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“Send some kid on the errand. Send Clay—he deserves a treat after running his ass off. Some vodka and a bedspring bounce with a Swedish gal sounds about right.”
“Val’s been in to see me a couple of times, Smoke,” Lambert said. Usually only fellow Cats would call her by her old code name, but Lambert had been her CO back when they both were on the other side of the Mississippi and Lambert was overseeing special operations outside of the usual Southern Command areas. Duvalier decided she was using it here to make the conversation less formal, old soldier to old soldier. “About you.”
Now, why would she name Valentine? Strange for such a squared-away officer. She wasn’t surprised that Valentine had been quietly nudging the colonel about her
, but why give him away? To irritate her into something? Did she know she was touching a sore but private spot? “Asking permission for my hand in marriage?”
Lambert looked puzzled at the jibe. “No. Actually, he’s worried about your health. He thinks you need a long rest.”
Always thinks he knows me better than anyone. “Don’t we all?” Duvalier said.
“I can’t exactly order you to stand down. Cats aren’t like Wolves and Bears—you’re neither fish nor fowl, not combat or support. I’m specifically required to aid you logistically and with combat support at discretion, so you’ve got the upper hand with me. By the book, as the Fort Commander I can order you to keep out of certain buildings, or turn in your weapons, or see the doctor, or keep off the friggin’ grass. As Zone Commander, Southern Command, I can ask a Cat to do something, and if I really press my authority, I can issue a written set of orders limiting your interaction with the locals or sending you packing out of the Kentucky area of operations entirely. I can court-martial you for a crime. What I can’t do is order you to put your feet up for a couple of weeks. Only a doctor can do that. I think.”
Duvalier was a little shocked. That last sentence indicated Lambert was unsure about some element of regulations.
“I’d say Major Valentine needs the rest more than I do,” she said. “He does three or four ops for every time I go out.”
“Those are mostly patrols and training runs. You put in serious time in the KZ. You’re due for a vacation from all that.”
“Still, he looks ragged as hell lately. He’s been killing himself getting everyone organized. No one’s ever tried to integrate Grogs and Bear teams before. It’s not working real well. I can’t decide if it’ll be a heart attack or a nervous breakdown.”
Lambert smiled. “You exaggerated. I’m a pretty good judge of human machinery and, without the hyperbole, I’m of a like opinion. I’m going to see if I can’t get both of you away from the bullets for a while. You both deserve a holiday.” She reached out and patted Duvalier on the hand.
Duvalier was shocked at the physical contact. It felt as unnatural from Lambert as a blow job scene in one of those Jane Austen naturals that Val secretly read.
“What we’re about to discuss is classified at the highest level. So, usual discretion.”
“I’ve never had trouble keeping secrets. I bet I’m better than you at it.”
Colonel Lambert gave her a look that was at once both friendly and a glare. “Don’t be so sure.”
“But back to my way to kill three Reapers with one stake. There’s an all-freehold conference to take place in a couple months. I can’t tell you where—nobody’s told me that yet, even—other than that it’s on the other side of the Atlantic, in one of the Baltic League freeholds. Kentucky, as the newest freehold east of the Mississippi, is invited to attend, of course. The problem is the Kentucky delegation doesn’t have the ability to travel thousands of miles across the ocean, so they asked if they could travel with Southern Command’s group. Southern Command and the Ozark Free Republic agreed, which I find curious because we’ve always been the proverbial redheaded (beg your pardon) stepchild. There’s to be one delegate per freehold, and the delegate is allowed to bring up to two assistants and two security guards for travel. I intend to have you and Valentine as the security. Think you could convince him to join you? The trip won’t be easy, but it shouldn’t be dangerous beyond the typical risks of long-distance travel. Might be a pleasant change of scenery.”
She sighed. As if she had any leverage over Val. But she could offer some insight. “He won’t accept. He’s convinced the Georgia Control is going to hit us with everything they have, and soon.”
“Well, the Georgia Control seems to have gone quiet. In fact, it’s been the most peaceful summer worldwide in the history of the Resistance. What do you think of that?”
“Maybe the Kurians are having a conference, too, to figure out what to do with us. Why a security detail?”
“It’s a long trip. Southern Command has made arrangements through the Resistance network for transport up to Halifax. You’ll take a boat over.”
“Arrangements—Halifax? That’s way at the eastern tip of Canada, right? Just getting there would be the farthest I’ve ever been, anywhere.”
“You’ll still have a long way to go after that. That’s why I like you and Valentine for the job. Hopefully you’ll spend most of your time sleeping in transport. The conference itself has its own security, so once you’re there you should—should—be able to relax.”
“You’ve no idea where it is?”
“It’s certainly going to be one of the north-shore Baltic league states. Norway, Sweden, or Finland, probably toward the north. Kurians shy away from cold climates.”
“Except in summer, and it’ll be summer by the time we get there, I’ll bet.”
“Maybe you’ll see the midnight sun. That would interfere with the Kurians, too. They’d lose all kinds of distance on their Reapers.”
“They don’t need Reapers to kill a bunch of people. They have Grogs, a big bomb, commandos… .”
“They’ve never managed to hit a conference before. Anyway, that note indicates that the agent or agents is just going to gather information. That’s probably more useful to them than killing a bunch of overfed delegates.”
She was almost looking forward to it. Of course, the last time she’d been promised a long, easy trip, she’d wound up sweltering on the Gulf Coast posing as Valentine’s wife, and had returned home in the middle of Solon’s takeover of the old Ozark Free Territory. Valentine had been briefed with her and received the same assurances. He wouldn’t care to hear them again. “One problem, though. Valentine. He’d never agree to go. So unless you give Ahn-Kha and me orders to tie him up, stick him in a diplomatic bag, and label it ‘Kentucky Delegation,’ your security detail won’t have a full complement.”
