Chapter Three
Spin One
Murphy returned Max Messina’s nod as the large man gracefully slipped out of an accessway near docking bay three. The Lost Soldier checked to either side, tucked his .45 into the shoulder holster under his jacket, stepped next to Murphy.
Who asked, “Did Makarov manage to contact you?”
Messina nodded. “The major read me in on what he saw and what you need. I hang back here. I only go in if you call for me. Or Makarov sends me the go-code.”
Murphy nodded. “Any questions?”
Max sighed. “Just one. I’d expect this kind of stunt from some of the hardliners still angry about Dolkar’s execution . . . but Family Otlethes?”
Murphy shrugged. “I helped Primus Anseker uncover some of the accomplices behind the attempts to sabotage Bowden’s mission. Today’s celebration of its success gives him some extra political clout.”
Max glanced toward the docking bay and shook his head. “Bad use of clout.”
“That’s why I’m here.” Murphy secured the flap on his own pistol’s holster. “Lethal force is the last resort, Max.”
“Roger that, sir.”
Murphy nodded his thanks and entered his override code into the control panel for the official personnel entrance to docking bay three.
* * *
When Murphy had been summoned to witness the trial that deposed Dolkar, primus of Family Kormak and condemned him to death, economy had determined the method of execution. Rather than sending him out an airlock, Guild-mother and Breedmistress Shumrir, of the Otlethes Family, had the traitor euthanized so that his “consumables” could be recovered.
Apparently, this day it was more important to send a very public message than to harvest biological resources from the eleven people kneeling less than a meter away from the inner bay doors. Flashing lights painted spinning orange and red whorls upon the plexiglass pressure barrier between them and the gathered witnesses, signifying that the much larger docking bay beyond the inner doors was open to space.
As Murphy entered, only a few of the heads that turned remained facing him; he was a regular visitor to the facilities of the Otlethes Family. So he was somewhat surprised to feel a hand on his arm, pulling him to one side. He resisted until he saw the fingers around his bicep: tapering and finely boned. Decidedly feminine.
Naliryiz leaned toward him as she drew him away from the closing personnel door. “What are you doing here?” she muttered.
Murphy sighed. “Trying to keep your people from killing themselves.”
“What do you mean by that?” she hissed, guiding him toward the small observation gallery. “The only people who are going to die today are those who almost killed us all!”
Murphy shook his head. “That’s not how I hear it.” He jutted his chin toward the captives. “It’s unclear how many of them had a choice, or if they even knew they were aiding and abetting Kemalis’s sabotage.”
“Is there such a difference between a traitor and his accomplices?” asked a familiar male voice behind him.
Murphy turned, speaking as he did. “With respects and regards, Primus Otlethes, there is a difference.” Almost as great as the change in your demeanor. He and the primus had been sipping celebratory tumblers of Stolichnaya barely two hours before the corvette had been brought into docking bay one.
Anseker Otlethes crossed his arms. “I do not see the logic of your assertion, Sko’Belm Murphy. Since the abettors were approached surreptitiously, they knew what they were asked to do was wrong. Furthermore, they expected to benefit from their actions. The only difference between them and Kemalis is that they did not have to carry out the sabotage themselves. If anything, that makes their crime worse than those we’ve already executed; they lacked the courage to put their own hand to the task.”
But Murphy’s thoughts had snagged on the words “already executed.” If this doesn’t stop now . . . “For a moment, let’s leave aside the details of their culpability. Let’s focus instead on their greatest, intrinsic value to your interests. I propose it shall not be realized by executing them.”
Naliryiz started moving them away from the small group that was gathering in the gallery. “Then what is the intrinsic value of these eleven?” Her question was barely more than a murmur; their voices had begun attracting attention, and this was a time for unity in action, not debate over the measures to be taken.
“Their value,” Murphy answered quietly, “is in their survival.”
“You would have us show mercy?” Anseker asked. “I appreciate that our ways are different, but this is not merely unwise: it is nonsensical. If you allow a traitor to live, you only encourage others to rise up.”
“Perhaps,” Murphy replied, “but firstly, in the course of aiding your investigation when Kemalis’s betrayal was first reported, I spoke to persons who know some of those you have lined up.” He nodded toward the eleven naked figures; two had already soiled themselves. “Everything indicated at least half of them did not cooperate willingly but succumbed to leverage, to threats against themselves and their family.”
Anseker shrugged. “If one is to be involved in affairs that determine dominion, then one must pay the price for that participation. It does not matter why they elect to do so.”
Murphy’s eyebrows rose. “Does that include saving one’s children from death—or what might be worse? That was the most common threat, from what I heard.”
Naliryiz’s violet eyes shifted to her primus. “Is this true?”
Anseker’s gaze did not change, but his mouth stiffened. “There have been mutterings,” he allowed. “But to substantiate such claims would consume time that we dare not spend. Any further contemplation of sabotage must be dealt with now, both firmly and swiftly.”
Murphy sighed. “If only that issue was so easy to address. And with such finality.”
Anseker looked like he was trying to decide whether to be worried or impatient at Murphy’s hanging tone.
It was Naliryiz who broke the silence. “What do you mean? Because it is clear that you are not speaking about future actions by the eleven gathered here. After this day, they shall no longer be able to abet traitors, knowingly or otherwise. Their faces are known and their loyalty is suspect; no saboteurs would risk including them in covert schemes.”
Always the fastest study and the sharpest knife in the drawer, eh, Naliryiz? Murphy nodded, made sure his feelings for her did not show on his face or in his eyes as he turned toward Anseker. “It sounds as though you’ve already executed individuals against whom you had ironclad evidence of direct participation.”
The primus nodded.
“Then even those who might desire your downfall will not dare cry out against their deaths, for fear that their own honor will be smeared by supporting proven oathbreakers and traitors.
“However, if you execute these eleven whose guilt has not been so concretely established, how many blood oaths might be sworn against you? How many might accuse the Otlethes of being more concerned with swiftness than certainty, when deciding the fate of others?”
When Anseker struggled to find a reply, Murphy used that silence. “On the other hand, I think there is a path that would result in few blood oaths being sworn—so few that they could not give rise to deeper and wider trouble.”
“Even so, we have this matter in hand, Sko’Belm Murphy,” the primus answered in a tone that was admirably firm and yet, had a hint of invitation in it.
Murphy nodded. “Clearly, you do indeed have this matter in hand. But since you do, why not explore another alternative, if it only costs you a minute to do so? An alternative that does not compromise either your display of resolve and dominion in this or any other circumstances?”
“Go on.”
“So long as it is understood that nothing I say is binding upon you, there is no harm in allowing me to speak to the condemned. In fact, allowing me to do so with all these witnesses present demonstrates your surety of control.”
“And what would you say to the eleven?”
“That you have allowed me, as your ally, to ask them questions and, depending upon their answers, offer them an alternative to spacing.” Anseker began to frown. “That alternative—and its consequences—would be my affair and my affair only, and yet subject to your approval in every particular.”
Anseker’s lips tightened and his eyes flicked toward Naliryiz, who nodded. The primus leaned forward. “If any problems arise, for any reason,” he muttered, “it will be on you and on your men.”
Murphy shook his head. “My men have no part of this, but you may do anything you wish with me if something goes wrong. I shall not protest. Nor ask for you to reconsider. Is that assurance enough?”
Anseker’s eyes were both hard and intrigued . . . and perhaps keen with new admiration. “You have my permission.” He waved for the guard who was standing watch next to the pressure barrier to admit Murphy.
He tried not to feel the eyes on his back as he made his way across the deck of the inner landing bay. He walked slowly, hoping that it made his approach appear both confident and somber. In fact, it allowed him to concentrate on each step, alert to any unsteadiness that might arise if his multiple sclerosis ambushed him.
He reached the pressure barrier, nodded to the guard; the far portside section retracted. Once he stood surveying the condemned, it whispered closed behind him.
All eleven faces were looking over at him. In some eyes, there was hope: in others, fear. And in a few, revulsion and hatred.
“You know who I am?”
All the heads nodded.
“And you know that Primus Anseker of the Otlethes Family is watching from the gallery and can hear every word spoken?”
More unanimous nodding.
“And you know why you are here?”
One struggled to rise as she spoke, but her restraints prevented her. “I know what I am accused of, but I dispute it!”
Another simply muttered. “I am no traitor.”
Murphy shrugged. “Here is what I know. Some of you are traitors. Some are not—or at least, were ignorant of the intents of those who threatened you into complicity.”
Many vigorous nods answered him.
“However, it is impossible to know which applies to each of you, and time is short. Primae at war can brook no uncertainty regarding the loyalty of those sworn to them. However, as I am an outsider, and so neither a primus nor a possible aspirant to such dominion, I do not have the same responsibilities or needs. My honor is not at stake, here, and so, my freedom of action is greater.
“But it is still tightly constrained. So what I am able to offer is this: If you swear a year’s oath to me, and your primus agrees, I shall hear your response to the charges of treason that have put you in this place.”
Murphy waited for Anseker’s objection. None came. He began walking down the line. “I make no promise other than this: that my people and I will do our very best to learn what part, if any, you played in the sabotage of which you stand accused. Our customs and legal forms are different from your own, and we have neither the time nor the inclination to educate you in their particulars.”
He reached the end of the line, turned, folded his hands behind his back. “If you wish to accept our judgment, nod as I pass you.” He resumed walking, back the way he had come. By the time he completed his walk, nine had signaled their agreement, although one was shaking so badly that the man had to resort to a stuttering “Y-yes.” The other two simply spat on Murphy’s boots. He did not pause or even glance at them; he kept walking, nodding to the guards that he had finished.
As the plexiglass pressure barrier closed behind him, Murphy saw Anseker motioning for a sidebar at the far end of the gallery.
Naliryiz joined him on the way, but remained silent until they stood with the primus. “Bold,” Anseker said. “Do you have any preferences regarding how to deal with the pair that spat on your feet?”
Murphy shrugged. “They didn’t choose to commit to me, so it’s not my business. But I’d advise that, whatever you do, you take them out of the bay, first.”
Anseker’s smile was wolfish. “So, you feel sending them out a regular airlock will be sufficient?” Naliryiz glanced at the primus in surprise, and possibly, with a hint of disdain.
Murphy’s answer was another shrug. “My only suggestion is that it shouldn’t be public.”
“And the others: how do you plan to proceed with determining their guilt? Polygraph?”
“Only to start with. A person can fool equipment. But there’s a way to assess their veracity on the back end.”
Naliryiz frowned. “I’m not sure what that means: ‘on the back end.’”
Murphy smiled an apology. “We’ll start by having them pledge their year’s oath upon something that they swear means more to them than their own lives. If they don’t have anything in that category, that’s both a difficulty and a good sign.”
“A good sign?”
Anseker nodded. “Yes. Because it may jeopardize their ability to take the necessary oath. So logically, if they had something that meant more than their own life, they would swear on it. If they didn’t, they would lie. But if they could do neither—”
“—then they are probably telling the truth,” Naliryiz finished for him, nodding. “And at considerable risk to the parole they’ve taken.”
Murphy nodded. “And once the oaths are in place, we’ll require that they follow an order that requires them to lie. Bearing false witness, for instance.” Murphy smiled. “What we’re looking for is a flat refusal.”
Naliryiz saw the pattern. “Because if they are willing to lie when they made their oath upon something more important than their own life, it means their oath is worthless.” She crossed her arms. “So again, those who refuse are trustworthy enough for the charges against them to be investigated closely.”
“And to serve us under their parole for a year.” Murphy held up a hand against Anseker’s predictable objection. “Which will include a stipulation that we are prohibited from giving them any orders that would place them in opposition to any SpinDogs or RockHounds.”
The primus shook his head. “You are strangely ready with solutions, Sko’Belm Murphy. Particularly in the face of a surprising betrayal. Are you always so calm when dealing with misfortune?”
Murphy shrugged. “There were so many ways someone could sabotage the mission that was likely we wouldn’t detect it ahead of time. So it wasn’t that surprising, and it’s been almost a week since we heard. But frankly, I’d say it was a stroke of good fortune, not bad.” When Anseker looked askance at him, Murphy drove home his point. “So, if the traitors hadn’t tried—and failed—to sabotage the mission, how long would the ringleaders have remained hidden, preparing to strike, perfecting their cut-outs and compartmentalization? How long would it have taken to uproot them all, if you ever could? And if they were still operating when the Harvesters arrived, what would have kept them from revealing the spins, and maybe our fleet, by radio?”
“Your explanation makes the mission to take the Kulsian ship akin to irresistible bait,” Anseker muttered.
“Well, the mission to seize the corvette had too many requirements and moving parts to keep it a complete secret. And it was a target that Kulsian sympathizers could not afford to ignore, given your ability to replicate it.”
Naliryiz frowned. “But you did not plan the operation to also reveal the traitors in our midst—did you?”
Murphy kept his shrug nonchalant. “On my world, we have a saying: It’s always best when you can kill two birds with one stone.” He bowed, departed, left both the healer and primus staring in his wake.
Evidently, he’d sold the “Terran mastermind” fabulation pretty well.