16a. Shayan
Shannon's stomach churned in sick disgust, and he found it hard to keep from vomiting. He'd known that she'd be given a dozen helpers roughly equivalent to his doubles, so he hadn't been surprised when she, as acting Protector, was helped to set her seal on the first two, or when they passed it along to others. He hadn't even needed to eavesdrop; that was such a potent use of power it was impossible for anyone with the slightest degree of sensitivity to miss.
So, unfortunately, was the revolting spectacle going on in Harmony Lodge. It was positively obscene! He'd done humanity a favor, letting it couple without real involvement being necessary; why couldn't the Adversary have left it at that until after the decision point?
It did have one advantage, he conceded grudgingly, an advantage he was astonished the Adversary would yield—though since this wasn't truly a conflict, perhaps the advantage was also illusory. When they were broadcasting those repulsive emotions to each other and at him, they were also broadcasting information—especially in the throes of unity. For the first time since he'd decided it was no longer safe to eavesdrop, he knew Cortin's thoughts and intentions—and knew them more thoroughly than if he'd managed to plant a spy in her private office.
Shannon sighed in relief as the broadcast stopped. He'd have to find some way to screen those emotions, without losing the information carried with them. Damn the weaknesses of human bodies! In one of his own forms, or able to use his powers, he wouldn't be affected so severely—if he were affected at all. The obvious way to avoid the worst of her excesses was to have sex himself, properly isolated from his partner's feelings; was there anyone here who could serve the purpose?
Too bad he'd had to leave Victor on St. Michael, but his aide was needed to deal with the Brothers there while he set up the Dmitrian operation that, if the crucial decision was made incorrectly, would trigger a Systems-wide conflict.
And Sara was too valuable to get involved in the conflict, even so marginally. Drugs, then—they were no more acceptable for his image, but they didn't require a partner, and he should have no trouble getting some from the pharmacy unobserved.
Damn, she was starting again! Degas this time, with Illyanov at her other breast eager for a chance at her—information or not, if she was going to keep this up, he had to find shielding! Worse, there was another couple starting at it, broadcasting less strongly but no less sickeningly—that unspeakable Piety and a big black she thought of as Tiny. Cursing in an effort to keep his mind clear, he hurriedly left his office to get the drugs he needed.