April 8th, 1964
Three days of planning yielded a fairly solid strategy and all of the supplies needed to carry it out. It was not a complicated plan in theory, just in the implementation. They needed to plant explosives – set to timers of Winry's devising – in several strategic places designed to completely blow segments of several key systems; water lines, electrical cable junctions, and sewage pipes. The gas lines needed to be handled more carefully to avoid killing the Amestrians still inside, but sabotaging the lines would also guarantee ruin most of the coal and a bunch of other supplies kept in the lower levels of Briggs. They also planned to rig and destroy as much of the war equipment in the testing areas as possible. It was risky business, but if they pulled it off on the right shifts, and set everything to blow in quick sequence, they should all get out of the areas and be fleeing before anyone was the wiser.
"As long as we hit during the second night shift, there shouldn't be anyone working who might get killed," Ollie commented as they looked over the final elements of the plan. "They don't trust us, so they've been using Drachman guards on those shifts when no one is working. The lower areas where we just do maintenance are completely empty at night save one, maybe two guards on rotation."
"It's almost too easy," Winry couldn't help commenting as she looked at the map lying on top of piles of schematics.
"Almost," Aldon agreed next to her. "But if every one of these charges takes two minutes to attach and arm properly, and we assume the timers all work, than we're still not going to have a very big window to get them set up and get out of here." They had to be placed in a certain sequence, or the timers would be wrong, and they might start going off while the members of the team were still getting the others in place. "One-hundred and eighty charges in thirty minutes with twelve people is cutting it tight, but too many and we risk getting caught."
"We need the others as distractions," Brigadier General Larkin nodded as his eyes flicked continuously over the plans. "Or no one will get near those boilers near the tank bays."
That was the toughest point. It required the most quiet and the quickest rigging. Winry was not surprised that Ollie and Aldon had volunteered for that job themselves.
"We'll make it," Aldon replied confidently. "We spent a lot of time working on that system. I know just where to put them."
The charges were being placed on three floors and, if this worked, should render the base without power, water, and heat – and quite a few tanks – in several large areas. It should definitely make the point and keep the Drachmans busy enough to cover their escape.
"Good," Larkin replied. "I want everyone in position and ready to go at o-two-hundred."
That gave them a few hours to prepare and get ready. Winry followed Ollie and Aldon back to their little corner, where Kit had already packed up anything they were planning to take with them when they fled in a few hours. The explosives would go at two-thirty in the morning, and when they went, the evacuation would begin. The hope was that if everyone was focused on the destruction inside the Fort, the fleeing refugees would be missed or ignored.
"Be careful," Kit said softly as she gave Ollie a hug.
"I should be the one saying that," Ollie chuckled, one hand resting on her belly as he hugged her one-handed and kissed her. "Don't worry about me and Don. We can handle this. You just make sure you and the kids get out safely. We'll catch up. I promise."
Winry stepped into the next room then, leaving the couple to their private moment. "Ready?" She looked at her son.
"As I can be," Aldon nodded. His things were already packed. So were hers. They were going to lay their charges and flee. Their few belongings would go with the refugees. If they caught up they would need them. If the worst happened… well, they would be useful to other people. "What about you, Mom? I mean…"
"This isn't my thing?" Winry couldn't help smiling. Her hands rested on her hips. "I'll have you know I've rigged some pretty bizarre things in my day. This will be a piece of cake."
"I think I'd rather have the cake," Aldon admitted, chuckling, but the point was made. "It would go well with the story we're going to have to tell when we get home."
The entrance to the tank bays was always guarded. It didn't matter how late it was. Aldon remembered that from when he had worked at Briggs, and nothing had changed except the guards. Two Drachmans lurked, looking utterly not-menacing as they yawned and leaned against the walls that were their posts. If they had been any good, Aldon would have expected to have been heard by now. He and Ollie were parked up in one of the large air ducts in the ceiling above, ready to crawl their way into the boiler room that shared a wall. He was glad they weren't trying to get into the tank bays specifically.
The boiler room almost made it sound insignificant. The boilers in question handled thousands of gallons of water, and the pipes ran it all over the Fort. If it went, it took the capabilities for all easy hot water in the Fort with it for the months it would take to make repairs. That assumed, of course, that the Drachmans had the supplies to make those repairs.
There was a handful of other men arrayed to create a disturbance if necessary and draw the guards' attention. There was little hope of them actually leaving their posts except in the case of a real shoot out, which they were trying to avoid as long as possible.
By now, the refugees who were mothers, children, or not healthy enough to assist in the mission were already shuffling up the long underground cavern tunnels towards the surface. Aldon was grateful, and he knew Ollie was even more so, given that it was his family they were getting out of here.
Below them, one of the Drachmans said something to the other, who chuckled. The quiet banter continued. Good. While they were distracted, Aldon dared to move forward again, Ollie behind him, until they were away from the bit of grate he could see through and directly over the boiler room instead. "Ready?" he asked as quietly as possible.
"Let's go."
Aldon slid a metal bar under the edge of one of the ceiling panels and carefully edged it out of the way. He was in luck; it was where it was supposed to be, directly over one of the catwalks that wove its way between the boilers near the ceiling level. He lowered himself awkwardly through the narrow opening, dropping down at last to the walk below with a soft oof. "I'm glad I didn't pig out at dinner," he commented quietly.
Ollie looked down at him a moment before slowly coming down as well. "Makes two of us," he commented as he landed as lightly on the metal grating as he could.
From there they had to descend to the floor, unfortunately. The worst of the damage would require blowing the boilers at the bottom, by the heating mechanisms, and also putting the holes where the water would dump out the most. Several would, however, be placed on upper pipes leading into and out of the area. In another part of the Fort, others would make sure a couple of the other critical pipe junctures went as well.
It was time to get to work.
Winry was grateful her section of the electrical system was unguarded. She worked quickly, attaching and setting her charges on each of the electrical boxes in the room. She worked quickly, trusting to experience not to make the obvious mistakes, and caution to avoid the rest. She couldn't second guess herself. A large portion of the lay out was her idea and planning. She could not see or hear the others who were sneaking around the Fort at this very moment, doing their jobs to lay the explosives that, in themselves, were not large, but combined would do enough damage to the Drachmans to make them regret taking the Fort. It was self sufficient; a weakness to be exploited when the place could no longer sustain itself. If they could not make repairs quickly, than they would definitely have problems.
Winry only wished they could have pulled this mission off in the dead of winter. The impact would have been even greater. This place was cold enough with heating …internal and external! It took a lot to be chilly at that stage of pregnancy. Or so she had discovered since. Not that she really remembered with the immediacy she had once. Her daughter and her daughters-in-law experiencing it now were enough for her! She was happy to be granny instead of just mom. Besides, if Edward had ever suggested we have five children I'd have smacked him. Cassie's patience with Aldon was nothing short of a miracle sometimes. Or perhaps it was a shared impatience.
It was funny, Winry thought as she triggered another charge and moved on to the next set of electrical wiring, how she wouldn't have considered Aldon or Cassie particularly impulsive people. They tended to think things through very sensibly. They had even in school, despite their infatuation. It had only been up here, where Winry had not been able to see the changes the world made in her son, where they had tumbled –rather literally- into adulthood. They always say the North makes men out of boys. More mothers would worry if they knew the truth of that statement.
Two more charges to go. Not that Winry would begrudge them a moment of their love, or the wonderful relationship that had come out of it… or her five grandsons that love had produced. It was one of the best – and certainly least tumultuous – matches Winry had ever seen, and suspected there had ever been in their family. At least on the Elric side. Granny had told her that her own parents had gotten along very smoothly too. So Aldon gets that from me too. Or at least, my side of the family. She could hardly claim to get along smoothly with her husband that often, though it was much more often the case now than it used to be.
She hoped Aldon was all right. She did not doubt his abilities; she just didn't trust the Drachmans to do their part and stay confident and out of the way until everything went.
"That's it!" Aldon commented as the charge timer began to count down. They had two minutes to get out of the room. Enough time as long as they went now.
"Let's move," Ollie agreed from the next boiler over. "Mine's ready." He joined him as they hurried towards the metal grated stairs that led back up to their crawlspace.
They were half-way there when gunshots erupted in the hallway outside the main door. "Crap," Aldon picked up the pace. Return fire told him what he needed to know; the Drachmans had been moving to investigate and their compatriots were creating the distraction they were there for. Aldon hit the stairs at a sprint and was half a flight up when the doors to the boiler room opened and a shout told him they had been seen.
A violent shake of the stairs made him turn. Ollie had tripped, but was righting himself. "Keep going!" He motioned frantically with one hand.
Aldon turned to go as the first gunshot rang out in the room itself, glancing off the metal stairs with a loud clang. The report echoed through the room almost louder than the bullet ricochet. It was followed by another, then a second gunman joined in. Shit! Aldon kept running, then tripped. He ducked, scrambling behind the metal mesh that was the only thing protecting him from getting shot.
Ollie, below, had taken refuge behind a couple of crates.
Aldon didn't like being pinned down. It wasn't the first time this war he'd been under fire, but it was the first time he had been the primary target! Heart pounding almost up into his throat, he looked up at the hold in the ceiling they had come down. It seemed very far away. There were twenty more stairs and a jump into the ceiling ahead of him. He'd be a plain target.
At the other end of the room, one of the boilers exploded, sending steam spouting everywhere as near-boiling hot water poured forth, spilling across the floor. The two Drachman soldiers shouted and leapt backwards as the next boiler went, and steam and smoke intermingled and the room began to fill.
Ollie made a run for the stairs again in the confusion. Aldon could only watch as his friend scrambled up the stairs towards his hiding spot. A moment later the report of the rifle was followed by Ollie's crying out and stumbling. Aldon could see blood leaking through on Ollie's right pant leg…. He'd been hit. "Keep going!" Ollie shouted at Aldon. "Move you idiot!"
Aldon had barely moved two stairs – down, to get his friend – when the shouts run out again and, standing upright, Aldon felt something pierce his leg in the meat of his right thigh. He stumbled, almost falling head-first down the stairs, but catching himself on the railing and clinging tightly to keep from pitching off to certain death. The searing pain in his leg made it difficult to regain balance.
The firing continued until the third boiler went. Then it stopped and Aldon knew the Drachmans had fled in the onslaught of scalding liquid. Not that it would last. The floor, laced with drain holes every ten feet, not unlike those in the bottom of showers, had been designed to deal with leaks. The water would eventually drain away until it was nothing but cold.
In the distance, something rocked the foundations with a thud, and then another. The other charges were going off elsewhere in the building.
That was when the rest of the boilers went off. Aldon clung to the metal stairs as they shook and bucked with the angry venting of the room. He nearly slid off the back when they tilted crazily, and nearly broke free from the wall. But it bucked and creaked for nearly a minute before the violence lessened. When it stabilized, he opened his eyes and dared to look down.
Ollie was no longer on the stairs below him.
"Ollie!" Aldon cried out, praying for an answer. He moved then, not up, but down. "Are you there?" He stumbled downward, gripping the railings and doing his best to ignore the pulsing in his thigh; the blood oozing down his leg.
The steam was dissipating, and the smoke rising upward, billowing and blocking his view. As he neared the ground, Aldon almost fell again, his heart thumping hard. Ollie was there, under a large chunk of what had once been a pipe leading to the boiler. It lay across his legs and, as he moved closer expecting the worst, Ollie twitched.
"I'm… here," Ollie replied weakly. "I… can't move. Get out of… here."
"Not a chance," Aldon shook his head, falling to his knees beside his friend – and crying out briefly at the pain it caused him. "I'll get you out of here. Kit's waiting." He shoved at the pipe, it didn't want to move.
Ollie grimaced and gritted his teeth. "Legs are… shot. Busted. I can barely feel them."
Either Ollie was lying, or the parts he could still feel were causing him unheard of amounts of pain. Aldon took a better look at the situation as they lay there, in the warm water slowly going icy cold, and realized Ollie was right. Both of his legs from the knees down were almost certainly broken, probably in several places if they weren't smashed all together. The right foot and ankle looked truly grotesque, sticking out the other side at an unnatural angle. The blood from the gunshot wound was there…the injury was there. "Then I'll carry you out," Aldon replied, determination seizing him. He wasn't going to leave his best friend to die like this! Not when everyone else was evacuating right now, and Aldon had no intention of dying either. He had promised Cassie he wouldn't.
Aldon scrambled to his feet again and put his full weight against the pipe. "Brace yourself." With a hard shove, bracing with his good leg, Aldon groaned and grunted and heaved until slowly, bit by bit, the two-foot wide pipe began to roll and, finally, jerked off of Ollie's legs.
They looked even worse from that angle. Aldon blanched and focused on Ollie's face, which was pale, but his eyes were open and focused despite the haze of pain. "You're crazy," Ollie commented. "We'll never get… up there."
"Then we'll go the long way," Aldon replied. It was chaos out there now. Who would be guarding this place? The Drachmans, hopefully, thought they were dead. He knelt one more time and took a look at the rest of his friend. Ollie's legs might be toast, but his back and neck seemed all right. "Sorry pal, but this is going to hurt." He grabbed Ollie for lifting, and hauled him up and over his shoulder.
Ollie cried out in agony, then fell quiet as Aldon staggered to his feet with difficulty. His leg didn't like the extra weight of a second person at all.
"You okay?" Aldon asked, hoping he hadn't killed his friend. Ollie was slung over his shoulders the way Aldon had seen fireman carry people out of buildings.
"No," Ollie replied.
At least he was alive. Aldon would consider them lucky and get moving. If they made it quickly enough, they would still find people and transportation waiting for them. If not… Aldon would be making his apologies to Cassie in her dreams….if at all.
It was a long, slow, agonizing struggle through the halls and tunnels of Briggs. Ollie fell unconscious quickly, and Aldon considered it a blessing even if it left him functionally alone. Aldon silently thanked whoever might be listening when they got back into the secret areas of the Fort without being caught, and again when he staggered into the living area to find the last few people – soldiers and engineers mostly – just making their own escape. They'd had further to travel apparently.
"Aldon!" The sweet, worried sound of his mother's voice was like balm on his frazzled nerves if nothing else. Winry appeared out of the dark gloom, frowning with concern. "What happened to you two? We were about to leave." She blanched when she got closer. "Is he alive?"
"Yeah," Aldon nodded. He could feel Ollie's chest moving against his back. "But his legs are in bad shape. Is there still a medic here?"
Winry shook her head. "No, but we've got supplies. Let's get you both patched up as quickly as we can." She looked at two of the engineers who had been living under Briggs all this time. "Can you rig a stretcher?"
"We've got an old one," one of them replied and vanished. A minute later he returned and set it down in the hallway right there.
Aldon was relieved when another man helped him bend down and lower Ollie onto the stretcher. As soon as that was done he collapsed on the floor beside it. His head was swimming and he knew he'd lost too much blood already. Of course, any blood was too much in his mind.
He watched as his mother took charge of the situation. Ollie's bleeding wound was bandaged and his legs set from the knees down with the best splints she could manage to keep them from getting any more mangled in transport. Then she turned and he saw her face come down to his. "You're going to have to get up, honey. I need to bandage your leg."
After several minutes of lying on the cold stone moving was even more painful. Aldon righted himself, and grimaced as his mother stopped the blood flow and bandaged his thigh. "You're lucky the bullet punched through," she commented when she was done. "Digging those out is awful."
One of the engineers offered him a water bottle, and Aldon drained it. Only then did he stagger fully to his feet. "How long do we have?"
"We're the end. They'll wait for us but no one else," the same engineer said as he stepped up on his bad side and got under Aldon's arm for support. "At least for another couple of hours; Let's get out of here."
The other two men picked up the stretcher as Aldon's mother packed the few medical supplies back up and joined them. Aldon did his best to focus and keep moving. It was going to be a long night. He hoped Ollie made it.
The caverns seemed even bigger and longer to Winry on the way up them than they had on the way down. It was, she knew, partly because they were now struggling up hill, but also because Aldon and Ollie were both badly injured. Her son stumbled often, and bit down on his pain, though gasps escaped. He kept moving, she knew, only by sheer stubborn Elric will. His pride and determination wouldn't let him collapse. He wouldn't lose.
When they got to the top and made their way down to the edge of the cliff, Winry was almost certain that the trucks would have left them by now, but across the snowy stretch of distance left to cover, she thought she could see movement. The clouds had broken tonight, and the moonlight shown on the snow, making it almost as bright as day, in an eerie kind of way.
Getting them down the steep incline seemed to take forever. Ollie was strapped to the stretcher and his bearers worked admirably to cause him as little pain as possible. In his unconscious state however, he still whimpered when jarred.
They met no resistance crossing the snowy plain back to the trees. The Drachmans, as they had hoped, were completely internally focused. So even though the trip back took nearly four hours – a solid hour longer than it had taken to go up in the first place, they found the trucks waiting, packed with refugees and their original compliment of men.
Ollie and Aldon, with Winry on her insistence, were piled into one of the trucks immediately for warmth and laid out on the ground. It was a truck of all military men, and Winry was grateful that Kit and the children were in another truck. The news was sent to her that Ollie was injured, but alive. For now, that was all she needed to know.
The medic, a skinny, weasel-nosed man joined them, focusing on Ollie first. "Heart's steady. Breathing's shallow, but I expect shock in a situation like this." He looked calm as he examined Ollie's legs, though the jostling brought the tow-headed man back to life.
"Shit that hurts!" Ollie griped.
"Must be feeling okay if you can curse," Aldon chuckled tiredly. The truck floor was piled thick with straw and covered with blankets. Winry waited, sitting by Aldon's head and staying out of the way now that the medic was here.
"Bite me," was Ollie's reply. "What's the verdict?"
"Both legs are broken in at least eight places," the medic replied with a sigh. "I can't try and set them, but changes are they won't set right like that. They'll probably heal crooked without extreme intervention."
"How extreme?" Ollie asked, looking mildly horrified. Which made sense, Winry observed. The idea of being paralyzed or permanently crippled was terrifying to most people. She had seen it with thousands of her patients.
"Alchemical healing," the medic shrugged. "An experienced alchemical doctor, like the ones in Xing, could probably set this right enough to see them grow straight again. I'm not sure the foot can be saved though."
"Ethan can do that, and for a foot," Winry pointed out, "Or anything else for that matter, there's always auto-mail."
Ollie's eyes closed and he lay very still for long enough that Winry started to worry. "Thanks, Mrs. Elric."
"What for?" Winry asked softly.
"Answers," Ollie smiled without opening his eyes, "Forward thinking ones."
"Mom's good at that," Aldon chuckled tiredly. He was covered now, under a blanket. Winry could feel his hands warming. They watched the medic give Ollie a large dose of painkillers. Ollie was out again as soon as they hit his system. His whole body relaxed.
"Now to see to you," the medic moved over to Aldon and uncovered his leg. It was an unpleasant experience, and Aldon spent most of it clearly keeping himself from crying out, or crying at all. He braced often. When the doctor was done the dressings were changed and his leg half immobilized. "At least until we get you to a hospital and they can do a proper job," the medic sighed. Then he pulled out another small syringe of painkillers.
"Hold on," Aldon surprised her by interrupting "How much have you got?"
"Four doses," the medic replied, looking startled.
Aldon shook his head. "Save them… for Ollie." Winry understood then. His friend was much worse off than he was.
The medic looked disapproving. "You're sure?"
Aldon nodded. "I'll survive. He needs them more than I do."
The medic put the syringe away and covered Aldon back up. Tucked up with another blanket for a pillow, Aldon looked like he was getting drowsy. Winry hoped he slept soon. She suspected it wouldn't take long. "I'll check on them in a bit," he replied, moving back to his corner of the truck and settling down under a blanket himself.
The motor revved and the truck began to roll as Aldon's eyes drooped slowly closed. Outside, Winry could hear the rest of them as well. She tucked a blanket up around herself, paying little attention to the men crammed around them on benches, or against the back of the truck on the floor. Instead she lay down in the thick hay next to her sleeping son. A hero and a true friend. I'm proud of you Aldon. When you're awake next, I'll tell you so.