Читать книгу Satan’s Tail - Dale Brown - Страница 10

Lieutenant Kirk ‘Starship’ Andrews got out of the car he had rented in Los Angeles and walked across the gravel parking lot toward the church. He could hear the strains of an organ as he approached; he was late for his friend’s memorial service.

He was thankful, actually. He felt he owed it to Kick to be here, but didn’t particularly want to talk to anyone, Kick’s parents especially. He just didn’t know what to say.

The music stopped just as Starship came in through the back door. He moved quickly toward the last pew in the small church, eyes cast toward the floor. The minister began reading from the Second Book of Chronicles, a selection from the Old Testament of the Bible concerning the bond between Solomon and God: ‘“Give me now wisdom and knowledge, that I may go out and come in before this people.”’

The passage spoke of wisdom and riches; the minister used it as a starting point as he asked God for the wisdom needed to accept a young man’s death. The reverend spoke frankly of the difficulty of comprehending the loss. ‘Lieutenant James Colby was a hero,’ he said. ‘But that does not make his loss any easier for us to take.’

Was Kick a hero? wondered Starship. He was a decent pilot and a hard worker; he’d been brave and seen combat. But was he a hero?

Kick had died in the line of duty, caught in a Megafortress when it crashed during an aborted takeoff in Malaysia after guerrillas had seized the kingdom of Brunei. Starship had been on the aircraft himself, strapped in next to Kick on the control deck for the Flighthawks. The fact that he was here and Kick wasn’t, he thought, was just a matter of dumb, stupid luck. Bad luck.

If he had died, would he be a hero?

Starship listened as the service continued with different friends recounting their memories of Kick. He’d gotten his nickname not from the high school football team – which was the story Kick had told – but from peewee soccer. It came during his first game as a six-year-old, when he scored a goal. The nickname had stuck from there, becoming widespread in high school, where he’d switched to football and set a county scoring record booting extra points and field goals.

Starship’s mind drifted as the service continued. If the luck had run differently – if he had been the one who got the freak piece of shrapnel, and the sudden shock that combined to do Kick in – what would people be saying about him?

Smart kid – number three in his high school class and in the top five percent at the Academy.

Should have chosen a few more gut classes and got top honors.

Won an assignment to Dreamland on the cutting edge of aviation.

A mistake. He was flying robot aircraft, glorified UAVs. The computer did most of the work. It was like sitting at a desk all day.

‘I’ll bet you’re Starship.’

Starship turned and saw that a woman had come into his pew from the side. Maybe five-two, with dark hair and green eyes, she looked a lot like Kick.

‘Alice,’ she whispered. ‘Kick’s sister.’

‘Hi.’ He stuck his hand out.

‘We’re glad you could come.’

‘Yeah, um, I’m sorry.’

‘I know.’ Distress flickered across her face, but then cleared. ‘We’re having – my parents are inviting people over later. You should stop by.’

‘I kinda gotta get back,’ Starship lied.

‘Well, OK. But say hello to them on the way out.’ She smiled – this time with visible effort – and then slipped out of the pew. Starship watched as she slid into another pew farther up. Somehow this made him feel better, as if he hadn’t been singled out, and when Kick’s parents asked him at the end of the service if he would stop by ‘just for coffee,’ he agreed and got directions.