Attack on Phoenix Read Free Page B

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