Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction / Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ Gotta Knock a Little Harder ❯ Ab Vox d'Angel ( Chapter 12 )

Ab Vox d'Angel

 

With angel's voices, with eloquent tongue and delicate words, smoother than English linen, with excellent words and without coughin and well expressed, with laments and sighs they teach the way… Qntal (Qntal II) (Trans lyrics)

 

The sight of the tracks moving below Ed was hypnotic, and he kept wanting to nod off. Then he'd remember he was in control of a very fast projectile that was in danger of crashing, and he'd snap back to alertness.

 

But Jet is on his way, he told himself. It won't be long, now.

 

It didn't help. It only served to remind Ed that he was still a child, and inexperienced. Then again, how many people can actually brag they flew a spacecraft?

 

Another, more disappointing thought went through his mind immediately after that. Of course I can't brag about it either. Dammit!

 

Jet's voice came over the radio, snapping him out of his thoughts. “How're you holding up, Ed?”

 

Ed was relieved at the sound of that voice. “Better, now.”

 

“Good,” Jet said. “We're in the air, and on our way. Just hold on.”

 

“We?”

 

“Al's with me.”

 

Ed felt the dried blood and dirt cracking as a huge grin spread across his face. “Hey, Al. What do you think of flying?”

 

There was a moment of silence, and Ed was afraid for a moment that he'd lost contact. Then a deep chuckle filtered through the radio. “I don't think your brother's opened his eyes since we took off.”

 

“Heh. C'mon, Al! Open your eyes, and look around. This is great!”

 

“Uuuuuhhhhh. That's what you think, Brother!”

 

Ed chuckled.

 

There was a sudden grinding noise, and the Swordfish lurched. “Shit! What was that?”

 

“I heard it too, Ed,” Jet said. “Just stay calm.” But the grimness of his own voice did little to ease the boy's fears.

 

The downward motion of the craft was more noticeable now and Ed pulled back on the grips. Unfortunately, all it did was bring the nose up, and slow the craft down. It was still losing altitude.

 

“Jet, I'm going down,” Ed said. “What do I do now?”

 

“Keep the nose up, Ed. You'll stand a better chance of walking away when you crash, if you do.”

 

“When I crash?” Ed squeaked.

 

“No bullshit Ed,” Jet said. “I'm not going to gloss it over. You're in trouble, and I need you to stay calm. If you stay calm, you'll have a better chance of staying alive. Understand?”

 

Ed swallowed hard. “Yeah. I got the nose up.”

 

“Can you steer?”

 

“A little. It's stiff though.”

 

“Look around you, Ed,” Jet said. “What is the lay of the land?”

 

Ed looked. This was farm country. All he could see were fields of gold out one side; the train tracks and the river out the other. There was nothing remarkable about the area. Not even a village.

 

“Rolling hills. Grain. Not much of anything else.”

 

[1.1.1.1]

 

Bad news, Jet thought. Bland scenery. No landmarks. But if he stays with the tracks, we can find him.

 

He looked down to see the shadow of the Hammerhead leaving dry land, and reflecting off a still lake. At least he's not going down in water. He felt a chill at the thought of what a nightmare that would be.

 

He kept the boy talking. It served two purposes, it kept him in signal, and it kept him calm. As long as his voice came through that radio, the VU would read the strength, and it would give Jet an idea of how far away they were.

 

And Spike wanted to yank his old analogue radio out, he thought. Thank God he never got around to it. Sometimes an upgrade isn't an improvement.

 

He heard another ugly and dangerous sound over the radio, and he knew that Ed and Spike would be going down soon. All the Swordfish is doing now, is gliding. And she's not doing that very well. If that gimped aileron comes off, they're going to start spinning and drop like a lead balloon.

 

Maybe we should force the landing.

 

Jet decided, and told Ed. He wished Alphonse didn't have to hear him tell his brother to deliberately crash, but there was nothing to be done about it now. Ed's reaction was… expected.

 

“You want me to do what?”

 

“Listen to me, Ed,” Jet said. “You got two choices. You can try to hold on until I make it to you; maybe in time to get the grapple on you and tow you home. But if that aileron comes completely off, you have no control in how you go down.

 

“Or you can take the Swordfish down deliberately, and control the crash.”

 

“Gah! How far away are you?”

 

“I don't know, Ed. That's the problem. I could be about 30 minutes away, or I might be closer. Are you willing to take that chance?”

 

Al leaned forward in his seat, pushing Jet nearly into the controls of the Hammerhead. “Brother, you should do what Jet says. Please!”

 

“How far away are you, Al?”

 

Of course, Jet thought. Al would be able to give Ed an idea of how long it'll take.

 

[2.2.2.2]

 

“We're just flying past the western shore of Lake Eufala.” Al said.

 

Ed did some rough mental calculations. From the time they left the Bebop, until they reached the western shore of the lake took them about 15 minutes. A trip that was about half a day by train. He whistled low when he realized just how fast Jet had to be flying. It took Spike a little longer, but it was also night time.

 

He glanced down at the land whizzing past below him, and then off to the horizon. The eastern shore of Lake Eufala wasn't but maybe ten minutes away at his current speed. But it was a huge lake. Even with the tracks crossing it at its narrowest point, it still took a train about two hours to cross.

 

That's a big area to go down in, he thought. We might never be found.

 

He glanced back in the mirror at Spike. His pallor was worse, and his breathing was shallow. Not good, Ed thought. If I crash this thing, we might have to wait awhile for Jet to find us, and Spike might end up dead. And the further I go, the closer I get to him.

 

But there's that damned lake, too.

 

“Jet, what are our chances of surviving this forced landing of yours?” Ed asked.

 

There was a hesitation from the older man. “The odds are better, than if you don't land before that aileron snaps off,” Jet said.

 

Ed glanced back at the broken aileron, and a hint of a smile crept across his face. “What would happen if that aileron wasn't falling off, but was fused to the wingtip?”

 

“Brother, don't—“

 

“Ed, goddammit, don't you pull anything stupid,” Jet said.

 

“I gotta make a decision quick, Jet. I've got a seriously injured man on my hands, and the lake is coming up,” Ed said. “What can I expect if that aileron is fused to the wing?”

 

He could hear Jet growl. “You're gunna have sluggish control, especially without the hydraulics. But… you won't spin out of control.”

 

Ed grinned. Jet added, “You still might go down before we get to you, Ed. And I don't know if we can find you if you go down in that lake.”

 

Ed clapped his hands, and then slapped one to the side of the cockpit. The broken aileron fused to the wing in a fury of light and sparks. The craft started shaking a little.

 

“Then I guess we need to hurry up,” he said, then gripped the accelerator tighter and rolled it forward. “I'm speeding this game up, Jet. I'll be following the tracks.”

 

“Ed!”

 

“Brother!”

 

Ed ignored them, and raced toward the lake following the tracks. The shaking of the Swordfish was worse at the higher speed, and he was still losing altitude. The controls were harder than hell, but with dogged determination, Edward Elric was not going to have to finesse landing this thing.

 

[3.3.3.3]

 

“Edward! Dammit!” Jet yelled and slammed his fist into the side of the cockpit. He heard Al moan softly behind him, as he leaned forward and accelerated. “Help me keep an eye out for your crazy brother, Al. At this speed we could pass each other and not even know it.”

 

He did a quick command on the keypad, and prepped the grapple. He knew that when it happened, he was going to have to be lightning fast and deadly accurate. They weren't going to get a second chance.

 

“Damn that kid,” he grumbled. “A fucking loose cannon, just like Spike. No wonder those two get along so well.”

 

[4.4.4.4]

 

Ed raced ever forward, growing ever closer to the surface of the lake. The Swordfish shook so badly he thought his teeth might come loose.

 

He was close enough to the surface of the water to see the ripples in it, and to shake up a couple old men out fishing. Ed thought about the tale they'd be telling when they got back home that night.

 

He kept watching the horizon, hoping to see the Hammerhead appear, but it remained empty. He was beginning to think that he'd made a horrible mistake.

 

He pulled the nose up more, and rolled the accelerator forward, but the response was sluggish.

 

He felt the bottom of the engine ring tap the water, and bounce him back up, shaking the grips out of his hands. No time to even curse, he clamped down on them again, and pulled back, but now he felt dragging.

 

He knew he was hitting water with the lowest part of the craft, and knew then he wasn't going to be able to coax any more altitude out of the Swordfish. Wakes rose from the belly of the craft, and the speed dropped. Ed could see the surface of the water licking the canopy, and sloshing over the nose. The laser cannon was almost completely immersed.

 

With the speed reduced to almost nothing, the Swordfish settled in the water, and rapidly started to sink.

 

“I-I gambled,” he said. “And I lost. I'm sorry, Al.”

 

“Not so fast, Ed,” Jet said an instant before the boy heard something big hit the craft, and a horrible screech of tearing metal. Next thing Ed knew, he was practically straining the straps for all they were worth, and the water was moving away from him.

 

He recovered, and looked up in time to see the Hammerhead fly over. Then he was slung about the cockpit as much as the straps would allow, and seeing the world move away from him in reverse.

 

It made him dizzy, and he gulped air to keep from puking, but that was the best feeling in the world.