CHAPTER 2

Petra arrived on the runway at a quarter to midnight, wearing her WAC uniform, and carrying a bag stuffed with her essentials. The rest, she decided, she would be leaving with her friends back in London. She didn't exactly know when, or really if she would be coming back to the air base, but she'd rather that they stayed somewhere safe than bring them around with her across Europe.

She shifted her weight from foot to foot nervously, realizing that she was the first one on the runway, where they had been scheduled to meet. It was a fairly quiet night, and though there were occasional planes passing above, none of them came. The air towers were probably bored out of their minds.

Silently, she reviewed the information that had been disclosed to her in the documents. They would be moving to Vichy, the capital of this so called "Free France," where they would be aiding the French resistance hiding about. Essentially, they would be working as the main link of communications between the several resisting movements and networks and London, where they would be reporting back on the french progress.

Petra sat down on the surprisingly warm tarmac, and buried her face into her knees, waiting for someone to come. As if answering to her call, she heard a hum coming from above, and jumped as she spotted a small aircraft making its way towards her. What was she thinking! She was on a damn runway!

Scrambling from her spot, she made way for the landing plane, which smoothly came down. She gazed at the plane, watching the pilot step out, whipping their helmet off of their face, revealing a man about the same age as Petra. He wore what seemed to be a permanently serious look, but as soon as he spotted the short girl, he broke into a grin. He walked over in a sort of jovial swagger, and held out his hand as soon as he reached her.

"Officer Ral, I take it?" she shook his hand, noting his scottish accent and his sandy blond undercut.

"Yes," she replied.

And though she didn't think it was possible, his grin became even wider, and he reached out to pinch her cheek. "What? They didn't tell me I'd be working with such a cute Yankee!"

She swatted his hand away, frowning back at him. "Don't pinch my cheeks, Officer."

He crossed his arms in front of his chest, smirking. "My name's Officer Auruo Bossard, and I'll be piloting the team around. Come," he grabbed her bags, and moved back towards his plane. At least he was a gentleman of some sorts.

It was a small german Siebel Fh 104 that could sit about five people which they would be using to fly around Europe. All of the British were aware of it not being piloted by a german, and it was decided that the wisest choice would be to fly around this plane so they wouldn't be shot down, essentially.

He let her sit in the cockpit, which was surprisingly comfortable. The window was opened up so that a light breeze passed through, and tickled Petra's face. It was such a nice night. Officer Bossard sat in the seat next to her, and they sat in pleasant silence. A sleepy spell was taking her over, when she heard a small sort of click of the tongue, as if it were a summon. Her eyes flipped open, and she noticed Bossard climbing out of the plane, biting his tongue in the process. She jumped out of the plane too, and noticed a small group that had gathered outside of their plane. In front of her stood one of the shortest men she had ever seen, but there was no denying who he was. The pride of France, Captain Levi Ackerman. He looked at the two officers, and waited until they stood in front of him saluting.

"At ease." In his hands he held a packet of files, and a bag was slung across his shoulder. She'd seen him in flyers and in the newspaper before, often times standing beside General de Gaulle, with whom he had came, or with Erwin Smith. Despite his short stature, he was strangely intimidating, and had a soldier's aura about him: emotionless, confident, passive yet alert.

He glanced at a piece of paper he held, snapping her out of her trance with the sudden movement, and watched as he held up the paper glancing at the both of them.

"Officer Bossard and Officer Ral." he nodded curtly at both of them, and Petra noticed his slight accent. A tall man stood behind him, and she noticed a third loading up bags into the plane.

"Officer Ral, you're new to what we do here. I hope that Erwin has briefed you on what we do." he started towards the plane, and got inside, with the rest of us trailing behind him.

"Really just the basics, Captain, but I'm fairly unaware of what it is we're going to be doing." Petra said, trying to keep up with his surprisingly fast pace.

"Quel blaireau." he cursed under his breath. He snapped back towards her, making her stop suddenly in place. "Bossard, start the plane, we're leaving now. Ral, you'll be briefed on our latest assignment by Captain-Lieutenant Gin from Norway on the plane."

And he boarded without another word.

They sat in the back of the plane while Bossard piloted them towards Free France. The fifth member of their team, a polish jew who escaped a year or two back and sought out to help the Allied forces, was yet another man by the name of Gunther Schulz. A fairly quiet man, it seemed, sat up front with Auruo.

"A great pilot." Gin noted, pointing towards the back of his head. "When he came to London, he was in a stolen German plane. Connected his radio, and spoke to us in impeccable english. Landed right before the outbreak of war, and joined the army. Next thing he knew, he was fighting along the british." he paused briefly. "Refuses to fly unless he has to however, and won't tell any of us why."

Petra had curled up into a ball, and covered herself with a quilt she had packed. "You have awfully good English for a norwegian. I figured that you would speak with an accent or something."

He let out a guffaw, and slapped her arm. "My mother was a Brit, and she took us back to England to visit my gram and gramps quite often. But tell me about yourself, an american?"

She smiled back at him. "Born and raised."

"Ah, I love americans. The Captain over there hates your accent however—nothing personal, of course."

Her eyes followed his finger over to the other side of the plane, where Captain Levi sat, fingering an unlit cigarette, with his back to them.

"He's a lot quieter than I thought he'd be." her voice had dropped to a whisper, fearing that he'd hear them, despite the loud din that surrounded them.

"I believe it's more of a 'I intimidate you until I decide that I like you' type personality. But he's a great captain, believe me. Hopefully you'll get to know him more during this mission."

"The mission?"

He slapped a hand against his forehead. "I've been talking so much I forgot to brief you. Our main goal once we land is to connect with a movement or network near Vichy. Afterwards, it's all up to General de Gaulle."

"That's about as much as Lieutenant General Smith told me." she snorted, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket.

She shuffled her hands around, and found a roll of M&Ms sitting in her pocket. They were slightly warm from being in there for so long, but chocolate was chocolate. She slipped a piece out, trying to minimize any noise she was making, and threw it into her mouth, savoring the sweet taste.

Then hesitantly, she took the entire roll out of her pocket, and motioned it towards Eld, whose eyes started to widen in disbelief.

"No way." he whispered. Petra nodded, and soundlessly poured some into his palm. He picked at the colorful pieces, then put them in his mouth, chewing, and swallowing.

"You're brilliant Ral… Ral, Petra? Petra, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"By all means, call me Erd, and nothing more formal than that will ever be necessary, especially when it comes from an angel like you."