SL Huang - Up and Coming - Stories by the 2016 Campbell-Eligible Authors

Losing Walt hurt. It showed Gavin just how much he had relied on his brother to keep the rest of the team sharp. The team’s performance was obviously important, but even that paled when compared to the painful fact that Walt had actually abandoned him.

No one forgot their grudge match with the trio of mismatched marauders, and Rhedd Alert was ready when they met again. The Hornets hit them as they passed through the Teclis Band. Teclis was one of Min’s few attractive qualities. From a distance, the band appeared to be a rippling wave of slowly pulsing lights. Closer, the wave resolved into a wall of tumbling asteroids.

Veteran members of Gavin’s team were quite accustomed to clinging to the underside of an asteroid. It wasn’t that long ago that they’d used the tactic to ambush transports themselves. So they weren’t surprised to see attackers materialize from within the Teclis Band.

Gavin triggered his mic to address the squad. “All right, guys, we know these bastards fly like they’re joined at the hip. I think we have the advantage in the band, but we can’t let them pin the Cassiopeia inside. Boomer, you’re babysitting. Get that transport through and clear. Everyone else, with me.”

The fighting inside Teclis was fierce. Gavin was in his element darting through tight seams, anticipating erratic rolling movements and using terrain to force the Hornets to break their punishing formations. His newer pilots were good, but they hadn’t spent hundreds of cockpit hours in crowded space like he and Jazza had. Still, they managed to keep the Hornets hemmed in while Boomer and the Cassiopeia moved through the tumbling asteroids. Uncharacteristically, one pirate broke from the group and powered through the belt toward the fleeing transport.

“We’ve got a runner,” Jazza warned.

Gavin was already moving to pursue. “I see it. Hold the other two here. They’re easier to manage when they’re not grouped up.”

He darted around blind corners of tumbling stone and managed to gain a few clicks on the faster ship. The Hornet rolled right and strafed around a jagged, monolithic spike of rock. Gavin thrust over it, gaining a little more ground.

The two ships shot from the treacherous confines of the Teclis Band, and Gavin landed a couple hits before the Hornet rolled away. Then it was an all-out race for the fleeing transport.

“ Cassiopeia,” Gavin called, “this is Red One, we have a hostile inbound to you.”

“Copy, Red One. Shields are up and we are ready for contact.”

“Boomer?”

“Got it, Gavin.”

“Careful, old man. This one can really fly.”

Gavin saw Boomer’s Avenger rise and turn to face the charging ship. The Hornet rolled again. Boomer matched the oncoming ship, move for move. Both began firing, and their shields lit up like incandescent bulbs. The Hornet yawed starboard and Gavin missed with an out-of-range shot. Boomer’s shield flickered and then fell.

“Boomer!”

Then a blinding shot from a neutron gun tore through Boomer’s Avenger. Bits of hull flew off at odd angles as the Hornet sped past the wrecked ship and continued to close on the Cassiopeia.

The Avenger’s cockpit detonated. Gavin pulled up to avoid hitting Boomer and prayed that the older pilot had managed to eject. The Cassiopeia loosed a barrage of missiles, but the Hornet had countermeasures.

The marauder’s first pass took out the missile launcher. Gavin met the Hornet head-to-head as it swept around and fired on the transport again. He struck clean hits as they passed, scarring the mismatched armor plating along one side. He turned hard and his ship shook with strain, pressing him forward in his harness, vision dimming at the edges.

He righted the Cutlass in time to see the fleeing Hornet pause, hesitating over a small drifting shape. Gavin’s targeting system identified the object. Boomer’s PRB flashed red.

“No!” He had one hand pressed against the canopy. With successive blasts from the neutron gun, the pirate deliberately tore apart Boomer’s drifting body. Then the Hornet pulled up and raced back toward the Teclis Band.

“My target just disengaged.”

“They’re running.”

Gavin barely registered the shouts and cheers from his team.

Overkill.

Pilots call it getting OK’d. He didn’t know for certain where the term was first coined, but OKing a pilot adrift was breaking one of the few unspoken and universal rules of engagement. Lose a fight, and you might lose your ship. Get beat badly, and you might come out of rehab missing a limb or with some sort of permanent scarring or nerve damage. But to fire on a pilot adrift with only the pressurized skin of a survival suit for protection? It was inhuman.

“Everyone,” worry wrenched Gavin’s gut and he couldn’t keep it from his voice, “form up on the Cassiopeia . We have a pilot down.”

Something in his voice quieted the line. His ships emerged from the Teclis Band and rallied to the transport.

Gods.

What was he going to say to Dell? Gavin swallowed hard, blinking fast and trying to think. He should do something. The transport had been hit. He might have other injured pilots. Maybe Walt had been right.

“Hold position until we recover Boomer.” He switched channels to address the transport. “ Cassiopeia, this is Red One. We’re scrubbing the mission. Prepare for return to Nexus.”

“Ah…Red One, damage is minimal and under control. We are able to proceed.”

Gavin couldn’t. He had to get Boomer back to Vista Landing.

Jazza’s voice shook. “Gods. They OK’d him, didn’t they?”

He didn’t answer.

“Take him home, Gav. We’ll tag his ship and tow it on the return trip.”

He nodded, knowing she couldn’t see, but not trusting himself to speak. What was he going to tell Dell?

“Get him there fast,” Jazza said.

“I will.”

Gavin’s mobiGlas buzzed and he activated it. Anyone he actually cared to speak with knew to find him in the office if they needed to talk. Dell was in the med center. She’d made it abundantly clear that she did not want to see him. Jazza had returned with the team after the mission, but they were giving the family a wide berth. Anything getting past his message filters was probably important. And anything important was most likely bad news.

The incoming message was from Barry. Suspicion of bad news, confirmed. He connected the call.

“Gavin. Buddy. Listen, I’ve got some news. This is just a ’heads up’ call, okay? Not a big deal. Is your brother there with you?”

“Walt left,” even to his own ears, Gavin’s voice sounded flat. “You can give your message to me.”

“I got word from a buddy of mine in Contracting. They’re issuing an FTP on the Tyrol contract. It’ll probably go out in the next day or two. Sorry, Gavin.”

“Don’t be,” Gavin wasn’t angry with Barry. He really wasn’t. But his words were coming out sharper than he meant them to. “Just tell me what the hell an FTP is.”

“Sorry. FTP is a Failure To Perform notification.”

He knew it had to be bad. Barry wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t. Damn it! What was next? Vanduul attacks? He’d gone over and over every report from Brock’s files. Never—not in any file—was there evidence of such coordinated and vicious attacks.

Barry read his silence correctly. “Hey, these things get issued all the time, man. I’m just letting you know that it’s coming so you don’t freak out. A couple holes in a transport is nothing when you’re going through a lawless system like Min. They won’t pull your contract for that.”

“What will they pull it for?”

“Well,” Barry drew out the word, speaking slowly and choosing his words carefully. “You’d have to receive back-to-back FTPs. Or if you lost the transport or something, that’d obviously do it. But Major Greely is pulling for you guys. He’s big on the UEE’s plan to enfranchise local civilian contractors.”