“I almost blacked out,” I noted from the doorway. “I didn’t have control of my speed, and didn’t cut the turn before the GravCaps overloaded.”
“It was still quite the maneuver,” he said. “Particularly for a cadet. Remarkable, almost unbelievable.”
“Jerkface is better than I am.”
“Jorgen is an excellent technical pilot, but he doesn’t feel it like you do. You remind me of your father.” He seemed . . . grim as he said it.
I suddenly felt awkward, so I crossed to my simulator and grabbed my canteen. Cobb played out the rest of the battle, and I forced myself to watch as my ship and Bim’s chased the Krell bomber. Cobb froze the simulation again as the four strange guard ships broke off the enemy bomber—the ones who would, momentarily, shoot down Bim.
“What are they?” I asked.
“Something new. They haven’t altered their tactics in over a decade. What changed now?” He narrowed his eyes. “We survive by being able to anticipate the Krell. Anytime you can guess what your enemy is going to do, you have an advantage. No matter how dangerous they are, if you know their next move, you can counter it.”
Huh. That struck me, and I found myself nodding.
Cobb shut down the hologram and hobbled back toward his desk. “Here,” he said, sliding a box off the top and handing it to me. “I forgot to give this to you earlier.”
A personal radio?
“Normally, we only give these to full pilots who get off-duty time down in Igneous. But since you live off base, I figured you should have one. Keep it on you at all times. You’ll get a general warning call when the Krell attack.”
I took the device, which was rectangular and boxy, maybe the size of a small one-handed training weight. My father had carried one of these.
Cobb waved to dismiss me, then settled down in his seat and started looking through his papers.
I lingered though, a question on my mind. “Cobb?”
“Yeah?”
“Why don’t you fly with us? The other flight instructors go up with their cadets.”
I braced myself for anger or reprimand. Cobb just patted his leg. “Old wounds, Spin. Old wounds.” He’d been shot down, soon after the Battle of Alta. His leg had clipped the side of the canopy as he’d ejected.
“You don’t need your leg to fly.”
“Some wounds,” he said softly, “aren’t as obvious as a twisted leg. You found it hard to get into the cockpit today, after watching your friends die? Try doing it after you shoot down one of your own.”
I felt a sudden and striking coldness wash through me, like I’d ejected at high altitude. Was he saying . . .
Was he saying he was the one who had shot down my father?
Cobb looked up at me. “Who else do you think they’d order to bring him down, kid? I was his wingmate. I followed him when he ran.”
“He didn’t run.”
“I was there. He ran, Spensa. He—”
“My father was not a coward!”
I met Cobb’s gaze, and for the second time that day he looked away.
“What really happened up there, Cobb?” I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why do they think they can tell I’ll do the same, just by monitoring my brain? What aren’t you telling me?”
Though I’d never accepted the official story, part of me had always assumed that some kind of mistake had caused my father’s reputation. That in the confusion, people had assumed he’d turned coward when he hadn’t.
But I now had the chance to talk to someone who was there. Someone who . . . who had pulled the trigger . . .
“What happened?” I asked, stepping forward. I’d meant to say it forcefully, Defiantly—but it came out as a whispered plea. “Can you tell me? What you saw?”
“You’ve read the official report,” Cobb said, still not meeting my eyes. “The Krell were coming in a huge wave, carrying a lifebuster. It was a larger force than we’d ever faced before, and their positioning strongly indicated they’d found Alta Base. We fought off one attack, but they regrouped. As they were preparing to come at us again, your father panicked. He screamed that the enemy force was too big, that we were all going to die. He—”
“Who did he say it to? The entire flight?”
Cobb paused. “Yes. All four of us who were left, anyway. Well, he screamed and screamed, then he broke off and began flying away. You have to understand how dangerous that was for us. We were literally fighting for the survival of our species—if other ships started fleeing, it would have been chaos. We couldn’t afford to—”
“You followed him,” I interrupted. “He took off and flew away, and you followed. Then you shot him down?”
“The order came almost immediately from our flightleader. Shoot him down, to make an example and prevent anyone else from fleeing. I was right on his tail, and he wouldn’t respond to our pleas. So I hit my IMP and brought down his shield, then . . . then I shot. I’m a soldier. I obey orders.”
The pain in his voice was so real, so personal, it almost made me feel ashamed for pushing him. For the first time . . . my resolve shook. Could it be true?
“You swear to me?” I asked. “That’s exactly how it happened?”
Cobb finally met my eyes. He held them this time, and didn’t look away—but he also didn’t answer my question. I saw him harden as he set his jaw. And in that moment, I knew that his nonanswer was an answer. He’d given me the official story.
And it was a lie.
“It’s past time for you to be going, cadet,” Cobb said. “If you want a copy of the official record, I can get you one.”
“But it’s a lie. Isn’t it?” I looked to him again, and he gave the faintest, almost imperceptible nod.
My entire world lit up. I should have been angry. I should have been furious at Cobb for pulling the trigger. Instead, I was elated.
My father hadn’t run. My father wasn’t a coward.
“But why?” I asked. “What’s to be gained by pretending one of your pilots fled?”
“Go,” Cobb said, pointing. “That’s an order, cadet.”
“This is why Ironsides doesn’t want me in the DDF,” I realized. “She knows I’ll ask questions. Because . . . Scud, she was your flightleader, wasn’t she? The one who gave the order to shoot my father down? The name was redacted in the reports, but she’s the only one who fits . . .”
I looked back at Cobb, and his face was growing red with anger. Or maybe embarrassment. He’d just given me a secret, an important one, and . . . well, he looked like he was having second thoughts. I wasn’t going to get any more out of him right now.
I grabbed my pack and hurried out. My heart was broken for the friends I’d lost, and now I’d have to deal with the fact that my instructor was also my father’s killer.
But for now . . . well, I felt like a soldier planting her flag at the top of a hard-fought hill. All these years I’d dreamed, and studied, and trusted that my father had actually been a hero.
And I’d been right.
22
“What reason,” Rig asked as we worked together, “could the DDF possibly have to pretend your father was a coward?”