrael

16a. Shayan

Shannon's stomach churned in sick disgust, and he found it hard to keep from vomiting. He'd known that she'd be given a dozen helpers roughly equivalent to his doubles, so he hadn't been surprised when she, as acting Protector, was helped to set her seal on the first two, or when they pa.s.sed it along to others. He hadn't even needed to eavesdrop; that was such a potent use of power it was impossible for anyone with the slightest degree of sensitivity to miss.

So, unfortunately, was the revolting spectacle going on in Harmony Lodge. It was positively obscene! He'd done humanity a favor, letting it couple without real involvement being necessary; why couldn't the Adversary have left it at that until after the decision point?

It did have one advantage, he conceded grudgingly, an advantage he was astonished the Adversary would yield--though since this wasn't truly a conflict, perhaps the advantage was also illusory. When they were broadcasting those repulsive emotions to each other and at him, they were also broadcasting information--especially in the throes of unity.

For the first time since he'd decided it was no longer safe to eavesdrop, he knew Cortin's thoughts and intentions--and knew them more thoroughly than if he'd managed to plant a spy in her private office.

Shannon sighed in relief as the broadcast stopped. He'd have to find some way to screen those emotions, without losing the information carried with them. d.a.m.n the weaknesses of human bodies! In one of his own forms, or able to use his powers, he wouldn't be affected so severely--if he were affected at all. The obvious way to avoid the worst of her excesses was to have s.e.x himself, properly isolated from his partner's feelings; was there anyone here who could serve the purpose?

Too bad he'd had to leave Victor on St. Michael, but his aide was needed to deal with the Brothers there while he set up the Dmitrian operation that, if the crucial decision was made incorrectly, would trigger a Systems-wide conflict.

And Sara was too valuable to get involved in the conflict, even so marginally. Drugs, then--they were no more acceptable for his image, but they didn't require a partner, and he should have no trouble getting some from the pharmacy un.o.bserved.

d.a.m.n, she was starting again! Degas this time, with Illyanov at her other breast eager for a chance at her--information or not, if she was going to keep this up, he had to find s.h.i.+elding! Worse, there was another couple starting at it, broadcasting less strongly but no less sickeningly--that unspeakable Piety and a big black she thought of as Tiny. Cursing in an effort to keep his mind clear, he hurriedly left his office to get the drugs he needed.

Return to main storyline: 17. Family

20a. Decision

Monday, 16 March 2572

Shannon had sent Blackfeather home to get ready for her trip, and was distracting himself from her loss by studying. He hadn't wasted his time in Odeon's mind; besides teaching the priest how to remove the compulsions he'd put Sara under--and, more pleasantly, just how much agony a human could be subjected to with the proper support--he had extracted considerable information.

Most of it was useless, though some was mildly interesting; it was Cortin's fears that intrigued him. She was primarily afraid of the confrontation--decision point, actually, which concerned him as well, though for different reasons--but there was fear for her people, for the Church, and of what he would do about the Families.

Shayan sighed, feeling all too human in his frustration. He had enjoyed Odeon's pain, no question about that, but the tempering did mean the confrontation both he and Cortin dreaded was less than half a year away.

Which meant he had his own choice to make, right now. Just how badly did he want to live?

There was no guarantee he would, of course, even if Odeon made the correct choice; there was no guarantee any life at all in this universe would survive the invasion that was to come. It had been easy enough, four centuries ago, to promise cooperation--but he'd had private reservations, cooperating on the surface while continuing to pursue his own goals and pleasures.

Now, though, with the decision point so close and the invasion to follow shortly afterward, that no longer seemed adequate. To improve his odds, he'd have to go further. As much as the idea galled him, he'd have to put aside his own agenda until things returned to normal after the invasion--if they did--and cooperate to the best of his ability.

That would be tremendously difficult. Even his grudged cooperation hadn't been easy . . . He took a deep breath, sighed again. Life was more important than the pride that had been his downfall; he'd do what was necessary to preserve that life now, and worry about pride later.

If Odeon made the correct decision and the invasion resulted in war rather than simple ma.s.sacre, faith and wors.h.i.+p would be far more important weapons than s.h.i.+ps and disruptors; he'd have to begin actively promoting both, even though he didn't share either.

He took time to grimace at that repulsive thought, then he settled down to work with the information he'd gotten from Odeon. What should his--and the Church's--official position be? Positions, rather, with this Communion of Promise Cortin had inst.i.tuted at Odeon's urging.

That, unlike the Sealing he couldn't officially know about, was both public and taking place in church, though not--quite--as part of the Ma.s.s.

He would be expected to condemn both that and the Families, as Cortin antic.i.p.ated--but should he? It was a delicate question, since his first priority had to be doing what little more he could to prepare Odeon for his critical choice, working through and around Cortin while awaiting the Protector-to-be's arrival. Then came the propagation of faith and wors.h.i.+p.

He smiled slowly. He might be able to derive some amus.e.m.e.nt, if not pleasure, from this full cooperation after all, if he did it properly.

He'd never been accused of moderation, for excellent reason, and saw no reason to change that particular aspect of himself.

Back Cortin and her team--now become a Family--to the hilt, then. That would serve both his modified purposes, with the side benefit of confusing the Sealed ones, who knew his ident.i.ty, no end. Since the only thing he could know about by normal means right now was the Communion of Promise, and he wanted to make the greatest impact he could on the Sealed ones, he'd simply announce he was studying the prophecies and would issue a decision later; conditionally, he'd allow them to continue.

As for the Families and Strike Force, he could undoubtedly trust Sara to publicize them as soon as she was permitted to, probably after the convent raid. That would be good timing, since the raid's aftermath would provide Odeon and, incidentally, Cortin, the last of his pre-decision lessons. He'd contact them after Sara's stories were published, invite the Protector's Herald and acting Protector to concelebrate Ma.s.s--though since he was now helping her, perhaps he shouldn't mention the Protector role. Nor would he have to be concerned about her powers any longer, since her truthsense would a.s.sure her he was no longer--for now, at any rate--a threat.

And what about the Brotherhood? It had served him well, his doubles and Victor in particular, increasing the population of his realm quite nicely. That, however, was no longer his objective--worked against the faith-and-wors.h.i.+p weapon system, in fact. He'd have to order it disbanded, urge the members to repent their sins and return to the Church and sacraments. They'd still have to pay the worldly penalty for their crimes, but as long as they ended up in Purgatory rather than h.e.l.l, they could still contribute. Again, not until after the convent raid, and he'd have to work through one of his doubles.

Unfortunately, he'd also have to change his plans for the Imperials once that crucial contact was made. It would have been pleasant to torment them, make them special targets--but that would be counterproductive.

Ah, well, life over pride, he reminded himself. And he'd wasted enough time; he had an audience to conduct, then he should see what he could do about special devotions that large numbers of people would find attractive.

Return to main storyline: 21. Anguish

23a. Waiting

Thursday, 26 March 2572 (Morning, New Rome)

Shayan smiled as he read the New Roman Times while eating breakfast.

Sara had done excellently; these stories gave him all the details he needed to take action. The Strike Forces, the Sealing, Cortin the Herald and acting Protector being hailed as Protector despite her own disbelief in the role, a liturgist working on services to her--she undoubtedly hated that--yes, there was plenty revealed openly now for him to take action on. Not just yet, though; his announcements would have more impact if he made them with the Herald's knowledge and approval, perhaps even in her presence.

It was too early, in New Denver, for her to even be awake, and Odeon had to learn one thing yet today, so he shouldn't make contact until they were done for the day. Since he'd decided on full cooperation, he no longer needed to fear waking her powers prematurely; that would take her perceiving a threat, and he no longer provided even a minimal one.

So he would be able to observe, then phone her when she had her prisoner settled for the night.

Or should he mind-call her, thus giving her the limited telepathy three in her Family already had? Since it would also let him sense her feelings at his unexpected support, that was an attractive thought. He had a couple of hours yet before she woke, then several more until she called it a day, and he had work of his own to do; he'd decide what method to use when the time came.

Return to main storyline: 24. Revenge

27a. At Harmony Lodge

The next three weeks went by both too quickly and too slowly for Cortin's taste. It took the Imperials only a couple of days to find a plague vaccine, but they were unable to find a cure; according to their medical people, it caused permanent physical changes. That was fine with Cortin. She'd put a lot of time and effort working for the social changes the plague had made necessary; she had no particular desire to have that work wasted, and she wanted even less for her Family and herself to go back to their pre-plague selves.

To Cortin's amus.e.m.e.nt, when Conley was introduced to the rest of the Family she developed an almost instant crush on Tony Degas, the most cla.s.sically handsome of the Family men. That, since Degas enjoyed the attention, kept them both busy while Cortin was working, and often afterward.

There were only two untoward incidents during the three weeks before Medart's arrival. The first was the arrival of a prisoner for execution, which wasn't at all unusual in itself--but the interrogation report she got with him didn't feel right, and the prisoner had been muted, which, with the other, could mean someone didn't want her questioning him. She didn't normally do that with execution subjects--they'd been questioned and sentenced before coming to her--but she decided to delay executing this one until Medart arrived.

Mike said the Empire had something called a mind-probe, and thought it likely a battle cruiser would have one, unlike a scout; with that, she should be able to question the prisoner and get responsive answers.