"He's awful free with that word," the Bear called Rain muttered.
"Try to get our guns. We'll walk out over-" Nail began.
"Wait, Lieutenant," Valentine said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Nobody gets killed, that's good enough."
"Is this a surrender, my David?" Ahn-Kha asked in his ear.
"A tactical retreat, old horse," he said. Then louder: "You have it, Martinez. We walk out with just our possessions. Now let Captain Styachowski go. We'll be gone in twenty-four hours."
* * * *
"This looks like a conference of war," Finner said the next day, as Ahn-Kha opened the tent flap. Styachowski, Post, Nail and, strangely enough, Colonel Meadows all sat around a folding camp table spread with maps.
"An informal one. Jess, they tell me you know the mountains east of here better than anyone. What are our chances of getting seven hundred people to the Arkansas River without using any Kurian-patrolled roads?"
"I don't see anyone smiling, so I guess this isn't a practical joke. Seven hundred?"
"That's what the numbers packing up look like," Colonel Meadows said. "Some are good soldiers, sick of hiding in the hills. Some are afraid that the General's gone loco." Meadows tapped his chest with the hand missing the fingers for emphasis.
"Styachowski says the hills are our only hope for moving that many without being noticed," Valentine added. "The Quislings stay out of the mountains because of those feral Reapers, except for big truck patrols. We'd hear those coming."
Finner looked at the maps. One, covered with a sheet of clear plastic, had a cryptic mark over where Valentine's refugees had been camping when the General added them to his command. "I was coming here to tell you that we've got two platoons of Wolves ready to go out with us. With them screening we might be able to do it. The lifesign will be horrendous. We'll draw trouble like a nightlight does bugs."
"And we'll be short, very short, on weapons," Post said. "It makes the route even more critical."
"How are you going to feed everyone, sir?" Finner asked.
"Working on it," Meadows said, with a glance at Styachowski. She looked tired.
"That's been most of the conversation. We'll take livestock. Like the myriads out of Egypt, we'll go with our flocks," Valentine said.
"What happens at the Arkansas? The river's watched and patrolled. I'd have trouble getting across with a platoon."
"Just get us there, Lieutenant," Valentine said.
"Sergeant, sir."
"You're going to be in charge of two platoons of Wolves. That's a lieutenant's command," Meadows said.
Firmer looked nonplussed. "Any chance of turning down this promotion?"
"We get back to Southern Command, and I'll fill out the rank reduction paperwork myself," Valentine promised. "Let's give Finner some time alone with the maps."
"Don't need 'em, sir," the new lieutenant said.
"You'll at least need to know where we're starting. First waypoint is the old campsite where we dumped that load of lumber."
* * * *
"Captain Styachowski, a word," Valentine said as they left the tent.
"Yes, Captain?"
"You still have friends on the old intelligence staff?"
"Staff? Friends? I had one nearsighted military analyst. She's coming with us; she doesn't like this moonshine brewery any more than I."
"I need everything you have on enemy organization on the Arkansas River."