"Zuko, what does it say? Zuko?"
Katara was half on her feet now, and, though Al still had no idea what was going on, only a simpleton would fail to realize that something extraordinarily important had just happened. Iluq said nothing, although he did stare at Ed and Al with something between disgust and fascination. Apparently blond hair wasn't a thing you saw frequently in the Four Nations. Al got to his feet, curious.
"Zuko? What is happening, please?"
The Fire Lord didn't seem to hear him. He handed the letter to Katara, and then strode out, forcing the guard and Iluq to hastily scramble out of the way. As he broke into a power-walk that was almost a jog, everyone in the room piled out to follow him, the air filled with a cacophony of confused questions.
"Zuko? Zuko!"
"Buddy, c'mon! Tell us?"
"What is it, Zu-"
When Zuko spoke, it was with frightening strength: his barking orders chastened everyone into silence.
"Iluq, come with me. Guard, sound an emergency meeting. Get the High Command assembled. Find War Minister Qin. And ready one of the fast airships, now."
Without a word, the guard hurried off, and only seconds later a low throbbing alarm resounded across the palace grounds. There was the sound of distant yelling, and torches were lit all across the vast building as it stirred into life. The palace had been winding down as night fell: now it was a veritable hive. Aang caught up to Zuko, shouldering his way past Al with a low "sorry".
"Zuko! What's going on? What did that letter say? Answer me!"
The Fire Lord cast him a quick glance, but didn't stop.
"I'll tell you in the throne room."
They reached what Al construed to be the throne room, a long pillared hall with a high dais at one end and a long, low table set down the middle. Dozens of servants and orderlies scurried about, lighting torches and laying out a huge map, which caught both Al and Ed's eye.
"So that's the world, yeah Al?"
"Seems like it, Brother."
"What was that line from that movie? 'Fritzie, we certainly aren't in Amestris anymore'?"
"Sounds about right."
Zuko settled himself on the covered dais, gesturing for his companions to find seats as best they could. Then he seemed to shake himself, getting back up and pacing back and forth in front of the throne.
"Where are those damned generals!"
Settling themselves in against the granite and polished metal of the dais, Al and Ed took a corner of the dais, settling in to wait.
"Brother, that's a king if I ever saw one."
"Yeah, looks like he and Bradley would've gotten along just fine."
There was a growing clamour from outside, and a large group of middle-aged men, and one slightly younger woman, stormed in, most in sleeping clothes or partial states of hasty dress. Zuko motioned them to take their places around the table, forestalling them when they began to bow ceremonially.
"I've called you here because I've just received word of an attack on the Northern Water Tribe. A little over a week ago, several airships destroyed the Capital."
Iluq broke in, apparently too tired to care that he was interrupting royalty.
"Three airships, Fire Lord."
Zuko gave him a brief glare, then nodded.
"Thank you. Three airships have destroyed the Capital. It appears casualties were minimal, as the city was mostly empty at the time. Nonetheless, Chief Arnook is threatening military action unless we can demonstrate that the airships who committed this- this crime against peace were not ours. I- We have worked too hard to build this peace only for it to come crashing down around our ears, and I will not fight another stupid war."
There was a babble of shouting and yells as the High Command absorbed the news. There were recriminations, denials, accusations, but Zuko only allowed one person to address him directly. The woman, clad in an elegant suit of dress robes, hastily tied. She stood when Zuko gestured at her.
"Sky Admiral Ying. What is the current status of our airship fleet? We are the only people in the world who have airships, are we not?"
She bowed briefly, her heavyset face deadly serious.
"The fleet is scattered sir, running the courier routes assigned to them after the Armistice. We have twenty five light Comet-class destroyers, fifteen of the Star-class cruiser airships, and one of the Phoenix Lord Ozai - class heavy air battleships. Of those, only one ship is armed for combat."
"We still have a combat-capable airship? Which one? I thought I had ordered the disarmament of the fleet after the Armistice. Oh, and please have those battleships renamed. I don't want to be reminded of my father's crimes any more than I have to be."
"N-no sir. We'll have the class designation wiped from the records. And sir, I didn't say combat-capable. I said armed. The second of the Phoenix Lord- sorry, sir, the uh, battleships is almost completed in dry docks, and it is armed with autoballistae and fully functional bomb racks, but it would take several month's worth of work to get it airworthy. Production was halted by Article 5 of the Armistice. So we're effectively disarmed, sir."
"And no airships have reported anything unusual? Nothing's gone off course lately? No sightings of other airships? No disappearances?"
"Well, one of the Comets, the Leaf on the Wind, did stray off its courier route about a week ago-"
"Where did it go? Was it anywhere near the North Pole?"
"-I was going to say, sir, that it strayed off its route to pick up a large cargo of bootleg alcohol and what we think are several very large crates full of, uh-"
Ying cast a glance over the assembly, and Al saw that, despite her composed expression, she was trying not to look embarrassed.
"Well? Full of what? This is important, Sky Admiral."
"Full of what we think are extremely pornographic art scrolls from the eastern Earth Kingdom. Have you ever heard of Tsya's Art of the Ancient Temple?"
There was an awkward silence. Zuko coughed, blushing crimson. One of the generals stifled a giggle, which he hurriedly turned into a dignified throat-clearing. Ying doggedly continued.
"But anyway, Lord, they were nowhere near the North Pole. And the crew was severely punished. If there were airships involved as Chief Arnook claims, they weren't ours."
Iluq broke in again.
"There were airships. We don't know if they were Fire Nation airships, but we do know that they were big, they flew, and they dropped enough incendiary explosives to level an entire city."
Zuko pondered this for a moment.
"War Minister Qin, what are the chances that someone else has developed airships with capabilities similar to ours?"
The War Minister stood, his neat topknot and goatee slightly offset by the florid pink pajamas he wore.
"Frankly, Fire Lord, quite slim. The only person with the technological capabilities would be the Mechanist at the Northern Air Temp-"
Aang was on his feet in an instant, breaking in for the first time.
"The Mechanist would never design weapons of war! Especially not military airships!"
Qin gave a cold nod.
"With all due respect, Avatar Aang, it's happened before. We both know that the Mechanist has been... persuaded in the past. But as I was saying, Firelord, airships are unlikely. Light war balloons would be fairly easy for anyone with a basic knowledge of textile-making and steam power, but fully functional airships require access to facilities which can process and mould sky iron."
Qin paused, collecting his thoughts, and Al took the opportunity to break in.
"What is sky iron? A metal?"
Qin cocked an eyebrow.
"Fire Lord, who is this boy with the bizarre hair? Is he to be privy to military secrets?"
Zuko nodded.
"Keep going, War Minister."
"If you really must know, Sky Iron is a strong but flexible metal with a density similar to-"
The last word was gibberish to Al.
"I'm sorry, similar to what?"
"You know, -. It's a metal, bonds with – to form salt, reacts explosively with water."
The lexicon that Aang had taught him didn't include chemistry, but Al did his best.
"Sodium?"
"Yes. Sky iron is as hard as steel and has a density comparable to sodium. It's the main structural component for all of our airships. Any heavier and they'd just fall out of the sky. The problem, Fire Lord, is that sky iron requires incredibly high temperatures to forge. The kind of temperatures you'd only find in a Firebender's blast furnace or-"
"Or the Mechanist's workshops. Thank you, War Minister."
Zuko turned to face the High Command, steeling himself.
"I am leaving tonight for the Northern Water Tribe, and I am bringing the Avatar and his compatriots with me. We're going to meet with Chief Arnook personally, and see if we can sort this mess out."
Thirty minutes later, a light Comet airship left the Palace, a somewhat bewildered Appa hanging his tail out a rear hatch. Giving the sky bison one last pat on the head, Aang closed the door, his eyes readjusting to the dim red light that suffused the airship. Then, turning, he worked his way to the cockpit, occasionally stumbling over the girders and pipework that lurked at ankle-level. T he Comet, which was apparently named the Wind Chariot, was cramped and uncomfortable, even by Fire Nation standards. Despite being a vehicle intended for the Royals, it was not luxurious: the bomb bays and Firebending emplacements had been stripped away, making room for a fourth set of engines, and most of the body was taken up by huge coal dust hoppers and cargo bays: it was a ship perfectly capable of flying around the world, faster than Appa, without any need to stop or refuel.
Climbing down a ladder onto the belly of the airship, he arrived at a thick door leading onto the observation room directly below the cockpit. The room was the only concession to the royals using the vehicle: a bulbous collection of windows, couches and folding tables, equipped with a small but functional bathroom and a compact kitchen. Packed into it were Katara, Zuko, Sokka, Ed and Al. Mai had outright refused to come, claiming that airships made her nauseous, and that 'politics are even more dull than hanging around here.' Aang thought he might be able to see the logic, anyways. Though she and Zuko weren't married or anything, Mai was the Fire Lady in all but name. She could hold the fort while they were gone.
Swinging the door shut, Aang collapsed onto one of the thickly pillowed seats, blinking sleepily out the panoramic windows. The sea stretched beneath them, a faint layer of cloud blocking out the stars above. He was alone in the capsule, save for Sokka's discordant snoring. The older boy was sprawled across a bench in the bottom half of the capsule. Thankfully, his continuous 'snnnnrkh-heeehh' was mostly drowned out by the buzzing rumble of the airship's engines. The door opened softly, and Aang turned, smiling tiredly when he saw who it was.
"Hey Katara."
She shuffled in next to him, yawning softly.
"Hey Aang. We should both be asleep, shouldn't we?"
"Yeah-"
He stifled a yawn. Maybe they were contagious after all.
"I just had to check on Appa. The engineers rigged up a place for him to rest in the rear cargo bay, and I wanted to see if he was doing all right."
"Okay, I understand. Do you have any idea what Ed and Al are up to? I was walking by their bunks, and I heard them talking. Also, the sound of paper moving. Do you know what's up with them? Because they're definitely not asleep."
Aang rubbed his eyes, settling closer against Katara. She was very warm, and very close, and very soft- he stopped that train of thought.
"Aang?"
"Oh. Right. Sorry. Ed and Al, yeah. They really wanted to see those books that appeared when they did. Some side effect of the... science magicky alchemy thing that sent them here."
Katar smiled teasingly.
"Sciency magicky alchemy? You must be really tired if you're starting to talk like Sokka."
Aang laughed, much louder than he'd intended, but clamped a hand over his mouth when Katara's brother stirred, mutter something about jerky, and rolled over.
"Whoops. Ed looked through a few of them, and he and Al started talking really fast in Amestrian. It was way too technical for me to keep up."
Katara sighed, staring away into the distance.
"I dunno, Aang. They seem nice, and you did get inside their heads, but this all seems so sudden. Two days ago, someone tried to kill us. And then two people from another- another world show up, and suddenly the Northern Water Tribe's been destroyed, and, and..."
She shuddered, struggling not to cry. Aang hugged her closer.
"Katara..."
She took a deep breath, gulping.
"Aang... when we were fighting off those assassins, and Ed and Al's Alchemy threw off our bending... I- I killed someone. I killed a man. I pulled all of his blood out and watched him t-turn to dust in front of me. I mean I'm sure I've killed people- with Waterbending you can never be sure, but- but- I saw his eyes. I saw the pain and the fear and that moment when the spark went out of his eyes. And I-"
"Katara, it's okay-"
She was speaking in gasps now, crying harder than Aang had ever seen her cry.
"You don't understand, Aang. I- I enjoyed it. Some twisted part of me just- just laughed. It was like when Hama m-made me bloodbend. It was a, a thrill. I feel- I feel like a monster. Like Azula!"
Aang held her, unsure of what to say.
"K-katara, I know I'd like to be able to say something wise, or smart, or avatar-y, but I can't. But I will tell you this. You are kind, and you're sweet, and you're a good person, and I love you, and you're not a monster."
He ran a hand through her hair.
"And you are nothing, nothing like Azula."
They sat in sad silence for some time, Katara weeping softly. Then she screwed her resolve to the sticking-place, looking Aang in the eyes. She was beautiful, in a red-eyed puffy sort of way. Aang smiled reassuringly.
"Thanks, Aang. It means a lot to me. I- we should go to bed. It's late."
They left the room in comfortable silence, leaving Sokka to snore away in blissful oblivion.
Al squinted at the diagram in the harsh red light, his pencil scratching away in his notebook as he copied down a diagram for a simple rifle bore. He and Ed were burning the midnight oil, an activity he wasn't... entirely unfamiliar with. For Al, copying complicated diagrams out of books at odd hours of the night was an old pastime, although they were normally alchemical diagrams, not blueprints. He sat back, careful not to bang his head on the low ceiling of the bunk, and rubbed his eyes.
"How's it going, Brother?"
When Ed spoke, he didn't look up from the book he was copying notes out of.
"Not bad. I've got the internal combustion engine and petroleum refining done, and I've just gotten started on gunpowder. How's the diagram end coming?"
Al sighed, shuffling through his (now filled) notebook, as well as the scrolls of paper he and Ed had borrowed from one of the Fire Lord's scribes. They were now filled with simple technical diagrams, all neatly labelled in the curved shorthand that both he and his brothers were wont to work in.
"I've covered most of the engine and refining stuff, and I'm about a quarter of the way through rifling. Are you sure this is a good idea?"
This time Ed looked up.
"We've gone over this, Al. We're strangers in a world which is just recovering from a century of war, and where another war might be on the verge of starting. We might have our alchemy, but we can't take on the world. Since there's no obvious way back home, we might as well ensure that we can use our resources as much as possible."
"Ah yes. The mighty industrial will of Amestris brining civilisation to the barbarian hordes. I thought you hated that kind of propaganda."
Edward sighed, putting down the book and the scroll. The red light gave his face a strangely demonic cast.
"Al... come on. I just want to get home. But to get home, we have to stay alive. I don't want to destroy these people. Just- just help them along. If we help them, they'll help us."
Al sighed, and looked his brother straight in the eye.
"Ed, tell me we won't let this get out of hand. You've read the history books. You know what happens when an invading power comes in with technology and tries to change things."
His brother stared back, and nodded ruefully.
"You're right. We can't let the Amestrian Man's Burden get the better of us. Thanks Al."
He gave him a playful punch on the shoulder.
"Way to be my moral compass. Now I'll just get this page finished, and we can go to bed, okay?"
Al nodded, turning back to the page.
"Agreed. I never want to have to look at machine tools ever again. God, I'm going to be dreaming in Metric tonight."
The cover of Irmbard Brunel's Encyclopedia of Industry, Volume 32: Firearms and the Manufacture Thereof snapped shut, and Al heaved the book off the bed, placing it on top of the pile of Volumes 1 through 40, inclusive. Thankfully, some clever soul had recovered all the tomes that had been telealchemically ported into this new Earth, and Ed had been overjoyed when he'd discovered that they were all texts on general engineering, mechanics and the like. Al was almost entirely positive that he'd gotten the idea to utilise the ideas contained in the books from a movie. If- When they got back to Amestris, he'd have to get the theatre to stop giving free season passes. Admittedly, he had fixed their roof and redecorated the interior for free, but still. Risembool was now the only town in Amestris with a movie theatre in the Gothic style, gargoyles and all.
Zuolin heaved himself from the wreckage, dragging one of the badly injured gunners. The tank had held, miraculously, but it was a dead loss. The rockets- they had sounded like rockets- had destroyed the tracks, the turrets, everything. He'd managed to Earthbend the granite plating and the engine into a crude shelter for most of the crew, but the storm of shrapnel and fire had got through. He winced as he deposited the unconscious gunner on the sand, the burns and lacerations across his back stinging in the gritty desert wind. The air was filled with sand and smoke, although the constant desert wind was rapidly clearing the air. And, he noted, rapidly clearing away the tracks of the tanks which had attacked them. The angular designs looked a little Fire Nation, but the War was over. And now this.
The exhausted crew slumped down in the shadow of the tank, some of the less injured helping the badly wounded ones to drink from the canteens they'd managed to recover from the inside. Zuolin wasn't worried: he knew that the dust cloud from the rocket barrage would be visible from the Si Wong Test Area's headquarters: they'd have Sandbender rescue teams on the ground within minutes. He was worried about the tanks.
"Hou Tu, what have we gotten ourselves into?"
Bumi settled back into the throne, feeling the stone mould itself to his aching back. With a relaxed sigh, he began to bend the rock, effectively turning the throne into a massage chair. His advisors did a good job of not looking surprised or weirded out. The messenger, on the other hand did not. Bumi felt the need to enlighten him.
"When you get to my age, young man, you learn to take every opportunity to relax that presents itself. Now go on."
The messenger glanced back at his scroll, then gulped. Bumi knew he tended to have that effect on people. But Bumi was interim Earth King, at least until they found Kuei. Or his remains, for that matter. Or evidence that he was no longer breathing. But the messenger was speaking.
"Losses were minimal, but they report that the H-Yis couldn't even scratch them. They pulled back, whereupon General Zuolin's group was hit with something similar to a rocket barrage."
"Something similar? So he ended up between a rocket and a hard place?"
One of his advisors snorted, and Bumi made a mental note to accidentally drop some fire flakes into his stew later. The messenger gave him a bemused expression.
"I suppose so, sir. They suffered heavy casualties, the tanks were disabled, and they were recovered by a Sandbender team about twenty minutes later."
"Only twenty minutes? Only twenty miserable minutes?"
"Y-yessir."
"Very good. Tell Si Wong that their Sandbenders are to be commended for their efficiency. And have the H-Yis repaired and modified per the results of the field trials. That will be all, thank you."
The messenger was in a state Bumi liked to think of as "so confused it's hilarious to watch". Nonetheless, he obeyed proper formalities, bowing and scraping as he left. Bumi rose, shuffling his way out of the throne room, up the closest stairwell and onto the roof of the palace. There was a covered area here: a small Pai Sho room, one that he'd carved out of the stone of the palace roof. The Pai Sho board in the gazebo was unusual: for one, it was several dozen times larger than a standard board, and for another, it had tiles strewn across it in a way that would make any enthusiast of the game wince. A Pai Sho master, on the other hand, would look at it and realize that the tiles were suspiciously similar to an abstract depiction of the deployment patterns of every single major armed group on the planet. Bumi seated himself on a thin reed mat, his bare feet flat on the stone floor, and shifted a few of the tiles with his Earthbending. Then he stopped, and considered the pattern. He watched, and he waited. And grinned.
"Veeery interesting. Somebody's starting something."
General Si strolled along the Plaza, a cloth shopping bag dangling from one shoulder. There were nods, greetings and salutes from passers-by, but he'd made these trips often enough that people no longer stared. Everyone here knew who he was, anyways. He had built the place, hadn't he? As he always did, he cast a glance up to the 'sky', seeing a dark shape move past. Interesting. He'd have to ask the Oceanographers about it later. But now he had reached his destination. The paleograph shop was the only place in the City to buy sound recordings, and it had prospered as paleographs became commonplace. The manager, Kong Zhe, gave him a cheerful wave.
"'Afternoon, Gen'ral!"
"Kong Zhe. Pleasure to see you as always. What's new?"
"Well, we've got a new copy of Jieshi's Solitary Orchid that we got from the orchestra, and then there's a new recording of Boli's Music in Twenty-five Parts. That's spread across thirty paleos, of course."
He indicated a rack stuffed to overflowing with paper cylinders marked 'Boli'. Shi sighed.
"I think I'll pass on the classics. Boli's good for the first five minutes, but then you just realize it's like the same three bars being played over and over again. Surprise me, Kong Zhe."
The manager shrugged, and then grinned as an idea occurred to him.
"There is something, but I know you're not a popular music fan, so..."
"Please, Kong Zhe. Indulge me."
"Well, they're this Western Earth Kingdom group called The Jeachong. Really popular with the young people, apparently. I've heard all their concerts topside have been sold out: they're coming on tour in the Fire Nation in the next few months. I'm going to go see them if I can get some surface time."
Shi grinned, picking up one of the paleographs Kong Zhe had indicated. On it was the image of four young Earth Kingdom men in uniform formal suits, with bizarre haircuts.
"I Wish to Hold You by the Hand? This Bender? The titles don't exactly roll off the tongue. But you do sound like you're a fan. They're good?"
Kong Zhe grinned awkwardly as one of the passing clerks rolled her eyes and elbowed him in the ribs. She grinned sarcastically as she spoke.
"They're good if you're a teenaged girl, General."
Kong Zhe reddened.
"Hey, now that's uncalled for! Teenaged girls aren't the only people who listen to The Jeachong! I happen to find their lute style quite catchy."
The clerk huffed and walked off, chuckling. Shi gave a bow that was a tad more formal than necessary, handing the manager exact change, plus a hefty tip.
"I'll be all ears. It's about time I had a change of style."
Half an hour later, as he relaxed in his quarters, he had to admit that the lutist was very catchy, whoever he was.
-~0X0~-
I'd like to begin this Authour's Note with an apology about the previous chapter: It contained far too much Baron de Pencier, and not nearly enough A:TLA and FMA. It's a problem I have. I tend to overthink things to the tiniest detail, such that I have an extremely accurate mental image of the exact workings of, say, a steam-powered tank using 1850s era technology, or how a paleograph is recorded, or other pointless details that are only really interesting to me. In the future, I'll try to stay more on topic, yes?
On an unrelated note, this is my first time trying to write anything approaching 'drama'. I'm normally an over-the-top pulpy ridiculousness kind of author, so the Aang/Katara scene was a- well, let's call it a change of pace. Is it all right? Please, tell me if it wasn't.
As for why this chapter is early: Travelling happened. Later in the month, when I'd normally be writing, I anticipate being horrendously jet-lagged, so an end-of-march update ain't gonna happen. In the meantime, have a happy March Break!
Review and question and point out plot holes and all that! And thanks to all you fine folks who reviewed!
And I'd still like to work with a beta!
And this Author's Note has gone on for far too long! Buh-bye!