Rusgren Pass - May 24, 1836

Kasu worked his neck a little to work the kinks out of it. Ever since Gatz had finally worked the kinks out of his project, he seemed determined to put some in Kasu's joints by working around the clock to make more.

"Hey, Rasai!" He waved to a Darcsen girl coming into the tunnel. "Have you seen Lin anywhere?"

The girl simply shook her head and held out a platter of sandwiches; she almost never talked.

Gatz climbed out from under a mounting he was coaxing into place with a wrench. "Well, she had some new scheme for the mechanism," he mumbled, his mouth already full of bread and meat. "Mmm-mm-mmph"

"Excuse me?" Kasu laughed, reaching for his own.

The engineer swallowed heroically. "She's probably working on it." He opened his mouth for another huge bite; he was rudely interrupted as drums began to pound out the long roll.

Rasai cocked her head in puzzlement. Gatz would have answered Rasai's silent question, if not for the lump of bread lodged in his throat.

Ignoring his choking friend, Kasu ran for the entrance of the tunnel, calling back over his shoulder. "It's the call to arms."

Falling into line with the rest of the 57th Auxiliary, he anxiously clutched his rifle as he waited for an announcement. As Gatz caught up and came to attention himself, Major Weber emerged from his tent, flanked by a pair of scouts.

"I am afraid I have some rather grim news, men," the officer said flatly as he came to a halt before them. "Our scouts have reported a large Imperial column currently heading this way. At their current rate, they'll arrive in eleven days."

"Eleven days from now, sir?" Sergeant Major Kaza asked.

"No. Eleven days from when the scouts last saw them early yesterday."

"What's their strength?" Gatz inquired.

The major paused for a moment. "I'd say . . . about two thousand men. They're bringing the XIII Battalion, IV Corps, with about a thousand, and a good chunk of . . . II Brigade, I Corps.

Kasu paled, along with about half the regiment. Not only were they outnumbered four to one, but the II Cavalry Brigade was the cream of the Imperial army, along with the rest of the I Corps.

"What? An Imperial Guard unit?" Gatz howled.

Mosby answered from his position behind the major. "Afraid so, corporal. Them black uniforms the I Corps wear stand out good." The scout captain shook his head despairingly.

There was a long silence. Kaza was the first to recover. "Orders sir?" he asked quietly.

"Orders are to prepare for their attack. Inventory the ammunition, dig entrenchments and requisition every weapon in storage. I want every man holding a trapdoor rifle by tomorrow, sergeant."

Kaza paused. Despite being assigned to guard a supply depot, army logistics had balked at supplying Darcsens with anything more advanced than muzzle-loaders that had been obsolete ten years ago. "Sir, regulations-"

Weber cut him off. "Regulations be hanged. If the Imperials sack this base and kill all of us, what sort of rifles they burn won't mean a damn."

"Sir." The sergeant major turned and began barking orders. "Corporal Gatz, I want you to head for the armory and start breaking out the rifles. Every man here already knows how to use one; just hand them out. Sergeant Kasu, take as many men as you need and start digging us some fortifications. We already have the ones around the camp; expand out and start digging more. The more depth, the better. Sergeant Aiden, supervise the placement of your guns in and around the camp, Corporal Zeyd-"

June 1, 1836

Gatz jerked awake as Kasu sat down next to him at the table. Between trying to re-equip five hundred men with new weapons in just a week and cramming in a final mad assembly on his project, the engineer was getting hardly any sleep.

"Were you working late last night too?" his friend asked worriedly. As Gatz nodded sleepily, Kasu launched into what Gatz liked to call his "obsession mode".

"Gatz, if you keep working yourself like that, you're not going to be worth anything when we have to fight," Kasu said.

"Relax mother," Gatz said around a yawn. "I can handle it. Besides, if it can help our odds at all..."

"Yes, but how much progress have you really made?" the sergeant demanded. "Working alone at night, you're not going to be able to finish anything." He paused for a moment. "The entrenchments nearly done, the men can finish them without me. If I could get some of the girls..." He paused sharply. "How many do you think we can make with the parts on hand?"

Gatz thought for a moment. "Counting the ones we already have, maybe about six?"

"And how long would those take to assemble if we all helped?"

A few more sums. "Three days."

Kasu hissed a curse. "That's too long. Mosby thinks they'll be here in a couple of days at most."

Gatz shrugged. "That's the absolute fastest; there's no way to cut it down anymore."

Kasu considered. "If you think these will really do something big, we can take it to the Major. Maybe he could stall them for a day or two."

Gatz almost laughed in his face. "Major Weber, agreeing to something so far-fetched? He's so careful with his men, it's a wonder he's actually going to stand and fight. If we tell him-"

"Tell me what, Corporal?"

Randgriz - June 1, 1836

Cheslock held a match to his cigar, puffing it for a second before blowing out a stream of smoke. "Kinda weird just sitting here in this huge group, huh?" A large group of reinforcements had arrived the day before, more than doubling the number of underofficers in the sergeant's mess. In addition, many of the old hands had been promoted, including a certain Sergeant Cheslock, much to his chagrin.

Wolffe, or now Staff Sergeant Wolffe to the privates, looked up from his postcards of scantily clad women to respond. "It is odd. They've given us so many reinforcements that we're actually nearly at full strength for once; the other regiments don't have nearly as much."

"I'd say we're going to move, either toward the riverbank or into the city. It's the only explanation," newly-minted First Sergeant Wagner remarked, pausing to give Wolffe's collection a black look.

"To try and break the grand stalemate of the war, I suppose?" Corporal Lee interjected. A new addition to the sergeant's mess, the ex-cavalryman had been rolled into the 147th after his unit had been shattered in the early days of the war.

"Hmm. With just one regiment?" Sergeant Ustinov, another new arrival, laughed. "I don't think so Joe."

He began to deal out some cards. "Hey, Charles! I know you're dead broke, so I'll take those as five ducats a piece," he said, pointing at the pictures.

"You're on," Wolffe said as he grabbed up his hand.

Cheslock tossed in a couple of coins. "Maybe one round. You want in, Sarge?"

Sergeant Wagner waved away the proffered cards, but otherwise did not object to the gambling. Sergeant Cheslock grinned. "Something wrong?" the other man asked quizzically.

"The game is actually lookin' fair this time, that's all." The grenadier replied, noting that the sergeant had been acting remarkably like an actual human being since their leave time in Randgriz.

The noncommissioned officers quickly shoved the cards under the table as Landzaat walked in. The new regimental commander had gone from Lieutenant to Lieutenant Colonel in one fell swoop, as most of the senior officers in the regiment had been killed in the disaster at Naggiar.

He paused a moment before addressing the assembled men. "I have just come from the officer's mess. New orders. We're moving out for Rusgren Pass. Apparently the garrison there has reported a large body of Imperial troops approaching. We are to reinforce them."

Sergeant Wagner's hand shot up. Landzaat nodded. "Go ahead, First Sergeant."

"What sort of resistance should we expect sir?"

"The top says that we should expect about a thousand men, no real difficulties." The sergeant nodded, satisfied. "Any other questions? No? Then get your men together. We march in three hours."

Mostly due to the first sergeant's frightening efficiency, the regiment was assembled and ready to move in little more than two hours, sweating under full packs and woolen uniforms. Cheslock shook his head in quiet amazement, despite having seen it dozens of times before.

Colonel Landzaat rode out onto the parade ground laughing. "So Sergeant Wagner, you make me look late an hour early again, hmm?"

"Apologies sir. Though if I may say so sir, it's good practice for meeting any young ladies."

Cheslock stared in disbelief along with the other original members of Company F. Sergeant Wagner making a joke in full view of a regiment?

Landzaat quirked an eyebrow. "Duly noted," he said dryly. He wheeled his horse around. "147th, forward march!" His shout was quickly picked up by various underofficers and reinforced by the steady drumbeat from Private Neumann and a handful of other drummer boys.

As the column moved off, throwing up a plume of dust, Cheslock noted one individual already straggling behind his company. "Regard, it is well within my authority to shoot your lazy ass again!" The private leapt forward as if stung, spurred on by the shouts of laughter around him.