There was a brief pause. "You all right?" Gyasi asked, his voice frowning.

"Not really." Kosta gestured at the screen with his mug, the movement sloshing a few drops over the rim and onto his fingers. "I don't understand this, Yaezon. What kind of people are you, that you blithely put an angel around the neck of a baby?"

"It's a bit of a gamble, sure," Gyasi agreed, coming over to stand beside Kosta's chair. "It was hardly done blithely, though. Or quickly, either-the argument and discussion lasted nearly a year, with just about the whole Inst.i.tute getting in on it before it was over. Director Podolak and the others finally decided it was just something we had to do."

"For science."

Gyasi shrugged. "You could put it that way, I guess. Don't forget, though, that we didn't go in entirely cold. We had nearly two decades of experience with the High Senate and others to go on, not to mention a few years of lab studies before that. Even if we don't know exactly what the angels are, we know pretty well what they do."

"And what if you don't?" Kosta asked, turning away from the sleeping baby on the screen to look up at him. "Suppose they're not just quanta of good. Suppose there's more to them then that."

"Such as?"

"Such as motivations of their own," Kosta said. "Such as possibly even an intelligence of their own."

Gyasi blinked; and then his face cleared. "Ah," he said with a knowing nod. "That's right-you were aboard a huntership, weren't you? Let me guess: they pulled that old trapped-alien ghost story on you."

It was Kosta's turn to frown. "What do you mean, pulled it on me? You mean it was a joke?"

"Oh, it's no joke," Gyasi said. "It's just that that same theory, in one form or another, has been kicking around the huntership crews for years. No one really takes it seriously anymore."Except maybe the Pax, Kosta reminded himself silently. "Why not?" he asked. "Do you know what would happen to a ship that tried catapulting through a black hole like Angelma.s.s?"

"No, but that's not the point," Gyasi said. "The problem is that that theory doesn't do anything except

push the real issue a step farther back. If the angels are one or more fragmented souls, why are they all uniformly good? Why don't we get demons mixed in with the angels?"

"Are you sure you haven't?" Kosta countered. "I mean, how would you test for something like that?"

"I don't know, actually," Gyasi admitted. "But the High Senate and the Inst.i.tute seem to know how."

"Ah. Of course."

Gyasi raised his hands, palms upward. "At some point in life, Jereko, you have to accept the fact that

you can't get by without occasionally trusting other people."

"Maybe," Kosta conceded grudgingly. "Doesn't mean I have to like it."

Behind them, the door opened again. "Mr. Kosta?"

"I'm here, Dr. Qhahenlo," Kosta said, squinting in the sudden brightness as he stood up.

"Watching Angelica, I see," Qhahenlo commented as she walked to her desk. "How's she doing

tonight?"

"She's dreaming, I think," Kosta said, turning off the monitor and going over to the desk. "Did you find anything?"Qhahenlo nodded. "Two things. First of all, the data you got from the Gazelle are perfectly correct: there have indeed been fourteen instances of unusual radiation pulses recorded over the past eighteen months. None of them anywhere near this strong, but definitely there."

"How strong are we talking about?" Gyasi asked.

"Extremely," Qhahenlo told him grimly. "The one Mr. Kosta recorded was strong enough to kill a huntership crew right through a sandwich-metal hull."

Gyasi gave a low whistle, turning to look at Kosta. "Not your crew, I hope."

"No," Kosta said, shivering with the memory. "But we were close enough that it could have been."

"Which brings me to the second point," Qhahenlo said, tapping keys. "We're still a.n.a.lyzing your data; but at the moment it looks as if that conical low-radiation zone is an artificial construct. Here's the picture we've come up with." She swiveled the display around for him to see.

Kosta frowned at it. The central fuzzy line of the main radiation pulse was still there, but the outer cone had been replaced by a strange, almost random-looking mottling. "That doesn't make sense," he objected. "The radiation data came out symmetric despite the fact that the Gazelles path curved all through that region."

"Which is obviously why your computer fitted a cone shape to it," Qhahenlo nodded. "This more sophisticated a.n.a.lysis was able to take into account the fact that your sampling was very limited in both s.p.a.ce and time. It was also able to fit it closer to known black hole theory."

Kosta looked at her sharply. "What do you mean, fit it closer? Shouldn't you be taking the data on its own merits and seeing where it leads?"

"We did," she said. "But you have to understand that there wasn't all that much there, by the nature of your experiment's design and the incident itself. If we run it parallel to the theory, on the other hand, we can get a more likely explanation."

Kosta pursed his lips. It was, he had to admit, a fairly standard technique. Not much more, really, than a sophisticated version of curve-fitting. And under normal circ.u.mstances he would have seen nothing wrong with it.

But here, for some reason, he did. And didn't know why. "So what did the theory-fitting tell you?" he asked, fighting hard to stay open-minded.

Qhahenlo shrugged. "About as I expected," she said, tapping keys to bring up some numbers. "Best guess is that what we're seeing is a radiation self-focusing effect, probably triggered by a sudden influx of gravitational energy."

Kosta leaned over the desk, studying the figures. It did, indeed, seem straightforward enough: a significant ma.s.s, falling in toward Angelma.s.s, would release gravitational potential energy as it fell, pushing some of the radiation streaming from the black hole over the threshold for self-focusing.

And yet... "Where are we a.s.suming this triggering ma.s.s came from?" he asked. "Angelma.s.s isn't big enough to get all that much gravitational energy from."

"True," Qhahenlo agreed. "And the self-focusing effect won't last all that long, either, so it gets a little tricky. We're a.s.suming that the trigger is coming from the affected hunterships themselves-something dropped, or maybe something coming from the drive. We're looking into it."

"Mm." Kosta rubbed at his lower lip. "I don't know. That surge lasted an awfully long time."

"Oh, there's no doubt it pushes the edges of the theory," Qhahenlo nodded. "But I don't think it's going to take too much to fit it in. The tricky part will be to figure out what the trigger mechanism is and how to keep it from happening again."

"Is there enough data for that?" Gyasi asked.

"I don't know," Qhahenlo said. "Ideally, we'd like to have the exact configurations and operating procedures from each of the ships this has happened to. Try to find some common factor in the incidents. Whether we can get that or not I don't know, particularly with those that occurred more than a month or two ago. I presume we'll be studying the wreckage of the Hova's Skyarcher, too, once EmDef retrieves it. That should tell us something."

"And what happens until then?" Kosta demanded.

Both of them looked at him. "I'm not sure what you mean," Qhahenlo said.

And here's where it hits the blades, Kosta thought, bracing himself. "I mean I'd like to go ahead and publish this," he told her. "At least as a preliminary report. I think it's important that the huntership crews know what's happening out there."

A slight smile twitched at Qhahenlo's lip. "And you're worried the Gabriel Corporation may take exception to you stirring up trouble?"

"Why would they?" Gyasi put in before Kosta could answer. "You've found a problem no one else has noticed. They're more likely to thank you for pointing it out."

"Oh, of course," Kosta snorted. "Corporations always appreciate someone showing them up as incompetent or negligent."

Gyasi shook his head. "You're missing the point, Jereko. This is Gabriel we're talking about here. They can't act that way."

"Why not?" Kosta demanded. "Because they provide a vital service?"

"No," Qhahenlo said. "Because they deal with angels."

Kosta looked at her, feeling his arguments catch somewhere halfway down his throat. "But the corporate heads don't actually handle the angels themselves."

She nodded. "Yes, they do. Every single one of them, every single day. That was one of the first conditions the High Senate set up when Gabriel was created, precisely to make sure that the standard corporate fixation with bottom-line profits didn't take hold there. And it worked. Gabriel genuinely cares about the health and safety of its employees, including the huntership crews."

"Translation: go ahead and write it up," Gyasi murmured.

Kosta took a careful breath. "All right. I will. In fact, if you'll both excuse me, I'll get started right now. Thank you, Dr. Qhahenlo, for running the data for me."

"You're welcome," Qhahenlo said, nodding gravely. "We'll keep you up to date on what's happening."

"Thank you," Kosta said again, rounding the desk toward the door. "Hopefully, I'll have my credit line back in a couple of days and be able to keep track of it myself."

"I'm sure you will," Qhahenlo a.s.sured him.

I was sure, too, yesterday, Kosta reminded himself as he headed down the quiet corridor toward his office. But that was yesterday, and yesterday he didn't have information the Gabriel Corporation might not want people to hear. It would, he decided, be very interesting to see their reaction when they saw his paper.

And to see what, if anything, they did about it. To the hunterships, or to him.

CHAPTER 23.

The wrench slipped and clanged against the edge of the access f.l.a.n.g.e, narrowly missing Chandris's knuckles in the process. "Nurk," she gritted, lowering the tool and flexing her fingers. "It keeps coming off."

"That's because you're not setting the line-lock solidly enough against the connector," Hanan told her, his voice calm and soothing. "If it's tight enough, it won't slip."

"Well, I can't do it," Chandris growled, offering him the wrench. "If you can, you're a genius."

"Hardly," Hanan huffed. But it was a pleased sort of huff. "Let me show you."

Chandris stepped aside, maintaining her frustrated scowl as Hanan busied himself with the wrench. His hands, she could see, were still not a hundred percent steady; but she could also see that her modified little-miss-helpless routine was doing wonders for his morale. With any luck, he wouldn't catch on to what she was doing until his nervous system had gotten back in synch with the exobraces' electronics.

And when that happened, it would be time for her to leave.

"There," Hanan grunted, stepping back and gesturing with a slightly shaky hand at the wrench handle protruding from the access hatch. "Try it now."

"Thanks," Chandris said, getting a grip on the wrench and giving it a tug. This time it stayed on. "That's it, all right."

"Just one of those things you pick up with experience," Hanan said modestly. "You'll get it in time.

That is, if you stay."

"Where else would I go?" she countered, keeping her eyes on her work.

She sensed Hanan shrug. "Back to running, I suppose. You were running when you first came here, if you remember."

With a final tug, Chandris got the connector loose. "I'm not much interested in running anymore,

thank you," she told him, in a tone carefully designed to discourage further questioning.It was a waste of good voice control. "You know, you never did give us any details about this crazy man you said you were running from," Hanan commented. "He must have been really crazy for you to have run all the way to Seraph to get away from him."

"He was," Chandris said briefly. "You have a spare grommet there?"

"Sure." He found one, handed it to her. "Tell me about him."

"Why?"

He sighed, just audibly. "So that maybe we can help you find a way to get clear of him. Before you

leave us."Chandris felt her throat tighten. "Who says I'm leaving?""Ornina. She was right, you know: we do need you here."Chandris snorted. "That's the trouble with you two. You talk too much to each other.""She talks and I listen, anyway," Hanan said, a hint of his usual flippancy peeking through. "I'm serious, though, about wanting you to stay. For starters, who else will play this helpless-maiden

routine with me if you go?"

Chandris grimaced. So much for him not catching on. "Maybe that's why I want to leave," she growled. "Maybe I'm tired of playing games. Ever think of that?"

For a long minute he was silent. Chandris finished attaching the new connector, then set the wrench's line-lock on the next one and broke it loose. "We're all running from something, Chandris," he said at last, quietly. "Did Ornina ever tell you I wanted to be a surgeon?"