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"Well, it's better than subhuman," Valentine said. "I've met a few civilians who'd use that word."
He decided to change the subject.
"When did Styachowski and Post get so close? During the fight at Big Rock Hill?"
"You mean Valentine's Stand?"
"The history books don't call it that."
"She knew him from that, obviously. She met him again when he was assigned to the assessment staff. He gave a very thorough report, and . . . Moira said she had a thing for the older, fatherly-looking guys. I was a little surprised: She never said anything about an interest-Well, that's neither here nor there. But I understand the appeal. He is good-looking. I got to know Post better through her. He told me some interesting details about life in camp with General Martinez, by the way. He knew Moira and I had been close and he said he wanted me to have her gun the last time we-I mean, the last time we met."
Valentine didn't know the extent of Post's injuries that confined him to his chair, didn't know how his marriage had been put back together or under what terms. None of his business.
Lambert was blushing. Valentine couldn't ever remember seeing her blush before.
"Does Gail know . . . about Will's connection with Jenny's real mother?"
"No. Moira said they ended it after you brought Gail back. It took them a while to figure out who each of them was and who the other was in the marriage. Will told me Gail had changed a lot out there, through her experiences. But he was determined to take care of her."
Valentine decided to pry. "Who's Jenny's father?"
"I-I . . . Moira said it was a man she met after the Razors broke up."
"None of my business. I wonder if Jenny's got a little Bear in her-or a lot. Some of the Bears get very randy after a fight."
"I've heard that," Lambert said.
"Whatever Moira had in her blood might have been passed to her daughter."
Lambert opened a little gear bag and began to clean the submachine gun. Valentine did the same with his rifle.
"But Bear parents don't always pass on their tendencies, I'm told," Lambert said. "Sometimes the kid's just a little feistier than most or heals bumps and bruises faster. Also, she's a girl. Don't female Bear fetuses miscarry?"
"I was told that it's adult women who tend to have heart attacks or strokes when the Lifeweavers try to turn them Bear," Valentine said. "I don't know about the children."
"Southern Command is still doing that breeding program. Because there are so few Lifeweavers."
Valentine nodded. He'd been part of that breeding program. Strange stuff. "I haven't spoken to one in ages."
"Knowingly, anyway. They're operating in secret these days, with so many Kurian agents around."
Boat trips leave you a lot of time to think. As Valentine played with his new rifle's butt and balance, trying to decide if he should add another inch to the butt, he thought about his friend.
Old Will. Well, not that old; he had a decade on Valentine at most, whatever his personnel file said. In the Kurian Zone you always falsified your birth date whenever you had the chance. Valentine pictured Styachowski running her quick fingers through Post's salt-and-pepper hair. So there was some hot blood beneath that cool countenance.
"Patrol boat signaling to board," the ship's speaker announced, breaking in on his thoughts.
Mantilla had warned all of them to expect this. The Southern Command soldiers were to go down and wait in the engine room.
Valentine filed down behind the rest of the hatchet men, new rifle and an ammunition vest ready-just in case.
Lambert hurried to catch up to him. "Mantilla wants us ready to go up top. He says he doesn't know this patrol boat. There may be a problem."
Valentine wished there was time to go forward into the cargo barge and get some of the explosives. No time.
He warned the young doctor and the old nurse to be ready, just in case, and had the hatchet men arm themselves and wait in the engine room. Orders given, he went up to the cabin deck just under the bridge. The portholes were a good size for shooting.
Valentine took a look at the patrol boat. Valentine didn't see the usual blue-white streamer of the Mississippi's river patrol, so he suspected it was from one of the Kurian towns. Maybe they were in search of bribes. But the craft had official-looking lights. It was a low, boxy craft and looked like it had a crew of three-sort of a brown-water tow truck.
