The Diatous Wars 1: Rebel Wing

by Tracy Banghart

  Despite the garish chair, the room felt barren. Cold, even with sunlight pouring through the far wall, which was entirely made of glass and provided a beautiful, though vertigo-inducing, view of the city.

  “Stop!” Dianthe barked when Aris reached the bench nearest the giant chair. “You have a limp,” she accused, sweeping in a circle to examine Aris from all sides.

  Aris raised her chin. “My limp has nothing to do with how well I fly.”

  “Ah, so you’re a flyer.” Dianthe waved a hand. “Of course you are. From Lux, aren’t you?”

  “I’m not just a flyer from Lux,” she returned, trying to hide her desperation with an indignant scowl. “I’m the best flyer in Lux. Maybe in all of Atalanta.” They were the words of a braggart, and reckless, but they were better than the words she couldn’t say: please don’t send me home.

  Dianthe arched her pale eyebrows, the serpent undulating along her forehead. “That’s quite a claim.”

  “Put me in a wingjet and I’ll prove it. Just ask your friend Theo.” Aris crossed her arms over her chest, trapping her trembling fingers against her sides.

  Dianthe narrowed her eyes. “You’re the one Theo recruited?”

  You are strong. You can do this. “Yes,” Aris said, her voice steady. “He begged me to come here. Said I was wasting my talents in Lux. My gift.” She paused. The crimson snake really was disconcerting, but she refused to look away. “He said you needed me. Maybe he doesn’t care so much about silly things like how tall I am or how I walk.”

  Dianthe skewered her with a hard glare and said nothing.

  Warmth bloomed across Aris’s cheeks, but she kept her chin up. She couldn’t let Dianthe see how intimidated she was. How desperate. If this didn’t work, if she was sent away, back to Lux . . .

  No Calix.

  At last, Dianthe shrugged, her tunic rippling with the movement. “If you truly are the flyer you claim to be, I might have a place for you within the organization.”

  Aris was about to speak when the woman turned, exposing a black rectangle on the back of her neck. The Military brand. That’s not possible.

  Dianthe folded her thin body gracefully into the cushions of the chair. Its exaggerated proportions made hers look more normal. “Sit,” she ordered, pointing to the nearest bench.

  Dazed, Aris sat. “Why do you have a Military brand? You can’t be Military, you’re a woman.”

  “What exactly did Theo tell you?” Dianthe asked.

  Aris swallowed. “He offered me a job doing some flying to help with the war, but he didn’t, uh . . .”

  “Explain how?”

  Aris shook her head. “Just that it was important and I was needed. And I couldn’t tell anyone where I was going if I came to see you.”

  Dianthe brushed her fingers over her bald head. “And now that you’re here, can’t you guess?”

  Aris shook her head again, slowly.

  “Women aren’t allowed openly in the Military. But there are women nonetheless. I help them pass for men, so they can fight the Safaran invasion.”

  Aris’s eyes widened. Women fought in the war? “But why would they do that?”

  Dianthe raised a hand in a gesture of impatience. “Why does anyone fight a war? To protect a way of life, to find or support a loved one. To avenge those lost. Or maybe because it’s a calling. Because someone has to. Because there’s a line no enemy should be allowed to cross.” The way she said it, her voice tight and the words tripping over themselves to be heard . . . it was clear Dianthe had a reason for becoming a soldier, for fighting in this war.

  Aris shivered at the fire in the tall woman’s expression. “But . . . but what about the laws? How can the government allow it?”

  “Allow it? Shouldn’t women decide what they’ll allow for their own bodies, not a government acting out an antiquated, unnecessary law?” Dianthe’s black eyes glittered. “Safara is a powerful enemy. It would be imprudent to turn our backs on some of the most talented flyers and marksmen in Atalanta just because they’re women.”

  Aris could hold Dianthe’s gaze no longer. She’d never thought about the ban on women in the Military, never thought she’d be in a position to care. “So what Theo was offering—what you’re offering—is a chance to join the Military sector and fight in the war?”

  Dianthe stood and walked to the black table against the wall. Several metal chairs were tucked under it, but the clutter of bottles and paperwork strewn across its surface suggested it hadn’t been used for a meal in a while. She poured herself a glass of pale green liquid, leaned a hip against the table, and swirled the liquid around and around.

  The silence pressed on Aris’s nerves.

  “I’m offering you the chance to become a Military flyer,” Dianthe said finally. “No active combat. But you’ll still have to do physical training. First a month with me, and then regularly with your unit. The Military sector requires a certain level of conditioning. If you can’t meet those requirements, I’ll have to send you home.”

  Aris was suddenly very happy to be sitting down. Theo hadn’t said anything about physical conditioning requirements. How could she possibly meet them?

  Even her parents thought she could barely function. Her father loved to remind her of all the activities she was unsuited to—including a desk job in Panthea, apparently—and her mother never missed an opportunity to grab her shoulders and tell her how much worse her limp was when she slouched.

  Dianthe watched her, sipping her drink. She didn’t pour a second glass, though Aris wished she would; her throat felt drier than the deserts of Safara.

  “There’s someone I need to find,” Aris said loudly, trying to forget her parents’ lack of confidence in her physical strength. Trying to ignore the tremble in her knees that suggested they might be right. “If I do this, I want to be placed in his unit. Or at his stationpoint, at least. I want to work with him.”

  Dianthe’s expression gave away nothing. “Who is ‘he’?”

  “Calix Pavlos. He’s training to be a field mender. He just had selection a week ago, like me, only he was selected for Military.” Even now, the thought of him so close to danger made her chest burn.

  The room swelled with silence and sunlight. Aris held her breath.

  Dianthe tapped a finger against her glass. “I make no guarantees.”

  No guarantees? No guarantees wasn’t good enough. If she was going to do this—if she was going to take this massive, ridiculous, what-was-she-thinking leap—she had to be with Calix.

  Aris stood up on legs that only quivered a little and crossed her arms over her chest. “You need me. Theo said so. I’ll be placed with Calix or not at all. These are my terms.”

  Dianthe’s eyes flashed, venomous. “Your terms.”

  Aris stood her ground, caught in the cage of Dianthe’s stare.

  The woman barked a harsh laugh. “You foolish girl. We are losing this war, did you know that? Do you think any of us can afford ultimatums?” She slammed her glass on the table. “Is that what Theo promised you? A chance to play at love on the battlefield?”

  Aris sucked in a ragged breath.

  Without waiting for an answer, Dianthe continued. “This is no game. I disguise you as a man, train you, and get you documents so you can pass as a volunteer for the Military sector. And then you join a regular unit and train with them. A regular unit, get it? With weapons, and war, and danger.”

  Aris stared at Dianthe’s blood-red snake tattoo as she stalked the room, feeling like a small, defenseless animal at the mercy of that serpent’s strike. She shivered. “You said no combat.”

  “That doesn’t mean it won’t be dangerous. You’ll be a soldier, first and foremost. And you don’t get to tell your family or friends where you are or what you’re really doing. If the government discovers you’re a woman, you’ll be sent to prison for impersonating a soldier. And if you get shot”—she cocked her head to the side—“you’ll be dead.”

  Each word hung like the after
image of lightning in Aris’s mind, sinking slowly into her awareness.

  “This cannot be about Calix. Do you understand?” Dianthe, still scowling, studied her.

  Aris bit her lip, shamed. Because it was about him, even now, no matter what Dianthe said. She would fight wars for Calix. In little more than a whisper, she asked, “Are we really losing? The news vids . . .” Her voice trailed off. The news vids still dealt in small victories. Hope.

  Dianthe suddenly looked tired. Even the snake seemed to droop a little as she let out a breath. “The situation is . . . dire. If the Ward of Ruslana had succeeded in persuading the other dominions to impose sanctions on Safara, maybe that would have helped us secure our border. But . . .”

  “But Ward Vadim fell ill,” Aris said, stomach leaden, “and there was no vote on sanctions.”

  “Exactly. And wasn’t that convenient.” Dianthe looked up. “Every single man—and woman—willing to stand up and fight for this dominion can be certain they are making a difference. Including you, Aris.” She drained the rest of her drink and set it back on the table. “Theo was right. We do need you. If you can pass the physical training.”

  Taking her heart, and her courage, in her hands, Aris murmured, “And Calix?”

  Dianthe sighed, sounding oddly defeated. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  It wasn’t the guarantee Aris wanted. But something told her Dianthe could make it happen. “Okay. So what now?”

  Dianthe led her to the first of three closed doors along the left wall of the apartment. A small circular pad beside the door glowed faintly. “This will be your room. Once you’ve unpacked your things, change into your exercise uniform. It’s on the bed. ”

  “Exercise uniform?” Aris passed the handle of her bag from one hand to the other. It was light; she’d brought little with her from home.

  “To begin your training,” Dianthe said, walking away.

  Aris’s heart gave a sudden lurch. “But don’t you want to see me fly?”

  Dianthe turned back to stare at her. “Physical training first. If you make it through that, then I’ll see you fly.”

  “But . . .” How would she make it on the physical training alone? Her one skill was flying; without that, she had nothing.

  At the obvious terror in Aris’s eyes, Dianthe raised her hands. “I told you, this only works if you can pass the physical tests.”

  For an instant, Aris considered walking away. There was still time . . . and her father would be pleased. Maybe she could. . . .

  No. She tightened her hand on the bag. You’re doing this for Calix. You can do anything for him. “I’ll be right out.”

  Aris pressed the glowing pad on the wall and the bedroom door slid open. The room had no windows, just a narrow bed, one small trunk for her clothes, and a doorway that led to a tiny washroom. She dropped her bag onto the floor beside the bed, and changed into the tight black pants and sleeveless tunic of her exercise uniform.

  When Aris walked back into the main room, Dianthe was waiting.

  “What happens now?” Aris tried to sound professional. Like someone to be taken seriously. Like someone who wasn’t about to collapse in fear.

  Dianthe led her to another door. Aris’s stomach sank when it slid open, revealing a collection of frightening machines that gleamed silver in the daylight pouring through the glass wall.

  “Each member of Military is expected to run three miles every day. You’ll run one mile today, two tomorrow. And three each day after that. If I feel it necessary,” Dianthe said, “you’ll run more.” She pointed to a dark strip of flooring along the far wall.

  Aris didn’t move. The first task was running? “You can’t expect . . . I mean. . . .” She hadn’t run more than a few yards since the fever, when she was twelve years old. There was no way she could do this. Pulse pounding in her throat, she turned her gaze to Dianthe’s impassive face. “But I don’t run.” She barely stopped herself from saying I can’t.

  Dianthe’s expression didn’t change. “You know the arrangement. You run, or you leave.”

  Aris gingerly threaded her way through the equipment to the black strip of flooring, which gave slightly as she stepped onto it. Without warning it moved and she fell, the thud of elbow and hip meeting floor echoing in the quiet room.

  Wincing, she tried to sit up, still unbalanced and awkward.

  “Again,” Dianthe said.

  This time when the floor began to move, Aris was ready. Or readier. As she walked, Dianthe tapped a panel on the wall. Gradually, the floor slid faster and faster until she was jogging. The pace was what anyone other than Aris might call leisurely, but she could already feel weakness in her knees and a tingling ache in the backs of her thighs.

  “This is too slow,” Dianthe said, “but it will do.” She paused. “For today.”

  Aris heard the hiss of a door closing and then she was alone. You just have to make it through a month. Then she’ll see you fly, and she will have no choice to keep you. The words pounded in her head to the rhythm of her feet. But within minutes, her legs were trembling and her lungs were on fire.

  A month? Who was she kidding? She wasn’t going to last a day.

  Chapter 10

  Aris awoke the next morning to complete darkness for the first time in her life. She felt the lack of Lux’s constant glow like the loss of a childhood friend. She’d always imagined that when she left home, she would be with Calix, not in a tiny, impersonal room in the heart of Panthea by herself.

  When she turned on her digitablet, she checked her comms and noted with a start that she had a message from Calix. With trembling fingers, she touched the screen and opened the letter.

  Aris, you don’t know how happy I am to finally sit down and write to you. Only ten days apart and it feels like a lifetime. I keep telling myself it’ll get easier, but I still dream about you all the time. Sometimes I think about our last night together and wish I’d broken the rules. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t say that. I’m so tired I can hardly think. The training has been a lot harder than I expected. In addition to our mender duties, we have to do combat drills and physical conditioning. You’d laugh if you saw me . . . I’m a terrible fighter. I miss you so much, Mosquito. Tell Rakk and Phae I say hi. And give my mother a kiss, will you, if you see her? Please write soon. I need to know you’re surviving. I love you. ~ Calix

  Aris couldn’t do as he asked and say hello to anyone, or kiss his mother. Instead she wrote that she had left Lux. Her story about the Central Enviro Office wouldn’t make much sense to him, especially given Panthea’s no-fly rules, but there was no help for it. Dianthe had told her she couldn’t hint at the truth over comms in case they were monitored. She’d have to wait until they were face to face to tell Calix what she’d done.

  “Let’s go, Aris!” Dianthe’s voice shattered the silence. Two sharp knocks on the bedroom door followed.

  “I’ll be right out.” Aris switched off her digitablet and dragged herself from the small, hard bed. Calix’s first comm should have come as a relief. An affirmation. But he sounded so lost. She wished she could tell him she was coming, that they’d bear the burden of their new lives together.

  When she walked into the main room, Dianthe was at the door saying goodbye to someone in the hallway. Aris waited, grateful for any small reprieve from the torture.

  Dianthe closed the door and turned to study her. “How’s the leg?”

  About to fall off. “Fine.”

  “Good.” Dianthe pursed her lips, as if pinching back a smile. As if she knew Aris was lying and could see every single aching muscle she was trying to hide. She led Aris into the room with the moving floor and strapped her into a frightening machine meant to work her leg muscles. Aris began the exercise, biting back a groan as her legs burst into pain.

  “So,” Dianthe said while she watched her work, “What happened?”

  “What . . . do you mean?” Breathe. Don’t forget to breathe. What Aris wanted to do was scream. Her thighs were al
ready burning.

  “Your leg. The limp.”

  She paused, trying to concentrate on the question, but Dianthe barked, “Don’t stop. Five more.”

  This time Aris couldn’t hold back the groan. Half-breathless from exertion, she mumbled, “When I was a child I got sick, so sick my parents thought I’d die. I couldn’t walk for months afterwards, and the pain of relearning made me scream.” Just the way I feel now.

  “Ten more, then you’re done with this,” Dianthe interjected. “And talk using shorter sentences. Be straight. To the point. Think about the way men speak.”

  “Not all men . . . speak . . . like that.” Aris pushed her legs against the machine as she said it, her face burning with the effort. Her father spoke long and eloquently, often using his hands for illustration. He told wonderful stories.

  “But you will,” Dianthe said, interrupting Aris’s regrets. “You’ll talk and act like a typical male. This isn’t about expressing yourself or the variety of human experience. It’s about conformity. You will disappear into the soldiers’ ranks. You will not stand out. Do you understand?”

  Aris nodded.

  Dianthe grabbed Aris’s knee, adjusting her leg to improve her form. “So, you were ill and had to relearn how to walk. That’s it? The end of the story?”

  The machine hissed into silence as Aris finished her last leg press. “Calix, the field mender I’ll be placed with, helped me. Saved me, really. I couldn’t have done it otherwise, without him taking care of me. He wouldn’t let me give up.”

  “How romantic.” Dianthe’s sarcasm was palpable.

  Aris straightened her legs, stretching out the sore muscles, and ignored the barb. “And my father wouldn’t either. He taught me to fly when I was too weak to walk. I’ve been flying ever since.” Holy, what she’d give to be flying now. “Flying was my way out of the pain. It was my freedom.”

  Dianthe didn’t respond for a moment, and Aris wondered if she’d actually gotten through to the woman. But then Dianthe said, “Too much emotion. Keep that to yourself, Haan. Men don’t discuss their feelings.”