"What happened?"

Kinch was waiting for them, as usual. When they came into view, carrying Carter and Hoffmann, he immediately jumped from his desk and ran over to meet them.

"Go get Wilson," Hogan ordered. "No, wait. LeBeau, you go get Wilson." The Frenchman had staved off his instinct to faint at the sight of Klein's bloody shoulder until they got home. Now that they were safely in the tunnels he was looking decidedly pale.

LeBeau hesitated, wavering between his desire to get Wilson and follow Wagner and Olsen into the room where they were taking Carter and Hoffmann. But there was nothing he could do for them now, so he hurried off to find the medic.

"What happened?!" Kinch repeated urgently.

Hogan shook his head. "Things went sideways," he said. It was the only explanation he could offer at the moment. There hadn't been much of an opportunity to talk until now- Carter and Hoffmann had remained unconscious the whole trip, Klein was suffering from blood loss, and Wagner had gone mute.

"Here." Hogan dug into his pocket and pulled out his micro-camera. "This needs to be developed so we can send it off to London."

He tossed it to Kinch, but Newkirk intercepted it. "I'll develop it," he said firmly. Though he knew how to develop film, it was rarely Newkirk's job. His tone, however, left little room to argue. Honestly, he was doing Kinch a favour. Hogan himself wished he had never seen the images captured on that film.

Hogan shuddered. As far as he could tell, Carter and Hoffman appeared normal, albeit unconscious. But would that change? Would they also become monstrosities like Weiss? Or worse?

Wilson arrived in record time. Hogan beckoned for him to follow him. Wilson's first reaction was to go towards Klein who looked the worst with his bloodied shoulder, but Hogan quickly redirected him towards Hoffmann.

"What happened?" Wilson asked as he began his examination.

Wagner opened his mouth but quickly shut it and looked down into his hands.

"Wagner?" Hogan asked. Wagner just shook his head.

"They injected them with something," Klein explained before Hogan could press Wagner further. "I don't know…" Klein licked his lips and shook his head as if to clear it. His words were slightly more slurred when he continued, "I don't know what it was, but it looked like it hurt. I guess they were waiting to see… waiting to see what happened before they did anything to me and… and Wagner. And then… and then they put them in this room. And that's when…" Klein trailed off and leaned back against the wall. "S'okay. M'kay."

Hogan frowned. The sergeant was decidedly not okay. But, unfortunately for him, he was currently lower on the triage list.

It didn't look like Wagner was ready to finish the story, but at least he could be useful. Hogan grabbed a box of bandages from a nearby shelf and tossed it to him. "Put some pressure on Klein's shoulder, will you?" The box hit Wagner in the chest and dropped into his lap but he didn't move to pick it up. Wilson furrowed his brow and frowned. After a moment, Olsen went over and quickly applied a bandage over the makeshift dressing they had fashioned for Klein in the truck.

Hogan turned his attention back to Wilson. "Well, what do you think?"

Wilson cast a wary glance over the injured men and grunted in frustration. "What do I think? I don't know what to think. What were they injected with?"

"We took some pictures of formulas," Hogan told him. "But it looked complicated. I'm not sure any of us could make heads or tails of it." Not for the first time, Hogan found himself wishing he had taken at least one of the doctors with them- they could explain what was going on.

Wilson pursed his lips and put his hands on his hips. "That's not helpful." He heaved a sigh. "All right, you-" he pointed to Olsen and then paused, curling his finger back in as he eyed Wagner. Then he turned his finger to Hogan. "You, out. I'll do what I can for these two and let you know."

That didn't sound very hopeful, but there was nothing else that could be done. Hogan knew better than to argue with Wilson, especially when he was this frustrated.

Hogan paused in the doorway but then ducked out of the infirmary and went to join LeBeau and Kinch in the radio room. There, LeBeau was telling Kinch everything he knew- which, admittedly, was not much.

"Colonel, what if Hoffmann and Carter end up like Weiss? That's not something we can hide," Kinch said.

"I know. But… I don't know," Hogan said. He hadn't thought that far ahead. His most immediate concern was that they didn't die. So as long as they survived whatever happened to them in that lab that was enough. They could deal with any other ramifications later.

"What if-" LeBeau started but fell silent. He didn't want to say it. What if they died? And right now, Hogan could only give the same answer: he didn't know. Of course, he would figure it out. He would have to. The operation couldn't just fold up, no matter who fell in the line of duty. Even he was replaceable.

There was nothing to do now but wait. As usual, Hogan took to pacing. LeBeau sat on Kinch's desk, dangling his legs and occasionally punching his hand while Kinch absently-mindedly doodled on his notepad. At some point, Newkirk emerged from the dark room and wordlessly handed Hogan a long, thin manila envelope. Hogan tucked it into his jacket pocket. Then Newkirk sat next to LeBeau and magically pulled out a deck of card, shuffling them nervously.

Finally, Wilson appeared in the hall and everyone stopped to watch him as he came into the radio room. No one said anything, simply waiting for his report.

"Klein's going to be okay," he said. "He was lucky the bullet went right through. I can fix him up, but he's lost a lot of blood, so a transfusion wouldn't be a bad idea."

"Okay. What about Carter and Hoffmann?"

"I don't know what you're expecting, Colonel. Without knowing what happened, all I can do is take a watch and wait approach. Hoffmann's running a high fever. Dangerously high. We're going to have to get him up top into the infirmary so I can keep round-the-clock tabs on him."

"We can tell Klink he has the flu," Hogan suggested.

"Fine," Wilson said flatly.

"And Carter?" Newkirk asked anxiously.

"I don't know. He has a very low-grade fever. Other than that, his vitals check out, and he doesn't have any obvious injury, except his leg but that's not new. Other than being unconscious, he seems fine."

"That's good news!" LeBeau cried with relief.

"Yeah…" Hogan said slowly. It didn't seem possible. Not after all he had seen and heard.

"I'll keep him under observation," Wilson promised. "He's supposed to be in the cooler?" At that, Hogan nodded. "Just as well. We'll keep him isolated in there until we can get a handle on what's going on. The less people these two are exposed to, the better."

"All right," Hogan said, blowing out a breath. There was a lot to do and, while part of him wanted to crumble under the weight of everything that had gone wrong, there wasn't time for that. There was never time for that.

"LeBeau, go look up Klein's blood type and scrounge up a donor," Hogan ordered. "Wilson, once he's taken care of, we'll go up and talk to Klink about getting Hoffmann into the infirmary while Olsen and Newkirk get him out of the tunnels. Kinch-" he took the envelope out and dropped it onto the desk. "Mark this top secret and then get on the horn with London and tell them to send a sub. Tell them we have some prisoners and even though they don't know anything, we have plenty enough information on Stone Breaker to pass along. Enough to keep them satisfied anyway."

"On it."

"Wait."

Everyone stopped and looked over to see Carter standing in the doorway of the infirmary. He looked haggard, but resolute.

"Andrew!" Newkirk exclaimed.

"Carter, you're-" Hogan started. Wilson cut him off with a tsk and hurried over.

"What are you doing up? Why do none of you ever stay put? Go back to bed and let me look you over," Wilson ordered.

Carter waved him off. "I'm okay. I think…" He seemed to doubt himself for a moment as he touched his chest, but then squared his jaw. "Yeah, I'm okay."

"You are not. Go lie down," Wilson said.

Carter shook his head and pushed past him, hobbling towards the radio room. "Colonel, you can't send that information off to London."

A frown tugged at Hogan's lips. He really ought to have ordered Carter to listen to Wilson and go back to bed. Or at least ask how he was really feeling. Or, better yet, ask him what the hell had happened in that lab. But, instead, he found himself asking, "Why?"

"Because… you just can't!" Carter exclaimed. Squeezing his eyes shut, he put a first to his forehead. Then, he let out a breath and looked at Hogan, eyes hard with determination. "Colonel, they were trying to make super men. Gods."

"We know that," Newkirk said when Carter didn't continue.

"No… But…" Carter struggled to come up with his words. "You can't… no one can…" Carter looked more and more frustrated. "It's just… you can't count on every god being benevolent."

LeBeau cocked his head to the side. "What do you mean?"

"I think," Kinch said soberly, "he means that once you hand that kind of power to someone, you can't take it back. Once you make one group the übermenschen, they'll inevitably decide who the untermenschen are. And," Kinch continued in a low voice, "the Nazis aren't the only ones with ideas about that."

The words stung because Hogan couldn't refute them.

"Maybe if they perfect it, they'll use it on a good group. But what if they don't?" Carter asked. "What if there's one bad egg?"

"Absolute power, Colonel," Newkirk said slowly. "Do you trust anyone with that?"

Colonel Hogan picked up the envelope and turned it over, inspecting it as the words sunk in. Ultimately, it was his choice. Whether they agreed or not, his men would follow his orders. Time and again, they had proven they were loyal to a fault.

It was a lot of power, Hogan realized. And he knew well his obligation not to abuse it. But he also knew not everyone shared his sense of responsibility. He had met enough insufferable officers to know that. Would he trust any of them to lead an army of supermen? To be supermen themselves?

Then again, it would make defeating Germany that much easier. Save thousands, maybe even tens of thousands of lives.

But then what? Would they just go quietly into the night? Or would they find a new enemy?

There would always be a new enemy, a new cause to justify tyranny so long as men sought power and dominion over each other. But even the well-intentioned couldn't be trusted; there had been many tyrants and despots throughout history who promised utopia, only to wreak death and destruction in its pursuit. And none of them had had the power Stone Breaker promised.

"Colonel," Carter implored gently.

Without a word, Hogan reached over and opened the desk drawer. He pulled out a lighter and lit the corner of the envelope. He watched it burn for a moment and then dropped it into the waste basket.

"Hang London," he said, echoing Newkirk's earlier words.

There would be hell to pay, but hang London just the same. He would deal with it and face the consequences. He had a feeling that getting chewed out was the lesser of two evils.

"Are you done?" Wilson said after they finished watching the envelope burn. "Good. You!" he pointed right at Carter. "Into bed!"

"But I'm-"

"Now!"

Carter ducked his head sheepishly and shuffled back to the infirmary. "And someone get me that damn donor!" Wilson bellowed as he followed Carter. "I swear it's a wonder you're not all dead. Why, if I had absolute power-" Wilson's voice trailed off as he disappeared behind the curtained door.

There was a moment of silence as Hogan and his men sat to contemplate what had just happened. But time was wasting and while Wilson didn't have absolute power, he could still make their lives miserable.

"All right, let's get to it."

Many hours later, Hogan was in the tunnels, holding his ear piece slightly away from his ear. Without divulging too many details, Hogan had told them that they had destroyed the facility housing Project Stone Breaker but had been unable to obtain any information or a scientist. Half an hour later, London was still yelling at him.

"We did our best," Hogan said when there was a pause.

"Obviously your best isn't what it used to be," their London contact snipped. "And you're only four months in!"

"The Nazis won't be making a super army," Hogan said evenly. "That's the important thing."

"We decide what's important, Papa Bear." Hogan didn't reply and waited for London to continue. "Very well. This will be discussed. Goldilocks, out."

With a sigh, Hogan set down the radio equipment and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I think you made the right choice, Colonel," Kinch said as he shut his radio off.

"Yeah. Yeah, maybe," Hogan said. "Time will tell." He tapped Kinch's desk. "All right, get up top. I'll be along in a minute."

"Sure thing, Colonel."

Hogan waited for him to leave and then slipped into another room. Racks of uniforms and clothing greeted him. Hogan grabbed the SS coat he had been wearing earlier and dug into the pocket. Carefully he pulled out the three vials he had swiped from the laboratory earlier that day. He contemplated them for a moment and then moved to the rubbish bin. His hand hovered over it. But instead of dropping the vials, Hogan slipped them into his pocket.

Just in case.