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

by Zen DiPietro

  “We’re sure that coming back to Earth so soon is a good idea, right?” Hawk asked as they waited for the airlock to pressurize so they could board the docking station.

  Fallon had no doubts. “Yep. So soon after our last quick escape, they definitely won’t be expecting to see us back here again. It’s far too stupid a move for us to make.”

  “Which makes it exactly what we want to do,” Raptor agreed, grinning.

  The airlock opened.

  Hawk’s eyes sparkled with humor. “Just checking. Let’s go. Blood and bone.”

  Fallon’s parents lived in a small, freestanding home in a village just outside Tokyo. Easy traveling distance to the PAC base, she noted. But far enough out that they could escape high-rise living.

  Which was good and bad, strategically. She and Raptor would have to approach the home from out in the open, but anyone arriving at the house after them would be forced to do the same. If the message they’d intercepted had been legit, then officially Avian Unit was on deep-cover duty and not to be messed with. But combatants would have to recognize them before realizing that. Besides, there might well be private orders countermanding the official ones. There was no reason at all to think they’d encounter any friendlies out in the field.

  Fallon was sick to death of what-ifs. She just wanted to get shit done.

  She rapped on the door to the modest home. A little too hard, but she wanted to be sure to be heard. She didn’t want to stand on their doorstep for longer than necessary.

  Her father answered. “Yes?” he asked in Japanese.

  She gave him a deep bow, as was proper to give an elder, which he returned politely but briefly, in accordance with her unknown status and identity. “Greetings, Mr. Kato. I hope we can ask the favor of entering your home. We are friends of your daughter.”

  His polite, open expression dissolved into something far more grim. “Of course.” His words became clipped. He moved aside and waved them in.

  Inside, her mother glared at them with fury. When the door closed behind them and they all had moved into the tidy, tastefully sparse living space, her mother took a step forward.

  “How dare you come to our home. What do you want?” She spoke as if she had fire on her tongue.

  “Mother,” Fallon said. “It’s me.” She removed the wig and began pulling the prosthetic skin from her face, careful not to tear it. She’d need to put it back on before leaving.

  Her parents’ expressions didn’t soften. Well, scrap. This didn’t bode well.

  “How would we know it was you?” her mother asked, still speaking in Japanese. “We haven’t seen you in three years. Our daughter might well be dead.”

  Her father spoke. Unlike her mother’s hard anger edged with fear, his eyes flickered with both wariness and hope. “What did I call you when you were a little girl? When I’d tuck you in at night.”

  Without knowledge of her childhood, this meeting could go south really fast.

  “I don’t know.” She held her hands up, staying her mother’s anger. “Something happened to me and I’ve lost my memory. These others with me, they’re my unit, but my memory is about six months old at this point.”

  Her parents exchanged a look, then her father stepped forward, studying her face. Was he looking for a birthmark or a scar? She didn’t have either of those. Only a tattoo, and that surely wouldn’t help identify her to her parents.

  Her father struck hard and fast. His hands came down like lightning and she barely had time to throw up a block and shift sideways to deflect the force. She stepped back, getting more room between them, and dropped into a low fighting stance. Without waiting for him to strike again, she did a combination. Light hit to the face, palm strike to the sternum, kick to the knee. Not to injure him, but to throw him off-balance. His attack had put her on the defensive, and she needed to gain the upper hand.

  He wasn’t going to give it to her. He anticipated her combo: block, block-repel, hit. He caught her in the chest, pushing her another step back.

  Of course. He knew how she fought. He’d taught her. That meant he’d fight the same way. She grinned suddenly and dropped to the ground, trapping his leg and flipping him over. He was not much taller than her, which meant she could effectively grapple with him. But she quickly found that the cosmetic weight Peregrine had put on her hindered her too much.

  A light strike to his stomach gave her time to jump to her feet, leap back, and launch herself into the air. She tucked her knees into her body hard, one straight into her chest and the other twisted in toward her body, giving her a sideways trajectory. Not too shabby, she thought, with ten pounds of fake jiggle on her. She landed more than a meter away, bouncing on her heels and ready for him to come after her.

  But he didn’t. His face brightened like a sunrise. “My daughter.” He stepped forward and folded her into a fierce embrace.

  Apparently, flipping around the living room and trying to kick her father’s ass was proof positive of Kato blood. Well, fine then. She didn’t mind the hug, although this man was a stranger to her. He obviously knew her, and loved her, and damn if that didn’t mean a lot to Fallon. She’d take whatever she could get at this point, and she returned the hug. “Hello, Father.”

  She lifted her head only to find that her mother had crossed the distance like an assassin, standing nearby to sweep her into a death grip of a hug, scented with lily of the valley.

  “Kiyoko-chan.” Her mother held her shoulders, moving back just enough to study her face. Then she went all in and cupped Fallon’s face, squishing it gently, as a mother would do to a baby’s chubby cheeks. “We thought you were dead.”

  Hawk and Peregrine joined from outside, then removed their disguises, along with Raptor. Fallon removed her extra weight, as well, so that her parents could see what she really looked like. They deserved that after not having seen her in three years.

  They all settled on their knees around the low dining table. Her mother had insisted on serving tea. Fallon took a polite sip, as did her teammates, but no one really wanted a hot beverage.

  “Why did you think I was dead?” Fallon asked.

  “Not just you,” her father said. “Your whole unit. We saw the no-interference order. Given how long it had been since we’d seen you, and how strange things have been at intelligence, we thought you might have been eliminated, with your employers not wanting anyone to know about that.”

  She noted his way of referring to Blackout. “So you’re not…employed by the same people?”

  He shook his head. “No. I do purely on-the-books classified work. I’m aware of your employers, but that’s it. I actively try to avoid any deeper knowledge.”

  “Why?”

  Hiro sighed, looking tired. “It’s not like it used to be. In recent years, there’s been a closing of ranks. A leadership has emerged. A hard leadership. One that a nine-to-fiver like me doesn’t want to get involved with.”

  “The kind that will either pull you in or take you down, if you’re useful,” she supplied.

  He agreed with a small nod.

  Yumi set her teacup down gently. She hadn’t been drinking the tea, either. “In my line of work I tend to get wind of things, in an unofficial capacity. When I stopped hearing anything about you a year and a half ago, I knew something was wrong. But we couldn’t turn up any information.”

  At least they would understand why she couldn’t explain anything in great detail. They’d know that it was for their own good, as well as her own.

  Her father spoke again. “There was a data breach at the base recently. If you were involved, I need to not know about that. But if you were, I hope you got something good. You won’t be getting in there again.”

  “Yeah.” Fallon liked the way her father phrased things. “I imagine that would be the case.”

  “So what can we do for you?” her mother asked. “How can we help?”

  Fallon thought about it. Keeping them unaware of things that could get them killed was not co
nducive to describing her situation. Nor could she ask them to steal information that would surely be traced back to them.

  “In these shakeups in the intel division, have you heard any names? Any whispers of who might be responsible? Or of someone who might be an ally?”

  Hiro’s mouth pursed as he thought. “Admiral Colb is clean, I’m sure of that.”

  Admiral Colb had sponsored her application to the academy. She’d seen that on the real records Raptor had extracted.

  “He might be useful. If we can manage to contact him without endangering him.” Fallon liked the idea of Colb being an asset.

  Her father nodded. “He and I went to the academy together, and you grew up with him as something of an honorary uncle. He’s always been a good friend. You can count on him.”

  She’d had no idea about Colb. That was certainly useful information. “Anyone else?”

  “Whelkin,” Yumi said decisively. “I’m sure of him.”

  “Ross Whelkin?” Raptor hadn’t said anything since the introductions, but spoke up now in surprise. “The combat instructor at the academy?”

  Her parents both smiled, as adults do to naïve children. “He’s not just an instructor.”

  Fallon didn’t remember the man, other than what her team had told her, so she didn’t experience the surprise that her teammates showed.

  “How do you think intelligence knows who their ideal candidates are? We recruit from the inside.” Her father cupped his hands around his teacup, but didn’t lift it.

  Fallon liked the tiny smile on his face. It wasn’t smug or anything like that. He simply seemed amused to provide a detail that a team of BlackOps had missed.

  She thought she might grow to appreciate her father’s sense of humor. If she got the chance. She tried to think of more questions, but there was little more she could ask or say without pushing them into the quicksand of her life.

  “I guess we should be going,” she said, feeling a deep reluctance. She hadn’t learned much personal information, and so far, she hadn’t found anything that felt familiar. But the longer she stayed, the more of a risk she posed to her parents. That now eclipsed her desire to know about her past. At least if she protected them, they’d still be around later for her to talk to.

  Hiro and Yumi exchanged the look of a couple married so many years that they can have entire conversations with their eyes.

  “Stay the night,” Yumi entreated, her eyes anxious. “Please.”

  Fallon started to refuse, then stopped. This might very well be the last time she spoke to her parents. If she got herself killed, they’d never see their daughter again. Besides that, she’d been gone for three years. They understood the risk, and they deserved one evening with their child.

  “How’s your security?” she asked.

  “Excellent,” her father answered, confident.

  She smiled at him. “I can make it better.”

  Fallon studied the picture on the image display of her as a toddler, standing next to her father, mimicking his pose.

  “That’s how you started,” he told her. He sat to her left at the low dining table. The others had retreated to the nearby sitting area, making small talk.

  Her father continued, “I’d be practicing, and you’d toddle over and start doing the same things. Surprisingly well, too. So it seemed natural to teach you. You always asked for more.”

  He flicked through several more images and her age advanced to her early teens. She noted her hairstyles and every article of clothing, but nothing looked familiar. Only the faces of the two people did. Her own face, growing and maturing with age, and her father’s, always watching her with pride.

  “Whose idea was it for me to go to the academy?” she asked.

  “Yours. Always yours. In fact, your mother threatened me too many times to count. She wanted you doing something nice and safe, right nearby.” He chuckled.

  “At least she succeeded in that with my brother.” Her father had told her how Kano had become a successful city planner. So much so that he often traveled to other cities to help them expand to accommodate a growing populace.

  Hiro sighed. “He will be incredibly disappointed to have missed you. All things considered, though, I think it’s better. We’ll tell him sometime in the future.”

  To keep him safe. “Of course.”

  He squeezed her hand. “I knew you’d understand.” He craned his neck to look down the hallway. “Do you think your friends will be okay with one spare bedroom and the parlor? I’m afraid we don’t have much space. Living in a freestanding home is very costly.”

  “They’ll be fine. You should have seen the scow we stayed on a few weeks ago.” She laughed when she thought of the Rescan ship. Her parents’ house was a paradise in comparison. Especially since her mother kept trying to push food and tea on them.

  “What can I do for you, Kiyoko-chan? I know you want your memories back. How can I help you do that?” He reached for her hands.

  She looked at their hands together. They were the same warm, tan hue. They had the same-shaped fingernails, and they both wore them clipped short. They were remarkably similar hands, and it felt nice to stop and share something with her father, who represented a large piece of her past. Her origins.

  But it didn’t bring her past roaring back into her brain. Didn’t let loose a tsunami of recollections. Didn’t get her any closer to figuring out what her future looked like.

  Damn. She’d hoped it would be that easy. “I don’t know. Is there anything that meant something to me? Something really significant? Images, or something I owned, or something I used to do?”

  He frowned thoughtfully. “Training. But we already did a little sparring session and you’ve seen pictures. Other than that, I’d say your bedroom. Sit in there awhile. See how it feels. You were always a very deep, thoughtful girl who spent much time alone in her room.” He sighed. “Otherwise, I don’t know. To be honest, I’m struggling with my own feelings about your memory loss. Knowing that you don’t remember me or your mother doesn’t feel great.”

  “I know. It must suck, and I’m sorry.”

  He smiled. Fallon liked his smile. She could imagine him looking at her like that when she struggled to master some new skill as a kid.

  “Don’t worry about me,” he assured her. “I know you’ll figure it out. You always have.”

  “Thanks.” She appreciated his faith. She didn’t remember him, but he knew her—and he believed in her. It meant something.

  “I like your team,” he added. “They’re going to be there for you.”

  “They are.” If nothing else, she was entirely certain of that.

  He rose to his feet with the smooth grace of a dancer. Or a highly trained fighter. “Shall I walk you to your room, then?”

  “Are you sure Mother won’t be upset if I disappear?”

  He chuckled. “She’s in her element, entertaining. To tell you the truth, I think she’s completely fascinated with your team. No doubt she’s trying to pull them apart to figure out how they tick, right now.”

  They walked down a narrow hallway and he gestured at a closed door. “I hope there are some answers in there. Either way, your mother will be looking forward to making your favorite breakfast for you in the morning.”

  “I wish we could stay longer.”

  “You’ll be back.” His eyes lit with determination, and he suddenly reminded her of herself.

  Impetuously, she gave him a hug before entering the room and closing the door behind her. She’d learned to trust her instincts, and the smile that lit Hiro’s face made her glad that she had.

  12

  Fragments Chapter 7

  Fallon entered the room slowly, cataloguing its contents in a methodical way. That was how she approached any new situation. Log the facts first. Fill in the gaps as she went along.

  Light-blue walls, a narrow but comfortable-looking bed with a simple frame. A small desk in the corner with a voicecom display on it. A dresser
. A lack of knickknacks and clutter. An altogether tidy space.

  Her father had told her that she’d begun living in this room at the age of ten, when he and her mother had bought the house. Even while attending the academy, she’d stayed in this room during visits home. They’d changed little about it, though it no longer held many of her personal belongings. She’d have either gotten rid of them or taken them with her, she supposed.

  Which left her with very little to look at. She opened the closet and found only a hooded sweatshirt with the academy’s insignia. She pushed her arms into it and settled the hood over her head. Pressing her nose to a sleeve, she took a deep inhale. It didn’t smell of anything in particular.

  She seated herself in the slim chair facing the desk. The voicecom awaited her command, but she had none to give it.

  What, then? Photos? Her father had shown her a number of images and they’d prompted nothing. Neither did this room. It could be any room, though she had to admit that the sweatshirt felt particularly comfortable.

  Fine, the voicecom, then. She tapped through the local files and saw images of herself through the years. Mostly with friends, posing for the camera, or stern-faced and holding herself rigid, in the midst of martial-arts training. She paused at the knife-throwing images, clicking through them much more slowly than the others. But she didn’t recognize the people or places. No voices rang in her ears, and nothing made her feel connected to the scenes in front of her. Not even the image of her with a good-looking boy, who looked at her with eyes that expressed more than friendship. A boyfriend? If so, she appeared to have done well. He was remarkably good-looking. Of course that didn’t mean he wasn’t a jerk, but she hoped she’d have been smart enough to steer clear of that kind of guy.

  She started looking at the documents. School projects, mostly. Thermodynamics. Art history. Nuclear chemistry. Her nose wrinkled. Scrap, that sounded positively awful. Whatever she was, she was not a scientist. But she supposed she’d needed a working knowledge of all the major disciplines. Must have been hell to get through. Ugh.