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"Feel free to practice on the Kurian Tower. No shell fired at that is wasted, as far as I'm concerned."
"In all honesty, sir, I'm not sure I'm up to being battery officer. Could you give me a new commander? Like Styachowski? She knows the theory, and she's good at putting theory into practice."
It took guts for Hanson to tell Valentine that he didn't feel up to the job.
"I'll talk it over with her."
"Thanks, sir. We'll get 'em firing again."
"I'll talk to Beck about getting your ready magazine rebuilt."
"Yeah, it's probably landing in Berlin right about now."
* * * *
Valentine finished his walk of the perimeter. The men were in better spirits than he would have expected; killing the Reapers and resisting the probe had made them confident.
What success they enjoyed should be shared with Beck's defenses. There were clearings along the easier paths up the hill for open fields of fire, and a series of foxholes and trenches, many lined with logs, for the men to do their shooting. They were still digging dugouts for the men to wait out shellfire, adding interconnecting trenches and access to the flatter hilltop so the men could bring food and water forward safely, and laying mines and wire along likely alleys of approach. Valentine saw one of Kessey's-now Hanson's-forward observers teaching the other soldiers the defensive fire mission zones. With the use of a simple code word, they could call in mortar fire on their attackers.
He returned to the headquarters building, and asked around for Styachowski. She was in her usual spot, beneath the speaker in the radio lounge, eating a bowlful of rice and milk. Her skin had that translucent look to it again; she'd been pushing herself too hard.
"What is that?" Valentine asked.
"Rice pudding. Narcisse made it."
"Don't you ever sleep? You were up all last night."
"Listening to the radio is like sleep. I can zone. What I really need is food."
"I'd still rather see you flat on your back."
"Major, under the Uniform Code, I believe you've just made a sexual suggestion."
Valentine snorted. "That's not what I meant and you know it."
"I was trying to make a joke. You look like you need one."
"Hank Smalls is missing. Since last night. Hanson sent him with a message ... He never came back."
"A Reaper?"
"Could be. We never knew how many they sent in, just how many we killed. Poor kid."
"And naturally you're blaming yourself."
Valentine left that alone. "I did dig you up for a reason," he said. "I need your help. How would you like a change of duty?"
She brightened visibly. "The Bears? I know Lieutenant Nail's hurt again-"
"Sorry. Hanson isn't confident in his ability to run the battery. I want to put you in charge of it."
Styachowski pursed her lips. "I only know mortars."
"But you know the theory, right?"
"Of course."
"You've done everything I've asked you. You can do this, too. Those guns have to be kept good and lethal. They're the reason the Quislings are all corked up."
