John Ringo: Kildar

“Okay,” Mike said, flipping through the book and sighing. “We’re going to work out together, then we’ll go do some shooting. Go change into shorts and a T-shirt for this. I suppose you could work out in a skirt, but it’s not normal.”

Mike was through his warm-up when the girl got back to the room. He looked her over and nodded.

“Your thighs are pretty solid,” Mike said. “We’ll start today working on upper body.”

“Yes, Kildar,” Katya said, puzzled.

“You need to warm up, first,” Mike said, leading her over to the cross-trainer. He showed her how to use it and set it for a fifteen-minute light course. “When the time runs out, we’ll start warming up your upper body; this is just to get your heart working.”

He moved over to the circuit training and dialed in his settings, then started pumping. He’d barely gotten through the triceps workout when Kat was done. He showed her how to reset the Nautilus machines and gave her a general weight range to work with. She noticed that he was moving at least five times her workout weight.

“Are you set me low to keep from making strong?” Kat asked, looking at him coldly.

“You have to start low,” Mike said just as coldly. “I’ll build you up to the max you’re good for. But if you think you’re going to pump my level, ever, you’re sadly mistaken. You can go ahead and try if you’d like,” he added with a grin.

They worked on the circuit for an hour, a light workout for him but about as much as Kat could take on her first day.

“Arms tired,” Katya said, working her shoulders. She had sweat dripping down her face and wiped at it with a towel.

“You just thought you were in shape,” Mike said, grinning. “Come on.”

He led her down the corridor to a room at the far end from the intel room that had been set up as a dojo, where there were punching bags and floor pads.

“I’m going to show you a few fight moves,” Mike said. “If you use them on the girls…”

“I’m in trouble,” Kat said, nodding.

“When I start working the girls, I’ll bring them in for this as well,” Mike noted. “But you’ll be doing this most of the time. In time, you’ll be helping to train.”

“Yes, Kildar,” Kat said. “Thank you.”

“Most people, when they fight with hands, use a closed fist,” Mike said, handing her a pair of fighting gloves. “Like this,” he said, punching a bag with his fist. “And they punch to the target. Try to hit the surface. You understand?”

“Yes,” Katya said, frowning.

“Better to use the open palm,” Mike said, opening up his hand and pointing to the base of the his palm. “Curve the fingers, hit at the base of your palm. That has the bones of your arm lined up with the target and it transmits more power. It also won’t break your fingers, which hitting with a closed fist will do. And hit through the target,” he continued, striking the bag hard. “The important thing is the speed of the strike. You must do it over and over again, learn to strike very fast, like a snake, and hard. Work on that for now,” he said, stepping away from the bag. “Hard and fast.”

She stepped up to the bag and punched it, hard, with an open-hand right hand.

“Harder,” Mike said. “And faster. Think of someone you hate, me if you want. And punch through the bag,” he continued, pointing to the middle of the bag. “Try to get your hand through to here.”

She hit again, harder, then again, her face working.

“Gets some of the mad out, don’t it?” Mike said. “Now the other hand, alternate the two. Hard, fast and through with both. Go.”

She started hitting with both hands and then shifted around on her feet uncomfortably.

“You noticed you weren’t standing right, good,” Mike said, tapping at her ankles with his foot. “Right foot there, left foot forward. Cat stance is what it’s called, coincidentally. Hit twice, one each hand, then pause.”

When she’d finished the strikes he had her move one foot then the other, circling the bag.

“Keep your body centered,” Mike said, running his finger down an imaginary line. “Bring your butt forward a bit; you’re leaning away from the target. If you know where your center is, you can bring more power to the strikes. Don’t kick, just strike, then move. We’ll work on kicks later; most kicks are for show-offs anyway.”

“You kick in Ondah contest,” Kat said, panting. She hit twice, then moved, circling the bag.

“I was showing off,” Mike said. “And Oleg was a big SOB. Kicks have more power than hand strikes. But there are more counters, too. Keep going.”

He worked her on strikes and moving for about an hour until she was dripping with sweat.

“Go take a shower,” Mike said, when the girl was pretty much worn out. “Then meet me at the office in regular uniform.”

Mike was back at his desk, showered, when Kat turned up. She’d spent enough time to get makeup on but she wasn’t much slower than he had been.

“Have you worked with a computer?” Mike asked, pulling his laptop out of its case.

“No, Kildar,” Katya said, her eyes widening.

“This one doesn’t have anything secure on it,” Mike said, opening the computer up. “I was working on my typing, though. I’d never learned to touch type. So it’s got a teaching program on it.” He brought up the program and led her to the room he’d set up as a conference room. “This program will run you though how to touch type. It’s about the most boring thing in the world, but it’s important to learn. And it’s in English, so you’ll have twice as much to think about. It should keep you occupied,” he added with a smile.

Mike ran through his bare minimum paperwork and then headed out to the household range. As part of the whole improvements program, Meller had bermed the walls of the range and Praz had upgraded the range and included a small tactical range.

Mike ran through a program circuit with M-4 and pistol, which was his scheduled shoot for the day, taking up most of the rest of the afternoon. By the time he was done the sun was starting to set. He dropped the weapons in the armory — Latif had been trained in cleaning so he could leave it to him — and washed up for dinner.

He stopped by the conference room and found Katya still plugging away at the computer.

“Dinner time,” Mike said, walking over to look over the girl’s shoulder.

“This not hard,” Katya replied. She’d run through the first four levels of the training program, which had taken Mike most of a week of solid work. Given that it wasn’t in her native tongue, it was doubly impressive. And the program wouldn’t let you move on to the next level until you’d passed the requisite test.

“You’re doing very well,” Mike said, shaking his head. “I think you were being severely underutilized. If you keep to this rate, I’ll be using you a secretary in a week,” he added with a grin. “I won’t keep you as a secretary — you’ll get bored to tears after a while — but you’ll learn some useful skills.”

“Would like learn more about computer,” Katya said. “Am have trouble with pad,” she said, pointing to the touchpad on the laptop.

“The only way to learn is to do it,” Mike pointed out. “There are games on there, simple ones. If you play those you’ll learn to use it faster. I’ll show them to you sometime, not now. It’s time for dinner.”

“And time for Klavdiya to learn, yes?” Katya said maliciously.

“Unlike for some,” Mike pointed out, “I’m planning on having it be a good time.”

Mike had had some changes made to the rooms upstairs. He’d had the master bath opened out into one of the adjoining rooms, adding a large shower and Jacuzzi tub, used the rest of the room to make a small office and sitting area, increased the size of the closet, had a gun safe installed in it and converted one of the rooms adjoining his suite into a small dining room with attached kitchen. Effectively, he never had to leave the suite.