Timothy Zahn - Angelmass

Chandris nodded, wondering what the hell he was talking about. But his tone and body language were more than clear. "I take it you don't put much stock in the Acchaa theory?"

His lip twisted. "Hardly. The whole idea of good and evil coming in bite-sized chunks makes no sense at all. It throws free will all to hell, for one thing."

"So what's the alternative?"

He locked eyes with her. "That the angels are alien intelligences," he said bluntly. "Either separately or together, as part of some kind of hive mind. And that this plan to flood the Empyrean with them—a plan put together by people who already have angels hanging around their necks—is nothing less than an invasion."

"I see," Chandris said, startled by the sheer intensity of the outburst. She wouldn't have tagged him as the sort to feel strongly about anything. "What exactly does this Acchaa theory say, anyway?"

He stared at her... and, abruptly, he seemed to remember just who it was he was talking to. His face tightened up with the unmistakable look of someone who's just sent a secret rolling across the floor.

"It says that good and evil come in tiny packages," he said, a note of resignation in his tone.

Probably decided that trying to backpedal now would just make things worse. "Like light comes in packages called photons, and electric charge comes in multiples of the electron charge." He lifted his eyebrows slightly. "Is this over your head?"

"I know all about photons and electrons, thank you," she said coolly. Or at least she knew what the files on Angelmass had told her about them. "So how exactly do you hammer good and evil into little packages?"

"Ask the people who believe the theory," Kosta said. "I'm not even convinced anymore that this socalled angel effect really exists. Maybe it's nothing but hype and placebo. People believe so hard in the things that they go ahead and make themselves change."

Except that Chandris hadn't known the Daviees had hidden an angel near her. And she certainly hadn't wanted to do any changing. "No," she said. "They work, all right. I've seen it. But this package-of-good stuff is crazy."

"Hey, don't argue with me," Kosta growled. "It's not my theory."

"Oh, right," Chandris said dryly. "Your theory is that they're tiny little invaders, here to overthrow the Empyrean."

His face darkened. "You ever hear of viruses? You get a handful of the wrong kind in your body and they'll kill you where you stand. Size by itself doesn't define a threat."

"Yeah, but if you don't have size you'd better have numbers," Chandris countered. "Those viruses of yours aren't just a handful anymore when they kill you. Even I know that much."

"Do you, now?" Kosta said. "Then maybe you'd also be interested in knowing that the number of angels your hunterships are finding out there has been increasing."

Chandris frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Just what I said. There are more angels available for capture than there were even three years ago.

More than can be explained by numbers of ships or better equipment."

"So maybe it's because Angelmass is getting smaller and spitting out more of everything. You ever think of that?"

She had the immense satisfaction of watching him trip over his own tongue, a look of total flabbergastment flooding over his face. It made those tedious hours of wading through the Gazelle's Angelmass files all worthwhile. "Where did you learn about quantum black holes?" he asked at last.

"I read about them," she said sweetly. "What, you think you can't learn things without going to some fancy school somewhere?"

He snorted. "Certainly not some of the things you probably know."

Chandris gave him a long, cool look. Then, deliberately, she got to her feet. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Kosta," she said, icily polite. "And for your rich expertise. If I ever have any more questions, I'll be sure and go somewhere else." She turned to go—

"Just a minute."

She turned back. "Yes?"

His face was a mass of conflicting emotions. "I have to ask you," he said at last. "When you ran me down at the spaceport you were wearing a fancy dress—blue and silver, I think it was, with embroidery or something all over it. But when you showed up later you were wearing just a plain white dress. Where did you get it?"

She eyed him, automatically searching the question for a trap. Self-incrimination, maybe? But, no, he already knew who she was. And anyway, he didn't strike her as smart enough for even that much finesse. "I didn't get it," she told him. "I made it. Fancy dresses like that always have fancy linings to match. All I had to do was cut the outer part of the dress away and do some trimming and shortening. It's not hard if you know what you're doing."

"Mm," he said, nodding thoughtfully. "But don't the seams show?"

"You can turn it inside out," she said. "But you don't always have to. People usually see what they want to." She hesitated; but it was just too tempting to pass up. "Like if you want to see alien invasions, for instance."

An instant later she was sorry she'd said it. His head twitched back, almost as if he'd been slapped, and for just a second he looked like a school kid who'd been laughed at by his friends.

But only for an instant. "There's an invasion coming, all right," he said softly, his face turning to stone as he stood up. "One way or another."

He brushed past her and left the lounge, stomping his way across the foyer toward the wide staircase.

Chandris followed more slowly, and caught just a glimpse of him at the top of the stairs before he disappeared from sight.

For a moment she stood there, watching the spot where he'd disappeared and wondering just what the hell that had been about. A cloud-head and a half, that was for sure. And reeked three ways from dead on this invasion stuff on top of it. You bet, she promised him silently, that I'll stay away from you. She'd had more than her fill of reeked cloud-heads back in the Barrio. The last thing she needed was to start hunting them down on Seraph, too.

She took a deep breath, exhaled him out of her mind. And speaking of hunting, she really ought to be getting back to the Gazelle.

Crossing the foyer, she headed for the exit.

Great, Kosta snarled to himself as he stomped down the corridor. Just great. It's so rare to see someone get the chance to make seven different kinds of fool of himself in a single ten-minute slot.

And especially rare to see him succeed so brilliantly at all of them. It's an absolute pleasure to watch you work, sir.

He reached his office and slammed his way in. Gyasi's presence at that particular moment—his presence, and his inevitable questions—would have completed the whole thing to perfection. But the laughing fates had missed that one; the office was empty.

He flopped down into his chair, but bounded up a second later, far too agitated to sit still. Stepping over to the window, he stood glaring out, pounding the back of his right fist gently into his left palm.

It was her. It had to be. The woman was a jinx, pure and simple. A jinx with the knack of twisting the universe straight out from under him every time he got within ten meters of her. Woman, hell—she probably wasn't even out of her teens yet.

Below, on the walkway, a movement caught his eye. A dark-haired figure in a huntership-type jumpsuit.

Yeah, you'd better get out of here, he thought bitterly in her direction. I ever see you again, I will call the police down on you. A huntership crewer—sure she was. She was nothing more than a rotten little con artist; even he could see that. A con artist with a knack for twisting him around her finger...

He took a deep breath, let it out in a snort. It would be nice to believe that. But down deep, he knew the trouble wasn't with her at all.