“This will change everything,” Riot said. “A whole fleet of drones downed by one Streaker. They can’t not take that seriously.”
Chase’s eyes stung with tears and her mind filled with images of Pippin. Of what he would have said in this moment. “Hobbits against Sauron. Am I right?”
“What the hell does that mean?” Riot asked.
“Indeed.”
Somewhere over Alaska, Chase lapped Phoenix. Tristan took too long to be refueled and was now flying very, very slowly. Chase worried about the way his wings tilted—not in the cocky way she enjoyed. He was losing altitude and speed.
They weren’t done yet.
Chase pulled Pegasus up beneath Phoenix, using her wing to ever so lightly lift his.
“How about a race, Arrow?”
She heard his breath over the radio, cool and growly. “On three,” she said, but he pushed forward before she could count. She threw the throttle forward, catching up easily but holding back so he could keep a lead.
“Don’t.” Tristan’s voice was a whisper. “Go easy. On me. Nyx.”
She’d forgotten he always did his best when he was chasing her. She shot below him, crossing the icy water that led to Banks Island. He kept after her in a way that breezed right into her heart.
They were almost home.
When they reached the apron, Tristan landed in a spin, tilting the whole Streaker onto its side and bending its wing. Chase put down next to him. She was out in a shot, followed by Riot. Phoenix’s cockpit could only open halfway on its side, and Romeo struggled out.
Tristan hadn’t moved.
“Whipped his head bad when we tipped just now. Knocked him out, I think,” Romeo said. He jerked Tristan’s helmet off before she could warn him to be careful. Tristan looked dead. His skin was white and tight, and he’d burst a few blood vessels near his eyes.
A loud pop startled them, and Phoenix began to pump smoke.
No, no, no, Chase thought wildly. She struggled to lift him out of his seat, but she wasn’t strong enough.
“Pippin!” Chase called out. “Help me!”
When she realized what she’d said, she froze in the smacking-cold air. Romeo’s look was blank, and Riot moved forward like he might try to hug her. “Together!” she barked, and all three of them rushed forward. She counted down, and they hauled him free of the cockpit.
His body sprung free in a rush, coming down on top of Chase. Pain erupted all over her back as the air rushed from her lungs. She struggled for a few breaths without letting him go.
Now they had done it.
The emergency teams rushed out of the hangar amid their sirens and colored lights. They would be there within a moment. She gripped Tristan and told herself he was going to be okay, and then she told him the same.
Streaks of green blurred the navy sky. The northern lights danced above like her very own victory parade, and she kept her eyes on them for so long that when the medics pulled Tristan off, they thought she had passed out.
“I’m good.” She waved them away. Riot helped her to her feet while the medics strapped Tristan to a stretcher. One of them listened to his heart, nodded to the others, and said one word.
“Stable.”
Chase’s tears froze to her cheeks in the blustering cold. The medics ran Tristan back to the hangar while Romeo tried to run with him, limping from exhaustion. She thought she saw him grip Tristan’s hand.
She hadn’t noticed Romeo’s loyalty before. Maybe that’s what Pippin had seen in him. After all, Pippin was the best at sensing people’s hidden centers. She only wished that hadn’t been because he’d spent years keeping his own heart a secret. Chase had always wished she knew more about Pippin. And now she knew she’d keep wishing that her whole life.
The bright square of the open hangar door seemed like an embrace waiting. Kale stood in the middle of the light. Chase could have recognized his silhouette from the clouds.
She ran toward him.
42
KICK THE TIRES, LIGHT THE FIRES
Let’s Go
Sunlight leaned into Chase’s room through her small window, bringing with it baby blue skies and hints of green life beneath the melting rivers on Banks Island.
Chase was bent over her political science textbook. She jotted notes and then rubbed her hands through her short hair. Tomorrow, her poli-sci teacher wouldn’t be able to ask a question that she didn’t know. That was satisfying in a new and surprising way.
“Kale wants us in the hangar ASAP,” Sylph said from her door.
Chase glanced at the time and swore. She got up, zipping the rest of her flight suit and groaning as her spine popped as fluidly as her knuckles. It had been five months since she had faced off with the red drones, but she sometimes felt like she had aged ninety years in that heartbeat of a day.
“Where’s the girl?” Sylph asked.
“Are we supposed to bring our RIOs? I thought it was just pilots.”
“It is. I want to see if she’s gotten my laundry done.”
“Sylph.”
“What? Starling wants to prove herself. Heaven forbid I stand in the way.”
“Heaven forbid you don’t benefit,” Chase said just as Lin, call sign Starling, entered their room. The tiny yet solid girl balanced a mountainous pile of laundry, bending in ways that only a gymnast’s body could get away with.
“Oh, hi, Sylph!” Lin said. “I’ll have your clothes in your room in a few minutes.”
“Don’t forget to fold,” Sylph said to Starling. “Be in the hangar in five, Nyx.”
Chase shot a look at Sylph that made the tall girl blow a kiss sarcastically. Sylph really was learning how to be human. Maybe it was the intense chaos following the trials or just the fact that Sylph was attempting to be sociable—either way, Chase had to admit she enjoyed the perks of the girl’s transformation. Sometimes it felt like they were becoming friends. Maybe friend-like was more accurate.
Starling watched Sylph go, awe in her expression.