Breaking Sky(7)

“There are only two Streakers, Harcourt. Dragon and Pegasus.”

And Phoenix, she added to herself.

So Kale knew. If he wasn’t genuinely curious—if he pretended like he didn’t believe her—he knew. What then? Pippin was right; the military wasn’t exactly forthcoming with hard facts, but Chase had always trusted Kale—and he appeared to trust her.

She sat taller and put the bayonet down with a sharp thump. “Is it a secret bird? A backup? I just need to know if it’s American. If Ri Xiong Di stole the plans—”

“You didn’t see anything, Harcourt.” He shot her a look that snapped her back to attention. To being a cadet at the academy and not the star pilot kicking back in her favorite commander’s office. It stung.

“It’s the trials, isn’t it?” he added a little gruffly, a little late. “They’re getting to you.”

“I’m not cracking up!” She stood, her chest as tight as a fist.

“Of course not.” He waved for her to sit back down. “But we’re three months to January. It’d be natural if you were feeling the pinch.”

Chase glared at the worn tile. It was a low blow to bring up the pressure of the trials. Kale must have really wanted to distract her from the mystery Streaker.

It worked.

“Pinch,” she muttered. That was like calling a bullet wound a copper-coated splinter. In the air, she could face anything, but the upcoming government trials over whether the U.S. would fund a fleet of Streakers made her flinch outright. The question would come down to her flying—and Sylph’s. And if they failed? If they couldn’t prove the Streakers could beat a red drone? No more Dragon. No more reaching hope for the U.S.

Kale crossed the room and sat on the edge of the desk before her. “Harcourt, 2049 will be a revolutionary year for the U.S. For the world. I’m not worried.”

“That makes me feel so much more relaxed.” Chase’s sarcasm was as good as her helmet visor. She could flick it down when she didn’t want anyone to know where she was looking. But now her words turned flat, the mask of her confidence slipping. “Sylph will give the government board what they want to see. She can run all the standard maneuvers backward and forward.”

“But not half as fast as you.” Kale’s stare was polished brown stone. “And you know it’s not about having jets that can fly. It’s about jets that can outfly those drones.”

Chase couldn’t hold his gaze. She stared at the sound edge of his left shoulder, at the single shining star, and wondered if she really was cracking up.

“I keep thinking about those reds we saw over the d-line last month.” The memory flared. Chase had risked a maneuver only a few miles from the demarcation line and glimpsed a scarlet hive: red drones, all of them missile toting. She prickled like a wasp had set down on her nose. “Seems like the border is bulking up for something big.”

“The New Eastern Bloc is nervous because we’ve been quiet. And they should be, shouldn’t they? No doubt they’re dying to catch one of those speeding blips on their satellites. We’re close, Harcourt. I can taste the U.S. as a world protector again.” His chin was set at the best angle. “We’ll reset the balance. Put an end to human rights violations and help all those people in Ri Xiong Di’s stranglehold. We’ll resurrect the standard of American lives.”

He paused, and she thought he might be waiting. This was her chance to say something equally poetic and patriotic.

“We’ll do…that,” she managed. “No problem.” Good Lord.

Kale laughed, a lifting sound. His salt and ash hair shook. It was always a little longer than regulation and seemed to prove that he was the only person who could head a military academy full of teens who spent as much time battling each other as keeping their eyes on the horizon of a very real war. “Sylph is a fine, clinical pilot, but she doesn’t have the spirit to outthink those drones. You’re the one who’s going to prove that a mind will always beat a machine.”

Chase touched the side of her head as though she needed to make sure her brains were really in there.

Kale’s eyes held a renewed spark. “Just be yourself, Harcourt. Well, be a less impulsive version of yourself.”

She nodded.

“Go get out of that zoom bag. Get some rest.” He sat back in his desk chair and his voice went soft. “You gave me a serious scare with that stunt, but—and I’ll deny it if you relay this to anyone else—it was a fine maneuver.” He bent his head over the book he had been reading when she entered. “Dismissed, cadet.”

She tried not to grin—and failed.





5


    KNIFE FIGHT IN A PHONE BOOTH


   Getting Too Close to Sylph


Chase loved the Green. The crisp scent of trees filled each breath while the clip of her boots on the brick path sounded a strong beat.

Banks Island rubbed elbows with the Arctic shelf, but the center of the Star was a glass-ceilinged greenhouse designed to feel like a campus in temperate zones. The trees were too straight, however, lining up every few steps for the length of two football fields. Pippin called them “planted soldiers poised for battle.” She wished he were wrong. But it seemed like the threat of war was everywhere, even in the landscaping patterns.