“Hey there,” he said when she pulled away. “Good morning to you.”
The knock came again, and Chase jumped. “Someone knows we’re in here.”
“I can hear you, dumbasses.” Sylph’s voice shot through the thick glass. “Open up.”
Chase struggled to fix her uniform while Tristan hit the release. The cockpit opened, and Sylph glared down from the top of the ramp stairs.
“Let me guess. It’s not what it looks like.”
Tristan glanced at Chase in a way that made her heart dive.
“It pretty much is,” Chase said.
Sylph grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the cockpit. “Everyone is heading down here in twenty minutes. I’ve already seen the government board members.” The tall blonde shuddered. “You two need to get your butts in your zoom bags.”
Tristan and Chase split directions at a sprint before they said good-bye.
Chase was halfway to the Green when she ran into Pippin. He had her G-suit and helmet. She began to dress behind an old drone covered by a tarp while Pippin played lookout.
“I think your night went better than mine,” he said. “But tell me you didn’t sleep in the cockpit. Just thinking about that makes me feel smooshed.”
Chase stuck her head out from behind the tarp. “It was so smooshed and so worth it.”
Pippin gave her a quirk of a smile. “You’re in love, so I’ll allow that one.”
“How gracious.” She finished zipping up, tucked her helmet under her arm, and stepped out. They started walking back toward the Streakers, where they were supposed to meet everyone. “Sylph said she already saw the board.”
“I did too. A whole series of deep frowners, and your father is their king.”
“What else is new?”
“I told Romeo I’m gay.”
“You did?” She found herself choosing her words as if they were steps on uneven ground. “And it went…okay?”
“He immediately began to select boys for me from the crowd in the rec room.” He gave her an exhausted but amused look. “So, yes. It went okay.”
“That really is an inexact word.”
“Multipurpose.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “But I feel like I’ve turned a corner, you know? Maybe I’ll reinvent myself in the public eye. The Air Force is big enough for one super gay RIO, you think?”
“I highly suspect you’re not the only one.”
“Maybe I’ll start a club.”
Chase and Pippin locked eyes. It was too funny. Too surreal. They burst out laughing.
They turned the corner around a C-130 Hercules and found everyone waiting.
? ? ?
A fistful of moments later, the Streaker teams stood at attention before a host: the government board, Adrien, Lance Howard Tourn, Brigadier General Kale, and a dozen higher-ups from both the American and Royal Canadian air forces—and just for giggles apparently, Dr. Ritz.
Chase gave Crackers a wink when she caught the woman looking her way. Ritz’s expression bugged out, and Chase had trouble holding down a snicker. Man, she’d love to let the psychiatrist know about the latest turn in her love life. A memory of the previous night poured all over her until she felt liquid hot inside, and she was unable to stop herself from glancing at Tristan. The boy got better looking every time she saw him.
Chase pulled back to reality against her will, forcing herself to assess the people who were deciding the fate of the Streakers. The government board was made up of four women and three men—all wearing tight, appraising expressions. Lance Howard Tourn seemed to hover over them like a smoke cloud as they conferred with the leader of the group, a man with coffee-colored skin named Mr. Archmen.
“He’s so important, he’s plural,” Pippin whispered after the introductions. Chase hid her smile in the tightness of her mouth.
Tourn didn’t seem to see Chase or anyone else as he began to lecture, keeping his eyes on the Streakers as though they were his real audience. His growl of a voice wasn’t as deep in person as it had been over the conference room video line, but his choice of words was familiarly cold. He spoke of the importance of rebuilding the Air Force and of each and every piece of airpower. He said that the U.S. was a nation founded on these sorts of days. The sorts of days that changed everything.
Tourn concluded by bringing up the afternoon when the U.S. lost five hundred and seventy-nine fighter jets in the skies over Taiwan. She wondered if he’d get choked up while remembering all his friends who had died. He didn’t. But he added that this day’s success would make up for that tragedy.
“So no pressure, guys,” Tristan whispered down the line of cadets. Chase slipped on a smirk while Romeo whispered something in French. Sylph hissed a hush sound that made Kale look over all of them with a parental eye.
Mr. Archmen stepped forward next. He examined the line of cadets long enough for Chase to notice that he took an extra few seconds on her, searching her face for the Tourn family resemblance, no doubt. He turned away disappointed, and Chase was happy for the first time in her life that she was practically a carbon copy of Janice.
Archmen presented interactive tablets to the representatives, Kale, and Tourn, including a syllabus of the trials split into three subjects: speed, maneuverability, and combat. Chase tried to focus on the rundown, but Archmen was purposefully vague. What kind of combat? Did they expect her to dogfight with Tristan or Sylph? Fire simulated weapons at each other?
No.
Their weapons weren’t fake. Kale had told them only two days ago they would be flying hot. Whatever playfulness she’d gleaned from being with Tristan and joking with Pippin was beginning to leave her. Why wouldn’t they tell the teams what the trials entailed?