As they crested the hill and Bode saw Skaref, a quiver of fear trembled inside him. He'd come here often enough with cargo to unload, but now he was entering as a traitor to the Reich, driving a truckload of even more traitors.

A sprawling facility nestled deep inside Germany - it had taken all of his wits to get them through the various checkpoints - Skaref was part retreat, part military monster. The grounds around the military installation went on for several acres of both manicured lawn and forest. Ringing the whole of Skaref was a perimeter wall with a thick steel gate that provided the only entrance and exit.

The guards at the gate should let them through. He'd made deliveries before and this truck was unmistakably Reich property. Just as long as they hadn't marked it as overdue. Or stolen.

The gate loomed ahead.

Bode took a deep breath.

/

They'd stopped.

Jeanne tensed and gripped the seat under her until her fingers hurt. Casián sat beside her, a steady presence, but she thought he stiffened as well.

All that came to her ears were muffled German words and the truck's engine idling.

And then the truck lurched forward. All the breath whooshed out of Jeanne's lungs in relief. They'd made it through.

After two or three moments Bode called back through the truck's canvas, "Five minutes!"

Instantly, the atmosphere inside the truck was electric. Nothing changed visibly. There was a little more shifting and looks were exchanged. But everyone tensed with anxious nervousness and Jeanne felt it. She looked around. She knew none of these men, none of these women. Yet they were still willing to follow her for their cause and perhaps even die.

Probably die, if she was being honest with herself.

She doubted many of them would make it through this day, which was why she couldn't let them all go their separate ways without a word, without an indication that they, all of them, mattered to the cause. To each other. To her.

She stood and gripped the truck's frame work above her head.

"Saul Garreau-" Her voice faltered, so she cleared her throat and tried again. "Saul Garreau said that one fighter with a sharp stick and nothing to lose can win the day. They have no idea we're coming; they have no reason to expect us. If we make it off this truck, we'll take the next chance. And the next. And on and on until we win...or all our chances are spent." She took a deep breath. "The plans are down there. You all know what will happen if we don't capture them."

There were nods, exchanged glances, muttered words.

Casián stood now. "Malbusse, Chirutt, take the main squad and scatter through the grounds. Once you get to the best spot, light it up. Make ten men feel like a hundred."

"All right," said Baz. There was a kind of grim excitement on his face. Jeanne shared it.

The truck slowed and then stopped. Jeanne held her breath and she was sure the others were doing the same as footsteps approached the truck.

The canvas flap at the back was flung back and two German privates stared in stark surprise at the group inside the truck.

In less time than it took Jeanne to recognize the threat, Baz - closest to the opening - had jumped out and cracked the soldiers' heads together. Everyone else spilled from the truck then. Jeanne and Casián took off their outer clothes and donned the privates' uniforms. The clothes were much too big on Jeanne, but she shoved the sleeves up a little and made do. At least the bulkiness would help hide the fact that she was a woman.

Casián handed her a helmet and she bunched her hair up underneath before slipping the strap under her chin. There. Not the best disguise but far better than nothing.

Bode came around the side of the truck. "What do I do?" he asked Casián.

"Stay here and keep the engine running," Casián said. "You're our only ride out of here."

As the men jogged past her and melted into the woods and shrubbery, someone touched her arm. She looked up and saw Baz.

"Good luck, little sister."

Her throat tightened. This was, perhaps, the last time she would see him. She nodded, finding it too painful to speak words. But he would understand all that she meant and could never say. If they saw each other again, she would thank him for sticking with her through all of this. But for now, a nod and an unspoken promise to meet again were all she could manage.

Chirutt was right behind him and almost without knowing what she was doing, she slipped the Saint Lucia medallion from around her neck and pressed it into his hand.

"You asked me about this back in Jeddah," she said. "You should have it."

He smiled widely, his gaze focused an inch or two past her. "Thank you, Jeanne."

It was what had brought them together in the first place, what had saved her and Casián's life later on. But she didn't have to say any of that. Chirutt knew.

And then he and Baz were gone into the darker shadows like the rest of the rebels.

She watched them go and then turned back to Casián. Kay was there as well. In his officer's uniform, he'd be an excellent escort and hopefully get them through any challenges by pulling rank.

Jeanne squared her shoulders and fell into step beside Casián as they advanced toward the Skaref facility. Kay muttered something under his breath darkly but other than that there was silence.

Jeanne's heartbeat fluttered.

No turning back now.