Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction / Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction ❯ Once More, With Pirates ❯ Delirium Trigger ( Chapter 20 )

A/N: Much thanks and promises of chocolate go to Heist for giving me another brilliant song title and stanza for the chapter. This was actually becoming a much longer chapter, what with Ed and Spike indulging in their favorite pastime of bantering back and forth. So I moved that part to the next chapter. Yes, expect another update soon! Very soon. Things are picking up, and coming together, and all Hell is about to break loose.

 

 

 

Delirium Trigger

 

We're now up here alone terror on the intercom can someone save us; Systems malfunction blast it this damn machine over and out captain; Something lurks creeps on the counter top somewhere behind you; Parasitic cyst I can't stand to watch it's coming up and out of your chest - Coheed and Cambria (The Second Stage Turbine Blade)

 

Alphonse couldn't beam down to the planet. As much as he begged and pleaded to go down there and help search for his brother, he wasn't being allowed anywhere near the transporter. He supposed he couldn't really argue Dr Crusher's reasoning; the transporter took a body apart at the atomic level, and put it back together again elsewhere. The possibility of that disrupting the blood seal that kept his soul bonded to the armor was worrisome, and no one wanted to take the risk. But that didn't make it any easier.

 

So he sat wedged into a seat that was barely wide enough to hold that armor, and gripped the armrests tightly while riding down in a shuttle. He heard a soft echo coming from somewhere near his left arm that was nearly drowned out by the nervous rattling of his entire metal body. He glanced down from where the sound originated, and saw Crusher was patting at his arm gently, trying to comfort him. “I know this has to be pretty scary. You'll be alright, though. You're doing fine.”

 

All the boy could do, was moan softly. He certainly didn't think he was going to be alright. He was falling hundreds of miles to certain death in a tiny metal box. At least that was how it felt. He wasn't even going to think of how it might look. He was grateful that his seat was facing backwards, too. This way, he didn't have to see out through the main port.

 

He looked over at Havoc, who was sitting across from him, and facing him. The man's face was pale, his eyes were squeezed tight and he was chewing on the filter of an unlit cigarette. Al amended that, and thought it looked more like he was intent on grinding it into fine fibers with his molars. He feared the Second Lieutenant was in danger of cracking a couple of teeth, in fact.

 

But, Alphonse reasoned as he cast a glance at the rest of the passengers, everyone else seems to be calm. Dr. Crusher said the pilot is one of their best, and never crashed.

 

Okay, I can do this. Just think good thoughts, and think about Brother being alright. In fact, he's gunna be mad because I came down there looking for him. I hope he's really mad. Because if he's mad, then everything is alright. He's alive, and unhurt.

 

He ran that through his mind over and over, making a mantra out of it. Before he knew it, he felt a soft thump, and heard Dr Crusher telling him they'd landed. If Alphonse Elric could breathe a sigh of relief, he would have.

 

0o0o0

 

“And you're certain it was her?” Riker asked.

 

Mustang nodded. “I remember when she was brought into the base. Captured and caught running weapons to the Ishbal rebels. Of course at the time, we thought she was a teenaged boy. I saw her several times after that around the base. More times than I care to count either entering, or leaving Grand's tent.”

 

Mustang sighed, and brushed his bangs from his eyes. He stared down at the table a moment, lost to the memories. “It… it wasn't until we went through the records of a clinic…”

 

“Roy,” Hughes said softly. “Don't. You don't need to do this.”

 

“No, Maes. If I'm going to be part of her defense, I have to tell everything.” He looked up at his friend, and attempted a smirk. “There's more at stake here, than my personal shame.”

 

He faced Picard, forcing a mask of calm where he felt none. “I was ordered… to execute the doctors who ran the clinic. The `official' record was because they were helping the rebels. Treating them. But I'm convinced there was more to it, than that.”

 

He took a deep breath, and squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to block off the memories. “See, she was in the clinic at the time. Had just gotten out of surgery, in fact.”

 

He rubbed the bridge of his nose, and sighed. “Teenaged boys don't have emergency hysterectomies. That's how we found out she wasn't male.”

 

“That sick bastard,” Hughes cursed softly.

 

Riker looked from Mustang to Hughes. “I'm not following.”

 

“The Brigadier General,” Hughes said. “He was a Colonel at the time, and running the show. But there's a reason he's called the Iron Blood Alchemist. His `specialty' is the ability to transmute the iron in his own body into a weapon. Turning parts of himself into metal.”

 

Riker's eyes narrowed as he shot a look of disbelief and disgust from Hughes to Mustang.

 

“Commander, I'll be the first to admit that I am a manipulative, ambitious son of a bitch,” Mustang said. “Basque Grand makes me look like a rank amateur.”

 

“He brainwashed her,” Jet said. Mustang nodded.

 

“Did he?” Riker asked. “Or did she make the choice to work for him?”

 

“Choice,” Mustang said flatly. “She had a choice, I suppose. Work for Grand; indulge him in his little kinks along the way. Or face a firing squad.”

 

0o0o0

 

“gh'Day't” Worf snapped when he heard the digger whine and pop from inside the tunnel. Smoke billowed, and the two crewmen who were operating it, stumbled out, coughing.

 

The work was slow going; they'd barely managed to clear the first of Fullmetal's arches in the rockfall, and now the digger was dead. Add to that, the two people trapped on the other side of that wall were not exactly `high priority' in comparison to the rest of the colony, so only two people could be spared. It made for a very frustrated Klingon, and he started muttering in several languages, the majority of which was Russian with a spattering of Klingonaase. At the stunned stares from the rescuers, Worf took a deep breath and said, “How much further do we have to go?”

 

“I estimate about 20 meters, Sir.”

 

The Klingon growled low, and the two rescuers flinched. He pointed at the smaller of them and said, “You. Go get another digger in here.”

 

“Sir!”

 

As the rescuer dashed off, Worf called out to him, “And find Lieutenant Commander Data.”

 

“Yes Si—“ the rescuer called out as he rounded the bend at a trot. Worf then heard him squeak, and looked up to see him backpedaling quickly.

 

“Is there a problem, Private?” Worf asked.

 

The smaller rescuer didn't respond, he just backed up further, and stumbled. Worf listened, and heard metallic clanking. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and as soon as the animated suit of armor rounded the bend and into his sight, his eyes crinkled.

 

“Alphonse Elric,” he said by way of greeting.

 

The boy bowed politely, and said, “Lieutenant, I came to help find my brother.”

 

0o0o0

 

Beverly Crusher had hit the ground running as soon as she stepped off the shuttle. Triage was swarming with people, and more were flooding in, now that the Enterprise had the maps of all the tunnels in the complex.

 

It didn't take very long for Alphonse and her to ascertain that neither Fullmetal, nor Spike were among the wounded being treated. After all, it was highly doubtful there would be very many short, blonde teenaged boys with a metal arm and leg running around in this small colony. On the other hand, Spike might be easy to miss; but she doubted it. If he was able, he'd be right by the boy. Either way, chances were, if one was found, the other would have been, as well.

 

As soon as they made sure the older Elric wasn't among the wounded, Alphonse was off to help Worf and his team of rescuers in the search. That was all well and good, as far as Crusher was concerned. She knew the boy would be in good hands with Worf, and it would be enabling him to do something, rather than have him in a state of heightened anxiety waiting for news about his brother. He wouldn't be much use in triage, anyway.

 

Most of the injuries had been minor fortunately, but there was the contamination they were all exposed to. For now, the symptoms, where there were symptoms, were being treated. Until they had more information that was the best they could do. It was frustrating, and infuriating that she didn't know yet what the contamination really was. Alphonse said he recognized it, but that wasn't much help for her. Not without knowing the complete chemical compounds. All they had was an account of how something similar on another world affected the people there.

 

Crusher wasn't terribly thrilled with the idea that triage had to be set up so far from the complex. The closer to the center of where the injuries would be; the better. But due to the interference, in order to guarantee the scanners would work properly, they had to be outside the sphere of influence. But it wasted precious minutes for those who were severely injured. She couldn't help but think that a handful of those lost might have had a chance if they had been treated sooner.

 

She silently shut off the diagnostics panel over one more lost soul, and said a silent prayer. The woman had extreme exposure to the contaminated water. In fact, she'd nearly drowned in it. The rescue team that found her had managed to clear her lungs and get her breathing again, but then by the time she'd reached triage, she'd started bleeding out from all orifices. No amount of blood coagulants would help, either. She took the time to note all the information she had, and listed any form of identification on the body for later. One thing she'd come across on several patients, was the old-fashioned dog-tags they seemed to all be wearing. She pulled the dead woman's out from under the drenched tunic, and looked closely. One held all the basic information for identification, and Crusher duly noted it. The other brought her up short. It was just a simple design. A circle with a geometric pattern within it. But the Doctor felt a chill trickle down her spine when she saw it.

 

“Dr. Crusher?”

 

Crusher turned to the young medic. She didn't recognize her, but saw the rank insignia on her collar. Sergeant. Part of the rescue group then, she realized. The girl was incredibly young, and her face was quite pale over the breather. The wideness of the girl's small eyes set off alarm bells.

 

“Doctor,” the girl started again when she had Crusher's attention. “I understand you have a pretty good genetics background.”

 

“I'm no expert, but I know enough to hold a conversation with people who are,” Crusher said. “Why?”

 

The girl took a deep breath, and said, “That's better than what we have right now.” She gestured to the far end of the triage room. “I think you'd better take a look at this.”

 

0o0o0

 

As Deanna Troi rode the turbo lift down with Mustang, she allowed her walls to drop slightly. He'd been quieter than usual when she joined him to question McKenna, and she admitted to a bit of curiosity as to why. She suppressed the urge to smile, when she found out. He was embarrassed. And she was to blame in this case. She quickly put her walls back up; allowing him some privacy.

 

“I believe I owe you an apology, Colonel Mustang,” she said.

 

He glanced at her sideways, and cocked a brow. There was no outward sign of his current discomfort; which was no less than she'd expect from this enigmatic man.

 

She smiled slightly, and continued on. “I should have informed you sooner that I'm an empath.” She turned her full body to him, and inclined her head. “I am sorry. That was… unfair.”

 

He cleared his throat, and she didn't need to let down any walls to know that he was even more embarrassed than before. If the slight pinkish tint that colored his cheeks wasn't enough, the fact that he was studiously avoiding her eyes would cinch it.

 

“Hmmm,” he said as he stared at the lift doors. “Yes, well… I suppose I wasn't exactly subtle, either.”

 

Her smile broadened, and she faced front again.

 

There was another uncomfortable moment of silence, while Mustang managed to get his mask back into place. She watched out of the corner of her eye, and considered that the body language told more than the mask. He'd straightened a little more, and clasped his hands behind his back. Standard military `at-ease', which said he was anything but. He continued staring straight ahead at an invisible spot just over the top of the doors, and she couldn't hold back the thought that he really was quite attractive. Especially when he was fighting so hard for control.

 

She caught one dark eye all but hidden under a heavy lid and thick lashes sliding over to look her way. Again, there was a slight coloring on his cheeks when he realized she was watching him as well, and his eye darted back to the front of the lift again.

 

Then he sighed softly, and closed his eyes. His posture almost seemed to sag in defeat, as he dropped his head and covered his eyes with an elegant hand. “You must think I'm an incredible letch.”

 

Deanna attempted to cover a small laugh that threatened to escape with a cough, and it was her turn to blush. “On the contrary. I'm flattered.”

 

It was a blessed relief for both of them when the lift reached its destination, and opened up into a wide corridor at that moment. She allowed her walls to drop completely as she stepped out first, and took a little bit of satisfaction that the man was left with a mixture of delight, amusement and more than a little confusion washing over him.

 

He quickly recovered, and caught up with her in just a few long strides. His mask was back in place, but she could feel he was a little more at ease, now.

 

“You understand why Mr. Black didn't join us?” he asked.

 

“Of course. He considers McKenna responsible for the crashing of his ship on your world; and takes it quite personally.”

 

“With all due respect to the man,” Mustang said. “He is doing his best. He's willing to set his personal feelings aside, but it takes a lot of effort. McKenna's actions, while indirect, nearly killed his partner and stranded them on a world they don't belong.”

 

They arrived at McKenna's quarters, and stopped. There was a security guard by the door, meaning Scar was also inside. The Colonel sighed softly and raised a brow. “This should prove interesting.”

 

Deanna triggered the chime, but there was no response. She tried again, but there was still silence from the other side. She allowed her wall to drop a little and felt apprehension. “Something's wrong,” she said, and nodded at the Security officer.

 

“Computer, override privacy lock,” the officer said.

 

“Acknowledged,” the computer replied, and the door slid open with a soft whoosh, and a startling scene.

 

All Deanna saw, before Mustang barreled past her and charged toward Scar, was the large Ishballan knelt over McKenna, who appeared to be unconscious on the floor; his hand at her throat.

 

Hot on the Colonel's heels, was the Security officer, pulling out a phaser. “Move away from her, Scar,” he ordered as he took aim.

 

“Stand down,” Deanna demanded; surprising even herself with the sheer amount of command she was able to muster. Both officers stopped in their tracks, and spun on her, stunned.

 

Scar had blatantly ignored the ruckus, as he cradled McKenna and came to his feet. His eyes were only for Deanna, as he headed toward the door. As far as Scar was concerned, no one else was there. “She's gravely ill,” was all he said, and left.

 

The Security officer reholstered his phaser, and followed the Ishballan. “I'll make sure they get to sick bay, Sir,” he said to Deanna as he left.

 

When she turned back to Mustang, she was greeted with a fairly neutral expression; but the slightly twitching eye gave him away. An instant later, his face softened, and he shook his head with a genuine smile. “I seem to be batting a thousand today, don't I?”

 

She returned his smile, and tapped her com-badge. “Troi to sick bay.”

 

“Sick bay. Ensign Raimy here.”

 

“Ensign, a Brianne McKenna is being brought down there. Please notify myself and Colonel Mustang when she regains consciousness. We'll be in Ten Forward.”

 

“Yes, Sir,” the Ensign said.

 

Mustang cocked a brow as she came up beside him, and took his arm. “Ten Forward?” he asked.

 

“I don't know about you, but I haven't had lunch yet,” she said, as she led him off.