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

by Zen DiPietro

  She ran her fingers through her hair. So where did this leave her? She wanted to find out more about her parents. Ideally, she wanted to get back to Earth and see them. Talk to them. She’d been so very close, in the same city. Maybe her parents had even been inside the base when she’d been there. It was infuriatingly frustrating.

  Her parents could hold the key to her getting her memories back. But then maybe they were complicit in what was happening to her. An unfortunate conundrum. She couldn’t just approach them and risk being captured by Blackout.

  She leaned back against the couch, thinking. “Even if the Outlaw’s destruction looked completely legit, you know they’re still looking for us just in case. And they sure wouldn’t expect us to go back to Earth, so there’s a certain logic for doing the thing that they think we’re not stupid enough to do.”

  “Maybe.” Raptor didn’t look entirely convinced.

  She didn’t let that faze her. “But we can’t take the Outlaw back to Earth, and it would look highly suspicious for the Onari to go back there so soon. So if that’s our destination, we’ll need a new ride.”

  He nodded, but didn’t say anything.

  She found his silence suspicious. “Did you find out anything else?”

  “Some pictures. Test scores. Vital statistics sort of stuff, the kind they used to decide whether or not to accept you into the academy.”

  “I’d like to see whatever you have.” She didn’t want anyone watching her while she did it though. “Maybe I could take it back to my quarters?”

  “Sure. I can copy it onto a chip you can use on your voicecom. Just be sure to lock it down before you use it.”

  “Right.”

  “You okay?” He seemed unsure what kind of support to give her.

  “Yeah.” And she really was. “I just need some time to put that into perspective. Figure out how all that fits into the puzzle, you know? I thought that my family was dead. That maybe Blackout even had something to do with it. Now there’s a possibility that they’re part of Blackout.” She shrugged, not wanting to think too hard about that detail right now. “Kiyoko Kato. It’s a nice name. I wonder what she was like.”

  His mouth turned down. “You’re still the same you, regardless. Don’t let it mess with your head.”

  “I won’t. I just need to figure it out.” She sat forward. “Can you bring that chip by when it’s ready?”

  “Sure. Want to have dinner tonight?”

  She wasn’t sure she’d be hungry again so soon. “Maybe. I’ll let you know.”

  “Okay.”

  She started to go, but he followed her to the door. “This is a good thing. We’re closer to figuring all this out.”

  “I know.” She’d make sure they did.

  Looking at pictures of herself as a child felt like looking at another person. Fallon peered at the screen, seeing the familiar face, but not knowing anything about the girl who’d smiled and posed for the image. In several, she simply stared out with a hard look, far too tough and serious for a child her age. Was she just mugging for the camera, or did that say something about her upbringing? Maybe she’d been pushed into a life of intelligence. Or maybe she’d been proud to carry on a family tradition.

  And maybe her parents had turned on her. But why would they?

  Fallon abandoned the photos and studied her records instead. She’d gotten top marks in all her classes as a child. Not surprising for a future academy student. Also not surprising that she’d begun studying languages early in life. Earth dialects and the PAC standard, as well as languages from other planets. Had her parents encouraged that?

  She turned off the screen, pushing away from it. Continuing to look at it would do her no good. She needed more information. More puzzle pieces. She needed to know the right questions to ask to find the answers that would help her unravel everything that had happened to her and her team. Could it all have been because of her? Because of her family? Did they have anything to do with the two moons?

  11

  Fragments Chapter 6

  Fallon knew she couldn’t continue with the Onari. She was grateful for the cover it had given her, twice now, and she owed Jerin for that. She owed Kellis, too, of course, and she’d have to settle up with both of them later. But for now the time had come to part ways.

  Her team had thought about selling the Outlaw, but it was too recognizable to the PAC. Besides, they weren’t short on funds, and the ship might prove to be useful at some point. In the meantime, Fallon tasked Hawk with finding them another fast, high-end ship that they could buy on the quiet under a bogus name. Something big this time. Preferably also capable of atmospheric landings.

  Instead of grousing about the difficulty of such a tall order, he seemed to appreciate the challenge. In four days, he conjured up a deal. The ship was much larger than the Outlaw, and more heavily armed. Both attributes suited Fallon just fine. The ludicrous price tag meant nothing to her, since funds were not a problem. Now they just had to meet up with Hawk’s associate so they could collect the ship.

  Avian Unit departed the Onari via a rusted slag heap of an outpost that Fallon wouldn’t normally have set foot on. But Hawk had assured her it would be fine, and that their chartered transportation would arrive within hours. Their goodbyes with their friends on the Onari this time were briefer, since they’d so recently been through the process.

  Fallon wished she could have taken Kellis with them as a member of their team. Her skills would be highly useful, but long-term protection of an untrained asset was too much of a liability. Maybe once Fallon had cleaned house in Blackout and settled herself at the helm, she could pull Kellis in and fast-track her through training. Kellis was clearly interested.

  The transport arrived at the decrepit outpost just as Hawk had promised. Fallon had more than a few choice words for her partner, though, when she saw their ride. There were plenty of freighters, Rescan or not, she’d have no qualms about, but this particular Rescan freighter was of the creatively-attributed-maintenance-checks type.

  Hawk promised the scow would deliver them to their new ship, anonymously and without trouble. Which was what they needed. Assuming they survived the voyage, they’d end up at the vessel that she intended to fly right into Blackout’s eye. Figuratively speaking, of course.

  “Insert maniacal laugh here,” she muttered to herself. If she didn’t have her sense of humor, then what did she have? She swung her backpack over her shoulder and prepared to step off the crappy little outpost for the even-crappier freighter.

  “What?” Peregrine asked.

  “Nothing.” She stepped onto the Rescan ship, hoping it wasn’t as bad on the inside as it looked on the outside.

  In fact, the freighter’s exterior had somehow hidden the acute crappiness of the interior. Hawk gave Fallon a rough pat on the shoulder blade.

  “Don’t look so glum. Arcy assured me that the engines on this boat are a late design, and properly maintained.” Hawk seemed entirely confident about their new surroundings.

  “Let’s say that’s true,” Fallon answered. Over her shoulder, she saw that Raptor and Peregrine followed, listening. “What are the odds the hull can stand up to all that power, and won’t rip right in two?” She eyed the filthy ship dubiously. She’d seen better-looking derelicts.

  “Seriously. Don’t worry. Arcy wouldn’t risk the life of someone who’s brought so many cubics his way.” Hawk paused outside a door. “Ah. Here we are. Who’s staying with who?”

  They had two berths for the four of them. Fallon really didn’t care who she roomed with. She shrugged and activated the door with the wall mechanism. Manually. Like a historical figure from Earth’s neo-intergalactic period. When the door creaked open, she went in and set her backpack on the top bunk.

  Peregrine stepped in behind her and set her gear on the lower bunk, then doubled back and closed the door behind her. “I figure you’re the smallest of us, so I’d have the most space if I roomed with you.”

  “G
ood thinking.” It was as valid a method of choosing a roommate as anything Fallon would have come up with.

  Peregrine did a slow turn in place, taking in the small berth. “It’s not as dirty as it could be.”

  True. The bed linens looked fairly clean, and had no apparent odor. She and Peregrine could be a lot worse off.

  “We trust Hawk to know what ships we should and shouldn’t risk our lives on, right?” Fallon had been going for a joking tone, because of course they did, but she sounded a little more serious than she’d intended.

  Peregrine chewed on the inside of her lip, eyeing the plain-metal walls, the bed, and six storage drawers mounted into the interior wall. Which was all the room had to offer. She yanked the drawers open and slammed them closed again, all in quick succession. Pull, bang. Pull, bang. She sighed and sat. “Yeah, we can count on Hawk. On the other hand, the four of us are nothing but cargo on this bucket, and we’ll just be whiling away the next two days in cramped quarters.” She shrugged. “Whatever.” She stretched out on the bed, staring up at the bottom of the top bunk. “We’ve had it worse.”

  “At least Raptor has something to do. Maybe he’ll discover some more useful data,” Fallon suggested.

  A noncommittal grunt from Peregrine.

  Fallon started looking through the storage compartments as well, though her perusal was slower than Peregrine’s had been.

  “There are some cards in here…” Fallon trailed off as Peregrine let out a soft snore. She closed the last drawer with a soft click.

  Actually, some sleep sounded like a good idea. What else did she have to do? The crew wouldn’t appreciate her wandering about.

  She climbed up to her bunk and stretched out. As far as comfort went, it wasn’t too bad. The hum of the ship’s systems was a comforting lull. She closed her eyes.

  Two days of playing cards, sleeping, and eating very subpar meals ended with Avian Unit’s delivery from the Rescan slag heap to a comfortable passenger liner. Even better, a fast passenger liner. Fallon’s heart leaped when she saw it docked to the trade outpost. Made for nothing but speed and comfort, that ride would get them to their destination in a quarter of the time it would have taken the Onari.

  Thank goodness. Fallon was tired of the long-range travel game. She had questions, and she wanted answers.

  After a perfectly pleasant trip, the passenger liner delivered her and her team to a lovely mercenary station. Or free-market station, as the tenants preferred to call it. Fallon had to admire its sleek angles and shiny fittings. Never mind that it was a non-PAC station in unregulated space, and likely to be at least partially funded by smuggling. She liked it, even the name. Dauntless Station. She appreciated the cheek of the entrepreneurs who had worked together to establish this hub of commerce, where the PAC had no authority.

  Dauntless didn’t have the size of a PAC station like Dragonfire or Blackthorn, but it wasn’t too far off. As Fallon stepped out onto the concourse, she basked in the vibrant feel of commerce and life. Dauntless was a place where things happened. Cunning people made lucrative deals, while the less-savvy—or simply unlucky—lost fortunes. She saw people bustling about, much as they would have on the boardwalk of Dragonfire. But these people looked faster, more driven. Both smoother and sharper, with a certain alluring menace. Fallon liked it a lot.

  Hawk had already arranged quarters for the team. They’d share again, but this time in a suite with separate sleeping rooms. It wasn’t a good idea, he’d warned, not to have someone keeping tabs on you in a place like this.

  Fallon didn’t feel threatened, though. She’d have been one pathetic excuse for a former security chief if a little mercenary commerce made her nervous. She looked forward to checking out the station, if they ended up spending enough time there to do so. The passenger liner had provided excellent amenities and food, and the station had only slightly less to offer to those with the means to pay for it.

  She appreciated the straightforwardness of such transactions. No contracts and no regulations. Just pay and receive. Simple and to the point. She wondered if mercenaries might be wiser than all the rest of them. In comparison, her backstabbing game of intrigue with Blackout seemed like a hopelessly messy endeavor.

  Hawk had scheduled a meeting with his contact for the following morning, when the ship’s controls would be released to him. Which left Fallon with an evening to explore the station.

  Peregrine had no interest in going out. She’d holed herself up in her room with a holo-vid projector and a pile of room service. Hawk had some inquiries to make, he said, and then headed for the door.

  “What about the buddy system, making sure you have backup?” Fallon demanded.

  He made a dismissive gesture. “I know who’s who here. You don’t. Different thing.” And off he went.

  Which left Raptor. She doubted he’d want to go explore the station. He’d been buried in the stolen data ever since he’d gotten it. No harm in asking, though. He had to eat sometime, right?

  “Sure,” he surprised her by answering. “Didn’t think you’d want to go with me.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  He arched a knowing eyebrow at her. “I’ve had the feeling you’ve been avoiding being alone with me since we talked about our former relationship.”

  “That’s not true.”

  He just kept looking at her.

  “Okay, it’s not true exactly. Yes, I’d prefer to avoid complicating things, but I’m not uncomfortable with you.”

  He grinned. “Good. I’m not uncomfortable with you, either.” He indicated the door. “After you.”

  The more Fallon saw of Dauntless Station, the more she liked it. It was both rougher and sleeker than Dragonfire. Rougher in that it didn’t have so many security precautions, so many redundant fail-safes, which the PAC required. But Dauntless was sleeker because it wasn’t hemmed in by those requirements. Nonregulation stairways and lifts were designed in an open-air way that provided a bit of a thrill. Fallon felt downright exposed in a lift with walls that only rose to chest height—and she liked it.

  They chose to eat at a restaurant with a dining area that spilled out into the commons. They sat next to a low wall, which allowed them to see the level below them as well as the foot traffic as it passed. Fallon greatly enjoyed the people-watching, and the conversation between her and Raptor lagged accordingly. In a comfortable way.

  She caught him smiling at her. Looking, perhaps, a bit fond. “What?”

  “I’d forgotten how much you like these places.”

  “Don’t you like them?” How could he not?

  “Sure,” he agreed. “I do. But you light up like a kid who just saw her birthday cake.”

  “How many of these have we visited together? You never mentioned one before.”

  There were a lot of stories she still hadn’t heard. He and the others had told her many anecdotes about their school and training days, as well as their missions. But she’d heard little of the smaller, more personal stuff.

  “Oh, I don’t know. A few. Not many are as nice as this one though.” He cut a slice of his roasted fowl and put it in his mouth.

  “For work?”

  “Yeah.” He paused to swallow. “Except once, when we were looking for a promotion gift for Hawk.”

  “What did we end up with?”

  Raptor looked abashed. “Well, Hawk doesn’t need or want much in terms of possessions. So we ended up setting him up with a couple of—”

  She followed his line of thought and cut him off. She already knew Hawk’s favorite non-work-related pastime. “Yeah, I gotcha. Anyway.”

  Raptor smiled. “Anyway.” His eyes hitched to the right and she felt him become more vigilant.

  She leaned in. “What?”

  He angled himself closer to her over the table, speaking in a low voice. “There’s a Rescan and a human, both male. They’ve come by here three times now. Maybe it’s paranoia, but there’s no reason for them to do that. They’re not carrying anyt
hing and they’re just walking from one part of the boardwalk to another.”

  She kept her eyes on him instead of turning to look. “What are you thinking?”

  “Nothing. Nothing really. Just, we should keep an eye out. And maybe finish eating so we can move on.”

  “Right.” She’d nearly finished, anyway. She scarfed the rest of her sandwich and pasta salad. She’d hoped to order dessert, but she could always have that delivered to the room later. She enjoyed the spoils of living on stolen Blackout money. Spending Blackout’s cubics felt pretty good.

  “Let’s take a walk along the shops, see if they follow us,” Raptor murmured, putting his arm around her waist as if whispering sweet things in her ear.

  She gave him a moderately dippy look, as if swept away by his romance. “All right.”

  She liked the shops. An all-out arms merchant had some hardcore artillery displayed right there on the boardwalk. He didn’t exhibit anything that would be illegal in the PAC zone, but Fallon was pretty sure that such things existed out of sight. She’d have liked the chance to peruse the items for sale, but there was no reason to let their possible pursuers know that they were the kind of people who had an interest in heavy weaponry.

  She leaned into Raptor. “They’re three shops down, behind a clothing rack. You think they’re just tagging us because we’re human?” Humans tended to be softer targets than other species, given their dependence on the PAC. That made them more prone to random attacks in neutral territory.

  “Maybe.” He kissed the top of her head and they strolled onward.

  “Hey, spender.” A Trallian smiled up at Raptor. Clearly he meant to flatter Raptor, calling him a spender—a person of influence and means. “Buy a necklace for your lady?”

  The merchant stepped aside, revealing a display of exquisite carved-bead necklaces.

  “Those are gorgeous.” Fallon moved closer to examine them.

  The Trallian beamed at her. At a dozen or so centimeters shorter than her, he was an example of a tall member of his species. His thick mottled-brown skin reminded her somewhat of tree bark. His eyes and smile were big, and she found the fellow quite adorable. Which probably meant that someone nearby was about to bash her on the back of the head and pick her carcass clean. Fallon was no fool. But Raptor had her covered, so she wasn’t worried. And perhaps the Trallian really was just a genuine craftsperson. Sometimes they were.