The Alembic Plot: A Terran Empire novel

by Ann Wilson

13. Chuck

Nobody had thought to brief them on the welcoming ceremonies at the airport, but Bradford had mentioned her team acting as bodyguards, so when it was their turn to leave the plane, Odeon took point and the other four formed a square around Cortin. That might or might not have been the right thing to do, but it was effective; as a member of the King's Household, she got some press attention—as the High King's Inquisitor, surrounded by Special Operations officers, that attention was both brief and extremely respectful.

Once they got through that, Cortin and her team boarded a passenger van with "Harmony Lodge" emblazoned on the side for the brief trip to their new home. The Lodge was more impressive than Cortin had expected, though she'd gathered from Bradford that it was adequate for a larger team than hers. It was close to the Palace Compound, not a kilometer from the Palace itself, but the way it had been landscaped, it could have been far from anything: thick hedges and a formal garden made it a private place. The building itself was huge, and looked more like a medieval castle than the simple, probably rustic building she'd expected from something called a lodge. She wondered with some amusement if it had a dungeon; that was, after all, the classical place for interrogations in a castle.

The van dropped them off at the main door, then headed toward the rear of the building. As they approached, the door swung open to reveal an elderly man in black-and-scarlet livery, who bowed to them. "Welcome home, Colonel—gentles. I am Michael Brady, Your Excellency's butler and head of Harmony Lodge's staff." He gestured them inside. "May I show you around, or would you prefer to rest until supper?"

"Thank you, Mr. Brady," Cortin said. "I'd like to see the place, especially my work areas. My men may make their own choices."

Odeon and Chang chose to join her, the others decided to rest. Brady called servants to show them to their rooms, then said, "Your Excellency has not had servants before?"

"No … it shows?"

"It does. Servants are addressed and referred to by first name, not by an honorific and last name."

Cortin didn't like that; if she used first names with a person, she expected to be referred to that way herself. Still, she didn't like to defy custom in public, and while the servants might work for her, they weren't part of her team. She inclined her head in agreement. "As you say, then, Matthew. My apologies if I offended."

"No offense, Excellency. You wished to see your work area first?"

"Please—and brief me on the rest of the place as we go, if you would."

"Of course," Brady said. "If you will follow me?" He led them through a doorway to the left of the broad, sweeping entrance stairs. "The entertainment areas and public offices are here, on the main floor; living quarters are on the upper floors—private bedrooms and baths, common eating and recreational facilities, including an excellent library; and the work area is below ground. Servants' quarters are in a building behind this one."

"Sounds nice," Cortin said appreciatively. "I do have an honest-to-God dungeon, then?"

"Yes, Your Excellency."

"I'm new to Royal circles, Matthew—is it usual for members of His Majesty's Household to have households of their own?"

"No, Excellency." Brady paused, looking uncomfortable. "With all due respect to the Inquisitor-Colonel, she is the only one whose position makes it desirable. The rest live in the Palace itself."

Cortin had gotten used to an Inquisitor's normal isolation, but she hadn't expected it to be this extreme. It was fine with her, though; she'd rather have her own place. "I gather I won't be expected to do much entertaining or go to many parties, then."

"No, Excellency, though you will of course receive all the usual invitations. The only functions you will actually be expected to appear at will be ones hosted by His Majesty, and you are free to miss those if you are in the midst of an interrogation. He has instructed me to inform you that your work is to take priority over anything else, and that you are to contact him personally at any time if you believe you have obtained valuable information."

"I'm not to report to him, then?" Cortin was both relieved and a little disappointed at that.

"Not immediately, Excellency; as I said, your work is to take priority, and there are four prisoners in the holding cells awaiting the attentions of the High King's Inquisitor."

Cortin smiled, changing her plans for the evening's entertainment. "In that case, I'll pass on the rest of the tour for now. Captain Odeon, would you do me a favor?"

Odeon nodded, grinning. "Call Major Illyanov and tell him no guests tonight, right?"

"Right, then join me downstairs." She thought for a moment, then asked Brady, "What shape are they in?"

"Untouched, to the best of my knowledge, Excellency."

Four, and none softened up. Cortin nodded to herself, pleased, then asked, "What's the setup like down there? Colonel Bradford said one state-of-the-art suite, other conventional ones."

"Yes, Excellency. There are five complete interrogation suites, though only Suite Alpha—yours, of course—has the highly sophisticated equipment."

"Thank you." Cortin turned to Chang. "Lieutenant, would you ask Lieutenant Bain to join me after supper?" When she agreed, Cortin turned back to Brady. "Let's go."

Someone with a sense of humor she appreciated had posted signs in the prisoners' passage showing the way to the dungeon, and one over its door quoting the ancient poet Dante: "Abandon hope, all ye who enter here." They stopped there, and Bradford gave her a set of keys. "My responsibilities end at this door, Your Excellency. Enforcement Service personnel from the Detention Center are responsible for caring for the prisoners and cleaning up after you; the first is done at midday, and they are on call for the other. Now that you have assumed your duties, no one else will enter except by your order or with your permission."

"What about record films of the interrogations?"

"That is handled by the Palace security monitors, Excellency."

"Fine. What about spare keys?"

"There is a set for the Enforcement personnel I mentioned."

"We'll need three more, then. One each for Captain Odeon and Lieutenant Bain, and one for anyone else in the team."

"I will see to it. By Your Excellency's leave?"

"Granted."

The keys were marked; Cortin had no trouble finding the one for the main entrance, or for the cellblock. She'd wait for Mike before taking any of them to the suite, but she could make a preliminary evaluation and pick her first subject.

The block held twenty cells, four of them, as Brady had said, flagged as having occupants. She didn't get beyond the second one, though. Its occupant startled her at first—she hadn't thought of him since leaving New Denver months ago—then she chuckled and turned on the cell's speaker. "Powell—I would've thought you, of all people, would've avoided Enforcement troopers."

Startled, the young man stared at the one-way glass in the door. "Uh … Captain Cortin?"

"Colonel, now—but it's me, yes. What're you doing in custody again, much less at Harmony Lodge?"

Powell managed a tentative smile. "Congratulations, Colonel." Then it faded, and his shoulders slumped. "You won't believe me—they didn't, at the Center, so they sent me here for the High King's Inquisitor." To Cortin's astonishment, she saw the beginnings of hope in his face, and his eyes brightened. "That's not— You're not—?"

"It is, and I am."

"Oh, thank God! They said the King's Inquisitor would have truthsense—please, let me talk to you!"

Cortin hesitated. He certainly sounded sincere enough, but he'd been conditioned once; possibly he had been re-conditioned, this time to kill whoever turned out to be King's Inquisitor. On the other hand, that Brother had said Shannon had put her off limits, and Powell had submitted to her will once; he'd do so again easily. So she was unlocking the cell door when Odeon arrived.

"Find a promising one?" he asked.

"I'd say so—one who wants to talk to me, at least." Cortin opened the cell's door, beckoned its occupant out. "You remember our young friend?"

"Of course! What's he doing here?"

"That's what he wants to talk about. Shall we go to my suite?"

"Just a second, please?" The young man was looking at her with adoration so open it was almost embarrassing, and Cortin wondered where that had come from. "I haven't seen Captain Odeon in ages …"

"I don't mind if he doesn't." Cortin watched them embrace, one hand close to her pistol, but it seemed that all Powell wanted was a kiss. At least that much of his conditioning held, she thought. When they broke, she repeated, "Shall we go to my suite?"

This time they made it. Suite Alpha's office was simple, but comfortably appointed, designed to give the subject a feeling of relaxation and trust. Cortin took her place in a grouping of furniture intended to help the subject feel more at ease that the normal desk-centered version of first stage, and gestured the other two to adjoining seats. "Now, Charles, what is it you don't think I'll believe?"

"That—" The young man gulped, tried again. "That I … had to come back. The Brothers … some of the older ones had me, the ways Captain Odeon and the others helped me find out I liked, but it … with them, it wasn't right, and I finally figured out that was because Captain Odeon and the others also helped me realize the Brotherhood itself was wrong. Especially to hate you, when you're the one who let them help me." He gestured, helplessly. "So I had to go back to the Center, and find you, and … offer to help you any way I could, in return for the help you gave me."

Her truthsense told her he was being absolutely honest. "Did you tell the Brothers how you felt?"

"No, ma'am—that didn't seem like a very good idea. I let troopers see me, but they didn't do anything—maybe because you'd had me released. Anyway, I didn't manage to get arrested until I hit one of them—and then no one'd believe I'd done it to get arrested! And that's how I ended up here."

So Mike and the Inquisitors had modified the conditioning she'd set up, had they? Powell was supposed to be terrified of her, if not of them—justifiably so, she admitted to herself—but he was grateful instead, enough so that he'd risked his life to get back. He could easily have been shot for attacking a trooper, not simply gotten arrested. As it turned out, their modification should prove more useful than her simple revenge, so she couldn't get too upset with them—but she would definitely have to find out how it had been done! "That's good, then. What help do you think you can give me?"

"To start with, I overheard them planning a raid. I don't think it's the big one—nobody down at my level is supposed know anything about that, except that it's going to happen—but maybe it'll help? Even though I didn't hear much?"

Cortin leaned forward, not trying to hide her interest. "It will, Charles. Tell me about it."

Powell frowned. "It's supposed to be on the main convent of the Blue Sisters—you know the one, just south of Carthage Mountain?"

"I don't, but I can find someone who does. Go on."

"It's supposed to be on their main feast day—that'd be the Annunciation, the 25th. But they're afraid the Service'll find out somehow, so if you post troops—even watchers—they won't show."

Cortin scowled. The Blue Sisters—formally, the Order of Succor of the Compassionate Mother, Piety's order—were dedicated to caring for the seriously ill or wounded, especially Service troopers. So perhaps they were a natural target—and they definitely needed protection. "The most important part is keeping the Sisters and their patients safe, even if it means the Brothers escaping. I personally hope that can be done without alerting them, but—" she shrugged, "once I pass the information along, I'm out of it unless they pick up some prisoners. Do you know if one of the Shannons will be involved?"

"I'm afraid not—that I don't know, I mean. But I'd think one would; it's the kind the Raidmaster would want to lead, either in person or by proxy."

"Good enough; I'll report it as a possible, then." She smiled at the young man. "I'm afraid I'm not as good at this type of questioning as I should be, Charles; I'd like to call in a friend for it. Will you talk to him as well as you have been to me?"

"Of course, if that's what you want."

"Good." Cortin went to her desk and picked up the black phone, asked Brady to come escort a guest, then turned her attention back to Powell. "You've been a lot of help already, Charles, and I'm sure you'll be a lot more—but have you given any thought to what you'll do when you've given us all the information you have?"

The young man shrugged. "A little, but it depended on someone believing me. Like I said, I'd like to go to work for you, if I could."

Cortin nodded; she'd definitely be questioning Mike next! "Think about it some more, talk to my men—then if you're sure that's really what you want, I'll see what I can do. For now, go with Matthew; he should be at the main door shortly."

When Powell left, Cortin turned to Odeon. "All right, Mike, give! Last time I saw him, I revolted and terrified him—now he's like a puppy eager for my approval, and I swear he has a crush on you. Why and how?"

To her astonishment, Odeon looked abashed. "Uh … Ivan had an experimental drug he wanted to try, just to see how thorough a conditioning was possible and how much trouble it'd be. Well, you'd already set up a program for our young friend, so Ivan figured he might as well work on him. He outranks us—outranked you, then—so we went along."

Cortin nodded; they'd had no choice, and Ivan had been polite enough not to tell her he'd modified her intentions. "It looks like the conditioning was complete, all right—but how permanent?"

"Till he dies, Ivan says, or till he's put through the same type of conditioning again, which Ivan doesn't think is possible anywhere outside a Detention Center. So if you take him on, it'll be for good."

"I don't see that you left me any choice," Cortin said with resigned amusement. "Kicking him out with conditioning like that would be like … kicking a puppy, I suppose. Though I have no idea what I'll be able to do with him!" She paused, frowning. Joining the Brotherhood of Freedom, or any other terrorist group, meant automatic excommunication, and she didn't care to make her people associate with an excommunicate. "I don't suppose you also saw to his spiritual welfare, by any chance?"

"Of course we did, and not by chance," Odeon said. "Better than that, though we blocked the memory in case you turned him down. Uh—"

"Don't tell me," Cortin said, half-grinning. "You enlisted him and put him on the team."

"Close," Odeon said. "Commissioned him, since you wanted all officers. He doesn't meet the normal Strike Force criteria, but Colonel Bradford waivered them in his case. He's a good rider and a damn good marksman, but otherwise his main qualification is absolute dedication to his Team-Leader. I wouldn't call him a puppy, young as he is; I'd call him a guard dog. The cue to make him 'remember' he's been an agent of yours is you welcoming him to Team Azrael."

"I'll do that next time I see him." Cortin sighed. "Pritchett saying last night that he's in love with me, Powell conditioned into devotion—what next? No, don't answer that; I don't think I want to know." She paused, then changed the subject. "So Ivan's experiment was successful—but how useful will it be?"

"Practically, very little or none. It worked, yes, but the drug's expensive and scarce, and the procedures take too many people too long, to be worth using in normal circumstances. It may be done again, but it'll have to be a pretty special case."

"Too bad; I can see where it could've been useful." Cortin dismissed the subject with that, hesitated, then picked up the red phone that almost had to link her interrogation suite directly with the Palace. According to Brady, His Majesty wanted any significant results she got, as soon as she got them. The phone rang once, then a half-familiar voice said, "Yes, Colonel?"

It was a direct link, then. "His Majesty wanted immediate reports," Cortin said. "Are you authorized to take them?"

"Anyone who answers this phone is so authorized, Colonel. Go ahead; your report is being recorded."

"Good." Cortin gave a concise but complete report of what she'd gotten from Powell, pleased at the quick response. Too bad not everything in the Kingdom went this smoothly!

"Excellent," the voice said when she was done. "I had, of course, hoped for quick and substantial results from you, but this exceeds my expectations. Good work, Colonel."

Cortin swallowed hard, finally placing the half-familiar voice. Of course he was authorized to answer his own phone! "Th … thank you, Your Majesty. This was an easy one."

"Easy or not, it was effective. Keep up the good work, Colonel; we have to crush these terrorists, especially the Brothers of Freedom."

"Of course, Your Majesty—I'll do my best."

"I would expect no less, Colonel." The line went dead.

Cortin stared at the handpiece for several seconds before replacing it carefully in the cradle. It was hard to believe she'd just spoken to High King Mark—but she knew his voice, she had to believe. "I'll get you more, Sire," she said unneccessarily, then she stood. "Okay, Mike—I suppose we ought to get supper, then I'm going to start another subject." She grinned. "I really shouldn't say this, but even though he gave me some good information, Charles wasn't much fun, and I promised myself some entertainment tonight. If you and one of the others will help me set the next one up, I'll play with him awhile, then if he's being stubborn, we'll get serious in the morning."