Chapter Seven: Green

"Hold the elevator, please!"

Ben reached out and stopped the doors from closing as a tall, slim, green-skinned man with long black horns growing out of his head came hurrying down the hall. He wore an open white lab coat over clothing that looked almost like a uniform, and in his hands he carried a tray of covered dishes. His clothes flared out dramatically as he moved and his white hair whipped up as if caught by a wind and he seemed to be moving in slow motion even though he made good time. Apparently it was a demon thing because no one else in the hall seemed to be so affected. The delay allowed half a dozen other people, including some KND security officers and a talking cow in a tutu, to crowd into the elevator as well. Ben tried not to let his annoyance show. It was getting late, he was weary and hungry and he was tired of processing paperwork and dealing with teenage egos and drama mavens and girls that didn't care that he had a steady girlfriend. Food, a shower, and sleep, preferably in that order, were his only priorities right now.

"Has anyone seen Chicken?" asked the cow. "He's my brother."

Odd looks were exchanged throughout the elevator, but no one replied for fear she'd keep talking. The olive green demon looked askance at them, plainly glad he was not involved, and held the tray a little further out of range. If this elevator opened up in the deepest pits of Hell, Ben would not have been even mildly surprised. He caught a whiff of marinara and his stomach abruptly seemed to think that now was a good time to grumble.

"Have you seen him?" asked the cow, pushing her nose into Ben's face. "He's a chicken."

"Uh, not that I know of," Ben responded, wishing there was space enough to edge away, but the cow was jammed in close beside him and everyone else was toting weapons of mass destruction or trays of food. He was desperately glad when the doors opened and the children and animals filed out. Ben motioned for the demon to precede him.

"Oh, no," said the green-hued man with a friendly smile. His face was long and angular and deeply scarred, though he looked as if he smiled often. He wore a patch over one eye and the other was dark red. His voice was very smooth and almost soothing. "You go right ahead."

He was stalling. Having spent the past few days doing exactly that, Ben recognized the technique. The demon must be going down to the laboratory. Ben had doggedly avoided thinking about his latest run-in with Dexter all day. He had his fill of that kid and his attitude and glares and superiority and temper tantrums, having been on the receiving end of all these charms last night. At the earliest opportunity he fully intended to tell Utonium thanks but no thanks, you can keep your little brat.

Suddenly a beep emanated from a comm unit on the demon's wrist. He smiled, trying to ignore it, but it beeped again louder, then louder again, growing shriller at each repetition as if it was getting angry at being ignored.

"Would you mind?" the demon asked, nodding at the tray filling his hands.

"Huh? Oh." Ben took the tray from him. It weighed a ton. The elevator doors closed.

"Thank you." He immediately pressed a button on the device and said, "Yes, sir?"

"Mr. Green," said a very tired, very heavily accented voice, "are you on your way down here?"

Ben tried to hide his surprise. Dexter sounded beat and his words were almost slurred, as if he was in pain. Mr. Green cast Ben an uncomfortable look and said,

"Yes, sir, I'll be there in a few minutes. Are you in your rooms?"

"I'm going back to the laboratory now. I have all my homework done including the essay on The Revolution of the Celestial Spheres."

"I'll collect your work and deliver it tomorrow."

Homework? Dexter was smarter than the combined population of New York and he still had homework? Ben let himself be boggled at the notion.

"Thank you. I'll see you in a few minutes, then."

As he took the tray back, Mr. Green gave Ben a long, steady look, clearly unhappy that he had overheard the whole conversation since it was impossible to mistake that over-the-top Russian accent. For a moment Ben was still, guilt and aggravation waging war in his conscience (aggravation being cheered on by his food-deprived stomach). He had promised Utonium. If he threw in the towel now he would never know what the Professor had meant when he said Dexter was worth the fight, and he would have to tell the man that he was giving up.

Besides, he had seen with his own eyes that beneath that arrogant exterior there was a very human, very ill boy who had started fighting this war long before anyone else even knew that Planet Fusion was targeting the earth. Utonium was right. Like it or no, like each other or no, they needed to get along and work together. If he gave up now, Ben would end up with a two-fronted war: one in the field, the other in headquarters.

And if nothing else, Benjamin Tennyson did not know when or how to quit.

With a wry look at the demon, Ben produced his ID. Shoving it into the slot below the buttons, he inquired, "Going down?"

"Ah! So you're Ben Tennyson," said Mr. Green with a knowing smile. It was evident he knew about the favor Utonium had asked of the teen, because he added, "My backup."

"That would be me," he replied in a surly voice, pressing the button for level nine.

"Go to ten. That's where his work station is," corrected the demon. "I'm Mr. Green, one of Dexter's tutors. Professor Utonium told me you might be stopping by to check on Dexter. You were quite the topic at breakfast this afternoon."

"I'm kinda surprised I wasn't breakfast."

Green chuckled. "Oh, come on. Dexter can't compare to some of the creatures you've faced."

"Wanna bet? Smart is a lot scarier than vicious. Take it from an expert."

"You've just caught him at a difficult time."

That was an understatement. "Sorry if I got him wound up the past few nights."

"From what he told me, he wasn't the only one wound up. It worked out well because so much excitement wore him out and he slept most of the day through. So I owe you some thanks. He needs the rest badly."

"How is he doing? I know he was hurt and that he's been sick."

"As well as can be expected, given the fact that he won't slow down. He's been on a creative tear lately. When that happens we have to just stand back and let him ride it out regardless of the cost."

The doors opened on level nine and they waited for them to close and take them down to the next floor.

"Why can't you slow him down?" wondered Ben.

Mr. Green smiled, but the expression didn't reach his dark eyes. "You can't dictate genius, Ben. There's no turning it on or off, so we have to make the most of the opportunity."

"I know the feeling, sorta," Ben replied, thinking of the responsibility that accompanied the Omnitrix.

The elevator stopped but the doors did not open.

"Hit the open doors button, then 3-1-4-1-5-9," instructed the demon.

Ben obeyed and the doors slid open.

"Pi?" he squawked.

"It's as easy as that," chuckled Green.

"I wish I'd known! I tripped the alarms three times the other night!"

"Oh, I know. So does security. Safety tip for dealing with science nerds, Mr. Tennyson: always ask very detailed questions before starting a new project."

"Yeah, I'll keep it in mind."

He followed the billowing coat and whipping hair down a short hall and around a corner and suddenly the whole lower level of the laboratory was open before them. Green knew where he was going and did not wait. After a moment or two of gaping, Ben hastened to catch up with the demon. He spotted Green in the center of the lab at a compact work station that was boxed in on three sides by computers and equipment. In all his days Ben had never seen so many buttons and flashing lights, not even on Vilgax's starship, the Chimerian Hammer. How could Dexter possibly know what all these things did?

The tall demon had set his tray down on the station and was talking softly to the boy seated there. Dexter leaned his head heavily on his hands and as Ben watched, he pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Rather than disturb Dexter's dinner, Ben held back and listened to them banter

"Vegetable lasagna," announced Mr. Green, lifting the cover off one of the plates.

Dexter squinted at the food. From what little Ben could make out, he was pale as a sheet and looked perfectly miserable. "Who made it?"

"Who do you think?" countered Green in a teasing tone. "Professor Utonium. I wouldn't serve you anything less. He wants to make certain that you eat. Now come on - antibiotics first, dinner second."

Dexter sighed and choked down the handful of sour pills. "They're on the Enterprise. Blossom sent me an email."

At the blatant resentment in his voice, Green replied, "Well, just remember what a rotten sailor the Professor is. He was probably seasick in the port. He's not going to have a minute of fun and I'd bet he's greener than I am right now."

Dexter chuckled a bit at the reminder and began poking at his food with little enthusiasm. "I just wish I could have gone with them."

"I know, Dexter, but you don't need to be there for the testing."

Tersely he said, "The targeting system works perfectly. Do you actually think we'd let them test it on my sisters otherwise? Please. I just wanted to see the superstructure of the Enterprise. I can't go ahead with the design for the Terror until I do."

The demon was not in the least put off by his tone. "I'm sure we can arrange for you to go crawling around the superstructure of another aircraft carrier when you're better. Why not work on the buoyancy system until then?"

He slapped his fork down in frustration. "I can't do that until Dr. Weiss gets back to me with the stress tests on the non-magnetic steel, and he's too backed up by production of the armaplate for the Plumbers."

"Then work on the X-1 August."

"I can't be in the production facility now because of this medication," he replied, his voice sharp. "And the sealant around the engine housing is faulty. After last night it will be another week or more before I can figure out why it became brittle so quickly."

Smoothly Mr. Green replied, "In other words, nothing will get done until you get better and you won't get better until you start to eat more. So eat."

The logic was inarguable, though Ben was fairly certain that Dexter could argue any topic to death if he really wanted. With a sigh Dexter picked up his fork again and slowly began to work his way through the lasagna. Ben had never seen anyone tackle a meal with so little enthusiasm. He hadn't quite realized or appreciated the amount of pressure Dexter was under not just from this fledgling war, but from being the owner of a corporation as vast as DexCorp. Green gave the boy a few minutes to eat, stepping to another station to check through the stack of paperwork that must have been the homework Dexter had mentioned earlier.

"What did you think of The Iliad?" he asked conversationally.

Dexter swallowed hastily. "It was much better than The Odyssey."

"What did you feel was the underlying conflict?"

"Infidelity, starting with Zeus and working its way down through the ranks."

Green's eye grew large and he looked up in surprise. "Oh, I'm definitely going to have to read that essay."

The redhead made a little sound in his throat and smirked at his teacher's tone. Ben found himself smiling as well.

"How's your headache?" his tutor asked casually.

He grumbled and shook his head.

"Could you do with some company?"

Dexter frowned. "Please not DeeDee. Not now."

"Not up to a recital?"

"No."

"You haven't learned that music yet, have you?"

"No."

"Haven't even looked at it, have you?"

"No! And don't tell her that, either!"

"Don't worry. It's not DeeDee."

Dexter growled in annoyance, but nonetheless poked under the other covered dishes and found a plate of cooked broccoli. He gestured at it with both hands and glowered at the horned demon for withholding his favorite food. Mr. Green countered with stubbornness, folding his arms and looming tall over the seated boy.

"Your father would be completely furious if I let you eat your dessert first."

"This is not dessert."

"For you it is," Green replied.

"Are you picking on me?"

The demon grinned fondly, showing ivory-white fangs. "Yes."

Dexter actually smiled, his mood improving at the gentle teasing. "What company, Mr. Green? Number Two isn't trying to get in here again, is he?"

"No, he's switched his fan affiliation to the Professor."

"Small blessings, I suppose. For me, at least."

"He's still trying to get an appointment to see you."

"No." He waved a piece of broccoli at his teacher. "What the KND consider technology and what I consider technology are not exactly on the same plane. I hardly have time to deal with Number Two's notion of science. KND shoot mustard. I shoot laser cannons."

Ben clapped a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing aloud. Dexter ranted on.

"I erased that idiot Twenty-Seven's memory of me four times and they kept sending him back. Dolts. I want nothing to do with the claptrap they call technology."

"They're highly innovative," defended the demon.

"Perhaps, but they also regard condiments as projectiles. Most of their battles are food fights."

He could not help it. A snort of laughter escaped Ben. Dexter heard, though with the laboratory's dim lighting and without his glasses on he did not have a chance of seeing far past his nose.

"Mr. Green?" he demanded suspiciously.

"I just bumped into someone you know on the way down." He waved Ben over to join them. "I brought him along because I thought you might enjoy someone else's company for a while."

Dexter closed his eyes with a sigh, guessing the truth as he recognized the bright green of Ben's jacket as the older boy approached. "Mr. Green?"

"Hmm?"

"You're fired."

With an amused smile the demon replied, "You can't fire me. I work for the president of DexCorp, not you."

"I can try," the boy muttered.

Ben drew nearer to the work station. Mr. Green took a rolling chair from one of the other stations and moved it across from Dexter, gesturing for Ben to sit. From the tray of food he produced a plate of cookies, which he set on the work station before returning to his perch to look over Dexter's homework.

"Hey, Dex," Ben said quietly, dropping into the seat. He gazed at the younger boy, sympathy washing over him as he took in his obvious exhaustion and discomfort. "How are you feeling?"

"Awful," snapped the Russian accent. He made no attempt to disguise his feelings on the matter, but Tennyson just rolled with it.

"Yeah, you look done in. So what's the Terror?"

Ben was on the receiving end of a long, assessing, narrow-eyed look. He felt as if he was under a microscope, but he realized after a moment that the intensity of the look was due in part to the fact that Dexter's unassisted vision was terrible and he was squinting in an attempt to see Ben clearly.

"Have you read any of the works of Jules Verne?" he asked presently, picking at the vegetables.

"No, but I've seen a few movies based on his stuff," Ben replied, glad that there was no mention of last night's debacle. He suspected Mr. Green's smooth and calming presence was going far toward keeping that red-hot temper in check. He was a good counterbalance to Dexter's sharpness.

The owner of DexCorp made a face, dismissing the movies with an impatient wave of his hand. "The Terror was an all-purpose vehicle that was the masterwork of Robur from the novel Master of the World. The battle cruiser I'm designing is named for that vessel."

"Battle cruiser?" echoed Ben.

"We are at war, are we not?"

Ben felt himself frown. "Dex, do you make anything that isn't geared toward blowing things up?"

Coolly he replied, "Yes, I do, but only when I have the luxury of peace. Until the earth has beaten back Fuse, I'll make weapons."

"I didn't mean to criticize. It's just even with a war on there's a bit more to life than work."

The redhead huffed a small laugh. "You sound like Professor Utonium."

"I'll take that as a compliment." Ben grinned as he helped himself to a cookie. "Thanks."

Dexter hesitated, gauging Ben's reaction, considering his presence and persistence, and gradually relaxed a little. He speared another piece of broccoli. Softly he said, "I meant it as one."

Ben leaned on his hand. "So you like science fiction? Ever read War of the Worlds or hear the radio show of it?"

"Radio show?" wondered Dexter, unwittingly opening a whole new can of worms.

Over to the side, Mr. Green smiled knowingly as he pretended to read through Dexter's essay, listening to Ben expound on the presentation that had panicked America back in the 1930's. Professor Utonium had been absolutely right, of course, when he had told the demon that Max Tennyson's grandson would be an excellent foil for Dexter. As he watched them together, Green's doubts quickly evaporated. It was impossible to match Dexter's intelligence, but his experiences and exposure to the world beyond the confines of his laboratory were extremely limited. Ben wanted nothing more than to connect, and he was not intimidated by the sheer, overwhelming genius sitting opposite him.

And that, Green knew, made all the difference between earning Dexter's respect or suffering his disdain.