Timothy Zahn - Angelmass

Her lip twisted sardonically. "I didn't think you cared."

Kosta's first impulse was to turn away from her, to back off the way he always did. But for once, and to his own mild surprise, he stood his ground. "Of course I care," he said quietly. "I also care about Hanan and Ornina. They've put themselves on the line for both of us. We can't let them down."

Chandris drew herself up. "We won't," she said firmly. "How soon can you get that stuff together?"

Kosta looked at the list again. "I don't know," he said. "A couple of days, maybe."

"All right," Chandris said. "Let's call it three days. I'll have the Gazelle ready to fly by then."

Kosta looked up at her again. "Be careful," he said.

"I will," she assured him. "Don't worry, I know what I'm doing."

She waved toward the door. "Come on, let's go get the angel. I need to get started, and you probably need to walk me out."

They were waiting outside the main entrance for the line car Kosta had called before Chandris spoke again. "Something else occurs to me," she said, her face invisible behind her blowing hair. "You said that the increased angel production might be accidental, a side effect of the radiation surges. You suppose it could also be deliberate?"

Kosta felt his throat tighten. "You mean as in Angelmass figuring out that the more angels it spits out, and the more anti-angels it absorbs, the smarter it gets?"

She hunched her shoulders. "So you thought of that, too. That's not a good sign."

"I know," Kosta agreed soberly. "Of course, it could just mean we're both wrong."

"It could also mean we're both right," she said. "We'd better get the Gazelle flying, and fast."

Kosta looked up at the stars blazing across the night sky overhead. "Yes," he said. "Let's."

The news report was a repeat, the third time today that this particular item had been shown. But Trilling Vail didn't mind. He watched it anyway, fingers resting on the cool glass of the display, keeping the sound turned down low so as not to wake the sleeping girl in the bed behind him. The camera zoomed in on the ambulance, and the stretcher the medics were rolling toward it.

And there she was, standing with her arm clutched around a fat old woman as the stretcher rolled past. There she was, just as beautiful and fragile and helpless as ever.

Chandris.

Trilling pressed his fingers harder against the glass, hungrily drinking in the sight of her. He'd tracked her here to Seraph just fine; but then the trail had unexpectedly died away. No one he'd talked to had admitted working with her, or seeing her, or even hearing of her, no matter how hard he pressed them. One of the koshes had finally admitted he knew where she was, but after he was dead Trilling had found out he'd been lying, just to get him to stop. He hated when people did that to him.

But none of that mattered anymore. She was here. Half a planet away from where he'd ended up, but that was nothing. She was here, and he was here, and as soon as he could get transport over to Magasca they would be together again. And then they could stay here, or go back to Uhuru, or do whatever they wanted. They would be together again. It would be just like old times.

The news report ended, and he switched off the set. Quietly, stealthily, he moved through the darkness of the room, listening to the slow breathing of the sleeping girl as he collected his belongings together. It didn't take long; there wasn't much there, and anyway he could score whatever he needed along the way. The cash was a different matter, and he took all of that he could find, making sure not to forget to check the pockets of the girl's jeans hanging lopsidedly on the chair at the foot of the bed.

Finally, he was ready. He doubted any transports would be heading toward Magasca at this time of night, but it was a bit of a walk to the depot anyway, and he was eager to get started. Soon he and Chandris would be together again.

He zipped up his bag and stepped to the side of the bed. The girl was an amazingly sound sleeper, he realized, or else just couldn't hold her reeks very well. They hadn't been together long; it had only been about two weeks since he'd waltzed her off the streets and started teaching her the tricks of the trade. With her bright face and winning voice she had a lot of potential, and more than once he'd thought she would be worth hanging onto until he found Chandris.

But now that was over, of course. Setting down his bag, he leaned over the girl and got his hands around her throat.

She was a sound sleeper. She never even woke up before she died.

Trilling picked up his bag again and stepped to the door, feeling a twinge of regret. But he'd had no choice. He was a one-woman man, and Chandris was a one-man woman, and now that he'd found her there could never again be anyone between them. He'd had no choice.

Opening the door, not looking back, he headed out into the night.

"Scintara Catapult Control calling, Commodore," the comm officer reported. "They signal green."

"Acknowledged," Lleshi said. It was, he reflected, almost a straight reenactment of the situation they had been in a few months back. The same jump-off point, the same target, the same enemy.

Except that then the mission had been a quick penetration into enemy territory to drop off the false asteroid and, almost as an afterthought, to throw the young academic Jereko Kosta to the wolves.

This time, the Komitadji was going to war.

It was a difference that was heavily underscored by the four bright orange spheres ahead of him in the launch queue, each being shepherded gingerly by its tugs toward the undulating focal point of Scintara's catapult. The doomsday pods, each with multiple gigatons of explosive power hovering restlessly in the center of its magnetic bottle. "Target position check," he ordered.

The nav display flickered once and changed to a schematic of the Lorelei system, with each of the four Empyreal nets scattered throughout the asteroid belt represented by a flashing red point. The new Pax net flashed yellow, the machinery buried deep within the asteroid waiting patiently for the burst of light and radiation that would be its signal to activate.

For a moment Lleshi studied the flashing yellow light. Even after several months of drift, the newly created net was uncomfortably close to the net that Pod Three would be popping into the center of in a few minutes. If the doomsday blast was powerful enough to damage it, this whole operation would suddenly become extremely problematic. The Pax ships would still penetrate Lorelei system; but at that point there would be nothing to stop five systems' worth of EmDef forces from descending on them like a swarm of hornets. The Komitadji's task force wasn't set up for that kind of defensive action.

"Getting a little nervous, Commodore Lleshi?" Telthorst asked from his station. "Not quite as sure of this grand strategy of yours anymore, are we?"

"Prepare to launch Pod One," Lleshi ordered, ignoring him.

Telthorst apparently wasn't in an ignorable mood. "I asked you a question, Commodore," Telthorst said. His voice was still quiet, but there was the potential below it for more volume, the threat of taking the argument off the privacy of the balcony and down onto the full command deck. "In my experience, men who are sure of what they're doing don't keep checking everything over and over."

"In my experience, men who don't are fools," Lleshi said shortly. "SeTO?"

"All green, Commodore," Campbell confirmed. "Ship and crew at full battle stations."

"Commodore—"

"Mr. Telthorst, we are preparing for battle," Lleshi told him. "Either be quiet, or be removed to your quarters."

With a glare that could have flash-cooked raw meat, Telthorst swiveled back to his status boards.