The Prince and the Punk [EDITING]

Chapter 31

Janice

It's been two weeks since I kissed Slater—two hours since I've done it last. Naturally, we've kept the whole thing on the quiet side, since there's no telling how much trouble we could both get in.

I did tell Nita, who proceeded to treat my life like a soap opera, exclaiming, "I knew it! I knew there was something between you guys. Just looking out for you my ass!"

For this short period of time, things are good. I've adjusted to the unpredictability of the war and survived countless skirmishes. I've more or less resolved the outstanding issues that have plagued me, and for the first time in a while, I feel okay. Not spectacular, but okay.

On Tuesday, my entire platoon and one other are called down to the lobby, where there are rows of chairs set up. Confused and curious, our groups sit in the cheap silver folding chairs, waiting for instruction.

Slater is near the front of the room, deep in animated conversation with General Brooks and another lieutenant.

Nita and I exchange anxious glances.

Finally, General Brooks addresses the crowd.

"Good evening, soldiers," he booms. The fluorescent lights reflect off of the ebony skin atop his shiny bald head, and his expression is neutral, though that military severity is ever-present. "First off, you're all to be highly commended. Your platoons have a higher number of confirmed kills than any other in this base."

A cheer erupts as some of the soldiers proudly celebrate the achievement, high-fiving and chanting about "fucking annihilating those damn martians."

A loud whistle cuts through the air, and everyone falls silent.

"As I was saying," continues the general, "congratulations. However, as many of you surely know, defending Earth's moon has been our final stand in defending Earth itself, and lately, things have been going downhill."

He draws a circle on the whiteboard behind him, labeling it "Earth." He then draws a smaller circle, which he labels "moon," and then larger one he calls "Mars."

Pointing to the "moon," he says, "Our moon revolves around the earth every month, taking approximately 29 days to do so. For several days each month, the moon is on the complete opposite side of the Earth and does not act as a barrier between our planet and Mars. On these days, it is entirely possible for the Zinnan army to head straight to Earth for an invasion. Now, generally when this happens, combat becomes aerial. In two days' time, this will be the case, but we'll be trying something... new."

He points to "Mars" and pauses. "Mars is currently occupied by a large portion of the Zinnan army. It's also undergoing terraforming, a long, advanced, and extremely complex process. At the beginning of this process, there is a window during which the atmosphere of the planet is controlled by a single machine. The Zinnans will be able to breathe, but the new atmosphere will be extremely delicate and rely wholly on that machine. Destroying it would cause the atmosphere to destabilize rapidly and kill any Zinnan without a breathing mask. If we can maintain the element of surprise, we should be able to wipe out nearly all of them. This mission is yours."

A murmur runs through the crowd, and I look out at it, noting how few of us remain. We were double this size when we first arrived at the base.

"Now," General Brooks says, "it should go without saying that you will likely suffer heavy casualties, as you'll be venturing deep into enemy territory. And that's why we've picked the best of you. Our window of opportunity is small and closing rapidly, so you'll be shuttled out tomorrow."

"What?" I exclaim, and I'm not alone. Cries of protest and disbelief ring out, and several people stand up.

"I understand," the general yells, struggling to be heard over the crowd, "that many of you find this unfair! However, it's not something anybody in this room can have an effect on. These are orders from high up."