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

Someone grabbed him under his arms, yanking him to his feet. It was Moscow. He yelled victoriously, hugged Coda tightly, then gave him a vicious shove.

“We did it!” he shouted. “We sent them back to their hole!”

Coda grinned, excited and proud. But something was off. He wasn’t as excited as he had expected to be.

Moscow saw it, his own smile faltering. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah.” Coda didn’t know how else to respond. He didn’t know what was wrong. Didn’t know how he felt.

“Bullshit,” Moscow said. “I know you well enough to know to know something’s up.”

“I don’t know how to describe it,” Coda said. “I just feel… relieved. It’s stupid, I know.”

“Your idea just saved a lot of lives, Coda.”

“It was your idea, not mine.”

“No.” Moscow shook his head. “I only knew something needed to be done. Not what. That was you.”

Coda wasn’t buying it. Moscow was just trying to cheer him up. “And I wouldn’t have thought of it without you.”

“Fine,” Moscow said. “We came up with it together.”

The door to the Drone Operation Center slid open, interrupting their argument. The remains of the Forgotten streamed in, their cheers adding to the rest, making the celebration damn near deafening. Squawks and Noodle saw Coda and broke into a sprint that covered the distance between them in a blink.

Squawks crashed into Coda, nearly sending them both to the deck. “You crazy son of a bitch! You’ve got some balls on you, you know that? Barging into the commander’s communications like that. What the hell got into you?”

Coda laughed and pushed Squawks off him. “I channeled my inner Squawks, that’s all.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that I had something to say, and I wanted everyone to hear it.”

Squawks thought about the words for a moment. “So if I’m hearing you right,” he said slowly, “you’re saying that without me, you never would have told the commander your plan.”

“I guess so,” Coda said.

“Then I’m a hero.” Squawks turned to Noodle, giving him a playful shove. “You hear that, twig? I’m a hero. I’m a goddamned hero!”

“Someone stop him,” Noodle said, failing to hold back a smile. “Please.”

But Coda was too busy laughing. It felt too good to have all of his friends back together again.

Except…

“Where’s Tex?” Coda asked.

Noodle’s smile disappeared, and he looked to Squawks, whose own jubilant attitude faltered.

“What?” Coda already knew the answer but needed confirmation. “What happened?”

“It was hell out there for a while,” Squawks said, his voice haunted. “He… He didn’t make it.”

Coda shook his head, refusing to believe it, refusing to let himself be consumed by his emotions again. Tex was gone. Coda would never laugh at one of his ridiculous sayings again… or be put at ease by his genuine concern. It was almost unthinkable. And Tex wasn’t the only one. The squadron had suffered major losses. How many other pilots would never return home? Would never see their loved ones again? The celebration in the room suddenly felt very wrong.

“He died doing what he loved,” Noodle said. “He wanted to fly a Nighthawk so bad, he joined the program twice. And you know what? His family told him he wouldn’t live to see thirty-six, and he proved them wrong, didn’t he?”

“That, he did.” Coda swallowed the lump in his throat. “That, he did.”

The intense feelings of reflection returned. It was in that moment that he finally understood the true meaning of the name Commander Coleman had chosen for his squadron. Thinking of his friends and follow wingmen, everyone who had joined the program with them, Coda made them a promise.

You won’t be forgotten.

50

Commander Coleman’s Quarters, SAS Jamestown

Arradin System, Toavis

Commander Coleman had his back to Coda as he stepped into the commander’s personal quarters. Even after a decisive victory, it seemed the commander still couldn’t get an office worthy of his station.

“Have a seat, Lieutenant,” Commander Coleman said.

Coda did as instructed, watching as the commander turned to him, holding a pair of glasses. This time they were both filled with a brown liquid. He handed one to Coda then sat down opposite him.

“Thank you, sir,” Coda said.

“Falcon Rare,” Commander Coleman said, nodding at the glass.

That obviously meant something to Commander Coleman, something Coda didn’t understand. He sniffed the alcohol then took a sip. It tasted the same as any other whiskey he’d ever drank, but the commander obviously thought highly of it, so he wasn’t going to argue.

“So how does it feel to be a hero, Coda?”

Coda shifted in his seat. Squawks had taken no issue with calling himself a hero and shouting it for the entire world to hear, but the idea that Coda was one made him uncomfortable. “I’m not sure I’m a hero, sir.”

“That’s how it always works, Coda. You never feel like a hero, just like a villain never feels like a bad guy. But make no mistake, you and Lieutenant Krylov are to be commended.” Commander Coleman took a sip, watching Coda over the rim of his glass. “Your father would be proud.”

Coda stirred again. If being called a hero was enough to make him uncomfortable, then being called a hero in the same sentence as his father was damn near unsettling. But Coda had learned something in the three days since the battle.

“Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“Granted.”

“You once said that my father cast a huge shadow over my life. And you were right. When I was a kid, my father was a decorated war veteran, one of the best fighter pilots in the fleet. Then as I got older, his mistakes overshadowed me. For the longest time, all I’ve thought about was making my own way, earning my own glory, and using that to restore honor to my family name. But you know what I realized? I’ve been lying to myself, sir, and I don’t even know for how long.

“I realized after the accident that I haven’t wanted to bring honor back to my family name for me. I want to do it for him.