Lost Alliance (Dragonfire Station Books 1-3): A Galactic Empire series

by Zen DiPietro

  “What do you mean?”

  “Since you got married,” she said. “None of us ever expected to marry.”

  “Why Raptor in particular?” Fallon had a bad feeling about this line of questioning.

  Peregrine’s face betrayed nothing, which of itself betrayed something. “Since you two were always so close.”

  “Are you saying something was going on between him and me? Something more than partner behavior?” Fallon shifted one of the bags on her shoulder.

  “No. I just don’t know how things are to you, with that gap in your head. I’m trying to imagine it.”

  “I don’t feel weird with him, or any of you. I feel like I belong. Even though I don’t remember our history.” If it weren’t for all the things that had happened, she’d distrust that feeling of belonging. But given the way everything had played out, she felt lucky to have a team on her side. A family.

  “I’m glad.” Peregrine carefully stepped over an uneven spot in the walkway, pointing to it to make sure Fallon didn’t trip. “I don’t know what the rest of us would have done if you didn’t want to be part of Avian Unit. Or had a tough time trusting us.”

  She nodded her thanks for the trip-hazard warning. “Well, I sure don’t know. I’m just feeling lucky I have anyone on my side at this point.”

  Peregrine’s sad look said it all.

  “Hawk, will you be strong enough to leave tomorrow?” Fallon glanced from Hawk to Raptor.

  “Of course. What am I, a newborn lamb? Come on. I’m the Machine.”

  Peregrine smirked. “Right. You only came in here bleeding like a hunk of butcher meat. Why would you not be completely well?”

  “He’ll be okay,” Raptor said. “Just needs to take it easy and rest as much as possible for a few days.”

  Fallon nodded to Raptor. She trusted his medical opinion. “Then we’ll leave at checkout time. That’ll be the most crowded the transit stations and the elevator will get, and we’ll have the most cover. Just in case anyone’s looking.”

  “That leaves the remainder of the day to rest, to plan, and to reacquaint ourselves with one another,” Peregrine noted.

  Fallon talked as much as she listened in the subsequent hours, always hoping that something would jog out a memory, one that would confirm that her remark the night before had been an indicator of something. But no. Though she learned a great deal, particularly about the strengths and preferences of her teammates, she didn’t get a single feeling of déjà vu, or intuit anything she shouldn’t have known.

  Though disappointed about that, she felt comfortable with her team, and deeply gratified to have them. That might not seem like much to others, but for Fallon, it was everything.

  Late the next morning, Avian Unit packed up, paid their room bill, and got themselves to the elevator and up to the docking station. With some makeup, wigs, and clothing, Peregrine made them all into different people. Each of them walked alone, but within sight of the others, with all now equipped with a new comport.

  They arrived on the docking station without incident, though none of them would be able to relax until they’d boarded their ship. Fallon piloted Dragonfire’s class-six. They left behind the small but speedy ship Raptor and Hawk had stolen. A shame to lose it, but the thing was tainted goods. Nothing positive could come from keeping an association with it.

  They’d paid a month-long docking fee on Dineb, along with some extra cubics to keep the stolen ship’s registry number off the records. Before that time was up, Hawk would contact an acquaintance who could make sure no one at the PAC ever associated the ship with Dineb. That left them able to put Dineb, as well as the team’s separation, behind them.

  Their destination was a definite, though calculated, risk. Raptor had looked like he wanted to argue when she announced her plan, but he’d said nothing. She appreciated that. She just hoped it didn’t come back around and bite her in the ass.

  Space on the shuttle had been tight for two, and for four, it was truly unpleasant. They took turns sitting in the two chairs. Fallon sat on the floor with her back against the bulkhead and her knees drawn up to her chin. Hawk kept bumping into things, then cursing prodigiously.

  When Dragonfire Station came into visual range, they all sighed with relief. Fallon patched into the station’s security feeds and worked her magic, ensuring that their approach went unnoticed. At least for anyone not looking for it. She’d told Captain Nevitt what to watch for.

  Fallon docked the shuttle right where Raptor had docked his ultralight, then led her team through the station. After a short but exciting journey that included a close call with a mechanic, she led them to a cargo bay that would go unused that day. Closed for maintenance.

  She signaled their presence to Nevitt, then sent another message and prepared to wait.

  Only twenty minutes later, Cabot Layne arrived.

  “Chief. So good to see you back. And you’ve brought friends.” Cabot surveyed each of her teammates in turn with a shrewd gaze. She was pretty sure he knew exactly what they were, and that they’d gone off book.

  He gave her a deep bow, which she returned, then extended his hands. A gesture reserved for close relationships. She accepted, wrapping her fingers around his. They were in it together now.

  “I need your help,” she said, watching him intently. He didn’t bat an eye.

  “What do you need?”

  “A ship. Big enough to get four people halfway to the Zerellian system. Fast enough to do it within a day.”

  Cabot nodded, as if such a request were perfectly commonplace. “I see. Is there a monetary restriction?”

  “None.”

  His eyes sparkled and a smile curled the corners of his mouth. “Excellent. And when do you need it?”

  “As soon as possible. No more than four hours from now.” More than that and they risked having BlackOps come for them on Dragonfire, if they weren’t already there. She’d known this was a big risk.

  “A tall order,” Cabot mused, rubbing his chin with his forefinger. “But I think I know just who to talk to. I’ll be back shortly.” He bowed, politely but hurriedly, then turned smartly on his heel. Just before slipping out the door he called in a soft voice that still manage to carry, “Don’t worry, Chief. I’ve got you covered.”

  With him gone, she faced the task of explaining to her incredulous-looking team why a Rescan trader was the one she trusted to help.

  Cabot proved true to his word. In less than an hour he returned with the entry and command codes to a run-down Rescan cargo ship. Nearly a hundred years old and falling apart from the look of it, but it had passed all of its safety checks. The number of cubics required to purchase it would provide the previous owner with a class-four cargo ship. Heck of an upgrade.

  Whatever. Fallon didn’t need more than a scow. Cabot had assured her that their seller wouldn’t mention a word of the transaction. Along with keeping Cabot’s good opinion, the seller had a vested interest in giving the appearance of being an up-and-comer in the trading world, one who could afford an upgrade. The boon to the seller’s career would be worth many times the ship’s actual price, in time. If that person was smart enough to leverage it.

  Fallon sent Captain Nevitt another message, informing her of their imminent departure. Cabot would go to Cargo Bay Seven, then bring the scow down to Fallon’s location. He’d re-enter, and Avian Unit would depart.

  She hadn’t expected to see Nevitt appear in the cargo bay while they waited. The captain looked cool and relaxed, with that new friendly expression that Fallon had a hard time getting used to.

  “Chief,” Nevitt said with a courteous bow.

  The title made Fallon a little sad. It reminded her of a life that wasn’t hers, and now seemed too small for her to fit into. It had felt right, until Raptor had shown her how much she hadn’t known about herself.

  Fallon returned the bow. “Captain. Thank you for your help.”

  But Nevitt wasn’t looking at her. She was eyeing each of Fal
lon’s teammates, who studied the captain with equal interest.

  “I won’t even ask for introductions. Seems like a bad idea for all involved.” Nevitt smiled.

  “Agreed.” Fallon didn’t know why Nevitt had come, and didn’t know what more to say.

  “I wanted to tell you, in person, that I’m not replacing you. I expect you to come back at some point and fulfill your assignment here.” Her smile broadened when she saw Fallon’s surprise.

  “I thought all you wanted was to pick your own second in command.”

  “I did,” Nevitt agreed. “Because I wanted someone I could count on to help me climb the ladder. And then I found out that the second I already had was higher up than anyone I’ve ever met.”

  “That’s not true,” Fallon argued. “You know lots of admirals.”

  Nevitt clucked her tongue derisively. “Yes, fine, admirals. Someone like you is above even them. Changing things from the inside—that’s exactly what I want to be connected to. So you owe me, Chief, whatever your name really is and whoever you really are. I intend to collect on that.” The look on her face was radiant with triumph and amusement.

  Fallon knew she should be annoyed, but she admired Nevitt’s ambition and guts. It took a lot to deliver a speech like that to a BlackOp.

  “I’ll do what I can, Captain.”

  “I’ll inform Arin that you’ve taken an extended medical leave, and he will be acting chief in the interim. It’ll be good experience for him.”

  Fallon nodded.

  “Would you like to see Wren before you go?” Nevitt asked.

  Fallon froze, and felt the eyes of her teammates burning into her. “No. There would be too much to explain. Things that aren’t safe for her to know.”

  Not safe for Nevitt either. Fallon saw the unspoken knowledge spark in Nevitt’s eyes. “Don’t worry about me, Chief. I’m ready for anything.”

  No doubt she was. Fallon answered, “I’m only worried about anyone who tries something on your station.”

  Nevitt grinned. “You got that right.” She stepped back and bowed toward Fallon’s three companions. “Good luck.” She turned and marched out before anyone could return a bow.

  Hawk let out a low whistle and Peregrine said, “I like her.”

  Fallon smiled ruefully. “Yeah. So do I.” She caught movement out of the corner of her eye and saw their raggedy new transport come into view. At three times the size of a class-six cruiser, it wasn’t nearly as concealable. No matter. They’d be out of here in minutes.

  They jetted for the airlock, where they met Cabot. Fallon offered effusive thanks, which Cabot waved aside.

  “Least I can do, Chief. Now stay alive, and come back home.” He grasped her hands again, gave them a gentle squeeze, and was gone.

  She turned to Raptor, Peregrine, and Hawk. “Right, then. Let’s move on to the next phase.”

  Flying the trading ship was like piloting a very large potato. Fallon wouldn’t seek to repeat the experience, given any alternatives. But at least the ship got them to the starting point of what she felt would be a long, treacherous journey.

  The Onari looked different from within the scow. Bigger. Bolder. Stronger. They docked, and Fallon felt Avian Unit’s collective relief in disembarking from the Rescan ship. Though it had two small crew quarters, it had been less than adequate space for four people for nearly two days.

  When the airlock opened, Fallon saw friendly faces. Jerin. Brak. Kellis. Trin, the physical therapist she hadn’t yet gotten to know very well. He gave them a strange finger-gun point that she assumed was a friendly gesture. Behind him stood Endra, looking angry. Scrap. That was going to be awkward to deal with.

  Fallon had new breath in her lungs as she stepped on board the Onari for the first time. Breath full of hope. Breath full of purpose.

  She turned and watched as the unpiloted scow undocked and fell away into space. Raptor had scrubbed it clean and she’d overloaded the power core. It wouldn’t explode or anything dramatic like that, but by tomorrow it would be just another scuttled piece of Rescan flotsam floating through space.

  Jerin looked both grave and welcoming. “Shall I show you to your quarters?” she asked.

  “Yes!” Hawk practically shouted before Fallon could speak. “There was no shower on that thing, and you do not want to socialize with us just now. Especially Peregrine.” He screwed his face up into a comical grimace.

  Peregrine shot him an annoyed look. Jerin simply smiled, though Trin and Kellis laughed. Endra still looked pissed. Fallon sighed inwardly. A truly bittersweet arrival.

  Hawk didn’t get his shower right away. Fallon ordered him to the infirmary first. To her surprise, he capitulated, merely grumbling under his breath as Jerin led him away. She hadn’t quite gotten her mind around the idea of being the commanding officer of this team of elite specialists. She’d need to work on that. When things got gritty, and she had no doubt that they would, she had to be fully prepared to throw down orders. Their lives were in her hands.

  For the short term, Fallon was just glad for a chance to get clean and in fresh clothing. The Onari only had sonic showers, though, and she missed hot, steamy water. Life on board a ship would be an adjustment.

  She’d have plenty of time to adjust to her new surroundings. She’d chartered the Onari for the next four months. Keeping a low profile, Avian Unit would accompany the ship on its previously scheduled route, which would ultimately take them to their destination—Earth.

  Though Fallon would have preferred to burn straight for their target, the extended downtime would get Blackout off their trail. Four months could have gotten them all the way out of the PAC zone, into unregulated space, if they’d chosen. Blackout would have no idea at all where to look for them. And they’d be looking, of course, but a net could only be spread so wide before it was full of massive holes the size of solar systems.

  Meanwhile, Raptor would be tapping into every data port along the way to scour for intelligence on Blackout. Finding out who was talking to whom, if any surprising deals were in the works, and if Blackout had any theories on where Avian Unit might be.

  Thanks to Nevitt, Dragonfire’s records wouldn’t show the Onari’s recent visit, so there was nothing to connect Avian Unit to the ship. Blackout wouldn’t suspect a meandering hospi-ship, wending its way from system to system. That sort of passive, low-energy situation would have a unit of BlackOps itching to get out of their own skins in no time. Fallon knew it, her teammates knew it, and Blackout would, too. Short-term suffering for long-term gains.

  At least the company would be excellent. Fallon looked forward to getting to know Brak better, as well as Trin, Kellis, Jerin, and others. This crew of anomalies somehow seemed like an ideal community to her. Maybe she could while away the months ahead by teasing out the mysteries of these people. She’d definitely need something to keep her busy.

  Her quarters, and those of the others, nestled alongside the crew residences on Deck Two. A quick look around revealed a small but well-designed space. No kitchenette, but it did have its own necessary, thank goodness. To her, the quarters seemed like an upscale version of the low-rent quarters on Dragonfire. The couch was a real couch, rather than a convertible futon, and a small desk and chair sat in one corner, along with a voicecom display. With the chair pushed aside, there was just enough space to pull the desk out into a bed. Fallon recognized the design. Surprisingly comfortable, but pricy. When she woke, she’d fold the bed back up, accordion style, into a desk. A brilliant space-saving solution.

  The only other distinguishing feature of her room was a small closet. Fallon opened the door and looked inside. Hangers, and a pair of crisply folded pajamas. She had no interest in the pajamas, but she could put the hangers to good use. She opened her bags and unpacked her meager belongings. Might as well make herself at home. She hesitated before unpacking the last item, wondering if she’d been a fool to waste precious space on the thing.

  She held the wedding photo in her hands, de
bating. Finally, she set the image on the corner of the desk. After a lingering look at Wren’s face, Fallon straightened and strode out of the quarters. She needed to check on Hawk.

  “I told him I could take care of the scars, but he said he likes them,” Jerin said, looking somewhat mystified.

  Fallon arched an eyebrow at Hawk. He grinned, managing to look both cherubic and wicked at the same time.

  “Badges of honor,” he said, hopping off the techbed on surprisingly light feet for a man his size. “I feel great, Doc. Thanks.”

  “How is he?” Fallon asked.

  Jerin frowned. “I don’t know what happened to him, but he seems to have had both serious stinger burns and a stage-four laceration. I’m guessing he hemorrhaged, because his blood volume was too low, and his white cell count too high. An indicator of immune boosters, which I also detected, in extreme amounts. Then there are the nanopods.” She cast an appraising look at both Hawk and Fallon. “Very interesting to see those used in what appears to have been a field medicine situation, when most hospitals don’t even have them yet.”

  She stopped talking, looking at Hawk with a speculative expression, then began again in a lighter voice. “I’m leaving the nanopods in for now. I’ll remove them tomorrow or the day after, if all goes well. I compensated for his blood volume and returned his body to normal levels of immune activation and electrolytes. And I did a lot of other technical, medical-ly things, too.” A smirk haunted her lips.

  “Medical-ly?” Hawk repeated. He looked at Fallon. “I think I’m going to like her.”

  “You will,” Fallon confirmed. “And I already do, so, seriously, don’t piss her off.”

  Hawk affected a look of hurt. “Would I do that?”

  “Entirely possible.”

  The hurt look vanished, replaced with a grin. “Not on purpose.”

  Jerin arched an eyebrow. “I want to keep a close eye on you for the next couple days, and would prefer to keep you in the infirmary. But I already know how that conversation will go, so can someone at least keep tabs on him?”