Timothy Zahn - Angelmass

He threw a sideways look at Telthorst. "Adjutor Telthorst's belief is that they've gone out to sabotage the Angelmass net."

"Really," Lleshi said, frowning at Telthorst. "To what end?"

"Obviously, to keep us away from it," Telthorst said tightly. "We've already agreed their best defense is those sandwich-metal hulls of theirs, and we know that all their angel hunterships are equipped with those."

"And you're suggesting that they're gathering the hunterships at Angelmass into an assault force?"

Lleshi asked mildly.

"Is that so ridiculous a notion?" Telthorst shot back. "Or had you forgotten all those armed mining ships they threw at us in Lorelei system?"

"Though not very effectively, as I recall," Lleshi reminded him. Still, he had to concede it wasn't as ridiculous an idea as it sounded. Empyreal Defense might well believe that a group of armed ships popping through a net in low Seraph orbit could catch the Komitadji by surprise. "Campbell?"

"We've quartered the region looking for ships," Campbell said. "So far, we haven't found any indication that there's anything out there, let alone an organized task force."

"But you yourself admit that the glare may be washing out the view," Telthorst countered. "I still maintain that it doesn't make sense for them to not to have at least some working ships out there."

"Show me," Lleshi ordered, crossing over to his station and sitting down. He swiveled his chair around to the main screen just as Campbell pulled up the telescope image of Angelmass.

It was every bit as awesome as he had expected. He'd seen one other black hole in his travels; a much larger, much calmer one, sitting quietly in space like an invisible spider in an unseen web, content to draw matter spiraling into the darkness lurking behind the veil of its event horizon.

Angelmass was the exact opposite. A tiny pinprick in the fabric of space, it spat out light and radiation and particles with all the fury and power of a small star. The radiation drove away any bit of matter or solar wind that ventured too close, flashing or ionizing all matter farther away. With the sunscreens blocking out the brightest part of the central core, the visual effect was that of a large dead spot in space surrounded by a wide band of hazy light. Like the rings of Saturn or Demolian, perhaps.

Or like a halo. A halo around Angelmass.

With an effort, Lleshi drew his mind away from poetic images and back to the hard, cold reality of war. Campbell was right: there were no signs of ships out there.

Unfortunately, so was Telthorst. The halo glare of ionized gas was just enough to possibly conceal fighter-sized craft running dark or stealthed.

Fortunately, the solution was simple enough. "Do you have orbital data for the Seraph catapult?" he asked.

"We have the general data," Campbell said. "It's an equatorial orbit, a couple hundred klicks up. We can get it more exactly once we get closer."

"Do so," Lleshi ordered. "When we arrive we'll take up an orbit directly behind it, as far back as we can get without losing visual contact. Will that be acceptable, Adjutor?" he added, swiveling his chair to face Telthorst.

"I suppose so," Telthorst said. "At least, for now."

Lleshi glanced at Campbell, caught the brief sour tightening of the other's lips. Campbell knew it, too: Telthorst would never be satisfied. With anything.

"SeTO, put the tactical back up," he said, settling back in his chair. "Let's go in."

It was nearly 10:30, and the stars were shining dimly through the haze of the Magasca city lights, when Chandris arrived at the Government Building.

She made her way up the fifteen wide marble steps leading to the main entrance, grousing at each one along the way. It had been over two hours now since Kosta had pulled his disappearing act from the hospital, and a long and weary process of elimination had finally brought her here. If he wasn't inside, she was completely out of ideas.

But she had a feeling he was. A very bad feeling. Kosta, noble and idealistic and stupid, had already talked once about turning himself in. Now, still caked with his own blood from Trilling's attack, he'd apparently gone ahead and taken the plunge.

All of it to protect her and Hanan and Ornina, undoubtedly. Never mind that they'd all agreed he should keep his mouth shut for now. Never mind that the threat of Angelmass far outweighed whatever anyone might think the Pax could possibly be doing with or through him.

If there was anything left after High Senator Forsythe finished with him, she told herself darkly, she was going to personally feed it to the fish.

At this hour of the night, of course, the outer door was locked. One more annoyance to add to her list. She had it open in thirty seconds and slipped inside. The door leading into the main part of the building from the reception area was also locked. She got through that one even faster.

She had expected the place to be dark and essentially deserted. To her surprise, the lights were blazing, with a fair number of people still buzzing about the halls and offices. All of them seemed to be hurrying or talking together in urgent, hushed tones, some doing both at once.

It was highly disconcerting, rather like walking into a bank with a cutting torch and set of burglar tools, only to discover a police convention being held on the premises. But old habits quickly kicked in, turning on the air of arrogant importance that had gotten her into many places where she didn't belong, past people who should have known better. A glance at the directory as she passed, and she was on her way to the fifth floor and Forsythe's temporary office complex.

Deep down, she was still hoping that Kosta had somehow come to his senses in time and kept his identity secret. But the more people she strode past, and the more bits of conversation she caught, the more it became clear that these people weren't here so late just for the overtime pay. They were angry, worried, and frightened.

And the word "Pax" kept coming up.

Which meant that Chandris was too late. Kosta had indeed confessed; and chances were he'd already been transferred to some secure prison somewhere. Like the two hours of searching that had gone before it, this little side trip was starting to look very much like a waste of time.

Still, as long as she was here, she might as well keep going. At the very least, maybe she could shake loose some information from some gullible clerk. Arriving at Forsythe's office suite, she stepped up to the plate glass wall that separated it from the corridor.

She had expected this to be the center of all the activity she'd passed through on her way here—after all, unmasking a Pax spy was the kind of publicity coup that even a High Senator didn't stumble across every day. If Forsythe was any kind of politician he ought to be milking it for all it was worth.

But once again, her expectations turned out to be oddly off target. The office suite was only dimly lit, and virtually empty.

For a moment she stood outside the glass, peering in. The suite was arranged a little like Amberson Toomes's office complex: a large outer area with a handful of doors leading from the back walls into what were presumably private offices. Where Toomes's outer office had been the province of only the one receptionist, though, the room now facing her was crowded with a dozen desks and workstations. A common work area, then. Briefly, she wondered how much of the space was Forsythe's and how much was controlled by other local governmental agencies. Each of the doors at the back had a nameplate, but she was too far away and the light too dim for her to read them.

There were only three people in the room. Two of them stood flanking one of the rear doors, their postures and the guns belted to their sides marking them as guards. Chandris had never seen these particular men before, though the insignia on their jackets marked them as local governmental security officers.