Timothy Zahn - Deadman Switch

Our eyes met... and hers were suddenly wide and alert.

Once again she'd read me with ease... and even if she couldn't know exactly what it was I had planned, she could clearly tell that something was wrong. With Kutzko's back still to me, I threw her a warning look, a fractional shaking of my head. Her lips twitched, and she swallowed. "Where are we going?" she asked, the question clearly directed toward Kutzko.

"Governor's mansion," he told her briefly. "Mr. Kelsey-Ramos has gotten you a hearing."

Again her eyes read me... read me far too deeply... "I don't want to go," she said, stopping abruptly halfway out of her stateroom.

Kutzko threw me a startled glance. "Why not?" he asked.

Her tongue flicked across her upper lip, eyes still on me. "I... just don't," she said lamely.

Kutzko snorted. "You don't have a choice," he told her flatly, his sense filling with annoyance. "You're going to Cameo. Period."

She took a deep breath; paused... and through the dark screen that seemed to surround her emotions I could sense caution and fear rising within her. She opened her mouth; closed it and gave a short nod instead.

"All right," Kutzko said, relieved at not having to continue the argument. "Come on, Gilead; I'll escort you to the gatelock."

And that was it. In a few short minutes—with nothing but my words and my ability to read people, I had persuaded two intelligent and conscientious men to assist me in releasing a condemned prisoner.

We walked down the corridor to the gatelock... and in the back of my mind I wondered uneasily if perhaps Aikman's fears about the powers of Watchers hadn't been so exaggerated after all.

We left Kutzko standing at the gatelock; and as the car took us off across the floodlit parking field Calandra turned to me, worry and suspicion hanging around her like a fog. "All right, Benedar, just what in the Patri is going on?" she demanded.

"I'm getting you out of here, that's what," I told her. "There's a ship laid on for us across the field."

Surprise, I was ready for; even confusion, possibly even dazed gratitude. I wasn't prepared for utter fury. "What?" she all but shouted in my ear. "You blazing idiot—have you gone completely out of your mind?"

"Calandra—"

"Do you have any idea what kind of trouble you've just gotten yourself in?" she cut me off. "They'll turn you inside out when they catch us."

"That depends on what we find in the meantime, doesn't it?" I said, fighting to regain my balance against the verbal onslaught.

"We'll find your brains scattered across the landscape," she snarled. Abruptly, she leaned forward to the car's microphone. "Car: cancel destination and return us to the Bellwether."

"Cancel that!" I barked, grabbing her arm and shoving her back into her seat. "Car: cancel destination. New destination: launch catapult fifty-seven, Rainbow's End Spaceport."

I turned to Calandra, a sudden surge of white-hot anger hazing my vision. "We're going into space," I snarled. "We're going because it's the only way to get a replacement zombi for you."

She stared into my face, her own anger draining into fear and dread. "They'll execute you," she said, her voice trembling. "Instead of one zombi, they'll have two. Can't you see that?"

I took a shuddering breath, forcing down my anger. I was battling the whole universe on her account; the last thing I wanted was to fight her, too. "There's a risk, yes," I acknowledged, trying to hide my own fears. In her face I could see that the attempt was only partially successful. "But if we don't try they definitely have you. Guaranteed."

She licked her lips. "Gilead... I'm not worth it. I'm really not. Please—turn back and forget all this. Please."

I sighed. "I'm sorry, Calandra. You're asking me to sit by and let an innocent person be killed. I just can't do that."

A stab of pain flicked across her face. "What if I told you I wasn't innocent?" she challenged. "That I really did kill all those people?"

She was good, all right. I could almost believe the sincerity behind the words was real... but equally strong, and equally believable, was the fear she felt for me. "And I suppose then that you'd like me to believe that you, a cold-blooded murderess, would actually care what happened to me, a near-total stranger?" I asked pointedly.

She closed her eyes, blinking back tears. "Gilead... I don't want to go to my death knowing I caused yours. Please, please, take me back."

Hesitantly, I reached over and took her hand. It resisted for a moment, then reluctantly accepted the touch. "I can't let you die without a fight," I told her gently. "Not while there's a chance to clear you. Certainly not when there are people far more deserving of death within our reach."

She opened her eyes again. "What do you mean?"

I looked upward, at the stars dimly visible above the spaceport floodlights. "There's a thriving smuggler trade operating out there," I said, hearing more bitterness in my voice than I'd expected. "They kidnap people to run their Deadman Switches in and out of the Cloud... and the Patri look the other way while they do it."

Calandra shivered, my own disgust and horror mirrored in her sense. "And you think the two of us can stop it?"

"I'm not that much of an idiot," I snorted. "No, I've met the only man who has a real chance of doing that. The problem is that he wants to kill it with a single blow, and he's not ready yet to do that."

"So then...?"

"I think he was basically sympathetic to our plight," I said. "But he was also afraid that if he came down on a single smuggler now the rest would suddenly realize he's not the ziphead everyone thinks he is and instantly bury themselves out of his reach."

She considered that. "So you think," she said slowly, "that if we can pinpoint a group of smugglers, he can go ahead and pick them up without risking that?"

I grimaced. With Randon backing my demand for such official action, I had no doubt Commodore Freitag would have been willing to do exactly that. Now, though... "I hope he'll be that reasonable," I said.

"You don't know for sure, though," she said quietly. "Do you?"

"It's a calculated risk," I conceded.

She took a deep breath. "Gilead... look, I deeply appreciate what you're trying to do for me. But the risk's not worth it. Please take me back."

"We've already been through this," I said gruffly. "Whether you remember or not, part of a Watcher's job is to stand up for the helpless."

"To the point of ruining your career?"

"To the point of giving up my life, if necessary."

She swallowed. "There's still no need for me to be along," she said, making what I could sense was her last effort. "You can take me back to the Bellwether and then go out alone and find your smuggler."

"And what happens if I can't do it in time?" I asked her. "You'll be executed on schedule."

"But you'll be in less trouble than you are now," she countered. "I'm willing to take the chance."

"I'm not," I told her flatly. "Besides, I'm going to need your help. Spall is a big planet for one person to search."

Possibly for the first time that evening, I'd taken her by surprise. "Spall?" she echoed, blinking in confusion.

"Spall," I nodded. "Though no one seems willing to talk about it, I get the distinct impression that at least some of the smugglers are thought to have their permanent bases there."

"But—" she floundered.

"It makes sense, when you think about it," I continued. "The only two places in the system where they can have both a reasonable amount of room and a shirtsleeve environment are Solitaire and Spall, and Solitaire's got too much traffic coverage for them to sneak in and out easily."

"And Spall's got the exact opposite situation," she pointed out. "No one lives there at all—which means a smuggling settlement would stand out like a floodlight on even the simplest spectrum scan."