Aside from a couple of brief rest stops on deserted country roads, Ursula drove steadily north until they reached the tiny community of Rockland, Wisconsin. Population 412. Otto directed her to a sideroad that snaked back into a forested area. Three miles down that road was the cabin when Brehmer had spent several days recuperating after his dip in Lake Superior two years ago. Jurgen remembered it well. A nice place to go hunting under normal circumstances. There was a heavy layer of snow on the ground, and one wouldn't get far in those woods without snowshoes or skies now.

They had made only two very brief rest stops on the trip north, picking places where no one might glimpse the truck's passengers, and Otto had watched Kathryn and Brehmer very closely on those occasions, with one hand in his pocket. That hand had no doubt been resting on his luger, ready to shoot if necessary. Kathryn had thought fleetingly of escape, but there was no possibility of succeeding, so she had not tried anything. Mostly she just remained silent.

Otto set the others about starting a fire, and brewing up some hot tea, because the cabin was very cold. He went back out to talk to Ursula.

"Will you leave now," he asked.

"In a couple of hours," she said. "I'll just take a look at the forest and rest for a bit...I like the forest. Then I'll go back under cover of darkness."

"What about the truck? Can they trace it?"

"I doubt it," replied Ursula, "because I have put a different set of plates on it, and there are many of these same trucks. I shall abandon it in Chicago, in a place where it won't be found too soon, and then I'll get to work."

"I don't feel good about this...being left out of the loop, as they say," complained Otto. What if you get killed or something? How will I even know?"

"You'll know if you don't hear from me every three days," said Ursula, "and don't pretend it's because you care," she added tartly. "I know what is bothering you, Otto. You simply can't stand not being number one."

"Humph!" he snorted. "And what about you? I suppose you don't care in the least about such things?"

"I care about my duty," she said sharply. "Frankly, Otto, you have been incompetent lately. I can't rely on you. Neither can I rely on Martin or Brehmer, and Bruno is an ox. I don't happen to need an ox right now."

"How dare you accuse me of incompetence!" flared Otto, his face turning red, and his fists clenching.

"First you involved those monkeys," snapped Ursula. "That was foolish. They didn't get us much, except a lot of trouble. Then you didn't think to warn them against getting contaminated and they died! Now there are many of their heathen comrades out looking for us, and they have some interesting abilities that people do not, even though they are subhuman things. You then disposed of the bodies in an incompetent fashion, and they were found! You then lost your judgement utterly and blurted out something about it in front of that girl of Brehmer's in her shop, and involved her in this! All totally unnecessary! You astonish me. You are not fit for command, Otto."

Otto gasped and glared at her speechlessly, grinding his teeth. He envisioned shooting her down where she stood...a lovely fantasy. Ursula calmly smoked her cigarette and stared him down for a minute or so.

"However," she said, "you are still in command of this little cell, Otto...under my command, that is. I need you to hold it together. Eventually the girl will have to be disposed of, but for the time being I advise you to treat her well...but watch her and Brehmer! You don't need me to tell you that, do you?"

Otto shook his head mutely.

"You wonder why I say 'treat her well'? Because if you do, Brehmer will be much more useful and cooperative. I recommend you treat him well too. Act like we are all making the best of a very difficult situation."

"And what about Martin?" asked Otto at last. "I think he is becoming unreliable as regards Brehmer."

"So do I," agreed Ursula, "but Martin is not about to change sides...nor is Brehmer. They are patriots. That is why I say: treat the girl and Brehmer well. But don't overdo it! Then they will suspect the worst. Just be even-handed, that's all. Can you do it?"

"Yes, damn it! I can do it," swore Otto petulantly. "I can do much better than you think, Ursula!"

"I hope that is true, Otto," said Ursula. "I really do. Because unless we both do very well indeed we are going to end up dead quite soon. And no one will even remember our names."

Otto felt the chill wind playing over them, winding its way through the trees that stood dark around the cabin, and shivered. He smelled wood smoke.

"Let's go inside," he said, and he turned toward the cabin. Ursula took one last breath of the deep pine forest and followed him in to the light and warmth.

Martin had brewed tea. You could always depend on Martin. "You'll make someone a fine wife someday, Martin," quipped Ursula.

Martin chuckled. "Why thank you, Madame Commandant! I look forward to that with great anticipation, I can assure you. After the war I shall marry in the most lavish way humanly possible, with dancers and a Mexican band, and you, Ursula, you shall dress in full uniform and be my 'best man'. What do you say?"

"Ha!" she scoffed. "I'll tell you this, Martin. If we are still both alive when it's done, I'll do anything you say." she answered. "Even that."

"Excellent," exclaimed Martin. "Here's to survival, ladies and gentlemen...and an early Spring. Hot drinks all around."

"Here's to victory!" said Ursula, raising her mug, and the others joined in with her toast...but Brehmer hesitated, when he saw the conflicted look in Kathryn's eyes, and lowered his mug. Their victory could not possibly be hers, and he would sooner or later have to choose...one or the other.

"Perhaps life is not about victory at all," he thought. "Perhaps it is about something else entirely...something much finer and more enduring than what people call 'victory'."

- LH