The Diatous Wars 1: Rebel Wing (22 page)

Aris woke at
the touch of a hand on her arm. Major Vidar’s face loomed over her in the glow of the lantern. She sat up too quickly and hissed when her head cracked against the wall of the cave.

She’d dreamt of Lux, and Calix. It took a moment for the sound of crashing waves to fade from her mind.

“Sorry,” Major Vidar said, rocking back on his heels. “No more beauty sleep for you. Time to go.”

In an effort to avoid his eyes, her gaze swept up and caught on the bandage binding his forehead. A little blood had seeped through. “Let me check your wound first, sir.”

“We have to hurry.”

“It’ll just take a minute. The dressing needs to be changed.” She pushed on his shoulder to get him to sit and grabbed the small canister of disinfectant and a fresh length of gauze. He held up the lantern so she could see better.

“You don’t strike me as the mender type,” he said as she reached up gingerly to remove the bandage.

“You’re right.” She smiled. “Usually I’m the one getting mended.”

He laughed a little. She accidentally met his eyes, and her hands froze against his forehead.

He didn’t look away. An unfamiliar expression flitted across his face: surprise, with a bemused sort of recognition. Like he was seeing her for the first time.

She held his gaze and felt herself sway just the slightest bit toward him, as if drawn by a string. Under her hands, his head tilted back. Her lips parted.

Then he blinked, and the spell was broken. She rocked back on her knees and dropped her hands, as if scalded. “I . . . I think—” she stuttered, turning away. What was she
doing
?

Major Vidar’s hand snaked out and circled her wrist. His touch made her skin tingle, hum like the diatous veil had done, only these vibrations echoed deep beneath the surface. “You’re injured, too,” he said, sounding concerned.

“I am?” She looked down as if she expected to find fresh blood on her shirt.

His fingers gently touched the back of her skull, and pain flared. She winced.

“Sorry,” he said, his other hand still warm on her wrist.

She pulled free, not looking at him. “It’s fine, sir. We should go.”

“Are you sure? It looks like a nasty bump.”

“It’s fine,” she said again.

“Alright, then. I trust you.” There was something in his voice she couldn’t quite identify.

She started to move away, but he cleared his throat. “Aris?”

“Yes, sir?” She glanced back at him, and caught his amused smile.

“Could you finish my dressing? I’m a bit undone here.” He lifted the edge of gauze that dangled along the side of his face.

Heat rushed from her scalp to her toes. “Of course. I’m so sorry.” She finished disinfecting and bandaging the wound as quickly as she could, relieved that he kept his eyes trained on the cave’s entrance. By the time she was done, the amusement was gone from his face, and his eyes were narrowed in thought.

He stood, hunching to avoid hitting his head. “We’ll refill the canteen at the waterfall, then head north. By now a search team should have been assembled. We’ll check the wingjet for comms, but our priority is finding Lieutenant Latza.”

“Very good, sir,” she said, and moved to the entrance of the cave, looking around before venturing into open ground.

They kept to the wall of the ravine, solaguns drawn. Major Vidar stopped at the recon to see if the sunlight had recharged any of the instruments. Nothing worked.

“So where’s this Calix? Does he know what you’ve been up to?” he asked as they made their cautious way toward the transport.

Glancing at Vidar, she found his eyes on her. “No, he doesn’t know. I haven’t seen him. But I think he’s at Mekia.”

“A mender?”

She nodded. Vidar turned his attention back to their progress through the canyon. The walls of the ravine were steep, with patches of red clay in some places and gravity-defying trees clinging in others. It would a difficult climb to freedom. As their shoulders brushed the wall, leaves and little stones were dislodged, tumbling to the ground. Aris jumped at every noise, worried it would
expose
them.

The closer they got to the wreckage of the transport, the harder it was for her to breathe.

When they reached it, she shrank back. The bodies of the two Safaran soldiers still lay on the muddy ground beside the stream.

Major Vidar moved away from the wall, toward the jet.

“Sir, I think I need to stay here,” she whispered. The charred skin, the rusty stains . . . Galec’s ravaged face. She turned away, afraid she might be sick.

“Keep going. Stay along the wall, in the shadows if you can. Keep your eyes open. I’ll be just a moment.”

“Are you sure you have to go over there?” she asked. “It’s . . . not a pleasant sight.”

Major Vidar moved closer to the transport, his eyes scanning the lip of the canyon. Without looking back, he said, “I have to see for myself. Lieutenant Wolfe and I . . .” He paused. “We worked together for a long time.”

Wolfe and Talon . . . they were men she’d come to trust, rely on during missions. Galec had been more than that. He’d been her friend. Now they were dead, gone from this life.

They’d given their lives for the mission. For Lieutenant Latza. Aris couldn’t fail them now.
I will find your brother, Dysis. I promise.

She crept along the wall, her hands steady as they held her solagun. No more fear. Not with Dysis in her head.

The canyon curved, effectively cutting off her view of the northern portion. Safaran soldiers could be waiting just out of sight. She paused, listened. All she heard was Major Vidar’s footsteps behind her, the ripple of the stream, and the faint call of a bird far above. She tilted her head back and watched for a moment as it dipped and soared. Trapped down here, the wing of her jet behind her like a giant gravestone . . . she felt like a bird with clipped wings, broken and alone.

She moved forward slowly, her eyes scanning the curve of water and the muddy stream bed, the rocky edge of the canyon.

And then she saw it.

A great hulking shadow, there in the middle of the ravine.

Another wingjet, black and shining, the red flame of the Safaran flag curled along its tail.

She raised the solagun. She waited, watched, but saw no movement.

“Sir!” She didn’t dare yell, but she hoped Vidar could hear her loud whisper.

After a moment, he rounded the curve of rock and stood behind her.

He, too, stared at the wingjet.

“What should we do?” she asked, torn between fear that it was a trap and hope that it could be their means of escape.

Without answering, Major Vidar approached it. She followed, covering him. As they moved into the open, she expected to hear the whine of a missile or see the flash of solagun fire. But the morning remained serene.

He stared through the dome to the cabin. “It’s empty. Must belong to the men you shot.” He turned to glance back at her with a grim smile.

Aris knew that one day she was going to wake up with the horror of what she’d done washing over her. But in this moment, she felt nothing but joy. Joy that she was still alive. Joy that they’d found their escape.

“Don’t move.” The voice came from behind them.

She whirled and tried to get the solagun up, but her reflexes were too slow this time.

A man in a Safaran uniform had his weapon pointed directly at her head.

“Identify yourselves,” the
man barked.

Aris shot a panicked glance at Major Vidar and saw him putting his hands up, his solagun dangling from his finger. His face was blank. How could he be so calm?

She tried to keep her shoulders straight as she faced the enemy. Her mouth was desert-dry.

“Lieutenant Latza?” Major Vidar asked mildly.

Her eyes flew to his face and back to the stranger.
This
was Jax? He was dirty from head to toe, as if he’d been rolling in mud. His jacket was Safaran Military, but he wore pale flowing pants, now stained dark with dirt and blood. He held his left foot off the ground, leaning heavily on a branch dotted with brilliant green leaves.

The man’s voice stayed hard, and his hand on the solagun didn’t falter. “Identify.”

Before Major Vidar could say anything, Aris burst out, “Are you really Jax? Dysis’s brother?”

The solagun in his hand wobbled. “You know Dysis?”

Aris took a step forward, excitement drowning her fear. “Oh,
Jax
. Dysis will be thrilled. She’s been looking for you.”

“Wait, Dysis is a woman too?” Major Vidar’s exclamation broke the tableau.

Jax lowered his weapon, and suddenly they were all talking at once, questions bumping and interrupting, with no opportunity for answers.

Finally, Aris raised her hands. The two men stopped talking. She walked over to Jax, put a hand on his arm. “Your sister has been searching for you ever since you were captured. She joined the Military sector to find you.”

His eyes widened. “She did
what
?”

Aris gave him a wry smile. “It’s more common than you might expect. I’m Aris, by the way. And this is Major Vidar.”

Jax shook her hand, though he still looked confused. When his fingers closed around hers, they were cool and clammy.

And suddenly he swayed.

Major Vidar was at his side in a moment, and together they held him up.

“You’re injured,” Vidar said.

Jax shook his head slightly, as if shaking off a dream. “I was traveling at night, didn’t see the ravine until it was too late. Broke my leg in the fall. And I haven’t eaten anything in a couple days.”

“We’ll get you to safety,” Vidar said. He and Aris helped Jax to the Safaran wingjet. “Can you fly her?”

She looked at the panel on the side of the jet. “Probably. But I don’t know the passcode.”

“Zero-nine-zero-nine,” Jax said. When she stared at him, he shrugged. “Military Intelligence. All the Safaran wingjet passcodes are the same.”

“You’re a spy?” she asked, awed.

He smiled down at her; she thought he was probably good looking, under all the mud.

“Just open it,” Major Vidar said.

As soon as they were secure and the jet was powered up, stinking and loud with Safaran fuel instead of solar power, Major Vidar adjusted the communications to Atalantan frequency.

Soon he was in contact with the Commander.

“Search and rescue is on its way, Major,” Commander Nyx’s voice rang over the in-helmet speakers. He sounded relieved.

“Sir, we’ve recovered Lieutenant Latza. He’s injured. Please advise S and R to meet us at Mekia.” He turned and met Aris’s widened eyes.

Her stomach flipped. Vidar was sending them to
Mekia
?

“Noted. Will pass the intel along. Status on Wolfe, Talon, and Galec.”

After a pause, Vidar said, “Deceased, sir. We’ll need a recovery crew.”

Silence. Finally, Commander Nyx said heavily, “Noted. And Haan?”

Major Vidar glanced at her again. “Specialist Haan is fine. He’s acclimating himself to the new wingjet.”

Aris let out a breath. If she spoke, Commander Nyx would know her disguise had been blown. And if Major Vidar wasn’t sharing that information, she wasn’t going to.

The takeoff wasn’t quite as smooth as usual; the controls were slightly different, and the machine didn’t have the same hover capabilities as Atalantan jets, but they were soon on their way to Mekia. No one fired at them, and as they flew along the edge of the ravine, she saw why; the rest of the Safaran ambush had been destroyed in the firefight. She kept her gaze from the bodies baking in the sun.

“Mekia?” she asked softly.

“It’s the closest mender stationpoint,” Major Vidar replied, clipping the words.

“Of course. Sir.”

Her palms began to sweat. What would Calix do when he saw her? Her heart beat faster, whether in fear or anticipation she couldn’t tell.

•••

The Mekia stationpoint was small, much smaller than Revening. She landed on a dusty pad behind a low row of buildings. The town rose behind the stationpoint; the white-roofed houses, which reminded her of Lux, climbed into the hills, disappearing within the shadowy green of an immense forest.

Two men rushed to meet the wingjet. She looked at them closely as they approached, but neither was Calix. Her stomach was doing a series of what felt like double spindrops, and maybe a blackflip freeze or two.

As a group of soldiers and menders gathered, Aris noticed stares and confused looks, but no one spoke to her. They were too intent on helping Jax out of the jet.

Major Vidar grabbed her arm and drew her away from the throng. “You need to stay out of sight until we figure out what to do with you,” he said. “For now, we’ll say you’re a villager who helped us locate Lieutenant Latza. You’re injured, so you’ll stay to be treated here. Specialist Haan is sleeping off his own injuries if anyone asks. Understood?”

She nodded.

“Good. Let’s see if we can find you more appropriate clothes.”

She started walking with him and then stopped abruptly, impervious to the pressure on her arm as Vidar kept moving. There, on the edge of the pad, striding toward them . . .

Oh holy. Calix.

His face was thinner than she remembered, stark without the frame of his thick brown hair. But the way he walked . . . from miles away she would recognize him.

Major Vidar said something but she couldn’t focus on the words. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.
Calix
.

If she’d been Aristos, if her veil was still working . . . maybe she could have given herself time to work up to her revelation. She could have eased Calix into the idea. But now . . . He was right here, walking toward her. Mere yards away.
Mere yards away
.

Oh Gods, he’s really here.
It was sinking in. Excitement momentarily overtook the other emotions coursing through her.

She pulled away from Major Vidar and ran to Calix, skidding to a stop before him.

He glanced over her head toward the jet, his green eyes narrowing in confusion. “Are you one of the crew? Are you injured?”

She ran a nervous hand along her bald head. “Calix,” she said, heart pounding, “It’s me. Aris.”

His eyes widened, and he looked more closely at her, taking in the shaved head and the Military uniform.

“Aris?” His voice was full of disbelief. And then worry overshadowed his features. “Are you okay? What happened? Who did this to you?” He stared at her shaved head.

“No one. I’m fine.” And she was, mostly, except for her trembling hands and a chill in her bones that wouldn’t leave her.

He grabbed her arm, as if to support her, and then stared as if surprised at her hard muscle. “But . . . but what are you doing here?” he asked, still looking dazed. “And why are you dressed like that? Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I really am, I promise, but I need to talk to you.” There were so many things to say, so much to explain. But not here. Not with the flood of menders pushing med-beds and a dizzying array of equipment toward the wingjet. Any moment, someone was going to notice her and ask her who she was. They’d want to take her away to assess her injuries . . .

“This is a closed stationpoint, no civilians allowed,” Calix said. “Did you, um . . .” He stared again at her head. “Did you come in disguise or something? Did someone let you in?”

“I’m not a civilian. I can explain, just—”

“We need to get you out of here.” He glanced toward the buzz of activity just a few yards away. “You’re going to get in trouble.”

He started pulling her toward the gated entrance, as if he meant to escort her off point. She planted her feet, resisting the pressure of his hand. “You don’t have to do that, Calix. I’m allowed to be here.” Well,
Aristos
was.

“You’re not, Aris. I’m sorry. Women aren’t—”

“Stop. Listen to me.” She grabbed his wrist. “I’m a member of the Atalantan Military, just like you.” He opened his mouth to argue, but she shook her head. “It’s true. I have a veil . . . this device . . . it makes me look male. But we crashed, and now it doesn’t work.” Her hand went to the tender spot behind her head. “I know it sounds crazy, but—”

“You crashed? Your veil? What are you talking about?” He squinted down at her, an unfamiliar expression on his face.
Suspicion
? Dismay filled her.

“I’m a flyer,” she tried again. She turned and pointed to the Safaran wingjet, where several menders were securing Jax on a med-bed to transport him inside. “That’s Lieutenant Latza. He escaped from a Safaran prison, and we rescued him.” Her voice caught. Major Vidar was walking toward them.

Calix saw him and stood straighter, reacting to the officer’s emblem on Vidar’s uniform.

“Sir . . .” she started when he reached them.

He grabbed her arm and pulled her along. “I’ve just been informed that Dysis and crew are on their way. We need to get you changed.”

She stumbled along next to him. “
Dysis
is on the rescue mission?” Commander Nyx must have changed his mind. “Did someone tell her we found Jax?”

“Not yet. He—she came after you. Well, us. Presumably she’s aware of your . . .” his eyes grazed her body and he raised a brow “. . . condition, but I doubt the others know?” Aris shook her head. “So it’s even more important to find you female clothes and stick to our villager story, until we figure things out. I’ll inform anyone who asks that Aristos isn’t fit for visitors.”

Vidar glanced at Calix, who was hurrying along next to them, his face blank with confusion. “You must be Calix.”

Calix’s eyes widened, obviously surprised Major Vidar knew who he was. “Yes, sir.” He looked again at Aris, but she shrugged. Further explanations would have to wait.

Taking her other arm, so she was pinned between them, Calix said, “I know where there are some extra clothes, sir. I can help.”

The two of them shuttled her across the landing pad, as if she were a criminal.

With a grunt, she pulled away. Stopped. They both turned to her, brows raised, and she noticed Calix was shorter than Major Vidar. He’d always seemed so tall.

“I can walk perfectly fine on my own, thank you. Sir,” she added, nodding at Major Vidar.

“Fine. Walk, Specialist.”

She kept her head up and her eyes straight ahead. She’d known it would be a lot for Calix to accept, her arriving at his point as a soldier. She’d known he’d be confused. Shocked. But suspicious? Wasn’t he even a
little
bit happy to see her?

And why did it bother her so much to see him side by side with Major Vidar?

Calix led them to a glass door around the corner of the building, away from Jax and his entourage of menders. With a hiss, the door slid open.

“All we have is extra mender uniforms, sir,” he said as he walked.

“That’ll do for now,” Vidar replied. “Aris, remember. You’re a village girl who saw an injured soldier and helped lead Aristos and myself to him. You hurt your head when you were showing us the way, so we brought you along to get treated. Got it?”

“Stupid village girl who hit her head. Got it.” Aris fought back sudden, inexplicable tears. She’d rather have just been Aristos, veil or no veil.

“Let’s look for something we can use to cover your shaved head,” Major Vidar added.

When they reached a closed door at the end of a long hallway, Calix swiped his hand across the monitor, and the door slid open. It was a storage room: cleaning supplies, shelves stacked high with linens, and a rack of white mender tunics like the one he wore. Only, unlike his, they didn’t have a name or Military emblem stitched into them.

Aris yanked one off the rack and started to remove her jacket. She glanced over her shoulder. Major Vidar and Calix were squeezed awkwardly into the small space by the closed door, looking anywhere but at her.

“A little privacy?”

With some throat clearing and mumbling, the two men left the room.

Alone, she sagged against the wall, hugging the mender tunic to her chest.
Foolish. Stupid. Silly.
All the names that Dianthe and Dysis had called her, she was every single one of them, and worse. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Why couldn’t I have found him sooner
? Or later . . . but not now. Not when her veil was broken, when Major Vidar knew who she really was. When her fellow soldiers were dead.

Aris bent forward, unable to hold back the tears any longer.