Written for a series of weekly sub prompts under the umbrella of the main challenge "Plan" over at Cheesemongers. The sub prompts consisted of: Brightness (taken to mean Light), I Yam What I Yam, Creativity, and Crowned.

Summary: Polly and Mal are seconded to a different regiment for a highly secret job. If they only follow the plan, everything should be easy. In today's thrilling instalment our heroines develop their strategy. (before "Dulce et Decorum est")

Disclaimer: Terry Pratchett owns the characters and the world they live on. I am grateful for all the brilliant books and make no claims of ownership in any way.

A Spot of light relief II (I Yam What I Yam) or Spot That Light Relief!

Mal would never tell a soul that Polly almost gave up that first night. The girl had used all her energy, all her stamina, and eventually was hanging on by her fingertips, only her pride keeping her going. But all things come to an end and as the sun dipped toward the horizon, the beautiful sound of a halt being called filtered through the dust. Polly staggered and fell to her knees whereupon Mal, who had been encouraging her for the last miles with some pointed remarks about certain sergeants, dropped her pack, reaching for the water bottle. She held the exhausted form in gentle arms as Polly drank deeply, tension easing from tired muscles. An explanation continued in delicious detail as to how Mal would fry that damn sergeant in boiling oil, with a hint of seasoning and perhaps some chipped potatoes.

They were interrupted by a private with an invitation to meet the 1st lieutenant. Gathering all her resources, Polly struggled to her feet and tried to walk like her legs weren't made of jelly. They reported at straight backed attention and were suprised to see a grin break out on his face as he looked up from the map he was perusing.

"At ease lads. Sit yourselves down and rest your legs. They must be almost falling off." He leaned back against the rock behind him and waved to someone behind them. The blasted sergeant of perpetual motion loomed up behind them with a bottle and a proud smile. Mal considered ripping his throat out there and then, but there was a time and a place for such things and besides, the bottle smelt of spirits. She took the bottle with a nod, sergeant to sergeant and sniffed at it delicately.

"Smells like vodka." Turning to Polly she found her already collapsed at her feet. Folding her slim legs gracefully she sank to the ground and handed over the spirit. Polly took a good nip and managed to almost stifle the cough that followed.

To Mal's disappointment, the evil sergeant wasn't leaving. He settled himself comfortably in the group as the 1st lieutenant leant forward and held out his hand in introduction.

"Smith at your service." They shook hands, Polly first. Mal struggled to swallow the question that jumped to her lips but he answered it anyway. "Yes, my real name, and this is Sergeant Jones." He indicated the loathsome being currently relaxing at his side. "He likes to run."

"Really. I would never have guessed." Polly had obviously been taking lessons in dry sarcasm Mal noted.

Oblivious to all this, the abominable sergeant retained his satisfied smile. Mal considered the benefits of large millstones and fast flowing rivers.

"You did really well for new 'uns." He jerked his head at his superior and added "the Lieutenant didn't think you'd be able to keep up."

"What?" Polly sat up abruptly. "You did that on purpose? You were testing us?"

"You think we run like that all the time?" Lieutenant Smith laughed and reached for the bottle. "We always run in the new ones, see what they're made of." He gave them a calculating look and added "you'll do."

"We thought you were just Politicals, put in to make trouble." The sergeant took over the tale, anxious now to explain. "We heard stuff, about the war and that. But you seem ok."

"We're not political" Polly assured them. "Not anymore anyway" Mal added, "6 months posted to the back end of nowhere cured us of that. Ah, such fun."

"So," Smith enquired delicately so as not to fracture the new peace, "is there a plan for what we're attempting to do here?"

"I've got half a plan." That came out more defensively that Polly had intended.

"Erm, Sir?" Mal put her hand on Polly's shoulder, "I don't think running at them and screaming is going to work this time. It's a good plan I admit, and it's served us well. But perhaps a little more finesse is needed this time."

An exasperated sigh escaped from her lieutenant. "If you remember, Sergeant, I did have some other ideas."

Mal remained sceptical. "Last time we tried that I was stuck in that scratchy pine tree overnight and it cost me 10 dollars to bail you out."

"Plus it's the wrong time of year for hazelnuts" Smith joined in with a grin.

Mal's jaw dropped.

There was a moment of stunned silence. Then, "I like him" she proclaimed decisively, turning to Polly. "Can we keep him? Please? He's funny!"

"Mal!"

"Is he always like this?" Sergeant Jones asked in an awed tone.

"Excuse me, Sergeant?" Mal bestowed upon him her most disdainful stare. "I am magnificent. Fantastic. Extraordinary. I am unparalleled!"

"You're tired." Polly pulled down the arm waving enthusiastically about her head.

"We're all tired." Smith broke up the party. "We'll thrash out the details of your plan tomorrow. You'll both stay up front with me." Their faces fell. "Hey, cheer up. We don't always run, remember?"

"I do"

"Yes Jones." He patted the sergeant on the shoulder. "But you're weird so we don't count you."

"Lets just hope he keeps Sergeant Von Speedylegs on a tight rein tomorrow" Mal muttered as she helped Polly to her feet.

"Let it go Sergeant." Vampires were impervious to the kicked puppy look, but Polly had always been a sucker for the droopy face Jones had pulled. "He can't help it, he is what he is. Like you can't help constantly spouting rubbish" she added quietly.

"But you still love me right?" Mal employed her own squashed puppy expression as she murmured the question.

Polly stopped abruptly, swaying with tiredness. Mal let it go, realising in that moment that Polly was completely and utterly exhausted. The daft girl had always been too proud to admit to weakness. Wrapping an arm around her waist she guided her stumbling steps back to their packs.

"Come on Lieutenant; let's put you to bed, hmm? Tomorrow is a fresh day." She rambled on quietly as she removed boots, jacket, breeches and shirt and wrapped the tired girl in her blanket. Polly would sleep better without the chafing of buttons and braces. A hand reached out of the blanket to clasp hers and she bent over to stroke the forehead clear of sweat-dried hair. "Night Pol" she whispered, dropping the customary goodnight kiss. "Sweet dreams."