The Verum Trilogy - Survivor

Chapter 10

"Wait here."

Locke stopped Bree with a hand before entering the commander's office, closing the door behind him.

Dany glanced up as he walked in.

"Sergeant Fleming," she greeted him.

"Breana Avery," he said shortly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Any new developments?" she asked. "Your reports said she was improving."

"Yes, Ma'am. Last night, she told me Verum never stole an egg from the Citadel. Her version of that night goes against everything we think we know about this war, about the deathling, all of it. What concerns me the most is that what she's saying makes sense. It lines up with all the events that led to the siege on Verum."

"Locke," she told him gently. "She was all of what, nine years old?"

"You asked me to find out what she knew," he answered, a note of ice entering his voice. "If we—" he abruptly cut himself off, something about the commander's words sending a niggling sense of alarm through him. The commander knew she was nine during the attack, which had to mean seven years later, she was...

"She's fifteen years old, Ma'am." Locke's eyes narrowed when his commander didn't say anything. "You already knew," he accused, and she nodded.

"I did."

"How could the corps get consent from a recruit that isn't a legal adult?" he demanded.

"Well," Dany sighed, setting her pen down on the desk. "We didn't. She was placed here on Colonel Blackwell's orders."

If he had not been staring directly at his commander he would not have believed the words that just left her mouth. He suddenly wanted to eat every caustic line he'd hurled at Bree for not trying hard enough, for acting like she didn't want to be here. She had never had a choice. Dany met his eyes.

"When the Colonel found a war orphan circulating our childcare system that had Verumese demographics, we were assigned to collect her. Normally she would be turned over to intelligence, but after her physical he redirected her to us."

Locke waited, heartbeat pounding in his ears. The Rider Corps was the most elite force in the State, and they had just accepted a conscripted fifteen-year-old convinced it was her own personal death sentence.

"They conducted her physical assessment and found dragonscale burns on her palms. Which means she either met a feral dragon willing to let her get close enough to touch, or... she held a deathling dragon egg. Which option do you find more likely?"

Locke was speechless.

"She was redirected here because while intelligence deals in politics, Riders are the sole experts on dragons, and she is safer being adopted into our ranks than rotting in interrogation for an experience from her childhood she likely doesn't even understand. It was a mercy, Locke. Not a punishment."

"She thinks she was sent here to die," he told her quietly. Dany's eyes flashed as she sucked in a sharp breath.

"That is not—"

"The Rider Corps is not a prisoner of war camp," he interrupted her harshly. "Our job is to create the best soldiers in the state, not pick apart the worst memories of a kid—"

"Sergeant Locke," she interrupted softly. "When was the last time you slept?"

Rage boiled up swiftly inside of him, blood rushing to his cheeks.

"Ma'am, with all due respect, this program is doing nothing but traumatizing a fifteen-year-old girl who has spent the last three weeks terrified of us—"

"I understand that—"

"I don't think you do!" he shouted, and Captain Kaestner stood abruptly, slamming her hands down on her desk.

"Sergeant Fleming!" she raised her voice. "Compose yourself!"

He had to consciously work to hold his tongue, jaw aching. His commander rubbed her eyes with a heavy sigh.

"I'm removing her from your team. Another team lead will look after her from here on out—"

"Ma'am!" he protested, and she raised her hand, cutting him off.

"You're too close to this, Locke. It's natural to care for your recruits, but bias is dangerous here. I will hear the girl out, but in the meantime I suggest you get some sleep and think about your place in this program, specifically under my command." Dany sat back down. "I'll expect your next report to cover everything you learned last night. Send her in on your way out."

He glared at her for several seconds before turning and ripping open the door, only to be stopped short by his brother, hand raised to knock. Soren stared at him in surprise.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Getting sent to take a fucking nap. Ma'am wants to see Avery before you go in."

Soren stared at him quizzically.

"Have you told her that?" he asked, and it was Locke's turn to look confused. "I brought her with me, Soren."

Soren swore under his breath.

"I thought she was late for midterm spars, Locke, she was headed toward the combatives field when I was on my way here."

Locke peered around his brother, a sinking feeling settling in his stomach at the empty chair sitting behind him.

"Not this shit again," he groaned under his breath.