A/N: This is for Kev. She kicked my recalcitrant muse up the arse well and good today. Cheers babe, couldn't have done this without you. I know this started off in jest, but it's about to take a turn towards my usual style of angst, chaos and mayhem. Slaps hand Must stop watching squad movies and Ultimate Force.

The conflict in the following chapters is fiction. The country in question has suffered in the past from civil war, and after a little background reading, I realized that it could easily spark up again. The Red Cross and Medecins Sans Frontieres are real organizations who do sterling work in hostile environments, everything else is from the depths of my dark imagination.

Lastly, thank you to everyone who has reviewed this story so far. Glad so many of you like it.

Let Sleeping Tank's Lie – A Cautionary Tale

Chapter 5

"Fuck, do you two see that?"

"What?"

"There, on the horizon," Lester pointed.

"Shit," Bobby responded as he reached for his Glock.

Lester put his hand on Bobby's arm. "Put it away, I don't think it's a threat – more like salvation hopefully."

The three men looked down at the small Red Cross centre in the bottom of the next valley. A sea of tents had sprung up around a medium sized wooden shack and a couple of white Land Rover's emblazoned with the Red Cross' insignia were parked up to one side.

"Think we can get a lift into town?" Bobby quizzed as he slid his Glock away.

"Fuck that," Zero announced. "We can try and get some decent clothes and get rid of my tiara. Sound like a plan, guys?"

Lester ran his hands through his long, sweat soaked hair. "We put the weapons away and walk in in a calm manner, asking for the person in charge. Beyond that, we play it by ear."

The other two guys nodded, shouldered their bags and they set off down the long sloping sand dune towards the small oasis and medical facility.

The first thing they noticed was the sound, or lack of it. Over a hundred people were huddled under flimsy canvas structures in the mid afternoon heat, but they seemed too weak to talk let alone move. Even the children that they could see where subdued.

"Where the fuck are we?" Zero whispered.

Lester shrugged. "Pick a third world hell hole that's suffered from years of civil war and I think you'll be getting pretty warm, but beyond that, your guess is as good as mine."

Bobby looked at the mass of people and swallowed a mouthful of bile. One of the things he hated most as a medic in the army was the suffering of innocent civilians. What made it worse was that most of the time he was helpless, and unable to do anything about the situation. Amongst the malnourished he could see people of all ages with limbs missing – most likely from landlines. He detested those accursed things, they hurt more innocent people than the enemy; it wasn't like a landmine could tell if it was an adversary or a child standing on it.

Lester pushed forward through the camp towards the poorly constructed building, when suddenly a tall, thin woman in her ealry thirties, in dark green scrubs strode out the door and headed straight at them. "Arret! Qui êtes-vous ?"

The three men stopped in their tracks and held up their hands in the universal gesture of surrender.

"Pardon madame, nous sommes perdus. Pouvez-vous aider ?" Zero spoke up from behind the other two guys.

She looked at them quizzically and tossed her long black braid of hair over her shoulder. "American?"

Lester nodded. "Oui, vous parlez anglais?"

"Yes. What are you doing here?"

Lester bit back a smile, least their pink attire wasn't fazing her. "Military training exercise, we got lost and need to get to the nearest embassy so we can get picked up again by our unit. Do you have a phone we can use?"

"Radio. And there are no American embassy in Angola. You sure you are in the army?" She crossed her arms over her chest and gave them a stern glare.

Well, at least they knew where they were now, Lester mused. Shame about the lack of embassies, but they could work around that. He turned on the charm. "Special Ops, madam. Could you be so kind as to let us use your radio? We won't take up any more of your valuable time than necessary."

The woman blinked; it was like some sort of spell was lifted. She waved her hand in their general direction. "What is with the clothes? Maybe you are mercenary, for the opposition. "

Shit, they had no I.D. Lester held his hands up again. "No, we are American. We have no I.D or papers; we are on a training exercise."

She raised an eyebrow. "Maybe you lose your Gay Pride march, no?"

Zero glared and Bobby rolled his eyes, while Lester tried the charm offensive one more time and held out his hand. "Lester Santos, ma'am. Please, your radio. We need to check in."

"Sacha Blanchard, doctor for Medecins Sans Frontieres," she replied as she shook his hand swiftly. "You may use the radio in my office."

Lester smiled his most blinding smile. "Thank you. Sacha, that is such a pretty name."

"It means defender or helper of the people, and you, Lester Santos are a rouge and I do not trust you or your men. You use radio, then you go"

"Since when did Les end up in charge," Zero bitched.

Bobby flicked his ear, and Zero hissed and batted his hand away.

"He'll be in charge until you develop some brain cells, Z. Which, by all accounts, could be a long time," Bobby gritted out. "I need to go with Lester to deal with the radio, so you stand guard outside the door. Yell if we have any problems."

Zero snapped a mock salute and watched as Bobby, Lester and Sacha went inside the ramshackle building. He leant up against the door jamb and rested his hand on his Glock to ease his nerves. Its touch soothed him slightly, and he let out a long breath.

This whole set up sucked, he decided. What he wouldn't give for a long, hot shower, a pair of comfy sweats and a bottle of Bud. Movement to his left jarred him from his musings. A young boy of about eight, leaning heavily on a crutch and with one leg missing just below the knee made his way over to him slowly.

"Olá!" the little boy said as he held out his free hand to shake.

Zero shook his hand and smiled. "Olá."

"Que é seu nome?"

Zero looked puzzled, so the boy repeated himself.

"Name? Oh, Zero. What about you?" he said as he pointed at him.

The young boy tapped himself on the chest. "Carlos."

Zero ruffled the youngster's hair. "That's a good, strong name you got there, kid."

French & Portuguese Translations – Courtesy of Babel fish

Arret! Qui êtes-vous ? – Stop! Who are you?

Pardon madame, nous sommes perdus. Pouvez-vous aider ?" – Excuse me madam, we are lost. Can you help?

Oui, vous parlez anglais? – Yes, do you speak English?

Que é seu nome? – What is your name?