by John Ringo
"You get asked," Captain Wilson said, chuckling. "And you have to be very very good at what you do." She paused and then grinned. "My that sounded arrogant."
"Ladies, you plucked me out of some trees and dropped me out of a SABO with the smoothest skill in a helo I've ever seen," Guerrin replied. "And now you tell me you've only got a couple of days in the bird. I'm not going to knock your 'arrogance'."
"Why captain, I do believe that was a compliment," Captain Bathlick said. "Kacey," she added, holding out her hand.
"J.P.," Guerrin replied. "It stands for Jean-Paul. Long story."
"Star Trek fans?" Kacey asked, then shook her head. "Nah, not young enough."
"Tamara," Tammie added. "It's a short story. I'm named after a space hooker."
"Excuse me," J.P. said, blinking.
"Love it," Tammie said, laughing at his expression. "It's a character in a book..."
"Tamara Sperling?" J.P. asked. "Tamara Sperling was not a 'space hooker.' She was a hetaera. More like one of the Companions in Firefly. Very high status."
"My God," Kacey said. "The man reads Heinlein and knows about Firefly. There may be hope for the Rangers after all."
"I know," Tammie said, more or less simultaneously. "But I like 'space hooker' better."
"TOC's towards the end," Kacey said, continuing down the hall. "I'm not sure if you're permitted in intel or not so we'll just go there."
The door was steel again, undisguised this time. Not as heavy as the vault doors to get into the basement area but still solid. Take a good breaching charge to take it out. Inside there was a young woman in digi-cam at a computer station with Colonel Nielson leaning over her shoulder. There were several more stations set up, most powered down, and a conference table on the left with a large map of the area on the wall behind it. Another wall had six big plasma screens, three of them set to world news the other three set to remotes somewhere in the mountains.
The major difference from any TOC Guerrin had ever seen was besides the usual coffee station there was a tea samovar and an espresso machine. Other than that, and the fact that every bit of equipment was state of the art, it could have been an American TOC anywhere in the world.
"Captains," Nielson said, turning and nodding then turning back to point to something on the computer. He said something in a foreign language Guerrin didn't get.
"Da," the girl said, clicking the mouse. "Uploading." The latter was English.
"Welcome to Chaos Central," Nielson said, straightening up. "Captain Bathlick, we've got your LZs. Which to use depended on weather. There's some really heavy weather coming in. I'm not sure we can make the drop early this evening. It might be late tonight. And the winds may still be high."
"We'd better go get some crew-rest, then," Kacey said. "Brief later?"
"That works," Nielson said. "Brief at 2000 and lift-off based on weather?"
"Should work," Kacey replied. "One helo?"
"You should have lift for it," the colonel replied. "You're bringing in the body armor on this one, though. It will probably require three sorties. Touch and go. Just dump the shit out the door and keep moving. Don't stop. You're getting into the edge of Injun country on this one. The Keldara will be securing the LZ but that doesn't mean it will be fully secure."
"Okay, in that case I'm definitely gonna get some rest," Tammie said. "Night ops in a new bird in the mountains doing a drive-by. Sleep is a good thing. Captain Guerrin, catch up with you later."
"Okay," Guerrin said. "Later."
"Nice girls," Nielson said after they'd left. "Marines. They got involved in a hairy mission and the Marine brass freaked and yanked all their females out of any potential combat missions. So they went looking for work."
"The guy who plucked me out of the trees said he'd been a PJ," Guerrin noted.
"D'Allaird, the crew-chief," Nielson said. "He was a PJ once upon a time. Burned in on a jump and got too banged up. He transitioned to flight engineer in the Air Force and then, for some reason, jumped to the Marines in rank. Spent the rest of his career as a Marine avionics guy."
"Well, he seemed to know his shit," Guerrin said.
"While there are some that are learning the trade," Nielson said, looking fondly at the young lady at the computer, "we only hire people who 'know their shit.' There's a fairly tight job market for such people at the moment, admittedly. But there are perks to this job that working in the sandbox doesn't afford. Among other things, Georgia is just a prettier country than Iraq or Afghanistan. And you haven't had a chance to sample the beer, yet, but you're in for a treat."
"Sounds good," Guerrin, wondering, again, how one got a job working for the "Kildar." "What's up?"
"I thought we'd go over the local area and where you might want to operate in a bit more detail," Nielson said. "And I thought you should get oriented to where the TOC resided. I don't know if you're planning on going out with your patrols or controlling from here. We can maintain commo pretty solidly. Our top commo guy is, unfortunately, 'out of town' but we've got a distributed network for the area that we can hook your teams into. For backup I'd say sat phones for each of your platoon leaders. We have plenty available. And I take it you brought your own commo."
"Yes, sir," Guerrin replied. "I'm planning on leaving Third Platoon in place and deploying First and Second. I'll centralize our heavy unit where they can move to support either team. And, yes, I'll probably stay here until there's contact. I'd like to move forward if we get in contact or if we have to support the retreat of the Keldara."
"That may depend on assets," Nielson said. "We've only the two choppers and two pilots. They are probably going to be in support of the Keldara. On the other hand, I could see them capable of dropping you on or near your units on the way by. We'll have to take that one on the fly. There's a road, vehicle capable, that runs to quite close to where I anticipate the Kildar retreating. Again, that part is going to depend upon enemy reaction. I would suggest, however, that you bring in your platoon leaders and such and brief them in sometime this evening."
"Yes, sir," Guerrin said. "1700?"
"Fine," the colonel replied. "Then we can repair to the bar to really discuss the mission."
* * *
"Gentlemen, welcome once again to the valley of the Keldara," Nielson said.
The Ranger officers and NCOs had been brought down to the headquarters room for their briefing and were looking around in interest.
"Sir, if I may," First Sergeant Kwan said, "when they said we were going to be aggressing against some Georgian mountain infantry, this wasn't exactly what I expected."
"The commander is an American," Nielson said. "What he was prior to ending up here you don't have the need to know. Frankly, I don't know the whole story. But when he moved here, he decided that he needed a militia. The Chechens had been using this area as their personal fiefdom and he chose to change that. Since he knew what good equipment, and training, could do for a militia, especially if they had the basic instinct to make good soldiers, he didn't stint on spending. As it turns out, the Keldara very much do have that special trait, in spades. Any of you gentlemen history majors?"
"Here, sir," First Lt. Mund, the third platoon leader replied.
"The Keldara are a remnant of the Varangian Guard, Lieutenant," Nielson said with a grin. "Ring a bell?"
"Viking bodyguards of the Byzantine Emperors?" Mund said with a furrowed brow. "What are they doing up here?"
"Long story," Nielson said. "For the rest of you gentlemen, understand that the Keldara are mountain fighters from way back. And they've kept the tradition even while being farmers. They are...fierce. Like the Ghurkas or the Kurds they are warriors first and farmers a distant second. Not that they're bad farmers. However, you're likely to not deal with them at all. What you are doing is covering their back and acting as if you're fighting them. Captain Guerrin?"
"This is the Guerrmo Pass," Guerrin said, pointing to the map on the wall. "While Third Platoon stays in place with the Kel
dara, First and Second will move to this region and perform patrolling, carefully staying on this side of the pass. The other side is serious Injun country.
"As previously mentioned, they should take both blank and live ammo. From time to time they can act as if they have raided or ambushed someone using blanks. However, they should only load blanks, fire, then reload with live ammo. For that reason, don't actually have anyone in the kill-zone. Just play act. We're supposedly aggressing against the Keldara. The impression is that we're an American unit which has taken a hostile town while the muj types ran to the hills. We're trying to comb them out. The reality is that the Chechens still, occasionally, try to penetrate the area. So keep your units hot at all times unless you're performing one of the deception missions. I'll give you each written op orders detailing your area of patrol. Third."
"Here," Lt. Pope replied.
"The Keldara women handle fixed defenses," J.P. said. "So your guys are going to have to interact with them. Rules on that are no male is to be present with less than two women at any time. Preferably work in groups at all times. But part of the defenses are bunkers and there are only so many who can fit in them. Make sure there's no hanky-panky and brief your men that if there are any complaints, they are automatically considered to be in error if there was any way there could be a complaint. Understood?"
"Yes, sir," Pope said.
"Full op order," J.P. said, tossing sealed manila envelopes on the table. "In those is a sealed envelope containing secondary missions and communications details. If you're told to open them, do so. In the event that you are in a position to be captured or killed, ensure the destruction of the contents. In the event that the carrier goes down, brief your personnel that destruction is paramount, even over survival. Clear?"
"Yes, sir," the group chorused.
"Yes, we're here as a deception mission," Guerrin said. "But in the event that the deception fails we have a secondary mission. You get briefed on that only if it goes off. For now, just go play in the hills. The weather should be great for it."
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The weather was preparing to suck.
The mountains were really steepening up. They'd gotten out of anything that couldn't be called "low" at this point and were well into the "high-up."
Between that and the decreased O2, Mike had slowed the pace. They weren't quite going at "mountain speed" yet, but close.
It was coming on towards dawn and what he hadn't seen, yet, was a good hide point. Hiding twenty people, above the woodline, was a chore. But they were going to have to go to ground. Soon. Like vampires, they couldn't be out in the light.
They were moving up a narrow defile with an ice and boulder-choked stream running down the middle. He could just have them disperse to the sides of the canyon in their bivvies, but he didn't like the looks of the weather. He also hadn't been able to check his BFT gear recently. There was a storm coming in, but it wasn't supposed to hit until late in the day. The way the clouds were building, it was going to be sooner. Given the storm, they might have to hunker down well into the night. The supply drop was going to be problematic.
They also hadn't changed into their really heavy alpine gear, yet. The weather was still a bit too warm. The heavy alpine gear was for temperatures near or below zero Fahrenheit. Currently it was just a tad above freezing and the standard fleece jackets were plenty. Probably too much, he was sweating a bit.
But the temperature usually climbed just a bit before a big storm. It would drop as it hit and drop more as it passed. Changing gear was going to be a pain in the ass, but necessary.
Finding a good hide site was even more necessary.
The stream had petered out and they were really scrambling, now. The slope was about sixty degrees, not quite vertical but close. Easier to negotiate on all fours, even with the ruck on his back. The line of Keldara struggled up the slope to just below the crest while the lead poked his head up. After a moment the lead turned and looked at Mike, pointing to his eyes.
Mike scrambled the rest of the way up the slope and cautiously poked his head up, turning it to the side to reduce the silhouette. Then he looked at the lead, Mikhail Ferani, and nodded, smiling.
Down below was a large cluster of boulders, probably dropped by the glacier they were headed for in its retreat. The teams could snuggle into the area, about an acre in size, easily.
The point had already made it up the next ridgeline but the trail was looking back and as Mike looked at him he pointed to the boulders. Mike gave a thumb's up then turned to the lead and pointed at the boulders.
Their day-hide was in sight.
* * *
There wasn't a fucking place to hide.
Adams didn't want to push the movement much more. They were running along the side of a ridge, getting pretty close to the snow-line and not having a great time of it. The damned trails were slick with ice in places.
And there wasn't a fucking place to hide. Mountains reared in every direction and he felt like an ant on a floor. Anybody could fucking see them as soon as the sun came up and it was already starting to get light.
The only choice was going to be to hunker down in their bivvies with netting over them and hope like hell nobody noticed them. It wasn't good tactics at all.
The point had already crested the ridge and getting him back was going to be a pain in the ass. And the weather was closing in; the upper summits had already disappeared in clouds. It was about to either rain or snow, or maybe both, like a bitch.
Which would at least reduce visibility.
Finally he called a halt and signaled for the lead to go up and pull in the point. The damned sun was just about up and it was time to try to hide in plain sight.
He gestured for the team to spread out and then opened up his rucksack, pulling out his sleeping bag which was already encased by a bivvy sack. Short for "bivouac" the bivvy sack was a waterproof covering that could have a slight stiffener emplaced to keep it off the face. Adams hated the damned stiffeners so he always left his behind.
He rolled the bivvy out and secured it to the thin soil of the hillside then yanked out a ghillie net and covered the sack. Last he slid his rucksack under the net and climbed into the sack.
Dafyd Shaynav, the assistant team leader, had followed his lead but now paused and made the gesture for "sentry."
Adams shook his head and gestured to get in the sack and freeze. Then he pointed to the sky.
Dafyd nodded then laid out his gear as the Master Chief had. But instead of immediately getting in the sack he began circulating, making sure everyone else was secure and camouflaged. That was his job.
Adams zipped the bivvy up, slid his hand out to pull up the net, then closed the bag all the way. He'd get out and look around in a minute, right now he wanted to check the weather.
He slid out of his jacket, got his weapon to one side and then pulled out the BFT.
The Marconi V-9 Blue Force Tracker was a bleeding edge system for keeping up with battle-space. Capable of multiple tasks related to intelligence dissemination, conditions and unit tracking, not to mention keeping up with your own location and various possible add-on programs, it was Mike's equivalent of a battle PDA and not much larger than one. It was set to receive only but he could do a weather check.
Sure enough, the storm was moving faster than predicted. The satellite view showed it already raining at their location. This was so gonna suck.
When the sound of the Keldara getting into position died away he stuck his head out of the bag and looked around. It wasn't full light, yet, so he slid out and walked up the hill.
It wasn't as bad as he'd feared. Since he knew what he was looking for he could tell where the bivvies were. But the netting really did break up the outline. They didn't look like much of anything. From the mountainsides around them they were probably invisible. And even close up they were going to be hard to spot.
