Deadman Switch

Through his mouth the godless is the ruin of his neighbor...

It made me ache inside, and with each step I took I had to fight against the growing desire to call the whole thing off.

Blessed are the merciful: they shall have mercy shown them... An i

One of Kutzko's shields would be standing guard outside Calandra's stateroom, I knew, but I had no idea which one it would be. One of the Ifversn brothers, I hoped; or even Seqoya, who would probably break me in two if he ever suspected what I was doing. Not Kutzko, though. I didn't want to have to lie to Kutzko.

I reached the intersection of my cross-corridor with Calandra's. Steeling myself, I stepped around the corner—

"Thought those were your footsteps," Kutzko commented genially. "Out a little late, aren't you?"

I forced moisture into my mouth. Through his mouth the godless is the ruin of his neighbor... "A little. Mr. Kelsey-Ramos's business doesn't always keep neat hours."

I saw his sense shift smoothly from mildly alert boredom to full interest. "What kind of business?"

"My break, maybe," I said, lowering my voice conspiratorially. "Governor Rybakov called Mr. Kelsey-Ramos half an hour ago. She wants me to bring Calandra to Cameo to meet with her right away."

Kutzko's forehead furrowed slightly; and even as the interest sharpened I could sense the first stirrings of suspicion. "What, at this hour?"

"That's what she said," I said, striving hard to control my face and voice. It worked; even through my guilt I could hear how sincere I indeed sounded... and the ease of that success chilled me to the bone.

Kutzko pursed his lips. "I don't like it," he said flatly. "Smells like a blazing setup."

I shrugged. "A setup for what? What ulterior purpose could she want us for?"

He glared thoughtfully into space. "No idea. Hang on—"

He keyed his visorcomp, quicksca

I felt sweat breaking out on my forehead. Part of Kutzko's job was to be suspicious, but if he kept at this long enough he was going to wind up ruining everything. "I really don't think this is Aikman's doing," I told him. "Governor Rybakov didn't show any signs of deceit."

"You were there for the conversation?—half an hour ago, you said?"

I could sense the thought underlying the question, that perhaps he ought to discuss this with Randon. The last thing I could afford. "No, I wasn't actually there," I improvised desperately. "I was down in my stateroom when the call came through—like Mr. Kelsey-Ramos, I was getting ready for bed at the time. But he did feed me a copy of the recording afterward." He frowned, and I could see the idea of consulting directly with Randon fade with the realization that he would risk waking him up. "I still don't like it," he said at last, "but I guess I'm game. Give me a few minutes and I'll rouse Brad out of bed."

I bit the back of my lip. Right here was where I was going to find out just how good my powers of persuasion were. Just how good a liar I really was. "Sorry—I'm sure he'll be disappointed at not being woken up for this," I spoke up as Kutzko stepped toward one of the wall intercoms. "But the governor said we should come alone."

He paused. "Oh, she did, did she?" he asked quietly. "Interesting."

"Not really as interesting as you might think," I reassured him. "My guess is that certain things she and Mr. Kelsey-Ramos discussed this morning may come out in the discussion, and that she'd rather not have any extra parties along."

"Ms. Paquin isn't an extra party?" he asked pointedly.

"She's involved in other ways," I said, hoping he would let it go at that.

He didn't. "Sorry, Gilead, but this whole thing smells putrid. For one thing, doesn't it seem strange to you that after kicking so much Rybakov should suddenly roll over and start cooperating?"

"It's been her government, not her specifically, that's been opposing us," I reminded him. "More importantly, as of this morning she owes Mr. Kelsey-Ramos a favor. A big one."

"And what if she plans to clear the record by doing him a pseudofavor in return?" he retorted. "Such as 'rescuing' a couple of Watchers who just happen to have gotten themselves kidnapped?"

I took a deep breath and braced myself. This one was going to hurt both of us. "All right, then," I said, putting a note of disgust into my voice. "Sure, send Seqoya along. Ruin the arrangement, and maybe a chance for Calandra to see her own record cleared along with it. And, incidentally, maybe send Seqoya to his death; because if someone really wants to kidnap us, they won't let even him stand in the way... and you know as well as I do that out in the streets a shield can't really do much more than make a kidnapping or murder more expensive. They'd kill him for sure, and maybe kill us in the process."

I'd expected Kutzko to take offense at my little tirade, but I'd expected wrong. For a long moment he gazed quietly at me, his sense that of indecision mixed with an odd touch of resignation, almost covering the hidden pain at the reminder of just how limited even his considerable shielding skills really were.

And over all of it was a growing sense that he had little choice but to trust me.

First Captain Bartholomy, and now Kutzko. Trusting in their betrayer. Brother will betray brother to death...

"You really believe Rybakov is playing this straight?" Kutzko asked quietly.

"I wouldn't be going if I didn't," I told him. "It may be Calandra's only chance." The words, in absolute terms, were true, and somehow it made them easier to say. The way he would interpret them, of course, still made them a lie.

He took a deep breath, exhaled it noisily. "All right," he said, suddenly briskly decisive as he stepped to Calandra's door and rapped twice. "You'd better be right, though," he added, busying himself with the lock. "You get yourself killed out there and I'll blazing-well never speak to you again."

"I'll keep that in mind," I managed.

The door slid open, and Kutzko leaned partway inside. "Ms. Paquin?—good, you're still dressed. Come on; you and Mr. Benedar are going on a little trip."

"What? Why?" her voice asked softly as she came around a corner into view. Her eyes flicked over Kutzko, automatically probing him. She looked past him to me—

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 pla

"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 a

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."