“Oh yeah. I hypnotized him and made him punch a mirror.”
“I don’t doubt it,” he said too knowingly. Had he been talking to Ritz? Christ. Chase panicked, looking everywhere but at the brigadier general. “Harcourt, I do try to keep my head above the teenage gossip of the academy, but there are certain lines we should observe.” He cleared his throat. Chase rushed with embarrassment, feeling like she was about to get the Star’s version of a sex talk. “There are some concerns…”
“Spit it out.” Chase pulled too hard on her leather gloves and gave herself finger wedgies.
“I’d rather you not get friendly with Router.”
If she’d thought she was red before, she was scarlet now, and Kale’s neck flushed to match. “Right.” She hurried to her cockpit.
“What was that about?” Pippin asked as she swung into her seat.
She fastened her harness. “A dose of mortification.”
“What?”
“Like you care,” she muttered. She switched the mic connect between their helmets and revved the engines. Dragon was warm and ready. It was exactly what she had been missing this past week. It would help her get past everything.
Pegasus headed onto the runway, followed by Phoenix. Chase left the hangar last, watching Sylph shoot into the air, her whole being glittering with impending lightness.
“Ready for the speed of heat, Pippin baby?” A little ire slipped in with her zeal.
“Always, Nyxy muffin,” he deadpanned while messing with his controls. Someone chuckled over the radio, and Chase bristled.
“What’s so funny?” she demanded.
“Nothing, honey badger,” Tristan said. Romeo laughed as Phoenix swept off the runway. Maybe Tristan was trying to tease her out from under his cold snap a few minutes earlier, but it wasn’t working. Especially after Kale’s awkward warning.
“Nyx. Quit flirting,” Sylph cut in from roughly two thousand feet. “Time to fly.”
Chase gritted her teeth. Dragon’s throttle hummed in a new, exciting way. She closed her eyes and tried to mold her thoughts around the vibrations. She needed to sink into a place where Crackers wasn’t after her wings. Where Riot hadn’t confirmed Tanner’s colorful title for her.
She opened her eyes and set her sights on Phoenix.
Her hands tightened on the stick and throttle until each knuckle strained. No worries, Kale. There was no way she was getting friendly with Tristan. Chase was going to knock him out of the sky. The poor boy—he had no idea.
? ? ?
A half hour later, Dragon and Pegasus flew wing to wing before a stretch of Canadian wilderness. The pines undulated as the land phased into low mountains. Silvery lakes spotted the woods.
Phoenix was nowhere in sight, having lagged back not long after takeoff. Chase might have thought something was wrong, but before she could worry, Arrow met them at the coordinates, announcing his arrival over the radio.
“My country,” he said.
“Think they get Wi-Fi out here?” Pippin asked, and Chase snorted.
“Let’s get this over with,” Sylph said. “They want to see which one of us is the slowest. As if we don’t already know.” Chase felt for Sylph. She was an amazing pilot, but speed was not her strong suit, and the Streakers were becoming increasingly about just that. “Who’s going to count off?”
“Let Pippin do it,” Romeo said. “We’ve seen his file. You guys know his IQ is like eighty points higher than the rest of us put together?”
“We know,” Sylph and Riot droned together.
“If anyone’s qualified to count from ten, it’s him,” Romeo added.
“In what language?” Pippin’s voice cracked, and the radio went full volume with laughter. Romeo added a few words in French, and Pippin quipped back.
“All right already,” Chase said. “Pippin, call it.”
Pippin counted down, and Chase glanced at Phoenix. Tristan’s face was lost behind his visor and mask, but he was looking her way, and she could almost feel the heat behind his eyes.
She had to beat him.
Chase centered her breath and locked her vision straight ahead. A thousand miles due northeast had been cleared of all military and commercial flights. Enough space for a serious drag race. And the new throttle was so sensitive…
Pippin called three, two, one—and Chase shot forward. The press of gravity restrained her for the briefest of flashes before she broke forward, hitting Mach 1…2…3. Sylph fell behind. Her RIO’s breath came loudly through his teeth. Tristan stayed too close, his nose under her left wing for a few hundred miles that passed like heartbeats.
“Hey, you have to warn me before you hit the gas like that,” Pippin said. “I need to get ready.”
“Then be ready,” she snapped. There were so many elements out of her control—Tourn, the trials, Ri Xiong Di, and her best friend’s increasing distance. But what she could do was fly, beat Tristan, and prove she was not only good enough to fly a Streaker, but also the best pilot among the three of them.
She hit Mach 4, feeling like she was about to turn into a solid strip of silver light. The pressure made her tremble while the land below turned a green bleeding color. Fear trickled through her, and her body agreed. The monochrome crept in.
“I’m feeling pretty gray, Nyx. Talk to me,” Pippin said.
“Oh, now you want to talk.” She hit the throttle even harder.
“Nyx!” Pippin shouted. “This is too much!”
“So tighten up,” she yelled. Tristan could go faster than this—he’d proven it in the simulators. She set herself tighter. Pippin would just have to come back when it was all over.
“Stand down, Dragon,” Arrow said. “Your RIO is calling Mayday.”
“Shove off, Arrow.” Chase flicked off the shortwave. “Don’t make me lose this, Pip.”
“I’m losing it!” Pippin yelled. “Chase, please! Please!”
Phoenix dropped away at that moment, falling back so swiftly that he vanished.