Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction / Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ Gotta Knock a Little Harder ❯ 2000 Light Years from Home ( Chapter 8 )

2000 Light Years from Home

 

Sun turnin' 'round with graceful motion; We're setting off with soft explosion ~ The Rolling Stones (Her Majesty's Satanic Requests)

 

Spike stared down at the hand-drawn directions on the table between he and Ed. They were in the lounge of the Bebop. Alone, except for Jet, who was unusually quiet. Al and McKenna were back at Pinako's, hopefully keeping attention off the fact that the three of them were conspicuously absent. None of them needed any unnecessary poking around. Especially from the three members of the military.

 

The directions to Lab Five were easy enough. The place was at the edge of Central City, and he could bring the Swordfish in under cover of darkness, skirting along the limits. The variables, once there, were what concerned him. Too many unknowns. Ed said there had been explosions in a recent incident. Was the roof of the building going to hold the craft? Was there even a roof left?

 

And once in, more variables came to play. Ed told him about traps that had been rigged through the corridors. He didn't know if they'd been reset. For that matter, Ed wasn't entirely sure that he could lead Spike right to the main lab from the roof. “I came in through the ventilation,” he said.

 

“Might be easier to rappel down to the ground, and go through the side,” Spike said.

 

“If no one is on guard, maybe.”

 

“How many do you expect?'

 

Ed thought a moment. He shook his head. “Probably not many. This isn't `official'.”

 

Spike thought about that. “What about Alchemists?”

 

The way the boy's eyes went wide told him Ed hadn't thought about that. Spike leaned forward in his seat, and said, “How hard is an Alchemist going to be to take out?”

 

He saw the blood drain from the boy's face. Not good, Spike thought.

 

He ran a hand through the thick mass of hair, and shook his head. “You are going to have to be able to defend yourself, Ed. Even if it means killing someone.” He looked back up at the boy. “If you don't, you'll be killed yourself.”

 

Ed swallowed, then looked down at his hands. A moment later, he nodded. “I know.”

 

“Not a pleasant thought, I know,” Jet said. Ed looked at him, and mutely shook his head.

 

Jet leaned forward and tapped the rough plans for Lab Five. “How many levels down are you talking about going?”

 

“Three above ground, if we go in from the roof, then three more below.”

 

Spike chuckled softly. “Piece of cake.”

 

Jet nodded. “Better than twenty-eight.”

 

Ed looked at first one, then the other. “I'm sorry?”

 

Spike leaned back on the chair, and smiled. “A treasure hunt.” He nodded at Jet, and added, “It was all his idea.”

 

The older man shook his head. “And we ended up with the wrong treasure.”

 

Spike allowed the lightness of the moment to break the tension, while he lit a cigarette. He listened as Jet told Ed about trekking down 28 floors underground to get an antique machine that would allow them to view an ancient cassette that fell into their hands; and ended up with the wrong machine.

 

There were a few inaccuracies in his opinion, but let them slide as he considered what he was going to have ahead of him.

 

Soldiers are going to be the least of our worries, he thought. The chimera are liable to be problematic, but not impossible. But what about the homunculi? If Ed isn't exaggerating, then they can't be killed conventionally.

 

So, what does that mean? We have to worry about disabling them. At least long enough to get what we need, and get the hell out. If they can be disabled.

 

And what if this `Red Water' isn't there anymore? It means a wasted trip, and a risk of exposure to people who don't need to know we're here. For what? Something we think might possibly get us home?

 

I'm not sure I like the odds.

 

Then again, I've been going against the odds all my life, Spike thought with a soft laugh. The sound captured the attention of the other two.

 

“Care to share the joke, Spike?” Jet asked.

 

“Bad odds,” he said. “I wouldn't make any bets on any of us, Jet.”

 

“You're thinking of scrapping the whole idea?” The older man looked incredulous. “Are you running a fever, or something?”

 

“No, and no,” Spike said as he leaned forward again. “But I think we're over-planning this. That's a good way for this whole thing to take a crap in a big hurry.”

 

He looked over at Ed, and said, “What is the worst we're liable to encounter? The homunculi?”

 

Ed nodded.

 

“Then we worry about them, and deal with the rest as we go,” he said, as he got to his feet.

 

Spike left the lounge, and went to his quarters. He knelt down, and pulled a metal box out from under his bed. He spun the lock, and got it open.

 

As he took inventory of guns, ammo, and explosives, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He spun, and pointed his gun. He quickly lowered it when he realized it was Jet standing there.

 

“A little tense, Spike-o?”

 

The younger man cocked a brow. “Who? Me?”

 

Jet casually leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms. “How're you holding up?”

 

“I'm not sure I follow.”

 

Jet rubbed the top of his head; something Spike had learned long ago meant the man was not nearly as calm as he acted. “What if we fail, and end up being stuck here? You gunna be able to deal with it?”

 

Spike went back to loading one of the guns. It was something he really didn't want to think about at the moment. He donned a shoulder holster, and shoved a semi-automatic into it. “Don't you have some analyzing to do on those stones?”

 

“I can do that while you're gone,” Jet said.

 

Spike stuffed a pair of smaller handguns, and spare ammo into his jacket pockets. Then he slipped into a trench coat, and picked up a bag out of the box. He stood, and dumped the contents on the bed. He picked through the various explosives and grenades, and selected a few of those, shoving them into the trench pockets.

 

He started to leave the room, but Jet blocked the way. Spike stared at him for a moment, then said, “Failure is not an option, Jet. One way or another, we're getting out of here.”

 

The older man grimly nodded, and stepped aside.

 

Back in the lounge, Spike saw Ed up and pacing. He felt a slight pang of guilt for dragging the kid back into a place that had been a nightmare for him so soon after it had ended. It couldn't have been easy for him to volunteer the help, he thought. I just hope he doesn't freeze up at the wrong moment.

 

“You ready?” Spike asked.

 

Ed stopped pacing, looked at him a moment. Determination set in the boy's face, and then he nodded.

 

 

[1.1.1.1]

 

 

Jet sat in the pilot's seat of the Bebop, listening to the chatter between Ed and Spike as they prepared for take-off. He was in control of the catapult that would help sling the Swordfish off the launch once it had built up enough thrust to get it in the air.

 

“You strapped in?” he heard Spike ask.

 

“I think so,” Ed said.

 

“Give it a good yank, Ed,” Jet said over the radio. “We don't need you coming loose and bouncing all over the cockpit.”

 

He heard the sound of the Swordfish powering up, and watched the rpms build.

 

“The signal is working fine for now,” Jet said. “But without a satellite, you're going to be radio silent soon.”

 

“Roger, that,” Spike said.

 

The thrust was building. In a moment, Jet knew he'd be firing the catapult. “Ready in three…”

 

“Ed,” Spike said. “One thing?”

 

“Two…”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“One…”

 

“No puking in my ship.”

 

“Launch,” Jet said, and triggered the catapult. He didn't think he needed the radio to hear Ed's excited whoop as the Swordfish shot off the edge of the deck, dip, then shoot up into the atmosphere. He laughed, and said, “Good luck.”

 

 

[2.2.2.2]

 

 

Everyone was playing a game of cards when the air rumbled, rattling the walls and windows, and vibrating the floor. Al and McKenna looked at each other, and followed the rest out onto the porch. Showtime, McKenna thought.

 

Sounds of awe and shock went through the group, as the afterburners of the Swordfish lit up the night like a meteorite that had lost it's way.

 

The three soldiers turned and glared at her and Al. She felt sorry for the kid right then, because she could feel him trying to shrink from those accusing stares.

 

“Did you know anything about this?” Lieutenant Ross said.

 

McKenna shrugged casually. “Ed was bugging Spike to give him a ride in the Swordfish. Looks like he managed to persuade him.”

 

Ross's eyes narrowed, and McKenna knew the woman didn't believe a word of it. Armstrong towered over her, with his arms crossed, but he was unreadable to McKenna. But he's very loyal to Ed and Al, she thought. Brosh just looked confused, from what she could tell. So, Ross it is, she thought. The woman is not easily fooled, but will she accept the lie, anyway?

 

“I doubt they'll be gone long,” McKenna said. “Spike's not stupid, he knows he's risking trouble if too many people see him.”

 

Ross raised a brow.

 

McKenna continued. “Spike will not let anything happen to Ed.”

 

The two women stared at each other for a long, silent moment. Finally, Ross nodded. “Good, I would not want to have to explain to Colonel Mustang how one of you seriously injured, or even killed one of our State Alchemists. Especially that particular State Alchemist.”

 

“I'm sure they won't be gone, long,” McKenna repeated. Inwardly she winced. Not a good time to develop a conscience, she thought. But for some reason that lie was about as weak as I've ever told.

 

Armstrong took out his pocket watch, and glanced at the time. “We will give them until daylight,” he said. “If they have not returned by then, I will go in search of them.”

 

Ross's brows shot up, and she looked up at Armstrong. “Sir?”

 

The giant didn't take his eyes off McKenna or Al as he said, “I'm sure Master Elric is in good hands, and he will return unharmed.” The look he gave McKenna clearly said, He'd better.

 

She didn't want to think about what he would do if Ed was harmed.

 

 

[3.3.3.3]

 

 

Spike set the sonar on the Swordfish, and located the railroad tracks. Not the most efficient way to get to Central City, he thought. But at least it's direct. Flying low enough to follow the tracks made him a bit nervous, though. Old habits are hard to break. It's too damn easy to be spotted and brought down flying this low. He had to consciously remind himself that there was no craft available to bring him down. But there are guns and cannons on the ground.

 

Right behind him, Ed was all over the place, jabbering away a mile a minute. Spike was grateful for the secure straps that kept him in place. Over the radio, he heard a deep chuckle.

 

“Sit on a feather, Jet?”

 

“Yeah. Jealous?” he said. “Ed, you sound like a kid at Christmas.”

 

The boy stopped and stared at the radio. Through the mirror Spike had rigged to keep an eye on him, he saw the confusion written all over his face. “Does not compute, Jet,” he said. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

 

Jet chuckled, and then went on to explain the significance. It served the valid purpose of settling down an extremely excited boy, and enabled Spike to concentrate more on the terrain below. He made it a point to set up the mapping application to run with the sonar. The trip would take less time if he could just ascend to the edge of the atmosphere, then back down, rather than following the curvature close to the surface. But without satellite location, or any familiarity with the planet, he had to take the scenic route. And he had to do it slowly. Coming back would be a different story, though.

 

He let the conversation between Ed and Jet slip into the background. The sound of his partner's voice coming over the radio was comforting in this alien place. Although Spike would die before he admitted it.

 

About an hour into the trip, the sound of static broke into his thoughts. “Jet? You're breaking up.”

 

“*bzzzzt*… Like… *bzzt*… range… *bzzt*… Luck… *bzzzzzzt*”

 

Spike flipped off the radio. “See you on the flip side, Partner,” he said.

 

“We're out of range, now?” Ed asked.

 

Spike glanced up into the mirror, and saw the concern in the boy's golden eyes. He's trying to hide it, though, he thought. This is probably the furthest he's ever been from his brother.

 

He considered how they anchored each other so much. This can't be easy on either of them. It only then occurred to Spike that in all the time he'd been working with Jet that they had never really been completely out of communication with each other, either. They might not be speaking deliberately for one reason or another, but they were always within contact, if they needed the other. We anchor each other, too, he thought.

 

He suddenly had a feeling this was going to be a very long night.

 

 

[4.4.4.4]

 

 

“Sounds like you're going out of range, Spike,” Jet said to the radio in response to the static. “Good luck, partner.” He lowered the volume, and added softly, “And Godspeed.” Jet had no intention of shutting the radio off, entirely. He wanted to hear when Spike was back in range. But the static was an annoying reminder of just how bad the situation was. He definitely did not care for being out of contact like this.

 

The sound of metal hitting metal alerted him to Al's presence on the ship. He looked back to see the suit of armor entering the cockpit. “They just left radio range, Al.” The boy nodded, but remained silent.

 

He stopped next to Jet, but just stared out the huge ports. The boy's whole demeanor tugged at his heart. This has to be tough on both of them, he thought. I wonder if they've ever been apart like this. He was fairly certain the answer to that was no.

 

“They'll be back soon,” Jet said. “And they'll be fine.”

 

“I hope so,” Al said.

 

“So do I,” he thought.

 

He couldn't help thinking about all the trouble they could get into, and how impossible it would be to get them out of it. There was no real back-up plan. Jet didn't like it, either. If we don't hear from them by sundown tomorrow, we write them off as a loss, he thought. Get Al to destroy the Bebop, and go into hiding.

 

He felt his stomach clench at the very idea of destroying the ship that was as much an extension of himself as his own arm. No choice. If Spike and Ed are caught, then we're exposed. This village is small and isolated. They've acted like this was nothing to be concerned about. But we can't be sure the rest of this world will.

 

Jet thought about the three soldiers back in Pinako's house right now. They're keeping our confidence now. But their first priority is the Elric brothers. If one of them is injured or killed, then all bets are off. The Bebop will get swarmed by State Scientists, and taken apart to see how she ticks. And Spike, McKenna and I will all go under a microscope.

 

He knew McKenna had a better chance of escape, but he and Spike would be prisoners. Like hell. It might be a tight fit, but I can get Al in the Hammerhead with me. We'll get those two out of whatever jam they're in, if we have to.

 

Jet knew, logically, that would be an even bigger risk. But he also knew that there was no way he would leave Spike behind. He'd make a lousy prisoner, anyway. He also knew he couldn't condemn Al to spend the rest of his life without the only blood he had left in this world, without at least trying a rescue.

 

“I wouldn't make any bets on any of us, Jet.” Spike had said.

 

Jet didn't plan to make any bets. He intended to stack the deck, and make sure he won this game.

 

He started leading Al into casual conversation. The more information he could get, the better armed he could be, if it came to that. Unlike his partner, Jet preferred to know as much about a situation as possible.

 

 

[5.5.5.5]

 

 

McKenna remained on the porch after everyone else had gone back inside. A number of things ran circles in her mind. One of them being why she felt comfortable around all these people. She trusted no one unless she was forced to, or if they'd earned it. Yet she was not afraid to be herself around any of them.

 

Kind of hard to hide what I am, she admitted. No one is treating me like a freak about it. And no one wants to exploit me, either.

 

The greatest kindnesses I've ever experienced have always been here.

 

McKenna had always appreciated irony. There was plenty of it to go around in her long life, too. Advanced civilization tried to find out what made me tick, and turn me into a weapon, and a backwards little village on a backwater planet that doesn't even have air flight treats me like any normal person.

 

She considered the risks that Ed and Spike were taking at this very moment. Spike taking the risk makes sense. He and Jet don't belong here, and they want to go home. But Ed? What is he going to gain?

 

She felt a presence behind her and a hint of aromatic smoke tickled her nose. She smiled.

 

“Those boys have always done what they thought they had to do, regardless of the reasons they shouldn't,” Pinako said.

 

McKenna sighed and nodded. “They come by it honestly, don't they?”

 

The tiny old woman joined her side, and said, “You know why Hohenheim left, don't you?”

 

McKenna head snapped around, and her eyes went wide. She felt her face grow hot, and she frantically tried to come up with something plausible.

“You don't have to tell me,” Pinako said. “I know he had a good reason. How much have you told the boys?”

 

She calmed a little, and looked back out at the stars in the sky. “The truth, in so far as what I witnessed with my own eyes.”

 

Pinako nodded. “Good.”

 

They became silence for a bit, each lost in their own thoughts. Finally, McKenna said, “I never had a chance to thank you for helping to nurse me back to health all those years ago.”

 

“Trish, and then Hohenheim were family. By extension, that makes you family.”

 

McKenna felt her eyes sting. Family.