Suicide Run

by Nathan Lowell

  Dorion gave a bit of a shrug before joining the toast along with Zoya and Natalya. “It may not be done yet,” he said. “But I have a feeling that we’re a lot closer today than we were yesterday.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” Allen said and tinged his glass again.

  Chapter 47

  Pulaski Yard

  2366, June 3

  NATALYA NEVER LIKED being a passenger, but she had to admit the High Tortuga Holding Company directors traveled in style. The utilitarian interior felt more like a work of art—or perhaps architecture—than the inside of a shuttle. Every surface carried a polish or a texture. The sumptuous seating looked as comfortable as it felt, padded perfectly and upholstered in a creamy fabric Natalya couldn’t identify. The whole experience made her consider washing her hands before she touched anything—or perhaps taking off her shoes before taking another step into the craft. Joe Allen and Brian Dorion flew with them, leaving Caldicott to monitor the data feeds and keep an eye out for Vagrant to surface.

  Ernst Panko met them with a broad grin when they stepped out of the shuttle. “Nice boat,” he said, casting an appreciative glance down the length of the vessel.

  “You have no idea,” Zoya said, stepping down the short ladder to the deck.

  “You’re welcome to come aboard for a tour,” Allen said. “I hear you have an eye for ships.”

  “Thanks, Joe. Perhaps before you head back. We’ve got some business to take care of first.”

  Allen nodded. “Can we see the new ship designs?”

  “Better than that,” Panko said. “We’ve got a tour laid on for the ways. You can see the ship itself.”

  Natalya perked up at that. “You’ve got one ready?”

  Panko shrugged and made a small grimace. “Well. Not ready-ready. It’s not spaceworthy yet, but the spaceframe is complete. We’re still installing astronautics and making sure the pipes are all connected, and there’s no finish work done on the inside yet.”

  “But it’s a ship?” Zoya asked.

  He grinned and nodded. “It’s a ship.”

  Allen cleared his throat. “About those other little things?” He raised his eyebrows with the question.

  “We’ve got the entrances and exits covered. Judging from the way they tossed my ship, nobody’s found them yet.”

  “But you know where they are,” Allen said.

  “I know where they’re supposed to be. I haven’t wanted to disturb the scene until you got here.” Panko winked at Natalya.

  Alison Pittman joined them on the shuttle dock, trailed by an armed security detail. “Mr. Allen. Brian. Sorry I’m late.”

  Allen stuck out a hand. “Call me Joe, Alison. We’ve got a lot of work to do together and I don’t really like standing on ceremony.”

  She deep breath before grasping his hand. “Thank you. Joe. I’m not sure about how much work we’ll be doing together going forward but ... well ... thanks.”

  Dorion stepped forward and offered a hand, too. “What’s that all about?”

  Alison took a moment to look around the shuttle bay. “We need to have a talk about the yard. Later.” She cast her gaze around again.

  Allen nodded. “Message received. So, show me your baby?”

  Alison smiled and pointed to Panko. “His baby. I think she’s beautiful, but you can make up your own minds.”

  “Right this way,” Panko said. As he started toward the bay doors, he looked at Natalya and Zoya. “You two coming?”

  Zoya grinned and fell in line, but Natalya held back. “Nats?” Zoya asked, looking back at her.

  “I need to check on my own baby. I haven’t seen her for a few days.”

  Ernst’s grin grew wider. “I’ll give you a private tour later, if you want. You’ll need to see it before you agree to be the test pilot, after all.”

  “Thanks, Ernst.” She held out a hand to Allen. “Thank you, Mr. Allen. I hope we’ve helped.”

  Allen shook her hand. “You’re not done yet, but thank you. There are still a few loose ends to tie off but you and Zoya have both helped immensely.”

  Panko led his troop out of the shuttle bay and down the passage toward the main yards, leaving Natalya to shoulder her bundle of new clothing and make her way in the opposite direction.

  The shuttle bay wasn’t far from where the Peregrine waited, but the walk felt longer. She kept thinking about the Peregrine and what she should do with her. The thought that she might do anything with her made tendrils of disloyalty curl in her guts even as the reality of trying to keep her flying loomed as large as a gas giant’s exosphere. Couriers flourished in the High Line, but fast packets ruled the Toe-Holds. Without credentials to her name, the High Line might as well have been the Core Worlds for all the good it did her.

  She made the turn into the Peregrine’s docking bay and trudged up to the lock, keying the code without conscious thought and stepping into the tiny airlock. She found the inner door closed. It didn’t open before the outer door started to cycle shut. The malfunction made her sigh. “Don’t tell me you’re coming down with airlock problems, too,” she said. “I didn’t think that would be contagious.”

  Well, she’d fixed it before. She could fix it again.

  The inner door opened and a ham-sized fist reached through to grab her by the collar of her shipsuit and drag her into the ship, slamming her skull against the far bulkhead.

  THE SMELL WOKE HER. Scrubbers. The stink clawed at her nose and she tried to lift a hand to her face but her arm wouldn’t move. Neither would her feet. She managed to get her eyes open but everything was blurry. It looked like the Peregrine. Her stateroom. Her head screamed at her, feeling split down the middle. Then she sort of remembered. Something had happened.

  “So? Awake, are ya, missy?”

  It hurt to turn her head so she just slid her eyes to the side to see who spoke. She knew that voice.

  “Where are they?”

  “Gone to see the new ship,” she said.

  “Not them, you stupid bint. The chips.”

  He swam into focus then, just inches from her face. His breath hot on her skin and she couldn’t pull back. “Downs.”

  “So, you remember enough to recognize me. Now just remember where you stashed my chips and everything will be right.”

  “On the ship.”

  “Which ship?” Downs asked.

  “The new ship. The one you hid them on. Echo One.”

  “We’ve tossed that ship three times. They’re not there.” He sat back on his haunches to peer at her. “Not on Pansy-boy’s ship either. So where are they?”

  “We hid them.”

  “Where?”

  Natalya struggled against the pain in her skull and the blurred vision to try to see him clearly. “I’ll have to show you. Can’t explain it.”

  “Handy,” he said. “I’m not buying it.”

  “Under the Burleson drive. You know how to lift it?”

  “What do you take me for, girl?” Downs leaned in, his breath stinking in her nose like a bad set of scrubber cartridges.

  “Somebody with bad oral hygiene,” she said. The longer she kept him talking, the more the fog cleared. She needed to get untied.

  “Don’t get smart with me. How do you lift it?”

  “Bottom edge of the front cowling cover. There are two latches. Unclip them and lift it up. There’s a hinge on the back with a counter weight.”

  Downs sat back again and scowled at her. “Don’t lie to me. I designed that engine room. There’s nothing like that there.”

  Natalya sighed and let her head hang forward. Damn, that hurt but closing her eyes helped a bit. “I can’t help it if you can’t find it. Take me to it and I’ll show you. Or go look yourself. I don’t care which.”

  Another voice. “Tony, we’re running out of time. If we don’t get the chips and get off this station—like right damn now—the boffins will be back from the ways and we’ll be up to our asses in security.”

  Tony glanced up an
d behind Natalya. He scrubbed a hand across his mouth and scowled. “Right,” he said, almost under his breath. “You. No tricks. There’s two of us and one of you. Any silliness on your part could be fatal. Understand?”

  “Hey, I just want you to get your damn chips and get out of my face. No skin off my back if you rip off the company. They aren’t paying me to be a martyr.”

  He grinned but it wasn’t an expression of humor. “Keep seeing the light, missy, and we’ll all leave here in one piece.” He reached down and pulled a knot loose around her left foot and repeated it on the right before grabbing her arm and hefting her to her feet. For a few heartbeats she wasn’t sure her legs would hold her, but they stiffened and she kept them under her. “Hand me that jacket,” Downs said.

  The other voice—another man, slender with a bald spot at the crown of his head, wearing an overly ripe shipsuit—reached into her view, dragging her jacket off the bunk. He handed it to Downs.

  Downs draped it over her shoulders, arranging the folds so it covered her bound hands. “Here’s how it’s going to go,” he said. “We’re going out the lock, leaving the bay, and turning to port. That ship is all by its lonesome three bays down. They’re not even guarding it. There’ll be people in the passageway. You say nothing. You do nothing. You just walk along. You do anything else, your lovely little bed-buddy will die.”

  “Zoya?”

  “Zoya. The snooty Fleet bitch. We’ve got her stashed. You can’t get to her before we can kill her, so just be a good little girl and do what you’re told.”

  “Why didn’t you ask her?” Natalya asked.

  “She’s insurance,” Downs said. “You don’t deliver, we’ll use her as backup.”

  Natalya nodded. “All right. Let’s get this over with.”

  The other guy led the way, opening the lock and checking the bay before stepping out of the ship. They made a tidy little procession out of the docking bay and into the wide passage beyond. Natalya couldn’t be sure, but the place seemed deserted.

  “Everybody’s out gawking at the big shots down in the ways,” the skinny man said, a smirk in his voice.

  “Shut up, Vince. Just make sure nobody gets too close.” Downs didn’t seem too pleased with Vince, just judging from his tone.

  The longer they walked, the more Natalya recovered. Her head still killed her with every step, but her vision cleared a little. If the ringing in her ears would let up, the pain would probably be bearable.

  They passed the next docking bay without incident and continued along the passage.

  “Not too much farther,” Downs said, giving her arm a little shake. “Just keep going, nice and steady.”

  Vince was the problem. Natalya knew that Downs would go down fast once she moved. He gripped her too tightly and his reflexes wouldn’t react in the time he’d have. Vince was too far away and she couldn’t get them both fast enough.

  The distraction she prayed for stepped out of the next docking bay and turned in their direction. Call-me-Charlie, in the flesh.

  “Downs?” he said. “What are you doing on-station, man?”

  “Vince,” Downs said, his voice a growl. “Shut him up.”

  Vince had a needler in his hand in a split second, but it was a split second too long. Charlie was no chump and he took Vince head-on. Natalya lost track of him after that by falling sideways and pulling Downs with her. Before he could react she kneed him in the solar plexus to push him away far enough to get one awkward scissor kick to his jaw. He collapsed like a chunk of dead meat, his head rebounding once off the skid coat on the decking. She tossed herself to her feet and bolted, leaving Vince and Charlie scrabbling on the deck. Neither seemed to have control of the needler and she saw no percentage in waiting until one of them won.

  Each step pounded into her head and running with her hands tied behind her made every step precarious. The damned ringing in her ears meant she wouldn’t hear the zing of a needler if somebody fired, which helped her keep her focus on getting the hell out of there.

  The end of the passage T came up fast and she had to make a decision. Left into the yards? It was a long twenty meters with no cover. Right into the station? Would Charlie or Vince follow? Could she hide? Maybe make it to Rudy’s?

  The decision got made for her when she lost her balance and slammed to the deck on her side. She did her best to keep her battered skull from hitting the deck again, rolling to absorb some of the shock. She came to rest by rolling into a sturdy pair of legs. She managed to get her eyes under control enough to look up at Joe Allen looking down at her.

  “I found Downs,” she said.

  “Did you, now?” Allen asked.

  “He was out cold down by the Echo One dock, last I saw him. Charlie’s still here.”

  Allen looked up and Natalya curled into a ball on the deck trying not to puke on his shoes. “Alison?”

  “Got it,” Pittman answered.

  “Zoya?” Natalya asked.

  Zoya leaned around Allen and looked at Natalya. “Yeah?”

  The deck vibrated from the thud of running feet in heavy boots and Natalya let that vibration carry her down.

  Chapter 48

  Pulaski Yard

  2366, June 4

  WAKING UP IN THE AUTO-doc is never fun. Still, Natalya preferred it to waking up to bad breath and the headache from hell. Her mood was probably chemically induced but she considered that to be an advantage. She mused on that for a few moments before she heard the two latches release. The lid opened up and a friendly face peered in.

  “What are you doing awake?” the face asked.

  “I don’t know,” Natalya said. “I’m not completely sure why I’m in here.”

  “You remember anything?”

  “Yes. Probably concussion from having my head slammed into a bulkhead.”

  The friendly face smiled wider. “Very good guess. You had a little tussle after that and then went jogging.”

  Natalya stretched her face, trying to get her eyes to open properly. “Tell me I didn’t puke on Joe Allen’s shoes.”

  “You didn’t puke on my shoes.” A new face peered in behind the med-tech’s. “Hi, there.”

  “Mr. Allen.”

  “It’s Joe to you,” he said. He tapped the tech on the shoulder. “Should she be awake and talking?”

  The tech who seemed to be full of smiles shook her head without look away from Natalya. “Not really. She came up spontaneously and I wanted to check cognitive function before I sent her back down.”

  “Wait,” Natalya said.

  “Nighty night,” the tech said.

  Natalya heard the first latch but not the second.

  NATALYA OPENED HER eyes to the subdued lighting of night watch. The ceiling above her gave few clues but it wasn’t the one in her stateroom on the Peregrine.

  “Welcome back,” Zoya said, her voice creaky.

  Natalya turned her head toward the voice and saw Zoya struggling up out of an easy chair beside the bed, her hair tousled like she’d just awakened. “Thanks, I think.”

  “Doc says you’re going to be fine,” Zoya said.

  “Hard head.”

  Zoya chuckled and nodded.

  “How long?” Natalya asked.

  “We docked yesterday,” Zoya said but paused. “No, that can’t be right. Day before that.”

  “So a couple of days.”

  “Yeah. They’ve all kinda blended together.”

  “Allen get his chips?” Natalya asked.

  “Yup. And Downs. And Call-me-Charlie.” Zoya’s grin looked positively feral. “He’s probably going to wish Vagrant got to him before Allen’s done.”

  “He’ll spill it.”

  “Oh, he’s already spilling. They’ve got him for Carver’s murder. The only thing keeping him out of the cold is how long he can keep talking about Vagrant and his dealings.”

  “Downs?”

  “They’ll find something for him to do for the rest of his life, I suspect.” Zoya gave a
little shrug. “Stealing fifteen million credits from your employer is one hell of a black mark on your personnel file.”

  “That how much it was?”

  “Fourteen and change. Dorion’s making the case that his penance should be telling them how he did it for decades without anybody catching on.”

  “I bet he won’t last the week,” Natalya said, letting her head relax back onto the pillow.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “You don’t think he did that by himself, do you?”

  Zoya tilted her head to one side. “Meaning somebody higher on the food chain?”

  Natalya gave a little shrug. “He didn’t make it to his bolt-hole in time. The knives will be out.”

  “Sleep, Nats.”

  Natalya let her eyes close, surrendering to the chemicals in her blood. “Get back to the ship, Zee. Make sure she’s ready for space.”

  “You gonna make a run for it?” Zee asked, a smile in her voice.

  “Not just yet, but when the time comes ...”

  She felt Zoya pat her on the arm before she fell down the hole again.

  Chapter 49

  CommSta Bowie

  2368, January 21

  NATALYA TOOK ONE LAST pass through the apartment. The empty space echoed with her footsteps. The furniture wasn’t theirs but they’d packed up and hauled out everything that was, not that it had amounted to much. Getting the new ships up and the first of the hubs deployed had taken so much of their time, it hadn’t left a lot of opportunity for acquiring new goods.

  Zoya waited for her at the door, arms crossed and leaning her shoulders against the bulkhead. “We ready?”

  “I think so. I can’t help but think we’ve forgotten something.”

  Zoya straightened up and hefted the last tote off the deck. “We barely lived here for the last six months.”

  Natalya nodded. “True enough.”

  The door buzzer rang. Zoya took a step and swung it open. “Good afternoon, Brian.”

  Dorion grinned. “How did you know it was me?”