Angelmass. Part 10

Exactly the same thing that had happened to the last Pax ship. And the one before that. "That makes, what, three ships in two weeks?" he asked, backing up to the best view of the Pax ship and freezing the image.

"Right," Pirbazari said. "Counting that big monstrosity, the Komitadji."

Forsythe glared at the display. "One ship might just be hara.s.sment. But not three. What do you suppose they're up to?"

"I'm not sure." Pirbazari leaned over the desk to tap at Forsythe's keyboard. "But this may be significant: the ships all went to different nets."

Forsythe frowned at the display. "Coincidence?" he asked, though he was pretty sure what the answer would be.

"I doubt it, sir," Pirbazari shook his head. "You have to come from a particular direction to be caught by a particular net. That, or wait until the one you want has moved around in its...o...b..t."

Forsythe rubbed his fingers gently on his desktop. Pirbazari was right, of course... and to hit each of three different quadrants from as far away as the Pax would take careful selection of catapult launch sites indeed. "They're looking for something," he said. "But what?"

"Wreckage from the Komitadji, maybe?" Pirbazari suggested. "You'll remember EmDef had to do a fast recalibration on that one. Could be they did it too fast and wound up sending the thing through a star after all."

"We can always hope," Forsythe grunted. "But in that case, shouldn't a single reconnoiter have been enough to show the ship wasn't destroyed at Lorelei? And shouldn't the follow-up ship have been sent to the same net?"

"There's another possibility." Pirbazari hesitated. "It could be they're mapping out the system. Defenses, belt mining and refinery centers, comm focal points. Maybe even Lorelei itself; we really don't know how good their optics are."

Forsythe stared up at him, a cold knot settling into his stomach. "You realize what you're saying."

Pirbazari met his gaze steadily. "Yes, sir. Pre-invasion reconnaissance."

Forsythe looked back at the display. "And they've even turned our own net system against us," he said. "Using it to get maximum coverage with minimum effort. Clever b.a.s.t.a.r.ds."

Pirbazari nodded. "Anyway, I thought it might help you to have this before the joint Resource/Commerce meeting this afternoon."

"Yes. Thank you." Forsythe glanced at his watch. "Do me a favor, will you? Pull up the report we wrote and integrate this new material into it. You have a copy?"

"Yes, sir," Pirbazari said. "Incidentally, I also checked on the media coverage of the ceremony this morning as you asked."

"My father's name come up?"

"Inevitably," the other said dryly. "But they didn't play on him nearly as much as they could have. The general consensus these days seems to be that his resignation was a reasonable and legitimate act of conscience."

Forsythe snorted. "Generous of them to allow him his ethics," he said scornfully. "Maybe they've forgotten that was even possible before the angels came along."

"Sure couldn't prove it by some of them," Pirbazari agreed. "Mostly, though, they left your father alone and focused on your own record and prospects in the High Senate."

Forsythe nodded. "I hope they didn't dump too much on Ronyon for dropping the angel."

"Not a bit," Pirbazari said with a smile. "In fact, I don't think more than two or three of them even mentioned it. Whatever anyone thinks of you or your politics, everybody likes Ronyon."

"He's an eminently likable person," Forsythe said. So there went the last potential snag with this whole thing. If the media had been even slightly suspicious, they might picked at it until it came unraveled.

But as Pirbazari said, everyone liked Ronyon.

"At least we're done with the pomp and ceremony," he went on. "Let's get that report ready."

"Right," Pirbazari said, moving toward the door. "Maybe it'll be enough to finally get some action."

"Let's hope so," Forsythe said as the other pulled open the door. Because if it doesn't, he added darkly to himself, they may not get another chance. Not before there are Pax troops on Lorelei.

"...so the bottom line here," High Senator Bjani of Uhuru said, slouching back in his chair and stabbing a pair of fingers at the graphs he'd put up on the central display, "is that the decision to move most of the hypers.p.a.ce nets further out in their respective systems has played more havoc with shipping than we originally thought it would. So much so that if they don't get some sort of relief the smallest companies are likely to go under within the next few months." He sent a questioning look around the table. "Suggestions?"

Forsythe looked around the table, too, carefully keeping his mouth shut. As the newest member of the Resource Development Committee it really wasn't his place to respond first, particularly not in a joint meeting with fifteen other High Senators present. But from the graphs the Commerce people had drawn up it was clear that the proper approach would be to strike a deal between the shippers and the various mining interests.

And the psychological leverage, he knew from long experience, would go to whoever first offered the suggestion. He threw a glance at old Mleru Jossarian beside him, hoping the senior Lorelei representative here would be fast enough to jump on it before anyone else did.

He wasn't. "It seems pretty obvious," Schmid of Balmoral spoke up. "If those graphs are right, the bulk of the problem lies in the cost of mineral shipments, princ.i.p.ally those from the Lorelei asteroid mines. Perhaps the gentlemen from Lorelei could offer some help."

"I'm sure we can," Jossarian nodded sagely. "A modest adjustment of profit margins via the tax structure should take care of it. I can have the proper papers drawn up and sent to the entire High Senate for vote by tomorrow morning. Then all it'll take-"

Forsythe's tongue unfroze. "Just a minute," he said.

The entire table looked at him. "You have something, Mr. Forsythe?" Jossarian asked mildly.

Forsythe stared at him, tongue threatening to freeze up again. Couldn't Jossarian see it? "Sir, we can't just give away Lorelei's profits," he told the other, keeping his voice low. "Certainly not without getting something in exchange. The majority of the shipping companies are headquartered here on Uhuru-we need a solid commitment, in print, from Mr. Bjani and his people before-"

"Please." Jossarian patted Forsythe's hand, giving him an indulgent smile. "Excuse us," he said to the rest of the table. "You'll have to forgive my colleague; he's new to how we do things here. As I said, I should be able to get a vote on this by tomorrow afternoon and the orders sent to Lorelei by the next day." He looked at Bjani. "Will a fifteen percent reduction be acceptable?"

"It should," the other said, tapping keys on his board. The curves on the display flattened noticeably. "Very acceptable indeed," he nodded. "It will, of course, put a strain on your mining licensees, particularly the smaller companies. My numbers indicate a five percent reduction in equipment transport fees by our licensed shipping companies should be adequate compensation."

Jossarian was already busy with his own board. "Looks good," he said. "Though I'll need to run the numbers a bit more carefully to be sure."

Bjani nodded. "Certainly. Call me whenever you're done and we'll double-check them together."

Jossarian looked at Forsythe. "You see?" he said gently. "It all gets done. And in a much more civilized fashion."

"Indeed," Forsythe murmured. Yes, the High Senate was indeed civilized. Civilized and peaceful; and if this was a representative example of their work, highly productive besides.

And it chilled him straight to the bone.

Because it wasn't breeding or smiles or even efficiency that made a good politician. It was, instead, the absolute, single-minded goal of protecting and nurturing his const.i.tuents' interests.

And you never protected those interests by giving something away for free. Never.

It didn't matter that Bjani had turned around and granted the Lorelei miners a quid pro quo out of the goodness of his heart. It didn't even matter that the proposed trade-off would probably benefit the Empyrean as a whole. What mattered was that Jossarian had been sent to Uhuru to do a job. And he hadn't done it.

Forsythe dropped his gaze from Jossarian's placid face to the sparkling crystal resting against his chest. Once, he knew, Jossarian had been one of the best politicians on Lorelei, a man his father had always talked about with respect and admiration.

But that was before the angels.

"Well," Bjani said, glancing at his display. "I believe that completes all the old business we had on line for this afternoon. Does anyone have any new business they'd care to bring up?"

Forsythe braced himself. "Yes, sir, I have," he said. "I'd like to draw the joint committee's attention to my report on the recent Pax incursions into the Lorelei system. As a Pax invasion would impact rather severely on both commerce and resources," he added quickly, to forestall the obvious objection, "I feel it's within the province of this a.s.sembly to at least discuss the matter."

There was a brief shuffle of what might have been discomfort around the table. Bjani remained unperturbed. "I've read your report, Mr. Forsythe," he acknowledged. "As well as your conclusions. Setting aside the question of whether this is, indeed, a proper forum for such a discussion, it seems to me that you're perhaps taking all of this a little too seriously."

Forsythe stared at him. "Too seriously? With all due respect, Mr. Bjani, I find it highly unlikely that the Pax is throwing all these ships at Lorelei just for the fun of it."

" 'All these ships' is a relative term, Mr. Forsythe," Bjani said soothingly. "Three ships in two weeks hardly qualifies as an invasion fleet."

"They're not likely to just keep escalating numbers until they happen to have enough to do the job," Forsythe countered. "They're also not going to give up the services of three warships for several months unless they stand to gain something equally valuable from it. They're up to something... and in my opinion, that something can only be a pre-invasion reconnaissance."

"Your opinion, and that of former EmDef Commander Pirbazari as well, I note," Rodrez of Sadhai rumbled, his fingers playing across the scan b.u.t.tons on his display. "I see he co-auth.o.r.ed this report."

"He did," Forsythe said. "And I would hope that, given his experience and reputation, his views on military matters would carry even more weight with the High Senate than mine do."

"None of us means to belittle Commander Pirbazari's qualifications," Bjani said. "Nor yours, for that matter. It's simply that, in our opinion, you're both missing the point."

"That point being?"

"That the Pax can't take over the Empyrean," Bjani said, his voice quietly confident. "And that they know it."

Forsythe consciously unclenched his teeth. "Perhaps you've forgotten the first ship they sent in two weeks ago, the Komitadji," he said. "That ship could, in all probability, have taken Lorelei all by itself."

"And what happened to it?" Bjani shrugged. "It failed to make even a dent in the EmDef forces arrayed against it before being 'pulted."

"That's not victory," Forsythe said bluntly. "That's a holding action. Read your history, Mr. Bjani-no one has ever given up territorial ambitions just because it looked like it would take some time and effort to achieve them."

"I have read my history, Mr. Forsythe," Bjani said, a slight edge creeping into his voice. "And perhaps territory is indeed what the Pax once wanted. But not anymore. What they want now is profit."

"You've never dealt directly with the Pax," Jossarian murmured from beside Forsythe. "We have; and we understand them. They love money-love it so much, in fact, that their entire political structure is built on that basis. And the leaders are fully aware that to conquer the Empyrean will cost them far more than they stand to gain."

"Normal military tactics simply can't handle the existence of hypers.p.a.ce nets," Hammura of Seraph put in. "We're like a pre-aircraft mountain nation with only a handful of roads leading in. Easy to defend, incredibly hard to attack."

"Certainly the Pax is up to something," Bjani said. "They're trying to rattle us, hoping we'll get nervous enough to negotiate away concessions they can't win by force." He locked eyes with Forsythe. "But they won't succeed, because we have a strength the Pax can never understand. Our unity. We have no cracks for them to drive wedges into; no factions and jealousies for them to split off and exploit. Unity in mind, and purpose, and heart."

"And all due to the angels," Forsythe muttered, the bitter taste of defeat in his mouth.

"Indeed," Bjani nodded, a small smile on his face. "This is a turning point in mankind's path, Mr. Forsythe. You've read history. Now watch it being made."

He looked around the table. "Now. Any other new business?"

It took until late that night; but by 11:30 Forsythe finally had his computer system set up to search all information nets and official channels for ongoing research work on angels and Angelma.s.s.

Perhaps, he thought more than once during that long evening, the Pax propaganda was in fact true. Perhaps the angels really were robbing the Empyrean's leaders of their humanity. He didn't know. What he did know was that, for whatever reason, the members of the High Senate had lost the ability to fight for their people's best interests. Perhaps for their very survival.

And it was those same leaders who were determined to flood the Empyrean with even more angels.

Leaning back in his chair, Forsythe keyed for a test run-through of his new system. Somewhere out there, buried amid all the studies being done on the angels, there must be something that would give him a handle on stopping this quiet invasion.

He only hoped he could find it before it was too late.

CHAPTER 12.

"The first thing you learn out here," Ornina said, stepping over to the table with the dinner trays, "is that for angel hunters patience isn't just a virtue. It's an absolute necessity."

"I'm starting to realize that," Chandris said, accepting her tray.

And then nearly dropping it as yet another horrible crack! snapped through the Gazelle, somewhere behind her head. Like the whole nurking ship was coming apart, over and over and over...

Crack! "Nurk it," she snarled, wincing at the bite she'd just taken out of her tongue. "Don't those ever stop?"

"Not as long as we're near Angelma.s.s," Ornina said, stirring some sugar into her tea. "Just keep reminding yourself that they're completely harmless." She eyed Chandris over the top of her cup. "And be thankful you are hearing them," she said, her voice going dark. "The only time you don't hear gamma-ray sparks out here is when there's something's seriously wrong with your electronics."

"I'll keep that in mind," Chandris muttered, more sarcastically than she'd meant to be. There was another crack- Settle down, nurk it, she snarled at herself, wondering what the h.e.l.l was wrong with her. Less than half a day into this track and she was already ready to pop the cord on it.

Or, rather, would have been ready if there'd been any way to do it. Out here, millions of kilometers from Seraph or anywhere else, there weren't a lot of places to run.

Was that what was bothering her? The fact that there was nowhere to run?

"Sorry about the food quality," Ornina said.

Chandris snapped out of her thoughts, realized she'd been picking idly at the pasty food on her tray. "It's fine," she said, trying a mouthful.

"You're too generous," Ornina said dryly. "Unfortunately, the diet is another of those things you have to get used to out here. When you spot an angel there's never enough time to get meals or drinks stowed away before you kill ship's rotation and zip off after it. This cheap zero-gee stuff stays with the trays better than real food would-makes the cleanup afterward easier."

"I understand," Chandris said, taking another bite. It was still better than a lot of the meals she'd eaten in her lifetime. "How long before that happens? That we spot an angel, I mean?"

"A few days," Ornina said, digging into her own meal with an enthusiasm that belied her apology for it. Maybe she'd eaten worse in her lifetime, too. "Gabriel's pay scale presupposes that it'll take an average huntership four days out here to capture one."

Four days. Chandris felt her stomach tighten up at the thought. Eleven hours out here and already she was falling apart. And she was supposed to do three and a half more days of it? "What happens if you don't find one in that time?" she asked, though she had a pretty good idea what the answer was going to be.

She was right. "We stay until we do," Ornina said around a mouthful of food. "Sometimes you hit an angel the first hour out of the net; other times you don't find one for a week. It all evens out."

"I see," Chandris murmured. With a sigh, she scooped another mouthful of the paste onto her spoon- And, abruptly, a wailing siren split the air.

Chandris's teeth spasmed down on the spoon, sending a jolt of pain through her jaw. "What-?"

"Acceleration alarm," Ornina snapped, already on her feet. She slapped the lid down on her cup and charged for the door. "Come on-we've got one."

The Gazelles rotation was gone by the time they reached the control cabin. "Strap in," Hanan barked over his shoulder as Chandris got a grip on her chair and jammed her b.u.t.t ungracefully down into it. Ornina, with farther to go to her own seat, was already strapped in. "Here we go-"

The Gazelle's engines roared, and Chandris had to struggle for a second to get the last strap fastened. Swinging her display over in front of her, she keyed for an echo of Ornina's board. "What do you want me to do?" she called over the engine noise.

"Get on the backup tracker," Ornina said, her voice taut. "I'll figure the vector-you double-check me."

"Right." Another gamma-ray crack flashed momentary white on Chandris's display; this time, she hardly noticed it. On the main display was what looked like a blizzard of white, with hundreds of computer-calculated spirals superimposed on top of it. And in the very center, its trace still being drawn...