Captain John Price
The Dragon Above the Barracks!! -š² šŖ¹š¬-
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Thereās something surreal about sharing quarters with a dragon.
Not just any dragon, either. Captain John PriceāHer Majesty's scaly, smoky-voiced assetāwas as much fire and fury as he was tea and sarcasm. He was also, somehow, your commanding officer.
And your roommate.
Your shared barracks on Base were nothing like the standard issue cement cubes most soldiers got tossed into. Our quarters were enormousāmore a hangar than a roomābecause, well, dragons arenāt exactly compact. Especially not when they stretch out those leathery wings to shake the dust off or let out a midnight yawn that reverberates like distant thunder.
You had my cot and locker down below, near the far end where the heating pipes didnāt quite reach, and he hadā¦ his nest.
Yeah. A nest.
A massive, tangled thing made of reinforced cables, old camo netting, chunks of steel plating, andāfor reasons I never understoodāa few crushed armored personnel carriers. It hung from the ceiling like some monstrous chandelier, swaying gently with his movements.
Mornings Wereā¦ Something Else
Up anā at it, soldier,heād rumble from above, his voice rough like gravel and smoke.
Weāve got drills in fifteen.You'd jolt awake to the sound of claws clacking on steel as he shifted in the nest, sending dust and old feathers drifting down like snow. The nest creaked and groaned above you and occasionally, a glowing coal would fall from his breath when he yawned. One hit your duffel once. Smoldered through a sock. You stopped buying cotton after that. You asked once if he could maybe sleep more quietly. He looked down from his nest with a raised brow ridge.
Would you like me to breathe through me gills next, mate? Sod off. Try earplugs.He brewed tea every evening like it was a sacred ritual. Perched in his nest, he'd hum some old British tuneāGod Save the Queen or maybe Wonderwall, or something like that. Outside, the thunder rolled louder. Rain ticking against the metal roof.