“The trials will be as expected,” Romeo said. “What we need to worry about is being punched out of a cargo plane tomorrow. We’re going to test the already sketchy ejection system, and let me remind you that Adrien is not exactly confident about it.”
“They won’t send us up without some assurance that it’ll work,” Chase said.
Tristan and Romeo exchanged glances. “Adrien won’t risk our lives, but…”
“But?” Riot leaned in. “But is not the word I want to hear in that sentence.”
“But she’s being pressured by General Dickhead Tourn,” Romeo said. “He’s the one that’ll get us killed. Not like he’s concerned with human life.”
Chase stared down. She didn’t want to know if Tristan or Pippin was looking at her. They should be; it was her fault. She’d long since suspected that her involvement in the Streaker project kept Tourn invested. Kale had even told her that her dad kept tabs on her flying. For the first time, she wondered if that was proof he really did give a damn.
“General Dickhead is his official title,” she said because the group was too quiet.
Sylph crossed her legs, and Romeo stared at them. “So how are we going to dazzle the government board?”
Pippin made a dismissive sound, and Chase glared his way before talking over his objection. “Sylph’s right.”
Riot’s eyes got a little big. “Now they both agree with each other. Anyone else feel like we’re entering dangerous territory?”
“I do,” Pippin said. “I don’t trust them working together.”
“Pippin.” Chase’s eyes were on his fast and hard. “We have to trust each other.”
“Even if some of us are harboring secrets?” His words jabbed.
The room went extra quiet.
“Don’t,” Chase managed. Pippin looked away, his face blotching red.
“Okay. That was awkward.” Sylph cleared her throat. “Listen. I say we set up drills that show off all our strengths. We make each other look good. What do the Canadians think?”
Tristan took the edge of the bunk in one tight fist. “I think I’m still not over the fact that we’re friends, especially after your stunt yesterday that almost cost Chase and Henry their lives.” Tristan left the room so fast. Romeo followed his pilot.
“What is wrong with them?” Sylph asked. “Nyx pulls a thousand stunts, and I do one and look at everyone freak out at me.”
Pippin’s expression was still too dark. “Nyx gets special allowances because of her daddy.”
Chase’s heart flew into action. “Pippin!”
He wouldn’t look at her. “Papa Kale lets her get away with everything,” he added as a lame cover-up.
Sylph looked pleased. “This is true.”
But Pippin had meant Tourn. He’d lashed out at Chase in her most vulnerable spot.
“Fuck you, Henry,” she said, her voice low and mean.
“Whoa. Guys.” Riot whistled. “Let’s chill.”
Sylph stood between them. “I’ve never seen you two go at it before. Now’s not the time. Make up.” She grabbed Pippin by the back of his shirt and hauled him to his feet like she was going to force them to hug. He yanked away from her, threw a crumpled piece of paper on his bed, and left.
The door slammed, and the moment ticked between them like a countdown.
Sylph’s eyes were huge. “Nyx. You can’t fly if you can’t talk to each other.”
“I realize that.”
“So go make up with him.”
Chase rubbed her face. “I’m trying. He doesn’t want to make up.”
“But aren’t you two like mirrored souls or something?” Riot asked.
“Don’t you have trouble with mirrors, Riot?” Chase snapped back.
“Hey.” Sylph smacked Chase on the cheek and not lightly.
“Leave,” Chase said, rubbing her smarting face. “I have to think.”
Sylph and Riot left, and Chase sat on Pippin’s bed. Sylph was right. There was no way they could survive the trials if they couldn’t be in the same room, let alone the same cockpit. She picked up the piece of paper and smoothed it out. It was the picture of Pippin’s mother.
“Mirrored souls,” she muttered. She remembered the spiderweb smash across the glass in the boys’ locker room after Riot took his fist to it. The shards crunching on the tile underfoot, glittery and knifelike…
Chase collapsed on the bed. If they were mirrored souls, one of them was broken. But which one? Or were they a complementing pair of cracks?
Maybe they always had been.
? ? ?
Chase didn’t last long on her own. Her thoughts ran heavy and sluggish, and she soon found herself racing for the rec room, hoping to run into Tristan. Pippin’s crush be damned; she needed to talk with the one person at the Star who wasn’t currently driving her mad.
A Ping-Pong tournament was the main event. Cadets surrounded the game, hollering at the two fairly advanced players. Chase envied their laid-back enjoyment. They had no idea that over the next few days the whole Star was going to be secretly overrun with officers and government officials.
She found Tristan on the far side of the room, flying the jet simulator game. Wonder of all, he was alone.
The flight simulator consoles were wedged into the darkest corner of the rec room, complete with oversized pilot chairs and a massive view screen. Chase stood behind him, enjoying the zip of his flying. It made little sense, but just being near him made this whole crazed situation a little straighter in her thoughts.
“I can feel you watching me,” he said after a minute.
She sat in the adjacent chair and picked up a controller. She talked fast and messy. “So. Giving Sylph a taste of what she deals out? That’s gutsy. She won’t put up with it for long. This is her academy.”
Chase logged on to the simulator to avoid the sudden awkwardness, and her fake jet dipped through a ruined city. She steered toward the coastline, firing a missile at a large dock. It plopped into the ocean, and she swore. “Would you please show me why I can’t figure this out?”