Angelmass

"Yes, sir," the sensor officer replied, his tone that of someone too far down the chain of command to take offense. "The telemetry was tight-beam, but we were close enough to intercept an edge of it.

And of course, the power readings and noise leakage themselves confirm the net is down."

Telthorst swiveled his glare around to Lleshi. "Did you know an Empyreal ship had gone out to Angelmass?" he demanded. "Because I certainly was not told."

"We observed a ship being catapulted approximately forty-five minutes ago," Lleshi told him evenly. "I didn't consider it worth bringing to your attention."

Telthorst's eyes bored into Lleshi's. "Perhaps you've forgotten how things are supposed to happen aboard this ship, Commodore," he said. "As the Adjutor aboard the Komitadji, I'm to be informed of everything that could have an impact on our mission. Everything. You will then let me decide whether it's worth noting or not."

Lleshi inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment, trying to read past the fury in Telthorst's face.

Why in space was the Adjutor reacting so violently to what was in reality a very minor situation?

Yes, the nets had been shut down; but with the intercepted signal in hand, Crypto Group could surely turn either net back on anytime they wanted.

Unless Telthorst knew something Lleshi didn't. Something about Angelmass? Or about the ship that had headed that way forty-five minutes ago? He had access to private comm cha

Or was this display of official outrage merely the first public salvo in his bid for command of the Komitadji?

"See that you remember," Telthorst said stiffly. "Now. You will tell me what exactly is going on."

Lleshi frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Don't play coy with me," Telthorst warned. "A mysterious ship you didn't think worth mentioning; and now access to Angelmass has suddenly been shut off?"

Lleshi's eyes flicked to Campbell, caught the other's equally puzzled look. "I'm sorry, Adjutor, but I have no idea what you're talking about."

For a long minute Telthorst just stared at him. Then, his lips twitched in an ironic smile. "Very well, Commodore," he said. "You want to play it close? Fine. Perhaps our guests will be more willing to talk when they arrive."

He stood up. "I'll be waiting in the conference room. You will inform me when the High Senator's shuttle has docked."

"You'll be the first to know," Lleshi assured him.

Telthorst nodded curtly and, without another word, stalked to the lift platform and left the balcony.

Lleshi looked across at Campbell. "What do you suppose that was all about?"

Campbell shook his head. "The man's crazy as a crane," he declared. "What does he think, that you've made some private deal with the Empyreals?"

"Certainly sounds like it," Lleshi agreed. "Should add a certain extra degree of spice to the negotiations, wouldn't you say?"

"We'll find out soon enough." Campbell nodded toward the display. "The High Senator's shuttle is on its way."

CHAPTER 43

The motorized wheels of Central's transport carts were useless in the low gravity areas of the centerline corridor. Fortunately, the designers had realized they would be, and had built in a system of ru

Unfortunately, the cables were set at a single, rather lumbering speed. Moving alongside the cart, shepherding the squat fuel canisters balanced precariously on top of it, Kosta listened to the gamma sparks and wondered bleakly if they were going to have enough time for this.

Or, if they did, if the plan would even work.

He reached the midway tu

"All of them," Kosta told her. "But I can go do that. You'd better start programming the escape pods."

"Okay." She glanced around at the collection of canisters. "I don't know, Kosta. If this doesn't work, we're going to be in big trouble."

"Like we aren't already?" Kosta countered, rolling the top canister off his stack and easing it carefully in the minimal gravity to a resting spot on the tu

"Point," Chandris conceded, crouching down beside the nearest escape pod hatchway and punching the release. "What do you want me to set them for?"

"Better make it thirty minutes from now," Kosta told her. "We want to make sure we've got enough time to get everything else ready."

"Right, but we don't want to crunch things the other direction, either," Chandris reminded him as the hatch popped up. "We've only got forty-five minutes until Angelmass gets close enough to cook us, and that only if it doesn't speed up any more. Forty-five minutes minus your thirty gives us only a fifteen-minute margin for error. That's not very much."

"We'll make it," Kosta assured her, pulling off the next canister. "Don't forget, we'll be all the way at the other end of the station when they go off. The extra shielding should be enough."

"If you say so," she said, sitting down on the edge of the opening and finding the ladder with her feet. "Just remember you promised to have enough time to apologize if this doesn't work. I'm going to hold you to that."

None of the summaries of Pax governmental procedure had mentioned the full honor guard and fanfare that was waiting as Forsythe stepped through the shuttle door onto the cold gray docking bay deck. Slowly, automatically matching his pace to the beat of the extended trumpet flourish, he walked between the two lines of men, his eyes flicking from their black-and-red dress uniforms to their expressionless faces to the deadly-looking flash rifles held rigidly in front of them. It was a wonderfully balanced display of ritual pomp, official recognition, and implied threat, and he wondered if this was standard military procedure or something laid on specifically for his benefit.

Ronyon, walking at his side, clearly had no such thoughts or reservations. His eyes were shining as he looked around, his face lit up with a wide childlike grin as he gazed delightedly at the spectacle.

Even with all the ceremonies Ronyon had attended through the years, he never seemed to tire of them.

There were several men and women waiting at the far end of the honor guard lines, with two of their number standing a pace in front of the others. A study in contrasts, Forsythe thought as he approached them, and not just because of their age or their garb. The elder of the two stood straight and tall in his dress uniform, his eyes brightly aware, his face calmly expressionless as he studied the approaching Empyreals. The other man, shorter and dressed in a drab gray suit, was also studying Forsythe; but his eyes and face were hostile and restive and vaguely frustrated. If the soldier standing beside him was a lion watching his approaching prey, the image flashed through Forsythe's mind, this man was a vulture waiting impatiently for something to die.

The musicians were good, timing their flourish to a dramatic finale just as Forsythe came to a halt three paces from the soldier and the vulture. "I'm High Senator Arkin Forsythe of Lorelei," he identified himself, his voice sounding oddly weak after the echoing brass. A nice little added bonus, he thought distantly, to the rest of the ceremony's psychological manipulation. "Currently representing the Seraph government. Do I have the honor of addressing Commodore Vars Lleshi?"

"I am Commodore Lleshi," the older man acknowledged, his voice as measured and intelligent as his eyes and face. He was older than he had seemed from a distance, Forsythe saw now, but he carried the years well. "Welcome aboard the Komitadji, High Senator. May I present my senior staff—" he gestured to the line of men and women behind him—"and our ship's Adjutor, Mr. Samunel Telthorst."