Defying Terror

Chapter XLVII

28 August 2030

01:46 QCT

Nicolette Binet relaxes her heart-shaped face in her hand. Her exuberant, golden hair intertwines with her fingers and she sighs. "And so, that was the last time we ever spoke to them. A bunch of rats they are. We aren't even in the same industry as them and they want to treat us like shit."

I take a great swig of my drink and place it on the small table beside my sofa. "Lieutenant Hill's brother is married to one of the daughters. I think it's Lucia."

"Lucia, that tramp!" She shouts. "Kibre Hill is a creation from God, hand-crafted and everything. But he has horrible taste in women, that's for sure!"

I don't know how much time has passed since Nicolette Binet and I have escaped to Lord Cameron's bedroom. The last instance in which I read the grandfather clock near the wide, double set doors, it was about one-fifteen. But surely the moments have gone by since then.

Cameron Hyka, as unorderly as his personality is, he keeps his chambers tidy and neat. A wall-length pane of glass gives view out to a small balcony with only a single, orange light. Beyond that is the endless eastern ocean. The wallpaper, with its vined, floral design, is viridescent with a deep brown wooden trim toward the floor. Nicolette and I are seated at a small group of linen, egg-colored sofas, and chairs along the right wall. Beside me is a vintage record player, reminiscing of my younger years. The Lord's queen-sized bed, with the pillows against the enormous window, is smoothed out by flawless, white sheets. Untainted.

Though I detest the elitist nature of Nicolette and her family, I am actually enjoying myself. We have interchanged stories of our youth; though her tales are certainly happier than mine. I refrained from sharing the more personal stories, such as those inflicted by the Imperial Guard in my earlier years.

More specifically, I mentioned my journey from Ciella to Queen's City after living as a refugee for twelve long years. I was raised in a tent with my mother and brother, Robert before another man entered our lives. Soon, I had a half-sister, too. Our tent transformed into a sturdy, two-story house, but by then, we had collected enough money to move back into the big city. We left Ciella in the winter of 1995 and never turned back.

To my surprise, Nicolette found my story fascinating. I expected her to not care, but she proved me wrong. She is far different from the woman I first met out on the terrace with a poor attitude. She is engaging and had a plethora of amazing tales to disclose. She admits to not hiding behind her money like the rest of her family does, which I can respect.

My brain is starting to pound against my skull, especially after that third drink. I've had the wine from the patio and three glasses of whatever the hell I picked up on the bar on the way here. It's got to be some kind of liquor; nothing like I have ever tasted in my entire life. I took one bottle from the bartender at the end of the hall, and I've drunk every last drop of it. Nicolette has watched me indulge in it all, which is callow of me. Then again, she never once stopped me or asked me to pour some into her empty tumbler on the coffee table between us.

The fact is, I'm not exactly a lightweight. When I was poorly handling the vindictive situations of my early years, I would find solace at the bottom of a glass. Then two glasses. Then five. My record was eight before my wife, Abby, intimidated me into stopping as we were expecting Celestine in the next few months. So I came clean. I was sober for about seven years until my whole life fell apart again. And I was back to square one.

It shows just how fast everything you have ever known can evanesce.

Nicolette, the more abstinent of the both of us, inspects her fingernails, blotted a dark red to match her satin dress. "Where in the Empire have you been, Captain? You do a lot of traveling, right?"