Carnifex

11/8/467 AC, Isla Real

The Sarah Jay stood in the harbor, surrounded by her escorts. From time to time, an elevator arose onto the flight deck bearing a small chest full of gold. On deck, the container was met by a mixed group of FSN and legionary officers. These jointly opened the chests. The contents were then weighed and inventoried before the chests were resealed with legion-marked seals. The pile stayed under the watchful eyes of both sides as it was loaded aboard one of the Sarah's helicopters. Once loaded, one officer from each service boarded the chopper and accompanied it to a portion of the airstrip that was under guard so tight ants crept between them nervously and on tiptoes.

From the strip, a chest or two at a time, the gold was taken to an old Federated States Army coastal artillery bunker. It was the most secure thing available.

"Screw that," Carrera muttered, watching the gold being trundled off. "We need something a lot more secure." For this, and for the nukes, too.

"Sir?" Sergeant Major McNamara asked.

"It's just not enough, Top," he answered. "We need something like the Federated States Reserve Bank in First Landing."

"Dunno, sir," McNamara answered. "I t'ink wit' maybe t'ree or four divisions worth of troops we got plenty o' security as is."

"Not that many for much longer, Top. Maybe the equivalent of one left after we deploy."

"And t'at's anot'er t'ing," Mac scowled. "It ain't right, you taking off and leavin' me behind."

Carrera nodded, then sighed. "Tell me how many other people I can trust absolutely, Top. Parilla gone to politics. Kuralski back in Volga and he's going to link up with us just before we go into Pashtia. Kennison? Gone. Some of the rest of our original group gone and the rest in critical positions. Most of the first rate Balboans commanding cohorts, tercios and legions. Who have I got left I can trust absolutely, would you tell me that?"

"Miss Lourdes?" McNamara offered. "Oh . . . you meant people you can trust t'at can watch out for t'e Legion and Lourdes, didn't you? You one son of a bitch, you know t'at, boss?"

Carrera nodded. He didn't add, And this promises to be one miserable hard fight and I don't want to lose you, too, old timer. I've lost too much already.

McNamara sighed. "Well, t'en, if I can go to t'e fucking war at least I can kick some hiney to get t'e boys out on time."

And with that Mac turned away and began to stride toward what was called "the Green Ramp"—though it wasn't a ramp at all—where a maniple of troops from Third Cohort, Second Tercio was preparing to board an aircraft heading for Thermopolis, just south of Pashtia.