Back over Asran, Shin was in trouble. He'd expended his Sparrows, his
Sidewinders, and fired off every last 20mm shell. Four MiGs were on
his tail. The new kind, the `29. Fulcrums. All four were firing cannon
and barely missing. Even with his skill he knew he could only evade
them for so long. *Sayonara, my beloved Ryoko. The men I've slain are
about to be avenged. I wish I could be near you again, for just a
moment. But perhaps it's better that you don't see the bloodstained
killer I've become*.

Suddenly the sky behind him erupted in a blinding flash.

Ryo-oh-ki collided with the MiGs at about 5,000 knots, smashing them
like bugs against a windshield before leveling off. Ryoko  grimaced as
she watched the flaming wreckage cascading groundward. 

"Ooops. Sorry about that," she said, a guilty look on her face.

"Did we hit somebody?" asked Sasami in a concerned voice.

"Oh, just some missiles or something. I'm sure nobody was on them,
Sasami-chan. Nothing to worry about!" she assured her, patting the
girl's head. She turned around and looked at nothing in particular.

"Watch *out* next time, will you?" she hissed quietly.

"Miya."

They altered course over the central Arabian peninsula, heading
towards the Persian Gulf. The sonic boom shattered windows all over
Riyadh when they passed overhead at nearly Mach 8.

They came to a stop, hovering about five hundred feet above the
Iranian refinery on Kharg Island.

Amongst the pumping equipment and endless miles of pipeline, oil
workers looked up and watched in awe. Also watching were the crews of
the island's air defenses. They were incredulous. Despite the thing's
size, it didn't show up on radar at *all*!

The battery commander looked at the object, thinking. It was big. It
was strangely shaped. And it was invisible to radar. It could only be
one thing.

"One of the Yankee's B-2 Stealth Bombers!" he shouted. He raised his
fist and shook it at the evil tool of the Great American Satan.

Then he realized something. Those things carried *nukes*.

Terrified, he grabbed a microphone and radioed his superiors on the
mainland.

"This is Kharg Island! We're about to come under nuclear attack! The
Great Satan is going to bomb us!" He turned to his fire control
officer. "Acquire that thing visually and launch the missiles.
Everything we've got!"

In moments Kharg's entire arsenal of American-made "Hawk" SAMs
streaked skyward towards the weird flying object. As the missiles
found their mark, they exploded in harmless flashes of fire.

"Wow!" gasped Sasami, the glow from the hot shrapnel sparkling in her
large eyes. "Aren't those *pretty*, Ryoko?"

The two of them stood watching the bright display of fireworks
bursting all around them, just outside Ryo-oh-ki's skin.

At the same time, the word of an imminent nuclear strike by the Great
Satan had spread through the radio net of the Iranian Air Force. Every
Phantom, Mirage, and MiG they had screamed off the runways and raced
towards the distress call from Kharg Island.

The battery commander swore. All the missiles had hit the target, yet
it hadn't been affected in the slightest. There was no visible damage
whatsoever. "Damn that lying Colonel!" he cursed. "He sold us nothing
but *duds*!"

The beautiful explosions having stopped, Sasami turned her attention
back to the task at hand. "So, what's here that we're going to steal,
Ryoko?"

The galaxy's most-wanted space pirate grinned.

Meanwhile, an American AWACS had spotted what looked like every last
plane in Iran heading south towards the Gulf. He got on the radio and
urgently transmitted a warning. Minutes later, aircraft were lifting
off from airbases in Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, Qatar, Bahrain, the
Emirates, and from the decks of the USS Nimitz just outside the
Straits of Hormuz. Fuel poured into afterburners, sonic booms cracked
the sky open, and high-tech killing machines by the hundreds rushed to
intercept the Iranian air fleet.

Or primitive killing machines. It depended on one's point of view.

As almost every jet fighter in the Middle East converged on them,
Ryoko argued testily with her ship. She was getting very, very annoyed
with the stubborn cabbit.

"Look, I *told* you. I don't care *what* it tastes like. The
Earthlings consider the damn stuff valuable. It's *loot*. Start
bringing it up!"

"MIIYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!" replied Ryo-oh-ki in
disgust. The very *idea* was nauseating.

By now, F-14's from the Nimitz were looking ahead with their
long-range optical scopes, seeking targets for their Phoenix missiles.
One of them saw what was floating above the Kharg refinery.

"What the hell is *that*?!"

"I dunno, Iceman, but whatever it is, it's not showing up on anyone's
radar."

Hearing this, the Nimitz's commanding officer listened skeptically.
"If you idiots are making that up, I'll have you guys flying
plane-loads of cheap whoopie cushions out of Taiwan," he growled.

"Honest, sir, we can see it, but it's not on the radar. Not on
*anybody*'s radar."

Word of the object over Kharg was swiftly beamed by satellite to the
Pentagon.

"If you do it, I'll give you a whole *kilo* of carrots," tempted
Ryoko.

"MIYEEW!" said Ryo-oh-ki, sounding like she was turning her nose up in
the air.

Ryoko held up a pair of fingers. "Two kilos?"

In Washington D.C., a man dipped Chicken McNuggets in barbeque sauce,
sipped a diet soda, and watched television.

"Let's kick the tires and light the fires..."

The President of the United States muted the TV as the Chairman of the
Joint Chiefs ran in, while on-screen, somewhere over Los Angeles, jet
fighters launched missiles at an alien space vessel.

"It's the Iranians!" said the Chairman of the JCS.

"We know. Sit down!" replied the Secretary of Defense.

"So, what's this you've been telling me? The Iranians have developed
their own Stealth Bomber?" asked the President in an Arkansas drawl.

"Yes, Mr. President. That probably means they also have nukes. They
could be launching an attack on us at this very moment, sir. I think
we should go to full alert."

"Watch out for the shield! The shield!"

The Chairman of the JCS, the Secretary of Defense, and the Secretary
of State all face-faulted.

"Uh, Mr. President..."

"Oh, sorry. What were you saying?"

"I said we should go to full alert."

"OK. Go ahead... hey! Look out for the rocks! The rocks!"

Coded signals went to the NORAD base under Cheyenne Mountain. Readouts
blinked on the huge WOPR computer. A klaxon sounded, and a light above
the control room flashed "DEFCON-1."

In Moscow, a white-haired man munched pretzels and drank a Brewski.
They were very *good* pretzels. Not hard and crumbly, like the old
kind.

"YEEEEE-HOOOOOO!!!!!!!..."

The President of the Commonwealth of Independent States muted the TV
as a general from the Strategic Rocket Forces ran in, while on-screen,
somewhere over the USSR, a man in a cowboy hat rode astride a
plummeting nuclear bomb.

The general stopped and munched some pretzels and drank a Brewski.
Then he spoke.

"Mr. President, the Amerikanski just went to DEFCON-1!"

"Those stukakhs! Take us to our state of *maximum* readiness! They'll
see what happens to those who threaten Mother Russia!"

In Beijing, a man was working on a meal of steamed duck and very
famous Cantonese-style sweet and sour pork.

"... very *terrible* legend of panda who drown two thousand year
ago..."

The Premier of the People's Republic of China muted the TV as a
long-haired young man wearing white robes ran in and smacked into a
wall. The man put on his glasses, while on-screen, somewhere in Quan
Tri province, a panda attacked a boy standing atop a wooden pole.

"Curse those treacherous Russians and Americans! They've both gone to
full alert without warning us first!"

The Premier choked on his food. Why *now*? Did it have something to do
with the embargo he was demanding on Taiwanese souveniers, novelties,
and party tricks?

"You're saying we should go on alert as well?" asked the Premier.

"Yes! And there's an airstrike on Japan that needs to be launched
without delay!" He handed over a map.

"Nerima? There aren't any strategic targets *there*. What for?"

The long-haired man pointed to the X that marked ground zero.

"Isn't using nuclear weapons to take out a single dojo kind of...
overkill?"

"He will rue the day he tried to take my shampoo away from me!!!"

The Premier blinked.

"Your *what*?"

Far away, in the skies over Kharg Island, negotiations were still
underway.

"Ten kilos?" asked Ryoko, holding up all her fingers.

"MIIYYEWWW!" refused Ryo-oh-ki again.

Ryoko frowned for moment, frustrated. She'd run out of fingers.

Or maybe *not*.

She concentrated for a moment and split into two identical copies.

"*Twenty* kilos?"

"MIYEEEW!!"

Ryoko sighed. She'd just about given up trying to cajole her ship into
following her orders.

"I can't make her, Sasami. She won't listen to me," she apologized.

"Please, Ryo-oh-ki. Please?" pleaded the princess.

Ryo-oh-ki considered it. She really liked Sasami.

"Miyew," she said finally.

"It's OK, Ryo-oh-ki," assured Sasami. "If it's that bad, we'll find
something else to do."

"MIYAAAA!!!!" said the cabbit-ship, happy that she'd been spared such
a revolting task. Joyously she zoomed spaceward, getting as far away
from the disgusting black fluid as she could.

Just in case Sasami changed her mind.

A while later, oblivious to the hornet's nest they'd stirred up, the
galaxy's most-wanted pirate and her would-be trainee gazed out into
space. Sasami stood next to Ryoko, her eyes downcast in
disappointment.

"Won't we get to do *any* pirating tonight?" she asked sadly.

"I'm sorry, Sasami. There's just not much around here worth stealing.
And if we go outside the Solar system, we'll run into Galaxy Police
besides Mihoshi and Kiyone. It'll be a *real* *hassle*."

"I guess you're probably right," agreed Sasami reluctantly. "I just
wish so *much* we could have done some real pirate stuff."

Ryoko sat down and hugged her. "We had fun though, didn't we?" Sasami
smiled and nodded. "There's more to being a space pirate than just
stealing things, Sasami. You have to fight the forces of law and
order. And you have to have fun. *I* think *that's* the most important
part." Ryoko paused and thought for a moment. "It'll be a while yet
before we have to head back. As long as we're up here, how about we do
a little sightseeing?"

"Yeah! Where should we go?"...

High above Catalina Island, they sat observing the sights of Southern
California. At the moment they were watching surfers hanging ten off
Seal Beach.

"That looks like it would be fun," commented Ryoko. She paused. "If
the waves were a bit bigger."

They scanned down the length of the Hollywood Walk of Fame, reading
the names.

"I know a couple people *I* would add down there," said Sasami
hopefully.

"I don't think Ai or Chisa will get their stars any time soon," Ryoko
replied, regretful and just a little angry. "They don't give them out
for things like that."

"But why not?" demanded Sasami. "They *deserve* it. Really they do.
It's not fair! Why *not*, Ryoko?"

"I'm sorry, but I don't know, Sasami-chan," answered Ryoko with a
shrug. "You tell me."

As the sensor focus passed through Brentwood, it chanced upon a
mansion with a white Ford Bronco parked in the driveway. Inside stood
a tall, muscular man clad in a leather body suit and a football
helmet. He wielded a whip, with which he lashed a shadow-hidden
figure, and as he did so the sensors' audio pick-up piped in his
shouts.

"`O.J.-sama' to oyobi! `O.J.-sama' to oyobi!"

Ryoko and Sasami looked at each other and cringed, blushing blue.

"I don't think I want to see any more of *that*," said Ryoko,
shuddering.

"Neither do I," agreed Sasami. "It was really yucky."

Quickly they shifted their view northeast.

"Hey, wait a minute! Are those *pirates*?" asked Sasami.

"Sure looks like it," agreed Ryoko.

"Let's get a closer look, Ryo-oh-ki!"

"MIIYYAAA!!!"...

Ryo-oh-ki hung in geosynchronous orbit two hundred miles above the
Nevada desert. Directly over Area 51, ironically enough. Ryoko and
Sasami had just finished using the long-range sensors to watch the
pirate show in front of the Treasure Island Hotel & Casino again. The
heroic rogues had blasted the forces of law and order into the
hereafter. Which was as it should be. It was almost time to head home,
though.

Ryoko made the sensor focus flit about Las Vegas at random, admiring
all the pretty neon lights. Especially the ones that matched her hair
or eyes. Then on a whim she decided to test the magnification. The
objects on the screen ballooned crazily, enlarging until a knot of
people, then one sad-faced man, then the newspaper he was reading,
then a single article filled the view. *I wonder what it says...
hmmm... WHAT?!*. Suddenly she face-faulted in a heap, then leapt back
up to continue reading, her expression grim, then angry, then livid.

"...and includes, without limitation, a cartoon or an animated film...
which contains a visual representation or image of a person or portion
of the human body which depicts nudity, sexual conduct or
sado-masochistic abuse..."?!?!?!

"`Abuse'? Are they making fun of Juraian courtship rituals?" asked
Sasami in a hurt and puzzled voice. "I'm glad Aeka isn't here. She'd
be *really* *mad*."

"Grrr...!!" snarled Ryoko angrily, still reading. *Nudity*? What was
wrong with *nudity*? She *liked* nudity! To say nothing of "sexual
conduct." What prudes! On finishing, she drew herself up, stern and
fierce and eyes burning bright.

"Ryo-oh-ki, prepare to fire!" she ordered, indicating the targets.

"MIIYYAA!"

Sasami jumped up and down enthusiastically. "We're going to attack
something, Ryoko? Cool!"

Ryoko bared her fangs and pointed. "FIRE!!"

"MIIIIYYYYYAAAAAA!!!!!!" 

Avenging crimson beams of energy lanced Earthward.

On the planet's surface, two huge explosions blossomed fiery red
amidst mighty "BOOOOOOOMMMM!!!"s. In space, there was silence.

Moments later, smoking craters were all that remained of both the
Nevada legislature and governor's mansion.

"Wow! So *that's* what it's like to be a space pirate!" exclaimed
Sasami. Ryoko nodded and smiled. *Now* it was time to go home. She
borrowed Sasami's eyepatch and pirate hat and put them on. Then she
held up her energy sword in salute.

"Ryoko no Ryo-oh-ki - hassheen!" she shouted, and the Earth rolled
beneath them. As they crossed California again, thin red beams blazed
down, dancing. Kanji glowed, etched hot into the stone on two squares
on a sidewalk in Hollywood. Then they were over the Pacific, its deep
blue water sliding past as they headed westward towards a house
somewhere in the isles of Nippon.

The pirates had smashed the forces of law and order once more.

Which was as it should be.






...

The following are two scenes that I took out because I felt they
interrupted the flow of the story. But I like them nonetheless, so I'm
including them here. Originally, they were happening while Ryoko is
haggling with Ryo-oh-ki while they're over the Gulf.

...

Inside the halls of the Capitol building, a page barreled through the
crowds as fast as he could, pushing people out of his way. He had to
brief the Speaker of the House on the deepening world-wide crisis. In
an hour, the President was going address a joint session of Congress,
and his entire cabinet were already here to watch the speech. And in
case there were questions of constitutionality to be answered in the
midst of the urgent situation, the Supreme Court had been hurriedly
brought over as well.

He ran as fast as he could, sweating profusely, knocking down the
prime-time news anchors for all three networks and kicking CNN's Wolf
Blitzer. Suddenly, a man with long white hair and wearing jeans and a
Megadeath t-shirt loomed in front of him. The page shoved him aside
with frantic shout.

"GET OUT OF MY WAY, YOU BASTARD!!"

The white-haired man turned and his eyes glowed red. "Don't talk to
*me* that way, fuckface! I'm the slender, handsome, popular hero!! And
your fate was sealed as soon as you showed your ugly face. Brat!!!" He
began to gesture wildly and chant. "Kaizard alzard kisuku..."

Tourists, politicians of both parties, lobbyists, reporters, and
members of various congressional staffs watched the obviously-insane
individual's antics with amusement, as the Sergeant at Arms moved to
restrain him.

Across the corridor, two teenagers, one wearing a blue t-shirt with a
Metallicana logo on it, watched in awe, stopping every few moments to
head-bang and perform air guitar solos.

"Whoa! This is gonna be *cool*! This guy's even cooler than *TODD*!
He's gonna kick that guy's ass."

"Use the evil fire sword! The fire sword! Fire! Fire! The efreet
ROCKS!!"

"Baaathe Yohko-san, and brrring herrr to *me*!"

Further down the hall, someone sneezed.

"Use Venom! Venom! In the darkness of Hell, the fire of Hell! Fire!
Fire! Be my sword and destroy my enemy! Venom RULES!!"

A bespectacled man with long blonde hair and a beard walked up to the
pair. "Now, boys, I told you you're not supposed to get separated from
the rest of the class during the field trip," he chided gently.

A bright blue aura began to flow through the air from the white-haired
man to the blond adolescent, who suddenly started to convulse and
pulled the back of his shirt over his head. He gestured and chanted as
if in the midst of some kind of seizure.

"Are you threatening me?! You will give me teepee!! The streets will
flow with the blood of the non-believers!!! Lake Teepeekaka's
exploding fire!!!! Be my bunghole and destroy my enemy!!!!!
CORN!!!!!!!! HOLIO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Black fire enveloped the bearded man. His bloodcurdling screams of
horrible agony died away slowly as his flesh dissolved and he sank
into the ground.

"That was pretty cool," said the other boy. Then he looked down the
hall, and his eyes bugged out. "Whoa! Check out that chick's
*thingies*!"

"Hehhehehehheh... BOIYOIYOIYOIYOING!!!"

The two of them stared, blood cascading from their noses like red
versions of Niagra Falls.

"I have been to the top of the mountain. And it is good!" said the one
with brown hair, just before the two collapsed and died of terminal
blood loss.

In the area they'd been staring at stood a rather shapely dark-skinned
woman in a skimpy white swimsuit and sunglasses. Next to her were a
muscular Japanese man holding a camcorder and a short,
casually-dressed red-haired girl wearing a button with the words "Kiss
Me" on it. The three of them were watching the chanting and gesturing
white-haired man and conversing in low voices.

"I *knew* he'd cause trouble if I let him out again," worried the
girl.

"Shouldn't he have done this earlier, anyway?" asked the woman in the
swimsuit.

"He couldn't. The people reading this story hadn't reached our scene
yet, and they'd never forgive the author if he let us go ahead without
them," the man reminded her with a grin, as he recorded the event for
future viewing. "I sure hope the Secret Service doesn't get upset
about this next part."

He waited for a moment, noticing something.

"You're reading my next-to-last line right now, so it's almost time. I
think you'll like the part when we get to Las Vegas."

"...HALLO!!!! WEEEEN!!!!!!!!" screamed the white-haired man finally.

The entire top of Capitol Hill vanished in an enormous explosion.

The smoke cleared, and the white-haired man and his three companions
stood untouched amidst a pile of smoldering rubble, as the ashes of
all three branches of the United States' government wafted on the
breeze.

"Whoa! That was pretty cool," he said.

"Hehhehhehehhehhehhheh! You said 'ween'!" said the muscle-bound
Japanese man. "Hehhehhehhehhh.... 'Hollow weiner'. Hehehheh...."

"I am the tall, popular, slender, handsome wizard! And you must all
bow down and kiss my butt! Huhuuuhhuhuhuhuhuhhh..."

The Japanese man pulled the back of his shirt over his head and began
to have a seizure. "Are you threatening me?! Do not make my Devil
Sword angry! My ninjas, they are without bungholes. Our fortress is at
Lake Teepeekaka! Teepeekaka! Teepeekaka!"

"Baaathe Yohko-san, and brrring herrr to *me*!"

SLAP! "LUCHE-KUN! STOP BEING SO HENTAI!!"

"Oooh... come to Darshuu. Hey, baby -- you wanna... *do it*?"

SLAP! SLAP! "I SAID STOP!!!!"

"But, Yohko-saaaaan...."

"Hehhehhehehheh.... you're *never* gonna *score*! Hehhehhehhh..."

"Shut up, dillweed!" The white-haired man began to gesture and chant
again, as the sound of police and firetruck sirens approached.
"Brai-brain dead..."

...

In the United Nations building in New York City, an urgent meeting of
the Security Council had been convened. 

"Look at the nice delegates gathered all around us," observed a
tourist. "I wonder what they do when they're not so busy?"

"Drink, smoke, watch TV, and gamble," answered the tour guide. "It's a
tradition."

The bald ambassador from Britain leafed through a volume of
Shakespeare while he watched, a little annoyed, the delegates from the
USA, CIS, and PRC arguing heatedly. A waiter walked up to him.

"Would you like anything to drink, sir?"

"Tea. Earl Grey. Hot."

"At once, sir."

"This is all *your* country's fault, you dried-up old prune!" yelled
the American ambassador, after ordering a case of Bud from the waiter.

"Da! What he said," agreed his red-haired female counterpart from
Russia, turning to have the waiter get her a Brewski and pretzels.

The ambassador from China bashed them both on the head with her staff.

"*WHO'S* dried up?!"

The American ambassador rubbed his skull. "The esteemed lady from
China's negotiation technique leaves a lot to be desired," he
grumbled.

"What did you expect, sonny boy? I left the stun gun back at the
restaurant."

"Will the gentleman from the United States please resolve this matter
quickly so that he might move his junkheap from in front of the
building?" asked the delegate from France.

"What was that? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?" demanded the American.

"Herr Ambassador aus France said you should move das Scheissmobile,
und schnell!" replied the German representative. "Es ist
double-parked. Und das BMW aus Deutschland ist sehr besser, anyway. Du
musst nicht underestimate das V-12 engine."

The US delegate grabbed some walnuts from the waiter and stuffed them
in his mouth, snarling and clamping his teeth down on them.

"Was ist los? Was machen Sie?" asked the German nervously.

The walnuts cracked and the American's sunglasses popped off.

"'SCHEISSMOBILE'?!! `JUNKHEAP'?!! LIKE HELL!!!!" shouted the
representative of the United States, as he pulled a combat knife and
charged at the two Europeans.

...


NOTE: This story should not be taken as an advocation of violence or
vandalism against the United Nations, the United States of America,
the State of Nevada, the City of Hollywood, or any of their property,
employees, or citizens. 

Unless, of course, you're a most-wanted galactic criminal with a
transforming cabbit space-battleship at your disposal, or a
white-haired heroic yet evil mage wielding an arsenal of heavy-metal
spells. I couldn't refuse you two anything. You're my favorite anime
characters of all time, after all. 

Just teach me Halloween and Raven, and give me a ride to orbit, if
you're in the neighborhood. I'll carve your seiyuus' names on the
planet's crust in kanji miles wide and deep to pay my tuition and
fare. Because this isolated ball of mud reeks too much of the mundane
for me. And I want off it.

*Now*.


Hassheen!