Part 58 (1/2)

”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 cras.h.i.+ng down around them all, he suddenly realized that the friends.h.i.+p 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 unnaturally stiff.

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 compa.s.sion 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.

”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 Lles.h.i.+. ”Did you know an Empyreal s.h.i.+p had gone out to Angelma.s.s?” he demanded. ”Because I certainly was not told.”

”We observed a s.h.i.+p being catapulted approximately forty-five minutes ago,” Lles.h.i.+ told him evenly. ”I didn't consider it worth bringing to your attention.”

Telthorst's eyes bored into Lles.h.i.+'s. ”Perhaps you've forgotten how things are supposed to happen aboard this s.h.i.+p, 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.”

Lles.h.i.+ inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment, trying to read past the fury in Telthorst's face. Why in s.p.a.ce 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 Lles.h.i.+ didn't. Something about Angelma.s.s? Or about the s.h.i.+p that had headed that way forty-five minutes ago? He had access to private comm channels; could he have made some private deal with the Empyreals?

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.”

Lles.h.i.+ frowned. ”What do you mean?”

”Don't play coy with me,” Telthorst warned. ”A mysterious s.h.i.+p you didn't think worth mentioning; and now access to Angelma.s.s has suddenly been shut off?”

Lles.h.i.+'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,” Lles.h.i.+ a.s.sured him.

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

Lles.h.i.+ 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,” Lles.h.i.+ 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 running cables set into deep grooves that the carts could hook onto for motive power.

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 tunnel just as Chandris was coming in from the other side with a cart even more overloaded than his was. ”There's about one and a half more cartloads left in this side,” she reported, letting the transport coast to a halt beside the stack of fuel canisters the two had already moved in. ”How many more do you want?”

”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 tunnel floor.

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