cking the cell door when Odeon arrived.

"Find a promising one?" he asked.

"I'd say so--one who wants to talk to me, at least." Cortin opened the
cell's door, beckoned its occupant out. "You remember our young
friend?"

"Of course! What's he doing here?"

"That's what he wants to talk about. Shall we go to my suite?"

"Just a second, please?" The young man was looking at her with
adoration so open it was almost embarrassing, and Cortin wondered where
that had come from. "I haven't seen Captain Odeon in ages . . ."

"I don't mind if he doesn't." Cortin watched them embrace, one hand
close to her pistol, but it seemed that all Powell wanted was a kiss.
At least that much of his conditioning held, she thought. When they
broke, she repeated, "Shall we go to my suite?"

This time they made it. Suite Alpha's office was simple, but
comfortably appointed, designed to give the subject a feeling of
relaxation and trust. Cortin took her place in a grouping of furniture
intended to help the subject feel more at ease that the normal
desk-centered version of first stage, and gestured the other two to
adjoining seats. "Now, Charles, what is it you don't think I'll
believe?"

"That--" The young man gulped, tried again. "That I . . . had to come
back. The Brothers . . . some of the older ones had me, the ways
Captain Odeon and the others helped me find out I liked, but it . . .
with them, it wasn't right, and I finally figured out that was because
Captain Odeon and the others also helped me realize the Brotherhood
itself was wrong. Especially to hate you, when you're the one who let
them help me." He gestured, helplessly. "So I had to go back to the
Center, and find you, and . . . offer to help you any way I could, in
return for the help you gave me."

Her truthsense told her he was being absolutely honest. "Did you tell
the Brothers how you felt?"

"No, ma'am--that didn't seem like a very good idea. I let troopers see
me, but they didn't do anything--maybe because you'd had me released.
Anyway, I didn't manage to get arrested until I hit one of them--and
then no one'd believe I'd done it to get arrested! And that's how I
ended up here."

So Mike and the Inquisitors had modified the conditioning she'd set up,
had they? Powell was supposed to be terrified of her, if not of
them--justifiably so, she admitted to herself--but he was grateful
instead, enough so that he'd risked his life to get back. He co