Call of Courage: 7 Novels of the Galactic Frontier

by C. Gockel

  Nova did not reply. She brought the plane around and headed for the coordinates of the bunker. There was one more gun out here somewhere but she hoped that everyone was too busy thinking about what had just happened to look up at the silent Kite over their heads. She unloaded her entire arsenal at the bunker entrance and watched the side of the cliff collapse onto the tunnels below before breaking away to rejoin their squadron.

  It was only when they had cleared the badlands and saw the plains before them that she noticed her hands shaking on the control panel. “I might puke,” she said.

  “Whiteside,” Tonda grunted through clenched teeth. “If my bits are still where I last saw them, will you have my babies?”

  She laughed, aware of the note of hysteria that accompanied it but needing to laugh anyway, whooping with glee to burn off the overwhelming adrenaline that still surged through her body. Gradually, her heart rate returned to normal, at least according to the Kite’s sensors, and she was able to breathe evenly again.

  They soon reached the devastated rebel compound where the battle had ended not long ago. She circled for a moment to look over a field strewn with building and machine parts, Rhuwac bodies and, sadly, a large scorch mark where another of the expensive Kites had met its end. Nothing moved down there although her sensors showed life forms not far from the perimeter. Escaped rebels, perhaps, or just Bellac scavengers. “I think I’m in trouble,” she said.

  “Damn right you are,” a harsh voice cut across the com link. “Get your ass back to the base.”

  An hour or two later Nova did just that. She had stopped only briefly atop one of the mesas scattered over the plains to patch Tonda up as best as she could with the basic kit available to them. The rest of her squad had slowed to let her catch up and no one spoke until they reached the installation.

  Rim Station served as a temporary sentinel at the edge of the great equatorial plains of Bellac Tau, far removed from anything even remotely civilized. It dispatched airborne patrols to rout rebel hideouts along the edges of the barren expanse of scrubland, and two units of ground combat troops provided security for the handful of towns nestled in the surrounding hills. Most of those stationed here assumed that the word ‘temporary’ had been tagged on to excuse its neglected state of windblown shabbiness. That there was no end to the need to control rebel incursions was made clear every day.

  A trolley dispatched by the base clinic was waiting when she touched down and she loitered while Tonda was loaded into it, hoping to avoid her squadron leader for a few more minutes.

  Tonda reached out to tug on her sleeve. “Whiteside, if you get field boarded I’ll come visit you in lockup. I’ll bring candy.”

  “Just glad you’re still with us, Tonda. Get gooder soon.”

  “Are you injured, Lieutenant?” a medic asked her. He patted her face with a cloth that smelled of disinfectant.

  “No, it’s all his,” she said and allowed him to wipe the streaks of blood from her face and hands. Her flight suit, too, was smeared with it but there was nothing to be done about that now. Quickly, she shook her hair out and retied the unruly red strands without the benefit of a mirror.

  Once Tonda was carted away she nodded to the mechanics to go ahead and tow her Kite to the hangars where someone would have to remove a whole lot of blood from the rear compartment. When it moved out of the way she saw Captain Dakad waiting for her. For a giddy moment she imagined that it was the glower on his face, not the heat of the day, that made the air shimmer between them. He disappeared into the outbuilding that served them as a ready room at the edge of the airfield.

  The debrief had already begun when she arrived there. Dakad paused for an instant before returning his attention to the display screens. She walked to the back, briefly tapping the raised hand of one of the other pilots as she passed. She was a little surprised when the man beside him, Lieutenant Heiko Boker, moved over to make room for her. As the only female pilot on this remote outpost, acceptance among them had been a struggle since arriving here weeks ago.

  “You got the stones, Whiteside,” he whispered without looking at her.

  She hid a smile when she dropped into the seat beside him.

  The debrief moved on with detailed accounts of numbers and casualties, speculations about the unusual weapon in rebel hands, maneuvers carried out and targets missed. Their planes’ video and sound recordings were studied in detail. She winced when she heard that Lieutenant Avlin, a friendly and well-liked wing mate, was the one whose plane was downed by the surprising defense staged by the Shri-Lan rebels. At length, Dakad’s eyes found her in the back of the room.

  “Perhaps Lieutenant Whiteside will offer some insights into her decision-making abilities today.”

  Nova stood up to face their squadron leader, a rangy Centauri whose long and undistinguished career had shifted him from one front line tour to the next. “Sir, there was time to retrieve Lieutenant Tonda. So I did.”

  “Were those your orders?”

  “Not precisely, sir.” She squared her shoulders. “You ordered mitigation. I mitigated. It worked.” Boker, beside her, exhaled audibly and sunk lower in his seat.

  “So it did,” Dakad said. His violet eyes moved over the other pilots. “By risking another pilot and another plane in deciding to land a Kite on unknown terrain in rebel-held territory for which you knew we had faulty intel. Is that your idea of mitigation?”

  “As I said, there was enough time before the skimmers reached the site. My intent, until I saw the damage, was to switch planes with Lieutenant Tonda.”

  “Really,” the captain said. “And why is that? Because you’re so much better a pilot than he is?”

  She frowned. All of them knew that she was the better pilot. “Well, yes. Sir.” She recognized a dangerous twitch in his eye but continued. “And he was injured, sir. It seemed a good idea at the time.”

  “A good idea is for you to stick to SOP.”

  “Yessir.”

  “Why are we here, Whiteside?”

  “On Bellac, sir?”

  “Are you someplace else?”

  Nova felt herself begin to sweat, wondering what point the captain had to make in front of her squad. “No, sir.” She glanced at the other pilots. “Air Command’s mission on Bellac Tau is to remove the Shri-Lan rebels from the Rim towns and provide security while the elevator to the new orbiter is constructed.”

  “And why do we give a damn about a bunch of cattle herders on the other end of this godforsaken desert?”

  “We need Bellac Tau to join the Union,” she began by rote. “The new jumpsite we just mapped will cut interstellar travel to Magra by half but it’s situated inside Bellac air space. Taking stewardship of the site will let us control rebel activity in this sub-sector. Bellac won’t let us post a manned relay near the gate until the rebel is neutralized on the surface and the skyranch is complete.”

  Dakad nodded. “And what problem do we have here, Whiteside?”

  She suppressed a sigh. “We’re shorthanded, under-equipped, under-supplied and outnumbered by Rhuwacs,” she said, echoing a complaint he voiced at every opportunity but leaving out the expletives that usually accompanied it.

  He raised his arms and addressed the rest of the group. “And so you decide to be a hero and gamble another pilot and another Kite because you think you know how long it takes to extract an injured pilot from a crash site.”

  “Given the option…” she began.

  “Yes, Whiteside? What were the options?”

  She winced. “Mitigation. Destroying the plane on the ground. With Tonda in it.”

  “Which you refused to consider.”

  “You told me to handle it,” she said, irritated now. “So I did.”

  “By risking your life and plane over a rookie pilot. A greenie,” he added, referring to the green uniforms issued at the flight academies. His eyes narrowed. “Because you don’t have the nerve to make that call when it gets down to it.”

  She took a dee
p breath, now only moments from losing her temper. Before she could voice her views on teamwork and duty to one’s squadron she felt a tap on her foot. When she glanced down at Boker she saw him shake his head in a minute gesture. She remained silent.

  “You’re escorting the Yasser transport for the next five days,” Dakad said. “Dismissed. All of you.” He stomped from the shed without looking at any of them again.

  Nova dropped into her seat with a groan and a curse while the other six pilots slowly moved to the exit.

  One of the Centauri, Lieutenant Sulean, turned back. “Thanks for getting him out, Whiteside,” he said. “We’ll go check on him.”

  She nodded and watched them leave. Their Caspian wingman shuffled by and slowed to tap her shoulder, as did Lieutenant Cee. Finally only Boker and the other Human, Rolyn, remained.

  Boker turned to her. “You took that beating well, Whiteside,” he said.

  She closed her eyes for a moment. “What the hell was that about?”

  “The man’s an ass.” He shrugged. “He’s wrong and that’s his way of making sure we get our story straight. He couldn’t hold it together trying to run the scramble in town and manage you out there as well. You called in just after Avlin went down. Easier to just pull the plug on your problem. If you had actually followed procedure we’d be short one Tonda now and it would have been Dakad’s fault for losing his wad.”

  She sat up. “Did he really expect me to give Tonda up just like that? Is that what you do here?”

  He shook his head. “Any pilot worth his plane would have tried to extract Tonda. You did right. You had enough time but Dakad’ll never admit it. But this isn’t Targon or Magra or wherever you came from. Best to just shut up and let it happen. It’s only a six month tour.”

  The pilots gathered up their gear and left the building. A hot breeze pushed dust across the tarmac and the sun glared red over the horizon, about to drop off the plateau on which the base was built. The ground crew, nearing the end of their shift, seemed less energetic now in preparing for the last of the returning squads.

  “Do you think I’ll have to hear more about this?” Nova asked.

  “Nah,” Rolyn said. “He doesn’t want any attention on this or he’d have given you more than babysitting chores as punishment. But watch him take the credit for saving the pilot, if not the plane. By tonight what you did will be what he meant by ‘mitigate’ all along.”

  “And no mention made about the bunker you took out by yourself,” Boker added.

  “That flight better count!”

  “Has to,” Rolyn assured her. “We saw the video. How short are you now?”

  Nova pretended to calculate the numbers she carried engraved in her heart and mind. “If I get proper credit for this sortie, I’ll need sixty more hours to qualify.”

  Boker whistled. “Almost there, then. We’ll have a bona fide Hunter Class pilot in our midst. Don’t get hard to talk to.”

  “Well, that’s just to qualify. I still have to get through the tests.”

  He waved his hands in a dismissive gesture that nearly caught Rolyn across the forehead. “Bah, can’t be harder than pulling a greenie out of a downed plane on the side of a hill. Been a long day, Whiteside. How about you join me and Rolie for a bottle of the rotgut after chow?”

  Nova smiled at the officer. This was the first time someone included her so casually in their downtime since she had arrived here. She felt like something had changed here today, finally. And if it meant taking a dressing down from the captain it had been worth it. But she had long ago decided to keep a careful distance between herself and the male pilots’ after-hours entertainment. Unfortunately, other than a few mechanics and some base staff, there were few women here, none of them pilots, with whom she could share her free time. Something else she had to get used to out here, she supposed. “Thanks, but I think I’ll go hug my pillow. If I have to shuttle to Yassar and back all day I’ll need to stay awake.” She waved and jumped onto a runabout heading to the hangars.

  Chapter Two

  The smile still hadn’t left Nova’s face when the service cart turned toward an outbuildings, leaving her at the main hangar. Cutting through the repair bays would take her straight to the pilots’ dorms before the others beat her to the decon facilities. A quick bite of whatever was to be found in the mess hall followed by a long sleep was the only thing on her mind now. Despite the captain’s tirade, this had been a remarkable day, indeed.

  The main work shift was winding down in the bays, too. No night flights were scheduled and the techs had put their tools away until the morning. Bellac’s swift rotation made for short nights and all species used to longer rests tried to manage as much of that as possible.

  She ducked through a row of planes waiting for their service and then scaled an elevated catwalk. The heavy tread of several pairs of boots on metal stairs made it clear that she was not the only one taking this shortcut. Ahead of her another catwalk met the one she was using and she saw a ground combat squad ambling toward her. The shadowless glare of the overhead lights revealed five Centauri and three Human soldiers, likely just now returning from one of the Rim towns for downtime. One of them grabbed another’s arm as if to shove him over the low railing and into the repair pits below. The others laughed raucously when he pulled the smaller man back just in time, earning a barrage of insults involving his dubious parentage.

  Nova smiled to herself but kept walking, hoping to reach the doors at the far end of the walkway before one of these louts decided to give her a fright, too. But she had most definitely used up her allotment of good luck for the day. The men reached the intersection before she did and there were a few elbow nudges when they discovered her walking toward them. Most of them nodded to her, the two sergeants among them saluted casually, and they kept walking.

  All but three. Nova groaned inwardly when they stopped to wait for her approach. Base grunts, from the looks of them. Shaved heads, sweat-stained shirts and ill-used fatigues. Neckless blocks of muscle designed for close combat of which, judging by the mass of scars covering one of the soldiers’ neck and arm, they had seen plenty.

  “Lieutenant,” the towering Centauri greeted her. The two Humans with him moved into the middle of the catwalk, blocking her way.

  “Evening,” she said with a glance over the railing. There was no one down there now. The other soldiers had neared the doors and did not look back. Nova continued her brisk pace as if the two Humans were not in her way. They had little choice but to step aside or risk colliding with her. As she passed, she felt a large hand on her rump, tightening to squeeze her almost painfully. She whirled around to glare at the man.

  “You got a problem, soldier?”

  He grinned and raised his hands in defense. “No harm intended. Just hard to pass up such a nice ass, is all. Not many of those around here.”

  She scowled at him. “Who’s your CO?”

  The men stared at her for a moment before laughing in unison. “Got a complaint, do you?” the Centauri said. “Complain about this.” He grabbed her upper arm to draw her close but released it again when she pushed away from him.

  “I don’t think she likes you,” his Human companion said.

  “I don’t think I like any of you,” she said. “I don’t suggest you try that again.”

  The easy grin on the Centauri’s face disappeared. “Or what?” He gripped her arm again only to find her pistol jammed under his nose. He froze when he heard the quiet whine of the charge in the sudden silence.

  “Don’t be looking for trouble, girl,” the scarred Lieutenant said after a stunned moment.

  “Back,” she said to the Centauri, who obeyed her command. “I am looking for dinner, not to entertain a bunch of Rhuwac-brained grunts.”

  A door below them screeched on its metal track and a supply cart trundled into the space. Nova took that moment to turn and rush toward the door into the main base, not quite willing to give the men the satisfaction of seeing her run, but
not wasting any time reaching the more populated hallways beyond.

  Finally! Nova thought when, an hour later, she returned to her small room. After a visit to the decon station for a clean-up and a hurried stop for dinner, she was ready to fall into her cot. Her quarters, like those of the other junior officers, offered little in the way of luxury or comfort but luckily, as the only female pilot on this small base, she had no roommate.

  “Yes, yes, time for bed,” she said to a picture of a grush cat someone had sketched for her after hearing that she had never owned a pet. An Air Command military base on one planet or another was all she had ever known and neither the lack of amenities nor pets had ever bothered her. An army brat from birth, the frugal soldier’s accommodations were all the homey comforts she needed.

  She slipped into a robe and took a few moments to comb her thick mane of copper hair, more than ready for sleep.

  A knock on her door forced a tired groan from her lips. “I’m asleep. Go away!”

  “It’s Captain Beryl, Lieutenant. A word, please.”

  She frowned and went to the door to open it for the officer. “Is there an emergency, sir?” she asked, surprised when the man stepped into her room without invitation. He was not her commanding officer and his late-night visit was certainly out of the ordinary. She had seen him on the base many times; his primary function was to oversee the movement of ground troops between the home base and their various combat missions into the Rim towns. Like his men, he was a hulking, scarred tank, distinguishable from them only by his insignia.

  He looked around the room before turning to her. “I hear you met some of my boys today,” he said.

  Her brow furrowed. “Yes, they were definitely behaving like boys. It’s a shame, seeing how two of them were officers.”

  He nodded. “The ones you assaulted.”

  “What?” she gasped. Had she heard that wrong?

  “You drew your gun on one of my men. What were you thinking?”