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"You think these creatures will be useful? Then why do you scowl so when you look at them."
"I was scowling? Well, they make me think about Texas. If I'd only been more careful."
Valentine had been bringing a load of Quickwood back from Haiti, crossing Texas's empty plains. Once back in Southern Command territory he'd let his guard down, only to discover the Ozarks had been overrun by Consul Solon's Transmississippi forces. He'd lost almost all of his precious cargo.
"Is that all? I've never known you to dwell on the past. Talk about it, yes. Learn from it, yes. But not lose yourself in misery over it."
You didn't know me in the years following my court martial, Valentine thought.
"I was with Ahn-Kha when we met them. He was with me on that trip. I've been wondering about him. Ever since that last radio transmission, when they said they were surrounded by the ravies in Virginia."
"You think he's dead?"
"You put it starkly, sir." Valentine brightened. A weight had passed away. "You know, I don't. I feel like he's still alive. But I'm anxious about it, for some reason."
Brother Mark stared levelly into his eyes in the manner of a doctor, as if evaluating the dilation of his pupils. Valentine wondered what he was looking for. "Is this your emotions, hoping against hope, or more of a realization?"
Valentine searched his features for expression, but the usual sad hound eyes revealed nothing beyond sorrow. "Do you know something I don't?"
"In the Church, there were those who became sensitives of one sort or another. I've been told that it's suddenly as though you've known something your whole life. Sister Gretchen is arriving this afternoon; you've always known Gretchen will arrive this afternoon."
Valentine believed in telepathy. He'd had Lifeweavers and Kurians alike, along with their agents, put thoughts in his head. Was someone feeding him information now? An enemy trying to tempt him into rashness? Or was one of nature's better angels planting suggestions, trying to move to come to the rescue of his old friend?
"Give the alert and practice coordinates, Corporal," Valentine told the Wolf of Frat's command he'd brought along to practice the artillery spotting.
The tanned young man studied the map one more time and started to read.
Fire control acknowledged, repeating back the coordinates.
"Communications are still up," Valentine said.
The loaders ran the trenches to the ready magazines.
Valentine looked down and saw confusion at Igraine. A sergeant hurried to the magazine.
"Uh-oh," Father Max said.
The spotter Wolf pushed his headset tighter against his ear.
"Major, Igraine is reporting someone stuck gum in the padlock on the magazine door," the Wolf said.
"What was that you were saying about gum-chewing women?" Valentine asked.
After getting his arm pumped off again congratulating Pellwell, Valentine presented his plan to Colonel Lambert. The mental diversion with the ratbits had allowed the operation to crystallize.
He sat in her office, so neat that the orders and papers and pens all seemed to cower in their allotted places.
Lambert in person was as severe and clean as her desk. She didn't reveal her thoughts, but instead started firing questions. He answered them as best he could, then she moved on to options if the operation failed, and if it succeeded. "Valentine, I could use experienced construction staff, but we're having a hard enough time feeding the soldiers we have. How many more mouths are you planning to add?"
"Thirty or so," Valentine said.
"I'm glad spring's here. Fresh food's starting to flow again."
"I'm sure Evansville could use it," Valentine said. "They can't keep up with the refugees coming down the Ohio. Something awful must be happening in the Ordnance."
"I hear purges," Lambert said. "It might be nice to offer Evansville some tangible assistance. They're going a little wobbly on us."
"What do you mean?" Valentine asked.
