Ravyn's Flight by Patti O'Shea

had prompted Alex to move faster. How he’d managed to keep his face impassive as Blowhard had informed him the emergency beacon on Jarved Nine had been activated, he would never know. He’d barely recovered when Bouchard gave him his orders.
    It had been a blessing when the call had come through for the general. It had given Alex a chance to compose himself. He needed the time to grasp that he was leading the rescue team. It had surprised the hell out of him until he realized Bouchard hadn’t gathered even basic information. One cross check of the records between the J Nine team and his personnel file would have shown he had family there. Ravyn was his next of kin. It seemed Blowhard’s only considerations had been rank and availability.
    His patience began to wane as the general’s consultation with his tailor continued. It had already been a half hour of minutiae. The lack of consideration was part and parcel of Blowhard’s personality, but Alex was about ready to go over the desk and end the conversation himself. The idiot didn’t think the problem on J Nine was critical.
    Alex knew different. He could feel it in his gut.
    It took all his training to sit as if he didn’t want to put his fist through the wall. Or into Blowhard’s soft mid-section. He reminded himself the beacon had been triggered four days ago. That it would be another two days before they’d be ready for launch. A half hour cooling his heels in the general’s office wasn’t going to make or break the mission. All the logic in the world didn’t mean a damn thing, though.
    Ravyn was in trouble.
    Alex didn’t need to close his eyes to remember the big-eyed little moppet who had become his stepsister. He’d resented the hell out of her when he’d learned of her existence. She was one more person to take up his father’s time and attention, but he hadn’t been able to hold out against her long. She had looked up at him with adoring eyes, smiled and said, “I love you, Alex.”
    That had been it.
    When his dad had been too busy for him, Ravyn had dogged his heels, begging to be included. When his mother had cancelled visit after visit, Ravyn had been there telling him she was a big dummy. He had ten years on her and she had still tried to keep up with him. And had done a good job of it for such a pipsqueak.
    Alex barely kept the fond smile off his face. It would be as inappropriate for him to grin as it would be to show his disdain for a superior officer. He continued to sit stiffly in the chair and waited for the conversation to wrap up.
    The plush office offended Alex. There were so many things the troops needed far more than the general needed an office better suited to a big business robber baron. The desk alone must have cost more than an enlisted soldier made in a year. The highly polished surface held nothing work related except two short stacks of file folders.
    They fought with the same weapons his father had fought with because the military claimed it didn’t have enough funds to develop new, advanced rifles and other systems. The only saving grace was the other side spent the same pitiful amount to arm their troops. It galled Alex that money could be brazenly wasted on such unnecessary extravagance.
    He bit back a sigh. The fault didn’t lie solely with the military. The government shared a big part of the blame. Career politicians unwilling to shift necessary funding to the Defense Department. Citizens unwilling to sacrifice even one luxury item so resources could be diverted to weapons production. He gave a nearly imperceptible shake of his head and refocused his attention on his surroundings. With the American flag behind the general’s left shoulder and the Western Alliance flag behind his right, even Alex was forced to admit it made a splashy backdrop. He just couldn’t figure out who needed to be impressed that much.
    “Now where were we?” Bouchard asked, finally finished.
    “We were about to discuss personnel for the