Andrew made his way through the press, laughing with delight, accepting a blessing from Father Casmar, who suddenly was swept off his feet and borne away by the crowd. Others were now coming off the train, reunions around him, Gregory pushing his way through to grab his wife, the two kissing passionately. From out of the last car Vincent saw Tanya and the children and rushed up to them, kneeling down to grab hold of young Andrew, crying with delight as Tanya came into his arms, the twins clutching at their father's legs.

He saw Marcus come down off the platform, and he went up and saluted.

"Welcome, Mr. President," Andrew said, saluting smartly and grinning.

"It's going to be an interesting party," Marcus said, his Rus still halting, but improving. "How's the situation?" he asked, trying to be serious even now.

"The last of them were released this morning, some ragged bands moving west out of the woods across the river."

"Tamuka's people."

"The same."

"We've not heard the last of him."

"It'll be years, maybe never. It'll mean we can't stop now. There'll be railroads to build, linking more and yet more people, freeing them from tyranny, freeing an entire world one day. We've got a lifetime of work ahead of us, your people and ours."

"Our people together," Marcus said, and Andrew grinned broadly.

"The Tugars?"

"Still riding east. They crossed through our lands without incident, though that move had me worried,"

Marcus replied. "But he honored his word as you thought he would, and pledged to stop the killing of people farther on in his march eastward wherever they might go. He told me to say to you that Qubata was right about you after all, perhaps right about all of us, and then he rode on."

The turning of the Tugars had been crucial, increasing the terror of the Merki, adding strength to his bargaining with Haga, and, perhaps most important, protecting the wounded, who still might have been killed. In the days to come, many of those wounded would be coming back home who would not have been alive if it had not been for Muzta. He was glad that Emil had managed to save Muzta's son's life. He hoped that somehow what was left of Muzta's people would survive.

Marcus looked past Andrew as the men of the three corps of Roum came pressing through the crowd, and he stepped down to them, arms extended, laughing as they swept him up into the air, cheering loudly, holding him aloft.

Behind Marcus, Emil came out of the car and looked around at the chaos.

"I bet the city's a mess," Emil said, lowering his head, taking off his spectacles to clean them, and then putting them back on.

"How are the boys at the hospital?"

"Still losing some, but most of those still with me are on the mend," Emil said quietly. "I'll tell you something, though, Andrew. I'm retiring."

Andrew looked at him, a bit startled.

Emil forced a smile. "I guess the last time did me in," he whispered sadly. "One operation too many, one sacrifice too many, one too many boys of war dying on me."

He paused and looked back at the crowd.

"But I can see it was worth it in the end," he whispered. "Plan to do research," he said, his voice brightening again. "Doing some experiments with carbolic acid-seems to work better than tincture of lime to stop infection. Want to do some more work on what my old mentor Semmelweis was on to. I think there's a connection between those microscopic creatures I told you about and infection. A lot to do, and I'm looking forward to it, by damn."

"But who's going to run the medical service?" Andrew asked.

"Hell, without a war we won't need what we had, thank the Almighty. But I've got a replacement already picked," and he pointed into the car, "and she's in there. She'll tell you all about it, and something else as well."

He grinned and climbed down from the car. Pat O'Donald grabbed hold of him, pulling out a flask, and the two shared a drink until they were picked up by the crowd and swept away.

Andrew climbed up the platform and onto the train. Kathleen was standing inside the car, to his delight wearing the one dress she still had from earth, Maddie asleep in her arms in spite of the turmoil outside. Beside her was a small trunk, holding in it the few possessions they had taken with them into exile.

He went up to her almost hesitantly, not having seen her for over a month. Maddie stirred and he kissed her lightly on the forehead, and then Kathleen set the baby down to sleep on one of the chairs.

Andrew pulled her in close, kissing her, the two of them laughing, and then he held her tight.

"Welcome home, Kathleen darling."

"Our house?"

"Dusty, some windows broken, but still there."

She smiled.

"We're really safe, it's over with?"

"It's over, they're gone. It'll be years before we ever hear of their likes again, maybe even never."

"Thank God." "I heard about your promotion to chief surgeon."

She laughed as he stepped back to salute her formally, and then she was back in his arms.

"Let's go out and join the celebration."

"I don't think so," she whispered shyly, looking up at him.

"Why not?"

"The crowds and all the pushing. I've got to be careful."

He felt his heart skip over.

"A baby?" he whispered.

She smiled and nodded.

He held her close to his side, and together they went out to the back platform to watch as the crowd cheered and sang, and wept with joy. And over them floated the flags of the regiments.

Above them all, Colonel Andrew Lawrence Keane saw two standards that seemed somehow to float above the others-the flag of the Army of the Republics, and beside it, shining in the glory of a new day, the faded colors of the 35th Maine.