Timothy Zahn - Deadman Switch

It didn't seem to help. I tried to tell myself that it was doing some good, that without their comfort I would have sunk into a mind-crippling despair. But lurking at the edge of my mind was another, more sobering possibility: that it didn't help because Shepherd Adams had been right, that I had indeed become too entangled with the rewards of the secular world to find strength in the spiritual realm. It was a frightening and debilitating thought, a dark nightmare shadow which seemed to begin and end each day.

And finally—when it seemed as if I couldn't take the fear and forced solitude a single day longer—finally, on the afternoon of the fourth day, my cell was opened and I was escorted under guard to the Rainbow's End starport. The starport, and the waiting Bellwether.

—

"It took every string I could find to pull," Lord Kelsey-Ramos commented, offering me a steaming mug as I sat down across from his desk. "Including that favor the governor owed us," he added, "though I can't say she was all that happy at having to pay it off."

"I appreciate it, sir," I said, carefully taking the mug with fingers that still trembled with vague reaction. The heat was soothing to my hands, the smell flooding my mind with memories of home and safety. It was exactly the medicine I needed, and even as I sipped at the drink I could feel the fears and doubts of the cell beginning to recede.

"I was glad to do it," Lord Kelsey-Ramos said, frowning slightly as he gazed into my face. "I'm just sorry it took so long—on Portslava I'd have had you out in half an hour."

"Four days was soon enough, sir," I assured him, trying to sound as if I meant it.

He wasn't fooled. "It looks to me like we just barely made it," he said pointedly.

I sighed, giving up the pretense. "It was harder than I'd expected," I admitted. "A lot harder. Just the thought of those ships heading toward their deaths—and me locked away where I couldn't do anything about it..." I shuddered, and took another sip of my drink.

"Um," he grunted. "Interesting. You know, I've always thought that too much of that empathy you religious types pride yourselves on might be a handicap at times." He pursed his lips. "On the other hand... I wonder if maybe not all of it was really you."

I frowned at the suspicion in his sense. "Are you suggesting," I asked slowly, "that the Pravilo might have drugged me?"

The flicker of surprise showed that hadn't been what he'd been suggesting at all. "I suppose that's not impossible," he nevertheless conceded. "I doubt that Admiral Yoshida would go that far to keep you out of his face for these last couple of weeks, but some eager subordinate might have thought it would make a nice early birthday present for him. I was thinking more of the thunderheads, actually."

A cold knot formed in my stomach as, abruptly, something like a hazy curtain seemed to vanish from in front of my memory. The overall sense of tension and struggle Calandra and I had noticed on Solitaire—of course; that was precisely what I'd just spent four days struggling against. Or rather, a highly magnified form of that sense. Magnified from scientific tool or side effect into a weapon... "Yes," I said, voice wavering slightly—with disgust, dread, or anger, I couldn't tell which. "Yes, it was them. It had to be. They were attacking me. Deliberately attacking me."

"Don't let it throw you," Lord Kelsey-Ramos growled, his voice rich with suppressed anger of his own. "After spending seventy years patiently leading us to this point by our collective nose, they're hardly going to look kindly on someone who's trying his best to upset their plans."

"Then they're going to have some readjusting to do," I gritted. The pressure was still there, I could see now, resting up against my consciousness like a dull toothache. But now that I knew its origin and purpose its power over me was gone.

Lord Kelsey-Ramos cocked an eyebrow. "Well, we'll see about that, won't we?" he said. "So, let's hear this plan of yours."

I took a deep breath, my anger at the thunderheads fading into the distance... leaving a tinge of uncertainty in its place. Perversely, what had seemed like a gold-plated idea while I was alone in my cell was tarnishing almost visibly under Lord Kelsey-Ramos's unblinking gaze. "To begin with," I said, deciding to go with the least arguable part first, "I'll need to talk to the thunderheads again. The only way this is going to work is with their cooperation."

Lord Kelsey-Ramos blinked, his anticipation turning slightly sour. "These are the same thunderheads who've just spent four days trying to drive you into a nervous breakdown?" he asked pointedly.

"Yes, sir," I nodded, "because I'm going to show them why their plan isn't going to work. And why cooperating with me is literally their only chance."

For a long moment he gazed into my eyes, and I could see him measuring his knowledge and trust of me against the obstacles that stood arrayed against us. I held my breath; and the trust won. "All right," he said at last. "I presume you'll need a Halloa for that. I'll have Captain Bartholomy get the earliest possible lift clearance from the tower and we'll head out to Spall."

"Am I allowed to leave Solitaire?" I asked, a bit startled.

"As long as you're with me, you are," he said. "You've been released into my custody, the only stipulation being that you stay within Solitaire system."

A significant fraction of the weight resting on my back seemed to lift. I'd been very much afraid that I would once again have to steal a ship—somehow—and escape Solitaire on my own. Now—

Now, unless I could shake him later, I would have Lord Kelsey-Ramos along with me the whole way. Sharing fully in the dangers, and in the legal consequences if it didn't work... or perhaps even if it did. "Well, then, let's get going, sir," I said.

He nodded and waved his control stick at the intercom; and as he did so, I felt all the eased weight settle back in again. Along with perhaps a bit more.

We reached Spall six hours later—the middle of the night there—and put down at a freshly-built landing area about fifty kilometers from the Butte City. An aircar and Pravilo escort were waiting as Lord Kelsey-Ramos, Kutzko, and I disembarked; twenty minutes later, we were at the encampment.

To my surprise, Dr. Eisenstadt was waiting for us, obviously alerted in advance that we were on our way. "Lord Kelsey-Ramos," he nodded, getting up from his desk as we entered. "Good to see you again. Gilead; glad you're out of prison."

"Thank you, sir," I nodded back, hiding my irritation with Lord Kelsey-Ramos for dragging Eisenstadt into this. We hardly needed his help or his permission to go talk with Shepherd Adams; all his presence here was going to accomplish would be to get his name on the Pravilo's list when this was over and they went looking for my accomplices. "With your permission, Dr. Eisenstadt, I'd like to go and talk to Shepherd Adams—"

"Yes, Lord Kelsey-Ramos told me what you'd need," he nodded briskly, slipping past me toward the door. "If you'll all come with me, Adams is just down the hall."

He led us out again into the hall, and I again had to fight to hide my irritation. We weren't in such a hurry that we couldn't have simply gone out to Adams's house and talked to him there—all we needed now was to bump into someone working late who might ask awkward questions.

Eisenstadt had at least had the sense to put Adams nearby, in one of the abandoned dorm-type rooms that the housing boom outside had made superfluous. He was dozing on a cot, and as we filed quietly in and Eisenstadt turned the lights up to a dim glow he awoke. "Hello?" he called tentatively, rolling over and propping himself up on one elbow.

"It's Eisenstadt," Eisenstadt identified himself as Adams blinked his eyes back to focus. "I've brought you some visitors."