Pvt. Slater J. Tross, No. 305

September 11th, 2030, 10:21 pm

"Imagine thinking Bentley's is the best fast food place in the Empire," Mai muses. "That's such a Queen's-centric thing to say. Unimo is hands-down the best. It's not even a contest."

I gasp, followed by a brief laugh. "What? You can't be serious. If Unimo is so good, how come I've never even heard of it?"

"There's only one in all of Queen's City, and it's in Frayton. All the rest are in Ciella; it's an Etolunia-based company."

I collapse back onto the bed, where my back is barricaded by two solid ridges. I flop my hands over the other side, reaching for the floor. Upside down, I see Max White close his eyes right as I match with them. I wave to him, but he does not respond.

"Max," I taunt, "I saw that you're awake. You're not fooling anyone."

He grumbles. "Well, I wish I was asleep."

"What do you think, Max? Bentley's or Unimo?" I inquire as my blood rushes to my head. A pool forms over my eyes.

"I don't really care. No preference." He twirls in his sheets so I meet his back. I pick myself up to face Mai again. My eyes flush dry.

CJ pulls his legs toward him when my posture adjusts. He peers over the pages of his current novel at me. "You've got a lot of energy for ten-thirty at night. You didn't have hardly as much when we were doing hand-to-hand combat today."

"Search his footlocker," Mai suggests with a grin. "He could be on something that we don't know about."

"Bro, you have weed?" CJ says over our tone as if the walls aren't thin. I tense at his volume and slap his knee, which he follows with a snicker.

Mai hits his upright knee, too. "Weed makes you drowsy, idiot. We literally learned about drugs and drug crimes last week, and I know for a fact you weren't paying attention."

CJ folds his book over on his bed beside him. "For your information, I was paying attention during the seminar. Weed also makes you be more paranoid, hallucinate, shit like that. I say Slater is high as shit and he never told us he was lighting up."

"I'm not fucking high," I declare, surrounded by a crowd of laughs. "I don't think I've ever been high in my life. You guys are all a bunch of goofs."

I gaze up at big Ed Callahan on Wyatt's bed. The size comparison between the two is comical if there was any one way to put it. Ed hauling himself up to the top bunk to play cards with Wyatt was a ten-minute sight to see.

Wyatt rolls up his short sleeve to expose his limber shoulder. His face contorts, even before Ed winds up and lays a stiff punch on his bicep. He hollers upon impact as Ed falls back in laughter. Punch blackjack.

"Ed, you seem like a wise guy," I call to him. "Do you prefer Bentley's fast food to Unimo's fast food or are you not as smart as I think you are?"

Ed smiles, shuffling the cards in his hand. "Bentley's is the shit. Can't be beaten."

"Boom!" I shout softly at Mai. "See I told you. Not a single person here knows what Unimo is."

"Well excuse me if I don't like greasy burgers and half-assed milkshakes," Mai says, rolling her eyes. "Unimo uses actual chicken in their sandwiches. Bentley's chicken fingers are so undercooked and pasty that it probably isn't even chicken at all."

Ed leans over the railing of Wyatt's bed. "Yeah, well, I don't give a fuck what's in those chicken fingers because they're so damn delicious."

Mai palms Ed's face and pushes him back on the bunk bed. "Go back to your cards."

"I'll give you this one, Mai," CJ chimes from behind his book, "Unimo is superior."

"Thank you!" She exclaims. "Now that is an informed opinion."

I glare at CJ, who uses the pages as a shield. "Come on, dude, seriously? I thought we were friends."

The door to the bunkroom opens inward and Craig enters, tugging the ends of a white towel around the back of his neck. His hair lays flat on his head, darkened by moisture. He walks to his bed on the other side of the room and slides socks onto his feet.

"If you ask me," Wyatt adds, "I think fast food is disgusting. I'd rather have a home-cooked meal over some shitty burger." Ed twists to him, and Wyatt drives his fist into his enormous arm. Ed doesn't so much as flinch.

"Nobody asked," growls Max behind me.

Craig approaches our congregation from his own bed. "Hey guys, we should head to bed soon; we have to be up early tomorrow." He turns to me and gestures to the door. "The officers upstairs want to talk to you, Slater. They told me to escort you."

I hesitate to stand. "Wait, before I go: Craig, which is better, Bentley's or Unimo?"

"Bentley's, I don't know. I don't even know what the hell Unimo is. Let's go." He waves for me to follow as he starts for the door.

I press off CJ's bed and proceed past Mai to tag along with Craig. I stick my tongue out at her, and she shakes her head.

We enter the hallway and Craig takes a right toward the mess hall. I stop in front of the bunkroom, watching him continue down the corridor.

"Dude, it's this way," I suggest, pointing to the left. "That's the long way around, but, okay, I guess." I pick up my feet and pace toward him. "Why this way?"

The mess hall lights flicker on upon our entry to the space. The last time I was escorted to the cafeteria in the middle of the night, CJ exposed his strife with Luke Bradley, whose existence I have almost completely forgotten. The M carved into his skin was still fresh, bandaged only that morning. That was also the night I found out why Sergeant Lee doesn't like me and never will.

Some things have changed, some haven't.

Craig sits on a table under the eagle symbol on the ceiling. He pats the surface with his hand, and I take a seat beside him. He says nothing while he reaches for the band of his shorts.

I stare at his hand movements and my own fingers become clammy. "Uh, Craig, what are you-"

He reveals a tall bottle of clear liquid from his pants. He unscrews the already-tampered cap and takes a swig. One hand finds his face as the other holds the bottle.

"How did you smuggle that in here?" I watch the hallway, ensuring that no superior officer catches us.

He extends his left arm to me, suspending the bottle between us. Without any words, I take the glass container from him and sip. The liquid is bitter, stale almost. I cough, covering my mouth with my mark. Craig grins and repossesses his liquor, tightening the lid and setting the bottle down on the table.

I wipe my mouth and look at him. "So, what, you just brought me out here to poison me? What's going on?"

"No, I just wanted to talk to you," he confesses, locking his hands together and kicking his feet up on the seat below. "I brought this from home when I came up on Sunday. Been hiding it under my pillow since. Nasty, isn't it?"

"Oh yeah, it's wonderful," I contend. "Is everything okay?"

He falls back on the table and stares at the eagle. His hands stay locked and meet behind his head. "Things could be better, I guess. This week has been moving by so quickly and when we wake up tomorrow we'll only have one day left. Then it's Friday and we'll be going up against the beast. The beast that we know nothing about."

We, not including me, of course.

"I mean, what if we are spread out from each other and something happens? What if we have been underestimating the beast this whole time and it sucks us up into its other dimension or whatever? We would never see each other again. I just hope we're all assigned together so wild shit like that doesn't happen." He pauses and glances at me. "You know what I saying?"

"Even if we are separated, I would try my best to keep us all together. They have no reason to assign us to different locations. Strength in numbers."

"Exactly, that's what I'm hoping for." Craig grabs the alcohol and pulls himself to my level. "I would rather have you nearby when shit goes down."

Two weeks ago, Craig Larsson sharing a bottle of liquor with me was unthought of. He tried to kill me during the combat tournament and harassed me once I was ranked. Then, through some miracle, he decided to change his act and become Hal and I's friend. It also helped that I earned enough of his trust to learn something about him that no one else knows. It's as if he never wanted me dead and we've been friends this whole time.

We stand two days away from the battle of our lifetimes and he says he wants to fight alongside me. If this was the outcome of all that agonizing friction early in our Imperial Guard journey, I don't know if I would trade it for anything else. That antagonism was just what we needed to be here as allies.

"Can I ask you something?" Craig takes a two-second chug and hands the alcohol to me. "You never actually told me what happened Friday night. You said on Sunday that we made-out at the club and I spent the night at your house but I seriously remember none of that. Was I really that blasted?"

I swish the liquid in the bottle with no desire to consume it. The taste of the first sip was enough to leave a stain on my tongue. "Yeah, dude, you were pretty trashed. Lee had you taking hits before we even got into the club." I settle the bottle onto the table, distancing myself from it. "But that's not it. The reason you don't remember anything is because you weren't in control. Someone else was in possession of you. Someone from the Medo."

"I don't understand," he mutters. "Why? Why would they take control of me? Did anything come out of it?"

"If I knew the answer, Craig, I would tell you. Why they would possess you, I have no idea."

I had nothing to do with this, for the record. That was all Roarke and Nicolette.

Craig attempts to hide a laugh from me. "I can't believe we kissed and I wasn't even there to see it. I'm sorry if it was awkward."

"There wasn't much that was awkward about it, despite the fact that we were right next to CJ and Mai when we first made-out. I'm sure they were over there scratching their heads. But when we went back to Manchesters' house we fell asleep next to each other. That wasn't awkward at all."

"Okay, good. I'm glad I didn't make an ass of myself when I was being mind-controlled." He takes the bottle again and fountains a shot into his mouth. He swallows and releases his chest. His head flutters and he makes a noise of disgust. "So, what? You talk about kissing me like you're used to it or something. You used to play baseball so I assumed that you were straight. I guess I was dead wrong."

I shrug. "I don't know what I am; I don't have a term for it. When you asked to kiss me I just went for it because I wanted to."

"Uh-huh," he mocks, "I think you're forgetting about us sleeping next to each other. What's your excuse for then?"

"You got me there." I steal the bottle and down a shot of my own. The awful taste knocks back on my doorstep and my eyes start to water. I slam the glass onto the table and I am taken aback when it doesn't shatter.

He seals the lid on the bottle and stops to grin. He glances at me to share the expression under his nose. "If I didn't know any better, I would think you like me."

"I thought I did," I admit, looking away from him. I cannot stand to see his attitude alter on his face. "But I'm worried that if we did get together, there would be more problems than we already have."

"Like what," he mumbles.

I turn back to him. His smile has vanished. "If the Imperial Guard finds out we're seeing each other, they'll kick us out, plain and simple. Also," I consider my words, pressing my tongue on the inside of my lip. "I'm afraid that the Medo will take advantage of our relationship and hurt you in order to get to me. I can't let that happen."

He stitches a straight face but nods. "That's understandable. I appreciate that."

"I'm sorry, Craig. I wish things were different."

My conversation with the Manchesters did not change how I feel about Craig, but what I had to do about my feelings. It's difficult to tell someone you like that you can't be with them because of circumstances out of your control. It must be hard for him to comprehend my side of this, but it's essential to both of our safeties.

Craig cracks open the liquor again and holds it between us. His hand gripped around the front tells me that it's his for the time being. He takes a deep breath, preparing his stomach for another lug.

Before he can attempt to drink any more, he looks in my direction. "Thank you for actually being a respectable person. You know, this whole time, I thought I was going to hate you because of what happened over the summer but it turns out you're an awesome guy and a great friend." His finger dances around the rim of the bottle. "I drove home last night and told my parents about me being gay. I was worried they would kill me on the spot but they were just confused and disappointed instead. They'll get over it eventually."

"What made you do that? You were so adamant about it being a secret."

"Because of you," he insists. "Not our relationship but because you're such a bold person who isn't afraid of anything. I said that if you can march up to those offices and tell General Hamilton about the beast, I can tell my parents that I'm gay."

My face struggles to veil a proud smile. "Wow, Craig. I have no idea what to say."

"Nothing. But if I could ask one more favor," he inquires, raising the bottle. "I want you to stand beside me and help me lead. With your knowledge and my leadership, we can take this thing down and make sure everyone is safe. Please, Slater."

"I don't know how I could say no to that."

He nods, the liquor still in the air between us. "To safety and liberation." He tilts the bottle back and chokes down a shot. He huffs and passes the alcohol to me.

I raise the bottle high over our heads. The eagle imprint glares down onto me and it's eyes glitter, the same eagle that glows on my chest. "To victory."