Deadman Switch (14 page)

Gielincki snorted. “Well, it
doesn't,”
Kutzko insisted, a little defensiveness creeping into his sense. “You have to be up here on watch anyway.”

“Sure. Number one just turned east. Looks like they're starting to drift toward a common rendezvous point.”

“Um.” Kutzko made another mark. “I wish I'd had enough men to follow them. Might be nice to see who they meet.” He turned back to me. “Was there something you wanted, or you just come up here to watch the show?”

“Actually, I was wondering if you'd gotten that information I asked you for this afternoon,” I told him.

“Oh—yeah, sure.” He glanced at Gielincki and got up from his chair. “Come on back here—Gielincki hates people talking while she works.”

That earned him another snort and a semi-mock glare, both of which he ignored. Together, we walked back to one of the monitor stations flanking the bridge door. “I got your list,” he said in a low voice, digging a piece of paper out of an inner pocket, “but I don't think it's going to help you much.”

He was right. The list consisted of just four crimes: multiple murder, murder of a police or Pravilo officer in the commission of a Class I crime, death of a kidnap victim, and treason. “This is it?” I asked, checking the paper's other side.

He shrugged. “You're not going to find many other capital crimes anywhere else in the Patri and colonies, either,” he reminded me. “And at least one of
these
has only been made a capital crime since Solitaire opened up. Like Governor Rybakov mentioned earlier, people really don't like the death penalty much.”

I nodded heavily. “I know. Well … thanks anyway.”

He studied me. “So what are you going to do?”

“Not much I
can
do. I'll try talking to Governor Rybakov tomorrow morning, see if she can suggest anything.”

“Yeah, I heard she was expected. Probably not going to be in the mood for handing out favors, though.”

I thought back to the woman's obvious prejudice against religion … and about the fact that Randon was prepared to accuse her of complicity in industrial sabotage. “I can only try.”

Kutzko grunted. “Well, maybe Mr. Kelsey-Ramos will see his way clear to helping push—”

He broke off, eyes flicking over my shoulder as the bridge door opened behind me. I turned to look—

Just in time to see Aikman come to a sudden halt as he belatedly spotted us. “Ah—good evening,” he managed, his sense gone suddenly taut. In his hand was a cyl, a cyl his first reflexive twitching of fingers tried vainly to conceal. “I was looking for the captain; I see he's not here. Excuse the interruption.”

He turned to go, stopped abruptly as Kutzko took a long step around me to cut off his exit. “That's okay, Mr. Aikman—we were about finished, anyway,” he said easily. “What did you need the captain for? Maybe I can help.”

“No, that's all right,” Aikman insisted. His eyes flashed at me … but on top of the usual hatred there, I found a strong current of nervousness. “I just needed—”

“To call someone?” Kutzko interrupted him genially. “That's right—there's a block on outship calls from your stateroom, isn't there?”

Aikman's forehead darkened in anger. “There are laws against illegal restraint—”

“There are laws against aiding industrial sabotage, too,” Kutzko cut him off, his voice hardening. “What's that?”

“What's what?” Aikman asked cautiously, thrown momentarily off-balance by the question.

“That.” Kutzko took another half step forward, and his pointing finger abruptly became a darting hand that smoothly plucked the cyl from Aikman's startled fingers.

“Give
me that!” Aikman snarled, making a snatch for the cyl. For that one brief instant his sense was less that of a human being than it was of an enraged animal, and I felt my muscles tense up as I took an involuntary step backward.

Kutzko's didn't even flinch as his free hand deflected Aikman's grab. “Easy, Mr. Aikman,” he warned, voice calm again. “Looks like some kind of tamper-resistant datapack,” he commented, peering at the cyl's ends. “Shall we plug it in and see what it is?”

“It's an official legal document,” Aikman bit out. “For transmission and filing with the Solitaran judiciary. You break the seal by reading it here and you'll void it.”

“Then you'll just have to write it up again, won't you?” Kutzko said coolly. “Unless you'd rather just tell me what it says?”

For a long minute the two men stood motionlessly, facing each other like an echo of the ancient gladiators. The sense of defiance surrounding Aikman bent first. “It's a request for a judicial restraint order,” he ground out. “I want the outzombi barred from leaving this ship; and I want
him
—” he nodded his head sideways at me— “also barred, for collusion with a condemned felon.”

Kutzko's eyebrows went up in polite surprise. “Collusion?”

“Yes, collusion,” Aikman's said sarcastically. “It's a legal term—I doubt that you've had much acquaintance with such things. Except possibly as a defendant somewhere.”

Kutzko considered taking offense, decided it wasn't worth it. “I know more about law than you might think,” he said. “You want to tell me how collusion applies here?”

“Oh, come on, Shield Chief, let's not let company loyalty blind you to what's going on here,” Aikman snarled. “Why do you think Benedar got Kelsey-Ramos to take your outzombi to the HTI meeting this morning?”

“Suppose you tell me,” Kutzko invited him.

“Because he's preparing her for an escape, of course. Showing her the lay of the land—helping her to meet the powerful of Solitaire who might be duped into hiring a parasite Watcher, the way Lord Kelsey-Ramos was.”

There was a lot in all of that to strain Kutzko's temper, but he held on admirably. “You have any proof of that?” he growled.

“He doesn't need proof,” I said quietly. The flicker in Aikman's sense confirmed that I had indeed read his intentions correctly. “If he can even get that restraint order accepted for consideration, it'll be a couple of days before anyone can track through it and find it's nothing but unsupported innuendo.”

Kutzko nodded understanding.
“Uh-huh.
By which time we'll be out of here and on our way to the ring mines.”

Reaching forward, Aikman plucked the cyl from Kutzko's unresisting hand and stalked across the bridge to Gielincki, who'd been wisely staying out of it. “Officer, I want you to file this document with the Solitaran judiciary in Cameo,” he told her, thrusting the cyl in front of her face.

She made no move to take it. “I'm sorry, Mr. Aikman,” she said, eyes still on her displays. “You'll need to get permission from Mr. Kelsey-Ramos before I can do that. If you'd like, I'll call his stateroom.”

“You'll comply, or I'll have you up on charges of illegal restraint,” he said coldly. “I don't
need
anyone's permission to file legal papers.”

Gielincki never had been the type to take threats well. Slowly, deliberately, she turned to look up at him. “Aboard this ship,” she said, her tone even colder than Aikman's, “you need Mr. Kelsey-Ramos's permission to do
anything.
If that offends your democratic sensibilities, you're welcome to go elsewhere.”

Aikman glared at her a moment longer. Then, without a word, he spun around and stomped back toward us.

Kutzko still blocked the door, and he made no effort to move. “Of course, if you leave the ship,” he said casually, “that cyl has to stay here. We don't have any proof that it's really only a legal document.”

Aikman's forehead darkened. “If you're accusing me—”

“Mr. Aikman,” I interrupted.

“Shut up, Benedar,” he snapped.

“I think perhaps I can help resolve this impasse,” I persisted.

That earned me a needle-pointed glance. “How?—by reading my mind? How convenient that you're here. How convenient, too, that there's nobody to corroborate whatever you decide is the truth.”

I felt my face flush with anger. “I don't lie about the things I see,” I bit out. “I have to answer to God for my actions, you know.”

His lip twisted. “Oh, yes, of course. It all comes back to God for you, doesn't it?”

“You have a problem with that?” Kutzko put in.

Aikman looked at him, then turned his attention back to me … and abruptly, his sense cooled, his frustrated rage changing to an almost icy bitterness. “Tell me, Benedar, did your Watcher schools bother to teach you any history while you were learning how to invoke God as justification for everything you did? Do you know what finally destroyed the Earth, for instance?”

“It was the increasing economic and political stresses of the last half of the twenty-first century,” I told him evenly. “The final disintegration came from a combination of minority demands and unrest, plus a surge of anger over the costs of the StarWay project.”

“Yes, that's how I would have expected a
Watcher
school to tell it,” he sneered. “This may come as a shock, Watcher, but it wasn't economics or politics that destroyed the Earth. It was religion. Religion that started a thousand fanatic brush wars. Religion that kept terrorism going long after most of the strictly political problems were on their way to being solved. Religion that tore apart every society from East to West and back again.”

“That was a long time ago,” Kutzko interjected … but behind the supportive words I could sense his own hidden doubts. He, too, had grown up being taught that same Patri version of the Final Revolution. “You can't blame—”

“The Watchers?” Aikman cut him off. “Tell that to the people of Bridgeway who lived under the rule of Aaron Balaam darMaupine and his God.
They
know what happens when religion becomes more than just a hobby.”

I felt a surge of anger. To equate religion with a
hobby
—

With an effort, I forced the indignation down.
Resentment kills the senseless, and anger brings death to the fool …
“As it happens, Mr. Aikman, I
have
heard that theory before,” I told him. “It gives the Patri and colonies a good excuse to dislike and even persecute religious practice. Now tell me why it is
you
hate me.”

His face went rigid, and for a half dozen heartbeats the bridge was filled with a brittle silence. “You don't need me to answer that,” he said at last, very quietly. “You demonstrate it every time I have to be in the same room with you.”

“What, because he understands people better than you do?” Kutzko scoffed.

Aikman sent him an ice-edged glare. “Tell me, Shield—you who know so
much
about the law—have you ever read the Patri Bill of Rights and Ethics?
Read
it, I mean, not just heard of it?”

“Yes,” Kutzko told him stiffly.

“Do you remember Article Nine? The right against self-incrimination? Good. Then tell me how such a right can exist in the presence of a Watcher.”

Kutzko's forehead furrowed slightly. “That right is supposed to be for judiciaries and trial proceedings—”

“No!” Aikman snapped. “It is the most basic of human rights, the right to the privacy of one's own thoughts.” He glared at me. “You have no right to do what you do, Watcher. As far as a strict reading of Patri law goes, you don't even have a right to mingle with the rest of society.” He held up the cyl, pointing it at me like a needler tube. “And if I can't keep you locked away from normal people forever, I can sure as putrid smert make sure you stay away from the people of Solitaire.”

He stepped around Kutzko, headed for the bridge door. “What about Calandra?” I asked. “She has the right to keep her life if she's not guilty.”

“The dead have no rights,” he shot back. “And zombis are already dead.”

I clenched my teeth, feeling a quiet panic bubbling up within me. With Calandra's life hanging by a thread, I couldn't afford to be trapped here in the
Bellwether,
away from the only people who could help. But there was only one way I could think of to stop him … and it would only add more fuel to his hatred of Watchers.

So be it. “Mr. Aikman,” I called as he opened the bridge door, “if you file that document, I'll have no choice but to tell Mr. Kelsey-Ramos what you did this evening.”

Mid-way through the door, he paused. “And what might that be?” he demanded without turning around.

“It was you, not HTI, who called the governor's mansion and told them that Calandra would be with us.”

He still didn't turn; but I didn't need to see his face. The stiffening of back and neck muscles was all the proof I needed that my guess was indeed correct. “You told them Calandra would be along,” I continued, “and that she was a Watcher and a condemned felon.”

“She
is,”
he almost snarled over his shoulder. “She has no legal right to be out of her cell, let alone out of the ship.”

“I doubt Mr. Kelsey-Ramos would see it that way,” I pointed out. “He might consider it an interference with his mission to collect information here … in which case he might well have you removed from the
Bellwether
for the remainder of the trip.”

Again, the tightening of muscles told me I'd hit close to the nerve. In the corner of my eye I could see that Kutzko was watching closely … and that he hadn't caught either of Aikman's reactions. “And you can't afford that, can you?” I continued. “HTI wants one of their people aboard to keep track of what Mr. Kelsey-Ramos does, and you're it.”

“Dr. DeMont will still be here,” he countered, striving for off-handedness. “And you can't use the Deadman Switch without a Patri legal rep aboard.”

“Cameo's full of Patri legal reps,” I reminded him. “Many of whom don't have any loyalty whatsoever to HTI.”