A/N: READ CHAPTER THREE FIRST. It has been UPDATED. This chapter had an added incident that I had not originally planned and so I combined it with the previous chapter since it was bothering me anyway. I hope y'all enjoy it.

Also, to Guest: Let me get some facts straight for you. ONE: this is not a collaboration of authors. I, Danzinora Switch, am solely writing this story. The IDEA comes from LittleMissSpitfire, whom has graciously granted me permission to follow through with the writing, as well as permission from CollieandShire. I fully acknowledge that the idea is not mine, as clearly stated in the description. Obviously the characters come from their respective shows.

TWO: Now that I have told you where the idea for this story has come from, I imagine you will stop accusing me of plagiarism. I DON'T read Hogan's Heroes on AO3, and I especially don't read crossovers there. Upon seeing your review I immediately looked up what you could possibly be referring to- closest guess is maybe "Star Heroes" by Baja_King? I only skimmed it today, but it seems to include a female OC and a different MacGuffin, to say the least. Let me be clear: ANY and ALL similarities between my story and what you have in mind are COINCIDENTAL. Which is surprisingly easy to due if one follows the same logical conclusions people should be making in this situation.

THREE: You are the only complaint I received about the dialogue in the previous chapter. Judging by the other reviews, most people had no trouble following along. Regardless, the chapter was bothering me anyway, and I had already made plans to revise it once I got a better handle on this one. If you would like to take a look, feel free. But I'll be frank: I don't write for "pats on the back". I write because I damn well happen to enjoy writing. I post my work, and it's cool that people review, but that's not why I do it. I don't go looking for favors.

If you would like to continue this conversation, I suggest you log in so we may discuss things in private, but if you insist on maintaining anonymity leaving me to reply out here in the open, then so be it.

Spock had gone straight to the commandant after Kirk was hauled away. He had intended for the conversation to proceed to the logical conclusion: that Kirk was innocent. It had not gone as expected.

"Sir, Captain Kirk is being framed."

"Oh? By who?"

"I believe Col. Hogan."

"Now that's ridiculous," Klink had scoffed. "Why would Hogan need to frame anybody? He knows not to take my stuff."

"Sir, Captain Kirk has never touched your helmet."

"Look, I know you're friends with him! Your ploys will not work on me!" The man had sounded almost gleeful. "Kirk will sit in the cooler for ten days and that is that! Diiismissed!"

So now Spock was standing outside of the infamous cooler pondering what to do. This predicament certainly jeopardized their mission. It was unlikely they could afford a ten day delay- McCoy was liable to appear anytime now.

A clang of metal shook him out of his reverie. The Frenchman- LeBeau was his name- was showing a covered dish to Schultz. He watched the two converse before the portly sergeant inevitably gave in. Spock raised an eyebrow. Another bribe.

Leaving Schultz to snack, Spock strode and quickly intercepted LeBeau before he entered the cooler. "What is in there?" he inquired gravely.

"Relax, it's just some food for Kirk." He lifted the lid to reveal a heartier-looking meal than Spock expected. He tried to move around him, but once again was blocked.

"Is it safe?"

LeBeau rolled his eyes. "Yes, it's safe. We're all on the same side here!"

"Are allies notorious for framing friends?"

The corporal shifted uneasily under the sharp gaze. "Well, Col. Hogan hopes this can double as apology food."

Spock took another look at the plate. It did indeed seem filling, and the captain would need his strength while incarcerated. It was also a positive sign that the colonel did not, at least, have anything too nefarious planned for them. Spock was getting the idea that if Hogan wanted them dead or forever removed, he could easily do so.

"Very well," he said, clipped. "I am sure he will accept the apology."

As LeBeau disappeared inside, Spock about-faced the compound. He had orders to follow.

Hogan had ordered everyone to silence while Grayson was on the prowl. Discussions concerning the mission would take place at night in the tunnel. The new moon had finally arrived and it seemed like it was also going to be a fairly clear night. As soon as the curfew hit, they piled down below ground and gathered the materials.

"Alright, let's move."

Silently, and in pairs, they slunk away from the tree trunk. Hogan had them wait two minutes between each pair before following. The night was a bit warmer, seeming to indicate that the cold snap they'd experienced was fading. Hogan didn't encounter any trouble, and before long the factory's fence rose before him.

He followed through the hole the others ahead of him had cut. Jogging up to the building, he thought he heard argued whispering. Disappointed that his men were so loud, he rounded the corner to confront them.

"If I was a kraut you'd be dead."

Carter and Newkirk jumped out of their skins. "Blimey, Colonel," the latter sighed, clutching his heart. "Don't do that."

"What's the problem?"

Newkirk huffed. "Tell him, Carter."

"Well, I uh," Carter shuffled sheepishly. "I was climbing up to place some of the dynamite, and well, I dropped the bundle."

"You dropped it?" Hogan instinctively looked around to confirm that nothing was exploding.

"Scared the bejeezus out of me too, lemme tell ya," Newkirk remarked. He pointed at a barrel labeled WASSER. "It landed in there."

"It could've been worse!" Carter contradicted.

Hogan stopped Newkirk from snapping back. "Carter, how much dynamite fell and how wet did they get?"

Carter stopped trying to defend himself. "Well… most of what I had… but Louie, Kinch and all still have theirs… you've got yours… pretty wet."

"Is that still enough to bring this place down?"

His shoulders slumped and he shook his head. "We'd be stretched pretty thin."

Hogan quieted. The two men waited and occasionally glanced at each other. Newkirk decided to clear his throat. "Is the mission aborted, sir?"

"No." He paced slowly. "Newkirk, finish putting your dynamite in Carter's spots. Carter, find Kinch and LeBeau and tell them not to wire the dynamite to detonator yet. Some of us will come back tomorrow night when this has dried and finish it."

"Right, Colonel!"

"Right-o."

Hogan opened his pack and also got to work. He should've known. These things were never like a piece of cake.

Kirk stared at the grey ceiling. And grey walls. And grey floors. He was getting sick of grey. Three days in this cell and he was already going stir crazy. No way was he going to make it to ten.

Having a restless soul also made it worse. He had already figured out five different ways to escape, but the second part always stopped him from following through: where would he go? Was he going to escape out of this cell to be free in a prison camp? Besides, Klink would probably just sentence him longer and he couldn't handle that.

He settled back on his bunk and listened to his brain thud against his skull. He. Was so. Bored. So. Bored. So. Bored. Wait, that thumping wasn't just his brain. Slowly, Kirk sat up and looked around. The thumping continued. The window! Kirk pounded his fist twice on the wall below it and stood up on his bunk to look through the bars.

Spock's face was a blessing to see.

"Spock," he grinned in relief. "How are things on the outside?"

"Unknown, Captain. Hogan and his men have been abnormally tight-lipped." Spock shifted slightly and Kirk craned to see what he was standing on. A crate? A barrel?

"So you know nothing, then?" he clarified.

"About as much as Sergeant Schultz, sir."

Kirk sighed and rested his head against the bars. His brow furrowed before he abruptly snapped his head back up. "More silent than usual, you said? Spock- do you suppose something's going down that we don't know about?"

Spock mulled it over. "It is certainly a possibility, Captain. Perhaps they believed you to be hindrance and removed you from the equation."

"In which case, no hard feelings," Kirk finished. "That'd better be it, Spock, for why else would they jail me then clam up even in private?"

"They could be plotting further against you, or perhaps against me, or-"

Kirk waved him off. "Spock, I'm trusting my gut on this one." He sighed. At least this promised to truly be temporary. "What about McCoy?"

The news was not promising. "He could already be here."

"And he doesn't know any more German than you or I?"

"I do not believe so," Spock said quietly.

Kirk sighed. "Alright, Spock." He smiled warmly. "Thanks for visiting me."

"I believe I have figured out Corporal LeBeau's method of bribery and, if my efforts are successful, I will be able to visit you inside momentarily," Spock observed.

"Thanks; it gets very boring in here."

Spock raised an eyebrow as he viewed the room and nodded solemnly. "I imagine to a human it would."

"Really, Spock?"

Newkirk and Kinch darted through the night. A tiny sliver of the moon was barely visible. The woods were quiet as they hurried along.

"Why did we have to get assigned to go, Carter's the one who ruddy mucked it up!"

A nearby owl was startled by the grumbling. Kinch shushed him furiously. "Quit complaining."

The factory returned to view. Both of them prayed no one had discovered the hidden explosives. They hadn't heard anything all day from Hammelburg, but one could never be sure…

They were in the clear. Kinch hoisted Newkirk up to finish planting the dynamite. They ran around with ease, expertly ducking from the odd guard on watch. Before too long they were running back towards the fence stringing along a wire to the detonator.

Crouching down a slope below it, Kinch handed Newkirk the detonator. "Want the privilege?"

"No, mate, I'll let you do the honors."

Kinch grinned, his teeth glowing brightly in the night. He pushed on the plunger.

BOOM!

The factory erupted in a pyrotechnic display. The night was painted orange as flames and rubble leapt into the sky. A siren slowly started wailing as the building toppled. The ground shook as a few delayed sticks of dynamite exploded. The noise was just as frightening as the visual. Shouts were heard as the guards tried to respond to the massive explosion. The siren increased in volume.

Newkirk thumped Kinch's arm. "Mate, let's get-"

"Assassins!"

Newkirk snapped around mid-sentence. "What was that?"

"Murderers! Assassins!"

"It's English," Kinch gaped.

They ducked lower as a man suddenly stumbled into view. The glow from the fire danced hellish shadows across his features, and he walked without direction. His clothes were solid colors with a strange emblem over the left breast. He seemed simultaneously haggard and delirious. "Murderers!"

"His yelling's gonna bring the patrols down on us!" Newkirk hissed.

Kinch waited until the man was closer then shot his hand out and grabbed his ankle. The man screamed as he was yanked down the slope and struggled violently. "No! No! I won't let you get me!"

Newkirk clapped his hand over his mouth. "If you don't shut up they will get us!"

For some reason it did the trick because the man's blue eyes widened into bloodshot saucers. When Newkirk felt it was safe to remove his hand the man spoke quietly, reaching trembling fingers towards him.

"I'm glad you got away, too," he whispered. "Why do you think they want to kill us?"

Newkirk, taken aback, shrugged in frustration. "Because it's war, mate."

The siren and crackling fire filtered in for a moment. Kinch jerked. "Move. Now."

They pelted through the woods as the sound of German and barking grew louder. The strange man looked older than both of them, but had no trouble keeping up. Kinch figured his adrenalized wildness was a big contributor, but for now worried about getting as far away as possible. At the halfway point he decided they needed to stop going for distance and start with evasion. They'd left a reckless trail in their wake.

Newkirk panted, taking a quick breather. The man stumbled away and leaned against a tree. A hand was clutching his heart as a grimace passed over his face.

Newkirk nodded at him. "Is he alright?"

"I don't know."

"I hope it's not a heart attack, wouldn't that be our luck?"

Kinch gulped in some air before replying. The night was quieting down- the sounds of chaos had fortunately not followed them. He looked at the stranger. "What do we do with him?"

"I don't follow."

"Do we… take him… back to camp?" Kinch enunciated softly. He sucked in a last bit of air.

Newkirk blinked at him, aghast. "Kinch, where else is he gonna go? In his state?"

"Newkirk, we don't even know where he came from."

"Well, he's clearly American-"

"I'm not saying no, I'm just-"

"Where, where are we?"

Both men turned to where the stranger sagged by the tree, face turned upwards towards the sky. He continued muttering to himself. "Constellations seem right… but how?" He panted some more as his gaze drifted to the tree bark by his face. "Looks almost real… modern museum perfection…" The man squinted at them in the dark. "Bipeds… human? Human ancestry? How am I here?"

"He's a loon," Newkirk declared.

"Or drugged." Kinch furrowed his brow. "He was talking about getting away…" He trailed off as the implications began churning through his mind.

"From the Gestapo, perhaps?" Newkirk wondered quietly.

The silence felt oppressive. If they had a Gestapo escapee, if the Gestapo was testing new drugs on their prisoners…

"Maybe." Kinch glanced at his watch. They still hadn't heard anything, but he didn't want to take any chances on being followed, especially when he swore there were dogs back at the factory. Hogan would know what to do about this. "Break time's over. Let's move!"

They started up again, this time not as swiftly. The man was breathing harder and harder, despite the rush they had witnessed earlier. Newkirk drew closer. "Mate, are you alright?"

"I would give a lot to see the hospital…" He raggedly gasped. "With-" Another grimace flashed across his face again. "Oh the pain… they… terrible, terrible pain…" His running legs suddenly wobbled and he pitched forward in a sprawl. Newkirk hollered for Kinch and grabbed one of his arms.

"What happened?" Kinch backtracked urgently.

"I dunno, he just suddenly collapsed, I think he is drugged or something." They slung his arms over their shoulders and hauled him up. Dead leaves stuck to the front of his shirt. "How much farther to camp?"

"About another half mile- you got him?"

"Yeah, I got him; go."

As they started forward again with a renewed sense of emergency, neither man noticed the small, black object left behind in the shadows of the forest.