Page 37 of Silver Elite

My mind starts racing. I don’t know what’s more advantageous to me. If I fail, they might cut me from the Program. That would be the best-case scenario. However, it’s not as if the wards are teeming with potential candidates for the most elite block in the Command.Captain Cross won’t be cutting indiscriminately, especially based on what appears to be a random memory test.

On the other hand, if you can’t pass a simple memory test, do you trulybelongin the most elite block in the Command? If I were running this program, I wouldn’t want any idiots on my team. But I’m a heartless bitch. The people here might be more tolerant of failure.

“Darlington,” Ford barks. “This isn’t optional.”

I lower my gaze to the tablet. Damn it. Just choose already. Pass or fail.

Don’t draw attention to yourself.

He might be dead, but his voice lives in my head. Iknowthat would be Jim’s advice. So I grit my teeth and use my index finger to write on the screen in my messy scrawl.

There was a woman in this room when you sat down. What color was her shirt?

She wasn’t wearing a shirt. It was a dress, and it was white.

I tapnext.

On which ear did the woman have piercings?

Left ear.

Was she holding a tablet?

She wasn’t, but I writeyes.If the goal is to not draw attention to myself, then I’m neither choking nor shining. I can’t get everything right.

How many officers were in the room when you sat down?

I could writetwo.Instead, I write:

One officer and one massive prick.

I get three more wrong on purpose, then lean back in my chair as a score flashes on the screen: 60%.

Ford glances at his tablet and says, “Soldier Hutchfield. Stand up.”

At the table next to ours, a young woman with pale hair rises uncertainly.

“You’re dismissed. Report to your CO in Gold Block.”

Her mouth opens in surprise. “What? Why?”

“You’re dismissed,” he repeats.

“But—”

“I don’t have time to argue with you, soldier. You had your shot, you blew it. Pay attention next time.”

“That’s not fair!” she protests. “How were we supposed to know we would be tested on what clothes people were wearing and how many earrings they had?”

He sets his jaw. “You didn’t answer a single question correctly. If you’re this unobservant in a low-pressure setting, I don’t want you watching my six on a high-pressure op. You’re cut. Get the fuck out.”

The room goes dead silent. Then Hutchfield’s footsteps snap against the floor as she storms out.

Unperturbed, Ford recites more names. “Abernathy, Dern, Jasser, Kilmeade, Rhodes, Xinn. You also scored a zero. You’re dismissed. You’ll be going back to your wards.”

Hellfuck!

I made the wrong call.

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