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"No. I should get back to Post and Meadows."
"You know, sir, we've got enough men to empty this joint. Lots of stuff here we could use. 0l' Frum could say his headquarters got attacked unexpectedly."
"The sergeant's worked hard on his setup. I don't want to give the Kurians a reason to replace him."
"Still like to see Bullfrog taken down a notch. He's been the biggest buck of these woods too long; thinks he makes right and wrong. I don't like making war on civilians, ours or theirs."
Valentine felt a better warmth at those words. He saw a crack of light from Frum's locked-off door. "Neither do I. Follow me, would you?"
Valentine traced a line with his index finger under the the joke is on us graffiti as he left. He nodded at one of Bullfrog's guerillas, dripping wet with a towel around his waist as he came back from the improvised bath-Bullfrog had turned an old janitorial closet into a one-man shower-and followed his ears to the canteen, where Bullfrog was shooting the breeze with Finner about the last few months.
"Troop trains heading back south and west lately," Valentine heard as he approached. "Borrowed troops heading home with boxcars of booty and prisoners. As long as the Night Watch keeps out of Little Rock and away from the lines, these hills stay quiet. If I touch the railroads I get a flying regiment sent-"
"Bullfrog, I'm taking over," Valentine said, cutting off the storytelling.
Bullfrog had one leg up on the table, the worn waffle pattern in the boot turned toward him, like a religious icon shifted to ward off evil.
"Taking over what?"
Valentine's heart tripped when he saw Bullfrog's hand fall to his holster.
Valentine stuck his thumbs in his belt. "Your unit. They'll be taking orders from me, until I depart."
"Doubt it. They answer to me."
"Never said otherwise. I outrank you. I'll give the orders to you, then you'll amplify, organize and carry out. Way it always worked in Southern Command."
Bullfrog sighed. "That again. I told you before, I don't-"
"You will, or I'll knock you into next week."
The sergeant stood up. Valentine's leveled stare hit Bullfrog just below the collarbone. "You think you can whip me?"
"If you won't take my word for it."
"If you're dead set on an ass-kicking, I'll oblige, Valentine."
"You've been around the Kurians too long. You're not the local demigod. Time to put you back in the chain of command, since you can't handle the responsibility." Bullfrog turned an intriguing shade of purple, took a breath- "I'm going to use these stores. And another thing. I won't stand for any more reprisals against civilians," Valentine finished, delaying whatever was coming.
Bullfrog's rapid-fire laughter filled the mess room and echoed like a string of firecrackers going off: heh-ha-heh-ha-heh-ha. "I fight with my fists, not paper."
"That's your prerogative. I'm not filing a Jagger complaint."
* * * *
Bullfrog wasted no time. He led Valentine outside. Word passed around among the men via the mysterious network that exists in any organization, always faster and more effective than any communications flowchart. As they walked out the thick steel door and up the stairs, everyone from Nail's Bears to Bullfrog's own headquarters staff followed.
Valentine took off his tunic as he exited the plant-cluttered office building. The cool air felt good as it licked across his hot ears. The sky had become overcast again; the late-winter rains looked to be building again. Meadows, guided by a pair of Wolves, was crossing the parking lot.
"Valentine," Meadows hallooed. "Since we're resting I wanted to-"
"Sorry, sir, busy," Valentine said.
Meadows' forehead wrinkled as Bullfrog removed his own jacket. "That you, Fa-no, Frum. Sergeant Frum?"
"Colonel Meadows," Bullfrog said, not bothering to salute.
"What's all this?" Meadows turned in a circle as he looked at the mixed contingent of men, some throwing suspenders over their shoulders or still pulling on boots as they emerged from the office building.
