by John Ringo
“A weapon is a system for applying force,” Mike said. “Force like that can only be used for destruction, but sometimes you can use it for stuff like this, yes.”
Mike was placing a quarter pound of Semtek under a rock the size of a recliner when he heard light footsteps coming up the path.
“You were supposed to go home,” Mike called.
“You have not had dinner, Kildar,” Katrina said.
“And it’s nearly dark,” Mike pointed out, straightening up and turning around. The girl had a basket that probably held food and a bucket with three beer bottles in it. “You’re going to get yourself in trouble coming out into the dark with a man you’re not married to.”
“I was sent out,” Katrina admitted. “But I asked when the men came back. You should eat.”
“I was going to when I got back to the house,” Mike pointed out. “That’s why I have a cook.”
“I called Mother Griffina,” Katrina said, opening up the box and laying out a colored cloth, then pulling out food. “You have been working all day and you did not eat lunch. You will eat.”
“I’m going to wash my hands first,” Mike said, uncomfortably. The girl was about fourteen if she was a day. Not to mention bloody gorgeous. And in her society, being alone with a man was tantamount to admitting you weren’t a virgin. And if you weren’t a virgin, you could never get married. He couldn’t imagine Father Devlich simply letting her come out here to have dinner, even if it was with the Kildar. It was literally unimaginable. On the other hand, there was no way she could have prepared a supper like this without permission; the Keldara were far too careful of their food use.
By the time he got back to the little picnic, Katrina had laid out a plate of cold chicken and potatoes with a small mess of spring greens. A bottle of beer was open and sitting next to it.
“And what are you going to eat?” Mike asked.
“I’ll eat when I get home,” Katrina said, archly.
“Don’t think so,” Mike said, sliding the plate between them. “Eat. So tell me how you really managed to convince them that you should come out here.”
“I simply pointed out that you hadn’t had lunch and that you were going to be late for dinner,” Katrina said.
“And you’d been watching what I ate?” Mike asked, pulling a drumstick off the chicken and handing it to her.
“Everyone knew that,” Katrina said, accepting the chicken diffidently. “The old women had been clucking about it half the day.”
“Oh,” Mike replied, uncomfortably. He knew the Keldara watched him, but he wasn’t aware that the scrutiny was that intense. “And they just let you come out here?”
“Yes,” Katrina said then sighed and shrugged. “I probably would have been sent to town this year if you hadn’t said no one would be. No family will have me. I’m too—”
“Different,” Mike said. “Hardheaded and all that, too. But mostly it’s that you don’t fit the Keldara mold. You’re damned pretty, though,” he added, then realized what he’d said and cleared his throat.
“Pretty doesn’t matter,” Katrina said, a touch angrily. “I know too much, I think too much. And I say too much,” she added, sighing again. “Usually at the wrong time. So… coming out here was not such a… loss to the Family. Whatever anyone thinks. Besides, I’d already been with you. In the car. Remember?”
“Vividly,” Mike admitted. There was just something about snow, even if you thought you were going to die in a blizzard, that was romantic. “So what are you going to do with your life?”
“I’m probably going to be the old aunt that does all the work,” Katrina admitted, shrugging. “Or I’ll run away to town. I’m not sure I can handle being the last woman my whole life.”
“Don’t run to town,” Mike said, sliding the plate closer and handing her the fork. “Bad as it is here, it can be infinitely worse in the hands of the slavers. Some of them aren’t all bad, but you don’t get to pick and choose in advance.”
“There’s another choice, of course,” Katrina said, taking a small bite of potato and handing the fork back. “The Kildaran.”
“I take it that means the wife of the Kildar,” Mike said, surprised at her boldness. “Ain’t gonna happen.”
“Actually, it’s the woman of the Kildar,” Katrina said, taking a small bite of chicken. “Not the wife. I’m not sure of the right name for you.”
“Concubine?” Mike asked. “Mistress? Katrina, there are reasons I don’t have people close to me. You don’t want to be one of them.”
“You’re wrong in that, Kildar,” the girl said, setting down the chicken and looking him in the eye. “I know you have enemies. But I’m strong and I’m the right woman for you.”
“You’re a girl,” Mike said, shaking his head. “In my country, even thinking about fooling around with you is a capital crime.”
“Latya, the one you call Flopsy, is younger than I am,” Katrina said, evenly.
“I’m not terribly happy about that,” Mike admitted.
“And you like Inessa,” Katrina continued, remorselessly. “Because she looks like me, I think. Is it that I’m too smart? Too… headstrong? You like weak women?” she ended angrily.
“No,” Mike admitted, unwilling to meet her eye. “But I don’t want you getting hurt. Either by being here, with me, or by living with me and being a target.”
“I am a woman, Kildar,” Katrina shouted. “This year I would be married if it weren’t for nobody wanting me! And you do want me, I know that!”
“Yes, I do,” Mike said, finally looking at her, his eyes hot and face hard. “But I’m sure as hell not going to take you here on the grass. If the time comes, if it is right, I will consider it. But until then, you’ll have to wait. Understand? Can you do that? You’re an impatient bitch.”
“What’s a promise from a man worth?” Katrina asked, bitterly.
“From one that’s not trying to get in your pants, usually a lot,” Mike said. “And it was anything but a promise. Let things get stable and we’ll discuss it. But right now, it’s out of the question.”
“I’ll wait,” Katrina said, furiously. “For a while, Kildar. But only for a while. You have shown that you will do things even that you don’t promise. For that, I will wait.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Hey, Kildar,” Killjoy said as Mike walked in the caravanserai. The former Marine was sitting in the foyer area with Flopsy curled into his side and a glass of beer in his hand. “This beer is fantastic, you know that? You ought to sell it.”
“They make it in small batches,” Mike said, absently. “You using Flopsy at the moment?”
“No,” Killjoy said, giving the girl a slap on the rump. “Up and to your master, little one.”
“You want me, Kildar?” Flopsy asked.
“Very much,” Mike said, taking her by the wrist and leading her to the stairs. “If anybody wants me, I’ll be busy for a while.”
* * *
Mike pulled up to the police station and got out wondering why he’d been called. All that Vadim said was that he needed to talk and not over the phone. Although Mike could call the police station on his sat phone, the local phones used a party line and were less than secure.
“The season starts,” Vadim said, walking out the front of the headquarters as he was throwing on a light jacket. He waved for Mike to get back in the Expedition. “Please, Kildar, it is probably the best place to talk.”
“Are we going anywhere?” Mike asked.
“Up the road,” Vadim said, waving south. “You have weapons with you, yes?”
“Yeah,” Mike said, frowning. “Do I need them?”
“No longer,” Vadim said, sighing. “At least probably not. A farm was attacked by the Chechens. At least I assume it was Chechens. The farmer was seen talking in a tavern with some Chechens yesterday. Today there is a home burned, dead bodies, all the usual. It is very annoying.”
They drove up over the pass to the south, climbing c
lose to the treeline at the top, then down into a series of narrow valleys. Mike took a turn off on one of the dirt roads that led up into the mountains, grateful that he’d brought the Expedition instead of the Mercedes, and finally stopped at a clearing.
It was a small mountain farm like many in the area, a cleared vegetable patch next to a small stone house. Across the road, and a stream, was a larger area that was green with some plant. There should have been goats and maybe an ox in the paddock to the side, some children playing or working around the house.
Instead there was a smell of fire and two policemen picking up bodies and dispiritedly loading them into the back of a truck. The paddock had been broken down and the door to the house was shattered and half burned.
“There were nine who lived here,” Vadim said, shaking his head and getting out of the Expedition. “Viljar Talisheva, his wife, a brother and six children. There are four bodies. He had a teenage daughter and one that was just short of teen.”
“And those are the bodies missing?” Mike said, his face hard.
“Indeed,” Vadim said. “This is what I’m to prevent, but I’d like to know how.”
“With more people you know who is moving in the area,” Mike said. “You intercept the Chechens before they do stuff like this. Simply keeping them from moving through town will cut down on it; you can’t move through this region without moving through Alerrso. Not north and south. Do you think they moved north?”
“No, they fled back to the south,” Vadim said. “They will bribe their way past a checkpoint and be gone. I have put out the word on this, as you would say, and I am told they will be found. I doubt it. Honestly, south of the pass there are a dozen ways they can go. They might still be in the area, waiting until we are no longer looking for them. They might have passed the food they took to a mule train that will take it to Chechnya over the mountains. Maybe done the same with the girls or simply kept them for their own uses.”
“We’re going to have to patrol heavy,” Mike said, shrugging. “As soon as the militia is trained. It’s going to be a pain in the ass, but I’d rather this not happen in Alerrso or the Valley. And I’m sure the news about what’s happening in the valley is getting out. We’re going to have to keep a close eye out for movement in the area even before the militia gets formed.”
“I’d love to know how,” Vadim said, dispiritedly. One of the bodies was very young.
“I’ll see if we can get the phone system in Alerrso upgraded,” Mike said. “If anyone moves through the town, we can set up a signaling system. Maybe put out some hide positions using radio. Even without the militia, there’s a tiddly strike force in the trainers. If they strike first through the roads we’ll have warning.”
“Do what you can,” Vadim said. “I’ll stay here to clean up. It’s all I can do.”
* * *
“That’s the situation we’re dealing with,” Mike said, shaking his head. He’d called Adams and Nielson into a conference as soon as he’d gotten back. “While we’re training, we need to keep one eye on the security situation.”
“I don’t want to just put guns in the hands of the Keldara,” Adams said, frowning. “They’re smarter than I’d hoped, but I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“Agreed,” Nielson said, setting his laptop on the desktop. “But the trainers can start carrying, heavy, from now on. The work they were on is winding down as I’d planned as we get closer to the planting festival. Planting’s done, by the way; what are they waiting for?”
“It’s scheduled for a particular day in the year,” Mike said, shrugging. “It’s more of a spring festival than a strictly planting festival. But I still think we should wait until then to start training; I don’t want to interfere in their festivals and for a few weeks after there’s not much to do around the farm the women and older men can’t handle.”
“I can work with that,” the colonel said. “We can start pulling back a small strike team, five or so, in the event that something goes wrong. Keep an SUV up here for them to move in.”
“Create a ground-floor weapons room,” Mike said, nodding as the plan took shape. “There’s a small utility room by the main entry corridor. Start storing personal weapons there. I’ll get a couple of Keldara to set up weapons racks.”
“That will handle any minor attack,” Adams said. “But I’d like some recon and a warning net.”
“Some of the Keldara are hunters,” Mike said, musingly. “Give them over to a pretraining team and set them out, two-man teams, as eyeballs north and south. Nothing we can do about the tracks in the mountains right now, but we can keep an eye on the road. Get Vanner setting up the main commo shack and train them in on the radios. Scatter some radios in Alerrso. Lay in a secure line to the Keldara commo center or put it up here.”
“Up here would work better,” Nielson said, definitively. “It’s the most secure location and we can put an antenna farm up on the roof that will link through the whole area easily. We’ve got the satellite radios for longer range; only thing that will work in these mountains. I’ll set up the training teams. Probably send out a trainer with the hunters for some makee learnee. One trainer and one hunter per team for the time being.”
“Give me the names and I’ll start rounding them up,” Adams said. “And the back-up strike teams. We should rotate that.”
“I’ll get it to you by the end of the day,” Nielson said, frowning.
“I’ll get some Keldara up here and get them started on the gun-rack,” Mike said, nodding. “Anything else?”
“Not that I can think of at the moment,” Nielson said.
“I can,” Adams said. “Some of the Keldara are bound to get shot up doing this stuff. The medics are going to designate some of them for basic medical training, maybe more with some of the women. But we’re still a long damned way from the hospital. Any way that we can get a chopper for extraction?”
“Unlikely,” Mike said, shaking his head. “As far as I know the hospital in Tbilisi doesn’t even have one.” He looked at the chief’s face and frowned. “Damnit, you want me to buy them a chopper?”
“One that we have first priority on,” Adams said, nodding. “Yes. And they’ll probably need help, for the first year at least, with support and pay for the pilots. Keep in mind, you might be the guy that needs it.”
“Christ,” Mike said, shaking his head. “This is getting expensive enough it’s noticeable. Okay, okay, I’ll think about it.”
“Then that’s all,” Adams said. “I’ll get with the Keldara about the gun-rack; you don’t know diddly about building a gun rack.”
* * *
Mike was down in the weight room, pushing his way through a punishing pect workout with E Nomine cranked up on the speakers, when the door opened to reveal one of the Keldara women. She immediately shouted something he couldn’t catch over the booming industrial.
Mike stepped out of the Nautilus machine and turned off the stereo, cocking an eyebrow in query.
“There has been an incident in the village,” the woman said. “A Keldara woman has been taken by Chechens. They were seen driving down the hill this way.”
Mike thought rapidly about how long it would take them to make it out of the area as he grabbed a towel and ran up the stairs. He could hear the duty squad throwing on their gear but he didn’t bother; the vehicle would be out of the valley before they could even make it out the door fully rigged. Instead he kept climbing, running up to the second level and into his bedroom.
He’d laid in a gun room next to his room, a little security blanket in case everything went to shit. Among other weapons in the room was a Barrett. The Robar was more accurate but the M-82A1 was a better light material gun.
He grabbed the Barrett and headed for his balcony, looking down into the valley. He could see the road clearly from his position and there was a white van heading down the valley road at high speed. They must have gotten the impression they weren’t welcome or maybe they were just really
stupid drivers.
Mike moved rapidly but with care, throwing the Barrett up onto the balcony railing, sliding in a magazine, arming the weapon and then snuggling in to look through the scope.
It took him a moment to acquire the speeding van but when he did he slid forward, laying the crosshairs on the engine compartment and then leading it. In the mild spring air he could see the round crackling through the rippling air and it impacted forward of the van, gouging up a spurt of dust that was lost in the dust of the van’s passage. He pulled back a bit and the second round cracked into the side of the vehicle, uncomfortably close to the cargo compartment. The third of five rounds cracked into the driver’s area and the van swerved wildly for a moment then straightened out. Killing the driver was nowhere in his plan so he led the van, which was getting out of range, a bit more and let go with the fourth round. He couldn’t figure out where that one went but he followed it up with another and was professionally pleased to see the van’s muffler start streaming blue and the van slowing to a stop.
He dropped the Barrett, then stopped by the gun room just long enough to pick up a fully-loaded silenced M-4. He still made it out the front doors just after the last member of the duty squad.
“Over,” Mike snapped, slipping in the door of the Expedition.
“God damnit, Kildar,” Russell said. He was one of the Rangers with the group, a pure shoot trainer, a real freak of nature, too. He pumped more iron than any normal human should and looked like a walking tank. Loaded down with his weapon, body armor and spare ammo he looked even worse. “You’re not even in armor.”
“Shit happens,” Mike said. “Go!”
No one had gotten out of the van when they reached it. It was parked on the side of the road, near the southwest end of the valley. A few Keldara who had been in the fields had drifted that way but Mike waved them back as he unloaded from the Expedition and moved forward in tactical present.
