Milo goes, “Excuse me?”

“Little Round Top. I used to trudge all over this land with my daddy. I know this place. I’ve studied every square inch a million times. That’s Little Round Top, this is Cemetery Ridge we’re stuck on, that’s—”

“That must be Seminary Ridge,” Milo goes in a quiet voice that for him was wild and crazy excitement.

“And the town is—”

“Getzburk.”

“Gettysburg.”

“That’s right,” Milo goes.

“Nothing new under the sun,” 1 go.

“The geography makes the armies come together in the same place, for the same reasons. It really isn’t such a huge coincidence.”

“We’ll like ponder it all later,” I go. “Right now we’ve got a battle to fight. We’ll see how close to real life it plays out.”

“Sister Mahreenah, this is real life,” he goes.

“Depends,” 1 go. He was going to have to prove it to me, step by step. Then I started having like doubts, you know? “Oh my Godl And you’re the Confederacy, and the Confederacy lost the Battle of Gettysburg.” I was scared, because I’ll be the first one to admit that I don’t always win. In fact, I was so insecure in those days, 1 thought of myself as the Black Hole of Victory, where winning was sucked down and lost forever, and defeat got bigger and blacker all around me.

“I assufre you,” Milo g;oes with a gentle smile, “the fact that we're the Confederation fighting a Union army at Gettysburg is mere coincidence. If I recall my ancient history correctly, it was Meade’s Army of the Potomac that occupied this part of the battlefield, and Lee’s Army of Northern Virginia that attacked from Strahteegos Lahmbrons’ position. The words Confederacy and Union have been switched around, that’s all.”

“I’ll like believe all that when I see them try Pickett’s Charge, I’m sure, you know?”

“I doubt that they will,” Milo goes. “It was an act of desperation back then. The chances of it happening again are very slight.”

Yeah, right. Gag me with a supernova, okay? I mean, that was one hell of a bloody fight, thousands and thousands of dudes shot to like bits. And for what I’d seen—okay?—our “futuristic” medical team was just as primitive and clumsy as during the Civil War. You know, like no Demerol and no anesthetic and amputations done in the dirt with a hacksaw. If Milo hadn’t told me that I was immortal, right, and all my wounds would heal immediately, I would have been nervous. Being immortal kind of lets you relax. I just felt sad for like all the troops who weren’t undying, you know? All 1 could do that night was go up and down the Confederate line going, “Where are you from, soldier?” and “There, there, everything will work out just fine.” I felt like a crud.

One of these broad-shouldered madmen comes up to El Supremo and goes, “God-Milo, will we be attacking on the morrow?”

Old God-Milo gives his handsome head a little shake and goes, “No, Sekstuhn, we have almost an impregnable defensive formation here. We’ll make the Union kath-ahrohee come to us, if they want to.”

Another thing, sweetie: It sure does make a warrior woman’s mind rest totally easy to hear she’s like impregnable.

Anyway, when Sekstuhn took the news back to his buddies, I go, “Coi/-Milo?”

Milo just shrugged with an embarrassed smile on his face. “What can 1 say?” he goes. “Being immortal impresses my men as godlike.”

“There is no god but Milo, and Prince Bili is his prophet,” I go. “Let’s see you make a tree, I’m so sure."

“Get some rest, Mahreenah.”

So 1 go, “Bag it, Milo.” But I did catch some Z’s.

The next morning, before first light, the whole Confederate line was buzzing with activity. We all ate a light breakfast and drank plenty of water; there probably wouldn’t be any time to like stop and refresh ourselves during the battle. We checked over our weapons and horses and waited. After a while, right, we checked them again. We were all restless, you know, waiting for the Ehleenee to like get their act together.

If I’d known what I was going to witness—and be a part of—I might totally have bailed out of there before dawn. I still have nightmares, you know? There was only one word to describe the fighting: totally B-L-O-O-D-B-A-T-H. I mean, it was one thing to lop the heads off green Martians and great apes, ’cause they were just storybook things to me. I didn’t even believe in them while I was like cutting them to shreds. But maiming and killing people, that was completely Mondo Bummer.

The Union army had this idea, see, that they could bust through our lines. They were overconfident and they were like such total jels that they kept bonking themselves on our strong points. They’d make a charge at the left end of the line, squirm their way almost to the top of Cemetery Ridge, and then realize too late that they were no way going to cut through King Gilbuht’s Harzburkers. The Blue Bear guys would work the Union butts until the Ehleenee would all go screaming EEK! back down the ridge. Then they’d try the Zunburk boys in the middle of the line. Same thing, like tell me about it. All morning that went on, back and forth. 1 held back at the beginning, trying to get the rhythm of it. Then I saw that the spazzy Greeks were working up to another run at the left. I kicked up Mr. Ed and went charging down on them. I don’t know what got into me. I just got carried away, so beat me. I was lucky that the folks from the Duchy of Vawn got all revved, too, and came hollering and thundering behind me. In a minute 1 could hear them chanting: “Mahreenah Ahnaiyeestah! Mahreenah Ahnaiyeestah!” Like I was totally Sergeant York or somebody, I’m sure.

We slammed into the Ehleenee in a peach orchard. I didn’t have time to be nervous, it was all I could do to stay alive. The first Union geek who took a run at me, I caught his sword on' mine and turned it to the inside. While he was struggling to wind it back up, I just jabbed the point of my longs word through his throat. It was so easy I laughed. Felt like spearing a marshmallow on the end of a stick or something.

A big cheer went up. I was a hero! I thought, “Maureen honey, you’ve done your part. Why don’t you just trot yourself back up the hill and take ten?” But Mr. Ed was sending me these awful bioodlusty images. She was just itching to tromple somebody, I’m totally sure. It was like if / wanted to go back, I’d have to do it on foot, because Mr. Ed was not about to leave the battle. So I stayed, too. Horse and rider are one, I’m telling you, and you can’t just leave your fourlegged friend in the middle of a battlefield—Bad Show, Just Not Done.

I stood in the stirrups and nearly decapitated another Ehleenee slimeball before he could even unlimber his swordarm. Another cheer went up. I turned to flash the boys a courageous smile. While my head was turned, jeez, two of the bad guys came at me and like I never even saw them. One huge brawny Vawn person behind me spurred up and took out the nearer of the Ehleenee. He had time to deflect the second Ehleenee’s swordthurst, but he deflected it right at me. I felt this way gross pain, like I’d been slashed right where my neck meets my shoulder. Didn’t break any bones, but it hurt like holy hell. 1 went through my screaming and swearing number again, and I got a worried message from Mr. Ed. The Vawn cutie who came to my rescue turned around and supported me in the saddle while I gnashed my teeth and acted like wholly unladylike.

But then the bleeding stopped, and even wickeder, the wound closed and the pain went away. I thought I heard shouting from the axe-and-blade boys before; you should have like heard them when 1 showed 1 was, you know, halfway immortal myself. “Mahreenah! Mahreenah!” 1 could have totally sold them anything from then on. But business called.