I sit in class, wondering if the Army is joking. Maybe it's that the knowledge of long distance road transport is considered so important that they're baby stepping us, or maybe this test was derived from the enlisted tests, which were designed for people who may have only had a high school education.

Whatever the case, I'm looking down at a completed score sheet, and there's still over an hour left on our test time. Hell, maybe I missed something, so I go back to the beginning, and start re-reading the test again, checking what I would answer against what I marked on the test. Nope... no, this is just an easy test.

Screw it, it's early enough that I might be able to send some e-mail to Simon, or give Dad and Mom a call, I haven't left the Ft. Lee Lodge enough over the past few weekends to get back home to see them. I head up to the front of the room to drop off my test, but when I do, Captain Bali motions for me to follow him out into the hallway. “I'm sorry to delay, I wanted you to get your test done first, but I got word, you need to report to the company office.”

I nod, kind of perplexed. Officially, the members of the class are organized into a company, even if we're much smaller. So we have a company office, and even have a company commander, first sergeant and clerk. “Roger sir. Uh, should I take my stuff?”

“I don't think so, but I'll make sure your gear's secured,” Captain Bali says, his brown face filled with disquiet. This is strange for him too, whatever the hell's going on.

I make my way down the hallway to the stairs and head down, still wondering what's going on. When I get to the basement, I find the offices of Bravo Company, 71^st Transportation Battalion, my assigned unit for school. I knock on the door, and the company clerk, Specialist McCray, looks up. “Hi El Tee. What can I do for you?”

“Hi. Captain Bali said that I needed to come down here. I'm Lieutenant Carlyle?”

“In here,” a voice booms from the company commander's office, and SPC McCray looks over, shrugging. He unlocks the half door that keeps the school Lieutenants out of the company office area unless needed, and I go through to Captain Simson's office. I find the Captain in there along with another person, a chaplain of all things, and my worry level jumps off the charts. “Have a seat, Carlyle.”

“What's this about, sir?” I ask, sitting down. “Did something happen?”

“You've been listed as the next of kin for a Lieutenant Simon Lancaster, did you know that?” Captain Simson asks.

“Uh, yes sir. He's my boyfriend, we've been dating since I was a Plebe at the Academy, and he asked me to move in with him when I report to Korea. Why, has something happened?”

Captain Simson looks over at the chaplain, who nods. “Simon's been in a helicopter crash.”

“Oh no,” I gasp, feeling my stomach turn over. “Is he...?”

“We don't know,” the chaplain says. “The crash... his helicopter crossed over the border to North Korea. He went down there.”

Things are still not quite registering, and I just want to know about Simon. “He... is he?”

“The North Koreans aren't talking,” Captain Simson says. “Carlyle... Ashley, you need to prepare that he may not be coming back.”

His words trigger something inside me, and I slam my fist down on Captain Simson's desk, growling. “Fuck that! He's coming back, even if I have to.....”

The world goes swimmy, and I sit down, holding my head. I can hear people talking, but I can't understand what anyone's saying, and I can feel myself moving, but I don't know how.

* * *

“She's waking up. Ashley? Hey, Ashley?”

I blink, and realize I'm laying on the floor of Captain Simson's office, my head on something soft and my feet up on a chair. I blink, and look around. Captain Simson is kneeling on the floor next to me, a concerned look on his face, while the chaplain comes back in with a cup of water. “What happened?”

“You passed out, more or less,” Captain Simson says, taking the cup from the chaplain and setting it on the floor. “You were giving me the start of what sounded like an epic rant, then collapsed into the chair. We helped you down, how are you feeling?”

“Ah... my stomach hurts,” I answer. “Sorry about the fuck that, sir. I have a tendency to mouth off when I get upset. And Mom's always said I have a little too much soldier in my vocabulary.”

“I know, I read your Academy files. In this case though, I think it's acceptable. Still, I'm going to run you over to the clinic, just to get you checked out, make sure it was just stress and not something else,” Captain Simson says. “I already sent McCray up to see Captain Bali, he'll get your stuff and bring it down. McCray should be back in two or three minutes.”

“I don't... okay, okay,” I start to protest before seeing the expression on Captain Simson's face. “I feel like an idiot. Tell me about Simon's accident, please?”

“I don't have a lot of info. He was on a routine patrol when he said he had major mechanical failures. He tried to dump his Apache on the South Korean side, but he coasted over the border. The chopper went down on land, but that's all that we know for now. I'm sure that the forces in Korea are doing their best right now. But here's McCray, let's get you to the clinic.”

It's not far from the school to the wellness center, and by the time I get there my headache is gone, and I'm feeling kinda stupid walking in. Still, Captain Simson stays by my side as they take me into an exam room to wait for the next doctor. As we wait, he sits down casually, trying to look unconcerned. “So how did you and Simon meet?”

I smile, leaning back on the exam table. “Actually, he was in my Beast company, as the company counselor. I first noticed him because he was the one cadre who wasn't yelling on R-day. Are you a Pointer, sir?”

“No, I went to Florida State, ROTC,” Captain Simson says, “but I've heard about Beast. Go on.”

“Well, luck would have it that he was also in my academic year company, he was my squad leader first semester. He invited me to join the Sandhurst team, and after recognition... well, we started dating. It wasn't forced, I mean I kind of had a thing for him even before Recognition, he always respected me even though I was a Plebe. But yeah, that's how we met.”

“Not the most romantic tale I've ever heard, but a good one,” Simson says. The doc opens the door, and he gets up. “Okay, I've got to head back to the office. If you need a ride back to school, give the company a call. If not, go ahead and walk back, take your time.”

Captain Simson leaves, and the doctor, a civilian I see, sets her clipboard down. “Hi, so what happened?”

“I passed out in my company offices. I'm feeling fine now, though.”

The doctor hums, and makes a check mark. “Did you eat breakfast this morning after PT?”

“A little. To be honest, it wasn't much, my stomach's been queasy in the mornings for a while now, and we had a test. I'm in BOLC.”

“I understand. Okay, well, let's see what's going on then. Take off your top and lay back, we can check your vitals. What triggered the passing out?” the doctor asks as I pull off my top and t-shirt, laying back in my normal duty sports bra. “Anything stressful?”

“I just learned that my boyfriend's had an accident in Korea,” I answer, feeling slightly trippy still. Shouldn't I be upset, crying, shit like that? What's going on with me? “I guess... I guess that should count.”

“Of course. And how are you feeling in general, recently? You said you've had an upset stomach recently, what else?” the doctor asks, checking my heart rate. Her stethoscope is cold though, and I wince when it pushes into my chest. “Tender?”

“Yeah, I guess,” I whine, fidgeting. “I think it's this new sports bra, my breasts have really been sore the past few days too.”

The doctor hums, then has me sit up and listen to my breathing. “If I can ask, when was the last time you saw your boyfriend?”

“About six weeks ago, we went to our friends' wedding, and he flew out of St. Louis the next day. It was a great wedding, and their story is super sweet too,” I say, feeling sudden tears. I wipe at my eyes, and try to laugh. “I guess I do miss them, or maybe Simon's accident is finally seeping in.”

“Perhaps. If I can ask, were you and Simon sexually active when you were together? And have you been sexually active since?”

Now that's a strange question, but she is a doctor. “Yes, we had sex the night before he left. We were sexually active most of the weeks prior as well. Since then though, nothing. I even stopped my birth control pills, I'm not going to need the damn things. I figured that was the issue, that my hormones have been a little wonky from going off the pills. Why?”

“Well, there's a couple of different issues it could be,” the doctor says, tapping her clipboard annoyingly with her pen. Seriously, what is she doing, trying out as a drummer in a rock band? “It could just be the stress and shock. On the other hand, your heart rate's a little elevated. Not too much, and your breathing sounds clear, so unless you've got other symptoms, I don't think it's a virus or something like that. We'll take blood anyway, just to be sure, send it in for a full workup.”

“Then why ask about my sex life?” I ask, confused and upset. “Do you think I picked up an STD from Simon?”

“No, I doubt that. The way you talked about him, I'm sure that you two have been loyal to each other, and the blood screen will check those anyway. Actually, what I was thinking was... when was the last time you had your period?”

I stop, realizing what the doctor's saying. “About two months ago. But... I didn't stop the pills until after Simon left. I mean, I took one the day before the wedding.”

“Stress and other things can alter the effectiveness,” the doctor says gently. “If you stopped the day of sex with Simon, there's a chance you could be pregnant.”

I feel a tightness of worry in my chest, and I blink. “So what now?”

“Let's get you a pregnancy kit, that'll settle that issue pretty well. We'll take blood at the same time, just to make sure that it's not something else too. Do you take vitamins?” the doctor asks, going over to the exam cabinet.

“I've taken them since starting at the Academy,” I confirm. “A daily multi-vitamin, and when training or my exercise routine is extra tough I'll take some supplements with it, extra iron, things like that. Why?”

“Just in case, and it can effect results sometimes too. Want to eliminate any false positives,” the doctor says. She hands me a box, and points off to her right. “Have you ever used one of these before?”

“Uncap, pee on the stick, cap it up and bring it back,” I say with a chuckle, feeling better. “I helped a college roomie with this back when she was certain she was pregnant my freshman year in civilian university. She was freaking out, but it was a negative. Okay, I'll be right back.”

I go down to the toilet and pee, not even worrying. I mean, seriously, while I wouldn't swear on a stack of Bibles that I took the pill the morning Simon and I had unprotected sex, I know I did the day before, and it wasn't until afterwards that I stopped. Simon... okay, focus on the right now, and then I can deal with things later. Trust that he's going to be okay, I can't do anything about it right this second anyway.

I bring the test back, and the doctor sets it aside while she draws two vials of blood, setting them aside. “Well, let's see what the test says,” she says, giving me a smile. “Have any preferences?”

“Honestly, I'm not thinking about it,” I tell her. “But yeah, the idea of getting married and having kids with Simon has crossed my mind. I know a lot of people would say that I was thinking about it even in the past, choosing Transportation as my second choice for branch after Aviation. The flight physical is tough!”

“So did that affect your choice?” the doctor asks. “I mean, what about him versus the Army?”

I think about it, watching as she scribbles some notes on her chart. “I've had that thought recently. If I had to choose between the Army and my family, my family comes first. The Army's taken enough, it owes me a little bit of payback. What's the test say?”

The doctor picks it up, reading the results window quickly before smiling. “Congratulations. You're going to have a baby.”

* * *

In the two weeks since I learned that I'm pregnant, I've been a crazy headcase. I know Captain Bali has noticed, and he's cut me some slack, but I can't screw off too much, I still have to pass my tests. The doctor at the clinic said she doesn't have to report my pregnancy to Bravo Company, since it's a non-deployable school unit, and it's still early enough in my pregnancy that I'm not under any sort of profile beyond don't get punched in the stomach or try to run a marathon.

Simon's been in the news, and it hurts to see his face every day as the cable news companies milk the story for everything it's worth. One group keeps blaming Simon, saying he was too untrained a pilot. Never mind that Eric Jensen, his co-pilot and gunner, was an experienced five year Apache crewmember as well, who had his own set of controls in his part of the cockpit.

Then there's the other groups. You have the people who just shrug their shoulders and say that this sort of stuff happens, and we should just ask the North Koreans to return our servicemen, and pretty please? Of course, the North Koreans haven't said shit for two weeks, even at their little side of the Joint Security Area in Panmunjom. We can't even officially confirm that they are alive.

This silence has led to the rise of the other side, the one that I can at least sympathize with, that says we need to go kick some fucking ass and get our men back. It's the news channel of choice around Fort Lee, but to be honest, it's gotten sickening as the drumbeat for war has drowned out the men who are being held by the Koreans. It's a drum that I've heard before, played the loudest by chickenhawks who never actually have had their ass or the ass of anyone that matters to them on the line.

Finally, I can't stand it any more, and I drive home on a Friday, leaving as soon as class is finished up. When I get home, the sun is already setting. Parking my car, I open the door to the house to find Mom and Dad sitting at the kitchen table, enjoying some dessert. For some reason, probably the hormonal swings that I read come with the early onset of pregnancy, this pisses me off. “Glad to see Simon's situation hasn't ruined everyone's appetites.”

Mom looks hurt, but the look in my eyes causes her to gather up the dishes and clear the table. I feel bad, but I'm still too hormonally pissed off to tell Mom that I'm sorry when she puts the dishes in the sink and leaves the kitchen, Dad and I silent the whole time. Finally, when the kitchen door closes, Dad folds his hands on the table and gives me a measured look. “I thought I raised you to be more polite than that. Even for an Army officer, that was rude as hell.”

His calm tone pierces the cloud of anger, and I deflate, sighing. “Dad... I'm sorry, okay? I just, I need your help. I need to understand what's going on, because nobody at Fort Lee is telling me a damn thing. Apparently being listed as next of kin means I get the run around constantly. I'm getting sick of it.”

Dad nods, and stands up. “Walk with me, and you can apologize to your mother later. Are you staying overnight?”

“Probably. I'm not signed off of post, but I'm close enough that I could make it back for a recall if I busted ass,” I tell him, and Dad nods again. Technically, I'm supposed to sign out, Dad's house is just over the free travel line. “Mind if I ditch the uniform?”

“Probably better,” Dad says, and I take off my hat and ACU top. I'm not worried about having clothes for sleeping, I know there's still some of my old stuff around the house somewhere.

We walk through the back yard and towards the woods, where Dad sighs. “I know that it looked like Katherine and I were just relaxing without a care in the world, but that ice cream was just an attempt to try and have some peace in the past two weeks.”

“I know,” I answer, sighing. “Dad... before we go on, I'm pregnant.”

Dad stops, then laughs, happy and relieved. “Congratulations. Explains a lot, too. Katherine went through horrible mood swings when she was pregnant with Julius and Gavin. They tapered off when she had you, maybe because she had a girl inside her, but more than likely just her body was used to it by then. Here, can I give you a hug over it?”

“I'd like that,” I tell Dad, hugging my father hard. It's been hard, being his little girl. Dad's always tried his best, he’s never quite understood girls the way that he understood Gavin and Julius, but I love him anyway. “I know I should have told you as soon as I found out, but it's been a hard two weeks, Dad.”

“I know, honey, I know.” Dad holds me close, and for just an instant I feel like a little girl again, comfortable and safe in my father's arms. “So what did you want to talk to me about?”

I take a deep breath and step back, starting to walk again. “Dad, the whole time you were active duty, I never quite knew what your job was. I think that was on purpose, because when I took a look at your uniform photo that you keep in your study... you were Special Ops, weren't you?”

“I was. Why?”

“It came to mind again when Cara and Tammy had their wedding. At least two people who said they wanted to come but couldn't somehow got their schedules cleared up after you make some phone calls to people. Simon says that it's just the Old Grad network, but I think there was more in it. Dad, you've still got friends in high places. I know you, you're keeping your ear to the ground. So give me the real shit. What's going on?”

Dad nods, and when he looks at me, there's a look in his eyes that I'd never seen before, he's looking at me not just as his daughter but as a respected adult as well. “You're smart, Ashley. Okay, fine. Yes, I've been keeping in touch with people, who are telling me stuff that the news isn't. First off, Simon's alive. The co-pilot they think is dead, but the South Koreans were able to get a photo of the crash site, they pulled the pilot out for sure.”

Tears come to my eyes and I blink, wiping them away. “Then what the hell's going on? I looked it up, the North Koreans have shot down our choppers before, they harass the shit outta the pilot for a while, but they’re eventually repatriated.”

Dad nods, and wipes at his cheek, he's got a day's growth of stubble. “That was during Kim Il-sung and Kim Jong-il's times. They had the respect of their country and Army, and were friendly with the Chi-coms as well. Lil' Kim though, he's not the same as his Daddy and Grandpappy.”

Lil' Kim… the nickname makes my lip curl. “What's that fuckhead want?”

“Nobody knows, but the best bet is he wants to prove how tough he is,” Dad says. “After the last nuke test, he lost a lot of swing with the Chinese and with us. The administration's tired of his game. Get concessions, waste them, set off a nuke test or something similar, ratchet up the tensions, then wait for us to buy him off with a couple hundred thousand dollars of grain or rice or a million bucks or so of something else. It's a playbook he learned from his father, and it's one that Lil' Kim plays well. And it worked for twenty years, more or less. But after that last nuke, even the Chinese have had enough. They've got their own shit to deal with, so they more or less told Kim to get his shit right.”

“So he's looking for a new leverage point,” I say, fuming. “Simon's it.”

“More than likely, although to be honest it's harder to predict this Kim than either of the others,” Dad says, sighing. “I'm being honest, he's just fucking crazy or stupid enough to actually start something.”

“So if he's using Simon as bait, as some sort of leverage, why not just go in and get him out? We've got to know where they're holding him, right?” I ask, desperate. “Fuck, the Pentagon's got satellites that can listen in on when someone's playing Pokemon GO on the toilet, I'm sure they can figure out where Simon is.”

Dad shakes his head. “They might know, nobody I've talked to will confirm that much. But even if they have, the Administration won't go in after him.”

“What?” I ask, pissed. “What the fuck happened to Duty, Honor, Country? What the fuck happened to No Man Left Behind?”

I turn, angry, and kick a small tree, the heel of my boot crashing into the thin sapling and cracking the wood, I'm so angry. “The man I love, the father of my child is being held in some North Korean hell hole, and you're telling me that the country I swore to defend is going to let him rot?”

“The South Koreans would love for us to go in, give Kim a black eye. Hell, they have units whose whole job are these sort of cross border raids and fuckery, although they don't advertise about them. But the Chinese have said in no particular terms that if we send units after Simon, and the North Koreans kick back, they'll have the North Korean's back,” Dad growls, angry at the situation. “The Administration fears that if we go in after Simon, we trigger World War III.”

“This is fucking bullshit!” I fume, shaking my head. “Christ, give me an M-16 and some gear, I'll go in there myself after him.”

“What you need to do is stay where you are and take care of that baby in your belly,” Dad replies, pulling me in for another hug. “I'm doing what I can, Ashley. I can't tell you everything, but I'm doing what I can. You're not alone in this, honey. I promise you.”

I nod, hugging Dad fiercely. The tears start, and I don't feel any shame hugging my father and crying, there are so many things that I have to cry about right now. But his advice touches me, and I gather strength from that. “You're right,” I say, stepping back. “This is Simon's baby, and my baby. I need to take care of him.”

“Hoping for a boy, huh?” Dad says, smiling. “Well, boy or girl, I hope they have your eyes. I never told you, but that green that you get from your mother was one of the first things that caused me to work up the nerve to ask her out.”

I laugh, I like my eyes. “Gingers. We have no souls, remember?”

Dad laughs and puts an arm around my shoulders, leading me back towards the house. “You have plenty of soul, Ashley. Plenty of soul indeed.”