Breaking Sky

by Cori McCarthy

  Pippin dropped into his seat behind Chase and fastened in. “Where’ve you been?”

  “Thinking.” Chase closed Dragon’s canopy.

  “Sounds ominous.”

  Pegasus left the hangar slowly, and Dragon was stuck behind her, rolling toward the runway a foot at a time.

  Chase muttered a few choice curses. “God, Sylph makes flying look like a job.”

  “Hey there, Bad Mood,” Pippin said with slight care. “Want to vent a little before you launch us into the death grip of the sky?”

  The shortwave radio popped, and Chase opened the channel. “Get in the air, Sylph!”

  Sylph’s voice jabbed through. “Better stay with me, Nyx. I hear you’ve been seeing things.”

  Chase snapped. “Yeah, well, how are we ever going to get up there if you take five years to get to the runway?” She punched the radio link off. “How does she know?”

  “Small community. Big gossip. And to think the boys’ locker room isn’t such a discreet place…” Pippin sighed. “We could park Dragon in Riot’s mouth if he held it still long enough.”

  “It’s not just Sylph,” Chase admitted, with what felt like gravity swelling all around her. “Kale told Crackers that I imagined sighting a Streaker. Crackers hinted that I’m cracking up.”

  “Christ on a bike, Chase.” He swore. A heavy, four-letter, rhymes with duck kind of swear. “I thought Kale was smarter than that.”

  “Smarter than what?”

  He ignored her. “I told you to let it go. Now it’s probably already on your record. They could give Dragon to one of the runner-up pilots for the trials.”

  Was that true? Did Chase already ruin her chances to keep her spot with Dragon? If Sylph knew, the whole Star knew—maybe it was too late. Her face burned as her thoughts zoomed to the red helmet. Phoenix was the answer. She had to find a way to fly with him again. Tail him back to his base. Unmask him.

  Prove he was real. That she belonged at the Star. She did…didn’t she?

  She hadn’t realized she’d stopped Dragon. Ground crew looked up from where they held the huge hangar doors open, no doubt wondering what had made her stall out in the middle of the entryway.

  “Nyx.” Pippin strapped his mask on. His voice came loud and clear through her helmet. “Push past it for now. We have to fly. You all in?” He said it like he was worried that she was cracking up too.

  “I’m going after Phoenix.”

  Pippin’s voice was urgent. Desperate. “No, Chase. Revealing the third Streaker to the Star will open up intel about it to the world. Kale doesn’t want that. They’re not ready. We’ll know more after the trials.”

  “Wait.” A red-hot spark lit in her chest. “You know about this, don’t you? You knew about the third Streaker even before we saw him. Didn’t you?”

  “I put some pieces together. Parts logs always showed three sets. It seemed off, so I asked Kale about it last year.”

  “Last year? And you never said anything?”

  “He ordered me not to say anything. Besides, he didn’t give me any real answers.” Pippin’s tone hung with panic. He knew Chase too well not to know that this wasn’t going well. He knew her too well to say what he said next. “Let it go. This is much bigger than the Nyx Show.”

  She punched the throttle as they rolled onto the runway. Dragon sped around Pegasus, cutting off Sylph. This was Chase’s life. Her wings. Wasn’t that what Kale was always telling her? Fly from the gut. Use your fear. Trust your instincts. Well, all three of those things were telling her to risk it all. Prove herself.

  Dragon blasted down the runway only to spin out and turn back around. She directed them at Pegasus. She tasted the same kind of blind resolve that had sent her into the landmine obstacle course when she was twelve, trying to prove to her father she was as tough as his recruits. She’d failed that time, emerging muddied, heartbroken, and slick with her own blood. But she wouldn’t fail today.

  “Are we playing chicken with Sylph? Because that’s not really a contest.” Pippin was trying to joke. To reach her.

  No joy.

  Sylph was already trying to get out of the way, but Chase turned toward her and kicked up the speed.

  “You should have told me, Pippin,” she said through her teeth. “I thought we trusted each other.”

  “Chase…”

  “And Kale should know that if he’s going to make me look crazy, I’m going to act crazy.” Chase accelerated so fast that Sylph had to turn awkwardly to avoid collision. Pegasus slid out on the ice and rammed a ground crew supply shack.

  Chase shot Dragon into the air.

  “You took out Sylph!” Pippin yelled.

  “Oops,” she said flatly. Chase headed past Canada, toward America, her plan in action and her thoughts blind to everything else. Kale tried to reach her on the emergency feed, and Pippin pleaded, but she ignored all of it and flew—nothing but the ever-blue air and the promise of seeing Phoenix lighting up her veins.

  • • •

  “I’m sorry,” Pippin said for maybe the fiftieth time. “Whatever you’re about to do to get back at me, I’m sorry!”

  Chase ignored him. Her whole body was concentrating on flying. They were approaching the Grand Canyon at Mach 2, and the area was appropriately deserted for what she wanted to do. “Get ready to call Mayday, Pip.”

  “What?!”

  “We’re going to crash. Or look like we’re crashing. Then they’ll send help, just like last time, and because Sylph is grounded…”

  “They’ll send Phoenix,” Pippin finished for her. “God almighty, Nyx.”

  “Exactly.”

  Pippin started to swear as Dragon dropped into the earth’s great rift. The rust and toast-colored striations zipped past like the jet was entering warp speed.

  “Let’s make it look good, shall we?” Chase spun Dragon toward the sun before flipping them to face the ground. A strange thrill overtook the fall, and it matched the buzzing out-of-control spin of her mind.

  Pippin hit the emergency radio with very real fear. “Mayday, Mayday, Mayday!”

  A few hundred feet before they crashed, Chase pulled on the stick. She dragged in the speed, dropping the landing gear at the last second. They came to a smashing stop, the struts bouncing off the hard-sand bottom. Dragon’s tires let out with a pop and a scream.

  Wheezing air filled the sudden silence.

  “All right back there?”

  Pippin groaned. “I think I just lost forty IQ points.”

  “You have enough to spare.” A bit of the insane red was leaving her vision. She might really be on the Down List after this stunt, but she didn’t regret it. “I had to,” she said before Pippin could ask.

  “Yeah, well.” He sounded more resigned than angry. “You always do.”

  “You’re not mad?”

  “Team Nyx,” he said, and she felt his honesty like an embrace. “Maybe you’ll finally get me sent home this time.”

  “Knock it off.” Nothing got under her skin faster than when Pippin joked about wanting to leave the Star. “You’re stuck with me whether you like it or not.”

  “If you tell me you’re in love with me, I’ll have to point out that you don’t know me.” Pippin’s line had all the appearance of a joke without the tone. Chase made a note to mull that one over later. For now, she scanned the sky for their rescuer.

  She didn’t have to wait long.

  8

  BOARDS OUT

  Speed Brakes Extended

  A jet screeched overhead.

  Phoenix looped into the canyon, the right wing a little higher than the left. The pilot set down like Chase often did, hard and tight and not like Sylph. There was nothing careful or overly rehearsed in his maneuvers, almost like he was making it up as he went.

  She burned to know what else th
ey had in common, and she had to hold herself back from flipping the canopy open and jumping out to greet him. Instead, she played dead and ordered Pippin to do the same.

  Phoenix taxied over. The third Streaker was identical to the other two, except it didn’t bear any standard markings. No Air Force symbol. Not even the Navy’s—which she had prayed it wouldn’t. Nothing worse than dealing with the TOPGUN know-it-alls. But then, where did the Streaker come from? Why all the mystery and hush-hush?

  The bird’s nose turned just to the right of Dragon’s, sidling them cockpit to cockpit.

  And there he was: Mr. Red Helmet.

  Only a few feet away.

  He could have been anyone behind his mask and visor. A robotic lizard, Pippin had suggested, but Chase didn’t see a tail. What she saw was a large, gloved hand pressed to his canopy as he peered close. She saw shoulders like Kale’s and arms that made Riot’s look like pencils.

  “I owe you five bucks,” Pippin said. “Looks like a boy to me. The RIO too.”

  “I want to meet them,” Chase said.

  “And how do you propose—”

  “Easy. Let’s follow them home.” Chase unsnapped her mask and showed Phoenix’s team a wide smile. “Got you,” she mouthed.

  The pilot’s head panic-swung left and right before he launched Phoenix into the air. Chase shot after them, mangling the takeoff on her popped tires.

  “Bad idea, Chase! Way worse than your first one.” If Pippin had given up on her call sign, he really was desperate, but she was so far beyond coming down. She smelled a challenge, and she wasn’t wrong. Phoenix should have been long gone by the time Dragon hit the sky, but she found him right away.

  He was waiting for her.

  Dragon slid under Phoenix as they left the canyon behind. Flying low, way too low, they clipped across the barren desert—right before the other pilot punched the throttle with such ferocity that she screamed when she mimicked his move. She left her old speed record way behind while they raced wildly. Chase’s body was all pressure and heat, but her mind danced, delighted.

  Phoenix wasn’t trying to escape. She felt like he was playing, flirting, and she found herself teasing him right back. Before the spotted green edge of the Gulf of Mexico, he stole the lead, and she executed a double cross so close that Pippin whooped with joy or terror—or more likely both.

  When the bingo fuel alarm went off, Chase overrode it and kept after Phoenix. He was heading northeast, the same direction he had escaped during their last flight.

  “Nyx, no gas for this,” Pippin said.

  “Yeah, but double or nothing says he knows where there’s a gas station close by.” She could feel Dragon’s limits. They were going much slower now but still too fast, still burning through their limited fuel. And yet she couldn’t disengage. Where was he going? What did he look like? And why did she so desperately need to see him?

  The right engine went out.

  Dragon’s wings shook as Phoenix crossed the Hudson Bay and set down on a hiccup of an island.

  “Wait.” Pippin’s voice trembled. “This is bad, Nyx! Turn around! Turn around while you still have altitude!”

  “I can’t.” Her voice was cool, but her mind was blazing. “I’m going to land behind him. He’s a friendly, remember?”

  Pippin didn’t buy her forced calm. “This is bad, bad, bad. That’s not U.S. soil. Remember the Declaration of No Assistance?”

  She did. Shit.

  Too late.

  The left engine flickered and died. She managed a fast coast of a landing, skidding sideways on popped tires while metal squealed against the pavement.

  Boards out.

  • • •

  Dragon shook when it finally stopped, and Chase noticed the runway for the first time: military green.

  “Pippin.” She prickled with nerves. “This apron is camouflaged. Did we just land on some secret Ri Xiong Di base?”

  “We’re in Canada.”

  “Canada?” She forced a laugh. “Oh man, you really freaked me out for a sec.”

  “We shouldn’t be here.” No snark. No sarcasm.

  “Yes, I know that, but we’ll be gone in five. What’re the odds that Ri Xiong Di is monitoring this tiny speck of an island at this exact second?”

  “The odds are never in America’s favor, Nyx. That’s what this cold war has been all about.”

  She switched the canopy latch and unstrapped her harness. Phoenix was so close, and about a mile away, a small hangar door opened and people poured out. Many people. “Let’s go make friends before that crowd sends us packing.”

  “Chase! Listen to me!” Pippin yelled.

  Chase jumped from Dragon, the deep fall sending a jolt through her knees. She hadn’t set down outside of the Arctic in so long that the mild lake breeze took her by surprise. “It’s too late,” she called up to her RIO. “We’re all in now.”

  She popped her helmet off and messed the sweat through her fauxhawk into a more pleasing look. “Will it make a difference if we go say hi?”

  “I don’t know,” he called out.

  “Don’t you want to meet them?” She fought the edge of a smile as Pippin de-helmeted, swore, and scrambled down from Dragon.

  “You’re crazy, Nyx.”

  “Yeah, but I’m not cracking up.” They jogged to Phoenix together. “Come down!” she yelled at the two figures in the cockpit.

  Phoenix’s canopy lifted, and the pilot and RIO leaped out. Chase stepped back, bumping into Pippin. Phoenix’s team was a lot bigger than they appeared in the air. Both of them were over six feet tall with swimmer’s shoulders.

  “Think you owe me five bucks,” Pippin muttered. “Those aren’t boys. They’re men.”

  The RIO took his helmet off first—and threw it. He was the sort of wide-broad guy that could pass for fifteen or twenty-five. Still, he was cute—if you didn’t mind the caveman-worthy brow ridge.

  Before Chase could put a greeting together, the RIO charged. He hit Pippin like a linebacker, tossing him to the pavement. Chase threw herself on the guy’s back. She got her elbow around his neck and was about to choke him when the pilot lifted her off like she weighed nothing. He tossed her down and hauled his RIO away from Pippin.

  “You’ve ruined everything!” the RIO shouted as his pilot dragged him to a safer distance. His voice cramped with a French accent.

  “He didn’t fly us into this!” Chase yelled back. “I did!”

  “I don’t hit girls.” The RIO pointed at Pippin. “That little one I can take.”

  “How noble.” Chase pulled Pippin to his feet. His face was cranberry and he gasped unevenly. “You all right?”

  He slapped his chest and gave her a thumbs-up.

  Chase set her eyes on the pilot. His face was all but hidden behind his visor, and his red helmet was adorned with a white maple leaf above a stenciled call sign: ARROW. So the third Streaker was from the Royal Canadian Air Force? Weird. But even weirder, the pilot was grinning at her.

  “You. Arrow.” She wanted this moment to be better, but she was running low on time. The crowd approaching from the hangar was much closer, and the way they hustled unnerved her. “Afraid to show yourself?”

  Arrow ducked out of his helmet, rolling it under his arm in a slick move.

  Whatever Chase had been imagining, he wasn’t it. He was young, with a heated blush that lit up his cheekbones and underscored playful blue eyes. His black hair was long—a sweaty mess, half contained in a ponytail at the back of his neck.

  He was also laughing at her.

  “What’s funny?”

  “You. You’re so serious.” Arrow stepped closer, and his humor faded into a smirk. He was cocky; she had been right on that score. But Pippin was wrong to call them men just because they were big. Arrow didn’t have the manly swagger she’d been expecting.
He seemed lighthearted and easygoing, like a guy standing before a particularly awesome arcade game. Like someone who’d never been hungry or scared or left to bleed beneath a patchwork of barbed wire. Chase had been expecting her equal. What she’d found was another boy.

  She had plenty of those already.

  He held his hand out to shake, but she didn’t take it.

  Arrow registered his disappointment with a tilt of his head, reminding her of his slanted wings in flight.

  “Why…” Chase felt the pressure to ask a real question before they were interrupted by what looked like half of the Royal Canadian Air Force. “Why do you have a Streaker?”

  Arrow’s eyes sharpened, the laughter fading fast. She’d hit a nerve. Good.

  “We shouldn’t be talking to them, Arrow,” his RIO said from behind him.

  “Agreed,” Pippin added.

  Arrow spoke without taking his eyes off Chase. “After what we did in the air, I think a little polite greeting is in order.” He was still holding his hand out, still daring her to take it, and his words hinted at the feelings she’d had when flying with him. The tease and flirt. The tangle and stamina. The mach charge.

  Chase held his gaze and shook his hand.

  His leather gloves gripped hers, tugging all the way to her backbone as he hauled her a step closer. His eyes reminded her of the sky at high altitudes. No. It was more like that glint of blue in the bottom of a flame.

  “Nice to meet you, Chase Harcourt.” He said her name with authority, like he’d said it many times before.

  Her shock came with a stomach plunge. “How do you know who I am?”

  “You kidding me?” His smile returned. Brash and brilliant. “I’ve been dying to meet Nyx for years.”

  What?

  They were pushed apart before she could stutter a response. The crowd of Royal Canadian airmen had reached the two Streakers, and Chase was all but wrestled back to her jet.