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That simplified matters. Valentine had a hard time feeling much sympathy for the fish-frogs. At the first sign of injury to a fellow, the others ate it. A military operation deep behind the opposing lines became a good deal more practicable if one didn't have to worry about returning the troops.
"We've got to think about our getting back. I say we go downstream on the Green River...".
On Troyd's recommendation they added a third officer to the team in case illness or injury removed Valentine or Burlington. Holly Nageezi, a tight little bundle of muscle who never seemed to feel the chill of the sound, had been an athlete for, of all things, a women's Roller Derby team. She'd been away from her quad on a night when
one of the Action Groups hit, slaughtering every neighbor and friend she had.
Bad luck struck just before the jump-off. They lost three Big Mouths from the ones trained to go into the mock Outlook, when on a trial run in, Valentine forgot and pulled his flare pistol too early as they approached. The BMs became, in Troyd's words, "idgitated", and started attacking one another when he didn't release them right away.
Valentine talked with Burlington about replacing them with Big Mouths from the pool. "Fresh ones would probably just do what all the others do. I think it would be safe to bring them".
"But these have gotten used to going a couple days without feeding. Maybe inexperienced isn't the way to go. They might lead the others astray".
In the end, after talking it over with Troyd, Valentine made the decision to go with just the twenty-seven.
Then Burlington deserted on a dark, late January night, three days before the new-moon weekend. Nobody could say how he had slipped away.
He left a note. Troyd showed it to Valentine but kept it a secret from Nageezi. Burlington had suggested that the whole operation was a one-way trip for the human handlers as well as the Grogs.
Troyd and Valentine informed Nageezi of her rise to second-in-command and she seemed oddly pleased. "Doing's easy. Having someone notice, that's difficult", she said.
They inspected the gear together at a vacant Tacoma dockside warehouse that served as their jumping-off point, and saw that their team of twenty-seven BMs had a heavy breakfast of sheep-with-hooves-removed. Valentine had his carbine, a silenced .22 automatic he'd picked up at the downtown armory, and a heavy diving knife with a built-in wire snip, sharp enough to cut the leather leads between his kayak and the Big Mouths in case of trouble. He oiled everything and placed the guns in waterproof bags.
"Nap?" Nageezi said as the hours counted down to when the
trucks would be loaded. She pulled her silenced .45 out of its holster and patted a spot next to her. "We're going to be doing it in the field".
"So get used to it now".
They nodded against each other, but it seemed to Valentine that neither really slept.
Loading the Big Mouths into their covered livestock trucks was comforting in its routine, indistinguishable from the dozens of times they'd done it on long training runs. Valentine rode in the first truck with a pair of experienced drivers, Nageezi in the second. A third truck followed, there in case of mechanical failure, carrying one more meal for the Big Mouths in the form of a heap of dead, mangy dogs. Valentine watched the soldiers in the guard truck sway along - for all the drivers and the guards knew, this was just another training run.
The weather turned nasty at the riverbank, a cold, lashing rain that turned everything dark three hours ahead of schedule. It came down hard enough that Valentine thought it would blow itself out quickly. The Big Mouths hopped into the river eagerly enough.
The drivers of the third truck, anxious at the sight of the snapping jaws, refused to toss the dogs to the waiting Big Mouths until Nageezi drew her automatic and promised the fish-frogs dog or driver.
And with that they were off.
The rain alternating with snow lightened up but never really ceased. It didn't make much difference on the longest river run, that first night. They waited out the day in a backwater of the river, with the Big Mouths either resting or probing the riverbanks for small game arid waterfowl.
The first overland trek, almost six miles, went well enough. Valentine and Nageezi hiked what felt mostly uphill on a heavy portage through the woods, following in a trail flattened by the prowling Big Mouths with fiberglass kayak, paddle, and equipment. Anything that didn't involve buckets of ice-cold water being flung in his face seemed like a treat.
He and Nageezi huddled together in the snow as they rested the
second day, eating preserved food - appallingly small portions according to Valentine's cold-sharpened appetite - the green and white mountains of the Cascades around them. They warmed their food over chemical heat and pressed close together under a thin survival blanket, recuperating.
The second night's run was a long, churning nightmare of white water as they were pulled by the strong swimming - or hopping, over some of the rapids - upstream. Nageezi had the knack of resting herself and her team in the occasional eddy better than Valentine, and by the time they went back into the water, with fresh chemical heat packs pressed to their feet and the small of their backs, he let Nageezi lead.
The rotten weather carried one advantage: It made observation from the banks almost impossible.
They waited out the third day at a lake on the Green River, with the Big Mouths philosophical about their empty bellies. They'd been trained to have a real gorge after penetrating the fake hotel built up in the airport on the third night...
For the final night's run Nageezi took amphetamines. She offered a pair of white capsules to Valentine.
"Benzedrine?"
"I'm okay", he said.
