Angelmass

Kosta dropped his eyes to his display. "Documented?" he asked. "I mean, really documented?"

"We've got data from five hundred thirty-eight High Senators who were in office both before and after the law requiring them to wear angels," Gyasi said. "Over a third of them had occasionally or frequently skated to the edge of ethical and legal behavior. Influence peddling, abuse of power, financial irregularities—you know the list. Now, twenty years later, that sort of thing just doesn't happen. Some of them took years to change; but they did change."

"Maybe it was peer pressure," Kosta suggested, uncomfortably aware that he was grasping at straws.

"Or better public awareness of their activities that caused them to back off."

"The people who did the studies didn't think so," Gyasi said. "The reports are there—go ahead and look them up."

Kosta looked up from the display, shook his head. Quanta of good... "Sorry, but I still don't buy it."

Gyasi shrugged. "You're welcome to try and prove the theory wrong," he said equably. "That's what science is all about. Personally, I had enough philosophical struggles before the angels and Acchaa came along. I wouldn't especially mind if this particular complication got eliminated."

He leaned forward, an odd expression on his face. "But while you and your open mind are trying to find another explanation, take a little time to consider the possibilities if this really is true. The chances we'll have to finally get at the root cause of evil and injustice in the universe."

"What do you mean?" Kosta asked, easing back in his chair. The other's sudden intensity was u

"Suppose we can find a way to create the same effect without having to have angels physically on hand, for instance," Gyasi said earnestly. "That's one of the things my group's working on: trying to isolate the physical mechanism that the angels use to alter brain chemistry or neural structure. Dr.

Shivaprasad's group, downstairs in Basic Research, is trying to devise a way of detecting the presence of natural angels in people; Dr. MaecDavz and his group are doing the same thing from another direction, trying to see if angels can leave residual field effects of themselves in physical objects. Think of what that might mean for the interpretation of history or current events."

Abruptly, he broke off. "Sorry," he apologized, looking a little sheepish. "I sometimes lie in bed at night having imaginary arguments with the people out there who'd try to shut us down as blasphemers if they knew what we were doing and thinking here. Sometimes those arguments leak out a little."

"That's all right," Kosta assured him. "I gather you think it would be a waste of time for me to try and split the ion shells off the angels."

"I think so, yes," the other said with a shrug. "But I'm hardly the last word on how the universe operates. If Director Podolak gives you the go-ahead, I'd say go ahead." He glanced at his watch and stood up, giving his chair a shove back toward his own desk. "As for me, I've got a tissue sample waiting in the bio lab. See you later."

"Right," Kosta said as the other pulled open the door. "Enjoy yourself."

Gyasi flashed a grin and was gone, closing the door behind him.

Kosta stared at the closed door, a shiver ru

To alter brain chemistry and neural structure...

The words seemed to hang there in the silence like some strange and unpleasant smell. Once again, it was back: the whole disturbing question of how Kosta himself was going to avoid being affected by the angels.

Once again, he had no answer.

CHAPTER 10

With a jerk, Chandris woke to find herself moving.

For a second she lay there in the dark, panic bubbling in her throat as she tried furiously to break through the fog of sleep and confusion. The unfamiliar bed beneath her jolted to the side; and as it did so, the disorientation cleared.

The Gazelle, and the Daviees... and Angelmass.

Twisting around on the narrow cot that took up half the tiny cabin's floor space, she fumbled in the dark for the light switch. The ceiling went on, a low night-level glow that didn't burn her eyes as she swung her legs out of bed and planted her feet on the icy metal floor. A six o'clock lift, Ornina had said; but the clock built into the computer desk read only four thirty-five. Either Ornina had gotten her wires crossed, or something was wrong.

The Gazelle jerked again. Gritting her teeth, Chandris reached for her new coverall jumpsuit and started pulling it on.

The narrow corridors were silent and night-level dim as she made her way along them toward the front of the ship, occasionally bumping into walls as the Gazelle continued its rocking movement.

Amid the occasional creaking of metal she could hear a faint whine, nothing at all like the dull background roar that had been a constant part of life aboard the Xirrus.

Her original goal had been the forward control cabin, but she was barely halfway there when she began to hear traces of what sounded like music over the whine. Following the sound, she came upon an open door spilling light into the corridor. Moving as stealthily as she could on the unstable floor, she eased up to the door and looked inside.

"Well, good morning," Ornina said, looking up from a mess of disassembled electronics spread out on a lab table in front of her and throwing Chandris a smile. "What are you doing—just a second," she interrupted herself, turning toward the expensive-looking sound system in the corner. "Music command: volume down two," she ordered.

The music obediently went softer. "One of our few luxuries," Ornina confessed, looking back at Chandris. "But we both love music, and it's so nice to be able to fiddle with it when both hands are full. Don't just stand there—come on in. What in the world are you doing up this early?"

"I thought something was wrong," Chandris told her, feeling a little foolish as she stepped into the room. "We weren't supposed to leave until six, were we?"

"To leave Seraph, yes," Ornina nodded. "But we can hardly launch from our service port, now, can we?"

"No, of course not," Chandris agreed, a

Ornina shook her head, turning back to the equipment spread out in front of her. "No 'or so' about it," she said, picking up a tiny block and peering closely at it. "When Shikari launch control gives you a slot, you'd better be on the launch strip at that time and not a minute later. Otherwise, you go to the end of the roster and maybe don't even get off that day. Ach."

Shaking her head, she handed Chandris the block. "Be a dear and tell me what the number on this strytram is, will you?"

"Uh..." Chandris frowned at the faded gray printing, wondering uneasily if she was supposed to know what a strytram was. "It looks like CR 57743. Or maybe CR 57748—the last one's not all there."

"It's a 48," Ornina nodded, taking it back. "It was the 77 I wasn't sure of. Thank you."

"You're welcome." Chandris looked around at the other pieces. "What's all this from, anyway?"

"A Senamaec high-end sampler," Ornina identified it. "Our backup, fortunately, or we'd be in trouble. I don't suppose you've ever worked on one before?"

"Afraid not," Chandris said, forcing her voice to remain casual. The Xirrus's files had never mentioned Senamaec high-end samplers. Belatedly, she was starting to realize that those files hadn't been nearly as complete as she'd thought. "Where's Mr. Daviee?" she asked, to change the subject.