Torn Sky (Rebel Wing Trilogy, Book 3) (Rebel Wing Series) (10 page)

The small comms room was full of people. Aris stood in one corner, watching Milek, Dianthe, Commander Nyx, Dysis, and Raven. They were all talking at once, milling about. Faintly, in the background, the woosh of Alistar’s breath kept time.

“You’ll need the full team—”

“We can’t be sure this is—”

“We need to leave
now
.”

Aris cut around the flurry of movement to Dysis’s side. “I can’t believe he really did it,” she said. “This is . . . oh holy.
He did it.
It’s mad, right?”

Dysis made a noncommittal noise.

They’d listened to the playback twice; Aris still heard Elom’s voice on a loop in her mind, confirming the location of the flaming scorpion.

“This is our chance.” Milek stood two feet from Commander Nyx. “We need to get in there
now
and retrieve the weapon before Alistar’s team arrives.”

“I have to wait for approval from Ward Nekos,” Nyx replied. She crossed her arms over her chest, looking as if she might physically restrain him if he tried to leave the room.

“What happens to Alistar? If we go in, I mean?” Aris interjected, uneasiness cutting through her triumph.

Commander Nyx turned a narrow gaze on her. “What do you mean?”

Aris resisted the urge to retreat under the woman’s scrutiny. “I mean, if we go in and liberate the ‘package,’ as it were, won’t Ward Balias know Elom is a spy? That he tipped us off? He’ll kill him—probably torture him first.”

Raven glanced at the monitor, as if waiting for Alistar to speak again. Dianthe stepped a fraction closer to Commander Nyx. The two of them, standing side by side, with their scars and tattoos, looked like harbingers of mayhem.

Milek cleared his throat. “I guess the question is: Can we afford to take Alistar’s safety into consideration?” He asked the question slowly, as if the words tasted bitter on his tongue.

Aris’s stomach clenched. “He’s putting himself at great personal risk to help us. There’s got to be a way we can act on the intel
and
protect him.”

Commander Nyx’s face hardened into a blank mask. “That’s for me to discuss with Ward Nekos. There will be no mission until we have authorization, and that’s final. This retrieval must be handled with the utmost care.”

Aris bit back a groan of frustration.

Dysis stepped forward. “Ward Balias said, ‘If the Atalantans try to intercept the shipment, I’ll know.’ What did he mean by that? How could he know?”

Aris glanced at Commander Nyx. Only a few senior officers knew about the spy and the bombs at Spiro and Feln. The attacks had been treated by the news vids as Safaran air raids. She raised a brow, silently making her request. Dysis was privy to so much secret intel already. . . . She deserved to know about the spy, too.

Commander Nyx nodded slightly.

Aris turned to Dysis. “We think Ward Balias has a spy within Atalantan ranks. A well-placed one. Maybe at Spiro or Feln . . . maybe multiple spies. The attacks on both stationpoints began with internal bombs. Ones that could only have been planted by someone inside those points.”

Dysis’s mouth dropped open. “I thought the intel leak was from our comms or something.”

Aris sighed. “That was the general consensus until the Spiro bombing.”

Something changed in Dysis’s face. She grabbed Aris’s arm, her fingers digging in hard enough to leave a mark. “Mann is in your special unit.”

Aris cocked her head, confused by the change of subject. “Yes, of course. He’s one of our best flyers.”

Commander Nyx stepped closer. “What of it?”

Dysis waved a hand, her gaze turning inward. “Something’s been bothering me. . . . I couldn’t think of what, but now . . . ” Her focus shifted back to Aris. “You said the unit passed extra security measures, right? Even Specialist Mann?”

“Yes. Why?” Specialist Mann had never been a concern. He’d been injured, a sprained ankle that he still favored when he walked. No way could he have set the bomb and gotten away in time.

The color drained from Dysis’s face. “I saw him that day . . . the day Spiro burned. I was trapped in the cafeteria, looking for a way out, and he came
sprinting
into the room. No limp. Nothing. We busted through a wall together. I’ve been trying to figure out what felt off about that memory, but it’s just occurred to me . . . he was injured
before
the attack. He shouldn’t have been able to sprint anywhere. And . . . you know, we all thought he was embarrassed, spraining it dancing with his wife, but he played up the story, didn’t he? He made sure
everyone
knew he was hurt.”

“You mean, you think he could have faked the injury to avoid the mission and detonate the bomb?” Aris shot a look at Commander Nyx, her breath caught in her throat. The thick-necked flyer had been one of the first to become her friend, back when she was Aristos. He had a wife and a family. Why would he—how could
he
possibly be the spy?

Commander Nyx sprang toward the door. “Major Vadim, bring Specialist Mann to my office.
Now.
Escort him yourself. Don’t let him out of your sight.”

***

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Mann said, looking from Nyx to Milek to Aris, his panic and confusion evident. Or convincing, anyway. He sat in a chair in Nyx’s office, his hands gripping the armrests tightly.

“Did you plant a bomb at Spiro?” Commander Nyx asked bluntly.

“No!” Mann shouted. He looked genuinely horrified. But they’d already found another witness—Nyal—who said he’d seen Specialist Mann running, apparently uninjured, during the aftermath of the attack.

“Are you a spy for Safara?” Commander Nyx asked. This was the third time she’d run through her questions. So far, his answers had remained constant.

Mann shook his head. “Look, I don’t know why you think I’m a spy, but I didn’t do
anything.
I want Atalanta to win this war as much as anyone else. I’m
loyal
to my dominion, dammit!”

Aris had never seen the man look so small. He huddled into himself, his big head drooping, shoulders slumping. A seed of doubt unfurled. Could there be another explanation?

With a huff of impatience, Commander Nyx gestured to one of the soldiers lining the walls. They were there for protection, in case Specialist Mann tried to escape. “Take him to the containment area. Strip him of belts, shoelaces, anything he can use as a weapon or to injure himself. I’ll be down to speak with him more later.”

Specialist Mann protested, even as the soldiers pulled him up from the chair and escorted him into the hallway. Nyx rubbed a hand hard along her temple. “He
did
pass our security checks.”

“It’d be worth talking to the mender who examined him after the attack,” Milek suggested. “He couldn’t have faked a sprain during an exam. If the mender doesn’t have a record of his ankle injury, that would validate our suspicions about it.”

Commander Nyx nodded. “You two do that. I need to reach out to Ward Nekos. Alistar’s intel is too important to get sidetracked. When you’re finished with the mender, report back here.”

As they hurried down the hallway, Aris’s stomach churned.

Milek was silent beside her, lost in his own thoughts.

“Do you think Mann is the spy?” she asked quietly.

Milek shot her a glance. “I was holding onto the hope that the spy had blown himself up. Now, I don’t know. If it
is
him, it’s a mercy we discovered it now. He won’t be able to tell Balias about our plans to retrieve the flaming scorpion.”

But how much had he already told them? Did Ward Balias know about the invisible wingjets? Aris felt as if she might be sick. “Balias will know Alistar sold him out.”

“I keep thinking about the timing,” Milek said. He slowed, and Aris paced with him, watching his face. “Alistar is embedded in Safara to reveal the location of the flaming scorpion. If it’s in this bunker as we suspect, and we recover it, then there’s no reason for him to continue spying, right?”

An unexpected flutter of hope filled her. “Right. So if we could get a message to him as soon as we have the weapon—”

“He should have time to get away before Balias knows the warehouse has been compromised.” Milek’s sky-blue eyes lit.

“But how will they contact him?” Aris asked. Her mind turned over the problem, examining all angles. “The diatous veil only transmits
from,
not
to
.”

“A simple, encoded comm,” Milek suggested. He stopped walking entirely and leaned against the wall. She adopted the same position beside him, their arms touching. “Or a rendezvous with another spy.”

“Or . . . wait.” Aris tapped an excited rhythm against the wall with her fingertips. “Remember when Dianthe played back the conversation? Ward Balias told Alistar to take a fleet of wingjets to retrieve the weapon. He gave the time, the date.”

Milek paced a couple of steps away and back. “Okay, so we know where Alistar’s going to be and when. Oh.” He looked up at her, realization dawning. “You’re saying we intercept
Alistar
as well. One team to retrieve the weapon, and one team to go get Alistar.”

Aris pushed away from the wall. “Exactly. We send an invisible wingjet to pace Alistar’s convoy, and radio them when the weapon’s been recovered. Then they can overwhelm Alistar’s companions and lead his wingjet to safety over the border.”

“That could definitely work.” Milek grinned. He took her hand as his face fell into more serious lines. “But remember, it’s a suggestion. We have no authority over the strategy Ward Nekos and Commander Nyx choose. They may decide to do it another way.”

“Well, then. We need to tell them
our
way, so they can make the right choice.” Aris started down the hall, back toward Nyx’s office. “You talk to Mann’s mender. I’ll talk to Commander Nyx.”

She twisted to blow him a kiss; he answered it with a jaunty salute. Aris practically bounced down the hall. They’d get the weapon and they’d save Alistar. It was time things went their way.

That night, dusk fell in a great orange curtain, rimmed in electric pink clouds. Aris chose to believe the dazzling show was a good omen.

Milek was still in his meeting with Mann’s menders, but he’d be arriving any minute. Hopefully with answers. Either way, Mann wouldn’t be flying tonight. And without him, they needed one of the recon flyers to pilot the second transport jet.

“We’ll be reorganizing a bit tonight,” she announced. “Specialist Mann will not be joining us on this mission.” Her team didn’t ask questions, but she could see their confusion. “Lieutenant Riatta, how are you with the larger jet?”

Theo’s slight body tensed, poised for action. “I can handle it, sir.”

Aris nodded. “Specialist Nesta will join you as your retriever. Specialist Yannis, you ride with them as well. We might need extra hands on the ground.” She focused on Santos. “Lieutenant, I need you to speak with Major Vadim when he gets here. Your mission will be slightly different.”

Ward Nekos and Commander Nyx had gone for Aris’s plan, thank the Gods. Tonight, if all went well, they’d recover the flaming scorpion
and
remove Alistar from danger. Nekos had even gotten his techies to do some magic, creating a fall guy out of one of the scientists they suspected was part of the flaming scorpion project, with a fake intel trail leading straight from him to one of Atalanta’s intelligence officers. The more arrows pointing away from Alistar the better.

Lieutenant Santos’s jet, with Specialists Renz and Otto, would intercept Alistar and draw him away from his escort once Aris and the rest of the team retrieved the weapon. But they’d built yet another fail-safe for Alistar; if the mission went south and they couldn’t retrieve the weapon, Santos’s orders were to engage Alistar’s team and make it look like Elom was being attacked, preserving his cover.

In some ways, Aris wished they had a larger fleet going in—an army maybe—but she reminded herself that the Safarans weren’t expecting this. For once, they had the upper hand.

Milek ran out onto the tarmac just as Aris ordered her team to their wingjets. She shot him a questioning glance.

“I’ll tell you once we’re in the air,” he said, slowing as he approached her. “Our mission window is closing.”

Aris nodded. “Explain Lieutenant Santos’s parameters to him. I’ll get the rest of the team sorted.”

He headed toward the transport jets. As Aris made her way to their recon, a strange sound caught her attention and she changed course. In the deeper shadows of the hangar, away from the brilliant dregs of light still lining the sky, Aris found Pallas drooped over her knees, gasping for breath.

Another heave rocked her body, and the sour smell of vomit hit Aris’s nose.

“Pallas, are you okay?” she asked, squelching her impatience. They didn’t have time for more complications, but she also needed her flyers healthy.

Pallas lifted her head with a sudden ferocity. Voice hoarse, she said, “Fine, Lieutenant. Just . . . bad food at dinner.”

Something told Aris this had nothing to do with bad food. Her impatience melted into concern. “This is about the anxiety, isn’t it?”

Pallas hesitated, then nodded.

“What’d you do tonight, after dinner? Before you were called for this mission.” Aris kept her voice casual but warm, thinking of the conversations she’d had with Milek in the early days. He’d stayed so calm, disconnected but not disinterested. He’d made her feel like she was still a soldier even as she wept.

“I . . . I read a comm from my family,” Pallas said.

“That’s good,” Aris said encouragingly. “It’s important to keep those connections alive. Speaking with your family, reminding yourself of the life waiting for you when the war is over, will help you fight the negative thoughts and fear.” Even though Aris ultimately had chosen to leave her home again, the months she spent there, gradually building her courage in the air, had helped her put the panic to rest.

“What if I fear
for
them?” Pallas whispered.

Once, Dianthe had told Aris exactly what she needed to hear. So she said the words again now. “Tia, you are strong enough. Strong enough for this fight, and strong enough for your family. You are not alone. You are part of this team, and we will be with you at every step.” She tried to keep her voice steady. “I couldn’t fly for months after my first brush with Elom, and the only thing that worked for me was putting one foot in front of the other each day and making an effort, however small. That and the fact that Major Vadim told me I was valuable, necessary, and that his team would wait for me. As long as it took.”

Pallas took a deep, shuddering breath. “We don’t have long this time.”

“We don’t,” Aris agreed. “But we do need you.
You
are valuable and necessary. What you do today will ensure your family’s safety more than anything else. This retrieval could mark the beginning of the end of this war.”

At her words, Pallas’s head came up. The woman took a couple more breaths, wiped her face, and moved slowly into the fading light. “You’re right,” she said with a new resolve. “This is the best thing I can do for them.”

After that, things moved quickly. The team was up in the air within minutes.

Aris waited until they were well on their way before muting her comms. “So? What did the mender say?”

Milek exhaled. “He said that in his professional opinion, Specialist Mann’s ankle was indeed sprained. Adrenaline may have allowed Mann to run on it normally for a short time. But . . .”

Aris didn’t
want
Mann to be the spy, though there was a certain comfort in the possibility that the leak was contained. “But?”

Milek shifted in the small confines of the recon. “But this mender only saw him after the attack. And the mender who originally examined him, back in Spiro, well . . . he’s dead. We can’t confirm the original diagnosis. It’s possible . . . ”

“What? That he pretended to have a sprained ankle, and then
actually
sprained it? That seems unlikely.” She stared out at the darkening sky, trying to calm her agitation.

“I know,” Milek replied. “It’s mad. But Commander Nyx isn’t convinced that the mender’s explanation exonerates Mann. She wants to question him some more.”

“What a mess.” Aris slumped in her seat.

Milek put a hand over hers on the wingjet controls. “Don’t think about it now. Let’s focus on the mission. This is our big break.”

Aris smiled, imagining the relief they’d feel when the flaming scorpion was in their possession.

It took them just over an hour to reach Safara. Lieutenant Santos paced them until they crossed the border, and then he peeled off, heading toward Safara’s capital. Dianthe had found a way to patch Alistar’s secure comm feed to the wingjet; Santos would be able to track Alistar’s progress and intercept him once the weapon was secure.

Considering her tangled thoughts, Aris was surprised at how calm her hands were on the controls, especially as they crossed into the airspace where she’d been shot down.

“Just a little dance, right?” Milek said, a grin warming his voice.

An answering smile curved her lips. “That’s right.”

The warehouse came into view a short time later. Like the other building they’d raided, this one was lit by several bright floodlights and guarded by a contingent of Safaran soldiers.

Although it would make their jobs more difficult, Aris was comforted by the abundance of guards. That meant there was something worth guarding inside.

“We’ll do a single pass with fire,” Milek announced to the team. “Target the soldiers and wingjets stationed away from the building. We don’t want anyone blowing the warehouse by mistake, you hear me?”

“Yes sir”s chorused over the comms.

Everything came down to this moment. Aris wondered how Pallas was holding up. She was glad Baksen was there with her.

They swung around and approached the warehouse from the north. Aris studied the three blips on the nav to confirm her team was in correct position. Riatta didn’t seem to be having trouble allowing for the larger size of the transport. Over comms, she heard the quickened breathing of her soldiers. They were more than ready.

“
Now
.” Milek’s voice rang across the comms.

Aris shot forward. Milek’s hands flashed on the gunner controls. Beneath them, red streaks lit the landing pad. By the time the rest of the team had passed over, three Safaran wingjets were in flames. The entrance to the warehouse swarmed with the surviving soldiers. It was obvious they were in a panic, trying to figure out where the threat was coming from. Milek ordered another pass, and the scurrying men disappeared under a cloud of smoke.

“Think that did it?” Aris asked, as they regrouped to the north again.

“There will be survivors. But we’ve evened the field. Let’s get down there.” Milek opened comms to the rest of the team. “Land on this side of the warehouse. They’re focused on the entrance. Let’s see what’s left defending the back.”

Landing was difficult with the veiling tech engaged, but Aris’s flyers had been practicing for weeks and all three wingjets touched down with minimal issues. Before they exited, they watched for guards, but the bombing kept everyone busy. No one was worried about the back door.

Still, Aris’s heart pounded as she disembarked, her solagun at the ready. Shouts and the bitter scent of burning fuel filled the air. She reminded the team to count their steps to the door, so they’d easily find the invisible wingjets again. The back of the building was dark, but the glow from the wreckage lit their way. Lieutenant Riatta and Specialist Tekla flanked Aris and Milek, Specialists Yannis and Nesta right behind. Pallas and Baksen brought up the rear.

Night clung under the eaves. A white panel stood out on the wall next to the rusted door: a handprint-activated lock. Without pausing, Milek shot it with his solagun. The laser cut through the pad, and the door clanked open.

Aris let out the breath she’d been holding. Milek shot her a glance, and then carefully made his way inside. She stepped over the threshold next, her team close at her back.

Haphazard strips of dim, flickering lighting revealed a vast space. Tall wire shelves lined the long room, with a wide, empty avenue running between. Aris’s eyes flew to the shelves, searching.

Every single one was empty.

It’s okay. The weapon is supposed to be underground.

“We need to find access to the bunker,” Aris said.

But Milek didn’t answer. He was staring ahead.

Aris followed his gaze, and her breath froze.

A solid wall of soldiers, thirty strong at least, emerged from the darkness at the far end of the warehouse, advancing slowly. It was like they’d been waiting,
expecting
Aris and her team to come through that door.

She didn’t hesitate. “Run!”

Her team scattered toward the tall racks. Aris sprinted to the left, aiming for the deeper shadows. Gunfire erupted, echoing loudly enough to rattle the empty shelving. She ducked but kept moving. Milek swerved in front of her. To her right, Specialist Tekla went down.

“Stop it! Don’t hurt them!” a female voice shouted. “Balias wants them alive!”

Horror broke through Aris in a bone-shaking wave. The voice had come from behind her. She twisted. Time slowed. In the middle of the warehouse, Pallas stood, unmoving, as Safaran soldiers streamed around her. Betrayal and disblief burned deep in Aris’s gut. Pallas met her gaze, eyes wide, just as a heavy body slammed Aris to the ground.

Another voice echoed over the din. “The ward only wants Haan and Vadim alive. Kill the rest.”

Then everything else was lost in the bitter hiss of solagun fire and a woman’s hopeless scream.