The Diatous Wars 1: Rebel Wing (15 page)

A shuddering crash
yanked Aris from her dreams. Heart in her throat, she blinked against the utter black of the room; the wind didn’t so much whine as scream as it pummeled the thin outer wall behind her head.

A fist pounded against the door. “Haan, Latza. Up! Now!” As the door slid open, she threw a panicked hand to the back of her neck. She always slept with the diatous veil on, but—

The almost imperceptible smoothness of the device against her fingers addressed her most pressing fear. She was still Aristos.

“Report to the landing pad. Now.” Major Vidar’s voice rumbled louder than the storm.

“Yes, sir!” she responded, Dysis’s voice a softer echo.

Aris leaped from the bed and closed the door behind Vidar as he stalked down the hall.

Dysis touched the pad on the wall, and light flooded the room. “What’s going on?” she asked, her deep voice still thick with sleep.

Aris yanked on her pants and threw a shirt over her head. “I don’t know, but it can’t be good.”

A gust of wind buffeted the building.

As soon as they were dressed, they ran along the dimly lit hall toward the door that led to the fleet of wingjets.

Major Vidar was standing with Lieutenants Wolfe and Daakon at the edge of the landing pad, rain pummeling them.

Aris and Dysis skidded to a halt in the open doorway.

Vidar nodded toward the swirling mass of water and lightning that roiled beyond the yellowy lights of the landing pad. “Can you fly in this?” he shouted.

Aris glanced out into the flashing darkness and felt a shock of fear down her spine. Fly? In
this
? But she nodded, because she knew Major Vidar wouldn’t ask unless it was absolutely necessary.

“We got an emergency call from Tarik, a village in Southwest Mittaka.” Major Vidar briefed them as they ran to the nearest recon and transport. “There was a raid by Safaran troops, and several of our men were injured.” He stood by the wing of the transport, his face all hard lines and angles, wet with rain. He stared at Aris. “They can’t wait till morning.”

She nodded. “Yes, sir.”

He turned away to look at Wolfe. The thin man gave a curt nod as another flash of lightning lit his ghost-pale face. They climbed into the transport with Daakon.

Aris and Dysis flung themselves into the smaller recon, snapping the dome closed as quickly as possible, though they were both already soaked.

“Can you really fly in this?” Dysis hissed.

Aris didn’t look at her. She flipped on the nav panel and felt the faint hum beneath her feet as the wingjet came to life. She squeezed the controls tightly, to calm her shaking hands. The rain clattered loudly against the glass dome.

She’d been caught in weather like this once in Lux. She’d been flying along the cliffs, just playing around, when a storm blew up out of nowhere, flinging her through the air as if she were a child’s kite. At first she’d panicked and fought against the wind, fought to steady herself, to push through the wild currents of air.

And she’d almost crashed.

But a fanax had been caught in the storm as well, and through the gray, whip-fast clouds, she’d seen it, flipping and coasting
with
the wind. The bird had
let
the gusts fling it through the air, only correcting when it got too near the cliffs. And slowly, circuitously, it made its way back to the grove, to its home among the scattering leaves.

She had followed, riding the currents of the storm, until it finally blew her out behind her parents’ house, and she’d landed, legs shaking and hands, wet with terror, clinging to the controls.

“I can do this,” she told Dysis, as she slammed the helmet on her head.

At first, it was like that day on the beach. They swayed and slid through the darkness, thrown by the wind. In the black, it was harder to tell the direction of the air currents, how close they were to land, but she kept an eye on the nav panel and felt the shudder of the wingjet in her bones, telling her which way to go. Lightning lit the sky with the precision of a sat-photo; rain stood out as individual drops of light against the black, over and over as they tumbled through the dark.

Thunder boomed. The recon shivered as if it were about to rattle apart.

“Oh Gods,” Dysis whispered, her deep voice shaking. “We’re going to die.”

Aris, busy at the controls, didn’t answer.

Gradually, as they moved away from Spiro, the lightning and crashing thunder eased, though rain continued to whip against the dome of the wingjet, leaving silvery trails along the glass.

“Aristos, any damage from the storm?” Major Vidar asked over the comms.

“No, sir. We’re fine.”

Dysis grunted under her breath, disagreeing.

“You?” Aris added.

“All fine,” Lieutenant Wolfe reported. He sounded as cool and remote as ever, and she wondered what it would take to break through his impassive shell.

“ETA ten minutes, Specialist. Be on your guard. There could be enemy fire.” Major Vidar’s voice crackled, gruff but otherwise expressionless, in her ear. Dysis shifted in her seat, hands ready on the gun controls.

But as they flew over Tarik, the land beneath them and the sky around them stayed quiet. No flashes of airfire lit the night, no attack set the nav panel beeping. Even the lightning had subsided; all Aris could see were faint strikes in the distance. The only sounds were the hiss of static over the radio and Dysis’s breathing. A faint orange flickered far beneath them. Even with the rain, the village still burned.

“Sir?” Aris asked, after she’d done two loops above the village.

“Turn on your heat sensor,” came the reply.

Dysis touched the nav, and a red-purple glow filled the cabin. In the center of the village, a group of strong signals revealed the presence of the injured soldiers. Elsewhere, deep purple blobs showed the buildings that were still aflame.

“Center of the village.” Aris gave Major Vidar the coordinates.

As he commenced the retrieval, Aris circled above, scanning for any signs of the enemy. On her third pass, she noticed something on the nav screen. At the end of the far eastern row of houses, a slight hint of pink.

“Do you see that?” She pointed to the spot.

Dysis nodded. “Yeah. Looks like we missed a couple.”

“Sir, we’ve got another heat sig, to the east.”

“We’re almost done here. Stand by,” Major Vidar said.

“The heat signature’s weak, sir,” she replied.

“Hold your position.”

She followed the transport’s progress on the nav panel as Lieutenant Wolfe returned to the air, then flew down toward the house with the faint pink glow.

Vidar’s voice crackled over the radio, startling her. “Need you on the ground this time, Haan. Debris on the landing pad. There’s a small clearing behind the building, just to the south of a patch of trees. Can you make that work?”

Aris dipped toward the house, studying the topography on the nav panel. “Yes, sir.”

“The soldiers we recovered said they have two men unaccounted for. They were sent to confirm that all civilians were evacuated. We need to get them out of there.”

“Will do, sir.” Aris slid into a hover above the open space.

“Easy now,” Dysis whispered. Her hands clutched the gun controls and she kept staring out of the glass toward the ground, as if she could see through the darkness.

With a jolt, the wingjet touched down.

“Report as soon as you find the soldiers,” Major Vidar said. “We’ll look for another landing spot, where we can transfer them to the transport.”

“Understood, sir.” Aris touched the nav panel, and the dome hissed open. Taking a deep breath, she flicked a glance at Dysis. “Ready?”

Dysis nodded. They slowly emerged from the recon, solaguns held at the ready.

Cold pricks of rain stung Aris’s face. Her helmet protected her head, but the wind still tore through her clothes, leaving an icy chill. The air was thick with the smell of mud and mold.

After listening for any sign of movement, Dysis flipped on her solar-powered torch.

One side of the roof had collapsed, but the entrance was clear. The open door thudded rhythmically against the remains of the wall.

“Do you see anything?” Aris whispered as she followed Dysis into the entryroom.

The torch light flicked across a broken table streaked with rain, a mud-splattered tile floor, and what looked like shattered plates, bits of food still clinging to them.

The shiver of unease under Aris’s skin intensified. “Major Vidar, do you know if the soldiers found civilians?”

Dysis stepped further into the house, sweeping the torch before her in slow, steady arcs.

“No, but I’ll find out,” Vidar said. “Keep moving, Specialist. The signals are fading.”

Aris swallowed as she stared at the destruction; every room they walked through was torn apart, water pouring through still-smoking holes in the roof. In one, a dollhouse had fallen on its side, tiny furniture and figurines scattered across the floor.

“There,” Dysis said quietly. The light touched on another open door, with the black hole of a stairwell beyond.

A chunk of solar panel tumbled through a hole in the roof, crashing to the tile floor in a rumble of noise and water. Aris sucked in a breath and tried to keep the solagun in her hands steady. Behind her, something popped. She whirled, weapon raised, but it was only a broken lamp in its death throes, flashing and hissing in the whisper of the rain.

“Still no other heat signatures, sir?” She panned her torch back and forth, wishing the light could fill the dark corners. There were too many places where someone could hide.

“Losing the signals we do have.”

“Got my back, Mosquito?” Dysis asked, before descending into the basement.

Aris took another deep breath. “Right behind you.”

Dysis stopped so suddenly at the bottom of the stairs Aris bumped into her. “What?” she whispered. She couldn’t see past the taller girl’s shoulders.

Slowly, Dysis moved out of the way.

In the pale light of the torch, Aris saw an overturned bench. Behind it, a series of humps scattered across the floor.

“Are those . . .” Aris’s light revealed more details. Two Atalantan soldiers sprawled on the floor, face down, their legs spread straight. Behind them, a woman, her faded blue eyes wide, mouth open in a soundless scream. A man’s red-clothed arm flung out toward her. And between them, so small and pale in the shaking torchlight, a girl. She was lying on her side, as if sleeping, the front of her lovely white dress stained black with blood.

“By all that is holy . . .” Aris whispered. It was a plea, soft as a breath, painful as a scream.

Dysis moved quickly to check for pulses, to assess their wounds, but Aris stood frozen, staring at the little girl. As Dysis bent over the open, unseeing eyes, Aris felt a wave of ice crackle and snap through her, from her head to her heart to her shaking knees. She should be over there, helping . . . she needed to . . .

“We’ve landed and are heading to your location.” Major Vidar’s voice filled her head as darkness threatened to overwhelm her. “Report!”

Dysis stood from where she’d crouched by the bodies. Their eyes met.

“They’re dead, sir.” Dysis’s voice was quiet, but it didn’t shake. “Two soldiers. And . . .” She swallowed. “ . . . and a family. There’s a child, sir. No more than five years old. They were all shot in the back of the head. Recently. They’re still warm.” Light flashed along the mottled bundles of clothing. Dysis’s hand, the one that held the torch, was trembling. “They were executed, sir.”

Aris couldn’t breathe.

She stumbled up the stairs, banging her knee and bruising her hand as she tripped. With a hoarse sob, she fell out of the darkness and into the rain.

Strong arms grabbed her, hauling to her feet. She screamed.

All her training, everything she’d learned, left her. She scratched and writhed, shrieking, as she struggled to escape, tears soaking her cheeks. In that moment, everything about her that was
Aristos
broke, exposing who—and what—she really was.

Without warning, the restraining arms released her and she fell hard against the shattered tile floor. A figure loomed over her.

Major Vidar.

The flight back from Feln, where they’d delivered the surviving soldiers, was agonizing. Aris and Dysis didn’t speak. Major Vidar’s voice filled their helmets, giving details to the nearest stationpoint with the manpower to retrieve the bodies of the family and soldiers who hadn’t survived. By the time they landed at Spiro, the cloud-choked sky was easing slowly from black to gray.

Aris dropped from the recon to the tarmac on stiff legs.

“Specialist Haan, debrief. Now.” Major Vidar swept by her, heading toward the building. She fell in behind him, with a quick, panicked glance over her shoulder at Dysis, who was following slowly, Lieutenant Daakon at her side. Dysis shrugged miserably, face pale.

Aris wiped again at her face. She knew her skin was red and blotchy; not for the first time she wished the diatous veil could hide pigment as well.

Men didn’t cry.

But she had, when she’d seen those bodies. When she’d seen the blood spattered on the small face of the little girl.

Even now, the image refused to fade.

Dysis had checked the cellar for other victims. Her face had gone tight and grim, but she’d stayed in control. And Aris, she’d run weeping from the building and straight into Major Vidar’s arms.

Now he would reveal Aris’s secret, expose her for the weak, whimpering woman she was. Expose her and send her to jail.

It was over.

And the worst part? At that moment, as she followed him into the building and slumped into the chair before his desk, as he closed the door and turned to her, she didn’t care. She didn’t care about her future, or Calix, or flying. She didn’t care about anything.

Except that she’d been too late to save that little girl.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” Aris said, her voice close to breaking, as Major Vidar sat on the edge of his desk, facing her. “I didn’t expect . . . a family. And . . . and they were dead. And then I thought you were the enemy grabbing me . . . I’m sorry.” She swallowed, desperately hoping she wouldn’t cry again. How could someone shoot a person like that, so clinically? And a
child
? Two soldiers and a whole family, gone from this world. Her stomach churned and for a moment she thought she might be sick.

Major Vidar cleared his throat. This was it. When he told her he could see through her disguise. When he sent her home.

“What you saw today upset you.” It didn’t sound like a question, but he paused as if expecting an answer.

“It did, sir.” She resisted the urge to wring her hands.

Vidar leaned back slightly against his hands and studied her. “Your reaction is perfectly reasonable.”

“What?” Her eyes widened.

“The things we see in this job . . . they can turn the stomachs of the most hardened soldiers.” He stood and paced the room.

She wondered what awful things he’d seen.

“But.” He paused. “Even among the horrors of war, a soldier must do his job. And, above all, he must protect and support his team. Your sectormate, Specialist Latza. He can’t have you falling apart when it might put him in danger.”

She nodded, remembering with shame how she’d fled, how she’d cried while Vidar had barked orders at her. For the first time, she considered what could have happened if the Safaran soldiers hadn’t been gone. If they’d been lying in wait, deeper in the cellar. And she’d left Dysis there, alone.

“I know,” she murmured. “I’m so sorry, sir.”

“You’re the best flyer I have,” Vidar said, so matter-of-factly Aris hardly noticed the compliment. “I need to be able to trust that you can handle this. Can you prevail, even when faced with the kind of tragedy you saw today? If only for the safety of your team?”

The questions echoed in her mind, with the memory of the executed child.
Can I?

She grimaced. “I feel like it’s my fault, sir. We were so close, if I’d flown just a little bit faster, gotten there sooner, maybe—”

“You must fly as fast as you can, save as many as you can.” Major Vidar stopped pacing and turned to look down at her. “But you won’t be able to save them all. Can you accept that?”

She met his eyes. Their intense blue reminded her of the ocean at noon on a hot day. He looked tired, younger than he did when he stood before them in formation. As if he’d relaxed his guard, just for a moment.

Without warning, she heard another voice in her head: Dianthe’s.
You have a gift. I can’t let it go to waste. This isn’t about your mender friend, it’s about saving lives. Don’t you understand that?

And she did. She finally understood. “Yes, sir,” she said, nodding. “But I’m going to try. To save them all, I mean.”

“I won’t ever tell you not to try.” His smile was small, sad. Then he straightened, again the hardened officer. “Now, get out of here.”

Aris stood slowly, taking a second to collect herself.

Major Vidar moved behind his desk, to the monitor mounted there.

She paused at the door. “Why was the family there?” she asked. The question had been nagging her. “Wasn’t the village evacuated?”

Vidar didn’t look up from the screen. “It was. They didn’t get out in time.”

“Do . . . do you think there were other families there, sir?”

He looked up at her, his eyes softening just a hair. “Commander Nyx will debrief the team shortly. In the meantime, don’t talk to anyone about what you saw. This kind of information must be handled carefully. Ward Balias will find it more difficult to deny war crimes now that we have proof.”

But Aris wasn’t thinking about Ward Balias. She was wondering how those Safaran soldiers had stomached shooting that little girl.

They
weren’t
soldiers. They were murderers.