[Ranma/Battletech][FanFic] Battletech: The Saotome Gambit Part 15

[Jamie and Bridget Wilde]

Nerima Confederation JumpShip _Dragonfly_
Approaching Drydock Three of the Palatine Orbital Shipyards
in orbit above the planet Tiber, in the Palatine System
11 April 3025

Hinako Ninomiya floated attentively on the bridge near her chair.
The approach to drydock was a dangerous time in the life of a starship,
and Hinako was determined to see that the maneuver proceeded without
mishap. As the ship could not advertise its true allegiance as a ship of
the Confederation Navy, she was clad in the worn wool jacket and skirt
of a merchant skipper under Confederation flag. The crew was similarly
disguised. The cordial trade relationship between the Confederation and
the Federated Shiratori made it plausible, and such duplicity was old
hat for them as a Special Operations vessel of the Navy.
"Captain, the Orbital Tugs _Pushmataha_ and _Niantic_ are standing
to, off our port beam. They request permission to approach."
Hinako took the report from her Communications Officer with a shake
of her long brown mane.
"Very well," she purred. "Have them approach to within one hundred
meters. Chief of the Watch, what is the status of readying the foc'sle
for docking?"
The Chief of the Watch consulted with the _Dragonfly's_ Executive
Officer, who had taken charge of the ship's rarely-used Forecastle and
its vital docking machinery. The Forecastle, or "foc'sle" as it was often
called, was a compartment in the bow of the ship. It was the location
of the enormous hydraulic winches and tackle that would assist ever so
carefully in pulling the starship into the cavernous chamber of Drydock
Three.
"Captain, the X.O. reports that the foc'sle is manned and ready. All
machinery standing by for docking procedures."
Hinako nodded. "Very well, Chief of the Watch."
Ships like _Dragonfly_ massed over a hundred and fifty thousand tons,
and to fire their massive drives indiscriminantly within close proximity
to an orbital construct was dangerous. Once the tugs had taken hold of
the ship, their smaller, highly agile drives would painstakingly ease the
_Dragonfly_ into position before the open "barn doors" of the depressurized
drydock.
This manuever alone could take over eight hours, as the tugs' drives,
while capable of moving a ship as large as the _Dragonfly_ with ease, also
had to coordinate their efforts with absolute precision and timing to bring
the ship into position at the exact relative velocity as the orbiting
drydock.
Once that was accomplished, the tugs would stand off away from the
starship and the drydock, while smaller apparatus - similar to a space-
going battlemech in the 10-ton range - would approach from within, and
attach meter-thick steel tow cables through the ship's bullnose. The
bullnose was a large vanadium-steel ring at the very tip of the ship's
bow, and was attached to the starship through a smaller series of winches
and tackle in the foc'sle to maintain the proper amount of strain on the
tow cables without parting them. The steel cables provided the necessary
flexibility and cushion against acceleration forces while remaining strong
and resilient, but if they parted, they could snap-back into the hull and
tear the bow of the _Dragonfly_ apart.
A gigantic capstan within the drydock, working in conjuction with the
smaller winches anchored to the strongest structural members of the ship's
keel, would slowly pull the starship inside. The tugs would assist in
keeping the ship's stern in position until the very last moment. Hinako had
experienced this once before as a junior officer, and knew that the towing
process could take six hours or more.
Once fully inside, the "barn doors" would be closed, and their seals
inspected. A web of mooring lines would then be attached to the ship's hull
from bow to stern to secure it within the drydock. When the ship was secure,
the process of sending over "pier services" such as shore power would begin.
As this was being accomplished, the drydock would be flooded with breathable
air, and enormous low-velocity circulating fans would begin to condition it
to a comfortable temperature and humidity.
All of this required a great deal of effort, but the ability to work
on the repairs to the ship in a shirt-sleeve environment made it worthwhile.
The risks of working in an industrial surrounding were unavoidable, but
compounding them with a vacuum environment made accidents many more times
likely to be fatal. Working in drydock would also increase efficiency and
decrease overhead, as the yard workers would not need to spend time suiting
up for a job, nor would it be necessary to pay for the maintenance of so
many pressure suits and related equipment.
"The tugs are approaching, Captain," her Sensory Officer reported.
Hinako watched the two ships settle fore and aft of her ship. Their
bulbous, shock-absorbing gel-filled bows would soon contact the hull of
the _Dragonfly_ as they began their slow-motion ballet of positioning the
ship.
"Very well, Sensory," she replied calmly. Once they received permission
to commence the docking operation, the conning of the _Dragonfly_ would be
out of her control.
She took a look at the Palatine Yards on the main telescope display.
At the height of the Star League, the facility had been able to service
the monstrous Monolith and Starlord Class JumpShips, as well as the great
battleships of the Star League Defense Force Navy. Now the Yards were down
to only three of the original six drydocks, and these were in danger of
shutting down when the last remaining spare parts for the massive air
compressors that evacuated them, and the air handlers that conditioned
them, finally wore out. She tried to imagine how the Successor States
could possibly maintain their fleets, military and merchant, without
these incredible constructs, and found that she couldn't.
The starships of the Inner Sphere had been built and maintained in
Yards like these. Reverting to the ancient times of working in a constant
vacuum would never replace the productivity of the drydock. The attrition
alone from accidents would ensure the loss of not only skilled labor, but
also the arcane knowledge these engineers and technicians has passed on
from one generation to the next. Eventually the entire program would wither
and die.
Perhaps on the day when the last shipyard shut down, there would
finally be peace in the Inner Sphere. Without drydocks in which to repair
and to maintain them, the JumpShips would eventually break down. Without
JumpShips, there could be no more interstellar war. The human race would
live out its days in whatever star systems they happened to call home.
Hinako doubted that even isolated in their own systems, humanity could
ever give up on war, but at least they wouldn't be exporting it throughout
the cosmos.

___________________________________________________________________________
J. Austin Wilde and Fission Park Press proudly present:

BATTLETECH: THE SAOTOME GAMBIT
PART FIFTEEN

by J. Austin Wilde
Safety Control Rod Axe Man,
Fission Park Press
wild...@gci-net.com
http://www.gci-net.com/users/w/wildeman/

The characters and situations of Ranma 1/2 are the
creation and property of Rumiko Takahashi and
Shogakukan/KITTY/Viz Video. Battletech and its
related materials are the property of FASA, inc.
No infringement of copyright is intended nor
should be inferred by this work of fanfiction.
___________________________________________________________________________

Chapter One

Offworld Quarter, the City of Aquila
Planet Tiber, Palatine System
The Federated Shiratori
12 April 3025

Genma Saotome left the grounds of the Confederation Consulate to
the Federated Shiratori with a frown on his face.
"Hey, Pop," his son greeted him as he stepped through the guarded
gates. Ranma and Akane had been standing outside in what appeared to be
relatively companionable silence while waiting for his return. "What's up?"
"I've just been informed by the Consul that the _Dragonfly_ has been
put into drydock," Genma replied. He began walking down the wide tree-lined
boulevard towards their hotel. Ranma and Akane hastened to catch up with
him.
"Great. Who's footing the bill?" his son asked.
"I convinced the Consulate to pay, since our reserve of C-bills on
board the ship is for emergencies in places where we won't have such
assistance," Genma said dryly. He inclined his head to Akane and added in
a voice that was almost too soft to hear, "They didn't like it, but with
the daughter of the Grand Duke accompanying us, they weren't going to deny
us."
Akane harrumphed quietly at this. She was never one to take advantage
of her station, and it never ceased to gall her when others felt free to
do so for her. Genma continued.
"To make it look less suspicious for us, they gave me the account
number to an emergency fund held with the Bank of Sol. Since they act as
a clearing house to handle the international exchange for Comstar, it
won't raise any eyebrows for a Confederation merchanter to have an account
with them, and we won't draw any attention by utilizing it. We have to make
a trip to the planet's Comstar facility to have them transfer funds to an
account set up with a local bank."
Akane nodded with silent relief. She had been prepared to liquidate
personal shares of her stock in the Ceres Metals Corporation if necessary
to pay for the repairs to the ship. Even her small portion of stock would
have yielded an enormous sum of money, as the Ceres Corp was a vast holding
dating back to the earliest days of the Terran Hegemony, and was the very
foundation upon which the Tendos of old had built their wealth. Doing so
would have also drawn a great deal of attention to herself. Even Kuno's
spies would have been capable of picking up on the sale, and drawing the
correct conclusions from it.
"Sounds great," Ranma said, interrupting Akane's train of thought.
"So what's up with the long face?" he asked his father. "I haven't seen
you look that upset since the family 'mech got scrapped."
Genma took his time in responding.
"Well?" Ranma pressed.
"The Consulate has received word from the Capella System," Genma said
finally. He was looking at Akane as he spoke. "Kuno's invaded and has them
under siege. They don't know how long they can resist."
Akane tensed at his words, feeling absolutely helpless in that moment.
"No way," Ranma gasped. "You're serious, Pop?"
Genma nodded slowly. "I'm sorry, Akane," he said to her. "I'm afraid
we might already be too late to help your father."
Akane closed her eyes to keep the tears away. There was nothing they
could do. Without the _Dragonfly,_ they could not leave the system, and
their faithful starship needed extensive repairs to the power systems that
fed its Jump Drive.
"How long will the ship be in drydock?" Ranma asked hopefully.
"Two weeks," Genma replied. "At the minimum. Hinako's already asked
for three shifts a day to work on the ship, but it will take at least ten
days to machine the replacement components for the Jump Drive main circuit
breakers. Some of the parts they can't manufacture here are getting shipped
from the nearby Bangalore System. They've already sent an HPG message to
the factory there for a rush order, but it will take some time to hire a
ship passing through Bangalore to Palatine that can deliver it."
"Damn," Ranma muttered softly. He offered Akane a sympathetic look,
which went unnoticed with her eyes closed.
"They can hold out," she finally declared. "I know they can."
"That's the spirit, Akane," Ranma chirped. He turned his attention to
his father "We just need that sixth key, right, Pop?"
Genma nodded.
"So where is it, already?" Ranma demanded. "You said you knew."
Akane opened her eyes and brushed away the wetness that had accumulated
behind her lashes. "Yes, Mister Saotome. Where is the sixth key?"
The elder Saotome took a deep breath and held it for some time.
At last he spoke. "Azusa Shiratori has it," he declared solemnly.
"What?" Ranma and Akane cried in unison.
Genma withdrew the small notebook journal of the Scout that he kept
on his person at all times. "It says here that our predecessor, alias
Chance G. King, had the key, but he ended up losing it to the Empress."
"How the hell did that happen?" Ranma demanded, not believing a word
of what his father had said. In his mind, Genma had no clue where the sixth
key was, and had made up such a ridiculous story to conceal that fact. The
fact that he hadn't come forward with his cockamamie story sooner seemed to
clinch the matter for the younger Saotome.
Genma however, displayed the tearstained pages of the journal for
them to see. They were tearstained because both he and the now long dead
Scout had wept over them for what was lost and what might never be
recovered. The crabby, almost illegible handwriting of the Scout was
there for them to see.
"He was on Genevieve after discovering a small cache of Star League-era
materials he had found on Derviso II. He was trying to sell his discoveries
to the F-S," Genma explained. "Part of his find included the sixth key, but
since he knew what it was, he didn't intend to sell it."
Ranma was tired of the charade. How could Pop do this to Akane when
the Combine was laying siege to Capella?
"Yeah, so?"
"So... The F-S being what it is under the domination of the Cult of
Azusa, he had to make his pitch directly to the Empress. Most of the booty
was still buried on Derviso, the materials being too big for a man of his
modest means to move. He was going to sell them the location of the depot,
and he used some of the smaller items he had recovered as proof of his
discovery. While he was displaying some of the gewgaws he had recovered,
she happened to see the sixth crypto key." Genma produced the necklace of
the five keys in their possession from underneath his dogi. The brightly
colored plaques glittered in the warm mid-morning sunlight. "You've
travelled in the F-S long enough to have heard the stories about their
Empress, boy."
"You mean the fact that she's like a magpie?"
"Keep your voice down," Genma hissed. "If one of the Cult heard you
insult her like that..." He let the threat hang between them. When he was
certain that no one had showed any interest in his story, he returned the
necklace of keys to their place. "You're essentially correct," he continued
quietly. "She grabbed the sixth key right out of his hand and named it on
the spot."
Ranma shuddered. He had heard the stories all right. Azusa the First
was quite possibly the most spoiled girl in the entire universe. Whatever
she wanted, she got. The Cult of Azusa, which had deified her and then
subordinated the old feudal system of federation that bound the F-S to the
Great House of Shiratori, would see to it that every whim of their goddess
was indulged.
"Did he get anything at all for it?" he asked hesistantly.
"Oh, they paid him for the location of the depot," Genma said. It was
not necessary for him to refer to the journal in this regard, for he had
pored over that sad chapter endlessly, searching for some clue as to the
exact location of the key. "Of course what they paid for the key was
nothing compared to its real value, but he wasn't about to tell them what
the key could be used to find."
Genma looked away for a moment. "He was a broken man after that. You
can see it in his journal entries. The separations between entries grows
and they become more desperate in tone. He's searched just about everywhere
he could manage in the Inner Sphere by this point. An entire life spent
looking for Ryuugenzawa. He can't bring himself to give up, and continues
the search. He finally finds what we now call the fifth key - for him the
sixth and final component to unlock the data disc - but the quest has lost
its meaning."
He went silent then, walking on with some hidden purpose.
"Then what happened, Mister Saotome?" Akane asked after a long pause.
Genma sighed. "It wasn't long after he hid the fifth key that the boy
and I found him. He had completely lost it by then; drunk, penniless, a
little mad, and then at the end, the Nevermore Fever that killed him."
"That's terrible," Akane said sadly. She had never given much thought
to the mysterious Scout who had done most of the groundwork for their quest.
It occured to her that should they succeed in finding Ryuugenzawa, the
Confederation would owe a great deal to this poor, broken man.
"So what you're saying is that we have to steal the sixth key from the
Empress?" Ranma asked. For a cockamamie story, what Genma had said to them
bore the bitter ring of truth. They had a serious problem.
"I'm afraid so, boy," Genma replied. "You can see why I've been so
reluctant to talk about it."
Ranma gave him a grudging look of agreement. "Well... Yeah... But you
have a plan, right?"
Genma offered an enigmatic look. "I'm working on it."
The pig-tailed mechwarrior slapped his forehead wearily. "I'll take
that as a 'no...'"
Genma harrumphed at his son's lack of confidence in him.
"We can take comfort in the fact that since she named it, it will be
in the same place she keeps all of her other precious things."
Ranma scowled. "Yeah, in her Collection of Cute. That is to say, in
an armored vault deep in the bowels of her capitol fortress, surrounded by
heavily armed and totally fanatical guards. We might as well waltz into
Comstar's headquarters on Earth and ask them where they keep all their
secret technologies..."
"Oh ye of little faith," Genma scolded. "Giving up already, eh boy?
Scared by a girl, are we?"
"I ain't scared of no girl," Ranma bristled. "It's her legions of
wacko Cultists I'm thinking about." He glanced briefly at Akane before
returning his attention to his father. "And I ain't giving up, neither,
got it?"
Genma grinned smugly. "That's what I like to hear, boy. Because if
anyone gets the job of infiltrating her Collection of Cute, it'll be you..."
Ranma's scowl deepened.
"Pop, have I ever told you how much I hate your guts?"
"Listen here, boy," Genma returned. "When the day comes that I don't
hear that from you, that is the day I know that I've failed you."

* * *

"Did he really mean that?"
Ranma looked up at Akane from the low grassy hill where he sat. Aquila
Park lay spread out before them, its cool green lake long, sinuous, and
winding past tree-covered knolls below, the gentle ripples of the water
glittering in the early afternoon sun. Paddleboats splashed through the
water, scattering flocks of snowy white ducks before them.
"Mean what?" he asked, knowing what she meant and not wanting to say
it himself.
She remained standing in spite of the urge she felt to sit close to
him.
"When he said he was failing you if you didn't tell him how much you
hated him every day."
"Oh, that," he replied coolly. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure that he does."
She eyed him speculatively. "Do you?"
Ranma's eyes grew slightly larger at the question, as if prodded with
a dull needle in the back of his neck. Her query had not brought pain, but
discomfort, and more than a little surprise.
"Do I hate my Dad?" He looked away from her for a moment, casting his
eyes down the hill to the lake and the clots of ducks that congregated
close to the water's edge. "I probably should..."
"That's no answer," she scolded gently. "Do you or don't you?"
He looked back at her. "What are you getting at?"
"I want to understand you a little better," she replied, wanting once
more to sit by his side, and realizing that he was not ready to accept her
so close to him. Not after her line of questioning. "Haven't I said that
once before?"
He shrugged, his eyes remaining fixed upon her. "I guess so."
She smoothed the hem of her pale yellow sundress against the breeze.
She realized then that the sight of her with the sun shining in her short
blue-black hair seemed to be unnerving to Ranma. It was as if all he could
do was look at her and admire the way the gentle breeze lifted the delicate
locks of hair that fell in front of her ears and made them drift across her
eyes. She brushed away the locks of hair and tried not to blush. No one
had ever looked at her in that way before. There was an almost childlike
reverence in his expression.
"Well? Do you hate him?" she asked, breaking the spell over him, if
only for the moment. She needed to say something to him, or else she would
be utterly consumed by his gaze. "I'd understand if the answer was yes. If
not, why do you think you should?"
"I don't hate him," he declared, and she knew by the timbre in his
voice that it was true. "I don't want to end up ever hating anyone, even
if they deserve it." He picked at the soft grass at his side, casting the
severed blades into the wind. "When you hate someone, you give them power
over you."
Akane absorbed this quietly. She was starting to realize that the best
way to get Ranma to open up about himself was to get him talking and then
avoid interrupting. This time, however, the subject seemed to die with his
last word on the matter. Perhaps another prod.
"That's why you can't beat Master Happousai, isn't it?" she pointed
out. She expected him to get angry with her, and she supposed that she
might have deserved it with that remark. Instead, he surprised her.
"I never thought of it that way," he observed quietly. "I always
thought it was because he was a better martial artist than me."
"He *is* a better martial artist than you," Akane declared with a grin.
"But that's not why he keeps beating me," Ranma returned, not rising
to her gentle barb. "He keeps beating me because I let myself get angry with
him. I don't hate the little freak, I actually feel sorry for him most of
the time, but getting angry with him is a lot like hating him. I lose my
head." He slapped a fist down into his palm. "I can finally beat that little
bastard. I know it."
"'Little bastard?'" she said teasingly. "It sounds like you haven't
learned anything."
"What else am I gonna call him?" he returned. "Sure as hell not
'master.'" He offered a grin to show that he didn't take her jabs as
anything more than playful.
She decided that he was approachable now, and sat down beside him.
He seemed to tense for a moment, then relaxed slightly as he turned back
to the lake below.
"It's good to be on a planet again," she observed after a thoughtful
moment's pause to set him at ease. "A nice green planet, too. Even one day
on Capra was too long."
"It wasn't so bad," Ranma returned. "Except for the part about us
getting captured by the Joketsuzoku, and almost getting killed by the Black
Rose, and then ending up as Kuno's prisoners, and finally having to fight
our way off the planet... Not half bad at all."
She turned to him and laughed in spite of herself. It took several
moments for Ranma to realize that she was not really laughing *at* him,
before he too began to laugh at the absurdity of what he had said. It felt
wonderful to be able to sit next to him and laugh, and to hear him laugh
with her.
Finally, when the moment had passed, Ranma eased himself onto his
back and looked up at the cloud-scudded blue sky. Though he had been
smiling and laughing mere moments before, his face now seemed grave, his
eyes lined with concerns that would have bowed the back of a person twice
his age and experience. In that moment she caught a glimpse of the Ranma
Saotome he would someday become.
"What is it, Ranma?" she asked him at length. "What's bothering you?"
His eyes remained fixed on the sky.
"I'm sorry," he told her. "We blew it, and I'm sorry."
"I don't get it," she returned uneasily. "You're sorry about what?"
"You know, Kuno's siege at Capella," he replied. "I'm sorry we couldn't
find what we needed sooner. We're too late. Now we're stuck here for weeks,
totally helpless. We can't even go back and help your dad make a stand."
Her own face fell as he spoke. She had been trying to put those
thoughts aside since Mister Saotome had told her of the siege, and for
awhile that day, she had actually succeeded.
"It doesn't matter," she said quietly. "Even if Kuno wins, and my
father is forced to surrender, I'm still not giving up. I'll start an
insurgency from within the Confederation... I'll even raise an army of
mercenaries and fight for anyone who has the guts to oppose the Combine
if I have to."
She wrung her hands anxiously.
"I need you, Ranma," she said to him, her voice urgent and making
him tense with surprise at her side. She realized that she had said more
than she had intended to with the remark, and continued hastily with,
"That is, I need you to help me find Ryuugenzawa. I can't give up the
fight. I know my chances aren't very good if the Confederation is forced
to surrender, but without Ryuugenzawa, I might not stand any chance at
all."
Her voice began to break, and she pressed her lips together tightly
to keep them from trembling. She willed herself not to cry, not after she
had made such a declaration, and not in front of Ranma. As the tremors
passed, she rose quickly to stand and face the sun.
He was following her with his eyes, she knew. She wished for a moment
that she was alone on the hill, knowing that Ranma was too insecure around
her to say and do the things she needed from him for comfort. It was funny
in a sad kind of way. Ranma would fight against suicidal odds to protect
her - she knew that, had witnessed it - but was too unsure of himself to
give her even a comforting hug.
"Y-You okay?" she heard him ask hesitantly. His query armored her,
and she bit down on her lip the way Kasumi often did, and willed away her
fears and pains.
"I'm fine," she replied coolly. "What's taking your father so long?"
she continued, eager to steer the conversation away from what was hurting
her. "He should have been here almost two hours ago."
Genma had sent them on to buy lunch and wait for him in the park while
he went to the planet's Comstar facility, and then to the local branch of
the Bank of Sol to set up the fund transfer into an account. The costs of
drydock and repairs to the _Dragonfly_ were to be deducted from that
account, with any money remaining going back to the Consulate. The whole
setup shouldn't have taken more than an hour from their end, and it had
been more than three since they had separated.
Ranma stood. "Good question. Knowing Pop..."
He paused, unwilling to continue.
"Yes?" she asked him.
He offered a lame look. "Well, knowing Pop the way I do, he's probably
trying to figure out a way to slip a little of the money from the emergency
fund into a private account he can convert to cash."
Akane grimaced. How could the man be so greedy and corrupt?
"You're serious," she remarked.
Ranma nodded slowly. "Oh yeah. I can see it. He's probably getting
smashed in some bar with the money right now."
"Great," she spat. "I suppose we should go find him then."
Ranma rolled his eyes. "I was afraid you were going to say that."

Chapter Two

Brigadier Ukyou Kuonji stepped down the folding boarding ladder of
her brigade tiltrotor as the aircraft's twin turboprop engines shrilled
overhead. At least she was on fairly clean tarmac, she supposed as she
scooted away from the tiltrotor and towards the staff car waiting for
her by the fence. There was less dust that way. Her adjutant, Major
Konatsu, was waiting for her with the rear door open, a gloved hand
holding down his uniform skirt against the rotor-generated wind.
She returned his crisp salute and slipped onto the rear bench seat.
As Konatsu joined her, the tiltrotor's engines spooled up and began to
pull the ungainly aircraft into the sky. It banked into a turn, the engines
rotating into fixed-wing flight as it did so, before racing away from the
airfield for the distant exercise grounds.
"How was your flight, sir?" Konatsu asked politely. The driver took
this as his cue to put the car in gear and leave.
Ukyou smoothed her hair back into place with the assistance of the
small mirror in her compact.
"The usual," she lamented. "I hate those noisy things. Even a normal
helicopter isn't as loud."
"At least the tiltrotors are faster, sir," Konatsu pointed out. "You
were able to return in half the time."
"Point," Ukyou conceded. "Any chance to get away from Mikado is worth
the sacrifice."
Konatsu nodded slowly.
Ukyou caught the thought-processes behind his nod. She had set aside
open talk of resigning for the moment, though he knew that it was never
far from her mind. Any mention she made of General Sanzenin was filled
with it, even if it went unspoken, and Konatsu knew that.
"Is my Hatchetman ready?" she asked absently as she combed the
windblown tangles out of her bangs.
"Yes, sir," he replied. "The Armorer also informed me that your new
spatula blade arrived from the foundry yesterday, and that he would be
mounting it to the autocannon before noon."
Ukyou beamed. Custom bladework for battlemechs was both tricky and
expensive. Her last spatula blade had shattered five days ago during a
weapons drill in the field. Mikado had wasted no time in dressing her down
in front of the troops for using a non-spec hatchet blade. It was more
than embarrassing, it was a stain on the family honor, and she vowed to
get even with him for it.
"Good. I feel like taking it out this afternoon," she said coolly,
thinking about how good it would feel to someday drive her massive spatula
blade through the torso of Mikado's 80-ton Victor.
"Yes, sir," Konatsu sighed.
"By the way," Ukyou added. "I've taken a three day leave of absense,
so no matter what, if anyone sends for me, and I mean *anyone,* I'm not
available. Got it?"
"Yes, sir," Konatsu replied formally. His eyes then lit up in surprise.
"General Sanzenin actually let you go, sir?"
"Not exactly," she replied. "Let's just say that I included myself
in the liberty orders for the troops following the completion of the
exercises. I'm supposed to route my requests through him, but *technically*
I *am* assigned to one of the units that was granted liberty."
Ukyou sat back in the seat and relaxed. It was good to get away from
the troops for awhile. It was definitely good to get away from Mikado.
"Won't the General be angry, sir?"
"I suppose he will," Ukyou admitted. "But by then, it might just be
too late."
Konatsu blinked twice.
"Sir?"
"Not here," Ukyou replied, waving him off. The driver was not her
usual chauffeur, and though Konatsu was good when it came to matters of her
physical security, he might have missed one of Mikado's spies. "Wait until
we get to my quarters."
"Yes, sir," he sighed. He affected a look of unease - probably without
even realizing that he was doing it, she supposed.

* * *

"It's time you knew," Ukyou told her adjutant. Konatsu stood silently
near the door, his eyes fixed straight ahead and unblinking. "I'm going to
make a personal appeal to the Empress for an assignment to diplomatic duty.
It probably won't be with the Confederation the way things are going, but
I'd take an assignment with the League or the Commmonwealth. Anything to
get out from under Mikado's thumb."
Konatsu nodded slowly.
"And if the Empress does not grant your request, sir?"
Ukyou tossed back her chestnut mane of hair.
"Then I tender my resignation on the spot," she replied matter-of-
factly. "There are mercenary regiments on the border with the Combine
looking for good officers. I know of several that have favorable
connections with my family, so one of them should be able to come up
with a billet for me. I certainly wouldn't mind a little action against
Kuno's troops that might actually have a chance of success."
Konatsu closed his eyes and stood silently by the door.
"I'm taking you with me, Konatsu," she told him. "Though you might
have to take a demotion from adjutant to aide-de-camp. Of course, that's
what you really do for me here, but there would be a pay cut involved."
His eyes flicked open. "Dearest Ukyou, I would live on bread and water
if it meant that I could continue serving you!"
"I think we can manage better than bread and water for you, sugar,"
she said gently. "Thank you for the enthusiasm." All the same, she felt a
little guilty.
There were no guarantees that any mercenary regiment she might find
willing to hire her would be as tolerant of Konatsu's cross-dressing and
effeminate manner as Empress Azusa. His was a situation that was worse
than it appeared, because in spite of his habits and his inclinations, he
had been forced to face up to his true gender by her, and now harbored no
desire for other men. Even what little previous desire he had felt for men
had been based on what he had supposed was expected of females.
Despite his obvious heterosexual bent, she had tried without success
to get him to become more masculine. Having been raised for most of his life
to believe he was female meant a great deal of conditioning to overcome.
Conditioning that she had no time or energy to break. Conditioning that
had endeared him to the Empress, and, should it have been overcome, would
have spelled the end for him in Her Imperial Divinity's service.
While she felt obligated to him for his loyalty and devotion, if it
meant that if she was faced with the choice of joining a regiment without
him, or crawling back to Mikado for a job, Konatsu would be out of luck.
He had been a stray puppy to her for the most part, and stray puppies could
be put up for someone else to adopt.
"I need to get out in town for awhile," she told him. "Alone," she
added quickly. "I need you to stay here and fend off Mikado in case he
figures out too soon that I'm gone."
Konatsu saluted. "Yes, sir. Should I put out a fresh uniform for you,
sir?"
Ukyou waved him off. "That won't be necessary, sugar. I'll wear some
civvies instead. I might have to get used to them again, you know."
"Of course, sir," Konatsu replied. "Shall I go now, sir?"
"That will be all, Konatsu. Dismissed."
He saluted again, and left the room silently.
Ukyo sighed. He had taken the news better than she had expected, but
not by much. She stepped over to her dresser and began to disrobe. A good
brisk walk through downtown was what she needed. Interacting with people
who weren't soldiers was the cure for what ailed her.
She decided against a shower, as she had done nothing to exert herself
that day, and it had been fairly cool up in the highlands where the military
reservation was located. She pulled on an old and comfortable pair of black
tights and a short belted tunic in her family's purple. She tied a white
ribbon into her hair, adorning the top of her head with a cheerful bow. Now
she looked very little like the young woman who commanded by default most
of the Federated Shiratori's battlemech forces.
The Kuonji's had been both martial artists and merchants from a time
long before the dawn of interstellar travel. Specifically, they were
purveyors of a certain type of Japanese fast-food: the okonomiyaki. The
spatula she often wore on her back was a symbol of that ancient tradition,
and of the okonomiyaki-based school of martial arts in which she studied.
There were still branches of the family that sold the pancake-like
food, her own included, and she had been required to learn the art of
cooking it as part of her training with the battle-spatula. As she
strapped her family's preferred melee weapon onto her back, she thought
of the possibilty of forsaking the military altogether and going back to
her roots.
She knew she was skilled in the art of preparing okonomiyaki. She
practiced every chance she got, although since her promotion to Mikado's
Whipping Girl, those opportunities had become less and less frequent.
With some assistance from her family, and what she had saved up over
the years from her salary, she could probably open up a very successful
restaurant on Genevieve, or perhaps even New Osaka. It would certainly be
a more rewarding pursuit than fighting the Furinkan Combine or taking part
in some petty dispute between the remaining nobles within the Federated
Shiratori. For one thing, there were far fewer condolence letters to be
written in the restaurant business.
Deciding that it was better not to be noticed, she slipped out the
back door. The row of guest houses for general officers on the base was
dotted with many old trees, allowing her to reach the alley without drawing
any attention to herself. Most of the generals on the planet were still out
at the reservation with their commands.
It was a short walk down a lonely tree-lined road to the Chapel Street
Gate, and from there into town. She gave a nod to the gate guard as she
walked past, and then off the base. He probably figured her for a soldier's
girlfriend, and returned her nod with a leering stare which she ignored
with the secret satisfication that she could have had him flogged for such
an offense against an officer, and a general at that.
The busy thoroughfare beyond the base led straight into downtown
Aquila, and with its tree-lined medians and flower beds laid along the
sidewalks, was well worth the walk in her mind. Unlike many large cities
that boasted Army bases, Aquila had grown up as something other than a
military town. The Federated Shiratori Army had come to the planet Tiber
only within the last fifty years, seeking a planet better suited for its
Spring Manuevers.
Skyscrapers rose into the blue midday sky before her, glassy and
bright in a minimalist architectural style that set them far apart from
the buildings of Kawaii City on Genevieve. Those horrid things were so
cute as to be grotesque. New Osaka was starting to sound like a better
place for a restaurant than Genevieve, even if it meant stiffer competition.
When she reached the cool shade of the skyscrapers, she knew she was
where she wanted to be. Most of the heart of Aquila was cut off from vehicle
traffic, forcing people to get out of their cars and walk places. Far from
grumbling about it, the people of the city actually enjoyed the warmth of
downtown and its many parks, fountains, and flower gardens. Office girls
and junior executives of the planet's many private companies sat and ate
their lunches while taking part in that oldest of urban rituals - people
watching. Ukyou found that she didn't mind the attention she was getting
from the men in this setting.
There was a place near the very center of downtown where she could
enjoy a cold beer with some first class teppanyaki, and it was there that
she walked. The front door was set a good two meters below the level of the
sidewalk, in what was the lower level of a major banking tower. The girl at
the hostess' rostrum did not recognize her, which was just as well, she
figured. Mikado knew of this place, and he knew that she enjoyed coming
here.
She was led to a table near the middle of the establishment. There
were three chefs on duty for the lunch crowd, and one seemed to be working
overtime serving a rather heavyset man in a worn white dogi. The man was
alone and clearly drunk. Many empty bottles of the local beer lay scattered
on the teakwood countertop around the griddle, which the wait staff could
not have ignored, and therefore must have been ordered to leave alone.
What's his problem? she wondered idly as she pored over the beverage
list. She had a mind to try a glass of import lager from New Brisbane that
was known only by the cryptic brand of 'XXXX.' Being an import, it was
pricey, but she had heard good things about it from some of her staff.
One of the serving girls took her order, and quickly produced a
chilled glass full of the crisp amber colored lager for her. She sipped
at it appreciatively, and decided that she liked it. The man at the other
table loudly ordered another beer for himself.
Ukyou frowned. If he was going to keep this up, she would have to see
about getting another table. The place was busy, but if it meant getting
away from him, she wouldn't mind the wait.
He began to ramble about something that obviously saddened him. She
couldn't help but overhear him, even though she wished he would just pass
out and get it over with.
"I failed you, Soun, old buddy," he blubbered. "Failed!" He swallowed
the beer in one gulp, and ordered another round, prompting Ukyou to wonder
why no one had cut him off yet. "You're gonna lose your duchy, and then
there goes our dreams!"
The mention of the name 'Soun' and the loss of a duchy made her perk
up her ears. Was this man a Confederation sympathizer? There were a lot of
people in the Federated Shiratori who made a living trading over the border.
If - *when*, she corrected herself - the Furinkan Combine conquered the
Nerima Confederation, all those lucrative trade agreements would go up in
smoke.
The waitress took her order and placed it near the griddle for the
next available teppan chef to handle.
"And that ingrate son of mine..." the man rumbled on, lurching nearly
out of his chair while the teppan chef hastily and without any showmanship
prepared his food. "You'd think he could do right by his poor father and
marry Akane... But nooooo... Any time I mention it he gets all defensive
and tries to blame me for all his problems..." The man lurched upright and
confronted the chef. "Ha!" he barked a little too loudly. "He thinks *he's*
got problems... That damn Ranma... O, my ingrate son...!" He then fell to
sobbing into his hands.
Ukyou nearly dropped her beer.
Ranma?
It wasn't a very common name, she admitted to herself. One part of her
mind tried to write it off as mere coincidence, but that other more rational
part of her brain began filling in the blanks. A man named Soun losing a
duchy. That could only mean Soun Tendo, the Grand Duke of the Confederation,
and a man who was about to lose his holdings to Prince Kuno. Akane Tendo
was the Grand Duke's daughter. Akane was the name of the girl this Ranma
person, the 'ingrate son' of the drunk, was supposed to marry.
Ranma Saotome was supposed to marry Akane Tendo...
She looked a little closer at the portly man in the dogi. It had been
years since she had last seen Genma Saotome, and to be honest, she didn't
really remember him all that well. It could have been Genma Saotome, but
then again, it probably wasn't. After all, what were the odds of him not
only showing up on the same planet, but in the same restaurant, as her?
"Damn fool Ranma..." the man grunted, nearly falling face first into
the griddle before the teppan chef could stabilize him with a swift thrust
to the chest with the flat of his spatula. "...You bring dishonor to the
Saotome name...!"
That tears it! Ukyuo thought angrily. Somehow, the gods had seen fit
to grant her the vengeance she so urgently wished for. Somehow, the gods
had seen fit to deliver Genma Saotome into her lap!
She rose quickly to her feet. Genma's insobriety was at last garnering
the necessary attention, and several of the wait staff prepared to hoist the
man out of his seat. The hostess was calling a cab for him. She needed to
act now.
"There you are!" she said angrily to him, as she stumped over to his
table. The wait staff gave her curious looks before deciding that she was
a daughter or perhaps younger lover of the drunk. She saw no reason to
dissuade them of this belief. "I've been looking all over downtown for
you!"
Genma gave her a dumbfounded look. There wasn't even a hint of
recognition in his bloodshot eyes, making her even angrier. The bastard
could at least realize who it was that he had betrayed so long ago.
"I'll handle this," she told the wait staff. She dropped her shoulder
underneath his armpit to steady him. "How much does he owe?"
"One-hundred and fifty-seven imperials," the waitress replied evenly.
"Plus gratuity."
Ukyou reeled for a moment at the number. The place was a little on
the expensive side, but damn! Most of it had to have been the bar tab.
She spied a fat bulge of cash in the front pocket of Genma's gi, fished
out three crisp hundred-imperial bills, and set them on the counter. Such
a large gratuity was going to be remembered, but she wanted to get him out
of there with absolutely no fuss. "Have a nice day," she told them with
a shaky smile.
"We've called for a cab," one of the bus boys offered. Bicycle-driven
rickshaws were the only allowed form of motorized transport downtown.
"Thanks anyway," she replied, steadying the hundred plus kilo bulk
of her despised and quite drunken foe. "I think a good walk is exactly what
he needs to clear his head."
"Do I know you?" Genma slurred to her.
She elbowed him in the ribs. "Of course you do!" she said with an
embarrassed laugh. "Come on, Dad, let's go..."
She led him unsteadily out the door, and up the steps to the sidewalk
level. It took just about every ounce of strength she had to keep him
moving without spilling over.
"Where're we going?" he slurred.
"Never mind that," she snapped. "You *are* Genma Saotome, right?"
"Yup!" he returned.
"And you have a son named Ranma, correct?"
"Correctamundo!"
There was one final question to be asked, the answer to which
would cast aside all doubt as to the identity of the pathetic drunk
in her charge.
"Your son is supposed to marry the daughter of the Grand Duke of the
Confederation, right?"
Genma grinned stupidly. "You betcha!"
Ukyou wanted to kill him right then and there. If only there weren't
so many potential witnesses!
She shuffled him to one of the smaller grassy areas that lay between
skyscrapers. The place saw very little sunshine, and was generally shunned
by the locals. When she was certain that no one was around to see anything,
she let him fall face first into the grass.
"...heeyyyy..." Genma whined, his voice muted by the ground.
"It serves you right, you bastard," she growled at him. "I've a mind
to beat you to a bloody pulp, you know! You *and* your no-good son!"
Genma rolled over onto his back, the world spinning before his eyes.
"What'd I ever do to you?" he asked in a pathetic voice.
Ukyou steamed. She drew the battle-spatula from her back and brandished
it for him. "You don't remember who I am?"
Genma blinked several times at the spatula.
"Not a clue," he said with surprising lucidity.
"I'm the girl you left behind!" she cried indignantly. "Ukyou! Ukyou
Kuonji! Does that name ring any bells, or do I have to ring some bells of
my own!?"
Genma thought long and hard. Drinking slightly less than a case of
beer in under two hours was not helping the process.
"Ukyou?" he asked aloud.
"That's right!" she cried. "Do you remember or don't you?!"
He thought some more. The glint of steel that shined in his eyes from
the spatula began to accelerate the process, more out of the instinct for
self-preservation than any recognition.
"...Ukyou..."
"Quit stalling and answer my question," she growled. If she wasn't
careful, she was going to draw unwanted attention. As a brigadier in the
Army, she could easily talk her way out of a police entanglement, but it
would also mean Genma's escape from her vengeance.
"Could I get another hint?" he pleaded.
Her hands began to grip the spatula with such an intensity that her
knuckles cracked.
"I'm the girl you promised Ranma to," she told him through clenched
teeth. "My father gave you a controlling share in the family business as a
dowry... REMEMBER!?"
Genma thought some more.
"I think I *do* remember..." he said at length. "It was a chain of
okonomiyaki restaurants, wasn't it?"
"That's right..." she confirmed bitterly. "And when it came time for
me to go with you on your next training mission, you left me behind!"

Genma tried to sit up and failed. He honestly could not remember this
girl, but he remembered the dowry! That had to have been more than ten years
ago! Why, he'd liquidated those shares right before they left New Osaka on
a training mission. They needed the money to buy spare parts for the LAM...
His bloodshot eyes focused on the girl, now no longer a girl, but a
young woman Ranma's age.
"That's right," she said coldly, somehow knowing where his thoughts
were leading. "You sold those shares to a competitor and almost ruined my
family! Instead of taking over the family business, I had to take our
rickety battlemech and join the Army! I dedicated my life to battle because
you had ruined any hope I had for a normal existence!"
"D-Don't you think you're overreacting?" he stammered. Fear was doing
wonders for his body's metabolization of alcohol.

"Overreacting!?" Ukyou cried furiously. "Overreacting!? You RUINED my
life! I was in love with Ranma, you know! When he left the system without
me, I was CRUSHED! All my friends started ridiculing me for being dumped,
and for my family being sent to the brink of poverty because of you!"
She raised the spatula overhead to strike and end his life. Witnesses
be damned, she could claim he was an assassin! The Federated Shiratori's
civil unrest in the wake of the Cult of Azusa's ascension simmered just
below the boiling point, and vendettas between rival families were often
settled over the tip of a poisoned dagger.
"W-Wait!" he pleaded. "You don't look like you've got it so rough
now!"
She paused. He was too drunk to be an assassin sent to murder her, she
realized. The story would never stick. She relaxed her grip on the spatula
and addressed his pathetic attempt to garner a few more seconds of life.
"If that's true, then it's because I worked my ass off to restore my
'mech and use it to rise through the ranks," she told him in an icy voice.
"As for my family, it's taken them almost ten years to recover from the
damage you did with your lies and deceits..."
Genma lay silently on the grass, ashen faced, waiting.
She gripped the spatula once again, all of the pain and frustration of
her life coming back to her in a rush. He was the reason she had to endure
the humiliations of Mikado Sanzenin. His abandonment had made it impossible
for her to trust a man in any kind of personal relationship, and so he was
the reason why she was so lonely. She wanted to split his face wide open.
She wanted to deliver his head, wrapped in a preserving sleeve, to her
father on New Osaka. She wanted him dead so badly for all the suffering
he had caused her.
"I should kill you," she told him flatly.
"But you're not?" he asked hopefully, his eyes drooping drunkenly.
She lowered the spatula to the grass. He was a worm. She realized
in that moment that there had been no malice in his decision to abandon
her. He was simply a greedy, selfish, pathetic worm, incapable of looking
beyond the immediate personal gratification of his actions for any sort
of lingering consequences or harm done to another. Thinking about what a
pathetic life he must have led, she came to the conclusion that killing
him might turn out to be a kindness. He deserved far more in the way of
punishment than granting him a swift, if bloody, death.
"Just tell me one thing," she said quietly. "Tell me where Ranma is."
Genma did not answer her, for in the span of mere seconds from the time
her spatula touched the ground, he had passed out.
"How dare you," she growled, wrenching him into a sitting position with
a violent jerk of his dogi.
His eyes opened blearily, and he muttered something she could not hear.
"What?!" she demanded. "Speak up!"
He slipped back into a dreamless state of unconsciousness without
answering her.
"Bastard," she grunted. She leaned him forward, so that he sat more
or less upright, his considerable girth preventing him from spilling all
the way over onto his knees. She then hauled back the spatula and swung it
with all her might.
The wide flat of the blade slapped into his face with a satisfying
*smack* of doughy flesh against steel. Genma's torso pitched over so that
he was lying spread-eagle on the grass, his nose bleeding and starting to
swell, and both his eyes graced with freshly purpling shiners.
Ukyou looked over the battered destroyer of her childhood and smiled
grimly. Though Genma had not told her where she could find Ranma, she had
an idea that would bring her long-lost fiance to her.

Chapter Three

Nerima Confederation DropShip _Palomino_
Landing Pad #6, Aquila Starport
Planet Tiber, Palatine System
The Federated Shiratori
12 April 3025

Ryouga Hibiki looked after the battlemech that had once belonged to
his erstwhile companion, Pansuto Tarou. They were planning on selling it
in order to defray some of their expenses, Happousai's hospitilization
being chief among them. They were going through with the sale in spite of
the fact that for some unexplained reason, the Consulate had decided not
to accept responsibility for Tarou.
Tarou's innocence or guilt was in question, and no one was willing
to resolve the matter. With the siege of Capella, it was clear that ships
moving over the border between the Federated Shiratori and the Nerima
Confederation were going to be few and far between, and the Consulate
itself had no actual jurisdiction to try Tarou for his alleged crime. That
was the explanation Commander Saotome had put forward for the Consulate's
change of heart, and Ryouga saw little reason to doubt it.
Captain Ninomiya had more pressing matters at hand than giving Tarou
a trial, and so he remained in lockup on the _Palomino._ Lockup meant being
consigned to his cursed form, mildly sedated, heavily shackled, and kept
under continuous armed guard in the Number #1 'Mech Bay. He would have to
keep until the Captain decided to try him, or else they were able to reach
the Nerima Confederation and hand him over to the authorities - assuming
of course that the Confederation had any authority remaining to it at that
time.
The fanged mechwarrior tried to mask his regret at suggesting Tarou
be held in his cursed form, but after watching Ranma slip his bonds with
such ease after being splashed on Capra, it made sense. Tarou could pull
no surprises on his captors if he was already in his monstrous Jusenkyo
body, and they could control his access to hot liquids much easier than
they could with cold. It was true that he was more dangerous in his cursed
form, but at least those assigned to guard him could be trusted to keep
their distance from him, and to shoot without hesitation should he somehow
free himself.
He regretted it because he knew how lonely it must have been for
Tarou. Since he was unable to speak in his monstrous form, he was
essentially a prisoner of his own body. He was trapped, incapable of
communicating beyond grunts, growls, and mournful howls.
In truth, he could not blame Tarou for trying to kill Happousai. He
himself wanted the old freak dead as much as his companion did. Tarou's
only crime lay in getting caught.
"Mechwarrior Hibiki, sir," a soft voice called to him. He froze at
the words, knowing that they came from the lips of Senior Technician
Akari Unryuu, the girl Happousai had once mocked him for admiring.
"Y-Yes?" he asked, turning to face her.
"May I ask what you were thinking about?" she inquired. He found
himself staring at the delicate streaks of pink that ran down the fall
of her walnut colored hair from her temples.
"Um, thinking?" he managed weakly.
"You seem upset about something," she observed.
"I guess so," he replied. For the last several days she had been
close at hand whenever he was around a battlemech, particularly his own,
and he was starting to get the worrisome impression that she liked him.
It was worrisome because he thought she was sort of cute, and very nice,
even if she was completely hung up on battlemechs - and especially because
he found himself acting like a complete fool in her company, which was
rather like the way he did when he was around Akane.
Akari turned away, sensing his reluctance to talk about the matter.
"Forgive me, sir," she demurred. "I shouldn't pry."
"Um, well," he mumbled. "It's no trouble. No harm done."
"Thank you, sir," she said, the corners of her mouth rising slightly.
"I was wondering, sir, if you would be so kind as to accompany me on a
final inspection tour of the Hunchback. It would not do for us to sell a
battlemech that wasn't in the best possible condition that we could achieve
within our means."
Ryouga found himself nodding.
She brushed lightly at her coveralls before drawing a notepad and
stylus from her breast pocket. Her dark eyes seemed to glitter in the
afternoon sunlight. "Shall we begin then?" Her attitude towards him seemed
to change from meekly subordinate to cheerfully companionable in an instant
with her query.
"L-Lead the way," he said to her.
He regretted his decision to follow, for his eyes fell upon her
shapely rump as she scaled the gantry ladder around the scaffolding for
the Hunchback, and followed her every movement. His face reddened with
shame as he realized that he was ogling her, but he could not bring
himself to look away. Happousai's admonition that he needed to get laid
more often - at all, he reflected sadly - came back to haunt him.
How can I think these thoughts about another girl when I have such
strong feelings for Akane? he asked himself.
Akari reached the top of the gantry, oblivious to his hungry eyes.
When she turned to him, he managed somehow to affect a look of intense
concentration for the job at hand - for her sake as much as for his.
"The sensor package needs work," she began, and he nodded mutely in
agreement. She pointed out the sensitive photonics through open access
panels. "I can replace the telescopic suite fairly cheaply, but the radar
might have to be left as is. Tacticon Tracer systems are rare items in the
Federated Shiratori."
"It can't be helped," he said with as much authority as he could
muster.
Akari pointed out several discrepancies with the Hunchback's Tomodzuru
Type-20 autocannon.
"The external reloading mechanism is sticky," she said to him. "In
fact there is one round still in the magazine that we weren't able to
remove, so we haven't been able to fully inspect the weapon."
"Really?" he asked, looking down into the large armored port in the
battlemech's namesake bulging back. He could see the 210mm shell sitting
on the feed rollers just inside the port. "Tarou always said you needed
to give it a good kick to knock things loose. Usually he meant for me to
do it."
"Can you get it out?" she asked him hopefully. Her smile was warm
enough to melt hardened steel.
He nodded while shyly taking off his tunic to avoid getting it dirty.
Though he was graced with an impressive physique, he did so unthinkingly,
and certainly not intending to impress her. The effect, however, was the
same no matter his intentions.
Closing his eyes for a moment in concentration, he kicked the feed
rollers hard in the usual spot. The shell came loose, and rolled out to
the hard-stop detente at the edge of the port. He bent down at the knees
and hefted the massive discarding-sabot cannon round up into a flawless
clean-and-jerk lift, and set it onto his broad shoulders with a grunt.
"I'll go put it with the others," he said, oblivious to the look of
awe he was receiving from Akari. He started down the gantry ladder with
the shell across his shoulders, his fingers sinking into the semihard
caseless gelatine propellant block. Sweat formed a sheen on his arms,
back, and chest from the effort.
"Hubba hubba hubba!" a girl's voice cried out in appreciation, and
he turned with embarassment as the two Air Lance pilots, Yuka and Sayuri,
rolled down the DropShip's cargo bay ramp in an open-topped ATV. Sayuri
waved to him as Yuka tried not to wreck the vehicle while staring at his
rippling muscles.
"Hey, Ryouga!" Sayuri called to him. "Is that an armor-piercing shell
on your shoulders, or are you just happy to see us?" Her finger pointed to
the sharp tip of the superhard tungsten-carbide-lined penetrator dart that
gleamed dully in the sunlight from within the ridged discarding-sabot
sleeve. The phallic references implied in her remark were not lost, even
on Ryouga.
"Oh, Sayuri," Yuka scolded her companion. "Don't tease the poor guy.
You know he's soooooo dreamy..."
"Definitely yummy," Sayuri agreed, licking her lips. "You know how I
like my beefcake rare..." The two reluctantly drove off down the tarmac for
the distant gate into town.
Ryouga, his face a deep crimson from more than just the exertion,
could only stand while holding the shell in a pose that he hoped wasn't
too statuesque, and watched them go. If it weren't for the fact that those
two were known to be ruthless teases by the crew of the _Palomino,_ he
would have been a total wreck. He was not accustomed to girls adoring him.

"Ryouga, dear!" Akari called to him from high above. "Is everything
okay?"
He almost dropped the shell. She called him dear! How many times in
his life had a woman other than his mother called him that? His knees began
to buckle at the implications.
"Uh, ah, no problem!" he called back, unable to meet her eyes with his
own.
Slowly, carefully, he set the shell down into a wooden packing crate
with the others before he dropped it. The ammunition would have to be moved
into the Ship's Magazine soon, as it was a safety hazard sitting out in the
open unprotected. A forklift stood on the tarmac nearby for the job, and he
pondered using it as an excuse to escape Akari until he could think the
situation over.
"Ryouga, dear! Could you please come up? I need help with one of the
access panels."
Every nerve in his body began to tingle at the sound of her voice.
Twice! Twice she had called him 'dear!' It could not have been unintentional
for her to have said that twice!
"Ryouga, you idiot!" he said to himself. Then, internally, he continued
his monologue.
How can you even think about walking away from her? he asked himself.
How many girls have *ever* showed interest in me? I've been wandering the
Inner Sphere as a mercenary for years without finding someone whose favor
I could bear.
But Akane! another part of him cried. How can you two-time her like
this?
"But I'm not two-timing her," he muttered to himself. "You can't two-
time someone who's with someone else - even when that someone else is a
thoughtless, totally egotistical jerk like Ranma..."
"Ryouga?" Akari's voice was filled with concern.
"Ah, er, I'm coming!" he cried. He spun around and began walking in
what he thought was the right direction. Instead of the gantry ladder, he
began climbing up the ramp to the DropShip's cargo bay.
"Where are you going, Ryouga?" she asked him. He turned around and
stared dumbly at Akari, who was now almost at eye level with him.
"Um... Ooops?"
He started back down the ramp, his face beet red.
"You big silly," she chuckled, and he nearly tripped down the ramp.
First 'dear,' and now 'silly?' This was serious!
She was waiting for him with a torque wrench in her small graceful
hands when he finally managed to climb the staging that surrounded the
Hunchback.
"I couldn't get the bolts broken on this panel," she pointed out in
an all-business tone. Then her voice sweetened. "Could you do it for me?"
I am putty in your hands... Ryouga thought as he took the torque
wrench from her and set to work.

* * *

Akane's cell phone began to ring. As they had planned on being stuck
on Tiber for weeks, Genma had decided to purchase a dozen phones and a bulk
subscription package to allow the crew to remain in contact away from the
DropShip.
"You gonna answer that?" Ranma asked her. He despised the idea of
carrying one of the things.
She fished the tiny phone out of her handbag. "Of course I am." She
flipped it open and set it to receive the call.
"Hello?"
"Where are you, Akane?" It was Sayuri's voice.
She looked around for a street sign. They were walking east along the
edge of the park, towards the center of town.
"Sowell Boulevard," she said into the phone. "We're on the north side
of Aquila Park."
"Stay there. Yuka and I are on our way to pick you up."
Akane began to look concerned. "Is something wrong?"
"It's not something that we can talk about on an open frequency."
Now she frowned. Though the phones had some of the best encryption
standards available, Genma knew from experience that the Cult of Azusa
had forced the F-S's various service providers to give them access to the
decryption keys. Because of this, they had to observe specific security
protocols of their own, and that meant certain topics were taboo over the
ether.
Whatever Sayuri needed them for, it was important enough to keep it
to themselves.
"Okay," she replied coolly. "We'll be waiting."
"What's up?" Ranma asked. He had been stuck following only Akane's
side of the conversation.
"I don't know," she replied. "I guess we'll find out."
They weren't kept waiting long. Yuka and Sayuri drove past, missing
them at first, and then shifting over to the far left lane to pull a u-turn
at the next light.
When they came back around, they were ready for them.
"Hop in," Sayuri said, giving Ranma a narrow look as she did so.
Ranma, feeling self-conscious under Sayuri's glare, helped Akane into
the back of the ATV before leaping in.
"What's going on?" Akane asked as Yuka pulled out into traffic.
"The Consulate called the ship," Sayuri began. "Apparently, Commander
Saotome decided to get roaring drunk downtown, and then got mugged. The
local police have him in custody for public intoxication. They say they'll
release him to us if we plead no contest and pay his fine."
Akane looked to Ranma, who shook his head slowly and shrugged.
"You were right," she said to him.
"I know my old man," Ranma returned. "I say we let him rot there for
the rest of the day and get him in the morning. A night in jail will serve
him right."
"He's supposed to speak with Captain Ninomiya tonight over the radio
to discuss the drydock schedule," Sayuri pointed out. "It's not like she
can catch a shuttle down from orbit just to speak with him in the town
jail." She seemed to approve of Ranma's attitude towards his father,
however, and her near-constant look of mild disgust for him softened.
"Well then," Ranma muttered. "I guess we go spring him."

* * *

The police were holding Genma in the 1st Precinct, a solid looking
building set near downtown and just far enough out from the heart of the
city to allow access by road traffic. Yuka and Sayuri waited in a secure
lobby on the first floor as Ranma and Akane were inspected and sent
through a metal detector to receive custody of Genma Saotome.
"He's being held on a charge of public intoxication," the police
sergeant who escorted the two mechwarriors pointed out.
"We know," Ranma replied gruffly.
"What do we have to do about that?" Akane asked.
"It's a misdemeanor charge, so all you have to do is fill out the
defendant's portion of the citation and go over to the City Court Clerk's
Office to pay the fine. It's a hundred imperials for a first offense." He
shrugged. "Unless you want to fight it, in which case you still have to
go over to the Clerk's Office to set up a court date."
"We'll pay the fine," Akane declared.
"Probably for the best," the cop agreed.
"We were told he got mugged," Ranma said to him. "Is he okay?"
"Two black eyes and a broken nose," he said to Ranma. "The medics
checked him out, and it doesn't look too serious. In fact, we don't know
for sure that he was mugged. He had a lot of cash on him when we found him,
and he was face down on the cement." The police sergeant gave them a
noncommital gesture with his hands. "It's possible that he was so drunk,
he just passed out and fell flat on his face."
"Sounds like Pop," Ranma agreed.
"You said he had a lot of money on him?" Akane asked, and shot Ranma
a knowing look.
"Close to five thousand imperials," the policeman replied. They were
passing into the holding cells now. "That's why we aren't sure it was a
mugging, unless the person who called it in to the emergency dispatch
scared the mugger off before he could rob him. Whoever called it in didn't
stick around to tell us anything, though."
"What did my Pop have to say about it?" Ranma asked.
"He doesn't remember anything about the incident," the sergeant said.
"We gave him a detox shot when we brought him in, but he's still a little
buzzed. That must have been some bender he was on." He reached into his
pocket and handed Ranma a card. "This is a number you can call for some
counseling for him on alcoholism. If you're interested."
"Thanks." Ranma stuffed it into his pocket. There was no way in hell
that Pop would ever go to an A.A. meeting.
Genma Saotome sat silently in one of the jail's two drunk tanks. He
was watching a game show on a small closed-circuit television with the
sound turned all the way down. His face was bruised and puffy in spite of
the anti-inflammatories the medics had given him. A white bandage crossed
the bridge of his nose and held the bones in place.
"Hey, Pop," Ranma said to him. "We're here to spring you."
Genma turned to face his son, and looked relieved.
"You do your poor father proud," he grunted.
"Shove it," Ranma shot back. "If it was up to me, you'd be rotting
here until tomorrow morning."
The police sergeant unlocked the cell door and instructed Genma to
step out. The portly elder Saotome did so slowly, as if each step were
painful.
"You look like hell," Ranma observed.
"Honestly, Mister Saotome," Akane added. "What possessed you to do
something like this?"
Genma gave them both hurt looks.
"Neither of you could hope to understand..." he said cryptically. He
turned to the policeman. "What do I need to do to get out of here?"
"I've already explained the legal process to your son," he replied.
"As for you, you need to come with me and retrieve your personal effects.
We'll also take a statement from you if you so choose, but I'm required
to inform you that anything you say or do can and will be used against you
in a court of law should you choose to challenge the citation."
"I don't think he can handle it," Ranma interrupted. "Why don't I go
get his stuff, and he can make his way to the door. We aren't going to
challenge nothing, so he ain't got nothing to say." He gave his father
an angry look. "Right, Pop?"
The policeman looked to Genma to see if he agreed with what his son
had said.
"The boy's right," Genma said, casting a hopeless look of shame in
Ranma's direction. "Just let me sign the citation and we'll be on our way.
You can release my things to him."
"As you wish," the policeman replied. He motioned for Ranma to step
through a door at the other end of the holding facility and handed him the
release order. "Please follow me, Mister Saotome."

Chapter Four

Ranma thumbed through the legal-sized manilla envelope as they drove
down the Expressway towards the Starport. Though they had hotel rooms in
town, it was decided that Genma needed to dry out for awhile, and that
meant staying on the DropShip.
"So how much did you embezzle from the Confederation Treasury, huh,
Pop?" he asked his father as they drove. Sayuri turned back to face them
for a moment in consternation.
"You can count," Genma replied sourly.
"I'll do that."
Ranma pulled out the fat wad of freshly printed Federated Shiratori
scrip. E-money would have been more convenient, but left a data trail that
was easy to follow. Bills made laundering the money a simple task.
"There's about forty-six hundred in local cash currency here," he
announced. "Plus a receipt from the Palatine branch of the Bank of Sol
for a five thousand C-bill deposit in your name. Not bad, Pop. Just enough
to live the good life here without taking so much as to be noticed by the
Consulate."
"This is shameful," Akane scolded. "I thought you were supposed to
be helping the Confederation, not stealing from us."
"I was weak!" Genma wailed. "I admit it! *You* try life as an
impoverished mercenary for twenty years and see what it does to you."
"You don't see Ranma doing something like this, do you?" Akane
retorted. Yuka and Sayuri gave each other funny looks as she said this.
Ranma began to shrink into the rear bench seat next to his father.
"You don't want to know some of the things Ranma has been a party to
with me," Genma grumbled.
Akane was taken aback, but just for a moment. "If Ranma has done
anything wrong in his life, it was because you failed to be a good example
for him!"
"Hey, easy now, Akane," Ranma said to her gently. "Let's just drop
this whole thing, okay? We'll pay the money back to the Consulate before
we leave the system, and that will be that. No one's gonna miss the few
hundred he already spent."
"I suppose," she agreed. Ever since Ranma's suspicions of his father's
embezzlement had been confirmed, she had felt betrayed. She was furious
with the man, and wanted to have it out with him.
Ranma went back to looking at the money. The bills were paper thin
pieces of plastic with Goddess-Empress Azusa Shiratori's face plastered
over most of the available surface not actually needed for such things
as watermarks, holograms, serial numbers, and the bill's denomination.
Thoughts of having to invade Azusa's Inner Sanctum to get the sixth key
made him shudder, but he found himself oddly fascinated with the idea of
a culture that could deify a spoiled brat like her.
"Hey, check this out," he cried in astonishment as he flipped through
the wad once more.
"What is it, Ranma?" Akane asked him.
"These are supposed to be fresh bills from the bank, right?" he asked.
"I guess so."
"Someone wrote on one of them," he said, pointing to the ink scrawl
over Azusa's forehead. "It looks like a phone number." He turned to his
father and showed him the bill. "Does this look familiar?" he asked him.
"Did you meet someone in the bar?"
Genma shook his head. "I don't remember a damn thing," he replied.
"It could be anything."
"It's probably nothing," Akane said.
"Maybe," Ranma returned. "Maybe not. I'm gonna call the number when
we get back to the ship."
"What are you saying, boy?" Genma asked tersely.
"I'm not saying anything, Pop. But, if you weren't planning on
two-timing Mom with whoever is on the other end of this phone number,
you've got nothing to worry about, right?"
Genma flushed crimson. He honestly didn't remember meeting anyone,
much less getting their phone number, but it wouldn't be the first time
he had succumbed to the loneliness of the life of an itinerant mercenary.
His sexless, repressed, wussy of a son just didn't understand! Maybe if
he actually got up the guts to screw Akane and thus find out how great
sex was, he might finally cut his poor father some slack!
"Speak up, Pop," Ranma pressed.
"Go ahead and call," Genma grunted. "It means nothing to me."
"Fine," he agreed. "I'll do that."

* * *

"Let it go, Ranma," Akane said quietly to him. They were on the
Flight Deck, which was currently deserted with the ship secure on the
ground and its reactor shut down.
Ranma reached for the ship-to-shore telephone anyway.
"Why should I?" he asked sullenly.
"Because all you're doing is setting yourself up to get hurt," she
told him. "If that phone number is what you think it is, that's exactly
what will happen."
He gripped the receiver tightly in his hand and unfolded the hundred-
imperial bill with the phone number.
"Why couldn't he have just gone home to Mom if he was so lonely?" he
muttered to himself. "Why does he keep doing this to me?"
Akane rested a reassuring hand on his arm.
"I don't know why, Ranma," she said to him. "I think the only person
who can answer that question is your father."
"Fat chance," he spat. "All I ever get from him is lectures. 'Do as I
say and not as I do,' and bullshit like that."
"If you know he's cheating on your mother, and that he's not going to
stop, then why do you keep trying to find out about it? If what you say is
true, it won't make any difference, so why bother?"
"I need to know," he said to her coldly, "so I can look my old man in
the eye every time he fucks up, and let him know how much I despise him for
it."
Akane drew away from him. Here was something about her fiancee that
she wished she did not know. Was this just a taste of what marriage would
be like? Finding out about all the dark corners in your spouse's life, the
hateful things and dirty little secrets that were best left unsaid, whether
you wanted to or not?
Was there a deeper reason behind why Ranma was so against their
eventual marriage? Had his father forever poisoned him against marriage
by his own shoddy example?
She discovered that as she thought about these things, she had come
to her own realization regarding their engagement. Whether she loved him
or not - and she was still very unsure of her true feelings for him - she
was willing to marry him someday as per her father's wishes. The thought
of getting married soon did not appeal to her, but maybe in five years or
so she felt she could bring herself to do it.
This realization was coupled with the knowledge that any marriage to
Ranma Saotome was going to have its rocky moments, and especially so if
it was a loveless one. She would need to bring to bear all of her devotion
to her people to make it last if that was the case, and she wondered once
again if her father had even bothered to think the idea through when he
first agreed to joining their families. It was much easier for him, she
decided. His marriage to Mom had been a happy conjunction of love and
politics - a rare enough occurrance in the Inner Sphere.

Ranma punched in the numbers on the phone.
"Hello?" a female voice answered. Ranma cringed, because she sounded
pretty cute.
"Hello?" the voice asked again.
Stifling a curse, he spoke. "I heard you met my father," he said into
the receiver. "You left your number on a hundred-imperial note. I just
thought I'd call and say hi."
There was a cold silence on the other end of the line. He could feel
an intense hatred there, wherever it was.
"You still there?" he asked her.
"Ranma Saotome..." the voice replied, and Ranma decided that she
no longer sounded cute. "Meet me tomorrow evening in Aquila Park. Twenty
o'clock sharp, by the statue of Karl Tiber on the east side of the lake.
Come alone."
The line clicked dead.
"Are you satisfied?" Akane asked him tersely.
Ranma blinked a few times in disbelief. That was not at all what he
had been expecting.
"I ain't sure," he replied distantly. What the hell was going on?
Who the hell was this girl, and how did she know his name? He started to
punch in the number again, before finally hanging up the phone. Whoever
that girl was, she had already set the conditions for their next
conversation.
He wanted answers, and so he intended on being there.

* * *

Ukyou Kuonji set down her personal cell phone, her body trembling.
She had just spoken to Ranma Saotome, her childhood sweetheart, after
more than ten years. She tried to imagine what he looked like by the sound
of his voice, a voice that had been tinged with anger and something else.
She knew what it was because she had lived with it all her life.
Pain.
She found it disconcerting. Here she was, preparing to exact revenge
on him for more than ten years of misery and humiliation, and he sounded
just as hurt and miserable as she did. Where was the revenge in kicking
someone who was down?
It was the reason why she had not killed Ranma's despicable father,
Genma, and the reason why she had contented herself with just one good
blow rather than beating him to a pulp as she had dreamed of doing for so
long. Was she going to be any more capable of giving Ranma the thrashing
he deserved for abandoning her than his father? Or had the gods merely
pulled a bait and switch, goading her with the chance for obtaining her
revenge and then denying her any satisfaction in the deed?
There was only one way to find out, she decided. She would go to the
park tomorrow night and see just what kind of man Ranma Saotome had become.
Then she would know if her revenge would bring her any release from pain.

Chapter Five

Free Trader _Don Maestro Domingo Diaz de la Vega y Martin
de Valencia y Avila el Conquistador y Gruzado la Montana,_
Bangalore System Nadir Jump Point
Bangalore System, the Federated Shiratori
13 April 3025

The Merchant Class JumpShip _Don Maestro Domingo Diaz de la Vega y
Martin de Valencia y Avila el Conquistador y Gruzado la Montana,_ besides
having a long-winded Spanish name, was also one of the most profit-minded
spy ships Shampoo had ever heard of. The ship was supposed to be
transporting herself and Mousse to the Palatine System in time to catch
the Saotomes, whose JumpShip was currently undergoing repairs. Now, a
single Jump from the Palatine System, the starship lingered at the Jump
Point while its master conducted trade with the planet's capitol city.
She realized that the ship's crew were supposed to be under cover as
merchants, but it appeared to her that they were taking their cover a
little too seriously. What good was extra money in their pockets when it
meant that she would fail yet again in her mission? Her great-grandmother
was gambling everything on success. Had she gambled in vain?
The crew itself knew nothing of her mission. Only the Captain knew
why they were aboard, and he was currently on the planet selling his cargo.
The crew's instructions were to keep the ship's two passengers comfortable
and out of the way while the ship conducted its business.
Shampoo didn't mind the privacy, but it disturbed her to realize how
helpless she was. She couldn't even send a message to her great-grandmother,
as the ship did not possess an HPG array, and they were not to leave the
ship until they reached the Palatine System. They were dead weight until
then, "scrubber loads" as far as the crew was concerned - the derogatory
term for anyone whose existence aboard ship was simply that of a drain on
the life support systems.
Of course, "privacy" was a relative term. The small stateroom on the
Grav Deck she occupied was shared with Mousse.
One thing was for certain, he was still the changed man he had been
when he first came aboard the _Jade Lotus,_ a day that seemed so long ago
after all that she had been through. He was quiet and maudlin most of the
time, lacking in all of his old affection for her. He still loved her, it
was clear by the fact that he had sacrificed everything to help her, but
his love was now carefully guarded. He pled ignorance to her many questions
regarding the mission, lending her to suspect that he knew far more than he
pretended, and was probably playing on her suspicions to keep himself
indispensible to her.
How well he knows me, she observed as she considered this. The moment
she discovered the full extent of his knowledge, he knew she would abandon
him. A search of his belongings for materials related to this desperate
endeavor had proven fruitless. He must have committed everything to memory.
It was possible, she supposed, that she might be able to seduce it
out of him. She would have to play that card very carefully, however. The
old Mousse, sappy, cloying, and worshipful, would have been an easy mark
for her feminine wiles. The new Mousse was wounded and wary, and therefore
armored against her. Discovering and exploiting the chinks in that armor
would require careful observation and boundless patience.
If nothing else, she told herself, I have plenty of time.
She drew herself up from the room's single chair, set upon her new
course of action.

* * *

Mousse was currently in the shower. Shampoo could hear the sound of
water splashing as she entered the Head, where she knew she could find him
because he had left their stateroom with his toiletry kit and towel. None
of the crew were present; it was just the two of them.
She slipped out of her clothes and set them neatly on the short bench
outside the communal shower bay. Mousse continued to bathe. His face was
directly in the spray of the water, and he was oblivious to her. She
watched him for a moment, admiring the way his long black hair spilled
over his shoulders and down his strong back, reaching all the way to a
tight, athletic butt that she grudingly admitted was nice to look at.
If there was a scar on his back from Herb's punishment of him, his hair
obscured it from her view.
She licked her lips nervously, knowing that her performance had to
be perfect, and stepped over the tiled sill that separated the shower bay
from the changing area. Mousse heard her bare feet padding over the wet
tile, and turned to face her with a look of astonishment.
"<Shampoo?>" he asked, his eyes drifting down her naked body and
lingering in those places men found particularly interesting on women.
"<What is it, Mousse?>" she asked in a bored tone of voice. She took
the showerhead two down from his own and turned the water on as if she
were completely alone.
He appeared somewhat crestfallen at her projection of ennui.
"<I, uh, I'm just surprised to see you here. That's all.>"
"<Surprised that I bathe?>" she asked with a come-hither look. There
was a teasing quality to her voice now, which made him suppress a shiver
of excitement. A thin smile graced her lips as she noted that another part
of his anatomy was starting to betray his true feelings. "<Why should you
be surprised about that?>"
She returned to wetting her body in preparation for scrubbing without
apparently caring if he responded. Mousse remained silent, his face starting
to burn because he could not stifle his growing erection, and because she
was right there to see it. Unwilling to do what first came to mind to ease
his affliction, which was turn on the cold water full blast, he settled for
turning away from her.
She suppressed a chuckle at this. So far her plan was working as she
had intended. This little taste of her naked flesh was designed to provoke
his feelings of love and desire for her, and was carefully seasoned with
the slightest hint that she might not be as cold to him now as she once was.
It was important that she not overdo it, as it might provoke his suspicion
instead.
She began to bathe in earnest now, lathering and scrubbing as if she
were the only person in the shower. She did not linger in her task, knowing
that she couldn't get him too worked up. Of course, a healthy rebuff of any
advances he might make could still work in her favor later. It just depended
on how heavy-handed he played it. She didn't expect much subtlety from him.
He surprised her by not doing anything untoward. Instead he rinsed,
shut off the water, and started awkwardly for the changing area. Her eyes
fell upon his back in that moment, and behind the wet locks of hair she saw
a livid flash of bright pink scar tissue against his pale olive complexion.
Pink's assessment of the scar was understated, she realized. It looked
like a terrible burn that had healed over with only the crudest of skin
grafts. What had the General done to him? she wondered. His sudden change
in attitude towards her finally made sense. He had suffered torture for her
sake, and her treatment of him had been as shabby as always. That would
have been enough to make her change her tune, had their positions been
reversed, but still the man loved her. He was just more guarded about it
now than before.
She felt somewhat guilty about that.
He toweled off in the changing area, casting furtive looks in her
direction as she continued bathing. She caught him cold once, and instead
of frowning as he might have expected her to do, she offered him a sly look
that could have been interpreted several ways. Let him guess what she meant
by it.

* * *

Kaneohe Beach, Maui Atoll
Planet New Hawaii, Alpha Centauri System
The Furinkan Combine
13 April 3025

"It's been days, cousin," Tetsuo Gosunkugi observed blearily. "How
much longer can this party go on?"
"What was that?" Hikaru asked. He lay on his back in the damp sand
with an empty half-coconut in his hand that stank of rum punch, and a
Force Five Hangover raging within the confines of his skull. His clothes
were wet and sandy, and his skin chafed from exposure to sun and seawater.
He blinked when he remembered to.
"Hey bruddahs," Kuno called to them. The man had an inexhaustable
stamina when it came to partying. He was currently dressed in a day-glo
yellow half-body wetsuit and carried a humungous pineapple-patterned
surfboard that was at least four meters long. The tiny bonsai palm tree
surgically grafted to the top of his head seemed to twitch with excitement.
"You awake yet? We go surfin' now. De tides, dey coming in, no shit. Dis be
Tube City in another hour, you watch, brah." He gave them appraising looks.
"You go get changed, yah?"
Hikaru shook the cobwebs from his head and tried to remember what day
it was. He remembered the sun coming up at least twice. Given the forty hour
cycles of New Hawaii's day, that meant...
"Gods above and below!" he cried. "It's the Thirteenth if not later!"
"Huh?" Tetsuo murmured. He had apparently gone back to sleep in the
interim.
"We've been here four days by the standard calendar!" Hikaru cried. He
looked around for his soldiers. They lay scattered about the beach asleep,
some with the Shogun's girls in their arms. The sundry debris of a marathon
luau lay scattered among them.
What was even more shocking, was that despite his troops' dereliction
of duty, the Shogun had made no attempt to escape. The man was either a
complete and total nut case, or else he was very, very clever. Hikaru was
not certain at this point which, but his suspicions were starting to favor
the latter.
He had succeeded in delaying them at least four calendar days from
taking him away from New Hawaii and packing him off as a hostage of the
League of Five Nails. In that time, Tatewaki Kuno was surely making his
way back through captured Confederation space to the Furinkan Combine.
While it was no secret that there was little love between father and son,
Hikaru knew at the very least that Tatewaki would be coming to avenge the
insult the League had given him with its invasion.
"You're setting us up, aren't you?" Hikaru said accusingly to his host/
hostage.
The Shogun of the Furinkan Combine looked offended.
"You get first class kama'aina treatment, brah," Kuno returned in
protest. "Plenty o' food, booze, music, and da kine wahines, yah?"
Hikaru turned to his cousin. "Get the men up and moving. Signal to
my DropShip for an immediate dustoff, and I want a report from my staff
on Prince Kuno's whereabouts."
Tetsuo pulled himself upright.
"At once, cousin."
"One more thing," Hikaru said slowly.
"Name it."
Hikaru Gosunkugi squinted at the sun with his watery, bloodshot eyes.
"Get me some ibuprofen. A whole bottle of it."

END OF PART FIFTEEN