Special Forces 01

by Honor Raconteur

  “Good morning, Arystair. Do you train every morning?”

  “Yes, sir.” Rys confirmed, heading for the fridge and pouring himself a tall glass of juice.

  Jeremy turned in his chair to watch him. “You startled me this morning when I went to check on you. Your bed was empty, and I couldn’t tell if it had been slept in or not.”

  Rys paused at this, giving his superior a puzzled look. “You checked on me? I didn’t realize that civilians had bed check.”

  “I check on all of my children first thing when I wake up in the morning,” Jeremy explained with obvious patience. “I also look in on them before I go to bed, and again if I happen to get up during the night. I sleep better knowing that everyone is safe and accounted for. What time did you get up?”

  “Five.”

  Jeremy winced. “I realize that you are used to military protocols, Arystair, but civilians normally don’t rise and shine that early.”

  “Yes, sir, but the truth is I have never been able to sleep very long. If I sleep more than six hours, I feel groggy and lethargic all day.” Rys drained the glass of orange juice in one long pull, without stopping to breathe. Wow, that was good! Was it real juice, instead of some powdery chemical concoction that you added water to? He went back to the fridge and retrieved the container. Yes, the label confirmed that it was real, contents “100% pure orange juice from concentrate.”

  Delighted by this discovery, he poured himself a second glass, hoping he wasn’t making a pig of himself. Having real juice was a rare treat.

  “Did you sleep well?”

  “Very well, thank you, sir.”

  “Good. Sara planned on taking you shopping about eight o’clock. All of the children will be at school by that time.”

  “Understood, I’ll be standing by.” Rys was trying to figure out what to wear that wouldn’t shout Uniform! Maybe he could wear the plain black fatigue pants and a black t-shirt?

  “And before I forget, there is an envelope over there with all of your banking and financial information in it. Your pay and allowances have been transferred to the Bijordan Credit Union in your personal account.”

  That was important information to have. Rys opened the envelope and rapidly scanned the papers. Everything appeared to be in order, and there was also a debit card inside, so he could conveniently access his funds. “That was fast,” he nodded to Jeremy, with approval. “I thought this might take at least another week to process.”

  “I encouraged them, so they made it a priority. All of 01 should have the same information by now. You shouldn’t have to worry about money if you need to buy something.”

  Rys smiled his thanks and slipped the card back into the envelope. He’d put it in his wallet right after he got cleaned up. He almost headed for the stairs but it occurred to him that no one else was around and this might be a rare chance to talk mission parameters. “Sir, I assume you’ve reviewed our plan from yesterday?”

  “Indeed I did. It seems like a sound approach. We do not, after all, have any idea what Nova is up to. In fact,” Jeremy grimaced, “the only reason we think they’re up to something is because of the delaying tactics their Ambassador is employing. I spoke briefly with Col. Pilgrim yesterday and he assured me that his team would analyze the low-priority targets so that all eventualities are covered.”

  Rys let out a covert breath of relief. “Understood, sir.”

  “He’s requested a contact point for each team so that they can keep each other updated. I wasn’t sure who you wanted to designate.”

  “Gremlin is my analyzer,” Rys admitted frankly. “I’d like to be cced on it, though. I think I speak for my brother captains as well on this. Everything can be forwarded to our computer geeks first.”

  Jeremy nodded in understanding. “I’ll forward you the man’s contact information so you can set it up.”

  “Yes, sir.” Before that, though…he rather stank. “I think I’ll grab a shower. Do you need my assistance on anything today?”

  Jeremy waved a hand, negating this. “I’m just going to my office to get caught up on some paperwork. You’re free to shop and look around to get your bearings today.”

  Rys nodded and went to take a quick shower. On his way up the stairs, he composed a quick email to everyone in SF01 alerting them to the new developments and requesting that Gremlin set up a good information relay system. With that done, he grabbed a clean set of clothes and went for the shower. His standard two-minute shower plans evaporated with the steam when he realized that water on Bijordan actually got hot. He spent ten sacrilegious minutes under the scalding spray before he managed to drag himself free of the hypnotic massage.

  Dressed in his black fatigues and black shirt, he dug around in his med kit for the tube he needed. It always seemed to wind up at the bottom of the bag for some reason, probably because it was small and cylindrical in shape. Ah! There it was.

  Rys had done this so many times over the past two years, he didn’t even need a mirror anymore. He just lifted the bottle to his eye, placing it in the corner, and carefully squeezing out a few drops of solution.

  There was an unexpected rap at his bedroom door, followed by Sara’s voice. “Rys, what would you like—” that startled him. His hand jerked in reflex, which accidentally poked the sensitive edge of his eye. “Ow!” he hissed in pain, angry at himself for such a dumb mistake. He instinctively dropped the tube and clamped a protective hand over his right eye.

  “Oh, I am so sorry!” Sara exclaimed, advancing toward him when she understood what happened. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine, give me a moment.” Rys blinked gingerly, wincing at the sharp pain in his eye.

  “Here, let me see that,” she insisted, trying to brush aside his hand.

  “No, really, it’s fine,” he assured her, reluctantly lowering his hand from his eye. “My hand just slipped when I was putting my med drops in.”

  “You didn’t poke yourself in the eye, did you?”

  If I had, it wouldn’t have hurt. “No, it was just the corner of my eye. But the discomfort is fading; it’s really not a problem.”

  Sara peered at his eye doubtfully. “Everything looks okay. What is that medication for, anyway?”

  “Oh, it’s a moistening solution.”

  She picked the small bottle from the floor, where he had dropped it, and looked at it carefully. “This doesn’t look like a regular bottle of eye drops.”

  Rys could tell by her expression that this was something she hadn’t been read in on. Just what had Jeremy told her about him, anyway? Obviously, whatever it had been, he hadn’t provided her many details. “No, regular eye drops wouldn’t be helpful in my case. That is a special solution.” Seeing her confusion, he gentled his voice. “Sara, my right eye is not organic.”

  She froze, the hand holding the tube tightening until her knuckles were white. “Not…organic…?” she whispered hoarsely. “That’s an artificial eye?”

  “Yes. I lost my right eye nearly three years ago.” The second mission he had been assigned to. He’d been lucky that all he lost was his eye. That had been a particularly hairy mission.

  “But it looks so real!” she insisted, peering at his eye more closely.

  “The first one sure didn’t,” Rys recalled almost ruefully. “This is the fourth model they have outfitted me with, and is by far the best one. The only minor setback to the surgery is that they couldn’t completely repair my tear duct in that eye socket. The duct works, but not as well as it did before. I have to keep my ocular implant moistened with that solution every three days or so.”

  She raised a shaking index finger to trace the thin scar that led from the corner of his eye to his temple. “That scar suggests that there was more to your injury than just a damaged eye.”

  They’d had to reconstruct part of his skull, too. It hadn’t been a simple wound by anyone’s standard. He didn’t know how to respond without causing her undue concern, so he just shrugged.

  “
Judging from the location and length of this scar, I would say you came close to being killed, didn’t you?”

  “I had excellent doctors, no one could have had better care.” That was the only response he could think of to put her at ease, without directly fabricating a lie.

  Sara’s eyes clenched shut and she drew in a shaking breath. “You’ve seen far too much of war, Arystair.”

  If this small, barely visible scar set Sara off, Rys made a mental note to never allow her to see his chest. She’d faint dead away. “You came in with a question for me, didn’t you?” he offered, hoping to change the subject.

  Sara shook her head, not in disagreement, but to mentally draw herself back into the present. “Yes, breakfast?”

  “I like breakfast,” he agreed seriously, trying to lighten the mood.

  That made her smile, almost. “Most teenaged boys do. What would you like for breakfast?”

  “Anything is good.”

  “That is not what I asked, Arystair. What would you like me to fix you for breakfast?”

  He paused, thinking that one through. He wasn’t used to anyone preparing a meal specifically for him. Breakfast was whatever they were serving in the chow hall, or if they were out on maneuvers or a mission, it was a freeze dried ration. “Would it be possible to have waffles with real strawberries on top?” Since she was asking, he might just as well shoot for the moon.

  That amused her. “Real strawberries? Is there such a thing as fake strawberries?”

  “You probably don’t want the answer to that question,” he assured her with a mock-shudder. “Believe me.”

  She finally relaxed and laughed with him. “I’ll take your word for it. I believe we do have some fresh strawberries that need to be eaten. Since waffles take a little longer to make, we usually reserve them for the weekend menu, when we have more time in the morning. How about some pancakes with strawberries instead?”

  “That sounds great, too.” Rys wasn’t sorry he wouldn’t be eating those dry rations that were meant to last for twenty years. Anything was a trade up from that.

  “Is there anything else,” she waved the tube meaningfully, “that I need to be told about?”

  “That is the only physical consideration I have,” he assured her. Everything else, the doctors had been able to fix.

  He wisely didn’t voice that out loud.

  She handed the tube back to him and stood up. “Right. I’ll start on those pancakes. Be ready to leave in about an hour or so.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  Sara gave him a warning glare, closely resembling what they used to call “the laser death stare” when their training sergeant was unhappy about something.

  He winced. “Sorry. It’s a pretty ingrained habit. They drill manners into you at the academy, 24/7.”

  “Normally, I wouldn’t mind if you were a guest, but you’re a part of our family now, Arystair. No formality is expected or allowed.” With a firm nod, she left the room, heading back downstairs.

  ***

  By eight o’clock all the children were dispatched to school and the Admiral was at the base. When they were gone, Sara towed Rys out the door after her, heading for the car.

  The mall in town was not crowded that early in the morning. Rys trailed after Sara through the expansive hallways, staring at window displays with growing amazement. Surely people didn’t actually prefer to wear clothing like that. Some of the outfits on the mannequins would only be appropriate to wear to a good snake fight. No, check that, even snake fights had their standards!

  Sara proved to be a woman with sensible taste in clothes. She pointed him toward shirts and pants and shoes that were serviceable as well as practical, without resorting to the glaringly bright and gaudy getups he had seen on his way in.

  Rys was perfectly content with the results of the whole supply expedition until they went to pay out.

  He watched Sara pull her wallet out and frowned. “Sara, I can pay for my own clothes.”

  “Not while you’re living under my roof, you won’t,” she disagreed calmly. “This is part of what parents do, Arystair. They provide food, clothing and shelter. Save your money to buy something that you want.”

  Rys drew a blank and stared back at her absently. Something I want? Everything that I want, money can’t buy. It couldn’t buy friends, family, or acceptance in this strange yet oddly familiar world. That was what he wanted most. Money would never be able to get him any of that.

  She must have seen his confusion. “Isn’t there anything you want? Games, music, books?”

  “Is that what teenagers normally buy here?”

  “Adults do, too,” she responded dryly. “What did you normally spend your money on when you lived on Fourth Colony?”

  Rys drew another blank. “I didn’t spend much money, to tell you the truth. I guess what I mostly bought was food.”

  Sara got that tight, pinched look to her face, as if his words had been painful again somehow. “What did you do on your free time?”

  “I mostly slept, or read a book, if there was one available.” He didn’t have anything new to read right now. Maybe he could start borrowing some of Ashley’s books; she had an impressive collection in her room. Her taste was remarkably similar to his own. Perhaps he could get a library card and pick up some books on his early morning runs.

  Sara finished paying out. Rys hastily grabbed up all of the bags before she could. She acknowledged this with a forced smile. He followed her out of the store in silence, not understanding how he could make her happy again. He liked it better when she was smiling.

  Well, if I can’t be subtle, I might as well take the direct approach. “Sara, why did my reaction trouble you?” he asked quietly.

  Sara stopped in mid-step, turning back to look at him. “Jeremy told me that you didn’t know anything except war. I hadn’t realized until now how literally he meant that. Arystair, outside of warfare, you don’t really have any interests, do you?”

  “That’s not true,” he protested. “I have plenty of interests. I just never had a lot of time or experience.”

  Sara watched him for a long moment, studying his face. Then she nodded firmly. “Well, we’re going to change that right now. Let’s put those bags in the car, and then I’ll show you some of the things that teenagers normally do.”

  That sounded like a good place to start to him.

  They spent several hours, in and out of different stores. Most of the time Rys just browsed. The bookstore was the first place he actually spent money. There were two books he ran across that looked pretty interesting. Of course, that was only part of the reason that he bought them. The other reason was that he could tell Sara was discouraged that he hadn’t found anything yet that he was willing to buy.

  When they came out of the bookstore she snapped her fingers, looking like she had a flash of inspiration. “Arystair, do you like sharp shooting?”

  “Yes, I certainly do.”

  “Have you ever heard of paintball?”

  Rys blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “It’s a competitive sport here on Bijordan, that lots of teenagers seem to enjoy. It dates back to Old Earth, I believe. The boys and girls make up teams, and they wear camouflage and body armor. They equip themselves with special pneumatic guns that have small pellets of paint for ammunition. The teams use combat strategies to try to eliminate each other with the paintballs. If you get hit, the ball explodes, marking you with paint, and you are out. The last team on the field without getting hit by a paintball wins.”

  What she was describing was remarkably similar to some of his training — although they hadn’t used paintballs. He listened with growing curiosity and interest. “Now that sounds like something that I could get on board with. Is there a store that sells paintball equipment here on the mall?”

  “Right down there.” Sara beamed, pleased to see him finally interested in something, even if it was related to his combat skills.

  Rys walked into the
paintball store, and listened to the pitch by the young salesman, who also happened to be an avid player. The man was well versed in the sport, and frankly discussed the pros and cons of all of the guns and gear available for sale. Rys saw enough to convince him that this sport was very close to the training he had done on Fourth. He and his team could get together for training and games. They could exercise, keep their skills sharp, and have fun at the same time. Perhaps they could get the other teams in 01 interested, and they could lay down the gauntlet for regular games.

  Grinning with anticipation, he bought four top of the line guns and all the necessary equipment and ammunition for four players.

  Sara was glad he finally found something he could turn into a hobby, but she was puzzled by all of the excess equipment in his cart. “Why are you buying four of everything?”

  “So I can get the rest of my team to play with me,” he explained, rubbing his hands together with anticipation and delight. “It’s been quite a while since we could really play and interact together. They’ll absolutely love this sport.”

  “Oh dear.” Sara’s eyes went wide, the vision of elite combat forces armed with paintball guns dominating the local paintball fields dancing in her head. “What have I done?”

  “Don’t worry, Sara, we won’t play with any of the civilians,” he assured her earnestly. “They wouldn’t be much of a challenge, anyway.”

  “Hey!” the sales clerk protested indignantly, overhearing Rys’s comment. “We are pretty good, don’t count us out!”

  Rys smiled indulgently and ignored his reaction, knowing the poor guy had no idea who he was talking to. “I’m definitely telling my brother captains about this, though.” He paused, savoring the thought of a tournament involving the entire 01 force.

  Better still, maybe he could arrange for all of them to play against each other regularly as teams. Now there would be something to look forward to!

  Just thinking about the possibilities of paintball war games made him feel like chuckling evilly.

  Chapter Four

  High School…was not at all what Rys was expecting.