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

small circle, sitting on various boxes and pieces of equipment as if sitting around a campfire.

Tex held his cup high. “To Whiskey.”

“To Whiskey,” they repeated then took a sip in salute.

Coda winced as the fluid burned its way down his throat. “It’s weird,” he said. “I’ve been so focused on making the squadron, I barely knew her.”

“None of us one did,” Noodle said.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Coda said. “You guys were right when you said I was clueless. Outside of you three and Moscow, I barely know anyone. Hell, I barely know anything about you guys.” He turned to Tex. “Like, I know you were in the Nighthawk program before it was discontinued, but that’s it. I don’t even know where you’re from.”

“His call sign is ‘Tex,’ dumbass,” Squawks said sarcastically. “Where do you think he’s from?”

“I’m from Georgia,” Tex said, throwing an amused look in Squawks’s direction. “But you dumb Yankees can’t tell one southerner from another.”

Everyone laughed.

“Other than that, there’s not much to know.”

“There’s always more to know,” Coda said. “You lived there your whole life?”

“Yeah,” Tex said. “Family’s owned a cotton farm for eight generations. My brother’s running it now.”

“Didn’t want to go into the family business?” Noodle asked.

“No.” Tex shook his head. “When you ain’t ever been more than a hundred miles away from home your whole life, sometimes all you want to do is get as far away as possible. And you can’t get no farther away than space, you know?”

Coda found himself nodding. He knew all too well what it meant to get away, but the one thing he wanted to run away from was the one thing he could never escape. “You been back since you left?”

“Naw,” Tex said. “They wouldn’t want me back, anyway. I didn’t leave on the best terms.”

“Me, neither,” Noodle said. He stared into his cup as if it held the secrets of life. “Parents both went to Stanford. Dad’s in Advanced Robotics. Oversees the plant that builds the processors for the Hornets. Mom’s in Communications. They both expected me to follow in their footsteps, go to the family school and all that. But I grew up around the drones, saw the early models, and watched as they became what they are today. When it came down to it, I didn’t want to build them. I wanted to fly one. So I joined the academy.”

“How’d they take it?” Coda asked, knowing how his own mother had taken his decision to enlist.

“Dad blew a gasket, and Mom…” Noodle winced. “Well, I’ve never seen anyone cry so much.” He took a deep pull. Coda couldn’t tell if Noodle’s glassy eyes were from the drink, the memory, or both. “I get it,” Noodle continued. “I’m their only kid. Their whole life. And I just up and abandoned them.”

“A man needs to find his own way,” Tex said.

Noodle’s eyes found Tex, and he nodded. The two couldn’t have come from more different backgrounds, and yet in that moment, they were the same.

“So why join the Forgotten?” Coda asked. “If flying Hornets was your dream, then why are you here?”

Noodle grinned. “Because as cool as the Hornets were, the Nighthawks are even cooler. Besides, as Squawks likes to say, chicks dig pilots.”

“Damn right,” Squawks said.

Everyone laughed. Coda found that his smile lingered. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d sat around with friends, with nothing to do except enjoy each other’s company. It had probably been his last day at the academy, before his fight with Moscow, before his entire world had been upended. He’d forgotten how good it felt.

Coda's story was well known to everyone, his friends most of all, so it didn’t come as any surprise when their eyes passed over him, falling on Squawks. What did surprise him was how much it stung. His friends might know about his father and how driven Coda was to fix his mistakes, but they knew little about the person he was. Before he’d been Coda, he’d been Callan O’Neil, with his own hopes and dreams, his own hobbies and loves. And some day after his service, he would become that man again. It hurt that his friends didn’t want to know who that person was.

Squawks, it seemed, wasn’t enthused, either. He stared back at Noodle and Tex as if irritated that he was expected to share next. “Are we here to talk or to drink?”

“Both,” Noodle said. “Come on.”

“It’s not a happy story,” Squawks said.

“Has anyone’s been?” Noodle pressed.

“Well…” Squawks paused, winced, and shifted uncomfortably. “While all of you were disappointing your families, I was trying to find out who I was. I grew up in the system. Don’t know who my mom or dad are. They could be drug dealers or Stanford grads—I don’t know. Maybe I’ll never know, but I can guess. You guys wanted to fly? You wanted to wipe the shit off your family name? That’s great. I was just looking for some clothes, three squares, and a place I didn’t need to move out of every six months.”

A heavy silence fell over the group. Coda looked from Squawks to Noodle then to Tex. Nobody said anything.

“I don’t know what to say, Squawks,” Coda said, breaking the silence. “None of us knew.”

“It’s not something I usually talk about.” Squawks looked toward Tex. “Every man needs to find his own way, right? Well, every man has his own secrets too.”

“I wish I was entitled to my own secrets,” Coda said. “I can’t take a dump without it being compared to my father.”

He’d meant it as a joke, but he didn’t get more than a slight chuckle.

“This is going to sound sappy, or maybe this stuff’s stronger than I thought it was,” Noodle said, twirling the remaining alcohol in his cup. “But I think you found more than some clothes, three squares, and a roof, Squawks.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You found us, man.”

“Lucky me,” Squawks grinned. “A hick, a nerd, and a traitor’s son. The three worst friends anyone could ask for.”

“Says a guy