-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
jaustin@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 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.
"<I guess so. I really can't see them underneath all this food,>" 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 fiancée?"
"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 dismantling
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 fiancée?"
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 fiancée 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 a little 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 heavy rubber 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. "<I think Dmitri Grigoryvich may contest that,>" 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.
"<I think it is a clumsy and dangerous potion;>" 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.
"<I was just curious. I've seen you come up here to the lounge at least
six times since Los Angeles but you never get anything to drink and you
never stay long. You don't seem very comfortable either.>"
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.
"<I am visiting a friend there,>" 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 fiancée," 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.
"<I remember France. The Eiffel Tower actually. The other places didn't
seem very familiar.>"
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 fiancé 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.
"<I agree,>" 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 hands 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 heh!!" 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 Stolichnaya -the
good stuff, not the cheap leavings they exported to the rest of the world. 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.
"<I hope they were worth the trouble and expense,>" 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. "<I have not, Ivan Mikhailyvich.>"
"<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. "<I understand.>"
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. "<I have several
surveillance photos of 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. "<I would have told you, but I
know Saotome is trying to keep his curse a secret from the world at large.>"
"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!>"
"<I was not!>" 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. "<I can't believe I heard you use that word! I
thought we were scientists.>"
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. "<I wonder, are you as
heavy now as a female as you are when you're male? You look like you've
lost thirty kilos easy.>"
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. "<I have no idea.>"
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 seen trained agents
crumble in half the time.
"<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!
