Breaking Sky (19 page)

“Our older jets are at Alert 15, but they're too likely to be wirelessly overridden. Ri Xiong Di would delight in turning our own birds against us for the show alone.”

Riot stood forward. “Screw the trials. Let's launch the Streakers at them now.”

Kale held up a hand. “It's never that simple. The trials will be two days from now, and they're more important than ever. I know it doesn't seem this way, but we're lucky. They've sent us a warning, but they haven't acted. We have to hope they don't act before we're ready.”

Pippin stood up from where he'd sat on the floor. “Of course they'll act before we're ready. That's what they do. Intercept. Prevent. Thwart. They've been knocking our knees out every step of the way for decades. That's how they stay on top.”

Kale nodded as though he was only half-listening. The muted threat continued behind him, the red flag almost vibrating with brightness. “Things are coming to a head. I…there are things the government would like to keep from you, but I don't agree. Maybe it'll cost me my job, but we know Ri Xiong Di wants a Streaker more than anything. The spy network is abuzz about it. Every time you go up, you need to worry about that. We're going to keep you as far from their territory as possible, but still, be aware that you're—for lack of a better phrase—being hunted.”

The room crashed into silence.

“Those dummy missiles you've been flying with…they're being swapped out for active ones as we speak. You're flying hot from now on.”

Chase pushed against Tristan a little more. She had imagined flying hot, but now that it was happening, she couldn't believe it. Active missiles under her wings?
Active
?

The only sound was Riot breathing too hard while Sylph rubbed his back in tight circles. Kale flipped off the television. The room dimmed without the blaring red.

“Inconsiderate a-holes,” Sylph muttered. “The least they could do is subtitle that shit for us.”

Romeo forced a snicker, but Chase couldn't feel the humor. Terror was on the horizon, and it was more than losing
Dragon
or facing Tourn. It was the pursuit of world war. She could feel it like a trailing missile, already fired.

Heat-seeking.

Inevitable.

The next morning, the Streaker teams were scheduled for full physicals to clear them for the trials. Chase dragged herself through breakfast, her stomach remaining empty.

She'd also dodged Pippin, not wanting to hash out what was still bothering her when they had supposedly made up. She had to pretend like everything was all right. They had to get through the trials, and then? Find a way to face Ri Xiong Di.

“You all right?” Tristan asked when they met at the door to the infirmary.

“Not looking forward to being poked and prodded,” she said. “And I'm a little…you know?”

“Yeah.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, but his fingers tickled the back of her neck. She grabbed his thumb and flipped it behind his back, but that only brought her chest against him, his other hand reaching behind for her waist.

Pippin turned the corner to witness, and he gave Chase a look that made her feel like she'd done wrong. He was getting too good at judging.

“I need a word with my RIO,” she told Tristan.

“Course.” He cast a quick glance at Pippin and turned into the infirmary.

Pippin leaned against the wall. “Looks like things are going well with Cadet All-Shoulders and Flowing Mane.”

“No,” she said. “I turned him down last night. You'd have been proud.”

Pippin laughed. “You thought I'd be proud that you've been making out with people you barely tolerate for years, and the one time you have real feelings, you manage to abandon them? No, Chase. I'm not proud of you.”

“I already know what you think of my love life.” She crossed her arms tight. “But you know what, yours doesn't shine that much brighter, does it?” She waited, but like his affectionate quirk, his comebacks were MIA. “I want to help you, but first, quit lashing out at me, will you?”

“Help?” One of Pippin's hands flew to his chest, his fingers drumming an about-to-lose-my-temper beat. “How is it that you're planning to help again?”

Sylph and Riot turned the corner, catching Pippin's glare and the tail end of their heated words.

“Get along now,” Riot said. “We've got to save the world tomorrow.”

Sylph hauled him into the infirmary before he could say anything else.

Through the awkwardness that followed, Chase looked over Pippin. He'd been an acne victim when he arrived at the Star, but his face was now clear except for the temples. She was surprised to realize he was combing his hair a little differently. Maybe taking more time with his shaving too. She was even more surprised to find tears in the corners of her eyes.

“You should try truth, Pippin. You think people know about you, but that's different than being out. Being open.” The idea seemed even better when she said it. “Being honest worked with Tristan. I've been talking to him about Tourn, and it makes me trust him—”

“You've been talking to Tristan about your father?” Pippin sprang from no emotion to radiating. “That's perfect. Tell him everything. Even though I've been here from day one, supporting you, keeping your secret. Like one of your lovesick tailers.”

“You know you're not like that.”

“Then don't treat me like one!” Pippin slammed into the infirmary.

Before Chase could get herself together, Romeo sauntered around the corner. “Pretty lady at twelve o'clock,” he declared. “Want to find a quiet place and get busy?”

Chase caught him by the arm and shoved him against the wall. “You always have to talk like that? To everyone? Don't you ever worry about leading someone on?”

“It's my natural state of irresistible.” He looked at the way she was holding on to him. “Are we going to kiss? Because I will get decked by my pilot. Not that it wouldn't be worth it.”

She let go. “If one of us had a crush on you, would you want to know?”

Romeo looked delighted. “Of course.”

“And it'd change your behavior? Make you act like a human around that…person?”

He held up his palm like he was taking an oath. “I'd be the perfect gentleman.
Je
jure.
” He dropped his hand. “So are we going to make out? No? Were you talking about Sylph? It's Sylph, isn't it? Come on. Tell me quick.”

Chase left him spinning out in the hall.

• • •

The cadets sat around a too-white bed next to a curtained-off section. The doctor was seeing them one at a time behind the white sheet, which meant entirely too much waiting.

It was painfully quiet. Chase thought it had to do with the fact that the threat from Ri Xiong Di had spread through the Star, and everyone was incapable of talking about anything else. She tried to convince herself it wasn't because the Streaker teams knew she was still fighting with Pippin.

Tristan sat on the bed with his back to Chase, and she turned, pleased when he leaned his shoulder into hers. Sylph lounged across the foot of the mattress. Riot was being seen first, and they heard him yelp from behind a curtain.

“Nut-sack inspection,” Romeo joked. No one laughed. He checked his watch. “Twenty-three hours. Less than a day.”

“If you do that again,” Sylph said evenly, “I'm going to break your arm.”

Romeo raised his eyebrows but said nothing. Pippin shuffled his feet against the floor from his chair at the far end of the room.
Pretending
, Chase thought. He was always pretending to be someone he wasn't—or holding back, which amounted to the same thing. It made her ache for her RIO. She knew what it was like to have a secret hovering over every moment of every day. Wouldn't it be better if he came out?

Would it be better if Chase told everyone about her dad?

Romeo pushed closer to her, interrupting her thoughts. “I can't wait, Nyxy. Tell me. Who is it?”

Chase glared. “Shut up, Romeo.”

“What're you talking about?” Sylph demanded.

“Chase says one of you has a crush on me.” He looked from Chase to Sylph. “Either way, I think I win.”

Pippin's face was scarlet. His hand tapped a thunderous beat on his leg.

“That's not what I was saying,” Chase tried. “I was only thinking that we should, you know, be open with each other. Learn to trust each other.”

Sylph squinted fiercely. “About what exactly?” She was obviously thinking of Liam, her airman boyfriend. Chase had the distinct feeling she was about to get slugged by more than one person in the room.

Tristan turned on the bed, a warning look in his eyes. “What are you doing, Chase?”

“Yeah, Nyx,” Pippin said, his voice too smooth. “What are you doing?”

“I—” Chase broke off as a staff sergeant barreled into the room. He thrust a piece of paper in her hand and left. She opened the folded note and read the message twice.

Bad news.

“What is that?” Sylph snapped. “You look like you just read that you're on the Down List.
Are
you on the Down List?” She glanced at Pippin. “This is because you two can't stop snapping at each other.”

“No, it's from Kale,” Chase said. “About General Tourn.” She should have lied, but she was too stunned. “He's arrived on base.”

“So?” Sylph fished. “That doesn't change anything. Why would Kale tell you that?”

Chase's heartbeat took off without her. She looked around dazedly.

“Why would you need to know about General Dickhead?” Romeo asked.

Riot pulled the curtain back, rubbing a spot on his arm where he had gotten a shot. “Pippin, you're up.” He paused to take in the weird quiet in the room. “What's happening?”

“Nyx got a note from Kale about General Tourn,” Sylph said.

“It's nothing,” Chase tried, but she saw Pippin sit forward.

“Tell the truth,” Pippin said, his voice cold. “Be open so we can all trust you. Like
you
suggested.”

“Henry,” Tristan warned.

“Tell me what's happening,” Sylph commanded.

“Fine.” Chase stared at Pippin, and the truth scraped as it left her throat. “Kale wanted me to know because Tourn is my father.”

The silence was like flying into a cloud. All white. No sign of the world for a solid minute.

“You told me you were an orphan,” Riot said finally.

“Wait.
Tourn
?” Sylph asked. “The murderer of the Philippines? He's like a hundred years old.”

“He's in his fifties,” Chase said, finding it bizarre that the first thing they'd be discussing was Tourn's age. Weren't they appalled? Angry with her?

Romeo swore in French, while Pippin looked disappointed. He left for his physical without another word. Chase made a quiet, strangled sound at his back. Pippin didn't know what the rest of the note said. She had to tell him.

In the meantime, Sylph launched an interrogation. Chase answered truthfully, all the while feeling like she was being emptied with each confession. No, she didn't know Tourn well. No, she didn't like him. No, she didn't know how he felt about having dropped the nuke.

Tristan's hand slid across the white sheet and held on to hers. He had to stop doing that. She was starting to like it too much.

“Well,” Sylph concluded after her questions ran dry. “Sucks to be you.”

• • •

Kale's note was a brick in her pocket. Chase could think of little else. Not only was her father there—at the Star—but he'd requested to meet her in the hangar. ASAP. She went through her physical absently, barely even jerking when the medic stabbed her in the arm to take blood.

When she stepped into the blaring fluorescent light in the hallway, Tristan was leaning against the wall with Romeo. Waiting for her. “Where's Pippin?” she asked.

“He took off,” Romeo said. “He seemed pretty hostile.”

“But…” Her voice ran out of fuel. “Romeo, do you think you could find him and tell him I have to meet my dad in the hangar?”

“Do you want me to tell him to meet you?”

Yes.

“No.” She couldn't keep the hurt out of her tone. “He's probably too busy being pissed at the world. I just…want him to know.” Chase began the long walk, making excuses when Tristan tried to follow her. She had to do this alone—well, Pippin was the only one she wanted with her, and he was gone.

Truth was, even if they'd been fighting for a year, she'd still want Pippin there above everyone else. She didn't have to tell him why her father haunted her for Pippin to know that he did. He knew. That's what was so strange about them. They knew the deepest things about each other without ever having the details. They just knew.

Chase met her father beneath
Dragon
. Tourn had his hand on her wing, and it just about made her growl. Her pulse, which had grown erratic in the buildup to seeing him, began to chill. He was the same as five years ago. The same as the view screen images in the conference room. Clipped gray hair and overly round forearms. A uniform pressed so sharply that it felt like a plastic mold he had been poured into.

For a long moment, she watched him examine the engine bay and fiddle with the landing gear. She recognized a pattern to his searching; he was performing preflight checks. It made her remember that he was a pilot.
The
pilot.

He turned around, and she clipped her hand to her forehead, strictly out of habit.

Tourn saluted back. “At ease.” He took too long to speak. Long enough for Chase to remember she wasn't the only one who had no idea what to do with their biological relationship.

“General Tourn?” she finally said. “You requested my presence.”

“Surprised you, didn't it?”

She didn't answer. Was he
trying
to surprise her? If so, why?

“It's been a long time,” he added. Boy, this was going nowhere fast. Tourn felt it too. He started talking. At her. “When I first saw the specs for these birds, I thought it was a joke. HOTAS control? Manual navigation from a backseat RIO? Ridiculous.”

Chase wasn't amused. She knew the Streakers were an odd mix of old-school design and killer engines, but that was why she loved them. Tourn appeared to appreciate them despite these qualities. The term
essential
differences
, one of Kale's favorites, sprang to mind.

“Then I saw these birds in the air. Unbelievable.” He looked like he was waiting for her to say something. She didn't. He touched the missiles beneath
Dragon
's wings. “I flew with these type of sidewinders once. Aim left of center, no matter what the target reader says.”

“Excuse me?” Was he really giving her tactical advice?

“I've been watching your tapes, cadet. You've got a gutsy streak. It works for you, but you need to remember to listen to your wingmen. You surprise the enemy—that's good. Surprise your wingmen, and you might cost them their lives. Understood?”

“Yes, General Tourn.” So this was just a standard maverick pep talk. Great.

“You're ready,” he added with a grunt.

Ready?
Chase choked on that word the second it came out of his mouth. A jet fired up somewhere nearby, and the whole hangar turned into a mess of sound for long minutes. When it had left through the great rolling doors, Chase and her father still faced each other. She didn't see herself in his watery blue gaze or the harshness of his features. She didn't feel any resemblance to his calculating heart.

They were the real strangers.

“So you think you know so much about me because you know my flying?” It was exactly the kind of petulant thing she didn't want to say. It would lead down a negative road. Remind her that she wasn't a person to him. She was a pilot. A cadet. A cog he'd put into the machine.

Chase was supposed to be at ease, but her whole body was so tense that if she had fallen over, she would have smashed like a pane of glass. She felt like that was going to happen at any minute. At the next word maybe.