The logic of the sergeant’s argument was flawed. As he walked up the stairs and made his way to the computer room, Turner understood the error and tried to get the man out of the house.

Casey’s self-diagnosis of his terminal condition was at best a blind to cover his desire to stay in the house. Turner suspected the sergeant’s decision had more to do with his personality than his physical condition. It was frightening to have a man so dedicated to his personal survival when Turner had no memory of the man; it addressed to the idea Turner had been a good boss.

Good or not, Turner knew he was the man to stay in the house. He was the most visible component of the mission, the man his superiors would remember the most when the question of survivors came up at the meeting Turner suspected would convene when the word of mission failure arrived.

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His superiors would want a person to blame for the failure. They would search until they found such a person, be it military or actor.

He pushed open the door of the computer room and looked at the mess. The computer still counted down the supposed rescue force. Overturned chairs and papers lay on the floor.

Righting a chair, he sat in front of the computer and searched for the words he had seen during his quick study of the mission data. If he once was the cold-hearted bastard Turner suspected, then the words made sense when viewed as a survival of the fittest mentality.

Moving rapidly through the directories, he scanned the pages and hoped he did not miss the words. Anxiety hampered him as he worked, but Turner kept up the pace, aware the helicopters would be at the house soon.

The word could mean so many things, but in this moment, he hoped for a specific meaning, a twentieth century meaning.