Kacey suddenly realized that despite the strong appearance of focus and animation this guy wastired .

Desperately tired. He didn't show it much, but something about the way he leaned back told her he hadn't been getting much sleep lately.

"We need ground crew," Kacey said.

"The Czechs are supplying a crew initially," Mike said, nodding. "I'm not sure if they can teach the Keldara women everything they need to know. They're going to be very much starting from scratch and I'm even running out of labor on that side. I may end up hiring some outside personnel. But for this mission you're going to have a supplied Czech ground-crew, the team leader at least speaking good English."

"Well we're going to need agood crew chief," Kacey said. "What the Air Force calls a flight engineer.

Somebody familiar with the birds. More familiar than we are would be best."

"That's going to be harder," Mike said with a sigh. "If you know anybody hirable I'll hire them, gladly.

And if you can't find somebody, if I have to I'll tap the Uncle Sam well again. I'd prefer you find them. If you take the job and head to CR you'll be taking a sat phone. Feel free to use it extensively. You realize that it might become necessary to solo fly on one or more missions."

"Solo," Tammie said. "On a hot mission?"

"Two birds, two pilots," Mike said, stone-faced. "But I won't tell you to. If the moment comes you'll just do it. Or I've got the wrong pilots."

"Pierson."

"Colonel, this is Major Fowler in USAF Missions Tasking."

"Go," Pierson said with a sigh.

"Sir, your office has placed a tasking on us for two C-17s to loft a Ranger company to the country ofGeorgia and perform an airborne insertion."

"And we've got a high level tasking number on it," Pierson said. "What's the problem."

"The problem, sir, is that we're flat out of birds for that period," the major replied. "Sir, you can go through a general or the USAF Chief of Staff or the president, but the problem is that the tasker is in too quick of time. We don't have birds we can redeploy that fast that aren't on equal high level taskers."

"Major, that was a JCS level tasker," Pierson said, confused.

"Sir, you can look at my board if you'd like," the major said. "We shot this around for quite a while because it was such a high tasker. But you're talking about six day's time and most of our -17s are deployed over in the AOR. And if we turn two birds we're going to fail on equally high-level taskers. Sir, we're scheduled out twomonths not two weeks. b.i.t.c.h about not having enough lift or whatever you'd like, sir, I fully agree. But we're out-tasked at the moment. The only birds we could recall would be on theAzerbaijan relief missions and I note that you've already taskered one of our birds from that."

"Time to pound your nuts flat and find me two birds," the colonel said.

"Sir, I already got out the brick," the major said with a sigh. "You're not the first person I've had this conversation with today, just the highest tasker. We did come up with an OTB idea, though."

Pierson, who thought of himself as a master, even if he hated to admit it, of Pentagonspeak locked up on "OTB" then managed to pa.r.s.e it. "How 'Out-of-the-Box?'"

"Sir, we can fly them commercial to Ukraine. The Ukrainians finally have those new AN-70s which are essentially identical to C-130s from a jumper's perspective. They fly and drop about the same, they just carry a bunch more troops."

Pierson rolled that one around in his head for a moment. It had a certain allure but a dozen problems jumped up immediately in his mind.

"Ukraine is registered as a friendly country, not allied," Pierson said, musingly. "They're going to want to get paid for the bird time."

"There's a coding for payments for air-time to friendly nations," Major Fowler replied. "We already checked. The problem from our perspective is that their aircraft aren't mission certified. The AF mil attache in Ukraine is a former cargo pilot. I contacted him off-record and he says that he's seen enough of their ops to be able to do a prelim cert but he's not sure he could full cert them for airborne ops. He doesn't have a problem with them being able todo airborne ops, the cert paperwork is pretty complex, though. There's a way around that, though."

"Don't keep me waiting, major," Pierson said, dryly.

"For TS ops, and I note that this op has a codeword cla.s.s over the confidential attached to the op, there's a point at which we can skip the cert requirement due to mission confidentiality."

"That sounds like following the letter while violating the spirit," Pierson said. "Ilike it."

"Yes, sir, I thought you might," the major replied with a chuckle. "But here's a stranger one, sir. Brace yourself."

"Go."

"How about a press release? 'Elite US military force uses Ukrainian Air Force for training operation.'"

"Major, you just noted that this operation is TS codeword," Pierson pointed out.

"The drop, though, is Confidential. We can get low-level permission to open it to the PIO with certain mission data left out. We think it would be good press and the Ukrainian government would probably appreciate it. They've got problems withRussia and showing thattheir planes can carry American special-ops..."

Pierson really had to pause at that one. The major in tasking didn't realize, because that side of the mission was totally black at a very high level, to justwhat extent it might tweak the Russians.

"Major, begin the tasking but final authority is probably going to have to come after consultation with higher," Pierson said after a moment's thought. "Certainly the press release will have to hold. I'll get back to you. But get working on the tasking and I'll get back on the rest."

"Yes, sir," the major said, deflated. He clearly was enjoying playing at that level.

"Major, I'm not just being an a.s.shole," Pierson said. "There are parameters to this mission, the reasons that it is codeworded at such a high level, that may be risked at a higher level by some of these actions.

The truth is, I'm not qualified or knowledgeable enough to decide. But I can contact those that can better eval the risks and rewards."

"They want to dowhat ?" the Secretary of State said.

"Mike needs the Rangers to ensure security and for amaskirova ," Pierson said, sighing. "Rangers or somebody like them. I'd actually considered Polish PROM commandoes, but that was just too complicated to set up. So the Rangers are going. But then SOCOM noted that the entire company is just about out of jump pay status due to deployments, one of the reasons they're back in the States besides to get some down-time. So we were going to throw a jump in as a sweetener and to keep them on status.

But we are tasked out for birds. I double checked that one and we reallyare flat tasked out. There are actually a couple of ARNG units we could call up for it, but they're out of cert on airborne ops and d.a.m.ned near undeployable or they'd be tasked. So that left looking outside the box. Which means the Ukrainians. They have indicated a willingness, h.e.l.l an eagerness, to do a drop with our Rangers. But then I got to thinking about how the Russians would react, given what the op is all about..."

"Vladimir Putin is going to be livid," the Secretary of State said. "We've been treading very carefully on military contact with the Ukrainians because the situation is so delicate. And this jumps right past half a dozen normal steps. The press release... Brilliant. Just brilliant."

"Yes, ma'am," Pierson sighed. "We'll just fly them commercial to Tbilisi, then. Mike has ammo; they can draw on him. The mission won't be all that long and by the time they're on their way back we'll probably have taskable birds so they can get their jump in..."

"Colonel, at what point did I indicate that Idon't want Vladimir Putin livid?" the SecState asked. "You were right to bring this to my attention. Here's what we'll do..."

Chapter Eighteen.

As soon as the door closed to the office, Kacey shook her head.

"That man is insane," she muttered. "Totally, completely and utterly insane."

"Yep," Tammie said, still in that strange voice. "So insane that he'd swim ash.o.r.e on an island overrun by terrorists, kill them all and still come rescue us and the Marines with a boat. Even though he looked like a colander at the time."

"Sure, but that doesn't mean I want to attach myself to his coat-strings," Kacey said, biting her lip. "I mean, he survives but what about the body countaround him. Doing this sort of s.h.i.t for SAR, with FAST, that's one thing. G.o.d and country and all that. But we're doing it for money, Tams. Is that worth getting our a.s.s shot off?"

"Okay, great," Tammie said. "We say 'No thanks' take our showing up bonus and head back to the States. Wait on one of our many solicitous phone calls. Eat high until the money runs out and then get a job at the 7/11. What are we waiting for? Sounds great. Get a cat."

"Very funny." Kacey was allergic. "I'mserious , Tammie.This is serious. I mean, so we don't get a flying job. We're bothNavalAcademy graduates. We don'thave to work at the 7/11."

"Sure," Tammie said, her eyes wide. "You've got a creative writing degree, I've got one in English lit.

You write them and I'll critique them and we'll make a mint."

"Oh, G.o.d," Kacey groaned. "The guy's obviously American military of some sort, although you notice he didn't mention what sort. But if he's got a harem, he's bound to have a bar. We'll find it. You get drunk.

I'll watch."

"I'd rather check this place out," Tammie said. "It'sreally cool."

"You're in love," Kacey said. "Mystery and romance and castles in the sky. As always, I've got to keep you grounded."

"Which is just what we're both going to be if we don't take the gig," Tammie pointed out, walking down the corridor. "First we find the harem girls. They'll lead us tosomebody who speaks English. I mean, they've been taking cla.s.ses."

"Pillow cla.s.ses," Kacey snorted but she followed.

When they got to the front room, though, the cl.u.s.ter of girls had disappeared. Tammie was standing with her hands on her hips when the front door opened and a big bald guy in digicam, clearly directly off the range from the smell, stepped into the area and paused, looking them over.

"Oh, Christ, not more harem girls," the man muttered in an annoyed tone. "That boy's got aserious problem."

"f.u.c.k you, a.s.shole," Kacey snapped back.

"We'renot harem girls," Tammie replied at the same time. "We'repilots ."

"Pilots?" the man said, his eyes flying wide in joy. "We've got pilots? Halle-f.u.c.king-leuia! We've got PILOTS!".

"Not yet," Kacey said, angrily. She was still p.i.s.sed about the Harem Girl crack. She also wanted to know more about the "harem." She was hoping, at a certain level, that it was a joke but she suspected it wasn't. "We're still considering it. Carefully."

"Oh, well, in that case you definitely want the job," the guy said, fulsomely. "The living conditions are great, the food's excellent, the beer's outstanding and the pay is awesome. What more could you ask?"

"I don't drink," Kacey said. "And a guarantee that we'll survive would be nice."

"Nope, can't do that one," the guy admitted. "Can't guaranteeI'll survive. But the missions are worth it and the people are top-notch. If you end up taking the Valkyrie ride you'll be in plenty of bad company.

Wewill guarantee that."

As he said that a side door opened and an absolutely beautiful woman walked into the foyer. Kacey wasn't kinked that way but she knew f.u.c.king beautiful when she saw it. Neither she nor Tammie were slouches in the looks department, but this lady put them both to shame. She looked like a supermodel.

Blonde, blue eyes, low to mid-twenties, stacked and an absolutely gorgeous face. She was wearinga lot of make-up but so artfully applied it looked almost as if she wasn't wearing any. Blue, probably silk again, pant-suit that looked as if it was aParis original. And graceful as h.e.l.l. Probably Russian at a guess, definitely not American. She reminded Kacey of a young d.u.c.h.ess character in an old movie. The lady had that look about her, like Zha Zha Gabor when she wasyoung .

"Master Chief," the woman said, nodding. "I see you have met our visitors." Her English was impeccable but there was a definite Slavic accent. "I zee you haff met our vizeetors."

"Christ, I hope they're not just visitors," the "master chief" grunted. "We arescrewed without pilots."

"We're still considering," Tammie said, much more gently than Kacey. "And we haven't been introduced."

"Ah, this is my fault," the woman replied. "I was supposed to be your tour guide but I expected your meeting to be longer. I am Anastasia Rakovich, the Kildar's administrative manager. This is Master Chief Adams, late of the United States Navy Sea Air and Land commandoes, the Kildar's field tactical manager. Master Chief Adams, Captains Bathlick and Wilson, late of the United States Marine Corps."

"Who's the Kildar?" Tammie said at the same time as Kacey said: "SEALs?" andAdams said: "You're Marines ?"

"I am given to understand that they have combat experience with the United States Marine Corps,"

Anastasia said, answering the Master Chief first. "The Kildar is Mr. Jenkins. It is his t.i.tle. I will explain.

And, yes, Master Chief Adams is a former SEAL as they say. I understand that 'ex' is looked upon poorly."

"Yeah, we've got experience," Tammie said with a snort. "We pulled your boss out of the drink one time. Or... Well, he sort of pulledus ... It's complicated."

"You're the two that crashed that helo in the Carib,"Adams said with a snort. "Oh. Great. I take it all back."

"We took a short range EMP blast you moron," Kacey snapped. "What the f.u.c.k were we supposed to do without G.o.d d.a.m.ned engines? We were lucky to set it down light enough most of the FAST made it off!"

"I was yanking your chain,"Adams said evenly. "Anybody that's willing to flytowards an LZ that has an active nuke on it gets my vote. You guys want a beer?"

"I'd prefer tequila," Tammie said, happily. "But I'll settle for beer."

"This isn't beer you settle for,"Adams said. "This is beer you kill for."

"I was going to show them around, first," Anastasia pointed out.

"I'd say take the cook's tour,"Adams admitted. "This is a pretty interesting place. And I really need a shower. To answer your unspoken question, Anastasia, no, it is not going well. I think that Shota's mother dropped him on his head as a baby. I asked her, point blank, if she had and she said she had not.

But apparently he had a hard time finding his way out when he was birthed, so maybe it's pre-natal."

"You asked a woman if she'd dropped her son on his head?" Tammie asked, amazed.

"Yeah, but you'd have to understand the set-up here,"Adams said. "It wasn't even a particularly unexpected question. Shota's well known among the Keldara. Big as an ox and just about as dumb.

Really good shot with a Carl Gustav, though. I think I need to just switch him out but if I can get him to learn to count as high as five he'll be awesome for door-kicking. I mean, he'd kick down a bank vault.

But, G.o.d, he's dumb."

"Well, we'll go take the cook's tour," Tammie said, "while you're having a shower. Then I'll get you drunk and pry all your secrets out of you."

"The day a woman can out-drink me I'll turn in my trident,"Adams said, chuckling but then his face cleared. "Except this one bartender at Danny's. But that girl was a f.u.c.kingpro . I saw her drink a whole platoon under the table one time. That's a professional. Admittedly, one without a functioning liver, but a pro nonetheless. You guys go take the cook's tour, I'm gonna go grab a shower and try to figure out a way to teach Shota to count as high as five. I mean, if they can teach monkeys sign language, I should be able to teach him to count to five for f.u.c.k's sake. Maybe a little rhyme or an advertising jingle..."

The former SEAL wandered off, muttering.