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,”
