II. Telealchemic Portation
From The Office of the Fuhrer
Amestris Central [00000A1]
[Most Secret]
[April 3rd], [1917]
Delivered [by Hand] to State Alchemist (Ret'd) [Edward Elric], [Fullmetal]
Ed,
I know I'd promised that I'd leave you in peace, but we've got a bit of a problem. What do you mean, too informal? Riza, please. Wait, did you write that down? No! Delete that! Okay? Okay. The Ministry of Transportation's Experimental Division is making some peculiar budget claims. I know you're no auditor, but we need you to check out why exactly they want enough military-grade steel to build a steam engine, and the services of twelve State Alchemists. I don't think they're a threat, but we're too busy here to do a detailed investigation, and you're our most knowledgeable alchemist. I'm attaching a copy of their budget request, and a brief summary of their divisional manifest. To be honest, we don't really know what they're up to. They really fell through the cracks during the war. I hope Fuery gets this to you on time. Nonetheless, there's no rush.
Good luck,
-Mustang
Out of the corner of his eye, Al saw Ed almost run into a lamp post. Was he still going on about Winry? He rolled his eyes, sighing disappointedly. Honestly. Those two. Someone had mentioned the L-word at some point and now they were acting like they'd die if they weren't living in the same home. And that way she'd said goodbye... Al considered Winry a member of the family, but come on, now. There was such thing as basic human decency.
They were in one of the industrial districts in the west end of the city, and though the streets were busy, they lacked the same frenetic energy of the downtown residential districts. Heavy tricks chugged past the high brick walls of the factories, and the sky was dominated by dozens of towering smoke stacks. Al paused for a moment, glancing between the street signs and the thin sheaf of paper he held.
"It should be just around this corner, Brother."
They turned the corner, only to see... very little. 35 East Industrial Plaza was a boxy brick building in a neighbourhood full of boxy brick buildings. As they crossed the street, Ed squinted at the badly weathered government plaque that stood next to the door.
"This is the Ministry, all right. But it doesn't look like anyone's home."
"Maybe we should ring the bell?"
"Oh. Right."
Ed did so, and a distant bell clanged fitfully. There was no sign of movement behind the dusty frosted-glass doors.
"So who are we looking for, again?"
Al glanced at the papers, which had obviously spent too much time buried on someone's desk. There were prominent mug stains on several of the earlier pages.
"A man by the name of Director Henry von Junker. He's supposed to be the division head."
They both started, hearing footsteps behind the door. Ed straightened, readjusting his Alchemists's coat. Al settled with adjusting his tie. Ed just couldn't let go of the red coat. The lock on the door clicked, and an old man peered out.
"Hello, yes?"
"We're Edward and Alphonse Elric, from-"
"Oh, the boys from Central!", he beamed. "Please, come in. And do watch your step."
He pulled the door fully open, wincing as it scraped on its hinges, and waved the Elrics inside. They came into a dusty anteroom, its shelves and cabinets overflowing with papers and thick technical manuals. Al couldn't help noticing that they still used gas lights; a rarity for Central. Despite the warm glow of the lights, the room itself was barely warmer than the outside.
"Oh, but where are my manners? Henry von Junker, at your service."
He had a slight northern accent, and as Al clasped von Junker's hand he realized that his grip was surprisingly strong. The old man was slightly built, with a large bushy beard and a bad comb-over. He squinted over thick spectacles, their lenses flecked with what Al hoped was machine oil. He wore a somewhat shabby business suit, with a thick, scarred leather apron over top.
"I must apologise for the mess. We only got the Fuhrer's letter a few days ago, and we haven't had much time to prepare. May I take your coats?"
"No, thank you, Director von Junker," Ed said, all business. "We'd like to make this as efficient as possible. Why the peculiar budget claims?"
Von Junker sighed, shuffling over to a set of reinforced double doors on the far side of the room.
"Straight to the point, aren't you, Herr Elric? I had heard that the Fullmetal Alchemist was a real professional, and it seems my sources were correct."
They hurried after him. The old man was sprightlier than he looked, bypassing the low piles of garbage and papers that littered the room.
"Sources?"
The old man shrugged.
"Bureaucratic grapevine. I'd heard you were closely involved with the overthrow of the previous Fuhrer. Of course, politics is none of my concern, but it's nice to hear that the young people are making a name for themselves, no?"
Al felt it was time to break in.
"I'm sorry, Director von Junker, but we'd really like to know about what you're working on."
"Of course, of course. Please follow me to the workshop."
He pushed open the double doors, and Ed and Al both gasped at what they saw before them.
To call the workshop big would be an understatement. Huge was more accurate. It wasn't quite immense, but it was certainly very, very big. Row upon row of arc lamps illuminated a hall that was well over two city blocks long, and at least one wide. From the look of the walls, they had taken several adjacent blocks of warehouses and removed most of the connecting walls, leaving a cavernous space broken only by towering iron girders. Spread across its distance were dozens of large work tables, covered with mechanical detritus. Several full-sized train tracks ran the length of one side of the hall, while the other side appeared to have been cleared, its wall covered in scaffolding. Several bulky objects were shrouded with tarpaulins. A few dozen old men, clad in similar clothing to von Junker, filled out the image of a gigantic mad scientist's laboratory.
"I believe what you're looking for is over on the right wall. Please, come with me."
They walked slowly past row after row of mechanical gewgaws, many of them covered in thick layers of dust and the detritus of time. Whoever the Experimental Division were, they'd been here for a long, long time. Ed, being Ed, was instantly distracted.
"What have you been working on that's so impor- the hell is that?"
A gigantic bulbous egg of canvas hung from the ceiling, its thin skin criss-crossed with narrow metal ribbing. Von Junker adjusted his spectacles, obviously pleased with the attention.
"I see you've noticed our aerostat. It's a flying machine."
Ed, never one for subtlety, gawped.
"What, like the ones you see at the moving pictures? I thought man-powered flight was impossible?"
"It's not by any means impossible. My division, at this very moment, has the capability to transport a ton of cargo by air across this country in a week, at most. All we need is money, and the alchemists to provide the helium."
Al nodded, slowly. He thought he understood the physics. It was a deceptively simple idea. These old men were more clever than they appeared.
"I get it. You fill a bag with a gas that's lighter than air and buoyancy does the rest. But what about propulsion? Wouldn't it just drift?"
"Not if you attach a series of powerful motors to the gas bag."
Von Junker gestured to a work table bearing the weight of four large windmill-like fans.
"It's really just a matter of connecting industrial-strength fans with enough strength that they won't tear the gasbag to pieces. But we must move on. This is not the main attraction. Please, let us keep moving, hmm?"
Next they passed what looked to be an abstract skeletal model of a bird.
"This is our aerofoil. If the aerostat is suitable for heavy lifting, then this design is suitable for speed."
Al cocked an eyebrow. He'd connected the aerostat with the fire lanterns he'd sometimes made as a small child- the lifting-gas concept was the same. But this...?
"How does a thin sheet of metal fly, exactly?"
"Have you ever flown a kite? A thin sheet of taut fabric can fly. This is just the same principle, but on a larger scale. A fan or rocket drives air over the leading edge of the foil, which creates a pressure differential between the top and bottom of the craft, driving it upwards. Bending the foil along these seams allows you to change the direction of the lifting force, and so steer. The only problem we've run into on this one is weight; we can't get engines strong enough to provide the thrust we need. But theoretically it's quite sound."
Ed beamed.
"Incredible, Mr. Von Junker. Simply incredible."
The old man seemed to have hit his stride, and his infection enthusiasm carried the Elrics along. Al couldn't help but grin as the frail old man was transformed into a creature of childlike wonder, his eyes bright with excitement.
"After we'd dismissed the aerofoil, we came upon another idea! Though it is not the greatest of our works, I present to you... the aeroalchemic engine!"
He gestured to a series of fluted tubes, their surfaces inscribed with intricate alchemical designs. Ed peered in close, running his fingers over the crabbed runes.
"Those are Kelley arrays... why do you need large-scale energy transfer in an engine?"
"It's very simple. Thrust. These small fans here, powered by a simple electric motor, drive air into the transmutation chambers here. Now, as you're no doubt aware, Kelley arrays can be activated by electrical currents, yes? Good. So, when the fans are activated, the current triggers these arrays, which... can you guess what they do, Mr. Elric?"
Ed looked closer, then glanced at Al.
"It's fairly simple elemental transmutation, but my symbology is rusty. Al?"
He glanced briefly at the arrays. Pretty simple stuff, but of a configuration he'd never seen before.
"It looks like they heat the air up. The same sort of arrays that Mustang uses- er, used, but much simpler."
Von Junker beamed even more.
"Precisely, Mr. Elric. So, the hot air expands in the chamber, and these valves force it out of the bottom of the tube, here. In essence, a tiny electrical current generates a tremendous amount of thrust using nothing more than hot air! If we could prevent the arrays from degrading in the heat, aeroalchemic engines would permit men to fly like birds. Imagine the skies opened up to everyone! It would end suffering! Poverty! War!"
Ed shook his head in wonderment, while Al just nodded. Okay, now he was starting to sound like a mad scientist.
"I-"
"Please, let me finish. You're going to love this."
He hurried over to the scaffolding, where most of the researchers seemed to be working.
"Ventura! Mitchell! Stop the testing! We're doing a dry run. And take those canvasses down! Show our guests."
The researchers bustled about, connecting huge banks of electrical power cables into several compact dynamos further down the wall. Von Junker turned back to them.
"Tell me, what are the three basic principles of alchemy?"
"Comprehension, Deconstruction and Reconstruction."
"Precisely, Alphonse. May I call you Alphonse? Good. You understand what an object is, you reduce it to a simpler form, and then you rebuild that form into something else. What we are building here, gentlemen, is the simplest application of that principle. I present to you... the telealchemic portation engine!"
The dramatic punch of his wild flourish was somewhat lessened when only half of the canvas coverings fell off, but the machine he revealed was nonetheless impressive. The telealchemic engine was mostly made up of two booths, slightly larger than a man, connected by thick skeins of cable. The floors and walls of each booth seemed to be mostly glass covering hundreds of tiny metallic tiles, each inscribed with a minute alchemic circle. The tiles themselves were mounted on complicated armatures, all leading back to two towering assemblies of gears and cogs, one for each booth. Al frowned. So. This was where their budget claims were going.
"Telealchemic portation? To carry over a distance using alchemy?"
"Precisely! Allow me to demonstrate."
Von Junker pulled a red-handled lever on the nearest booth, and then stepped inside. There was a hum of electricity as the tiles clicked and clattered, rearranging themselves faster than the eye could follow. The stacks of gears rotated, pegs locking into place. One of the researchers fed a thin strip of paper through one end of the machine, then glanced at it again as the machine spat it out.
"One hundred twenty-five! Error margin three!"
One of the researchers at the other booth gave a thumbs up, whereupon his team began to cart stacks upon stacks of thickly-bound books into their end. After a few seconds, their work was done.
"All right, boys. Main sequence start!"
The air filled with the smell of ozone as electricity arced across the outside of the booths. One of the old men pulled a second lever, yelling against the noise.
"Transfer in 3... 2... 1... Transference complete!"
Von Junker disappeared from the first booth in a flash of light and a blat of sound. Then he stepped out of the second, still beaming. The first booth was now filled with a stack of books. Al felt his fists clench unconsciously. Okay. Mad scientist for sure. But not in a good way.
"What in the hell just happened, von Junker! Was that human alchemy?"
He only grinned, dusting himself off. Ed swore, stepping forwards, his hands raised.
"If you're practising human transmutation-!"
"Nothing of the sort. I'm well aware of the strictures against human alchemy. And this isn't. This is the most basic alchemy possible. It is a direct application of the three principles. Please, allow me to explain. Let's call the booth on the right A, and the one on the left B, shall we? Good. So, I step into booth A. Activating that switch also activates the circles inscribed on the tiles there. Each tile is tuned to one of the elements. By measuring the feedback from each tile, we can exactly determine the elemental composition and energy states in chamber A. Now, the difference engine there," he indicated the tower of gearing, "Takes that data, encodes it, and outputs the weight to be transferred. We fill chamber B with an approximately equal mass. Once that is complete, we trigger the transfer between the two chambers. The difference engine takes my encoded information, and uses it to alchemically deconstruct me into electrical impulses. Meanwhile, the same thing is happening with the books in chamber B. So, now we have two encoded electrical patterns; one of me, in chamber A, and one of the books, in chamber B. It's a simple matter to switch these patterns, decode them, and then feed them back into the circles. The process happens in reverse, and we are reconstructed. It's not actually transmutation, since neither I nor the books change. It's merely transportation. Near-instantaneous transportation between two points, at any distance. All you need is two booths and telephone wire to connect them."
Al crossed his arms. It all made sense, but still. Ed was a little more convinced.
"I- I'm sorry for getting angry. I don't know what to say, Director. This- this could revolutionise... well, everything. The scientific application alone... mein gott."
Al felt the need to ask a very obvious question.
"It's safe?"
"Perfectly. I've gone through dozens of times. The only danger is that the connection between the booths is cut, but even then all that means is that we reverse the process and rebuild you back where you started. Would you like to try?"
"I- what?"
"I'm quite serious. We've been wanting professional alchemists down here for a long time. I think the input of working alchemists could be extremely useful."
"You're not an alchemist yourself?"
"I have theoretical knowledge, but not practical. The telealchemic engine is the application of that knowledge. Our only real problem is size. You can see just how massive the transfer booths need to be. If we could just get alchemists in here to help us simplify the arrays, we could build them at half the cost, and even perhaps make them portable. Really, go ahead and try. You can probably both fit at once."
"Frankly, I can't say I trust you. Nothing personal, I just tend to get jumpy around strange alchemical devices."
"Okay, I get it, I'm convinced."
Three demonstrations of the engines later, Ed was raring to go.
"Al?"
He had to admit, it was quite impressed. And given that Ed wasn't melting or screaming for the sweet release of death...
"I- I dunno, Brother. Something about this seems... unethical."
"Al... You know the theory, you know the science. This isn't human transmutation. Heck, I wouldn't even call it transmutation. Besides, isn't this an adventure? This is the cutting edge! We're getting the chance of a lifetime here!"
"Against my better judgement, all right."
Al smiled, trying to overcome his misgivings. These were just a bunch of excitable old engineers with too much time on their hands.
"Let's do this."
They crowded into the booth, and Al staggered as the floor sunk slightly downwards. Von Junker made an apologetic gesture.
"Sorry, we need to weigh you to get the encoding right. We'll get the books loaded momentarily."
"Couldn't you use something other than books? Something like actual weights, maybe?"
"Al..."
"No, unfortunately. That's what we wanted the metal for on our budget. For machining. We spent the last three year's budgets down to the last penny building the engine. The books work well enough. Plus they don't cost us a cent! Nobody wants thirty-year-old engineering manuals!"
He glanced at the controls for a second, then looked back.
"We're starting the transfer! Hold on."
Al felt his hair stand on end. He was familiar with the usual alchemical static discharge, but this was something else entirely. His arms tingled and, rolling up his sleeves, he could see tiny electrical flashes arcing between the hairs on his arm. Then his stomach lurched and he went blind. When his vision came back he was not in the second booth. He doubted he was anywhere in Amestris. An endless field of white stretched around him, and before him hung the Gate. Ed stood a ways away, a bewildered expression on his face.
"Oh no."
"Al? Are you okay?"
"I-I'm fine, Brother. But this is..."
Ed nodded.
"The gate. This is bad. Very bad."
At that very moment, the Gate cracked open, and a vaguely humanoid figure stepped through. It looked straight at Al and Ed, moved to step out of the Gate, and then did a double take. When it spoke, there was an unfamiliar note of bewilderment in its snide voice.
"The Elrics? What the fuck?"
"What have you done, Truth? Why are we here!"
It stood in bewildered shock at the edge of the Gate, then, suddenly, sat down on the threshold, cradling its head in an eerily human gesture.
"Oh no. What in the- Oh no oh no oh no. This-"
Suddenly it looked up, and spoke with a strange urgency. The snide sarcasm normally present whenever it spoke was gone.
"Ed. Al. Listen, this is of vital importance. Something has gone terribly, terribly wrong. There's no time to explain. Look, I'm giving you back your alchemy. When you get pulled in, it's vitally important that you stay away from high-energy radiation. If you die, you could take the multiverse with you. Oh, this is bad."
"Giving back Ed's alchemy? Multiverse? What 's the meaning of aaaaaaaaaaaaa-!"
The ground opened up beneath them, and they fell out of the white plane and into... something else.
The King glanced at his team. Their faces were fixed in expressions of controlled, if grim, excitement. He gazed back over the horizon, straining his neck from his hunched position with his fingers firmly planted in the stone of the bunker's floor. He wished he could see more, but these damn slitted goggles-
Twenty-four vats of blasting jelly ignited, punching two tubular slabs of metal towards each other at dozens of times the speed of sound.
Everything went white. The sky filled with the radiance of a thousand suns. A mighty wall of flame and sound washed over the bunker. The earth trembled. As a great mushroom-shaped cloud sprouted on the horizon, King Bumi of Ba Sing Se removed the goggles with nerveless fingers. When he spoke, he did so without realizing it, quoting a text that he had read long ago.
"Now I am become Death, destroyer of worlds."
The assassin leaned further over the barrel of the steam projector, feeling its ignition chamber boiling under the heat from his hand. He readjusted his eye on the scope, peering down on the concourse several streets away. The targets were lined up exactly as the scouts had reported. The Primary and Secondary, in their ceremonial royal red garments, rode on a litter carried by two komodo-rhinos. Tertiary One strolled alongside, his orange robes a sharp contrast to the blues and greys of Tertiaries Two and Three. The Primary was lined up. He adjusted the focus on the scope lenses one final time, then tightened his finger over the trigger. The steam projector bucked, firing its tiny projectile towards its distant target.
For the briefest of moments, the air in front of him shimmered. Then, with an outrush of air, it deposited two confused and frightened Amestrians and a large pile of dusty old books directly in front of the path of the bullet. It hit Edward Elric in the top of his shoulder, grazing his flesh and leaving a shallow, painful cut. Its flight-path distorted, it missed Fire Lord Zuko, its intended target, completely.
The assassin only took a moment to react to something as patently impossible as two people and a pile of papers appearing directly in front of him. He removed a vial from his belt, set fire to it, and threw it in the air, where it exploded with a reverberating bang and a puff of blue smoke. Then, drawing a thin knife, he charged the apparitions in front of him, a wave of flame marking his passage.
The part of Al's mind that reacted to his being attacked wasn't entirely conscious. While a somewhat irrational part of him that was raving that someone had shot Ed in the shoulder, the part of his mind that was... deeper, more armoured- brought his hands together, and lifted up a block of... yes, it was ceramic tile. A sloping rooftop. He separated the tile into thin slices, sending them stabbing into the midsection of the man attacking him. He twisted, staggering only one pace back before launching into a spinning kick that sent a gout of fire roaring at Al's face. Before he could react, Ed had sucked the oxygen out of the air, and was going for one of his usual overly-acrobatic punches. The man responded by launching a volley of several more fireballs, before switching to a sword when Ed got too close. Al circled them as the dodged and weaved, unable to find an opening. Then he noticed something. Ed was fighting as if he still had an armour-encased arm. If he wasn't careful-
Ed fell backwards, arm deeply cut, roaring with pain as his blood spattered on the roof tiles. Al had his opening. Clapping his hands, he reached deep into the ceramic underneath him, lifting a narrow pillar that hit their attacker cleanly in the groin. He collapsed, yelping, but recovered with surprising speed. In a remarkable display of what Al thought might be flame alchemy, he made another strike, his fists wreathed in flame. Ed dodged, slamming his hands together in preparation for another strike, whereupon the attacker started screaming. He stumbled, the flames catching on his body, making a desperate attempt to extinguish the flames. His frantic gestures only seemed to make them worse. With a whoosh and a horrific wet popping sound, the orange fire became blue, and then a flat white. The thing that hit the roof was less a corpse, and more a badly carbonized skeleton. Al stared down at it, his nose wrinkling at the smell of burned flesh.
"What just-"
There was a distant explosion, followed by panicked screams. They reacted without thinking. Someone was in trouble.
Aang didn't see them until they had killed the guards. About a dozen men and women, in peculiar flanged gray body armour. All armed with what looked like crossbows. And all of them going for Zuko. They seemed to be an even mix of the three elements. He deflected a burst of flames, the gout of air exploding with a deafening whoomph. The crowd was screaming now, panicked. He flipped forwards, spinning around to deliver a reverse thrust that knocked the nearest firebender away, before throwing himself into a spinning dodge as a sharpened spear of ice whizzed past his face. Peripherally, he saw Katara, Mai, Zuko and Sokka fighting the attackers. Sidestepping one of the downed guards, he had to leap vertically to avoid a wall of earth. These guys were good.
"Katara! Who are these guys?"
"Not now, Aang!"
He kicked upwards into a leap, readying a ball of air to strike downwards at a non-bender coming at him, crossbow raised, when two more figures joined the fray. He caught a glimpse of bright... He caught a glimpse of bright... yellow? There was a peculiar flash of blue-white light, and a fist-shaped lump of rock sent the man below him staggering. Aang mustered a concussive sphere of air, ready to take down the unsteadu bowman. Then something went wrong. His vision seemed to sharpen, and he felt a surge of power through his arms. The ball of air whirled faster and faster, and he felt his skin burn as the friction started to wear away at his palms. The air around him was ringing like a bell, and he felt his ears pop. His attacker, though... He seemed to be shaking, doubling over as huge cracks spread across his armour. He screamed inaudibly, and Aang saw his teeth shatter one by one. The ball of air exploded. He felt something spatter across his face as his head cracked against the hard-packed ground. It was warm.
He faintly heard a second muffled detonation, then the sound of Zuko yelping and Katara screaming in fear.
Zuko didn't see the two figures join the battle. What he did know was that his firebending seemed to stop working. He was trying for a jet of fire, but all that happened was a feeling of pressure in his hand. Grunting in pain, he slid past a whip-like knot of flame, punching his hand out in a second try. It was almost like when he was first learning to Firebend, and all he could do was- The end of his fist exploded in a burst of white flame, and he was smashed into a wall as the line of fire from his fist incinerated one of his would-be assassins.
Katara was in trouble. She hadn't bothered to fill up her water skins, and she was running dangerously low. The thin shields of water surrounding her couldn't block or hit hard enough to be useful. The dry Fire Nation summer meant she couldn't get much water from the air, either. She swayed out of reach of the man striking for her, desperately reaching for water. Any water. Then she found some. Reality became crystal-clear, like thin frost. She noticed that her water shields were thickening. And turning pinkish-red. She smelled iron. Her attacker's mouth opened in a silent scream as blood poured from his pores, swirling around Katara. She began to scream as his skin dissolved.
Aang realized with horror that he was covered in... in meat. And then a nearby market stall burst open, revealing a man covered in fuses and sticks of what looked like blasting jelly. He wore the explosives like a cloak, stumbling under their weight as he hurled himself towards Zuko. Aang raised a hand, summoning all the elements to stop him, but couldn't react fast enough. He watched in horror as the man pulled a ripcord on his coat, and put on one last burst of speed. Then a blur of yellow. No, gold. Two figures. Both teenaged, maybe a little older. One tall and thin, the other shorter and muscular. He felt reality sharpen again as a wall of stone rose around the bomber. Then there was a dull thunk and he blacked out.
-~0X0~-
Yay! Consider this a New Year's/ Christmas gift. With any luck, my updating scheduly will be one chapter of this length once a month, 'til it's done. I have no idea of how long this is gonna end up being, though, so yeah...
I'd also like to thank all those who reviewed, and send a message out to those who favourited or alerted this but didn't review; tell me what you think! C'mon! I want to knnnnow!
Happy New Year!
EDIT: Major continuity/character rewrite, again.