Author : Michael Holt
“This gives a whole new meaning to the term peep show don’t you think?” said, Trayden.
“Mr. Rice while we enjoy your humor you really must get your rest, we have some more tests for you tomorrow.” said the intercom above the doorway.
“I really need to get out of here is what I need to do.” Trayden said.
Trayden picked up his chair and hurled it at the window. The window transmuted like a bubble blown through a wand, the chair acting as wind. The window retreated to its original shape leaving the chair in splinters on the floor.
“There is no reason to try to escape Mr. Rice; you may leave at any time.” said, the intercom.
“This isn’t what I signed up for!” yelled, Trayden.
“Mr. Rice, on your eighteenth birthday you signed an intergalactic draft, voluntarily stating that in your galaxy’s time of need you would gladly step up to defend it. If you choose to go back on your word we will provide you with transport to the planet of Gitash, strip you of your rations and planetary identification to live out your days in exile.”
“I know what I signed up for you fu-.”
“Mr. Rice there is no need for profanity, please lay down, the men in white will be in shortly to settle you down. Try to get some rest.”
Defeated by his failed escape Trayden laid on his bed, waiting for the men in white, planning another escape and wondering if the war he was forced to fight in was a war worth fighting for.