Nail held out his hand. "Paperwork. That's rich." They shook. "Nice to see you alive, Ghost. Zulu got caught up in a fight on the Mississippi when all mis started. I don't-"
"We can catch up later, Lieutenant," Randoph interjected. "I'm sure me General would like to hear mis man's report. Colorful as the conversation is with all the Hunter code names." He turned to Valentine. "I take it you're a... hmmm ... Cat?"
Valentine said noming.
"Lots of us have family, beg your pardon, sir," Nail said. "It keeps them safe."
Randolph ignored the Bear and waved over an adjutant. Valentine's gaze followed the adjutant into the dining room of the house, where a long table piled with files and a sideboard covered with half-eaten trays of food and liquor bottles stood under dirty walls. Under a candelabra's light a man in red-striped trousers sat, a coat heavy with chicken guts draped over the chair next to him. He had a massive body and a small, balding head on a thin neck; the odd proportions made Valentine think of a turtle. General Martinez rose and threw on his uniform coat.
"Distractions, nothing but distractions," the General grumbled. He had the most perfectly trimmed Van Dyke Valentine had ever seen, as if he made up for the lack of hair on his head with extra attention to that on his face.
"Sorry to add to them, sir," Valentine said. "I'm looking for Southern Command."
"You're talking to a piece of what's left."
"My name is David Valentine, Cat codename Ghost, on independent assignment. I just came out of the KZ in Texas, sir. There wouldn't be a Lifeweaver associated with your command, would there?"
"They've gone to the tall timber, Cat. They're hunted even more than we are."
"I got jumped just across the Red coming out of Texas. I've got close to twenty mouths to feed and have no idea of what to do with them. Fifteen are trained soldiers, including some Grog scout-snipers. The others are refugees."
"Grogs? What unit has Grogs?"
"Thunderbolt Ad Hoc Rifles," Valentine said. It was near enough to the truth and saved explanations.
"Never heard of them. Still armed?"
General Martinez wasn't curious about what he was bringing in from Texas. Which was just as well. Valentine wasn't ready to trust him with his precious Quickwood. While they wouldn't use it to fuel the stills, it wouldn't be used to hunt Reapers, either. "Yes, sir."
"You said you came out of Texas?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, Cat, we could have used a little more warning about what was building."
"I was further south. I only got to Texas-"
Martinez cut him off. "You'd be better off back there. Seems like every Gulag gun's here stamping out the embers."
Doesn't just look like a turtle , Valentine thought Snaps like one too. Then he felt guilty for the thought. He'd been operating outside the military hierarchy for too long: his superior deserved his respect.
"Couldn't make it, sir. I've got some horses that need shoes, and my wagon could use a new team. I was hoping to draw from your commissary. Food and clothing and camp equipment would be helpful."
"None of which I can spare just now," General Martinez said. He paused in thought. "Let's have your team here. You can draw rations from the common pool for now. You'll have to lose the civilians. I've got a militia regiment I'm trying to turn into regulars; you and your veterans'd be a help with them."
"We'll keep heading north, sir. Can someone on your staff show me-"
"No, Valentine. I need every man who can shoulder a gun. We're bringing you in, that's an order. You'll be safer with us."
"I'm responsible for the civilians-I gave my word."
"Fine, we'll provide for them for a few days while we sort this out. I could attach them to a labor company, I suppose." He reached up and rubbed his beard with his knuckles, stroking first one side of it, then the other, making him less of a turtle and more of a cat sizing up a cornered mouse. "Randolph, take your light platoon and bring them in. I'm sorry I can't give you more time, Valentine, but other matters demand my attention. We'll talk again tomorrow. You know what to do, Captain Randolph?"
"Yes, sir," Randolph said, saluting and executing a neat about-face.
Faced with a direct order, Valentine could do little but obey. He saluted and left with Randolph. They descended the steps and joined Finner. "I feel like I've just been shanghaied," Valentine said.
Finner grinned, with the schadenfreude of a fox who has lost his tail seeing another fox lose his. "No, you've just been incorporated into the Bitter Enders. What's left they want to make sure stays till the bitter end. They've been shooting deserters."