A/N: Thank you, all, for those reviews! I've had a pretty good weekend for writing so got this up in next to no time (although some of you were already guessing next events, lol). Please enjoy!

"Well, Colonel?"

Hogan jerked his head. "Carter, watch the door."

"Right boy! I mean, Colonel." He hurried to the wooden plank and barely cracked it open, peering out across the compound.

"Do you think they're legitimate?" Kinch asked.

"I'm not sure," Hogan rubbed his hand under his chin. "It sounded like they were telling the truth, but also hiding something." He crossed his arms.

"Anything in particular?"

"The second one, Grayson, said his rank was 'Commander'. That's a naval term."

"The navy?" LeBeau exclaimed. "What are they doing here?"

"That's what I don't get," Hogan pointed out. "Kinch, radio London and try to get a mission report for the last, oh, 48 hours in the region. If they were shot down anywhere around here why weren't we notified?"

"On it." Carter suddenly turned around. "Newkirk's back." He opened the door and let the Englander in. Kinch paused on his way to the trapdoor to see what news he brought.

"What'd you find from their clothes?" Hogan inquired.

Newkirk shrugged. "Civilian, made in Germany, definitely from Hammelburg," he replied. "That much fits their narrative."

"But?"

Newkirk glanced at Carter who double-checked that it was clear outside. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a small black box with a long strap attached to it. "I pulled this from one of their coats. Never seen anything like it before."

They all crowded around the object; Hogan motioned for Kinch to return. LeBeau poked at it. "Is it a radio of some kind?"

Gingerly, Kinch lifted it up. Fiddling around, he suddenly flipped back the top part of the device. A few small buttons and a readout display sat on the metal. He moved to press one of the buttons, but Hogan's hands suddenly stopped him.

"We don't know if that's a bomb or something else just as dangerous," he cautioned. "Store it in the tunnel for now and we'll take a proper look at it when we have some safety protocols set up. In the meantime, I want nobody to mention anything about the operation around our new friends, got it? We still have some tests to run."

"You think they're spies, Colonel?" Carter asked from the door.

Hogan shook his head. "I'm not sure yet. Krauts normally give their informants airtight stories, and theirs have holes big enough to fly a plane through." He started pacing slowly across the room. "Captain Kirk and Commander Grayson… definitely sounds naval, though we haven't heard of any naval operations in this area, much less of anyone getting shot down. They steal civilian clothes… and all this time they're carrying some kind of black box." He stopped and shook his head. "We'll sound them out over the next few days. Kinch, try and get that info from London. The rest of you, the normal feelers. I want to know more about these guys."

Kirk met Spock behind the barracks, keeping an eye on the other prisoners playing anything from football to checkers. "Have you found it yet?" he asked quickly.

"Negative," Spock replied.

Kirk resisted the urge to punch something and roughly shoved his fists in his pockets. The uniform jacket was slightly big, but otherwise fit. Spock's wrists poked out just a half-inch further from his sleeves, but true to his word Hogan had provided a hat to cover his pointed ears. He was beginning to wish that he had asked for one as well; there was a bite in the air that never seemed to go away. It was their third day in the camp and he was getting more antsy by the hour. The random trivia from some of the prisoners didn't help, either, as he was almost certain they were testing the legitimacy of their tale. How could he possibly know the batting average of a 1940's baseball player? They needed to get out of here and quickly.

"Spock, we've got to find that tricorder or else we risk altering history as well!"

"I know, Captain."

"Not to mention that it holds the key to determining when and where McCoy will show up-"

"Jim." Spock's voice was clipped. "I am aware of the situation."

Kirk took a deep breath and faced his first officer. "I know," he exhaled. "My apologies, Spock."

"Unnecessary, Captain."

Forgiven, Kirk forged back on their train of thought. "We've already checked all the guards," he muttered, remembering their careful and quick investigations into the slack quarters. "Unless they've got a secret locker somewhere I'm actually ready to rule them out. Could a prisoner have taken it?"

Spock tilted his head. "For a prisoner to have snuck into the station and rifled through our clothes they would have required considerable stealth. I did not see nor hear anyone. Besides, there is also motive: for what reason would a prisoner need to raid strangers' personal affects?"

"Thief," Kirk suggested. "Or something bigger. Something's off about this camp, haven't you noticed?"

"Indeed." Spock faced back towards the compound. "Despite the poor performance of the guards and the commandant, there have apparently been no escapes. The prisoners do not even seem to be trying."

"And what does that tell you, Mr. Spock?"

The Vulcan considered the possibilities. "Either they are cowed in some fashion we have yet to learn about. There could be a greater, unspoken threat, for example. Or they are colluding with the enemy."

They looked at each other for a long moment. "Spock, I don't think that's the case," Kirk said at last.

"Intuition?"

"Maybe, partly." Kirk pushed away from the barracks and paced a couple steps away. "It's Robert Hogan. I know I've read about his name before, and if you're right that that cruiser is named after him then it would suggest that he's one of the good guys. Spock, you saw him successfully bribe Schultz- it's like he does it all the time! I think if we want to know exactly what's going on here we would find out from him."

Spock lifted an eyebrow. "If you are correct, then it may validate a temporal theory, Captain. It is estimated that time flows like a river, with various eddies, currents, and focal points of important historical events. If the colonel did indeed go down in history, it is possible that he is the focal point to which we were drawn."

Kirk's head snapped up. "And if we were drawn here, then do you think McCoy will be drawn here as well?"

"It is possible." Spock paused in reflection. "Of course, I cannot confirm any of these theories without the tricorder, nor without means to connect the tricorder to a computer to adequately slow down the recorded images."

Kirk put a hand on his shoulder as he picked up on the Vulcan equivalent of futile frustration. "One thing at a time, Spock. First we'll find the tricorder, then we'll worry about hooking it up. Now, there are hundreds of prisoners here- I'd hate to search every one. Is there anybody else who might possibly have it?"

"It is likely one of the guards could have turned it in to the commandant," Spock realized.

Kirk grinned. "Of course! Klink! Spock, I think we've got a plan."

LeBeau was "reading" in front of the barracks. His eyes continuously darted up from his book to take note of the activities before him. So far all was well- except there was no sign of Kirk or Grayson.

In the prior two days they had watched as duo carefully (and successfully) infiltrated the guards' barracks only to return empty-handed. Hogan had immediately deduced that they were searching for that same black box, which meant that it was important enough that they wouldn't escape without it. They stuck closely together, and didn't interact with any of the other prisoners, which made conversation difficult.

LeBeau returned to his book only to realize in disgust that it was upside-down. As he quickly flipped it, he noticed two figures emerge from around barracks 3. There they were. He watched them cross towards the kommandant's office and Grayson disappear behind it. Kirk leaned against the building, playing casual. Two moments later he could hear Klink shouting something from outside his quarters in the back. Kirk pushed off the wall and disappeared inside.

The Frenchman closed his book and went to go tell Hogan.

Kirk swiftly entered the outer office and froze. A beautiful, blonde woman sat at the desk. She wasn't there before. He was stunned for only a moment before putting on his legendary, charming smile.

"Hello," he said smoothly. "I don't believe we've met."

She rubbed her neck and glanced down briefly, a soft smile touching her lips. "No, I don't think so."

He walked over and gently kissed the top of her hand. "I'm Captain James T. Kirk."

She blushed and withdrew. "Hilda."

Kirk smiled again. "It's very nice to meet you, Hilda. Do you by any chance know if the commandant is in?"

"Well, he should be," she mentioned. She had a very smooth, melodic voice that vaguely reminded him of Uhura. "But there was a ruckus just a moment ago, so I do not know if that called him away or not."

"Well, how about I find out, is that okay, Hilda?"

"Of course," she blushed again. "Go right ahead."

Kirk winked at her and stepped carefully into Klink's office. Good. Spock was still keeping him distracted. Fast and efficient, he rifled through the desk drawers and filing cabinet. Nothing. No tricorder. There was a box on the desk but it was full of cigars. He wrinkled his nose in disgust, quickly shutting it. That's when he noticed the safe in the corner. If Klink had the tricorder it would no doubt be there.

Time was running out, however. He and Spock could probably sneak back in at night and crack it. He straightened everything quickly and pulled the door open back to the front office.

Directly across from him was Hogan entering from the outside.

They took in the sight of one another similarly as each man carefully shut his door. Hilda glanced between them and slowly scooted back in her chair.

Hogan spoke first. "Are you looking for something, Captain?"

Kirk jerked his head back the way he came. "Thought Klink was in."

The colonel didn't quite nod, but watched him openly with his dark eyes. "What did you need to see him for?"

Any lesser man may have been stuck, but Kirk wasn't captain of the Enterprise if he couldn't think on his feet. "There's sawdust in the bread."

Hogan's shoulders relaxed but Kirk still picked up the tension in his feet. He knew the man didn't trust him but Kirk would have to get close to him if he was going to figure out why he was so important in history. "All complaints go through me, first," Hogan informed.

He nodded and dipped his head. "My apologies; I'll remember that next time." He tried to sound earnest; he didn't want this man as an enemy. Of course, the behavior may just serve to confuse him further… man, this was a mess…

Kirk kept his hands to his side as he crossed to the outer door. He winked at Hilda, who did not quite blush this time, and stepped around Hogan. The man's face was unreadable, save for the almost audible sound of gears turning in his head. Kirk left quickly.

"Well, they definitely want that box."

Newkirk and LeBeau nodded. "When is Carter going to be ready with that thing?" LeBeau asked. "He's had plenty of time to set up a testing area."

"I don't want this rushed, LeBeau. A mystery device isn't worth someone's life just because we couldn't wait to establish a good containment system." Hogan picked up the pot and poured himself a cup of coffee. He didn't mention that he was also annoyed by Kirk's mild flirtation with Hilda- it rubbed at him in a sharper way than he'd expected.

"Colonel, why haven't we just, I dunno, asked them what it does?" Newkirk pondered. He deftly fiddled with two decks of cards as he spoke.

"I would if I believed they would tell me the truth." He took a long swig of the coffee and grimaced. "Until then we can reverse engineer this thing on our own."

The trapdoor swung open and Hogan motioned for LeBeau to watch the door. Kinch climbed up, a piece of paper in hand alongside his customary "Message from London, Colonel."

"About our friends?"

He shook his head. "'Fraid not. They say they haven't sent any missions our way in that timeframe Army or Naval, and so far haven't been able to produce any records of a Captain James T. Kirk or a Commander Spock Grayson. But while they were at it they did give us this." He passed the note to Hogan who read it with a furrowed brow.

"Of course they would," he muttered.

"Trouble, Colonel?" Newkirk stopped shuffling the cards.

"They want us to hit the ball-bearing factory outside Hammelburg." He crumpled the paper and pocketed it.

"Apparently their flyers are stretched thin at the moment," Kinch elaborated. "A bunch of missions got reorganized."

"And they want us to take out that bloody plant for them, marvelous," Newkirk rolled his eyes.

"At least we've got two weeks to do it." Hogan finished his coffee in one gulp.

"Yeah, two weeks for recon, getting and planting explosives…" LeBeau muttered by the door.

Kinch leaned against the bunk and after a moment snapped his fingers. "Oh, Colonel, Carter's about finished sealing off a section to one of the tunnels; he said you could come down to watch the first test of the box."

"Well, by all means-" Newkirk and LeBeau were already hurrying to the bunk, almost tripping over each other in their eagerness. Hogan shook his head, put down his mug, and followed his men down into the tunnels. Perhaps now they would at least get a few answers.