I walk the three blocks to Alden’s
quarters as planned, head down and chin tucked into my collar,
watching the sidewalk move away beneath my feet until I feel a
little woozy and the concrete threatens to loom up and smack me in
the face. Damn equilibrium.
I haven’t been the same since that day
we ran maneuvers eighteen months ago and my plane took a nose dive.
In haunting nightmares for weeks afterward, I still struggled with
the seat release, trying to get the hatch open, trying to
eject.
The world was a whirl of blinking
lights and screaming controls, the ground spinning up on me way too
fast, the throttle jerking in my hand until it was just easier to
let go. Tomas was the only thing that kept me from giving in when
my plane seemed desperate to kill me. Even now I have to close my
eyes against the memory—I feel the world start to shake apart, I
hear the klaxon warnings blare in my ears, and it’s all I can do to