“Yes,” Bigsby and Nadine both replied.

Sardar laughed at that. So did Roland. For one beautiful moment, he felt nice. A kind of nice he was pretty sure he hadn’t felt in a long time. And then came a familiar pattern of bootsteps, tickling Roland’s ears.

Jim.

Roland turned just as Jim walked into view. His legs were covered by a pair of armored red leather chaps. His groin was wrapped up in a thick kevlar thong but his pelvis and ass were otherwise unguarded. He wore a double-shoulder holster with a pair of bone-handled wheelguns under his arms. The snake tattoos on Jim’s chest and shoulders danced to a melody Roland eventually recognized as “La Cucaracha.”

“Your ink looks real good today, boss,” said Bigsby.

“Ass-licker,” said Sardar.

“Takes one to know one.”

“I don’t lick ass,” Sardar replied haughtily. “I eat it like a starving hyena.”

More laughter, and another fleeting moment of community that was broken when Jim addressed the squad.

“Alright. So several bunks have been humped here. This Heavenly Kingdom’s got at least ten thousand effectives in-theater, with armor, artillery, drones—the works. Our new employer, Austin, has about three thousand fighters here in Waco. Plus now the fifteen of you lot. I flew in with Ajax and Florin. They’re prepping their squads now.”

Bigsby spat. “Ajax fights about as well as a drunk dog in a burlap sack.”

Will replied: “You’re just sayin’ that because he choked you out in the Blood Dome last year.”

Bigsby responded with a double middle-­finger.

“Ahem,” Jim ahem’d. “Plenty of time for dick-measuring later. Time enough for the rest of you, at least. This city doesn’t have a ruler long enough for my dick.”

He paused for a laugh. No one obliged. Jim rolled his eyes.

“Assholes. So, look, we’re in a bad position, with fuck-all for reinforcements coming in. Austin might be able to scrape up a couple of battalions if they suddenly clear out the Houston front, but that don’t look likely. Enemy has another ten thousand men there.”

“Fuck.” Sardar was the only one to actually say it, but everyone else in the group mouthed the word or some equivalent curse.

“How is that even possible?” Azime’s voice was still a little slurred from the painkillers, but her eyes were focused now.

Jim shrugged. “Hard to say, exactly. Mass defections from the Republic of Texas. Intel suspects the UCS probably sent in some spec-ops guys, I dunno. Some sorta skullduggerous bullshit went down. The ‘how’ of it ain’t really our problem today. For now we’ve gotta deal with the reality.”

The snakes on Jim’s torso stopped writhing. He locked eyes with Roland, and Roland felt compelled to meet his old friend’s gaze.

“Can we count on your help?” Jim asked.