Deadman Switch

Chapter 16

We set out from Shekinah half an hour later in a mul/terrain that Adams assured us was the best in his small fleet. The vehicle's exterior was in such bad shape that it made me wince, but the motors ran well enough and the sucon rings seemed to hold their charge without any obvious leakage, so on balance I really had no grounds for complaint. Perhaps, I reflected, eight years among Carillon's wealth had spoiled me more than I'd realized.

We headed off, following a barely distinguishable path that looked more appropriate for livestock than for vehicles. Calandra, I could tell, wasn't in the mood for conversation, and I had no particular reason to try and draw her out. So I got as comfortable as I could in a perpetually bouncing seat, prepared myself mentally for a long five-hour trip, and settled back to watch the landscape.

It was, I found, a surprisingly interesting landscape to watch. Even the sections of untouched native area we'd seen around Shekinah had hardly been the lifeless desert I'd been expecting, and now I was finding that even that had been relatively sparse.

Not that any of it was truly spectacular, at least not by normal human aesthetic standards. Most of the plants were a drab bluish or gray-purple in color—clearly based on something other than chlorophyll—and most of them were built low to the ground, with only a few types even as large as a mid-sized bush. But they were numerous enough, and with considerable variety. Idly, I wondered how many of those who so confidently described Spall as a desert had ever actually seen the place.

"I wonder why the plants are so thin around Shekinah," Calandra spoke up into my thoughts.

I shrugged. "I'd guess Adams's people are doing something to the soil to help their own crops grow—fertilization, or something. Maybe whatever it is interferes with the local flora."

"Maybe," she said slowly. "On the other hand... maybe it's a result of running fusion drives that close to the surface."

I sensed a cautious glint of optimism within her, and saw where she was headed. If the fusion drive was indeed responsible for the thin flora, we might have found a visual sign of human habitation. "What could the mechanism be?" I wondered out loud. "The heat wave from the landing?"

"Or else perhaps some chemical peculiar to a fusion exhaust," she suggested. "I wish we had some detailed information on the biochemistry here."

"And had a biochemist along to explain what the information meant?" I added dryly.

Almost unwillingly, she smiled. "That's a point, I suppose," she admitted. "Well... maybe someone at Myrrh will know something."

I nodded. The Halloas at Myrrh had, after all, been farming this soil for a couple of years now. Hopefully, somewhere along the line they'd taken the time to learn a little about their new home.

—

It was almost sunset when the car finally drove us into the center of a small cluster of homes and came to a stop.

The Myrrh settlement was in many ways a fainter echo of the Shekinah one. Considerably smaller, with a slight feeling of roughness around the edges, it was obviously still in the early stages of its life and development; but obvious too was the fact that it was indeed a true offshoot of the Halo of God. The young man who came out to greet us—a bit shabbier, in a frontier sort of way, than those at Shekinah—had the same underlying sense of peace about him that I'd seen in Adams and his followers.

"Greetings," he nodded as Calandra and I got stiffly out of the car. He did a double take as he realized he didn't recognize us; and then his smile came back. "Sorry—we don't get many strangers here. What can I do for you?"

"We're here to see Shepherd Joyita Zagorin," I told him, stretching aching muscles. "We've got a message for her from Shepherd Adams."

"Ah—I should have guessed," the boy nodded, his smile becoming more of a grin. "I've driven the Shekinah/Myrrh road myself—great fun, isn't it?"

"Marvelous," I grunted. "You should go into partnership with a kidney regrowth company—you'd both clean up."

"Probably. If you'll follow me, please...?"

"Where is everyone?" Calandra asked as we crossed the open square-like area toward a large meeting-house sort of building.

"We're having a common dinner tonight," he explained over his shoulder, "and many are working on that. The rest are either finishing up the day's chores or are out meditating."

He waved off between two of the buildings, and I saw a group of perhaps half a dozen people sitting a short distance off from the settlement, clearly deep in meditation. "You people certainly take this meditation seriously, don't you?"

He didn't take offense, not even privately. "There wouldn't be much point in doing it half-heartedly, would there?" he countered.

I couldn't argue with that.

The meeting house was full of busy people and delectable aromas that made my stomach growl. Our guide led us past the large, C-shaped tables to a small room in the back, where a young woman was diligently working with an old computer. She looked up as the youth tapped on the open door. "Yes, Thomaz?"

"Visitors from Shekinah," he told her, indicating us.

"Ah," she said, rising gracefully to her feet. "Welcome to Myrrh Fellowship. I'm Shepherd Joyita Zagorin; what can I do for you?"

I shouldn't have been surprised—even in those few seconds Shepherd Zagorin's twin auras of inner peace and leadership had been clearly evident, had I gotten past my expectations enough to notice. But I hadn't, and with my embarrassment at missing the signs came an even more embarrassing tongue-tangling. "I—uh—my name is Gilead Raca Benedar," I managed. "This is Calandra Mara Paquin. I—we—have a message for you from Shepherd Adams."

"Who failed to mention my gender?" she asked dryly.

"Who failed to mention your age," I corrected, spurred by an urge to explain myself. "In my—admittedly—limited experience, a congregation's elders have seldom been as young as you are. Particularly in a frontier community like Myrrh."

She nodded, and to my relief I could see she wasn't offended. "In the Halo of God, positions are based on faith and gifts, not seniority or status," she told me. Her eyes flicked to Calandra, back to me. "From which I take it neither of you is even a prospective Seeker?"

I caught the sense of the word: the proper name for what we'd been calling Halloas. "No, we're not," I confirmed, digging out the envelope Adams had given us. "Perhaps this will explain."

She opened the note and read it... and, watching her face, it was clear to me that the situation wasn't being explained nearly to her satisfaction. A sense of uneasiness began to color her basic calmness, and she took the time to read the note a second time. "I hadn't caught the significance of your middle names," she said at last, looking up again and giving us each a brief but probing look. "I've never met any Watchers before."

"We haven't met many Seekers, either, if it comes to that," I shrugged.

She tapped the paper with her fingernail. "Shepherd Adams would like me to extend Myrrh Fellowship's full hospitality to you—which, of course, we're more than willing to do." She hesitated, searching for a delicate way to ask the indelicate...

"We can't tell you any more than Shepherd Adams already has," Calandra spoke up. "For your own protection as well as ours."

Zagorin's lips compressed momentarily. Shepherd Adams, I gathered, was generally very open with his people, and I suspected it was this unusual secrecy as much as anything else that was disturbing her. "If it helps," I added, "we ought to be out from underfoot in two or three days and that'll be the end of it."

She cocked an eyebrow at me. Seeker Shepherd or no, I could see that there was still a strong latent layer of skepticism built into her view of the universe. But at least she was too polite to call me on it aloud. "Well, until then, Myrrh Fellowship and I are at your complete disposal," she said instead. "Shepherd Adams mentions lodging and power for your car; can I assume the first is the priority at the moment?"

"Definitely," I nodded. "I don't even want to see that car for the next few hours."

That got a smile from her. "Yes, I've done the Shekinah route myself on occasion. Well, then. Dinner will be in about half an hour; while we're waiting, why don't I get your lodging arrangements settled?"

I glanced at Calandra, read agreement. "Sounds good," I told Zagorin.

"All right," she said, coming out from behind the desk. "Let's go see what we can turn up."

—

The dinner was well attended, with about a hundred twenty people gathered around the tables, twenty percent or so of them children. Shepherd Zagorin had us seated next to her, an arrangement which enabled her to answer or deflect any awkward questions about what we were doing in Myrrh. The fact that she did so at least twice during the meal showed that, in spite of her own private reservations about us, she was nevertheless willing to trust Adams on this one.

The food itself was a little startling at first. So far I hadn't really had an opportunity to sample genuine Solitaran-style cooking, of which I assumed this was a variant, and it was far tangier than I had guessed from its aromas. But it was good enough, once my palate had gotten over its initial shock.

And as I ate, I took the time to study the Seekers.

The children were the easiest, of course. Full of energy and mischief-tinged high spirits, with few social barriers yet in place, they were like children everywhere else throughout the Patri and colonies. It brought back to mind Shepherd Adams's offhanded comment about beginning their meditation training early, and I felt a twinge of concern. Our own Watcher elders had struggled long and hard with the problem of how to instill observational discipline without overloading or even breaking their children's natural spirits, and I could only hope Shepherd Adams and his people were treading as lightly.

Especially given the obvious effectiveness of their training on their adult members.

It was vaguely astonishing. Granted, only a handful of those close enough for me to read showed anything even approaching the degree of inner peace that I'd seen in Adams and Zagorin—the majority, in fact, still showed strong traces of the same tension and low-level despair that we'd sensed down on Solitaire. But even in those the tension was clearly on its way out... and for perhaps the first time in eleven years I found myself actually beginning to relax.

Eleven years away from the Watchers of Cana settlement—eight of those years immersed in the greed-saturated atmosphere of Lord Kelsey-Ramos's circle of associates—had almost erased the memories of what a simple, loving community felt like. Here there was no competition for riches or power; no arguments that couldn't be swiftly worked out between the parties involved; no greed or grasping for things that ultimately didn't matter. All that mattered to them was each other and God.

It was like the warm touch of the sun on chilled skin; and I was eagerly soaking it in when Calandra stirred next to me... and as I turned my attention to her the whole comfortable sensation vanished like a soap bubble.

"You all right?" I murmured, keeping my eyes on those across the table from us. "What's the matter?"

Her tension was a subtle thing, well under her control. But it was no less real for all that. "It's this place," she whispered tautly. "These people. Don't you feel it?"

I frowned, stretching out again. Nothing. "No."

She glanced me an odd look. "The sameness," she murmured, shivering. "The placidity—don't you understand?"

I shook my head. "All I feel here is peace and contentment."

Her tongue flicked across her lips. "It reminds me of Bridgeway."

A cold chill ran up my back. Bridgeway... and Aaron Balaam darMaupine. No. No, it couldn't be. "Are you saying—?"

To Calandra's left, I sensed Zagorin preparing to speak to her. "Later," Calandra hissed, and turned her attention in that direction.

I took a deep breath. It couldn't be, I told myself. Calandra was simply misreading the peace here as something overly malleable; the strong leadership as something sinister. Surely Adams had nothing of darMaupine's insane ambitions in him.

Surely not... and yet, darMaupine had managed to hide his intentions from the Watchers of his era. Many of whom had been far more discerning than I.

After a moment I returned to my meal, and as I ate I continued to chat and smile with those around me. But the friendliness was guarded... and the food had lost much of its earlier flavor.

—

Dinner was followed by a worship service and then by a short fellowship hour; and so by the time Shepherd Zagorin led us from the meeting house it was full night outside.

"Beautiful view," I commented to Zagorin, nodding at the star-filled canopy overhead as we crossed the square. "It's been a long time since I've seen a night sky like this."

Zagorin nodded. "I know what you mean—I lived in Cameo before I joined the Halo of God. I've sometimes thought that even without the rest of it, the stars alone would make life here worthwhile."

Something caught my attention, off to our right... "Something's out there," Calandra said sharply, peering into the darkness. "An animal?"

Zagorin followed her gaze. "No, there aren't any animals that size on Spall," she assured us. "Probably one of our people meditating."

"What, at this hour?" I frowned.

"God takes calls around the clock," Zagorin reminded us dryly.

I swallowed, my mouth oddly dry. "Tell me, Shepherd Zagorin... what's it like?"

Even in the darkness I could sense Calandra's disapproval of the question. Zagorin, on the other hand, gave the distinct impression she'd expected me to eventually ask. "You mean, what's it like to be in direct contact with God?" she asked.

I nodded. "Do you actually hear Him speak? Or is it more like just a sense of His presence?"

She hesitated. "It's really sort of midway between the two," she said slowly. Prepared for the question or not, it was clearly not an easy thing to put into words. "It's a... well, a presence is probably the best way to describe it. A presence above and beyond that of humankind, circling us and filling us."

"And speaking to you?" I asked.

I felt her wry smile. "I'm sure He's speaking," she said. "Whether or not we know yet how to listen properly is another question."

Almost exactly the same words Adams had used at his failure to get guidance as to what to do about us. "But there are words to it?" I asked. "Or is it more like emotions or abstract thoughts?"

"For some of us, it's all three," she shrugged. "There's no obvious pattern—God seems to have chosen to speak to each of us differently. We don't know why."

Who has ever known the mind of God? Who has ever been his adviser? "Does it come clearer with experience?" I asked her.

"Usually, but there are those among us who were gifted at hearing Him from the first." She hesitated, just a bit. "As well as some for whom no amount of practice seems to help."

I heard something in her voice... "Such as the man who's out there now?" I suggested, waving toward the movement we'd seen.

I could sense Zagorin's surprise, and the wry acceptance that followed it. "You Watchers do live up to your reputation, don't you?" she said. "I wonder how you'd be at hearing God."

There was no insult or challenge in the comment that I could detect, merely genuine interest. "We're not likely to be here long enough to learn your methods," I reminded her.

"It isn't all that hard," she told me, beginning to warm to the idea. "I could probably teach you the rudiments in a couple of hours."

"We won't have time," Calandra put in. Her voice said to drop the subject.

Zagorin caught the tone, too, and reluctantly gave up. "Well, if you change your mind—either of you—just let me know. So. Shepherd Adams's letter implied you'd be heading out from here in the morning. Will you be coming back at nightfall?"

I shook my head. "Probably not. We have a lot of territory to cover, and we've only got three days to do it in."

She very much wanted to ask me what exactly we were looking for, but politeness won out. "All right. I'll have the computer figure out the likely power you'll need for three days and have the sucon rings loaded into your car. We also have a couple of fold-down shelters on hand—if you've got room for them, they'll certainly be more comfortable than sleeping in the car."

I tried to remember whether or not a spaceship's standard survival pack included that kind of shelter. "If you can spare them, we'd certainly appreciate it," I agreed. "But if you're using them—"

"It's no problem," she assured me.

I thought back to Calandra's fears that the Seeker communities would be hostile to outsiders. I would have to remind her of that sometime. "In that case we accept," I told Zagorin with a nod. "Thank you very much. Tell me, what do you know about the territory east-southeast of here?"

"Not very much, I'm afraid. It gets hillier out there—that'll be obvious a kilometer or so after you leave Myrrh—with some genuine mountains and buttes cropping up here and there. You'll find thicker vegetation about where the hills start up, too, though it shouldn't be too thick for you to drive through."

I sensed Calandra's sudden interest. "Thicker vegetation of the same type as around here?"

"Mainly," Zagorin said. "There's also more variance in species, especially the larger types like thunderheads."

"More plentiful ground water?" I hazarded.

She shrugged. "I really have no idea. It could just as well be something in the soil or in the plants themselves, for all I know."

Calandra's guarded interest was beginning to fade, and I had to privately agree that we'd reached a dead end on this one. Still, the assumption that a smuggler's fusion drive would do something detrimental to nearby plants seemed reasonable enough; and even if we didn't know exactly what type of damage we were looking for, the more plants that were around getting scorched the easier it ought to be for us to spot that scorching. "What about animal life, then?" I asked Zagorin. "Any predators big enough for us to worry about?"

"In the middle of God's kingdom?" she asked, gently reproving. "No."

Beside me, I sensed Calandra's grimace. "Of course," I murmured. "Well, then..." I paused, groping for something else to say.

"Here we are," Zagorin spoke up smoothly into the gap. "I see the Mustains aren't home yet—will you be all right inside alone, Calandra?"

"No problem," Calandra assured her. "They prepared my room and showed me where everything was before dinner."

"Good. I trust the Changs did likewise for you, Gilead? Good. Well, then, if you'll both excuse me, I'll need to get back to my office and get that power-use calculation done. Sleep well, and please let me know before you leave in the morning."

We assured her we would, on both counts. Exchanging good-nights with her, we watched as her dimly lit silhouette headed back toward the lights of the meeting house.

"Predators in God's kingdom, indeed," Calandra murmured from beside me as Zagorin's footsteps faded away. "How silly of you to even ask."

"Let's be a little less sarcastic, shall we?" I growled, annoyed by the condescending tone in her voice. "Try to remember they're doing us a favor."

"Yes, well, you'll forgive me if I get uneasy relying on people whose brains don't fit right, won't you?" she shot back.

"Since when—?"

"Come on, Gilead. They come all the way out here just so they can worship Solitaire's Cloud? What would you call them?"

I sighed. "So you think that's what their meditations are picking up, too?"

"What else could it be? The option is that they're all suffering from hallucinations or genuine mass insanity. Unless you want to suggest that this really is the heavenly kingdom?"

The twelve gates were twelve pearls, each gate being made of a single pearl, and the main street of the city was pure gold, transparent as glass... "If it is, the accepted description is way off," I conceded. "You know, it just occurred to me... on the way into Solitaire system Mr. Kelsey-Ramos asked me to try and see if I could sense whether or not the Cloud was alive."

"And was it?"

Evert now, the memory of what I'd been asked to do made me shudder. "I couldn't bring myself to try," I had to admit. "My point was whether the question itself might imply the Solitaran officials are starting to notice the Seekers' success with their meditation."

"You mean we're back to the old knot about just what the Cloud really is?" Calandra asked thoughtfully, interested in spite of herself.

"And maybe whether or not we can locate its source," I pointed out slowly. "Because if there is a source and we can find it... it can presumably be shut off."

Calandra chewed at her lip. "So you're suggesting that maybe the Patri aren't just tolerating the Halloas, after all? Or letting them spread out over Spall just to get rid of them?"

"Triangulation, maybe," I said doubtfully. "I don't know, though. How do you gauge the strength of a meditation contact?"

She shrugged. "Don't ask me. This is your crazy idea, not mine."

I glared through the darkness at her. "Oh, right. Your crazy idea was that Adams is organizing the Seekers to follow in Aaron Balaam darMaupine's footprints."

She actually winced, her irritation coloring into embarrassment. "I only said the sense here was similar," she muttered. "There's too much placidity here. Too much comfort. Too little curiosity—don't you think they ought to care at least a little about the ecology of the planet they're living on? To me that says they're letting their leaders do their thinking for them."

"Sorry, but those all sound contradictory to me," I told her, feeling a twinge of remorse. I knew darMaupine and Bridgeway were a sore spot with her; I shouldn't have hit her there. "And I don't see any signs of that kind of twisted ambition in Adams, either."

She shook her head. "It doesn't matter. Whatever Adams has planned for the future, I'm not going to be around to see it."

I reached out and put my arm around her shoulders. "Yes, you will," I said with as much assurance as I had. Plus as much more as I could fake. "Don't forget we've now got two potential targets to go for: a smuggler base, and the origin of the Cloud."

She snorted. "Oh, great. And if we're really lucky maybe we'll find the origin with a smuggler base built on top of it. And an iridium mine next door."

The sarcasm displaced some of the depression, as I'd hoped it would. "That's the spirit," I told her lightly, trying to push it a bit more. "Hey—if we find a rich enough mine, we'll just go ahead and buy out Lord Kelsey-Ramos's interest in Carillon. Then Randon can scream at us all he likes."

Again she snorted. "You'd better get to bed—you're starting to hallucinate."

I nodded. "Sure. You, too; we'll want to get an early start in the morning." Besides which—I didn't add—a good night's sleep would do a lot to quiet at least the worst of her fears.

"Yeah." She hesitated. "Gilead... I still think you're a suicidal fool to be doing this. But... thanks."

I found her hand, squeezed it reassuringly. For he hides me away under his roof on the day of evil, he folds me in the recesses of his tent, sets me high on a rock. Now my head is held high above the enemies who surround me... "It'll all work out," I told her.

"Sure," she sighed, not even trying to pretend she believed me. "Good night."

"Good night."

I waited until she was inside, then trudged along the edge of the square to the house where I'd been given a room. Trying to bolster Calandra's spirits like that, I hadn't realized just how tired I really was. But it was all catching up with me now: the nighttime flight from Solitaire, the debilitating ride across Spall, the continual strain of having to lie with a straight face. Not to mention simply having to contemplate the enormous task looming before us.

The lights were out as I approached the Changs' house, for which I was grateful. Pleasant though I'd found the family earlier, the last thing I wanted at the moment was to have to face them. However paranoid Calandra might feel about the Halo of God, my own respect for both the Seekers and their goals was only increasing... and along with it was similarly growing a quiet dread that our presence here was somehow going to be used to destroy them.

On the threshold of the house, I shook my head sharply. Fatigue depression, I told myself—it was nothing more than that. As long as Myrrh Fellowship was unaware of who and what we were, they couldn't be held responsible for aiding us. Not legally, not rationally.

And yet...

I looked upward. Hanging overhead, like some kind of bluish fruit, was the partially lit disk of Solitaire, with three abnormally bright stars off one edge. Three of Commodore Freitag's ships, coming for us... and it occurred to me that the law was usually designed to serve the purposes of those in power. And that for those same people, rationality was more an occasional option than it was a requirement.