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.