Writing Prompt

I stand in my knight armor, its silver metal gleaming against the moon’s light. My sword weighs down my side; my nerves shake.

“Tomorrow, knights,” King Tiberius shouts. “You will fight against our enemies and restore our kingdom to its former glory!” Some knights cheer, many stay silent in fear. “We have chosen you from you homes, men and women both, to fight for our kingdom!” King Tiberius raises his chalice, filled with wine. His lavish jewels and furs stain red from his spilling wine. It looks so similar to blood. I shake my head, washing the vision from my head. Tomorrow I may very well die; be covered in blood rather than wine. How very lucky the king is to be drunk on a night that may be the last for some of his people. It sickens me.

“Tara, are you alright? You look pale,” Zane asks, worry swirling in his eyes. I nod, my stomach twisting in knots. I’ll have to be alright, if I want to live.

The next morning, we were all woken before dawn. The cold air nips my cheeks. I’ve been assigned a legion, the smallest one. Two women and three men. Zane is with me, thankfully. “Your legion will not be assigned a captain. We fall short one. You’ll have to be on your own. Remember” the general recites, “blood will be spilled but ours will be filled.” I nod as the general steps away. A laugh bubbles to a smile at my lips. What ridiculous advice the general gave!

Dawn comes upon us, the sun peaking from the horizon. A distant sound rings; the enemy is just yonder. “The general said we are to stick to the right, to cover the open spots,” a red-curly haired slim man says to the legion. He introduces himself as Kenny. “How will only five people cover all the holes?” A brunette girl, with a large snake tatted on her neck questions. “Orders are order,” Zane answers sternly. “And we have no say in our survival?” The girl bits back. “Bree, hold your tongue!” A large, muscular man, with red armor scolds. He mentioned his name was Stephen. He was a part of the King’s guard before the war. I stay silent. “Our best shot to both survival and honor is to listen to the general,” Stephen says, his voice harsh and cold. Small wrinkles spot under his eyes. It’s clear he has experience.

“Knight! To your positions!” The general shouts. Clanks and clinks of armor sound as knights and legions move to their positions. Mine walks to the far right, near the forest. We’re hidden and small. I pray that’ll be enough to live.

A horn sounds and we begin to bang our shields with our swords. Some scream battle cries, others cry in pure fear. I mask my face, covering my fear. In the distance, the midnight blue armor of the enemy glitters in the morning light. “I should be home right now, eating breakfast with my family,” Bree whispered. Zane stands tall, glancing over to see if I’m well. Stephen focuses, examining the enemy. Kenny shakes, sweat rolling down his freckled cheeks. A prayer escapes my lips as swords strike and knights groan in fighting. The battle has begun.

“Bree and Tara, stay right!” Stephen commands. “Kenny and Zane, block the left!” Stephen was trying to protect us, limiting bloodshed. Enemies push through, blue armor infiltrating the red and silver armor of the knights. Blood splatters everywhere. I run, following Stephen. Bree runs beside me. Zane and Kenny run ahead a few steps.

“My mother used to tell me I’d never see the worst of mankind,” Bree says, breathing heavily. “She lied.” A man in blue armor floods my vision. His sword stands above Bree. Without thinking another thought, I block his deadly blow. I jab and block the enemy. I was in a dance of survival. But suddenly the man stopped at the sight of my eyes. He stopped in his tracks, his face almost paling at the sight of my face. “You’re, you’re T-T” the man stuttered. “Tara.” My brows furrowed in confusion, but Zane dragged me away, forcing me to run further into battle. Bree thanked me, but I couldn’t stop thinking of the strange man.

“Kenny, head down!” Stephen shouts. Kenny shakes and cries in fear. “I want to go home!” He shouts. “I don’t want to be here!” Stephen drags our legion to a small hidden spot, rage flashing on his bloodied face. “Look, I didn’t ask to be picked. None of us did,” he says, pointing to us all. “We have no choice but to fight. Show your honor, Kenny. Be a knight and fight for our kingdom!” We get back to the field, Kenny flushed in embarrassment. Another horn sounds. The arrows horn. “Shields!” Zane shouts. We bend down, covering our bodies with our shields. Arrows wiz around and above us. Knights scream in pain as arrows hit them. I feel a few hit the top of my shield. A hand grabs my arm, dragging me towards the edge of the battlefield. “Zane!” I say, shakened and confused. I can’t see who is pulling me away from the bloodshed, too scared to release my shield from my head. But I stumble and fall. My shield escapes my hands. I look up. I’m in the forest, away from anyone. Away from my legion. A man, tall and strong, with night black hair and midnight blue armor stands above me. He smiles. “I’ve been looking for you, Tara,” the man says, his voice deep and gentle. “Please,” I gasp. “I-I don’t know, I’m just a—“ “You’ve been with the enemy,” the man says. “Fighting for King Tiberius? For that fool? Oh you’re way better than that, Tara.” Confusion covers my face. “I don’t understand?” I say, clutching my sword. The man laughs. “King Tiberius is more of a coward than I thought, putting his part of the bargain on the battlefield.” “What?” “Tara Steinbroke, you are to be my bride. You are to marry me, the Prince of Winterfred,” the man smiles. I pale. I am to marry the enemy’s Prince! “No, no no no,” I stutter. The prince puts his hands behind his back, pacing. “He never told you, then.” I shake my head. “My father, the King of Winterfred, accepted King Tiberius’ bargain to end the war. King Tiberius would gift me a bride with blood descended from the magical past. My father accepted, yet your king still started another battle, putting my bride on the field, to die.” “Tiberius doesn’t want the war to end?” I breathe. “It seems so, but he made a bargain, and I am here to claim it, Tara.” The Prince helps me from the forest ground. My knees shake. “I-I can’t,” I say, looking towards the battlefield. “A bargain is a bargain,” the Prince says. Then smoke of midnight blue covers my eyesight and next thing I know, I am in a throne room.

Look, I didn't ask to be picked. None of us did.

But when Yuri, Daughter of Zeus, and one of the most gruff, bold, and tough girls on camp picks you to be on her Capture the Flag team, it's hard to say no.

So, here I am; running for my dear life as flaming arrows shoot past my head.

I clutched the blue flag tightly in my hand, my chest heaving as I run. My legs felt like they were about to fall off.

I had to win this for Red Team. I had to make Yuri proud. And, most importantly, I had to prove to the other campers that the Apollo Cabin isn't just a bunch of singing hippies who like arts and crafts.

I heard the screams of Blue Team coming from behind me as I dodged a flaming arrow. I was almost there, I almost made it...

Then stupid Erin jumped in my way...

You see, Erin is this really cute boy from the Athena cabin. He has fluffy blonde hair and gray eyes just like his siblings (and my personal hero, Annabeth).

"You're surrounded, Lola!" Erin laughed, causing me to stop in my tracks. Out of no where, dozens of Blue Team members appeared, ready to attack. They had their swords and arrows pointed at me, and I felt hopeless.

I glanced around, nothing but pine trees and the small stream I was standing in that was ruining my new shoes, the mud and murk staining the white fabric of the shoes.

I gripped the flag tighter, and out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Timber, a Daughter of Poseidon, and a kid on my team, kneeling down in the stream. Our eyes met, and I realized what she was doing.

"Come and get me!~" I taunted, waving the flag in front of their faces. Erin began to spring forward, when a huge wave knocked him and the others back, soaking them.

I cheered and ran into the Red Team base, where I was greeted with hundred of cheers and high-fives. The usual rewards-ceremony or whatever went on, but I was more concerned about finding Timber.

I spotted her sitting against an oak tree, her feet in the river and a small smile plastered across her face. The sunlight reflected against her coal black hair, and her sea green eyes shining.

"Hey," I said, sitting next to her. "Thanks...y'know, for helping me back there." I said softly, twirling one of my golden curls in my hand.

She nodded softly, staying silent for a moment before speaking. "Of course. You're my only friend here...at this camp." Her voice cracked slightly, and she looked away.

My smile faltered, and I place a hand on top of her tan one. I couldn't think of anything to say, so that was the best thing I could think of.

There was a comforting silent as we both stared up at the sky. I found comfort in her presence, and I feel like she did too.

After a minute or two I finally spoke up. "Hey...you're a really sweet girl, but I feel like I don't know much about you. How about you tell me about yourself..?" I said, desperate to get to know her better.

Her eyes lit up, and she straightened up. She immediately began telling me about her family back home, and her huskies, Snow and Ice. She rambled on and on for what felt like hours.

But I didn't mind. I was happy to be a friend, and to finally have a true one.

Look, Dad chose to make me a journal. I can’t help that. He put stories in here for me, but I don’t mind sharing them with you… I guess. I just need you to not be a jerk about it. And don’t ever take my journal again!!!

I’m seeing now how much like Fledge and Buzzy we are. You are the cautious bird, always looking out for yourself. I’m the reckless bird. I know it’s true. Buzzy, haha, I mean Charlie… why do we even fight? Maybe it’s because we’re deep down different. But we used to get along! Gah, I don’t get it. I want to know what happens to Fledge and Buzzy NOW so that I know what to do about YOU!!

Three sets of footsteps echoed against the chipped tile floor of Pensly Junior High, moving much faster than the hall monitor would allow. The trio navigated the maze of hallways with the ease of seasoned students, passing the cafeteria and gymnasium in a blur before arriving at their destination: Principal Poggins' office, widely considered the dullest place in the entire school.

Julia, the tallest and the only eighth grader in the group, reached for the doorknob. Her fingers twitched on the cool metal, but the door remained shut.

“Come on, I can’t wait any longer,” pleaded Victor, bouncing on the balls of his feet with the impatience of someone desperate to leave. Over winter break, his once smooth, tan skin had become rough, dotted with red bumps.

Julia swallowed hard, a lump forming in her throat. She was no better than her anxious vice president beside her. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the doorknob, trying to steady her nerves. In the distance, the sound of the janitor’s mop striking the floor echoed faintly.

A smaller hand rested on hers—an unexpected gesture of reassurance—until Julia noticed the door swinging open. She let out a startled yelp and turned to the culprit, eyes wide.

Landry shrugged, batting her eyes innocently.

“You’re the student council president, Jules. Have more grit,” the blonde said, her voice carrying the commanding tone reserved for Pensly Junior High’s cheer captain.

Landry stepped through the doorway first, followed by Victor and a trembling Julia. Julia had never been summoned to the principal's office on a whim before; their meetings were always scheduled. And why was Landry here? She wasn’t even part of the student council.

They must be in trouble. It was the only explanation Julia could think of, the only reason why all three of them would be here. She picked at the skin under her fingernails, biting her lip. Any second now, they’d be sitting in front of Principal Poggins’ desk, getting scolded for who knows what.

“Look, I didn’t ask to be picked. None of us did,” Victor muttered, his fingers trembling against the hem of his shirt. “But we just have to go in there and hope Principal Poggins isn’t mad at us.”

“Huh?” Julia murmured, unsure of what he meant.

“Are you guys serious? You don’t remember?” Landry asked, hands on her hips as she glanced between Julia and Victor, gauging their reactions. It was clear neither of them had a clue. “We’re here to discuss ideas for the spring dance. We made the PowerPoint last week! Ring a bell?”

Julia’s eyes widened in realization, her mind flooding with memories of brainstorming sessions filled with themes like “Under the Sea” and “Masquerade Ball.” How could she have forgotten?

Landry huffed and rolled her eyes, stepping boldly into Principal Poggins' office. Julia and Victor exchanged nervous glances before following, unprepared but with no other choice.

Hale is on her way to her assigned place.

Hiding out in Gallia isn’t what she would like to do. It’s what she is supposed to do according to the escape plan. As Princess of Allaver, she should follow orders.

Out of all her siblings, Hale is probably the most aware of how wrong this plan could go. How are six royal siblings going to actually all make it to different locations in different directions without a snag. Or several

Though that’s the point. As long as one of them survives this, that’s enough.

Not a lot shakes Hale, but that does. It just feels cold. To leave her family. On purpose.

Hale is the best at stealth in her family, so moving around in the trees, avoiding detection is quite easy for her.

It gives her time to reflect on the last concerning conversation with The General.

After the attack in the Allaver ballroom, Gen told her not to trust anyone. He suspected there was someone on the inside.

Does that mean she shouldn’t follow the escape plan? If the enemy knows about it, there could be someone waiting for her.

Why do things have to be so complicated?

All she longs for is just to train with her trusty blade and that’s it.

She has a while to think about what he said, so she does.

After two days of doing that, she nears the outskirts of Gallia. She remembers from the escape plan and her route that there is a town up ahead.

It shouldn’t be a problem for Hale to go around it. She surely can’t go through it looking how she does with a torn gala dress. She’ll stick out.

She needs new clothes. More inconspicuous ones.

While hidden in the luscious foliage, she hears a racket. It’s close by, coming from her east.

It’s a familiar sound to her. Fighting.

Her siblings always said she couldn’t turn down a fight. It wouldn’t hurt to check it out.

Slipping into the shadows, she moves towards the noises. Hale could see these brightly haired siblings. Their red hair gives them away as siblings, maybe even twins from their close age.

Just a few moments of observing these two battling with some guards, they are the superior warriors.

The girl has agility and speed. The boy has precision and brute strength. Both fight…wildly. It is obvious to Hale that they taught themselves to wield the weapons.

When people teaches themselves to fight, they usually have a reason to. A good reason.

Their physicality is impressive, but they are outnumbered. They need help.

Readying her sword, she leaps out of her spot and blocks an attack from the girl’s flank.

The girl’s eyes widen but to her credit does not falter.

Hale knocks another someone back. Turning around, she swings to cut an arrow heading her way. She takes note of the direction it came from.

A whip of air goes by her head, so she knows to grab a fist coming for her temple. Twisting the man’s arm, she hits the flat side of her blade against his knees. He crumples to the ground. His head meets the handle of Hale’s sword.

Eyeing the archer, she withdraws her dagger. With great precision, she catches the archer in the arm.

Another knife whizzes through the air and lands in the archer’s eye. Hale’s head whips to the side and it came from the boy.

With all the enemies down, she looks closer at the duo and they look closer to her age now that she has time to study them.

“Why did you help us?” The girl’s suspicious and doesn’t hide it. Hale likes that.

Hale shrugs. “You needed help.”

The boy scoffs. “No we didn’t.”

“Let’s just get out of here before any of the living ones wake up,” the girl suggests. The siblings slink into shade of the trees just as easily as Hale. Which must be hard with their hair color.

It doesn’t take much to follow them.

They wanted answers. That’s something she could do.

When they are a safe distance away from their crime scene, they all stop.

“I’m curious now. Who are you?” The boy asks, he studies her. A stare that she is used to. She doesn’t shy away.

One of Gen’s many lessons was about confidence. If you let people know that you care about what they think, then they will use that. You need to either have confidence or make them think you do.

“I’m Hale.”

When she doesn’t elaborate anymore, the girl steps up. “We’re known as Lock and Key. I’m Key.”

“Why would you tell her that?” Presumably Lock questions, clearly annoyed.

It doesn’t bother Hale.

And really, why should it? She likes when people are forward with their emotions. It makes them predictable.

“She saved us whether you’d like to admit that or not,” Key points out. Both of them either forgetting Hale is right there or they don’t care.

“We would have been fine. Like always,” Lock insists. Hale doesn’t think so.

Key has the same observant gaze as her brother. It’s as if Hale’s sapphire dress is coming into view for the first time for her.

“You’re from upper class.” It’s a statement. A true statement.

“I’m Princess Halina.” Hale doesn’t see a reason to lie. Lock and Key are not threats. At least not yet.

And if it came down to it, Hale thinks she could take them both.

Her honesty shocks the siblings. His mouth gapes open with equally wide eyes. Her reaction is a bit more subtle with her whole body tensing.

Hale thought they might question her integrity, but they don’t. They take her word for it. Which is either really trusting or really stupid. She can’t decide.

“Oh, you’re one of those lucky kids that got chosen to be a pretty princess,” Lock says. His sister elbows him. Hard. He does appear to regret it.

Hale has to physically stop herself from rolling her eyes.

Gen’s words echo in her mind. You can’t show how you feel. It works on the battlefield and in a council room.

Instead, she raises her shoulders in an unbothered shrug. “Look. I didn’t ask to be picked. None of us did.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that you were.”

Lock’s attempt to get a rise from her doesn’t work. Hale has met far worse than him.

Her and her siblings were all adopted. They’ve been prepared for criticism and doubt.

“Where are you headed?” Key asks, trying to diffuse the tension between her brother and Hale.

It doesn’t work.

“Somewhere,” Hale declares, trying to be as unhelpful as possible.

“How specific,” sarcasm dripping in Lock’s voice.

Key goes to punch him in the shoulder, but he anticipates that and dodges. “Considering those guards were after you for a reason, maybe I’m keeping my cards close to my chest,” Hale remarks.

“If we wanted to hurt you, we would have already,” Lock mutters. Hale would love to see that.

Giving a smirk, her hand unconsciously going to her blade.

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that.”

Keepers, chosen to aid the ones of high status and rank, to serve their every whim. I am one of them, but who I serve is rather….

“Ugh! Why can’t I seem to get this concoction right!” My Keep whines, banging his fists on his table in child-like anger.

I stand by his side, not too close of course, for I might offend him, and watch as this happens. It seems he’s trying to make some kind of potion. I can’t read, so I don’t know exactly what it is, but it’s hue is blood red and menacing where it settles in that cauldron.

“Frasian!” Ul Kaynum turns toward me, his face red.

“Yes, my lord.”

Ul Kaynum waves his hands at his mess and asks, “Does this look a bit too much to you?”

Yes, yes it does. Though I do not know what it is for. All this work is rather uncharacteristic of you. “No, my lord.”

He grumbles. “Why’d I even ask you; you’re just a slave.”

Yes. I am aren’t I. A slave with a title. Though I have a better life than the other Keepers.

Look, I didn’t ask to be picked. None of us did. But I must say that I am glad my Keep isn’t hard on me in the sense of whipping.

Abruptly, Ul Kaynum stands up from his chair and takes a few steps toward me. “I must say,” he looks me up and down, stopping on my face after he’s made his round, “When’s the last time you’ve taken a dip in the river?” He gives me a sniff then grimaces before he walks away towards his quarters. “Never mind, don’t answer that. Go do it now, Frasian! We are going over to Lord Ul Gads this evening!”

“Yes, my lord,” I mutter, even as he closes the door to change. I sniff myself, has it really been that long?

“Ugh,” I gag. Bless the Emperor, it really has been that long.

My Keep gave me a long, pale red robe made of slik to accompany his same colored trousers and white dress shirt. The servants gave me a look over before I left, dabbing on kohl around my eyes and painting my lips a blood red.

I sit across from Ul Kaynum in his carriage, who’s nose is in a book, with my legs together quite tightly. It’s custom for Keepers to have nothing on but a robe when they go to celebrations. To make it easier for their Keeps to, how may I phrase this, have a pleasant night.

Again, I am glad that my Keep keeps himself occupied in different, less perverted ways.

When we finally arrive at Lord Ul Gads mansion, take my place behind Ul Kaynum as we enter the large doors that are opened by soldiers.

I am not particularly flabbergasted at the sight I behold. I have been to many, many celebrations. (And have seen the horrific things that occur to the Keepers there).

Spread across every white, polished pillar are streamers of velvet red. The floor has red carpets. The walls. Red.

Why is everything red?

As we enter the main hall, I see the other Keepers, still and quiet, lining the wall facing towards an area with cushions and chairs. In those chairs are the other leaders of the land who are all conversating.

The one in the biggest chair chuckles when he seems me and my Keep enter. Ul Gads is rather large and musclar, always with a smile on his face and a predatory gleam in his eye. I must say, I feel bad for his Keeper. The lord reminds me of things that go bump in the night.

“Ah, Kaynum, your late!” He roars, face red with wine. The Keepers don’t react at all to this loud noise. They stand forward, knowing that only bad comes if they anger their Keeps.

Ul Kaynum mumbles a greeting, then signals me to go stand by the other Keepers as he makes his way toward a cushion.

The Keeper I stand next to at the end of the line is a male like me, and as I haven’t seen him before, I assume he’s new. Although he’s much skinner and lighter than me. I’m surprised he became a Keeper. Usually the lighter skinned ones live as a unpaid house keeper or cook.

I spare a glance while the Keeps are distracted. I am met with the purest blue eyes I have ever seen. He is staring right back at me.

Why does he seem so familiar?

It’s deep into the night now. I’m tired. Me legs burn. They haven’t instructed us to sit down, so I have no choice but to stand.

Beside me, the Keeper’s eyes are drooping. I nudge his hand, giving a small sigh when he jolts up. I don’t want him to get punished.

I am relived when Ul Kaynum calls me forth, but then I realize that no other Keeper was called, and that all of the Keeps are looking at me intently.

Ul Gads clears his throat. “Kaynum says you can dance, is that true?”

I don’t think I like whether this is going. Also how the hell did Ul Kaynum find out my past as a child performer. I thought all those papers were burnt.

“Yes, my lord.”

Ul Gads leans back in his chair. “Trink, come stand beside Frasian.”

I do not turn to see who it is. Somehow I already know who it is.

The boy with the blue eyes.

The Keeps chatter amongst themselves. I spot Ul Kaynum having a frown in his brow, as though he is trying very hard to do something.

“All right then you two,” Ul Gads says, sipping on his wine, “Take off your robes.”

I stiffen, the boy beside me doesn’t react at all. Now I know who his Keep is. _Oh bless the Emperor. _ __ But before I even start to reach the hem of my clothing, Ul Gads starts to choke. And splutter. And cough.

Red splotches escape his throat and land on his expensive clothes. His large hand clutches the air, trying to get something, trying to reach something. The Keeps are alarmed, the women screaming, the men rushing towards the lord. Even the soldiers.

But we Keepers stand still. We cannot move until they command us too. For if we do, we risk our lives.

Why should we care about theirs?

Ul Gads is deceased.

I don’t really care about that, I care more about the blue-eyed boy. So image my surprise and excitement when I see him returning with me and my Keep to our home.

“He’s only staying for a hot minute, Frasian,” Ul Kaynum mutters, “Stop looking so excited.”

I sit in the carriage just like I arrived, but with another Keeper by my side. Well, ex-Keeper. I wish to ask him questions, but my Keep is already in a foul mood. I dont want to test the waters and make them boiling.

So I’ll keep my mouth shut for now. Though I do spare him a few glances. Which he returns.

Ul Kaynum __

The poison worked rather too well. I groan to myself, muttering in annoyance when Frasian turns to me, a concerned look in his face. He shouldn’t be so concerned about me of all people. His slaver. The other Keeper, Trink, doesn’t look my way. He’s staring the heck out of Frasian.

But really, I had meant the poison to work more slowly than what it did. I just hope and pray that no one saw me pour the vial.

_Because the Revolution is just starting. _

I spare a look at the two Keepers in front of me. Frasian looks back, he cocks his head, no doubt troubled by my unusual behavior.

And I am going to be a part of it.

He picked the straw the short straw look. I didn’t ask to be picked. None of us did That’s why the straw is the most democratic way of picking somebody So I have to go out there and act us bait for the zombies Yes, they said yes. Run leave them to the trap and then we can shoot them and then you’ll save us all. You’ve got short straw you have choice it’s democratic

“Spaceport Ares West, Controller Bilbao Kurtis, come in unregistered vehicle, report. You are approaching restricted commercial airspace, report.”

Dead air.

“Yo, Mar, I got some weirdness near strip 9A. Check this out. My scanner is picking up five airships small like just hovering. I don’t see the call numbers or any identifiers.”

Chief Space Traffic Controller Margo Delasantos leaned over Kurtis and snapped into his cortex vids. Everyday looked normal, busy but normal, except for a cluster of ships. They were like nothing she had ever seen. They weren’t landing or ascending or waiting for an available space strip. There were no signs of mechanical failure. They were just there nearby but out of the way of the air traffic. She switched into override comms. Shaking her head, Margo straightened.

“It looks like they’re arguing in a huddle. What the hell are these pilots playing at. Must be mad as hatters. Ares West here. Repeat this is Ares West. Unregistered vehicles this is TC Delasantos of Ares West Space port. vehicles, report! You are in a holding pattern in proximity of Ares West. You are in violation of Martian Law of Air Traffic Safety. Report!”

Sensing an anomaly, a Peter Pan support droid rolled up behind Kurtis’ workstation. Other controllers turned their heads to catch what was going on. On break, controller Chris Cheapsides dawdled after the support droid in hopes of extra snacks.

“User Error Delasantos comma Margo, said vehicles are not in violation of any known Martian, Olde Earth, Earth 2.0, Venusian, or Luna Prime laws or regulations. Would you like to learn more? alert. Your cortisol levels are elevated. Blood sugar is trending downwards, Delasantos comma Margo. I am stocked with the cookies you select 87% of the time.”

“Stow it you tin can. Bilbao change frequencies. Perhaps they have old tech.”

On a slender grey arm, Peter Pan 52 produced a plate of warm snickerdoodles. Chris snatched them. Flashing Chris’ BMI, The android gave a half hearted alert. The five unknown ships whizzed around each other like angry bees. Chris crammed an entire cookie in his mouth and groaned in pleasure.

“Guys, I love these cookies. Now call me crazy but I think they look like oversized recycling trash haulers. You know the kind Waste Management sets up to scrub its Venus airships. Could be new models? It looks like someone has scratched off their company logo.”

“Yo I think you might be right, Chris, man. I don’t have visuals on pilots and I’m not picking up life sighs. Should I alert security and corporate of a potential terrorist attacker, Mar. wait I’m picking up something .”

Static reverberated across the control tower. Frantically Bilbao adjust to get a clear message.

“Look I didn’t ask to be picked. None of us did. We have a choice take the mission—you mean suicide mission don’t you Alph?—cool down Beta we can take the mission which will surely result in one or more of our being demaged beyond repair. Or we can try to hide. Don’t cry Delt. You’ll get Charlie started.— there’s a third option. We can fight. How many more of us will crash on the risky transports? We’re more than mindless machines. We are people too in our way and not just a line item.”

Another blast of static sounded. Chris dropped his plate. Margo and Bilbo looked at one another and then back at the starships, huddled closer as if in prayer. As if one the five ships zoomed off. Margo tapped her comms to reach out to security. Rolling over the plate, Peter Pan 52 went off to offer tea and sympathy to the other controllers making an odd giggly sound.

"Look, I didn't ask to be picked. None of us did." Sarah's nostrils were flaring, her usually pale cheeks painted bright red. "I know." Anmer's voice quivered as he spoke. He understood what she meant. None of them had chosen to be a part of this battle. "I won't do it. I refuse to be a pawn in the hands of an angry god." This angered Ammer. An angry god? The Creator was anything but that. Despite Sarah's rage, he couldn't bring himself to believe that the Creator had chosen them without care. None of them had asked to be picked, Sarah was right about that, but if not them, who? Who else would fight? "It's our duty, Sarah. We can't quit. We can't run away, even if we're afraid." "You think I'm afraid?" Sarah sounded offended, her brow furrowing in confusion. Ammer said nothing. "I'm not afraid. I'm tired. I just want to go home, and I don't even know where home is." He wanted to reach out to her then, comfort her. He could see the tears in her eyes, but pretended not to. He knew she'd punch him in the shoulder if he tried anything, but he knew how she felt. He missed his home. The home he once had, back in Epoh. That home was long gone, destroyed forever by the Rogues. Tears filled his own eyes as he realized he had no home. No place to go back to. He was a wanderer. They all were.

Not me You see It’s a lie Let fly

They won It’s done Game over Lost in clover

Go back We lack They speak We are weak