Sword of the Lamb

by M. K. Wren

  Jael let himself be drawn into another grappling session on the mat, then lowered his guard just enough for Ransom to get in a flat-palmed blow to the head. Jael gave a choked cry of pain and abruptly went limp.

  Ransom could have had him then, but he pulled back, and Jael, eyes closed, had to imagine his momentary chagrin. That’s all he was allowed. Before Howe could call a stop, Jael moved, and Ransom was caught entirely off guard. In a few seconds, Jael had him on his back, his hands at his throat, and Howe finally got out a startled, “Stop!”

  For a moment, Ransom stared up at Jael blankly, then he began laughing aloud. All three of them were laughing, the combatants sagging wearily on the mat, and at length Howe shook his head and said, “Hell, there’s nothing I can teach you two. You want to come to the SI class for practice, that’s fine. Otherwise, no use wasting your time or mine.” He looked at his watch. “Time for supper. Go on, get yourselves a shower and get out of here.”

  Jael and Alex had supper in the SMR-level dining hall. It wasn’t one of the main halls, but there were at least fifty members using it, and a good number of them took time to introduce themselves. Friendly. And half blind, one and all. They didn’t read Alex Ransom.

  Still, someone in Fina had to be lined in on him. Radek definitely, and probably Venturi and Riis. But the nonranked, average member? The answer almost made Jael laugh. None of them; not one. They didn’t look past the name and standard slacsuit, or that easy manner that deftly put a little space between him and anyone else without making them feel excluded. They didn’t even really look at his face.

  Fesh. A nest of tooks.

  Jael shrugged mentally; he had no intention of interfering with Alex’s gim. The only question in his mind was whether Alex knew he read the gim. Nothing said during the meal suggested he did; he might be suspicious, but he was in some ways as much at a disadvantage as a Fesh.

  Finally, they took their empty trays to the disposal chute, then retired to the GT quarters, which consisted of four bedroom/bath units opening onto a small sitting room, a comfortable room by Fina’s standards, furnished with cushioned chairs, a low table, a vidicom console, and a ’spenser by the door. Jael sagged into one of the chairs and leaned back, flexing his legs.

  “Damn, I hope every day won’t be as hard as this one. The strain on the brain’s enough of a down go without the strain on the body.”

  Alex laughed. “Wait till Master Jeans starts on you.”

  “Jeans? Oh, your disguise man. That one doesn’t hackle me. I might line him in on a few garb gims.”

  “I don’t doubt that.” He went to the ’spenser. “Coffee?”

  “Yes, I could use it.” He nodded his thanks when Alex handed him a cup and sat down in another chair. “You know, you didn’t pick up on all your hand-to-hand from Confleet.”

  A distant smile and a veiled look; but Jael didn’t expect Alex Ransom to strip himself for anyone, especially not for someone he’d only known a few hours, and an Outsider at that. He wondered if the latter carried much weight with him.

  “Oh, I’ve picked up a few nonregulation techniques—here and there.” Alex tried his coffee, relaxed and at ease—and on full alert. “I suppose you’re something of a rarity here, Jael. What induces a soul Outsider to join a group like the Phoenix? That suggests you’re as much an anomaly in the Outside as you are here.”

  Jael gave him a slow, wry smile. “I thought it was considered bad taste to ask about a member’s past, pre-Phoenix.”

  Alex only shrugged. “It is, and it’s your prerogative to tell me to mind my own business.”

  “Well, I’m not as strung up about taste as some, and I probably tied in for the same reasons you did. I don’t like what’s coming on out there, and I don’t see anyone doing anything about it except the Phoenix.”

  “A logical and simple explanation. Too simple.”

  Jael nodded. “Well, maybe I am an anomaly in the Outside. For one thing, my old Ser does all right for his own; money’s never been short, and money buys education, if that’s where you’re turned. Of course, it’s not so easy in the Outside. The old Ser could lay hands on a kilo of diamonds any time, but teachers—that’s another gim. But he managed, and we have inputs to almost any Concord memfiles, including the University’s. Mostly, there was my mother.” He paused, frowning into his cup. “She was different. A fringer, really; born uppercaste. Anyway, she had it in her head I should be educated, and she was no illit dodder herself.”

  Alex frowned slightly, his gaze direct now.

  “You speak of her in the past tense.”

  “Yes. Well, my lady mater died a few years ago. Viral cancer. We’ve got the medical facilities to handle the rips and burns the Brothers pick up on the line, but we aren’t set up for anything like that, and she couldn’t walk into a Conmed hospital. Her survival odds would’ve been nil.”

  Alex turned away, and Jael saw the small, spasmodic tensing of muscles along his jaw.

  “I’m . . . sorry, Jael.”

  It was a straight say, and Jael understood it. But he didn’t pursue it; he recognized a screened area when he ran into it.

  “Anyway, my mother made the error of seeing I got educated, and I guess that tends to be an eye-lifter always. And then . . .” He hesitated, searching for the words. “Maybe the view from the Outside gives you a sharper focus. You see the derelicts, and the poor tooks on the slip looking for a door, and the survivors—the ones who live to come out of the DCs—and the little men in the big uniforms, and the fat Fesh smugs praying with one hand, digging the other into someone else’s pocket. And the Lords—they let the Outside stay in business so they’ll have a place to go to buy off boredom with excess. You never get disillusioned when you come up in the Outside; you never learn any illusions. And you see everyone on the quiv. When the ones wearing the black get scared, they start squeezing the lowcaste Fesh, or the Outsiders, but mostly the Bonds. The ones on the bottom blow off now and then, but nothing comes up from that except they get burned and everyone starts squeezing harder.” He took a long breath and let it out slowly. “Nothing will change the basic nature of the human animal, but you have to lay certain lines and hold them or the whole system spins out. Maybe I don’t cleave deep to the old Concord, but I keep wondering what happens when it spins out altogether.”

  Alex was silent for some time, his eyes shadowed, and Jael recognized in that silence a kinship.

  “Jael, the view from the Inside isn’t so different.”

  “No, I guess it isn’t.” He leaned back, clasping his hands behind his head. “I thought it would be. These people here are all Insiders, but they see the same picture, even if the angle’s different. And they really knock me blind, you know. I mean, I didn’t have anything to lose and maybe a hell of a lot to gain tying with the Phoenix, but they tossed off everything—careers, homes, families. Like you, brother. You tossed it all.”

  The pale eyes were cool, probing, but there wasn’t a hint of suspicion; it was there, but well hidden.

  “Sacrifices are relative, and I can’t believe you haven’t made your own. What do you hope to gain from the Phoenix?”

  Jael shrugged. “Maybe just something to hope for, or to believe in. That runs short where I came up. Religion is for Insiders, and the Concord doesn’t pull any believers in the Outside. The Brotherhood isn’t something you believe in; it’s just something you’re cleave to for survival’s sake.”

  “The Brotherhood? You mean the Brotherhood of Amik the Thief?”

  “That’s the only Brotherhood there is in the Outside. You’ll find a few independent clans, but most of them are cleave one way or another to the Brotherhood, and there aren’t many soul Outsiders who don’t line with it.”

  One eyebrow came up a millimeter. “Does your ‘old Ser’ know about you and the Phoenix?”

  “Yes, but he’s been conditioned. Besides, he wouldn’t turn the Shads on me; not on a blood son. Nor on anything I lay edic
t for.”

  “What does he think of your joining the Phoenix?”

  Jael laughed, remembering his father’s initial reaction.

  “Well, he doesn’t hold much faith in the Phoenix, but he doesn’t in anything, and he feels some kinly since it’s Outside, too, for the Shads. Maybe he has it in his head there might be some fringe divvies in a blood tie in the Phoenix, and in that, he’s doomed for a go-down. But he wouldn’t try to stop me. I take my own way.”

  Alex concentrated on his coffee. “There might also be some advantages for the Society in that blood tie.”

  “Don’t count that in your calculations. I won’t use the old Ser or the Brothers; I lined that out from the first.”

  Alex met his eyes, and his laugh was indicative of satisfaction. “I’m relieved to hear that.”

  “You should be. Any tie-up with the Brothers would be asking fate for the Phoenix. The Brotherhood will be around when the Phoenix and the Concord take the last fall. Again, the nature of the human animal.” He picked up his cup, then, finding it nearly empty, rose and went to the ’spenser. He filled his cup, but didn’t return to his chair. He’d said enough for tonight, and he didn’t expect Alex Ransom to reciprocate that self-revelation.

  “I’m going to put in some time with the memfiles. You have a lap on me. How far behind am I, anyway? How long have you been here?”

  Alex rose. “About two weeks, but no one’s clocking us to the finish line.”

  Two weeks. Jael almost laughed. If he had any doubts, the timing would still them.

  “I’m not asking for a race.” He went to his bedroom door, then turned to give Alex a sidelong smile. “Tomorrow night I’ll give you another lesson in Outside hand-to-hand techniques—if you’re up to it.”

  Alex laughed. “Any time, Jael. Any time.”

  “Rest up, brother.”

  Jael switched on the doorscreens and went to the desk console, but for some time he only stared at the blank reading screen.

  Alex Ransom. That one was a walking time charge here, and perhaps for the Concord as well. And he might make light of the price he paid to join the Phoenix, but Jael doubted anyone else here had paid a higher price. And he wondered what he asked in return.

  PERSONAL FILE: E. RADEK CASE NOTES: 7 AUGUS 3253

  SUBJECT: ALEX RANSOM

  I had an opportunity for a short conversation with Alex this evening—he’s taking full advantage of my offer to use my inputs on the Richard Lamb files and prefers to have me on hand to augment them with personal comments and assessments. It’s sometimes rather exhausting. And that impersonal attitude is evident now even in his approach to Rich’s work, if not to Rich himself.

  Alex’s immersion in the Phoenix is becoming a borderline obsessive tendency. He has ceased to refer to his family by familiar names entirely, and when he refers to himself as “Lord Alexand,” it is in no way synonymous with “I.” This is consistent with the identity reorientation demanded of him, but he’s using that to buttress his repressive systems. I suppose I should be pleased with the success of the reorientation, and for the Society I am, but I’m concerned about the cathexis associated with Adrien Eliseer. It’s indicative that from the time of his arrival in Fina, he showed a healthy interest in his family and House, but has yet to ask what effect his “death” had on the Lady Adrien.

  I haven’t discussed the latent schism within the Phoenix with him yet, and I won’t until after he’s completed GT. However, the potentials haven’t escaped him. In anything related to politics, he’s a sensitive observer.

  Jael joined Alex in GT today, and I learned of their first encounter from Jobe Howe in Physical Training. Jobe was a SportsMaster before he joined us, and I was concerned when he said Alex’s style showed elements of formal karatt, which he wouldn’t learn in Confleet. But Jobe has created his own rationale for this apparent anomaly: Alex was training to be a SportsMaster before being conscripted into Confleet. It’s interesting, of course, that he was aware of Alex’s Confleet experience. I doubt Predis intended to broadcast that so widely when he let it “slip” to Val and the Barrets.

  Jobe is jubilant, thinking he may have found a fencing partner in this supposed fellow SportsMaster. Jobe’s been trying to interest someone in the Sport of Lords since he joined us. I must warn Alex. For him to show unusual skill at fencing could be too revealing, and Jobe is so outgoing and aggressive, he might box him in.

  I’m pleased, however, that Alex has discovered our gymnasium, and I’ve no doubt he’ll take full advantage of it. Adjusting to the confinements of Fina hasn’t been easy for him. Beyond that, physical preparedness is important to his ego percept. I only hope he never suffers a serious disability; he’d find it difficult to tolerate.

  3.

  The sign by the doorway read SECURITY AND INTELLIGENCE 10: WILLS.

  Jael glanced at Alex and touched the doorcon. The door-screens went off, and the man behind the desk inside the small room pushed his chair back and rose.

  “Come in. I’m Haral Wills. Most people call me Willie.”

  Jael studied him—wiry, tight-knit, dark eyes that didn’t miss anything.

  Alex said, “I doubt we need to introduce ourselves to you, Willie. I’m sure you know everything worth knowing about us.”

  Wills nodded, answering Alex’s smile with his own.

  “Right, Alex, I probably do. At least, from SI’s point of view.” Then he glanced around the austere room—which Jael noted did not have the usual mirrored walls—and said, “Well, this may not look like a classroom, and it isn’t. This is my office, and all you’re going to get from me is a sort of introduction to SI and some of the things you’ll be learning about when I turn you over to Marg Conly.”

  Jael put in, “And maybe a close eye-over?”

  Wills laughed. “What did you expect, Jael? But this is going to be a short session; I’ve got a meeting in a few minutes. You won’t mind, though, when you meet Marg. But I warn you, she’s happily married, and her husband’s big enough to take on both of you at once.”

  Jael gave that a laugh as Wills came around to the front of the desk, hands on his hips in a ready stance that seemed to come naturally.

  “All right, first I’ll show you some of the mechanical devices you’ll need to know about, either for protection, acquiring information, or maintaining contact with other Phoenix agents or your HQ, wherever that happens to be. In SI we deal with situations pertaining outside Fina primarily, but even if you’re assigned to Fina, you’re expected to know how to handle yourself as a double ident. The people you’ll have to watch out for—House security, other House agents, and the SSB—use a lot of the same kind of equipment, so one of your problems is to learn how to recognize it as well as use it. I’ve set up a demonstration for you. A test, really, to see how good your eyes are.”

  Alex asked, “What are we looking for?”

  “That’s the test.” He moved a pace away from the desk. “But I’m making it easy; what you’re looking for is all on me. I want you to tell me what I’m carrying on my person that wouldn’t be considered normal wearing apparel.”

  Alex glanced at Jael. “I think this is going to be your kind of gim.” Then, to Wills, “How close an inspection are we allowed?”

  “Close as you want, but visual only. I’ll give you one minute; that’s more than you’ll usually get under real working conditions.” He looked at his watch. “Beginning now.”

  While the two of them circled him, Wills stood patiently, hands still on his hips, feet a little apart. The slacsuit was skimp for cover, but there were pockets, the waistband, shoes. And there were enough subtle bulges and anomalies so that Jael knew if he met Haral Wills in the Outside, he’d give him a long look and maybe a little space.

  Finally, Wills checked his watch, gave them a few seconds, then said, “All right, time’s up. What did you find?”

  Jael asked of Alex, “You want first go?”

/>   He laughed briefly and shook his head. “It’s all yours, Jael.”

  He nodded and turned to Wills. “Well, off the top, I don’t know exactly what that ring does, but it’s part of your arsenal.”

  “What makes you think so?”

  “You aren’t a body-decker. Some kind of memento ring, maybe, but that rock—what is it, anyway? If it’s supposed to be a moonstone, it’s a sad synth.”

  Wills laughed at that. “You’re right about it being part of my arsenal, and it is a synthetic.”

  “May I see it?”

  He nodded and took it off, and when Jael reached for it, it slipped and fell to the floor. A try at catching it deflected it under Wills’s feet, and that left it to him to go for it. Wills bent to retrieve it, then handed it to him, accepting his apology with a hint of skepticism.

  “It has more than one function,” Wills commented as Jael inspected it, then passed it on to Alex. “That ‘sad synth’ of a stone is a lens. The ring puts out a modulated light frequency as well as an audio mod-stim. It’s a conditioning aid. This particular ring also carries a spring-activated stun dart, so be careful with it, Alex. We use standard Conpol or SSB drugs, plus a few we’ve developed ourselves. The effects range from a short blackout to instant fatality. You’ll learn more about the available drugs later. All right, Jael, what else caught your eye?”

  Jael gave him another quick survey, noting the way he perched on the desk, looking fully relaxed, and he was, but he unconsciously kept the leverage right in case he had to move fast. A straight blade; he’d be that in the Outside.

  “Well, you’re wearing body armor under your clothes, you’ve got a ’ceiver in one ear, a laser in a spring sheath in your right sleeve, which tells me you’re a right-hander. You have an underarm sheath—flat; probably a blade. That watch has a hidden compartment and probably a few other special features; it’s not a standard Concord product. Your ’com probably isn’t either, but I haven’t seen it, so that’s just a guess. And your shoes—the seam isn’t standard. I don’t know what you have in hide there, but if we were facing off in unfriendly stats, I’d keep an eye on your feet.”