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
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
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