Special Forces 01 (7 page)

Rys gave her a crooked smile in return. “Ma’am, respectfully, I’m not here to learn the academic disciplines. I’m here to learn about people, and how to interact with them successfully.”

Holland sat forward slightly, her eyes locked on his face. “I’m afraid I’m not entirely following you, Mr. Savar.”

“I’m from Fourth Colony, ma’am.” He paused when she involuntarily sucked in a shocked breath of understanding. Blake just went very, very still, as if not wanting to draw attention to himself. “As I’m sure you can ascertain, your culture is very different from the one I grew up in. You would not believe how much different,” he added ruefully. “I’m here to learn how to live in your culture. I believe attending high school will facilitate that goal more rapidly than any other method at my disposal.”

“I see,” Holland murmured. And she looked as if she did understand part of his reasoning. “Well. You do realize that college would achieve the same thing? You could certainly pass the classes there because of your remarkable memory.”

“I honestly don’t think I should attempt college just yet, ma’am,” he answered after a moment of thought. “High school is foreign enough, no offense intended,” he assured her hastily. “I think it would be more advantageous for me to be immersed with students from my own age group.”

“No offense taken, and I can appreciate your desire to be with your peers.” Now she just looked amused. “Well. Mr. Blake, I assume that you have no other complaints or issues?”

“None at all, Mrs. Holland. I’m sorry, Mr. Savar, for jumping to the wrong conclusions today.”

Rys shook his head, smiling to put his instructor at ease. “It’s quite all right, sir. I can see how the mistake was made. I am sorry if I gave you the wrong, impression, because I didn’t understand how things were done. I was paying attention, honest, sir.”

“After that demonstration, I believe it.” Blake smiled and stood up. “Sorry for dragging you down here, Mrs. Bloch.”

“It’s no trouble. That is what parents are for,” she assured him, shaking his hand. “Arystair, you better go get some lunch before you need to be to your next class,” she instructed over her shoulder.

Valid point, mothers could always be counted on to remember nutrition. Rys nodded to the history teacher, then the principal. “Sir. Ma’am. See you later, Sara.” He flashed Sara a genuine smile of thanks, and quickly retreated from the room, heading for the cafeteria at best possible speed.

***

“Hello…”

Rys looked up at his bedroom doorway, his attention diverted from the laptop in front of him. Dylan hovered just inside, biting his bottom lip uncertainly and shifting from one foot to the other. “Hello, Dylan. Is there something I can do for you?”

“Yeah, I was wondering…” he gave Rys a small hopeful smile, “if you would like to play a game with me?”

Why does the kid look like I’m going to shoot him for suggesting that? I’m not that scary, am I?
“What kind of game did you have in mind?” he asked in an encouraging tone.

“Well, I have some neat video games, and since they’re war games, I thought you might like ‘em…”

Rys had never played a video game in his life. His eyes darted back to the datasheet that Gremlin had just sent him laying out Novan citizen activities on Bijordan. None of it developed any sort of pattern that Rys could discern and frankly, staring at it for another hour wouldn’t help. Maybe he should put it away for a while and see if he couldn’t connect better with the family. “Dylan, I’m not sure if I’ll like them or not, but I would sure like to try them out.”

The boy’s eyes just lit up, like a second sun rising in the morning. “Really?”

“Really,” Rys assured him with a chuckle. “Where is this game of yours?”

“It’s in my room.” Dylan was practically bouncing with the prospect of someone to play with now.

Rys closed the lid to his laptop, and laid it aside on his desk, before following Dylan down the hall to his room. It was the first time he’d ever seen the inside, and he was surprised at how cluttered and unkempt it appeared. Were all little boy’s rooms like this one? There were toys and knickknacks on practically every horizontal surface in sight. You could barely make out the floor and the bed.

A vid screen, with a game system and two controllers, occupied one corner of the room. Rys took a seat on the floor next to Dylan, picking up one controller and wondered what buttons did what.

“So what do you want to play first?” Dylan asked eagerly.

“Since I have absolutely no idea what these games are like, why don’t you pick one out for us?” Rys suggested.

Dylan was pleased with this idea, and hovered over his stack of games for a few moments, deliberating. Finally, he selected one and stuck it into the game console. He charitably gave Rys a crash course on how to move, fire, and use the controller. Rys blessed the fact that he had a photographic memory; otherwise he’d be in real trouble trying to remember those brief complicated instructions.

The game Dylan selected was indeed some sort of war game, but it just pitted the two of them against each other, instead of using battalions of troops. Since Rys was
much
more experienced with actual combat than Dylan, he figured this would be an easy win.

Such was not the case; he had badly underestimated his opponent.

“I see you now!”

“No you don’t,” Rys disagreed. “I’m not even there.”

“Oh.” Dylan gave the screen a perplexed look. “Then where are you?”

“HA! Like I’m going to tell you.” Rys smiled. Oddly enough, he was genuinely enjoying himself.

“Hey! That’s not fair.”

“Who said I have to play fair?” Rys challenged, eyes glued to the screen. He wasn’t about to let Dylan distract him, and take another head shot.

“AH HA!” Dylan gave a victorious cry. “That’s where you are!”

“Nuts!”

“I’m gonna shoot you~!”

Rys dove for the nearest cover. Where was that little bugger…? “Oh no you’re not!”

“Reeaaallly? Why?” Dylan’s victorious expression morphed into one of horror. “Oh nuts!” Dylan streaked, imitating Rys.

“Because I just shot you first,” Rys returned with great satisfaction.

“I don’t see any bullets! And I’m still moving!” Dylan’s soldier raced off to the right side of the screen.

“Look behind you,” Rys advised smugly.

“MOTHER!” Dylan stared at the bazooka aimed point blank at his outmaneuvered warrior and started whimpering. “Don’t shoot me that close, there won’t be enough left to bury!”

Rys ignored that heart felt plea and fired anyway. There was a very satisfactory explosion on screen. Nonchalantly he replied, “You can always hit reboot.”

“Hey…good idea!”

“
Not
now! Let me save firs—” Rys glared at the blank screen. “Dylan, you are a dead man.”

“Nope, rebooting has reviving abilities, remember?”

“I wasn’t referring to the game,” Rys grumbled darkly.

“Oh…uh…I’m thinking we need a snack!” Dylan bolted for the door.

“Get back here you rascal!” Rys dropped the controller and darted after him. The kid had a head start, but Rys was faster. He caught up with him halfway to the kitchen. Dylan let out a squeal of delighted terror when Rys grabbed him, hauling him up sideways and tickling his exposed stomach. He was squirming helplessly, trying to get free, with laughter pouring out of his mouth in waves.

Sara’s head appeared around the doorway. “What is going on in here? It sounds like someone’s being tortured.”

“Good description,” Rys approved. “I’m punishing your youngest son for killing me with a technicality.”

“I d-didn’t!” Dylan protested in between bursts of laughter.

“And who hit the reboot before I could save?” Rys demanded with mock-indignation.

“Y-you s-said t-to!”

Sara had a hand clamped over her mouth, but her eyes were twinkling with merriment, glad to see the new brothers getting along so well. “I’m beginning to understand the gravity of the offense. Well. You’ll have to extract your well-deserved revenge elsewhere, Arystair. I need to get supper started, or we are all going to starve.”

“Roger that.” Rys casually slung the boy over his shoulder, upside down, carting his victim out of the kitchen.

***

Anne Dorian was having a really a rough morning.

She’d spent her entire break getting the necessary books from the library for her English paper, and didn’t have the time to swing by and deposit them in her locker. Her lack of foresight and planning meant she’d been forced to haul them around for nearly two hours. Annoying didn’t begin to cover her extra burden. Maybe if she didn’t keep
dropping
one or more of them, she wouldn’t have minded as much.

Just trying to keep them all balanced was impossible. Right when she thought she had finally come up with the magic combination, one would squirt out from under her arms, hitting the floor again.

I need an hour in an empty room for some primordial scream therapy!

Biology ended, finally, and the lunch break started, which meant she had to finesse her way through the crowded hallways and somehow avoid dropping any more books. If one got loose out there, it could be kicked from one end of the hall to the other like a hockey puck. This was
not
going to be a picnic. Maybe if she ran a few of her excess books to her locker...no that would just make her late.

“Excuse me, miss?”

Anne half-turned her head to see a tall, well-built redhead standing next to her. She recognized him as the new kid in school, and had heard conflicting stories buzzing about him. Reportedly, he was a foster child, living with the Bloch family. Some people said he was very polite—others swore he was a troublemaker.
Whatever he is, he sure is nice eye candy. Yum! Yum! Wait, what did he just call me?
“Did you just say ‘miss?’ ” she asked in open amazement.

He paused, uncertainty crowding his features. “I’m sorry, isn’t that the correct mode to address you?”

I think the people who said he is polite were right on the money.
“Probably not among teenagers, no. My name is Anne; ‘miss’ would blow right by me!”

He nodded in understanding. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Anne. My name is Arystair. Would you like some help with all of those books? They seem to winning the battle to end up on the floor.”

Not only was he polite, but he was volunteering to help her. Wow. So it wasn’t a myth? Gentlemen really
did
still exist in the world? “I would really appreciate some help,” she answered gratefully. “My locker isn’t far from here. If you wouldn’t mind carrying them that far for me, I would be forever grateful.”

“Of course, ma’am, that’s no problem.”

He honestly hadn’t just followed up the “miss” with “ma’am,” had he? She watched in amazement as he easily gathered up all of her books, on the first attempt, without dropping one of them. He just stood there with them tucked under his arm, where they stayed like obedient dogs, and waited for her to lead the way to her locker.

Finally realizing that he was waiting on her, Anne snapped out of it, grabbed her backpack and led him out of the classroom.

He navigated the obstacle course all the way to her locker, without dropping a single book or getting run over. She would have bet even money this morning that was an impossible feat. She closed her locker with a satisfied click and smiled up at him. “Thank you so much, Arystair.”

“You’re welcome, ma’am.”

She held up an admonishing finger. “Don’t ma’am me either.”

He looked briefly frustrated and confused. “Then how do you address people your own age here?”

Okay, that settles it. There’s no way he’s from Bijordan. For one thing, his accent is slightly different. It sounds…softer, somehow, and more clipped.
This good looking guy was a very interesting puzzle, and Anne could never resist the challenge of a good puzzle.
Or a great piece of eye candy, for that matter.
“Tell you what, Arystair. Let’s go get some lunch, and I’ll try to explain the nuances of addressing teenagers.”

You’d think she’d just tossed a lifeline to a drowning man. “Would you? I feel like I’m navigating deep space with a half-charted map.”

Why did that metaphor sound comfortable coming out of his mouth?
“Sure, it’s no problem. But we better hurry before all the good stuff is gone.”

To Anne’s complete astonishment, he actually bought her lunch, as well as insisting on carrying her backpack in the bargain. He said it might be too heavy for her to manage along with her lunch tray.

Anne had no idea which heaven this angel dropped out of, but she was absolutely not complaining.

Okay, all of those people that said this guy was a dangerous troublemaker obviously have no clue what they are talking about, or they were bald faced liars. I’ve never met a bigger teddy bear in my life.
She eyed him sideways as they settled outside, under a huge shade tree. She could tell just by the way that he was interacting with her that he had no idea who she really was.

Perhaps she should introduce herself, but decided against it just yet. She needed to observe him more closely and ask a few questions before she let herself hope for anything as unexpected and rare as this guy. “So, Arystair, where are you from?”

“Fourth Colony.”

Oh boy. Those two words just explained a great deal. Anne had heard a lot about Fourth Colony from her father over the past few years. From everything she had learned this poor guy must be in the middle of a major culture shock. “Ah. I’m beginning to see the problem. We do things very differently than you’re used to, I’m sure.”

His eyes crinkled at the corners. “You’re not telling me anything I don’t know!”

She smiled back without exactly meaning to. “Now, getting back to that original question you asked me, we don’t use polite terms when addressing people our own age. Not unless we’re mad at them, or we’re joking around.
Hey You
, works pretty good to get someone’s attention. If you’re too polite to say that, just say
Excuse Me.”

If she hadn’t known better, she could swear that he was memorizing every word she was saying. “I see.” He frowned slightly, thinking. “I’ve been told several times by people to not use ‘sir’ or ‘ma’am.’ Is that a general rule, or can I only dismiss such formalities when invited to do so?”