A/N: Hello! Thank you, everyone, for those reviews! This chapter has been updated- things took a different direction in the next chapter than planned so I combined some of it here. Also, to 'Guest'- could you please be more specific? I have no idea what you're implying. But enough about technicalities- enjoy!

There was a tiny alcove that Carter had braced as best he could with what was available. Sitting on a small table in the middle of the space was the black box with its top flipped up. The men crowded around the amateur chemist as he flexed the long set of tongs.

"Now, no promises if something still happens," he warned. The others nodded in understanding and Carter took a deep breath. Slowly, the tongs moved forward to grip the head of the box. One side touched the back, the other was braced over the first button.

"Here goes." Everyone cringed as he slowly applied pressure.

A high-pitched whirring noise filled the tunnel.

"What's that?"

"I don't know!"

"Turn it off, now," Hogan instructed sternly. Carter complied and, after a brief echo, silence returned.

"Think it's a homing beacon?" Kinch asked, catching on.

"I'm not sure, but I don't want to the take chance of Klink or the Gestapo picking it up." He moved closer and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Carter. "And the other buttons?"

They tested them, but nothing seemed to happen. After deeming that at the very least it wouldn't explode, they crept forward and examined it more closely.

Kinch sighed. "Well, if it is a radio, it's not like any one I've seen."

"Me neither," Hogan said. He glanced at his watch; it was almost evening roll call. "Well, gentlemen, I expect we'd better get back before we're missed. Carter, you can take that thing out of its area since it won't explode."

"You got it boy! Colonel!"

As the men filed past each other Hogan caught Newkirk's shoulder and casually drew him aside. "Newkirk," he began. "Our two friends are planning a little adventure into Klink's safe- would you mind keeping an eye on them?"

The Englander shrugged in consideration. "Well, someone's got to keep the competition under control. Can't have anyone uppin' me'reputation."

Hogan grinned. "Great."

The night was cold and Spock was having trouble with it. Normally he could handle extreme temperatures pretty well, but after days of cold combined with a poor prison diet (where most of the nutrients came from meat, unfortunately) he was wearing thin. He stuck it out stoically, however, and they would only be outside for a moment.

Even the moon looked cold.

Kirk waited out in the office to keep watch while Spock slipped inside Klink's. He knelt down next to the large safe, removed his hat, and pressed his sensitive ear against the metal. It burned cold, but only for a moment. Quickly, he spun the dial and listened for the tiny tell-tale clicks.

He was inside in a flash.

The tricorder was not there. Spock frowned. It was… disappointing. Without it they could not accurately judge when McCoy would arrive nor what he would do. Resigned (though not admitting it) he closed the safe and retreated back to Kirk.

They were nearly out the door when Kirk pointed out that he'd left his hat in Klink's office.

An embarrassing error, should he feel embarrassment. He trudged back inside to where it was laying on the floor by the safe.

Except, there was a man next to it.

Spock froze. The man froze. They stared at each other for several moments in the dark.

Spock reacted first. He pointed at the ground. "I am here to collect my hat."

The man… he recognized him as one of the few who stayed close to Colonel Hogan. He was British, Spock knew that much. Newkirk was his name, that was it. The man glanced down to the hat and tossed it to him.

"There ya go, mate, lovely night for some safe-cracking, huh?"

"It would appear so."

"Find anything good?"

"Negative."

"Shame," the man whistled. A few more twists on the safe and it popped open. Newkirk shook his head. "Cor, you're right. Bloomin' shame." He shut the door, then hopped up and opened the cigar box on Klink's desk. "You take one of these yet?"

"I do not smoke."

Newkirk's eyes bugged in the moonlight. "Why the bloody hell not?"

"It is cancerous."

He waved him off. "That's an old wives' tale."

"It is not old wives telling the tale."

Newkirk paused. "That's… mate, that's not exactly how it works."

"That is where the phrase originates."

"Well, yeah, I suppose, but, blimey, 'ave you got no sense of humor?"

"You were making a joke?"

"Well, no!"

"Then why am I expected to react humorously?"

"Who's asking you to-" Newkirk stopped and blinked. "I lost track of the ruddy conversation."

"Ah. Then we are done here?"

"I suppose."

"In that case, good night." Spock turned and exited through the door, leaving Newkirk standing in the dark with his cigar.

"Blimey, he's a weird one!"

Hogan shushed Newkirk as he closed the door to his office. It was still late in the night. The Englander blew on his hands and rubbed them briskly together as Hogan clicked on the desk lamp.

"Grayson?"

"Yeah. As grave as a tombstone. Takes everything literally."

Hogan chuckled. "Someone has to, I suppose. The contents inside are undisturbed?"

Newkirk nodded.

"Good. In that case get some rest- I want to go over mission details right after roll call. We're going to stop thinking about Grayson and Kirk for this, okay?"

"Yes, Colonel." Newkirk turned to leave but frowned suddenly. He shook his head once like he couldn't quite figure something out. "Though he got into that safe right quick an' I didn't see no stethoscope, neither."

"Getting too close to your ego?"

Newkirk considered. "Just a little."

Hogan clapped his shoulder. "In war, we must bear the reality of close-calls."

Kirk lay on his back with his hands laced over his chest, staring at the bunk above him. Losing the tricorder was a huge blow, but it was getting to the point where they would have to move on from it. His brain stirred with possibilities. If McCoy appeared where they did. If McCoy appeared in outer Mongolia. If McCoy stumbled into this very camp. If McCoy was shot by a Nazi patrol. If McCoy changed history too soon. If they changed history, the tricorder was missing, contamination was real-

What if he asked Hogan? Kirk almost sat up. The man knew more about this camp than he let on. Spock had told him all about running into that Newkirk fellow when he retrieved his hat. What need did he have to break into Klink's safe? How had he gotten inside so quickly without Spock hearing?

For a prisoner to have snuck into the station and rifled through our clothes they would have required considerable stealth.

Spock hadn't said it was impossible, just that it would take great stealth. Newkirk seemed to fit the bill, and Kirk bet he worked for Hogan. A direct approach may provide some answers. Something else was going on here, something that would definitely go down in history. He read about Hogan in school, now he was sure of it. If Spock's theory was correct, if McCoy appeared where they did… if McCoy stumbled into this very camp… if McCoy was shot…

And the loop continued.

"Diiiiiiissssmiiiiiiiiseed!"

The men grumbled and scrunched up their shoulders against the cold as they dispersed. A light drizzle had been present all day, not helping anyone's health nor attitude. Due to the dreariness most were trying to file back into their barracks, but Kirk fought against the tide and crossed over to Barracks 2 with Spock in tow.

He caught Hogan's arm, but had the feeling that the colonel could tell he was coming. "We need to talk."

"I'm a little busy," he answered.

"Doing what?"

Hogan's dark eyes looked him up and down as the water ran off the brim of his hat. "Business," he said vaguely. His voice was edged with a hint of dark awareness lurking in the background. "But I can make an appointment."

"You can't spare the time of day for a fellow American?" Kirk stated flatly.

"It's almost 7 AM," he answered without glancing at his watch.

"Thanks." Kirk opened his mouth again but hesitated, evaluating the man. Hogan stared back at him, waiting.

"I know you're up to something here," he hinted charismatically. "I'd like to be a part of it."

Hogan didn't react for a moment. When he did, it was as if a switch had been flipped off. He shrugged and grabbed the handle to Barracks 2. "My assistant will stop by with your application."

When the door closed, Kirk stood staring at it for some time. Finally, he turned and noticed Spock still next to him, shivering slightly. "Mr. Spock, your loyalty will ensure that you'll catch your death."

"Understood, Captain."

Kirk shook his head and guided the frozen Vulcan back to their barracks. "I can't have you sick or dead, Spock, so next time return to the barracks with everyone else, alright? This wasn't that big of deal."

"He doesn't trust you, Captain."

"No, no he doesn't," Kirk admitted. "But nor should he. What would you think if two strangers just suddenly showed up with a flimsy story and some unknown, ulterior motives?"

Spock did not reply.

For a brief moment, Hogan thought his perfect exit indoors would be fouled by all his men pressed against it, listening. They scurried out of the way, however, and when he shut the door he motioned for someone to watch out the window to make sure their friends returned to Barracks 3. When the two finally moved off, he returned his attention to the matter at hand.

"The factory," he began, pulling out a map of the surrounding area like a shade from under a bunk. "Has one road in and one road out along here. To the southwest, there is a fence that borders the woods. That's our best option to enter."

Newkirk raised his hand. "Is it electrified, Colonel?"

He shook his head. "No. Some wire cutters should be all we need. LeBeau, Carter-" The men perked up. "Tonight will be recon. I want you to make sure that the supports here and here," he pointed out the different spots across the rough drawing. "Are enough to bring the roof down if they go. If this was an ammunition plant a few grenades could send the whole place up in smoke, but for now the invitation reads 'bring your own bombs'."

"Oh, we're good on dynamite, boy! I mean, Colonel." Carter twitched happily in his seat.

"Recon only, Carter. If a few blasts won't take them down we'll have to find another way."

"But what if we just used more dynamite?"

Hogan paused and settled his hand on the young sergeant's shoulder. "That's why you're going to go investigate, Carter. You know how a building will behave once it's blown up- I don't want the roof to pop up only to fall back down in place. If more dynamite will do the trick, then that's what we'll do. But I'm concerned about the placement. We've encountered similar buildings before and this has worked, but the supports might be a bit stronger in a factory this size. Got it?"

Carter processed his words for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, I got it." He frowned. "The rafters might need to go, too."

"Exactly," Hogan grinned. "So, you and LeBeau will scope it out tonight. Learn what you need to, then report back. We'll fine-tune once we have more accurate intel."

The map-shade zipped back up and the men began to disperse. "Colonel," Kinch approached. They paused near the edge of the bunk as LeBeau shuffled past to make coffee. "What did Kirk want outside?"

Hogan exhaled. "He's sniffing a little too closely for my taste. Wants to talk, but I want to get this factory job over with first, what with London breathing down our necks." He paused in zipping up his jacket, reflecting for a moment. "They still haven't made any move to escape?"

Kinch shifted his stance to lean against the corner post. "No, but after the failed find in Klink's safe I think they're ready to give up on that route. It won't be long now before they try something."

"No it won't," Hogan considered. He snapped his fingers. "Newkirk," he turned. "You think you can hide Klink's helmet in somebody's footlocker?"

The Englander chuckled. "Of course, but he won't like it."

"That's what we want. I imagine a stunt like that would land someone about, oh, say ten days in the cooler?"

Newkirk paused. "Yeah, I'd say that's about right."

"Good. That should keep at least Kirk out of our hair until we're done with this mission." Hogan straightened languidly, the discussion coming to a close. "LeBeau, how's that coffee?"

The rain was gone the next day though heavy clouds still loomed overhead. Kirk stamped his feet. These were miserable conditions, and yet no one seemed too depressed by them. It was unusual, to say the least, but for now it didn't matter. With the rain gone he could enact his own designs on Barracks 2.

With Spock's hearing, they could definitely listen in on any conversations from a longer distance than customary. If Hogan wouldn't tell him what was going on, then he would find out for himself.

He rubbed his hands together and stamped his feet again. What was taking Klink so long? Didn't the commandant know he had work to do?

His angry thoughts were interrupted by hysterical caterwauling. "SCHUUUUULTZ!" Kirk snickered as Klink came running out on his spindly legs. "I want the barracks searched!" he hollered, never ceasing his flustered movements. "Somebody stole my helmet and I will not rest until it is found! Do you hear me? Guuaaaards, search the baraaaaacks!"

The prisoners scrambled back inside to stand at attention by each man's bunk. The stampede over the surprise inspection drowned out Schultz's stuttered reply. Kirk and Spock perfectly mimicked the other prisoner's stances and waited as the guards began tearing the place to shreds. Kirk didn't react until one of the guards shouted.

"Wir haben es gefunden!"

He reached and pulled out the helmet from- Kirk's stomach dropped. He hardly noticed Klink and Schultz barge through the door.

"You found it! Thank goodness! Where was it?"

The guard looked down. "Who's footlocker is this?" he raised his voice. "WHO'S-?"

"It's mine," Kirk said sharply. He eyed Klink. "Thought it'd make a good joke."

"Well, I don't find it funny!" the colonel declared. "Ten days in the cooler for your insubordination! Guards, take him away."

"Captain-"

"Not now, Spock," Kirk ordered. He could tell that the Vulcan was worried. "I'll sit this out and you'll keep listening." The last two words ended in a harsh whisper as two guards grabbed him by the elbows. "That's an order, Spock!"

The door banged shut behind them.

LeBeau twisted around from the sink periscope. "They're leading him away, Colonel. The plan worked beautifully!"

"Good." Hogan passed a pillow to Carter who gave it to Newkirk. "It's nice for once to put some problems on the back burner."

Newkirk propped a mattress back on the top bunk and a plume of dust exploded in his face. Coughing, he tried to bat it away. "Did it have to involve the barracks search, though?"

Hogan shrugged. "Look at it this way- for once we're not the guilty party."

Newkirk wrangled a blanket in his hands as he muttered. "Once, yeah, once… one bloomin' time out of a'hundred…"

As the men busied themselves with cleaning up the barracks, Hogan retreated to his quarters to straighten up. Carter and LeBeau had returned with positive news- Carter was bubbling about how he had just enough dynamite and, if wired right, could bring the entire building down, not just the roof. It wasn't what Hogan heard often, but akin to music when it did grace him. He already planned for the five of them to commence with planting the explosives tomorrow night, when it was the new moon. After that he could finally return his attention to Kirk, Grayson, and the box.

Kirk likely wouldn't be too happy that Hogan landed him in the cooler instead of meeting with him. Hogan paused in making his bed. Oh well. Such is the nature of the business- the mission came first. Yet he would make sure LeBeau would swing by with something filling for the stomach. For once, everything was going smoothly.

This would be a piece of cake.