"You will not show them at all times, then?"
"No—I plan to wear gloves except when I'm on a hunt."
"Remove them also during an interrogation, I would suggest." Illyanov smiled, replacing the bandage. "You have not yet reached that point in your studies, so you cannot be expected to know the psychological impact, but such touches can appreciably increase your odds of success. Terror is often more persuasive than pain."
"I will, then. Thank you." But she'd still use the pain …
"The pleasure is mine." He stood, bowed again. "Until tomorrow, then?"
To see more of Shannon: [2a. Musing]
3. Center
Late July 2571
As Cortin recovered and the pain in her body eased to what Egan assured her was the best she could expect without further surgery, the burns on her hands took top priority, as she'd expected, on her list of personal grievances against the Brothers. Any trooper they—or most terrorist groups, for that matter—captured, was certain to be brutally beaten, and usually raped. Coming out alive was the best one could hope for, and she'd managed that. The experience would leave psychological as well as physical scars, she was certain, but like all officers and any enlisted personnel who wanted it, she'd gone through extensive training and conditioning of both types in case she were subjected to terrorist captivity and mistreatment, and she was confident the experience wouldn't have any lasting effect on her. Except, probably, the desire for revenge; that, she had no doubt, would last until she'd personally done justice on her attackers. Especially Brother Lawrence Shannon.