This continues in the novel Resurrection
[Preparer's note: This is the end of the main story. The material following this note is the supplementary material linked to from elsewhere in this file.]
1a. Raid Master
St. Thomas, Wednesday, 19 June 2571
"The goddamned Bitch is still alive, Raidmaster."
Lawrence Shannon looked up from the shabby table he was using as a desk, smiling as one of his doubles threw a newspaper down in front of him. "Yes, excellent. Thank you, James."
"Excellent!" the double snarled. "I said she's alive!"
"You weren't mumbling," Shannon assured him. "If I'd wanted to kill her then, I would have. I chose to let her live for now, maimed and crippled; that will make it all the more satisfying when I do decide to kill her." He smiled in a way that made his double flinch. "Isn't it better to have her alive and in pain than dead and free of it? Doing something of the sort to her was my purpose in leading that raid, after all."
"But I thought—"
"Yes, I know." Shannon raised his hand, silencing the other. "For you Brothers, the hospital was the target; for me, Cortin was. We both accomplished our objectives, without casualties and with bonuses. I also warned you from the beginning not to question my motives. I use my powers on your behalf because our desires generally coincide and your help is convenient, not because you are necessary to me."
"You've made that clear often enough," the double admitted. "If I had your powers, though, I'd wipe out the Church, the aristocracy, and Enforcement so we could rebuild from scratch."
"Which is precisely what you would be doing." Shannon chuckled at the man's turn of phrase. "But there's a much more artistically satisfying way of accomplishing the same end—one which will also increase their suffering many-fold. Would you deny me that little pleasure?"
"Not me, Raidmaster!" the double exclaimed hurriedly, his face paling. Shannon was normally a charming man, polite and undeniably attractive, his blue eyes and wide smile almost irresistible—but the double had seen what happened to a Brother who cut short Shannon's enjoyment of a priest's slow death, and the memory still sickened him.
"Good." Shannon read his subordinate's discomfort, and projected encouragement. "You really must learn to control your sympathy for the oppressors, James. Our work is difficult enough without that."
The Raidmaster smiled again, and this time his double relaxed. "Damn straight! It just seems so slow!"
"Anything worthwhile does take time," Shannon said, "and you have to expect setbacks. The raid was a success, the whoring Bitch can't any more, and she bears the marks of those who brought her justice on her hands. Not a bad accomplishment, all in all, don't you think?"
"Not bad at all, Raidmaster. What's next?"
"I haven't decided," Shannon said thoughtfully. "Any raid will be far more hazardous now that Special Operations is going to be responding to all of them, and for at least a couple of months we can count on them being after revenge for the Bitch as well as doing their jobs. So we'll have to pick our targets carefully." He tapped one of the papers he'd been working on. "Until we get them out of our hair, we can't do anything constructive. And we haven't enough people or resources yet to strike their strong points, so while they're on an increased state of alert, it might be interesting to attack their recreational facilities."
The double smiled. "I like your thinking, Raidmaster. Such as the whorehouses they frequent?"
"Exactly," Shannon agreed. "Pass the word along to your colleagues, please. And I'd say you've had enough theoretical training; unless you need specific help, I'll expect you to plan and carry out your operations with as little inter-group communication as possible. Keep me informed, of course—but as far as others are concerned … well, what they don't know, an Inquisitor can't force them to tell."
The double grimaced. "True—but can't you protect us against them?"
Shannon smiled briefly. "It's more economical to use them. Anyone incompetent enough to get captured deserves their attentions, and it saves me the bother of reprimands. Maintain reasonable security, and you should have no serious problems."
"Yes, Raidmaster." The double would have expected Shannon to prefer handling his own punishments, but he did have a good point about making use of the Inquisitors. "If that's all, I'll go pass along your orders."
"Thanks, James." Shannon sketched the Brothers' sign in the air. "Revenge for the oppressed."
"And death to the oppressors." His double returned the gesture and left.
Shannon looked after him for a moment, then stood and went to look out the window. He was putting a good face on it, he thought, but in truth he'd like nothing better than to have Cortin dead and in Hell, or at least lying bloody at his feet.
But that wasn't to be. Not yet, at any rate, and perhaps never. She was as vital a part of this damnable charade as he himself, so he could neither kill her nor cause her death, at least until after her role was played out. He couldn't even use many of his powers against or around her until she realized and began using those that would be hers for a time. He could do anything short of those, however—and he smiled at the delicious memory of torturing her.
Although he'd known it would cause her relatively little distress—far less than a normal woman, and certainly far less than being branded with the marks he'd suggested to the Brotherhood—he had particularly enjoyed raping her. It would have been even better if she'd been a virgin, but given what she was being primed to accomplish—whether she realized it yet or not—and the fact that she was an Enforcement trooper, he'd known better than to even hope for that. Still, it was the rape she'd get support and treatment for, when the marks were the real violation; he could take comfort in that.
He cursed the fate that was making him fight to preserve the prewar morality. It served his purposes, true, but having to live by it himself—having to set a God-loving example!—was going much too far. Celibacy was definitely not his style. At least his favorite sado-sexual activity was expected behavior from terrorists, even those calling themselves freedom fighters—but it was so hellishly long between opportunities, and when they did arrive, he usually had to restrain himself!
The Brotherhood of Freedom had, after all, started out as the champions of freedom, family and justice they still claimed to be. To lead it, he had had to seem the most conservative of them all—and much as it went against his personal inclinations, he reminded himself yet again that it did serve his purposes. The Adversary's as well, unfortunately, but the Adversary was willing to tolerate his existence; those who were going to invade this universe could and would destroy him as easily as any human. So he had no choice but to cooperate. He'd be living with these attitudes for some time yet, so he really should learn to tolerate them, at least in others.
That thought made him smile. In others, yes, as long as it was he who controlled their behavior—and really, he should only have to live by those old standards himself for a brief time. There was ample precedent for a charismatic leader like himself to be free of the constraints that bound his followers—and to be so with their full knowledge and consent, because of his "special needs and burdens". It wouldn't hurt, either, that they were already accustomed to the idea of special dispensations, such as the one Cortin had enjoyed until he took the ability away from her.
Cortin! Shannon fumed at that name. Maimed and crippled as he'd left her, he had no illusions that she was harmless. Not that she could be and still fulfill her role, he conceded grudgingly, and the other two currently alive would be worse yet, never mind the one who would be returning from his tomb. But they were all necessary to his continued existence, even though they would seriously reduce his influence. The living one yet to arrive in the Systems would provide no entertainment, but much of Cortin's and the other's development involved considerable stress and pain, for them and those around them—which he could and would enjoy.
Return to main storyline: [2. Hospital]
2a. Musing
St. Thomas, June 2571
Within five days of Cortin's arrival at the New Denver hospital, Shannon had managed to get three Brothers working there, with orders to keep him informed of anything and everything she did. His agents' first report, the following day, told him that Cortin was under constant guard by a minimum of two troopers, and usually had Captain Michael Odeon with her during the day.
As the report continued he frowned, wondering if he shouldn't laugh instead. Odeon had brought her texts for the Academy's Inquisitor-specialist students, and that evening the course's ace instructor had spent several hours with her. Cortin, studying to become an Inquisitor? Not only didn't it seem her style, he wouldn't have thought her capable of the toughness or the deliberate violence it required.
He could be wrong, he acknowledged—he'd been wrong before, about her and other humans too—but it seemed impossible he could be that far wrong. In his harshest moment, he couldn't truthfully call her exactly soft … but on the other hand, he'd never respected her for her resolve. He'd be astonished if she turned out to have the necessary toughness now—but if she did, he certainly wouldn't hesitate to make use of it. Because if she were able to pass muster as an Inquisitor at all, the Bitch would be the Systems' best—a suitable punishment for any of his men who managed a particularly bad foulup.
As reports continued to come in, it became clear that she was not only excelling in her studies—Illyanov's evaluations said she was doing quite well, which for him was extravagant praise—she was apparently enjoying them, which Shannon found almost impossible to believe. This was only the theoretical work, though, he reminded himself. While he conceded that she could endure considerable pain, the question was whether she could deliberately administer it.
And that answer would have to wait. In the meantime, he had a campaign to plan.
Cortin was recovering faster than Shannon liked. That she was recovering at all, of course, was unfortunate—but given that, he couldn't honestly be surprised at the speed of her recovery. It looked like her return to duty would be about the time that collection of Special Ops men—and the woman auxiliary who'd once been his "lover"—was complete. He was concerned about that; the necessary limitation of his powers made him dependent on normal systems of information, and security around the gathering was unusually tight. Since there were similar gatherings in every Kingdom, it was obvious the Sovereigns were planning something that promised no good for the Brotherhood and his plans, but he couldn't find out what without taking a risk of alerting Cortin.
Since there was nothing constructive he could do about that, he let himself reminisce about the auxiliary. Eleanor Chang, since age eighteen a professed Sister of the Order of the Compassionate Mother of Succor and known as Sister Mary Piety. Shannon had a particular dislike for that order, since they specialized in caring for seriously wounded or ill Enforcement troopers, sometimes accompanying them as medics.
That was Sister Piety's specialty, and she'd been handling one of its more difficult aspects when he'd encountered her almost a year ago. He'd been on St. Ignatius then, picking and training some of his subordinate raid-masters, and he'd given in to the urge for some recreation. That had taken the form of a raid on the clinic where she'd just brought a trio of wounded from her last mission, and it was a raid he remembered with considerable satisfaction.
The clinic was in the country, to let the troopers recover or die in the most pleasant surroundings the Order could manage—and it was remote enough that Shannon and his raiders could take their time, with troopers and nuns alike. Piety caught his attention immediately, being the youngest and most attractive of the women as well as the most spirited, and he promptly claimed her for himself. His subordinates were welcome to the rest.
To his satisfaction, she fought him. Not with any skill, but with enough energy and determination to excite him as no woman had in far too long. Stripped of her habit, she was even more attractive—and better yet, she continued to fight, even as he pinned her arms and forced her legs apart. Starting into her, he felt resistance that told him his hopes of her had been fulfilled. He paused, relishing that for some moments while he made certain adjustments to his body. He respected courage, even in an enemy; add that she'd managed to remain a virgin, surrounded by Enforcement troopers, and he was inclined to give her a fair chance. Like the pre-Empire Terran game show, if she said the magic word, she would win—not money, but her life. And her fighting had bought her a clue to that word.
Her eyes widened as she felt the change. She struggled harder, shaking her head and gasping negation, but her sudden panic was no match for his strength. He rammed into her all the way, savoring the hot blood that flowed out of her when he ruptured the membrane.
She screamed his name, winning her life—though Shannon took pleasure in the certainty that she'd rather die. She shivered under him, her screams gradually subsiding to sobs, until she was close to passing out with pain and horror. Shannon could have kept her conscious, but he'd be having her again later, and there were the troopers to play with; he finished in a series of rapid, violent thrusts, then kissed her roughly and pulled out.
"One more before we go, sweet Piety." Shannon's voice was almost gentle; over the last six days, he'd developed an unusual—and, he thought, delightfully perverse—fondness for the nun. It was nothing like his feelings for Sara, his mistress; those were totally unprecedented, not simply unusual. He couldn't pinpoint the reason he had taken to Piety, though it probably had something to do with the fact that she managed not to hate him. Fear, disgust, revulsion—he could read all of those and more, even pity. But there was no hatred.
"Please," she said tiredly. "Not again …"
"One last time, then we will part." It was unfortunate that she no longer fought him physically, but he'd learned to get the same excitement from her emotional upheavals; when he picked her up and they began to boil, he came to his full size almost immediately. "I'm afraid there won't be a show to entertain us this time, though. Your former companions and patients are beyond even my power to revive." Not precisely true—it was more accurate to say he no longer thought them worth the effort—but it was close enough for her. "Still, the act itself should be entertaining enough."
He put her on the floor, and was starting to mount her when an intriguing idea occurred to him. He smiled slowly and stood, picking her up again, and carried her outside to a sweet-smelling grassy area surrounded by peonies. He put her down again and this time lay beside her, gently caressing, using his powers to soothe her.
There was still fear when she stared at him. "What … what are you doing?"
"Making sure, sweet Piety, that this time it's you who enjoys me." Yes, that revolted her very nicely. He stilled her beginning objection with a long kiss, then smiled down at her, continuing both his physical caresses and mental pressure. "I've kept you sane," he said softly. "The refuge of insanity is one you can never take, now, and there's no point in hoping I can't do something else equally simple. You will remember this week clearly, and today will be by far the worst. Because you are going to enjoy me, in the full knowledge that I'm compelling your pleasure as thoroughly, if not in the same way, as I compelled your pain and the others'." He smiled, running a hand down her belly to tease thick curls. "I'm sure you've heard I can be a skillful lover when I want, not so?"
"Yes." His compulsion was working; he could sense her starting to relax.
"Good. I had planned to leave in a few minutes, but a proper demonstration takes time; you'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"I … think so."
"You will, believe me."
She did, though it wasn't as easy as he'd told her or expected it would be. He'd felt her mental strength, but her tenacity and resilience still surprised him, finding any gap in the net of compulsion he imposed, which made it nearly half an hour, instead of a few minutes, before he was able to make her feel the pleasure he wanted. He paused then, thinking. While he respected her courage, her unexpected resistance at this late hour had irritated him, and he wanted to take it out on her. So should he make her cooperate with him, rather than simply remain passive and enjoy whatever attentions he chose to give her?
He smiled slowly. Yes, that would certainly add spice, and it would make her memories all the more painful. With the groundwork laid, that took only a few moments, and she was eagerly returning his caresses.
He took his time with her, knowing that the thoroughness of her enjoyment now would determine how much she suffered later. He'd told her there would only be one more act of intercourse, so that was what it would be. He'd said nothing, however, about details, so he played with her, teasing her with repeated small orgasms by mouth and hand, letting her know silently that these were only preludes. He felt—and helped—her desire grow with each one, building into desperate need, until she was writhing against him, begging and frantically struggling to get him into her.
It was a temptation to reject her at this last moment, but he resisted in the interest of future pleasure. He obliged her, giving her the tremendous orgasm he'd teased her with—starting with his entry, prolonging it through a coitus that would seem to her like hours, and peaking it when his own climax sent jets of icy fire into her.
He left her body first, smiling down at her. "You liked that, didn't you, sweet Piety?"
The nun sighed happily. "You know I did … does that really have to be the last time?"
"I'm afraid so." Shannon rose, still smiling. "I've enjoyed you a lot, but I have to get back to work, and it's time for you to report our little party to the nearest Enforcement post. You can tell them everything except my name and how you knew me; all they need to know on that subject is that I'm the Raidmaster. Not just a raidmaster, the Raidmaster. You'll be sure to point that out for me, won't you?"
"Of course."
"Very good." Shannon double-checked the barriers he'd raised to keep her from the refuge of insanity, then he released his other compulsions. She reacted beautifully, her expression turning from pleasure to revulsion as she retreated from him, turning to run but falling to her knees racked with convulsions of nausea.
Shannon's attention returned to his surroundings. He'd left St. Ignatius then, thoroughly satisfied with the interlude, and memories of Sister Piety had cheered him several times since. It was an interlude he dared not repeat now, though. Cortin might sense something as simple as using his power to modify his physical attributes, and now that she was personally aware of him thanks to the attack, she'd have to sense his use of it on others.
Return to main storyline: [3. Center]