Suicide Run

by TS Hottle

  The Bova had an officer compliment that was overwhelmingly female. The enlistees and noncom officers had more males among their ranks, though still more female than male. Being female herself, Suicide did not mind this. But every Compact vessel she had served aboard had a more even compliment. The Hancock's crew enjoyed a nearly fifty-fifty split, though most ships' crews were roughly a 60/40 split either way.

  The power of matriarchy, she told herself.

  "Commander Cui?"

  The woman addressing her had rejuved recently, the telltale lines below her ears smoothed somewhat. However, she had clearly waited until her thirties to begin treatments.

  Just like Admiral Burke, Suicide told herself. "Captain Bellona?"

  The big woman smiled. Or did she just seem big? Suicide decided it was her posture. "Call me Macha. I don't stand much for formality." She smiled. "Captain Durant on the Cygnus was a corrupting influence on me."

  Suicide laughed. "He was in my flight wing on the Hancock. Real stiff-ass before the crash. Afterward, he drove all the nubs crazy."

  "Well, when you stop behaving like mommy and daddy bought you privileges you really don't have…" She let the thought trail off, which was good. Complaining about officers appointed from on-high, Suicide knew, could waste an entire afternoon, especially if another crew member looped into the conversation.

  "Did they tell you where we are going?" Bellona continued.

  "Thule," said Suicide. "But how?"

  Bellona stretched her hand toward the rest of the enormous CNC. "The Bova, of course."

  "But the wormhole collapsed," said Suicide. "And I thought Thule was inaccessible by projection drive."

  "Interesting bit of physics," said Bellona. "Did you know that, when a stable wormhole collapses, it leaves a sort of crack or seam in the fabric of space?"

  "I've heard that, but I thought that was theoretical."

  "It is, but whenever something new about wormholes comes to light, someone usually chases it down until it's definitively proved or disproved. If it's proved, they put it into production with the latest drives."

  "But Dasarius Interstellar holds a near monopoly on projection drive."

  Bellona laughed. "The Metisian Republic has corporate sponsorship. They're not even sharing it with the Compact." Her expression became serious. "Why did you bring your protégé along? He could recover just as easily on Farigha and should be well enough to go back to Amargosa."

  "He requires supervision. What do you need from me?"

  Bellona motioned for her to follow. They made their way to a small room off the CNC, an office sealed off from the noise and chatter outside. "We're taking Jayne Best to Thule. That's a pretty dangerous trip. They didn't brief us at Metis. What's going on?"

  Suicide went back to the beginning, describing how little Naomi Best had been left on her doorstep, the two kinetic needles, Jayne Best's disappearance and emergence on Marilyn. Bellona made her stop when she got to the lab on Walton.

  "Wait," she said. "They did what to her? Is that why she's in a stasis chamber?"

  "Juno, the real Juno, seems to have the same goal as the Thulians. Make humans amortal." Suicide pressed her lips thin. "But someone in Juno is terrified they'll never be able to control the process."

  Bellona pulled two mugs from a cabinet and inserted one into a dispenser. The smell of Caliphite coffee filled the room. "Coffee? Tea?"

  "Green tea, if you have it." It had been a while since Suicide had drunk green tea. Her stash had gone up in flames on Amargosa, and Farigha did not import it. She had to make do with black tea for the past three weeks.

  Bellona sipped from her mug while the machine produced Suicide's tea. "So, Commander, will the Sapper team with you be staying on the Goldeneye? Or does Lady Yamato wish to have guest quarters for her people?"

  Suicide had reached for her tea and froze. "Goldeneye?"

  "It's entering our docking bay now. I thought you knew."

  She fingered her wrist chip and found she could connect to the Goldeneye. "Boolay, what the hell are you doing?"

  "Not now, Commander," the Zaran said. "I'm an engineer, not a pilot, so flying this thing is tricky for me."

  "Why are you docking with the Bova? And why is Lady Yamato with you?"

  "His Majesty," Mitsuko cut in, "King Yanuhito, First of His Name, Prince of the Throne of Napoleon, King of Bonaparte, and Lord High Terraformer of Same, requests that I, His grandniece, betrothed to the…"

  Suicide had never heard Mitsuko rattle off her family's interminable titles like that before. "Yamato."

  "Uncle Yoshi wants me to make contact with Thule." She paused a beat, then added, "So does Edward. And I don't want you without an escort until you're back on Amargosa and in your shack on the lake."

  "That shack was obliterated before we left for Marilyn."

  "All the more reason to give you backup and firepower."

  Suicide appreciated the gesture, but Thule was not exactly a military powerhouse. Far from it. Its Assembly delegates had shaved their heads and dressed like Buddhist monks. They discouraged permanent settlement among newcomers under the age of a hundred. And not a single weapons system or warship originated from the far-flung world. "You do know we're going to a planet where people mostly plant gardens and walk around naked in the summer. Right?"

  "You do know," Mitsuko said, playfully mocking Suicide's tone, "that Thule deliberately cut themselves off from the Compact and everyone else. Right? They might want us off their lawn."

  She looked to Bellona for support, but the captain merely spread her hands. "I was told to treat all Bonapartan guard as Metisian military. That comes from Sophiopolis."

  "Yamato," said Suicide, "contact the Bova's XO and request guest quarters for yourself and your team. See to it that Boolay also gets accommodations."

  "If it's all right with you, Commander," said Boolay, "I'd rather stay on the ship. I can't sleep in human beds, and if I have to sit in a butt hugger much longer, I'm going to need a chiropractor."

  "Butt hugger?" Bellona mouthed at Suicide.

  "Chair." She brought her palm tatt back up to her face. "Understood. I'll see if we can resupply while we're aboard. We're on Amargosan business, which apparently means we're part of Metis now."

  "Understood." Boolay cut the link.

  Retroact: 419 IE

  CNV Hancock, over Tian

  Eileen Burke stood behind her desk, her new admiral's stars adorning her shoulders. The war had made her a Force Admiral, but Reaper had told Suicide she should have been Fleet Admiral years ago. She kept turning down promotions to stay in the field.

  Suicide could see herself doing that if this conversation turned out differently than she expected.

  "What's on your mind, Lieutenant?" asked Burke, not looking up from a pad in her hand.

  Suicide reached up to her collar and removed the silver lieutenant's bar, placing it gently on Burke's desk. "I can't do it anymore."

  Burke's eyes finally met hers. "Do what? Fly a shuttle with the best of them? Just because the war's over doesn't mean we still don't need you." She gestured toward the visitor's chair.

  Suicide remained at parade stance. "Respectfully, Force Admiral…"

  Burke raised her palm. "Just 'Admiral,' Lieutenant. And whatever you do, don't call me 'sir.' It's about time the service respected my ovaries."

  Cui "Suicide" Yun wanted to laugh but dared not. Not with what she had to say. "Admiral, I have been on ten ground missions with First Lieutenant Kray since I rescued him a few months ago. On seven of those missions, he Section 11'd at least one Goshenite rebel. One he shot in the back."

  Burke raised an eyebrow. "Were they righteous, Lieutenant?"

  "Technically."

  "Technically. So, what seems to be the problem?"

  "No one is investigating him, Admiral." She looked down at the deck. "And frankly, he enjoyed it too much, like he got a thrill from killing those people."

  "Mr. Kray is resigning his commission
and returning to his native Ares." She frowned. "Besides, he is Corps, not Navy. I can't do anything about him."

  Bullshit, thought Suicide. Four-star admirals bow and scrape in your presence. So does our new Fleet Admiral.

  "I can, however, make sure you leave this room with a gold cluster on your collar, Mr. Cui."

  Her breath caught in her chest. "You mean…"

  Burke permitted a grin. "Reaper and I pushed hard for it. And I'm losing Reaper as it is. He's been named XO of the Valles Marineris. I need a new wing commander. I need you."

  Suicide—Yun—could hear her father's voice now echoing in her head. It would be as though she had been born all over again. Cui Jiao-long would dance around the house, spin her mother around, and thrust cigars at all his squad mates. And she could see Akrad in a vision, standing behind Burke, his face beaming with pride.

  But she could not get rid of that mad grin Lucius Kray wore on his face every time he put a bullet in a particularly loathsome Goshenite. "It's an incredible offer, Admiral. And I would love to serve as part of your command team. You've taught me so much since I came to this ship."

  The smile on Burke's face remained, but clearly, it had frozen and gone lifeless. "But…"

  "This war took my husband. I lost a daughter he never knew we had. And I've had to stand by while a little man with some glimmer of authority abused one of our most serious duties. I can't, Admiral. I have to respectfully decline."

  Burke rose and came around the desk. She pinned the cluster on Suicide's collar. Then she stepped back and saluted. "Lieutenant Commander Cui, I will honor your wishes. But you retire a lieutenant commander."

  Suicide saluted back, feeling tears form in her eyes. "Thank you, Admiral."

  "And Yun," the admiral added, "if you ever change your mind, I want you by my side."

  15

  "My God, what did they do to this woman?"

  The man's name was Bradley. He looked an unrejuvenated seventy and a bit too shabby to be a physician. At first, Suicide thought he came from the colonies, where people either shunned or could not have rejuve treatment. Then she noticed the odd coloration of his skin. It showed up in euros and rimmers like herself more, but it altered almost everyone who had spent more than a decade under Thule's orange sun. She wondered why a man would choose to allow himself to age so much before rejuvenating, especially when the Thulian treatment permanently reversed the effects.

  "A human with that much bone marrow loss should be dead." He fiddled with displays on the readouts near the stasis cradle. "I hope we can help her." He looked up at Suicide. "I guess this is a one-way trip for me. I won't be coming back."

  She frowned. The doctor even acted old, at least in her eyes. "Why do you say that, Doctor? I thought the Bova could find its way back from Thule."

  He smiled, and for a moment, she could see through the carefully constructed façade of age. This man had rejuved in his forties, if even that. The gray hair, the lines on his face, all seemed to result from some post-rejuve treatment, like repairing stubborn joints or turning fertility on or off until the next treatment. "I think you misunderstand. You are probably going back to the Compact."

  "Metis," she corrected. "Or rather Amargosa."

  He waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, that split is temporary, I assure you. Designed to purge the cancer from humanity."

  "Cancer?"

  "Juno, Ms. Cui. Juno is the cancer." He smiled again, and his teeth betrayed his frozen youth. "When I first went to Thule and became part of the project, my mentors had a saying. Thule is evolution. Juno is revolution. And revolutions crumble."

  That did not exactly jibe with Suicide's knowledge of history. "Do they? What about America and France? China? Mars? How about Etrusca's shunning of Earth once it had projection drive?"

  Bradley laughed. "What about the dozens of petty dictators throughout Earth history, preening in their uniforms while the next dictator plotted their demise? What about all those failed colonies that thought they could go it alone without Earth only to find they still needed what the core worlds had naturally or built up themselves? You mention the big revolutions, the ones that birthed nations that still affect us. Most revolutions fail, and Juno is one such revolution. Thule is simply guided evolution. We became amortal by design and use natural selection to spread this new condition throughout our species. No politics. No corporate gain. No real religion. Just a multigeneration mission to rid humans of death by old age."

  She did not come down here to listen to a faux old man speechify. "What about Jayne Best?"

  Bradley laughed. "Oh, she's special, our Jayne. Somehow, Juno found out that she donated her bone marrow to make her friend, now her husband, amortal like us. The Orags perfected the process about the time we started sending people to Mars. Juno thinks if they strip her for parts, they can duplicate the process and control it."

  "Can they?"

  He laughed even louder. "Juno has a leader somewhere, someone who was inadvertently one of us. He only understands control and power. I think originally, this man believed he was furthering our aims, but now it's become revenge."

  "Why revenge?"

  Bradley looked down at Jayne, in cold sleep but still showing signs of agony. "He believes we're a trap to destroy humanity, not ensure its survival."

  Suicide frowned. "Doctor, I'm an outsider. And while I'd do anything for Jayne or Douglas Best, I don't know what it is you're doing. How do I know this man you speak of isn't right?"

  "We're pushing evolution along by breeding ourselves. The more of us there are, the more of us can use our own tissue to help these final generations of Homo sapiens become Homo amortalis, if that's the species they want to be. There are others I can't speak of. And we intend to breed with the rest of humanity, pass along our genes to the next generation of humans. We intend to heal and multiply." He looked down at Jayne and scowled. "Not commit murder. Juno has done plenty of that, including conning the Gelt into becoming our enemies."

  A harsh tone sounded. The voice of Patty Friese, the ship's helm, came over the speakers. "This is the CNC. We will transit to the Invictus System in five minutes."

  "Invictus?" asked Suicide.

  "Of course," said Bradley. "The crack in the universe where the Yaphit Pass once was runs between Etrusca and Thule. Did the captain not explain that to you?"

  She frowned. "Not entirely."

  Suicide watched from CNC as the Bova emerged from its wormhole in the outer reaches of the Invictus system. The portal to the former Yaphit Pass, a stable wormhole, looked like any hypergate in the Compact's network.

  Only they found this portal dark.

  JT stepped into the CNC wearing the brown uniform of Amargosa's Planetary Guard. He moved gingerly, favoring his left side. He paused, his expression questioning as he stopped in the hatch's threshold.

  Suicide made eye contact with Bellona, who gave a slight cock of her head. She then gave a slight nod of her head. JT entered.

  "Sorry," he mumbled. "Didn't feel like riding this out from Medbay."

  "You clear for duty, Lieutenant?" asked Bellona.

  He nodded. "I can probably pilot the ship. Just not the Goldeneye."

  Over in the helm pod, Lt. Cmdr. Patty Friese let out a derisive laugh. "Plots one wormhole, and he thinks he can pilot the most advanced starship in any human fleet."

  "I meant I can sit down and do it. The Goldeneye tends to throw us around."

  "You know this sailor, Friese?" asked Bellona.

  She turned. "Mr. Austin trained aboard the Challenger during the Amargosan liberation. Got to plot his first wormhole."

  "I'm just observing."

  Suicide grabbed his arm. "And nothing more. I need you whole again. Let me take Madam Best down to the surface."

  Bellona gestured to an empty pod. "Grab a seat, Lieutenant. You're making me woozy just watching you sway."

  He settled into a seat gently.

  "We can do this without the gate?" Suicide had never piloted
a projection drive ship. Whenever she needed to traverse extremely long interstellar distances, she used hypergates. In a way, it now made her slightly jealous of JT, who had plotted at least two wormholes in his short career, but always aboard a larger ship with someone else at the helm.

  "This is a portal," said Bellona, "not a gate. It gave ships an entrance to the Yaphit Pass so no one blundered into the edges and got smeared into subatomic debris. Assuming it hasn't drifted away from the remains of the Pass, we are simply going to project along the path it once took."

  The view screen on the forward bulkhead displayed the bow of the Bova. Suicide could see the hull open up in what looked like a blossom. "Discreet projection drive?"

  Bellona stared at her, wide-eyed. "How…?"

  "Zaran technology. The Goldeneye has a smaller version of it."

  The captain gave her a thin smile. "One of the advantages of Metis detaching itself from the Compact. We can take technology from anyone willing to sell it to us. Had we signed the revised Compact, the Navy would have new toys to play with."

  Ahead, inside the ring of the dead portal, the familiar white swirl of a wormhole as it opened faded into view. The viewscreen switched to a line graphic display before the multi-dimensional chaos of the interior became visible. Suicide glanced in JT's direction.

  He did not show any of the apprehension he normally did before a jump. He caught her eye and held up a small vial of pills.

  "Orag remedy," he said. "They told me I could even stare into the wormhole, but I really don't feel like testing that right now."

  "Good call," said Suicide. "Captain Bellona would just make you clean up your own puke."

  "Not true," said Bellona. "We have vacuum bots for that."

  Friese interrupted the banter to announce transit. "Attention all hands. Wormhole transit to begin in five… four… three… two… one…"

  Suicide noticed several crew members popping pills dry as Friese counted down. A couple of women eyed JT with envy. JT, for his part, seemed unusually chill.