Niente Zero-4

London

London. I was going to London.

I'd said I wanted to, right? But still. I wasn't going to London to meet Granny and warn her about what a low down sonofabitch my grandfather would turn out to be - I mean, time travel paradoxes aside, this was a mission. We had some saving the free world to do. The flip side was, I also couldn't use his position of minor importance in London society to open any doors. Or maybe I could. We'd see.

I'd been comfortably darning socks and humming show tunes, and I was beginning to lose track of the time, what day it was, everything, what with never seeing the sun, so I'm not sure how long I'd been in the camp, when Carter had informed me that Colonel Hogan wanted to see me. I really hadn't seen the Colonel much, certainly not alone, since my first unfortunate landing on Le Beau.

Kinchloe was with the Colonel in his quarters/office when Carter showed me in. He gave me what I can only describe as a dubious glance before leaving, closing the door behind him.

"Sit down, Niente." Hogan butchered my screenname. Aw, heck, everyone does. It's got a lovely Italian lilt. I had considered it a Very Bad Idea to go around announcing that the name I went by was Italian for "nothing." Hello, I'm not an Axis spy, honestly. So I put up with him calling me "Nenty." The alternative was probably giving up my real name. Something told me that was a bad idea. Am I digressing again? Drat.

I sat, smoothing my skirt under me nervously. I'd been warned that the bottom bunk creaked and wasn't so comfortable, but it was better than standing. I had done a pretty good job at staying in the background and I wasn't sure that being summoned boded well for my continued lack of heroics.

Hogan smiled. That was my first real glimpse of the 100-watt knock 'em dead charm. Of course. He could turn it on and off like a light switch. But that didn't make me immune. I found myself smiling back, though about what I didn't know.

"Now, Nenty, we've all appreciated your efforts." He stretched out his foot. "My feet haven't been this comfortable in years. But I'm afraid I've got a more serious job for you to do."

Ulp. Yup... summoned not bode well. Summoned bode bad. Summoned bode Niente running around out where people might SHOOT at me.

"You love your country, right?" Hogan asked. My lips twitched slightly. I have two countries, his and mine, and as a matter of fact, I love them both. But outright appeals to my patriotism have never been worth much.

"I love abstract notions like freedom, and justice, and peace." I blurted. Great. Frickin' hippy. Well, frickin'... conchie, I guess.

Hogan shrugged. His eyes were sharp on me. "You'll do what you have to, to help our side win, though?"

It was stated as a question, but he had already judged me and decided he knew the answer. I knew this, because I was still alive, and he trusted me far enough to be sending me on some sort of job.

"I will." I said. Ulp. Yeah. Lily-livered, yellow bellied, right up until someone tells me they need me, and then what do I do? Practically volunteer. Not like Linda or Jessica, or Tuttle. They... seemed completely willing to throw themselves into the cause from the start. I felt myself wanting in character compared to them. Which meant I was beginning to THINK like I belonged in the War era, and that couldn't be good. Thinking like a hero could get me killed. And maybe anyone else who was counting on me. But - those sharp eyes of his on me - you knew if someone like that was counting on you, you'd do anything rather than let him down.

Augh.

Dash it all.

Hogan stood up. The smile played on his lips again. "You said you needed to get to London. Well, I need people who understand what's going on here, in London. It's unfortunate that you're not quite English-"

I interrupted "But at this exact point in history, my nationality may in fact technically be British, so it ought to be good enough."

"Right." Hogan said. "So, here's the plan."

Is it wrong that I actually felt flattered that he was laying out the whole plan for me?

I was certainly relieved to hear that I'd be travelling with one of the other writers. Catalyna seemed, well, nice. Even if she did get to dance with Olsen, when all I got was a slap in the face. Sheesh, I hoped she wouldn't hold my death-glare against me.