The Diatous Wars 1: Rebel Wing (17 page)

Commander Nyx called
an early-morning formation to announce the next mission. “We’ve received reports that a combat wingjet went down last night in a particularly hazardous portion of Mittaka. From radio transmissions, it is believed at least one of the soldiers survived. There were three men aboard. Because of the terrain and number of targets, we’ll be sending only one recon and transport jet for this mission. Haan, Lieutenant Wolfe, you’re our flyers. Latza, gunner. Galec, retriever. Stay here for briefing with Major Vidar. The rest of you are dismissed.”

Aris stood at attention as the rest of the soldiers filed back inside the building.

Please let it be Revening or Mekia this time.

She told herself that’s what mattered, finding Calix, but truthfully, she’d settle for any mender stationpoint, Calix or no Calix, if it meant the soldiers they were retrieving were still alive.

“Specialist Latza, you’ll be gunner for Lieutenant Wolfe,” Major Vidar said. “Aristos, I’ll fly with you.”

Aris flicked a glance at Dysis, surprised. It was the first time she’d been called for a mission without her sectormate as her gunner.

As Aris climbed into the recon beside him, she tried to divine the reason he’d chosen to fly with her. Did it have to do with the last mission? Was it some kind of test?

She tightened her damp palms on the controls and fought to keep her face still. She would keep it together this time. It was her job. She would do it right.

“First time out on your own?” Major Vidar asked, after they’d flown in silence for a while.

She covered her start of surprise with a shrug. “What do you mean, sir?”

“This your first time out of Lux?”

“No, sir. I’ve spent some time in Panthea as well, sir.”

“I’ve never been to Lux. You like it?”

Granite cliffs and the yellowy green of the olive groves filled her mind. She smiled. Her hands relaxed a little on the wingjet controls as she pictured the turquoise of the ocean, the loveliness of the scenery. “I love it there. It’s as beautiful as the women, sir.” Men always talked about women when they mentioned home.

“Are you Promised?”

“No, sir.” She was going to leave it at that, but heard herself saying, “I have a girl, back there. But I didn’t think it would be fair to ask her to Promise when I would be gone, not knowing when I’d return.”

“Chivalrous, Aristos,” Major Vidar said, sounding amused. “Don’t you worry she’ll decide to Promise to someone else? Or ring around?”

“Of course I—she wouldn’t do that,” she blurted, the question throwing her off. She snuck a glance at him. He’d raised an eyebrow, which pulled the scarred corner of his mouth up, accentuating his perpetual sneer. Flustered, she kept talking, “My girl . . . she’s loved me since she was twelve, sir. She told me before I left that she’d wait, no matter how long it took. She wanted to Promise.” It was strange to talk about herself this way, as if
she
were Calix.

“Ah. But you weren’t ready.” Major Vidar nodded.

“No, I was ready, sir. I just thought . . .” She didn’t like the conversation all of a sudden. “Promise is all about growing closer, learning about each other. And we couldn’t do that with me here. As soon as I get home, we’ll be together.” She could hear the defensiveness in her voice as she gave Calix’s reasons.

Major Vidar seemed oblivious to her inner turmoil. “And what is she doing, while she waits so patiently for you?”

“She’s just a village girl, sir. Works on her father’s farm.” That life seemed alien now. She could be describing a stranger. She tried to imagine going back to Lux with Calix, spending the rest of her life dusting olive groves. But all she saw was her father, leaning against an olive tree, smiling, hand up to shade his eyes as he stared along the line of softly rustling leaves.

That was
his
place, not hers.

Without warning, tears built behind her eyes. She fought them back, refusing to explore the tangle of feelings clogging her throat. This wasn’t the time. Major Vidar wouldn’t be so understanding if she got emotional now, with no dead bodies or danger threatening.

“And what about you, sir?” she asked, pushing back just a little. “Are you married?”

Major Vidar laughed, but the sound had a bitter edge. “Not even close.” He shifted in the small jet, his shoulder brushing hers. “You know what they say about women and scars, Aristos?”

She had no idea. “Yes, sir.”

“Don’t believe it. More frightening than appealing, I’ve found.”

She snuck a glance at the pink line that ran along his pale skin. Personally, she thought it was neither frightening nor appealing. More . . . intriguing. She cleared her throat and returned her eyes to the nav panel.

He sat up and pressed the button on his helmet. “Lieutenant Wolfe, I’ve got a lock on the location. Going in for a closer look. Stand by.”

“Standing by, sir,” Wolfe’s voice scratched over Aris’s headset. At Major Vidar’s order, she dove and glided closer to the tree line. Vidar switched on the heat-seeking setting on the nav panel.

Below them a carpet of trees rippled along curving ridges, the remains of ancient roads peeking through the green in twists of pale gray. A flash caught Aris’s eye. At first she thought it was a missile, but her nav panel didn’t go crazy, and Major Vidar didn’t react.

“Did you see that, sir?” She dipped lower and turned to make another pass.

“What?” He looked intently out the window.

“A light—there.” She pointed right in front of them and slowed further to get a better look.

A rocky hill emerged from the trees, an umber island in an ocean of green. Upon the hill two small figures jumped up and down. One of them held something that flashed.

“They’re signaling us, sir!” She halted their forward movement and hovered, slowly losing altitude. “Shall I land?”

Major Vidar stared at the men, eyes narrowed. “No. They’re gesturing toward the trees, perhaps toward their downed wingjet.” He pressed the button on his helmet, “Lieutenant, we have visual confirmation of the target.” He gave the coordinates. “Commence retrieval. Haan and I are going to try to find their jet; still one soldier unaccounted for.”

He turned to her. “Can you see the direction they’re pointing? To the West.”

“Yes, sir.” She tipped her wing at the men, to acknowledge their message, then wheeled away in the direction they’d indicated.

“Do you think their comrade is still alive, sir?” she asked as they flew over the trees, looking for signs of the crash.

“He survived the landing, at least. Those men wouldn’t be sending us elsewhere unless they believed he was still alive. But he’s injured, or he’d be with them.”

“Sir, why wouldn’t the Safaran soldiers who shot them down go after them?” Just the thought gave her chills. According to Commander Nyx, they’d gone house by house in Tarik, executing anyone who wasn’t able to evacuate in time.

“It’s possible they did but couldn’t find them in the rough terrain. Or they assumed there would be no survivors.”

“That’s lucky, sir.”

His voice took on a stern edge. “Luck has nothing to do with it, Aristos. Whatever they did, it was a tactical decision. And we’ve made our own choices in response.”

Another reflection caught her eye. “Sir, I see something.” As she pointed, a red splotch bloomed on the nav panel.

He peered down at the wreckage as Aris did a sweep.

The downed wingjet had dug into the side of a hill; the ground was black and bleeding where the jet had ripped through the forest. There was the narrow, churned-up path through the trees, but no larger clearing.

“Do you think you can land there?” he asked.

She tipped her wings and skimmed along the tops of the trees to get a better look. Without answering, she straightened and manipulated the pedals. Soon they were hovering, and she smoothly took them down. At the last minute, she made a slight adjustment to account for a deep groove through the cleared dirt.

When they were on the ground, she released the glass hatch and climbed out onto the wing.

“Weapon,” Major Vidar barked.

She pulled her solagun from its holster. It still felt awkward in her hands. They climbed down to the broken earth and made their way to the wreckage.

A great sooty gouge marred the silver side of the jet, and one wing bent unnaturally against the hill. Aris didn’t see the third soldier. Her stomach tightened, remembering the sight of the family in Tarik, the little girl’s white dress stained with blood.
Please let him be alive
.

Major Vidar waved her closer and went to inspect the cockpit. The glass had spidery cracks along its domed surface, so it was hard to see inside.

Suddenly, with a hiss, it slid open.

“You the cavalry?” a hoarse voice asked.

The words were followed by a cough. Aris let out a relieved breath. Major Vidar leaned into the cockpit to inspect its occupant. “Identify yourself.”

“Lieutenant Illias Santos, sir. You are?”

“Major Vidar and Specialist Haan. Search and Rescue. We’ve come to retrieve you. Do you know the extent of your injuries?”

The man coughed again. “Maybe some internal bleeding, broken rib. Broken leg, and a pretty nasty bump on the head. I can’t walk, so my comrades went to find help.”

“Aristos, get up on the wing there. We’re going to make a chair with our arms and lift him out. Understand?”

She nodded, mouth dry.

She positioned herself on the upper wing, so Vidar would have to support more weight as they were lifting Lieutenant Santos down. All the physical training had strengthened her arms and legs, but she was still weak compared to him.

Santos hissed when Aris slid her arm under his leg. After a moment, Major Vidar grabbed her hand. Her other arm went behind the Lieutenant’s back, linking with Vidar’s. There was no time to worry about how large or “manly” her hands felt to him. She was desperately afraid that her palms would sweat and her grip would slip, that they’d drop Lieutenant Santos and cause him even more pain. She took a deep breath and tried not to look at the blood.
You can do this
, she coached herself, saying the words over and over in her mind like a prayer.

“On three.” Major Vidar said. Santos put his arms across their shoulders; his fingers bit into the flesh at the base of her neck. Vidar nodded at him. “You ready? This will probably hurt.”

Lieutenant Santos tensed. Through clenched teeth, he said, “Get me the blighting hell out of here.”

“One. Two. Three.”

They lifted.

Santos screamed.

Once, when Aris was much younger, a donkey had fallen from one of Lux’s cliffs. It had broken its back but hadn’t died. For hours it screamed, until men from the village could get to it and put it out of its misery. The sound had given her nightmares for months.

This was worse.

Her knees wobbled. She almost dropped Santos, but Major Vidar tightened his grip on her hands and kept pulling. Through the noise, he said, “We have to keep going. If we don’t, he’ll die.”

With a final heave, they freed his legs and lifted him from the cockpit. At that moment Santos slumped, his head rolling back and the inhuman scream gurgling to silence.

“Is he dead?” Aris asked, panicked.

Major Vidar waited until she could get her feet on the wing nearest the ground. They stepped down slowly. “No. Just unconscious. It’s a mercy.”

She couldn’t help but agree. Slowly they hauled the limp body to the jet.

“Sir, where will Lieutenant Wolfe land?” She was out of breath and the words came out raspy and quiet.

“He won’t. Santos is going in the recon.” He heaved himself onto the wing and she had no choice but to follow, Santos lolling against her.

“But sir? The jet’s only equipped for two passengers. With the weight of three, I don’t know if—”

“I’m not going back with you.”

“You’re not?”

As gently as they could, they lowered the Lieutenant into the seat.

Aris released Major Vidar’s hands and slid her arms free. Immediately they ached as blood rushed back into them. She rubbed her wrists and stared at him in alarm.

Vidar reached behind his seat and grabbed a pack she hadn’t noticed before. He clapped her on the shoulder then hopped down from the wing. “Reconnaissance mission. Solo. Commander knows.” He glanced back at her. “Good work today, Aristos. Now, get Lieutenant Santos to Revening. Call it in to Lieutenant Wolfe. Until I get back, he’s in command.”

Aris watched him walk into the woods, her mouth open. He was going to hike off into the forest, just like that?

A groan from her injured passenger got her moving. She ran to the other side of the wingjet and slipped into her seat, closing the glass shield. She swept her hand over the display to start the jet, then pressed the button on her helmet. “Lieutenant Wolfe, this is Specialist Haan. Major Vidar and I retrieved the third soldier. I have him ready to transport to Revening. Major Vidar said he had a solo mission to complete?” She ended the sentence as a question.

With a crackle, Wolfe replied, “Message received. We’ve retrieved the other soldiers. Taking off now. You can follow us to Revening.”

She pulled slowly on the controls, and the wingjet rose. When she was clear of the trees, she glanced at Lieutenant Santos. His helmet had fallen off, and the bump on his forehead was oozing blood. Accelerating in a wide arc, she headed in the direction she’d come from. Ahead, she could see the transport. She tapped the nav panel and adjusted her flight path to match the other wingjet’s. Soon, they were speeding through the air.

Revening
. Would Calix be there?

Oh Gods, what if he was?

“So what is it, really?” Lieutenant Santos’s cracked voice made Aris jump.

“What, sir?”

“What’s your real name?”

She glanced at him in surprise. His eyes were open, and he was clutching his side. “What do you mean, sir?”

Santos shook his head. The movement made him cough. “Aristos is a man’s name,” he said gruffly. “And you’re no man.”

For a long
moment, Aris couldn’t breathe. The wingjet’s wing tipped. With an effort she got it under control.

Finally, she whispered, “Don’t tell.”

Lieutenant Santos laughed. Aris looked at him, and he bent his head, revealing his Military brand. In the bright sunlight streaming into the cockpit it glittered faintly.

Aris gasped. “Wait. Are
you
 . . . ?”

“Illiana Santos. At your service.” The soldier coughed.

“How did you know?” It was the first coherent thought that came to mind.

“When I put my arm around your neck I could feel your veil. You should be more careful.”

Aris blushed and reached back to touch the device self-consciously. “I was a little busy trying to save your life, sir. Uh, ma’am?”

“Sir is fine,” Illiana said, amused. “I only told you because you have to help me get to a specific mender at Revening.”

“Of course.” Aris was struck with a sudden thought. “Is his name—I mean, what’s his name?”

“Zaro. Why?”

Oh well. She’d have been more surprised if Illiana
had
said Calix. “It’s nothing. A . . . friend . . . from my village is a field mender. I was hoping we would meet sometime.”

“At Revening?”

“Maybe. I’m not sure.”

“His name?”

“Calix Pavlos.” Aris held her breath.

Illiana cocked her head. “I’ve never heard of him. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t there. Revening is a big stationpoint. Where else have you tried? Mekia’s close.”

Aris’s heart knocked wildly against her rib cage, creating a seasick feeling in the pit of her stomach. She took a couple slow breaths through her mouth, willing her heart rate to slow.

“Haven’t been to Mekia. I haven’t actually been to many mender points yet.” Oh Gods, she could see Calix today. What would she do—say—when they met? Would he recognize her? Suddenly, she really did feel sick.

Illiana reached out to pat her arm and winced. “Don’t worry. You’ll find him.” She leaned back and took a couple deep breaths.

“I can’t believe . . . you’re really a woman?” Aris asked. Her hands were starting to shake.
Focus on the mission. Don’t think about Calix.

Illiana’s laugh came out as a hiss. “Silly question. I think you meant to ask why. ‘Why are you in Military, Illiana? Why are you here in this blighting hellhole with your bone sticking out of your leg?’”

Aris swallowed. She hadn’t seen the bone. She forced herself not to look. “So, why?”

“Because I got selected Commerce.
Me
. The tallest, ugliest girl in my year. I’d have been stuck running numbers for a store, or stocking shelves. All the good Commerce placements go to the pretty ones. The only thing I’m good at besides calculations is flying. And flying is a
lot
more fun.”

“So you just joined because you wanted to be a flyer?”

“There are more of us than you think. The dominion will never openly admit it, but women make the best flyers. They recruited me. My unit has two other female flyers as well.” Illiana’s breathing was ragged, the words dragging more and more slowly from her chest.

“How long have you been doing this?” Aris asked lightly, trying to mask her alarm.
Keep her talking. Keep her awake.

“Two and a half years, since just after the war began.”

“That long?” Aris’s mind reeled. “What did you tell your family? Don’t they wonder why you never visit?”

“I’m not close to my family.” Illiana winced and shifted, her face going deathly pale.

“Does it bother you?” Aris asked, thinking of all the lies she’d told. “That you have to be in disguise? That you don’t get to be yourself?”

“It’s not a disguise for me. This is who—” Illiana coughed, sounding for a moment as if she was choking, “—I am.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Aris asked, glancing worriedly at her passenger. “You don’t sound—”

“Just get me to Zaro,” Illiana said on a groan. “Fast. I think I’m going to pass out again.”

Aris flew the rest of the way in silence, her heart pounding.

•••

Aris landed the wingjet as smoothly as she could. Illiana was still unconscious, and her breathing had become a strange gurgling. Each time it hitched in her throat, Aris’s stomach clenched.

After opening the dome, she stepped out onto the wing and jumped to the ground. Lieutenant Wolfe had just landed. Soldiers were filing from his transport: Dysis and Galec, and the two rescued men. They rushed to her recon.

“How is he?” one of them asked. He was slight, not much taller than Aris, but his head was large and boorish, with heavy dark brows and a bulbous nose. He had two broken teeth; the stumps were still there, jagged and yellow.

She glanced up at Illiana, slumped against the side of the wingjet. “I don’t know. He needs a mender as soon as possible. He asked to see someone called Zaro. Can you find him?”

Just then a flood of white-robed menders and assistants spilled from the long, windowless building that lined the landing pad. Revening was much larger than Spiro, and the buildings were older, just a single story, their flat roofs covered with massive solar panels.

The first mender to arrive at the wingjet was tall with a narrow face and golden eyebrows. “What have we got?” he asked, jumping on the wing to inspect Illiana.

“Are you Zaro, sir?” Aris asked.

“No.” The blond mender didn’t look at her; he was too busy inspecting Illiana’s injuries.

“He asked for Zaro specifically, sir,” she said, taking a step closer to the recon. What would she do if they didn’t respect Illiana’s wishes? How could she protect her?

“Move aside,” came a voice from behind her. Through the crowd, which, in its controlled chaos, was efficiently arranging a stretcher and various machines in preparation for moving Illiana, a man wove until he was standing at her side. “He asked for Zaro?” the man asked, voice pitched low.

She nodded, staring at him. As he lifted himself up on the winget, Aris couldn’t help but notice his arched brows and smooth skin, the graceful way his body flowed into place.

The blond mender helped Zaro shift Illiana onto the med-bed. She didn’t wake, didn’t make that horrible noise she had when Aris and Major Vidar had moved her. Aris took this as a bad sign.

She pushed around the broken-toothed soldier, who still stood beside her, and hurried to Zaro’s side. The throng was breaking up now that Illiana was on the stretcher and hooked into a small collection of beeping, wheeled machines.

“Let me come with you.” She hated the paleness of Illiana’s skin, beneath the blood. “I have information on h—his injuries.”

Zaro glanced at her, still steadily pushing the stretcher toward the hissing glass door of the stationpoint. Whatever he saw in her expression made him nod. He moved Illiana into a small room with pale yellow walls at the end of the first long hallway.

When Zaro had shut the door behind them, he moved to Illiana’s side and got to work.

“Are you a woman, too?” Aris asked quietly.

Zaro didn’t look up from the patient. There was a quiet hiss as the medigun he held released its contents into Illiana’s arm.

“So you know that much about the Lieutenant,” he said.

“I won’t tell.”

“Of course you won’t,” he said. “You have your own secret.”

“Is it so obvious?”

“If you know.” Zaro glanced up and met her eyes. “If you’re looking.” Then he reached behind Illiana’s head with gentle, precise fingers and released her veil. The flyer’s face melted, reformed. In the end, she didn’t look that different. Her features were harsh, her jaw blunt. She wasn’t, as she said, beautiful.

Zaro moved to the wall by the door and pressed a button. “Caldi, Dex. Room Fourteen. Now.” He turned to Aris. “Time for you to go.”

Aris looked one last time at the still figure on the bed. “Will she be okay?”

“There’s a lot of damage, and she’s lost a lot of blood. Give me an hour to know for certain, but I believe she’ll live.”

The door opened, and two assistants filed into the room.

Aris was almost in the hall before she remembered.
Gods, how could I have forgotten?

“Zaro?” she asked. The three were already flitting around the bed, white cloths turning red with blood, machines beeping and sucking and shooshing.

“Yes?” he said, without looking up.

“Is there a mender named Calix Pavlos here?”

“No,” came the answer, before she had time to hold her breath.

She nodded, then closed the door behind her. Dazed, she followed the green glowing signs to the lobby.

No Calix. But Illiana would probably live, all because Aris had gotten her here in time.