At the moment, the broad, flat backs and the roofs of the Bisons around him and the enclosed box trailers were crusted with snow, and more snow had gathered in the folds of the canvas tarps covering the flatbed trailers. Many of the flatbeds had been fitted with an adapted version of the PAAF’s and Trans-Temporal Express’ cold weather wagon covers: multiple layers of canvas separated by tightly woven blankets of Kyaira cotton from the Chuldair tree. The fiber was light, water resistant, and a good insulator, and the covers provided a shell that was both weathertight and windproof and did an excellent job of retaining heat. Fitting the Steel Mules with the covers had been relatively straightforward; since the always logical Portal Authority had sized their wagons to the same dimensions as a standard steam dray and the Mules were based on the same standard dray chassis, the covers could be easily fitted to them. The Bison trailers were harder, since no one had considered providing that sort of protection for something that size, but the Authority and TTE workshops had managed to provide at least enough of them to meet the Army’s minimal needs.
The Steel Mules were just as snow burnished as the Bisons, and he saw several vehicle crews doing morning walk-around inspections. Two of the Bisons were parked to one side with their outer engine hatches hooked back on both sides while mechanics leaned in and did something to the boilers or the fire boxes. He wasn’t sure which it was, but he knew they were lucky to have only two of the massive vehicles on the disabled list this morning. Breakdowns had been manageable, so far, at least…but they were suffering more than enough mechanical failures to make him nervous. Worse, the breakdown rate was increasing, and it had become evident several weeks earlier that the 3rd Dragoons still didn’t have enough trained maintenance people of its own. He’d borrowed all the mechanics he dared from Ganstamar Yanusa-Mahrdissa, and he knew the TTE engineer would have given him more if he’d asked for them, but it was even more important to keep the logistics corridor behind his advance open and steadily growing. The TTE crews who’d taken over responsibility for that corridor and the chain of supply dumps dotting his back-trail needed enough mechanics to keep their own drays and the Bison Ones they’d acquired from 5th Corps up and running. If the price of supplying his men with all the supplies-especially fuel-they needed was to slow their rate of advance, he’d just have to smile and bear it.
And at least he hadn’t had to do that yet, he reminded himself.
His command group was traveling with the 16th Dragoon Regiment-Regiment-Captain Teresco chan Urlman’s command and the second regiment in Renyl chan Quay’s 1st Brigade. The 12th Dragoons, 1st Brigade’s other regiment, was six days and six hundred miles east of his present position, closing in on the Thermyn portal, while the 9th Dragoons, leading Brigade-Captain Shodan chan Khartan’s 2nd Brigade, was about twenty-five miles behind him. The 23rd Dragoons (2nd Brigade’s second regiment), followed just thirty miles behind the 23rd. But the lead elements of Brigade-Captain chan Sharys’ 3rd Brigade, unfortunately, trailed almost a hundred miles behind the 23rd, while Brigade-Captain chan Bykahlar’s infantry brigade had only reached Kelsayr the day before yesterday.
A foot crunched, breaking through last night’s fresh snow to the crusty layer of ice beneath it, and he turned his head to look over his shoulder.
“Why do I think you have another message from Corps-Captain chan Rowlan, Lisar?” he asked with a slightly skewed smile as Company-Captain chan Korthal came to attention and saluted.
“Perhaps because of my cheerful expression, Sir,” his staff Voice replied.
“Oh, come now!” chan Geraith chided. “The Corps-Captain isn’t that bad!”
“It’s not so much the Corps-Captain. Or not as directly him as it is Platoon-Captain chan Valdyn, anyway,” chan Korthal said. “He’s a very good Voice, you know, Sir, but he does like to add his personal commentary on how the Corps-Captain’ s day is going. I think the phrase he used this time was ‘snowbear with a sore tooth,’” he added with a grin which might have been just a bit devoid of sympathy for his fellow Voice.
Chan Geraith shook his head reprovingly, but his heart wasn’t in it. Chan Korthal and Zendar chan Valdyn, Corps-Captain Fairlain chan Rowlan’s Voice, were very close friends. Unlike the dark-haired, dark-complected chan Korthal, who’d been born within sight of the Fist of Bolakin in southern Narhath and thought a day below fifty degrees was a foretaste of the Farnalian demon Gynarshu’s frozen hell, the red-haired, very fair-skinned chan Valdyn had been born and reared in the northern reaches of the Republic of Hanyl in New Ternath. He probably would have found their present surroundings downright balmy…which, of course, was why he was still stuck at Fort Salby, where Corps-Captain chan Rowlan had established his current forward headquarters.
It was difficult to imagine two people who looked less like one another, but the Voices were very much alike under the skin. In particular, both of them shared the same…respectfully irreverent outlook, and chan Geraith was very much afraid that chan Valdyn’s chosen simile was probably well taken. Of course, chan Rowlan wasn’t exactly a towering giant-not for a Ternathian, at any rate; he was only a few inches taller than chan Geraith himself-but his growing impatience at being stuck so far behind his corps’ lead elements probably made him seem quite a bit larger. In fact, on a bad day, he probably did remind chan Valdyn of the enormous white bears of his homeland.
“I think it would be wise of you and the Platoon-Captain to refrain from exchanging observations about the irascibility of your superior officers,” he said now, as severely as he could.
“Yes, Sir. Of course, Sir!”
The earnest sincerity of chan Korthal’s response was undermined by the twinkle in his eye, and chan Geraith sighed. He hadn’t expected anything else, nor did he truly want it. The Imperial Ternathian Army was less invested in excruciating military courtesy and protocol than many militaries-the Imperial Uromathian Army and (for that matter) the Imperial Ternathian Navy came rather forcefully to mind. It understood discipline and the consequences of insubordination, but as a rule, it preferred its people got on with the job rather than salute one another at the drop of a hat, and both he and chan Rowlan were even less concerned with taut punctilio than was the Ternathian norm.
There were times when that bit both of them on the arse, but it also produced enthusiastic, engaged subordinates. All things considered, that was well worth any…minor quirks in those subordinates’ gallop.
“So how, aside from his irascibility quotient, is the Corps-Captain this fine morning?” he asked. “I assume your good friend chan Valdyn didn’t contact you just to describe the state of the Corps-Captain’s dental work, you understand.”
“Actually, Sir,” chan Korthal said much more seriously, “Tymar’s transcribing the latest dispatches right now. He should have the morning’s traffic in the next half hour or so.”
Chan Geraith nodded. Chan Korthal was fully capable of reproducing every Voice message he’d received verbatim, or even relaying them mentally to anyone who (unlike Arlos chan Geraith, who lacked even a trace of Talent) could Hear them directly. Normally, however, unless the message was truly urgent, he delivered it initially not to its addressee but to Javelin Tymar chan Forsam, chan Geraith’s staff Scribe. Scribes were capable of producing flawless transcriptions of anything they’d seen or heard, which was essential for message distribution and record purposes. What made chan Forsam especially valuable was that, unlike all too many Scribes, he also had a minor Talent for Mind Speaking. That meant he could take “dictation” directly from a Voice, and he was a highly skilled typist, capable of over a hundred and fifty words a minute. In fact, that typing speed and his Mind Speaking Talent were the primary reason he’d been assigned to the unTalented chan Geraith. The division-captain couldn’t Hear chan Korthal directly, but between them, the Voice and the Scribe could get him written copies of any critical dispatch very quickly indeed.