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

by Zen DiPietro

  “The good news,” Fallon whispered to Wren, who lay flat in the tighter part of the conduit, “is that this side is not secured. It’s a regular old hatch. All we have to do is drop in on Colb. Literally.” The opening was in the ceiling of crisis ops, which meant she’d have to lower herself from it, then drop another meter and a half to the floor. The plus side of that was that she could do it quickly and quietly, and hopefully take Colb by surprise.

  Wren nodded.

  “First, I’m going to get a look in there, to see what’s going on.” She put on a pair of glasses and removed a coil of wire attached to a tiny display from her backpack. Attached to the wire was a tiny camera. Carefully, to avoid any scraping sounds, Fallon fed it though the air delivery grate.

  Rotating it slowly around, she saw that Colb was, in fact, not alone. Nine large toughs surrounded him where he sat in the command chair. Damn. Zooming in on faces, she recognized the surviving members of Stone Unit and three members of Ice Unit, plus three unknowns. Double damn. She could take on six average bruisers, but not six BlackOps plus three others.

  She blew out a breath. Okay. Different tactic. She didn’t need to beat them. She only needed to get crisis ops out of lockdown mode so her reinforcements on the other side could get in.

  Right. No problem.

  “Wrinkle in the plan,” she whispered to Wren. “I was going to tell you to stay up here, but that clearly won’t work. Since we’re both dead if you don’t come down with me, we’re going to have to do that.”

  “Wow, great pep talk,” Wren whispered back.

  Fallon had to hand it to her. The woman had nerve. “Best you’re going to get today. I’m going to drop in and keep the people down there busy. I need you to get crisis ops open to let the others in.” She pulled a stinger from her belt. “You know how to use one of these, right?”

  “Sure, it’s like a laser torch. But instead of cutting metal, I cut people.” She looked unhappily resigned to that idea.

  “More or less. It’s set to lethal force. You only have to hit them once, unless they’re wearing dissipators. If they are, you’ll need to switch to that torch of yours. Just don’t hit me, and don’t hit Colb. Unless you have no choice but to take Colb out. But really, really don’t hit me.”

  “Right. Take out everyone, including you. Got it.”

  If Wren didn’t stop that, Fallon would start to think she was cut out for this kind of work.

  “I’ll need the torch for a minute.” When Wren handed it to her, she carefully sliced the bolts holding the intake hatch in place.

  After handing the torch to Wren, she turned backward to the opening on her knees. “This is going to happen fast, but time will probably feel like it’s slowed down. At least that’s how it happens for me. Good luck.”

  Wren scooted closer, getting ready to occupy the space when Fallon left it. “So I’m about to see the business end of what you really do.”

  “Fraid so. Can you handle it?” Fallon knew full well that most people couldn’t deal with seeing that kind of action.

  “Yeah. Blood and bone, or whatever it is you all say.”

  Fallon grinned at her. “Blood and bone.”

  She lifted the hatch and moved it aside, then palmed her second stinger. With her other hand she slid a knife from her belt. She nodded to Wren and dropped to the floor of crisis ops.

  She hit one with her stinger center mass during her drop. No help there. They were wearing dissipators. Damn. That would make this job harder.

  She threw the stinger at one and the knife at another. The blade stuck right into the throat of the closest BlackOp. At least the stinger distracted the other for a moment.

  In the seconds it took for them to advance on her, she grabbed two more knives and launched them into two more throats. They landed true, and she was down to six opponents. Plus Colb, but she was barely aware of him while she tracked her bigger threats.

  Two came into range of her within two seconds of her landing, with two more only steps away. The last two remained with Colb.

  No more room for knife throwing. It would be close combat from here on out. On the plus side, they couldn’t use ranged weapons either. No one had tried using a stinger so they either recognized her dissipator or just assumed she wore one.

  Her first priority was to reverse positions with them. She needed them facing away from the hatch to give Wren a chance. She launched herself into the air. She tucked her knees in sideways to her body, executing a head-over-heels flip that had her landing on a voicecom terminal.

  She dodged a punch from the man on her left and delivered a kick to his throat. Her stance on the console gave her a vantage point. He went down choking for breath. Unfortunately that left her open to the second person, who landed a solid punch to Fallon’s chest, knocking her off the terminal. At least it pushed her closer to the far wall, drawing the others toward her and away from Wren.

  She landed awkwardly on one foot, which required her to adjust to balance. It also caused her to take another hard hit, in the same spot as the last one. Her chest felt like it had caved in.

  But now on level ground, she mounted her own offensive. She threw the most vicious combo she had in her arsenal. Kick, jab, cross, feint, and a left hook to the temple. The woman stumbled back, giving Fallon the advantage. Before she could follow it up, the one she’d kicked in the throat came at her back. She sensed him more than she heard or saw him. She bent at the waist, reaching for the floor. Using momentum and her increased reach, she kicked her right foot up, catching him in the chin and sending him falling backward.

  And here came the one she’d hit with the stinger. Dammit. They were too many, too fast. Wren had dropped and begun working at a science station, and Fallon hoped she could work fast. She estimated they had less than half a minute.

  She backed up, making as much noise as she could to keep their attention on her and not on what was going on behind them. She threw punches and dodged theirs, but she was only marking time. She was the bait, and she knew she’d get eaten eventually. They converged on her, and she knew she didn’t have much time now. If only they would politely come at her one by one or in pairs, like in the holo-vids.

  Another hit to the chest made her wonder how many broken ribs she had. A punch to the head muffled the sounds around her and made her vision dim. Yeah, that was bad. But she couldn’t pull herself together enough to block the hits she saw coming her way. She felt the impacts as they came, but less and less as things grew blurrier. Huh. So this was how it felt to lose a fight. All she could do now was remain on her feet as long as possible.

  Dimly she was aware of a pause in the hits, like a missed beat in a drum cadence. She shook her head, trying to process what was happening around her. The door had opened. Hawk flew in first and destroyed the two that came at him, like a chef tenderizing meat. Peregrine bolted past him to yank one of Fallon’s assailants away and tackle her. Somewhere in the background Krazinski jumped in with Hawk while Ross took on the one she’d tried to shoot with the stinger. She watched it all, dumb and confused, as if it were a hazy dream.

  Raptor took on the last of Colb’s flunkies, the one Fallon had thought would end up killing her.

  She staggered back against the wall, wiping her hand over her right eye. It came away with blood on it.

  She closed both eyes for a moment, struggling to center herself in real time.

  Finally remembering to look for Colb, she stepped away from the bulkhead. As soon as she focused on him, time slowed to a crawl. She saw his hand, holding a stinger pointed toward Wren. She couldn’t see Wren, but her exact position was burned into Fallon’s awareness.

  She needed answers only Colb had. Needed them for herself and the entire PAC. But she’d watch everything burn before she’d let Wren die.

  Her harpoon gun had appeared in her hand, and she didn’t pause a microsecond before pulling the trigger. It flew across the brief space and landed in Colb’s chest, the force of it causing him to fall b
ackward. His stinger came alive as he fell, snaking a bright arc of energy in Wren’s direction. He hit the ground and the stinger’s blast cut off abruptly as the weapon tumbled out of his hand.

  As much as she wanted to go to Wren, she had to finish the job. Her vision and mind clear now, she bolted to Colb, her gun still pointed at him even though she hadn’t reloaded it.

  “No need,” he gasped. The old, familiar face of Uncle Masumi looked at her sadly. “I’ve got a minute. Maybe two.”

  “Why did you do all this?” she asked.

  “You’ll see when you get older. Spouses die. Friends move on. Children grow up and become strangers. You always end up…alone.” He coughed hard and blood came up, coating his lip and chin. “Only the mark you leave on your civilization stays. I tried to ensure the PAC’s survival.”

  “You’ve threatened its survival. We’ll be lucky if we can avoid interstellar war. That’s your legacy.”

  He coughed again and gasped hard for breath. “…wrong. Wait and see.”

  She leaned down to hear his weakening voice. “What do you mean?”

  But the light in his eyes had gone out. She straightened.

  Her heart froze. Wren. Oh, no. Was she too late? She turned and ran. As she approached, she saw eyes full of grief and sympathy.

  Wren’s pale eyes looked up at her, tortured. “I’m so sorry.” She moved aside.

  Fallon fell to her knees beside Raptor. His skin had gone a sickly color.

  “He dove in front of me,” Wren murmured.

  Words poured out of Fallon’s mouth. “No, no, no! Raptor!” Her throat burned as she framed his face with her hands. Traces of her blood smudged onto his skin. “Why did you do that?”

  His eyes didn’t open, but his lips moved slightly. “You love her.”

  He went limp.

  “Oh, hell no!” Fallon yelled at Raptor. “You are not dying on me!” She looked around wildly. “Where’s his backpack?”

  Someone found it and brought it to her. She tore it open and grabbed the packages of nanopods and the injector. She slammed every damn nanopod they had into him.

  “Fallon.” Hawk touched her shoulder. “Don’t torture him. That was a maximum-setting blast. He can’t…” His words trailed off. “He’s not breathing,” he said carefully. He probably sensed that telling her that Raptor couldn’t survive it would have a bad effect on her.

  “Then someone had better fucking start breathing for him!” she shouted. “He wouldn’t give up, if it were us, and we’re not giving up on him.” Her cheeks were wet. She impatiently swiped her hands over them but was surprised to see little blood on them.

  It was Krazinski who knelt by Raptor’s head and put a respirator over his face as she wiped her hands on her thighs.

  “Per, inform the Roosevelt that we need medevac. Immediately.” The docking of the Roosevelt would probably take more time than Raptor had. Maybe it was already too late. The rest of them thought so. But she wouldn’t stop trying until a doctor forced her to.

  She measured the time in the artificial breaths that Krazinski supplied. Wren put a flat silver disk on Raptor’s chest and gave him regular shock-pulse charges, keeping his body’s electrical system online and forcing his heart to contract. So Fallon counted those too. Breath, pulse charge, breath, pulse charge.

  Wren was on her knees above Raptor’s head, stroking his hair and whispering in his ear.

  Fallon almost wished he was bleeding. That would give her something to do, trying to patch him up. But she could do nothing for him but count and wait.

  Finally the Roosevelt’s medical crew arrived and took over, saying a lot of medical words. Fallon recognized enough of the words to be terrified in a way she’d never felt in her whole life. She trailed the medical workers, refusing to be more than a few feet away from Raptor. As if she could keep him alive by sheer will, if only she were close enough.

  On the Roosevelt, her team and the others went somewhere while she followed Raptor to the infirmary. Time passed. She had no awareness of how much.

  She heard more medical words like broken ribs and internal bleeding and concussion and suddenly all the attention was on her. She wanted no part of those words. The only words she wanted were, “He’s going to be fine.”

  She refused to leave him, so the medical staff had to work on her sitting up. She heard soft murmurings including her name in the far corners of the infirmary. She didn’t care. Fuck their words. Fuck everything if Raptor wasn’t with her. The medical staff changed out, then changed again. She never took her eyes off him.

  She nearly fell off the stool when his eyes opened a crack. She stood and leaned in close to him. “Raptor?”

  He whispered something but she couldn’t hear it.

  “What?”

  He managed three louder, rusty-sounding words. “You look awful.”

  She took what felt like the first breath she’d taken since he’d been shot. “So do you.”

  “You smell awful too.”

  “Well, you stink worse than I do.”

  “Good.” A ghost of a smile haunted his mouth. “I’m going to sleep now. You go clean yourself up. Didn’t anyone tell you it’s unbecoming of an officer to look so shitty?”

  She laughed. “Pretty sure that was the first thing we learned at the academy. I’ll go clean up if you promise me you won’t die while I’m gone.”

  “Deal. No dying today.”

  It was only after his eyes closed again that she realized how much her body ached.

  “What I’d really like is some blistercakes.” Fallon frowned at her soup. It didn’t even have meat in it.

  “Soup first,” Wren insisted, taking a spoon from the tray she’d placed on the foot of Fallon’s bed and handing it to her. “It’s chock full of Bennite vegetables, and will help restore your energy. Brannin says you two can try a little walking tomorrow. If you try today, I’ll send you right back to the infirmary.”

  Fallon scowled, but put a spoonful of soup into her mouth. Sure, it was delicious, but blistercakes would really hit the spot.

  “I ate all my soup.” Reclining next to her, Raptor sounded far too obedient. He held the bowl out for Wren, who took it and set it gently on the tray. “Can I have blistercakes?”

  Wren beamed at him. “Yes! I’ll go get them.” She pointed at Fallon and said sternly, “Every drop or you’ll get nothing else! You could take some lessons from Raptor on being a good patient.” She and Raptor shared a look of mutual admiration.

  Fallon turned her scowl on him after Wren left. “Why are you even in my quarters? You should be up already. You didn’t even have any broken bones.”

  “Yeah, I nearly died, that’s all.” He scoffed at her. “You’re such a baby with your broken ribs.”

  “And wrist and fingers. And a touch of fractured skull. But if it helps you to call me a baby, then fine.”

  He pretended to glare at her, then broke into a grin. “Tell you what. I’ll sneak you a blistercake.”

  She smiled. “Sounds perfect. Don’t tell Wren.”

  “I won’t. We’d both get in trouble.”

  They laughed. Not because it was really that funny, but because this was how they talked, and they understood each other perfectly.

  26

  Coalescence Chapter 11

  Fallon paused during her midday rounds on the boardwalk to just look at it. At all the different species, the throngs of visitors, and the fantastic people who lived right here in her little community. It couldn’t have been more beautiful.

  She missed Brak, who had left a week ago with her PAC commendation in hand to visit her homeworld. Fallon hoped it went the way Brak wanted. She looked forward to hearing all about it when Brak returned to take an advisory role with Blackout.

  Krazinski and the rest of Blackout had taken residence on Dragonfire. It was a new but exciting change that had enlivened the entire station. They only knew PAC intelligence had moved in, but that was plenty thrilling all by itself.
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  The new citizens of Dragonfire had been housed on Deck Four. It gave her fewer accommodations to assign to ambassadors, admirals, and other VIPs, but she was fine with that. While Jamestown was being repaired, this was the perfect place for Blackout to operate. Fallon intended to campaign for keeping Blackout on the station permanently, separate from the rest of PAC command. But later, after command had gotten used to Blackout being on Dragonfire. Sometimes, in battle, timing was everything.

  Lim was still working out his new existence. He’d chosen to remain with Blackout, at least for the time being. He might find a new calling in life, but meanwhile he had become very popular on the station. Arin was trying to recruit him for security.

  Most of Jamestown’s remaining staff had been temporarily housed at the Tokyo base. That worked well, since a good deal of restaffing and restructuring was required. Tokyo was an excellent place to find replacements. Meanwhile, new oversight would be created, as well as new protocols for Blackout and all other branches of intelligence.

  Fallon continued walking, only to pause again near the Tea Leaf. She stared at the table she and Wren preferred. She missed Wren. But the PAC could do no better than to have Wren on Jamestown, ensuring the repairs got done not just on schedule, but ahead of it.

  Kellis was also helping, even while she received officer training. It was an unusual setup, but Kellis was an unusual and exceptional person.

  Fallon was still surprised that Hesta had turned down an offer for a promotion and a position at headquarters once Jamestown was repaired. Hesta had counteroffered to be an asset for Blackout, and remain as the captain of Dragonfire.

  Fallon had accepted a promotion of sorts on Dragonfire. She was now the chief of operations. It was a new position on the station, but it allowed her to appoint Arin as the chief of security. She would maintain oversight of the department, but daily operations would be up to him. Which freed her up to do more administrative work for the PAC. She’d taken the time, though, to set up an internship program for one Nixabrin Maringo. Young Nix gave Fallon hope for the future.