Breaking Sky(36)

“Cool,” Baron said.

“Not cool,” Tristan said at the same time Chase threw her pen at Baron. It connected with his stupid skull with a satisfying thwick.

Baron rubbed his head before turning a question at Kale. “But the drones can’t overtake the Streakers, right?”

Kale didn’t answer because there was no answer. No way to be sure. The U.S. had never captured a drone to chart its capabilities. Could the Streakers best one? They hoped and planned, but they sure as hell didn’t know for sure.

Chase disappeared into her memory. She had been able to fly away at Mach 4 the day she saw the drones, the fastest she’d ever flown, but she never bragged about it. That many drones could take down a Streaker, no matter how fast they could fly. If they all fired their missiles, there wouldn’t be a direction to flee in.

That’s what Pippin had said, and he was never wrong about these things.

“Cadets.” Kale cleared his throat. “Pilots. It’s important you know that a cold war only means our aggressions aren’t public. But you should all bet your military-owned butts that things are always happening: in the sky, on the ground, at sea.”

Chase could feel the heat of JAFA’s blaze on her cheeks. Tristan stared at his boots. He didn’t look like he was breathing.

“Where were you during the battle in Taiwan?” someone asked Kale.

“Still at the academy. It was my last semester.” He didn’t appear happy about the question.

“You know what though? Ri Xiong Di knows we’re serious now,” Baron said. “They got their fill a few months after Taiwan when Tourn got through with their drone base on the Philippines.”

Chase crossed her arms to restrain her fists. Of course, an idiot like Baron would be a fan of her father’s nuclear legacy.

“That bomb killed thousands of innocent Filipinos as well as destroying that fleet of red drones, Baron,” Tanner yelled. No one hated Tourn like Tanner, which had always made Chase feel on the edge of disaster when they were together. “Tourn’s nuke didn’t stop anything. They had dozens of red drone fleets waiting.”

Kale held up a hand. “Do not give General Tourn credit or blame for that bomb. He was operating under orders. That should be clear, despite the media’s delight in blaming him.”

Chief Black flicked on the lights. Chase was relieved this discussion wasn’t going to devolve into a “let’s bash Tourn” party. She appreciated that Kale had pointed out the hard truth about her father’s past. Tourn had been a young hotshot pilot back in 2020. His higher-ups commanded him to fly over the Philippines and drop a bomb.

And he did it.

Everyone at the Star knew about following orders, and yet everyone hated Tourn. It didn’t help that he had a reputation for being the absent lord of the Star—the one to hate for rules, restrictions, and leave time cuts. The one to blame.

Fault was a strong wind. She’d always felt it blowing in Tourn’s direction, but she was starting to feel it on her own skin. Did her recklessness inadvertently cause JAFA’s destruction? She glanced at Tristan. Did he blame her? As much as she didn’t want to get friendly, she had to admit they had unfinished business.

“Wonder what it was like,” Chase said, not realizing she was speaking aloud. “All those birds flying in. Outnumbered by the drones, a hundred to one.”

“I imagine it was a nightmare. And then it was over.” Kale clapped once and Chase jumped. “That fast.”

All of Tourn’s fellow pilots—his friends—had died in the sky over Taiwan that day. If he hadn’t been on leave for his mother’s funeral, he would have been up there with them. He would have been shot down. The five hundred and eightieth jet.

Then he never would have met Janice at a diner one night.

Chase swore her existence wavered like a match flame.





18


    GRAYOUT


   A Loss of Blood to the Head


“The Streakers can travel twice the speed you know.”

Chase almost tipped out of her chair. This was what she’d been waiting for since the moment the French Canadian engineer had appeared.

Dr. Adrien kept talking, but Chase was too busy thrusting her hand in the air, waiting to be called on. The elderly engineer didn’t notice. She stood before a massive metal tube that looked like a gun scope with a grated vent at one end. The machine was so large that Chase could have walked through it.

The Streaker teams had been taken out of their usual classes for a special session. Chase couldn’t help noticing that they were a dysfunctional group. Pippin scribbled, Riot ignored Streaker Team Phoenix, and Sylph shunned the whole room like she’d been elevated to a superior rank.

Chase waved her arm, leaning too far over the flip-top desk and dropping her notebook to the floor. The noise caught Adrien’s attention, and Chase didn’t hesitate. “How fast?”


“The speed is restricted to the pilot’s ability to withstand intensely high G-force,” Adrien said. Riot scrambled to pick up Chase’s notebook, knocking heads with Tristan who had also leaned over to help. Tristan graciously handed Riot Chase’s pen and—did Chase imagine it?—Riot growled at him.

That sealed it. Boys really were subpar humans.