Attack on Phoenix (4 page)

Torsten sat at the table in the briefing room, folding his hands on the cold, metallic surface. His feet tapped out a muted tune, his knee bouncing in time. From the waist up, he was the picture of calm. His mouth was set in determination. His eyes gazed with mild curiosity at the others around him, as if it were simply another meeting.

Leila sat next to him, Mellok across from her. Andessa sat next to Mellok. They were silent. Cautious. In the mess hall the day before, they had appeared excited, but by now they'd all had time to think. They’d formed questions. Calculated risks. The honor of being chosen had worn off quickly when they contemplated the reality of what might happen.

The door opened. Commander Bartok stepped through, her assistant Matthe on her heels. Matthe carried a stack of files in his arms, which he passed to each of the defenders at the table.

The others opened theirs and began studying the contents. Torsten rested a hand on the brown envelope, hesitant to look inside. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Leila's mouth drop. She quickly recovered before anyone else could see.

The commander cleared her throat, drawing the defenders’ eyes to her face. "As you see, we have handwritten these documents. I expect you to read them while we are in here." Her eyes lingered on Torsten. "When the meeting is done, Matthe will collect the folders and destroy them. There will be no digi record of your mission. In fact, there will no longer be a record of any of you. When you leave for this mission, you should be prepared to return only if you are victorious. If you are not, then no one will be able to question why."

Torsten could only assume the others had no living relatives like Leila and himself. Otherwise, they would be missed. He also couldn't help but note the convenience. If they failed, the military kept the reparation. There would be no one to inherit it in the event of their deaths.

Torsten reluctantly opened the folder. The paper tickled his fingertips. He was so unused to the feel of it. No one used paper anymore. There weren’t enough resources on Phoenix to mass produce it like there was on Earth. Everything was kept in digi files. He thumbed through the first few pages. It was just biographies of the team members. Torsten knew everything he needed to about them already.

Mellok’s parents died in a flight training incident when Mellok was a baby. They'd lived their entire lives in the military; he was raised specifically for this life. Andessa's parents had been over fifty when they’d had her, and died a few years ago on a hike in the desert. Torsten closed his eyes, burning their faces into his memory. He skimmed Leila's page. No surprises there. He flipped the page with the pictures of his parents. He remembered all too well what they looked like.

It was his page that gave him pause.

Torsten was surprised to see many things listed he thought he'd kept secret. His days spent in the library and which materials he’d read, including the pieces he'd read multiple times. A warm blush crept up his neck. Great. His fellow team members already knew he was different, but now they had proof of just how much. Yes, Torsten had been chosen to lead the mission because of his knowledge of the Key. Still, it chafed to see this evidence of his oddness written in black and white.

Torsten lifted the corner of his bio, only to find there were no other papers below it.

He looked at Commander Bartok. "Where are our orders?"

"As soon as everyone is done with the biographies, I'll give the official briefing." She rested her elbows on the table, forming a triangle with her fingertips and thumbs. Her expression was unreadable, and Torsten suddenly felt fear run its bony finger along his spine.

Something wasn't right. The disposable biographies. The lack of written orders.

"Are they on a digi file?" Torsten waited for a response. They didn't move.

"No." It was a simple answer conveying a very complicated meaning.

Torsten reached out, snatching the folders from each of the defenders. Only Leila was quick enough to slap a hand on hers and resist Torsten's pull.

"What are you doing?" Mellok stood and yanked his folder back from Torsten's grasp.

"There's nothing but bios in here. I've known all of you for the six years Leila and I have been here. I don't need to read these. Neither do you." Torsten waited, glaring at Leila. She patted Mellok's hand apologetically and then passed the folder to her brother. "Thanks."

Torsten pushed the folders back to Commander Bartok. "We need to know why we’re being sent on a ridiculous mission."

Commander Bartok blinked twice. A small smile twitched at the corners of her lips. It was the only indication Torsten was on to something. Relief coursed through him. For a brief moment he'd doubted his instincts.

Commander Bartok straightened out the messy pile of paperwork, tapped it once on the table and sat it back down, her hands folded on top of it. "I knew I chose the correct leader. The other defenders may tease you for your awkwardness, but you are very intelligent, Torsten."

Matthe stood behind the commander, his hands fidgeting with the buttons on his jacket.

"Tell us what's really going on," Torsten said. "I don't believe for one second the Key exists, much less that it can magically win the war against the dragzhi. And if you’ve been watching me as closely as that bio shows you have, then you know I know we’re not looking for the Key."

The other defenders gasped. Torsten ignored them.

Commander Bartok shook her head. "You know so little. All of you. We rescued you as young children. Your parents died, leaving you nothing. You owe the military your lives. We’ve given you everything: food, shelter, love. You owe us."

Torsten gripped the edge of the table until his knuckles ached from the pressure.

"I don't understand." Leila’s brow wrinkled. "What do you want from us? Why pretend to believe in the Key?"

Commander Bartok shook her head, the smile slithering farther up her cheeks. She swept her arm toward the window.

Torsten followed her gaze. The window stood from floor to ceiling and offered them a sweeping view of Hadar. The tower rose up from the ground where the majority of the citizens lived and toiled. From Torsten's view, the grounders were just ants below them. A vast jungle surrounded the tower, but the other side of Hadar held an endless desert. They had attempted to traverse the great seas of sand, but sandstorms stopped them every time. Eventually, they had decided the planet was barren of intelligent life.

"Mentioning the Key raises morale among our warriors. It will convince the grounders to rally to our cause. We’ll get more volunteers, which means more defenders to fight our war. Need I go on?" The commander laid her palms on the table and leaned in to the recruits. After all we have done for you, this is but a small thing to give us in return. All I ask is that you disappear underground for a while.”

“No,” Andessa protested. “The buried are insane. They hide underground worshipping false gods. You can’t ask us to spend even a moment with them. Not even for a morale-boosting mission.”

“This is absolutely ridiculous.” Torsten challenged the commander. “I won’t go out there and pretend we’re looking for some mystical artifact that will save us from the dragzhi. How does that help anyone?”

“Would you rather I go on the bullet and tell everyone we’re going to die? That the dragzhi are coming for us? That there is no more hope?” Commander Bartok crossed her arms over her chest. “I would rather give them something to inspire them. You will march out there where everyone can see. You will do as you’re told.”

Torsten grabbed Leila's hand. "Come on, we're leaving. I won’t listen to this for a moment longer."

“Torsten, please.” Commander Bartok’s voice was suddenly quiet. She ran her fingers through her spiky blond hair. “What if I told you there is new evidence that the Key is real? What if it could help us defeat the dragzhi? Would it hurt you to go underground and look for it?”

“It would.” Torsten looked at Mellok. “He’s a brilliant engineer. Why doesn’t he stay and create something to help us? Leila’s a capable fighter. As much as I don’t want her on the front lines, I know she is better utilized in the tower. As for Andessa…” Torsten trailed off. He didn’t know the woman well enough to say why she was more useful here than on a fool’s errand. “I’m sure she doesn’t want to leave the tower.”

“Wow, thanks Torsten.” Andessa rolled her eyes.

“The buried are hostile,” Commander Bartok said. “Entering their domain might anger them. That’s why I’m sending Mellok, Leila, and Andessa with you. They are there to protect you, Torsten. Do you understand now?”

Torsten looked to the others. They stood at attention, ready to fulfill their commander’s orders, no matter how ridiculous they were.

“Your packs are in the corner. Take them. Search for the Key, even if you don’t believe in it,” Commander Bartok said.

“And how are we supposed to get underground?” Torsten asked. “We don’t know of any entrances.”

“Head for the old, abandoned church. You must trust me. Now, please, take your supplies and go. Time is running out. The dragzhi are coming for us.” Commander Bartok nodded once, then left the room, Matthe on her heels.

"We have no choice but to leave." Andessa grabbed her pack. She rummaged through it. "There's enough supplies here for a few days at the most. We need to get moving, find shelter and food.”

Leila found her pack and tossed Torsten's to him. He caught it, slipping the straps over his back. "I guess we leave, then?”

“Torsten, if Commander Bartok believes the Key exists, then with your knowledge, we’ll find it. I know we will.” Leila smiled, then an arm around Mellok’s waist.

They filed out of the room, Torsten bringing up the rear. They filled the lift, pushing the button to take them to the bottom level of the tower. In moments, they'd be among the grounders, a place Torsten didn't think he'd ever see again after his parents died.

"What do you think?" Renata grabbed Rell's shoulders and guided her to a mirror.

The girl staring back at Rell was a stranger. Not just because Renata had changed her appearance, but because Rell had never seen her reflection before. Nor had she ever worn clothing accentuating every curve. Rell was embarrassed. Horrified, even.

A tentative hand reached up for her hair. Her long braid had once been dirty brown. Shorn to her chin in blunt chunks, her hair now resembled the mop she'd toiled with only a few days ago, cleaning the floor of every last speck of dirt. Except instead of dingy white, her hair was shocking magenta.

Rell turned away in disgust. She resembled everything she'd been taught to despise.

Conspicuous. Brazen. Feminine.

"I can't go out there like this."

Renata tossed a scarf over the mirror. "This is a common reaction. Don't worry. You'll get over it soon enough. Once you see what the world is really like, you'll realize how you look now is completely normal. No one will look at you twice. If you walked out this door dressed as you were when you arrived at my hole in the wall…"

Rell could see only the reflection of her hip now. Sheathed in polished black leather, her hips took on new definition as she jutted to one side. "This is what normal people look like?"

Renata laughed. "Have you looked at me?"

Rell studied the woman before her. Ears pierced eight times in each lobe. Cobalt hair pulled into countless braids. Clothing so tight, Rell had to wonder how Renata could breathe. If this was how women dressed, then Rell resigned herself to it. To complete the quest she'd been given, she needed to blend in. She had to convince the grounders she belonged.

"Are you considered beautiful?" Rell asked.

A blush crept over Renata's cheeks. "Some have said so. I know attraction isn't something we spoke of underground, but here, it matters more than you can imagine. Here, we choose lovers. Partners. Life mates. Attraction is a big part of it."

"Where is your life mate?" Rell looked around the cottage for the first time. There was only one bed. One pair of shoes by the door. A small wardrobe on the opposite side of the room.

"I don't have one. Yet." Renata wrung her hands. It was clear she was growing uncomfortable with Rell's questioning. "There is one man I've been seeing..."

"It's okay. I don't need to know more. I'm sorry. All of this is so foreign." Rell reached for a curved red object sitting on a table. "Like this. I don't even know what this is."

Renata relaxed. "It's an apple. You eat it. I know it’s very different than the tubers and bread you’re used to underground. You’ll like it. Try it."

Rell brought the apple to her mouth, surprised by the tangy scent coming from the grounder's fruit. Sinking her teeth into the hard skin, she was startled by a squirt of sticky juice, and even more astonished by how much she liked the sweet taste. "This is good." Rell chewed through a smile.

Renata laughed again. "Watching you reminds me so much of myself. Sometimes, when others are brought through the tunnels, they are ready to leave and experience the new world. You seem hesitant, just as I was once was, but willing to give this world a try. I think you'll succeed."

Rell chewed while formulating a response. She didn't want to succeed aboveground. All she wanted was to complete her mission and go home. The world outside Renata's door held nothing for her. Everything she needed was hiding under her feet. She only had to prove her worthiness to the Menelewen Dored.

Renata waved a hand over the wall, and a screen sprang to life.

Rell jumped backward, and the apple dropped to the floor. "What is that? There are moving people on your wall?" She reached a tentative hand toward the strange, floating people.

"This is a vidscreen. It shows moving pictures of people like us. They've been recorded and displayed. Sometimes it's for entertainment. This is the bullet—where the broadcasters tell us what's happening in other parts of Hadar. Often, it focuses on the war. We also get the weather. The military possesses the vast majority of the tech on Phoenix. They give us enough to keep informed. The rest, we craft ourselves." Renata paused and cocked her head. "You don't know what any of that is. I'm sorry."

Since Renata had given her an opening, Rell let the questions flow. "I know something about the war. But what should I know about Hadar? And what is weather?"

Renata sighed, lowering herself onto a wooden chair. "I'll start with the easy part. Weather. It's what's happening in the air. Sometimes, water falls from the sky to the earth. Or the sun will shine so bright you have to wear a veil over your eyes to keep from going blind. It can be so hot you want to strip off your clothes and run naked, or so cold you want to wear every piece of clothing you own."

Rell's nose wrinkled. She preferred the robe she'd worn until only moments ago. It lay crumpled on the floor, a wrinkled mess. "It sounds horrible."

"It's not. I promise. You'll get used to it quickly, and then wonder how you ever lived underground." Renata crossed one leg over the other, clasping her fingers around a knee. She leaned forward. "There are many experiences you'll have here that will make you question everything you learned growing up. You'll come to see perhaps the Menelewen Dored are an antiquated notion. Eventually you will break ties with your past. Just as I have."

"And yet, you remain here, working for them." Rell gestured toward the wall, wishing the passageway was obvious.

Renata shook her head, her eyes narrowed. "No. I don't serve the Menelewen Dored by caring for those it spews from its depths. I remain here to serve those who were rejected, like me. I care nothing for the council or its religion. I care for those who have been taught to worship with blind faith. I help them realize this world is far better than the one they came from."

Rell held her tongue. Arguing with Renata would get her nowhere. Besides, the woman had been very kind. She had no obligation to help those who emerged from underground. Without her, Rell would be completely lost.

Still, Renata couldn't be more wrong. She clearly did remain in the service of the Menelewen Dored, whether by choice or by divine intervention. She was helping their cause by teaching Rell. For that, Rell held the woman in high regard.

"Thank you." The simple statement conveyed more than mere gratitude. It was a blessing for Renata's continued service. The Menelewen Dored worked in mysterious ways.

But Renata had turned her back on Rell, her eyes riveted on the vidscreen.

Today, four defenders left the tower, sent a on a mission to find, and return with, the legendary Key.

Two young men and two young women, wearing silver formfitting suits and carrying weapons on their hips, strode from a tower that disappeared into the sky. Rell stepped closer the vidscreen, her eyes squinted.

The vidscreen zoomed in on the tallest. His brown hair swept back from his pointed, clenched jaw. His lanky stride lacked the swagger of the tall blond man next to him. Though he appeared to be the leader, it wasn't a mantle he wore lightly. Two girls followed behind. One was thin with blond hair. The other girl was short and stocky, with a quizzical look on her face. Her hand rested on her weapon, as if she might need to use it at any moment.

It is through their bravery we will prevail in the war against the dragzhi. For who can stand against the Key?

Rell closed her eyes, committing their faces to memory. These were the people she needed to stop. The council had known of their mission a day ago, through the guidance of the Menelewen Dored. Rell’s gods knew all. Pride swelled in her chest. She was chosen for this mission above all other acolytes, and Rell knew without a doubt she would succeed.

Renata waved her hand over the wall, shaking her head. "The Key. What a joke. Even when I lived underground, we all knew the Key was nothing more than a myth. I can't believe they're dragging out that old lie again. No one on the ground believes it anymore. Those idiots in the tower think we do. They are so disconnected from what really happens here." Renata sprang out of her chair, grabbing Rell in a surprise hug. "I'm so sorry. This must all be so upsetting to you!"

Rell patted Renata's back. No one had hugged her since she was a little girl. On the day she turned seven, her mother said it was time to become an adult. No more toys. No more playmates. No more hugs. Rell would cry herself to sleep at night, her arms wrapped around herself, pretending she was enveloped in her mother's arms.

By the time she turned ten, she'd left behind those silly feelings. The desire for hugs showed weakness, and there was no room for that underground in the service of the Menelewen Dored.

Renata pulled back, her eyes sad. "You don't believe me, do you? You still think they're coming for you? That they will change their minds and take you back?"

Rell's arms dropped to her sides. Of course she believed it. Though the council hadn't specifically promised they'd come for her, Rell knew into the deep recesses of her soul they would accept her back into the fold as soon as she accomplished the mission they'd bestowed upon her.

"I'll come around," Rell said, forcing a pathetic smile. Though Rell would have preferred a life of servitude, she tempered her anxiety. The acolytes were always taught the Menelewen Dored knew them better than they knew themselves. If she truly believed in their sovereignty, then perhaps Rell needed to give herself the benefit of the doubt.

Renata gazed into Rell's eyes. Seemingly satisfied with what she saw, she patted Rell's shoulder. “Sometimes it takes longer than others, but you will. We all have. What you need to do now is go out and find a job. A place to live. There are plenty who will offer you both."

Rell's eyes traveled to the door across the room. The world on the other side was one of myth to her. It was a world she never thought she'd see, and one she’d never desired to experience. But entering it was the only way she'd find her way home.

"What type of a job should I ask for?" Rell's stomach fluttered. She had basic skills, but the thought of interacting with grounders made her ill.

"You should do something simple to start." Renata grabbed Rell's hands and turned them over. Small callouses from years of menial labor dotted Rell's palms. The healing salve only did so much, leaving her hands rough. "I suggest a job cleaning at the nearby inn. If you stay silent about your past, you can observe others while going about your work. You can learn about the grounders' world. When you're ready to strike out on your own, you will have the chance to do anything you like. You can go to school and become a teacher. You might find a nice man to marry. You could have children."

Rell's stomach turned at the thought. Underground, they were not man or woman. They were only servants for the Menelewen Dored. Any unapproved dalliance with another acolyte, of either sex, was punishable by banishment or death. They were equals in all things. Rell had no interest in sexual relations with men or women.

Renata placed her hands on her hips. "Those feelings go away quickly, Rell. We're all a bit frightened of sex when we emerge from underground. Trust me, whether your pleasure lies in men or women, you will learn to enjoy it. And you will crave it."

What Renata suggested was absurd. Maybe Renata was part of a test set up by the Menelewen Dored. A simple reminder to follow the tenets she held dear.

"There isn't much more I can do for you without drawing attention to myself." Renata placed her hands on Rell's shoulders, propelling her toward the door. "There is an inn three buildings down. It is called The Leaping Dog. Tell the lead barkeep, Tatsuru, I sent you. Ask him for a job. He'll help you."

Rell swallowed a lump in her throat. She was eager to get started, desperate to complete her mission, and anxious to return home. To do so, she had to face the outside world—a wild place she'd feared growing up.

"Thank you," she said to Renata as her shaking hand reached for the doorknob.