Suicide Run

  “Testimony?” Natalya asked.

  “Inquiry. This will be a formal hearing.” Panko paused and ran a hand over his chin. “At least in the beginning and on the surface. I expect it’ll last several stans. Maybe extend into tomorrow.”

  “Why so long?” Zoya asked.

  He snorted. “Because they won’t find anything when they search our ship. Whoever is driving this won’t like it if I go back aboard before they’re satisfied the chips aren’t here.”

  Zoya’s eyes widened. “Oh,” she said.

  Panko nodded. “Now you know why we couldn’t bring the chips aboard.”

  “We better get going then,” Natalya said. She tore into the package and pulled out fresh shipsuits and skivvies, handing Zoya the smaller sizes before going into the head.

  Chapter 43

  High Tortuga

  2366, June 1

  THE LOCK-CALL BUZZED only a few ticks later. “That didn’t take long,” Panko said as Natalya and Zoya stepped into the passageway.

  “What? Us getting changed or getting clearance?” Natalya asked, running her hand down the sleeve of the new shipsuit and trying to get a feel for the fabric. “What’s this made of?”

  “Don’t like it?” Panko asked.

  “I love it,” she said.

  “It’s a wool-cotton blend. That’s real cloth. Don’t put it in the refresher. It needs to be washed.”

  “Like in water?” Zoya asked.

  Panko laughed. “Yeah. With soap. It’s much more comfortable to wear but a pain in the ass to care for once you’re used to using the refresher.”

  The lock-call buzzed again—a little longer this time.

  “I think our escort is getting antsy,” Natalya said.

  “Do them good to wait,” Panko said. He held up a finger. “Wait for it.”

  The lock-call buzzed three short pulses and then a single long call.

  Panko keyed the lock before it stopped. “Oh. Are you ready to go?” he asked looking at the squad leader.

  The officer’s face showed just the tiniest hint of red across this cheeks and over his ears. Natalya saw his jaw muscles clench as he bit back whatever it was he wanted to say. “If you’re quite through, Mr. Panko?”

  “Lead the way,” Panko said.

  As they stepped off the ramp, he slapped the lock control and the outer door closed. Natalya saw the sly smile flicker across the officer’s face so briefly that she might have missed it if she hadn’t been looking at him at the time.

  “This way,” the guard said, holding an open palm to point the way into the station.

  The line of officers parted to form a corridor but two of them took point, while the rest fell into step surrounding them with the squad leader bringing up the rear with two more guards.

  Natalya glanced at Zoya who simply pursed her lips and gave a little shrug.

  The detail marched in step and, once out of the docking bay, the corridor echoed with the cadence of their footfalls. Natalya found herself marching in step with them. Old habits die very hard.

  The walk took almost ten full ticks, ending at an airtight door with two more armed guards waiting. The new guards wore body armor and carried automatic weapons. Natalya eyed the guns and hoped they were loaded with glass instead of something armor-piercing that could rupture the hull.

  The guard on the right rapped three times on the door. It opened immediately, pushing out into the passageway, momentarily blocking the guard on the left before he managed to step out of the way.

  The guard on the inside, an older woman with graying hair and weary eyes, scanned the assembly. “Thank you for coming,” she said. “I’m Captain Adams. If you’ll follow me?” She stepped back from the door and the squad leader waved them forward.

  Panko led the way into the compartment. He nodded to the squad leader on the way by. The small smile playing over his lips seemed to puzzle the man. A frown wrinkled his brow. It was over in an instant as they stepped over the sill. The door thunked shut behind them.

  Captain Adams kept a smart pace down the corridor. It looked like any office complex Natalya had ever been in, down to the buffed flooring and the smell of brass polish. Each door sported a small plaque with a letter-number designation but no other identifying marks.

  The captain turned her head to one side to speak over her shoulder as she strode along. “We’re still waiting on one more participant. It shouldn’t be very much longer.” She stopped at a set of double doors, pulled one open, and ushered them into a nondescript room.

  A half dozen couches, easy chairs, and small tables with chairs huddled in various corners. The industrial beige color scheme from the corridor carried over to the furnishings. A neat coffee mess held pride of place just inside the door, alongside a glassed-in case.

  “Help yourselves to coffee, snacks. You’ll find pastries and sandwiches in the case. There’s hot water in the far urn and teas in the chest beside it. I can have a meal brought if you’d like something more substantial.”

  “Any idea how long this will take?” Panko asked.

  “Unfortunately, no. Generally these things take as long as they take.” Adams offered a crooked smile. “The more directors involved, the longer it takes. You’re in luck. There are only five today. Get comfy. Relax. I’ll be back for you shortly.”

  “Thank you,” Panko said as he started for the coffee mess.

  The captain stepped back out of the doorway and it closed with a click.

  “Aren’t they afraid we’ll steal the silver?” Natalya asked, eyeing the door.

  Panko shook his head and kept his gaze focused on his coffee. “The room is wired for sound and light and the door is locked.” He moved to the case, selected a pastry, and held it up for them to see. “Try these cinnamon rolls. Nice spice without all the sugar slathered on the top.”

  Zoya followed him down the line while Natalya stood considering the door. “You eat here often?”

  Panko laughed. “Not lately. No.”

  “But you recognize the cinnamon roll?”

  “I spent some time here between yard gigs.” He shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for a good cinnamon roll.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t get Sandra to make some of these for Rudy’s,” Natalya said, giving up on the door and joining them at the coffee mess.

  “I did,” he said. “You’ve probably tried the result. Hers are good but her idea of a cinnamon roll and mine didn’t quite mesh. She’s the owner. I’m the dishwasher. Was the dishwasher.”

  “Wonder who they’re waiting for,” Zoya said, snagging a roll from the case. “Somebody from Pulaski?”

  Panko rolled his shoulders in a shrug and settled into one of the couch groupings, placing his coffee on the chrome and glass table in the middle. “Maybe a director who’s coming from the far side of the station. Might be somebody from the yard. Not sure who they’d call from there unless it’s Alison.”

  The door opened and Brian Dorion walked in with Joe Allen on his heels.

  Natalya and Zoya both stood while Panko sat back with his coffee cup in both hands.

  “Ms. Regyri. Ms. Usoko.” Dorion frowned at them. “The rumors of your deaths seem to be somewhat unfounded.” He looked at Panko, the frown turning to a scowl. “Mr. Panko? Care to explain?”

  “Hello, Brian. Long time, no see.”

  Dorion’s scowl deepened. “We heard that these women were dead.”

  “Not from me, you didn’t.”

  “Bullshit. You’re the one who told Pittman.”

  “What I told Alison—on a secured channel, by the way—was that there was nobody on the ship.”

  “Then where did they come from?” Dorion loomed over Panko.

  Panko didn’t seem overly concerned. “They came from the ship. They happened to be on my bridge when the call went through. So, when Alison asked, I told her there was no one on the ship, because they weren’t. They were on mine.” He sipped his coffee and looked up at Dorion for a mome
nt before looking at Allen. “Hey, Joe.”

  “Ernst,” Allen said with a little head nod in greeting.

  Panko looked back at Dorion. “Now the interesting question to me is who told you they were dead?”

  Dorion settled back on his heels, the frown shifting to a look of puzzlement, his eyes blinking rapidly and his gaze focused elsewhere. “My office got a message from the yards. The space trials for the ship went belly up, the ship jumped out but nobody came back with it.”

  “Yeah. I gathered that,” Panko said. “But the only people who know what happened are in this room. The only message we sent was to Alison. Unless Alison has suddenly gotten loose with her comms, somebody else got some bad data.” He nodded at the coffee mess. “Good coffee, Joe.”

  “Thanks. I have a team who handles it. You’d be amazed how entitled directors can be.” Allen grinned and looked at Natalya. “How are you doing, Ms. Regyri?”

  “We’re fine. The ride was a bit wonky but we managed to bring it back. With a little help.” She nodded at Panko. “Zoya’s the star. She got the plots and piloting. I was just along for the ride.”

  Allen turned his gaze on Zoya. “Nice bit of work. Having the ship to tear down should answer a lot of questions.”

  “I’m sure, but I was mostly concerned with getting myself back, sir.” She smiled at him.

  “Call me Joe,” Allen said. “At least here. We’ll be getting the inquest underway in a few moments.”

  Zoya nodded.

  The door opened again and closed behind a distraught-looking Alison Pittman. She crossed the room in a few strides and gave the two women a hug. “Zoya? Natalya? What’s going on?”

  “Well, we brought your ship back,” Natalya said.

  “It’s a little banged up but luckily we wore our long underwear,” Zoya said, hugging Pittman back.

  Pittman rounded on Panko and gave him a kick in the leg.

  “Hey! What’s that for?” he asked, holding his cup out to keep from spilling it. “I got them back, didn’t I?”

  “You told me they were dead!” she said, practically shouting into his face.

  “No, I told you the ship was empty. It was.”

  “Why would you do such a thing? I’ve been beside myself. Blaming myself for their deaths by letting them take that jump-capable coffin out.”

  Allen shifted his feet and stuck his hands in his trouser pockets. “Jump-capable coffin?”

  Pittman seemed to notice Dorion and Allen for the first time. “Sorry, Mr. Allen. It’s what the first test pilot called it.”

  “We’ll try not to say that where the directors can hear, won’t we?” Allen’s face softened into a smile. “Although it has a certain ring to it.”

  The door opened and Captain Adams held it wide. “They’re ready for you.”

  Panko stuck the last of the cinnamon roll into his mouth and washed it down with the last swig of coffee before getting up. “Pity. I bet the chairs won’t be as comfortable.”

  Allen snorted and Zoya chuckled. Dorion just glowered at him.

  Natalya stepped between the two men and looked into Dorion’s face. “He’s not the bad guy here, Brian.”

  Dorion’s jaw clenched as he shot one last venomous glare at Panko before heading for the door.

  “What’s his problem?” Zoya asked.

  “He thought you were dead and that Ernst lied,” Allen said. “Which you did, Ernst, if only through omission. Why?”

  “Because there are people who are trying to kill them,” Panko said. “The fewer people who know they’re alive, the safer they are.”

  Allen’s eyes tightened just the tiniest amount. Then he pursed his lips and glanced at Zoya and Natalya. “Fair enough. Shall we go?”

  Panko led the parade out of the lounge and into the conference room across the hall.

  Across one end of the room ran a long table with five people sitting behind it. If Natalya hadn’t known before she got there, their appearances would have screamed money. Hair coiffed just so. Clothing that looked like it came from a fashion newsie. A couple of the younger men sported what she thought of as ‘the fashionable scruff’ on their faces—as if to prove they were old enough to grow it and high enough on the food chain to flaunt it. The two women looked like they wore no makeup at all, except nobody looked that perfect without it. She wondered if they employed personal makeup artists and how long it took each day to make themselves look like that.

  Joe Allen took the only empty place behind the table while Captain Adams escorted Panko, Natalya, and Zoya to the front of the room where they sat in chairs facing the panel. Pittman and Dorion took seats a couple of rows back from the front.

  Allen nodded to Captain Adams, who closed the door with a thump.

  “Right, then,” Allen said. “Recording is active. I hereby convene the inquest into the circumstances of the ship designated Echo One on 2366, May 30 and 31. I am CEO Joseph Allen, presiding.” He turned to his right and leaned forward to look at the man on the end.

  “My name is Anthony Frobisher. I am a director at large.” He settled back and looked to his right.

  The woman sitting there said, “My name is Theresa May Caldicott. I am the vice-director of the Data Services Division.”

  The next man in line said, “My name is Malachai Vagrant. I am the vice-director for Communications Systems.”

  Allen turned to the man immediately to his left.

  “I’m Clarence Wallace, director of Space Operations for Ravaine.”

  The next man said, “William Bixby. Assistant director at large.”

  The woman at the end of the row said, “Magda Orlofski. Vice-director for Financial Planning.”

  Allen nodded. “Thank you.” He looked at the three sitting in front. “Would each of you state your names and positions for the record? Mr. Panko?”

  “My name is Ernst Panko. I am the captain of the courier Serendipity and currently serving as lead designer for Pulaski Yards’ new ship production.”

  The directors behind the table seemed surprised at that. Orlofski and Bixby put their heads almost together and began some kind of whispering conversation. Vagrant simply stared at Panko, a slight crease on his forehead.

  “Ms. Usoko?” Allen said.

  “I’m Zoya Usoko. I was the pilot for this test run.” Zoya glanced at Natalya.

  “I’m Natalya Regyri. I’m captain of the Scout Peregrine and served as engineering officer for the test run.”

  Allen nodded again. “Thank you. Mr. Panko, what was your role in this situation?”

  “I flew chase for the new ship.”

  As Caldicott leaned forward, a small silvery lapel pin on her tastefully tailored jacket blinked in the lights in the overhead. “Can you explain what that role entails, Mr. Panko.”

  “I followed the ship in case something went wrong and the crew needed to be taken off,” Panko said.

  “That didn’t work out very well for you, did it, Panko?” Vagrant said, his eyes hard but not quite a glare.

  “No, sir. Not exactly. On the upside, we got the ship back along with the crew. On the downside, we don’t know who’s behind the sabotage—or why.”

  Allen looked left and right. All the directors leaned back in their chairs. “Ms. Usoko, to the best of your recollection and ability, please describe the situation starting from the outer markers at Pulaski Yards.”

  Zoya’s head bobbed in a gesture that might have been an acknowledgment. “Without the logs for reference, I may have some of the actual time-stamps wrong. We got underway at approximately 0900. The logs should show the exact time. We cleared the outer marker and began our speed run.” Zoya’s recitation took only a few ticks. The panel sat in silence, their expressions giving away nothing. “When we met up with Serendipity, we powered the ship down to reduce the chance that something else would put the ship at risk again. Serendipity took us in tow and jumped us back to Ravaine.” She nodded at Allen.

  “Thank you, Ms. Usoko. Mr. Panko, how
is it your ship has the power harness to jump the courier?”

  “It’s built on a jump-capable tug’s frame. It was easier to strip down the old ship and build what I wanted on top of the spaceframe. Never know when you need to drag somebody out of a hole.”

  “You didn’t build your ship from scratch, then?” Allen asked.

  “No, sir. The keel, grapples, and the deck frame all come from a derelict tug I got at The Junkyard. I cut it back, melted the surplus metals, and added a few things of my own.”

  “Like a power train?” Allen asked.

  “A power train, an office, my stateroom, and a cockpit modeled after the old Explorer Scouts. I also added an extra-large head. Since I live aboard, I wanted to make it comfortable.”

  Allen looked up and down the table. “Anybody have a question?”

  “I do,” Vagrant said.

  “Go ahead.”

  “Why aren’t you dead?” He leaned forward staring at Natalya, laying his palms on the table.

  “Why would we be?” Natalya asked.

  “According to your story—and I take it you and Ms. Usoko are in agreement about this preposterous tale—but according to her, you lost control of your ship, vented all the atmosphere, jumped into the Deep Dark somewhere, and then jumped back into a holding location instead of coming all the way back to Ravaine.” Vagrant’s face had turned just the tiniest bit red during his tirade. He glared at Natalya.

  After a few heartbeats, Natalya said, “Well, mostly. Except for the ‘lost control’ part. The ship’s computer hijacked us. Is there a question?”

  His nostrils flared and he pulled in a deep breath before Allen held up a hand to get Vagrant’s attention.

  “I didn’t hear a question either, Malachai. What is it you want to know?”

  Vagrant sat back in his chair and folded his arms. “I want to know what really happened.”

  Allen raised an eyebrow in Vagrant’s direction. “You’re calling them liars?”

  “I’m just saying none of it makes sense.”

  Panko raised a hand. “If I may...?”