Suicide Run

by Nathan Lowell

  “I suppose it could have been the concierge coming to check us out of the apartment,” Natalya said, smiling at him.

  He stepped into the room and closed the door. “I know I said my good-byes last night but I had to take one more shot. You sure you won’t reconsider? We can always use two good pilots.”

  Zoya looked at Natalya, one eyebrow raised in query.

  She stared at the deck, running the events of the last few months through her mind. The first of those sweet new couriers. The month and a half of moving one of the backup communications spindles. The ongoing path-finding efforts to optimize the routing. She smiled at Dorion. “Thanks, but I can’t. I guess I’ve got itchy feet and we’ve been at this for nearly two stanyers. It’s time for me to move on.” She looked at Zoya. “You don’t have to come along if you don’t want to.”

  Zoya pursed her lips. “As much fun as this has been, I’m ready for something else.”

  “It’s been lucrative,” Dorion said. “You’ve got to admit that.”

  They laughed.

  “I’ll admit it,” Natalya said. “The finders bonus helped.”

  Dorion lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “You guys saved HTHC a lot of credits. Just exposing Downs probably saved us even more. We’re still rolling up some of his confederates.”

  “Any word on Vagrant?” Zoya asked.

  “He’s out in the High Line. We’ve sent a report to TIC through an intermediary but it’s up to them. We can’t do much to him there. ”

  “He’s getting away with murder,” Natalya said.

  “Well, Charlie did the wet work,” Dorion said, looking at the deck and running a hand over the back of his head. “But Vagrant covered his tracks too well. Even with Charlie’s information we don’t have enough to take to TIC.”

  “Any idea what he’s doing out there?” Zoya asked.

  “Caldicott thinks he’s laying low, running his outfitter business.” Dorion sighed. “Not like he’s outfitting anybody but thugs and mercenaries for Iron Mountain.”

  “You could shut them down in a hot tick,” Natalya said.

  “We could—and Joe Allen would be the first to tell you he wants to.”

  “But you can’t,” Zoya said. “Not without jeopardizing the entire Western Annex.”

  He nodded. “We can’t be the cop. Toe-Holds won’t abide that and the High Line can’t. They need us to keep the credits flowing.”

  “Why have they never built around you?” Natalya asked. “They’ve had a long time to implement a replacement.”

  Dorion’s smile stretched one side of his face. “They keep trying. One day they might succeed but most of the early efforts were based on corporate scrip. Credits you could only spend at company stores.”

  “Stores that set the value of the credits by how much you could buy there?” Zoya asked.

  Dorion nodded. “That’s never worked well. The other attempts within CPJCT fail because too many of the administration rely on the Toe-Holds for their income. I don’t know if you noticed, but there’s a lot of profit to be made out here.”

  “From what I’ve seen, the boundary isn’t as much porous as it is nonexistent,” Zoya said.

  Dorion shrugged. “Yeah, well. It exists. You need a few fig leaves to move cargo into the High Line but it doesn’t take much to get it out. That’s not likely to change either.”

  “Why maintain the fiction?” Natalya asked. “That’s always bothered me. My father always said we needed it but I never got it.”

  “Why are you leaving a secure job with an established, reputable company?” Dorion asked. “It can’t be the credits.”

  Natalya pondered that. Why was she leaving?

  Zoya said, “I’m going with her.”

  “I get that,” Dorion said. “You’re more than welcome to stay. We’re getting the new pilot orientation running in a few more weeks. You’d be a hell of an instructor.”

  Zoya smiled and gave a mock shudder. “Not for me.”

  Dorion looked back at Natalya. “So? Why are you leaving?”

  Natalya shrugged. “I don’t really know. My father would have called it itchy feet. I feel like I’ve been here too long already and I need to go find the next thing. I’m not ready to settle down.” She shrugged again. “I don’t know. It sounds kinda silly and shallow, but it’s just how I feel.”

  Dorion smiled. “That is why we maintain the fiction.”

  The answer blew through Natalya’s mind but didn’t stick. “Because I’m not ready to settle down?”

  “No,” Dorion said. “Because the High Line provides for one kind of person. Those who feel best when they’ve got a solid, relatively secure, and predictable future.”

  Zoya’s eyes widened. “You keep calling Toe-Holds the release valve.”

  “Exactly,” Dorion said. “There’s always another system to find. Another piece of space to explore. We’ve been sifting this section of the Deep Dark for centuries. We still haven’t tagged more than a quarter of it.”

  The swirling ideas gelled in Natalya’s head. “And the safety net. It’s not just the people. We both need each other’s goods.”

  “And services,” Dorion said.

  Zoya nodded. “Some people need the frontier. Others avoid it.”

  “Exactly,” Dorion said. After a moment, he shrugged. “Well, I had to make one last bid even though I knew better.” He held out a hand to Zoya. “Safe voyage.”

  Zoya shook his hand. “Good luck with the new architecture. Thanks for everything.”

  He held out a hand to Natalya. “Safe voyage. I hope you never find what you’re looking for.” He grinned.

  Natalya shook and grinned back. “Oh, I’ll probably find it someday. I don’t expect to be a seeker all my life, but ...” She shrugged and looked up at the ceiling. “There’s a lot to see out there and I got itchy feet.”

  Dorion’s smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. “I’ll get out of your way. You ever need anything, let me know.”

  “We will,” Natalya said.

  The door snicked closed behind him.

  Natalya stood there for a moment before glancing at Zoya. “Well?”

  Zoya shrugged. “I guess we’re done here.” She shouldered her duffle. “Shall we?”

  Natalya grabbed her bag and nodded. “Let’s go.”

  The changes in the station struck Natalya. They passed other people in the passages on the way to the dock. A few of the new pilots nodded to them in passing. A couple of pilots stopped to wish them luck. They’d had their going-away party in the back room of one of the new restaurants and a last round of drinks at Frosty’s with some of the permanent party.

  “It’s coming alive,” Zoya said.

  Natalya nodded.

  “You did that,” Zoya said.

  “We did that,” Natalya said. “And we had a lot of help.”

  When they got to the Peregrine, Michelle Cecil ran up to them. “Good, I caught you.”

  “How’s life as dock master these days?” Zoya asked.

  Cecil chuckled and shook her head. “Busy, busy, busy. We’re not exactly on the A-list of must-see destinations, but they’re talking about expanding the docks and I had to hire a couple of assistants. You’re getting ready to leave?”

  Zoya held up the strap on her bag. “This is the last of it.”

  “One more thing,” Cecil said, digging in the sleeve pocket of her coverall. “Here.” She held out a small data drive. “This may come in handy.”

  Natalya took the drive, flipping it in the palm of her hand. “Thanks. What is it?”

  “Models for the exploration scout. I don’t know if it’s a hundred percent. I’m not sure you’d want models for all of it.”

  Natalya looked at the ship and back at the chip. “Thanks seem inadequate,” she said.

  “Don’t be silly,” Cecil said. “They didn’t cost me anything and nobody here is using them. At least not yet. I just flashed a copy for you. Seemed the least I could do.”
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  Zoya nudged her with her elbow. “Just think if we’d had those before we took the Melbourne out.”

  Natalya nodded. “I was.” She held out a hand to Cecil. “Thank you. Really.”

  “It may be an antique,” Cecil said with a cheeky grin. “That’s no reason not to keep it flying.” Her tablet bipped and she glanced at it. “Gotta go. Fueling problem on bay twelve.” She started out but stopped before leaving the bay to shout “Safe voyage.”

  “That was nice,” Zoya said, nodding at the chip.

  “All we need now is access to a couple of printers.”

  “Dark Knight has some,” Zoya said. “Public rental. Flat rate, time plus materials.”

  Natalya keyed the lock open. “How do you know that?”

  “I had plenty of time to explore the docks. It’s actually part of the chandlery service.”

  “We could have printed that coupling we needed?” Natalya asked.

  “With the models? Probably,” Zoya said. “I didn’t find out about it until we got back.”

  Natalya looked at the drive in her hand. “Probably right.”

  “Natalya!”

  They turned to find Ernst Panko striding across the bay. “Brian said I had to be quick.”

  “You almost missed us,” Natalya said. “Shouldn’t you be minding the store at the yards?”

  “I wanted to talk to you about selling the Peregrine,” he said.

  Natalya looked at the ship and back at Panko. “You know that’s not happening.”

  “Wait. You haven’t heard my offer yet.” He grinned at her. “What if I replace her?”

  “Replace her?” Natalya glanced at Zoya. “What do you mean replace her?”

  “What if I design a ship for you? A modern ship. Custom job. Small like the Peregrine but with some cargo capacity. An extra stateroom. Whatever you want.”

  “You going to build it, too?” Natalya asked, a laugh bubbling out of her at the absurdity of the idea.

  Panko bit his lip and shrugged. “Well, I do run a shipyard these days.”

  “Alison going to let you do that?” Zoya asked.

  “It was her idea.”

  Zoya raised an eyebrow.

  “Well, all right, I talked her into it but she agreed once I told her about it.”

  “How are you two doing, by the way?” Zoya asked.

  Panko looked at the deck and gave it a little scuff with his foot. “You know. We’re still feeling things out as we go.”

  “I bet,” Natalya said. “So, what’re you proposing? You build us a ship and trade it for the Peregrine?”

  “I can toss in a some credits to sweeten the deal.”

  “We’d have to hang around for a couple of months while you build it,” Natalya said.

  Panko shrugged.

  Natalya glanced at Zoya.

  “Your ship. Your call,” Zoya said.

  Natalya looked up at the Peregrine again and shook her head. “She’s old. She’s scarred. She’s an antique.” She looked at Panko. “But she’s a gift from my father and she’s home. It’s a generous offer, Ernst, but not one I can accept.”

  A short laugh puffed almost silently from his mouth. “Figured you’d say that, but I had to try. I’ve got the beginning of a plan. I’ll send it to you. If you change your mind, let me know.” He stuck out a hand.

  “Thanks, Ernst,” Natalya said.

  They shook all around before Panko left them standing on the ramp.

  “Let’s get out of here before somebody else tries to talk us out of it,” Natalya said, leading the way into the ship.

  “You gotta admit it was a generous offer,” Zoya said.

  Natalya nodded. “I was tempted.” She keyed the outer door closed and they headed down the passageway toward the bow.

  “But?” Zoya asked.

  “But this is home,” Natalya said. “I wouldn’t feel right selling it.”

  Zoya stood in the doorway to her stateroom. “You won’t always feel that way,” she said.

  The tone made Natalya pause. “Bitter voice of experience?”

  Zoya shook her head. “Home isn’t a place. It’s what your heart feels.”

  “Your grandmother?”

  Zoya shook her head, a wistful smile focused somewhere else on her lips. “Pop-pop. He was always the romantic.”

  Natalya looked around the ship, forward to the cockpit and aft down the passageway to engineering. Zoya’s words took root and she decided she liked them there. “I’d like to meet your grandparents one day.”

  “Got any plans for the next month? I’m ready for some down time and we’re pretty flush at the moment.”

  Natalya dropped her bag on the deck in her stateroom. “I’ll start the coffee. You plot the course.”

  Zoya grinned and offered a mock salute. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

  About The Author

  Nathan Lowell has been a writer for more than forty years, and first entered the literary world by podcasting his novels. His science-fiction series, Trader’s Tales From The Golden Age of the Solar Clipper, grew from his long time fascination with space opera and his own experiences shipboard in the United States Coast Guard. Unlike most works which focus on a larger-than-life hero (prophesied savior, charismatic captain, or exiled prince), Nathan centers on the people behind the scenes—ordinary men and women trying to make a living in the depths of space. In his novels, there are no bug-eyed monsters, or galactic space battles, instead he paints a richly vivid and realistic world where the “hero” uses hard work and his own innate talents to improve his station and the lives of those of his community.

  Dr. Nathan Lowell holds a Ph.D. in Educational Technology with specializations in Distance Education and Instructional Design. He also holds an M.A. in Educational Technology and a BS in Business Administration with a minor in marketing. He grew up on the south coast of Maine and is strongly rooted in the maritime heritage of the sea-farer. He served in the USCG from 1970 to 1975, seeing duty aboard a cutter on hurricane patrol in the North Atlantic and at a communications station in Kodiak, Alaska.

  He currently lives in the plains east of the Rocky Mountains with his wife and two daughters.

  Awards for Nathan’s Books

  2016 Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers Independent Writer Of The Year for In Ashes Born

  2011 Parsec Award Winner for Best Speculative Fiction (long form) for Owner’s Share

  2011 Parsec Award Finalist for Best Speculative Fiction (short form) for The Astonishing Amulet of Amenartas

  2010 Parsec Award Winner for Best Speculative Fiction (long form) for Captain’s Share

  2009 Podiobooks Founder’s Choice Award for Captain’s Share

  2009 Parsec Award Finalist for Best Speculative Fiction (long form) for Double Share

  2008 Podiobooks Founder’s Choice Award for Double Share

  2008 Parsec Award Finalist for Best Speculative Fiction (long form) for Full Share

  2008 Parsec Award Finalist for Best Speculative Fiction (long form) for South Coast

  Learn More At:

  NathanLowell.com

  Twitter: @nlowell