Breaking Sky(5)

It didn’t help that the hangar was a lesson in cold, sinking ice fingers into her muscles. The building was cement-floored with four-story-high ceilings. Chase jogged around planes, jets, and helicopters in a range of working order. There were even a few older, now obsolete drones. Some birds stood under huge tarps like veiled dinosaur bones while others were shiny and fueled, ready to fly far and fast in case someone turned up the burner on the Second Cold War. The pilots stationed here lived at the ready.

“You could have said you’d try to make it.” Pippin jogged faster to catch up. “Let them dream a little.”

“Hope is sugar. Truth is protein,” she said, unwittingly quoting her father.

“Cheers, Gandhi.”

“Come on. A freshman ground crew party in the barracks? It’ll be broken up in fifteen minutes, and I don’t know about you, but I don’t need any more demerits.”

“It couldn’t hurt to have a few more friends, Chase. Even out your reputation a little.”

“Not my concern,” she said, ignoring his jibe. There were a little more than a thousand cadets at the Star, and while everyone seemed to know Chase because of her status as a Streaker pilot, she only knew the flyboys she interacted with daily—and the ones she singled out for a little fun.

Chase flung open the door to the tower and took the steps two at a time. “You’re one to talk, Pip. I don’t see you socializing with anyone outside of Baggins or Skywalker during free hour.”

At the top of the stairs, she entered a circular room bustling with airmen and lined with windows. Outside, the sky lapsed into navy twilight while the green mist of the northern lights shone down.

The academy and the Air Force base, known jointly as the Star, lay within view of Canada’s glacial rolls and epic forests. Banks Island was formerly a Canadian National Park, a forgotten little piece of ice that the U.S. had purchased decades back, right before Ri Xiong Di took over. It was an “out of sight, out of mind” kind of location. A pain in the butt to get to for those people who didn’t have military aircraft at their disposal. It was also strategically located just east of Alaska—a likely invasion point if Ri Xiong Di stormed through Siberia.

A set of older fighter jets took off on the runway below. They roared and sent vibrations through the tower and straight into Chase’s chest. Those birds were probably impressive in their day, but now they wouldn’t last half a minute against a red drone. Too many things felt that way. Great, but dated. Chase had been born in a country stuck in survival mode, and when she read about America’s recent history of prosperity, she had to squint. What did that look like?

Chase elbowed toward the busy center of the tower. Pippin was with her, although he hung back. She knew her RIO better than he liked to admit, and something about that phantom Streaker had spooked him. Well, Chase was spooked too.

She cleared her throat twice before a staff sergeant swung around in his chair. The name above the chest pocket on the digital tiger stripe pattern of his Airman Battle Uniform was MASTERS.

“Pippin and Nyx. My lucky day.” Masters was young and hawkish in nature with narrow-close eyes and a nose that skewed beak-like. “Cadets can’t be in the tower. Out.”

“But, sir—”

“Out!”

“Do you mean ‘shouldn’t be in the tower?’” Pippin asked. “Because we are clearly able to be in the tower, thus disproving the use of can, its verb root being ‘to be able to.’”

“Pippin, I suspect that semantics are not the staff sergeant’s strong suit.”


“Truth.” Pippin’s smirk was all in his eyes, mischief in a brainy-gone-cute way.

Masters practiced a cold scowl. Clearly, he imagined himself to be a general. Too bad he looked like he was about to squawk. “You two think you’re so untouchable. You might be Kale’s pet, Harcourt, but your RIO is just a RIO. How would he like some demerits?”

Chase turned to Pippin. “Is it 138?”

“142 last time I tested.”

Chase smiled at Masters. “His IQ is 142, sir. Just how badly do you think the military wants him here and happy?”

Masters leaned back in his chair, making it groan. “I don’t have time to pal around with you two. And I can’t help you do whatever it is you’re up to.”

“Now that use of can I do believe to be accurate,” Pippin said.

“Where’s Kale? We have business that concerns the whole goddamn military.” Chase pointed to the blipping radar screen. “You saw that I had company up there.”

“I saw nothing.” Masters folded his arms. “Are you imagining things? Should I let the academy psychiatrist know that Dragon’s team is cracking up? Is Nyx finally washing out?”

Chase leaned in. Her body tensed like gravity was about to triple. “You—”

Her RIO took her arm and led her out of the tower just as her fist readied to plant itself into the staff sergeant’s face. The door clamped shut behind them, giving way to the dense cool of the stairway and its concrete-encased quiet.

“I’m all for lipping pompous officers, but violence is only going to get you on the Down List.” Pippin took hold of her shoulders and peered in close. She looked away. He knew how to haul her out of her red zone like no one else, and she wasn’t always pleased about it. Anger was like speed—it gave her direction.