Timothy Zahn - Angelmass

Forsythe countered. "They're also not going to give up the services of three warships for several months unless they stand to gain something equally valuable from it. They're up to something... and in my opinion, that something can only be a pre-invasion reconnaissance."

"Your opinion, and that of former EmDef Commander Pirbazari as well, I note," Rodrez of Sadhai rumbled, his fingers playing across the scan buttons on his display. "I see he co-authored this report."

"He did," Forsythe said. "And I would hope that, given his experience and reputation, his views on military matters would carry even more weight with the High Senate than mine do."

"None of us means to belittle Commander Pirbazari's qualifications," Bjani said. "Nor yours, for that matter. It's simply that, in our opinion, you're both missing the point."

"That point being?"

"That the Pax can't take over the Empyrean," Bjani said, his voice quietly confident. "And that they know it."

Forsythe consciously unclenched his teeth. "Perhaps you've forgotten the first ship they sent in two weeks ago, the Komitadji," he said. "That ship could, in all probability, have taken Lorelei all by itself."

"And what happened to it?" Bjani shrugged. "It failed to make even a dent in the EmDef forces arrayed against it before being 'pulted."

"That's not victory," Forsythe said bluntly. "That's a holding action. Read your history, Mr.

Bjani—no one has ever given up territorial ambitions just because it looked like it would take some time and effort to achieve them."

"I have read my history, Mr. Forsythe," Bjani said, a slight edge creeping into his voice. "And perhaps territory is indeed what the Pax once wanted. But not anymore. What they want now is profit."

"You've never dealt directly with the Pax," Jossarian murmured from beside Forsythe. "We have; and we understand them. They love money—love it so much, in fact, that their entire political structure is built on that basis. And the leaders are fully aware that to conquer the Empyrean will cost them far more than they stand to gain."

"Normal military tactics simply can't handle the existence of hyperspace nets," Hammura of Seraph put in. "We're like a pre-aircraft mountain nation with only a handful of roads leading in. Easy to defend, incredibly hard to attack."

"Certainly the Pax is up to something," Bjani said. "They're trying to rattle us, hoping we'll get nervous enough to negotiate away concessions they can't win by force." He locked eyes with Forsythe. "But they won't succeed, because we have a strength the Pax can never understand. Our unity. We have no cracks for them to drive wedges into; no factions and jealousies for them to split off and exploit. Unity in mind, and purpose, and heart."

"And all due to the angels," Forsythe muttered, the bitter taste of defeat in his mouth.

"Indeed," Bjani nodded, a small smile on his face. "This is a turning point in mankind's path, Mr.

Forsythe. You've read history. Now watch it being made."

He looked around the table. "Now. Any other new business?"

It took until late that night; but by 11:30 Forsythe finally had his computer system set up to search all information nets and official channels for ongoing research work on angels and Angelmass.

Perhaps, he thought more than once during that long evening, the Pax propaganda was in fact true.

Perhaps the angels really were robbing the Empyrean's leaders of their humanity. He didn't know.

What he did know was that, for whatever reason, the members of the High Senate had lost the ability to fight for their people's best interests. Perhaps for their very survival.

And it was those same leaders who were determined to flood the Empyrean with even more angels.

Leaning back in his chair, Forsythe keyed for a test run-through of his new system. Somewhere out there, buried amid all the studies being done on the angels, there must be something that would give him a handle on stopping this quiet invasion.

He only hoped he could find it before it was too late.

"The first thing you learn out here," Ornina said, stepping over to the table with the dinner trays, "is that for angel hunters patience isn't just a virtue. It's an absolute necessity."

"I'm starting to realize that," Chandris said, accepting her tray.

And then nearly dropping it as yet another horrible crack! snapped through the Gazelle, somewhere behind her head. Like the whole nurking ship was coming apart, over and over and over...

Crack! "Nurk it," she snarled, wincing at the bite she'd just taken out of her tongue. "Don't those ever stop?"

"Not as long as we're near Angelmass," Ornina said, stirring some sugar into her tea. "Just keep reminding yourself that they're completely harmless." She eyed Chandris over the top of her cup.

"And be thankful you are hearing them," she said, her voice going dark. "The only time you don't hear gamma-ray sparks out here is when there's something's seriously wrong with your electronics."

"I'll keep that in mind," Chandris muttered, more sarcastically than she'd meant to be. There was another crack—

Settle down, nurk it, she snarled at herself, wondering what the hell was wrong with her. Less than half a day into this track and she was already ready to pop the cord on it.

Or, rather, would have been ready if there'd been any way to do it. Out here, millions of kilometers from Seraph or anywhere else, there weren't a lot of places to run.

Was that what was bothering her? The fact that there was nowhere to run?

"Sorry about the food quality," Ornina said.

Chandris snapped out of her thoughts, realized she'd been picking idly at the pasty food on her tray.

"It's fine," she said, trying a mouthful.

"You're too generous," Ornina said dryly. "Unfortunately, the diet is another of those things you have to get used to out here. When you spot an angel there's never enough time to get meals or drinks stowed away before you kill ship's rotation and zip off after it. This cheap zero-gee stuff stays with the trays better than real food would—makes the cleanup afterward easier."

"I understand," Chandris said, taking another bite. It was still better than a lot of the meals she'd eaten in her lifetime. "How long before that happens? That we spot an angel, I mean?"

"A few days," Ornina said, digging into her own meal with an enthusiasm that belied her apology for it. Maybe she'd eaten worse in her lifetime, too. "Gabriel's pay scale presupposes that it'll take an average huntership four days out here to capture one."

Four days. Chandris felt her stomach tighten up at the thought. Eleven hours out here and already she was falling apart. And she was supposed to do three and a half more days of it? "What happens if you don't find one in that time?" she asked, though she had a pretty good idea what the answer was going to be.

She was right. "We stay until we do," Ornina said around a mouthful of food. "Sometimes you hit an angel the first hour out of the net; other times you don't find one for a week. It all evens out."

"I see," Chandris murmured. With a sigh, she scooped another mouthful of the paste onto her spoon—

And, abruptly, a wailing siren split the air.

Chandris's teeth spasmed down on the spoon, sending a jolt of pain through her jaw. "What—?"

"Acceleration alarm," Ornina snapped, already on her feet. She slapped the lid down on her cup and charged for the door. "Come on—we've got one."

The Gazelles rotation was gone by the time they reached the control cabin. "Strap in," Hanan barked over his shoulder as Chandris got a grip on her chair and jammed her butt ungracefully down into it.

Ornina, with farther to go to her own seat, was already strapped in. "Here we go—"