Deadman Switch

Chapter 38

"Don't fire!" I snapped, holding a warning hand palm-outward toward Kutzko. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him hesitate, his needler still trained on Adams's body, the fingers holding it bone-white at the knuckles. Never in eight years had I seen him as thoroughly rattled as he was now—and I could hardly blame him. "Don't fire," I repeated, fighting hard to keep down my own horror at the sight. "What are you going to do, kill him?"

His answer was a hiss between clenched teeth.

"I know," I agreed. "Just stay cool—I'll handle it."

"Oh, good," he breathed. "Mind telling me what's going on that you need to handle?"

I cocked an eyebrow at Adams's dead face. "You want to tell him, thunderhead, or should I?"

"You have lied to us," the alien whisper came again. The body, still slow and clumsy, was nevertheless getting too close for comfort, and I found myself moving backwards in response. "You have betrayed us. You will die."

"How could I have betrayed you?" I asked. "Haven't I done exactly what I said I'd do?"

The thunderhead ignored the question, as I'd rather expected him to. Logic and prior agreements were clearly not in the forefront of his mind at the moment. "You will die," he repeated.

I clenched my teeth, fighting to stir up some emotional energy. The battle was over, and I'd won—the thunderheads' fury was all the proof I needed of that—and with the victory all the drive of the past week had drained into deep fatigue. For the moment I honestly didn't care whether the thunderheads killed me or not.

But if I died now, Kutzko would die with me. For his sake, I had to see this through to the very end. "Has what I've accomplished made things any worse for you?" I demanded, forcing myself to look directly at the dead eyes. "Or have you forgotten that your existence as a race is directly dependent on the Invaders' own survival?"

"You will die—"

"Enough of that!" I snapped. "Answer my question—or else admit that you never meant to cooperate with me in the first place. That you intended all along to sabotage my efforts."

"There was no sabotage."

"Not yet, no," I growled. "But there would have been, wouldn't there, just as soon as I asked you what I should say to them?"

There was no answer. "Get it moving, Gilead," Kutzko said, his voice tight. "If you don't talk him back to the helm in a couple more minutes we'll be smashed into powder."

"We've got all the time in the world," I told him evenly. "The fleet's not behind us anymore—they're angling away from Solitaire."

He stared at me. "They're what?"

"They've chosen to live," I said, my eyes steady on Adams's face. "The only question now is whether or not the thunderheads will be smart enough to do the same."

The thunderhead hissed. "You bargain for your life?"

"Bargain?" I shook my head. "No. The bargain's already been made and is being carried out. I simply point out that killing us won't gain you anything at all."

"It will gain revenge."

"Revenge for what?" I snarled, suddenly tired of thunderhead singlemindedness. "For the failure of your grand scheme to have us destroy your enemies? It would never have worked—you should have known that years ago. Human beings aren't brainless insects you can manipulate without consequences—we hate and we resent and we fear, and no matter what you did with us, sooner or later we would have wiped Spall clean of you."

I broke off, hearing my voice ringing through the tug and abruptly realizing I'd been shouting. I took a ragged breath, forcing calmness over the frustration and anger and weariness. "You have just two choices left," I said quietly. "You can have us as mediators and, perhaps, as willing allies if you can persuade us that your side is in the right... or you can have us join the Invaders as your enemies. There are no other possibilities."

For a long minute Adams's body floated motionless in the middle of the tug. Totally dead, now, with even its alien life gone from it. "What's happening?" Kutzko asked.

"He's gone to discuss it with the others, I'd guess," I said. I focused on his face... "You've figured it out."

He gave me a lopsided smile; and from his sense I could see that one of my worries, at least, could be laid to rest: that he didn't resent me for having kept him ignorant of my plans. "I may be slow, but I'm not totally stupid," he said wryly. "Cute—and nicely devious, in all directions. I'd have thought that kind of thing beyond your talents."

I grimaced, feeling a curious sadness growing within me. "We all have the potential for deceit," I sighed. "Even Watchers."

He snorted gently. "As Aaron Balaam darMaupine so graphically proved."

Aaron Balaam darMaupine. "It's funny, you know," I said, the words sounding distant in my ears. "Every Watcher for the past twenty years has had to suffer because of darMaupine—the parents' sins bringing punishment indeed on the children and grandchildren. His name's a curse and an insult everywhere in the Patri and colonies—for years I despised the sound of it, and even now I can't hear it without cringing. And yet, it was that name that gave me the key to what we've just done."

Kutzko's forehead furrowed. "I don't understand."

"His humility name. Balaam." I blinked sudden moisture from my eyes. "You remember the story of Balaam, don't you?"

"Sure—he was a prophet sent by someone to curse the Israelites. The one whose donkey talked to him."

I nodded. "The one whose donkey revealed what was waiting for him in the road ahead—"

I broke off as Adams's body subtly reanimated. "Well?" I asked the thunderhead. "What have you decided?"

There was no answer; but the dead hands groped for position on the ceiling handholds, turning Adams's body back toward the helm chair. Visibly steeling himself, Kutzko moved to assist... and a couple of minutes later, the stars vanished and gravity returned.

I watched Kutzko lean over Adams's shoulder to study the heading indicators; and even before he spoke, I could tell from his posture what the thunderheads had decided. "We're heading back to Solitaire," he announced quietly.

I closed my eyes. God then opened Balaam's eyes and he saw the angel of God standing in the road with a drawn sword in his hand; and he bowed his head and threw himself on his face... "I guess," I murmured, mostly to myself, "even thunderheads know the angel of death when it stands before them."

Kutzko looked back over his shoulder. "The Invaders?"

I shook my head. "Us."