“More like a third,” Cally said, grinning. “The answer is: We’re good. Very good. But at the moment we’re stretched. And our usual support isn’t… quite so supportive.”

“So you’ve got major logistics issues,” Mosovich said. “Where do we come in?”

“Right now you’re in holding pattern,” Cally said. “After the holidays we are going to scatter some of the men, and especially dependents, into safe houses and bases. And we’ll get started on the plan for how to use DAG long-term.”

“Which is?” Jake asked.

“Right now it’s under OPSEC,” Cally said, shrugging. “I’ll bring you guys in as fast as I can.”

“So this was a social call,” Mueller said.

“No,” Cally said. “This was ‘Hi, I’m your new boss. Same as the old boss.’ And that I’ll get you fully briefed in as soon as I possibly can.”

“Roger, dodger,” Jake said, nodding. “Been a mushroom before, I can be a mushroom again. For a while.”

“Keep the troops straight and we’ll get through this just fine,” Cally said, standing up. “Any questions?”

“So how did you… ?” Mueller said.

“We’re very good,” Cally said with a sigh. “It’s complicated. Any real questions?”

“Just how big are those?” Mueller asked.

“Any real and relevant questions?” Cally asked, shaking her head.

“Nope,” Jake said as Mueller started to open his mouth.

“See you soon,” Cally said, walking out.

“You get the feeling I’m getting?” Mosovich asked as soon as she was out the door.

“You mean the part where it sucks rocks, or the part where it sucks ass?”

“Yeah. Me too,” Jake said glumly.

In the blank gray Galplas mess hall, a baker’s dozen of men sat on tables, or leaned, or stood. A silver and black furred alien sonofabitch stood in front of them, hooded cloak thrown back to reveal pointed ears that twitched occasionally as he spoke, in patterns that looked less nervous than some inscrutable form of facial expression. His eyes were such a bright emerald green that they practically glowed, especially against the faintly purple-tinged whites of his eyes.