Quinton Lucas.

  He was not a man cloaked in mystery. Quite the opposite. By the time I was assigned to this station, I had already heard enough stories about him to build a little profile.

  A Terran artificer on a squad that achieved the rank of Prime. In his sixty five years of active duty, he had managed to reach tier 8 and, along with his team, accrued a formidable reputation by the time he retired.

  After working as an administrator for a few years, he left Earth and transferred here to serve as the assistant division commander to his former squadmate. When she was promoted to station commander, Quinton inherited the position.

  This was the man that summoned me.

  An accomplished veteran. A decorated officer. The kind of marshal others quietly measured themselves against. There were very few reasons someone like that would call in a rookie.

  None of them were good.

  As I walked down the corridor toward his office, my thoughts circled back to the old man. He was a former marshal and probably a good one. Was it wrong to arrest someone of his status?

  There had been recordings. A crowd even. My words had not exactly been restrained. Maybe Lucas had reviewed the footage. Maybe he thought I had gone too far.

  If that was the case then what would the punishment be? Volunteer work? A drop in rank? Or maybe, in the worse case scenario, suspension?

  Stop it.

  I exhaled sharply and forced the thought away. Panicking before receiving the charge was pointless.

  I stopped just outside the office door and reoriented myself. Rolled my shoulders. Cracked my neck once. A steady breath in. Slow release.

  Whatever waited inside, I would deal with it.

  "The commander will see you now," Smith's voice came through the interface. "Please step inside."

  The door slid open and I walked into the room.

  It was smaller than I expected.

  A clean desk faced the entrance. Three chairs were arranged before it. Two large sofas lined the adjacent wall. A single shelf stood to the right, neatly arranged with plaques, commendations, and medals — proof of a lifetime spent earning them.

  The entire back wall was glass, overlooking the city far below. The station's lights shimmered against the skyline.

  For a man of his stature, the room was surprisingly restrained.

  The commander was seated at his desk, reviewing documents projected in a hovering display. He did not look up when I entered and merely gestured to the chair in front of him.

  I promptly went over to the middle seat as the door shut behind me.

  He continued reading. Silence stretched.

  Seated across from me, the man looked unmistakably old — pale skin lined with age, short white hair cut close to his head — yet there was nothing fragile about him. Broad shoulders filled the chair, and sharp blue eyes tracked the text with calm, unhurried certainty. He was a picture of authority.

  Minutes passed before he finally dismissed the display and turned his attention fully toward me, taking a few seconds to examine my person.

  "Captain Aldrich," he began. "Welcome to my office, I believe this is our first time meeting?"

  I nodded. "Yes, sir."

  "You can relax. I just want to have a conversation with you so talk as comfortably as you can."

  I could relax? Sure, and Grandpa Simon was an honest man.

  No one is ever summoned to 'just have a conversation'.

  "Understood, sir."

  "Good. I have been going through your file for the past few minutes and I am impressed, to say the least. By the way, congratulations on achieving the top rank in your first exercise."

  Unexpected start. Where could he be going with this?

  "Thank you, sir."

  "Success just seems to follow you, doesn't it?" Commander Lucas said, scrolling lazily through the projections hovering above his desk. "Your aptitude scores are exceptional. Tactical reasoning, combat versatility, reaction time—all in the top percentile."

  He flicked his fingers and another set of figures replaced the previous one.

  "Not only that," he continued, "you graduated as captain of the highest-performing squad from your academy. Eight consecutive years at the top position. No disciplinary issues or performance declines."

  He looked up at me then, properly this time.

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  "That sort of consistency is rare."

  I interlocked my fingers to stop myself from fidgeting. Praise from a man like this should have felt rewarding but I got the feeling he wasn't admiring me.

  "It's safe to say that you are by far the most promising recruit in this batch. I mean, I saw the kill shot you made in the simulator. Some may consider it luck. I am not one of them. I know the skill and coordination required to make that shot at your level."

  I swallowed. "Thanks for the compliments, sir."

  "They are well deserved," he replied evenly, then paused. "Now explain something to me."

  He folded his hands atop the desk.

  "Walk me through your decisions during the exercise. Why did you split your squad? Why did you take that jump? And what exactly was going through your mind when you detonated those grenades?"

  I raised an eyebrow. It was a weird thing to ask. Anyone should be able to understand the logic behind my actions if they gave it a little thought, especially someone like him.

  Eh, maybe he just wanted to hear it from me.

  "I split the squad because cohesion would have worked against us," I began. "Against veteran marshals, structured teamwork becomes predictable. They've trained for years to dismantle coordinated units. We would have been outmaneuvered. As individuals, we were less efficient — but less readable. Also, there was the added benefit of isolating any of their weaker links."

  He gave a faint nod. "Go on".

  "As for the shot, it was a calculated risk I took purely because we were in a simulation and I couldn't afford to let him escape. It would have been a shame to lose such easy points. He was injured and disoriented. The risk-reward ratio favored immediate action."

  That was mostly untrue. My decision to leap was mostly impulse and had little to do with reasoning. Anyone who thought I was lucky was right, but my gamble wasn't in making the shot. It was in surviving the jump.

  He studied me a second longer than comfortable.

  "And the grenades?" he asked.

  "Eliminating myself along with the seniors was the simplest choice. I had no other chance of survival and even if I did, it was obvious that I would gain more from taking them both out.

  I paused, then added, "Frankly, I'm surprised they didn't neutralize me as soon as possible to prevent any last ditch struggles. Had I been in his position, I would have gone for the head."

  The commander leaned back slowly into his chair, nodding in approval.

  "I can't argue with your reasoning," he said. "Your results speak for themselves. As a matter of fact, your cumulative score is the highest ever recorded at the station."

  For a fraction of a second, my composure cracked.

  What?!

  This was incredible. Our credibility just went through the roof. The news would spread and our standing would improve drastically even as initiates. It meant more respect from staff and the higher ranking squads. None of that was easily earned.

  As much as I tried to hide it, I couldn't help grinning .

  He noticed.

  "It's true," he said calmly. "Well done. Maintain this trajectory."

  "Much appreciated, sir."

  There was a shift in his expression. Subtle, almost insignificant. The change in his tone was not.

  "Now that we've established what you are capable of," he said quietly, "let's address why I actually called you here."

  I was beat up way worse than I remembered.

  The footage wasn't flattering by any means, overhead angle revealing that the old man got in a lot more hits than I registered. It was shocking and uncomfortable to see how helpless I was against him. I shuddered thinking how it would've gone if he wasn't drunk.

  Commander Lucas rewound the video without a word, stopping at the part just before the confrontation began. My stomach dropped.

  The video resumed and we both heard every word loud and clear. My comments about his parents, upbringing and possible offspring.

  I lowered my head.

  Although it was true that nothing I said could be judged as an insult, that would only apply if the old man tried to take legal action or in a complaint review. However, the Division Commander could interpret my actions however he saw fit. In this room, he was judge, jury and executioner. My throat felt dry all of a sudden.

  He paused the video just before the old man retaliated.

  "I think it's clear to both of us that during this interaction, you overstepped your boundaries as a marshal. Some could even say you instigated his reaction. What do you have to say for yourself?"

  My pulse hammered in my ears. I had prepared myself for this question and the truth was not an option.

  Marshals wielded enormous authority. That authority was sustained by perception as much as law. Any form of power abuse— no matter how slight — was poison to the image. What would a commander think if I explained to him that a marshal in his probationary stage, instigated and provoked a response from a civilian to justify an arrest just so they could provide an excuse for arriving late on their first day on the job?

  Yeah, no.

  Suspension would be the least of my worries. I could only hope he didn't make any connections himself.

  "I acknowledge my error and have no excuse for the way I handled the situation. While there are no justifications for my actions, I can ask that you allow me to provide context for my unexemplary behaviour."

  He gestured faintly for me to continue.

  "I had only intended to prevent the matter from escalating as I was the first and only one on scene. I tried to resolve it quickly so I would not be late to the briefing. In doing so, I allowed urgency to affect my state of mind. When the old man remained uncooperative I failed to compartmentalize my frustration and applied verbal pressure where patience would have been more appropriate."

  "I regret this lapse. It does not reflect the standard I intend to uphold and I hope to be able to extend my sincerest apologies to him.

  All of this said with the most forlorn look I could muster.

  He regarded for a moment with a serious look, then softened his expression.

  "You are young. Younger than the average initiate. Emotional restraint develops with experience. But understand this — the badge amplifies everything. Your words carry weight. Your tone carries force. If you misuse that, even subtly, it erodes the foundation you stand on."

  I nodded weakly.

  "You must be better than the civilians you police. Not equal to them. Better. Controlled. Precise. Unshakeable. That is what it means to be a marshal."

  "Yes, sir."

  "I considered issuing a formal reprimand," he relaxes. "But after seeing your amazing performance and having this talk with you, I've decided to let you off."

  Relief flooded through me so quickly it almost made me dizzy.

  My shoulders sagged as the tension left my body. Today had been a gauntlet. And it was only my first day. I could only imagine what this job would do to me in the years to come. I was mentally drained and physically exhausted. A break was needed.

  "Thank you sir."

  "Don't take my leniency for granted," he said calmly, raising a finger. "You have a lot of potential, I wouldn't want to see that wasted. You're dismissed. Kon Jarna."

  I saluted. "Kon Jarna."

  As I headed for the door already, anticipating the long nap I would take, a thought popped in my head. Unable to ignore it, I turned back to face the commander.

  "Sir… if I may."

  He raised a brow.

  "Do you have any idea who that man was?" I continued. "He was by no means a regular civilian, not with those skills."

  He chuckled. "He really embarrassed you, didn't he?"

  Heat crept into my face.

  "To answer your question, yes. I know him."

  Turning his chair around, he looked out to the city. I couldn't see his face but his tone bore a hint of sadness.

  "He was one of us. A respected marshal and an old acquaintance of mine. That's all you need to know. Understood?"

  "Yes sir."

  Leaving the office, I thought about what the commander had said.

  An old acquaintance?

  Whatever went on between them must have been quite the story.

  Artificer: A position in marshal squads with the primary responsibility of equipment handling, maintenance and repair.

  There are four major religions and beliefs in this system. There are: The Endrenios faith, Corvinism, Proteanism and Buddhism.

  Buddhism is the only terran belief to stand the test of time and spread throughout the system. Other older religions still exist but are not practisced widespread and remain mostly on Earth.