Ranma 1/2 is the property and invention of Rumiko Takahashi. The
following story is not produced for any monetary or personal gain.  
	
	Keep in mind the journey is almost always more interesting than
the destination.
	
Journey 
	
Part Three: Tea With Splynncryth
	


Chapter 9


	Ranma ducked under one glowing blade while moving inside his
opponents guard in order to get close enough to deal with the other.
"Butterfly Kiss!"
	This declaration of his move elicited a groan of dismay before
his foe well flying a dozen meters back before impacting with the
practice arena wall.  From her shallow impact crater where she was
imbedded in the wall Shampoo glared at her airen.  "Ranma!  Why do you
always end the match that way?" she groused petulantly, "You've had that
move used on you enough by the old pervert to know how aggravating that
is."
	Ranma smiled widely at this complaint.  The move was overused
but he had a reason for it.  "Now if I use it all the time how come you
haven't come up with a counter for it yet?"  When Shampoo asked him this
question he replied that it was for her own good, in reality it was more
for his mental health.  When he first started sparring with the Amazon
whenever he called break she would immediately move in closer and
lightly brush up against him as she walked with him out of the practice
area.  It wasn't really hanging on him and the contact was never heavy,
more shear proximity than anything else.  However, it was more effective
than when she used to drape herself around him.  In self-defense he had
started ending the matches by getting her as far from him as the arena
allowed.  With the improved durability the world granted them, crawling
from a crater was nothing more than messy.  The fact it allowed him to
get to the exit without his Amazon partner was the main benefit.
	Shampoo herself was beginning to suspect as much.  While Ranma
no longer turned into a gibbering idiot and he didn't have to worry
about the fianc�e brigade witnessing any acts of impropriety she saw
that he was uncomfortable with her closeness.   Still, he never
protested, simply kept in motion so it was more difficult for her to
stay close to her.  It was a game of cat and mouse and she was loving
it.  It was a war on Ranma's subconscious, obviously the frontal
approach wasn't working.  She must have been out of her mind to think it
would.  It was a wonder Great grandmother hadn't had her sedated.  No,
it was vital to her new plan that her airen become used, even
comfortable, with her presence.
	It was working too.  Sure he fidgeted a bit, but he didn't
scream or yell for her to leave.  She had even noticed him inhaling with
an abstract look on his face as he noticed her perfume.  It was the
first time since she started chasing her erstwhile husband that she felt
that progress was being made.  It might take time but for some reason
she seemed to have much more patience than before.  Still...the
Butterfly Kiss was obviously Ranma's way of getting space.  She'd have
to scale back her efforts yet again.  Patience.
	As Ranma walked out to the lunch room he pondered their
progress.  Shampoo had really improved quite a bit now that she was
concentrating on it.  It was a relief to have a serious partner to train
with.  Usually it was Ryouga.  Admittedly Shampoo couldn't push him as
hard as the lost boy could but the blued haired Amazon was a competent
package.  Akane was a nice girl when she wasn't angry at something but
she had these blind spots.  Cooking, swimming and martial arts were
three of them...and P-chan of course.  She couldn't believe that she
wasn't proficient at these things and so proceeded as if she had
expertise far beyond what she possessed.  With martial arts at least it
wasn't as if she was incompetent, she just believed she was far better
than she was...and therefore was unable to do the work that would enable
her to have her beliefs matched in reality.
	Ukyou was different, it was her goal to excel in her school.
And in her school she was unmatched.  Naturally in Anything Goes style
combat she lacked the skills to keep up, but that simply was not her
desire.  She was, at heart, a cook.  Few could match her in this area
and her competitive instinct was only actually engaged within this
realm.  This focus had allowed her to surpass Akane's diffuse efforts
and kept her on par with Shampoo when the Amazon's attention was solely
on Ranma.  Now that Shampoo had once again started to train she began to
demonstrate why she had once been the best of her age in a village
dedicated to warrior women.  
	The Amazon could be hot blooded in combat but after being
knocked on her butt a few times she settled down and focused.  No
complaints that he was too fast or hitting too hard, just buckling down
to improve what she needed to in order to accomplish her goal.  Ranma
himself had taken some time to get into his partner/mentor mode.  He
hated striking the woman but in an arena where death could come to the
loser he had to ensure that she was prepared.  Better a few bruises now
than death later.  Ranma had to frequently remind himself of this.  
	As for training, Shampoo would improve by simply sparring
but...there were faster ways.  Ranma had never taught anyone but he knew
there were better ways.  Recently he had taken a few minutes before and
after each session to try to analyze Shampoos strong points and weak
points.  Ranma firmly believed that there was no one in existence who
could do this better than he could.  Usually he used this to dissect his
opponents style and either imitate it, incorporate it or counter it.  He
had never tried to improve upon it for someone else's benefit...until
now.
	Each session he would try to press Shampoo in a specific
fashion.  Whether it was to push her speed-wise, endurance or fluidity,
each spar would have a goal.  Usually after each spar he would then go
over the specific maneuvers he had seen as lacking and she would spent
time on her own smoothing or correcting these with improvised katas.
Shampoo wasn't picking things up as fast as he himself would have but he
had trained with others enough to realize that she was really very
talented in her own right.  Ranma wasn't positive but he might go so far
as to say that except for the old ghoul she was the most skilled female
martial artist she had ever met.  Masayo had more power and White Raven
was...well mostly an unknown but as far as skill went Shampoo was very
good.  Combined with her new psionics and durability and she was
formidable.
	Ranma was going to cut today's training short.  The dragon that
was hunting him stayed away from the training arena during the day and
stalked him at night.  Ranma actually enjoyed teasing the brute, leading
him around dark alleys, cutting his aura, circling around back and then
letting his presence be known.  Usually by throwing a bit of garbage, a
taunt or similar obnoxiousness.  The dragon would then go on a rampage
trying to get to him.  Ranma was sure that if the eye hadn't been above
watching him and probably enjoying the comedy skit, the dragon would
have been banned from Atlantis from shear collateral damage.  When Ranma
got tired of this he would simply ghost away.  He had no intention of
formally confronting the beast until he knew more about the abilities of
that breed of dragon.
	One of the things he had noticed is that while he was playing
tag with the black dragon the assassins would leave him alone,
retreating just inside visual range.  From the aura of the watchers it
was apparent that more than the first two Sunaj were involved.  All
counted there seemed to be fifteen people working on his case.  He would
let them follow for a few hours, play with the dragon, and then
disappear.  Or rather he would employ his more advanced stealth
techniques and then the hunted became the hunter.  
	He had spent many hours tracking the habits of the people
assigned to his 'case'.  He knew where they lived, worked and played.
Most importantly he knew where and when they wouldn't be missed.  Now
that he had laid the groundwork it was time to take care of the Sunaj.
His manager had gone into extensive details regarding tattoos and their
abilities, he was aware of the limitations of the armor and weapons.  In
other words there was no reason to delay any further.  The dragon would
wait on more research, the assassins had their time in the sun and it
was time to sweep the board of them.
	

	Ranma waited patiently.  The first victim was due home any
minute.  This would be a test of the preparations he had made.  It could
be the apartment was monitored by higher technology than that he had
taken into account of and he would soon be inundated with assassins.  It
was because of this possibility that he had chosen one of that the
assassins that lived isolated away from most neighbors as his guinea
pig.
	Looking about the room he noticed how sparse it was.  A bed,
dresser, table and chair.  It was obvious that everything had come with
the room.  It was kept with almost military precision, everything
folded, the bed made and no dirty clothes.  This alone told him quite a
bit about the character of not only the assassin but his guild.  The
room spoke of temporary placement and the tidiness spoke of discipline
and perhaps a lack of personality.
	Footsteps were heard outside, Ranma verified that his own aura
and presence was generally suppressed and glanced to the side where a
small device from his manager was supposedly telling the security
systems that nothing was wrong.  That would come into play once he
dropped his attempts at stealth.
	The door opened and into the room strode a large man in armor.
He wore the typical armor the pigtailed martial artist had come to
expect from his profession.  The head was somewhat personalized, showing
a scaled beast, perhaps a parody of a basilisk. 
	The armored man took one step into the room when Ranma reached
over to the man's shoulder, pushed him over an outstretched foot and
struck the back of the helmet with surgical precision.  The Sunaj wasn't
anywhere close to being subdued with the one strike and his muffled
voice could be heard yelling for backup inside the damaged helmet.
Recovering, he somersaulted to forward to his feet, glancing wildly
about for his attacker.  A shimmering blue field sprung up around the
man.
	Ranma smiled in satisfaction.  So far, so good.  He engaged his
stealth once more and hung from the ceiling above the other man.  He
leaped down upon the hapless man began to methodically beat the other
into submission.  The room was small, without too much space to maneuver
but against a single physically inferior foe this was actually in his
favor.
	Five force fields later Ranma's smile was a bit more forced.
The man was almost out of energy for those damn protective fields and
since Ranma kept disarming his foe the armored man also had to waste
energy re-summoning the swords but the battle was being drawn out into
minutes rather than the seconds he had expected.  Time to improvise.
Ranma was good at that.  
	Leaping around the room and gradually converting his chi into
harnessed kinetic energy, he initiated an older maneuver.  "Meteor
Kick," he shouted while rebounding from the ceiling directly above the
armored man.  The Meteor Kick was first used on Pantyhose Taru, it used
chi and kinetic energy in a way similar Happosai's Butterfly Kiss,
however it took more time to build up the energy.  The other difference
of course was it could do a huge amount of damage.
	Upon impact the force field dissipated like a soap bubble in a
furnace, the helmet beneath shattered...and so did the floor beneath
them.  The apartment was on the third floor and the two rocketed through
all the levels until solid ground was impacted...and the Sunaj tunneled
straight down until he was imbedded into the concrete up to the
shoulders.  Ranma, who was still standing on his opponents head lightly
leaped off.
	Reaching over into the debris that now surrounded them he picked
up the shattered helmet and careful examined it.  It was as his manager
thought.  His first strike had indeed disabled the helmet's radio
system.  Satisfied that he had a bit of time he kneeled in the rubble
and took the limp man's head by a lock of his hair.
	"You and I are going to get to know each other very well," he
said good naturedly as if speaking to a pet, "Oh, yes we are."
	

	"So Fred, tell me again what an Atlantean is?" Ranma asked in a
puzzled voice.  He had evidently walked into a mess of politics.
	"I can't understand why you forgot about this, Uncle Ranma," the
other man protested.  "I thought you said I was suffering from memory
problems."
	The two men sat in the remains of the basement, several ragged
chairs had been salvaged from the wreckage and were having a very civil
conversation.  Despite the smashed concrete and dirt that was strewn
around area the man Ranma called Fred was pristine from the neck up and
the scent of shampoo hung in the air.
	"Indulge me Fred," Ranma said congenially, "As you can see we
were caught in a natural disaster.  I remember much of what you forgot
but I need to know about our proud clan."
	"Are you sure my names Fred?" The other man said in a confused
tone.
	"Of course I'm sure, nephew, why I named you myself," Ranma
assured.  "Now go on, I so admire our brave history."
	"Well, as you know, our race the Atlanteans lived on this
continent ten thousand years ago," Ranma nodded in encouragement.  He
had heard of Atlanteans during his stay with Anhur.  They were an
offshoot of the human race with great physical and magical abilities.
They were supposed to enjoy using tattoo magic and pyramid magic.  Until
he had arrived in Atlantis he had no idea what tattoo magic was, he was
still unsure what pyramid magic was.  He doubted it had much to do with
the New Age magic some of the funny Americans played with.
	"Well the mages of the time used the energies stored in the
pyramids to try to open an experimental rift.  The magic rebounded out
of control and a huge rift formed that spread from the coast of Atlantis
to what is known as the South American shores.  The dimensional vortex
led to a thousand worlds and many monstrous creatures were dropped on
the unprepared populace."  The man didn't look particularly horrified by
the story, more vexed.
	"Many lives were lost before the rift was finally closed.  The
creatures that had been left behind either went into hiding or
eventually were slain.  However the earth was damaged.  Magic energies
flowed out of the planet and were not renewed as is normal in a healthy
planet.  Our way of life and civilization is heavily dependent on magic
so this created a problem."
	Ranma grunted to himself.  Typical, an advanced civilization
experiences a disaster and all they think about is how they are
inconvenienced.  Okay, that wasn't a fair judgment but he was in a lousy
mood.  He also wondered if his own world had once had a similar
accident.  It too had relatively little magic.
	"The mages of the time were further horrified to learn that the
accident had destabilized Atlantis.  It was starting to fade into
another dimension.  One not amicable to life as we know it."
	"Hmm...can we fast forward just a little bit?  Ten thousand
years can take a while," Ranma interrupted starting to get impatient.
He didn't see how this applied to a bunch of people trying to kill him.
	"I'm surprised your mother didn't slap you if you interrupted
our sacred histories when she first explained them."
	"I'm incorrigible.  Now hurry up, nephew," Ranma urged.
	"Fine.  Our ancestors fled through dimensional gates before the
magic became too low open them again.  To repent for our role in the
disaster they decided to become galactic paladins.  Crusading to right
wrong and other such foolishness," Ranma turned a sidelong gaze on him.
How do you go from paladins to assassins?
	"Then Atlantis returned and a new leader headed our clan with a
dream," Fred's eyes gleamed with an almost religious fervor.  "No longer
would we humble ourselves to aid lesser creatures.  We would lead them
and slay those who stand in our way."
	"And the other clans," Ranma asked neutrally.
	"They must all, sadly, die," the man spoke with regret for the
first time in his voice.  "We have already started isolating them and
slaying them in small numbers.  We even once killed many at once, though
to ensure it wasn't traced back to us many brave families volunteered to
die with our enemy."
	"Wow, I'm impressed," Ranma nodded.  These people really were
nuts.  And they seemed intent on dragging some very good people down
with them in their insanity.
	"As you should be.  Through our hard work we shall bring glory
to our people.  It is worth any sacrifice."
	"Why the assassin thing?" Ranma asked, puzzled.  Not that he
expected them not to be killers after a story like that, but it didn't
fit yet.
	"In order to make arrangements to reclaim Atlantis and rid
ourselves of the weaker clans we created the Sunaj identity.  Through
them we were able to forge bonds of alliance with the current occupier
of Atlantis, Splynncryth as well as the other Splugorth."
	"Um, do you expect that he will give you the land back?" Ranma
asked curiously.
	"Either that or we will take it.  Until then we use his power
base for our own purposes," the man declaimed confidently.
	Ranma looked up at the eye that hovered in the corner, hidden by
its own means.  "Right."



	The armor clad man checked his helmet's chronometer for the
seventh time in as many minutes.  The latest shift of his agents had
failed to report.  He couldn't imagine what could delay five of his
people at once.  Most of them didn't socialize outside their duty.  They
had left their family behind for the greater glory of the race.  Work
was their life.  It was a necessary burden they gladly took up.  He
checked the clock again.
	He was at a loss.  They didn't respond to the communicator and
the guild magician was not due into work until noon.  He could almost
guarantee that the mage did not answer his comm., the old man was all
attitude.  Still...something was evidently happening; he really had no
choice but to try.  Nothing.  Damn arrogant mages.
	Starting to sweat he began to contact all of the Sunaj at the
local guild, even those who had just been relieved of their duty.  All
responded except the fifteen assigned to the human that Leviathan had
targeted, and the mage of course.  He immediately called the remaining
to him.  Somehow he had lost contact with half the local office and if
they had been targeted his choices were to order his men to go to ground
or gather them to regroup.
	This was Atlantis, they still had the favor of Splynncryth and
much leverage as being known as his minions.  He still believed that
even if his men were being attacked that sixteen Atlantean warriors
would be more than adequate.  Unless the authorities of Splynn
themselves were to align against them it would take a veritable army to
take them down.
	The sound of the door opening drifted to his ears and his frayed
nerves jerked his body into action as he reflexively aimed his rifle at
the door, internal energies were being marshaled in case a defensive
barrier or sword needed to be called.  He relaxed only slightly when he
recognized the beetle headed armor of one of the first of who he had
recently contacted.
	"It's a disaster!" shouted the newly arrived person.  "We have
the alert the clan master!  Unless we move it could be the end..."
	"Shut up and report!" shouted the commander, fingering his rifle
nervously.  He knew the man before him to he a stable reliable soul.  If
something had panicked him this much it had to be huge.
	"Didn't you see the front door?  It has our clan mark on it,"
the almost hysterical man continued.
	The commander blanched.  This could be a disaster.  The clan
mark was known more formally as the 'Mark of Heritage'.  Each of the
original Atlantean clans had their own mark to symbolize their lineage.
The main reason the Sunaj wore the hideous armor was not simply to
instill fear but to hide their identity.  Occasionally one of their own
was killed and body left, but as long at they were not identified
personally the mark could be shrugged off as simply a tattooed assassin
who either blindly emulated the Atanteans or someone actively defaming
them.  It was one of the reasons most of the lower ranks of the Sunaj
were drawn from the unknown or isolated people that had no reason to
meet the other clansmen.  However, now someone, probably the human
target, knew their connection to the Atlantean clans.  If the other
clans found out...and believed it...it would be an unmitigated disaster
indeed.  They were years from being in a position to eliminate their
enemy without taking huge losses in return, probably even then they
couldn't defeat the allied clans.
	"We may have to move early despite the inevitable casualties,"
the leader slowly stated, his rank hanging heavy on his heart.  "I
believe that Leviathan's target may be responsible.  I am unsure of how
he found out from our people but I...I think we have no choice but to
believe he did."  He still didn't understand how, they had defenses
against psionics, conditioning against almost any interrogation means
imaginable, even the armor was booby trapped to explode upon death and
take the body, and evidence , with it...but the conclusion was
inescapable.  "When the others arrive we will have to initiate an all
out simultaneous strike on the target and his companions," the commander
haltingly continued, verbalizing his thoughts.  "If we can capture him
and verify that the knowledge has not...reached our targets then we will
not have to initiate our plans early."
	Sighing he put the rifle aside and thought about what he would
tell the people that would be soon trickling in.  He activated his
empathy tattoo.  It allowed him to read the emotions of those
surrounding him.  With this he would be able to judge his audience
better.  How he broke this news to the people to be arriving would
determine much in the coming hours.
	He jerked his head to one side.  There was the panicky emotions
of the fellow across from him but there was also the cool, ice cold
emotions of someone else.



	Ranma had miscalculated.  It really wasn't the first time.  His
insight on motives really sucked.  It may have had something to do with
his father's philosophy.  Sure the 'taunt them until they are blind with
rage and swinging wildly' method worked in the short run but it always
seemed to cause trouble in the long run.  When he paused to consider it
really made complete sense.  He himself never fought harder than when he
was mad.  He had mastered his anger into a tool but he never tried to
kid himself that he wasn't furious when someone kidnapped or attacked
his fianc�es.  
	So why hadn't he thought more on the consequences of declaring
his knowledge to the Sunaj.  Instead of a statement that 'coming after
me was more than you can handle and you better back off' he had ended up
with 'if you don't come after me in your maximum force your whole clan
is doomed'.  That really wasn't the effect he was going for.  If he let
this continue he would have to protect Shampoo, and probably his manager
from an all out war with the Sunaj.  He could easily handle one or two
Sunaj freaks at a time but there were sixteen left in the city and they
were one dimensional gate from hundreds of reinforcements.  
	All in all he had better make up for his miscalculation before
it escalated beyond any form of redemption.  It shouldn't be impossible.
Only the two in room knew that he was aware that they belonged to a
rogue clan and if he got rid of the symbol on the door...hmm, why was
that fellow looking his way.  He had full stealth engaged and they never
activated those see invisible tattoos unless they actually thought they
needed them.
	Okay, I suppose I'll have to initiate Plan B sooner than I
thought, Ranma thought sourly to himself.



	"Hey Shampoo, you have any hand lotion," Ranma asked wearily.
He looked tired too, the magic clothes he wore had been damaged, and
although they were slowly re-knitting  themselves at present they were
torn, ragged and had huge splotches of blood on them.  Some of it was
even his.  The only portion of his body that seemed to be clean and free
of any sign of conflict was his hands.  
	"What happened to you?  Did the ghost cat start chasing you
again," the Amazon smiled teasingly, once a quick visual scan showed her
husband was in no real physical danger.
	"Ghost cat!  Where," Ranma shrieked eyes darting quickly around.
His nekophobia was not quite under control and he didn't think he could
concentrate enough at the moment to keep his fear under control.  
	"Now really, you should know I'm only playing with you,
darling," Shampoo volleyed back.  She would have done more desensitizing
of her own except that she was in the middle of morning calisthenics and
training had recently become a serious priority.  She could try to woo
her husband later.
	"I'll be gone for the rest of the day," Ranma said slowly,
sitting on the couch under the practice arena pavilion was feeling
really good after a whole night of frantic exercise.  He just wanted to
sleep so badly but had to finish what he started.  The leader had been a
real bear of a man and he had not been taken unawares like the other,
earlier Sunaj had been.  Ranma had been fortunate in taking out the
lackey early and had routed most of the collateral damage towards the
rear.  He had taken a beating but finally won just in time for the next
two assassins to rush inside.  These were much weaker but the constant
battles were beginning to take their toll.
	Ranma had gone to the front door, popped the hinges and replaced
it with the similar, unmarked door to the rear of the headquarters.
After destroying the door with the controversial symbol he had taking
out a basin of water, a bottle of shampoo and hunkered down to wait for
the people tricking in.  This wasn't his original plan, but...if there
were only fourteen left in the city who was aware of his involvement it
would be a shame not to take advantage of the opportunity to wreak
complete and total confusion.
	While he had waited for the assassins he searched the small
complex.  It was spartan however there was a modest but seemingly
advanced computer system.  Ranma couldn't really make head or tails of
it.  He had spent most of his time on this world in physical and
spiritual training.  Stay alive first and if you have any spare time
before you collapse in an exhausted heap, then worry about technical and
vocational studies, that was his motto.  He unplugged the modules and
stuck them into subspace for future reference.  Maybe Nabiki would like
it as a gift. 
	Ranma leaned his head back on the couch and rested his eyes for
a moment.  It had been bad.  He had never fought more than two Sunaj at
a time, but they seemed to come at him back to back.  He had trained
with Ryouga all day and hadn't been this tired.
	The smell of perfume and small hands massaging his shoulders
gradually lulled him into the border between sleep and wakefulness.
"I'd love to keep doing this all day but you seemed in a hurry when you
came in," Shampoo's soft voice drifted in his ear.
	"Hmm, yes.  Important," he said fuzzily, still half asleep.
"Lives could depend on it...especially ours."  Groaning reluctantly, he
staggered over to the main building where the manager kept his office. 



	Splynncryth bubbled in contemplation, relaxing in his pool of
therapeutic slime.  He hadn't had any idea that his gamble would pay out
such huge dividends.  He had allowed...or at least not interfered...when
the Sunaj had been contracted by Leviathan to kill his new toy.  He had
expected a long cat and mouse game.  After all he had known his cats paw
was powerful but what chance had he against thirty or more Sunaj?  Well
obviously more than he had thought.  The Splugorth was far from stupid.
He knew the principles of combat.  In order to subdue an opponent
without killing them it was necessary that you either have something up
your sleeve or be significantly more powerful.  His pawn had proved to
be both.  By stealth and strategy he had defeated his hunters in detail,
taking them down one by one where he could not overcome them in mass.
	This, combined with that odd method of hypnosis he had witnessed
seriously endangered the secrecy that the Sunaj relied upon to maintain
their effectiveness.  When the rogue Atlanteans had first approached the
Splugorth it had been obvious to the alien intelligences that this day
would come.  Secrets this large could not be kept forever.  The
revealing of this secret had a large possibility of resulting in the
deaths of a huge number of Atlanteans.  The 'good' Atlantean clans were
annoyances, the 'evil' mildly useful.  If they annihilated one another
he would be satisfied.  The irony would be humorous.  On the other hand
if the Sunaj survived they would be outcasts and driven deeper in the
welcoming arms of the Splugorth.  Not as amusing, but again, Splynncryth
could appreciate the irony.
	Did he want to interfere?  The Sunaj were adequate, if reluctant
tools.  He had been aware...all the Splugorth had been...that they would
eventually be exposed.  It would be fairly trivial to retrieve the
evidence of the Sunaj being an Atlantean clan.  Without hard evidence
the other clans would never react coherently.  And then there was his
most recent entertainment.  He was sharing the experience with other
beings of power.  Rhada, Abdul-Ra, perhaps Anhur, though his involvement
in the situation was unclear, and even Leviathan, though her involvement
seemed less benign.  There was the puzzle over why they were all focused
on one being, a mere human.  There was much more involved that he had
first assumed and nothing had been clarified.
	No.  He would let this play out more.  The Sunaj would serve his
amusement one way or another and they really were the least of his
minions.  They would survive or fall on their own merit...or come
crawling back to him to beg sanctuary.
	This decided he turned to the next aspect of his toy.  His skill
and power far exceeded his expectations.  So much so that if things
proceeded as they had there would really be no competition during the
next set of games in the Arena.  He could of course let the higher order
of his minions compete, but this would cause a disturbance.  His peers
would think he was 'fixing' the games.  The minions would likely slay
the lesser competitors out of hand and they had quite a following in the
city.  Not that he really cared, but if he caused unrest he would rather
do it for a purpose.
	Still the human had enemies that could not be dismissed.
Perhaps he should encourage them to enter.  At least one of them had
difficulties making the human stand still long enough to engage.  It
wouldn't be too difficult to point out the benefits of being in a large
but confined arena.  And if they killed all the lesser opponents then
any anger would devolve around him rather than Splynncryth.  
	Yes, that would be entertainment.



	"So you have no idea where any Atlanteans can be found," Ranma
inquired again, somewhat dispiritedly. 
	"Nope," the alien chittered, whistled and clacked.  "My business
is firmly grounded in the black mire of hopelessness that we know as
Atlantis," it stated in mild good humor.   "The Atlantean race are
widely known as wandering paladins and do-gooders.  Not a lot of that
going on in this town.  Or not for long, anyway."
	Ranma nodded to himself.  He had been so impressed with how well
his manager knew his way around the local system he had just assumed
that he had all the answers.  Thinking over the people he knew he was
slightly taken aback at the fact that most of them were considered evil
by most common philosophies.  Anhur, the god of assassins.  Wasn't that
a kick in the pants, it was ironic that he presently had such assassin
problems.  Obviously the Sunaj didn't clear anything through him.  Then
there was Abdul-Ra and Rhada, really nice people except for the cat
fetish demon thing.  Still he really had doubts that they rubbed elbows
with a crowd known to hunt devils, demons and similar evil.
	"Well, thanks anyway," he slowly made his way outside, lost in
thought.
	The alien clicked his mandibles in amusement.  It didn't know
what his prot�g� was up to but from all the oddball requests it was
fielding he was obviously hip deep in something.  It would be more
reluctant to aid the young man but he seemed to be a decent entity.  He
was also the best damn fighter it had ever had the pleasure to manage.
It had to admit that this fact aided in his patience more than anything
else.


	Ranma-chan used her senses to ensure that she had lost the
spying eye that the present Lord of Atalantis and resident uber squid
had tagged him with.  She didn't mind it following her around when she
was about her daily business, in many ways it was convenient not to have
to worry about the authorities.  However when she was planning on trying
to get in touch with what passed as the rebel underground it seemed
unwise to have a cosmic couch potato looking over her shoulder.
	After finding a relatively deserted spot she took out the small
cube the woman known as White Raven had given her and tried to activate
it.  This was a bit more difficult than she had originally imagined.
The cube was a featureless dull white, completely lacking in anything
that appeared to activate it.  After rubbing and pressing various parts
of the surface and getting no reaction she was beginning to get
frustrated.
	"Stupid box," Ranma-chan muttered angrily.  "If you need help or
wish to join us, use this," Ranma growled in a parody of White Raven's
voice.  "Why couldn't she just give me a flippin radio or something."
Disgusted she tossed it at her feet.  She was immediately engulfed in a
blinding white light.  When the brilliance faded the martial artist was
gone.
	


	"Okay, maybe this is better than a radio," Ranma-chan mumbled to
herself as she looked around at a small fairly comfortable carpeted room
with a couch on side and a wide screen on the opposite wall.  Her chi
senses detected a fair amount of magic but nothing living within several
hundred feet.  One thing she didn't see, which was slightly disturbing,
was an exit.  Ranma-chan walked over to the wall and tapped at it
lightly while examining it for breaking points.  While it seemed to be a
normal wall it was actually solid stone, not plaster or more
conventional building material.  A bit more investigation revealed the
whole room seemed to be hollowed out of living rock.
	"Right," the red head muttered to herself.  Talking to herself
seemed to be getting to be  a habit.  "A room with no way out except
teleportation."  Sighing she sat down on the couch and waited.



	"Hello," the mage known as Skippy repeated a bit louder.  He was
in the monitor room when the alert came in that someone was in the
contact chamber.  It was a simple matter to reach over and switch on the
cameras.  What he saw was a very fetching red head in red and blue silk
pants and a muscle shirt.  The girl was slouched in the overstuffed
couch her head leaning back and mouth open...snoring like a chainsaw.
	"This is silly," turning to one of the technicians in the room
he asked, "Is this thing on?"  He had been trying to wake the sleeping
girl but had received no response.  After hailing her multiple times he
had increased the volume, slowly becoming convinced that there was a
technical difficulty.
	The technician had been watching the one sided exchange from the
start and had already been checking the status indicators.  "Seems okay
from this end.  We may have to send someone in to check it.  Of course
this kinda screws with the security but it's either that or...well there
isn't anything else.  She's out of position for the portal so we can't
get her out from this side unless she moves."
	"Fine," the young man said petulantly, "Bring me a talisman bank
and I'll gate in.  Have a squad ready at the entrance to take care of it
if it's a trap."  The talisman bank was simply a stack of energy storing
devices that could act as a reservoir for the needs of larger spells.
Although they were rechargeable it usually took many days of hard work.
Skippy wasn't pleased at having to use one, he was the mage who had to
do the work of recharging it.
	Skippy had another take his station as he went to the more
secure area where the squad would wait for him.  This room had turrets
and armored walls.  It was meant to act as a secure area in case
something unpleasant followed them back from their forays.  After giving
a few commands to prepare the people, he tapped into the battery bank,
opened a portal and stepped through.
	The room looked identical to what he was expecting.  The redhead
was still sleeping on the couch and the large screen opposite her showed
the technician who had replaced her and his small lizard familiar that
he had left behind.  "Well?" Skippy asked.  "Is this thing working."
	"WELL I HEAR YOU FINE, HOW IS IT ON YOUR END," the technician
seemingly bellowed, sending Skippy reeling to the side of the room
clutching his head.
	"Argh!  Turn it down!  Turn it down," Skippy called out.
Looking at the girl still asleep he continued, "Send a medic in here, if
that didn't wake her she's obviously sick or injured.'
	Walking over to the girl he reached over to touch her shoulder.
He was surprised to see her seemingly roll over in her sleep avoid his
outreached hand.  Frowning he tried again found her moving in the
opposite direction.  Confused he tried several more times, faster and
faster.  Regardless of how he moves his advances were all avoided by
what appeared to be coincidental movement, suspiciously fast movement
but...
	"Oh, its Ranma," a familiar voice came from the speakers.
Turning Skippy saw White Raven herself on the screen.  He turned a mild
glare at the technician and received a shrug in return.  It was standard
procedure to notify her or her second in command, Max if something odd
came up.
	"I thought Ranma was a guy," Skippy muttered.  "Is she putting
me on?"
	White Raven sighed.  Skippy was a senior member of the
Resistance but was always lax when it came to keeping up with the
intelligence work.  She had put Ranma under intense mechanical
surveillance before she contacted him.  Unfortunately she had, at the
time, missed the Eye of Eylor and the water curse but she at least knew
some of his more obvious quirks.
	"It is simple training.  Just don't outright attack her and she
should be perfectly safe," White Raven saw a puzzled look cross the
young mage's face.  Why would he attack her, wasn't he...or rather she
on the safe list.  Raven saw this and smiled, one of the servants at the
arena Ranma was practicing in had let his frustration get away from him
and been a tad too aggressive.  The result was one servant on the other
side of a hole in the wall and a still sleeping pigtailed boy.  Raven's
brow furrowed in concentration as she tried to recall how Ranma's
training partner had dealt with this.  Oh yes.
	"Breakfast!" the woman called out over the speaker.
	Instantly Ranma-chan stood awake and alert looking around for
something edible.  After a moment she took in the glowing portal in the
center of the room, the presence of the mage and the larger than life
image of White Raven.  "Huh?" a confused Ranma-chan grunted, her brain
not quite in sync with her body.
	"So what brings you here," enquired Raven, not willing to wait
for the other to get her bearings.  "The last I heard of you there were
certain errands you had to finish before you could think of joining us."
	"Er...why am I here?" a confused look crossed her face and her
stomach growled loudly at her.  Her first reaction was to say breakfast
but there was something else she was here for.  Ah yes, "I need to speak
with an Atlantean."
	Now it was White Raven's turn to be confused, "Then why are you
here?  The continent is full of Atlanteans."
	"No, no," protested Ranma-chan while dismissing the statement
with a waving right hand.  "Not the big monster squid Atlanteans,"
Ranma-chan illustrated by waving her arms to demonstrate the tentacles
of a Splugorth.  "I mean the human Atlanteans who lived here ten
thousand years and caused their continent to sink in the first place
with a bungled spell."
	White Raven looked nonplussed for a moment.  As a dimensional
traveler she was well versed on events that had impacted the multiverse
on such a large scale.  Still what happened ten millennia was not on her
list of events that impacted the immediate events.  A moment of silence
continued as she concentrated on Ranma's statement.
	Ranma saw the blank look on the woman's face and continued.
"They wear tattoos and do things with pyramids...you know magic?"
	White Raven connected this description with a passing comment
Max had made regarding the history of his people.  "Oh.  Atlanteans!"
she stated in comprehension.  "I hadn't ever heard them
described...quite that way."  Most people she knew considered Atlanteans
crusaders and paladins.  Max would have a fit if he heard them mentioned
in this twisted manner.
	"Indeed," a voice said next to her dryly, "Quite refreshing."
She winced as she saw that the very Atlantean she had been thinking of
stood behind her.
	"Oh.  Max," she paused awkwardly.  "We were just talking about
you," she trailed off.
	"Great!"  Ranma-chan broke in enthusiastically ignoring the
stilted silence.  "So you're an Atlantean," Ranma-chan enquired eagerly.
"Funny, I thought you'd be taller."
	White Raven massaged her temples.  Her second in command was an
even tempered man outside of battle but this really wasn't how she had
planned to introduce the martial artist, who she viewed as a potentially
large asset, to her inner circle, who already were huge assets.
	"Well I am sure it's hard to live up to a reputation of
a...'bungler', I believe," Max asked with deceptive calm.  He didn't
know whether to outraged or amused.
	"Well, I'm sure you guys have gotten the spell thing down in the
last few thousand years, we all make mistakes," Ranma consoled
cheerfully.  The Atlantean really didn't look as tall as the others,
maybe he was malnourished, she thought to herself.  Of course he was
standing next to White Raven, who was really built.  Ranma-chan focused
her thought elsewhere.  She kept getting distracted by thoughts of food
and had no idea why.  "Er...if it wouldn't be rude, could I see
your...um," Ranma-chan racked her brains for the term the Sunaj had
used.  "...family markings?  No, I meant Marks of family...um...no,"
Ranma-chan was floundering.  "The tattoos on your arm that show what
clan your from?"
	"You mean the Marks of Heritage," Max supplied, his demeanor
slightly altering towards irritation as the subject became more
personal.  "I really have more important things to do than to deal with
admirer."
	"Admirer," Ranma-chan asked, thunderstruck.  "Of Atlanteans,"
her tone was so incredulous that White Raven winced and Skippy snickered
from the arm of the couch he had retired to in order to enjoy the show
better.  Ranma-chan was confused.  How had the tattoo guy jumped to that
conclusion?  She knew she was a bit crude language-wise but 'bungler'
had pretty much encompassed what little she knew of the Atlanteans.  She
hadn't expected Max to hear, but well, so far she wasn't impressed.
	"No, it's purely business," Ranma-chan continued, matter of
factly.  "I have a message, and I need to make sure it gets to the right
clan," or at least not to the wrong clan she thought.
	Max simply grunted, now thoroughly in a sour mood.  White Raven
gave him a subtle nudge and he sighed, moving to unlock the gauntlets of
the light body armor he wore.  He then held his wrist up to the camera
pick-up and an intricate design done in an almost iridescent blue stood
out.  Ranma-chan carefully examined the marking and hummed to herself in
understanding.
	"So you recognize the marking as the correct clan," Max asked as
he noticed the light of understanding enter Ranma-chan's eyes.  
	"Nope," Ranma-chan chirped, eliciting a start from her audience.
Really, she may have been endowed with the ability to read and speak all
languages from Anhur's gifting but the clan marking was a symbol and was
not actually a language.  The third eye tattoo had briefly activated,
obviously triggered by his close scrutiny of the tattoo, but it could
discern nothing of interest from a image on a view screen.  Out of the
corner of her eye Skippy burned bright with magical auras and the floor
was a triggered teleportation platform, but that really didn't interest
her at the moment. 
	"But I know who you aren't," the martial artist winked at the
people on the screen, "And that matters a heck of a lot more."
Ranma-chan took out a small metal rectangular brick, about an inch
across and handed it to Skippy.
	"I'm not into technology or anything but my manager says that
this is a," Ranma-chan's face scrunched up in concentration as she
prompted her memory.  After a moment she shrugged, gave up and took out
a pamphlet which she began to read from.  "The Mark XXIIM espionage
special.  It is able to store holographic data for two weeks of high
definition surveillance.  Find out what your competitor..." Ranma-chan
broke off as she realized that she had read too far into the
description.  "Well actually this is just the memory from one.  The unit
was an add-on to another device I was using to disable a security
system, or rather several systems.  I think it was ..." her face gained
another look of concentration and once again she shrugged and pulled out
another leaflet.
	"I think we get the point," White Raven interjected.  The
underground used these devices frequently in their war on the present
establishment of Atlantis.  She was confident that she was far better
versed on the devices Ranma-chan was talking about than Ranma-chan
herself.  Skippy suppressed another snicker which drew a glare from the
red head.
	"'Kay then," the martial artist stated shortly, slightly
disgruntled to have her spiel interrupted.  "Anyway, this has some
information on the Sunaj..."
	"I think I already mentioned that we don't have the resources to
openly help you," White Raven broke in once more.
	Ranma-chan spared her a brief exasperated look, then waved her
hand dismissively.  "Naw.  I've taken care of the Sunaj...or at least
the ones in the city."  The others drew up in surprise and skepticism at
this statement.  "They're involved in a bit of nastiness with the
Atlantean clans.  I just thought I'd give this to someone that could
pass a warning up to one of your leaders or something."
	Max leaned forward.  "The Sunaj were plotting against us," he
enquired in interest.
	Ranma-chan paused before she nodded, "I suppose that's one way
to say it."
	"One last thing, it's important that the Aerihman Clan doesn't
see this.  Anyway, I have a ton of things to do and I am so hungry I
could eat a horse, so if you could just send me on my way..." Ranma-chan
prompted.  At White Raven's nod Skippy tapped into the enchantment bound
into to room and the martial artist vanished.
	
	

	
	Nabiki sighed as she watched Akane play with the newly arrived
little girl, Komar, from the alternate Japan.  Looking over to where
Masayo frowned at the two disapprovingly she had to ask.
	"What made you bring her here," Nabiki asked the warrior.
	"She was missing Ranma," although the words were gentle the
expression as she looked at Akane was not.  Masayo did not get along
well with Ukyou, Shampoo or Akane, viewing them as wild little girls
with no self control.  Dangerous little girls with access to magic and
not insignificant skill.  "It's quiet on the other side.  The Oni are
pacified. The enemy has fled to somewhere unknown.  Since I travel here
often, I brought her with me to show here where Ranma lives.  It will
give her an idea of where Ranma grew up."
	"Er...Ranma only spent about a year here.  He grew up on the
road," Nabiki pointed out.
	"It doesn't matter, she's enjoying herself," Masayo's frown
deepened to again contradict her words.
	"You aren't to fond of Akane," Nabiki pointed out the obvious.
	"She really isn't bad as long as she doesn't see you as being
after Ranma," Jess broke in from the side.  She had often taken the role
as the peacekeeper when Nabiki was too stressed and Kasumi's aura of
tranquility failed.  She and Masayo got along well together.  Jess's
hard work, dedication to the martial arts and cool temper meshed well
with what the Demon Queller considered admirable.  
	"Her attitude grates on me," Masayo confirmed, ignoring Jess's
attempt to look on the bright side.  "Has Balthazar been punished," she
inquired, changing the subject.
	"Well, we threatened to ship him off home to meet the King's
justice if he did one more piece of unsupervised magic," at Masayo's
raised eyebrow, she continued.  "Supervised by me," Nabiki clarified.
	"Hmm.  Lenient considering he was largely responsible for your
companions demise," Masayo mentioned without regret.  She considered
Shampoo even more irrational than Akane.
	"Uh, Shampoo survived," Jess felt obligated to mention.  "She's
training to help Ranma in the Arena."
	"Oh good,"  the lack of sincerity in the Demon Queller's
statement was overwhelming, though she did wonder what the Arena was.
"Where's the princess?"
	"She's with Balthazar studying," Jess said.  Nabiki smiled
smugly.
	"I thought she hated the toad," Masayo asked her interest
raised.  Masayo didn't really like Cindra but then again she didn't
dislike her.  She was relatively harmless, if annoying.
	"She does," Nabiki said, "But I pointed out that as long as she
needs his magic to go places she's stuck with him.  Magic users can live
a long time.  I also pointed out that if she knew circle magic that she
wouldn't need to endure his presence anymore."
	"So she's willing to endure the maggot now for freedom in the
future.  I'm impressed I didn't know she had it in her."  Jess nodded at
Masayo's statement, she didn't know the princess had it in her either.
	"Any more problems with Ranma's...fianc�es," Masayo asked.
Usually she wasn't so grim but she always disliked talking about her
competition for Ranma's heart.
	"I haven't seen Ukyou since the incident, but I have to watch
Akane," Nabiki said, her own mood growing sour at the subject.  "Since
she found out that Shampoo survived and is competing with Ranma she has
been nosing around Balthazar when she thinks I'm not watching."
	"So she still is obsessing over Ranma," the Demon Queller asked,
oblivious to her own similar obsession.
	"Yeah, she also seemed to be spending a lot of time looking at
pictures of her and Ranma and things he gave her since he's been
around," she paused and then shivered slightly.  "I think she spends too
much time with the damn hammer Ranma gave her.  I'm not sure but I think
she may talk to it."
	"It's not a possessed weapon, is it," Masayo asked,her own
experience coming to the fore.
	Nabiki snorted, "Of course not.  It's pretty powerful but not
evil."
	"Be wary.  Often when people are seen to be speaking to powerful
magic artifacts, the artifacts are indeed talking back," the warrior
warned.
	Nabiki looked once more at Akane and Komar playing happily on
the living room floor and nodded.  She would take another look at the
weapon if she could convince Akane to let someone else touch it.



	Max, White Raven and Skippy sat in the council chamber.  After
the martial artist's declaration of hunger they had moved into the
chamber for several reasons.  The first was that the room had good
security so they could avoid casual eavesdroppers in the complex.  It
was unwise to spread too much information around in a city controlled by
the Splugorth.  The second was that the room was also equipped with an
advanced holographic projector.  It was usually used for maps and
strategic planning but it was often used to view surveillance
intelligence.  
	Skippy sat down in the chair he usually took and slid the small
memory brick into the reader and leaned back to watch.  The image being
projected was that of an empty room.  Used to dealing with surveillance
where hours, even days could pass before anything of note would happen
he leaned over to the keypad and gave the pre-programmed command to fast
forward until the image showed motion. A moment later he leaned forward
again he eyes widening.  The door opened and into the room walked what
was easily recognized as a Sunaj in armor.  He took one step into the
room before a young man, dressed almost identically to the red headed
woman they had just met, seemed to phase into existence behind the
assassin.  One blow almost split the helmet and sent the assassin to the
ground.  A minute of combat that was so fast it almost seemed a blur and
the Sunaj was sent through the floor with the martial artist following,
foot outstretched.
	After a moment of silence the young man leaped up through the
hole and the point of view shook for a while as the equipment was
relocated.  Skippy absent mindedly typed in the command to steady the
camera and provide an artificially smooth picture.  The new view settled
down to show the assassin embedded up to his shoulders in the ground.
His mask was off...shattered really...pieces of it could be seen stuck
to the man's hair and face.  The three people watching the drama looked
on with interest.  No reports could be found of what a Sunaj looked like
out of armor.  They really hadn't even known if they were humanoid until
that moment.  The young man casually started to hum to himself as he
seemed to pull a bottle and a basin of water from somewhere and begin
the lather the unconscious man's head.
	The three looked at each other in silent puzzlement.  The battle
had been impressive.  They had expected to see some unpleasant
interrogation afterward and had steeled themselves for it.  This...this
was not what they had expected.
	Looking back to the image they saw the man's hands blur.  Skippy
typed a command and the image reversed and slowed.  It could now be seen
that the man's hands glowed with a soft blue light and his hands were
pressing, tapping specific points on the man's head in a complex pattern
that frankly had no meaning to him.  The hands blurred once more,
despite the image's slower speed and the unconscious Sunaj's hair was
rinsed, dried and brushed.  The basin and bottle disappeared, most
likely back where it had come from.
	Without a sign of effort the young man reached over lifted the
assassin out of the floor he had been embedded into, breaking away large
pieces of stone that held on in stubborn resistance.  Laying the man on
the ground he almost gently patted the man on the cheeks.  "Wakey,
wakey, Frank.  You've had a terrible accident and have lost your memory
of the last few weeks.  Fortunately I found you and am here to help
you," the youth paused from the oddly stilted speech.  "I am your uncle
and you can trust me completely."   The man woke and looked at the
pigtailed youth with a dazed look that quickly came into focus.
	Max nodded to himself.  It was certainly an odd why to go about
an interrogation but the 'shampoo' had obviously been a chemical
treatment that induced a hypnotic state.  Then the person simply stated
the facts he wanted to be foremost in the victims mind and woke him.
Interesting, he would soon see how effective the method was.
	From that point it was almost a straightforward question and
answer session.  The young man quickly affirmed that other was a Sunaj
assassin, but from there it took an odd turn.
	"You're, I mean we, are Atlanteans," the martial artist asked
puzzled at one point.  "You mean we were born on Atlantis?"
	"Uncle you jest well.  You know that we are true Atlanteans,
born and bred on this land far before and unclean creatures claimed what
we were forced to abandon.  We are the Aerihman clan, sworn to reclaim
our birthright."
	"Right," the youth stated skeptically.  This line of questioning
led to the man showing his Marks of Heritage and gradually the scheme to
exterminate the other clans of Atlantis.
	To Skippy this was interesting but nothing more than a dramatic
soap opera.  He knew nothing of Atlanteans except Max was one and had a
big paladin image he was keeping up.  White Raven looked upon the
revelations with concern.  She knew quite a bit about the modern
Atlanteans.  She had traveled for decades on her own through the
dimensions and had learned quite a bit since she had first combined
forces with Max a few years ago.  She placed a comforting hand on Max's
arm.
	Max himself was turmoil.  He had trouble believing what he was
seeing.  He had been aware of...all the clans had been aware of...the
Aerihman Clan being more violent and belligerent than the others,
especially under the leadership of their new clan head, Lord Aerihza.
Several times the other clans had to reign them in from high handed
treatment and abuse of other non-Atlantean races.  Still after their
latest reprimand a few years gone by, they had seemed to calm down and
if they weren't model citizens, they were far more polite.
	Obviously, if this wasn't some elaborate ploy then all the other
clans were horribly mistaken.  Horror soon became anger as he learned
that the rogue clan had engineered the massacre that had ended the lives
of 1300 Atlanteans.  Max himself remembered hearing about it.  At the
time tensions were high between the Aerihman Clan and there had been
some suspicions that this clan had been involved in the tragedy.  The
fact that men and women from the Aerihman clan had died in that disaster
dispelled this belief and harmony soon returned to the clans.  His mouth
turned down in a grimace of distaste.  If, as the assassin in the
hologram stated, they had been volunteers then the whole incident took
on a new light.
	The other clans hadn't suspected a thing.  The clans treated one
another like family, offering one another the hospitality of the home or
aiding another in combat with the supernatural at a simple request.  In
this atmosphere it would be simple to slay the family as they slept or
turn on them in the middle of combat.  Aye, if the Aerihman were indeed
the Sunaj then as minions of the Splugorth they would have ample
opportunity to set up traps and ambushes.
	Max's attention was jerked back to the image as the pigtailed
youth had managed to get his 'nephew' to tell him about the identifying
Marks of Heritage.  The man removed a gauntlet and there indeed was the
symbol of the Aerihman Clan.
	Lost in his own thoughts he only dimly recalled the display
showing fourteen more impressive encounters.  After each battle there
followed a brief interrogation, more to confirm the information already
known than to ferret out anything new.  
	The battle with the leader of the local chapter of Sunaj was not
shown.  It was obvious in the aftermath, since the recorder was set up
to show the leader's own question and answer period.  The pig tailed
youth had obviously taken far more of a beating during this encounter as
his clothes were torn and blood liberally coated his arms and chest.
Max stiffened again as he saw the face of Sunaj commander.  He knew him.
Not well, but at several clan meetings he had seen that man as a minor
officer in the Lord Aerihza's staff.
	White Raven and Skippy's eyes were riveted on the images before
them.  They were witnessing history.  A whole local guild of Sunaj had
just been taken down overnight.  That alone would have a huge impact on
the local political structure.  Oh, sure the local group was only about
thirty people but the Sunaj had a position and reputation that had
abruptly been altered.  There was also the issue of the true identity of
the Sunaj.  That may or may not become public knowledge but glancing at
Max's angry and resolute face, it would not be ignored.
	The battles continued until it was obvious that the youth in the
image was on his last legs of endurance.  The commander and his aid had
done most of the damage, but there had been a few other instances of
fighting two of the Sunaj simultaneously.  
	Raven had her own console up and was looking from the display to
her report frowning.  "Unless our intelligence is off there was a mage
that was not taken down."
	Max called up the same report Raven was viewing and nodded.
White Raven shared her notes and it was evident that she had checked off
the descriptions of the Sunaj as the holo played back.  All the known
members were checked off except for the mage.  "Says here he rarely
shows up before noon.  That probably explains it.  Mages can be
notoriously unreliable."  Skippy glared at the Atlantean but declined to
pick up the gauntlet.
	"I suppose it's no surprise that I need some time to take care
of clan business," Max continued in clipped tones, obviously upset but
in control.
	"Take all the time you need," White Raven urged.  It would be
hard to do without the experienced second in command but the recording
made the need self-evident.  Unsaid was also the fact that if the
Atlantean clans took out the wayward Sunaj, Splynncryth would be out
another whole tier of minions that normally acted as informal bounty
hunters, assassins and troubleshooters.  Well unless the other clans
drove them into the Splugorth's hands as the only sanctuary.  When she
brought this possibility up Max nodded shortly.
	"I am aware of the issues.  If mishandled we could trigger a
disaster...or rather precipitate one earlier than the...Sunaj...wanted."
Max paused as if asking himself if he really wanted to confide clan
business to one who was an outsider despite being a friend.  Finally he
continued, "The Aerihman Clan is well integrated with the others.  They
are intimately aware of the inner working, defenses and weaknesses of
all of the others."  Max's fists clenched in suppressed anger, "They
were family, despite our disagreements there was no need to hide
anything from them."  Turning quickly to Skippy he asked, "I need
transportation to the clan elder.  I can give you the coordinates."
	"Well, we already used one of our reserve batteries," Skippy
answered reluctantly.  "However, this is an emergency.  Just say when."
	"This may take a while to deal with.  We will have to move
carefully to avoid them finding out that we are aware of the situation
and attempting a preemptive strike," he stated, addressing White Raven.
"The good thing...the only good thing...that might come of this, is that
if we work this correctly you might have a lot of volunteer Atlantean
freedom fighters anxious to strike out at the Splugorth for corrupting
our kindred," Max gritted his teeth.  He knew he certainly felt that
way.
	"As long as they are willing to take orders," White Raven
acknowledged, "You know we are so numerically outclassed that we can't
afford loose cannons."
	"I'll be sure that they are aware," the Atlantean sighed, "That
is in the future anyway.  As I said this is going to take a while.  Be
careful while I'm gone."
	"Now Max, you know I'm always careful," Raven smiled as she
waved goodbye to her friend.
	Both Max and Skippy snorted in disbelief at that statement and
then looked at one another in surprise.  Who would have believed that
they would agree on something.
	


	The black metal figure moved deeper into the shadows.  Since it
had escaped the cat beast it had stealthily hunted its prey.  This city
wasn't kind to artifacts of its ilk and care was required to prevent
something or other from trying to lay claim.  Naturally this slowed down
its pursuit to a crawl.  It had to hope that the godling it trailed
stayed in one place for a significant amount of time or its cause would
be lost.  Already almost half its embedded talismans were destroyed.
This made travel difficult but far from impossible.
	Its mobile period had almost lapsed.  It was time to find a
hiding spot until its enchantments regenerated and it could move once
again.  It had made about a mile that day, hopefully it would make
another mile tomorrow.  It was slow but the creature had patience.  It
would fulfill its mission.




	Revision 1.0
	Please send any question or comments to danielfruth@attbi.com 
	The newest version of this story can be found at
http://home.attbi.com/~danielfruth/

	
	



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