"The latter I can do nothing about," Chang conceded. "The first, however, I am less sure of. With all respect to the good Dr. Egan, I doubt she follows the doings of Inquisitors on St. Ignatius, while I have heard rumors that one has had some success in regrowing removed organs, with restoration of full function." She raised a cautioning hand. "I believe that to be an exaggeration--such regrowth would, I believe, require a saint rather than an Inquisitor or medic--but there is a grain of fact behind any rumor. I would be most happy to investigate, and, if his actual results warrant, apply his findings to your problem." Cortin took a deep breath, held it, and exhaled slowly. Getting her hopes up, on the basis of some fact that might lie behind a rumor, was stupid. She knew that, she'd resigned herself to her loss--but apparently not as well as she'd thought, because she found she was hoping. Regrowth and restoration of full function would mean the chance, again, of children--though honesty compelled her to admit that her failure to become pregnant in years of more than adequate opportunity meant the chance was vanishingly small. Even the chance of restored sensation would be worth a lot, though! "Please do, Lieutenant. Let me know the results as soon as you have something definite, then we'll base what we do on that." Chang inclined her head respectfully. "I shall begin at once, Captain." She left, and Cortin went on to her next subject. Powell was released the Saturday before the Strike Force's Monday reassignments, in an area known to be infested with terrorist sympathizers. He was provided with fresh clothing, a month's supply of eroticine, an authorization to get more from any medical supply center he happened to be near--which she didn't expect him to need or use--and a brief message that "The Bitch" was most definitely alive, and was deeply interested in the Brothers' welfare. 6. Tony St. Thomas, August 2571-February 2572 During the first week after Team Azrael reported to Middletown, Cortin got her men assigned quarters and the personal vehicles they were authorized, then made arrangements for them to have unlimited access to the Elysian Gardens, the city's most exclusive--and equally expensive--joy-house. The proprietor was reluctant--her ladies were accustomed to New Pennsylvania's nobles and gentry, not common troopers--until Cortin, with considerable hidden amusement, paid generously in advance, and promised bonuses if her men were pleased. She also offered the Base Commander her services as priest and Inquisitor. He preferred to retain the base's civilian chaplain, but did accept her other offer, promising her all the work she could want. With that done, Cortin discovered that time went by very slowly when you were part of a group that had to conceal its mission, yet remain independent and assert special privileges.