Aris opened her mouth to reply, but Kellan raised the frosted glass divider between them. She watched the city zip past, all glass and shining silver. The sidewalks disappeared beneath a constant flow of people in and out of the tall buildings. An unexpected chill washed over her. These streets would be empty, the city full of nothing but ghosts, if Ward Balias dropped the bomb here. How long did they have to stop him? Could they stop him?
The terran swept into a tight turn, throwing her against Milek. He held her close to his side and bent to whisper, “You look pale. Are you okay?”
Aris wanted to sink into the embrace, let it erase the horrors slithering through her mind.
“If we lose, we won’t just be a conquered dominion,” she murmured, “we’ll be an exterminated one. We’ll be . . . gone. All of us.” Her hand drifted up to gesture to the vibrant city outside the windows. “I was just thinking of all the people here, all that’s riding on us finding this weapon.”
Milek’s cool blue eyes stared calmly into hers. How did he stay so unruffled? So in control? “Don’t do that to yourself. We haven’t lost yet. We won’t let Atalanta fall.”
“How are you so sure?” Aris asked.
“Because I have to be sure,” Milek replied. “I refuse to believe our fate has been decided. I will have faith in our victory until the very moment we fail. And even then, I’ll . . . well, I’ll probably be looking for some kind of loophole, some way to pull survival from the darkness. I just . . . I can’t function any other way.”
Aris smiled, because he was so earnest, so hopeful even now. He’d seen so much death and pain, and yet he still believed they’d win. She leaned up and kissed him, and let his surety fill her. Whatever her doubts, she’d never stop fighting either. She couldn’t. She didn’t know how. It wouldn’t matter if she were bloody or broken. She’d keep on until it killed her.
The terran slowed and Aris looked out of the window.
“This isn’t the capitol,” she said, confusion drawing a furrow between her brows.
Before them, a boxy, cantilevered structure climbed into the mountain.
“It’s the prison,” Milek said, sounding just as perplexed.
Kellan opened the door, and as they stepped out, Milek asked, “Why are we here?”
“Ward Nekos will explain everything.” Kellan led them to a door flanked by guards in hunter-green combat gear, their solaguns at the ready. Above them, workers perched on one of the boxy levels of the prison, laying beams over the gaping hole in the wall. Elom’s exit point.
Aris swallowed and kept her eyes firmly in front of her. At Kellan’s nod, the guards opened the door. The hushed building swallowed them. Aris immediately lost all sense of direction, though the twisting passages and door-lined hallways seemed to be leading gradually downward. But the building climbed upward into the hills. How were they going down?
Finally they reached a long hallway with no cells lining it and followed Kellan into a lift overseen by another set of guards. One pressed a code into a panel on the wall and instead of shooting upward, as Aris expected, the lift plunged even deeper into the mountain.
“Where are we going?” she asked Milek.
He just shrugged.
At long last, they were led into a long, narrow room. Ward Nekos and Ward Vadim sat at one end of a table next to a familiar woman with a snake tattoo curling along her skull.
Aris gasped. “Dianthe?”
The tall woman unwound herself from her chair, her black eyes staring impassively at Aris. “Hello, Lieutenant Haan.”
Dianthe’s Atalantan uniform accentuated the knife edges of her angular body—sharp elbows, broad, bony shoulders. It had been Dianthe who had fitted Aris for her veil and trained her, pushing her until Aris could make it as a soldier.
“What are you doing here?” Aris blurted as Ward Nekos and Ward Vadim rose as well. Milek smiled at his mother, and Aris saluted her dominion’s leader belatedly.
“Good morning, Major Vadim. Lieutenant Haan,” Ward Nekos began. The narrow room’s metal walls reflected strange shadows against his weathered face. This room, unlike most in Panthea, had no glowing ceiling tiles, just a few bright lamps set on black tables in the corners. A long table in the center filled the rest of the space. “No doubt you’ve heard the news about Elom’s escape.”
With an effort, she restrained herself to a simple nod. Beside her, Milek said, “Yes, sir.”
“Well, it’s a lie,” Ward Nekos said.
“What?” Aris glanced from him to Ward Vadim, whose face revealed nothing. Even Dianthe remained calm at this news.
Milek shifted on his feet. “What do you mean, ‘it’s a lie’?”
Ward Nekos shook his head. “That’s exactly what we wanted.” He gestured to one of the guards stationed behind Aris. He pressed a hand to a panel on the wall.
As the silver wall dissolved into transparency, Aris took an involuntary step back. A man who looked like Elom paced the small cell, not like a wild animal but more like an officer inspecting his troops. Back straight, face blank, he gave no indication that he saw them.
Aris narrowed her eyes.
“I don’t understand.” Milek stepped closer to the glass and studied the man beyond.
“The man the world thinks is Elom, who escaped two days ago with the help of a Safaran airstrike, was not, in fact Elom,” Ward Vadim said. She glanced at Aris, a strange intensity in her eyes. “Your new ally, Alistar. He agreed to impersonate Elom to gain intel for us.”
Aris opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
Dianthe quirked a brow at her. “The diatous veil can be very convincing, as you know. It took three days to map Elom and Alistar, and then it was just a matter of waiting for Ward Balias to stage a rescue. The prison’s defenses were eased slightly to allow Safara to succeed.”
A tiny flare of hope ignited in Aris’s chest. “So that’s the real Elom,” she said, tipping her head to the cell. “And Alistar is out there, disguised as Balias’s top operative.” She shifted her gaze to Ward Nekos. “You let them break him out, knowing you had the upper hand. You planned for it.”
The Ward gave a small smile. “We did. Alistar, as Elom, will be able to get close to Balias. He’ll feed us the location of the weapon without Balias ever knowing.”
“Dianthe will return to Mekia with you,” Ward Vadim said. “She’ll monitor Alistar’s movements and reports. His voice modulator has been fitted with a recording device. It will transmit to Dianthe’s radio in real time. We want her with you on point, so you can move as soon as actionable intel crosses the comms.”
Aris nodded.
Ward Nekos stepped closer to the glass partition and watched Elom pace. “As soon as your recruits pass additional security screening, you should begin training immediately. We expect Alistar to give us useful information within a matter of days.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but are you sure you trust Alistar?” Milek’s voice cut through the room. “I know he helped us rescue Aris, but he’s a Safaran. He could join forces with Balias, feed us false information. It could be a trap.”
Ward Nekos broke in. “I appreciate your skepticism, Major Vadim. I felt similarly when Lieutenant Latza shared his proposal with us. Alistar went through a rigorous vetting process, up until the day we gave him the diatous veil. His loyalty should not be questioned.”
But Milek wasn’t finished. “What about his knowledge? He was in a small village on the outskirts of Safara. How will he know Elom’s mannerisms? His interactions and history with Balias? Surely, the Ward will see right through the disguise. He uses veils himself. It’s not as if he’s unaware of their existence.”
“That’s why we waited for Ward Balias to stage a rescue, rather than allowing ‘Elom’ to break free on his own,” Ward Nekos replied. Aris was surprised at his patience, given that Milek was more or less questioning the Ward�
��s judgment. “Alistar was given footage of Elom moving around his cell. He had time to practice before Balias’s extraction. And our spies gleaned enough about Elom’s routine to ease Alistar into Balias’s circle. Our interrogators will continue working on Elom. We’ll ensure Alistar is as knowledgeable and protected as possible. It is a risk, but isn’t every worthy endeavor a risk?”
Aris watched Elom through the glass. At least he wasn’t out in the world. And if Alistar pulled it off, Atalanta would have the bomb.
They’d win the war.
Chapter 10
As Aris stepped out onto the tarmac into the warm night, a small breeze ruffled her short hair. For a minute, she watched the group of soldiers milling around talking quietly. No one knew why they’d been called to Mekia or what their mission would entail.
Four of them—Pallas, Baksen, Mann, and Otto—were comrades: flyers, gunners, and retrievers who’d been through nearly every mission with her.
Lieutenant Theo Riatta, the soldier who’d initially recruited Aris to Military all those months ago, stood in the front row. When Aris had met Theo, the talented flyer had been disguised as a man. Now, her more delicate female face sported a jaunty, up-for-anything grin. Next to her stood her gunner, a woman named Seren Tekla. Seren held herself like some kind of warrior queen, her pointed chin up and shoulders back. She wore her straight black hair slicked behind her ears.
Beside them stood Lieutenant Illias Santos, a flyer Aris had rescued nearly a year ago, on one of her first missions. When Santos had arrived on point the night before, Aris was surprised to see the woman was still veiled as a man.
But it made sense, really. When Aris had transported the woman, bleeding and near death, to a mender stationpoint, Illiana had told her that she’d found peace with her disguise. She hadn’t fit in at her Commerce job, or in her home village. But as Illias, a male soldier for the Atalantan military, she had found her place.
Now Aris watched Lieutenant Santos closely. He held himself with a calm detachment, showing no evidence of the significant injuries he’d suffered. He’d returned to active flying a few months ago, but Aris wanted to be sure he was ready for this.
His gunner, Specialist Renz, certainly looked ready. The man’s eyes glinted beneath heavy brows, two broken teeth visible when he smiled.
The last two newcomers, Specialists Nesta and Yannis, were gunners Commander Nyx had selected. Both men were taller than the rest of the unit. Nesta had a full, boyish face and clever brown eyes that belied his apparent youth. Yannis was dark skinned, with a muscular body even larger and sturdier than Specialist Mann’s.
The fact that these soldiers were waiting for her—that this was her team—sent a ripple of pride through her. When she’d first met Dianthe, Aris had been convinced she wouldn’t make it through the physical training to become a soldier. She’d almost walked away. Now, she was in charge of her own unit. As a woman. An officer. Somehow, without quite realizing it, she’d become a leader.
“Are you ready?” Milek asked, quietly.
Aris shot him a quick grin. “Oh yeah.”
Together, they stepped into the center of the brightly lit landing pad.
“Fall in!” Milek yelled.
The ten people they’d recruited turned to face Aris and Milek, stepping briskly into two five-person lines.
“Good evening,” Aris began. “You’ve all been called here because of your skills in the air. This unit has been tasked with a very important mission, one that could mean the difference in this war.”
Aris looked at each of them in turn. “I’m sure this all sounds very much like what you’ve heard at every stationpoint, from every commander. But our situation truly is unique. We have something no other unit in Atalanta or Safara has.” She cut a quick look at Milek before issuing her warning. “What you’re about to see is classified. You will not discuss this information with a single person beyond the group standing here tonight. The consequences of going against this order reach far beyond your own punishment. Is that understood?”
A chorus of “yes, sir” echoed across the empty tarmac. Wide eyes stared back at her, and Pallas and Otto even looked a little green. She didn’t blame them. The pressure—the importance—of this mission had stolen sleep from her almost every night since she’d found out she’d be leading the unit.
Milek turned to her. “Now?”
“Yes, sir.” This was the moment she’d been looking forward to for the past few weeks. At the far end of the tarmac, beyond Mekia’s two clunky med-jets and the single recon and transport Aris and Pallas had flown from Spiro, three tiny, shining recons and two larger transports glittered in the floodlights. She jogged toward the wingjets.
Commander Nyx, Aris, and Milek had decided it was safest to train at night, well away from point, so the risk of unauthorized soldiers seeing them would be minimal. Still, Aris couldn’t resist a little fanfare. With a practiced leap, she climbed into the closest recon, eyes on the small group of flyers, gunners, and retrievers below. As the wingjet warmed up, she smiled. With the flick of a switch, the nose and wings of her jet shimmered . . . and disappeared.
Below, Lieutenant Riatta took a step back, bumping into Otto. Renz clapped a hand on his head, jaw slack. Even above the hum of the wingjet, Aris heard the team’s voices explode with questions.
She turned the invisibility off, opened the dome, and climbed back down. With a single raised hand, the group fell silent. “Now you understand how important your discretion is,” she said. “These wingjets will allow us to slip past enemy lines undetected. But if Safara were to discover we have them, we’d lose our advantage.”
Most of Aris’s audience stared at the wingjet in wonder, but Lieutenant Santos glared. “How the hell am I supposed to fly a wingjet I can’t see? And what if someone tilts off course and boom, we all blow up?”
Otto and Baksen shared a look. Mann kept his gaze on the wingjet, his fascination obvious.
“Valid concerns,” Aris said. She’d expected questions and hesitation. Still, her pulse raced, knowing she was the one who would calm their fears. “We’re not going to put you in the sky in an invisible wingjet and expect you to immediately know how to fly it. Tonight’s your first training session. Each flyer will go up individually, with me, to get a sense of what it’s like. I promise, we’ll give you enough time to get comfortable.”
“And as for colliding with each other, these wingjets are equipped with advanced nav systems,” Milek added. “You won’t be flying entirely blind. Each jet has a signature you’ll be able to see on the nav.”
These wingjets were upgraded from the original prototype Aris had flown—and crashed—in Safaran territory. The nav features had been improved, and all the glitches she’d experienced during the storm that had damaged her veiling tech had been resolved. She hoped.
Specialist Mann rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze still fixed on one of the transport jets. “Sounds complicated,” he said. “And overkill for our usual S and R gigs. We gonna be retrieving more kidnapped wards?” His lip quirked, but the joke was a questioning one.
Aris took a deep breath. She and Milek had discussed the next point with Wards Nekos and Vadim at length. Ultimately, they’d decided on the truth. The ten soldiers that stood before her had each gone through additional security checks: a lie detector test, a psych evaluation, and an interview with their commanding officer. If anyone could be trusted, it was this group.
She tapped a hand against the recon’s wing. “Ward Balias is in possession of a very powerful, very dangerous weapon. Our job, as a unit, is to find and retrieve it before it can be used against Atalanta.”
Specialist Tekla raised her chin a fraction. “What are we up against? What does it do?”
Aris glanced toward Milek. This was one detail they’d been asked not to reveal. “The purpose of the weapon is classified, but believe me when I say that this is no
t a resource you want Ward Balias to have.”
Her eyes skimmed over the other soldiers: Pallas looked about to hyperventilate. Baksen’s stony expression hadn’t changed. Otto hung back, arms crossed over his chest, while beside him Specialists Nesta and Yannis whispered something to each other. Theo kept glancing at Specialist Tekla, and Renz studied the booted foot he scuffed along the ground.
“Who wants to fly first?” Aris asked. For a moment, no one responded.
Then, to her surprise, Lieutenant Santos stepped forward.
Aris channeled Milek’s cool demeanor—she hoped—as she said, “Specialist Renz, Otto, you’ll be accompanying us.” She headed for one of the transport jets and climbed into the gunner seat, gesturing for Renz to strap himself into the cargo hold with Otto.
Lieutenant Santos climbed into the flyer’s chair and shook his head. “Invisible wingjets. This is insane.”
“I know. But you’re Atalanta’s best flyers. You can handle it.” Aris strapped herself in, letting Santos run through warm-ups. They wouldn’t turn on the veiling tech until they were well away from point.
Santos scoffed, but he took the wingjet up smoothly enough. Aris even thought she caught a smile as he banked and whisked them into the darkness.
“You sure about this, Lieutenant?” Otto called from behind them.
Aris swiveled in her seat. Both Otto and Renz were holding tightly to their harnesses. “Have I ever lied to you?”
Otto shot her a look. “Well, there was that one time. You know, when you pretended to be a dude.”
“Fair enough.” Aris turned back, hiding a grin.
When she told the lieutenant to flip the veiling switch, he waited a long moment before completing her request. At night, the invisibility wasn’t nearly as dramatic as in full daylight. Still, Santos gasped when the wingjet’s nose shimmered and disappeared.
Aris’s hands itched for the controls—she wasn’t used to flying as a passenger—but the tension in her shoulders eased anyway. This is what she loved: being so close to the stars. She hoped Dysis healed quickly. She wanted to see the look in her friend’s eyes when the wingjet vanished, leaving only sky.
Torn Sky (Rebel Wing Trilogy, Book 3) (Rebel Wing Series) Page 5