Free The Diatous Wars 1: Rebel Wing by Tracy Banghart

pressed a finger to the photo, right in the heart of Atalanta, where a silver shimmer indicated Panthea. There was a hissing noise, and the wall slid away.
    “A secret room?” Aris asked, eyes wide.
    “Clandestine affairs cannot be conducted out in the open, can they?” Dianthe said, with a little smile.
    The room was small and windowless, with a panel of monitors and equipment along one wall. In the center, a large white chair was bolted to the floor. The air was cold and had a faint bitter scent, like disinfectant and metal filings.
    Aris couldn’t help it. She laughed.
    Dianthe looked at her, brows raised.
    “Sorry. It’s just . . . I thought we’d already done the torture part.” She swallowed back another nervous giggle as she followed Dianthe into the room.
    The tall woman drew a handful of silver disks from a tray on a table against the wall. “With these I’m going to map your body. I’ll also record your voice,” she said, holding up another strange instrument. “And then, with the data, I’ll create a holographic second skin, called a diatous veil. It’ll smooth your curves, give you a less delicate nose.” She studied Aris’s face. “I’ll adjust your cheekbones,” she continued, tracing Aris’s skin with a long, feather-light finger, “And give you a more pronounced Adam’s apple. A voice modulator connected to the veil will lower your voice.”
    “Does it hurt?” Aris asked, eying the gleaming disks in Dianthe’s hand.
    “Not particularly.” Dianthe returned the electrodes to the tray. “The data collection is painless, and the veil itself is only an image.” She glanced back. “You have to be careful though. If someone touches you, they’ll feel your real shape. When you’re wearing body armor it won’t be a problem, but you’ll have to learn to keep your distance in training and during meals. We’ll practice.”
    Aris nodded. It terrified her, the thought of being surrounded by strange men. Trying to hide among them as if she belonged.
    “And you mustn’t, under any circumstances,” Dianthe continued, “remove your clothing in front of others. The diatous veil is not entirely correct, anatomically speaking.”
    A blush swarmed up Aris’s cheeks. “There’s no way I’ll have my own room. Where will I change clothes?”
    Dianthe settled her hands on her hips. “The network is extensive. You’ll be paired with another disguised female as your sectormate. The two of you will go through training together, bunk together. You’ll be responsible for keeping each others’ secret.”
    “There are that many of us?” Aris asked, in wonder. Would she be able to tell the difference?
    “There are enough.”
    “So I am Aristos Haan.” Aris rolled it on her tongue, trying to fit it around her real name, smoothing it out so it sounded natural in her mind.
This might actually work.
She smiled.
    “Alright,
Aristos
,” Dianthe said, emphasizing the name. “Sit.” She gave Aris a little push into the chair.
    “We’re starting the body mapping now?” Anything to have a break from the endless running and sparring.
    “Yes,” Dianthe said. “After we shave your head.”
    Aris felt as if someone had punched her in the stomach. “After we do
what
?”

Chapter 13
    “Stop that,” Dianthe snapped that night.
    Aris started and realized she’d been running her hand along her shaved head again.
    “Sorry.” She couldn’t get used to the smoothness, the curve of her skull so exposed. Calix had always loved her hair; it was long and thick, dark as the earth in which the olive trees grew. He was always running his hands through it, tucking it behind her ears.
    What would he think when he saw her, looking like any other soldier in Military? Would he mind that she cut her hair?
    Would he even recognize her?
    She took another bite of the roasted vegetable stew Dianthe had made for them and tried to keep her free hand tethered to the table.
    “It feels weird, you know? Having no