Chase rushed the throttle. The blinding pressure in her muscles sent rivers of sweat down her cheeks and neck, but she only pushed the jet faster. The drone cloud started to thin as she passed Mach 3 and blasted out over the ocean.
“Shouldn’t all the drones be the same?” Riot said in a tight voice. “Some are faster than others. Some are unevenly weighted. Is that because they’re mass-produced?”
“Stop. Talking,” Chase barked.
Even more drones fell back when she crossed Mach 4.
Four times the speed of sound.
She couldn’t hold the pace much longer, and she knew that as soon as she lost it, they’d be all over Pegasus like a stinging swarm. “I can’t keep this up,” she admitted through her teeth.
And she didn’t have to.
An alarm went off in the cockpit. The missile-lock alarm.
“They’ve gone to active missiles. All of them!” Riot yelled. She heard the controls as he punched them, attempting to map a getaway trajectory, no doubt. “They’re going to shoot us down. I can’t find a clear direction. Watch it!”
Chase jerked out of the way just as a missile screeched underneath them, hitting another drone and exploding it like a red-metal firework.
“You do have a plan, right?” Riot asked tensely. “You said you had a plan.”
“I have an old trick.” Chase took a deep breath and pointed the bird straight up, streaking toward the yellow orb of the sun.
“A trick? Are you serious?”
“We’ve got to get high. Real high.”
Riot started to swear and didn’t stop. The red drones chased them to the thinnest atmosphere, losing speed just like Chase had known they would. She pushed faster for a few seconds, turning back toward the earth with a flick of her wrists. Chase put every piece of herself into the throttle and threw them at the earth so fast that both cadets screamed with the engines.
The rushing speed was brilliant, and a cloud of mist burst behind them, announcing that the sound barrier had exploded. Riot must have been yelling, but she couldn’t hear him anymore. To the right, China’s coastline revealed its impressive naval force. To the left, she could make out the sky full of U.S. jets, waiting for whatever was about to happen.
Behind her, a few hundred drones raced to keep up. And below, the ocean swiftly magnified with stunning detail.
The deep blue.
The chop of waves.
She pulled up, braking at the split second before they smashed into the sea.
The drones were not so skilled.
They shattered against the cobalt surface as though it were a concrete wall.
“Boola-boola!” she called out through gasps. “Boola-fucking-boola!”
41
BRAVO ZULU
Well Done
Chase was breathing so hard that she could barely hear the cheering over the shortwave—the radio piping in from the fighter jets on the horizon. She steered Pegasus toward the demarcation line, leaving a sloshing sea of sinking red metal in her wake.
Chase knew how Tristan felt now, being too tired to respond. Words of affirmation came over the radio that she couldn’t acknowledge. She was determined to make it back on her own power. She turned northeast. Toward the Star that called her home.
Riot was busy making sure no new drones had been launched in their wake, but it seemed that in an attempt to get a Streaker, Ri Xiong Di had gone full throttle.
Gone full throttle, and lost.
“This will change everything,” Riot said. “A whole fleet of drones downed by one Streaker. They can’t not take that seriously.”
Chase’s eyes stung with tears and her mind filled with images of Pippin. Of what he would have said in this moment. “Hobbits against Sauron. Am I right?”
“What the hell does that mean?” Riot asked.
“Indeed.”
Somewhere over Alaska, Chase lapped Phoenix. Tristan took too long to be refueled and was now flying very, very slowly. Chase worried about the way his wings tilted—not in the cocky way she enjoyed. He was losing altitude and speed.
They weren’t done yet.
Chase pulled Pegasus up beneath Phoenix, using her wing to ever so lightly lift his.
“How about a race, Arrow?”
She heard his breath over the radio, cool and growly. “On three,” she said, but he pushed forward before she could count. She threw the throttle forward, catching up easily but holding back so he could keep a lead.
“Don’t.” Tristan’s voice was a whisper. “Go easy. On me. Nyx.”
She’d forgotten he always did his best when he was chasing her. She shot below him, crossing the icy water that led to Banks Island. He kept after her in a way that breezed right into her heart.
They were almost home.
When they reached the apron, Tristan landed in a spin, tilting the whole Streaker onto its side and bending its wing. Chase put down next to him. She was out in a shot, followed by Riot. Phoenix’s cockpit could only open halfway on its side, and Romeo struggled out.
Tristan hadn’t moved.
“Whipped his head bad when we tipped just now. Knocked him out, I think,” Romeo said. He jerked Tristan’s helmet off before she could warn him to be careful. Tristan looked dead. His skin was white and tight, and he’d burst a few blood vessels near his eyes.
A loud pop startled them, and Phoenix began to pump smoke.
No, no, no, Chase thought wildly. She struggled to lift him out of his seat, but she wasn’t strong enough.
“Pippin!” Chase called out. “Help me!”
When she realized what she’d said, she froze in the smacking-cold air. Romeo’s look was blank, and Riot moved forward like he might try to hug her. “Together!” she barked, and all three of them rushed forward. She counted down, and they hauled him free of the cockpit.
His body sprung free in a rush, coming down on top of Chase. Pain erupted all over her back as the air rushed from her lungs. She struggled for a few breaths without letting him go.
Now they had done it.
The emergency teams rushed out of the hangar amid their sirens and colored lights. They would be there within a moment. She gripped Tristan and told herself he was going to be okay, and then she told him the same.
Streaks of green blurred the navy sky. The northern lights danced above like her very own victory parade, and she kept her eyes on them for so long that when the medics pulled Tristan off, they thought she had passed out.
“I’m good.” She waved them away. Riot helped her to her feet while the medics strapped Tristan to a stretcher. One of them listened to his heart, nodded to the others, and said one word.
“Stable.”
Chase’s tears froze to her cheeks in the blustering cold. The medics ran Tristan back to the hangar while Romeo tried to run with him, limping from exhaustion. She thought she saw him grip Tristan’s hand.
She hadn’t noticed Romeo’s loyalty before. Maybe that’s what Pippin had seen in him. After all, Pippin was the best at sensing people’s hidden centers. She only wished that hadn’t been because he’d spent years keeping his own heart a secret. Chase had always wished she knew more about Pippin. And now she knew she’d keep wishing that her whole life.
The bright square of the open hangar door seemed like an embrace waiting. Kale stood in the middle of the light. Chase could have recognized his silhouette from the clouds.
She ran toward him.
42
KICK THE TIRES, LIGHT THE FIRES
Let’s Go
Sunlight leaned into Chase’s room through her small window, bringing with it baby blue skies and hints of green life beneath the melting rivers on Banks Island.
Chase was bent over her political science textbook. She jotted notes and then rubbed her hands through her short hair. Tomorrow, her pol
i-sci teacher wouldn’t be able to ask a question that she didn’t know. That was satisfying in a new and surprising way.
“Kale wants us in the hangar ASAP,” Sylph said from her door.
Chase glanced at the time and swore. She got up, zipping the rest of her flight suit and groaning as her spine popped as fluidly as her knuckles. It had been five months since she had faced off with the red drones, but she sometimes felt like she had aged ninety years in that heartbeat of a day.
“Where’s the girl?” Sylph asked.
“Are we supposed to bring our RIOs? I thought it was just pilots.”
“It is. I want to see if she’s gotten my laundry done.”
“Sylph.”
“What? Starling wants to prove herself. Heaven forbid I stand in the way.”
“Heaven forbid you don’t benefit,” Chase said just as Lin, call sign Starling, entered their room. The tiny yet solid girl balanced a mountainous pile of laundry, bending in ways that only a gymnast’s body could get away with.
“Oh, hi, Sylph!” Lin said. “I’ll have your clothes in your room in a few minutes.”
“Don’t forget to fold,” Sylph said to Starling. “Be in the hangar in five, Nyx.”
Chase shot a look at Sylph that made the tall girl blow a kiss sarcastically. Sylph really was learning how to be human. Maybe it was the intense chaos following the trials or just the fact that Sylph was attempting to be sociable—either way, Chase had to admit she enjoyed the perks of the girl’s transformation. Sometimes it felt like they were becoming friends. Maybe friend-like was more accurate.
Starling watched Sylph go, awe in her expression.
“What’d I say, Starling?” Chase took the clothes and set them on the lower bunk. “Less enthusiasm for Sylph. Always less enthusiasm. That girl’s head is big enough.”
Chase’s new RIO was every bit as daring as Pippin but not nearly as confident. The fact that Lin had been chosen to fill Chase’s team had launched the sophomore as a celebrity at the Star. Lin treated her newfound fame like everything else: overwhelmed and blindingly sweet—until she got into the air and turned hard and sharp as a blade.
Chase watched Lin fold, her dark-skinned hands working fast and rhythmic. “You really shouldn’t be doing that,” Chase said. “Sylph’s just trying to see what she can get away with. It’s hazing.”
“So what do I do?” Starling’s nose scrunched up, and Chase pinched it.
“I’ll tell you what I’d do. I’d throw all her clothes into the trees on the Green.”
“That’s wicked,” Starling said. “You think I could?”
“Just be prepared for retaliation,” Tristan said. He leaned in the open doorway, his arms hanging on the doorjamb in a way that flattered every piece of him. “You ready to head out, Chase?”
“Hi, Arrow!” Starling yelled.
“Seriously, Lin?” Chase rubbed the ringing out of her ear.
Tristan gave Lin a purposefully smoldery look. “Hey there, Starling Darling.”
“All right already.” Chase hooked her arm around Tristan’s, leading him down the hall. “Be back for dinner, I think,” she called to Lin. “Remember, don’t do anything else for Sylph!”
Chase and Tristan walked fast together, shoulder to shoulder. It felt a little like flying. “You always have to tease the breath out of my RIO? You act like Romeo in front of her sometimes.”
“It’s funny. She seems to think we’re movie stars.”
“Don’t encourage her.”
He pressed a kiss on the side of her neck. “She knows I’m taken.”
“You are.”
Chase was somehow still comforted and thrilled that Tristan was dedicated to her, and she to him. Sometimes she worried she’d wake up and they’d be over each other, and every day that didn’t happen, she felt more and more.
“Did you hear the chatter?” he asked, switching to his serious tone, the one Chase had assigned to his more political thoughts. “Ri Xiong Di representatives agreed to a summit meeting. The first one in twenty-two years. Three European countries have agreed to come, including Britain. I bet several more are going to say yes.”
“What will they talk about?”
“The Nuclear Response Act most likely. No one wants to worry about that kind of escalation. They’re also going to insist on lifting the Atlantic trade restrictions.”
“That sounds too good to be true. Ri Xiong Di isn’t going to stand for the U.S. back in a fighting position.”
“They don’t have a choice. Allied strength.” Tristan held her hand a little tighter. “Things are changing.”
“Yeah, but for the better?”
“I don’t know how long they’ll be afraid of the Streakers. Adrien worries they’ll figure out how to make one soon enough, and then…”
Chase squeezed his fingers and let him worry. After all, there was so much left uncertain. For one, her nightmares wouldn’t leave her alone. Too often, she relived the way she had thrown herself down, down, down at the ocean.
And somehow missed.
She ached for Pippin in a soul-twisting kind of way, but she was learning how to air out her hurt when it came, to share it with people like Kale and Tristan. Even Sylph when she needed a more clinical ear. Venting made his loss feel like a real part of her, and she found that that was the only way she could live with it.
They double-timed it across the Green and toward the hangar. Cadets were everywhere, and Chase was still getting used to the other shade of blue uniforms that now spotted the Star, denoting the Canadian cadets.
“Any idea what Kale’s surprise could be?” Tristan asked when they joined Sylph in the glass tunnel between buildings. Outside, the intense blue of the sky promised puffy clouds.
“No clue,” Chase said.
“Morons.” Sylph led the charge. “It’s obvious.”
The trio of Streaker pilots found the brigadier general outside of the hangar doors by one of the helicopters. “Get in,” he ordered. Chase climbed in after Sylph and grabbed hold of Tristan’s flight suit to bring him in behind her.
“Got to love a pushy woman,” he muttered into Chase’s ear as he took his seat beside her.
Sylph cocked a judging look at the way they sat close, hands entwined, but Chase didn’t care. All of it, even the Sylph-mocking, felt kind of great.
The helo took them to the lower half of Banks Island, to a large camouflaged-white hangar. They set down outside and jumped out. Kale used a variety of security codes to open the door, and they ducked out of the chilled wind. When Chase lifted her head, she wasn’t ready.
The hangar was full of Streakers.
Blue silver seemed to wink at her from every angle. “Holy hell.”
“Language, Harcourt,” Kale said.
“How many?” Tristan asked, his eyes huge.
“Sixty. The first batch. Fifty named for the states and ten for Canada’s provinces.” He waved his hand at the one stenciled with the name Texas, beside one bearing the incredibly long title Saskatchewan. “We’re halfway to finding young pilots to start training. This is where you three come in.”
Tristan and Chase exchanged looks.
Kale continued. “I know you won’t graduate for a few semesters, but we need to get these jets in the air immediately. We need you to help with their instruction.”
“Serious?” Chase almost fell over. “You want us to train Streaker pilots?”
“Help train them. You don’t get to mold them into your demerit-riddled image, Harcourt.” Kale squeezed her shoulder.
Tristan wore a cool sort of victory in his expression. “Sixty Streakers.”
“Sixty-three, including your birds.”
“You mean sixty-two, General,” Chase corrected. She had to remind people too often. Dragon was gone.
Kale pointed to the las
t Streaker in the row. “I know it’s been a while, Harcourt, but I think she’d be sore if you didn’t recognize her.”
Chase looked over the seamless silver metal and the sleek wings until she saw a recycled panel of metal on its side bearing a worn name:
DRAGON
“You rebuilt her.” Chase’s words were small.
“Of course we did. Well, I should say Adrien did.”
Chase ran to the jet, touching every beautiful inch. She kissed her and rested her cheek on the dented metal panel.
“You’re making me jealous,” Tristan deadpanned.
Chase kept her eyes on Dragon. “You should be jealous. She was my first love.”
“Well, she does remind me of you,” he said. “Impulsive, fast…with very cute ears.”
Chase checked to see that Kale’s back was turned before she grabbed Tristan’s uniform and brought him in for the kind of kiss that made him hold on to her hips.
“Give me a boost?” she asked.
“Course.” He grabbed her leg and propelled her up and into her seat. She looked around as her hands trailed every dial, button, and control until she found something new. A small brass plaque bearing Pippin’s name. Chase leaned back and closed her eyes. She traced the letters of his call sign and breathed.
• • •
Within a handful of hours, Chase was taxiing out of the secret hangar in Dragon.
Starling directed their takeoff through a strong headwind, chatting without stopping to breathe. She was shockingly good at that. “So then when Sylph saw that I hung her clothes in a tree, she stole all my underthings and put them in the rec room. Right on the pool table! Romeo was wearing a pair of my undies on his head by the time I found them.”
“Turnabout is fair play, Lin,” Chase said, trying to hide her laugh. “But I’d say you’re in the clubhouse now.” Chase pulled the Streaker up through the blue blanket of the heavens. They flew south in a blast, leaving Pegasus in Dragon’s wake.
Chase ducked below the clouds, feeling the strain evaporate as the thrill of flying took over. The sky opened, and the engines revved through her heart—willing and ready.
Breaking Sky Page 28
