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

positive-Z six degrees, one hundred thousand meters and closing. Break in three, two, one. Break!”

Moscow’s eyes slid from Coda’s to the walls of the ready room, no doubt looking for the speakers, then still refusing to look in Coda’s direction, he made his way across the ready room and took a seat on a far chair.

Screams and panicked voices filled the room.

“They’re everywhere!”

“There’s too many of them!”

“I lost sight of Hawk Twelve!”

“He’s on my six! Bear, you see them?”

“Where’s my wingman? Where’s Hawk Four?”

“Hard left! Hard left! Bring it around. I’ve got them.”

“I can’t shake them!”

“Break right and two degrees negative-Z. Now!”

“Mayday! Mayday! Hawk Six is down. I repeat, Hawk Six is down.”

Coda tried to remember who Hawk Six was. Dot? Burn? Baldy? And who were Hawks Twelve and Four? He hadn’t studied the flight roster closely enough to remember. He listened, half hoping to hear one of his friends over the radio. That would mean they were in trouble, but it would also mean they were alive.

“Damn it!”

“Keep it level. That’s it. Two sec—”

“Ahhh!”

“Hawk Fourteen is down.”

Coda flinched with every confirmation of another human death. They were getting cut to shreds out there.

“I’m hit! I’m hit!”

“Jamestown actual,” Commander Coleman bellowed, “where the hell are you?”

“Sixty seconds, Commander.”

“You’re going to have to do better than that.” Commander Coleman’s voice was more concerned than Coda had ever heard it. “We don’t have sixty seconds.”

“Negative, Commander. If we increase thrust any more, we won’t be able to slow down in time.”

“Then jump!”

Silence.

“What are they waiting for?” Moscow asked, speaking for the first time. He was looking in Coda’s direction, his eyes wide.

“Probably seeing if it’s doable,” Coda said.

“Of course it’s doable,” Moscow said. “The Shaw Drive can’t make galactic jumps, but intersolar jumps are… bah, you already know all that.”

“The Jamestown is a defensive ship around a quiet mining colony,” Coda said. “Captain Baez probably hasn’t ever seen real action, let alone made a quantum jump mid battle. And you and I know how difficult those are to plot. One tiny mistake, and they’ll jump into the planet’s core.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Moscow said. “Captain Baez needs to do something. We’re getting destroyed out there.”

Coda couldn’t argue with that. If the battle was even half as bad as it sounded, the squadron couldn’t hold out much longer.

“Commander, Jamestown actual. Jump coordinates sent to your computer. Avoid the area at all costs.”

“Copy that,” Commander Coleman said. “All pilots fall back. The Jamestown is jumping in. Let’s see if we can draw a few of these fighters away from the rest in the meantime.”

“He’s dividing their forces,” Moscow said.

Coda nodded.

“We should be out there,” Moscow added. “Not locked in here.”

They weren’t technically locked in the ready room, but Coda knew what Moscow was getting at. “Yeah, well, we sure did a damn good job of messing that up.”

“Yeah…” Moscow’s voice was tinged with regret. “You think we’ll ever fly again?”

Coda blew out a long breath. “No idea.” He toyed with the idea of telling Moscow of his exchange with Commander Coleman in the corridor but decided it wouldn’t make either of them feel any better. “Thanks for putting in a good word, by the way. You know, during the review.”

The last step in the investigation had been for Coda to review all statements and offer a counter or clarification statement of his own. In doing so, he’d been privy to all statements made about him and had been surprised to see that Moscow had come to his defense, going so far as to say that he believed the squadron was better off, and its pilots safer, with Coda in it.

Moscow shrugged. “It’s true.”

“Well, I still apprecia—”

The world stretched in front of Coda. The Jamestown initiated its jump. Coda held his breath, wondering if it would be his last, then let it out as the world snapped back to normal, the jump completed.

“All pilots,” Commander Coleman’s voice boomed over the radio, “reverse course and engage. Use the Jamestown to your advantage. Smash them like a bug under your foot.”

Coda tried to picture the battle outside, only dimly aware that he and Moscow were now a part of it. The Jamestown would have likely arrived parallel to the Baranyk carrier, with the Oregon flanking it from the other side. The distant rumble of cannon fire vibrated through the floor of the ready room as the Jamestown opened its main batteries. With it, the radio chatter changed pitch again, becoming more encouraging.

“Here we go!”

“Nice shot!”

“Take it! Take it!”

“Bingo!”

The chatter brought a smile to his face. Even tucked away in the relative safety of the Jamestown, Coda felt as though he were playing a role in their success. Those were his wingmen out there. His friends. He rubbed his hands together as if washing them, his eyes drifting back to Moscow.

“For what it’s worth, I feel the same way. You’re a damn good pilot, Moscow. And if I’m allowed back into the squadron, I want you there with me.”

“Thanks, Coda.” It was the first time Coda could remember Moscow calling him by his call sign instead of his last name. “I never said that, you know, after the accident. I never said thank you.”

It was Coda’s turn to shrug, though in truth, he didn’t want the conversation to end. For the first time he thought he and Moscow were really getting somewhere. “You didn’t have to. I didn’t save you for any other reason than because I’d want someone to do it for me. Golden rule and all that crap, you know?”

Moscow grinned. It was a small thing but further proof that the ice was thawing between them. “Either way, I was an ass. You tried to talk to me, tried to be the better man, and well, I didn’t help things.”

“I just wanted to keep flying,” Coda said with a knowing grin.

Ha! Well, I should have followed your example. Instead, I let my emotions get the best of me. If I had, we’d be out there right now. You’re