Unto The Breach-ARC

by John Ringo

  "You just used up more time explaining that than I would have getting myself a Coke," Tammie pointed out as Martya reappeared, accompanied by an older woman, bearing a couple of trays.

  "Yes, but it is part of your briefing," Anastasia replied. "I hope you enjoy tea. Since we were taking this time to be acquainted I asked Mother Griffina to prepare tea."

  "Tea" turned out to be in the English manner, which mean a hearty snack as well as the drink. There were croissants, scones and various other baked delicacies to accompany. The total covered the table.

  "Pour, Martya," Anastasia said, sitting back in her chair.

  "Miss Bathlick? Cream or sugar?" Martya said, carefully but clearly.

  "Sugar," Kacey said, blinking. She'd been practically dragged to the airport, cleared customs without a visa, thrown into a Blackhawk piloted by a local and now she was having an English tea in an Ottoman caravanserai, complete with harem. It was a bit much to take. "Two lumps."

  Martya picked up the lumps with a pair of silver tongs, placed them in the cup then poured tea in, placed a small spoon on the saucer and handed the whole collection to Kacey. The movements had been as smooth as a dance, clearly practiced.

  "Miss Wilson? Cream or sugar?"

  "Sugar," Tammie answered, smiling. "Two lumps." She paused and then glanced at Kacey before blurting. "And cream!"

  Kacey tried not to chuckle. Tammie was the health nut of the two of them, at least in certain ways. Kacey didn't drink and Tammie did which was one divergence. The other was that it was Tammie who had the big sweet tooth, not to mention things like cream in her coffee and tea. At least in part to make up for it, Tammie was always pushing vitamins and, otherwise, healthy eating.

  "Miss Rakovich? Cream or sugar?"

  "Both, please," Anastasia said. It was clear that Martya knew her preferences, she'd already been reaching for the tongs, but just as clear that you weren't permitted to assume in this particular dance. Kacey suspected that at a later time, Anastasia was going to grade Martya on her performance.

  Kacey realized as she watched that Anastasia never wasted a chance. Martya, who was "intelligent and quick at her studies" was being given an opportunity to hear English being used in casual dialogue and practice her social skills. And she and Tammie were being presented by a remarkably calm and well balanced teenager who was, nonetheless, a member of a fucking harem. Two birds, maybe more, with one stone. Talk about a fucking pro.

  Then she really thought about it. Adams was the classic SEAL master chief, a total pro at "killing people and breaking things." They didn't have to "ooh-rah!" about their time in service; they just had to say "I'm a SEAL Master Chief." Pro. The men she'd seen in uniform weren't swaggering around with their guns. They were clearly on some mission with a purpose. They might not be pros, yet, but they were going there with a purpose. And "Jenkins", if that was his real name, well he was a guy who had walked onto an island with over thirty armed terrorists holding it, walked off it having killed every one and survived the resulting nuclear blast. Pro.

  She suddenly let out a mental breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She was dealing with professionals. Experts. Since she'd gotten out of the military, and most of the time in the Marines, she'd had so little opportunity to deal with really expert professionals she hadn't realized how much she'd missed it. And this harum-scarum hiring procedure had scared something deep in her soul, because it didn't seem professional. But the whole movement had been greased. She and Tammie had moved from one prepared position to the other. She wasn't even sure what the visa entry requirements were for Georgia; there had been a polite man at the airport who had whisked them past customs and into a car, driven by a polite and professional English-speaking driver that had the look of "distinguished persons protection" all over him. That driver had brought them to the bird which was flown by guys who, while not at her and Tammie's level, were good, competent, bird drivers.

  It also said something about their being hired. If that was the caliber of people that "Jenkins", the "Kildar", surrounded himself with, then he obviously considered them in the same league. That was actually a bit daunting, but she wouldn't be a pilot if she really was challenged by it. She knew she was a fucking pro. And so was Tammie. It would be nice to work with competent people again.

  The dieing part would suck, admittedly, but she'd just have to make sure she didn't.

  "Now that we are settled," Anastasia said, "I will tell you a bedtime story, yes? It is the story of how the Kildar came to be the Kildar."

  "I'd assumed he was knighted or something," Tammie said, smiling at the small joke.

  "No, he simply bought the farm," Anastasia said, smiling in turn. "The idiom has been explained to me, yes? It is a euphemism for dieing. What happened was that he got lost. Very simple, no? And he found the Valley of the Keldara. He was looking at possibly being caught here all winter; the snows are very bad and the roads...not so good. So he inquired about some place to stay. There were no rooms for let so it was suggested that he consider buying the farm of the Keldara. That was a large item, but he did so. I have never asked him why, but he bought the farm."

  "Which is?" Tammie asked. "I mean, how big is the farm?"

  "The entire valley," Anastasia answered, taking a sip of tea. "It is a very large farm."

  "I can actually guess where he got the money," Kacey said, sarcastically. "It turns out we've met before. When he set off a nuke in the Caribbean."

  "I have heard something of this," Anastasia said. "He is...quite extensively scarred. He does not flaunt them, you understand. But I sometimes ask 'Where is this from?' Sometimes he will tell me something. 'That is from my Caribbean vacation. Fortunately the hair grew back.' I later pick up that he was shot and a nuclear weapon was detonated. Others...he does not answer. Or he says 'Here and there.' Yes, he has made his money from 'killing people and breaking things.' Sometimes he finds someone that needs killing, something that needs breaking, and then he informs the appropriate government that their problem has been erased. And they pay him money for solving their problems. Sometimes governments tell him about a problem. And when he solves it for them, they pay him money. They do not tell him, 'There is a man named Boris. He lives on such and such a street.' Unless this Boris is such a bad man that he is worth millions of dollars and he is somewhere they cannot reach. What is the reach of the United States, yes? What is the reach of Russia? But the Kildar can reach where they cannot."

  "I get the picture," Tammie said. "Freelance James Bond."

  "Including the women, yes?" Anastasia said and then really smiled. It turned out that she had dimples, the perfect bitch. "He has a hareem, yes. But he could have a hareem anywhere, I think. He is very much all man, but not stupid in bed. Very not stupid. I will explain about the hareem in a bit, but I must add that recently, due to some other things I will not talk about without his specific permission, he had to find somewhere for a fairly large number of...call them 'fallen women.' He did so, a school in Argentina, and paid for them to go there and for their education. Since he had this school available he asked the girls who were in the hareem if they wished to leave. Two did, one who was younger than he was willing to broach and another who... well she did not have any interest in sex at all. I then, at the Kildar's insistence, pressed the other girls for why they wanted to stay. And they were definite about wanting to stay. All of them said that they liked it here and 'why should I go to some school where I will be forced to hide cucumbers from the kitchen when I have the Kildar?'"

  "Gotcha," Tammie said, chuckling.

  "I tell you this not to...pander for the Kildar, you understand?" Anastasia said, for the first time hurriedly. "But so that you can feel more comfortable with the situation. The Kildar is... How was it said: Neither fish nor fowl nor red meat. He is in a condition, a situation, for which there is no American custom or rule. He has to find his own middle ground in everything. I think, had things not happened the way they did, he would have just used local prostit
utes for his needs. But..."

  "He saved my life," Martya said, quietly. "Perhaps I would not have died, but my life would have been gone. For that I owe him everything. But I would leave but for one thing: In one more year I can also have the Kildar. For that I would give much. Shana was barely thirteen, too long for her to wait. And she told me that she was scheming of ways to get back when her time was up."

  "Martya was part of a group of girls from the local farms and villages," Anastasia said. "She and the others had been sold to, or in one case kidnapped by, the Chechens. They Chechens made the mistake of also stealing a Keldara girl. The Kildar killed them for their mistake. But he then had seven girls with no place to go. Their families did not want them back. So they had no where else to go. The Kildar was unable to find a school for them at the time so he brought them into his household as concubines. They are not whores, they serve only the Kildar. And in more ways than sex and fetching and carrying, but that is too complex a subject for today. Know that they are all volunteers and while your society considers them young, in this society they would mostly be already married. The fact that they were not was what caused them to be as the saying goes 'sent to town.'"

  "That had to be tough," Tammie said, looking at Martya.

  Kacey thought that either was Tammie being brain dead or the understatement of the year.

  "It was," Martya admitted with what Kacey thought was remarkable calm. "But things turned out very well. I have learned enough of American attitudes and lives to understand that you may not think that. Know that, for me, this is a very high honor. I am from not far from here, I have even seen my parents and forgive them for what they did. I understood it at the time and now I understand some of the cultural and economic underpinnings, yes? But while I am not Keldara, the Keldara influence a wider area than they knew. The Kildar was a legend, like your King Arthur, yes? 'Things would be better if the Kildar was here. The crops would grow better, the sun brighter, the winter shorter, all the children would be more respectful of their elders.' And now the Kildar is returned and things are better. The money he brings in helps, but so does the hope. Everyone sees how things are going for the Keldara and hope for similar changes in their own lives. People are much more reluctant to sell their daughters so that they have enough money to survive the winter. There is more money everywhere. The Keldara are gone so often that many times they have to hire laborers to take their place. The Kildar treats women as special, even though he has a hareem. Much more special than they had been in this society. So other men wonder if they should treat their women better. He 'leads by example' even when he knows it not. Things are better. And I am one of his women. That makes my status, in this society, much higher than if I had married any of the potential men around my farm. Much higher than my mother's. My family, who sold me, now have a higher status than they could even dream. Because their daughter is one of the women of the Kildar."

  "I think that should adequately cover the issue of the hareem," Anastasia said, smiling again and showing those damned dimples.

  "I'm... bemused," Tammie said. "But, yeah, I think it covers it. With one teensy-tiny question on redirect. Martya, you said that you only had to wait a year to... I guess be 'broached' as Anastasia put it, by the Kildar. How old are you?"

  "The Kildar put the 'cut-off' at sixteen," Anastasia answered for her. "Martya is fifteen. She only looks a bit younger because she tries so very very hard."

  "And I love to tease him," Martya added, grinning. "I like to bend over so he can see down my shirt, quite innocently, of course. I want him to want me so badly that I get him as a birthday present, like a new pair of earrings. Unfortunately, I never needed braces, damnit."

  "I won't even ask about that," Kacey said. "Okay, so he bought the farm and shot up some terrorists and got a harem. Where do the Keldara come in?"

  "The Keldara have been around...for a very long time," Anastasia said. "The Kildar believes that they first came to the valley as guards for the caravanserai during the Byzantine period. They show signs, cultural hold-overs, that indicate that they were part of a group called the Varangian Guard."

  "Holy shit," Tammie gasped. "You're serious?"

  "Don't get the reference," Kacey said. "Who were the Farenghi or whatever?"

  "Varangians," Tammie said, chuckling. "Although the root of both names... Oh never mind. The thing is they were Vikings that were guards of the Byzantine Emperors, an elite force. But that was fifteen hundred years ago or so. I can't believe there's any remnant."

  "The Kildar believes that this is the case, nonetheless," Anastasia said. "There are old songs that have been partially translated that indicate that this is so. But all records have, of course, been lost over the millennia. They have been the tenant farmers of the valley from before the records we've found from the Ottoman period. They also, however, supplied fighters to the Ottomans including for the local area and the caravanserai. The Ottoman Empire was, of course, made up entirely of 'foreigners' but in the case of the caravanserai it has always, in our studies, had a foreigner as the commander. Under the Ottomans they came from all over the far flung empire and even from non-Ottoman Europe. Under the Tsars they were almost invariably European adventurers, mercenaries that worked for the Tsars. And the holder of the caravanserai has been called 'The Kildar' from at least the time of the Ottomans. It is probably held as a motif by the Keldara and picked up over time. The Keldara were not entirely Norse at least according to the songs. They appear to be a mixture of Norse and some Celts from Ireland or Scotland."

  "Now even I recognize that as an odd mix," Kacey said.

  "But mixed they are," Anastasia replied. "And they have managed to hold on to a warrior tradition even under various empires. Now, of course, the Kildar is an American, the masters of the current world empire, yes? An elite warrior of high training, currently for hire, very much in tradition. He is their perfect Kildar, their Arthur returned to bring the Keldara back to their glory. They don't just follow him, they worship him as if he was one of their odd old gods, for they are only very superficially Christian. I am surprised there are not secret shrines to the Kildar," she added, chuckling.

  "Well, that's got to be kind of heady," Kacey said, a tad bitterly. "I mean he's got women throwing themselves at him and his 'retainers' worshipping him. Sucks to be him, right?"

  "I will let you make up your mind about that as time goes by," Anastasia said, tilting her head to one side and regarding the pilot calmly. "I will try to give you a hint as to what 'sucks to be him' as you put it. One of your presidents, I was told, had a plaque on his desk that said: 'The buck stops here.'"

  "Harry Truman," Tammie replied, nodding. "Your point?"

  "When you were in the Marines, you were given orders to go here and do this," Anastasia said. "And the people giving you orders were given orders all the way up to the president. You simply followed those orders; you did not live with the responsibility of their effects. With the Kildar, where does the buck stop?"

  "Oh," Tammie said.

  "He is very attached to the Keldara and he is a man who cares about not only his people but, in a way, the whole world," Anastasia said, gently. "And even the slightest mistake could destroy all he has built either through violence or politics. Consider that burden upon your own shoulders then look around. Does a hareem and a nice house compensate for that?"

  * * *

  "Lasko, a moment of your time," Mike said, his head ducked through the door of the armory.

  Lasko Ferani was the oldest member of the Mountain Tigers. One of the Keldara's designated "hunters" before the arrival of the Kildar. Now, he was still a hunter, but of men, the acknowledged leader of the Keldara team snipers.