Torn Sky (Rebel Wing Trilogy, Book 3) (Rebel Wing Series) (7 page)

Dysis had a lot of questions for Aris, and eight long hours until she could ask them. She settled into the chair, the ache in her back as familiar now as an old friend, and wondered what secrets she was about to hear.

Tia Pallas stepped outside into the cool, windy night. The rest of the team milled around under the lights, their bodies throwing long, humped shadows across the landing pad. Tia noted low murmurs and frequent glances toward the glass doors.

“What’s going on?” she asked, as Otto joined her.

“Rumor is we’re going on our first real mission,” he said, eyes bright.

Her stomach clenched. “An actual mission? Is there intel on this weapon we’re supposed to be finding?”

Shrugging, he said, “I heard they got some chatter over Safaran comms, but Renz swears it was full-on spy stuff. No one actually knows what the mysterious intel
is.
It’s all speculation, really. Probably just going to be training as usual.” With that, he wandered away to gossip with Mann.

Tia swallowed down a burning lump at the back of her throat. This was what they’d been training for. This was what she’d endured those horrible security screenings for. She could handle it. She
had
to.

Aris and Major Vadim strode out of the building.

“Fall in!” Major Vadim yelled.

Tia took her place in the front row, fisting her hands to keep them from shaking.

Aris’s voice broke over them. “We have our first actionable intel,” she announced, her excitement clear. “Our techies picked up chatter about the movement of a large object from one Safaran warehouse to another, in a remote location fifty miles from the Atalantan border. We believe the object is the weapon we’ve been seeking. So when you’re up in the skies, remember that
tonight
, we could turn the tide of the war. Let’s go!”

All around her, the small group broke protocol to cheer. Tia tried to smile, and nodded as Lieutenant Riatta clapped a hand on her shoulder, but her pulse raced fast enough to make her dizzy.

It wasn’t long before the team was up in the air. Tia was okay until Aris gave the order to flip on the veiling tech. She still couldn’t get used to flying without the visible nose of her wingjet to ground her.

Keep it together. Keep it together.

“You need to talk to Major Vadim,” Baksen said, too low for the comms to pick up. “Or Nyx. Someone. You can’t keep on like this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Tia said, trying to inject confidence into her voice. “I’m fine.”

He grabbed her hand off the controls and held it up. In the pink glow of the nav, they both could see her fingers shaking. She yanked her hand away.

A new anxiety filled her. He wasn’t going to back off. He thought he was doing what was best for her, but he
wasn’t
. He would ruin everything. If they decided she wasn’t fit to fly, if they took this away from her . . .

She’d have nothing.

“When this mission is over, I’ll talk to Lieutenant Haan,” she offered reluctantly. “Not Major Vadim. As a woman, there’s already a stigma. I don’t . . . I don’t want them to send me home.”

Baksen needed something from her, so she’d give him something. But maybe Aris
could
help.

If
they survived this mission.

“Alright. But soon, okay?” Baksen cleared his throat. “I worry about you.”

Tia nodded. She kept her eyes on the red, wingjet-shaped dots on the nav, indicating the rest of the unit. They’d been training every night to fly in formation; it was a lot harder to keep the proper distance when all of the wingjets were invisible. Everyone erred on more safe space than less, thankfully.

Still, as they crossed into Safaran airspace, Tia’s heart galloped painfully in her chest. They stayed high in the sky, above the Safaran military traffic. The farther into Safara they flew, the worse her hands shook. She kept waiting for the enemy wingjets to change course and fire at them.

Slowly, an iron band tightened across her chest.

“Keep it together,” Baksen said, echoing her internal mantra. “You’ve got this, Pallas. We’re almost there.”

That was the problem. She didn’t want to get
there
. She didn’t want to fight anymore. She just wanted to go home. She wanted to see her family—her mother and father, her little brother—safe and happy. But she couldn’t stop, couldn’t leave this job unfinished. Too much was at stake.

Below, a large warehouse came into view.

“This is Recon One, we have visible confirmation of the target,” Aris’s voice rang over the comms.

Tia’s reply caught in her throat. One by one the other flyers reported in. At last, Baksen added, “Recon Two has visual.” He nudged her arm.

“I’m okay,” she croaked. She took a deep breath, pressing her expanding rib cage savagely against the invisible iron that restrained her. She was a soldier. She wouldn’t let her mind shut her down. She would do what needed to be done.

“Pallas and Mann, you stay in the air and cover us,” Major Vadim ordered. “Everyone else, I need you on the ground. Lieutenant Santos, land the transport nearest the door. If the weapon is inside, we’ll need to transfer it quickly.” His voice hummed with anticipation. It was clear Major Vadim hoped their first mission would be the only one they needed to find Safara’s most dangerous weapon.

Pallas didn’t know what was waiting there for them, but she was happy to stay in the sky.

On the nav, the red dot representing Aris’s lead recon dipped. One by one, the other two recons and Lieutenant Santos’s transport found landing spots surrounding the warehouse. The building was set well beyond the nearest city, with a field of open space that made it easy to land undetected.

Tia flew in large, slow circles above, careful to avoid Mann’s trajectory. When a flash of light lit the night below them, her heart hiccupped in her throat.

“They’re taking out the guards,” Baksen murmured.

Tia nodded, but she couldn’t speak. Any second, there’d be a full-on skirmish. A weapon this important wouldn’t be protected by a couple of guards. Surely there was an army inside.

Below them, the darkness was interrupted by a few security lights. No flashes of solagun fire, and above—here in the sky—there was no sign of reinforcements. Tia looked up at the swirling stars. What would it be like to fly up
there
, the cold and silence absolute?

A voice crackled over comms. “Lots of Military equipment here, but no bomb. Looks like it wasn’t the right shipment.” Major Vadim’s disappointment was evident. “Stand by to return to Mekia.”

A thread of relief unraveled the iron cage crushing her lungs. There would be no fight tonight. They were all going home.

After dinner, Aris headed back to her room. She found Pallas sitting on the edge of her bed, head in hands.

“Everything okay?” Aris asked. With a sigh, she flopped onto her own cot and unzipped her jacket. She only had a few minutes before she was due to meet Milek in the Officer’s Lounge, but it felt good to get off her feet.

Pallas raised her chin, revealing pale cheeks streaked with the trails of tears.

“Tia?” Aris sat up and leaned closer. “What’s wrong?”

Pallas wiped at her face almost savagely. Dark moons marred the skin beneath her eyes. When had she gotten so thin? Aris suddenly took note of the bony angles of Pallas’s elbows, the narrowness of her shoulders.

“I . . . I want to tell you,” Pallas said haltingly. “But I don’t
know
what’s wrong. Not really.”

Aris studied the girl’s expression, searching for her own answers. “Sometimes it helps to talk. My grandmother used to call it ‘holding your worries to the light.’”

Pallas took a deep breath, and then the words poured out of her, fast and messy, clogged with unshed tears. “I can’t stop my hands from shaking every time I climb into a wingjet. I have these visions. . . . I’ll be sitting in the rec room or the cafeteria, minding my own business, when I look up and the dead are staring back at me. I can’t take a full breath. I . . . I can’t sleep, or hardly think. Every moment, I’m waiting for the sound of explosions or solagun fire, even when I’m alone in my room. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Aris found her own heart racing as Pallas talked. It wasn’t that long ago that she’d been haunted by her own demons, her own shaking hands.

“I went through something similar after Ward Vadim’s rescue,” Aris said. “And it’s hard. I couldn’t fly for three months. In my case, it helped, I think, to have a break. I can arrange for you to take medical leave—”

“
No
.” Panic filled Pallas’s face, widening her eyes and tightening the skin around her mouth. “Please don’t send me away. I need to be here. I need to do my job. It’s the only thing keeping me from falling apart entirely.”

Her vehemence was surprising; Aris had expected a protest but not genuine fear. Still, Aris couldn’t discount the reaction. Her own break had been forced. Maybe she would have recovered faster if she’d been allowed to stay with her unit.

“Is there anything that makes you feel safe?” Aris asked, looking for other solutions.

Pallas rubbed a hand across her forehead as she stared at the floor. After a moment, she shook her head.

Aris put a hand on her shoulder. “Keep thinking about it. When you find the thing that brings you comfort, hold on to it in your mind. Lift it up. Let it be a ward against the fear and pain.”

Pallas met her gaze for a few seconds before looking away again. “Thank you, Aris. I mean Lieu—”

“Aris is fine in here, Pallas. I’m your friend. You can talk to me anytime.” She patted her shoulder again. “I have to go meet Major Vadim. Evening formation isn’t for a while yet. Why don’t you take a rest?”

As Aris headed down the hall, Pallas’s words followed her.
The dead are staring back at me.
She probably should talk to Commander Nyx. Pallas’s inner turmoil had been a concern with her psych eval, but she’d seemed to have a handle on it. If it was bad enough, though, it could compromise the safety of the rest of the team. On the other hand, Aris understood Pallas’s panic at the prospect of leaving. She’d come here to do a job, and the thought that she might have to give that up . . . for all Aris knew, it could make Pallas’s anxiety and depression worse. Pallas knew what they were up against, and if she were home, she’d be powerless to fight it.

If she wanted to try to work through this, Aris respected that. She’d keep a closer eye on her, try to help her along. If things got really bad, Aris would make the call then.

Mekia’s Officer’s Lounge was much larger than Spiro’s, with several sagging couches and low tables. A bank of digitablet ports clustered beneath a large monitor showed nothing but endless, depressing news vids with the sound off. Quiet music provided a counterpoint to the hum of conversation. Late afternoon sunshine arced through the windows, drawing golden lines along the floor.

Aris headed to the boxy, faded blue couch in the back, away from a group of officers shouting over a splots game, and sank down next to Milek.

“There you are,” he said, breaking into a smile. “I was about to do a little S and R to find you.”

Aris relaxed into the cushions. “Pallas wanted to talk. She’s been having some trouble recently, since the Spiro bombing, I think. Bad dreams, shaking hands . . .”

“Do you want me to talk to her?” Milek asked, concern lacing his words.

Aris bumped his knee with hers. “It’s okay. I know what she’s going through. I can help her.”
I hope
.

Milek slumped down, resting his head on the back of the couch. “Nice to have a minute to breathe, eh?”

Aris wished she could reach out and hold his hand. It’d been days since their last “briefing” in a storage closet at the quiet end of the stationpoint. Instead, she leaned her head back, too, though she feared that if she closed her eyes for even a minute, she’d fall asleep. The late-night training sessions and missions were taking their toll.

From the corner of the room came a shout; the splots game was getting rowdy. A few menders stretched out on various pieces of furniture, eyes drooping or full-on sleeping, oblivious to the noise.

“I think we need the night off,” Aris said as she stared at the tired menders, thinking of the circles under Pallas’s eyes. “The whole unit. Can we swing it?”

“There’s no new intel,” Milek replied. “And last night’s mission went smoothly, even without our desired outcome. I think a night off is a good idea.” He picked his head up from the back of the couch and looked into her eyes.

“I hear Dysis has moved back into your room,” he added. “Maybe tonight would be a good time to talk to Commander Helos about our, uh, living situation.”

The heat in his gaze sent an answering fire scorching through her. “That’s an intriguing thought.”

Pallas needed support, but Dysis would be there to keep an eye out. And what
Aris
needed, what made
her
feel safe, was falling asleep in Milek’s arms.

He stood, a new energy in his movements. “I’ll go inform Commander Nyx that we’re canceling training. We can announce it when the unit meets for evening formation. Then I’ll go find Commander Helos.”

Aris’s exhaustion dissipated as quickly as smoke. She stood, too. “I’ll go get my things together, see if I can hunt down Dysis and let her know. Her shift should be over soon.”

Milek nudged her shoulder, his expression oddly boyish. “This is good. It’s time, right?”

Just as Aris and Milek moved toward the door, a voice rang over the intercom. “Major Vadim and Lieutenant Haan to Commander Nyx’s office immediately.”

Aris could barely contain her groan. Milek slumped. “Figures,” he muttered.

So much for their plans.

***

“A Safaran wingjet was seen near Feln,” Commander Nyx said as soon as Milek and Aris entered her office, which looked remarkably like the one she’d had at Spiro, though the addition of a window gave it a less claustrophobic feel. “It’s probably nothing, but I want you to check it out.”

“The full unit?” Milek asked.

Commander Nyx shook her head. “No, but take an invisible recon. If it’s a spy, I’d like you to follow, see what he’s up to.”

“Yes, sir,” Aris said. Her brain was busy shifting gears from excitedly planning an evening alone with Milek—preferably in bed—to planning the mission. She couldn’t entirely squelch her disappointment. Hopefully Commander Nyx would assume her frown was one of concentration.

At least the rest of the team would get a break.

As soon as Nyx dismissed them, they headed down the hall toward the landing pad.

Outside their recon, Milek reached for her hand. In the windy dusk, their faces were gilded by the fading light. Aris gripped his fingers tightly, trying to tell herself that this small connection was enough. And it was. For now, at least.

“It won’t always be like this, you know,” Milek said, as if reading her thoughts.

Aris raised a brow. “You mean back-to-back missions and constant danger?” Truthfully, it was hard to imagine their lives any other way.

He smiled, his scar hitching. “Yeah. Someday we’ll fly off just to watch the sunset.”

“Or to Panthea to see a show.” Aris leaned up and kissed him, the feel of his lips against hers threatening to drive every thought from her mind. Reluctantly, she drew away. “Someday.”

It was a short flight to Feln, but full darkness had fallen by the time they arrived. Aris employed the veiling tech and did a sweep of the skies around the stationpoint, looking for the Safaran wingjet. Several miles away from Feln, there was still no sign of the enemy jet.

“Why did he leave the area so quickly?” Aris asked, after another sweep came up empty.

“We need to know exactly where the wingjet was spotted,” Milek said. “Perhaps it’ll give us a hint at what he was looking for. Let’s go talk to Feln’s commander.”

With a nod, Aris banked, sliding over the quiet forest as invisible as a ghost. A few miles from the stationpoint, she flipped off the invisibility. Though she’d come to enjoy the sensation of being so close to the sky, she was still relieved at the sight of the jet’s nose reappearing. She let out a little breath.

“Flying this thing is an act of faith.” Milek settled back into his chair. “We’re asked to believe in something that cannot be seen and trust that it’s still there, holding us up.”

Aris let out a little laugh. “You sound like a philosopher.”

He shrugged. “Or someone deeply uncomfortable with his faith,” he said, a rueful smile in his voice.

A few minutes later, they touched down on Feln’s wide landing pad. It had been months since Aris had been here. The mender stationpoint was smaller than Mekia, and farther from the heaviest fighting. They’d often transported the soldiers they’d rescued here.

As Aris landed, it felt strange not to see the bustle of menders and their assistants rushing the wingjet, inquiring after the wounded. Instead, only Commander Stone was waiting.

“Thank you for coming so quickly,” he said, when Aris and Milek jumped down onto the tarmac.

Milek saluted. “We didn’t see any enemy forces. We’ll need the exact coordinates of where the Safaran wingjet was seen, so we can take a closer look.”

Commander Stone nodded, his slick, black hair catching the glow of the nearest floodlight. “We’ve got the data for you. Right this way.”

As they turned toward the doors, a sound like a low crack of thunder filled the air. And, in a rush, the center of the building exploded in flames.