Breaking Sky (21 page)

“Think of it this way, Chase. If there's any kind of decent in that man, he would have kept you far away from him. Protected you from his reputation.”

“You mean like change my last name to Harcourt instead of Tourn?”

“Your last name was Tourn? Chase Tourn? That sounds like a comic book hero.”

“He paid Janice to change it—a week after he sent me back. My stitches were still bleeding,” she said.

“Your stitches? I don't know what you're talking about, Chase.” Pippin's voice was all nerves. “We shouldn't fly right now. You're really upset.”

“We have to.” She fired the engines and felt the roar envelop her.
Phoenix
and
Pegasus
were already on the runway. “Can we check in with Arrow…and Sylph?” she added, hoping to camouflage the fact that she just wanted to hear Tristan's voice.

“There's no shortwave radio connection allowed,” Pippin said. “We're on our own up there. Archmen covered that in the rundown, remember?”

She directed
Dragon
out of the hangar and watched
Phoenix
screech into the sky. Tristan held his hand up. A cocky wave that brought her back to her wings ablaze and the blue silver of
Dragon
. “I can do this,” she told herself. “I have to.” She took a deep breath. Then another. “Ready, Pippin baby?”

“Always, Nyxy muffin.” Pippin's tone didn't have its usual zip.

Perhaps he knew better.

Chase pulled it together enough to win the speed test by the length of the Green, hitting Mach 5. Tristan held on to Mach 4, while Sylph made herself comfortable at three.

Chase's body thrummed with adrenaline by the time she reached the coordinates for the maneuverability test. Hundreds of old fighter jets hung in the air, creating a cloud of bogeys that reminded her of the swarm of drones she'd seen a few months back.

“Look at that, Pip.”

“They're set up like a maze. You've got to maneuver through them like an obstacle course.”

A sour taste filled her mouth. Obstacle courses weren't her thing. And if she made a false move, she'd smash into a jet with a poor pilot inside like a sitting duck. She settled herself between
Phoenix
and
Pegasus
on an imaginary line and waited for the go-ahead while her hands grasped the throttle and stick uneasily.

When the signal came, she took off with her heartbeats striking noticeably in her chest. Sylph sprung ahead, showing off her impressive maneuverability. She even looked like she was going to win for half of it, but Tristan picked up a rhythm and ended up beating her by a Streaker wing.

Pippin and Chase had a good view of Sylph's swearing, slamming anger in her cockpit a few hundred yards away. “She's going to make Riot's ears bleed,” Pippin said.

Chase eyed
Phoenix
off and on, feeling flashes of the previous night's engagements. She held on to the image of him kissing her, making her laugh. And then the conversation that stretched on and on until they were punchy with exhaustion. The memory almost managed to push away her stinging thoughts about Tourn.

And her thumping anxiety over the final test.

“What now?” she asked Pippin.

“We wait to find out what this combat is all about.”

They didn't have to wait long. The fighter jets started to weave.
All
of
them. Dragon
's missile lock alarm went off, making Chase seize in her chair.

“Every single one of those birds is engaging!” Pippin yelled.

Chase watched the cloud of jets come to life and turn at her. “Holy shit, they're trying to lock on us!”

The Streakers split up, and the fighters chased. They weren't fast enough to keep up, but there were enough of them to get in the way and completely muck up her escape. Plus, she knew deep down that she wasn't supposed to escape. This was the combat portion of the test.

A dogfight to end all dogfights.

Chase pulled Tristan's maneuver, the back loop, and missile locked on an F-18 Hornet. The jet bugged out as soon as it had been tagged. “Well, there's the secret. We have to tag every single one of these suckers. Here we go.”

Pippin didn't answer; he was too busy keeping their tail clear.

Chase glanced over and saw that
Phoenix
and
Pegasus
had caught on too, and the long pursuit began. It seemed to take many hours, although it probably wasn't more than two. Chase's eyes went blurry from exhaustion. Her ears stung from hearing the warning alarms when the jets flew too close, but in the end, the Streakers proved they could outfly and outmaneuver every single jet up there.

Dragon
felt like a hummingbird among crows, darting circles, in and out before the jet in question saw her. Her body lined with sweat, and her hands were shaking by the time there were only three jets left in the sky. Three Streakers.

“Are we done?” Chase asked Pippin.

“Nope. We're supposed to get flagged when it's over.”

“Then what are we waiting…” Chase's voice died out. She saw
Phoenix
move into a striking position behind
Pegasus
. “No way,” she said. “This is a ‘last jet in the sky wins' kind of thing, isn't it?”

“That sounds about as original as the military can muster. So, sure.”

Chase watched Tristan gain missile lock on Sylph, who then left the scene with an angry burst of speed. Now it was just the two of them. “This should be interesting,” she said. “He won't let me win this time.”

“Does anyone else feel awkward?” Pippin asked. “I feel awkward.”

Chase threw herself into the throttle and felt the magnetic surge of
Phoenix
blasting after her. They flew for heartbeats, for minutes. Forever. She swung around when they were way over Canada, engaging him full-on, a strong smile spreading over her face.

“Nyx!” Pippin yelled, snapping her concentration. “Do you see that? Look at the screen.”

Chase glanced down and saw a blip coming at them. Fast.

Faster than fast.

She peered at the horizon until she saw something small.

Something bloodred.

• • •

Chase lost Tristan in a sunburst. “Red drone! It's fake, isn't it?” She was already running evasive maneuvers, but her mind was a blaze of denial. “It's for the combat test, right?”

“Looks real to me!” Pippin yelled.

She flew zigzagging getaway patterns, but the drone was faster. “Where did it come from?”

“It must have caught wind of our maneuvers. We were in the sky too long after what happened last week.” Pippin was frantic, punching at his controls.

“Can't you get the tower on the radio?”

“No joy. Can that drone jam our signal?”

Kale's warning from a few days ago lit up her spine.

“
Hunted
,” she murmured. “So I guess it's good we've got real missiles now, huh?”

“
Good
isn't the word I'd use.”

Phoenix
was flying tight beside her. She checked the desire to look over at his cockpit. She had to go faster. They had to split up. The drone would only be able to follow one of them.

Tristan must have understood. He broke right. She went left.

“I guess we win,” Pippin said as the drone swung after them. “Or lose.”

Chase dropped her altitude and speed until the drone was right on her butt, then rocketed
Dragon
out over a gorgeous patch of wilderness, complete with emerald fields and a huge bottle-blue lake.

“There's no one here,” she said, gasping between each word. “No people down there. We should do it here.” She flipped up the switch cover of the missile control and put a stiff finger on the trigger. “That drone can't go back to Ri Xiong Di, and it
can't
follow us to the Star, right?”

Pippin's response came a mile behind her question. “Right.”

Chase hit the fastest speed she could reach on her tired muscles and swung over the shimmering water. Too fast, the drone was on top of them. She hit the brakes, and it flew by overhead so close that Chase heard the screech of metal on metal. She headed back into the atmosphere, shaking the drone a little bit off her tail before she had no choice but to come back down.

Down
.

Too low. She had to pull back up, but the drone seemed to be waiting for her move. It engaged, nose to nose.

Chase fired, but the drone shot first.

A missile came at them in a blur.

At the cockpit.

Chase jammed the stick sideways. The jet jinked, and
Dragon
's left wing exploded.

“Nyx!” Pippin cried out. They fell in a gut-twisting spin. Chase fought for control while the lake seemed to rise to meet the jet.

They were too low to eject.

She couldn't save the landing.

They skipped off the surface as though it were granite.
Dragon
's right wing ripped off with a horrible screech. Chase's head whipped against her seat back, and they slammed to a stop near the sandy shore.

Smoke filled the cockpit. The canopy glass was somehow still holding shape, and yet it had been fractured like a net thrown over them. She hit the release and the canopy rose.

Chase got out of her seat, choking on each breath. “Pippin!” she tried to yell.

His head hung over his chest, and when she shook him, he didn't move.

Chase hauled Pippin onto her shoulder. They fell over the side of the jet, landing with a splash in the few inches of water. She dragged him away from
Dragon
. The wet sand swallowed each step, and she stumbled several times before they fell into a pile at the lapping edge of the lake.

Her helmet was gone, and she didn't know when she'd lost it. She pulled Pippin's off, finding a huge crack across the back of it. Bad sign. She checked his pulse, but her fingers were too cold from the water. She pressed her ear to his chest and listened for a beat.

He had one. Thank God.

“Wake up.” She shook him. She knew she should be gentle, but she couldn't stop herself. “Pippin?”

His eyelids trembled before they opened. “My head,” he said.

“You cracked it.”

“
You
cracked it,” he argued.

A bit of relief settled in. If he was joking, he was okay. She forced herself to breath, looking at the cloudless blue sky. “Where's
Phoenix
? Where'd that drone go? Will it come back?”

No one responded.

“Pip?” Chase pulled his body over her lap, and his head tilted at a harsh angle like he couldn't hold it up.

“I'm gonna—gonna—” He threw up, and she held his shoulders while the water turned gross. He collapsed onto her lap, and Chase found blood all over her hands. All down Pippin's flight suit.

“Your head is bleeding,” she said. “I've got to get you out of the water.”

“Doesn't matter. Cerebral edema. Brain filling with blood.”

“Don't mess with me.” She swore. “Rescue helos are on their way. It'll be any minute.”

“They're hours away. We're in Nowhere, Canada. I'm the navigator, remember? You're the one failing geography.” He sucked in breath. “I have a few minutes, maybe, before the pressure takes out my higher brain functions.”

She ignored him. “We just have to stay chill to fight off shock. Okay?”

“Okay.”

There was that word again. That god-awful word.

“Chase, I'm not going to make any sense in a…really soon. Hurts.”

“You're not a doctor, and your head is fine.” But it wasn't. His head felt heavier in her lap. It was
swelling
in her hands and—if Pippin was right—inside his skull.

An eerie calm fell over them as the water bloomed red. Chase forced herself to focus on him, but her fear was the wind and it was pulling her apart. “You just need some stitches and you'll be all right.” She squeezed his uniform, pulled him tighter.

Pippin's eyes were glassy, bulging almost, but they were fastened to hers. “I hate these movies. They always kill the gay kid.”

“Shut up. You're not dying.”

“Why're you so sure?” he asked.

“Do you see me begging for forgiveness or spouting I love yous?”

“Indeed.” He tried to smile, but his lips didn't quite make it. Blood lined his teeth. The panic spread from the corner of her mind and fractured inward at an alarming rate. Chase couldn't breathe. She couldn't lose Pippin.

Her breath rasped, and she glanced at the sky to hide her tears. “Where
are
they?”

“Lost my left eye. Confused,” he said. “The bridge…cross it. The right one.” He started to gasp. His breath stalled out. “Respiratory center affected.
Confused
.”

“Stop diagnosing yourself!” She shook him and then pressed her face to his hair. It was wet and gritty with sand. “Tell me about ‘Ode to Joy.' What's it really about?”

“About joy. I was being…a…difficult.” He cried out suddenly, his breath breaking apart. “Terrified,” he said. “No legs.”

“Your legs are fine,” she said, choking on the words. The world was leaning in, shaking her, pushing her. She held Pippin even tighter. “Tell me something. Come on, Pip.”

“Up, down, the notes. Up…and down.” He closed his eyes. “Fools fly. No. Listen,
Chase
.”

He gave her name his last tearing breath.

Chase tripped down the shore, desperate to escape the waft of smoke.

She left Pippin's body. Her voice was broken from saying his name, and her flight suit was stained red from her stomach to her knees. When she could barely see
Dragon
, she sat hard and folded her legs into her chest.

Pippin was dead. The truth was too much, so she lost it. She let it go. It fled upward with the smoke, leaving her alone. And then she waited. She hoped Pippin wasn't right, that the rescue helos wouldn't be hours away.

But Pippin was always right. Even about his own failing body.

Chase checked the sky for the red drone. For
Phoenix
. All she found were a few large birds belatedly heading south for winter in a sluggish formation. It was too normal. Too picturesque for what had just happened. Her breath became erratic, cutting in her lungs with each seizing inhale.

The crystal canopy Chase kept over her for so long had fractured. Fallen away. Now she was laid bare to a cruel wind. To feeling everything. The gust chapped the dried blood on her hands as she drew Ritz's heart circle in the rough sand.

She wrote
Henry
in its center.

And cried.

The helicopters came with a blast of furious sound. Two of them landed beside
Dragon
while a third hung in the air, making the surface of the lake turn white with chop. She saw the rescuers looking for her. Saw them sprinting down the beach. They were adults, not cadets. Real airmen, like everyone at the academy pretended to be.

Chase stood up, and one of the medics wrapped a reflective blanket around her. He led her to one of the helicopters, strapped her to a stretcher, her legs elevated. He swung a flashlight over her eyes and asked her questions. Many, many questions. She didn't bother to listen, let alone answer.

Through the open door, Chase watched
Dragon
being doused with white foam from the helicopter hovering over the crash site.

“You're going to be all right,” the medic said. She started to laugh, a sick sound even in her own ears. “She's in shock,” he yelled to the pilot. “Let's go!”

They took off just as an alarm pierced the helo. Chase thrashed, certain that the red drone had returned to finish her. “It's back! It's back!”

The medic held her down. “That's the military beacon,” he said. “There are no bogies inbound.” He pinned her arms and was leaning too close as he shouted to the pilot. His voice hit her like a smack. “What's happening?”

“Terror alert has been raised to ‘severe.' President Grainor is addressing the nation. He's declared a state of emergency.”

Chase's mind grasped at questions without understanding them. How could the president know? How long had she been on that beach? What was happening?

“What's coming from General Tourn?” the medic yelled to the pilot. “War?”

“Grainor says Congress is in session now,” the pilot yelled back. “They'll declare soon.”

Chase squeezed her eyes, confused and suddenly shivering. She felt
war
—such a small word—try to eclipse the crash, but it couldn't. It couldn't touch Pippin. She wouldn't let it.

“Where's my RIO?” she asked.

“In the other helo,” the medic replied. He stuck a syringe in her arm without warning. Unconsciousness glided over her, and the rest of his words reached her unevenly.

“That's what…we get for…letting kids fly.”