Angelmass

by Timothy Zahn

  Perhaps even Seraph itself.

  Was Angelmass intelligent? Kruyrov’s data certainly pointed that direction. Was it evil? They had only Ronyon’s terrified reaction to go by, plus the vicious attacks on the various hunterships. But if the angels were influences for good, even imperfect ones, what else could a mass of antiangels be?

  He didn’t have any answers. But there was one thing that was certain, and that was that they didn’t have much time. Not with Angelmass only four days from Central. Not with the bureaucratic delays that would inevitably slow down any solutions even once the anti-angel’s existence had been proven.

  Not with the Pax war machine already at Lorelei.

  No one else at the Institute could come up with an experimental procedure fast enough. It had to be Kosta’s equipment, and the Daviees’ huntership. And he could certainly not run any experiments from an EmDef prison cell.

  Forsythe was reaching for the door now. “You’re not wearing an angel, High Senator,” Kosta said.

  Forsythe turned back, a puzzled frown on his face. “What are you talking about?” he asked, tapping the gold chain and pendant around his neck. “What do you think this is?”

  “It’s a fake,” Kosta said, studying Forsythe’s face. The man was good, all right, every bit as competent an actor as he’d earlier accused Kosta of being. “Ronyon has the real one.”

  For a long moment the puzzlement persisted. Kosta held the other’s gaze steadily, waiting for him to make his decision. “That’s nonsense,” Forsythe said at last. “You’re grabbing at dust.”

  “I don’t want to expose you, High Senator,” Kosta said quietly. “I imagine this is something they can impeach you for, or whatever it is they do to elected officials here. But I don’t care about that. All I want is to be allowed to go to Angelmass and find out what’s happened to it. Let me go, and I give you my word that I’ll come back and turn myself in.”

  Forsythe’s mouth twisted. “Of course you will.”

  “It’s the truth,” Kosta insisted. To his mild surprise, he realized it really was. “We have to find out what Angelmass is doing—”

  “All you want is to get free so you can bring me down,” Forsythe cut him off harshly. “I’m the only one who can still function through this sheep-like fog the angels have everyone else buried in. If you can destroy me, there won’t be anyone left to oppose the Pax.”

  “High Senator—”

  “Forget it,” Forsythe said. “It won’t work. I won’t let it work.”

  Behind him the door opened, and Pirbazari stepped inside, the two guards visible behind him. “Central’s evacuation has begun, sir,” he told Forsythe. “And we’re ready to take Mr. Kosta.”

  “I’ve changed my mind,” Forsythe said, his voice betraying none of the rage and paranoia that had been there five seconds earlier. “I’m going to keep him locked up in here for the night.”

  Pirbazari blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “It’ll give him time to think about cooperating with us,” Forsythe said. “Tomorrow morning will be soon enough to turn him over to EmDef if he decides not to.”

  Pirbazari shot a look at Kosta, turned his eyes back to Forsythe. “Yes, sir,” he said, still clearly confused. “Ah … you going to leave him cuffed to that chair?”

  Forsythe glanced at his watch; automatically, Kosta glanced at his. It was nearly ten o’clock. “Have someone bring in a cot,” Forsythe said. “Then disconnect or disable all the computer and communications systems, and pull everything out of the desk safe. Have someone reverse the door lock so that it locks the room from the outside, and post a couple of guards in the outer office area.”

  He looked at Kosta. “After that, go ahead and unlock him. There’s nothing in here he can bother.”

  Kosta took a careful breath. “High Senator—”

  “You have until morning, Mr. Kosta,” Forsythe said softly. “I’d advise you sleep on it.”

  CHAPTER 39

  The entire command deck crew was cheering as Commodore Lleshi crossed to the lift platform at the rear of the balcony. He acknowledged their acclamation with quiet nods and an occasional half smile, recognizing their psychological need for celebration but at the same time knowing full well that the war was far from over. Like all the other rebellious colonies that had defied Pax rule over the years, the Empyrean would resist to the end.

  It was his job as commander to bring them to that end as quickly as possible.

  Telthorst, as expected, was waiting for him as the lift platform reached the balcony. “The plan worked as you predicted, Commodore,” he said as the memory-metal cage unwrapped itself. His voice and expression, Lleshi noted, were utterly neutral. “My congratulations.”

  “Thank you,” Lleshi said, as if the other had actually meant it. “Campbell?”

  “The Empyreal ships have scattered, sir,” Campbell reported briskly. “Most of them are retreating toward Seraph. A few of the more damaged are heading off toward a small solar observation platform that’s a few hours closer.”

  “The Harmonic?”

  ‘Took off toward Seraph as soon as your boarding party left,” Campbell said.

  “I presume we can catch it again if we need to,” Telthorst rumbled.

  “I’m sure we can,” Lleshi said, stepping past the Adjutor toward the tactical display, deliberately turning his back on the man. Telthorst had fought bitterly against Lleshi’s Trojan Horse plan; and once it had succeeded, he had been just as vehemently opposed to Lleshi turning the liner and its shipful of potential hostages loose again. The man was never satisfied with anything. “Any signs of resistance?”

  “Not yet,” Campbell said. “There’s a lot of communications traffic going on around the planet, but so far nothing in the way of ship movements.”

  “Except that one,” Telthorst said pointedly.

  “Which one was that?” Lleshi asked.

  Campbell shot a look at Telthorst. ‘The system’s main catapult is on the far side of Seraph,” he said, touching a key. A flashing yellow light appeared on the tactical, trailing Seraph in its orbit. “So far, we haven’t spotted any serious activity there.”

  “That will certainly change in the next few hours,” Telthorst put in. “They’ll surely try to evacuate some of their leaders and assets from the system. I strongly recommend we send a squadron of fighters ahead to try to cut off any such move.”

  “Recommendation noted,” Lleshi said, mentally sending the suggestion straight to the shredder. He’d seen what Empyreal Defense warships could do, and he had no intention of putting any of his fighters outside the Komitadji’s defense zone on such a foolish mission. As far as he was concerned, if Seraph’s leaders wanted to cut and run they were welcome to do so.

  And if they wanted to stuff their pockets on their way out, they were welcome to do that, too. There were few things that demoralized a populace more than having their leaders run out on them in a crisis, particularly leaders who looted the public treasury before taking to the hills. In Lleshi’s experience, a demoralized populace usually meant a quicker and more stable surrender. “Continue.”

  “That’s the main catapult,” Campbell went on, tapping more keys. The flashing yellow light vanished and was replaced by two flashing green ones: the first right beside the circle representing Seraph, the second much farther out in the system. “Again, no activity there. But we’ve also got a second, smaller net/catapult system in close Seraph orbit. We’re not absolutely sure—the readings are odd—but Theory Group thinks it’s hooked up in a binary link to a similar net/catapult out at Angelmass.”

  A binary link between net and catapult? That was a neat trick. “And you saw a ship head out from there?”

  “Yes, sir, about fifteen minutes ago,” Campbell said. “Angelmass is twenty-two light-minutes from our current position, so if the ship did indeed go there we’ll be able to see its arrival about seven minutes from now. I’ve got a telescope watching.”

  He threw a sideways lo
ok at Telthorst. “Adjutor Telthorst’s belief is that they’ve gone out to sabotage the Angelmass net.”

  “Really,” Lleshi said, frowning at Telthorst. “To what end?”

  “Obviously, to keep us away from it,” Telthorst said tightly. “We’ve already agreed their best defense is those sandwich-metal hulls of theirs, and we know that all their angel hunterships are equipped with those.”

  “And you’re suggesting that they’re gathering the hunterships at Angelmass into an assault force?’ Lleshi asked mildly.

  “Is that so ridiculous a notion?” Telthorst shot back. “Or had you forgotten all those armed mining ships they threw at us in Lorelei system?”

  “Though not very effectively, as I recall,” Lleshi reminded him. Still, he had to concede it wasn’t as ridiculous an idea as it sounded. Empyreal Defense might well believe that a group of armed ships popping through a net in low Seraph orbit could catch the Komitadji by surprise. “Campbell?”

  “We’ve quartered the region looking for ships,” Campbell said. “So far, we haven’t found any indication that there’s anything out there, let alone an organized task force.”

  “But you yourself admit that the glare may be washing out the view,” Telthorst countered. “I still maintain that it doesn’t make sense for them to not to have at least some working ships out there.”

  “Show me,” Lleshi ordered, crossing over to his station and sitting down. He swiveled his chair around to the main screen just as Campbell pulled up the telescope image of Angelmass.

  It was every bit as awesome as he had expected. He’d seen one other black hole in his travels; a much larger, much calmer one, sitting quietly in space like an invisible spider in an unseen web, content to draw matter spiraling into the darkness lurking behind the veil of its event horizon.

  Angelmass was the exact opposite. A tiny pinprick in the fabric of space, it spat out light and radiation and particles with all the fury and power of a small star. The radiation drove away any bit of matter or solar wind that ventured too close, flashing or ionizing all matter farther away. With the sunscreens blocking out the brightest part of the central core, the visual effect was that of a large dead spot in space surrounded by a wide band of hazy light. Like the rings of Saturn or Demolian, perhaps.

  Or like a halo. A halo around Angelmass.

  With an effort, Lleshi drew his mind away from poetic images and back to the hard, cold reality of war. Campbell was right: there were no signs of ships out there.

  Unfortunately, so was Telthorst. The halo glare of ionized gas was just enough to possibly conceal fighter-sized craft running dark or stealthed.

  Fortunately, the solution was simple enough. “Do you have orbital data for the Seraph catapult?” he asked.

  “We have the general data,” Campbell said. “It’s an equatorial orbit, a couple hundred klicks up. We can get it more exactly once we get closer.”

  “Do so,” Lleshi ordered. “When we arrive we’ll take up an orbit directly behind it, as far back as we can get without losing visual contact. Will that be acceptable, Adjutor?” he added, swiveling his chair to face Telthorst.

  “I suppose so,” Telthorst said. “At least, for now.”

  Lleshi glanced at Campbell, caught the brief sour tightening of the other’s lips. Campbell knew it, too: Telthorst would never be satisfied. With anything.

  “SeTO, put the tactical back up,” he said, settling back in his chair. “Let’s go in.”

  It was nearly 10:30, and the stars were shining dimly through the haze of the Magasca city lights, when Chandris arrived at the Government Building.

  She made her way up the fifteen wide marble steps leading to the main entrance, grousing at each one along the way. It had been over two hours now since Kosta had pulled his disappearing act from the hospital, and a long and weary process of elimination had finally brought her here. If he wasn’t inside, she was completely out of ideas.

  But she had a feeling he was. A very bad feeling. Kosta, noble and idealistic and stupid, had already talked once about turning himself in. Now, still caked with his own blood from Trilling’s attack, he’d apparently gone ahead and taken the plunge.

  All of it to protect her and Hanan and Ornina, undoubtedly. Never mind that they’d all agreed he should keep his mouth shut for now. Never mind that the threat of Angelmass far outweighed whatever anyone might think the Pax could possibly be doing with or through him.

  If there was anything left after High Senator Forsythe finished with him, she told herself darkly, she was going to personally feed it to the fish.

  At this hour of the night, of course, the outer door was locked. One more annoyance to add to her list She had it open in thirty seconds and slipped inside. The door leading into the main part of the building from the reception area was also locked. She got through that one even faster.

  She had expected the place to be dark and essentially deserted. To her surprise, the lights were blazing, with a fair number of people still buzzing about the halls and offices. All of them seemed to be hurrying or talking together in urgent, hushed tones, some doing both at once.

  It was highly disconcerting, rather like walking into a bank with a cutting torch and set of burglar tools, only to discover a police convention being held on the premises. But old habits quickly kicked in, turning on the air of arrogant importance that had gotten her into many places where she didn’t belong, past people who should have known better. A glance at the directory as she passed, and she was on her way to the fifth floor and Forsythe’s temporary office complex.

  Deep down, she was still hoping that Kosta had somehow come to his senses in time and kept his identity secret. But the more people she strode past, and the more bits of conversation she caught, the more it became clear that these people weren’t here so late just for the overtime pay. They were angry, worried, and frightened.

  And the word “Pax” kept coming up.

  Which meant that Chandris was too late. Kosta had indeed confessed; and chances were he’d already been transferred to some secure prison somewhere. Like the two hours of searching that had gone before it, this little side trip was starting to look very much like a waste of time.

  Still, as long as she was here, she might as well keep going. At the very least, maybe she could shake loose some information from some gullible clerk. Arriving at Forsythe’s office suite, she stepped up to the plate glass wall that separated it from the corridor.

  She had expected this to be the center of all the activity she’d passed through on her way here—after all, unmasking a Pax spy was the kind of publicity coup that even a High Senator didn’t stumble across every day. If Forsythe was any kind of politician he ought to be milking it for all it was worth.

  But once again, her expectations turned out to be oddly off target. The office suite was only dimly lit, and virtually empty.

  For a moment she stood outside the glass, peering in. The suite was arranged a little like Amberson Toomes’s office complex: a large outer area with a handful of doors leading from the back walls into what were presumably private offices. Where Toomes’s outer office had been the province of only the one receptionist, though, the room now facing her was crowded with a dozen desks and workstations. A common work area, then. Briefly, she wondered how much of the space was Forsythe’s and how much was controlled by other local governmental agencies. Each of the doors at the back had a nameplate, but she was too far away and the light too dim for her to read them.

  There were only three people in the room. Two of them stood flanking one of the rear doors, their postures and the guns belted to their sides marking them as guards. Chandris had never seen these particular men before, though the insignia on their jackets marked them as local governmental security officers.

  The third person, however, was a very familiar face. He was sitting slightly hunched over at one of the desks, the glow from the computer display playing across a very troubled expression.

  It was Forsythe’
s aide, Ronyon.

  There was no way she could pop the door lock, not with two bored guards watching her every move. Fortunately, she didn’t need to. She started to knock on the glass, remembered in time that Ronyon was deaf, and instead gave a sweeping wave.

  The movement caught Ronyon’s eye. He looked up, and abruptly the frown lines on his face cleared into a kind of eager hope. He scrambled to his feet, an awkward-looking motion with someone that big, and hurried across the room to the door. He unfastened the lock and pulled the door open, his free hand gesturing excitedly.

  “Wait a minute,” Chandris said, holding up a hand as she stepped into the suite. “Not so fast,” she added, making sure to enunciate the words clearly. Ronyon could read lips, she knew, but she wasn’t sure how well he could do in the suite’s semidarkness.

  Still, he would certainly be better reading her lips than she would be reading his hands. She’d leafed through a signing dictionary a couple of days ago, while sitting in the Gazelle’s storage room waiting for Kosta to try to steal the Daviees’ spare angel, and she had all the signs memorized. But knowing all the words of a foreign language didn’t necessarily mean she could understand a native who was speaking it. This was likely to be a long process. “Come on, let’s sit down,” she invited, taking his arm and coaxing him away from the door.

  Okay, he signed, letting her lead him to the nearest work station. Chandris would have preferred to go back to his desk, so that she could see what he’d been reading on his computer, but it was a little too close to the guards for comfort. Even if they couldn’t read Ronyon’s sign language, they would probably be able to hear her side of the conversation from back there.

  And she was beginning to suspect that this was one conversation she didn’t want anyone eavesdropping on.