“Take a good look, ladies,” Squawks said loudly as he jogged past a group of female officers. “Heroes of the fleet, coming through. Heroes of the—”
“Can it, Squawks!” Uno shouted.
“I just want—”
“I said, ‘Can it!’”
“Geez!” Squawks threw him an irritated look. “What crawled up your ass?”
“We have our orders. Follow them.”
“It’s not like they won’t know soon enough, anyway,” Squawks said.
“There’s a huge difference between ‘will know’ and ‘already knows,’ so can it.”
“What’s the big—”
“Squawks!” several pilots shouted at once.
“Your mouth is talking,” Coda said. “See to it.”
Squawks snapped his mouth shut and defiantly blew a kiss in the officers’ direction but remained quiet until they arrived at their destination. The classroom was like every other classroom Coda had ever been in, though like throughout the rest of the ship, the tables and chairs were bolted to the floor. And like the ready room, instead of the three-dimensional displays, the room was equipped with an aging digital touch board that took up the entire front wall.
“Take your seats,” the escorting officer said. “Your instructor will be along shortly.”
Coda found a seat with Uno, Noodle, and Squawks four rows from the front. Once they sat down, another group of pilots entered, Moscow at their lead. Seeing Coda, he smiled then nodded to his group. They found seats in front of Coda, but instead of sitting down, Moscow took a seat on the table, tossing a foot on the chair so that he was facing Coda.
“Funny thing, O’Neil,” Moscow said in an amused voice. “I didn’t see your name above the failure line. I guess you’re just as much of a shit pilot as your father was.”
The room fell into a hushed silence.
Coda opened his mouth to speak, but Squawks beat him to it.
“And your death probability was twenty-four percent. How about you do us all a favor and raise that up a bit, huh?”
Laughter filled the room.
“He keeps talking, and it will,” Uno said. “Even if I have to shoot him myself.”
“What was that?” Moscow said, his cool voice at odds with his coloring face. “Oh, hold up.” Moscow suddenly clutched his stomach and mock vomited in Uno’s face. “The only thing you can hit is your own boots.”
Coda was on his feet before he knew it, lunging at Moscow.
Squawks was on him immediately, grabbing ahold of him and pulling him back. “Simmer down, Coda. Simmer down. He’s all talk.”
If Moscow was all talk, Uno wasn’t. He was on top of the table and diving at Moscow in an instant. The other man’s eyes widened as the human projectile crashed into him, sending them both toppling off the table. They hit the deck with a loud thud and had just enough time to get in a few wild punches before the other pilots separated them.
Squawks let Coda go, and together, they pushed through the throng, making for Uno, then got between him and Moscow, who continued to shout obscenities at one another.
“Officer on deck!”
Years of military training took over, and Coda snapped to attention. Their instructor waited in the doorway, a tablet in her hands, watching the melee with a single raised eyebrow. She couldn’t have been much over thirty and was short with closely cropped black hair that was only slightly darker than her skin.
“Someone tell me what the hell’s going on in my classroom,” she said in a thickly accented voice.
“Just getting in a quick workout, sir,” Squawks said. “We’re ready to learn.”
“Good. Find your seats then.”
Coda navigated Uno back to his spot then took a seat. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Wasn’t doing it for you,” Uno muttered under his breath.
“My name is Lieutenant Commander Naidoo, though you may call me Dr. Naidoo. And I am no more a teacher than you are an astrophysicist, but we will make do. I am here because among all of you, I am the only one who has ever seen a Baranyk in person—a mistake we’re about to fix together.” Dr. Naidoo turned to the door and nodded. “Bring it in.”
A pair of men wearing white lab coats wheeled in a gurney, its contents hidden under a thin sheet. They stopped it in front of Dr. Naidoo then turned and left. She thanked the men then, in a single quick motion, ripped the sheet away.
Half the class was on their feet in an instant. Many backed away, while others sat in frozen silence, hands over mouths. Lying on the gurney was a supine mass, flat black in color, with four legs, two arms, large lifeless black eyes, and a pair of thin antennae rising from a triangular head.
“I am not here to give you a shot or check your prostate. I am not that kind of doctor. I am a xenobiologist, and aboard this ship, that means I am the foremost expert of Baranyk biology. An area, if I’m not mistaken, your training has largely ignored. Now, please, return to your seats so we can begin.”
Only half of the pilots returned to their seats, though the other half, primarily those nearest the prone Baranyk, refused to move.
“Oh, please,” Dr. Naidoo said sarcastically, slapping the Baranyk on its oval-shaped abdomen. “It’s not going to bite.”
With the doctor making fun of the frightened pilots, the rest slowly made their way back, though if Coda wasn’t mistaken, many of the front seats that had been occupied before were now vacant.
“Good,” Dr. Naidoo said. “Now will someone tell me what you know about the Baranyk so we can begin?”
Uno raised his hand.
“Yes,” Dr. Naidoo said, calling on him.
“The Baranyk—or the ‘Astral Montodea,’ as they’re known officially—most closely resemble the praying mantis of Earth, though, of course, it’s much larger and more deadly than anything back at home. Standing above two meters, it has four hind legs, with two forelegs that are bent and equipped with spikes used to snare prey and pin it in
