"Good enough." Cortin left, thinking it would be useful if she could help in the redirection. Mike, plus any of the other men on the team and any Inquisitors who were interested, could handle the positive aspects of Powell's reorientation, but it would be even better if a woman could provide negative reorientation. She was incapable in one way, Piety in another, and you couldn't ask a civilian--even a paid-woman--to take part in something like this. There might be a few female enlisted personnel willing to take part, but by the time one could be found and brought here, it would be well after the Strike Force teams had left. Too late, in other words; she'd just have to hope the reorientation worked without that. She scowled, angry at herself. If she'd realized, rather than just read, that even a simulation of sexual function could be this important, she'd have insisted on what little Dr. Egan had admitted to being able to do. Too late for that as well, now, though; she'd talk to Sis later, see what she could do when they had some time available. A synthetic vaginal passage shouldn't be more than minor surgery, well within a medic's abilities--and Sis would be able to understand why she wanted it, even knowing its limitations. * * * * * The Powell project proved even more popular with her team and the Inquisitors than Cortin had expected. And, after a night of considerable thought, she'd reluctantly decided that she couldn't direct it properly if she couldn't take part, so she'd turned direction of the project over to Illyanov, who'd promised to handle it as well as he could, as far as the subject was concerned acting under her instructions. She made it a point to spend some time in the observation center every morning, though, following Powell's progress. The redecoration she'd ordered was in place the first morning; the third-stage room of Interrogation Suite Delta now looked more like a courtesan's room at the New Eden. Most of the equipment was still in place, she knew, but the surgical table had been replaced by a wide bed, the floor now had thick rugs covering tile, and draperies hid drug and instrument cabinets, with others turning the harsh brilliance of overhead fluorescent lighting into soft pastels. Powell was still apprehensive despite the eroticine, looking as if he wanted to pull away when the Inquisitor with him began to caress him, but unable to resist the drug. Cortin disliked seeing a Brother display even the little enjoyment Powell did, despite the fact his pleasure was drug-enforced, but she was pleased that his tutor was obviously enjoying himself.