A/N: Nya Nya. KMA. TBBT has NO characters of color (other than Raj) not even in the scenes in CalTech's cafeteria. What's up with that? Decided to add some color to an otherwise drab group of survivors. Evil men will always look to blame someone else for their woes. My villain is hardly any different.

Thanks for reading my crap.

Not This August

Chapter 4

Penny was dreaming. So many dead. The Island in ruins, fires and smoke and explosions filled her mind and then she saw her husband and his friends rallying around the last of their armor. They were all that stood between the encroaching enemy and the unarmed women and children in the shelter.

She saw his chest explode from the sudden fusillade of weapons fire and then she saw the Horde running towards where he lay, crumpled and bleeding, while his friends stood over him, a Forlorn Hope without any. Soon it was over and –

"Sheldon!" Her scream woke him and he threw himself out of bed and stood between her and the bedroom door, pistol in hand, not really awake but aware on some level of a threat to his wife.

It takes nearly 30 minutes for Penny to quit crying and fall back into a restless sleep and all he could get from her was 'bad dream, horrible dream; hold me and never let me go, Sheldon.' He kissed her forehead, brushed her hair and murmured that he had no plans to ever let her go.

He never quite got back into full REM. He had dreams of his own to deal with. Waking dreams. Nightmares.

He woke up tired, watched his wife's soft 'sleep smile' and decided to let her sleep a bit longer while he showered, dressed and made coffee from a dwindling supply she'd squirreled away before the Council took over feeding. Maybe it would go a long way towards brightening her day.

The deck of Badger

Later that same morning

The council met in ad hoc session and listened to several members of the group that joined them the previous day. After listening to the various accounts, Leslie wanted to move 'into executive session' but was overruled by first Bomber, who felt there was little need for discussion, and then Sheldon who simply said, "What more do we need to decide? I've already given my suggestions to Captain Hampton and approved an acquisition expedition to the Guard and Reserve units at Cheboygan."

Leslie frowned and sniffed as if he needed to consensus of the Council but knew it was a 'suggestion' from the Council Executive and that was tantamount to a direct order.

"We need to develop an action plan for defending the island from invasion. We need – "

"Leslie, we have neither the manpower nor the equipment to stop a determined force. Our best bet is to defeat them before they can launch an invasion and that means lake patrols by the Lake Huron augmented by fast boats equipped for reconnaissance not engagement. The Lake Huron has radar. Our friends flying the Providers have converted one of Bomber's favorite trash haulers into an offensive aircraft. I suggest we let them have free rein and as little 'management interference' as possible."

That was a gentle but public slap in the face to Leslie's tendency to micro-manage and she blushed angrily and then ordered the Council to adjourn. She and Bomber were last seen leaving the Badger engaged in a heated conversation.

"Damn Sheldon Cooper! He had no right embarrassing me in front of everyone with his remarks about 'management interference'. That son of a – "

"Les, you do tend to get into details that you should let others handle. What talents do our new arrivals have? Have you taken the time to review the database for new skill sets?"

Lately it seemed that all Leslie did was find fault with whatever Sheldon Cooper or Major Dawn Holmes said or did. It was almost like she'd described how she'd been back before the Choker. Whatever camaraderie they'd developed during their Exodus had quickly disappeared as the Colonials had settled in and begun the process of stabilizing and acclimating to their new environment.

It was getting old, fast. Life was entirely too short to put up with her crap. He'd need to talk to someone about alternative housing. Well, at least he was flying again.

Detroit, MI

The city didn't need much to encouragement to burn. His storm troopers (in his own mind, minions) had taken anything of value to the Order and burned what (and often, who) was left behind.

"Leader, what now?"

Yes, what now, indeed? His army numbered nearly 4,000 but lacked leadership at almost all levels. His initial plan had been to slash and burn his way through every major city in Michigan and then begin to rebuild society as it should be, as it was foretold it would become. The Purge had been easy enough – drive the sub-humans from his territories and let them either wander in the wilderness or die, preferably the latter.

But now, things were falling apart. The machinery of civilization was breaking down and no one was left to fix it. He knew he needed to cull the Race but he also needed mechanics and techs and laborers to get things running and stay running.

What did the Fuehrer do when faced with this dilemma?

But now, recognizing his own weaknesses, he fell back on the lessons of history. He had read the histories, learned about the mistakes of the past and vowed never to repeat them.

"We consolidate our power, garrison the cities and towns, and begin rebuilding a society of the Pure and the Worthy, institute the laws of Racial Purity, and bring those of like minds into our fold."

"What about those – animals - who form the Tip of the Spear?" When the Order had first taken shape amongst the dead and dying, it had been necessary to use prisoners released from various prisons to act as assault troops. They were little better than animals in his opinion but it was the Leader's opinion that counted and so he waited while Dyson made up his mind.

"Animals? Yes, of course, they are. But they are my animals and may still have uses should we run into any organized resistance. Have them locate and inventory every military establishment in the state and report back via courier. We must have weapons and equipment available and personnel trained in their use before we can move to Phase 2."

As his deputy turned to begin issuing orders, Dyson said, "We must bring the countryside to our side. The men and women who farm and work the systems must be encouraged to side with us. Continue using the 'United States Recovery Force' as our cover and limit the slaughter this time, David. We need recruits, not more bodies on the road."

"Yes, Leader." He saluted the smaller man, fist thrust against heart, and left. He had things to do. First he had to deal with the Animals, the Leader's pets.

The Island

Sam Green put on his best face and explained to Wyatt and his wife what he could determine without a biopsy and MRI and other tests.

"You're in Stage II, Wyatt. Soon you'll be feeling more fatigued, nauseous, and you'll begin to retain fluids resulting in a bloated appearance. The whites of your eyes will yellow with jaundice. We can keep you comfortable, doped up, or we can try some of the older methods developed to treat the disease."

"So there's no hope at all, just lie here until I die?" He wasn't bitter towards the physician, just blunt like always.

"Let me do some research in that rather impressive medical library you folks have established. I think perhaps we can get you up and around again barring any spread of the cancer to other organs. In fact, at this point, I'd say your demise is a long way off, my friend. I've looked through the 'pharmacy' and I'm quite impressed. I shall do what I can to improve your quality of life."

She finds him hunched over a makeshift gun sight trying to bore sight the quad .50 caliber Ma Deuces that are housed in the nose nacelle.

"Want to talk about it, Bomber?" She knows things aren't going well for the couple and while not terribly torn by the prospects of a breakup, likes the man enough to want him to be happy.

"Nope." She gives his shoulder an understanding squeeze and turns when, "She's changed since we got here. She's different. Cold, critical and seems jealous of anything the Doc or anyone else does that infringes on her 'perceived' role. I just don't understand her, Dawn."

"Maybe this is how she reacts to – "

"I've moved out. Housing is scrounging something up near the field so I won't have far to commute." Dawn was quiet. She'd learned long ago to let emotional situations evolve on their own and deal with the operational practicalities as it affected her job. Here, however, was a man she found herself thinking about more and more. So she broke her rule.

"Maybe who you thought she was - was merely a product of the situation you were all in. People react to stress and life-threatening situations in different ways. Look at the Doc. From what I've heard, he is hardly recognizable from who he was at CalTech."

They were both kneeling under the instrument panel and their lips were mere inches apart but neither was willing to give in to 'the moment'. She was very attracted to Bomber. He was a very professional flyer, all business when he was on any aircraft, but she liked the joking Hideki that came out when he was on terra firma. She could feel his eyes on her and she didn't want to ruin the moment.

But she did. With a sigh, she regained her footing and climbed down out of the hatch and dropped to the ground.

There would be other 'moments' after he'd formally severed his relationship with Winkle. She was patient and a planner by nature. Impatience at 20,000 feet was not a virtue. She was right this minute rearranging drawer space and in the small one-bedroom cottage she occupied near the airfield.

Island Canteen
(Formerly Ryan's)

Penny reached over and took a small bowl of peaches and set it on her husband's tray. From past experience, she knew Sheldon was avoiding using his hands to pick up small objects. He said it was probably leftover problems from his crash. His hands shook more now than when he flew the hangar queen into Island International. She was concerned about his stress levels and about his (for him) erratic sleep patterns and was going to talk to Dr. Green when she could do so privately.

"Penny, I spoke with Wyatt. Sam's visit really perked up his spirits. I believe he'll be walking around and feeling much better soon. He's more his old self today than ever since his relapse. He said there were older pre-modern medicine that Sam was researching."

"I know, Shel. Mom came over and filled me in. She was so hopeful. I just hope this isn't a pipe dream."

"I doubt very much if Dr. Green imbibes opium in any form."

"Sheldon, he's a doctor!" She hurriedly looked around since her voice carried when startled.

"Pipe dreams derive from the Chinese practice of smoking opium in pipes in special businesses. The wild thoughts and hallucinations caused similar actions to be referred to as 'pipe dreams'."

Life with Sheldon was a constant learning experience.