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[Ranma][Fanfic] Chasing the Wind - Part 3

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J. Austin Wilde

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Sep 25, 1996, 3:00:00 AM9/25/96

-Chasing the Wind-
By J. Austin Wilde
Fission Park Press

J. Austin Wilde, K.B.C.S.
Minister of Propaganda and
Super Critical Reactor Axe Man
Fission Park Press
jau...@aloha.net

Synopsis:

A group of scientists visit Nerima to study a 'magnetic disturbance'.
Ranma and Akane are caught in the middle of the 'disturbance' as it
arrives several days earlier than predicted. There are no immediate
effects, and the scientists leave Japan to continue their work.
Ranma and Akane begin experiencing nightmares. To their horror,
they learn that they are actually sharing their nightmares. This
progresses to the point where neither can get any sleep. Akane believes
Shampoo is responsible and confronts her in the Cat Cafe. Shampoo
professes her innocence, and Ranma takes Akane to see Doctor Tofu about
their problem.
Doctor Tofu examines them and discovers that something has skewed
their 'ki' in opposite respects to each other. Until a cure can be found,
Ranma and Akane must stay close to each at all times or the nightmares
will continue and they will become very ill. They conclude that the
'event' they were part of may be responsible. Ranma calls on his friend
from the War, Hiro Ohata, for help. Hiro is working for the scientists
as a kind of Man Friday.
Hiro replies to their plea by sending them passports, plane tickets,
and a sum of money to come to London, England.

Part Three:
Far From Home

Chapter One

"You're leaving the country?"
Ukyo couldn't have looked more surprised than she did now.
Ranma didn't blame her. He hardly believed it himself.
"We don't have much choice," he remarked.
Akane nodded in agreement.
"Why can't they just come back to Japan? I mean if they _are_ the
ones responsible for this, they should be the ones going to all the
trouble." Ukyo protested.
"This whole thing is probably just some kind of freak accident,"
Ranma replied. "And they _are_ going to a lot of trouble. They're
paying all of our expenses to travel to England."
"So when are you leaving?" Ukyo asked.
"Tonight," Ranma answered. "We catch our flight at nine o'clock."
"Tonight?"
"We still need to get ready, otherwise we would have left this
morning." Akane added.
"Nabiki's taking us shopping," Ranma finished.
"I'm not even going to ask about that," Ukyo said.
"We're kind of late as it is," Akane observed. "But we just wanted
to tell you what was happening."
Ranma reached into his pocket. He withdrew Hiro's personal card
and gave it to Ukyo.
"If you really need to reach us, this is Hiro's voice mail number.
And we'll call you when we get to England, don't worry."
Ukyo took both of their hands in hers. "You two have a safe trip.
Take care of yourselves."
"We'll be all right," Akane assured.
They left the okonomiyaki shop. Ukyo shook her head and wiped
down the counter for lack of anything better to do. The lunch crowd
wasn't due for another hour.
**Of course I'm going to worry about you two,** she thought sadly.

Ranma and Akane weren't a block from Ucchan's before running into
Shampoo and Mousse. The two were carrying a prodigious order of takeout
to the Mitsuhamas; whose appetites were legendary. Shampoo waved
cheerfully from behind her pile of takeout boxes.
"Nihao Ranma! Nihao Akane! You look much better today!"
Ranma waved back. Even Akane was civil to her erstwhile rival,
and smiled in return.
"Where you going this morning?" She asked them.
"We've gotta lotta stuff to do," Ranma started.
"And we're kind of late," Akane finished.
Undaunted, Shampoo bounced along past them. "Okay now. I see
you later perhaps?"
"Maybe," Ranma replied cheerfully. He wasn't sure if he should
tell her what their plans really entailed.
"Okay. Have good day!"
Mousse tried to wave his hand as he struggled beneath the lion's
share of the load.
"<They seem to be all right today,>" Shampoo observed in Chinese.
""
Mousse answered.

Nabiki was a little cross with them when they returned home.
"You could have told me you were going to visit Ukyo. We could
have cabbed over there and then got on our way."
"We just wanted to walk around the neighborhood once before
we left," Akane replied.
"You make it sound like you're never coming back," Nabiki
remarked.
"Who knows how long this is going to take?" Ranma asked in
defense of Akane.
"Oh, it doesn't matter now I suppose. Come on, let's get going."

* * *

"They received the invitation Professor," Hiro announced as he
came into the study with a silver tea service and two china cups.
He set the tray down on a table between them. He carefully poured
two cups of tea for them, splashing just a little milk and a lump of
sugar into McFogg's cup.
"Splendid," McFogg said as he sipped the tea.
Hiro sat down across from the Professor and sipped from his
own cup. "Do you really think they can help us?"
McFogg nodded. "Mister Clay seems to think so. I am inclined to
believe Mister Clay." He picked up a finger sandwich from the tray
and ate it in one bite.
"Hmm... Hiro, you've mastered the secret of the cucumber
sandwich."
"Thanks Professor," Hiro replied. He returned to the thought
that was utmost in his mind. "Do you think we can help _them?_"
McFogg nodded again. "I don't see why not."
"That's good. Saotome's a good friend, and the way he sounded
on my voice mail message, he sounded in pretty dire straits."
McFogg ate another sandwich and patted Hiro's arm. "Fear not
Mister Ohata. Your friends will be fine. By the by, how did you come
to know this Mister Saotome and his fiancee?"
"He and I were in the same platoon in Korea. We went through
a lot of action together. I met Akane-chan when I came over to visit."
McFogg nodded and drew his pipe from his waistcoat. The dis-
mantling of the former North Korea's war machine continued as American
and South Korean forces maintained the peace. UN Inspectors uncovered
more and more of the former communist country's nuclear weapons program
every day.
"Ah yes. You and he were in Operation Chancellor together?"
"Yep. Us and this other guy named Hibiki. We were the only ones
to make it out of our team."
"Then I am to assume that your friend Saotome is quite resourceful?"
"Sure is."
"And his fiancee?"
Hiro thought a moment about Akane. He really didn't know her
that well. "She's a...What's that word?...Spitfire...She's a real
spitfire. They're perfect for each other."
"That's a good thing then. This might not be easy for them."

* * *

"Well?" Ranma asked.
Nabiki and Akane looked him over thoroughly. Both women smiled
with satisfaction at what they beheld.
"If you looked any sharper, they'd have to wrap you up in a sword
sheath," Nabiki said proudly.
Ranma was wearing a charcoal colored cashmere suit from Hong Kong
with white silk shirt and wine colored silk tie also from Hong Kong. Wine
suspenders added another flash of color, and his black leather Italian
shoes gleamed in the soft light of the Ginza boutique. Nabiki fluffed at
his pigtail, eyeing it from several angles.
"I was a bit worried about the pigtail, but no, it suits you even in
a suit."
Ranma shrugged. "Whatever you say."
He looked at Akane. "What do you think?"
Akane looked him over again. **He looks so handsome! I think I
liked him in his uniform better, but oh wow!**
"You look good," she said evenly.
Nabiki brushed at his lapel. "Don't mind her, I don't think she's
being entirely honest with you anyway." She winked at Akane.
Ranma scratched the top of his head. "I hope so, how much is this
going to cost?"
Nabiki dismissed him with a wave of her hand. "Better that you
didn't know. In any case you can't afford to make a habit of dressing
like this every day."
The tailor returned with several swatches of material. Nabiki picked
out several colors and patterns and the tailor returned to the back of
the shop. A second tailor appeared and took some alteration
measurements, pinning them in place on the clothing.
"We can have this ready for you in an hour Miss Tendo," the tailor
announced.
"No need to rush on our account," Nabiki offered. "We'll be shopping
for some time to come."
The tailor carefully removed the suit coat as an assistant directed
Ranma back to the dressing room to collect the remainder.
"As you wish, Miss Tendo."
Ranma returned dressed in his usual red Chinese shirt and black
trousers.
"Whew, I never thought I'd get out of that stuff," he remarked.
"Now what?"
Nabiki smiled. "Well... Since we have to wait on the alterations, I
thought we should take care of your fiancee next."
"Wait on the alterations? I thought you said I looked good as I was?"
Nabiki clucked disparagingly, "My dear Ranma, those alterations
will _only_ bring out that stunning physique of yours. Remember: If
you have it, flaunt it! Now shall we see to Akane?"
Ranma sighed and followed them out of the boutique. Little did he
realize the true horror he was getting himself into.

**I shoulda known...**He thought sadly. He had been waiting for
two hours, and they hadn't gotten as far as deciding on a pair of shoes
yet! **Women...!**
"What do you think?" Akane asked him for about the thousandth
time.
**Like I have any clue about women's fashions,** he thought
bitterly. **It's not like they're gonna listen to me anyway.**
"It looks great," he answered for about the thousandth time.
"You really think so?" Akane asked. "I mean the color isn't _quite_
what I was looking for." She held up a dress with the shoes. "I mean
I like them, but they don't quite go with this dress."
"You haven't even decided on the dress yet, so how can you knock
the shoes?" Ranma replied. His thin veneer of patience was starting to
wear thinner.
Akane was oblivious to his question. Nabiki had just shown her this
dress that was _so darling!_
Ranma just buried his face in his hands and tried to endure it all.

* * *

Ranma had forgotten how much he hated good-byes. His parents
were there making a fuss over him, Mister Tendo was carrying on, it
was just too much to deal with. He just wanted to get on the plane and
get this over with. The faster they were cured, the faster they could
return home.
Kasumi had been especially sweet in getting their clothes and
sundries ready and packed. Nabiki had found them a bargain on a good
looking set of luggage. He supposed carrying his kit bag would have
looked alittle out of place with the suit.
At last the family said their good-byes and Nabiki packed them into
a taxi to take them on the long ride to Narita International Airport.
Akane was already showing a little fatigue, and lay her head upon his
shoulder.
When they arrived he paid the cabbie in cash, nearly the last of the
yen Hiro had sent. They wouldn't be in Japan for much longer anyway.
Akane had their boarding passes and checked their luggage, leaving him
to puzzle his way through a map of the massive Narita complex to find
their terminal and gate.
He was still puzzling this when Akane came up from behind, pointed
directly to the desired gate, and dragged him away by the sleeve.
"I can't imagine how you ever made it in the army when you can't
even read a map," she scolded. "You'd think you were Ryoga or
something."
He bit back a rebuttal, deciding that he'd get even later. She was
bound to screw up sooner or later.
When they reached their gate, they were just boarding the First
Class passengers. Ranma followed Akane down the jet way as the
roar of departing flights thundered in the night. It reminded him of
fighters on bombing runs. He found himself waiting for the flash and
howl of SAMs to rise in challenge.
"What is it?" Akane asked.
Ranma returned to reality. "Nothing," he replied idly. **Gonna take
awhile I guess.**
They found their seats and stowed their few carry-ons. Akane had
a portable CD player in her purse, and she put the headphones on.
**Not another Zard album!** Ranma thought in horror. **It's
gonna be a long flight...**
Somewhere aft came the bustle of the Business and Coach Class
passengers boarding. A flight attendant thoughtfully drew the curtains
that separated First Class from the rest of the aircraft. The lights
shifted, indicating that the Boeing 747 was starting its four turbofan
engines.
The engines howled up to idle speed, barely a dull whine from the
quiet of the forward part of the cabin. He could feel them through the
deck. He could also feel the ground crew slamming the cargo doors
shut and the sounds of the hydraulic plant cycling the control surfaces
in preflight.
The lights shifted again, they were on internal power now. A flight
attendant took up her station for the preflight safety brief. Flying made
him a little nervous, and he found he was rapt with attention. Akane
was reading one of the in-flight magazines.
The JAL 747 taxied to the active runway, waiting its turn in the
queue as other jets roared off into the night. Ranma checked his seat
belt fastened again. Akane was now asleep beside him, her headphones
had fallen down around her neck.
The engines spun up to full power, and the 747 began to pick up
speed. They seemed to hang there not quite on the ground and not
quite in the air for what seemed an eternity, and for that eternity of
three seconds Ranma was sure they weren't going to make it. Despite
his doomsaying, the jetliner surged aloft, climbing higher and turning
out towards the sea as the flaps retracted with servomotor whines.
He looked out the window to the blaze of lights that was Tokyo.
He had no idea where Nerima was in all of that yellow and white light,
only that it was down there somewhere. The JAL 747 adjusted course,
still climbing to cruise altitude, and headed west over the Pacific Ocean.

Chapter Two

Of all the people Ukyo expected to see coming into her shop just
before closing time, she was sure Tatewaki Kuno wasn't one of them.
The swordsman had Nabiki Tendo in tow, although knowing Nabiki it
was tough to determine who was towing whom. The kendoist began
to take a seat at a booth, but Nabiki collared him and brought him to
the counter.
"Hey, Ukyo!" Nabiki greeted.
Ukyo smiled at the way she handled Kuno. "Good Evening Nabiki.
What can I get for you?"
Nabiki looked at Kuno, who had that shell-shocked look that he
affected whenever he dealt with Nabiki on uneven terms, which was
most of the time. She looked back to Ukyo and smiled.
"Two of your super deluxe with absolutely everything and a couple
cokes."
Ukyo poured out the batter and set to work, spatulas flying.
"Tell me again why we must take our victuals in this establishment
when I so generously offered a locale more, shall we say, upscale?"
Kuno asked in his flowery manner of speaking.
Ukyo ignored the slight for Nabiki's sake.
"Is there a problem with Ucchan's?" Nabiki asked innocently.
Kuno caught the glint of heat death in Ukyo's eyes and chose his
words carefully.
"Not at all," he began. Ukyo appeared to calm slightly. "It merely
strikes me as peculiar that you would not take advantage of my
generosity -as you have so often in times past."
Nabiki scoffed. "Nonsense Kuno-baby. You are a prince among
men; it would have been ungracious of me to refuse such generosity."
Kuno thought about this for a minute.
"Then why, pray tell, are you doing it now?"
Nabiki gave him a look she reserved for the purely simple-minded.
"Oh the things I do for you Kuno-baby!" She lamented. "You asked
me where you could find your precious Pig-Tailed Girl tonight and I
take you to the place she likes to frequent, and now you insult me!"
Ukyo clucked disapprovingly.
Kuno's face reddened in shame.
"Forgive me Nabiki Tendo," he implored. "I had no idea that my
Lovely Goddess blessed this establishment with her presence!"
Nabiki twisted the knife. "I'm sure you could make it up to me," she
said, leaving her statement open-ended.
Kuno sighed tiredly. "Yes Nabiki Tendo?" He tensed for the blow.
"Well, there is this all night ice cream shoppe a few blocks from
here. They make the best milk shakes."
"They sure do," Ukyo added. Seeing Kuno squirm was redress
enough for his earlier unflattering remark.
"Very well," he said. Ukyo placed his okonomiyaki smartly before
him, and he began to eat with little vigor.
Nabiki on the other hand ate with abandon. The best okonomiyaki
was the kind someone else paid for.
Ukyo finished wiping down the counter and the floors as Nabiki
and Kuno ate. Nabiki carried on a chatty conversation with Ukyo as
she worked to close up. Kuno sat stoically and finished his now cold
okonomiyaki.
"I finally took the plunge," Ukyo said happily.
"Oh yeah?" Nabiki asked.
"Yup. I'm going on vacation!"
Nabiki gave her a puzzled look. "Who's going to run the shop?"
Ukyo flashed her a 'V' with her fingers. "I sweet talked a cousin of
mine to take over for a couple weeks. Dad says he needs the business
experience, but also that he's a pretty good okonomiyaki cook in his
own right. I've needed some time off for so long now, it'll be good
to get away."
"Where are you going?"
"Guam! I know it's not Hawaii or anything, but the beach around
here is getting old, and I really didn't feel like going to Okinawa. I
just wanted to get away from Japan for awhile. I'm going to take scuba
diving lessons while I'm there."
Nabiki nodded approvingly, "I've heard there's lots of good diving
spots there. But where did you get the money to afford a trip like that?
I thought you were saving up to go to school?"
Ukyo smiled. "You know those scientists that were here, the ones
that messed up Akane and Ranma...?"
Kuno's ears perked up at this.
"Well they must not have known how much money they were
throwing around, because they kept leaving a lot more than they owed
on the tables, and they ate here every day! We're talking an extra two
weeks of business for nothing! It won't take much from my savings to
make up the difference, and with my cousin Eiji running the place while
I'm gone I won't be losing any business."
Nabiki thought about that. "Yeah, that sounds like them all right,"
she said, thinking about the ridiculous sum of money Hiro had sent
Ranma. **Very well heeled indeed.**
Kuno decided to interject.
"What did you say pertaining to Saotome and the sweet Akane
Tendo?" he asked Ukyo.
Ukyo flashed a look to Nabiki. Nabiki shrugged in reply.
"You mean you didn't hear?" She asked him.
"Little in the way of knowledge doth slip through my grasp fair
Ukyo, but in truth this minutiae did. I implore you, what sayeth you?"
"Well I'm only getting this second hand, but I guess some westerners
were conducting a science experiment in the neighborhood, and Ranma
and Akane got caught up in the middle of it. Their ki has been 'thrown
out of whack' to hear Ranma tell it. Now they have all sorts of
nightmares. They just flew to England tonight to see if there was a
cure for their problem."
Kuno looked to Nabiki for confirmation.
"That about sums it up Kuno-baby. I put them on a plane about
two hours ago."
"Their lives are not in danger are they?" he asked.
Nabiki was starting to feel puzzled. **What does old Kuno-baby
care about Ranma?**
"I'm not sure, it's possible I guess."
Kuno lifted his handsome face to the heavens, as if some epiphany
would suddenly descend upon him.
"Oh curse you Saotome!" He cried. "Thou hast fled from me in thy
hour of need, heedless of my oath! Dost thou wish to make mockery
of my just debt?! Curse you and curse me for my tardiness to these
affairs!"
"Huh?" Nabiki and Ukyo said in unison.
He took hold of Nabiki's hand and dragged her toward the door.
"What the hell's going on Kuno?" Nabiki yelled.
"Haste! Make haste!" Kuno cried. "To England's fair shores, the
White Cliffs of Dover beckon! Onward we speed into the night on this;
Duty's Errand and Honor's Right!"
They made it as far as the door when two men walked in.
"I'm terribly sorry, but we're closed for the evening!" Ukyo called
to them.
The two raised small clear poly bottles and jetted lines of a watery
liquid into Kuno and Nabiki's eyes. Both spluttered cries of surprise
and dropped like stones to the floor, twitching for a few seconds before
lying still.
Ukyo didn't like the looks of this one bit. Her huge spatula was
drawn in her hand and ready at high guard.
"I don't know who you clowns are, but that was a big mistake!" She
cried.
They casually jetted more of the liquid at her. She used her giant
spatula as a shield, jumping over the counter to attack them. A brace
of smaller spatulas rippled from her free hand, pinning one of the two
to the wall. She was just raising her giant spatula to swat the other
down when the liquid flecked upon it dribbled down over her bare skin.
The effects were nearly immediate. She felt an icy sensation run
down her arm, numbing and paralyzing. The ice quickly reached her
heart and she swooned to her knees. The man looked at her passively,
waiting for her to fall. It was then that she noticed the white surgical
gloves each man wore.
She fell at his feet. Her spatula clattered uselessly beside her. Her
long fall of dark brown hair covered her face, billowing slightly with
her deep even breaths.
A third man walked in. He was a giant of a man, towering over six
and a half feet tall. Thick curly black hair was piled atop a bullet
shaped head that seemed to protrude directly from his linebacker's
shoulders without the trivialities of a neck.
"<This one seems to have given you trouble, Misha.>" He observed,
gesturing to the fallen Ukyo.
"<There was no trouble.>" The one standing before Ukyo replied.
The big man pointed to the second man, who was pulling himself
free of Ukyo's spatulas. ""
he observed dryly. "<Make this quick, this is not a place used to
disturbances I think.>"
"<Shall we take all three?>" Misha asked.
"<We are only here for the two women, but now it seems this fellow
shall accompany them. We must keep things tidy, eh?>"
"<Yes we must,>" Misha replied. "<If not for this simple fact, I
would not be using such a detestable substance.>" He held up the clear
bottle for emphasis.
"<Our little DMSO/Pentobarbital Sodium cocktail does not agree
with you?>" The big man asked Misha.
"" Misha replied. He
stooped to monitor Ukyo's pulse. "An overdose may cause central
nervous system depression to the point of death. And as for the
precautions _we_ must take..."
"<Perhaps, but they are easier to carry than a dart gun. Even the
Japanese ask questions.>"
"<And will these be any easier to move through a diplomatic
pouch?>" Dmitri asked. He had Nabiki in a fireman's carry.
"<That is not your concern Dmitri. _I_ am your concern. Now
finish this.>" The big man said ominously. Neither Misha nor Dmitri
wished to further incense him.
They carried Nabiki, Kuno and Ukyo into a waiting car, a large
Zil that was terribly unsuited to the narrow streets of Tokyo. The
large man searched Ukyo's pockets, withdrawing her keys. They tidied
the restaurant up, turned off the griddles and the lights and locked the
doors. The Zil pulled out into the street, and was gone by the time a
passing policeman on a bicycle came by to check on Ucchan's.
**All closed up. Everything looks quiet.** He thought, and pedaled
off on his beat.

* * *

"If I have anything to say about it, I'm never gonna set foot in LAX
again," Ranma vowed.
Akane nodded in agreement. British Airways Flight 1007 with
service to New York and London bucked in the air as the jetliner
passed through turbulent air over the Sierra Nevadas. The ruddy arid
mountains gave way to the great salt flats and sun hardened earth of
the Mojave Desert. Thin and wispy clouds scudded below them.
Tiny white lines of roads criss-crossed the yellows and browns of
the wastes.
The fasten seatbelts light flicked on with a soft gonging tone as the
jetliner bucked again. The voice of the Captain issued from the speakers
in his unperturbed British accent assuring his passengers that they would
clear the turbulence quickly and wouldn't you please remain seated for
just a little longer.
Ranma continued to stew about Los Angeles International Airport,
LAX. They had to collect their baggage, clear US Customs, arrange
passage on the next British Airways flight to London, and actually make
their flight on time. Their Diplomatic Visas spared them any trouble
with Customs; but then they were so overworked that Ranma doubted
they would have given them any trouble without the visas.
LAX itself was only easily accessible if you remained on the same
carrier. Changing from Japan Air Lines to British Airways meant
walking a good three quarters of a mile from one terminal to the other
through a maze of tunnels. There were little carts that ferried passengers
to and fro, but Ranma couldn't get any of them to stop for him and
Akane. His first exposure to Americans in their own country was less
than flattering to say the least. Then again, it might have just been LA.
He had slept a little on the seemingly endless flight from Tokyo to
Honolulu, had snoozed intermittently on the way to LA, and was now
looking forward to another six hours in the air to reach New York's La
Guardia Airport for a fuel and passenger layover prior to the final hop
across the Atlantic. In other words he was feeling cramped, tired,
bored, and grouchy. Akane on the other hand had endured the flight
with angelic patience, a fact which puzzled him. Patience had never
been one of Akane's strong suits.
"This turbulence is starting to bug me," he groused.
Akane grinned, "Oh I dunno, I think it's kind of fun!"
Ranma made a face as if he'd suddenly tasted something awful.
"You would."
"Oh come on, this is great! We're on vacation, and there isn't
anyone else but the two of us. No Happosai to avoid, no Kuno to
fight, no Shampoo with all of her tricks. Best of all, this is free!"
**What happened to being nervous about leaving home?**
"Is that how you look at this?" He retorted. "A vacation? We're
doing this so we don't have to spend the rest of our lives tethered to
each other."
Akane shot him an angry look.
"What?" He asked when she didn't say anything. She turned away
and stared forward at the seat in front of her.
"Aw come on, now what did I do?" He asked her.
She remained stubbornly silent.
"Come on Akane. What ever it was I said or did, I'm sorry. Okay?"
She picked up a magazine she had purchased in the Honolulu
Airport and began to thumb through it, taking great pains to ignore
him as she did so.
"Is this the part where you stop speaking to me for three days?" He
asked.
Silence.
"I guess so," he remarked tiredly.
**In spite of everything we can't ever seem to get along for very
long... Hot and cold, that's what we are to each other,** he observed
quietly. **I'd settle for a nice comfy warm, but I have no idea how to
do it.**
He continued to dwell on such thoughts for awhile. He looked
once at her as she read the magazine. She had devoured the thing
during their layover in Honolulu, so he wondered just what it was that
was so interesting that she would read it again. Unless it was just
boredom, he decided it was simply her way of getting back at him for
whatever he had said to make her angry.
**Well you tried to apologize, so what else can you do?** He
asked himself. The answer came with long experience in these
matters. **Just ride out Hurricane Akane till she blows over again,
I guess.**
A meal came, he ate it with absolutely no zeal. A movie was shown,
he watched it because he had nothing else to do and because he was
going to need the exposure to English very soon. He slept for another
hour before touching down in New York. The layover seemed endless,
but eventually they were airborne for the last leg of the trip. It was
night again, and the Atlantic Ocean was consuming blackness flecked with
tiny jewels of reflected moonlight.
Another six hours in the air. Akane had curled up to a novel she
had purchased in a La Guardia bookshop. Her CD player sat on her
lap atop the royal blue blanket she had wrapped herself in. She was
engrossed in the novel, and didn't notice the way he looked wistfully
at her.
He tried to sleep, but he was too restless to do so. Instead he left
his seat for another walk up to the upper deck lounge of the 747. A
few people played cards and moved little colored pegs across a board.
He couldn't remember what the game was called.
A young woman motioned for him to come over. She was
Caucasian, with wavy brown hair that was pulled into a tight chignon
at the base of her neck. Her eyes were a curious gray-green that
caught the yellow light of the lounge's lamps in bright flashes of fire.
Her skin had an odd complexion to it as well, as if there was a thin oil
on water film embossed upon it. She was thin of face and fine of
features, but otherwise pretty to look at.
He really had nothing else to do, and so he joined her at the bar.
The bartender took his heavily accented request for a glass of water
with a friendly nod. The woman chuckled softly.
"<First time abroad?>" She asked him. He couldn't place her accent.
"<Yes,>" he answered. "<Is it obvious?>"
She chuckled again. "<Travel doesn't seem to agree with you,>" she
remarked.
"<It has been a long trip,>" he replied. He wondered if he was
butchering the language he was trying to speak.
""
He sipped from the plastic cup of ice water the bartender placed
at his elbow. **Funny, I don't remember seeing _you_ any of those
times,** he thought.
"<If you don't mind my asking, what brings you to London?>" She
asked in the silence that followed.
"" He said it like he was reciting a
lesson out of high school English class. Hopefully she would tire of his
shaky English and leave him alone.
She smiled at him instead.
"Would you be more comfortable if we conversed in a language
more familiar?" She asked sweetly in flawless Japanese.
That had him speechless for a moment.
"Um, sure..." He replied.
"Wonderful," she enthused. "My name is Anazali, but please call
me Ana."
"Just Ana?" He asked. **What kind of gaijin name was that?**
"Just Ana."
Ranma remembered his manners. "My name is Saotome Ranma."
"May I call you Ranma, or would you prefer Mister Saotome?"
Ana asked.
**Mister Saotome? Nah, sounds too much like my old man.**
"Ranma is fine," he answered.
She leaned a little closer. He wasn't sure if she was coming on to
him or not.
"Are you alone?"
"I'm traveling with my fiancee," he replied with enough pride as to
hopefully discourage her.
She nodded approvingly, which made him feel a little more
comfortable about her.
"A vacation then?" She asked.
He thought about what Akane had said then, and how he had
rebuked her.
"Sort of," he replied. He felt guilty again about what he had said to
Akane, and she read it in his voice.
"Oh forgive me. I didn't mean to pry, but it seems as if I've done
enough already." She excused herself and left the lounge.
Ranma scratched his head in puzzlement.
Akane had drifted off to sleep again, as had most of the First Class
cabin. He resolved to at least try and go to sleep, if only to make the
time pass quicker. He pulled a blanket over himself and settled back in
his seat. Akane's head lolled onto his shoulder, and for the first time
since they'd left Los Angeles did he feel at peace. Sleep found him
shortly.

* * *

Ukyo was the first to wake up. She had a terrible case of cotton
mouth, which she quickly discovered was due to the heavy cloth gag
tightly wrapped about her head. To her chagrin she also realized that
her hands and feet were bound, and had since gone all pins and needles
on her.
She tried to work herself upright. Nabiki and Kuno were still out
cold. They too were bound and gagged. She didn't have a clue where
they were; only that it was cold, dark, and there was a very
discomforting roaring noise outside.
The tiny space they occupied lurched suddenly to the side. She
rolled over Kuno and sprawled against the far wall, which was curved.
The space leveled out, and in that moment she realized they were on
board an airplane. Probably the luggage compartment.
There was a rattling sound above her, and light spilled violently
into the space. She played asleep as a voice rumbled in some thick
language she didn't understand.
"<They are still asleep,>" the voice grumbled.
"<Shall we loosen their bonds? This long without adequate
circulation is not good for the limbs.>" Another voice declared.
"<They shall keep until we reach the dacha.>" The first replied.
The door above Ukyo slammed shut, leaving her with only the
dim light of a single 25 watt bulb to see by.
She tried at her bonds. Her limbs didn't want to respond, and
when they did she found she didn't have much strength in them. After
some time she worked her gag loose. Now her mouth had a very
garlicky taste in it, no doubt the side effects of whatever they had
used to drug her.
**But who the hell are They?** She wondered angrily. **And
what do they want with us?**
Nabiki stirred beside her. She looked up to see Ukyo straining
again at her bonds.
She spat out the gag.
"Ukyo? You okay?"
Ukyo shook her head. "No, I'm not. How about you?"
"My arms and legs are asleep, and my head is killing me, but other
than that I'm fine," she remarked. "Where are we?"
"A jet I think," Ukyo replied.
"Where are we going?"
"I don't know. I just woke up, myself."
Nabiki worked her way closer to Ukyo. "Any ideas on who's
kidnapped us? What they want?"
Ukyo shook her head. "I heard them talking, but I can't understand
the language."
Nabiki blew her breath out sadly. "Then I guess we wait. The one
thing we have going for us is whoever they are, they don't want us
dead."
"Yet," Ukyo replied.
"Well in the meantime, can you reach my hands? Maybe get them
free?"
Ukyo wiggled around to look at Nabiki's hands. Some kind of
fibrous packing tape bound them securely at the wrists.
"I could work at it," she said after a moment. She wasn't thrilled
with the idea of what she would have to do to get Nabiki free, but if it
meant getting her own limbs free...
She began to work at the tape with her teeth. The stuff was strong
and didn't want to tear cleanly. It also tasted horrible.
"Yick!" She spat.
"Problem?" Nabiki asked.
"I can't get this stuff to tear," Ukyo whispered hoarsely.
Nabiki looked around the small compartment. **There's got to be
something here we can use.**
They searched for a few moments in vain. The door above them
opened, catching them unawares. As the harsh light spilled down upon
them they froze, but it was too late.
"<It seems they have awoken,>" one of the men said.
"<Take care of it,>" the other admonished.
Another jet of cold liquid lanced down at them. They felt it's icy
touch boring through their skin at once, and both gasped in shock.
Then the drugs took effect and they settled down against each other
and went to sleep.
"<What about the third?>"
"<He sleeps the sleep of the righteous,>" the first observed.
"<Hit him again anyway. We can't play at favorites.>"
He gave Kuno a small dose.
"<Do you have another set of Diprivan injections prepared for
them?>" The big man asked.
"<Yes, but I want to wait on adminstering them. I don't want to
spend the next hour monitoring their vitals because you don't feel they
have been sedated sufficiently.>"
"<Watch your tone, Misha,>" the big man advised.

Chapter Three

Heathrow Airport was shrouded in gloom. Rain fell in a steady
patter against the bay windows in counter melody to the roar of jets
and the sounds of taxi and bus traffic. Londoners scuttled to and fro
with their umbrellas, so used to the weather as to ignore it.
Ranma was doing no such thing. The last thing he needed was to
change into a girl right now. Unfortunately the idea of bringing an
umbrella along had escaped them.
"Great. Just great," he mumbled. "Now what?"
Akane huffed something under her breath.
Ranma was getting tired of Akane's cold shoulder. "What?" He
asked caustically.
She shot a harsh look at him. "I can't believe you sometimes!" She
spat. "Can't you look on the bright side of anything?"
Ranma made a show of observing the heavy dark clouds and the
constant drizzle of rain. "There's a bright side here? I must've missed
it for all the rain."
"Ohh!" Akane replied in ire. Her fists were balled to strike.
"Hey there you are!" Hiro called from behind them.
They spun around to see him standing with an oversized umbrella
in his hand. He was wearing blue jeans and a thin argyle sweater. A
grey tweed cap was perched atop his head.
"I was having trouble finding you. Then I heard you arguing.
Japanese is pretty distinctive around here." He gestured around him.
People were just starting to realize that the show was over and were
clearing off.
Hiro cracked a grin and looked them over.
"Nice threads Saotome! Let me guess, Nabiki picked it out, right?"
Ranma looked down at himself. "Uh, right."
Hiro looked over Akane and smiled in approval. "You're looking
radiant," he observed to her.
Akane smiled in return. "Thank you Hiro. At least _someone_
noticed."
Ranma clicked his tongue, but otherwise stayed in check.
Hiro grabbed Akane's luggage. "Ah come on, that's just the jet-lag
talking. We need to get you back to the house and freshened up a bit.
You'll be feeling better in no time, I promise."
He started off without them. Ranma and Akane hurried to catch up.
They both huddled close to him under the umbrella. A Rolls Royce
Silver Ghost sat in reserved parking.
"A woulda brought the Jag', but I think we'd have to ditch the
luggage to fit you inside." Hiro remarked. He opened the trunk and
placed their luggage carefully inside. Then he opened the door for
Akane.
She stepped in, and Hiro quickly collared Ranma and sent him in

to sit next to her before the martial artist could flee to the passenger
side front.
"There you go," Hiro said as he shut the door. "Play nice now."
He settled into the driver's seat.
"The good thing about England is that they know what side of the
road to drive on," he said as he keyed the ignition.
"And the bad thing?" Akane asked.
"You can't find Japanese food here to save your life. I hope you
like Western."
He drove them far out of the city and into the rolling countryside.
The rain had stopped and the sun peeked from behind the thinning
clouds. After an hour he whipped the Silver Ghost around onto a side
road in classic Hiro Ohata fashion, sending Akane into Ranma's lap
with cry of surprise.
"Yeah, some things haven't changed." Ranma said with a smirk.
Akane sat up and moved back to her side of the car.
"We're almost there," Hiro called from the front.
A huge green meadow was on either side of the cobblestone side
road. Lines of trees marked out the ends of the field in the distance.
Two decaying Quonset huts rusted peacefully nearby. A faded white
star upon a blue circle topped one of the huts.
"What was this place?" Ranma asked.
Hiro followed the road into a turn. "This was an airfield during the
Blitz," he replied. "First the British used it for fighters, and then the
Americans took over and flew B-17s and launched gliders for the
invasions of France and Holland. Most of it's torn down now. Just
those two rusty hangars and a couple of Horsa and Waco glider
wrecks in back."
Akane looked out the window. "That windsock looks pretty new,"
she observed. The bright orange windsock fluttered in the breeze.
Hiro pointed to a Bell JetRanger sitting in the distance. "The place
is still used as an airfield by the Professor. Mostly helicopters, but we
also retain a Catalina pilot and his plane. The guy's name is Durango,
and if you think my driving's nuts wait 'till you fly with him!"
"I'll pass," Ranma said quickly.
Hiro pulled up to a very large and comfortable looking three-story
mansion. Smoke wafted from a stone chimney. Several gardeners
dared to venture out in their galoshes and tend to a flower bed by the
front door.
"Here we are," he said to them.
He stopped the car and helped Akane out onto the stone walkway.
He collected all of the luggage, including Ranma's, and led them to the
door. A servant opened it for them, and another took their coats.
Ranma and Akane started to take off their shoes.
Hiro shook his head.
"Don't worry about it. Keep them on," he advised in Japanese.
The two shrugged in apology and left their shoes on. Hiro continued
into the foyer.
"I'll show you to your rooms and then I have to put the car in the
garage. Get settled in the rooms, and if you need anything, forgot
anything, just let me know."
He led them up a grand stairwell in the foyer, past the second floor
landing, and turned left on the third floor. The floors were plushly
carpeted, seeming to soak up the sounds of their footsteps as they
walked. The oak paneled walls were hung with Impressionist paintings by
Degas and Renoir, several works by Turner, family portraits, old
coats-of-arms, and with assorted bits of medieval armor and weaponry.
Their rooms were side by side with lovely southern exposures and
large French windows to take advantage of it. A four poster bed was laden
with quilts and large satin lined pillows. Heavy oak dressers, wardrobes
and other furniture were tastefully arranged about the spacious room. The
walls were papered in soft blues and cream.
"Comfy?" Hiro asked.
Akane nodded. "It'll do," she remarked slowly.
"You'll get used to it soon enough," Hiro said with a laugh. "I'll
be back in a few minutes!" He left them to themselves.
"Well, we're here." Ranma said.
"Yep," Akane replied.
"It's not so bad."
"Nope."
Ranma looked about the room. "So uh, which room do you want?"
Akane walked to the window and gazed out upon the meadow.
"Whichever."
"Well go ahead and pick one, I'll take whichever one you don't want."
"This is fine," she replied, still looking out the window.
He waited a few minutes, deciding if he should interrupt her again.
"Akane?"
"Yes?"
"Um, are we on speaking terms again?"
"Maybe."
Ranma sighed. The jet-lag was beginning to show on him. "Okay.
I'll go and unpack I guess."
He left her without another word and took his luggage to the other
room, which was done in dark reds and golds. He would have figured
Akane for choosing this room instead of the more sedate one she now
occupied. He opened his suitcases and began unpacking his things.
Kasumi had packed just about everything he owned, which wasn't much
when you thought about it. She had even packed his old camouflage jacket,
which he had taken to wearing even after his discharge because it had
grown on him.
**She must have remembered me always wearing it around the
house,** he mused.
He decided to change out of his suit. It might have looked good
on him, but he just didn't feel right wearing it. It wasn't him. He set
his expensive hand tailored clothes upon several hangers in the
wardrobe and pulled on a green shirt and baggy black trousers. His
Italian shoes found a home in a dresser drawer and his black slippers
now adorned his feet -even if they were a bit worn out.
He looked at the jacket again. He laughed to himself as he ran his
fingers along the neat stitches of olive drab thread where Kasumi had
thoughtfully mended the bullet hole tear on his left sleeve and the little
rents where shrubs and shrapnel had cut close. His corporal's stripes
were already faded on his sleeve as was his name tag embroidered
above the breast pocket.
**What the heck...** he thought. He put the jacket on. The place
felt like home already.
Hiro returned then and looked him over.
"I was gonna suggest a change of clothes, but it seems you've
second-guessed me."
Ranma brushed at his jacket. "Yeah, that suit was starting to bother
me."
"That's okay. This place is pretty casual most of the time. The
only time you have to be dressed up is dinner. The Professor's pretty
strict about that."
"So when are we gonna see the Professor?" Ranma asked. "I was
hoping we could get this cure taken care of."
Hiro gave him a 'thumbs up'. "Don't you worry my friend, you're
in good hands."
"So what's he going to do?"
Hiro shrugged. "I have no idea." He started out the door to collect
Akane. Ranma followed after him.
Akane had changed as well. She was wearing a floral print dress
and sandals. It seemed a little strange to be wearing shoes in the house,
but she figured she could get used to it.
She fell in line with Hiro and Ranma, noting how the two were
unconsciously in step with each other as they walked.
"The Professor's waiting to meet you in the study. He'll want to
ask you a few more questions like he did in Japan, maybe run a few
simple medical tests, that kind of thing." Hiro said to them.
Professor McFogg, Ferguson, Katy Price and Mr. Clay were
waiting in the study. Old maps, game trophies, and wildlife paintings
filled the dark oak paneled walls. One entire wall was given over to
books, from oak floor to paneled ceiling. Persian rugs were placed
beneath tables and desks and a carved ivory and glass hookah from
India sat in the corner.
The Professor and his company stood politely in greeting for them.
"<Ah, our guests have arrived.>" McFogg said warmly. "<Welcome
to my home! I trust you had as pleasant a trip as can be had from
Tokyo?>"
They both bowed politely.
McFogg offered them a comfy black leather loveseat to sit upon.
"<Please sit and make yourselves comfortable. I thought we should
take a light lunch in the study and discuss your problem together.>"
They sat down next to each other, and Hiro went off to fetch the
servants.
Ferguson wasted no time in speaking.
"<You say that you're having nightmares?>" He asked.
"<Both of us,>" Ranma answered.
"<The same nightmares at the same time,>" Akane added.
Ferguson's brow crinkled in thought. Clay seemed to nod knowingly.
"<Do you dream of any places you've never been?>" Clay asked.
Katy clucked something under her breath at this.
"<Yes,>" they replied in unison.
"<Any places you can remember?>"
Ranma didn't seem to, but Akane was quick to reply.
""
Clay nodded again.
"<Interesting,>" Ferguson noted. "<The area around the Eiffel
Tower _has_ been classified as an active site. Three lines converge
there.>" He consulted a laptop computer. "<No, I was wrong, _five_
lines converge there.>"
"<That's why they built it where they did,>" Clay reminded him.
Katy rolled her eyes.
"<What's all this about 'lines'?>" Ranma asked. "<What kind of
'lines'?>"
McFogg took a puff from his pipe. "<The Earth is criss-crossed
with lines of electromagnetic energy. We don't quite understand why
these lines appear; in fact the whole idea clashes with the accepted
theories of the Earth's electromagnetism as generated by the motion
of it's molten internals.>"
"<Is that what happened to us?>" Akane asked. "<We stepped into
the middle of a bunch of these lines?>"
"<These lines of force can appear and disappear at intervals,>"
Ferguson said. "<Part of what we're doing is mapping them out for
study. To see if we can determine a pattern from them and perhaps
answer the questions surrounding their existence. Apparently you and
your fiance were at the junction of six lines when they appeared.>"
"<So what happened to us? Our doctor examined us and found our
'ki's were out of balance. In opposite respects to each other too.>"
Ranma said.
Ferguson and Katy gave him dumb looks. Only Clay and McFogg
seemed to understand. Clay seemed to squint his eyes a little as he
looked at them.
"<That's odd,>" McFogg remarked. "<Ferguson, did you scan them
with a Kirlian unit after the event?>"
"<Yes Professor. It showed nothing abnormal.>" Ferguson replied.
"<Well go fetch one and let's have another look,>" McFogg told him.
"<Excuse me Professor, but what does this have to do with 'ki',
whatever that is, being 'out of balance'?>" Katy asked.
McFogg took another puff. "<Ki is a word that describes the 'energy'
that flows through a person. Eastern thought has it that the body is made
of 'energy', 'blood', and 'flesh'. The Greeks had similar views, only
they referred to a 'pneuma' that was more vapor-like that flowed
through the body.>"
"<And this means _what_ to a rational twentieth century scientist?>"
Katy asked.
**She may prove to be a poor choice for this team after all,**
McFogg sighed in his mind.
"<Ki can also be thought of as the intrinsic electromagnetic fields
that radiate from all living things as detected by the Kirlian Aura
Imaging Device.>" McFogg said evenly. "<If poor old Kirlian can
ever perfect the thing, it could be used as a diagnostic tool in medicine;
as subtle changes in a person's 'aura' often manifest before disease
can be clinically detected.>"
Ferguson returned with a portable Kirlian unit inside a metal case.
It was a large black box with padded handles on either side. The bottom
was actually a sensitive black mylar film with a clear plastic protective
cover. A full color LCD display was on top, along with an array of
touch-sensitive controls. Russian words adorned the side of the box.
He held the bottom of the box up towards Ranma and Akane. The
thing made a faint buzzing sound as he passed it over them. He studied
the images on the display, shaking his head in frustration.
"<Same as before Professor. I can't find any abnormalities with
them.>"
McFogg stroked at his beard. "<Puzzling...>" He said.
Clay stood from his chair. "<Did your doctor mention any method
of treatment for correcting this imbalance?>" He asked them.
Ranma and Akane looked at each other.
"<Sort of; he said we had to stay close to each other.>" Ranma
replied.
"<And if we wanted to be able to sleep without nightmares he said we
had to be touching if possible.>" Akane added shyly.
"<And this has been successful?>" Clay asked.
"<Yeah, so far.>" Ranma answered.
Clay motioned for Ranma to stand up. "<Stand a few meters
apart from Akane for just a moment.>"
Ranma did so.
"<Try it again, Ferg.>" Clay said.
Ferguson ran the Kirlian over Akane.
"<I'll be damned,>" he said in soft surprise. "<Her aura's a bloody
mess!>"
"<Now try Mister Saotome.>" Clay said.
Ferguson scanned Ranma.
"<It's the same thing in reverse!>" He cried.
Clay motioned for Ranma to join Akane again.
"<Now look at them together again.>"
Ferguson scanned them as they sat together nervously on the
loveseat.
"<Everything looks good now. Unbelievable... That must have
been why we missed it in Tokyo; they were standing next to each
other when I scanned them.>"
Clay folded his arms across his chest. "<Precisely. Their imbalances
are complementary to each other. In close proximity they are rectified,
but separate them and they will return to their disordered states.>"
"<Well done Mister Clay!>" McFogg enthused.
Ranma didn't share his enthusiasm. "<So what do we have to do
for a cure?>" He asked.
They were silent for a moment.
"<Well there are some other tests we shall have to perform first
to refine our data, and to be honest this sort of thing hasn't happened
before to my recollection.>" McFogg began.
"<In other words you don't know,>" Ranma interjected.
**I have to admit the boy is right about that,** McFogg thought
sadly.
"<That is true, however I think your best chance of recovery is
here. I am confident that we can help you. Though it may take some
time.>"
"<How much time?>" Ranma asked.
"<To be honest, I can't say with any measure of certainty.>"
McFogg admitted.
"<Then the sooner we start on these tests of yours, the better.>"
Ranma said tersely.
"" Clay added. "<To delay may cost us valuable clues.>"
Hiro came in with the servants and with lunch. He had a tray full
of iced tea glasses, which he maneuvered towards Ranma and Akane.
He wasn't watching where he was going however, and tripped over
Akane's purse lying on the floor next to the loveseat.
Akane was just a little faster on her feet than Ranma, who was
studying Ferguson's Kirlian with mixed emotions. Thus she was
spared the deluge of iced tea that came for them. Ranma of course
wasn't as fortunate.
Ranma-chan cried out in anguish as the last of the tea splashed
over her. She screamed upright trying to brush the ice cubes off her
chest and keep the tea from soaking into her clothes. Sopping wet long
red bangs spilled over her eyes where short black hair had once been.
"Yeeeoooowwwwthat'scold!!!!" She spluttered in protest.
With the exception of Akane, everyone in the room was staring at
her in stupefied amazement.
Hiro picked himself up off the floor. He looked at Ranma-chan,
who was soaking wet and fuming, then to the others, who were wide-
eyed in disbelief.
"<Um, did I forget to mention something to you about Ranma?>" He
asked weakly.

Chapter Four

Ukyo and Nabiki stirred to life in the belly of the jet. The roar of
the engines was gone, replaced by an unsettling quiet. Tatewaki Kuno was
holding them both in a smothering embrace.
"Oh Pig-Tailed Girl..." he mumbled in semi-consciousness. He
squeezed Ukyo.
"Oh lovely Akane..." he continued. Nabiki received a squeeze with
the other arm.
They both looked at each other with reddened eyes and winced.
"Whoever shall I choose...?" Kuno asked himself quietly.
Ukyo and Nabiki each clouted him on the head.
"Wake up you idiot!" Ukyo cried.
"And let go of us!" Nabiki added.
Kuno raised his bruised head from the floor. He blinked twice,
taking in the measure and scope of the compartment.
"What is this place? What have they done with Akane and the Pig-
Tailed Girl?"
Ukyo and Nabiki both groaned and slumped to the floor. Their
heads ached and their mouths were full of a bitter garlic taste. Their
hands and feet throbbed, and it was then that they noticed their bonds
were gone.
Kuno sat upright. If he felt any of the after effects of the drugs
used on him, it was not apparent. He stretched out his arms and
looked about the compartment again.
"I did not realize your eatery had a basement," he remarked to
Ukyo.
"It doesn't," she muttered. Her head was turning circles.
"Then where, pray tell, are we?" He asked.
Nabiki rubbed at her hands and shot him an angry look. "Don't you
remember anything before we went down? Those two foreigners that walked
into the shop and sprayed us with that liquid ice stuff?"
"I do not recall," Kuno replied solemnly.
The top hatch opened and bright light avalanched down upon them.
All three hissed in shock and pain and squinted their eyes shut.
"You know, _those_ guys?" Nabiki groused, jerking a thumb up
to the two men who peered down in amusement at them.
"Come out of there slowly, one at a time." One of the men said in
a gruff, terribly accented Japanese.
Kuno went first, as he was the most ambulatory of the three. He
was pulled up out of the compartment and sent roughly against a
passenger seat. A man wearing rust colored leather slapped a pair of
shiny steel manacles on his wrists and sent him out the door. Two
more men in weather-stained coveralls took him at the door and
marched him down the boarding ladder.
Ukyo and Nabiki had to be carried. Misha and Dmitri handed them
off to the men in the coveralls, who placed them in an olive drab six
by six truck. Two men armed with AK-74s sat inside the truck bed
and watched them idly. Russian voices barked from a radio set in the
truck cab.
The sky was clear and blue, with just a few fat clouds rolling along
at high altitude. The air was cool and smelled of the sea. A distant line
of verdant hills was dotted with small cottages. The plaintive cry of
seagulls rent the air.
"Any idea where we are?" Ukyo asked weakly.
"Wherever we are, it's not Japan," Nabiki replied.
"Tyerih skazhyesh' neechevo nyeh!!" One of the armed men
shouted. They didn't understand the words, but when emphasized
with the muzzle of a rifle in their faces, the meaning was quite clear.
Even Kuno kept still, though his rage seethed from his pores.
Misha and Dmitri climbed into the back of the truck. The man in
the rust colored leather joined them a moment later, having thrown
the smoldering remains of his cigarette butt onto the macadam with a
casual flick of his wrist. The three exchanged a few pleasantries with
the two rifle armed men, who laughed at some unknown joke.
The six by six rumbled to life and rolled out along the tarmac. It
took an abrupt left onto the grass and fishtailed a little before
accelerating. Ukyo and Nabiki watched the small twin-engined jet as
they left it behind. A white, blue, and red flag was painted on the tail.

* * *

Ivan Tarchenko sat out on the porch of the dacha in a canvas
backed chair. He had just poured himself a stiff cup of tea. For a
moment he contemplated something stronger, perhaps a shot or two
of Moskovskaya, then decided against it. It was perhaps too early for
vodka. He decided to wait until after his business was through.
The six by six rumbled up the hill. Its diesel engine chugged
noisily as the driver downshifted to scale the steep slope. He could
already make out the heavy brow and dark forelocks of Fyodor in the
passenger seat..
**I begin to realize that Grigory was right about him. His handling
of this affair has been needlessly blunt. Still, the man has his uses...**
The truck stopped along an even grade of the road next to a Zil
four-door sedan and a Range Rover. Misha and Dmitri jumped out
of the back and pulled Kuno, Ukyo and Nabiki with them. The two
rifle armed men and the leather clad man followed after. Fyodor
stepped down from the passenger side of the cab all scowls as usual.
"<What did you bring me, Fyodor Gennadiyvich?>" Tarchenko
called in a friendly voice.
Fyodor grunted something under his breath.
"" Tarchenko
added in a tone that was anything but friendly. "<Take them inside.
I shall wait for your report out here.>"
Fyodor gestured to the three prisoners. "<Shall I start on them
now, or do you wish to be present?>"
Tarchenko shook his head. "<Secure them, but leave them be for
the moment. Let them get a sense of appreciation for their predicament
first. In the meantime I shall wait for your report.>"
Fyodor grunted in the affirmative and barked orders to his men.
Ukyo, Nabiki, and Kuno were pushed into the front door of the dacha
at gun point. They were confined in a small upstairs closet, the attic
of the A-frame dacha.
"Now what?" Ukyo asked. There was more than a little fear in
her voice.
Nabiki swallowed hard before replying. "I don't know... I guess
they're going to interrogate us."
"About what? We haven't done anything!" Ukyo protested.
"They think we know something important," Nabiki said.
Kuno sat in silence, pondering.

"<Explain yourself Fyodor,>" Tarchenko ordered.
Fyodor popped his knuckles loudly before speaking.
"<I was conducting the investigation of McFogg's activities in
Tokyo, using our locally deployed field agents. Based on their reports,
we concluded that two people may have come into direct contact with
the Event as it unfolded. It is speculated that they may be exhibiting
the initial stages of Doctor Casimir's Wayfinder.>"
This had Tarchenko's attention.
"<You are certain?>" He asked quickly.
"<They were said to be experiencing shared dreams. These were
place dreams, places they had never been. A classic precognitive
state if taken in context.>"
Tarchenko nodded in agreement.
"<And you have brought them to me. Well done Fyodor, I have
misjudged you.>"
Fyodor growled uneasily. ""
"<Oh? Then who are these?>"
"<The short haired woman is a sister to one of the two. The long
haired woman is a confidant. The man has no relevance other than
being with them at the wrong time.>"
"<Why did you move on these three and not the Wayfinders?>"
"<They left the country, Ivan Mikhailyvich. We were not given
authorization to act soon enough by the Station Chief for Tokyo. It
was hoped that the two women would be able to provide information
on the whereabouts of the Wayfinders.>"
Tarchenko found himself wishing for some of that vodka. He
finished his now tepid cup of tea and sat back in thought. Fyodor sat
in silence awaiting a reply.
"<This operation was clumsy and heavy-handed, Fyodor. You
understand that don't you?>"
Fyodor looked down at the table. "<Yes Comrade Tarchenko, I
understand. I am not pleased with my performance either.>"
"<Given the circumstances you did the best you could,>" Tarchenko
soothed. "<We shall see what we can learn from them. My only regret
is in the needless waste of life this expedition has incurred.>"
Fyodor nodded in understanding.
Tarchenko continued. "<Make it quick for them. I see no reason to
prolong their suffering beyond that which is required for questioning.
Dispose of their remains as you see fit, but ensure they will never be
found. For them to be reported as missing in Japan and their subsequent
discovery here would be quite an embarrassment for our government.
And of course this must be kept from Doctor Casimir. You know he
does not approve of such measures.>"
Fyodor nodded again. ""
Tarchenko lit up a thick Turkish cigarette. He had become quite
fond of them during his stay in Istanbul. Heavy clouds of blue smoke
wafted over his head, lending him an age despite his youthful
appearance.
"<Tell me of these two Wayfinders. Perhaps we can find them
again.>"
"<They are both approximately nineteen years old. A male and a
female. I believe they are betrothed to each other. The man is a
martial artist, the woman a student. Their names are Ranma Saotome
and Akane Tendo.>" He stumbled over the names as he said them.
""
Fyodor handed Tarchenko a small pouch. Tarchenko studied a
series of photographs of Ranma and Akane. Some of them were
grainy and obviously taken through a low-light camera.
"<Quite a handsome fellow for a Japanese,>" Tarchenko remarked.
"<The pig tail should ease in identifying him... The woman is also quite
attractive. He's a lucky man to be engaged to this one... Ensure copies
of these are made available for our operatives in Europe and the United
States.>"
"<Yes Comrade Tarchenko,>" Fyodor affirmed. "<Shall we
interrogate them now?>"
Tarchenko finished his cigarette in one huge drag, blowing out a
great blue cloud of smoke as he exhaled.
"<Yes. To delay would only cost us. I shall attend the
interrogation.>"

* * *

"<This is quite extraordinary!>" McFogg exclaimed.
Ranma-chan buried her face in her hand. Akane giggled quietly to
herself.
"<Sorry Professor,>" Hiro apologized. ""
"It doesn't seem to be working," Ranma-chan muttered.
Katy Price had nearly passed out from shock. Ferguson was busy
running the Kirlian unit across Ranma-chan, trying to explain what
he'd just seen. Only Clay seemed unperturbed.
Ferguson looked a little closer at Ranma-chan. She began to feel a
little nervous under his gaze.
Suddenly it hit him.
"<Hey! I remember you!>" He cried.
Ranma-chan began to turn red.
Ferguson continued. "<Yeah, I bloody well remember you! You
were dressed up in this teeny little bathing suit and hitting on me!>"
"" Ranma-chan protested.
"What?!" Akane cried.
Ranma-chan cast a nervous glance towards Akane. "Nabiki put me
up to it!" She cried in explanation. "She wanted me to find out what
they were doing in Nerima!"
"Oh sure, blame my sister for it!" Akane retorted.
"Honest! It's true!" Ranma-chan cried. "You can ask her tonight
when we call home!"
"I will!"
McFogg looked Ranma-chan over a bit more closely. "<'Curse'
you say, Ohata?>"
"<Yes Professor,>" Hiro replied.
McFogg stepped back from Ranma-chan. "<Could you explain this
'curse' to me please?>"
Ranma-chan realized she wasn't going to be able to get around this
one.
"<Um...Well I happened to fall into this cursed spring in China.
There are over a hundred of these springs at this place called Jusenkyo,
and each of them has it's own curse. Whoever falls in a spring takes
the form of whatever drowned there a long time ago. I got lucky
enough to fall into the 'Spring of Drowned Girl'. Now every time I get
hit with cold water I turn into a girl.>"
McFogg nodded slowly as he listened to Ranma-chan's words.
"<And how do you reverse this effect, or does it wear off with time?>"
"<Hot water,>" Akane supplied.
Ferguson smacked his head with his hand. "<Hot and cold gender, eh?
It's incredible. If I hadn't seen it myself I'd never believe it. Hell,
you're a full two heads shorter than you were before -there's no way
you could fake something like that in front of us.>"
**To say nothing of that outstanding bosom of yours!** He
thought with a smile.
McFogg turned to Clay. "<Ever heard of something like this?>"
"<Transformative magic has been speculated, but I've never seen
it in the flesh.>" Clay responded.
"<Well I have heard of such a thing,>" McFogg said abruptly.
"<My father mentioned it once before the War. I wish I could
remember more of what he said, but back then I thought he was a
bit daft in the head.>"
"<Magic?>" Katy cried. ""
McFogg leveled a hard-eyed stare at her. "<Do you have a rational
explanation for what you have just witnessed?>"
"<N-No...>" She stammered.
McFogg blew a smoke ring with his pipe. "<Then for all practical
purposes it's magic. Accept it and things will be much easier for you...
Perhaps you should go and lie down for awhile anyway. You look
pale.>"
Katy nodded blithely and turned for the door.
Ferguson was still looking at Ranma-chan. ""
Ranma-chan gestured to herself. "<I'm fifty kilos soaking wet,>"
she said, trying to make a joke of her last part. "Unlike _some_ females
I could mention," She added in Japanese for Akane's benefit. Akane
stuck her tongue out at her in reply.
Ferguson blinked in disbelief. "<Really? I mean, mass isn't
conserved? How is that possible?>"
Ranma-chan shrugged. ""
Ferguson thought a moment. "<Perhaps mass is converted to
energy and carried off in some discrete form. Neutrinos maybe.>"
"<So how does he regain his mass when he changes back?>" Clay asked
offhand. "<It's a fascinating paradox, but I seriously doubt you'll find
the mechanism for it without a few billion Pounds worth of hardware and
laboratory space, so let's instead focus on the problem at hand: their
unbalanced ki's.>"
"<Well if this happened because they were in the middle of a nexus,
couldn't they just stand in the next one we're looking for?>" Hiro asked.
"<Sounds reasonable to me,>" Akane said.
"<That may not work so easily,>" McFogg cautioned. "<We don't
understand the mechanisms behind your impairment. I personally have
stood in the center of an active nexus on several occasions and suffered
no ill effects.>"
"<Same here,>" Ferguson added.
Ranma-chan shook her head in disbelief. "<So what are we going to
do?>"
"<We'll need to run some tests using more precise instruments than
this portable Kirlian for starters,>" Ferguson declared. "<Plus a full
physical workup, EEG, PET scan, et cetera.>"
"<And how long will this take?>" Ranma-chan asked.
Ferguson did some quick calculations. "<About a week to collect
the data, another to collate and analyze, no guarantee we can find
anything useful though. As Clay could tell you, the world of the
paranormal is enigmatic to say the least.>"
McFogg puffed on his pipe as Ferguson's words sunk in with
Ranma and Akane.
"<We'll do the best we can, but it's going to take some time.>" He
offered at length.

Chapter Five

Ukyo was pulled upright and half dragged downstairs. The huge
man they called Fyodor was standing before her like a mountain, hard
eyes focused intently on her. There wasn't the slightest hint of mercy
or pity in those dark orbs.
The man in the rust colored leathers was preparing an injection.
Ukyo didn't need any help to guess what it was for. The rifle thugs
stood in the corner and made small talk.
A handsome man in his late twenties sat in a comfortable chair and
drank tea from a crystal and silver cup. He appraised her with an aloof
glance before returning his attention to the man with the syringe. She
noticed the soft music playing behind the man from an old phonograph.
She thought it might be Stravinsky, but the last time she had listened
to western classical music was high school and an eternity ago.
There was no mistaking her chosen seat. It was a simple steel tube
frame chair with an array of strapping and shackles bolted to it.
Function dictated form, and this chair's function was obvious enough.
It wasn't the sight of the men that made her scream. It wasn't even
the ghastly chair. It was the large sheet of clear plastic someone had
thoughtfully placed beneath the chair that finally opened her lips in
terror.
They let her scream for several moments before intervening. She
thrashed in their iron grips as they strapped her down to the hideous
chair and secured her restraints. The chair was heavier than it looked,
she couldn't move it despite her most valiant struggles.
They watched her impassively as she struggled. The one named
Dmitri fondled Kuno's fine long sword. Their nonchalance was
agonizing, and only reinforced her sense of hopelessness. She slumped
in the chair, resigned to her fate.
"<You may proceed, Anatole.>" Tarchenko directed.
The man in the rust colored leathers nodded and squeezed a little
of the clear solution from the syringe to clear it of any air bubbles. He
was terribly thorough, even swabbing her arm with alcohol prior to
inserting the needle. Ice began to flow through her veins, and at once
a metallic taste came to her thickening tongue.
"<It won't be a long wait,>" Anatole announced.
Ukyo's head began to spin slowly. Her fragile equilibrium shifted
further off-kilter and sounds came in distorted waves. Stravinsky was
now a tortured drone in her ears, but it was the only thing she could
register with her captors remaining silent.
She wanted to scream again, but she couldn't remember how.

Nabiki's blood ran cold at Ukyo's first screams of terror. She
didn't want to know what it was that had made her scream, but at the same
time her curiosity was overwhelming. She could hear the sounds of her
struggle, the grunts of exertion from the men as they secured her to the
chair. She could hear the straps and buckles snapping into place.
"Oh gods..." Nabiki pleaded in a hushed whisper. Her eyes stung
with tears at the thought of what was waiting for Ukyo. What was
waiting for herself.
Kuno closed his eyes and bowed his head.
"Disgusting cowards," he grunted. "That they should stoop to such
base means upon fair Ukyo only stokes my hatred of them."
Nabiki looked around the tiny attic yet again for something they
could use to escape. There was nothing. Nothing but themselves.
"What are we going to do?" She asked plaintively.
Kuno kept his eyes closed. Nabiki could see his jawline tighten
and nearly feel the tension in his body.
"I swear this oath with my very life: I shall visit upon them
tenfold that which they inflict upon fair Ukyo, and twentyfold that which
they do to you Nabiki Tendo."

"<Make this as dramatic as possible Anatole, for the benefit of the
others upstairs. I do not think that this one will be able to tell us
much, but her performance will perhaps loosen the other woman's tongue.>"
Tarchenko said evenly.
"<Yes Comrade Tarchenko.>" Anatole replied. He checked Ukyo's
pulse and respirations. Satisfied, he examined her motor reflexes and
her pupil dilation.
"<She is ready,>" Anatole declared.
"<Proceed,>" Tarchenko ordered.
Anatole moved in close to Ukyo's bloodshot eyes. They could
hardly track him as he moved side to side in front of her.
"<I'm employing an agent that renders the subject extremely
vulnerable to suggestion. Many extremes of sensory input may be
imposed with little stimulation.>" He began as if he was back in
Moscow instructing KGB recruits. Tarchenko found the subject of
torture distasteful, and Anatole's clinical distancing of himself from
it appalling, but let him continue. They had an audience upstairs, and
the audience was listening.
He pulled a cigarette lighter from his jacket pocket.
"<For example...>"
He held the flame at least a foot from Ukyo's bare arm. Her
cloudy eyes watched it intently. Her lips pursed as if to say
something.
"This flame is very hot," he informed her in Japanese. "So hot
that it is burning you right this moment."
Ukyo stiffened in the chair. She shut her eyes tight and tried not
to make a sound. A strangled whimper escaped her lips nonetheless.
"It is growing hotter and hotter," Anatole said in a calm even
voice. "It is so hot that you can feel your skin blistering. Your skin is
burning."
Ukyo stifled another scream. Tarchenko watched in horrified
fascination as blisters appeared on her arm.
"<The power of suggestion is an amazing thing,>" Anatole said,
and snuffed the lighter with a click of the lid. "The heat is gone," he
said to her, and she relaxed just a bit.
"What do you want to know?" Ukyo asked. She would tell them
anything to get this over with. She knew death awaited her at the end
of the interview, but death was a release from torture.
Anatole chuckled. "I have no questions for you yet."
Ukyo let out a single sob and steeled herself for what would come
next. The pain had focused her inner conscious mind even if her body
wasn't responding like she wished.
Anatole studied her for a moment. "<Unfortunately endorphins
and adrenaline will begin to block out the effects of the drug, but as
they break down in the body she will return to her suggestive state. I
can give her an additional dose to counter these negative effects, but
her body mass is low and I cannot give her much more. We may have
to wait a few minutes before proceeding.>"
"<We have the time,>" Tarchenko informed him. "<In any event
the longer this session lasts, the shorter the next one will be.>"

**What are they doing to her?!** Nabiki pleaded in her mind.
**What do they want from us?**
Kuno's silence was almost as terrible as Ukyo's cries. The kendoist
hadn't moved a muscle since he made his oath.
**I might just go insane if I have to listen to this any more,** she
thought bitterly.

"The needles are gone," Anatole said in that calm measured voice.
Ukyo ceased thrashing in her chair. Tiny beads of red dotted her
arms and face where her sweat glands had literally passed blood. The
effect of passing blood had also made her skin hypersensitive, and
even the motion of air across her was agonizing.
Anatole wished to demonstrate this point to the others. He touched
her cheek lightly with his finger tip. She recoiled as if she had been
slapped.
"<Do you wish to begin the interrogation, or shall I continue?>"
He asked. He had just about run out of techniques he wished to
demonstrate in the last hour. Her stamina was remarkable, he'd give
her that at least.
"<How long does the drug last?>" Tarchenko asked. He had
listened to Nabiki cry out for them to show Ukyo mercy for the last
ten minutes. He was certain she was aware of what awaited her when
her time came, but he also wanted to build up the psychological
attack to its utmost before he started on her.
"<The drug's effects should be wearing off, but at this point the
subject has been so conditioned by trauma that the drugs are in fact
no longer necessary to produce results,>" Anatole explained.
"<Very well, begin the interrogation, but prompt her to scream
every now and then for the sake of our two remaining subjects,>"
Tarchenko directed.

The silence was the worst part.
Nabiki hadn't heard anything for at least ten minutes, only the
scratchy sound of Stravinsky playing on a phonograph somewhere below.
When Ukyo screamed in agony, it was almost a relief.
"It is time," Kuno whispered. "My kingdom for a sword."
The sounds of heavy footsteps on the stairs brought her heart up
into her throat. For a guilty moment she found herself wishing that
Kuno would be next. The door opened, and Fyodor was there
glowering evilly for them. Misha and Dmitri stepped forward to collect
Nabiki.
"No!" She cried. "I'll talk, I swear it!"
"You'll sing sweetly enough," Fyodor menaced.
Kuno uttered a growl so low and guttural that they missed it for
what it was.
Misha took hold of Nabiki while Dmitri removed her handcuffs.
They would need her uncuffed in order to strap her into the chair.
She thrashed as soundly as Ukyo had, to the same effect.
Even as Nabiki alternately pleaded with and cursed them, the
sound of Kuno snapping his manacles from behind his back was like
a gunshot.
Dmitri stopped cold, not believing his eyes. Kuno brought both
hands down upon the man's collar bones with crushing force. The
man made a strangled cry before dropping to his knees.
Kuno wasted no time. He took back his sword from Dmitri's side
and unsheathed it in a flash of cold light. Misha was cut down in an
instant, screaming more in surprise than in pain. Blood flowed freely
from the diagonal slash that nearly halved him. He died with that part
agonal, part stupefied countenance forever graven on his face.
"Feel the wrath of Blue Thunder!" Kuno cried at the top of his
lungs.
Fyodor was thrown off-balance by little Nabiki, who hadn't grown
up in a martial arts dojo and not learned something about hand to hand.
The big Ukrainian stumbled down the stairs with Kuno hot after him.
The sounds of rifle bolts being jacked into place mingled with the cries
of surprise below.
Fyodor threw himself over the banister in time to avoid a burst of
Kalashnikov fire from one of the thugs. He landed badly and was
knocked unconscious. 5.45mm jacketed-lead hollowpoints chewed
into the walls spitting sawdust and paint chips into Kuno's face as he
reached the top of the landing. He leaped down the stairs undaunted,
his sword glittering.
The thug caught a belly full of tempered steel a moment later, and
then all hell really broke loose.
Tarchenko was jumping up and over his chair to reach the kitchen.
He kept his Tokarev 9mm in his coat pocket there. Anatole was frozen in
mid-decision. The prepared syrette that would mercifully end Ukyo's life
was hanging in his limp hand. Ukyo was unconscious in the chair. The roar
of the mortally wounded thug's Kalashnikov filled the blood-stained air
as he burned the remainder of the magazine into the ceiling.
The second thug maneuvered around Anatole for a clear shot at
Kuno. He shouted a warning and fired a short burst to get their
attention. Nabiki grabbed a poker from the fireplace and threw it at
the thug.
"Look out Kuno-baby!" She cried.
Her cast succeeded in spoiling the man's aim.
Kuno was all grace and form. He maneuvered his blade past the
thug's guard with lightning speed, taking the man's hands off in one
stroke. The man's cry pierced the ultrasonic. More of the red red
krovy filled the scream rent air. Even as he removed the thug's hands
he was spinning about to deliver the stroke he had been visualizing for
the last hour of Ukyo's torture.
Anatole had only just broken free of the paralysis that gripped
him. He moved the syrette towards Ukyo's arm.
"Hold, coward!" Kuno cried.
Anatole froze again.
Kuno raised his blade high overhead.
"I visit my wrath upon thee!" Kuno bellowed. "My oath fulfilled!
THE HUNDRED BLOWS!!!"
He brought down his sword in a flash of strokes so fast as to be a
glitter of cold light. Wound upon wound opened in Anatole's flesh, too
fast for blood to spurt there came another rent. The air itself was
charged with Kuno's fury, and Nabiki staggered backwards witnessing
the ferocity of his attack.
What was once Anatole Kamarov collapsed in upon itself and fell
with a horrible wet sound to pool upon the plastic sheet on the floor.
Kuno looked about the room. The only sounds in the room were
Nabiki's panting breaths and the liquid noises coming from Anatole's
remains. The man whose hands he had removed had collapsed and
died of hypovolemic shock within seconds of his maiming. Stravinsky
had stopped playing when Tarchenko made his hasty escape; having
knocked the turntable over in his exodus.
He looked over his shoulder to see if Nabiki was unharmed.
"Nabiki Tendo? Art thou whole?" He asked her.
She tried to collect herself against the violence she had been party
to. It was too much. Without a word she threw herself into Kuno's
arms and wept.
Kuno put an arm about her and looked stoically out of the dacha's
large front window. Nabiki wept for a little while. Kuno remained silent,
having returned his gaze to Ukyo.
"Nabiki, hold thy tears for another time. We must look to Ukyo."
He said calmly.
Nabiki shuddered once in his cool embrace and wiped away her
tears. She took a stuttering breath and let it out in a rush.
"I'm sorry Kuno...You're right." She managed.
"There is no need to apologize Nabiki Tendo. Your courage has
spoken for itself in our victory this day."
Nabiki nodded and moved away from him. Taking care to avert
her gaze from Anatole's grisly remains, she set about removing Ukyo's
bonds. The young woman was alive, and aside from some burns on her
arm and a smear of blood tinctured sweat on her skin she was unharmed.
Most of Anatole's work was done in the victim's mind.
"We should find her a doctor," Nabiki said to Kuno. "She's alive,
but we don't know what they've done to her."
"Finding a leech sympathetic to our plight in this hinterland may
be perilous of itself," Kuno observed. "But in truth we cannot remain
here. There is one member of this evil coven that yet lives. I saw him
flee like the base coward he is during our melee."
Kuno then took Ukyo gently into his arms and carried her to the
door. Nabiki scrounged around for their few possessions and ended
up pocketing a 7.65mm semiautomatic from one of the slain. She
didn't have a clue how to use it, but if necessary she could bluff.
They scrambled down the steps of the dacha to the grassy hillside.
Nabiki hadn't found any keys to the vehicles and didn't feel up to the
kind of search through the dead to find them. They would travel on
foot. No one harassed them as they fled. In fact the closest dacha was
at least six kilometers away.
"Do you know where we are going?" Kuno asked.
Nabiki shrugged. "They were speaking Russian," she began. "I
think we're in Russia, maybe the Ukraine, I don't know. I say we head
west for now. If we can reach a town, maybe we can call for help. I
have my long distance card and a credit card."
"I do not feel the authorities will be sympathetic to our plight. We
must take pains to avoid them." Kuno said.
"I think I agree, but what else can we do?"
"First we must delay pursuit," Kuno said. He slashed every vehicle
tire with his sword. Then he cut down what seemed to be a telephone
wire.
"If Fortune favors us, we should have gained a few hours grace
from pursuit," he said when he had finished.
They started off down the hill. Tarchenko watched them go from
the shelter of a copse of trees. He held his Tokarev at the ready, but
knew that he had no hope of hitting them from such a distance.
He also had no illusions about his chances of confronting them
successfully. He was no marksman. He had managed to avoid
mandatory conscription in the Red Army by virtue of his family's
influence. Besides, what good was a little pistol against a swordsman
who slaughtered men armed with automatic rifles?

End of Part Three

Author's notes:

1) I would like to thank HM1(SS) Sisto (the Ship's Corpsman),
and LT Lowe, M.D. (The Undersea Medical Officer of SDV Team
ONE) for their assistance in finding just the right drugs to keep our
heroes down. (That and for lending me their copy of the Physicians'
Desk Reference for study.)
2) Pentobarbital Sodium (Trade name Nembutal) is a barbiturate
commonly used as a hypnotic in therapeutic doses, though may be
used as a fast acting sedative when administered intramuscular or
intravenously in a higher dosage.
3) DMSO stands for Dimethyl Sulfoxide (Trade name Rimso-50).
It was originally used for symptomatic relief of interstitial cystitis.
Currently it is used as a transport vehicle for various applications
such as seasickness and nicotine derms. DMSO allows large
molecules to pass unhindered through the skin and into tissues and
the bloodstream. Thus when mixed in a solution with say,
Pentobarbital Sodium, it can create the effects of intramuscular or
intravenous injection without using a needle. In this case a squirt
bottle.
4) The Kirlian device is still only in it's most primitive forms,
and most of the conclusions about what the device is actually detecting
are highly skeptical. Only time will tell, and the collapse of the Soviet
Union has not done any funding wonders for the project. I have
expanded upon the device to make it a little more useful than any
current incarnations.
5) As for the drug administered to poor Ukyo, I'm not at liberty
to discuss it. Get your own copy of the PDR and you might find a
few hypnotic/psychotropics that come close to what I've described
when administered in carefully controlled doses. Psychosomatic
effects are quite possible with the proper techniques. It's nasty stuff,
and the process of chemical interrogation is a lot more involved
than how I've described it. (So I'm told.) Don't try this at home folks...
6) On the subject of sweating blood, it is more than just a biblical
reference. It is possible to pass blood through the pores and sweat
glands when under extreme duress. This capillarial hypertension also
makes the skin extremely sensitive to stimulus. (Read as pain.)
7) Not to be confused with the AK-47, the AK-74 is the current
basic weapon of the former Soviet Union states. It is chambered
to fire the smaller 5.45mm round vice the 7.62x39mm round used
by the AK-47. It is very similar in function and appearance to it's
older sibling.

Free the Nukes!

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