by Edward Lake
Our mother once told us that God could speak to anyone and that the Lord would only talk to those who listened. She would always tell us she “talked to God every day.” She told me that God told her the truth about Pastor Saros and his Holy Empire and that he was responsible for our family’s suffering and the suffering of all slaves.
To be honest, I never believed she could actually talk to God, but I thought she was trying to tell us that God could speak to us through other people. My understanding of it was that the spirit could send us messages so we could follow a life of righteousness.
The only problem was that I hadn’t yet learned how to listen to the Lord. Maybe I wasn’t wise enough to hear God’s voice. Or maybe I wasn’t listening.
Right before my mother died of a terrible illness, she told us to never abandon our faith in God and that the Holy Spirit was the one true ruler of the stars. Not the Saros Dynasty. In fact, she once called the High Priest “a fraud in an elegant robe.” That was the day my childhood ended. I remembered the sad gaze in her eyes. It remained burned in my mind, like a sear from the hot sun.
Cell by cell, the soldiers opened the doors and ordered everyone out. When they got to us, Declan went out first. The same soldier who brought us up for the fight shoved us ahead into the long, noisy hallway.
Down the hall, like parts on a conveyor belt, packs of our fellow slaves were loaded into the elevators and taken to the yard. Our slow hike to the elevators took nearly an hour. When we got to the yard, the soldiers pushed us along and got everyone in line. The area was packed so tight I could barely move.
Floating amplifiers in the sky whizzed past our heads, and then a routine message from the Holy Planet Sodus echoed across the vast yard. “Attention slaves of District Four! The High Priest’s sermon will begin shortly. Keep your mouths shut and focus your eyes on the monitor. This is your time to show your devotion to God. Do not tarnish it with your miserable whining and pathetic banter. If anyone is caught talking during the Pastor’s sermon or not paying attention, they will receive ten lashings.”
A tiny, thin device zipped over the crowd of slaves and slowly bloomed into a massive holographic screen. Throughout my twenty years of life, since I could remember, I always wondered how they created these amazing tools. When I was a young girl, I used to dream about journeying to the Holy Planet Sodus and meeting Pastor Saros. Back then, I was too naive to realize how evil he was. Then, over the years, during his recorded sermons, I saw him behead poor men and women for stealing and hang people like me and their lovers.
The monitor above our heads revealed the massive crowd at the Stadium of Sodus on the Holy Planet of Sodus, where Pastor Saros and his family lived. Like always, they were dressed in white and gold, clapping and cheering as they awaited their leader.
Shortly thereafter, Pastor Saros appeared on the stage with his wife, Agnes, and his lovely daughter, Sadie. Every time I saw her, this warm, gushy feeling sparked in my stomach. For some reason, she seemed so distant from her father, like she secretly hated the man. The way she fondled her hair and rolled her eyes when he talked made it seem like she knew every word he spoke was a farce.
The cameras zoomed in on the High Priest’s face, showing his neat, gray and black hair, trimmed goatee, and pearl white smile. He waved at the crowd and danced his way to the podium. When he began his speech, it was the same rambling as all his other sermons. “God is good this,” “God is great that,” and a lesson for the day.
Pastor Saros talked about suppressing our deepest and darkest desires so the “devil within our souls” did not consume us. All around me, everyone glared at the screen and patiently waited for the boring jabber to end.
“Look inside yourselves. God is with you, Starlight,” Pastor Saros continued. “Don’t let the devil in. Keep the darkness away and deny your temptations. Evil deeds will only lead to suffering, my people.”
The hour-long sermon felt like a four-hour drag. When it finally ended, an echoing sigh erupted throughout the prison yard. It was over, and our grumbling stomachs could now get some much-needed nourishment.
The midday meal also gave me a chance to see Kyra Harper, an old childhood friend. She worked in the kitchen with her mother, Olga. Her father, Nye, died years ago in a death match. He was a good friend of my father, and Olga was always so nice to me and my family whenever we saw her. Yet over the years, I had developed a secret affection for Kyra. I wondered what she would think of me if she knew.
Sadie Saros was just a fantasy. Kyra was real, and being around her gave me a joy that was hard to put into words, a happiness that felt everlasting. Even so, I wouldn’t dare tell her how I truly felt about her. My secret was safe with my family. If anyone outside our circle knew, my life would be at risk.
Step by step, the Ezra bunch made it over to the huge outdoor kitchen on the far side of the yard. We waited in the slow-moving line for a long time. The moment Kyra came into clear view, a little smile grew on my face. She wore a hairnet and a white buttoned getup that was heavily stained. Her short-cut brown hair bobbed neatly over her shoulders. She dashed from side to side, loading everyone’s trays with red meat, steamed vegetables, and a cup of water. Her sharp hazel eyes rapidly crisscrossed as she went on, and she sweated heavily on her brow, panting under the heat of the kitchen.
Declan caught me eyeing her and calmly said, “Keep it together, Zena.”
“What are you talking about?”
He laughed. “I can’t say it out in the open like this, but you know exactly what I’m saying.”
Geez, was it that obvious? I thought. If Declan knew, I figured Grandma Petra knew, too. Sure enough, I glanced at her and caught a stern, warning glare.
“Zena, we just talked about this,” she barked.
“Okay, I get it. Can you two just leave me alone now?”
I put my head down and moped on my way to Kyra. Once we arrived at her station, I peeked at her and said, “Hi, Kyra.”
She looked right at me and replied with a chipper smile. “Hey, Zena. I’ll find you on the yard when I’m done here.”
To keep Declan and Grandma off my back, I didn’t say anything back to her and kept moving. But inside, I was giddy with anticipation. Looking forward to it, my friend. You’re one of the best parts of my day.
4
Zena
We found a spot on the yard and sat down in a circle with our trays neatly placed on our laps. Declan’s shoulder was getting worse by the minute. He could barely lift his arm up over his leg to rest it on his knee. Even with the pain, he managed to balance his tray and eat with one arm. How can he possibly fight in ten days?
I looked across the circle to Grandma Petra. She had a concerning stare on her face, shaking her head as she ate. “We need to get your shoulder right, Declan. When we return to our cell, I want you to lie down and rest. Zena and I will take turns working with you once you wake up.”
“I’ll be fine, Grandma,” he grumbled, munching a large helping of red meat.
She smiled at him and shook her head. “You sound just like your father.”
I loved when Grandma talked about her son, our father. It helped me imagine what he was like. I remembered his looks, his adoring charm, and how he always used his witty imagination to make it seem like our reality as slaves wasn’t real. Yet I still didn’t know what kind of man he was. Father, what inspired you to be so creative? How did you manage to survive so long as a slave fighter? Those were just a few of the questions I wished I could ask him.
“Mother said he was stubborn like a rock but also sweet like fruit,” Declan said. He nodded and added, “That does sound like me.”
Grandma laughed. “Yeah, you look just like him, too.”
“Mother always said that I looked more like our father,” I said.
“Oh yes, that is very true. But that is because you and Declan are like twins,” she clarified. “In fact, if he cut off all his facial hair and if your hair was cut short like his, at first glance, I wou
ldn’t be able to tell the difference.”
Declan chuckled at Grandma’s claim. “You do realize I’m much bigger than Zena.”
She laughed and gave him a silly stare. “Of course, she’s a woman and you’re a man, but she’s bigger and taller than most women.”
“Hi, Zena,” a voice from over us said. I looked up and saw Kyra. Wearing a pretty smile, she waved at me and said, “I told you I would come and find you.”
I quickly chewed, swallowed the food in my mouth, and stood up. “Hey, Kyra. Shall we go for a walk?”
She nodded. “That would be great. I need a shoulder to cry on.” She looked around the circle, still smiling. “Petra, Declan, kids, how is everyone?”
“Doing just fine, dear,” Grandma said.
“Will you sit with us, Kyra?” Lydia cheerfully asked, tapping on the ground.
She blushed and beamed at my little sister. “Oh, that’s okay. I already ate my food. But I will be back later with Zena.” She knelt beside her. “How about you, me, and Turk play a fun game with the other kids on the yard when we return?”
Lydia nodded and flashed a big, overjoyed smile. “That would be great!”
Declan rudely ignored Kyra. He kept his eyes on his tray and scooped a large portion of vegetables into his mouth.
I rolled my eyes at him as I extended my hand to Kyra. “Come on. Let’s go.”
I pulled her up, and we sauntered into the fervent chatter on the yard. Most of our fellow slaves were sitting on the ground with their friends and family members and gobbling down the food on their trays. Others stood in tight circles, gossiping about Maven’s death.
This was our time to feel alive, to converse and share our feelings. Food to us was like money to the rich. Those greedy monsters could never understand the importance of a decent meal, for if they could not see the value in the lives they bet on, they could never see the value in anything.
I had family and friends—things that were priceless. I didn’t need fancy ships or nice clothes or even neatly groomed hair. I had something that could only be gained by being genuine and selfless: love.
“What’s wrong with Declan?” Kyra asked.
I let out a deep sigh. “He hurt his shoulder in the fight this morning. We’re praying that he heals in time for the next battle.”
We walked in silence for a moment, and then Kyra tapped me with a playful nudge. “I was hoping to cry on your shoulder and tell you how awful my morning was, but your troubles seem far worse than mine. I’m here for you, Zena.”
My body trembled with Kyra so close. We slowed our pace down a bit, yet I felt my heart thumping faster and faster. “If only there was someplace we could go. Somewhere more private?” I stopped walking, took Kyra’s hand, and faced her. “I don’t want to talk about my problems out in the open like this.”
She smiled, which made her cheeks look so adorable. “We can sneak into the kitchen. My mother and I do it all the time.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “To steal food. We stuff it in our shoes and take it back to our cell.”
A mischievous grin spread across my face. “Show me the way.”
Kyra giggled and swiftly pulled me along as she turned and dashed into the crowd. She ducked and weaved like a scavenger sneaking away with a handful of crumbs.
“My goodness, slow down. Are you sure about this?” I muttered as we zigzagged from place to place.
“Trust me, Zena. I’ve done this enough times with my mother. We must get to the kitchen before the cameras rotate.”
Right away, I looked up and spotted a collection of cameras—tiny black dots hovering in the sky like flying bugs. Kyra finally slowed down once we got close to the kitchen. She carefully veered to our left and led me over to the farthest kitchen wall, near the forcefield that bordered the prison yard.
She stopped and looked up. “Wait here for a moment.” She squinted her eyes, checking to see if the cameras were still facing the other direction. She quickly lowered her head and glimpsed from side to side. I copied her to help survey the area. There were no patrolling soldiers close by.
“Okay, follow me,” she whispered.
We hurried over to the wall and barely squeezed our bodies through a narrow, jagged split. On the other side of the wall, Kyra shook off the maneuver like it was nothing. I, on the other hand, winced in pain like I had just survived a death match.
“How in the galaxy do you do that without getting hurt?” I groaned, hunched over on my knees.
Kyra laughed and brushed some dirt off her shoulders. “Like I said, I’ve snuck through that crack in the wall plenty of times. Once you do it enough, you won’t even notice the pain. But don’t feel bad. The first time I snuck through, it hurt so bad I cried.”
Doing my best to appear tough to her, I stood up tall and shook off the lingering ache. “I’m okay now. I just needed a few seconds to collect myself.”
Kyra walked up to me and took my hand. “Come on, old friend. Let’s have a seat against the wall.”
Together, we moved over to the wall and sat down. For a few minutes, we sat in silence and listened to the blissful noise on the other side of the wall. The sounds of children chasing each other caught my attention. It reminded me of Kyra, Declan, and me when we were little.
“Those were the best of times, weren’t they?” I asked her.
“Mmm, yes, they sure were. You were so fast. No matter how hard I tried, I could never catch you.”
I blew out a sad sigh. “Sometimes I wish we could go back in time and play on the yard like that again. Being young and naive was great.”
Kyra reached across my chest and kindly tapped my leg. “Tell me about it. Getting old is no fun.” She turned her head and stared at me. “What did you want to tell me, Zena?”
I blinked nervously and hesitated for a moment. That I’ve loved you for a long time, but not as a friend. “It’s nothing, really. I’ll tell you another day.”
Kyra smacked her lips at me and playfully nudged my side. “Don’t be like that. From the moment I saw you in the food line, I knew something was bothering you. Is it your brother? Maybe your Grandma Petra?” She leaned into me. “Come on. You can tell me.”
“Forget it, Kyra.” I yanked back my shoulder and arm, then scooted a few inches away from her, too. I looked down and closed my eyes.
“Zena?”
I opened my eyes and slowly exhaled. I shyly turned my head and stared at Kyra. “Look, I’m sorry for yelling at you. I was enjoying the peace and quiet with you, and I didn’t want to bring up my issues.”
She gave me a comforting nod. “It’s okay. I understand.”
Suddenly, a rapid buzzing sound came over us. I looked up and saw a cluster of long, black, pointy-shaped ships flying over the prison yard. Then an earthshattering boom echoed from afar. The ground began to shake, and on the other side of the wall, loud screams blared from all over.
I grabbed Kyra and shoved her into the corner. “Stay here and keep your head down.” I ducked low and rushed to the crack in the wall. I peeked through the splintered opening and saw everyone running for cover. Oh no, Declan! Grandma Petra and the little ones! I scanned the area, searching for them and shaking like a patch of tall grass caught in a whirlwind.
The soldiers patrolling the yard drew their guns and aimed up at the sky. They fired away at the eerie black ships, but it was no use. Huge blasts from the sky came down and rocked the yard. I bent low and covered my head, trembling but still peeking.
I listened to Kyra cry out in horror behind me. “Zena! What is going on out there!”
“I don’t know!”
At last, battleships from the Holy Army swooped into action and blasted the mysterious black ships with rapid fire. I was utterly petrified—yet amazed at the same time. I had never seen an encounter like this. The bulky white and gold ships of the Holy Army blazed across the sky like shooting stars. Watching the sheer speed of it all was overwhelming. My eyes could not keep up wit
h the action. The black ships were just as fast, looping around in circles and firing bright red lasers at the soldiers on the ground and the ships in the sky.
Devastating blasts rocked the kitchen walls. Massive chunks of debris flew past us and rocketed into the cold, tall storage containers where all the food was kept. I spun around and jumped into the corner with Kyra. I shielded her with my body and put my head down.
“I love you, Kyra,” I finally said. She didn’t hear me say it. There was too much chaos and bloodshed happening all around us. But it felt good to say the words. “I love you, Kyra,” I said to her again. From underneath me, I could barely hear her cries and screams. Still, I gently rubbed her head, trying my best to soothe her. Dear God, let us live. Keep my family safe, Almighty God, I prayed.
Part 2
Slave Soldier
5
Pastor Saros
The Holy Spirit had a plan for us all. Every day, I prayed that my people would listen to the Almighty God, the ruler of the galaxy and the creator of all things. I prayed they would bend to God’s will so that life could flourish in the image of our Lord and Savior.
I was a priest, a messenger of God. I was not the creator of all things or the ruler of the stars. Like all men, I was merely a servant of the Holy Spirit. That was the ultimate law: for all men and women to serve God.
One of my ancestors, Talib Saros, took over the galaxy during the Crusade Wars. Millions of our people died during that war, and it became known as the “dark days” of the Saros Empire.
I learned about the gory history of our sacred nation at the Temple of Learning. Back then, there were many priests who individually ruled the planets of Starlight, fools who lied to their followers, preaching that all men were equal servants of God. The Saros Dynasty preached the truth. We understood that all men were not equal and that slaves and servants needed to exist so our society could prosper.