Sword of the Lamb (45 page)

Fleet Operations; Level 1, a cavern world a hundred meters below sea level.

The builders of Fina had used the natural chambers, flooring them and coating the walls with plasment that left the rock contours still visible. The scale of the hangar vaults was so vast, it made the black-hulled ships berthed within them look like miniatures.

Commander Jan Barret took some pride in reeling off dimensions as he conducted this private tour. Hangar 1, the main hangar, was roughly rectangular, two hundred by three hundred meters, and eighty meters high at the apex where a bank of helions flooded the vault with light. The comcenter was set into one of the long walls, a semicircular chamber fronted with a sound-screened windowall and a narrow deck raised a meter above the hangar floor. From the deck, one had a clear view of the entire hangar and the lock tunnel across the vault.

The other two hangars, which were each about half the size of the main one, but still impressive enough, were used for storage and maintenance. The tour included a survey of the maintenance, docking, and loading facilities, an inventory of the fleet—five Troop Carrier Corsairs, ten Corvets, and forty-two Falcons—as well as the comcenter and introductions to its staff. There were never fewer than thirty techs on duty, none rated under Grade 6, and FO’s comcenter would make the average Confleet equivalent look crude by comparison.

Now they crossed Hangar I to the lock tunnel, their footfalls echoing in the quiet. It was the dinner hour; the hangars were nearly deserted.

Jan Barret was one of five men in FO ranked leftant commander, but he wore no uniform; no one in Fina wore a uniform. The only indication of his rank was the insignia with the triangle-flame symbol above a single star on his collar. He wore it proudly. He was only thirty, and often enough people judged him to be even younger; he had a freckled, boyish face and sandy hair that defied a comb. But neither the men under him nor Commander Garris were put off by that, and he was well aware of the rumors that Garris might name him first commander when he retired.

Barret frowned, watching Alex Ransom, and wondering why Predis seemed so uneasy about him. He might be a Confleet Academy graduate, but he wasn’t looking down his nose at the Society’s fleet; his questions were serious and pertinent.

And there was something about him—Barret sighed, finding that special quality elusive. He had the feeling Ransom was used to uniforms and would wear them well. Boots. He’d probably worn boots most of his life. For Barret, a Second Gen, the life style associated with uniforms and boots was foreign and in no way attractive, but there were some aspects of it he could respect. Like training and discipline. Ransom’s carriage conveyed both.

Ransom paused, looking up at a Falcon whose hull bore a long, scorched gash, the borasil coating blistered around it.

“She’s acquired her battle scars.”

Barret nodded. “Yes, and so did some of her crew. We lost two men aboard
Imp
.”

Ransom was silent for a moment, black brows drawn, but he made no comment on the casualties.

“Commander, your ships don’t carry the Phoenix symbol.” Barret shrugged as they continued down the row of Falcons. “I guess Commander Garris doesn’t think we should advertise ourselves. Why? Do
you
think we should carry insignia?” Ransom glanced at him and laughed. “I wouldn’t presume to say. For one thing, that isn’t the best way to get on good terms with your commanding officer. I was just thinking of it from Confleet’s point of view. The Phoenix gets blamed for a great deal of piracy we have nothing to do with. But perhaps that’s all to the good.”

Barret nodded. “If the Concord knew what a small fleet we really have, they might not be at all impressed. Fortunately, size isn’t everything.”

They walked on in silence for a while, Ransom examining the ships as they passed.

“Your total manpower is about sixteen hundred, isn’t it? How is that divided between flight and ground crews?”

“Very roughly, Captain. Most of our personnel are trained for both flight and ground duty.”

Ransom’s pale eyes narrowed, and Barret realized he’d slipped, using his rank. Garris had introduced him as
Fer
Ransom. But Ransom only looked away as if he were embarrassed.

“I’m not entitled to that rank here. That was my Confleet rank, and I don’t know where Commander Garris intends to start me in FO—probably base private. And I wouldn’t mind that. I want to make my own way here.”

Barret paused, feeling out the tone of that, and he found himself pleased with it.

“Look, we don’t put much stock in ranks or last names, except on duty. Call me Jan and, if it’s all right with you, I’ll call you Alex.”

Ransom smiled at that. “Thanks, Jan.”

Barret slowed his pace as they approached the mouth of the lock tunnel.

“Anyway, I doubt you’ll be starting out at base private. That’d be a hell of a waste. I mean, you’re the only Confleet Academy graduate we’ve ever had. You have more training behind you than all the rest of us put together.”

He laughed. “The Academy program isn’t
that
good, and I thought Commander Garris had Confleet training.”

“He did, but he worked his way up through the ranks. Besides, that was a long time ago.”

“Confleet hasn’t changed its methods that much.”

“Maybe, but there’ve been a lot of technical changes.” He cocked his thumb over his shoulder. “Like those new Falcons we picked up a couple of weeks ago. They carry new guns—modified X
⁶
s—more firepower than any Falcon’s ever carried before. But you probably know all about those little cannons.”

“Not really. I wasn’t a gunnery officer. What I know about the new X
⁶
s is out of the manuals or word of mouth.”

“Well, you’ll get a chance to learn about them firsthand.I don’t think this is what Confleet had in mind for you, though.”

Ransom was surveying the lock tunnel. “Confleet wouldn’t approve of the use I’ll be putting to any of their training. I’m only glad it will finally be put to good use.”

“It will be, Alex, and we’ll put
you
to good, hard use. There’ll be times when you get used so hard, you won’t be able to put one foot in front of the other.”

Ransom was still looking down the tunnel, his eyes veiled as if he were focusing on some bitter memory.

“Jan, I’ve been searching all my life for a cause I could work at to the point of exhaustion; something I could believe in and care about that much.” He stopped abruptly, as if he’d said more than he intended, but there was a ring of conviction in those words that stirred some indefinable excitement in Barret.

“You’ve found it here.” Then he laughed, feeling a need to dispel the sober mood. “Both a cause and an opportunity for exhaustion. We’re small, so we have to work damn hard to keep the enemy on his toes.”

“The enemy?” Ransom looked directly at him, a probing gaze that made him vaguely uncomfortable.

“Well, I mean the Concord.”

“Oh. I guess I’ve been out of a military milieu too long. That’s the first time I’ve heard the Concord referred to as the enemy. But I suppose it’s a matter of habit for someone like Commander Garris with his military background.”

Barret was silent, wondering about the word that came so easily to his lips. It wasn’t Emeric Garris who habitually referred to the Concord as the enemy.

“What about the lock, Jan? How many ships will it accommodate?”

He roused himself and looked down the tunnel toward the huge, segmented doors.

“It’ll take one of the Corsairs, or three Corvets, or six Falcons. That’s the lock itself. We can stack quite a few ships in the outside approach tunnel.”

“It’s ingenious, the underwater access.”

“It works well enough. We’re screened against observation on any wavelength for five hundred kilometers around Fina. Our ships always surface or submerge at irregular intervals and at random points within the screened area. Of course, we have to do some structural reinforcement on the ships so they can take the inward pressure from the water.”

Ransom nodded, turning as Barret did and keeping pace with him back across the hangar toward the corridor entrance.

“Jan, are any of your ships equipped with MTs?”

“No, and we’re not really using the MT strategically yet. The equipment’s expensive and hard to come by, and they’re put together practically by hand; we’re not set up for heavy manufacturing. And they’re a big energy drain.” He sighed. “I’d like to see all the Corvets equipped with MTs, but John M’Kim says it just isn’t feasible now.” They reached the wide double doors at the corridor entrance, and Barret stopped. “Well, that about covers it. I’ll leave you here. I have to check with TacComm on a recon run I’m taking out tomorrow.”

“Thanks for the tour, Jan.” Then Ransom gave him an easy smile. “Maybe I’ll end up in your command.”

“I’ll put in a word with Garris, but with your training and experience, it may work out that I’ll end up in
your
command.”

Ransom paused, his gaze direct. “Jan, if by any chance you did eventually end up in my command, would it bother you?”

Barret’s inclination was to pass that off with a noncommittal reply, but he didn’t; he couldn’t. And again he was thinking that Predis was worrying too much about Alex Ransom.

“No, it wouldn’t bother me; not as long as I was sure you were qualified.”

Ransom smiled. “Well, I don’t think we need to worry about that contingency now. I’m sure Commander Garris will give me a hard run before he’s satisfied with my qualifications for anything.”

“He knows how to give a man a run, too. TacComm is setting up a series of raids in the Solar System in a couple of weeks, so don’t count on much rest.”

“I don’t need much. You don’t have a permanent FO base in the Solar System, do you?”

“No.” Barret’s mouth tightened irritably. “It’d be handy for diversion, among other things. Besides, every time we move a ship in or out of here, there’s a risk; it could lead Confleet to Fina. Another good reason is that a lot of our missions take us into the Solar System, and that means SynchShift both ways. Takes a lot of power. But again, the problem is expense and matériel. We’re working toward it, though. We’ve had our eye on Rhea. That would put us near the middle of the Solar System in the Saturn orbit. Rhea’s only an overgrown rock, really, just big enough to hide a good-sized underground hangar, but too small to interest the Concord for mining or anything else.”

Ransom nodded. “We’ll have our Rhea base, sooner or later. Jan, thanks for the tour.”

“Sure. I’ll see you around the hangars in a few days.” He put out his hand. “And, Alex, welcome to Fleet Operations.”

PERSONAL FILE: E. RADEK CASE NOTES: 27 AUGUS 3253

SUBJECT: ALEX RANSOM

I’ll be making my last report on Alex tonight. Tomorrow he begins his career in Fleet Operations. In retrospect, I can call the metamorphosis of Lord Alexand into Alex Ransom entirely successful. Almost too successful, except for the persistent warp associated with Adrien Eliseer.

The test of Alex Ransom’s emotional equilibrium comes later this evening when I show him the ex seqs: the Ransom Alternative. I’ve asked Ben and Andreas to come to my office, too, but we’ll have to be circumspect in this and in subsequent meetings. Andreas objected to the late hour and the “sneaking about,” but not too strenuously. Even he recognizes the necessity of it.

Alex will also recognize it, and won’t be as reluctant to face it. In a way, I’m also reluctant, because I must tell him that a threat exists that may shatter all his hopes and make his sacrifices meaningless. But we’ve all made sacrifices, and any of us who didn’t recognize the high risk of failure were deluded.

It took nearly half an hour to cover all the sequences, including the subalternatives and contingency variables, a time of taut quiet broken only when Erica explained each new sequence, then subsided into silence while Alex studied it. He asked few questions.

The screen was on the compconsole at one end of her office; their backs were to Ben Venturi and Andreas Riis, who were seated in front of the desk. But Erica was aware of them and their part in the silence. Waiting as she was.

And now she watched Alex as he studied the last seq, absorbing the information as if he were himself a computer, analyzing and sorting, drawing instantaneous probability curves in his mind.

“Is that all of them?” Even his voice had a flat, mechanical tone.

“Yes.”

He turned off the screen, but when it went dark, didn’t look up, apparently still concentrating on the graphs and figures in memory. But his blink rate was too fast. He was concentrating on her, and he didn’t look at her because he wanted privacy.

She left him and crossed to the ’spenser. “Coffee, anyone?”

Ben and Andreas seemed to find it difficult to shift their attention from Alex long enough to give her the expected murmured declinings. She punched for coffee for herself, then took the cup to her desk and sat down. Alex turned, and she was reminded of the first time she saw him on his arrival in Fina: the regal posture, a lifetime of training behind it; a child taught from infancy to hold his head high as his father did, and his before him. In his month at Fina, he’d become more relaxed, blending into his background, into his new identity. But his posture now wasn’t a reversion to his former identity, only indicative of a state of mental alertness.

He looked at Andreas and Ben, but the silence remained unbroken. Still calculating. She felt something chilling in that cybernetic mindset. It wasn’t new, or a product of thirty-two days in Fina. It was only, like his posture, in some sense different.

He was calculating potential opposition now; that’s why his attention was focused on Andreas and Ben. He was confident of her support. This she could have predicted, this establishment of a mandate of command at the outset. She watched as his gaze met and held Ben’s. Ben didn’t look away any more than he would back down, but he would accept leadership he could believe in; he was waiting for proof.

There was a slight relaxation in Alex’s posture as he asked, almost casually, “Erica, why didn’t you elaborate on the Eliseer line in those ex seqs? Weren’t you sure I was capable of dealing with it objectively? You may all put your minds at ease on that score. Of course, if these ex seqs are implemented, we must try to keep the Lady Adrien free to honor the existing Contracts of Marriage with Lord Alexand. The political advantages of the union are obvious. However, the maximum time range in these ex seqs is ten years. It’s highly unlikely that Lady Adrien could be kept free so long, and that contingency is a very minor factor in the Ransom Alternative.”

He crossed to the desk, his eyes moving slowly, with the leisure of confidence, from one face to another, but when he came to Erica, she wasn’t capable of meeting his gaze. She turned to Andreas, who was looking up at Alex in stricken bewilderment. A paradox, Andreas; so much a scientist, yet he counted the cost of every decision first in subjective terms.

And Ben Venturi, the pragmatic idealist—his eyes were narrowed to slits, but the suspicion was gone. He found his proof in Alex Ransom’s ability to speak of the Eliseer match as if it were only a factor to be computed, from his denial of himself as Alexand. Exactly what Alex intended.

“Dr. Riis,” Alex said, “I assume you’re prepared to act on the basis of these ex seqs?”

Andreas answered, “Yes. The Ransom Alternative will put us in a stronger position far sooner than any other alternative available to us.”

Alex began pacing a circle in the open area between the desk and the doorway, hands clasped behind his back, eyes apparently focused on the floor, yet she doubted he’d have missed it if Ben or Andreas so much as raised an eyebrow.

Then he stopped and faced Andreas. “I must take exception both to the assertion that the Ransom Alternative will put us in a stronger position, and to the primary objective delineated in those ex seqs.”

Andreas frowned questioningly. “I don’t understand.”

“The primary objective is the reinstatement of the Lord Alexand with all powers intact
as of his death
. But the Lord Alexand will be your representative in the Concord; your tool. No amount of force will make a bladeless knife cut. If you simply reinstate Alexand, reestablish the old status, you’ll find yourself with an impotent tool. It isn’t enough.”

Ben’s mouth was tight. “What
is
enough?”

“The Chairmanship. Lord Alexand must be made
direct
heir to Galinin. It isn’t unreasonable. Alexand was in fact the real heir thanks to the blood link through Lady Elise.”

Andreas frowned. “Still, Galinin named Phillip Woolf his immediate successor, and at this point the Directors are holding to that in spite of your ‘death.’ But to make you a direct heir—that would mean putting a known Phoenix member in the Chairmanship within a few years. They won’t be ready to accept that so soon; it’s too much to expect of them. And we’ll only get one chance at bargaining.”

Alex remained clearly unimpressed and unconcerned with that argument.

“If you consider it a lost cause, Dr. Riis, I advise you to give up the Ransom Alternative and concentrate on the Peladeen Alternative.”

Erica stared at him. The Peladeen Alternative was Pri-One information, and Alex didn’t have access to those files. Then she almost laughed. She’d been foolish to think she could conceal that from him for a full month. At least she no longer had the problem of how to tell him about it and the threat it represented. Once he recognized the Peladeen Alternative, the threat would be obvious.

Ben was shaken, too, and no doubt wondering about Alex’s source of information, but that didn’t concern Andreas.

“Alex, do you consider your father that much of an impediment?”

She saw a flicker of coldness, an ambivalent reaction outside calculation. But it wasn’t evident in his tone.

“The Lord Woolf might have a change in attitude in the future. We know he’s been profoundly affected by the losses he’s suffered. But he may
not
change, or he may be driven to even more reactionary attitudes by his grief. In that case, he’ll be not only an impediment, but an insurmountable barrier. Except for Lord Phillip’s father, the Woolfs have been notably long-lived. Can the Phoenix afford to wait thirty or forty years before Alexand can even sit in a Directorate meeting? The next twenty years will be crucial for the Concord. Can you afford to wait that long to
begin
to initiate reforms? Consider it, Dr. Riis. Perhaps you should stay with Predis Ussher as your focus for Phase I.”

Ben glanced at Erica, a question in his eyes: How much have you told him? But she ignored both his gaze and the question. She was wondering why Alex had chosen to use Ussher’s name. He might have used the term “Peladeen Alternative” again.

Alex was looking intently at Andreas, and that was the answer. He wanted Andreas’s reaction to the name. And Andreas obliged him with an uneasy, uncertain frown.

Alex said tightly, “Dr. Riis, I will not suffer this apotheosis or allow the Phoenix to waste its time and resources simply to reestablish a situation I know to be untenable. We must aim for the Chairmanship or give up the Ransom Alternative.”

It was an ultimatum, and Erica saw Ben bridling at it, but Andreas stopped him before he could voice an objection.

“He’s right, Ben. We aren’t in a position to assess Woolf’s attitudes or their results.” Then, as Ben subsided, he said to Alex, “We’ll have to take the chance that we can force the Directors to go beyond reinstating you. The Peladeen Alternative has too many disadvantages for us to consider it seriously now. We have no choice but to aim for the Chairmanship, as you suggest.”

Alex’s expression didn’t change, although this was the recognition of leadership he wanted.

He looked at Ben. “Commander, are you in agreement?”

“I’d go with Andreas under any circumstances.” He hesitated, then nodded decisively. “But in this case, I go willingly. Yes, I’m in agreement.”

It was a statement of faith that went further than Erica expected, and Alex seemed to realize that. It stopped him for a moment and even called up a hint of a smile.

“Thank you, Commander. Erica?”

That inquiry was only a matter of courtesy; he knew where she stood.

“I’m in agreement.”

He nodded and turned away to resume his pacing.

“It would be a waste of time to make detailed plans for implementing the Ransom Alternative now. We’re faced with two major obstacles. First, we can’t go to the bargaining table until we have the long-range MT.”

Andreas sighed. “Unfortunately, I can’t predict when we’ll have it. The ex seqs were based on the assumption that we’ll get a breakthrough within five years, and that’s within the limits of probability, but I can’t pinpoint it.”

Alex took another slow turn, showing no dismay at that.

“At any rate, we need time to prepare both Alex Ransom and the Phoenix. I can’t be foisted on the members as their tool or representative without their support. Perhaps we should be grateful to Confleet for equipping me so well for FO. It’s a natural springboard. I’ve studied the staff and matériel, and if I can’t work my way up to First Commander by the time Garris retires, I’ll fail you in my apotheosis.” He stopped and turned to face them. “We can also dismiss that problem for the time being, but there’s one problem we can’t dismiss: the second major obstacle to the Ransom Alternative, and the problem that brings us together in this clandestine meeting.”

Andreas shifted uncomfortably, eyes averted.

“Clandestine? Alex, we . . . simply thought you should be apprised of the ex seqs privately.”

“No, Dr. Riis, ‘clandestine’ is the proper term, and this meeting marks the formation of a conspiracy. If it’s to be successful, we must be honest with one another. And with ourselves. Tell me, why isn’t the full Council considering these ex seqs?”

“I didn’t think it wise to discuss them with the other councilors at this time.”

“Especially not with Fer Ussher?” Then, at Andreas’s silent nod, “At least we’ve named the problem. Am I correct in assuming the main thrust of the Peladeen Alternative is to induce the Directors to restore the House of Peladeen with Predis Ussher as First Lord?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“And Ussher claims to be Elor Peladeen’s son?” Andreas only nodded again. Alex paused, then, “
Is
he Peladeen’s son?”

Andreas pulled in a deep breath, frowning slightly.

“Well, we’re as sure of that as we can be. The bodies of Lady Manir and Predis Peladeen were never found, of course, and there’s some physical resemblance to Lord Elor. Predis had some jewelry known to belong to Lady Manir, and related a few childhood memories. Not too much along that line, but he was only two at the time of the Fall.”

“How did he survive it?”

“A Fesh nursemaid took him in tow and later claimed him as her own child. She died a year before he joined us, so we couldn’t question her, but we have evidence that she
was
a nurse for the Peladeen child, and we couldn’t find any record of her marrying or having a child of her own. But very few records survived the Fall. That’s one problem we had in investigating Predis. For instance, there’s not a single fingerprint or VP record on Predis Peladeen to be found. Actually, we can’t prove his claim beyond a doubt. We only know it can’t be
dis
proved, and for our purposes that was sufficient.”

Alex asked Ben, “Are you convinced of the validity of his claim?”

“
His
claim isn’t important now. We’ll have no trouble proving
your
claim.”

“It might be important in terms of his responses and the loyalty he can command among the members. You’ve created a power vacuum in the Phoenix and it’s attracted a man of strong personal ambition. That’s inevitable. What makes him dangerous is that you’ll have to crush his ambitions, and he’s not the kind of man to willingly toss aside his own aspirations for Lordship in order to make someone else a Lord. Commander, how will he react if he knows the Peladeen Alternative is to be set aside?”

Ben sighed. “He could be very dangerous. He’s unpredictable when he’s crossed.”

Alex’s gaze shifted. “Erica?”

“Predis was screened twenty years ago, and the information in the screening files isn’t too conclusive; our methods have improved considerably since then.” She paused, her fingers drumming on the arm of her chair. “My opinion is based on little more than day-to-day observation, but I do consider him dangerous. He could be highly disruptive, and we’re so vulnerable in terms of security and morale. I don’t know how far he’d go if he knew his ambitions would be crushed, but I’m sure he won’t accept it passively.”

Alex walked back to the end of the desk and sat down on the edge, arms folded loosely, and only Erica was alerted by his casual tone.

“So, Dr. Riis, here is a man capable of wreaking havoc within an organization vulnerable to betrayal from within and totally dependent on mutual trust. One dissatisfied member could destroy the Phoenix, either outright by betrayal, or slowly by fostering dissension. Predis Ussher is a threat to the very existence of the Phoenix. Perhaps you should give some thought to removing that threat.”

Andreas stiffened, his eyes seeming to sink back into their sockets.

“
Removing
him? What are you suggesting?”

“There are always ways of removing a threat.”

“We’ve considered all available means, and most of them involve the risk of engendering a schism in the membership—and that
would
destroy the Phoenix. He has a loyal following, Alex; remember that. There is no feasible alternative short of assassination, and we will not be reduced to that. The Phoenix never has and never will resort to bloodshed to solve its problems. When we go to the bargaining table, we’ll go with clean hands. And for any of us to sink to murder would be more damaging to the mutual trust that binds us than Predis could ever be. If he does represent a serious threat, we’ll have to deal with it as best we can, but we cannot resort to murder.”