Dennis Carr wrote:

DISCLAIMER:
Tenchi Muyo: Unfinished Business

A fanfic by Dennis Carr and Karmin St. Jean

Chapter 1:5 - Life?

Somewhere in the Orochi system, on a planet called Roen, one of
its sattelites were being occupied by the Argelians.  All for

"near a planet", "satellites".  Or you could just say "moons".  

some mineral used in the manufacture of a popular upset stomach
remedy.

*Well, there was titanium, too,* decided Steki.

Decided?  Either there was titanium there or there wasn't.  The 
previous paragraph should probably also be written from Steki's
point of view.  

As far as anyone was concerned, this was just another day, and
another stake on property that was rightfully somebody elses.  It
seemed like forever to some that they had been doing this, but
they had, in fact, only been doing this for a decade.  Take
hostages, negotiate using that chip.  Some didn't agree, such as
the Kazakians - however, such as the case of the Roenese, they
sometimes did agree.  The hostages were released, and the moon
they wanted was now theirs.  Granted, it was by criminal means,
but it was theirs.

"their's"

And it was Steki's paycheck, to boot.

And yet, he hated every credit he earned as an Argelian - even if
he was part of a race who was dedicated to interstellar mining.
Especially because he remembered having a home some twenty years
prior, that had to be abandoned due to the complete waste of all
available resources.

They were peaceful times that did not know the meaning of the
words hostage or piracy, he remembered as he boarded his drop
ship....

This looks like a segue into a flashback from this character's history.  
If it isn't you should change it.

---

October 18, 1998 at 12:15 PDT

Hikaru walked out of his condominium, wearing a tank top and
bicycle shorts, and carrying a shinai and a small inflatale raft,

"inflatable"

eye peeled for one Tenchi Masaki - who was nowhere to be found.

He was, however, to be found in his current home, the subject of
yet another argument.

"Tenchi, you must decide now," Aeka said, an almost pleading look
in her eyes.  "It's either her or me."

"Oh, why would he want a hussy like you?"

"And what's that supposed to mean, demon?"

"Um, guys--"

"This isn't about you, Tenchi!"

No, it really is.  "Butt out, Tenchi" might work better.

As she approached the bathroom door, she saw a very bedraggled
Tanaka, who had finished emptying her stomach, and was now
leaning on the counter, head planted in her hands.

"Mind if I take a look at you?"

Tanaka slowly removed her head from her hands, looked towards the
now not diminuitive redhead, and nodded.  "Sure."

"not diminuitive" is very clumsy.

The two walked out, Washu following behind, who quickly took a
sample from the toilet as she walked out, and only after
reassuring a tired-looking Trakal that yes, his wife is fine,

"was fine"

she'll see what's wrong with her, she took the lead, and the two

"she'd see"

women walked into the lab.

As was the usual routine, Tanaka placed herself on the table, as
Washu deposited the tube of vile whatever-it-was in a machine,

It's vomit.  

and picked up a device to scan her patient.

And again, as was the usual routine, Washu made a few odd grunts
as she studied her patient, finding nothing critically wrong, and
took a look at the specimin of vomit, and nodded in realization

"specimen"

of what the problem was - and paused to ask a question.

"Tanaka, are you allergic to aspirin?"

"Um, no, why?"

She then pressed a few buttons, and a pair of pink ovoid tablets
were produced by a machine, and dropped into a small cup, which
the scientist carried over to Tanaka.

"Here, take these."

"Um, Washu, last time you told me to do that, my hair turned
green for twenty-four hours, I grew horns, and I found myself
wearing a tiger-print bikini with matching gogo boots."

"Sorry, sorry, but this is compatible.  Besides, that was for
last Halloween, remember?"

She smiled slightly at the memory of the western holiday.  "What
is it?"

"Bismuth subsalicylate."

"Huh?!"

"I think you call it `peputo bisumoru' here," she said, handing
her a glass of electrolyte.  "Anyway, you have a slight case of
stomach flu, so it's really nothing I can do something about
except to give you something to settle your stomach.  

Really?  So it isn't "morning sickness"?

Swallow

those, wait a few minutes, then go back to bed.  You'll feel
better in the morning. By the way, how are you?"

"Other than sick to my stomach and tired all of the time, with a
sore back to boot and feet to match, just fine."

A short fifteen minutes later, Tanaka paid her fare, clambered
out of the cab, and despite the pain, decided the driver was more
qualified as a...oh, what did they call it in America?  Oh yeah,
an Indy Car driver.

Why use an American reference rather than just an international
one like "Grande Prix driver?"

She promptly barged through the door with the day's plunderings,
paused only to remove her shoes and drop her purchases, and ran
over to the kitchen - or as much as you can call it a run when
one is in labor.

"Somebody call Washu NOW!"