by John Ringo
"Well, I don't have a book and wouldn't read it to you if I did," Katya said. "Nor do I have a music player. So I guess you're stuck."
"Okay, you can't know my name, but what's yours?" Marina asked.
"Katya," the agent replied after a moment.
"Hello, Katya, I'm the girl in the mask," Marina said. "I know you're a . . ."
"Whore, prostitute, hooker, streetwalker, take your pick," Katya finished for her.
"Hetaera," Marina said.
"A what?" Katya said, laughing. "Never mind, I've heard the term. And I am anything but a hetaera. I am a whore."
"Fine, be a whore if you wish," Marina said, sighing. "Why?"
"Well, unlike some people, I don't have a rich father to keep me," Katya said.
"Hah!" Marina snorted. "Rich. The Russian government pays as if it was still 1980 and true communism was just around the corner. Our rent was paid by the institute but much of the time we couldn't afford food. I had a vegetable garden in the summer; that was much of what we ate. Rich. Katya, will you keep a secret?"
"If possible," Katya said. "I'm not going to withstand torture to get it. And I can't guarantee that we're not being . . . bugged or something."
"Oh, I don't care what those men know or think," Marina said. "They're pigs. But I have been a whore. I have taken money to . . . do it."
"If you use a term like 'do it,' you have never been a whore."
"It was when I was at college," Marina continued. "Sometimes I would go to the bars and pick up men, Americans or Europeans of course, and ply them for money. I was using my body, screwed men, for money. That is being a whore, yes?"
"No," Katya said. "That's like saying that one of these Chechen pigs is a soldier. A whore is someone who is beaten twice a day by her pimp. Who is beaten until she pees blood but goes out to make his money anyway. A whore licks out toilet bowls because it is the choice of that or die. A whore has no choice. None. At best you were a prostitute."
"You have a point," Marina replied. "I guess being a whore is sort of a badge of honor for you."
"I hadn't thought of that, but, yes," Katya said. "It is what I am. If you do something for long you had better become proud of it or find a way, any way, to change."
"Katya," Marina said.
"Yes?"
"Don't take this wrong," Marina continued. "But I think you are probably a very good whore."
"The best you'll ever meet," Katya said. "And because we are such good friends you can call me Cottontail."
"That is a very strange name," Marina said nervously.
"I am a very strange person."
Chapter Twenty-Four
"Hey, Chief," Kacey said, stepping out of the Expedition. It was being driven by one of the older Keldara and she wondered how he felt about that. The Keldara women seemed more independent than some of the Third World types she'd been around but they were definitely second-class citizens. He had to be a bit put out chauffeuring a woman. But if he had an issue with it it wasn't apparent. On the other hand, the Keldara were pretty stone-faced. They'd make great poker players.
"Hey, boss," D'Allaird said, closing a hatch on the Hind.
"Everything good?" Kacey asked.
"Yeah, just looking at one of their junctions," Tim replied, grinning. "God damn those Czechs are some fine ass engineers. Call this a Hind if you want, but it's practically an entirely different bird. All the connections are better, all the systems are more robust and they're way better quality manufacture than anything I've seen out of the Russians. And they did all that without actually changing anything. Most of their parts can be switched out for standard without a hitch. The Czech ones are just better designed and made. Cool-ass shit."
"Glad you like it," Kacey said. "How are the Czechs working out?"
"Well, saying they speak English is a stretch," D'Allaird said. "But engineers all speak the same language, if you know what I mean."
"Good," Kacey said. "But, we've got another personnel problem."
"No crew," D'Allaird said. "No problem, I can toss supplies."
"I don't want you tossing supplies," Kacey said. "I want you back here making sure the backup bird is golden. And I want you ready to take care of anything wrong with this one when we land. We need a body. Two, really. Cause we're going to be unassing these supplies as fast as possible and I'd like to get people trained in so we can operate both birds."
"Uh, there's a personnel shortage, ma'am," Tim pointed out. "Most of the younger males are up in the hills, you know. I suppose some of the older guys, like your driver, could . . ."
"I was thinking something different."
"That's an interesting suggestion," Nielson said, rubbing his eyes. "I wish the Kildar was here to pitch it, though. I don't have a problem with responsibility, mind you. It's just the Kildar can say 'This is how it shall be done' and the Keldara, in general, just do it. He's the Kildar. That's big mojo. I don't have the same mojo."
"We need the bodies," Kacey said, ticking off the items she'd thought of on her fingers. "We're probably going to need them in the future. The older males all have day-to-day responsibilities, especially with the young men gone. That's not going to change. And there's nothing they can't do in the field. The U.S. military has, sorry, proven that over and over again. It's not field combat."
"Let's go talk to Father Kulcyanov," Nielson said with a sigh.
"Father Kulcyanov, thank you for meeting with us," Nielson said, nodding to the elder. He realized he was going to have to translate since Father Kulcyanov had damned little English and Kacey even less Georgian.
"You are the castellaine of the Kildar," Father Kulcyanov said, nodding. "In his absence, you are his Voice. I should have met you at the caravanserai. I am at your command in the absence of the Kildar. You honor me by your visit. I drink to you." He took a sip of beer and then lowered the mug. "May the Father of All give us wisdom in this council."
"The Father of All," Nielson said, taking a sip. "He just blessed this 'council' to the Father of All. I'll have to give you more background on the Keldara. They play Christian only when it suits them; they're actually pagans."
"I'm afraid I can't drink," Kacey said, uncomfortably. "Not before flying. But I, too, honor this . . . council by the . . . Father of All."
Nielson translated and then added with a wry grin: "And Captain Bathlick does not drink alcohol anyway."
"I shall call for water," Father Kulcyanov said, nodding and calling for it. "I did not know of your customs. My apologies."
"He said he didn't know your customs and apologizes," Nielson said. "He's getting you water."
"It is not meant to dishonor you in any way," Kacey replied, uncomfortably. "I just don't drink anymore. Also, it is very unwise to drink anything within twelve hours of flying. It requires very precise reactions. My co-pilot is a drinker but even she does not before flying."
"She no longer drinks alcohol and is prohibited from doing so before flying, anyway," Nielson translated. "Her co-pilot drinks but not before flying. And it is that which we must talk about. The pilots are taking up a supply run to the Keldara. They need someone to load and unload the helicopters."
"I shall tell . . ." Father Kulcyanov paused and sighed. "I am so used to having Oleg to do such tasks. But he is with the Kildar. We will arrange."
"He's tapped out for guys," Nielson said. "You wanna do your pitch. I'll translate it as you go."
"Sir, if I may," Kacey said as a young woman came up and set down a mug of spring water by her arm. "Thank you. Sir, if I could ask for something. We are going to need these crew on a regular basis. They don't just load and unload the aircraft. With training they take care of minor maintenance, respond to in-flight emergencies and man the door guns. They are soldiers, sir. However, there is nothing that requires great strength. In the U.S. military many of the aircrews are . . . women."
Nielson translated and then waited.
Father Kulcyanov looked at her for a moment and then gave a broad g
rin. And spoke at length.
"Let me see if I can do this verbatim," Nielson said, shaking his head. "I didn't even know he'd been in Stalingrad. Here goes:
"And you wish to use some of the Keldara women for this was how he started. I am one of only two of the elders who fought in the Great War in the army of the bastard Stalin. He was a godless communist and calling him a pig insults pigs, but he had some things to teach even one such as I. When I saw that women were in the army, even carrying weapons, I was shocked. I was a young man, and very easily shocked. But more than once, especially in Stalingrad, I saw the women fight with as much courage, and ability, as any of my fellow soldiers. Better. You, I think, maybe could have fought with those women, Captain.
"The other elders, none of them, even Devlich who also fought in the War, fought with women beside them. They are having a hard time seeing women as anything more than makers of babies and beer: women are for tending to the fires and warming a bed. But I have seen them fight. And I am no longer shockable. You shall have your girl, Captain Bathlick."
When Nielson finished translating, the young woman who had served the water said something to the elder and Father Kulcyanov answered with a shake of his head.
"Serena, I agree with Father Kulcyanov," Nielson interjected. "You're still sixteen. Give it a year or two at least. Seventeen or eighteen minimum. But preferably unmarried, which makes it tough. Not because of the danger, but because if the unit deploys they may deploy with it."
The young woman seemed to translate that from Kacey's perspective and then, with a very visible sign of screwing up her courage, said some names. Father Kulcyanov grunted and answered tersely without looking at her, at which the young woman ducked her head and went back in the back of the house.
"She suggested some of the girls and Father Kulcyanov pointed out that he didn't need an unbroached child to tell him who was who in the Keldara," Nielson said in a low voice. "And he said it that way, which I've never heard an elder say to an unmarried, or, hell, a married female before."
"Women's lib only goes so far, huh?" Kacey said.
"More like a very junior enlisted making suggestions to a general," Nielson replied. "Effectively he was just saying: 'Teach me to suck eggs, girl.' And the way that he said it was telling. He used the sort of language he'd have used with one of the militiamen. The girl doesn't realize it, but she just got a backhanded compliment in that insult. He's already put her in the category of warrior in his mind, even if he doesn't realize it. And Father Kulcyanov's opinion on that score is the only opinion that matters to the Keldara."
Father Kulcyanov asked something and Nielson answered in the affirmative. Then the old man spoke at length and to Kacey's ear somewhat ruefully.
"I'm trying not to smile," Nielson said. "And don't you. What he said was that when he thought of who would make good women for this position it was the same list Serena had suggested. But two of them are already on mortar teams and he doesn't want to lose their experience. So . . ."
"Gretchen," Father Kulcyanov spat.
Nielson looked at the old man and said something. The old man shrugged and said something back, looking at the colonel as an old sergeant might look at a new recruit. Oh, one with promise, but . . .
"And you have your crew-chief," Nielson said, frowning. "Gretchen's English is pretty good. Probably why he picked her. I hope that's why he picked her."
"What was that thing at the end?" Kacey asked. She'd heard the word "Kildar" in there and Nielson, at least, was clearly uncomfortable about her new crew-chief.
"Nothing that will interfere with your mission," Nielson said with a sigh. "Mine . . . possibly. But you have a crew-chief."
"Well, one thing I just realized," Kacey said. "I need to start learning Georgian, fast."
"Keldara," Nielson corrected. "It's as different from Georgian as Russian. But you'll learn. We all did."
Tim looked up and shook his head as Kacey got out of the Expedition followed by a girl in local dress.
"The good news is that she's a medium, so flight suits are covered," Kacey said. "Chief Warrant Officer Tim D'Allaird, Gretchen Mahona. Gretchen, this is Chief D'Allaird. He goes by Chief or Gunny."
"Never could get over getting shafted into taking a warrant," D'Allaird said, shaking the girl's hand. He also was studiously trying to ignore her looks. "Do you speak English?"
"I speak fairly well," Gretchen said. "I am basic-trained in weapons, including machine guns. I can fire, strip and fix basic jam. Am strong. Work farm."
"That's a start," D'Allaird said with a sigh. "Boss, we're about to start loading. Can you scrounge the flight suits while I get started? While you were negotiating for crewmen I was finding some backs."
"Okay," Kacey said. "We'll be back."
For the time being all they had in the way of a ready room was a small shack but there was a crate of flight suits in it so that was the way she headed. The girl could change in there. It would be cold but she figured she could handle that.
"Captain, is a question okay?" Gretchen said as she opened the shed.
"The only dumb question is the one you don't ask," Kacey said. "That means if you have a question and we're not in the middle of something hot, ask it. Always."
"Yes, ma'am," Gretchen said. "Am I having rank?"
"You know, I didn't ask," Kacey admitted. "But, yeah, for now you're a buck private. We'll get the rest worked out later."
"Good," Gretchen said. "Thank you."
"Rank means a lot to you?" Kacey asked as she opened the shed.
"It means are soldier, warrior," Gretchen said. "If we die in combat, the Valkyr come for us. Are not condemn to Cold Land. Valkyr rarely come for women of Keldara."
"Interesting," Kacey said. "You're Asatru. Cool."
"I am not hear that name before," Gretchen replied. "And we do not talk much of our Mysteries."
"I heard you're like Norse or something," the pilot said. "I've got a couple of friends who worship those gods. The group's called Asatru in the States. About all I know about it. Can I ask a question?"
"Of course," Gretchen said. "You are commander."
"When you got picked by Father . . . Kulcyanov?"
"Yes, is Father of Kulcyanov family," the girl said.
"Nielson said something about the Kildar?" Kacey said. To her surprise, the girl blushed.
"Is nothing," Gretchen said.
"Is something," Captain Bathlick replied. "What is it? Specifically, is it going to affect the mission?"
"No," Gretchen replied, then paused. "Is problem with Ritual of Kardane. Kildar is . . . I am . . . Is hard to explain. Kildar . . . has feelings for me."
"The Kildar's got his eye on you?" Kacey asked. "Hasn't he got enough women?"
"Has many," Gretchen replied dryly. "There is ritual opening of Keldara women. Kildar has done this many times. Is Keldara ritual; Kildar has never been . . . happy with it. He has, however, participated in several such rituals. Called Rite of Kardane. I was last to be broached. He . . . He and I, though, developed . . . strong feelings for each other. Is under discussion if I should become Kildaran, the . . . wife of Kildar instead of my current intended. Will not be, Kildar will not interfere, but . . ."
"Oh," Kacey said in a small voice, her eyes wide. Shit, she's potentially the boss's wife! "I so have to learn not to ask questions. Case of suits in the corner. Grab a spare helmet. We'll fit those later. Somehow I'm sure you can figure out the zipper."
"I'm still not quite natural with this bird," Kacey said, banking the Hind down the narrow valley. "How's our clearance?"
"Good," Tammy said, watching the LIDAR. Technically, with the design of the Czech Hind, the pilot could do it all. And Kacey was risking glances at the instruments. But with her current comfort level it made more sense for Tammy to act as, effectively, a navigator while Kacey concentrated on not plowing the bird into the ground. "I think this is as low as we should go for now, but you're good. LZ is marked in about another klick up the va
lley. There's a ridge in the way you're going to have to negotiate."
"See it," Kacey said. The problem with the night vision goggles, though, was that they had virtually no depth perception. "Distance?"
"Six hundred meters, three hundred, start climb."
"I'm good," Kacey said, increasing power and touching the collective upwards. The helicopter lurched, not the smooth lift she was trying for but she was missing the ground and that was the important thing. She crested the ridge much higher than she would have liked but she could dial in her technique when she knew the bird a little better.