Capt. Brian W. Manchester, No. 002

21 August 2030

18:32 QCT

The knuckle of my index finger taps on the glass panel of the door with the title of Colonel printed across it. There is some slight commotion in the break room at the end of the hall, the typical banter. If that dies down for a moment, for once, the headquarters might actually seem peaceful. Things are twisting these days.

"Give me one second," James finally responds. I relax and lean against the wall across from the door.

Something incredible happened a little less than twelve hours ago. Never in my life have I seen such an act of redemption and dignity, and that says something. I've been in the Imperial Guard for thirty years and never in that time have I witnessed quite an event like the one that transpired during the ranking this morning. I'm sure that many of the officers in these parts were just as impressed as I was.

Let me put it all into perspective. Slater Tross was never supposed to defeat Leo Fedman in the first round. Fedman is Master Sergeant Petry's pupil, and even he admits that he's a talented fighter. From what I've heard around the break room, Slater was unphased by his attempts to take him down. In fact, both him and his second round opponent, whose name escapes me at the moment, were nothing more than a cakewalk.

Everyone said he just got lucky that he advanced into the next morning. One could argue that maybe it was chance he had the ability to defeat his first two adversaries. But then he goes off and handsomely takes care of Hal van Lester, James' prodigy child. That was about the moment we got the call from Sergeant Lee that something marvelous was about to unfold in the backyard. When we discovered that the final round would feature Craig Larsson and Slater Tross, we did not hesitate to tune in.

An officer went downstairs to the north wing and broadcasted the whole fight to us upstairs in the break room. General Hamilton ordered us to come in early in case Hal and Craig would face off, but it turned into something far more interesting. After that, we were told to stay in the officer's wing while the live video was sent to us. The shame of it was that Levi wasn't even there to watch his student take on Slater, the boy who he despises more than anything in the world.

Silence fell over all the officers when we saw Craig tumble out of bounds. We could discern all the blood that has trailed down Slater's face and neck, and the horde of kids hounding him as soon as Brayden confirmed the victory. The officers hold their comments under their tongues as my regard remains on the fuzzy screen where we witnessed it all. I had no words.

The boy who raised his arms in triumph was not the Slater Tross I knew. His demeanor of confidence and desire made him unrecognizable from the kid I took in three weeks ago. He has grown so much during his time here, and I can't begin to describe how proud I am of him. He proved me wrong for ever doubting him.

James appears at his door, paperclipping a stack of documents. "Sorry, I was just finishing signing something. Come on in."

I follow him into his office, pulling the door closed behind me. He has the ceiling fan whipping around its point above our heads, plus the windows turned outward. All to get the air flowing. Seagulls hover in the cloudless sky without ever threatening to swoop into his office to disturb the shaken peace.

James' workspace has a peculiar design to those of the officers below him. There are two specific objects that give the whole place its own aura of strength. Between the shelves on the left, there is a display containing the most prestigious items one can be in possession of. A sharp, white star with a scarlet gem in the center lays propped next to a silver, razor-edged sword. A faded photograph portrays a fresh-faced seventeen-year-old with gold bangles strewn about his black uniform and the star pinned over his heart. All over a velvet, navy-blue backdrop.

His performance in the ranking caught the eye of every high power in the Empire, including Emperor Hyka himself. When His Majesty's twins were born in 2007, he required a member of the Imperial Guard to be the watchman of his children as they grew old. Thus, he picked no one other than the newest Sergeant, Isaiah James MacTavish.

Until James was appointed Colonel eight years ago, he spent many of his hours in the Castle, acting as a second father to Cameron and Cecilia. The stories he would tell about the high life and nobility in the Empire were astounding to commoners like him and I. He would attend the parties of the most affluent families and protect the children from exploitation. Apparently, he had to do a lot of that.

Opposite of the display is a portrait of the legendary General Thomas Beauregard. The light brushstrokes have been preserved for over a century and a half, just as if it was painted last year. It was given as a generous gift to James from the Emperor after his last night as guardian of the heir. Unbeknownst to him, everyone in the Imperial Guard refers to the painting as "The Mirror."

I tower over his desk as he guides himself to his leather throne on the other side. He tucks the file into one of the drawers and locks his hands on the surface. He knows exactly what he did, and he wants to rub it all in.

"Go ahead, say it." I shake my head, watching him.

James throws his hands up, pushing himself away from his desk with his feet. "No, no. I'm not going to be like that. Slater did that all by himself. I'm just the one who gave him the chance to do it." He stops before he says anything else and grins. "But the OLC doesn't look all that bad anymore, does it?"

"There it is."

I picture myself three weeks ago, charging into his office with steam scorching from my ears. He stood at the window, staring aimlessly at the western shoreline. At the moment, I saw him as the man who just pushed the big red button and awaited the destruction of civilization. I remember asking him if he had any idea what he just did.

All he said was, "Something bold."

He kicks his shoes up onto his desk, the dusty soles facing me. "I think Slater's chances are looking a lot better now. I think he could make it in the fifty to one hundred range, easily. Nobody defeats a top recruit in the combat tournament and doesn't make it into immediate duty."

Those words mean the world to me right now. Hearing the possibility of ranking fills my heart with nothing but hope. Having Slater be free is my biggest concern at the moment, and that is paramount to all this searching. I would do anything to see him again and tell him how proud I am of him. Our last meeting was cut short, and I take all responsibility for that.

I see a lot of Hayes in that young man. Around me, they were insubordinate and would go to extremes to get out of doing something I asked them to. Once I turn my back on them, they prevail in everything they do, against my somewhat doubting beliefs. They both possess some kind of undisclosed capability that makes them attractive to the rankers. My son was ranked eighth in Class 23. I pray that a similar outcome falls to Slater.

"I told Amy about what happened Friday night this morning before I left." James lays his hands over his stomach, slumping in his seat. "I hadn't told anyone since it happened. If I tell her anything about any violent crime, she worries about me ever coming back to work. And I always have to remind her, you know, I was twenty years old when I had to jump off the bridge out here into the ocean just so I wouldn't get pulverized by bullets. But no, she thinks I'm getting old and I'm not as spry as I used to be. Like no shit, we all get old."

I sit down on the arm of the dull green sofa in front of his desk. "I bet you say that whenever your kids complain. "Dad, I think I have a cold." "Yeah, well suck it up. I almost got shot by a tyrannical General's army when I was not much older than you." That's what you sound like."

He slaps the air in front of him and sighs. "You're lucky I care about you enough to not start making fun of the things you've been through."

"How thoughtful of you."

"Anyway, I told Amy what happened, and I think Danny might have heard me talk about it. If it was up to me, I wouldn't want anyone to know but me. I told only Amy just to get it off my chest. Now that he knows, I'm not sure what's going to happen next. I just hope he doesn't go telling Lily because she has nightmares as is."

He told me about this last week when he was over at my place. "Still?"

James nods, massaging his face with one of his hands. "Oh yeah. It's gotten worse. She's sleepwalking now, mumbling obscure things as she does. Sunday night, she fell asleep on the couch downstairs and walked out the door. I don't know how far she would have gone if Danny didn't go down to get a snack. He saw her out on the front porch, pacing around."

"Damn."

A light pounding on the glass guides James' eyes past me, and I turn to see who enters. Before the Colonel can invite the person in, the door swings open to introduce Brayden Lee, followed by a calm and collected young man with some tiny scratches tearing on his face.

"Sir, Hal would like to have a word with you," Lee announces. He starts back for the hallway, leaving the three of us in the office alone.

James pulls his feet under his desk and hauls his body in closer. "What's the problem, son?"

Hal navigates around the side of the couch, and I move to the edge of the Colonel's desk so that he can see his mentor. The tranquility behind the beaten appearance quickly becomes disturbed, and he hides his face in his hands. When the fingers wipe off his chin, the whites of his eyes have been tinted light pink. His arms quiver, scratching his chin.

"I fucked up, Colonel. I really, really fucked up."

James glances at me slowly. "It's just one test, Hal. You've been dominating in all the other ones. Losing in the tournament isn't going to kill your rank."

Hal shakes his head. "No, no. I did something bad. Like, really bad." His eyes dart my way, wincing when my face comes to view.

"Hal, listen. I'm not angry at you for losing. It's not the end of the world if you don't-"

"I cheated!" The young man jolts out of his seat with his hands clenched at his sides. Drops are seeping down his face, over the small red hills that mark his cheeks. "I should have won, but I cheated."

James leans back in his chair. He scrunches his eyes as he stares at his pupil. "What do you mean, you cheated? How do you cheat and not win?"

He sucks in his tears and turns away from us. "God, I don't know if I can even tell you guys this. Promise me you won't tell anyone. Please, promise."

"Go on," eases James. The recruit sits back down on the worn out sofa, watching his shoes. He refuses to look up for one second to see what we think.

"Yesterday after the run, I met with Alan O'Shea, Leo Fedman, and Ned Trotter. They're all top recruits who were supposed to fight Slater in the tournament in the first two rounds. I told them," Hal pauses. His jaw is trembling, trying to find the words. "I told them to take a dive. And they did."

My heart collapses into my stomach. I cannot put into words what I just heard. Those two boys lost to Slater because Hal told them to. None of Slater's triumphs were true; all perpetrated by a couple of suckers and James' recruit. For a shining moment, I was so proud of him, conquering a feat that everyone in the offices deemed impossible. I guess such beautiful things are not as they seem.

"And then I did too," Hal continues. "I wanted him to get to the final round and possibly have a chance at winning. I didn't expect him to win. It was all about getting the opportunity. But it seems that him defeating Craig was an added bonus."

"Hal," James mutters. "How could you do that? You could get in serious trouble."

"I'm sorry, okay?" The barrier he valiantly held against his tears shatters. "Slater is my friend. I don't want anything to happen to him. I just want him to be ranked." For once, he builds the courage to look me right in the eyes. "I'm sorry, Captain. I just don't want him to get hurt. Please don't tell him. He'll hate me."

The Colonel observes his student's outflow of emotion. "You have to understand, Hal. You can either tell Slater what you did or one of us will have to tell one of the rankers. You can't do things like that. That's against policy."

The boy shakes his head, backing away. "No, no, no. Please, don't tell Slater. He will never forgive me. I know it saves his life but he'll be pissed. He's about doing things honestly now. He told me that over the weekend. Even though the thing on his arm glows."

"If you can convince us to not tell Rory what happened, we won't. But you have to persuade us." James crosses his arms, studying the kid.

I don't want to be involved with the "us" in that statement. Never in my life would I ever tell any of the rankers about Hal's antics to save Slater. Am I disappointed that such an admirable young man such as Hal did something like this? I can't say no to that. But I'm trying to visualize the bigger picture here, and that's ensuring that Slater survives into the Imperial Guard. I don't know why James has suddenly turned against the one whose life he saved. Since when has he been one to do things the right way? After all, this is the same man who revived a dead loophole in order to allow Slater a chance at his freedom.

Hal breathes out and stares right at his mentor. "You don't know what Slater has been through since he got here. He was picked on by some asshole to the point where he had to fight him in one of the bathrooms. Then they moved him to my group instead of the kid he fought, so he had to make all new friends and that other kid got away with no punishment. Even Lee treats him like shit. And through all of that, he's found it in himself to push on and focus on the end result. He's not letting all this drama get into his head. I mean, for fuck's sake, he defeated Craig Larsson, and I never told him to let him win. He beat Craig all on his own, without my help." He inhales, peering at me for another moment. "If that isn't enough for you two, I don't know what is."

"He beat Craig by himself?" I inquire. If that's the case, then all of this arguing from James' side needs to come to an end. It appeared to be an arduous battle from what I saw, but until now I thought Craig took a dive, too. It makes the most sense that he didn't, though. Under what circumstances would he let Slater win after what he did to Levi and his family?

Hal nods, turning back to James. "Yeah. Craig was coming for him, too. I don't know how he did it."

The Colonel looks at the picture frames on his desk. One of them, depicting him and his family, halts him for longer than the others. The kids are a lot younger than they are now. Lily is swaddled in Amy's caring arms. In 2023, the idea of Slater Tross ever being a threat wasn't even a thought. How much simpler life was then. How precious life is now.

He brings his regard back to the young man across from him. "This conversation stays in this room. We aren't going to tell anyone, and you shouldn't either. Maybe when it's all said and done you can tell Slater. But listen, Hal, you need to understand that what you did was wrong. If you do something like that again, I won't be so merciful."

"Please, promise. I need to know you really won't."

"What?" James straightens out. "Why do you need me to-?" He looks down for a second, then back up at him. He nods. "I promise, Hal."

For the first time since he arrived, Hal grins. Some tears still curl around his lips. "Thank you, Colonel. I won't do it again." He springs to his feet and makes his way to the exit. He turns the handle and pulls the door toward him.

"Hey, Hal?" James calls out from his seat behind the desk. The boy pivots back to him, wiping under his eye. "You still have a job to do, you know. You have a few tests left to go. Time to bounce back. Make me proud, kiddo."

The recruit says nothing but leaves the office with a smile on his face. Lee waves to us and closes the door behind them. The space between James and I is tense at best.

Add Hal's "sacrifice" to the list of things Slater doesn't know, even about himself. When will the gray mist subside? I may have to be the one to lighten the way for him to discover the truth about his own life. And I'm okay with taking that role.