Suicide Run

by Nathan Lowell

  “And what happened to them?” Zoya asked. “Do they want the job back?”

  Dorion paused, chewing on his tongue for a moment before answering. “He died.”

  “That’s not suspicious,” Natalya said, feeling her eyeballs rolling.

  “It was an accident,” he said.

  “I’m sure,” Zoya said. “Project leads die from accidents every day. Radiation poisoning from poring over a hot console all day? Infected paper cut?”

  “Airlock malfunction. He got sucked into a dock that was supposed to be pressurized but wasn’t.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” Zoya said.“Who certified the lock?” Natalya asked.

  “A team from home office did the inquiry. They ruled it an accident.” Dorion shook his head. “You can’t seriously believe somebody would have the opportunity to fake that, can you?”

  “I don’t know,” Zoya said. “We trust the machinery to what it’s supposed to do, but how much of it depends on somebody else doing their job correctly and thoroughly?”

  “She’s got a point,” Natalya said. “The lock on the new boat had a malfunction in the pressure overrides so you couldn’t open both doors at the same time. How easy would it be to rig it so they both opened at the same time?”

  “They can’t,” Dorion said. “The inner door can’t open against a vacuum. They don’t have the muscle to break the seal.”

  “Obviously, that’s a flawed assumption,” Zoya said. “I’m not an engineer but I can think of at least two ways it could happen.”

  He opened his mouth but closed it again without saying anything.

  “So, back to the new ship. What do you want us to do about it?” Natalya asked. “Pittman’s kicked us off the station. We had a week but couldn’t do more than get a start on checking all the systems. A crew of engineers could do it faster, but you can’t use the engineers who designed it to test the build.”

  “Some software help from High Tortuga would help,” Zoya said with a shrug. “Even a couple of deck officers who know what a ship is supposed to do would help.”

  “We’d need to be reinstated in Pittman’s good graces,” Natalya said. “We called her baby ugly and that’s going to be a hard pill for her to swallow.”

  Dorion frowned and sipped his coffee. “You said part of the problem.” He looked at Natalya.

  Natalya had to backtrack in her mind to find the reference. “Yeah. The ships aren’t going to solve your problem.”

  “Why not?” he asked.

  “The network doesn’t scale. I’m surprised your technical boffins at High Tortuga didn’t point it out,” Natalya said.

  “We’re not planning on getting that big,” he said.

  “They weren’t planning on being in business for two centuries when they started either, were they?” Natalya asked.

  He drained his cup, placed the empty on the sideboard, and crossed his arms. “Give.”

  “Pittman’s building a thousand ships over the next stanyer. I don’t think she’ll make it, but how many new stations will come online in that time?”

  Dorion shrugged. “No idea. Seems like they run in batches. Nothing for stanyers and then a spike.”

  “I know you won’t tell us peons, but you know the numbers. How many new stations have come to you in the last five stanyers? The last three? If that rate continues, how many ships will you need?” Natalya said.

  “It’s worse than that,” Zoya said. “What if this station has a catastrophic failure?”

  “We’ve got backups,” he said. “Three new comms spikes that we can bring online in a matter of a few stans.”

  “They’re all here?” Zoya asked.

  “One is. The other two are in other Viceroy systems. No, I won’t tell you which ones.”

  “You know they’re there?” Zoya asked. “You’ve visited them? Seen them?”

  He shook his head and looked at the overhead. “Yes, I know they’re there. I’ve toured one of them in person.”

  “How do you know the other two are there?” Natalya asked.

  “We test one of them each stanyer. A crew powers it up. We run data through it in parallel for a few days, then put it to sleep again.”

  Zoya nodded. “Triple redundancy and actual live testing. More than I expected.”

  Dorion shot her a foul glance. “We’ve been doing this for a very, very long time without your help and I don’t appreciate your attitude. I’ll trust you know your job if you can trust me to know mine.”

  Zoya held up a hand, palm out. “Fair enough. Sorry. I’ll keep a lid on it.”

  He looked at Natalya again. “So what’s the problem? In small, plain words that even an administrator can understand.”

  “Central processing works as long as the hub is secure and none of the spokes are too long,” Natalya said. “Two centuries ago, there weren’t many spokes so having them stretch halfway across the Annex wasn’t a problem.”

  “Go on,” Dorion said.

  “Now you’ve got too many spokes and you’re getting more all the time. The more ships you put out and the longer they have to stay out, the greater the chance that something will happen.”

  “You’re barely keeping up with the data load now,” Zoya said.

  “Why do you say that?” he asked, his gaze focused on her.

  “Because you’re desperate for the ships,” Zoya said. “The project has been live for at least two stanyers. Probably more than five. Corporate inertia keeps large companies from moving very fast, so it was probably a serious problem before the project even started. Nothing you’ve said makes me think it’s getting any better.”

  Dorion started to speak but bit back whatever it might have been, chewing the side of his mouth for a moment. “What about the hubs?”

  “The ships are the slowest form of communication except across interstellar distances,” Natalya said. “What happens when the number of spokes exceeds the capacity of the hub?”

  “We just add more processing power and keep grinding,” he said. “That’s easy.”

  “It is, but I’m talking about too many ships, too many pilots, too many long jumps out into the dark with all the accumulated errors,” Zoya said.

  “It’s what we do,” he said, refolding his arms.

  “It’s what you’ve done,” Natalya said. “Nothing says you have to keep doing it that way.”

  “What’s your solution to this problem we don’t have?” Dorion asked.

  “Regional hubs,” Zoya said.

  “Regional hubs? That’s your idea?” he asked. “How does multiplying the problem help me solve it?”

  “It’s the scalar factor. Put the hubs where the demand is. Balance the demand across the hubs and use the new ships to provide the fastest service.”

  “You’re suggesting we recreate this hub? How many times?” Dorion asked.

  “Not this hub,” Zoya said. “That would be overkill. Keep this as the main hub, it’s where the central data storage is and you’ll need to keep feeding that data in here, but for transient data? Nothing says you have to pull it all in here in one step.”

  “Won’t that delay it?” he asked. “Dropping it off at an intermediary and having to ferry it out here again?”

  “Might reduce the average time per packet,” Zoya said.

  His frown relaxed just a fraction. “How?”

  “Put the hubs one jump out from here,” Zoya said. “Well, three jumps but a short one on each end with a big jump in between. Minimize jump error. You can retrieve from all the hubs in a single day with just a few ships.”

  “What about the delay at the hubs?” he asked.

  “What delay?” Natalya asked. “If you’re pulling the data from the hub every day, that’s faster than waiting two or three days for a ship to make a loop and come back. It shortens the cycle times for the ships because they’re only working the local area and you’re not having to cover the whole Western Annex from here.”

  “Those ships are small, fa
st, and have long legs,” Zoya said. “With some careful plotting for the new hubs, you can keep them in the Deep Dark. No need to put them in a system at all. Locate them where a single ship can cover several data buoys in a day. Provision the stations with fuel, gases, and some bunk space. Rotate the crews in and out from here where you’ve got the long-term facilities to handle a few hundred at a time.”

  Dorion shifted his weight from one leg to the other and stared at Zoya for several long moments. “How many hubs?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” Zoya said. “You’re the man with the numbers. It would depend on where the load is and how many stations you need to cover. At least three, I should imagine. Six would give you a lot of coverage. Perhaps as many as eight.”

  He shifted his weight back and refolded his arms, still staring at Zoya with an occasional frown in Natalya’s direction. After a long, awkward pause, he said, “We need those boats.”

  Zoya nodded. “That’s going to be true whatever plan you decide on.”

  “Those ships are almost what you need,” Natalya said. “They’re this close to being right.” She held up her index finger and thumb in a near-pinch. “But somebody’s messing with the project.”

  Dorion pursed his lips and focused his stare at Natalya. “Malice or ignorance?”

  Natalya looked at the deck and shifted her own weight back and forth. “Could be ignorance,” she said, hating that she had to admit it. She finally looked up at him. “We’re the new kids on this block. You’re in a better position to tell. Why Pittman? She’s probably an ace admin, but what she knows about ships wouldn’t fill a coffee cup. If she’s going to run that show, she needs an engineer who can be her bullshit detector.”

  “What about Downs?” Dorion asked.

  “Downs is one of the problems,” Zoya said.

  “Why?” he asked. “He’s been with the company longer than I have. From all reports he’s a solid engineer.”

  “He’s a structural engineer,” Zoya said. “Maybe he’s a good one. Even a great one.”

  “But you don’t think so,” he said.

  Zoya shook her head and sighed. “No.”

  “Why?”

  “If he were a good engineer, he’d know he’s outside of his area of expertise. I’m sure he can design and oversee building dry docks and habitation units. Probably even dealing with the logistics of power and air. He might know enough about closed environmental systems to deal with the plumbing.” She paused and shook her head. “He’s not a ship designer. While a lot of his skills go into designing and building ships, he’s got nothing on propulsion, navigation, and communications.”

  “He has no idea how a ship actually works,” Natalya said. “It’s not a station that just happens to fly around.”

  “He has people to advise him on that,” Dorion said.

  “Who?” Natalya asked. “The ship designers all left.”

  His frown deepened at that. “You keep saying that. How do you know?”

  “You ever visit the yard?” Natalya asked.

  He shook his head. “I’ve been rather busy here.”

  “All right,” Zoya said. “If you wanted to know the skinny on what’s happening here—and you weren’t the administrator? Who would you talk to?”

  His frown relaxed for a moment and his head tilted to one side. “Why wouldn’t I talk to the admin?”

  “Maybe you would,” Zoya said with a nod. “But how could you verify it?”

  Dorion’s entire face relaxed. He looked bemused by the question. “Where are you going with this?”

  “Where do you go for the gossip?” Natalya asked.

  “Frosty’s,” he said.

  “Can you trust it?” Zoya asked.

  “Not as such, no.”

  “Right,” Zoya said. “But you can use that as a place to start. Maybe the grumbles are just crew bitching. It’s their right to bitch. It shouldn’t take long to figure out.”

  “You want to know what’s happening on the station, talk to the staff at Frosty’s. Not the regulars,” Natalya said. “They’ve got their paws on the pulse.”

  “And you talked to the staff at Pulaski?” Dorion asked.

  “A place called Rudy’s. It’s central to the yard and the docks. They’re quite happy with the new personnel but disappointed that the original team has left the station,” Zoya said.

  “Pittman’s looking into it now. She didn’t realize her team wasn’t the actual team that designed the new ships,” Natalya said.

  “How could she not know that?” Dorion asked.

  Natalya and Zoya shared a quick glance. “Now you know why we think there’s something rotting in the ductwork,” Zoya said.

  He frowned. “First things first. We need the ships.”

  Natalya nodded. “You’ll also need a deployment doctrine, and it would be good if you and Pittman coordinated a bit so she doesn’t sandbag you with something because she’s not in the loop.”

  He shot her a sour look. “You made your point.”

  Natalya shrugged. “How can we help? We’re not allowed on Bowie.”

  “I’ll talk to Alison,” Dorion said.

  Natalya’s tablet bipped and Zoya’s echoed a heartbeat later. Natalya pulled up her screen. “Maybe you won’t have to. It’s Pittman. She wants to talk.”

  “Apparently, she did a little poking around after we left,” Zoya said, reading her tablet. “She didn’t like what she found.”

  “Did she say what it was?” Dorion asked.

  Natalya shook her head. “Only that the numbers don’t tally.”

  Zoya pocketed her tablet and nodded. “She must have taken it to heart and spot-checked the inventory data against the warehouse.”

  Chapter 22

  Pulaski Yards

  2366, May 13

  THE COMMS STATION PINGED as the Peregrine settled into her berth. “Bet that’s Pittman,” Natalya said, checking the station ties.

  Zoya opened the window and snorted. “No bet. Invitation to dinner.” She glanced at the chrono on the console. “Just over a stan from now. Her quarters.”

  Natalya nodded. “Time enough to grab a coffee at Rudy’s.”

  “Rudy’s?”

  “I wanna check in with Sandra.”

  Zoya frowned. “You expect much has changed in the last four days?”

  “Not really, but if anything has? Sandra will know about it.”

  “You don’t trust Pittman?”

  Natalya secured her console and shrugged. “Let’s just say I’d prefer to have a foundation under me before Pittman starts spinning her vision of reality. I don’t completely trust the sudden turnaround.”

  Zoya snickered and led the way to the lock.

  When they stepped into Rudy’s, the dual scents of cinnamon and coffee washed over Natalya making her sigh. She felt her entire body relax. Sandra looked up from filling salt shakers at the counter. Her eyes widened and she smiled. “Well, look what the cat dragged in. I didn’t expect to see you two back here.” She waved them into a booth off to the side.

  Natalya glanced around the empty restaurant and raised an eyebrow as they slipped into the seats. “I guess we didn’t need a reservation, huh?”

  Sandra gave a low chuckle. “You just missed the last group and the shift change happens in about half a stan. It’ll pick up after that for a bit.”

  Zoya frowned. “Long hours for short pay.”

  Sandra shrugged. “Nothing better to do and I can just as easily do it here, but what’s with you? Last I heard you’d been booted.”

  “Heard from Tony Downs lately?” Natalya asked.

  “Downs?” Sandra asked with a short shake of her head. “Not likely. Why?”

  “Just wondering,” Natalya said.

  “Uh huh,” Sandra said, rolling her tongue around in her mouth a bit. “What can I get ya?”

  “I need some coffee that I didn’t make,” Natalya said.

  “I might have a fresh cinnamon roll to go with it
,” Sandra said. “I’m not above trading pastry for good goss.”

  “Not much to tell,” Natalya said. “We thought if anybody knew what was happening on-station, it would be you.”

  “Why Downs?” Sandra asked.

  “We had a bit of a run in with him last time,” Natalya said. “Ms. Pittman didn’t like our take on it.”

  “That why she booted you?” Sandra’s eyebrows rose.

  “We might have suggested she didn’t know what she was doing,” Natalya said, studying the table top.

  “And you’re back already?” Sandra asked. “How’d that happen? She’s not known for backing off.”

  Natalya looked up and shrugged. “Not sure. We figured something must have happened here to change her mind.”

  Sandra looked at Zoya with a raised eyebrow.

  Zoya grinned. “None for me, thanks. Just coffee. We’ve got a dinner date coming up.”

  Sandra snorted. “I’m guessing it’s not with Tony Downs.”

  “You’ve not heard anything from the yardbirds?” Natalya asked.

  Sandra chewed the corner of her mouth a moment and frowned. “Couple of the guys were in this morning. Jawing about some airlock problem. I didn’t hear what. They weren’t happy, but that’s normal.” She shrugged.

  Natalya glanced across the table at Zoya. “You know who they were? Where they work?”

  Sandra laughed. “Honey, this is a big station and with the guys coming and the guys going, I’m lucky I know myself in the mirror in the morning.” She looked back and forth between them and sighed. “Guess I can’t blame a woman for askin’. Lemme get you some coffee.”

  “Thanks,” Natalya said and offered an apologetic smile. “We don’t know anything or we’d share.”

  “Maybe we’ll know more after dinner,” Zoya said.

  Sandra shrugged and disappeared into the kitchen only to return in a few moments with cups and a carafe. “Enjoy,” she said, winking at Natalya before returning to her salt shakers behind the counter.

  Natalya hunkered down over her mug, letting the warm steam float across her face as she stared into the dark depths. “Coincidence?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

  “Not likely,” Zoya said, her voice not any louder. “Hard to shrug something like that off as an accident a second time.”