Suicide Run

by TS Hottle

  Suicide permitted herself a smile. He'd remembered to use the alias she sent him. "Mank."

  "Pri." He came over to her and wrapped her in a tight embrace. "Crash anymore transports lately?"

  "One," she said. "My protégé hasn't forgiven me since it was his."

  "Was that the unpleasantness I've been hearing about lately?" He flashed a mouthful of teeth, some of which he was born with. Two of the incisors were gold, which explained his call sign back in the day, Gold Digger. "Nasty folk behind that." He leaned in. "If they're who I think they are, they're here."

  She reached into her pocket and produced the fragment of the Realm weapon she'd found. "The first one came from our own Navy."

  Mank clucked as he studied that. "Al, send over a bottle of Cabo. My friend Pri and I are going to have a private chat."

  Al looked up at the ceiling as though someone were looking in on the bar. "Good place for it. No one comes to this Mother-forsaken dust ball, anyway." He handed Mank a bottle of Cabo Wabo tequila and two glasses. "One of the last Earth-distilled bottles, so drink responsibly. It's all Bonapartan swill from here out."

  I am really going to have to sleep this off soon, she thought. At least this tequila was the good stuff.

  Mank motioned her to a booth near the back wall and made sure they were positioned to see the door. He poured three fingers in each of the glasses. Raising his glass, he clinked it to Suicide. "Well, here's to a glorious death."

  "Amen, brother." She took a sip. "Amber. Didn't know they still made that."

  "They don't," said Mank. "No one's ever explained why. Some Bonapartan bullshit about how the planet's still being terraformed or something." He hid his frown with a sip. "So, Yun, what have you gotten mixed up in, anyway? Heard you flew in on a Zaran tub with some little rich kid at your side. You collecting boy toys now?"

  "You know me better than that." She looked around to make sure only Al was in the bar. "The kid is Tessa Dasarius's oldest son. Ran away to Amargosa a couple years ago, got stranded during the invasion, and now he doesn't care if he ever goes home again. Can't say I blame him."

  "Is he a diva like most royals and aristocrats' kids?"

  "Not anymore. Having your wife of twenty-five hours incinerated alive in front of you tends to be a humbling experience." She turned the fragment over in her fingers. "This Juno. There was a JunoCorp my friend says his mother's company owned for a time, apparently under the radar of management."

  "Sounds like them," said Mank. "Might surprise you they were present on Aphrodite when we were there, and Dasarius Interstellar was a target." He looked down for a moment, as though studying his drink, then looked up. "Might surprise you more to learn they were likely responsible for Priya's death."

  She didn't know if she reacted or not, but the revelation made her heart skip a beat. It felt like a gunshot to the chest. "I thought it was Penqu separatists."

  "Oh, make no mistake. The Penqu set off that blast. And I'm sure whoever did it thought he or she was striking a blow for freedom, just like every Penqu and Kolkat terrorist on that planet." He leaned forward. "But Juno's there whispering into the ears of various factions, setting one against the other, and occasionally, both against the Compact."

  "Priya was a Kolkat."

  "And an innocent victim. So are a lot of Penqu who get killed on that water-logged mud ball." He held up his glass. "To Priya and Mulan, still alive in our hearts and hanging around our necks."

  As he drank, Suicide noticed the bullet hanging from a chain around his neck. Only then did she realize that Mulan, Mank's Penqu wife, had also died. "You never told me."

  "I assumed you'd hold Priya's death against her." He turned his glass as he stared into the amber.

  Suicide reached out and patted his hand. "Mulan wasn't a Penqu. She was your wife. Everything else was violent bullshit."

  "Well, one thing I came to understand is that the violent bullshit won't end until outsiders stop exploiting the conflict for their own ends."

  "You think Dasarius did that?"

  Mank shook his head. "Have you met Germanicus? The number two guy at Dasarius?"

  "A few times, mostly when I was on Hanar."

  "That man is carrying an enormous amount of guilt for something terrible. When he says he wants to help, I believe him. No, I'm saying Juno is one of the bad actors, the latest. As long as they can stir the pot on Aphrodite, Dasarius can't create the jobs and infrastructure they need to move the population past the ethnic rivalries. Meanwhile, people like our wives get blown to bits 'for the cause.'" This last he said dramatically but with a nasally sneer. "Sons of bitches." He downed the last of his drink and poured another. It gave Suicide the impression that this was the beginning of the day's drinking for him. "So, Yun, my sister from another mister, what brings you to Marilyn? And why are you interested in Juno? Besides your little friend's likely hatred of them?"

  She fingered her wrist chip. A hologram of Jayne Best rose from her palm. "See this woman?"

  Mank whistled. "The Prophet's Wife herself."

  "First Lady of Amargosa," she said. "And chief administrator of the Thulian Colony there."

  "Where are the kids?"

  "Safe."

  He winked. "I'd expect nothing less of Suicide. You think she's here?"

  She took a slow swallow of her drink and leaned back in her seat, tipping her head back as she let the alcohol's warmth spread through her. "She and Governor Best made an agreement. If someone like Juno came after them, they not only would ship the kids off someplace safe, they also would flee. Each one would not tell the other where. Governor Best has been in the hospital since the assassination attempt. He's probably better guarded than our acting President."

  Mank snorted and drank his tequila in one shot.

  "Jayne, he told me, would likely reconnect with the Marilynist Temple." She grimaced. "Since they still see her as property no matter what high and mighty title they give her."

  "Of course. And you think she's here?"

  "The Temple did move its seat here when the Grand Dimaj became governor."

  Mank laughed. "Brilliant move. The Jefivans get rid of a group of agitators, and that oversexed robed idiot gets to pretend he's God's gift to whatever will sleep with him."

  "You mean Marilyn's gift." They clinked glasses.

  He stood. "Keep a low profile. If Juno knows you're looking, especially with Tessa Dasarius's son in tow, they will not respond nicely. Give me a day. I should have something for you by morning."

  "Thanks, Mank."

  "Hey, anything for an old hand from Aphrodite."

  Suicide heard the voices from outside the hangar. JT argued with someone, but not Boolay. The Zaran occasionally punctuated the quarrel with something in a sarcastic tone. The other voice was female, sharp and authoritative. Had the authorities boarded the ship while she was out?

  Slowly, she reached down and took the KR-7 pistol off her belt. Shifting her posture, she moved up the ramp slowly, keeping her boots from making sound.

  "You can't just tumble out of the hypergate with a fake name," said the woman, her accent familiar. Was that a hint of French? Or Tianese?

  "Who said it was fake?" said JT calmly.

  "It's a Zaran ship with a Gohemese transponder code," said the woman.

  "And a Humanic name," said Boolay. "It's been about two minutes since you pointed that out."

  Boolay, Suicide believed, would get himself shot one of these days, probably along with everyone else around him.

  "Shut up," said the woman. "And with a Humanic name."

  Suicide paused at the top of the ramp. They were not in the hold. The hold tended to muffle voices, so she would not have heard them until she came aboard. She moved forward, her finger now above the trigger, ready to slip inside the guard if need be.

  "And Devold Parker," the woman continued. "What kind of alias is that? Your middle name in the Gelt Mother Tongue and your late wife's maiden name? Really?"

  "'Devold'
is a Gelt name." Did JT just sniff? Disdainfully? You could take the kid out of the aristocracy…

  Suicide found herself in the narrow passage leading to the cockpit. If the woman were hostile, Suicide would have to be fast to fire. She slipped her finger inside the guard.

  "And it sounds French when a Sapiens uses it," JT added.

  "You're sapient?" asked Boolay. Was the Zaran drinking through all this? His words had started to slur.

  "I'm from Bonaparte, Austin. I know French, and nothing about you sounds French."

  "Laisses-tu un inconnu se faufiler sur to?" said JT. Suicide did not understand what he said, but it sounded fluent. Boolay hooted that sound that passed for laughter. It came out a bit loudly. She could now see the woman's back, a black military jacket over a narrow body with long black hair in a braid that could easily be tucked up into a helmet. She turned.

  Suicide's finger came out of the trigger guard. "Yamato?"

  "Suicide?" The Asian woman smiled. "Or should I call you Priya Izumi?"

  "You've been tracking us."

  "As if the future Duchess of Windsor doesn't attract enough attention," JT added.

  "I don't get that," said Boolay. "Duchess? What kind of world is this Bonaparte?"

  "Backward." JT summed up how Suicide felt about Bonaparte's monarchy, which rotated between seven royal houses from Earth. Mitsuko Yamato gave a titter and did not protest.

  "You're engaged," said Suicide. "I thought you made a vow before your uncle that you'd never marry into another royal house."

  Mitsuko shrugged. "Edward is Navy Spec Force. I'm not marrying the future king. I'm marrying a fellow soldier. It's different."

  "It's good to be the king's grandniece," said JT. "Anyway, Mitsuko does not approve of our aliases or the name of our ship."

  Suicide ducked as she stepped through the hatch and settled into the navigator's harness. How, she wondered, did Zarans sit in these things? "So, what are you doing here?"

  Mitsuko rose and took her sword off her belt, laying it against the copilot's console. "The war with the Realm is escalating. Fleet Admiral Bokome and the Marine Commandant want the core worlds to elevate planetary forces to augment those of the Compact. One of my cousins is on Freezone right now training the Chrysanthemum Guard."

  "That would be your uncle's Household Guard?"

  "The same. Edward has asked me to assume command of the Sappers, the Windsor Household Guard."

  "Way to sleep your way into a job, Yamato." JT ducked as Mitsuko playfully hit him.

  "Confidentially, Edward seduced me into taking the job. Well, that and gave a pay hike for the role." She turned and looked out the windows and the open end of the hangar onto the tarmac. In the distance, an OA-22 Falcon, like JT's original Goldeneye, lifted off from its pad. "I'm here teaching those tea-sipping pansy asses how to fight in a desert. With all the creeper vine here, though, it's like teaching them to repel another invasion of Amargosa." She turned around. "Then I get an alert from Quantonesia. You two are AWOL and in a stolen ship."

  "This ship is property of the provisional government of Amargosa," said Boolay. "I should know. I'm the engineer contracted to look after them."

  "Who is this ape man again?"

  Everyone looked at Mitsuko. It surprised Suicide to hear Mitsuko use the term "ape" for a fellow primate.

  "Zaran," JT said. "Boolay is a Zaran."

  Mitsuko's face turned crimson. "Oh, my God, I literally thought you were some sort of genetically modified chimpanzee. I am so sorry. I've never met one of your people before."

  "I called my first Orag a fanzeea," said Boolay. "And promptly repeated the mistake when I met my first Sapiens. So, don't feel bad. Two-armed, two-legged talking mammals are not nearly as bright as they all think they are, my own species included."

  "Anyway," said JT, an edge of annoyance coming into his voice, "this ship belongs to Amargosa, which in turn is 'amicably disputed' by Metis and Hanar. The Compact can go fuck itself."

  "Wow," said Boolay. "Language."

  Suicide gave JT a dirty look while Mitsuko chuckled. She turned her attention to Mitsuko. "Who issued this alert?"

  Mitsuko laughed again, this time humorlessly. "It comes from the office of the President's chief of staff."

  "So, are you going to report us?"

  "I am here as commander of the Sappers. When we are activated for Compact service, then I'll report you. As of this moment, I report to King Yanuhito and his heir, Duke Edward of Windsor. And frankly, neither Uncle Yoshi nor Edward give a damn what Jez Salamacis thinks."

  "So, you'll help us."

  Mitsuko gave a wry smile. "Are you aware that Vice Admiral Burke interprets Salamacis's orders as non-valid?" She clipped her sword to her belt once more. "The chief of staff, constitutionally, is not in her up-line. Therefore, she has no authority over the Navy."

  "Get to the point," said JT.

  "It means, as a Sapper, I can help you. And I have friends who report to Admiral Burke who can help me."

  Suicide yawned. "I've been up twenty hours and have had two rounds of tequila in that time, all in the line of duty. Austin, can you make the arrangements with her to get started?"

  "Whatever you say." JT winked at her. "Priya."

  The morning found Suicide with a mild hangover, one she could easily dismiss with a handful of pills in the ship's galley. More importantly, she could treat it with coffee, something she insisted on stocking before the ship left Marilyn. Unfortunately, the Goldeneye had one of those capsule makers. Yes, one could make twenty cups of coffee out of a capsule the size of the end of one's thumb, but it tasted like shit.

  She would have to make do. At least the cupboards had a Navy mug, not unlike her favorite one at home. She decided she would swipe this one when the ship returned to Amargosa. Least the provisional government could do after someone destroyed her home. Sleepy-eyed, she popped a capsule of dark roast into the maker and waited. As the cup filled and the aroma reached her nose, she heard the noise.

  The clanging sound came from below, near the engine compartment. Had Boolay dropped a tool? Yet what she'd seen of the man's work suggested he could stand on one foot while using the other as a third hand without missing a beat.

  JT wandered into the galley, yawning. He waved, his hair messy and sleep clogging his eyes.

  "What's going on back there?" asked Suicide without preamble.

  JT yawned again. "Someone's helping Boolay munge our drive signature."

  "Is that a technical term?"

  He nodded and shoved a disturbingly girlie-looking mug into the maker.

  Cradling her own mug, Suicide made her way aft to investigate the commotion. In the Goldeneye's cramped engine compartment, she spotted a pair of legs in Navy coveralls poking out from underneath the EM drive housing. Or whatever Zarans called EM drive. Boolay sat hunched over a circuit panel doing arcane things to the ship's transponder. The ape-like man looked up at her.

  "Good morning, Commander," he said in an unusually cheerful voice. "Welcome aboard the Tachi."

  "Tachi?"

  "It's Japanese," said a male voice belonging to whosever legs protruded from under the engine housing. "I think. Is that Suicide I hear?"

  "Duffy?"

  The legs bent and pulled out a large man, a boy really, with curly hair. He might have been only seventeen, but Suicide knew it was a hard seventeen. "It is you. I wondered why Mitsuko was being so cagey." He sat up and rested his arms on his knees. "She called up to the Valles Marineris and asked Admiral Burke if she had anyone who could help you guys out. Now, here I am."

  "What are you doing to my engines, Duff?"

  "Messing with the drive vents on the EM drive and the orbital thrusters," said Boolay. "Making us look like a ship that does not exist."

  "I thought you were on the Challenger," said Suicide. "Learning the mysteries of warp drive."

  Duffy climbed to his feet and brushed his hands down the front of his coveralls. "Actually, I was at MIT in the
Warp Research Project. The Navy wants me to put in some hours on a real starship, so I'm slumming it on the Marineris."

  "That ship is Admiral Burke's personal flagship. I hope she hasn't heard you call it 'slumming.'"

  Duffy shrugged. "She'll get over it. Challenger's her pet project, so I'm allowed to call another ship slumming."

  "But the Marineris?" Suicide shook her head. "As long as Austin doesn't hear you say that."

  "I did." Everyone looked up to see JT, still looking sleepy despite a large pink mug of coffee steaming in his hand. "And what the hell happened to my Shandug United mug?" he added.

  "Hate to break it to you, kid," said Suicide, "but that probably got shattered when the original Goldeneye went down."

  "This place is a dump."

  "That was on Amargosa."

  "Marilyn is still a dump."

  She turned back to Duffy. "So, are you with us? Or is Admiral Burke letting you play hooky this morning."

  "The latter." Duffy pointed the spanner in his hand at JT. "This one's dad is pulling another Zephyr-class ship out of active duty for conversion. MIT is sending me there and calling it an internship."

  Her palm tingled. She recognized the comm code. "Cui Yun. Go."

  The image of Mank Sarpong, looking even more bleary-eyed than JT, appeared on her palm. "You alone?"

  "I'm with my crew and a Navy guy I trust. Why?"

  "Meet me for breakfast at the Sky Galley, near the Temple. Bring your friend." The image vanished.

  Suicide turned back to JT. "We're going to breakfast. Give these two some breathing room."

  JT sipped his coffee. "Careful, Boolay. This one here likes to blow things up."

  Boolay made that hooting noise Zarans made when they laughed. "Sounds like my kind of monkey."

  "Who's he calling a monkey?" said Duffy.

  "Well, Duff," said JT, "we've been meaning to tell you, but you've been on Earth for a while…"

  The Sky Galley turned out to be yet another bar, despite the menus and the grill. Suicide flinched at the prices. She had to remember Marilyn was not only a new colony, but its parent world was Jefivah. They couldn't import food from home. They had to import it from other colonies and core worlds until their agriculture became self-sustaining.