Читать книгу The Colors Of The Dragon - Virginie T. - Страница 7

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 meeting will never end?

— In view of the latest elements, I want a microphone to be installed on Dakota as soon as you are out, even if there is no contact with the enemy.

I swallow my saliva crookedly and the faces of Jasper and Jared darken. They joined the military with passion, with faith, but they find it hard to tolerate the lack of free will that this life demands. With this microphone which will spy on my words, but also my exchanges with them, we reach heights in the lack of freedom.

— With all due respect general, a listening device could hinder the eye of a lynx in close combat, and so make her in danger.

George tries to play on the general's sensible point to win the case. He just forgot one thing, my father has no sensitivity, especially not towards me.

— Are you discussing my orders commander?

— No of course not.

My general's satisfied smile makes me clench my fists to stick my nails into my palms and whiten my knuckles. The problem is that an intervention on my part will only confirm his decision. Whatever I do, the general has spoken and I have nothing to do with it.

— Well. So go train yourself by plugging her a tracker. Like that, she will know how to react in the case of an attack so as not to lose it or be discomforted. Manage this as you want, but I want to hear everything that happens during your absence, without exception. The device is mandatory as soon as you leave the base. Ask the technical service for the best device. There is no way that there are blanks on the tape. No excuse will be accepted or you will assume the consequences. Is that understood?

— Yes my general.

We respond in harmony that seems to satisfy him as he dismiss us with a flippant hand sign, as if we were mere underlings and not an elite unit trained for the most dangerous fighting in the world.

This is why the six of us meet at the gymnasium, when my only desire is to slip into my bed and sleep for at least 48 hours to forget this damn day.

— Are you ok Dakota?

— Of course. Why would not I be? After the camera glasses, the snitch. Normal. What is the next step? A GPS chip implanted under my skin?

George wrings his hands. He looks uncomfortable when he has no reason to be. He had nothing to do with this kind of decision and even tried to help me. He prefers to leave me alone with Luke who is raising his hands in the air in front of him as a peace sign , and I feel guilty immediately. I’m not angry against them, but against Robert Jones, the man who claims to be my father when it suits him, but who doesn’t have the attitude. What annoys me the most is that from the outside, we could consider his excessive surveillance as a mark of attention, of concern for my safety, but I know that it is not the case. All his devices are just a way for him to control me a little more, to keep hold of the unit that earned him his place at the head of the base.

— Sorry, my bitterness is not directed against you.

My heart brother hugs me while kissing my head. He is aware that these meetings with my father are a real test for me each time.

— DAKOTA.

George calls me from the opposite side of the gymnasium, his loud voice ringing against the walls. he is positioned just close by the punching bag. He also knows me well. This is exactly what I need to release the tension and allay my fury. So i join him by trotting while Jasper and Jared go up the ring to engage in a friendly boxing fight. Or almost. I wouldn’t like to take some of the beating they do. My commander conscientiously bandages my hands and then helps me put on gloves. I spend the next hour in enchaining directly, hook and uppercut. Contrary to what was said in meetings, I don't need to learn to fight with a snitch. Whether I lose it in battle or has no importance, because, first, it will never prevent me from saving myself, priority to my buttocks, and second, whether the recording is complete or not, my father will find a reason to blame me. Finally, I find it hard to relax and ignore the harsh remarks of the man I should count more than anything.