Sterling Squadron by Eric Nylund Read Free Book Online

terminal—and both raced to the keyboard.
    Ethan got there first.
    The way Paul acted, a total brat, Ethan bet he’d
never
been raised in a neighborhood. Wherever he came from … maybe there were more like him to help the Resistance.
    He closed the map and transferred to a folder marked PERSONNEL .
    The password shield splashed across the computer screen.
    Ethan typed in Dr. Irving’s code word, and it vanished.
    There were hundreds of files with serial numbers.
    Ethan opened them all.
    Faces and birthdays and test scores spilled across the screen.
    Madison, not content to watch, sat on the seat next to Ethan and scooched him to one side.
    He felt her body heat next to him and inched away, uncomfortable.
    Madison hit the command to sort the files. Her hand brushed over his, sending chills up Ethan’s arm. It was strange because the feeling wasn’t totally unwelcome. It was kind of … nice.
    Too weird.
    The files reorganized on-screen, and he snapped his attention back to their task.
    His record popped to the top.
    Place of birth: Santa Blanca.
    Memories of a family, school, homework, soccer games—a normal life—flooded Ethan’s thoughts.
    He pushed them aside. He had to.
    Besides, there had never been a “normal” anything in his life. It’d all been lies.
    His Resister file had a picture of him taken after hegot out of boot camp. Any trace of baby fat that had once rounded his face had been pounded out of him by the physical training. He looked harder and meaner. He still had his dad’s proud Cherokee jaw and his mom’s smooth, golden Filipino skin, but he looked older … and there was something about the face that stared back at him that Ethan didn’t recognize.
    “Tab ahead,” Madison told him. She reached for the key.
    Ethan blocked her. “Wait, I want to read my file.”
    Madison looked like she was about to say something stupid, like this was “confidential,” but then she pulled her hand back and looked away.
    Ethan scanned his test flight scores (impressive), but then found:
Status Report on Pilot Trainee: Blackwood, Ethan Gregor
Submitted to Colonel Winter, B., by Corporal Irving, M.
    Ethan, supercurious to know what Madison thought of him, skimmed ahead.
    Physical Assessment: … Up to our standards. But barely.
    Skill Assessment: … Great instincts in a dogfight.
    Comments (Staff Sergeant Hicks, P.): … Blackwood is a show-off … wants to prove he’s better than anyone born in the Resistance.… He’s going to get himself or his wingmates killed.
    Ethan felt as if he were in a falling elevator—that dizzy, vertigo, out-of-body sensation.
    Those last comments had to be Paul just hating his guts. He turned to Madison to ask what she really thought.
    “It’s true,” Madison whispered before he could even ask. There was no anger in her voice. “You’re a great pilot. Maybe the best I’ve ever seen. But
only
solo. If I put you on a squadron? On my team? I’d spend half my time watching out for whatever crazy stunt you’d pull next—instead of fighting the enemy.”
    Ethan barely heard her as he stared at the assessment on-screen.
    Recommendation: FAIL
    Was
he trying to prove he was as good as anyone else in the Resistance? Taking foolish risks to do it?
    “Don’t look like I just kicked you,” she told him, somehow sounding hurt, too. “Read ahead. There’s more.”
    She hit the NEXT PAGE button. On-screen appeared:
Mitigating Notes (Corporal Irving, M.):
    Four weeks ago we recruited Blackwood into the Resistance.
    He has had to accept: (1) Aliens kept his family and friends prisoners in the perfect neighborhood of Santa Blanca. (2) When kids reach puberty, their brain chemistry changes and they get absorbed into the aliens’ mentally controlled Collective. (3) His parents were part of that uncaring Ch’zar Collective.
    Boot camp was hard on Blackwood, too, especially the hand-to-hand combat classes (one tooth knocked out and replaced). Living in perfect,