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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.
"He's also been prominent in the Kurian Order longer than I've been alive."
The sorrowful spaniel in black rose.
"I'm not sure the guerrillas rate a term like 'army' from such professionals," Brother Mark said. "May I call them partisans without offending anyone? Good. The partisan army in the Virginias-Kentucky borderland triangle isn't like the military as you understand it. It is a small cadre of leaders who go from place to place, where they temporarily swell their numbers in order to destroy a specific objective, be it a mine or a tunnel or a garrison house.
With the job done the guerrillas return to their homes and remove and telltales of their participation. Still with me?"
Valentine could tell from the exchanged glances and squeaking shifts in weight the officers were uncomfortable being addressed by a churchman. Or maybe it was the patronizing tone.
"There's a potential in that part of the country for a true Freehold. With regular soldiers such as yourselves to handle external threats, the populace could organize its own defense on a county-by-county basis. I'd say the population is six-to-one in favor of the guerrillas, though they've seen enough reprisals to be chary of rising up en masse. Not the best specimens in that part of the country, either physical or mental."
He paused again to let his gaze rove over the room. He settled his stare on Captain Moytana, who had the thumb of his fist pressed to his mouth as if to keep his lips from opening.
"Yes, we all know what happened when a rising like this was attempted in Kansas. Unlike Kansas, we already have local fighters in place who've lost their fear of the Kurians. This time the rising won't take place until your forces arrive and are integrated with the locals."
Lambert spoke again: "It's not Kansas. The Kurians are holding on to their mines by their fingernails. A couple strikes on key Kurian held centers, destruction of the local constabulary, and a few Reapers burned out of their basement lairs would greatly further the Cause in North America."
A hand went up, and Lambert nodded.
"That's awfully near Washington," a lieutenant colonel named Jolla with the big bugs said.
He was perhaps the oldest man at the briefing other than General Lehman. Campaign ribbons under his name lay in neat rows like a brick wall. "They're tender about that, what with all those Church academies and colleges and such. The Kurians in New York and Philly and Pits would unite."
"The Green Mountains are just as close," Lambert said. "There's a Freehold there. Smaller than ours, but they're managing."
"Can we count on them to take some of the heat off?" a youngish Guard major named Bloom asked.
"You won't be alone," Brother Mark said. "God sees to that."
Valentine glanced around the assembly. Some eyes were rolling, expecting a mossbacked homily.
"You'll have a friends to the west," Brother Mark said. "The guerrillas are getting help from some of the legworm ranchers in Kentucky. About four years ago the Ordnance-that's the political organization north of the Ohio, for those of you unfamiliar with the area ... as I said, the legworm ranchers have grown restive, especially since the Ordnance began conducting raids into their territory, coming after deserters and guerrillas."
Valentine, who had fled into Kentucky from the Ordnance as something between a guerrilla and a deserter, could tell the assembly didn't like their renegade churchman. The officers were keeping their faces too blank when they listened.
"Some of the troops won't like it," a Guard captain said. "That's a long way from home."
"Their forefathers went ten times as far against lesser evils," Brother Mark said.
This time General Lehman came to his rescue. "Tell 'em what the gals in Kentucky look like, brought up on milk and legworm barbecue. You know that area, Valentine."
"They're pretty enough. Tough too," Valentine said, thinking of Tikka from the Bulletproof.
"All that time in the saddle. The backhill bourbon's smooth. Everybody and his cousin has a recipe. Some of the older ones will want to allot out and become whiskey barons."
"Whiskey barons," someone chuckled. "They'll like the sound of that."
* * * *
