“Are you that sure she’ll win the argument?” Rys gave her an amused smile.
Anne just grinned at him. “I inherited my verbal skills from my mother.”
For Rys, that was assurance enough.
Chapter Seventeen
I really should know better than this by now.
It had been a very simple plan in the beginning. Just put in a call to Erksome, request a few basic pointers and strategies on deciding the best make and model of a vehicle for his purposes, and then go forward and select one. Erksome’s protest that it would be more efficient to just take him along on the procurement expedition was entirely reasonable. Jeremy’s observation that no respectable dealership would allow a seventeen-year-old to buy a vehicle without parental inclusion also was reasonable.
So just how had Anne, Gremlin and Snails wrangled an invitation, and become involved in the mix?
Rys’s elementary three-man mission had mushroomed into a full six person strike team! He’d had far less accompaniment on much more dangerous assignments. Managing to find a car that would meet everyone’s parameters of an ideal vehicle for his use would take an absolute miracle.
They took Jeremy’s van, as it was the only vehicle that would accommodate everyone. Rys frowned noticeably as he considered that fact. It would be fun to have a sporty little number like Anne’s, but he wanted a vehicle he could fit his entire team in, along with any necessary gear. If another situation presented itself—Guardians forbid—he might need the extra seating and cargo space.
“So, Erksome,” Rys ventured as they headed toward the business section of town, “how much does a well-maintained, moderately used vehicle run?”
“Oh, that depends on the make of the car, the features it comes with, the mileage…but I think you should be able to get something worth having for about ten thousand.”
That wasn’t nearly as bad as Rys had feared. “Would that be a vehicle that can seat a minimum of four people?”
For some unknown reason, all of his lieutenants immediately shot him an exasperated look.
“What?” Rys demanded defensively, searching their faces, trying to pick up on what he had missed.
“Sir,” Snails put Fourth with uncharacteristic patience, “we all have our own vehicles now; you are the only one walking. You don’t need to worry about transporting us somewhere. Why don’t you buy something that you’d like to have?”
Rys drew himself up in a dignified manner. “Well, what if I want to have a vehicle I can comfortably fit other people into?”
“At least make it a sports utility vehicle, for guardian’s sake!” Gremlin shook his head, obviously praying for the endurance to outlast his Captain.
“I don’t want a SUV,” Rys repeated with forced patience. “The insurance and gas alone would kill me.”
“Says the man whose pay grade is higher than ours,” Gremlin muttered to his team mates, who nodded in agreement.
“I’m the sensible one. I never live beyond my means,” Rys retorted.
“Don’t rough him up, he’s being practical about this,” Jeremy advised in good humor over his shoulder. “All right, so he wants a vehicle that can sit at least four people... Is there anything else you feel is important in your selection?”
“Not bankrupting me?” Rys pleaded, with a silent appeal in Erksome’s direction. The man was a proven impulse buyer.
“Establish a limit for me.”
“Well, you estimated ten thousand, correct? Don’t exceed that figure.” Rys was clearly relieved when Erksome gave a judicious nod.
“That should be doable. Are there any other limits?”
“Color selection: not orange, black, purple, and definitely not pink.”
Anne started chuckling. “I never suspected you might prove to be so picky about colors, Rys. I can understand three of the colors, but what do you have against black?”
“I don’t approve of it on a vehicle,” he expounded, warming up to his subject. “Clothes are fine. When it comes to a black vehicle, people can’t see it as well at night and I’m liable to get into an accident simply because I made a poor choice in color.”
“Oh, I never thought of that! Good point.”
Jeremy pulled into the first car dealership they came to and parked. “All right, people, we’re here. Just remember, there are plenty of other dealerships. We don’t have to make a decision right this minute.”
As it turned out, they visited four dealerships before Rys located the car of his dreams. It was a four door, like he had specified, with plenty of cargo space inside of it. This model was built along sleeker lines, however, looking more like a sports car than a midsize sedan. Rys drove it all of one mile before he fell in love.
It was fast.
It was sleek.
It was red.
It was incredibly sexy.
Rys decided he just had to have it.
Erksome pulled him aside after the test drive and whispered, “Sir, this breaks your budget by nearly four thousand.”
Rys gave a longing, appraising look at the car, weighing his budget and the payment schedules in his head. After a few moments wrestling with the numbers, he squared his shoulders, making the call. “That is immaterial, I want it. Erksome, you’re a better negotiator than I am. See if you can’t carve the man down a little. I think we have some room to maneuver.”
Erksome, with an evil leer on his face that shouted he was eager to accept this assignment, gave his Captain a casual analyst’s salute, and sauntered off in the direction of the office, looking for his prey.
“On it, sir.”
***
“And you said Jason was the impulsive buyer,” Anne laughed as they drove away from the dealership.
Rys shrugged, no defense on his lips. His euphoric state was worth the ribbing. His new car was an unholy joy to him at the moment, and every other consideration just shed off of his skin like a soft mist. It was the first thing that he’d ever really invested in, aside from his career. For some reason, owning this vehicle made him feel more grounded and attached to this place, more like a…civilian.
Not to mention the fact that he could finally take Anne places without making her drive.
“I like your choice, though,” she continued with an admiring eye. “I mean, it’s so you in many ways. It’s practical, but at the same time it’s just nice to look at too.”
He patted the steering wheel under his hands. “I’ve never owned something as nice as this; as a matter of fact I have never owned anything before! It’s a great feeling, to know that I have my own wheels, and I don’t have to depend on anyone else for transportation.”
“It is liberating,” she acknowledged. “I remember the day I got my car, I just had to drive it places. Nowhere in particular, but I had to go.”
Yes, that was what he was feeling exactly. “I never have taken you out to a movie. Would you like to do that tonight? I am flexible on the schedule.”
“Not science fiction,” she said firmly.
Rys shot her an innocent glance. “What? I can behave, and not keep up a running narrative on their plot errors.”
Anne was already shaking her head. “No way. I actually want to enjoy the movie. Comedy, romance, mystery, fantasy or drama is fine—but absolutely no science fiction.”
“Sir?”
Rys held up his index finger to indicate he was speaking mentally. Yes, Snails?
“The Admiral is offering to take us all out to dinner.”
“Jeremy is offering to take us out to dinner,” Rys repeated out loud for Anne’s sake.
She perked up. “A movie and popcorn sounds good, but dinner sounds great. I’m starving!”
Tell him we accept, Rys replied. I’ll follow him there.
“Roger that, sir.”
***
“Hey Savar, over here!”
Rys wasn’t used to anyone calling out to him in school, especially during the lunch break, so he was a little surprised to hear his name. He g
lanced up from the lunch tray in his hands to see who was hailing him. This was one of those rare times when Anne had a club meeting during lunch, leaving Rys to his own devices. He normally ate a quick lunch alone, and then sequestered himself up in the library for the rest of the lunch hour when she had a meeting.
A waving arm caught his attention and he realized it was a classmate, Mark Bergert that was beckoning him to come over. He had not had an opportunity for much interaction with Mark, or his two friends, but Rys had the impression he was a decent sort of a guy. So without any hesitation he changed the direction he had been heading, and approached their table. “Hey, Bergert.”
“Hey. Isn’t Anne eating with you today?” Mark’s dark eyes were darting around, obviously scanning the cafeteria for a particular blonde.
“No, not today, she has a club meeting,” Rys explained.
“We were wondering,” Dave nodded, blond hair falling into his eyes at the movement. “Have a seat man, take a load off, we don’t bite.”
Aside from Anne and her family, and the Blochs, of course, Rys didn’t have a lot of interpersonal communication with other civilians he came into casual contact with. This was a good opportunity to expand his small circle of acquaintances that might eventually develop into friendships. He slid into a seat between Dave and Jon, eyes taking them in at a glance. Dave Hallifax played on the varsity baseball team. His tanned skin and muscular build testified that he spent a great deal of time on the diamond practicing. Jon Newart was a member of the swim team, also trim and athletic, with his face half obscured by thick glasses. All three looked pleased to have him join them at their table.
“Okay, now that we’ve finally slipped you away from Anne,” Jon gave him a smile that bordered on being an eager grin, “we have just one compelling question for you. Is it true you have an audiographic memory?”
“That would be true,” Rys confirmed with an easy nod.
“See, I told you so!” Dave crowed, slapping his hand down on the table and claiming victory. “I’ve got two classes with him, and I’ve never ever seen him take notes.”
“Oh man, that is completely on the south side of fair,” Mark bemoaned this startling revelation, head dropping for a moment. “I want one too! How do I apply for one? Is there much paper work?”
Rys highly doubted that he would willing to go through all of the intricate surgeries and training necessary just to gain an audiographic memory, so didn’t bother responding. Besides, he was way too old! He just smiled, shook his head, and took a bite out of his sandwich.
“How come you haven’t joined any of the sports teams since you enrolled here?” Dave wanted to know. “I mean, I’ve watched you in PE. You’re pretty athletic, and it looks like you keep in shape somehow.”
Rys blinked at him in surprise. Joining a team hadn’t even occurred to him. “To tell you the truth, I have never considered it. We don’t have much in the way of sports where I am from.”
“I call dibs!” Dave stated hastily, with a pointed look at his two buddies. “We could really use another good player on the baseball team if we are going to take the Regional Finals again this year.”
“I have no idea how to play baseball, I have never even see a game,” Rys said patiently, half-amused at this unexpected turn in the conversation.
“Dude, I was watching how quickly you picked up tennis. I’ll bet you could probably be in the starting line up inside of a week.”
Jon slowly straightened, eyes thoughtfully evaluating Rys, when something occurred to him out of the blue. “Do you know how to play paintball?”
Rys cocked his head and turned to look at him. Why did he want to know? “Yes, as a matter of fact I play as often as my schedule permits. Why?”
For some reason his response made all three boys look at Rys with something akin to kids eyeing a case full of candy. Their expressions made him feel a little uncomfortable, but he waited for them to tell him what was on their minds. Patience cost him nothing, and often paid handsome dividends.
“See, we have our own paintball team,” Mark explained excitedly, his words coming out in one long, unbroken string. ”My younger brother is our fourth player. We must field a four man team, by regulations, to be eligible to compete in tournaments. The thing is, he’s down sicker than a dog with the flu right now and we have a major tournament this weekend. We have worked really hard, and have a good chance to be in the hunt for the top slot. Would you be interested in joining us and substituting for him?” Please? His eyes added plaintively. Rys was torn. Part of him really wanted to play with them, as it could prove to be fun, while expanding his base of friends. There was another part that was not so sure it was such a good idea at all. These were civilians and he seriously doubted they were used to the level of intensity that he routinely employed. There was no way they could keep up with him. An interesting idea began to form and grow in his head…but if I occupied the sniper position, it won’t matter as much if they could keep up with me or not… “I will agree to fill in on your team, if I can I be your sniper.”
It was almost possible to see their hopes for a trophy magically appear from thin air, moving firmly within their grasp. “Are you a good shot?” Jon was holding his breath in anticipation of the answer he somehow knew was coming.
“I maintain a marksman’s level,” Rys admitted with a modest nod of the head, not used to extolling his own achievements, or being around people who weren’t already familiar with them.
Mark grinned like a soldier who had just stumbled over a full box of ammunition in the dark. “In that case, you are hereby granted the position of sniper. I assume you’ve got your own gear?”
“Affirmative,” Rys answered without thinking.
“Sweet! Do you have a pump or an automatic marker?”
“Pump,” Rys responded cautiously. There was a heated debate in the paintball world about which type of gun was better, a pump action or an automatic. An all-out war of words could sometimes erupt between opposing factions over which one was superior, and why.
Fortune was with him because Mark beamed an approving grin at the answer. “Good. We’re all pumpers too. Automatics are just overkill and a waste of paint. Why lob in an entire hopper of expensive ammo at an opposing team, when one well-placed paintball will get the job done?”
Rys relaxed at this observation and smiled back, nodding in agreement. “I had a sar— an instructor who firmly believed that only people with poor targeting skills preferred automatic rifles. He said that if you couldn’t hit something on the first try, continuing to spray it with twenty more rounds wasn’t going to improve your chances of victory.”
“He’s absolutely right,” Jon agreed. His eyes were sharp and focused on Rys’s face, clearly evaluating and weighing him. “There’s a rumor making the rounds that you were in a military school before coming here. Is that true too?”
Apparently the incident in biology had been circulating in the school rumor mills. Which was alright, it served as good a cover for Rys. “That’s true.”
Mark snapped his fingers, suddenly enlightened. “That is why you’re a marksman. You were trained at the academy.”
“Yes.” Rys shrugged, like it wasn’t any a big deal.
Dave’s eyes had a calculating quality to them, as the gears turned in his head. “A sniper that is military trained. Oh man! The other teams don’t have a prayer. This is going to be a slaughter!”
“We should definitely practice together, to get our teamwork meshed up and smoothed out, before this weekend,” Mark mused aloud. “Just to get a feel for how we move together. Are you doing anything tonight, Savar?”
“Not a thing,” Rys replied, reviewing his schedule in his mind.
“Cool. You wanna play after school?”
Rys felt elated at the prospect that he could just cut loose and have a little fun in the immediate future. It had been a while since he had busted out of his daily routine, and purged his system of all of the stress and frustration he had bu
ilt up lately. “Sure. Where should I meet you?”
“Dave, the two of you have your last class together, right?”
“Right,” Dave confirmed. “Savar, I’ll just grab you after class is over. You can follow us to the field.”
“I will need to detour briefly by my house and pick up my gear,” Rys informed them.
Mark waved this concern away. “Dude, we all need to do that! We don’t exactly tote our markers in our backpacks between classes. Dave will just ride with you. He’ll direct you to the right field once you’ve got what you need.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
***
Rys pulled up in front of the Bergert house, thinking back to the sequence of events that had gotten him drafted to a civilian paintball team. The actual paintball “practice session” had been a lot of fun and Rys had enjoyed spending time teaching his three new companions strategies they had never envisioned before. After almost three hours of playing, they’d decided to call it quits for the day. Their stomachs were beating a staccato on their ribs, and promising dire retribution if they weren’t fed soon. Rys was all set to return to the Bloch house when Bergert intercepted him, and talked him into spending the night.
Putting the car in park, Rys got out and took a good look around him. The Bergert house looked a lot like the Bloch house, only without quite so many toys in the front yard. That made sense, as Mark only had one younger sibling, and he was fifteen. Grabbing his duffle bag from the back seat, he followed Mark up the sidewalk to the front door.
Mark entered the house with a cheery, “Hey Mom, I brought home a new friend to spend the night! We’re starving, what’s for dinner?”
Rys shot him an incredulous look. “You didn’t call ahead and give her a head’s up about me on the drive over here?!”
“Naw, she’s cool with it,” Mark assured him with a careless slap on the shoulder. “My mom loves company. The only time she’s really happy is when she has at least fifteen people to feed. She was raised in a very large family; there was always a mob for meals.”
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