Chapter Text
"I've got a project for you, McClain."
"I'm not interested in talking to you, sir," she says. "I'm not interested in talking to anyone from the Garrison right now. My little brother didn't die in a 'training accident.'"
"You're right. He didn't."
Veronica looks up at him in shock. He's the first Garrison higher-up that's given her anything other than empty, apologetic gestures.
"I've learned some things about this institution recently," Iverson continues, "about what it's willing to do to get what it wants and to save face. I'm sick of lying on behalf of this place. So I'll let you know that I've got strong reason to believe that your brother is out in deep space with a few other cadets, under the command of Lieutenant Adam Wasan."
"Stop fucking with me."
"Language, Ensign. But it's true. I told you, I'm done lying."
"He's out in deep space?" It's what Lance always wanted to do, true, but she was hoping he'd wait until he was older. And, you know, for an actual official Garrison mission and not whatever the heck this is.
"In a blue, cat-shaped vessel, yes."
"That blue thing that showed up a few hours after Commander Holt's codes were used for a false missile alarm?"
"I'm sure I don't want to know how you got ahold of that classified information," Iverson says, brow raised. "But yes, the very same."
"You're not fucking with me," Veronica says. It doesn't make sense, but it somehow still makes more sense than a "training accident," considering Lance hadn't even gotten out of the simulator and into a real vessel yet.
"I am not. But that's not what I'm here for." He produces a small tan dog—maybe a bull terrier?—from a carrier behind him. "Heard through the grapevine that you like dogs."
"Yeah," she says. "My mom is allergic, so I could never have one." Talk about emotional whiplash, where is this conversation going?
"Consider her yours, temporarily. She was taken from the Holt's house during a raid, and seeing as how both living Holts are nowhere to be found, she needs someone to take care of her. I'll write you up an excuse to keep her on base as an emotional support animal. God knows we could all use the support right about now."
"Sir?"
"Forget I said anything. Anyway, take good care of the dog. I've got a feeling the Holts will be back, sooner or later."
And with that, he's gone, leaving Veronica with a dog she doesn't even know the name of, cryptic, bizarre information about Lance's whereabouts, and the strangest conversation she's ever had with Commander Iverson.