It wasn't until they were playing "Taps" that it really hit John. Three hours of hand shakes and condolences, and it was a 19 year old cadet with a bugle that struck home.

General Larson was dead.

He'd taken a ship from McMurdo to Montevideo, a red ey…

He didn't say anything. Really, there wasn't much he could say, not then and certainly not now, standing in his doorway bare to the 3 am chill.

He stepped back into the apartment and lead the way to the kitchen, as if his visitor had forgotten, as if it…