Angelmass

His lip twitched. "You're sure?"

"I've run the numbers three times," she said. "We've got seventy minutes, exactly. How far are you on your reading?"

"Not far enough," he said grimly. "I've got at least another half hour to go, and it looks more and more like the programing will take a solid hour after that. Even with two of us working on it."

"Then it's over," Chandris said gently, or as gently as she could when she had to practically shout the words. "Come on, let's get back to the Gazelle."

"No."

She sighed, getting to her feet and crossing to him. "Jereko, it's over."

"No it's not," he repeated flatly, his eyes flicking around the room. "We can do it. We have to do it.

We just need to buy ourselves some more time."

"How?" Chandris demanded. "This isn't the Gazelle, where we can outrun the thing if we can find the right direction. This is a space station. It hasn't got any drive engines."

"Then we have to find a way to slow Angelmass down," Kosta said slowly. "Decoy it, maybe..."

He trailed off, an odd light suddenly in his eyes. "I hope you're not thinking what I think you're thinking," Chandris warned, her stomach suddenly tight. There was something about that look that reminded her of Hanan and Ornina, hell-bent on being noble and self-sacrificing, no matter what the cost.

And if that cost included the Gazelle... "May I point out that the Gazelle's our only ticket out of here?" she said carefully.

"I know," he said, swiveling back to his board. "Is there any spare fuel aboard? Like for shuttles and hunterships that have run short?"

"I can check," Chandris said, sitting down beside him again and pulling up a floorplan and inventory list. "Jereko..."

"I know," Kosta said, leaning close to look at the schematic. "Trust me."

"And if you're wrong?"

His breath was warm against her cheek. "I'll try to have enough time to apologize."

The shuttle had been prepped, the pilot chosen and briefed; and Forsythe was looking over all the information the Empyrean had on Pax law and government when the word came that the Seraph huntership net had been shut down.

"What do you mean, shut down?" Forsythe demanded, frowning. "I left specific orders that it be left open."

"They say the command came from Central," Pirbazari said, his voice studiously neutral. It was a tone he'd used a lot in the past hour, Forsythe had noted with a growing uneasiness. "With Angelmass about twenty-one light-minutes away, that means the signal was transmitted within twenty minutes of their arrival at the net. Figure in maneuvering, docking, and debarkation time, and it looks like shutting down the Seraph net was the second thing they did once they got onto the station."

"The second thing?"

"Yes," Pirbazari said. "Shutting down Central's own net was number one. Seraph Control says the telemetry for that came through a few minutes before their own net closed down."

Forsythe forced himself to meet the other's gaze. "You still think I've made a deal with Kosta, don't you?" he said quietly. "Fine. Then tell me this: what does shutting down the net here gain him?"

"I don't know," Pirbazari said evenly. "But then, I don't know what going up there in the first place gains him. All I know is that the Komitadji destroyed one of Seraph system's main nets on the way in; and now Kosta has shut down two more. Coincidence?"

"He's been hanging around Angelmass and the Institute for months," Forsythe pointed out. "Surely he knows by now that the huntership system is binary linked. Those nets make no difference to traffic in or out of the system."

"One would think he'd know that," Pirbazari acknowledged. "But maybe he's a slow learner." His right eyebrow twitched. "Or maybe there's something else going on that I don't know about."

"If there is, I don't know about it either," Forsythe said, feeling sweat breaking out on his forehead.

Pirbazari was, as best he could tell, about half a micron from breaking his self-imposed silence and a

The only things that might be holding him back were a lack of proof and whatever residual loyalty he still might have for the man he'd worked with for so long. And neither of those were going to last forever.

"High Senator?" General Roshmanov called from the doorway. "Your shuttle is ready."

Pirbazari waved in acknowledgement. "That's it. Let's get to it."

Forsythe braced himself. Possibly not even through the next thirty seconds, he amended. "You're not going, Zar," he said.

Pirbazari had been looking down as he fastened his jacket. Now, slowly, he looked up. "What?"

"You're former military," Forsythe reminded him. "You know too much about EmDef procedures, perso

"What about you?" Pirbazari demanded. "An Empyreal High Senator?"

"I know a little about military expenditures and far too much about council etiquette," Forsythe said with a grimace. "Nothing that's going to help with their war effort."

"But this isn't just a war effort," Pirbazari countered. "This world-swallowing technique of theirs is as much political as it is military. And you're the local expert on political matters."

Forsythe sighed. "What do you want me to say? Someone has to go."

Pirbazari's shoulders hunched fractionally. "So you're going alone?"

"I'm not that brave," Forsythe said. "No, I'm taking Ronyon."

"Ronyon," Pirbazari repeated, giving him that look again. "Interesting choice. I don't think we can expect to get sympathy votes from the Pax."

Forsythe stared at him, an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Is that why you think he's still with me?" he asked. "For sympathy?"

"I didn't used to think so," Pirbazari said. "But then, I once thought I knew you, too. Now—" His eyes dropped to the angel pendant around Forsythe's neck. "I don't know what to think anymore."

"Then just trust me," Forsythe urged.

"I always have trusted you," Pirbazari said. "I've always believed that you wanted the best for the Empyreal people."

He glanced at Forsythe's chest again. "Now, I'm not so sure."

"That is all I want, Zar," Forsythe said, his throat aching. With the Empyrean threatening to come crashing down around them all, he suddenly realized that the friendship and loyalty of his people was all he had left. All, perhaps, that any of them had left. "It truly is. Give me this one last chance.

Please."

Pirbazari took a deep breath. "I suppose I don't really have any choice, do I? Okay, High Senator.

Just... good luck."

Forsythe touched his arm. "I'll be back soon." He started to turn away.

"High Senator?"

Forsythe turned back. "Yes?"

"When you return," Pirbazari said softly, "we are going to have a long talk about this. A long talk."

Forsythe nodded. "Indeed."

Triggering his call stick to summon Ronyon, he turned away again and headed to where General Roshmanov stood waiting for him, his back u

No, Ronyon wasn't going to be along for any sympathy his presence might be able to squeeze out of the ice-rimmed hearts of the Pax conquerors. But if there were to be any miracles of concession or compassion coming out of this confrontation, it would be Ronyon who held the key.

Pirbazari didn't understand that, of course. But then, Forsythe could hardly explain to him that Ronyon was the one carrying the angel.

Or perhaps an explanation wouldn't have been necessary. Perhaps Pirbazari already knew.

And as he followed General Roshmanov out under the hot afternoon sun toward the waiting shuttle, he wished darkly that he, the Empyrean, and the universe had never heard of angels.

"You're sure?" Telthorst demanded in that tone that always seem to imply he suspected someone of lying to him.