Timothy Zahn - Angelmass

There was a ripple of reaction around the room. "Sir, I don't think we can do that," Pirbazari said carefully. "I mean, all of EmDef already knows about it—"

"EmDef should also know how to keep their mouths shut," Forsythe cut him off. "If we move quickly, we should be able to block all communications from the various off-planet stations and research platforms."

"You don't think someone will figure it out once that thing floats past overhead?" someone demanded. "Come on, High Senator, be realistic. We have to warn them."

"I am being realistic," Forsythe said stiffly. "I'm thinking that at this point all a warning will accomplish will be to precipitate a night of planet-wide panic."

"The people have a right to know," the other insisted.

"To what end?" Forsythe asked. "What's anyone going to do in twelve or fifteen or twenty hours?

Grab a rifle and aim it skyward? Throw his family into a line car and try to escape into the hills? Do you really think that kind of chaos will do anyone any good?"

"Maybe the High Senator is thinking of trying to get a little more distance himself," another voice put in.

Forsythe didn't even bother to turn in that direction. "We will do everything in our power to prepare a proper military reception for the invaders," he said quietly. "Everything EmDef can put together will be waiting when they arrive. But it will take everything they have. I don't want any of EmDef's people or resources having to be diverted for crowd or looting control."

He looked back at Pirbazari. "There's nothing the general public can do to help," he said. "They might as well have one last peaceful night's sleep."

Pirbazari licked his upper lip, a quick swipe of his tongue tip. "Yes, sir," he said. He wasn't happy with the decision, Forsythe knew.

But he could also tell that the other realized the basic wisdom of it. "I'm sure you'll be wanting to get over to EmDef HQ as soon as possible to oversee the defense preparations," Pirbazari went on. "But right now, you have a visitor waiting in your office."

It was a second before the words connected. Right: Pirbazari was supposed to have brought Kosta here from the hospital. In all the confusion, he'd completely forgotten about the Pax spy. "Yes," he said. "Of course."

He started to turn away. A sudden thought struck him, and he turned back. "What happened with the Number Four catapult ship?" he asked, searching the screen for it.

"It's on its way back to Seraph with the others," Pirbazari said. "The Pax fighters abandoned their attacks when the EmDef ships began their retreat."

"Never mind the fighters," Forsythe said, frowning. "What about that Hellfire missile?"

"It self-destructed," Pirbazari said. "A few seconds after the Komitadji destroyed the catapult end of Number Two."

Forsythe felt his lip twist. "I guess they didn't want to damage any more of the spoils of war than they had to."

"Yes, sir, that's probably it," Pirbazari agreed. "Shall we go?"

Silently, Forsythe followed him out through the crowd, bitterness and guilt eating into his stomach.

Pirbazari might believe that line about Pax greed. All of those who had heard it might believe it. It might even be true.

But he couldn't escape the sobering realization that, while he had been ready to order his own people into a suicide attack, the Pax commander had deliberately destroyed one of his own missiles rather than waste Empyreal lives.

And the Pax commander wasn't even wearing an angel. What did that say about angels?

More importantly, what did it say about Forsythe himself?

The two guards Pirbazari had left behind to watch Kosta were big, competent looking, and very definitely not the talkative type. In fact, aside from telling him once to stop wiggling and shut up, neither had said a single word, not even to each other, since Pirbazari hurriedly handcuffed him to the chair and took off through the office door at a dead run.

They had all been sitting like that for nearly two hours when Pirbazari finally returned.

With a surprise visitor.

"Mr. Kosta," High Senator Forsythe said. "Nice to see you again. All recovered from your injuries, I trust?"

"Yes, sir, mostly," Kosta said, his initial relief at seeing a familiar face fading quickly into uncertainty. There wasn't a single hint of friendliness anywhere that he could see in Forsythe's expression, not even the abstract camaraderie that was supposed to develop when two people had shared deadly danger together. The High Senator's eyes were hostile as he gazed at Kosta, his face set in hard lines. "Thank you for your concern," he added.

"You're welcome," Forsythe said. The words themselves were formally polite; the delivery as cold and dark as a Siberian winter morning. "Zar, take the guards and wait in the outer office."

Pirbazari shot a look at Kosta. "If I may suggest, sir—?"

"I said wait outside."

Pirbazari's lips compressed briefly. But he nevertheless gestured to the guards, and the three of them left the room.

Forsythe waited until the door had shut behind them. Then, very deliberately, he walked over to his desk, shuffled a few papers out of the way, and sat down on one corner facing Kosta. "So here we are," he said, the hostile eyes boring into Kosta's face again. "Rather like a dramatic thriller you'd watch on a quiet evening, isn't it?"

Kosta shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I don't follow you."

"Oh, come now, Mr. Kosta," Forsythe said coldly. "The Empyreal High Senator... and the Pax spy?"

Kosta felt his lip twitch. He should have guessed. "Oh," he said. "That."

Something passed across Forsythe's face, leaving even harder lines in its wake. Apparently, for all his assumed confidence, he hadn't been completely sure of his accusation. "So you don't deny it."

"Not at all," Kosta said. "As a matter of fact, I was ready to turn myself in two days ago."

Forsythe snorted. "Of course you were."

"I was," Kosta insisted. "The only reason I didn't was because of Angelmass. Something's happening up there, High Senator, something very dangerous. We have to find out what that is, and fast. Before more people die."

"Ah," Forsythe said, folding his arms across his chest. "So you care deeply about Empyreal lives, do you?"

Kosta frowned. There was something simmering beneath the surface of the man, something that seemed far out of proportion to the simple fact of having unmasked a minor spy. "Yes, I do," he said.

"I'm not your typical dramatic-thriller spy, High Senator. I wasn't sent here to sabotage or steal secrets or anything like that. I was sent to study Angelmass and the angels. That's all I've done."

"Of course you have," Forsythe said, his voice suddenly bitter. "And there was nothing in your orders about laying the groundwork for military action, I suppose."

"No, nothing," Kosta said. "The Pax believes the angels are an alien invasion—"

He broke off, the meaning beneath Forsythe's words suddenly penetrating. "What do you mean, military action? Has something happened?"

For a long moment Forsythe simply gazed at him. "You're an excellent actor, Mr. Kosta," he said at last. "Either that, or you truly don't know."

Kosta felt his stomach curl into a hard knot. "Please tell me."

There was another long silence. Then Forsythe stirred. "All right. Lorelei has gone silent. Something has shut down all its lines of communication; and that same something has also swallowed two investigating courier ships without a trace."

He smiled tightly. "Tell me again about alien invasions."

"Lorelei," Kosta murmured, his mind flashing back to his nerve-wracking entrance into that system, and to the unreasonably large asteroid they'd smuggled him in with. "That was where I came into the Empyrean. Hidden inside a fake asteroid."