Capt. Brian W. Manchester, No. 002

5 September 2030

13:11 QCT

A faint breath of air sweeps across the serene waters of Lanela Creek. The awning of acuate leaves a few meters above my head pulsate in the modest draft and make the rich green grass around the checkered cloth dim to evergreen. Compact and verdant shrubs create a fence surrounding the tiny mead I have occupied on the shore. The swaying of the leaves and procession of the stream is the only discord that rattles the amity.

I have been perched by the edge of the brook for nearly ten minutes without any kind of clamor. This area of the creekside park is undiscovered, as far as I'm concerned, and has only been witnessed by one other person besides myself. The shaded grass beneath the elm tree is nurtured with the vacancy of neglectful humans. When I relax on this water bank, I do not intend to leave my mark. I give the stream my respect, and in turn, it gives me peace of mind.

I could certainly use some of that tranquility after what has occurred within recent weeks. I can picture myself, sprawled on the splintered boards of the stage as the malady of agony radiates throughout my body. I forced myself to stay conscious, though the exertion was taxing on my spirit and persistence. In my efforts, I had to look on as Slater stared at me with a fearful tremor. That is before James withdrew him from the scene.

Settling here on this locale on the water, I'm able to say that my shoulder is feeling much better. The extent of my injuries wasn't as severe as everyone initially thought. The healing process was rather swift, and I was advised to wear a wrap around my scapula, shoulder blade, and down my arm, covering my right breast. I wasn't given permission to drive my car, so I asked Levi to take me to HQ if Gill was adamant about my presence. That was about my maximum retribution.

"Hey, you."

I rotate in my spot and grin upon seeing the divine woman who has invaded the private getaway. She has her hair tethered back, hidden behind her slender neck. Her lemon-colored sundress catches a soft current as she approaches my red and white quilt on the grass. In her possession is a hand-woven basket, sealed closed with latches on the sides.

"I was starting to wonder if you forgot, Keira." I fabricate, observing her as she takes a seat beside me. "That dress looks great on you."

"Why, thank you." She reaches for the nape of my neck and strokes her hand down the center of my back. A twinge of pain diffuses throughout my shoulder as she declines, but I mask it the best I can. "I like your outfit, too; it's quite casual. You should dress like that more often."

It's a simple style prevalent from my days in Ciella, in my youth. This trend vanished for about two decades before appearing once again a few years after my exodus from the hole. I am wearing a thin, white, short-sleeved button-up shirt. Two of the top buttons are unfastened, revealing the worn dog tags that torment me at the sight. The shirt is tucked below beige dress pants that fall to my ankles. It's a relief to hear that someone else thinks my outfit is fashionable, because it is comfortable too, especially on a day like this.

A smile grows on my face, propelling my convulsing right hand toward the picnic basket. "Thank you, I'm glad you like it." My fingers twitch at the metal latches, but my gaze has not shifted from her blissful posture. "I haven't seen you since the ceremony; how have you been?"

The chestnut glow of her eyes dims to the back of her head. She stares out to the rolling water. "The last time I saw you, you were in a hospital bed. You have some guts, asking me how I've been. I'm here now, aren't I? That means I'm fine."

It appears that a nerve has been infringed upon, somehow. "And I'm fine, too. I am nearly fully healed. It's like a miracle." I straighten out my back with the damaged shoulder blade forgoing any advance. My shuddering fingers dance over the delicate skin of her hand, rested between us. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong."

My fingers find the valleys in her hand. "Keira, please don't lie to me. You know you can talk to me."

Loose strands of her hair sway in the calm breeze. "So, Levi and James have seen you since the ceremony, and I have to wait until now to see you. All I got was a brief call."

"It's not like that, Keira. It was just circumstances that we never crossed paths. Levi drove me to HQ the other day and I only saw James last night. He invited us over for dinner. You know, no one would stop you if you dropped by."

"Who is "us?" Celestine?"

"And Slater."

She unclips the picnic basket with her unoccupied hand and lifts the lid. She unveils two wrapped sandwiches, accompanied by a pair of sleek apples. "Oh, right. Hopefully, James didn't come off as too imposing."

Lieutenant Keira Hill, though clearly stubborn at times, is a magnificent woman in all regards. It has been a half-decade since we first made acquaintance. Just as the scenario was with James, we should have never met. Our contact arose by mere chance. But the incidents passed, and here we are now, lying along a riverbank, sharing lunch.

My hands are curled around the copper railing, holding my cheeks against its frozen surface. My entire body shivers beneath two layers of coats, fifty feet over the icy waters of the western ocean. The rubber soles of my boots itch to slip off the bridge and tumble to the abyss below. A light powdering of snow twirls onto my face, drenched with tears.

Everything is gone. My life has been consumed by absolute darkness, once and for all.

"Hello?" The voice of a woman shatters the veil of hopelessness. "Are you all right?"

My teeth crush against each other. "Leave me alone."

"It's okay. I'm not here to hurt you or anything. Just please don't do it. We can talk about this."

I am aware that this rendezvous to Lanela Creek gives off the impression that Keira and I are in a relationship of sorts. The truth is, we have never exceeded beyond the boundaries of friends, and there are three reasons for that. First and foremost, there is an Imperial Guard policy restricting any romance to occur between officers, so that rules out that possibility. A violation of that rule would result in suspension or expulsion from the Imperial Guard. Neither of us can afford that consequence.

I believe that my life has been cursed from the moment I signed on to the Empire's military, three decades past. I have lost so many people that I loved through circumstances that were not so far out of my reach. To put Keira into that situation would be imprudent of me, and I could never place that risk onto her. Her explanation, the one that is the most rational, is that us falling in love could ruin our friendship and interactions in the Imperial Guard. And thus, we have never questioned our relationship.

Beyond the mystery behind our affiliation, Keira leads her own life of marvel and brilliance. She was named the Sergeant of Class 11, one year succeeding Labelle's Insurgence, by an extensive margin. She was, and still is, skilled in three forms of martial arts, and can speak three languages. After the events that occurred in 2010, citizens were desperate yet skeptical of the new class coming in, as they should have been. But Sergeant Hill proved that there was nothing to fear from her and her peers.

Keira takes a bite from the wedge of her sandwich. "We haven't heard from the Medo in a few days. Do you think they've eased up?"

I scratch over the abraded cloth on the skin of my shoulder. I can sense the bandages stretching and tearing, but that is nothing a quick wrap cannot repair. A rooted irritation ripples through the muscles of my back. Attempting to evade the discomfort, I survey Keira and her intense, honey eyes. A couple of untamed hairs breach the view of her face. I search for the strength to suppress a smile at her observation and force a head shake instead.

But none of those rules or restrictions can oblige me into thinking that Keira Hill is not beautiful. I have never encountered a person who seemed so celestial with their every movement. There are sometimes that I look at her and I cannot believe that she is real. Under all that allure, there is a woman with unimaginable vitality and power. It is incomprehensible on how otherworldly she is to me.

Maybe... I do love her. A little bit.

"Brian? Did you hear me?" Her voice of silk draws me from whatever kind of trance I just found myself in. Her free hand finds the ridges on the rear of my neck before reaching the beaded silver chain that we share. "Are you okay? You seemed distant."

I grin, folding my hands together. "Sorry, I was just thinking."

"About what?" Her fingers lace around the chain and lightly twirl.

"Ah, it's nothing," I mislead. "The Medo certainly hasn't gone anywhere. They're calming down for now, but this lull seems suspicious. They could be planning something and it's likely we won't find out what it is until it hits us square in the face."

Keira sighs, releasing my dog tags and motioning toward her sandwich. "It's concerning. If only we knew more about them than their call sign, we could predict and protect. But we have nothing, except," she pauses. Her eyes meet mine. "Well, we have Slater. Does he really know nothing?"

"Yeah, he's in the dark. It's a shame." My healthy hand pounces on an apple, and I grip it in my palm. I squeeze it in my grasp, exposing my wrist bones. "No offense, Keira, but I would rather not talk about the Medo now. They're, well, troubling."

She twiddles with her own Imperial Guard tags and seals her lips. "Oh, sorry, I forgot. Let's talk about something else, then." After another bite of her sandwich, she begins again. "How is Celeste doing?"

I nod, chewing a piece the crimson apple. "She's doing fine. Much better than last week. I think now she realizes that I'm going to be okay and she has stopped worrying. But I don't blame her for being scared."

"Yeah, especially after everything that's happened to you guys. She was in rough shape at the hospital. How about Slater? I assume he showed up after I left."

The outburst at James' house last night hinted at regression in terms of overcoming the Medo's embrace. If it was up to me, I would eradicate them from the Empire to not only give me peace of mind but for the sake of those who are taunted by their constant threats and violence. Danny MacTavish and his exclamation at the dinner table stirred up a monster in Slater. Dare say I was too powerless to hearten him when he stormed out of the house. Mentions of that abominable population freeze me to my spot, and I find it impossible to move. In my silence, James rose from his seat and took the initiative to speak to my kid. Only a few words have been said between us since then.

Everything about that boy perplexes me. Celeste informed me that he suddenly fled the scene at the ceremony following his capture from James. Nobody knows where he ran off to, and he hasn't mentioned the incident to anyone. His current strife with the Medo irritates him to no end, and I can see the concern in the way he shields himself from us, the ones who, we assume, he trusts most. I don't condemn him for being so worried about the situation, but there must come a time when the truth will be revealed. He must understand the dilemma that this issue may be much bigger than himself.

My strained shoulder aches so I rise to sit up straight. I twirl the apple in my hand. "He's in a tough spot. The world's against him but he's doing the best he can to stay upright. No matter what he does, someone is always going to be there to screw it up." I snap off a piece of the fruit, observing a squirrel as it bounds over the mead. "The night before the ceremony, he got into a fight with Levi's kid, Craig, their Sergeant. The kid won't leave him alone. He can't catch a break with anyone."

She stifles a stiff chuckle in her throat, fiddling with the strap of her dress over her collarbone. "You just reminded me of something interesting that I learned."

My head cranes to her, examining the stagnant expression riddled on her face. "It's not about the Medo, is it?"

"No, but it is about someone I know." Our gazes adhere as a smirk sketches over her lips. "It happened at the gala Tuesday night. They got a little too comfortable and carried away when they met a certain someone."

I retrieve my vision from her and stare out at the brook once again. The only movement that I permit myself to give is a slight flutter of the head. I breathe out as the dying flame in my chest rekindles. The blaze spreads to my forehead and drains life from my cheeks.

I set my jaw as the breeze picks up around us. "How did you find out about that?"

"James has a big mouth. Then again, you do, too, telling him and Levi about it. I assume it's a guy thing, bragging about every time you have sex."

"I wasn't bragging, Keira. I told them about what happened that night and that's it. You're making it sound as if I was being malicious. I told them to keep what I said to secrecy, and if they can't keep a fucking secret," I pause to collect. I groan, smearing my palm over my cheek and chin. "Fuck."

I deplore to admit that I did, in fact, sleep with Nicolette Binet the night before the Imperial Guard ceremony. But following the events that occurred only several hours later, it's difficult to reminisce on the act itself. I extract the before and after from memory but the in between is distorted.

She discovered a disc toward the bottom of the collection and placed it gently onto the record player besides me. With a flip of her short, blonde hair, she climbed onto my lap, pressing her body against mine. Her cherry-red lips encounter the edges of my mouth prior to the sensation of her hands reaching for my belt.

Before I knew it, I was lying in the bed made for a prince. With the ashen-gray sheets up to the bottom of my bare ribs, I inspected the room, attempting to make any sort of sense of my location. My Imperial Guard uniform sat in a heap between the couches and the bed I occupied. I recall the beckoning sunrise over the eastern ocean horizon peering through the immense window behind me. Golden hues illuminated my face, nearly blinding. And, in my shielding from the light, my eyes turn to the exposed back of a woman with hair like that of the sunrise in the distance.

In that moment of cognizance, I was aware of the matter that Nicolette and I had sex. It took some deduction but I remember bits and pieces of it. It was as if one thing led to another and we were in bed together.

Then came the point where I had to rescue James from the aberration of the ballroom past midnight, where the casual partygoers run along home and the remaining guests drink their hearts out. James, who retains an alcohol problem as is, required some assistance as if I was in any better shape. He sobered up in an hour or two, one of his many talents, and I spilled the news about Nicolette and I.

I never planned on Keira knowing what happened that night. I assume I should know better than to entrust James with anything secretive.

"I hardly remember any of it," I affirm. My patchy hands find a smooth, elliptical stone beside the picnic cloth. "I don't even know if I can remember what she looks like. In a group of five blonde women, I probably couldn't pick her out. I was pretty fucked up."

Keira scoffs. "Right."

"Do you think I'm lying?" I inquire with a snap. "After everything that happened at the ceremony, I recollect nothing. I only knew enough to tell James and Levi at the time, and they should've never told you, too." I toss the pebble along the swirling waves. "Besides, so what if I did? You seem upset about it."

"I don't like her at all. She seems stuck-up and entitled to me. Gets what she wants and eliminates anyone that stands in her way." She adjusts her legs, folding them under herself. "It's the same for the whole family. You could do better."

"You think it gets much better than the richest woman in the Empire? You know, there's much more to her than what you think. She's probably the best one in her family."

"Not when we saw her on the terrace. She was kind of a bitch, and you know it."

I shoot her a wry grin. "You know what I think, Keira?"

"What's that?"

"You sound jealous."

Her eyes curl back in her head. "Yeah, fucking right. I wouldn't sleep with you if you were the last man in the Empire."

Something sinks in my chest, but I mask the recoil from traveling to my face. "Yeah, you say that now-"

The knuckles of her hand connect with my broken shoulder, erupting a slight twinge through the right side of my body. In my self-comfort, she grumbles. "Shut up. You know what I mean. I'm not jealous of Nicolette. So, are you two going to get together again or was it just a one-time thing?"

"I'm not sure. She said that sleeping around is part of the elitist "culture," and I believe Imperial Guard officers are excluded from that. But hey, anything could happen."

"The correct answer is no, Brian. You shouldn't catch feelings for a woman you had a one-night stand with. If anything, she'll use you as someone to fuck, and that's it. She'll take advantage of you."

I straighten out my legs, with my shoes collapsing into the grass past the edge of the cloth. "Is there something wrong with that?"

"You're a sleaze, Brian. I never thought I would have to say it, but that's what you are."

"And I've never been called one. Thank you. I will be sure to live up to the name."

I collapse onto my crooked back, staring up at the talon-shaped leaves. The weak gusts from the Lanela's flow allow the green brush to shudder. Streaks of the deep blue beyond are beholden through the branches as they sway. Our refuge has become cooler than before Keira arrived; it has reached the point of slight goosebumps sprouting on my arms.

"Look, Keira, think what you want about me because of what happened with Nicolette. I'm sorry that I let things like that out of hand at the party. But none of that changes me or what I think about you." My hand paws away from the gnawed apple as my eyes seal shut. "I could have lived a million lifetimes, but I was lucky enough to live in the one with you."

A delicate pressure stitches to the right side of my body, and I remove my obscurity from my sight. A pleasant hand traces overtop the buttons on my top, grazing over the decades-old, worn dog tags beneath. Her tied-up, black hair falls onto my arm as her head rests on my shoulder. Keira's lips sketch out a real yet heavenly grin as her eyes follow mine.

Her touch is warm over my chest as if my dog tags can glow, too. "Brian, no matter what I say, I love everything about you. There isn't another man out there that can treat me the way you do. What we have makes me wish I wasn't in the Imperial Guard so I could kiss you right now."

My occupied hand finds her waist, right above her hip bone. I gift her with a grin. "Well, as a superior officer, I propose that the law is rescinded for about ten minutes. What do you say?"

"You are definitely taking this whole "sleaze" thing seriously, aren't you?"

I avert my gaze to the bank of Lanela Creek, clear water rolling by without a care in the world, much like myself at the moment. I draw her closer into my chest by my attached grip. "Of course I am. But like I said before, Keira, nothing has changed. I still love you."