Timothy Zahn - Deadman Switch

"You sure?" I asked.

"Yes. However, I was able to watch Karash, too; as I said, she reacted the same way Chun Li and Blake did."

Randon grunted. "Um. Interesting."

For a minute the room was silent. I watched Randon closely, trying to detect any subtle changes in his attitude toward Calandra. But if there was anything there, it was buried by the myriad of other things on his mind.

The moment of introspection was ended by the whistle of the phone. Picking up his control stick, Randon waved it toward the instrument. "Yes?"

The picture came on: Brad Seqoya, one of Kutzko's more massively built shields. "Seqoya, sir, at the gatelock. Thought you'd like to know that Mr. Aikman's just returned."

Randon made a face. "Thank you, Seqoya. On his way to see me?"

"Probably, sir. And he didn't look too happy."

Randon's sense took on a slyly amused edge. "All right, I'll be ready for him. Anything else going on down there?"

"Nothing much, sir. We had a Billingsgate rep and his customs escort here half an hour ago to pick up the molecule factory shipment, but nothing since then."

The amused edge disappeared, Randon's sense hardening into distaste. "One of our people went down with them, I hope."

"Yes, sir, as per orders."

Randon nodded, trying to clear his mind and not entirely succeeding. One of the laws governing Deadman Switch usage was that even passenger ships had to carry their share of cargo when entering or leaving Solitaire system, and there had been no exception made for the Bellwether. To me it seemed the only decent thing to do: if the toll for our passage was going to be a man's life, the least we could do is make that life count for as much as possible. But Randon didn't see it that way. To him the dead man was a zombi, hardly counting as a human being any more, and it irritated him immensely to have all these strangers traipsing in and out of his ship picking up packages. Aikman, I'd been told, had tried and failed to find any free space in the Rainbow's End receiving center where we could unload the cargo all at once... but given the way Aikman felt about us, I didn't entirely believe that story. "How much stuff is left down there?" Randon asked the shield.

"Oh, probably something over half, sir," Seqoya told him.

Randon grimaced, nodded. "You'd better give customs another call and remind them all this stuff has to be out before we leave for Collet tomorrow. Either they get the appropriate people here to pick it up, or else they find some storage space for it. Otherwise we leave it on the pad when we lift."

Seqoya smiled faintly. "Yes, sir. I'll get right on it."

Randon waved the control stick to break the connection and tossed the instrument on his desk. "You two'd better get out," he grunted. "Unless you want to face Aikman in a bad mood."

There was a touch of sly satisfaction beneath Randon's words. "I'd expected him to be at the meeting today, sir," I commented carefully. "Was there some trouble?"

"Oh, no—just a long errand I trapped him into." He shrugged. "After all, I could hardly have him walking in on the HTI meeting and letting everyone know they didn't have all the Watchers covered."

That thought hadn't even occurred to me. "I see."

"I wish I could see their faces when they find out who she is," he said, smiling to himself. "Anyway—" he picked up his control stick again and keyed it, and the door behind us opened. "Take her back to her stateroom," he instructed Daiv Ifversn as the latter stepped into the doorway.

I looked at Calandra as she turned silently to go... and for the first time I could see the stirrings of an almost grudging hope within her. "I'd like to stay for a moment, if I may," I said to Randon.

He glanced at me, nodded to Ifversn. "Go ahead," he told the other.

They left; but before I could figure out how to phrase the question, Randon saved me the trouble. "All right, I'll concede the point," he said. "You're a useful person to have at business confrontations; and you and she together are considerably more than twice as useful. Is that what you wanted me to say?"

"More or less, sir," I admitted.

He gave me a tight smile. "I haven't grown up a Kelsey-Ramos without picking up some of my father's tricks. Probably would've made a good Watcher myself if I'd cared to."

And though I have the power of prophecy, to penetrate all mysteries and knowledge... "I'm glad we're able to serve you," I said instead. "Will you be wanting both of us along at the governor's dinner reception tonight?"

He threw me a knowing look. "Still trying to make her more valuable to me alive than dead?"

His sense showed none of the rancor the words might have carried. "All people are worth more alive than dead," I returned, keeping my tone light.

He snorted, taking it in the serious but nonthreatening way I'd intended him to. "So you say. You might have trouble proving it. Anyway. You're in charge of getting Paquin ready for the reception tonight—you know what kind of clothes and whatnot women are expected to wear at such things?"

"I can handle it, sir."

"Good. Don't stint, either—there's no point in playing a game like this halfway. Well, go on—get out before Aikman gets here."

"Yes, sir," I nodded. "Thank you."

I passed Aikman on my way down the corridor. From even that brief touch of his sense I was glad I hadn't stayed around.

—

Kutzko was just where I'd expected to find him: loitering around the exit-corridor storage closets, where he was within easy reach of both the gatelock and the slightly more extensive storage areas where our duty cargo was stored. "All hail the conquering hero," he greeted me. "How'd Mr. Kelsey-Ramos like it?"

"What, our report on the meeting?" I shrugged. "He wasn't as attentive as Lord Kelsey-Ramos would have been, but then he's new to this. He seemed impressed enough."

"I'd say so, yes," was his dry rejoinder. "Considering the order just came through that she'd be coming to the reception tonight." He grinned with a mock-evil-tinged dreaminess. "Can you imagine what the assembled dignitaries would say if they knew they were hosting a zombi?"

I could, and it made me wince. "Mikha, I need a favor."

"Sure. What?"

I hesitated. "I need a complete listing of capital crimes under Solitaire law."

His eyebrows raised a couple of millimeters. "You looking to start a new hobby?"

"It's for a friend," I told him, matching his dry tone. "I also need to know if there are any places in the system—the ring mines for instance—where Patri law might possibly take precedence."

"Solitaire law covers the entire system." He shook his head, eyes boring into mine. "This unnamed friend wouldn't by any chance be our outzombi, would it?"

I hadn't really expected to fool him. "It would, yes," I admitted. "I'm trying to get her a new hearing back on Outbound."

Understanding came into his face. "And having the hearing take place after she's dead kind of defeats the purpose?"

I nodded. "Unfortunately, in order to keep her alive I have to find a replacement for her."

Kutzko's eyes defocused a bit. "So you want a list of capital crimes to see who we could stick with that honor. And you want the ring mines because that's where we'll be leaving the system from?"

"More or less." For the moment, there seemed no reason to mention how limited the pool of potential zombi candidates actually was. "Can you do that?"

"No problem," he assured me. "Now: what's the other favor you want?"

"What makes you think there is one?" I countered.

He smiled slyly. "Oh, come on, Gilead. The blazing Solitaran penal code you could find on your own."

I sighed. "Sometimes I wish you'd been born stupid," I told him. "Okay. At the moment we're scheduled to leave tomorrow, which means the reception tonight will probably be my only chance to talk directly to Governor Rybakov. And I have to talk to her—privately or reasonably so."