“Are these quarters acceptable, captain?” Anastasia asked, waving at the room.
The bedroom was about twice the size of the master bedroom of the house Guerrin had, until the divorce, shared with his wife. The floor was marble but covered in deep pile throw rugs that looked hand-made. The bed could best be described as “sumptuous”, a king size four poster with those hanging things on the side. For that matter there was a desk and a small seating area and nice paintings, maybe originals Guerrin had no clue, covered the walls. There were two doors on one side and through the open one he could see enough that it was apparent there was an attached bathroom that was on the same order as the room.
The one odd aspect was that the two windows of the room were rather small and deep, making it deeply shadowed. Then he had to kick himself. Duh. Castle.
“The only problem with them is the vague feeling that I shouldn’t be living like this when more than half my company’s in barracks,” Guerrin admitted. “And this is a guest room?”
“This is one of the three Distinguished Person guest rooms,” Anastasia said. “We occasionally have visits from distinguished individuals and the Kildar felt it wise to set up some rooms for their stay and left the details to me.”
“You do good work,” Guerrin said. “You can decorate my house any time. If I could afford it.”
“If you know where to shop, and have a ready source of labor to do sewing, it is not so expensive,” Anastasia said with a smile. “What kind of house do you have?”
“Had,” Guerrin said. “Lost it in the divorce. Pretty standard two story tract home. Liked it but not enough to stay. My wife liked a 3rd ID officer more than me.”
“I’m sorry,” Anastasia replied.
“Yeah, well, she got the cats, too,” Guerrin said with a shrug. “So I looked at it as a fair trade.”
“Colonel Nielson asked that you join him in the tactical operations center as soon as you were settled,” Anastasia said. “When you’re ready just step out in the hall. I will have a guide waiting.”
Guerrin followed the young lady to the lower level then into the main foyer. As they reached the area the front door opened and two females in flight suits, one short, one a bit above average female height, walked in the taller one chuckling about something.
“Hello,” Guerrin said, looking them over. Both were wearing those unfamiliar rank tabs and he made a mental note to find out what the rank structure of the organization was and how to read the tabs. “I take it I have you to thank for plucking me out of the trees. Captain J.P. Guerrin, United States Army.”
“Captain Kacey Bathlick,” the shorter pilot said, walking over to shake his hand. “Glad to give you a ride, captain.”
“Captain Tamara Wilson,” the taller added. “No problem. Any time.”
“The young lady was showing me the way to the TOC,” Guerrin said. “I guess we can touch base later. I’d appreciate a bit more background on this place. Nothing confidential… ”
“We’re new here, too,” Captain Wilson replied. “But we were headed down to the TOC, too. We can show you the way.”
“Okay,” Guerrin said, turning to his guide. The girl couldn’t have been a day over seventeen and had some of the best knockers he’d ever seen in his life. “I go with them, yes?”
“Okay,” the girl replied, smiling and shrugging. “Go back to class.”
“Class?” Guerrin said as the two pilots continued across the foyer.
“All the girls are taking classes,” Captain Bathlick replied. “It may be a harem but apparently the Kildar would rather move them out with an education under their belt. Apparently he only took them in at first because nobody else would. It was that or dump them on the street to be whores. Concubines was a good second choice. Actually, the one girl we talked to saw it as a first choice if she’d had one. The Kildar’s a big guy around these parts.”
“More than around these parts,” Guerrin said.
“You noticed?” Captain Wilson said, dryly. “We got recruited by some spec-ops unit that works in the Pentagon. Just came to our apatment in DC and told us to get on the a plane to Georgia, don’t worry about visas, it’s taken care of. And it was. You got flown over here like a FedEx package: guaranteed delivery by nine AM. They even diverted a C-130 on a relief mission for a part of this package. The guy has got clout.”
“How long have you been here, if I can ask?” Guerrin said as Captain Bathlick, the shorter one, opened an obviously heavy door. When it was open it was apparent that it was steel and about as thick as an armored hatch on a cruiser. Since it was covered in a thin wood facing — not veneer: very thinly sliced wood — the sturdiness wasn’t apparent. Anybody trying to force the door was going to have to use some very advanced entry techniques. An oxyacetylene torch probably wouldn’t even cut it.
“Not long,” Captain Wilson answered. “We got recruited, flew over, agreed to the job, flew the same day to the Czech Republic, trained in on the bird and then flew it back. We only got here, again, a couple of days ago. We’re still trying to catch our breath.”
The door led to a narrow spiral staircase. Fighting down is always easier than fighting up but Guerrin would not have wanted to fight down these. At the base was a small landing, another heavily armored door, this one undisguised, then a t-intersection to a corridor lined with doors.
“Welcome to the dungeons,” Captain Bathlick said. “To the right is the TOC, commo room, signals intelligence and commander’s combat office. To the left is the humint area. Prisoner holding and interrogation chambers on the lower levels.”
“Holy shit,” Guerrin said. “This is a much bigger operation than I’d realized.”
“Yeah,” Captain Bathlick said. “When we got here we saw these, well, peasants running around with guns and thought ‘what the fuck, over?’ Then we started dealing with them and, well, the Keldara are something. I’ve barely had any dealings with the Kildar, mind you, but he’s pretty interesting, too.”
“Hmmm… ” Guerrin said then grinned. “I’m coming up on my open resignation time. I wonder how you get a job around here?”
“You get asked,” Captain Wilson said, chuckling. “And you have to be very very good at what you do.” She paused and then grinned. “My that sounded arrogant.”
“Ladies, you plucked me out of some trees and dropped me out of a SABO with the smoothest skill in a helo I’ve ever seen,” Guerrin replied. “And now you tell me you’ve only got a couple of days in the bird. I’m not going to knock your ‘arrogance’.”
“Why captain, I do believe that was a compliment,” Captain Bathlick said. “Kacey,” she added, holding out her hand.
“J.P.,” Guerrin replied. “It stands for Jean-Paul. Long story.”
“Star Trek fans?” Kacey asked, then shook her head. “Nah, not young enough.”
“Tamara,” Tammie added. “It’s a short story. I’m named after a space hooker.”
“Excuse me,” J.P. said, blinking.
“Love it,” Tammie said, laughing at his expression. “It’s a character in a book… ”
“Tamara Sparling?” J.P. asked. “Tamara Sparling was not a ‘space hooker.’ She was a hetaera. More like one of the Companions in Firefly. Very high status.”
“My God,” Kacey said. “The man reads Heinlein and knows about Firefly. There may be hope for the Rangers after all.”
“I know,” Tammie said, more or less simultaneously. “But I like ‘space hooker’ better.”