Breaking Sky (10 page)

Her faux nonchalance was heavy and hard to maintain.

And it crashed in a heartbeat.

Beneath the nearest tree, Tristan and Tanner watched Chase as one. Tanner appeared to be mid-swear, his back hunched sourly like a gargoyle. Chase sat up. They were talking about her. Clearly.

Tristan must have just told Tanner about her dad.

Chase wasn't nearly as swift on the ground as she was in the sky, but she knew how to maneuver. She caught Tristan's arm when he bent to tie his boots and hauled him so hard and fast through a door that the cadets he'd been walking with didn't even notice.

Once she was inside, she lost speed. She'd thought the room was a closet. Nope. It was a classroom. A big one. At least it was empty, although that just meant it echoed the slam of the door a little ominously.

“Hello, Chase,” Tristan said, rubbing the arm she'd manhandled him by. “Let me guess, you want to talk to me?”

Her mouth was suddenly dry, but she twisted the front of his uniform in both fists and pressed him to the wall. “What did you tell Tanner?”

“What?”

“I saw you talking to him. You were looking at me. I'm not an idiot. I know what you told him.” Tears spotted her eyes, but Chase only tightened her hold on his shirt.

Tristan looked even more boyish close up. “I didn't tell him anything. He was telling me about you.”

“Wha…why?”

“Because I asked.”

Chase let go but not without a small shove. “Why would you do that?”

“Because you saved my life a week ago, and now you won't make eye contact with me. It's a little strange.”

Chase stared down his blue eyes pointedly, and something tightened in her chest. “Happy now?”

“Not really,” he said. “You look like you're going to clock me.”

“Well, you can't tell anyone…” She dug for the words but only succeeded in feeling the tears again. “What you heard…you can't just tell people…” Oh God, was he going to make her say it?

“I wouldn't.” Tristan straightened his uniform. “I know a life-altering secret when I hear one.”

“Um, all right.” She wrapped her arms around her chest. Could she believe him? “Tell me why you were eavesdropping in the hallway after the JAFA debriefing.”

“I wasn't eavesdropping on purpose. I was waiting for you.” He unhooked his ponytail and finger-combed his hair. Chase thought it looked a lot softer than normal boy hair.

“Why were you waiting?”

“I wanted to talk to you. I didn't know then just how hard that is.” Tristan showed his frustration a little, gritting his teeth when he swore. Chase found it strangely endearing that she'd gotten under his nerves. “I wanted to ask you not to tell anyone about how I kind of…went catatonic in the hallway. Remember?”

“I do.”

He pushed his hands through his hair, and Chase wondered why that was supposed to be sexy. It looked reckless. Like he needed to get a hold on himself and every other part of his body was unsteady.

“Oh. I know why you're worried,” Chase said, blinking hard as if the sun were dawning over the SMART Board and right into her eyes. “You think they'll take your wings. It's an act, isn't it? You want everyone to think you're nice so you don't get put on the Down List. That's why you're befriending everyone.”

“I happen to think I am
nice
, at least under normal circumstances. When I'm not mourning the death of some of my best friends.” Whatever light had come with understanding Tristan went out. He was warning her off, carefully choosing his words. “Maybe it's cliché to claim revenge, but I won't fail before the trials. I want my chance to face down Ri Xiong Di.”

Chase nodded. She could understand vengeance. “I won't say anything, and I'll even help you hide it from Sylph. She's the person who you should be worried about. In exchange, you won't say anything about my—about Tourn. Do we have a deal?”

His eyes narrowed in a way that made her look away. “You think we need to use something against each other?”

“I think it's a smart way to play this. We're opponents.” She paused and made herself look at him again. It was surprisingly hard. “I won't say a word. And I hope you do the same. No matter how much you want to beat me in the trials.”

Chase started to leave, and he walked after her.

“Is that how someone would beat you?” he asked. She swung around, and the teasing smile he aimed her way was a bit of a surprise. “I was just planning to outfly you.”

She twisted the front point of her hair. “I'd like to see you try, Tristan Router.”

Chase paused at the door. Her plan had been to threaten Tristan and leave him too scared of her to tell anyone about Tourn. Now they were what? Flirting?

“We have class,” she mumbled, surprised she was holding the door open for him and even more surprised that she was apparently inviting him to walk with her.

On the way, she began to talk about the Star. She couldn't seem to stop herself. “This class is for pilots in all the grade levels. We watch fighter flight tapes from as far back as World War I. It's cool.”

“How many pilots are there?” Tristan asked. He walked as fast as she did, and she wanted to like him for it. Even Pippin couldn't keep up with her went she hit optimum hallway speed.

“About a hundred. A tenth of the cadet population. The rest are in specialized training. Engineers, navigators, ground crew, what have you. Flyboys are in the minority. We try to stick together.”

When the conversation slipped away, Chase found herself close to a strange edge.

Ordinarily, she liked being around boys because they made her darker thoughts vanish. But she wasn't getting that vibe from Tristan. He reminded her of JAFA—of her father's dismissive words—and yet he was still looking down at her with an easygoing smile. Weird.

They passed through one of the glass tunnels that connected the buildings to the Green. Outside, the snow whirled like the wind was blowing three ways at once. Chase began to patch together a question that ordinarily she wouldn't bring up—to ask Tristan if he worried about the other shoe dropping. About what might happen if Ri Xiong Di turned its foul intentions on the Star. Or her real question. The big one: did he blame her for what happened to JAFA?

But before she could put it all together, she remembered that tormented look she'd gotten out of him in the hallway, and she couldn't.

When they entered the Green, a group of her fellow juniors walked by and said hello to Tristan. Nothing to Chase, although one of them chanted her call sign. It had the effect of insinuating that Tristan was now
with
Chase…of course.

“Aren't you the star of the Star?” She winced at her lameness. “How do you find the energy?”

“I'm not as popular as you,” Tristan said. “Nyx is a big deal. Everyone knows you.”

“Everyone
thinks
they know Nyx,” she corrected, a little stumped as to why she'd take the time to set the record straight.

“They like you a helluva lot better than Sylph.”

“That's not a fair comparison. I'm pretty sure not even Sylph likes Sylph.”

“Maybe not. Although, no one seems to know anything about you. You're a mystery,” he said. “For example, when I asked people what part of the country you're from, I got three different answers.”

“That's because I don't answer that question. They only know what I want them to know.” Chase lost her amusement, remembering Tristan's tandem dark look with Tanner. She could only imagine what Tanner would say. Actually, she could imagine
exactly
what he would say. “I'm the heartbreaker. Is that what you're hearing?”

“I believe Tanner Won used the term
love vampire
.”

“
Jesus
Christ
.”

Tristan smiled, not that genial look he tossed to everyone, but a genuine smirk. She liked it a little too much, and it encouraged her to give him just a little more. “It's a bad habit at this point. I say I want to fool around. The crush in question agrees, but then they want more…”

Chase let him think she meant sex. Most of the time, her hookups
did
want sex, which she didn't mess around with. Pregnancy, STDs—no thanks. Of course with Tanner, sex wasn't what he wanted. “I'm not into more,” she added a little late.

“Tanner said you forgot who he was. Walked right past him like he wasn't there.” Tristan whistled. “That's tough stuff. He seems like a worthy sort of guy.”

“He was different.” Chase started to walk slower, feeling herself defocus. She remembered lying on Tanner's bed and telling him to kiss her, only for him to stare at her with eyes that stirred in warmth. He asked about where she came from. About her family and dreams. It wasn't until she started to want to answer him that she had to cut him off.

Chase had walked past Tanner in the hall, avoided his smiles, then his scowls, and then his heartbreaking glances. She had fed tears to the shower and ached to explain. Instead, she found the opposite of Tanner: Riot. A boy whose needs were upfront, like the kind of restaurant where the ketchup and mustard are always out on the table.

When she blinked back to Tristan, she couldn't quite tell how much she'd said aloud. He had that affect on her. And his eyes put Tanner's to shame. The blue was so focused. It was worse than warm; it was acceptance. But then maybe Tristan did this to everyone. Maybe that's why people liked him. After all, he'd already proved he was a social chameleon.

“You do realize this is the first real conversation we've ever had.” She paused. “Why are we talking about my exes?”

“You brought it up.”

A few freshmen passed, and Tristan bumped fists with two of them.

She was annoyed all over again, and it was much more familiar than being honest. “You think you know me because you watched my tapes at JAFA. But you only know how I fly. You don't know anything about me on the ground. Besides the fact that…”

She couldn't say it. Couldn't bring up her father.

Tristan eyed her. “I bet you think you know me because you've seen me fly a few times.”

“I know you're—” Chase's voice cut off because they'd turned the corner. The auditorium door was open, and Riot stood cross-armed in the entrance. He looked from Chase to Tristan, and his face twitched.

“You stood me up last night.” Riot was angry, but he forced a smile, which made her want to punch him.

“We already talked about this, Riot.”

“Are you breaking up with me?”

“Did you think we were together? Wouldn't that involve dates or hand-holding or anything vaguely romantic?” Riot looked more hurt than she had intended, and she was overly aware Tristan was listening. “We're friends. Just no more…you know.”

“Nyx,” he said. Chase tried to pass him, but he tugged on her bag. She checked the desire to throw him off, not wanting to embarrass him. To make a Tanner of him. “I knew you were a tease when we started this, but—”

Tristan stepped closer. She expected to see some variety of testosterone overkill, but he was wearing that polite I-love-everyone look.

“Riot. I thought you were a RIO. I hear it's pilots only for this class.”

Chase pushed Riot. “He's leaving.”

Riot's eyes lit up for a fight. “You fuc—”

Sylph flew out of the auditorium. She got Riot by the ear and dragged him down the hallway. “Everyone can hear you blabbering at Nyx. Get your head together and get to class!” She shoved him and stomped back toward the door. “You,” she snapped at Chase. “You fix him ASAP.” Her braid swung as she whipped into the auditorium.

“Wow,” Tristan said. “You guys definitely have more fun than we did at our academy.”

“How's that?” Chase felt a creeping blush. “You guys didn't mess around?”

“There were thirty-four cadets at JAFA. Eleven girls. We were close like a family. I think it would have been like dating my cousins. I mean, consider the breakups…yikes.”

Chase felt judged. No doubt Tristan was hearing that her breakups always ended badly. Tanner was among the worst, but others had become favorite stories in the rec room. There was Killian, who became a booze-in-his-water-bottle drunk. And Meg, who bitched Chase out so loud in the chow hall that even Ritz had overheard, spawning a super awkward conversation about “alternative sexualities.”

The flash of heat in her face was giving away her embarrassment, which only brought about an even deeper flush. This was why she didn't like to talk to people. It was a steep fall from telling someone nothing—to everything. She had to push him back beyond her walls and out of her way.

Chase was shaking her head without realizing it. “I'm glad I'm American then. JAFA sounds like it would have been way too small for me.”

“Good thing I'm no longer stuck there.” Tristan's expression darkened. The recollection that his academy—his world—had burned came a little late. Chase saw the deeper side of him in that moment. The hard as steel pilot. Right before he blew it with a Sylph-quality insult. “I hear you'd find someone no matter the situation.”

He was over the wall all right. He was light-years away in a blink. But then she'd known since that first moment she saw him that he knew how to hit the gas. Nonetheless, something dense sunk inside as she scrounged up a retort.

“True. I hook up with everyone. Except Canadians.”

The overhead lights were already off in the auditorium, and the only light came from the projector screen on the stage.

Chief Master Sergeant Black fussed with the media equipment while every pilot at the Star sat tall in flip-down chairs. Chase took a spot toward the back, more than a little aware that Tristan settled in her row, two seats over. She got the feeling that although they had just traded barbs, he still wanted to be pals with her.

No way.

Sylph sat a few rows down and threw a threatening look over her shoulder. Chase felt the girl's glare like a laser scope. Riot was now a problem. A problem that came with Sylph. He had been fun because she had assumed he wasn't like Tanner. He wasn't sweet or innocent. He wasn't trying to make her his girlfriend—but apparently he had been. How could she keep missing these signs?

“What are we going to watch today, Chief Black?” Baron, the Star's token idiot, yelled. “More Soviet MiGs? They were fun.”

A few people laughed, but the chief ignored them as the screen turned a solid blue-green, what the ocean looked like from the onboard cameras beneath a wing.

Chase felt a chill she couldn't place.

“Today we're watching Taiwan in 2020,” Black finally said.

The flyboys went mute; the room deadened. The Battle of Taiwanese Independence could do that—strike a whole room of jock pilots into silence. After all, it was the most infamous dogfight in the history of military aviation.

Chief Black cleared his throat. “On January 21, 2020, Taiwan declared independence from China without the support of Ri Xiong Di.”

Several people booed, but Chase wasn't among them. Neither was Tristan.

He leaned across the seats between them with a whisper. “Ri Xiong Di translates to ‘sun brothers.' It's supposed to imply divine right.”

“I know. I went to elementary school,” she returned. “Nice flat-hatting, Arrow.” He leaned back with that annoyed yet engaged look that she actually enjoyed seeing on his face.

The chief continued. “On January 26, the U.S. stepped up to help Taiwan defend its freedom.”

“The day of my grandmother's funeral,” Chase said absently.

“What?” Tristan asked.

The video began, and no one could look away. Fighter jets flew in packs, the view switching between multiple onboard cameras. It felt like thousands of birds, but Chase knew from her history class that there were five hundred and seventy-nine fighter jets in that sky and eight hundred and twelve U.S. drones.

Chase's heart started to pound.

The distant horizon showed smoke above the tiny island of Taiwan, while from the south, a scarlet cloud appeared. The jets attempted maneuver after maneuver as the dogfight commenced. There was no sound, but Chase could hear the pilots like a nightmare looping through her thoughts. They were all calling Mayday. All asking what was happening.

All cursing prayers to an absent God.

In flashes that felt too closely edited, the tape proved what had happened in the sky that day: a complete loss. A mess of explosions and the swirl of crashing jets. The blue-green sea peppered with sinking, smoking heaps of American metal.

Chase's whole body hurt from gripping the armrests.

The screen went black, and her eyes found new focus on Kale's silhouette beneath the red glow of the emergency exit light. She hadn't seen him come in.

“You might be wondering why we're watching this tape,” Kale said, walking toward the center of the room.

Someone sniffled. Chase was shocked to see Sylph off to the side, wiping tears. So the girl
did
feel things.

“We're watching this to remind you that although you are safe at the Star, no one is truly safe while we are at the mercy of Ri Xiong Di's control. Should they appear in our sky tomorrow, we would have to surrender. We would be absorbed into the New Eastern Bloc's empire. The only reason it hasn't happened already is that they're still more focused on Europe, but…the hourglass is turned. We are all on a clock. This is why the military is experimenting with new defenses. New offenses.”

“The Streakers,” Baron threw in.

“Yes, and there are other attempts to fortify our borders. The Navy is developing new submarines while the Marines train for large-scale domestic defense. Everyone is preparing.” He sat on the front of the stage before the screen, his hands folded in his lap. “Only three of you here fly Streakers right now, but you're all pilots. Someday soon, if the trials are successful, you'll all be flying Streakers. You'll all be facing red drones. What I want to ask you today is if you feel prepared.”

No one answered.

Sylph's hand went up after a long moment. Her voice was wired. “Tell me why they didn't retreat. All those fighters just went after the red drones. It was suicide.”

Kale checked the room. He found Chase. “Does anyone have an answer?”

Tristan spoke up. “The U.S. had never seen the drones before. The fleet snuck up from the Philippines, unveiling their superior speed, firepower, and maneuverability.”

“Boola-boola,” Baron tried to joke. Chase wanted to pummel him, but someone got there first. He yelped.

“Boola-boola?” Kale looked pained. “No pilot has ever been able to take down a red drone. Not one. None of our pilots survived that day. Those drones don't just aim for a jet. Their missiles lock on the
cockpit
, not the wings or engines.”

“They're pilot-killing machines,” Sylph said.

The room died once again.

“Nyx has seen the drones and lived to get away,” Tanner said, turning in his seat to face her. His pride made her more uncomfortable than the general conversation. “Tell them.”

Chase looked from Kale to the span of eyes in the crowd. “Wasps,” she said. “I got too close to the d-line a few months back.”

“What was it like?”

“Like nothing else mattered.” Remembering them thrilled Chase, and not in a good way.

“Like we're already at war,” Tristan added. Chase could tell by his tone that he'd seen them too. She fought the sudden urge to grab his sleeve like she'd done in the hallway before the debriefing.

“Cool,” Baron said.

“Not cool,” Tristan said at the same time Chase threw her pen at Baron. It connected with his stupid skull with a satisfying
thwick
.

Baron rubbed his head before turning a question at Kale. “But the drones can't overtake the Streakers, right?”

Kale didn't answer because there was no answer. No way to be sure. The U.S. had never captured a drone to chart its capabilities. Could the Streakers best one? They hoped and planned, but they sure as hell didn't know for sure.

Chase disappeared into her memory. She had been able to fly away at Mach 4 the day she saw the drones, the fastest she'd ever flown, but she never bragged about it. That many drones
could
take down a Streaker, no matter how fast they could fly. If they all fired their missiles, there wouldn't be a direction to flee in.

That's what Pippin had said, and he was never wrong about these things.

“Cadets.” Kale cleared his throat. “Pilots. It's important you know that a
cold
war
only means our aggressions aren't public. But you should all bet your military-owned butts that things are always happening: in the sky, on the ground, at sea.”

Chase could feel the heat of JAFA's blaze on her cheeks. Tristan stared at his boots. He didn't look like he was breathing.

“Where were you during the battle in Taiwan?” someone asked Kale.

“Still at the academy. It was my last semester.” He didn't appear happy about the question.

“You know what though? Ri Xiong Di knows we're serious now,” Baron said. “They got their fill a few months after Taiwan when Tourn got through with their drone base on the Philippines.”

Chase crossed her arms to restrain her fists. Of course, an idiot like Baron would be a fan of her father's nuclear legacy.

“That bomb killed thousands of innocent Filipinos as well as destroying that fleet of red drones, Baron,” Tanner yelled. No one hated Tourn like Tanner, which had always made Chase feel on the edge of disaster when they were together. “Tourn's nuke didn't stop anything. They had dozens of red drone fleets waiting.”

Kale held up a hand. “Do not give General Tourn credit or blame for that bomb. He was operating under orders. That should be clear, despite the media's delight in blaming him.”

Chief Black flicked on the lights. Chase was relieved this discussion wasn't going to devolve into a “let's bash Tourn” party. She appreciated that Kale had pointed out the hard truth about her father's past. Tourn had been a young hotshot pilot back in 2020. His higher-ups commanded him to fly over the Philippines and drop a bomb.

And he did it.

Everyone at the Star knew about following orders, and yet everyone hated Tourn. It didn't help that he had a reputation for being the absent lord of the Star—the one to hate for rules, restrictions, and leave time cuts. The one to blame.

Fault was a strong wind. She'd always felt it blowing in Tourn's direction, but she was starting to feel it on her own skin. Did her recklessness inadvertently cause JAFA's destruction? She glanced at Tristan. Did he blame her? As much as she didn't want to get friendly, she had to admit they had unfinished business.

“Wonder what it was like,” Chase said, not realizing she was speaking aloud. “All those birds flying in. Outnumbered by the drones, a hundred to one.”

“I imagine it was a nightmare. And then it was over.” Kale clapped once and Chase jumped. “That fast.”

All
of Tourn's fellow pilots—his friends—had died in the sky over Taiwan that day. If he hadn't been on leave for his mother's funeral, he would have been up there with them. He would have been shot down. The five hundred and eightieth jet.

Then he never would have met Janice at a diner one night.

Chase swore her existence wavered like a match flame.