Chapter 9

When Hap arrived back at NAS West Floral, he saw Cap bot construction teams had already begun restoring the buildings. Most of the material had been brought across the river and lay in neat stacks around the perimeter. Machines had cleared the rubble from the taxiways and runways and piled it into heaps for removal or to backfill excavations. Everything was tidy, efficient and completely obvious to whoever chose to observe the activity. If this was to be a secret base, no-one was spending any effort on security.

"Where is the best place to hide a tree?" asked the Cap commander, Senior Colonel John Hopworth. It was an old saying, but appropriate in the circumstances. Very little could be kept secret - Com spy rings were well known - so it made sense to treat the refurbishment of West Floral as a routine event. A cover story was hardly necessary. 'Ark authorities had requested the help of Cap contractors to repair a facility they intended to use for their own purposes.'

Wilson had turned up as the official Ark side of the enterprise. With him were two dozen or so Machovistan cavalry, so fierce in demeanor, Cap soldiers readily avoided them. And these were not semi trained conscript or rear echelon boys, but hardened men of the 4th Ranger Battalion. Hap thought reputations were being made here that would stand them in good stead in years to come.

No sooner had he arrived after the long and arduous journey from Iberica, than he was thrown into planning meetings with Hopworth, and Wilson. Caps are fond of meetings, Hap remembered, and needed meetings to plan meetings.

Military men of whatever nation often found more in common with each other than with civilians. Consequently, Hap, who, after all, was ex Cap military himself, found it easy to get along with his 'partners.' Hopworth and Wilson got on particularly well. One of the first orders of the day was to compare equipment and the Rangers found they quite liked the allsuit of the Black Guard. The Cap shredder mine attracted the interest of the Black Guard because of its light weight and flexibility in operations. It was potentially a very handy addition to the arsenal for covert missions.

The Administration building, so familiar to Hap, had been all but resurrected to its former glory. The Cap military was obsessed with standardization and Hap found West Floral buildings were being reconstructed exactly how they'd been according to strict Military formulas. Even the kitchen equipment and mess furniture was exactly the same. Hap felt a startling sense of deja vu.

Cap Special Ops squads were organized in teams of six and named after Greek letters. 'Alphas', 'Gammas' and 'Deltas', etcetera, were picked from all the services in the Cap military solely on ability. Like the Black Guard, these boys and girls wore no badges of rank nor unit patches. Like the Black Guard also, they maintained a certain swagger about themselves and a keen esprit de corps. SOs knew they were the best and wasted no opportunity in reminding others.

On the other hand, their discipline was outstanding and rivaled that of the Black Guard who, after all, had been trained in the tradition of Federal Russia's 'Spetznaz.' The irony of this conjunction of east and west - for so many years bitter rivals on a global scale - wasn't lost on Hap.

Traditionally, Cap SOs were inserted by air - by helicopter or out the door of a low flying aircraft - but these days that method was all but impossible. Like the Black Guard, the Caps had to learn to ride a horse - not the tame nags of times gone by, but the notoriously temperamental Sibirsk/Arab of the Russians. This breed, the culmination of many years of careful breeding, had little of the typical characteristics of either the squat Siberian or the slender Arab. Sibirsk/Arabs had been bred for the extremes of climate, were quick, strong and the Russians believed they were far more intelligent than their riders.

The Sibirsk/Arab forms a particularly strong bond with its rider, and vice versa, and the Russians believed a horse needed to 'develop a love affair' with its human partner. If a horse didn't like its rider, then it will dump him on his arse every time. There were many instances of folks, unable to come to terms with the death of their horse, quickly following them. Cap soldiers had to learn to ride these semi wild beasts as though born on them in a few weeks. The Bakhunins were skeptical, and so was Hap, who, it should be remembered, didn't ride himself.

Back at Iberica, Secoweya noticed Moira Lys's alcohol consumption increased practically the moment Hap departed for West Floral. Several times she found her drunk and crying her eyes out, but, when Secoweya tried to comfort her, she either became angry or insisted she was fine and had 'overindulged a little.' Mirri was worried, too, but appeared helpless. Secoweya decided Moira Lys needed something to do until Hap either returned or she joined him.

She thought it ironic that a woman who so espoused the notion of free love and personal independence couldn't cope with separation from a man who, she frequently told Secoweya, was merely 'a convenient bonk' or 'a good screw.'

The next time Suetonius 'came a calling' Secoweya decided to ask him to find a job for her.

While 'her sisters' love lives appeared to be in crisis, hers, on the other hand, had been going from strength to strength. Suetonius had been gentlemanly, impeccably well behaved, attentive and charming. There was an aristocratic quality to the man - not in an authoritarian sense - but in his manners and demeanor. He was old fashioned in that he held doors open, brought her gifts and flowers and made sure she was comfortable.

They had gone riding together, walked and talked over bowls of marinated chicken salad. He had told her of his boyhood growing up in the once rich wine country where the Ukraine intrudes into the Hungarian Plain south of the Carpathian mountains. They'd been a wealthy family but, as the land dried up, much of the local economy, as well as that of the Ukraine as a whole, withered. The Ukraine, together with Belarus, had been absorbed politically by Russia, a fact his father couldn't tolerate. His family had packed up and left wandering around Europe as one of many refugees until finding their way to America.

The desperation of his childhood had created great internal discipline in Suetonius. Self reliance was an essential quality when absolutely no help was available anywhere else. His family had fallen in with the horse culture of other Ukrainian settlers and learned as they went along. Suetonius had grown to love horses.

Although the Ukrainians had named themselves after Nestor Makhno, the Anarchist leader who fought alongside the Communists during the Russian Revolution and Civil War, Suetonius was, himself, politically conservative. He told Secoweya Makno represented the kind of extremism that had bedeviled old Russia and ensured the people never got the kind of government they deserved. Instead, he said, democratic institutions had been subverted and made to serve those in power rather than the other way around.

However, today was Secoweya's birthday, and Suetonius had promised a special treat. He arrived to pick her up promptly at seven, complete with a horse for her. He was dressed in a long, belted, Cossack tunic in white with dark cavalry trousers tucked into black riding boots. On his left hip was a machine pistol in an open holster and on the right, a beautiful, inlaid belt knife in platinum and titanium with a blue cloisonne enamel set in the pummel. Around his neck was a pendant in very old gold depicting the orthodox cross. This hung on a plain gold chain. On his head was a floppy, wide brimmed peasant hat. Suetonius swung his leg extravagantly over the saddle and jumped down to assist Secoweya onto her mare.

Beside her, Mirri stood slack-jawed in awe and jealousy. In her, admittedly, short life thus far, never had anyone arrived to pick her up with such utter finesse, resplendent like a Tartar, and in so gentlemanly a manner. She was intensely aware of the crowd gathering around them, for, although many had seen Suetonius come by to see Secoweya, they had never seen him quite like this before. It was the best show in town today.

Normally Secoweya would've chosen a long dress, but this would be inelegant atop a horse. Her buckskins were beyond repair, so she chose an embroidered pelisse over a plain ecru tunic. Cullottes ended just below her knees and on her feet were high, black felted boots. Her long hair she'd bound into a pony tail and over her head was a silk gypsy scarf sewn with beads and brass charms.