For a moment Fitz thought that Ariel must have put her head out of his pocket. Then he realized what the man was getting at. “Ah. It’s a system we’ve evolved that works. Men have the stamina, rats the speed.”
“Well, like your crazy idea about paying them, I’m not having any of it,” said the colonel cholerically. “Just see you that get them over the top and that you recapture line two. You’ve got two new second lieutenants fresh out of OCS. See what you can do, Captain Fitzhugh. Put some discipline into this lot.”
* * *
“Impossible, Talbot. He’s back in combat. And Major Van Klomp is on a forced march with his men.” The general looked in disgust at the telephone. Waited for his brother-in-law to stop rabbiting on. “There is nothing you, or even I, can do about it. Anything direct is almost certain to backfire on you now. I would certainly quietly withdraw those charges, because if the matter comes to court, you’re going to end up being sued out of existence. You’re a laughingstock and the best you can do is to go to that place of yours in the north and stay there. The town won’t forget you in polka-dot panties for a long time.”
* * *
Candy Foster was sitting looking gloomily at the door. He hadn’t been near here since it happened. Hadn’t called. It was his fault, not hers. She did it because that was what he wanted. She had no real interest in sex. Never had had. But it was a useful lever. So she’d panicked when he wouldn’t come to after the plastic-bag thing. Her fingers had been stupid with fear and she hadn’t been able to get it off. But at least she’d managed to tear the plastic, and hide that stupid leather outfit under a gown when the paramedics came. The story about Conrad had been born out of that panic. Talbot had decided to stick to it to save face. Had that ever blown up in his stupid face!
A brown envelope dropped through the letter slot in the door.
Candice opened it with trepidation. Talbot’s brother-in-law’s influence had stopped her getting call-up papers before. But this letter definitely began with . . .
“Greetings.”
With her academic marks she knew she’d wash out of OCS. Let it be catering or nursing services. That was where nice girls were posted. She could change her hair color and use some skin pigment. Maybe change her name too. No one would recognize her. Hopefully.
Infantry school.
8
“They’re pounding us, Captain. Going to push forward soon,” said the slight, bespectacled lance corporal.
“SmallMac! What the hell are you doing here?”
“Transferred in. You’re getting a reputation, Fitz. You keep your men alive. And you don’t lose.”
It was a heavy weight to bear. “I won’t always manage to do either, Corporal McTavish,” he said quietly. He knew that in this man’s case he was carrying a pregnant wife and two small children as well.
SmallMac shrugged. “Ah, but you try to do both, Captain. That’s a rarity in a Shareholder officer.”
Fitz found that, with the remnants of the rats (numerous) and the humans (few) from the collapse of the forward trenches, he had double his previous troop complement. There were only three other officers—a major who was keeping himself very busy with the troops who were furiously digging in behind them and two fresh-out-of-OCS lieutenants. He held a hasty staff meeting with them and his NCOs.
“Right, based on previous experience, we know when their artillery stops, the Maggots will come swarming.”
“You mean the Magh’, Captain,” said one of the new lieutenants.
Fitz gave the snotty wet-behind-the-ears brat a look that would curdle milk. “Lieutenant Pahad, you’d better learn to speak the language that your men speak, or you’ll be a mortality statistic. While I’m on the subject—Sergeant Major, I want you to detail a veteran NCO to each of these new officers. You two—” he pointed at them in their new, crisp BDUs with their new, shiny pips— “will listen to those men. Take advice from them before you give any orders, if you have time.”