She met the news of a mole with an impassive look though her heart and mind took a start. The world of intelligence was a strange thing. Every one knew it happened - in part because everyone did it and usually took advantage of them to feed poor information - and yet at the same time, everyone always seemed surprised when the mole was revealed. Spies and special forces were at least honest in their occupation; finding out that the person you've worked with for eight years was really your enemy? It was something anyone would find intimately wounding.<br/><br/>"We'll do our best with what we have."<br/><br/>It wasn't a consolation as much as she wanted it to be. Melinda wondered if making history as a female would get caught up in making history by getting caught up in a mole's schemes. One did not seem conductive to the other, she noted wryly, or to the Delta operators. The little blurb history books usually noted something quick number about how many died and then swiftly moved on to the consequences.<br/><br/>Captain Hinckley proved a better lunch time conversationalist than he was bearer of news. He talked of his men with a clear sense of pride, skirting drama and violence in favor of embarrassing stories fit for a parent. The others had the humility to manage looks of friendly chagrin in front of Melinda.<br/><br/>The young lieutenant watched the two men play with the dog in silence. Look carefully and one would have spied the smallest of smiles or smirks curling one corner of her mouth. Animals seemed to bring out the best in soldiers and had she closed her eyes, she might have thought the two men playing in the park while their wives sat at a picnic bench talking about baking and soccer. Callahan had lost five years off his face by the time he came to address her, the playful energy still fluttering in his eyes.<br/><br/>"Yes, General sir," She said, perhaps a bit more formally than necessary, before holding out the envelope.