Suicide Run Read online

  The Suicide Run

  Stories from the Chaos Shift Cycle, Book 1

  TR Cameron

  MD Press

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Trespassers - Chapter 1

  About the Author

  Also by TR Cameron

  Chapter 1

  Cadet Anderson Cross squinted until the target came into focus. He dropped his crosshairs on center mass. Taking a deep breath, he held it. The stakes were immense. He couldn’t afford to fail. With a slight flick, he launched the missile to meet its destiny.

  The dart flew true for the first half of its course. Then it ran into the game's gravitic field and swerved right. It came to rest piercing the double ring of 2 Mark. The small crowd, watching him fail yet again, cheered in good-natured ridicule. Cross raised his face and arms to the ceiling as if beseeching the spirits for a single moment of fair play. More laughter rolled over him. He let his arms fall and approached his adversary, Kate Flynn, who was holding out a small cup of amber liquid to him.

  "I don't think that’ll help matters," Cross said, taking the glass anyway. He mimicked Kate's posture, leaning against the bar.

  "Too bad. Rules are rules. Plus, they're your rules." That she was completely correct didn’t make matters any better.

  He acknowledged her comments by raising the glass. He took his first sip, feeling the burn and the warmth that followed. "Terms of honorable surrender?" He adopted a lost puppy dog look as he asked the question.

  "Not a chance, Cross. What was it you said? Oh, I remember now, 'A pale slip of a girl like you could never defeat a real man in a time-honored game of darts?'"

  He winced. That actually sounded like something he’d say while trying to provoke Kate. "I'm sure you're mistaken." Surely, that slight sibilant slur on the last word was just in his mind. This was only his third, no wait, fifth penalty drink for a lost round. He shook his head at both of the Kates in his suddenly swimming vision. "Just put me out of my misery, won't you?"

  He watched her walk up to the firing line. As always, her abundant red hair and snowy skin stood out in the crowd of cadets, making her easy to track as she flowed through the room. The bar, limited to those cadets in their final year of the Academy, was all polished steel and white plastic. Rumor had it that they cleaned the place by turning it into an autoclave each night, burning away anything and anyone unfortunate or stupid enough to remain after hours. Cross figured this was just one of the many crazy stories that circulated among the students, but then again it had never been convincingly shown to be false either. In any case, and fortunately for him, it stocked a much better quality and variety of brain-cell-killing liquids than the hangouts available during a cadet's first three years at the Academy.

  Kate reached the line and took up her weapon. She made a show of aiming, earning herself a wave of chuckles from the crowd and a theatrical scowl from Cross. She twisted to meet his eyes, gave him a small grin, then turned back and tossed the dart in one fluid motion. Her projectile spiraled strangely, a combination of English on the toss and the influence of the gravitic currents, and curved in to nail the bull's-eye. The same small crowd that had cheered his ineptitude cheered Kate's success. "The winner and still champion," she said, accepting high-fives on her way back to the table.

  "One of these days, Kate, I will win a round of this game. You just watch."

  "No you're not, but definitely keep trying. Our friends are always glad to reap the fruits of your lost bets."

  Cross waved at the bartender, who already knew what was coming from long practice and was waiting for the signal. "Free drinks for the seniors, on Cadet Cross" he announced. A disorderly rush toward the bar greeted the announcement, and Kate and Cross were displaced by the press of eager drunkards. They conquered a table in the corner, sitting close to be heard over the hubbub of their boisterous classmates.

  Chapter 2

  Kate continued needling him as they got comfortable. "You're just going to have to accept that sometimes other people are better than you at some things. Well, let's be honest, most things." Kate patted his arm in consolation.

  "Not a chance."

  Kate laughed at the false bravado, and Cross had a moment of reflection. She's got a really nice laugh.

  It wasn't the first time he’d thought something along those lines about Kate. They were like two planets locked in a mutual orbit, always within sight of each other, but never quite at the same place at the same time. While he’d sampled a wide variety of short-term partnerships at the Academy, Kate was far more selective. When she chose someone, it tended to last for a while, and whenever it ended, she seemed to feel no pressure to restart the cycle. She just... flowed.

  Okay. No more drinks. Next thing you know, I'll be reciting poetry and hearing birds sing.

  He realized that she was speaking again.

  "... seems clear you won’t win at darts." He had to admit that she was correct. She had his number on that one.

  "Then I think it's time we change the game to something that doesn't give you an unfair advantage."

  Kate laughed that laugh again. "That's what you said about poker. And about discs. And about that other stupid game you were 'unbeatable' at."

  Cross sat up straighter, the idea blossoming. "You're better at bar games. I admit it. So how about something a little different?"

  Kate raised an eyebrow at him, but didn't reply. He pressed on, "The suicide run."

  Kate wobbled the tiniest bit as she leaned in to make sure she wouldn't be overheard. "Let's ignore for a moment all the rules we’d break using the combat simulators to settle a bar bet." She waved her arm as if pushing them aside. "You know there's no chance of you ever actually outflying me, right? Do you really want to experience that level of humiliation?"

  "You've already lost, you just don't know it yet. Name your stakes."

  "You're going to bleed for this, Cross."

  Chapter 3

  The attack on the Lubyanka, referred to universally by experienced and disgruntled cadets as the Suicide Run, was one of the most challenging scenarios that officers-to-be faced during their academy training. It recreated one of the United Atlantic League' s most lopsided defeats. The Union forces were outnumbered in every category of the table of organization and equipment. The scenario required the cadets to fight a delaying action to protect the escape of their transport and support ships. There was no chance of victory over the Alliance forces, and it served as a grim reality check for cocky, young pilots. It earned its nickname from pilots, who failed to defeat the scenario after several tries, smashing their fighters into the Lubyanka's shields in order to end the simulation. Unfortunately, that didn't bring success either.

  Fleeing a battle wasn’t something the cadets could envision themselves doing when they arrived at the Academy. The attack on the Lubyanka taught them otherwise. For some it took multiple tries before they’d believe in the inevitability of defeat. Both Cross and Kate had run the simulation more than once.

  They met at midnight, slightly less than an hour after they left the bar. In their dark uniforms, they blended into the night. With an appreciative glance, Cross noted how hers clung to her athletic form, showing that she possessed all the right curves in all the right places. Banishing such impure thoughts from his mind, he motioned for her to take the lead. The gentlemanly gesture had nothing to do with watching her from behind. Because that would be wrong.

  Kate crept forward, keeping low, staying under the level of windows cut into doorways as they moved through
the classroom complex. There was no way to predict which rooms might have study groups, experiments, or insomniac instructors preparing for the next day. It was safer just to avoid notice. Cameras swept in predictable patterns, and Kate avoided detection with impeccable timing.

  Cross was impressed. He couldn't have done it better himself. However, the simulator training room was just outside the hangar where the ships detailed to the Academy were housed, and security would be tighter as they got closer. That could prove to be a challenge for either of them. Kate stopped, raising a fist. She cocked her head, listening, then moved to the nearest classroom door. Kate pulled it open just enough, yanking him in with her. She closed the door behind them just as a security patrol walked by in the hallway.

  "That was close," Cross whispered.

  "Nah. First-years. Noisy enough to guarantee they never have to encounter trouble. Trouble would just wait for them to pass and continue on. Exactly like we're going to do."

  He nodded. They stepped out into the hallway again and resumed their stealthy progress. Three more patrols proved equally adept at avoiding trouble. Soon, they were outside the entrance to the high-security wing of the Academy. She motioned for him to hide behind the vacant security position while she stooped beneath a small window. She raised a small mirror, assessing the situation. Again Cross enjoyed the fit of her uniform as she returned. And again, he shoved such impure thoughts away. They didn't go quite as far away this time.

  "Here's the deal. The duty roster shows there are two security patrols inside–."

  "How did you get a copy of the duty roster?"

  "That’s totally unimportant right now, Cross." She shook her head at him. He admired the way her hair shimmered in the low light. "As I was saying, two security patrols that should be easy to avoid as long as we’re quick. The problem will be if there’s any activity around the hangar. We can't predict that."

  He gave her a predictably overconfident grin. "I've got a solution for that. You time the security patrols. If we run into trouble, I'll take the lead."

  Kate's doubts showed on her face, but she led them into the high-security area anyway. The two were able to avoid the security patrols, which stayed conveniently on their mandated schedules. Soon they were crouched outside the door leading to the flight area.

  "I don't see anyone." Kate flicked the mirror closed and stored it back in the small pocket on her upper arm.

  "Then let's go." Cross stood and opened the door, striding through as if he belonged there. Kate scrambled to follow.

  The security guard stationed around a blind corner held a contrary opinion on the subject of his belonging. "Cross, you know you can't be here again." He sounded as if he’d given the same line a hundred times before.

  "James! Keeping us safe from Alliance spies seeking to take over the Academy, and as always doing a spectacular job of it." Cross walked forward and clasped hands with the man. "Do we really have to go through the whole thing again?"

  "Yes."

  Cross snapped to attention. "I have orders to practice in the simulator, signed by Captain Smithee." Cross produced a piece of printed paper and handed it over. The guard made a show of reviewing it. "Your paperwork seems in order, Cadet Cross. If this was a facsimile displayed with the intentions gaining access to a secure location without orders, you’d be subject to a special court-martial, but only after a very violent apprehension." He glared at Cross and Kate, who entirely failed to flinch. "Fortunately for you, everything appears to be in order." The guard returned the form and waved them forward.

  Once they were out of earshot, Cross confided, "I may have come down here after hours once or twice."

  "And apparently not alone," said Kate, who’d received only passing attention from the guard, a fact which appeared to irritate her.

  Cross had the decency to blush. A little. "That’s a possibility."

  He pushed on the door to the simulator room, which opened with a slight hiss of escaping atmosphere, and swung it open for her.

  Kate looked at him. "Last chance to avoid humiliation, flyboy."

  The cocky grin animated his face. "After you, Cadet Flynn." He swung the door wide and bowed with his arm outstretched. "Your carriage awaits."

  "You're an idiot, Cross."

  He laughed and followed her into the room.

  Chapter 4

  The simulator room was home to sixteen squat rectangles, black against the black walls and the dark carpet. A soft uneven glow illuminated the space. Kate and Cross headed for the simulator control panel in the corner. Kate got there first and activated the system. "No one else is running a simulation at the moment, so we have our choice of boxes. Preference?"

  "Lady's choice."

  Kate shook her head and activated the first two simulators. "You're in two, I'm in one."

  As they came to life, circuitry glowed on the exterior of the simulators, throwing even more dramatic shadows around the space. Kate emerged from one of those shadows, gathering her hair into a low ponytail. She climbed into the simulator and snagged the control helmet hanging inside. The seat within adjusted to support her, so familiar she hardly noticed it. Kate cursed in a whisper as she pulled her helmet down, rocking it slightly to get proper contact.

  Cross, his eyes locked on her before climbing into his own simulator, pointed out in a helpful tone, "You know, if you just cut all that hair off, the sensors could connect better."

  "You sound like Sergeant Thomas. I'm not cutting my hair for simulators. This kind of beauty," she said as she released the properly positioned helmet and gestured to encompass all of her, "needs to be preserved."

  "I couldn't agree more." Cross's tone was playful, hiding that he was thinking of a different sort of play at that moment.

  "That's what the Sergeant says too. I think she likes me."

  The image of Kate and the statuesque Sergeant Mallory Thomas as a couple took his brain off-line for a moment, but he recovered quickly. "You're just lying to distract me."

  "Am I? Am I really? That would be truly nefarious. Not something that a sweet, beautiful, 'pale slip of a girl' like myself could possibly do," sarcasm flowed from her simulator and puddled on the floor.

  Cross snorted. "Of course." He climbed into his own simulator, pulling the helmet down over his ears. The interior was a perfect replica of a Falcon fighter. The control chair molded itself to his form as he reclined into the perfect position. He touched the single button that activated all the systems on the ship and rested his forearms on the arms, gripping a control stick in each hand. He was sure that in the other simulator, Kate was doing the same thing—the techniques and routines ingrained into them through countless hours of repetition.

  Each of them had flown the suicide run before as individuals; in fact, every cadet flew it at least once. The most bull-headed among them, more than once. Cross, six times so far. He was positive there was a way to defeat more of the Alliance ships while safeguarding his own fleet's escape.

  Kate had flown it eight times. Her approach was systematic, each sortie a test of a new theory, teaching her what didn't work as she sought the solution. She didn't share her experiences with anyone else, as the science nerd within her didn't want to present incomplete data. Some pilots liked to brag about their performance—how many ships they destroyed, how many enemies they'd killed. Kate didn't measure success by those same metrics. Participation in the battle meant that she’d already lost, so she focused instead on searching for solutions to better preserve her comrades.

  She took a deep, centering breath and toggled the intercom between their linked ships. "Red, all systems green. Ready to fly."

  Cross replied, "Ace, all systems green. Ready to fly."

  The computerized voice of the simulator responded, "Red, launch tube two. Ace, launch tube three. Launch in fifteen seconds." Internal displays flickered to life and counted down from fifteen. Within the simulator, their fighters appeared to descend and rotate into proper launch position.

 
"Last chance to back out, Red."

  "Not a chance. I’ll enjoy watching you explain to all the other cadets how you lost yet again while you're paying for their drinks—and their meals."

  His restraint belts compressed, turning his reply into a grunt as his Falcon shot down the launch tube and into the battle.

  Chapter 5

  Cross broke left and climbed, standard procedure from a tube three launch. He saw Kate mirror him, descending to the right as she cleared her launch tube. Both ships curved on a heading that would take them toward the Lubyanka, as a strafing run was the first requirement of the scenario.

  He opened ship-to-ship communication. "I'll take lead for the first pass. You're on my wing."

  "Affirmative."

  They both tracked toward the center as Kate formed up on his five. The Lubyanka was defended by a thick fighter screen that couldn't be avoided. It was more a test of survival than a time to rack up kills as the Falcons threaded the gauntlet between the fighters' weapons and the destroyer's guns. Cross's tactic was to keep his speed slow until the last second, then blast through the screen at top speed. He shared his plan with Kate in clipped tones, focused on the defenders ahead.

  The Lubyanka was gleaming newsteel, cutting-edge technology of the last generation of Alliance ships. Weapons’ ports bristled on all axes—primarily with energy weapons but there was also a mix of older ballistic weapons for use against other capital ships. He was in tones of gray with winking lights dotting his surface at irregular intervals. The ship was long, befitting his dual status as both a warship and an exploration vessel, designed for long trips through space. This made it the perfect target for strafing practice.