“That is impossible,” Dr. Adrien said. “We need two months. Three days will not be enough time to test the tandem ejection module, let alone the enhanced inverted capabilities.”
“You’ll have to make it work, Doctor,” Tourn said. “Also, the trials will not be public knowledge. There will be no fanfare or involvement from the academy. Let’s not forget we are playing a game we are not likely to win, but if the cadets can convince the board to expand the Streaker project, we might have a chance to launch a fleet by spring. And for that, we need the government’s money. Get it done. I will be there on Sunday to help Brigadier General Kale prepare.”
His image broke as he hung up, and Chase’s chest swelled so fast that she thought her rib cage might split. Two days until Tourn. Three until the trials.
Adrien shook her head. “It will not be enough time. We have not even been able to test the double parachute. I feel very strongly that the pilot and RIO should not be separated in the event of a crash. At average Streaker speed, if they eject separately, they could collide and kill each other.”
“Let’s not do that,” Pippin said. The teams exchanged desperate looks. Romeo started to rant in French to Pippin, who nodded fervently. No matter her fight with Pippin, her RIO talked with Streaker Team Phoenix easily. Chase tried not to burn as she looked at them, but with her father’s damning words hanging in the air, everything was making her smoke.
Kale stared at the corner of the room. “We’ll have to push up the parachute test. Make it happen tomorrow.”
Adrien argued back, but Chase lost track of the conversation when she saw Tristan’s eyes on hers, along with a shot of pity. Nothing pissed her off faster than pity.
Cadet Harcourt did not act fast enough.
Act like you belong…
Chase dug her nails into her palms. She’d broken the manned airspeed record—killed the first red drone—and still she’d failed her father. She stood up so quickly that her chair smacked backward against the tile floor.
Everyone turned to her, and she was glad. The last time she had been in this room, Tourn had brought her to tears. Not this time. “Come on,” she barked at her fellow flyboys. “We have to prepare.”
27
MERGED PLOT
Direct Contact
The Streaker teams followed Chase to the room she shared with Pippin. Chase realized her mistake in bringing them there when she saw everyone try to squish into the small space. Romeo flung himself on Pippin’s bunk. Riot sat on the desktop while Sylph took over the chair. Tristan was left standing in the center of the room, right in Chase’s pacing path. She moved him bodily to the corner, ignoring the way that getting her hands on him made her concentration fog.
If Pippin had a crush on Tristan, that made the boy off-limits.
Didn’t it?
She glanced at her RIO and found him scrambling to get his things out of the way. He stepped close and whispered, “Do they have to be in here?”
“The academy doesn’t know about the trials,” she reminded him. “We can’t talk in public.”
“Yeah, but still.” He shoved three journals into his sock drawer. “This is beyond claustrophobic.” Pippin perched next to Romeo on the edge of his bed, glancing at Tristan’s back just a foot away. Chase couldn’t stop herself from watching the two of them. What had happened that Pippin was so terrified of her finding out about?
“Nyx.” Sylph threw a rolled-up sock at Chase. “Start the meeting.”
Chase blinked and tried to refocus on what had just happened. Tourn. Trials…
Did Tristan tell you about the hangar?
Romeo tapped his wristwatch through the awkward pause. “I’ve set a countdown. Sixty-one hours and twelve minutes until the trials.”
“How incredibly helpful,” Sylph said flatly. “Now we won’t forget.”
Chase popped her knuckles. “All right. So we have three days. Three. And we have to have a plan.”
“A plan for what?” Riot asked, picking at his bandaged hand. “We’re pawns.”
She threw a pleading look at Sylph. Plans were the blonde’s forte.
Sylph sat taller. “Nyx is right.”
“Never thought I’d hear that,” Riot said. Pippin snorted, and Chase threw a dark look at her RIO. He could mouth off at her when they were alone, but not in front of everyone else.
Sylph continued. “They’re not giving the U.S. teams enough time to work on our offensive maneuvers and weapons training, so we need to discuss how we’re not going to look like idiots up there.”
“Keep in mind I still don’t know as much as you do about defense,” Tristan said. “We’re all ill-prepared.”
A dead sort of silence filled the room, and Romeo reclined on Pippin’s pillow, staring up at his family snapshots. Solid minutes ticked by, only broken by Romeo pointing to one of the pictures. “Is that your mother, Henry? She’s kind of hot.”
Pippin’s face flushed so darkly that Chase barely recognized him. In fact, Pippin seemed more uncomfortable than she’d ever seen, which made her own skin feel too tight. He looked like he was about to blow.
Sylph interrupted her thoughts. “I haven’t been this on edge since my aptitude tests for my Star application.” She flung her braid behind her shoulder and faced Tristan, hard. “Do you have any ideas, Arrow?”
“Who, me?” Tristan asked coolly. “You’re inviting the Canadians into the conversation now? Keep this up and we’ll start feeling welcome, Sylph.”
“We’re in this together. Chase is right to get us talking strategy as a team.”
Tristan’s eyes darted toward Chase’s briefly, almost flirtingly. Her cheeks warmed like traitors, and she buried a flash of their kiss as deep as humanly possible. It wasn’t easy, but whatever had happened in the infirmary had no place in the oncoming storm.
And then there was Pippin.