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Chapter Twenty-Eight


Spin One


“And you are quite sure about this, sir?” Kaminski asked as they approached the Trzgarth autofabber entrance. His Polish accent was stronger than usual: a sure sign that he was on edge. “You know, in the bible, it warns about dens of vipers. This is surely one.”

“You’re not wrong,” Bowden said, wondering if he’d overheard Murphy’s comment on their destination. It was the longest sentence he’d heard yet from the taciturn Pole. The scion was waiting for them at the hatch, in addition to the guards. “Still, this is something we have to do.”

“I don’t know,” Kaminski said, shaking his head. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

Bowden did, as well, but whether that was because of the way he’d been treated on his first visit or something new, he didn’t know. He stopped and held up his hands. “Permission to approach?” he asked, not knowing what to say and not wanting to be shot.

“You can come up, Bowden,” T’Barth said. “I see you.”

“And my companion?”

“Yes, him, too.” T’Barth’s tone took on an annoyed tone, but Bowden had wanted to make sure no mistakes were made.

The Terrans approached, and one of the guards opened the hatch. T’Barth stepped through and motioned for them to follow. One of the guards growled something under his breath, but Bowden decided to let it go. Kaminski looked like he was going to stop, and Bowden said in English, “Ignore him.”

Having passed the first hurdle, they followed T’Barth down a short tunnel and into the autofabber bay. It wasn’t as big as the Otlethes’, but was easily a match for those possessed by most of the other families.

“Impressive,” Bowden said with a nod, trying to start out on a good foot.

“You are the first non-Trzgarth to see it in some time. We do not let anyone who is not Family in here.”

Bowden bowed. “I appreciate you making an exception for me.”

“We also do not share our technology, as I told you the last time you were here.”

“Believe me, you made your point very clear.”

“And I don’t want you here.”

Kaminski shifted and Bowden shook his head before smiling at T’Barth. “That is another point that was made abundantly clear. I’m glad you changed your mind. I—”

“I haven’t changed my mind.”

“Then why am I here?”

“Because my father has decided to join in the stupid course that you have convinced the others to participate in. If we’re all going to die, he wants to make sure that we have a say in the nature of our demise.”

“With all of us acting together, I don’t believe that this will be the end, but a new beginning of prosperity.”

“You have convinced the others of this, but we remain doubtful. Explain to me how your plan is not the worst thing to ever happen to us.”

“Perhaps if you told me what you already know, I—”

T’Barth frowned. “Assume I know nothing.”

“In short, we are making a fleet of corvettes which will, supplemented by an auxiliary force of smaller vessels, meet the Kulsian force when it arrives. We will attack when their ships begin to descend to the planet and are too low on fuel to maneuver efficiently. By striking by surprise, we will destroy them.”

“I have heard that there are many ships in the approaching fleet, and it is unlikely that we’ll have more than thirty of your corvettes ready to fight them.”

“That’s true. We will make up for our inferior numbers by having superior technology—especially your outstanding optical trackers. We will also use a strategy that they have never encountered before.”

“I want to lead the attack. If you get our trackers, my price is to be the leader.”

Not only no, but hell no: I am not going to follow you into battle. But Bowden only smiled. “I’m sorry, but that’s not possible. We will be using strategy and tactics derived from those of my homeworld. You will be as unfamiliar with them as the Kulsians. Consequently, I will be leading the assault.”

“How do we know that you won’t run when the first missile is fired?”

“I was involved in the capture of the corvette we’re using as the template. I didn’t run in the attack on the Kulsians then, and I won’t now. I have seen plenty of combat”—a vision of a little girl impaled on a fence flashed through his mind, and he stifled a shudder—“back on my planet.” He chuckled wryly. “More than I wanted, probably.”

“I remain unconvinced,” T’Barth said. “Is that all you have to—?”

“Death to the Terrans!” a voice yelled off to the right.

“Stop him!”

Bowden spun as a rifle fired, and someone punched him in the chest. He tried to yell out but couldn’t muster the breath to do so. The horizon tilted, and he fell. He lay on the ground, his chest on fire. People ran past, yelling. Bowden couldn’t raise his head, turned it weakly as he tried to figure out what had happened and, more importantly, why he was unable to breathe.

Something flashed in front of his eyes. He blinked, then he realized it was someone’s booted feet. He rolled his head to follow the boots, discovered they were worn by T’Barth. Kaminski had the SpinDog in a chokehold and had turned slightly to put his adversary over his hip. T’Barth’s face was purpling as he flailed, unable to reach the Polish sailor or get a breath.

There was a reason not to do that, Bowden knew, but he had a hard time focusing enough to remember why. His vision began tunneling. No. We need him. All of them, a small voice finally whispered in his mind.

“No!” Bowden breathed, his lack of air preventing him to shout as he’d intended. He flung an arm out and hit Kaminski in the leg. The sailor looked down. Bowden twitched his head back and forth, mouthing the word, “No.”

The sailor frowned, surprised and uncertain.

Bowden tried again. “No—” he murmured.

Then his vision narrowed to a pinpoint and the lights went out.

* * *

Fiezel looked up from the simulation as Kaminski staggered into the simulator control room. The Pole looked lost, his eyes searching for something, but not finding it. It looked like one of his eyes was blackened and shut, his clothes were torn, and his uniform was missing its left sleeve. After a second, Fiezel realized that the red on the man’s front wasn’t paint, but blood. A lot of it.

“Oh, my God!” Fiezel yelled. “What happened? Where’s Bowden?”

Kaminski’s mouth opened and closed, like a fish out of water, then he finally gasped, “Shot.”

“He’s been shot?” Fiezel exclaimed. “Where? How?”

“Trzgarth.”

The sailor looked like he was about to collapse, so Fiezel got up and steered him into the chair. Kaminski collapsed into it. The metal groaned as his bulk hit it, but held.

“What do we need to do? Where is he?”

“Medical. I take to medical.”

Fiezel started to run out, but the Pole reached out a massive hand and grabbed Fiezel’s arm, stopping him in his tracks.

“I’ve got to go see him.”

“Can’t,” Kaminski muttered. “Kicked out. Not go back.”

“The medics are working on him?”

“Tak.” Yes. “Medics trying to save life.”

“What happened?” Fiezel asked. “You went to visit the Trzgarth, and they shot him?”

“We . . . we went to Trzgarth fabber,” the Pole said, his vision focused somewhere else. “Were talking to asshole son. Want to punch in throat. Then man appeared with gun. Shot Bowden through chest and ran.” He shook his head.

“Okay,” Fiezel said, “what happened next?”

“Choked asshole son like wanted all along. Bowden made me stop.”

Too bad. If anyone needed to die, it was T’Barth.

“Then what happened?” Fiezel asked when Kaminski didn’t continue.

“What’s going on?” Burg asked, walking into the room. “The simulator just failed and everyone’s trying to contact you. I was just about to kill a—” He stopped as his eyes hit Kaminski. “What’s going on?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” Fiezel said. He motioned to Kaminski. “Bowden was shot when he visited the Trzgarth. Finish the story, Kaminski.”

“Guy with rifle ran. I pick up Bowden to take to medical, but asshole son tell me to stop. I tell him to go have sex with mother. Asshole son not like that. Ten, maybe twelve, men jump on me, take Bowden from me.” He looked down at his right fist. It was bloody and torn. “I kick five, maybe six asses, then get hit in head from behind. Wake up to find Bowden and asshole son gone. Men say they take him to medical. I go there and ask. They say they have him but can’t see him. He have . . . trauma.” He sniffed and a tear ran down his cheek. “I failed Bowden. Not keep him safe.”

“It’s not your fault,” Fiezel said. “Were you expecting to jump in front of the bullet?”

“Yes!” Kaminski roared as a tear ran down his other cheek. “Was my job, and I fail. I too focused on asshole son. Not see shooter.”

“If he’s in medical, I’m sure he’ll be okay,” Fiezel replied. “The drugs they have on the planet below are incredible.”

“What do we do?” Burg asked. “If T’Barth killed Bowden, especially after they gave him their oath that he would be protected . . . how will the Lost Soldiers answer that?”

Fiezel shook his head and swallowed. “I don’t know, but we’re going to cancel the rest of the simulators for today.” He motioned to Kaminski. “Get him cleaned up. He got hit in the head, so he probably needs to go to medical and get it looked at.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to go find Murphy and let him know. Then I’m going to do whatever I can to help . . . especially if it includes killing T’Barth.”

* * *

After stopping by his berth for his pistol, Fiezel went to Murphy’s office, only to find that the colonel had already heard about what had happened and gone to medical. As Murphy hadn’t left any instructions—or said what the response would be—Fiezel followed him to the medical section.

The first thing he saw on entering the space was T’Barth talking to two of his goons. Without conscious thought, his pistol appeared in his hand as he stalked toward them.

“No,” Murphy said softly as he intercepted Fiezel, grabbing his arm and turning him away from the SpinDogs.

“What do you mean?” Fiezel asked through clenched teeth. “It’s just like the damned VC all over again. Hide in plain sight and kill us when we’re not looking.”

“It’s not their fault,” Murphy said urgently, his voice low as he tried to tug Fiezel away from the SpinDogs, who had heard the commotion and were now looking at him.

“What do you mean it’s not their fault? They promised he’d be safe and then they shot him!”

“That’s just it,” Murphy said. “They didn’t shoot him.”

“Then how did he end up here? And who beat the shit out of Kaminski?”

“Kaminski was curb-stomped by the Trzgarths. They tried to take Bowden, to get him here faster than Kaminski alone. He misunderstood and went berserk.” Murphy jerked a thumb farther into medical. “Four members of the Trzgarth Family are in there being treated for the injuries Kaminski inflicted, and there are apparently a few more sporting wounds and contusions.” Murphy chuckled. “Kaminski gave a lot better than he received.”

“Who shot Bowden, then?” Fiezel asked.

“Lakglurm Glarzhen,” T’Barth said harshly, walking over with his two cronies.

Fiezel turned to Murphy. “And we’re supposed to believe them? Lakglurm was in the pilot training program to run one of the corvettes.”

“You will need a new trainee,” T’Barth said with a harsh cough, and Fiezel realized the SpinDog wasn’t talking hoarsely on purpose; that was all he was able to do.

T’Barth continued, “My men caught him as he tried to flee. He put up a fight, and they had no choice but to kill him—”

“Of course they didn’t.”

T’Barth frowned. “I had told them to bring him back alive so we could question him prior to putting him out an airlock without a suit.”

“Oh.” Fiezel thought a moment and shook his head. “But why would Lakglurm shoot Bowden? And why do it there?”

“Apparently, he was hoping to get away and have the blame fall on the Trzgarth,” Murphy said. “As for why he did it . . . are you aware of where Bowden was going after meeting with T’Barth?”

“To go inspect one of the Families’ fabbers for cheating.”

“Do you know whose?”

“It was—” Fiezel winced as it came to him. “The Glarzhen Family.”

“The primus of the family has already disowned Lakglurm and blamed him for all of the cheating that went on with equipping their corvettes.”

“So that’s it? Lakglurm’s dead, Bowden’s shot, and we all live happily ever after?”

“That’s it; end of story.” Murphy looked at T’Barth. “I will take it from here. Thank you for your help.”

The SpinDog nodded curtly, turned, and walked out of medical with his goons following him.

Fiezel shook his head. “I can’t believe they just get to walk away.”

“What do you want them to do? They had intended to join us, anyway. Bowden’s meeting with them was only supposed to be a perfunctory bit of political theater. They were already ‘in.’ Still, they had taken an oath to ensure Bowden’s safety, and they failed to provide it. They killed the attempted assassin, who was disowned by his father. They only other thing they could do is declare a blood feud against Lakglurm’s Family, which no one wants.”

“I might.”

“That’s enough,” Murphy said sternly. “Even if we wanted that, we can’t afford it. We need everyone working hard to prepare for the Kulsians, not carrying out a vendetta. Especially one that might drag in a lot more Families once it started.” He shook his head. “It’s far better for all involved to let this go.”

“Even if Lakglurm’s primus knew all about it and is just using his son as a scapegoat?”

Murphy nodded. “He probably did know, at least about the cheating, although Lakglurm might have tried to kill Bowden on his own.”

“He might have.” Fiezel sighed. “Early on in training, Bowden challenged him. Lakglurm probably bore him a grudge from then.”

“Perhaps so,” Murphy said. “And, assuming that Bowden pulls through, this may work in our favor.”

“How so?”

“Hopefully, this incident will be a unifying event that brings everyone together. Not only that, but the Trzgarth Primus has promised to put all of his autofabbing capability into producing corvettes and attack packets for us.”

Fiezel clenched his jaw rather than allow it to fall open. How can you be so bloody minded, Murphy? he wondered. Probably because he has to, he answered himself after a moment. Fiezel sighed, letting it go. “What is the prognosis for Bowden?”

“Good. Naliryiz, the SpinDog healer, is in there with our medics. Apparently, he was shot by a small-bore carbine: a Kormak model that compensates for the spins’ coriolis effect. He’d be dead if the round hadn’t been a discarding sabot; not much more than a needle.

“Still, he has a collapsed lung and lost a lot of blood. The good news is that they say he’s going to pull through. The bad news is that you’re going to be running the training the next two or three weeks.”

“Doesn’t recovery take a lot longer for that?”

“If we were back home, yes, but Naliryiz tells me he should be back on limited duty by then. He’ll still get tired easily, though, so you’ll have to help carry the load.”

“Yes, sir,” Fiezel said. “I will.”

* * *

Bowden’s breath caught, and a wave of pain washed across his chest. “Ow.”

“Well, hey! Look who’s awake.”

Bowden knew the voice but his addled thoughts had trouble placing it. He winced and tried to open his eyes. Although he only managed to achieve a half squint, recognition occurred. “Hi, Mara,” he gasped.

“Well, hi yourself, sailor,” she said, her voice sweetness and light. “How are you feeling?”

“Like an elephant is sitting on my chest,” Bowden managed, a little more normally. “I guess—” He coughed and tried again a little softer. “At least I can talk again.”

She smiled. “It’s probably a lot easier without a collapsed lung.”

“I reckon so. Anyone get the license plate of—?” He broke off again and coughed weakly.

“The car that hit you?”

“No, the bus.”

“Well, yes, they did,” Mara said. The sunshine left, and her voice turned wintery. “They caught the guy that shot you. He didn’t let them take him alive, though.”

“Too bad.” Bowden chuckled weakly, trying to walk through what he remembered last. “Did . . . T’Barth—?”

“Yes, he’s alive and owes you a debt, despite Kaminski almost killing him. He’s also firmly in our court now, and the Trzgarths are doing everything they can to help us.”

“Good.” He inhaled shallowly a few times, enjoying the feeling of breathing again. “Who shot . . . me?”

“Lakglurm Glarzhen.”

Bowden coughed. “Fucker.”

“Apparently, he was behind the Glarzhens’ cheating on their equipment. At least, that’s what his father said when he disowned him. The bottom line is that justice was at least partially served, and things are moving forward as smoothly as they can.” She shrugged. “Around here, anyway.”

“When can I . . . get up?”

Mara chuckled. “Not anytime soon.”

“Have . . . a battle to fight.”

“I know. A battle to regain your health.”

Bowden shook his head. “Kulsians.”

“You need to get better first.” Her lips thinned. “You almost died. Hell, you were dead when T’Barth brought you in here. They had to revive you. You were drowning in your own blood. That was four days ago.”

“T’Barth brought me?”

“Yes, even after almost getting choked out, he made it his mission to get you here.”

“Wow.”

“No kidding.” She chewed her lip a moment. “Now, go back to sleep and get some rest. Dave Fiezel was here before you woke up, and he said he would be running the training until you were better.”

“He doesn’t know AWACS.”

“No, he doesn’t, but guess what?”

Bowden lifted an eyebrow.

Mara winked. “It turns out that I do, and I’ve been helping him with a few things. And Makarov has been catching up fast, bringing along his young protégé nicely.”

“Timmy Uggs?”

“Murphy’s adjutant in training and all-around boy wonder,” Mara grinned. “Makarov was pulled into the Soviet army from the civilian Academy. Seems he’s one of their few products who actually is a good teacher. With us handling the AWACS elements, Fiezel’s got the training restarted, and he can work on coordination, if nothing else, until you’re up and about again.”

Bowden smiled. “Thanks,” he whispered.

Mara started to reply, but a snore cut her off, so she smiled and left.


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