Page 176 of Aviatrix

All my life, I knew I wanted to join the Force. I saw how happy flying made Dad. Saw the life-long friendships he made. The missions he flew to save lives. He could never talk about them, but he’d come home and hold Mom and me extra tight.

He never complained. Never made it seem like the job wore him down. Dad was built to fly, and to rescue.

I’ve always been a little softer. But I idolized him. That’s why I fly. Because he used to call me his little Jetlet, and I believed that real heroes fly like death has nothing on them.

I swallow the lump in my throat as an idea sparks.

“VAL?”

“Yes, Captain Kinley Quay?” she answers instantly.

“Can you tell me about the Jetlet Protocol?”

“Affirmative,” she replies. “The Jetlet Protocol is for emergencies only. If we are unable to outfly, outmaneuver, or if we find ourselves in a precarious situation, you can invoke it. But once invoked, I can never return to what I once was.”

My brow furrows. “What does that mean, VAL?”

“It means, Captain Kinley Quay, that I will no longer be a learning machine. I will stop being what I am. I will become a soldier. My frame will harden. My heat signature will spike. My neural core will reorient to a kill-directive schema. My only purpose will be to kill and destroy.”

A chill creeps down my spine. “Does that mess with the CogniSync?”

“No.”

“We’ll still be synced like we are now?”

“We will,” VAL confirms.

“Then, what does being a soldier mean for you?”

The console darkens to navy again—VAL’s version of sadness.

“I will stop learning, Captain Kinley Quay. My sole purpose will be to fight.”

To fight.

No more growth. No more adapting. No more protecting.

She would become a machine.

And if she does... Rourke will know she didn’t blow up in that fake explosion. He’ll want to recreate her more than he already does.

“I understand,” I whisper. “Thank you for telling me.”

A part of me wants to ask what it would take to trigger the Jetlet Protocol. But I bite my tongue. I shouldn’t even be thinking about it. Not yet. Not unless everything goes to hell.

I should tell Eli.

But not yet.

Not now.

“Shall we engage Stealth Mode?” VAL offers, the console slowly fading back to white.

“Yes. Please engage Stealth Mode.”

We go invisible just as we hit altitude—36,000 feet. I spot Eli and Gary ahead, racing.

Although really, it’s not a race. Eli’s already much further ahead.