The Chariot of Elijah

Part 1: Silent Struggle

The past few years have seen a gradual increase in violence as people struggle to cope with the loss of control over their lives and with each other. It was impossible to avoid. The ship-wide newsfeeds displayed on various monitors throughout the ship, The Chariot News, were filled with murder and mayhem in several wards, as well as updates on the war-torn state of Earth. This was not the first time for many on the ship, but no one could ever forget how it felt to be trapped here for what seemed like centuries.

Ali had hoped the worst was behind them when they finally escaped the Chariot of Elijah, or The Chariot as it's commonly known, only to find themselves in a warzone on that particular planet. Now they were back aboard, stuck in an endless loop of misery and grief. His only hope was that they could make things better somehow before they died. He prayed his children would grow up in a world where their children wouldn't suffer like his did.

Ali and his wife, Aisha, were in one of the large cargo sections of the ship, which was usually used to transport and store food and supplies. It was now home to hundreds of refugees from the violence in the wards, like them when their ward's violence increased over time, and for the overflow population from other stops before their final retreat from Earth. Most of them were young men and women—the very ones who should be out there fighting the war to end this nightmare. But instead, they'd ended up here, cowering, hiding, and given themselves to the Republic.

Ali and Aisha were both old enough to remember when the ship launched on its journey three decades ago. They were among the first passengers to board. It was supposed to be a peaceful voyage, a chance for everyone to escape the conflict plaguing their dying Earth. They were excited about their future together. So, they decided to make the most of it and start their family, even if they never saw Earth.

They had six children between them: two sons and four daughters, all mostly grown now. Their oldest son, Aqil, was just a baby when the ship made its maiden departure from Earth. He was twenty-four now and had left his family behind to fight for the rebels. His sister, Samira, twenty-one, volunteered to work at the medical center behind the front lines, hoping she might save some lives. Their second son, Shamir, was nineteen and enrolled at the Republic University in Moon's Orbit. Their next daughter, Zaina, was fifteen and worked in the ship's kitchen, doing whatever odd jobs she could find. Their two youngest girls, Jamila and Yara, were fourteen, identical twins who wanted to join the military but couldn't yet because they were underage. They spent most of their time in the wards, often getting into trouble.

Zaina was the only one who stayed with Ali and Aisha most of the time. She was always a good girl.

She made her way from her cot and joined them as they watched the large monitor on the nearest wall. She looked at her mother and said, "Mom, let's go back."

Aisha looked puzzled. "Zaina, what do you mean?"

Zaina pulled her hood tighter and lowered her head. Even though it was dark, Ali could tell she was crying. He hated seeing his daughter upset. He wanted to comfort her, but he knew if he did, he'd lose the argument.

"It's not too late," she whispered. "We can still get off this ship."

Ali looked at Aisha, who put her hand on Zaina's shoulder. "We need to stay here until it's safe," he finally said, "but not yet. And Zaina, you can't talk to your brother and sister anymore. Do you understand that? You can't contact them. And until we're sure it's safe, they can't contact you either."

Zaina looked at her father, then nodded. Ali felt terrible lying to her. Her brother was risking his life to help them, but he knew she didn't understand why he was doing it.

He hugged her tightly. "We're going to make it home, okay?"

She hugged him back, and he held her tightly as tears streamed down his face, too.