February 9th, 1996
It's been a long time since I was that stupid, Tore thought to himself as he stood under the steaming hot shower, letting the water wash over him and slowly bring him back to life. Ironically, for all that it had been years since he'd been really drunk, he'd definitely had worse hangovers. His tolerance had not dropped as low as he had anticipated.
His head pounded, pain piercing his skull, but other than a mild sense of queasiness, his stomach was fine. What he wouldn't have given for Charisa to be home to tsk at him or scold. If she were here, I wouldn't be in this state. I can't believe I got drunk in front of Brandon. Tore had no idea if Dare had any memories old enough to remember Tore ever being hungover, but he had never had a reason to get drunk after he and Charisa got married, so he could only imagine what Brandon was thinking this morning.
Not that he had the luxury of a nice slow recovery today. Tore couldn't afford to be late back to Headquarters. Anastas would want reports, and Tore only hoped there was new information—from any office—that would lay his worst fears to rest. Head still splitting, he left the shower, dried, shaved, and pulled on his uniform. By the time he'd combed his hair into some semblance of order he looked surprisingly normal, if a bit grim. No one would question grim.
The wafting scents of breakfast up from the floor below told him that Brandon was already up and in the kitchen. Tore remembered Brandon drinking with him, but he didn't think the boy had drunk much. Though his memory was a bit fuzzy on that. He headed downstairs. "What's on the menu this morning?" he asked as he entered the kitchen.
Brandon looked up from the counter, where he was finishing up two plates. He smiled, though it looked a little tentative, and relieved. "Oh good, you're just in time. This morning's culinary delight is herbed eggs and fresh avocado on whole-grain toast, with a side of fresh orange and banana. That, and I've got a fresh pot of coffee that should be ready to in just a minute. It's a particularly robust blend I discovered from South-East Xing. High on the caffeine, but low on the bitter. How would you like it this morning?"
Tore looked at the nicely plated meal and tried not to shake his head. He would have, if it wouldn't have hurt like hell. He certainly had no concerns about Brandon's ability to make food people would want to buy. Though he would never have thought to cook something so elaborate for himself after a night's drinking. Yet the smells all seemed to appeal this morning. "Black," he replied to the coffee question. "This looks fantastic."
"It's a personal specialty," Brandon smiled. "Designed to rejuvenate and beneficial after a night like last night."
"Beneficial huh?" Tore looked at the food more curiously. Sure, eggs and toast went down pretty well even on a rough stomach, he knew that only too well, but he'd never heard anyone in the military tout a hangover cure that qualified as a gourmet breakfast.
"Trust me on this." Brandon set the plates on the little kitchen table then went back for the pot of coffee and mugs. "Everything in this meal, even the herbs and spices chosen, is good for curing a sour stomach and a sore head. It just also happens to be delicious."
"Nice to see I get some benefit to paying for all those cooking and nutrition courses." Tore took a fork and cut into the corner of the dish, taking a bit of toast, avocado, egg, and all. When it hit his mouth, he was briefly startled at the combination of flavors. He could not have said which culture the dish came from, because he thought he recognized spices from at least two: Aerugo and Xing for certain. Was that ginger? It had a nice bold flavor, without being hot or overwhelming, and when he swallowed, his stomach seemed quite happy to accept the food without threatening to eject it. "That's fantastic." He continued eating with less trepidation, pausing only to drink the coffee that was also everything Brandon had promised.
"I'm glad you like it." Brandon started eating as well. "Though I have to admit, I expected you to look a lot worse off this morning."
"I'm ashamed to admit I used to be pretty damned good at this." Tore tried to remember everything they had discussed last night. He had a reasonably clear memory of most of it. He had drunk a lot more and still shown up to work on multiple occasions. He didn't think he had ever mentioned any of the times he'd gotten so drunk he couldn't go in. Though those were half his lifetime ago. "When your mother gets home, let's not tell her about last night."
"I wouldn't think of it."
Tore eyed his son as they ate. "You seem completely sober this morning."
Brandon smirked. "Come on, Dad. Give me some credit."
"For your sensibility or your tolerance?"
Brandon chuckled. "It would have to be the first one," he admitted. "I only had one glass last night. You finished the rest of that bottle on your own."
"I suppose I should just be grateful I raised kids with more sense than I had at your age." Tore sighed, looking down at his food. "Or now, apparently."
"Don't you think you're making too big a deal out of last night?" Brandon asked.
Tore looked back up at his son just a little too quickly.
Brandon shrugged. "We're all under a lot of stress. I'm scared as shit about Mom missing too, and what's happening. The fact that we can't do anything about it is the worst, and it's not over. But we've got to do whatever we can to hold it together until… this is resolved; however, it turns out. You knew what you were doing last night, and you seem more with it this morning, so whatever you needed to let off last night I'm guessing it worked. I mean, unless you're planning to start doing this every night it's not a problem, right?"
"No, you're right." Tore nodded slowly. "And no, I'm definitely not going to be doing that again. You don't need to worry about me." Certainly not to that extent, anyway. He had too much work to do, and he'd meant what he had said last night. If they found out who was responsible for this, whoever they were, they were going to regret it. I'm not giving up on you 'Risa.
"You're thinking of doing something crazy, aren't you?"
Sara turned away from the wall of snow at the entrance to their cave, and the still-falling white beyond, and looked back at her nephew. "Have you ever tried transmutations that manipulate air?"
Ted blinked. Then he nodded. "Some. Not to the extent of what you and Whisper did the night you rescued Whitewater from the Zinoveks, but I've done at least a bit of just about anything anyone's been willing to demonstrate."
"Anything?"
Ted grinned. "Yes, that includes paying attention to everything I've ever seen Roy do. I am not crazy enough to go full out with fire, but I've got the basics of that down too. I just don't like to spread it around, for obvious reasons."
Every time she thought she knew the extent of her nephew's abilities; he surprised her again. Sara shook her head. As far as she knew, even her father had never actually tried to do flame alchemy. "I'll keep that in mind. At the moment, I'm debating if it's worth risking it to try a little weather manipulation. If it stays like this…even if a rescue team shows up, they could be in as much danger as we are."
Ted nodded. "If we can divert the worst of it, even temporarily, I should be able to get my team at least back up the ridge to the train, and keep them safe. There are a few fairly sheltered overhangs that shouldn't be full of snow."
"Good, because we're running out of time. If a team hasn't arrived by now, we may have to take more daring action." It was insane to send a party out in this to hike the distances to the nearest town, and the outpost, but Charisa's fever was not improving, and she wasn't the only one starting to come down sick, on top of their injuries. The food they had recovered, and the medical supplies, would only last a couple more days, perhaps as many as four if they were stretched thin.
"I'm up for trying anything you think we can accomplish." Ted cracked his knuckles. He didn't need to put on his alchemy gloves. He was already wearing them. "How do we do this?"
Sara had given it a lot of thought. With the two of them, and possibly Sensation, they ought to be able to create a brief, if fairly strong, warm air mass they could use to divert at least part of the storm away from their path of travel, and the train. There was no way it would be a long-term solution, but if they could give Ted even a couple of hours, it would be better than nothing. She called for Caroline Flynn, and outlined the plan.
"You never suggest anything small," Sensation quipped, though her serious expression said she was thinking it through. "It won't be easy, but I do think we can buy a couple of hours."
"All right then. Ted, get your team ready to go. As soon as they are, we'll do this. Then you'll need to get back up to the train as fast as possible."
"I'm on it."
Amalea folded the last shirt and placed it carefully in the suitcase, before putting what she was certain was the Twilight Alchemist's things back next to the suitcase and hanging bag she had pulled out of that same Berth. She knew those belonged to General Franz Heimler, because they held not only suits, but one dress uniform, with rank and medals carefully tucked away in their case.
In the investigation of the train, during lulls in the snow, they had pulled anything that hadn't been destroyed off the train, and once it had all been inspected, no one had objected to Amalea killing time by putting everything back in order as best she could. Since items had been kept with other items in the same cars, and berths, it wasn't too difficult to figure out what belonged to the same people. She wished she knew which items belonged to people who had survived, or who they had confirmed were dead but didn't have a name for, but since most people travelled with name-tags on their luggage, anyone she could identify, she tried to salvage what she could. If they lived, they would get most, if not all, of their belongings back. If they were dead… well their loved ones might want them.
"They should hire you to pack everyone for formal trips," Ryan commented softly as he entered the car. "I've never seen suitcases packed so neatly."
"Somehow I think State Alchemists still get paid better." Amalea smiled. "It just… it's something I can do while we're waiting. A little bit of order in the chaos. It's… soothing."
Ryan wrapped his arms around her shoulders from behind, holding her close. "That's good. I've been going stir-crazy trying to think and re-think of ways to deal with this weather, or the enemy if they come back."
"Both very good uses of your time, if a bit maddening."
The door behind them opened, and Amalea turned to see who it was as Ryan released her.
Lieutenant Poul looked a bit eager and nervous as he saluted. "The Brigadier General sends orders. The weather has temporarily cleared, so he wants you out to clear as much of the ground as possible to look for signs of passage, so we can start narrowing down which trails to try. We don't know how long it will last, so he wants everyone on the ground now."
Finally, something to do. Amalea nodded.
"We're coming," Ryan acknowledged the order.
Amalea and Ryan went back to their car, got their outer layers of winter uniform on, and joined the soldiers and the rest of the rescue crew outside. She wished they had someone with a specialty better suited to clearing the ground of the deep snow, which now bordered on a foot, with higher drifts in several places. Though most of the skills she could think of might have disturbed what was underneath.
She and Ryan did have a plan for this. A combination of energy from her electricity, and his water transmutations to bring the snow above freezing and melt it into the earth while doing minimal damage to anything underneath. Bodies, boot marks, dropped items, anything that might give them a direction to look, would be better than where they were now, with nothing.
They had pre-drawn out the circles during the days of waiting, and run through the plan several times. As many years as they had worked together, Amalea wasn't worried about whether or not they could pull off the transformation itself. In synchrony, they put their hands to the transmutation circles, and pumped alchemical energy into them. Then it was a matter of combining their energies, and keep the flow contained to the area they had marked off for the initial clearing. There was no point in trying to do it all at once since it would still take time to search each area, and around the train for about ten yards in each direction was already lower, having been solidly trampled by feet over the past few days.
Based on the number of dead, it had been presumed that the majority of the attack had come from the East. That meant that, logically, it might make the most sense for people escaping to go out the West side of the train. Started at the back of the train, where the cars were least mangled and the most people would have been able to flee quickly, they cleared an area about the size of a standard sports field. It all went up in a glowing flash, leaving the ground underneath surprisingly untouched, if warm and slightly dry to the touch.
"Well done." The Brigadier General nodded. "All right. Everyone spread out and search your designated area for any clues as to where any survivors, from either side, may have gone."
Having done the work of clearing the area, Amalea and Ryan hadn't been assigned a section, but that didn't keep her from wanting to get her own eyes on the ground. Also, she hoped, that maybe any missing people would have been able to see—or sense—their huge transmutation, and would know to come out.
Of course, there was always the possibility that the people coming out might be the enemy, but they were prepared to deal with them as well. Everyone had bulletproof vests on under their gear, and was armed appropriately.
Ryan nodded in the direction of the land they had just cleared. "Let's go see what we can find. It will also give us a chance to see how well the results turned out, so we can adjust it for the next section if we need to."
Ted was beginning to question his own sanity for volunteering, twice, to make the trek back up to the train for supplies and hopefully help. Even swathed this time in proper cold-weather gear, it was far worse than the first time. This time, they were slogging through snow that was anywhere from two-to-three feet deep all the way up the incline, which seemed steeper because of it. Even with the temporary clearing of heavily falling snow, the wind was sharp.
When I get home, I want a hot shower, and a hot meal, and a strong hot beverage, and my hot wife… Forget moving to Drachma. He might just try to talk her into a semi-tropical beach instead.
Of course, after days in a cave, trying to keep their children calm, warm, and not too terrified, Anika might be reconsidering that decision as well. Or not. He hadn't felt it was an appropriate time to ask.
The only thing making the trek easier was the fact that they were doing what Ted had said they would, and hugging the wall that had the most overhangs and ledges to give them brief reprieves out of the snow and wind, where they could pause and catch their breath. That, and Ted and the two soldiers that had come with him took turns at the front of the line, breaking through the fresh snow.
Each time they stopped, Ted took a minute to transmute the outer layer of their clothes dry again, making sure the cold and wet didn't seep through to the inner layers. They were still cold, and he wasn't sure his toes would ever feel properly thawed again, but it was better than the alternative. Without alchemists on this trip, everyone would probably be dead now.
It was just one more sobering thought on top of the rest of them.
About a quarter mile from the train, Ted had them stop one more time at the last available windbreak. As they stood, breathing heavily into the scarves wrapped around their faces, he squinted up the hill, plotting their path for the last ascent, which was also the steepest incline. One which he was still amazed no one had twisted an ankle on in their original mad descent in the dark.
He was so focused he jumped slightly when the Drachman soldier with him spoke very softly, in heavily accented Amestrian… "We're being watched."
Ted barely had time to turn and look the direction in which Diminov had nodded his head, before he saw the attack coming. Or rather, felt it… "Shit, they've got alchemy!" he shouted, ducking behind the small bolder to his left and slamming his hands into it… transmuting quickly as it shot upward and formed a barrier that blocked a spear of bright blue ice that half-shattered on impact, stopping with the tip two inches through Ted's wall.
So much for hoping the enemy was dead, or they had given up and retreated. How long had they been out here?
"I can't get a clear shot at them!" Warner barked. He had planted himself tightly in the corner, where a crack gave him a slight view, and just enough room to stick the barrel of his rifle through. "How many are there?"
"I only saw one," Diminov reported.
"One's enough if they sent an alchemist after us." Ted grimaced as he kept transmuting, thickening the wall. One thing for sure, they were now effectively pinned down.
And was this all of them…. Or had he just left them a clear and obvious track back to the others?"
Come on, Elric. If you ever needed a fast and brilliant plan, it's now.
Any illusions regarding the relative safety of their cave were shattered as Franz heard shouting at the top of the cave near the entrance and then the too-familiar sounds of gunfire and transmutation energy.
They were followed by the sounds of running feet, both up and down, and the echoes filled the space, making it difficult to make out individual voices other than it was clear that they were under attack, and Sara was demanding anyone who could fight to the front of the cave now.
Sheer stubborn pride made him attempt to stand, but he didn't make it more than a couple of inches before he dropped back on his ass on the ground, his ankle and face both throbbing in fresh, agonizing pain from the motion. The sound of his own heart pounding blended into, then overwhelmed the other sounds around him.
This was not the time to panic. He took a long, deep breath, and let it out. "Who's still down here?" he finally spoke aloud. He hadn't been able to make out specific faces or even really shapes as fast as people had rushed for the entrance.
"Not many of us," Gloria replied just off to his left. "Just the injured, infirm, and I've got the little ones."
"No one's getting in here. Not on my watch." That, from Anika, sounded like she had stopped at the bottom of the tunnel. If anyone got that far, she would be a last line of defense. Franz wouldn't dare get between Anika and her kids. She was as fierce as the tigers she raised and cared for.
And one useless General. "What's the plan? Do we know who's attacking?"
"A defensive line at the door," Anika answered. "The Alchemists have it blocked as much as they can without cutting off our air or trapping us inside. Everyone else with a gun is doing their best to hit the enemy. Apparently, they were better equipped for the weather, and just waiting for a break… which we gave them. We don't know how they found us, but there sounds like at least half a dozen of the enemy shooting."
Franz cursed silently… keeping his mouth shut at the last moment as he remembered that his great-nephews were within ear-shot. "I have to do something." His frustration came out in a growl.
"What can you do?" Gloria asked, and while her tone was sincere, the question stung.
"I can defend." He had to move…he had to get up… he had to protect them. He should be commanding a defense, not laying helpless waiting to be a victim. "If I can get to the entrance… give me a knife. Call the attack if needed. I don't need to see more than an outline to make a kill." He tried again to stand, grimacing, and biting back a snarl as he pushed himself up.
He was just barely standing when someone shoved a bottle in his hand. :We are out of painkillers,: one of the injured Drachman soldiers said. :You will want this first.:
Franz sniffed the open bottle, and his nostrils flared open at the strong waft of alcohol… the scent of Drachman vodka. :Thank you, friend.: He took a long swig, felt the burning sear its way down to his stomach, until it landed, and the warmth began to spread through him. It took a couple of drinks before he began to feel like he could ignore the pain. The pain was not better, but it could be ignored. He handed the bottle back, and allowed the other soldier to lead him to the beginning of the tunnel, where he placed himself opposite Anika. The soldier, fevered but functional, sat several feet back from the entrance.
Franz made himself hold the knife properly instead of clutching it. He just hoped he didn't end up having to use it.
At least six people at the very edge of being in-range, all at different angles shooting down from ridges in the cliffs above them. Sara knew there were at least six. Sensation had reached out with alchemy to take stock of the situation and identify them. Her ability to manipulate the senses meant that she could generally find people by reaching out and locating people on whom she could use those abilities.
The trail back up to the train was straight in front of the entrance to their cave, with the ridges to either side of it being where the enemy had set up, able to shoot from two directions. Sara had no idea if there was anyone directly above them, except that she knew it was a sheer cliff straight up for two hundred feet, and anyone shooting straight down would have a terrible time of it.
Right now, they were rotating attacks in volleys, with the few soldiers who had provided security shooting back, then alternating with any attacks the alchemists could get off. The angles were terrible on both sides, which was all that reassured Sara they hadn't somehow wandering into a trap by coming into the cave in the first place.
Sara's hope was that while they were unlikely to hit the enemy directly, they might be able to blow the rocks out from under them, sending them toppling to the ground below, wounding or killing them. Even if they survived and came head-on, the angle would be much better for combat, and she could reasonably order an offensive fully using the abilities of the alchemists.
Unless that happened, she would have to hope that the enemy wouldn't be expecting Ted and the others to come up on them from behind.
Presuming, of course, that they hadn't already taken him and the others down. She couldn't place hope in back-up arriving either.
It had become quickly apparent that the alchemist above was their only assailant. Or at least, the only one attacking. Perhaps he or she was also stranded like they were, but hoping to pick over their bodies for supplies?
Plausible, but it felt wrong, and Ted was used to trusting his hunches. It was just shocking to have someone attacking with alchemy this side of the border. Not that there was a rule about it. They didn't have to be Drachman either…
If they were, they were far too well trained. Protecting the two soldiers, Ted was still fully pinned down, and the alchemist was wearing away at every layer of defense he threw up. If they wanted out of this, he was going to have to go on the defense, distract them, and take them out.
"I have a plan," he told the others, without losing a moment's focus on the transmutation he was performing. "On my count, I'm going to drop this barrier. I want the two of you to dive in opposite directions, taking your best shots at our friend up there and try and keep them distracted."
"What will you be doing?" Warner asked.
"Charging straight up the front with an alchemical barrage." He already had it planned exactly which transmutations he would use, because once he was in motion, he would be limited to what could be done with the general-purpose circles stitched into his gloves, and the few pre-drawn ones he kept tucked in his pockets at all times for others. If he could get in close, he might not even need alchemy. Most alchemists that were not trained as Amestrian State Alchemists weren't really combat specialists.
"Ready on your orders, Sir." Dimirov nodded.
"All right… counting down to three… two… one…. Dive!" Ted dropped the wall, slammed his hands into the ground, and used every piece of rock, dirt, and ice that the alchemist on the ridge had hurled at them and sent it hurling back into the air like a hurricane, tightly spiraling as it slammed it all right back up into the space where they were standing.
Warner and Dimirov rolled, hit points behind other rocks, and started shooting.
In seconds, Ted was on his feet, charging across the ground towards the cliff, moving as fast as he could under the explosion of debris he had just released into the air. He had to hit his point fast enough or it would all be coming down on him too.
Twenty yards. Ten…five… Ted bounded forward, slamming his hands into the ground long enough to create what he thought of as an elevator of earth…a rapidly climbing pillar that was classic Fullmetal…. He'd have to thank Grandpa for it later.
The offensive switch had definitely caught the enemy off guard. They dove out of the way, avoiding both bullets and mountain detritus… avoiding both. But they recovered quickly, and Ted found himself leaping from the pillar in a diving roll onto the flat ridge top to avoid another spear of ice. He came up into an immediate crouch.
Fifteen yards was all the distance between him and the enemy alchemist, who was still crouched on the ground, a circle scratched out in the earth. Their expression was unreadable, given the face was entirely covered, including dark-tinted glasses designed to help with glow glare.
Someone else might have quipped about a chance to talk it out like civilized human beings.
Ted didn't give them a chance to move, sending a wave of earth rolling beneath them, slamming the enemy and knocking them to their feet.
Or almost. At the last second, they jumped, rolling and coming up as well, sketching another circle with surprising speed.
An alchemy duel… outside of training, Ted had never had to face another alchemist in all-out combat.
He changed tactics, then changed them again, and again, as his opponent did the same. Slinging rocks, earth, snow, ice, short bursts of gale force wind…. And getting most of them back in return.
Ted had to close the distance. The gunfire had stopped… they were too far from the edge to be visible, and there was no way for Dimirov and Warner to get to them. Ted was on his own.
Slowly they danced in a circle of destruction, moving closer and closer… Ted only needed a few…more…feet…. But it was going to be some time in coming.
Ryan couldn't have mistaken the feeling for anything else when someone—possibly two someones—started transmuting like crazy not too far from their location. The sounds echoed up one of the passes, and he could feel the energy, they were using so much, even if it was clearly at some distance.
He looked up sharply, and saw Amalea do the same at almost the same moment. "General!" he shouted. "There's a huge amount of alchemical energy coming from that direction!" He pointed. "It feels like they're in combat, Sir."
The Brigadier General joined them quickly, clearly listening. Around them, every soldier had stopped moving.
Alchemy, and gunshots…though the shooting fell away quickly. Which meant… "They're fighting another alchemist!"
"Rapid, Live Wire, grab one of the snow-mobiles and follow that energy. Lieutenant Garren, take your men and follow with all speed. The rest of you will remain here. The last thing we need is someone ambushing us from the rear now."
"Yes, Sir." Ryan and Amalea ran back to the train, and the make-shift vehicle garage that had been set up out of sheet metal beside it. He grabbed the helmets, handing one to his wife as he jammed the other on his head. "You drive!" he shouted as he stood back long enough for her to get on first, then hopped on behind her, buckling in, and then holding her waist lightly as she stepped on the gas. Not only was Amalea better qualified on the two-person snow vehicle, but if they needed to start slinging combative alchemy around while moving, he had the better offensive talent for this environment.
He just hoped they got there in time.
Fire shot straight at Ted's face with a searing heat he felt even before he threw himself to the left. Cursing loudly in Drachman, he extinguished it with a blast of cold wind, but not before he smelled the shoulder of his coat smoldering…and possibly hair.
Who the hell is this person?! Their alchemy was as varied as his.
"If you want to play with fire, take this!" he shouted, yanking the circle he hadn't really planned on using out of his pocket and transmuting into it for all he was worth.
A geyser of flame shot out across the intervening space, and in that moment, the enemy alchemist did a perfect swan dive off the edge of the cliff.
Shocked, Ted ran to the edge. There was no way he was lucky enough that the other alchemist would have just decided to do his job for him. And indeed, they hadn't.
Right before leaping, while he was distracted, they had transmuted a sliding ramp of dirt back down to the pass below and—with surprising dexterity—had rolled and slid right on down to the ground and transmuted some kind of board out of the snow itself, and was now sliding down the hill, rapidly away. Behind then, the soldiers were shooting, but they didn't have any hope of hitting.
Panting, Ted took a moment to take stock of himself. Yes, his hat, scarf, the edge of his jacket, and a couple of inches of hair on that side were a singed mess…but it hadn't burned down to the skin. Aside from his pride, he hadn't sustained any serious wounds.
"Transmuting the ramp into something more resembling stairs, he made his way down to the ground at a slightly slower pace. "You'll never catch them!" he shouted to Dimirov and Warner.
Not for the first time—or probably the last—Ted cursed their lack of radios. He would have to trust to the constant guard of State Alchemists at the front of the cave to take care of them if they got that far. There were three alchemists and several more armed guards… surely, they could handle one rogue alchemist.
He had a stitch in his side by the time he reached the ground. Living in Central has made me soft, he thought, mildly disgusted. When he'd been living in the hidden Marskaya compound, or fighting in the last war, that would have seemed like nothing. Not that they trudged through this much snow first on the regular… but still.
"Are you all right, Proteus?" Warner asked as they joined him.
Ted nodded. "Fine. Just frustrated. There's no way for us to catch up."
From behind him, he heard the sound of a motor.
"Someone approaching from the East, Sir." Dimirov barked, spinning quickly.
Ted and Warner turned to face up the hill as well, as a two-person snow-vehicle came whipping around the corner.
Ted was grateful for good eyesight. "Don't shoot!" he waved them both down. "It's Amestrian." Military issue, and the two people on it were in clear military colors. Help had apparently arrived!
Or at least, some level of help. Ted laughed out loud with relief as it pulled to a stop beside them, and the two riders pulled up their helmets to reveal the faces of the Live Wire and Rapid alchemists. "You have no idea how glad I am to see you."
Rapid grinned. "Oh, I might have some idea. We should have known it was you. Who the hell were you fighting? We could feel the energy all the way back at the train!"
"Enemy alchemist, identity unknown," Ted replied. "But I need you to keep going. They're probably already halfway to the others by now, and even if I transmuted us a toboggan, we wouldn't catch them in time. Twilight and the others need to know the enemy is coming, and if you don't beat them, they'll need the backup…. And the healing. We've got injured."
"We've got both to spare," Live Wire smiled grimly. "There are men coming right behind us, though we're the only alchemists. If you need back up, you've got it. Though you three should continue to the train, and tell the Brigadier General what's happening. There's more of these there too." She patted the handle-bars.
Which ran completely counter to Ted's frantic urge to order Rapid off, and ride with Live Wire back to the cave to protect his family.
It took every ounce of common sense he could drum up to nod, and start back up the hill. He picked up the pace. The faster he got there, the faster he'd be able to talk whichever officer was in charge of this mission into sending more men—or at least loaning him a vehicle—and get back.
The one thing Sara could say she appreciated about this cave; its entrance had turned out to be very defensible. Outside, the enemy still rained down bullets, but they mostly missed, vanishing into the snow or ricocheting off the stone exterior. They rarely bounced into the cave itself, and so far, the worst wounds sustained by anyone were a couple of grazing shots on upper arms, and one to the cheek of one of the Drachman security guards.
But they weren't making any progress in picking off the enemy either, and according to Sensation, the number had increased by three. Whoever had come for them, they apparently hadn't succeeded—or did not know if they had succeeded—in their mission. Whoever they wanted dead, was probably still in this cave.
Not that that narrows it down. It could be the Drachman dignitaries, or Charisa, or herself and Franz…. Or even someone with a grudge against the Marskaya family.
If they managed to capture one of them, Sara was going to have a lot of very pointed questions.
"How long are they going to keep this up?" Polar growled as he stepped back, letting the soldiers with guns take the next volley. "They have to know they can't drive us out like this."
"Maybe they're just holding us here until reinforcements arrive," Sara hypothesized. "That, or all they have to do is keep us in here until we run out of food, and start dying off, or until we give up. We know they were expecting a fight, because their original attack was offensive, and they had a lot of men and women prepared with heavy weaponry. Though they still managed to under-estimate the defensive capabilities of the security on the train…and us." She would pay them back for the loss of every single life they had left behind in the snow.
"That doesn't make our chances sounds good," Bill, one of the Amestrian guards, quipped as he stepped back to reload his weapon.
"Nothing makes our chances sounds good," Sara pointed out. "If we're lucky, Ted and the others aren't dead in the snow, and they might get back here when they hear shooting." If her nephew came back, she had no doubt that a surprise attack from him would be effective… and with his usual fantastic timing. Which they weren't going to count on. "If we don't get a chance to take the offensive, they're just going to keep us pinned in here." It certainly didn't look like they had plans to come down.
"Do you hear… motors?" Sensation asked.
"Over all this gunfire?" Polar asked skeptically. He shook his head "You and your alchemy. They're probably bringing in reinforcements."
"Pessimist."
"I hear it." Sara confirmed. There was an engine…some kind of vehicle, which meant it had to be something designed for snow. "No way to know if it's friend or foe. Keep firing until we know if they're on—"
The rest of the sentence became irrelevant as an ear-shattering crack followed by blinding light streaked from the sky, striking the rocks directly below the group up and to the left. Screams filled the air as the enemy fighters plummeted to the ground with the rest of the ledge.
A moment later, the right simply collapsed under the weight of a sudden slide of snow that came coursing over the highpoint above them; a waterfall of thick white destruction…they were carried down the hill, right past the entrance of the cave…and away.
The familiar and unmistakable feeling of alchemical energy in the air told Sara and the other two alchemists, at least, what they had just witnessed.
The shooting had stopped.
"Proteus?" Polar asked.
Sara shook her head. "No… not his style, and there was too much power in both attacks for him to pull them off that quickly."
In the sudden quiet, marred only by the continued sound of snow and rocks rolling on down the mountainside, the engine of the small vehicle now visible coming across the snow echoed off the hills until it sounded like the worlds largest, angriest, honeybee.
It slid to a stop and shut off. The two people on it held their hands out, then slowly reached for their helmets.
Sara could have cheered as she recognized two of her favorite proteges. "It's about time you got here!" she shouted, crawling out past the mangled bank of snow at the opening of the cave.
Live Wire and Rapid both smiled at her; Ryan a big smug, and Amalea with relief.
They both jumped off the snowmobile. Amalea had a medical kit slung over her shoulder. "We saw Proteus on the hill. He battled an alchemist and told us to come after her. Did you… already deal with them?"
"An alchemist?" Sara stared at them for a moment. "No. If they made it this far, we never saw any signs of alchemy. Not until yours. Nicely done, by the way."
The other two alchemists frowned. "It's possible they decided to just retreat and regroup later," Rapid said finally. "Anyway, we're here to help. There are soldiers behind us, though I suppose you won't need the back up now."
"No, but we have ill and wounded, and they can help us move them. I presume you have a way to get us all out of here."
Live Wire nodded. "The rescue train is sitting up on the tracks, and there's still Brigadier General Fenniman and half the men guarding it. Just in case they decided to attack that one as well. Though this was the first we've seen of anyone since we arrived. It's one of those trains with the engine that can push and pull, since we figured on not having anywhere to turn around."
"Good. Live Wire, come with me, and you can see to our patients first. Rapid, Polar, when the men arrive, tell them to check for anyone living, or dead, out there in the snow. If we can capture someone alive, maybe we'll learn something about what the hell is going on here."
"What do you want me to do?" Sensation asked.
"Coordinate our evacuation effort," Sara replied at once. "Speak with whomever the commanding officers are, and make sure they get the right equipment down here to haul the wounded back up to the train. The rest of us can walk if needed, but they need to get out of this weather as soon as possible. Make sure you let them know the snow will probably start falling heavily again in the next couple of hours… on the long end…so we're in a hurry."
"Yes, Twilight."
Sara shook her head. Somehow, even in retirement, she found herself in charge. Not a single one of the Drachmans had objected once to anything she asked of them.
Anika did not lower her rifle until she heard Sara's voice call down the tunnel. "The fight's over! We've received reinforcements, and medical assistance. We're coming down."
A deep feeling of relief flooded through her, and she set down her weapon. "Roger that," Anika called back so they knew the message had been received.
"Mama, are we safe now?" Nikolai asked from the corner, where he and Eurion were snuggled up on either side of Gloria, daring to speak for the first time since the shooting began.
Anika smiled reassuringly. "Yes, solnyshka. Our friends are here."
On the other side of the entrance, Franz lowered himself back down to the ground, looking relieved, but also as if he was hiding extreme pain. Which, she presumed, he probably was, given the state of his broken ankle.
Sara appeared a moment later. Behind her came another alchemist Anika recognized from Central, Amalea Finn-Wilkes.
"Where do I need to start?" Amalea asked, squinting a little as her eyes adjusted to the dim light.
"With Charisa," Sara steered her to the correct corner. "She's got broken ribs, a broken arm, a concussion, and we think she's developing pneumonia. The fever's been high for almost a day-and-a-half."
Amalea blanched, then squatted down, pulled open her kit, and got right to work.
Franz waited patiently as Amalea worked on Charisa, who as it turned out did have a developing case of pneumonia, but Amalea diagnosed it as bacterial, which was fortuitous as she had antibiotics in her kit. Franz couldn't see what they were doing that far from where he sat, but he heard the conversations, and saw the slightly glow of alchemy he supposed must be from a circle. It wasn't a long session, but from what he gathered, Charisa was at least stable enough to be moved to the train.
"Your turn," Sara said, showing up beside him.
Franz shook his head. "I'll be fine. Have her look over the rest first."
"Don't be ridiculous." Sara's face was at just the right distance he could make out her scowl. "You can't even walk out of here until she takes a look at that ankle, and your face still is swelling. I'm concerned the wound is getting infected."
"All right, if you insist." He set the knife down beside him.
Sara was replaced with another blur that had to be Amalea. "I'll be as gentle as I can," the younger woman promised in a soothing voice. "But I can't promise this isn't going to hurt."
"It can't hurt worse than the treatment it's had already," Franz pointed out, trying to remain patient.
Amalea placed a glove hand on his arm. "You'll feel the alchemical energy, particularly in the area of your injuries," she warned.
Franz nodded. He'd had enough alchemy done on him over the years, that he knew what to expect. Anything had to be better than how he felt right now, even if he hated that it was necessary.
Almost at once he felt the warm current running through him, particularly over his injuries, which immediately throbbed. He grimaced, but refused to make a noise of complaint.
When she stopped, he blinked a few times, and twitched his leg. Both areas still hurt, but they were less painful. "What's the damage?"
Amalea removed her hand. "I was able to take the swelling down a bit, and your nose will heal straight. The exterior cuts were deep, but they're closed over now and they shouldn't get infected. Whoever braced your ankle did a good job, though you shouldn't put any weight on it. I was able to give it a few days' worth of healing, but it's not going to support anything for a few weeks. When we get you back up to the train, I can put you in something a little sturdier to keep it in place until it heals." She pulled something out of her bag, and he felt her placing pills in his hand. "Take those for the pain, and the swelling."
"I should tell you I ah… had something for the pain right before the battle started." Taking medication on top of vodka didn't sound like the wisest move.
Amalea nodded. "I know. I neutralized it," she replied softly. "Now if you'll just wait for the men to get down here, we'll see about getting you moved to a vehicle. Do not attempt to stand on that ankle," she added with startling firmness. "You'll undo all the work I just did, and I'm pretty sure Twilight will kill you… Sir."
Franz supposed he should be grateful that most subordinates were not as mouthy as State Alchemists, but he had always thought of Amalea as one of the quieter ones. Apparently being married to Ryan, and several years of experience, had made her bolder. "I'll stay put," he promised.
Amalea moved away, and he remained where he had been told, waiting as she checked out the Drachmans next, quickly healing small wounds and bruises, and treating oncoming colds. There was definitely more than one.
Anika otherwise was fine, as were the boys, and Gloria. By the time Amalea had checked on everyone in the cave, shouts from upstairs made it clear that the additional back-up had arrived. Franz hoped they had a plan for getting him out that didn't involve carrying him like a baby. He was embarrassed enough already.
Just a little longer, and they would all be on their way home. He hoped whoever was investigating up topside found something that would give them some answers. One thing Franz hated was being a target.
By the time Ted arrived back at the hide-out, riding on one of the snow vehicles that also had a flat tractor style bed that would be good for moving the injured, it seemed like whatever had happened at the cave was long over, and things were already back in order.
"What did I miss?" he asked Alexei as he got down and joined him.
Alexei held a shovel, and was helping dig-out what looked like a landslide. Next to it, there was a stack of enemy bodies. "The other alchemists got here in time to make things very unpleasant for an ambush."
Ted winced. "How many?"
"Nine, we think." Alexei gestured at the bodies, and the snow and rocks, where several soldiers were also digging. "We have not found more than this five, and the others were… washed away." He gestured down the hill.
Definitely Rapid and Live Wire's work. Ted nodded. "Any survivors?"
"Not that we've found," Aunt Sara said as she joined them. "If there are, they went that way." She thumbed over her shoulder and down the slope. "We sent soldiers down to see if they could find anything, but it's too dangerous to even dig for bodies." She frowned. "Live Wire and Rapid mentioned you fought another alchemist, but we never saw one. Or at least, if one was here, they declined to use alchemy."
"Then they weren't here," Ted replied with firm conviction. "Whoever they were, they were good in combat. Really good… and their skills were almost as varied as mine."
Sara looked skeptical, but he watched her take in the scorched nature of his clothes. Her eyes widened. "Fire?"
Ted nodded. "Not very strong, or well controlled, or I might be a smoking brick by now, but definitely a capable opponent." He decided it was a blessing whoever it was hadn't come down here, or the fight might have turned out differently. Though he couldn't help wondering where on the route they had disappeared. He'd have to take a closer look for transmutation marks… if there was time. "We should be cautious; in case they try and ambush us again on the way to the train."
"We'll keep an eye out," Sara agreed. "I'm glad to see you brought a few more vehicles with you. I don't suppose there's enough to move all of us?"
Ted shook his head. "No, but there's enough to carry the sick, injured, and the kids and Gloria. We can start loading anytime."
Alexei looked relieved. "I'll go to her now." He handed off the shovel and vanished.
Ted shook his head, but didn't comment. He certainly hadn't been any better. "I'm glad to see you all held your own. The fact that they found us, and coordinated an attack, with all that snow concerns me."
"It speaks to a higher level of preparation and coordination…and training, than your average train robbers, and some terrorist groups." Sara's scowl deepened. "We've got them stripping anything that might tell us something off these bodies to take with us."
"What are we doing with the bodies themselves?" Ted asked, not sure he wanted to know the answer. They could just leave them to the wilderness to be worn away, or eaten. There were bears, wolves, and big cats in this area.
"Leave them." Sara didn't look bothered. "They chose this life, and we wouldn't even know who to return them to. We probably wouldn't have any way to identify them anyway. Their belongings will be more useful. Our transmutation's effects are starting to wear off. Go get your family and let's get out of here."
Words Ted desperately wanted to hear. "Yes, Ma'am." He managed to refrain from saluting, and headed toward the cave, eager to make sure his family was all right. From the war zone out front, he would have expected far worse if things hadn't already been well in hand.
Anika threw herself into his arms as he reached the cave below, and kissed him passionately. He pulled her in tight, returning it with all the ardor and adrenaline still running through him. :Beloved. I'm glad you're all safe.:
:We are unhurt,: she assured him. :Though you were missed.: She reached up then, looking worried as she touched the burned edge of the fur of his coat hood, and the missing bit of his hair. :This will need trimming.:
:Not badly.: The past few years, after letting it grow out a bit in Drachma, Ted had taken to wearing it in a tail, though it never got as long as Grandpa's, or Uncle Ethan's. Trimming it up a few inches wouldn't hurt anything. :Better a little hair than other parts of me.:
He didn't have a chance to hear her reply, because at that moment Nikolai tackled his leg, and Eurion—still more stolidly toddling—grabbed the other. Anika stepped back, and he reluctantly let her go, before scooping up both boys into his already exhausted arms. "There's my brave boys," he grinned. "We're all okay now. Are you ready to go home?"
"Yes!" they both shouted in unison, and smiles he hadn't seen in days sprouted on their little faces.
"Good, because we have the coolest vehicles ever to ride on the way back."
As it turned out, the Brigadier General had already radioed back to Briggs the initial report of hearing alchemical combat, and Ted's arrival at the train to confirm survivors and return with additional rescue.
Somehow, Sara found herself on the radio almost as soon as they arrived at the train, giving a basic report of her own, with more details about the most recent fight, confirming who was alive, and promising a thorough report ready to go when they got back. So much for being done with those. She was sure Franz would actually be turning it in, but given his current state, she would be writing all of it. Franz was hardly in a state to go back into the office on arrival.
He had been cooperative and quiet when the soldiers hoisted him between two of them in lieu of crutches, and he hobbled up out of the cave, and was placed in the back of one of the vehicles, with the blankets they had originally liberated from the train being used as padding for everyone who was riding.
There were no private places to put people on the train, since it was designed for military use, and rescue, not comfort. Though she and Franz were at least placed in the quietest car, with what remained of the Drachman delegation. In the end, no other people had been found alive, though the unaccounted for few had been found dead.
By the time they all got back to the train, the snow was starting to fall thickly again, as expected, and with it, the dark of winter night, which came even earlier in the north than it did in Amestris.
"It's too bad your spare glasses were also broken in the crash," she commented as she sat beside Franz, leaning ever so gently against his shoulder, and wishing that the train had beds. The bench seats were hard, and barely padded.
"It's fine," Franz replied quietly. "I couldn't wear them right now anyway."
He made a fair point. While Amalea's bit of healing had closed the cuts, and healed things enough he was unlikely to bleed from the nose or sinuses again, and they didn't have to worry about brain damage or a major concussion, his nose was still mottled purple-and-black and swollen a bit beyond its usual size. He also had two fabulous black eyes going. "You do look a bit like a raccoon."
"I'm not sure I want to look in a mirror," Franz admitted. "It feels like I got punched in the face."
"Technically, you took a train to the face. I'm just grateful it wasn't worse." Sara was grateful he hadn't ended up with a concussion, or brain damage.
The thought reminded her of Charisa, down in the medical car, where Live Wire was monitoring her condition.
Franz squeezed her hand. "She'll be okay," he said reassuringly. "Amalea said she was stable, and she's an excellent alkahestrist. We'll all be fine now."
"I'll feel better when we're safely back across the border," Sara admitted. "This whole thing is a mess, and we don't even know who we're fighting. They were too well organized and effective for it to be your usual run-of-the-mill thieves. It definitely felt like they had a vendetta against someone, or at least, a specific reason to target us."
"Do you think it was us specifically?" Franz frowned slightly, then winced, and went back to holding his face still. He had eaten that way earlier as well; slowly, with small bites to minimize facial movement.
"Right now, there's the same statistical likelihood that it was you, or me, or the fact that the entire group of us were returning to Amestris to continue the talks. Someone either has a personal grudge, or a very strong reason to want political negotiations to fail. The fact that they have an alchemist capable of matching Ted in combat…"
"I'd definitely like to know where they trained," Franz nodded. "Once we have a chance to analyze everything we collected from the enemy, we can start tracking the items back to their sources. They had to buy supplies from somewhere."
"Well, that is your job." Sara kissed his cheek. She knew Franz would put all of Investigations to work on figuring out who these people were and what they wanted. If they didn't come forward with demands first. Sara had been surprised to hear that so far, no one had done so yet. Perhaps, this had gone far worse than they expected. Or… it might not be over. "Apparently they're beefing up security at all points on the way back, and in Central for the rest of the talks." Anastas—in agreement with the G.R.I.D. leaders—was determined that it was essential for the second half of the talks to continue. Particularly since the other bordering nations had already sent their representatives as well. There were several issues that needed international agreement if they wanted to avoid new border friction.
"What an inconvenient time to be injured," Franz grumbled. It was the first she had heard him complain.
Sara could absolutely understand that frustration. "I'm sure Volkhart will handle things until you're able to get back on duty." Which wouldn't take more than a few days, maybe a couple of weeks, if they could get in a few good sessions with Ren, or one of the other available alkahestrists.
"Oh, I'm sure she will," Franz agreed. "She's quite excellent at the job." He paused, yawning, and stifling it as much as possible.
Sara leaned against him a little more, and closed her eyes. "We should try and get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be busy."
Tore was still at Headquarters when the reports came in from Drachma, both from Investigations, and the one passed on to him directly from Rapid and Live Wire. Both were brief, but he knew he wouldn't get any of the details until they had access to a secure line. What mattered was that they had recovered the survivors, fought off a second attack by the enemy, and were on their way back now. They would be at Briggs tomorrow.
Then, hopefully, there might be some better answers. Tore hoped so, because the media was blowing up with theories about who was at fault, and public sentiment in both Amestris and Drachma was strained. Was it Drachmans who didn't want the borders reopened? Was it Amestrians who didn't want an alliance with the new Drachman states? Could it be both? Or, some smaller groups on the fringes were theorizing if it might not be one or the other governments behind it, or even another country trying to keep the two from cooperating.
Tore was doubtful on that last one, and he was too in-the-know to believe that either of the governments were behind it. Not that he was willing to entirely put aside the notion of a faction within those governments. After all, he had helped Heimler and Anastas in identifying the members of the military who had planned to vote Franz out, and disseminating them, and separating them from their critical supporters to minimize the possibility of a coup from the inside.
The new security plan for Central was going to keep his State Alchemists hopping. Even some of the alchemists normally assigned to research were being pulled for extra security details until the Diplomatic Summit was over.
Working on those assignments, and re-assigning alchemists elsewhere to cover more territory as they pulled additional security back to Central, Tore hadn't been home since his conversation the other morning with Brandon. A fact he was starting to regret, as his only options for food were whatever was in the Mess. Things were so hectic the break room in the State Alchemists offices had run out of food, and was down to the cheapest of cheap dark sludge coffee.
It had been a while since Tore had subsisted on coffee.
At the moment, he wished he had something to spike it with, because there was a single line in Live Wire's report which was—out of necessity—vague on the specifics of anyone's medical situation, that made him cold with dread.
C. C. – Stabilized for Transport. Monitoring condition.
Charisa was the only Amestrian sent with those initials, and compared to the other comments, it was clear to him from what wasn't said that she was not okay. Not if Live Wire had her as the only patient who had that notation. The only one who needed to be stabilized… or monitored.
At least, she's alive. For the moment… the last thought came unbidden. Tore wondered if the reports to Investigations or the President's Office had any more details. At this hour, he could probably get some answers.
Tore drained the last dregs of his cup of coffee, and went looking.
Investigations was as quiet as it ever got, and only because of the late hour. Volkhart did not look at all surprised when he entered. She gave him a sympathetic smile. "I can guess why you're here."
"I got the State Alchemists' report," Tore replied. "Given the lack of a secure line of communication using radios, it's understandably vague. I was hoping you might have more information about the status of the rescued."
"Probably not much more than you," Volkhart admitted, looking at the papers on her desk, covered in hand-written information. "Everything the officers passed on to Briggs, and to us, has been brief enough, and all information that doesn't lose us anything if the frequency had listeners." She flipped through the sheaf. "That said, there is a transcript here of what was reported by Sara Heimler." She handed it over.
Tore refrained from snatching it too eagerly. Most of it was the same as Live Wire's report, as far as anything alchemy related went. She did mention that Proteus had fought an enemy alchemist to a draw, and they had fled. There was a high likelihood the other alchemist had gotten away. There was more information on the two battles they had fought, and the confirmed casualties. He supposed that there was no harm, and much good, to be had from making it clear that many of the VIPs on the train had survived.
The only useful line in regards to Charisa was a statement that all injured would be treated at Briggs, and then if needed they would be admitted to the hospital in North City. Anyone well enough to come straight back through the Central would be arriving in the next three or four days. If Charisa needed serious medical care, he'd find out once they hit Briggs and had a secure phone line.
"Anastas says that the other delegations have agreed to delay the start of negotiations an additional week to allow time for the Drachman diplomats and the rest to get treatment, arrive, and get settled. I just got a message that we have a meeting at oh-eight-hundred to go over the new timetable, and the full security detail plan updates."
Tore nodded, and handed back the report. He had gotten that message as well. "See you then."
There was little point in hitting the President's office at that point, since really anything the President knew usually came through Investigations first. Anything else critical would be in the morning meeting.
Tore was tired of feeling constantly adrift. At least, having news, he could make a few calls and let friends and family know—before it hit the media—that their loved ones had survived.
He'd already had to make the calls to Magnesium and Bloodiron's families about the losses there. Those were always difficult, and his least favorite part of the job by far.
These calls, at least, would be better news.
Cal had been in bed, fitfully dozing and trying to drop off to real sleep, when the phone rang, startling them both awake.
Before he could even think about moving, Alyse had bounced out of bed and run into the other room.
Cal wished he could follow her. Instead, he lay there, impatiently waiting. No one called at this hour unless there was important news. And the only news important enough to warrant a call tonight was any information they might have about those still missing, and the rescue mission to find them.
Gloria… If he'd had the authority, he'd have forbidden his daughter from ever stepping foot in that country again. But he hadn't… and he had spent the past several days regretting it. Sleep eluded him. He felt fidgety, and anxious. When he did sleep, it was full of nightmares.
On top of him, the kittens had bolted upright, staring after Alyse, little ears alert for apparent danger. Cal reached out, stroking their heads, soothing them.
"Thank you for calling, Tore. I appreciate it," he heard Alyse in the other room. "Yes, good night." He heard her set down the receiver, and footsteps on the hardwood as she returned.
Standing silhouetted in the hallway, he could barely see her face. Then he realized there were tears, and his heart almost stopped. "Gloria…?"
Then Alyse smiled. "Alive. Alexei too… and everyone else in the family. There are injured, but from what information they have, Gloria's fine."
Cal felt the knot in his stomach begin to unclench for the first time in days. He held out his arms, and Alyse came back to bed, curling up against him. "Thank goodness… who's hurt?"
Alyse's smile slipped. "Tore didn't say, but from his tone, I think Charisa's one of them. He's exhausted, and wound tight. He sounds worried."
Cal wished there was something he could do for his friend, but Tore was a lot like him, and he doubted they would see him in person until things were resolved. In the old days, they'd have been in a bar by now… venting the stress and getting it out. Even if he could talk Tore into coming over—since he had no hope of carrying a drunk friend home anymore, or driving—Alyse would never allow anything strong enough to the purpose in the house.
Sometimes getting old and responsible really sucked.