The Diatous Wars 1: Rebel Wing (19 page)

The trees outside
Pyralis’s office whipped back and forth in the wind. Heavy storm clouds darkened the sky, but it hadn’t started raining yet.

Standing by the wall of glass, Pyralis watched Kellan’s reflection pace back and forth. His anxious energy and wild hair made him look like he’d been struck by lightning.

“The heads of the other sectors want you to call a meeting,” Kellan said. “They need reassurance we’re doing everything we can. And the Tech sector has several new weapons at the final stages of development. We could—”

“Set up the meeting with the sector leaders.” Pyralis didn’t turn around. “And another one with the head of Tech. We need to get those new products to our soldiers as soon as possible.”

Kellan’s reflection nodded as he made notes on his digitablet. “Also, troop strength is weakening in the Mittaka region. Do you want to redistribute several units from along the Fex?”

Pyralis sighed. “I suppose we’ll have to. But send word to the riverside villages that their protective details—fire fighters, law enforcers, all of them—should report for combat training. We need them to be ready if Safaran forces break through our defenses. And send an extra squadron of wingjets to patrol the river.”

“Got it,” Kellan replied, tapping furiously on his tablet.

“Contact my most senior commanders. Move up our next scheduled vid call to tomorrow. That’s all, Kellan. Thank you.”

Silence met Pyralis’s words. He turned; his assistant still hovered in the center of the room, running his hand through his already-disheveled hair. “What is it?”

“We’ve had reports that Ward Vadim is doing more than funneling resources into Safara,” Kellan said, his furrowed brow betraying his reluctance to impart yet more bad news. “It’s still unconfirmed, but it appears she’s also provided them with a small supply of weaponry.”

Pyralis fought the urge to bang his forehead against the wall of glass. “A small supply? What does that mean?”

After Kellan explained and exited the room, Pyralis sank into his chair. The reality of the situation—that Galena had completely turned against him—was more than he could bear. He thought back to when she’d wanted to start a life with him. Their secret, stolen romance so sweet and unexpected.

But, inevitably, he always returned to the same memory. The moment he regretted more than any other in his life.

They’d taken a holiday to the mountains just before he was scheduled to return to Atalanta. On their last evening, he’d walked up to the overlook outside the retreat to think. He’d known what he had to do, but the thought of leaving her, never seeing her again, had been eating at him for months. Now, with the moment at hand, he wasn’t sure he could go through with it.

He’d stood at the edge of the overlook, studying the craggy points of the mountains dip in and out of a wispy line of cloud. Wondering what he could possibly say to Galena. How he could possibly say goodbye.

The sun sank along the edge of the furthest peak, gilding the snow that blanketed the valley below. Behind him, Galena called his name.

He had turned as she walked toward him. She was bundled in a white coat, the fur-lined hood framing her beautiful face. When she smiled at him, her ice-blue eyes glowed as if filled with the soft warmth of prayer candles.

He couldn’t remember the words he’d chosen to break her heart. But he’d never forget how that light in her eyes had died.

Sorry it’s taken me so long to write, Aris. There was another raid and we’ve been busy picking up the pieces. I wish I had good news, I wish I could say I enjoy patching people up, that the number of injured soldiers is dwindling, but it would be a lie. The truth is I’m exhausted. I’ve seen so many faces over the past months, so much blood. Every time I let myself think we’ll have a reprieve, there won’t be any violence for a while, another explosion lights up the horizon. And the bodies follow.

I miss you. Before I fall asleep, I always think of you, pretend you’re resting in my arms with your hair spread across my chest. As soon as I get home, you’re going to get us one of your father’s mangoes, and we’re going to sit on the beach and watch the sunset and eat mango until our faces and hands are sticky. I haven’t had fresh fruit in weeks.

I love you, Mosquito. Must go now. It never ends.

Aris stared at the words on her digitablet. Her fingers were poised to type a reply, but she didn’t know where to begin. She didn’t know how to quiet the guilt that welled up in her heart each time she read his words.

She had dreamt of Major Vidar again, just last night. And each day she had to stand in formation, fly missions with him, sitting there in the cabin of her wingjet, the fabric of his uniform brushing hers.

“Specialists, report to the gym. Now.” Major Vidar’s voice made her leap halfway out of her chair. She glanced up at him and immediately looked away, her cheeks burning.

“Yes, sir,” she murmured with the others. She tapped the screen of her digitablet; she’d have to write Calix later.

The unit convened in the old sock-scented room Aris had entered her first night at the stationpoint. As usual, she was stuck at the front of formation with the other short men. Major Vidar stood before her, along with Lieutenants Daakon and Talon.

She snuck a glance at Vidar. Why
him
, of all the soldiers she could have dreamed about? She still didn’t understand it. Looking at him, at his pale skin, icy blue eyes, and the scar that ran along his cheek, at the sharp edges of his nose and jaw, the pale gold of his eyebrows, she didn’t find him handsome. He was well-muscled, a fierce fighter in hand-to-hand, as she’d seen often enough in training. But not handsome. Still, she thought, there
was
something . . . arresting about his features. If he was in the room, it was hard to look at anyone else.

“Tech sector’s come up with a new weapon,” Vidar began. “It’s unlikely it will be of particular use to us, given its nature, but we’ll be training with it and supplying each of you with one on all future missions.”

He held up a thin round item, about the diameter of a stylus but longer, with pointed ends. It gleamed silver in the dim light. “This is a sythin. It works like a tranq, incapacitating rather than killing. But it works only in close quarters. You have to press this button—” He twisted it so everyone could see the small round knob on the side of the smooth metal, “—and hold the weapon against your enemy’s body to activate it.”

A few murmurs rumbled through the men. “How the blighting hell do we get close enough to use that without getting our damn heads blown off?” someone said, loud enough for Aris to hear. The tone of the whispers suggested this was the general consensus.

“Enough!” Major Vidar said, restoring silence to the room. “As I said, because of the mechanics and purpose of the weapon, it may not be useful to us in the field. But there’s some indication it could sedate injured victims for transport without causing harm.”

Lieutenant Talon flipped the lid off of a chrome box in the corner of the room. “Divide into pairs. We’ll demonstrate how much pressure you’ll need in order to make a contact with your target and which locations provide the easiest access, but you will
not
activate the weapons. I don’t want any unconscious soldiers on my floor.”

Daakon and Talon passed out the sythins. Aris and Dysis took their familiar positions across from one another, weighing the unfamiliar devices in their hands.

“Seems kind of pointless, no?” Dysis murmured, brandishing her sythin.

Aris twirled hers from hand to hand, thinking of the agonized sounds Lieutenant Santos made when they’d lifted her from the wingjet. If they’d been able to safely knock her out first . . . “As a weapon, maybe,” she said. “But Major Vidar is right. For injured victims, I could see a use.”

“Specialist Haan, please put your sythin down.” Major Vidar’s sudden presence at her elbow caused a sudden shock to run through her.

Aris dropped the sythin as if scalded.

Major Vidar gazed skyward in obvious exasperation. “I said
put
. As in place carefully on the floor. Not fling down as if it’s going to bite you.”

Aris stared at her boots. “Sorry, sir.”

Without warning, he grabbed her arms, raising them until they shot straight out from her sides. The heat of his fingers seeped through her uniform. When he let go, she stood frozen. He turned to Dysis. “Specialist Latza. As I run through the best contact points, I’d like you to demonstrate on Haan.” He glanced around the room. “Watch carefully, everyone.”

First, he tapped Aris’s neck with the side of his hand. Blood rushed to her face. He was so close, touching her, and all she saw was his faint scar, the soft fullness of his lips, while those
damn
dreams played over in her mind.

“The juncture of neck and shoulder is your best option,” he said. “The sythin works through clothing, but it’s most effective if you can make direct contact with skin.”

He had Dysis jab the sythin at Aris’s neck, cheek, armpit, belly, tapping each place himself first. Aris stood, arms wide, in an agony of anxiety. What if, this close, he noticed the subtle shimmer of the diatous veil? Worse, what if he noticed the way her pulse raced under her skin every time he touched her?

•••

When Aris knocked over her boots, dropped her digitablet, and misplaced her jacket in quick succession while getting ready for bed, Dysis’s voice broke the silence. “What’s with you?”

“Nothing. Sorry. I’m just clumsy tonight.” Aris flopped onto her cot, half-dressed.

“You’ve been on edge for days. Your hand-to-hand has regressed so much Wolfe is ready to throttle you.” Dysis sat on her own cot, facing Aris. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Aris dropped her eyes to her hands and slowly finished slipping her sleep tunic over her head. What could she say? That every time Major Vidar barked an order, her dreams invaded her mind? That she was haunted by the memory—the fantasy—of his warm hands against her skin, even now? She rocketed to her feet. “I need to go for a run.”

Dysis widened her eyes. “It’s lights out in ten minutes. You can’t run now.”

Aris paced to the door and back, stopping before the cubby that housed her few belongings. Staring down at the pocked wood, she willed her heart rate to slow.

“Do you and Daakon still ‘talk’?” Aris blurted out.

Dysis didn’t answer right away. “Not the way you mean. He hasn’t spoken a word to me beyond orders since you walked in on us.”

“I’m sorry.” Aris leaned against the wall. “What I said that night . . . I didn’t mean . . .”

Dysis shrugged, eyes down. “It’s for the best. You were right. There isn’t any future for us, and it was dangerous, getting close to him.” Her deep voice wobbled a little. “It’s better this way.”

“And Jax?”

“Daakon doesn’t know anything. Maybe if he hears something he’ll still tell me.” She sounded so sad Aris wanted to give her a hug, but she sensed Dysis wouldn’t welcome it.

“Still. I’m sorry about what I said that night. It wasn’t my place.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

Aris moved back to the bed and sat on its edge. She lowered her voice to just above a whisper. “I’ve had a few dreams about Major Vidar.” She couldn’t look Dysis in the eye.

“Okay.”

“We were . . . kissing.”

When Dysis gasped, Aris looked up. And almost laughed at her sectormate’s hungry, knowing look. It was a distinctly
Echo
expression. With a gruff squeal, Dysis moved to sit next to her on the bed. “Tell me everything.”

“You know I’m talking about a
dream
, right?”

“Of course. Sorry. I just haven’t felt like a girl in a really long time.” Dysis smiled wistfully.

“Me either,” Aris replied, some of the tension in her shoulders easing.

“So, what happened?”

“Well, in one, we were on a mission. It was just us, and he was asking all these strange questions . . .”

“About?”

Aris cleared her throat. “Well, about Calix. And me. I mean, he was asking about my ‘girl back home.’ But I was thinking about Calix.”

“And?” Dysis tucked her legs up and leaned close, practically bouncing on the cot.

“And . . . um . . . then we were kissing. That’s all.” A blush rose in Aris’s cheeks.

Dysis leaned back on her hands and sighed.

“What do
you
think it means?” Her stomach still twisted at the memory. “I’ve been walking around feeling so blighting guilty.”

Dysis giggled, which, with her low male voice, came out sounding disconcertingly like the grinding of gears. “Well, I don’t blame your subconscious one bit. Major Vidar is luscious.”

Aris grunted. “You’re not helping.”

Her eyes turned serious. “It doesn’t mean anything, Mosquito, except that you’re a human being with feelings. Calix has been gone a long time. And you’re a woman stuck with nothing but men all day.”

Aris snorted. That was no excuse.

“Just because we look like them doesn’t mean we’re not still women underneath.” Dysis pursed her lips, and the skin around her eyes tightened. “I’ve dreamt about Daakon many times.”

“Then why didn’t I dream about Calix?” Aris asked, voice rising. “I should be dreaming about
him
, not . . .” She couldn’t bring herself to say his name.

“You dreamt of Major Vidar because he shouted at us at the end of training those days and he was on your mind. Or because you flew with him?” Dysis waved a hand. “Believe me, you haven’t been unfaithful to Calix.”

Aris relaxed slightly at her words. “I’ve never thought about Major like that before.”

Still, she was troubled. It wasn’t just the dreams, really, if she was honest with herself. Over the past few weeks, she’d been so consumed by their missions, so busy flying for Major Vidar, she’d hardly thought of Calix at all.

“What if I’ve changed too much?” she whispered, more to herself than Dysis. She ran a hand along her shaved head. “When Calix finally sees me, when I explain . . .” Gods, it could go so badly. “How much of what he loves about me is left?”

Dysis caught her eye. “You
have
changed. It could always be you who doesn’t want him anymore.”

Just then the lights went out.

“Go to sleep, Aris,” Dysis said.

But she couldn’t. Not for a long time.