Timothy Zahn - Angelmass

She bowed her head and closed her eyes. "Loved me."

Kosta gazed at her profile, at the tears still flowing freely.

And for him, at least, there was no longer any doubt. Chandris could protect her friends, yet cry over what she had had to do. She could make sacrifices for a higher need, yet retain her pride and dignity.

She could feel anger, and sadness, and regret, and love.

The Pax propaganda was wrong. The angels weren't turning the citizens of the Empyrean into something less than human. If anything, they were allowing people like Chandris to become more human than they'd ever been. More human than they'd ever dared to be.

Ornina had shifted now to bandaging his arm. Their eyes met, and he read the message there.

Reaching over with his good arm, he took hold of Chandris's shoulders and gently pulled her close to him.

And as if that had been the breaking of the final barrier, she turned her face into his chest and sobbed like a child. Like the child that in many ways she still was.

Like the child, perhaps, that she had never been allowed to be.

"I'm sorry, High Senator," the doctor said, peering down at his hand computer. "I'm afraid we still don't know what happened to Mr. Ronyon."

Forsythe looked over at Ronyon. The big man was studiously fastening his shoes, with the same intense concentration he brought to every technically challenging job. "But he is all right now?"

"As far as we can tell," the doctor said. "If you'd like to leave him with us for a few more days, we might be able to come up with something."

"You mean you might be able to dream up some new test that no one's ever thought of before?"

The doctor shrugged uncomfortably. "It does rather come down to that, yes," he conceded.

"Yes," Forsythe said. "I appreciate the offer, but I think we'll pass."

Ronyon finished his shoes and straightened up. Can we go now? he signed to Forsythe, his forehead wrinkled with nervous hope.

Yes, Forsythe assured him. It had been clear from their conversation earlier that afternoon that Ronyon was very unhappy here, lying in a strange bed and being periodically poked and prodded and frowned at by the small army of medical men and women who were continually carting him off to various examination rooms. There was no point in making him go through any more of that, particularly when they'd run out of ideas anyway.

And in truth, Forsythe was just as anxious to get the big man back at his side. The tension of not knowing what was happening at Lorelei was starting to affect him, making him moody and shorttempered.

And everyone from Pirbazari to the temporary staff the Seraph government had insisted on assigning to him knew it. The sooner he had Ronyon's happy innocence around him again, the better.

"Best of fortune to you, then," the doctor said. "If he has any more attacks, please let me know at once. Good-bye, Mr. Ronyon."

Are we going home now? Ronyon signed as he and Forsythe headed down the hospital corridor toward the admissions desk where Pirbazari should be about finished with the release paperwork.

Not yet, Forsythe told him, struggling to keep his emotion from showing in his face. For all they knew, there might not even be a home left for them to go back to.

But of course Ronyon knew nothing about this. For the moment, it was best they keep it that way.

We're going to the Magasca Government Building, he added. We have some temporary office space there.

Oh. Ronyon paused, his forehead wrinkling a little more. Why aren't we going home?

We can't leave yet, Forsythe said, studying Ronyon's face. To the casual observer, he seemed to have recovered fully from whatever had happened to him at Angelmass.

But Forsythe had known him a long time, and he could tell that there was still something lingering below the surface. There were new lines at the corners of Ronyon's eyes, and a thin film of solemnity lying across his expression like a nearly transparent veil.

Maybe that would disappear as the memory of the trip faded away. Forsythe hoped so. There are still some things we need to do here.

You mean like with Hanan and Ornina and Chandris? Ronyon asked. Is Hanan all right?

To his embarrassment, Forsythe realized suddenly that he hadn't even checked on Hanan Daviee since hearing that the pilot's condition had been stabilized. I think so, he signed. If you'd like, we can check on him before we leave.

Some of the new lines in Ronyon's face seemed to smooth out. Can we? he signed eagerly.

Forsythe smiled. Of course, he said. I'm sure Hanan will be happy to see you—

"High Senator?"

Forsythe looked up. Pirbazari was hurrying down the corridor toward him, his phone clutched in his hand.

Come on, Forsythe signed to Ronyon, picking up his own pace, his heart abruptly pounding in his ears. News from Lorelei at last?

They met in the middle. "I just got a call from EmDef," Pirbazari said, taking Forsythe's arm and pulling him off to the side of the corridor. "You're not going to believe this."

Forsythe braced himself. Here it came. "Lorelei's been taken?"

Pirbazari shook his head. "No. I mean, I don't know—there's still no word from there."

He waved his phone again. "It's Angelmass. The thing's moving."

Forsythe glanced at Ronyon. "What do you mean, moving? Moving where?"

"Into a lower orbit," Pirbazari said. "Dropping in toward the sun. Just a little so far, but the change is definitely there."

"What's causing it?"

"You got me," Pirbazari said. "In fact, you got all of us. No one at EmDef or the Institute has the faintest idea."

Forsythe frowned. "Zar, there aren't a lot of possibilities here," he said. "In order to change something's orbit, you have to apply force to it. Where's the force coming from?"

Pirbazari shrugged helplessly. "They've checked solar wind, magnetic anomalies, dust concentrations, even looked for stray dark masses that could be affecting it. So far, nothing."

Forsythe rubbed his chin, trying to visualize the configuration out there. An inward change in orbit, he remembered from college physics, meant an increase in orbital speed. And with Angelmass Central running in the same orbit ahead of it... "It's moving closer to the station," he murmured.

"Yes, but not very fast," Pirbazari said. "And Central is pretty heavily shielded. At the rate Angelmass is gaining, it'll be at least a couple of weeks before it even starts to pose a radiation hazard. And of course, if the orbit continues to sink, it may end up too low to bother the station by the time it passes anyway."

"I wouldn't want to bet on that," Forsythe said. "Especially since we don't know how or why it's sinking in the first place. Better have the station personnel prepare for evacuation, just in case. Do they have any ships there?"

"EmDef can have a transport to them in twenty minutes," Pirbazari said. "There's also a double ring of emergency escape pods set around the tube connecting the catapult and net sections of the station.

They've got steerable drive nozzles with enough fuel for half an hour of steady burn time, plus two weeks' worth of life-support."

"Shielding?"

"Huntership-grade sandwich metal," Pirbazari assured him. "Actually, the pods are the main shielding for the connection tube."

"All right," Forsythe said. "Speaking of hunterships, what's being done with the ones that are out there?"

"They've been alerted," Pirbazari said.

"That's all?"

"Well..." Pirbazari floundered a moment. "The orbit's only changed a little. They can surely compensate for that."

"Only if the change stays small," Forsythe said tartly. "And since we don't know what's causing it, it's going to be a little hard to make any guarantees. Have them recalled to Seraph."