Wings of Honor by Craig Andrews (black authors fiction .TXT) 📗

“No,” Squawks said. “It isn’t that. I’ve got them on, and I didn’t wash them either.”

“That’s disgusting,” Noodle said.

“Gotta keep the streak alive, you know?” Squawks added.

“What kind of streak are you talking about?” Tex asked.

“Okay, too far, too far,” Noodle said. But he was laughing. Laughing was good. Laughing kept them loose. Because Squawks was right—something did feel different.

“Stay sharp,” Coda said. “This one feels different because it’s bigger.”

He didn’t necessarily believe his own words, but they seemed to sate the growing concern among his wingmen. Like all good lies, there was just enough truth sprinkled in to make it sound credible. Of course, it really was a bigger hop, the largest they’d flown yet, and unless Coda was mistaken, it was about to turn into a real mess.

He glanced at his HUD. Twelve fighters made up two flights of six. He was flight leader of Alpha Flight, Tex the flight leader of Bravo. Their recent hops had put them up against increasingly numerous enemies, often outnumbering them by fifty percent. If that trend continued, how many enemies could they expect today? Sixteen? Twenty? The latter would mean more than thirty Nighthawks in the entire engagement. Not a small number by any stretch.

At the moment, though, the HUD was empty, showing only the green indicators of the two flights and the Proxima B’s moon to their left. Like Earth’s moon, its surface was rough and littered with craters, though instead of the light gray that Coda was accustomed to, Theseus was a mix of reds and oranges, almost like the surface of Mars.

Coda eyed it closely. According to their mission detail, an enemy mining colony existed on the back side of the moon, but intelligence was spotty, and they didn't know the size of its defensive force. The primary mission was to scout the moon and relay the information to Command, but if the mining station was vulnerable, they were to take it out. In Coda’s mind, that left only one option.

“Bravo One, Alpha One,” Coda said. “Tex, you copy?”

“Loud and clear, Coda.”

“You ready to see what they got cooking?”

“Is a frog’s ass watertight?”

“Say again, Tex?”

“Does Howdy Doody have wooden balls?”

“Uh…”

“Yes, you dumb Yankee!”

“All right,” Coda said, still more than a little confused. “Then take your flight around the moon, full burn, and we’ll meet you on the other side.”

“Sounds good, boss.”

The green indicators marking Tex’s flight on Coda’s HUD veered away, darting toward the moon.

“All right, Alpha Flight,” Coda said, “new coordinates coming your way. Keep the formation tight and stay on me.”

A series of affirmatives came in through the radio, and Coda punched it, settling in on a course that would have him rendezvous with Tex’s flight on the back side of the moon. The flight path brought them close enough to the moon that he could make out individual rock formations. Their red peaks glinted in the sunlight, hinting at the valuable metals beneath the surface. Like Proxima B, Theseus was critical to the Centauri system’s mining operation, and being the closest star system to Sol, the operation was one of the most important in the fleet.

“Entering communications blackout,” Tex said. “See you on the other side, Coda.”

Since they didn't have access to the satellite system orbiting the moon, the moon’s natural body would restrict their window of communication, creating dead zones proportionate to where the two forces were in relation to each other. For the next two minutes, each flight would be entirely alone.

“Acknowledged,” Coda said. “Good luck.”

The next two minutes felt like an eternity. Coda didn’t know what to expect, and his imagination ran amok. He imagined the entire squadron waiting for them, thirty-eight fighters ready to take on Coda’s twelve, and helmed by the commander himself. It would never happen, at least not this early in their training. Besides, Coda knew that his imagination was always worse than whatever reality held in store.

Except when it wasn’t.

“Coda!” Tex’s voice erupted on Coda’s radio. “Coda! Goddamn it, can you hear me? Requesting immediate assistance! I repeat, immediate assistance!”

“Coda copies.” He struggled to keep his voice even. “Approaching from the east, two degrees positive-Z in… fifteen seconds. I repeat, Alpha Flight, rendezvous in fifteen seconds.”

“Hurry, Coda,” Tex’s voice came again. “They're on us like a pent-up bull.”

Coda toggled his flight’s private frequency. “Be alert and prepare for contact. We’re coming in hot.”

The curve of the moon blocked their view of the battle, but after a few moments, it came into focus. From the distance, it looked like little more than a swarm of mosquitos flying above a pool of water, but as they sped closer, Coda was able to take in the full situation. His HUD showed almost thirty contacts, and it was changing every second as green dots disappeared and more reds materialized. It was a true rat’s nest, and even with Coda’s flight, their total forces would still be outnumbered nearly two to one. Fortunately, despite the previous panic in Tex’s voice, his flight appeared to be holding up better than expected.

The enemy had obviously known they were coming, but in space, there was only so much they could do to prepare. The enemy could come from any position, from any angle, at any time, and that meant defending forces were limited in the defensive measures they could prepare. Space combat had become a mano a mano fistfight built around three foundational pillars: track, deploy, and attack.

Coda had scratched off the first two. It was time to move to the third.

34

Cockpit, Nighthawk

Alpha Centauri System, Theseus

“Fighter pairs,” Coda said. “Target the pursuing fighters first. Let's get them off our friends’ backs. Prepare to break in… three, two, one, break.”

Coda’s formation broke into three pairs. Squawks, who was in the dash-two position, was his wingman, and together, they zipped into the fray. Toggling his weapons switch, Coda ensured it was set to missiles and let his computer select a nearby enemy fighter harassing one of Bravo Flight’s pilots. Then matching course, Coda performed