AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"I don't care for spies," Randolph said.
Valentine got the feeling Randolph wanted to see if he could be provoked into another exchange of blows. He reduced lifesign-the old mental technique that also did wonders for his temper.
"I know him, sir," Finner said. "Good man. Wolf officer."
"Disperse, damn you," Randolph said, rounding on the men. "Fight's over. Get some sleep." He turned back to Valentine. "Is that so? We'd better get you to the General, Captain, so he can decide what to do with you. We shoot spies trying to penetrate the camp, you know."
The men helped the brawlers to their feet. Randolph jerked his chin and put his hand on his pistol holster. Valentine walked off in the indicated direction, and the captain drew his gun. He didn't point it at Valentine, but the muzzle could be brought to bear easily enough.
Finner trailed along behind as they walked. Only Valentine had ears good enough to hear him click the safety off inside his rifle sheath.
* * * *
"The General keeps late hours," Randolph said as they approached a vintage twentieth-century house. Lights burned inside and sentries stood on the porch. Where a swing had once stood, piled sandbags and a machine-gun post dominated the parked vehicles in the yard in front of the house. Valentine smelled a barbecue pit in the backyard.
"We've got a LC just in from Texas to see the General," Randolph said to the lieutenant who appeared at the other side of me screen door. "Or so he says."
"I brought him in," Finner added.
"Thank you, Sergeant, that'll be all," Randolph said.
"Let them in, boys," me lieutenant said. He had golden, braided hair and bare arms protruding through a Reaper-cloak vest hung with pistols and hand grenades. Four red diamonds stood out on the meat of his forearm. Valentine suspected he was a Bear. The lieutenant looked Valentine up and down. "I think I've seen your face. Can't place where though."
"Red River raid, sixty-five. You Bears hit the power plant and armory while two companies of Wolves raided some of the plantations. I was the junior in Zulu Company. Never got your name though."
"Nail's the handle. I was in Team Able. We had a hell of a skedaddle out of Louisiana on mat one, as I remember, Captain ...."
"Ghost is what goes down on me paperwork for me," Valentine said.
Nail held out his hand. "Paperwork. That's rich." They shook. "Nice to see you alive, Ghost. Zulu got caught up in a fight on the Mississippi when all mis started. I don't-"
"We can catch up later, Lieutenant," Randoph interjected. "I'm sure me General would like to hear mis man's report. Colorful as the conversation is with all the Hunter code names." He turned to Valentine. "I take it you're a... hmmm ... Cat?"
Valentine said noming.
"Lots of us have family, beg your pardon, sir," Nail said. "It keeps them safe."
Randolph ignored the Bear and waved over an adjutant. Valentine's gaze followed the adjutant into the dining room of the house, where a long table piled with files and a sideboard covered with half-eaten trays of food and liquor bottles stood under dirty walls. Under a candelabra's light a man in red-striped trousers sat, a coat heavy with chicken guts draped over the chair next to him. He had a massive body and a small, balding head on a thin neck; the odd proportions made Valentine think of a turtle. General Martinez rose and threw on his uniform coat.
"Distractions, nothing but distractions," the General grumbled. He had the most perfectly trimmed Van Dyke Valentine had ever seen, as if he made up for the lack of hair on his head with extra attention to that on his face.
"Sorry to add to them, sir," Valentine said. "I'm looking for Southern Command."
"You're talking to a piece of what's left."
"My name is David Valentine, Cat codename Ghost, on independent assignment. I just came out of the KZ in Texas, sir. There wouldn't be a Lifeweaver associated with your command, would there?"
"They've gone to the tall timber, Cat. They're hunted even more than we are."
"I got jumped just across the Red coming out of Texas. I've got close to twenty mouths to feed and have no idea of what to do with them. Fifteen are trained soldiers, including some Grog scout-snipers. The others are refugees."
"Grogs? What unit has Grogs?"
"Thunderbolt Ad Hoc Rifles," Valentine said. It was near enough to the truth and saved explanations.
"Never heard of them. Still armed?"
General Martinez wasn't curious about what he was bringing in from Texas. Which was just as well. Valentine wasn't ready to trust him with his precious Quickwood. While they wouldn't use it to fuel the stills, it wouldn't be used to hunt Reapers, either. "Yes, sir."
