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formal he was.  And Erik Teller trusted Abdullah Akeem as much he did an Arcadian hill viper.
    “Erik, I want more search parties out there.  I want every square meter from Petersburg to the river scoured.  There is something strange going on.”
    “I’ll give the orders, Darius.”  Teller turned to walk back out.
    “And Erik?”
    Teller spun around again.  “Darius?”
    “I want patrol sizes tripled.  Whatever is out there, I don’t want any more of our people getting picked off.”
    Teller nodded and trotted out the door.
    Cain stood for a few minutes, staring at the spot his friend had occupied.  He had a bad feeling.  Something was going on.  He had no idea what it was, not even a clue.  But something in his gut told him it was bad.  And that it was just beginning.
     
     
    *        *        *        *        *
     
     
    “How are you feeling?”  Cain knelt down next to the cot.  The field hospital was quiet.  There were perhaps half a dozen beds occupied, but the Eagles’ losses had been mercifully light, and most of the med staff were wandering around without much to do.  The Karelians were amateur soldiers, outmatched and outgunned, and few of their weapons could even hurt the heavily-armored Eagles.
    He was still clad in his fighting suit, but the helmet was fully retracted.  He suspected he was a mess.  A few days in battle armor tended to make one less than presentable.  It was a common joke that a powered infantry soldier would trade a campaign’s worth of plunder for a hot shower.  It was an exaggeration, of course, but there was a kernel of truth to it—as anyone who had ever smelled a landing bay after a long battle could attest.
    Cain spent a considerable amount of time in his hospitals.  He had a habit of moving too far forward, at least in the opinion of Erik Teller, and he’d been wounded himself five times in the nine years since he’d fielded his first force of Eagles.  But mostly he came to visit his soldiers.  The men and women who served under his banner knew he enforced iron discipline, that he expected them to follow his orders with the last bits of strength they possessed.  They understood that his justice was harsh and often brutal, but they knew one other thing too.  That he watched over them like a father.  The Eagles didn’t leave their own behind, and wounded troopers could expect the best possible medical care.  And they also knew they would see their leader walking the aisles of their hospitals, checking on them, making sure they had all they needed.
    But this time he was there to see someone else, an outsider.  Someone who had affected him oddly, who had been on his mind since he’d first set eyes on her.  Outside of his Eagles—and his enemies—Darius Cain tended to ignore and forget those he met, but not this time.  He stopped at one of the hospital’s cots and looked down at the occupant.
    Ana Bazarov glared back at him, her blue eyes glittering with rage.  “Is this a sick game of some kind?  You bring your butchers here to kill my people then you take me to your hospital and heal me?” She was lying back, propped up on a pair of pillows, a light sheet stretched over her.
    She spoke English, which was a surprise.  Karelia’s original settlers had been ethnic Russians, and few spoke anything but their native tongue.  Cain’s interest grew.  She had a heavy accent, one he found oddly appealing.  He felt a smile trying to force its way onto his face, but he held it back.  He didn’t think it would be well received.
    He’d been strangely distracted when he’d first seen her, but now he realized she’d been injured more severely than he had thought.  It looked like she had broken bones in both her arm and leg, as well as half a dozen lacerations.  Her breaks and cuts had been fused, and wrapped in sterile dressings.  He suspected she was sore as hell, but she’d be up and around in a couple days, and