Part 31 (2/2)
Except that Forsythe had already told her not to go after Ronyon. If she was up to something else...
The program beeped notice that it was done. Reaching to the board, Kosta keyed for the results.
He might as well not have bothered. ”You're right,” he said to Hanan as he dumped the screen. ”One s.h.i.+p and one year just aren't enough.”
”The catapult itself should have complete records, though,” Ornina pointed out. ”Perhaps you could ask them to send us a data copy, High Senator.”
”I'm sure I could,” Forsythe said. ”However, as I told Mr. Daviee, I'm here on a strictly unofficial basis. I'd like to keep it that way.”
”I see.” Ornina looked at Hanan, and in her face Kosta could see that that bit of information had somehow missed getting pa.s.sed to her. ”I'm sorry. Ah-”
”The Inst.i.tute should also have them,” Kosta spoke up quickly. ”When we get back I'll get Yaezon to look them up for me.”
”There might be another way to get the information now, though,” Hanan said, an odd tone to his voice as he tapped keys. ”If they happen to have a new trainee or two on station at Control...”
He cleared his throat; and he was launching into a very official-sounding speech as Kosta quietly slipped out of the room.
He went first to Hanan's and Ornina's cabins, not from any real expectation of finding Chandris there but merely as a reasonable place to start his search. To his surprise, however, he heard the faint sound of running water as he approached. Someone inside Ornina's cabin was apparently taking a shower.
For a long moment he hesitated outside the door, a half dozen scenarios-some of them decidedly discomfiting-scrambling through his mind. But if Chandris was up to something underhanded, it was his duty to intervene. Bracing himself, he opened the door and went in.
No one was in the main living area, but there was a neat stack of clothes on the bed-Ronyon's, Kosta tentatively identified them. At the back of the room, through the open bathroom doorway, he could see back to the shower.
The shower door was only slightly translucent, but that was enough. The size and shape of the shadow showed that it was Ronyon in there. Alone.
Quickly, Kosta backed out into the corridor, cheeks hot with embarra.s.sment and annoyance. The Chandris Effect, all right: give him half an hour with her and he'd make a fool of himself somehow. But at least she wasn't pulling some scam on Ronyon.
So where was she?
He looked up and down the corridor, wondering if there was any point in continuing the search. She'd probably left on some perfectly innocent s.h.i.+p's business, after all. For all he knew, Ornina or Hanan might even have openly sent her away while he was preoccupied with his statistics program.
Then, from down the corridor, he heard a faint grinding sound.
The sound came and went three more times before he located its source: the machine shop. Inside, hunched intently over a grinder, was Chandris.
”There you are,” Kosta said, stepping inside. ”What are you doing here?”
She didn't jump in her seat or spin around or do any of the other things people were supposed to do when they were caught doing something wrong. But it seemed to Kosta that she took a fraction of a second too long before turning her head to look at him. ”What does it look like I'm doing?” she countered mildly. ”I'm working.”
”Now?” he asked, moving to her side and leaning over to look at the grinder. Held snugly in an electronics clamp was a small lens-shaped piece of crystal. ”With the s.h.i.+p about to hit the catapult?”
”Why not?” she said with a shrug. ”Hanan and Ornina can handle the s.h.i.+p without me. Anyway, it felt a little crowded up there.”
”Uh-huh,” he said, frowning down at the crystal. There was something about the size and shape that seemed familiar somehow...
”Don't you have some work of your own to do?” she interrupted his musings. ”Calibrating your equipment or something?”
”No, everything's done,” he said absently. He had seen something just like that crystal-he knew he had. Recently, too. If he could just chase down the memory...
”Okay, then, to h.e.l.l with politeness,” Chandris said. ”Go away and let me work.”
”Fine,” Kosta said, straightening up. ”You don't have to get huffy.” He gave the crystal one last look- And suddenly the mental picture he'd been searching for dropped neatly into place. High Senator Forsythe, outside the Gazelle, offering his hand for the respect gesture. And fastened to a chain around his neck, the delicate gold filigree and crystal of- Kosta focused sharply on Chandris; and in her face he could see she knew he'd figured it out. ”Okay,” she growled. ”So?”
”So?” Kosta hissed. ”Are you crazy?”
”They need the money,” she said. ”They need it for the s.h.i.+p; they especially need it for Hanan. He's got a degenerative nerve disease, in case you haven't bothered to notice.”
”That was unfair,” Kosta said coldly. ”I was the one who carried him down to the medpack,
remember?”
She looked at him a moment... and for a wonder, nodded agreement. ”You're right,” she acknowledged. ”It was a cheap shot.”
”Yes, it was,” Kosta nodded back, some of his anger draining away. ”Look, I'm sorry about Hanan. I'd like to see him get fixed up, too. But this isn't the way to do it.”
She gazed evenly up at him. ”How are you going to stop me? Without getting me in trouble, that is?” Kosta grimaced. So she thought that it was her he was trying to avoid getting into trouble. If she only knew. ”I'll tell the Daviees,” he said, turning back toward the door. ”I'm sure they can find a way to keep you away from Forsythe's angel.”
”Forsythe doesn't have the angel,” Chandris called after him. ”Ronyon does.”
Kosta turned back. ”What are you talking about?” he demanded. ”Ronyon isn't wearing an angel.”
”No, he's carrying it in his pocket,” she said. ”That's why I spilled machine oil on him and sent him
to the shower. So I could find it and get a close look.”
Kosta frowned at her. Could they be issuing angels even to High Senators' aides now?
No-ridiculous. ”They don't give angels to aides,” he told Chandris. ”Just to the High Senators themselves.””Well, then, he's got Forsythe's angel,” Chandris insisted. ”Maybe he stole it.””But Forsythe's wearing-””He's wearing a fake,” Chandris said. She gestured to the unfinished crystal in the clamp. ”Just like this one.”
A cold chill ran up Kosta's back. A High Senator, with a fake angel? ”There has to be a mistake,” he said between suddenly stiff lips.
”Not a chance,” Chandris said. ”I know what an angel feels like up close.”
Kosta thought back to his own first encounter with one of the Inst.i.tute's angels. He hadn't felt a
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