“I thought as much.” Fallon reclined into the sofa cushions. “I’ll have to hope that isn’t the key I need.”
“I could manufacture an implant like it, modeled on the research from the lab. Theoretically.”
Fallon didn’t have to think about it. “No. Bringing more stuff like that into existence is the opposite of what we’re trying to do. Besides, I could never ask that of you.”
“Good. I’m not sure I could have actually brought myself to do it.”
“I’m glad we won’t need to find out,” Fallon agreed. “Do you have any ideas what else ‘put your head to the ground’ could mean?”
“There’s an old saying on Briv.” Brak executed a series of words, growls, and tonal sounds that Fallon could never hope to reproduce. “Roughly translated, it means, ‘She who keeps her head near the ground, can best protect her eggs.’ It’s generally used to caution a young person to be patient.”
“Hm.” Fallon thought it over. “It’s possible that Krazinski was telling me to be patient and wait for my opportunity. Or that I need to stay in place and protect what’s in front of me.”
“Either would seem to make sense. But which would it be?”
“I don’t know. It could be neither. I’ll have to keep looking.” Fallon rubbed her fingers over the short side of her hair.
“I’ll help with whatever I can,” Brak said.
Fallon started to thank her, but her voicecom display made a sharp sound that she’d only ever heard during practice drills. But no drills were scheduled. She and Brak locked eyes, then rushed to the display on her desk.
Admiral Sokolov, Commanding General of the PAC, appeared on the screen. He looked like a kindly yet regal grandfather with his steely hair and gentle gaze.
“Citizens of the Planetary Alliance Cooperative, and friends. Today I must inform you that our government has been the recipient of a terrorist threat that we deemed highly credible. Do not be alarmed by this. We are strong, and always prepared to protect every station and every planet within our alliance.
“Once we verified the threat as credible, we immediately instituted the necessary protocols to ensure our collective safety. Jamestown has been vacated and temporarily disabled, so that no combatant may use it for their own purpose.” His kindly face showed no worry, and his voice was as warm and smooth as a hundred-year-old Sarkavian brandy.
“Do not be alarmed. This is a protocol that keeps PAC command and the entire cooperative safe and strong. Anyone who attempts to attack us, I can assure you, will not succeed. As always, if you have any personal concerns, please contact your local representative, who is already aware of the situation, and your concerns will be addressed.” He paused, smiled, and said, “We are already on the trail of these terrorists, and will bring them to justice. Even a mere threat to the PAC will not go unanswered. Good day, my friends and family.”
The message ended. Brak clacked her teeth in agitation. “That guy’s so smooth, I could almost believe him.”
“Me too.” Fallon understood why command had been forced to issue a statement. Any day, someone might notice that something was wrong at Jamestown. She only hoped that Sokolov’s statement fended off panic.
“Do you think local representatives were already contacted?” Brak asked.
“No. Maybe leaders of PAC bases. Major installations. Everyone else will be expected to play along and say that yes, of course they’re well aware, and there’s nothing to worry about.”
“Funny government you have,” Brak said.
“Hey, your world is a PAC member too, even though you maintain your own planetary government. Most of the time, PAC procedure works. But in times of crisis, a few corners get cut here and there.”
Fallon watched as messages for her began to roll in. They started as a trickle, then became a stream. “I see my work is cut out for me for the rest of the day.”
Brak chuckled. “I’ll let you get started. I have my own work to do.”
“What are you working on now?”
“A pair of cybernetic legs. Farming accident.”
Fallon cringed. “You’re a good person, Brak.”
After Brak left, she indulged herself in a sigh of resignation before answering the first message.
Fallon made a station-wide announcement to reassure everyone, and thought she did a damn good job of it. She even tied in the “training drill” that had locked the station down, explaining it as an abundance of caution and preparedness. She continued responding to messages. Mostly, people just wanted to be reassured. Each time she talked to someone, she felt their tension ease.
Not that people weren’t still worried. They’d have to be idiots not to be concerned about their government disabling its own headquarters and moving to a secret location. But near-panic ebbed to reasonable levels of worry. No doubt the same scenario was playing out in thousands of locations across the PAC zone.
Those other locations weren’t Fallon’s problem, though. She squeezed a meeting with Avian Unit, Ross, and Hesta into her schedule.
In her office she told them, “I think we’re at the point that we need to let Arin know everything that’s going on. I see no benefit in continuing to keep him innocent of our plans.”
Unanimous agreement. Good.
“Per PAC protocol, I will increase training drills, both for security staff, officers, and residents of the station. People would find it odd if I didn’t.”
More agreement.
“Am I missing anything?” She looked from one face to the next.
“Any thoughts on finding Colb?” Hesta asked.
“It’s a big universe,” Hawk said.
“He won’t return to Zerellus,” Peregrine added. “He’ll be looking for someplace where he can disappear.”
“Yeah. He’s not going to leave any trail for us.” Fallon wished it could be as easy as tracking him down. “We have to talk to Krazinski. He has the bigger picture in all this.
