Timothy Zahn - Angelmass

"Ah," she said. She didn't seem at all bothered by her mistake. If it had, in fact, been a mistake. "So tell me about college on Balmoral."

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything," she said... and there was no mistaking the hard edge to her voice. "The landscape, the climate, the university, the people you met there. Everything."

And if I make a mistake... Taking a deep breath, Kosta gathered his thoughts and plunged in.

It took him nearly twenty minutes to fix the scrubber, talking almost nonstop the whole time.

Chandris occasionally interrupted with questions, but for the most part she just stood there and listened. And, no doubt, kept a sharp eye on his repair work.

He was putting the cover back on, and trying to describe mountain peaks he'd only seen in pictures, when relief finally came. "Chandris?" Ornina's voice called over the intercom. "We're going to be hitting the catapult in a few minutes. Do you want to come up and give me a hand?"

"I'll be there in a minute," Chandris told her. "I'm just watching Kosta finish up here."

"Okay. Thanks, Jereko—you've saved Hanan a messy job."

"No problem," Kosta called.

The intercom clicked off. "I guess I'll see you later," Chandris said, turning toward the door.

"Leaving me here all alone?" he asked pointedly. "I must have passed the test."

Slowly, deliberately, she turned back. "You already called it, Kosta," she said. "I don't trust you.

There's too much about you that doesn't fit. You're too smart—too well educated, anyway—to be an ordinary scorer. But you're not a typical blank-tower science-type, either."

His first instinct was to deny it. But looking into those eyes... "All I want from you and the Daviees is transport to Angelmass," he told her quietly. "Nothing more."

For a long moment she gazed at him, her face still giving away nothing. "We'll see," she said at last.

She turned back to the door. Hesitated. "You were right, by the way," she said over her shoulder. "I checked the Gazelle's records last night. For the past six months it's taken an average of just over three days to capture each angel, even though Gabriel's pay scale still figures on an average of four."

It took a second for Kosta to catch on to what she was talking about. "Interesting," he murmured.

"Could some of that be more advanced equipment?"

She shook her head, her back still toward him. "They haven't gotten anything really new in over a year. Actually, it's worse—a lot of their old stuff is overdue for replacement. I just thought you'd like to know." She glided through the door and was gone.

Kosta stared after her, an unpleasant shiver running up his back. So it wasn't just his imagination coupled with some kind of rogue statistical construct. Angelmass really was emitting more angels.

A week ago he would have been quietly excited by the confirmation. Now, with Hanan's theories echoing in the back of his mind...

"Friz," he growled, annoyed with himself. He was a scientist, and so far this was a purely scientific problem. The implications, if any, would be up to other people to worry about.

Dropping lightly to his knees in the decreasing gravity, he began collecting his tools together. And tried to shake off the vague fears.

The rotational gravity had all but vanished by the time Chandris reached the control cabin. To her mild surprise she found that Ornina was alone, seated in Hanan's usual chair at the main command board. "Where's Hanan?" she asked, glancing around as she maneuvered herself toward her chair.

"No—up here, please," Ornina told her, indicating her own usual backup command seat. "We got a red light on one of the maneuvering-jet fuel pumps; Hanan's gone back to take a look."

Chandris nodded grimly. Just one more sign of how fast the Gazelle was falling apart. "Do we have any spares?" she asked.

Ornina looked at her in mock surprise. "You mean you haven't gotten around to memorizing our inventory list yet?"

"I've been busy," Chandris said with her best imitation of wounded pride. "I'm only down to the M's—haven't reached 'pump' yet."

Ornina smiled. "Actually, we do have a spare aboard if we need it. Whether he could actually get it mounted before we reach Angelmass is another question entirely."

Chandris pursed her lips. "Well, if it comes to that, Kosta could probably be pressed into service."

"Capable?"

She shrugged. "He knows his way around a wrench, anyway."

The intercom pinged. "Ornina?" Hanan's voice came. "Can you shut down power on the AA-57-C

circuit for me? I need to get back into the coupling area and would just as soon not get singed."

"Right," Ornina said, punching in a command. "Okay; it shows clear."

"You need any help with that, Hanan?" Chandris asked. "I could come down and—"

"No, I'm fine," he assured her. "It's fixable; just going to take a bit more time than I thought.

Speaking of time, why haven't we hit the catapult yet?"

"It'll be another few minutes," Ornina told him. "They're having some trouble with one of the supply ships going through to Central, and it's got things backed up."

"Typical," Hanan sniffed. "Well, keep me informed."

"And let me know if you want any help," Chandris added.

"I won't, but thanks." The intercom clicked off. Chandris turned to Ornina—

And paused. On her face... "You all right?" Chandris asked.

Ornina turned to look at her, the lines trying to smooth out as she did so. "I'm fine," she said.

A cold knot settled into Chandris's stomach. "Something's wrong with Hanan, isn't it?" she asked. "Is he getting worse?"

Ornina shook her head tiredly. "He has no choice but to get worse," she said. "It's a degenerative disease. Degenerative diseases by definition get worse."

"Then he shouldn't be down there alone," Chandris said, reaching for her restraint release.

"No, don't go," Ornina said, shaking her head. "You can't help him. Not any more. You're too much like family now."

Chandris stared at her. "I don't understand."

"Neither do I, really," Ornina said quietly. The lines of pain were back in her face now. As if, having said this much, there was no longer any point in trying to hide them. "He's funny that way, Chandris.

It's pretty easy for him to accept help from strangers and acquaintances, but very hard to accept it from family and close friends. Pride, or some strange form of denial, I don't know which."

Chandris thought back to when she'd first come aboard the Gazelle; compared Hanan's face and words then to how he'd looked and acted during her most recent lessons in ship's maintenance.

Thought about the brief conversation half an hour earlier, and Hanan cheerfully giving Kosta permission to fix the air scrubber. "That's why you don't sell your extra angel, isn't it?" she said slowly. "So you can make sure there's a steady stream of strangers like me who he can accept help from."

She locked eyes with the older woman. "Except that I'm not a stranger anymore."

"No, you're not," Ornina agreed. "You're far more valuable to us than a stranger would be."

"Right—except that I can't help you anymore," Chandris retorted, a frustrated anger beginning to stir within her. "That's real valuable."

"You know the ship as well as the two of us put together," Ornina countered, her eyes taking on a firmness and a frustrated anger of their own. "You're an extra pair of hands—an extra pair of skilled hands—and the way Hanan is going we're going to need those hands if we're going to keep the Gazelle flying."

"Oh, wonderful," Chandris shot back. "I keep the Gazelle flying, and in the process grind Hanan's pride into the dirt."

Ornina leveled a finger at her. "I want you to get one thing straight, young lady. You are not responsible for Hanan's quirks and flaws and bouts of false pride. Yes, it hurts him to have to be dependent on people. But that's reality, and denying it just makes things harder on himself and everyone else around him. Eventually, he's going to have to bite the stick and learn that, and he never will if people always cave in to him. Understand?"