Chapter Text
Edward’s eyes are closed as he stands at the edge of the hill, breathing in the musty air and letting the breeze blow through his clothes. He thinks about Winry, mostly, how she’s gone off without him again. She’d packed her things and taken the next shuttle off world, telling him how she’d see him soon enough.
It had felt like a lie - her eyes had been sadder than her face let on.
She was going to join the rebel alliance, if anything he would never see her again. But still, that’s all he wanted to do - follow her, join the rebels, make some kind of change. He was here, though. All he would ever be is here, stuck at home with Pinako being a farmer .
“Next year,” She would tell him, “Once we can afford more help.”
She’d been saying it for the past three years, she’d say it for three more.
He opens his eyes and watches the twin sunset, feeling the heat of the day taper off into the desert cold of nighttime. The only thing he could think of was just running away. Taking whatever life savings he had left and buying a ticket without telling anybody.
That wouldn’t work, he could never abandon Pinako. She’d raised him here, even when she didn’t have to. She gave him everything. It wasn’t her fault his mother had died, or that his father had abandoned him. Ed had to stay, at least out of gratitude.
He sighed, turning around to go back down into the house. One more year wouldn’t be too bad. He’d just work extra hard this year, prove that he was serious about leaving. That's what Winry had done - worked extra jobs until through the night and helped around the farm in the mornings, sleeping in the afternoons and on her days off.
It wouldn’t be that bad.
That was another lie he could try and pretend was real.
“Granny, why don't we take this one instead?” Ed calls, leaning back on his haunches to take a better look at the small droid in front of him.
It was much better made than the other one, despite some of the surface damage that looked fairly recent - that wouldn't be difficult to clean off, and anyway, they didn't need something clean, they needed something that would run the vaporizers without them.
“Fine, take it.” Pinako called back, dealing with bartering for the single droid the needed.
Ed smiled, turning back to the droid and patting it on the head. “Looks like you’re coming with me, little guy.”
The droid chirped, not sounding too happy with that arrangement.
Ed didn’t care, he was just happy they had another hand to help. They were definitely feeling Winry’s loss.
“Well, get used to it. Now you’re gonna learn how to reprogramme the backup moisture collectors. I’m sure that’s better than your old job.” He starts walking, and is happy to find the small droid following, beeping aggressively back at him.
He walks down the small ramp leading into the garage, listening to the droid chip about how it wasn’t made for programming.
“Is that so? Then what exactly were you made for?”
Another beep. ‘That’s classified.’
Ed huffed, kneeling back down beside the droid to scrub some of the carbon scoring from it. “Listen, buddy, I really don’t care what you were made for. You’re an HA-4 unit, and you’re going to programme for me so that I don’t have to.”
The droid beeped angrily again, and Ed saw writing on the side of the droid. It was beside the model number, just a little “YATE” written after the HA so it read “HAYATE”. He laughed, thinking that it was kinda cute.
“So you’re name’s Hayate then? Mine’s Edward.” He digs against the scoring a bit rougher, trying to get the grime out. “So, are you allowed to tell me where you’re from?”
Something clicked under Ed’s hand and the droid lurched forwards, throwing him off balance and to the floor.
“Hey what the fuck-”
“- Colonel Mustang, you’re our only hope .” A holovideo of a young man starts again, the figure kneeling down in front of the droid and whispering. “ Help me, Colonel Mustang, you’re our only hope .”
The video loops, and Ed just stares. First of all, it’s weird as hell - and second of all, the man looks… familiar. He knows he’s never seen him before, he would’ve remembered someone who looked like that. Gold hair, yellow eyes, tan skin. Nobody around here looked like that, that’s for sure.
“Who is he?” Ed asks, looking back up at Hayate, who just beeps angrily again - saying the message isn’t for Ed. ‘It’s for Mustang, only him!’
“Well, obviously it isn’t for me!” He yells, turning back to the projection. “He just… he looks like me, a bit. If my hair was shorter….” Ed trails off, staring at the image loop.
He brings a hand up to his hair subconsciously, playing with the end of his braid. A shiver goes up his spine as he listens to the voice. “You’re our only hope.” Suddenly, it clicks in his head.
“You’re an alliance droid!” He yells again, pulling himself back up onto his knees. “You’re- that’s- holy shit .” Ed’s hands scramble around Hayate’s command board, hitting a bunch of the buttons while the droid screamed. “Play the rest of the message! I want to know what he needs help with!”
Hayate chirps and beeps, spinning his head around and trying to push Ed off the best a droid could accomplish.
“Please, I want to help!” He yells, thinking of Winry. “Let me help!”
The message fades off, Hayate screeching at Ed that it isn’t any of his business.
Ed keeps hitting the side of the droid, until he’s basically just touching the metal siding every few seconds. It takes him a few more minutes to calm down, the adrenaline fading out until he’s left tired and alone in the garage, realising he’s arguing with a droid that isn’t even his.
+
Alphonse stood in defiance against the man in front of him, staring into dark eyes without a hint of the fear he felt in his stomach. He bit back on the way his hands started to shake, tucking them behind his back and holding them tight - he wouldn’t let anything show, not right now. After all, Al was a good liar, if nothing else.
He wouldn't betray the rebels, that was certain. Let then torture and kill him - at this rate, he knew it was coming. They’d take him and attempt to pry every piece of knowledge he had on the alliance, and then kill him once he provided nothing. The information was with Hawkeye, and she’d never let it go.
“I won't ask you again,” The man says, glaring down at Al, “Tell me where you've sent the plans.”
Alphonse stood his ground and smirked, grinding his teeth beneath the facade. “And I won't tell you again, I don't know what you're talking about. This is a diplomatic ship, Hohenheim, not a smuggling scheme - I won't be treated as some kind of criminal!”
“Mr. Curtis, the Empire is very much aware about your mother's involvement in with the Rebel Alliance.” Hohenheim frowned. “It would be unwise to act like you're innocent.”
Alphonse held the man's gaze - hands clasped behind his back so tightly he could feel his nails drawing blood - and continued his smirk. He knew how to act, how to feign ignorance, and at this point he was too proud to do anything else.
The rebels were going to win this, and there was nothing Hohenheim could do to stop them.
He does worry about Hawkeye, but he knows she can handle herself just fine. She'd been the perfect one to send with the astromec - the only one who could actually withstand torture if she was caught. And anyway, she'd said that she had a friend on Tatooine. It wouldn't be an issue for her to reach Yavin.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Al laughed, “Is the Empire really that desperate that it has to interrogate teenagers?”
“When they’re the son of an outspoken rebel sympathizer - then yes, we do interrogate teenagers.”
Alphonse was running out of cards, and he knew it. There was only so much he could taunt the man over. He had about three more minutes before they took him away, locked him in a cell and made him wait for the torture to begin. He wasn’t going to be disillusioned over the fact that Izumi Curtis was his mother, that fact hadn’t mattered since day one.
“Then the Empire must be truly desperate.”
Hohenheim took a step forwards, leaning over Alphonse and glaring. “Yes, we must be. But do not mistake our desperation for weakness, Mr. Curtis.”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s simple,” Hohenheim smiles, a carbon copy of Al’s own facetious smirk. “We’re going to turn the galaxy into a philosopher's stone.”
Alphonse feels his mask break, carefully held composer cracking into shards of itself under the weight of the words. A philosopher’s stone. He knew how those were made, he knew what they did.
He feels the floor turn out from under him after a moment, the back of his head throbbing while his vision swam. Something-someone had hit him, he thinks.
“Take him to the detention level, I want to show him something when he wakes up.” Hohenheim says, voice hollow and far away.
Alphonse feels the universe slip away, leaving him with nothing but darkness and fear.
+
“Do you know anybody around here named Mustang?” Ed asks later that evening, after they’d turned the floodlights off and left the farm in darkness.
Pianko turned around in her chair and gave him a look, something between ‘get lost’ and ‘what the fuck?’ - those were her most common looks, but together told another story. “Why do you want to know?”
“I think that HA-4 unit was stolen, it said something about finding a Colonel Mustang near here.”
There were a few minutes of silence, before Pianko spoke again. “He’s just some old hermit who lives to the East, don’t you worry about him.” She took a puff off her pipe. “Take that droid into town tomorrow and get its memory wiped. I paid for it, doesn’t matter who used to own it or not.”
Ed scowled, walking closer to the older woman and cross his arms over his chest. “You’re not even a little bit curious about this?”
“No, now go do your chores and go to bed. Early morning tomorrow.”
Just like that, the conversation was over.
Ed wanted to scream sometimes, she was so useless with everything except for automail and farming. She never told him anything about his parents, never mentioned if he had any other family - even Winry had mentioned that she ought to give him something - but no, Pianko never let on to anything about Ed’s real family.
And for some reason, this felt like family. This felt like something he was supposed to be involved in, incidental or not. Pianko avoiding the question meant that there was something else to it. Maybe this Mustang knew about his father, where he’d gone or if he was even still alive.
Ed would do anything for the opportunity to punch the old man for abandoning him.
So first thing’s first - he needed to find the Colonel.
+
Alphonse woke up to a screeching noise, followed by the dark room he’s in turning into stark white. He hissed back from the light, trying to pull an arm over his eyes but finding that his hands were shackled together and connected to the floor. Great.
The door at the side of the cell opened after a minute, followed by Hohenheim and another man in an imperial uniform.
“I trust you slept well,” Hohenheim greets blandly, letting the man pass him and release the chain connecting Al’s wrists to the floor - but keeping the ones attaching his hands in place. “You’ve been asleep for a full 14 hours, I would apologize for the use of force but it was actually quite convenient to have you unconscious.”
Alphonse stands, pulling away from the imperial officer and glaring at Hohenheim. “How
dare
you, my mother won’t stand for this-”
“You’re mother isn’t going to stand for anything, soon enough.” Hohenheim turns to the officer and nods, “Bring him with me.”
He’s led through the halls, of what obviously isn’t the star destroyer he was initially brought onto. The walls were too high, and the hall seemed to curve. Dread weighed down in his stomach, and Alphonse felt sick. He didn’t want to act anymore, he felt awful - and what the hell had Hohenheim meant?
“Threatening the leader of a planet won’t win you any favours, Hohenheim. Tell me what you mean.” No answer. “Hey, listen to me you bastard! What the hell do you mean ‘soon enough’? Tell me what’s going on!”
Again, no answer from Hohenheim. Instead, he gets an elbow to the gut by the officer walking beside him. “Shut up and walk.”
Alphonse coughs, clutching his stomach and cringing. It felt like his rib was broken, and it was difficult to catch his breath and walk at the same time. This had to be bad, if they weren’t hesitating to hurt him. There must be something wrong with the imperial court, none of them would stand for this. Alderaan was a major world, the emperor’s attack dog wasn’t more influential than the prince of an entire system.
The dread grew as they walked into the command room, more officers milling around the controls and steering the ship. Or no, not steering the ship, because they seem to be stationary. In front of what appeared to be Alderaan.
“Ah, I’m glad you’re here to join us.” Another officer says - turning to face Alphonse.
“General Bradley, I knew you would have something to do with this,” Alphonse spits. “Tell me what’s going on, the imperial court won’t pardon you for assaulting the prince of Alderaan.”
Bradley laughs, turning to face Hohenheim and giving the man a grin. “You haven’t told him yet?”
“Told me what?” Al shouts, which earns him another elbow to the gut. This one drops him to his knees, which he’s thankful for because-
“That we’re going to test our new weapon on Alderaan, Mr. Curtis.”
It takes him a moment to process what Bradley says, and when he does it still doesn’t completely register in his brain. Alphonse looks back at the planet in front of them through the view screen, feeling his entire body go numb with fear.
“You can’t…” He trails off. “Alderaan is a neutral system, the people there are innocent!”
“We can, and we will.” Bradley says, “Unless you tell us where the rebel alliance base is, in which we will instead test our weapon there.”
Al’s mind races, trying to figure out how much of a lie he could tell to get out of this. He knows that if they call his bluff the entire planet would be… and if he tells the truth he’d been killing thousands of rebels - people he knew, people he’d worked with for the past five years. He can’t balance them out, can’t think of it logically. He’d never been able to. To weight the lives of one group against another. Those kinds of calculations didn’t work in his mind - but his parents, could he really weight their lives against how much of a lie he could tell? Could he face Izumi again if he tells them that the rebels are on Yavin, getting all of them killed?
It’s too much, he doesn’t know, everything’s happening too quickly and before he knows it he’s speaking, saying words without filtering them.
“They’re on Dantooine.” He says, barely above a whisper. “The rebels are on Dantooine.”
Bradley scoffs, “What a pity.” He turns to a technician and gives him a nod. “Prepare to fire on Alderaan, full-power.”
“What!?” Al screams, trying to stand but struggling against the hand on his shoulder holding him down. “What do you mean!? I told you where they rebels are!”
“Yes, and Dantooine is much too small for the kind of display I want to set,” Bradley frowns. “Too bad, I was looking forwards to wiping all of you out for our first big show. This will have to do.”
Everything starts spinning, Al feels himself slipping again but he doesn’t let go. He holds on and keeps his eyes open, looking forwards and not taking his eyes off the planet. Every single person he grew up with lives on that planet. Martel is there, his school friends are there, his parents are there . He feels so sick, all he can do is sit on his knees in shock.
After another few minutes, everything’s gone - Al feels himself slip away.
+
Ed curses quietly as he climbs up the stairs into the garage, nearly tripping over a toolbox on his way down. It was nearly 3 am, way too early for any of the moisture systems to be knocking loud enough to wake him up.
Which only meant one thing - somebody was in his goddamn garage, probably stealing shit. This is exactly what he needs right now. Sarcasm intended.
He holds out the blaster rifle in his right hand, sitting it against his shoulder and hovering his finger over the trigger - it was set on stun, he didn’t feel like killing anybody tonight, but he was just about to that level with his sleep interrupted like this - before flicking on the light and bringing the garage into focus.
The first thing he notices is a blonde woman kneeling beside Hayate, the second thing he notices is that she also has a blaster in her hand, which is currently pointed at his face.
Shit. Shit.
“Don’t move!” He yells, trying to figure out if this woman would actually shoot him or not. Judging by the state of her - clothes ripped, hair in a mess, looking like she’s been living outside for the past week - he wouldn’t put it by her. But this was his house, goddammit. “Put your blaster down, and stand up.”
“Or what,” She laughs, rolling her eyes and keeping her blaster up. “You’ll shoot me with your little L-72 peashooter that’s not even set to kill?”
Ed grits his teeth and glares at her. “This is an L-75, thank you very much, and I’ll still haul your ass to the Imps if you don’t step away from my droid.”
“He’s my droid, thanks. And I was just leaving, so don’t worry about it kid.”
She stands up, blaster still pointed at him but eyes looking away, like she was daring him to shoot her. Ed stops for a second, her droid?
“Are you Colonel Mustang?” He asks, gun wavering in his hand. “From the message?”
The woman looks at him again, eyes wide. “You listened to the message? It was encoded how did you-”
“He just turned on, I don’t know. It didn’t play anything except the ending. Answer my question.” Edward dared to step further into the room, letting his blaster lower until the barrel was facing the ground. He wasn’t exactly trusting this woman, but if she was with the rebellion…
“No, I’m not Colonel Mustang.” She says, lowering her gun as well. “I’m Riza Hawkeye, I was Alphonse Curtis’ bodyguard until two days ago.”
“So you have no idea where Mustang would be?” Riza asks, sitting down at the kitchen table with Ed.
She looks better now than she did an hour ago, Edward had let her clean up, given her some of Winry’s spare clothes that would fit. She must be in her 40’s, maybe early 50’s, it was hard to tell, short hair still straggly and dirty from the sand.
“No,” Ed says, “I asked my grandmother, but she got all avoidant and told me not to ask again.”
Riza laughs, “That’s typical. If you’ve met Roy Mustang, he’s not the kind of person you’d want to brag about to your kids.”
“Who is he, though? I mean, Obviously he has something to do with the Rebel Alliance, but who is he?”
Riza avoids his eyes, looking down at the table while she speaks. “He’s one of those old religious freaks, y’know the ones? They used to call them Jedi when I was a kid. We fought in the Clone Wars together, he was… he was really something. Once the Empire took over, he moved out here to avoid them.” She looked back up. “He’s the only one that can help us bring these plans to Alderaan.”
“You- I’m coming with you. At least to see Mustang.” Ed said, leaning across the table. “He might know something about my father, or my mother, or anyone. My father fought in the Clone Wars, and I saw that look in your eyes when I told you my last name.”
Riza gives him a look, one of the looks he knows from Pinako. “Listen, Edward. You’re a kid-”
“I’m 18 years old, don’t treat me like I’m 12.” Ed cuts her off.
“Still, Ed. You might not like what you find out.” Her eyes are sad now, less defiant but equally cold.
“I don’t care. Please, Riza, let me come with you. Granny Pinako might let me go if it’s for something like this.” He pleads. “I just want to do something that will make a difference.”
Riza’s silent for a few minutes, staring down at her hands and thinking.
Ed doesn’t know what he’ll do if she says no. Sneak off and follow her anyway? Probably not a good idea, especially this late at night. After what felt like an hour, Riza stands up from the table and moves to go to the door, turning at the last second and pausing.
“I’m not waiting all day for you, come on.”
He couldn’t stop the smile forming on his face.
Colonel Roy Mustang couldn’t have lived in a more obnoxious spot, Edward decides. The sun is already up by the time they reach him, heat setting in for a long day below the suns.
Riza knocks on the door, right hand holding her blaster and left looking like it was ready to draw another. The woman was scary, way scarier than Winry would ever be, but Ed admired her. She treated him like an adult, but wasn’t rude. If anything, Edward wanted to be more like her, more unafraid of the universe.
“Go away!” A voice shouts, “I’m not buying anything!”
Riza grins, before knocking again. “Sir, it’s rather important.”
The door opens a moment later, almost too quickly for Ed to be convinced he hadn’t been right on the other side. The man standing in the doorway is… rough looking. Almost as rough as Riza had looked back in Edward’s garage. His hair was greying at the temples and too long at the back, his face was tired looking, and he was wearing the strangest pajamas Ed had ever seen
“Hawkeye?” He asked, almost in disbelief. “Is it really you?”
“Yes sir,” She says. “I’m sorry I’m not here on better circumstances.”
Mustang’s eyebrows furrow, before he looks over at Ed and frowns. “So you found him, huh?”
Ed, confused about the situation, just raises an eyebrow. “Do I know you?”
Mustang looks between the two of them, before backing away from the door. “You two better come in.”
“Colonel Mustang, years ago you served with my mother during the Clone Wars. Now she begs you to help her with this struggle against the Empire. I regret that I am unable to present my mother’s request to you in person, but my ship had fallen under attack and I’m afraid my mission to bring you to Alderaan has failed.
“I have put information vital to the survival of the Rebellion into the memory of this HA-4 unit, as well as sent my person guard with it for extra protection, and as a courtesy to my unavailability. My mother will know how to retrieve the files. You must see this droid safely delivered to her on Alderaan.
“This is our most desperate hour. Help me, Colonel Mustang, you are our only hope.”
The room falls silent once the message holovideo stops, the three of them all tense. Riza had known these things before, the other two had not.
Roy is the first one to speak, standing from his spot and walking across the room to a cabinet. “I have something to show you, Edward.”
The man returns after shuffling around, and Riza sighs. “Sir, is that necessary-”
“Leave it, lieutenant. He deserves to know.”
Edward bites the inside of his cheek to stop from saying something sarcastic. He didn’t like the tense atmosphere.
“Here,” Roy hands him some kind of… tube? “This was your fathers.”
“What is it?” Ed asks, looking down along the body and fingering some of the switches, before the end erupts into energy and almost throws his arm sideways from the unexpected force. “ Holy shit .”
“It’s a lightsaber.” Riza says, “Please don’t cut off your arm, or mine. Maybe just turn it off, actually.”
Ed laughs, looking at the blue light fizzling around the edge of the handle.
“Do you know what happened to your parents, Edward?” Roy asks, reaching over to turn the lightsaber off when Ed didn’t.
Ed shrunk a bit, holding the handle closer to his middle. “No, I know my mother died in childbirth, but I don’t know anything about my father. Granny wouldn’t tell me anything.”
Roy gets back up, leaving the room this time for a few minutes. When he looks over at Riza, she isn’t looking at him, instead she’d looking at the lightsaber in his hands. It was obvious that she was in pain, and Ed wishes he could comfort her in some way. He barely knew her, but she seemed like someone he’d known for a long time.
After a few more minutes, Roy returned with a picture frame, wrapped in a piece of cloth and clutched tightly in the man's hands. “Your father died, during the last year of the war. I’m sorry you had to find out like this.”
Ed took the picture frame, hands shaking slightly - Pinako had never told him he father was dead.
The picture was of three men, two with darker hair and another with light blonde hair, almost the same age Ed was now. He knew immediately that it was his father, he looked just like Edward did. Same long hair, same face, same eyes - the only addition were a pair of glasses and some kind of weird braid handing out of his ponytail. It was odd to look at, Ed’s chest felt too tight the longer he stared at the man, breathing becoming difficult. He refused to cry.
“He was a Jedi?” Edward asked, trying to keep his voice steady. He’d never seen a photograph of his father before, he’d never known what the man looked like. “How did he die?”
Roy didn’t look him in the eye. “He was killed in the extermination.” He said. “A student of his killed him, after defecting to the Empire.”
“Who?” He almost thinks that Roy didn’t hear him, he said it so quietly.
“Hohenheim.” Riza says, disgust evident in her voice. “He killed your father, and one of our friends.”
Ed looks down at the lightsaber in his hands, trying to steady out his breathing. His chest still hurt, but more with anger than sadness. He’d spent so much of his childhood hating a man that had been murdered. Why hadn’t Pinako told him? Was it really that difficult to explain to a child that the reason their parent wasn’t there was because they were dead ?
“I’m coming with you to Alderaan.” He says, looking up at the two others in the room, meeting Roy’s eyes. “I want you to train me, so I can avenge my father.”
+
The next three days for Alphonse are worse than he could have imagined.
He’s given up, at this point. He won’t give them information, but he doesn’t fight them either. Just lays there while they interrogate him, too tired to struggle when they hurt him. His back is covered in bruises and he knows there’s dried blood in his hair - he just can’t find the energy to care.
Everything was gone. His home was gone, his parents were gone. Al couldn’t even cry anymore.
He keeps thinking about how disappointed Izumi would be with him - she’d risked her life for years to form the Rebel Alliance, risked her life again to organize stealing these plans. All he’d done was fail her, and now she was gone. The hope that pushed him on had evaporated along with Alderaan, now the only thing left was anguish.
They’d kill him, soon enough. Either from a firing squad or Hohenheim - or maybe neither, maybe they didn’t care about him enough to even put out the courtesy of killing him like that, maybe they would just leave him here to starve. It’d already felt like days since anybody had opened the door to his cell.
He’d failed his part, but he knows RIza won’t fail hers.
Al thinks death might not be too bad.
+
“Where the fuck are we?” Ed asks, giving Mustang a look as they walked into a seedy looking cantina in Mos Eisley. It had looked like everything else from the outside, but the inside was… obnoxious. Annoying music, dark lights. He didn’t like it.
Edward didn’t like Mos Eisley in general - it was too big, there were too many people - it always gave him a headache, like he could feel all the people in such a small space.
Roy just laughed, walking closely to Hawkeye. “It’s a bar, Edward. We’re looking for a pilot.”
“And we’re going to find a pilot in here?”
“Where else?”
Ed scowled, looking over at Hawkeye for some help but finding the woman scanning the room instead, hand placed over her blaster as if she was expecting some kind of fight - which wasn’t unjustified, judging by the other patrons.
He was used to the people on Tatooine, knew how to fight and when to leave well alone, but the entire place just bugged Ed, like there was something else going on. Maybe it was his gut telling him he was suddenly alone, because when he turned around both Roy and Hawkeye were on opposite ends of the cantina, talking to various people while he stood there like an idiot.
“Glad we’re a team…” Ed trails off, talking to himself quietly. He rolls his eyes and sits down, leaning against the bar.
He thinks about how he left Pinako, guilt curling in his chest. It wasn’t even a proper goodbye - he’d just packed his things and left a note, not bothering to tell her where he was going. ‘I’m going to save the galaxy’ was all the note read, in Edward’s chicken scrawl handwriting.
It could've been worse - Ed could've just left without saying anything to the old woman. He's known a few friends who'd up and left their parents to go off on their own, it was better than the alternative. Tatooine operated in a kind of vacuum, Ed thinks, you either don't get sucked into it or you're here forever.
Roy taps him on the shoulder after a few minutes, “I found a pilot.”
“I’m Ling Yao, and this is Lan Fan,” The pilot says, gesturing to the girl sitting beside him. “Happy to be of service.”
Ed glares across the table, immediately disliking the man. “Happy to be taking our money you mean.”
Ling laughed, leaning back in his seat. “Well, that is one of the perks.”
They’d agreed on two thousand credits right off, with fifteen when they reach Alderaan. Roy hadn’t mentioned that they didn’t exactly have that kind of money - two thousand was about as much as Edward had in his bag, he’d left the rest of it for Pinako - but Ling didn’t know that, so they’d been set.
Ed scowled the entire way to the loading docks, trailing behind Riza and Hayate. He was hoping they’d get a decent pilot, maybe someone with an actual ship that could take them all the way without fear of breaking down. But the Millenium Falcon seemed like the biggest trash heap in the entire city.
“This thing looks like a piece of junk!” Ed says, throwing his arms out to the side. “I doubt we’ll even make it out of the landing docks in it.”
“Hey!” Lan Fan yells, speaking for the first time. “It might not look like much, but this is a Corellian military ship. So unless you’d like to try your luck with another crew, deal with it!”
Ed shrunk back, eyes wide - Lan Fan was scary. She reminded him of Winry, almost. In the way she defended her work. She reminded him less of Winry in the way that she had multiple blasters hooked on her belt and around her back, coupled with the automail arm that looked like it could tear out a piece of concrete from the ground.
He decided he liked her. Ling, less so.
“Let’s get moving, we’re wasting daylight.” The man says, reaching up to unlock the hatch. He walked on first, turning to face the group in the main hall. “Cockpit’s to your right, sleeping quarters are to your left and down the hall. We should be in the Alderaan system in about five hours, so you don’t have to get that cozy.”
“Thanks,” Roy says, moving to walk to the left.
The older man disappeared into the ship, along with Riza and Hayate, leaving Edward alone with Ling for the first time. He still had a scowl on his face, crossing his arms underneath his poncho.
“So, you’re a smuggler, aren’t you?” Ed asks, looking up slightly at the taller man.
“That’s right.” Ling says, “Mostly spices, sometimes people. Depends on the money.”
“I don’t want us getting into any trouble.”
Ling pats his shoulder, laughing and ignoring the way Ed hisses back. “Don’t you worry, kid. I told you, this thing can outrun Imps like nothing. It’s Corellian made, after all.”
“Yeah well, Corellia isn’t the most innocent planet out there.” Ed takes a step back, moving to follow Roy and Riza down the hallway. “Just get us to Alderaan in one piece, if you can manage.”