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.
Chapter Three
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.
Chapter Four
The next morning, Rell followed someone in a dark hood down the dark hallway. The lighters, who illuminated the halls with candles every morning to give those underground some sense of a daily cycle, had yet to complete their task.
Rell's eyes had stayed open the majority of the night. Her racing mind wouldn't allow her to rest. Not when she had so much to ponder, so much to pray over.
All night long, whispered prayers poured from her parted lips. She had prayed over her unworthiness, asking the gods to make her pure for the task that lay ahead. Yet, she also focused on her faith in the choices the Menelewen Dored made. They would not choose her without being assured of her success. After all, the Key had remained safely hidden for hundreds of years. None had breached their inner sanctum.
Still, her stomach fluttered. Why her? Rell had only the most basic training. She knew how to fight and protect herself. She knew how to worship. But, Rell knew she was only an ordinary acolyte. It was then her mind would step in, and remind Rell this was what she had always wanted. To be one with the gods. To be favored by them. Perhaps, even, to be loved the way she loved them.
The guide stopped in the middle of a hall Rell knew well. She traversed it every day on her way to the kitchen. Her guide reached into the wall, turning a hidden crank. Rell knew how the buried hid their mechanized door locks underground, but she hadn’t been aware of this one. There was a faint creaking noise. The wall began to move inward.
The guide passed through the opening in the wall. Rell followed. A faint whiff of moisture tickled her nose. The guide lit a small torch, illuminating the mysterious tunnel. This new tunnel was carved out of the earth, veined with roots and organisms she couldn't identify. A chill crawled down her back as Rell observed the skittering bugs. They made the dirt itself appear alive, as patterns changed in the flickering light from the torch.
The door closed behind them. Rell steeled her hands in fists, and followed the guide once more. If she couldn't handle this mission, then how could she protect the Key? She needed to be strong, no matter how confused or weak she felt.
Her white slippers squished into the ground. Muck rose over the wool, coating the tops of her feet in a layer of mud. Rell’s fingers itched for clean water and a wool towel to scratch away the impurities. Surely once they arrived at their destination, she would be allowed to cleanse herself.
The hooded guide stopped before a crudely cut stairway. The ground sloped upward, and wooden planks were spaced evenly to form risers. "Ascend, Rell."
She looked into the dark hood, puzzled, but her guide's face was hidden. "Am I to go alone?"
The figure nodded, pointing up.
Rell bowed. "Thank you for bringing me here. I pledge to fulfill all of the tasks awaiting me. With the blessings of the gods, I will serve to the best of my ability."
Rell lifted one slippered foot out of the muck and onto the first riser. The light from the torch flickered on the steps. She placed one foot after the other until the torchlight was no more than a whisper at the bottom of the stairs. The rough staircase ended in another wall of dirt.
"What am I to do now?" Rell called to her guide.
The guide doused the torchlight. Rell's skin tingled. Were
insects crawling on her, or was it fear? She rubbed her hands over her arms. There were no bugs, but goose bumps rose under her fingertips.
"Hello?" There was no answer in the darkness. Before she could decide whether to attempt descending the stairs, the wall in front of her opened. A bright light shone into the tunnel.
Rell threw her arm over her eyes and squinted. Someone grabbed her wrist and pulled her onto solid ground. The musty scent of dirt was exchanged for one of overpowering citrus. Rell's arm dropped, and she blinked, getting used to the brilliant lights in the room.
"Hello." A woman with short, blue hair smiled at Rell. Her ears were pierced eight times, starting at the lobe and ending at the rounded tip. "It's nice to meet you. Are you ready?"
Rell blinked a few times and looked around the room. It was unlike any she'd ever seen. The walls were bright silver. She ran her fingertips along one. It was smooth and cold, so unlike the rough-hewn walls of her home. "Where am I?"
The woman's face fell and her lips puckered. "They didn't tell you, did they?" She rolled her eyes. "They never do. I don't know why I expected them to start today. Come here, sweetie, and sit down."
Rell followed the woman to a chair covered with a fluffy pillow. Rell sat, uncomfortable. She was used to chairs carved from wood or stone. The softness felt strange under her rump. It was almost... pleasant. Rell jumped out of the chair. "I'd rather stand."
She had come here to serve the gods. Not to sit in luxury.
The woman smiled, but her aquamarine eyes were lined with pity. "You've been brought here because it's time for you to leave the underground. I'm going to help you acclimate to your new home." She rested a hand on Rell's shoulder and squeezed.
Rell stumbled backward. "No. That's not why I'm here." She ran back to the place she’d entered the room, moving her hand over the wall, looking for the mechanism. She whirled around. "Where do you open it?"
Galactic - Ten Book Space Opera Sci-Fi Boxset Page 27
