The door slammed open and Hryb was leaping into the yard, waving a piece of paper around. Donna looked up from the radishes she had been going through as the younger man sprinted towards the taps, shoving the photo into a guard's face.

"See?" he demanded, grinning widely and almost bouncing up and down. "I knew he'd do it!"

The guard nodded, looking at the photo. "Congratulations," she said in a warm voice. "I'm glad for you."

Hryb darted off to brag to Donna, Theodosius, and Vartha. Since he had missed the first few weeks after that movie had been shown to the guards, he hadn't learned to be afraid of them, and thus acted like he always had. To the rest of them, it had appeared like Hryb had changed, but in reality, it was they who had changed.

Smile still splitting his face, Hryb showed the photo to the three of them, who moved in closer to see better. The photo depicted Hryb's son at his highschool graduation. The boy, who looked very similar to Hryb, was clutching his diploma and copy of the Constitution as he smiled widely. Donna noticed that father and son had the exact same smile.

"Congratulations!" they said.

"Thanks!" Hryb rocked back and forth on his heels, looking almost manic. "I knew he could do it! And he's going to college, too!"

Hryb's son had, once again, managed to succeed by the skin of his teeth. Every single year, psychiatrists had decided to wait another year before deciding if he needed to be shifted into special ed, and every single time, he had managed to do just well enough to make them delay the decision again, even though it had cost him efforts Donna had never known a child that age could put in. "I'm very happy for you," Donna said sincerely.

"Tell him we're all proud of him," Vartha added, turning off the tap and wiping his hands on the grass, which was green thanks to all the water that was spilled on it.

"Oh, I will," Hryb replied, looking at the photo and running his hand over it. "He worked so hard over the past year! If I had been half as hardworking in highschool, I'd have been a genius." He sighed. "Pity he had to start out with such a disadvantage. It's not fair he has to work so hard just to be average."

"It'll pay off-"

"-in the long run. Yes. But I can see how hard it is for him." Hryb sat down on the ground next to them. "I'm glad he's so hard-working, though."

Theodosius wiped the dirt off a radish. "I suppose it's true that nurture is more important than nature when it comes to habits," he said.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hryb asked suspiciously.

Donna tossed a radish into a bucket. "If I had a cent for every time you slacked off, I'd be rich."

Hryb leapt to his feet. "And if I had a cent for every time you said something useless, I'd be richer than you!" He whirled around and stomped off towards Gold and Salperin, who were watering the meadow.

Giggling, Vartha watched him go. "That's a good one," he said. "Both were good." He stretched out his legs, leaning against the wall.

"I just realized something." Theodosius put down the radish he had been holding. "Hryb has never gotten to as much as see his son." He still stubbornly refused to be visited by his family.

"They'll have to free him eventually," Donna said, without much conviction. Even in the normal prison system, the more infamous tended to only be given early release for medical reasons, and, even though his name was hardly known, Hryb was still the only former Gamemaker still living.

"Maybe when he's a hundred," Vartha muttered, turning the tap back on. "I've honestly lost track of how old Best is, and they're still keeping him in here." He began to wash another radish.

The problem with Best was that he was too healthy, both mentally and physically. His mind was as sharp as ever and he had no issues with taking care of himself, which meant that there was simply no excuse to let him go, other than what Aulus' friends called 'misplaced humanitarianism'. Donna hoped her son wasn't also so categorical, but then again, to Aulus, Best was the orders he had signed and nothing else. "That's a good question," she said, not wanting to start thinking about the past all over again. It often seemed that that was the only thing she could think about. "How old is he? Ninety?"

"No, I think he was eighty or so during the trial," Theodosius pointed out. "I'd say ninety-five."

"There's no way he was eighty back then. The media would have mentioned it."

"Maybe it did, and you forgot it?" Vartha suggested.

Donna took another radish from the bucket and tore off the leaves. "Maybe he was in his late seventies, then?"

"Maybe." Theodosius scratched his forehead with a finger, leaving behind a small streak of dirt. He waved to a guard who lay down on the ground close by and put his cap over his head. The weather was nice, if a bit too warm for the long sleeves the guards wore.

"How many radishes do we need to wash?" Vartha asked, placing a clean one into a bucket.

"Probably a lot," Donna replied. She tore the leaves off yet another radish. They had an entire assembly line going - Theodosius brushed off most of the dirt, Donna tore off the leaves, and Vartha washed. "Don't they have a meeting today? They'll need a lot of salad for the distinguished guests."

"Salad sounds nice," Theodosius said. "What else do you think they'll have?"

"Expensive alcohol?" Vartha scraped at a stubborn bit of dirt on a radish. "Or expensive tea. Or both."

Donna reached into the bucket and took out a radish the size of her thumbnail. "Great," she said, holding it up by a leaf. "I'm sure the distinguished guests will eat their fill." She tore off the leaves and rolled the little pinkish-red root in her grimy palm.

"No," Theodosius said, reaching over and picking it up. "This," he declared in a dramatic tone, "is the fresh salad that we deserve."

Vartha took the tiny radish from him. "At least it's fresh," he said, and washed it under the sink. Donna took another radish from the bucket.

"I wonder if they'll have soup today."

"Probably." Theodosius tossed another radish into the bucket Donna was taking hers from. "I'm done," he declared. "How about I help you wash?" He moved over to where Vartha was sitting and rinsed some of the dirt off his hands. "I bet they will," he said. "They almost always do."

The guard napping next to them adjusted the cap covering his face, muttering something incomprehensible. Donna felt fine, but she was shirtless and barefoot, unlike the poor guard who was stuck in long sleeves and stout shoes.

"I think they'll have vegetable soup," she said, tossing leaves and radish into their separate buckets. "Ten's chairing, so they'll probably have steaks after that." She looked inside the bucket. Only a few radishes were left.

Theodosius juggled six dirty radishes. "I want a steak," he said. "Or soup. Or anything else, really. The stuff they serve at those dinners sounds like it's from another universe."

"We used to eat like that, too," Vartha reminded him. "Even better, in fact."

"And they ate like we do." Theodosius caught the radishes and washed them under the tap, rubbing them against each other to get rid of the dirt. "I've heard of victors' justice, but this is victors' imposing of dietary habits."

Vartha chuckled. "The victors write history - and cook lunch."

"That's not exactly true," Donna said. "Two's flooded with Peacekeeper memoirs, and they weren't on the winning side. Even in the Capitol, people write. I half expect Slice to publish her autobiography any day now." That was the last radish. Donna set aside the bucket and moved closer to the men, who were also almost done. She opened a different tap and rinsed off her hands.

"I'd read it," Theodosius said. "And once we're out, I want to meet up with her."

"Wouldn't that be too awkward?" Vartha asked. He shook water from his hands and wiped them on his shirt, which was completely unbuttoned. "She's been free for as long as she had been unfree, at this point."

That wasn't quite right, but it would be in less than a year. Slice's nine-year sentence, quite long by any other standard, was just over a third of Donna and Theodosius', and less than half of Vartha's. "I guess," Donna conceded. "We have nothing but the past in common, and even that - barely. I met her for the first time in jail."

"I first spoke to her in the dock," Theodosius reminisced. "Remember how, on the first day, she got her lawyer to give us donut holes?"

"I wish my lawyer had given out donut holes." Vartha ran his hands over the rim of the bucket nearly overflowing with more or less clean radishes.

Donna remembered those donut holes. "I miss donut holes so much." She stretched out her legs and lay down on the ground, feeling the hot sun and soft grass against her skin. "That lawyer of hers was really something."

"I actually heard something interesting about Baer," Theodosius said. Donna turned towards him and opened her eyes, eager to hear.

"What is it?" Vartha asked, also leaning closer.

"Did you know that she is currently representing individuals trying to get compensation?" Both of them shook their heads. Donna hadn't thought one of their lawyers could switch over to the other side, but then again, Slice had been different from the rest. "A while back, she was representing the former workers of some factory, and the corporation was represented by, of all people, Low."

"Who's that?" Vartha asked.

"She was Dovek's lawyer," Donna explained. "She was there at nearly every trial, representing the person in the front corner." She had no idea what had motivated her to be so dedicated. As far as she could remember, Low had been sceptical of the entire idea, but was certainly no revanchist.

Vartha shrugged. "I guess our trial conflicted with another one. Alright, they faced off in the courtroom, and then what? Went on a date?"

Donna laughed at the mental image, as did Theodosius. "No," he said, still laughing, "they gave an interview."

"Also an option. What did they say?"

"Well," Theodosius began, "the workers won, for starters."

"Typical," Vartha grumbled.

"Someone asked Baer if she had switched to the winning side on purpose, and she eviscerated them verbally. Apparently, it was something to behold."

"I can imagine that." Baer had been by far the most competent of the defense lawyers. Wreath hadn't been too far behind, but he hadn't been nearly as good at thinking on his feet, and his success had been the result of preparing for every single conceivable or inconceivable eventuality. Baer, however, had been able to adapt on the fly and bluff her way through tough spots.

Vartha scratched his neck, which was coated with a sheen of sweat. "Pity the best lawyer got the easiest client," he said.

"Back then, everyone thought the courtroom was the antechamber to the gallows," Donna pointed out, turning her face towards the sky, eyes firmly shut to block out the sun's glare. "They decided to give the best lawyer to the one with the highest chance of surviving, to maximize the chances of at least someone slipping the noose."

"Don't remind me," Vartha said in a tone that indicated his desire to continue talking about this for the rest of the week. He took a radish from the bucket, gave it another rinse, and began to chew, trying to be as quiet as possible so as to not get the nearby guard's attention. "I remember how in our wing, everyone begged the guards for updates, wondering what this meant for us."

"We should drop off the radishes." Theodosius climbed to his feet, stretching. "When our sentences were announced, did you expect to end up here with us?" Donna also stood up, reluctant to get up from the soft grass.

Vartha stuffed the rest of the radish into his mouth and likewise rose. "I thought the IDC would fall apart faster," he said, picking up the bucket. Donna emptied one of the dirty buckets into the other. They'd dump the soil onto one of the patches. "I thought that they'd release me before the trial even started, or have a Depuration court give me five years." They set off, leaving the empty bucket behind

None of them had expected the IDC to continue its teeth-gritted cooperation for as long as it had. "We thought the same," Donna said, adjusting her cap to shield her eyes from the sunshine. "If you had asked me back then where I would be in twenty years, I'd have said that either the grave, or the office."

"I'd have gone with the grave," Theodosius quipped. "We high-ranking civil servants were more expendable than you professionals."

They fell silent as they approached a guard who was standing by the wall and reading a book. Donna tried to see what the book was about, but it was written in an unfamiliar alphabet. The inmates weren't the only ones learning different languages.

"Good day," Donna said demurely, cap in one hand, bucket - in the other. "Here are the radishes."

The guard looked up from the book, and then down at the bucket Vartha was setting on the ground. "Great," she said emotionlessly, turning back to the book. "Dismissed."

"Now what?" Theodosius asked once they were out of earshot. "You want to do the crosswords?"

Donna shook her head. "I didn't bring my glasses. Maybe in the afternoon."

"Same," Vartha said.

"I could read the clues out loud," Theodosius offered.

As they walked past a cucumber patch, Donna shook the dusty soil out of the bucket and put it down. It could always be put away later. "It's alright," she said. "We could just walk for a while."

Theodosius glanced down at his bare feet. "Or we could join them," he said, gesturing to Koy and Xu, who were holding a newspaper and staring blankly at Hryb. The younger man was pointing to the photo he was holding. Upon noticing the three of them approaching, he glared at Donna and ran off towards Hope and Katz, who were weeding the peas.

"What happened there?" Xu asked once they got closer. She adjusted her glasses and pointed at something with her pen. Koy nodded and wrote something down.

Vartha eagerly explained the joke as Donna winced inwardly. The grins on Xu and Koy's face didn't make her feel any better. "Two in one go, huh?" Xu asked.

"You could put it that way," Theodosius said charitably. "Has he told everyone already?"

Xu nodded. "Some of us - twice."

"Of course he did." Vartha sat down on the bench next to Koy, leaning in close to be able to read the clues. "River in Europe, five letters."

"That could be a lot of rivers." Donna and Theodosius squeezed themselves onto the end of the bench. "Are there any letters?"

"Third one's an 'o', last one - an 'e'."

Theodosius ran a hand through his hair, further smearing dirt all over his forehead. "The first one that comes to mind is the Rhone," he said. "Is there anything else to check with?"

Koy adjusted his glasses and scrutinized the crossword. "Aha!" He wrote something down. "Yes, if the first letter is an 'r', that should work. Also, your forehead is dirty."

"Any other rivers?" Theodosius asked, wiping his forehead with an equally dirty forearm. "Or is it just engine parts now?"

Xu looked up from the paper. "We got the politicians and poets, but there are a bunch of questions about plants."

"Anything about Australian novelists?" Vartha asked hopefully. "I was just reading about that."

"No, but there is something about Australian plants." Both Theodosius and Vartha shook their heads. "Also, do any of you know anything about nineteenth-century celebrities?"

"I know nineteenth-century engineers," Donna suggested.

"Not helpful. What about mushrooms in China?"

Donna wondered if Aulus knew that. "I barely know mushrooms in the Capitol."

"I don't understand who this crossword is even for," Vartha complained. "Every day, all of us have to get together to solve it, including the guards. And I'd say we're pretty well-read. Is there anyone out there who knows European rivers, Chinese mushrooms, pre-Cataclysm machine guns, and medieval battles?"

Koy smiled slightly. "We're certainly on our way there."

In the distance, Li did cartwheels as Hryb talked to him. "Look at them," Donna said.

"A normal day in the Supermax mental hospital," Vartha grumbled. "Hryb really should agree to visits. This is just punishing his family needlessly."

Xu filled in a word. "His family is being punished by default," she said. "That's the point of life imprisonment."

"That doesn't mean he should make it worse for them," Donna argued. "It's bad enough for me that my children grew by quantum leaps, but he's going to get out and find himself face to face with a total stranger."

"Still, you have to admire his strength. He won't let them see him in such a state," Koy said. He took the pencil from Xu and filled in a few words.

Theodosius sighed. "Unlike you, I have children about the same age as his son. Believe me when I say that I will have a much better relationship with mine than he - with his when we get out."

"I'm glad I never had kids," Xu said.

"You missed out on missing out," Donna said darkly. In the last letter, Lars had said that he was seeing someone. Since he didn't elaborate beyond that, she had to assume that it was serious enough to alert her, but not serious enough to get her hopes up. All of Theodosius' kids kept him up to date on their achievements on the romantic front - Donna had no idea why hers were more shy about that. "Though it's definitely nice when you get a portion of success in your letters every so often." Donna suspected that the fight Laelia had gotten into during the winter had fit into an existing pattern of such behaviour, but she had no way of checking it. She was still digesting that particular bit of news, as she was so used to hearing only about successes, hardships were hard to deal with.

Vartha sighed. "Quantum leaps - that's a good one. I've got five grandchildren, and I haven't met any of them."

"Are you going to?" Donna asked. "I've also been thinking about whether to have my granddaughter visit once she's older."

"Probably not, but then again, I've only got four years left. I think in my case, it's appropriate to not have them be introduced to me here."

Theodosius listened attentively, but Xu and Koy only paid attention with half an ear, focused on their crossword. "Mine keeps on pestering her parents about me," Donna said. "I'm certain she's already done some research."

"That's what you get for that responsibility nonsense," Vartha said. He crossed his legs at the ankles and stretched them out, resting his heels on the ground. "Once that lawyer son of yours has kids, I shudder to think what they'll get up to."

"Do you really think my daughter would encourage her seven-year-old child to read up on topics like these?" Donna asked incredulously. "How do your children explain to their children why they can't see their grandfather?"

Vartha lay his hands in his lap, tapping his fingers on his knees. "I don't know," he said. "I never asked, and they certainly never told me of their own volition."

"Mine are campaigning for my release," Koy said. "But then again, they were already teenagers when I was arrested." Donna wondered how they would feel if they failed and Koy died in prison. They would have spent the majority of their lives on a futile quest. "They know I'm innocent." He pushed his glasses down so that they rested on the tip of his nose, stared at the crossword for a few seconds, and pushed them back up. Xu filled in an answer. "You sure it's Greece?"

"Can't be anything else." Xu twisted her pen into a knot.

"What does your granddaughter know?" Koy continued the conversation.

"I don't know. All I know is that she's curious."

Koy shook his head. "I don't like how you're pushing your views onto your family."

"What? You're the one whose family is tirelessly campaigning for him!" That was rank hypocrisy. "Your family members are sinking countless hours of their time into getting you out of here. At least mine don't make political proclamations to the media."

Koy leaned over Vartha to look at her. "My children and grandchildren make their own decisions."

"Are you implying mine don't? Or that I somehow had control over what my husband told them?" None of them showed even the slightest interest in the campaign to free her spearheaded by Livia and Dr. Fisher, even as they all wished as much as she did for her early release. Donna suspected she may have gone overboard in saying that her sentence was just in the official letters, and, on top of that, their clandestine letters made it clear that they couldn't work for a cause that was mostly supported by revanchists.

"What he means," Xu said, "is that if you've got an aberrant viewpoint, and your children share it, that's suspicious."

"Excuse me?" Theodosius leapt to his feet, leaning over them with his fists on his hips. "How is revanchism not an aberrant viewpoint?"

Xu put down the newspaper on Vartha's lap. "Are you saying that I am a revanchist?"

"You certainly make it easy for others to draw that conclusion," Donna chimed in.

"And you certainly make it look easy for others to think you're both self-haters with a martyrdom complex, but I don't call you out on that," Xu snapped, turning towards her.

"You just did." Donna looked her in the eye and raised her eyebrows, unable to think of an actual comeback.

Vartha burst out laughing. Strangely enough, Xu looked abashed. She twirled her pen and turned back to the newspaper. "What do you think of the Patriotic Front?" she asked, seemingly picking a bit of news at random.

The Patriotic Front was a just-created conglomeration of various revanchist groups who hated each other as much as they hated people from the Districts. "If they get a single seat in the District Legislature, I'll be shocked," Theodosius said.

"The New Nationalists are being absorbed into it, though," Vartha said in a worried tone. He disapproved of the violent methods of the far-right fringe groups. "Even if they get just a handful of seats, who knows what will happen."

"Maybe any sort of nostalgia would be discredited," Xu speculated. Donna suspected that the older woman dreaded the prospect.

Koy shook his head. "Or maybe it will make extreme revanchism more acceptable."

"And then what?" Vartha demanded. "The Districts get all up in arms again?"

"I'm not saying it's a good thing." Koy sighed. "Those revanchists are a bunch of uneducated children who listen to their grandparents talk about how good life was back then without being aware of what was going on under the surface."

How could Koy be so right and so horribly wrong at the same time? "Under the surface?"

Koy shrugged. "Now it is. Didn't you read that survey report? One-half of teenagers in the Capitol have no idea what the Games were, and only five percent are aware that they consisted of two children between the ages of twelve and eighteen from each District being randomly selected and forced to kill each other until one remained."

"Don't remind me." It was horrifying to think of how little knowledge about the recent past there was in society. Even in the Districts, surprisingly few teenagers were aware of the extent of the atrocities that had occurred right on their doorsteps. "No wonder there's so much revanchism, if the only young people in the know are the children of perpetrators."

Theodosius ran a hand through his hair. "You think the children of some civil servant know the actual truth?"

"No," Donna conceded. "They probably know even less. I wonder, though, what makes the older revanchists tick. Don't they remember telling whispered jokes in the kitchen?"

"No," Koy said, "because they never did. You have to admit, life was better back then if you didn't provoke the government."

"Exactly." Xu filled in a few squares. "Back then, everyone knew their place. There were no strikes or riots." She looked up and waved to Netter, who was approaching. "One of the treaties that ended World War One, seven letters."

Netter walked over quickly. "Well, there weren't that many of them," he said, taking the newspaper and bringing it close to his face, squinting. "It has to be Trianon."

"Thank you." Xu took back the newspaper and filled in the answer. "Also, could you please figure out the generals here and here?" She pointed to the places with her pen.

"Of course." Netter waved over Best and Verdant, who slowly walked up the path.

"As I was saying," Xu continued, "back then, things were stable."

"Very much so!" Netter agreed. "Just look at how they're training soldiers now. No discipline. I pity the veterans who thought it was their duty to stay on." He brought the newspaper practically to his nose. "I should have brought my glasses," he complained.

"Why not go get them?"

Netter waved the suggestion off. "I'd need them for five minutes, tops. With my luck, I'd just break them."

Koy took out a book called The Last Days of the World out of his pocket and began to read, Xu looking over his shoulder. "What's going on there?" Donna asked, gesturing at the book.

With a sigh, Koy turned a page. "The air safety centre's going about its usual routine," he said, sounding as if its imminent destruction was causing him physical pain. "I don't know if I should be happy it got such a long run, or sad that it all came to nought." Recently, he had branched out to studying the Cataclysm itself, and tended to get sentimental about events that had occurred several hundred years ago.

"If the only cooperation they had was a little air safety centre and a prison that held nobody but an older and crazier version of Hryb, no wonder it all went up in a nuclear fireball," Xu said with a snort. She didn't share Koy's sentimentality.

"That doesn't make me feel good about our position," Theodosius said. "Not when the prison directorate is an actually functional version of the federal government."

"At least we're one country," Koy pointed out. "Though it seems like every single country ended up in a state of civil war at some point over the next fifty years." He looked back at his book. It was a small paperback, tattered and with torn corners.

Vartha watched Best and Verdant slowly walk up the path. "I can't imagine a crazier version of Hryb," he said.

"That's because with him, crazy's the new normal." Netter crouched down, hands on his knees. "I can't believe his son's so normal when he got Hryb's DNA."

Theodosius chuckled. "I don't think being ostentatiously lazy is a Y-linked trait."

"What, you think Hryb got it from his mother?" Netter asked in a joking tone.

"She was also a Gamemaker," Donna said. She and her husband had also committed suicide during the last phase of the fighting.

Netter nodded, as if that explained everything. "Ah, so he's just an aberration, then." He stood up as Best and Verdant arrived. "We need your help with the crossword," he said.

The two men took out their glasses in unison and put them on, Verdant reaching out to take the newspaper from Xu. "The Third Greco-Turkish War again?" Best asked. Donna, Theodosius, and Vartha stood up to let the older men sit down. "Thanks," he said, carefully taking a seat and leaning his cane against the bench.

"No," Koy said, "the second one. Also, World War Two-era submarines and a nineteenth-century Russian general."

"Submarines?" Verdant asked, interested. Koy pointed out the question and handed him the pen. "Oh, that's easy," he said, and filled in the answer. "I was actually just reading the autobiography of Karl Doenitz and-"

"That's wrong," Best said, pointing to an older answer. "You mixed up France and Greece." Verdant obligingly corrected it. "Which means the part of this unpronounceable plant used medically is the leaf."

Xu clapped a hand to her forehead. "And here we were, wondering what part of a plant ended with a 'g'."

"The general?" Koy asked eagerly.

"Can't be anyone but this." Verdant filled in the answer and handed the newspaper to Xu. "That's rather obscure, though."

"It's The World, they're contractually obligated to only include obscure clues." At least that was what it seemed like to Donna.

"It's obscure even by their standards." Verdant winced and shuffled around on the bench. His bad leg was sticking almost straight out. "What else is there?"

Xu looked over the crossword. "Two questions - one about a Supreme Court case, and one about a singer from Mali."

"Wait, Supreme Court case?" Vartha took the newspaper. "Come on, this one is easy." Verdant handed him the pen, and he filled it in. "It's probably in the top ten most famous pre-McCollum cases. And there's only two letters remaining for the singer, and the name is close to a very common one. Let's just give it a shot. There. Done."

"Thank you, Mr. Vartha," Koy said gratefully. "All of you." He opened his book again.

"It's nothing." Netter rose from his crouch and walked off down the path.

"Potatoes?" Theodosius suggested. Donna and Vartha nodded, and they likewise headed off towards their potato patch, next to which, Hryb was bragging about his son to a guard who was trying to read a textbook.

A/N: In case you've missed it, in my headcanon, the Cataclysm happened with the Cold War going hot in 1985 (if anyone wants, I can give a more detailed explanation as to why I chose to have an alternate history). Thing is, in 1985, there were two Four-Power organizations where the USSR and USA worked together - the Berlin Air Safety Centre and Spandau Prison (inmate population: 1).

The bit about the losers writing history is inspired by how after WW2, most of what Western sources wrote about the Eastern front was based on German recollections and generals' memoirs, which were horribly inaccurate and biased. So here, the Capitol has terrible memoirs about how everyone totally did their duty with honour, and Two (which has something like 'Vichy syndrome', with collaboration being brushed under the carpet) has terrible memoirs about how they were totally forced into the armed forces and did nothing wrong. Not many people actually read them, but the sentiment is widespread in society, and since few people actually talk about the past, it doesn't get corrected.

In real life, there was only one Greco-Turkish war.