"That's absurd!" Phelan looked at Cyrilla for an explanation.
"Not at all. By the time a warrior is thirty, he is facing competition from sibkos that are a generation behind him. By age forty, he fights against children from his own loins. He is at a definite disadvantage."
"But my father was more than forty years old when I was born!"
"And you are clearly superior to him, quineg?"Cyrilla looked at Natasha for confirmation, but the Black Widow laughed lightly and shook her head.
Phelan blushed. "Someday, maybe, if I've got a stiff tailwind behind me and he's got one arm tied behind his back. God, this is crazy. At thirty, a warrior starts his slide down!" The young man half-closed his eyes. "I take it, though, that a warrior who has won a Bloodname is on a fast track and stays up longer?"
Cyrilla nodded. "And he is guaranteed a place in the Clan breeding program."
Phelan nodded slowly. "Ah, this puts many things into perspective. It explains Vlad's reaction when he discovered that I claimed a Jal Ward as an ancestor. It also explains why he welcomed me to the House of Ward during the adoption ceremony." He chuckled lightly at the memory of the ceremony. "It must have really burned him to be the one who had to welcome me after my adoption."
Cyrilla smiled broadly. "Jal Ward left with the Star League troops in his father's place during the Exodus. He was one of the loyalists who fought with Nicholas Kerensky. He, his siblings, and all their descendants are eligible to make a claim on the Ward Bloodnames. We trace the bloodline through maternity. Because your grandfather married a cousin who carried the Ward blood means you are a member of the House of Ward."
Phelan frowned. "If this is so, why am I called Phelan Wolf?"
"Two reasons." Natasha ticked each off on her fingers as she explained. "First, anyone who is adopted into a Clan's Warrior caste—an event about as rare as Candace Liao and her sister Romano exchanging a civil word—receives the Clan name as his surname."
Phelan held a hand up. "Then Jaime Wolf and his brother Joshua were adopted in the Wolf Clan's Warrior caste."
At the mention of Joshua Wolf, Phelan saw pain arc through Natasha's eyes. "Yes," she said, composing herself immediately. "Their father 'married' outside the Warrior caste and got two sons on his wife. He petitioned for their adoption into the Warrior caste so his sons could fight beside him if they proved worthy. And so they did.
"However, the second reason you are not addressed with the surname of Ward is because you have not won that right." Natasha gave him a big grin. "Yet. And that is the main reason Vlad hates you so thoroughly. You are his big competition for the next time a Ward bloodname becomes available."
"What? How could we win Bloodnames? The both of us are too young. There must be thousands of warriors with better claims, and the skills to win the claim."
Cyrilla laughed lightly and shot a glance at the Black Widow. "Natasha won her Bloodname at the age of twenty-two. It was unprecedented at the time, and is a mark still un-conquered in the years she has spent in the Successor States. Ulric Kerensky won his Bloodname at the age of thirty, about fifteen years ago. I won my Bloodname at thirty-six— Tasha always said I was a late bloomer—and have held it for more than forty years."
Natasha patted Cyrilla on the shoulder. "Phelan, you and Vlad are not too young to become involved in the contest the next time a Bloodname becomes open. All the Bloodname houses maintain a list of individuals deemed worthy of competing. The process for selecting and filling positions is arcane and difficult to explain, but consists mainly of nominations by the other Bloodnamed members of the House. They choose their candidates based on performance of duties, scores in testing, and reputation. Though Vlad's performance in the invasion, including your capture, has certainly enhanced his standing, you have attracted enough attention to make it possible to make the list as well. Remember, with the youth bias, burning bright and fast is a big advantage."
"Is making the nomination list the only way to be considered for a Bloodname, Quiaff?"
Both women exchanged glances. "Neg," Cyrilla answered. "Because politics has a way of excluding the worthy at times, there is a provision that at least one candidate in each Bloodname contest be selected through a series of grueling and often deadly combats. Though many have won their way onto the list in that manner, they often get so torn up during the preliminaries that they cannot perform well in the actual contest."
Phelan chewed his lower lip. "With so many Clansfolk considering me an inferior, my only chance of making the list is probably through the preliminary battling. But giving any consideration to that is folly, Quiaff?I have not even been accorded full status as a warrior."
Natasha waved away those concerns. "I'll have you up to speed in that department quickly enough. Just remember that Vlad hates and fears you not only because you threaten his chance at a Blopdname, but also because of what you did to him on the Rock. You outsmarted him in combat. Had your 'Mech been the equal of his, your tactics and daring could have killed him. You are the only Ward that Vlad is not certain he can destroy. Be careful he does not find a way to kill you beforeyou two ever meet in a Bloodname contest."
Soft ringing tones echoed throughout the ship. Cyrilla smiled as the jump-warning sounds faded away. She stood and quickly punched a button that raised a window in the hull. Returning to her seat, she joined the others digging behind their seat cushions for the restraining straps. Once buckled in, she turned her chair to face the porthole.
A set of five tones sounded, then the Dire WolfsKearny-Fuchida drive engaged, warping the space around the JumpShip. At that moment, Phelan felt as though the universe had folded in on itself a thousand times, smashing him down and compacting him into the space of an atom. The light from the stars outside the window expanded until it was as white as a viewport into a blizzard.
Just as suddenly, the universe unfolded again like a huge origami flower. The disk of white filling the viewport fragmented into countless small star dots, and Phelan rubbed his eyes to erase the afterimage. In the space of a heartbeat, the Dire Wolfhad hurled itself more than thirty light years away from the realm he had once called home.
Cyrilla punched the release button on her restraints and stood framed in the viewport. She smiled, then turned to point toward the blue-green ball striated with white that showed through the window.
"Here we are, Phelan. Welcome to Strana Mechty. Welcome to your new home."
3
Wolf's Dragoons General Headquarters, Outreach
Sarna March, Federated Commonwealth
5 February 3051
In a headlong sprint, Hanse Davion dashed from behind a boulder to the ruined wall of an out-building, then threw himself forward in a long, rolling dive as yet another target popped up. Twisting into a squat .ball, he planted his right foot and tried to turn back toward the mannequin, but the loose gravel gave way and sent him sprawling flat on his face. Dammit, I'm getting too old for this nonsense,he cursed inwardly. Spitting out rust-colored dirt, he flopped over onto his back as a series of laser bolts lanced through the air above him.