Free Forging Zero by Sara King Page A

said, “When it’s green like that, that’s the special stuff.  You ever heard
of Popeye, Mag?”
    Maggie’s
eyes lit up.  “Popeye eats fish food?”
    Joe
couldn’t have been more relieved.  “Yeah.  Loves it.  It’s just concentrated
spinach.  Makes you grow big and strong.  So can I have your fish food, Mag?” 
He said the last and held his breath, knowing that everything was going to
hinge on Maggie’s answer.
    Teary-eyed,
Maggie glanced at him, then to her bowl, then back at him.  Her little brow
furrowed.  “You don’t need any more,” she said, pulling her bowl away from
him.  “You’re big enough.”
    “So you
wanna give it to Elf, instead?” Joe demanded.
    Maggie
frowned at Elf, who grinned back at her.  Possessively, she pulled the bowl
away from Elf, too.  “It’s mine,” Maggie said.  She stuck a tiny finger into
the slime and sampled it.  Immediately, she wrinkled her nose.  “Tastes bad,”
she muttered.
    “That’s
all the good stuff they put in it,” Joe said quickly.  “For the guppies.”
    “And
Popeye?” Maggie asked.
    “And
Popeye,” Joe agreed.
    Maggie
gave the green goo an uncertain look, and for a moment, Joe thought she would
shove it away again.  Then, tears still glistening on her cheeks, she took a
deep breath, visibly steadied herself, and proceeded to eat everything in her
bowl.  “I guess it’s not so bad,” she said, when she finished.  Then she
glanced down at herself.  “I think I’m getting bigger already!” she cried,
holding up her arm for Joe.
    Monk
snorted, but Joe obligingly pinched Maggie’s bicep between thumb and
forefinger.  “What do you think, Scott?” he demanded, giving the little girl’s
arm a squeeze.  “Show him your Popeye muscle, Mag.”
    Maggie
flexed, looking up at Scott expectantly.  Over her head, Joe shot him a warning
glance.
    Dimples
looking like they were about to burst, Scott managed, “Soon you’ll be picking
fights like a pro, Maggie.”
    “I
don’t like to fight,” Maggie said, deflating.
    “Then
you’re in the wrong place, stupid,” Monk said.  “We’re gonna be soldiers. ”
    Looking
at her excited face, Joe doubted Monk knew what a soldier was.  None of them
did.  Because they were kids and they should be playing jacks and
chasing butterflies and building tree-forts, not trapped on an alien ship,
learning about war.
    Once
again, as one of the only ones in the whole room who truly understood what the
aliens had in store for them, Joe felt the weight of responsibility suffocating
him.
      As
his five groundmates argued the merits of soldiering, Joe suddenly felt
ancient—an old man in a room full of children.  This wasn’t fair.  They were
just kids .  He wanted to run up to someone who would listen and scream
at them that this wasn’t supposed to happen to kids .
    A few
minutes later, everyone’s heads snapped around when Commander Tril suddenly
shouted, “Now you’ve eaten, get out!  Head back to the gym!  Run!”
    Joe
snatched up Maggie and they ran.  Back in Battlemaster Nebil’s care, they
joined the exhausted, sweaty-faced losers for three hours of physical exercise. 
By the time Nebil was finished with them and sent them back to their barracks
room, the entire platoon looked like zombies, and everyone was too tired to
cry.
     
     

 
    CHAPTER 5:
Early Balding
     
    “You
should have let me kill him.”
    The
officers’ hall fell silent at his words.  Everyone had taken off the hated
translation devices and had been engaged in the first real Ooreiki conversation
they’d managed to enjoy since the choosing process began.  Now they waited,
every sudah fluttering in silent anticipation of Kihgl’s next words.
    Very
slowly, Kihgl put down his meal and wiped his mouth.  “Kill who, Commander
Tril?” he asked, taking entirely too long to look up at him.  Almost as if he
were bored.
    Tril
scowled at his superior.  Kihgl was a soot-loving furg.  The bureaucrats