Typically, Anne wouldn’t have to worry about this. Her father was usually traveling on government business, out of town. Her mother was always involved in several projects, in support of her husband’s work. It was just one of those inconvenient moments when one of the two parents was actually home. “Which one of them is home right now?” Rys inquired, preparing for battle
“That would be my mother, fortunately. My father has no sense of humor about these sorts of things, but Mom will give me a fair hearing, without jumping to conclusions.” Anne pulled into the driveway with the typical screech of tires. “Are you allowed to tell her the whole truth? I have no idea if she has a clearance like mine, or not.”
“I assume so, but let me double check her records to make sure.” Rys frowned as he accessed the net and hacked into Angela Dorian’s file. There wasn’t anything classified in there—he hadn’t expected there to be—and it was easy to confirm that she did indeed have a Secret clearance. “Yes, she does.”
Anne stared at him in amazement, holding both of her hands to her face. “That took you less than ten seconds!”
“Yeah, the security on these files is shockingly pitiful.” He shook his head in disapproval. “Amateurs! Remind me to tell Gremlin to send the network administrators a few pointers.”
She gave him a lost smile, as if she had no idea how to respond to that. “Right, let’s go in and face the music, shall we?”
As Anne walked through the front door she called out in a loud voice, “I’m home! Mom…are you here?”
“I’m right here; you don’t need to blow all of the windows out of their frames.” A very classically attractive woman, with thick blonde hair and a familiar shade of blue eyes, appeared in the living room doorway. Rys could see where Anne picked up her good looks. “The school just called me. Anne, what are you doing skipping school?”
Rys figured that was his cue, so he stepped forward. “I’m afraid that’s my fault, ma’am. I needed to be somewhere as quickly as possible, and I knew that Anne could get me there.”
“Indeed,” she responded, her eyes shifting from her daughter to focus on him, like the tracking computer of a laser turret. For some reason, fortunately for him, she looked more amused than upset for the moment. And she really looked at him, as if she were actually weighing him physically with just the assistance of her eyes. “And who might you be?”
Anne cleared her throat. “Mom, this is my friend, Rys. Rys, this is my mother, Angela Dorian.” With a mischievous smile she tacked on, “Mom, you helped Dad with the Fourth Colony Citizen’s Settlement Plan, didn’t you?”
Mrs. Dorian’s eyes narrowed perceivably, trying to determine where her daughter was heading with this. “Yes…”
“Then you probably know Rys already, by his reputation if nothing else. This is Captain Arystair Savar of Special Forces 01.” Judging by the victorious glint in Anne’s eyes, she thoroughly enjoyed just rolling that name off of her tongue.
Mrs. Dorian did an excellent impression of a quick dip in a pool filled with ice water for a few moments. Then she took in a deep breath and seemed to recover her composure. “I see. Yes, Captain, I did have the privilege of reading your service record, as a matter of fact. I have the feeling this is going to be quite an interesting story…”
“Yes ma’am,” he admitted ruefully. You have no idea.
“Let’s come into the living room and sit down,” Mrs. Dorian suggested. She shot her daughter a pointed, narrow look, which Rys couldn’t quite decipher. There was an element of amusement in it, but something else, too, just beyond his limits of understanding.
Rys had already discovered on previous visits to this house that the living room was meant more for company than comfort. He took the lone chair that he knew wasn’t fragile, being paranoid about accidentally breaking a valuable antique, and sat down facing the two women. Mrs. Dorian touched a small communicator, that looked like a piece of jewelry, fastened to her wrist and murmured, “Rosalita we have company. Would you mind rustling up some refreshments, and join us please?” With her request passed along, she looked up calmly, and settled in to hear a fascinating explanation for her daughter’s absence from school. “Now, Captain Savar, you simply must tell me how you became friends with my daughter.”
“Sheer good fortune, ma’am,” Rys answered honestly. “We have a few classes together at school. I badgered her with several bone headed questions, and she took pity, filling in some embarrassing gaps in my cultural knowledge.”
Anne sighed, sounding exasperated. “That’s your version. My version is that this extremely polite, good-looking guy offered to help me with a mountain of unruly books. And then he bought me lunch. The only thing he asked for in return was a quick crash course on how to talk to kids in high school.”
Rys felt a silly grin rapidly overtaking his face. Anne thought he was good looking? Really? That was a gem going into his database for further examination, when he had more time to give it. His head swelled enough at that moment that he was sure his standard issue head gear would no longer fit.
“It was all completely inevitable at that point,” Anne confided to her mother with a wicked grin. “I simply couldn’t ignore his plight; you didn’t raise me that way.”
“I have eyes,” her mother returned, her own smile a mirror of her daughter's. “Well, Captain, what was this emergency situation that had the two of you ditching school today?”
Rys gave her a briefing of that morning’s events. Mrs. Dorian became increasingly indignant, building to outrage, as he talked. By the time he was done, she looked ready to tear into Lieutenant Sharpe herself, when Admiral Bloch was through with him.
“Good Guardians!” she exclaimed when he finished. “And did he give a reason for this barbaric behavior?”
“Not one that I found satisfactory,” Rys replied in a grim tone. “His excuse was that he outranked Erksome, and so he should have been given priority for the bathroom.”
“Does that really make a difference? I am afraid I am not that familiar with military protocol.”
“No, ma’am, or I should say, it only matters to the very small and petty. We absolutely rely on seniority, to keep the chain of command clear when engaged in an operation or a war. It ensures that everything is organized and running smoothly. A few minutes in the shower is of absolutely no importance to the big picture. Lieutenant Sharpe was on leave; he didn’t need to report for duty, and was not due anywhere for an appointment. Erksome, on the other hand, was already late for school, because he helped Mrs. Sharpe with her car. Even if Lieutenant Sharpe did require a priority, there are limits to how a senior officer can treat a junior officer. He was way over the line, and it is going to cost him.”
“Well.” She sat back, the gears almost visibly turning in her head. “And what will happen to both of the Lieutenants now?”
“Lieutenant Sharpe is being dealt with by Admiral Bloch.” Rys didn’t mean to smile saying that, but he knew how upset Jeremy really was. Whatever punishment the man conjured up, Rys was confident it would leave a lasting impression with Sharpe. “Erksome is being relocated to a more suitable home. I actually need to go and attend to that as soon as the records are available.” Rys’s head started giving off twinges, like building earthquakes, just thinking about sifting through all of those records and home applications. Maybe if I take some pain meds before I begin, my head won’t completely split open by the time I’m done.
“Then I won’t keep you here long. Captain, I understand now that it truly was an emergency situation, and I don’t mind my daughter helping you. I will contact the school and smooth over their ruffled feathers. Is this sort of thing a common occurrence for you? Do you envision other problems like this occurring in the future?”
Rys rubbed the back of his neck, face twisted up in a sheepish grin. “Ma’am, honestly…we’re a lot of trouble, and high maintenance in more ways than I care to think about. I don’t envision any more problems cropping up, but I’m not so naïve as
to think that they might not.”
“I see.” And she looked as if she truly did understand what he meant. “Well, that is certainly a practical and forthright answer.”
Rosalita entered, carrying a large tray overflowing with all sorts of delectables and treacherously fragile porcelain dishes. Rys hopped up immediately and took the tray from her, half afraid that she was going to drop it. It seemed awfully unwieldy and awkward to him.
“Thank you, Rys,” Rosalita shook her head in fond amusement, “but I can carry it, you know."
“Rosalita, you can do anything,” Rys replied with a wink, “but I can’t very well watch a slip of a woman do such heavy work, while I sit on my duff. My Sergeant would have me scrubbing latrines for a month. Where would you like this, ma’am?”
“The coffee table is fine.” As he carefully reached out to put it down, she leaned over and confided in a loud whisper, “He’s such a great kid. Somebody really drilled good manners into him.”
Sergeant Barrett, actually. Rys ducked his head to conceal a smile.
Angela Dorian looked seriously at Rys with an appraising eye.
He sat back down again as Rosalita filled the cups and plates and passed them out. The refreshment served with the tea was strawberry shortcake, one of Rys’s most favorite desserts in the whole world. He dug into it with wild abandon, a contented sigh emerging from his stuffed mouth, as his eyes rolled back into his head. “Rosalita, you’re a true blue marvel.”
She gave him a knowing nod. “I knew you would like that.”
He grinned at her with sincere admiration showing in his clear gray eyes.
Rosalita laughed, the years dropping off her face, and a warm glow shining from her cheeks. “I never saw a young man that eats fruit like you do. You eat it like it is going out of style, and being replaced by candy.”
“Oh, it’s way better than candy,” he assured her, rolling his eyes in pure ecstasy.
“I have some more strawberry shortcake in the kitchen if you would like another serving, or two.”
If she allowed it, he could probably eat his weight in strawberries. “Are you sure you won’t ditch George and marry me? He can’t possibly appreciate you as much as I do, and I promise to be your devoted slave for life!”
Rosalita didn’t even dignify this with a response, she just laughed.
“You’re wounding my ego and my self-confidence here, Rosalita,” Rys complained with mock injury, holding his hand to his breaking heart.
Anne, he noticed out of the corner of his eye, was biting her lips in an obvious attempt to keep from laughing. Her mother had a hand over her mouth, but her eyes were crinkled up in a silent smile.
“Oh my.” Angela Dorian lowered her hand, revealing a crooked smile. “Does he always do this?”
“Always,” Anne confirmed. “It’s part of the reason why I like being friends with Rys. It’s always interesting around him.”
Rys just couldn’t let that one pass without comment. “Anne, on Fourth Colony, ‘May your life be interesting’ is considered a curse.”
She winked back at him, undaunted. “I guess that makes me a glutton for punishment.”
Chapter Twelve
Rys rubbed at his temples as he walked into the house. It had taken more time than he could have imagined to find a new home for Erksome, and to see his Lieutenant settled. He sat down with the perspective couple, Jesse and Caitlin Newman, and gave them a comprehensive outline of what they taking on. They were both retired army, so he didn’t need to do more than cover most of the basics, to make sure there were no questions or gaps. When he left, they both understood that if anything went wrong, they were to contact him immediately.
He wasn’t worried about Erksome. The Newman’s struck him as solid, sensible people that weren’t easily rattled. That was an invaluable quality when dealing with 01. What did worry him was if anything like this occurred again, to anyone of his Team, he should have his own means of transportation. He couldn’t always depend on Anne like this, that wasn’t responsible on his end. He had a comfortable amount of savings in his account, but how much did vehicles cost here on Bijordan? He didn’t have a clue.
Maybe I should have kept Erksome here a little longer. I could definitely use some help picking out a good vehicle. His friend was a veritable walking database when it came to all categories of transportation, as well as being a formidable negotiator. If you had something that Erksome wanted, you should be prepared to give it to him at whatever price he named, and save yourself an unnecessary headache.
As he traversed the living room, he heard a quiet sniffle and a hiccuping sob. The sound sent alarm skittering up his spine. Were one of the kids hurt?
Following his acute senses, he quickly made his way into the kitchen. Dylan was standing in front of his mother, shoulders hunched forward, his whole body jerking with each sob. Rys could see that both of his hands were covering his eyes. Sara was kneeling down on one knee in front of him, speaking in a soothing tone, with a tight expression on her face. Nearby, Brandon was munching on something, taking in the scene with apparent boredom.
Rys squatted down to Dylan’s level. “Dylan? What happened, buddy?”
The boy just shook his head, crying all the harder.
“Some bullies caught him just outside of school,” Sara answered in a low tone. “They stole his allowance and gave him a black eye. I can’t get him to calm down enough to tell me more than that.”
“Wimp,” was Brandon’s scathing opinion.
That tone struck a dark place in Rys’s mind. He was on his feet again without thinking about it. “Brandon, shut up,” he snarled. A feral part of him was pleased when Brandon jerked back in alarm. “What kind of a brother are you? What kind of warped logic is it to blame the victim? You’re just like Nova, believing you have the right to treat someone in your sphere of influence anyway you please!”
Dylan wasn’t sobbing now, aside from an involuntary hitch in his breathing here and there. He twisted around to stare up at Rys in open astonishment and gratitude for sticking up for him. It was the first time he’d seen Rys yell at anyone.
“Where do you get off —” Brandon started angrily.
“Brandon, stop right there,” Sara commanded. “Rys is absolutely right. Your attitude concerning this whole business is reprehensible.”
Rys couldn’t care less about Brandon. It was Dylan that had his full attention. “Dylan, come with me.”
“Where are we going?” Dylan asked cautiously.
“We are going to the back yard.” Rys gave him a firm nod. “I’m going to teach you how to fight, so you can defend yourself.”
The way that Dylan’s face lit up, you’d think that Rys had just offered him life’s source code for happiness. “Really?”
“Really.” Rys started for the back door, and wasn’t surprised when Dylan beat him to it.
It took a few minutes to clear away enough toys and bikes to have enough space to work in. When Rys was satisfied, he started from the very beginning, basics were essential to build a good foundation on. He showed Dylan the right way to hold his fists to give it the best power delivery without injuring himself. He showed him how to punch someone and put the whole weight of his body behind it. He showed him how to block, and feint, and where to strike most effectively. He demonstrated how to stand to present the smallest target possible to his opponent. Dylan lapped it all up, eager for more. He watched every move Rys made, and did his best to imitate it.
Rys had to be careful not to smile. This is exactly like training a green recruit, only he is much more motivated. I think he’s definitely brighter than the average recruit, too. He was careful not to give the kid more than he could absorb; he didn’t want to overwhelm him.
“Let’s stop there for today. Practice the things we have covered, and keep going over them in your mind. It helps if you can visualize yourself doing the moves; it will make it easier get the moves down more quickly and correctly. We can pick it up again to
morrow, if you’d like.”
Dylan stared up at him with open admiration, it was clear that he had found a hero. “Yeah, you bet I want to!”
“Just remember, if you see them heading in your direction, don’t let them get the first punch in. They’ve already proven themselves to be your enemies, so you can prepare yourself mentally to engage them. Don’t allow them to get within arm’s reach of you. If you are prepared, you never have to be afraid.”
Dylan nodded fervently, and could most likely recite every word Rys just said to him.
“Good.” Rys nodded back. Together, they went back in the house. He wasn’t surprised to see Jeremy standing just inside the doorway, watching them. Rys gave him an acknowledging nod, “Evening, sir.”
“Dad, did you see us?” Dylan asked with rapt enthusiasm, nearly bouncing with pent up energy. “I can fight now!”
“I saw,” Jeremy assured his son with a note of approval in his voice. “Good work, both of you.”
Dylan beamed, bouncing off to re-hash the whole lesson for his mother. When his back was turned, Jeremy mouthed thank you to Rys.
Rys managed a brief smile back in acknowledgement. I certainly know what it’s like to be the “weaker” person, sir. I know what it’s like to be at the mercy of someone else. Do you think I would permit anyone, much less a child, to face that alone? That will never happen, not as long as I draw breath.
“Um, Arystair?”
Rys turned toward the kitchen doorway, surprised to see Ashley hovering just outside in the hall. Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth, and she couldn’t quite bring herself meet his eyes. “Yes, Ashley.”
“Could you teach me, too?”
This had better be a preemptive wish, and not because she’s being bullied at school as well. If that is the case, whoever is bullying her will regret surviving their birth. “Of course, if you’d like,” he answered gently, not wanting to make a big deal out of her request.
A beautiful smile immediately blossomed over her face. “After supper?” she asked, intent on getting right to work.
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