Coalescence (Dragonfire Station Book 3)

by Zen DiPietro

  “Hi,” Fallon said, stepping back so Wren could enter.

  “Aha, I surprised you. I like that.”

  “Something wrong?”

  “No. I just wanted to see you. You’ve been gone more than a week. But it looks like I might have woken you up. I can go.”

  Wren had seen her in her lounge clothes before, so that didn’t bother Fallon. “It’s fine. Come in, have a seat.”

  Once settled, Wren asked, “Did your trip go well?”

  “I can’t talk about that.”

  “Right. Then…are you well?”

  Fallon wasn’t sure how to answer that. “All systems functioning.”

  Wren smiled. “That’s good to hear. Actually, that’s probably the ideal answer to that question, when the person doing the asking is a mechanic.”

  “Fix anything fun while I was gone?”

  “No, only the usual. Scheduled maintenance, a burned-out coil pack here and there from reckless use. Nothing interesting.”

  Fallon racked her brain for something else to say. “At least Endra’s on board for you to hang out with.”

  “Yes. She told me they were making this their home port, which works great for me. They’re preparing to leave for a distress call, though.”

  Fallon frowned. “Yes. Captain Nevitt told me about that.”

  A small cruiser had encountered some trouble, and the hospi-ship was the best-equipped vessel in the area to make sure the occupants got the care they needed. They’d also be able to tow the ship back, if needed. Such emergencies were common out in the void of space. The cruiser was lucky to have a hospi-ship in such proximity.

  “I hope the crew’s okay.”

  “Me too.”

  Wren stood. “I should let you get to sleep. You must be tired.”

  Fallon’s goodbye before her departure to PAC command went unmentioned, but she knew Wren had to be wondering about it.

  “I’m glad you came by.” Fallon followed her to the door.

  Wren smiled and kissed her cheek. “Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Wren’s playfulness ignited. She gave Fallon a jaunty grin. “Count on it.” She retreated down the concourse with a spring in her step.

  Fallon watched her until she was out of sight.

  In the morning, Fallon got up early for her regular workout. She’d arranged to meet Brak for a run.

  When she stepped out of her quarters, though, she saw Raptor leaning against the wall of the concourse, waiting.

  “Good morning.” He wore workout attire.

  “Morning. What’s up?”

  “Thought I’d run with you today.”

  “Sure. Brak’s going to be there too, so I hope you’re ready to work.” She set off toward the lift.

  “She didn’t go with the Onari?”

  “No. Said she’d serve no purpose and she might as well remain here. She’s set up a small lab in her quarters. I need to find her a better space for it. She can always use her lab on the ship when it’s docked, but it would be nice if she could work independently of the ship’s flight schedule.”

  “Think that’ll happen a lot? I somehow think of her and the ship as a package deal.” He sounded surprised.

  “Yeah, me too. But it would be an advantage to her to have a larger space for her work. She could even take on some interns, which would allow her to create more prosthetics in a shorter amount of time.”

  “Well, that’s great. I’m glad things are working out for her. And glad she’ll be there this morning. I’ve always wanted to find out how I measure up to her at a run.”

  “Have you been avoiding me?” She hadn’t intended to ask that, but his sudden appearance had her wondering.

  “No. Not exactly.”

  “What then?” she asked.

  “Nothing. Just giving us space. Time.”

  “Hm,” she said. “The space-time solution. How’s it working?”

  “Fine for me. How’s it working for you?”

  “Fine.” Good, actually. Despite the escalation of their relationship, she didn’t feel cornered. “You’re a smart man,” she admitted.

  “Why, thank you. I’ve been waiting years for you to notice.”

  She snorted and bumped him with her elbow. He returned the bump, harder, causing her to sway to the opposite side. She shoved back with her shoulder to do the same to him.

  “You’d better quit before we start fighting right here on the concourse,” he warned her.

  “You’d better quit,” she argued, grinning.

  “I hope you’re ready to run hard today.”

  “Hah. I’ve been running with Brak for a while now. If you’re looking for a competition, be prepared to lose.”

  They continued their trash talk all the way to the gym.

  By the end of their run, they were both sweaty and bruised. Fallon considered it the best date of her life. Even if it hadn’t really been a date.

  She smelled the sweet musk of Brak’s amusement.

  “Are you two always like this?” she asked.

  “Always,” Raptor affirmed.

  “Pretty much,” Fallon admitted.

  “I don’t think two humans ever reminded me so much of my own people.”

  Fallon pursed her lips as she thought about that. “Considering that you left home, I’m trying to decide if that’s a compliment or not.”

  Brak tilted her head in a very Briveen gesture of humor. “Partly. Partly not. But pleasantly nostalgic, nonetheless.”

  “I’ll be proud of that, then.” Raptor winked before entering the men’s locker room.

  Brak and Fallon went into the women’s room together and began to strip down for showers.

  “May I ask a personal question?” Brak asked.

  “Sure.”

  “Why do PAC facilities divide locker rooms and restrooms based on gender?”

  That was not at all what Fallon had expected. “I take it Briveen facilities are all unisex?”

  “Yes. We don’t segregate normal functions like eating or bathing.”

  “Well, most species eat together because they consider it a social thing. Some people feel like personal care is a private thing, though. It’s long been PAC tradition to have a male, a female, and a neither facility. It’s the best shot at providing comfort for the biggest variety of people.”

  “It’s always seemed inefficient to me,” Brak said as she wrapped a towel around herself.

  “Modesty certainly can be, but it’s a social convention, and they can be extremely ungainly.”

  Brak nodded with understanding. “Ah. Yes, like the Briveen’s penchant for rituals. It’s a wonder my people get anything done.”

  “I’ve wondered about that,” Fallon admitted. “Do people ever dodge one another just to avoid the rituals involved?”

  Brak looked nostalgic, even as Fallon smelled a hint of sweet, musky amusement. “Sometimes.”

  Fallon didn’t press further, since Brak said no more. She knew Brak was very private about her life on Briv and didn’t want to pry.

  After they had their showers and dressed, Brak closed her locker and paused. “You and Raptor have an unusual relationship. For humans.”

  “Neither one of us is a typical human. I guess it makes sense that we’d be as odd together as we are separately. Maybe even more so.” Fallon zipped up her tote bag and slung it over her shoulder. Brak looked like she wanted to say something else, but she didn’t. Fallon knew that Brak must smell how she and Raptor felt about each other, and it might raise a lot of questions.

  But Brak didn’t pry either. And Fallon had an idea to tuck away for later use.

  Fallon was doing her daily rounds on the boardwalk when all hell broke loose. When an emergency alert came through on her comport, she turned and ran. Fortunately, the brig was part of the Deck One security office, so she didn’t have far to go. She flew through the door and bolted past the security checkpoints, which all hung open and unstaffe
d.

  She came to a skidding stop in front of the highest-security brig cell. The one she’d assigned to Colb. It stood empty, other than three of her security lieutenants staring upward in shock, where a neat hole had been surgically cut out of the ceiling.

  “Report!” she ordered.

  Lieutenant Mat Jenson pulled himself together. “We had him on continuous video monitoring and ten-minute physical checks, as ordered. Between one check and the next he disappeared.”

  “Halt all departures and arrivals. Lock down all decks. No one without alpha-one clearance leaves their deck. Advise all personnel to remain where they are.”

  Arin burst in. “Brief the legate,” she continued. “Arin, report to the captain when you’re up to speed. I’ll keep you posted.”

  She ran for the lift. On the way, she used her comport to reach her team and bark out terse orders.

  By the time she arrived at her office, her team was already inside. Peregrine sat, straight-backed, on the couch while Ross and Hawk paced. Any other time, she’d have complained about Raptor breaking through her security, but in this case she was glad he was already working on the problem.

  “What do you see?”

  “I’m isolating the Deck One office and brig’s electrical systems and all components leading to that area,” Raptor reported, his words clipped.

  She wished she had a second hardlined voicecom display so she could work too. This was her station, and she didn’t want to stand around. But Raptor was the best, and she had to leave it to him.

  “There,” Raptor muttered.

  She waited for him to say more, but he only feverishly entered commands. Each time he swore, her anxiety rose.

  Finally his fingers stopped their frantic activity and he pressed a hand to his temple, staring at the screen.

  “What?” she demanded, moving to stand behind him.

  “Two hours ago, someone wired the feed of a different cell to the circuit that was being monitored for Colb, which kept it from alerting anyone. Then they programmed a recurring loop of video, showing him sleeping. Someone cut through the bulkhead above his cell, bored a hole into the force field, and pulled him out.”

  Precious few people would have the tools and the skills to do such a thing.

  The room went still. Quietly, Fallon asked, “How many ships have departed in the past fifteen minutes?”

  Raptor’s voice was equally quiet. “Two.”

  “Was either of them fast enough that we won’t be able to find it?”

  “One of them was.”

  “Then that was his ship.” Her words fell like rocks.

  They all stood frozen. Even Hawk was stunned silent. It was impossible. They’d put every security precaution into place.

  Finally, Peregrine spoke the words they were all thinking. There was no other conclusion, since Fallon and Raptor had locked Dragonfire down so tightly that even the Ghost himself couldn’t sneak in. They’d also been vigilant about investigating every person they allowed on the station.

  “We lost him. And it was an inside job.”

  They searched every floor, scanned every conduit. Then they crawled through the triple-reinforced conduit above the brig’s holding cell. Fallon peered through the hole, down to the empty cell below. The tools it would have taken to do that and to create an opening in the force field could be nothing but Blackout issue.

  Which begged the question: Who was helping Colb? Maybe someone backed by a rival government? Was the traitor a member of the other half of Blackout? A double agent? Fallon had no answers. Everyone on Dragonfire had been accounted for. As far as they could tell, no one had left with Colb. Which meant Colb’s ally was still on the station.

  Once they’d done everything they could, her team, along with the captain, gathered in her office and sat in silence. Fallon knew exactly why no one spoke. Once they did, they’d have to start pointing fingers.

  This job had required access, skills, and Blackout tech. That meant the only people on the station who could have pulled off this jailbreak were the five members of Blackout.

  After an exhausting conversation, Fallon dismissed everyone, including Hesta, from her office. They’d somehow managed to avoid speaking of the thing they all knew but didn’t want to discuss. They’d focused instead on managing this situation for the citizens of Dragonfire.

  Fallon had appearances to keep up and upset people to soothe. As the chief of security, most of this job landed squarely on her shoulders.

  She made a station-wide announcement about a fictitious training drill and praised the security team as well as the residents of the station. She extolled the virtues of such a well-protected station and assured them of her continued confidence in its safety.

  Her security staff knew it was bullshit. They’d done plenty of drills in the past but never anything like this. And though she’d ordered the staff aware of Colb’s escape to say nothing to anyone, she knew they had many, many questions. But they followed her orders, and several of her more senior officers made themselves conspicuous in public, smiling and making people feel safe.

  She would have done the same, but it would have been too much. Too obvious. So she remained in her office until the end of her shift, which was what she’d do on a normal day. But inside, she seethed.

  Logic and her training both demanded that she consider Hawk, Peregrine, and Raptor as suspects. But to do so would break something in her she’d never get back. She couldn’t doubt them any more than she could doubt her own innocence.

  Outside of her team, who could she trust? Brak? If Brak wanted Fallon dead, she would have died during her brain surgery, and no one would have been suspicious. So Brak was unlikely to be an adversary. Still, Brak had been in contact with Krazinski early on, and those interactions had been part of what had made her believe Krazinski was the one behind it all. And she had the skill to manufacture the things that had been in development at that secret lab.

  Nevitt’s treatment of Fallon had changed drastically several months ago. Cold resentment had turned into eager participation in a rebellion. What if Nevitt hadn’t been helping her, but setting her up by letting her think she’d created a safe hideout?

  What about Ross? He’d been in on Avian Unit’s inner workings. Had he taken incredible risks to gain their trust?

  Fallon didn’t want to pace her quarters, so she walked the station instead. She took a slow, ponderous tour of each deck while she played devil’s advocate to every instinct she had. When she found herself passing Wren’s quarters, she paused. Maybe the one person she could trust was the one person she’d trusted before, when she’d had no memory.

  All roads led to Wren.

  So she rang the chime and before she could change her mind, Wren answered the door.

  “This is a nice surprise. Come in.”

  She followed Wren in. “You changed the color.” The walls were now a bright, sunny yellow.

  “I needed something different. Something happy. You know?”

  “Yeah.” She did.

  “You okay?” Wren’s face was pinched with concern.

  “Fine. Why?”

  “I can tell when something’s bothering you.”

  Fallon relaxed her face, her shoulders, and told the rest of her body to do the same. “I’m fine.”

  Despite her wishes, her instinct told her not to tell Wren the truth. Fallon’s instinct had served her well, and though it was contrary to what she wanted, she wasn’t about to ignore her gut.

  “Okay. Good.” Wren brightened. “I was going to watch a holo-vid. Want to join me?”

  “You didn’t have a date tonight?” Fallon forced humor into her eyes, though she didn’t feel the least bit lighthearted.

  “Nah, I was tired. Wanted a night in. I was thinking I might put on some classic vid and fall asleep watching it.”

  “I’m tired too, actually. A holo-vid would be great some other night.”

  “Did the drill today create a lot of extra work?” Wre
n looked sympathetic.

  “Yeah, it did.”

  “How about a drink? I can tell you about the engine manifold I worked on today, then you can finish your drink and run away before I even get to the part about the switch gaskets.”

  Fallon smiled. “That sounds about right, actually.”

  So she sipped a Zerellian ale, listened to some technobabble, and let it distract her slightly. Afterward she gave Wren a light kiss and returned to her quarters.

  Somehow she knew that Raptor wouldn’t visit her that night. She wouldn’t visit him, either. Each knew that the other should be considering them as a possible traitor. She already knew she couldn’t do that, but maybe he was a better BlackOp than she was. She’d give him room, just in case.

  “In the end, a spy is always alone.” She turned off the lights and pulled the blanket up to her chin.

  It was the last line in a book she’d enjoyed as a teen. For the first time, she truly understood it.

  When Fallon woke up the next morning her situation was the same, and she felt no better about it. But she still had a job to do.

  She went for her morning run with Brak. She reported to Nevitt. She worked through security diagnostics and protocols and continued her search for the meaning of “put your head to the ground.”

  She’d exhausted all linguistic databases and come up with only two matches, but neither seemed applicable to her situation, even in the most abstract sense. So she continued to search for phrases that involved “head” or “ground.”

  Stomping ground, covering ground, shaky ground, common ground. Head of state, head of security, department head, head of the line, head over heels, kick in the head.

  He could have meant her head specifically. It had been through a significant experience. If Krazinski had been referencing her injury, though, what did he mean by putting her head to the ground?

  She blew out a breath and went back to the beginning. To the message on the chip.

  Krazinski wanted her to figure out what he’d said. He wanted her to join up with the rest of PAC command. Maybe he was genuine, and maybe it was a trap, but either way, this was a puzzle he intended for her to solve.