She punched the throttle as they rolled onto the runway. Dragon sped around Pegasus, cutting off Sylph. This was Chase’s life. Her wings. Wasn’t that what Kale was always telling her? Fly from the gut. Use your fear. Trust your instincts. Well, all three of those things were telling her to risk it all. Prove herself.
Dragon blasted down the runway only to spin out and turn back around. She directed them at Pegasus. She tasted the same kind of blind resolve that had sent her into the landmine obstacle course when she was twelve, trying to prove to her father she was as tough as his recruits. She’d failed that time, emerging muddied, heartbroken, and slick with her own blood. But she wouldn’t fail today.
“Are we playing chicken with Sylph? Because that’s not really a contest.” Pippin was trying to joke. To reach her.
No joy.
Sylph was already trying to get out of the way, but Chase turned toward her and kicked up the speed.
“You should have told me, Pippin,” she said through her teeth. “I thought we trusted each other.”
“Chase…”
“And Kale should know that if he’s going to make me look crazy, I’m going to act crazy.” Chase accelerated so fast that Sylph had to turn awkwardly to avoid collision. Pegasus slid out on the ice and rammed a ground crew supply shack.
Chase shot Dragon into the air.
“You took out Sylph!” Pippin yelled.
“Oops,” she said flatly. Chase headed past Canada, toward America, her plan in action and her thoughts blind to everything else. Kale tried to reach her on the emergency feed, and Pippin pleaded, but she ignored all of it and flew—nothing but the ever-blue air and the promise of seeing Phoenix lighting up her veins.
? ? ?
“I’m sorry,” Pippin said for maybe the fiftieth time. “Whatever you’re about to do to get back at me, I’m sorry!”
Chase ignored him. Her whole body was concentrating on flying. They were approaching the Grand Canyon at Mach 2, and the area was appropriately deserted for what she wanted to do. “Get ready to call Mayday, Pip.”
“What?!”
“We’re going to crash. Or look like we’re crashing. Then they’ll send help, just like last time, and because Sylph is grounded…”
“They’ll send Phoenix,” Pippin finished for her. “God almighty, Nyx.”
“Exactly.”
Pippin started to swear as Dragon dropped into the earth’s great rift. The rust and toast-colored striations zipped past like the jet was entering warp speed.
“Let’s make it look good, shall we?” Chase spun Dragon toward the sun before flipping them to face the ground. A strange thrill overtook the fall, and it matched the buzzing out-of-control spin of her mind.
Pippin hit the emergency radio with very real fear. “Mayday, Mayday, Mayday!”
A few hundred feet before they crashed, Chase pulled on the stick. She dragged in the speed, dropping the landing gear at the last second. They came to a smashing stop, the struts bouncing off the hard-sand bottom. Dragon’s tires let out with a pop and a scream.
Wheezing air filled the sudden silence.
“All right back there?”
Pippin groaned. “I think I just lost forty IQ points.”
“You have enough to spare.” A bit of the insane red was leaving her vision. She might really be on the Down List after this stunt, but she didn’t regret it. “I had to,” she said before Pippin could ask.
“Yeah, well.” He sounded more resigned than angry. “You always do.”
“You’re not mad?”
“Team Nyx,” he said, and she felt his honesty like an embrace. “Maybe you’ll finally get me sent home this time.”
“Knock it off.” Nothing got under her skin faster than when Pippin joked about wanting to leave the Star. “You’re stuck with me whether you like it or not.”
“If you tell me you’re in love with me, I’ll have to point out that you don’t know me.” Pippin’s line had all the appearance of a joke without the tone. Chase made a note to mull that one over later. For now, she scanned the sky for their rescuer.
She didn’t have to wait long.
8
BOARDS OUT
Speed Brakes Extended
A jet screeched overhead.
Phoenix looped into the canyon, the right wing a little higher than the left. The pilot set down like Chase often did, hard and tight and not like Sylph. There was nothing careful or overly rehearsed in his maneuvers, almost like he was making it up as he went.
She burned to know what else they had in common, and she had to hold herself back from flipping the canopy open and jumping out to greet him. Instead, she played dead and ordered Pippin to do the same.
Phoenix taxied over. The third Streaker was identical to the other two, except it didn’t bear any standard markings. No Air Force symbol. Not even the Navy’s—which she had prayed it wouldn’t. Nothing worse than dealing with the TOPGUN know-it-alls. But then, where did the Streaker come from? Why all the mystery and hush-hush?
The bird’s nose turned just to the right of Dragon’s, sidling them cockpit to cockpit.
And there he was: Mr. Red Helmet.
Only a few feet away.
He could have been anyone behind his mask and visor. A robotic lizard, Pippin had suggested, but Chase didn’t see a tail. What she saw was a large, gloved hand pressed to his canopy as he peered close. She saw shoulders like Kale’s and arms that made Riot’s look like pencils.
“I owe you five bucks,” Pippin said. “Looks like a boy to me. The RIO too.”
“I want to meet them,” Chase said.
“And how do you propose—”
“Easy. Let’s follow them home.” Chase unsnapped her mask and showed Phoenix’s team a wide smile. “Got you,” she mouthed.
The pilot’s head panic-swung left and right before he launched Phoenix into the air. Chase shot after them, mangling the takeoff on her popped tires.
“Bad idea, Chase! Way worse than your first one.” If Pippin had given up on her call sign, he really was desperate, but she was so far beyond coming down. She smelled a challenge, and she wasn’t wrong. Phoenix should have been long gone by the time Dragon hit the sky, but she found him right away.