Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction / Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction ❯ Once More, With Pirates ❯ Broken Arrow ( Chapter 19 )

A/N: Apologies for taking so long getting this chapter out. You, my dear readers, are not the only ones who were unhappy about that. Seems Spike and Fullmetal decided to invade my dreams and complain about being left in limbo for almost 2 weeks. I blame the new job. The cruelty of being forced to come in at 6:30 in the morning for training. Night Owls are not morning people. VERY not morning people. And to think I have 4 more weeks of this torture before I can bid for a night shift position. UGH!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Broken Arrow

 

I want to come when you call; I'll get to you if I have to crawl; They can't hold me with these iron walls; We've got mountains to climb. Who else is gonna bring you A broken arrow; Who else is gonna bring you A bottle of rain; There he goes, moving across the water; There he goes turning my whole world around -- The Band (The Singles)

 

 

 

“Perhaps you could elaborate further, Lieutenant Colonel?” Picard asked. “What precisely is an alchemic array?”

 

He was in the briefing room with Hughes, Havoc, Jet and Riker, who had beamed back aboard immediately after transferring the information they'd gleaned from the complex's computers. Riker had decided the information was serious enough, that the team had dispensed with changing out of the pressure suits, and reported immediately to the Captain. And from the demeanor of the four men on the other end of the table, Picard had to assume that this wasn't overreaction.

 

The report so far was disturbing, and they didn't yet have all the information. The object they found in the lower level of the complex appeared to be a combination of nano technology, and living tissue. But they didn't yet know what it was being used for. The implications were unnerving.

 

“Captain, I can't say I understand that much about it,” Hughes said. “The transmutation circles that Alchemists use generally have geometric symbols within them for simpler arrays, mathematical formulae for the more complex.” He rubbed the back of his neck, and started pacing. “For most of the State Alchemists, the array they generally use is also personal.”

 

“Like the design on Colonel Mustang's gloves,” Picard said. “I noticed that Alphonse used a different geometric design when he repaired Dr Crusher's diagnostic equipment.”

 

“Those are personal arrays, yes. The array is where the power comes from.” Hughes leaned back against the frame of the ports and crossed his arms. “The design in the center tells the power what to do, to put it in the most simplistic terms.”

 

He stared down a moment. “Some of the arrays are for more specific alchemy.” When he looked up at Picard, his green eyes were hard. “Especially when it involves human transmutation.” He gestured at the schematic glowing in the middle of the table.

 

The circle and the hexagon within it were glowing a soft yellow, but the lowest level was a bright, vivid red. The design looked to Picard like an ancient, stylized phoenix about to be reborn from the flames which had engulfed it. “Are you suggesting that this… array is for some kind of genetic manipulation?”

 

“I'm suggesting that it's much worse than that, Captain.”

 

“That array is for creating a Philosopher's Stone,” Mustang said from the open doorway.

 

Hughes looked up and scowled. “Roy, you should still be in sick bay.”

 

Mustang looked pale and weak, but he was still able to give Hughes a smirk as he came the rest of the way in, and nodded at Picard. “Captain, perhaps Alphonse and I could shed more light on the subject.”

 

“By all means,” Picard said, and gestured to a seat. “Please sit down, Colonel. Where is Alphonse?”

 

Mustang stiffly lowered himself into the first seat he came to, and grimaced. Once settled, a look of relief flit across his face, and then the cool exterior was back in place. He smiled slightly, and said, “He's waiting just outside the door, Captain. Unlike his older brother, he tends to respect authority, and follow orders.”

 

Picard waved Al in, and the armor entered hesitantly. Once he was close enough to see the array the soul lights where his eyes would be went wide, and he gasped.

 

“You recognize this symbol, Alphonse?” Picard asked.

 

“Yes, Sir,” he said hesitantly. He glanced nervously at Mustang, then Hughes.

 

“Go ahead, Alphonse,” Hughes said. “They need to know.”

 

The boy took a deep, shuddering breath and began to tell his story. Picard listened intently, not just to the words, but also to the tone of the child's voice. He'd already gotten the preliminary report from Dr. Crusher about the red water. He knew that Spiegel and the older Elric were missing; the probability that one or both of them being dead was high. Alphonse's voice was steady, but the Captain could tell it was with extreme effort on his part.

 

Picard would be the first to admit he was uncomfortable around children. He just didn't know how to relate to them. But he was not unfeeling about them. Like any civilized adult, he still had the strong instinct to protect those who were younger, and more vulnerable. The details of how these boys ended up the way they were… one missing two limbs, the other a soul bound to a suit of armor… was `need-to-know'. He knew enough. The bare minimum in this case. What he'd learned so far about their culture did a fair job of filling in some of the blanks. That experience alone, seemed nightmarish. Unfortunately, Picard was finding out, it was just the beginning of a journey that was filled with nightmares.

 

The Fifth Laboratory was, in Picard's estimation, a torture chamber of genetic experimentation taken to perverse levels. And all to create a mythical object of immense power for military applications.

 

When Alphonse finished, the War Room was filled with a heavy silence. Riker's face was carefully neutral, but to one who knew him well, there was a hint of the horror he felt burning behind his eyes. A horror made all the worse, because children were thrust into this situation.

 

Picard glanced over at Mustang, and caught the Colonel's level gaze. He was carefully refusing to make a judgment against the man, but he was the boys' commanding officer. He was responsible for putting them in danger. The civilized adult in him wanted to rail against the obvious abuse of power and manipulation against them. But the rational Captain put the brakes on that. He wanted to know more.

 

But that was for later, if at all. Right now, the problem they faced was more immediate, and Alphonse's report was the best break they've had so far.

 

Picard dismissed Alphonse, and caught a subtle gesture from Mustang. Havoc got to his feet, clapped Al on the shoulder, and said, “C'mon Chief, let's go for a walk.”

 

There was a long moment of silence after the door closed on them. Jet leaned back in his seat with his arms crossed, and a dark scowl settled on his face. “So McKenna's had a hand in this too.”

 

“I admit the evidence against her is mounting,” Mustang said. “However, it is still circumstantial. I don't believe any `hand' she's had in this was direct, nor deliberate.”

 

Riker leaned forward on the table and rubbed the back of his neck. “Whether it was direct or indirect isn't going to matter to Q, though. If she's not perfectly innocent, she's guilty.”

 

Jet raised a brow at Riker, and said, “And your point?”

 

“Need I remind you that Q has assigned us certain… duties,” Mustang said. “And what the stakes are, if we fail to perform them to the best of our abilities?”

 

“Maybe it's time to compare notes?” Hughes suggested.

 

“Agreed,” Picard said.

 

0o0o0

 

Sweat poured into Spike's eyes and the already stressed muscles in his arms were aflame as he thrust rhythmically on Fullmetal's abdomen. Gouts of red water poured out of his mouth, but more kept coming with each thrust. He wondered just how much water the lungs of someone that small could actually hold.

 

Around him, the swirling vortex of uncontrolled alchemy screamed, and as long as it did, Spike figured the boy was still closer to life than death. But if that vortex stops suddenly, and he isn't breathing… Spike put a screeching halt to the thought quickly.

 

Once, he'd had to break rhythm to dodge a morphing automail arm; unfortunately, he didn't duck quickly enough, and ended up with a deep slash on his cheek that didn't want to stop bleeding. The blood dripped down over his hands as they continued to thrust, and caused the surface to be slicker than it already was. His hands would slip, and the thrust would go wild. Spike prayed that he didn't crack any ribs in the process.

 

The last of the water was finally expelled from Fullmetal's lungs, but he still wasn't breathing. Spike felt for a pulse, and there was none. “Dammit, Ed. You wouldn't make this easy, would you?” he said as he climbed off the boy's thighs, and positioned himself to start CPR.

 

Two breaths, listen. Nothing. Spike opened up the front of Fullmetal's pressure suit, and found the spot he needed to push. Fifteen thrusts, two more breaths, listen, check pulse. Nothing. Again. Still nothing.

 

The stress on his body was beginning to scream at him, and he fought the blackness that kept creeping in at the edge of his vision away. His vision became tunneled; all he saw was the lax expression on the boy's face. The grimace was gone and his eyes were closed now, but Spike wasn't sure if that was good, or bad.

 

Fifteen thrusts, two breaths, listen, check pulse.

 

Nothing.

 

“Don't give up on me now, Ed,” he said as he thrust on the boy's chest again. “I've still gotta kick your ass for puking in my ship. You owe me that much.” Two breaths, listen, check pulse.

 

Nothing.

 

“Fuck. You can't die, you arrogant little asshole!” Spike protested in time with the thrusting. “You have to come back and warn me about this shit.” He lost count. Two breaths, listen, check pulse.

 

Nothing.

Sweat stung his eyes and blurred his vision. His throat grew tight, as he thrust again, and said, “Don't do this to me, dammit! And don't you dare do this to your brother.”

 

Two breaths, listen, check pulse.

 

A thrill of hope sung through Spike. There, just one tiny throb at the boy's throat. He waited, not even daring to breathe. Two more throbs, a little stronger. “C'mon, Ed. Your brother needs you.”

 

The pulse returned in a regular rhythm, and then Fullmetal gasped and coughed. Spike gently rolled him to his side in case there was still more water in the boy's lungs and stomach. He was rewarded with the sound of the boy vomiting, and he held his head up off the floor of the basin until the spasms in his abdomen stopped.

 

It was suddenly quiet, and as Spike helped Fullmetal sit up, he saw the vortex had just… disappeared. But on its heels came rain. All the red water that had been caught up in the alchemic cyclone was now pouring down on them and the basin was beginning to fill again.

 

“Fuck!” Spike said, as he struggled to his feet, and attempted to lift a semi-conscious Fullmetal. His arms gave out, his knees buckled, and he dropped the boy with a pained cry.

 

Fullmetal's eyes fluttered, as Spike supported him, and slapped at his face. “Wake up Pipsqueak.”

 

The boy blinked at him in confusion, and held out his flesh hand to catch some of the rain. Red water pooled in his cupped palm, but didn't react. “It's inert,” he mumbled groggily.

 

“Maybe, but there's a lot of it,” Spike said, and tried to get back on his feet. “We need to figure out how to get the hell out of this thing before we both drown. And I don't think you can tread water, can you?”

 

Fullmetal scowled and looked down. The water had already reached over his hips, and was climbing rapidly. He looked around the reservoir. “How..?”

 

“Your guess is as good as mine, kid. There aren't any stairs or anything in this hole,” Spike said. He helped the boy up to his feet, and they both nearly tumbled back down again, but somehow managed to support each other.

 

Fullmetal broke free of the support, and staggered to the closest side. He laid his palms and forehead on the sheer face of the basin, and just stayed there a moment, panting. Spike hobbled after him, and as soon as he reached the boy's side, he leaned his back against the wall. He slid down with a groan. After a few labored breaths, he looked at the boy from the corner of his eye and asked, “What are you planning?”

 

“Getting us out of here,” Fullmetal said, as he clapped weakly.

 

“You got the energy for that?”

 

“You got a better idea?”

 

Spike laughed once, then groaned again. Even that one sound was excruciating.

 

Fullmetal's hands slapped against the side of the reservoir, and weak light spread up, creating a messy and uneven set of steps in its wake. The two of them crawled up until they were close enough to just collapse at the edge. It didn't matter anymore if their feet stayed in the water.

 

As they lay on their stomachs, panting and staring at each other, Spike found enough energy to smirk, and say, “That has to be the shittiest alchemy I've ever seen you do.”

 

Gold eyes sparked under the soaked bangs plastered to Fullmetal's face, and a small smile tugged at his lips. He slid his automail hand into view and lifted it just enough to bend all but one finger.