"Then they're going to have some readjusting to do," I gritted. The pressure was still there, I could see now, resting up against my consciousness like a dull toothache. But now that I knew its origin and purpose its power over me was gone.

Lord Kelsey-Ramos cocked an eyebrow. "Well, we'll see about that, won't we?" he said. "So, let's hear this plan of yours."

I took a deep breath, my anger at the thunderheads fading into the distance... leaving a tinge of uncertainty in its place. Perversely, what had seemed like a gold-plated idea while I was alone in my cell was tarnishing almost visibly under Lord Kelsey-Ramos's unblinking gaze. "To begin with," I said, deciding to go with the least arguable part first, "I'll need to talk to the thunderheads again. The only way this is going to work is with their cooperation."

Lord Kelsey-Ramos blinked, his anticipation turning slightly sour. "These are the same thunderheads who've just spent four days trying to drive you into a nervous breakdown?" he asked pointedly.

"Yes, sir," I nodded, "because I'm going to show them why their plan isn't going to work. And why cooperating with me is literally their only chance."

For a long moment he gazed into my eyes, and I could see him measuring his knowledge and trust of me against the obstacles that stood arrayed against us. I held my breath; and the trust won. "All right," he said at last. "I presume you'll need a Halloa for that. I'll have Captain Bartholomy get the earliest possible lift clearance from the tower and we'll head out to Spall."

"Am I allowed to leave Solitaire?" I asked, a bit startled.

"As long as you're with me, you are," he said. "You've been released into my custody, the only stipulation being that you stay within Solitaire system."

A significant fraction of the weight resting on my back seemed to lift. I'd been very much afraid that I would once again have to steal a ship—somehow—and escape Solitaire on my own. Now—

Now, unless I could shake him later, I would have Lord Kelsey-Ramos along with me the whole way. Sharing fully in the dangers, and in the legal consequences if it didn't work... or perhaps even if it did. "Well, then, let's get going, sir," I said.

He nodded and waved his control stick at the intercom; and as he did so, I felt all the eased weight settle back in again. Along with perhaps a bit more.

We reached Spall six hours later—the middle of the night there—and put down at a freshly-built landing area about fifty kilometers from the Butte City. An aircar and Pravilo escort were waiting as Lord Kelsey-Ramos, Kutzko, and I disembarked; twenty minutes later, we were at the encampment.

To my surprise, Dr. Eisenstadt was waiting for us, obviously alerted in advance that we were on our way. "Lord Kelsey-Ramos," he nodded, getting up from his desk as we entered. "Good to see you again. Gilead; glad you're out of prison."

"Thank you, sir," I nodded back, hiding my irritation with Lord Kelsey-Ramos for dragging Eisenstadt into this. We hardly needed his help or his permission to go talk with Shepherd Adams; all his presence here was going to accomplish would be to get his name on the Pravilo's list when this was over and they went looking for my accomplices. "With your permission, Dr. Eisenstadt, I'd like to go and talk to Shepherd Adams—"

"Yes, Lord Kelsey-Ramos told me what you'd need," he nodded briskly, slipping past me toward the door. "If you'll all come with me, Adams is just down the hall."

He led us out again into the hall, and I again had to fight to hide my irritation. We weren't in such a hurry that we couldn't have simply gone out to Adams's house and talked to him there—all we needed now was to bump into someone working late who might ask awkward questions.

Eisenstadt had at least had the sense to put Adams nearby, in one of the abandoned dorm-type rooms that the housing boom outside had made superfluous. He was dozing on a cot, and as we filed quietly in and Eisenstadt turned the lights up to a dim glow he awoke. "Hello?" he called tentatively, rolling over and propping himself up on one elbow.

"It's Eisenstadt," Eisenstadt identified himself as Adams blinked his eyes back to focus. "I've brought you some visitors."

Adams nodded greetings to Lord Kelsey-Ramos and me in turn, his sense more one of worried tension than real surprise. "Has something gone wrong?" he asked, his eyes coming to rest on me.

"Possibly just the opposite," Lord Kelsey-Ramos grunted. "Something may actually be going right. Gilead?—this is your show now."

"Yes, sir. I need to talk to the thunderheads," I told Adams. "There may be an alternative to destroying the alien ships, but I'll need thunderhead cooperation to do it."

Adams frowned slightly at that, but nodded his willingness to assist. "All right," he said, rearranging his legs into cross-legged position. "Give me a minute."

He closed his eyes again, and I could see him reaching for the proper meditative state. "I gave him the prep drugs earlier this evening, incidentally," Eisenstadt murmured in my ear. "First time he's used them, but if they work the way they do on Shepherd Zagorin he should be fine. What is it you've come up with, Gilead?"

I kept my eyes on Adams, searching for an answer that wouldn't be a true lie. "I think I've found a way to communicate with the aliens," I said. "Maybe. Thunderhead?—are you there?"

Adams's glazed eyes opened. Focused on me... and hardened. "You are Gilead Rac... ca Benedar," he whispered harshly. "Our enemy."

A shiver went up my back, and in my mind's eye I saw the muzzle of Kutzko's flash-welded needler... "I'm not your enemy," I told him as firmly as I could through a suddenly dry mouth. "I seek only life and safety for all—including both you and your enemies."

Abruptly, Adams gasped, his back stiffening. I jumped forward, searching his sense for clues as to what was happening—

And, moving with shaky clumsiness, he unfolded his legs and lunged at me.

I was caught utterly by surprise, my momentum still carrying me toward him as his legs straightened out to drive his body awkwardly forward; and even as I tried to throw my own arms up into some kind of defensive position, I knew I wouldn't make it in time. His hands, curved into wiry claws, reached upward toward my face— And dropped suddenly down again as the butt of Kutzko's hurled needler caught him squarely beneath the rib cage.

The thunderhead screamed; a thin, eerily wavering sound of frustration or pain or fury. Curling against the pain of the blow, he scrabbled around for the needler; but he wasn't even close before Kutzko was there, brushing smoothly past me to capture both of Adams's wrists in his hands as he kicked the needler out of reach. The thunderhead screamed again, this time unmistakably with frustration; and the sound seemed to break Eisenstadt out of his stunned paralysis. "Adams!—break contact!" he barked.

"No!" I snapped. If we lost this chance— "Thunderhead!—if the alien ships die, so will you. Listen to me—please."

Kutzko had manhandled Adams halfway back onto the cot. "You have no power ov... er us," the thunderhead spat toward me. "Your rulers will destroy... the Invaders."

"Yes, they will," I shot back. "And then those same rulers will destroy you."

"You lie—"

"Do I?" I cut him off. "Have they asked you what will become of the Cloud once the Invaders are dead?"

The glazed eyes stared at me, and I could sense the sudden uncertainty there. "No. They have not."

"Any mention of the Cloud at all?" I pressed him. "Any discussion of travel in and out of Solitaire system? Any questions about the Deadman Switch and your role in its operation?"