Timothy Zahn - Angelmass

But the older Commodore Lleshi could see clearly the road the universe was taking. The Adjutors had been winning steadily for the past thirty years, gathering more and more power and influence to themselves. They had slowly and methodically trained everyone from the lowliest Pax citizen to the highest members of the Supreme Council itself to think solely in terms of costs and profits and losses.

And Lleshi was tired of fighting them.

Perhaps Telthorst would prove to be a competent commander. Probably not. But either way, at this point it wasn't worth a battle that would tear his crew apart in a power struggle. Certainly not in the middle of action against a hostile force.

Because no matter how incompetent Telthorst turned out to be, even he couldn't do anything to seriously threaten the Komitadji, not even with all the help the Empyreal Defense Force could muster. Perhaps if he embarrassed himself badly enough, it would at least slow the Adjutors down in their rush to total power.

So let the Adjutor have his moment of glory. In the meantime, the real commander of the Komitadji had an assault to plan. Signing off on the fuel reports, he keyed for the latest reports from Sensor and Tactical and began to read.

Chandris's familiarity with huntership procedure and personnel had gotten them a tow car without any questions being asked. It had taken a little more finesse to get them a spot at the launch strip, where an amazing lineup of ships was waiting, but she'd managed to pull that one off, too.

But it was quickly apparent that no amount of charm was going to get them past the Angelmass catapult.

"You must be kidding, Gazelle," the operator said, his voice firm. "Don't you read your own agency's reports? All travel to Angelmass Central has been shut down. Period; end of comment; close file."

"Then I suggest you reopen that file," Chandris said acidly. "This is a rescue mission, set up and bluethree-coded by High Senator Forsythe himself."

"A what?" the operator demanded. He still sounded firm, but Kosta could hear a trickle of doubt now in his voice.

"What, your ears need cleaning?" Chandris said. "A rescue mission. Someone finally counted heads on the evac shuttle and realized they left someone on Central. We're going out to get her."

"Oh, hell," the operator muttered. "Who is it?"

"Comm supervisor named Jiselle," Chandris said. "You know her?"

"Met her once," the operator muttered. "Not worth rescuing, if you ask me."

"High Senator Forsythe apparently doesn't share your opinion," Chandris said. "Now, are you going to 'pult us, or do we have to drag him out of his meeting and have him personally explain to you what exactly a blue-three means?"

"Okay, okay, come on in," the operator said. "I'm calibrating now."

"Thank you. Out."

Chandris snapped off the comm and got the Gazelle moving. "Jiselle?" Kosta asked.

"The comm supervisor I talked to after we were attacked and I had to bring Hanan back in a hurry,"

Chandris explained.

"And the blue-three?"

"I copied the authorization codes from Forsythe's cyl before I gave it back," she said. "I figured they might come in handy someday. So, what do you think? Did he fall for it, or is he whistling up the watchdogs?"

Kosta shook his head. "You're the expert on human reactions," he reminded her. "What do you think?"

"I don't know," she said, peering at the displays. "He sounded convinced; but you can never tell with that sort. He might stay rolled over, or he might just as easily decide to check it out."

Kosta grimaced. "And if he calls Forsythe's office to check on that blue-three, we're dead."

"Only if he gets through to Forsythe himself before we 'pult," Chandris said. "If we can get aboard Central before the cord goes pop, we should be able to shut down the net and keep anyone from coming after us."

"So the plan is to get through as fast as we can?"

"Right, only without looking too obvious about it," Chandris agreed. "Of course, with a rescue mission we're supposed to be in a hurry anyway. I'd say we've got a pretty fair chance of making it."

"Okay," Kosta said. "I just wish the odds were better than just 'pretty fair.' "

"You want certainties, go into theology," Chandris said, studying her monitors. "I just hope none of these warships takes it into his head to take a look at us."

Kosta blinked. "Warships?"

"Sure look like that to me," Chandris said. "But hey, you're the expert on military hardware."

Kosta leaned closer to his displays, his fingers fumbling for the magnification control. Preoccupied with the Angelmass problem, he hadn't even focused on the other ships flying around them. But now that he actually took a good look at them...

"You're right," he said, the back of his neck tingling. Last night, Forsythe had talked about a suspected Pax invasion of Lorelei. Could Commodore Lleshi's task force have made it to Seraph already? "I don't like this."

"Just stay cool," Chandris advised. "They're EmDef ships; we're an EmDef rescue mission. Just one big happy family. But if they hail us, let me do the talking."

"Right," Kosta murmured, his eyes flicking across the various displays as he adjusted the views. If there was a Pax task force on its way, and if it was close enough to be in deceleration mode, there ought to be a set of visible drive glows out there somewhere.

He was still searching, wondering if the glow was being hidden by one of the ships blocking his view, when Chandris spoke again. "Okay, get ready," she said. "Here we go." There was the usual almost-felt jerk as the catapult threw them across Seraph system—

And abruptly a blaze of light exploded from the displays.

"What in—?" Kosta yelped.

"It's Angelmass," Chandris snapped. She did something to her board, and the light faded from painful to merely intense, then vanished completely into comfortable darkness as a small black spot positioned itself over the center of the blaze. "Sorry—the sunscreens hadn't been recalibrated."

"They shouldn't have had to be," Kosta said, his eyes flicking over the numbers. "At least, not this much. Oh, hell."

"What?" Chandris demanded.

"Take a look at the proximity numbers," Kosta said. "Angelmass is... friz. No more than a couple thousand kilometers out."

Chandris hissed between her teeth. "That close?"

"That close," Kosta told her grimly. "It's not only on the move, it's picking up speed."

"Then we'd better get this kickshow on its feet," Chandris said. From behind Kosta came the roar of the engines, and he felt himself being pressed back into his seat. "We'll go around and dock at the catapult end—that's where you'll be doing your work."

"Right," Kosta muttered. "Let's just hope they left the door unlocked."

"The ships are nearly in position, High Senator," General Roshmanov reported, crossing to where Forsythe and Pirbazari were sitting and pulling over a chair for himself. "Another twenty minutes, max."

"How soon until the Komitadji is in combat range?" Pirbazari asked.

Roshmanov shrugged uncomfortably as he sat down. "That depends on how destructive they want to be," he said. "We know the Pax has long-range subnuclear missiles that can probably take out a million square kilometers at a shot. A dozen of those properly placed, and there would be precious little left of Seraph for them to conquer."

Forsythe felt his stomach tighten. "Fortunately, that's not their style."

"Not their preferred style, anyway," Roshmanov agreed. "Though I suppose that if we make enough trouble they might switch to that out of pure spite."

"The Pax runs on profit, not spite," Pirbazari said. "Besides, I don't think we have to worry about being that much trouble."

"No," Roshmanov conceded heavily. "I'm afraid we don't."