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

by Zen DiPietro

  Fallon weighed the facts in her head. Losing Jamestown was devastating, even if they’d managed to take the databanks with them. Krazinski wouldn’t have leveraged the entire station as an attempt to convince her team he wasn’t guilty. He’d only do so in response to a much greater threat.

  She rubbed her hand over the short, bristly side of her hair. “Per, is ‘put your head to the ground’ one of your odd Zerellian phrases?”

  Peregrine shook her head. “No. Never heard it. I wondered what he meant by that.”

  “It’s an odd thing to say.” Fallon kept rubbing her hair. The sensation against her fingers helped her think.

  “I could research the language circuits. See if it’s a translation of something,” Peregrine offered.

  “It’s worth a try.” She suppressed a sigh. “Do you all think it’s worthwhile to talk to Colb?”

  “You could try,” Raptor said, sounding doubtful. “He didn’t seem inclined to do anything but bait you.”

  “No.” Hawk’s voice rang with authority. “He’s too much like us. He’ll lie, he’ll weave stories, and you’d never know what was true and what wasn’t.”

  “Yeah. You’re probably right. But he mentioned Wren.”

  Raptor frowned. “Tactics 101. Keep your opponent off-balance, and make them think you have something they want.”

  She straightened. “Agreed. He’ll stay in the brig. With a guard, whenever possible.”

  “Standard brig security not enough for you?” Ross asked. “If he tries to tamper with the system, he’ll get thirty milliamps and find himself not breathing. He knows that.”

  “Call it paranoia,” she answered.

  “I’m good with paranoia,” Hawk said.

  “Okay. So we need a new plan. I’m open to suggestions.”

  “Dragonfire?” Hawk suggested after a moment of silence.

  “Yeah. That’s what I’m thinking too. We’ll have the best defensive capability in case some friend of Colb’s comes looking for him. The brig there is first-rate. It’s the best option until we have more to go on.”

  “By the time we get to Dragonfire, there may be a panic about Jamestown. The first shouts will go up when someone goes to dock there, or communications don’t get returned.” Peregrine chewed on the pad of her thumb.

  “Nothing we can do about that,” Raptor said. “We can hope it happens later rather than sooner, but that’s it.”

  “PAC allies will get very nervous once they know, and those who are not our allies will sense an opportunity.”

  “No pressure,” muttered Hawk.

  Fallon took a deep breath. “Fun time’s over. Back to work.”

  “Where was I for fun time?” wondered Peregrine, but a hint of humor glinted in her eyes.

  “Fun time was when we were going to storm the castle. Had my ass-kicking pants on and everything.” Hawk ran his hands down his thighs.

  “We all wear the same style of jumpsuit,” Raptor pointed out.

  “We were all wearing ass-kicking pants,” Hawk explained.

  “Still are,” Peregrine reminded him.

  “There will be no ass-kicking today,” Fallon decreed. “Unless something unexpected comes up. But we will kick ass another day. Guaranteed.”

  Fallon spent her off shifts pacing her quarters end to end. She needed a new angle, a new strategy. A way to discover where the command staff from Jamestown had gone. They had answers she needed.

  If Colb had been the one working against the PAC all along, did that mean that Krazinski was necessarily innocent? All the data pointing at Krazinski had been verified as genuine. But Colb could have created genuine documents that contained falsified information.

  What about Krazinski’s attempt to blackmail Brak into creating neural implants that were in violation of the PAC’s treaties? The only way that added up was if Krazinski had been testing Brak—either to see if she’d do such a thing, or if she had already been asked to. Which could make sense, if Krazinski were trying to shut Colb down from the inside.

  But why did Colb want treaty-breaking technology? And why install it in her head? He’d had many people to choose from, so why her? Maybe because he’d known her for so long. Or maybe he’d perceived her as a threat to his long-term plans.

  She had all the questions, but none of the answers. And though she doubted he’d give her any real information, she wanted to look at Colb’s face while she asked him the questions. Even if he told her only lies, she might come up with some useful tidbit. Besides, she had nothing more productive to do.

  “Kiyoko-chan. It’s so good to see you.” Colb looked tired, but well enough. The brig wasn’t big on privacy, but it provided adequate comfort.

  “You can call me Fallon.” She sat opposite the force field that kept him contained and exposed to scrutiny.

  “Fallon. I’ve been hoping you’d come see me. I feel awful about what I said before. I was angry at being accused, but I can see how you’d suspect me. It’s the hazard of what we do. When things go wrong, we’re paranoid enough to suspect everyone.”

  What he said was true. But he’d had three days to think about his approach. She had to admit it was a good one, and he seemed utterly sincere.

  “You mentioned Wren.” Her tone was as hard as her gaze.

  “Yes. Again, I apologize. I was just trying to keep myself out of the brig long enough to explain things to you. I knew your wife would be a tender spot that would get your attention.”

  “So you’re no longer saying that there was some additional significance to my meeting her.”

  “Well there was,” Colb said. “But only in that your assignment on the station was to investigate her.”

  “To keep me busy? Out of the way? With the rest of my team scattered in various places on equally bogus assignments?”

  “I didn’t think your assignment was bogus.” Colb sat still, hands folded in his lap. “There was a legitimate concern of smuggling on Dragonfire, involving an insider.”

  “So you’re maintaining your innocence. You’re the good guy, fighting against the corruption.”

  “Of course. I still don’t understand what caused you to suspect me. Clearly, I’m not the one who attacked Jamestown. I had to leave there months ago.” His forehead furrowed with puzzlement.

  He didn’t know that she’d suspected him before they even arrived at PAC command. And he wasn’t aware that Krazinski had left her a message. She could almost believe she’d made a mistake. That she’d misjudged Colb and reframed everything assuming his guilt. It all hinged on her belief that her parents wouldn’t tell him that she’d visited them on the run from Blackout. If she was wrong about that, all of this could be upside down.

  But she was sure she wasn’t wrong.

  She let doubt flicker briefly on her face as she thought. Any more than that and he’d be on to her. Maybe he already was. They were two trained liars, lying their best. She’d played the game plenty of times, but the stakes had never been this high.

  “So tell me your story,” she said. “Convince me.”

  She left Colb an hour later, feeling indecisive. She’d promised to go talk to him the next day, after they returned to Dragonfire. He’d made a convincing argument for himself while spinning a story that fit with Krazinski’s supposed guilt. But she wasn’t buying it.

  She usually loved head games, but not this time. Losing meant a lot more than a failed mission or her own death.

  She wedged herself into her bunk and closed her eyes. She’d be taking the last shift on the bridge before their arrival at Dragonfire, so she’d need the few hours of sleep she could squeeze in.

  Before they even arrived at the station, Fallon had instructed her security staff there to prepare for a protected guest. She told them nothing of who the guest was, or why that person needed protected status. She simply ensured that when Colb arrived, the team could usher him to a private holding cell with no witnesses or security feeds.

  She had Peregrine and Hawk handle
that transfer while she went to update Hesta on what had occurred. She didn’t resent the necessity of reporting to someone who was technically lower than her in the hierarchy, despite possessing a higher officer rank. Covert officers had elevated security ratings and didn’t typically take orders from anyone less than an admiral, unless maintaining a cover identity. But Fallon had always reported to someone, and this was Nevitt’s station.

  Fallon hadn’t been on Dragonfire long when her comport alerted her to a message from Wren. Fallon would have to wait until after her shift to answer it. She didn’t have time for a personal call.

  She went from one thing directly to the next, making sure Colb was secure, talking to her team, telling Raptor to search for clues about where they might find Krazinski and the rest of the PAC command. Then she attended to her job as security chief on the station. She got a status report from Arin, checked the station’s systems, and looked at the reports that had been filed during her absence.

  All the while, she kept thinking about what Krazinski had said about putting her head to the ground. So far they hadn’t turned up any phrase matching, except for the colloquialism “keep your ear to the ground,” which meant to pay attention to everything around her, particularly what people were saying. Did he mean that things happening at Dragonfire had greater meaning than they seemed to? That she might be missing some clue? Or maybe that she should be paying more attention to the datastreams because something of significance was happening there? It was just too vague a clue.

  In her security office, she did a thorough search of all trending topics on the public voicecom channels, but nothing seemed relevant to her situation. So far, no one had raised the alarm about Jamestown, which was a relief. She was sure PAC command had done all they could to reroute signals and discourage ships from the area, but it was only a matter of time before someone noticed things were not as they should be.

  She pushed back from her desk and sent her chair into a slow spin. Closing her eyes to accommodate an epiphany did not cause one to arrive. A shame.

  She checked the time. Already well past the end of her shift. Wren would probably be asleep by now. She sent a text-only message for Wren to find when she woke, apologizing for not getting back to her sooner and telling her to get in contact the next day.

  Finally, she locked up her office and went to get some sleep. Her rest schedule had been inconsistent because of her shift rotation on the Nefarious, and she’d need a good long slumber to get herself recalibrated.

  Maybe she’d come up with an answer in her dreams. But then she thought of the strange memory dreams she’d had during her amnesia, and she hoped any big revelations waited until she woke up.

  As she was about to get into bed, her door chime sounded. She expected to see Raptor or Hawk, but the door opened to reveal Wren’s sparkling eyes and impish smile.

  “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.

  “Pr
etty 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.