Page 201 of Aviatrix

That’s exactly what he’s doing now.

I just hope it doesn’t cost him his life.

Lark lets out a long breath. “You sitting in on the briefing with the General?”

I shake my head. “Nope. I’m taking VAL out.”

“Is that—”

I hold up a hand to stop him. “I’m more safe in VAL than I am standing right here on this mountain.”

“You said something about Rourke having people here.” He tilts his head. “If he wanted VAL, why didn’t they just seize her?”

It’s something I’ve wondered myself. Rourke and Jan said I’m the key. What if they meant it literally? What if VAL can’t be accessed without me?

I shrug. “Still figuring it out.”

“Don’t forget Amber’s birthday dinner later,” Lark calls after me.

“I would never,” I reply, climbing the ladder and lowering into the cockpit.

The opaque glass hisses shut.

“VAL?” I say.

“Captain Kinley Quay,” she replies immediately, her engine coming to life beneath me.

“How do you feel about flying autopilot today?”

The console glows a deep red—she’s excited.

“Takeoff in 3… 2… 1.”

We taxi out of the hangar, slicing toward the clouded sky. For the first time all day, I exhale fully. Being up here with VAL, well, it’s the only thing in my life that’s easy. And simple.

I reach under my seat and tug free a box, resting it in my lap as the pines, snow, and mountains blur below.

“Someone said I’m a key, VAL.”

“You are,” she confirms.

“What kind of key?” I ask, knowing she probably doesn’t have—or can’t give—the answer.

“You’re my key, Captain Kinley Quay.”

“What does that mean?” I press.

Her console shifts to blue—sadness—but quickly flickers back to red. “We’re at 36,000 feet.”

I settle back, opening the lid of the box. Inside are half of Dad’s journals. I skipped the early ones the other night. I know they’re just as important as his VAL notebooks, but right now, I need to understand her. I need to understand everything.

Because if—or rather when—the aliens return, I’m going to win this war and it won’t be with luck. It’ll be with knowledge.

I flip open a worn red spiral and run my fingers over the words scrawled across the page.

Dad’s handwriting.

Most of the entries are trial notes, failed attempts to make VAL flyable. But that’s not what I’m here for. I need to know what the key is. I need to understand how he created her in his own words. I need to understand why she’ll only fly for me.