Page 164 of Aviatrix

She gnaws on her bottom lip. There's something about the tension in her shoulders, the unease in her body, that unsettles me.

“What is it?” I ask.

She subtly shakes her head. “Nothing.”

I know her too well, though. I know it’s not just nothing.

“If something’s going on, you need to tell me,” I say, gentler this time. “I want to help you.”

“This isn’t about me,” she says firmly. “It’s about you. And VAL.”

My stomach knots. “What about me and VAL?”

She hesitates—doesn’t want to say it—but finally, she sighs. “Your dad wanted me to tell you if you ever got ahold of VAL and it was a true emergency—”

“This feels like an emergency,” I reinforce.

She lets out a heavy breath. “VAL can be converted into a fighter jet. Under the right protocol. Not as deadly as the real thing, but she can hold her own.”

“A protocol?”

“The Jetlet Protocol,” she reveals with a hitch of her shoulder.

Jetlet. Dad’s name for me.

It brings back so many memories. Visiting him at Langdon. Watching him do his pre-flight checklist, his stride long, his hands crossed behind his back. The smell of his sandalwood cologne. Of oil. And fresh air. Him helping me into the cockpit for a quick ride. The feeling when he’d take off so fast my stomach would feel like it left my body.

I should tell Eli. I should tell Lark. But information is a weapon here, and I don’t even know who’s holding the knife.

I jolt back to the moment. “Why would he hide that?”

She shrugs. “He had good intentions, Kinley. He was scared. Scared that you’d follow in his footsteps, that you’d be unprotected. VAL was complete before he disappeared, but the Jetlet Protocol? That was different. Just theory and hope. To my knowledge, it was never tested. At least not by him.”

“Was there some kind of threat I didn’t know about?” I ask.

She lets out a soft chuckle. “I think he was preparing for this. For a time when people would use calculated strikes and brute force to control others.”

“I guess he knew more than either of us gave him credit for.”

Mom reaches for my hand. “I’m sorry so many people have left you feeling abandoned. I hope I’m not one of them.”

“Never,” I say, squeezing her fingers.

“Now,” she exhales, pulling herself back to task, “the General’s here. He’s getting ready to speak to everyone.”

“It’s about time,” I say under my breath.

“Finish your coffee, take a shower, and then meet me in the mess hall,” she instructs. “That’s where we’re all gathering.”

Even my team? Gary, Scooter, and Thea?

I need to speak with them. I need answers. Real ones. About VAL. About why they brought her to me and didn’t have the decency to tell me what she was.

“Did Dad ever know a man named Lieutenant Gary Tootsie?” I ask.

Mom scrunches her face. “What’s his call sign?”

“Atlas.”