by John Ringo
Mike might or might not do a demonstration for the range day. The Keldara were only going to be firing on a twenty-five meter range for zero. The time to do that was when they did the full Basic Rifle Marksmanship class later in the training cycle. They were taking the Marine approach to that one, training them on marksmanship on the Known Distance range, then going to pop-up targets.
Marksmanship and combat engagement were two different mindsets, but the one was important to support the other. Training on pure marksmanship meant that the soldier was actually paying attention to the target. The two problems with that were he then tended to see the target as a human and not just a target and he tended to take too long in engagement. With the latter, he was paying attention to his shooting rather than the fact he was in a combat engagement. With the former he ended up more stressed by taking a human life. Training to simply engage pop-up targets and consider the shapes that the soldier engaged as nothing more than those tended to reduce both problems.
He put the training schedule away when he began to yawn and curled up next to Anastasia. He had to admit there were worse ways to fly.
* * *
"Mr. Jenkins?"
Mike had woken up the moment the cockpit door opened and now opened his eyes, to look at the copilot. He'd assumed the pilot was on his way to the rear for a drink so he hadn't bothered before, just tracked his movements by sound.
"Yeah?" Mike asked, shifting upwards. Anastasia was still out like a light so he gently lowered her down so her head rested on his thigh.
"We got an in-flight advisory that we're suppose to taxi to the military side of the Tbilisi airport and await a Follow-Me," the copilot said, quietly. "Captain Hardesty thought you should know."
"Thanks," Mike said. "I should have told you guys I was picking up a helicopter for the rest of the trip. That's all it's about."
"Okay," the copilot said, nodding. "We'd . . . wondered."
"No great adventures on this trip," Mike said, grinning. "Maybe some other time. How long?"
"We'll be beginning our descent in about a half an hour. Be on the ground in about an hour."
"I'd better wake Anastasia up," Mike said, nodding. "Thanks for the heads up."
Mike looked at the girl on his lap after the pilot had gone and decided to let her sleep a little longer. She looked worn out by the day and flying in the chopper was probably going to unnerve her a good bit.
As it turned out, the power down and dropping feeling woke her up instantly.
"Are we okay?" she asked, sitting up hurriedly and wiping her eyes.
"Fine," Mike said. "We're on descent to Tbilisi airport. There's a helicopter waiting for us there."
"Okay," the girl said, her eyes wide as the plane bumped through some turbulence.
"That's normal, too," Mike said. "Pockets of thicker or denser air cause the plane to go up and down a bit." Mike thought there must be a front in the area since the plane lurched again. "Lean over here," he said, sliding sideways and putting his arm around her. "It'll be okay."
Mike leaned over and looked out the window and was surprised to see that the air was clear. You got clear air turbulence from time to time, but rarely this severe.
"Captain?" he said, keying the intercom. "Are we following someone down?"
"Spot on, sir," the copilot answered. "We're behind an Airbus. I think we're probably too close, frankly, but nothing we can't handle. And this is where Tbilisi control wants us to be."
"Back off a bit if you can do it discreetly," Mike said. "The ride is getting a little rough.
"When a plane passes through it disturbs the air," Mike continued to Anastasia. "It settles out pretty quickly, normally, but if you're close to other aircraft it makes this happen; the plane goes up and down."
"Will it make us crash?" Anastasia asked.
"Not hardly," Mike replied. "These business jets are built very tough and very maneuverable. And Hardesty is a great pilot. This is not a problem."
"Okay," the girl said, sighing. "It's all new."
"And a bit scary," Mike said. "More than just the flight. You'll be okay, I promise."
Hardesty greased the landing and was careful on the braking, obviously keeping in mind his junior passenger. Tbilisi airport had been built to support Soviet bombers during the Cold War and it had plenty of runway for an easy brake. About halfway down the runway he took a right, instead of the normal left to the terminal, and followed a series of turns to stop not more than seventy meters from a Blackhawk with its rotor already turning.
"This is your stop, sir," the copilot said, coming into the main cabin.
"Up we get, dear," Mike said to Anastasia.
The luggage was secured in an underside compartment with a door behind the left wing. As the copilot opened the door, a Georgian lieutenant gestured for an enlisted man to help.
Between the three of them, the copilot, Mike and the Georgian soldier, it only took one trip for the bags. Mike, frankly, could have humped them all himself, but he wasn't about to get in the way of the dance. He ended up with just his briefcase and personal bag.
He led Anastasia over to the helicopter and started to strap her into one of the comfortable chairs in the center of the chopper's cargo bay, but she pointed to one of the jump seats.
"I would like to look out, if I may," she said, diffidently.
"Sit wherever you'd like," Mike said, leading her over to the seat and strapping her in. Unlike the passenger seats, the jump seat had a four-point restraint system and when hooked up it hiked her skirt all the way up to the top of her stockings. She discreetly pulled it back down on the sides, but there wasn't any way to cover up the inner thigh.
"Perhaps I should . . ." she said, waving at the regular passenger seats which had normal "airline" seatbelts.
"I like the view just fine," Mike replied, picking up a headset and putting it on her and then following with one for himself. "Pilot?" he asked in Georgian.
"Yes, Kildar," the pilot replied. "Are you ready for us to take off?"
"At your leisure," Mike replied. "Thanks for the ride."
"It is an honor, Kildar," the pilot said.
The rotors increased in speed and Mike looked out to see if they'd form a halo. Sometimes, when the dust was just right, static discharge would form on the rotors. It would slide down to the edge of them, like little lightning bolts, and the effect would look exactly like a silver halo on the ends of the rotors. Not this time, alas. Anastasia would have liked it. However, it was also a sign of increased rotor wear, so he thought he should be thankful.
"Are you okay?" he asked as the bird lifted into the air. There was an intercom control on his seat panel and he'd switched it so that he was only talking to the girl.
"Fine," Anastasia squeaked, nervously. But she leaned forward and watched as they lifted. "This is beautiful. I had thought I'd be afraid, but I am only a little. This is very interesting to watch."
The bird spiraled up to about two thousand feet above ground level and then headed southeast towards the valley of the Keldara. The moon was only a quarter, but once they got away from the city lights and their eyes adjusted, it lit up the landscape like day.
"This is so beautiful," Anastasia whispered. "There are so many trees. I'd forgotten how much I like trees. It must be very green in the day."
"It is at the moment," Mike said, looking out for himself. "The trees are just coming out in their leaves and it's greening up nicely. The tops of the mountains, though, reach above the tree line. Some of them are snow-covered year round."
"Where I came from there were many trees," the girl said, quietly. "But no mountains."
"Lots of mountains in Georgia," Mike said. He'd noticed that the helicopter was on a continuous fair climb, even after the upward spiral, but as it approached the mountains it turned south into another spiral, fighting for altitude.
"We are going very high," Anastasia said, breathing deeply in incipient panic.
"High mountains," Mike poi
nted out. "We'll be fine. These things are rated for ten thousand feet with a load of troops. This is easy flying."
As they headed into the mountains, below the peaks, the helicopter began to buffet in the crosswinds and Anastasia squeaked and closed her eyes.
"This I don't like," the girl said. "I think I am getting a little sick."
"Try opening your eyes," Mike said, rummaging around in the seats until he found an airsick bag. The package was paper with a plastic bag on the inside, which he extracted and handed across to the girl. "If you have to go, go in that."
They crossed through a saddle, with tree-covered slopes on both sides that seemed close enough the rotors should have hit the branches, then started to descend, banking through a series of turns as the helicopter followed the complex angles of the valleys. The crosswinds had settled down, though, and while the chopper was banking, it wasn't going up and down so much. With the change of motion, Anastasia seemed to get over her sickness, sitting with the bag in her hand but a rapt expression on her face as the chopper banked past the hills. At one point it practically stood on its left side, letting her get a close look at the ground below and leaving her hanging in her straps.
"This is fun," she said in surprise as the chopper leveled back out.
"That it is," Mike admitted. "I really need to get one for a dozen different reasons."
"You can buy a helicopter?" Anastasia asked.
"Well, a Blackhawk would be a little out of my range," Mike admitted. "They're damned expensive. Good birds, but overpriced. The Czechs sell a Hind variant for executive transport and medical evac that's only about six hundred grand. And there's something like ninety percent parts compatibility with regular Hind-Ds. And Hinds are all over the place. The only reason the Georgians have these Blackhawks is the U.S. government gave them five and support the parts."
As he finished, the Blackhawk banked one more time into the valley of the Keldara and Mike realized he'd forgotten to get anyone to lay out an LZ.
"Pilot," he said, switching back to the general intercom, "I forgot to tell anyone I was coming so there's no LZ laid out. You want to hang up here while I call or go in on an unmarked?"
"I'd prefer marked," the pilot admitted.
"Okay," Mike said, pulling out his sat phone. "We'll probably go in on my lawn, then."
He'd left another satellite phone with Nielson for general communications and he speed dialed that.
"Keldara House, Dinara Mahona speaking, how may I help you, sir or ma'am?" a female voice answered in Georgian.
"God I love Vanner," Mike replied, smiling. "Hi, Dinara, it's the Kildar. I'm up over the valley in a chopper. Could you wake up somebody from the duty squad that knows how to lay in an LZ and ask them to put one on the lawn?"
"Yes, Kildar," the Keldara said. "I will do that immediately."
"Thanks," Mike replied. "We'll just tool around up here until you call."
"Pilot," he said, switching back to the intercom. "There's somebody getting up to lay in an LZ, but it will be a few minutes. You've got fuel?"
"Enough for another hour, Kildar," the pilot replied. "More than enough for twenty minutes or so up here and then flying back."
"Take a turn around the valley, then," Mike said. "I'll show the lady the sights."
Using the chopper, Mike pointed out the houses of the Keldara, who were probably wondering what the hell was going on, the new roads that were being laid in, the ranges, where the dam was under construction and Alerrso. Finally, the sat phone rang.
"Kildar, this is Killjoy," the former Marine said. "We've got chemlights laid out on the lawn. Best I could do at the moment. One blinking strobe at the end. Wind is more or less from the north, recommend come in from the south and set down at the lower end of the lawn. That will give him plenty of room to pull out over the house."
"Will do," Mike said, passing the orders on to the pilot.
* * *
"Hey, Killjoy," Mike said as he pulled back the doors to the chopper. "How they hangin'?"
"Still one lower than the other," Killjoy replied, his eyes widening at the sight of Anastasia. "What, you didn't have enough women in the house?"
"She's a manager," Mike replied. "Give me a hand with her bags?"
He shook the hand of the pilot and co, then helped Anastasia across the lawn. She was wearing four-inch spike heels and they sank in the cut grass. Finally, he just picked her up and carried her to the paved walkway.
"Welcome to Keldara House," Mike said as he set her down. They were by the door to the harem garden, which was standing open, so he led her in that way. "This is sort of the side door. Sorry."
"It is very beautiful," she said, looking around in the moonlight. Hard work on the part of the Keldara had cleaned up the garden so it was presentable again. The fruit trees and roses had been trimmed and the trees were in bloom, filling the garden with a heady scent.
"It is nice," Mike said. "It's the harem garden, technically. But since I don't lock the girls in anyone can come in here. Nice place to have a party."
"It would be," Anastasia admitted.
"Oh, introductions," Mike said. "Anastasia Rakovich, Corporal Lawrence Killjoy. Call him Larry."
"Pleased to meet you, ma'am," Killjoy said, setting her bags down and shaking her hand.
"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Killjoy," Anastasia said, formally.
"You don't generally get introduced, do you?" Mike asked.
"No," Anastasia admitted as they headed for the house.
"Would you prefer that I not?" Mike asked. "It's considered impolite in my culture. But so is having a harem."
"No, I would prefer to be introduced to people," Anastasia admitted. "If you're not, it makes you feel like a piece of mobile furniture. I want to meet people."
"Plenty of people to meet in the house at the moment," Mike replied. "The seven girls we picked up, the four I'm renting, about twenty trainers, the cook, the housekeeper and the girls that help out. Then there's all the Keldara, the people in Alerrso like Vadim, who's the local cop. You're going to be meeting a lot of people."
"That will be . . . different," Anastasia said, nervously. "But, I think, nice."
"Tomorrow, though," Mike said, yawning. "Tonight I'm for bed. Killjoy, any idea if anything's been done to set up for her?"
"Not as far as I know," the corporal replied.
"In that case, we'll just take her stuff up to my room," Mike said. "She can sleep with me."
"Bastard," Killjoy muttered.
"For the time being, Anastasia is taken," Mike said, definitely. "Pass the word. Later she can make up her own mind, but she's going to have to get used to the idea."
"Will do, sir," the corporal replied.
Chapter Nineteen
"Shower and bath through there," Mike said, pointing to the adjoining master bath. "If you don't mind, I'll take one in the morning after I work out."
"I do not mind," Anastasia said. "Would you mind if I took a shower?"
"Go for it," Mike replied.
He usually slept in the nude during warmer months but for her sake he put on a pair of running shorts and crawled into bed.
He had fallen asleep to the sound of the shower but woke up when she climbed in next to him. He reached over to tell her he was there and his hand hit a naked abdomen. Immediately, he was massively horny.
The shorts came off as he slid across the bed and one arm went behind her as the other lifted to her firm breast. He slid his tongue down the side of her neck, causing a moan of either real or expertly feigned pleasure, but when his hand crept down between her legs she was wet.
He'd been married and been with hookers, but this was something different. Having a woman around who was just there for the screwing, no questions, no headaches, no negotiations, was amazingly exciting. Despite that, he took his time. Aware of her professed preferences he pinned her arms over her head and added nips and bites to the licking, the whole time manipulating her clitoris. Her labia had spread o
f its own will, another sign that he was on the right track, and her body was quickly covered in goose bumps. He ended up nipping and sucking at her nipples, his finger moving in a medium fast motion that seemed to be her preference, and then, almost without warning, she came with a hissing shriek and a whole body clench.