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They'd patched up Valentine as best they could without a surgeon. He'd heal, if he could just eat and drink enough. He still felt light-headed, but he had to help bring order to the camp. The Golden Ones were freed, by Valentine's word as new Stronghold Chieftain, and he'd promised Danger Close that once everyone who wanted to leave did, the headquarters would be his.
But first, he wanted to give the Baron the same chance he'd been given. Now it was his turn to feel the weight of shackles and uncertainty about the future.
"Okay, what happened?" the Baron asked. "How did you turn my army into a Spring Break party?"
Bee had told him that the threat to Snake Arms had also motivated them. She was strong juju, in charge of the spirits who'd died in the Baron's service.
"The Root Beer," Valentine said. "We dumped a case of Kurian aphrodisiacs in it. We weren't sure of the pharmacological effects. By the books, by my beliefs, you're my enemy. I don't feel it in my guts, however. My gut tells me you're a friend."
"A friend?" the Gray Baron said. "Give me a knife, and I'll spill your guts and have a look, see what the problem is."
"I've taken a bullet from you. I wouldn't want to return the experience."
"One thing I know about the Kurians. They're not a forgive-and-forget race. They'll suck the life out of their own mother as soon as she reverts back to being a father, if the parent's dumb enough to let them. I've sent as many of your forces in the field as I can get in touch with off to the west. It's full spring now, and the Grogs in the Missouri Valley will be feeling their oats. How soon before they head north to make a warrior's name for themselves?"
"The way I see it, you have three options. First, I can leave you behind to explain things as best as you can to the Iowans. Second, I can take you prisoner and drop you off with Southern Command. I'll assume they have nothing on you, other than you being a high-ranking Quisling, which will probably mean you'll get a few more appeals before they shoot you. Third, you can come with me."
"Ha!"
"You told me once you liked the taste of real freedom. I don't think you know the meaning of the word. I'm part of a sort of experimental formation that gives Quislings a second chance, if they want it. You choose a new name, swear under it, and serve six years. You can serve more if you want a chance at a pension or a land grant, later. You're a good leader. You'd probably even still be in command of some of your same Grogs. We sure could use a man like you."
"I'm no turncoat. So there's honor involved. You talk about land allotments? Like some patch of Texas scrub can compare with what the Kurians give?"
"What do they give, really?"
"Eternal life. Not some mystical Jesus hoo-ha, either. Life you can see and touch. The churchmen said that if I can pacify Missouri, they'll get me a brass ring and the power to extend my life as long as I like."
"Feeding on your fellow men?"
"There are other ways. No shortage of pigs and dogs. Pigs are more emotionally developed than we think. I met one of their archons, Japanese and Korean guy; he was born in the 1920s and he lives off pigs."
"You think that offer is still open? Suppose I order a couple companies of your Grogs to go burn some towns in Iowa."
"Their officers know better. They'd march right back here to see what was wrong."
"Well, either way, you're coming with us. When we get back to the bootheel country, I'll let you make up your mind-a Southern Command military prison or freedom in Kentucky."
"Bootheel country's a long way off. That's a tough march with all these Grogs."
"We'll manage."
"Now you're the one jerking off, Valentine. You think everyone's just going to settle down, happy? A couple of lambs will go missing, and there'll be bloodshed, and somebody's going to get their head chopped off. Then it's all-out tribal warfare. Just wait and see. You want to build something that'll last, I'd suggest a permanent hierarchy. Humans on top, then the Golden, then the Gray. That's what I was working toward."
"You left out the Kurians."
"I said working toward, Valentine. Till you screwed everything up."
Valentine left the Baron in an evil mood matching his own.
"I have a message for you, sir," the Wolf said. "Repeat from Colonel Lambert at Field HQ."
Valentine read the block pencil letters. The coms tech had lined out the code phrases beginning and ending the message that acted as filler to make decryption more difficult.
GENERAL HEADQUARTERS TO SENG/ LAMBERT THROUGH EASTERN OPERATIONS. PERMISSION FOR GG TRANSPORT AND SUPPLY DENIED. PRESENCE OF NONHUMAN FORCES CONSIDERED DANGEROUS AND PROBLEMATIC FOR CIVILIAN MORALE. RIVERINE ELEMENTS WILL PROVIDE LIMITED SUPPORT FOR TRANSFER TO KENTUCKY. CONGRATULATIONS ON ACTION IN N. MISSOURI-SIGNED MARTINEZ
Valentine wondered if the scrambler chatter at the end was a simple mistake or the headquarters code clerk sending his own secret message.
Anger throbbed, tightening his chest. The general had done it to him again. That bastard. Maybe he knows I'm involved, somehow.
