Breaking Sky(80)

“Well, you’ve just set yourself back a week, Chase Harcourt.”

Chase stood fast. “A week?! This is going to be over in a matter of days!”

Ritz spoke to Riot, ignoring Chase. “To the infirmary and then get some rest. How long until you’re back in the air?”

Riot checked his watch. “Five hours.”

“Go.” Ritz turned to speak with Adrien, and Chase watched Riot leave.

He stumbled into two chairs on his way out, and it had nothing to do with his nose. He was leveled with exhaustion too. They all were, especially Sylph and Tristan. Tourn had ordered a permanent Streaker watch along the d-line. One jet wouldn’t do much against an invading fleet, but with the radio humming nonsense and the satellite on the fritz, the Streaker’s responsibility was to get back to the Star with a warning—a warning to send everyone to the bunkers…

Pegasus and Phoenix had been trading twelve-hour shifts over the last five days—since Pippin’s death had turned the Second Cold War into an out and out conflict. And this time, there were no confidential statements. Everyone knew. About Ri Xiong Di, the drone, the crash.

About Pippin.

Chase glanced at Adrien’s desk. The elderly engineer kept her handheld screen on mute, but Chase could still see the psychotic news coverage. The public’s panic. Raids and hysteria, not to mention President Grainor’s grim speeches and knuckle-white grip on the podium.

But this time, the screen showed a new terror.

Pippin’s three brothers and mother had been squeezed onto a ratty couch. His mother kept her hand over her face.

“What is that?” Chase blurted, interrupting Ritz and Adrien’s dispute. They followed Chase’s glare, and Adrien touched the corner of the screen to turn on the sound.

The reporter leaned in like a predator. “Can you tell us about your son? What were his passions? His hobbies?”

“Nerd stuff,” Pippin’s oldest brother said.

Andrew, the youngest, squirrelliest, and inarguably dirtiest of the boys, sent an elbow into his eldest brother’s side. “Henry loved flying. He was the best RIO in the Air Force. And the smartest. He had the best pilot too: Nyx.”

Chase’s heart bottomed out. She stopped breathing.

The reporter slid even closer, proving he wasn’t a predator after all. He was a damn scavenger, and he was about to pick the family clean. “Mrs. Donnet, how do you feel about Henry’s pilot? Are you angry that your son died while she lived? Do you blame her?”

Pippin’s mom stared down.

Adrien made a move to shut off the screen.

“Leave it on,” Ritz and Chase said in sync.

Chase needed to know. She certainly blamed herself. She should never have dropped so low with that drone on her tail. She should have let that missile take out their wing and ejected…

After a few long moments, Pippin’s mother said, “They were attacked by Ri Xiong Di. We’re lucky one of them survived.”

The reporter didn’t seem to hear her, launching into questions the family couldn’t possibly know, including: “What can you tell me about the jet your son was flying in? Sources have led us to believe they’re a new type of jet that has yet to be disclosed to the public.”

Adrien put the screen on mute just as the image showed Chase’s and Pippin’s junior year cadet pictures side by side. Chase wavered and sat down. All the blood had left her brain.

“Hope they made a fortune from that interview,” she murmured. “Enough to buy a real house.” But that’s not what she really hoped. She hoped it hadn’t happened at all. No interview, because Pippin hadn’t died, because there had been no accident. Her mind kept doing this sort of…rewind. She went backward, pulled the move differently, didn’t head too low, bested the drone. Won the trials.

Then she celebrated with Pippin back in the chow hall. They ate cake. Well, he scooped up the icing and she ate the fluffy stuff beneath it. Like always.

Chase’s mouth tasted bitter all of a sudden, and she came back to reality with more fury than she’d had after crashing in the simulator for the fortieth time. She locked eyes on the floor and made herself breathe, just like Kale had told her in the days following her accident. His words were loud through her thoughts, and she held on to them.

Focus, Harcourt. Breathe.

It might have worked if her eyes didn’t catch on Ritz’s low-heeled shoes and beside them, where a few drops of Riot’s blood had smeared into a brilliant half rainbow on the tile.

Chase remembered Pippin’s blood blooming and fading as it spread into the lake.

She gagged, and spit flew out in a long string. Ritz jumped back while Adrien came closer, holding on to Chase’s shoulders.

Chase wiped her mouth and pushed herself toward clarity. Toward the pain. “Riot’s going to get killed,” she said to Ritz. “They all are. Sylph, Arrow, and Romeo. They’re too tired! We need another pilot in the rotation, which means you need to give me my wings back!” Chase was in Ritz’s face. She wasn’t exactly sure when she’d charged forward, but she was there now, vomit breath and all. “Please.”

The woman’s narrowed expression, wire-rimmed glasses, and huge hair bun were different up close. Chase suddenly realized that Ritz wasn’t forty-something but possibly early thirties.