Slater J. Tross, O.L.C

August 27th, 2030, 3:12 pm

I scan the group over the deck of cards in my hand. CJ, to my right, plucks two cards from his stack and drops them face-down on the pile in the center of us. "Two threes." He studies us, not glancing down at his cards for even a moment. I want to break the silence amongst the rest of the group, but the pile of cards in the middle is quite tall. If I call it, I could either be set back, or he'll be punished. It's a great risk.

I find a single four of hearts in my deck. I deal that to the center. "One four."

"Meadowlands," CJ mutters, bringing his attention back to his deck.

"Fuck! I was going to call it!" Ed Callahan, across the circle, tilts his head back and groans. "Next time, I'll get you."

Hal snickers to himself. As my neighbor in this game, it's his turn now. "Yeah, well, we'll see. Three fives." He flings his last three cards into the middle. His hands are clean.

"Bullshit," Mai says in detest.

Hal leans back against the railing of the bunk bed and crosses his arms. "Go ahead, check it."

She reaches to the center and flips over the last addition. Sure enough, a five of hearts, clubs, and spades all stare back at us losers. She throws her stack of cards onto the gray rickety table, and the rest of us follow. I had six cards left. This is the third time Hal has won already today.

In less than twenty-four hours, the ten of us will officially be members of the Imperial Guard. I don't know if I should be excited or concerned. For one, excited because I'm moving on to the next stage of my life. I'll be surrounded by my closest friends, ones that I have grown to trust during my time here. I'm unsure as to what exactly these assignments entail, but that's all part of the learning process. It'll be fun to get acclimated around here.

At the same time, I have plenty to worry about. Before we began our card game, Craig and Hal were in an argument, and it got heated. So much so that CJ had to restrain Craig while broad-shouldered Ed was the only one who could hold back Hal. Hal landed a right on the Sergeant, bruising his eye the day before the ceremony. In an egotistical fit of rage, Craig ranted about how childish we were all being, and how he was the only mature "adult" in our class. You know, besides the fact that he started this fight in the first place.

Their dispute was about me. Craig blamed the state of the Empire on me. All the murders and crime is an after-effect of my months-long rampage, and it's all my fault. He accused me of killing Major Talbot's wife in cold blood when I don't remember a damn thing. Since he was Talbot's apprentice over the summer, he claims that he watched me murder her in front of his eyes. To which Hal replied by asking why he didn't stop me if he was right there.

Although he was insulting me and my lack of memory, I will admit that Craig was able to keep his cool for a little while longer. They threw derogatory phrases at each other for about three minutes while the rest of us watched in awe. We didn't know what to do until Craig swung at Hal. It took a few seconds, but they were subdued. Shanelle jumped between them and scolded them to their core. After that, Craig writhed out of CJ's control and announced how he wasn't going to take our "childish" mentality any longer. He stormed out of the room, bruised eye and all, and probably went to the infirmary. Of course, after he cried to Sergeant Lee down the hall.

Long story short, Craig and I still aren't on even terms. Nothing in this world is going to make him like me, not even threats. I could save his life and he would still blame for the death of the Major's wife. Look, I'm not denying that I must have done it. I don't remember shit from my time on the run, and if he claims I killed the woman, then I guess I'll take his word for it. But he'll never forgive me for the murder, no matter how apologetic I seem.

But that's just Craig. Everyone else appears to be lackadaisical about the fact that the most dangerous kid in the Empire is now their brother in arms. The way I see it, they're able to understand the simple concept that people can change. I finally have the ability to control myself, and I swear on my life that I won't kill anyone. These are people that I actually care about.

Another thought has been spinning around in my head these past few days, too. It's about Roarke. I haven't heard his voice bounce against the walls of my skull since Saturday when he slipped out. I have been sleeping just fine without any alarming nightmares keeping me awake. The mark of the Medo didn't so much as glow all this time. If the threat was truly gone, Roarke would strip this blemish off of my arm and leave me the hell alone. Something doesn't sit right with me.

Wyatt marches into the Class 30 bunk room with a mound of sealed letters, topped with an orange, sealed envelope. He drops them on the nearest bed and brushes off his hands. "Look, guys, we got mail!"

We stumble off the beds, away from our card game, to inspect what the messenger brought in. There are ten white envelopes, addressed to each one of us from Craig to Max White. The big, sealed one is marked with our class name and region with no sender. My guess is that it's from the Imperial Guard.

I tear open my individual envelope and pull out a golden card with a large Congratulations printed across it in cursive. Upon opening it, I notice that both sides have pen-written notes sprawled on them. I can make out four distinct penmanships, all from a high officer in the Imperial Guard. Even the General himself gave me some words.

Private Tross,

From one OLC recipient to another, I give my sincerest congratulations to you. From what I have been told, you deserve every ounce of that rank you have been given. You are an extraordinary and impressively dynamic young man. Best of luck in your career as an Imperial Guard.

-General G.D. Hamilton

Wow, I don't know if I could receive a higher praise from anyone else. I thought the General would be against using the OLC on me, but I guess not. This is the most powerful man in the Imperial Guard telling me how impressed he is with me, and I can't begin to describe how much this means. He seems like a genuine person. I wonder if the Captain likes him.

Below the General's signature is a note that appears to be slightly longer in length. This message is one of two in the same portion of the page. The other one sits on the right side. The left one, however, is from a man I never met.

Private Tross,

I didn't think this would work. It was a stab in the dark, keeping you alive to see if you could make it, but I believe it surely paid off! I don't know how in the world you were able to put up with Brian's shit. It looks like he must've done something right, though. You are a young man with a potential for greatness, blessed with a purpose if I must. You have the capability to do a lot of good in this world. We need that more than ever.

Your pal, Colonel I.J. MacTavish

It is relieving to hear that so many influential people in the Imperial Guard have faith in me. The more people I have behind me, the better I feel. The more confidently I carry myself. The brighter the outlook I have. Even if their words are only on this card to make me feel better about myself, it's doing the trick.

Smushed in the corner of the page is a diminutive couple of lines, signed by the Lieutenant, who I've also never met. In fact, the only person I know, really, is the Captain.

Private Tross,

Since the Major is rudely declining to sign your card, I will add him to my message whether he likes it or not. We are all so proud of you for this incredible accomplishment and I can't wait to see what amazing qualities you bring to the Imperial Guard. After all, I've been told that you have a glowing personality. Nothing but the best!

-Lieutenant K. Hill & Major L. Talbot

Huh, a glowing personality? I never thought of myself like that. Then again, I'm not the judge of my own disposition. Does the Captain really think that of me?

The Captain greedily took possession of the entire left page of the card. I wonder if he did that on purpose or if his colleagues generously donated a whole page for him to pay tribute. Either way, I take a sigh, mentally and emotionally preparing myself to read the note. The other kids around me are still scanning the messages, so hopefully, they don't look up and see me crying. I'll do my best to hold it together.

Slater,

Or should I say, Private Tross? My God, every time I think about you being ranked I just sit back and realize how crazy life is. You continue to inspire me. You possess a certain strength that I only saw in one other person: your father. And no matter what your mother says, I'm sure that he would be so incredibly proud of you. Not for joining the Imperial Guard, but building yourself back from the depths of hell and now, sitting comfortably at the summit.

I will admit one thing to you. The night of the ranking, I remember sitting out on a terrace at the Castle and calling out to your father when I thought we lost you. That was the most scared I have been in quite a long time. I could not lose you. I made a promise to your father that I would protect you the day I met you again. When your name wasn't called in the top one hundred, I thought you were gone. But you weren't. You prevailed. And now you are here.

Through the good times and the bad, I will always be here for you.

-Brian

I've been thinking a lot about how the Captain has been treating me ever since last night's meeting with my mom. I don't know what he said to her when he told me to get back in the car, but I'm positive that it was nothing friendly. We didn't mention the encounter beyond the ride home. I have a feeling that him talking to my mom without me in the room just made the relations with her worse, or maybe even snapped them entirely.

But you know what? I don't care that I won't see my mom again. She said it herself; I was worthless to her and I ruined her life. According to her, it was the best for the both of us to never speak to each other following the visit. How can you raise a child for seventeen years, showing your strength as a single mother, only to disown him when he comes back to your home a little broken? It wasn't my choice to join the Imperial Guard. Would she rather she see me behind bars, or even dead?

Hal places his personalized letter on his cot and reaches for the large envelope. He pulls the steel nubs inward and opens the folder. He reveals a sheet of paper the length of the envelope. A smile grows on his face as he examines the letter.

"This is from the other four Sergeants in Class 30!" He takes a seat on his bed. "Hello, Queen's City! Congratulations on making it into the Imperial Guard! If you get the chance to come down to Sabul, we should meet up. I can't wait to work with you guys! From Sergeant Victor Guerrero. Guys, come look at this!"

Seven recruits dash toward the Corporal to read what the Sergeants from the other regions sent us in the mail. I am not one of them. I find myself standing still, staring at the floor where the rest of my friends just stood. I grip my letter from the officers between my fingers, but I can feel my grasp becoming feeble.

Maybe I'm not over the fact that I have been estranged. My mother is the only one I have been able to trust in my entire life. Until now, I believe that she was the only one who cared about me. Last night, I recognized her true colors, and that is not the woman I grew up with. My absence made her into a monster. Has she always been like this?

Have I been nothing but a burden to her? When Dad died, she had to double up on her work hours to provide for the both of us. It couldn't have been easy, but we made do up until now. After everything she's done for me, how could I walk away with her tired heart like that? She could have quit once it was just the two of us, but she made a sacrifice. Am I selfish, like she claims I am?

My Imperial Guard card slips out of my hands and drifts against the floor. I slump down on the bed right behind me and streak my fingers through my hair. I'm the one the blame for this. All of it. I'm never seeing my family again because of how conceited and self-absorbed I was. I should have never run from the Guard. I should have let them arrest me back in March.

The corners of my eyes are starting to get hazy. My fingers quiver against the sides of my head as I tuck myself closer to my center. My mom hates me. And it's all my fault.

Something penetrates my external aura, and I shrink farther into myself. I feel no pressure on my body but I can sense a presence. A strong one. "Slater?"

I want nothing more than to be alone right now. I ask for some peace and quiet as I contemplate my shortcomings and my ultimate failure. I am a failure. I don't care if it's my best friend trying to reel me back.

But a feeling inside of me rises to my heart, and I lift my head. CJ is seated at my side with one of his hands behind me. He gazes at me, sullen. "Are you doing okay?"

I inhale, noticing the congregation from the other side of the room migrate toward CJ and I. The last thing I desire is attention, but I lack the energy to tell them to buzz off. They're my friends, too, and they have every right to know just as much as CJ. The seven of them gather in the small space between the two bunk beds; some perched on the top mattress, a couple across from me, and then the rest scattered on their feet.

This is what a real family is like.

"Guys, I don't know what I'm going to do. I got into a fight with my mom last night and she kicked me out of the house. I don't think I'm ever going to see her again." Somehow, I find the power in myself to hold back tears, but the emotion leaves me in segmented breaths instead.

The band of kids that confine me is reserved, exchanging looks. After a few painful moments, Wyatt gives his head an easy shake. "I'm sorry, Slater."

I clasp my hands over my knees and stare at my card with the Congratulations taunting me. "I want to keep telling myself that I didn't do anything to make her mad at me, but she's never been so angry. I should have never run away in the first place. None of this would have ever happened."

Hal presses off the wall with his hands in his pockets. "Don't beat yourself up about it. How she chooses to deal with this situation is not in your control."

"Yeah, exactly," Shanelle adds. "Nothing you do should make her kick you out permanently."

"Well, that's the thing." I flop onto my back, looking at the metal casing that holds the mattress above me. "Yesterday, I found out my dad has been dead for ten years. Not "missing," dead. I was just so pissed off that I never got the chance to properly tell her that I made it into the Imperial Guard. And she hates the Imperial Guard." Something sparks in my mind, but it is darkening.

"Slater?" Someone calls from the crowd.

I sit up, avoiding anyone's gaze. "My mom isn't coming to the ceremony tomorrow." I duck my face into my hands. "It's the most important day of my life and she isn't going to be there."

A hand cups my shoulder, freeing my face from the grasp of my palms. CJ looks straight through me with that signature grin on his face. "Slater, I think I speak for everyone in Class 30 when I say that we'll all be there for you. No matter if your mom is there or not."

"What are you all doing?"

Our bubble is popped by an outside voice. A collection of swiveling heads direct toward the door of the bunk room, and I find an opening between them. A blonde-haired boy stands in the entrance, holding a blue compress to his cheek. One of the overhead lights is blown out near the door, so he waits in subtle darkness.

Ed, leaning his shoulder against the ladder of the bunk bed, turns back to us with his lips pursed. "Hey, Craig. You feeling better?"

"Yeah, I just had to go grab an ice pack." The Sergeant invades our circle, exposing his violet eye. Almost the same color as my mark. "What's going on over here?"

The lower nine of us only share looks with each other and not Craig. The last thing I want is for him to know why I'm upset. I already know that he doesn't like me, so he'll put an end to this support group the moment he discovers the matter at hand. He's not in the mood to care about anyone else after Hal smacked the shit out of him.

"Nothing, then? Well, then I'll just assume that you all were talking about me in private." He slams his ice compress onto the floor and shoves a finger at each of us. "I haven't been in this class for four days yet and I've already had it up to here with each of you!" He rises on the tip of his toes and plateaus his hand over his head. "If nobody tells me what the hell is going on, I'll report all of you, and there is nothing that any of you can do about it."

This is my issue. I have to be the one.

I press off the bed and hold myself in the space between the cots. Nine pairs of eyes are on me, but only one burns into the side of my neck. My arms hang at my waist as I spin slowly toward the Sergeant. My heart hears the gunshot and begins to race. I bet my dog tags are sparkling under my t-shirt.

"I was upset about something. They were talking to me. That's it."

Craig scoffs. "That's it? What were you upset about?"

"As if you care, Craig," CJ blurts out. "Don't ask questions with answers you'll forget in five seconds."

"Shut up. I want to hear what this low-life has to say." Craig tucks his arms under themselves. "Go on."

I plant my feet so my face is inches from his. Those swamp eyes pull me under the surface with their tangling vines. "First of all, don't call me a low-life unless you want me to bruise your other eye." I curl my knuckles to my palm. "Second, CJ's right. You're not going to give a fuck. It's about my mom. She hates me and she isn't coming to the ceremony tomorrow."

A crocodile smile flashes. "That's what you're worried about? You're sad because someone isn't coming to the ceremony tomorrow? Big fucking deal. You better suck it up."

"I warned you." My right hand charges to his collar, and I raise my heavy fist. I push him away from the rest of the class and into the aisle between bunk beds.

With one of his hands, he clutches my wrist, trying to snap free. He guards his damaged eye with the other. "Go ahead! Punch me right in front of them so we can see the type of monster you really are, you low-life!"

My arm is suspended behind my shoulder, gearing up to extend forward. My biceps are flexed, but nearly shaking. I'm paralyzed, staring into the real estate for my fist on his face.

"People resort to violence too quickly."

I angle Craig over his back, face-up. My fist is trembling.

"Promise me you'll be patient and give people a chance. I know you have to defend yourself out there, but showing people that there is strength in being passive is everything."

"I might need to punch Craig Larsson in the face."

"I guess I could give you one free punch if it's going to Craig."

My palm breathes and I unleash him. He takes a few steps back, baring his sharp teeth. "Scared to do it, Tross? You'll make a fine Imperial Guard. Fucking coward." He shoves past me and reaches for his ice pack on the floor. He glares down the rest of the kids who stand, static. "Any of you try to mess with me, I won't be so merciful." Craig stomps out of the bunkroom and down the hallway as he did an hour ago. Probably going to go sob in the bathroom again.

I'm not a coward. I can't let that jackass manipulate me like that. Just because I don't punch him doesn't mean I won't do it when I need it. I know how to protect myself but I'm not going to hurt my leader, no matter how much he makes me want to. I wish he would stop seeing me as a criminal and just the same as the rest of the class.

Oh well. I have the rest of my life in the Imperial Guard with him as my Sergeant to sort that out. Lucky me.