A Deeper Blue

by John Ringo

  "Oh, hardly," Mike said. "Actually, I don't think most of them were actually dead when we buried them."

  "So the ICC will be bringing charges," Gonzales said, shaking his head. "I am so sorry."

  "Oh, hardly," Mike repeated. "No, no, rest assured on that stake. The ICC was presented the information and refused to even view the evidence."

  "Why?" Montcrief asked, honestly curious.

  "Probably something about the governments of Russia, China, Japan, Germany, England, France . . . Oh, it's a long list, telling them to mind their own business," Mike said, smiling thinly. "The ICC can only exist with international support. When they considered touching me they were disabused of their . . . notion of power."

  "Why?" Montcrief asked.

  "Well, they all like my beer, don't they," Mike said, taking another sip.

  "So you consider yourself untouchable?" Gonzales said, his jaw working.

  "Oh, no, I've frequently been touched," Mike said, pulling Bambi into his side. "Isn't that right, babe?"

  "Oh, yes," Bambi said, giggling. "He gets touched all the time. Why, I once saw him touched by over a dozen—"

  "That's enough, dear," Mike said, slapping her on the ass. "Why don't you go see if there's a dance floor?"

  "Okay," Bambi said, giggling again. "I just love dancing!"

  "I, too, have guests I must attend to," Juan said, setting down his half finished glass of beer. "If you'll excuse me?"

  "Absolutely, Mein Host," Mike said, picking up the glass and topping off his own. "You go."

  "That's a very dangerous enemy you just made," Montcrief said.

  "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, Colonel," Mike said. "By the way, your wife's name is Deirdre, right?"

  "Yes."

  "This is a very nice party," Anastasia said as she and Greznya approached the dance floor. Most of the dancers were women and most of those in their early twenties. Most of them had come with the men who were doing business of one sort or another on the rear deck; there were enough trophy brides on the dance floor to host their very own convention. "I used to love to go to the club in Samarkand."

  "I've never done this sort of dancing," Greznya admitted. The two were speaking Keldara, which was close to Georgian but had not only a very different accent but various loan words that weren't in any database Greznya was aware of. Even if anyone was monitoring over the industrial "club" music, hard to do, it was unlikely they could do a full translation.

  "WOOO-HOO!" one of the girls hooted, stumbling out of the crowd. She was obviously drunk off her ass already. Pretty with heavy makeup, she was close to the spitting image of Britney Spears. The large and impossible to cover bruise on her cheek, however, was off-putting. "This is a GREAT party!"

  The girl had a bottle of tequila in her hand and handed it to Anastasia.

  "I'm Alicia!" she said, happily. "Who're you?"

  "Anna," Anastasia said, looking at the bottle in her hand blankly.

  "You've got a funny accent," the girl said. "Russian?"

  "Georgian," Greznya said.

  "Nah, I heard a Georgia accent before," the girl said in a thick southern drawl. "Ain't like yer's a t'all!"

  "Oh, Father of All," Julia muttered. "What is that girl playing at?"

  "What?" Olga asked, coming over to look at the monitor. As always, it was jerking around as Katya's eyes moved, but they settled for a moment on Anastasia's face and then Greznya's. "Oh, that is bold."

  "Katya," Julia said, tapping the transmitter. "We know you're there. But thanks."

  "Drink up, girl," Katya said, gesturing at the bottle. "This ain't yer Russian vodka. That there's te-queee-la! That's a pahty drink!"

  Greznya took the bottle from Anastasia's unresisting hand and took a swig. She felt a capsule drop into her mouth and tongued it over to the side, drinking as little of the raw spirits as she could.

  "Wooo," she said, having a hard time with the hoot while holding the capsule in her cheek.

  "Come on!" Katya said, taking the bottle back and taking a swig. "Let's party!"

  "What just happened?" Julia asked. The monitor had flickered so fast she hadn't been able to follow it.

  Olga hit the replay and backed up, going frame by frame.

  "There," she said. There was a very brief flash of something sliding down the neck of the bottle. Katya had been watching it, too.

  "God, I hope their people didn't catch that," Julia said.

  "Be hard," Olga replied. "They're watching a lot of people."

  "Two of the females with Jenkins have hooked up with Alicia," Suarez said when Ritter walked back in the room.

  "Can you filter for conversation?" Ritter asked.

  "With Alicia?" Enrico said, chuckling. "It's mostly 'WOO-HOO' or 'PAR-TEE.' But, yeah, and I listened in. She's just learned that there's a country called Georgia as well as a state and isn't assimilating it well. That girl is just about dumb as dog shit."

  "No pleas to be rescued?" Ritter asked. "How about transfers?"

  "She doesn't have any pockets," the computer guy said, backing up the recordings and starting at the beginning. "The only thing that's been transferred is a bottle of tequila which is rapidly disappearing."

  Ritter replayed the video and watched the American girl's hands. She hadn't touched anything but skin on the two girls. Nowhere near their clothes. Although she . . . He backed up and watched her interaction then grunted.

  "What?" Suarez asked. "What did I miss?"

  "That that little bitch is bi," Ritter said. "She's making moves on the blonde, Rakovich."

  "I think this might make video of the week," Enrico said, leaning forward.

  Anna was enjoying the dancing but not the company. The American girl was extremely loud and kept touching her.

  Anastasia had played with her friends in the harem. Otryad was as regular as clockwork about his sex with the girls and, frankly, lousy. You had the choice of your own fingers or others' and she had even enjoyed it. But she was not naturally bisexual; she liked men, preferably men holding a whip.

  The American girl, though, was clearly bi. And she'd settled on Anastasia as a play partner.

  Anastasia had, also, virtually no experience with anyone trying to pick her up. She knew that was what was going on and wasn't sure how you said "No." Saying "No" wasn't anywhere in her training.

  As the dance number stopped the drunken girl let out another hoot and grabbed her, sliding her hand onto her breast.

  "You are so hot!" Alicia said, pulling her head down. "Gimme a kiss!"

  "Please," Anastasia said, jerking back. "I don't . . . I'm not . . ."

  "Oh, quit lying," Greznya snapped. "You know you are, you're just shy," she added, grabbing Katya. "I'm not, though. Forget the blonde, how about a redhead."

  "Oh, yeah!" Alicia said, sliding into her arms.

  The group let out a loud holler as the two women started kissing on the dance floor.

  Naturally, quite a few of the men drifted over as the two started a hard make-out session, writhing with the new music.

  "What's going on?" Mike asked as one of the men came back, shaking his head and grinning.

  "Couple of girls going at it on the dance floor," the guy said. "And I mean 'get a room' going at it."

  "This I gotta see," Mike said, walking over.

  The crowd at the door was thick so he eventually just hopped up on a chair. Several of the men had.

  When he saw what was going on, though, his mind froze. Anastasia was standing in the middle of the dance floor, hands on hips and looking more pissed than he'd ever seen her while Greznya was . . . Jesus was she making out with some chick that was a total blank to him.

  Greznya. Making out. In public. With a woman. He got a hard-on just thinking about it, much less watching. They weren't just kissing, either, their hands were all over each other. And they'd started a cascade, a bunch of the girls, probably because nobody was watching them, had started doing the same thing.

 
As Mike watched, frozen, Britney strode across the floor, pushing dancers and other couples out of her way and walked up to Greznya, yanking her back.

  Britney wasn't sure what was going on but she knew that it was something. Greznya simply wasn't the type to make out in public. Which meant she was doing something in regards to the mission.

  And the toughest moment is always when you're trying to egress Injun country.

  But she had an answer to that, too.

  She walked over and yanked Greznya off the other girl then slapped her, hard. She didn't know if Greznya could fake taking a blow and wasn't going to try under the circumstances.

  "You bitch!" she screamed. "You two-timing bitch!"

  Greznya had nearly lost the message capsule but managed to catch it at the last moment. She ducked down, her face working and trying to summon up tears. They didn't come naturally to the Keldara.

  "I'm sorry, Bambi . . ." she sniffled. "I'm sorry . . ."

  * * *

  "How dare you!" Katya screamed, grabbing the blonde by the hair. She'd seen her come in with the Kildar but didn't recognize her. From the accent she was a real American, probably the liaison officer. "Just because you can't keep her satisfied . . ."

  If the make-out session had had everyone riveted, the two swearing women, tearing at each other's clothes and hair, had them cheering.

  Mike jumped down off his chair and forced his way through the crowd, making it to the two before the bouncers. Shota was right behind him. Quite a few people trying to get a better look bounced off unnoticed.

  "God damn it!" he bellowed, grabbing the by now half-naked Britney and pulling her away from the girl. She had the other girl by her long blonde hair but he managed to pry her fingers off, simultaneously shoving the stranger away. "Bambi I am going to tan your hide! I swear I can't take you girls anywhere!"

  "Oh, get your fucking hands off of me!" Britney swore, lunging at Katya. "I'm gonna tear that bleached hair out of your head, slut!"

  "That's enough," Mike shouted, pushing her towards Shota, who got a grip on her upper arm that the lieutenant wasn't going to break in her wildest dreams. "Anna, Grez, come!"

  "I'm very sorry about this," Mike said, as he passed Gonzales on the way to the door. "The girls were just having too much fun and it went to their heads. I apologize."

  "Not a problem," Gonzales said, grinning. "It will be the talk of the harbor for at least a week."

  The security had spotted that they were exiting and Mike's Cigarette was alongside before they'd made it to the ladder, Mike dragging Greznya and Anastasia by their upper arms.

  "I am so going to tan your hides," Mike said. "And Anastasia! I'm surprised you let this happen!"

  "I'm sorry, Kildar," Anastasia said, practically sobbing. "I don't know what happened . . ."

  "We are going to have a serious spanking session when we get back, that I can assure you," Mike said, shoving the two girls into the boat. "One that you are not going to enjoy."

  "Are you sure?" Ritter said, looking at the video. "Nothing was passed?"

  "Not a thing," Suarez said, standing up, a flash stick in his hand. "Trust me. I reran that clip a dozen times. Maybe more. Zoomed in all over it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to my quarters . . . ."

  Mike jerked the two still-pouting girls out of the boat and dragged them up the stairs, Shota still dragging Britney and Oleg stumping along behind. He took them downstairs but instead of turning towards his bedroom, took them down to the intel shack. As soon as Oleg followed and shut the door, Britney dropped into a chair and started laughing so hard she choked.

  "I don't know exactly what just went on," she said through the tears, "but I'm pretty sure it was a drop. Right?"

  "Yeah," Greznya said, pulling the capsule out of her mouth. "Father of All, Lieutenant, you were wonderful."

  "That was Katya," Mike said, chuckling. "Damn. Even I didn't recognize her."

  "We were dying over here," Olga said. "When the lieutenant called Greznya a two-timing bitch . . . Oh, All Father." She started laughing again, helplessly.

  "How'd you recognize her?" Mike asked.

  "I knew Katya was there and couldn't leave the boat," Greznya said, shrugging. "When an American girl came over and started woo-hooing I knew it had to be her. So I had a drink of tequila. She'd put a message capsule in it. I think she offered it to Anastasia first, knowing that Stasia would be too . . . refined to drink from the neck of the bottle."

  "And making out?" Mike asked, raising an eyebrow.

  "She was trying to start a fight," Greznya said, shrugging. "If Stasia had been more prepared for this sort of thing, she probably would have started the fight. As it was, the lieutenant did nicely."

  "Yeah," Britney said. "But, damn, that girl can hit."

  "She can do more than that," Mike said. "Be glad you're alive. What did we get?"

  Julia had opened the capsule and extracted the note.

  "Set of signals and pick up and drop points," she said. "Probably for Jay."

  "So we can signal Jay that Katya can't get off the boat," Mike said, nodding. "Hopefully he's developed some data." He considered the situation, then nodded again.

  "We're moving," Mike said. "Up towards the new base. Time to off-load some of the troops and get the base set up. Julia, you and . . . Lilia hang back. With a team of security. Take a hotel room and do a drop. Does anybody know if Jay has our codes?"

  "We've got codes for him," Greznya said, rubbing her cheek. "By the way, Lieutenant, Katya's not the only one who can hit."

  "Sorry about that," Britney said, grinning.

  "Okay, make up a micro of everything Jay needs to know to date," Mike said. "Do the drop tomorrow. Take some gear with you but you're not going to be secure; Gonzales is definitely onto us. But do the drop and wait for a pickup. We'll be back in two days."

  Chapter Eleven

  The run up to the Abacos was done overnight so when Mike woke up the next morning the yacht was docked at an island that was in the middle of nothing but green and blue seas.

  The island was a remote outlier of the Abacos chain, the buildings originally part of a lighthouse, the tower to which remained. It had been bought in the early 1900s by a wealthy British shipping magnate and upgraded to the then standards of modern. Over the years it had passed through several hands, and several upgrades, and was currently owned by an American information-tech CEO. He wasn't stupid though. He only visited the island a few times a year. The rest of the time it was rented out to discerning clientele. The definition of "discerning" was anyone willing to spend a half a million dollars a week and plunk down a larger deposit against damage.

  Mike was feeling worn out, though, so he more or less sat out the initial transfer as the Keldara were ferried to the island via the boats. The five new speed boats had turned up, after one hell of a long run, and Mike had Vil's team crash while others, including members of the yacht's crew, did the ferrying.

  He was holding back Yosif's team and the rest of Vil's on the yacht for security. With the rest of the Keldara gone they were finally able to stretch out. The Keldara had been packed below like sardines. Even a hundred-and-fifty-foot yacht didn't have enough room for them all.

  Yosif was coming back on one of the boats and as it approached the ship he said something to the driver, one of the yacht crew, who slowed the boat. Yosif, cautiously, slid over the side of the boat and began swimming towards the yacht. He didn't do it really well, what used to be called a California crawl, arms windmilling in a crawl but with his head out of the water. But he was clearly enjoying himself, given the grin on his face.

  Mike watched him for a second, then frowned. He'd never seen the Keldara swim, didn't even know they knew how. But Yosif was doing pretty well. Not exactly Olympic quality, but he'd clearly been in the water before and wasn't afraid of it.

  "Yosif," Mike said as the team leader came up the ladder, horking some water out of his ear. "I didn't know any of the Keldara could swim."


  "Not many," Yosif admitted. "I enjoy it, though. There is a deep spot in the river, where the Karl stream joins. It is cold though. This water is . . ."