Sword of the Lamb (37 page)

“I don’t know, Predis, but that decision can’t be made now. First, as Erica pointed out, we aren’t sure of his acceptability. Secondly, we don’t know if the Directorate would reinstate him in his present position even if we force them to the bargaining table. And we can’t begin to bargain until we have the long-range MT. That decision is years in the future, and it’s fruitless to consider it now.”

The voice of reason; that phrase so often came to mind with Andreas. A simple statement of fact spoken with no hint of impatience, and no awareness of the overwhelming importance of that answer to Predis Ussher.

The door chime sounded, and Erica felt her muscles go tight. Ben was back with their latest recruit.

She had to make a choice: whether to concentrate her attention on the reactions of the councilors, or on the new recruit. The latter took precedence. For one thing she was only interested in one councilor’s responses, and when she turned to face the door, Ussher was behind her.

She noted with some relief that there was no hint of adverse reaction to the stunner. She also noted that the Lord Alexand didn’t wait for Ben to lead the way, but walked into the room with no hesitation, as if he were entirely familiar with his surroundings, leaving Ben to follow in his wake. He didn’t stop until he stood less than two meters from the table, then he removed his black, gold-striped helmet and held it under his right arm. Ben moved quietly to his chair, but Erica didn’t turn; like the others, she was too intent on this young Lord. And he was that to his fingertips.

She almost smiled at the uneasy silence of the councilors; undoubtedly, some of them were wondering whether they should rise. But their uneasiness went beyond that. They were seeing the Society’s future in this black-uniformed man; at least a potential beyond their most optimistic imaginings. And most of them were hoping the potential was there.

He waited silently, assessing them as they assessed him, his posture so firmly erect he seemed to be standing at attention. But that regal stance was a product of training, and so well ingrained it was entirely natural to him. He was, by every index, confidently at ease.

Erica’s analytical mindset wavered. There was so much of Rich in his face, particularly in the clear blue of his eyes. She hadn’t considered the reminders of her own grief that she would encounter in Rich’s brother. But he would find reminders of Rich here in Fina, too. It occurred to her that the Confleet black was a symbol of mourning for him, not just a uniform.

Then she frowned. His right hand was bandaged, but that wasn’t what attracted her eye. It was the ruby and black jade ring; the ring given him by Adrien Eliseer.

On his left hand was a star sapphire that she knew to be a gift from his mother. She wondered if he’d brought anything of Phillip Woolf with him into this new life.

The process of mutual assessment occupied only a few seconds. It ended as Andreas rose. Erica remained seated, and perhaps the others took their cue from her; they didn’t rise, but they seemed uncomfortable. Fesh, she thought, again; Fesh at heart. And, as she expected, they were all a little awed in the Lord’s presence.

She glanced at Ussher, finding his eyes veiled to her scrutiny. If this young man represented an unparalleled hope for the Phoenix, he was also a potential catalyst.

Andreas said, “My lord, I’m Andreas Riis. Welcome to Fina.”

There was a subtle tension around his mouth as he replied, “Thank you, Dr. Riis. But my name is Alex Ransom.” He paused, then, “The Lord Alexand is dead.”

Erica Radek led him through the corridors, seeing them, as she always did with a new member, through his eyes. He would note the economy implicit in the lack of moving pedways, and might even deduce Fina’s origin in a series of caves in the winding course of the halls, which conformed to the natural rock passages as much as possible. He would count the levels they ascended and read the signs posted beside the S/V screened doorways. She heard a slight break in his step as they passed the one marked MATTER TRANSMITTER; TERMINAL 1. He would also study the people they passed, but there were few members in the halls at this hour; Fina ran on Terran Standard Time, and it was nearly midnight.

He made no comments, and his only question concerned the gold-and-blue triangle-flame motif emblazoned over the directories at the main corridor junctions. She explained the symbol as that of the Phoenix, the equilateral triangle representing both permanence and equality, the flame symbolizing enlightenment and hope.

His uniform attracted no attention from the members they passed, but he’d seen Ben Venturi in his SSB black, and would realize Concord uniforms weren’t entirely out of place here. He wore his helmet, which effectively shadowed his face, and made identification unlikely. She’d advised him against using his face-screen; that would attract more attention than his unscreened face.

He didn’t voice his questions, but she knew he was taking in every detail and formulating questions in his mind. She would have to be careful when he started asking them; he was adept at drawing out information without seeming to make an inquiry.

She looked back on the Council meeting and almost smiled. She’d been concerned about his being subjected to questioning when he was unfamiliar with the situation or the people involved; Rich hadn’t had time to give him any information of that nature. And she’d been concerned because he was so close to Rich’s death. Only yesterday. She expected his reactions to be below optimum. But after a half hour of questioning, she was sure Alexand had learned a great deal more than the councilors, and if they expected to sit in judgment of him, they were made aware, subtly but clearly, that they were also being judged.

At length, they reached the doorway marked HUMAN SCIENCES 1: RADEK. He noted the fact that she held the screen-control switch while he passed through. Once inside, he surveyed the small room, a wary tilt to his head as he looked up at the low ceiling; he would need time to adjust to the confined spaces. Three of the walls were composed of a ripple-textured, mirror-finished plasex used extensively in Fina and designed to reduce the sense of confinement; it made the walls seem less solid. He noted the sparse furnishings, only a low table in the center of the room flanked by two armchairs, and he concentrated for some time on the wall to the left, a wall taken up entirely with screens, memfile, datanalysis, and computer consoles. He studied it with an expert eye, no doubt recognizing the components that were neither of Delai Omer nor DeKoven Woolf origin. Finally, he turned to the space between the console wall and the corridor entrance, to the tiered shelves banked with luxuriant foliage and exotic blossoms: the orchids. He looked around at her, a faint smile relaxing his features.

“You were born on Terra.”

She laughed. “Yes, I was. Is it so obvious?”

“No. Perhaps it’s only the orchids.” He walked over to examine them. “These are your hobby?”

“Yes. My little bit of Terra.” She joined him by the orchids, but didn’t approach too closely. “I’ve been here for thirty years, and Pollux is beautiful, really; more Terra’s twin than Castor’s. But I still miss Terra.”

He didn’t feel that loss yet; his eyes went cold. She studied him clinically, noting the pallor and the shadows under his eyes, and wondered when he’d last eaten or slept.

“This is HS 1, Alex, your home for the next week while I subject you to my black arts: screening and testing. This I call my work room. My office and apartment are through there.” She pointed to the doorway on the wall opposite the corridor entrance, then indicated the opening on the right-hand wall. “Your quarters will be in there, and perhaps that’s a grandiose term for a single small room and bath, but you’ll find life a little spartan in Fina.”

“No more than in Confleet, I’m sure.”

“Well, that experience might help you adjust to Fina.” She noted his quick glance at the corridor entrance; the typical shimmer of the shock screen was evident against the darkness of the S/V screen. “Yes, that door is equipped with a shock screen, and you’ll be a virtual prisoner here for a few days, but I’m afraid that’s necessary for security reasons. Besides, until you learn the layout of Fina. you might get lost.”

He gave a short laugh. “I quite understand.”

He was on the edge of physical collapse, and yet she wondered if he realized it. She’d seen this often enough in new recruits; all of them reached Fina through some emotional trauma, but there was in this young man a defiant containment that refused to recognize the price he paid to stand in this small, mirror-walled room. Alex Ransom would present problems for her.

Ransom
. An interesting choice.

“Sit down, Alex, if you’d like.” As he went to one of the chairs flanking the table, she opened the autospenser compartment by the hall doorway. “This is our source of sustenance here in HS 1; there’s a menu and code numbers on the door. Would you like something to eat?”

“No. Thank you, Dr. Radek.”

Of course not. She watched him put his helmet on the table and drape his cloak over the back of the chair, then sink into it. unfastening the stiff collar of his uniform. She turned to the ’spenser and touched out a number sequence, waited until a plasex cup slid out of the slot, then took it with her when she went to the other chair.

“I call you Alex because we tend toward first names here, and because I know I must get used to calling you that, as you must get used to hearing it, but you embarrass me with that formal
Doctor
Radek. Please—just Erica.”

He smiled politely. “Erica it will be, then.”

“Good. Now, you probably have a few questions, but I can’t answer them all tonight. For one thing, you’ll need some rest. I understand you mustered out at 06:00. It’s nearly midnight now, and that makes for a long day. Alex, among other things I’m a qualified physician and, as such, I’m
prescribing
this for you.” She leaned forward and handed him the cup. “It’s a liquid concentrate. The flavor isn’t exactly up to gourmet standards, but it has other attributes, such as enough food value to keep the average man going for a full day. And it stays down more easily than solid food.”

His eyes flashed up to hers, then he laughed softly. “A good recommendation. Thank you.”

“It will be up to me to assess your acceptability and potential as a member. I don’t like my data distorted by factors such as physical depletion. Anyway, I have a few frustrated maternal instincts that surface occasionally. Now. I’ll give you a chance to ask some of those questions.”

A direct gaze; a speculative scrutiny, then, “I won’t burden you with too many questions tonight. I realize you won’t be sure of my acceptability until I’ve passed your screening, and I don’t expect you to answer the real questions now, so perhaps I should start with the usual questions, such as, Exactly where am I? Geographically, that is.”

“You’re in the southern hemisphere of Pollux, latitude about twenty-five degrees, longitude thirty degrees west of the Leda meridian. You’re on—or, rather, under—the island of Fina, a name which also applies to our little community. It’s one of a number of small islands at the southern tip of the West Pangaean continent. We’re near the Comargian Straits between the Selamin Sea and the Polluxian Ocean.”

He eyed her obliquely. “That suggests more questions, such as how did I get from my touch-down point near the equator to twenty-five degrees south in the ten minutes in which I was drugged? But I assume that’s one of the questions you can’t answer now, or I wouldn’t have been drugged.” He smiled in response to her brief laugh, then, “At least I’m oriented spatially now. Can you tell me what I have to look forward to in the near future?”

“In the near future, yes. I’ll oversee the necessary testing and screening here. I have an assistant, by the way: Val Severin. But she’ll only help with the objective tests. Any area where your identity might be even indirectly exposed, I’ll handle myself. I’ll also give you your basic conditioning and some initial orientation. When I’m through with you, you’ll go on to General Training, which lasts from one to three months, depending on a new member’s background and prior experience. In GT you’ll learn the Phoenix in detail, its history and goals, the functions of every department and unit—every aspect of it. You’ll study survival arts, role-playing and disguise, physical and mechanical defense, memorization and conditioning techniques, and we have a number of technical devices for defense or intelligence work you’ll have to master. You’ll have plenty to keep you busy.”

His smile was forced. As he leaned forward to put down his empty cup, she saw a flash of gold at the open collar of his uniform. Rich’s medallion. So many reminders.

“And after General Training?”

“You’ll be assigned to a particular department.”

He laughed, and she heard the brittle edge in it. “No doubt Confleet’s training will serve me in good stead there. You
do
have some use for a Confleet-trained . . . soldier.” He spoke that last word with bitter irony.

“Yes, we have some use for soldiers. Rich told you about the military engagement in the General Plan ex seqs. We’re building our fleet in preparation for that, and your training may be useful there. We don’t attract many people skilled in military arts. In fact, you’re the first Confleet Academy graduate we’ve had.”

He seemed to consider that a moment, then turned his chair and studied the console wall. “My contacts in Concordia told me the possibility always exists that I might fail the screening.”

It was a question, and she answered it without forcing him to be explicit.

“If you should fail, we’ll know within two or three days. In that case, your ejection capsule will turn up on an island near your ‘crash’ site, having miraculously functioned at the last minute. Your radio equipment will be burned out, and you’ll be in a state of mild shock with a total memory lapse covering the last few days. We always consider the possibility that an applicant might have to be returned, so to speak, and plan his disappearance with that in mind.”

“Returned.” He seemed to study the word, the mask of containment slipping, exposing a bleak dread. “If I’m
returned
, how will you deal with me as a potential Mankeen?”

That came from Rich. She met his intent gaze calmly.

“I don’t know. But you won’t fail the screening.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I’ve quite a fund of information on you. You and the Phoenix are working toward the same goals and can establish a mutually beneficial symbiosis. My only concern was a negative reaction on your part toward your father.”

A cold, fleeting light behind his eyes; she recognized the pain in it and found that reassuring. It hadn’t been translated into hatred.

“You speak of that concern in the past tense.

“Yes. You’ve already virtually eliminated it with your accusation against Karlis Selasis.”

He smiled, apparently pleased that she recognized the implications in that.

“For nearly four years I’ve had Karlis’s company forced on me by Confleet. Call it retribution.”

She laughed. “I’ll call it an adroit political maneuver; one designed to protect DeKoven Woolf, and that assures me that you haven’t turned completely against your father.”

He nodded, and his long breath seemed an effort. “My ‘demise’ will put enough of a strain on the House. My purpose in joining you isn’t revenge against my father. I understand him and his motives. I simply can’t accept them. Rich said, or hoped, that I wouldn’t have to join a secret society to work for our . . . cause. But he was wrong. He blazed this path for me; I’m here for the same reasons he was.” The control was slipping again, and he rose, turning to study the console wall, putting his face in profile to her. “Tell me, what’s the function of an ex-Lord in the Phoenix—other than playing soldier, thanks to custom and Confleet?”

“I can’t answer that now, but Rich told you enough of our plans, and you are, in a very pragmatic sense, a student of politics. You can guess what we hope for you.”

“Phase I. I could be the foothold in the existing power structure, in which case the Phoenix will find it necessary to resurrect the Lord Alexand as its namesake resurrects itself.” He seemed for a moment even more weary and tense, then his mouth tightened. “Of course I’ll accept nothing less. Unfortunately, except for my Confleet training, I’m suited for no other function than Lordship, and perhaps that sort of ambition will make me unacceptable here, in spite of your apparent faith.”

Again, a question with no questioning inflection. She smiled a little at that.

“Do you intend to make yourself Lord of the Phoenix?”

“Ah. A point, and accepted. No. Rich called the Phoenix a tool; one that would serve his purpose by allowing him to become its tool. I’ll accept those terms.”

“No doubt the Society will also accept them. You realize, I hope, that it’s entirely possible that we may not be able to resurrect you.”

It was a test of sorts, even if it was a truth. His eyes glinted with amusement, recognizing both.

“The Lord Alexand
will
be resurrected. I was born to that. And there’s irony for you; born to resurrection or—”

Death
.

He didn’t say the word, but she knew it, as she sometimes knew Rich’s thoughts. She studied the pale, tense features of this brother Rich had loved so deeply, her own grief encompassing his. Alexand would never be a saint like Rich. There were qualities in Rich that were absent in his brother, but the opposite was also true, and those qualities would be vital to the Phoenix in the next few years, to the Concord.