Gremlin waved this aside. “I’ll take a look at it after this. So I think we only got to look at about a dozen systems altogether, sir.”
“A dozen…” Rys repeated slowly, rubbing at his chin. “Now I understand why you want to look at another hundred before you make any judgment calls. How many hacking parties before you think you can give solid intel?”
Gremlin was struggling not to show it, but underneath his somber face, his inner child was jumping up and down with glee. “Quite a few, sir. It’s hard to estimate it right now.”
Rys absently hoped that Gremlin’s foster parents didn’t have any plans that involved their den in the upcoming months. He doubted they would manage to wrest it from Gremlin’s control now that the young computer genius had managed to sink his claws into it.
“So really, the rest of us are back to a waiting pattern until we have sufficient intel?” Aaron summed up, a slightly disgruntled look on his face.
Gremlin gave a helpless shrug. “Sorry, sir. We just stumbled across this situation two hours ago.”
“Alright, the rest of us are going to go back to observing traffic flow patterns of the Novans and learning how to blend better with Bijordan’s culture while we wait,” Rys directed to the group in general. “Feel free to visit places, gentlemen. The more familiar we are with the planet’s surface, the better off we’ll be.”
Rys sent up a prayer that nothing serious would happen while they tried to figure everything out.
Chapter Six
By the time the next weekend rolled around, Rys decided that meeting Anne was a gift straight from the Guardians themselves. She was very polite, extremely knowledgeable about her culture, and perfectly willing to explain anything he didn’t understand. Besides being the soul of patience, she didn’t make him feel foolish asking questions, and seemed genuinely happy and comfortable spending time with him.
Rys returned home from school that Friday determined to somehow acquire pertinent advice. He needed to know how to go about making permanent friends with teenage girls. Who did he need to tap for such information? Sara would probably know, but asking her would raise more questions than he was willing to answer at this time.
How about asking other teenage girls?
Now there was a thought.
Determined, he went on a hunting expedition.
It wasn’t difficult locating Cecilia and Cynthia. All he had to do was follow the sound of stereo giggling. They were generally pretty happy girls — one of the reasons why he liked being around them. It was hard to remain gloomy when in their company. He knocked on their open bedroom door, just to get their attention.
They had been bent over a pair of textbooks as they sat back to back, obviously doing homework, but looked up at his knock.
“Arystair!” Cecilia smiled up at him, revealing a set of dimples. “Did you—”
“—need something?” Cynthia finished curiously.
I am just never going to get used to that. “I was hoping you could give me some advice,” he answered uncertainly. “Am I interrupting?”
“No, we don’t want to do this anyway,” Cynthia assured him.
“Come in and tell us what’s up,” Cecilia invited.
It had been pounded into Rys’s head that it was not permissible for an unescorted male to enter a female’s bedroom. He hesitated a moment at the threshold. But these are my sisters now, surely that rule doesn’t apply here? The rule had been designed for males with nefarious purposes on their minds. He didn’t have a nefarious bone in his body when it came to women.
He still felt uncomfortably guilty though, when he actually entered their room and sat in the chair they pointed him to.
“So what advice do you need?” Cecilia encouraged, grateful for the break and ready for any challenge.
Rys rubbed the back of his head, taking a moment to consider the best way to approach this delicate matter. “I’ve met a young woman — Anne is her name — who has been very helpful to me the past three days or so. She’s been answering a lot of questions that don’t appear in any manuals on cultural etiquette. And she never acts like I’m bothering her.”
“That’s because she likes you,” Cecilia declared confidently, with a knowing nod to her twin.
Rys looked at her uncertainly. “How do you know that?”
“If she didn’t, she would have politely gotten rid of you by now.” Cynthia exchanged a glance with her sister, and they both nodded in agreement.
That morsel of insight cheered Rys considerably. Maybe he was already doing something right, without knowing it. Beginners luck. “Oh. Good. So, how do I go about becoming better friends with her?”
For some reason, this question made both girls regard each other in a secret code he doubted Gremlin could crack. “Is that what you need to know?” Cecilia was obviously fighting for control.
“Affirmative.”
“Offer to spend some time with her outside of school,” Cynthia advised. “Let’s say that there’s a movie you want to see, or you want to go hang out at the mall, something like that. Tell her you’d enjoy it if she went with you. If she says yes, then she wants to be friends. If she says no…well, you’re out of luck, but at least you don’t have to wonder where you stand.”
That sounded pretty simple to Rys, if perhaps a little nerve wracking. “Roger. Are there any suitable movies playing right now?”
“I’m not sure what you might enjoy,” Cecilia looked at her twin.
“We haven’t looked on the ‘net recently,” Cynthia noted with a frown.
Oh, there were sites on the ‘net that had that sort of information available? Well, that was helpful. “It’s alright, I’ll look it up. Thanks for the advice.”
“Anytime, Arystair,” they assured him in stereo.
I am just never, never going to get used to that.
***
“A movie?” Anne repeated, missing the significance. It was Monday morning and barely eight o’clock, which meant that she was not technically “online” yet. If she had been more alert, she would have caught the subtle nuance of that question.
Arystair rubbed the back of his neck, a shy smile on his face. “Yeah, I wondered if you wanted to go with me. The reviews on the ‘net indicated it was pretty good.”
To Anne’s eyes, he looked as if he was uncertain of her answer, and half expected for her to turn him down. He’s attempting, in his own straightforward way, to become better friends with me. Only an idiot would turn him down, and I don’t think my Momma raised an idiot. “I would enjoy seeing a movie with you,” she answered honestly, hoping to put him at ease.
He visibly perked up; his smile was bright enough to run a solar powered calculator during a math final. “Excellent. When would you like to go?”
Anne couldn’t help but be warmed by that infectious smile. It was difficult to resist someone who was so obviously pleased to be in your company. “I don’t suppose you could go today?” she asked uncertainly, hoping he didn’t already have commitments. “I’m so sick of being stuck in my bedroom studying, or at school, that I could just scream.”
His head slanted slightly to one side as he reviewed his schedule in his mind. “I don’t have access to the car today, unless you have transportation?”
“I have a car,” she confirmed. “I can drive us.”
“Then today is fine. The first showing is at six.”
What, did he memorize the entire schedule to cover all contingencies? He sounded so certain that she would feel foolish asking if he was sure. “All right, then. Where do you live? I’ll come pick you up.”
He rattled off the address, which Anne was pretty sure she could find. It was on a street that she recognized; one of her friends lived nearby. “Give me your phone number, just in case I get lost and have to call you.” He rattled that off too, which she immediately entered into her cell.
They needed to coordinate a little more, but the teacher walked in at that moment, cutting their opportunity short.
Anne had three classes with Arystair, and she had already learned that when the teacher showed up, Rys gave them his undivided attention. He never took notes, and he never opened a textbook, but she understood he didn’t need to. Out of curiosity, she’d asked him one question about biology, and he had been able to answer it immediately. What caught her attention was that it sounded like a direct quote from the lecture.
Nothing got past this guy.
Anne didn’t get much of a chance to talk to him again until fifth period, which was when they had gym class. Her lunch break had been consumed by her sister, who had a minor emergency because of a pair of ripped jeans. Anne had driven Candace home so she could change and headed straight back to school. Unfortunately they lived far enough away from the campus that the lunch hour was over by the time she got back.
They currently had tennis in gym class right now, and she and Arystair were paired up for doubles. He’d never played the sport before moving here, but had rapidly picked up on the game. Anne wasn’t surprised by his ability; everything athletic seemed to come naturally to him. She was a pretty good player, as well, so it wasn’t difficult for them to carry on a conversation as they played. Their opponents didn’t seem to have nearly as much free time to talk.
“You know,” she began as the first volley was served by the opposite team, “most friends have nicknames for each other.”
He returned the ball with an effortless forehand, before looking at her. “Really? It was the same on Fourth. Does that mean I am allowed call you by a nickname?”
This question pleased her. So you already consider us friends, do you? That was the best news she’d heard all day. She had to hit the ball back into the other court before she could answer. “Actually, Anne is my nickname,” she admitted. “My full name is Anastasia.”
The other team had to scramble to get the ball near the baseline, barely returning it in a slow, easy arc in the air. Arystair, with a grin on his face, hit it hard, giving the other team zero chance to recover it. Grumbling, one of the players picked up a fast jog to retrieve the still bouncing ball.
“I love it when they do that,” Arystair commented with a feral grin. “They’re so fun to smash; it reminds me of a kill shot. If I understand correctly, Anne is your nickname?” He gave her a speculative look. “Okay, most of my friends don’t call me Arystair, either.”
This was interesting. “What do they call you, then?”
“Rys.”
He actually looked more like a Rys to her than Arystair. “I like Rys better,” Anne observed. “May I call you that, too?”
That question definitely pleased him. “Affirmative.”
They were distracted by the other team again; they had finally caught up with the ball. “Love-fifteen,” the server called the score as he tossed the ball up, getting ready to serve it.
It was at this point that several things went south all at once. Anne caught an unusual movement out of the corner of her eye. The girl on the next court next to them overextended her racket on a backward swing, and lost her grip on it, sending it flying at a high rate of speed right at Rys. Anne barely registered the danger before it connected with her partner.
Fortunately, Rys’s reflexes were faster, and he threw up an arm instinctively to protect his face. The racket struck his forearm, and glanced off, spinning in a new direction, and finally landed at her feet.
Anne breathed a sigh of relief believing the danger had passed, when she heard a sharp crack, remarkably similar to the sound of glass breaking.
“Nuts!” Rys hissed. His hand dropped the racket, flying up to cover his right eye.
Oh no, did that racket actually hit him in the eye?! Anne flew to his side in two quick strides. “Rys, did that hit you?!”
“Yeah,” he confirmed. He didn’t look like he was in pain, just very worried. “Shoot, I think it’s broken…” He hissed again, with alarm boarding on panic in his voice.
From between his closed fingers, Anne thought she saw a faint wisp of smoke.
Smoke?
Not blood, or any other bodily fluid, but smoke.
The world seemed to shift out of phase, as she tried to make sense out of what she had just witnessed. “Rys, let me look at your eye,” she commanded softly.
His left eye considered her for a long moment before he finally lowered his right hand, and allowed her to have access to his injured eye.
The eye he revealed was nothing like Anne expected. It was disturbingly still now, almost dead, not moving like a normal eye would have. It was still a clear, unusual shade of grey, but near the iris by the pupil she could see cracks. Cracks! It appeared that there were layers of lenses inside his eye that had somehow broken.
Rys’s eye was definitely artificial.
Anne took a deep, steadying breath. She mentally shook herself; her friend had an artificial eye. Obviously, they still had a lot to learn about each other. Her main concern now was for Rys, they could catch up on the details later. “I think I can see cracks in it.”
“Cracks? Seriously? Aw, Guardians.” He ran a rough hand through his hair. “Doc is going to kill me this time for sure.”
Anne didn’t get a chance to ask more questions, as Coach Denman ran up at that moment. “What’s wrong? Savar, are you injured?”
Rys quickly raised up his hand again, shielding the eye from view. “Afraid so, sir,” he answered ruefully. “That racket nailed me right in the eye.”
“I am taking him home right now,” Anne inserted firmly. “I think his parents need to get him to a doctor.”
Coach Denman winced. “Good, I’ll call the front office and let them know. They can contact his parents, and let them know you are on your way. Miss Dorian, I’ll leave him in your hands.”
“Thanks, Coach.” She pulled Rys toward the gate on the court. “Let me grab my backpack from my locker, all right? I won’t take two seconds.” Lowering her voice, she asked in concern, “It’s not smoking anymore, is it?” The unexpected appearance of smoke had been very alarming.
“No, I turned it off.”
That would have to be enough information until she could get him alone in the car. Then she was going to let the questions roll hot and heavy.
Anne used the walk from the courts to her car to make some necessary phone calls. She called her family’s housekeeper, Rosalita, first, letting her know that someone needed to pick up Candace. She smiled at the word “Housekeeper”; it really didn’t seem to suit Rosalita’s job description. A better description would be “Major Domo”, or more properly, “She Who Must Be Obeyed.” Then she called her sister, leaving a message on her message file saying that there was an emergency, and she would be picked up by Rosalita.
Rys listened as she made all of these arrangements with a frown. “I’m sorry. I’m causing you a lot of trouble today.”
“You are my priority at the moment,” Anne said firmly. “My sister will be fine, and live through this minor bump in her life with no noticeable scars.”
They reached her small blue coupe, a sleek and sporty car that Anne dearly loved. She unlocked the doors with her keychain remote. “Get in.”
Anne waited just long enough for him to buckle himself in before she began firing off her questions. “Your right eye is artificial, that’s obvious. Is the left eye artificial as well?”
He was watching her closely, his lone good eye assessing her every facial nuance. “No, the left eye is normal,” he answered quietly. “You’re taking all of this pretty well. Much better than I would have expected.”
Anne smiled grimly as she put the car into gear. “Did you expect me to go into hysterics?”
“No. But most people are decidedly unnerved when faced with the remains of an orthopedic optic replacement.” He shrugged uneasily, looking away.
Anne’s heart constricted in her chest a little. She heard more than he probably intended to say in that simple statement. There was a level of pain and resignation evident in his words. “It is a little out of the o
rdinary,” she admitted. “But I’m more concerned about you than I am grossed out. Don’t worry; it is way down on my weird meter. That eye isn’t hurting you right now, is it?”
“No, there isn’t any uncomfortable physical sensation; everything just suddenly went black on me.” His brows knit together, forming a straight line, as he looked back at her. “And my depth perception is off, again. Don’t be surprised if I fall down and kick myself in the back of the knee.”
“Again? Just many times have you busted that eye?”
“This is my fourth time,” Rys admitted sheepishly. “They’re a little, umm, fragile, and I have a real knack for attracting hits to the head.”
That much was obvious. “How long have you had your implant? It must be state of the art, I couldn’t tell it from the real thing.”
“About three years, now.”
Anne did the math automatically in her head, without thinking about it, and frowned at the conclusion. “How old are you, Rys?”
“Seventeen.” He stared straight ahead, not looking at her.
“…you’re telling me that you lost that eye when you were fourteen?” The realization, with all of its implications, chilled her to the bone. What in the world had he been involved in that would cost him an eye?
He was stiff and wary again, evaluating her mood with weighted caution. “Affirmative.”
“How did you lose it?”
“I didn’t duck quickly enough.” He said lightly.
Anne didn’t need to ask another question. She could put the pieces of the puzzle together, without the benefit of seeing the picture on the box. All of the little things were beginning to add up now, and she didn’t much care for the image forming in her mind. His manner of speaking, the excessive politeness, the unusual metaphors that he used as a reference, everything was skewed toward space or the military. His very deliberate way of standing, and moving, she could now see was military bearing; not to mention the interesting coincidence of which household he resided in at present.
Oh yes, Anne was beginning to understand a great many things.
Toward the end of the war, Fourth Colony had been conscripting young men and women of all ages into the military, desperate for soldiers. When you were fighting for your very existence, you didn’t have the luxury of enjoying a childhood. Her father had told her that some the youngest soldiers were only fourteen years old. Those were trained soldiers! How old were they when they entered the military?
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