Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction / Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ Gotta Knock a Little Harder ❯ Civil War ( Chapter 27 )

Civil War

 

My hands are tied; For all I've seen has changed my mind; But still the wars go on as the years go by; With no love of God or human rights; 'Cause all these dreams are swept aside; By bloody hands of the hypnotized; Who carry the cross of homicide; And history bears the scars of our civil wars -- Guns 'n' Roses (Use Your Illusion ll)

 

Ed was more than happy to get out of the Bebop and into some activity, no matter what it was. He was practically leaving Spike in the dust, as he crossed the deck in the bay, and headed for the open doorway.

 

Just before he stepped out into fresh air, he felt himself yanked back, and a long, thin hand clamped tight over his mouth. On instinct, he started to struggle; then realized it was Spike who'd grabbed him, and pulled him back. He felt a thrill of fear slam into his stomach, and he peered into the darkness.

 

It took a moment, and then he saw it. Movement in the trees. Shadows darker than the night slipping in and out like wraiths.

 

Spike dragged him silently back through the bay, and up the steps to the living area of the ship. It was only after the door leading in was closed tight, that Ed dared to find his voice. “What the hell? Spike, we need to get down there and help them.”

 

Spike hurdled over the upper deck railing, and down next to the couch, where McKenna was still sound asleep. He gripped her shoulder, and started to shake her awake. “We're not going to do any good if we get caught right along side of them, Ed.”

 

Ed scowled, and felt like the wind had been taken out of his sails. He knew Spike was right.

 

“McKenna, wake your ass up,” Spike said, shaking her again.

 

Ed came down the steps into the lower deck, and watched as Spike slapped her a couple of times to get her awake. Her eyes rolled and fluttered, then opened.

 

He glanced up at Ed, as he pulled McKenna upright. “There's more than one way in and out of this ship. We're going to come around behind them, and try to even some of the odds.”

 

“Wha--?” McKenna said, groggy.

 

“Wake up, you.”

 

She blinked, and became instantly alert. “What's going on?”

 

Spike jerked his head at McKenna, and Ed helped him get her to her feet. “We're in trouble, McKenna. I need to get you somewhere safer than this.”

 

The two of them practically dragged her to the small head right off the lounge. Spike shoved her in, and she fell down onto the toilet. “What do you want me to do?” she asked.

 

As he closed the door, he said, “Hide. Don't come out of there until one of us comes for you, got it?”

 

She nodded, and the door sealed shut.

 

[1.1.1.1]

 

Jet felt the short hairs on the back of his neck rise when he noticed the crickets and frogs had stopped singing. He glanced over at Hughes, and noticed he was more alert, and scanning the darkness as he whispered low to Al. Mustang looked like he was ready to spring.

 

An instant later, the trees erupted with uniformed soldiers bringing weapons to bear on the small group. At the same time, Mustang was on his feet, and snapping his fingers. A ball of flame created enough of a diversion for the other three to do some damage.

 

These are mercenaries, Jet realized as he came to his feet. And that thought was more frightening than if they had been regular army.

 

He kicked a branch of firewood out of the flames, and into his hands. Without a pause, he swung on the closest merc, slamming the burning end of the branch into his face with a shower of sparks. He continued the motion all the way around as he dropped the shattered pieces of the branch, grabbed another by his head, and twisted. It made a satisfying crunch, and he went down like a sack of wet laundry. He relieved him of his rifle, and swung it by the barrel, shattering the butt into the skull of another. He flipped it around, primed it, and pointed it at a fourth. Without hesitation, he pulled the trigger, bringing the mercenary down.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Hughes slicing a merc's throat, and briefly wondered just how many of those knives the man kept hidden on him. Hughes must have seen the questioning look on his face, because he gave him a half-smile, shrugged, and a little salute before he was back in the fray.

 

Mustang had to resort to old-fashioned hand-to-hand, as it was too close now for him to use his flames efficiently without endangering their small group, but he was still doing his share of damage.

 

Of Al, Jet saw no sign at first. Then he caught sight of him backing one mercenary up while he held the muzzle of his rifle right at the boy's chest, and Jet heard him say, “If you shoot at me, you'll only hurt yourself.” Behind the boy were a couple of others on the ground, and down for the count. The gunman didn't listen to logic. Jet winced when he fired, and the bullet ricocheted. Somewhere nearby, another merc screamed as he was hit.

 

The battle was stopped as suddenly as it started, when someone fired into the air, and the remaining invaders stepped back, keeping weapons trained on the group. It was only then that Jet had a moment to come to the realization that not a single one of them had fired on anyone but Al.

 

The mercenaries parted, and another stepped through the crowd. Jet knew instantly that this one was regular army. With him were Pinako, Winry, and Sheska; hands tied and gags over their mouths. They were held back from the rest of the group and guns held to their heads.

 

“I'm Major Jackson Breedlove, Colonel. I'm under orders to take control of this situation.” He stepped forward, and handed the orders to Mustang.

 

The Colonel took them, and read. “These orders are from Lieutenant Colonel Archer.” He handed them back to the Major with a raised brow. “You are aware that I outrank him?”

 

Breedlove smirked, and pulled out another set of papers from the inside of his coat pocket. He handed those to Mustang as well. “He has the backing of the Fuehrer.”

 

Mustang's jaw tensed, as he read the papers.

 

[2.2.2.2]

 

Falman kept to the thick of the trees, but had followed the Major and his small group from the Rockbell's to the river bank. He couldn't miss the huge, odd-looking boat floating in the river, and wondered if that was what all the fuss was about. He could recognize Mustang, Hughes, and Alphonse, but there was a large man with an automail arm that he didn't know. With what little information he had available, he assumed the unknown man was the captain of the boat, and he was on the side of Mustang.

 

Of the other soldiers on his commanding officer's staff, there was no sign. Neither was there any sign of Fullmetal. Falman found that particularly disturbing, since the two brothers were never far from each other. He could only assume that the diminutive boy was undiscovered by the mercenaries, and somewhere amongst the trees, as well.

 

He felt a cold chill trail down his spine, and then instantly realized it for what it was… water. An instant after that, he felt the cold bite of a blade against his throat, and he slowly raised his hands. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement. The owner of the blade stepped to the side, and looked down at him.

 

There was a sigh of relief from Ed, and he brought his automail arm back down and returned it to normal. “Er, sorry, Sir.” He knelt down next to Falman, and the Warrant Officer caught movement on his other side. A lanky young man with an unruly mop of hair glanced over at him, and nodded slightly.

 

Ed made a quick introduction, and concentrated on the gathering of uniformed mercenaries near the ship. Falman noticed that both of them were soaked through.

 

“How many do you count?” Spike asked Falman.

 

“Originally about 40,” he said. “But our guys put a sizable dent in that.” He looked over at Spike and said, “Where are the rest of our people?”

 

Spike was searching through the trees, as he said, “My guess is, they figured out these mercs gave them the slip, and are probably on their way back here, right now.”

 

“They were going to meet them on the other side of town?”

 

Spike nodded.

 

“That can work to our advantage,” Falman said.

 

“You have something in mind?”

 

“Yes. Wait.”

 

Ed had other ideas. He was up and running toward the clearing, and the mercenaries before Falman could say a thing. He lurched to his feet, and Spike yanked him right back down. “He knows what he's doing,” he said.

 

[3.3.3.3]

 

Jet watched as Mustang's jaw tensed while reading the orders. The Colonel's reaction to the orders from the country's leader did not set well with him, at all. If their Fuehrer is using mercs, then this country is going to shit, Jet thought. Bad news for people like Mustang and Hughes.

 

He looked over at Mustang, and caught movement in the shadows beyond him. A glance over at Hughes told him that the investigator saw the same thing. Silently he caught the eye of Winry, and made a subtle gesture. Her eyes went wide, and she nodded imperceptibly. A quick glance at Pinako and Sheska confirmed for him that they were afraid, but understood.

 

Mustang handed the papers back to Breedlove, and said, “These orders are forged.”

 

Armstrong charged out of the trees and brought his fist up. Jet yelled for the women to drop, just as the giant's fist crashed into the ground in a shower of sparks. Sharp stones flew at the mercenaries, pinning some, killing a couple others.

 

At the same time, Ed flew out from the other direction, clapped his hands together, and slammed them in the dirt. A huge rock wall burst up through the ground, between the mercs and the others. Jet, Hughes, and Mustang each grabbed a hostage, and herded them out of the line of fire, while Alphonse worked to disable any mercenaries that got caught on the wrong side of Ed's wall.

 

It wasn't much work for the rest of Mustang's soldiers, Spike, and one other to secure those that remained.

 

It was over almost as soon as it had started.

 

[4.4.4.4]

 

When all the shouting was over with, Ed had alchemized a nice little cage to put the surviving mercs in until the authorities could haul them off, they'd collected an impressive pile of weapons, and Hawkeye and Havoc took off to help Fuery and Breda with escorting the drivers to the cage.

 

Mustang took Jet aside, and asked, “How long will it take you to launch?”

 

“Not long, but I don't know if we have enough fuel to break orbit.”

 

The look on Mustang's face told him there was more of a problem than he first assumed. “The orders from your Fuehrer weren't forged, were they?”

 

Mustang shook his head. “And I'm guessing the regular troops aren't more than a day behind these mercenaries.”

 

“Which means they'll be here in less time than that.”

 

Mustang chuckled, and nodded. “Indeed.”

 

Spike had joined them then, and Jet said, “Time to go, partner.”

 

Mustang held out a hand to Spike. He looked down at it, and after a long moment, shook it.

 

“Under different circumstances,” Mustang said. “I might have called you friend.”

 

“Likewise.”

 

[5.5.5.5]

 

Moments later, Mustang stood alone on the dock, while the Bebop's engines whined louder in the build-up of thrust for launch. It was only when he saw the bulk begin to rise out of the water, did he go join the rest at a safer distance.

 

Soon, the hulking ship lurched forward, kicking up a wake as it did. As it headed relentlessly down the river and built up speed, it slowly rose to the sky. Mustang was wide-eyed at the enormity of the craft when it finally broke free of the river.

 

Hughes clapped him on the shoulder, and joined him in staring at the launch.

 

“How close did we come to destroying our own world, Maes?” Mustang asked. “A ship like that, armed, could force the entire planet under the thumb of one government.”

 

“I can't help but think that a lot of good could come from it as well, Roy.”

 

Mustang looked at his friend for a long moment, and then shook his head. “We're not ready to do that, yet.”

 

He turned back to the Bebop climbing in the distance. “I wonder if we ever will be.”

 

[6.6.6.6]

 

Jet watched the fuel levels, and scowled. The gradual ascent, which took less thrust, and therefore less fuel, wasn't helping. They weren't going to break the atmosphere before they ran out, and started back down.

 

There was one chance, and it was a risky one. “Spike, where's McKenna right now?”

 

“In the lounge. Why?”

 

“Get her in here, and let's get her strapped down.”

 

A moment later, Jet had gotten up, and McKenna was getting strapped into the pilot's seat. He leaned over her, and set up a series of commands into the console. “Can you move us in atmosphere, McKenna?” he asked.

 

When she didn't answer right off, he looked back at her. Her eyes were wide, and her mouth was gaping like a fish out of water. “Well?” he demanded.

 

“I… I don't know.”

 

“Dammit,” he said, and turned back to the command console.

 

“No choice,” Spike said.

 

“Nope. Get your ass strapped in.”

 

“What about you?”

 

Jet glanced up at his partner. He set his jaw, and went back to entering commands without another word. His hand hovered over the enter key, and he said, “Hold on.”

 

As soon as he hit the command, the Bebop changed it's angle of ascent to straight up, and the thrusters kicked in at full. McKenna and Spike were pressed back against their seats as the ship started pulling more Gs. Jet was thrown back against the nav console. His vision blurred, and started to go black. But before he lost consciousness, he saw the fuel level drop to nothing in an instant.

 

[7.7.7.7]

 

Spike had tied his console in with the primary controls as soon as he saw what Jet was setting up, but the thrust of the sharp ascent pressed him deeper into the seat, and made it all but impossible to reach the panel. Alarms went off, as the ship was pushed to its structural limits, and the fuel levels dropped. He fought the blackness that tried to take over his vision, and remain conscious.

 

He'd heard Jet get slammed back into the nav console, and knew there was no help to be had there.

 

“McKenna, if you're gunna do something, better make it quick,” he yelled over the screaming of the engines.

 

He could hear her gasping and fighting to stay conscious behind him. “I… can't!” she said.

 

Spike could see the edge of the atmosphere looming ahead, and silently willed the Bebop to ascend just a little further, where the inertia could keep them going in the vacuum.

 

Suddenly, the engines sputtered, and died. There was no more fuel.

 

There was a stomach-churning lurch, and the ship started slowing down as the friction of the atmosphere fought against the giant projectile trying to escape. The force of gravity lessened in the ship as it slowed, and Spike was able to reach the controls again.

 

He knew that they wouldn't break atmosphere. All he could do now, is control the crash, and prayed they survived. Or at least died quickly.

 

[8.8.8.8]

 

The Bebop had become nothing more than a tiny speck in the sky to the people on the ground. The show was over, they were gone.

 

Mustang felt a sense of relief, and only then realized he'd been holding his breath.

 

He turned away, and faced Major Breedlove in the cage.

 

“Official troops will be arriving soon,” Mustang said. “They're only going to find a handful of mercenaries in a cage, and no evidence of aliens, or their technology. You'll be court-marshaled.”

 

“Heh. It'll be a formality, nothing more. There'll be a big cover-up, Mustang. You know that.”

 

Mustang nodded. “I know. There's nothing I can do about that now. I just wanted to let you know…” A slow smile spread across his face. “Stay out of my way.”

 

He heard a low rumble of thunder, and the crowd stirring. Breedlove looked past him, and grinned.

 

Mustang spun and felt the blood drain from his face. “Dammit,” he whispered.

 

“They're going to crash in the foothills,” Hughes said.

 

The Bebop screamed down at an angle Mustang knew would be deadly, and disappeared behind the distant hills. He closed his eyes, and lowered his head. Silently mourning, and waiting for the sound of the crash to reach him.

 

It felt like the entire world was holding its breath, as he waited. Not a sound from anyone, except a small sob from the distance. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought it might be Winry who sobbed.

 

He heard a collective gasp, and he opened his eyes in time to see a bright flash, and a huge shockwave that folded the air in a rapidly spreading circle. A moment later, he was knocked to the ground when the shockwave reached him, and he fought to cover his eyes from the dust and debris flying through the air in the almost hurricane force winds.

 

An instant later, all was silent.

 

[9.9.9.9]

 

Spike fought with the controls, but he knew the landing was going to be rough. All he could hope for was that the Bebop would land top up, and not roll. A wave of nausea and disorientation swept over him, and he gripped the sides of the panel in order to keep upright.

 

He felt a sensation of the seat sliding backwards, that fought with what his eyes were telling him, and he gulped for breath.

 

As suddenly as it started, it was over, and the light coming through the ports was brighter. He looked up from the panel and saw… water. Everywhere.

 

He didn't take the time to question it; he just scrambled to keep control of the ship as best as he could.

 

The angle was bad, and the nose hit the water with a scream of protesting metal, and then bounced back up. The resultant drastic drop in speed jerked him forward, and the straps cut into his shoulders painfully. He fought to keep conscious, but there was little else he could do as the ship skipped through the water like a stone a few more times, then slowly settled.

 

The silence was deafening, then, and it took a moment for Spike to realize he really was still alive.

 

There was a chirp from beside him, and a panel that had remained dark for days suddenly came to life. Chatter in twelve different languages filtered through, and he just stared.

 

When comprehension finally hit, he whooped, and laughed. “Jet! We're home!”

 

He escaped the straps as quickly as he could, and bounded up to the Nav console. He helped his partner sit up, and checked to make sure he was still alive.

 

The man slowly opened his eyes, and grimaced. He rubbed the back of his head, and groaned.

 

“We made it, Jet.”

 

Jet was instantly more alert, and Spike helped him struggle to his feet. The older man stared in wonder out the ports, and then grinned. “Thank God!” he said.

 

Spike let go of his partner, and stepped down to check on McKenna. She wasn't moving, and was ashen. He couldn't even tell if she was breathing or not.

 

He knelt down, and rested his fingers on her throat. He felt the pulse. Steady and strong. Slowly her eyes opened, and he saw the question in them. “You got us home, McKenna.” She smiled a little and closed her eyes again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Epilogue

 

And it's something quite peculiar; Something that's shimmering and white. Leads you here despite your destination, Under the milky way tonight; Wish I knew what you were looking for. Might have known what you would find. Wish I knew what you were looking for. Might have known what you would find. Under the milky way tonight. -- Church (Starfish) “Under the Milky Way”

 

Jet finally, really slept. For the first time in days. It felt like months since his head felt the pillow on his bunk, and he was out in an instant. When he finally opened his eyes again, he'd been out for nearly 24 hours.

 

He settled himself on the couch in the lounge after getting a cup of coffee. Spike was across from him, still damp, and dressed only in a towel. Jet had a sudden sense of deja vu.

 

“Where's McKenna?” he asked.

 

Spike didn't bother to look up from his coffee, as he said. “Gone.”

 

The other man sighed, and rubbed the back of his neck. He saw the small backpack on the table then, and reached for it. He opened it up, and found the data from Gate Corp.

 

“She left this for you, too,” Spike said, and Jet looked up.

 

In the younger man's hand was a test tube mostly full of a red liquid, and a diffuse sprayer was attached to it. He caught it deftly when Spike tossed it to him; then he stared down at it lying in the palm of his cybernetic hand.

 

“She told me to tell you,” Spike said. “She made a new choice.”

 

Jet smiled a little, and then crushed the tube of Red-Eye in his hand.

 

[1.1.1.1]

 

There had been no evidence of a wreck anywhere in the foothills. Mustang and his staff had spent two days searching. All that could be had was evidence of strong winds, and rumours. As far as Mustang was concerned, that was just fine.

 

As they all headed back to Resembool in the back of their “borrowed” truck, the Colonel watched Ed sleeping like the dead against his brother. He almost envied the boy's ability to sleep just about anywhere. He wasn't sure when he'd next be able to enjoy it himself.

 

Havoc had the wheel, and Hawkeye was riding shotgun. The rest were in the back with him. He caught Hughes watching him from the bench across, and he smiled a little. “I can't help but wonder if we should have warned them.”

 

“They're going to have enough on their plates soon, anyway,” Hughes said. He glanced over at Ed, and nodded. “Besides, why take the chance that entity meant what he said, if we gave them any foreknowledge of what will happen?”

 

Mustang stared at the boys a moment, a grim set to his mouth. Then he looked back at Hughes. “When I saw those two boys die, a part of me died with them, Maes. That entity had us dancing like puppets on a string.

 

“I never wanted to look into the face of God.”

 

[O0o0o0O]

 

A/N: And it's finally finished. At least this part of the story. What is going to happen next? I'll leave you to speculate. In the meantime, please watch The CBBP movie: “Knockin' on Heaven's Door”, and the final episodes, “Real Folk Blues” parts 1 & 2, then read dragonnan's awesome continuation “Play Me Some More of that Old Blues”; which you can find here: http://www.mediaminer.org/fanfic/view_st.php/96917