by Edward Lake
Declan peeked at me with a grin. “You better return home, Zena, someday. I need to get some payback for this.”
Seeing him lighten up made me beam from ear to ear. I went over and knelt beside him. I grabbed his hand and squeezed hard. “I will come back. Somehow, someway, I will return.” Truthfully, I wasn’t sure I would make it to the ship on the prison yard. But Declan needed hope, and I wanted him to believe in me.
We shared an everlasting embrace, a warm hug that lifted my spirits even higher and got me refocused on the task at hand.
When we separated, Declan crawled to the opposite corner and woke Grandma and our young siblings. I hurried to the ground and shared a tight hug with them. Dear God, please keep them safe.
“Goodbye, Declan,” Lydia whispered to me.
It was hard, but I managed to keep my emotions in check and kissed her head. “Goodbye, Lydia. I love you.”
“Goodbye… Declan,” Turk mumbled with his head down.
I stole a kiss on his cheek. “I shall return. I promise you, this is not the end of us, together, as a family.”
Little Turk lifted his head and glared at me. In his eyes, I saw so much pain and doubt. He walked backward until he hit the wall. He slid down to the floor and looked past me with an empty stare.
Turk? There was no time for me to console him. No time to try and make him understand. “I love you, Turk. Goodbye, little brother.”
Grandma Petra looked me in the eyes and gave me an encouraging smile. “Good luck, Declan.” Her eyes watered, and her face reddened. “I love you, dear, and I’ll miss you.”
I bent forward and kissed her cheek. “Thank you, Grandma. I love you, too.”
The echo of marching boots approached our cell. I hopped to my feet and faced the door. Declan scooted back to the corner on the other side of the cell and put his head down. Grandma and Lydia went over to the wall and sat next to Turk.
“Ezra, Zena!” the soldier shouted, then let out a big yawn.
“Zena Ezra, twenty years of age,” Declan said from behind me.
“Ezra, Petra!” he called out to Grandma. Once she answered, he went on to the kids, and they answered, too. At last, it was on to me. “Ezra, Declan!”
“Declan Ezra, twenty-six years of age.”
The soldier opened the cell and locked me down with restraints. “Move forward, slave!”
I put my head down and hurried out of the cell.
“Stop there, Ezra!” The soldier grabbed my baggy shirt and pulled me closer. “Put your head up.”
Oh no! I looked up with squinted eyes.
The soldier checked me from head to toe. He glanced at the cell, then looked back at me, laughing. “You look slimmer without the beard.” He set his hand on my back and shoved me into the crowd of marching draftees.
The infinite line of recruits slowly made its way to the elevators and up to the prison yard. I turned my head and caught Declan, Grandma, and the little ones staring at me. Walking farther and farther away from them was the hardest thing I ever did. I spun my head forward and looked down again. I closed my eyes and breathed out a long sigh. Keep it together, Zena. They need you to be strong.
I squeezed my eyes hard until they hurt. When I opened them, there were no tears, and the pain I felt was exactly what I needed. After that, I didn’t look back. For now, Grandma and my siblings were gone, but I’d never forget them. My mission to save Declan was all that mattered.
I looked around to check the nearby cells. Kyra? Where are you? In my head, I said a prayer for her and her mother, Olga. She was a dear friend, and I yearned to say farewell to her. Wherever you are, I love you. Goodbye, Kyra.
The slow drag through the long hallway gave me plenty of time to reflect. One way or another, I figured my hike to the elevators would be my last time inside the prison. Even so, I was not a free woman. Maybe I never would be. I couldn’t imagine ever being truly free. Prison slave or slave soldier—it was all the same to me.
Thereafter, I made it to the yard and eagerly checked the sky. Thousands of ships flew over us, cruising by like a flock of angry birds. Most of the rubble from the attack had been cleared off the yard to make room for all the ships parked along the perimeter. The soldiers patrolling the yard loaded the other draftees into the ships until there was no more room. Once a ship was full, they ordered the pilot to take off, and another ship quickly flew down to take its place.
Finally, after a long while, I made it to a ship. The soldiers pushed and shoved me up the ramp. There were at least two hundred other recruits on the ship, packed from wall to wall. Most of their faces were filled with excitement and vigor, and there was a decent amount of chatter in the air.
I found a spot on the floor near the opening of the ramp. I squeezed myself into the tiny space and sat down with a few others. I kept my head down to hide my face from my peers. So far, it seemed as if the “manly behavior” I had practiced with Declan was working.
Still, the whole thing seemed out of place. Why would the Holy Army do this? All around me, it felt like something more was going on. The soldiers had looks on their faces that I had never seen before. The smugness they normally showed was replaced by an alertness that made them look vulnerable. I couldn’t wait to get to the recruitment camp and learn more about the situation.
The pilot flew us to the other side of the North Star. I had never been, but from what I had heard through gossip over the years, this region of the planet was known as “the desert of the North Star.” We landed on the dreary terrain in haste. The ramp opened and the soldiers on the outside ordered us to march forward.
When I got to the dry soil, I trekked into the long line of recruits as the soldiers began to assemble us in rows. Up above, a collection of battleships whooshed past us and landed directly behind a very large battle station that resembled a mountaintop.
“Forward, march! Forward, march! Gather in straight lines near our ships,” a group of soldiers barked to us over the amplifiers that hovered in the sky.
Suddenly, horns from all the ships blared over the camp, and the soldiers patrolling the area straightened up and stood at attention. Then a swanky space glider came down from the sky. Two men stood on its spacious, circular platform. The glider landed a few feet away from me, and the two men leaped off and stomped toward us.
If their presence sparked this kind of attention from the soldiers, it was clear to see that these two men were our commanding officers. The first one was rather handsome. A bit taller than average and with broad shoulders and daring eyes, he sported a neat hairstyle that fit perfectly with his facade.
His comrade, however, left much to be desired. He was taller, brawny, with a face that looked more basic than a rock. In fact, if looks could kill, one glare from him would be all it took.
“Slaves of the North Star!” the handsome one shouted. There was a microphone attached to his collar, which appeared to be linked to the speakers hovering around in the air. His voice crisply echoed across the desolate land as he continued. “My name is Captain Evander Cain.” He gestured to his partner. “This is Captain Otto Slate. We have journeyed to the North Star to train and develop an army of slave soldiers. All of you have been selected to participate in this process.”
Several soldiers marched through the rows, looking us up and down.
I kept my eyes straight, doing my best to look past Evander and not at him. Yet in the corner of my vision, I saw him move closer and closer as he monitored his patrolling soldiers—and us.
Finally, he stopped in front of me and glared into my eyes. “Some of you will not complete the training. As a result, you will be sent back to where you came from.” He moved along and continued. “For those of you who successfully complete the training, you will be given an opportunity of a lifetime: a chance to become a soldier of the Holy Army!” He ambled ahead, scanning each row of recruits. “Our nation is at war! The rebel army has aligned itself with the Serpents. If you complete this training and become a soldier
of the Saros Empire, you will join us in the fight to rid the galaxy of all rebels and Serpents.”
At last! Learning that the rebel army was real sparked a tense sensation all over my body. I wondered if the rebels hated Pastor Saros and the Holy Empire as much as I did. Joining it might be my chance to get some revenge against these tyrants! But what is a Serpent? Maybe they’re the ones who have the soldiers so shaken?
Evander waited a moment until his booming voice faded away. “Now, we shall begin.” He gave his soldiers a hand signal. He then spun around and gave Captain Slate another signal.
The brawny combatant stepped forward. “The most important quality of a soldier is his mentality. If you don’t have the willpower for the job, you will find yourself dead rather quickly—or permanently marred for the rest of your life.” He let out a soft chuckle. “We are not looking for feeble, bruised bodies to fill our front lines! We are in search of slaves in good physical condition and with the mentality to strive for greatness! Men with the wills of giants and who possess the courage to do all that is necessary to achieve victory!” Captain Slate walked past me, flashing a wicked sneer. “So we shall test your wills. Captain Cain?”
Evander gave him a nod and lifted his arm, revealing a device wrapped around his wrist and covered with multiple buttons. He pressed one of the buttons and a swarm of tiny ships flew out of the colossal battle station that resembled a mountain. At first, I assumed they were just well-designed holograms made to look real to the eye.
“Fire!” Evander hollered.
Suddenly, forceful, thrusting blasts shot out from the ships, creating a heavy wave that pushed us down and around like rocks on an avalanche. I crashed into a group of fellow draftees and bumped heads with them. Tangled in a big cluster, we toppled to the ground and screeched with one voice.
“If you can’t survive this, you won’t last one day as a soldier of the Holy Army. Pick yourselves up. When this is over, those of you who rise to your feet will be given a chance to complete the training,” Evander said.
We scrambled and ducked as more and more blasts came down on us. Several recruits were sent flying a few feet in the air. My head was pounding from the first blast, but there was no time to worry about aches and pains. I thought of Declan and Grandma and little Lydia and that sad face little Turk gave me before I left.
With all my strength, I wobbled to my feet and made a path for myself through the chaos. Faster and faster, more blasts came down on us from the mock ships. By now, there were several draftees on the ground, crawling with obvious injuries. The madness lasted for a long while and left the entire field of recruits in complete ruin.
Then, finally, it all stopped. Evander sent the mock ships back to the battle station.
Captain Slate zigzagged his way through the crowd of fallen draftees. “Get up! Rise to your feet, men. Up, up, up. I don’t have all day,” he shouted. Cruel, teasing laughter sparked in his voice as he went on. “You think this was hard? Believe me, you haven’t experienced a fraction of the torture we have planned for you.”
Trembling from the pain, I slowly rose to my feet and stood at attention, ready for whatever else they could throw at me.
Evander marched past me, scanning the crowd of recruits. “Very impressive. Perhaps you slaves are more resilient than I thought.”
Yet sadly, the few slaves still on the ground, crawling to their knees, were quickly dragged to a ship and flown away.
Evander stepped forward and gave us our final order for the day. “You’ve passed the first test, slaves. Now, across this field, past our ships, you’ll find food, water, and shelter. Eat, drink, and rest in your tents. At dawn, the real training begins.”
I was in terrible pain, yet a faint smile bloomed across my face. I had proven to myself that I was tougher than a few men. Outlasting a handful of my peers made me believe I could save my brother from the corrupt Holy Army.
12
Zena
The tent I slept in reminded me of the prison cell I had lived in for so long—dark, grimy, and cold. But this was much worse. I felt alone, cramped up in a small space with a bunch of smelly, snoring men. I wondered how Declan was doing back home, pretending to be me. I hoped the war lasted a long time. I remembered the soldier who brought me back to my cell after the attack. He informed us that we would be kept in our cage until the war was over. More fighting meant more time for Declan to heal his bad shoulder and adjust to his new life disguised as me.
Truthfully, the realization of the war had not sunk in with me. I tried to imagine the flare of the battlefield, but for so long, it was just a dream. The excitement, the explosions, the danger. All of it was make-believe and hype. But now it was real.
I did not get much sleep that night. Booming, echoing horns from the ships woke me. The sun had just crept over the horizon. Evander and his comrade, Captain Slate, began shouting orders from outside the tent.
“Wake up and get in line, slaves,” Evander snapped, his voice blaring from the floating speakers in the sky.
Captain Slate added, “Our fun has just started! Your pain and suffering are our amusement! So hurry up and exit your tents!”
I staggered to my feet and jogged outside. I stood at attention and took a few deep breaths. From across the way, swarms of slaves hurried out of their tents and lined up. The area filled up in an instant, and finally, the horns stopped.
“Do you know what war is?” Evander asked. “War is a conflict between two societies. A series of battles that will leave many dead.” He marched forward into the sea of recruits. “The Holy Empire is at war! So are you ready to die, slaves? Will you lay down your life for our one true leader, the Almighty God who watches over us and answers our prayers?”
Racing down each row and staring into our faces, he sounded like a jubilant preacher. Yet in the back of my mind, I couldn’t solve this mysterious operation to add slave soldiers to the Holy Army. It reeked of desperation and vulnerability. But what—or who—could make the High Priest and his army feel this way? Perhaps the rebels and the Serpents had done something far worse than attack the prison.
“God’s will and our devotion to the Holy Spirit will lead us to victory! I want you to shout your praise to God! Let the all-powerful spirit know that you are here to serve and sacrifice your life for the greater good!”
One by one, each of us looked up to the sky and voiced our own individual praises to God. To end my praise, I asked the Holy Spirit to watch over my family and friends. In my head, I envisioned their faces as clear as daylight. I saw their smiles and their cries. I remembered all the good times we had—and the bad.
“Today we will test your physical endurance,” Evander said. He and Captain Slate quickly split us up into groups. “Each group will take turns marching across the camp and back, with Captain Slate and I leading the pack.” He turned his back to us and pointed ahead. “Remember to pace yourselves. This is a grueling track, not a quick sprint.”
I was in the seventh group, waiting in the far back like that kid on the prison yard whom no one wanted to play with. Finally, after an hour or so, Evander and Captain Slate returned with group six and took a short break.
When it was time to march again, Evander called out, “Group seven, forward march!” He and Captain Slate went ahead, and we from group seven closed in behind.
We stampeded through the tepid, barren wasteland, then turned and tracked back to the camp once we reached the perimeter. I was amazed to see Evander and Captain Slate doing so well on their seventh march. Both men were in incredible physical condition.
Most of my fellow slaves were slowing down. I kept pushing ahead with everything I had, and when we returned to the camp, I found myself at the front of the pack.
Evander stopped and jogged in place for a few seconds. He then turned around and faced me. I glanced at him, and my eyes grew wide when I realized how close I was to the captain. He seemed surprised to see me ahead of the group.
Evander hustled over to me
and placed his hands on his hips. “Stand at attention, slave.”
Oh God, perhaps I should have slowed down like the others. I stood as still as I could, staring past him with my arms firmly placed at my sides.
Evander looked me up and down. “I like recruits who are not afraid to upstage their colleagues.” He showed me a big smile. “What is your name?”
I focused hard on my voice and made sure it sounded manly. “Declan Ezra, sir.”
He nodded. “I like your attitude, Declan.” He tapped me on the shoulder and moved on with Captain Slate.
I jogged in place for a moment and felt a small grin bloom across my face. It appeared as if my makeover was working—so far.
The soldiers patrolling the camp ordered us to spread out and prepare ourselves for our next march. They sent around barrels of water and had us drink a few gulps to stay hydrated.
“Nice speed, Declan,” a voice from behind said.
I turned around and spotted a skinny dark-skinned man. “Thanks. Who are you?”
“My name is Taft Caras. I’m a slave fighter from District Four.” He had a real young-looking face—almost childlike.
“Nice to meet you, Taft.”
Two other men who appeared to know Taft came over and stood next to him. He turned to his left and said, “This is Bon Delis.” Then he spun to his right. “And this is Atom Toto.”
Bon, an older man with a groggy voice, sported a very thick beard. His dark blue eyes sagged into his face like a wrinkled shirt. He stared at me with a toothless smile and gave me a quick nod. “Smart move for you to pass us up like that. I overheard Captain Cain praising you.”
Atom Toto cut in and said, “If Captain Cain was impressed with that little run, let me tell you, he has not seen anything. Surely you wouldn’t mind a little competition, Declan?”
His enthusiasm made us all laugh. It was nice to see someone having a little fun with our training.
I flashed a fiery grin. “Okay, Atom. I accept your challenge.”
