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?"