Angelmass

Turning away and ru

"What's going on?" Forsythe demanded. "Where are they going?"

"They're retreating," Pirbazari said. "The order just came in to—"

"Order?" Forsythe echoed. "What order? Give me that phone."

"Sir—"

Forsythe snatched the phone out of his hand. "This is High Senator Forsythe," he bit out. "What's going on?"

"The EmDef forces are withdrawing, High Senator," a young-sounding female voice answered.

"I can see that," Forsythe snapped. "Turn them around. All of them."

"Sir?"

"You heard me," Forsythe said. "Turn them around and attack."

No one replied. "Soldier?" Forsythe said. "Did you hear me? Soldier?"

"High Senator, this is General Roshmanov," a new voice came on. "Is there a problem?"

"Yes, there's a problem," Forsythe ground out. "Why are your forces withdrawing in the face of the enemy?"

"Sir, there's no way those destroyers can stand up against something that size," Roshmanov said. "It would be nothing less than suicide."

"It would be war," Forsythe insisted. "Isn't that the reason EmDef exists? To risk and possibly give their lives in the defense of the Empyrean?"

"To give their lives in battle, yes, High Senator," Roshmanov said. "But not to throw them away for nothing."

"And how do you know it would be for nothing?" Forsythe countered. Vaguely, he was aware that his voice was rising, but at the moment he didn't give a single damn. "How do you know until you try?"

"Sir, if you would just take a look at the size of that—"

"So it's big," Forsythe snarled. "So what? Do you always give up and surrender without a fight just because you're not sure you can win?"

Pirbazari was tugging at his sleeve. Angrily, Forsythe shook off his hand. "You listen to me, General," he said. "You're going to attack, and you're going to attack now. Get those ships back together and hit it."

"I'm sorry, High Senator," Roshmanov said, his voice icy cold. "This is an EmDef matter, and an EmDef decision. And I will not order men and women to their deaths for no reason."

"General—"

"Sir!" Pirbazari said insistently, tugging even harder at his sleeve. Forsythe threw a glare at him—

And what he saw made him pause for a second look. Pirbazari was staring at him, his eyes narrowed, his mouth slightly open, his throat muscles taut. Staring at him as if at a stranger. "Sir," he whispered hoarsely, his head jerking slightly to the side.

With an effort, Forsythe tore his eyes away and looked around him.

They were all staring at him. All of them. All of these high government officials gazing at him in astonishment or furtive disbelief or even out-and-out fear.

And not all of them, he realized suddenly, were looking at his face. Some of them were gazing in confusion at his neck, where his angel pendant glittered against his shirt.

Rather, his fake angel pendant.

Slowly, with a supreme effort, he lowered the phone away from his ear. Pirbazari was ready, taking it from him and tucking it quickly away. "It's all right, sir," he said. "This is just a retreat. It doesn't mean the war is lost."

Forsythe took a deep breath, let it out in a ragged sigh. "I know," he said, his voice sounding strained but mostly under control again. "How long till they're here?"

"From that distance?" Pirbazari's eyes darted to the screen, came back again. "Less than a day if they push it. No more than three even if they're not in any particular hurry."

"They'll be in a hurry," Forsythe told him grimly. "Trust me."

"We should know for sure in an hour or so, once we see what kind of vector profile they set for themselves." Pirbazari hesitated. "Which leads to the question of how we a

Forsythe looked back at the screen. "We don't," he said.

There was a ripple of reaction around the room. "Sir, I don't think we can do that," Pirbazari said carefully. "I mean, all of EmDef already knows about it—"

"EmDef should also know how to keep their mouths shut," Forsythe cut him off. "If we move quickly, we should be able to block all communications from the various off-planet stations and research platforms."

"You don't think someone will figure it out once that thing floats past overhead?" someone demanded. "Come on, High Senator, be realistic. We have to warn them."

"I am being realistic," Forsythe said stiffly. "I'm thinking that at this point all a warning will accomplish will be to precipitate a night of planet-wide panic."

"The people have a right to know," the other insisted.

"To what end?" Forsythe asked. "What's anyone going to do in twelve or fifteen or twenty hours?

Grab a rifle and aim it skyward? Throw his family into a line car and try to escape into the hills? Do you really think that kind of chaos will do anyone any good?"

"Maybe the High Senator is thinking of trying to get a little more distance himself," another voice put in.

Forsythe didn't even bother to turn in that direction. "We will do everything in our power to prepare a proper military reception for the invaders," he said quietly. "Everything EmDef can put together will be waiting when they arrive. But it will take everything they have. I don't want any of EmDef's people or resources having to be diverted for crowd or looting control."

He looked back at Pirbazari. "There's nothing the general public can do to help," he said. "They might as well have one last peaceful night's sleep."

Pirbazari licked his upper lip, a quick swipe of his tongue tip. "Yes, sir," he said. He wasn't happy with the decision, Forsythe knew.

But he could also tell that the other realized the basic wisdom of it. "I'm sure you'll be wanting to get over to EmDef HQ as soon as possible to oversee the defense preparations," Pirbazari went on. "But right now, you have a visitor waiting in your office."

It was a second before the words co

He started to turn away. A sudden thought struck him, and he turned back. "What happened with the Number Four catapult ship?" he asked, searching the screen for it.

"It's on its way back to Seraph with the others," Pirbazari said. "The Pax fighters abandoned their attacks when the EmDef ships began their retreat."

"Never mind the fighters," Forsythe said, frowning. "What about that Hellfire missile?"

"It self-destructed," Pirbazari said. "A few seconds after the Komitadji destroyed the catapult end of Number Two."

Forsythe felt his lip twist. "I guess they didn't want to damage any more of the spoils of war than they had to."

"Yes, sir, that's probably it," Pirbazari agreed. "Shall we go?"

Silently, Forsythe followed him out through the crowd, bitterness and guilt eating into his stomach.

Pirbazari might believe that line about Pax greed. All of those who had heard it might believe it. It might even be true.

But he couldn't escape the sobering realization that, while he had been ready to order his own people into a suicide attack, the Pax commander had deliberately destroyed one of his own missiles rather than waste Empyreal lives.

And the Pax commander wasn't even wearing an angel. What did that say about angels?

More importantly, what did it say about Forsythe himself?