Colb didn’t want the people of PAC command dead. And if he didn’t want to destroy the PAC, he had to be concerned about the Barony Coalition, which was its biggest immediate threat. That meant Colb must want the same thing that the rest of them did—to reestablish PAC command at headquarters. Keeping the allies from knowing there was a true danger. Preventing everything in the PAC zone from going to shit.
“He’s at Jamestown,” she said. “He’s gotten around your safeguards and he’s repairing it. If he succeeds, he’ll be the only person who can offer us a chance to keep the peace. We’d have to take it. Which would mean letting him run command his way.”
She ran through the logic a second time, looking for flaws. But nope. It was the only thing that made sense.
Krazinski said, “Jamestown will take months to repair. Even with an army of engineers he can’t hope to bring it back to full function and pretend nothing happened.”
Hesta spoke up. “He doesn’t need full function. He only needs to make it appear restored, and to lock you out. To make himself the face of salvation.”
“And give us no choice but to work for him,” Peregrine added.
“It makes sense.” Hawk didn’t seem happy about it, but he appeared entirely convinced. At least he wasn’t swearing.
Fallon assessed her people. Raptor, Peregrine, and Hawk looked ready to burst into action. She hadn’t been sure how Krazinski, Ross, and Hesta would take her conclusions. She didn’t have the same bond of trust with them. She hadn’t saved their lives repeatedly, as many times as they’d saved her life. She hadn’t worn their blood, or they hers.
But they sat up straight, with their shoulders back. Ready to roll.
Hesta was the first to speak. “Sounds like you all need to get your asses back to Jamestown Station.”
Fallon stood. “I’m ready. How about the rest of you?”
They stood.
“Good. Ross, you begin preflight on the Nefarious. Hawk and Peregrine, you’ll be in charge of getting your hands on any repair tools and parts that might be useful.”
Hawk frowned. “How do we know what gear we can grab, and what might be of use? We could use some engineering help.”
Fallon smiled. “I’m way ahead of you.”
Fallon sent Raptor to collect Kellis and Arin.
Krazinski’s job was to order any PAC vessels with firepower, whether military or not, that were within a day’s distance to maximum burn their way to Jamestown. Since he no longer had a direct connection to central command, that meant trying to track down individual ships that were within range. It was slow work, and Fallon could only hope Krazinski managed to rally some support.
Fallon didn’t know what kind of support Colb had behind him. There were far more unknowns than Fallon preferred for a mission. Precision strikes were more her style. But she had a target, and a final chance to save the PAC, and Prelin’s ass, she’d take it.
Which put her right back where it all started. In Wren’s maintenance bay. Wren wasn’t lying under some rust heap this time. She turned the moment Fallon walked in. Fallon watched Wren study her face. A crinkle appeared between Wren’s eyes as she stopped in front of her.
“What’s wrong?”
Three mechanics tried to pretend not to be listening. Fallon ignored them. “I need your help.”
Wren stiffened her spine and said, “Let’s go.”
Wren was already yanking things out of their tidy spots and piling them onto an anti-grav unit when Fallon left the shop. The other mechanics had been given the afternoon off and Hawk and Peregrine would arrive in minutes. That allowed Fallon to see to her other pre-mission errand.
“Do you have any other dirty tricks?” she asked.
To Cabot’s great credit, he didn’t bat an eye. He hadn’t minded ushering a customer out in the middle of a negotiation, either. The favors she owed him were stacking up.
“What kind of dirty tricks are you in the market for?” he inquired.
“The kind of thing that the hero uses to save the day and live to fight again, while saving the universe.”
“Oh, that kind of thing.” He nodded knowingly. “Unfortunately, I sold my last one the other day, but let me think what else I might have.”
The man was positively unflappable. He’d have made an excellent BlackOp.
“There might be something, depending on your specific needs. Would you like to follow me to my warehouse?” he asked.
Even under the circumstances, Fallon froze, staring at him. Cabot was notoriously secretive about his stockroom.
“Oh, come on now, Chief. It’s not like there are many secrets between us at this point.” He walked to the back of the store without even looking to see if she followed.
“There might be one or two.”
He waved a hand dismissively. She followed him behind the counter and into his secret sanctum. It didn’t look like much. Impressively organized rows of shelving stood stacked neatly with various boxes and items. Cabot strolled down the third row, stopped, and removed a box the size of a small suitcase. He returned to where she stood, next to a table, and set the box down. He gestured to it with a little flourish.
She unlatched the lid and removed it. “What the hell are you doing with two crystal-matrix converters?” The mechanisms that allowed the conversion to power interstellar flight were incredibly expensive. She hadn’t realized how successful a trader Cabot was.
“Waiting for the right buyer. I also have high-quality energy-transfer units to go with them. Both brand new, zero degradation. As you can imagine, it takes a special buyer to make this kind of purchase.” He smiled benignly.
“Yeah, I’d say so.” A ship’s value was largely based on its propulsion system, and this was pristine, high-quality equipment.
He rested a hand on the side of the box and nudged it toward her. “Take them. If speed is important. And if it isn’t, you can use one of these to create a rather impressive bomb. The
