Breaking Sky(17)

Chase held his gaze and shook his hand.

His leather gloves gripped hers, tugging all the way to her backbone as he hauled her a step closer. His eyes reminded her of the sky at high altitudes. No. It was more like that glint of blue in the bottom of a flame.

“Nice to meet you, Chase Harcourt.” He said her name with authority, like he’d said it many times before.

Her shock came with a stomach plunge. “How do you know who I am?”

“You kidding me?” His smile returned. Brash and brilliant. “I’ve been dying to meet Nyx for years.”

What?

They were pushed apart before she could stutter a response. The crowd of Royal Canadian airmen had reached the two Streakers, and Chase was all but wrestled back to her jet.

The sky dimmed as the ground crew rolled out a huge camouflage canopy to cover up Dragon while they immediately changed her tires and pumped her full of fuel from a truck. Chase marveled at the crowd’s swiftness. By the time she looked back to Arrow, he was being escorted toward Phoenix.

He popped his helmet on and threw a smirk at her that made her want to flick him off.

So she did.

And he mock-saluted.

An officer with a white mustache got in her face, herding her toward ramp stairs that had been rolled up to Dragon’s cockpit. He spoke through the dense fug of coffee breath. “You are to fly back to the Star. Immediately.”

“You can’t give me orders,” Chase said, a little dazed by the speed with which everything was changing. Phoenix’s canopy was down, and Arrow was rolling toward the hangar at a solid clip. Would she ever see him again? She told herself she didn’t care.

The officer thrust a piece of paper into Chase’s hand. “These orders aren’t from me. They’re from Brigadier General Kale.”

She looked down at the note, and her whole body tensed.

Home now. You face expulsion.





9


    TURBULENCE


   Feel It; Don’t Fight It


Chase couldn’t sit down. She swept through Kale’s office, touching the waxy-leafed plants and fingering the bowl of old bullets.

Expulsion. The word was a vicious crosswind, tossing her from question to question. Why did the Canadians have a Streaker? Why did Arrow know her name? And more importantly, would Kale make her leave?

She had nowhere to go. He knew that; he’d met Janice.

Chase knew she was in the wrong. She’d broken orders, engaged Phoenix, and set down outside of the Star. All things she could rightly get expelled for, but everyone was acting like the situation was worse. Like war had been declared. When Dragon slid into its spot in the hangar, Kale and a number of senior officers had been waiting. Kale took Pippin by the elbow in one direction while an MP escorted Chase to the brigadier general’s office.

To wait forever, apparently.

She’d been there for over two hours with nothing to go on except her worst thoughts. The MP guarded the door the whole time, making sure she stayed put but otherwise refraining from giving her a single answer. She’d already nicknamed him Sergeant Pillar Face.

Chase tossed herself into her favorite leather chair and balled the small piece of paper with Kale’s message on it. That note, in and of itself, was a huge question. What was Kale doing in contact with the Royal Canadian Air Force? What huge secret had she stumbled upon?

Pippin had brought up the Declaration of No Assistance, but that felt more uncomfortable than ominous. Ri Xiong Di had hundreds of declarations, but most of them were empty threats. This one was about countries aiding the U.S.—Chase paid attention long enough in history class to know that much—but could Ri Xiong Di really be pissed about her landing in Canada for ten minutes? That did not constitute “aid.”

Chase remembered the story of a British cargo fleet that had tried to fly in medicine during an influenza outbreak years back. Those birds had been hacked and crashed kamikaze-style into the Atlantic by Ri Xiong Di. Now that was the Declaration of No Assistance. She shivered, her body near exhaustion from flying. Her face and neck were covered in dried sweat, and she itched all over. Something bigger was going on, and it had everything to do with Phoenix and that pilot.

Arrow. His call sign was too simple. Too straightforward. It was too good, that’s what it was. He had been so smug about saying her name. How in the blazes did he know her?

“Chase Harcourt?”

Oh no. Chase had been waiting for Kale. Not Crackers.

Dr. Ritz walked in and sat behind Kale’s desk. “Brigadier General David Kale asked me to check in on you.”

“So I’m not the only person you go full title on,” she muttered.

“What was that?” Ritz asked.

“I said, ‘Great to see you!’”

Ritz touched the corner of her glasses. “I know you’re under a lot of pressure. The trials in January are important.”

“Dive right in, why don’t you.” When she didn’t respond, Chase added, “No, really?”

“More than you seem to understand. What you did today was appalling. The Canadians might not have manpower equal to the Star, but JAFA is just as essential to eventual victory.”

“Jaff what?”

“The Royal Canadian Junior Air Force Academy. JAFA.”

Chase popped her knuckles. “Didn’t know its name. So wait, if you know about it, tell me why they have a Streaker.”