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That got their interest. The shifting and note taking ceased from everyone but Jolla's military secretary.
"We were misinformed-note that I say misinformed, not misled, Brother Mark-as to the support we would receive from the local populace. We've found plans drawn up against us.
The enemy executed a masterful ruse and struck just as we were busy congratulating ourselves on our own cleverness."
The word "masterful" poked at Valentine. He'd just heard it- where? He need to think.
Jolla didn't give him time. "My one hope now is that the Kurians will allow us to leave quietly. God knows, the Kurians prefer carefully controlled bloodshed. They don't like battles any more than we do."
"Sir," Bloom protested.
Jolla held up his hand.
"I've made up my mind. Now there's just a matter of choosing a route and an order of march. We'll need a strong fore guard and an even more capable rear guard if this operation is to succeed."
"There's no doubt that the guerrillas exist," Brother Mark said. "I've seen the reports of the damage they've done. For all we know, they're trying to reach us at this moment."
Jolla frowned. "In view of the situation we find ourselves, perhaps you should leave retrieving the situation to the professionals. I'm sure we'll need your diplomatic expertise on the way home. Perhaps you could turn your thoughts to that."
Brother Mark returned to his chair and put his head down. Valentine saw his lips moving.
Valentine wondered at Jolla's manner. Did men in the midst of some kind of mental breakdown acquire a new vocabulary? The cadence and pronunciation were right, but the words seemed unusually fussy and chosen, as though they'd been preprinted. But the personality, the attitude, was Jolla! Gage would probably have slapped Brother Mark down hard. Seng would have turned a frowning fish stare on him until he withdrew his objection and apologized for intruding onto military matters. Jolla was the same
polite,
go-along-and-get-along self.
Valentine heard two flies turning pirouettes over a tub that held some dirty plates and utensils from the headquarters breakfast. An opportunistic spider was already at work on a web.
How far do your strands extend, Kurian?
"Now, Colonel Bloom will assume command of the regulars and be second in command in the event something happens to me. Valentine, I need a new chief of staff. Can your lieutenant take over your company?"
Valentine turned cold. He could just see the headlines in the Clarion. Scraping the Barrel Bottom: Disgraced, Condemned Ojficer Organized Humiliating Retreat in Appalachian Disaster.
"Rand's a good man, sir. As to me being the new chief. . . perhaps someone already from the headquarters would do better."
Jolla fingered the buttons of his field jacket. "In an hour like this, you're-you're saying no?"
"May we speak for a moment privately, sir?"
Jolla nodded. They both angled for a corner of the tent and spoke with their backs to the rest of the assembly. Valentine heard whispering behind.
"Sir, I don't have anything like the training. I've done my share of reading, but I haven't led military forces since Archangel. I'm a lieutenant who found himself with a major's cluster.
Until Seng gave me his texts, most of the training and experience I had above the platoon level was leading Quisling formations, after a manner."
"You never struck me as the kind to crayfish when responsibility comes your way, Major.
Of course, if you really believe you're not up to the job, I'll select someone else. If I didn't think you were the best man for the job, I wouldn't have selected you."
"Thank you for your confidence, sir. But..." Valentine grasped for the right words but they got lost somewhere between his brain and his larynx.
"I'll add a 'but' of my own. But, well, I need you right now, Valentine. The men like me well enough, but we need another Seng, God rest him, and I don't think liking me's enough.
They need to believe in something. I've never been all faith and vision like Karas, or brilliant like Seng."
"Quiet plodders have won their share of wars, sir," Valentine offered.
