Breaking Sky(35)

“What are we going to watch today, Chief Black?” Baron, the Star’s token idiot, yelled. “More Soviet MiGs? They were fun.”

A few people laughed, but the chief ignored them as the screen turned a solid blue-green, what the ocean looked like from the onboard cameras beneath a wing.

Chase felt a chill she couldn’t place.

“Today we’re watching Taiwan in 2020,” Black finally said.

The flyboys went mute; the room deadened. The Battle of Taiwanese Independence could do that—strike a whole room of jock pilots into silence. After all, it was the most infamous dogfight in the history of military aviation.

Chief Black cleared his throat. “On January 21, 2020, Taiwan declared independence from China without the support of Ri Xiong Di.”

Several people booed, but Chase wasn’t among them. Neither was Tristan.

He leaned across the seats between them with a whisper. “Ri Xiong Di translates to ‘sun brothers.’ It’s supposed to imply divine right.”

“I know. I went to elementary school,” she returned. “Nice flat-hatting, Arrow.” He leaned back with that annoyed yet engaged look that she actually enjoyed seeing on his face.

The chief continued. “On January 26, the U.S. stepped up to help Taiwan defend its freedom.”

“The day of my grandmother’s funeral,” Chase said absently.

“What?” Tristan asked.

The video began, and no one could look away. Fighter jets flew in packs, the view switching between multiple onboard cameras. It felt like thousands of birds, but Chase knew from her history class that there were five hundred and seventy-nine fighter jets in that sky and eight hundred and twelve U.S. drones.

Chase’s heart started to pound.

The distant horizon showed smoke above the tiny island of Taiwan, while from the south, a scarlet cloud appeared. The jets attempted maneuver after maneuver as the dogfight commenced. There was no sound, but Chase could hear the pilots like a nightmare looping through her thoughts. They were all calling Mayday. All asking what was happening.

All cursing prayers to an absent God.

In flashes that felt too closely edited, the tape proved what had happened in the sky that day: a complete loss. A mess of explosions and the swirl of crashing jets. The blue-green sea peppered with sinking, smoking heaps of American metal.

Chase’s whole body hurt from gripping the armrests.

The screen went black, and her eyes found new focus on Kale’s silhouette beneath the red glow of the emergency exit light. She hadn’t seen him come in.

“You might be wondering why we’re watching this tape,” Kale said, walking toward the center of the room.

Someone sniffled. Chase was shocked to see Sylph off to the side, wiping tears. So the girl did feel things.

“We’re watching this to remind you that although you are safe at the Star, no one is truly safe while we are at the mercy of Ri Xiong Di’s control. Should they appear in our sky tomorrow, we would have to surrender. We would be absorbed into the New Eastern Bloc’s empire. The only reason it hasn’t happened already is that they’re still more focused on Europe, but…the hourglass is turned. We are all on a clock. This is why the military is experimenting with new defenses. New offenses.”

“The Streakers,” Baron threw in.

“Yes, and there are other attempts to fortify our borders. The Navy is developing new submarines while the Marines train for large-scale domestic defense. Everyone is preparing.” He sat on the front of the stage before the screen, his hands folded in his lap. “Only three of you here fly Streakers right now, but you’re all pilots. Someday soon, if the trials are successful, you’ll all be flying Streakers. You’ll all be facing red drones. What I want to ask you today is if you feel prepared.”

No one answered.

Sylph’s hand went up after a long moment. Her voice was wired. “Tell me why they didn’t retreat. All those fighters just went after the red drones. It was suicide.”

Kale checked the room. He found Chase. “Does anyone have an answer?”

Tristan spoke up. “The U.S. had never seen the drones before. The fleet snuck up from the Philippines, unveiling their superior speed, firepower, and maneuverability.”

“Boola-boola,” Baron tried to joke. Chase wanted to pummel him, but someone got there first. He yelped.

“Boola-boola?” Kale looked pained. “No pilot has ever been able to take down a red drone. Not one. None of our pilots survived that day. Those drones don’t just aim for a jet. Their missiles lock on the cockpit, not the wings or engines.”

“They’re pilot-killing machines,” Sylph said.

The room died once again.

“Nyx has seen the drones and lived to get away,” Tanner said, turning in his seat to face her. His pride made her more uncomfortable than the general conversation. “Tell them.”

Chase looked from Kale to the span of eyes in the crowd. “Wasps,” she said. “I got too close to the d-line a few months back.”

“What was it like?”

“Like nothing else mattered.” Remembering them thrilled Chase, and not in a good way.

“Like we’re already at war,” Tristan added. Chase could tell by his tone that he’d seen them too. She fought the sudden urge to grab his sleeve like she’d done in the hallway before the debriefing.