Special Forces 01 (6 page)

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.

For one thing, the campus was situated on a much grander scale than he had anticipated. It was almost incomprehensible that it took up a full twenty acres, including the sports fields. Maybe it was a holdover of his mindset from living on a cramped colony world, but Rys couldn’t help but think that there was a lot of wasted space out there.

The other part that initially surprised him was how
crowded
the campus seemed. He knew, on an intellectual level, that this school had an enrollment of about two thousand students. What that actually felt like, in between classes, was the entire two thousand students were trying to muscle their way through the same hallway he occupied. It was less like a school and more like an Army Deployment Depot that was on an emergency take-off schedule. He kept looking around for someone in charge of crowd control, until it finally registered that no one around him looked panicked, or even mildly ill at ease, by the close proximity.

Great. This must be standard operating procedure, then. Remind me again; why did I think this was a good idea?

He reached his first class, finally, and quickly took an empty seat toward the back of the room. Rys wondered if there was assigned seating, as he had no idea how civilians conducted their classroom protocols. It would behoove him to observe carefully, and learn all that he could the first day, until he identified and absorbed the rhythm of this place.

Rys watched over the next five minutes as people filed in, sometimes singly, sometimes in pairs or small groups. While he garnered a great many curious looks, no one approached him. Perhaps they were shy?

He wasn’t quite sure how to handle this situation. He very rarely met any strangers in the Special Forces Division; most of the people had been with him for years. The majority of individuals around him were either a support group, his superiors, or people he was assigned to work with. Whatever the case might be, if there were any new personnel on the Base he was always formally introduced to them.

But who was in charge of breaking the ice for him here?

An adult male entered the room, dressed casually in jeans and a polo shirt. While there was no rank insignia or name tag anywhere to be seen, he had
teacher
written all over him. Rys almost started to stand automatically. In the Special Forces, military courtesy required him to stand at attention and salute when an instructor entered the room. He remembered, just in time, that civilians didn’t salute, and paused four inches off of his chair. None of the other students bothered to do more than give a cursory glance at the teacher. Most continued to carry on their previous conversation without a pause.

Now that was just bizarre! Such a blatant breach in etiquette would have cost him 100 pushups on his knuckles.

“Everyone take your seat!” the man called. “I will be taking roll this morning. Anderson.”

“Here!” a lanky blond called back in a bored voice.

“Bennett.”

“Here,” a thin brunette with bad skin responded shyly.

Okay, this part is like the academy.
Rys was glad that he finally recognized
something.
Maybe this wouldn’t be completely alien after all.

He answered when his name was called a few moments later. The teacher eyed him appraisingly for a moment, before passing on to the next student.

“All right, everyone, let’s pick up where we left off yesterday. We were covering Sharratt’s Regime, but that period didn’t last more than ten years. In 2674, you will need to remember that year, the Regime collapsed when Sharratt was assassinated. There has never been a definitive conclusion as to who was involved with his murder. He ruled with an iron fist, and his death created a power vacuum, plunging the government into chaos. All control was lost, and there was a long period of power struggles and jockeying for position, before a new coalition could be formed.”

Rys was paying strict attention, so it took him a few minutes to notice that every student had paper out, and was apparently scribbling all over it. He was completely taken back by that. Wasn’t that considered rude, doodling when they should be listening? They should at least act like they were paying attention.

And there were a few that had the textbook out, too. Reading in class, instead of listening to the lecture? They should have completed their homework assignments before coming to class, instead of trying to skim the chapters during the lecture. Now that was beyond rude.

But the teacher, Mr. Blake, didn’t seem to notice or care. Maybe the lack of respect was normal, too. He thought it a sad state of affairs.

That class ended with the sounding of a bell, and Rys left with everyone else, heading to his next class. The behavior of the students in all four classes, from History to Biology, was remarkably similar. They all wrote on paper or in notebooks while the teacher talked, or they read from the textbooks. Really, if they were going to ignore the teacher like this, why bother to attend classes at all? They should just stay home and mail in their assignments.

The bell rang for lunch. Rys stepped out of the classroom, mentally reviewing the map in his mind, and deciding the best route to get to the cafeteria. He was wondering what he would buy to eat when the loud speaker above his head came to life with an announcement.

“Will Arystair Savar please come to the principal’s office,” a calm female voice requested. “I repeat, will Arystair Savar please come to the principal’s office.”

Principal’s office? Why? Puzzled, he turned around and headed in the opposite direction, the one that would take him to the office. It took no small amount of determination to make it through the crowd, but he finally managed to break free of the crush of bodies, and walk through the main doors of the office.

He was barely inside when he spotted Sara sitting in a chair near the door. “Sara?”

She had a nervous smile on her face. “Arystair, did one of your teachers talk to you today?”

“No, ma’am,” he responded slowly, thinking about the title, but deciding it was appropriate in this instance. “To tell you the truth, I’ve been pretty much ignored all morning. Is something wrong?”

She sighed and nodded in response. “Rule number one for high school, Arystair. If you’re called to the Principal’s Office, you’re generally in trouble.”

“Oh.” He couldn’t think of a more elaborate response than that.

The door to the Principal Office opened at that moment, and a pencil thin woman wearing a severe black suit stepped outside. “Mrs. Bloch?”

“Yes, that’s me,” Sara confirmed.

The woman managed a polite smile. “I’m Principal Holland. Come in, please. And you,” she gave Rys an appraising study from head to toe, “must be Arystair Savar.”

I know that look. My drill sergeant used to get the same look on his face when I somehow screwed up.
“Yes ma’am.”

“Step inside, please.”

Rys felt like he should be calling for backup before he ventured across the threshold, only he was not sure who to call. All things considered, Sara was probably the best advisor he could have in this situation. As a parent of five children, she surely understood the terrain and spoke the vernacular to figure out why the principal was already mad at him. Not to mention the right phrases to clear up the matter, and put him back on an even keel.

He stepped inside, taking the seat next to Sara. He thought it strange that Mr. Blake, his history teacher, was there as well.

Principal Holland took her seat behind the massive oak desk in the room. “Now then, Mr. Blake called this parent-teacher conference as he felt it necessary to preempt any future problems. Mr. Blake, if you would explain, please.”

“Certainly.” Blake turned to look directly at Sara, as if Rys was somehow as important as the potted plant in the corner. “Mrs. Bloch, I realize you hardly need trouble on the first day of school with this young man, but I felt it was important for you to know that he has the wrong attitude to be successful here. He did not participate at all today during class. He didn’t have his book out, he wasn’t taking notes, and he didn’t advance a single comment or question during the entire period. He isn’t going to make any progress if he doesn’t put in some sort of effort.”

Rys went very still as he started to realize his mistakes.
So all of that scribbling had a purpose? They were actually writing down what he said?
So much for his powers of observation.

Sara put a hand over her mouth, but Rys could tell from her sparkling eyes that she was amused, and trying desperately to hide it. “I’m beginning to see the misunderstanding. But I’m afraid, Mr. Blake, that the real problem is that you are unfamiliar with Arystair. Allow me to illustrate my point. Arystair.” She turned to look at him, dropping her hand, which indeed revealed a crooked smile. “Please recite the first thirty seconds of Mr. Blake’s class.”

“Would you like that from the start of class, or of his lecture?” Rys asked uncertainly. The first thirty seconds, the man had only called roll.

“The lecture should be fine.”

“Yes ma’am.” Rys called up that file, stood next to Sara, and started to recite, “All right, everyone, let’s pick up where we left off yesterday. We were covering Sharratt’s Regime, but that period didn’t last more than ten years. In 2674, you will need to remember that year, the Regime collapsed when Sharratt was assassinated. There has never been a definitive conclusion as to who was involved with his murder. He ruled with an iron fist, and his death created a power vacuum, plunging the government into chaos. All control was lost, and there was a long period of power struggles and jockeying for position, before a new coalition could be formed.”

Mr. Blake dissolved into a coughing fit at that point, eyes as big as saucers.

“Guardians, that sounds like he recited that verbatim!”

“He did,” Sara assured him calmly. “Mr. Blake, Principal Holland, Arystair has both a photographic and audio graphic memory. He doesn’t need to take notes. He can remember anything that he has seen or heard, with perfect clarity.”

Principal Holland turned slowly to Rys, her expression no longer icy and disapproving. Now she just looked incredulous. “Young man, if you have the ability to do that, why on
earth
are you enrolled in high school?”