The March North by Graydon Saunders Read Free Book Online Page A

exercises day with the battery and company and the fit, determined gunners got squashed by sheer mass of part-timers might provide a hint, but I suppose that’s not something Blossom’s taken personally.
    Even the amount of oddly respectful big-sister advice Dove seems compelledto give doesn’t provide the necessary clue.
    Blossom’s maybe eighteen decimeters, and eighty kilos. Has a typical-of-the-Creeks substantial, muscular build, and, for completely different reasons, tends strong. Since the average Creek woman is a decimeter taller and at least ten kilos heavier, and Blossom only really looks as old as nineteen when consciously presenting the serious officer face,Blossom looks, to pretty much every adult Creek, like their kid sister.
    Nobody in the Creeks has any belief, if they’ve even heard the facts, that Blossom looks so young in consequence of suceeding at a ritual that kills four of five who try it. Not that many of those who become Independents even seriously consider trying it, reputed material, organic perpetual youth, along with extra strengthand toughness notwithstanding.
    By actual count of years, Blossom’s over eighty; being thought of as anybody’s kid sister doesn’t occur naturally. Junior, yes; I think rocks feel junior around Halt, never mind young Independents.
    “The Part-Captain is pleased with the status of the battery?”
    “It’ll do for now.” Blossom sounds pleased. “We should drill more with the Company; maybe try catch witha platoon screening a tube and long shot.”
    “Messy if you miss.” Halt’s tone is not more concerned than an observation that it’s warm today would be.
    “Set up a kinetic dump ahead of time and don’t tell anybody it’s there. If I can do it, you can do it and go right on knitting.”
    That gets Blossom an over-the-spectacles look from Halt, but Halt does indeed go right on knitting. Goes on talking,too, which is unusual.
    “You want effective practice, Blossom dear, you should be trying to hit the whole company on the march. From a good long ways back, so there’s some surprise.”
    Long shot kicked out of a nine-layer artillery tube moves fast enough the air burns. You can see it fine. Doing something about it is tougher, in the little time you’ve got. So further back helps, and Halt’s rightthat the startle’s something to work on.
    “Soon as I think the company will hold, we try that.” I admit I don’t sound very happy saying this.
    Blossom looks just as cheery as before, but it’s serious-discussion low-emotional-temperature cheery. “Why wouldn’t the company hold?”
    “Half of them think the Captain’s dead, Blossom dear, and the other half think demonic.”
    Blossom looks so totally flummoxedfor a moment I hope someone’s watching. We can pick one of the rumoured explanations and make a drill out of it, on the theory that you should always train for what you’re afraid of.
    “The mothers mostly go for dead, and the lovers go mostly for demonic. Couldn’t tell you why.” There’s a glint in Halt’s eye that suggests there might well be a theory.
    Not staying flummoxed is an excellent traitin a young officer. I have to suppose that it’s also a necessary survival trait in Independents, because Blossom’s good at it.
    “How long has it been since the Creeks had a Standard-Captain assigned?” That’s quick; I was expecting a remark about the impossibility of the standard accepting a demon.
    “One hundred and eighteen years.” I’ve been here less than two, and it was close to a year beforeI figured out what the problem was.
    “Totally out of living memory, too, dear, there have been six Independents come into the whole of the Creeks in that time, and none of them have stayed.” Halt sounds amused by this.
    Blossom is clearly trying to find something tactful to say about what I look like when Blossom’s head comes up, nostrils flaring, and there’s much more sorcerer than officer. Haltlooks approving.
    It