“I believe, for my purposes, I shall take the road less traveled. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I’d rather you didn’t take any road.”

“Ah, but where would be the fun in that, Ms. Rivers?”

“This isn’t a game, Fenton.”

“True, but it is an adventure, and one which I am uniquely suited to undertake. Androids have no interest in me, an old man well past his prime, and I am more than wily enough to avoid their reach should they change their circuited minds on the matter.” In a rare show of warmth, he reaches out and lays a gnarled hand on Dakota’s wrist. “I know the import of hunting down the good general, Dakota. He may hold few secrets, but any secret is one too many if it is given unto the enemy.” He squeezes the thick wrist under his hand briefly before drawing away. “We all have our parts to play in this, Ms. Rivers. Allow me the dignity to see mine through, no matter what that end might be.”

After several moments of complete silence, Koda finally nods. “You’ll have some help, however.”

“I assure you, Ms. Rivers, I am quite capab—.”

His discourse is interrupted by a loud whistle, and a moment later fiercely beating wings herald the arrival of Wiyo, who lands easily on Dakota’s wrist. “She can see what you can’t. She can warn you if there’s danger ahead, or behind. She’s a friend. Take her with you, and I’ll feel much more comfortable about letting you go.”

The face of granite, the face that has frightened years off of criminals through the decades, dissolves like sugar in water, transforming the harsh planes of his face into soft lines of wonder and joy.

“Wiyo, hup.”

The redtail easily hops from Koda’s wrist to Fenton’s arm, then sidesteps up until she is perched quite comfortably on his shoulder.

“Now this isn’t a gift, so don’t be thinking you’re gonna be taking her home to live with you, you old codger. When you’ve done what you set out to do, set her free. I may have need of her yet.”

Harcourt chuckles, enjoying the feel of the weight on his shoulder and the odd sense of comfort it brings him. “Not to worry, Ms. Rivers. This bird knows who she belongs with.” His smile falls away, and he inclines his head respectfully. “Thank you, Dakota. You’ve given me a companion beyond price.”

Reaching out, she takes his hand and squeezes the gnarled fingers warmly. “Good luck to you, my friend.”

“And to you as well. May we meet again under better circumstances.”

With a last nod and a fleeting smile, he turns from her to begin his journey. She watches him until he rounds the curve leading to the gate, then makes her way back to Maggie’s office, and the problems within.

*

Kirsten watches as the civilian population of Ellsworth files into the Base theater. Their number has held steady over the last several weeks, since sealing the gates to all but authorized traffic. Still, they number close to three hundred. About half are women rescued from the droid breeding facilities. The remainder consist of families in various configurations; in the first row an elderly couple accompanied by two toddlers shuffles sideways past a pair of young fathers holding hands with their three pigtailed daughters between them. They take their places beside a middle-aged woman and a teenaged girl with a face that is a mirror image of her own and eyes dead and dull as granite. They greet each other with quiet nods, subdued and somber. Though information about the approaching enemy has been closely guarded, they must know that a crisis is at hand. Koda’s return with a strange warband will not have gone unremarked, nor the suddenly increased number of Tomcat flights taking off for day-long missions to unspecified destinations. The Base is a small town, with a small town’s instant transmission of gossip.

Maggie, standing beside her on the small stage, says softly, “They know.”

“They’d be fools not to,” she answers. “Nobody’s ever thought the droids would give up. Ellsworth is a prime target.”

Maggie flashes her a grin. “Our defenses are good. Better since your little excursion.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.” Kirsten returns the grin, showing her teeth. “You’re still Base Commandant, General Allen.”

The promotion cannot have been unexpected, but Maggie stares at her wide-eyed for a moment, the breath gone out of her. Before she can speak, Kirsten says flatly, “It gets worse. You’re Air Force Chief of Staff, as of now. If we make it through this upcoming fight, we’re going to have to start looking for and organizing other surviving forces. Persuade them if we can, appropriate them if we have to.”

“Like Koda ‘appropriated’ the Minot militia?”

Kirsten nods. “We do what we have to. We’re not going to come out of this with the same kind of society we had going in. At least for a while, we’re going to have to be the biggest, meanest, most ruthless dog in the junkyard. Because that’s what we’re going to have to deal with—junkyard dogs.’

“Some of them rabid.”

“Some of them rabid,” she affirms. “And some of them we’ll have to deal with as we would with rabid dogs.”

At the back of the auditorium, Andrews pulls the double doors closed and turns to wave at the stage. All in.

“You sure you don’t want to do this?” Maggie asks Kirsten.

“Positive. It’s your Base. I’m just the civilian authority.”

“Okay, then.” Maggie steps forward to the podium, flanked on one side by the Stars and Stripes, on the other by the blue Air Force banner. She taps the mike softly and says, “Is this thing working? Can you hear me?”

A murmur of assent comes in answer, and Kirsten notes the rise in her shoulders as she takes a deep breath. She has just made Maggie the supreme uniformed authority in what remains of the United States. Which is only fair, she thinks, if I have to be President. Serves her right.

But that is not the only change that needs to be made. It is becoming increasingly clear that Koda’s position with the troops will have to be formalized, some title found that she will accept. “First Lady” sure as hell isn’t going to do it. Suppressing a smile, she turns her attention back to Maggie.

“. . .some cause for concern,” the new General says quietly. “General Hart has gone missing, and our efforts to find him have so far been unsuccessful. We do not know whether he left of his own free will, nor do we know whether he is safe, or even alive. I urge anyone who may have any information about the General to share it with the MP’s and help us to find him.

“Now. The real reason we asked you to come here. As most of you know already, the droids have regrouped since their last attack on Ellsworth. They are currently gathering troops and materiel at locations to the south and west of us. We have every reason to believe that they will attack Ellsworth again.”

A murmur runs through the crowd, quickly stilled. Maggie continues, “So we’ve asked you here, President King and I, to offer you a choice. Anyone who wishes to leave the Base should be packed and ready and at the gate tomorrow morning at eight. A bus will be made available to take you into Rapid City. Unfortunately, we cannot spare either the personnel or the vehicle to take you further. If you wish to leave the area entirely, we suggest that you go into North Dakota, then east. You will have a better chance of avoiding the enemy if you move in that direction. Lieutenant Andrews—he’s the redhead over there—will have a list for you to sign as you leave here tonight, so the bus driver will know who and how many to expect.

“On the other hand, you are welcome to stay on Base if you prefer. The only condition is that able-bodied adults must serve in support capacities to free up as many troops as possible for fighting. We will need you as cooks, messengers, orderlies, clerks. Someone will have to set up a child-care center. Lieutenant Rivers has the list where you can sign up for the job you prefer. We’ll give you your first choice if we can, but there are no guarantees.” She pauses a moment. “Are there any questions?”

The grandfather in the first row stands. “Will you be able to defend Rapid City?”

“We will have a fighter designated to attack troops that may approach you from the west. But that protection will be minimal. We are not prepared for urban ground fighting. We don’t have the numbers for it.”

A ripple of sound runs through the audience again. Here and there faces go grey; not all had realized the gravity of their situation. A woman in the last row speaks for all of them. “Is there anyplace that’s safe? Or safer?”

“No, ma’am. There isn’t.”

A silence falls, then. Maggie waits at the podium, but no one has anymore questions. After a moment, people begin to move out. Most, Kirsten notes with satisfaction, pause to sign Manny’s list; perhaps a dozen opt to evacuate.

She moves to stand beside Maggie. “That was a dose of reality.”

“Oh, yeah. They knew there was a problem. This was just the first time somebody official said it.”

“How long do we have?”

“Maybe a week. They’re not moving yet, but the recon flyer that came back about an hour ago says their numbers have doubled in just a couple days. Not good.”

Not good at all. Kirsten says, “I’m going back to the house. See if I can turn up anything else on the code.”

It is an unlikely hope, and they both know it. When Kirsten leaves the auditorium, Maggie is poring over the lists with Manny and Andrews. Past the veterinary clinic, past the stand of woods to the west of the street that leads to the residential section, strings of code run through her head. All futile; she’s been there before and come away empty. At the curve of the road, a rustle in the tree above her catches her eye, startling her out of the endless loops of binary. Sitting in the fork of the trunk, regarding her with eyes like onyx, is a large raccoon. “Yo, Madam President,” he says. “How’s it hanging?”