Timothy Zahn - Deadman Switch

"Yes, well, we may be able to do a bit better than that." Randon shifted his attention to me. "What did you find out?"

I gritted my teeth, still feeling an echo of shame at my failure. "They won't help us."

He frowned. "Why not?"

"Some local law, apparently—"

"Local law, indeed," Aikman snorted. " 'No Solitaran citizen, regardless of crime or levied punishment, will be removed from the jurisdiction of Solitaire system for purposes of navigation, piloting, or piloting assistance on any interstellar craft.

In spite of myself, I was impressed. "That's the one, all right," I confirmed.

"I'm sure it was. It happens to be the backbone of the original agreement between the Solitaran colonists and the Patri." His sense was distinctly gloating. "And there are no exceptions. None."

"Every law has exceptions," Randon said tartly.

"Not this one. Not even the governor can override it, Patri appointment or no."

"But why?" I asked.

"Why do you think?" he snapped. "Because they don't want their world to become a zombi reservoir, that's why."

It was obvious, of course, in retrospect, and I felt like an idiot for not catching on earlier. If something went wrong with a ship's outzombi, the Solitarans were far and away the most convenient population from which to draw a replacement. Possibly too convenient a population... and I could well understand the original colonists worrying about that.

"It would never happen," Randon insisted. But beneath his sureness there was a shading of doubt. "The Patri wouldn't let Solitaire become a zombi farm."

"Persuade the Solitarans of that," Aikman countered. "In the past couple of decades there've been at least a dozen threats to the law, any one of which would have set a dangerous precedent."

"I take it they didn't weaken?" Randon asked.

Aikman smiled tightly. "One of the ships was able to beg a replacement zombi from Whitecliff. The rest eventually had to execute one of their own crewers to get out."

My stomach tightened. "And the Solitarans let that happen? How can they justify letting an innocent man die when someone who is deserving of death—"

"Innocent?" Aikman sneered. "Since when are any of us oh, so fallen humans really innocent? Sounds a little heretical, if you ask me."

"All right, that's enough," Randon cut him off. He wasn't interested in letting Aikman harass me in his presence; but at the same time I could also sense a subtle decrease of tension within him. Relieved that I wouldn't be rocking any official boats over Calandra now?

If so, he was in for a disappointment. "I haven't given up yet, Mr. Kelsey-Ramos," I spoke up.

He looked warily at me. "Oh? How so?"

"There must be at least ten other ships in Solitaire system at the moment, sir," I pointed out. "If someone aboard one of them should happen to commit a capital crime, perhaps we can persuade the Solitaire judiciary to release him to us."

"In two weeks?" Aikman snarled. "Where the hell is your brain, Benedar?—you really think a court can make a life/death decision like that in just two weeks?"

"It's been done before," Randon reminded him coolly.

Aikman knew better than to really glare at Randon, but the look he threw him was pretty close. "I don't know why I'm even sitting here arguing all this," he gritted out. "The whole thing is nothing but an exercise in futility. Like it or not, Calandra Paquin is guilty of murder; and a hundred judiciaries reviewing the case a hundred times won't change that."

"Then I'm wasting my time," I told him, fighting to hold onto my temper. To have to face such deep hostility and not be able to return it in kind... "On the other hand, it's my time to waste, isn't it?"

"And speaking of wasting time," Randon put in, "I have no intention of letting this argument waste any more of mine. Benedar, you're authorized to have Captain Bartholomy put a tracer on the local news services, see if anything useful comes up. And don't forget the ring mines—most of the people on the Rockhounds are non-Solitarans, too." He glared briefly at both of us, and I could sense that for now, at least, the subject was closed. "Now. We've been going over the itinerary HTI's got planned for us, Benedar. We'll be meeting with their local managers first thing tomorrow morning, then looking over what they have in the way of groundside facilities."

Which wouldn't be much, of course. All of the real hardware for the extraction and refining of Solitaire's immense mineral wealth was out in Collet's rings, with Solitaire itself hosting little more than basic administration and rest/recreation areas. "Yes, sir. When will we be meeting the governor and local officials?"

He cocked an eyebrow at me, and I knew he could tell that my thoughts were still with Calandra's problem. "Governor Rybakov will be throwing a semiformal dinner for us tomorrow evening at her mansion. Most of the appropriate people will be there. That soon enough for you?"

I flushed. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Then the day after tomorrow we'll be heading out to Collet for a tour of one of the Rockhounds that HTI has contracts with."

The day after tomorrow... and it would, I knew, be at least a four-day trip out to Collet. Four days, out of a visit that was supposed to last only two weeks. "And will we be returning to Solitaire after that tour?" I asked carefully.

Randon's eyes bored into mine. "Not unless we have a good reason to do so."

I bit the back of my lip. So that was it. The day after tomorrow... and I had less than two days in which to find someone to die in Calandra's place. "I understand, sir."

Randon held my gaze another heartbeat, then turned to Aikman. "So. We've been over the locations, personnel, and local customs. Is there anything else?"

"I have nothing more, Mr. Kelsey-Ramos." Aikman got to his feet. "If you think of anything, I'll be in my stateroom."

"Thank you," Randon nodded. Aikman nodded back, brushed past me and left.

"He's staying aboard ship?" I asked as Randon waved me to a seat. "I'd have thought HTI would have a guest house for visiting employees."

"They've got half a dozen," Randon said dryly. "But Aikman and DeMont were gracious enough to accept my hospitality instead."

I studied him. "You don't want them out of your sight?"

"Let's just say I don't want strangers wandering in and out of the Bellwether at their convenience. Particularly bigoted ones." He swiveled his computer around to face me. "You can take all this back to your own stateroom and study it at your leisure, but I want to go over the high points with you first."

I nodded. "I take it you'll be wanting me to come along and watch the proceedings?"

He shrugged. " 'Want' is not exactly the word I would use," he said candidly. "To be perfectly honest, I think that having you around promotes a certain amount of mental laziness. In my opinion, Dad overuses you, and it's cost him some of the edge off his old sharpness."

I already knew all that, but I was rather surprised he was willing to admit to it. "I'm sorry you feel that way. If you'd like, I'll stay in the ship."

He waved the offer away. "Thanks, but Dad would have both of us mined for proteins when he found out." Lowering his eyes, he reached again for the computer, already closing the subject in his own mind. "You may be a crutch, Benedar, but two weeks on a crutch won't hurt me."

"I agree, sir." I braced myself. "Though I believe that in most cases two crutches work better than one."

He was sharp, all right. His mind, already on his plans for tomorrow, snapped instantly back on track. "Are you suggesting," he asked quietly, looking up again, "what I think you're suggesting?"

There was, oddly enough, no outrage in his eyes; just a thin layer of ice that was even more intimidating than any anger would have been. But in my own way I was as stubborn as he was, and I refused to back down. "Yes, sir. You have a unique opportunity here, one your father couldn't possibly have anticipated."