"She and I..."
Tok tok, his tongue sounded. "Something warm to come home to?"
"More like mutual affinity".
"Better check the true-love meter again. She sounds eager to serve, with or without you. If you want a slice of something juicy, Delta Group gets their pick, believe me. Tell you what, I'll get her posted near our operations HQ. She'd just be a short walk away. Fair enough?"
"More than", Valentine said, wondering why his stomach was going sour.
He picked up the phone. "See you on the other side of the mountains, Valentine".
Fort Grizzly, overlooking the outer suburbs of Seattle, Washington: The men call it either "Fort Gristle" or "Fort Drizzly" depending on whether the barrack-room conversation revolves around the food or the weather. Valentine was seeing the Seattle basin in its finest month.
Grizzly is settled on the east-facing slope of a ridge, at an old mine and quarry complex with a network of tunnels dug as though designed to be confusing - which it was. The "rabbit warren" underground works of Fort Grizzly serves as armory, bomb shelter, garage, and warehouse, and, most importantly, staging area for operations against Seattle.
Mining equipment chatters away all day, slowly expanding the works, serving as exercise for men with nothing better to do, adding background noise to all conversations except those in the deeper caves. At night blessed silence reigns, broken by the sounds of training, for the Bears of Fort Grizzly operate under the cover of darkness up and down the western slopes of the Cascades, daring the Reapers to face them when their powers are at their height.
Three-foot-high letters at the entrance tunnels exhort and warn: WE DO OR DIE FOR THE FUTURE; ANYONE CAN BE A HERO; WE'LL HAVE THEIR THANKS AFTER THE VICTORY; PEACE IS FOR GRAVEYARDS.
The warren is surprisingly light and airy. Masonry walls exist in many places, cheerfully painted in soft greens and yellows. It's comfortably furnished with items taken from old houses; indeed, in some places it seems more like a furniture showroom than a bunker. There is running water in some of the caverns and electricity in all but the blind alleys and undercuts designed to fool intruders. To reach any of the high-priority caves, one has
to travel through darkness, then approach checkpoints blinded by spotlights. Almost no amount of shelling would do much but close up a few of the entrances, and an assault on the complex would be akin to bearding a horde of grizzlies in their dens.
* * *
"... to never doubt, never surrender, and never relent until our future is our own again", Valentine repeated with Gide, right hand held in the direction of the Stars and Stripes and a totem pole of the faces from assorted monetary denominations that depicted American presidents, left hand next to Gide's atop a black Reaper skull on a wooden pedestal. "I will obey the orders of my lawful superiors until victory, death, or honorable release".
The wording had a tang of blood and iron to Valentine. The oath he'd taken on joining Southern Command, administered very informally by an old Wolf sergeant holding a dog-eared Bible after his first week on the march south from Minnesota, used one similar phrase - "obey the lawful orders of my superiors" - and to Valentine, who turned the words over in his mind afterward, there could be worlds of interpretation separating the two.
He took the oath at Fort Grizzly with Gide, a final sop to their friendship, at the base of the eastern slope of "Grizzly Ridge" with the sun shining above and the pines of the western mountains blue in the sunshine.
"Smallest swearing-in I've ever attended", Thunderbird said, waving a private forward with a black bowling-ball bag for the Reaper skull. "But you're no ordinary recruit". A corporal on Thunderbird's staff named Wilson lit a cigarette and puffed eagerly.
Valentine felt Gide trembling next to him. Didn't Thunderbird recognize that this was an important moment in her life?
"You've done it, Gide", Valentine said. "Congratulations".
"Let's get you both into uniform, now that everything's legal", Thunderbird said. "Recruit Gide, they're expecting you at the fueling depot. You'll get your muster gear there. Get going".
"Salute", Valentine whispered.
"Thank you, sir", she said, saluting. He returned it.
"That entitles you to a drink on me", Valentine said. "Southern Command tradition. I'll call for you as soon as I can".
Tok tok. "This is Pacific Command, Valentine", Thunderbird said. But he smiled as he said it. "But we'll make sure you two keep your date.
"Valentine, let's get you out of that biker getup. Wilson, get Valentine over to the medical center for his capabilities physical, and see if the professor can spare an hour for a quick background lecture".
Valentine shook hands with Gide. She looked brisk and ready for anything, had been quick-witted enough to add the "sir", and she was capable enough. She'd be fine. Why this strange reluctance to let her go?
"My office is K-110, Valentine. The door is always open", Thunderbird said.
Wilson finished his cigarette with a long drag, stubbed the bright red remains out in his palm, and pocketed it. "No smoking in the warren".
"Doesn't that hurt?" Valentine said as he followed Wilson away.
"If it didn't, it wouldn't be much of a trick", Wilson said. "It'll be healed by tomorrow. Privileges of Bearhood".