Slater J. Tross, O.L.C

August 14th, 2030, 11:39 am

The calm morning sun supervises the backyard as the gathering of recruits have scattered to the various stations throughout the wide space. The heat isn't as strong as it was yesterday, but it is borderline unmanageable. Clouds are nowhere to be found, with the only traces of them being over the horizon. It stormed last night, leaving the grounds of the headquarters cooler than before.

I watch as the surface of the pool glimmers like diamonds from the sunlight. The water surges as recruits break the barrier to the air, and the rest of the pool is disordered. Its arctic blue glow is the same hue as the sky, as are the oceans on the shores of Sabul. It's a bit on the chilly side, though, which should feel nice against the heat.

I decided to head to the swimming trials this morning with my new friend, CJ Martin. He had gone to the fighting training yesterday and was planning on moving on to the pools today. I don't know if I could have said the same, but I'm glad that I'm tagging along with him. He makes this whole experience more enjoyable than I imagined.

CJ is a pretty cool dude. We talked after dinner last night, following that brief encounter with Luke. He sleeps in the same bunk room as me, and his bed is located three to the right of Don Weller, from where I am stationed. He said that he wanted to choke the twins and their boss in their sleep, which he had to reiterate so that I understood that he was joking. He doesn't like resulting to violence so quickly. "At least wait for them to swing their t-rex arms before you fight back," he jested.

He admits that he has some popularity at school, though he has some things that he's not very open about. He's on the football team, a wide receiver, and loves going to parties; throwing them, too. He doesn't like telling anyone that he calls himself a "nerd", and used to be made fun of for liking books. His favorite pastime is reading, which doesn't go over well with his teammates. He could read two books in a week, he brags. I could read two books in a year.

Before lights-out last night, I looked across the aisle and saw him with a book in his lap, while the rest of the buffoons in the room were bouncing off the walls. I don't know how he could concentrate with so much noise. He told me that he had three younger siblings, so I'm sure he's used to the disturbances. I'm not the reading type, but it seems much better than doing something mindless... like a bunch of seventeen-year-old boys having a pillow fight.

At breakfast earlier this morning, CJ told me something that tied it all up in a nice little bow. As it turns out, he is expected to make it into the top ten of the class. The athletic side, the intellectual side, plus the emotional and mental strength; it makes sense now. He joined the Imperial Guard because the option was recommended to him by a recruiter that visited Stanville. He was given the choice to have a mentor for the summer, and if he went through with it, it's very likely he would've been paired with the Captain.

But no. Here he is, silently boasting confidence. No weight on his shoulders.

CJ offered to try out the trial before I do today. From the looks of it, and what Private O'Shea explained, the test is just how long you can stay underwater. So far, no one has surpassed forty-seven seconds. I'm not so sure that I could go that long. Private O'Shea says that he's disappointed that no one can reach at least a minute, and no one is heading to lunch until someone makes it. CJ knows he can do it.

"It's really not that hard, you know," He describes, observing the swimmers as they pace around the pool. "Your lungs may burn, but you have to get past that. Then, it's easy."

I glance at him, cocking an eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure that's drowning, CJ. The "easy part" is dying."

"Exactly my point. Dying is way too easy to do. You have to fight through it."

I kick my feet in the gentle water. "Now you're just getting philosophical. Hopefully, I don't have to think about dying anytime soon."

"Nah, you won't. Just think happy thoughts."

"I wish it was that easy," I say as I am splashed under the thigh. The water is jumping out of the pool and spilling over the edge. "Whenever I think positively, life throws something at me. I can't focus; there's too much going on."

Private O'Shea approaches the group of boys gathered around the inground pool. "We can have five of you go at once. Who wants to try it next?"

My companion rises from his seat at the water's edge. "I'll go, sir."

"Great, thank you. Anyone else?"

Unsurprisingly, not another soul offered to attempt the trial. One guy reluctantly lifted his hand over his head and trudged to the ladder at the other side of the pool. Besides CJ and this kid, no one wanted to try it out. I know CJ told me to wait until he practices it first, but if a quota needs to be met, I guess I could give it a whirl. There's no harm in going early.

I reel in my legs from the water and stand up. "I can go."

Instead of annoyance, CJ grins. Come to think of it, I can't picture him being extensively bothered by anything. "All right, Slater. Let's go."

O'Shea leads the two of us to where the second boy walked. So we just have to stay underwater as long as possible without drowning. Sounds simple enough. I want to go to lunch, and I want to be the one to save the day.

Huh, come to think of it, that's not such a bad idea. If I show the Private and the kids in my group that I can accomplish this seemingly impossible feat, maybe they will respect me. They'll want to thank me for sending them off to lunch, and maybe they'll have the desire to talk to me later on. We can become friends and my alliances can branch out more. Alliances, not cliques.

CJ removes his white-shirt and tosses it off to the side. He eases into the pool, sliding off the edge gently and breaking the surface of the water. The marker along the outline of the swimming pool indicates the depth is two and a half meters. I watch as CJ presses away from the wall and he treads water. There is space between the tips of his toes and the bottom.

The balls of my feet hang over the edge, over the water. My arms hang by my side, slightly trembling. I can't move them to pull my shirt up over my head. I observe the other volunteer sinking his head below the surface and emerge again. Some water splashes against the wall and it tickles my feet. It sends a shiver through my body.

Private O'Shea approaches me from my right. "What are you waiting for, Tross? Get in the water already."

"Slater, it's okay! It's not that bad!" CJ calls from the other side of the pool.

In an instant, my plan for popularity deteriorates. I can swim, that's not the issue. There is something that is holding me back from just diving in. Everyone's eyes are glaring at me, anticipating my splash into the pool. O'Shea's judgment burns into the side of my head, gluing me to my position. I just can't do it.

One minute underwater, Slater. Sixty seconds. That's it. You got this.

My arms raise up to my chest, and my fingers hook underneath the collar of my shirt. Before I can pull it over my head, I feel two masses press against the top of back, throwing my body forward. For only a few brief moments, I'm airborne until I crash into the water, twisted to my left. As a reflex, I shut my eyes before piercing the surface.

I bring myself to the top seconds later, taking a short breath. Blinking a few times, my vision clears. CJ is rising out of the pool where I was previously stationed. A crowd forms around my new friend, and shouting ensues. I catch a shove or curse word here and there, though I don't know what happened only ten seconds ago.

There is a spot near the crowd where I can push myself out of the pool. My t-shirt sticks to my chest like a wetsuit. I peel it off from my hip, wringing it out by my feet. This is not how I wanted my day to go. Now my shirt is soaked and I have to let it dry before I go to lunch. No shirt, no service in the mess hall.

"You think you're funny, Luke? Because clearly, you're the only one who finds yourself hilarious. No one thinks you're funny."

"Cool it, CJ. It was a joke."

"Jokes are supposed to be funny, you stupid ass."

I'm on the outskirts of the gathering, but I can interpret who this altercation involves. All of a sudden, Luke is the defensive one. Whenever he does something to me, he never attempts to take back his words. Now that CJ is the one on the scene, acting like some kind of bodyguard, and Luke doesn't dare to persist. He has been more conserved since I've made CJ's acquaintance, which makes me wonder: is Luke Bradley afraid?

"Break it up, boys!" The mass shuffles around upon hearing O'Shea's command. I'm standing on my tiptoes, attempting to glance at what is happening in the center of it all. The circle is rows thick, so my efforts to see my friend and enemy are unsuccessful. I can't be out here on the outside while CJ fights my battle for me. I want to take on Luke myself.

"CJ!" I call from the pool's edge. The volume around me intensifies, so my companion doesn't so much as bat an eye my way. Soon enough, though, all the kids surrounding us kill their noise and pin their attention on the blonde tormentor.

"Race me, Martin. You lose, you hop off Slater's dick. I lose, maybe I won't disturb you two lovebirds as much."

I rise as high as I can on my toes. "CJ, you don't have to-"

"Fine. Let's race."

"Wait, CJ!"

I accompany the flock as they follow CJ and Luke to the wooded area for the running trials. CJ didn't test for this one yet, but Luke might have before he came to the pool. That's going to put him at an unfair advantage. I have to stop CJ before the race, or else I'd imagine Luke could beat him pretty handily.

What kind of friend am I? CJ is willing to stand up for me like this, and I doubt him and retract my faith. He's one of the top recruits in the class, right? And what is Luke; a degenerate nobody. CJ Martin is a star wide receiver for Stanville High School, while Luke is nothing but a bully. I should be placing my bets on my new ally, as should everyone else, including the Weller twins.

Private Keller stomps toward O'Shea. "It's lunchtime, Dylan. I don't have time to monitor another group."

Before the Private can respond, Luke perks up. "You're not monitoring anyone, Keller. We have something to settle and it doesn't involve you. Go to lunch." Dick. Keller trudges to the headquarters, glaring back at the mass forming near his station to observe the race.

Luke and CJ walk to the forest's edge, on the silver plates. The menacing shrubbery looms over team Martin, while team Bradley sees the path clear ahead of them. A surprising amount of people have sided with us, though I expected it to be nearly everyone considering how much of a dick Luke is.

Private O'Shea stands between the two, raising one of his arms. "All right, guys. Here's how this is going to go: I'll start you two on go. You'll run to the other end of the simulator, touching your appropriate plate, and run back. The first one back wins. You must touch both plates to finish the race. Are we clear?"

Luke snorts, pivoting his head. "Let's go, Dylan. I want to get this over with."

O'Shea rolls his eyes. "Right. Ready?"

CJ sinks to the ground, spreading out his fingers across the sleek surface of the plate beneath his feet. He kicks his legs out behind him, putting himself into a start position. Luke glances over at his opponent and mimics him steadily.

"Set?"

A silence falls over the crowd.

"Go!"

My friend charges his leg ahead and springs into an instant sprint. My enemy follows suit, and in a few seconds, are nothing but one with the synthetic forest. They won't be back for a while.

It all happened so fast. One moment I'm standing beside the pool about to jump in, and the next I'm watching my best friend race the neighborhood dickhead. I wasn't even able to talk to CJ before he followed Goldilocks to the woods. I couldn't thank him for sticking up for me. He didn't have to do that; I can stand up to Luke myself.

How could I ever repay CJ for this? This is the second time he has stood up for me since I met him. There is nothing I can do to show him that he's not alone in this fight. He doesn't have to keep doing this for me. I surely appreciate the help, though how can I ever get better if I don't take on Luke directly? Maybe that's just how CJ is; always happy to help.

CJ's plate comes up first on the timer after about a minute or two. He's winning, without ever running in this trial. How adaptable must he be, to be able to conform to a race he's never seen before? If he's entering the top ten in this recruit class, I could only imagine how versatile the other recruits around him are. He and I are on two different levels.

The Weller twins mumble expletives behind me a minute after Luke's time appeared on the board. He's nearly ten seconds behind CJ, and perhaps more now that time has passed. My friend could be building a gap between himself and my enemy, which makes this all so much sweeter. If Luke loses, he'll leave me alone. But will he really? When has he ever been honest about anything?

Besides when he insults me, of course.

Through the brush, I see a figure dodging the various branches and leaves that hang in his way. His appearance is uncertain, so I crane my head to maybe get a better light angle. In seconds, his body becomes clearer, as does my mind. A smile crawls across my face as he's only a few yards from the starting plate.

CJ bounds over the last bushes and lands on the silver saucer and Luke Bradley is nowhere to be found. The crowd around me surrounds my friend, slapping his shoulder playfully. He glances up at me and copies my reaction. His everlasting grin returns.

"Thank you, CJ," I say, approaching around the group of kids that swarmed him. "You didn't have to do that, but thank you."

He turns to witness Luke finally reach the end of the race, panting. "Don't worry about it. Now, I don't have to try for that trial tomorrow. It's too easy. Plus, he ain't all that." 

He goes to where Luke is greeted by the twins, and I follow behind him. "Hey, nice race, Luke."

As expected, Luke wipes his brow, sneers, and marches away to the headquarters with his henchmen following behind him.