Special Forces 01

by Honor Raconteur

  Once Sara was satisfied that everyone had enough food, and was eating, she turned her attention back to him. “Now, Arystair, Jeremy wasn’t able to tell me much about what foods you like or don’t like. Perhaps you could fill me in.”

  “Anything that I don’t have to cook myself meets with my full approval,” he answered, barely able to clip off the automatic “ma’am.”

  Sara smiled, and a line of tension eased out of her shoulders. “I could only wish the rest of my children were as easy to please! Have you ever had Shepard’s Pie before?”

  “Once,” Rys replied. He scooped a spoonful into his mouth, and smiled at her when his taste buds sent up signals that could have been seen for miles. “Yours is much better than Erksome’s,” he added with confidence in his voice.

  “Erksome?” Dylan repeated, rolling the name slowly around in his mouth. With his nose scrunched up, that particular expression on his face made him look very much like a young Jeremy Bloch. “Who’s that?”

  “My logistics and supply officer,” Rys answered after hastily swallowing a bite to keep from choking. “Lieutenant Jason Ericsson.”

  Sara’s lips were twitching, as if she were fighting a smile. “And why do you call him Erksome?”

  “Jason possesses the uncanny ability to know exactly which buttons to push, and when, to drive me straight through a wall. He strokes those buttons every chance he gets.” That reminds me, I have a score to settle for that latest little prank. Rys was coming up short on diabolical inspiration at that moment, but he was confident he would conjure up an appropriate response by tomorrow.

  The Admiral started laughing out loud.

  “Don’t you dare,” Rys growled at him. “It was not funny.”

  That only made him laugh all the harder. “A-actually it was h-h-hilarious,” he finally managed to choke out.

  “Now we will all need to hear the full story,” Brandon demanded. He gave Rys a smug smile, one that would have earned him a swift slap on the back of the head if he were a member of Rys’s team.

  Why do I get the distinct vibration that he would enjoy anything that would embarrass me? Rys sighed, and figured he might as well fess up; at least this way he could put his own spin on it. Besides, if he didn’t tell them, the Admiral surely would. “Erksome—and probably Gremlin too—rigged my computer to laugh like someone having a manic break down every time I opened or closed a program. It sounded like some villain, twirling his handlebar mustache, right out of a class B horror flick. And if I hit a certain combination of keyboard commands, it would hurtle insults at me, to boot.”

  “What made it worse,” Bloch added with true merriment in his voice, warming to his subject, “is that he had to use that computer. We didn’t even have a spare he could borrow. Our assigned work area was right in the middle of Command Central, where all of the top brass and bureaucrats could hear it.”

  “Oh, and they could hear it all right,” Rys affirmed darkly. “He tampered with the volume control, too.”

  Everyone’s eyes widened as the full implications of this “techno prank” hit them. Then they all started breaking up, everyone with their own signature brand of laughter.

  “I will kill him when I get my hands on him,” Rys promised himself aloud. “No, a quick death would be too honorable for Erksome; he will suffer slowly for his lack of foresight and self-preservation. I’ll hijack his computer! That computer is closer to him than his own Mother. I’ll have him pulled into the fetal position, sucking his thumb before the close of business tomorrow.” Cheered by those happy thoughts, Rys went back to eating his dinner with true enthusiasm.

  “Have you figured out how to fix it yet?” Dylan wanted to know.

  Rys eyed him. What an extremely inquisitive and focused child; he was always asking questions. Could he be treated like any other green recruit? Possibly. “Not all of it. I figured out the volume control problem first, so I can at least mute it now.” That all by itself was a blessing.

  “Who was the other person you mentioned?” Sara asked, now that a line of inquiry was open into his team. Her eyes were twinkling merrily with repressed laughter. “Gremlin, I think you said.”

  “Lieutenant Bran Gremillion,” Rys responded almost absently. “He would be my team’s computer expert.”

  “All of Special Force 01 is divided into four man teams, aren’t they?” Ashley, quiet until now, surprised him by asking. “Who is your other man?”

  “Lieutenant Dave Snelson is assigned as my weapons expert.”

  “And his nickname is…?” Sara had a wicked smile on her face, anticipating his answer.

  “Snails.”

  “Just because of his last name, I suppose?” Brandon rolled his eyes.

  “No,” Rys refuted calmly shaking his head, “because he is the slowest, most methodical, plodding man I’ve ever met in my life. My entire team could complete anything faster than he could. Granted, he does a far superior job, but Snails can never move fast unless it is a life or death emergency.”

  “You know, they’re not yours anymore,” Brandon pointed out rudely. “You’re not in the Army anymore.”

  That was too much of a direct challenge to let it go. Rys put his fork down, and mentally picked up the gauntlet as he stared Brandon directly in the eye. “They are my men.” His voice was deceptively quiet, but rang with a steel-lined finality. “We might be living in separate quarters, but my team has not been disbanded.” Belatedly realizing what he’d almost let slip he added, “Even if we are no longer in service, they would never be lost to me. We are a cohesive unit, bound by blood, and nothing will ever change that.”

  A wave of hushed and tense silence swept over the table. Even Sara looked a little unnerved by the quiet menace in his voice.

  “You were out of line, Brandon,” the Admiral growled with a dark frown at his son. “I explained this to you two days ago. Special Force 01 is still considered an active force in our military. They’re only on sabbatical for two years, until officially old enough to actively serve.”

  Rys appreciated the support to his cover story, but his gut instinct said that the father’s reprimand would only make matters worse. Brandon already resented Rys’s presence here. Having his father come down on him in front of the intruder, as well as the rest of the family, would not help matters. “I’m still confused why that troubles you so much, sir.” As hoped, his statement drew the Admiral’s attention back to him. “I’ve already been serving for eight years, isn’t my age a rather redundant issue at this point?”

  “No, it is not,” Sara declared firmly, daring anyone to have a different opinion. “You should have the chance to live like a normal teenager, Arystair.”

  Rys held up his hands in surrender. “I’m not arguing against it, I assure you. I just think all of this concern is unnecessary.”

  “You’ll understand our reasoning and concern, Arystair, in about two years.” The Admiral shook his head, dismissing the matter, before the subject could really get rolling. “Now, let’s see if we can get onto more appealing topics. We’ve already enrolled you in classes at our local high school. The original plan called for you to start tomorrow, but you need civvies first. Sara will take you shopping instead, and you can begin high school the day after tomorrow. Brandon goes to the same school, so he can show you around.”

  Rys mentally wrote off any help from the sulking teenager. “Yes, sir!”

  Bloch groaned. “Arystair, that wasn’t an order.”

  Rys out and out grinned. “Habit, sir. Do Cecilia and Cynthia go to high school as well?” He figured they did, as they looked to be about fifteen or so.

  “Yes, we do,” the twins responded in perfect unison.

  Rys blinked. That was definitely going to take some getting used to.

  “They’re a grade below you, so you won’t have many classes with them, if any,” Sara explained.

  Hmmm. Rys eyed his two new sisters thoughtfully. They were both yards beyond pretty and sweet to boot. Would he n
eed to keep an eye out for them? They did have an older brother already, and supposedly that task should fall to him. Then again…Brandon didn’t strike him as the kind to bother sticking his neck out for anyone. I think I better take that duty on my own assignment sheet.

  The twins started to describe what the high school was like, in dual sentences, and what daily hassles he needed to be warned about. Rys listened attentively, consumed three plates of Shepard’s Pie during the briefing, and got a clearer understanding of family dynamics.

  He even managed to draw Ashley out of her shell briefly by asking what she was reading. It was a book he’d never heard of, but it amused him to discover that it was military fiction. He confessed himself to be a closet bookworm; there were hundreds of books downloaded on his laptop. He and Ashley had a pretty animated discussion, talking about favorite authors and books for a while, before a rude comment from Brandon shut her up.

  The more that Rys was exposed to the hulking teenage boy, the more he disliked him. Brandon seemed incapable of letting anyone else enjoy themselves. Rys found him to be small, petty and vindictive. His parents were always quick to correct him, but their reprimands seemed to fall on deaf ears.

  Sara showed him to his room after dinner. It was far more spacious than he could have imagined. Fourth Colony was a large industrial center, but still maintained the close quarters of the Spartan mining colony it started out as. Space was always at a premium, because of the expense of manufactured air, heat, and light. Residing in an Army barracks had reduced the allocation of living space even more. This room had to be a good twelve feet in both directions, unheard of in a single bedroom, even for a Flag Officer. He had a double bed to himself, too, which looked remarkably expansive, soft, and accommodating.

  “This was originally our guest room,” Sara said in an apologetic tone, “so it doesn’t have much personality to it. But you can fix it however you wish, as long as you don’t paint the walls black.”

  Rys looked around, still trying to believe that this huge room was for him. “I’ve never been in such luxurious quarters, ma — er, Sara. I think it’s perfect the way it is.”

  She smiled at him, but that smile had a sad tinge to his eyes. “What were your quarters generally like, Arystair?”

  “A lot smaller,” he responded with a lighthearted chuckle. “Especially the beds! I run the risk of getting lost in this one.” He jerked a thumb to indicate the double bed in the corner.

  Sara smiled at his teasing, her sadness fading. “I’ll get you a safety cord to tie around your ankle, as a precaution! The bathroom for the boys is right across the hall. Brandon generally gets up at seven to get his shower, and Dylan takes a shower around seven-thirty.”

  Rys considered six o’clock to be sleeping in. He wasn’t worried about interrupting anyone’s shower schedule. “I get up earlier than that. It won’t be a problem.”

  “Good. Go ahead and get unpacked and make yourself at home. If you need anything, or have any questions, I’ll be in the kitchen.”

  “Roger that.” Rys waited until she was gone, and the door closed behind her, before sitting on the bed. Closing his eyes, he mentally accessed his com chip.

  Erksome, do you copy?

  “Right here, sir. How is it at the Admiral’s house?”

  Excellent. I’ve been given a very warm welcome, and the size of my quarters is unbelievable. How are you doing?

  “Better than I thought I would be. Mrs. Sharpe is a fabulous cook and a real sweet lady. She already considers me a genius because I fixed her car.”

  That didn’t surprise Rys. If it moved in any manner, Erksome was an expert on it. Car, hovercraft, or Battleship — no exceptions, he was the master of driving it or repairing it. Good. I’m going to check in with the others. Let me know if there are any problems.

  “Right-o, Captain. And shout if you need some wheels. Mrs. Sharpe has these motorcycles in the garage that she claims don’t run. I’ll fix one up for you if you need some transportation.”

  Rys couldn’t help but smile. Some habits die hard. Erksome would probably still be worried about his Captain’s transportation even when they were old and grey and required walkers to get around. I’ll let you know, once I find out myself. Savar, out.

  Taking a deep breath, he called up the next one. Snails, you copy?

  “Here, Captain. Can I call you back? I’m in the middle of dinner.”

  Sure thing. Savar, out.

  Ouch, bad timing with that one. He should have considered that most civilians eat around the same time. Rys might have considered waiting until later to call Gremlin, but since he was pretty sure Gremlin was in cahoots with Erksome… Gremlin, you copy?

  “Here. Hey Captain!”

  Hey yourself. How is the Harlan’s home?

  “Not too shabby. They’re pretty nice people. I even have my own room here. You won’t believe how big it is.”

  I might. Mine’s huge. The bed alone is as big as my old quarters. Are you having any problems settling in?

  “Naw, it’s gone much smoother than I expected it to. They have the cutest litter of puppies to play with over here, too. You should come over soon, Captain. They’re really feisty little fur balls. I think I finally understand why people might want to own them as pets.”

  Rys chuckled at that confession. Gremlin had been completely confused as to the reasons for owning domesticated animals as pets back on Fourth. I will soon, perhaps this weekend. And I’m bringing my laptop with me so you can undo all of those crazy sound effects of yours. I hope you can work and do pushups at the same time.

  “What sound effects?”

  That had been entirely too innocent. Don’t play dumb with me, Gremlin. I know better, this has your smell all over it.

  “Aw, now, Captain, it was Jason that did that. Not me.”

  I know full well that you helped Erksome; it was probably your idea! He’s not computer savvy enough to even dream this up, much less to pull it off.

  There was a knock at the door. Rys frowned, eyeing it. Someone’s at my door. Talk to you later, all right?

  “Sure thing. Night, Captain.”

  Night. Cutting the connection he called out, “Come in!”

  Bloch opened the door and stuck his head in. “Need any help?” His eyes went to the bags—still zipped—on the bed and he frowned. “You haven’t even started to unpack yet.”

  “I was checking up on everyone first,” Rys confessed.

  Bloch relaxed visibly. “I see. And they’re doing fine, aren’t they?”

  “Sounds like it,” Rys agreed easily. “I didn’t expect differently. But some habits are hard to break: I always see to them before I worry about myself.”

  “That’s one habit you don’t need to ever break, Arystair. Now, let’s get you properly settled in and squared away.”

  Chapter Three

  Rys got up at five the next morning, as usual, and took a few minutes to do his stretching routine to limber his body and prepare for his run. He’d slept better last night than he had in months. The fact that this bed was so comfortable probably didn’t hurt his chances for putting together a string of restful nights in the future. When he opened his eyes, it had been his first inclination to stay stationary longer. His strict military training had helped him sidestep that trap.

  If I let myself stay in here longer, even once, I’ll never be able to get up on time ever again. He pulled on the Army issued loose shirt, sweat pants, and jogging shoes before quietly exiting the house. No one was up yet, but Rys had frankly suspected that would be the case. Civilians slept in longer than military people, and physical conditioning didn’t appear to be as high on their list of priorities. He relied on his physical strength and endurance to do his job, and to hold up his end of belonging to a team. Every one of them depended on each other for their safety and survival. To neglect his body would be the same as neglecting to keep one of his weapons in optimal condition. You never knew when you would be called upon in an emergency, a
nd he was determined that this current situation would not lull him into a false sense of security.

  Rys had consulted his laptop last night for a current map of the area, and planned out a route for his daily run. He made notes for several alternative routes so that his run wouldn’t get boring, or too predictable. There could be danger in a set routine that an enemy could exploit to their advantage. There was a small library approximately five miles away that served as a good halfway point. Just running there and back would be ten miles, the distance of his normal workout.

  After a few more stretches for good measure, Rys set out for the library at a graduated jog. When satisfied that his body was warm enough, he slowly transitioned up into a full run. It felt exhilarating to have the wind on his face and experience the smooth pull and release of his muscles. He could let his legs carry him forward on their own, while he savored the feeling of freedom and wellbeing that was always his companion in the early morning hours. This was his time of day, a time when he prepared himself for whatever would come his way.

  He was enjoying it so much that he decided to go a little farther, to a small park another mile down the road, before turning around and heading back to the house. When he arrived in the front yard, he cleared a space from the toys and spent another half an hour completing his calisthenics. It was a well-thought regimen of stretches, sit-ups, push-ups, crunches and speed drills. He completed his workout precisely at 06:00, which pleased him. He liked schedules and routines; it gave him a feeling of continuity, and that was important right now with so many changes occurring. He was feeling warm and limber, and from the sweat patterns on his clothes, was in definite need of a shower.

  Rys had one foot on the porch before he realized that someone was watching him through the kitchen window. He entered through the kitchen door and gave an acknowledging nod to the man sitting there. With his tousled dark hair, bath robe, and slipper shod feet, it was easy to think of the Admiral by his first name today. “Good morning, Jeremy.”