Page 23 of Starfighter’s Salvation

“Thank god it's just practice.”

He appeared in the medbay hatch. “And practice is where you make the error. You will not make it tomorrow.” I hated that he was right. I hated more that his certainty steadied me as much as it did.

“I'll do it again,” I agreed.

On the second run, the Andromedan lived. The third added incoming fire. Corvan changed when he sat at the controls. The tension in him didn’t leave — it found a purpose. His hands moved over the board without hesitation, sure and unhurried, and I forgot to pretend I wasn’t watching them. The big rescue ship lifted, rolled, and dropped into a canyon narrow enough that I stopped breathing.

I loaded the final viable patient with two seconds left. The ramp closed. Corvan took us straight up under enemy fire. My stomach stayed somewhere in the canyon as I strapped myself into one of the evac seats and held on for dear life. When the simulation ended, we discovered half the rescue bay watching through the open hatch. Apparently, I was the new entertainment on base.

“No pressure,” I muttered. Nothing like feeling like a bug under a microscope.

General Aryk stood among the spectators. So did General Jennix, Captain Wroxxon, and several unmated Starfighters including Dekker, who smiled at me with a small salute when he caught me watching for his reaction.

Corvan unbuckled from the pilot’s seat and walked toward me. When he reached my side, he looked down at me for a long moment — long enough that the noise of the bay went distant and I became aware of my own pulse. “Why do you talk to the holograms?”

“People feel better when I talk to them.”

“They are not alive.”

“They will be tomorrow.”

He accepted that with a small nod. I unbuckled and walked toward the ramp. Corvan caught my arm. “The last person who worked in this medbay was Renn.”

The spectators in the bay behind us had wandered off now that we were finished. I had the feeling Corvan had waited for us to be alone to bring this up. The robotic tone of his voice told me all I needed to know about his emotional state. It hurt him to talk about, so I did what I do best when other people are in pain. I listened.

“He did what you do. Talked constantly. Called frightened warriors ridiculous names. Argued with me about every decision I made.”

“He sounds awesome.”

Pain crossed his face quickly, there and gone, but I caught it. I noticed everything about him now. Great.

“He did not come home. I told him the station was falling apart. I ordered him to leave the last survivor. I told him we were running out of time. He refused to listen.”

“I know. It's in your avatar's biography in the game." I'd read his personal history dozens of times, tried to image what it must have felt like growing up an orphan after both his parents died in the war. How he'd made a name for himself with Renn, then lost the closest thing to a brother he'd ever had. His tragic backstory was one of the reasons I'd chosen his avatar in the game. Tortured heroes and all that. Of course, that had been when I'd still believed he was just a fiction of the game developers' imaginations. Suffering was so much more romantic when it wasn't real.

"They list details of all of our personal histories and you humans read it like it's a bedtime story?" If looks could kill…

I chose him for his story. His strength. That and his scowl, and his muscles. And the way he made me feel safe. Protected. I loved every damn thing about him in a very unhealthy, obsessive way. And I was not telling him that. Not after he left me on Earth for four days and Dekker had to come for me.

What would have happened if Dekker, or some other Starfighter, hadn't decided to come after me? Would this man still be making excuses and convincing himself he didn't want me?

Could I afford to be thinking like that right now? I was here. We were about to go out on a dangerous mission. I didn't need to be worrying about things I couldn't change.

Banked rage still radiated off Corvan as he escorted me off the ship. “When I bank the armored side between you and enemy fire, you will not argue. When I tell you the loading window has closed, you will get aboard. Do not make me choose between you and the people already on this ship.”

“I’ll try to listen.”

“That is not good enough. I need to know you will obey me when you are in danger."

If he wasn't so rough around the edges right now, I would have chuckled. I was an Elite Starfighter, just like he was. Same rank. In fact, when it came to medical evac, I outranked him. Once we were on the ground, I was in charge. Flying? All him. “That's all you're getting from me today.” I patted the hull on my way out. “She still needs a name. Flying on a ship with no name is bad luck”

“That's ridiculous and superstitious.”

“I don't care. I'm not going out risking our lives with that kind of bad luck.”

“What would you like to call her?”

I looked back at the ship. A flying trauma bay designed to enter places everyone else had abandoned. “Salvation.”