“But didn’t Bytomic make Wog all open-source just a few weeks ago? Why buy a whole company if you can just use your competitor’s platform for free? Several companies have already announced they are going to be doing just that.”
Rawlings scratched his head. Whether he was trying to provide succinct answers or trying to obfuscate was unclear. Either way, he was thinking hard about his response. “It’s more complicated than that. We want to integrate the Catalytic drone firmware with something like Wog, but it takes time and customization. Did you know Catalytic is one of the leading drone makers?”
“Yes,” Axel said, “I know Catalytic has drones.” He then continued with more emphasis. “I know they’re developing these drones for defense purposes, as well. I also know they’re developing mechanized robotics and cyber warfare software.” It was another factoid he’d learned covertly through his independent sources.
He tried to gauge Finn’s reaction, but his face was unreadable.
Axel pressed on. “Why are we building such a broad defense portfolio?”
Rawlings squinted at him, for the first time showing visible displeasure with the way the discussion was going.
“Can you at least tell me who the buyer is?” Axel asked. “Is there some major government that plans to bid on all this military tech?” Axel was being pushy and arguably offensive, but perhaps getting a rise in Rawlings would reveal something.
Instead of getting incensed or uncomfortable, Finn’s eyes softened, and he reached out to Axel, resting his hand on his shoulder. His tone was compassionate, almost apologetic. “I get it, Axel. I would probably do the same in your situation. But we are all duty-bound and honor-bound. I can’t tell you if Bhavin hasn’t done so already.”
Axel was deliberately silent, hoping for more elaboration.
Abruptly, Finn offered his other hand. “Good-bye, Axel,” he said.
It seemed Finn had had enough of Axel trying to hotbox him. There was nothing Axel could do now but accept the hand that was offered. “Good-bye, Finn.”
Finn started walking back to the kids. “Time to go kids!” He yelled. “Grab your stuff.”
Axel cursed under his breath as Finn walked away. He was too cool to reveal anything more, and from now on he would be on guard.
It wasn’t a total loss, however. If Finn could have debunked his accusations he probably would have. But he didn’t. He only refused to explain why they were building such a large arsenal.
The only way to get to the bottom of it now would be to confront Bhavin in the flesh.
ACCIDENTS HAPPEN
In midmorning of the next day, the safety harness of a wrench tore off and he fell from of one of the extension ladders near the base of the tower. His leg careened awkwardly off a platform stationed below. Owen was high above, still hoisting down bikes from the upper section he’d opened, so he had only a vague view of the immediate aftermath. The man survived, but even from his vantage point, Owen could tell the bones of his leg had been shattered.
When Owen rappelled to the ground the jovial atmosphere had transformed into one of terse commands. The mules carefully formed a gurney and were pulling the last empty platform toward the fallen man to load him up for the ride back. The man that fell was Newton, the wrench that the railroad folks had planned on using for their side excursion.
Rourke, Preston, and the other railroad folks were slinking together, forming a posse obstructing the path of the group of mules hauling the empty platform.
“Out of the way,” said Chester, gesturing at the group of railroad folks. “The rest of you pack everything up. We leave in five.” Many of the other mules were already collecting their things and placing them on their respective platforms for the ride back.
Rourke stepped forward, his sheath of hair flopping over one of his eyes. “You can go, but you’re going to use one of these other platforms for Newton. We need the empty one.” Rourke showed a toothy mock smile.
Veins bulged in Chester’s temples. “For what? I think you may be a little lost here, Rourke. We’ve done hundreds of runs successfully, and the reason they have been successful is because we know the risks. That’s why when accidents happen, it’s us mules who call the shots, or people get hurt. Now move aside, or get bent.”
Rourke didn’t move aside. A couple more railroad men maneuvered to stand next to him. There were now eight standing there. Some of them, including Preston, looked peevish and uncomfortable, but most of them looked menacing and obstinate, ready for a fight.
Thorpe spoke next. The words came quietly, almost as a whisper. “We are continuing on. There are some parts we need for a train engine. We need this platform.”
A number of the mules stopped packing and started to slink closer to the confrontation, burgeoning frowns on their brows. A couple were massaging tire irons in their hands.
“That’s just not how this works,” Chester said. “We need the platform to bring Newton back, period. Not only that—you shouldn’t be going off on your own with a platform and a handful of men, especially if you’re not staying on the bike tower run. It’s too dangerous. Get your train parts some other time, when we don’t need the extra platform.”
“You can make room on the other platforms. You can leave some bike parts here,” Thorpe suggested. Again his voice was such that he came off sounding meek, or afraid, but his expression and posture showed no signs of weakness. His countenance was calm and collected.
Another wrench, the one named Arsalan, spoke out, sounding incensed. “This is a waste of time! It’ll take us a good thirty minutes to unpack the bike parts and store them. And why leave the parts here at all? We could be gone with four full platforms and Newton right now, or three-and-a half platforms in thirty minutes, with you going off on some fool’s errand.” Then he pointed to his temple dramatically. “Add to that whatever amount of time it takes for you to get this through your thick skulls.”
“Yeah,” said one of the mules.
“You better get out of the fucking way,” another one said.
The gathering mules started to edge forward toward the railroad crew. Chester put his arms out in an attempt to hold them back. He also put his hand on Arsalan’s shoulder in an effort to calm him down. Arsalan held his ground, but he looked like he was going to convulse into action at any moment.
“Look, tensions are high,” Chester said. “It’s normal for everyone to get a little testy when someone gets hurt. The bottom line is we know with an empty platform we can bike Newton back in half the time. It might be the difference between him living or dying. We do things a certain way…” Chester trailed off as Rourke had stepped forward, occupying the space between the two sides.
“Yes, you do,” Rourke said. “You do your jobs a certain way.” He started pacing back and forth in fits and starts in front of them. “But if your job doesn’t deliver the desired outcome, you won’t do them your way, will you? In fact, you won’t do them at all, because guess what, you won’t get paid. Bartz paid for this expedition, and this is what Bartz wants done. Got it?” He smiled like a Cheshire cat.
“How do you know what Bartz wants?” Arsalan objected. “Look, everyone knows you took one too many rides without a helmet—” Chester firmed his grip on Arsalan’s shoulder, silencing him.
Rourke started prancing around again. Abruptly he drew two pistols from his belt.
“Whoa,” said one of the mules. Some took a step backward.