Angelmass

"We'll soon find out," Lleshi said. "Keep a close watch for atmospheric craft lurking beneath clouds and in high mountain cubbyholes. They might be banking on our fighters not handling as well in atmosphere as theirs do."

"In which case they're in for a bad surprise." Campbell cocked his head slightly. "Speaking of fighters, sir, are you going to send a squad ahead to clear a path?"

"As Adjutor Telthorst wants, you mean?" Lleshi said sourly. "You're the tactical officer, Mr.

Campbell. You tell me."

Campbell hesitated. "There is a certain logic to it," he hedged. "Depending on the strength and type of mines, they could pose a significant danger to the Komitadji's hull-mounted sensors and weapons emplacements."

"Do you think that's what Mr. Telthorst is concerned about?" Lleshi pressed.

Campbell glanced down onto the main command deck floor, as if checking to see if Telthorst was on his way back from his own rest break. "Not really, sir, no," he conceded. "I think he mostly wants to keep the Komitadji in pristine condition for the victory flyover of the Supreme Council cathedra."

"That was my impression, as well," Lleshi said. "So that's agreed. We ignore him."

"Yes, sir," Campbell said, not looking particularly happy. "Sir... permission to speak freely?"

"Certainly."

Campbell seemed to brace himself. "Any Adjutor assigned to a ship like the Komitadji is by definition a highly placed official. He has a great deal of power; and you and he have not gotten along as well as everyone might have hoped."

"So far, you're stating the obvious," Lleshi said. "Are you suggesting I abandon my military duty in favor of watching my political back?"

"I'm suggesting it might be prudent to try to find some middle ground," Campbell said. "A

compromise that allows him to save face while at the same time not putting our people at u

"I see," Lleshi said, studying his face. "And all of this wise counsel is welling spontaneously from your own sense of decency and compassion?"

Campbell's lip twisted, just noticeably. "Mr. Telthorst called me into his cabin yesterday after we chased away the net defenses. He told me that you had brought the Komitadji to Seraph without orders, and said that if your irrational defiance persisted he might have to relieve you of command."

"And he offered you my job?"

"No, I think he intended to put on the commodore's tunic himself," Campbell said, a trace of disgust seeping through his rigid control. "He mostly wanted to see whose side I would be on if that happened. To find out whether or not I would join in mutiny against lawful authority, I believe is how he put it."

"Interesting," Lleshi murmured. "I appreciate your candor. And I won't ask what answer you gave him."

Campbell's face reddened slightly. "Sir—"

"Carry on, SeTO," Lleshi said, turning and stepping back to his station. Seating himself, he swiveled away from Campbell and called up the Komitadji's fuel consumption for the past four hours.

So there it was at last. It had been a long time in coming; but Telthorst was finally preparing to challenge his control of the Komitadji. And for him to be sounding out Lleshi's senior officers, he must be feeling pretty confident that the time and opportunity were rapidly approaching.

Lleshi sighed, a silent lungful of air that seemed to come from the center of his soul, his thoughts drifting back to the day he'd been given his first commission and sent aboard his first ship. Then, the Pax Defense Fleet had been exactly that: a bulwark of protection for the people of Earth and her fellow worlds. The Supreme Council had been supreme in fact, not just in name, and the Adjutors simply an advisory arm of the government charged with watching finances and expenditures.

Now, nearly half a century later, it had somehow all turned inside out. The military's primary mission had become one of conquest, its strategy and tactics driven by money and profit and gain.

Money to feed the Pax's hungry coffers, profit for the delight of the shadowy men who were the real power behind the Council; gain that was immediately turned around and used to finance the next conquest.

The Komitadji had been built for only one purpose: to be so huge and so terrifying that its very appearance would frighten wayward colonies into surrendering without wasting valuable resources on useless defiance. Perhaps even as they had reluctantly authorized the necessary funds the Adjutors had looked forward to the day when they could take the ship for their own, to control it without having to work through the military chain of command.

Now, it seemed, Telthorst was ready to make that move.

And as far as Lleshi was concerned, he was welcome to it.

It was a surprising thought, one that was almost as stu

But the older Commodore Lleshi could see clearly the road the universe was taking. The Adjutors had been wi

And Lleshi was tired of fighting them.

Perhaps Telthorst would prove to be a competent commander. Probably not. But either way, at this point it wasn't worth a battle that would tear his crew apart in a power struggle. Certainly not in the middle of action against a hostile force.

Because no matter how incompetent Telthorst turned out to be, even he couldn't do anything to seriously threaten the Komitadji, not even with all the help the Empyreal Defense Force could muster. Perhaps if he embarrassed himself badly enough, it would at least slow the Adjutors down in their rush to total power.

So let the Adjutor have his moment of glory. In the meantime, the real commander of the Komitadji had an assault to plan. Signing off on the fuel reports, he keyed for the latest reports from Sensor and Tactical and began to read.

Chandris's familiarity with huntership procedure and perso

But it was quickly apparent that no amount of charm was going to get them past the Angelmass catapult.

"You must be kidding, Gazelle," the operator said, his voice firm. "Don't you read your own agency's reports? All travel to Angelmass Central has been shut down. Period; end of comment; close file."

"Then I suggest you reopen that file," Chandris said acidly. "This is a rescue mission, set up and bluethree-coded by High Senator Forsythe himself."

"A what?" the operator demanded. He still sounded firm, but Kosta could hear a trickle of doubt now in his voice.

"What, your ears need cleaning?" Chandris said. "A rescue mission. Someone finally counted heads on the evac shuttle and realized they left someone on Central. We're going out to get her."

"Oh, hell," the operator muttered. "Who is it?"

"Comm supervisor named Jiselle," Chandris said. "You know her?"

"Met her once," the operator muttered. "Not worth rescuing, if you ask me."

"High Senator Forsythe apparently doesn't share your opinion," Chandris said. "Now, are you going to 'pult us, or do we have to drag him out of his meeting and have him personally explain to you what exactly a blue-three means?"