Deadman Switch

Chapter 24

After what the physician had said about the effects of the drugs Zagorin had been given, I wondered privately whether trying to talk to her now would wind up being a waste of time. Those fears, at least, proved groundless. Zagorin was awake, alert, and coherent, and though she was clearly tired she was willing to help.

Except that in her case, good intentions merely paved the road to nowhere.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Eisenstadt," she said tiredly, for probably the fifth time. "Believe me, I would be happy to tell you everything, if only to get this over with. I just don't have the words—I don't have them, period. The contact was like—" She waved a hand vaguely, let it drop back to the bed beside her. "The feelings, the sensations..." Her face contorted with the effort, but again she was forced to give up.

Eisenstadt stared at her a moment longer, his sense going through contortions of its own as he struggled to hang onto his patience. "Opinion?" he growled, turning to me.

"She's not just being uncooperative," I assured him. "She really can't find the right words."

"Perhaps a dose of pravdrug would help her vocabulary," he suggested, throwing her a darkly sour look.

"I doubt it," Calandra spoke up, her first words since we'd entered the room. "The problem isn't vocabulary. There's some sort of blockage in her ability to speak."

Eisenstadt frowned at her. "You mean a mild aphasia? Nothing like that showed up on her brain scans."

Calandra shrugged fractionally. "It may not be totally physical in origin. Perhaps it was a side effect of the way the thunderheads used her speech center to talk to us."

"Perhaps." Eisenstadt stroked his chin thoughtfully, his sense suddenly suspicious. "Or maybe it was done deliberately."

I looked at Zagorin, saw her own sudden tension there. "Why would they do something like that?" I asked Eisenstadt. "If they didn't want to talk to us—"

"Oh, they wanted to talk, all right," he grunted. "But if you were paying attention, you may have noticed that they didn't exactly give us a gigapix of useful information. Certainly nothing we didn't already know or couldn't easily find out. Maybe there was something they didn't want us to know, but that they couldn't hide from their co-opted mouthpieces."

I felt the first stirrings of annoyance. There he was, jumping to worse-case conclusions again. "I don't suppose it occurred to you that they might just be nervous," I pointed out with perhaps more heat than was really called for.

"Oh, it occurred to me, all right," he countered. "Did it ever occur to you that they could just as easily be hiding some massive plot against humanity?"

"What?—here in the middle of nowhere?" I snorted.

He eyed me coldly. "You and Ms. Paquin have already stated you believe the thunderheads are creating tension in the people of Solitaire. Our communication with them so far has been entirely on their terms and under their control; now, you tell me that—intentionally or otherwise—they're hanging onto that control even after the communication is ended."

Coincidence, I thought. Coincidence, or else simply the normal misunderstandings and gropings that should be expected in a first contact between two such different species. "If you assume the worst of people," I murmured, "you'll often get it."

"Maybe," he conceded stiffly. "And I'm sure you religious types would rather err on the generous side than take the risk of bruising someone's pride. But we can't afford that kind of naivete here." His glare flicked to Calandra, came back to me. "Part of my job—and yours—is to make sure the thunderheads aren't a threat, to humanity in general and the Solitaire colony in particular. You can cooperate with me in that or you can get out. Understood?"

"Yes," I said between clenched teeth. Deep down, I had to admit it wasn't an unreasonable attitude for him and the Patri to take. In some ways, that made it worse. "All right, then," he said. "So. Somehow, Ms. Zagorin can't talk about her little visit with the thunderheads. We know there's no physical brain damage, or at least none of the kind usually associated with aphasia. That leaves us either something very subtle or else something psychological. Opinion: would hypnosis help? Either standard or drug-induced?"

I looked at Calandra. She chewed her lip briefly, then stepped up to the bed. "I'd like to try something less drastic first, if I may. Shepherd Zagorin, I'd like you to try to relax and think back through the contact, remembering it as fully as you can. Words, impressions, emotions—whatever comes to mind. Don't try to talk about them; just remember."

I turned to explain to Eisenstadt, saw that he'd already caught on to what she had in mind. "Go ahead," he nodded to Zagorin.

She clenched her teeth momentarily. "All right." Closing her eyes, she settled herself back against the pillow. Calandra reached over to take her left hand as I moved to the other side of the bed and took her right. Zagorin's skin was warm, the muscles slightly tense, and I could feel the faint throbbing of her pulse. "All right, now, Joyita," Calandra said, her voice calm and soothing. "You're sitting down by the thunderheads and going into your meditative trance."

A sense of the normal. "Everything's going as usual," Calandra continued. "And now—suddenly—it's different."

Surprise—a touch of fear—recognition of a heretofore only vaguely sensed personality. "Yes," Calandra confirmed my own reading. "For the first time you're really in communication with the presence you've felt during previous meditations."

"It's strong," Zagorin whispered, eyes still closed. "So very strong."

"Overpoweringly strong?" Eisenstadt asked.

A pause. "N-no," Zagorin said hesitantly. "But..." She trailed off.

"She broke contact easily enough when Adams was in trouble," I reminded Eisenstadt. "Remember that they were in a very passive state at the time of the contact—your tech described it as almost a coma."

He considered. "You're saying it was more a matter of their weakness than it was of any inherent thunderhead strength?"

"I don't think they can take over unreceptive minds, if that's what you're worried about," Calandra said.

"I'd agree," I nodded.

Eisenstadt's lip twisted in a grimace. That was indeed what he was worried about, and he wasn't entirely convinced otherwise. "We'll get back to that later," he said. "Go on."

Calandra turned back to Zagorin. "You've made contact, now, Joyita. The thunderheads are talking to Dr. Eisenstadt through you and Shepherd Adams. Can you hear the conversation? Either end, or both?"

An oddly reticent eagerness flicked across Zagorin's sense. Eagerness, combined with... it felt almost like urgency. "They very much want to communicate with us," I murmured to Eisenstadt.

"Uh-huh," he grunted. "So again: what's taken them so long?"

"Quiet," Calandra ordered us. "Joyita, is there anything else? Something they want to tell you?—or that they're trying to hide from you? Something besides what's being asked?"

"I... don't know." Zagorin's face contorted with concentration. "There's something there. Something important. But I can't... I can't remember it, exactly."

"Something having to do with the dead thunderhead we're looking for?" Eisenstadt asked.

Confusion, frustration. "I... don't know."

Eisenstadt muttered a curse under his breath. "This isn't getting us anywhere."

"Maybe," I said. "Maybe not." I caught Calandra's eye. "You ever play Process of Elimination at Bethel?"

She frowned at me, then her expression cleared. "Yes, I see. Can't hurt to try."

"What can't hurt?" Eisenstadt growled.

"It's called Process of Elimination," I told him. "It was originally a Watcher children's game, but I know the method's been used in serious therapy, too. What we're going to do is to name several topics and see if any of them sparks a response."

"When you use a pravdrug you usually reach only the conscious mind," Calandra added, anticipating his next question. "This approach can sometimes get a little deeper—and if the blockage is in the conscious speech center, we may be able to get around it."

"So we should be able to just wire her up to sensors and try it that way, right?" Eisenstadt asked.

"Yes, except that the sensors would only record the fact of a reaction," I reminded him. "Calandra and I may be able to read the emotion behind it."

He grimaced, then nodded. "All right. Give it a try."

I turned back to Zagorin, realizing with a pang of guilt that while she'd been lying there listening we'd been discussing her like a lab specimen. But if she was irritated by it, I couldn't find the emotion. "You ready?" I asked.

She nodded. "Go ahead."

"Thunderheads."

Nothing. "Defenses. Fortresses. Body-homes."

Still nothing. "Solitaire," Calandra put in. "Spall. The Halo of God. Humans. Fear, or distrust."

"Anything?" Eisenstadt murmured.

"Quiet," I said sharply. There had been just the briefest of flickers... "Fear, Joyita? Fear of us? Fear of death?"

Another flicker. "Death," Calandra said, almost pouncing on the word. "Death?—the Deadman Switch?"

I glanced at Calandra... and in her sense I found confirmation of my own impression. "The Cloud?" I asked Zagorin quietly.

And there it was. Subtle, but unmistakable. "The Cloud," Calandra said, and shivered.

I turned to Eisenstadt. "It has to do with the Cloud," I told him.

He chewed at his lip, his eyes on Zagorin's taut face. Uncharacteristically, he didn't seem inclined to doubt our conclusion... at least as far as it went. "I need more details," he said. "Is it just that they're the ones guiding us through it?"

I watched Zagorin, replaying her earlier responses in my mind. Replayed especially her reaction to the word fear. "I don't know," I had to admit. "But whatever it is, it's important. And it's something that includes fear."

Eisenstadt took a deep breath. "Ms. Zagorin... do your records back at the—whatever the place is called; at your Myrrh settlement—do the records there include a list of your best meditators?"

Zagorin gazed up at him, and I could see her bracing herself. "I can't ask my people to do this," she said.

"I'm afraid I have to insist," he told her firmly. "We need to talk to the thunderheads again, and neither you nor your friend Adams is up to it—"

"And why isn't Shepherd Adams up to it?" she cut him off. "Because he nearly died, that's why. How do you expect me to ask one of my people to take that kind of risk?"

"It's not that much of a risk," Eisenstadt insisted, trying hard to be soothing. "We know what the contact does—"

"And you know that I'm the only one who's been through it safely."

Eisenstadt sighed. "Ms. Zagorin, I thank you for your offer—at least, I assume I hear an offer in there. But to be perfectly honest, we can't afford to let you be our only contact with the thunderheads. In the first place, even with proper medical preparation I doubt you'll be able to make contact more than once a day at the most, and I don't want to be stuck with that kind of limitation. In the second place—" He hesitated. "I don't want all our communications to go through a single person."

Zagorin's forehead creased slightly with puzzlement. "Why not?" she asked.

"Dr. Eisenstadt?" I put in quietly, before he could answer. "May I talk to you a moment? In private?"

He hesitated, eyes measuring me. Then, with a quick nod, he led the way out into the hall. "Well?" he asked, closing the door behind him.

"You're worried about the possibility that repeated contacts may subtly alter her," I said. "Bringing her emotionally onto the thunderheads' side, or even making her an agent of their will. Correct?"

He smiled grimly. "Maybe you're not as naive as I thought," he conceded. "Yes, that's exactly what I'm worried about."

I nodded. "In that case, sir, I think you ought to let Shepherd Zagorin be our only contact, at least for now."

"Oh, really? And what happened to all that stuff about how the thunderhead presence was affecting people over on Solitaire?"

I thought back to our dinner in Myrrh settlement, the odd passivity Calandra had thought she'd sensed among the people there. "It affects people here on Spall, too," I told Eisenstadt. "Only not in the same way. Maybe because the Seekers' meditation leaves them more in a position of cooperation than of competition with the thunderheads—"

I'd been thinking out loud, and I could see that along the way I'd completely lost Eisenstadt. "Calandra and I found a sort of relaxed passiveness here when—"

"I get the main picture," he interrupted my attempt to explain. "Assuming that you're not talking nonsense—and that may be an invalid assumption—all I'm really hearing is that the closer the contact, the more dangerous."

"Maybe, maybe not," I shook my head. "We don't know for certain—which is why it would be safest to keep these direct contacts limited to as few people as possible. Besides which... Calandra and I spent some time with both Shepherd Adams and Shepherd Zagorin when we first came to Spall. We don't know any of the other Seekers nearly as well."

Eisenstadt frowned at me for a long moment... and then he understood. "You really think you could spot any alterations the thunderheads might make in them?"

"I don't know," I said honestly. "But we'd have a better chance with them than with anyone else, at least until we've gotten to know them better."

Eisenstadt pursed his lips, considering. "Your boss—Kelsey-Ramos—told me that you have something of a gift for persuasion. Specifically, that you'd probably try to make you and your friend too valuable for me to easily get rid of."

"Mr. Kelsey-Ramos exaggerates," I said between dry lips.

"Perhaps." Eisenstadt grimaced. "Unfortunately, even knowing the hook's there, I seem to be stuck with the bait." He took a deep breath. "All right, you've convinced me. For now, anyway, we'll stick with Zagorin. I suppose it would make sense to wait a day or two before talking to them again, anyway—give us a chance to study the dead thunderhead we're allegedly getting." He glanced at his watch. "Which reminds me, I ought to go check on their progress."

"Would you like Calandra or me to come with you?"

"When we actually find the thing, probably. Until then—" he jerked a thumb at the door behind him—"your job is to spend your time getting to know Zagorin as well as you can. Just in case."

I sighed quietly. "Yes, sir."

He eyed me. "Something else?"

"I... don't know." I shook my head slowly, trying to identify the uncomfortable darkness hovering like a nighttime predator at the edge of my mind. "I guess I just don't like having to guess what it is about the Cloud that the thunderheads don't want us to know about."

He snorted. "I don't much like it myself. Do try to remember that it was you who just talked me out of sending for more Halloas and dragging the secret out of the thunderheads right here and now."

"I know, sir. But..."

"And anyway," he added, "whatever it is, they've kept it to themselves for at least seventy years. A few days, one way or another, isn't likely to make any difference."

He was right, of course, I told myself as he strode briskly away to check on his search team. After seventy years, a couple of days could hardly be important.

I hoped.