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"Two weeks on short. That's not enough to get us home. At least not intact," Bloom said.
She sounded beaten.
"So that's it, then," Valentine said. "We can't go on. Not without food."
Brother Mark shook his head. "That's what they count on, my son. Despair. A victory comes so much easier when you are the one defeating yourself."
"An army marches on its stomach," Moytana said. "What do you propose to fill my men's bellies with?"
"They must march on hope."
"That's not much butter to put on a long slice of bread," Moytana observed.
* * * *
The next day they woke to harassing gunfire from far-off batteries of the Moondaggers. The shots weren't being observed; they were falling wide by a half mile or more and not being corrected. But it unnerved the men, made them jumpy and scattered the way a coming thunderstorm puts rabbits underground.
Valentine gave orders to put a reserve on alert and hurried to the headquarters to find a medical truck parked there and his staff silent and nervous. Even Red Dog panted and crisscrossed from man to man, seeking reassurance.
"Colonel Jolla's dead, sir," the staff agronomist reported.
"Who can tell me what happened?"
"It's like this, sir," Tiddle, the headquarters courier, said. "I had the communications duty.
Colonel Jolla came up to the rig and looked at the latest communications. Everyone was talking about the worm riders quitting on us.
"Well, sir, he didn't say much. Just stared-didn't seem to be reading the communiques at all. Colonel Bloom arrived with a report about some civilian bodies we found. She was just telling him that they were trying to bring us food. Oh, Colonel Jolla wasn't really paying attention to what she was saying. He just sort of nodded. Looked like his mind was elsewhere, like he was having a phone conversation or something."
Tiddle looked miserable, the White Rabbit stilled for once. Valentine saw a bagged bundle resting in the back of the truck.
"Well, then we heard some artillery fire in the distance, the usual calling cards from the Moondaggers to let us know they're back there, and Colonel Jolla just sort of went white. He reached for his service pistol and started to bring it up to his head. Bloom grabbed for it and they started wrestling. She said, for God's sake, help me,' and then we heard the shot. We were moving toward Colonel Jolla but he was too fast for us. He put the barrel in his mouth and pulled the trigger. Awful mess, sir-" Tiddle pointed at the front fender of the jeep, and Valentine saw caked blood in the crevices.
"How's Colonel Boom?" Valentine asked, calming Red Dog and himself by flapping the dog's ears.
"Shaken up. She's in command now."
Valentine sought out Bloom. The usually quick and decisive Bloom seemed suddenly doubtful, but it might be the flecks of blood still on her cuff and shoulder. Red Dog approached her cautiously, sniffing.
"We could try taking a crack at the Moondaggers, sir," Valentine suggested. "We might get the confidence of the worm clans back if we prove ourselves against them."
For a moment her eyes flared.
"Hmmmm. I don't know, Valentine. Southern Command doesn't want another Kansas on their hands, you know. I'm under orders to keep the brigade intact."
They'd continue the retreat.
* * * *
Two days later Brother Mark returned from the Kentucky Alliance camp.
"They're quitting on us," he said. "That Last Chance arranged a secret meeting with some of their leadership. Wildcats are packing up. Some of the Gunslingers are leaving, going to start a new clan. Even the Bulletproof and Mammoth are hedging their bets, sending some riders back to reinforce their main camp. All we have left are the attenuated what's left of those two and the Coonskins."
He reached into his battered courier bag, brought up a black-labeled bottle. "They gave me a farewell gift. Were it were hemlock."
"You've done your best," Valentine said, waving the others off. He sat Brother Mark down in the chair farthest from the communications desk, and the rest of the headquarters officers gave them a wide berth. Being the CO's chief of staff offered a few privileges.
Brother Mark looked thoughtful, took a pull at the bourbon.
