Chapter Fourteen
Spin One
“Just you,” said the SpinDog who had come to meet Bowden in the Lost Soldiers’ conference room. He jerked his head at Fiezel. “He stays here. You alone may visit our facility.”
“But I thought—”
“You can come or not,” the man said imperiously. “It matters not to me. But no one else. The primus was quite clear on this.”
Bowden turned to Fiezel. “Sorry, buddy. Back to the simulators for you.”
Fiezel shrugged. “Not like I wanted to see the piece of junk, anyway.”
“Right.” Bowden smiled. It’s tech-related and something that didn’t exist even in my time, much less during the Vietnam War. I’m sure you didn’t want to see it.
“Follow me,” the SpinDog said. Without waiting for an answer, he turned and walked through the self-closing hatchway without holding the pressure door for Bowden.
“Don’t worry, I got it,” Bowden muttered. If the SpinDog heard him, he didn’t acknowledge it; if anything, he lengthened his stride, and Bowden had to quick-walk to stay up with him. Not surprisingly, the autofabbers weren’t anywhere close to the occupied section of the asteroid; instead, the SpinDog led him on a hike that was well over a klick and had his shins hurting from the rapid pace. Bowden finally decided the man was trying to confuse him on the directions for how to get there, because Bowden was fairly certain that they passed through the same section of tunnel twice.
And, if the SpinDog was trying to get him lost, he succeeded. Bowden struggled on, though, with no idea of where they were or how to get back. He was almost to the point of either asking for a break or a slower pace when they reached a guarded hatch.
A SpinDog stood on either side of the entry, and when they saw Bowden approaching, both drew pistols. Bowden stopped, although the man—whose name he still didn’t know—didn’t. He walked up to them, muttered something, and one nodded toward Bowden. His indifferent guide turned, rolled his eyes, and motioned him forward as one of the guards opened the hatch.
Sounds of machinery running and metal hitting metal filled the passageway as the SpinDog went through the entryway and waved him through. Bowden stepped into the space, and his eyes widened; it was almost half the size of the hangar bay he’d landed in. A good portion was filled with machinery, leaving an open area not much larger than the partially assembled corvette that sat in it. Even with all the people crawling over it, Bowden didn’t need more than a quick glance to see the ship was destined for someone in the Otlethes family; it was outfitted with all their superior equipment.
“Obviously that craft will be piloted by someone from the Otlethes Family.”
“Yes,” the man said proudly. “It is mine. It has all the best equipment on it. I will teach the Kulsians not to try to claim dominion over the Otlethes Family.”
“That’s the best equipment you have? Radar? Optical tracking?”
The man nodded. “Everything is the best, from the motors, to the control systems, and all of the weapons systems. They are all top of the line, as befits a member of the Otlethes Family.”
Well, at least now I know where he gets his attitude from. Now how am I going to break this to him and get him to go along with it?
Bowden forced himself to smile as an idea came to him. “I’m glad your ship is the best, and I hope you kill a lot of the Kulsians with it.”
“I will be at the front of the battle; they will not escape my wrath.”
“What about your wingman?”
“Who?”
“Your wingman. What—” Bowden paused. “Let me start over. I think we got off on the wrong foot. I’m Major Kevin Bowden.”
“I know. The primus told me to meet with you.”
“I figured. The problem is, I don’t know who you are.”
“How is it possible that you do not know a member of the leading family?”
Bowden shrugged. “Mostly because I’m not from here, and I’ve been gone a lot. You know the corvette that you’re using as the template?”
“Yes? What of it?”
“You may not be aware, but I’m the one who brought it back.”
“Oh.” The man’s eyes got a little bigger, and his bearing took on a minimum of respect. “I knew it was a Terran, but I hadn’t heard who.” He gave Bowden a small nod. “I am Teseler, Anseker’s oldest nephew.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Bowden said, trying to swallow his reflexive dislike of haughty people. “So, Teseler, my question stands. While you are killing Kulsians, what about your wingman?”
“What of him? I don’t even know who it will be yet.”
Bowden tried to keep the smile off his face. “I see. Have you heard about the fleet the Kulsians are sending?”
“No.”
“It’s big, bigger than normal.” Bowden waved a hand at the machinery ringing the bay. “Even with all the Families producing ships as fast as they can, the Kulsians will outnumber us.”
“Then why are we fighting them? We should hide. It has always worked in the past.”
“We’re fighting them because your primus has decided we should.” He shrugged. “And numbers alone don’t guarantee victory in battle.”
“It is a good start.”
Bowden nodded. “It is. But we will have better ships, flown by better pilots, who are fighting with a better strategy. We can be victorious, but we must have all those things to do so.”
“I don’t understand. My ship is the absolute best we can build.”
“I understand that. What about other ships you’ve built? The ones that will not be flown by members of the Otlethes Family?”
“What about them?”
“If they are substandard, they will fall to the Kulsians easily, leaving you even more outnumbered. Ultimately you, too, will fall.”
“I will make sure I fly with other Otlethes. They will protect me.”
“Maybe . . . and maybe not.”
Teseler bristled. “Are you questioning the honor of an Otlethes?”
Bowden held up a hand. “Not at all.” He smiled. “Let me ask you something. Have you ever been in a fight where thirty or forty ships fought an equal number of enemy ships?”
“Of course not. We’ve never done anything this stup—er, desperate before.”
“I have.”
“You have? When? I have never heard of such a thing.”
“Back on Terra, I was a pilot of an atmospheric fighter. There were many times where we had huge battles of that many craft, all trying to kill each other.” Of course, they were exercises, but he doesn’t need to know that. “And in all of them, one thing is certain—the person you start off with on your wing is very unlikely to be there at the end.”
“I have heard your people have no honor.”
“No, that’s not it. When you get that many people in a big furball, it’s hard to—”
“Wait. What is a ‘furball’?”
“Sorry. That is a Terran term for when battle is joined between a large number of ships, and they are going all over the place.” He demonstrated with his hands.
“I can see the combat being shaped like a ball, but where does the fur fit in?”
Bowden chuckled. “You know, I have no idea how they came up with that word. It seems really stupid now that you mention it.” He thought a moment. “The term may have come from the term dog-fighting, and dogs—they’re animals on Terra—have fur, like the batangs do down on R’Bak.” He shook his head. “But forget that. All that matters is what it refers to: a situation where you have so many ships flying around that it’s easy to get separated from your wingman and end up with someone from another group.”
Teseler’s brows knit as he tried to imagine what that many ships maneuvering in the same space—each trying to get an edge over the other—would look like. Finally, he shook his head. “With that many ships all flying around that close, how do you keep the enemies separate from your allies?”
“It’s hard,” Bowden admitted. “And it will be even harder for us doing it in space where we won’t be able to see our enemies as easily as we could when I was doing this in atmosphere.” He paused. “We have procedures that help us identify friend from foe, but it will probably take the absolute best equipment we can put on the ships to make it work.”
“Not all of the ships have the best equipment, though.”
“And you want the guy on your wing to have substandard equipment? He might not be able to protect you if he does. Worse, what’s to keep him from mistaking you as an enemy and firing upon you?”
Teseler opened his mouth, but then he shut it before he said anything. He tried again with the same outcome. Bowden watched him with a small smile.
Finally, the SpinDog sighed. “I understand what you are getting at now and why you want all the ships to have the best equipment. But it’s not that easy.”
“Because that means giving away some of your secrets to the other Families that might not have had them.”
“We will lose advantages over them once this is done.”
“Hold that thought,” Bowden said. “Let me put it to you another way. I don’t care how the ships are armed, so long as they are armed the same. If you don’t want to share your technology, I’m okay with that, but you have to take it off the ship you’re flying, too.”
Teseler’s brows knit again. “Why would I do that? It makes no sense. Why would you want me to fly with inferior equipment that has a smaller chance of killing the enemy?”
“Because I’m going to be in charge of this. I need to know how all the ships are armed and how they maneuver. I won’t have time once battle is joined to figure out what everyone’s capabilities are before giving them orders; I need everyone to operate the same way. If that means all the ships have inferior equipment so that they can be the same, I’ll accept that as the price I have to pay so that I can achieve platform uniformity.”
“Platform uniformity?”
“It means that I can task any ship with any mission without having to determine whether that hull has the right equipment or engines or whatever. I need everyone to have the same systems and performance so I can direct them to where they’re needed without delay.”
“I am needed at the front. It is the place of honor.”
“And what happens if someone takes us from the side by surprise?”
“Well, they just—” He stopped and tried again. “I could just—”
“Fly through the formation to deal with the new threat?” Teseler nodded. “It won’t work. Not only will you mess up our formation, but now who’s going to fight the people in front of us if you turn aside? All our ships, wherever they are in the formation, have to have the ability to defeat the threat. Otherwise, we’ll lose them unnecessarily . . . and there isn’t a single ship we can afford to lose.”
Teseler frowned as he worked it all through his head. Finally, he said in a quieter voice, “I don’t like it, but I see the need to put our best equipment on every ship. The primus is going to like it even less when I tell him.”
Bowden smiled. “Perhaps it won’t be as difficult as you think. Do you have the best of every kind of equipment?”
“No.” Teseler shook his head and looked at the deck. “The Usrensekt Family has far more efficient engines than we do. They use less fuel and can fly for longer periods. We have very good optical trackers, but the Trzgarth Family’s are better.”
“Guess what?”
Teseler looked at him glumly.
Bowden smiled. “You’re going to give, but you’re going to get those things in return, because I’m going to them when I’m done here, and I’m going to make the same arguments. Do you suppose they would rather fly on inferior craft any more than you would?”
“Their honor would demand they have the best.”
“Just so,” Bowden said, happy to have the SpinDogs’ arrogance work in his favor for once. “We’re going into combat. They should have the best ships so we can maximize our chances, but you should have them as well. I need the best ships that we can build, and I need them to all be the same. Does that make sense?”
“Although I wish it were not so, it does. Perhaps when you go to talk with the Usrensekt, you will let me come with you.”
“I might, but why do you want to come with me?”
“I know the person who is in charge of their autofabbers, and their family is allied with ours. He has long desired our radar system, just like we have desired their engine efficiency, but we have never been able to come to an agreement on a trade. If I’m there to offer our radars in trade for their engine technology, that may ease the discussion.” He smiled. “It also will allow the discussion to happen much sooner than if you have to go through the primus of the family.”
“That would be helpful,” Bowden said. And the more “things” we have to offer from the start will make it easier for the other Families down the line to say yes when they’re approached. Bowden smiled. “When are you available to do that?”
“The sooner I can get their engines on my ship, the sooner I can become familiar with their operation. I can be ready now. Are you?”
“I am,” Bowden said, ignoring the grumble in his stomach. He’d already missed lunch and now stood to miss dinner, too. But if we can get buy-in from both the Otlethes and Usrensekt Families . . . “Let’s go.”