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

him as the Jamestown grew at an alarming rate.

This is going to hurt, Coda thought, squeezing his eyes shut.

The last thing he saw before shooting into the landing bay was the giant net that had been erected in its center. Then there was groaning, crashing, sparks, and above all, incredible, excruciating pain, followed by deep, impenetrable darkness.

36

Sick Bay, SAS Jamestown

Alpha Centauri System, Proxima B, High Orbit

Coda’s eyelids felt as if they were weighed down with lead weights. It took nearly everything he had to open them, and when he finally succeeded, keeping them open was twice as difficult. The blinding white light wasn’t doing him any favors, either.

He found himself in sick bay, surrounded by empty gurneys and a distracted medical staff. Unlike the rest of the Jamestown, the sick bay was pristine. No industrial walls accented with the signs of old battles. No dated equipment or furniture. The place was immaculate. Everything was white or chrome, and it all seemed to be alive, glistening from the lights of the various monitors and equipment spread throughout the room.

A nurse appeared at his side. She laid a hand on his forehead and shushed him, telling him to take it easy, then brought a small cup of water up to his dry lips. The water was cool and soothing and felt like heaven as it tamed his scratchy throat.

“Thanks,” Coda said once he’d drunk his fill. “How long have I been out?”

“Shhh,” she said again. “Save your questions.”

“For what?”

The telltale sound of a door hissing open caught her attention, and she looked up. “For him.”

Coda followed her eyes, spotting a thickly built man with closely cropped black and white hair and ebony skin. Commander Coleman. Coda swallowed reflexively, but the commander’s customary hard expression softened when he saw Coda was alert.

“Sir,” Coda said, trying to sit up to give him a proper salute.

“No,” Commander Coleman said, stopping beside Coda’s bed. “No need for that.”

Coda was thankful for the commander’s sudden lack of military decorum. The movement had hurt.

“How are you feeling?” Commander Coleman asked as the nurse left to go back to whatever she’d been doing before Coda had woken up.

Coda laughed softly, and even that stirred more pain. “Funny. I was just thinking my body felt like a giant bruise.”

“Something that’s not far from the truth, I’m afraid. There’s a reason we don’t practice emergency landings. They’re… painful.”

Coda couldn’t argue with him there. “How bad is it?”

The commander shrugged. “You had some significant bruising, a couple broken ribs, multiple lacerations, separated shoulder, whiplash, and a minor concussion. Nothing too serious.”

Nothing too serious. Any one of the ailments the commander had mentioned would have been enough to send anyone to the doctor. With all of them combined, there was no telling how long he was going to be grounded. Still, even as pained as he was, he didn’t feel as bad as the commander’s words suggested.

“How long have I been out?”

“Two days. You’re healing quite nicely.”

Two days. That wasn’t enough time to heal but only the most minor of cuts. What exactly are they pumping me full of? The thought brought another to the front of his mind. “How’s Moscow?”

“Moscow’s fine. Better than you. He was discharged this morning.”

Coda closed his eyes, nodding. The pain was worth it then.

“That was a brave thing you did,” Commander Coleman said. “And for someone you dislike.”

“He’s part of my squadron,” Coda said.

“Your squadron?”

Was that a smile at the edges of the commander’s lips? “Don’t make me laugh, sir.”

“My apologies.” There was something else in the commander’s expression, something he left unsaid.

“He would have done the same thing for me, sir.”

“Would he?” Commander Coleman raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps. I pray we never have to find out. In either case, you have my thanks. You prevented a terrible accident from claiming even more lives.”

“Even more lives, sir?”

Commander Coleman’s gentle demeanor vanished, replaced by the hard expression Coda was more accustomed to. “Sooner or later, death comes to all pilots, Coda.”

“Who was it?”

“Don’t worry about that right now,” Commander Coleman said. “Right now, you need to—”

“Who was it, sir?”

Commander Coleman exhaled. He had to know that if Coda didn’t get the information out of him now, he would get it from his next visitor. At least this way, he could control the message. “Whiskey.”

“Whiskey…” Coda repeated, ashamed of the sudden wave of relief flooding through him. It hadn’t been Squawks or Noodle. Hadn’t been Tex. Coda closed his eyes, trying to reconcile the guilt.

Commander Coleman must have misunderstood the gesture, because he rested a hand on Coda’s shoulder. “Do this long enough, Coda, and you will know more. Whether we’re dealing it out or falling victim to it, death will always surround us. Get some rest.” The commander patted him on the shoulder before making back toward the door.

“Sir?”

Commander Coleman stopped and turned.

“When will I fly again?”

“I don’t know, Coda. All flights have been grounded until the investigation has been completed.”

Coda felt his blood go cold. “Investigation, sir?”

“Yes. A review board is being assembled to investigate the death of Lieutenant Jones. It’s standard procedure following a mishap of this nature.”

“Who’s being investigated, sir?” Coda asked, already knowing the answer.

“Coda—”

“No, sir, I need to know what to expect.”

Commander Coleman sighed. “You and Lieutenant Krylov are under investigation for exhibiting a trend of unsafe behavior that culminated in the death of one of your squad mates. After a review of the facts by the officer board, you, Lieutenant Krylov, or both may be expelled from the squadron and never allowed in the cockpit of a Nighthawk again.”

Coda watched as Commander Coleman turned to go. This can’t be happening! It’s a nightmare… an absolute nightmare. No matter how hard I try, I’m no better than my father.

Struggling to cope with the array of conflicting emotions, Coda replayed the training scenario again and again in his mind. When he could do that no more, he requested his personal tablet back then watched the training scenario itself, deconstructing the flight from every