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The assembly was mostly officers, with a smattering of senior sergeants and neatly dressed civilians seated with the big bugs.
The chair with name "Lambert" taped to it stood empty, as did the one next to it with no name on it. Lambert was present; Valentine had seen her in the hangar office with some other uniforms. She was the closest thing he had to a commander in his ill-defined, ill-starred relationship with Southern Command.
Valentine also recognized one civilian to the other side of Lehman, a well-dressed fixer named Sime. At this distance Valentine couldn't tell if he still used that rich sandalwood soap or not. Valentine had last smelled it when Sime came to visit him in prison, when he was offered up as a sacrificial lamb to doubtful Kansas officials who were considering switching sides and feared reprisals. The Kansas uprising hadn't gone as well as most hoped: The Kurians brought an army all the way from Michigan across the Mississippi and Missouri rivers and smashed most the rebellious territories before Southern Command could get there.
Sime ignored him. Valentine, skin crawling as though trying to make a discreet exit, doubted it was out of embarrassment.
Lambert and her group arrived. A man on the hard side of middle age with a loose-skinned face that reminded Valentine of a woeful hound stood next to her at the unmarked chair. He wore a plainly cut black coat, trousers, and leather shoes that made him look like either a Mennonite or a backwoods undertaker. Valentine wondered if he was a Lifeweaver, relatives to the Kurians and mankind's most powerful allies in the war against the Kurians.
"Be seated," Lehman said. Lehman tightened his words before shooting them out of his mouth in little explosions of air, making his mustache ripple like a prodded caterpillar.
Valentine's relationship to the uncomfortable metal chair began well enough. He was glad to sit. Metallic creeks echoed in the empty hangar.
Lehman remained on his feet: "We're present at a historic moment. You've been brought together for an important campaign. What we have come here to plan is no ordinary op. A new Freehold is about to be born. You will all be midwives." The general unbent a little.
"Let's just hope it's a live birth.
"Some of you have heard rumors of Highbeam being a move against New Orleans. That's still what it is as far as the various people in your commands who are going to help you organize the men and material are to think. I expect you all to go to sleep every night with a Creole phrasebook next to your bed and maps of swamps and bayous piled on your desk.
"Our true objective is an area in the Appalachians. Some of you may have heard what's happening in West Virginia and eastern Kentucky. A coal miners' revolt has grown into a thriving resistance. Usually uprisings like this are stamped out in a few months, but the fellows running the show there vanish every time the Kurians think they have them trapped.
They've got popular support and friends on both sides of the mountains.
"We're going to cross the Mississippi and Kentucky in reinforced brigade strength and offer assistance."
He let that sink in.
Valentine's felt a momentary loss of balance. He'd been working out a route of march but had only a couple companies of Wolves and perhaps a contingent of training and technical units in mind when he presented his ideas to Lambert.
Lehman gestured to the big bugs behind him. "And that's it for me. I'm just here to sign and seal the op orders. You all are going to do the planning over the next two weeks. With forty of us I think we can get a little softball going on Wednesdays and Saturdays. I'll handle the rosters and decide who'll be playing and who'll be grilling and baking when. Unless you vote on basketball, that is. My headquarters, barring contingencies, will be located at the old motel just across the road. I've given most of my staff furlough or dispersed them for training. I'll try to get the pool filled so you can use it, if you like. Drop by if you want to sample the liquor and tobacco a general gets."
Valentine's heart warmed at that. It wasn't often you met a general who knew when to get out of the way.
Lambert took over the rest of the welcome briefing. She introduced the big bugs and allowed the other three sides of the squares to present themselves. Valentine was most interested in the first man introduced: Colonel Seng, who would be overall command of the expeditionary brigade. Seng had a flat face; indeed, he looked as though he'd spent some time using it as a battering ram, as it was heavily pocked and built around a big, pursed mouth suggesting he'd been tasting vinegar. After each introduction, Seng's chin dropped and he shifted his eyes to a blank space between his knees.
Seng had a lot to think about. A full regiment of two battalions of Guard regulars would be his responsibility, each with organic light artillery, plus a support battalion with more artillery and anti-armor-or anti-Reaper-weapons. Of course the men and gear couldn't travel without commissary, transport, and medical companies. Another smaller ad-hoc regiment included a full company of Wolves, three Bear teams under the sleeveless lieutenant, and logistics commandos- the scroungers. Seng's headquarters would have engineers, signals, and intelligence staff, and even a meteorologist and an agronomist.
Valentine hoped he had a good chief of staff.
When it came time for Valentine to introduce himself, Lambert nodded at him, giving him the go-ahead to use his real name. Valentine just stood and said: "David Valentine. Last held the rank of major, Hunters and Special Operations."
"I was wondering what a militia corporal was doing here," a civilian sitting next to Sime murmured, showing off the fact that she could read shoulder tabs and stripes. Sime didn't seem to hear her; he was busy refolding his handkerchief.
Some of the regular officers took another look at Valentine. For once, Seng didn't look down. Valentine nodded to Seng as he sat. The chair squeaked and the colonel returned his gaze to that spot between his knees.
"He's attached to my Special Operations Directory," Lambert said.
"Knew he was a SOD," someone in the regulars muttered.
Lambert moved on, beckoning to the woman next to Valentine, a captain with training and indoctrination who smelled faintly of boiled vegetables and butter.
Only one face hadn't been introduced, the person Valentine suspected was a Lifeweaver. If so, he-she-it? was an extraordinary specimen. In Valentine's limited experience they never mixed with so many humans at one time. He suspected they found all the thoughts and moods stressful, or perhaps frightening. The human imagination sometimes wandered into rather dark and nasty corners when not otherwise engaged.
"You've probably all noticed that I skipped someone," Lambert said, stepping forward again to give voice to Valentine's thoughts. "Brother Mark is an expert on the Kurian Zone.
He's former New Universal Church with the rank of elector, I believe. He's serving as liaison between Southern Command and the rebels."
Valentine received his second shock of the meeting. An elector was a senior priest with voting privileges that allowed them to set Church policy-for all intents and purposes a bishop, though they were technically below bishops and the all-powerful archons. Most Quislings were expected to obey orders from the Kurians. Churchmen were trained from childhood to love doing so.
