Attack on Phoenix (2 page)

Torsten ducked. The beam grazed the top of his ear, singeing his skin. The scent of burned flesh engulfed his nostrils.

"Hey!" He flicked a finger over the wound, smearing the small drop of blood over his lobe. "A little too close."

"Sorry, Tor." Leila winked and tossed him a towel. A smirk accentuated her high cheekbones. "Next time, move faster. It's really simple."

Torsten ignored Leila's taunts. She'd always been a better shot than him. If he didn't love his little sister so much, he might have gotten sick of it sooner. Their parents died when they were twelve and ten years old. Without any relatives willing to care for them, they were sent to the military tower to work off their parents' debt. Since then, he'd been her protector, even though it had become clear over the last six years she did a much better job of protecting him.

"You'll get it. Just keep trying. If you spent less time playing with that silly sword rather than your gun, you’d already be an expert." Leila clapped her brother's back and moved away. She bounced around the shooting range like a Blorian space frog, her ponytail flouncing on her shoulders. Leila waved the blaster in the air. "Better duck!"

Torsten dropped to the floor, his hands over his head.

Leila's laughter echoed in the otherwise empty room. "I was kidding. Get up, you big baby."

Torsten, his face red with shame, stood. He could never hurt Leila, but he'd also never forget the time she set him on fire, just to see if charred skin would smell like the burnt chicken the cook made for the defenders every night for dinner. She'd quickly put the fire out, tamping it down with a towel before he could even scream. Since then, Torsten had been a bit leery of his sister's impulses. She controlled them when the commander was around. All bets were off when they were alone.

A bell clanged over the intercom. "Time is up. Please exit the shooting range."

Leila rested a towel around her shoulders. Torsten wiped his dripping face with the soft, white towel. He grabbed his blaster and shoved it in his bag.

"You should see the medic," Leila said, scrutinizing his ear more closely. "It might scar." She shuddered, revulsion rippling over her face.

Torsten shrugged. "A scar never hurt anyone."

"Scars are disgusting. No one in their right mind would have one." Leila stopped, tossed her bag over her shoulder, and took a long look at her brother. "Then again, no one ever accused you of being in your right mind."

Torsten was about to make a comeback, albeit a lame one, when the steel door whooshed open. Two beefy guys stood in the doorway, their shoulders touching. They weren’t related, but from their matching sandy coifs to their blindingly white straight teeth to their bulging muscles, they might as well have been twins.

Leila glanced at the guy on the right. "Hey, Jacub." Her eyes languidly traveled over to the second one. She rested a hand on his forearm. "Hey, Mellok. I warmed up the room for you."

"I'll bet you did." Mellok ogled Leila.

Torsten fought the urge to vomit. His sister had harbored a crush on Mellok since she’d first realized boys were just as good of kissers as they were fighters, though that hadn’t stopped her from making her way through the other defenders. The hulking guy had ignored her until recently. Torsten caught them pawing each other in a dark hallway seven days ago. He was eighteen, still hadn't kissed a girl, and his sister was getting all the action.

Just another way Leila had surpassed him. Torsten loved his sister, but some days he wished he was better at something, anything, than she was.

Jacub pushed past his friend and dropped his bag on the floor. "It's our turn to practice, Mellok. Take your eyes off your girlfriend and get your butt in here."

Girlfriend? Torsten looked at Leila, who only had eyes for Mellok. "Come on, Leila. Let them practice." He tugged on his sister's elbow.

"See you later?" Leila asked Mellok, ignoring Torsten. Her arm was limp in his grasp. Annoyed, he let go.

Torsten pushed between the two and left, heading for his dormitory on the third deck. A smacking noise behind him made his stomach turn. They were kissing again.

"Tor! Hey, wait for me!" Leila's steps grew thunderous as she caught up with him a few moments later. "Sorry. I didn't realize I was going to see Mellok. I look so horrid, and I smell even worse." Leila lifted an arm and sniffed.

Torsten's nose wrinkled at the onslaught of body odor. They'd practiced hard. At least he had the courtesy to keep his sweat to himself.

"It's fine. Just don't be so obvious. You know how the commander feels about romance among the defenders. You don't want to get demoted." Torsten stopped, pushing a button on the wall. He watched the marks above, indicating which floor the lift was stopped on. Thirty floors. It wouldn't be long.

"It'll be fine. Commander Bartok won't care as long as Mellok and I are platonic in the classroom and on the battlefield." Leila grabbed one of her blond curls and twirled it around her finger. "What do you think of Mellok, Tor? Do you like him?"

Torsten could think of hundreds of guys he liked better than Mellok. Glassy-eyed, Leila stared at the ceiling, a small smile playing at the corner of her lips. How could he begrudge her a first love? It wasn't as if she would marry Mellok. Torsten would only have to put up with him until Leila showed interest in someone else. Knowing his sister, it wouldn't take long.

"He's great," Torsten said. "Really."

“You know, he’s not just good looking. He’s really smart, too. Mellok is going to be a brilliant engineer someday. You should see the weapons he’s been building."

Torsten turned back toward the closed lift doors. He rolled his eyes, careful she wouldn't see. It was hard to believe this was the same girl who kicked his butt back in the shooting range. The doors opened, and Torsten stepped onto the lift, tugging Leila behind him.

"So," Leila said, her head cocked to one side, "I think they're going to choose me."

Torsten raised an eyebrow. "Really?" Their commander had announced the upcoming expedition. She'd told the defenders they'd be watched every moment, and only the best would be chosen. Torsten was resigned to serving in the military, but he had no illusions about his place. He would never stand out, not when his little sister continually out-shined him. She was simply better at everything. Leila was a natural at hand-to-hand combat and firing accuracy. She had no trouble speaking to people she didn't know, and they immediately liked her. She was exactly like their father had been. Torsten took after his mother: lanky, quiet, and painfully shy.

"Yeah." Leila pulled her gun out of her hip holster, spinning it in her palm.

The last time Torsten tried, he misfired and nearly shot a hole in the commander's arm. He hadn't tried since.

"Mellok thinks we have the best chance at being chosen." Leila looked up at Torsten, her hand on his forearm. "Mellok and I, I mean. Not..."

"You and me." Torsten laughed. "It's okay, Leila. I plan on getting through my time here, and then settling into a simple desk job. No one expects me to be chosen for an expedition."

He'd spent most of his life with his nose stuck in books and trying his hand at swordplay. Both were fairly useless as far as the war with the dragzhi went. The aliens they’d fought for a hundred years wouldn’t succumb to either, so Torsten was forcing himself to concentrate on his life in the military. He had no other choice. Their parents’ death had left them destitute. Military training was their only means of a steady income at such a young age. Had Torsten been on his own, he would have happily disappeared into a simple life in their only city, Hadar. He couldn't afford to be selfish as long as Leila needed him.

The military paid well. Better than any other career. Mainly because few came back after serving. Most died in battle with the dragzhi. It was a dangerous life, one Torsten knew he'd never master. Leila, though, had a chance at being one of the best. If she could get an assignment on a top tier expedition, and survive it, then she'd be secure. Maybe then Torsten could consider following his own path.

"When are they announcing the candidates?" Torsten asked.

Leila pulled her ponytail tight and straightened out her uniform. "Tonight. I've done everything right, Tor. They have to pick me. They just have to."

The lift played a tune, upbeat and heavy on the drums. It had reached their floor. The siblings stepped out onto the blue carpet. Leila strode across the hall to a window. Pressing her hand against the glass, she sighed. "I want to be out there. Don't you?"

His gaze settled on the night sky. Stars twinkled in the vast darkness. Spaceships darted in and out of the landing docks far below the dizzying height of their military tower. Torsten's stomach turned. He remembered the steady stream of vomit he'd ejected on his first ride up to the command station. He'd never been so high before, having grown up on the ground with the other common folk.

"Sure, Leila." He patted his sister's shoulder. "Come on, let's get back to our rooms. They're serving dinner soon, and I want to sneak in a shower first."

"Me, too." Leila stepped away from the window. "Then after dinner, I’ll know if I’m chosen for the expedition."

Torsten turned left, ready to head to the men’s wing, but Leila grabbed his hand, pulling him back.

"I promise I'll come back if I'm sent out. I won't die." Her eyes were wide.

She suddenly seemed like a child to him again. The little girl whose pigtails he'd yanked, until the day she'd slugged him so hard in the gut he couldn't breathe.

Torsten kissed his sister on the cheek. "You'll be fine. No one will get past you."

She smiled, spun on one heel, and ran down the hall to the right. Torsten sighed. He didn't want his sister to die, and he didn't want either of them to live under the thumb of the collectors. Their parents had left behind debts Torsten could never work off in a lifetime. He'd kept Leila sheltered, knowing there was little she could do to help at such a young age. But if he was chosen for the expedition, and if he died in battle, the reparation would be enough to pay their debts. Leila would be free.

There was no chance he’d be chosen. Torsten was useless in battle. Leila was an obvious choice. His stomach turned as he thought of his sister stepping into one of their few spaceships, and being sent into space to fight the dragzhi.

Torsten ignored his reflection in the mirror. He knew exactly what he looked like. As a child, he had been short and pudgy with buck teeth and unruly hair. No one looked at him. Not girls, and not the boys. He wasn't strong or quick enough to excel in sports.

So Torsten remained on his own as much as possible. Leila never treated him differently, and she didn't seem to understand why the other kids invited her to play, but not him. Torsten had always insisted he had something else to do, or somewhere else to be. Leila had never questioned him, happy to be distracted by the other kids. It kept her busy when she might have been mourning over their parents instead.

Torsten wanted her to have a happy childhood. He did everything he could to assure her they were safe, despite losing their parents. And so far Leila had trusted in him. After the first six months, she'd stopped crying. Her smile had come back, and she'd grown into a beautiful young woman. Every year she attracted more attention, until Torsten started to worry about what kind of attention she was attracting. Luckily, his own looks kept him isolated, and he'd been able to focus solely on her happiness.

Until the previous summer. Torsten had gone through a change he could only describe as excruciating. His body had stretched out, his voice deepened, his cheekbones became more defined. Muscles sprang up from under the fat he began to shed. His huge teeth moved into place. He hadn't changed anything in his daily routine. His body had simply decided it was time to leave childhood behind and make him a man.

It brought a lot of attention from the same people who'd ignored him for the last six years. Torsten shied away even more. He was serious, and while he was interested in other women his age, he didn't want anything to do with the girls who'd called him names in the hall, or laughed at him when he finished last in every race.

He wouldn't be found in the hall pawing at a girl the way Mellok pawed at his sister. He couldn't let go of the years of insults they'd hurled at him. He'd gathered them as a shield, one he wore to protect himself from becoming one of them.

Torsten ran his fingers through his wet hair and pulled on a clean uniform. The silver fabric clung to his thighs and hugged his chiseled abs. Torsten sighed, wishing he could go back to the dumpy kid he'd been not long ago. He felt uncomfortable when most of the girls, and some of the guys, ogled him.

He pulled on his dirty combat boots. They needed to be shined, again. The blinking numbers on the clock told him there wasn't enough time. Not that it mattered. No one would see his dull boots from the back of the room. He wouldn't be on display like Mellok and Jacub and Leila. Torsten might have changed physically, but he still couldn't shoot straight or beat the other defenders in a fight. The military needed warriors, not scholars, for their expeditions.

Voices drifted past his door, hushed but excited. Boots stomped down the hallway to the mess hall. Torsten waited for the sounds to dissipate. He didn't need to walk to dinner with the others. He just needed to get there before the talk started. He could sit in the back and eat his roasted mystery meat in peace while they chewed on battle strategies.

Torsten pressed his ear to the door. Silence. Good. He waved his hand over the lock and it opened for him. Leila was the only other person who could enter without his permission. They'd hacked the computer system long ago to give her access. He tried not to think about whether she'd convinced Mellok to do the same with his quarters.

Torsten made his way to the mess. He got in line behind the other defenders, grabbed a tray, and pointed to a few random foods offered by the chef. He eyed the room. Near the front, Leila sat with Mellok, Jacub, and their rowdy friends. She tossed back her head, laughing, as Mellok told a story. His hands were in the air, waving, and his face was animated much like the cartoons they watched on the vidscreen as children. Torsten turned his back on them and made for the back of the room. His tray clattered as he dropped it on the table.

A girl with dark brown skin and no hair ignored him, her face buried in a book. The guy across from her sported dark hair flopping over his eyes, touching his nose that pointed slightly to the right. He didn't look up when Torsten sat across from him, just concentrated on eating his dinner. Torsten had sat with them for the last year, and they hadn't spoken once. He didn’t even know their names.

Torsten stabbed his mystery meat and chewed. It tasted like every other piece of meat he'd been fed since arriving at the tower. At first, he'd retched every time he ate. As a child of common parents, he'd never been fed anything that hadn't grown in their garden.

Unlike the military, where the bulk of their food was created by scientists, the grounders took great pride in their soil-grown food. Torsten hadn't forgotten the sweet burst of juice from a strawberry off the vine, or sinking his teeth into a crunchy apple. Sometimes he'd close his eyes while eating the tasteless slop they called food in the mess. It might have been optimized for nutrition, but there was no pleasure in eating anymore.

Fast, syncopated music played loudly in the mess, pulling Torsten's eyes to the front of the room. Commander Bartok stepped up on a dais. Her eyes swept the room, pausing briefly at Leila and Mellok's table before taking in the rest of them. She raised her hand, and the music quieted as all eyes were on her.

The commander cleared her throat and smiled. "You've all heard the rumors, I'm sure. It's time to choose a team for a new expedition."

Cheers erupted. Torsten and the two others at his table seemed to be the only quiet ones. The girl focused on her book, and the boy continued to ignore everyone, as if he existed in a vacuum.

Commander Bartok’s hand went in the air again. The mess quieted down quickly. "This is no ordinary expedition. In fact, it is something highly different." Her eyes fell as she inhaled. After few moments, she exhaled and looked up at the defenders again. Her eyes were grave. Her excitement was gone. "We've sustained a great loss in our war with the dragzhi. We have only one ship capable of space travel left. They destroyed the three that went up last week."

Gasps punctuated the silence. Torsten sat up straighter. The girl at his table dropped her book.

"As you know, we've been fighting with the dragzhi for a hundred years. Our defenders fight valiantly, protecting our people from invasion.”

Whispers spread through the mess. The dragzhi were ruthless killers, bent on destroying the humans. He didn't want Leila sent out on the front lines.

Commander Bartok held up both hands this time, urging calm. "You misunderstand. We are not sending any of you out to fight the dragzhi. That will fall to our most seasoned warriors. What we need is a group willing to do another task, one so important we will only send our best defenders. Because we need something more than guns. We must renew our search for the Key.”

Shock held the room silent prisoners. Torsten knew all about the Key. It was one of his favorite mysteries to research.

When the humans crashed on Phoenix, a name they gave the planet to signal their new beginning, a small group discovered tablets speaking of a race called the Menelewen Dored. Their translators decoded the text, part writing and part pictographs, giving rise to a religion that gave hope to those who believed they were marooned on Phoenix. Yes, the ancient texts spoke of great power. They spoke of an all-powerful Key. Yet the Key had never been found. They weren’t even sure it existed.

What it really told Torsten was their military had given up all hope of winning in battle. They needed the Key, if it even existed, to bolster morale. The texts said the Key kept the greatest power in existence locked away, to protect it from those who might misuse it. It was a child's tale. A thing of legend. Torsten knew it was a fool's errand.

Torsten's hands shook as the commander began calling names. Mellok. Andessa. Leila. He watched his sister jump out of her seat, pumping hands with the others at her table who'd been chosen. She turned to Mellok last, her hand lingering in his for just a moment longer than the others. They filed up to the dais, standing next to Commander Bartok.

Of course Leila would think this was an amazing honor, rather than a meaningless mission with no chance of success. She wouldn't believe him, even if he told her. In her mind, whatever the commanders said was true. If they told her to catch a five-legged bort from Pantalis, she'd cut off one of their six legs to complete her mission.

"I have only one more name to announce. The leader of this expedition. We debated for a long time on this, needing to choose the very best candidate. We require someone with knowledge of the Key, otherwise our recruits won't know where to look. After all, people on Phoenix had spent their lives searching for the Key. We require something to help us hold dominion over our planet. Perhaps the Key, as it is spoken of in the ancient texts, can bring power to us. We won't know until we find it."

Torsten sat on his hands to keep from drumming on the table. So his sister wouldn't be sent into battle in space. She'd be sent underground, away from all civilization, searching for a relic that probably wasn't even real.

"We've chosen our leader based on the library records. The person who has read the most about the ancient religion, who knows more than anyone else in this room," Commander Bartok continued, her eyes combing the room again. They stopped on Torsten's table. "Torsten Vikker. You are the final recruit to join, and leader of the group."

All eyes turned to Torsten. He swallowed the lump in his throat, then stood.

Torsten was a recruit. A deeply indebted one. He couldn't refuse for fear of being dishonorably discharged from the military. Then he would never pay his parents' debts. Leila would be in danger of enslavement. His legs feeling like the gelatinous mystery meat on his tray, Torsten made his way to the front of the room to stand next to his sister.

Leila's grin faded for only a moment. She pulled her gaze away from Torsten, plastering on a fake smile.

Torsten tried to put on a happy face as he glanced back at his table where his half-eaten dinner sat. The girl had gone back to her book. But the guy at his table had turned around, now facing the front. His dark hair pushed to the side, his eyes—one violet and one emerald—pierced into Torsten, as if he knew something about Torsten that he, himself, did not know.