The Diatous Wars 1: Rebel Wing (21 page)

Aris awoke to
a raging headache. Her fingers shook as she touched them to the tender spot at the base of her skull, just above her veil, from which the pain radiated. When she returned her hand to her lap, it was sticky with blood.

She tipped up her helmet, which had jammed itself over her forehead, blinked a couple of times, and made the hazy observation that she could still see. Night was just beginning to ease into dawn.

What happened
? Some instinct cautioned her not to say the words aloud, not to draw attention to herself.

A small noise sounded to her right. She turned her head. The pounding at the base of her skull increased, and she shifted her shoulders in an attempt to lessen the pain.

Beside her, Major Vidar breathed shallowly, his eyes closed. A gash on his forehead, just below the rim of his helmet, sheeted blood.

Sickness roiled through her belly. “Sir?”

He didn’t respond.

She shifted again, carefully, to look out the hole of twisted metal and shattered glass that had once been the wingjet’s dome. The memory flashed again before her. The concussion of explosions as the night lit with fire. The screech of metal as they tore into the ravine wall. The coppery smell of blood. The wingjet was facing into the cliff wall; she couldn’t get a clear view of their location. She tapped on the nav screen, but it didn’t power on. No way to tell if or where their enemy lurked. Or call for reinforcements.

After taking a couple deep breaths, she wiped her shaking hands against her knees. A glance at Major Vidar told her he hadn’t moved but was still breathing.

“We’ve got to get someplace safe,” she whispered. She nudged Vidar’s arm. Nothing.

She reached out and yanked on the manual release for the dome. Praying that there were no Safaran soldiers waiting, weapons ready, she listened to the hiss as the remains of the shield slid back.

Cautiously, she twisted to look around. The wingjet had landed more or less on its belly. It listed slightly toward the shallow stream at the bottom of the canyon. Several yards away, its missing wing had pierced the muddy ground, stabbing into the air. A monument to destruction.

When she turned to look the other way, toward the north end of the ravine, she gasped.

Wolfe’s wingjet.

She glanced around once more, ears strained for footsteps or the skitter of rocks down the ravine wall. The steep red-clay cliffs would be difficult to navigate, but it was only a matter of time before those Safaran soldiers came looking for them.

Ignoring the pounding of her head, she scrambled out of her seat and stumbled onto land. Solagun at the ready, she made her way toward the transport.

“Lieutenant Wolfe? Galec?” she called as she approached the wingjet. The jet was on its side, wedged into the wall of the cliff. It was still smoking trails of wispy gray that twisted up into the lightening sky and burned her nose.

“Lieutenant Talon?” She slowed, her steps dragging. A bird cried far above, and the sudden noise made her jump. She stared up at the rim of the canyon, where the missiles had come from, but saw no movement.

With a deep breath, she wiped an edge of the cracked glass of the shield and looked inside the cabin.

Galec stared up at her with one perfect, lifeless eye. The rest of his face was gone.

Wolfe and Talon, slumped beside him, were just two blackened husks.

Aris turned away, stumbling, and fell to her knees. Hands down, she retched into the shallow, sun-warmed water that wended its way through the canyon.

She closed her eyes, heaving, sobbing, wishing she hadn’t looked, wishing she could go back, erase the last months of her life.

Erase everything.

“It’s not worth it, it was never worth it,” she mumbled, the vision of Galec’s demolished face static and endless in her mind.

The skitter of kicked pebbles caught her attention. She froze. Without taking a breath, she moved into a crouch and worked her way along the shadow of the wingjet. A moment later, two black-uniformed soldiers rounded its nose.

Before she had time to think, she was shooting, the solagun clenched in both hands.

The two soldiers went down without a word, their faces drawn into grimaces of surprise and pain.

Still she kept shooting, blind with horror and sick with rage.

Eventually the solagun ran out of power. She didn’t look at the soldiers, didn’t wait to see if more were coming.

Instead, she ran.

When Aris reached
the recon, Major Vidar was still unconscious. She watched his chest rise and fall for a long moment as she panted and tried not to pass out.

They were the only two still alive.

But just because she saw no sign of other Safaran soldiers didn’t mean they weren’t there. She needed someplace safer, away from the jet, but she wouldn’t be able to carry Major Vidar very far. She looked around, squinting in the glare of sunlight that had found its way to the base of the ravine. A few hundred yards away, she spotted a darker shadow along the canyon wall. A cave, maybe?

Aris scrambled onto the wing next to Vidar and shook his shoulder, more roughly this time. “Major!” she yelled, voice hoarse and throat burning.

A soft, pained moan left his lips, but he didn’t open his eyes.

She yanked her pack and the aid kit from behind his seat and carried them to the darkness along the wall of the cliff. It was indeed a cave. It wasn’t tall—she had to duck to avoid hitting her head—but the narrow opening went deep into the hill. It wasn’t much of a hiding place, but it would have to do.

Aris stumbled back to the jet and shook Major Vidar again. Blood still flowed from the wound on his head; she couldn’t tell if he had any other injuries.

She stood back and looked at him, at his long arms and legs. He was so tall. How the blighting hell was she going to get him into the cave?

Taking a deep breath, she grabbed his arm and pulled until she could wedge her neck under his armpit. With a grunt she hauled him over her shoulder. When she stepped back along the wing to pull his legs free, his weight overbalanced her. She tried to keep her footing, tried to keep from falling, but he was too heavy, as inert as an enormous sack of donkey feed. His legs slid out of the jet and they both tumbled off the wing onto the muddy ground.

For a long time, Aris lay on her back, gasping. Major Vidar had fallen on her and knocked all the breath from her lungs.

With a groan, she sat up, head throbbing. Major Vidar lay on his side, half in the muddy water and half draped across her legs. His breathing was shallow. She worked her legs free and stood, knees shaking, to look down at him.

Now what?

It took longer than she could have imagined, but eventually, through a combination of dragging, rolling, and heaving, she got him to the mouth of the cave. They were both filthy, covered in sweat, blood, and the slime of the stream bed. She got him into the shade of the cave, where the air was cooler. He still hadn’t woken; she wouldn’t let herself entertain the thought that he might never wake.

Flopping beside his body, she drew off her helmet and let it fall to the ground. She knew she had to clean Vidar’s wound, inspect him for other injuries. But for a moment, she just breathed.

When her hands stopped trembling, Aris rose and peered from the mouth of the cave, again searching the ravine floor and cliff edges for signs of Safaran soldiers. Aside from a pair of birds skimming the breeze above and a small brown lizard skittering along the edge of the stream, there was no movement. No sound, save for the tittering of the birds and the distant burble of running water. Cautiously she emerged, gripping her empty canteen like a talisman.

To the south, she could hear a distant rushing. When she’d flown over the canyon, the glowing green nav map had indicated a waterfall, with a large pool of water at its base. She headed that direction, keeping to the shadows along the canyon wall. Her eyes flickered constantly across the open space, but she didn’t look behind her, didn’t let her eyes fall on the transport.

The sound of the waterfall grew louder until it filled her head. When she came to the pool, she kept walking until the cold water had reached her chest. The icy liquid revealed cuts and scrapes she didn’t know she had; they burned as the water flowed against them. She dipped her head beneath the surface, washing the bile and sweat from her face and the blood from the back of her neck. When she emerged, her teeth were chattering but she felt clean once more.

Aris filled the canteen and walked slowly back to the cave, her cold, wet uniform dragging against her. The sun beat down on her aching skull; the warmth seeped into her skin but couldn’t entirely kill the chill.

Major Vidar was lying where she’d left him. She removed his helmet carefully then used her wet jacket to wipe the blood from his face and neck and the gash on his forehead. They’d had basic aid training, so she knew what to do to disinfect and dress the wound. When she was finished, she propped him up on her arm and got him to swallow some water from the canteen, though he didn’t fully wake.

All the while she listened, waiting for the sounds of enemy soldiers. Once, she heard a scream and shot to her feet, banging her head on the curved roof of the cave, but the sound warbled into a howl as it faded. And then, quite close, a rustle as the animal scurried after its prey.

When she noticed her hands shaking, she dragged herself to the pack and removed a pouch of nutrigel. It tasted vaguely like cherries and slid down her throat like oil, but her hands steadied once the nutrients reached her stomach.

All through the day, Aris watched the rise and fall of Major Vidar’s chest, stared at the pale scar that ran from his eye to his lip, studied the wide white bandage circling his head. As the sun slid toward the horizon, she replaced the wrapping, now dotted with blood, and poured more water into his mouth.

She wondered when they would be rescued. If they would be rescued. Would Commander Nyx tell Dysis that the mission had been unsuccessful? Her stomach clenched. And she remembered, for the first time, that faint pink blob at the northern end of the ravine. Had that really been Jax? Was he still there?

The questions ran like dogs in her head, chasing their tails and finding no resolution.

Aris was sipping from the canteen and staring intently out at the shadows lengthening along the ravine floor, watching for movement, when a hoarse cough broke the silence.

Aris spun around and smiled with relief to see Major Vidar’s eyes open, his piercing gaze locked on her face. “Who the hell are you?” he demanded.

Aris paused. “Sir! Don’t you remember me?” Had he lost his memory? “It’s Specialist Aristos Haan, sir.”

He squinted at her in the gloom. Maybe he couldn’t see her in the dark? She grabbed the lantern from her bag and brought it to his side. The light bloomed, golden and comforting. He still looked pale. Tilting his head, he studied her face more closely.

“You aren’t Aristos.” His voice was quiet, but in no way uncertain.

She sat back on her heels, confusion making her frown. If he knew who
Aristos
was he couldn’t be having trouble with his memory. “But, sir—”

And then she knew. Her voice . . . it was
her
voice.

Her hand flew to the back of her neck. The large bump at the base of her skull, right where her military brand was. The veil.

It had shattered.

“Major Vidar,” she
whispered. She held her hands out, an entreaty.

“Who are you?” he repeated.

“Sir, I
am
Aristos. Really I am. Only . . .”

“Only you’re a woman.” His eyes ranged slowly from her face to her chest; the tight, still-damp fabric of her Military-issue shirt left little in question, even with the band binding her breasts. She couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Yes, sir,” she whispered.

“How.” It was more command than question.

She opened her mouth to answer but saw his face go pale. Blood was seeping through the bandage. “Let me help you.” She scrambled to her bag and returned with a pouch of nutrigel and some clean dressings. In silence, he let her tend him. By the time she’d changed the bandage and he’d eaten the gel, his color was a little better.

He raised one eyebrow, and the scar pulled his lip into a more pronounced sneer.

With a sigh, Aris felt along the back of her neck and released the device. She handed him the transparent—now cracked—rectangle. “It masks my features. And changes my voice.” A hole had started widening in her stomach. She would be kicked out of Military and sent to jail. She forced back the tears that built behind her eyes.

He held the disc up to the light so he could inspect it more closely. She waited for him to yell at her, to tell her the game was up and she was going home.

“How does it work?” he asked instead. His eyes found hers again, glowing a darker blue in the dim light.

“You have to get your body mapped and an implant put in your voice box.” Her hand went to her throat, where she could feel the tiny bump. He reached out and touched the spot, lightly, moving her fingers out of the way. His touch sent a shiver through her; she told herself it was because his hand was cold.

“Where did you get it?” He was staring at her like she was a puzzle he was determined to solve.

“Please, sir,” she said, leaning back. “Don’t make me say. I don’t want anyone else to get in trouble.”

Major Vidar let his hand fall. “Ar—wait, what is your real name?”

“Aris,” she whispered.

“Aris, I need to know.” He looked away, his eyes thoughtful. “Do other dominions have this technology?”

She shook her head. “Atalanta is the only one. They didn’t sell it to other dominions.”

For a long time, Major Vidar didn’t say anything. Finally, as he looked carefully at the device in his hands: “I think perhaps someone did.”

“Sir?”

He shook his head, as if clearing his mind, and looked up at her. “We’ve got to find Lieutenant Latza and return to point as quickly as possible. Have you been in communication with Lieutenant Wolfe?”

This time she couldn’t contain the tears. “They’re dead.” The image exploded in too-vivid detail in her mind. She thought of Galec’s family. Helena, little Calla, who would grow up with his face. What would they do when they found out? She swallowed back a sob.

“You’re sure?” Vidar’s voice was hard.

Aris nodded and turned away.

“Signs of pursuit?”

“Two soldiers, over by the other jet. I . . . took care of them.” She busied herself with her pack, pulling out more nutrigels and a couple hard loaves of bread, wishing she could erase the image of the soldiers’ crumpled bodies from her mind.

“And no contact with Lieutenant Latza, or anyone else?”

She shook her head.

“We have to find him. It’s even more important now, you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Aris said, but she didn’t, really.

Major Vidar held up her nearly empty canteen. “Where did you find the water?”

“There’s a pool at the end of the ravine, sir. I’ll go get us some more.” She stood quickly, nearly bumping her head again. He handed her the canteen, but as she turned to go, he grabbed her arm with his other hand, his cool fingers sliding down her Enviro brand to rest on her wrist. Goosebumps skated along her skin, and her pulse picked up.

“Aris.” He waited until she looked at him. “Well done, Specialist.”

•••

When she returned to the cave, Major Vidar had moved farther away from its mouth and was leaning against the rocky wall. He’d removed his jacket and his pale, defined arms were crossed, which made the muscles stand out.

She reached for her still-damp jacket and put it on, uncomfortably aware of her own body now that it was no longer hidden by the veil. Vidar gestured to a spot beside him, but as she handed him the canteen and sank to the ground, she scooted back a little, to put distance between them.

He tossed her a loaf of bread, and she chewed until it turned to dust in her mouth.

“We need more light to conduct a proper search for Lieutenant Latza. We’ll wait until just before dawn,” he said.

“Wouldn’t he have come to find us, sir? After all the noise last night?”

“He may be injured. Or not realize that we were the ones shot down.”

Aris tried to get comfortable against the craggy side of the cave, but it was difficult. Her racing mind, and sweating palms didn’t help. She felt like a hog, waiting for the blade. She didn’t know whether to ask Major Vidar outright what he planned to do with her when they got back, or if she should just keep silent and hope, somehow, that it would all work out.

He turned off the lantern, plunging them into darkness. “Why are you here, Aris? Why did you join Military?”

The questions caught her off guard.

“There were a lot of reasons,” she replied, after a moment. “It started because of someone I knew, back in Lux.” She slid down the wall until she was lying on her back. Her head throbbed, radiating pain down her spine. “He was selected Military and sent away.”

“And he left you, alone and Unpromised.” Major Vidar broke in. He must have remembered their conversation about her “girl back home.”

She shifted, uncomfortable with his tone. “He was trying to protect me.”

Major Vidar let out a bitter laugh. “Apparently, Specialist, you are very hard to protect.”

“I love to fly,” she said softly. “Back home, no one really understood that. And it wasn’t important, not like it is here. What I’m doing here, the people I’ve saved . . . Calix came first, but now this is who I am.” She paused, steeling herself. “Please don’t report me. I’ll find another disguise. I can’t do any good from prison.”

His clothes rustled as he slid down to stretch out on the hard ground. The cave was narrow, and when he shifted, his leg brushed hers.

“I’m not going to report you. Not now, anyway,” he said. “I can’t. You’re the best blighting flyer I’ve ever seen.” He cleared his throat. “And the only one I’ve got at the moment.”

“And when we get out of this?” She ran her hands over her skull, the prickling beginnings of stubble catching against the tips of her fingers.

“We’ll worry about that when we have to.”

Her stomach sank. It was such a diplomatic, noncommittal answer. With a deep breath, she closed her eyes against the darkness and whispered, “Does it bother you?”

“Does what bother me?”

“That I’m not Aristos. That I’m a woman.” She was strangely comforted, in spite of everything, by the sound of her real voice.

“Not for the reasons you think.” He sighed. “Now go to sleep. Only a few hours until dawn.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, wondering what he meant.

A few moments later, his voice floated a last thought into the darkness. “The simple village girl from Lux. You didn’t do her justice.”

As she drifted off, she saw the lone figure of her former self, standing still as stone on the edge of a beach, the edge of the world, the sunset tangled in her long, wild hair. And Dianthe’s words, from so long ago, echoed in her head.

There are no women in Military, Aris. We’re all just ghosts.