Interregnum Two

As the storyline continues forward, the backstory has to be expanded as well. The characters all have a history which makes them who they are... and during the writing of this current work, I found myself making various notes in a style that lent itself to being included in the story. Here is the second of these intervals, and there will be more fit in between various chapters as the story progresses.

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                A tall, somber young man walks briskly down the stark corridor. He is wearing a new, unfamiliar uniform and it doesn’t quite fit properly. His soft black hair is newly cropped, and he runs his hand over it, frowning to himself. He is glancing around, watching the people he passes, trying to see if they are watching him. His eyes are quite unusual, an intense deep grey, striking against his fair skin. They seem to see everything, notice everything, even as he keeps walking down the corridor.

                A deep, officious voice says, “And where are you headed, Mr. Bianchi?”

                The owner of the voice is just ahead. The young man straightens his shoulders, and tugs at his uniform jacket as he stops and waits, saluting the speaker as he comes closer. The clean white walls seem to echo with the varied whispers of the people going about their varied business.

                The tall blond man with the serious face looks sternly down at the dark-haired young man. His uniform is freshly pressed, his medals polished, his hair smooth.

                The young man’s voice is more composed than he feels as he answers, “To the Orientation, Sir. I was just given my orders. Sir.”

                “You are late, you know. The class has already begun.”

                The young man frowns again. His hands clench into fists as he debates with himself about what to say next.

                “I am sorry, Captain, Sir. It won’t happen again.” He lowers his head, his eyes sparkling with defiance.

                He does not mention the dreams that have been plaguing his sleep for many nights. He does not understand them, and does not want this superior Officer to think badly of him. He vows to never again be in a position of having to explain himself, when he cannot.

                The Officer looks down at the young man, wanting to smile but unable to show his feelings. He glances around at the people of the Academy, passing by without any visible reaction. They are going about their daily lives, uncaring about these two men, one an experienced Officer, one a new recruit on his first day. They each have a class to teach, or to attend, and are focused on their own concerns.

                “All right, Mr. Bianchi. Go on to your class. I expect to hear a good report of your performance. I recommended you for this, don’t let me down.”

                The young man looks up, his eyes clear and calm. He is confident. He knows this day is the beginning of what he has been working toward ever since he can remember. He has graduated at the top of his class at University, he has no doubts about what his future is to be. His shoulders are square and solid, his head held high.

                “Absolutely not, Sir. You won’t be sorry, I promise... Sir.”

                He salutes the Officer respectfully, waits for the nod of approval, then turns and continues on his way down the corridor.

               

                None of the myriad of Humans in the corridor, or anywhere else at the Academy, notes the momentousness of this day. It passes by like any other, without fanfare.

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