Freddik was turning purple as his closed windpipe still refused to let air into his lungs.

Rand, Freddik’s flight mate, ran at Bondo, winding up his fist into a mean hoodlum punch with his thumb pushing up his middle knuckle. Medea shrieked something in a language no one else recognized, and launched her booted foot at Bondo’s knee.

Little Rex whistled loudly at the melee in front of him. Before Norrin could say or do anything, A panel had popped open on his chest plate and a bolt of electricity zapped Rand, dancing over his body and dropping the mid-sized boy to the ground, where he began jerking back and forth like a puppet whose master kept jerking the strings.

Medea fared little better, for though she could have caused serious damage to Bondo’s knee, she found her foot kicked aside. Off balance, she fell to the ground too, looking up at Slak’s smirking face, staring down at her with a twinkle in both his real and cybernetic eyes.

“Can’t stand, can’t fight?” he said to her, smiling as he repeated a common phrase used by their martial arts instructor.

Medea grunted, rolling away and jumped to her feet. She took a fighting stance as she focused on Slak, taking short, measured steps toward him with one hand flattened and the other balled into a fist.

Slak chuckled, his own fists and feet falling instinctively into the rotating readiness of someone very used to the world of streetfighting. “Honey,” he said, trying not to be unnerved by the deadly seriousness of her expression, “you know how many fights I’ve been in where someone tried to do what you’re doing to…”

Medea launched three punches at his face, each hitting in rapid succession.

The first two landed with angry-sounding splat! noises as the hit his jaw and cheekbone.

The third punch made a soft, painful sound as the flesh of her fist hit the metal surrounding Slak’s artificial eye.

Medea yelped in pain, pulling back her bloodied left hand and trying to hit even harder with her right, aiming punches to Slak’s gut and throat.

Slak deflected the second round of blows easily, grabbing her wrist after the third, ineffective punch thrown at his windpipe and staring at Medea for a brief second.

Slak stared at her and smiled again, despite the stinging pain in his jaw. Medea stared back, and then pulled away.

Norrin had gone to Bondo, talking to him in the calming voice he’d once seen a teacher use on a student with anger issues. After a few seconds, Bondo began to lower Freddik, and then let go of him completely, dropping the blond boy to the ground where he crumpled into a gasping heap, clutching at his throat.

“C’mon, guys, let’s go,” Norrin said, tugging at Bondo’s arm. “C’mon, they’re not worth a visit to the Grey Room.”

Bondo looked down at Freddik. His expression wasn’t angry anymore, but seemed saddened somehow. Slak, still smiling, took a few measured steps back while keeping his fists in the air. “Free advice, kiddo,” he said to Medea, “Once your boyfriends here can stand up again? Tell them to say they tripped and fell down a set of stairs. Unless you want the story to go around that Four Flight took you all down, again.”

Medea glowered at Slak. Still holding her fighting stance, she stood between both Rand, who’d finally stopped twitching and was moving groggily on his own to a crawling position, and Freddik, who was gulping air like a landed fish and lying on his back while staring at the ceiling.

Stolen novel; please report.

Bondo, Norrin and even the little black-and-white astromech droid had left through one of the doorways with Slak covering their rear, and it wasn’t until they were out of sight that Medea relaxed, standing normally and wincing as she shook her bloodied hand.

“Medea,” said Freddik, as he slowly raised himself to all fours, and then a stood up, “call their Lieutenant, Hublin. Get him here now. We’ve got to report them while our injuries are still visible.”

“Report them yourself, idiot,” she said, turning away from him and Rand, who had just raised himself to one knee. “I’ve got better things to do than start fights at a funeral.”

“What?” Freddik tried to yell, but cut himself off as the strain on his already hurt throat made him grimace in pain.

“I backed you two idiots up because you’re my flight senior, Freddik, and he,” she pointed to Rand, who had finally gotten himself into a siting position, “was your second. But don’t expect me to be your girl when you make a truly foolish move like that ever again. I’ve made one visit to the Grey Room, and I don’t want to do it again.”

“But,” Freddik began. But it was too late- Medea had already walked away. Rand followed.

“No one,” Freddik grunted, struggling to his feet, “No…no one walks out on me!” he yelled to the empty hangar. “Do you hear me?”

No one answered. There was no one to hear him, save two droids that were silently picking up the chairs. The coffins had been moved away long ago- the hangar was once again being prepped by other droids for sports in a few hours.

“Do you hear me?” Freddik’s voice boomed in the emptiness.

#

“You okay, Bondo?” Norrin asked as they made their way back to the barracks. Slak was still looking around warily, and Rex the droid wheeled along silently, bringing up the rear.

“I’m okay,” Bondo said. “Something about Freddik, and Porkins dying- I just got really, really angry.”

“They do that here,” Slak said. “I figured that out a long time ago. They set the flights competing against each other. We’re so busy fighting each other for scraps of fun or rest we snap easily, and we’re less likely to ask why, or if the decisions of the higher-ups are good ideas or not.”

“Does that matter?” Bondo asked.

“It does to me. Of course, so long as I get my three meals a day and a decent bed at night, and I know who my friends and enemies are, I’m alright with it. You?”

Bondo looked back through one of the windows. “I don’t so much wish I was back on the Crasna with my family. I just wish…I wish I could be happy being just there, forever. You know?”

“Makes sense to me,” Norrin said. “I used to wish all the time I could be interested in the same things the other kids were. But I’m not, and that’s one reason I’m out here, flying starships, and they’re back there tapping out their latest school assignments on measly little third-rate datapads. Plus, I’ve got better friends here than I ever did in school.”

Their wrist pads started going off. “What, again?” Slak asked. “We just got back from a mission. And they're calling us in again? Already?”

“No rest for the weary,” Bondo said. “Or for the wicked.”

Norrin chuckled “I haven’t heard that one in a while- hey, you’ve stopped your stuttering…thing! Isn’t that neat? When did that happen?”

“I think when we were flying. I just knew I had to get it together, or others might die. It helped push me over. Now it’s not a problem.”

“Good to hear,” Slak said, picking up the pace and walking past them while reading his pad, “but we’ve got just five minutes to make the meeting room. Dang! We’re the only cadets on this mission! Well, let’s see….us, Dav, Jada, Telar, Gund…along with some real pilots! Guys who’ve been doing this for a while! We’ve been requested specifically by someone named…oh, my…you guys ever heard of someone named Darth Vader?”

“Nope,” Norrin said, “but if he’s got the word ‘Darth’ in front of his name, we’d better not mess this up. They’ve got a reputation for choking the life out of folks who fail them.”

“Choking?” Slak said...

#

TO BE CONTINUED....