cringed, and sit on a free chair. Luke positions himself on my left and Jasper on my right, both grabbing my hand and making circles in my palm with their thumbs. It is a simple gesture, insignificant a priori, but that miss me immediately when the steps of the general are heard in the corridor, forcing my friends to relax their grip to avoid the wrath of the one who prohibited any rapprochement within the 'unit. In his eyes, even a sign of friendly affection is unacceptable. We are colleagues and our relationships must remain professional. It’s a high-ranking reflection that never leaves his buttocks out of his office! What sensible person would confide his life to a stranger? Because a co-worker, without any emotional bond, in the end, comes down to being a stranger.
Chapter 3
Dakota
I don't have much in common with the general. In any case, physically, we cannot say that the resemblance is striking. Robert Jones' physique is as austere as his character. His face seems to be cut with a billhook with strict, angular features with no beard. His hair is cut in a short brush without the slightest hair sticking out like a high-ranking military man should be. As for his outfit, he obviously wears the official costume that suits a general, a costume without any wrinkles. It looks like he was dipped in starch to be excessively rigid, like his posture. I would say that I got from my mother, but I have no picture of her and my father refuses to tell me. After two unsuccessful attempts which ended in humiliation, I gave up. I still have the hope that I have been adopted and that one day my real parents will come to pick me up. I imagine it’s the little girl inside me who still hopes to have parents who love her.
However, for the moment, it is the adult who is in this room, squaring the shoulders, waiting for the admonition which will not be long. The general watches us with his stern look, which, matched his dark bottomless eyes, gives me shivers down my spine. Surprisingly, I am more on my guard in his presence than in the midst of demons capable of cutting me into pieces. Go find out why!
— Dakota, you were late, as usual. I thought I had educated you better. Punctuality is a virtue and your name should not give you any free hand.
It starts well. What was it, 30 seconds late? And I was in the meeting room before his arrival it seems to me, so what's the problem? I know, I exist. That's the concern. Against all odds, he needs me and he hates it as much as he can't bear me. Besides, he never looks me in the eye. They say the eyes are the windows of the soul. What is he afraid of finding in mine to avoid contact systematically?
— Sorry, general.
I grit one's teeth on this appellation. I know this is the norm in the military, people are named by rank and if it was only in public it wouldn't bother me more than that. Only, he demands that I call him general from as far back as I can remember. He always refused that i call him daddy, as if he didn't consider me as his daughter, which leaves a bitter taste in my mouth when he claims my education. The first time I called a man daddy was to tease George a countless sermon. It is pathetic.
— Well, don't let it happen again. Now let's start the debriefing. Commander ?
George scrapes his throat to clear his throat and relate our mission, omitting a few details that would have gotten me in trouble again.
— Anything else to report?
He squinted, suspicious. He suspects that there were omissions in the story, it seems. But against all odds, no one opens mouths. Visibly this does not please to the general who is strumming on the table, his nervous tic when events do not fit as he desired.
— I studied the video of the surveillance glasses before summoning you. I watched the pictures very carefully.
Fortunately, the glasses are only eyes and not ears and my ear-flap is only used to communicate, without recording anything, or I would have taken it for my regimental.
— As much to tell you immediately that I expected to have the corpse of a serpieusson in the morgue at this time. So explain to me why this is not the case.
It’s Russel who takes over.
— Not a threat? However, I saw this monster hanging Dakota by the feet. Even without the sound, I can assure you that it wasn’t his cordial way of greeting her. So tell me now why you didn't cut this creature to pieces, Dakota. What are your weapons for? Decoration? That's it, the facts are clear, for the general, I am wrong. Whatever I say now, he will consider that I made a mistake. The compassionate look of Luke indicates that he has reached the same conclusion then me. It’s very gratifying. I approach a neutral face, the one I worked on all my childhood to hide my emotions from him, to explain the reasons for my clemency, but inside, I boiling.
— The serpieusson did not appreciate my intrusion into its territory, which is a normal, instinctive reaction, but I quickly made him hear reason and he cooperated without arguing afterwards.
The general frowns as I feel the situation get worse with each of his remarks.
— How did you make him understand reason?
I refuse to answer this question. I can't stand the lie, it's visceral, I hate it, but I have no illusions, if I inform him that I gave my name to a demon, he will treat me unconscious and order to kill said demon, supposedly to protect everyone. It is true that to give one's identity to a demon of hell is to give him the power to do us a lot of harm. He can then track us just by whispering our name and thinking of us, allowing him to enter insurmountable places, like the base of Fort Benning, to name a few, and suddenly, to kill us in our sleep, at the same time. This, therefore, is a mark of trust between a human and a demon. The serpieusson has done the same by giving me one of its scales, but I also do not intend to give this information to my father where again, it will turn against me. My obstinate silence is not really to his liking.
— I order you to answer your general.
Orders, more orders, still orders. He can only give orders anyway! Luke comes to my rescue before the situation gets out of hand and I get angry too, causing me a lot of trouble again.
— She simply explained to him that we only wanted to find him a territory less exposed to the human world and he agreed to follow us.
The general laughs and it is not pleasant.
— He decided to follow you of his own free will like a nice doggie?
— Exactly.
My father falls heavily into his chair, which cracks in reprisal. He is not fooled, but without proof, he can do nothing against our solidarity.
— This will be the official version of your report commander?
— Absolutely. This is how the facts unfolded.
I silently thank George for falsifying his report to save my butt. My teammates do not save me only on the field, they also do it in everyday life by serving as a bulwark between my father, and the world in general, and me.
— I'm passing things this time, but at the next misdemeanor, Dakota , you'll end up in the dungeon.
You would think he was doing me a favor, only, it was just a disguised threat. I’m sure he’s not kidding. It’s his way of directing the base. Just as disobedient prisoners who go to the hole, rebel soldiers like me end up in the dungeon. It looks like the Middle Ages. I have of course already spent a few stays in a cell, this is not the first time that I have upset him. My father keeps one moreover available just for me, my personal prison. I'm lucky. However, it is not the shock argument that will change my opinions. A cell measuring 2 by 2 meters with the only comfort of a metal berth and a toilet without any privacy will never change my deep convictions. In reality, what bothers me most about his punishments is not eating for the two days that it lasts. I am a fighter, my body, especially my muscles, needs protein to function. Each time I come out weak and Luke has to carry me and feed me. It’s the most humiliating thing in the end, and I think my dad got it, because he’s still waiting until I’m unable to support my weight to release me.
— let's carry on our meeting.
The general’s loud voice brings me back to the present moment brutally. So this