Kildar

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 of 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.

With that he let go of her arms and lifted her legs in the air, sliding into her hard and reaching up to pin the arms down with his hands on her wrists. As he pounded her hard she panted and moaned, finally reaching up to bite him, hard, on the left shoulder. She stayed attached there, moaning into his shoulder, until she came again, almost simultaneous with his own climax.

“Oh, my God,” she whispered as he regretfully slid out of her and fumbled a tissue between her legs.

“Are you okay?” Mike asked.

“I am far, far, far more than okay,” Anastasia whispered, rolling over and sliding her arms around him. “Can I hug you? Please, Kildar?”

“I take it Otryad did not spend much time pleasing you?” Mike asked, sliding his arm around her and cradling her into his shoulder.

“I had never realized that sort of thing could happen,” Anastasia said, somewhat bitterly. “He was the only man I had ever been with and he was nothing like that. He was there for his pleasure and a girl got whatever she could from that. Thank you for being different.”

“Thank you,” Mike replied. “I won’t promise to work on you as much every time; sometimes I’ll just want a quickie. But that was pretty quick, I have to admit.”

“I will be jealous when you are with other women,” Anastasia admitted. “I will want you all to myself. I could have fun with you many times every day.”

“Too much else to do, alas,” Mike replied. “Among other things, I have seven girls to introduce to sex. Care to help?”

“If you insist,” Anastasia said, sleepily. “But I don’t think two at once in the same bed is a good introduction. Start as you mean to go on. I need to clean up. Talk about it tomorrow?”

“Whenever you want,” Mike said.

“You look like shit, Mike,” Adams said, his fingers just touching the weight bar.

“Long day yesterday,” Mike admitted, struggling to lift the weights. He’d gotten up to fast repping two-seventy-five and heavy lifting three-fifty, but at the moment he could just barely lift the two-seventy-five.

“And a very short night from the sounds of it,” Adams said. “The squeals from your new girlfriend kept waking me up.”

“It was really amazing,” Mike said, setting the weights into their holder. They’d ended up screwing at least four times during the night, despite the time they’d gotten in. He really should have slept in today, but he’d been up at six for PT instead. “And I am officially worn the fuck out.”

“You’ve got seven more to go, man,” Adams pointed out. “What the hell are you going to look like in a couple of weeks?”

“Probably dead,” Mike admitted. “But what a way to go.”

“Equipment issue starts in an hour,” Adams said. “You going to be there for it?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Mike replied. “But I need breakfast first. And coffee. Lots of coffee.”

“You’re going to need lots of oysters, bud,” Adams said, chuckling as he tossed the former SEAL a towel. “And Viagra stock.”

“Chief, they’re teenage virgins,” Mike said, toweling off. “Viagra is not going to be necessary.”

Three buildings had been completed as part of the construction. The issue was taking place in a building that would later be converted to a weapons and storage building. At the moment the lower floor was simply an open shell with a solid counter made of tables hooked together running down the middle.

The Keldara were entering through the north door and being issued their uniforms, boots and field gear by Keldara females who had been chosen for the job. The militiamen had already been broken down into six mixed platoons and assigned their two primary instructors. The instructors were already in field uniforms, Canadian digi-cam, with their rank badges, the badges of former units, specialty badges and subdued flags marking country of origin. They were standing by to answer questions as the Keldara got their issue but the issue was proceeding without a hitch.

As the Keldara entered they were each given a large duffle for their gear. Instead of being a standard seabag it had a zipper down one side and folded out. The bags were a civilian design from L.L. Bean that Mike found far superior to the standard seabag the military used, especially in these circumstances. They then proceeded down the tables, being issued hygiene items, uniforms, boots, underwear and basic field gear and cold weather gear. Mike had checked the duffels and all the gear would fit, if placed in carefully. The women had been instructed on how to load the gear and all the militiaman had to do was slide his bag down the counter and have it loaded. Each station had a list that had the name of the militiaman and his sizes in clothes and boots. Since the men were known to the women it was easy enough for them to issue the material. At the end the bag was zipped, the integral backpack straps came out and the Keldara was ready to go get it set up.

Once Team Oleg was completely issued, the two primary instructors, Matt Randolph and Duncan McKenzie led them off to their barracks. Mike followed the team over to the open bay barracks and watched, leaning against the wall, as each of the militiamen was given a designated bunk and footlocker.

“Right,” McKenzie said when all the troops were in place by their bunks. “Open your duffels. Remove one bath towel, one hand towel, the small container of shampoo, the bar of soap, one uniform blouse, one uniform trousers, one pair of socks, one pair of underwear, one T-shirt, your forage cap and one pair of boots.” As he gave the orders, he held up each item from a pile on the table at the end. “Ensure you don’t disturb all the other crap in there, or you’ll be all night sorting it out. Don’t touch the envelopes on your bloody beds; we’ll get to them in time.” The senior NCO of Team One was a veteran of the Black Watch and had a noticeable brogue even in Georgian.

Each of the items was in a plastic wrapper and there was quickly a large quantity of plastic scattered around the room.

“Efram,” the senior NCO said to the closest troop. “Grab a trash bag and get that all sorted out. Each of you pick up your litter and stuff it in the bag as Efram goes by.”

Once the litter was collected the NCO had them get out of their civilian clothes until the entire platoon was standing in the bay naked, then had them wrap the bath towels around their middles.

“Most of you lads don’t know what a bar of soap is for,” McKenzie said, striding down the runway in the middle of the barracks. “We will now conduct a class on the taking of the shower. Bring your hand towel, the shampoo and the soap.”

He led the platoon into the bathroom and had Oleg get in one of the four stalls.

“Right, two controls,” the NCO said, brusquely, pointing to them. “The left hand is usually the hot and will be marked, as this is, in red. The right is the cold. Upon one holder is a bar of soap. This is for use on the majority of your body. In the other is a bottle of generic shampoo. Shampoo is for use on the hairs of the head. In a pinch, soap can be used for shampoo and vice versa but we won’t get into advanced hygiene at this time.

“Oleg,” he continued, stepping back out of the stall, “ensuring that the majority of your body is out of the stream of water, turn the left control, the hot water control, in a clockwise motion to full. Wait until the water is running hot, then turn the right control, the cold, to a position of desired temperature. This may require turning down the hot, depending upon the relative thermal characteristics of the waters involved.”

He led the team through the class on taking a shower, including washing behind their ears with the hand towel.

“In general, you will be under time for showering,” McKenzie said when the whole team was done and standing around in their towels. “The term is shit, shower and shave. We will conduct a class on the use of a razor, which few of you are old enough to need, later. For now it’s time to get your pretty new uniforms messed up.”

For many of the Keldara the uniforms were the first completely new clothes they’d ever had and for now they found the clothing exciting rather than a pain. There was a fair amount of conversation as they changed and McKenzie got redder and redder as they took their time.

“Dawdling over clothing is for women!” he finally bellowed. “Anyone not in uniform in fifteen seconds is going to give me fifty push-ups to show they can motivate!”

As it turned out everyone made it by the timeline and McKenzie nodded in satisfaction.

“Now, on each bed, if you lads haven’t fucked off with it, is a sealed paper envelope, you will open the envelope and place all the items on your bed, carefully.”

In the envelope were two lengths of 550 parachute cord, a short length and a long one, dogtags, rubber dogtag mufflers and ID card. The latter was a heavy plastic card slightly smaller and thicker than a credit card with their picture, name and vital statistics on it.

“Right, this is the ticklish bit,” McKenzie said. “First of all, everyone ensure that it is their picture and name on the ID card. If you’re not sure, ask the lad next to you if that’s your face. Remove the thin cords from the long section of 550 cord, then slip the longer chain into the sleeve thus created.”

He led them though the process of setting up their dogtags, with the ID card hanging on the chain as well.

“The ID card is the Kildar’s innovation,” McKenzie said, glancing over at Mike. “Besides the writing on it, it has a microchip inside to hold other information. As if anyone is going to be going around with a microchip reader.”

“The medics will be issued one,” Mike said, calmly. “As will a doctor if we ever have one assigned permanently. And the hospital in Tbilisi is going to get one as well. Having medical background info will be useful. Better than carrying around a bloody file.”

“We will now, carefully and precisely, transfer the material from your duffel to your bloody footlocker,” McKenzie boomed. “And you will do it by the numbers or I will have your ass. After that you will be taught to properly make a bed and square this ratty ass barracks away to my satisfaction.”

Mike spot checked on the teams for the rest of the day, watching them get settled in. The instructors were firm but not particularly hard; that would come later. At the moment the Keldara were just getting used to their lives being regimented and instructed in very basic living standards. The Keldara took baths from time to time, mostly in the streams, but they had never had access to running water, or light switches for that matter, so every little item had to be explained. Mike and Nielson had, they thought, carefully thought out the introductory period, but it turned out there were various small problems that cropped up. Some of them the instructors handled, but a few Mike had to consult on. He also passed information from one team to the others as the problems cropped up and were dealt with.

The Keldara were fascinated by everything. Mike had had a washer and dryer installed in each of the barracks with power from heavy generators set up near the gravel pit. The fact that they could be used for washing clothes was a novel innovation to the Keldara. Light from light bulbs they’d seen in town, but had rarely had the opportunity to turn on and off. Mike found one of the instructors nearly apoplectic at a young recruit who had been turning the lights in the bathroom on and off just for the fun of it.

The training in equipment and barracks maintenance continued into the night but Mike had been firm. Until they got into full-scale training the recruits were to bed down at a normal time. By ten-thirty everything but a fire-guard light was off in each of the barracks and the trainers were back up at the caravanserai by eleven.

“Looks okay so far,” Mike said as the trainers gathered in the livingroom for a late-night beer.

“Looks good,” McKenzie said to nods from the other trainers. “Not many who are completely brain-dead, none really. A bit confused but they’ll get past that.”

“And they all think we’re nice fellows,” Vanner said in a mock brogue.

“Big party this weekend,” Mike pointed out. “Everybody ensure they have a good time.”

“So when do you start training your draftees?” Killjoy asked, grinning.

“Oh, I think Monday will do,” Mike replied. “And on that note, I’m going to get to bed. See you bright and early tomorrow.”

When Mike got to his room, Anastasia was already there.

“Do you mind if I sleep here, tonight, Kildar?” the girl asked. She was dressed in a nightgown and robe and sitting on a chair.

“Not at all,” Mike said. “But I think I need to actually get some sleep tonight. Would a quickie be okay?”

“Whatever the Kildar desires,” the girl said, standing up and slipping quickly out of the robe and nightdress.

“Whatever?” Mike asked, smiling. “I don’t have the bondage dungeon set up yet.”

“There is always the belt,” Anastasia said, smiling in return.

“First call, bucko,” Adams said, banging on Mike’s door.

“Go away,” Mike muttered, pulling the pillows over his head.

“Actually, it’s breakfast call,” Adams said, opening the door. “It’s damned near nine, buddy.”

“Christ,” Mike snapped, rolling over and looking at the clock. Sure enough, it was eight-forty. “I forgot to set the alarm.”

“You needed the extra sleep,” Adams said, grabbing a pair of shorts off a chair and tossing them at him. “But it’s range day; I know you don’t want to miss that.”

“Was that a whip I heard last night?” Adams asked as Mike sat down at the kitchen table. The breakfast on the main dining table had already been cleared.

“Don’t ask, don’t tell, buddy,” Mike said, chuckling. “And, no, it was a belt. Consensual I might add.”

“Don’t ask, don’t tell is right,” Adams said, shaking his head.

“For that matter, in the breaks I seem to remember a memory of another bed moving somewhere nearby. And since you’re the nearest room…”

“You should have named Bambi, Thumper,” Adams said, shrugging. “Boy does she ever. But you’re looking better; I take it you actually got some sleep last night.”

“Some,” Mike said, sipping his coffee and digging into breakfast. “Mother Griffina, you are a treasure.”

“You are too easy to please, Kildar,” the woman replied. “And it appears I must keep your strength up.”

“Not you, too?” Mike said, shaking his head. “Is my love life common knowledge in the whole house?”

“The whole valley is more like it,” Adams said, grinning.

“It’s like living in a fishbowl,” Mike grumped. “I think we’re going to miss first issue.”

“It’s under control,” the chief replied as Vanner came in the kitchen.

“Sorry, Kildar,” the sergeant said, waving a coffee cup. “Just getting the morning brew.”

“Make yourself at home, Vanner,” Mike said. “Good job getting the commo set up so fast. How are the Keldara women taking to it?”

“I picked out a half dozen who could read and write pretty well,” the commo specialist said, filling his cup. “They’re smart. I’d figured it would be the regular red-neck story you get in most of these tribes, but not with the Keldara. They’re smart as a whip. Good looking, too.”

“You’re keeping more than one around at all times, right?” Mike said. “Where is the commo shack, anyway?”

“First-level cellars,” Adams said. “West side.”

“How in the hell did you rig it from there?” Mike asked. “And when?”

“You’ve been busy,” Adams said, shrugging. “We took a look and that looked to be one of the more secure areas. It’s down the hall from the armory and there’s a room across from it that would make a good spot to put a duty team. Anybody coming in the caravanserai has to fight through to the back cellars and then down. The cables are run through the walls on the next level up, then trenched to the hill. From there it’s armored cable up to the antenna farm. We’re going to put in redundant antennas on the caravanserai itself and one of the other peaks.”

“Probably unnecessary, but go for it,” Mike said. “Among other things, if we get hit hard there’s nobody to call. And, yeah, that bothers me.”

“There’s a room down the hall that has a bunch of junk in it,” Vanner said. “You could put in a pretty good command room there. There’s enough room, that’s for sure. Run some commo through the walls and you’d be set. All in one nice neat little position. I could train up some of the ladies to make decent CIC personnel; they’re already doing well at map reading.”

“You probably won’t get hit heavy,” Adams said. “But if someone starts dropping mortars on your head, it would help to be at least one level down.”

“Go for it,” Mike said. “Good idea.”

“Your wish is my command, Kildar,” Vanner said, waving his coffee mug in salute.

“How’d you run the satellite phone down there?” Mike asked after a moment’s thought.

“We set up an antenna and a booster box at the antenna farm,” the former Marine said. “If you’ve got the codes, you can connect direct to the Iridium relay satellites in geosync, and I do. Took a firmware hack on the hardware, but that was easy enough. Just a spare chip I had lying around and a few lines of code.”

“Did you understand any of that?” Mike asked when the commo specialist was gone.

“Something about an antenna,” the chief said, shrugging. “It works, don’t fuck with it.”

“What happens when it breaks?” Mike asked.

“Call Vanner back over,” the chief said, with another shrug. “Or somebody like him. You’re probably going to need a commo geek around anyway.”

“More permanent residents,” Mike sighed. “I didn’t think this all the way out. Everything made so much sense when I came up with this brilliant idea. Little did I know…”

“Yours not to reason why,” Adams said. “Yours is but to get out there and act like you have a clue what is going on.”