“Where is she, Pip?”
“Balls of fire.” Pippin filled in the coordinates that came over the line. “Sylph’s too far west. Past the coast. She’s over the demarcation line.”
? ? ?
Chase and Tristan flew like a pair of bullets. They reached Mach 4, the world going blurry beneath them long before the silver flash of Pegasus appeared high in the sky.
A maroon dot caught Chase’s eye. It was too close to Sylph. Too close at every turn.
“Is that a—”
“Red drone.” Pippin’s voice cracked. Chase’s speed faltered as her arms shook, pulling back on the throttle.
“What’s she doing out here?” Pippin asked. “And how’d she pick up that tailer?”
“You mean, why hasn’t she lost it yet?” Romeo yelled in. “We’re supposed to be way faster than them.”
“Shut up,” Tristan snapped. “What are we doing, Nyx?” She tightened when he said her call sign, her whole body tuning in. He was deferring to her, asking for her lead, which was kind of shocking.
“Sylph’s too slow. She won’t be able to break away, and she won’t bring the drone over land.”
“She can’t,” Pippin said. “We don’t want that thing anywhere near civilians.”
“It’d be nice if these freakin’ missiles under our wings were more than ornamental,” Romeo said. “If that thing scans one of the Streakers…”
“Oh, God!” It was Riot, close enough to pipe through the shortwave feed. “Help us!”
“Sylph!” Chase cried out. “Say your state!”
“Low fuel.” Sylph gasped. “This thing has locked on me over and over. I keep shaking him, but I can’t outstrip him. I can’t even focus! Why is it so fast?!”
“Nyx.” Tristan’s voice was cool as glass. “What’s the plan?”
“Lead her home, Arrow. I’ll lose the drone.”
“I’m faster,” he argued.
Chase was a crazed mixture of fear and confidence. “You’re the offensive pilot, which would be great if we were armed. I’ve been trained for defense, remember?”
“We’ve got this,” Pippin said. “Chase can do it.” They were close enough now to see Sylph’s Streaker clearly, jerking toward the sun and back down.
The drone was cruelly beautiful, sleek with folded back wings and a narrow nose. Being unmanned, it didn’t need a cockpit, and the effect was a seamless maroon body—and large missiles. Up close, Chase finally understood why the drones were bloodred. Military machines were always camouflaged. Even the Streakers were silver-blue in order to blend into the sky. But not these drones. They were meant to be seen. To be feared.
Mission accomplished.
Phoenix broke right, swinging in to meet Sylph just as her frantic voice came over the radio. “Get this bogey off me!”
“Follow Phoenix,” Chase told Sylph. “He’s going to take you the long way home so they don’t track us.”
“What about you? That drone is fast, Nyx! Faster than we knew.”
“Go!”
Phoenix spun behind Pegasus, washing the drone off course with a burst of speed. Chase drove herself into the drone’s path, letting it grab her heat signal as the other Streakers escaped.
The twin cannon of their sonic booms resounded through her chest.
“We don’t have enough fuel to outrun it for long.” Pippin was so calm. Her rock.
“Okay then. We outfly it right now.”
Chase sent them past Mach 3…4. Sweat appeared all over her body, and she would have been shaking if gravity weren’t cementing her muscles. The pressure took each breath and drove it back down her throat.
And still, the drone was only a few hundred feet behind.
She had to stop it from coming any closer to the western seaboard with those massive missiles. And she could not let it return to Ri Xiong Di after having scanned the Streakers. Her only choice was to make it redline. Make it go so fast it broke itself apart.
“Nyx! I can’t…I’m graying out!” Pippin cried.
Chase heard him this time, but she couldn’t back down.
“I’m sorry.” She shot them faster. Tears bled from the corners of her eyes. “I’m sorry!”
Mach 5 came with a stripping of color. She touched the speed, clung to it. Her whole world turned a white-gray blur. There was a chance—a good one—that this wouldn’t work. That the drone could go as fast as the Streakers. She throttled even farther forward.
Chase had no idea where they were. All she saw was ocean. She pulled low without letting up on the throttle. Alarms screeched through the cockpit, announcing the drone’s missile lock. Chase shot up just as a missile passed beneath Dragon’s belly.
“Pippin!” she yelled. “Check six!”
She prayed that he hadn’t passed out. The pause was too long, but her RIO’s voice returned unevenly. “It’s wobbling. It might. Somersault. Maybe.”
Maybe wasn’t good enough. Chase went faster. A large marker buoy—a metal tower—bobbed on the horizon, and she went straight for it, only pulling above it at the last second. It paid off. An explosion of orange fire behind her announced that the drone hadn’t cleared the buoy.
“Boola-boola,” Chase whispered.
Darkness enveloped her vision, shrinking in. She sucked oxygen, but it didn’t help. “Pippin?” She pulled on the stick to get them some more altitude. To buy some time for her to get her vision back, but it was too late. “Pip?”
Chase slammed at the controls as the crystal sky and the blue earth swirled, and she fell into a hollow.
Black.
Space.
CHARLIE
25
DEADSTICK
Downed
Chase woke on stone or ice. It felt like both. She recognized the dense cold air of the hangar with so much relief that she almost cried out.
“She’s all right,” Kale proclaimed. He put an arm around her shoulders and sat her up. “You’re all right,” he murmured just for her, and the strain in his voice made her hold on to him.