Lost Alliance (Dragonfire Station Books 1-3): A Galactic Empire series
Page 73
Jerin had also stepped up to serve the PAC. She brought her whole crew to the party, too. Jerin, while captaining the Onari as before, had become a PAC health ambassador. She would help speed the entry of worlds into the PAC by helping them develop their health programs. She would get to continue helping those who most needed it, while saying goodbye to her financial issues. And her home port would remain Dragonfire Station.
Not everything was starshine and rainbows, though. The Barony Coalition had continued its efforts to undermine the PAC, and they’d had moderate success in whipping up dissent among PAC members regarding broken treaties.
These were dicey times. Fallon felt like the PAC was poised at the top of a huge hill, and it wouldn’t take much for it to begin a long descent. She could envision two futures for the PAC. One where the difficulties were handled, and the PAC became stronger, safer, and more beneficial to all of its members. And one where tensions burned through the ties that had once bound, plunging planets and galaxies into war.
But both possibilities always existed, in every society. She could only hope that unity won out. She’d sure do whatever she could to make that happen, as would all the amazing people she’d met over the past two years. Along with the people she’d long had faith in. They were equal to the task, and she was proud to be among them.
She saw Cabot wave from inside his shop as she resumed her stroll down the concourse. She waved back, then shot him one of Trin’s finger guns, just for fun.
He laughed and returned the gesture. Which seemed to imply that he knew Trin fairly well. Funny.
She returned to the quarters she still shared with Peregrine after her rounds. She was no longer chief of security, and her office now belonged to Arin. But she liked to maintain her tradition of walking the boardwalk every day. It felt like home to her, and she suspected that her daily habit contributed to the feeling of home for many of its residents.
Home. That reminded her of a message she’d been meaning to send.
She sat down at the voicecom display in her room.
“Hi, Dad. I’m thrilled that you and Mom are transferring to Jamestown. It will be fantastic to have you so nearby. And by the time you make it there, it will be better than new and almost entirely staffed. I think you’ll like Jamestown. And Sarkan is near enough for shore leaves so you’ll be able to get planetside on a regular basis. I can’t wait to show it to you—you’re going to love it. Especially Mom. You might never get her to leave the beach.” She smiled at the thought.
“Let me know when you’ve arrived and I’ll come see you at Jamestown. We have a lot of catching up to do. And there’s someone I want you to meet. Well, two people, but you met one of them last time I saw you. Anyway, I look forward to hearing back from you.”
She smiled, waved, then closed the channel. She started to call Hawk to invite him for a drink that evening. It had been a while since they’d done that and they were overdue. Before she could open a channel to him, an incoming message lit up her display. She answered it.
Raptor’s face filled her screen. He looked fantastic, as if he’d never caught a stinger blast that should have killed him. “Hey. I’ve got a line on that doctor Lim said helped him escape. Want to come to my quarters?”
“Be there in a minute.”
The screen went blank. She had to laugh. After everything she and her team had been through, there was always more to be done.
Thank goodness. They’d never be satisfied with anything else.
Blood and bone.
About the Author
Zen DiPietro is a lifelong bookworm and writer. Perhaps most importantly, a Browncoat Trekkie Whovian. Also red-haired, left-handed, and a vegetarian geek. Absolutely terrible at conforming. A recovering gamer, but we won’t talk about that. Particular loves include badass heroines, British accents, and the smell of Band-Aids.
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Thank you for reading!
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Zen DiPietro