House of the Wolf (Book Three of the Phoenix Legacy) (6 page)

Erica looked up at him. “What kind of change?”

“What do you think? He’s moving it up. This isn’t for general publication yet. He says it’s tentative.”

“That means he wants to make the announcement himself at the next rally.”

“Probably. That’s scheduled for tomorrow. Anyway, that should take everybody’s mind off the fact that the SSB finally admitted Andreas
did
escape.”

“Predis is adept at creating diversions. Did the newscast mention the names of Andreas’s rescuers?”

Ben’s frown at that was one of mild puzzlement.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, and we didn’t have a chance to add anything to that script; Woolf was sitting right on top of the whole broadcast.”

“As long as they mentioned ‘Major Ransom.’ What’s the new date for the offensive?”

“Concord Day: 14 Octov.”

She felt the chill of pallor in her cheeks, and knew she wasn’t successful at keeping her dismay hidden.

“Ben, that’s only a little more than a month.”

He nodded bleakly. “Thirty-seven days.”

Predis Ussher carefully separated two loops of the gold braid crisscrossing the front of his blue uniform; he didn’t shift his gaze from the mirror when the door chime rang.

“John, that must be Jan Barret. Unlock the doorscreens for him.”

John M’Kim raised an eyebrow, then went to the door. “I have work to do, Predis. I’ll be on my way.”

“Very well. As for the uniforms, I’m pleased. Rather impressive, don’t you think, Rob?”

Hendrick was examining the other uniforms on the rack in the center of the office. He looked across at Ussher.

“Quite impressive, Predis. Hello, Jan.”

M’Kim spared Barret a distracted nod in passing. “Excuse me, Commander, I must get back to my office.”

Ussher was facing the mirror again, studying his reflection critically. “Lock the doorscreens, Jan.”

Barret complied, his gaze shifting from Hendrick to Ussher to the clothes rack.

“What’s all this, Predis?”

“Our uniforms. What every properly attired member of the Phoenix will be wearing during and after the offensive.” He pivoted toward Barret. “Rob, show Jan his uniform.”

Hendrick shuffled through the uniforms, then pulled one out and hung it at the front of the rack. Barret eyed it dubiously, noting that it was less ornate than Ussher’s; there wasn’t as much gold braid.

“Where did you get these?”

Ussher walked over to the rack, a private smile of satsifaction hovering around his lips.

“John M’Kim procured them, of course, from a number of sources. The insignia and that sort of thing is applied here in Fina.”

“Who’s going to be wearing these things?”

“Everyone, Jan. These are samples of the various styles.” He pulled out another uniform, devoid of braid. “This is for the rank-and-file members, for instance. Of course, our double idents won’t be sporting these for a while.”

“Holy God, Predis, we’ve never needed uniforms, not even in FO.”

Hendrick’s chin came up pugnaciously. “Listen, Barret, it’s not up to you—”

“Calm down, Rob,” Ussher said sharply, then favored Barret with a sympathetic smile. “Jan is a man of action. He doesn’t understand the importance of appearances, and perhaps that’s to his credit. In the end, it’s always action that counts.”

Barret couldn’t think of a response to that. He stared at the uniform designated as his, trying to picture himself in it, but the image only seemed faintly ludicrous.

“Since when have appearances been so important to us?”

“Among ourselves they aren’t,” Ussher assured him. He went to the chair by the mirror where a cloak was draped; the same light blue as the uniform, with a darker blue lining. “We’re above such concerns,” he went on, turning to the mirror as he draped the cloak around his shoulders with a whirling flourish. “But the Phoenix is moving out into the worlds now, and appearances are very important there. You’re a Second Gen, Jan; it’s hard for you to understand. In the outside worlds, no one will take an army in slacsuits seriously, but put that army in uniforms, and it will command attention and respect. It’s a matter of basic psychology.”

Barret watched Ussher’s hands smoothing the material, adjusting the drape.

“So we’re an
army
now.”

Ussher stiffened and turned slowly.

“No, we’re not an army, but we must speak in terms the people—and the Lords—of the Concord will understand. Really, Jan, I thought you’d be pleased.”

“I’m sorry, Predis, I . . . it just doesn’t seem right.”

Hendrick said curtly, “Barret, if the chairman says it’s right, then it is. He knows more about these things than you ever will.”

Barret turned angrily on Hendrick. The damned yes-sayer. Why did Predis put up with him?

But he didn’t always. Before Barret could get a word out, Ussher cut in, “Rob, haven’t you anything else to do? John said Dr. Hayward hadn’t sent him the last of the specifications on the new pulsed lasers.”

Hendrick’s handsome features reddened. “I’ll talk to him.” He started for the door, sending Barret a cold look.

“And, Rob . . .” Ussher waited until Hendrick had unlocked the doorscreens. “I want a report on that—the lasers.”

“You’ll have it tomorrow.”

When Hendrick had departed, Ussher removed the cloak, tossed it on the chair, and went to his desk.

“Lock the screens, Jan.”

Barret swallowed his resentment at that offhanded order; it never seemed worth making an issue of. He set the lock, then crossed to the desk, waiting while Ussher checked a requisition sheet.

“Predis, is this what you wanted to see me about—the uniforms?”

He put the sheet aside. “That was the main reason.”

“Then if you don’t mind, I’ll get back to FO. Commander Garris and I were meeting with the TacComm staff.”

“I said that was the
main
reason. I also wanted a report on your department’s preparedness status.”

“You’ve had reports every day from every subdepartment and unit in FO—”

“I know, and I’ve read them all very carefully.” His understanding smile made Barret feel embarrassed at his own impatience. “It’s just that statistics don’t always tell the whole story, Jan. Will you be ready?”

He shrugged. “Yes. We’d be better off with the 1 Januar deadline. For one thing, you can only rush a training program so fast. I have thirteen hundred volunteers from other departments; that’s a third of our personnel. If they don’t get adequate training, we’ll all be in trouble.”

“Yes, I know, but there are advantages in the Concord Day date that override the disadvantages. Perhaps the volunteers should be concentrated in the ground crews.”

“For the God’s sake, Predis, they’d be as much of a liability there as in the flight crews.”

There was a short silence, and Barret was inclined to apologize for his curt tone, but Ussher nodded reassuringly.

“Of course. At any rate, I have complete faith in you, Jan. If anyone can bring FO to optimum strength, you can.”

Barret didn’t try to answer that, except to say, “We have two more raids lined up; if they go well, we’ll only be eight percent short of optimum. Armanent will be tight in terms of quantity, but the new lasers will offset that. We should be able to field a fleet of approximately 330 Falcons and 150 Corvets. About a third of them will be hangared at the Rhea base.”

Ussher smiled with evident satisfaction.

“Nearly five hundred ships—a fleet to rock Centauri! I can always count on FO. Jan, we’d be lost without you.”

Barret let the words slip without thinking. “Especially with Alex gone?”

Ussher seemed to freeze; his smile faded slowly.

“The Phoenix doesn’t depend on any single man. Ransom wasn’t indispensable.”

“And Dr. Riis?”

“I said
no
man is indispensable. His loss was a tragedy, of course, but the Phoenix survived it.”

Barret sighed, his brief defiance fading with that expiration of breath. We’ve survived, he thought, and yet . . .

“Jan? Is something bothering you? Please, don’t hesitate to unburden yourself to me. Something
is
bothering you.”

“Only . . . rumors, Predis.”

Ussher’s eyes narrowed, but he was still smiling.

“Well, then, perhaps you should tell me about them and let me put your mind at ease. After all, if we can’t be honest with each other, where are we?”

Barret was sorry he’d let the conversation take this turn, but he couldn’t just cut Predis off without an answer.

“I’ve heard rumors about the power malfunction last week, that there was a newscast during the—the blackout about Dr. Riis.”

“Am I to understand the coincidence has been given some deeper significance?”

“Well, yes. They’re saying you . . . engineered the failure to make sure no one in Fina heard the newscast.”

Ussher averted his eyes, as if to hide the hurt chagrin that briefly seemed to slip out of control.

“
They
say. You’ve
heard
. Really, Jan, I never thought you, of all people, would be taken in by this malicious gossip. You know where it starts.”

“Predis, I didn’t say I was taken in. It’s just that—well, I just wondered.”

“Exactly. Jan, that’s what they want. They want people to ‘just wonder.’ If anything out of the way happens around here, it gets blamed on me. Like that unfortunate incident when Commander Venturi was wounded. No one gives me a chance to defend myself; no one has the guts to accuse me to my face. And in that case, I wouldn’t be surprised if some of Venturi’s so-called friends didn’t set up that ambush. But
I’m
the one who gets blamed.”

Barret frowned, feeling the heat in his cheeks, and he wasn’t really sure whom Ussher meant by “they” and “so-called friends.”

“I’m sorry, Predis, I didn’t mean—”

“I know, Jan. Actually, I’m glad to know what’s being said behind my back, and it certainly isn’t your fault.”

Barret hesitated, then, “Predis, I talked to one of our agents in Leda who heard the newscast. The SSB said Dr. Riis
had
escaped. He was rescued by two men. One of them called himself Ransom. That’s . . . what they said.”

Ussher’s easy laugh was the last thing Barret expected.

“Well, that wasn’t the story they told week
before
last. Jan, you don’t trust any news item the SSB puts out, do you? The old divide-and-conquer ploy; sow doubt among the enemy. Besides, if Dr. Riis
did
escape, where
is
he? Where’s Ransom? Can you answer me that?”

Barret shook his head. “No.”

“Of course not.” Ussher glanced at his watch pointedly. “Jan, I have a departmental staff meeting coming up. If you’ll excuse me. . . .”

Barret nodded, reminded that Garris and the TacComm staff were still waiting for him.

“I have work of my own. Goodbye, Predis.”

If he responded, it wasn’t before the doorscreens clicked on between them.

Uniforms. Barret wondered why the idea rankled so much.

Undoubtedly, they were necessary. Still, it didn’t seem right.

But there wasn’t time to worry about it. Concord Day was only thirty-two days away.

PUBLICOM SYSTEM BROADCAST #20958-C-2 DIR/CON

TRANSCRIPT: SPECIAL NEWS BULLETIN 20 SEPTEM 3258
POINT OF ORIGIN: CONCORDIA

ANNOUNCER
: We interrupt our regularly scheduled programming to present this special address by the Lord Mathis Daro Galinin, Chairman of the Directorate of the Concord of Loyal Houses. We take you now to the Hall of the Directorate in Concordia.

(
Music: Hymn of the Concord
.)

(
Pan: Plaza of Concord toward Hall of Directorate. Zoom to windowall of Chairman’s office
.)

(
Cut to interior, office. Closeup: Lord Galinin at desk
.)

(
Music out. Fade to office pickup
.)

ANNOUNCER
: The Chairman of the Directorate, the Lord Mathis Daro Galinin.

THE CHAIRMAN
: Citizens of the Concord, it is not my custom to come before you personally to discuss events within the Concord. However, I’m sure you’re all aware that the situation on Mars is very grave, and I’m informed that unfounded rumors and exaggerated accounts of the disturbances are being circulated that have fostered a climate of fear and doubt throughout the Two Systems.

As an instance, I’ve been told that a rumor is now circulating that the Lord James Neeth Cameroodo was killed in the initial outbreak. To this I can reply with perfect assurance that Lord James is alive and unharmed. I spoke with him by SynchCom only a few minutes before this broadcast.

Rumor also has it that the atmobubbles in Toramil were damaged, and again, the answer is an unequivocal no. Toramil’s habitat systems are intact. There was a brief failure in Almath’s systems, but it was immediately remedied with emergency power sources, and
no
casualties resulted.

Even the actual casualty rates have been grossly exaggerated in some accounts. I consider such morbid rumormongering thoroughly reprehensible, even treasonous, and I’ve chosen to speak to you personally today in order to set the record straight, to explain to you what has actually happened, and what is being done.

First, I must be entirely honest with you; the situation is indeed serious. However, you must bear in mind that the seriousness of these uprisings is due in part to the fact that all human habitation on Mars is dependent upon artificial environment systems. The memory of the revolt in the Ivanoi compounds on Ganymede is painfully clear. The staggering death toll there was a result of damage to the habitat systems. It was actually a minor uprising; it was devastating
only
because of its location.

We have a similar state of affairs on Mars. Were these disturbances taking place on Terra or Pollux, the situation wouldn’t be nearly so serious. Drastic measures, such as evacuation, certainly wouldn’t be called for, and I consider evacuation an extremely drastic measure, not only for the people directly involved, but because it could engender general doubt and fear and even panic.