Beach City - December 19th, 1938

The rising sun cast a warm glow on the low hanging coastal clouds, standing in stark contrast to the frigid air. One by one, lights began to wink on in every window as Beach City began to wake. But for now, the streets were barren, cold with inactivity.

Deedee's morning had come to a thoroughly unpleasant beginning. First, the deep drifts had bogged down her walk to work, then she had been soaked to the skin by a pile of snow from the roof after she struggled to yank the frozen shop door open. Finally inside, she had to desperately scramble to warm the shop up, get the coffee brewing, and heat up the pastries she'd baked last night.

The cold winter was a poor time to be selling chilled soda, so the shop had switched to novelty warm drinks, hot pastries, and other uncommon snacks to sell to the holiday tourists. She had Pearl to thank; months of her stories had brought in enough cash to expand the menu.

The little bell above the door chimed merrily. "Be with you in a moment!" Deedee hollered from her small office in the back. "We're not quite ready to open!"

"Hi, Deedee!" Pearl called back with as much cheer as she could summon.

At the sound of her voice, Deedee emerged from the shop's office, hands filled a stack of bills. She began to sort them into the cash register. "You don't sound too happy. Did those nasty Bund people give you trouble last night?"

"No, not them." Pearl rested her elbows on the table and slumped forward, glumly letting her head rest on her hands. "Unfortunately, I got what I wanted."

Deedee glanced over quizzically. "Isn't that supposed to be a good thing? What went wrong?" Finished with the cash register, she walked over to the shop's espresso machine. "Hot chocolate milk soda to cheer you up?" It was one of the menu's stranger options, but one that was popular during the winter months.

"Sure. It may be a long time before I get to taste one of those again, so I'll be savoring this one."

Deedee set about mixing the ingredients. "Sounds like you're going traveling for a while," she shouted, to be heard over the loud whoosh of the steam machine. "I haven't traveled much in my time. Always wanted to, but the shop's kept me pinned down. Where are you heading off to?"

"To fight the Third Reich."

"You'll have to repeat that last one." Deedee finished up, sliding the bubbling thick drink over the countertop. Pearl caught it with practiced ease.

Pearl lifted the glass, draining half of it in one long swig. "I'm headed off to fight in the coming war!" she repeated more confidently.

Deedee's eyes widened with surprise. "Did I hear that right? I thought you said you couldn't interfere with human affairs?"

Pearl nodded, a little more gloomily now. She began to sip at the remainder of the drink more slowly, trying to appreciate every drop.

"Is anyone going with you?" Deedee started twisting the folds of her apron nervously. "Surely it will be too dangerous to go alone?

"Just me. The others are staying out of it to continue their routines." Pearl took another sip, then motioned for some of the cake from the warming oven. "One slice, please."

Deedee put a plate with a fresh slice down in front of her, then leaned against the back counter. There was a row of family pictures behind her. She picked one of them up, a framed photo set against a campground of a young man standing beside two teenagers. "But this is a good thing, isn't it? You can use those Gem Powers from your stories to put a stop to it!"

Pearl popped a piece of the cake into her mouth, answering in between bites. "I'm afraid it's not that simple. Only I'm going, and I cannot fight as a Gem. For all intents and purposes, I'll be like any other soldier. Just more durable." She paused for a moment, savoring the sweet texture, then quickly took another bite. "So long as my Gem remains intact, that is."

"Channeling Amethyst today?" asked Deedee, chuckling at the sight of Pearl practically inhaling the dessert. It wasn't like her friend, normally so refined, to consume anything with such haste, let alone eat more than one thing in a visit.

Pearl finished her slice, then motioned for another. "I suppose so; must be nerves. Stars, I haven't felt this nervous since the founding of the Crystal Gems all those eons ago." On receiving the next slice, she took care to eat this one more slowly. "I want to make sure I recall how this tastes, so I can properly remember Beach City during this adventure."

"So if you can't fight as a Gem, can't use your powers, can't do anything…then, why?" Deedee's voice was strained. She looked at the picture again, eyes were wet with tears. "I lost an uncle to the last war. I don't want to lose my nephews or my best friend to another."

Pearl hopped the counter, wrapping her friend in a comforting hug. "Because I think I can make a difference, however small, in the coming fight." Releasing Deedee, she stepped back, smiling. "And don't worry about me. As long as my Gem is intact, I'm basically invulnerable to injury, so I should be able to make it home."

The rest of Pearl's visit went by without any further upset. The two of them chatted a little longer about the details, while Pearl savored another novelty drink, this time an orange smoothie. Eventually, customers started to show up and Deedee had to resume her duties. After another farewell hug, the two parted ways on the promise that Pearl would write home as often as possible.

Empire City Train

The full moon cast an eerie glow over the snow-covered landscape slowly rolling past outside the windows. A few passengers marveled at the speed of the newly-commissioned Zephyr train, but to Pearl, accustomed to the pace granted by gem technology, they were barely crawling along.

With nothing to do, she passed the time re-reading a worn copy of the first volume of The Travels of Ibn Battuta, which seemed appropriate to her current situation. Before leaving, she had also stocked her gem with several travel books and adventure stories to pass the time. While lacking somewhat in their technical knowledge, the variety and imagination demonstrated by humans with the written word never ceased to amaze her.

Besides, reading was a great distraction to keep herself from dwelling on her worries. Every so often, she caught herself pondering her predicament and forced herself to keep studying the pages in front of her. She couldn't risk slipping into a deep funk.

"Hey, lady? What's with that giant stone in your head?"

Looking up from her book, she saw the curious children staring intently at her. "Oh, that thing? It's a…."

A small hand reached out, pressing a cold finger to the stone. Pearl shivered involuntarily at the touch as an unpleasant chill passed down her body. Among Gems, it was commonly understood to never touch another's stone without permission. Of course, these little humans didn't understand that.

"Natalie, Isabelle!" barked a voice from the seats across. At the sound, two young girls scurried off the bench and back to their parents. "Stop bothering the nice lady! It's rude to touch someone without their permission!"

"Are you an albino?" asked the young girl now known as Natalie.

"Why is there a rock stuck in your head?" asked her sister, Isabelle.

"Natalie! Isabelle! What did we just say? That's not polite!" scolded the girls' mother, while giving them a gentle shake.

"I'm so sorry, Miss," pleaded their father. "Please excuse the kids. It's their first time to the city, and they're a bit worked up right now."

Having recovered her senses, Pearl smiled at the small children. She withdrew two chocolate bars from the seat pocket. "No worries. Children asking such questions is quite natural. Here, these were complimentary, but I'm allergic. You can have them."

Without waiting for permission, the two children eagerly snatched the offered candy. "You still haven't answered our questions!" pressed the older one, mouth stuffed with chocolate.

The father looked about to protest, but Pearl waved the words away. "I don't mind."

"Now, children," she began didactically. "Your Dad's right. It's rude to ask such questions, but I'll humor you this time." Pausing a moment to consider her answer, she continued, "I'm not a full albino. My eyes are blue, but the rest of me lacks normal pigment, so I have to stay out of the sun. That's why I'm on the evening train."

"What about the stone?" Isabelle repeated.

"Tragic rock climbing accident." Pearl grinned at the little story she had just hit upon. "I fell and hit my head so hard that it got embedded in my brain. The doctors told me that if I removed it, I would die." She felt a little cruel for doing it, but it was fun to enjoy the gullibility of the young humans sometimes.

Isabelle's eyes went wide and she quickly found something else to distract herself. Beside her, her father chuckled a little. "Don't worry, Isabelle, it's probably just glued on. Some cultures have, uh…interesting…customs for beauty and decoration."

"Exactly!" Pearl confirmed. He'd just saved her the trouble of having to make up a better excuse.

The cheery tones of the public announcement system drowned out every conversation on the train. "Next stop, Empire City! Everyone stopping at Empire City, prepare for disembarkation!"

Pearl gathered her reading materials, hurriedly stashing them into her gem, then stood up to leave. Across the aisle, the family was now staring at her as if she were some form of mutant. "Damn it," she muttered under her breath.

The father looked like he was about to say something, but Pearl didn't give him the chance. Hurrying to the end of the car, she ducked through the partition, passing into the crowd who waited by the door.

"That was close," she whispered to herself. The train suddenly jolted from a sudden deceleration, and instinctively she grabbed hold of the handrail to steady herself. In the months working with Deedee, she had really let herself go complacent in keeping her true nature secret. She'd only really bothered to hide it when it was story time, in front of many unfamiliar faces. She would have to relearn the habit of keeping her powers secret and acting human.

A few minutes later, she had disembarked from the train. There was a travellers' shop at the station, and she briefly stopped to purchase a modest backpack. It would be more convenient for her to own one, rather than constantly need to find privacy to access her storage. Soon, she was also clear of the crowded station, and began to make her way through the snowy city streets to her hotel.

Another mile of walking and she had arrived at a nice little converted residence named the "Layover Bed & Breakfast". It was a bit pricey, but offered a tidy, warm room and proximity to both a bakery and the local US Army recruiting office.

Dawn was still hours away, so she settled into an armchair by her room's fireplace and drew out her favorite sword, along with a cleaning kit. It was an old ritual from her time during the Gem War, and it helped her to recharge and relax into a deep meditative state for the rest of the evening.

The Big Day - Newark New Jersey, December 20th, 1938

There were two things that frustrated any soldier not in direct combat. The first was observation duty, which brought with it long hours of concentrating on absolutely nothing, in often unpleasant conditions. The other was office work, when there were no tasks that needed doing.

It was this second case that the soldiers at the Newark recruiting office found themselves stuck in. The Army was in the midst of a recruitment drive, but the blizzard blowing outside was keeping any interested signees home. With no young men to process, the recruiters had gathered around the desk nearest the heater for a few rounds of poker. Their big radio in the corner of the room blared the latest news out of Europe.

"Straight flush!" cackled PFC Grimsley, slapping his hand of cards down. His companions groaned, but dutifully pushed their chips over to the victor. They were about to start another round when the door chime jangled, accompanied by a brief flurry of frigid air.

"You'll have to wait until the next round!" grumbled Grimsley, not bothering to turn around.

Thwack. Grimsley glared at the big sergeant across the table who had just kicked his shins, then swung his chair around with an annoyed huff. "Okay, okay, what do you want...Ma'am?"

Standing up, he straightened his tie, then strode over to the woman standing in their office. "I'm Specialist Grimsley. Is there something I can do for you, Ma'am?" He looked her over appraisingly. "You seem a little underdressed for the weather. Are you in some kind of trouble?"

Pearl immediately didn't like the man; there was something in the way he looked at her, talked to her. He reminded her of how some aristocrats back on Homeworld saw their Pearls: ornaments to be adorned and primped to their liking, rather than a living being that possessed a mind. No matter how much it grated on her nerves, she was stuck dealing with this one. She had to make it work.

"Thank you for the offer, but I'm quite alright. I've actually come to enlist and see if I can be of use to the Army of the United States."

Grimsley's smile never wavered. He strode forward, putting his arm around her waist to guide her towards the wall of brochures. "Sure. There are plenty of openings for secretaries and nurses. The postal department could also use an extra hand."

Pearl gracefully pirouetted out of Grimsley's grasp, while just barely managing to maintain her own smile. "I'm actually more interested in the combat roles."

"Combat?" echoed one of the soldiers sitting at the table. "Like a combat medic, or a field nurse?"

Pearl shook her head. Her patience was starting to fade, but she had to keep her composure. Their reaction wasn't unexpected. Deedee had once told the stories of her grandmother's experiences in the Great War and the difficulties the men had given her.

"No." replied Pearl firmly. "I mean actual combat."

Grimsley was about to interject, but Pearl cut him off. "I'm not some housewife with dreams of glory. I was in Brazil during the Constitutionalist Revolution, and fought with the citizenry against the corrupt administration of Getulio Vargas." She was lying, of course, but the ruse only needed to last until she had signed on. "My sword and hand-to-hand skills have sent many a thug of the regime to an early grave. I believe this government could benefit from my abilities in the coming wars."

"Gawd, you are serious," snickered Grimsley, leaning on the impromptu card table for support. "Does any of that stuff sound believable to you, boys?"

The others began to laugh derisively as well, muttering amongst themselves. Pearl's sharp ears could hear their whispers. Crazy. Deluded. Out of her mind.

Grimsley waved towards the door. "Okay, lady. It's time to go. I need to get back to cleaning these guys out of their paychecks."

Pearl stood firmly in place. "I don't need your approval, I just need you to let me sign on a piece of paper." She thought for a moment, then grinned wickedly. "I'll make it interesting for you. We can have an arm-wrestling contest or a boxing match. You choose. If I win, you give me the enlistment form and I can become someone else's problem."

A third soldier, with the insignia of a private on his shoulder, spoke up curiously. "And if you lose?"

"Mr. Grimsley gets what he wants. I'll leave without further ado. But I'm sure that won't happen."

Grimsly glared at Pearl. Damned uppity women..."Get out before I call the police."

That was it. She would be making no progress with these morons. As much as she hated it, the best course of action now was to abide by these jerks' demands and leave. "Fine," she hissed.

Turning on her heel, she stormed out of the office, flinging the door closed behind her. The mechanism failed to catch, and it bounced off the jamb, exposing the inside to the driving flurry of white. Behind her, she could hear the frustrated curses of the men struggling to get it closed as their office filled with snow.

Try again - West Hoathly, Sussex

Howard was having a fine evening. The crisp winter air was fresh, he had a nice warm campfire going, and the big, economically-priced bottle of Gloucestershire red tasted especially pleasant tonight.

He was camped out in the garden shed of the local history center after its elderly manager found him huddled in the snow drifts and took pity. Not many people were visiting, so as repayment to the kindly caretaker, Howard was helping keep the grounds tended and troublemakers away.

The centerpiece of the museum's small garden was the large crystalline pad at its center. The locals avoided the place altogether, as legend held that it was haunted by malevolent spirits who dwelled within its flawless surface. Anyone who touched the pedestal risked their unutterable wrath.

Howard may have indulged in the tart wine a little heavily, but he wasn't yet completely befuddled, and neither was he superstitious. That huge crystal was an awfully tempting source of potential profit. After waiting for the groundsman to retire for the evening, Howard slipped from the shelter of the shed. He returned with a sturdy garden trowel in hand.

Kneeling next to the pad, he raised the trowel far over his head and prepared the first blow. He would extract his shards from the base of the object to better conceal the damage.

Precisely 3,485.26 miles away, Pearl was back in the outskirts of Beach City, having caught the lunchtime express back from the Empire State. She had briefly considered buying a ticket on one of the new Pan American flying boats, but a berth appeared to be outside her price range. Cruise ships were cheaper, but after enduring the slow crawl of the train, the journey by boat would be maddening. So, she found herself walking down a frozen, abandoned farm trail to look for the nearest warp pad outside the Temple. The sun had just dipped below the horizon when she found it, covered in a thin layer of ice and frozen dirt.

Bending down to dust off the detritus, she mounted the pad, closed her eyes, and concentrated on her destination. The bright beam of light flashed, and she was hurtling across space-time for one final time.

The trowel struck the crystal with as much force as Howard could muster. He was rewarded when a small, finger-sized piece of the pad flaked off. Depositing the precious material in his pocket, he quickly threw the trowel aside and plopped himself back down at the fire.

FWOOSH!

Without warning, the crystalline pedestal blazed to life with a column of light far brighter than the noon sun. Howard flung his arm across his face to shield his eyes, but his vision was already blurry and filled with spots. He could just barely make out the form of a woman standing on the pad. It had to have been a female of some form, for it was too slim in build to be male.

"Spirits!" whispered Howard. He threw himself to his knees before the apparition, begging for forgiveness, trying to explain how desperate he was and how a small flake would allow him to keep his head above water.

Pearl allowed herself a mischievous grin grinned. She was quite aware of the legends surrounding the warp pads. In fact, she had been the source of quite a few of them. Playing on human superstitions was one of the ways the Crystal Gems had kept them away from their technology, and anything they were still able to witness would be dismissed as just another folk tale.

Puffing up her chest, she put on her most authoritative voice. "I know what you did, but I seek not your destruction. Rather, you are commanded to abandon your path of self-destruction and find a new way to peace and prosperity."

Howard was still blubbering away an apology when Pearl left the courtyard behind to begin the long walk to the distant lights of London. The snow had abated, but the roads hadn't been plowed yet and her progress was slowed significantly.

A few times, she tapped into her enhanced speed, but the increased pace depleted her energy reserves faster. Eventually, nearing exhaustion, she stopped to rest on a park bench in one of the small villages outside the city limits. It was a clear night sky,

Leaning back against the cool concrete, she gazed up at the clear night sky. Millions of twinkling lights shone back at her, a mute reminder of her previous life among them, serving in the halls of the elite who controlled the course of untold billions of life forms.

She smirked. Oh, how the shocked gossip would fly around the court if those fools could see me now. Their wonderful looks of astonishment would be priceless beyond platinum.

"Are you all right, my child?" asked a voice. Turning to see the speaker, she was greeted by the kind smile of an elderly priest. His starched clerical collar was visible over the heavy fur coat pulled tightly against the biting cold.

"It's awfully cold out here, and you are not properly equipped." He offered his hand to her. "Please come with me and warm yourself in our church."

Pearl accepted the hand with a warm smile. "Thank you. I'll gladly take you up on the offer, if it's not too much trouble. I don't want to impose on you or your congregation." She allowed herself to be guided through the quiet village, a short walk which brought them to the entrance of a modest stone church in the center of town. She helped the priest with the heavy doors, then settled into one of the pews to rest.

"Please let us know if you need anything, my child," said the priest. "If you need counsel, the confessional is on that side. Good evening, and rest well."

The priest left to attend to the others, and Pearl was once again alone with her thoughts as she took in her surroundings. The church wasn't ancient, but with its brick walls and colorful stained glass windows, it was clearly a relic of a bygone era. She sat quietly, watching more dwellers of the street filter into the church to seek refuge.

She closed her eyes in an attempt to meditate, listening to the prayers of others around her. In a way, she envied them, able to leave their fears to a higher authority, to put faith in some grand design created by an omnipotent being.

After a time, the church had gone silent, leaving Pearl the only one awake. Wrapped in a threadbare quilt from the donation box, she was stretched across the pew, gazing up at the intricate murals which depicted events from the Bible and the ancient world. She had never been one for prayer, and certainly didn't believe in any human religion, but her mind was still in turmoil from the last few days. Perhaps some prayer was worth a shot. It couldn't hurt.

Leaving her seat, Pearl got on her knees before the altar, assuming a prayer position she'd seen in human books on the subject.

"Need help praying?" The old priest was once again beside her. "It's clear you've never done this before. Here, copy me."

"Er...I'm not really one for religion, Father." A hint of embarrassment was creeping into her voice. She really didn't want to get involved in any of this. "I just need a quiet place to rest and think."

"That's quite alright," reassured the priest. "Just start talking and the Lord will listen to you, for he loves all his children. Even the ones who don't keep in touch so often." He cocked his head, regarding her intently as they knelt together. "Are you a warrior, my child? You carry yourself like one. I can see it in the way you walk, and how you observe your surroundings."

Pearl nodded. She closed her eyes, trying once more to center herself.

"Good, I have just the prayer for you. There have been many like you who have come here for solace, touched indelibly by the battles they have fought. Repeat after me.

"Lord, I ask for courage. Courage to face and conquer my own fears, courage to take me where others will not go. I ask for strength…."

At sunrise the following day, Pearl took her leave of the kindly priest and set off to finish the long walk into London proper. It took her another hour, but she had finally arrived at her destination.

Picking her way through the busy streets of Westminster, she quickly located the Armed Forces Careers Office, then checked a note from her backpack to make doubly sure she had the address right. Yeomanry House, Handel Street, King's Cross. She had arrived.

Steeling herself for a repeat performance of Empire City, she shouldered her way through the door, galvanized yet for another altercation in her endeavor to take up a banner to fight under.

Success - December 21st, 1938

That day in London was a typically overcast one. The occasional flakes of snow flitting down from the sky heralded another approaching storm, ready to drop another layer of white onto the already-covered ground. Only one of the storefronts along the old cobblestoned street was lit and open for business in the early morning hours, its windows adorned with bright, colorful posters promoting the glory of service in the British Army and promising adventure in exotic foreign lands.

On that particular day, a local celebrity had stopped unannounced at the recruiting office to call on a few old unit mates from his time assigned to the Manchester Regiment. His current job as a newspaperman had stationed him overseas in Kenya, restricting opportunities to visit friends and family to his rare trips home.

"I'd pulled a classic Robin Hood shot at a hundred yards," laughed Jack, pounding his friend's desk for emphasis. "I landed a bullseye and followed it up by splitting the first arrow with my second one! The judge had to halt the competition so it could be photographed for the local paper!"

His companion huffed. "Nobody is that good with a bow. I'll believe it when you show me the photograph."

Jack reached into his pocket, dropping a creased newspaper clipping down on the table. The picture on it showed him clutching a recurve bow, standing proudly next to a round target with the aforementioned double-shot. "Right, then. Where was I?"

Behind him, the office door creaked on its hinges, allowing a gust of air to burst into the room. Looking over to the disturbance, he was surprised to see a slender woman enter quickly, then slam the door shut behind her. Conversation in the office halted as she strode confidently up to the gathered soldiers.

"Hello, young lady," Jack greeted, extending his hand to her. "What can the men of Her Majesty's Armed Services do for you this fine winter's day? Do you need to borrow a coat?"

Pearl chuckled, taking the offered hand and giving it a firm, enhanced shake, then let go. "Thank you for the offer, but I'm quite alright. That's actually the third offer for a coat in the past few days."

Jack kept his surprise at her strong grip hidden, but he couldn't help rubbing his sore hand. "Please pardon me, I seem to have forgotten my manners. My name is Jack Churchill. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking to?"

Pearl allowed herself a sliver of hope; it had only been an introduction, but this was going better than it had back in Newark. Steeling herself against another harsh rejection, she summoned her remaining confidence and began:

"Hello, Jack. My name is Pearl and I've come to sign on with the British Army as a soldier." No sooner had the words left her mouth, she heard one of the soldiers snicker. Another waved his finger around his ear in a "lunatic" gesture.

Pearl briefly glared at the men, but otherwise kept her attention on Jack, whose smile and demeanor never wavered. Instead, he looked over his shoulder at one of the young soldiers standing next to the wall. "Mr. Davis, please pass me the catalogs for the field combat specialties."

Davis rolled his eyes. "Jack, don't waste your time. She's clearly loony," he sneered. "Besides, who are you to command me? You're not even serving anymore."

"Do as he says, Davis," growled an older man wearing the stripes of a sergeant. "If I trust Jack's judgement, it should be good enough for you too."

Davis grumbled a bit, but did as ordered. He reached into a pigeonhole, picking out several pamphlets, then handed the stack to Jack.

"Thank you, Mr. Davis." Jack took the pamphlets. "What kind of soldiering did you have in mind?" he asked Pearl, shuffling a few of the more interesting ones to the top of the pile before placing them in her hands.

"I am not exactly sure as to which speciality." Pearl replied thoughtfully as she thumbed through the papers. Most were related to basic soldiering or support roles for women. A very tempting option was a role as a mathematician with the Royal Engineers.

"Do you have any pre-existing experience or special skill sets that can help us guide you to a decision?" asked the sergeant as he made his way over to Pearl and Jack; he had noticed Pearl looking at the engineering packet. "That's a good choice. Puts you out in the field but not too close to the front lines. I know a warrant officer in need of someone good at maths who wouldn't mind having a female in his troop."

While the three discussed options for the newcomer, Davis headed for the sofa next to the main recruitment desk. "Can you believe this nonsense?" he muttered, plopping himself down with an annoyed huff.

"Keep it to yourself, Davis," warned the lance corporal manning the main desk. Anticipating that his services would soon be needed, he was already organizing enlistment papers and filling in some of the basic paperwork.

Gathered around one of the office's small tables, the three had been chattering about military history and tactics for hours. Tea cups and plates of biscuit crumbs competed with history books and notes for space. Pearl's depth of knowledge on military history and tactics had completely derailed her original goal of finding a suitable service option.

Eventually, the grandfather clock in the corner chimed the twelve bells of noon, tearing the trio out of their conversation.

"Goodness, how the time flies," chuckled Jack, leaning back in the chair. "It's been absolutely pleasant being able to properly debate the tactics of Belisarius and Justinian with someone so knowledgeable.

The old sergeant nodded in agreement, then glanced worriedly at the clock. "I'm afraid I must soon take my leave. We should probably wrap up and finish selecting a service option for you, Pearl."

Jack picked up one of the pamphlets that they had narrowed down as a potential option and quickly scanned its contents. "I have an idea on that front."

Pearl sat up in her chair, her interest piqued by the title on the document. "What do you have in mind?"

"From our talks, I realized that we both share a mutual interest in the sport of fencing and swordplay in general." Jack stood, walking over to a decorative display of old swords and shields along the far wall.

Pearl stood to follow him, having guessed where this line of conversation was headed. "You wish to test my abilities in close combat, then?" Without waiting for an answer, she reached out and selected a saber from the display. "What series of saber is this? I believe that this was an officers' weapon from the late eighteenth century?" Stepping back for clearance, she gave it a few practice swings to get herself accustomed to its balance.

Jack laughed heartily. "I believe it's fashioned after a 1790s model, meant to be carried by sergeants. A good choice." Reaching out, he selected one that looked a bit like a Scottish nobleman's claymore.

Pearl paused a moment to examine her sword. It was old and had some signs of use, but was otherwise clean and properly maintained. Looking over, she observed that Jack's weapon was of similar condition.

"Jack?" she asked worriedly. "These aren't antiques, are they? I don't want to damage something valuable."

Pearl's concern for the weapon made the Sergeant smile. "Don't worry, Miss. These are just replicas of the swords on display at the Tower. They just look like they've taken a beating because the men are always horsing around with them."

"Yep," Jack confirmed. "That's why these are kept dull, or else the lads would have stabbed each other to death years ago."

Davis and the lance corporal had cleared an impromptu arena in the small backyard. Pearl and Jack made their way to the center, shook hands formally, then backed five paces from each other. The sergeant, Davis, and the lance gathered on the back steps, where it would be easy to duck into the shelter of the office if the coming fight got out of hand.

Jack cleared his throat, then laid out the terms. "Okay. You get two chances to best me in combat. If you are unable to defeat me, then we place you in the engineering battalion."

Pearl grinned confidently. "But if I win, you write me a letter of recommendation and sign papers to send me off to a Commando unit."

"Deal!" declared the Sergeant, pulling his coat tight against the cold. The old man was grinning ear to ear in anticipation. "On my mark, you two shall begin!"

The two nodded to each other and took a few more practice thrusts, swinging and parrying to warm up.

Pearl assumed a close inside left form, then primed her joints with energy. "Ready?"

To Pearl's surprise, he lowered his body position to the right-back stance. Given their close proximity, he was leaving his front open to a fast thrusting charge. But it was the mad grin he was wearing that really unsettled her. "Ready."

"Begin!" the Sergeant announced.

"Engarde! Come at me, Mr. Churchill!" shouted Pearl happily. In spite of how important the fight's outcome was, she was having a ball; it was rare that she got the chance to fight an opponent potentially as skilled as she was in the art of swordsmanship.

"TO HELL WITH THAT! YOU COME TO ME, YOU DANCING BANANA!" Jack wiggled his body in a silly little dance.

"Wha...?" Pearl exclaimed, gaping.

WHAM! She just barely got her sword into position to block a small wooden table, thrown with considerable force. It cracked into pieces. The impact wasn't much, but it momentarily threw her off balance. She took a step back to steady herself.

Jack never gave her the chance to recover, flinging his heavy claymore at her. Again, Pearl was forced to focus on deflecting the improvised missile.

WHUMP! Jack's shoulder slammed into her midsection, driving her to the ground. He landed on top of her, using his body weight to hold her in place as he pinned down her sword arm in a firm grip. Still grinning like a lunatic, he raised his free hand to her face…and gave her nose a hard flick.

Pearl let out a surprised yelp and clapped a hand over her injured nose. Laughing, Jack helped Pearl back to her feet then retrieved their swords from the snowy ground.

Over on the porch, the old Sergeant was shaking with a deep, hearty laugh. The others also collapsed into hysterics, slapping knees and pounding the flagstone steps in their mirth.

"Oi, what did we tell ya?" laughed Davis from the doorway. "She's got nothing! Just bluster and nothing to back it up!" He started suddenly in surprise when something heavy impacted his foot with significant force.

"Whoops, Davis, my mistake." The lance corporal from the main desk snickered. "I slipped."

Pearl scowled, but paid them no mind, keeping her focus on Jack. "Those sword tactics were quite unconventional," she huffed annoyedly, pacing the courtyard to settle herself. Her skill and talent with the sword had overcome countless enemies during the Gem Rebellion, but she had just been beaten by a frail human in a matter of seconds.

She had gotten complacent with all her endless practice with her holograms, spending too much time perfecting form over tactics. Jack wasn't fighting to score points at a match, he was fighting to win. She had to do the same.

"Ready when you are!" Jack set himself into a short stance position which would make deflecting a frontal charge easier, then shrugged. "All's fair in warfare! Never expect your opponent to play by the rules!"

Pearl smirked and stepped into an inside-right form, intending to take the initiative on the next attempt. "Ready!"

Up on the steps, the Sergeant looked first to Pearl, who nodded back, and then to Jack, whose grin grew even wider. "GO!"

CLANG! Jack dodged out of the way of the lump of snow Pearl had kicked in his direction. A thrust came slicing towards his shoulder, and he parried, shoving his opponent back hard. "Good! You're mixing it up! Show us what you have!"

"Just playing to win," Pearl grunted, steadying herself. The claymore swiped down towards her legs, and she gracefully leaped over it, dropping into a roll towards her opponent. Before Jack could react, her foot jerked out, connecting with the back of his knee. She twisted back upright, leaning in for a thrust to his chest. Jack stumbled back laughing, but stayed on his feet. His sword came swinging down, swishing through thin air, and she darted out of the way.

It wasn't long until the rest of the furniture in the small yard was suitable only for firewood. as the two opponents exchanged punches, jabs, and the occasional chair part. Pearl was holding back considerably, using only a fraction of her full abilities. She could've used the full force of her speed and strength to end the fight in only a moment, but there was nothing honorable about an unfair match. She couldn't afford to let Jack get hurt.

A few minutes later, the two broke contact. They began to circle each other, looking for an opportunity to continue. Jack's shirt was torn along the sleeve from wrist to elbow. His knees bled from a skid, and his hands were scraped up from a tossed chair. On the other hand, Pearl was dirty from a fumbled landing into a dumpster, but was otherwise unscathed.

"Do you yield yet?" she teased, still hunting for an opening.

"Come on, Jack!" shouted the lance corporal, clapping and hooting enthusiastically. "You can take her!"

"You're going to have some explaining to do to the missus when you get home, Johnny. You've already ruined your best suit jacket and slacks!" The sergeant laughed from his belly once again. "Pearl's proven well enough that she can fight!"

"No way!" Jack leapt towards Pearl, stabbing towards her center. She scrambled to parry it with the tip of her saber, dodging back towards the staircase. "I haven't been knocked down yet, and she's still standing!" He retreated a few steps to plan his next move.

Pearl glanced at the soldiers standing on the steps to make sure the fight wasn't getting too close to them. It wouldn't do for a noncombatant to be injured by a wayward sword or another flying object.

"I'm waiting!" Jack teased, swinging his claymore around to keep his joints warmed up. "The longer you pause, the more time I have to catch my breath and continue!" He began slowly closing the distance between them.

A small part of her consciousness whispered in her mind, exhorting her to tap into her abilities and grant herself just a little edge, just enough to finish this duel in her favor. She could attribute her newfound energy to a second wind, as the humans sometimes called it, and these men would never know.

"Give up!" taunted Davis. "You've put on a good show, but you'll never win against a professional!"

Inspiration struck without warning. She leapt forward, slamming her sword into Jack's and driving him back towards the fence. But rather than finish, she jumped back, turned to the patio, and seized Davis by the collar. With a powerful shove, she pinned him against the office's back wall

"Oi! What are ya doin', ya crazy—!" he shouted; the others laughed, but made no move to intervene in his sudden predicament.

Pearl held him back with one hand and quickly undid his belt with the opposite. With one hard yank, he stumbled forwards, landing knees-first on the ice. Davis was at a loss for words. No one helped him to his feet as he gingerly stood, one hand holding up his pants. His surprise had turned to anger, and he retreated into the building, growling a vicious string of imprecations as he went.

"What in blazes do you intend to do with that?" wondered the lance corporal as Pearl descended the steps, her sword in one hand and the belt held loosely behind her.

"This!" Pearl charged at Jack, but she wasn't really intending to press the attack. Instead, she allowed Jack to easily block the thrust and she let herself fall back, pretending to lose her balance again.

Jack was quick to press the advantage, rushing forward with a downwards swing.

WHAP! Pearl swung the belt up with her off hand, where it caught the blade as it crashed down and wrapped around it. She gave the belt a hard pull, and Jack went sprawling face-down into the snow. With her foot, she nudged his body over and leveled her saber, the point an inch from his sternum.

"I win." she stated, with as straight a face as she could manage. Her impassiveness didn't last long. At first, she started to tremble, then finally fell to her knees, shaking with laughter. "Oh, that was wonderful! Good fight, my friend, and excellent sword play!"

Jack wiped the ice and dirt from his nose and mouth with a scuffed hand. "Good show!" he exclaimed as cheers and applause filled the courtyard at Pearl's victory.

"Seems I'm writing a letter." The old sergeant heaved himself up from his chair. "And I need to check on Davis." Turning the doorknob, he stepped inside to find a writing desk.

Jack lifted himself up on his elbows. "Good double use of Mr Davis' belt there. For a moment, I thought you were going to snap it at me." He paused to rub some more snow from his face. "That was a good move. I wasn't expecting a grab for the sword."

Eyes wet with happy tears, Pearl helped pull Jack up to his feet. Shaking hands one more time, they turned to follow the sergeant and lance corporal back into the building.

Back inside, Pearl picked up a towel from the tea set and sat down on the couch to clean her saber. Jack took a seat across her. Taking up another cloth, he began to do the same for his sword. They sat in silence for a while, focusing on the task while the sergeant finished drafting the letter.

After a few minutes Pearl was finished, and she stood to carry her borrowed weapon back over to its place on the wall. The sergeant met her halfway, holding out a letter.

"Keep the sword," he said. "That was some fight. You've earned it. Anyway, if you're heading to join the commandos, you're going to need it more than we will." The lance corporal approached, carrying a thin scabbard which he presented to Pearl, then handed a sealed envelope to the sergeant.

"Good show, madam." He gave her a respectful nod, then looked to the old soldier. "Please excuse me, Sergeant, I need to go find Davis. He appears to have gone missing." The lance corporal came to attention, clicking his boots together and saluting them both, then disappeared to his new errand.

"Agreed." Jack replaced his own sword on the display mount. The surface had a few new dents and nicks, but was as clean as it was before the fight. "I'll make some calls as well to help smooth things for you."

"Thank you." She smoothly sheathed the sword and slung the scabbard over her back by its carrying strap. "I won't let you down, Mr. Churchill. I'll do my best in serving this nation through the coming storm."

"I'm sure you will do us all proud, Lance Corporal," replied the sergeant.

"Lance Corporal? I thought the entry rank was Private?" Her eyes widened and she clapped a hand over her mouth in embarrassment. "Of course, I don't mean to sound disrespectful or ungrateful…"

"Yes, I talked it over with Sergeant," said Jack, patting her shoulder reassuringly. "We agreed that you're already above a lowly private in both capability and knowledge. You'll make Corporal quickly if you can keep this up."

The Sergeant cleared his throat roughly to get their attention. "I mean no offense, but as you've noticed, some of the men don't like the idea of a woman joining the old boys' club. A higher rank will keep that nonsense to a minimum."

"Thank you, I understand." Stepping back, she saluted smartly, mimicking the who was now thelance corporal, then she headed for the exit. Once again, the office door creaked open. The cold wind blasted in for a brief second, and then she was gone.

"Hold on!" hollered the other lance corporal, running back into the office's common area with a sheaf of forms in his hand. "You forgot your enlistment papers!" He nearly crashed into Jack, who intercepted the young man, blocking his way to the door.

"Let her go, son," the sergeant said. "She doesn't need them."

"But—" the young soldier began to protest, looking frantically from Jack to the sergeant and back.

"Easy, lad," soothed the sergeant. "I wouldn't worry about it. The letter I gave her is addressed for a certain 'Major Dudley Clarke'. That should take care of everything."

Jack nodded in agreement. "Given her unique situation, it's probably best to keep her from the official books."

Seeing it was pointless to resist, the young man sat on the edge of the main recruitment desk. "Why? What was wrong with her? Is she a Boche?"

Jack and the sergeant exchanged a glance; the sergeant nodded approval for Jack to explain. Settling into the sofa he directed the lance corporal to take the seat opposite.

"Because" Jack said firmly, "she wasn't human."

Author's Notes:

Hello, Readers!
This chapter was last edited way back in late 2017. Its been completely re-written for March 31, 2020 with the help of the talented Rodsantos whose efforts brought the text to another level. By our combined efforts we are slowly updating the oldest chapters of this story to correct all the mistakes and bring the early chapters more in-line with later updates.

I confess that I am cheating a bit in this chapter. The British Commandos did not formally organize until around June of 1940. As Pearl is still in early 1939 and is best suited to a special forces-type role, we're going to pretend that in this version of history that there were at least prototype units or unofficial commandos active at that time.

When I was planning the story and trying to figure out how Pearl would cross the Atlantic I was disappointed to learn that the LZ 127 Graf Zeppelin had been decommissioned and scrapped after the Hindenburg disaster. Also, air travel was too rare and expensive back then, and ships would take too long.

History Notes:

* Brisas Bakery & Restaurant: A real and well-reviewed bakery cafe in Elizabeth, New Jersey.

* US Army Recruiting Station - Elizabeth, NJ. A real place you can see on Google Earth.

* LayoverBnB - A real Bed-n-Breakfast about a block from the US Army Recruiting station in Elizabeth, NJ

* Priest's House (the location of London warp pad) - The only one of its kind open to the public, this beautiful fifteenth-century Wealden hall house stands in a traditional cottage garden on the edge of the Ashdown Forest in picturesque West Hoathly. The house was owned in turn by Henry VIII, Thomas Cromwell, Anne of Cleves, Mary I, and Elizabeth I. It is now furnished with seventeenth and eighteenth-century country furniture, while the garden is planted with over 170 culinary, medicinal, and household herbs.

* St. Winefride's Parish, Neston (the church where Pearl rests) - Built in 1843, it's a Catholic church located just outside of London. Built from brick, it has large gardens and a long history of service to the community. I myself am not particularly religious, but I felt it would be a good bit of symbolism and storytelling to include it.

* Reverend George A. Worsley, D.D. (1935-1941) - Rev. Worsley was the parish priest of St. Winefride's Parish in the years leading up to the start of World War II. His biography can be found on the church's website.

* Prayer of the Soldier - I researched a variety of prayers for soldiers and warriors before settling on the one in the story. The full prayer can be found at the following website, and I will probably include it later on.

* John Malcom "Mad Jack" Churchill - Quite the character and personality. His story is well worth the time to read. Look up this real British hero at your local library, or on the website "Badass of the Week" for a wonderfully crude but entertaining description of his exploits and adventures. It is claimed that Churchill also carried out the last recorded longbow killing in action, shooting a German NCO in 1940 during the Battle of France.

* Dudley Clarke - An officer in the British Army, known as a pioneer of military deception operations during the Second World War. His ideas for combining fictional orders of battle, visual deception, and double agents helped define the Allied strategy in that field, for which he has been referred to as "the greatest British deceiver of WWII".

* British Commandos. - Exactly what you think they are. Officially formed in June 1940, but as noted above, we're cheating and pretending they formed or had their beginnings much earlier.

* War Office building - If I'm understanding my history correctly, this used to be the British version of the Pentagon before WWII. The establishment of the position 'Minister of Defence' and later the transition to the current MoD prompted the move to new offices and facilities.

* "Boche" - Popular derisive term for a German, coined by Allied troops in the First World War.