“Anything good?” Dysis asked, glancing over Aris’s shoulder.
“Well, I heard from—”
Lieutenant Daakon’s voice cut her off. “Latza, Haan, the Commander would like to see you in his office. Now, please.”
Aris started. Lieutenant Daakon stood just behind them.
Aris and Dysis jumped up, exchanging nervous glances. As they hurried down the hall, Dysis whispered, “Do you think it could be about Jax? Everyone knows I’m looking for him. Do you think . . . maybe there’s some news?”
Aris wanted to say yes. But—“Why’d they call me, then? Wouldn’t Commander Nyx just want to see you?”
“Then what?”
Aris’s stomach dropped. “Do you think . . .” She tensed and clamped her jaw shut. They’d reached the office, and the Commander’s door was open.
“Latza, Haan, come in,” Commander Nyx ordered.
Aris stepped into the small, windowless room first and stood stiffly before the Commander’s desk.
He indicated that Dysis should close the door. “Sit.”
They sank into the chairs set before the desk. All the furniture was old-fashioned, beat up. The white finish was chipped in some places, and a leg of the desk had a chunk taken out of it, exposing the grain of the wood.
Commander Nyx tapped his monitor. Aris tried not to stare at the ropes of red scar that circled his neck, but she couldn’t stop herself from wondering what had happened, if it was a wound sustained in battle, or something older. She couldn’t imagine what might have caused the marks, short of someone trying to strangle him. With fire.
“Specialist Haan, you’ve done poorly in hand-to-hand training. Worst of any soldier at this stationpoint,” Commander Nyx said.
Aris swallowed. She wanted to defend herself, to demand that they hold off judgment until they saw her fly, but she was afraid if she spoke up she’d get lambasted for insubordination, so she simply nodded. She squeezed the chair’s armrests so tightly her knuckles went white. She couldn’t go home. Not now.
“You passed your physical assessment, and your run times have been improving,” he continued. “So that’s something.” Commander Nyx then turned to Dysis. “Specialist Latza, you’ve shown prowess in target training and your physical assessment was sufficient. In addition, you’re quite skilled at hand-to-hand.” The stout man sank back in his chair. “And Lieutenant Jax Latza is your brother.”
Dysis stiffened at the name but nodded, though it hadn’t been a question.
“He was well-known in Military even before his disappearance.” Commander Nyx paused.
Dysis’s square jaw was clenched, eyes burning. “If he’s so well-known, why hasn’t anyone found him yet? That’s why I’m here, sir. To find him. Whatever it takes.” she said, a dangerous edge to her voice.
Commander Nyx placed his hand on the desk, fingers spread, and stood. His movements were slow, deliberate; it was like watching a snake coil to strike. “No. You’re here to do your job, Specialist,” he said.
For a second the silence built, tight and dirty in the small room. But as Nyx’s scars pulsed red and his eyes bored into Dysis, she finally murmured, “Yes, sir.”
Aris let out the breath she’d been holding.
The Commander straightened, his hands falling to his sides. “As you are women, I am already taking a risk with you. I need to be able to trust that you’re committed to the mission of this unit, above all else. And capable of doing your jobs without exposing yourselves.”
Aris’s jaw slackened. “You know? But . . . but how—”
“And how would the deception work if I didn’t, Specialist?” he interrupted. “You have paperwork excusing you from medical evaluations, special dispensations in the event of an injury. Who exactly did you think authorized such measures?”
“I . . .” No words came. Of course she should have known, but the shock kept Aris rooted to her chair.
“Specialist Latza, you’ve proven yourself to be a useful member of this team. So long as your specialty training remains at a similar level of proficiency, and your brother’s circumstances don’t distract you, you are welcome to continue with us.”
“Thank you, sir,” Dysis murmured.
Commander Nyx turned narrowed eyes on Aris. “Specialist Haan. Given your performance to date, I cannot continue to offer you a place at this stationpoint. For you to stay, I would need to see some spectacular flying out of you. And even then, I’m not convinced you have the physical strength and skill necessary for this job.”
At first the words didn’t register. Then a burning anger caught Aris out of nowhere. Without a second’s thought, she stood up and slammed her hand on the desk. “You will not tell me I can’t do this. I have worked too blighting hard to be sent away now.”
“Aristos.” The warning in Commander’s Nyx voice was clear.
Aris lifted her chin. “I’ll prove I’m an important part of this team. You’ll see.”
“I better see you sit down right now, or I’ll kick you out before you even get the chance.” The hardness in his eyes said he was deadly serious.
Aris sat. The shock of her outburst was catching up to her. Did she really just yell at her commander? Another thought sent her reeling. “If . . . if I don’t make it, are you going to send me to jail?”
Commander Nyx sighed. “No. That would put the other women embedded here at risk. If you don’t make it, we will deal with your dismissal internally.”
Aris swallowed hard.
Nyx sat back in his chair. “Specialist Haan, I will give you my decision on your future here within the week. In the meantime, I expect you both to be vigilant in keeping your real identities to yourselves. For any issues arising from your unique situation, you will come to me and me only. You will not discuss this meeting or your ‘special circumstances’ with anyone outside this room. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.” Aris and Dysis said together.
Within the week. At least Aris wasn’t getting kicked out now. At least she had one more chance to earn her place.
Commander Nyx turned to Dysis. “Specialist Latza?”
“Sir?” Dysis stood and met the Commander’s glare straight on. The air thickened between them, and Aris wanted to slink away before something—or someone—exploded.
“Your priority, while you’re here, is your team. Not Lieutenant Latza. There are people far more important than you looking for him. Understood?”
Dysis gave a slow nod, but the mutiny in her eyes remained.
“Dismissed.”
Aris hurried down the hallway, ignoring Dysis’s angry muttering. She could barely breathe. Please let my flying be enough. Please, Gods, make them let me stay.
Chapter 24
“Total bloodbath,” Dysis mumbled at dinner that night, her mouth full of pea-and-piggin pie.
Galec nudged Aris’s arm. She winced. “Hand-to-hand wasn’t that bad, was it?” he asked. “Better than yesterday, anyway. Looks like you got one good shot in.” He gestured toward Dysis and the puffy, purple bruise along her chin.
Aris grunted, for once sounding like a man without even trying. “I was aiming for his shoulder, but his face got in the way.”
Galec laughed. Aris’s stomach twisted. She’d tried even harder in combat training today, pushing herself until she thought she’d pass out, and she still got whipped. She could just imagine Commander Nyx’s cold eyes when he sent her home.
“Still counts,” Otto said, then he belched. The skin around his mouth was shiny with piggin fat.
Jealousy flared within her. Aris had no doubt that Galec and Otto were really, truly male, with nothing to prove and no one threatening to send them home. She’d been watching the other soldiers, wondering who among them was hiding, like her. Sometimes she caught a glimpse—a too-graceful movement, a snatch of conversation between sectormates that sounded too familiar, too female—and she’d file the moment away. Specialist Pallas, perhaps, was a woman. Or maybe even Lieutenant Talon. B
ut Galec and Otto? Definitely not.
As Otto shoveled another hunk of pie in his mouth, Dysis grinned, an extra hint of sympathy in her eyes. “You’ll get me next time. You just need more practice. Mosquito.”
Galec and Otto guffawed. Aris scowled. She’d made the mistake of telling Dysis about Calix calling her Mosquito, and now she couldn’t get away from it.
She shook her head and tried to ignore its pounding. “On the ground I’m donkey rot and always will be. Just put me in a wingjet. By all that is holy, let me fly. Then we’ll—”
“Tomorrow. Then we’ll see.”
She spun in her seat. Lieutenant Wolfe, the unit’s flying expert, kept walking without looking at her, but the faint smirk on his thin face betrayed his skepticism. Not that his derision was a surprise. Hadn’t Commander Nyx made it clear she wasn’t impressing anyone? She’d barely passed her physical evaluation, and even now she spent most of her combat training trying to ignore the disgusted look on Major Vidar’s face.
Target practice was getting better. She had the sharp eyes of a flyer, but she still flinched every time the solagun went off, which always impaired her aim. At least she usually managed to keep her eyes open now. Still, it wasn’t enough.
Aris turned to glare at Otto, who was chuckling openly.
“Have you heard from Helena?” She asked Galec about his wife in an attempt to change the subject.
His eyes glowed with pride. “Got a comm from her yesterday. Calla has started walking. She’s taller than all the other girls her age, and Helena says she looks more like me every day.”
“Poor child,” Otto said under his breath. Dysis punched him in the arm. “Ow!”
“You should be so lucky,” Galec replied with a good-natured smile.
Just then, someone on the other side of the room hushed them, turning up the volume on the monitor mounted to the wall.
In the news vid, a pretty reporter in a slim yellow dress was speaking in front of a steep-roofed stone house. “. . . With a heavy heart I announce the passing of Josef Vadim, husband of Ruslana’s Ward Galena Vadim, who remains in quarantine,” she said solemnly.
Everyone turned to watch, the last murmurs of conversation fading to silence. The woman continued, “Vadim was found early this morning, alone in the home he shared with his wife, dead of catastrophic heart failure. He was taken to the nearest clinic but menders were unable to revive him. Those close to the Ward believe the stress of her illness contributed to his collapse. We’ve been told Ward Vadim will issue a statement. Her son has still not spoken to or been seen by the press; it is unclear if he was with his father at the time of his death or, indeed, if he’s even aware of today’s sad events.”
Otto sat back in his chair and whistled. “That’s a bad business.”
“I’m surprised they haven’t appointed an acting Ward,” Galec said. A vertical line had formed between his brows. “But I suppose they wouldn’t, if she’ll soon be well enough to issue statements.”
The reporter was still speaking, but she’d moved on to interviews with friends and colleagues of Josef Vadim, and the room erupted again into conversation and the clinking of silverware.
Aris took a bite of her pie, staring intently at her plate. That man in Dianthe’s apartment had talked about Ward Vadim’s husband, how he’d been telling anyone who’d listen that his wife wasn’t really sick. It was so odd that now he should fall ill. That he should die.
“I wonder why they can’t locate her son,” Dysis said. “How can no one know where he is? Surely he’ll attend his father’s burning.”
“Will Ruslana continue with the sanctions, do you think?” Aris asked.
From Commander Nyx’s briefings, it appeared Ruslana’s pressure on Safara was having some small effect. Without the water and other resources Ruslana normally traded for Safaran energy, the dominion was struggling. A little. But Atalanta was still in danger. And no one here seemed to believe that giving Safara access to the Fex River would actually solve anything.
“They better,” Galec said, running a hand over the ginger stubble on his head. “Otherwise, there’s not much hope for us, is there?”
Aris glanced at Dysis, taking in her worried look, as Dianthe’s words echoed ominously in her mind. We are losing this war.
Chapter 25
Today would be different. Galena knew this because Elom’s routine changed. He did not immediately connect her to electrodes. And he didn’t unchain her either. He entered the room silently, his dark skin glowing under the bright lights. A digitablet and medigun held in his large, oddly delicate hands, he stood beside her bed and stared at her for a long time.
She was certain this would be the day he killed her.
She’d racked her brain for reasons why someone would want to kidnap her, and then do nothing but hold her captive. There were no ransom demands, no death threats, no torturing her for information. Whatever they’d needed her for, it seemed obvious her purpose had expired.
“Prepare yourself,” Elom said. The first words he’d spoken in days.
In that moment, Pyralis’s face flashed in her mind. No, she would not let him have her last thought. Instead, Galena held her son, her beautiful son, close to her in the darkness as she closed her eyes.
There was no sting from a medigun needle. No pillow pressed against her face, or merciless fingers snaking around her throat. After a moment, she opened her eyes. Elom didn’t touch her, didn’t speak. He just placed the digitablet on her lap and turned it on.
Confused, Galena wanted to ask, prepare myself for what?
She didn’t have time.
“It is with a heavy heart,” the reporter announced, standing before a house Galena instantly recognized as her own, “that I announce the passing of Josef Vadim . . .”
Galena opened her mouth, gasping like a dying fish, as the reporter’s voice babbled on.
With the last hiss of air remaining in her lungs, she whispered, “It’s a lie.”
This should have been it. The moment when he explained what was going on, explained his terms. But Elom didn’t respond.
“You doctored the vid. You want something from me, and you’re using him as collateral,” she guessed. Prayed. Josef couldn’t be . . .
Still Elom said nothing, just stared at her patiently. Waiting for it to sink in.
Her husband was really dead.
The panic she hadn’t shown when she thought Elom was about to kill her surfaced now.
“Let me go!” she screamed and fought against her restraints, cutting her arms on the cool metal. She strained desperately against the sheets that kept her legs immobile. “Stop this! Whatever you’re doing! I know you killed my husband! Let me go.” The words spewed out of her with all the abhorrence she’d built for him, the flames of anger blazing forth.
She and her husband had had little to do with each other in recent years. But he was not some pawn in whatever psychotic game she was being forced to play. And he’d never had a problem with his heart in his life.
“Who do you work for? Ward Balias? What did you do?” She kept up her rage-filled tirade until all that came out was a breathless scream.
Elom didn’t try to stop her; he waited until the blood from her wounded arms had stained the brilliant white sheets crimson and she’d flopped back against the hard mattress, exhausted.
“Tell me,” he said, his voice level, pleasant even, as if he were remarking on the weather, “Where is your son?”
“He is beyond your reach. You will never find him,” she hissed, rage burning through her exhaustion.
“You don’t think he’ll visit you, knowing that you are soon to be released from quarantine? You don’t think he will come to pay his respects at his father’s burning?” Elom’s mild tone didn’t change.
“No. He won’t come.” Let Elom think her son hated his father. Let him think what he wanted; she would not give him this.
Elom smiled without showing his teeth. “I see.”
; The simple response sent a shiver of fear along her spine. Struggling to keep her voice steady, she said, “Is that why I’m alive? So you can destroy my family? Why am I here, Elom?” When he didn’t respond, she screamed, “Why don’t you just kill me, too?”
“Oh, I have no intention of killing you. For now.” He patted her head as if she were a small child. “There is too much of value in here.”
He was too close, looming over the bed, and she couldn’t breathe; he was sucking the air from her lungs just standing there. “I need to use the washroom,” she said.
He removed the digitablet from her lap and released her restraints. She thought about launching herself at him, but by the time she found the energy to sit up, he’d backed away. He leaned against the wall, watching her, ready if she tried something.
For once, he didn’t give her a time limit. Galena stood against the sink and stared at herself in the mirror. The light was as bright in here as it was in her cell, and every wrinkle, every rice-paper patch of skin was visible. She stared into her own haunted eyes and saw, for the first time, how much she’d aged in the time she’d been a captive. Her hair, which was normally pulled into a flattering knot, was tangled and greasy. The blonde had dulled, leeching the little color she had left in her cheeks. She looked like a wraith.
She leaned over the old-fashioned chrome sink. Tears broke through the iron wall she’d built in her heart. She hadn’t let herself cry, not once, since she’d woken and seen Elom standing over her. She hadn’t let herself think much about her circumstances, her future.
But now. Now. Her husband was dead. The father of her child. They hadn’t spoken with more than awkward civility, if that, in years, but she had loved him once. After Pyralis left, Josef had saved her—from a nowhere job and a broken heart. He’d found her a better placement, in his own Technology company. He’d set her on her journey to success. She was Ward in large part because of him, whether she’d been willing to admit it in recent years or not.
The Diatous Wars 1: Rebel Wing Page 11