All Day Long I've Been With Jesus (Part 1 of 3)

 

Dasco hurried across the terrace, his sandals making a slight thumping sound against the stone. It was early morning, and all of the city was bathed in soft green light, as the distant rim of Cosin-34's verdant sun peaked up the horizon, seeming even more green than usual as its light reflected across the distant ocean. The night chill still seemed to cling every stone of the city like a sort of slime and most sensible people were still in their houses, waiting for full day before beginning their work

Dasco didn't mind the cold especially. For a moment it crossed his mind to wish he had put on a thicker tunic, but he knew that by the time he came home, the day would be warmer. Besides, maybe the cool weather would help him keep awake. He wasn't used to getting up this early in the morning. But as chaotic as things had been lately, this was the best time for their meetings, and so he accepted it.

As he reached the steps to the upper terrace, he passed his father who was in conversation with one of the city's soldiers. His father glanced at him and smiled slightly. Dasco and his father were close enough that they didn't need to talk in order to communicate. And the boy had no desire to interrupt his father when he was busy. He did pause a moment halfway up the steps and glance back down at the scene. It was strange to see his father like this. He was dressed in the plain tunic and leggings of a common soldier and was holding a large plasma rifle propped against his side as he talked. Despite his position in the government of Cosin-34, Dasco's father had always been more like a soldier than a politician. Still, it was strange seeing him embrace that role so completely.

Dasco shivered for just a moment, and this time not because of the weather. He knew what his father feared; he knew why the management of Cosin-34's military had suddenly become such a priority. But he could only hope and pray that the fear was in vain. Because if that possibility ever came true...

Dasco threw his head back and hurried up the stairs. He had no time to be thinking such morbid thoughts. He had not gotten up this early in the morning in order to brood.

Like his father, Dasco was fair-haired and green-eyed and both had the same ramrod-straight posture. But with that, the similarities ended. Of course, Dasco was only thirteen, but he doubted that even as an adult he would ever match his father's muscular build. His father seemed certain that Dasco would follow in his steps as a politician, but there wasn't much likelihood that he would ever be a soldier.

As he reached the parapet, he heard the sound of someone running behind him. He glanced over his shoulder just as another boy ran up the stairs to join him. Dasco smiled in greeting. “I thought you would already be at the meeting place, Auden.”

Auden shook his head. “N-no. I was waiting for Jan. But he and Father are having a—conversation. So I just came on ahead.”

Dasco nodded. He knew how much Auden hated conflict. And so if his brother and father were having an argument—which they usually were, anymore—Dasco wasn't surprised that he had wanted to get away. “What was it about this time?”

Auden just shook his head again. “Everything, I think. You know how Father is. Especially with all that's going on.”

Right now, Dasco certainly did not envy men like his friends' father, who was one of the ruling elders of Cosin-34. First with the plague and all the civil unrest and now with the possibility of war—it was times like this that made him question his own decision to pursue a career in politics. “At least we've seen the worst of the plague now.”

“Y-yes.” Auden always stuttered when he was nervous or embarrassed. Dasco wished he had thought better of the comment—he knew how much the younger boy disliked being reminded of the plague. But his embarrassment at that comment was nothing compared to the next moment.

They passed another soldier who was making his way down towards the plaza, and as they passed he stopped in place, drew himself up and saluted. “Hail to our savior!” he cried in an impassioned monotone. And then clicking his heels he marched on.

Auden's complexion was too dark to allow him to blush, but he did look for an instant as if he wanted to try to hide behind Dasco. He did not much look like anybody's savior. His slight frame and childish face made him look younger than his eleven years—certainly, to look at him you would never suspect that his head contained an unusual assortment of scientific knowledge, knowledge which had allowed him to develop the treatment which had turned the plague from a catastrophe to a minor inconvenience. He may really have saved Cosin-34; definitely, he had saved many of the people in it. But he hated it when people made a fuss over him because of it.

Dasco sighed. Not that it mattered. With the way things were going lately, the plague and its cure had almost faded out of everyone's mind already in light of new problems and concerns.

As they reached the entrance to the meeting room, another soldier passed them. “Good morning, Dasco, Auden,” he greeted, though he did not pause in his walk. Dasco stopped for a second and stared after him. The man had spoken as if he knew them well, but he didn't recognize him—a short man with blonde hair and a mustache. He knew most of the city's soldiers at least by sight, but this man was a stranger. Then he waved aside the thought and walked into the meeting room.

It was a small, round room set near the top of one of the governmental buildings of Cosin-34's capital. It had once been a meeting place for one of the government's committees, but now it was unused and Dasco and his friends had gotten permission to use it.

Dasco and Auden had barely sat down when another figure stalked into the room. Dasco looked up with a concerned expression. “I see you finished up your conversation, Jan,” he said quietly.

Jan walked across the room without answer until he came to the window which was filled by the growing green light of morning. He had the same black hair and dark complexion that Auden did, but other than that the brothers didn't look much alike. Jan was also somewhat short for his age, but he was more compactly built and with a hardened face that made him look older than thirteen. He always looked a little morose but today he seemed more so than usual. He stood with his back to the other boys, his fist clenched convulsively. “I can't take this anymore.”

“What's wrong?”

“The same thing that's been wrong with this planet for the last fifty years. The elders are playing a losing game. They're gambling our lives and because they've always won so far, nobody cares.” He spun around to face them, breathing heavily. “As long as there's still money pouring into Cosin-34, nobody asks twice about where it comes from or what it's costing us.”

Dasco didn't answer. After all, what was there to say? He and Jan both knew the state of things on the planet. (How much Auden cared or even knew about politics he was never sure.) The export of the valuable ores found beneath Cosin-34's surface had brought prosperity to the planet and with that prosperity had come greed and decadence. And now the elders were making choices that easily could—that almost certainly would—that perhaps already had—doomed them all...

“I—I finally told father everything today, everything I really think,” Jan said, his hands still shaking with the strength of his emotion. “Perhaps I was out of place—perhaps I was presumptuous—but someone has to say it. Entering into an alliance with pagans like Draxmoor was bad enough, but then to break that alliance for the sake of a little gold—it is going to end in tragedy for us all. I told Father that—and do you know what he said?” Jan looked down at his feet, his voice hot and tight. “He said that God will protect us, just as He delivered us from the plague. As if we have any right to claim God's protection now.”

Dasco took a deep breath. He certainly couldn't disagree with anything his friend had said. But: “We didn't meet here to talk politics, Jan.”

“Of course.” He walked forward and sat down beside the other two boys. “We're meeting because we don't want to be—like that—”

Dasco shook his head violently. “No. No, don't say it that way. We're not trying to be better than anyone—we just want—”

“Let me show you something,” interrupted Jan abruptly, pulling out his tablet. For a moment, his brooding face was transformed by a new light. Dasco knew that look—that meant he had been doing research. Jan's love of the past and historical investigation was one of the main things keeping his concern for the present and the future from driving him mad. “I ran across this old song in the archives—one that they brought here from Earth. I think it expresses what it is we want—why it is we meet here.” He tapped the screen and then handed it to Dasco who held it so that Auden could see it as well. 

The text on the screen read: 

All day long I've been with Jesus, 

It has been a wonderful day. 

I have moved up one step higher, 

In the good old-fashioned way. 

I have spoken words of kindness; 

Lord, you know if I have done wrong: 

I will go and make it right 

So I can testify tonight 

I've been with Jesus all day long.

“Probably some of the poetry is lost in translation,” Jan commented. (All three boys, like nearly everyone else in that sector of space, had implanted translators which could automatically translate spoken or written words from any known language.) “But—that's what we want, isn't it?” And once again the shadow fell over his face. “And maybe if Cosin-34 had truly lived that way, we wouldn't be where we are now.”

Dasco was rereading the words carefully. Cosin-34 had been evangelized by Christian missionaries from -(1)d early in its history and since that time the worship of the true God had always been the official religion of the planet. A few hundred years ago, a number of Christian refugees from Earth had made their way to the planet, bringing a new influx of religious passion. But, somehow, now, things were different. They still claimed to worship the true God—the Creator, the Messiah—setting them clearly aside from their pagan and superstitious neighbors like Zamuna and Draxmoor. But it was clear that actual concern for God and living for Him had fallen to the side somewhere.

“Yes, that's what we want,” he said slowly, as he handed the tablet back to Jan. “To live each day for Him, with Him. That's why I wanted to start these meetings.”

Jan shook his hair back and stared at the tablet. “I probably didn't speak words of kindness this morning.”

“Sometimes speaking the truth is kindness, even when it doesn't feel like it.” Dasco cupped his chin in his hands. “But, anyway, isn't that the point? Of course, we're going to make mistakes sometimes. What makes the difference is being willing to make them right.”

For a moment the three boys sat there, each seeming lost in his own thoughts. Then Dasco raised his head abruptly. “Jan, Auden: is this what we want? Is this what we chose? To live this way—like that song?”

Jan looked at him with his head on one side. “Of course.”

“No. There's no 'of course' about it. It's—it's a choice we have to make it.” He placed his hand on the small table in the middle of the room. “But it is what I want. And that is my commitment—to live this day for Him, no matter what that means.”

Jan laid his hand down on top of Dasco's. “And mine as well. I refuse to live like Father and the rest of Cosin-34. I want that song to be my life.”

Auden glanced at the other two and then without speaking laid his hand on top of theirs. Dasco wasn't sure how much the younger boy really understood, but he understood enough.

For just a moment they remained like that, and then, as if by a common instinct, they pulled their hands back, perhaps a little awkwardly. “But of course, we can't do it without His help,” said Dasco.

“Which is why we're here. To pray.”

Dasco nodded and then, bowing his head, began to pray. On one hand, he regretted the fact that it was just the three of them. When they had first started these early morning prayer meetings a month before, several other boys of their age had joined them, but they had all fallen off along the way. But while he wished they had stayed, Dasco was also glad it was just the three of them. He felt awkward and uncomfortable praying in front of other people—but Jan and Auden were practically family. They had been close neighbors all their lives; their fathers were close friends, after a fashion; and they had known the loss of their mothers while still young. Dasco still felt a little awkward about praying with them or even discussing spiritual things, but it was easier than with others.

And then, without warning, it happened. There was a muffled thud somewhere far away which still seemed to shake the entire building. And with that, the entire world seemed to go mad. There was a series of reports and a whistling sound in the air and the blaring of sirens.

At the first sound, both Dasco and Jan were on their feet and exchanged a single glance. They knew what this meant. But even that knowledge didn't prepare them for what they saw as they looked out the windows.

The meeting room was set high enough that almost all of the capital of Cosin-34 could be seen spreading out before them towards the green waters of the sea. And now on the expanse beyond the city's wall, they could see the huge black bulks of five transport ships out of which were spilling a stream of soldiers charging at full tilt toward the city. The sun had fully risen now, but the sky was filled with shadows, as men wheeled and swooped above the city, born by strange wing-like armor. And all bore the insignia of a dragon's head emblazoned on their helmets.

The thing they all feared most had come to pass. Draxmoor had launched an invasion.

The next instant, the door was thrown open and Dasco's father burst into the room. There was no need to explain. “Quickly, boys,” he ordered. “Get out of the city towards the mountain. We're preparing an evacuation ship.”

Dasco stood up and took a step forward. “Father—I—I want to stay and fight with you.” Jan rose and moved forward, clenching his fists—apparently with the same idea.

“We have no extra weapons and no time.” His voice was urgent and authoritative but there was no sharpness to it. “And if by some miracle anything survives this day, you three will be needed more than ever.” He reached forward and gave Dasco a quick squeeze on the shoulder. “And if we do not meet again here, may God grant that we meet on the other side. Now—go!” And shouldering his rifle, he strode out of the room.

Dasco swallowed hard. Part of him wanted to run after his father—to stay with him—somehow to help him. But he knew he was right. He was no soldier; he would only be in the way.

Jan, meanwhile, had leaped back to the middle of the room and with a quick motion had overturned the table. With a wrench, he pulled off one of the legs of the table. “Just in case,” he said, holding it like a club. “Auden--”

Auden hadn't moved. His eyes were large and his lip seemed to be trembling slightly as if he wanted to cry. But when Jan said his name, the spell seemed to break, and he jumped up and joined the boys as they turned and hurried out the back door of the meeting room. This would take them through the old part of the city towards the mountains which formed the backdrop of the capital. “But where can the evac ship go?” asked Jan as they ran across the back terrace. It was strangely chaotic, as the city's soldiers ran past them towards the scene of conflict “Nowhere on Cosin-34 will be safe.”

“I wonder if they got a message to Zamuna,” said Dasco, breathlessly.

“Even assuming Zamuna would be willing to risk themselves to help us—which I doubt—they couldn't get any forces here in time.”

“Look!” Auden's eyes suddenly lit up. “They have the mech up and running.” The other two glanced up to see Cosin-34's one mobile battle unit lumbering uncertainly across the pavement. “Maybe we have a chance.”

“Even if we did--” Jan broke off and didn't finish his thought.

But Dasco knew what he meant. Even if somehow they did manage to defeat the invasion force, it would be meaningless. This force, as great as it was, was barely even a fraction of Draxmoor's military might. Their one hope had been that Draxmoor either wouldn't know or wouldn't care about Cosin-34's perfidy. But now that they had attacked, they wouldn't stop until they won.

Making and then breaking a treaty with the most powerful empire in the known universe had definitely not been the wisest decision the elders had ever made.

The three boys were almost to the far wall of the terrace when they heard a roar as of a savage animal and the body of a soldier flew past them like a missile, stopping with a thud on the far wall. Over the back of the terrace—coming from the very direction in which they were trying to escape—there came a group of Draxmoorian soldiers, boiling up over the parapet like the foam of some infernal brew. The soldiers who had been heading towards the front wheeled uncertainly to face this new threat, but they were too disorganized to put up much of a fight. The winged units, who were mostly armed with long-range rifles, picked off enough of the defense in the first five seconds of the fight to leave the rest easy prey for the foot soldiers (who were mostly armed with swords or short-range guns). But even at that, it might have been an even fight, if it hadn't been for the man who led the charge.

He was the largest man the boys had ever seen, easily over two meters tall, with the bulk to match. He was bare-chested and you could trace across his torso countless scars and burn marks which testified to a long career as a warrior. His face was also scarred, as if from the claws of some mighty beast. He carried no weapon, but over his hands, he had a sort of exoskeleton of iron tipped with sharp claws. But the most remarkable thing about him was that his skin was a deep blue and his hair, which was pulled back into a ponytail that reached almost to his waist, was burgundy.

The giant seemed to know no fear and charged without caution into the heart of the defending soldiers, knocking them out of his way as easily as a man swatting flies. Dasco realized that he was heading for the mech, which had now turned to face this new enemy. None of the other weapons had made any impact on the blue giant, but he thought the canon of the mech would certainly knock him back if nothing else.

But the canon never fired. From high in the air something shot downward like a purple meteor. It cut through the mech, melting half of the machine into so much slag in a matter of seconds. The pilot was thrown wide but the purple thing leaped upon him, seeming to coalesce and transform as it did.

He was dead before he hit the ground.

And over him stood a girl, perhaps a year older than Dasco and Jan. Her armor was significantly more ornate than those of the other soldiers, and the head of her spear glowed with a purple radiance.

The giant gave a roar of anger. “That was my kill, Lady Katalina.”

“Oh, really?” The girl spoke contemptuously. “I thought you were here on other business, Blue Cedric. Are those children the ones?” She motioned with her spear towards the wall.

Dasco froze for a second. It seemed as if she had motioned directly towards them.

It was the first time that anyone had seemed to notice the three boys. Blue Cedric turned towards them and then began lumbering forward followed by two of the Draxmoorian footsoldiers, while the rest of the battle went on behind them. The girl with the spear gave a mocking laugh and then leaped upward, seeming to transform again into a meteor of purple light.

There was nowhere to run. They were back against a blank wall. It was too far to reach the stairs down towards their destination and, besides, Dasco knew that the attackers had probably destroyed the evacuation ship on their way in. As the giant and his two soldiers approached, Jan's face hardened and then, with a sudden motion, he ran forward. “Dasco! Auden! Run!” And swinging his makeshift club, he tried to attack the giant.

Dasco started to move—though whether he was going to run away or run to his friend's aid, he wasn't sure himself—but before he could move a step, one of the flying soldiers had swooped down behind him, pinioning his arms behind him.

“Who are you who dares to attack Blue Cedric?” bellowed the giant and before Jan could even get in striking distance, the man had leaped forward and with one slap had laid the boy out on the ground. For an instant, Dasco thought-- and then he realized that Jan was only stunned.

Blue Cedric lifted him bodily from the ground. “Now, whelp, prepare to scream. I will--”

“Do not forget our orders,” interrupted the soldier who held Dasco. “These are to be captured alive and unharmed.”

“He must pay for his presumption.”

“We have our orders and we live by them. Irk you though it may, even you have no authority to counter the orders of Bain the Unblinking.”

Blue Cedric growled. Then he stepped forward and, still holding Jan as if he were some kind of doll, he scooped up Auden with his other arm. In a few steps, he was across the terrace and at the meeting room. The soldier who held Dasco moved to join him.

“Bind them and make sure they do not leave,” ordered the giant. “I have better things to do than play nursemaid for the bleary-eyed one.”

It was only a work of a minute for the winged soldier to shackle the three boys with a length of fine chain. Jan was still too stunned to resist, and neither Dasco nor Auden were able to do anything against the superior size of the soldier. A few moments later, they were alone in the meeting room. The chain didn't prevent them from moving around, though a little awkwardly, but they couldn't leave the room. And Dasco thought the soldier had taken up a station outside the room, but he couldn't see for sure.

“Are you all right, Jan?” he asked.

Jan finally pulled himself up to a sitting position. “Does it matter?” he asked bitterly. The side of his face was red and bruised and there was a trickle of blood from where he had been nicked by just the edge of the giant's hand covering. It probably hurt, but at least it wasn't a serious injury. “Does it matter?” he repeated, moving gingerly towards the window and looking down over the city.

 

The rest of the day was a nightmare. Dasco wished they had been imprisoned anywhere else. Being able to see what was going on was terrible and yet it was impossible not to watch. From almost the beginning, he knew what the outcome of the battle would be. At first, he thought they might have just a slight chance, but with the enemy launching a second attack from behind, catching the defenders in a pincer movement and also knocking out most of the powerful weapons located around the capital area, there really was no chance. Besides, there were just too many of the Draxmoorians and they were too well-trained and well-armed for the soldiers of Cosin-34 to even stand a chance. And then, scattered among the soldiers of Draxmoor were some unusually powerful agents—like Blue Cedric and the girl with the purple spear. Dasco wasn't sure if they were mutants or simply other species, but they were powerful enough to turn the balance in favor of the invaders, even if the forces had been evenly matched to begin with. After the first thirty minutes or so, it really wasn't right to even call it a battle. It was a massacre.

And yet still, Dasco watched and strained his eyes in hopes of seeing one figure among the conflict, even though part of him didn't want to see it. He knew somewhere out there his father was fighting, probably in the hottest part of the battle. But they were too far away for him to clearly identify any individual soldier anyway.

He wondered if the Draxmoorians had struck elsewhere on the planet. Cosin-34 was sparsely populated and a majority of the inhabitants lived in the capital and its environs. There were a few other smaller settlements, but none of them would be able to put up even token resistance to an invasion like this.

By afternoon, the battle was over; it had ended just as it was always inevitable it would end. A few scattered shots would suddenly break out somewhere as one individual soldier or another made one last hopeless stand, but it was not enough to disrupt the feeling of completion.

Jan was laying on the floor. Though he wouldn't admit it, he still seemed in pain from the giant's attack. And Auden hadn't moved or spoken since they were captured. But Dasco kept looking, though now more out of fear than hope. If his father was still alive and uncaptured, he would've still been fighting. There was no way he would stand by and watch the city be ransacked.

Though the word 'ransacked' seemed wrong to describe what was going on. The battle had been chaotic, as war always will be no matter how fought or by whom—but the aftermath was handled with a degree of precision and planning which made it seem more like an act of business than an act of war. There was something almost uncanny about how methodical and orderly it all was. It was like watching a cyclone marching in step. Wholesale destruction should never be that well-ordered.

Dasco tensed slightly as he realized a change had come over the enemy army. Something was happening. In the courtyard almost directly below the meeting room, a group was assembling. In the center was a tall, middle-aged man in golden armor. Based on the way the other soldiers acted around him, Dasco assumed this must be someone very important—probably the leader of the strike force. It was close enough that he could see all the details well, but he couldn't hear anything. They were talking—perhaps this was a sort of official meeting to declare victory. And then he realized the soldiers were dragging something into the middle of the courtyard.

He bit his lip as he recognized the limp form of Jan and Auden's father. He was clearly quite dead. Dasco realized after a moment that they had all the elders there and they were all dead; apparently they had been killed during the battle. He honestly had never thought they would have put up that much of a fight. But knowing Draxmoor's policy towards traitors it was probably better for them that they had fallen in war and were not alive to be taken as captives back to the imperial capital.

But why in the cosmos had they bothered to gather up the corpses of their enemy? And why bring them out now?

Dasco continued to gaze out the window for a minute and then, with an abrupt movement, he turned around and slid unto the floor beside Jan. “I think we should pray.”

“Isn't it a little late for that?” But Jan seemed to regret the bitterness of his words immediately, and with a strange look pulled himself up into a sitting position. Auden moved slightly to stare at Dasco but didn't say anything.

Dasco didn't dare let himself stop and think. He bowed his head and began to pray. But his throat was dry and his words came without passion or even coherence. It wasn't really a prayer at all. For the moment, his brain was pulsing too much with other thoughts even to think about his words. He just knew he had to keep Jan and Auden occupied for a few minutes. He couldn't risk their looking out the window. They didn't need to see what he had just seen. Maybe it was wrong to use prayer as an excuse to that end, but it was the only thing that had come to his mind.

And besides, they certainly needed prayer right then.

But they were interrupted before they could pray for very long. The door to the meeting room was thrown open and they looked up to see one of the winged soldiers standing in the doorway. Dasco thought it was the same one who had initially imprisoned them there, but since the man's helmet covered the top half of his face, it was hard to identify him. “On your feet, pups,” he ordered. His voice and manner were without passion and spoke more of an official determination than any private rancor.

Dasco scrambled to his feet. He was biting his lip so hard that he thought it was going to bleed. He refused to show fear to his captor, but he felt as if he were going to vomit. He had seen what the Draxmoorians had done to the dead, and he could only quaver when he considered what they would do to the living.

For just a moment, he thought Jan might try to resist the order, but, apparently, the boy realized the futility of such a course, and—rather unwilling—he also got his feet and then paused to give Auden a hand up.

The next moment, the three boys had been led out of the meeting room. They were still chained and couldn't have made a run for it if they had wanted to it. But there was nowhere to run. On every hand, things were the same. Everywhere they looked, there were the same scenes of bloodshed and destruction. Everyone they could see was either an enemy, a captive, or a corpse.

Dasco could barely believe that it had been a matter of hours before when he had hurried to the meeting room through the quiet of the morning. It was almost impossible to imagine that this place through which they now moved was the same city which had slept calmly under the morning chill.

And yet, in the midst of all the devastation, Dasco was still amazed at the efficiency and discipline of the enemy. The foot soldiers, acting almost in synchronization, were dismantling and carrying away everything of value in the city. A few smaller groups, who seemed to be of some specialized division, were busy constructing some kind of large engine, the purpose of which Dasco couldn't even imagine. The winged soldiers, meanwhile, were managing the captives, herding them in neat, orderly lines.

Dasco now noticed that among both the foot soldiers and the winged soldiers, there were some men who stood apart. They wore plain robes rather than armor (though some still were armed) and all carried tablets. He assumed they must be scribes or recorders and were in charge of keeping track of what was going on. They moved among the captives, examining them and make notations. They looked almost like teachers taking attendance. Under other circumstances, Dasco might have thought it almost comical. But at the moment there was nothing of laughter left in the boy's soul. Besides, he had a pretty good idea of what they were doing. They were determining the value of their captives.

Their captor led the three boys alongside one of the lines of captives. As they passed, Dasco gave a slight intake of breath. He recognized one of the men in the line as his father's second-in-command in the army. As they passed, the man kept his eyes fixed on the ground but he spoke in a low, almost inaudible voice. “Dasco, cry if you must, but do it with your head held high. Your father died as he lived—with his heart unshaken and his gun to his shoulder.” And then they passed on and the man was lost.

Someday, Dasco would be able to take pride in knowing that his father had stood strong to the end. Someday, he would take comfort in the mere fact of knowing for sure what happened to him—when so many on that day would never know what happened to their loved ones. But at the moment, he was just a boy, alone in the world, who had lost all the family he had. He would have cried, but he refused to give the enemy that satisfaction. Anyway, he was not truly alone. Not yet. Jan and Auden would need him to keep his head—if only they kept the three together. Dasco wasn't sure he could bear it to be completely alone. Assuming he was even going to live long enough for that matter.

Most of the captives seemed to be being led to the transport ships, which would probably now serve as prison ships. Others—were they being driven straight into the ocean? Dasco looked away—if that was true, he didn't want to see.

But the winged soldier pulled them aside from the others and brought them to a strange machine that was parked just outside the capital. It was a small, round platform with a railing, like the top of a tower, but with some kind of anti-grav motor. Two foot soldiers were guarding it and both saluted as their captor approached. “Are these the prisoners of Bain the Unblinking?” asked one of them.

“Yes. Deliver them safely or it shall be your life for theirs.”

“Of course.”

Once the boys were safely on board, one of the soldiers touched a control, and the platform shot upward, away from the gravity of Cosin-34 and into the pale green sky. As they rose, Dasco gave one glance backward down at his home, knowing that this would probably be the last time he would ever set foot on it. Then he looked up. There in the sky was hanging a ship which he had not noticed before. It was a smaller, more streamlined ship than the bulky transports. Dasco noted the weapon turrets along its spine and assumed it must be a warship. Not that with this invasion, anything of that nature had been needed. Cosin-34 had few spaceships of any kind, and certainly none that could put up a real fight.

The flying platform attached itself to the underbelly of the ship and the boys found themselves inside the enemy ship. It was strangely neat and clean, having an almost austere and sterile appearance. From the inside, it looked more like an office building than a warship.

Inside the ship, they were passed to another guard who led them through the ship's corridors and into a small room. Once inside, he detached the chain that bound them and coiled it up. And then, without comment, he turned around and left.

Dasco glanced around the room. It didn't look exactly like a cell though it wasn't a very comfortable or welcoming place. There were three bunks built into the bare metal walls and a squat metal table with three stools, all built straight into the floor. Besides this, there was no furniture or decorations. The only other break was a transparent window set into one wall, through which they could see, indistinct and distant, the green surface of Cosin-34.

Dasco walked to the window and stared out for a moment. They were too far away to see the planet clearly. This was only the second time he had ever been off the surface of Cosin-34—he had never had any interest in space travel and it was something of a luxury for the Cosinites anyway. But now here he was, staring down from an enemy spaceship and the odds were that this would be the last time that he would see it.

He clenched his fists, forcing himself to remain stoic. He didn't dare let himself break down; he'd be better off not thinking too hard about things. The others were going to need him to stay strong. He turned from the window. Auden had sat down at the table and sat there with the same vacant expression that he had worn all day. It was as if he were almost unconscious while still awake. Jan had sat down on the bench and was staring into space with a brooding expression.

Dasco moved slowly and sat down next to him. He knew that he'd better tell him. He spoke in a low voice so that Auden wouldn't hear them. “Your father was killed in the battle. I saw him and the other elders from the meeting room.” That was as much as he needed to know.

Jan's expression didn't change but his shoulders slumped just slightly. “May God have mercy on his soul.”

For a moment they sat there, neither speaking. Dasco wondered if Jan was thinking about the morning. Dasco could be thankful for that at least—that he had parted from his father on good terms. In that sense, he had no regrets. He glanced over at Jan and realized that his expression had somehow become more concentrated. He was staring fixedly at Auden.

“I wonder if I could force myself to do it--” He spoke in an almost inaudible voice, more to himself than Dasco.

“Do what?”

“Kill Auden.”

“What?” Dasco forced himself to keep his voice quiet, but the shock and surprise showed in his tone.

Jan turned on him with a face that was strangely twisted. “Don't be a fool, Dasco. Don't you understand? They kept us separate for some reason. All those people killed. All those other captives, probably being carted off to the slave market. But they kept us alive and separate. What's special about us? Your father was an officer in the government and ours was an elder. That has to be why.”

Dasco really hadn't been able to put any reason to the strange treatment. But he couldn't deny that there was logic to Jan's theory. And if he was right, then--

“You know Draxmoor's reputation when it comes to traitors. If any of the elders had survived, they would have taken them back to the imperial capital to be made a public example. And so they must want us in lieu of that.”

“I—suppose that could be it.”

Jan locked eyes with him. “I'd like to think that you and I are brave enough to face whatever they do to us—but Auden's just a little kid.”

“I can hear you, you know,” said Auden in a cold, quiet voice, not moving his head. “And do you really think that's the right way to solve this? Are you just giving up?”

“You don't understand--” Jan began, but with no sharpness in his voice.

“I understand.” Auden turned around on his stool and stood up. His face was hard and his eyes were bright as if glowing with unshed tears. “I saw what happened—when Dasco was trying to get us to close our eyes.”

Dasco swallowed. He should have suspected that Auden would see through his ruse.

Jan shook his head. “Wait, what? What did you see?”

“They were mutilating the bodies—father's—and the other elders'--”

“What?” For the instant, puzzlement pushed horror out of Jan's attitude. “Why would they bother doing that to someone who was already dead?”

Dasco had wondered the same thing, but he had been trying not to think about it.

“Because of what Draxmoorians believe about the soul.”

“Oh, of course. I'd forgotten.”

“Forgotten what?”

Jan leaned back. “In Draxmoorian thought, the soul is tied to the body for a few hours after death, and so if you subject a recently dead body to torture then in some way that tortures the soul.”

As Jan said it, Dasco vaguely remembered having learned that at some point. At least that was the one thing didn't have to worry about. Wherever the souls of the elders were, they were out of Draxmoor's power.

Auden walked slowly and deliberately so that he stood in front of the other two. “I saw what they did to father's body—what they would have done to him if he had still been alive—and maybe what they're going to do to us. And I can't say I'm not scared. But—but—we made a promise. Remember?”

Dasco and Jan exchanged glances. That morning seemed almost like another lifetime. Could it really have just been twelve hours before?

“The promise.” Jan's voice sounded bitter. “That we would live like that song. 'It has been a wonderful day.' Is that what you mean?”

“No, the promise was that we would try to live this day for Him, no matter what that means.”

“No matter what,” repeated Jan. “I don't think any of us knew what that meant this morning.”

“No. Nobody ever knows.” Auden spoke calmly and with a sense of seriousness that made him seem older. “And we still don't know what it will mean. But is that still our promise? To live for Him—to trust Him—even here? Even if the face of whatever they're going to do to us? Because,” he drew himself up and took a deep breath, “that is my promise.” He laid his hand on his brother's knee.

Jan shook his head. “It seems too late. What does it mean to dedicate your life to God when your life is over? But—yes—that is also my promise. Whatever happens; even if it's something more terrible even than we can yet imagine—and I think we can all imagine something terrible now. It is my promise.” He laid his hand down on top of Auden's.

“'All day love I've been with Jesus.'” Dasco repeated the words in a quiet voice. “Even in the midst of a day like this. It's strange to think of it like that. Everything about today seems so far away from Him. As if we had more to do with Hell than Heaven today. But still—we could live with Him.” He laid his hand down on top of Jan's. “So that is also my promise—to keep on living for Him; no matter what tomorrow holds, I want to live all day with Jesus.”

They remained that way for a moment. Each one was lost in their own thoughts and, perhaps, their own prayers. And then the door opened, bringing their attention back to the present as they looked up to see another figure enter the room. But this wasn't just another one of the Draxmoorians.

This was a monster.

To be continued...