Wings of Honor

by Craig Andrews

  “Does that make us even?” Moscow said.

  “Even?” Coda barked a laugh. “For that? Yeah, right! I saved your ass from becoming a new crater on Theseus. You’ve got a long way to go.”

  “You never know ’til you ask.”

  Coda laughed then squeezed off another burst, taking down two more fighters. Moscow’s drone appeared beside Coda’s, and together, they performed a gentle turn, bringing the heart of the battle into view. The remaining Baranyk carriers were flanked on both sides by their human counterparts, taking heavy fire. The various drone squadrons attacked in coordinated wave after coordinated wave.

  “All Jamestown drone pilots, this is Captain Baez. You are to join ranks with the drone squadrons from the Virginia, Oregon, and Edmonton and focus all your efforts on the carrier assaulting the Toavis installation.”

  A sudden, blinding explosion punctuated the captain’s words as another of the Baranyk carriers exploded.

  Three down. How much longer will they hold out?

  “Let’s go,” Coda said. “They’re on the run now.”

  “Right behind you,” Moscow said.

  Coda darted below the battle plane, plotting a course through the Toavis atmosphere toward the Baranyk carrier. He and Moscow flew with hundreds of Hornets, each on its own slightly different course. Having never flown in a proper Hornet squadron before, Coda and Moscow had fallen back to their Nighthawk training, flying as a fighter pair and leaving the formations to their counterparts.

  Atmospheric flight was entirely different from space flight. It was slower, with more drag, and under the constant effect of gravity. In space, the drones could flip and reverse course in less time than it took to say the words, but atmospheric attacks were closer to bombing exercises—something they hadn’t been trained in.

  We’ll have to make do.

  Dropping his speed, Coda brought his drone behind the Jamestown’s Coyote Squadron and prepared for his attack run. The battle had been so thick with Baranyk fighters that he hadn’t needed to use his missiles and had instead relied heavily on his cannons. He flipped the switch on his stick to missiles then targeted multiple points along the Baranyk carrier’s length. Zooming into position, he squeezed, and two missiles launched away in rapid fire.

  Coda spun, watching the missiles streak toward their mark. Accompanying them were hundreds of additional bands of white vapor cutting across the Toavis atmosphere, ending in explosions that tore into the organic Baranyk hull.

  As a single unit, the Hornet drones looped around, preparing for their next run. Baranyk point-defense weapons cut through their ranks but not before more missiles found their target. More explosions tore through the hull. Some, Coda noticed, came from inside the ship. The Baranyk ship suddenly careened, smoke billowing from thousands of impact holes, and began to lose altitude.

  “One more,” Coda said, digging himself deeper into his seat. “One more.”

  And as if they could hear him, the drone squadron leaders brought their fighters around for a final pass. Coda, who only had two missiles remaining, targeted two more points on the Baranyk vessel and squeezed the trigger. His missiles joined ranks with another volley, and a moment later, a terrible explosion lit up the Toavis sky.

  Boom. Coda watched as the Baranyk ship disintegrated, falling to the planet’s surface. It was a beautiful sight.

  “Jamestown pilots, this is Captain Baez. It’s time to come home. The remaining Baranyk carriers are bugging out.”

  Cheers echoed across the line and through the Drone Operation Center. Coda added his to the mix.

  49

  Drone Operation Center, SAS Jamestown

  Arradin System, Toavis

  Coda removed his helmet and placed it on the hook inside the drone operation pod. The Drone Operation Center vibrated with the sounds of pilots cheering. There were screams and hoots, trash talk, and hugging. Victory had never sounded so sweet.

  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 command
er’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. It’s clear to me now. I loved my father, and it’s terrible to say, but I was angrier at him for leaving me than I was for what he did. And as much as I try to act like I don’t, I miss him. Restoring honor to his family name is the single greatest gift I could ever give to him. It’s the only way I can truly undo what he did. It’s the only way he can ever truly rest. So that’s what this has been all about. I didn’t do it for me. I did it for him.”

  Coda took a deep, shuddering breath then a sip from the glass, letting the alcohol burn away the emotion in his throat. The words were finally out. He’d been wrestling with them for a lifetime, trying to comprehend them, accept them, and put them into action.

  “Your father was a good man,” Commander Coleman finally said. “I know I’ve said that, but it’s true. And it’s a shame things turned out as they did.”

  “You were there, weren’t you, sir? Everything about that mission is classified, but… I know it. I can see it in your eyes. You were there. You know what happened.”

  Commander Coleman’s eyes fell from Coda to his glass. He stared into its contents and licked his lips. “I was there.”

  “What happened, sir?” Coda knew that he was breaking a thousand military regulations and putting the commander in an uncomfortable spot on top of it, but he couldn’t hold back. He had to know the truth.

  Commander Coleman looked up from his glass with a sad expression. Whether it was from the memory or what he was about to say, Coda couldn’t tell. “One of these days, Coda, I’ll tell you. But now is not the time.”

  Coda let out a disappointed breath. He hadn’t expected the commander to answer, but he hadn’t been able to keep himself from hoping, either. Fighting every urge to ask again, to press the commander into action, Coda nodded. He could live with getting answers someday in the future, as long as he knew he would get them.

  Commander Coleman took another sip. “I also thought you’d like to know that the results of your review have come back.”

  “The review?” The last three days had been such a whirlwind that he’d completely forgotten about the review. Apparently, their victory at Toavis hadn’t settled that. Coda couldn’t help but feel as though he’d been thrown from one inferno to the next.

  “Cleared of all transgressions.”

  Coda blinked. “Just like that?”

  “Just like that.”

  “I’m not going to lie, sir,” Coda said, letting himself smile. “That’s the best news I’ve heard in a while.”

  Commander Coleman smiled back. “I’m sure it is, Coda. It also means there’s a place within my squadron if you want it. We could use you, Coda. Command is creating an entire fighter group. Ten squadrons. Your former school is being retrofitted to train future Nighthawk pilots until the Baranyk Disrupter can be countered. Even then, I’m not convinced they’ll discontinue the program altogether. The Nighthawks and Hornets made a hell of a one-two punch.”

  Coda studied the commander. There was something in his eyes. Something that told him that, just like when he’d agreed to compete for a spot among the Forgotten, this might be one of the most important decisions of his life. And just as he’d felt back at the academy, he had no way of turning the opportunity down.

  “What about Moscow, sir?”

  “Lieutenant Krylov? What about him?”

  “Will he be a part of your squadron?”

  “Your newfound friendship continues, I take it?” Commander Coleman gave him a sarcastic smirk. “That’s good to know. Lieutenant Krylov accepted his position twenty minutes ago. He will be a member of the Forgotten.”

  Coda smiled again. For the first time since Joseph O’Neil’s treasonous actions, Coda felt as though he belonged. That his life was finally his. The world might not know it yet, but the O’Neil family name once again had honor.

  “Then I accept, sir. It would be an honor to fly with you.”

  If you liked Wings of Honor, please consider leaving a review on Amazon. Aside from purchasing a book or recommending it to other readers, leaving a review is the single most helpful thing you can do for an author and I’d be incredibly grateful.

  If you want to know the moment Wings of Mourning, Book 2 of the Forgotten Fleet is released and get an exclusive fan discount, please sign up for the mailing list!

  Author’s Note

  This book exists for two very specific reasons: because I’ve been dreaming about X-Wings since the first time I saw Star Wars, and because my oldest son is named after the title character in my favorite book of all time, Ender’s Game.

  So when my youngest son was old enough to realize that his brother had a book of his own and he didn’t, I decided that I would write one for him. Dusting off an old idea, I set out to write the awesomest, geekiest book I could write, filling pages with my version of epic X-Wing battles, and writing a character my son could look up to, just as my son Ender can look up to Ender Wiggin.

  I hope you enjoyed reading it, and I hope Callan does too (when he’s old enough), because I had a blast writing it.

  About the Author

  Craig Andrews graduated from Portland State University with a Bachelors of Arts in English. Growing up on a healthy diet of fantasy and science fiction, some of his favorite memories include being traumatized by the TV shows Unsolved Mysteries and The X-Files. He currently lives in a small town outside of Portland, Oregon with his wife and two boys.

  Craig Andrews Mailing List

  craigandrewsauthor@yahoo.com

  http://www.craigandrewsauthor.com

 

 

 
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