Deadman Switch

Chapter 13

There are a thousand small sounds and vibrations that exist in a ship the size of the Bellwether: the sounds of movement, of machinery and equipment, even the vague background fusion of a dozen mixed conversations. Small sounds, generally: a person newly arrived aboard ship would probably be totally unaware of most of them, and within a short time wouldn't even hear the rest. For me, though, they were always there, hovering at the background of my awareness and frequently intruding on it.

So it was that I was able now to lay back on my bed, eyes closed, and listen as the Bellwether shut itself down for the night.

Only partially, of course. One of the senior officers would still be on the bridge, while two or three crewers would similarly be holding station in the engine room and central monitor wraparound. And Kutzko would of course have one of his shields outside Calandra's stateroom. But the rest of the off-duty officers and crewers would be in their rooms, preparing for bed... as would Randon and the other passengers.

I waited until the ship had been quiet for fifteen minutes before leaving my stateroom. No one else was in sight as I made my way forward as quickly and quietly as I could. Second Officer Laskowski would be on duty on the bridge; and if I'd judged things properly...

I had. "Mr. Benedar," Captain Bartholomy nodded, his sense showing mild surprise at my presence as I entered the bridge. Laskowski glanced up from his status readouts, returned his attention to his work without saying anything.

"Captain," I nodded in return, fighting to keep my voice normal. "I'm glad I caught you—Mr. Kelsey-Ramos told me you'd probably be here and could give me a hand."

In my ears the lie seemed so patently obvious that for that first horrible second I was certain that there was absolutely no way Bartholomy could fail to detect it. My stomach knotted spasmodically, and I waited an eternity for him to call me on it—

"Yes, I usually do a quick check before I turn in," he grunted. "What can I do for you?"

Through the pounding in my ears I dimly noticed I was holding my breath. "I need to put in a request with the tower," I said through dry lips, begi

Bartholomy's eyebrows rose politely. "Mr. Kelsey-Ramos has decided he doesn't trust the Bellwether?"

I matched his smile as best I could. "Hardly, Captain. No, he's decided it might be a good idea for us to take copies of the HTI data out to the ring mines on two separate ships."

He frowned; but in interest, not suspicion. "The stuffs that explosive, eh? I've been hearing rumors about it."

"HTI's already tried to get it back once," I told him, reading both him and the eavesdropping Laskowski as deeply as I could. Not a spark of suspicion in either of them; and it gave me the confidence to throw in a small embellishment. "The problem now is that Dapper Schock says there are ways of at least partially scrambling computer data from outside a ship in deep space."

Bartholomy snorted. "That's a new one on me," he commented. "Did Mr. Kelsey-Ramos say how big a crew he was pla

"Just me," I said.

The eyebrows went up again, and I immediately wished I'd quoted a larger number. Still no suspicion, but abruptly his sense had switched from interest to uncertainty. "Just you?" he echoed.

"Yes," I nodded, my stomach knotting up again. "Most everybody else is needed here during flight." A flicker of an idea in his eyes—a touch of distaste along with it—distaste that seemed to indicate a personality conflict—"Besides," I added, hoping I had read him correctly, "Mr. Kelsey-Ramos said that if too many people show up missing, Aikman is likely to notice and get suspicious."

I'd indeed read him right. Bartholomy nodded, uncertainties fading as his own thought was quoted back to him. "Yes, I was just thinking that," he grunted. "Well, let's see what we can do."

Stepping back over to his command station, he sat down and keyed the phone. "Spaceport Tower," he instructed it. "...Yes, this is Captain Bartholomy aboard the Bellwether. I need to locate something along the lines of a shrink-yacht, as soon as possible... no, with preprogramming capability... yes, I'll hold on." He looked up at me. "She's going to check and see what they've got."

The sense of him was a knowing sort of anticipation... "Mr. Kelsey-Ramos said that they did regularly rent out ships," I said, daring again.

And again I'd hit the mark. "Yes, that's what she said," he nodded. "It's just a matter of—yes?" he interrupted himself, looking back at the display. "...say again?" he said, reaching for his keyboard. "A Cricket V Rockhopper; right. Can you feed me the specs?"

The light reflecting from his face changed subtly, indicating the display had split between the phone and the tower's computer records. One look, and his sense became one of satisfaction. "Sounds good, Tower, we'll take it. When can it be ready?" He looked up at me. "How soon do you want it?"

"As soon as possible," I said. A sense of unreality was creeping over me. This was actually working...

"We'd like it stat, Tower," Bartholomy said into the phone. "...Yes, an hour will be fine. Provision it for a four-day trip for one, plus a double safety margin. Bill it to our account—no, wait a second." An edge of slyness touched his sense. "Bill it to HTI Transport, care of Mr. Sahm Aikman, aboard this ship... Thank you, Tower. Bellwether out."

He disco

I licked moisture back onto my lips. "Can you really do that? Bill it to Aikman, I mean?"

He shrugged. "Oh, we'll pay the bill when it comes—no one's going to care whose account the money comes out of. But until it's paid anyone checking will find only HTI's name there. Probably won't fool anybody, but it ought to irritate them good."

For a second, superimposed on Bartholomy's satisfaction, I had a sense of how he would feel when he found out I'd lied to him. An almost choking lump of shame and guilt rose into my throat, and I swallowed hard. It didn't seem to help. "Thank you, sir," I said around the lump. "Uh... Mr. Kelsey-Ramos wanted it kept as quiet as possible, incidentally."

His eyes twinkled a bit. "Don't worry. I want to be the one who gets to break the news to Aikman when he finally misses you."

I returned his smile as best I could. "Yes, Captain. I'll... see you at the rings."

I left. Blessed are the merciful: they shall have mercy shown them... Blessed are the merciful: they shall have mercy shown them... I said it over and over again to myself as I walked back along the Bellwether's deserted corridors... trying to erase the mental image of the man whose trust I'd just betrayed.

—

In my eight years with Lord Kelsey-Ramos I'd had the opportunity to meet and even study a great many liars, both those who lied only when they considered it necessary and those for whom it had become second nature. From that experience—from watching that downward spiral into habitual deceit—I'd always assumed a second lie would be easier to tell than a first.

It wasn't true.

Bartholomy's face continued to hover before me as I walked down the corridor toward Calandra's stateroom/prison. His face, reacting to my lie... reacting to the chewing out he would undoubtedly receive from Randon when my lie was exposed... reacting to the possible loss of his job.

The plans of the upright are honest; the intrigues of the wicked are full of deceit...