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For a moment Valentine thought he was back in the Cascades, where denial of resources had meant grisly strategies involving civilian bodies stacked like cordwood, while Adler carried out his war against Seattle. He envied the men around him for a moment. To them, Lambert's words were just military jargon.
"They'll hit back hard when they figure out what you're doing. But if you can win that fight, it'll put cracks in the foundation of every Kurian tower east of the Mississippi. Remember that. Remember, also, that you're not alone, even in the darkest valley of fear. The people across the Mississippi hate the Kurians just as much as we do; they just don't get a chance to do anything about it. Is Javelin Brigade up for this challenge?"
Variations of "Sir."
"Yes," and fighting yips broke out in the cafeteria.
"Send 'em back to hell," General Lehman said.
With that, the meeting adjourned, though Seng somewhat killed the theatrical mood by announcing a new series of meetings starting before breakfast the next day.
* * * *
The columns marched out of camp in a drizzle. Valentine rode, but he stopped his horse across from the gate to admire the rare sight of Southern Command forces marching in step, swinging their arms in time, rifles over their shoulders.
"Good luck in Louisiana," someone called. Valentine wondered if he was a plant or just a camp civilian employee who'd picked up the rumor that they were heading south.
The general's color guard was present for the occasion. The pipes and drum set up a merry tune. Valentine thought it might be the hoary old sports perennial "Who Let the Bears Out?"-a favorite at basketball games.
"Next stop, New Orleans, Major," Rand called to him as his company wheeled to head south down the highway. He'd been coached to say it, and it sounded forced. Whatever his other strengths, Rand couldn't dissemble.
Valentine nudged his horse forward and took his place in the column at the head of his company. Their strange un-uniforms stood out so they marched at the rear, among the wagons, trucks, cook vans, and pack animals.
"That's a nice mule, mister," a woman's voice called from the crowd as Valentine walked the Morgan on the Maiden road. Valentine recognized the voice.
He searched the crowd.
"Molly!"
It was her. Valentine saw a tan, full-lipped face. Her blond hair shone even in the blustery spring gloom. She'd made an effort with her face and eyes.
He hadn't seen her in four years. The emotional rush almost unseated him from the Morgan.
They'd once been intimate-no, that wasn't fair, they'd once been lovers and passable friends. He'd met her on a long courier mission to the Great Lakes, when her family had helped an injured comrade of his. He'd gotten her family out of the Kurian Zone, and Molly as well, by a near miracle after she'd been arrested for the murder of an important Illinois mouthpiece. She'd become engaged to a Guard while he was in the Wolves.
Edward stood next to her in what Valentine guessed was his only pair of long pants, judging from the state of the knees. His dark, cowlick-filled hair looked like it had waged a morning-long guerrilla war against its combing. How old was he now? Six?
He'd lost his father before he'd been born, in Consul Solon's invasion. Graf Stockard was one of thousands missing in action from the "old" Ozark Free Territory.
Valentine turned his horse and got it out of the way of the marching column. Engines blatted and wheels creaked on by. He dismounted swiftly and Molly gave him a friendly hug.
"What in the world-"
"It's a long story," she said. "We made a special trip to see you off, Edward and I."
Molly had a small cap stuck in the belt of her overcoat. Valentine lifted it and checked the insignia.
"I purchase horses for Southern Command now. Do you remember Captain Valdez from Quapaw? He got me a job as a wrangler for the equine department at Selection and Purchase. I got promoted last year." She patted the Morgan's nose. "I might even have bought your mount.
It's about the right age and from Half-Day Farms."
"Raccoon's a good horse," Valentine said. "I don't understand. You found me through Logistics?"
"Oh, no. I was worried about you, after-after that business where you were . . ."
Her eyes had lines at the edges. But then she spent a lot of time outside. Up close, the blond hair looked a trifle brittle. She hadn't had an easy time of it either, raising a son on her own.
"Arrested," Valentine said, coming back to the road.
