Timothy Zahn - Angelmass

"Visiting from where?" Ornina asked.

"Clarkston University," Kosta said. "Cairngorm, on Balmoral."

"Never been to Balmoral," Hanan said. "Pretty rocky place, I understand. So tell us about angels."

The sudden shift in subject seemed to catch Kosta off guard. "What do you mean?"

"Angels," Hanan repeated, waving a hand airily. "Weird little particle things everyone's crazy to get their hands on."

"Yes, I know what they are," Kosta said, his voice sounding cautious. Trying to get a feel for Hanan, Chandris decided, and not doing too well. Though from what she'd seen of Kosta that was probably about normal for him.

"Good," Hanan said. "Then you can tell us what they—oops; wait a minute. Here we go."

Keeping half an eye on Kosta, Chandris gave her board one last check. The Gazelle lifted into the air, flew out over the launch dish—

"Friz!" The word that exploded from Kosta's mouth was half bark, half hiss. And on his face...

"I take it, Jereko," Hanan said without turning around, "that you've never watched a launch dish operate."

Kosta's eyes jerked away from the display to the back of Hanan's head... and for a single instant all the normal defenses were gone.

And in his face Chandris saw complete confusion.

The moment passed. "As a matter of fact, I haven't," he said with a fair imitation of calm. "It's... rather spectacular."

"You get used to it," Hanan shrugged, ramping up the Gazelle's drive and making a slight adjustment to the ship's vector. "You were about to tell us about angels."

"I was?" Kosta glanced at Chandris, his expression suddenly wary. Maybe remembering how easily she'd drawn him out on the subject back at the Institute. "I doubt I could tell you anything you don't already know—"

"Tell them about the Acchaa theory," Chandris said.

Kosta looked visual knives at her. She held his gaze, reminding him with lifted eyebrows that she could tell them about it herself.

For a wonder, he got the message. "Acchaa is one of the theories currently in vogue at the Institute," he growled. "Basically, it says that angels are quantized chunks of good."

"Of what?" Ornina asked, frowning.

"Of good," Kosta repeated. "You know: the stuff behind ethics and justice." He looked pointedly at Chandris. "And honesty."

"Doesn't work," Hanan shook his head decisively. "The theory, I mean."

Back when she'd talked to him at the Institute, Chandris remembered, Kosta had seemed to have his own doubts about it. But the challenge in Hanan's tone was apparently too much for him. "I don't think it's all that obvious," he said, bristling a bit.

"Sure it is," Hanan said. "I suppose the idea is that all the quantum black holes that have evaporated since the Big Bang have scattered these angels around the universe like cosmic rays?"

"That's one possibility," Kosta said. He seemed surprised that Hanan had picked up on the idea so quickly. "Another is that the Big Bang itself created the bulk of them."

"Okay," Hanan said. "Either way, we wind up with a fairly even distribution. Right?"

"Right," Kosta said cautiously.

"Fine. So. I presume you're also assuming that the angels that landed on Earth were the cause of all that was good and fair and noble throughout human history."

"Not necessarily all of it," Kosta said. "Individual human beings may be able to add to or subtract from their effect, too. That's how, historically, an overall pattern of good and evil can fluctuate within an area or group."

"You have a mechanism for that?"

"Not yet," Kosta said. "But there's at least one theory about field effects that might allow for humans to affect the angels."

"What about the biochemistry of the angel/personality interaction?"

Kosta pursed his lips. "They're working on that, too."

Hanan nodded. "So we agree there's still a lot to learn. So let me ask you a question. When mankind invented the hyperspace catapult and moved out onto new planets, was there any noticeable change in their behavior?"

He paused, but Kosta didn't reply. "Because there should have been, you know," Hanan added, twisting half around in his chair to look at the other. "Fresh worlds—lots of untouched primordial angels lying around—"

"Yes, I understand the question," Kosta said, his forehead wrinkled in thought. In slightly worried thought, if Chandris was reading him right. "I'm afraid I don't know enough history to answer that."

"Well, I do," Hanan said.

And for the first time since she'd met him Chandris heard a trace of genuine bitterness in his voice.

"The answer is a loud, flat no," he said. "The people who arrived on Uhuru spouted all kinds of pious pronouncements about peace and freedom and equality when they landed. But less than thirty years later they were already on the way back to the class separation and elitist power structure they'd originally turned their backs on."

"Maybe the old patterns were too hard to break," Kosta suggested slowly.

"In which case they should be too strong to break now," Hanan said, a note of decisiveness in his voice. "But they are breaking. Slowly and from the top down, maybe; but they are breaking." He shook his head. "Eventually, Jereko, you people at the Institute are going to have to accept the fact that Angelmass is unique."

"I'm sorry, but I don't see how that can be," Kosta disagreed. "Black holes have the most limited set of parameters of anything in the known universe: mass, spin, charge, and one or two others that are still being debated. I don't see how any combination of those could give rise to angels."

"Ah." Hanan lifted a finger. "But that assumes the angels are a purely natural phenomenon. What if, instead, they're a form of life?"

Kosta seemed to shrink into himself, just a little. "You mean like a wormhole alien invasion?" he asked warily.

"Not at all," Hanan shook his head. "You know anything about hyperspace catapult theory?"

Kosta took the abrupt change in subject better this time. "I know a little."

"Okay. Suppose you threw a ship across space via catapult and its vector passed through a quantum black hole like Angelmass. What would happen?"

"No one knows," Kosta said. "The equations break down at too steep a gravity gradient."

"Exactly." Hanan turned from his board again to look Kosta square in the eye. "And I think that's just what happened. Sometime in the past, a ship—human or alien—tried to go through Angelmass.

And in the process left one or more lifeforms trapped at the event horizon."

He paused, and Chandris waited for the inevitable grin and punchline. But Hanan's expression remained serious, and after a long moment Kosta spoke. "If this is supposed to be better than the Acchaa theory," he said, "it isn't. How are these fragments of a nonphysical lifeforce supposed to have been changed into solid particles, for starters?"

The endburn alert pinged. "I'd guess it's a piggyback sort of arrangement," Hanan said, turning back to his board. "The lifeforce attaching itself to the angel for some reason. Or possibly the angel forms around it, the way a raindrop coalesces around a dust particle." He tapped a few keys and the dull roar of the Gazelles drive faded to a whisper.

And suddenly Kosta didn't look so good. "Trouble?" Chandris asked him.

"I'll be fine," the other said between clenched teeth. "These anti-nausea drugs always seem to take their time with me, that's all."

"Some tea might help," Ornina offered. "Chandris or I could get you some, if you'd like to try it."

"No, thanks," Kosta said. "It should clear up in a few minutes."

"Or we could put a little spin on the ship," Ornina continued, looking at Hanan. "Not too much; we'll be hitting the catapult in half an hour. But it would give your inner ear some sense of direction."