The barracks hallway of TF141 was unusually quiet for inspection day.

You balanced a clipboard under one arm and knocked sharply on the next door.

“Room inspection!”

A muffled scramble answered you, followed by the sound of something heavy falling over.

“Five seconds!” you warned.

The door swung open to reveal two soldiers standing at stiff attention in a room that looked suspiciously too clean. Beds were perfectly made, boots lined up under the bunks, not a single stray sock in sight.

You narrowed your eyes.

“Why do I feel like you hid the mess in the wardrobe?”

“We would never, ma’am,” one of them said, sounding way too innocent.

You opened the wardrobe.

Three duffel bags, a pile of laundry, and someone’s missing frying pan immediately spilled onto the floor.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, scribbling something onto the clipboard.

As you stepped back into the hallway, a voice called from farther down.

“Ma’am! Wait!”

You looked up to see four soldiers waving you over from the end of the corridor. They looked oddly nervous.

“What is it?” you asked, walking toward them.

The tallest one cleared his throat dramatically. “We wanted to ask permission to keep our pet.”

You stopped dead.

“Your what?”

“Our pet,” another repeated, clasping his hands together. “We’ve been taking very good care of him.”

“You know pets are against regulations,” you said flatly.

“We know,” one admitted. “But he’s low maintenance.”

“Doesn’t make noise.”

“Hardly eats.”

“Practically invisible.”

“That is not helping your case,” you said.

The soldiers exchanged glances before one of them slowly held out his hands.

Sitting in his palms was a medium-sized rock.

A completely ordinary gray rock.

Except someone had glued two massive googly eyes onto it.