t to Graduation in case you did show up."

"My toothbrush is yours," Odeon said with a chuckle. "It sounds like
you're anxious to get this siege started."

"I've been taught that unnecessary delay is bad strategy," Cortin said.
"Shall we go, Lieutenant, or should I begin my siege here?"

"We go, Lieutenant," Odeon said, and they did.

When they got to his room, they didn't hurry, but they didn't waste
time, either; once their uniforms were hung in the closet, Joan's siege
began in earnest, and with her target's full cooperation. Lying beside
him, kissing him, caressing his body with the battle scars few
Enforcement and no SO men escaped, feeling his answering caresses on
her still-smooth skin, was even better than she'd dreamed.

Exploration grew into passion, caresses becoming more direct and
intimate, yet there was still no hurry. Cortin savored the touch of
his hand skillfully stroking her, the silk-over-steel delight of him as
ready for her as she was for him. It was she who moved first, eager to
take him in, and she gasped with pleasure as they joined and began
moving in the eternal rhythm.

Then pain stabbed through her, bringing her awake with a choked sob.
As it slowly subsided, she became aware of arms around her, a voice in
her ear, and she tried to tear herself away.

Odeon wouldn't let her. "It's me, Joanie, Mike--not some Brother.
You're safe. You know I won't hurt you--and I'll do my best not to let
anyone else hurt you, either. Relax, try to go back to sleep. Want
your gun?"

"I've got it under my pillow." Cortin managed a half-smile. "The
sovereign remedy for boogey-men, my father used to say. A 10-mm Ruger
with every fifth round a tracer load."

"Smart man, your father," Odeon said. "Not much human-size a 10-mm
load won't stop, and tracers'll discourage the rest. Think you can
sleep now?"

"Yes, I think so." Cortin sighed, relaxing slowly. "Thanks, Mike.
For being here, and for . . . you know. Make sure I wake up in time
for Mass, will you?"

"No problem," Odeon said. "Sleep in peace, Joanie."

* * * * *

Tuesday, 23 July 2571

The Mass had more of an effect on Cortin than she had expected it
to--more than it ever had, even when she was in a mood for religion.
For some reason it seemed more meaningful, more immediate, than it had
before. Maybe it was the pain that made her empathize with the
tortured image on the cross, maybe it was somethin