And if that happened, the Bellwether would have to choose from one of its own to man the Deadman Switch on its journey out... "Yes, sir," I said, my lips dry. "I understand."
—
We didn't go ourselves to wherever Calandra's cell was—Eisenstadt changed his mind at the last minute and sent a pair of Pravilos for her instead while he and I proceeded along the fenced-off corridor to the Butte City. We were there, and I was studying and marveling at the elaborate sensor gear that had been attached to several of the thunderheads, when she was finally brought in.
I didn't know where she'd been kept all this time, or under what conditions; but it was abundantly clear that she hadn't been treated as politely as I had. Her face was pale and noticeably thinner, her movements as she got out of the car vaguely hesitant. I took a step toward her, paused as I saw the warning in her guards' eyes, and waited instead for them to come to us.
"You all right?" I asked her quietly, reaching forward as she approached to take her hand. The skin was cool, but was warming up even as I held it.
"As well as can be expected," she said, her sense a mixture of irritation and tiredness and resignation. And in her eyes—
Abruptly, it clicked. "Pravdrugs?" I asked, turning my head to stare at Eisenstadt. "For the whole six weeks?"
A muscle in his cheek twitched. "Off and on during them, yes," he said coolly. "We needed to know as much as we could about the thunderheads; and as you yourself implied, she was a somewhat better observer than you were."
"And, of course, no one with the Carillon Group's influence was watching to make sure no one abused her like that?" I bit out.
His forehead darkened with anger. "If I were you, Benedar, I wouldn't push my luck too far. You're out on a pretty warm ice bridge yourself, and the minute you stop being useful there's likely to be a very fast thaw."
I glared back at him; but before I could say anything Calandra squeezed my hand warningly. "It's okay," she said. "He's right. And besides..." Her eyes drifted out over the sea of thunderheads, and I felt her hand stiffen. "Whatever's going on here, it's something we need to know about."
I looked at her, back at Eisenstadt, and swallowed my anger. "Where do you want us to start?"
A flicker of relief touched Eisenstadt's face. "Let's try over here," he said, the same relief evident in his voice. Clearly, Calandra and I weren't nearly as expendable as he wanted us to believe. I filed the fact away for possible future reference and we followed him to the edge of the thunderhead city.
"We've found several places along their skin where we can pick up neuroelectric signals," he said, squatting down beside one of the thunderheads and gingerly indicating places along its side and atop the curving crest. I noticed that he was careful not to actually touch the creature, wondered if perhaps the scientists had had a second demonstration of the thunderheads' defensive capabilities. "We can detect well enough when the thing is... vacant... but so far every one we've found has come back within the decay limit."
"The what?" I asked.
"Decay limit." Eisenstadt's general discomfort deepened a bit. "While the bodies are empty there's a subtle form of tissue decay going on. Nothing particularly serious, but our projections indicate that if the thing stays away longer than about two hours, irreversible damage will begin to set in."
Calandra shivered. "As if they really were dead."
The word hung in the air for a moment. Temporarily dead thunderheads; permanently dead zombis. Nowhere in Solitaire system, it seemed, could you get away from death.
"Whatever," Eisenstadt said at last. "We suspect that that limitation implies that this wasn't a talent that evolved along with their physical development."
I cleared the image of death from my mind. "So. You set up your sensors on one of the thunderheads, who promptly runs out when he sees you coming, and then you have to wait another two hours before you can tell whether it's dead or just off somewhere hiding."
Eisenstadt nodded sourly. "That's basically it—and we'd just as soon not have to go through the whole exercise with all two hundred forty-one of the smert-putrid things. And then maybe have to go outside to hunt one down anyway."
I looked at Calandra. "What do you think?"
A slight frown creased her forehead. "It would be a little like trying to single out a particular conversation in a crowded room," she said. "And from a fair distance, too. It's going to be tricky."
"Why from a distance?" Eisenstadt demanded. "Why can't you just go up to one of them—?"
He broke off, looking annoyed with himself as the answer came. "Oh. Right. They spook too easily."
Slowly, Calandra let her gaze sweep the thunderheads. "There," she said, pointing. "Fourth back from the edge. Is that one...?"
She trailed off. I stared at the thunderhead she'd indicated, searching with all my powers of observation for signs of sentience... "I don't know," I murmured finally. "It's hard to tell."
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Calandra lick her lips. "Well... there's one way to find out. Maybe."
She started forward, walking carefully out toward the thunderhead. I watched closely... and saw the subtle change. "It's gone," I called to her.
"Yes," she agreed, coming to a halt. For a moment she stood there watching it; then, almost reluctantly, she turned and came back to where Eisenstadt and I stood. "I don't think this is going to work, Dr. Eisenstadt," she sighed. "The signs are too subtle—" she waved a hand helplessly—"and there's just too much interference from the others around here."
He gave her a look that was equal parts contempt and disgust. "What about you, Benedar?" he said, turning the look on me. "You giving up, too?"
The threat beneath the words was abundantly clear: if we couldn't or wouldn't help his investigation, we would be summarily returned to our cells. From which I would go to stand trial before the Solitaran judiciary; from which Calandra would be taken to her long-overdue execution aboard the Bellwether. "What about the thunderheads outside the Butte City?" I asked, searching desperately for a straw to grasp at. "Surely some of them must have died, too."
"Some of them have," Eisenstadt growled. "Unfortunately, the two or three we've located have been dead long enough for the local scavengers to have made a mess of them. More to the point, they never show up in groups of larger than four out there, and I have no interest in trekking all over Spall sifting through groups that small for a fresh corpse. This—right here—is our best chance; and it's your only chance to put all those high-minded religious principles of yours to work. If you can't, then we go out and pull up one of the things at random."
I took a deep breath. "Sir..."
And at my side Calandra suddenly seemed to tense up. "What?" I interrupted myself, turning to her.
She was gazing unseeingly out over the thunderheads. "Perhaps, sir," she said quietly, her voice taut with a strange reluctance, "we could try asking the thunderheads themselves."
Eisenstadt snorted. "Oh, certainly," he said, dripping sarcasm. "What do you suggest we use: sign language or dot code?"
Calandra hesitated. "It... may be easier than that," she said hesitantly. She looked at me, eyes pleading—