November 22nd, 1990

"For all the hurry they took getting here, they don't seem to be in much of one now," Sara groused as she watched the front of the Drachman line through her binoculars. In the three days since their arrival on the front of the Western Drachman line, there had been no fighting. Not that she was complaining about peace, but it ran antithetically to the Zinovek strategies along other portions of the mountain range locally referred to fondly as The Wall. Up until now, while the Western portion was fighting without back-up, the Zinovek army—Sara refused to think of them as the rightful Drachman army—had fought aggressively up every single stretch of road that wound its way up into the mountains that formed the wall between central and west. The higher plateaus and steep peaks gave the new Western Drachma an advantage in terrain that helped make up for the lack of numbers, but it hadn't been quite enough. Still, they had managed to block off more and more routes between the two, either by fighting off soldiers or using explosives to blow up whole mountain sides, blocking off smaller mountain roads, and even ripping up train tracks where possible.

The landscape around and below Sara was a prime example of why no one in their right mind invaded Drachma. The road below them was the largest highway in this part of the country, and the only main road that ran from Petrayevka far out in the central plane up to the provincial headquarters of the west. It ran parallel to train rails that they had already successfully dismantled enough of to keep the Zinoveks from using them, and the river that had cut the deep mountain gorge that ran sharply down from the top of the plateau to the valley several miles distant.

It was only because of how straight the gorge was that they could see the army far below in the distance at all, even with binoculars. They were camped out of shelling reach by tanks, and seemed to be waiting for something. Sara just wished she knew what it was.

"If I thought they knew we were here, I'd bet they were afraid of us," Cal Fischer quipped beside her.

"It's possible their intelligence isn't so bad it didn't notice us flying in," Sara pointed out. "Or pick out us standing up here in Amestrian uniforms."

"That would explain why they're still standing there," Cal acknowledged. "Though it doesn't explain why they were doing it for three days when they arrived here before we did."

"It's possible they think that position does have a tactical advantage," Gavril Mihalov suggested. "Or, and I don't like this possibility, they're waiting for more back up that they think will even things out enough for them to make an attempt to take this pass. Whoever controls it will control the main access point between the mountains and the plains, which right now means our entire declaration of independence will be for nothing if they can bring military forces through here at will."

"Which is why we're here." The Kartosian and Cretan troops were still moving in, but would be focused mainly further south to keep the Zinoveks from making a direct push into the low-valley area of the mountains—which were surrounded by what were still towering peaks by Amestrian standards—towards Kartos and the ocean. Even Savahin had been smart enough to realize that losing his industrial base was more critical than having a port. At least for now. While more soldiers might eventually come north to join them, for now the Amestrian alchemists were the primary support for this point, and the one other road still open to the north.

That was where Ted's team was currently heading, since it was under heavier bombardment and seeing regular combat. Cal had apparently had little reservation about sending Ted off in charge of the group, and given they had experience working as a team, and in Drachma, Sara hadn't seen any reason to object either. She had insisted on Ted coming after all.

That left the rest of the younger alchemists here with her and Cal. Not that they were all inexperienced, since that group included Trisha, and none of them were completely green. They were just so young in her eyes now, and fresh. Like she and Cal had been a few wars ago.

"So, we're waiting for them to make the first move." The comment came from Cal.

Gavril nodded. "We can't afford to destroy this pass yet or cave it in, or we would have already. They can't afford to either, for similar reasons. We have the advantage of high ground and they can't flank us. They have the advantage of numbers, but they have to fight their way up here to get at us. At the moment, they're a containment force, here to keep us from expanding, but also to keep our attention divided, hoping to keep our people more spread out. Though we don't think they have an accurate count of our numbers."

Sara doubted they did. It was unlikely that the Zinoveks were aware that Western Drachma had offered pardons and commuted or more lenient sentences to nearly eight-five percent of the inmates in the prison work camps, working in the factories and mines, if they would put their name on paper in contract signing allegiance to Western Drachma and promise to work in her defense. While that did not mean all of them went into the military, it did mean a huge swell in their numbers. Then there were the now-defected members of the Drachman military, which consisted of the entire Western Division, and several thousand defectors that had crossed the mountains to join them. All of which had been thoroughly screened and questions to avoid allowing spies into their midst.

Not that anyone could ever be one-hundred percent certain there weren't spies. They could, however, keep track of those people to make sure they couldn't be in a position to leave or report back. Only the most trusted were in on the tactical meetings.

It felt more than a little strange to be counted among the most trusted, but Sara had definitely been in weirder situations. In the short time since their arrival she had been approached by no less than four prison guards who had—visiting individually—prostrated themselves on the ground, either on one knee or both, to ask her forgiveness for their treatment of her. As none of them were the men who had directly broken her bones, or shot her as far as she could tell, Sara had forgiven them with little thought. They had been, she reasoned, just doing their jobs and their duty and she had told them as much. If they were to work together now, there could be no remaining bad blood. If they wanted to make it up to her, they could successfully help put an end to this civil war.

Sara was much more comfortable around the regular Drachman soldiers. They knew who she was, but none of them had interacted with her during her incarceration. She spoke their tongue fluently, never put on airs, and when she had walked the fires the night before through the camps—some habits were hard to break, even if they weren't your army—they had accepted her at their fires with only a little trepidation, which melted away as she demonstrated she really did just want to listen to their stories, and get to know them. She even sang along when they got around to local folk songs she had picked up listening to others sing them in the prison, on the rare occasion people sang while working.

It felt odd to be more at home there than with her own people. It was fine around people who had known her for most of her life, or theirs. Her family, bless them all, treated her almost as if she had never left, aside from Franz' tendencies to be more over-protective; a tendency her son seemed to have also developed in her absence. Still, her daughter, her nephew, and Cal treated her as just herself. Even Felix Tringham, while being respectful, had treated her just as he had when she had last been his superior officer. There was no hero-worship or awkwardness.

It was different with the younger alchemists. None of the rest of Ted's team, or the new group Cal had put together that she was now working with, had ever worked with her before. They had never met her until this assignment. To them, their whole careers, she had been immortalized as a legend and a hero, a martyr to some depending on how you looked at it. While none of them behaved in an outwardly worshipful fashion, there was none of the camaraderie she had built up with the alchemists of her father's generation, or her own. There wasn't even the comfortable respect she had normally gotten from her subordinates. Rapid, Marble, Live Wire, and Molecule all seemed to find her intimidating, though some hid it better than others. If there was any open hero worship going on it wasn't aimed at her, but at Calvin Fischer.

Sara wondered if Cal was aware of it. It made sense for the Rapid Alchemist, who she understood most people considered the next Whitewater given not just his area of expertise with water, but his good looks and cocky attitude. Sara could definitely see how he wasn't too unlike Cal from his younger days, except he was too shiny and new to have any of Cal's heavier life experiences. At that age, Cal had acted as much as he had been what people had seen, even if Sara hadn't known that at the time. Rapid wanted terribly to not only emulate Cal, but to match him. There was a clear hunger in his eyes whenever he thought Cal wasn't looking.

Or maybe Cal did know. He had chosen to bring Rapid along on purpose after all. Up here in the snow and water was a good place for Rapid to really get his feet wet and see what he was capable of, with Cal there to give him pointers.

The other one whose idol worship was as much a crush as anything else, was Amalea Finn, whose look of pure adoration Sara had caught once when she was sure the Live Wire Alchemist had no idea anyone had caught her staring, was almost as adorable as it was unsurprising. You still charm the girls, Whitewater, even when you're not trying. For Sara, it was amusing more than anything else. She was almost positive Cal did not know about the Finn girl's likely harmless infatuation, or he would most certainly not have brought her along. Still, Sara didn't think it would hurt anything. For her, it was just interesting to get to know the girl, who on first impression did not seem to have much of her father in her, except for his bright hair and dimpled smile.

Sara hadn't seen much of the elder Finn since the Drachman War. After he'd lost his best friends and had a near complete break-down, he'd retired, not entirely willingly. It had been her father's insistence that he had more to live for that had convinced him to do it though. Afterwards, a lot of folks had been concerned that he wouldn't make it; and there were rumors he had tried at least once to take his own life. That hadn't happened in the end thankfully. He had married his girlfriend, who had been quite determined to keep him alive and drag him to the altar, and fathered the adorable and seeming innocent girl that Sara had so recently met. She had seen the girl a couple of times, when she was much smaller, but she wasn't sure Amalea even remembered the times she and her mother had crossed paths with Sara on the streets of Central out shopping. The girl had been much younger.

By the time they got into real combat, they would have to be functioning as a team, and Sara suspected they would get over their hero worship quickly. Though maybe not the fear. Neither she nor Cal could go easy on them, and they wouldn't. They were the most experienced officers, which made them the best to handle the less experienced team. Ted was excellent, but sending his already-practiced team out made more sense. Trisha would help Sara and Cal whip the new folks into shape. After all, she had trained all of them at various points during their time in the alchemist training program, and as inexperienced but new State Alchemists. Sara had overheard Trisha telling some of her 'Mom' stories to them while she was half-dozing on the plane, and she knew that Trisha was doing it to help them get used to thinking of the Twilight Alchemist as human.

Sara adjusted her binoculars again, and looked down at the army spread out far away and below. Wait for them to make the first move might be dull, but it gave them time to get that training in, and that, she suspected, might be the worst mistake Savahin's army could possibly make.


Ted ducked behind a rock, narrowly avoiding the mortar shell from the tank down the pass. The shelling had been going on for nearly two weeks according to the local commanding officers, and he could see why they were grateful for the arrival of the alchemists, even if they weren't entirely sure what alchemists could do. None of the men here were old enough to have fought in the war between Drachma and Amestris. That worked in Ted's favor really, since it meant there was no personal bad blood to be dealt with.

Still, it had taken them a few days past their arrival in Drachma to reach this point. Ted's first impression of the enemy was that they were determined, not incredibly experienced, and possibly getting a little desperate. From a distance none of the soldiers on the other side appeared any older than the ones he was fighting beside. A lot of the old-guard military must be elsewhere, or had deserted. Personally, Ted hoped for the latter. Fighting raw recruits would be much easier.

Not that his plan was to engage in fighting that ended in heavy losses. If they couldn't take and keep the pass, he intended to block it entirely. The reason they hadn't before was it was wide enough that collapsing the walls would not have been enough to block it, and there was no easy way to plant the charges necessary to do so. The land being fairly flat between the cliffs meant that neither side had a marked terrain advantage.

Ted didn't need charges, and he didn't need the walls to be tall enough. For now, however, that was a last resort move, if only because they would then have to go through the effort of re-opening the pass to use it themselves. It was one of the few that hadn't been closed only because it was one of the most important. They wanted to push this group hard and go for a decisive victory if possible. There was no reason they couldn't win this one, and it would send a message. Western Drachma wasn't going to fold or surrender.

The first clue the enemy had that Western Drachma had alchemists needed to be a decisive, unexpected, and impactful attack. Ted had his alchemists thinking about the best way to do that, and he'd promised them that in this case, flashy was absolutely acceptable. If they could intimidate the enemy, so much the better.

Now it was time to see if a couple of days' frantic planning would bear fruit. Ted was set up at the head of the pass, with Niki Marskaya and a radio. The two sides had been lobbing artillery at each other on and off for some time, since at this distance firing anything else was a waste of ammunition. The Zinoveks seemed fairly confident in their position at the moment, and that it was a safe distance from anything the mountain folk could throw at them.

They were about to learn to take those "mountain folk" very seriously.

:This idea of yours is crazy,: Niki pointed out as they stared down the pass, Ted waiting for signals that his people were all in place.

Ted chuckled, and smiled at his brother in law. :You should know by now that all my ideas are crazy. That's why they work.:

Niki did not disagree.

The plan had come to Ted in one of his usual strokes of random genius, as he remembered a folk tale he had heard one night while they were all entertaining themselves under the Marksayas' mountain. What better way to terrify Drachmans, than with a monster out of their childhood nightmares?

Their own men had been warned only to expect something very unexpected, and very much not real, no matter what their senses told them.

Felix Tringham was just on the other side of the head of the pass, behind a large boulder, where he had a clear view all the way down but without putting himself in the immediate field of view. His alchemy was the base on which all the others would build as they created Ishkala, the ice snake queen.

Glacier and Pulse had taken up positions in the forested area above the pass. It had taken them hours, under the cover of cold darkness, to sneak up there unseen, but that was something State Alchemists were generally good at, especially with as much sneaking around the Drachman countryside as they had done on their last mission here.
Normally of nominal use in combat directly, Sensation was in a position of unusual risk, having moved even further along the pass than the rest of them, also along the time, avoiding any possible Zinovek patrols in order to be close enough to have a direct effect on them. It was still over a hundred yards between her very well-hidden position and their front line, but it was also only a little over a hundred yards. Still, it was her brilliance that was going to bring their monster to life.

It was Sensation who was actually starting this little operation, and it would be the beginning of her transmutation that signaled everyone else, because it had been too risky to put her on radio so close to the enemy.

Still, the timing would be perfect. It was nearly dusk, and the light would mess with people's eyes as well.

Out of nowhere, down the shadowed pass, small luminescent balls of glowing colored light began to waver out of thin air, as if rippling on waves. Only knowing what they were—some of Caroline Flynn's well-crafted alchemical illusions—was it clear to him that they weren't actually there at all, even though his eyes and mind were telling him they were. Meticulous work as usual.

That was Felix's cue. Ted watched as his compatriot placed his hands on the prepared transmutation circle, and up from the ground several yards down the path dirt rose up and moved, snaking across the ground as if there was something very large, and very long, slithering beneath it. With the movement of the dirt it rumbled threateningly, which echoed nicely in the high-walled pass.

The ground shook, the walls vibrated, and Ted prepared to assist with his part as he knew the others were bracing in their own locations.

It took all of them working as one to create what erupted from the ground in the middle of the pass, nearly equidistant between the two armies…a winding snaking beast whose core was thick deep roots, wrapped in a body of dirt of Ted's making, and pure shimmering multi-faceted ice-scales that came from Glacier. He gave the ice snake her face, and mouth, and it moved and hissed more lifelike than any puppet. As she erupted, lightning crackled down from the sky above, striking between her and the Zinovek front line. Again, and again, and it struck the very front of their line, hitting a tank. All the while Sensation's careful manipulation of energies made their Ishkala the most real and terrifying beast ever to crawl the earth, with eyes of glowing brilliant blue, her dancing attendants of glistening light-spirits that called the lightning to destroy the unfaithful…. It had been a story designed to keep children in their houses at night, where they were safe away from something even more terrifying than bears or wolves.

Ishkala was not known for mercy or forgiveness, but cold judgement and even colder fury.

Ted wished he could see the expressions of the Zinovek men as their tank exploded and crackled, and the beast hissed and thrashed, flinging shards of ice-scales along with the lightning. As both of those were real enough, and doing immediate damage, there was no reason the enemy shouldn't believe what their senses were telling them was attacking.

Which was precisely what Ted could hear in the distance, even at this range, as people shouted and screamed. To their credit though, most of them weren't running…. Yet. Working his own transmutation, he could no longer look through the binoculars, but they had soldiers stationed at various points with radios reporting back to Niki, who was grinning broadly.

:It's working,: Niki told him. :The front line has no idea what to do against your monster and they've scattered, as two tanks have exploded so far, and a berm., but it doesn't look like they've given up yet. They're rallying. They probably have more munitions further back.:

:Of course they do.: Ted would have been shocked if they didn't, or if they had just given up and run. Panic or no, they couldn't afford to abandon their position. Savahin and the rest of the Zinovek party weren't exactly benevolent or merciful leaders. Anyone who deserted would have a price on their head and a shoot to kill order for as long as the new government remained in power in Petrayevka. :The question is how many monsters can they stand up to, and how long can we keep this charade going?: He had little doubt that eventually their clever little alchemical beast would take a direct hit that they couldn't convincingly slough off, and she would have to die dramatically, but hopefully she would put enough fear and confusion into the enemy that they would hesitate to go on the offensive. If this worked, he fully intended to work up a few more nightmares for them. In fact, he had a whole list of ideas; some from Drachman folklore, and others entirely of his own devising.

Ishkala meanwhile roared and spat, shot ice and lightning, and moved forward, causing utter mayhem on the enemy line.

:They're rallying,: Niki warned as something crackled over the radio. :Looks like they haven't pulled up the big guns yet, they've just managed to grab their rifles. They weren't expecting an offensive attack this evening.:

:That was the idea.: The beast was taking all of his focus now, to feel not only his own alchemy at work, but the energy of the others involved in creating their incredibly complex creature. Glacier, as the exterior, was its eyes, and the rest of them had to follow his lead and his energy. It was the first time any of them had worked together this tight-knit, even in the time they had been together as a team, but none of them had hesitated at Ted's suggestion. Or maybe they had just gotten used to their leader having wild notions that always seemed to work. Ted wouldn't have suggested it if he hadn't been fairly certain they were good enough to pull it off.

The first volley of rifle shots barely made a dent in Glacier's ice which was, impressively, incredibly hard and dense despite the short amount of time he'd had to create it. The few shots that could hit it, with Sensation messing with their heads, glanced off at angles. Ted hoped his people were staying low and out of sight and range like they were supposed to.

Ishkala reacted with a monstrous icy roaring noise of irritation, thrashing and flailing, and more lightning struck the earth among their men and more ice scales flew. Another volley did less damage, but Ted could sense some of the ice starting to fleck off, and Glacier having the beast react appropriately.

They had discussed when to pull back, if given the opportunity. Using her more than once could be useful if the enemy didn't kill her off, but it was much safer to push their limits with an alchemical puppet than real lives.

Glacier knew this, and so did Felix, and Ted felt their energy with his as they moved Ishkala right up into the front lines in a surge of anger, her icy coils ripping through the lines, beating men flat or sending them flying. In a rage, she surged into their camp, knocked over three supply trucks, demolished a make-shift shed, and did enough damage that Ted hoped no one noticed she had yet to try and actually bite or eat anybody.

:They're bringing up another tank!: Niki warned Ted, and the other alchemists who had radios with ear-pieces. :Now might be a good time for your grand finale.:

Ted felt the energy between them change, and a subtle nudge downward was the only warning he needed before Ishkala let out a scream, a violent barrage of ice and lightning, and then dove, plowing deep into the earth so hard it shook, and Ted marveled at the cleverness of Tringham, who used their root-base to actually dig, pushing dirt out of the way with a little clever alchemy, and the head of the snack went down many feet and took a sharp bend before any of them began to let her parts dissipate, and as the tail followed, it too was allowed to vanish, leaving nothing on the surface but wreckage and a hole down which no human would dare try to squeeze into, but through which the giant snake might return at any time.

:What are they doing now?: Ted asked as he lifted his hands off his transmutation circle and released the energy. Despite the cold he was sweating profusely.

:Staring in horror at the ground mostly,: Niki replied. :It doesn't sound like any of them have figured out yet that it's alchemy and not a magical nightmare beast.:

:At the moment, there's not necessarily much difference,: Ted replied, feeling incredibly satisfied. :If they've never been exposed to alchemists, than they have no idea what to expect.:

:I worked with you for months, and I still often don't know what to expect,: Niki pointed out. :This is nothing like what I saw you do in the East.:
Ted shrugged. :This isn't something I could have ever pulled off by myself. Oh sure, I could have thrown together a puppet that attacked people, but it would not have been nearly as convincing, or powerful, and I could not have added all the additional effects. It would have been a much more basic construct.: He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his forehead. :Tell the others to withdraw and come back in to camp. We'll let them chew on this for a day or two and see what they do next.:

:And if they get cocky?:
Ted grinned. :Then they might just get a repeat visit from a vengeful mountain spirit.:

Niki shook his head, but even he looked impressed. :If I were them, tonight I would be incredibly drunk.:

:If I were them, I'd be rethinking my life choices right about now.: Ted stood up, protected by the boulder they were behind, and followed Niki back towards camp. :Though a drink doesn't sound too bad either.:

:Well, it's not our home vintage, but I'm sure we've got something around here that won't take paint off a tank,: Niki assured him. :Palaces, prison breaks, ancient Drachman beasts, I'm beginning to believe most of your crazy stories.:

:You mean you didn't before?:

:Oh, I figured they had to be true at the base, but I did think you'd exaggerated a bit. I'm reconsidering my stance on that. Though you're definitely straight up nuts.:

:What makes you say that?:

:You did willingly marry my sister.:
:I would have thought you'd have felt it was the other way around.: That her marrying him was nuts.
Niki laughed. :You'd think so, but I know my sister. You deserve each other.:
Ted decided to take it as the compliment it seemed to be intended.

November 23rd, 1990

One thing Sara could say the Drachman military knew how to do, was camp in the cold. She had been given a small officer's tent all to herself. It was the tightest, least leaky, warmest tent she had ever been inside. The damp outside rarely crept in at all, even first thing in the morning. Impressively, each officer tent also came with a small portable stove into which coals from the camp fires could be placed, and it would radiate heat all night long. While the tent wasn't toasty, it was a far cry warmer than it would have been, and it was balmy compared to the camping she remembered from the last war.

The furniture and bedding were top notch for military campaign gear as well. No wonder they were less bothered by the weather than we were. While she had no way to effectively send letters home, she also had a folding desk and a portable lantern for her use. Tonight, she sat at it anyway, composing her notes for things she wanted to tell the rest of her family when she got home, and possible plans for how they could effectively defend the pass when action finally came. This included training regimens with their alchemy team, which was most of what they had done that day. Drills working in pairs and swapping out who each alchemist was working with to get them used to working together. Each task was designed to make them not only stretch their thinking, but find ways of working together. Sara and Cal had made a point of not working together themselves, to avoid giving Trisha and Ryan—Rapid—any ideas of how to use their alchemy together, given the similarities in styles. Sara and Trisha had also not paired off, given they had been working together ever since Sara had been given medical clearance to resume her alchemy.

Now, after dinner, it was nice to relax in her own space and let her leg rest. However much she had recuperated, Sara had to admit she was not where she had been before her kidnapping. The cold made her knee ache, and she was grateful for the warmth of the radiating stove, and for the carafe of hot coffee she had been allowed to leave the mess with all to herself; mediocre coffee, but it was strong and it was hot and that was enough.

A knock on one of the wooden upright poles by the door caused her to look up from her work. :Come in.:

The woman who came through the door was almost as old as she was, wrapped in a dark, umber colored wool coat, and had a look of open curiosity on her face. Sara was about to ask what she was there for, when she realized there was something vaguely familiar about those features. Not that she had a name…. but she almost never forgot a face. This one she had last seen disappearing into the night as Sara was taken into custody on a moonless Drachman night during one of her many escape attempts.

:I thought it was you,: the woman commented, smiling. :I had to see for myself.:

:It's been a long time,: Sara replied evenly. This woman was the first person to search her out who had been a fellow prisoner, and not a guard. :But yes, it's me.:

The other woman nodded. :It's good to see you, Amestris.:

Sara had been dubbed "Amestris" on day one as the only Amestrian in the place. Her Drachman had been, not terrible, but limited at rusty. That had changed quickly. Only a few of the prisoners—almost all nobility or government members or employees—had any grasp of Amestrian. She smiled back. :Good to see you, Cabbage.: The other woman's nickname had come, so she'd been told, from both the tiny crinkled waves of her short hair and a mishap on kitchen duty her first week in prison.
Cabbage laughed. :I haven't been called that in ages. My name is Tonya.:

:Sara,: she introduced herself, :Though you probably already know that.:

Tonya nodded. :I worked it out.:

:Please, sit down,: Sara offered, motioning towards the edge of her bed and pouring a second cup of coffee in the spare she'd brought in just in case of company. There was always someone else coming in who needed coffee in an officer's tent. :Where did you go, after the escape?: she asked curiously as Tonya took the offered cup and seat.

: South, one of my sons has a place in the mountains; remote fishing cabin on a small lake. I hit out there a while until they stopped hunting for us and then moved into Franale, changed my name, and got a job working as a supply clerk.:

:So you're here with logistics.:

Tonya nodded. :Not a fighter, but I wanted to be part of this. Valhov was the one who got me and my husband locked up in the first place, so he's the reason he's dead. No interest in letting any of his kind run this country.:

A common theme. Sara nodded. There were a lot of possible responses, but it seemed best to go with something general. :He deserved what he got.:

:I heard his own men killed him,: Tonya commented, but her expression said she had other ideas. :Funny thing though, it was right after he told the whole world you were his hostage, then just a few days later Amestris has you back and the man is dead.:

:I didn't kill him,: Sara replied. That was not a rumor she needed getting around. "Not that I wouldn't have, given the opportunity.:

:I saw how you got here,: Tonya's eyes gleamed, smugly knowing. :It explains a few things.:

Sara wondered how many other people in Drachma had figured out how Sara really got away and back to Amestris so quickly. Or if most had not cared enough to put in the thought and effort into it. Clearly, Tonya had never forgotten the Amestrian alchemist that had orchestrated multiple break-out attempts despite being the prisoner they were most determined to stop and recapture. What about others?

:When did you figure out it was me?: Sara indulged her curiosity.

:The moment he showed you on the television. I would have remembered you even if it had been ten or even twenty years.:

Flattering, she supposed. :I suppose I left an impression. Have you seen anyone else we knew?:

She was grateful when Tonya was willing to shift the focus of the discussion off of Sara herself. :Only a couple. I expect most ran farther than I did, and you weren't the only one caught, or killed.:

:Are they here?:

:No. Uchiori-the one with the scar on his nose- passed through my town last year. He moved to Kartos, of all places, and works in a fish canning factory near the ocean. He was back to visit his sister and heading back to Kartos when I saw him. That was right before the coup.:

:The others?: That particular escape attempt had involved nearly a dozen people.

:The Olshins –the brother and sister—are now in the resistance. We might see them, but they're in the East, so it's unlikely.:

Sara vaguely remembered these people. Names had rarely been exchanged. They were numbers to the guards, and nicknames to the rest of them. :I'm just glad I was able to help someone.:

":Well, I'd always hoped there was some way I could have helped you,: Tonya admitted, running a hand through her short, white curly hair.

The last thing Sara wanted was for the other woman to feel obligated. She must have felt that way for years. :You did enough just helping in the escapes. Nothing that happened to me was your fault.:

:Still, if there is anything just ask.:

Sara smiled as she thought of something she could ask for. She held up her mug. :Can you procure us some better coffee?:

For a moment, Tonya looked startled. Then she smiled back. :I'll see what I can do.: