August 25th, 2030, 9:36 am

"I'm here, guys!" I take a deep breath, scanning the eleven pairs of eyes I encounter as I turn the corner to the bunk room. "I'm here." I see the other nine kids I met last night and tiptoe toward the perimeter of them.

Sergeant Lee shakes his wrist and inspects the watch that hides in his sleeve. "Six minutes late. We weren't waiting for you. Pick up what you missed from one of your classmates later."

I set my alarm for six thirty this morning. I heard it ring, and I turned it off. I must have never gotten out of bed because, at seven fifteen, the Captain knocked on my door and asked me if I was ready to go. I was still asleep. He told me I had ten minutes to be in his car, ready to leave, or he was going to the headquarters without me.

I take my place next to CJ, whose nose crinkles. "Dude, you reek."

Mai, planted in front of me, swivels around. "Ew, yeah."

I shrug at both of them, as well as the few other kids that turn to me with a twisted face. "Sorry. If I had time to get a shower, I would have been even later."

"Hey, enough." Lee snaps his fingers at the front of the crowd. "You've already caused enough distractions as is."

The bunkroom seems so much larger now than it was during the ranking. Instead of there being sixty-something beds all crammed into one space, there are only five bunk-beds all near the door. Don't they have a special living place for the top ten of a class besides this dump? Probably not, considering the conditions of the rooms and hallways themselves are shit, too. Those in the offices have it pretty nice.

All of my new friends are in the room, on time. Hal is located closest to the Sergeant, alongside a wide-set recruit, who I believe is Edmund Callahan. I wonder how he and his family took to being ranked second in the class. He certainly wasn't pleased with himself yesterday, but I think his parents were still proud of him anyway. Same goes for the Colonel. If my kid ranked in the top ten or, hell, at all, I would be proud of them. Something tells me that Hal is the type to be hard on himself when he shouldn't be.

Craig Larsson is on the outskirts of the mass with his arms crossed. He attempts to appear as if he is listening to Lee give directions, but I know better. Every so often, he'll sneak a look at me through the corner of his eye. I don't know what the hell he wants from me. Whatever issue we had back at the ranking is over, and he needs to understand that. I'm not going to put up with his shit for the rest of my Imperial Guard career. He can't be an asshole forever. At least, I hope not.

Dalia is to the right of CJ, and she donates her whole attention to the speaker. I thought a lot about what the Captain told me last night, how I can't date anyone from the Imperial Guard. I think that rule is total bullshit. Sure, there is an element of professionalism that we are supposed to embody, but I could make a relationship work with someone. But that's not what I want to permanently see Dalia Biron as. I want to see her as a friend, someone I can lean on. There is so much more to her than what meets the eye.

"Now that everyone is here," Lee stops in the middle of his sentence. He looks at me with snake eyes. "You can formally introduce yourselves to your classmates. So go ahead, start walking around, strike up a conversation with someone. Try to talk to someone you haven't met before."

As we disperse, CJ leans into me. "Someone shit in his cereal this morning." I suppress a laugh, keeping his statement between the foot separating us.

The tiny kid, Wyatt, I think, maneuvers around a couple of kids from the other side of the group. He wears a smile and a baseball cap over his chestnut brown hair. "Damn, CJ's right, Slater; you smell like ass. I could smell you from over there."

I yawn, watching him adjust his cap. "Funny guy. I can't believe I haven't seen you since, like, the first day. It's been so long."

He lifts his short-sleeved shirt to rub his shoulder. "Yeah, tell me about it. You didn't turn out too bad, huh?" He nudges me with his elbow, which is right at where my ribs separate from each other. "Hey, listen, I was telling the other guys before you got here; being in the Imperial Guard has its perks. You know, we can go into any twenty-one and over club in Queen's. There's one near me in Woodrow that I've gotten into and we all have to go. Sometime after the ceremony, though."

I snicker. "Who let you into a twenty-one and over club? They probably got fired."

"Ha, funny guy," Wyatt mimics with a different tone and a grin. He pivots in the other direction, waving. "I'm kidding, you're pretty cool. I'll catch you later, dude."

I haven't looked past the biggest advantage of making it into the top ten of the Imperial Guard, which is survival. Now I realize that there is a greater, more vast world than what the job immediately entails. We're treated like adults, and better yet, as authority, so we can walk into any public place if that's what Wyatt is trying to say. We don't have the power to invade someone's home, I'm sure of it, but everywhere else is our domain. And we aren't even eighteen years old yet.

Maybe joining the Imperial Guard isn't quite as bad as it seems.

I can't wait to go to this club, whenever that might be. There is an eighteen and over club only a few blocks from my house. My friends on the baseball team snuck me in for my seventeenth birthday by replacing the 3 in 2013 with a 2. It was kind of lame since the only thing you can do is listen to the blaring music and flirt with people. I heard that twenty-one and over clubs are sick, though. I wonder if we'll need identification in order to get a drink.

"Hey, Slater," mumbles a soothing female voice behind me. It's the girl who glowed under the stage lights last night; the one who CJ apparently likes. She has a gentle face with captivating obsidian eyes. There is another hue in them that gives them a unique, beautiful feeling. I think CJ would definitely try talking to her if that stupid rule wasn't put in place. "I don't think we've met. I'm Shanelle, or you can call me Shan."

I smile, taking a step near her. "It's nice to meet you, Shan. Where are you from?"

"East Frayton, near the beach." She looks past me, and her eyes follow something or someone. Maybe it's CJ. "So, did you have a favorite test last week? Personally, for me, they all sucked. But hey, we're here now, so something must've gone right."

A favorite test? What in the world? I dreaded every minute of the ranking last week. Of course, I had my victories, but what would it be without the pain and failure? I lost the island run to Craig Larsson. I had to fight one of my closest allies in the combat tournament, and then face my toughest adversary moments later. In the capture the flag game, I had my wrist sprained by a group of assholes who would not leave me alone. But somehow, through it all, I persisted and was ranked.

"I don't have a favorite test." I shrug. I can't leave it at that; I have to sound more interesting. "I didn't love any of the tests because they didn't love me back."

She gives out a short laugh, where her dimples show and her cheekbones rise near her eyes. "That's pretty accurate. Well, I mean, I don't really like to brag, but my favorite was the island run. I had the best time in our class."

Wow, that was her? I had no clue. There was a girl who ran sub-nine in the test but we never knew who it was. I would've never guessed it was her. She must run for sport or something because that is pretty impressive. The best I could do was less than twelve minutes but under nine? Phew.

"Yeah, I heard about you. That was pretty awesome."

Hand claps echo throughout the room before I can add to my comment. I stand on the edge of my toes to see Corporal Porter swaying her hands over the group of recruits. "Alright guys, let's come back. We have a lot to do today and you'll have plenty of time after this is over to talk some more." I think that may be the first time I've heard her voice raise, if at all.

Sergeant Lee clears his throat. "Thanks, Alex." I think that's the Corporal's first name. "Let's go over some rules, and then you guys can go get your uniforms fitted. Exciting stuff." he purses his lips, staring at the floor. He may be reminiscing about this experience last year, and just how much he despised it. I don't blame him.

"As you can see, these quarters are all set up so that you will all live in the same room for your first year, as you are still minors. However, I think it goes without saying that you should respect everybody's privacy, guy or girl. We encourage you to report any kind of misconduct that may occur in these rooms. If you're afraid to be seen as a snitch, I should tell you now that if an officer from higher class discovers that there is someone suspect of a breach of the rule without information from one of you, you will all be written up to Master Sergeant Petry and will all face the same punishment. I hope you all understand that.

"The rules are as follows. Each of you will receive one footlocker, attached to the end of each bed. No one else is authorized to open it except yourself until the unforeseen circumstance in which you die. Speaking of you and your death," Lee twirls around to a cardboard box the size of my hands put together. He picks it up and returns back to us. "I have your dog tags. Send them around as I explain." He hands the box to Hal, nearest him, who dives in immediately.

The box comes to me after a few passes. Mine is right on top, and I unveil it before I give the container to Shan. I hold it out in front of my face and allow the artificial, tube lighting above to reflect off of its four surfaces. Two plates dangle on a beady silver chain, and there are words carved deep into them. I let them sit flat on my palm as I bring them closer so I don't strain myself trying to read what they say.

These are incredible pieces of work, I must say. It's hard to believe that they had to have been made in a little over twelve hours. Maybe they had them premade. I wonder if they made mine last night once they realized that I made it.

Slater John Tross is printed on the front, and succeeding it is 1/19/13 and Queen's City. I flip it over with two fingers to make out the words Class 30 and 305. I'm not entirely sure what the 305 stands for, but I could always ask the Captain when I see him after this. He should know.

The other plate is just as fascinating as the first. Across the silver is the famous bald eagle with its wings spread out. The same one that I saw on the ceiling of the cafeteria on the first day of the ranking, before anything went wrong. The feathers are pressed in meticulous detail, so much so that I'm shocked. Whoever made these really put hard work into them, and it shows from the perfect curves of the letters in my name to the gleaming eyes of the eagle.

Gleaming... blue?

I glance over Shan's shoulder to see if her's is doing the same and it's not Roarke being an asshole. Sure enough, the outline of her name is glowing the same color as mine, and the light is even visible in this room. She looks at me with wide eyes and a raised lips. It's absolutely incredible. How does it do that?

"What you all are holding in your hand is the latest dog tag design from Binet Steel Industries." Lee reaches below the collar of his shirt to pull out his own. "The chain is thinner than its predecessors, making it the lightest model to date. It has all the components of a typical dog tag, including your name, birthdate, home region, and of course, the Queen's City eagle. What makes this design unique is that it glows in the presence of heat. So, since you all are touching them, I assume the light turns on. I'm not so sure how that technology works; it's made by people who are ten times brighter than me."

He stuffs his tags into his button-down and looks back at us. "Here's the deal with the dog tags guys; don't lose them. These are the only ones you will ever get. There is no reason why you should lose them, because we have a rule around here, and it's really simple. Never, ever, take off your dog tags. Not in the shower, not when you go to bed, not ever. The only reason you should ever have them removed is if someone else takes them off of your dead body. That's it. If we find your tags lying around, we'll start planning your memorial service because we'll assume you're dead. Am I clear?"

Never take them off? That doesn't sound too bad. They'll probably rust easily if they're constantly being exposed to water, but it's whatever. I wonder how these spectacles of modern technology will hold against a little bit of H2O. If they can be engineered to glow when you hold them, I'm sure there has to be some kind of waterproofing device.

I draw the chain over my head and let the plates bounce against my gray t-shirt. This is just about as official as it gets. The eagle's eye is dimming. I wonder if that light will ever wear out.

"So there are your tags. Put them on, and don't lose them." Lee orders, putting his hands on his hips. "Now, again, the rules. I'm going to hope that none of you are perverts, so I'll make this point quick. Mind your own business in this room. This goes back to the thing I said earlier about reporting misconduct. Nobody should have to feel uncomfortable in this room; this is a place where you are welcomed as members of the Imperial Guard. You are all equal here. If you are caught stalking another guard, you will be written up.

"You will all wake up at seven o'clock every morning, ready for your daily assignments and classwork. Yes, classwork. This includes research and homework. You can't escape learning." Lee raises his shoulders at us, not seeming too sympathetic. "It's your first-year seminar. You have homework and year-long team building events, so it's much better than a typical class. If you choose to live here and not make the commute, you must be in bed by nine-thirty. What you do outside of class and sleep time is none of my concern, but just know that the Creed of Honor stands wherever you go. Present yourself to the world as if you are shadowing the General."

I mean, the nine of them are doing this figuratively. Me, on the other hand; I'm actually in the General's shadow. The expectations for me are based on him.

"You have a virtually free reign of the premises from this point on. You do not have access to the officer's wing, however. That is still strictly prohibited. If you would like to speak to any higher officer, you have to send a request to the front desk for approval before you may meet. Going upstairs without permission is trespassing and will be dealt with harshly."

A nervous ticking rings out from Lee's wrist. He glances at his watch, and then back at us. "I probably missed a few things, but it never hurts to ask later. If you guys head out to the gathering room where the ranking was last night, the guys from the Dubois family are waiting to get your width or whatever for your uniforms. It won't take very long. After that, come back here and we'll talk about what to do for the ceremony on Wednesday."

Once he concludes his sentence, the mass of kids proceeds toward the door to the bunk room. I follow in their footsteps, with my hand clasped around my tags.

Before I walk out of the quarters, I unravel my fingers to see the Queen's City eagle glowing blue overtop of my name. I give the eagle a kiss, leaving a metallic taste on my lips, and tuck them below the collar of my shirt.

I don't think it'll ever get old.