Breaking Sky(24)

Chase crawled on her belly through a black night. The mud sucked her hands past the wrists with each move. She stifled grunts—her father was watching from the tower with his men, and she didn’t want him to hear.

One more hill, topped with a barbed-wire net, remained between her and the finish line. The recruits were supposed to jump it; she’d watched many times. They were supposed to expose themselves to rubber bullets, duck and dive. But she was smaller, no real muscles yet, and definitely no boobs. She scurried under the wire and crested the hill. Panic made her careless.

The barbed teeth bit into her shirt.

Explosions. They were only flash burns, but she still screamed. Her right shoulder caught, ripping a stinging line down her arm. Another blast. Another. She knew this part; the longer she took to get to the finish, the closer the explosions would get.

Mud rained and detonations illuminated the red gush from her arm…

A pounding through her room slashed her nightmare.

Pippin sprang to answer the door. A technical sergeant thrust a note in his hand and ran down the hallway.

Chase leaped from the top bunk. “A drill?” Her heart was beating to the tune of her nightmare, adrenaline kicking through her veins.

Pippin watched the sergeant sprint. “They don’t run that fast for a drill.” He unfolded the paper. “Emergency. We’ve got to get in the air.” He dropped the note and stepped into his G-suit.

Chase pulled on her own zoom bag while she tried to read the note, but it was in code followed by a set of coordinates. RIO speak. “An attack?”

“Yes.”

Her pulse was a mess as she zipped up and dug her helmet out of a pile of laundry. Within moments, they were jogging down the hall, meeting Riot and Sylph along the way.

“Drill?” Riot asked hopefully.

“Don’t think so. Those tend to feel—”

“Smoother.” Sylph cut Chase off. She was tying her hair back in a braid.

“No hard feelings,” Chase said to Sylph, startling the whole group into slowing down. “Well, we might have to fight together up there. We’re on the same side, right?”

Sylph sneered. “I won’t punch you out of the sky, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Leah…” Riot warned, but she shot him a look that silenced him. They crossed the Green at a jog but began to run when they hit the buzz of the hangar. Airmen sprinted in every direction, and several of the old jets rolled out the door and into the black sky.

“Definitely not a drill,” Pippin murmured as Kale met them by the Streakers.

“Inbound airstrike?” Chase asked. “Red drones?”

“No drones.” Kale’s voice was hoarse, probably from shouting commands. “There’s been an internal bombing. High casualties. We’re sending reinforcements, but they won’t get there fast enough. If you push it, you’ll get there with a chance.”

Chase’s anxiety was mounting. “A chance of what?”

“Of helping survivors. If there are any flight-capable birds left, lead them back here. We can’t afford to radio our position. Stay completely off the grid. Don’t even use the shortwave. And do not land.”

Sylph and Riot were already cresting the ramp stairs and sinking into Pegasus’s cockpit. Pippin slid into his seat in Dragon and strapped in.

Chase’s thoughts swirled. “General, I—”

Kale grabbed her leg and hoisted her up. She swung over the edge and into the cockpit, still unable to phrase her fear.

“Open up her speed, Harcourt,” Kale said. “This is your chance.”

? ? ?

The night was deep. Veiled stars and nothing beyond the silver streak of her bird around her. She hit Mach 3 in a hurry, knowing Sylph would fall behind. Sylph could fly as fast as Chase, but she wasn’t strong enough to hold the speed for as long.

Pippin was busy with his controls, mapping out coordinates. “Balls to blackout flying,” he complained. “Can’t sense a thing. We need to bounce our position off a satellite. We need like two seconds of radar.”

“Kale said to keep off the grid, Pippin. We’re on our own.”

“So what do we do if a commercial plane comes at us?”

“Duck.” She punched the throttle and crested past Mach 4. More than two thousand miles an hour. They had been going southeast for too long, and although she was no geographical genius like her RIO, she could tell they were headed toward the Hudson Bay. And JAFA.

“Do you think…” Chase swallowed her words. The horizon was orange, not from sunrise but from the reach of high flames. “JAFA,” she whispered. “Where’s Phoenix?”

“Maybe he didn’t get out in time,” Pippin said. “The roofs are blown outward. Must have been an inside job. Spies. That must be what Kale meant by internal bombing. Nyx, there could be bogies in the sky. I’m going to be a busy bee keeping lookout.”


“Buzz away.” Chase reined in her speed and pulled closer to the burning buildings.

Fire groped the night. The hangar was the only building not fully ablaze, but smoke poured out of broken windows. Chase couldn’t see anyone on the ground. No one fleeing or fighting the fire. Kale’s had spoken about survivors, but…

“There’s no one,” she murmured.