"Second of the Nineteenth taught hard lessons and we

learned them or died. The lessons were carved into us

in pain, scars, blood, and loss. But some came to

Alfenwehr and thought they already knew the lessons.

We could teach them those hard lessons, or they'd die.

It was simple. It wasn't malice. It was just the way things were."

2/19th Special Weapons Group

Restricted Area, Alfenwehr West Germany

Late Winter- January, 1986

Day 11 of Repairs

Day 3 of the Second Incident

Morning

The temperature had definitely dropped in the barracks while we were asleep. Standing in the hallway the proof was obvious to anyone. Ice was glimmering on the walls, ceiling, and the "frosted" florescent light covers. The waxed floor was slick with patches of near-invisible ice. Additionally, my cousins were treated to the sight of tiny snowflakes drifting down the near stairwell from the darkness above.

"They make you live here?" Cassius asked, holding out one hand so the flakes drifted into his palm, remained for a second, and then turned into tiny drops of water.

"It isn't that bad," I told them, moving slowly down the stairs, keeping one hand on the bannister for balance in case I hit ice on the steps. "Things could be worse."

"How could things be any... ow!" Cassius started, then yelled when Nancy smacked him across the back of the head.

"Don't say that shit, you idiot 'cruit," Nancy snarled. "You'll kill us all."

We were silent as we pushed through the door and into the CQ Area, discovering that we were the first of Rear-D to arrive with the exception of the CQ Crew. Lanks looked like she was going to drop, having pulled CQ Duty, a day off, then CQ Duty again. The LT was looking over the logs and talking quietly with Lanks. I noticed that his normally perfect hair was slightly mussy, he had purplish circles under his eyes, and he was wearing his pistol with the M1911A1 riding in it. My eyes immediately went to the pistol holster, and I noted that the pistol was unsnapped, allowing it to be drawn quickly. A little bit that surprised me was that the pistol wasn't in the exact position it was supposed to be according to uniform standards, but he'd rather moved it to a place where he could draw it quickly in a cross draw.

Some things weren't exactly adding up where the LT was concerned, and I suddenly wished he was in the habit of wearing his Class-A's to impress us all, because his medals might let me fit some of the puzzle pieces. Fill in some of the questions, some of the blanks. I hated having incomplete intelligence about a situation, not having data that might make the difference with a decision I might have to make.

Lack of intelligence was dangerous.

In 2/19th, dangerous meant deadly.

Now that I thought about it, I don't think he'd ever attended a Class-A inspection.

"Corporal Stillwater," the LT called out when he saw me. I moved up went to salute, and he made a chopping motion, shaking his head. "No need for that." I nodded, dropping my hand, and he continued. "I am hereby informing you that I'm assigning Private McCullen to your squad, you will be in charge of her and will determine her duties."

...aw shit...

"While she may be placed in another squad or even another platoon once her assignment with Rear Detachment is finished, for the moment, you are her squad leader and I expect you to treat her with the respect and the dignity that her rank and status deserve. I've deduced that there's some kind of history between the two of you, but since that history predates your military service you will keep it out of your military life." I kept my face as neutral as possible, ignoring the hate filled hiss of the little lizard at the idea of her being out at Atlas with us.

"Additionally I'm handing you Private Sheldon, since his profile prevents him from lifting anything or doing any overhead work. Private Parker, one of the new men, will be assigned to you so that you can ensure he doesn't suffer any cold weather injuries. I assume you can put them to good use," he told me. I nodded as he continued. "I am assigning your cousins to Sergeant Butcher due to the fact that I want to avoid any appearance of favoritism or nepotism. I know that your squad is currently light on members not on a full profile, but I expect you to carry on to the best of your ability."

"Yes, sir." I nodded. Hell, I understood that part. Any promotion I gave out, any award I put them in for, would all be scrutinized closely and in the minds of their peers and supervisors they would be tainted by their relationship with me.

"I am moving Specialist Miranda Stokes to your squad. This will not be a problem, will it, Corporal?" he asked me.

"No, sir," I answered. With the addition of Aine, Parker, Sheldon and Stokes that brought my squad's numbers up to seven, counting me; still the smallest of the squads, but the first three squads were all work crews while I believed that LT James was using my squad to put either unknowns or seriously injured into mine.

"You are correct, Corporal," the LT said, jarring my thoughts. "I am using your squad for personnel that I feel should not be on the work crews due to profile or their lack of experience in cold weather." The shock I felt must have carried through to my face. "Private McCullen is an unknown, Specialist Stokes' knee is permanently damaged, which puts her at the risk of taking a fall. Private Parker is relatively unknown. This environment does not allow for much of a margin of error. I would prefer if any errors did not result in extensive injuries or death of any my personnel."

I could hear boots coming up behind us and it sounded like the majority of Rear-D had managed to gather up in one of those gaggles you got now and then despite training and doctrine.

"Take your place, Corporal," he said, dismissing me.

When I saw Stokes I motioned to her, letting her know that the LT had moved her to my squad and that I'd figured out what I'd have her doing as soon as formation was over. She nodded, looking a bit relieved for some reason.

Formation had loosely gathered together, with everyone more or less in the lines we were supposed to be formed up in. Aine slid through the doors after PFC Graham and just moved next to Stokes, smiling at everyone with those small sharp little teeth. I noticed Parker hadn't made it down for formation and filed that information away.

Marshden was still missing, something that made me nervous. Sergeant Butcher didn't seem too concerned with his missing man. The one that had made the second of the missing the day before was Fellwreath, who had apparently just been sleeping and had been given the day off. Stokes had told me that they'd found him drinking beer and watching TV in his room when they swept the barracks while I'd been doing paperwork.

The Lieutenant called us to attention and requested our reports. Everyone but Parker was present and/or accounted for, and he stood there silent for a long time staring at us, making me nervous. He gazed at each of us, almost as if he was making a show of looking at each person and judging them, weighing them against whatever standard he held people to.

"Form up into your work details. I expect no less than four rooms worth of the windows to be replaced today as well as the doors that accompany those windows to bring the room up to standards." His smile was a cold thing. "It appears our good Corporal Stillwater and his fellow survivors did an exceptional job of ensuring that his plan for the barracks denied the enemy territory. While I wish he would have spared our home his attentions, I must commend his aggressive mindset and his willingness to carry out whatever it took to obtain victory." He paused for a moment, his eyes settling on several people in the formation. "Despite the rumors and grousing that have been coming to my attention, Corporal Stillwater and everyone else who survived that Rear Detachment shift had no choice but to deny the enemy territory, as they did indeed have an enemy who knew the territory just as well as they did.

"Let me put the rumors to bed once and for all, as Rumor Control, like it usually manages to accomplish, has gotten most of the story right but the majority of the details wrong." His eyes swept back over the formation, but had nothing to do with the goosebumps that covered my skin. "Corporal Stillwater and the others of Rear Detachment were engaged by person or persons unknown who seemed intent upon murdering the entirety of Rear Detachment. They were ambushed and did not know they were under attack until their situation was extremely perilous. They survived for over a week with no power, no heat, no water, in a barracks that had fallen to subzero temperatures with a blizzard raging outside of the building, and two severely wounded personnel who only survived due to the attentions of Specialist Nagle." His eyes were daring anyone to say anything, merciless and judging everyone they swept over. "Before you complain about his methods, or his participation in destroying the barracks, weigh your own character and abilities and decide if you could have performed half as well as Corporal Stillwater and what remained of Rear Detachment without destroying the barracks in order to deny the enemy the resources of said barracks. Remember they were all injured, suffering from deprivation and exposure, and men died." He paused for a long moment. "Attend to your duties. Attention. Squad Leaders, take charge. Fall out."

The group scattered into the work groups. Some to replace the doors. Some to replace the windows. Those of us who were responsible for paperwork and other duties. McCullen quietly waited for instructions while my two cousins were put on window repair. I told Nancy to take Aine to her room and inspect it, while I wanted Bomber and Stokes to head up to the Mag Office and take an inventory of the platoon emergency stocks stored up there, specifically finishing up the last of the medical equipment. Nagle told me to give her ten minutes before I came into inspect, that way Aine could have the courtesy of fixing anything that was correct according to Basic Training and AIT, but incorrect according to Group SOP. I agreed and she smiled at me before turning and leaving with Aine.

"A moment of your time, Corporal Stillwater?" the LT asked as I went up to the CQ desk to see if there were any morning reports I needed to take into account. I turned around, coming to attention.

"Of course, sir," I said. He nodded and motioned me over to the back of the CQ area. I followed him around the large counter that was misnomered as the CQ desk and to the back, by the door to the small room and the table that everyone put their cold weather gear, their weapons, and the vehicle dispatches on.

He waited a moment until nobody was really paying attention to us to speak. Cassius was heading down to the War Stocks Room with the door crew to haul the doors up, and the crew James was a part of was heading down to the supply room to get the tools to replace the windows. The CQ saw he wanted a bit of privacy and went to check the barracks, leaving me alone with the LT and my little quartet of crunchies that had wandered over to the trophy case. I kept from snorting, knowing that it was a little known trick of the barracks acoustics that allowed someone standing by the glass to hear everything said behind the CQ Desk clear as day.

"Corporal Stillwater, I know without asking that I can trust your discretion," he started, no sign of the exhaustion in his pose or voice despite what I could sense from him. "I don't know you that well, seeing as you are in a different platoon than the one I am in charge of, and nobody outside of your own crew seems to know you that well either beyond paperwork and rumors. While that may make you less of a trustable person in some people's eyes, in my eyes that means that I can trust your discretion and your adherence to military discipline. The lack of credible rumors of you also tells me that your crew is capable of discretion." I waited for him to get to the point since it felt like he was in the middle of exhaustion fueled rambling. "I do not believe that we are alone up here despite our remote location or the weather," he suddenly blurted.

I knew I was staring, the sudden jump startling me. "You mean the little girl? She's..." He waved his hand to interrupt me.

"No, there is a fairly simple explanation for her, and she is a known factor listed many times in the Commander's files."

"You mean... him?"

"No. I have come to the conclusion that whatever it is that has been documented as Private Tandy is merely part of the mountain, and as malevolent as he is, he is the same as an avalanche. While he may stalk members of this unit, while he may even kill them, he does so because it is his nature, not out of any more esoteric reasonings." The LT's hand went to his pocket, then he pulled it away. While I watched his fingers went to his left wrist and I heard the pop of a rubberband against skin. "Last night I found myself accompanying the CQ on checks of the secure areas." He paused, and looked almost embarrassed. "There is something in here with us."

I looked at the LT, waiting for him to continue, and his hand again started toward his pocket, was pulled away, and LT James snapped a rubberband around his wrist.

"I have been stationed in this unit since May of the previous year, have been stationed in both Alaska and Western Germany prior to that in my twelve years in the United States Army, and even provided security for an Antarctic research station for six months, so I am familiar with both cold and the darkness." He reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment before continuing.

Twelve years? And he was only a first lieutenant? That didn't exactly fit with the strak and precise man in front of me. He looked like he belonged on a recruiting poster, and the sense of... oddness... I felt from him didn't seem to be noticed by the officers above him.

"The barracks felt different during my sweep last night than it did the day I arrived, and how it does today," he said, and there was the snap of the rubberband again. "Tell me, Corporal Stillwater, off of any official records and simply for my own considerations, when did you know that you and the rest of Rear Detachment were in mortal danger?"

I was silent for a long moment, and part of me was surprised that the LT just let me think, not interrupting me, instead just choosing to wait silently. I thought about being silent until he gave some indication he wanted me to continue but I blew that off as petty.

"Not until almost too late," I told him honestly. "I felt like something was wrong, but I didn't know how much trouble we were in until we saw the blood from where one of the CQ was murdered in the stairwell."

He was quiet for a moment and I could see the wheels turning in his head. "If you will humor me for a moment, Corporal, can you tell me what you think may happen?"

Before I could stop myself it popped out of my mouth. "I think a lot of people are going to die."

He didn't scoff, he didn't blow me off, but instead nodded slowly. "What do you recommend to cut down on casualties?"

The weight of the decision dropped on me. The idea that an officer would give a flying fuck what I thought felt alien and I felt my center of balance tilt. Officers didn't ask enlisted scumbags like me what to do any more than God asked some peasant serf what color the sunrise should be.

The silence was thick when he reached out and put his hand on my shoulder, my left shoulder, and squeezed gently. "Corporal, I feel there is a clear and present danger to Rear Detachment, and I will not allow my soldiers to die because of basic pride that is compounded with ignorance. You survived an attack by Soviet forces on your FSTS twice, you survived when the barracks caught fire and burned down, and you survived the systematic and carefully planned attack last month. I would be foolish if I did not avail myself to your information and instincts."

I gave another slow nod and he waited, watching me closely, watching me think. The little lizard in the back of my head was looking through the option, running the numbers in my brain through every pattern I could conceive against possible threats. The little lizard helped my intellect accept or reject them based on his extensive experience. Millions of years of survival of the fittest that he had come out on top of to end up in the back of the head of an apex predator.

"Four things could increase our chances," I told him, and he nodded, waiting. "First, you need to move people out of single rooms and put them in rooms together." He nodded, something I didn't recognize flickering in the back of his eyes. "Second, nobody does any sweeps of the barracks by themselves, everyone moves in groups of two or more. Third, during security sweeps the CQ needs to check on all rooms and verify that the assigned soldiers are in that room personally. Fourth, and most important, keep your mind open as to what is going on here and try to make plans based on the evidence you have as well as just instinct."

Lieutenant James nodded, rubbing his eyes. "I am going to use one of the unoccupied rooms to get some rest once we are done speaking. I will be in Room 262, which I do believe is near the room you share with Specialists Bomber and Nagle." He sighed and leaned back, scanning the CQ Area, and I noticed his hand was shaking when he rubbed his face again. "I would commit cold-blooded murder to have what the three of you have." I looked at him in confusion and he smiled tiredly, an expression that looked alien on his face. "Trust, Corporal, trust and complete faith in one another."

With that he pushed himself up, grabbing the set of linen off of the table we'd been leaning against while we talked. Without another word he headed to the stairwell entrance, vanishing as the door shuddered closed and cut off the wind.

I stood there for a long moment in the CQ Area, watching Lanks turn over CQ duty to Corporal Lancer. I closed my eyes and the lizard threw my mental map of the barracks up in my mind, pointing at Marshden's room, then highlighting the stairwell at the far end of the building and the door that led outside.

That gut feeling was back, the same cold feeling I'd had and ignored when I'd found the CQ was gone. The little lizard pressed his clawed fingers on the combat button, putting just enough pressure on that button to charge my system up.

"Nagle, take McCullen down and inspect her room. Stokes, you and Bomber go up to the Mag Area and inventory the war-stocks. I'm gonna see if I can find Parker, and handle a few other things." I looked over the Pv2 Sheldon, who had gotten slapped in my squad. "Let's go, Sheldon. Follow me," I told him, walking away without giving him any chance to reply.

Calling out the warning, I moved through Titty Territory, then into Queer Country, heading for the far stairwell. I was aware of the breezes in the hallway, the thump and crash of boots above me, the shouting in German that echoed through the building. I even noticed and dismissed the sound of tap-shoes in one of the empty rooms as I passed it on my way to far exit. The lights were off at the far end of Queer Country, something that pushed me into reaching behind me to pull my BDU top up out of the way of the Gerber on my hip that matched the one riding on my boot. As I did that, several more lights went out, and the emergency light kicked on with a pale yellow glow that did nothing to push back the dark.

Sheldon took that time to speak, about scaring the hell out of me since I'd almost forgotten I'd told him to come along. I was focused on the hallway, the way it felt, and any sounds out of the ordinary. The lizard had edited out the sounds of his boots and breathing, just keeping track of it without keeping it in my conscious mind.

"I'd rather you used my rank when referring to me," he told me.

"Sure, why not." I shrugged, ignoring the fact that two of the lights chose that time to dim and go dark.

"Respect for rank goes both ways," he told me. That made the lizard hiss at him. "If you want my respect, you have to give me respect."

"Fine," I grunted.

"Where are we going, Stillwater?" he asked. I knew his deliberate omission of my rank after his little speech was a not so subtle insult, but I was trying to get a feel for the hallway. Something felt distinctly off.

"End of the hallway," I told him. Something was moving down there in the dark, I was sure of it.

"Why?"

"Know when we get there, now shut up," I told him. I thought I'd heard something from the darkness at the far end of Queer Country, but his yammering mouth had messed up my sound recognition. Hell, I wasn't even sure it was a sound.

"You're about a disrespectful little bastard, aren't you?" he snarled right as I could have sworn I heard the sound again. This time I saw the motion, and heard the sound of steel on steel as the door to the far stairwell closed.

I'd missed my chance. Goddamn it.

I rounded on him, looking down at him. "What did you just say, Private?"

He stared up at me, his face going pale as he was suddenly reminded that he was only five-eight to my six foot even, and that I had about forty pounds of muscle on him.

I kept speaking, my temper fraying fast. I was cold, scared, and the barracks was starting to feel seriously off to me. "I don't give a shit what you think you're due, Sheldon," I told him. I leaned toward him slightly. "Don't think I don't know why you aren't an E-6 anymore, you incompetent fuckstick."

He stepped back, going for an expression of determination and instead coming across like someone who just realized that the dog they'd been teasing wasn't chained after all.

"You fucked up by the numbers, handed out expired propellant charge that had been marked for destruction due to crystallization, and blew up six artillery crews when they went to fire their first round. You killed twenty-six people, got busted from E-6 to E-3, sent here, and got another Article-15 because you think that you oughta still be treated like a fucking Staff Sergeant," I snarled at him. "You're a fuckup, Sheldon, and if you were out at Atlas with me, I'd probably have to beat your fucking ass till you remembered you're a fucking private." He flushed at that and started to look angry, but I cut off whatever dipshit babbling he was going to grace me with by making a chopping motion with my hand. "I don't care what you were before you got to Hell, but right now the only reason you're with me is because we aren't supposed to go anywhere unless we're in a group of two or more."

I didn't tell him that the other reason was because I could outrun him. See, I didn't have to outrun Tandy or a maniac, I just had to outrun Sheldon's slow ass.

"You're lucky I don't want another Article..." Sheldon started to say.

That line was a tired line of bullshit. I knew it, and now I needed to make it so he knew it. So I stepped up into him. "What makes you think that I give a good god-damn what you want? If you want to throw down, I'm more than willing to. Fuck the Article-15, I'll take it." I kept my nose a bare millimeter from his and locked eyes with the shorter man, willing him to try something, or even give me the subconscious signals he was going to try to throw down.

He only held my eyes for a second before he looked down and I snorted. "That's what I thought. Now either follow me or shut the fuck up and go back to the CQ Area and wait for me there, private."

He didn't say anything as we turned and headed back down the hallway. When we reached the emergency light it buzzed, and I could smell burning insulation as we walked underneath it. It didn't come as a large surprise when it failed within two steps past it.

Still, he was following me, which didn't surprise me. I knew he hated a lot of us who outranked him and were younger than him. He was almost thirty and I wasn't even twenty-one and outranked him, ran my own site, and for the most part was given a lot of responsibility.

His squad leader had once made him carry around an ammo-box full of rocks to teach him not to misplace keys after he misplaced FSTS-348's bunker door keys. And he lost the box of rocks too. This was real ironic since he seemed to think he deserved the respect a Staff Sergeant received, even though he'd fucked up by the numbers and was lucky he wasn't in Leavenworth alternating between pounding rocks into littler rocks and getting those rocks pounded up his ass.

Our boots thudded against the tile as we moved up to the far end of Queer Country and I stopped in front of the door that led to the outside. I stared at it for long moment, shushing Sheldon when he kept trying to speak.

The far exit looked normal, the door covered with frost and the chain glimmering like it had been dusted by a fairy. My breath steamed out in front of me as I stood there, looking at the window that would normally let me see the sidewalk, street, and the stupid white picket fence that extra-duty had built during the summer around the front lawn. Only now it was covered with white, preventing me from seeing anything, meaning that the blizzard was still in full force outside.

Everything looked fine, but it made the little lizard snarl for some reason.

He saw something that I didn't, and I looked over the chain and lock before finally seeing the problem.

The lock was scratched around the U of the hasp, and I wrapped my hand around the cold steel, yanking sharply on the heavy duty lock.

With a sharp snap the lock popped open, the feeling telling me that the insides were stripped, that someone had forced the lock open in such a way that the wedge that normally held the hasp in place had been damaged.

"What the hell are you doing?" Sheldon asked.

"Something's wrong."

"You broke the lock."

I stared at him. "Yeah, I'm strong enough to just grab a lock and rip it open. You caught me, I'm secretly Bruce Banner. Keep watch, you idiot." He glared but I moved my finger in a circle to signal him to turn around. It took a couple of seconds before he did it, and I turned my attention back to the door.

I pulled the chain away, then pushed the door open against the wind, dropping the chock and stepping out into the blizzard. I was being stupid, I knew I was, being outside in nothing more than my winter BDU's and a field jacket, liner or not.

Still, I had to know.

The wind kept brushing the snow away from the concrete. I walked along the sidewalk, one hand on the white picket fence so I didn't drift off the walkway and get lost. Despite the blizzard I was looking closely at the concrete walkway, hoping to find a clue but coming up empty. I went about ten steps before the cold got too much. I couldn't see anything, and the lizard was only mumbling.

When I looked down the side of the building, I half expected to see a tether running from the door to vanish into the snow or a large hulking figure with an axe in its hands.

Nothing. No reason for the lizard to hiss.

Shivering I turned around, hurrying back into the barracks and kicking the chock up as I passed. The wind caught the door and slammed it into me, almost knocking me down. The force of it sent me stumbling against the wall as the echo of the door slamming shut rang through the hallway.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Sheldon asked. "Now it's fucking freezing in here."

I ignored him, rubbing my shoulder where the door had hit it and hoping the sharp pain inside the joint was just from the impact and not something else broken inside of it.

"Seriously, what the hell are you doing?"

"Something's wrong," I told him, leaning against the wall and rubbing my upper arms to get the blood flowing again.

Sheldon snorted in disbelief. "Sure there is."

Grimacing at his dismissal, I turned around and threaded the chain, snapping the busted lock shut to keep the chain in place. More than likely the axe-crazy fucker had popped the lock and I was just now finding it out.

That had to be it, right?

Putting it out of my mind, I rubbed my arms and looked at Sheldon. "Come on, let's head back," I told him.

"It's freezing in here, thanks to you," he bitched. I ignored him as we headed down Queer Country back to Titty Territory, but he just kept rambling. "I'm going to have to report you about breaking the lock." I rolled my eyes, knowing he couldn't see me.

About halfway down the hallway, I stopped and pointed at the middle stairwell. "Private Sheldon, head up to the Mag Office and help Specialists Bomber and Stokes take care of what I told them to."

"What?" he asked me. He looked angry, but I didn't really care.

"Did I fucking stutter? Go up and report to Specialist Stokes, she'll give you something to do, Private," I told him.

"I'm on profile," Sheldon tried.

"Then tell her that. Double time it, Private," I told him. He went to say something else, but I walked past him, ignoring whatever bullshit he was trying to say to get out of work.

I headed back toward Aine's room, still freezing from my short sojourn outside. The only sound was my boots thudding against the tile as I headed toward Titty Territory. I needed to check with Nancy to see if Aine's room was dress right dress or had any gigs.

Normally I'd be running the numbers in my head, figuring how many hours it was going to take for Aine to get up to speed. Walking down the corridor, I was busy running the numbers on where Marshden might have gone or what might have happened to him.

The LT was right. Something felt off in the barracks and I couldn't put my finger on it. It didn't fit quite like it had when the masked fuck had ripped us a new asshole, but it definitely felt different than a few days ago. It was almost hushed, waiting, and smug, like it knew what was going to happen. I kept hearing things that I couldn't quite identify, and I knew I'd seem someone down by door to the far stairwell.

The doors to Titty Territory opened with a scream of tortured hydraulic cylinders, almost drowning out my call that there was a male on the floor. In the dimness of the hallway, lit by only a third of the lights, I could see PFC Meeks and SP4 Kreutz heading toward me from the CQ Area. Corporal Lancer, PFC Meeks, Spec-4 Kreutz, and Pv2 Halls had taken over CQ from Lanks and it looked like Corporal Lancer had send Meeks and Kreutz off on an errand. I waited for them only a few paces from the double doors, double checking with a quick pat to be sure that my BDU top covered my Gerber. If they saw it, they'd start asking questions I wasn't ready to answer.

"Hey, Stillwater, what's the deal with the new chick?" Meeks called out to me as he got closer. They stepped in front of me, as if they were keeping me from going any further, and I just stared at them. "She seems to know you, what's up with that?"

"We grew up together," I grunted.

"No shit? What's she like?" Meeks sounded like he was hoping to get some info from me that would give him a chance to get in her pants.

...yeah, you might want to think about that, hero...

"Smart, stronger than she looks, calculating, and manipulative," I told him honestly. I knew he wouldn't pay attention to what I was trying to tell him but I still wanted to warn him anyway about the petite little woman who was big trouble in a small package.

"Did you tap that ass?" he asked. I just stared at him and he changed the subject after clearing his throat uncomfortably. "Yeah, OK, but what's she like, man?"

"Different..." I told him.

How the hell did I explain that she scared me worse than Tandy?

"Come on, man, help a brother out." He grinned at me and I couldn't help but grin back for a second.

"I don't know that much about her, she's a McCullen, I'm a Stillwater." I lied about the first part, I knew her very well. Better than I wanted to admit. "Just stay away from her, man, trust me."

"What the fuck does that mean? Is it because I'm black?" he asked with an edge of anger in voice. I just stared at him, the fact that he had pulled the racist card shocking me.

"Did you see my fucking cousin? You're honestly going to stand there and call me a fucking racist when one of my favorite fucking cousins is black as the ace of spades? When my great-grandmother was blacker than you? Fucking please." Despite my harsh tone, his body language suddenly relaxed.

"It don't have shit to do with your skin, Meeks," I continued in a softer voice, shivering and rubbing my upper arms. I was still cold from being outside in the snow and wind. "It has to do with that if I would have gone near her without permission, her brothers and cousins would have slit my throat and left me on my front yard. Serious business, man. They would have literally slit my throat and left me for my family as a warning," I told him in cold tone, looking down at him. He was staring at me in disbelief.

"Our family name is McDaur'n. Great-grandfather gave one of his sons the last name Stillwater because a man who my great-grandfather owed a blood debt to died without children of his own."

I stared at Meeks, stepping forward slightly to use my size to emphasize the gravity of the whole thing. "My name doesn't matter. She's a McCullen, and I'm a McDaur'n, which means stay. The fuck. Away."

"So it's some cracker shit." He didn't sound angry but rather amused, and he slugged me in the shoulder. "Well, my name ain't McDarren."

"McDaur'n."

"Whatever, man." He smiled and walked by me, continuing on to do whatever. I didn't really care, I was more annoyed at Meeks pulling the race card. I shook my head and headed down to Aine's room. If Aine hadn't mentioned which room she was staying in by the fact she was roomed with Lanks, I wouldn't have remembered her room number.

Hell, I was trying to forget.

The light above me buzzed and dimmed, coming back up slowly. It could have been the weather, but I took it as more evidence the building was waking up, its hatred for us mounting. It was hard to look at everything scientifically, to find the logical explanations for things when you'd lain at the bottom of a stairwell with a bayonet in your shoulder, bleeding out in the snow and cold, and had a dead man straddle you.

And push his finger into the bayonet wound so he could suck the blood off his finger.

I'd probably be told it was a hallucination brought on by cold, blood loss, repeated brain trauma, and the little fact I'd been doing a damn good job of dying, but I wasn't the only one who had seen him. We just didn't really mention it.

Room 147 was almost at the center set of doors, on the right, and I stopped in front of it and rapped sharply three. The unlatched door swung open to reveal Aine and Nagle standing in the main room, in full view of the door, kissing each other, their mouths working.

Nagle had a hand up McCullen's top and the other one holding Aine's chin as if she was holding the other woman's mouth open. One of the smaller woman's hands was down the front of Nancy's pants, her other hand around Nancy's back and clutching between the larger woman's shoulders, the BDU cloth bunched up in her fist.

The wall lockers were open, the dresser drawers open, and I could tell that Nancy had either finished or been in the middle of inspecting Aine's equipment before the two women had decided upon a different type of inspection.

I cleared my throat loudly, and I saw Aine's eyes open and could tell she was looking at me. She moaned deep in her throat and sagged against Nancy, still looking at me, molding her body to one of my best friends.

"On your feet!" I bellowed out. Normally you used that for officers entering a room, but it worked all the same, pulling Nancy away from Aine, both of their hands coming free. Nancy's face was flushed when she looked at me, shock and embarrassment on her face. Aine made a little purring noise and tilted her head down slightly so she was looking at me through those long eyelashes.

"Hello, Aodán," she purred, gliding forward and reaching out to take my hand.

I stepped back and put my hands behind my back even though it made the front of my right shoulder start screaming as the recently damaged and abused muscles stretched. The fact that the cold had sunk into my shoulder didn't help.

"I thought I told you to give us ten minutes," Nagle snapped at me. I could tell she was flustered by the slight flush and her tone.

"I did, it's been about twenty minutes," I told her, stepping forward and looking in the wall lockers. She stood right where Aine had left her, alternating between glaring at me and looking at Aine with warm glowing eyes that were normally reserved for Bomber or me. I ignored the flash of jealousy while I checked the wall lockers before moving to check the rest of the room. I took my time, giving her time to get her breathing under control and her head leveled out.

Everything in the room that had to do with Aine and/or her gear was ironed, hanging or put away according to regulation and the packet we all were required to keep in the middle desk drawer, which gave the suggested room layout as well as how to store your equipment. In the wall lockers all of the hangers three fingers apart, her clothing clean, ironed, and smelling faintly of apple blossoms. Nancy had gone from glaring at me to standing there watching as I opened the drawers on the dresser and the three drawer chest, checking McCullen's socks, T-shirts, and underwear. Everything was folded and put away dress right dress. Even her personal effects in the top drawers were perfectly aligned. The corners of the bed were folded perfectly, her TA-50 was prepped and ready to go, right down to having packed her go-kit.

"Very nice, Private," I told her when I stopped in front of the boarded up window, leaning my butt against the radiator, keeping my hands behind my back as best as I could. My whole arm was starting to go numb, but I wasn't about to give her a chance to grab my hand.

"Thank you, Corporal McDaur'n." She smiled, stepping forward and trying putting her hand in the middle of my chest. I shifted and her hand landed on my damaged shoulder.

Her hand was warm through my winter BDU's, but that cold icicle speared into the joint seemed to get colder. Warmth started to spread from her hand, but when the icicle slid into my flesh the warmth ebbed away and the metal implants the surgeons had put into my shoulder as well as the staples in my flesh all turned to chips of ice.

"That's not my name, Private McCullen," I reminded her.

Something flickered in her eyes and I smiled at her.

"Take the rest of the day off to relax and do your paperwork. Let your family know that you arrived safely after you fill out your will. Remember you can't say what unit you are in and need to refer to our cover unit, and make sure that the return address you write on the envelope matches the instructions in your briefing packet," I told her, looking down at her and keeping my face expressionless. I ignored the painful pins and needles feeling spreading out from where her hand was, controlling my breathing the same way I did during a marathon. I embraced the pain from my shoulder, letting it flow through me and wash away the warmth of her touch.

...the ants go marching one by one...

Something flickered in the depths of those too wide eyes and I smiled coldly in response. The lizard hissed, his clawed fingers pressed on a red button, his tail flicking in reptilian pleasure at whatever was in Aine's eyes. Something he understood, even if I didn't.

"Of course, Corporal McDaur'n," she said, lowering her eyes again. Her meek posture didn't fool me, and I glared at her for moment.

"It's Stillwater now, Hannah," I reminded her. She just smiled shyly and nodded, still looking at me through her eyelashes.

She didn't fool me for a second. Everything she did was carefully planned to gauge the reactions she got from me, to see how I reacted to stimulus. She was observing me like a science experiment, gathering data, all to use against me.

"Specialist Nagle, a word?" It was more an order than a request as I walked past her and out of Aine and Lank's room, almost hitting Lanks with the door.

"Problems, Stillwater?" Lanks asked, smiling through a yawn.

"Mind your business," I snarled, and Lanks stepped back, surprised by the harshness of my voice. "Follow me, Specialist Nagle."

Nancy was silent as we left Titty Territory via the halfway double doors, as we went into the center stairwell and slowly walked up to the landing between the first and second floors. Below us, in the darkness, was the ground floor landing, with the War Fighter Tunnels access door behind the stairwell, and the hallway where I'd lain in the cold.

"Ant, wait..." Nancy said when I turned around and saw her holding up her hand. I clenched my jaw and nodded and she continued. "I don't know what the fuck just happened. When I was in her room, after you walked in on us, all I could think of was tearing you a new asshole as soon as I got a chance, or maybe tearing off your clothing and holding you down so McCullen and I could take turns using you. All I could think of was sex, but when we walked out of her room it was like my head cleared up." She looked up at me, the plea missing from her tone and expression plainly visible in her eyes. "I've never felt anything like it. When I kissed her all I could think of was tearing her clothing off and burying my face in her muff and never coming up for air. I don't expect you to..."

Holding up my hand to stop her, I let out a deep breath and relaxed. "I understand."

"You do?" She sounded shocked.

"I've known her since I was in grade school," I told her. "You think I don't know what she's capable of? I'm ugly, not dumb." She giggled, covering her mouth.

"You're not mad?" she asked me, stepping into me and wrapping one arm around my waist, looking up at my face.

"No. Kiss?"

She kissed me, long and slow, and when she pulled back she bit my lip before pulling her head away.

I kissed her again, holding tight to her. She melted against me for a long moment, and when I went to break the kiss, she bit my lip again.

...my Nancy...

"Is there anything I should know about you two?" Nancy asked as we headed up the stairs, back to our room. I shrugged. "Don't gimme that shit, Stillwater, there's something going on between you two, and I think I should know. Hell, what was that she was calling you? What is going on with you two?"

"She's a fucking menace," I told her, pushing open the door to Hammerhead Hall. Nancy followed me, asking me what I meant, what was with the names Aine/Hannah kept calling me, but I ignored her questions as I headed to the Mag Office. I opened it to find Stokes and Bomber sitting on the floor with the contents of the emergency medical supply locker spread out around them while they went through the checklist of items that was supposed to be stored in the locker.

"Hey, brother," Bomber said, waving us over.

"Where's Sheldon?" I asked, irritated that he wasn't there.

"Sent him down to the LT to get Parker's room number. I figured you might want to check his room for him," Bomber admitted. "He was up here like two goddamn minutes and I wanted to punch his lights out."

"That's fine," I said. "I'm gonna smack that bitch's teeth out at the rate he's going." I moved over and sat behind my desk. "His little attitude is starting to get on my last nerve." I pulled open the drawer, scooped out the bottle, and set it on my desk.

"He still yammering on how he's due the respect of his former rank?" Nagle asked, pulling open the file cabinet and grabbing four plastic glasses out of it. She tossed them to me one at a time before pulling a six-pack of Coke out of the drawer. It was cliché as hell, but clichés exist for a reason. We stored the liquor and the accessories in the file cabinet under 'D' for drinking. A cheap joke, but one that still amused us.

On Alfenwehr you took what you could get.