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

by Wren, M. K.

  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 t
here 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.

  4.

  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.

  For this reason, I hesitated at giving that order, but I had to face the fact that a special element of danger exists on Mars. With the possibility of failure in the habitat systems foremost in my mind, I ordered the evacuation of all but key Concord personnel from the ten Martian cities. I also ordered evacuation of all but key personnel allieged to the House of Daro Galinin and advised other Lords with holdings on Mars to do likewise.

  I’m pleased to inform you that the evacuation is being carried out by Confleet, with the assistance of the Selasid InterPlan System fleets, in an orderly fashion, with very little panic or confusion. Terran, Polluxian, and Lunar Conpol units have been brought in to aid the Martian units in maintaining order and preventing potential looting in evacuated areas, and a full Confleet wing has been dispatched to assist in containing the violence still in progress.

  I can also report at this time that the uprisings have been entirely contained in three Martian cities: Almath, Chryse, and Rubivale. Some violence still persists in other cities, but the worst of it is centered in Toramil, where Conpol and Confleet forces are concentrating on an offensive sweep to isolate the insurgents.

  I would also like to mention that Lord Cameroodo has refused to leave Toramil or evacuate anyone allieged to his House, and in this he demonstrates a positive attitude that all citizens of the Concord would do well to emulate.

  Let me assure you, strong measures have been taken to control these disturbances. There is no cause for panic or uncertainty. Above all, I must emphasize that the evacuation is a temporary measure, and primarily a precautionary one. And let me further assure you that the Directors and all Concord officials are keeping themselves alert and fully informed on every aspect of these disturbances, and that every available resource is being brought to bear to bring them to a swift conclusion.

  I ask all citizens of the Concord to remain calm and to refrain from listening to, or spreading, unfounded rumors. We are passing through a troubled era in history, but the Concord has survived greater perils. The times demand courage and faith. The Concord wasn’t built by cowards and pessimists; courage and faith are our heritage from its founders, our forefathers. Remember, we are the forefathers of future generations. They must find inspiration in us as we do in our predecessors.

  And now, I ask that each of you add your prayers to mine; I ask you to pray with me for an end to the dissension and for the restoration of order and reason.

  May the All-God and the Holy Mezion gra
nt us all peace.

  (Pan: Full view of office.)

  (Music: Final chorus, Hymn of the Concord.)

  (Cut to exterior: Fountain of Victory. Overlap and fade to studio and announcer.)

  ANNOUNCER: You have just heard an address by the Lord Mathis Daro Galinin, Chairman of the Directorate. Stay tuned for an updated report on the Martian uprisings with a special feature on the arrival of the first evacuees in Concordia, Norleans, Coben, and Tokio.

  5.

  “Cameroodo is collapsing! Mars will soon be lost, my friends! Lost! The Concord totters on the brink of chaos, and our time is coming!”

  Predis Ussher gripped the railing of the comcenter deck with both hands as if to brace himself against the tangible power of the massed cheers that surged up from the sea of faces, beating against the stone walls, crashing against his ears like a tumbling surf. He stood alone on the deck, resplendent in his blue-and-gold uniform, looking out over the close-packed, blue-clad crowd, at the open mouths, the waving arms, the boundless joy and hope.

  They were his. They believed.

  Nearly five thousand men and women crowded the hangar, like a blue sea around the black islands of the ships that waited to lift off toward their destiny of conquest and victory.

  The people were with him, one with him, extensions of his mind and body. Not even Erica Radek, standing near the deck, watching as she always did—not even she could quench his exaltation today, nor that of this multitude.

  They were his, body and mind.

  He raised his hands, and the sea subsided.

  “My fellow members, the Lord Galinin asks the citizens of the Concord to pray, and well he might. He’ll need those prayers; he’ll need the All-God’s help. But for the Concord, it’s already too late. Mars is doomed! The evacuation has begun; the cities that once glittered in the midst of the red deserts will soon be as empty as the deserts themselves. Only Cameroodo, of all the proud Lords who held sway on Mars, remains to battle chaos to the end. He will not win that battle, my friends! He cannot win!”