The First Contact War

by 1Ragnarok1

In 2621 a Galactic Republic vessel is found in the Orion Arm, this springboards the United Earth Government into a galaxy at the start of the Clone Wars. A war that will test the 2nd UEG Expeditionary Force as well as the UEG finding out where it fits in this new galaxy, and their new neighbours.

29. The Battered Bastards

The First Contact War

Chapter 29

The Battered Bastards

"Retreat? Hell, we just got here!"

Lloyd W. Williams

2623 July 30th Earth Standard Calendar, LT. Luke Sparrow, Umbara.

Luke had arrived on Umbara a single day ago. He found it strange that some form of life developed enough to build an advanced civilisation here. What confused him even more was that despite the lack of sunlight that there wasn't vast artic tundra and endless miles of snow and ice. Instead the vegetation was everywhere. But the temperature reflected what he expected. -240 Celsius, the ground was frozen solid, water was frozen solid outside urban areas. The thick O.A.D.F. winter or tundra didn't even keep out the cold fully. The winter-like bite effected all the O.A.G. soldiers. Only the vehicles were actually warm and soldiers did what ever they could to get even a minute in one.

They'd been in some unpronounceable Umbaran village for two days. Two days of biting cold, impenetrable black fog, and yet no snow. The fact a world like Umbara existed the way it did, with no sun, and yet there was no snow annoyed him.

The Umbarans cut the road behind them, completely surrounding the 3287th Airborne Division, a mostly South-American division mainly from Brazil, on all sides. While Easy Company had managed to dig in on a hill, vaguely covered by a forest of native trees, the Umbarans still had the high ground and shelter, positioning themselves in the houses of the surrounding towns for a far better vantage point.

Initially, Easy Company sent out patrols trying to determine what they were up against. They knew the Sepi's had taken the town North of them, only about three or four football fields away from the edge of the woods Easy Company was using for cover. And that they'd taken their initial goal of before Easy Company had even arrived.

They repelled the Umbaran's attempts to break their lines almost constantly as they probed the Allied position for weakness. Easy Company did their share of fighting – but they couldn't do much more than hold on and bear the brunt of the assault.

It would be quiet, almost peaceful, and suddenly a quick firefight would break out, it would be over just as quick, with the only evidence of it ever happening being the men screaming for medics.

Everyone waited on baited breath for the Umbarans to start shelling their position again, and shell them they did. They had a new, terrifying weapon that they favoured – The Umbaran mobile heavy cannon. The men couldn't walk or stand together for fear that one shell would take all of them out at once. It didn't take long for Easy Company to learn: if everybody was heading somewhere – like the mess tent – they staggered themselves into groups of two or three. It was something anyone who'd seen one of those shells hit a bunch of their buddies did.

Luke saw Iglesia and Luiz blown into red-mist only hours after they'd dug in. After that, he enforced the staggering rule rigorously.

The Umbarans were relentless. They kept probing, searching for a weak point in the line to shatter the whole defence.

Command constantly shifted men and what limited weaponry they had. Everything from the armoured unit and their tanks, to Heavy machine guns and mortars, to actual ammunition. All in order to fill the gaps in the already thin perimeter line and support the besieged sections. The meagre supplies they was spread sparingly between all of the defenders, each unit borrowing what they desperately needed from everyone else, and everyone gave all they had so someone else might get what they needed to hold the Umbarans off just a bit longer. Eve saw the same guns rotate into and out of the company again and again as they repelled the Umbarans on their portion of the line.

Nobody thought about giving up. Everyone knew what retreating cost them in failed Operation Blizzard – where the Separatist General Zhao had halted the Southern O.A.G. offensive at great cost to the attacking Orionian forces. He had waited for the armoured units to get just far enough ahead and then attack the supply lines, cutting if the attacking units. Eventually this forced the O.A.G. invasion to stop and stagnate to its current position.

They just had to be sparing – had to be cautious and keep holding on – but Luke reckoned they cost the Umbarans a lot of men trying to break their lines, and that was worth the hardship.

But they were still getting hammered and not just by the Umbarans.

The abominable weather was like a second enemy.

The fog rendered air support and resupply near-impossible. Every time Command tried to call in for supplies, the drop would miss them and hit the Umbarans. Easy Company could see the Umbaran's antiaircraft guns going from all four sides of them, firing at any Allied aircraft bold or desperate enough to try to fly in the atrocious weather and provide support for the besieged men on the ground.

It was minus 240 degrees centigrade; it should've be constantly snowing. But Umbara's weird atmosphere that didn't happen. It was just incredibly fucking cold.

All of the servicemen and women had the standard issue tundra-gear. Thick, layered clothing with built in armour heating and yet they still felt the cold. With makeshift fires, they still felt the cold. In their foxholes in their blankets, shrinking in on themselves as to retain as much body-heat as possible, cold was still ever present. It was like sitting in a freezer. But, their limited body warmth melted the permanently frozen ground, so it was actually like sitting in a freezer while soaking wet.

There were no fires. Every time someone tried to light one, the Umbarans used the light to zero their heavy guns on their position. They weathered the artillery barrages in their half dug foxholes. No fires meant there was no warmth, no way to melt the frozen water in their canteens, no way to warm what little food they had. Thirst was setting in. Hunger was an old friend.

The cold turned the ground into concrete. Some of the guys resorted to using grenades to soften the dirt enough for their entrenching tools. Getting deep enough for sufficient cover was nearly impossible.

Nobody slept. The Umbarans liked to shell the woods with mortars at night. The more guys Easy Company lost to the shells, the less they slept and the more guys were put on watch – until no one felt comfortable sleeping at all. It was no sleep, and constant stress, wearing on them all until they were thin shades of the soldiers they'd been before now.

Dante said that deepest pit of hell – the home of Lucifer himself – was a frozen wasteland.

This town was hell on Umbara.

Luke, as a Lieutenant, was in charge of waking the guys up and getting them to the outpost. The rotation on the outpost was every two hours, so at least he could get up and move a bit – not that it helped much.

There was nowhere to go, nowhere to escape the cold or the front lines. They were staying, come hell or high water. They couldn't let the Umbarans break through.

Somebody in Bastogne back in the 20th century had said, "They got us surrounded, the poor bastards."

It became a slogan, a whispered kind of prayer that was repeated so often no one really knew who'd said it first once again.

Luke slid into his foxhole, hiked his shoulders up to his ears, wedged his hands up under his armpits, and settled in, watching the line. His foxhole buddy, Guarnere, was out patrolling the lines and checking on the rest of the platoon so he was alone.

It got dark… really dark, really fast here. Luke was disappointed he couldn't see the stars, but then, it was almost fitting that something that would have made this miserable place more bearable was absent. This place was so wretched it didn't deserve anything beautiful to redeem it. It would have felt mocking rather than wonderful, and Luke wanted to always enjoy the stars.

He heard footsteps behind him and whirled, gun raised. It was Tracinya. She raised his hands in surrender, a smirk on her lips as she crouched next to his foxhole.

"Luke," she said still smiling, "I heard you might've grabbed some aid kits on our way in?"

"Yeah," He said fishing around under the blanket for the pack he'd shoved them in. "I grabbed all I could when we left Camp Frost and from those guys we passed on our way in. Did we already go through the crate from the aid station?" He asked as he dug for the kits. He upended his pack, dumping all of his smaller bags and the other contents onto the frozen ground. Sure enough, near the top of the pile were five or six aid kits with their precious morphine and bandages.

Tracinya picked them up reverently and put them in her own pack as she answered. "I haven't seen it."

Luke cursed. It was bad news, but not entirely unexpected. Ideally, Tracinya would have had her pick of the supplies, but bandages were desperately needed everywhere. He wasn't surprised they'd been transferred out and about with the guns.

"How are you fixed for smokes?" He asked, pulling a pack from his stockpile. Cigarettes provided a pseudo warming sensation, like breathing in fire instead of tobacco and were worth more than gold – not that gold was worth anything out here.

"I won't say no if you've got some to share," She hedged.

Luke tossed her a pack.

"I'm glad you're with us, Luke," She said, tucking the smokes away.

"So am I, I can't stand doing nothing,"

"No, I suppose you can't," said Tracinya with her quiet sincerity.

"I don't know about you but I'm going to get some sleep before the Umbarans start shelling the shit out of this place again."

"You can actually sleep out here? In that gear."

"I know the armour doesn't completely encase us and therefore has no internal heating system but yes, I can sleep out here. Doesn't mean its cosy."

"I better get these to the medic."

---

25031 Galactic Standard Calendar, Tracinya Vizla, Umbara

Tracinya found the other Company medic, Gabriel Spina, in their foxhole.

Somewhat predictably, Lucas hadn't been in his hole. The man was never where you needed him to be.

She didn't have the energy to go hunt their CO down, especially since it wasn't an emergency. Tracinya abandoned her search for the time being.

She was tired.

"Did you get anything?" Spina asked as Tracinya jumped down next to him.

"Lieutenant Sparrow had six kits in that pack of his," Tracinya replied, passing three of the kits to Spina.

"No shit? What about scissors? Did you find any of them?"

Gabe had been looking for scissors since they'd left Camp Frost. Her original pair had somehow disappeared from her pack. Knowing she was going to be in for some teasing, Tracinya reluctantly fished the tiny scissors from her webbings breast pocket. They fitted in the palm of her hand easily, she wasn't sure they'd be any use at all for the kind of cutting he'd need to do in a hurry.

Spina let out a barking laugh. "Those are the puniest excuse of a pair of scissors I've ever seen!" he informed her.

"It was all I could find," she admitted with a grumble.

"I'll keep looking," Spina promised once he'd stopped laughing.

Tracinya nodded. She wasn't entirely sure whether she was slightly irritated that Spina'd been laughing for the last ten minutes at her plight, or grateful. There was precious little to laugh at out here. Every time Spina looked over at her, he started chuckling again.

Playing along, Tracinya sent the medic a glare, and settled in for another long, cold night with a secret smile, grateful for her friends. If she was going to be cold and miserable out here in the woods in what passed for the middle of winter, she was glad he was doing it with people who could still laugh about it.

She'd scout out another blanket for Luke and Guarnere when she got up in an hour to check the line again. She just needed a few minutes of sleep first.

---

2623 July 31st Earth Standard Calendar, LT. Luke Sparrow, Umbara.

The next day, Luke slid into a foxhole with Lieutenant Garcia. Everyone swapped holes and people in them as they lost men and were reassigned to fill the holes in the line. This had the added benefit of keeping them from monotony.

No one wanted to be above ground for long.

The Umbarans had developed a new kind of terror. They pelted them with shells that had a shortened fuse so they exploded in the treetops, raining shrapnel down from above in the form of giant splinters. They skewered men sometimes. Luke would rather just be blown to hell than be skewered to death, riddled with wooden spikes.

Garcia was one of his favourite people to share a hole with for the simple fact that he was one of the guys who gave off the most heat.

He hadn't seen much of him since he got in from Camp Frost. He didn't say much, though apparently he spoke often before.

If Luke did see him off duty he was often staring off into the distance at something only visible in his mind.

It was that hospital, he knew. The death and pain he saw there changed him.

Hospitals were supposed to be a place of healing, and yet he'd never seen the kind of trauma they could induce equalled, despite being in the middle of a warzone. Garcia had a vacant – almost dead – look in his eye.

No, Luke never, ever wanted to see anything more of the hospitals than what He'd already seen. He'd rather die on the line and have done with it. No, he would die on the line or receive a minor wound that didn't require cassevac.

Who knows if he'd actually feel like that if he was ever actually holding on for his life and Luke sent a fervent prayer that he'd never find out.

He was grateful that Garcia had had the strength to come back, even if he wasn't as verbose as he used to be. He was still an effective leader – and the men needed him desperately.

So he was content to sit quietly in their foxhole, a blanket from Tracinya on his shoulders, and wait for Garcia to acknowledge him.

It took him a while.

He shivered and hunched further under the blanket. Frustrated though he was at Tracinya for following through and expending the effort to get him a blanket from their finite resources, he was ridiculously grateful for it right now.

It took a while, but finally, Garcia's eyes started to clear.

He smiled at him as he blinked at her.

"Fancy meeting you here," He said, as though he hadn't been waiting for him to notice her for the last ten minutes.

"Yeah," he said, quietly.

Now that he was aware, and he wasn't likely to spook him. Luke leaned back against the cold side of the foxhole. Pulling the blanket over him as though he could lose it and any second, he curled up and tried to get some sleep in the frozen hell of Umbara.

---

25031 Galactic Standard Calendar, Tracinya Vizla, Umbara

The next night, Tracinya was on watch up on the line just before dawn. Her foxhole buddy for the day, Menendez, was still sleeping. Last night they'd been pulled to fill a gap in the line in the middle of the night. She'd only insisted that the man try to sleep a couple hours ago, roughly an hour after they'd moved to the line, so it was down to her to keep watch until they got rotated back.

Tracinya hid a cough in her sleeve, trying not to wake Menendez. She'd known she was getting sick for a while, could feel it coming on the way you could sometimes sense illnesses, long enough that she'd made the decision to keep it quiet.

Nearly everyone was sick and coughing, a product of insufficient clothing and not enough food. She and Spina couldn't do anything about it, any medicine they might have had was long gone.

Tracinya refused to get off the line – as most of the sick did – they needed every last body to keep the Umbarans at bay.

So she dealt with her cough quietly and tried to keep people from noticing it.

Despite her efforts, Menendez woke up.

Damn it, she thought, watching him blink awake. It's not even dawn yet. She'd had plans to let him sleep until sunrise, well… when the sun would shine and not reach the ground through the atmosphere, at least that were now utterly spoiled. He wasn't going back to sleep now.

"What the fuck, Vizsla," he said lifting his head up to peer at her. "You sick?"

"No," she denied.

"You sound sick," he said. "Com'ere." He held out a hand to check for a fever.

She batted it away with a scowl. "I'm fine," she insisted.

He gave her a suspect look, certain she was sick now that she was actively dodging him. "You wanna catch some sleep?" he offered, knowing he wasn't going to get anywhere with the sick angle.

She gave him a look, but decided not to argue. Truth be told, her eyes had been closing a little too often for the last hour. It was probably for the best that he took over now. "Sure," she magnanimously as she positioned her bag to use as a makeshift pillow. If she was lucky, she'd get a few hours in before they had to go on patrol again.

Her last memory before sleep was Menendez cursing as he fussed with spreading a blanket over her, scooting in closer.

---

2623 July 31st Earth Standard Calendar, LT. Luke Sparrow, Umbara.

The sun would just creeping light across the trees, not that they could see the vibrant colours of sunrise properly with the atmosphere blocking it out. But the vibrant luminous lights from the vegetation would do.

Spina needed supplies desperately, and the only place he could think that might have any was Third Battalion. Being unable to go himself he had asked Luke to do it for him. He wanted to take someone along, and he decided to ask Tracinya. He'd spent a good while trying to find her behind the line before being informed that her squad had been pulled up to the front sometime last night.

After too long looking, he finally found his friend sleeping under Menendez's watchful eye. The crunch of snow announced him, and Gabe met the man's eyes. Menendez barely glanced at him before glancing down at Tracinya with concern and then turning back to look out across the frozen wasteland beyond their line.

"She all right?" he asked the man.

"Coughin'," answered Menendez, ratting her out while she couldn't tell him not to. "Hasn't been sleepin' much," he commented. He went on to mention that Tracinya had snapped awake nearly every fifteen minutes to try and convince him to turn over the watch again.

"I'll watch out for the cough," Luke assured the man before reaching down to shake the woman awake.

"Rise and shine," crowed Luke.

"Shut up," she said sleepily, sitting up. "Luke?" She looked surprised to see him squatting outside their hole. "What's up?"

"I need to find Third Battalion," he said.

"I'll come with you," she interrupted before he could even ask, gathering her helmet and Westar Carbine from where they were resting within easy reach. "You all right by yourself for a while, Dez?" she asked the man.

"Yeah, you go," Menendez said already focused on the line again.

"Thanks," she murmured, took the hand Luke offered her, and climbed out of the hole.

It took only twenty minutes before they found themselves at Battalion CP thanks to Tracinya's sense of direction. Tracinya gave Luke a triumphant smile. He clapped her on the shoulder as they trotted into camp. The errand had taken far longer than expected – especially since they were unsuccessful – and Luke, at least, was eager to get back and make sure his men were still in one piece.

As they moved forward, a figure emerged from the fog. It was Captain Santiago. He was sitting out on the edge of his foxhole behind the CP. Stone hard soldier that he was, he was trying to shave judging by the lather on his face, but obviously hadn't started.

A crack sounded to Santiago's left drawing Tracinya's attention.

Seeing his people out in the open, santiago hissed. "Sparrow, Vizsla, down!"

Tracinya obeyed immediately, sinking into a crouch with Luke only a beat behind her, eyes on Santiago.

The captain abandoned his shaving paraphernalia and gave the signal to fall in. He grabbed his M60-AR from where it rested in front of him and whipped around so that his eyes were focused on where the noise had originated.

Luke and Tracinya fell right in behind him. As a team of three, they crept forward toward the sound. Luke wasn't sure what it was, but he held his rifle ready for anything. They were way too close to the CP to allow strange noises to go unchecked.

They'd only gone about ten feet, barely reaching the crest of the hill the CP was on, when Santiago stopped and pulled his gun into firing position. Luke was just able to make out a bent humanoid shape in the mist beyond them, a luminous green glow where the head would be. He flanked Santiago on his left, also getting into firing position while Tracinya got to his right side and crouched down. The more their numbers, the less likely the lone man would put up a fight.

The man appeared to be getting ready to take a shit. Luke hoped so; it meant that he was unlikely to have a bunch of buddies waiting in the wings that they couldn't see.

Santiago waited until he was certain the man was in no position to fire. He glanced at Luke, asking without words that he had a kill shot lined up in the off chance that his own missed. He nodded, slowing his breathing in the anticipation of taking a kill shot. Two loud cracks reverberated throughout the forest as two shots hit the Umbaran centre-mass and went down with a cry of pain as the plasma ate away through the man's armour and flesh. Santiago took another shot, ending the Umbaran's suffering.

---

A jeep's distinctive engine came buzzing up. Luke and Tracinya turned with Santiago to acknowledge the passengers. Santiago exchanged a furrowed look with them. From the look on his face, he hadn't ordered a jeep. Must be a VIP, Luke thought.

He was right.

Colonel Sink hopped out of the back of the jeep with an unfamiliar – but imposing figure riding shotgun. "Gent's you all know General McAuliffe, acting Division Commander," he introduced.

Luke hung back with Tracinya and observed the man who'd taken over for General Taylor (who'd apparently discovered that he didn't like being shot at and disappeared back to orbit who knows how long ago). McAuliffe seemed stern from a distance, imposing and unfriendly, but then he'd apparently come up with this plan for holding the line around the village, so Luke wasn't exactly inclined to like him.

"Give it to me straight," the General said, approaching Lieutenant Colonel Strayer, who'd come out of the CP to meet him.

"We have been taking ground in one position, General, and losing it in another," admitted Strayer, helmet in his hand.

"And now it looks like a standoff," continued Strayer. "We're digging in on the edge of the forest." He turned to acknowledge Santiago, who had come up to join him and had more information on the subject.

Obligingly, Santiago picked up the narration. "We're under sporadic artillery fire, General. We're taking a lot of hits, and we have no aid station. We've run out of food, we have no winter clothes, and we have little or no ammo. The line's spread so thin the enemy wanders into our CP to use our slit trenches, sir. We just can't cover the line."

Tracinya inhaled a little too deeply and a chest-wracking cough spilled out of her mouth.

Colonel Sink's drew General McAuliffe's attention to Captain Mateo. The good Intelligence Officer's timing was impeccable as he emerged from his covered foxhole with his own ragged cough. From the still closed state of his eyelids, Luke would bet that he'd only come out to tell whoever it was talking to shut up.

"Good morning, Captain Mateo," said Sink before Mateo could even open his mouth to speak – which was probably for the best. "You got anything to add for General McAuliffe?"

Sink was clearly aware of Mateo's less than cheery attitude in the morning – and was helping the man keep his foot out of his mouth. Luke might've laughed at the byplay if the General wasn't here to witness.

Also, the sun would've been almost directly overhead, making it morning by the barest of definitions.

Mateo blinked up at Colonel Sink, bewildered at his sudden unexpected audience and visibly gathered himself. "General, uh," he said, pulling himself out of his hole. "Yes, sir." Mateo took a deep breath, and when he spoke, his voice was even – with only the barest hint of derisive sarcasm.

"General, I took a walk on our line at about 0300 last night," reported Mateo. "I couldn't find the 501st on our right flank. I tied it in with a squad from our second platoon," he said in exacerbation as he waved a hand to indicate Tracinya. It was her squad he'd woken up and had move up to the line. "But sir, we've got some considerable gaps in our perimeter."

"I don't have enough people, sir," said Strayer in summation. "We're spread too damn thin."

"Hold the line, Colonel," was the stout reply from McAuliffe.

Luke was confused. He exchanged a dumbfounded, perhaps incredulous look with Tracinya. Didn't Santiago and Strayer both say – in terms anyone should understand – that we're in no condition to hold the line?

"Close the gaps," ordered the General as he and Sink re-boarded the jeep. "This damn fog won't lift any time soon, so you can forget about air cover. Your First Battalion just pulled out of Foy, Umbarans on their tail. Tanks, artillery, got no back up. There's a lot of shit headed this way."

They drove off, leaving only the ominous warning behind.

"What do we do?" Tracinya asked him.

"We hold the line," said Luke. "It's the only thing we can do."

He clapped Tracinya on the shoulder before heading back to his hole, back to his squad.

---

25031 Galactic Standard Calendar, Tracinya Vizla, Umbara

Tracinya left the CP for the line with a sinking feeling in her stomach. Luke had decided to linger at the CP for a while – hoping Santiago would have something in his aid kit to spare. But with the bad news from command, Tracinya was eager to re-join her guys.

She knew her squad had dug in on the far right flank of the line, so she was in for a bit of a walk through camp to get there.

"Sarge!" someone cried. To her surprise, it was Samuel. He and Diego were tucked into the foxhole she was passing, boiling coffee in a spare helmet. Luckily, they called out to her, or she would have missed them completely.

She barely kept from sagging in relief. They're off the line.

Strewn blankets and sleeping bags meant that they'd probably even managed to get some sleep.

Someone had been looking out for her guys.

"Hey, Sam," she said crouching down. It served the purpose of allowing her to relish the warmth of her own body for a minute. "How's it going?"

He yawned. She bit her lip to keep from grinning.

"Doin' good, Sarge," he said. "Want some coffee?"

"Nah," she said, waving away the cup he held out to her. The last thing she needed right now was coffee; she wanted to sleep as soon as she was able to lie down. "I'm gonna check on the other guys. Anybody out on the line still?"

"I think we all got rotated back," answered Diego. He had huddled down into the smallest ball possible, staring at the barely steaming metal with acute longing. The one good thing about the fog was that during the daytime it hid any smoke from fires, so at least their food and beverages had a fighting chance of getting lukewarm, not that it stayed that way for long. "Mateo is with Paplo over there somewhere."

"That's good. You get some sleep?" she asked to confirm her suspicions.

"Yes, mother," drawled Samuel, a teasing twinkle in his eyes despite his flat voice.

"If I was your mother, Samuel, I'd smack you for giving me lip."

He smiled at her and she could tell that his mood had lightened considerably, which had been the point.

She gave them an admonishment to keep warm in her finickiest tone, the one she donned when she was trying to impersonate her mother's fussing.

She got actual laughter for it, so she stood up and strode off. She had others to find if she wanted to get some sleep before she got drafted for watch again.

She meandered through the scattered foxholes, looking inside each for her men. She exchanged jokes and pleasantries with them as she found them – even with the usually taciturn Nicolas. It brightened her mood because they all seemed to be doing okay. If her men could be in good spirits, despite how miserable they were, so could she.

Tracinya was on her way up the line, still looking for Spina and Diego – who hadn't been with Nicolas like Jackson presumed – and were still missing and nowhere to be found behind the line with the others. She hoped they'd been the first ones rotated back and were on a second shift; if not, she was going to take over for them. She could wait a few hours to sleep so her guys could get some now.

She stopped when she saw Spina digging a hole right on the line. Kriff, we're spread so thin even the medics have been called up to hold the position.

"Spina, want some help?" Tracinya offered.

"Nah, I'm 'bout done here." He waved her off, slinging out shovelfuls of dirt in the steady pattern recommended for digging foxholes.

"Have fun," she said, trying to remember where she'd moved to last night.

"Hey," he called after her, "how'd it go?"

"Don't ask," she said. She saw Luke coming up out of the corner of her eye and decided to let him tell Spina the news. When she thought over the plethora of bad news that she'd learned today, everything from their dangerously low supplies, to the battering First took, to the wandering Third, it was disheartening and exhausting. She just wanted to find her guys, rotate them out if they hadn't been, and get some shuteye.

She passed Lieutenant Dike, looking lost and confused, staring up into the barren tree branches but left him alone. She wondered what he was looking for – or worse, what he was seeing that she wasn't – and didn't ask. He always looked a bit dazed, but at least he was in camp for now.

He wandered by without acknowledging her either, which was typical of him.

Dike was well in the running to become her least favourite commander, Sobel only slightly edging him out because Dike hadn't actually done anything yet. He was way too busy looking good in front of the brass to be of any use in the field. He constantly meandered off to parts unknown. He gave confusing, contradictory instructions about what he wanted them to do. And he never led from the front. He was a disaster waiting to happen; she could feel it in her bones.

But most of all, Tracinya disliked him because he ignored her completely.

Apparently, he didn't know how to address her as both a woman and a Sergeant and so solved this problem by doing neither. It was enough to make her scream. Thanks to Dike's prejudice and ineptitude, the other NCOs and Lieutenants were overworked, while she was left to be idle.

Fortunately, First Sergeant Sanchez wasn't prejudiced or blind. He redistributed the assignments after Dike issued them, mostly because Dike didn't appear to know what his exact orders should be, and thus left it up to Sanchez.

Tracinya was tired of being ignored. But there was nothing she could do about the man.

She put Dike out of her mind after she passed him. So what if he never gave her assignments, everyone else did, and there was enough slack to pick up that she was never idle.

Sanchez caught sight of her as she went by and called her name. She turned and waited for him to come over to within earshot of her. "How'd it go? Did you find Third?" he asked with a hopeful smile.

Tracinya wasn't surprised that Sanchez knew about her expedition with Luke. And he'd probably been responsible for shifting her guys around. She shook her head, sorry to disappoint him, "No, we got lost. This damn fog makes it impossible to see beyond twenty yards."

"Shit," he said, face falling. He was one of the few people privy to the knowledge that their medics were out of nearly everything.

"Yeah, and that's not all," she said. Sanchez was one of the few people she would ever tell about the rumours she'd heard, first hand or otherwise. Rumours could be dangerous – "loose lips sink ships," and all that.

"First Battalion got kicked out of Foy. Umbarans chased 'em out. General McAuliffe was here to get Santiago's and Strayer's report, we got orders to hold the line." He blinked at her; that's what they'd been doing all along. "My squad got pulled to cover where the 501st left us hanging in the wind last night at 0300."

He nodded, he'd probably figured that out this morning when he'd gone to check the line. "Yeah, I've got Diego and Paplo covering your hole right now," he informed her.

"They get off the line for some sleep?"

"Chow too," he assured her. He looked at her face, seeing the tired lines and bags under her eyes. "Why don't you sack out off the line for a bit."

Tracinya shook her head. "I'll be fine."

Sanchez met gave her a look. She frowned back, daring him to comment when he was just as tired as she was.

He backed down.

Tracinya had more to tell him, though, before he could slip away. She gripped his arm and lowered her voice. "That's not the worst of it. Captain says we're out of food." She let the blow sink in before she delivered another one. "Spina's down to his last syrette of morphine, maybe his last bandage."

He sighed heavily and seemed to sag under the weight of her news, but he nodded. "You did good, Trace." He touched her shoulder. Somehow, it made her feel better. "Go find a hole and get some sleep," he ordered.

"Yes, sir," she said, giving him a nod.

She was just about to leave when Lieutenant Dike's panicked voice pierced the air, "First Sergeant Sanchez!"

"Sir?" Sanchez called back, straightening. He rolled his eyes at her, which made her laugh, but it turned into a cough, her eyes watered in pain as she struggled to draw freezing air into her lungs. She bent over, her body convulsing with the force. He pounded her back a couple times to loosen the cough. She straightened after what felt like far too long and sucked down air. She nodded to let Sanchez know that she was all right.

He gave her a final pat on the back, not able to put off going to Dike any longer, and said, "Keep warm, Trace," as he hustled off to see what the man wanted.

Tracinya hurried off as well, mostly so Sanchez wouldn't come back and start mollycoddling her. She was relieved that she didn't have to go back on the line. Now that she was satisfied that her squad had been rotated back for some rest, she desperately wanted to find a vacant hole to sack out in. She really didn't want to have to dig a new one, but she would give it a good shot if it meant some sleep.

Tracinya was fortunate; she found a hole that was – for now at least – empty. She slid into it gratefully, body still wracked with after coughs and shivering anew. She took off her helmet, set it aside, and ran a hand through her hair. It was longer than she'd allowed it to get since joining the Army. She meant to go to the barbers before leaving, but there hadn't been time. Tracinya took comfort that she wasn't the only one looking scruffy. A lot of the men had grown beards in deference to the cold.

She inched down the dirt wall, trying to get comfortable. She'd retrieve her pack from Diego later. It had her name on it, but she wasn't concerned that anyone would take anything from it. She took her helmet off and leaned her head back against the dirt. Force above, I miss the sun, she thought.

Between progressively longer and longer blinks she drifted off.

"Goddamnit," grumbled Toye behind her, "My socks are soaking wet."

She blinked awake, confused. Why is he being so loud? she thought, resenting Toye with her all her might for waking her. She'd only managed a couple moments of sleep – if she was any judge, which she might not be if she was being completely honest. She sat up, intent on chewing him out, she was trying to sleep for force's sake.

"Toye-"

Between one blink and the next the world exploded with fire and brimstone.

"Get in a hole!" she bellowed, somehow finding her feet despite the earth bucking and rolling underneath her. Everyone above ground dove for a foxhole.

Tracinya's sight flashed white. Her ears were ringing as a wave of dirt pelted her face. She blinked, desperately trying to regain her senses.

"Toye!" she cried, hoping others could hear her since she couldn't hear herself. She blinked a few more times and saw Toye lying exposed only feet from her hole, also blinking stupidly, trying to understand what happened.

Tracinya lunged over the sloped edge of her hole, grabbed two fistfuls of the man's carrier, and hauled him backwards into her foxhole. Another blast shook the ground. Tracinya flung herself over Toye, getting off him as soon as debris stopped pelting her back. She patted him down frantically, checking for wounds and praying she wouldn't have to call for Spina.

Toye sat up sputtering but unharmed. Somehow, the shell merely knocked him flat on his ass rather than chewing him up and spitting him back out in pieces. Toye's infamous luck had manifested at just the right moment once again and kept him safe.

Blast after blast fell over them, every imaginable weapon being used, from the screaming rockets to the new devils that burst in the tree branches. Tracinya braced herself against the assault, knowing from what little she could hear over the cacophony of sound and an overwhelming amount of first-hand experience that the Umbarans were hitting the entirety of the line, not just right above them.

Frazzled, desperately falling back on her training, Tracinya grabbed her Westar Carbine and faced where the line would have been if they were on it. She needed to have her gun up and ready in case the artillery was a prequel for something nastier coming through the trees.

Some fool was screaming for a medic. Tracinya tried to figure out who it was, but the sound was jumbled up in the cracking boom of mortar fire. She prayed that Spina wasn't the one bounding about.

The man screaming had better be fucking dying to call for a medic in this shit, she thought.

The trees cracked into sharp pieces. Tracinya was certain she was going to be skewered any moment, impaled by these giant spikes made from the very things that offered them miniscule protection and cover. It was a nightmare brought to life.

Arms yanked her back down into cover.

"Are you crazy!" shouted Toye, his breath hot in her ear. Her hand flew for her helmet, suddenly terrified when her hand didn't meet frosty metal. Her eyes flew around, searching for it, for the protection it provided.

When a third blast hit close enough to yank the earth from beneath them, Toye pulled into his chest and covered her out of instinct. He wrapped an arm around her neck and held on. Tracinya mouthed prayers into his chest, beseeching the Force to help her survive this hell.

The shelling stopped.

Tracinya held still and kept her eyes closed in case it was going to start again. Toye echoed her heavy breathing above her. Neither wanted to move and break the tableau of the suddenly silent forest.

When it didn't, she wriggled free from his locked arms and searched for her helmet. It was still lying on the side of her foxhole. She grabbed it and turned it over in her hands to look it over. No damage that she could see. That was a relief. If it had been damaged there was no way she was getting a new one.

Wayward equipment located, she gave Toye a more thorough inspection, verifying that he had indeed escaped injury.

"You all right?" she asked, likely shouting over the ringing in her ears. She drew in a couple quick breaths to try and calm her pounding heart as the waxing adrenaline kick drained her of energy. Something went awry and she was coughing again.

Toye pounded on her back, which let her see his stocking clad feet. She gasped, which sent her back into the depths of her coughing fit, much to Toye's concern.

After far too long, Tracinya was finally able to breathe enough to gasp out a question. "What the fuck happened to your shoes?"

Toye looked down at his feet, probably only just noticing the absence of his boots only now that Tracinya had mentioned it. He looked back at the smoking crater that used to be his foxhole.

"Fuck," he said. "I took 'em off to change my socks."

Tracinya looked over where his hole used to be. "Well, they're gone now."

"No shit," he said.

Tracinya took a closer look at his feet and winced. His socks were soaked through. She thought it over for a second and made a decision.

"Stay here," she told him.

"Where else would I go?" he asked, and then he noticed her getting out of the hole. "Where the hell are you going?" he demanded.

"I'll be right back," she assured him. "Diego's got my bag up on the line. I need it." She ran off.

It took only a few steps to realize that she hadn't exactly gotten that sleep she'd needed. She was exhausted. It wasn't until she stopped that she remembered her cough. She decided to refrain from future running if at all possible. It was getting a little hard to breathe.

She found Diego and Samuel easily enough, and greeted them with a "Hey, boys."

"Sarge," said Samuel while Diego offered her a smile.

"Do either of you happen to have my pack?" she asked, noting that not only were both unharmed, but both also had blankets.

"Here you go, Sarge," said Andres, passing it to her.

"Thanks," she said, slinging it over her shoulder. "Stay warm, alright fellas?"

"You got it ma'am," said Samuel.

Tracinya gave them both a smile and hustled back to Toye, trotting rather than the aborted run she'd tried, memory fresh of coughing up her lungs. The cough wouldn't be half as frustrating if she was actually coughing something up.

Toye had surprisingly enough, stayed put. She hopped next to him with a thud, already rustling through her pack. In a matter of moments, she was pulling out her old socks. She sank down to the floor shed her own boots.

"No, Sarge, come on!" Toye protested as Tracinya pulled off her newer socks and gave them to him, revealing the double layer she'd been wearing.

She ignored him, tugged on the old, threadbare socks, and quickly slid her now freezing feet back into her boots. She sent him a scathing look and dared him to give them back.

He gave her a look, but didn't argue as he sat down to pull them on over his wet ones.

"Come on, you know better," she scolded him. "Dry socks over wet will do you absolutely no good. Let the other ones dry and double up when you can."

"Yeah," he said. He glared and pulled off his wet socks, hanging them around his neck to dry and likely freeze.

Tracinya pulled out her scarf and used her bayonet to cut it in half.

"What're you doing?" protested Toye.

"Do you have a better idea?" she said and proceeded to wrap each of his now socked feet in half her scarf, tying it on in a rough approximation of a shoe. It would do very little for keeping his feet dry in the long run, but layers couldn't hurt until they found something better.

"You need to tell the Doc or Spina," she told him. "They might be able to find you some replacements."

He gave her a flat look. It was optimistic and she knew it. Also, no way was he going to bother anyone, particularly the Doc for shoes, and she knew it. Spina might double as a supply officer, but you had to have supplies in the first place to distribute it.

Tracinya gave him one right back. If he didn't tell Roe, she would. Considering the matter settled, Tracinya leaned back, allowing her head to rest unimpeded on the frozen dirt. It beat ice-cold metal and a crick in her neck. Now that the shelling was over and her adrenaline was crashing, Tracinya felt the need for sleep more acutely than ever.

"Was anybody in that hole before it went up?" Tracinya forced herself to ask.

"Nah," he said, "Lopez and I just got pulled up to the OP. I was trying to change my socks before I joined him."

"You should go then," she said, "He's probably worried about you."

"You got it, Sarge," he said and climbed out of the hole. "You got a buddy?" he asked.

"No," she said. "I was just trying to get some sleep."

"I'll find you one before I go then." He didn't let her protest. "Lopez can wait a little longer," he insisted.

"M'kay," she said at a hum, and closed her eyes to wait.

---

2623 July 31st Earth Standard Calendar, PVT. Alejandro Toye, Umbara.

It didn't take long before Toye found Bull alone in a foxhole, up on the line.

"Hey Bull," he said. "You alone?"

"Yeah, Torez got hit in the arm so Doc sent him back. Tow of the guys are supposed to be comin' up to relieve me soon."

"Sergeant Vizsla needs a buddy when you get there," Toye told him. "I gotta get to the OP. You think you can find her?"

"You got it."

"Thanks. She doesn't look too good."

"Why," asked Bull, concerned. "What makes you say that?"

"She's probably just tired. She was coughing a bit though," he said.

"Hell, Toye, everyone's coughin'."

"You know what I mean," said Joe.

Everyone did. Vizsla coughing wasn't anything like good. Sure some of the guys had coughs, but somehow – and Toye wasn't sure how – Sarge had become a sort of mascot to Easy Company. If she was there toughing it out with them, they could get through anything. Her illness seemed like a terrible omen.

"You go," said Bull. "I'll find her."

"Thanks," said Toye, nodding.

"Hey, Toye?" said Bull as he stood up. "What happened to your boots?"

---

25031 Galactic Standard Calendar, Tracinya Vizla, Umbara

In what felt like only the span of a blink, Bull slid into her hole. Tracinya looked up and smiled at him, more than a little on her way to sleep.

The big man draped a blanket over her, pulling her close so she could share his body heat. She hadn't even noticed that she was shaking from the cold until the tremors that had wracked her body subsided slowly.

Tracinya, now considerably warmer, drifted off to sleep. After having to re-entrench themselves last night, her adventure with Luke, and the shelling they'd just endured, she was so exhausted she couldn't think straight.

She could've sworn she'd only closed her eyes for a moment, but when she pried them open again, it was dusk. Bull was still there, fiddling with his mug. She peered into it, nosy.

"Go get some chow," he told her, not letting her have any of his.

It was the best idea she'd heard yet. She realized suddenly that she hadn't eaten all day. Shrugging out of the blanket she'd been bundled in – and she didn't want to know where it had come from – she got up to go find some chow.

She fell into line for the mess tent, prying her mug from the base of her canteen and flipping the handle out. She got her mug filled with the same single scoop that everyone got, and found a place to sit down with her spoon – deciding not to go back to her hole just yet. She saw a group of guys sitting around and considered joining them. Sanchez, Deigo and Penkala were always good for some amusement. They were laughing their asses off about something called Hinkle.

Babe and a replacement were with them as well. She thought the kid's name might have been Julian, but he was exceedingly shy around her, so she didn't know him very well. It wasn't uncommon for the newer guys to be shy, or wary, so Tracinya decided not to kill their mood by joining them.

Her eyes found Luke a little way away off to the group's left. He was sitting on a box of some kind using a tree as a backrest, smoking a cigarette, and listening in on the laughing conversation; part of the group but separate. She walked up next to him and waited for him to acknowledge her with a smile before she sat down. If he wanted privacy, well, she could let him have it, but in her opinion, he was alone far too often for his own good after Mandalor.

She sat down with a sigh and dug in. Her food was now on the cold side of lukewarm but she closed her eyes and imagined that she was eating a warm beef stew. The rich taste of the red meat and the soft buttery feel of the potatoes, the caramel taste of the carrots and the thick, salty gravy it was nestled in. She almost tricked her mouth into believing it.

Despite her efforts in taking very small bites to stretch the experience, her meal was over far too soon. She looked up to see Luke looking her over. She gave him a smile and saluted him with her mug, which she'd wrapped her hands around to try and absorb the miniscule but quickly fading warmth from the metal. He huffed a laugh and made another drag on his cigarette before flicking the butt away. She reached into one of her inner webbing pockets and pulled out another one for him, passing it to him with utmost secrecy and solemnity. She wanted no one to know that she still had smokes, or she'd never be left alone.

He lit it with a lighter from his pocket, which was good, because Tracinya didn't have one to offer him a light with.

The snow was falling heavily now, getting inside her mug and melting to water with the miniscule amount of residual heat. It seemed there was snow on Umbara after all.

Dominic, their cook, came around with a giant pot, dolling out heated ration bars. They were made of protein and honey, maybe a little chocolate, but they tasted like cardboard. He deposited one into her mug once he'd finished with the larger group. Tracinya picked it up and offered it to Luke, who hadn't eaten, or had already eaten, she wasn't sure which. He pinched off a bit of the end and popped it into his mouth.

She bit off the other end, small bites again. This might be the last food she got until dinner tomorrow. She tried to offer Luke more, but he shook his head and gave another drag to the cigarette between his lips.

Tracinya gave him a suit-yourself shrug and ate the rest of it.

"Anybody seen Lieutenant Dike?" Lieutenant Matais asked tiredly as he wandered by. He had the air of a man who had asked that question a thousand times and wasn't expecting a fruitful answer here either.

"Uh, try Battalion CP, sir," said Diego.

The lieutenant nodded and wandered off to go try there again.

"Try Earth," bitched Penkala with a snort.

"Try Hinkle!" said Samuel, and they were all laughing again.

"Hinkle, sweetie, I'm home!" said Penk.

"Hey, Spina," said Babe, turning to face the medic. He had his food speared on the end of his spoon like a sausage link. "Lieutenant Dike's got a full aid kit, try him."

"Yeah," said Diego, "I'm sure he's not using his."

"Maybe Hinkle's got a syrette for ya!" said Julian.

Spine, who'd been fiddling with the straight stick he used to tighten tourniquets, smiled around his cigarette and nodded. That was probably true.

Tracinya tried to will more warmth into the metal canteen she was holding, but whatever warmth she felt in the metal was only in her imagination. So, with a resigned sigh, she got up. She should probably spell someone from the line now since she'd had a bit of rest.

She fished out another smoke and handed it surreptitiously to Luke. He gave her a smile she returned and she gave his shoulder a pat as she walked by.

"Hey Trace," said Luke, catching her before she'd walked too far away. "You go get some more rest, alright?"

She nodded and changed direction towards the hole she'd abandoned Bull in. Sometimes there were orders she was only too happy to follow, and she wasn't stupid enough to defy Luke just because he couldn't technically order her around. His disappointed-in-you face could make Guarnere apologize.

She fell asleep to some nut jobs getting a lecture for singing. She hoped it wasn't her nut jobs, but was sleeping before she could convince herself to stand up and go make sure.

What kind of idiot is singing in this miserable place anyway?

The sound of defiant humming cropped up in the wake of the singing tune, one of those songs that had been sung over and over while they were waiting in foxholes for the world to erupt into violence once more, and yet meant that for now at least, there was peace.

---

"I'm running a patrol," one of the replacement officers announced that night, waking everyone up in the area with his announcement. He was a lieutenant, fresh out of an academy and eager to prove himself. "I need some volunteers."

"Sir," said Guarnere from the foxhole across the way a bit, "we don't need to run a patrol, we already know where the enemy is."

"We're running the patrol, Sergeant. That's an order. I need volunteers!" he snapped.

Tracinya kept her hand firmly down. Gaurnare was right. It was a suicide run.

She counted seven hands that tentatively raised, all replacements. To her dismay, Paplo was among them.

She shifted, ready to get up, but Bull put his hand on her shoulder. "Nothin' you can do."

"Stupid kid," she said watching the lieutenant round up his now rag-tag group of replacements.

"Mhm," said Bull.

---

When the inevitable sound of fighting started, Tracinya did her best to both listen as well as she could and ignore the burning desire to get up and help. She'd been on pins and needles as her replacement walked right into the enemy's line without her. She may not have liked Paplo in the beginning, but he was one of her guys now. She tried to always watch out for her guys.

The scream for a medic pierced the air and Tracinya lurched, knowing that Spina was now out in the fray. The sinking feeling in her gut made her certain that Paplo was the man who'd been wounded.

She prayed as hard as she could, over and over again, that the patrol would walk away alive.

Bull hugged her around the shoulders and kept her tucked tight into his side to keep her in the foxhole.

Sleep was impossible as she waited for the patrol to return.

An hour later the group limped back into camp. Tracinya scanned the faces and couldn't find Paplo. She bit her lip and tried to fight down the tears as the lead weight turned to a stone.

Bull's warm hand was heavy on her shoulder as he tried to ground her before she fell apart. She savagely fought down the welling feelings of sorrow and anger.

She watched the foolish lieutenant find his way to Bill's foxhole. The whole camp could hear the man as he said, "I'm sorry, Sergeant Guarnere. I should have listened to the more experienced soldier."

It was too little and far too late.

Luke came by an hour later.

Tracinya tried to pretend her eyes weren't rimmed red after hiding tears in Bull's warm side as Luke slid into the hole with them.

He didn't mince words. "He'll live," he said. "Got his hand blown off. They're taking care of him at the aid station back in the village."

"Thanks, Luke."

He gave her a quirk of his lips and a nod before getting up. "I'd better be off. Spina's waiting. Try to get some sleep, Trace. You too Sergeant."

And then he was gone.

The kid was alive. It was better than she'd feared. Maybe she'd try to visit him tomorrow if she had the time.

---

The next morning, Samuel woke up as Luke came by, ostensibly to check on Tracinya. The redhead had switched with Bull as her foxhole buddy after the skirmish last night.

The woman, probably sensing movement, despite being almost dead asleep just moments before lifted her head off his shoulder and smiled sleepily at him.

He smiled down at her and handed her something.

"You found some?" she asked, honest surprise in her voice.

"Perconte," he replied.

"That little bastard," she said, her tone teasing rather than derisive.

They shared another smile and left.

Samuel watched the exchange with confusion and after a long moment of deliberation, decided to ask. "What was that about?"

Tracinya looked up from where she had started digging through her bag. "Hm?" she hummed.

Samuel waved a hand to indicate the item she still had in her hand.

"Oh, Luke's been looking for scissors; must've lost his back at the FOB or something. Anyway, I leant him mine until he found something better." She showed Samuel the scissors in question.

He laughed at her. They were smaller than her palm. "Those're dinky!"

Tracinya smiled. "They're from my sewing kit," she defended. "They're only meant for cutting thread. I use my bayonet for everything else."

"Doesn't that make things cockeyed?" asked Samuel.

"Yes," she said, "But I'm not entering it in a sewing contest. I just need to get things to hold together until we're resupplied."

"Yeah, like that's going to happen any time soon."

"It might," she said, optimistic. He supposed one of them had to be. They let the silence hang for a minute.

"They're still pathetic," Samuel said, drawing attention back to the prior topic rather than the dire supplies condition.

"They are," she agreed. "Apparently Perco, who I know he asked before, had a pair in that bag of his."

Samuel didn't bother comparing her bag to Perco's; there was no contest. Tracinya had more stuff with her by far. He wondered if it was because she was female or if she'd just been better prepared than anyone, but regardless, she was fast becoming the person to ask for stuff. Samuel bet she even had some smokes hidden away somewhere. There's not much guys wouldn't do out here for a cigarette; even the cash in his bag was worthless in comparison.

Out of the blue, Tracinya started coughing long and loud. It worried Samuel a bit, but then, most of the guys had gotten a cough and recovered, so he didn't mention it. Instead, he tossed the neglected blanket over her and settled in.

It was going to be another cold day on Umbara. No with a frosting of snow to go along with the eternal darkness. Frozen ground. Ice and freezing winds.

They just had to keep holding on.

---

"Medic!" Skinny Sisk screamed from the foxhole next to Tracinya's.

They were on the line and under mortar fire again. She had hit the dirt as the tree between her hole and his had taken a direct hit, shattering with a sharp crack. Splinters rained down on them like javelins. Most of the wood that hit her bounced harmlessly off the back of her armour, sideways instead of piercing her.

Skinny hadn't been so lucky. She could see the pieces in his leg as she scrambled over the gap between them, her armoured hands stinging on the still soldering shards of wood.

Perconte, Skinny's foxhole buddy, took up the cry for a medic as Skinny tried not to grab his leg and push the shards deeper; his hands already slick with blood.

Spina came bounding through the trees like an angel from on high, sliding into Skinny and Perconte's hole.

"Perconte, get a jeep," Spina ordered as he cut Skinny's pants with Perconte's pilfered scissors.

"I'm on it, Doc," said the short Chilean, reaching his helmet radio. "Easy CP, Easy CP," he said, getting drowned out by Skinny's screams of agony. Doc began talking to Skinny, ease in his voice as he started pulling out the biggest pieces of tree from Skinny's leg with brutal efficiency.

Tracinya turned to watch the line, a curse on her lips as she saw the Umbaran infantry emerge from the trees. "Here they come!" she hollered, scrambling to get her weapon up.

"They're moving Goddamn it!" Perco screamed into the receiver. "We need it now!"

She shot off a few rounds, picking off two of the crouching men in white. Behind her, she could just see Spina as he bit off a corner of a sulfa packet, sprinkling the white powder sparingly over the wounded leg.

"Okay Sisk, ain't that bad, ain't that bad," said Spina as he held the limb still.

"Ain't that bad?" repeated Skinny, bewildered. "I got enough wood in my leg for a forest, and it 'ain't that bad?' Shit."

Spina shook out a pressure bandage and cinched it tight around Skinny's leg, tying it off with a final shout of agony from his patient. Tracinya spared them another glance as she loaded her second last magazine into her Carbine.

"No, Doc, save the morphine," Skinny protested. Tracinya looked to see Spina pulling out one of his last, precious, syrettes. "I can make it, save it, okay?"

Spina nodded and tucked it away again. "Come on," he said. "Let's get him outta here. Fast."

The magazine stuttered and whined on Tracinya's Carbine. She was out. She'd just fired her very last rounds of ammo.

"Shit!" she hissed, resisting the urge to throw the weapon in her frustration. She was useless out here without ammo, and if she was out, no one else had much left either. She needed to get more. The only place she could think that might have any to spare was the Village, where Spina was taking Skinny.

It was worth a try.

"I'm coming with you, Doc!" she called, grabbing her nearly empty pack from her own foxhole. She kept her gun with her, too well trained to just leave it behind. Bullets wouldn't be any good without something to shoot them with, after all.

"Fine, hurry!" he barked, yanking Skinny out of the hole by his webbing. Perco scrambled to help. He and Spina hoisted Skinny into the air, careful to keep him in a sitting position to lessen the pain as they ran for the rear, Tracinya dogging their heels.

"Where is the Goddamn jeep!" Spina demanded after they'd gone a hundred yards and there was still no sign of it.

The ground bucked. Perco slipped, his leg shooting out from under him. The sudden weight yanked Spina down, and Skinny fell, screaming in agony, on top of them. Tracinya grabbed his helmet before it bounced away and Skinny's gun from where it had fallen off Perco's shoulder before trying to help untangle the boys.

"Argh! Jesus Christ," Skinny screamed through gritted teeth. Tracinya tried to help him sit up so Spina and Perco could wriggle free.

Perconte looked down at where Skinny had landed on him. "Aw, Skinny, you got blood all over my trousers."

"I'm real sorry!" said Skinny.

Tracinya gasped out a laugh as she struggled to pull Skinny up so Spina and Perco could grab him again.

A jeep appeared out of the fog, a stretcher laid out on the nose.

"Damn it, Skinny," muttered Perco. Tracinya wasn't sure if he was still commenting on the blood or if he was complaining about his friend being injured. Between Spina and himself, the boys got Sisk laid out on the already bloodstained stretcher.

"Tell Sparrow I went in for plasma!" Spina called to Perco as he slid into the passenger seat.

"I'm going too!" called Tracinya. "We need ammo!" She threw Skinny's stuff in the back seat.

"All right, hurry." Spina said as he hauled her the rest of the way into the jeep.

Tracinya pulled her rucksack, which she hadn't even realized she'd grabbed, onto her lap. When Tracinya was situated, she nodded and Spina took his own seat.

"Let's move!" he shouted to the driver. The man stepped on the gas.

The nearby village was three miles from the front line. What would have taken them an hour's walk with the thick fog mucking up navigation, the jeep crossed in five minutes.

"All the tanks, artillery, all pulled back to here!" The driver told them as they pulled through the archway in the town wall. Half of the arch's bricks had been blown to hell. "We got no backup beyond here. This is it! And Umbarans captured the 326," a jeep pulling out drowned the man's words, but she caught up when he said, "They took everybody! Doctors, medics, the whole shebang!"

Buildings were in snow-covered pieces on either side of the road. The village hall – the tallest building left - hadn't been spared damage, but it was still standing; a red cross on a white sheet hung over the chapel entrance.

"We got nothin'," continued the jeep driver. "We're giving the boys hooch for the pain!"

Tracinya traded a look with Spina.

They pulled to a stop in front of the Village hall-aid station. Tracinya helped Spina move Skinny from the jeep nose to the fresh stretcher two soldiers were carrying, taking his legs while Spina bore the bulk of his weight by taking his torso.

"He took a mortar hit. Watch the leg," Spina addressed to the two men. "Get him in," he ordered once they settled Skinny. He followed them into the church.

Tracinya let him go. Her attention was caught by the mound of dead soldiers, carelessly piled high outside the hall, with no way to bury them in the frozen ground, and no time to do so if they could manage it with the enemy constantly nipping at them from all sides.

She started grabbing socks from frozen limbs, checking webbing, stealing aid kits, K rations, helmets, and canteens. Any spare supplies she could get her hands on she took. There was so much the men on the line needed, she couldn't get enough stuff fast enough. She snatched up discarded bags and began filling them as well when her rucksack overflowed.

Some of the dead had scarves; she took those too. She made sure to get spare coats, particularly from the taller corpses; guys could double up.

It was hard, grisly work, trying to manipulate the already stiffly frozen dead into giving up their treasures, but she was desperate. The cold winter-like chill was like an icebox, it had frozen the bodies until they might as well be ice cubes. At least there was no smell, no decomposition of the bodies, but the lack of it made the work even more horrifying. She was certain she was covered in their blood, even if the poor bastards had none left.

Once she found a bag stuffed with spare rounds, she remembered the initial reason for her search and began looking specifically for ammo and musette bags. She started checking for weapons that might have been discarded along with the bodies and emptied the chambers of ammo.

She made it through roughly half of the poor schmucks on the right side of the road before Spina came running out of the church, clutching a crate like it was full of gold, and flagged down the jeep driver who'd brought them in.

"Can you get us back to the line?" he asked around the box he was holding.

"Sure," the driver said. He took the box from Spina's hands, presumably filled with medical supplies he'd gleaned from the hospital, and took it to the jeep.

Tracinya ignored this byplay and kept looting. A hand on her shoulder, Spina's, finally yanked her focus from the grisly task.

"Come on, Tracinya," he said, pulling her away. She hurried to finish rooting through the man's pockets, wanting to get every last thing she could. There was no telling when they'd get another chance like this, no telling if someone else would have the same desperation to try searching the dead before she had a chance to return.

The thought made her feel sick, but she made herself keep going. One more pocket and then she'd be done and leave this man, who'd already given everything he had out here on this foreign patch of dirt, to rest.

She'd just finished when something caught Spina's eye. He approached a corpse, quickly stripping the body of his boots and checking them for size.

"Nines," he told her when he caught her looking, "for Toye."

She nodded, glad he'd thought of it, she'd completely forgotten herself. Wasting no more time, Tracinya threw the straps of the various bags she'd filled over her shoulders and waddled towards the jeep under the weight.

"Gabriel!" called a woman's voice over the jeep's engine. It was coming from the church.

Tracinya turned with her friend to see a pretty nurse in a bright blue head scarf, smiling at Gabe as she trudged through the snow in practical boots under her skirt and leggings. The blue the woman was wearing over her brown braids transfixed her. It felt like a lifetime since she'd seen cloth any colour but camouflage. It was a very nice colour.

Shaking herself, Tracinya deliberately tuned out their conversation and got to work hauling her bags into the back of the truck before hopping up herself. Whatever it was the two of them were talking about, didn't involve her after all. From the look on her friends face, it would probably be wise to give them some privacy, but she kept an eye on him all the same.

The woman tossed something at Spina. He caught it against his chest, looking down at it in surprise.

"Chocolat," she informed him. He held up the bar and stared at it, confused. "Pour vous," she said with a smile as she turned back into the church.

Spina nodded – though the woman clearly couldn't see it – and hopped into the passenger seat. The jeep driver passed him the box of medical supplies once he'd settled into the passenger seat so he could hug the box and keep it safe in his lap. He put the boots on top of the box and slipped the chocolate into his coat.

Tracinya shot him a knowing look. She could see the smile that was lingering on his face, tucked into the corners of his sometimes too solemn mouth. She huffed a laugh when he brought the chocolate bar up to his nose and inhaled.

"Shut up," he said as he mock glared at her out of the corner of his eye. He passed the bar to her so she could do the same.

She smiled serenely. "I didn't say anything."

The jeep hit a hole in the frozen road and the overflowing bags nearly yanked her off the jeep. There were a lot of them, and they weighed nearly as much as she did, but each one was precious, so she held on for dear life. If any of those bags fell off, it was going to be because she fell off with them.

Spina latched onto her jacket and yanked her back into the bumping jeep. "You get any aid kits?" he asked.

"Yeah, but I didn't have time to sort them out."

"Later then," he agreed as they endured the bumps in the road.

---

When they reached the line, Father Maloney was giving a service to the men. Spina and Tracinya started unloading the supplies from the jeep while the impatient driver idled.

Tracinya spotted Toye in the group and headed for him, box in hand and Toye's new boots around her neck.

Tracinya just tossed her bounty on the ground for someone else to sort out. She wanted to know what was going on.

"That's it, guys," said Skip Muck to the assembled men as the Father dismissed them from Mass. "Nothing more to worry about, we gonna die now, we gonna die in a state of grace."

Tracinya still felt dirty after digging through corpses like they were fruit carts, so she didn't find the comment funny even as several other men laughed at Muck's gallows humour.

She found Captain Mateo loitering at the back of the crowd and made sure he saw the bags she'd left behind. He'd see the supplies got distributed where it was needed most.

That taken care of, Tracinya grabbed her gun and a musette bag she'd crammed full of ammo and ran to join the patrol who were already leaving her behind. She heard Mateo getting some guys to carry the stuff back to the CP to be inventoried and distributed and smiled.

Good ol' Captain Mateo.

Tracinya caught up with Martin from First Platoon as the sergeant gathered up his squad. "Hey, Johnny," she greeted him. "You need any help?"

"Sure," he agreed. "Basic recon patrol. Umbaran hunting," he informed her with a smile.

"Sounds fun," she said, and fell in line with the men already forming up tactical columns as Martin barked the order to move out. She tucked away a smile as she overheard Martin comment on Lucas's directional skills but didn't comment.

Bull clapped her on the shoulder. "You joinin' us?"

"Yep," she said and smiled at him, before slipping seamlessly into formation just behind him.

Martin caught Spina as he tried to follow them. "Doc, Doc," he said, putting his hands to Gabe's chest to stop him, "It's a combat patrol, why don't you, ah, stay back and keep your ass outta trouble, huh?" said Martin.

Tracinya didn't hear Spina's reply if he made one.

"Come on, Hoobler," said Martin, re-joining them. "Pick it up."

They walked like shadows in the densely falling snow, moving cautiously through the trees that were standing a silent watch. The snow dampened all sound, making its lack oppressive and disturbing. The fog limited their ability to see each other, let alone where they were going.

Martin and Julian – Babe's replacement friend – were on point. They'd made it to a defensible position behind some logs that had been stacked perhaps in preparation of winter: abandoned pieces of life before the war.

Tracinya heard a Umbaran scream.

A machine gun opened up on Martin and Julian's position through the fog. She hit the dirt, crawling for cover, praying that no one had been hit.

"BULL! CHRISTENSON!" shouted Martin over the popping MG. "UP ON LINE!"

Tracinya found her feet as she and the other men all broke cover to run for the sergeant's position and form a line of defence, knowing that he needed covering fire or someone, likely Martin, was going to die.

They raced to the log pile, filling out the line.

"Medic!" screamed Martin.

Tracinya looked around for Spina, before remembering with a silent curse that he'd been left behind. She then looked for who'd been hit and saw Julian, blood all over his face as he reached out for Babe – who'd surged forward to land next to Martin.

"Suppressing FIRE!" Martin bellowed.

Tracinya flipped around and took the best shots she could manage through the fog and the distance and the heavy fire they were under. She picked her shots carefully – she didn't have ammo to waste after all – but she could do little against the fortified Umbarans. They must have hit the Umbaran line.

Fuck.

She heard Diego calling on the radio that they had a man down. Babe was trying to get to the kid, but a line of machine gun fire blocked him every time. Julian had blood gushing from his neck; he spit even more out of his mouth.

"STOP MOVING!" Babe screamed at the kid. "They'll keep firing!"

Julian was beyond hearing them. He wanted to die with his friends, so he kept reaching for them, knowing they'd get him.

But they couldn't.

"FALL BACK!" yelled Christenson. "We've gotta fall back!"

Martin looked at him, and then looked at Babe's face and made the hard call. "Fall back!" he said. Bull and Tracinya echoed him, making sure the order was heard by everyone. "Move, move!"

"Don't move!" cried Babe, arm still outstretched to the choking man. "We're coming back! Stay with us! Look at me!" He was desperately trying to motivate Julian to hold on, to stay alive long enough for them to get back to him.

They were leaving him behind.

"Go! GO!" screamed Martin. The patrol broke cover and raced back towards safety.

Tracinya tried to remember the way. It was confusing. The dense fog made the trees all look the same.

"Come on, let's move!" yelled Hoobler. "Where the hell are we?"

"Straight ahead, straight ahead!" Bull answered at a shout.

Tracinya could see Spina already up and waiting for them. A shot of stray fire managed to hit a replacement in the back. He went down – a marionette with his strings cut. Tracinya couldn't see who it was; she was busy. She'd taken a tree for cover and was trying to spot where the enemy was firing from. Over the chaos, she heard Luz calling up a jeep.

"Eyes sharp!" yelled Bull.

Mateo joined them. "Martin?" he snapped, trying to get the man's attention. "Martin!"

"Sir?" said Martin, moving to cover closer to Nix so they could talk.

"What's going on?" he asked, eyes flicking around the men, counting.

"They got Julian!" said Martin.

"He's still alive!" screamed Babe in denial.

"We don't know that," Martin answered.

"We gotta go get 'im, Sergeant!" pushed Babe.

"Did you hit an OP or their line?" asked Mateo, weighing the options. If it was just an outpost, a rescue might be possible.

"Their line, sir," Tracinya answered, glancing at Babe as Martin agreed. She watched his face fall as the realization sank in. Julian was gone. They didn't have the men or the ammo to waste on a suicide mission to retrieve just one man.

"We gotta go back and get Julianni!" Babe protested futilely once more.

Tracinya bit her lip at the despair on his face. From what she'd seen of the wound, Julian was a goner either way.

Unable to bear the pain on his face any more, she started taking a head count, suddenly afraid that they'd missed someone else in the chaos of retreating.

"No. Fall back!" ordered Mateo.

"We lost Lucas!" cried Tracinya, coming up short with her count much to her horror. I didn't even notice he was missing! What if he got shot too and we – I – didn't even notice?

"No, he's back at the CP," corrected Mateo.

White-hot rage washed over her like a wave. Lucas had retreated without giving a Goddamn order for them to follow him. He'd abandoned them to die out there. Fucking son-of-a-bitch.

She turned sharp eyes back the way they'd come, trying to spot any Umbarans stupid enough to follow them. She fired anyway when she didn't see anyone coming, steadying hands shaking with rage as the long familiarity of shooting took its hold.

"Come on, Martin! Fall back!" rallied Mateo, urging the man to give the order. "Get 'em outta here!"

She wasn't going to go anywhere until Martin told her to. Tracinya was going to keep firing on the enemy until she heard Martin issue the order to retreat.

Martin was leading now that Lucas had abandoned them to the wolves, and protocol demanded the patrol follow Martin's orders, not Mateo's. Though Mateo technically outranked Martin, he was only an intelligence officer. If Martin gave the order to go back to the line and try to get Julian, she'd follow him in a heartbeat, Mateo be damned.

She watched the man from the corner of her eye, waiting for a decision.

"Let's go! Fall back!" called Martin, finally, after exchanging several more bullets with the mist between the trees.

Tracinya emptied her clip and ran.

---

As they got back into camp, Tracinya separated herself from the group.

She was fighting down tears, biting chapped lips to keep her anger away as she stormed through the camp.

She needed to be alone. She needed to be alone now.

There was no other option. She couldn't show weakness to her men – not when they were all just as emotionally exhausted as she was, not if she wanted to keep their respect. And there was no holding it back – she was too livid to box it up anymore. Her box was cracking and it was all spilling over.

A hitched sob escaped and she slapped a hand to her mouth to push it back inside. Her legs began sprinting as the desperation for solitude became something as imperative as breathing.

She could feel a pressure building up inside her. Bubbling against her control. Fucking Lucas. Fucking Dike. Fucking cold. Fucking cowards!

Each new thought built up inside her, adding pressure. She was stretched so thin trying to contain it. She was starving and exhausted and Julian wasn't even eighteen and Lucas had left them, left him, to die out there alone. Like they meant nothing. Like they were just meat to stuff the cannons with.

She didn't know where her feet carried her. She didn't know if anyone was around and she didn't care anymore. They could be fucking Umbarans and she wouldn't care at all. She needed to move, needed to hit something, let out this rage before it drove her mad.

Tears streamed down her face, sobs hacking their way through her and she viciously suppressed the sound ruthlessly until just ragged gasps escaped. Suddenly she was falling, a boot caught under something unforgiving. She landed face down in the snow and couldn't even find the strength to stand. Everything that was choking her flooded to the surface. She bit her tongue, allowed herself the weakness of tears but refused to make a single sound. Never again would she endanger her friends by making unnecessary noise. She pushed herself up to her feet, angrily shoving the ground away.

There was a hefty, bare branch in her clenched fists. She had no idea how it got there, but it felt right in her hand. Heavy. Dangerous. Her blood roared in her ears. Her teeth gnashed together so hard they might break. Everything was red. She picked her target and began to wail on it.

Bark flew everywhere as branch and unfortunate tree collided with a 'crack!' It bit at her face, bounced off her helmet and jacket as she just kept hitting. Eventually the branch broke in her hand, which just made her even angrier. She threw it force knows where and began using her fists. She wailed on the tree in front of her, seeing nothing, seeing a man and hitting it again and again, feeling the pressure inside her burst free in wracking sobs and she had to gasp for air to fill the hollow space it left, trying desperately to keep it from collapse.

The skin on her hands burst, blood ran freely, and Tracinya cared not at all. She didn't know where her gloves were, or even if she'd destroyed them in her rage, and still she cared not at all. The red of the blood, the warmth of it, was like seeing Julian gasping on it all over.

A hand gripped her shoulder, tugged on her. The force spun her away from the tree she was trying to tear down and towards a defenceless torso. Desperate to resume her violence – without it she would surely fall to pieces – she shoved him hard and spun back around, clawing and swinging her fists back at the bark. She didn't want to hurt anybody but the tree, these stupid fucking trees that were supposed to protect them but instead rained down death from above as though bullets weren't enough to tear them apart.

She tried to scream her frustration, to make this interloper understand that he needed to let her be, let her vent her rage before it consumed her completely, but air escaped her lungs faster than she could catch it.

Arms circled her, pinning her arms to her sides. She kicked out as he lifted and dragged her away from the tree, flailing to force him to drop her. The cavern of rage was collapsing and she was so scared to let it go, for fear it would take her along with it, leaving her with nothing. Julian would still be dead; they would still be leaderless in this last level of Hell; she would still be stranded; still be watching her friends die every fucking day in a war fed by ambition and no further purpose. Separatists didn't attack Mandalor; the fucking Death Watch did. Fuck Dooku and the stupid fucking Separatists. Let Galaxy self-destruct for all she cared. She was so tired of dying bit by bit as her friends were buried around her, so afraid she'd be next, that she'd be the only one left.

The bubble of anger did collapse and so did she. The arms holding her up fell with her and held her close as she sank to her knees and cried, cried for Julian, and all the other kids who would never know the warmth of another summer's day.

---

2623 August 7th Earth Standard Calendar, LT. Luke Sparrow, Umbara.

Luke was in a hole with Moore when Tracinya stormed by more rigid than he'd ever seen her. She didn't even look around as she went by, tension in every line of her body. He shared a glance with More before hopping out of the hole to follow her. Something was wrong. He'd never seen her like this and that worried him. If he had to guess he'd say she was angry, but then he'd never seen Tracinya get truly angry, and never like this.

He caught Spina, who was already starting to follow her. The jeep carrying the wounded man from the patrol off to field hopsital to be seen too, but the Doc's hands were still covered in blood.

"What the hell happened on that patrol?" Luke growled at the Doc as he joined him. The growl was more for quiet's sake than anger's, but the worry behind it was certainly real enough.

"I don't know," Doc answered, worried and already to start after Tracinya again.

Luke didn't know why, but he was pretty sure it was a bad idea for anyone, let alone Spina to go after her right now. "Why don't you hang back, Doc?" said Luke, intercepting the man.

Spina opened his mouth to argue, rebellious, when Captain Mateo caught his attention.

"There you are, Doc," said the Captain, his uncanny timing once again unfailing. "I need you to inventory the medical supplies we have on hand. Can you get me the list for Easy Company? We need to spread what little we've got around, and you and Vizsla came back with quite –"

Luke took the Captain's distraction as an opportunity to go after Tracinya alone.

As he was about to go, Spina turned deliberately away from Mateo, and locked eyes with Luke. After a moment of intense study, Spina nodded, conveying the severity of his mission to Luke through the gravity in his eyes.

He was aware that Spina cared a great deal for Tracinya. Then again, he did too. They all did. As he took off after Tracinya he hoped, desperately that she was just going for a walk and not shell shocked. It would be a blow to the Company – hell, to Luke himself – he wasn't sure he could withstand.

Luke followed Tracinya's footsteps in the snow, leading him through the fog until he caught up with her. She didn't seem to hear him when he called out softly, "Hey, Trace, you all right?"

She didn't answer. She didn't even turn around.

He watched her, curious as she dragged her fingers through the snow as if in a trance until she came up with a branch the length of a baseball bat, God knows how she found it underneath all that snow. He held his breath, wondering what on earth she was doing.

Tracinya, in a unenthusiastically motion pulled the branch back like a batter about to swing. It hung in limbo there for a beat too long to be natural before she whipped it forward, putting strength into the swing she shouldn't have been capable of without the momentum of the backswing behind it, shattering the tree's bark and probably denting the thing. She didn't stop, swinging the club again and again, apparently trying to hack the tree down without a blade, the sharp sound that filled the forest not unlike gunshots.

"What the fuck! C'mon Trace," he called, trying to gain her attention. "Snap out of it!"

She didn't acknowledge him. She didn't even act like she'd heard him.

The mist acted as a veil, making the scene all the more surreal. He watched with growing horror as, despite her obvious rage, the violence she was unleashing, she made not a single sound. It was eerie quiet she was, even as her shoulder shook and her body was obviously wracked with sobs she wasn't making a single fucking sound. It was probably the thing that scared Luke the most about this whole terrifying ordeal.

Luke dropped his rifle and scrambled over to get her to stop before the whole Umbaran army lit up this neck of the forest because of the racket. She had to stop or they'd be in big trouble, but a part of him couldn't believe this was even happening.

And yet, despite the danger, once he'd crossed the distance separating them, he couldn't make himself stop her. This was something she needed.

If the Umbarans hadn't opened up yet, they probably weren't going to.

Besides, she wasn't hurting anybody. He could let her have this expression of rage, even bear witness so it wouldn't be forgotten and swept away as nothing. It was obviously not nothing.

Something on that patrol had broken her.

Tracinya, who never got angry, never quit, never wavered, never failed to make them smile just when they needed to, never not there when they needed her, was fucking losing it. And Luke had never been so scared stiff in his whole life. What the hell were they gonna do if this ate her alive like it had so many other soldiers? If Tracinya really had cracked – and with the way she was acting it was likely – then he'd be seeing a lot more of it in the other men. It was like dominos, it only took one to send a lot of others to the floor, and Tracinya was a centre piece.

The branch broke. She didn't even whimper as it splintered in her hand. She threw it away and just started beating on the damn tree with her bare fists.

Recognizing that she'd gone long past being rationally angry and into dangerous territory, his feet jolted to life, and he ran forward. When he reached the still fighting girl, he grabbed Tracinya's shoulder and tried to pull her away. With a tree branch was one thing, but bare knuckles on bark was only going to hurt her, not ease the pain she was feeling. Her armoured gauntlets didn't cover her fingers. Her knuckles were already oozing blood, and they couldn't afford anyone to get hurt out here with so little supplies to go around. Luke wasn't stupid, if they were out of food, they were out of bandages, especially with the way Doc was constantly badgering everyone for aid kits and morphine.

She resisted, throwing him off. It shouldn't have been possible; she was such a little thing.

"Cut it out, Trace!" he said, trying to reason with her as he tried again to pull her away. "You're gonna hurt yourself!" he said as he spun her around, but she shoved him away.

He caught the look at her face as she spun back to the tree. It was full of rage and sorrow and hurt, and there were tears streaming from her eyes even as her lips curled into a snarl, but still she made no sound. Not even one of pain despite the blood dripping from her hands. But he was also relieved in a way, as the suspicion that she might just be going crazy was swept irrevocably aside. The intensity in her eyes simply wasn't present in those who were shell shocked. She wasn't dead inside, merely grieving and angry because of it, and Luke understood that well enough.

Having successfully dislodged him, Tracinya turned towards the tree again, punching and kicking and leaving bits of herself in the bark as she held onto the only thing that made sense to her at this point, unwilling to relinquish the rage that kept the grief at bay.

"Jesus Christ! Enough!" He wrapped his arms around her as hard as he could and hauled her backwards. She struggled for a moment, kicking and flailing about, almost breaking his gasp. "Tracinya, calm the fuck down," he said, holding tight.

She gave one last struggle, before sagging in his grip. He wasn't prepared for the sudden weight and they sank to the ground, Tracinya gasping for breath, and Luke trying to hold her together.

He pulled his friend close, cradling her head in his arms and smoothed his gloved hand over her hair as she began to sob in earnest into his jacket, finally finding a voice, thank God.

"He was seventeen, Luke," she croaked after long moments of inconsolable sobbing, her lungs rattling with the strain, "and we just left him there. Fucking Lieutenant Lucas just left us there because fucking Dike can't give him any fucking orders!"

She could barely breathe and she was trying to talk, to explain. He appreciated the gesture even though it was unnecessary. He wasn't going to judge her for this lapse, just as she hadn't judged him for his own lapses back on Mandalor after he'd held together while he relived his experiences that still haunted him at night.

He shushed her gently, but she shook her head and continued. "We're out here in the freezing cold and our CO doesn't give a damn about any of us. Not even the kids."

"I know, Trace. I know," he placated. "We've just gotta hang in there."

He didn't know what else to say, so he did for her what she had done for him all those months ago in Normandy, and let her cry quietly into his jacket. Her tears froze before they reached him anyways.

---

25031 Galactic Standard Calendar, Tracinya Vizsla, Umbara

Tracinya felt the tears fade into hacking coughs. She was shaking with cold and exhaustion and Luke was so solid in that moment she didn't want to lean away from him to spit away the gunk that came up from her lungs, but saw no other option. He let her go, patting her back gently as she heaved up mucus.

She leaned away from him to spit it on the ground in the most unladylike fashion. If only Mother were here to offer me a handkerchief, she thought, the tiniest grin quirking her mouth at the image of her mother out here, slogging through the war with them before being replaced with a grimace of pain as she started coughing once more.

"I'm all right," she said as the last of the coughs started dying down.

"Yeah," he agreed easily, still watching her with hawk-like eyes. "We should head back once your lungs decide to stay put. Get some chow. Maybe see about getting you off the line for a bit."

Tracinya looked up, eyes snapping with ice despite the tears streaming down her face. She growled at him and struggled to her feet, "I don't need," she gasped, and began coughing, hacking away now that her adrenaline was down.

She got herself under control and managed to stand, brushing Luke away. "I don't need off the line," she insisted. Ambushed by a hiccup turned into a bubbling laugh she said, "Anyway, off the line to go where?" She glanced at him, knowing without a doubt that her eyes were bloodshot and red. "We're surrounded. There is no line. Just more fucking snow," she said bitterly. She wiped her mouth with a hand. It left a smear of blood behind. She'd busted her knuckles.

Luke gently took her hand and picked up some snow. Using the ice crystals and his scarf, he dabbed the blood away. Tracinya didn't bother telling him to knock it off. Her outburst hadn't changed anything, hadn't even made her feel better. Instead, it just left her tired and cranky.

"All right," agreed Luke, willing to move past getting her off the line for now. "Then explain: what the hell was that?"

Tracinya bit back two different angry retorts before she settled on an appropriate response. "Lieutenant Lucas left us, retreated without giving the Goddamn order, and now Julian's dead."

"Who's Julian?" asked Luke, eyes still on Tracinya hands. It was a relief to have it confirmed that she was just furious, not in shell shock.

"The replacement from Babe's hole," she answered, voice small, remembering. "Well, he was before Lucas got infected with Dike's ineptitude, now he's dead," she said softly, too mentally exhausted for any more anger. Her anger had been an easy mask for her heartsickness, she knew herself well enough to understand that. Anger was far easier to deal with than an aching pain that would never truly heal. Because Julian was too young to die in war, they all were, and the hopelessness of their situation, the inevitability that many more people were going to be lost to this foreign soil threatened to throw her back into a rage.

"Trace, you gotta calm down," cautioned Luke, looking wary.

She studied him. He clearly didn't want her flying off the handle again. She supposed he was allowed to feel that way, he'd just finished patching up her busted knuckles after all.

"I'm working on it," she snapped, still trying – unsuccessfully – not to be angry. She was tired and his fussing wasn't helping. She tried to regulate her breathing, eventually letting out a sigh. "I'm all right, Luke."

"You're not all right," persisted Luke, still worried.

"Yeah, but I'm angry, not insane, so leave it alone, alright?" she snapped, tired of his coddling.

He let it go without further comment. "How do your hands feel?" he asked instead, changing the subject.

Tracinya looked down at the cleaned abrasions. He'd done a good job. The cold snow hand numbed the area, and the melt had washed out the worst of the bark. "Fine," she answered.

"Good, then we should probably get back before they eat all the chow," said Liebgott, "and Roe's probably gonna wanna look at your hands."

"You're not to get Gabriel worried about my own stupidity," she told him firmly.

"Too late," he informed her. When she gave him a sharp look, he smiled a 'who me?' smile and clapped her on the back, ruffling her hair with friendly affection.

Tracinya pushed his shoulder in retaliation, so he rocked back on his heels a bit, not enough to fall over or even lose his balance, but it made him give her a more genuine smile. She bent down to scoop up her helmet and rifle, replacing her headgear and frowning as Luke picked up his own weapon from where he'd dropped it a few paces away. While her negligence could be attributed to her blind rage, Luke certainly knew better than to drop his rifle to the ground for any reason. She just didn't have the heart to scold him about it now.

He swung his arm over her shoulder and pulled her close for warmth. It made her feel infinitely better and worse at the same time. Tracinya was bitterly ashamed that she'd worried him, and eternally grateful that he was here.

"Besides," she huffed ruefully, thinking of the others back at camp who probably had more right to sorrow than she did. "Heffron could probably use some company." She avoided his gaze but felt him nod and let him lead her back to camp.

No longer blind with rage and grief, Tracinya was confronted by the glaring issues that had pushed her so far. A lot of it was down to exhaustion. She hadn't been able to sleep properly since she'd been moved up to cover the edge of the line. There was very little food to go around anymore. The scrounging she'd done today might ease that for a little while, but it couldn't hold out forever. The biting, relentless cold constantly gnawed away at her.

All that, and then there was what happened today.

How could Lucas abandon them like that? Like some useless replacement officer who didn't know a patrol from a walk in the park. He'd been around long enough to know better. Weren't they abandoned often enough by Dike? Lucas should know; he spent half his fucking day looking for that goldbrick! But rather than lead a patrol, he'd done the stupidest thing he possibly could: fucked off back to the CP, leaving Martin alone in the field so he could make a report on action that was still fucking happening.

It was a product of Dike's piss poor leadership style. Because Dike didn't know what to do, couldn't manage to give a definitive order for any of the combat patrols he'd ordered, Lucas felt the need to constantly check in to make sure he was doing what was necessary. If Santiago was in charge, he'd have been with them in case something went wrong.

It made her feel sick to her stomach. She forced the feeling down and away. It would do absolutely no good to vomit right now, and she didn't have any food in her to spit up anyway.

She took a deep breath, searching for calm. As she let it out, she tried to blow away her fury as well. She needed to move past this rage if she was going to function properly as a sergeant. She could do nothing less for her men. They had to have at least one leader who cared about them and knew what she was doing.

It was the only thing she could do: look after her men.

So she let her anger go, left it behind to be buried in the snow with all the rest of the bloody anger on Umbara.

But she vowed to never forgive Lucas for this, or forget it, and to shield her men from incompetent leaders like him to the best of her ability for as long as she was able.

It meant that when she got back to camp, she had to have a level head. She'd have to bury her rage and hatred and press on as if nothing had happened. It was the only way to survive out here.

The walk back to camp passed in silence, neither Tracinya nor Luke mentioning what had just happened or thinking about what might happen tomorrow.

They were still here, and for now, that would have to be enough.

---

The walk back to camp was a quiet one. Neither Tracinya nor Luke felt the need to discuss what had happened out there in the woods.

There was no need.

It didn't take long to get back to Easy's position. From there, it was easy to see where the guys from the patrol had gathered together just away from the general bustle of the rest of the company, seeking comfort in their shared despair.

Tracinya drifted away from Luke as soon as they re-joined the group. Partly because she felt ashamed she'd broken down in front of him and needed to re-establish a boundary of respect. But mostly she just felt hollow and exhausted all over again, her grief returning afresh with the mourning silence that dominated the usually vibrant group. On any other occasion, the boys would have been laughing, giggling, and having a good time – as they had managed all along, despite the horrible conditions they faced – but today, those sounds of gayety were smothered by the memory of the boy they'd been forced to leave behind.

Tracinya wondered how many of them were also wondering if it would happen to them next.

Without conscious thought, Tracinya found herself next to Bull. She sat down next to the bulky man with a weary sigh and scrubbed a hand over her face, unsuccessfully trying to erase the evidence of her tears.

Bull, saint that he was, said nothing as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into the hug, feeling fragile now that she was surrounded by her comrades grief-stricken faces.

She looked at the ground to avoid the worried looks directed at her. She felt ashamed that she'd gone off alone to rant and cry when the others had come together. Granted, she wasn't First Platoon. She shouldn't have been on the patrol at all but their numbers had dwindled so much that she'd ended up helping out wherever she could.

She didn't – hadn't – even known the kid that well. But the unbearable heartbreak on Babe's face, who'd been close to Julian – buddies from basic and then sharing a foxhole on the line – was excruciating.

Tracinya felt the heat of an assessing stare and looked up to find Spina's piercing gaze. She mustered a smile for him, but she was too ashamed to properly meet his eyes.

She considered moving to sit next to the medic, but after studying his face, she decided against it. From the way he hunched in on himself, shoulders up around his ears, face drawn into a worried frown, he wanted some space. He was deliberately sitting just beyond the group, not actually a part of it; his own plea for privacy.

She bit her lip and decided to place her worry for him aside for the moment. She was in no state to help him anyway with her own emotions so volatile. It broke her heart that Spina was isolating himself, but she understood – especially after what she'd just gone through with Luke.

Spina did his best to take care of them when they were screaming in agony, and if doing that required a little bit of distance, well she certainly couldn't begrudge him that.

She'd realized in this isolated week in hell that Spina withdrew himself on principle and emphasized this distance whenever they lost someone. Tracinya wondered if he thought they would blame him somehow for losing the man. If he thought Julian's death was somehow his fault, despite the fact that he hadn't even been there.

Perhaps that's the problem, Tracinya thought. Spina blames himself for not being there to help despite Martin ordering him to stay behind.

Tracinya swallowed fresh tears. Maybe if Spina had been there, Julian would've made it.

She hated herself for the thought. It wasn't Gabe's fault.

Hell, it wasn't really Peacock's fault either.

It was the terrible price of war that good men had to die. All she or any of the boys could do was hold on and pray they made it through.

It wasn't going to be enough for some people, but that was all in God's hands.

---

2623 8th August Earth Standard Calendar, PVT 'Bull', Umbara

Bull politely didn't notice the way Tracinya's hands trembled as she wiped away the smallest of overflowing tears. She sniffed, causing a cough that she hid in her hands. He patted her on the back, letting her lean away from him for some space.

He was worried about her. She hadn't looked too good when she'd gone storming off; the blank look on her face – almost vacant in the way of the mentally fatigued, the shell-shocked guys who'd be pulled off the line to disappear forever – nearly as terrifying as the cracking of wood on wood that had come from that direction only a few minutes later.

LT. Sparrow had already gone after her though, and Bull had let them be.

LT could be trusted to look after Tracinya.

He tried not to notice the cuts on her knuckles, either. Doc Spina would likely take care of that once he noticed, and it was never long with Spina. Bull was half convinced the medic had informants whispering to him about ailments among their comrades. Spina kept such watch of Sarge as well, that Bull was certain that the Doc wouldn't fail to notice the state of the woman's hands.

Bull gnawed on his cigar and rubbed on his forehead, using the motion to subtly swipe his own tears away if anyone looked too close.

He couldn't start thinking about what-if and why-for's. Dwelling on things he couldn't change wouldn't make a damned bit of difference.

He knew the image of a boy, barely old enough to shave, bleeding from a gushing wound in his neck, futilely grasping to keep the blood inside his body as he became weaker and weaker as they abandoned him to the unforgiving winter cold, would stay with him for the rest of his life.

Already, every time he blinked he saw Julian gurgling in pain and panic as the kid reached out for them – for him – and leaving him behind.

He wondered if he couldn't have done something, got to the kid some way if he'd been a better soldier. Logically, he knew it had been impossible – Julian was dead the moment the Umbarans hit him out in the open, never mind how serious the wound was – but the traitorous thoughts lingered.

Santiago joined them from the CP, approaching the group of downtrodden men like a spectre, ghosting up just when they needed a friendly face, a show from someone who was their leader, who cared about them.

It confirmed again what Bull already knew: Santiago was a great man.

Martin met their captain and reported the loss of Julian. "We couldn't get to him, Captain. We tried, Babe tried," he said nodding to the broken redhead with bright sympathetic eyes, "but we couldn't get to him."

Bull looked away ashamed. His eyes found the fat, floating snowflakes to try and keep himself distracted for a little while.

The quiet wasn't going to last for long before the Umbarans decided to come knocking once more.

---

25031 Galactic Standard Calendar, Tracinya Vizla, Umbara

Tracinya watched Spina as he spared Babe a long, assessing look. She had to admit that Babe didn't look too good. He'd been coughing, like a lot of them were now, but even from here she could tell that he'd stopped trying to ward off the cold, leaving his head and ears foolishly exposed to the elements even as he hugged his knees close for warmth – or perhaps it was for comfort.

"Hey, Bull, Trace," said Santiago, suddenly above her. Tracinya met his tired face, lined with more strain than she could ever remember seeing from him. His bright blue eyes were anguished like the rest of them. "I'm gonna sit in here with you guys."

Tracinya swallowed and gave a compulsory nod before letting her gaze drift to stare deliberately at nothing. She was afraid of the disappointment she was sure she'd see on Santiago's face, in her, in all of them.

Instead, he bumped her shoulder and gave her a small smile when she instinctively met his eyes. She didn't feel up to giving him one back but tried anyway. Some of the concern in his eyes lightened at the upward twitch of her lips, and she took it as an accomplishment.

Lightening Santiago's load was always an accomplishment.

When she looked back over at Spina, he was staring at his bag. She watched with sharp eyes as he pulled out a bar of chocolate. The one he got from the nurse back at the Field Hospital, she remembered.

She turned away as he brought the bar to his nose to inhale the bittersweet scent, trying to give him a private moment. Tracinya vaguely wished she had enough chocolate left over from the transited from Mandalor to spare a bit for her own comfort. Chocolate was a treat from the O.A.G. that was taking the galaxy by storm. People couldn't get enough of it and the O.A.G. was the only producer. She supposed that was a benefit of serving alongside the O.A.D.F. of having easy access to Chocolate.

What she did have, she didn't dare touch. She'd decided early on this debacle to divide her stockpile that she'd kept over the years into Republic Day presents for the boys, probably the only ones they'd see in this place. She'd distributed what she'd bought in through scrounging around before they'd pulled out of FOB Frost, but she'd been keeping a stockpile for herself in reserve out of habit, for bribes and the like.

She'd valiantly not touched it when her cycle started up a few days ago, and she wasn't going to touch it now.

She wished fervently that she hadn't been so liberal in passing out the chocolate before leaving FOB Frost. It had seemed wise at the time, but she longed for a bit of extra chocolate for herself, to make herself feel better. Even the smell was often enough to brighten her mood, and she desperately needed something for that.

Still, she wouldn't even dream of asking for some from Spina or Luke.

He already had too few reasons to keep going out here. He needed all the mood brightening he could get.

Thank the Force for nurses and chocolate.

---

That night, Tracinya found Babe shivering alone in his foxhole, staring blankly at the corner Julian must have sat in just a few hours ago.

"Hey, Babe," said she, sliding down in next to him, the ice cold, damp dirt falling down her ODs and itching fiercely against her skin. She was used to the uncomfortable sensation by now, though, and just shoved her hands into her armpits. She had no idea where her fucking gloves had gone, but by now they were probably buried under a foot of snow somewhere.

Babe didn't acknowledge her, but his head cocked a bit at the disturbance, so there was some hope. Some of the guys who went into shell-shock just disappeared completely into their own head. That Babe was acknowledging her at all was a good sign.

She tucked him under her arm and coaxed his head to rest on her shoulder. His damp breath and spit tickled her neck as his tears came in a rush all at once, his intermittent coughing wracking his frame and making him gag. Tracinya hoped he didn't puke on her, but she wasn't going to mention it if he did. Babe's entire body shook with his pain. He cried himself out as she held him, and if she cried too, he was too good to mention it.

An hour later, Babe was still stoically tucked into her side, composure and forlorn daze returned after the brief outpouring of emotion. Tracinya had done her best to just listen to him rage and cry without judgment, the way Luke had for her, but she knew she wasn't enough. Babe needed to be reminded that he still had friends out here, a reminder that he wasn't alone. He'd needed some human comfort, and she might have needed that too.

But she and Babe had never been close. He needed another outlet, someone who knew him, and what he and Julian had been – the very best of friends who, after many solitary nights, learned everything about each other.

She knew him well enough to know that he would never go to anyone else for the comfort he desperately needed on his own.

She quickly ran through the list of Babe's friends.

There was obviously Guarnere, but the Bolivian definitely wasn't someone she'd want to see her crying, and she doubted Babe felt differently, so he was out. Babe was probably closest with Gabriel Spina, the other medic in Easy, after Guarnere and the other replacements.

After a moment of thought, she decided that Spina was probably the best choice.

"Come on," she said.

Babe obediently got up. He was almost listless. Tracinya was well acquainted with the feeling.

She led the compliant Babe to the medic's hole. Tracinya slid into the hole first, Babe right behind her.

Spina was waiting for them. He took one look at Babe and shot Tracinya a grateful glance. She scanned the hole and realized that Luke was missing. She might've worried about him, but couldn't find the strength. Luke could take care of himself.

And she was too fragile to take care of anyone else right now, hence bringing Babe to Spina.

"Hey, buddy," said Spina as Babe sat down without prompting. The medic pulled the Private into his side and spread his blanket out to share.

Tracinya waited until they were both settled and Spina gave her a nod before she left. She desperately wanted to get back to her hole and sack out now that she knew Babe was in good hands.

She was exhausted.

The night was frigid.

Tracinya pulled her hands into the sleeves of her jacket and once again wondered how she could have been so careless as to lose her gloves. She had no hope of finding them, and she'd never longed so fiercely for an article of clothing. She'd put her plan of making some for Spina on hold since Toye had needed her spare socks for his feet. Plus, realistically, the socks wouldn't have done much good as gloves in the snow. Most of the men had purposefully abandoned their cloth jump gloves when they'd gotten soaked through because there was no way to dry them out. Fire was a bad idea, because it gave the Umbarans an excuse to start shelling their position again.

Tracinya's leather gloves had been better, if only just, but she'd misplaced them in a hurry one day – she never should've taken them off in the first place if she was being honest – but they were gone with no chance of ever being found, so she resigned herself to cold hands.

When she finally found her hole, she pulled up the tarp that covered the mouth and slid in, dirt and cold once more wriggling into her clothes to itch. She was almost surprised to find Luke already waiting for her, a grin on his face when she rolled her eyes.

She should have known he'd find a way to check on her.

Resigned, Tracinya sat next to him, shedding her helmet with a sigh and leaning against the dirt.

Luke distributed the blankets that had accumulated in her foxhole while she was gone. She suspected Spina, but wouldn't put it past Bull or Luke himself to have furnished an extra blanket or two. Whoever had done it, she was grateful for it now. The cold had frozen her to the bone. Luke wrapped her up, tucking the blanket under his shoulders and calves like her mother had when she was sick, slinging his arm around her shoulders as they settled in.

Tracinya closed her eyes, grateful to be off her feet for the first time in what felt like days. She was more than ready for this wretched day to be over. A part of her feared that Julian's death throes would be waiting to haunt her once she closed her eyes, but she was asleep before her head lolled onto Luke's shoulder.

---

2623 13th August Earth Standard Calendar, CPL Gabriel 'Doc/Spina' Ospina, Umbara

Gabrial was worried about Andres. He'd looked pretty distraught earlier, and he wasn't in his hole when the medic had gone by to check on him.

All sorts of scenarios ran through his head. Symptoms of battle fatigue sometimes included self mutilation out of desperation to get off the line. There was also the possibility that Babe had just upped and wandered off. He hoped the redhead had more sense than to wander off into the woods at night, but grief could do funny things to a man. If he had wandered off, Andres would probably freeze to death before he could catch up to him and after today, well, Gabriel didn't think the guys could handle that.

He wondered if Tracinya had seen the kid. She was a good bet to know where the kid had gone.

Somehow she always knew. He wasn't sure if it was because the guys in the company always seemed to find her, or if she found them, but he had a fair gamble of finding any guy who'd had a rough time have spent some time with her. Spina often found himself being pulled there – perhaps by God, or perhaps by good sense, particularly on days when guys too young to even vote died and there was nothing he could do to save them – when he was in need of a rekindling his hope.

He'd never be able to tell anyone how she did it or what exactly she did that always put him at ease, but it was true nonetheless.

Spina had been worried about her after the patrol, but he'd had his hands full with that injured man, and then Captain Mateo's inventory request. Sparrow had gone after her, though, and Spina knew that of anyone in Easy, Sparrow was probably the man she was closest to, and the most likely to calm her down. The medic wasn't entirely sure how their friendship worked, but it was well known that Sparrow could be trusted to look out for Tracinya. He knew they were SPECWAR and had spent some time before Umbara fighting together. Despite LT. Sparrow's standoffish nature he wasn't a bad guy. A hard shell and exterior probably from fighting for so long. He noticed that a lot of the lads were that way, or becoming that way. A result from spending a year and a half, encroaching on two years for them, three for the Republic.

He looked down and found himself at the hole he remembered Tracinya had been using this afternoon.

Most likely, she was still in it, but the guys had shifted around, Tracinya more than anyone for some reason, and it was hard to keep track. It was impossible to know for sure who was in any given foxhole without ducking under the tarp. Unfortunately, more often than not, this meant waking everyone trying to sleep inside, depriving already exhausted men of badly needed rest. There was nothing for it. He lifted the tarp and slid inside, immediately feeling warmer thanks to the heat from the two bodies already in the hole.

Tracinya was there, curled up with Sparrow, which he might've guessed, but no Andres.

Sparrow gave him a quick smile. "Hey Doc," he said at a whisper. "You lookin' for Trace?"

"Kind of," admitted the medic quietly. "Andres actually, but I thought I'd check on her while I was at it." He shot Sparrow a stern glare. "You wanna tell me what happened on your walk today?"

Sparrow knew better than to hold out on Spina. "She lost it for a bit, started wailing on a tree." He met Spina's eyes. "Scariest fucking thing I've ever seen."

Spina cocked an eyebrow.

"Bare hands, Doc," Sparrow informed him.

Spina nodded, pretending like he understood why his closest friend decided to go at it bare fisted with a tree, pretending like that was normal so that he didn't dwell on the fact that had it been even a little less private, if someone other than Sparrow – who was so loyal to Trace – saw, she'd be off the line for shell-shock or fatigue immediately – and most likely shipped home.

Funny how the thought seemed so dreadful now.

"Anything else?"

"Still coughin'. She's pretty exhausted too, fell asleep on me earlier."

"All right," said Spina, shaking her shoulder. He needed her awake so he could check on her hands. Right now they were tucked tight in her armpits, and he'd need a crowbar to pry them loose.

Tracinya woke with a groan. "What?" she croaked, blinking hard. It took her longer than usual to notice him, which was of concern. "Gabriel?" she whispered when dazed blue eyes finally landed on the medic.

"Hey, Trace," said Gabriel with a soft smile he didn't manage to muster for anyone else out here.

"What're you doin' here?" she asked, still blinking away sleep.

"I need to check your hands."

"My hands?" she questioned, slipping the trembling appendages free.

Spina grabbed on appendage and took note of the dried blood that had dripped between her fingers from swollen knuckles with concerned eyes. He assumed the trembling at least could be attributed to the cold, but if Tracinya had broken the bones in her knuckles or fingers, there was nothing he could do for her – he may even need to pull her from the line.

At this point, he wasn't entirely sure that was a good thing or a bad one – he was tired of watching his friends die, and he didn't even want to imagine it being Tracinya under his hands as she slipped away – but it was a moot point while they were surrounded. There was nowhere for any of them to go but straight into the Umbaran's line.

Plus, he didn't want to think about the consequences on Easy Company's morale if Tracinya got pulled from the line for an injury.

He looked the hand over gently, manipulating it into a fist and probing the swollen areas gently as he watched her face.

Spina tried to straighten one of her fingers, freezing when her face contorted with pain. "Sorry," he apologized, quickly letting go. "You probably fractured the bone there. Nothin' I can do for 'em."

Tracinya gave him a tight smile. "It's fine."

"Let me see your other hand," said Spina. She let him have it and hissed when he poked at her split knuckles this time. "Did that hurt?" he asked, prodding at her scabbed knuckles.

"You're poking my wounds, Gabe. Yes, it fucking hurts," she hissed with a glare, trying to yank her hand back.

Gabriel smiled and was surprised by his own laughter. "Sorry," he drawled catching her hand and pulling it back so he could get another look. She let him have it with a petulant glare that made him bite back another smile.

He shot a glance at Sparrow, who was chuckling too now.

Tracinya shot the other man a betrayed look before turning baleful eyes back on Gabriel. "Don't you even think about wasting a bandage on my stupidity. I earned those cuts, I earned the time it'll take to heal 'em too, and the pain that comes along with it," she told him, taking her hand back.

Gabriel stared at her, searching her eyes. "Okay," he said and settled in next to her. He smiled as he felt Ev's head hit his shoulder, her body folding against his and almost petulantly attempting to spread a blanket over him.

"I don't know what it is about you, Gabe," she said, her voice almost more of a hum than words.

He shifted, bending his neck at an awkward angle to see her clearly, taking in her closed eyes and peaceful expression, the lines in her face easing and shedding away what looked like hard years of struggle to leave behind a gentle young woman as she slipped towards sleep.

"What's that?" he prompted when Tracinya didn't continue after a long moment.

"Hm? Oh. Your hands Gabe. They're restful."

He traded a look with Sparrow, not sure what she was talking about.

Sparrow shrugged his shoulders, clueless too.

"Restful, huh?" said Gabriel.

"Yeah, you're a good medic, Gabe," she sighed with a content smile. "Where'd you learn to be such a good medic?"

Gabriel figured Tracinya was sleep drunk; spouting off things as they came to her mind but without conscious thought behind them. She might not even remember having said them later. It was oddly comforting since it made her seem young and careless. He'd never known her to be either of those things when conscious.

"In Brazil, we had village healers called Witchdoctors. My grandmother was a Witchdoctor," he said, deciding to humour her. Even in the 26th century, there were still some native tribes in South America, Africa and the Pacific islands. He didn't see how it could hurt and he'd never seen her like this before. It was more than a little funny.

"Your grandmother?" she said with a bit of a slur. He watched, bemused, as Tracinya sat up suddenly to give him an intense look, every blink taking longer and longer before her eyes opened again.

"Yep. She laid her hands on people and cured 'em. She asked the Spirits to take away the pain she pulled out of people. She pulled out sickness, cancer, you name it, and asked them to carry it away." He gave a laugh that sounded more like a hiss of air as he saw his grandmother's smiling face behind his eyes, soothing him as she had as a child. He swallowed the image down, unwilling to bring even her memory to this place. "That's what she did."

"You have that gift too," said she, with a smile.

Gabriel laughed bitterly.

He didn't believe her, mostly because she was talking nonsense – Tracinya was definitely more than half-asleep – but also because he was nothing like his grandmother. She'd never let someone die under her hands; not like him. He couldn't heal everyone who asked, everyone who needed it, who screamed and begged for it, not even the friends that he loved.

Tracinya grabbed his hand, fiercely shaking it to emphasize her point. "It's true!"

He bit down a smile, but shot Sparrow another loaded glance, inviting the other man to share the joke.

Tracinya continued, completely missing the men's indulgent expressions. "You put your hands on people and it calms them down. You cure their minds of the fear that war brings. They know in their soul that you're there to help them, that you won't rest until either you do, or they're in their God's hands, where there is no pain. If that isn't a gift in this forsaken war, then I'm not sure what is."

"It's a very painful gift," said Gabriel. He tried to keep his voice light, but from the heavy knowing look she gave him, severe despite her drooping eyelids and the sharp glance from Sparrow, he hadn't succeeded. A part of his soul ached every day for those he couldn't save. Sometimes comfort wasn't enough.

"'God only gives tests he knows we can pass.'" Sparrow quoted, while Tracinya was sinking back down until her head was Gabriel's his shoulder.

"He wouldn't burden you with something you couldn't survive, Gabe." Tracinya finished.

Gabriel stared at the woman, half asleep on his shoulder and speaking like a prophet. He didn't know if she really was touched by God, but what she said resonated with him, sending a wave of feeling all the way down into his bones.

"I got a story that'll make you laugh," Gabriel said, wondering if his friend would manage to keep awake through the whole story or if he should save it for another time.

Tracinya forced lagging eyes open again, blinking sleepily at him. He almost regretted keeping her awake, but he didn't want her dwelling on his problems when she was supposed to be resting. She was still sick herself, even if she thought she was hiding it from him.

"What's the story, Doc?" said Sparrow. He looked worn around the edges too.

They both needed a laugh.

"I was in town at the hospital. There was a kid, a sergeant, laying on a homemade stretcher. He had a colt .45 on him, and he's just been waiting there a while I guess, waiting for a bed. Anyway the radio was on and turns over to Bing Crosby, singing "White Christmas." The sergeant whipped out his gun and blew the radio to pieces with one shot, hollering, "Come over here, you son of a bitch, I'll give you a white Christmas!'" Gabriel tried to imitate the kids accent, but was pretty sure he'd missed it.

Tracinya raucous laughter was sharp before she buried the sound in her hand. Sparrow made no effort to hide his own amusement.

Gabriel smiled, satisfied.

Tracinya's eyes fluttered closed and she whispered one last sentiment into his collar. "I'm glad you're here, Doc."

And she was asleep.

"For what it's worth, Doc," said Sparrow. "I'm glad you're here too."

Gabriel didn't know what to say to that. He nodded simply, which satisfied the man.

He let himself enjoy the quiet for a few minutes before carefully shifting Tracinya's weight over to Sparrow, the exhausted woman moving willingly at his coaxing in a show of trust that touched him deeply.

Though a part of him longed to stay here, in the safety and company of his friends, he needed to find Andres, especially since the kid wasn't here.

"I gotta go find Andres. You seen him?" he asked once the woman was settled, realizing that Sparrow had never actually answered him before.

"No," said Sparrow softly so he didn't wake Tracinya.

"All right, thanks," said Gabriel as he crawled out of the hole. "Take care of her?"

"Always, Doc," said Sparrow as Gabriel closed the flap over his friends, lingering just long enough to send a prayer to God that he'd watch over those two for him.

The wind howled. Gabriel shoved his hands into his pockets and shivered. He needed to find Andres and get to his own hole before he became a human popsicle.

Figuring he must've returned from patrol by now if someone had been cruel or kind enough to give the kid something to do – and patrol's the only place anybody ever went out here – Gabreil circled back to Babe's hole.

Nothing.

Fuck.

There was nothing for it. Gabriel started systematically checking through the covered holes, ducking into them and disturbing their sometimes sleeping occupants as he searched for the missing private.

Where the hell did Andres go? he wondered.

Out of the fog appeared a figure. Gabreil almost immediately knew that the man wasn't the enemy – not the right shape. He ran forward.

As he got closer, his traitorous heart clamoured that he'd finally found his quarry, relief sparking through him. Surely it could only be the person he was looking for? He'd accounted for just about everyone else.

"Andres?" he called as he got into earshot.

The figure came into focus once he was within a few feet of the man. It wasn't Andres, but Toye, sitting on a log outside his foxhole.

"Toye?"

---

25031 Galactic Standard Calendar, Tracinya Vizla, Umbara

A mortar round jolted her awake with a gasp.

She blinked in confusion. Luke was still asleep next to her, somehow managing to sleep through the ground shaking. In deference to the man's obvious exhaustion, Tracinya tried to leave the hole as quietly as possible. He could use all the sleep he could get.

She stretched as she fit the brisk morning air, luxuriating in the glow of the vegetation, not really warm but certainly less frigid than before.

The zipping roar of starfighters sailing by drew her gaze and she suddenly realized what should've been immediately obvious: there was light streaking from the trees, caressing the snow and earth like a long lost friend.

The fog is gone! Thank Kriff.

The sound of the O.A.G. repulser engines, growing louder with each second, cut through the air. Tracinya ran for them with more than half the camp emptying behind her. It took no time at all to reach the edge of the forest and start scanning the open, blessedly less dark skyline for friendly planes.

It was well known that the Umbaran air power had been all but destroyed before the invasion. It certainly would've been a hell of a lot harder to take the landing grounds if the Umbarans had been in any shape to do damage or defend themselves from the sky. The Allies had been the uncontested rulers of the air for months now.

If you heard a starfighter, there was a good chance that it belonged to the Allies.

Elated, Tracinya scanned the crowd of eager soldiers for her friends. It didn't take long for her to find Gabriel, standing next to First Sergeant Frenanda, towards the centre of the clumping soldiers.

She joined them and gave the men the biggest smile she could muster, greeting them with a quiet, but reverent, "Halleluiah."

Easy Company launched red smoke grenades for the planes, so the pilots could find their location, to let the boys in the air know they were still alive down here.

The starfighter planes turned over and came back – seeing the smoke. The men cheered.

A plane dived, sending a barrage of screaming bullets down the along the tree line right for them.

Tracinya dived, scrambling for her gun.

It was missing.

She'd left it in her foxhole.

Idiot! she cursed. Stupid! What's the first rule of basic training? Don't drop your gun? And I plum forgot it in the middle of a siege! Goddamn it! I know better.

She looked up, and screamed, "Doc!"

Her friend hadn't moved, still completely exposed to the hail of bullets.

He was going to be shot right in front of her. She was going to watch him die, riddled with plasma, and there was nothing she could do about it without her fucking gun!

Fernanda seized Gabe, and yanked the still stunned medic back under the tree cover.

Tracinya heaved a breath as her heart lurched and then tried to re-establish a normal rhythm.

Thank the Force, she prayed, putting her face into the dirt. Thank you.

The other soldiers started firing back at the planes – they couldn't just sit here and take the abuse, they didn't have enough people as it was. Early on, they'd been told not to wave at the passing planes. From the sky the pilots didn't – couldn't – know friend from foe, and they were trained to shoot anything that moved.

In their elation at finally seeing the much missed aircraft, they'd all forgotten. Even her.

She lay on the ground and cursed herself over for being stupid enough to forget her gun as their own plans strafed them again.

"I don't understand!" cried Gabe. "Those are our own planes!"

By some miracle, the fighters veered off and didn't make another pass.

A deeper sound filled the air, a sound she'd know anywhere. She looked up.

"C-330s," said Fernanda, confirming Tracinya's thoughts, her hopes. "They're making a drop!"

Tracinya's eyes fluttered closed in relief. They were gonna make it.

---

Some of the stuff hit them, but the drop zone was the village. Gabe took a whole squad into the town to pick up supplies. She gathered up the now empty packs she'd gathered up on her last foray into the village and handed them over to the fellas going back into town with Gabe. Sure, there would be boxes they could pack, but every little bit helped.

"Make sure you fill it up, all right?" she told the kid she handed the bags to.

He was a young guy, with dark hair and a skittish look about him. He'd only joined them recently right before they'd been pulled into this mess. She thought his name might be Felipe.

She shook her head to clear it and refocused on the kid. "Steal it if you have to," she told him. "We may never see another drop like this one. We're going to need all the help we can get."

Tracinya helped organize the men who'd stayed behind into patrols and sent them out to scout the woods for any supplies that had dropped short and landed in the woods.

It kept her occupied until Gabriel came back with the supplies a few hours later.

There was something different about her friend. For some reason, he seemed even more fractured than when he'd left, which was ridiculous, considering they'd just been resupplied.

Tracinya was about to go over and make him talk to her when duty pulled her away.

"Vizsla?" called Fernanda.

Without a choice, Tracinya went, determined that she'd find Gabreil and talk to him later.

She just hoped he would be okay until then.

LINE BREAK

It was Tracinya's turn in the OP. She was with Sanchez, Babe, and Diego. Snow fell softly, luminescent in the lights cast by the trees against the even pitch-darker night as the foursome watched the tree-line where they knew the Umbarans were waiting for them.

"Now we know how they felt," Sanchez said.

Tracinya jumped. The Private had just started talking out of the blue. She swatted at Diego, who was laughing at her.

"What-Who?" Babe asked, turning to look at the blond man.

Tracinya kept her eyes back on the line, still fighting embarrassment at being so obviously startled, but cocked an ear in Sanchez's direction. At least Babe hadn't noticed her jumping into the air like some green recruit, thank heavens for that; she might've never lived it down, especially with Deigo spurring him on.

"The Spaniards," Sanchez said, elaborating on the stray thought. "When they were watching the tribsmen from back home in Brazil."

Oh, that story, thought Tracinya, remembering a vague history lesson from once upon a time from Luke. Huh, I hadn't really thought about it before, but he's right. This is the same spot.

Of the several ancient civilizations that existed on earth, Rome was probably her favourite. Somehow, despite the violence and blood in Rome, the civilization had been one of the most successful civilizations that had ever existed.

A lot of that was Rome building off the foundation of the Greeks, and yet the Romans were driven by conquest, by war.

Tracinya had always loved the idea of war – the power and influence that it gave.

She knew better now.

After experiencing first-hand the misery that came with being a soldier, sent to fight and watch her friends die for some goal that existed only on paper, she'd never be able to think of war as a glorious pursuit again.

The Sack of Rome by the Visigoths signified the beginnings of the Dark Ages; where violence and ignorance reigned. Would that be their fate? Was this war the end of modern civilization like the Goths were the end of Rome?

"So," said Babe, sensing that it was time to change the subject properly. "What was college like, Sanchez? You got time to hit the books with the cheerleaders running their fingers through your hair?" Tracinya could hear the shiver in Babe's voice. His helmet was nearly white it had so much frost on it.

"No, Babe, I-" Sanchez paused to swallow hard. "I can't even remember."

"Maybe Sarge'll run her fingers through your hair?" said Diego, reaching over to push her shoulder.

She tumbled into Sanchez, not expecting the sudden shove. She regained her balance quickly, getting off the lieutenant so she could smack Diego more viciously this time. He flinched out of the way and she only managed to get him on the helmet with her bare hand. It wasn't the smartest thing she'd ever done. It mildly annoyed Diego, but her hand stung fiercely, snow now clinging to her skin. She shook it, hoping to dissipate the feeling.

Diego laughed at her, sharp enough to see the way her lips were twitching up, Babe only a beat behind. Tracinya's eyes cut to the Private and caught him smiling. Sanchez's smile was small, but genuine, and it was the first real smile she'd seen from him all week.

"Fuck off," she bit, facing the line again, ignoring the boys sniggering behind her.

There was a soft grunt behind them, snow crunched under the weight of a man coming up on their rear.

Babe, Diego, and her all whirled around, guns ready to blow the guy to hell. Sanchez stayed frozen in his spot, staring at the barren land that marked the line.

"Hey, it's Doc," said Gabriel right before she was going to pull the trigger. "Trace," he greeted, blatantly disregarding the fact that he'd nearly been shot. "Boys."

Gabe passed them several of the blankets they'd acquired during the drop. He stayed just long enough to tell them to wrap up before he was off again to take care of some other soldiers on the line. He didn't even stay to chat, so Tracinya knew he probably had a destination in mind. She hoped it wasn't Fernanda or Santiago. If either of those two got ill, or wounded – Force forbid – the entire company would fall apart around their ears.

Diego watched him go. "He never calls anybody by their nickname, 'cept Sarge," he qualified, passing out the blankets. He tucked one around her shoulders, even as she tensed up, ready to defend her friend.

"He once called me Edwardo," Babe confessed before she'd even opened her mouth.

"Is that right?" asked Diego, still fussing with unfolding the blankets to get them onto the others.

Sanchez turned from where his gaze had wandered off to the right to stare at the former replacement. "Edwardo?" he asked. "That's your name?"

"Yeah," said Babe with an awkward smile.

"Funny," said Sanchez, turning back to the line. "You don't look like an Edwardo."

"What does an Edwardo look like?" asked Tracinya, distractedly. Buck didn't answer, but Diego huffed a laugh as he put a blanket over the fellow private's shoulders.

They stayed silent for a while, only broken by Deigo's wheezing coughs and her occasional deeper ones.

Tracinya turned what Deigo had said about Gabe over in her head.

It was true. Gabe tried his best to distance himself from the men.

She hadn't really noticed it before, but here it was hard to miss. She'd put his distance down to the fact that they were both busy. He was a medic. He had more important things to be doing than checking in with his friends, and frankly so did she. But it was more than that, deeper.

Gabe's distance was easy to overlook if you weren't paying attention. It was that thing that a part of you recognized but the rest was content to ignore.

Tracinya kicked herself for missing the signs. Gabe rarely sat with them when he ate. He never called anyone, perhaps other than herself, by their nickname, only their rank and perhaps a last name.

In some ways, she envied him for the detachment he maintained with the guys. They let him get away with calling them by names they didn't often use so that he would be treating Cpl. Sisk, not Skinny. It didn't help much, but if that's what he needed to do his job, who was she – were they – to ask him not to?

It was understandable, and the more she thought about it, the more understandable it became.

It was also terribly sad.

Her friend Gabe and his professional persona might as well be different people, and here on Umbara, there was too much need for Doc Spina for her to see much of Gabriel at all.

"It's probably a lot easier for Doc Spina to work on soldiers rather than his friends," she said absentmindedly. She hadn't even realized she'd spoken until her words had hung in the air for a while.

No one else had anything to share on the subject.

She desperately wished that Gabe and Doc Spina were different people, but she couldn't imagine a worthier man for the burden of being their angel in this icy hell.

It wasn't that he alone stood between them and God, Tracinya selfishly hoped that it was Doc Spina who came running when she needed a medic.

Diego, sensing her plummeting mood, pulled her into his side.

Tracinya accepted the hug and settled down to watch the line, but she was too anxious about Gabe to sleep easy.

She couldn't believe she hadn't noticed before.

It was hard on everybody when people got killed – it didn't matter if it was her friends or the replacements – but it was especially hard on Gabe.

The replacements didn't get it sometimes, the hardship of always knowing that any minute now the person sitting next to you could just be gone, but then they didn't get a lot of things. She just wished they'd stay alive a little longer.

Her thoughts drifted back to Julian's dark, searching eyes as he reached out for Babe, clutching at the gaping hole where his Adam's apple used to be.

She rubbed her aching eyes and hoped Diego hadn't seen her tears. She ignored the extra tightening of his arms for the compassion it likely was, and instead used it to bury her face onto his shoulder.

She forced herself to sleep when it was her rotation. She didn't know when she'd get it next out here on the OP, so she took advantage of the moment and willed herself into sleep.

---

The next morning they repelled an attack by Umbaran artillery. Tanks. Fucking tanks were rolling towards them from the tree line.

Sergeant Fernanda ran along the lines, "Hold your fire, boys; don't let them draw you out. Stay ready, boys." Tracinya heard her run past her presumably on her way to her own foxhole.

"What the hell are we going to hit those things with?" she heard Samuel ask.

Tracinya stayed in her hole and prayed.

---

They lost Smokey. Paralyzed, Luke said. Gabe had come back from the village an empty shell. She'd seen how long it took him to respond and get out of his hole. Luke nearly had to drag him out before Gabe became the flurry of motion he normally was.

It scared her. Gabe was breaking on them, and there was nothing she could do.

What on Mandalor are we going to do without Doc Spina?

---

That night, Tracinya found Carlos in his foxhole. Word had it that it was Republic Day Eve tonight.

"Hey, Carlos," she greeted as she slid into the hole.

"Well, if it isn't Sergeant Vizsla. Haven't seen you in a while!" he said, his teeth chattering.

"Oh you know, I've been around, this hole, that one."

Carlos smiled and slapped her shoulder. "So, what can I do for you?" he asked.

"Well, seeing as its Republic Day's and all, I was hoping you'd do me a favour." Tracinya pulled out her bag, and rifled through it for the very precious cigarettes and chocolate she'd stockpiled over the time spent at FOB Frost. She had only rarely touched it, despite her often craving for the chocolate and the value in the cigarettes, saving it for this moment.

"Holy, shit!" said Carlos. "Where the hell did you get that?"

Tracinya gave him a secretive smile.

"And you've been holding out on us all this time!"

"If I hadn't, we wouldn't have any Republic Day presents to speak of."

"Republic Day presents?" said Carlos, suddenly looking at the bounty with a different perspective. "Is that like Christmas or something? How did you manage this?"

"I've been saving up."

"Yeah," said Carlos with a nod of his head. "What can I do to help?" he asked, eager to be a part of this scheme.

"Could you to pass them out? I want to make sure the guys get 'em tonight, so they can enjoy their presents on Republic Day. But I don't want the guys to know it's from me, or your God knows they'll never stop pestering me for more," said Tracinya with a smile.

It would break her heart to have to tell them no, particularly since she was holding something back.

She was keeping back another two packets of cigarettes just for Luke and Gabe.

Carlos nodded. "You got it!" he said, scooping up the bounty. He didn't even bother saying goodbye before he bounded out of the hole, much to Tracinya's amusement, suddenly filled with energy. She hadn't seen Carlos so enthusiastic in a long time.

She dusted her hands and figured she'd go find something to do. There was never nothing to do.

---

Tracinya was in the long line for food, shivering and ignoring the dull boom of artillery fire that drifted through the fog. They'd been eating better since the drop, but not much. They'd taken the risk and pulled everyone in the Company into camp to enjoy a Republic Day meal together. It wasn't momma's home cooking, but it was a veritable feast when compared to the last month of scant rations.

Tracinya got a second scoop in a spare mug she'd found and brought it over to where Gabe was sitting by himself again. He took it from her hand easily enough but made no move to do anything with it but hold it. She sat down beside him and sipped at hers, trying to get it down before it turned to ice in her hands.

Looking up, she caught Captain Santiago observing Gabe's apathetic response.

Tracinya, when his gaze turned to her, gave him a helpless shrug of her shoulders.

Gabe was withdrawing, even from her now. And it made her feel useless in a way that she'd avoided thus far. She was the only friend Gabe had out here by her reckoning. If he pulled away from her too, where would he go? Where would she?

She was well aware that Gabe wasn't doing so hot at the moment, but she tried to trust his judgment. If he wanted off the line for a moment, he'd let Santiago know. Or, at least she hoped he would. With the way these past few weeks had been going, no one left the line for a rest in the village. They could all use one, but they were so short on fighting men that anyone injured tried not to be.

Come to think of it, she wasn't sure she trusted Gabe's judgment of his condition for duty. Gabe would be out here as long as he was needed, and he was always needed. That was that.

And as long as he continued to do his job, Santiago wouldn't pull him.

She hoped that Gabe knew what he was doing. Easy Company, herself included, needed him too much to lose him to the hospital in the Umbaran village because of carelessness or the demons in his head.

She had to pray that he knew what he was doing.

Tracinya took a bite of her stew and tried to put Gabe's dwindling condition out of her mind. It didn't work, but she wouldn't be able to talk him into a break, so she didn't even try.

A jeep pulled up into camp. GAbe didn't even bother looking up, too lost in his own mind. Tracinya cast a long look at him and then got up to see what all the fuss was about.

A man hopped down from the jeep, wading into the men who gathered around him to hear his news.

"Well, they're sitting down to a Republic Day Eve dinner of turkey and hooch back at the Division CP, but damned if I don't like Joe Domingus's rancid ass beans better." Tracinya recognized the twang of Colonel Sink's accent immediately and stood to greet the Colonel.

Despite what he'd said, the Colonel didn't generally just pop over. He had something he wanted to share with them or he'd have picked a more private time to talk to Captain Santiago.

"Hello, Easy Company," said Colonel Sink, making his way over to Santiago – who shook the Colonel's hand.

Tracinya guessed that whatever news it was, it was likely to be good news, a moral boost of some kind to keep them in good spirits. She joined Luke, who was fishing into his mug for missed morsels. He smirked at her. She presumed she looked a little odd, bundled up the way she was. She had her scarf wrapped around most of her face, leaving only her eyes open to the biting cold, and her hands wedged up under her armpits, cup and all. Even with her fully encasing armour the cold still seeped through the internal heating systems.

Santiago waved a cold hand at the Colonel, who unfolded the piece of paper he'd apparently tried to get Santiago to read.

"Men!" he said, gathering the stragglers to form a semi-circle to see and hear the Colonel better. "Sergeant Vizsla, Diego," he said giving Tracinya a smile and a nod, getting the laughs he was hoping for and lightening the mood immediately.

Tracinya tipped her head, letting the men have their laugh and endured the slaps to her back. "Sir," she said, realizing for the first time that he had a nice smile as he gave her an indulgent one. She caught Santiago, Mateo, and Strayer also smiling and exchanging knowing looks. It made her feel good that at least someone was in a good mood. If her eyes strayed to Gabe to check on him, well, she didn't think anyone noticed her disappointment when he hadn't even shifted.

"General McAuliffe wishes us all a Merry Christmas, I mean Republic Day. What's 'merry' about all this you ask? Just this: we've stopped cold everything that's been thrown at us from the north, east, south, and west. Now, two days ago, the Umbaran Commander demanded our honourable surrender to save the O.A.D.F. encircled troops from total annihilation. The Umbaran commander received the following reply: To the Umbaran Commander, to quote a once great man: NUTS!"

The men laughed at what was probably a thing only the Orionians would get. Nuts indeed.

Luke shot her an amused glance from the corner of his eye, and seeing her laughing, gave the biggest grin she'd seen from him since before Mandalor, and went back to his meal. Tracinya nodded to herself a few more times.

Nuts, she liked that.

What else, Tracinya wondered, does such a message send to the supposedly elite Umbaran force? That we're all nuts? That's true enough.

Maybe it's an emulation of the Orionian battle cries 'Retreat! Hell, we just got here!' Or maybe it's just a big old fuck you? Any of those messages, hell all of them, work well enough for me.

"For giving our country and our loved ones at home a worthy Republic Day present, being privileged to take part in this gallant feat of arms, we are truly making for ourselves a Merry Republic Day," said Sink, ending on a sober note. He folded up the paper and saluted them with it. "Merry Republic Day to you all and God bless you."

Sink left with a pat to Santiago's back. Tracinya intoned: "Merry Republic Day, sir!" with the rest of them, trying to ignore the echoing explosions. The sound was muted by the trees and far enough away that the ground wasn't shaking with the impact, but she heard them like ominous foretelling of what was to come.

Most of the boys started snickering as the Colonel drifted through them, a few echoed "Nuts!" screamed by the more boisterous fellows, drowning out the blasts for a few blessed moments and she was able to enjoy the moment again.

She tucked another smile into her chest as a shiver wracked her body and she choked down a cough. Fuck, it's cold.

Trying to warm up, get her blood flowing, she decided to walk around exchanging Republic Day greetings with the guys. She checked them over for signs of wariness or illness and bolstered spirits with jokes and shenanigans. If her own soul felt warmer, she didn't think it was entirely due to the exertion.

She made sure to touch base with each of her squad mates and the other Sergeants. She even shook Santiago's hand and wished him well. She made sure her smile was warm even as her teeth were chattering, and appreciated the effort the other boys were going to all the more as they smiled back. There was only one person who forwent the exchange. She tried to pretend she didn't notice the missing member, certain it was not his intention to drag down the mood, but she couldn't help her gaze from straying to him often.

Gabe didn't move at all.

She racked her brain for something, anything to pull him out of his head for a little while.

A stray thought struck her. She changed direction abruptly and headed back to her foxhole.

She caught sight of her bag and upended it and shook vigorously to knock everything out. There, at the very top of the pile, was the Mandalorian legends book she'd brought with her. She'd completely forgotten about it.

She tucked it into her armpit and repacked the bag haphazardly in her hurry.

Excited, she headed back to where she'd left Gabe. He was still there, staring blankly into his solidifying mug.

She sat next to him softly and pulled the book from her armpit, presenting it to Gabe with a smile.

"Merry Republic Day, Gabe."

He blinked, noticing the book with confusion. "What's this?" he asked. "I thought you already gave me a present."

"I forgot one."

His brow furrowed under his white crusted helmet. "What is it?"

She blinked. "It's a book I picked up on Mandalor. It's about the various folk tales and legends of Mandalor."

"I can't read it," he said, turning the book over curiously between pale, long-fingered hands.

"I thought you spoke fluent Mando'a?" she said, perplexed.

"I do," he said. "They don't teach it in schools though. I didn't have the time to teach me to read and write it."

"Drat," she said, disappointed. "I meant it to be a surprise. I heard it was very good."

"It was a surprise. Thank you, Trace," he said, smiling at her for the first time in a long time. "This might be a good way to start learning."

"Maybe that nurse'll help you," she teased.

He bumped her shoulder, but actually laughed, quietly, but a laugh all the same.

"You should eat something," she reminded him gently.

He shook his head but complied, taking an exaggerated bite. His face contorted in disgust as the cold congealed gruel hit his tongue.

This time it was her who laughed.

It was good to have her new friend back, even if it was only for a little while.

---

After he'd finished his dinner and said goodbye, Gabe wandered off. She wasn't sure exactly where, but she was certain he was going off to be alone again.

She held off for a few minutes, but convincing herself that she was walking the line to look after her squad, not actively hunting him down.

He must've dug a private hole somewhere off the line, since she'd checked most of the holes the others were in.

She gave a nod to the wandering Captain Santiago, headed in the opposite direction. He seemed to have a destination, a focus, on where he was going. He gave her the tiniest of nods as he passed.

The Captain looked frozen solid. Each move he made was deliberate. He'd locked his hands underneath his armpits. His helmet might as well be rattling with how stiff he was holding his neck to keep the shivering at bay.

Feeling acute sympathy, she let him be and headed in another direction.

By chance, she ended up catching Captain Mateo in the woods, probably on his way back from a piss.

"Sergeant Vizsla," he greeted her with a smile. "You on a walk?"

"Oh you know, the weather's perfect for it."

He laughed. It was a nice sound. "You're funny, Vizsla."

"Glad you think so, sir."

"I could've sworn I told you to call me Mateo."

"You might've." She honestly couldn't remember.

"So I heard you drift between holes?"

"That's right," she answered, unsure where he was going with this.

"Where're you tonight?"

"Nowhere yet."

He nodded; such was the way of these things sometimes. "You should stick with me and Dick in the CP. He needs a new runner for a while."

"Respectfully, sir, I'd rather not leave my guys."

Tracinya tried to gage the Captain's mood. He seemed thoughtful, but that was normal. She had wanted to ask him a question for a while, but the opportunity hadn't presented itself. Now seemed as good a time as any. "Can I ask you something, sir?"

He shot her a glance, looking amused and she realized that she'd forgotten to use his name again. "Ask away," he said instead of commenting on it.

"Why are you out here with us? You could be up at Division CP right now in a warm house with food and a bed. Why do you stay?"

"What and miss all this?"

She laughed, but the cold stole the sound. She remembered why she liked talking to Mateo; he made everything seem easier for some reason.

"Besides, I couldn't leave Dick out here to freeze to death."

She smiled at him. It was true enough that Santiago seemed inordinately eager to give away his winter supplies, including his coat and scarf. If the men didn't respect him so much, they might've taken him up on it. It was certainly more than any of the other officers did.

Mateo huddled further into his scarf before becoming serious once more. "Besides, I'm the intelligence officer. I can't very well get good intelligence from the HQ. Truth is," he paused, seeming to think about whether or not to continue before giving a 'to-hell-with-it' shrug and continuing. "There are more Umbarans than us and their guns are bigger than ours. One coordinated strike from all sides and we're done. I don't know what they're waiting for, but I'll be damned if I'm all the way back in base when it finally happens."

Tracinya knew that it was extremely out of character for Mateo to provide anyone other than Santiago with his prophesies of doom and tried not to think about how dire their situation must be for him to confide in her. Perhaps he assumed that she'd take it to her grave, and if he didn't, well she would in any case.

They were within sight of the CP when they found Luke sleeping by himself in a hole, spare blanket at his side. He'd obviously been waiting for someone; Tracinya figured might've been her. She gave Mateo a smile and hopped down next to her buddy and scooped up the blanket.

"Merry Republic Day, Mateo," she said, remembering his name this time as she settled down and covered up.

"Yeah," he said, "you too, Vizsla."

She watched him wander back to his covered hole with veiled concern. She hoped he was gonna be all right.

Taking a deep breath of the sharply cold air and coughing as it stung her lungs, she nestled down into her blanket. She left Luke alone so she wouldn't wake him, though she thought about doing it anyway for the body heat. Putting it from her mind, she tried to think warm thoughts.

She was just about to close her eyes when she saw Lieutenant Lucas wander by their hole without a glance. She bit her lip to keep from glaring at him. She hadn't forgotten the patrol he'd abandoned them on. She didn't think she'd ever forget it.

She would have put it out of her mind but a strange smell tickled her nose. She couldn't place it for a moment before the memory of camping in the woods, the acid sweet scent of burning sap and snapping wood hit her. As the sound of gently crackling wood reached her ears, her brain clicked into gear. Could someone possibly be insane enough to have built a fire?

She pulled herself out of her hole to go check.

Tracinya made her way to the precious small glow of orange, squatting in the snow next to Welsh and Lieutenant Lucas.

"We're in a dell," said Lieutenant Welsh in greeting as he began prodding the blaze with a twig. He said it like it was supposed to mean something to her.

She nodded and stuck out her hands to warm them. She would have spoken to him, but her teeth were chattering too much for her to make much sense. Sensing her dilemma, he grinned at her, his ivory teeth glinting in the flickering light. She might have flipped him off if she had been able to convince herself to pull them from the fire.

She looked up when she heard a new crunch from crushed snow, a very familiar sound as it was trodden under boots. She didn't look up to acknowledge the newcomer, because she was well aware that what they were doing was foolish, stupid, and crazy, and yet she couldn't manage to convince herself to walk away or, Force forbid, put it out. The fear of possibly being shelled was gone as she savoured the meagre scrap of warmth, clinging to it as sense left her.

"Welsh," said Santiago. Tracinya's eyes flew to his face, already anticipating his disapproving stare. Fortunately, he was addressing Welsh, "Fire's not a good idea."

"Just a couple'a minutes," said the man in reply, "We're in a dell."

"A dell?" asked Santiago, squatting down as well to join them despite his caution. Tracinya was relieved. If Santiago was joining them, then he couldn't berate them for their lunacy. "Where fairies and gnomes live?" he queried.

"Yeah," said Welsh, a sudden teasing smile on his face, "Sarge here can be the fairy."

"Only if you're the gnome," she retorted, speaking before her brain fully caught up with her mouth. She'd have said it to any of the other guys, but this was a Lieutenant that she very much respected.

She was fortunate that both he and Santiago laughed. Lucas notably didn't comment, too entranced in his head. She uncharitably thought that it was rather typical of him.

"I swear I thought I could smell a fire," came the sleepy voice of Captain Mateo. Tracinya smiled at the state of the man as he wandered over. "I did smell a fire," he said, freezing at the sight of it for only a moment before he hurried to join them. "Are you out of your mind?" he demanded even as he was shoving his hands out to absorb the fire's heat.

"We're in a dell," said Santiago, "with fairies," he gestured vaguely at he, "and gnomes" his hand indicated the Lieutenant.

"Huh?" asked Mateo, giving Santiago a bewildered glance as he looked at the two. Tracinya opened her mouth to explain when it seemed that neither Santiago and Welsh were inclined to do so, but she never got the chance.

The ground around them buckled and shattered.

Mortars started flying, zipping overhead to bombard their position once again, likely lured by the fire and their lack of sense.

"Go!" shouted Santiago, pushing Tracinya away from the fire, which was the best target for the Umbarans for miles.

Welsh wasn't so lucky. A mortar exploded feet from him, sending all kinds of debris and shrapnel into his leg.

Santiago scrambled over to his friend, screaming for a medic over Welsh's anguished cries, his helmet abandoned in the snow behind him. He gripped Welsh's hands to keep the lieutenant from flailing and tried to reassure the wounded man that he wasn't alone, tried to get him to calm down and focus.

If there were splinters in the wound, Welsh clutching at it would just drive them in further and create havoc for the medic trying to stitch him back together.

But Welsh was too far gone with pain to understand that Santiago was trying to help him, acting on instinct to protect his wounded leg with his hands and wildly fighting off his friend's efforts.

Tracinya joined Santiago over Welsh, ducking under the Lieutenant's flailing arms to get at the wound. She yanked off her scarf to use as a tourniquet, focused on tying off the bleeding.

She vaguely heard Mateo ordering a jeep from someone, but that too was pushed out of her focus by the much more pressing matter of Welsh's blood spilling over her hands. It was an upper thigh wound. If they didn't stop the gushing blood, or if something had nicked the artery, Lieutenant Welsh was a dead man.

Luke came over to help, obviously awoken by the shelling, and stamped out the fire at Mateo's hoarse command.

Santiago tore Welsh's pants open to expose the wound. It wasn't bleeding as much now that they'd tied the scarf off, but the man wasn't out of danger yet, Tracinya worried. The scarf wasn't designed to keep tight. The knot wouldn't hold and they had nothing better to tie it with.

All of their aid kits had been scrounged, and likely used, by the medics days ago.

Santiago screamed for a medic again. "Medic! Doc!"

Tracinya considered adding her voice and quickly decided against it. She didn't want the medic confused. One call per fallen man. If she called too, it would add to the confusion rather than get faster results.

Gabe should be here by now, she thought, suddenly petrified.

If Gabe wasn't answering the call for a medic, something must be horribly wrong. He might even need a medic himself.

She looked up. Santiago met her eye for a critical second before he nodded. Tracinya tore herself away from keeping pressure and set off to go find her friend.

She ran through the woods, praying that somehow the mortars would pass her by. She felt bits of blasted trees peppering her armour, nicking her helmet as she ran.

How does Gabe do this every fucking time? she wondered as she scanned the foxholes. Each second she wasted felt like it was the one that Welsh would give up and die. Why did I give up on finding him earlier?

She ran into Babe. He'd probably been roused from his own hole at the cry for a medic and gone to help.

They needed to find their medic. Now.

An exploding shell rocked the ground behind them, sending Tracinya's legs from under her. She managed to maintain her footing and keep running, but how she'd never know.

"Doc!" Babe screamed as he followed her, giving voice to the cry that she hadn't been able to find the strength to utter.

She wanted to believe that if she just didn't holler for him, Gabe would be all right when they found him. She tried to convince herself that he was answering some other downed soldier's cry. Not wounded, bleeding to death, too far gone to hear their Captain's call.

They finally found Gabe's hole. She skidded to the side of it, nearly toppling into it with him before she recoiled in horror.

Gabe looked like a corpse in a grave. Shivering, eyes screwed tight, curled into a ball of denial.

He was alive, but his mind was gone.

Tracinya felt a cool blade of a knife slicing her heart. He looked so lost and broken, gripping his blanket hard like he was trying to convince himself that the Santiago's call was just in his imagination.

She took the part of her that wanted to leave him alone and swallowed it. Welsh needed him. And Gabe would never forgive her for not getting him out of this hole to help him. He'd never forgive himself, either. Tracinya wouldn't live with that, even if right now it broke her heart to force him to his feet.

"Come on, Doc!" she said, holding her hand out to him, hoping that his nickname would snap him to the present.

He didn't even move to uncurl from his ball. It was like he couldn't, or he was still sleeping.

The world was erupting into chaos, the ground was trembling, the noise was deafening: how could he possibly still be sleeping?

"I don't know," she said as Babe gave her a frantically questioning glance.

Babe pushed her out of the way and grabbed Gabe.

Tracinya hit the snow hard, tumbling into Gabe's foxhole as the ground jumped beneath her, another shell going off only yards from them. The shock of the snow and ice stinging her neck covered in only the under-suit wasn't enough to block out what Babe was doing to her friend.

The part of her that knew there was no time to coax him out gently, flinched as her concern reared its head once more.

"Come on, the Captain's yelling," said Babe, grabbing Gabe by the front of his webbing and hauling him upwards.

It seemed to jerk Gabe into a half-lucid state, but he couldn't seem to get his bearings. His feet slipped on the dirt rather than hold him up and he sank back down to the ground.

"Okay," said Gabe placating, grabbing at Babe's arms to support his weight.

He sounded so tired.

She had never heard a man so tired as Gabriel Ospina was at that moment. Not just tired in the body, but tired in the mind and soul.

Kriff.

Tracinya scrambled out of the hole and moved behind Gabe to grab at his shoulders. The angle was bad, and she seemed to be doing more harm than good so she just backed up, squatting down with her hands over her head as a third shell came within yards of her.

"Okay, get up," snapped Babe pulling harder. "Not okay lie down! Okay get up! Come on!" He hauled Gabe to his feet without sympathy, but the man was up. "Move! Jesus Christ!" Babe flung Gabe out of the hole by his waist, again supporting the medic's weight as man stumbled, exhausted, from his hole.

Once he was on his feet, so was Tracinya. She met Gabe's dazed gaze, suppressing her concern once more. She grabbed his sleeve, towing him the right way towards the CP and the still screaming Captain.

Babe stayed behind, something about his hand, but Tracinya didn't have time to worry about him too.

Finally, Gabe seemed to regain his normal urgency, knocking her loose as he regained his footing. She met his burning eyes with marked relief and led the way at a sprint, the medic just behind her.

"Spina!" She could hear Santiago yelling, and Welsh's agonized screaming sharpened as they got closer. The wounded man took a gasping breath, which cut off his scream. There was general cursing as well as she slid beside Mateo at Welsh's head.

She somehow managed to get Welsh's head on her lap and began petting his hair back to calm him down. "It'll be okay, Simon," she said, her voice soft and hopefully soothing as she used the man's given name. "Doc's here. He'll fix you up. You'll be fine."

"Awrgh!" he screamed, still staring at the blood coming from his thigh from under Santiago's hands. "Jesus!"

He might've understood or he might have been reacting to the fear she couldn't suppress, but Welsh caught her hand and squeezed it, releasing some of his pain and tension into her palm as though she were a balm to his misery.

It made her feel sick.

"Gabe," Santiago said once more, softly this time.

Tracinya didn't understand why, so she glanced away from Welsh's searching eyes to find him. It was an image she never thought she'd see.

Gabriel was just standing there, staring at them, not moving to help at all as he slipped back into his shell-shock right when they needed him most.

She felt lost as she saw Gabe's dark eyes and pale face stare blankly at the chaos before him, as though it didn't exist. As though they didn't matter.

More lost than she'd ever felt before.

Something knocked her hands and she grabbed Welsh's palm again without thinking. She swallowed what she could of her emotions, and returned her focus to Welsh. She caught the lieutenant's eyes and held them, willing him to believe that he would be okay. That Gabe was just tired, not too scared that Welsh might die under his hands like so many others to even try to help him.

Something in Santiago tone as the man cajoled the medic into motion must have finally been enough to wake Gabe up.

He snapped into motion.

Tracinya breathed a sigh of relief as Gabe took over the situation, briskly repositioning the tourniquet. Surely, Welsh would be all right now that Gabe had come back to himself.

She couldn't help but turn her attention to her friend again; watching him closely as he fished out the stick he carried around to tighten the strap and cut off the residual blood flow.

"Hey, just a scratch, Harry," Mateo said, joining her coaxing which had muted to all but a whisper as her eyes strayed to Gabe. "You're not getting out of this that easy."

"Jeep's on its way. Hang tough," reassured Santiago.

Welsh shivered with every twist of Gabe's stick as though he were tightening a grip on Welsh's entire body.

Welsh's grip on Tracinya's hand clenched painfully at a particularly sharp turn. She squeezed back and kept running her free fingers through his hair. It was something her mother did for her often as a child. It came instinctually for her now, though she didn't know why.

Somehow, Gabe managed to keep the tourniquet tight and dress the wound at the same time. Welsh screamed as Gabreil swiped at the wound with what was left of her scarf, his head arching up. Each breath was its own sound of agony.

She kept up her stream of chatter, trying to hush the wounded man and keep him from distracting Gabreil from his work as he dusted the wound with more sulfa powder.

Somewhere deep inside she knew she didn't need to bother. Gabehad worked on many a screaming man before, nothing Welsh was likely to do would throw him off. But it made her feel better, so she did it anyway. No one seemed to pay it any mind anyways, except perhaps Welsh.

"I've got morphine in my pocket," Gabriel said to Santiago. "Give it to him."

"Where do you want it?" Santiago asked, retrieving it and quickly removing the protective cap.

"Opposite thigh," Gabe said tightening the bandage, already stained red with blood.

Santiago jabbed it with a bit more force than strictly necessary.

Welsh took a deep breath and sighed, leaning back, limp with relief. Tracinya lowered his head to the ground, slipping out from under him so she could help lift him onto a stretcher when the time came.

"Okay," said Santiago. "Okay."

"Elevate his head," said Gabe. Tracinya helped Mateo pull him up again, scared she'd done something wrong by moving in the first place.

Instead of reprimanding her, Gabe used the blood on his fingers to paint an 'M' on Welsh's pale forehead.

'M' for morphine, Tracinya assumed. They didn't want to give Welsh too much.

'M' painted, Gabriel commanded, "Get him up!"

The three of them, Tracinya, Mateo, and Santiago, worked together to haul Welsh's body to the waiting jeep – which she hadn't even heard arrive. She took care to keep Welsh's head elevated above his torso while Santiago and Mateo carried the bulk of the man's weight until the jeep driver moved to help them load Welsh onto the stretcher.

---

2623 14thAugust Earth Standard Calendar, CPL. Gabriel Ospina, Umbara

Santiago passed off his portion of the weight to the driver saying, "Here soldier, take that," and wandered back to where Gabe was still sitting, staring at the bloodstained snow.

"Gabriel," Santiago said to him softly, panting. "Get yourself into town, get a hot meal."

It shouldn't have been a reprimand, but it was.

Gabriel felt Santiago's disappointment keenly. He sank to the ground for a moment, sagging as the weight of what was expected of him suddenly became too much. His eyes closed, fiercely fighting back tears. He hadn't been here. He'd been sleepwalking instead of helping Lieutenant Welsh. He liked Lieutenant Welsh, and he'd done nothing while the man writhed in pain feet from him.

He'd fallen apart when he should've been putting someone back together.

It was the worst sin he could imagine.

Somehow his feet obeyed the command, and he found himself on the jeep headed back into town.

He didn't look at Tracinya as he passed her. He couldn't bear to see her disappointment as well. He kept his eyes forward and tried to ignore the sticky feeling of blood once more drying on his hands as the jeep thundered towards the town once more.

---

2623 14th August Earth Standard Calendar, CPT. Antonio Santiago, Umbara

Santiago found Tracinya back in the dell.

She was staring at the tacky, brick red blood seeping into the cracks of her hands, and didn't even need to see the tears in her eyes to know that there was something wrong.

He looked at Lt Sparrow, who was watching her with concern. Sparrow had been extraordinarily protective of Vizsla since they'd hit the forest. It was a well-known fact that Vizsla and Saprrow were close. They were buddies. Everybody had buddies in the war, but Vizsla and Sparrow were one of the oddest duos he'd ever seen, especially due to their different personalities. But there was nothing uncommon about their friendship. Everybody had a buddy out here, a deep friendship that couldn't be quantified or explained. Antonio knew his was with Mateo, or perhaps Harry. Just as Sparrow were with Vizsla. And Vizsla were with Sparrow and Gabriel.

He squatted down next to her and threw an arm over her shoulder.

"Hey," he said as she leaned into him – probably subconsciously. "Why don't you join me and Mat tonight?" he offered on a whim.

He didn't know why he offered, but he wasn't going to rescind it now that it had been made. She looked lost, as though she'd absorbed Gabriel's vacancy into herself.

She gave him a lost look and then glanced at Sparrow, who gave her a nod. "Go ahead, Trace," he said, encouraging. "I'll sack out with Sameul or something."

---

25031 Galactic Standard Calendar, Tracinya Vizla, Umbara

Tracinya nodded to accept Santiago's offer and let him guide her into his foxhole, feeling like she was safe.

Once they were both settled against the cold wall, she leaned into the captain's warmth. It was a silly feeling, this notion of safety now that she was with their indestructible captain when Santiago was just as likely to get hit as anyone else, but it comforted her.

She took a deep breath, letting out a sigh, as her thoughts drifted back to Gabe, and all her worry and anxiety returned full force, like a stone settling in her stomach.

She didn't know what she'd do without Luke or Gabe – they had easily clicked when they had met at FOB Frost and he'd now seemed so broken.

She sighed again and it was too much for her beleaguered throat to handle. Her chest burst into coughs that tore at her throat.

She tried to cover her mouth, she didn't want Santiago and Mateo to get sick, but it became harder to smother as the cough wracked her body, sending her into spasms as she tried to drag air into her heaving lungs.

Mateo slid in on the other side of her and threw his own arm over her, pounding on her back, and then smoothing her hair, trying to help her calm down and breathe properly.

She couldn't understand what he was saying over her own coughing, despite the increasing volume. Sound was drowned out completely as her body became increasingly desperate for air.

Her guts ached as each hacking wheeze tried to drag out her stomach lining.

It was too much. She'd coughed her way into dry heaves and threw herself from the hole to vomit.

So much for dinner.

Santiago climbed out after her and pulled her too long hair out of her tearing eyes, his cold fingers seeming to reach into her soul and calm her down while reassuring her that she was not alone. Not right now at least.

After far too long, her rolling stomach settled with a final discontented shudder. She gave a final choking sigh and spit out the last of the bile from her mouth, wiping the spit and snot on her sleeve for lack of a scarf or handkerchief. She dabbed her welling eyes with shaking hands, the tears brought on by helpless gagging.

She let Santiago manhandle her back into the hole and then be tucked under Mateo's arm. She took short ragged breaths as she tried to will her body back under control, each tremor that shook her was a betrayal of her lack of composure. Tears started falling from her eyes without her permission. She wiped them away with a determined sniff, ashamed that she was crying, scared that these men, whom she respected so much, might see her as the weepy female she felt like.

Neither of the men seemed to care. Santiago and Mateo were solid in a way that she wasn't right now. Neither had wavered from their duty once during this whole ordeal whereas she felt so timid. She needed some of that strength.

She missed the concerned looks that Santiago and Mateo shared above her head, but didn't protest when Mateo pulled her under his arm, pinning her there as Santiago moved in on her opposite side, creating a barrier of human warmth between her and the cold.

Mateo's voice startled her as he began to talk. Nonsense at first, like the dream he'd been having before Welsh's fire interrupted it, then moving onto his daughter, probably walking by now, who wouldn't even remember him when he finally made it home. "If I ever make it home," he said wistful.

"My friend," said Tracinya, voice hoarse from coughing and throwing up. She tried to clear it for a moment, only succeeded in aggravating it, and then gave up. "My friend promised me she'd name a daughter after me. So when I die, there will be someone who will remember me."

"You're not gonna die," protested Mateo, aghast that she'd even be having such morbid thoughts.

"Not without a fight," she answered, once again missing the look exchanged above her head due to her closed eyes. This time it was one of relief.

It took less than ten minutes before Tracinya was out cold, exhaustion lining her face as her body attempted to recover through sleep.

---

2623 14th August Earth Standard Calendar, CPT. Antonio Santiago, Umbara

"Did you know she was sick?" asked Antonio. He didn't look at Mateo, didn't raise his voice above a whisper, not wanting to wake her now that she was sleeping.

"No,"

"Think the Doc knows?" He knew full well the state of their medical supplies. If Doc could help any of the poor bastards who were sick, he would've done it by now.

"Probably," Mateo answered. "Doc doesn't miss much. Even now."

Santiago nodded and fell silent. That was certainly true enough.

He hoped Tracinya would be okay. They couldn't afford to lose a good NCO.

---

That night, the Umbarans bombed the whole front. Happy Republic Day.

---

2623 15th August Earth Standard Calendar, Intelligence Officer Mateo, Umbara

An hour before dawn, Lucas wandered into the CP from wherever he'd been hiding. Mateo got up reluctantly after an expectant look, envying Santiago for getting to stay warm in the hole while he had to try talking sense back into this goldbrick. It was his turn to interrogate the man about where the fuck he'd wandered off to. Santiago had done it last time. Hopefully, because Mateo was technically a higher rank than Santiago was, it would stick this time.

He began dressing down Lucas where he'd intercepted him, just beyond the foxhole Tracinya and Santiago were curled up in, and under the Captain's watchful eye, leery about going too far out of sight.

Despite the fact that it was barely past dawn, Tracinya had only just fallen asleep after the latest in a series of coughing fits that had roused all of them throughout the night.

Mateo would never say it out loud, but he was worried for their girl. She didn't look too good.

Santiago obviously agreed or he wouldn't've had her share their foxhole tonight.

The coughing fits worried him exceedingly, but there wasn't much they could do for it out here. The supplies that had been dropped were scarce, and there'd been no penicillin to speak of. If Mateo's information from up the chain was correct, it would also be the last drop they could expect for a while.

In their infinite wisdom, the Allied leadership had decided that bombing the enemy was more important than making sure their soldiers didn't freeze in the middle of eternal darkness and winter.

Mateo didn't think more bombs into Umbara would do a damned bit of good if they had been able to pull this whole counteroffensive out of their ass to catch the whole Allied army with its pants down. If there were factories the bombs could've hit, they would've found them by now.

The crunch of snow alerted Mateo to an incoming man. He paused for breath long enough to identify the silhouette as American before picking right back up where he'd left off with Lucas.

"… I don't know where you are!"

---

2623 15th August Earth Standard Calendar, CPT. Antonio Santiago, Umbara

Antonio turned to watch their medic pass with considerable concern. He'd barely sent Gabriel off to town a few hours ago. That certainly wasn't long enough for the man to recover himself, even if he'd managed to find a hot meal in the middle of the night.

Gabriel shouldn't be back yet.

He must have jostled Vizsla, or maybe she'd somehow attuned herself to Gabriel's footsteps, because when he turned back to check she was still asleep, he saw her eyes following the medic. She shifted to get up and follow him, but Antonio pressed her shoulder down, keeping her seated.

She gave him a look of questioning. "He shouldn't be back yet," she told him, somehow guessing at the time despite having been recently asleep.

He nodded, "I know."

"Something must've happened at base," she said, again trying to get up.

"We'll ask Mateo when he's done," said Antonio. "Go back to sleep, Trace. Doc can take care of himself."

She looked mutinous for a minute. But he wasn't moving on the subject.

The tension he felt in her shoulders loosened. "All right," she conceded, willing to trust him even in this matter. She settled down again. "He looked a little better than earlier, I guess," she said.

"He did," confirmed Antonio, uncertain of the truth of that statement.

---

25032 Galactic Standard Calendar, Tracinya Vizla, Umbara

The next day, General Castro broke through the Umbaran lines along with elements of the 501st legion. He'd come to "rescue" them. Tracinya laughed at the man who'd told her that. She wanted to be nearby when some unfortunate bastard decided to inform Luke, Toye and Guarnere that they'd been "rescued". She could already imagine their indignation, but the live show would doubtlessly be doubly entertaining.

She could admit that her pride was the one talking. Sure they'd been surrounded, and she'd admit that things had looked pretty grim without an aid station – but they were paratroopers, Luke was SPECWAR and she was a Mandalorian. These were the kinds of conditions they'd been trained for, awful weather aside.

They most certainly had not been rescued. They hadn't needed to be rescued. Easy Company would have continued to out stubborn the Umbarans until the they either finally gave up or the war was over, whichever came first.

Now, if they'd been forced to endure the siege conditions around their positions for weeks or months, perhaps they would've needed the rescue, but all told, they'd only been in the village for eight days. Eight miserable days of being constantly on the front lines – something that could only be equated with hell on Umbara – and that was before you factored in the extremities of the weather and their lack of general supplies – but eight days was a paltry number no matter how you sliced it.

Besides, if they'd truly been "rescued" they wouldn't still be out here freezing to death at the new spearhead of the Allied advance. "Rescue" implied helplessness, hence the hilarity. No one in Easy Company was helpless in the slightest – well, except perhaps a couple of their more incompetent officers.

She also heard the word "relieved" being bandied about, but apart from breaking through the lines and getting their wounded out, there was no discernible change to Easy Company's situation. They were still out in front – spearheading the push back into Umbara with Castro's tanks making them an even bigger target to the Umbarans than before. There was no relief to be had.

All that aside, there was one bonus that came with Castro: supplies. The single drop the Air Force had managed came with mixed effects. The majority of the supplies they'd actually needed had missed them completely and landed with the Umbarans.

Tracinya and Luke sat perched on the edge of his foxhole. They each had a box of MG ammunition. The long strands of cartridges had arrived en masse with Castro, but as usual, several – if not most – of the bullets were bent or covered in dirt and grease. If they got fed through the gun they would jam and cause all manner of trouble. She'd drafted Luke's help and got to work yanking the defective shells from the chain. It surprised her that the O.A.G. still used some slug-thrower weaponry even if they could fire both bullets and plasma.

Tracinya couldn't help but think back on the last few days as she examined a particularly defective bullet. She hadn't wanted to admit it, not even to herself, but things had been pretty dire.

At one point, they'd been so short that they'd had to redistribute the ammo so each man had only a single mag for their guns. Food and water had been a constant battle – no one talked about the poor kid's brains that were in the only running stream they could get to. Their limited amount of medical supplies was a joke that just wasn't funny – sheets shredded at the hospital in the village were used as bandages when they didn't have enough. And then even that small measure of security was blown away during the Umbaran bombing on Republic Day which was celebrated by the defenders for the sake of morale.

She tossed a defective bullet into the shit pile and ran her fingers over the next section of the chain – feeling for defects rather than trying to see them. She ignored how the metal bit into her fingertips as she swept them along the shells.

She darted a look at Luke as he shivered violently, grinding his teeth to keep them from chattering. He put on a brave face, probably his pride keeping him from showing weakness in front of her, but she could see the tremors of cold in his fingers. They'd been promised better winter gear, but it hadn't come.

At least Castro had brought plenty of ammo, and they had enough food for three meals a day again – well at least for a while. He'd also brought about almost a complete reshuffle of most of Easy Company.

The new faces and mostly full boxes of ammunition reminded her how much better things seemed right now. Sure they were still entrenched in the same positions around the Village, but they had some major improvements, equipment and supplies aside. They had an actual aid station again, furnished with surgeons and nurses for their wounded. And heavy gun support once more.

Tracinya's original squad had faired pretty well through the siege, all things considered, but her guys had ended up scattered amongst other platoons and squads to help watch the replacements. She was sorry to lose Samuel, who'd been with her since her arrival on Umbara, but she trusted Diego to look after him. Andres had been transferred under Pedro into the mortars squad, which seemed a good fit for the moment.

She'd managed to hold on to Luke though, which was a relief. He'd was still a good unshakable soldier, steady and reliable. She was glad to still have him with her. Two boxes, an ever-growing pile of rejected, defective bullets, and an easy silence at the edge of a foxhole.

She scrubbed a hand over her eyes, trying to keep the headache that had been brewing there for the last few days from overwhelming her.

The sound of snow crunching under boots had her glancing over her shoulder. She recognized the walk immediately but was surprised all the same. It wasn't often that Mateo left the CP for non-official business, which his demeanour belied as he amiably made his way towards them, hands in his pockets and a grin on his face.

"Trace," he said, smiling down at her.

"Cap – Mateo," she said, remembering that he'd asked her to call him 'Mat' from now at the twist of his eyebrows. She didn't know what his retribution would be if she forgot again. She was sure it would be scathing.

He gave her a look anyway – not fooled – and registered what they were actually doing. "Enjoying the new supplies?" he asked with a smirk as he crouched down beside her.

She huffed a laugh. Mateo was certainly good at pointing out the obvious. "What bits of it are good," said she, holding up a bullet bent nearly in half for his perusal. She chucked the dud into the growing pile of them on the foxhole's floor with an exasperated sigh. "At this rate, we'll have more faulty bullets than working ones to pass out."

He made a sound of agreement and repositioned himself. Eve disregarded the suspect look he was sending over her head at Jackson. A covert glance showed her that the private was studiously focused on his task, as though acknowledging Mateo would invite the man's ire.

Mateo, Tracinya thought, trying to drill the change into her own head. I said I'd call him Mateo from now on.

Tracinya could practically hear the gears turning in Mateo's head but waited for him to say something first.

"I'm borrowing Sparrow for a while," he informed her. When she raised an eyebrow, he turned his sharp grin onto Luke. "Santiago needs a runner."

Luke looked up, wide eyed. Tracinya raised her eyebrow at him, confused. This wasn't normal behaviour either. Is he actually scared? Of Mateo? Certainly not. Mateo's harmless.

She looked him over again. Maybe he's feeling sick too?

"Take him," she said, with a careless wave of her hand. "Just don't let Santiago break him?" she teased.

She registered both Mateo's predatory smirk and Luke's unmoved face with practiced ease and a firm bite to her cheek, turning nonchalantly back to sorting.

There was a moment of silence that stretched too long. She looked back up covertly with her peripheral vision.

Luke was looking between her and Mateo, probably wondering if they were teasing him. Which they were, but he certainly didn't have to know that.

"What?" Luke asked as though he had awoken from a daze.

"Santiago wants you."

"Right, yeah. I'll be off then". Luke said jumping off the crate he was seated on and headed off followed by Mateo.

Tracinya bit her lip until he was out of sight, fighting to stay straight-faced to keep from embarrassing the guy. She made the mistake of glancing over at Mateo and burst into laughter at the very smug look on his face.

He did that on purpose!

Her laughter must've been infectious because as soon as she lost it, he did too.

They laughed until she started coughing and even then she couldn't manage to stop, giggling between each hacking cough and gasping breath.

The fit took some time to die down, despite Mateo's hand rubbing circles into her back. When it did, she finally noticed the concern in his dark eyes and – desperate to get back to the light-hearted atmosphere – she snarked, voice a little hoarse, "Thanks for asking to borrow Luke. I really appreciate being the last to know where my friends and guys and friends are being assigned."

"Well, I wouldn't want to be rude," he drawled.

"Right," said Tracinya, smiling again. "You're a captain now, it would be unfitting."

"I was beginning to think these captain bars were invisible," he said, his own smile tugging the corners of his mouth up as he lowered himself onto the edge of the foxhole and picked up Luke's abandoned box.

It wasn't every officer who'd sit down and do a private's job.

Tracinya was suddenly reminded that this man hadn't always been an intelligence officer. He'd been one of the original lieutenants of Easy Company. It's easy to forget that Mateo survived Malastare too.

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. He tries to hide it with his sarcasm, his stoicism, and his pessimism, but he's a good guy. Thinking with a clearer head, she realised that Luke probably was having an episode, where he remembered what he had endured.

"Only to those of us who know you," she said absently, trying to shake off the sudden and irrational longing for home, where death wasn't lurking at every turn and there was a hot meal and a shower for everyone at the end of the day.

"Nice of Castro to bring supplies," snarked Mateo as they worked, tossing yet another bullet into the pile to accentuate his point.

"Yeah," she agreed. They were shit supplies. And then her mind drifted back to the replacements who made up the majority of her squad and she sighed.

"What's up?" he said, sensing that her thoughts had taken a darker turn as her actions turned listless.

"Hm?" She pulled herself from her melancholy. She met his assessing stare and tried deflecting. "It's nothing."

Mateo shot her a look.

Tracinya caved. "I could've gone without the squad shuffling. I know my guys are in good hands, but…" She scrubbed at her brow again, frustration adding a layer to her headache. "I'm just worried about everybody, I guess."

"Caring about your guys isn't something to be ashamed of, Trace," said Mateo. He gave her shoulder a bump, hands still full of bullets. "It means you're a good sergeant."

She smiled at him gratefully. Being in charge of people's lives in war was one way to shake your confidence.

And she trusted that Mateo actually meant what he said. He'd never be Santiago, whose mere presence boosted moral, but he'd definitely made her feel a lot better.

Tracinya was nearing the bottom of her box when Mateo spoke again. They'd been working in silence for the last few minutes, the steady 'cling-ping' of bullets joining the dud pile the only disturbance in the snow muted forest.

"How's Doc Spina?" asked Mateo, startling Tracinya enough that her toss went wide of the pile.

His tone had been uncaring, nonchalant, and her first instinct was to give him a non-answer. She'd even opened her mouth to say it when he pinned her in place with his stare.

She swallowed against the power in that gaze and remembered suddenly that he'd been there when Welsh had been hit on Republic Day. He'd seen Gabe freeze when it was critical that he act, that he save Mateo's friend.

She owed him an honest answer.

She slid down to retrieve the stray bullet and gather her thoughts. He gave her the time, studiously attending to his sorting.

"He's better," she said truthfully, weighing each word. "Especially now that we've been resupplied. I think something happened to him in the village after Smokey got paralyzed. He won't talk to me about it, but then I don't think I want to know either, so I haven't asked. But lately," she shrugged and retook her seat. "I don't know. It's like he's back to normal."

There was a lot that Tracinya chose not to say despite the truths weighing on her tongue. She was ashamed she hadn't recognized the signs, hadn't realized Gabe was not okay until he was incapable of doing his job.

Gabe was her friend. She should have noticed.

And she was a sergeant. She should have brought her concerns about Doc, about his dedication to the men exceeding his own wellbeing, to somebody. Mateo would have understood, would've given Gabe a break. He might've been able to help Gabe before he'd frozen, get him a break off the line for a bit. It was her job to look after all of the men, not just the ones in her squad. She'd failed at her job when she'd failed her friend.

It could never happen again.

---

2623 17th August Earth Standard Calendar, Intelligence Officer Mateo, Umbara

Mateo accepted Tracinya's answer with a relieved nod. They'd gotten lucky with the medics in Easy Company. Both Spina and Cortez did their jobs well, and yet Mateo knew which of the two he wanted to work on him if he ever got hit.

Spina won by a mile.

Nothing against Cortez; he was more than competent, but he just didn't have the same calming influence that Spina did.

If Mateo had been a particularly religious man, he might've called Spina an angel. When he was around, even if he was just sitting there, somehow Mateo felt better. Perhaps it was Mateo's faith or uncommonly level-headed nature that made him so respected by the men around him.

Or maybe it was because Spina always looked so damn miserable. He always seemed to be having the worst day ever. Granted, if Mateo ever had to pull his friend's insides back into his body, well, he'd be having a bad fucking day too.

Whatever it was, Mateo knew that losing Gabe might spell disaster for the whole company.

Seeing Gabe, who was so vitally important, freeze when Welsh needed him had been one hell of a wakeup call.

Still, Tracinya had gotten closer to him than anyone else, and if she said he was fine, then he'd take her word for it.

Another wracking cough shook through Tracinya, pulling Mateo free from his thoughts to refocus his attention back on her. Her first coughing fit tonight might've been a fluke but two meant that she was probably still ill.

He knew a lot of the guys either were or had been sick, but he hadn't known Tracinya was still fighting off her cough. Most of the guys got over their coughs within a few days, with a couple exceptions. Without asking permission, knowing she was too busy to protest while she was hacking up a lung, he put the back of his hand on the back of her forehead.

Her forehead burnt his frigid fingers. Still, even after his hands had acclimated, he could tell that she was way too hot for normal. She was definitely sick.

Fuck.

And she was still coughing without sign of stopping anytime soon.

Jesus Christ.

Mateo could count on one hand the people more important than Sergeant Vizsla for keeping Easy Company strong and their moral high. If she really was sick and not getting better, then it needed to be addressed.

Spina, when Mateo had pressed him this morning had confessed that Castro's medics were being stingy with their supplies, particularly with the hard to get stuff like penicillin and plasma.

At a loss, Mateo started pounding her on the back as Tracinya hacked up phlegm, grimacing at the tears dripping from her clenched eyelashes. He didn't stop until she waved him off, the dreadful retching sound masquerading as a cough finally dying down.

They had so few real leaders left that losing Tracinya to illness was an unacceptable casualty. By no means were they out of the woods yet. And all the reports he'd been taking and receiving indicated that taking Foy – when they were inevitably ordered to do so – would be one hell of a hurdle. He didn't want to consider what it would be like if they had to send Tracinya off the line before the attack.

"How long have you been sick?" he asked as she was catching her breath.

She was panting now, quick, shallow breaths to keep from coughing again, so it took her a while to answer.

"A while," she finally answered. "Spina ran out of penicillin back during planetfall, so it didn't really seem worth mentioning. I thought it would just go away –"

"But it hasn't," Mateo finished for her.

"Yes," agreed Tracinya. She went back to her sorting without further comment, keeping her hands busy. "But neither has Babe's. Or McClung's. Or any number of the other guys'."

Mateo did the same, turning over the problem in his mind.

They'd been without supplies for far too long for the ridiculous posturing that was rampant between the Third Armoured and the defenders. For some reason, the tankers seemed to think that the paratroopers should be grateful that they were no longer surrounded.

Paratroopers were designed to be surrounded. They weren't designed to go into a fight without equipment.

Now that General Castro was here, Mateo had been under the understanding that the man was sharing what supplies he had to go around, which would've been fine as a stopgap for better supplies to come in. The problem was: supply runs weren't exactly high on the Allies priority list. As far as Mateo knew, there wasn't another drop planned at all. The starship had been bypassing them to blast the shit out of Umbaran cities with carpet bombs.

The point was that Castro's bunch needed to share what they had in the meantime. Ammunition, they had plenty of, but they were in dire need of better winter clothing and other basic necessities to survive the rest of this winter, especially medical supplies and food rations.

When his fingers hit the empty bottom of the box, he got up, ignoring the way Tracinya gave a shallow cough into her sleeve. He figured she had crud in her throat but didn't want to risk the deeper coughs he'd seen by trying to force it out.

Resolved, Mateo dusted off his pants and said, "Well, I should get back to the CP. See you soon, okay Trace?"

He had a stingy Third Armoured supply officer to ream.

---

25032 Galactic Standard Calendar, Tracinya Vizla, Umbara

Tracinya watched Mateo wander away with bemusement. She didn't really mind his abrupt departure. She'd embarrassed herself coughing enough for one encounter, thanks very much. Besides, Mateo was a very busy man. She hoped he'd lay off Luke, but doubted it.

She finished her box and went to give the box of sorted bullets over to the MG squad on duty in the OP.

"Thanks, Sarge," said Babe.

"You boys doing all right out here?" she asked.

"So far, so good, ma'am," said Babe.

"Good. I'll see you boys later."

Mission accomplished, she decided to find dinner. On her way to the mess tent, Vest waylaid her with a literal armload of mail. She'd tucked the obscene amount of paper into her waist pocket, wondering when she'd possibly have time to read it all.

She and the other NCOs were still being utilized to pick up the slack from Dike, and the replacements – who now that they were moving more often still couldn't tell a foxhole from a slit trench – just meant extra work, especially since most of them didn't seem to have enough common sense to stop incessantly cleaning their guns so they could get fucking warm.

She was trying to find Guarnere or Diego to get something to do, when Luke – of all people – found her.

"Tracinya? Captain Santiago needs you in the CP," he said.

"Lead the way," she said, dropping all preteens of trying to find Guarnere and Diego. Santiago would have found her himself if it wasn't urgent. Busywork could wait.

They walked together to the CP as quickly as possible in the dense snow. As Luke was not a particularly talkative individual, it was a quiet walk. They'd been working together long enough that the quiet wasn't uncomfortable though, so she wasn't complaining.

He also didn't seem to have any hard feelings about her ribbing him with Mateo.

When they walked into the CP, Santiago met them at the door much to her surprise.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," he said, dismissing Luke. Santiago waited until Luke had wandered away, making sure the kid wouldn't be eavesdropping before he said, "This way, Sergeant."

He led her deeper into the CP for more privacy – what privacy a room without walls, or doors, or a tarp for a ceiling could offer anyway.

Her curiosity was piqued. A quick scan revealed that Mateo wasn't present. She gave it a passing thought and then refocused on Santiago, who had a strange, almost worried look on his face. She couldn't exactly place the other emotion on his face, and the unknown twisted a knot of fear in her gut.

She had a bad feeling about this.

"Sir?" she questioned when they were ensconced in the meagre amount of privacy they could manage.

"I know this last week and a bit has been rough on you. What with that cough and with Doc. SO I just wanted to check up on you to see how you're holding up and hand over your mail."

"Thanks for the concern but I'm fine now, Sir."

"Good hear. As you were" Santiago said as he handed her an envelop.

---

Our dearest daughter,

How are you, our dear?

You will be pleased to know that the local press has taken a decided turn now that your exploits in the war are coming to light. Our daughter, the war hero: who would've thought? We expected great things but what you have managed so far has made us both proud. Your father refuses to admit it but he is certainly worried about you. We both are. Your father got a new job at the Ministry of Defence as a liaison between O.A.D.F. and Mandalorian Forces, he starts next week.

The Local paper has turned you into a local icon. All the kids now run around pretending to be you, shooting the bad guys, saving the day, being heroes. To be like you. They run around with toys or pretend guns shooting invisible bad guys. Its quite entertaining to watch. Your father likes to point out the flaws in their positions, movements and formations. We all await news of what you'll do next.

Just know that we are proud of the Mandalorian you are and are becoming.

Your ever Loving Parents

---

Once she'd finished reading and re-reading the letter she needed a break. She tucked the letter away, not really knowing what to think after such a vast and varied number of opinions. It took only a moment before she'd decided to go check on Gabe.

It didn't take her long to find him. The medic was loitering near the mess tent, sitting a little way away from everyone as what his usual pattern and smelling the remains of his chocolate bar from the nurse again. She crouched near him and watched. It took him longer than normal to notice her pleading gaze, but only by a moment or two.

He gave her an arched look, but she won a smile - which had been her real goal, more so than the chocolate at least. She certainly wasn't trying to be subtle whatsoever with her begging.

He broke off a piece of the bar and gave it to her. Tracinya nibbled on it contently, savouring it, trying to make the morsel last as long as possible. Even this small bite of chocolate was a very precious gift after all.

Mid bite, she started coughing again, ruining the entire experience. She tried to make each cough count, each heave reaching deep into her chest to pull out the crap that she'd been spitting up so that the aches she was feeling, particularly in her abdomen were worth it, that they'd been accomplishing something other than her own misery.

Gabe brought a hand up to her forehead and checked it. His fingers felt like icicles and she could tell that she was overheated, and yet, his touch seemed to radiate peace through her, easing the tightness in her chest and allowing her to breathe easy. It was such a relief after coughing, and she suddenly realized just how tight her chest had been feeling now that it had passed.

"You feel a little warm," he said. "Let me see if I can get you another blanket, or a warm cup of coffee." He was up and moving before she could persuade him not to bother. She watched him with exasperation before getting up and finding somewhere else to be.

She would never admit it, but she might be trying to hide from Gabe.

She didn't want to take someone's blanket!

So, she picked the first group of guys she came across to join – not her best strategy, but sometimes hiding in plain sight was the best policy.

"Hey, Malark," said Tracinya, sliding into the hole he was in with Perconte and Pedro. Malarkey was another Staff Sergeant in her platoon, and she needed to keep up with him anyway, she told herself, to make that feeling that tasted like cowardice go away. "Got anything for me?"

"Not a thing, Trace," he said with a smile. She grinned back falling into the easy camaraderie she hadn't even realized she'd been missing.

She had always liked Malarkey. She still remembered the kid who wouldn't shut up on planetfall. And after some time in combat, he'd gotten better about noise discipline, but he'd still kept his eager, generally upbeat demeanour.

She immediately decided that she needed to check in with him more often. She could use some cheering up after tough days. Today was shaping into one. After this, she'd better check in with the other Sergeants, and then she'd need to report to Lt. Dike, if she could even find him.

The idea of looking for him was already giving her another headache.

"How are your new guys? Anyone giving you trouble?" she asked, thinking not just of the replacements, but also Alley who fell under Malark right now.

"Nah, though it always amazes me how many of these kids have never even fucking shaved," he said drawing a laugh from Pedro.

She eyed his growing beard and kept her comment to herself, though she couldn't help the wry twist to her lips. His grin, which now split his face, let her know that held back or not, he'd heard her comment all the same.

She turned to the two radio guys. She hadn't seen much of either of them in quite a while. Perconte had his toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, scrubbing his back molars like they were falling out.

"Still brushing your teeth, Perco?" she said, teasing and yet slightly incredulous. "Do you even have any cleaning powder left?"

"Nah," he said, smiling, "that's long gone. You got any to trade?"

Her head shook, half an answer for him, half exasperation that he'd even bother asking. Huffing a quiet laugh, she turned back to Malarkey. "Have you seen Toye?"

"He got pinged," said Malark.

"What? When?" she demanded, staring at him in shock. How did I miss that?

Fuck.

Toye was that guy, the one you never thought would ever get hit. He was that guy who was going to make it to the end of this thing out of sheer obstinacy. She wondered if he'd ever scared a few bullets out of hitting him. It was inconceivable that he'd been taken out with so little fanfare. Surely if he ever did bite the bullet, it would be in a blaze of glory with thirty dead Umbarans around him. He was a good enough soldier to make it happen.

"-In the arm," continued Malark. He tried to reassure her. "Combat patrol this afternoon. He should be fine."

"Fuck, don't do that to me, Malark!" She punched him in the arm hard, much to Pedro's and Perco's amusement if their cacophonous laughter was any indication.

"Christ!" he said rubbing the arm. "I thought you'd heard!"

"If I'd heard, I wouldn't've asked," she replied with a frown.

She shoved her concern for Toye to the back of her mind as she did when any of her friends were wounded. If Malark said he'd be fine, he would be. He'd probably find his way back to the line soon enough. Toye wasn't the kind of guy to follow doctor advice to take it easy while his buddies were out on the line.

"How's the Doc?" asked Pedro after a time.

She shot Pedro a look. He should know better than to ask because as a rule Tracinya didn't talk about other people's business. Gaberiel was looking better, but word had gotten around about him freezing up on Republic Day, and if anyone would know how he was doing, it was her. That didn't make being the messenger any easier.

But she also knew the radio man was the key to reassuring the rest of the unit, so she relented and answered anyway. "He's doing better. It's been really hard on him not having enough supplies," she said diplomatically.

"We got that now, thanks to those Third Army fuckers," Perco grumbled around his toothbrush.

"Yeah. Good thing too. We're moving back to overlook Foy soon."

"What, again?" whined Perco.

They'd been overlooking Foy since Third Army came up to support them around the Village. It was the next key position to forcing the Umbaran retreat and would finish the total encirclement of the Umbaran capital.

"Why don't we just go take the fucking town rather than sit on our asses watching it?" Malark complained.

"Because we're being ordered to watch it," said Tracinya. "We don't know how many Umbarans are in the town, much less the forest around it. I'd personally like to be sure we're ready to go up against armour before we barge in.

"You know the drill; we take the woods before the town so the Umbarans in the woods don't sneak up behind us. They could flank us or run off back to Dooku. Neither would be fun."

"All right, smartass," quipped Pedro. Though he honestly enjoyed listening to Tracinya explain combat tactics, he didn't appreciate her spelling it out for him like he was an idiot. "Answer me this-"

Whatever he was about to say was cut off by Lieutenant Lucas wandering by their foxhole asking: "Anyone seen Lieutenant Dike?" with the air of someone who expected the negative answer he was about to receive.

"No, sir," said Tracinya formally. She hadn't forgotten how Lucas had abandoned them on the patrol where they'd hit the Umbaran lines. She probably never would. The only thing she could do about it though was bury her feelings under professionalism, so she was going to murder Lieutenant Lucas with kindness.

"Try Battalion CP, sir," suggested Pedro.

A tickle started in the back of her throat. She was coughing hard by the time Lucas turned away.

"Whoa," said Perco reaching up to brace her as she doubled over.

It was only a minute before she regained herself and heaved up the gob of crud that had set her off. She spat it into the ground just beyond the hole, and waved the fretting men off. "I'm fine."

"You don't sound fine," said Malarkey, eyeing her like she was going to keel over right then.

"Well, I'm as fine as I'm going to get in the next ten minutes, so stop your mollycoddling Malark!" she said a little sharply.

She already had both Gabriel and Mateo breathing down her neck today about being sick. She would never have a moment of peace if it got out to the other guys. She didn't even want to think about what would happen if Guarnere got wind of it. His bedside manner was bound to be as atrocious as his sense of humour. If it happened to anyone else it would've been hysterical, but when it was happening to her, well, it was a horrifying thought.

"See if I worry about you anymore," Malark said, aiming for amusement but landing somewhere closer to genuine hurt.

She winced, sighed heavily, and forced down a second cough with sheer will. "It's really nothing," she reassured, trying to smooth his ruffled feathers.

"Well, why don't you take your nothing over to Doc?" said Pedro. "Maybe there's something he can give you. Did Patton bring any penicillin?"

"If he did, he's not sharing," she said. "Besides, Andres's far worse off than me. I'll just go see if I can find someone who's managed to hoard coffee and beg some off them."

She pulled herself out of the hole and escaped before Perconte could get in on scolding her too. Gabe had enough to worry about, and if those other things kept him from fussing over her for a while longer, well, she welcomed them.

She ended up in a hole with Skip and Edwardo next. How, she wasn't quite sure, but there it was. All carefully laid plans of finishing her patrol were put on hold because when Skip and Edwardo decided to do something, they were a force of nature. And they wanted her to stick with them for a while.

Embarrassingly, it only took Gabe fifteen minutes to find her. She stared at him balefully and wondered how he managed to find her so quickly. She eyed the gossips she was sharing a hole with and decided it was better not to ask.

Gabe ignored her pouting and she could see the smile in his eyes as he tucked the blanket he'd retrieved around her.

He didn't leave after giving her the blanket. Instead, he produced coffee from seemingly thin air and demanded she take it. He sat there, carefully watching her drink the almost warm beverage and stoutly refusing to let her try and foist it off on him or either of her foxhole buddies. She complied, albeit mutinously. She didn't need to be mollycoddled, not even by Gabe.

Her rebellious nature seemed to amuse him though. He'd be really worried when she put up with his taking care of her without a fuss.

Gabe collected the mug from her with a smile that bordered on smug and went to return it to whomever he'd got the coffee from.

Tracinya tried to get up and back to her hole – empty now that Luke was acting as Santiago's runner as comms were down – but Skip and Edwardo refused to let her leave, pulling her back to sit between them and telling ridiculous stories from their childhood until she fell asleep still trying to feign boredom.

She ignored the concerned looks they shared whenever she coughed.

---

Three days later after the shelling that took Carlos and Penkala, Fernanda seemed to be everywhere at once. She constantly moved through the line, chatting with one person, smiling and joking with the next. She was a First Sergeant, which meant she looked after the entire company, and she took the job very seriously.

It wasn't long before Tracinya started thinking of the tireless First Sergeant as "Mama Ann" – privately, because she knew they'd both be teased mercilessly if the nickname got out – but the affectionate moniker suited her well; the woman endlessly pestered everyone about food, warmth, and shelter, looking after them like a mother duck with errant ducklings. She very much appreciated her for it, and it was all well and good when she was coaxing someone else, but when it was Tracinya turn, she found somewhere else to be.

Fernanda could be worse than Gabriel when she put her mind to worrying about her cough – never mind that the woman was starting to cough himself when he thought no one was looking.

But she was always there, always present, constantly reassuring the men that they'd pull through.

Tracinya did her best to emulate her as she took over Second Platoon, she was the most senior sergeant left, just edging Malarkey out of the job. Malarkey had been hit hard in the last week, several of the casualties were men he'd counted among his closest friends and he was taking it hard. She swallowed her own grief and tried to hold her tattered Platoon together.

They'd been hit hard in the barrages and spirits were low in the wake of their losses. Guarnere and Toye were irreplaceable, but she tried her best.

In the wake of her own overwhelming pain, it might have been easy to overlook how hard losing two capable sergeants and their last capable platoon leader was hitting the rest of Easy Company, but a quick glance around camp proved that general morale was at an all time low. It had been a rough two week for all of them, not just Second.

Tracinya made it her goal to get as many people smiling as possible, exchanging jokes and pleasantries with people she hadn't had much cause for talking to before, making sure everyone was keeping their head above water. Some of the guys, noticeably the replacements, started joking back.

If she had any quietly lingering doubts about whether or not the replacements were still bitter about her gender, they were eradicated in the hours after the barrage that took Toye and Guarnere. Each and every replacement she'd ever heard even the slightest rumour that they didn't care for her, came up to her personally and let her know that they appreciated that she was still out here with them. They finally understood that Tracinya was just like any other platoon sergeant, trying to do her best by them, and she could see in every smile she evoked that they were glad she was here. It seemed the Orionians, the greenhorns at least, didn't trust outsider leadership. Then again, she doubted Mandalorians or any other self-respecting military that fought alongside new met allies wouldn't have doubts.

The more she got to know the men, her men now, the tighter the knot of dread in her gut wound.

They were going to attack Foy soon. They'd finished clearing the woods of Umbarans and just seemed to be waiting for the okay from on high before they pressed their attack on the town itself. It amazed her how close they had all become in the last two weeks, but then again, they had been stuck together in horrendous conditions so them pulling together was inevitable.

If she was certain of anything, it was this: if Dike or Lucas led them into action, they would going to get them all killed.

The anxiety built and built with each passing hour, with each man she spoke to and got to know a little better, until it was choking her.

She had to say something. But to whom?

She couldn't go to Santiago, he was too far up the ladder from her and Second Platoon hadn't been assigned a new Lieutenant yet to act as an intermediary; not that she would trust a new officer with her fears even if there was someone – she might've been able to speak to Luke, Luke would've understood, but he was gone.

With no other options, despite being loath to burden him with more troubles, she sought out the only person left who could say something without a major breach of protocol.

"First Sergeant Fernanda?" she called, back straight, tone firm. She hoped the First Sergeant would pick up on these nonverbal cues and realize that she wanted to talk to her professionally and not as a friend. "May I have a word in private?"

Fernanda's keen eyes searched her over before nodding. In silence, she led her away from the prying ears on the line, waiting until they were a few hundred yards away from where ever present eavesdroppers might be lurking. Fernanda surveyed the area before shoving her hands into her armpits once more and addressing her, "What's up, Vizsla?"

"Ma'am," she gnawed on her bottom lip as she searched for the words. Now that the time was here, she couldn't think of a way to appropriately phrase her fears without coming across as insubordinate.

---

2623 23rd August Earth Standard Calendar, SGT Fernanda, Umbara

Fernanda watched Tracinya Vizsla as she shifted before him.

It had been so long since she'd seen her nervous, she'd almost forgotten she was capable of the emotion.

Tracinya had always been level-headed. She'd taken up the position of Platoon Sergeant with more grace than she'd anticipated after losing two of her best friends. Fernanda had known for a while that she was an effective leader, but she'd flourished with the whole platoon to look after. She felt privileged to be amongst the few whom she considered her friends.

If she was afraid to say something to her, well, Fernanda was preparing herself for a catastrophe, or perhaps a riot.

"It's all right, Trace," she said gently, praying she was wrong. "You can tell me."

She saw her spine straighten and braced himself.

"We're leading the attack into Foy tomorrow, sir, and we have no leader. Lt. Dike is going to get my men killed."

Fernanda breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God. It's not good, but it could've been much worse.

"Trace, there's nothing we can do," she said.

Dike was at least ground she was familiar with, and while their current leader wasn't something she could control, it wasn't exactly a new concern. She'd been worrying about Dike for months. Still, it isn't like Tracinya to question command.

But if Tracinya, who was notorious for never complaining about superior officers, was outright stating her concern, maybe she should trust her gut and speak up.

If she thinks there's a problem too, then this is bigger than I thought.

"I know that, Ma'am, but," she paused. "Please, at least speak to Captain Santiago so he can have some sort of contingency in place when Dike falls apart in the field."

It probably wouldn't change anything, or do any good, but it would make her feel better. And it might give Santiago a chance to prepare for the worst – though if Fernanda knew the Captain, Santiago was already doing just that.

Still…

"I'll talk to Santiago." Fernanda agreed, watching the woman sag with relief.

"Thank you, Ann," she breathed.

"It'll be all right, Trace," she reassured, clapping her on the shoulder on the shoulder. "You'll see." She looked into her eyes until she nodded. "Why don't you go make sure your men are dug in with cover?"

"You got it, Ma'am," she said with a small smile and left him alone.

Once he was sure she was alone, Fernanda sighed, feeling the heavy weight of responsibility settle onto her shoulders.

She squared her shoulders, steeling herself as she prepared to do something that, as a First Sergeant, she never thought she would do.

---

2623 23rd August Earth Standard Calendar, CPT Antonio Santiago, Umbara

Santiago was working on the battle plan with Mateo, just calling in the KIA from the last barrage to command and looking over the maps one last time before initiating the assault on Foy.

"Captain Santiago, sir, can I speak with you for a moment?"

"Ah, Lieutenant Dike," said Santiago, surprised to see the usually elusive man. "How are things with the men?"

"Easy Company is ready, sir," the Lieutenant said confidently.

Santiago took a moment to scrutinize the man before him. Dike looked every inch the competent military man, from the way he kept himself neatly groomed, to his steadfast bearing as he stood at attention before them. The Lieutenant always filled his voice with confidence and authority, and his verbal articulacy certainly gave off a good impression. Now, if Santiago could just get the man to stay in camp.

"Good," said Santiago. "What can I do for you, Lieutenant?"

"Permission to speak freely, sir?" Dike asked.

"Granted," said Santiago, sharing an amused glance with Mateo, who moved away to the other end of the CP to offer them a little privacy.

"I noticed that you promoted Sergeant Vizsla to Platoon Sergeant for Second Platoon."

"I did," answered Santiago.

Typically that job would have been up to the Company CO to assign, but Dike had let the matter sit for more than a day and SAntiago had needed Second to run a patrol this morning. After taking stock of the situation in Second, Vizsla had seemed like the obvious choice for their remaining time on Umbara.

"Sir," said Dike, forging ahead unaware of Santiago thoughts. "Are you sure she's qualified for the position? She only recently became a Staff Sergeant. It looks odd for a Mandalorian to advance when there are more senior Orionians able to take the position instead."

Santiago scrutinized the man, hiding his incredulity behind a mask of ice.

Just because he wasn't directly leading Easy anymore didn't make him blind. Dike's solution to dealing with Vizsla in combat was simply to ignore her. It hadn't been too big a deal with both Compton and Guarnere acting as a buffer between him and the woman, but now that they'd both been sent to the aid station, unlikely to return, and she'd been promoted, Dike couldn't ignore her any longer.

The man's solution was apparently to remove her from the chain of command altogether, not seeing how well she was already doing in the position or perhaps not caring.

She was the only obvious choice and Dike didn't like it because she was a Mandalorian and not from Earth or her colonies.

He wanted to strip her of a position she'd rightfully earned because he couldn't see past her homeworld.

It wasn't going to happen on Santiago watch.

"Sergeant Vizsla is the most qualified person in Second Platoon for the position at this time," Santiago said coldly. "She has my full confidence that she is capable of handling the job of Platoon Sergeant."

"What about Sergeant Malarkey?" persisted Dike, offering up a tenuous solution at best. Anyone with eyes could see that Sergeant Malarkey was a wreck after losing his friends. "Or transferring one of the more experienced sergeants over from another Platoon?"

"Sergeant Vizsla has seniority over Sergeant Malarkey," Santiago overruled. "And the other platoons need their sergeants where they are. Vizsla knows the men in Second. My decision stands. Sergeant Vizsla is just as capable as any of the other sergeants out here, Lieutenant, and you will treat her as such. Am I understood, Lieutenant?" Santiago asked sternly.

"Yes, sir," said Dike, meekly backing down.

Santiago hoped that would be the end of that.

"Is there anything else?" asked Santiago.

"No, sir."

"Good, then see to your men. Distribute whatever ammunition we have left evenly amongst the platoons. First Sergeant Fernanda will be leading Second in the attack tomorrow. I want to meet with you to go over the strategy again before the attack starts at 0900."

"Yes, sir," said Dike with a salute.

Santiago gave him one back, and said, "Dismissed."

Mateo came over as soon as the man had gone out of earshot, eyebrow already raised in sardonic amusement. "Well that went well. I don't think there'll be any more of that for a while," he said.

"Let's hope so," said Santiago. "I don't like it, Mateo."

"Neither do I," his friend agreed. "But there's nothing you can do, Ant. You're not in charge of Easy anymore. Trace'll just have to change his mind the way she did everyone else's."

"Yeah," said Santiago pensively remembering how Tracinya had turned a man who'd nearly broken her shoulder, a man who'd stirred up animosities towards her, and a man who'd hated her on sight into three of her most steadfast protectors.

If Dike had an open mind, Santiago was sure Trace could do it again. It was just a matter of time.

They just had to survive this attack on Foy first. And if Dike was doubting the leadership of the guys, it didn't bode well for his first foray in leading Easy Company into battle.

With a resigned sigh, Santiago put the confrontation from his mind and turned back to the topographical map of the area to run through the plan with Mateo one more time.

---

25032 Galactic Standard Calendar, Tracinya Vizla, Umbara

The next morning, just before the attack on Foy, Fernanda pulled Tracinya aside.

"I spoke with Santiago last night," he said, shaking her head at the question on her face. "We both knew there was nothing he could do, Trace."

She looked down. The pit in her stomach that was ever-present before walking into an attack sank to her toes. It felt like doom.

She pushed the thought aside. It would not help her survive the fight ahead, and she had to survive for the sake of her men.

Fernanda gripped her arm in comfort. "I'll be leading Second Platoon. I want you with me."

"Yes, ma'am," she said, pleased they weren't being foisted onto some green Lieutenant for this. Fernanda would at least lead the men sensibly.

"Are the men ready?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. I think there are a few more boxes of ammo at the supply tent. Make sure you distribute it to the men?"

"You got it, Ann," Tracinya agreed with a smile.

Tracinya had already memorized the plan, but she mentally reviewed it once more as she wandered amongst Second Platoon distributing Fernanda's ammo and her own reassurances.

To get to Foy, Easy Company had to cross the open field they'd been staring down on for the last week. It was only an eighth-of-a-mile, and in any other scenario, an eighth-of-a-mile was a miniscule distance for Easy Company, used to twenty-mile forced marches.

But this was different.

For this sprint, they'd be completely exposed with no adequate cover until they hit the town. The town that they'd watched the Umbarans fortify for days.

Tracinya was uneasy – particularly about the sprint across open ground – but it was Santiago's plan and he'd earned her trust several times over.

And really, Santiago had planned it out pretty well, giving Easy ample time to cross the field and take the town, fortified or not. Item Company from Third Battalion was going to attack the town from the east to provide a diversion. Hopefully, they would keep the Umbarans distracted and draw their artillery fire. Dog was being held in reserve in case it all went belly up – but Tracinya didn't actually foresee needing them unless the shit really hit the fan.

But it didn't really matter how well the rest of the plan had been laid out. It would all be for naught if they couldn't get across the field before the Umbarans recalibrated their guns. If that happened, well, a lot of Easy Company men would die.

As she made her way through her Platoon, she eyed the remaining replacements.

The losses they'd suffered in the shellings over the last few days had demanded yet another shuffle of personnel, and once again, Tracinya found herself with green-as-grass replacements making up the majority of the squad she'd be leading.

There were some bonuses. She'd still – and it was getting a bit ridiculous really – managed to hold onto Samuel, which had thrilled the private. She'd also inherited Babe from Toye's squad and gained the invaluable Cobb from Bull's.

She and Cobb had had problems in the past, mostly when he was drinking. Cobb was a mean drunk, becoming supercilious and generally unpleasant as opposed to violent. But he was still one of the most experienced soldiers in the entire Battalion. Overall, the man was a damn good soldier, and a superb shot.

She was honestly just glad she had at least one veteran still with her, and so when she found Cobb staring pensively out at Foy, she gave him a smile and crouched down next to him.

"Hey, Cobb," she said, startling him out of whatever deep thoughts had lured him into his head. "How're you doin'?"

"Good," he said, clearing his throat, "I'm good."

"I'm really glad you're with me today, Cobb," she said, examining the task before them again.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye as the silence dragged on. He looked stunned. It took him a beat longer to respond with a nod, all other responses he'd probably discarded as inappropriate.

She cleared her throat, fighting back the cough, and spoke again. "You got the plan?"

"Yep," he said, his normal bite back in his tone. He busied his hands with his weapon, checking the cartridges.

"I'm going to be counting on you to help me keep these kids in order. Just remember that the priority is getting into Foy and cover."

He smiled then, snapping the first round of his magazine into place with the bolt action on his SA-20 assault rifle. "You got it, Boss Lady," he said.

Tracinya eyed the weapon for a moment before asking, "You got enough ammo for that?"

It was a standard gun, but because it wasn't the standard issue rifle finding ammo for it had become a constant struggle.

"You know where I can get more?"

Tracinya thought about it and thought about the supplies guys, thinking of each man before eventually discarding him as unlikely. Finally, she remembered Vest.

Vest was the poor bastard who'd been stuck with the job of delivering mail since Christophsis. Somewhere along the lines he'd become the guy to talk to if you needed something, whether it was regulation or not. But he'd need a bribe.

"If you hurry, you can check with Vest by the CP before we go," suggested Tracinya.

Cobb nodded and stood to go.

Tracinya called out before he got too far, having been too busy digging through her pockets to keep him from wandering away half-cocked. "He'll need a bribe!" she called and tossed him the pack of cigarettes she'd been saving for a similar occasion.

The pack smacked the man in the chest, but he managed to get his hands up to catch the precious cigarettes before they fell and the snow ruined them.

Seeing what they were, Cobb gave her a large grin that lightened his whole demeanour. "Thanks, Boss Lady!" he called as he hurried to find Vest. She wondered if all the cigarettes would make it to the supply officer, or if Cobb would hold a few back for himself.

She shook her head and moved on to talk to the other guys in the platoon, offering so many platitudes that the guys' faces all started blurring together. She tried to hold the new names in her mind, but this was the sixth Smith she'd had to learn a face for since the war began, and the names and stories slipped away from her like water in a sieve to muddle together immediately after she'd moved on.

When talking to the replacements, she accentuated the need for everyone to stick to formation and keep moving. The priority was crossing the field to cover. She tempered this with reassurances, boiling down to variations of, "You'll be fine. Just do your job and you'll be fine."

She was well aware that she was lying to some of them, but what else could she do? They were as ready for this as they could be.

Eventually she found herself at odds, with nothing left to do but wait with Fernanda for the command to advance.

She did so anxiously, strangely more nervous about this attack than she'd been for the drop into Umbara. There, at least, she was too green to really know how short the odds were. It had helped that she'd jumped with the absolute knowledge that every last man she'd landed with she could trust her life to.

She had none of the calm that had settled over her for that jump today. Her eyes restlessly drifted between the town below and the men around her.

Their machine guns opened up from either side of the Company in covering fire and the sprint for Foy began.

Tracinya was up and running immediately, shouting: "Let's go, Second Platoon!" as she herded her men forward.

Her eyes flicked over her men, making sure everyone was moving out as quickly as they possibly could, making sure the stragglers were coming along, forcing them to join the forward moving unit. She stayed in the middle of the group where she needed to be, rather than charging ahead and leading the way.

It seemed like only seconds before the Umbarans were pouring on the heat from their heavy guns. Light artillery and tank fire made the ground buckle and jump out from under her feet. She yanked on a man who'd stumbled, towing him forward until he found his feet and kept moving, racing to make up lost time.

The sooner they hit the town, the sooner they'd get to cover. Tracinya just had to keep everybody moving and organized. It was like herding stray cats, albeit ones inclined to head in a particular direction.

Guys fell on either side of her, pinged by snipers and enemy machine gun fire. "DON'T STOP!" she yelled, voice going hoarse as she stressed her already strained voice to yell above the popping guns and earth shattering bombardment.

"GO! GO!" she insisted, as the Umbarans started raining blasts from their heavy guns. Artillery and tank fire shook the ground beneath her feet, sending some soldiers to the ground. She grabbed a man who fell in front of her and pulled him forward until he found his feet.

"KEEP MOVING!" She screamed herself completely hoarse, and then lowered her register and bellowed some more, as some of the guys in front slowed down now that they were under direct fire, moving more cautiously.

Out of nowhere, Dike screamed, "HOLD UP!" Tracinya immediately froze and turned about to engage the enemy Dike had spotted. There could be no other reason to stop the attack, not while they were still out in the open.

Seeing nothing, and putting it down to a battlefield illusion, she kept moving, waving her arm to usher the men behind her onwards since she could no longer effectively cajole them with her voice.

She figured she was correct about it being a figment of her imagination as she both saw and heard Lip bellowing from behind her to keep moving.

"EASY COMPANY!" Dike bellowed; there was no mistaking it this time. "HOLD UP!"

"SECOND PLATOON, HOLD UP!" Fernanda echoed, holding her fist up in the hand signal to hold tight.

Tracinya dropped to the ground, the sharp ice digging into her skin through her pants.

"HOLD UP!" she echoed. Her head swivelled, trying to take account of where everyone was, scanning the platoon for holdouts. There weren't any. The men had obeyed; the smarter ones were already looking for concealment to get out of view from the artillery gunners.

The majority of her Platoon hadn't made a dash for cover. They stayed on their bellies, trying to make themselves into the smallest targets possible.

She had to find Lieutenant Dike and figure out what the hell was going on.

She set about trying to account for her guys and her commander. Her mouth ran through curses absently as her voice dropped in and out, on its last leg.

She spent longer than she should ever have to searching for Dike. Santiago had always been right up front when he led, leading the charge all the way. Dike had somehow managed to disappear yet again, this time in the fray of soldiers attacking the town.

When she concluded that he was nowhere to be seen, she found Fernanda.

She was on her eight o'clock, flagging the still running men down to the ground and making sure everyone had obeyed.

A mortar shot – zeroed in on her squad – erupted twenty feet in front of her, showering her with dirt and black snow. Ice and dirt pelted off her armour as she was flung into the dirt. Her helmet slammed painfully back onto her head, rattling her for a moment.

She shook the pain away and tried to scream, "Get to some cover!" but her voice disappeared as she tried to pitch it for the men to hear. She gave it up as a lost cause and scrambled to find herself some cover, hoping the men would follow her example.

Fortunately, Fernanda was yelling loud enough for them both. "FIND SOME COVER!" she bellowed, shooing guys out of the open from his position on his knees.

"FIND SOME COVER! FIND SOME COVER!" Fernanda screamed again and again as the mortars hammered the exposed Easy Company, landing amongst the men and sending several unfortunate soldiers flying through the air in pieces.

Tracinya belly crawled forward. The powder fine icicles wedged themselves into even the tiniest gap in her armour as she waded through the snow.

She finally hit the cover she'd scouted, some farm equipment abandoned mid plow, now covered in a thick layer of snow. Cautiously, she peeked around it to take in the scene again.

If there was incoming enemy infantry hitting them, she still couldn't see them – which was all together worse news. If they were hiding, they could start opening up at any moment. If they weren't, then all of Easy Company was holding, with their ass out, in an open field for no Goddamn reason.

Fernanda called Perry to her six and took off, presumably to find Dike and get some orders.

Tracinya watched them go as she flinched from yet another artillery blast. She wanted to go with them to find out the reasoning behind the halt, but she damn well knew better than to abandon her platoon out in the open.

Tracinya stayed where she was needed, scanning the ground for stranded guys she could help.

She watched as the few men able to find their feet ran for it, becoming quick casualties to the enemy snipers and machine gun fire and the terrible realization of the inevitable sank in.

They were helpless, stranded.

There was no cover, there was no moving. Hope and prayer was all that was keeping her from becoming one of the poor bastards flung into the air and landing as mincemeat.

She'd thought lying in a foxhole was the worst thing that could ever happen to a person in war. She revised that belief.

This was like hell on Manadalor.

Her eyes darted around the field, desperate for a solution as men fell around her like dominos.

Her eyes found Cobb, hauling a replacement back towards a hay mound, the kid flailing and generally making everything much harder for the veteran. She'd bet two cartons of cigarettes that Cobb was growling and snarling at the idiot.

Tracinya flinched as the replacement Cobb was dragging was shot out from under him. She hadn't been sure she could feel horror anymore.

Cobb dutifully carried the corpse back to concealment, grim-faced at the turn of events.

The next familiar faces she found were Samuel and Babe, who had ended up crouched together behind some stacked fence posts. She watched Babe try to peek over the top, to see if he could get a shot somehow. She could see him duck down as dirt kicked up behind him in what could've been a fatal headshot had the kid been just a hair slower.

Samuel, smart bastard that he was, didn't even bother trying to get a shot off over the pile. He crouched down and waited for orders to move forward.

An advantage generally left unobserved until middle of an advance, is that of blending into the crowd. If there were a lot of targets to shoot at, sure the Umbarans had better odds of hitting people, but there were also better odds of it not being her.

The constant bombardment, the waiting for orders, went on forever. There was nothing she could do but wait, and it gnawed at her.

They were stuck here. She was going to die here.

Desperation turned her fear into determination.

Becoming bold in her desperation to just be able to do something, she peaked over her concealment, trying to see where muzzle flashes were in the town.

She immediately took note of the building with the caved in roof and tried to nail the sniper holed up in there, but she just couldn't get the right angle to hit the man, much to her frustration. The church steeple was equally as frustrating as her shots kept nailing the white grate surrounding the machine gun nest.

The ping of laser on metal and a hot scorch across her helmet made her gasp in surprise as she fell back, thankfully into cover. She blinked a few times, coming face to face with how very close she'd been to reaching out and colliding with her demise.

She came up snarling mad. She was not going to fucking die out here like a fish in a barrel. She got into a prone position, sighting her Westar Carbine through a gap in the farm equipment and aimed for an easier target, picking off the scurrying, armour clad Umbaran infantry as they scampered between buildings.

She didn't even notice how much ammo she snapped through, grateful that she'd stocked up as she slammed the next cartridge in the last's place and lining up shots. She spared only a few seconds on each shot, making sure her shots would hit a Umbaran, shooting on instinct.

Each one she nailed was its own victory, symbolic of her refusal to lie down passively for death. But every shot she made, encouraged the Umbarans to aim for her.

Tracinya found herself targeted by shell after shell of mortar fire as the heavy guns tried to take out her concealment. She flinched as clumps of dirt showered her, the shots narrowing in on her position.

She tried to scream, but her voice had long since gone.

To her left, Babe and Samuel opened up, trying to give the Umbarans another option to fire at, to remind them that the rest of Easy Company wasn't going to go quietly either.

Something shifted again. The guns turned their attention elsewhere.

When Tracinya was able to rally herself enough to take stock of the situation, she wished she hadn't.

She could only watch the disaster unfold as First, stranded and alone, tried to execute a flanking mission.

Flanking missions didn't work if the flankers could be outflanked.

Adding to the confusion were Fernanda's and Dike's orders for suppressing fire.

It was a terrible idea to have suppressing fire on a flanking mission. The suppressing fire could slam right into the flanking team. They ran the risk of shooting First rather than the enemy.

The whole idea was insane. And it certainly hadn't been in the plan Captain Santiago had laid out.

And then the ugly situation became worse. As the enemy fire that had pinned First down from the original attack plan wasn't dealt with, they were still stuck. Only now, they were dangling out from the safety of the line, and stuck.

It was a disaster.

Tracinya had to force herself not to do something stupid – like pop up and run to First's aid – as she saw man after man fall in the hail of plasma from the Umbarans in Foy, especially from the snipers nest tucked away in the building with the caved in roof.

At least Fernanda was aware of the danger. He started yelling to focus on that building. Tracinya joined the other men in trying to rain down so much lead on the position that the sniper wouldn't be able to twitch let alone fire again.

Tracinya found herself muttering curses again under her breath as she tried to ignore First's plight, now towing their wounded back to cover.

They were all going to die out here. Dike's leadership was going to kill them all.

She'd been right.

She'd never been so sorry to be right.

Suddenly, the building with the caved in roof went up in flames. Tracinya grinned in triumph before moving on to spot the next deadliest target. She nailed the bricks of the bell tower of the church, praying she'd hit one of the MG operators.

She was so caught up in the moment that she nearly missed the sudden forward movement all around her.

"- Second Platoon on the CO!" Fernanda shouted, following a sprinting figure.

Thank God.

Tracinya didn't care who the CO was, couldn't recognize him from this distance, but she got to her feet and started sprinting after him.

"Move! Get up and fucking move!" Tracinya yelled, not caring that her voice only managed every third word. She didn't even slow down as she snagged men and towed them forwards, forcing them to run.

She yanked whoever's webbing happened to be in her hand until the man in it managed to get his feet under him. Only when he'd stopped stumbling did she let him go and grab the next one who happened to be on her way.

Sure enough, the replacements followed her example and started towing their comrades forward until the entire Platoon was moving once again towards Foy and solid cover.

She kept hearing Fernando screaming behind her, trying to coax the rest of the guys up and moving, and poured on some more speed as she sprinted forward, leading the men onwards.

She slammed through the miniscule barbed wire fences that line the town, running roughshod through the barriers with relative ease. She certainly had enough motivation to get off the field.

Tracinya had always been one of the faster soldiers. Once all of her soldiers managed to get their shit together and keep moving, she ate up the ground between her and the running CO, catching him easily.

She stuck to him as they bounded through the last bit of the field desperate to hit Foy and the cover its urban terrain provided from artillery fire.

She was right on his six and thus nearly smacked into him when he did an improbable backbend to avoid an incoming tank round. He looked around for a beat before ploughing on forward. There was a cacophony of screaming behind her, the words no more than a muffled outcry as Easy Company finally surged into Foy.

The CO hit the first building they found, Tracinya only half a beat behind him, recognizing the man finally.

It was Lieutenant Speirs.

Thank God for that, she thought, grateful someone with sense was finally in charge of the company.

"Radio! Get over here!" called Speirs, spying Pedro. Tracinya hadn't even noticed the man dogging their trail and barely spared him any mind now.

She dropped into a kneeling crouch and went back to picking off the Umbarans in the open.

Fernanda joined them just a moment after Pedro, taking position next to Tracinya. He pulled her back with a hand on her shoulder to take his own assessment of the enemy.

A blast of MG fire shattered the corner.

Some of the Umbarans must have cottoned on to Tracinya's hiding place and the death that was emanating from there.

Fernanda jerked back with a wince. The NVGs the Orionains used didn't offer the same level of protection as Republic and Mandalorian visors.

There was a moment of stunned surprise as Fernanda curled up to protect her injury and Tracinya, after a deep breath to centre herself, whipped around and fired the last three rounds in her clip into the back of the retreating Umbaran.

"You okay?" she shouted, trying to be heard despite her disappearing voice and the continuing bombardment as she pulled back into cover to reload.

"What?" shouted Fernanda, not able to hear her properly, but she was curled up protecting her face with her hand first and then her entire body.

She worried that if she stopped to check on him, the Umbarans would take the opportunity to hit the building again, possibly with something a little bigger than MG fire and wipe them all out.

"What do you see, Fernanda?" bellowed Speirs, not even realizing that he was interrupting.

Tracinya took another deep breath, trying to re-centre herself, before she bent around the corner, lined up another shot, and nailed another Umbaran.

"Armoured infantry, a lot of infantry!" said Fernanda, reporting what she'd glimpsed, and then leaning out again around Tracinya to confirm.

If Fernanda and Speirs had a conversation after that, Tracinya didn't hear it as she fell into the trance that sometimes overtook her when she was shooting. The rifle was suddenly more like a limb than a tool and she fired again and again, automatically, without the slightest hitch or hesitation as she reloaded her gun and knocked Umbaran after Umbaran dead.

Fernanda screaming pulled her out of it. "Sir, I think they're going to pull back. If we don't connect with Ist Company, they're gonna slip away!"

"That's right," said Speirs, shouting to be heard. He patted Fernanda on the knee in reassurance and then Tracinya on the shoulder in warning. "Stay here!" he ordered and darted out into the line of fire.

Tracinya only just managed to register his intention and pull up her gun before she put a round in her new CO's back, cursing.

"What the hell?" asked Samuel, echoing Tracinya's thoughts so perfectly that she didn't even bother to put hers to words.

The three of them behind the wall shared a look before unanimously crowding the corner to watch as their CO fearlessly bounded through the enemy's line.

Horrified, she went back to picking off what infantry she could, giving the Umbarans a more lucrative target. She tried to nail some of the artillery gunners especially, but infantrymen immediately took their place.

All the while, she tried to comprehend what was happening right in front of her.

Somehow, the Umbarans weren't shooting at Speirs. He made it through their line practically unchallenged.

It was the strangest, most miraculous thing she'd ever seen, bar none.

She tracked the man as he disappeared behind a stone fence, picking off any who dared aim that way instead of at her.

It was absolutely amazing. But what happened next completely flabbergasted her.

Speirs came back through the line to Easy's position.

It was unbelievable. She was witnessing it and she still couldn't believe it. She traded dumbfounded glances with Fernanda and Samuel, thankful they were seeing it too and it wasn't some grand hallucination or her mind playing tricks on her.

Hands down it was the craziest thing she'd ever seen. Speirs was one stupid, crazy, son-of-a-bantha. She turned round the corner again to pick off more Umbarans and noticed they had started to flee in the direction off their capital. She watched as an anti-tank missile slammed into the form of a retreating Umbaran tank. She watched as it toppled a crushed a retreating Umbaran.

By now most the Umbarans had reached the safety of the woods opposite the woods and the few that stood and fought were quickly cut down.

---

Tracinya and the rest of Easy Company worked on cleaning out the houses of Umbarans who'd stayed behind to surrender. She'd paired up with Babe for the sweep.

Ist Company was posing for the newsreels on one of the captured Umbaran artillery pieces. She could hear them singing through the thin windowpane as she and Babe mounted the stairway, she on point and Babe behind.

There was an open doorway just in front of them. She glanced backwards at Babe, who gave her a nod. She took a deep breath and then popped around the corner, gun up and ready to fire. She'd prepared herself for Umbarans, but three of them was a surprise.

"Hands!" she shouted. "Let me see your hands!"

One Umbaran scrambled for his gun. Babe came from behind her, aggressively holding his M60-AR out, screaming, "Hey! Hey! Don't even think about it, pal!"

Tracinya kept an eye on the two other Umbarans, who'd seen sense and thrown their hands up immediately, shouting unintelligibly in Umbaran.

The Umbaran who'd tried to arm himself dropped the weapon and threw his hands up too, surrendering to them without further fuss.

"Out!" she barked. She motioned to the door with her carbine and the Umbarans were complying.

The sharp snap of a gunshot had her throwing herself to into the wall, gun up.

"HEY!" she shouted at the flinching Umbarans. The Umbarans had been only half a second away from trying to use the sound as a distraction for escape. When the second shot sounded, they found their own common sense and threw themselves away from the windows.

The singing outside had stopped. Someone screamed, "Sniper!" while another voice shouted: "Take cover!"

There was a string of gunfire that followed. If Tracinya had to guess, her money would be that the enemy sniper had decided to get one perfect shot and then kill as many as he could once he'd revealed himself.

The Umbarans had their hands covering their heads and were babbling again; scared the Orionians holding them would suddenly go crazy and start shooting them in retaliation.

"Babe," said Tracinya, "you got 'em?"

"Yeah, Sarge," the man answered, his entire focus on the Umbarans in case they tried to do anything stupid.

"Good," said Tracinya as she approached the window overlooking the main street. "I'm gonna see if I can't figure out what the hell is going on."

"You got it," said Babe.

She took in the empty street and the abandoned light artillery, scanning the upper buildings she could see for muzzle flashes that would give away the sniper's position.

And then some idiot broke cover and ran directly into the line of fire. Tracinya cringed and must have sworn aloud based on Babe's immediate response of, "What? What is it?"

Fernanda was making a suicide run across the square. The sniper took a shot and she finally narrowed down his nest to the right building. She took a deep breath and flinched as the enemy took another shot at the now weaving Fernanda.

A second shot sounded just after the last and the sniper went silent. The sound of cheering awoke. Tracinya followed the logical direction of the shots, and Fernanda's origins, and found Shifty lowering his Ac-160, a satisfied smile on his face.

Tracinya breathed a sigh of relief before telling Babe, "All clear. Let's get these prisoners out of here."

It took no further coaxing to get the Umbarans down the stairs.

---

Tracinya found out later that they'd taken over a hundred prisoners at Foy.

Perconte had gotten himself shot in the ass and evacuated to medical to the rear. The Easy Company tradition was alive and well. She still laughed long and hard when she saw the small man dangling from Bull's back like a cape or something, the big man ploughing determinedly on as though he didn't even feel the extra hundred odd pounds of Perconte's weight.

That night, as she looked over the smoking ruins of Foy, she took a sigh of relief, feeling like the worst was over.

LINE BREAK

Easy Company wasn't taken off the line after Foy, no matter how much they might have deserved it. They were all exhausted and after everything they'd gone through – all the men they'd lost – Easy Company had been selected to join the assault on another Umbaran settlement.

Adding to the injustice, the Brass had planned for the attack to take place at noon.

"At least we aren't laying siege to the place," said Tracinya, thinking of the dreadful, anxiety filled wait they'd had before attacking Foy and the shellings they'd had to endure.

It didn't make her, or anyone else, feel better.

The mist finally decided to come out the morning of the attack. The snow on the ground was knee deep.

Soon the plan came down from on high. Apparently, the plan was for Easy Company to trudge through the snow, through the half-mile open field, in full range of the Umbaran artillery and attack the town head on. At high-noon.

Suicide came to mind.

Luckily, Santiago had a plan.

"If this works," said Santiago as he addressed Easy Company's NCOs. "It should render the Umbarans advantages moot."

The Umbarans had the high ground, again, and had camouflaged their tanks with the settlements buildings and the like, in addition to their idiotic attack time, meant that things weren't looking up for Easy Company.

Santiago explained his plan.

He had to explain it again.

"We're going to what?" Lieutenant Pierce asked incredulously.

Tracinya shared a look with Malarkey.

Out of respect for the man, Tracinya didn't question the Captain's plan, despite how crazy it sounded. If it worked it would be a brilliant strategy, completely unexpected, and yes, eliminating the overwhelming Umbaran advantage.

And ultimately, Tracinya was willing to follow Santiago through hell. Following him through Umbara would be a piece of cake.

Easy Company joined the rest of Second Battalion and formed one long, single-file line. This all but eliminated the impediment of the snow.

It was also extremely dangerous. One lucky hit from the Umbarans could wipe out the whole battalion.

The Captain found a deep shoulder in the terrain, running parallel to their assigned approach line. He led the battalion along, Easy Company at the fore, using the ridge to help camouflage the long column as they moved forward, miraculously finding more and more cover the closer they got to the town.

Tracinya glanced over at First Battalion only once.

First was attacking the Umbarans about 400 yards to Second's left, taking direct fire from the Umbaran's artillery. Dozens of men were flung into the air at once, coming down in pieces if they weren't completely incinerated in the blast.

They were being slaughtered.

They probably wouldn't even be all found until spring.

The nervous knot in her stomach got tighter at the fate that awaited them if the Umbarans cottoned on to their plan. Even still, she was utterly grateful for Santiago's madcap scheme because otherwise Second would be right there being blown apart with First.

They kept moving.

She tried to put the constant, heavy fear of discovery to the back of her mind, focusing solely on the man in front of her, Luke, back as she tried to keep low and keep up.

It was a long tense march as they skirted their way around the southeast corner of the town, intending to attack the Umbarans from the rear.

By some miracle, they managed to circle the town without being detected as night offically fell.

There was just one more hurdle: a stretch of open ground, edged with a stream, between them and a prime position to attack.

Brrrrrrrrrrrrt!

Tracinya ducked, biting her lip to keep from screaming in terror as a Umbaran machine gun opened fire on them, peppering the front of the column as they tried to sneak across the open gap.

Santiago acted quickly, setting up two of Easy's light machine guns to provide covering fire. When the Umbarans fired, Santiago had their guns give a return burst to cover groups, roughly eight to ten men at a time, across the open ground and the stream on the other side.

Tracinya waited for her turn, watching anxiously as her friends raced across the gap, holding her breath until they'd made it across. Each group that made it across safely just ratcheted up the tension that the next group wouldn't be so lucky.

When it was her turn she took a deep breath.

Luke was running with her.

They could make it.

"Go!" ordered Santiago.

Tracinya didn't need telling twice. She ducked down and ran like hell anticipating the hot plasma of a bolt searing through her with every pounding footstep.

She nearly slipped into the stream, the rocks slick under her snow caked boots.

Luke seized her arm as soon as she started flailing, though, and hauled her across.

Safe behind cover, she sagged. "Thanks," she said looking up at Luke, who was also breathing heavily after the mad sprint.

"Anytime, Trace," he said with a smile.

Tracinya was, once again, glad she had Luke looking out for her.

When everyone had run across, they reassembled and Tracinya realized that somehow they had made it through the whole ordeal without a single loss or injury.

Somehow, Santiago's crazy, suicidal, scheme had saved them all.

It was some of the best leadership and tactics Tracinya had ever seen, let alone been a part of, and solidified her trust in Santiago.

She would never question him – not even privately – again.

By dark, wringing wet with sweat and freezing in the snow, Second Battalion waited in the freezing cold to launch the final assault on the Umbarans at dawn.

Their flanking mission was a success. For some reason, the Umbarans on the machine gun never managed to communicate that some of the Orionians had managed to make it to the southern side of town. As a result, the Umbarans were still oriented to the north, where all the Orionian attacks had come from for the past few days, and were completely disoriented when Second Battalion attacked from the rear.

Come dawn there was a heavy firefight before the Umbarans – despite having tanks and superior numbers – withdrew around noon.

Tracinya would remember none of it – lost as another firefight for another town with little to no actual value apart from the ever moving quest to go forward and rout the Umbarans – but the tactics from the night before would remain with her for the rest of her life.

---

Two days after they'd taken Foy, they learned that showers and a breather would have to wait yet again. Instead, they took a town, the Umbarans fleeing as soon as the Orionians reached the village proper after moderate resistance on the approach.

Victorious, the exhausted Easy Company bunked down in town hall. It was the first time Tracinya had slept inside a building in over three weeks.

Tracinya took a moment and prayed. She thanked Force that she'd made it, and thanked it for every single person in Easy Company who'd survived. She asked it to watch over those who'd passed and welcome them. They badly deserved the rest.

The mood was relaxed. They were going to be taken off the line tomorrow, they said. Back to showers and actual food. And, for tonight, they were inside.

She lay down on a pew for a few moments and closed her eyes, only to sit up and cough, hard and loudly. Damn, she'd thought her stupid cough had gone away. She lay back again, panting, and had to sit up to cough again. She tried to muffle it, but the guys around her, particularly Lieutenant Speirs sitting in front of her, turned to stare. She turned away, but she could still feel his piercing eyes on her.

She tried to suppress her coughing, at least while Fernanda was here, but after leaving her alone for most of an adrenaline filled day, the choking spasms gripped her hard now that she was resting.

Fernanda sat down beside her, pulling her close with a gentle arm and rubbing soothing circles into her back to calm her down. After another long minute of fighting to breathe, she collapsed against her warm chest, trying to ignore the tears no doubt lining her cheeks.

When she recovered enough to actually think about the rest of the world again, she found herself looking into the eyes of Lieutenant Speirs. "You all right there, Sergeant?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," she said. "Sorry, Ann," she said, blinking tiredly as she leaned into her to brace herself and push backwards to sit on her own. Tracinya pushed her away from her gently and leaned back into the pew. Looks like I'm sleeping sitting up tonight, she thought, smiling tiredly at the man.

The man took this as she meant it, and let her go. He left her to attend to their new CO. She watched their interactions through hooded eyes as exhaustion dragged at her.

Speirs looked awkward as he stuffed a paper, Fernanda's report, into his pocket. "I've got to get this up to Battalion before they disappear."

"Yes, sir," said Fernada, eyeing the man, probably debating whether or not to try and speak with him.

Speirs caught Fernanda staring, "What is it?" he asked.

She immediately pretended she hadn't been caught out, "Nothing, sir."

Tracinya stopped herself from rolling her eyes. Men.

"You want to ask me, don't you?" said Speirs as he gathered his stuff together.

"Ask you what, sir?" said Fernanda with a disarming smile.

"You want to know if they're true or not, the stories about me." Fernanda didn't deny it. "You ever notice with stories like that, everyone says they heard it from someone who was there, but then if you ask that person, they say they heard it from someone who was there. It's nothing new really. I bet if you went back two thousand years, you'd hear a couple of Centurions standing around yakking about how Tertius lobbed off the heads of some Carthaginian prisoners."

"Well, maybe they kept talking about it because they never heard Tertius deny it?"

"Well, maybe that's because Tertius knew there was some value in the men thinking he was the meanest toughest son of a bitch in the whole Roman Legion."

"Like keeping all his cigarettes," interjected Tracinya, voice pitched in as close to a whisper as her sore throat allowed.

Speirs gave her a small smile, or maybe his lip twitched, she wasn't sure in the candle light and wasn't brave enough to call him on it either way.

"Yes," said Speirs. "And not having to deal with drunken, insubordinate, officers on duty."

"I hate drunk people," offered Tracinya, filter off now that her body was halfway asleep. Fernanda grabbed a blanket from thin air and laid it over her, tucking her in.

"Go to sleep, Sergeant Vizsla," chided Fernanda.

"Yes, sir," she agreed and let her head roll away from their direction. Up for trying to sleep, even if she didn't think she'd be able to.

---

2623 25th August Earth Standard Calendar, SGT Fernanda, Umbara

Fernanda turned back to Speirs to find the man watching them carefully. The man jerked his head, and Fernanda followed Speirs a few yards away from Tracinya to keep from disturbing her.

"Is she all right?"

Fernanda shrugged. "She's not admitting to it, but I don't think so."

"How much do you know about her?"

Fernanda shrugged again, embarrassed this time. "A lot I think. Well enough to know that she'd say anything to stay with the men."

She took a deep breath, her own lungs twinging in a protest that she viciously squashed. The last thing she needed was to start coughing too.

"I just hope the men don't believe the rumours about me. It would make my job difficult."

"Just so you know, these men aren't really concerned about the stories. They're just glad to have you as our CO. They're happy to have a good leader again."

"Including you, First Sergeant?" It felt like Speirs was assessing her.

"Yes, sir," said Fernanda.

"Well from what I've heard they've always had one," said Speirs, looking hard at Fernanda's face. "I've been told there's always been one person they could count on. Led 'em into the thick of the fight, held 'em together when they had the crap shelled out of them in the woods. Everyday kept their spirits up. Kept the men focused, gave them direction. All the things a good combat leader does." He paused, searching for recognition on Fernanda's face. He seemed pleased when he didn't find any. "You don't have any idea who I'm talking about do you?"

"No, sir," said Fernanda. The only candidate she could think of was Tracinya, who'd bounced from foxhole to foxhole but Speirs had said person. Bull would have fit before he left, but if there was such a perosn still with them, Fernanda was kicking himself for not noticing him.

"Hell, it was you First Sergeant," Speirs said, cracking a grin. "Ever since Santiago made Battalion, you've been the leader of Easy Company." Speirs began to walk away, but turned back quickly as a thought entered his mind. "Oh and ah, you're not going to be a first sergeant for long, First Sergeant," said Speirs with the same smile.

"Sir?" They were demoting her? After that speech?

"Santiago put in for a battlefield promotion and Sink approved on your behalf. You should get the official nod in a few days. Congratulations, Lieutenant." Speirs grinned and walked away, his boots clacking loudly on the tiled floor.

Fernanda went back to Tracinya and sat down next to her, unsurprised when she leaned into her shoulder again.

"Congratulations, Lieutenant," she rasped, looking up at him with a grin. She smiled down at her and ruffled her hair.

It didn't take long for her to fall asleep like that, propped up on her.

Fernanda found that she didn't mind at all.

---

25032 Galactic Standard Calendar, Tracinya Vizla, Umbara

The next morning, Tracinya found out that they were bound for FOB Frost at the rear for a breather. It was off the front line, they were no longer spearheading the advance, but leave would have to wait again.

At least they were in trucks. She sat squished between Samuel and Diego in one up front, shoulders up to her ears as she shivered, freezing even though it wasn't snowing anymore and by all accounts the day was far warmer than it had been when they were in the woods. The draft from the slowly moving truck made her tremble. She'd kept the blanket from Fernanda and tried to get a bit more sleep but it was useless. Each bump and jerk the truck jolted her entire body. She already ached, but if the driver didn't take it easy, she was going to throw up. And she'd just had the first warm food she'd had in a month, thanks-very-much.

"Hey!" called Samuel, scaring the shit out of her. She hadn't been paying attention to him, or what he was talking about with Fernanda. "Hey!" he called again to the men outside the truck.

"Whadda ya want?" one of the guys walking below shouted back.

Tracinya spared them a glance, First Battalion.

"Yeah, thanks for crapping in our foxholes, ya shitheads," grumbled Samuel

"Hey, it was our pleasure!" the man saluted.

"Enjoy the walk boys!" taunted Bull from across from her.

Tracinya's laugh turned into a cough. Diego pounded her on the back. She leaned over the side of the truck to spit out the goop in her mouth and caught sight of Samuel giving Fernanda a cigarette. Huh, she thought. When did that happen? As far as Tracinya knew, Fernanda didn't smoke. Something must've changed.

"There they go!" she heard one of the First Battalion guys say, "Easy Company, riding out again."

---

Extract from the book 'The Orionian Invasion' by Kryv'szella'varr, detailing the impacts of the O.A.G. on the galaxy.

'The Orion Arm Government or Orion Arm Republic as it is known today had many impacts of the galaxy we live in today. As expected it's military doctrines and weaponry surprised the galaxy and the Clone Wars showed just how effective and efficient its war machine was. It's economy boomed with the new trade partners with its specialists goods and products. And later with the discovery of the Great Western Hyperlane that connected Empress Teta to the Orionian fortress world of Eylsium, even greater trade and exploration became possible. But all the unexpected impacts the most surprising was cultural impact the Orionians had. Orionian music, art, film, video games, computers and literature was new fresh and exciting to the galaxy. The upper class elites enjoyed reading the great Orionian authers like Shakespear. While the working class enjoyed the 'Hollywood blockbusters' to use an Orionian saying. Orionian fashion became popular due to its various clothes rather than the usual robes, gowns and basic leatherwork garments worn throughout galactic history. Children wanted the latest Orionian video games and consoles. Aristocrats and politicians chasing after Mozart and Beethoven. The Orionians wrangled their way to all aspects of media and culture to the point it was considered fashionable and cool to be like, live like and act like the mysterious Orionians. The Orionian soldiers that fought during the Clone Wars helped export their media further by talking about their music, art and literature and even handing it over to other combatants they fought alongside.

Orionian food and drink started to dominate the market. Foods like Pizza, burgers, Foie-gras and other foods and recipes unseen before became common place. Fast-food chains and restaurants opened up and became immensely popular among the working and middle classes. Drink brands like Coca-Cola, Schweppes, Carlsburg, Jack Daniels and other alcoholic/non-alcoholic beverages flooded market and out competed man of their competitors. I'll go more in depth about their effects in a moment but the bottom line is the Orionians started to dominate media, culture and people consumables.

---

A/N: This chapter is homage to the HBO series Band Of Brothers, one of my favourite TV series. Also the reason I turned Umbara into a more snowy/frozen world is because it annoyed me that even though Umbara was a world in eternal darkness where there was no sunlight and it frustrated me that there wasn't anything like that when everyone goes on about what would happen to earth with no sun or limited sun, so I decided to change that.