Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction / Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction ❯ Once More, With Pirates ❯ Hotel California ( Chapter 5 )

A/N: Riker thinks too much! I cut a ton of exposition from this chapter, but damned if it didn't make any difference. Ah, well. Now that the “Briefing” and formal hubbub is out of the way, maybe we can get down to the actual -story-. Ya think?

 

Well, things have managed to develop nicely, though. References to “Gotta Knock a Little Harder” have been made, and that would include a little “inside joke”. Well, it's an inside joke if you didn't read the first story, anyway. And now we know there is a little twist to the timelines everyone is involved in. Hooray for complications.

 

Slight possible confusion alert:  In this scene, McKenna mentions that she's an alchemist.  This wasn't in the original story, but is part of the revisions that are being made to "Gotta Knock".  Less MarySue.  Instead of her just being "magical", there's a valid and "believable" reason for what she can do.  If anyone is brave enough to see all the background work that was done in making her less MarySue, by all means, email me, and I'll stuff your inbox with it.  But I warn you, some of the stuff is a bit... disturbing.  And hints at just -what- is so disturbing will show up in this story.

 

Chapters: 5

Word Count, This Chapter: 2651

Word Count Total: 15,733

Words Left: 34,267

Moments of Insanity (Dares Used): 4

Number of Mimes Killed: Still just one

Other Deaths: 1 (Ha! NOT!)

 

 

 

Hotel California

 

Last thing I remember; I was running for the door; I had to find the passage back to the place I was before; Relax said the nightman; We are programmed to receive; You can check out any time you like; But you can never leave - Eagles (Hotel California)

 

Riker had entered the War Room, and silently thanked Data for having the forethought to order the port shields down from the bridge. Mustang and Hughes had been calm, but suffered information overload when they got a look at the screen. Fortunately, Scar wasn't in a position on the bridge to see it himself, and considering the man's temperament, Riker didn't want to risk having him completely blow a gasket.

 

He'd been the last to enter, with the exception of the Captain, and he took a moment to assess the group in front of him. Mustang had taken the seat at the foot of the table, with Hughes to his right, and Jet to his left. The two men on either side of the Colonel were leaned forward on the table, talking in low tones, but the conversation seemed friendly enough. Mustang was sitting back, with his arms crossed, and his eyes closed, and Riker wondered if he might be dozing. He certainly looked like he'd already gone through a ringer before Riker saw him in the temple. But then Hughes made a comment that caused Jet to chuckle, and Mustang to open one eye and arch a brow at the other man.

 

Data had taken the seat next to Hughes and was listening to the conversation with rapt attention. Riker also knew that he was subtly playing shield between the rest of the party and McKenna, who was on Data's other side. He knew there was no love lost between her and Jet, but he wasn't sure about the rest of them. He could also feel the tension that surrounded her like a cloak. He had little doubt she felt it too, as she was looking down, not around at anyone, or anything.

 

Scar was across the table from her and watched her, unblinking. When he felt Riker's eyes on him, he looked up. The burning obsession in the man's red eyes was almost palpable, and hit Riker right in the chest. But what he didn't see was insanity, nor did he appear to be dull-witted. Calculating, highly intelligent, mixed with religious fervor and vengeance, made for a chilling combination. Riker glanced up at Worf, who'd taken up a spot behind Scar. The Klingon nodded; no matter what Picard's decision on the matter of Scar, he was going to be watched very closely.

 

Like McKenna, Scar kept himself apart from the rest of the group, both literally and figuratively; there was an empty seat between himself and Faye.

 

Faye was boredly filing her nails, and looked like she couldn't care less about anything going on around her at the moment. Riker somewhat sympathized with her on that. From what he could figure out so far, she had absolutely no connection to the events that occurred. For all intents and purposes, she'd just been caught in the crossfire. But Riker knew Q never did anything by accident. In that sense, Faye was a vital key. Figure out what hers and the girl's connections are, and we might just be able to defeat Q's game.

 

His eyes landed on Spike, finally. Between Jet and Faye; he was leaned back in the chair with his arms behind his head, and his feet up on the table. He appeared to be asleep. But Riker caught the subtle tightening of his lips as he pulled a drag off the lit cigarette.

 

Riker conspicuously cleared his throat and everyone, with the exception of Spike, gave him their undivided attention. “Spike,” he said. The only indication that he'd even heard Riker was one eye opening, and rolling in his direction. “There's no smoking in here.”

 

Spike cocked a brow, then he opened his mouth, and deftly flipped the lit cigarette into it. Riker heard the hiss of the fire going out, then goggled as he watched the man swallow it. Spike then opened his mouth wide, and shoved out his tongue to prove that he did, indeed, swallow the cigarette.

 

“Spike, show a little respect,” Jet said.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, as he dropped his feet, and opened his eyes.

 

Picard finally arrived, and Riker watched as Hughes and Mustang jumped to their feet, and stood at attention; including the salute. He noticed that Jet came to his feet, as well, but was rather more casual. A gesture of respect, but not military, Riker thought.

 

Picard stopped in his tracks a moment, and smiled a little. Then he pulled out the seat at the head of the table, and said, “Please be seated gentlemen. We don't stand on such strict military protocol here.”

 

Riker caught Worf's eye, and the Klingon nodded. “Folks, I'm going to have to ask all of you to turn over any weapons you're carrying, please,” Riker said.

 

Riker's brows shot up at the range and number of items that finally ended up on the table. Six handguns, ten throwing knives, a switchblade, two grenades, and a pair of gloves. Riker saw the gloves land on the pile, and looked questioningly at Mustang.

 

“It's the flint embedded in the gloves that creates the spark, Commander,” he said. “And the transmutation circle on them that enables me to manipulate the oxygen.”

 

“I see,” Riker said, even though he didn't. “And Lieutenant Havoc?”

 

“Standard military issue sidearm, Commander,” Mustang said. “Nothing more.”

 

“What about the boys?”

 

Mustang smiled slightly. “They have no need to carry any.”

 

Riker chuckled low, and said, “No, I suppose they wouldn't.” He turned to Jet, and asked, “What about the girl?”

 

“Nope.” Then he smiled slightly, and inclined his head toward Data. “But I wouldn't advise letting her get too close to your android there. She's liable to hack into his brain.”

 

Mustang and Hughes looked at Jet, and then Data, confusion furrowing their brows. “Android?” Mustang asked.

 

“Yes,” Data said, and launched into a short definition of what an android was.

 

The tension from the two men was suddenly thick enough to cut with a phaser, and Riker asked, “Is there a problem, gentlemen?”

 

Hughes and Mustang stared at each other a long moment, and then it seemed that they came to a silent agreement. Riker was beginning to wonder if telepathy was another of their abilities, besides what they called alchemy. Finally Mustang turned to Riker and said, “No Sir. No problem.” He looked at Data, then Picard, and said, “Captain, you'll have to forgive our reaction.”

 

“Nothing to forgive, Colonel,” Picard said. “At your level of technological development, it is understandable that you didn't know.”

 

Mustang shook his head, and said, “I'm afraid you don't understand, Captain.” He turned his attention back to Data. “Mr… Data. What you just described… what was created with your technology… some have achieved with alchemy. On our world, they're called homunculi. They are living dolls that have no soul.”

 

“They are an abomination,” Scar said, softly. He stared at Data with a mixture of revulsion and curiosity; but Riker noted that he wasn't nearly as tense as the other two men were at first.

 

Mustang nodded at Scar, and said, “Yes. On our world human alchemy is taboo. But we're not on our world, Scar. We're in someone else's, and thus bound by their laws. I think you would do well to remember that.”

 

Scar stared hard at Mustang, then raised his right arm and slowly pulled back the sleeve. “This arm has been rendered impotent by Q, Flame Alchemist. I have little choice but to honor the temporary truce that has been forced upon me.”

 

Riker felt some of the tension leave his own body at those words, and he cast a quick glance at Picard. He saw that the Captain also looked a bit more relieved. That's one complication out of the way, he thought. But he wasn't going to relax that much. Worf had a standing order that Scar would be kept under surveillance regardless.

 

The door chirped, and two of Worf's security team came in to gather the weapons. As the Klingon gathered them together, and turned them over to the two young Ensigns, Riker had to suppress a smile at their looks of shock.

 

“I was wondering how many of those things you carried, Hughes,” Jet said, nodding at the pile of throwing knives, as Worf picked them up.

 

Hughes chuckled low, and said, “Well, I lost a few of them last night when we encountered Kimbley, too.”

 

Jet's eyes narrowed, and Spike's head snapped up. Jet scowled. “Last night?” He leaned forward on the table and pinned Hughes with the intensity of his look. “That's been over a year for us.”

 

Mustang raised a brow. “Fascinating. So Q didn't take you when he took us.”

 

Riker and Data exchanged a glance. “This is an interesting development,” Riker said.

 

“Indeed. Why would Q not take them all at the same time?”

 

“And why would he grab Faye and Ed too?” Jet asked. “They have no connection to the crash, or to McKenna.”

 

Spike rolled his seat back a little and looked over at Scar. “You remember me, Scar?”

 

The Ishballan nodded.

 

“How long ago did we meet?”

 

“It was at least six months ago,” Scar said.

 

Riker noticed that McKenna had become very interested in the conversation, now. “McKenna?”

 

She started, and looked up at him. “The Bebop crashed at Amestris two and a half years ago. At least for me.”

 

“And you showed up this morning, don't forget,” Jet said.

 

McKenna scowled, and shook her head. “No I didn't. I haven't seen you since…” Her eyes fell on Spike and her face went pale. Then she looked up at Riker, silently pleading.

 

“Data?” Riker asked, keeping his eyes on McKenna.

 

“It appears there is a time divergence of some magnitude, Sir. It might be wise to suspend this line of discussion until we know more,” Data said.

 

“Agreed,” Picard said.

 

“It would seem that the starting point would have been the day the Bebop crashed,” Mustang said.

 

“Or, more precisely, the end of that little face-off between you and Spike,” Jet said.

 

Hughes chuckled, and Mustang looked at him archly. “Is something amusing, Major?”

 

“That's Lieutenant Colonel,” Hughes corrected.

 

“That can be remedied,” Mustang said.

 

Hughes stopped laughing, but he didn't stop smiling. Riker noticed that Jet was in a bit of distress at the moment, though. He had his arms crossed, but one hand up over his eyes, and his shoulders were shaking violently. From the smile the man had on his face, it was obvious that he was struggling to suppress outright laughter.

 

Spike, on the other hand, was giving his partner a narrow-eyed glare. “You know, if you'd just waited one minute, it would have all been over, Jet.”

 

“Indeed,” Mustang said. “Your partner would have been unconscious and that much less of a nuisance for awhile.”

 

“You've been sniffing too many fumes off those gloves of yours, Mustang,” Spike said. “I had you, and you know it.”

 

“Gentlemen,” Picard said over the bantering. Everyone was immediately silenced, and he finished, “Let us get back to the matter at hand, shall we?”

 

He faced McKenna, and asked, “What is your connection to all these people?”

 

“I'm an alchemist, Sir. I'm able to manipulate space and time. I'm from one universe, but I've been to the other. Several others, actually. I know most of the people here, either personally, or by reputation.”

 

Jet leaned back in his seat with his arms crossed. His jaw was tight, and he held McKenna with an icy stare. “She's the reason we crashed on their world, Captain,” he said, sharply.

 

“She is also a coward,” Scar added. “She betrayed her own when she chose to assist in the rebellion, and then turned around and betrayed us, when she was caught. She also deceived her Ishballan contacts by disguising herself as a boy, and lied about practicing the dark art. When she received alchemic enhancement, she manipulated space and caused 500 men, women, and children to vanish.” He grinned coldly at her, and added. “It will be a pleasure to end your life.”

 

“Not on my ship, you won't,” Picard snapped. He faced Scar fully, and said, “At this time, you've done nothing to warrant having you confined to quarters. But you will be under observation at all times, Scar. If you so much as threaten another person, I will personally throw you in the brig, and space the key. Are we clear?”

 

Scar stared hard at him for a long moment, then said, “I have already agreed to live by the forced truce while on your ship, Captain.” He cast a significant glare at McKenna, and added, “An Ishballan honors his agreements. Always.”

 

Picard silently accepted the declaration, then encompassed the entire group with a look. “So. Why is Q putting McKenna on trial? Knowing Q, there is something that we would easily overlook, and it's going to be a common thread in all three universes.”

 

“Captain Picard,” Scar said. “She killed hundreds of my people, shouldn't that be enough?”

 

Picard regarded the Ishballan a moment. “Scar, I agree that her actions were heinous. Unfortunately, that alone isn't going to be enough to get Q's attention.”

 

Riker studied the small woman across the table from him, and watched as she tried to disappear in the seat. He found it difficult to believe she could wreak havoc in one universe, let alone three. She was pale, and looked weak. Hardly a threat to anyone but herself, he thought.

 

“Mr. Data,” Picard said. A spark of humour lit his eyes, and he smiled slightly. “I'm afraid I'm going to have to assign detective duties to you. Considering the variances in elapsed time between all the parties involved, you are the only one I can allow access to all the information each of these people carries. I'm depending on you to filter anything out that would prove detrimental to any of the time lines involved.”

 

“Yes, Sir“

 

Picard then said to Riker, “Number One, get these people quartered.” An insistent, high-pitched gurgling interrupted, and everyone turned to the source of the sound. Spike was looking rather sheepish, and holding his stomach. “And fed,” the Captain added.

 

Riker grinned, and said, “Right away, Captain.”