Special Forces 01 (27 page)

He took in a breath and organized his thoughts before launching into the explanation. “I was never put on sabbatical. None of the 01 were. We’re still on active duty.”

Her eyes flared wide, nearly consuming her face. “Then why…?”

“Because we’re undercover right now. What I am about to tell you is highly sensitive. You can’t tell another soul, not even your own family unless they already know about it and you’re talking in a secure location.” Rubbing at the back of his neck, he admitted frankly, “I probably shouldn’t even be telling you.”

Anne actually wrestled with herself for a moment, her hesitation clearly written over her face. In the end, though, her curiosity won out and she whispered, “Tell me.”

From her hesitation, she clearly understood the ramifications. Good. “Nova has been using delaying tactics in the peace negotiations. I’m sure your father has mentioned this to you.”

She bobbed her head in a quick confirmation.

“Their tactics haven’t gone without notice. When they first started, Fourth broached their concerns to the Bijordan government. I think at first no one really believed them, but they agreed to set some people on it. Since they weren’t quite sure what to do with the 01 anyway, they set us on the task. We were ordered to watch Nova, analyze their movements, and determine if they were planning something or not. To this end, they gave us the cover story of being ‘on sabbatical’ and set us up in foster families. That way no one would be paying too much attention to us and we could move about more freely.”

She followed this all carefully, expression becoming very still, almost unreadable. “So living with the Blochs…?”

“Started as a cover story and nothing more. Well, I think Jeremy hoped that by living with families, we’d learn what life outside of war is supposed to be like.” The man was quite pleased his ulterior motives were working out, too. “Becoming…close…to the people around me was outside of my expectations.”

“I’m actually surprised that you have been forming so many close relationships with people.” Her tone stayed painfully neutral as she said this. “Won’t you have to leave us all behind when the mission is over?”

“No.” He came closer, kneeling down so that he could look at an eye level. “Part of our orders is to integrate ourselves as much as we can into Bijordan society. We’re all hoping that if we’re good enough guests, we’ll be invited to gain full citizenships.”

That strange, too-calm tension bled from her eyes and shoulders, and for the first time in the past several minutes, Anne took a breath. “Then you’re staying.”

He frankly didn’t have anywhere else to go, but she probably didn’t see it that way. Feeling the need to somehow connect with her, he reached out and cupped his hands around hers. “I’m staying.”

She let out a sharp gasp of relief, head bending. “Guardians, you scared me. I thought for a moment you would say you’d have to leave.”

He ducked his head enough to catch her eyes. “The only way that would happen is if they rebuild Fourth. And really, even if they did, I wouldn’t choose to go back. After experiencing what it’s like to live on a planet, I will never willingly return to space again.” Honesty forced him to add, “Besides, I’ve built too much here to abandon it so casually.”

She slipped one hand free of his grasp to put it over his, returning the grip he had on her. A soft, sweet smile lifted her eyes and the corners of her mouth. “I’m very glad to hear it. Rys… there’s just one thing bothering me. Can you tell me if Nova really is up to something?”

He shook his head. “I can tell you, but we don’t know. All we know at the moment is that they’re gathering a lot of intel. You don’t need that much information about an ally unless you’re planning something underhanded.”

Her smile faded into a trouble frown that pinched her eyebrows together. “So the war isn’t really over.”

“No,” he agreed on a long sigh. “We’re just in a long pause between battles. But I promise you, we’ll figure it out.”

“I know you will.” Straightening, she gave him a suspicious look. “Anything
else
you haven’t mentioned to me?”

“No ma’am.”

“And if I can help in any way…” she started in a suggestive tone.

“We will call you,” Rys promised faithfully. He even meant it.

“Good answer. Now that we’re finally on the same page, let’s see about getting some sleep. I am exhausted after the events of today — you’ve got to be absolutely worn out.”

He was running a little low on energy, now that he thought about it, and yawned involuntarily at her suggestion.

Anne showed him up to one of the guest bedrooms, which had suspiciously been spruced up by Rosalita, and very recently by the look of it. The big bowl of fresh fruit sitting on the desk near the bed was a dead giveaway.

It amused Rys no end when Anne actually pulled the bed spread up over his shoulders, and gave him a kiss on the on the forehead. He felt like he was a five-year-old.

A much loved five-year-old.

When she was gone, he stared up at the ceiling, thinking of all the things that he had done wrong that day, of all the different steps that he could have taken to lead to different results. But none of those other paths led him to being here, safe and content under Anne’s eyes.

And while there would be a lot to answer for tomorrow, he couldn’t dredge up any regret for being right where he was.

Chapter Fourteen

Rys woke up the next morning feeling distinctly disoriented, as he looked around him. Where… He turned his head and spotted the fruit in the bowl near the bed. Oh, that was right! He was at Anne’s house. Rolling over, he looked at the clock on the other side of the bed, and was astounded as he felt the world slip a little farther away from the norm. It was almost six?! Wow. It was rare that he slept in like this; he doubted that he had moved a muscle all night. He must have really crashed and burned! If he was still in the academy, he would be grinning up at Sergeant Barrett’s disapproving face right about now, having been unceremoniously dumped onto the floor out of his bunk.

Shaking it off, he bounded up out of the too comfortable bed, scrambled into his shorts and tee shirt, and headed out the door for his morning run and PT. Even this late in the morning, there still didn’t seem to be much activity in Anne’s neighborhood. The sun was starting to brighten the horizon, and a bird was singing in a tree as he passed it. Next door there was a lawn sprinkler running, and a man appeared on the porch in his robe, retrieving his morning paper. Rys waved, and the man gave a small puzzled wave in return, clearly amazed to see someone out running at this hour. It felt great to just forget everything, and enjoy the comforting rhythm of his legs, as he consumed the road in front of him. He had no idea where the midway mark in his run might be, he had never been for a run with Anne, so he wasn’t familiar with this end of town. He kept running and enjoying the sights, until he felt confident he had covered five miles. Rys slowed perceivably as he crossed the street, to get a slightly different perspective heading back.

Anne’s front yard was free of the clutter that he encountered on a daily basis at the Bloch’s. Somehow he couldn’t visualize Anne or her younger sister, Candace, playing with toys on the lawn. He moved with practiced ease into his calisthenics, burning off the pent up emotions lingering from yesterday. Rys was amazed when he had counted off the final push-up, it seemed like he had barely started.

There was still no evidence of activity in the house when he let himself back in the front door, so he headed up stairs to get a shower and change into some more presentable clothes. The large grandfather clock on the landing was just starting to announce the seventh hour, sounding its deep resonate gongs, as he headed back down the stairs to the kitchen. His nose informed him that Rosalita was up, and she had preparations for breakfast well underway.

“Good morning, Rosalita,” he called cheerfully as he rounded the last corner, “what’s on the menu for break…” and pulled up short at the sight of a tall stately gentleman sitting at the table, a cup of coffee in one hand, and holding an unopened paper in his other hand. It was obvious he was just sitting down to eat. Recovering from the shock seamlessly, Rys put on his most professional face and called out, “Good morning to you, Vice-Minister.”

Rys was proud of his voice coming across so calm and matter of fact, in spite of the revelation that Anne’s father was home. Mentally he was scrambling for it. There was a strident voice in the back of his head demanding: What the heck is Anne’s father doing back this early?! He wasn’t due in until late this evening! The more flexible side of his processing center responded:
This is his home, he can show up anytime he wants to!

The Vice-Minister of Foreign Affairs had the steaming cup frozen halfway to his mouth, and a plate of scrambled eggs and muffins in front of him. He was still wearing a rumpled business suit that bore mute testimony to the many long hours of travel. The man looked disheveled, tired, and absolutely astonished to see a casually dressed young male come wandering into his kitchen at this hour of the morning.

The hovering coffee cup was set back down on the table with a deliberate clink of china. “Good morning, and who might you be?”

“My apologies, sir, I am Captain Arystair Savar, Special Forces 01.” Rys didn’t feel it was appropriate to salute a civilian, but he did assume the posture of being at attention, to show this very important man due respect.

Dorian’s eyes went a little wide, raising one eye brow at this unexpected pronouncement. It was apparent he recognized the name. “I see. And, Captain, what might you be doing at my home at seven o’clock on a Saturday morning?”

Rys scrambled for an intelligent response to that question, dreading the details. “There was an unforeseen situation at Admiral Bloch’s home last night, sir. He deemed it unsafe for me to remain on site, and ordered me to find an alternate place to billet. Anne extended an invitation to stay here, temporarily, until everything can be sorted out. I expect to return to the Bloch’s shortly, sir.”

Dorian’s eyes edged wider, and you could almost hear the audible click as he mentally pulled it all together. “You wouldn’t happen to be Anne’s Rys, would you?”

I like the way he said that. It has a nice ring to it.
Rys couldn’t help but grin when he responded, “Yes sir, I would. Arystair is my given name, but Rys is what my friends call me.”

Dorian sat back abruptly in his chair. “Please won’t you sit down, Captain? I believe I am going to need to hear the full story.”

Rys sank into a chair across the table from the man who had not broken eye contact with him since the moment he appeared. Rosalita inserted herself in between them, on the pretext of topping off Minister Dorian’s coffee cup, before he could begin constructing a briefing. She was humming brightly to herself, clearing enjoying the look on Dorian’s face.

“Well, good morning, Rys. You were up early! I assume you have already gone for your run, since your hair is still wet. What would you like for breakfast?”

Rys smiled back at her, transparently glad to see her. “Good morning to you, Rosalita. You know my taste; anything you have would be fine.”

Rosalita rolled her eyes, “We go through this dance every time. The kitchen is at your disposal, what would you like for breakfast?”

He blinked at her offer, and considered for a moment. “Would that extend all the way to waffles with fresh strawberries on top?”

She laughed at the sound of the hopeful awe in his voice. “I should have expected that. Do you want some orange juice too?”

He brightened at the notion. “Please?”

“It’ll be ready in a minute. Do you want it in a glass, or should I just bring the carton with a straw?” she matched his grin, and winked at him before heading to the refrigerator.

Dorian didn’t look entirely pleased, as he sat quietly observing their friendly banter. “You know our Major Domo, I take it?”

“Yes, sir. She is an awesome cook, and a very accomplished woman. I am sorry for the interruption, sir; allow me to fill you in on recent events.” Rys launched into a concise summary of last night’s proceedings. Dorian looked decidedly disturbed by his recitation, but thankfully didn’t ask many questions. Rys was in uncharted territory here, and didn’t want to go into more detail than was necessary.

He had barely concluded when Candace sauntered into the room. “Morning, Dad, you’re back early. Welcome home. Morning, Rys.”

“Good morning, Candace,” Dorian replied. He looked from his daughter to Rys and back again, obviously extending his list of things to wonder about.

“Good morning, Snickers,” Rys replied, with a smug grin.

Candace stopped in mid stride, rewarding him with a set of mean eyes. “One of these days, Rys, you’re going to run out of candies.”

“No way,” he dismissed with a playful wave of his hand. “Not with the combined varieties of four world’s worth of candy at my command.”

Dorian’s fingers beat out a brief staccato against the wood of the dining room table. “Candace, what is he talking about?”

“Rys likes to call people by their nickname,” Candace explained as she took a seat near her father. “But I absolutely loathe the name Candy, so we hammered out a deal. He can call me any candy variety under the sun, as long as he never repeats himself. If he slips up and repeats a candy he has already named, he has to call me by my full given name.”

“If you ever catch me repeating myself,” Rys corrected with a gamine grin.

Candace gave him a challenging stare. “A woman has a long memory, Rys, and we can be very patient.”

He met her stare for stare, grin widening by the moment. “Not as long as mine.”

Rosalita came over carrying a plate of strawberries with a waffle lost under them somewhere. Rys dug in eagerly, and sighed in contentment at the first bite. This was the nectar of the Guardians, ambrosia, pure ambrosia!

“Rosalita, will you marry me?” he asked plaintively, feigning a smitten look.

Rosalita just howled, waving his offer away with one hand. “Get on with you, Rys, where did you run into a Blarney Stone on Fourth Colony? What would you do with an old woman like me?”