The Longest Day

Featuring the following NPCs:
images-1-2.jpg - Aengus McMinnon
Andre.jpg - Andre Heintz
098Abbildung60.jpg - 'Finder'

Originally Posted by Javier Costala/03-30-2009 07:08:46 PM

-Aft Lounge-
-Deck 14, Gamma Section-

"I thought you said a suicidal king was wild?" Aengus protested, holding the card a few inches from BHP's face. "This a suicidal king. See. Sword to the head. Which means I just got double fizzbean. I win. My chips.." The security officer threw the card down on the table and reached out his hand to grab the pile of chips in the middle of the table. A combat knife struck the table in front of his hand, causing McMennan to quickly jerk his hand back. Aengus stared at the quivering blade that had buried itself in the table where his hand might have been. He looked up at a grinning BHP.

"Why the hell did you do that? Are you crazy?" McMennan asked angrily. Both he and Pierce were dressed as paratroopers, and both had combat knives, except Pierce whose knife was stuck in the table.

"Because, it's not fizzbean. It's fizzbin," Ben explained, "and suicidal kings are only wild on Tuesday.." For some reason he felt like pushing Aengus just so he could see how the officer would react.

"It is Tuesday!"

"Oh, did I say Tuesday? I meant Thursday.." Pierce said, grinning at McMennan. "Yeah, must have meant Thursday. Sorry Aengus, you didn't get double fizzbin, better luck next time." Ben plucked his knife from the table, sheathed it and reached for the chips. Aengus' hand grabbed his arm.

"Those are mine." McMennan's eyes narrowed to slits. "You cheated."

Ben knew he was wrong but he would not relent. "Remember what I told you the last time you put your hand on me?" The Iotian wanted a reason to obliterate the officer. There was an anxiety behind the need to fight Aengus, a nervousness that consumed him. He had to shake it off, to fight the feeling of not being in control. Waiting for the mission was almost as bad as the mission itself. At that moment Pierce didn't give a damn about the mission or about cooperation with Aengus. Commander S'Van could go to hell as far as he was concerned.

"The chips are mine," Aengus said stubbornly as he refused to move his hand. "You think you can just take whatever you want whenever you want and back it up with that tough guy demeanor."

Knowing he had Aengus on the brink of hitting him, Pierce said: "I can and I did, not much you can do about it, is there?" Ben saw the punch coming, it was easy to read McMennan. Ben hit Aengus with a hard right, falling back from the table as a blow struck him.

Both men were quick to stand. Aengus had a red spot on the side of his jaw. Ben blinked as his right cheek stung and his eye watered. "Fifty bucks says I can drop you like third period French," Pierce told Aengus.

Originally Posted by Simba Wekesa/03-31-2009 10:46:22 PM

Five miles northwest of Montauban, France
11:53 PM - Friday, June 2, 1944

Ensign Simba Wekesa felt the hard, metallic surface of the Chimera's transporter pads give way to soft, damp earth as he materialized at the landing site in central France. His boots sank slightly into the ground under the combined weight of the young officer, his gear, and the heavy parachute pack. The fully-deployed parachute caught the light breeze and fluttered overhead for a few seconds as it slowly sank down to the ground.

Simba grasped the buckles on his chute and quickly detached the bulky straps from his shoulders, looking around him as the heavy cords dropped to the ground. The moon was nearly full and cast a cool glow over the stillness of the field. They had landed near the edge of a fallow field, just a few meters from the tree line and far enough outside of town to avoid any German patrols. The field was silent save for the sounds of insects in the summer night. Freed from the constraints of the parachute, Simba started to walk across the bare earth towards Commander Finn, who had materialized several meters to his right.

=/\=Insertion successful, Colthurst out=/\=, "Right," Finn/Colthurst unfastened the chute as if he'd just landed and started bundling it up, "now's the fun part," he'd taken on a middle-class London dialect even before the transporter had taken hold, "time to bury these…" he did a quick 360 and pointed towards a clump of brush, "under there. You're with me, Mal?" he addressed Wekesa by the nickname Harry had almost immediately fallen into during their hours of training.

"Yes, Commander," Simba replied instinctively. Too Starfleet. Get in character. "Err, let's do it," he added, trying to enunciate the accent he'd wasted so many years learning to hide. He grabbed hold of the parachute cables and pulled the crumpled mass of fabric along with him as they trudged towards the tree line. "I don't see any of the markers around here, George, did we miss the target?"

"Well, that's the thing about dropping out of a plane in the middle of the night, old man," 'George' was really getting into character as he dragged his black parachute towards the treeline, "a fellow's aim tends to be reminiscent of his first go at a willing lass, doesn't it?"

"Speak for yourself… if that were true, I'd have landed in the signal fire," Simba replied with a wink, trying not to crack up at Finn's newfound expressions. He might not be comfortable with Finn, but Malik certainly was with George, so he made up his mind to at least make an effort at friendly banter and jibes. It was a fine line to walk, but one he could deal with if… when they were safely back aboard the Chimera. He pushed aside some fallen branches as they arrived at the brush and began to stuff the parachute in amongst the leaves.

"I say, Mal, were you planning on leaving Jerry a trail of breadcrumbs to follow us by?" Harry hissed, still in the 'priggish zone,' "Or perhaps you'd like to give actually burying the evidence of our arrival a go?" He tossed a small spade from his pack at the younger man then turned his eyes over the area once again, drawing his sidearm, the M23… though the Smith & Wesson was close to hand as well. "And let's do remember, should there be any uninvited guests at this particular party, Mister Reasonable is not at home."

"Right, sorry." Simba set to work with the spade, frowning at the realization of just how long it would take to dig a hole large enough to conceal the parachute. Fortunately, the ground was soft and fairly easy to move. "Where do you reckon we are relative to the rendezvous coordinates?" he asked after digging for a few minutes.

"With luck," and the Tommy Jenkins finessing the transport, "no more than half a klick south, southwest." He kept watch as he whispered to his partner, "but sometimes the locals aren't in the right space, either, then it's a mad dash for the crates, trying to get everything and everyone under cover before the sun rises or a patrol wanders through." At least, that's what the background materials indicated. Glancing down at the furiously working Wekesa, he felt, for the first time, a stab of genuine fear. Not that he didn't think the kid could handle himself… as long as he stopped treating George like some distant ogre of an officer, anyway… he just didn't know how they'd work together. With Jav, well, he knew going in that neither would ever understand a word the other was saying but when the shit hit the fan, they'd both know the target. Same, pretty much with Nils, but possibly there'd be less laughing. Wendy was always good to have at his back but now…

"There, better?" Simba pushed the chute into his newly-formed trench, then spread the loose earth back over it and covered the whole area with the leaves and brush that surrounded it so as to hide any signs of its recent disturbance. He looked over at Finn, who'd been quietly watching him work, wondering what the older man was thinking. He probably didn't trust him, or at the very least considered him unproven. The Commander didn't exactly have a reputation for being the friendliest guy on the ship, and Simba figured he would probably much rather have been paired with someone other than the Chimera's greenest tactical officer. He forced himself to smile, brushing the dirt off his hands as he stood up. Somehow, he was going to have to earn Finn's respect, or they would never be able to pull off the rapport that Jawara and Colthurst had… the rapport that they needed to have.

Harry glanced down at the shrubbery then, with only a slight pause, gave a short nod, "Spot on. Now, do me a hitch of a favor, then would you, Mal?" his eyes sought Wekesa's and, in the light of the moon which was almost directly above, his expression was deadly serious, "Duck." Not waiting to see if the kid listened, the older man dove into the brush even as a shot cracked the night air, sending a flurry of birds to wing. The shot was followed by a string of curses, English and French, as the tall XO reappeared, shoving a smallish man before him, "Je suis Anglaise," he was saying, between random epithets, "calm your bloody self down or you'll have every Nazi within ten miles on our asses…Malik," he jerked the Frenchman to a halt, though he kept his weapon trained on the fellow, "deal with him."

Stunned by the sudden outburst of action, Simba pushed himself up from the bushes he had dove into for cover and looked over the man Finn was holding by the collar. "Je m'appelle Malik Jawara. Cet homme est mon associé, Major George Colthurst, de la S.O.E. Anglaise. Nous sommes ici pour le rendez-vous avec la résistance locale… pour prevenir le mouvement des divisions de Panzer."

The man calmed down slightly as he listened to Lt. Jawara. He glanced nervously back and forth between the two men. "If you are S.O.E., then why are you so far south?"

"The wind blew us off course. We saw the signal fire on our way down… maybe half a klick northeast of here?" Simba threw in some extra details, trying to make their story more convincing, and hoping that Finn's guess as to their relative position was at least somewhat accurate.

The Frenchman nodded. Apparently, it was at least somewhat believable. If he was truly resistance, after all, he should be expecting them. "You are both from the S.O.E.?"

"No, I'm a French citizen and an officer with the Senegalese Riflemen. Who are you with? What is your name?"

The Maquisard looked over his shoulder at Finn before looking back to Wekesa, clearly uncertain of how much to trust them though decidedly less terrified than he had appeared when Finn first hauled him out of the trees. But then, they certainly didn't look or act like Nazis. "My name is Jean-Pierre Montand… I can take you to the Armée Secrète. We have been expecting you both based on the radio transmission we received earlier."

Simba looked past Montand at Finn. "He says he is with the A.S. He can take us to their leaders."

"How very… appropriate." If anyone were looking carefully, they might have caught the amused twinkle in the Major's blue eyes, for about half a second. "Do, let's move along. But just to be clear, if Monsieur Montand moves in any way I do not like…" he left the threat hanging and, though it wasn't spoken in French, Finn had no doubt that the professed maquisard understood every word.

Simba nodded in reply to Finn and turned his attention back to the Frenchman. He cleared his throat, choosing his words carefully. Finn could handle the threatening for both of them, he figured he would try a more tactful approach. "S'il vous plaît, Monsieur…" He gestured towards the rendezvous point. "Après vous."

Italicized text indicates spoken French.

A joint post with Commander Harry Finn

Originally Posted by Jenny Anderson/04-1-2009 11:34:40 AM

::USS Chimera::
::Aft Lounge - Deck 14/Gamma Section::

She'd just made it to the entrance of the lounge and was wondering if it were tacky to order a hot chocolate right before she was to take the place of a girl who'd been living on rations for years… if you have to ask the question… when the sounds of two familiar.. and angry.. voices, put her on alert. "Awwwww… merde," she hissed as Ben and Aengus, on the far side of the room, tossed simultaneous punches across a table, sending each other briefly to the floor of the lounge. Xer looked as if he were about to call in Security but Jenny shook her head at the small man, tossing him her shawl and blessing the fact that she was now wearing the infinitely more sensible shoes Kal-El had given her. Even as she approached, the two soon-to-be paratroopers popped back up with fists raised and eyes locked on each other.


"Dude, who are you kidding?" Aengus said, "You haven't got five dollars, let alone fifty." He feinted with a left and threw a right punch. BHP ran into his fist face-first and staggered back. McMennan was a little surprised and began to feel good about his chances. He decided to taunt the Iotian. "What? Tough gangster got punched by the academic..oof." Pierce had kicked him in the stomach with the toe of the stiff leather combat boot. Aengus went to his knees feeling like he was going to be sick. He looked up to see BHP cock his fist.

Even as Ben's attack commenced, Jenny stepped into its path and, with surprising gentleness, enveloped his moving left arm with her own. Using the young man's momentum, she twisted her hips so that Ben was pulled forward and down and Jenny encouraged that descent with a shove from her right hand to his shoulder blade. Taking care not to torque his elbow, she released Pierce to gravity's care, then the crewman continued her spin to face the rising tide of pissed off Aengus. He was still looking a bit shaky so Jen grabbed some uniform, put a heel on his instep and an elbow in his throat: "Please don't make me break your nose, sir," she said quietly, in the tone of voice Chief Ellison often used, "Or maybe you want the bartender to call Jameson in," she turned her attention to Ben, "so you two can spend the last few hours before we insert in lockup?"

He'd tried to slow the punch when he saw Jenny but it was too late. Ben was surprised when she caught his arm and put him down. Damn, her training is paying off. the Iotian realized as he bought some carpet. He almost laughed when he heard her threaten to break Aengus' nose. "Crewman," BHP started then realized he'd pulled rank on Jenny, "Anderson..Jenny, Aengus and I were working out a disagreement we need to get violent." The irony of his words was not lost on Ben and he gave Jenny a lopsided grin as he stood up.

"Yes, disagreement, no need to break..nose," Aengus huffed after dry heaving.

Men. Jenny released Aengus and gave him an absent pat on the shoulder before remembering she wasn't in his good graces. She quickly turned her attention to fussing with a loose thread on her dress because she wanted to fuss over Ben's injuries and that would probably just annoy Aengus more. "I guess it's nerves," she said to her pocket, before looking up at the foolish grin on Ben's face. "But you're good now… right? Both of you? It's just, it'd kind of suck to have history go apeshit because you two were doing the Nazis work for them…"

"Aw c'mon, that was a low blow," Ben said as he looked at the floor and shook his head. "We ain't gonna let those four-flushers win by disagreeing about something like who gets to buy the cute French girl a drink." He let these words sink in then continued. "Like you said, nerves, but last one standing gets to buy," BHP started towards the bar. He turned back to grasp Jenny's arms and gently pull her with him. "That's you..last one standing." The Iotian charm was back in full effect. "Aeng? Want something?" he said to the officer who looked a little green around the gills. McMennan shook his head and took a seat at the table, inhaling loudly.

"I kicked him hard," BHP said regretfully. His cheek throbbed and Ben touched it gingerly. "He'll get over it."

"I guess," Jenny replied, though she privately doubted it was the kick which was keeping the officer away just now. As long as he and Ben are solid, it doesn't matter what he thinks of me… Tearing her eyes from the hunched figure of her one-time friend, she offered Ben a smile, "So… what are you drinking, soldier?"

"Raktajino. Commander S'Vann said no alcohol before the mission." Ben thought for a moment then added, "But he also said no fighting either so I guess one gin and tonic won't hurt nobody.." Once they reached the bar, BHP took the opportunity to trap Jenny by standing behind her and placing his arms on either side of her. Leaning forward and sliding his hands along the bar, Ben caught Jenny in the middle of the tightening circle. "Or we could skip the drinks and find somewhere we"

She felt her breath catch as his arms closed in. “I…ummm… I…” can’t remember how to talk. His sudden, proprietary embrace shot her senses into overdrive; a provocative tremolo of heat and excitement with the smallest, strangely seductive, skittering of fear. “Darby is on Alpha,” she managed, twisting so that her eyes were wide on his as she struggled with all that this man, from a world so unlike her own, made her feel.

Ben was drawn in by Jenny's wide eyed stare. Her gray eyes beckoning to him so he forgot they were in the lounge and that there were people around. His hand brushed her auburn hair away from her face. He tilted her head back ever so slightly as his head moved downward and his lips brushed against Jenny's. A snort from behind them, coming from the direction where Aengus was seated made Ben move his lips to Jenny's ear. "I guess we should go to your quarters," he whispered as his arms wrapped around her waist.

The sound of Aengus’ disgust had Jenny closing her eyes, even as Ben’s whisper evoked the promise of time, short though it may be, together before…

“Yes,” she agreed. “Just… hold on one second.” Not waiting for a response, she extricated herself and dashed across the lounge to where McMennan was slumped. Keeping her back to the bar, Jenny spoke a few, quiet words to him, then ran back to where Ben waited and took his hand. “Let’s go,” she told him, pulling towards the door. She didn’t want to waste a moment of the precious hours they had remaining.

He waited until they were in the corridor, walking fast to keep pace with Jenny, before phrasing the question. "What did you say to Aengus?"

"I told him to be careful down there," she said, quite truthfully, "and that I expected both of you to come back all in one piece."

Two guys, a gal and a fisticuffs…

Originally Posted by T'Shaini/04-1-2009 10:59:50 PM

USS Chimera
Deck 14

T'Shain, no…Marie… walked into the holding area with a confident air. The counselor had modified her own walk, knowing the long legged lope that she had developed over the years would be…unseemly, in her current attire. If nothing else, the bottom of the skirt was not wide enough to accommodate her accustomed stride. PADD still clutched in her hand, Marie made her way through the camp-like atmosphere of the cargo bay seeking Nils. He was not replacing a person, but rather assuming a persona so that he could protect Andre Heintz. They had decided to use his given name, it was common enough…if Nordic in origin, but since a group known as the Vikings had over run the area several centuries before (according to Kerrin) the name was not going to draw any undue attention. The cells knew little to nothing outside their own people for security reasons, so as long as someone of Marie's stature vouched for him, there should be no trouble having him gain acceptance…or so they hoped.

It took a while to spot the brooding Bajoran in his 20th century civilian gear, but it suited him. It seemed to suit all of the men, they all looked…dashing, was the word that came to mind. 'Marie' dropped the PADD on a table that was covered with other discarded ones, clearly she had not been the only one wishing to get a last few moments of study time. Time to lose the training wheels… As if fell from her hand, Marie pulled herself up, shrugging her suit jacket into place and letting the world they were about to enter settle in. Marie rubbed her hand across the St. Christopher medal she wore on a chain around her neck that housed her translator. She had thought it fitting when she read the history associated with him, the patron saint of travelers. She looked down once again on the inscription that had drawn her in. 'Regarde St Christophe et va-t-en rassuré…Look at St Christopher and go on reassured.' And feeling the metal beneath her fingers and the strength emitted from the man she was to accompany…she was.

Originally Posted by Javier Costala/04-2-2009 12:27:45 AM

::Half an Angel above Normandy::
::12:34AM, June 6, 1944::

So much depended on color. Particularly on the color green. Green means go. Green means 'good to go'. Green meant flinging yourself out of a door into the maw of metal death that the skies above Normandy had become. Lieutenant Malcolm Branden watched the small light next to the door. The airplane shuddered violently as exploding shells flung shrapnel into the fuselage. The sound of the metal fragments tearing through the fuselage was unnerving but the officer concentrated on the light. The seventeen men behind him, his 'stick', would follow Branden out the door without hesitation. Fear would try to keep them in the plane but discipline, and the leadership of their platoon CO, would carry them through.


Branden pushed himself forward, propelling his weight and the seventy extra pounds of gear he was carrying through the C-47's door. Behind him, there was a flash of heat and an explosion that deafened the paratrooper. Smoke choked him, as it enshrouded Malcolm, then was torn away by the rushing air. He looked up in time to see the C-47 explode in a fireball. Heat blasted over the lieutenant and he knew that his parachute line had been incinerated. He was free-falling.

Hours of training saved Branden. He yanked on the ripcord of his secondary 'chute and felt the jerk as the air caught the silk and saved his life. His rate of descent was fast, even faster because he pulled on the guidelines and steepened the angle to get away from the murderous flak. His minute of hang time had been cut to forty-three seconds. There were no lights on the ground. All the men in his 'stick' had been killed. The paratrooper hoped that he wouldn't hit any trees..or worse yet, a building.

The ground came up much too quickly, luckily he'd seen the darker shadows of the trees on the horizon. The officer rolled into the landing, falling as soon as his feet hit the ground. The force of his landing knocked the breath out of him and the paratrooper lay on the ground, looking up at the sky above, waiting as he processed what had happened within the minute and a half that he'd been in France.

Keep thinking those good thoughts Lia, 'Lt. Malcolm Branden' silently prayed as he stared up at the sky, wondering how many times his angel's good thoughts had saved his life during the jump. He waited, listening for any sound of anyone who might be an ally. Beyond the night sounds of the French countryside there was nothing, Javier realized that he was alone, just as Branden had been when the paratrooper landed in Normandy.

Originally Posted by Torrik Nils/04-3-2009 10:45:48 AM

:: USS Chimera / Gamma ::
:: Cargo Bay Deck 14 ::

The crowd thinned as mission specific personnel beamed into the past. Technically everyone already dwelled in 'the past', but Nils knew it wouldn't be real until they laid eyes on something completely archaic and out of time's proper sequence. He didn't look forward to the feeling, especially considering what he'd read of this period in Earth's history. The notion that a species he'd come to respect (and in some cases absolutely love) could be capable of such darkness troubled him. But it also impressed him. The people of Earth were so diverse and filled with such potential, it was no wonder they were the catalyst for what became the United Federation of Planets.

"Torrik to the bridge," the Captain-out-of-uniform said as he tapped the pocket watch Kowalski had rigged for him. Since he was playing a civilian, the dog tags didn't work in his case. "Get me Alpha section."

=/\= Aye, sir, =/\= came T'Preen's instant reply.

Moments later Tenanji responded. =/\= Chimera/Alpha… =/\=

"Lt. what's the status of your pursuit?" The young CO couldn't bring himself to leave the ship until he knew what was going on elsewhere in the sector 001.

=/\= As we expected, the Anomaly broke orbit from Earth and is in flight from the system's core. We are maintaining distance and Beta is 'herding' the timeship past Jupiter at present. Until we are more familiar with the ship's capabilities we have chosen not to engage. =/\= Tenanji's utter calm and cool comforted Nils. He knew the situation was well in had.

"Good work, Usher. Keep them on the run… Torrik out," he finished with a sigh. He couldn't help feeling like he was leaving his ship at the absolute worst time. His place was on the bridge, and at this point he'd take any one of the three bridges Chimera had to offer. Vail was right. Somehow the Captain's Chair had snagged him.

"Nils." Marie/T'Shaini interjected softly. "It is time for us to depart."

"Right," said the Bajoran just as softly. He took a deep breath and gathered up his supplies. As he stood, he smiled at T'Shaini. "This should be quite an adventure, yes?" Though his enthusiasm was synthetic, he felt it necessary.

Leading the way toward the cargo transporter 'Marie' smiled over her shoulder. "Yes..adventure is a word you could use." Stepping up on the pad, she nodded first to Lottz, then glanced over at Nils. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be," he answered letting the cliche rule his tongue in a time of uncertainty. He took one last look over his ship, which he barely knew, and then nodded at Lottz. "Engage…"

::In a forest outside of Caen::

"Nils?" It was pitch black, she had never been so far from artificial light…it was incomprehensible. But, oh my…the stars, not that she was not used to the way they looked through a viewport, but there was something about seeing them from here, in the past. Marie straightened her jacket, as her eyes became accustomed to the dark a figure appeared beside her.

"I'm here," he answered, his voice filled with awe. Noisy insects and a slight breeze made their landing ultimately surreal. The crisp smell of soil and foliage evoked a sense of terrestrial wonder. And real gravity gave him a heady sense of apprehension. "T'Shai… Marie, I would say that our journey has begun."

A JP by Nilshaini…indeed the journey has finally begun…

Originally Posted by Jenny Anderson/04-3-2009 12:28:01 PM

::14.8 Miles Northwest of Evreux::
::6:37 AM - Sunday, June 4, 1944::

“Wo ist er?” the demand cracked through the early morning mist, disturbing the chickens and eliciting a troubled lowing from the turgid cows waiting in the dairy barn.

Don’tmovedon’tmovedon’tmove….the words were a constant buzz inside her head and, for all the breath-stealing terror of the moment, the girl couldn’t help wondering if the Germans would hear that buzz from where the small patrol quartered the farmstead. They were, she knew, looking for the man who huddled, bleeding, beside her. The two were half submerged in the fetid water of a drainage ditch, sheltered beneath thickly overhanging grasses and clumps of cowslip. Only ten yards distant, the sounds of boots crushing the early potato plants assaulted the pair’s ears and the man next to her tried to still his breathing, which carried the pained catch of his wounds.

“Wo ist er?” the demand was repeated and then, “The American… he was wounded… shot by my men.” Shot as he and two others parachuted into a nearby meadow. Two who were dead by the time they landed but one had escaped. “He could not have come far from his landing place…”

“I don’t know,” Benoit de Rouen, his eyes gone white with cataracts, insisted. “Certainly I have seen no Americans…”

“Aha… a joke*.” The German officer glanced to one of his men and gave a short nod. The man saluted and made for one of the outbuildings… the one which held the ancient Citroen, which Benoit could no longer drive. “But you would have heard one, yes?” Cold eyes scanned the farmland… pasturing for the cows, some early wheat and rye and the small patches devoted to root vegetables. “It is quiet, here… you, would have heard a strange voice. Or perhaps your daughter…”

“My daughter is not at home,” Benoit said calmly.

“She left you alone?” The German asked, “Sie ist eine arme Tochter,” he announced loudly. “A poor daughter, to leave her blind father so…”

In the waters, she felt a hand, cold and clammy, grip her arm and understood. The Bosche thought Lissete was nearby… that she would respond to the taunt.

“She is a good child,” de Rouen replied, “who knows her duty.”

Footsteps closed in on the hidden pair and their eyes locked to one another, waiting.

Moments passed… a whiff of smoke from a cigarette filtered down to tickle their throats… there was no retreating of the heavy boots but also no harsh demands to stand and surrender.

“If she knows her duty,” the officer told Benoit as his corporal returned, bearing a rusty can of petrol, “she will come when you call.”

“I cannot call her,” the Frenchman declared quietly, “she is gone to Parville and will not hear.”

“What a pity,” the officer gestured and the corporal began to douse the seemingly complacent blind man with the fuel he carried. “Tell me, mademoiselle,” his voice cut through the morning, “do you truly know your duty?” When there was no response, he waved towards his company, “Jeder zu mir!” The officer watched quietly

At that last, barked, order, the boots, which the girl could see through the mass of grasses, finally turned away but the relief that absence brought was short-lived. From where they hid, slowly allowing themselves to breathe, once more, the pair heard Benoit’s determined sounding of La Marseillaise…

“Allons enfants de la Patrie,
Le jour de gloire est arrivé !
Contre nous de la tyrannie,
L'étendard sanglant est leveveeeeeaahhAAAHHH ….”

Not far away, in the chill clutches of the ditch, the girl remained hidden. Shuddering uncontrollably, she held fast to the soldier, who had gone so very still even as Benoit de Rouen’s song had ended. “Je sais mon devoir,” she whispered through chattering teeth, while the rasping cough of engines catching spoke of the German patrol’s departure. “I know my duty.” But for all the surety in her voice, gray eyes turned up to the blue of the morning sky, trying to draw strength from the one she fought for… who had yet to touch this ancient world's horror. Trying to hold onto her reason.

Originally Posted by Harry Finn/04-5-2009 12:30:24 AM

2.7 miles northwest of Montauban, France
1:17 AM - Saturday, June 3, 1944

As Montand held up his hand, Finn and Wekesa again came to a halt. The trek to the A.S. headquarters outside Montauban was taking a good part of the night. At first, Finn had thought they’d just meet the rest of the party at the original rendezvous point but their Gallic guide assured them that, by the time the trio arrived, all the crates of supplies, which had been dropped out of the same plane that Jawara and Colthurst had jumped from, would have been packed in ‘Old Fournier’s excuse for a truck’ and hauled to the Demarais farm. The land and its buildings had been abandoned since the Demarais brothers were taken in the Labor Draft, two years back.

“Bad for the brothers,*” Jean-Pierre whispered as they slid from shadow to shadow in the woods, “good for the maquis.

Which made perfect sense. But as far as Harry was concerned, and he was pretty sure George would have been on the same page, until they made contact with the maquis cell, he was keeping their guide well within his sights. While it wasn’t odd to find a member of the maquis working a perimeter, it was odd for said member to be surprised by the appearance of the agents his cell was expecting that very night.

And it was, to Harry, exceedingly odd that Montand, a patriot and self-professed member of the Arme´e Secr’ete, who claimed to know two operatives would be making the drop, would be so quick to aim his weapon at the men he’d seen burying their parachutes only two meters away from where the maquisard had been secreted. And that gun had been drawn… drawn and pointed… when Finn made the dive into the brush. As far as Harry was could see, Montand meant to shoot first and apologize, later.

His eyes slid to Wekesa as they began to move again. In the dappled moonlight which filtered through the branches, the young officer looked as if he thought nothing about the Frenchman untoward. But then, he was young; in years and the kind of experience which had honed Harry’s instincts to a paranoid point.

Once again, Montand signaled them to wait while he crept forward to reconnoiter a small road and Harry, determined that Simba should live long enough to develop a usefully suspicious nature, moved closer to his fellow time traveler. After making sure they were still alone, he leaned in to Wekesa’s ear, “I have doubts as to Jean-Pierre’s sincerity,” he whispered, in Colthurst’s mode of speech. He then placed his right hand on Jawara’s holster and drew the Lieutenant’s own sidearm, holding it out for the young man to take. As the weapon remained in his hand, unclaimed, he added, “We have no friends, here. We may have allies but they are not our friends and we can trust no one.” And it wasn’t only George who had learned that particularly painful lesson, when a colleague turned out to be an enemy agent.

“This isn’t a suggestion, Malik,” Colthurst’s quiet voice continued, but with Finn’s steel beneath. “You must be prepared…" And in the deepening gloom of the forest, as the moon moved towards the west and Montand out of view, both the order and the gun hovered in the chill night air, waiting for a response.

*Italics indicate spoken French.

Originally Posted by T'Shaini/04-5-2009 03:30:39 PM

Outside of Caen, France

The forest seemed to become more and more dense, rather than starting off in the thick and moving toward open farmland, it seemed as if they were doing quite the reverse. Marie checked her compass once again, then back to the map. "I believe the shack where the operatives are located should be very near." She felt rather than saw Nils nod. "A click or less south west, which unfortunately seems to be lacking in anything resembling a clear path." Grateful for her stout boots, Marie began to break through the bramble in the direction indicated.

"As laborious as this is," he said while forcing himself into a cluster of thick underbrush, "there is a certain satisfaction in," another strain of momentum, "forging your own path." A light mist coalesced into thick droplets on the leaves overhead and dripped down on the two undercover Starfleet officers as they made their way forward. The wet mingled with beads of sweat and left them both drenched. "At least the weather is cooperating," he added with a genuine smile.

"If nothing else, it would be difficult to find us in this…then again, it makes it difficult for us to find anything either." She pulled a strand of wet hair from her face. "We are still on track according to the compass." T'Shaini pulled up short and faced Nils. "Now granted, it is unlikely anyone can overhear us out here, and Marie…I have never been to this outpost so it is in keeping with our situation that we are looking…but should we, from here on out, speak only as Marie and Nils…other Nils?"

"I think that would be the most prudent choice," the Bajoran lamented. Getting 'into character' and playing the role of someone other than himself felt somehow…disingenuous. "It is a necessary precaution. How do you think this cell will respond to us? I'm unfamiliar with the human psyche during this period."

"Luckily my name will be known to them, and the credentials I carry should get us through the initial suspicion, and we have vital information for them that they cannot afford to disregard." Though her Vulcan ears were disguised it did not in any way alter her keen hearing. "What was that?"

"I didn't hear any…" But the sudden sound of something halted him mid-sentence. A faint rustling shuffled the undergrowth somewhere off to their right. Nils put his finger to his mouth and slowly ducked into the brush indicating that 'Marie' should do the same. The rustling stopped momentarily then resumed almost as if the mysterious entity sensed their trepidation. Nils drew his weapon.

Marie, following Nils, ducked behind a tree…the sound was getting closer, but she rested her hand on Nils arm in what she hoped was a cautionary way, it could be an enemy, it could be someone from their cell…

The faint sound suddenly became a virtual roar as a rush of broken limbs and trampled ground echoed towards them. Whoever it was had decided to charge them. Nils stood up quickly and leveled his weapon. One final crash of greenery revealed their attacker. And the young CO in disguise released a sigh…


The loud bleating noise made 'Marie' jump even more than if an armed attacker had leapt from the brush. "What…what is that?" She finally managed, watching the small animal blunder around the underbrush, screaming for attention.

Quickly Nils whipped out his 'cigarette case' and slid the face open to reveal a standard tricorder screen. His heart pounded in reaction to being startled as he quickly scanned the quadruped. "It could be some kind of biological weapon…" His tone was deadly serious. The scans indicated nothing dangerous. "Evidently not," he conceded with a relieved sigh. He closed his Kowalski rigged tricorder and turned to 'Marie' with a serious look. "We were startled by some sort of jungle goat."

Marie peered down at the scruffy creature. "You create quite a bit of noise for such a small animal." She began to pat it on the head, then thought better of it after taking in the smell. "Alright, now that the jungle goat has been classified as a friendly, let us continue."

"Agreed," said Nils ignoring the distraction in favor of their mission. He pressed into the brush once again, with the Vulcan counselor at his side. It was not long before the Bajoran became aware of the tag along behind them, however. He paused and looked back just as the creature began nipping at his heels. Pushing it away lightly with his foot, he shuffled to a safer distance. It followed. "I think it likes…you."

"Me?" Marie looked back at the animal. "It seems to following you." Biting back a smile she moved ahead. "Just keep going, it is sure to become bored." She double checked the map. "Perhaps it belongs to someone out here?"

"Perhaps not," said an unfamiliar voice from the undergrowth. "These animals roam free here for hundreds of years."

Nils spun and lifted his weapon, his heart leaping into his chest. He casually folded the 'cigarette case' shut and stowed it in his pocket. The sudden appearance of someone other than T'Shaini, and the goat, gave him a turn. "Don't move," said the Captain sharply.

A young man stepped from the deeper shadows, dawn was beginning to break and when he stepped in his features were clearly visible. "Andre Heintz?" Marie asked, knowing the answer.

He started at her words and his hand slipped into his jacket pocket. Clearly he is armed. Verbally forestalling any rash action, Marie continued. "The forest is dangerous for those who have not been initiated."

"And often for those who have." The exchange of code phrases relaxed him slightly.

"I am Marie Dissard, information too important to be left to a courier must be relayed." His gaze warily swung toward Nils.

"And who is he?"

"Torrik Nils," he said, his tone cold. "That is… Nils… Torinsky," trying to correct the first of what he knew would be many errors on this clandestine mission. "I'm here to offer any aid that I can provide."

"We are here to meet you Andre," 'Marie' was wonderstruck that it could be so easy…which in all likelihood meant that this would be the end of their luck. "If you can guide us to the safe house we can lay plans for the next few days…it is coming." His eyes opened wide at her words, they had all known the allies were preparing to move, but had no idea that, given the weather, it could be so soon.

Trying to fade a little into the shadows, Nils surveyed his ward. Before him stood the man that he'd been sent back in time to protect. For the briefest of instants he calculated the sheer impossibility of this reality. A Bajoran from the distant future had somehow found his way into the past of 001's Earth to protect one man who for some reason bore weight in the grand scheme of the universe. This thought bolstered his faith. Nothing was ever a coincidence. "We should move to a safer location," he added quietly.

"We have been waiting for this for a long time," Andre said, excitement sparked in his young voice. "Follow me." And he headed off into the brush….slightly to the west of the direction Marie was going to take them. With an apologetic shrug to Nils, she followed him.

Nils quirked a half smile and took position at the tail of the small convoy. At least he thought he was last. A gently bleating quadruped followed behind him.

No, Nils…we cannot keep him

Originally Posted by Javier Costala/04-6-2009 01:57:04 AM

::Douve River Plains::
::June 6, 1944, 05:43::

He was being dragged through the water, arms flailing uselessly as the soldier fought to free himself of the silken deathtrap. Twisting as the strong wind carried the parachute through the swamp, Ben was pulled over a half sunken log. The parachute's lines caught on a limb and wound over it so that BHP's harness pushed him beneath the water. Bubbles of air burst from the Iotian's mouth and he swallowed some of the putrid water, fighting with his chute release as panic gripped him. The water was cold and dark. He couldn't see the release button and it was jammed. His arms felt sluggish, his fingers fumbled with the metal clip.

Knife. Must get..cut strings. The thought was born but his hands couldn't follow through. The water above him swirled and then Ben was hauled up and dragged onto a muddy bank. He coughed hoarsely, expelling the vile swamp water from his lungs.

"Ancient contraptions," Aengus cursed as he pulled Pierce up the muddy bank by the collar of his jacket. He'd managed to make a somewhat decent landing and then had wrestled with his chute in the muck of the swamp. Aengus had heard a yell then watched as Pierce or Sergeant Wade Devlin had been sucked down into the slimy water. Blindly running after BHP, Aengus had used his shovel, or what the soldiers of the day called an E-tool, to hack the entangled paratrooper free. "Almost drowned you."

"Yeah.." Ben wheezed, "..thanks." He coughed again then hit the release button on his harness to get away from the thing that had almost done him in. "Damn thing jammed." The clip wouldn't budge so Ben cut the harness away with his combat knife. He shed the harness and threw it into the swamp. The security officer did a quick weapons check. He had everything but the M1903 which had been attached to the front of his harness, and probably lay somewhere at the bottom of the swamp. "I lost the sniper rifle."

"I lost my rifle when we jumped," Aengus told Ben, "snaps broke. I have my M23 though."

Ben nodded. He had his phaser pistol too; and tucked into a shoulder holster was his Colt M1911 which he'd brought from home but was the type of pistol that American soldiers carried. He stood to his feet and crept up the bank pulling out the pistol and chambering a round as he went. "I guess we'll have to find some weapons."

"Maybe they have some we can use." Ben turned to look in the direction Aengus was pointing. A treeline beyond the bank held parachutes and dead men, swinging in the wind. Beyond the bank, to their far left was the wreckage of a flaming airplane. Corpses were scattered around the transport plane. The landscape was a vision from Hell. "There are some on the ground..near the others. Let's get what we need and then head towards the Lock," Pierce said, tearing his eyes away from the dead. Light was on the eastern horizon as the two men scavenged what they needed to complete their mission. Ben couldn't find a replacement for the M1903 so he helped himself to a M1 which he kept in its waterproof cover. He had his pack and his rifle's Unertl scope was inside, wrapped in the sweater Jenny had given him. Now to figure out how to attach it to another rifle, Pierce thought as he followed Aengus away from the LZ.

Originally Posted by Jenny Anderson/04-7-2009 08:51:08 AM

::14.8 Miles Northwest of Evreux::
::6:59 AM - Sunday, June 4, 1944::

Numb fingers, shivering with the cold of the water and the morning and the shocks therein, fumbled desperately with the foreign garment…

Jenny thumped a fist against his chest in giddy frustration, "How do you get this thing off?"

Chuckling as he reached for the buttons that were hidden beneath the flap of cloth, Ben's fingers nimbly unfastened the uniform jacket then leaned back on his knees so he could shrug out of it. The shirt followed the jacket, landing on the floor beside the bed. The white cotton undervest followed, so Ben could take Jenny's hand and place it on the muscles above his heart. "Feel that?"

Jenny’s hands and heart fumbled a beat, then she slid her fingers beneath the sopping wet strip of concealing material and, finding the buttons, began the painstaking process of freeing the sodden fastenings. It didn’t take long, though, she supposed, time no longer had any meaning for the man wearing the garment. The soldier, who’s name the young woman had yet to learn, had died before she could drag him out of the shallow waters of the ditch.

Once unfastened, Jenny, not thinking about what she was doing, skimmed through the inner pockets of the jacket and found his orders, safely sealed in a water- (and blood) proof pouch. Just as he’d told her she would. That packet, along with the pack she’d helped him hide before the two had taken refuge in the ditch, were the reasons Benoit de Rouen had died.

Pressing the jacket closed over the ruined torso, a glimmer caught her eye and Jenny reached down to lift up the dog tags. Driskill, Frank R, 37337566 O42 43… Laying them down, once more, Jenny’s hand brushed across his heart… which was…

”Feel that?” he asked as his heartbeat thundered at the touch of her hand on his bare skin.

“Oh… I mean… yes,” Jenny’s thoughts tried to stay with him, they did but she’d never actually… and there he was… beneath her hand and he was just so… “What?”

“My heart…”

… not beating.

Jenny gathered her thoughts to herself and made the young lieutenant as… proper… as she could. There was too much to be done and she dared not linger. Others would wonder, eventually, what had happened at the de Rouen farm. They would hear the cows or smell… smell the burning on the breeze. And the Germans who’d murdered Benoit might now consider Lissete to be a person of interest. She had to be well away before they thought to return in search of a grieving daughter; the girl who’s father had been burned to death…

Had S’Van known Benoit’s fate? Had he chosen her because of it? He was just cold enough, she thought. He might see the similarity between the fathers’ deaths, over four hundred years apart, as a link between the girls…

Rising, Jenny turned away from the dead soldier, gripping Driskill’s orders close as she faded into the forest. She needed to retrieve the plastique she and the lieutenant had hidden, along with her own, scant, supplies. The sun had risen enough to shoot brief spears through the mist but, for all the fire of the morning… she was still cold.

Originally Posted by T'Shaini/04-7-2009 10:15:45 PM

Southwest of Caen, France

'Et voici quelques messages personnel' T'Shaini/Marie repeated. "When the announcer says 'And here are some personal messages' the following phrases will be coded for us to know what our instructions are, understand." The two young men before her nodded. She shrugged off the damp and crouched down next to them keeping her voice low, they could not be too careful, the lean to had just been constructed before they had arrived to protect the equipment against the rain. It was feared that no matter how far the allies had come in their planning, this horrific weather would force a delay.

"So if you hear 'It is hot in Suez'?" Marie quizzed again.

"Green plan, attack on the rail road tracks and equipment." Andre quickly responded.

"The dice are on the table"

"Phone lines are to be cut….Red Plan." T'Shaini smiled at Giles who reddened under her gaze…they are so young.

"We know that on June first they played the first stanza to Chanson d'Automne, signalling that the attack is imminent. We must be alert to the second stanza, there must be two monitoring at all times…Nils and I will take shifts as well, to assure that it will not go unnoticed, for that will mean that the time has come." She heard their intake of breath, no matter how long they had waited for this moment, it was clear that something in them could scare believe that it would truly come. The silent presence of Nils, brow furrowed as he listened to her coach the young men and in that exchange little bits of their lives slipping out. The oppression of France by Nazi Germany was horrific under anyones standards, and the remarkable resilience of these freedom fighters, struggling in spite of their youth, the possiblility of the loss of their lives, the risk to their families, made this culture…this race…admirable beyond words. And it was their job to protect them, whether from Nazi's looking for the resistance or from Terra Prime, they could not fail.

"You are confident you can contact the men who will be dispatched to carry out the sabotage?"

"Yes, madam."

"Good." T'Shaini rose, wishing she had some dry clothes to change into, not that it would do me any good, and rested her hand on Giles shoulder. "We will take the first shift, Andre…you and Nils should get some rest, we will wake you in four hours." Her nose wrinkled as the smell hit her once again. "And Nils…could not the goat be left outside?"

Originally Posted by Javier Costala/04-8-2009 04:22:33 AM

::West of Picauville::
::June 6, 1945; 03:25::

"Goddamn sir it's good to see someone out here," Corporal Rice stated effusively, "I been crawlin' around in the woods, ain't seen no one from my stick and sure as hell hadn't seen anyone from my unit. Them damn pilots nearly got me killed zigzagging all around the sky, think they ran into the flak on purpose from the way they was flyin'." Javier, acting as Lt. Malcolm Branden, listened as the paratrooper quietly described how he'd gotten into Normandy. The corporal walked with a limp, having twisted his ankle on landing. The man was armed with a pistol and a bazooka and seemed to have most of his equipment intact. "Plane fell like a brick, me and the CO was near the door and fell out, luckily we was hooked on and our chutes opened."

"The other men in your stick?" Javier asked, even though he already knew the answer. He and the paratrooper were walking in a low gully, moving east towards the roadway along which General Klausen of the 91st Panzer Division would be travelling in a few hours.

"Reckon they bought the farm sir," the paratrooper answered, his head downcast, "I'll get some Krauts for 'em."

At least one. the engineer thought as he stepped over some stones and his boots sank into the soft, wet mud in the gully. A metallic sound in the ditch a few meters in front of the two soldiers brought the men to a halt. The sound repeated itself, almost questioning, expecting a reply. Javier stood ready, his M23 in his hands, he only had to bring the pistol up and fire in the vicinity that he'd heard the clicking sound.

A similar sound came from beside Javier except it was two clicks instead of one. He glanced over and saw that the paratrooper with him had a small 'clicker' in his hand. What is that? It looks like a toy..

"Hundred and first," a voice hissed from the gully.

"Eighty-second," Javier answered before using the paratrooper's call sign, "Flash."


"We're coming to you," the voice whispered. Three shadows moved towards Javier and took the form of paratroopers of the 101st Airborne. "Jesus, we're glad to see you guys," one of the newcomers said. All three of the men had M1 Garands and none of the soldiers were holding them carelessly. Javier could tell they were on edge. He couldn't really blame them, he felt nervous himself.

"Run in to any Krauts?" his companion asked the three.

"Heard some, big group moving south west," another of the 101st paratroopers replied. "We avoided them, figured we should get to our rally point then hit them when we're in force."

"Where's your rally point?" Javier inquired.

"Verville..I think we're off track though. Pilots couldn't find any beacons.."

"Wasn't my fault..they said there'd be beacons. Didn't say anything about fire or flak or shrapnel. There was too much fire so we veered off course, had to set her down in a field..rough, too goddamn rough, my copilot took one in the neck," a short, thin nervous soldier explained.

Javier had thought all the men were paratroopers but realized that one of them was the pilot of their C-47. "We're going to the Picauville roadway. My company is supposed to secure that section of the road and impede German reinforcements," the engineer told the soldiers. "Since I don't have a guys will have to do."

The new orders seemed to sit well with everyone but the pilot, who started to protest, complaining that he was not a paratrooper. Rice interupted him. "The lieutenant gave you an order, you're a soldier ain't you?" the corporal said in his Southern twang, "You're with the paratroopers now. Best follow orders so thangs won't get Fubar."

Originally Posted by Torrik Nils/04-9-2009 09:11:04 AM

:: Southwest of Caen, France ::

As per T’Shaini’s admonition, Nils escorted Pasteur outside the cabin. The Bajoran seemed more bothered by the move than the goat did. He’d never had a pet and in truth had no desire for one now, but the creature had taken a liking to him for some reason. And something about that endeared him to the Captain. Naming the thing Pasteur had been Nils’ weak attempt at humor.

“Are you a farmer?” Andre said stepping from the light of the cabin into the shadows of night.

“A farmer?” The question confused Nils. “No, I’ve never really farmed anything,” he answered surveying the tree line. He took his duty to protect Andre very seriously. And although he didn’t relish the idea, he knew his charge somehow bore a vital role for humanity’s future – and in turn the future of the galaxy. Again the young CO was overwhelmed at the complex insignificant minutia which blossomed into galactic influence over time.

“You do well by the goat,” the young Frenchman answered with a smile. “He seems to like you. Might I borrow a cigarette?”

“Borrow a… Oh,” exclaimed the Bajoran suddenly remembering his tricorder. He pulled the cigarette case out and opened it like Kowalski had showed him, this time revealing several actual and smokable cigarettes. He offered one to the young man, who settled on the porch next to him.

“You are a quiet one,” said the resistance member as he lit the carcinogen. “Perhaps the goat likes the peace you engender.”

“Perhaps,” agreed Nils as he watched Andre take a long drag on the rolled tobacco. “It is my understanding that cigarette smoking is not…the healthiest of habits.” A pang of regret suddenly hit him. What if he’d just changed all of galactic history by causing this man to become addicted to nicotine and thereby initiating an early death.

“My father quit smoking when the Occupation began,” the lithe young man said idly as he fingered the cigarette. “I, however, never did.” The Frenchman appeared lost in memory for a moment before continuing. “He gave up smoking to conserve money in order that our family would have food to eat. We farmed a little,” he said with a smile as he ran his hand down the goat’s neck. “I helped my father plant beans in a small plot outside of town.”

Nils missed everything past the first sentence. He mentally stuttered over the word ‘occupation’ used in a different context than the one he was most intimate with. Slowly his mind caught up with Andre and the rest of his story began to take shape. “Times have been hard?”

The Frenchman chuckled darkly. “Where have you been, Nils? Times are very hard… But soon… Hopefully soon the tide will turn. Marie has brought us great hope.”

“Of course,” answered Nils, feeling fully chastised. He tried to imagine what the people of France were going through since their own Occupation began. It wasn’t hard for him to picture. All he had to do was recall his own childhood and the devastation which had reigned down on his people and culture. The oppression of an imposing power had resulted in a resistance on his planet as well. He marveled at the similarities in sentient mentality – both in their capacity for good and evil. “How long have you been working with the resistance?”

Andre made a sound akin to one of Nils characteristic sighs and shook his head. “I’ve never had love for the Germans… My grandparents left our native homeland of Alsace in utter disgust of them when they annexed the province many years ago. And my father was driven from Burgundy by the Germans during the First World War. For my family to face Occupation by our national enemy once again is a humiliation too great to bear.” He took a slow and long drag on his cigarette and let the smoke slowly escape through his nose as he continued. “I knew the moment Germany invaded that I would resist with all that I am.”

Memories of Bajorans forced into labor camps mingled with imaginings of the French people requisitioned into the Obligatory Work Service in a parade of oppression that spanned an entire quadrant of the galaxy. Nils boggled at the ‘sameness’ of evil despite thousands of light-years distance.

“The risks of resisting are…” Nils voiced drifted off as he considered the peril this man had placed himself in.

“Yes, they are great,” said Heintz with a nod. “Had the Gestapo found me out I would have been shot like a rabbit in the kitchen garden. But the risks of resisting are also… very worth it.” Another slow drag on the cigarette punctuated his proclamation. “What is your code name?” Andre chuckled when he asked the question.

“Curmudgeon,” the Bajoran spouted with little thought. Little Nolan Marc would have been amused had he been around to hear it.

Heintz laughed heartily. “I find the codenames to be very amusing. I am called Theophile,” he said with a smile. “Friend to God…”

Featuring Andre Heintz, real life hero:

~ TBC ~

Originally Posted by Benjamin Hyde Pierce/04-9-2009 09:00:17 PM

::2 Kilometers West of the La Barquette lock::

"If someone sees you wearing that and asks about it.." Aengus hissed at Pierce.

They both had taken cover beneath a small stone bridge. The bridge was no bigger than a culvert but gave the two security officers enough cover so they could get acclimated to their surroundings, and check their progress on the map they had been issued aboard the Chimera. The stop also gave Ben the time he needed to change into some drier clothing.

"..I'll tell them my girl in England made it for me," Ben retorted. "It's warm and dry," the Iotian said as he shed his damp combat jacket and began to unbutton his shirt, "and these wet clothes aren't getting any am I supposed to acquire a target if my hands are shaking?" BHP inquired, opening his pack to retrieve the sweater, unwrapping its waterproof cover and removing the Unertl scope that lay inside of the folded layers of wool.

The sweater was not regulation but Ben insisted on wearing it, ignoring Aengus' protests that it would make them seem 'out of place'. It had been concealed in a waterproof cover with his scope and was warm and dry. It had also been knitted by Jenny, and BHP felt as if he were a little closer to her when he wore it. As he discarded his soaking uniform shirt, and slipped the sweater on, Ben was drawn to the coveted moments they had shared before Jenny had been called away to the transporter room.

“I love you,” she said, not quite deflecting his wish, which was also hers, but addressing it from a different angle. “I love that you’re stupidly brave and that you’re funny and that sometimes I don’t understand what you’re saying. I love how you look at me, and…” her hand brushed against his, “how you touch me… how I feel when you touch me.”

Fastening his combat jacket over the navy blue sweater, Pierce was yanked back to the present by Aengus' protests. "Shut your yap, Aengus," BHP finally said, "it's darker than our uniforms and it's…"

An object dropped into the culvert beside them. It was a German 'potato masher', or what the 24th century Starfleet officers referred to as a grenade.

"Move!!" Ben yelled as he and Aengus jumped up and rolled out of the ditch. They took to the waist-high grass on either side of the ditch before an explosion rained earth and fragments of stone onto their helmet covered heads. Ben waited, no fire came their way and he couldn't hear anything but the whisper of the breeze in the grass. An arm came up from the grass thirty meters in front of him, another grenade clenched in the person's hand.

Ben felt his M1 jerk as he fired off three shots at the revealed arm. There was a surprised yell then the arm fell, releasing the grenade which dropped to the ground. An explosive thump was heard, the kind where a blast pattern has been interupted by a couple of bodies. BHP waited a minute or so, watching the grass, his rifle ready.

"I don't see anything," Aengus suddenly said. The officer was on Ben's left flank and had crawled around to get a different angle on their attackers.

"Let's go look." BHP came off the ground and ran forward as he crouched low. He and Aengus found what was left of two dead Germans laying around a smoking hole in the ground. "I don't remember our briefing saying anything about troop movements in this area. In fact, I thought this part of the journey was supposed to be fairly uneventful," Aengus commented as he studied the insignia on the German soldier's uniforms. BHP kept a watchful eye on their surroundings while Aengus checked the two soldiers. The officer's eyes were drawn to a charred instrument laying on the ground beside one of the Germans. McMennan reached for the blackened piece of tech. "I could be wrong, but I don't think Nazi Germany produced tricorders."

BHP looked at the smoldering ruination of what had once been a Federation tricorder. "Terra Prime. They know we're here and they have people waiting to ambush us." He felt a chill pass over him and Ben was suddenly very worried about Jenny and the others, but particularly about Jenny. He rubbed the area of the sweater that covered his heart.

Originally Posted by Simba Wekesa/04-10-2009 01:05:08 AM

2.7 miles northwest of Montauban, France
1:18 AM - Saturday, June 3, 1944

Simba paused momentarily as he stared at the pistol Finn was holding in front of him, its metal surface glinting menacingly in the pale light of the full moon.

We have no friends, here. We may have allies but they are not our friends and we can trust no one. Finn's words played over and over in his head as he considered their broader implications. They were, of course, accurate, although he was finding the first officer to be far more suspicious than he had thought possible. Simba was inclined to trust that the situation would work itself out, just as it had before, though he was starting to realize that it was rather naïve of him. Harry Finn had the benefit of many years of suspicion and experience that the younger man lacked and, considering he was still alive, it had obviously paid off.

"You're right," Wekesa admitted quietly as he finally lifted his hand and took the gun. Finn nodded in approval and opened his mouth to add something but was cut off by the rustling of leaves on the trail ahead.

"Venez, venez… suivez-moi! Il est trop tard." Montand whispered loudly as he emerged from the shadows. "We must get to the farm before dawn, or it will be very difficult to evade the Germans." The Frenchman did not seem particularly suspicious of the conversation he had interrupted. Either Finn's suspicions were correct, or he was simply too focused on getting them to safety to pay attention to details.

Simba nodded in reply as he quickly tucked his pistol under his jacket before Montand could see it, keeping his finger on the trigger just in case. Being cautious was one thing, but it was probably best that they at least be discrete until they could better judge his intentions. "Désolé… un moment, s'il vous plaît." Malik crouched down and began to re-tie his bootlaces, trying to cover their unexpected stop without arousing suspicion. "How much further is it to the farm?"

Montand grunted as he considered the question. "The Demerais farm is about a mile and a half east and to the north of the town. We'll head south until we are half a mile north and then go to the east."

"What'd he say?" Colthurst asked as he glanced back and forth between the two men.

"Sounds like we've got another three or four miles to go." Malik replied in deliberately accented English as he finished tying the laces and stood up. At the rate they were going, that would get them there by about 4:00. That meant, of course, that they would have the cover of night the whole way, which was a good thing.

The Maquisard had already begun to move back into the foliage with Colthurst following close behind. Malik sighed as he brushed the dirt off his trousers and put his hand back under his jacket to take hold of the gun once again. Bringing up the rear, he had a clear view of their guide and a big enough gap to draw and aim the weapon if necessary. He hoped it wouldn't be, but there was no telling what still lay ahead on their long trek through the night.

As the three men walked in silence, Malik pondered the situation and what little they knew of Jean-Pierre Montand. He didn't seem like a Nazi spy, but learning not to seem like a spy was probably the first order of business for anyone involved in clandestine operations. Still, there were things that just didn't add up. They'd landed quite some distance from the target coordinates, and yet he'd been conveniently nearby, in the middle of nowhere no less. And then there was the slight matter of the long distance they needed to travel to reach the farm. Why not simply light the signal fires nearer to their headquarters? It would seem to make much better sense logistically, both for bringing in operatives as well as supplies. More to the point, Montand seemed to have a good knowledge of their arrival and details. Yet he had no radio with which to have received that information. Maybe Finn was starting to rub off on the young man after all, sharing the suspicion that he seemed to rely so much upon.

He glanced at the Commander, walking silently a few meters ahead of him and clearly keeping his eyes glued on Montand's every move, and thought back again to what he had said earlier. We may have allies but they are not our friends and we can trust no one. Maybe their odds of surviving would be better if he learned to see things that way. The verdict was still out on Montand. Malik and George were friends and allies. And Commander Finn definitely made it clear that, to him, Simba was merely in the ally category.

Yeah, Simba thought to himself as he trudged through the night. You should probably work on that before this mission is over.

Originally Posted by T'Shaini/04-10-2009 10:29:51 PM

In a lean to outside Caen

She and Giles sat in silence, the whispers from outside made it clear that Nils and Andre were not yet ready for rest. Not that T'Shaini could blame them, regardless of the necessity of keeping ones faculties as sharp as possible, rest would be a elusive commodity. She turned to the young frenchman, his youthful features aged by lack of nutrition and cares, and lay her hand on his knee. "You are new to this post, are you not?" She had read in his dossier that Andre's partner in this cell was newly appointed.

His face dipped low to hide a blush that shone through even the darkness of the lean to. "Yes, I just arrived yesterday, I have been wanting to help but until Phillipe was caught…." He froze and the Vulcan watched a myriad emotions flash across his face in the span of a second. "He was good…for so long…then one night…" Now it was a single emotion…and it was fear. "the Germans…the direction finder…."

T'Shaini moved from her chair to kneel by Giles feet, which horrified him to the extent that he began to rise. Too casual… "Giles…please." She whispered, and he sat back down. Hardened by the occupation as they were, they were still boys…as his skittish reaction to 'Marie' showed all too clearly. "He did not follow orders," Thankful for the thorough briefing they had received she continued. "Phillipe went beyond the safe limit of transmissions, you will do no such thing." Her firm tone far from what he counselor would use, but it suited the situation and the woman she had become and the young man, thankfully, responded to it.

"You are right, Madam." He wiped his nose on the sleeve of his sweater, the damp was getting to all of them, the only thing that needed to stay dry was the radio equipment so that was tucked snugly in the corner in the one leak free area. "What we do is far too important to let the sin of pride interfere." Giles said, crossing himself.

At his gesture, T'Shaini wrapped her fingers around the St Christopher medal around her neck, the fact that it had been warmed by her skin comforted her cold hands as she sent a swift prayer for not only these boys and their cause, but the dangerous situation the crew of the Chimera had found themselves in. Please Javier, just this once…be careful. Once again the two sat in silence, but where before it had been a strained, uncomfortable one, now it was filled with purpose…and prayer, until the hiss and crackle of the radio interrupted them.

The warning had not even finished before Giles was on his feet, dismantling the equipment while 'Marie' ran for Nils and Andre. "We may have been discovered, we must leave the area…but it is imperitive that the radio be reset as soon as possible." As Andre darted past her to aid Giles with the radio, T'Shaini grabbed Nils arm. "We only have several hours before the transmission is due…"

Scary nasty German on our trail, otherwise known as a Finder.

No, he is not flashing…he is showing off his equipment…er, his radio tracking equipment.

Originally Posted by Emily Star/04-11-2009 08:22:52 AM

1944- June 3rd
A mile outside of Bronac, France.

Emily leaned gently against a tree and took a deep breath. The sun shone through the trees illuminating all the different colors of green and brown. Everywhere she walked the sound of birds could be heard, bringing a sense of normality to the woods despite the harsh circumstances in the towns and villages. For a moment Emily could just take in her surroundings. It was a beautiful place.

'Move.' she told herself. She had to get going, there were still nine miles to go before she reached Le Chambon-Sur-Lignon. Taking a piece of paper out of her pocket she crossed off Bronac and sighed. Her target had been spotted in many different towns all over France during this time period so finding her was a bit of a challenge. It's not as if she would announce herself with a parade while a group of male dancers sang out her praises to a spy tune.

"I wish," Emily said with a laugh. The distance wasn't a problem, the walking was. Her feet were screaming at her to stop. Emily had never realized how comfortable her toes were in their standard issue shoes. Starships didn't have rough terrain, they didn't have rocks or stumps to trip on. This was ten miles of 'ouch' and 'damn bushes'.

Off in the distance she heard the sound of an old truck bumping down the not paved road. She wondered how they ever managed to drive on such roads. It was then she once again confirmed how spoiled she was in her time. The trucks gears ground down as it came to a stop having spotted her in the trees. The driver jumped out of his truck, his boots hitting the dirt with a loud 'thud'.

"Êtes-vous bien ?" ( Are you alright?) he called out. He was a handsome man, his face darkened from the sun and his shoulders strong from obvious labour. His eyes were a startling green, almost the color of the leaves when the sun shone straight through them. He looked about her age but considering how young the men stared work in this country, he could have easily been younger than her.

Emily stopped for a moment before answering,"Oui, juste faisant une pause de la marche. Son un beau jour aujourd'hui." (Yes, just taking a break from walking. Its a beautiful day today. ) As part of her preparation training Emily had worked hard on her French accent as well as her knowledge of the language. She'd taken French in school thankfully so she had the basics down but it still felt weird coming out of her mouth.

"Il est en effet. Marchez-vous loin ?"(Indeed it is. Are you walking far? ) his eyes travelled to her then down the long road.

"Le Chambon-Sur-Lignon. Ma tante vit là."( Le Chambon-Sur-Lignon. My aunt lives there.) she said with a nod, relaxing a little.

"Il sera foncé avant que vous l'atteigniez. Im se dirigeant à Le Tavas, je peux te donner un tour. " ( It will be dark by the time you reach it. Im heading to Le Tavas, I can give you a ride. ) he motioned to the sky and then his truck.

"Merci mais je ne pourrais pas accepter. Il est hors de votre manière. " (Thank you but I can't accept. It's out of your way) Emily was grateful but at the same time nervous since she didn't know the man and if he tried anything it could completely destroy her mission. Which was something she couldn't risk.

She didn't sense anything off coming from him. He seemed rather straight forward and honest. But Emily was use to sensing people from her time. Despite being an empath and partially telepathic she couldn't trust what she knew. These people functioned on different rules, different ways of life and as such what she considered harmless could be the opposite. The entire country was full of fear, hatred and a general loathing of each other.

"Vu qu'il sera foncé avant vous atteignez la ville, il est la plus mauvaise craindre que ? Un étranger offrant un tour ou celui qui se cachent dans le bois recherchant une belle jeune dame seule ?" (Considering it will be dark before you reach town, which is the worst to fear? A stranger offering a ride or the ones who hide in the wood looking for a lonely beautiful young lady?) he raised an eyebrow allowing his question to sink in.

Emily nodded, "Merci de votre souci mais j'irai simplement bien." (Thank you for your concern but I'll be just fine)

He shook his head, "Êtes-vous sûr ?" (Are you sure?)

"Je prendrai mes risques. Mais parler retarde seulement mon voyage ainsi je dis au revoir à vous monsieur."(I will take my chances. But talking is only delaying my journey so I say goodbye to you sir.) she smiled, did a little curtsey and began to head east towards the village. Glancing up at the sky she noticed the sun was high overhead and she nervously realized that it was going to be very dark before reaching her destination.

'Virginia Hall..' she thought of her target. ' A female spy, has a wooden leg called Cuthbert and is impossible to pin down.'

Emily recalled her reaction when reading about Miss Hall's unfortunate hunting accident where she shot herself in the foot. It was something that she would never wish to experience. In her time a phaser would stun but never destory a limb. Even on a high setting the damage was repairable…minus death that is. Emily couldn't imagine what it must have felt like, let alone what it would be like to wake up missing a part of your body.

Yet that hadn't stopped Miss Hall. She had been all over, doing her duty for her country and driving the Germans mad. They hunted her, she evaded and she did so till the end of her days. The report was vague, as most would be classified but Emily was impressed by what she had read.

The town of Le Chambon-Sur-Lignon was the one town that most historians were positive she stayed in before June 6th. Although there were no set in stone confirmations, Emily had a good feeling about it. She'd already been through three other towns and was sure Miss Hall wasn't in them. Then again given her aptitude for disguises Emily had a bad feeling she could possibly be backtracking within the day.
Mumbling something to herself she walked along in silence. The birds quieting down as the wind picked up, the clouds rushing across the sky. Emily stayed close to the road, her one marker for which way she was headed. Her small compass needle giving her a hand when she got nervous. Off in the distance she heard a truck making its way down the road. Turning she nodded to the driver and watched him pass. The same man she'd been talking to before. A small bit of her wished she'd accepted the ride as he was now out of sight and she was barely moving inches. Picking up her skirt, which she was beginning to regret wearing, she decided to step up the pace a little and stubbornly set off in a determined pace.

Originally Posted by Vince Stryfe/04-12-2009 02:26:51 AM

:: June 5th - 1944 ::
:: Over the English Channel ::

Vince sat inside the confines of the P-51 that he had procured from the US Air Corp, if only for a short while. He listened as the wind whipped by the canopy, almost serene sounding. The roar of the Merlin engine, pulling him in whatever direction he wanted. The freedom of the open skies surrounded him, begging him to stay there forever. This wasn't anything like the holodeck sessions that he had taken part in so many time over the years, the realism was far beyond that. He could feel the vibrations of the plane through the soles of his boots, and the palm of his hand as he grasped the joy stick. If not for the required formation of the current mission that he was on, he would be all over the sky, twisting, turning, flipping in every which way that he could, taking in all the joy and pleasure he was feeling from being inside that plane.

He rested his excitement for a moment, glancing from side to side to be sure he was still in formation. The feeling coursing through his body was toxic, but he had a mission to complete. The man that was supposed to be inside the P-51 that he was settled into was in the good hands of Scott. The plane had been looked over from nose to tail, and back again several time, making sure the wasn't any devices on the plane. When Vince and Scott had made contact with the pilot, there were two people following him, no doubt with bad intentions, but now the pilot was safely on the ground, in good hands. Now all Vince had to do was assist in fending off the luftwaffe, keeping them from shreding their ships as the moved towards the next morning's mission.

He looked to each side again, keeping track of where everyone was, then he started to slip back into his laxed state, enjoying every rock, and vibration the ancient machine had to give him. He strayed off into another day dream, not expecting anything bad to occur, just a nice flight gaurding the air for the ships below.

As all the sounds in the cockpit melded together, and Vince started to find himself in utter utopia, an off sound could be heard. At first he ignored the sound, blending it into the rest, but a single thing jumped out.

" 109's 109's, Coming in from 10 O'clock." The radio crackled in Vince's ear," Evasive action……."

Vinc'es reaction was a instant to late, as he watched a hole rip through the side of the cockpit, then out the other side, the top of his leg collateral damage to the projectile that had just turned the AC on for him. He grimiced for a moment, but delayed his reaction to the would as he barely kept from smacking wings with a 109. He regained his composure, breaking right, and squaring up with one of the German fighters. He gripped the trigger on the joystick, ready to fire, but didn't.

He broke away again, pulling his finger off of the trigger," What if this causes some mess along the timeline. What if I somehow effect things down the road, from shooting one of these planes down." Vince questioned himself.

Another shot ripped through the canopy just behind his seat. He broke right, positioning himself behind another of the attacking planes.

" What if this man is the beginning of the Picard family, or even the Kirk family line. He could even be the great grandfather of Zephram Cocrane. There's to many variables to consider here. I could chan……"

Anther shot throught the canopy caught him in the shoulder, and all his thought vacated him. He grasped the joystick, thinking of the numerous times on the holodeck, along with the dozen or so time before this mission. All the German's died in this arial battle, not a one survived, so this wa okay.

He broke hard to the left, almost rubbing bellies with a fellow Mustang, firing on one of the Messerschmitt's, smoke billowing from the fuselage as it lost altitude, the dark waters of the English channel the last of it's destinations.

He looked out around him, the wind whipping through the holes in his canopy, hitting his face with the cool air. He couldn't distinguish anymore enemy fighters, if any had survived the onslaught. They had caught the group of Mustang's by surprise, but the faster more agile P-51's over took them, sending them all to a watery grave, or a firey one at that. Vince looked down at the Channel, then smiled.

" Well, if you were anyone of importance's relative……. oops….. shouldn't have shot at me then." He chuckled a moment, the winced as his shoulder and leg started to throb. He looked down at the leg, nothing major, superficial at best, but the shoulder wasn't he same diagnosis. He could feel a bit of crepatis, but nothing that couldn't be fixed, and the bleeding wasn't perfuse. The wing had turned it's way back for England, and it wouldn't take more than a quick stich, and a sling and swath, then Vince would be alright.

He took another look at his shoulder, then laughed," Good thing Scott packed that med kit. I'll be flying by tomorrow. Hope everyone else is doing alright………………",He smiled again as he followed his wing mates, allowing the sounds surrounding him to mix again.

Originally Posted by Emily Star/04-13-2009 07:13:37 AM

-June 3rd 1944 -
- Outside Le Chambon-Sur-Lignon -

Emily watched as the sun began to slide lower and lower. The brilliant rays of sunshine that had brightened the green leaves of the forest had disappeared. Now all she saw were dark shadows and old branches . She shivered. It was getting colder as well. According to her calculations she should be only half a mile from the town.

'I hope..' she thought quietly to herself. The day had gone by quicker than she'd expected, her aching feet slowing her down as well as causing her to take her time over some of the rougher areas. Her legs ached now as well, she wasn't out of shape but she had fallen quite a few times. Her thighs were probably covered in deep dark bruises.


A twig breaking off in the distance caught her attention. Turning she squinted to see what it could be.

"…bonjour….est-ce que quelqu'un est là ?" ( someone there?) Her voice came out a little quieter than usual. The French freezing on her lips as a slight pang of fear took over her body. Closing her eyes she took a moment to feel out her surroundings. What she found was the same thing she'd been feeling all day, nothing new. There was hope and fear..and anger. Lots of anger. Even alone in the woods she could almost taste the bitterness of such a feeling.

Hearing nothing and feeling a little silly at having spooked that easily she continued on. The sun was half gone, the sky bathed in a deep red. The clouds were disappearing and their wisps mixed with the color of the sky made it look as if fire was exploding from the heavens. It was beautiful.


She heard it again, this time not just a twig but earth as well. Perhaps an animal, these were the woods after all. Emily quickly decided it was not something she'd like to meet, animal or not. She took a deep breath and carried on. La Chambon -Sur-Lignon was safe, she knew it was safe and all she had to do was get there. Her feet hurried along the rough road, a place that she felt a little safer on than in the forest.

'Why am I here' she wondered as she rushed her now probably bleeding feet along,'What good am I going to do? I'm going to get eaten on my first day.'

She stopped. There in the forest a steeple rose above the trees. The town! She had made it!

Something touched her shoulder.

Reaching around Emily grabbed the hand, took a step and in one fluid motion the person was on the ground, pinned with her knee resting comfortably on his throat.

"Pourquoi me suivez-vous! ?" (why are you following me!?) she snarled.

"J'ai…. été ….inquiété" ( I was worried) the voice was male, deep and his words came out slowly as his hands tried to lift her knee.

"inquiété ?" (worried?) she snorted.

""Oui ! Il obtenait l'obscurité et vous n'aviez pas révélé au village. Je ne pourrais pas aller dormir sachant je vous avais laissé à votre mort. " (Yes! It was getting dark and you had not shown up to the village. I could not go to sleep knowing I had left you to your death. ) he seemed to give up moving her, his body relaxed and he simply just went quiet.

"vous êtes le chauffeur de camion…" (you're the truck driver) she said quietly, moving her body off his and offered her hand to help him up. Emily wasn't sure what to think in the slightest. He had come back for her. There had to be more of a reason than common chivalry.

"Mon nom est David. J'habite en le Chambon-Sur-Lignon. " (my name is david. I live in Le Chambon-Sur-Lignon) David accepted her hand and he stood up, his frame making Emily feel a little small in comparison.

"Ah. .so que vous avez su…" ( you knew..) Emily started to say, the light turning on in her head.

"…que vous mentiez au sujet de avoir une tante dans le village. oui." (that you were lying about having an aunt in the village. yes.) He gave a slight chuckle,"mais j'ai figuré qu'il était quelque chose importante pour vous amener là si vous deviez se trouver." (but I figured it was something important to bring you there if you needed to lie.)

"Merci…" Emily said quietly, a little more lost than before but glad she'd found the village. She was also a little proud of the fact she hadn't gotten completely lost.

"Vous n'avez pas un endroit à rester… vous faites ?" (you don't have a place to you?) He asked curiously.

"mes tantes!"(my aunts)she said with a laugh.

"Le puits emballent qui n'établit pas, j'ont une salle disponible dans ma maison. " (Well, incase that doesn't work out, I have a spare room in my house) David chuckled along with her.

Emily stopped laughing and put a hand on her hip, raised an eye brow and look him up and down, "Je l'obtiens… que j'ai su qu'il a dû y avoir quelque chose vous avez voulue" (I get it..I knew there had to be something you wanted)

"Non ! Aucun… je n'ai pas voulu dire pour impliquer.." (no .no I did not mean to imply) He took a step back," Je suis désolé s'il se dégageait de cette façon. " ( I am sorry if it came off that way)

Emily nodded, "vu que nous nous sommes juste réunis" (considering we just met.)

"Je ne voudrais pas vous rendre inconfortable. En tant que monsieur bien que je voudrais vous trouver un endroit sûr pour rester. " ( I wouldn't want to make you feel uncomfortable. As a genttleman I would like to find you a safe place to stay.) He offered his arm for her to walk beside him.

Emily bit her lip quietly while thinking. It was, after all, the lesser of two evils. She had stubbornly refused his ride and he still came back to make sure she was alright. To refuse his help again would seem to be another sad move on her part. Although in her opinion the way he spoke was completely foreign, not meaning his language either. He was offering his arm..he was speaking of being a gentleman. He was…weird.

"Oui, j'accepte votre offre." (Yes, I accept your offer) she replied, looping her arm through his offered one,"Bien que je n'aie aucune manière de savoir si vous êtes vraiment un monsieur. " (Although I have no way of knowing if you really are a gentlman)

He laughed and nodded, walking her in the direction of the village. Emily felt just a little bit better knowing she would be sleeping in a bed instead of a tree. Looking up into the darkening night sky she wondered how the others were doing. Somewhere, in this time, they were busy fighting their own battles and writing their own adventures. She just hoped everything turned out so she could hear their stories.

Epicenter 1944
