by John Ringo
Mike showed him how to take a good solid shooting prone position on a tarp he’d laid out, then walked him through trigger squeeze and sight alignment.
“Okay, slip the magazine in the well like this,” Mike said, showing him the proper sequence. “Jack back the slide and take your first shot.”
Oleg followed the directions and lined up the target. It was a standard five point shooting target at twenty-five meters. He took his first shot and it was high and left.
“Do two more,” Mike said, watching the shots through his binoculars.
Oleg put two rounds in close to each other and the other was a flyer.
“Okay, you’re high and left,” Mike said. “The second shot was a flyer, you flinched or jerked the trigger, I can’t tell which.”
He zeroed Oleg and the other “leader” types, then got to Lasko.
“I can zero,” Lasko said, getting in a prone position.
He took three shots, slow, and all but the first seemed to miss. But as the Keldara adjusted his zero, Mike took a closer look at the target through the spotting scope. He could swear the hole looked too large for a 7.62.
“Did you just put all three shots through the same hole?” Mike asked, quietly.
“Yes,” Lasko answered, just as calmly. “I am adjusted, now. May I continue shooting, Kildar?”
“Go,” Mike said.
Lasko fired five more shots, all of them making a single large hole in the bull’s-eye.
“Okay,” Mike said, nodding. “You’re good. Very good. Where’d you learn to shoot?”
“I am the family hunter,” Lasko said. “We hunt, a little. I am the best shot in the Keldara,” he added with quiet pride. “This gun is not so accurate, though.”
“No, it’s not,” Mike said. “Okay, troops, you go ahead and blaze away. Lasko, give pointers. Stay on semi-auto; the first guy that goes full auto gets kicked out of the class. I’m going into the house for a couple of other weapons.”
Mike went back to the cellars and got a couple of gun cases and cases of ammo. One of the cases was heavy enough and awkward enough, he had to put it in a rucksack to carry it back.
“How’s it going?” Mike asked Lasko when he got back.
“They are fair,” the older man said. “They have much to learn.”
“Well, we’ll see if you do,” Mike said, setting out the cases and ammo on the rifle range. It was still too short for what he wanted to do but it would work for zeroing. “Come on over here, Lasko.”
He opened up one case and pulled out a Mannlicher 7mm sniper rifle with a 10x scope, then opened up the other and set out a Robar .50-caliber bolt action with a 20x scope. Last he set up a spotting scope.
“Start with the Mannlicher,” Mike said, showing the Keldara how to set up the bipod and take a good position, including setting up the straps. “Bolt action, five rounds. Comfortable with the scope?”
“I love it,” the Keldara whispered. “May I load, Kildar?”
While the other six were blazing away, Mike showed the Keldara how to zero in the scope and use the spotting scope. It turned out that Lasko was a fucking artist with the Mannlicher. After he was comfortable with the weapon, Mike went back over to the others. He corrected a few bad habits they were developing and then ran them through alternate shooting stances. He moved them off the shorter range and over to the longer, pulling up the steel targets and having them engage those.
“Okay, everybody,” Mike said. “That includes you, Lasko. I’m going to show you why you don’t go on full auto.”
There were three silhouette targets that had been set up at fifty meters. Mike had Oleg take a standing position with his AK.
“Okay, Oleg, I want you to use a full magazine to engage those targets,” Mike said. “Single fire, the whole magazine. Shoot one for a bit, then the other, then the other.”
“Yes, Kildar,” Oleg said, puzzled.
“Try to do it fast,” Mike added.
Oleg lifted the weapon and engaged the targets, firing fast but keeping on target. When he was finished with the course of fire, Mike walked the group down to the targets and patched them. Twenty-five of the thirty rounds in the magazine had hit the targets.
“Okay,” Mike said when they were back at the shooting tables. “Now, I want you to take the weapon and put it on full auto. I don’t care how you hold it, just blaze away at the targets.”
“Very well, Kildar,” Oleg said, grinning a bit. He put the weapon to his shoulder, set it on full auto and hammered out the whole magazine in about two seconds.
“That was fun,” Oleg said, smiling faintly.
“Sure is,” Mike said. “Now set the weapon down and let’s go find out how well you shot.”
When they checked the targets, there was one round center of mass in the left target, another in a shoulder of the same target and the other two hadn’t been hit. They patched those and went back to the shooting tables.
“When you fire, the muzzle climbs,” Mike said, picking up one of the weapons and demonstrating without firing. “When you’re on full auto, the muzzle climbs out of control. You may get one round on target, maybe two or three if you train for it, but if you fire off the whole magazine you’re going to hit damned little.”
“I see that,” Oleg said, frowning.
“There’s a way to fire on auto,” Mike said, picking up a magazine and inserting it. He lined up the left-hand target, leaning into the weapon. He hit all three targets with quick three round bursts, moving back and forth until all the rounds were expended. “Let’s check the targets.”
When they got to the targets, they counted the holes and thirty out of thirty were in the targets. All of them, moreover, were in a narrow area from the upper chest to the head and the pattern of the bursts was clear, neat, triangular shots.
“Father of All,” Vil said, breathing out.
“One of them was a nick,” Mike said, shaking his head. “I’m way out of practice. But the point is, if you just blaze away, you miss. Stay on single shot. We’ll practice burst, but in general, stay on single shot. The other point is, you’re not going to be sitting in the houses with your ammo. You’re going to be moving and you have to carry it on your back. And there aren’t any helicopters to bring ammo from God. If you go blazing away, you’re going to shoot yourself dry. Conserve your rounds, service your targets and make every shot count.”
“Is the bigger gun a machine gun?” Vil asked, pointing at the Robar.
“No,” Mike said, shrugging. “I probably shouldn’t have gotten it out. But…” He considered the targeting possibilities and shrugged again. “Oleg, grab the box of ammo, Vil the Robar and Lasko the spotting scope. We’re going to need more range to zero it.”
He took them back to the house and up to the balcony overlooking the harem garden.
“This will do,” he said, setting the Robar on a table and unfolding the bipod. “Lasko, spot my rounds on the third zero target.” Mike loaded a magazine in the weapon and took a good sight picture on the target. The scope was strong enough that the bull’s-eye filled most of it.
“Right, high,” Lasko said at the first round. “Low, left, just outside.”
Mike took five rounds to get the weapon zeroed in to where his last two went perfectly through the X ring. He replaced the magazine and loaded, then swiveled the weapon to look down into the valley.
“What time of year is it?” Mike asked, noting a small group of deer down by the stream. “Spring. Any hunting laws around here?”
“You’re looking at the herd?” Lasko asked, looking through the spotting scope. “That is nearly two kilometers away.”
“Which one?” Mike asked. It was a long time since he’d shot at this level and he wasn’t sure he could make the shot. But he was sure enough to try. Even close would be impressive at this range.
“The bigger darker one on the left,” Lasko said, quietly. “That is the buck. He has nothing to do for the rest of the year but eat. He’s skinny now, th
ough. He’ll be very tough.”
“I’m making a point,” Mike said. “You can have the meat if I’m on.”
Mike looked down into the valley at the trees and tried to gauge the wind. About seven knots from the southeast. Range… if the deer was a meter and a quarter or so at the shoulder he was 1500 meters based on the measurements in the scope. Mike wished for a moment he’d gotten a laser range finder out. There was one sitting in the equipment room but he hadn’t expected to need it. He adjusted the scope and considered his target. Even with the 20x scope the deer was small at this distance. He took a slight breath, breathed out, drew back on the trigger and timed the last bit of squeeze for when his heartbeat was off.
The Robar cracked and Vil sighed.
“Missed.”
“Wait,” Mike said. A moment later the deer took a step forward, then fell to his knees and over on his side. The slush beyond him was red with blood. The other deer sniffed at it for a moment and then trotted away in confusion.
“Vil and Lasko,” Mike said, straightening up. “Get the Expedition and go pick up my deer, please. Dress it and present it to Father Kulcyanov with my compliments and apology for it being so tough.”
“Yes, Kildar,” Vil said, quietly.
* * *
“Right through the fucking heart,” Vil said that night at dinner. “Right behind the shoulder.”
“Formidable,” Lasko said, nodding. “Very formidable. I look forward to what he can teach me.”
“We have a real Kildar again,” Father Shaynav said, nodding. “Not some fat commissar or corrupt policeman, but a warrior as the Kildar should be.”
“I think he should be brought into the mysteries,” Vil said, boldly. “He is equal to them.”
“It is early to decide that,” Father Shaynav said, sternly. “We have not seen him tested in struggle and he still does not know our customs. When he stands the test, when he has been one of us longer, we can consider if he should be brought into the mysteries.”
* * *
“Ladies,” Mike said as the four whores filed into the foyer and looked around in interest. They were each carrying small bags, probably all they owned. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you where you’re going to be staying.”
The harem quarters had been cleaned up but the rooms were still Spartan in the extreme. He showed them to the four rooms he’d chosen for them, had them drop their bags there and then showed them to his office.
“Here’s the deal, girls,” Mike said. “I’ve been trying to figure out how much money you’re making in the bordello. I’m still not sure but it’s not more than ten euros a day, average. Anybody disagree?” he asked, looking at Katya.
“I’ve made more than that,” the blonde said, sadly. “Is that what you’re going to be paying us.”
“You’ve made more from time to time,” Mike said. “And I’m talking about after your split to the house. But on average, you don’t. There are days when you don’t have any customers. So. What I’m doing is paying Yakov ten euros per day to, well, ‘rent’ you. But you’ll be earning thirty euros a day, working.”
“That I can live with,” Katya said, raising one shapely eyebrow.
“Yeah, I bet,” Mike said. “However, besides what you’re experts in, you’ll be expected to act as general house help and hostesses. There are going to be about twenty people staying here for several months. We can get help from the Keldara for cleanup, especially heavy cleanup, but you’re going to be doing some of that, for sure. Notably, room cleaning of the visitors, making beds, things like that. Then there’s being general party girls. You’re getting paid a flat rate, don’t go fishing for tips,” he added, looking at Katya who raised her eyebrow again.
“Room and board will be provided; there’s no kickback. And the board will be better than at that fleabag you’re staying in. On the subject of fleabags, you know how I am about vermin; don’t get a lice attack started. Shower every day, check yourselves for lice and treat yourself as needed. If you suspect bedbugs, see Mother Savina and she’ll work on it. If you see fleas, expect a major assault. This place is clean, now, keep it that way.
“Your rooms aren’t particularly pretty,” Mike continued. “And you don’t have much in the way of possessions. There are some magazines around that have room furnishings, pictures, things like that. There are others that have clothes, including lingerie. I’ll set up two funds. Each of you will be allowed to order from the magazines to the limit of your funds each month. The first month you’ll have about six hundred euros, apiece, to buy things for your rooms. Those will be staying. You’ll also have about five hundred euros to order clothes. Shipping will not be included. After the first month it will go down a bit to two hundred for stuff for the room and two hundred for clothes. If you don’t use one month’s, it rolls over to the next. But use it or lose it; when you leave you don’t get what’s left to have as cash.”
“For that I will gladly stay here for some time,” Katya said, raising an eyebrow. “What about jewelry?”
“That falls into the clothes budget,” Mike said. “Anything you’ll be leaving with.” He looked at the girls and shook his head. “I’m going to rename you all. Expecting troops to keep up with Katya and Illya and Latya will just be too tough.” He turned to Latya, a young brunette, and pointed.
“Flopsy,” he said, then pointed at Illya the slightly “older” all of sixteen, brunette, “Mopsy, and…” he looked at Katya and smiled. “Cottontail. I know you are.”
“Very nice,” Katya said, smiling thinly. “A nursery rhyme?”
“Something like that,” Mike said.
“What about me?” Inessa said, raising an eyebrow and ducking her head coyly.
“Bambi,” Mike said. “She was a good friend and so are you.”
“Bambi,” Inessa said, wrinkling her brow. “I like that.” One of the things Mike liked about Inessa was her simple approach to life; as long as she didn’t have to think too hard, she was happy. That and the fact she could suck a golf ball through forty feet of cheap garden hose, kinks and all.
“Okay, go get settled in,” Mike said. “All of you except… Cottontail. I need to talk to her.”
When the others had filed out he looked Katya squarely in the eye.
“Katya, you’re one hard, cold bitch,” Mike said, frowning. “And you’ve been a pain in the ass to everyone who’s tried to keep you. You know it and I know it so don’t deny it.”
“I won’t,” she said, raising an eyebrow and looking at him coldly.
“I don’t have time for it,” Mike said. “I’m going to have enough on my plate as it is. I’d put you in charge of the girls, except you’d make their lives more of a hell than you already have. And I won’t have it. I want happy young ladies in this house, or at least a semblance of it. You’ve got two choices, a binary solution set as they say in math. You can go with the flow for while you’re here, or I’ll put you down like the rabid bitch you are. I won’t beat you, I won’t rape you, I won’t make you clean the floor with your tongue. I’ll put a bullet in the back of your head and dump you in a grave. Am I clear?”
“Yes,” Katya said, with a voice like ice.
“But I’ll throw you a bone,” Mike said. “What do you want in life?”
“What?” Katya asked.
“What do you want?” Mike asked. “You’re smart; you couldn’t be as dangerous as you are without being smart. So you’ve got to have an idea what you’d rather have in life than this. What is it?”
“I never want to spread my legs for another man,” Katya said.
“Can’t oblige you right now,” Mike admitted. “I need you. But how are you going to do anything without spreading your legs, have you thought about that?”
“Yes,” Katya said, warily. “I need to go to school. Get a job.”
“You’d kill your boss,” Mike said. “You’re going to have to think bigger than a job. Okay, you need to get educated. Stick with me for a while, until I�
�ve got things a bit more settled, and I’ll either send you to a school or, more likely, get a tutor. You’re not socialized enough for most schools; you’d lose your temper and get kicked out. But you have to work with me or all bets are off and I’ll put you in a grave, understand?”
“I won’t step out of line,” Katya said.
“That includes tormenting the girls to get your kicks,” Mike said. “I need them happy and joyfully ready to jump in bed. And I need you to at least play the part. I may not be able to get a tutor until sometime in the summer, maybe even the fall. Just bide your time in the meantime. Can you read?”
“A bit,” Katya said.
“There’s a library,” Mike said, shrugging. “It’s not much of a library, but it’s got some books in Russian. Knock yourself out. When you’re not otherwise busy. Being able to really read is the first step to learning.”
* * *
“Good to see you again, Chief,” Mike said as Adams came up the steps.
He’d sent some of the less insane Keldara drivers into Tbilisi to pick up the trainers. The group had been staying in Tbilisi taking a Berlitz course in Georgian. They’d have to get used to the Keldara dialect, though.
“Good to see you, Mike,” Adams said, shaking his hand. Mike and the chief had gone from BUDS to the same platoon when they started off as SEALs, New Meat as they were called. After Mike left the teams to be an instructor they’d halfway lost touch. On the other hand, the chief had been on the platoon that went into Syria where he’d recognized his old team-bud “Ghost.” Since then they’d kept in a little better touch.
“This is Colonel Nielson,” Adams said, introducing the short, slightly paunchy man who had followed him. The man had black hair and green eyes that were bright with intelligence and maybe a hint of mischief. “He’s got good background for this. Former SF officer, Civil Affairs experience.”
