Slater J. Tross, O.L.C

August 19th, 2030, 7:30 am

Hal paces over the grass in line ahead of me. He holds his hands behind his back, glaring at where his feet press down the short blades into the ground. He has his short sleeves folded up to his shoulders and his sneakers in his grasp.

He glances at me, swinging his shoes by the laces. His eyes, the color of the clear sky above, glisten in the sun. "How long is the line behind you?"

I pivot to the rest of the kids following Hal and I. It appears that the last person in line is curled around the swimming pool, near the combat squares. Nobody has lunch until that boy runs in his test.

It's hard to believe that I've been on this island for a whole week already. I have been tormented, blamed, and cared for all at the same time. I don't know what the Imperial Guard wants me to do with them. Do they want me to hate them because of a few assholes or love them because of the allies I've made? I've been through the turmoil of losing my dad to escaping the Imperial Guard, but I think that I can say that this has been the worst week of my life with confidence.

One week after arrival marks the beginning of the tests. The real deal. I have dreaded this all weekend. My fate rests in how I do in these challenges, and I don't perform well under pressure. At least, not like I used to. I could hit a home run in the championship game last year like it was no issue, but now I'm just too afraid to hold the bat in my hands.

Maybe the contract to my life has something to do with it.

This morning, we start with the obstacle course. The synthetic forest has been altered into a path from one side to the other. There are certain hurdles that must be crossed, though no one knows what they are. All that is determined in the control room overlooking the wood, and they may switch up the arrangement of obstacles as they please. Knowing them, they'd have a crumbling tree fall and crush me.

I turn to Hal, exhaling, bothered. "We're not going to be done for a while. If they didn't have three kids running at a time, we wouldn't be eating dinner."

He shakes his head. "Figures. And you know some guys will be running a five-minute course." He throws his sneakers over his shoulder. "If people are running five-minute courses, their names should just be tossed. There's no way that they would make immediate duty at that rate."

I cross my arms, peering ahead of Hal at the front of the line. "Really? It's only the first test. I'm sure they could make it up at some point."

"No way. Kids making immediate duty are making it into the two to a three-minute range. This is the easiest course to do well in. If you don't have the stamina to excel in this one, there is no way in hell you're getting ranked." He puffs out some air and swivels his head. The line between us and the front of the line is still ways away, but I can feel it quickly approaching.

"Why so negative, Hal?"

"I'm not being negative, Slater, I'm being realistic. I know the ins and outs of this system. I know what flies and what doesn't." Hal snaps, twisting his body toward the pool and holding his sneakers out in front of him.

That's just how Hal is. I'm not denying that he knows everything around here, but there's no need to fire at me like this. He holds a high status around here, expected to be the Sergeant and all. I won't dare try to refute him.

He stops and turns back to me. "I'm sorry, Slater. I'm just on edge. For the first time since I've been here, I've been worried about Craig. I think he's picking up steam and he's going to make a run for it." He glances down the line. "He's about twenty back. I don't know what to expect from him. He'll know what my time was, and he'll want to try to beat it. If I want to be Sergeant, I have to do better than him on all the tests."

Craig swipes his golden hair back on top of his head and mindlessly stares out at the ocean. I have never met this kid before. I wouldn't know what to expect from him, either. He might be one of those potentially dangerous types. But he most certainly doesn't look like a nice guy at all. Cocky, almost.

"Don't worry about what he does, Hal. You do what you can, and let him do his thing." I watch as my friend's fingers tremble around his shoelaces. "It's not the end of the world if you aren't ranked first. You're still in the Imperial Guard."

The flames in his eyes look like fireworks in the middle of a summer day. "You clearly aren't looking at this the same way I am. Nobody wants to be second place. If I have the chance to be first, I'm going to take it."

"If you were in my position, I think you would know what I'm talking about." My heart falls at the conclusion of the statement. He's lucky that he's in the immediate duty conversation in the first place. I'm going to have to fight for it. He doesn't know what he has.

"I'm trying to make an impression, Slater." He pokes a finger into his chest as his shoes still dangle in his grasp. "Colonel MacTavish and Major Talbot challenged Craig and I to compete, and I'm not just going to let him have it. I wouldn't give up anything to take that top spot."

There's no point in arguing with him; I know he's right. It just wouldn't hurt for him to look at it from my point of view. I have my life to worry about, and he has to worry about whether or not he's going to be ranked first or second. To him, that's more important than anything else. I wish I could see it that way.

We cruise to the front of the line within a twenty-minute span of silence between us. It should be around eight o'clock now, which leaves three or four more hours until lunch. Or whenever the last kid runs in his obstacle course. The energy from my breakfast is slipping away by the minute. If we don't hurry up, my run is going to be embarrassingly sluggish. They'll have the throw away my name like Hal claims they will.

Corporal Keller, the grumpy one who can't coordinate his outfits or his personality, clicks the button on top of the gigantic timer beside the starting plates. The three recruits, two boys and one girl, spring into motion and into the brush. The digital, red numbers race higher and higher as time passes. Whoever touches their corresponding silver saucer at the end of the course first will have their time stopped and will appear on the timer on the other side and here. Once the third person reaches the conclusion of the race, the timer ceases, the times are recorded by the rankers, and the numbers reset to zero. All we have to worry about, though, is what goes in between.

So, between two and three minutes is immediate duty material, according to Hal. On Tuesday I ran a time of two minutes and forty-six seconds, and I even fell. If I can keep my feet on the ground and my eyes open, I should be able to match that time or do even better. I have to focus on what is about to happen. The beginning of the fight for my life.

The fastest kid in the heat before mine got two minutes and fifty seconds. So I did better than that one. The slowest kid has a time of three-fifteen. That's actually closer than I expected it to be. Both are pretty decent times, too. I'd even say average. I have to do even better than that to get a good rank.

Keller squints at Hal and I and the girl behind us. "You three are next. Let's go, we have a whole other half of the class to get through. Step up to the circles and begin your run when I say so." He throws his walkie-talkie up to his mouth. "van Lester, Tross, and DeGuetta are up."

"Send them." A voice of static responds.

I take my place farthest from the timer, with Hal in the center and the girl closest to Keller. Five feet separate him and I, but when we enter the forest, it'll be a border of fallen trees unnaturally stacked between us. I won't see him until we exit on the other side, where the rankers stand with the clipboards in their hands.

Time to show the world what I'm made of. I'm not getting any kind of free ride because I was given the OLC and I have to make the most of the opportunity. I can run faster than ninety percent of the kids on this island. They didn't have to run some bullshit two miles every day as part of their training. They didn't have to run away from the Medo to save their life, and they most certainly didn't have to escape the Imperial Guard for four months. I'm a more seasoned runner than they are, and this is the moment to prove it.

As Keller fiddles with the timer, I fall into my starting stance and turn to my friend. I've only really known Hal since Thursday, but he's given up his status as potential Sergeant to talk to me, which I can't repay him for. He's taught me a lot about mastering the Imperial Guard after my fallout on Wednesday night. He got me back on my feet, and I could never express my appreciation enough.

Hal pulls the loops of his shoelaces tight and stands up. He notices me watching him, and grins. "What?"

"No, nothing," I mumble, facing forward again. "I was just going to say good luck. Don't let him get into your head. You control what happens next."

He nods his head and lets it settle for a few seconds. "Thanks, Slater. Good luck to you, too."

Corporal Keller stares us down. "On the count of three. When I say go, the timer starts."

My eyes lock down to the end of the wooded tunnel, or what I perceive to be the end. Between me and the rankers lies collapsed trees, branches at the height of my neck, and so much more I can hardly begin to describe. They have manipulated the course to be very different from the one I ran on Tuesday; they've made it more challenging to traverse.

"Go!"

An explosive start sends me pouncing over the first layer of shrubbery and onto the grainy dirt. The first few obstacles are of the natural variety. Rocks require me to slide around them in an enclosed space or climb over them. Trees look like a limbo pole and force me to decide whether or not I hurdle over them or crawl. The more time I spend on the ground, the slower I go, so I refrain from hitting the mud too much.

My lungs aren't suffering right now, but that's all about to change. The obstacles are closer and closer together, with a maze of branches overtop plateaus of rocks. I climb to the top of the first stone and start dodging the limbs of trees and dangling leaves that conceal my vision ahead. I have to hurry through this portion, it'll take up too much of my total time.

I get nicked by a sharp twig as I hop down from the flat rock, and I can feel the heat of liquid roll down my temple. It's a feeling that I've experienced before, and under worse circumstances. I just need to keep pressing on, and I can get it cleaned up once I'm done. It'll show the rankers how tough I am. I continue running.

Be prepared to jump.

Oh no. Not now. "What?" I breathe out, keeping my arms in motion.

On your right.

At that moment, my gaze switches to look where Roarke tells me to. I hear a harsh crunching and an enormous trunk crashes onto the forest floor. Flames erupting from the wood spit ash into the air above it. If I didn't get a warning before, that very well could have killed me. I leap over the log and don't look back for anything.

The mark on my arm has transformed from its raven color to that of a sunset. It dies back to the original hue as I press onward. "Thank you."

You're welcome. I can't have you dying yet.

"I appreciate that."

I emerge from the brush with my hand clinging to my arm. My foot crushes the plate and my time on the clock stops, but I pay no attention to that. I can't have anyone seeing that I have this mark activated, even though I never even initiated for it to do so in the first place. I've heard whispers that people around here are more suspicious about the mark than ever before, and I can't risk the questions and scrutiny. Anything that would kill my rank.

I lift my hand up from my arm and observe the M, which has returned to its black-violet color. I relax my body and bring my eyes back up to the surrounding world. There is a crowd of Imperial Guard amateur officers with their clipboards over by the gravel path back to the headquarters. Two of them view a small monitor in their hands and nod over to a girl over by the timer. She jots something down and gestures for me to approach.

"You're Slater?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Sergeant Rory, Class 27. I am ranking your performances this week." She holds her documents by her hip and sticks her hand out. Her amber hair lays in a braid over her shoulder. "You have two minutes, twenty-five seconds to your name. That's the fifth best time of the day so far. Your friend, Hal, officially now has the fastest at two minutes, five seconds."

I beat my time from Tuesday. That's all I should care about right now, but how could I? My friend has the best time on the island as of now. How could Craig ever beat that? That's right; he can't.

Hal is slumped over by the path with his hands on his head. He's been done for nearly a minute now, and the beads of sweat continue to roll down his face and neck. The blistering temperature attacks us and makes it worse that we just got done running that horrible course. I don't blame him for being exhausted. It's must be tiring being Sergeant of your class.

"Hal!"

"Oh, God, Slater. I can't feel my legs." He groans, rolling over onto his stomach.

I slide onto the grass next to him. I try to pull him up by his white tee, but it sticks to the muscles on his back as he heaves. "C'mon, Hal, you'll have plenty of time to rest after the swimming test tonight."

"Oh fuck. Don't remind me that there is more than one test." He tilts his head to face me on the ground. "What did you get?"

"Two twenty-five."

Hal chuckles with his face in the dirt. "Not bad, slick. Hey, don't count this kid out!" He exclaims, likely guided toward the rankers only a few yards away.

He may be joking, and that's okay. But coming from the future Sergeant of Class 30, I'll take any kind of positive reinforcement I can get.

You heard him, rankers. Don't count me out.