Mar 7th, 1984 (Still)

Winry had found a place to land several miles west of Fort Cilin. Once down, they had hidden the plane under the trees using a mix of alchemy and basic camouflage techniques. By then, it had grown dark, and they had decided to sleep and wait until morning to set out towards the Fort.

There were several good reasons for this, even though it chafed at Ed's patience. The biggest one, was if they took longer to show up, they had a better chance of pretending to be reasonably local, and not be immediately assumed to have possibly been related to the incident.

The others were that they needed to sleep, and make sure they had agreed on a plan of attack depending on what they found when they arrived.
Against his survival instincts, Ed slept, though fitfully, coming fully awake as soon as the next morning came. There was nothing to eat, and his growling stomach made him grouchy.

"I hope they at least have something left to eat," he grumbled as they trudged the several miles up the road towards their destination.

"If they do, it's probably burnt," Al commented, though he looked just as hungry.

"Will you two stop griping," Winry said from between them. "You're making me hungry."
Ed chuckled, and slipped an arm around his wife's shoulders. "Well, as soon as we get back to civilization, I'll treat you to the best meal you've ever had."

"Right now, I'd take a bowl of rice."

As they came over the last ridge and looked down at what had once been Fort Cilin, Ed felt his stomach drop. "Somehow, I don't think we're going to find even that much."

Below them lay chaos and smoking ruins. The fires were mostly out, but they hadn't left much behind. The entire south exterior fort wall was gone, as well as nearly half-way down the east and west walls. The train was twisted wreckage, and not much left of that. The cars were husks. Dead bodies still lay on the ground, where they were recognizable. Most were burnt. They approached slowly, and Ed didn't have to feign the shock and sadness he felt, at least in part, at the destruction they had caused. If this hadn't been an enemy stronghold –the terrorists that had killed Sara, kidnapped Charlie Fischer, and killed and hunted numerous alchemists and now blown Central HQ- he might… might have been more sympathetic.

To his relief, Ed saw no children among the bodies. Though he was slightly concerned by the lack of the living. Surely they hadn't killed everyone. He had seen living people scrambling about as they flew off.

"Let's try here," Alphonse suggested softly as they walked up to what looked like a very unimpressive office building that was still standing, at least partially. It was leaning drunkenly away from the explosions, and covered in soaked char marks.

"This looks promising." Ed was glad there were no bodies in the building, but what he did see was far more interesting; an office space. The three of them spread out, exploring the ruins and digging through desks, looking for anything that might be useful. Smashed filing cabinets yielded mostly ruined papers, soaked and falling apart on the floor, but not everything was destroyed.

Winry's gasp made him stand bolt upright and look up from attempting to decipher what looked like purchase orders for rockets.

"What's wrong?"

Winry held up several sheets of paper. "I think this is what we're looking for."

Ed and Al joined her, and Ed took a couple of pages from his wife. They were tattered but coherent, and they looked oddly familiar. Sketches of airplanes, notes on rockets –called missiles in some notations- and a phrase that made Ed's blood run cold… atomic weapons. The handwriting was also familiar. "These are Dumais' writings," he said. Dumais… Edward Hughes… Krista's father who had come through the gate entirely by accident. "How did they get a hold of these?"

"Maybe someone stole them," Al suggested. "Before the commune we met formed. Or one of the alchemists working with him could have stolen them then, and sold them to the Hashman Syndicate."

"But they were alchemists," Winry pointed out. "Why would they do that?"

"Money?" Ed shrugged, though he was wondering the same thing, his brain racing frantically to put it all together. "Or maybe they didn't know who they were selling it to. It would be just like Hashman and his brother to use alchemists against their own interests."

Al nodded. "What are we going to do with them?"

Part of Ed wanted desperately to pack up the papers, keep them for study, but he didn't honestly see anything on them he didn't already know. "This," he said as he crumpled the pages into a ball. "They'll burn nicely in the ashes outside."

Al and Winry nodded as they all fell silent for a moment, considering the enormity of what they had discovered, and how complex the scheme might truly be. How long had Hashman been trying to put this into effect? Even now, what more might happen back home? Would this even make the Syndicate blink, or would their tyrant simply redouble his efforts. They needed to find out what had happened to Hashman… if he was even really here.

::Who are you?::

They all turned suddenly to see some poor office aid looking guy, bedraggled, with singed hair and minor burns. His glasses were broken, but he still looked like he might try to defend the paperwork against thieves.

Loyal yet stupid. Ed refrained from shaking his head. He put on a disdainful and annoyed look. ::Where's Hashman?::

The man snorted. ::Dead, like everyone else. Don't tell me you're here on business.::

::You might call it that.:: Dead, well now, wasn't that convenient? Well, no reason to blow their cover now. ::What happened here?::

::Traitors… we're not sure,:: he admitted. ::They came in one of our vehicles and destroyed the entire arsenal. We tried to call the factory but no one's answering.::

Can't imagine why not. Ed refrained from smiling. Instead he tried to look concerned. ::Can we see Hashman? I mean… pay our respects. Who's in charge with him gone?::

::Me, I think.:: The man shrugged, as if it didn't matter. ::Every one of his lackeys was on the train with him, ready to move out. ::There's not much body to look at.::

Ed wanted to confirm the man's death, but he didn't think this guy had any reason to lie to them. He just wished there was a way to be absolutely certain. ::Don't worry about it. I can see you've got enough problems. I'll just give you the information we were going to report to Hashman. We heard on the radio someone blew up the missile factories last night. He wanted to know if they double crossed him, but our sources reported that instead.::

::So you're part of his spy network.::

::We are.::

::Why haven't I heard of you?::

At least Hashman didn't hire idiots. ::Well come on, do you really think he'd tell anyone about all of his operatives. It's not a very good way of keeping secrets. He didn't tell us your name either, for one thing.::

Either the man bought it, or he didn't care anymore. ::How did you get here?::

::Walked,:: Al cut in. ::We've been stationed in Rinyu for the past couple of weeks.::

Good thinking, Al. Again Ed had to fight not to grin. Rinyu was only a few miles away, but it also had a lot of farms and out buildings scattered around the countryside that would make for good set-up locations for intelligence equipment, and almost no one from the Syndicate actually spent any time there do to some hostilities with the locals. ::We didn't tell them who we were working for,:: he added to Al's story.

Plausibility seemed to help, but the man still looked at Winry with suspicion. ::Who's she?::

::I'm the mechanic,:: Winry replied truthfully. ::Someone's got to keep equipment running.::

::You're a mechanic?::

::You want me to show you how well I wield a wrench?::

The implied threat was enough. ::No. No ma'am, that's all right,:: the man backtracked quickly. ::But it's a waste of time to be here. Hashman, Leveux, Lokhov, and Rammeur were all on the train. There's nothing left of them to talk to.::

::What are we supposed to do now then?:: Ed asked, sounding exasperated and hoping there was enough of a note of concern in his voice.

::Only fifteen of us are alive here,:: the man shrugged. ::What can we do besides inform our bases in Central, Othans, Bueaire, and Morgrad?::

::Surely someone will take up the cause.:: Al sounded more convincingly worried and slightly angry at the defeatest attitude the other man was displaying.

::You know very well this was the big plan,:: the nameless office aid snorted in disgust. ::Or you're not nearly as informed as you claim to be. Amestris has been struck a mighty blow, but it's not nearly enough.::

::It'll be hard to finish them off without supplies though,:: Winry commented.

::The other bases are not unarmed, but plans will have to change,:: the aid nodded. ::But first, we must survive.::

::Agreed.:: Ed nodded. ::We can go back to to Rinyu for supplies.::

::I will contact the bases as soon as the radio is working,:: the aid replied. ::Torro is getting me wires from the spare closet.::

::Good. How long do you think it will take?::

::An hour or so.:: The man shrugged. ::I must go. We have wasted too much time.::

::We will get out of your way,:: Winry said, and they turned and left the building.

As they walked past the smoldering remains of the train, Ed tossed the handful of crumpled paper into a pile of red ashes. Immediately it began to blacken and smoke.

They did not speak until they were well outside the Fort.

"Now what?" Winry asked quietly.

Ed grinned. "Well if he's fixing the radio, the phone lines must have been destroyed. So we get back to the plane, find the frequency and listen in on everything the Syndicate has to say on the subject."

Mar 8th, 1984

As soon as it was dawn, they were in the air with a new destination in mind: Imperial City. Winry had agreed that as soon as they heard what had gone out over the radio frequencies to the various Hashman Syndicate locations -which they fully intended to report to the heads of the relevant countries- they needed to get to Mao and let them know what was going on.

Ed flew, and Winry and Alphonse found the right radio frequency to contact the Imperial Army as soon as they were in signal range of Imperial City.

"I wonder if anyone knows about the explosion yet," Al muttered thoughtfully as they fiddled with the dials.

"The factories, possibly. The Fort, they're about to," Winry replied. "And… there we are!" She found the frequency Amestris used for all its standard military operations.

"You're on, Alphonse."

Al grinned and put the microphone near his mouth. "This is True Soul to Comm One. Come in Comm One."

There were several moments of static, then "This is Comm One to True Soul. Report."

"I have critical information, Comm One. I need a General."

"How about an Emperor?"

Winry blinked, and Al looked startled as he said, "Mao?"

"I guess you missed the announcement that my demise was highly exaggerated," the Emperor laughed. "It's good to hear from you. What's your important information?"

It occurred to Winry that it was possible the enemy would be able to hear their transmission. It also occurred to her that it wouldn't matter. It might even work to their advantage if the world knew that the Syndicate had taken a lethal blow.

"We blew up the rocket factory in ," Al reported, "And then we hijacked their weapons and blew up Fort Cilin, which was -until last night- Syndicate Headquarters."

Their announcement was met with stunned silence so long that Winry began to wonder if they had lost the signal somehow.

"Was anything left?" the question finally came.

"Not much," Al reported, grinning. "We also tapped into their transmissions afterwards and investigated. We've destroyed all of their research and they have confirmed that Hashman and all three of his deputies died when we blew up their train full of rockets."

Now they could hear cheers on the other side of the line from somewhere behind Mao. "Any report on how much of an arsenal they have left?"

"Nothing we can reliably confirm," Al added with honest regret. "But there's absolute chaos in the leadership at this point. It sounds like they're not even entirely sure who should be in charge. Their next-in-command structure didn't reach that far."

Good news for us, not for them. Winry hoped that meant that the Syndicate might fall apart now, even if she couldn't be entirely convinced that her hopes were founded on enough to come through.

"What is your present location? We'll send transport for you if we can," Mao continued.

"That won't be necessary," Al chuckled. "We will be joining you before the day is over."

That brought another moment of stunned silence. "And how are you managing this miracle?" Mao asked finally.

"The same way we managed the last," Al quipped. "But I can't say over the radio. You'll see this evening. Please, talk to General Heimler and have him contact Central. They need to know that the Syndicate may try something desperate. They should also inform the governments of the other allied countries –and Drachma- that the Syndicate has bases in Othans, Bueaire, and Morgrad."

"Consider it done," Mao responded.

"Alphonse?" Another voice burst over the channel, and it took Winry a moment to recognize Ren's voice. "Is everyone all right? Can I talk to Will?"

Al's face turned pale. Clearly he hadn't expected Ren, or her question.

"Ren!" Winry cut in, saving him. "It's Winry. We… Will isn't with us. We split up." It was true, even if it hadn't been intentional.

She didn't need to see Ren's face to know that she was upset by the news. "Was he safe when you saw him last?"

"He was smiling," Winry replied honestly. "And he said he'd be fine. We were escaping at the time, without pursuit. They were too worried about the fact we had just blown up all of their factory buildings."

"He's an idiot," Ren replied, though she sounded mildly less stricken.

"He's resourceful," Al cut back in, giving Winry a thankful expression. "He'll be all right."

"We'll speak more tonight," Mao came back on. "I am sure there is much more to discuss."

"Very much," Al agreed. "True Soul out."

Al leaned back against the bulkhead, eyes closed, a look of agony crossing his features.

Winry laid a hand on his shoulder. "You said it yourself, he's resourceful. He'll be all right."

"I hope so." Al's voice was harsher than it had been a few moments ago, thick with emotion. "He's perfectly capable of taking care of himself. I know that, Winry, but –

there's no certainty in any of this, is there? But, damn it, he's my son. We can't lose anyone else."

"You're supposed to be the optimist here," Winry smiled gently. "Please don't leave that up to Ed. He's not good at it."

Al didn't smile, but he did twitch in a way that signified on another day he might have. "You're right."

"That you're the optimist?"

"No, about Ed."

If this is going to be just another day on the job, I am demanding a raise. Cal crouched behind a boulder along the roadside, staring back at the wreckage of what had been an Imperial tank only moments before. Typically stupid response. Find out your boss can't back up his threats, so you throw everything you've got at the enemy and hope you get in your bluff.

They had managed to get communications restored with Imperial Command only long enough to find out that Fullmetal and True Soul had managed to destroy the rocket factories and the Syndicate's secret headquarters. Apparently the Tiahuan troops had gotten the same information or overheard the communication because less than an hour later, they had launched a bombardment as Shan and Cal had been moving their forces away from the river along the road bridge several miles upstream from the train bridge they had recently destroyed.

The bombardment had been sudden and surprising, given the Tiahuan hadn't even waited for their own infantry to get into position to fire back. A decision by the Tiahuan upper officers most likely.

The reflexes of Cal's alchemists had been all that saved them from worse casualties, deflecting more than half of the barrage off to the sides of the road, and one or two lucky shots back at the like they had before.

You'd think they'd have learned their lesson the last time. Cal straightened up long enough to transmute water out of the damp, chilly air, and using it to knock back the infantry attempting to form up ranks on the enemy line. Several stumbled and fell. Maybe I'll succeed in giving them all head colds. They were just too far from the river for his alchemy to do as much good as it had there. Maybe they weren't entirely as stupid as he had thought. You should fear me, you bastards.

His last successful block of their missiles had –along with the work of two others- destroyed five troop-movers and a another tank. Thankfully, their traditional tight-quarters tactics were proving horribly ineffective against Amestrian alchemists.

The Tiahuan also seemed to be running out of ammunition, at least temporarily. He and Shan hadn't managed to cut them off from their supply lines coming down from the north yet, but the news they had been given implied that there would be far less coming to resupply them.

The front of his bolder vanished in a shower of shards and pebbles. Cal dodged just in time to avoid a chunk that went right through where his head had been moments before. A stinging on his scalp told him he hadn't escaped unscathed. Well, I did need a haircut.

::Die Amestrian!::

Cal rolled, ducked a strike from a bayonet, spun, came up, and slammed his forearm into the butt of the Tiahuan soldier's rifle, sending it flying out of his hands. ::Not today,:: he replied, smacking his fist into the other man's face-

-as stars and pain exploded in the back of his head, sending him into black oblivion.