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Yates, Benton, and Shuskin sat in the lounge of the Barley Mow, drinking pints of Newcastle Brown and saying little.

Shuskin was to return to her regiment the next day, and it had been revealed that Hayes had been behind the decision to place her in charge of UNIT Of course, the return of the Brigadier had rendered that decision null and void, but Mike Yates was relieved to hear that the command that had so angered him was, in itself, tainted by the conspiracy.

'Curious weather we are having.' Shuskin said to no one in particular.

'Yes.' replied Benton. 'Brass monkey's, isn't it? That was the English summer, that was. A week and a bit in June!'

Yates grunted something noncommittal into his pint and stared out of the window.

Benton stood. If you'll excuse me, sirs, I must see a man about a dog, if you know what I mean.'

Once he was gone a moody silence settled over the table. 'I think that you dislike me intensely,' said Shuskin eventually. 'I'm sorry?'

'So you should be.'

'What?'

'I am a competent soldier, am I not?'

Adequate,' said Yates, with a slight grin.

'And I am capable of making decisions?'

'I suppose so.'

'And you, Michael Alexander Raymond Yates, are a plank!' 'What?'

'A plank. It means -'

'I know what it means,' said Yates. 'It's just the stupidest insult I've ever heard.'

'You want worse?'

'No, plank'll do fine, thanks.'

Shuskin sipped her drink. 'Do you want to know what I think?' 'No, but I'm sure you're going to tell me.'

'I think you are a lonely man, Michael Yates. I think you are terrified of the pressure of command, but you cannot show this to anyone because you know they will think worse of you. I think you cover this up with sexist crap that would insult the intelligence of a four-year-old. I think you do not realise how lucky you are.'

'And how lucky am I?' asked Yates.

'Very lucky,' she said. 'You have many friends who care about you. This UNIT is like a family, protecting their own.

There is only one thing you really need and that is a good woman.'

'Know any?' queried Yates, without thinking. Then he remembered the party at Cambridge, and the bedroom, and he wished he'd kept his mouth shut.

'Sadly not.' she said, standing and picking up her gloves from the table. 'They are hard to come by, and harder still to keep. But I have a feeling you will find one, sooner rather than later.' She saluted him as he clumsily stood, almost knocking the drinks over. 'Goodbye, comrade Captain.' she said and turned to leave.

'I'll see you around, Captain.' said Yates with a smile, causing her to stop.

'You may indeed,' she responded. 'And that would be a pleasure for both of us.' Then she pushed open the pub door, and was gone.

Benton returned from the toilet just as Yates sat down again. 'Has Captain Shuskin gone?' he asked.

'Yes.' said Yates. Then he shook his head as if to clear it of dead thoughts. 'Right, we'd better be getting back to HQ.'

He paused. 'Business as usual.'

Thomas Bruce awoke, momentarily aware only of the sharp smell of antiseptic. His mouth still tasted of strong medicine and cheap liquor. Encased in crisp linen, Bruce felt safe and warm in his bed. He never wanted to get out of it again.

He had been hit by a stray piece of shrapnel in the early stages of the battle against the Waro. Collateral damage.

Lying in a pool of his own blood screaming for his mother, and for Jesus, and begging someone - anyone - to put him out of his misery. When he had been found several hours later by one of the emergency medical teams, he'd fainted with the pain when they lifted him into the helicopter.

As in his tortured dreams, there was an almost permanent presence in the shadows of his hospital room.

Sometimes it was somebody he knew, another badgeman from Control's stable. Sometimes it was just a faceless figure in a dark suit and sunglasses, reading the New York Times and ignoring Bruce's questions. Occasionally the man would blandly assure him that le was safe, that everything was taken care of, that he wasn't