Angelmass

CHAPTER 19

Kosta read the printout twice, a cold knot settling into his stomach. "I don't understand," he said.

"I don't understand either," Director Podolak confessed. "All I can suggest is that someone on Uhuru scrambled up somewhere. Confused you with someone else, perhaps."

Kosta grimaced. Or else they hadn't confused him with someone else. Perhaps someone on Uhuru had unraveled the fragile paper credit line reaching back to the Pax computer setup on Lorelei.

Calm down, he ordered himself firmly. If Empyreal security had gotten that far, they'd hardly tip their hand by simply shutting off his funding. "That must be it," he agreed aloud with Podolak. "So what do we do while we wait for them to unscramble it?"

Podolak pursed her lips. "That's the problem," she said. "Not only has your personal credit line been frozen, but there's also an attached order forbidding any use of Empyreal funds in your behalf. And since all the credit lines I have available to me are government funds..."

The knot in Kosta's stomach, which had slowly been loosening, began to tighten again. "Are you saying," he said carefully, "that I'm effectively bankrupt?"

"It's not quite as bad as that," Podolak assured him. "Your room and board here at the Institute have already been covered for the next two and a half weeks, so at least you won't have to worry about starving. And as long as we don't need the space for anyone else, I don't see why you can't continue to use your office."

"But no computer time, I suppose."

"I'm afraid not," Podolak shook her head. "Or access to any of the labs, either."

Kosta looked down at the paper in his hand, steeling himself. "Or the Institute ship?"

"Or the Institute ship," she agreed. "I'm sorry; I know you were scheduled to go up tomorrow."

"It wasn't going to be a joyride," he told her, the words coming out harsher than he'd intended. It was a blatant breach of manners, but Podolak didn't seem to notice. "I have an experiment aboard. A very important experiment."

"It's going to have to come off," Podolak said quietly. Her eyes, Kosta could see, were hurting; but her voice was firm. "Space aboard the ship is paid for out of your credit line."

Kosta squeezed the paper hard between thumb and fingers, trying hard to choke down his frustration.

It had taken him over a month to design and build a detector to sample these particular segments of Angelmass's emission spectrum, segments carefully chosen to give him some sort of handle on what was happening out there. There had to be a way to get it aboard. "What if I can get someone else to pay for the space?" he asked Podolak. "I've been consulting with Dr. Qhahenlo—maybe she can put the thing on her credit line, and get Gyasi or someone to operate it. Would that be acceptable?"

"Under some circumstances, yes," Podolak nodded. "Unfortunately, in this case Dr. Qhahenlo's own credit line comes from Sadhai, and she would need special permission in advance to run your experiment for you. She told me her backers will almost certainly grant it; but since it would take a minimum of twenty-four hours to get the request there and back by skeeter, you'd still wind up missing this flight."

"You already talked to her about it?"

"Her, and a few others. I hoped I could have a solution for you before I told you about the problem.

I'm sorry."

Kosta exhaled silently. "Thanks for trying."

"Part of my job." She gave him half a smile. "I know it's frustrating, but try to remember that it's not the end of the world. I've already got a message on the next skeeter to Uhuru asking for a clarification. Chances are all you're looking at here is a three- or four-day vacation."

"But no matter what, I'll still miss the flight out to Angelmass."

"I know," Podolak agreed sympathetically. "And I know how much of a disappointment it'll be to have to wait another month for the next trip. But it's only a month, after all. In the universal scheme of things, that's not so much."

Standing there, looking at the sympathy and sincerity in her face, Kosta's mouth suddenly went dry.

"I appreciate your time and effort, Director Podolak," he managed, folding the paper and slipping it into his pocket. "Thank you. I'll—I guess I'll figure out something to do."

"I'm sure you will," Podolak said as he turned toward the door. "And if you need any help or advice, feel free to come to me."

It probably hadn't been a very polite exit, Kosta realized as he headed down the stairway. But to stand there and hear her say that a month, more or less, shouldn't really matter...

Unbidden, that first close-up look he'd had of the Komitadji rose before his eyes. If Podolak only knew how much difference the next month could make.

It was a beautiful day outside; brilliant sunshine in a clear blue sky, with wispy easterly breezes bringing hints of something spicy. Some exotic native plant, most likely. The laughing fates, making counterpoint for his internal frustration. Jamming his hands into his pockets, Kosta picked a direction at random and started across the delicately landscaped Institute grounds.

And tried to think.

There were, at the bottom, really only two options. He could stay here and wait for the bureaucrats to unsnarl the mess they'd gotten him into. Or he could leave, going into hiding on Seraph or else buying passage back to Lorelei and waiting there for Commodore Lleshi to make his move. The latter option would stretch his emergency cash supply to the breaking point, but once back in contact with the Pax setup on Lorelei he might be able to get more.

But to run now would be to admit that he'd failed.

He glared at the ground at his feet. No; that was not an option. Period. He would rather be caught now by the Empyreals than go back and face that I-knew-it smirk of Telthorst's. And that left him only one option: to stay here, cultivate patience, and wait for next month's Angelmass trip.

Assuming, of course, that Lleshi didn't make his move before then.

He swore under his breath. Everywhere he turned, it seemed, he was running face first into no-win situations. One way or another, the laughing fates were determined to make him a loser on this one.

A glint in the sky caught his eye. A huntership, gliding in for a landing on the huge field to the north.

Squinting against the sunlight, he could pick out half a dozen other points of light on similar approach paths.

Hunterships...

For a long moment he thought about it. It was a ridiculously long shot... but on the other hand, he had absolutely nothing to lose.

And maybe—just maybe—the laughing fates had missed one.

"Now this," Hanan said, pulling a lumpy metal stick out of his toolbox, "is what's known as a universal wrench. It can fit any bolt or nut you're likely to find outside an engine room, bend in seven different ways to get back into cubbyholes impossible for the human hand, and apply the kind of torque that had hitherto only been available if you knew a gorilla with a mechanic's certificate."

He turned it over, sending glints of sunlight into Chandris's eyes. "You can also stir paint with it, and it holds up remarkably well against being thrown across a room in frustration."

Chandris nodded, squinting against the reflections. Having learned everything there was to know about the inside of the Gazelle, at least according to Ornina, she'd been promoted to learning about the outside with Hanan. It was, in her opinion, a dubious honor at best. "How come they put stuff in places where people's hands won't go?" she asked.

"Because the designers don't have to work on the things themselves," Hanan grunted, bending the wrench at three of its joints and lifting it to the open access hatch above them. "Allow me to demonstrate."

"Excuse me?" a voice called from the direction of the service yard gate. Chandris craned her neck to look over Hanan's shoulder—

And froze. "Oh, nurk," she hissed.

"What?" Hanan asked, turning around to look. "Hello," he called to the visitor before she could answer. "Come on in."

"Thank you," the other called. He opened the gate, somewhat gingerly, and started toward them.

Chandris found her voice. "Get rid of him," she murmured to Hanan. "I mean it. He's trouble."

Hanan had just enough time to throw her a puzzled look; and then he was there.

"Hello," the young man said, his eyes flicking to Chandris and then quickly away. "My name's Jereko Kosta. Are you Hanan Daviee?"

"That's right," Hanan nodded. "This is Chandris, one of my associates."

"Yes," Kosta said, his eyes reluctantly meeting Chandris's again. "We've met."

"Ah," Hanan nodded pleasantly. If he noticed the tension in the air, he didn't show it. "What can I do for you, Mr. Kosta?"

"I'd like to talk to you about possibly going along on your next trip out to Angelmass," Kosta said. "I have a radiation detection experiment that I very much need to get out there—"

"Institute ship broken?" Chandris put in coolly.

"Well, no—"

"You're still with the Institute, aren't you?"

"Well—"

"Chandris." Hanan put a restraining hand on her arm. "At the very least he deserves a hearing. Please continue, Mr. Kosta."

She could see Kosta brace himself. "The fact of the matter," he said, the words coming out in a rush,

"is that some bureaucratic mistake has gotten my credit line frozen, and without an active credit line they won't let me aboard the Institute ship. It'll be another month before the next trip, and if I have to wait that long—"

Hanan silenced him with an upraised hand. "How much space will this experiment of yours take up?"

"Not too much," Kosta said, a note of cautious hope creeping into his voice. "About like so," he added, slicing off about a cubic meter of air with his hands. "I can't pay very much now, but as soon as my credit's been unfrozen—"

"No problem," Hanan cut him off. "We'll be lifting tomorrow afternoon at two; you can sleep aboard tonight if you need a bed. Will you need any help getting your equipment over here?"

Kosta blinked. Probably, Chandris thought sourly, he'd expected to have to do more persuading.

"Ah, actually, I could—" He glanced at Chandris, suddenly seemed to realize who Hanan would likely volunteer to go help him. "No, I can handle it myself," he amended. "And I've still got a room at the Institute."

"Good," Hanan said. "Then you'd better hop on back there and start getting everything together. We may be out there for a week, so pack accordingly."

Kosta seemed a little taken aback. "A week?"

"We're going there to hunt angels," Hanan reminded him. "No way to guarantee how long till we find one."

"No, of course not." Kosta threw Chandris another glance. "I understand. I just didn't realize I'd be imposing on you that long."

"If you can stand our company, I'm sure we can stand yours," Hanan said, solemnly straight-faced.

"Now if you'll excuse us, we have work to do here."

"Oh. Right." Kosta hesitated. "I'd better go get my equipment, I guess. And thank you."

He turned and left, carefully closing the gate behind him. "Seems pleasant enough," Hanan commented as they watched him hurry down the dusty street. "A little awkward, but pleasant enough." He looked at Chandris. "This isn't the one chasing you, is it?"

"Hardly," Chandris growled. "He came in on the Xirrus, that's all. Oh, and I talked to him awhile back when I went to the Institute to find out what they knew about angels."

"I gather you don't like him."

"I don't know him well enough to not like him," Chandris retorted. "The point is that I don't trust him."

Hanan waited, the question implicit in his face. "I saw him at the spaceport," Chandris sighed.

"Right after we got off the Xirrus. I—well, I sort of scored him into walking me out past the guards.

They were looking for a single woman, you know, and I figured a twosome would get past them easier. Anyway, we got outside and clear before it popped and he recognized me."

"And off he went, screaming for the police at the top of his lungs?"

Chandris shook her head. "That's just it: he didn't. He just stood there like a sfudd and watched me get into a line car. And he didn't turn me in at the Institute, either."

"Interesting," Hanan murmured. "You think maybe he was just giving you the benefit of the doubt?"

Chandris snorted. "What doubt? He saw me under arrest. Hell, I practically ran him down on my chop and hop."

"Um." Hanan rubbed thoughtfully at his cheek with the business end of the wrench, leaving a black smudge behind. "Well... I suppose he could just be the type who hates to get involved with anything messy."

"Or maybe he's already involved in something messy and doesn't want to draw attention to himself,"

Chandris countered. "There's something wrong about him, Hanan. I've scored academic types before, and there's something about him that doesn't fit the pattern."

"Because he showed you mercy?" Hanan asked, raising his eyebrows slightly.

"That's different," Chandris insisted. "You and Ornina were trying to reform me."

"Different question, then," Hanan said. "Do you think he's dangerous?"

"He's trouble. Isn't that enough?"

"You should know better than that," Hanan said, quietly reproving. "But is he dangerous?"

Chandris took a deep breath, trying to sort out her thoughts from her feelings. "If you mean is he going to knife us in our sleep... no, I don't think so."

Hanan shrugged. "Well, then, I don't really see how we can refuse him. Do you?"

Chandris looked him straight in the eye—"No," she murmured. "I guess not."

"Good," Hanan said cheerfully. "Then that's settled." He raised the wrench, made a small adjustment. "Now: watch closely and I'll show you how this is done."

"Right," Chandris said, putting on her best submissive student persona and trying hard not to let her clenched teeth sound through her voice. So that was how it was going to be. She'd called it, and she'd been right. The Daviees, heavily under the influence of their angel, were apparently incapable of protecting their ship anymore.

So okay. She would just have to do it for them.

Watching Hanan work, listening to his running monologue and making suitable noises where required, she began to plan out her strategy.