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“The Triumvirate has lost their minds.”

“You know that there’s a war going on. And we’re the losing side. Our chances of winning, or even surviving, get lower every day. We need all the people we can get to fight and know how to fight.”

“I understand that, but using children? Little kids? That just can’t be! It’s the most monstrous idea–”

“It’s the most brilliant idea we’ve ever come up with. Think of it! What better army could we have? Millions of pilots, trained from childhood for their mission – how could we lose? We’d beat the buggers to a pulp!”

“…I can’t believe you actually agreed to this. These are kids. Kids do not understand war – they shouldn’t understand it! They don’t know how it feels to fight in a war – there’s no way they could cope with the pressure, the horrors, the nightmares…”

“They’ll have to face it sooner or later. Better sooner.”

“This new training program – taking them away from their parents before they’re ready, teaching them how to fight, to kill – it’s destroy them!”

“It’s been done before. And we’re doing it now. Get used to it. You’ll have to, especially since you’ve been assigned to teach the first group of kids.”

“I… you’re kidding me!”

“No, I assure you I’m not. Your job is to recruit the best and brightest group of children you can find, send them up to the new Battle School, and be their ‘mom’ for the first year or two.”

“I’d rather–”

“That’s an order. …Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it soon. It’s all for our own good.”

“…Tell that to the world.”

 

“Miriya! It’s dinnertime! Come and eat!”

Miriya Inoue ignored her mother’s calling and concentrated on the holographic screen in front of her. She was at a crucial point – a few small points of light in a formation, one starship and four fighters, against several other scattered little points of light, outnumbering the fighters three or four to one. She quickly whispered commands through a small headset microphone and her formation scattered, shooting into the enemy mass. Sometimes she switched views and maneuvered with the starship or a fighter, and ultimately tried to get the fighters close enough to the mass to blow it all to pieces.

Almost there, she thought. Getting closer… closer… Ready–

“Miriya!!”

“Hai!!” Miriya’s head snapped away from the screen, just when she was about to give the command to fire.

Her mother looked at her sternly. “It’s dinnertime! Can you eat something, so I can worry less about you and make sure your sister gets her bottle? Please stop that game! You can finish it later, no?”

“Yes, but–” Miriya looked back at the game, and was shocked. “Wha– aw, shoot!” All of her ships were destroyed, just in those few seconds. “Gee…” she mumbled as her mother whisked off to another room with a bottle of milk. Miriya joined her father at the dinner table, and she could hear her baby sister, Kai, crying in the other room, then settle down as her mother fed her with the bottle.

Miriya’s mom and dad, a computer analyst and a tactician, respectively, worked at the I.F. base in Honolulu, just a few miles away, and were literally run off their feet due to the war, but still managed to come home everyday and spend time with her and take care of little Kai, and be able to do things like have a normal family dinner.

Her mother soon reappeared, cradling Kai and sitting down at the table. Miriya frowned. “Mama, you made me lose! I was so close – I almost won!” she moaned.

Her mother smiled. “Oh, you and that game… You should remember that it’s just a game – it’s perfectly fine to lose once in a while!”

“Not if it’s against the buggers…” Miriya whispered. Against the buggers, winning and losing matter. You lose, you die. Simple as that.

Miriya always felt different from other kids because of thoughts like that. She was only five years old, but unlike other kids her age, who usually cared about nothing but new toys, recess, and going to the beach, she spent her time focused in class, doing her homework, playing strategy games, and paying close attention to the news and to the reports that came in from the I.F. bases. Through the news and the base reports, she knew what was going on in the bugger war, and what a bad spot the I.F. was in. There were always reports of battles lost, buggers attacking droves of ships and leaving no survivors, entire I.F. fleets wiped out – Earth was losing, fast, and if the governments and the I.F. didn’t do something soon, well… the end wouldn’t be so nice.

Miriya soon finished her dinner and went to the living room. Her father was already there, just staring at the vid screen with no expression. “Another bad day?” she asked. It was an understatement. Every day, now, was insane.

“Another battle lost,” he said in a monotone, mostly to himself, “One of our worst blows ever. Three thousand dead.”

Miriya blinked. “I didn’t know that. And I check the news reports every day. It should have been there! All those poor people…” She was shocked at that.

“They decided to sit on it till this evening. The Hegemon is going to make another announcement tonight.”

Miriya sighed. Another announcement. Another one of the Hegemon’s useless pep talks. He usually made them at least once a year, but now, with the war as bad as it was, he was talking every other week or more. The speeches were all full of lies, broken promises, false claims, and more and more oppressing rules. Just last week, the Hegemon announced new population laws – only two children to each family – and caused uproar of world-sized proportions. Miriya chuckled at the thought that, a week later, the hegemony might still be getting viral e-mails and picketing crowds and other things of that sort. But still, she couldn’t imagine having another brother or sister yet. Her parents had enough trouble with just two kids, and Kai was a handful all by herself, and would still be, especially in a few years.

A few minutes later, the seal of the hegemony appeared on the screen and faded away, showing the Hegemon sitting at his desk.

“Good evening, people of Earth,” he began, taking a deep breath. Miriya mentally smirked. He always began his talks like that, and she thought it made him sound like a crusty old king in the ancient fairy tales.

“…As all of you know, our war with the buggers is not going well. Every day, our chances grow slimmer and slimmer. Even today, with over three thousand dead, our chances of surviving drop. There may well be a time, sooner or later, when we all will realize that we have, indeed, lost. …I believe most of you are expecting me to give you another promise or consolation…”

Here it comes… Miriya felt like leaving the room. She didn’t think she’d stand another empty promise or threat.

“…however this announcement I will make tonight, unlike the others, I believe will truly bring you all rays of hope…”

Miriya sat up abruptly and stared at the screen, listening intently. What is this, she wondered. Have they actually come up with something? Or is this another stupid trick?

“We have in the works, now, a brand-new facility for training pilots and commanders of I.F. fleets – code named “Battle School.”

Miriya frowned. Now that’s something new. But what’s the use for a ‘battle school’ if the I.F. people already learn how to fight somewhere else? What are these people planning? As these thoughts turned over in her head, she didn’t notice her parents looking horrified. They started whispering things she couldn’t make out. Ignoring them, Miriya listened closely to what else the Hegemon had to say.

“This Battle School will put into action our newest training method – teaching future I.F. pilots and commanders from the very beginning–”

“Miriya,” her mother said, “It’s time to go to bed. It’s late.” Her voice had a bit of an edge to it.

Miriya frowned again. “But Mama, I want to listen to this! It’s important!”

“No,” her father replied, “It’s very late, and you have school tomorrow.” He took her hand and pulled her to her bedroom.

“But Daddy, it’s important! I have to know what’s going on!” Miriya was furious. There was crucial news to be heard and thought about! Something was actually going to be done about the war! Didn’t they know that!? As she was led away, she could still hear snippets of the Hegemon’s announcement.

“ …will be recruiting gifted children…ages of five to thirteen…trained for…projected time of six years…”

“What going to happen now?” she asked softly, as her father put her to bed.

“Don’t worry about it,” he murmured, tucking her in. “It doesn’t concern you, so don’t worry about it.” He sounded a bit agitated, as if he was trying not to worry about it himself. “Just get some sleep. It’ll blow over in the morning.”

Miriya nodded slowly, and her father kissed her on the cheek. “Good night, Miriya-chan.”

“Good night…” She saw the door close, leaving a crack of light beyond it. She heard her parents talking and turned over, trying to eavesdrop. They sounded troubled. Very troubled. She could hear her mother pacing around frantically, and from the way Kai was whimpering, her mother was so nervous that she didn’t notice how hard she was squeezing.

“Why did they announce it? Why!? I thought the idea was thrown out!”

“I don’t know. They knew lots of people were against it – both our whole departments voted against it – and they decide to authorize it anyway?

“This is stupid – those stupid people in the hegemony! They don’t care about all of us – they just want to get this stupid war over with fast – even at our children’s expense. They can’t do this!”

Miriya continued to listen, puzzled.

“We can’t do anything about it now. The order has been passed, and the selections will begin tomorrow.”

“That may be, but no matter what happens, they aren’t going to take her! I won’t let them!”

“But–”

“I don’t care if she’s bright or brilliant, or anything! As long as they stay away from her! If they want to take her away they’ll have to deal with me first!”

“Please–please calm down. You’re scaring Kai. You’re even squeezing her till she’s blue!”

Miriya turned away and settled down. What was going on? She had never heard her mother speak that way, almost threatening. Whatever’s going on, it has something to do with “Battle School.” From what they said, it’s not a good thing…

It has something to do with kids, the Hegemon said. Five to thirteen – that includes me. But what is Mama so scared about? What does the government want with me? I know I’m smart, but I’m not that smart…

Miriya snuggled against her pillow and tried to go to sleep. Whatever’s going on, I intend to find out!

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