Date: Monday 4 February 2041ce 1110z
Location: Last World Citadel, Louisville, Kentucky (-0500)
Chaplain Brother Michael Dhillon was tired of the routine, though never would he say so.
He stepped from his apartment into the hallway; Three other doors opened at approximately the same time.
“Good morning, Aaron,” he said as the blond-haired athlete walked up.
“Michael,” Aaron replied.
Michelle came up behind Aaron, and more greetings were exchanged as they started down the hall together.
Shannon approached the elevators from the other side, and more platitudes followed.
Why do we pretend?
The niceties of it were barely within his ability to continue; After four years of competing with one another, Michael felt, the Chaplains were now in the final game.
They each knew the prophecy, and each knew that the others were special, too.
The Hammer of God stands here…
The chime rang.
…waiting for the elevator.
They entered to arriving car, riding it down to the first floor.
Michael considered Shannon from the edge of his site, had no doubt that she’d make a great commander.
But you’re no leader.
Shannon, of course, was born into duty to the church; While he had heard rumors about the Marshal family being descendants of holy knights cast from the Catholic Church for taking a true stand against evil, it was the historical research presented by Doctor Cavanaugh that convinced him it was true. And while he could appreciate her desire to live up to her family’s legacy, there had also been an unspoken assumption that she was de facto leader of the Chaplains among students and congregates alike.
Nepotism, he believed, was a relic of Old Earth.
Michael dreamed of ending the routine.