Breaking Sky(37)

Chase stole her things from Riot and turned her attention back to the lab-coated engineer.

“In short,” Adrien continued through her strong French-Canadian accent, “how fast you can stand is how fast they will go.” She walked to the larger end of the machine and opened a narrow door. Inside, Chase made out a pilot’s chair and throttle.

“Up to this point, we have seen fit to keep a dampener on the Streakers’ power so none of you accidentally go so fast that you lose consciousness. But it is time to ‘open up’ the engines, so to speak. And for that, we need to practice.” She touched the huge metal machine. “This is the Star City Centrifuge, originally Russian-made. It will simulate high-g that you have hitherto only imagined. Speed equivalents to Mach 7, even 8.”

“Wicked,” Romeo said.

Chase couldn’t keep down a smile. It was wicked. It was just about the coolest thing she’d ever heard.

“Akin to testing astronauts for takeoff, we need to gauge how well you handle prolonged G-force upward of, say, eight or nine. You have flown fast enough to feel more than that for brief moments, but today we will endeavor to keep you there for a significant duration.” Adrien stopped by Tristan and put a hand on his shoulder. “You must keep your wits and fly.”

Adrien flipped a switch, and a large view screen rolled down the wall. “You will have a monitor with a computer-generated landscape, and we will watch your progress here. Just pilots today. Tomorrow we will test RIOs.”

“It looks dangerous,” Sylph said.

Dr. Adrien waved her hand absently. “You might pass out. Or experience grayout. This is when the blood is restricted from the brain, creating a loss of colored sight followed by a complete loss of vision. Recovery is rapid in these situations, usually within minutes. Although, I have heard a few stories of brain aneurisms occurring.”

Was Adrien teasing Sylph? The woman tightened her lips against a smirk, and Chase suddenly loved the old lady.

“You will control your blood flow with muscle tension in your extremities. It won’t be easy, but unlike astronauts who can come in and out of consciousness under autopilot, we cannot have you blacking out up there.”

“Graying out,” Pippin corrected. Romeo and Tristan smirked, and Chase was a little surprised to see her RIO smile back at Tristan.

Adrien turned the centrifuge on. “I need a few moments to get it up to speed.” It hummed to life slowly with increasing sound and vibration.

Romeo leaned over the aisle, staring a little too obviously at Sylph’s chest. “I have a question for the U.S. Streaker jocks. Why two females? Shouldn’t there be a girl and a boy to be more balanced?”

Chase put a hand over her laugh, readying for Sylph’s response.

Sylph’s eyebrow rose sharply. “Penises aside, Romeo, we competed for the Streaker project. Nyx and I are the best pilots at the academy. That’s why females.”

“You’re not better than Arrow,” Romeo countered. “Not faster anyway.”

Before Sylph could bite back, Adrien asked for a volunteer. When Tristan was the first to stand, Sylph shot to her feet. “Like hell you will,” she said to Tristan. She looked at Chase. “Nyx. This is your sort of thing. Snap to.”

Adrien took Tristan’s arm. “Mr. Router will do for starters. You’ll all have your turn.”

Sylph sat down hard enough to make her chair curse. The woman helped Tristan strap into the pilot’s seat, peering through a small window at him once she shut the door. The centrifuge hummed loud enough to drown out the whole room. Adrien handed around the noise-canceling headphones that the ground crew wore. A projector lit up the large view screen on the wall, showing a digitalized sky with a woodsy horizon.

The simulation began.

Chase was mesmerized by the view from Tristan’s cockpit. He turned fast and kept one wing a hint lower than the other. There was a state of ease in the way he flew, and she could sense her own brand of urgency…always wanting to go faster. She wondered if Tristan felt it like she did: an itch. A need.

Tristan was a fine pilot, and Chase watched Sylph realize it out of the corner of her eye. The girl looked bored at first, then skeptical, then stubbornly resigned.

Adrien notched nine-g before Tristan’s flying began to show the strain. She gave advice through a small mic that must have propelled her voice into the roaring centrifuge. “Breath in short bursts,” Chase thought she heard Adrien say. “Pull higher and throttle forward all the way.”


Chase chewed her bottom lip. It was a rush to watch Tristan lift under the digital clouds and drive forward. It reminded her of their time together in the sky, and she wanted that again more than anything else in the world. His direction was tight and beautiful and so fast.

“That is Mach 5,” Adrien said, powering down the centrifuge. “Nine times the weight of gravity.”

Chase peeled her headphones off as Adrien opened the door. Tristan was slumped in his seat, his head hanging forward and his hair a mess. He was so deflated from his usual confident self that Chase felt an urge to help him. She didn’t.

Romeo took Tristan’s arm over his shoulder. Pippin got Tristan’s other side, and the two RIOs lead Tristan to a seat on the floor against the wall.

Adrien was pleased. “If you have been in the air, you would have broken the manned airspeed record.”