Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction / Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction ❯ Once More, With Pirates ❯ Ring of Fire ( Chapter 15 )

A/N: Fullmetal struts his stuff, Scar discovers that not everything is as it seems, and a conspiracy begins to show itself?

 

Chapters: 15

Word Count, This Chapter: 3287

Word Count Total: 44,418

Words Left: 5582

 

 

Ring of Fire

 

I fell in to a burning ring of fire; I went down, down, down; and the flames went higher. And it burns, burns, burns; the ring of fire; the ring of fire. -Johnny Cash

 

“Edward Elric, you are one hell of a kid.”

 

Fullmetal gave Geordi a narrow-eyed glare as the transporter room faded, and said through gritted teeth, “Don't call me a kid.” By the time he'd finished the sentence, he was somewhere else entirely. He looked down at the dusty red ground, then up into a sky that was tinted pink. “We're here? Already?”

 

He blinked at the plume of icy breath and the sudden shock of biting cold on his face. He felt the cold on the rest of his body only slightly and briefly, then the suit automatically adjusted, and he was comfortable again.

 

Geordi clapped him on the shoulder, and said, “Welcome to Tharsus colony.”

 

“I expected there to be some time between leaving the platform and rematerializing on the planet,” Mustang said.

 

“Actually, there was approximately 1.48361 seconds of non-existence during the transporter process,” Data said. “But as you did not exist, you did not notice the passage of time.”

 

Mustang's carefully constructed mask started to weaken just for an instant, and his eyes widened slightly. Fullmetal didn't even try; his jaw just dropped.

 

Spike stretched his arms over his head and popped his neck. Then he opened up the top of the suit just enough to reach in, and pull out a pack of cigarettes. “Kinda takes some of the fun out of making planet-fall, though,” he said as he lit the cigarette. He took a deep drag, and slowly let it out, a look of pure pleasure on his face. “You miss out on the feeling of a monoracer shake and rattle like it's getting ready to come apart when you first hit the atmosphere; watching the nose glow like a traffic light from the friction. That feeling of uncertainty when you have to make rapid adjustments, and use both hands and feet to control the craft.”

 

He turned his face up to the reddened sky with his eyes closed, and he smiled as he seemed to be remembering the feeling.

 

“Hey! Get those breathers on,” a rather large, imposing man said as he approached the group.

 

As everyone put the filter masks over their nose and mouths, he looked them all over. His eyes fell on Fullmetal, and his brows shot up. The boy immediately stiffened, and waited for the inevitable short comment, but instead he saw the man's eyes crinkle over the mask, and he said, “Son, you're just the man we need right now.”

 

He looked back up, and said, “Sorry, I'm Sergeant Major Ashton. You're Enterprise crew? I don't recall seeing you when we beamed over from the Borne.”

 

Data made the introductions, and the Sergeant Major led them off. “This place is a damn rabbit warren of tunnels,” he said. “Something interfered with the sensor readings when we first made orbit, so we've been mapping manually. Finding the survivors has been damn slow because of it, too.”

 

As the group followed, Fullmetal hung back a bit and got into step with Mustang. He looked at the Colonel curiously, concern furrowing his brow. “You okay, Colonel?”

 

Mustang's eyes were unreadable above the mask. “I'm fine. Why do you ask?”

 

“Well, you haven't said anything about finding a suit that actually fit me. That's not normal for you.”

 

The Colonel looked him up and down, and even though his mouth was covered by the breather, Fullmetal just knew the man was smirking at him. After a moment, he said, “I'm sure that their clothing replicators blew a fuse trying to make the suit fit. I didn't want to add insult to injury.”

 

Fullmetal grinned, and said, “Glad to see you're going to be okay.” Then he ran to catch up with Spike at the front of the group.

 

At the command center, Ashton handed out arm bands with small green squares on them, and said, “Keep these on you at all times, folks. As soon as that square turns black, get back here for decon.”

 

As everyone put on the bands, Data said, “Has research ascertained what the contamination is, exactly?”

 

Ashton shook his head, “It's something we've never seen before. Some of the chemical compound is similar to other things, but damned if we know what it is. We've beamed some samples up to the ship, but they don't have any answers yet, either.”

 

“We know they were researching the mineral content here. Mining it, and refining it for possible new energy sources,” Geordi said. “But because they were privately funded, we don't have all the details.”

 

“Yeah, same here,” Ashton said, as he led them off.

 

“Is there anyone who can answer that, Sergeant Major?” Data asked.

 

Ashton pointed off toward a pile of rubble. “If you can find anyone alive in that mess, you might get an answer. That's all that's left of the main complex.”

 

It was unrecognizable as ever being a building of any sort, except for the bits of rebar poking up through the pile. There were people digging through the mess; little more than black specs crawling over a mountain of red and grey debris. It gave Fullmetal an idea of just how large the complex had been, and how badly it had collapsed.

 

“No sensor readings?” Geordi asked.

 

Ashton pointed up and said, “Sketchy. That crap is interfering pretty good. We've mostly been relying on sight, hearing… and in some cases, smell. We can get readings close up, but those aren't always accurate, either.”

 

Fullmetal's eyes went wide, and he realized he must have made some sort of noise when Geordi looked over at him and said, “You know Ed, if you decide to go back, no one is going to give you a hard time about it.”

 

The boy shook his head, and said, “I can handle it.”

 

The Sergeant Major looked down at him, and raised a brow. But he never slowed his pace. The boy practically had to run to keep up with him. “There've been some pretty gruesome moments, kid.”

 

Fullmetal's eyes narrowed, and he repeated, “I can handle it.”

 

Ashton stopped at the entrance to a freshly cleared out tunnel, and gestured. “Here we are. We've managed to get in pretty deep, but there's a good solid fall blocking any progress in one branch. It's gunna take a few hours to dig through, and the area's a bit unstable, so it's slow going. But there are people alive in there, and we have a small passage, but no one else can fit.” He looked down at Fullmetal, and said, “That's where you're gunna come in. You have no idea how glad I was to see you, kid. You can get through and check to see how many are in there; and how badly they're injured.”

 

He turned to the rest of the group and said, “Communication's iffy. But you can send a runner, if you have to.”

 

As everyone switched on their lights, Ashton said, “Keep going right, you'll get to the block. And good luck.”

 

As the party entered the cavern, Geordi said, “Nothing like doing it the old fashioned way.”

 

Mustang chuckled low, and said, “Perhaps all this technology isn't as wonderful as it seems.”

 

Geordi said, “You might be right there, Colonel.”

 

Between the mask, and the visor the engineer wore, Fullmetal couldn't really tell whether the man was smiling or not, but from the gentle tone, he had a feeling he was. Then again, he thought. He's always smiling.

 

As they navigated the tunnel, they spoke in low tones about little. The tension was thick though. They were out of communication with the rest of the people on the surface, as well as the ship, and they were walking through a potential death trap.

 

The tunnel itself was a different matter, altogether. It was almost perfectly circular, and the walls were smooth as glass.

 

“Someone used a lot of energy to bore this tunnel out,” Mustang said, as he looked around. “The heat must have been incredible.”

 

“It doesn't look like any of this tunnel has been dug out,” Geordi said, as he stared around him. “It's all natural, and it looks pretty solid.”

 

“Seems a little too perfect to be natural, if you ask me,” Spike said.

 

“Yeah, I know. But there hasn't been any machining done in here.” Geordi placed a gloved hand along the circular tunnel wall, and said, “It's like it's been fused. Almost like glass.”

 

He turned to Spike and added, “I mean we've got the technology and equipment to bore out a tunnel like this, but not on this scale, and not this perfectly. The amount of heat needed to do this… this close to the surface…” Geordi shook his head.

 

“How can you tell that?” Fullmetal asked.

 

Geordi tapped at his visor, and said, “I can see it.”

 

Fullmetal's brows shot up, but he never got a chance to ask about how the man could see that. There was a low rumble, and the ground shook, throwing the team against the walls, and causing them to instinctively cover their heads. Great plumes of reddish dust rolled through the tunnel, blocking any view of any kind for a few minutes.

 

Once the rumbling stopped, and the ground quit shaking, Worf could be heard saying, “Sound off, people.”

 

Everyone announced themselves, and beams of light gathered together in the slowly settling dust. Fortunately, no one was hurt.

 

“Well, so much for the idea that this place is solid,” Spike said.

 

“I believe it is safe to assume that this part of the tunnel ends further in and that area is what is unstable,” Data said.

 

Spike just snorted and shook his head. He continued on through the tunnel, leaving a perplexed android in his wake.

 

They quickly discovered just where the solid part of the tunnel ended, and the less stable part began. And they weren't going past it right away, either.

 

“Looks like the end of the line,” Geordi said, as he shined his light on the fresh rockfall.

 

Data pointed a scanner at it, and said, “It appears to be about 3 meters thick. It will take quite some time to dig through this.”

 

Fullmetal elbowed his way through the group, and laid his hands on the rocks. He pulled off the glove from his automail hand, tapped on the largest boulder in the pile, then grinned behind the breathing mask. “No it won't,” he said as he pulled off the other glove.

 

“Ed, I know you're pretty strong,” Geordi said. “But Data can't even move this pile by himself.”

 

“Data's not an alchemist,” the boy said as he clapped his hands together.

 

“I suggest you gentlemen step back,” Mustang said.

 

Fullmetal didn't look to see if they heeded his warning, but he sensed it. He was more intent on making sure the structure he alchemized would be solid, and sturdy enough to keep it from collapsing again.

 

He slapped his bare palms on the rock, and felt the surge of alchemic energy flow through him as it manifested into the blue light of billions of excited particles shifting and reforming into an opening that was sturdy enough to stay standing through any other possible quakes.

 

“Wow,” Geordi said. He stepped inside the alchemized section and looked closely at it. “That's… damned impressive, Ed,” he said with a laugh.

 

Spike slipped past him, and slapped him on the shoulder. “I told you.”

 

“Yeah, but I didn't believe it,” Geordi said as he followed.

 

Mustang stepped through and cast a glance at the boy, his eyes unreadable. Then he said, “You might want to go easy on the compliments. I doubt that his body could support his head if it were to get much bigger.”

 

Fullmetal glowered. But what no one saw was the fierce grin under the mask.

 

0o0o0

 

Scar found the meditation pond in the arboretum the only restful place on the ship, and spent as much time there as he could. He had only been in the guest suite to sleep on the too-soft bed, and to eat. Of McKenna, he saw little; a ghost passing through the common room after replicating something to eat, or drink. Otherwise, she stayed hidden in her room. The silent arrangement was satisfactory.

 

He managed to avoid other people as much as possible. Their warmth and overt friendliness had quickly begun to grate on his nerves. He didn't want to talk to anyone. He knew they would not be able to find any common ground; any understanding in this utopian paradise. None of them could comprehend the horror of seeing their entire race nearly decimated over something as simple as a philosophical difference.

 

The only soul on this enormous ship that he could even tolerate was the child, Mirrah. After their first encounter, she had been incredibly respectful of his desire for solitude. When they'd encountered each other again, she gave him a soft, querying chirrup and waited for his response. He glanced at her and nodded. Then she sat in the grass next to him, and watched the fish in silence. He considered it amazing restraint in one so young.

 

They'd been sitting together in a comfortable, companionable quiet for a long while, when she chirruped again, as softly as before. He glanced at her, and saw the unspoken question in her intensely blue eyes; saw the antennae quivering expectantly. He also saw something deeper; a shadow that told him she had seen more than a normal child her age. It was because of that shadow, a quality that he'd only seen in the surviving children of Ishbal, that he nodded; inviting her to ask her question.

 

“Papa said you are alone,” she said softly. “You are a warrior with no clan.”

 

He nodded once, silently. He had a feeling that there was more to what she was saying than his understanding of being without a clan, but it didn't seem appropriate to pry.

 

She suddenly gasped, and he saw a deepening blue spread across her cheeks.

 

She ducked her head, and smiled. “I hear Papa coming. I believe I shall be scolded for disturbing you.”

 

He looked up, expecting to see the child's father striding his direction, but there was no sign of him. A moment later, the door to the arboretum opened, and the tall Andorian entered. Scar looked down at the child in wonder, and said, “You're hearing is very sensitive.”

 

For some reason Scar couldn't fathom, she found the comment amusing, and she clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the giggle.

 

Her father arrived at the pond, and looked down at her. His expression was one of mild and patient disapproval; and hers, when she looked up, was of protestation and innocence. But not a single word was exchanged.

 

“I invited her to sit with me,” Scar said.

 

The father glanced over at him and smiled slightly. “Yes, so she told me.”

 

Suddenly, Scar understood more, and his eyes widened. “You're telepaths?”

 

“That is not entirely accurate,” he said, as he settled on the grass next to Mirrah. She climbed into his lap, and he wrapped an affectionate arm around her. “A telepath can see your thoughts. I cannot. I can hear Mirrah, and my mate. That is all.” The Andorian stared off into the distance, and added, “Were we not separated from our clan, and our ancestor's whispers silenced, we would hear those, as well.”

 

“Forgive me,” Scar said.

 

The Andorian faced him again, a sad smile crossing his face. “Do not apologize for your curiosity, stranger. To learn is to grow.” He glanced down at Mirrah, who was purring softly, and beginning to doze in his arms. “Although sometimes, one's curiosity can be tiring,” he said with a soft, affectionate sigh.

 

Scar felt a small smile tug at the corners of his lips. “She is a remarkable child,” he said.

 

“Yes, but it's difficult for her. She's coming to the age when most Andorian children are able to begin to hear the whispers of our ancestors, and she doesn't understand the disquiet her heart feels because of the lack.” The Andorian looked up at Scar, and inclined his head. “That is why she is so intensely curious about you, stranger. She knows you are not just singular, but also alone. Such will be her own fate, if she isn't welcomed into another clan. She wonders how you live with it.”

 

“Will she be able to join another clan?”

 

The Andorian slowly shook his head. “That is something reserved for creating alliances, now. Politics. There is no power or wealth in bringing in a separated Andorian.”

 

“I'm… sorry.”

 

“Such is the path one walks when choosing to be a pacifist in a warrior society.”

 

Scar looked away, and sighed. “This ship seems to be overrun with pacifists,” he said.

 

The low chuckle from the Andorian surprised him, and he looked at him in askance.

 

“On the contrary, stranger. This ship is full of warriors,” the Andorian said. “Do not mistake tolerance for pacifism. The crew of this ship will battle valiantly for the right reasons. And they will gladly die for them, as well. What is missing is the xenophobia.”

 

“Xenophobia?”

 

“Fear of the unknown,” the Andorian said gently. “The reason I took the extreme path of becoming separated from my clan. They feared what is different. I embrace it, and desire to learn from it.”

 

0o0o0

 

Jet cleared the last of the rubble from the stairwell off what remained of the main lobby of the complex, and shined a light down into the inky darkness. Riker had picked up some weak life-signs in that direction, but interference from the contamination was playing hell with the sensor readings. At this point, no one was even certain that anyone was even down there, much less alive.

 

Riker had tapped his combadge and tried to contact the ship a few minutes ago, but all he got was static. He tried to communicate with the other half of their team, and was barely able to speak with them. All they could do now is hope that someone was able to understand they were headed into the bowels of the complex. And pray nothing untoward occurred while they were down there.

 

Jet shined the light over the walls, as they tread carefully down the stairs, and said, “Looks like this area had extra reinforcement.”

 

“I was noticing that, myself,” Riker said, as he hopped over a small pile of fallen rubble.

 

“Makes you wonder what they were researching,” Havoc said. “If they made preparations like this.”

 

Jet reached the bottom of the stairs first, and shined his light around the T-intersection of a long, wide corridor. What he could see was unusually clean considering the circumstances. His light hit a large pair of doors at one end of the corridor, and he came up short. “Would you look at that,” he said.

 

“Did you find something?” Riker asked as he joined Jet. His light hit the double doors, and illuminated the symbol that dominated them even brighter.

 

“What are the chances,” Jet said, “of a company logo showing up in two different universes?”

 

Havoc caught up with them, aimed his light at the door, and then gasped.

 

“Or three?” Riker asked.

 

The symbol was simple. A circle, with two straight arms shooting off of it; one from the top, aiming in a downward direction, the other from the bottom, aiming upward. Within the center was a diagram of smaller, interconnected circles and several solid discs that looked remarkably like a planetary system surrounding a stylized star in the center.