Chương 152: Day One Hundred And Fifty One

Dear Diary, Y'know, I get that the whole 'I've got a bad feeling about this' has become a whole meme, and that it's usually one of those 'you never say that out loud' kind of things. I also get that even if you're not superstitious, you're not supposed to taunt Murphy by saying it. But none of that changes the fact that I've got a bad feeling about this. The Grand Army has slowed to an absolute crawl.

Between checking for booby traps, scouting for ambushes, keeping pickets out to watch for enemies sneaking around behind the Army, building what amounts to a fortress every night, then tearing it down in the morning to make sure any super-sneaky enemies aren't able to use our bivouacs as forts to pin our Army between a rock and a hard place, General Lancaster going over hills rather than just following the valleys, not to mention everything being covered in a thick layer of snow over a thin layer of ice that isn't going to melt any time soon, because it's fuckin' cold as balls?

Yeah, they've been making maybe a mile a day, and for the past couple days they've seen, like, no enemies. Okay, no enemy combat units to speak of. They've come across a few farms that weren't completely abandoned.

Lancaster surprised me by not immediately jumping to war crimes; he commandeered some farm animals, had the locals questioned about when they'd last seen any 'Damn soldiers, and might have scared the shit out of some of the locals by pointing out that if he found proof they were voluntarily assisting the 'Damn Army he'd consider them enemy combatants and treat them accordingly, but other than that? Nada. No stringing the locals up, no reprisals for the earlier ambush, not even any prisoners taken.

Hell, he even gave them IOUs for the animals they took. Not that they'll be able to get the money if we lose the war. Fuck, maybe that's why he did it? I can totally see General Lancaster playing some kind of psychological economic warfare against New Amsterdam by giving their people reasons to want us to win. They've also spotted scouts on their flanks.

Nobody directly in front of the Grand Army, which means nobody in direct line of sight of General Lancaster, which means nobody in direct line of sight of Saffron and Vulcan. Apparently they can learn. Either that or all the stupid ones already got blown up by Vulcan, which amounts to the same thing in the grand scheme of things. At this point I'm really not sure which of us is having their nerves worked worse.

In my case, I get to wait to hear from Saffron, hoping that if the enemy ambushes them she'll have time to let me know. In her case, she's actually there worrying about being ambushed. Of course, in order to ambush the Grand Army, they'd have to know which way they're going to move, and that's another reason they haven't reached Newark yet. As the crow flies, there's maybe twenty miles at most between Carnegie Lake, where they first engaged the 'Damn Army, and the outer walls of Newark.

But there's quite a bit of terrain in between; hills, small creeks, and any place that isn't a farm or a ranch is pine forest. Worst of all for purposes of 'getting this over with before I have an aneurysm', he's never moved along the same axis twice. One day he moves straight toward Newark, the next he goes straight north, then straight east the day after that. Saffron's pretty sure that at least once they spent the day moving away from Newark. So, yeah.

I've got a bad feeling, and no idea if it's justified or not. Slept well last night. Same dream, although the whole itchiness thing has gone away over by the rocks; instead it's moved down near the lake. Really weird having the itch right next to the anti-itching from the psychedelic tadpoles. It's like I've got a rash, but somebody put the anti-rash medication on the wrong body part. Weird fuckin' dream. Woke up to Isnomi shaking me. Okay, not 'shaking' shaking, more slapping at my shoulder until I woke up.

When my eyes slid open, she looked at me with puppy dog eyes and said, "Ma?"

"I miss her too, Menace." I Mimicked Saffron, and wonder of wonders the Menace didn't immediately latch on to my tit. Instead she just curled up against me and made quiet distressed noises. I stroked her hair, playing with the curls to try and get her attention on anything but missing her Mom. I didn't ping Saffron herself, because what with the lack of bombardment duty, Saffron had decided she should be staying with the Grand Army at night.

Between 'cold as balls' and 'no bed', I couldn't imagine she was sleeping well, so I wasn't gonna wake her up if she was still sleeping. After a while just laying there trying to comfort one another, she decided breakfast was a good way to distract herself. I couldn't blame her; if I was able to shrink down and forget about everything except milk and Momma, I would. That gave me the weirdest idea I'd had in a while. I jostled Isnomi gently, saying, "you done, Menace?"

At her murmured denial, I continued with, "do you want to play before Momma has to go work?" Upon hearing the word 'play', she detached and looked up at me, wondering what today's toddler game would be. I grinned down at her, then Mimicked her. So weird being that small, with nothing quite right, but holy hell did her eyes light up. She bonked me on the head with her palm, hollered, "Tak!" and leapt off the bed. I'd say 'with me in hot pursuit', but it took me a second or two to sort myself out.

After that we played chase and pounce all over the room. At one point I got her cornered underneath the shrine, and the little terror went straight up the wall. I still have no idea how she pulled that one off. I wound up having to climb up the ropes to the top of the armoire, which was frighteningly easy given how much we'd tried to keep it from being climbable, then leap at her where she clung to the fucking ceiling of all things. I managed to get one hand clamped onto one of her legs.

She squawked, that foot coming off the ceiling. Shortly after her other foot came loose, and she tried to kick me loose. One of her hands came loose, and I realized that whatever she was doing wouldn't hold both of us right before her final point of contact came loose. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

Un-Mimicking her and Mimicking Marie before we hit the ground wasn't easy, but instead of the two of us testing the padding on the floor with our skulls, I caught her and just kinda sat down on the bed really heavily. She loved it, of course. Insane little menace. At that point I figured if we were awake, we ought to get the day started, so I shifted back to myself and got dressed. Then I spent a few minutes making much over how well Isnomi managed to dress herself.

Somehow she'd gotten her shirt ties and her pants ties tied together, but neither of them seemed loose, so I decided it was good enough. We left the room and followed the squeak of cart wheels to find Marie delivering clean laundry.

"Good morning Marie!"

"Goo mana Mawa!" Marie nodded in acknowledgement, and I asked, "can you pick her up at the end of breakfast?"

"Yes." I gave her a hug, which since I was carrying the Menace meant she got a double hug.

"Thanks, Marie. You're the best."

"Dak Mawa. Yoo da bet!" She just smiled down at the little one and said, "Yes." Breakfast was fun, what with everyone doing their dead level best to consume enough calories to keep from freezing, and Isnomi toddling around the tabletop stealing whatever she could get her hands on. Weird thing I noticed while watching her browse. Butterball Bill? Wasn't really any more.

I mean, yeah, he still wasn't exactly 'svelte', but apparently all the working out with Angel had pushed him pretty far towards packing on some muscle underneath the outer padding. I mean, nothing like the seven foot cube of beef that was his dad, but at this point I figured he'd be able to handle any of the weapons in the armory. Marie showed up at the end of breakfast, and everybody got hugs and kisses goodbye from the Menace. I didn't line up twice, no matter what anyone said.

Three times, because I am Momma and I get more hugs and kisses. I walked to the wall with Lancaster, neither of us talking. We spent the whole day working our way along the top of the wall, practicing our sword work until our hands started to get numb, then walking with them pulled into our coats until they were warm enough for us to fence some more. Midway through the day Saffron tagged me. Goof?

I was a little distracted, because despite a few days lessons and practice, Lancaster was pretty fuckin' good with a sword. Yeah, Kitten? What's up? I just got out of an interrogation of one of the 'Damn scouts we caught. I ducked under a horizontal slash, brought my sword up towards Lancaster's crotch, and somehow he managed to twist his blade around to deflect it so I just grazed his thigh. Okay, I'm assuming you found out something interesting?

Or are you in dire need of some brain bleach to forget about Lancaster's interrogation methods? Oddly, no. He's remarkably civilized about the whole thing. But the scout? I backed along the wall, parrying frantically as Lancaster's sword seemed to turn into a goddamned sewing machine, thrusting everywhere my sword wasn't.

I managed to avoid most of them, and between the wooden swords, thick fur coat, refractory jacket, and layers of muscle I'd put on over the past four months, the ones that hit didn't do more than bruise, but I knew I'd be bruised to a fare-thee-well tomorrow. What about the scout? He's convinced that this whole war is a Holy War started by the followers of Ares, to, I quote, 'purge the darkness that has filled the skies of Phileo, even unto the heavens of the Gods.'

Lancaster thrust a little higher than he had previously, and I took the opportunity to duck under it and bring my sword around to clock him in the side of the head. Of course, he brought his sword down on top of my head at the same time. Okay, yeah, so Bronze Age Roid Rage has come up with some bullshit to start shit. What's new? You remember what Dionysus said? And what happened on All Hallow's Day? I think he might not be lying.

By mutual silent agreement, Lancaster and I each took a step back to recover from our mutual noggin knocking. I held up one hand to ask him for a quick break, then did Loki's co-location trick, only trying to step to wherever 'Underhill' was. I had no idea if it worked or not, because wherever I was? Completely filled with fuzzy, warm darkness. I crouched, put my hands on the ground, and felt the same paving stones as I felt when I did the same thing in front of Lancaster.

I could even see the edges of the paver outlined in wireframe vision. But looking up, left, right, anyplace but the ground beneath me? Nothing but fuzzy darkness. Are you seeing this, Kitten? After a short pause, Saffron replied, are you doing that? I dunno. You know I have no idea how any of this Mimic shit works. She pushed a sigh through our connection, but her tone held as much amusement and affection as frustration. I'm well aware. So Ares isn't lying. He's still a dick. Oh, agreed.

You might want to go see Dionysus and see if Ares has contacted him, maybe see if he knows anything more than he's already told us. You trust me to go see Dionysus alone? That got a laugh out of her. You know the rules, Goof. I get full sensory input of any Happenings that Just Happen. Sounds almost like you're looking forward to Happenings. She managed a growl through our link. I haven't seen you or fired Vulcan in well over forty eight hours. Possibly seventy two.

It's so fucking cold it's hard to think, and frustration isn't helping that one little bit. Don't worry, my little Kitten. We'll just have to make up for lost time when the war's over. I'm going to hold you to that, you realize. And holding will be the least of it. I know. I've got to get back to guard duty. Try to stay warm, Kitten. You too, Goof. Love you. Love you. With that she was gone.

I stepped back into myself, stood up, took a step back to set myself for another spar with Lancaster, and stepped on a patch of ice. No damage except some bruising to my posterior and my pride, but Lancaster didn't have to laugh quite that much about it. Then again, what kind of topsy-turvy world would we be in if a Lancaster wasn't a dick?