He grinned. “How often do you get to use that joke?”
“Not enough.” She took her dog tags off and wrapped the chain around her wrist. “I’m glad I could help you up there.” It was no use; no matter where she looked, the air was growing heavier. She could feel his eyes endlessly pulling at her. She forced a laugh. “With this much tension, we really will put on a good show for the government board. Don’t you think?”
“What I think?” He took her dog tags and ran his fingers over the imprint of her name. “I think about what will happen after the trials if Ri Xiong Di doesn’t back down. It’s all I can think about. What about you?”
“I don’t,” she lied instinctively. She stole her dog tags and jumped down the stairs. It had felt good to open up to him until this moment. If he was going to start talking about the Second Cold War, she was done.
“See you later, Arrow.” She felt herself flee inside even as she jogged out of the hangar. Guns, missiles, dogfights. Bombs.
Death.
That’s what would happen if they couldn’t find a way to make Ri Xiong Di back down. That’s what was on the other side of the trials. The sheer fact that this was not a game.
24
BOOLA-BOOLA
The Call for Bringing Down a Drone
The sky was an old friend. Chase spiraled through a thick cloud and into the wisp-blue of high altitude. The week hadn’t been kind. Not after a mild concussion and a fight that lingered in every word she shared with her RIO. “Ready for a little heat, Pippin?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said. No snappy words. No joke.
She punched the throttle, imagining Dragon’s fiery wake. Whenever she thought about her midnight smackdown with Pippin, she felt some sort of spiky creature reposition itself in her chest. She was dying to let it out, but Pippin’s stringent lack of eye contact proved that to be impossible.
So she focused on flying. The trials were in less than two months—she had to focus.
“How’s the weight?” Pippin asked through the amped volume of their helmet mics.
“The weight?”
“The missiles, Nyx.”
Chase wobbled left and right, testing out the latest wrench thrown into the Streaker pilots’ training: deactivated missiles snuggled beneath her wings. “The drag is mild, but I still can’t imagine firing them.”
“You’ve got to learn how to aim first.”
As if on cue, Phoenix shot up from behind. Dragon’s warning alarm blared through the cockpit. Chase punched it off and flipped on the shortwave radio. “We got it, Arrow! You know how to get us under missile lock. Give me a chance to work this out!”
“I thought Nyx was supposed to be the fun one,” Romeo responded. “She’s complaining like Sylph these days.”
“I am on the same frequency, you punk,” Sylph growled over the channel. Pegasus pulled up from a thick cloud and chased Phoenix across the horizon.
Sylph had about as much luck as Chase in getting Phoenix between the crosshairs. Tristan was as fast as ever and executed evasive maneuvers she hadn’t even heard of. What made matters worse—he knew how to engage missile lock while he seemed to be trying to escape. He got Chase twice by hitting the brakes and pulling an inverted loop to maneuver behind her.
Chase swore under her breath in a long string, but she also kind of loved it. Speed and a solid challenge were exactly what she needed to get her head back into trial preparation.
Pegasus reappeared without Phoenix. Sylph attempted to get a lock on Chase, but she pulled one of Tristan’s moves—inverting them long enough for Pippin to complain.
“Warn me next time,” he said. “All the blood is in my face.”
“What say we take out Sylph?” Chase asked, hoping a common enemy might bring them closer together. Pippin didn’t respond, but Sylph did.
“We’re taking turns, Nyx,” Sylph ordered over the radio. “Swapping defense and offense. Those are the rules you agreed to.”
“There won’t be any rules when we’re up against red drones,” Chase pointed out.
“Indeed,” Pippin said, and that tiny moment of accord blunted her thorny feelings inside.
Experimenting with more of Tristan’s moves, Chase went after Pegasus. By the time she’d achieved missile lock on Sylph four times, she was feeling much better. Chase fielded Sylph’s protest and agreed to let Pegasus attack in the next round.
Chase counted down. “One, two—”
“Three,” Tristan’s voice cut in.
Phoenix flashed by so fast that Chase took seconds to recover before blazing after him. Sylph vanished from her thoughts as she sped after Tristan. She caught him at Mach 3, streaking over the green glisten of the Great Salt Lake. His low laugh filled the shortwave.
The two jets spiraled together until Chase went light-headed. When they reached the thinnest layer of atmosphere, Phoenix and Dragon dove in tandem. Tristan broke left, and she swept under him, their metal bodies grazing. Chase couldn’t help wondering what it might feel like to get that close to Tristan without jets. Skin to skin.
Her body thrummed, so much so that she missed the first emergency beacon lighting up her controls. “What’s the problem, Pippin?”
“Emergency code from the Star. They’re paging in a satellite link.”
Chase held her finger over the switch. “But it could be a code virus trying to get control of the flight software.”
“Is it coming from the Star?” Tristan asked.
“Yes,” Pippin said. “Unless Ri Xiong Di has figured out how to reroute the signal.”
“But if it’s home base, and they’re bothering to reach out, this has got to be important.” Chase didn’t wait to deliberate. She flicked the link on, holding her breath and waiting for Dragon’s controls to be overridden.
Waiting.
Kale’s voice came instead. “Phoenix and Dragon, get to Pegasus!” He yelled so loudly that Chase’s ears hurt. “Get to Pegasus!”