Andrew Halken's Story

“So, Major, how long are you in Central this time?” the young woman driving the car that Desmond was riding in was wearing the typical female desk officers outfit, the blue with the mini-skirt that had gotten more than one young recruit either slammed or confined. This particular young woman was a true beauty, but that wasn’t the reason that she was the one he requested to escort him she never he came to Central… okay, it wasn’t the only reason… it was because she knew the city like the back of her hand and was a person who he got along with. “You shipping back up North in a week, like usual?” she asked with an almost pouty look, she enjoyed the Major’s visits, got her out of paperwork.

“Actually this isn’t a visit, Carla.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, it’s a transfer.” He smiled as did she, she turned the corner onto the main thoroughfare of the city where the National Library was and many of the buildings including the State Alchemist’s Office.

“Oh, cool, so that mean’s I’ll be seeing more of you then right, sir?”

“Well yes, I suppose you will.” He chuckled and was more relaxed. They parked and he got out, moving to her side swiftly enough to open the door for her before she had gotten prepared to exit herself, “But this does leave me at a disadvantage.”

“Hmm, oh thanks,” she accepted his aid in getting out of the vehicle, “How’s that sir?” he took off his black coat and tossed it into the car before shutting the door, feeling it was just too warm in Central for him to wear it, and being that he didn’t have to project that air of authority he had too on the front lines he was more lack.

“Well,” they began climbing the steps, “I find myself out of my element now, at Briggs everything was in one building. Here, I’m just lost. Heck I still have to find someplace to live.” He laughed a bit, that was one reason he was here.

She looked quizzically at him, pursing her lower lip slightly and tilting her head at him, “Hmm, why don’t you just stay in the officer’s barracks?”

“Are you kidding? With the salary I pull in? Not a chance,” he opened the door for her and she nodded thanks, “I was actually wondering if you could suggest a good neighborhood for me to start looking at?”

She looked up as they walked, putting one arm across her chest to brace the elbow of her other which was pointed upward with her finger pressed to her chin in thought, “Let me see, I know of the neighborhoods around here but I’m not exactly a real-estate agent sir. Should I put a call in for one for you?”

He had walked slightly ahead but was still close by so as not to have to raise his voice to talk to her, “We’ll cross that bridge a little later, Lieutenant, right now I’d prefer to avoid that kind of dull crisis.” She nodded in agreement as he presented his pocket watch and told the clerk his ID number, “I’d like to see my I38, DW4, and my Research Grant Balance please.”

As the two left the building Desmond spoke up again, “Alright, with the boring part done let’s do something more interesting.”

“Like what, sir?”

“Well you said you know of some neighborhoods, I’ve got some time to kill, let’s go check out some potential residences.”

“Sir, yes, sir!” she said it with a jovial tune and a smile as she put the car in gear and they drove off. He looked at her with a smile and turned to prop his head up on his fist as he watched the city go by, he was much less serious and military like this, but that’s what he needed.

-=-=-=-

The young man in a casual outfit reflecting his age stood outside the train station in the later afternoon, looking at the demonstrators and sighing, “Come on people, stop shouting with signs and pick up a trench shovel or something instead, wouldn’t that be more productive?” he said to no one in-particular as he rubbed his neck in slight frustration. He stepped own the marble stairs of the station avoiding the crowd and headed over to the nearest shop. It was a bakery called Clauses’ Eatery and with a charming and handsome smile on his chiseled face the young man stepped into the shop and looked about for the owner. “Hello? Anyone here?”

“Hmm? Oh a customer, what can I do for you?” the rotund matron asked as she brought a fresh tray of pastries from the back up to the counter and greeted him with a wide and hospitable grin.

The young man didn’t drop his smile just because the woman wasn’t young and thin, he kept up his charm as he smelled the pastries, “Wow, those smell great, miss, must’ve taken a lot of work to prefect that recipe.”

She blushed with pride and beamed at him, “Why yes it did, it’s taken me fifteen years to get the process perfect and now I’m proud to say that I make the best in the city.” She placed her hands on her hips and nodded in appreciation for her own skills.

“What? No way you don’t look nearly old enough to have been at this for that long!” he objected in a goodhearted nature, both of them laughing, “How much?”

“Well, usually they’re 1500 cens, but for such a gentlemen such as yourself 500 cens will do fine!” she winked and he nodded, paying her and thanking her, promising to tell others about the bakery when he got to his post. “Oh, so you’re in the military then?”

“Yep, my number just came up a few days ago.” He shrugged but never let his smile waiver as he took a bite of the pastry, for a moment his face fell and he looked like he might be sick, the woman’s face fell and filled with worry at this react.

“Oh my! Is there something wrong with the taste?”

“No… it’s… it’s just that,” he paused for a moment and in the next moment as the woman came around the counter had grabbed her, looking at the floor, but as his face came up to look at her he was absolutely beaming, “These are the best pastries I’ve ever had!” that had them both practically sparkling as he took out more money, “I’m going to need three more at least!” she didn’t take his money through and just gave him another four with pride.

After several minutes of talking he made to leave, but as he reached the door he turned, “Oh, by the way, Mrs. Clause,” he’d learned her name, “can you tell me how to get to the Draft office from here?”

“Oh, yes of course, it’s just up the road and on your left, you can’t miss it, it’s got big signs and banners all over the place.”

He said thanks again and went to leave, opening the door and ringing the bell but as he exited two people in military uniforms walked up, so the young man held open the door, mainly for the pretty woman in the mini-skirt, not standard issue but a good choice. They both said thanks to him and he couldn’t help but tell them they had chosen well as this shop had the best pastries ever! The man again thanked him and a flash of silver caught the youth’s eyes. A silver chain from a pocket watch so that man was one of the State Alchemist. He just smiled to himself dashingly and left the bakery

He made his way to the Draft office and found a long line of recruits inside. Joinging the line which hhad the sign for his last name’s letter over it he waited and upon reaching the desk with the enlisted man behind it stood at a rough attempt of attention with clear anticipation. “Name?”

“Halken, Andrew. Sir!”

“Halken… ah, here we are,” he handed the young man a packet of papers, “Central Garrison, Unit 13. Good luck, kid.”

“Thank you sir!” he saluted.

“Well. Sir, what do you think?” Carla asked as they walked through the large home that was currently having an open house. The Huge white marble structure was unfurnished and move in ready. It was actually a surprise to find, as Carla hadn’t expected such a home to be for sale really. But it was always like the Major to have impeccable timing.

Desmond had moved into the kitchen and was running his hands over the grey granite countertops, “I must admit, it’s very nice, I’ll have to contact the realtor.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little much? I mean it’s not like you’ve got a bunch of other people to stay in the other rooms.” She reasoned with something she’d mentioned a few times.

He chuckled, “You obviously don’t hang out at Alchemist’s homes very often, Carla,” he pointed down the main hall, “Those rooms would be a library, and the lower hallway would end up with several labs.”

“You’re right, I’ve not been to many alchemic homes, however I still think it’s a little big.”

“Well what else will I spend my Research budget on?”

“What? Can you do that?”

“Normally no, but I’m a Combative Alchemist, my job is to fight, I don’t’ turn in reports on my yearly progress for my Inspections.”

“Lucky you.”

“Not really, instead I have to turn in reports from all the battles I’ve fought and all the operations I’ve completed… no lab work, but a lot more dirty work.”

Carla understood that as his face had change from the gentle smile to a more forced one she’d brought up something uncomfortable. She started to contemplate saying something to cheer him up when her stomach intervened and rumbled loudly. “Oh… uh,” she tried giggling it off.

That did the trick as he laughed with her, “Hungry are we?”

“A bit.”

He took out his watched and checked the time, “Well, its lunch time, what do you say we grab a bite to eat. On me.” She graciously accepted and the two left the house and drove back toward the train station.

They parked in front of a small and quaint bakery and as he got out he grabbed a briefcase and his cover before beating her once more to her own door and opening it for her. As they got to the door a young man was exiting and while Desmond was prepared for him to just move on he showed some manners by holding the door for them. “You guy’s picked a good one, this place is great!” he told them as they entered.

“Thanks, we’ll keep that in mind.” He replied with a smile and Carla waved to the young man as he headed off. As Carla looked around Desmond glanced out the window and into the streets before the station. There was another demonstration going on, the Ultranationalist. But so long as no one else came around it would be fine. The Fuehrer often let these demonstrations pass, siting that “free speech is an important part of the democratic process.” Though Desmond was unsure of what Mustang was thinking. But as Carla called him he shook it off and they took a seat in the attached Café and got some bread, cheese, and a few small pastries for a typical Central City Lunch.

“That boy was right, these pastries are amazing.” Carla commented as she took another bite, chewed and swallowed, “What are those?” she asked informally. Desmond had opened his briefcase and was looking through some files which he was placing into several piles. “Or is it one of those State Alchemist’s ‘I’d tell you but then I’d have to kill you’ things?” she was joking and made a comical voice at it but he just stayed stoic, making her turned stunned.. Until his baring broke and he smirked so she knew he was messing with her.

“They’re personnel files… I’ve still got to distribute my officers among the company.” He picked up the center pile and place three open files atop various other stacks, “Let’s see… Lieutenant Hauls, Lieutenant Olic, and Lieutenant Eckhart... huh, says here he prefers Lieutenant Shu.”

“That’s a strange name.”

“True… and what’s more is that he’s got the shortest record of all of them…”

“Oh?”

“Yeah… well, I guess that’s it… I’ll stick to my guns… Lieutenant.” He was speaking to her more professionally as he put the files away.

“Sir?”

“I need you to get these orders to these men please, and get those officers I mentioned to report to my office at Central Garrison in one hour please.” He stood and left a tip after paying, putting his blue officers cap on.

She began o stand as well, “Where do you need me to take you, sir?”

He waved her down though, letting her return to her pastries, “Don’t worry, I’m just going to walk around Central for a bit.” She saluted and he returned the gesture before leaving the café.

He was going to head south towards the barracks but a large ruckus at the rally caught his attention and so he tuned to see the Reds and the Ultranationalist at each-other’s throats. Sighing he started marching towards them, “And here I was thinking I’d get at least one day off… damn” he got to the edge of the two crowds and began to make his way between them.

Desmond was about to reply with a sigh to the sergeant but a young man with a camera came running up instead, two soldiers almost stopped him until he said MJS, at which point the men let him go. He returned his attention to the sergeant, “Then find the nearest Lieutenant, they ought to have the authority, I’ll handle the reports later myself.” He then turned his attention to the young man, “Ah, good, you guys work fast, Major Desmond Ruler.” He introduced himself knowing how the MJS worked or rather their line of questions. He also expected the question of what’s the Watch Dog of the North doing in central but he would not give him a chance and skipped that, not wanting to get into it yet.

“So, as you’ll no doubt hear that the Ultranationalist were having a political demonstration here, probably trying to get their message to the draftees coming in off the trains. Not a bad idea, so the Reds decided to do the same… and there’s the rub, they were about to get into a street brawl so I stepped in.” He shrugged and started walking to his office, “I’ve got some meetings I’ve got to get too, but you’re welcome to walk with me if you want and I’ll tell you my side of what happened.” He began to take a step but stopped as his left foot got caught on something, “Oh, almost forgot.” He was thinking out loud, a common trait among State Alchemists, as he lifted his left foot up revealing that some contraption had been implanted in the heel of his shoe. The contraption was a spring loaded spike that was clearly worn from scraping against hard surfaces, which he reached to and forced back into the catch mechanism and latched which made it hard to see even from beneath the shoe, “Ah, that’s better, anyway, on we go.” He suggested as he stood tall again.

-=-=-=-

Andrew entered the Barracks and smelled the air, “Yep, ah, just like the shop…” he commented ot no one in particular as he smiled to anyone else who had made it there and went back to the rear of the place, his buddy from the military suggested taking the rear bottom bunk, gave you a few more moments to get ready before the brass came marching in then the others. He tossed his bag on the empty bed and looked back, “So, who wants to make the first introductions?” he asked to those also in the room.

"Corporal Hans Murray Clark reporting to Barracks 13 of the Central Garrison sector C from North reserve, here are my papers; I trust everything is in order?" said Hans as he entered the sector's draft center, Hans had proceeded to the area faster then he needed to however he did not want to have suspicions cast on him for spending a significant amount of time in the red quarter. The office was manned by only a young woman and a guard which to Hans made the reality of the state military's growing lack of manpower all too clear.

The secretary examined the papers which included a citizenship which Hans had acquired not entirely with the consent of the law however there was nothing to suggest forgery and the recent bombings of the main central state archive would make a search of such forgeries impossible. Along with that citizenship there was also a curfew pass which let Hans bypass some of the restrictions while the state of martial law was in effect, a military reserve card and file which had all the details of his military service in Amestris, the letter of mobilizations, a military pass which let him enter the closed military zone of the Garrison in the first place and Gods knew what other papers the state came up with.

The secretary spent a few minutes reading the papers and writing on them with a pen or on other sheets of paper by using her typing machine when needed until she came across a brown card:

"I see that you are a member of a local party, may I ask for additional details on this political activity?" She asked with a tone which suggested that she was well accustomed to asking the question.

Hans smiled and removed his hat " yes I am a member of a political party however as you can see in its registration it is not a state party but a local party; the party is a minor party which takes care of its members and occasionally preforms cultural events" Hans was surprised that the secretary need ask since in small village communities nearly every craftsman or woman was a member of such guild parties and suspected it was a test of identity.

The secretary remained silent for a few moments as she wrote a few pages with her typing machine, after a minute or so she added a few more papers to Hans's file before returning his papers.

"I shall be keeping your pass card and your citizen card until you are confirmed by command, you will find a temporary pass card in your file. I am sorry for this inconvenience but we have recently been having problems with military reserve files so we must make doubly sure"

Hans nodded and proceeded to the door, there the guard opened the door and pointed towards the barracks.

As Hans neared the barracks he became aware of another lady near its entrance, as he approached she soon came towards him holding a sheet of paper.

"Hello there soldier" she said trying to catch his attention "I am representing interests for peace in Amestris, could you sign here in support of this noble cause?"

Hans hoped his expression was not clear; he despised defeatists of all kinds and barley tolerated this one however he decided it would be fun to see her reaction.

"No I will not sign, a peace must be won; gaining peace in any other way is only temporary and worthlessly so"

Hans left the woman before she could respond, in Drachma defeatists where executed as traitors and while he did not support this ideal he was still disgusted by the arrogance of these people. Only one signature was important in Amestris; Roy Mustang.

As Hans entered the barracks he saw that two people where already in it, placing his bag on the bunk nearest to the observation tower ladder Hans then turned to the nearest person in the room.

He seemed young and Hans suspected newly drafted, Hans hoped the boy would not be a burden as many of his over eager young flyers where... in his previous life.
Hans remained still waiting for the young man to notice his presents; by a long surviving military tradition the lesser in rank had to salute first before a soldier of a senior rank responded.

Hans was about to decide to begin conversation with the young draftee first realizing that age old military traditions of standing professional armies where hardly to be expected from a young man dragged out of his childhood and expected to ether live or die for his country.

However as Hans exchanged a few words of greeting with the young man he was suddenly startled by the entrance of another draftee, the second draftee was also a young man of roughly the same age as the other one however he had one special quality; the unmistakable features of an Ishvalan.

Hans was momentarily taken aback by those features and especially the seemingly menacing red eyes however he made great efforts into sustaining his seemingly clam and uninterested persona whishing to avoid a negative first impression with the Ishvalan, no matter how infamous his people where for their primitive culture, outdated and misplaced fanatic faith in their religion and their some times cruel savage ways.

Hans again attempted to control his thoughts fearing that those would display themselves on his body language, Hans didn't like Ishvalan's but nether did he hate them like many people did however he was unaccustomed to dealing with them even after years of sailing and meeting many other cultures. .
.

Hans nodded to him and then saluted just as he had done with the other draftee however he chose not to exchange words with the Ishvalan just yet. Reaching for his bag Hans took out from it a rolled up sheet of paper and unrolled it while strapping it to the wall with tape. The poster held images and information of a variety of Drachman aircraft and their Amestrisan counterparts, however it was also accompanied with a number of edits made by Hans himself which included the rubbing out of a number of modern looking Amestrian aircraft which in fact did not exist at all and where merely a piece of propaganda by which the state military tried to give the impression that Amestris was fielding modern aircraft designs; the truth was the opposite.

Hans would normally have not removed such propaganda however the poster was meant to be used for aircraft identification and since the propaganda planes resembled Drachman designs Hans felt that there was no point in confusing ground gunners and aircrew in such a way.

Hans now feeling more at home turned to the two men and sighed half in annoyance and half in sadness that here he was addressing new recruits nearly twenty years later.

"Well then as I am currently the only officer here who has seen a number of years of military service I feel it is my duty to help you adapt yourselves to these new surroundings and new life styles as you will soon discover

I am Corporal Hans Murray Clark, Northern Army, and Local National Craftsman union party reserve. Don’t worry about that last bit; all our far flung village reserves are handled by local parties now since the military no longer has the people to herd them when they need them."

Hans hoped he wasn't boring the two young lads but continued in case they actually gave a damn.

"Well lets pass all the formalities; the approaching elections have made our already anxious society rather exited and the more exited people tend to make life difficult for You, for me, for that other chap down the road and generally for our entire war effort. While these elections take place and the victors of that election whomever they are establish themselves and the security of the new administration and by doing the security of the state young men like you and old men like me have been sent here to do a number of things:

Counter, apprehend and dispose of all traitors, collaborators, spies and generally other threats to the state in a verity of methods such as prison, work camps and execution. If we do start having riots or even civil wars in the country you should be prepared for that last option.

Preserve the peace in central city and the surrounding area

Man the defenses of the city in case of an enemy attack and hold out until the army can take over; fighting to the last bullet is the army's job however we might have to do that if the war goes terribly wrong.

Aid the populace of central in any way we are tasked with; the local services have been overburdened with concerns and drained of their manpower so it is up to us to clean up some of the mess left over by the bombing raids.

Keep moral up"

"but for now just tuck in and wait for the Co"

Saben saluted the officer at the correct time, doing his best to avoid a bad impression. He did not care too much what others thought of him, but why make life any more difficult than it had to be? The military was a long career, he had not been enlisted long enough to have the pleasure of making any enemies yet. Not unless he wanted to end up peeling potatoes and guarding latrines.

As Hans went on educating the two recruits to the situation, Saben found himself appalled at the prospect of executing people. Fighting in battle was one thing, regardless of where he ended up, he would be fighting for his life and the lives of his unit. Executing people was not something he had intended on signing up for, not unless he was sure they were guilty. Best to cross that road when the time came.

"Thank you, sir." Saben said when the Corporal finished. He seemed to be a fair man, not reacting too harshly when he saw there was an Ishvalan on the unit. Any Amestrian with prejudice best get used to the idea, with the Ishvalan's slowly re-establishing over the years and interracial couples rising, there would be a fair share of recruits with Ishvalan blood in them. Still facing the Corporal he spoke, "I was up North as well, at Briggs. I wasn't officially part of the military or anything . . . but I'm glad to be a part of it now." He looked to the other recruit, waiting for him to introduce himself.

Hans was quite impressed with the Ishvalan, maybe the racial differences where not as far reaching as Hans originally believed. Culturally the Ishvalan's where still inferior, this was merely the natural order of nature; some creatures developed in better circumstances then the other just as some are born into wealthy families and others are born to the unemployed poor. The Ishvalan had also clearly developed a northerner's spirit; only a northerner from the Briggs area could tell that some one originated specifically from that area. Even if Hans came from a village a few kilometers to the north of the Briggs range there was not much difference between the people from these two areas since the land around the Briggs mountains had passed hands between the two nations a number of times centuries ago before the borders where finally decided upon..

The Briggs mountain range was the infamous line of defense which had survived every attempted artillery strikes, bombing raids, tank attacks, mass assaults, sabotage attempts and countless sieges. Hans had the great fortune never to have been sent to fight in that front of the war but the rumors from the Briggs front where the greatest single concern for national moral for the leadership in Drachma.


Hans let himself smile slightly for a moment at the Ishvalan; at least one of these recruits received a proper education and would avoid crying to his mother when introduced to the bombs of the Drachman raiders.

"Well its always good to be optimistic about military service especially when most people treat it as a way to get a good insurance policy, some decent food on the table and funeral service paid for by the government. I imagine you will find your tasks here both far easier and unexpectedly harder then what you are used too; I did"

Hans paused for a moment before noting an important detail

"I think I did not catch your name, what was it soldier?"

Hans heard the hesitation and defiance in the second recruit, he had expected as much from at least some of the recruits which was why he had brought up the matter now rather then later; if he let any doubts develop in their minds as to the realities of their mission it could spell disaster to the entire garrison so it was better to address the problem now rather then later.

"Recruit Halken you are absolutely correct, if we start shooting people in the street for just marching around with signs and shouting about this or that we deliver a crippling blow to the sovereignty of our nation. One crack in our calmness and dedication to the state and we may slowly loss our sense of duty and begin to dispose of those we ourselves consider threats and thus become an even greater threat to the people. This has always been the problem with deploying a fully armed military force inside a city but in these times and especially the upcoming elections we have no choice but to police this once proud capital as if it was an occupied territory.

This city was once united and indeed our news services do try to make it look that way but now this city has become the ideological battle ground of the people and we the central garrison are right in the middle of it all. Our job is to make sure the Ultra nationalists do not start rioting with the Red's or to deal the Militarists who riot with the globalists... stuff like that.

It's because of our interference that all these groups share one common trait; they hate us, they hate us for denying them the chance to crack flesh and brake bones and thus their anger and frustrations are directed at you my young comrades who have nothing to do with this predicament. If they could they would drag you out of your bed and skin you alive.

You could argue that there are those who are not like that at all and you would be correct however these are ether the by standers who just want to get on with their lives and avoid trouble and the victims we are tasked to protect against the mobs. Nether are of much use which is why all garrison troops are expected to carry a weapon at all times and if leaving the military sector travel in groups for added security.

You should not worry about protestors with signs private Halken… worry about them when they take out the guns. Worry about them when they rush you screaming for your blood, worry about them when a small flame or a large one finally ignites the massive ammunition and explosives warehouse this city has become… and quite literally so!"

Hans had gone too far but at least he had delivered the point, Hans had seen the results of revolution in his home land. One day it was the red's who where in charge, the other it was the ultra nationalists and before long the people wanted the iron hand of order only a king could produce.

Andrew just scowled and turned away, leaving the Barracks at the moment, muttering that this wasn’t some savage northern brothel, it was Central, and Amestrian’s were not like that; along with various other obscenities.

-=-=-=-

(Two Days later)

The Unit’s had had two days to mobilize, having just gotten their new recruits this time was spent letting the Draftees get their uniforms and equipment and getting taught enough to be ready for a command review. That was good as Desmond had just spent the last few minutes trying to talk Command out of it. “But sir, we’re talking about an entire battalion of new recruits, most of them draftees, you can’t expect them too-”

“Major, I understand your concern but the General is insistent, get your unit’s lined up and ready.” The voice on the other line was low and gruff, that of a superior officer.

“But, Lt. Colonel Wells I-!”

“Oh and ensure that a member of the MSJ is there, the General wants his address to the Central Garrison to be broadcast.”

Desmond almost disagreed again but sighed instead, “Yes sir, understood… Yes, I’ll make sure that they are presentable, Sir… Yes, I’ll get it done sir. Good bye.” He took the phone from his ear and looked at it, awaiting the tone to signal he was alone, “Stuck up son of a bitch!” he roared as he slammed the metal receiver down on the desk, making his assistant outside the door jump in her chair.

She came around the corner cautiously, “Sir?”

Desmond was still fuming but he managed to hide it by turning about to look out the window, “Send orders to the Barracks leaders, get their recruits presentable, we got brass up our ass in three hours.”

“Yes sir, right away… anything else?”

He turned back and sat down, having been slightly deflated, rubbing his temples, “Yeah, get the MSJ to send a reporter and a Radio team… please…”

-=-=-=-

Halken stood as the base loud speaker reported for all troop to set up for a Review, “Review? You mean now? We’ve only been here a few days!” he didn’t even know most of his barracks mate’s names.