But the hallways of the Supreme Senate were crawling with Adjutors. And if they gave Telthorst what they wanted instead of slapping him down...

Lleshi ground his teeth together, the bitter taste of defeat coating his tongue. He couldn't risk it. If Telthorst got official sanction for this, it would create a precedent that would haunt every ship and commander in the Pax until the heat-death of the universe. "I'll give you your near-orbit," he told Telthorst, putting what little remained of his dignity into his voice. "But not because I'm afraid of these so-called friends of yours. I'll give it to you as a personal favor. The first and last such favor."

"Thank you, Commodore," Telthorst said smoothly. He wasn't fooled by the fancy words, of course.

But then, Lleshi hadn't really expected him to be. "I'll keep that in mind. So. Was there any news on how the Lorelei project is coming? Or do I have to find that out on my own, too?"

"It's running on schedule," Lleshi told him. "The last of the ships has gone in and vanished, presumably catapulted someplace to hell and gone. I'm guessing we'll have the coordinates and orbit for the last net within another week."

"Then all we'll have to do is cross our fingers," Telthorst said, a sour edge to his voice. "And hope the cocoon is doing what it's supposed to and not just sitting there with its thumb in its nose."

Lleshi smiled grimly in the darkness. Nice of Telthorst to bring up yet another instance where Lleshi and the military Spec Ops people had gotten their way. "No way to know," he reminded the other.

"Any kind of progress reports from the cocoon would have drastically increased the chances of discovery. Even spike-pulsed transmissions can be detected if the other side is clever or lucky enough. I'm sure you wouldn't want such an expensive collection of hardware to fall into Empyreal hands."

"Yes, I remember the arguments," Telthorst said, his tone frosty. "I just don't relish the thought of spending another four months in the middle of nowhere if this doesn't work."

Lleshi shrugged. "That's easily solved. We'll simply drop you off at Scintara before the jump-off."

Telthorst snorted. "You're too kind, Commodore. No, I'll be along for the invasion. If for no other reason than to make sure you don't damage anything you don't have to."

Lleshi was saved the need to reply by a chirp from his intercom. "Bodini here, Commodore. You wanted to be informed when the final scrubbing was finished on that last drop pod."

"Thank you, Ensign," Lleshi said, getting to his feet. "I'm on my way." He moved toward the door—

"Commodore?"

Lleshi half turned back. "Yes?"

"Don't forget to enter the order for the Komitadji's course change."

Lleshi took a deep breath. "I won't forget, Mr. Telthorst."

Not that, he promised silently as he strode from the room, nor the rest of this conversation. Not a single word of it.

A thin trail of smoke curled its way up from the circuit board, tickling Chandris's nose and sparking bittersweet memories of an electronics assembly shop she'd once tried to score. "Like this?" she asked.

"Right," Ornina said from behind her. "Make sure you get a good connection, then use the vac to get rid of the excess before it hardens."

Chandris nodded, biting gently on her lip as she concentrated on the task. She knew how the technique was supposed to go—Ornina had just showed it to her—but it wasn't as easy as it had looked. The end of the vac caught on the edge of the board, hissing its annoyance at her fumbling—

"Take it easy," Ornina soothed. "It's one of those things your fingers have to learn on their own."

Biting down a little harder on her lip, Chandris tried again. This time she got it right. "That's it,"

Ornina said. "Now do the same thing with those other two and you're done."

"Okay." Chandris stretched her fingers out once and set to work. "It's actually kind of fun, once you get the hang of it."

"I've always thought so," Ornina agreed. "And it took me a good deal longer to get the hang of it, I can tell you. You're an amazingly quick learner."

"I've got a good memory," Chandris told her, easing the sealant wire against the proper component leg.

"It's more than just good," Ornina said. "You remember everything you read or see, don't you?"

Chandris shrugged. "Pretty much." She paused as a faint sound down the corridor caught her ear.

"Someone's coming," she said, old reflexes tensing before she remembered she was supposed to be here.

"Probably Hanan." Ornina turned toward the door. "Hanan?—we're back here," she called.

"Hi ho," Hanan's voice came back, and a minute later he poked his head into the room. "Hello, Chandris," he said, smiling at her. "Ornina didn't waste any time putting you to work, I see."

"Everything go okay?" Ornina asked.

"Oh, sure," Hanan said, an almost-smile playing around his lips as he crossed the room toward the repeater console. "No problems."

Ornina glanced at Chandris, back at Hanan. Perhaps she'd seen the smile, too. "What sort of 'no problems'?" she asked suspiciously.

"Just a second," he said, keying the repeater and stepping aside. "I want you to take a look at this, Chandris. I've tapped into the vision control monitor from the main launch tower. See the ship there, the one just rolling onto the strip?"

"Yes," Chandris nodded. It was rather hard to miss: similar in design to the Gazelle, but considerably larger.

"Here's its responder profile," he continued, indicating a small display below the larger one. "If you're ever out at Angelmass and this thing comes along and tells you to veer off, you veer off. Right away, without argument. Understand?"

"Okay," Chandris said cautiously. "Why?"

"Because it's the Angelmass Studies Institute's very own survey ship," Hanan told her. "It goes out about once a month, packed to the clavicles with scientists and study gear, and it has absolute priority out there. Just something I thought you should know."

"Something else you should know," Ornina put in darkly, "is that Hanan never lies—he just changes the subject when he doesn't want to answer a question. What happened at Gabriel, Hanan?"

Hanan looked at her with that wide-eyed innocent expression of his. "Whatever can you mean, sister dear?"

Ornina's mouth twisted sideways. "I mean that they were supposed to have some new trainees starting up soon in receiving. Can I assume one of them was on duty this morning?"

Hanan looked at Chandris, the innocent expression turning slightly hurt. "I ask you, Chandris: did I say or do anything to deserve this?"

Ornina folded her arms across her chest. "Quit stalling and spit it out," she said, a glint in her eye.

"What did you do?"

Hanan spread his hands. "I just asked her to fill out my metals credit form, that's all."

Ornina rolled her eyes skyward. "Hanan, what am I going to do with you?"

"What's a metals credit form?" Chandris asked, trying to read the atmosphere.

"It's a little official-looking paper Hanan likes to spring on new angel receivers," Ornina said. "It allegedly requires Gabriel to analyze the spacedust material coating our angel, calculate how much of each element is represented, and then credit the total value to our account."

Something icy ran up Chandris's spine. No. It couldn't be. Hanan Daviee, certified open-faced soft touch, scoring a track? "What happened?" she said between suddenly stiff lips.

"Nothing much," he said, pulling over a chair and sitting down. "I had her running with it for about ten minutes, but then Carlie Sills wandered in and blew the whistle."

"What did you do?" Chandris asked.

He shrugged. "I got my credit and left."