A tiny starship traced a bluish-white line across the purple and orange sky of Kester 5, as Lysander watched its patient ascent in a state of listless curiosity. Why was it alone? he wondered. What was its purpose?

As a lowly soldier in the revolutionary militia, preparing to depart for a surprise incursion into the capital planet of Zyroth, he had no way to answer such questions. His comrades bustled around him, doing more work than he, but they were ahead of schedule and already relaxing, laughing, gossiping.

A lumbering transport hovered into view and, with a thrust of its boosters, zoomed off at surprising speed. Each transport that left meant one closer to his…

Fate. His life had been unremarkable, had it not? Growing up in a town not far from where he stood, he had labored tirelessly at various jobs to help his family put bread on the table. At night he would gaze up at the moons and their orbital docking rings and dream of interstellar trade. He was grateful for the meager opportunities he had been given, but there was always that burning side of him that felt there was something more to be had. When the revolution came to his doorstep and orators led mobs in chants of death to the Hyperion elite, he knew that this was the change that could lead him to prosperity.

Another transport was away.

But on the brink of his first deployment, something in his feelings was amiss. Why did they want new recruits like him to join the fight somewhere as important as the capital? Could it really be the decisive battle they seemed to suggest, or was it just supposed to be some kind of distraction? They had proclaimed how troops would have the opportunity to plunder Hyperion palaces and keep whatever riches they could carry, but Lysander now thought he would rather have the opportunity to learn the significance of that starship in the distance.

Another transport, away.

Some men, when out of earshot of their women comrades, would joke about bringing back beautiful Hyperion maidens and seducing them—or worse—but Lysander mentally scoffed at these ideas, not because he knew enough to deplore immorality, but because he already had a woman back home, someone he would fight for, die for, be everything he could be for. She was the fire in his heart, but the flame had turned blue when she became pensive ever since he told her of his enlistment in the militia. She had spoken of the devils on Zyroth; surely she would eventually understand why he chose to embark on this war. After all, hers was the light that gave him the strength to act on his convictions.

“You excited for this mission?” asked his comrade Benny, coming up to him and clapping his shoulder. “We’re going to see the capital! Finally getting off this hellhole of a planet. I can’t wait to cruise through those arched streets!”

“Yeah,” Lysander laughed nervously, “although I don’t think we’ll have much time to enjoy it.”

Another transport went away. While Kester 5 was not the most hospitable planet, it was his home. He did not relish the thought of leaving behind what he knew, but perhaps others did. It was almost time to board.

Someone shouted his name. He turned to find Helena, the flame, being escorted toward him, breaking into a run as he stood to face her and halting for a second before wrapping him in an embrace.

“I had to find you,” she murmured. “I was afraid you were gone.”

“I’m here,” he said. “I’m so happy to see you before I—“

“Don’t go.”

“What?”

“I don’t want you to go. You have a life here. WE have a life here. I want you to stay.”

She was holding his face in her hands and breaking apart. He almost could not comprehend what she was saying with his comrades watching, but for a moment a foreboding flashed before his eyes and screamed vehemently in his ears to turn his back on the war, on his comrades, to go home with her and live in peace, or elope if necessary to flee the court martial. He held her hands in his.

“I’m sorry,” were the words that escaped his mouth. “I have to go.”

He was right, he thought, as he pulled away. Cowardice is a mortal sin. He wanted to triumph over fear and be someone worth believing in. And frankly, it was a little annoying that she still didn’t understand his cause.

“I’ll be back soon!” he called back to her weeping, solitary figure, but whether whole or in pieces, he could not say.