Suicide Run (Smuggler's Tales From the Golden Age of the Solar Clipper Book 2)

by Nathan Lowell

  Natalya pulled out her tablet and displayed the digital image, zooming it in. “Looks like just a piece of scrap,” she said, spinning the tablet on the table so Zoya could look.

  Zoya leaned in and squinted. “Conveniently placed,” she said. “And conductive.”

  “Rather a long-shot coincidence for random garbage.”

  “And linking two systems that wouldn’t be getting a lot of use until the ship was underway,” Zoya said.

  “As it would have been if we hadn’t disrupted the schedule,” Natalya said.

  The server bustled up to the table and slid two warm plates of granapple cobbler topped with a small scoop of ice cream onto the surface. Mugs and a carafe appeared as if by magical conjuration; the combined aroma made Natalya’s mouth water.

  “How’s that look?” the server asked. “Can I get you anything else?”

  Zoya picked up a fork. “I’m good.”

  “Thanks,” Natalya said. “Looks wonderful.”

  The server nodded and gave them another smile. “You’re the two working on the new bird, aren’t ya?”

  Natalya nodded. “That’s us.”

  She smiled. “That project has been a godsend. Got busy enough I had to hire more help.”

  Zoya’s eyebrows rose. “You’re Rudy?”

  She laughed. “No. I’m Sandra. Rudy’s my father. I took over the joint when he retired. Kept the name because, why not?” She laughed again. “I see you come in here for breakfast. Good to see new faces.”

  “Well, it’s convenient and the food’s good,” Zoya said. “You have a lot of regulars.”

  She nodded and looked around the almost empty dining room. “Mid-afternoons are slow, but it’ll start picking up for dinner in a bit.”

  “What did you do before the new project started?” Natalya asked.

  “The best we could,” Sandra said. “We had our regulars. The docks have always had a bit of business and the company kept a permanent party here. It was pretty cushy work for them.” She smiled. “The company gave us a good rental and we made do.”

  “Much changed?” Zoya asked.

  Sandra snorted. “What hasn’t? The engineers came in what? Two stanyers ago? Something like that. The new construction crews started arriving about six months ago. Seems like there’s more people here every day now.”

  “How’d that go over with the existing crew?” Natalya asked.

  “Most of them took it with good grace. A couple of the hotheads thought they’d been overlooked for promotions or some such. Whining about lost overtime.” Sandra shrugged. “Change is hard for some people.”

  “Most people, actually,” Zoya said.

  “True,” Sandra said. “If there’s nothing else? I’ll let you get on with your day. Thanks for stopping in.” With a little wave, she went back through the doors to the kitchen.

  “Two stanyers?” Natalya asked.

  “That’s not a long time for a new ship design.” Zoya took a bit of the cobbler and smiled. “This is really good.”

  “I wonder where they spent the credits,” Natalya said, savoring the nutty, sweet flavor of her dessert.

  “The ones they were supposed to spend on a new design?” Zoya asked.

  “Yeah. Other than the fancy shell and slightly smaller footprint, that’s a Scout.”

  “That’s also not the design Dorion showed us,” Zoya said. “The galley. The engine room. All that changed in a month when they’ve been working on this for two stanyers?”

  “Where does our old friend Tony fit in this picture?” Natalya asked.

  “How does a structural engineer get put in charge of a ship design?” Zoya asked back.

  “Back to basics,” Natalya said. “Who’s setting this up to fail? And why?”

  “Can we trust Pittman?” Zoya asked, scraping the last of the cobbler off her plate with the side of her fork.

  Natalya sighed. “I don’t know.”

  Sandra strolled in from the kitchen. “Can I get you anything else?”

  Zoya placed her cutlery and napkin on the used plate and pushed it back from the edge of the table.

  “I don’t think so,” Natalya said.

  Sandra held out the tab. Natalya thumbed it.

  “You know any of the engineers?” Zoya asked.

  Sandra looked up. “What? Personally?”

  “Yeah. Any of the designers who started in the beginning?”

  Sandra pursed her lips and shook her head slowly. “Not offhand. Most of them left when production started ramping up.”

  “Where’d they go?” Natalya asked.

  Sandra shrugged. “It’s how it’s always been. Arrive without notice. Leave the same way.”

  “So? Like us?” Zoya asked with a grin.

  Sandra smiled. “Well, I hope you’re not going to disappear any time soon. About time that project got some brains.” Her eyes opened wide for a moment as if she’d just realized what she’d said. “Anyway. Thanks for coming in.” She turned and scurried back into the kitchen.

  Zoya raised both eyebrows. “We’re the brains?”

  “I’m good,” Natalya said. “I don’t think I’m that good.”

  “How do we unravel this one?” Zoya asked, sliding out of the booth.

  “Maybe we need to visit Ms. Pittman.”

  Zoya frowned and shrugged. “You think she knows she’s being set up?”

  “To take the fall?” Natalya asked. “Might be a good thing to ask her.”

  “Are we?” Zoya asked, pushing through the door and out into the passageway beyond. “Being set up?”

  “Most assuredly.” Natalya shrugged. “I just don’t know what we’re being set up for.”

  “First principles,” Zoya said.

  “Feed the crew?”

  “Follow the money,” Zoya said. “Who benefits if this project fails?”

  “All those ships with courier contracts now,” Natalya said. “They get to keep them. Dorion didn’t say as much, but I’d bet my mattress that they’re planning on phasing all those contracts out once the new couriers come online.”

  “That’s my thought, too, but how does that help us?”

  “Somebody in the company who could orchestrate this but doesn’t have the pull to quash it outright,” Natalya said. “They’re making a big investment in infrastructure over at Bowie. That’s going to be next to useless without these ships and pilots.”

  They sauntered back along the docks toward the small-ship locks without seeing another person.

  “It’s almost spooky,” Natalya said. “Nobody moving on the docks.”

  Zoya shrugged. “Not a lot of ship traffic so no people. My question is about the engineers.”

  “The ones who left?” Natalya asked. “That’s decidedly odd.”

  “Since when do you release the designers while the ship is still in development?”

  Natalya shrugged. “I wonder if we can get a meeting with Pittman.”

  “Should be easy enough,” Zoya said, stopping beside their dock.

  “You think?”

  “The last few times, we only needed to make some noise inside the new ship and she came to us.” Zoya shrugged. “Seems like it might work again.”

  Natalya grinned. “We should probably get her in the loop on this piece of sabotage to her ship sooner rather than later.”

  “That’s my thinking, too,” Zoya said. She keyed the lock on the new ship and strode up the ramp.

  Chapter 19

  Pulasky Yard

  2366, May 10

  ALISON PITTMAN MIGHT have made a good poker player. Her face gave nothing away as she peered into the data cabinet. “What am I looking at?” she asked.

  Natalya reached in with her small screwdriver and pointed to the piece of scrap lying on top of the card socket. “That’s shorting out and making the long-range scanner overheat.”

  Pittman’s hand moved toward it, but stopped. “It’s still in there for a reason?” she asked, turning to look at Nataly
a.

  Natalya nodded. “We haven’t decided the best way to deal with it yet.”

  Only a single raised eyebrow disturbed Pittman’s bland expression.

  “Take a walk with us?” Natalya asked, nodding toward the lock.

  Pittman looked back and forth between them for a moment and nodded. “Of course.”

  Zoya led the way off the ship and out into the docking gallery. “Fancy a cup of coffee, Ms. Pittman?”

  Pittman stopped and folded her arms. “I’d fancy an explanation.”

  “Sabotage,” Natalya said.

  “A piece of crap in the data closet and you’re leaping to sabotage?” Pittman asked.

  “Here’s the thing,” Natalya said. “That piece of crap isn’t just any loose piece of crap. It didn’t fall in there by mistake.”

  “How can you be sure?” Pittman asked.

  “It’s conductive,” Zoya said. “Most loose litter isn’t even metallic, let alone conductive. It’s placed precisely so that the short causes the devices to overheat until they get so hot they melt. All without actually impairing their functionality until they fail. That’s stupidly difficult to do on purpose. I’ve a hard time believing it’s an accident.”

  “But it’s possible,” Pittman said.

  Zoya shrugged. “I’d say it was possible except for one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “We had to take the rack apart to get to it. The piece of crap is too big to have fallen in between the rack units on its own. It had to have fallen in there when the rack was assembled originally.” Zoya shrugged again. “Or been placed there after the rack was installed on the ship.”

  “Why?” Pittman asked. “Why there? Long-range scanners? Displays? Doesn’t seem like it would be a fatal problem.”

  “Without the display subsystems, you can’t navigate. You can’t run the engines. You can’t even communicate,” Natalya said. “Long-range doesn’t usually get used while docked. Whoever did it probably didn’t think we’d test it before getting underway.”

  “Or didn’t think we’d notice the problem until we needed both those systems at once,” Zoya said.

  “What was your test pilot planning to do before he quit?” Natalya asked.

  “Labark had a checklist,” Pittman said. “First Flight Protocol. I gave it to you.”

  “So he’d have just taken the ship out and run that list?” Natalya asked.

  Pittman nodded. “I presume so. You’d have to take it up with engineering. They’re the ones who drive that process.”

  “So, Downs?” Natalya asked.

  “Of course,” Pittman said.

  “Who hates you enough to want this project to fail?” Natalya asked.

  Pittman’s facade barely quivered. “Pardon me?”

  “Why are you here, Ms. Pittman?” Natalya asked.

  “It’s my project,” Pittman said, her voice like cracked ice. “Where would I be?”

  Zoya held up a hand. “Yes, sorry. Wrong question, Ms. Pittman.” She shot a quelling look at Natalya. “We’ve just noticed some ... irregularities.”

  Pittman refolded her arms. “Irregularities, Ms. Usoko?”

  “The project has been here in design for a couple of stanyers?” Zoya asked.

  Pittman nodded. “About that. I think the first teams convened in August or September of 2364. I fail to see the bearing.”

  “You weren’t part of that group?” Natalya asked.

  “No, I was brought in about five months ago. The early construction phase was a mess and they needed a strong administrator to sort it out. They tapped me,” she said, lifting her chin just a fraction.

  “Why did the engineers leave?” Zoya asked.

  “Leave?” Pittman asked. “Why would they leave?”

  “Where are they?” Zoya asked. “Those members of the first teams?”

  Pittman blinked, opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it again.

  “They were already gone when you arrived, weren’t they, Ms. Pittman?” Zoya asked.

  Pittman shook her head slowly. “No engineers have left the project since I’ve been here. The only person who left was the test pilot, Labark.”

  “Do you know who they were?” Natalya asked.

  “I’m sure I have a roster in the files,” Pittman said. Her professional mask reasserted itself and her expression went blank. “What has that got to do with my involvement and this project failing?”

  Natalya glanced up and down the dock. “We could take this someplace more private, if you prefer.”

  “I’m happy right here,” Pittman said. She closed her mouth around whatever else she might have been going to say but her jaw worked as if she were chewing the words back.

  “What do you know about ship design and manufacture?” Zoya asked.

  “I have people for that,” she said. “My job is to keep to the plan. Make sure the production goals get met.”

  Zoya nodded. “I’m sure you’re very good at it, but how do you know when they’re lying to you?”

  “Who?” Pittman asked.

  “Those people you have who understand ship design and manufacture,” Zoya said.

  Pittman paused, her brows wriggling together for a moment before her forehead cleared. “Numbers don’t lie.”

  “How many of those couches have you bought?” Natalya asked.

  “Only twelve,” Pittman said. “I just reviewed the records. They’ve all been returned and we’ve been reimbursed.”

  “Why twelve?” Natalya asked.

  “Enough for the first flight and a couple spares,” Pittman said. “What’s your point?”

  “Who runs your inventory?” Natalya asked.

  “We have a whole logistics team,” Pittman said. “They’re responsible for purchase and inventory of all the materials used on station.”

  “Yes, but who runs the inventory for the couches?” Natalya asked. “How do you know the numbers match the parts?”

  “There are checks,” Pittman said, biting off each word. “We’re not so cavalier about this as you may think, Ms. Regyri. I still fail to see where you’re going with this and I don’t take kindly to being accused of incompetence.”

  Natalya held up her hands palm out. “I’m not accusing you of incompetence, Ms. Pittman. I’m suggesting that somebody—maybe some group of people—is purposefully setting up this project to fail and for you to take the fall.”

  Pittman’s face flushed and she pressed her lips together in a line so tightly they turned white around the edges. “And you’ve come to this conclusion on the basis of a piece of litter stuck in an electronics rack on a ship that’s only just come out of assembly?” The words ground out of her through her clenched jaw. “I think it’s time for you both to get into your antique and get off my station.”

  Zoya shrugged and nodded to Natalya. “Sounds like a good idea to me.”

  “Good luck, Ms. Pittman,” Natalya said and walked away down the docks toward the Peregrine’s lock with Zoya beside her.

  Chapter 20

  Pulaski Yards

  2366, May 10

  NATALYA SEALED Peregrine’s lock behind them and made her way to the galley. “I need coffee.”

  “Shall we leave immediately?” Zoya asked.

  “I’m about done with this project. Is there any reason to stay? She did order us off.”

  “What’ll we tell Dorion?”

  Natalya finished loading up the brewing station and punched the button. “The truth. Those boats aren’t safe to fly, let alone secure enough for their needs. Somebody’s setting her up to fail.”

  “Why the sabotage?” Zoya asked, pulling mugs out of the rack.

  Natalya slumped against the bulkhead, letting the soothing aroma of fresh coffee waft over her. “Good question. If I wanted the project to fail, I’d sabotage the production run, not the prototypes.”

  Zoya frowned. “Maybe. Maybe not. I supposed it would depend on your goal.”

  “Like what?�
�

  “What if you only wanted to discredit Pittman?” Zoya spoke slowly as if refining the idea with each new word. “What if you wanted to take over the project yourself?”

  Natalya weighed the idea in her head. “Maybe. Would that explain why she was given the program just a few months ago?”

  “Could,” Zoya said, grabbing the pot and filling their mugs. “The timing might be significant.”

  “How so?”

  “Well,” Zoya said, pausing to sip before speaking. “The design engineers worked for what? About a stanyer?”

  Natalya nodded. “That’s what Sandra said.”

  “So they worked up a design, got it ready for early prototyping and left.”

  “That part is dumb.”

  “Agreed,” Zoya said. “But it might support the notion that somebody behind the scenes is operating to either control it or scotch it completely.”

  “Why ship the engineers out?”

  “Maybe to replace them with people you control?” Zoya said, her eyes focused someplace in the distance. “Maybe to change the design without opposition.” She looked at Natalya. “Kinda makes me want to see the history of the design revisions.”

  “We’re not exactly in the pool on that one anymore,” Natalya said, letting the aromatic steam wreathe her nose.

  “Might be something to take up with Dorion.”

  Natalya nodded. “Still. This whole project reeks.”

  “It sounded good,” Zoya said. “It still might be the only way to solve their data collection and dissemination problem.”

  Natalya stiffened. “That’s the problem.”

  “What? That it’s the only solution?”

  Natalya shook her head. “No. That it’s not.”

  Zoya cocked her head to one side. “You lost me.”

  “What if it’s not the only solution? What if it’s not even the best solution?”

  “Why would they adopt it if there was a better one?” Zoya asked.

  “That’s the question. If we find the answer to that, we’ll find out why this project is a mess and why Pittman got set up to hold the bag.”

  “I’ll grant you that, but do you have a better solution?”

  Natalya sipped her coffee for a moment. “I’ve got some pieces. I don’t really know enough about what goes on behind the curtain.”