It had all began on a sunny day not two weeks ago, Drake remembered. Here on Antiga Prime, a backwater world under the Terran Confederacy, not much happened every day. Farmers got up early every morning, and worked until late at night. Most were very poor, and barely had enough money to keep their farming equipment in a decent state of repair. Drake's family was no different. Born to a small, impoverished family on the outskirts of Antiga Prime's capital city, life had always been hard for him. And for a long time, Drake had been fine. The fact that his family was always desperately poor never bothered him, and he constantly accepted the reality that his family would never own this, or that he would never get to own one of these. He wore hand-me-down clothing from his older brother, and had been working in the fields since he was fourteen, four years ago. Even with all four members of his family farming, there was barely any money to spare for luxuries like new clothes.
Life was pretty mundane for Drake and his family most of his life. The same routine every day, up in the morning, eat breakfast, out in the fields till lunch – there was no time for Drake to go to school – and, after lunch, back in the fields again until dinner. After dinner, the family would often spend an hour or two reading from old history books about what life on Earth was like, or try to pick up a late-night radio show on their short-wave transmitter.
Drake still remembered the first time his father had let him operate the mechanical plow. At the time, Drake had felt like he was on top of the world. Of course, the feeling of exhilaration wore of relatively quickly, but Drake was always rather fond of memories like that. He also remembered the first time he'd step inside the family's shabby Space Construction Vehicle. Hardly any families owned one of these useful machines, and Drake's family had been fortunate enough to find it in moderate disrepair on their property after they had purchased it. After some quick mechanical work, they had it functioning well enough to help clear out new land to plow.
Of course, things could only stay this way for so long. Two weeks earlier, a large platoon of Confederacy Marines had taken up residence in Antiga Prime, in response to the uprising of a rebel faction, the Sons of Korhal. Seeing the Confederacy troops gave Drake a sense of pride in his Confederate heritage that he had not known existed. He became obsessed with the desire to join the proud Confederate Armed Forces. So obsessed, in fact, that he began to get distracted from his farming tasks. His distraction escalated to the point where, after a week, he began making elementary mistakes in the handling of the plowing machinery that he had been using for years. His father noticed these mistakes, and, worrying that Drake was going to injure somebody the next time he made a mistake, forbade Drake from operating the plowing machinery until he could focus on his work.
Drake was upset with his father's decision to revoke his equipment privileges, as he had been using the plowing equipment for seven years. However, he was respectful of his father's wishes and refrained from using the plowing equipment when he worked. This just gave him more time to fantasize about joining the Confederacy. It got to the point where his father asked him why he was constantly daydreaming and slacking off.
"I've just got... stuff on my mind," Drake replied.
"What kind of stuff?" his father inquired?
"Oh, you know, just thinking about the Sons of Korhal and all of that war stuff."
"Well, I don't want you to worry about that, son. What I want you to worry about is keeping this family fed. Can you do that for me?" His father asked.
"Yes, father, I can. I promise to stop thinking about all of that war business and focus more on farming." Of course, Drake could not just stop thinking about "all of that war business." It all meant too much to him now, and he was constantly tuning into the local news stations on their short-wave for any news on the war. He was fully determined now to become one of the Confederate Marines, and he knew that he wasn't going to let his parents stop him.
He decided to bring the issue up at dinner one night. "Dad," he said. "I heard that the Confederates are accepting new recruits down at the City Hall."
"Yeah… so?" His father grunted, in-between bites of Ursadon steak. "What does that have to do with us?"
"Well, dad… I was thinking… I was thinking that maybe I would enlist."
"WHAT!" his father roared, spewing food across the table. "What the Hell are you talking about, son!"
Trying to keep as cool and collected as possible, Drake replied, "I said, I was thinking that I would enlist with the Confederate Marines." He took a deep breath, because he could tell by the look in his father's eyes what was going to happen next.
"Well, son, you'd better think again. Not a damned way in Hell my boy's enlisting in the Army! Not when we already have enough of a difficult time feeding this family!"
Drake stuttered out a response, suddenly unsure of himself. "Bu.. But dad.. I tho-.. thought I would.."
"Thought you would what, son! Thought you would what? Enlist in the pretty little Confederacy Army, go through your cute little Boot Camp, and then get yourself killed fighting God knows who's war! Not if I have anything to do with it, Drake. I am your father, and I forbid you to enlist in the Confederate Army."
"But, dad! I would get paid, and I could send home money every month! It would make it better for you guys, and-"
"That's enough, Drake, you heard your father," his mother intervened.
"Mom, please! Life would become so much easier for us if you let m-"
"Your father said no, and his word is final. You're not enlisting." With that, his mother got up from the table and began clearing the dishes and putting away all of the leftover food. Drake, furious at his parent's lack of foresight, stormed off to his room and boiled.
Later on, his brother came in to try to talk to him. "Hey, bro!" he said as he cracked the door. "Mind if I come in?" James was twenty-three, five years older than Drake, and much stronger. He was usually the one who used the Space Construction Vehicle, helping their father to clear out new areas to plow and to harvest valuable resources for sale in the city.
"Sure, I guess so," Drake replied glumly. He stared at his brother distractedly, thoughts buzzing in and out of his head like bees in a beehive.
"Hey, what's up with you, man?" James inquired. "I've never seen you act like that before. Maybe it's just me, but I'm used to you being really relaxed and respectful. Why do you want to join the army, anyways? I've heard really bad things about them."
"You don't understand, James, and neither do mom and dad. I could make something of myself in the Confederacy. I could be someone. And, through me, you could live the way you deserve to live. I'd make sure you would get anything you'd need, and I'd always be sending fresh checks home. Out there is a world of possibilities, but there's nothing for me here. Nothing but these same fields for the rest of my life."
James, obviously shocked and taken aback by Drake's outburst, took a minute to organize his thoughts. "Hey, bro, calm down. What's so bad about these fields, anyways? They get us by, and they always have. Sure, we may not be rich, and we may never get rich, but we have more than most families do, and we have each other. I don't think you can really ask for more than that."
"But that's where you're wrong, James. There's so much more to ask for in life. There's endless possibilities out there, and all you have to do to achieve them is reach out and grab them. I tried to reach out, just back there at dinner, but dad cut my hand off before I even got close."
"I don't really understand your thinking here, Drake, because I know that I'm grateful for what we have. If you're not happy with it, I'm sorry, but I hope you'll be calm enough to get out and work tomorrow. Things have slowed down since you stopped operating the plow, you know. We could really use you out there, bro. Good night," James said as he got up to leave.
"Night, James," Drake replied dejectedly.
And that was how Drake had come to be in his present situation. Several days of uninteresting toil had passed since that night, and Drake had tried several more times to discuss the issue with his father, but each time the answer was the same. Drake was fed up with his parents, and, sitting in the dark in his room, he had finally decided that their answer was no longer good enough. It had been several hours since the rest of the family had gone to sleep, but Drake hadn't been able to get any rest. He had spent the late hours of the night debating with himself, and his mind was finally made up. Getting up silently and padding over to his small closet, he grabbed a duffel bag and began stuffing it with clothes. After he had packed all the clothes that he thought he would need, he grabbed his toothbrush and several other toiletries. Finally, he put on his best jacket and his working boots. Gathering all of his belongings together, he turned towards the door, and stepped out into the night.
Quickly getting his bearings under the bright Antigan moons, Drake set off towards the tall, hulking shadows in the distance to the East. He knew that there were only several hours left until dawn, and he knew that he had to make it to the city by then if he wanted to enlist before his family caught up. Breaking into a quick trot, Drake gripped his duffel bag even more tightly.
Slowly, the lone figure made his way further and further away from the small plot of land that had been his entire world up to this point in his life. He had no idea how much this one small decision would affect the his own life, and the Terran civilization.