Free Valentine's Rising by E.E. Knight Page B

animals, but your similarities pretty much end there. Same with the Grogs. Some are as smart as Ahn-Kha, who’s smarter than most men I know, but some aren’t any brighter than a catfish. I think you’re talking about the Grey Ones, like the Lucky Pair.”
    â€œYour ape things with thick ol’ hides? They’re called Grey Ones?”
    â€œIn my tongue, yes,” Ahn-Kha said.
    â€œThe ones the Kurians use carry long guns. Fifty calibers,” Valentine said.
    â€œ ‘They’ll take your head off at a thousand yards with ’em too, if you’re fool enough to show yourself and not be movin’,” a voice called from the darkness. “That’s what Sergeant Samuels used to say, anyway.”
    Valentine came to his feet, hand on his pistol. He looked up to see a shaggy man in buckskins, coonskin cap on his head and a sheathed rifle cradled in his arms. Valentine noticed his hand was inside the sheath, though, gripping it so he could get at the trigger easily. Nearly half of the man’s face was covered with a stiff leather patch, but the remaining eye was familiar.
    â€œFinner?” Valentine asked. “Jess Finner?” Valentine suddenly felt like a sore-footed recruit again; he almost came to attention with chest thrown out.
    Finner’s eye took in the whole campsite, not resting on any one spot for more than a fraction of a second. “Yep. Was Sergeant Finner, Tango Company, up to a few months ago. Last time I saw you, Valentine, you were eating a watermelon the size of an anker of rum in Missouri. Heard you got a commission in Zulu Company under Captain LeHavre. He still alive, I hope?”
    â€œI don’t know. I’m no longer a Wolf. You look hungry, Jess. You want to come down and have a bite?”
    â€œMaybe. If I do, know that you’ve got three rifles on each of you.”
    â€œStand down, Sergeant,” Valentine said. “I don’t want an accidental shooting.”
    â€œBeen watching your little procession for the better part of a day. Recognized you by the hair, at first. Limp’s new. Saw you break off and thought it was time for a chat. I’m a bit curious about what you’re doing out in the woods with a Grog, Valentine. What kind of rig are you wearing? That’s not a Guard uniform.”
    â€œIts mostly a Coastal Marine uniform, dyed black. The bandolier is from a snake.”
    â€œMust have been some snake. Be more impressed if you had some friendly insignia, Valentine.”
    â€œTechnically I’m a captain now, Sergeant, though you’ll have to go on faith for that. I couldn’t prove it any better to you than I could prove why I’m out here with a Grog. His name’s Ahn-Kha, and he also outranks you. I’ve been out of the Free Territory for better than two years. Sort of a Logistics Commando operation.”
    â€œThe boy?”
    â€œJust a refugee. None of us are out here for fun. I’m trying to find any kind of Southern Command organization. If you can turn us over to one, I’d be obliged.”
    Finner took his hand out of the sheath. “No longer a Wolf, eh? Ain’t no such thing, Valentine. Once you’ve looked into the eyes of Father Wolf, you’re one until the day you die.” He pushed the cap back on his head, revealing a greasy forehead. “Hell, whatever you are, it’s good to see you again, Captain, sir,” Finner said, holding up his hand palm outward in the Wolf salute. “I’m running with what’s left of Southern Command here in the Ouachitas. If you want to meet the boys, just say so. They’re only a couple hilltops away.”
    â€œI’ll say so,” Valentine said. “Ahn-Kha, take Hank and find the others. Tell them to camp quietly for another day, and wait for me. This should be the end of our trail.”
    â€œHow did it happen, Jess?” Valentine said, as they walked in the loom of Magazine