Suicide Run

by Nathan Lowell

  “Speaking of not telling,” Natalya said. “How’d you get this job?”

  “That’s rude,” Zoya said.

  Natalya bit her lips together. “Sorry. It was, rather. Don’t answer unless you want to.”

  Pittman pressed her lips together and leaned forward, resting both forearms on the table. “Oddly enough, I was asked to take it.”

  “Your boss?” Natalya asked.

  Pittman frowned. “No. He knew I was feeling a bit dead-ended but the request came from a member of the board of directors. I didn’t think he even knew who I was.”

  “But your boss approved it?” Zoya asked.

  “Yes. This project has been plagued with problems—mostly related to personnel—ever since it began two stanyers ago. It was a perennial topic on the board’s agenda.”

  Natalya glanced at Zoya before looking at Pittman again. “Didn’t it strike you as ... well ... odd?”

  “At the time? Not really. I guess they turned my head with compliments. How they needed my strong hand for personnel to get the project back on track and under control.”

  “At the time, you didn’t know they’d released all the original engineers?” Zoya asked.

  “No. I didn’t even think to ask that until you brought it up.” Pittman shrugged. “Now? I’ll confess. I’m feeling completely off the beam on it. Nothing makes sense.”

  “In what way?” Natalya asked. “If you don’t mind telling a pair of contractors.”

  Pittman smiled. “You’ve given me good advice, even when I wasn’t smart enough to take it.” She paused and looked down at the table for a moment. “I’m a lot of things, but I’m not stupid. At the moment, I’m coming to understand that I really don’t know how to do this job. I’m the best human resources administrator in the Western Annex, but I’m in charge of a shipyard engaged in R&D for a new ship design. What I know about ship design is less than what I know about running a shipyard. As an HR guru I should have twigged sooner. We don’t have the right people doing the right jobs. Including mine. My whole career I’ve depended on the management team to tell me what they need. Now I’m in the hot seat and I have no idea what I need.” She looked across the table at Natalya, staring hard before giving Zoya the same treatment. “Call me crazy, but I think you two wild cards might be what I need to turn this into a winning hand.”

  Natalya shared a glance with Zoya before answering. “We think you’ve been set up to fail.”

  “I knew that. Who would do it?” Pittman asked.

  “Whoever would benefit from having you fail here,” Zoya said.

  “When you were working HR, did you ever run across somebody sabotaging their boss, or maybe the team lead on another group?” Natalya asked.

  Pittman snickered. “That’s a way of life out here. Especially in this company.”

  “It’s universal in any organization above a certain size, I think,” Zoya said. “Drove my grandfather crazy.”

  “Who benefits if you fail?” Natalya asked.

  “Tony would have, until this whole episode happened.”

  “But Tony was in place already?” Natalya asked.

  “Yes,” Pittman said, her head nodding slowly. “He might have thought I took his job away. It won’t matter now. By this time tomorrow he’ll be off the station.”

  “He’s still here?” Zoya asked.

  “I can’t toss him off the way I could you,” Pittman said with a shrug. “He’s got too many friends in high places. He’s being transferred back to the main office for rehabilitation.”

  “Meaning he knows where too many bodies are buried?” Natalya said.

  Pittman shrugged again but didn’t answer.

  “How can we help?” Natalya asked.

  Pittman scooted her chair forward and leaned over the table. “I was hoping you’d ask. Normally, I’d just toss this upstairs but I’m just stubborn enough—and pissed enough—to make this work. What’s the highest priority?”

  Natalya started to speak but Zoya placed a hand on her forearm and gave her a subtle shake of the head.

  Pittman looked at Zoya, her eyes wide.

  “What do you think it is?” Zoya asked.

  “Clearly, I don’t know what goes into new ship construction,” Pittman said. “I didn’t even know my own ship had two Burleson drives. If I put on my HR hat, I’d say I was out of my area of expertise and too reliant on my staff to be effective.”

  “So? Putting on your HR hat?” Zoya said. “What would you advise the manager to do?”

  Pittman pursed her lips, staring into the middle distance. “Well, given that I wouldn’t tell a manager to step down, I’d recommend finding somebody with the expertise he needed to be effective.”

  “How would you pick that person?” Zoya asked.

  Pittman grimaced. “I can’t very well advertise for one. Not after trashing Tony Downs.”

  “You didn’t trash Downs,” Natalya said. “You removed a problem employee. One who stole from the company and lined his own pockets. I think he’s a lot deeper in the mess than we know.”

  Zoya nodded. “I agree. So what would you tell this hypothetical manager to do?”

  Pittman smiled at that. “Well, I’ve already taken the first step.” She looked back and forth between Zoya and Natalya. “I’ve brought in outside troubleshooters.”

  Zoya laughed. “All right. What’s next? What would you advise?”

  Pittman’s smile faded as she pondered. “Consult with a trusted colleague,” she said after nearly a whole tick.

  “Do you have any?” Zoya asked.

  “Dorion,” Pittman said. “He’s about my only colleague at the same level. Everybody else is either lower on the food chain or a higher level director.”

  “You and Dorion have independent operations under a board?” Zoya asked.

  “Under the same board, yes,” Pittman said. “Members of the main office board, some industry leaders. The usual suspects.”

  “What expertise do you need?” Zoya asked.

  “You tell me,” Pittman said. “I need an engineer, but there are too many engineering specialties.” She sighed. “Downs shouldn’t ever have been lead on this project. I’m not sure he should have ever been on it at all. I need a ship designer and a shipwright.”

  “This is a shipyard, right?” Natalya asked.

  “Yes,” Pittman said, her eyes narrowing.

  “Who’s the most senior team lead?” Natalya asked. “Somebody who was here before the program started. Is there anybody like that?”

  Pittman tilted her head to one side and squinted her eyes. “I don’t know, but I can find out.” She smiled. “We’ve got a great HR department.”

  Zoya nodded. “She’s right. Find the people who know shipbuilding. They’ll tell you what’s wrong with the ship you’re building.”

  “Can I believe them?” Pittman asked.

  Zoya shrugged. “You know you can’t trust Downs or his buddies. I’d bet they trampled a bunch of people getting into positions of power. I suspect any of those people will be happy to tell you how to fix the problems. They’ll be the ones whose names will be on the ship—even if only figuratively.”

  Pittman smiled and raised her teacup. “To new beginnings,” she said.

  Natalya and Zoya joined in her toast, clinking the cups together.

  Chapter 24

  Pulaski Yards

  2366, May 13

  ZOYA LOOKED AT NATALYA as the door closed behind them. “Anything strike you as odd?”

  Natalya took a few steps down the passageway, Zoya at her side. Natalya glanced back at the closed door. “She’s lonely.”

  “Yeah. Obviously. Anything else?” Zoya asked.

  Natalya frowned at the deck as she strode along. “I don’t know where you’re going with this.”

  “She may be a great administrator but she’s no leader. She needs external direction for even the simplest tasks. I suspect that if you gave her a chart and a destination she’d get ther
e in the least cost, fastest time.”

  Natalya nodded as the idea slotted home in her brain. “But she can’t navigate without the chart.”

  Zoya nodded. “Any idea how this will shake out?”

  “Nope. And she never did say who it was that put her in for the job.”

  “One of the directors,” Zoya said.

  “But which one? We don’t even know how many there are.”

  “Or whether the person who stuck her in this hole was named to the board overseeing this project.”

  Natalya glanced at Zoya. “That’s a scary thought.”

  “There’s a big pile of what-if here.”

  “Like what if the last project director was murdered?” Natalya asked.

  Zoya grunted. “That’s the one that has me most concerned.”

  “If they’re willing to do it once, why not twice?”

  “Or three or four times,” Zoya said.

  They walked in silence until they got to the docking gallery. “You think she can turn this around?” Zoya asked.

  Natalya sighed as she thought about it. “Maybe Dorion can take her under his wing. Help her sort out her leadership.”

  “I don’t understand how she could have been a great administrator without picking up leadership skills. HR isn’t exactly free of the kinds of challenges she’s facing here,” Zoya said.

  Natalya glanced at Zoya and smiled. “There’s a big difference between being a department head and the captain. It’s one thing to have to call the shots. It’s another to have to figure out which shots to call.”

  Zoya nodded. “True.”

  “I still think somebody set her up. I bet she’s a great HR director but she’s floundering because she’s never worked outside that box.”

  Ahead of them, a man in a shipyard coverall stepped out of a docking bay and started toward them. His head came up and he stared at them before turning on his heel and walking away.

  “That was odd,” Zoya said.

  “Wasn’t that the tech who repaired the lock on the new ship? What’s his name?”

  “Carlyle?” Zoya asked. “No, Carroll.”

  “Yeah, Charles—call-me-Charlie—Carroll,” Natalya said.

  They stopped at the docking bay and looked inside.

  “Ship’s still there,” Zoya said. “What do you suppose he was doing?”

  “Maybe just his shift,” Natalya said.

  Zoya snorted. “You don’t believe that any more than I do. Why’d he turn away? Forgot his watch?”

  Natalya rummaged in a pocket and pulled out her fob. “Wanna take a look inside?”

  “Think it still works?” Zoya asked. “They shoulda changed the codes after they kicked us off.”

  “Shoulda and did are miles apart on this job,” Natalya said. “Easy enough to find out.”

  They crossed the dock. The lock opened with a single press of Natalya’s key. “For a big-time operation, these people are pretty sloppy.”

  “When you’re the biggest dog, you tend to forget about the puppies,” Zoya said.

  Natalya raised an eyebrow in her direction. “More wisdom from your granny?”

  Zoya shrugged.

  “What the hell does that mean?” Natalya asked.

  “Big dogs all start out as pups. When you’ve been the only dog that matters long enough, you tend to think the little dogs can’t hurt you. High Tortuga has been the biggest dog for centuries.” Zoya nodded at the open lock. “They’ve forgotten that they’re not the only dog.”

  Natalya felt a chill down her back. “This isn’t about the ship.”

  Zoya shrugged. “That’s a possibility. Somebody wants this project to fail. If they’re on the inside, they probably know more about High Tortuga’s weaknesses than we do.”

  Natalya nodded and led the way into the ship.

  Zoya headed for the cockpit while Natalya cracked the hatch on the tiny engineering space. A quick survey showed nothing changed since the last time she saw it. She dogged the hatch and followed Zoya to the bow.

  “Nothing’s changed in the engine room. Still has just the one Burleson drive.”

  “Not much has changed here,” Zoya said, her mouth twisted in sour expression. “Just one little thing.” She pointed at the exposed card rack.

  “They didn’t put it back together?” Natalya asked, peering into the tangle of cards and wiring.

  “On the surface it doesn’t look like anybody’s been aboard since we left it,” Zoya said.

  “On the surface?” Natalya asked and then stopped, staring at the cards. “It’s gone.”

  “Yeah,” Zoya said. “Somebody knew enough to take away the evidence.”

  Natalya pulled out her tablet and put the image she’d taken on the screen, looking back and forth between the image and the rack. “Not only that. They swapped the cards around.”

  Zoya’s eyebrows shot up and she leaned in to look. “I’ll be damned.” She spent a few minutes looking back and forth between Natalya’s screen and the card rack. “They swapped the long-range with—what is that?”

  “Looks like the electrical systems status board,” Natalya said. “ELSS-32.”

  Zoya pulled out her tablet and accessed the schematics for the rack. “That should be on delta-six.”

  Natalya scanned across the delta segment of the bus cabinet and pointed to the sixth—empty—slot. “Somebody doesn’t want that card found,” she said. She crossed to the couch and fired up the terminal.

  “Will that work with the bus system screwed up?” Zoya asked.

  “Not as a rule,” Natalya said, staring at the screen for a moment and then holding down two keys at the upper corners of the keyboard. “But sometimes you have to have the computer running even if all the peripherals aren’t working correctly.” After a few seconds, the display flipped on. “It isn’t pretty,” Natalya said. “But we can look at the logs.”

  Zoya grinned. “Like the lock access logs?”

  “Just like that.” Natalya typed a few commands and keyed the lock activity log open. She stared at the screen for several long heartbeats.

  A single entry, time stamped 2145, blinked on the screen.

  “Well, crap,” Zoya said, looking over Natalya’s shoulder. “What is it now? 2148?”

  Natalya nodded. “Pittman needs to see this.”

  Zoya placed a hand over her own mouth and nodded at the overhead.

  Natalya nodded. She aimed her tablet at the console, grabbed a digital image, shut the terminal off, then holstered her tablet. Without another word, they left the ship, closing the lock behind them as they left.

  In the docking gallery, Zoya asked, “Where to now? Back to Pittman’s?”

  Natalya stopped walking and frowned. “That was my first inclination, but I’m not sure that’s the right one.”

  “We can’t stand around here all night,” Zoya said with a grin.

  “Back to the Peregrine, then. Spend a little time sorting this out,” Natalya said, turning down the gallery toward their docking bay. She fished her tablet out and started typing on it while they walked. She stabbed the send key and put the tablet away.

  “What was that?” Zoya asked.

  “Note to Pittman. Copy of the digital and a warning.”

  Zoya’s eyebrows shot up. “Warning?”

  “Don’t trust any airlocks.”

  Zoya paused, then nodded. “Good advice.”

  “Advice we should take, too,” Natalya said, stopping at their docking bay.

  The access lock stood open, proving the bay had pressure.

  “What would we have done if it were closed?” Zoya asked.

  Natalya grimaced. “Good question. One we should probably find an answer for before we run into the situation again.”

  Chapter 25

  Pulaski Yards

  2366, May 14

  RUDY’S WAS PACKED AT 0600. Sandra and two assistants kept the coffee flowing and the food coming while Zoya and Natalya held down a small table in the
corner. The smell of fried potatoes and onion mingled with the sharp scent of coffee and the yeasty aroma of fresh bread.

  Sandra stopped by to fill up their coffee cups. “Anything else I can get you?”

  Natalya swallowed a bite of toast. “I’m good.”

  “Nothing for me,” Zoya said.

  “Lucky you got here early. This is our busiest shift.” Sandra surveyed the dining room.

  A trio of men in shipyard coveralls came through the door and stopped just inside, heads turning as they scanned the room.

  “We’re almost done,” Natalya said. “Got the check?”

  Sandra fished a tablet out of the pocket of her apron and placed it on the table for Natalya to thumb. “Thanks,” she said, retrieving the device. “I’ll just tell them it’ll be a moment. You two finish up and have a terrific day.” She slipped between the tables on her way toward the door.

  Natalya popped the last of the toast into her mouth and washed it down with a healthy slug of coffee. “We need to see Pittman.”

  “I want to know what she’s done about Downs,” Zoya said.

  “Not enough if they’re still messing with the ship.”

  “What if he’s not the mastermind behind this whole thing?”

  Natalya winced at that idea. “You done?”

  Zoya took a final drag from her coffee mug and slid the cup back onto the table. “Let’s get some air.”

  After the hubbub inside, the passageway seemed practically silent. Individuals and small clusters of workers wearing Pulaski Yard coveralls streamed toward the docks at the far end.

  “What time’s shift change?” Zoya asked.

  “Probably 0700,” Natalya said. “They’d have to punch in at half past. There’ll be a half-stan to change over the crews.” Her tablet bipped. She pulled it out, checked the message, and nodded to herself. “We’re not the only ones up early. Pittman wants to see us.” She headed down the passage toward the administrative offices.

  “It makes me nervous that Downs is still here,” Zoya said, falling into step.

  “Makes me wonder why they’re still messing around with the new ship.”

  Zoya nodded. “Maybe Downs isn’t the ringleader.”

  “And maybe he’s not really leaving,” Natalya said.