Special Forces 01 (28 page)

“I would be your devoted slave, if you fed me like this all of the time,” he answered teasingly, bowing his head in abject humility.

“I am sure George would have something to say about that.” She continued to laugh, until she got a good case of the hiccups. “Come to think of it, a little competition might do him good. A man should never be allowed to become too comfortable and complacent, where it concerns a woman!”

“We don’t want to be rash, and alert him to the impending danger.” Rys wiggled his eye brows at her, making the poor woman laugh all the harder as she retreated back into the kitchen.

Candace eyed his plate with a frown. “How is it that she always fixes what you ask for? I never get that many strawberries!”

“She didn’t even ask me,” Dorian grumbled under his breath.

Rys gave Candace a smug smile. “I’m her favorite; I can be counted on to carry heavy objects for her.”

“You’re a shameless flatterer, that’s what you are,” Candace complained shaking her head. “I guess I will have to go tell her what I want for breakfast.” Getting up again, she headed over to the expansive kitchen, her target firmly in her sights.

Anne wandered in at that moment, still looking half-asleep, even though she was dressed for the day. “Morning, Dad,” she casually gave him a peck on the cheek. “Morning, Rys.”

“Good morning,
Anastasia
,” Dorian greeted sourly, accentuating her proper name.

“Morning, Anne,” Rys greeted her, after he swallowed his bite of waffle, and chased it down with a healthy swig of orange juice. “Did you sleep well?”

“Terrible,” she groaned in response. “I had nightmares all night. And what time did you get up, anyway? I didn’t hear you leave.”

“It was a little before six, why?”

“Rys.” She dragged out the single syllable of his name, and rolled her eyes heavenward, looking for strength. “Didn’t I tell you to sleep in?”

“I did!” he protested.

“What, one whole
hour?”

Dorian shot his daughter a piercing glare. “And why would you happen to be so well acquainted with Captain Savar’s sleeping schedule?”

Anne stared right back at him, puzzled. “Why shouldn’t I be? We’re best friends, we talk about everything.”

Rys concluded, with a shake of his head, that she must still have one foot in bed; otherwise she would have caught the implied nuance behind
that
question. “Anne, you need a translator, morning conversations are not your strongest suit. What your father is wondering is
why
there is a seventeen-year-old male in his house at 07:00,
why
said male appears to have an easy rapport with all of the women in the household, and
why
no one seems to think this is in the least odd or strange.” Rys smiled a knowing smile, and Minister Dorian swung from Rys’s face to his daughter’s face, clearly ready to receive the answer to those questions.

Anne blinked, struggling to process this information, and why an answer to such an obvious question was even necessary. “Okay, if this was any other guy, I could see your concern, Dad. But this is Rys. Rys can be trusted with anything and everything.”

Dorian’s glare escalated, shifting from upset to deadly. “Anne, you don’t honestly
believe
that, do you? I am familiar with this man’s record and reputation, which are both impeccable and beyond reproach —”

Rys gave him an acknowledging nod, grateful for the compliment.

“— but you can’t issue such a blanket statement like that, and expect me to swallow it whole!”

“Especially since you won’t allow me near the stove or the microwave,” Rys couldn’t help but chime in, trying to be helpful.

Anne’s expression was in the process of printing up volumes on that subject. “Rys, I don’t let you near appliances because I’ve seen you burn water. I prefer my food preparation capability intact and in good working order. Aside from that one minor flaw, Dad, yes, I do trust him that much. Besides, what are you worried about? Rosalita and Candace were here, too. It’s not like we were here alone.”

Somehow, Dorian didn’t look entirely placated by this line of defense, and showed every indication that he was not ready to give up a perfectly good pout.

Candace came back in and resumed her seat. “Rys, I haven’t heard from any of the guys in a while. Are they starting to transition and adapt any better?”

“They’re all doing fine,” he assured her in between regular bites that were rapidly clearing the plate of his waffles and strawberries. “Snails is currently blessing his lucky stars you two are such talented instructors. His gym class began six weeks of swimming last Monday, and he was greatly relieved that he didn’t have to walk across the shallow end and make a fool of himself.”

Both girls started laughing. “Our timing was perfect, then! It is official, we are geniuses!” Candace replied, admiring her own fingernails after buffing them on her shirt in modest acknowledgement of her accomplishments.

Dorian picked up on the implication, and immediately began rubbing his temples, as if trying to stave off the headache that was racing at him like an express freight train. “You taught his team how to swim, I take it?”

“No, of course we didn’t, don’t be absurd! The problem was much more extensive than that. We taught
all of 01
how to swim,” Anne corrected in amusement.

Dorian sat rooted to his chair, his eyes frozen on her face. “All of them?” he parroted, as the realization of exactly how many young men that involved began creeping into his voice.

“Danny, you ought to see the look on your face!” Rosalita teased, refusing to cut him any slack. She was carrying Candace’s breakfast in one hand, and gave him a little hug as she passed him. “I was surprised that the pool was big enough to fit twenty-two people in at the same time. I have a whole disc of pictures, if you want to see them.” Dorian made a sound like a duck choking on a cracker. Rosalita pretended not to notice. “Rys, are you up for another waffle? I still have some batter left, and I would hate to waste it.”

“I better not,” he refused with a regretful sigh, patting his stomach with his hand. “I’ve gained five pounds since becoming friends with Anne, just because of your cooking, Rosalita. I may have to start running twenty miles a day if this keeps up.”

“That’s fair enough! Well, how about another serving of just strawberries, then?”

Rys gave her a hopeful look. “May I?”

Rosalita just rolled her eyes. “You treat fruit like it was gold plated candy.”

“Live sixteen years on a world that doesn’t have fresh fruit, Rosalita, and you will be right in line behind me.”

Anne’s mouth was twitching suspiciously, like she was fighting a smile. “It’s probably a good thing Rosalita refuses to marry you, Rys. Otherwise no amount of exercise could save you.”

“You’re probably right, I am pathetically weak willed when it comes to good food,” he sighed, acknowledging his appalling character flaw.

"Anne, what do you want for breakfast?"

Anne hummed, deliberating for a moment. "Actually, what Rys is having looks great! I’ll finish off the batter.” Anne grinned at Rosalita, pleased by her noble gesture and sacrifice.

"One waffle, coming up." Rosalita headed for the waffle iron that was still hot and ready to go.

Dorian cleared his throat, calling their attention back to him. “I don’t suppose I could trouble you for a little more coffee, could I, Rosalita? Not to change the subject, but girls, may I remind both of you that we have General Capka’s party coming up in two weeks? Have you decided what you are going to wear yet?”

They both froze in horror, twin studies in the physical representation of the faces of fright; no doubt a march to a death camp would be preferable.

“Dad!” Anne wailed, pounding her fist on the table, with a booming report. “You promised, after that last fiasco!”

“No more parties!” Candace supported her sister, with a look that meant business.

“But you both adore General Capka,” Dorian reminded them in a patient, persuasive voice. “And he couldn’t love you more if you were his own daughters. It will wound him to the core if you don’t attend.”

“But The Creep will be there!” Candace protested in frustration, spitting out her descriptor for him, sounding like the incarnation of dog poop in an expensive new shoe.

Rys could actually hear the capital letters in her intonation. Who was this person that both of the Dorian girls obviously detested?
And what are his defenses like?

Anne abruptly sat up straight, reanimated with a speculative gleam igniting her blue eyes. “Dad…I’m old enough to bring a date to these affairs, right?”

Her father looked at her suspiciously. “Yes…” he answered slowly, like a man wandering through a minefield with a blindfold on.

“Good!” Anne instantly swung around on Rys, like the targeting system of a laser gun turret, holding up both hands in a pleading manner. “Rys, can I impose on you for a huge favor?”

Rys had a good idea what the favor might be. There wasn’t much he could imagine that he would say no to, when she looked at him that way. “Would you like me to escort you to this party?”

“Yes, please!” She gave him a pathetic, devastating, pleading look. He felt like he was eating in front of a starving child.

“Of course, my distinct pleasure, Ms. Dorian,” he assured her, with a gallant formal bow. Well, as much of a bow as he could manage with the table top interfering. “However, if there is any dancing involved with this detail, your feet will be in imminent danger. I have absolutely no idea how to dance. Are there any comprehensive manuals covering dancing strategies and techniques?”

“Oh don’t worry about that,” she dismissed. “I’ll teach you.”

Rys cast a swift look in the direction of Dorian’s seat at the table, trying to gauge his reaction. From the expression taking up residence on his countenance, it was obvious the man fervently wished he hadn’t brought the subject up. “Sir, I formally request the honor of being your daughter’s official military escort to this function.”

Dorian grimaced like he had a mouthful of sand, and ran a hand through his hair, the long hours on the road finally catching up to him. “Captain Savar, I am confident that you will conduct yourself with the utmost decorum with my eldest daughter. You have my permission to be her escort to General Capka’s reception.”

Rys translated that as
you’d BETTER be a perfect gentleman with my daughter.

“Well of course he will,” Anne declared in a slightly offended tone, as if she couldn’t fathom why her father would ever question that. “Best of all, he’ll keep The Creep at bay.”

“Oooh,” Candace crooned in delight. “That is a scathingly brilliant idea! The Creep wouldn’t dare cross blades with anyone military; he is a bona fide, tin-plated wimp. Rys, would any of your Lieutenants be available for escort duty that weekend?”

“I have no idea,” Rys replied, clearly caught off guard by her question. “But if any of them turn you down, I’ll have them immediately admitted for a thorough psyche evaluation. That would be a sure sign of the onset of delayed space delirium.”

Candace snickered, raising her shoulders and smiling at him. “Rys, you say the sweetest things. What are their numbers?”

“You want all of them?”

She thought about that for a moment, trying to decide. “Give me Gremlin’s first. I hit it off best with him, but the others were all positively charming.”

Charming?! Rys felt like his face was going to break in half trying to contain his reaction. He was going to have to
personally
see to it that particular qualification was included into their permanent personnel profiles. Rys had noticed his team’s blatant attentions to Candace, but the word charming had never occurred to him. He rattled off the number, watching in amusement as she abandoned her breakfast with a “Whoop!” and raced off to find a phone.

“Candace, you are not old enough to have a date!” Dorian called after her in a plaintive voice, clearly too late to intercept his rapidly vanishing daughter.

“I refuse to deal with The Creep single handed!” she shouted back from somewhere down the hallway. “Besides, Gremlin’s every bit as nice as Rys. You can trust him too, Dad!”

Dorian sat back with a defeated thump. For a man lauded for his negotiation skills, he was quickly losing ground with both of his daughters, at an alarming rate. “Who is this Gremlin person, anyway, and why in the world did someone name him Gremlin?”

“That would be Lieutenant Bran Gremillion, sir,” Rys answered, having a suspicion that would be sufficient information.

The Vice-Minister paused, turning to look at Rys with a thoughtful expression. “Would that be the same Lieutenant that broke Nova’s codes on their battleships?”

“I am gratified that you have heard of him, sir.”

Anne looked from one face to the other, eyebrow raised. “I don’t believe that I have heard that story.”

“Actually, you have,” Rys denied. “It was part of the story that Admiral Bloch related about my team saving his life. That was largely because of Gremlin. He cracked the code on Nova’s battleships, initiating their self-destruct sequences simultaneously. Each ship transmitted a destruct order to another ship, shortly before it blew up. Nova had a failsafe in place that prevented just one ship from transmitting destruct codes to the rest of the fleet. Because of his actions, they were in complete disarray, and exploded before they could wipe out our fleet. They had us out numbered five to one when they disappeared in a death knell of pyrotechnics that could be seen for light years.”

Anne’s mouth dropped open soundlessly. “Oh. Wow.”

“He’s one of the most gifted and brilliant hackers that we’ve ever encountered,” Dorian confirmed, clearly impressed. “They’re still examining his methods from that battle, sifting data and trying to figure out how he did what he did.”

“He would be happy to break it down for them,” Rys noted in amusement. “Gremlin adores teaching people about computers.”

“Is that a fact?” Dorian gave him an incredulous look. “Most hackers guard their techniques and secrets fanatically, like they were handing out vials of their own blood."