THE CENTENNIAL
By
Scott Rickey
A post-historical, alternate-history dystopian thriller grounded in real ideological systems.
Copyright © 2026 Scott Rickey
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
First printing, 2026.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1 — Celebration..................................................................…...….......................... 1
Chapter 2 — Defection............................................................................…...................... 26
Chapter 3 — Wolf ..............................................……………………………………………....................... 51
Chapter 4 — Recovery.......................................................................................…........... 72
Chapter 5 — Deception................................................................................................. 100
Chapter 6 — Ghost...................................................................................…..................... 122
Chapter 7 — Evacuation............................................................................................... 143
Chapter 8 — Lucifer’s Mascot ...........................…………………………………………………......... 173
Chapter 9 — Sabotage..................................................................…............................. 204
Chapter 10 — Redeployment..................................................................................... 228
Chapter 11 — Pirates..............................................................................................…...... 248
Chapter 12 — Resort.........................................................................................…............ 271
Chapter 13 — Passage.................................................................................................. 296
Chapter 14 — Paradise......................................................................................…......... 320
Chapter 15 — Cheyenne............................................................................................... 345
Chapter 16 — Origins.................................................................................……................ 365
Chapter 1: Celebration
The helicopter cut low across the terrain, skimming the treetops, its shadow gliding over the canopy as narrow streams reflected the light below.
He checked his watch. Two minutes out. The request had come through that morning. Routine—six males and six females for labor detail.
The rotor beat the air with a rhythmic, low-frequency thump that grew louder as they neared the landing point. Equipment rattled and shifted.
The team was on high alert, prepared for any contingency.
Alexander activated his headset.
“Positions.”
“Miller, flank right. Schmitty, left.” He raised two fingers. “On touchdown.”
The helicopter dropped quickly through the trees, hovering above the clearing before the skids touched the ground.
The team was off in seconds. Black uniforms absorbed the dust, faces hidden behind masks and visors. They spread in an arc, weapons raised.
The first shots rang out—controlled bursts, wide, fired into the air.
The response was immediate. Movement collapsed. Settlers dropped to the ground, hands raised or pressed flat against the dirt. A few hesitated, unsure whether to run or freeze, until another round cracked overhead. That settled it.
They advanced as a unit. No one broke formation or rushed. Fear did the work for them.
The soldiers spread out methodically, checking huts and other structures for any villagers who might be hiding. One by one, they dragged them back to the center with the others.
Alexander stepped forward and scanned the group, watching their posture, the way their weight shifted. As he pointed, villagers were pulled forward and bound.
A woman cried out as a soldier reached for her arm.
“Leave her,” he said. “She’s too old.”
“She’s able,”
“She’s not useful. Not now.”
He released her and stepped back.
When someone resisted, they were pushed down and left there. No one was dragged farther than necessary. Children were ignored.
On the far side of the group, a young woman lifted her head. A soldier struck her—more irritation than force, but enough to send her to the ground.
“There’s no point in that. We have what we came for.”
He hesitated, nodded, and stepped away.
At the perimeter, the rest of the group remained where they were—kneeling, crouching.
Bindings checked. Heads lowered. The selected workers were moved toward the aircraft and hoisted aboard.
No one spoke.
No one followed.
The helicopter lifted, dust rolling outward in widening rings.
The ground receded until the village faded from sight.
“Home,” he said.
The next day was routine. When class ended, they left with the last group of students. Voices faded as the crowd dispersed along the walkways. The light dimmed, casting shadows across the stone paths.
Elise walked with her bag tucked close. “You seem a little nervous today. It’s not like you.”
Alexander looked away. “I skipped breakfast this morning. Maybe my blood sugar’s a little low.”
“That last section of the lecture felt rushed,” she said. “I don’t think he realized how many people were lost.”
“He skipped a lot of material. You could feel it when the room got quiet.”
“You always notice those things.”
“Yeah, I suppose so.”
They walked on. The campus noise faded behind them, replaced by the softer sounds of footsteps and distant traffic.
He checked his watch. “Let’s get something to eat.”
“I can’t right now.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve got a report to write.” She adjusted her shoulder strap. “I wanted to get it done early.”
They reached the corner where their paths split.
“I’ll help you with it later.”
“No, I need to get this done so it’s behind me.”
His insistence bothered her.
“I really want to talk to you.”
That caught her attention. “About what?”
“It’s important.”
She studied him nervously, hoping it wasn’t bad news. “Okay.”
They turned back together.
The restaurant was busy when they stepped inside. Quiet conversation, clinking glasses, the smell of warm bread and oil. It was comfortable, but not casual.
As they were shown to their table, Elise asked, “Did they get a piano?”
“Looks like it.”
He pulled out her chair as they sat, setting their bags on the empty chairs. The table was bare except for folded napkins and the reflection of light on the crystal glasses.
She folded her hands on the table.
“So, you wanted to talk to me?”
He didn’t look away, caught up in the anticipation of what was to come.
“Yes, I do, but let’s wait until after dinner.”
Two students approached. “Alexander, my apologies for the interruption. I have a question.”
“Sure—go ahead.”
“I am scheduled to take either advanced tactical operations or advanced field survival.”
“I was advised you were the best person to ask.”
“Were they tough classes?”
“Both are demanding. You’ll do fine if you’re prepared.”
“Thank you for your help. I value your opinion.”
After the student left, the table felt more intimate.
“Well—what is it?” she asked.
“Let’s eat first.”
A server arrived promptly. His armband was white, the cloth worn thin at the edges, and the fasteners dulled from use.
He set the water on the table and adjusted the glasses until they were symmetrical. His hands trembled.
“You don’t have to be nervous.”
He nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Elise raised her eyebrows and smiled as he stepped away. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Do what?”
“Reassure them.” She picked up the menu.
“They’ll be more efficient if they’re relaxed.”
Other diners had noticed them. Not staring—aware of them. A brief pause in conversation, a glance their way.
“They know who you are,” she said.
He frowned. “They don’t.”
“Of course they do. They can see your armband.”
“They know what a silver armband represents.”
The server returned with bread. As he set the basket down, a plate slipped, landing on the table—he froze.
From across the room, a voice—sharp, irritated. “Watch what you’re doing.”
He flushed. “I’m sorry, sir.”
“It’s not difficult,” the voice snapped.
Alexander turned in his chair. “It’s fine. Nothing spilled.”
The voice hesitated.
The server glanced at him, puzzled.
“I said it’s fine. It was an accident. It’s okay.”
He nodded. “Thank you, sir.” Relief flashed across his face before he moved away.
She waited until he was gone. “You shouldn’t interfere.”
“I didn’t interfere.”
“They corrected him.”
“He made a mistake.”
“He’s a worker,” she said.
“That’s how they learn.”
“They learn better when they’re not humiliated.”
She studied him. “You analyze everything.”
“Sometimes.”
“You’re going to get a reputation.”
“I already have one.”
“Yeah,” she said. “But not that kind.”
Their meals arrived promptly. He waited at the table. “Is there anything else you require, sir?”
He relaxed before stepping away. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate that.”
He cut into his food.
They ate in silence for a few moments.
“This place will be different after graduation,” Elise said.
“How so?”
“Imagine what it’ll be like when we walk in with our gold armbands after graduation.”
“I know.”
She reached across the table and took his hand. “You won’t have to worry about anything ever again.”
“I’m not worried now.”
“You should be excited.”
“I am.”
She smiled, satisfied. “Good.”
“I love you,” she said.
He didn’t hesitate. “I love you too.”
“I’m glad to hear that. When you said it was important… I thought you were going to break up with me.”
“Not a chance.”
The restaurant's murmur surrounded them. Dishes clinked softly, chairs shifted, and muted conversation filled the room.
He leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head, elbows widening before letting them fall back. The movement appeared spontaneous, almost lazy. His eyes drifted toward the seated piano player.
The pianist began to play.
She turned in her chair, surprised by the sudden clarity of the sound. The opening notes were familiar, gentle, and steadily unfolding.
Her index finger pointed, as if she were scolding, but moving to the beat of the music.
Her face lit up. “Oh, that’s my favorite song.”
She listened, smiling.
Her shoulders relaxed as the melody played on.
“Did you do that?”
He shrugged. “Maybe.”
She studied him, unsure whether he was teasing or deflecting. The music drew her attention back before she could press further. The pianist was outstanding, not only hitting the right notes but giving them life and letting the silence resonate.
Two violinists rose from nearby tables, instruments in hand. Elise didn’t notice at first; the sound deepened as the layers merged. She turned again, startled to see them standing.
Her eyes widened.
“Okay…” Her voice warmed. “Now, this is suspicious.”
He watched her.
The music swelled, filling the space between the tables. Conversations softened, and attention drifted toward their table in the center of the room. She sat very still, caught between delight and disbelief.
She beamed at him in surprise. Her expression changed as understanding gradually took shape.
The server approached, carrying a large bouquet of red roses, bright blooms standing out against the white wrapping. He set them in a crystal vase on the table.
She blinked. “What’s this?”
He stood.
She thought he was adjusting his chair. He stepped around the table and lowered himself onto one knee.
The room focused on them. The music continued, steady and warm.
He held out an open box containing a small golden ring with a single diamond in the center, light glistening off the stone.
“Elise,” his voice steady as his hands gripped the box tightly. “Will you marry me?”
Her gasp was short and sharp. She didn’t move, eyes overflowed with tears of happiness, unable to hold them back.
“Yes,” she said, laughing through the tears.
“Yes—of course I will.”
He stood as she pulled him toward her. Arms wrapped around his shoulders as they laughed, the tension dissolving into relief. They kissed briefly at first, then again. The music continued, the room warmed, now quieter but alive with shared attention.
When they sat again, she kept hold of his hand, turning the ring in the light as if she needed to convince herself it was real.
The server returned with a small cart and placed two glasses on the table. He removed a bottle of champagne from a bucket of ice, popped the cork, poured, then stepped away. Leaving them alone in the moment.
She looked at him across the table, eyes bright, still breathless, smiling in a way that felt new.
He took a slow breath, raising his glass to hers before touching. They each took a sip, set their glasses down, stood, and reached for their bags, which they’d left on the chair.
They slipped out together, leaving the warmth and noise of the restaurant behind.
Outside, the air felt cool.
She slipped her arm through his. “You were very gracious back there.”
“Was I not trying to be?”
She hesitated, shaking her head. “No. You were.”
They walked out together without looking back.
“Come with me, I need to get some shampoo,” she said.
“I can’t. I have a two o’clock appointment at the clinic.”
“It’ll only take a minute. It's on the way. I’ll come with you to the clinic, perhaps they can test both of us together?”
They entered a small drugstore. The shelves were half empty. Not just shampoo—everything along the walls had been picked over.
Elise approached the clerk, who was patiently waiting behind the counter. “I don’t see any shampoo on the shelves. Do you have any in stock?”
“No, ma'am.” She said. “The department that makes personal care products refused to work. Manufacturing halted, transport followed, and whatever inventory was sitting in storage ran out in a few days.”
“All this from one stoppage?”
“The workers do everything,” she said. “They make them, pack them, and ship them. When they stop, it all stops.”
“It’s still hard to imagine it failing,” she said. “The country runs all the way west to the ocean. Cities, factories, farms…everything is connected. People assume it will always be there for them.”
“And if the workers decide otherwise?”
She lifted one shoulder. “The system reminds them who’s in charge.”
“So, what happens now?”
She shrugged. “The authorities will go in. They always do. Force production back online.” A pause. “They can be… effective.”
Alexander watched her. “Brutally.”
“Sometimes.”
“Let’s go,” he said.
They snaked through the side passages behind the instructional halls. The noise of the grounds faded. The drone of the central heating system replaced voices and footsteps as they moved inside.
“You’re not nervous anymore?” she said.
“I’m not.”
“Good, neither am I.”
The clinic didn’t stand out. No sign, just a shift in light and temperature as the door slid closed behind them.
Inside, everything was pale and orderly—seamless walls, silent floors, and filtered air.
A medical technician waited near the center of the room, older than most, with gray hair.
“Alexander, Elise,” he said, extending his hand. “Thank you for coming.”
He shook it. The grip was firm and familiar.
“We weren’t expecting you.”
“Since she’s here, could you test both of us?”
“There’s no reason to separate you. You’ve been here for twenty-five years, and you’re scheduled to graduate together. It would simplify things if we did both tests together.”
“The biological assessment is the final prerequisite. With that completed, there’s nothing left but coursework and review.”
The examination platforms were set side by side, recessed into a separate bench.
“Please. This won’t take long.”
Elise sat first, folding her hands in her lap. Alexander joined her at the next platform.
He stepped forward, holding a handheld scanner.
“If you’ll place your arm here, we can begin.”
She did. A soft glow passed beneath her skin. He nodded and made a note.
Alexander followed, resting his palm against the surface. The panel warmed beneath his wrist.
His scan took slightly longer than Elise’s.
He remained still while the tech adjusted the device and continued the procedure.
As the light faded, he set the instrument back on the table.
“Thank you. That will be all for today.”
She smiled. “That’s it?”
“The data will be processed and reviewed. You’ll be notified when the results are finalized.”
“How long before we get the results?” he asked.
“Not long, maybe later today. It depends on how detailed the analysis needs to be.”
He nodded. “Understood.”
“There’s nothing to be concerned about. This is routine.”
Elise fastened her armband.
He did the same, but with greater care.
“Oh, I almost forgot.”
“Your brother…” he paused, correcting himself.
“Your stepbrother was admitted to the ICU this morning.”
He stopped. “What happened?”
“He’s asking for you. It would mean a great deal to him if you came.”
She frowned. “Is he stable?”
“Yes,” the administrator said.
“I’ll stop by when I get some free time later today.”
She slipped her hand into his as they walked. “You should,” she said. “We grew up together, and he’s your best friend.”
He glanced ahead down the corridor.
“Yes,” he said. “We did.”
They spent the next hour on a bench along the upper walkway, talking.
A messenger from the director’s office found them in the late afternoon.
“Alexander. The director would like to see both of you in his office. He wishes to discuss something with you.”
He glanced at Elise.
The director’s office overlooked the central grounds.
The spacious lawns, already marked with pale lines that meant nothing now. Soon, they would host enormous crowds at the upcoming centennial celebration.
The director stood as they entered, smiling in a way that suggested familiarity without intimacy.
“Six months,” he said after the door closed behind them. “That’s all that’s left.”
He nodded. Elise listened closely.
“The centennial ceremony will be unlike anything in living memory—crowds beyond the outer districts and delegations from every region. The transition into the 100th year is both symbolic and essential. You’ll be there, on the platform. Visible.”
He paused, letting the words sink in.
“The Supreme Commander will address the assembly. These moments stay with people. They remember where they were when they saw it.”
“I’m honored,” he said.
“As you should be. People must see continuity so they become accustomed to it.”
He turned to Elise. “You’ll be there as well.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“We’ve arranged a private tour for tomorrow. I want you to understand the scale of what’s being prepared.”
The following morning, a vehicle arrived precisely at dawn.
Its interior was sealed off from the sounds of the city. As they traveled, the district thinned, giving way to open ground and temporary structures. Massive video screens stood dark for now, awaiting content. The guide pointed them out as they passed. A gigantic photograph of the Supreme Commander loomed over the entrance, as it always had.
“Banners will hang here, while the eastern approach will be reserved for the procession. Fireworks will be set off along the western ridge, and an air show will precede the commander’s speech. The entire event has been meticulously planned.”
He tried to imagine it. Sound, movement, color—but the emptiness eluded him. It felt too clean, too early.
Still, the 100th anniversary was more than a celebration. It was the culmination—the proof that the founders’ vision had endured.
“They walked toward the center of the grounds, the space spreading symmetrically outward with walkways radiating from the plaza, all leading outward.”
“The platform will be raised here. The Supreme Commander, senior ministers, and invited observers will all attend.”
“Visibility matters,” he said, pointing toward the center of the plaza.
Alexander nodded, committing its shape to memory.
The Hall of Ancestors rose beyond the plaza, its stone façade unadorned and its ornate doors already open.
Inside, the air felt icy. The narrow hallway muffled their footsteps. Light filtered down from above, diffuse and dim, touching the walls.
Large portraits were spaced at exact intervals and hung on the wall, each in identical frames.
They were formally composed, but the originals carried greater weight, not in expression, but in their combined force.
The guide strolled ahead, hands clasped behind his back.
“This is the lineage. The succession of our ancestors.”
He had seen copies; so had everyone.
One portrait after another, the years merged into the present.
As they walked, Elise moved closer, grasping his hand.
“The early years were unstable. Leadership had to be decisive. That pattern was established.”
Alexander studied their faces as he passed each portrait, unsettled by the coldness in their expressions. He noticed the sameness first—the stance, the gaze, the way authority was carried with tranquility. He noticed the differences in age, composure, and style. Time eroded the illusion of uniformity.
They reached the far end of the hall, where the final portrait stood alone.
He stopped.
“This was the beginning.”
Alexander examined the canvas. It was older than the others. The paint was darker; the surface worn in places where restoration was preserved rather than renewed. The figure was plainly rendered, almost stark.
No embellishment.
He peered into the pale blue eyes—cold and piercing, raising the hair on the back of his neck.
“Of course,” he added, “you’ve already seen this.”
Entranced by the founders’ eyes, he was brought back to awareness by the guide’s voice.
“But I thought you should see it. The original gives it more meaning.”
“This is the founder of the empire, the builder and designer of this nation,” he said, gesturing toward the painting. “All this was possible because of him and his philosophy.”
He stood, intently staring at the portrait.
He turned and led them back the way they had come. “Discipline. Vision. Continuity. Keep those principles, and you won’t go wrong.”
“Someday you may be expected to embody them.”
He felt the words land—heavy, distant, as if spoken through glass.
“Do your work,” he said. “Be precise. Be reliable. Success follows preparation.”
By the time they returned to the vehicle, it was afternoon.
He glanced back as the doors closed behind them. “It was an honor to share this with you, sir. You have a promising future ahead of you.”
“Thanks for your time.”
The vehicle pulled away, leaving the hall behind.
After dusk, there was a knock on the door.
He pushed his chair back from his desk and stood, more surprised by the timing than the sound. Evening hours were usually quiet—study, review, and preparation for the next day. He straightened his jacket and crossed the room, opening the door.
A messenger stood in the corridor.
“Sir, the director needs to see you now.”
He frowned. “Is something wrong?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
That answer bothered him.
The messenger turned away without another word.
He searched for context as he walked. A reassignment, perhaps. A mission update. Nothing urgent enough to warrant a summons at this hour.
The office door stood open.
“Come in.”
He entered and came to attention. The director sat behind his desk, fingers interlaced, eyes fixed on a screen that went dark as he approached.
“Sit.”
He obeyed.
He hesitated for a moment.
That alone felt wrong.
“We’ve received the final results of your biological testing.” That eased his mind, and he relaxed almost imperceptibly. He had expected a formal acknowledgment, perhaps a notation in the record.
“There’s been a complication.”
“With the process?”
“With the results.”
The director activated the desk display, glanced at it once more, then deactivated it.
“We ran the analysis multiple times. We even conducted an independent verification. The conclusion was definitive.”
He waited, hands at his sides.
“You carry an impurity marker in your ancestry. Two generations removed, your grandmother.”
The words were confusing at first.
“That’s not possible.”
“It is.”
“I don’t have a grandmother.”
“Yes, you do.”
“You never met her or your mother. Your parents were selected genetic contributors. After your birth, you were transferred to institutional guardianship, and you were raised by the state.”
Alexander felt something tighten in his chest, a narrowing, as if the room were drawing inward.
“My parents. They were citizens.”
“They were, but your grandmother was not.”
He paused, calm and precise. “The ancestry marker lies outside the citizen line. The reclassification is mandatory. If I could make an exception, I would. You know that.”
“So… what does this mean?”
“You are disqualified from citizenship. From graduation.”
The room lost depth. Sounds flattened.
He felt as though he were watching the exchange from a short distance.
“You will be reassigned to worker status and issued a white armband.”
He did not respond.
“The reclassification will be finalized in forty-eight hours after a full review. At your rank, procedure requires it. You will retain full rank and authority until then.”
He nodded. The motion felt delayed, as if the signal had traveled through a thick fog.
“Why wait?”
“Because you’re still the most capable officer available for tomorrow’s operation.”
“Sector Five needs four female workers. A small village. Four females only. No more than minor resistance is expected. You’ll lead the extraction and return.”
“A routine mission, clean and familiar.”
“When do I deploy?”
“First light.”
“Alexander, are you listening?”
“Sorry, sir.”
“We raised you here—you’re like a son to me,” a slight tear formed in his eye. “We didn’t have the technology to detect the impurity twenty-five years ago, when you were conceived.”
“There is one more thing.”
He waited.
“Peter’s condition has worsened. He’s been asking for you. I suggest you visit him before you leave.”
His movements were slower now, though he did not consciously notice the change.
“Yes, sir.”
At the door, the director spoke again. “Alexander.”
He turned to listen.
“I want you to understand that none of this changes how I feel about you. I’ll get you assigned here, where you belong.”
He did not trust himself to answer.
By the time he reached the stairwell, the weight of it was registering.
The corridor outside looked unchanged. Cadets passed him as he returned their nods.
He sat on his bed, hands covering his face. He found himself blankly staring out a narrow window. The grounds below were quiet at this hour. A maintenance crew moved methodically across the courtyard, performing their evening tasks.
He had been sitting there for some time, withdrawn.
There was a knock at the door.
“Come in,” his voice was flat.
Elise stepped inside, bright as ever, the contrast stark. She smiled when she saw him. The smile faded when he didn’t rise.
“There you are. I heard the director pulled you in early.”
“Yes.”
“Well?” she said, hands on her hips. “What did he want?”
He gazed back toward the window. “It was nothing.”
Her voice was hesitant and concerned. “Alexander?”
“Everything’s okay. It’s nothing.”
“You’re lying. You’re terrible at it.”
He exhaled. “I don’t feel like talking about it.”
She crossed the room and sat beside him. “You don’t get to say that anymore. Not now.”
He didn’t respond.
“Elise, you won’t like this.”
She leaned in. “Tell me.”
He waited before answering.
“There was an issue with my testing.”
“An impurity.”
“That’s not possible.”
“It is.”
“From where?”
“My ancestry. From my grandmother.”
“But how?”
“I didn’t know.”
She looked at him, then turned away. “What does that mean?”
“I won’t graduate. They’ll reclassify me as a worker.”
The words sounded distant, even to him.
She stood, took a step back, then another.
“That can’t be right. They’ll appeal it. Someone will?”
“They won’t.”
They briefly sat in silence.
“Alexander… we can’t get married.”
He turned to her. “Why?”
She was stricken. “If I do, I lose everything. I’ll lose my citizenship, and they’ll classify me as a worker.”
“I see.”
She waited for anger.
For disbelief.
For protest.
None came.
“I hope… I hope you understand.”
He didn’t answer.
With fists clenched at her sides, she gasped before speaking.
“I didn’t want this,” the words fragmented. “I really didn’t.”
He watched her, searching for a hint of doubt that never came. Still, he was resigned to his present reality.
Her voice failed. She shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks, one hand rising to cover her mouth as if embarrassed by her overt display of emotion. “I’m sorry. I can’t—”
She turned abruptly, threw the ring on the ground, and left, running down the steps and into the darkness. The door swung shut behind her with more force than she had intended. The sound echoed, then faded, leaving the room feeling smaller without her.
He bent down, picked up the ring, and slipped it into his pocket.
He sat long after the last trace of movement had vanished, staring at the place where she had been. When he stood, the motion felt disconnected, as if it had belonged to someone else.
He retrieved his jacket, put it on without adjusting it, then left for the hospital.
The hospital wing was quiet, with subdued lighting. He moved through it unhurriedly, distracted by the events that had preceded.
Peter’s room was at the end of the corridor.
He knocked quietly, then entered.
Peter lay propped against the bed, thinner than he had remembered. His skin looked almost translucent under the lights.
“Alexander,” Peter said with a weak smile. “You made it.”
“Of course.”
He pulled the chair closer, then sat down.
“They still won’t tell me what’s wrong. Tests, monitoring. Same answers every day.”
“Do they know?”
“I think so. They don’t want to say it.”
He lowered his gaze. “A lot of people have been… disappearing.”
“They wouldn’t do that.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“You’re not yourself today.”
He tried to answer, but struggled to gather his thoughts.
“I’m leading a routine mission tomorrow.”
“What’s the mission?”
Alexander stared past him without answering.
“What was that?”
“I said, ‘What’s the mission?’”
Peter’s smile faded. “You’re worried about me, aren’t you?”
He stared in Peter’s direction, eyes unfocused. A tear slipped free before he realized it had formed.
Peter reached out, gripping his forearm. “Hey. Don’t do that. I’ll be okay.”
He wiped his face without looking directly at him.
“It’s nothing.”
Peter squeezed his arm. “I know this is hard for you.”
He said nothing.
Everything was becoming a struggle—thoughts dragged, his body slow to respond.
“I’ll come back.”
“I know you will,” Peter’s smile faded.
He left the room and walked down the corridor before realizing he wasn’t sure where he was going. He stopped, reoriented himself, and continued.
Back in his room, he lay down, fully clothed.
Sleep was restless.