Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction / Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction ❯ Once More, With Pirates ❯ Hear Me Out ( Chapter 35 )

 

A/N: There's no “Poor Havoc” in this chapter. The man is a real gentleman, in fact. Thanks to Heist (again!!!!) for the song suggestion. She's my main supplier, yanno. And if you're wondering why this chapter was written, since it just seems to be for fun, and not really part of the plot. Guess again. Er… well, you know I'm not going to tell you anything that'll spoil it.

 

 

Hear Me Out

 

I join the queue on your answerphone; And all I am - is holding breath; Just pick up I know you're there; Can't you hear - I'm not myself. Oh go ahead and lie to me; You could say anything; Small talk will be - just fine; Your voice is everything; We owe it to love; And it all depends on you - Frou Frou (Details)

 

Havoc trudged through the red dust to the command center tents. He was bone-tired and was certain he was never going to know what warm was again. The temperature controls on his pressure suit had started failing hours ago, but he hadn't noticed at first. The gradual loss of heat was slow enough that he adjusted to it. It helped that he'd been physically active.

 

Unfortunately, all that activity had proved fruitless. He and the rest of SaR had been chasing ghosts. They'd come to a place where the skittish sensors would pick up a hint of life and clear the way, only to discover there wasn't even a dead body waiting for them. They'd resorted to old fashioned techniques. Back home that usually meant specially trained dogs. Here, that meant races of people who had a better sense of smell, hearing, or empathic talents.

 

And yet, they were still chasing ghosts.

 

He'd heard all the talk. The reasons the sensors were skittish was due to the contamination in the air. The `biological' talent complained that locating people by smell or other means was being interfered with much the same way. Havoc didn't have a sensitive nose. Too many years of smoking did that. But even if he never smoked, he was still limited by the simple fact that he was human.

 

Jean Havoc was familiar with the smell of death, though. And the smell was heavy around the disaster area. He didn't need a sensitive nose to notice it. A fact that he was quite grateful for.

 

The first time he'd beamed down to the surface, he was assaulted by a rancid chemical smell in the air. When he rode down in the shuttle with Alphonse, he'd noticed that the smell had changed some, but not much different than before.

 

This time, though… this time was different. It smelled of sickness and rot, and it nauseated him until he got the breather sealed on his face. It didn't filter out all of the smell, but it damped it down to something that would keep him from keeling over. He had no idea how the people on the SaR teams who depended on their sense of smell could handle it. He couldn't even begin to imagine what all this was doing to the others.

 

He shivered as he stepped into the heated tent, and was once more stunned at the variety of people here. The range of shape, size, skin colour, even temperament and abilities left him awestruck. And all of them were working together with one goal in mind.

 

And we can't even get along with people no different from us but for a philosophy and red eyes, he thought as he settled in a spot near a heat source. When he'd gotten his first good look at the Bebop, he was afraid; but Spike and Jet were human, so his natural curiosity was stronger. When he saw what Q was capable of, he was downright terrified. But when he got his first good look at Worf and Data, something primitive rose up in his brain. A feeling much deeper… more primal than just fear of the unknown. It was only by sheer force of will and an absolute trust in Mustang that kept him from shooting either of them on the spot. He knew the Colonel must have been just as terrified; but he also knew the man hadn't risen through the ranks as quickly as he did by acting on instinct. He had the ability to weigh options and calculate on the fly and Havoc had seen him come out on top more times than not. He was willing to follow Mustang's lead in any situation. He was more than a little grateful he followed it in this one.

 

Now if I could just erase that one moment when I engaged my mouth, and disengaged my brain, he thought with a wince. He'd apologized to Marie, but that didn't take the words back.

 

A cup of steaming, pleasant-smelling liquid was shoved into his face and he grasped it out of instinct before looking up to see who was giving it to him. He looked down at the cup a moment, relishing the heat and the smell; and heard a lilting voice that was growing very familiar. “It's not poison, if that's what you're worried about.”

 

He snorted and looked over as Marie sat down next to him. “Thanks,” he said. He took a sip, and his brows shot up. It tasted even better than it smelled. Damned if he knew what it was, but he could definitely find himself drinking it more often. It had a rich, thick taste that wasn't overly sweet, and made him think of a cross between cocoa and coffee, but without the bitterness of the latter. “This is good.”

 

“A Vulcan tea,” she said. “Of a sort. It's some mixture of herbs and vegetables indigenous to that world, anyway.” She shrugged as she sipped at her own drink. “Anyhow, it's guaranteed to restore your energy.”

 

He looked down at the cup, and raised a brow. He'd finally managed to wrangle the whole story about the gagh out of Guinan, and had decided right then and there to not eat everything placed in front of him as long as he was in this universe. Of course, he hadn't thought about that when the tempting cup was waved under his nose. “Is it safe for human consumption?”

 

Marie just laughed. Havoc thought he'd like to hear that sound more often.

 

“Well, I have good news and bad news,” she said after a moment.

 

He waited, silently encouraging her to continue.

 

“The good news is we don't have any injured to take up to the ship this trip.”

 

“And the bad news?”

 

She sighed and bit her lip. “Because of that energy wave effecting the contamination in the air here… No one is beaming up.”

 

Havoc's brows shot up. “So we're stuck here?”

 

Once more, she laughed. “Nope. We're taking the shuttle.”

 

Havoc scowled, and turned his attention back to his cup. “I think I'd rather be stuck here,” he grumbled.

 

“Hmm. Well you'd just be getting under-foot if you stayed.”

 

He was almost hurt at that. “Not much help, huh?”

 

“Not that. Reduction in personnel. Just the SaR team will be staying on the surface. There's not enough to do for all the volunteers now.” She nudged him, and he looked at her. “The Enterprise crew, your people; you all made our job a lot easier. I don't think we've ever had that much help before.”

 

Havoc gave her a sad, crooked smile. “My people? We spent most of the time either freaking out, damn near getting killed, or—“ He looked down, feeling his face get hot. “--making asses out of ourselves.”

 

“Let's not forget dragging me into some confrontation with a petulant God.”

 

His head snapped up and he faced her, shocked.

 

Marie just smiled at him, and shook her head. “Well, I figure if you're going to beat yourself up, you may as well go all out.”

 

He blushed in earnest, and chuckled. “Touché. So, what about…” He jerked his head back in the direction of the complex.

 

“The giant donut? There's a cordon around the area. No one in until an Enterprise Away-Team investigates. And the area has to be secured first.” She drained her cup, and got to her feet. “We just clean up the disaster and find people. We don't ask what caused it. We leave that to the experts.”

 

A Sergeant popped his head into the tent and said, “Havoc, Sioux, you're up!”

 

A few minutes later, Havoc was strapping himself in. He silently groused over the fact that this was apparently one of the smaller shuttles, and all the seats faced front with absolutely no interruption of view out of the main port. He heard the low whine of the shuttles engines starting up, and took a look around. “No one else is coming?” he asked.

 

It was just Marie, the pilot, and himself. The pilot glanced over his shoulder and gave Havoc a toothy grin that gave him a slight start. The young man certainly looked like a normal human, but the teeth were fangy, and the eyes had a feline-like slit to the pupils. Wonder if I'll ever get used to that kinda thing, Havoc thought.

 

“You're the last vol,” the pilot said. He reached over and offered his left hand. “Ensign Arruna,” he said. “Been looking for a chance to meet one of you people, Second Lieutenant.”

 

Havoc arched a brow, and took the offered greeting. “One of…?”

 

“Yeah. You guys from the alternate universes.” He turned back to the control panel, and tapped a few lighted spots. “Man! The idea that your history branched and alchemy became a science just kicks my ass.”

 

“Clearance for launch in 30 seconds,” the computer said.

 

Arruna faced Havoc again and continued, “So, when did it branch? The burning of the libraries at Alexandria? The fall of the Roman Empire?”

 

“Uh…”

 

“Clearance granted,” the computer said, and Arruna tapped the controls again. The shuttle rose smoothly.

 

Arruna chuckled, and shook his head. “Sorry about that. I'm actually an historian. I volunteered for shuttle duty, though.”

 

Havoc's eyes went wide, and he felt the blood drain from his face. The first thing that went through his mind before it froze up was that he desperately wanted off this shuttle, and right now. Except for one problem… they were already too far up.

 

Arruna read the look of abject terror on Havoc's face, and chuckled again. “Don't sweat it, Second Lieutenant. I'm a certified pilot. I've flown hundreds of hours.” He made a slight adjustment, and Havoc felt himself relax a little. When Arruna faced him again, there was a bit of mischief sparking in his eyes. “Well, in simulation, anyway.”

 

Suddenly, the idea of falling thousands of feet to a messy death didn't seem like such a bad alternative to Jean Havoc.

 

“Hey, Arruna,” Marie said, “Can we take the scenic route?”

 

Havoc wanted to scream NO, but his mouth refused to cooperate.

 

“Sorry, Sioux,” he said. “Commander Riker would have my hide for wasting the fuel.”

 

Havoc let out a relieved breath.

 

“C'mon, Arruna,” Marie pleaded. “I've always wanted to see the flagship of the Federation up close.” She gave the pilot a smile that could melt even a heart of stone. At least Havoc felt his starting to melt.

 

Arruna was impervious to it, and he shook his head. “No can do.”

 

Marie sniffed at him and arched a brow. “Even if I credit a pack of cigarettes?”

 

The pilot snorted. “I can replicate smokes anytime, Sioux. Get me a real one, and we'll talk.”

 

Havoc watched Marie's face fall as she settled back in her seat. She sighed and said, “I suppose that just a glimpse of the ass end will have to do, then.”

 

“I thought there was a no smoking policy on the ship,” Havoc said.

 

“For the real thing? Yeah. Actual tobacco is contraband,” Arruna said. “Sometimes we'll replicate cigarettes though. They don't contaminate the air, they're not addictive. As long as we keep it to our private quarters, it's okay.”

 

Havoc reached inside the pressure suit, and glanced down at the remainder of the pack he had. Three cigarettes and no telling when they'd be somewhere he could get more of the real thing. Then he glanced back up at Marie, and sighed. Hell, I spend more time just chewing on the damn filters as it is, he thought, and slid a cigarette out of the pack.

 

He tossed it onto the control panel in front of Arruna. “That's the real thing,” he said.

 

The pilot's brows flew up, and he gave Havoc a startled look. “I thought you wanted to get off this shuttle as fast as possible.”

 

He gave the pilot a lopsided grin, and said, “The lady wants to take the scenic route.”

 

0o0o0

 

 

“Level Two complete,” the computer said, and everyone relaxed.

 

Edward dropped his spear on the rusted platform he was on and sagged against the railing with his arms dangling loosely over the side. The boy was covered head to toe in muck, and the only thing that could be recognizable as Edward Elric, were the big gold eyes and the tired, but triumphant grin. Even the long, blonde braid had come loose and his hair hung heavy around his face with brownish-green muck.

 

Never before had Riker seen someone take such joy at getting so filthy. But the times he was able to look around, he saw the boy dispatching attackers with a determined, devil-may-care grin and a grace of motion that rivaled some of the best dancers in the galaxy. It also amazed him that someone with two heavy, metal prosthetics could move so swiftly.

 

“I'm embarrassed to admit that I'm somewhat out of practice,” Mustang said, as he leaned against the wall of the platform and slid down to the ground. He was nearly as covered in muck as Edward, but even disheveled, mucky, and panting; the man could still keep an air of dignity around him.

 

The Colonel pressed on his shoulder, and rotated it with a wince. “I'm definitely going to feel this in a couple of hours.”

 

Riker sunk down on a large, flat rock and watched as Edward reached up to squeegee the worst of the sticky, sloppy mud from his hair. He kept his face carefully neutral as he saw the mischief grow in the boy's grin.

 

“That's because you depend on those gloves of yours too much,” he said as he dangled a hand back down, and shook the excess off his fingers… right over Mustang's head. “What're you gunna do if it's raining, and you don't have Lieutenant Hawkeye to back your ass up, Colonel Useless?” A glob of mud hit Mustang in the nose, and he looked up with a half-serious glower. Edward only snickered.

 

Riker glanced over to the only people that remained standing. Worf and Alphonse were apart from the rest of them, talking quietly. Worf was showing the boy some of the finer points of wielding a betleH, and Al was doing a damn good job of picking it up. Those two were probably the least messy of the entire group. Riker figured that the mud and slime just sort of slid off the armor, but he had no idea how Worf had escaped the worst of it.

 

“Perhaps I should introduce myself to your sensei then,” Mustang said.

 

For some reason, Edward found the very idea uproariously funny. To the point he was laughing so hard he had to sit down.

 

Riker looked at Mustang curiously. Mustang cocked a brow, and shrugged.

 

“We could always program her into the holosimulation,” Riker suggested.

 

Edward stopped laughing as suddenly as if someone had pulled his plug. His eyes went wide and he stared at Riker in stunned silence. Off to the side, Alphonse froze and stared as well.

 

“She'll kill us!” they both screamed in unison.

 

Riker was stunned. He'd seen both of those boys afraid, and with good reason. He had never seen them this abjectly terrified. In the short time he's known them, they'd faced down Worf, Q and holodeck monsters bent on pounding them into a pulp; even their own fears and beliefs. They've both died, and come back to life. And yet, one human woman… a woman who was supposedly their teacher… rendered both of them into a quivering mass of terrified jelly.

 

“That must be some sensei,” Riker said.

 

“You have no idea,” Edward said.

 

“There goes that idea,” Mustang said with a smirk. “Too bad I can't look back and see my own mistakes, though.” He winced as he got to his feet. “Or where I acquired most of these bruises.”

 

Riker chuckled and stood up. “Actually, you can.”

 

Three sets of eyes just stared.