by Zen DiPietro
Fallon shifted the food she carried and leaned against the lift wall. “I saw the report that he was leaving. Where’s he headed?”
“He’s got a job as a private mechanic on Caravon, working on the personal vehicles of a super-rich person. He’ll be on call at all times, but for the most part, he’ll just be keeping the newest models shiny. A huge salary for not much work. Living on Caravon will be no hardship, either.”
The lift doors opened to Deck Four. “You could get a job like that,” Fallon said as she led the way to her quarters.
“And be bored out of my mind? No thanks. I like the tough cases. Like the assembly block I was working on after the interviews.”
Fallon keyed in her credentials to unlock the door. “Taking out your frustration on an innocent engine?”
Wren laughed as she followed Fallon in. “Absolutely.” She glanced around, saw the table on the far side of the room, and sent Fallon a questioning look.
Fallon nodded, moving toward it. She noticed Wren taking stock of her new digs, but trying to be subtle about it. “I hope you’re feeling better now that the interviews are done.”
“Some.” Wren pushed her package onto the table and took a seat. “I thought having dinner with you would take the remaining edge off.”
Fallon unwrapped her bread and opened the container for her stew. “I wasn’t aware that my presence was particularly soothing.”
Wren smiled. “It’s not. But you always manage to make me forget about work stuff.”
“Do I?”
“It’s one of the things that’s always attracted me to you.” Wren opened her lightweight recyclable container and speared a vegetable from her sauté with her fork. “You fill a room with your presence and make it entirely impossible to ignore you. You give everything weight. Like this dinner. Just having this meal feels like something significant.”
“I never knew you felt that way.” Fallon put a spoonful of stew in her mouth and sighed as the rich flavors spread across her taste buds.
“I didn’t think of it that way until we were apart.” Wren shrugged, downplaying her words. “Sometimes you don’t think too hard about things when you’re happy. You take things as they are, you know?”
Fallon took her time chewing, then finally answered, “Yeah. Makes sense.”
A companionable silence fell between them for a few minutes.
“Tell me about that assembly block you were working on,” Fallon said.
Wren brightened and launched into a speech full of technobabble that Fallon could only somewhat follow. She’d known what she was getting herself into when she asked, though. Wren loved her work, and it made her happy to talk about it.
Fallon’s mild unease with Wren wore off. They knew each other well. They had history. Fallon still enjoyed her company and had nothing to be uptight about.
Wren paused in her description of phase transducers, tilting her head to one side. “What?”
“Nothing. I’m just having a nice time.”
A smile lit Wren’s face. “Me too.” Then she launched right back into her mechanic-speak.
At the end of the evening, Wren suggested it was time for her to go and there was a pause where Fallon could have suggested she stay. She didn’t. She wanted the evening to be only what it was, completely at face value. She didn’t feel like she and Wren were in the right place for there to be more.
At the door, Wren leaned in, cupped Fallon’s face, and gave her a light kiss. Fallon rested a hand on Wren’s waist.
Then Wren stepped back. “Good night,” she said softly, her cheeks pink.
The doors opened.
“Good night. Thanks for…this,” Fallon finished lamely.
Wren only smiled, turned, and disappeared from view.
Fallon walked back across the living room she shared with Peregrine, her steps slow and ponderous. She didn’t feel like sleeping. Or working, either.
She half perched on the arm of the couch, wondering what to do. A sound at the door drew her attention, and a moment later Peregrine entered.
The doors closed behind her and she sent Fallon a questioning look.
Fallon shrugged. “Trying to figure out what to do. I’m used to having clear-cut goals and the means to achieve them, and there are just too many shades of gray in my life right now.”
Peregrine bounced farther into the room on the balls of her feet, looking like a prizefighter. “Sounds like you need to go a few rounds to clear your head.”
Fallon touched her head in the general area where Brak had implanted the inducer that allowed her to access her memories. “I’m cleared for normal activity, but that nasty jab of yours probably isn’t a good idea until we’re sure this thing will stand up to a beating.”
Peregrine dropped her fighting stance. “Too bad. I could use a good bout, myself.”
“Why? Something wrong?”
“Nah. Not really. I just miss the old days. Taking out assassins before they could ice their targets, rappelling down the side of the building for a hasty retreat, taking important things from important people.”
“Getting shot at,” Fallon pointed out. Their typical work came with a drawback here and there.
“Yeah.” Peregrine sighed wistfully. Apparently she had fonder memories of dodging stinger blasts than Fallon did. “I don’t mind being stationed in one place. I just miss the action. We could use something to break up the monotony.”
“I know. Sometimes it feels like we’re stuck in a revolving door, spinning in circles.”
Peregrine sat on the other couch arm. “I don’t want to sound like I’m complaining, but yes. There have been plenty of jobs where we had to sit tight, waiting for an event to occur, and I don’t mind that because we know what we’re waiting for. In this case, I feel like we’re operating in a void. Wasting time with so much meeting and talking.” She hurried her next words. “Not that we don’t need the meetings. I just…”
“Hate them,” Fallon finished for her.
Peregrine’s lips twitched upward. “I wouldn’t say that. But yeah. I’d rather do less meeting and talking and more doing.”
“Me too. We’ll get there. We just need to persevere through this part. Krazinski knows we can do the action stuff. But he doesn’t know we’re more than highly trained beasts. He doesn’t know how much we’re capable of as a team.”
Peregrine ran her hand over her long ponytail. “We’re playing the long game. I know. But maybe your time as security chief here has prepared you for it better than the rest of us.”
“If I can adjust, so can you.”
“Maybe. I’m not counting on it, though.” When Fallon started to talk, Peregrine cut her off. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I’ll be here for whatever you need, giving it my best. I just don’t think I’m cut out for bureaucracy is all I’m saying.”
“None of us planned on being administrators. We’re just working the op in the only way we can.” If Fallon could have left all these meetings and planning sessions to someone else, she surely would have. And while she was wishing, she’d wish away her memory loss, too. But wishes were for children and fairy tales. All Fallon had was cold, hard reality.
Peregrine stood. “I’m not railing against my circumstances. I’m just wondering what it means for the future.” She sighed. “I know I have too much time on my hands when I’m thinking about the future.”
“How about we go to the training rooms and work on some target practice?”
“Stingers or knives?” Peregrine asked.
“Either. Both.”
The crinkle between Peregrine’s eyes finally smoothed. “Go grab your knives.”
Fallon fell into bed tired, but satisfied. Target practice always made her happy, and Peregrine’s spirits seemed to have lifted, as well.
She half expected Raptor to pull his nighttime commando routine as she drifted to sleep, but it was a call from Colb that woke her two hours before her usual time.
“What is it?” she asked th
e voicecom display in her room, using an audio-only feed. Colb didn’t need to see what she looked like first thing in the morning.
“I’ve figured it out. How we can get in. Meet me in my quarters in ten minutes.”
The channel closed. Admirals were accustomed to giving an order and having everyone scramble to obey.
If she hurried, she’d have time to take a quick shower and smooth out her hair.
Eight and a half minutes later, she settled herself in Colb’s quarters, which were a mirror of her own, but unshared by a roommate. Another privilege of the admiralty.
Peregrine and Ross were already there, and Hawk and Raptor followed within moments of each other.
“I’ll get right to it.” Colb paced the quarters in a leisurely fashion. “I’ve been trying to work out how to get into Jamestown, given that Krazinski will be watching for us, and will have changed everything specifically to keep us out.”
They waited, letting the admiral have his moment.
“I’ve worked through every scenario, and I kept coming to the same conclusion: it can’t be done. There’s no way for us to break in.”
Fallon exchanged a look with her team. She wondered where Colb was going with this. She’d been working scenarios as well and had come up with two plans that had a chance of success. Not that she would share that information with Colb.
“So what are we going to do?” she asked.
“We have to get them to let us in. So I’m going to tell Krazinski that a taste of life on the outside has convinced me to rejoin him. You five will be my supposed peace offering, led here under the guise of attacking him.”
It sounded awfully thin to Fallon. She was supposed to believe that Colb thought Krazinski would actually take him back into the organization under those circumstances. Once trust was broken in intel, there was no mending fences.
But Colb wasn’t a field operative. He saw things from a more top-down perspective, where everything he said was law, and it was the job of people like her to accept it.
Agreeing too easily might make him suspicious, so she said, “How do you know Krazinski won’t kill you anyway?”
He paused in his pacing and drew himself up. “I don’t. He might. But the doors will have been opened, so to speak, and the rest of you will have your chance.”
Ah, so he was pretending to be willing to sacrifice himself for the greater good. That was clever, actually. A group of BlackOps would buy into heroism and martyrdom, right?
But she said, “We won’t be able to plan the assault. We have no idea what we’ll be dealing with in there.”
“It’s the chance we have. We’ll have to find a way,” Colb said.
Fallon had to give the man credit—he looked sincere. Stalwart. Prepared to fight the good fight.
“When do we get under way?” she asked.
As Fallon prepared to leave Dragonfire, she had to deal with reality. Colb’s plan was a lie, but the danger was real. There was a reasonable possibility she wouldn’t return.
She felt the need to make a few visits before she left. Fortunately, she had two hours before departure time. That would allow her to get done what she needed to, without allowing her to drag it out.
Captain Nevitt’s office was her first stop. Naturally, Hesta had some opinions on the matter.
“Your doubt is duly noted,” Fallon said. “It is risky. But I’m accustomed to calculated risk, and this course of action gives us the best chance of success.”
Nevitt wore her patented look of dubious disdain. “I shudder to think what your second and third choice plans were.”
Fallon smiled. “We’ll not speak of them. Anyway, I’ve left you some files in case I don’t return. Things that will help you know who you can or can’t trust, and details about station security. There’s also a program to return the station’s systems to normal once Colb has disembarked.”
“I appreciate all that. I can only hope you’re successful. For the good of the PAC, but also because I want to see you back here.”
“Thank you, Cap—Hesta. I plan to come back.”
“See that you do.” Hesta’s words were crisp, but her expression showed concern.
Fallon’s visit with Brak and Jerin was brief and to the point. She filled them in on her upcoming mission and instructed them on what to watch for and how best to protect the Onari from the war that would come if Fallon didn’t return.
Both gave her hugs and well wishes. Fallon was glad they had each other to talk to. She knew firsthand how lonely it could be to keep a secret to herself.
Her next stop would be a trickier one. On the way down to Cabot’s shop, she tried to decide what to say. With the others it had been easier, since the relationships were defined. With Cabot, she had more questions than answers, but in her gut she trusted him to be a man of good character, although of sketchy means.
He gave her a knowing look when she entered his shop, and he closed the door to give them privacy.
“What can I do for you today, Chief?”
“To be honest, I’m not sure. But I’m leaving the station and felt like I should say goodbye.”
He gave a slight nod. “Are you thinking of not returning?”
“Not on purpose. But you never know. If I don’t come back…”
“I’ll look after your friends and the station.”
She smiled. “And yourself. Things could get bad if this goes wrong. Very bad.”
“I understand. But I’m expecting to see you back, so I won’t stress too much just yet.”
“If I do return, a lot of things will change. I might even have a job for you.”
He raised a sardonic eyebrow. “I already have a job.”
“So you wouldn’t be interested?”
He leaned in closer, as if preparing to tell her a secret. “Oh, I very much would be interested.”
“Good.”
“Good.” His demeanor never changed from pleasant and obliging. She could only wonder what all lay beneath his shopkeep persona—and she did believe it to be a persona.
“I’ll be on my way.”
“Best wishes, Chief. And don’t forget that charm I gave you.” He looked at her meaningfully.
“Got it in my pocket,” she assured him.
“Ah, good.”
She caught a hint of fierceness in his eyes before turning to leave.
In an uncharacteristic burst of uncertainty, Fallon waffled back and forth about the last goodbye on her list. In the end, she decided she’d been a bad enough wife to Wren as it was. She didn’t want to disappear forever without saying goodbye. Not that she was going to. But just in case. A BlackOp never knew which mission would be her last.
She found Wren in the mechanics’ shop. When Wren turned to see Fallon, her eyes widened with fear. Clearly, she had some inkling about what was to come.
“Here we are, where we first met,” Fallon said as she approached her former wife.
“Why? What’s happening?” Wren’s voice was a whisper, even though no one else was close enough to overhear.
“I have something I need to do.”
“No. Don’t go.”
“It’s not optional. But I wanted to tell you goodbye in person.”
Wren rubbed a hand over her forehead, smearing a thin streak of grease across her skin. It made Fallon smile. “Don’t say goodbye. That makes it sound permanent. Just say you love me and you’ll see me soon.”
Could she say that? With the messy past between them, and her not really knowing what they were to each other? The feeling was there, but saying it would be skipping way ahead of where their relationship currently was.
But whether they ever worked as a couple or not, she’d always feel deeply for Wren. So she hedged. “I do feel for you. It isn’t perfect and it isn’t easy, but I do.”
Wren smiled. “I’ll let you get away with not actually saying it.”
Fallon laughed. Wren was the most resilient person she’d ever known. She would always find h
er way forward, no matter what. “I’ll see you soon.”
With her goodbyes said and her just-in-case messages created, Fallon narrowed her focus on what she had to do. She had no idea what would unfold, but it would be big. After these months waiting to go toe-to-toe with Blackout, she was more than ready to go back to where it had all started.
It would take the Nefarious four days to reach Jamestown. They could get to headquarters sooner if they were willing to burn out some of the ship’s components, but the team had agreed that doing so would be a risk that outweighed its benefits. Colb had pushed for greater speed, but quickly backed down when he saw that the consensus was against him.
They had a few hidden assets that Colb didn’t know about, and she hoped that would be enough to keep them a step ahead of him. She carried the electricity suppressor Cabot had given her. Kellis had installed the sensor blocker Hawk had acquired for them after the pirate attack. It would make it a lot harder to see the Nefarious coming. Such a device was illegal to have within the PAC zone, but being brought to trial for owning contraband was the least of Fallon’s worries. The fact that she seemed to be developing a habit of acquiring illegal items struck her as ironically amusing.
Hopefully, their surprises and their awareness of Colb’s duplicity would keep them alive. Some well-placed vainglory didn’t hurt either, and Fallon had faith in her team. This would be their biggest adventure yet. If it all worked out, Hawk would have some fantastic stories to tell at the bar.
The closer they got to PAC command, the higher her adrenaline soared. By the final day, she couldn’t sleep. Her senses clanged with awareness. She was ready to work.
She was reluctant to relinquish the bridge of the Nefarious to Peregrine at the end of her shift. She wanted to see everything, be on top of every detail. But they were surrounded only by empty space, so she rose from the pilot’s chair.
“We’ll be there soon,” Peregrine observed. “Are you ready?”
“I’ve been ready for months.”
Peregrine smoothed her long ponytail as she sat. “Ever wonder what life looks like for us once we’re done with all this?”