Star Wars_ I, Jedi - Michael A. Stackpole [175]
I’d not have been Tavira’s consort, she would have been mine.
I hissed, more at that realization than the sting of the unguent Elegos applied to my hands. I would have been a terror, a Garm bel Iblis, carrying on my own war with the Empire, but without bel Iblis’s nobility to guide my hand. The whole of the galaxy would have been arrayed against me and I would have destroyed them all.
I would have become what Exar Kun offered to make me.
“No!”
Elegos smiled. “The dressing will help the healing, Master.”
“Not that.” I frowned. “And don’t call me Master. Jenos will work; Captain if you want to be formal.”
“Very well, Captain.” Elegos elevated my right hand and started to wrap it in steriplast.
I sighed and let him work. I knew I had been jealous of Remart, and I beat him in a manner such that I destroyed his physical appeal. As nearly as I could sort out, Tavira had been right—I beat him to spoil her fun and punish her for choosing him over me.
Even accepting that, I knew I’d not let Remart live just so she would kill him. I had not expected that to happen. She was morally bankrupt enough to transform mercy on my part into lethal trickery. I knew others would believe as she did—Caet and Timmser, who probably knew me better than anyone else in the Invids, would clearly accept my being that devious.
But I didn’t do that. I couldn’t. I frowned. Could I?
I shivered again and felt an icy viper wriggle through my guts. I could have, definitely. I clung to the fact that I knew I hadn’t.
But now I had a new dilemma to face. Tavira had given me a month to decide if I would become her consort. I would be taken aboard the Invidious. I would become part of the crew. I would have her confidence. I would be able to learn all of the Invid secrets, and I would even learn where Mirax was held. I would have everything I wanted—my wife back and the means to destroy the Invids.
In other undercover operations I’d worked before, the delicate matter of physical intimacy with subjects of the investigation had come up and had been handled in a variety of ways. Sometimes another CorSec member, like Iella, would be brought in to play the role of wife or girlfriend. Other times, when going out with a gang and being paired off with someone in the group, getting them drunk enough to incapacitate them, or feigning being that drunk myself provided a way out. Yet other times, claiming to have a girlfriend who knew nothing of my criminal activity would be enough to get folks to leave me alone.
But there were occasions where a cover story did not suffice. All operatives were told that they needn’t do anything they objected to on a moral or philosophical basis, and we were given assignments that would put the least amount of stress upon us in that regard, but there were times when sleeping with someone was the logical next step in deepening a relationship that would allow the investigation to go further. While I was not wholly comfortable in such situations, neither did I see sex between consenting adults as forbidden unless sanctioned by marriage. Mirax and I had enjoyed each other’s company well before we were married, and she was not the first woman I’d ever taken to bed.
The few times during investigations when I had slept with a subject were different for me because, in those situations, I had no steady relationship with anyone else. I had no external ties, no understandings or vows that I would be breaking by sleeping with someone. And it struck me that while such connections would have given me another level of concern, they might not have stopped me.
Mirax was my wife, with whom I had been entirely faithful; yet Tavira was the most direct course to obtaining Mirax’s freedom. It