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                            HEARTS AND MINDS
                               PART FIVE

                       Ranma 1/2 manga fanfiction
                             by Gary Kleppe

	The characters of Ranma 1/2 are the creation of and rightful
property of Rumiko Takahashi. They are used here without permission.
This story may be freely redistributed, but it should not be altered
substantially or used for profit in any way.

	As always, feedback will be greatly appreciated, and public
response is preferred. Preludes and previous parts can be found at
<http://www.akane.org/gary/comics.html#ham>. Thanks to Yoiko, Kara, and
Krista for prereading this chapter.



	Daylight rose slowly over the Amazon village, spilling past
clouds of purple and dark orange. Ranma and Akane walked through the
outskirts of the village, shoes scraping on loose dirt.

	"Man, my back still hurts," Ranma said. "I dunno how all these
Amazons can stand sleepin' on those bamboo mats."

	Nodding, Akane grunted unintelligibly.

	"I can't believe Shan Pu told us those things would be
comfortable. Tonight I think we should go back to using our sleeping
bags."

	"Um, sure. Whatever."

	The repeating clank of metal against stone attracted Ranma's
attention. Two villagers stood nearby, chisels in hand, carving into a
vaguely female-shaped blob of rock.

	"Uh, hey." Ranma waved at the two women. "Whatcha makin'? Looks
cool."

	The sculptors smiled at him embarrassedly, then pointed down at
a metal placard that lay against their toolbox. It was engraved with
kanji that read, IN HONOR OF THE GREAT WARRIOR WHO DEFEATED THE INVADING
SOLDIERS.

	"Wow, this is great," Ranma said. "But why're you makin' it
female? I mean, not that I don't appreciate it and all, but I am a guy,
I mean normally I am, and...."

	The women stared blankly at Ranma. Heaving a sigh, Akane pointed
to the toolbox. Inside was a picture of Shan Pu, posed in the same way
as the carving.

	"Oh. It's Shan Pu's statue. Yeah, of course." Ranma felt his
face redden. "Like I said, it's really cool." He nodded; the women
smiled back at him, then went back to their work.

	Ranma continued walking. Without a word, Akane fell alongside
him, not even looking in his direction. *Okay,* he thought, *something's
going on here.*

	"Say, Akane," Ranma said. "I noticed that your subscription to
Tomboy Magazine was about to run out, so I called them up and had them
put you down for five more years. That okay?"

	"Fine, fine," she mumbled.

	"Is something bugging you, by any chance?" The answer was pretty
obvious, but asking was the only way to get it out in the open.

	"It's nothing," she answered. "I don't want to talk about it."

	"Okay. Just askin'." Ranma knew from experience that *I don't
want to talk about it* really meant *I want you to drag it out of me.*
By backing off and refusing to play that game, he'd leave her with no
choice but to spill it, whatever it was.

	They walked along in silence for several minutes. "I didn't want
her to die," Akane grumbled.

	"Huh? You mean Kodachi?" Duhhh. Of course she did. Ranma still
couldn't believe that Kodachi was dead. The whole thing seemed unreal;
he half-expected her to come swooping out of nowhere, her insane
laughter bursting in his eardrums. Just any moment now.

	"I wished so hard for something to happen to her. Something to
shut her up, to wipe that superior smirk right off her face. But not
this."

	"Look, Akane..." Ranma began. This was the part of being married
that he dreaded more than anything else -- having to say something to
try to cheer her up. The worst part was, eight times out of ten it
wouldn't work anyway. "Wishing doesn't mean anything. It's like... well,
for a long time, you've wished to be a really good cook, right?"

	"Yeah," Akane replied, looking back at him curiously. "So?"

	"But after all that wishing, your food is mostly just barely
tolerable. And how many times have you wished to be a decent swimmer?
Yet every time you get in the water, you sink like a rock. And...."

	"Okay!" she snapped back angrily. "I get the point already."

	Ranma decided he'd better shut up. *So I was wrong,* he told
himself. *It's nine times out of ten.* Or maybe some people just didn't
want to be cheered up.

	They strolled along the dirt path that circled the village. From
above, hammers pounded with the rhythm of trotting horses as a trio of
women made repairs to a house. Nearby, a group of men plucked cigarette
butts from the grass, stuffing them into garbage sacks.

	"Do you think it might've been suicide?" Akane asked.

	It took Ranma a moment to realize that they were still talking
about Kodachi. "Cut her own head off? And then hid the weapon?" He
mentally filed this under Things To Tease The Wife About Later. Now,
obviously, wasn't a good time.

	"Of-- of course not." Akane began to fluster. "I-- I just
thought maybe someone else picked it up later, or something like that."

	"C'mon, Akane. We know what happened. One of them got her.
Probably that Zhen Biaozhi, or whatever her name is."

	Akane sighed. "I suppose that probably is what happened."

	"Whaddaya mean 'probably?' Don't be an idiot, Akane. The only
other people around with anything against Kodachi are...."

	Ranma stopped talking as his last verbal salvo exploded on its
launch pad. What he was thinking was just... wrong. Sure, his friends
could be jerks. But they weren't killers. Or at least they wouldn't kill
someone unless they had to. They wouldn't kill someone on their own team
just because she was being an annoyance.

	They walked onward. Ahead stood Elder Lan. She waved to them.
"Hello, Akane. Ranma. Did you sleep all right?"

	"Uh, okay, thanks," Ranma said. "How's it goin'? Getting the
town defenses set up in case they send more troops out here?"

	Lan nodded. "We're setting up new guard and sentry positions in
places that we hope will be unexpected. Also, we're trying to ready as
many magical and other special weapons as we can get our hands on." She
smiled enigmatically at the two Japanese. "But defense is only part of
what we need to do."

	"It is?"

	"What's the rest?" Akane asked, regarding Lan with the
narrow-eyed skepiticism of someone waiting for the proverbial other shoe
to drop.

	"As martial artists, I'm sure that this is familiar to the two
of you," Lan said. "Imagine that you're in combat and you've just
managed to block your opponent's strike. What will you do next? Wait for
her to attack a second time?"

	"No," Ranma answered without missing a beat. "I'd attack. Now's
probably the best time to get through the guy's defenses." He wondered
why the old woman couldn't give him a simple answer without turning it
into a guessing game.

	"I see," Lan said neutrally. "Well, then. Let's consider the
situation of our village. Our friend the 'General' wants to subjugate
us, and isn't going to stop until we're defeated, or he is. What would
you suggest as our next move?"

	Ranma considered for a moment. "Send somebody over to attack
them?" Yeah, that was where she was trying to get him to go. "Boy, I
feel sorry for whoever gets stuck with *that* job...." He actually had a
fair idea of who that was going to be, but he didn't mind playing dumb
if it would help lighten things up.

	Lan's smile widened. Akane's eyes rolled as she heaved a very
audible sigh; it was her patented "my husband's being an idiot" look.

	"Take some time to think it over and discuss among yourselves,"
Lan said. "I realize that this is asking a lot of you. Rest assured we
wouldn't ask you to undertake such a desperate mission if our need
weren't absolutely dire. Should you decide that you are unable to help
us, we will understand."

	"I don't need to think about it," Ranma said. "I'm in. This is
what being a martial artist is about. Pop didn't train me just so I
could fight in tournaments."

	"I don't think there's much choice in the matter, ma'am." Akane
stared forcefully at the Elder. "We'll go. At least Ranma and I will.
But we do have family and other responsibilities to get back to. I for
one would like to know when this is going to end."

	"As would I." Lan smiled in resignation. "And I think you can
believe me when I say that like you, I would like to see our troubles
over as soon as possible."

	One of the repair workers called to Elder Lan, and she hopped
over to investigate. Akane was shaking like a volcano about to blow.

	"C'mon, Akane, you can't expect us to just leave, do ya? Our
friends are in trouble. They need us." Ranma put a hand on her shoulder
hoping she would relax; she didn't.

	"Yeah, they need us. And what happens next time someone needs
us?" she asked. "And what about Hikaru and Ririko? Don't they need us
too?"

	"Oh, don't worry. My mom and your dad'll take care of 'em until
we get back."

	"It's not their responsibility, Ranma! It's ours! Don't you
understand that? Our children are our responsibility! And what if one of
us doesn't make it back? What if I get killed like Kodachi? Do you think
you can be both mother and father to those children?"

	"Are you kidding?" Ranma said. "Don't forget who you're talking
to, Akane." Her face began to turn red. Ranma knew he had better say
something to calm her down, NOW. "Anyway, that's not gonna happen. Look,
we'll get back to Japan in a few weeks. It's not like it's gonna hurt
the kids to be away from your cooking."

	"Damn it, Ranma!"

	Okay, so that wasn't it. "Hey, I--"

	"You just don't GET it! We're ADULTS now! Stop acting like
you're still a... a TEEN-AGER!!" She opened her mouth as if searching
for more words, then stomped away.

	A sickened feeling gripped Ranma's stomach, as if he'd eaten
food and later found out that it had been contaminated. *Oh, I don't
measure up to your standards of maturity, huh? Well, excuse me. If I'm
such a jerk then why'd you marry me?* For maybe the first time, he had a
good idea of why his pop had gone on all of those training trips. Who
wants to stay where they're not wanted?

	*I don't need to take this crap,* he thought. *I've been a good
husband and a good parent. I'm as grown-up as the next guy.*

	Except... 

	Except that someone he knew had just died. One of his friends
whom he'd known since high school was murdered, and he was never going
to see her again, and he still had nothing to say, still didn't FEEL
anything that he should feel, whatever that was, and all he could think
to do was make the usual stupid jokes.

	*Damn it,* he thought, shouting silently as if at some unknown
deity that was responsible for all his troubles. Akane and he shouldn't
have to go through all of this. Not now, while they were still young.
They ought to be home, teaching the kids how to add and multiply, not
trying to come to grips with the fact that one of their friends had died
trying to save some of their other friends from a bunch of gun-happy
bozos who'd invaded a peaceful village, and he still had no idea *why*
they'd done it -- what they wanted to gain or were trying to prove. All
he knew was one thing, and that was who to blame.

	*Ha Bu... "Herb"... I'm coming for you. And for what you did,
you're going to answer to me.*

                                 ______


	Flanked by heavily-armed guards on motorcycles, the limousine
sailed through the streets of Ulan Bataar. Bystanders stood well clear,
shooting furtive glances at the car's occupants but not daring to linger
for more than a moment.

	In the back of the car, its sole passenger sat, and considered,
and pondered. He was known by many titles: Ha Bu, supreme general of the
Mongolian armies, president for life; designations which amounted to
little more than cattle herder. For what more did they require than to
keep the livestock within its pens and to thin out the herd when
appropriate?

	Ha Bu, bearer of the blood of dragons. This was the title of
greatest substance, without which any other designation was no longer
meaningful. Dragonkind had a glory that he could only barely comprehend,
hinted at by the whispers of ghosts and racial memories; unimaginable
secrets, sciences and philosophies as far beyond humankind as quantum
field theory would be to an ant.

	Ha Bu, ruler of the Musk. This rank, by contrast, held great
importance, for the Musk had melded aspects of humanity and those of the
(marginally) lower species into a whole that was far greater than the
sum of its parts. If the rulership of the Mongols had any meaning, it
was to be found in the fact that ruling the Mongols allowed the Musk to
continue, just as humans raised cattle solely as a source of food and
milk.

	It had been a struggle to persuade his people to change their
way of life. Some objected, denouncing Ha Bu as unfit to rule because of
his willingness to abandon the Musk's traditional isolation. As ruler,
it would have been within his authority to have such insurrectionists
put to death. But instead, he allowed them to have their say, listened
to their arguments, and eventually persuaded them that the course of
action he proposed was a necessary one. For how could a true leader of a
worthy people do less?

	And now for the glory of his people, Ha Bu was a cattle herder.
What was it that allowed him to be effective at this task? Intelligence?
Planning? No, for little of what he had done had he planned himself. He
had military strategists under him as well as allies abroad for that.
No, what made him effective was strength. Not only in the physical
sense, with which he could defeat the attacking PRC forces, but strength
of will, the resolve to do what was necessary.

	The buzz of the limousine's intercom interrupted Ha Bu's
thoughts. His aide's voice crackled over the speaker. "Sir?"

	"What is it, Major?"

	"Message from Mr. Michaels overseas, sir. He and his three
special agents are on their way."

	"Good. Have them meet up with Zhen Biaozi, as planned."

	"Yes, sir."

	A push of the button, and the man's voice gave way to the sounds
of the Symphony Orchestra. For a moment, he closed his eyes, and he was
nothing save Ha Bu, last of the dragons, soaring, majestic wings pushing
against the air with every beat of the percussion, gliding, changing
direction with every trill of the violins. If there was anything that
set humanity apart from the rest of animalkind, it was the arts, the
ability to construct representations of one's own existence, and to use
them to transcend it. Those displaying a talent for the arts would
always find comfortable lives under Ha Bu's rule -- provided, of course,
that they did not oppose him.

	And now he faced opposition from Saotome Ranma. For the moment,
he would let Zhen Biaozi attempt to deal with the situation. Both of
them had, in the past, proven to be highly capable, even worthy of a
measure of respect. It would be interesting to see which would prevail.

	A noise from outside, muffled by the heavy plating of the
limousine, attracted Ha Bu's attention, and he paused the music to hear.
A man leapt over the surrounding barricades, onto the street. Police
scrambled toward the scene as the man began to shout to the surrounding
bystanders. "Stand up against the usurper! General Ha displaced the
elected government! The tyrant has no right to rule the Mongolian
people!" He continued yelling as police began clubbing him into
submission.

	The intercom buzzed again. "This appears to be one lone
demonstrator, sir. Any orders?"

	"Take him away. You know what to do."

	"Yes, sir."

	A touch of the button, and the music resumed. The dragon flew
high into the clouds.

                                 ______


	The almost imperceptible taps of feet sneaking across bare
ground alerted Zhen Biaozi to her visitor's presence.

	Biaozi's perceptions stretched into the darkness, finely-honed
instincts filling in the gaps left by aging sense organs. If only she
hadn't had to stay like this to meet her guest... but to do otherwise
would have been an unacceptable risk. Meeting the Mu boy was one thing;
his particular disability ensured that no one would take anything he
reported very seriously. This current visitor was another matter
entirely.

	"Greetings," she said, turning to face her guest directly. "If
you're thinking of trying to overpower me, don't. I may be an old woman,
but I'm an Elder Warrior of the Amazons." It was, to some extent, a
bluff. While her skills were still sharp, her body was in such bad
health that a serious fight might be the end of her. She knew that her
old bones weren't going to last her much longer. Fortunately, they
wouldn't need to.

	"I'm here," the visitor said, face barely visible in the
moonlight. "Say what you've got to say, before I go."

	"Straight to the point. I like that. But I've already told you
my offer in my message. And I assure you that it is quite genuine. Our
allies from overseas are putting up the money."

	"You haven't told me what you want me to do."

	"All you need to do is to wear this." Biaozi reached into her
pocket to pull out a long, thin chain, at the end of which dangled an
amulet. "Do not fear; it will not harm you. It is an Amazon relic,
albeit a rather minor one. All it does is to radiate a particularly
distinctive aura, by which its wearer can be tracked over a distance."

	The guest's voice remained darkly serious. "You want me to wear
this so that you'll know where our group is when we leave the village."

	"Correct. We merely want to be able to locate your party. What
we do after that need not concern you. A group as skilled as yours ought
to be able to fend off any assault we could muster, no?"

	Biaozi's visitor fell silent, head lowered as if mulling over
what she had said.

	"Of course, if honor prevents you from acting against your
companions, so be it. I'm sure I can find someone else with a use for
the money my allies are offering."

	A wild dog howled in the distance as Biaozi waited for her
guest's answer.

                                 ______


	The dense foliage stretches out to infinity in all directions.
Shadows swoop around him like gigantic birds of prey, swallowing up
shrubs and animals inside the black folds of their wings. Pine needles
squish under his feet as he trudges forward, ever forward.

	A river of wind snakes through the trees, splashing cold on his
skin as he wades through the current. It whistles as it passes, telling
long-dead secrets whispered in ghostly voices.

	She's leaving him.

	He walks forward, toward the destination long since forgotten.
His rifle (when did he start carrying one? He can't remember) dangles at
his side like a lifeless appendage. Shrill shrieks echo in the
surrounding darkness. The cries of animals? Or human laughter?

	She's leaving him. He knows, and yet he can only continue
inexorably forward, a passenger on this journey to... somewhere. She's
leaving him. How many times did he wish for her to be gone? It was only
because of his father that they were together in the first place. And
after all that, would she even believe him if he told her that he wanted
her to stay?

	He stops. Staring into the impenetrable darkness ahead, he knows
that *they* wait ahead. The ones who attacked his friends, made him
leave his family and put his and his wife's life in danger. His hand
reaches down to grip the trigger of the rifle. No! he tries to scream,
but no sound comes out of his mouth, and the gun barrel swings upward,
and he fires.

	With a lion's roar, the gun spits forth a ball of white-hot
molten metal, as bright as the sun. The forest lights up as fires blaze
across the landscape. Trees vaporize as if made of newspaper. The river
of wind spins, churns into a waterspout, a vast tornado that begins to
consume everything in its path. He flattens himself to the ground as the
world explodes around him.

	As quickly as it had started, the noise and light fade. He
stands. The landscape is flat, indentical in every direction. He
advances, and bodies lie ahead, strewn about like debris after the
passage of a hurricane. Familiar bodies. Blood streams from a gaping
hole in one's chest, spilling out over her Chinese silk dress. A pair of
candles burn atop another's head, wax dripping down into emptied eye
sockets. A bandanna-clad head rests nearby, its body nowhere to be seen.

	He wants to leave, but no longer knows which way is forward or
back, to or from. And she's gone. He stands, an actor left on stage
after the audience has left, the play forgotten. She's gone. The one
who'd been closer to him than any other, who could have helped him find
his way out of this place, is an ice floe drifting slowly away over the
ocean. A soul of ice. Outwardly cold, mostly hidden and unknowable
beneath murky depths, yet refusing to melt, to surrender her uniquness
and become one with the flowing currents. He calls out to her, but the
shout echoes into nothingness, and all he can do is to watch her float
away....

	Float away....

	Float away....

	Float away....




	"AAAAAA!" Ranma's eyes snapped open. He stared into the
darkness, and memories fell into place like the pieces of a child's
jigsaw puzzle. He was in the Amazon village. But... it had felt so real.
He was so sure.... She was leaving him. But that couldn't be right. She
was--

	His hand probed the space next to him, finding only empty
sleeping bag.

	"AAAAAAA!" he said again. It was true! She--

	"Ranma...." Her sleepy voice came from behind his back. "What on
Earth are you screaming about?"

	He rolled over, and was looking Akane in the eyes. "You're here?
But... you left!"

	"What are you talking about?" She chuckled slightly, then put an
arm on his shoulder. "Of course I'm still here. Did you have a nightmare
or something?"

	He pulled her close. She let out a playful yelp. Snuggled
together, their bodies rolled across the sleeping bag. He knew that they
had issues that they'd have to work out. But she was still here, and for
now, that was all that mattered.

                                 ______


	The sun was barely visible in the sky when Ryoga awoke and began
methodically packing away the few posessions that he carried with him.
He had spent the night in the half-aware, half-sleeping state of a
prisoner waiting to be executed the next morning -- a description that
he feared wasn't very far from the truth.

	He began walking, and after only half an hour miraculously
managed to end up at the dirt lot on the edge of the village at which
the group was to assemble. Ranma and Akane and Elder Lan, the only ones
already present, waved to him; deciding not to interrupt their
conversation, he stood off to one side in the shade of the wall of a
building. Today was the day. He was going to tell Akane who P-chan
really was. But not yet. There'd be a better time later. During the
night, his mind had imagined the scenario a hundred times; he had gone
over all of the reasons why he *had* to confess, and he *had* to do it
today. But everything that had made rock-solid sense then had melted
into molten tar that was flowing through the bottom of his stomach.

	Before long, Ranma's father had shown up, along with Shan Pu and
Mu Si, and Ryoga knew it would be time to leave soon. This was it. No
more waiting. He edged closer to Akane and the others, waiting for a
break in the conversation.

	Elder Lan handed a large cardboard envelope to Ranma. "Here's
something that you might need, Ranma. Open it when you get into Mongol
territory."

	"Um, thanks." He stuffed the envelope into his backpack, then
looked around, surveying the group present. "Is this it?" He pointed at
the assembled group. "Just us are going?"

	"I'm afraid that Shan Pu will be remaining here," the Elder
said. "I need her to help prepare the village for the second attack that
will doubtless come." Shan Pu smiled helplessly at Ranma.

	Ranma shrugged. "Okay, yeah, I can understand that. But with
only five...."

	"Seven, Ranma."

	Everyone turned to see Dr. Tofu, with Kasumi behind him. "You
two are coming with us?" Akane asked, and Tofu nodded.

	"Uh, Kasumi...." Ranma eyed Akane's sister cautiously. "Are you
sure? This is liable to be pretty dangerous."

	*Shut up, Ranma!* Ryoga almost said. Who did he think he was? If
Kasumi didn't go on the trip, then he wouldn't be able to learn the
secret of changing forms without water. Then he mentally chastised
himself, appalled at what he had just thought. Was that all Hibiki Ryoga
really cared about -- himself? How could he not even consider Kasumi's
own welfare in this situation?

	"Don't worry, Ranma," Kasumi replied with a carefree smile.
"I'll be fine." Ranma stood expressionless, as if unable to answer.
After all, none of them knew what Kasumi's new skills were capable of
doing.

	Ryoga breathed a small sigh of relief. Okay, so that's settled.
He had the chance to learn the technique. But only if... yes, it was
now, or never. "Er...," he heard himself say, "Akane?"

	She turned to face him. "Yes, Ryoga?"

	"Could I talk for... er, that is, could we talk to you? Just for
a minute?"

	"Sure," she said brightly, and stepped into the shade by the
wall. "What's on your mind?"

	"Akane, this...." Maybe now wasn't a good time. "This isn't
easy, Akane, I...." Maybe he should just forget about it until after the
trip. And maybe... maybe someone else would end up like Kuno because of
him. Maybe it would be Akane. "I... have to confess something."

	She stared at him with sober eyes. "What?"

	"Akane, I... it's my fault. What happened to Kuno."

	"Oh, Ryoga." She waved a hand dismissively. "It's not your
fault. That could've happened to anyone."

	"It is my fault! You see, Akane, I... I've got a... curse."

	She nodded casually. "A Jusenkyo curse. Yeah."

	"You KNOW?!"

	"Oh, come on, Ryoga." She smiled, patting him reassuringly on
the shoulder. "I'd have to be pretty dense not to figure out what
happened. You should really tell Kasumi so she can teach you how to
change like the others."

	"Akane, how... how can you not be mad at me for what I did?"

	"Mad? Honestly, why should I be mad? Ryoga, anyone could've
fallen in that spring!"

	"Yes, but...."

	"Ryoga, it was an accident! You slipped in the mud during the
battle and fell in a spring. Okay, so you left Kuno to fight on his own,
and he got hurt. But it was an accident. You didn't mean to!"

	Ryoga found himself unable to do more than stammer. "Slipped...
fell...."

	"Look, I'll talk to Kasumi for you. All right? She can teach you
how her technique works."

	"Akane, I... thanks." Ryoga's mind was a burning building, and
all he could do was to run for the exit. That he hadn't told her the
truth -- the full truth that he'd intended to tell -- didn't matter
anymore. She was giving him a way out, and he had to take it.

	As he turned to go, Akane called to him. "Oh, Ryoga?"

	Stopping with a jerk, he turned back around. "Yes?"

	"So what is it?"

	"Huh? What's what?"

	Akane giggled. "What do you turn into?"

	Ryoga opened his mouth, but couldn't form words.

	"Look, you don't have to tell if you don't want to. I mean, if
it's something embarrassing...."

	"Embarrassing. Yeah." He laughed awkwardly. "If you saw me in my
cursed form, I'd just die."

                                 ______


	Elder Lan stood at the village entrance, watching the seven
youngsters recede into the distance. Perhaps it was a fool's errand that
she was sending them off on. But Ke Lun had spoken quite highly of this
group. From what she'd said, if anyone could succeed in this mission,
this group could.

	In any case, there were other matters that needed to be attended
to. Lan turned to Ti Pi behind her. "We need a complete list of what was
lost in this invasion, both in terms of lives, and material goods. I'm
putting you in charge of compiling such a list."

	"Thank you, Elder," Ti Pi replied. "May I enlist the Gosunkugi
boy to assist me?"

	"As you wish." Lan beamed a motherly smile at the youngster.

	"Good," Ti Pi said. "I want him to tell me more about computers.
He knows so much more than anyone around here."

	"I see." Lan hoped that the Gosunkugi boy wouldn't misinterpret
Ti Pi's interest in him; if he did, he could be in for a painful
awakening. But it really wasn't any of her business. "Off with you,
then." She had other things to worry about; the Council of Elders was
meeting in just a few minutes, and afterwards the prisoners had to be
given their trial by combat.

                                 ______


	"We must be honest with ourselves," admonished Elder Kui. The
room's furniture having been looted, the Council stood in a circle
around the now-missing table. "Our leadership has failed. We were
forewarned of this crisis, and were still caught off-guard by it."

	The words weighed heavily on Lan. It was true; she *had* failed
to prepare an adequate defense against the Mongols. "You have the right
to challenge me to a vote for the leadership of the Amazons, if you wish
to do so."

	"I do not," Kui said. "I was part of this council when we knew
of the impending attack, and had no better suggestions to offer. I bear
the same blame that you do. No, the time has come for new leadership. We
need a leader who will inspire confidence. One with the energy and fresh
ideas of youth."

	Lan blinked. "You mean...."

	"I mean that for the position of Chief Elder of the Amazons, I
hereby nominate Shan Pu."

                                 ______


	Tatewaki's head lifted from his pillow. His eyes opened, and
slowly focused.

	"Hi," Shan Pu said, smiling at him. He shifted his position as
if to rise, and she prodded him gently back down. "You need rest some
more. I only can stay a little minute. Is trial for prisoners soon, and
all warriors need attend."

	Tatewaki pushed his pillow up and lay against the wall.
"According to the doctors, I am recovering adequately enough that I
should be able to leave the infirmary in a day or two. I shall be glad
to be able to help ready the village's defenses."

	"I think there some time until invaders come back," Shan Pu
said, knowing it was probably just wishful thinking.

	"Today I accomplished the arduous task of traveling to and from
the lavoratory facilities." His expression twisted into a grimace. "Let
the world sing songs in praise of Kuno Tatewaki, for he is able to
relieve himself without the aid of a nurse!"

	With a friendly chuckle, Shan Pu slipped her hand around his.
"You just rest, and get better."

	"Yes, you are right, of course." Sighing, he rolled over to lay
flat on his back. "Though it feels... wrong. A true warrior fights until
breath no longer remains in his body. I recall my mother telling me so
when I was... seven? Eight? It's difficult to remember so far back."

	"You are not robot. Everybody have to take a rest sometime,"
Shan Pu said, trying to think of a time when she had refused to take
part in a battle for health reasons. Oh well, hopefully he wouldn't ask.
"Good parent should understand that."

	"I suppose that you are right. My mother always invested all
that her children did with such importance. so very unlike Father, who
has never really cared about anything, who was made a principal only
because it would be inconceivable for a Kuno not to hold a position of
authority of some sort. I often feel...." He paused to wipe sweat from
his brow. "I often feel that she left the family when she did because my
sister and I were inadequate in her eyes."

	"I think it normal for child to think that way." She smiled at
him playfully. "Why you think that?"

	"Perhaps it was the note that she left," he said. "'I am leaving
because my children are inaqeduate.'"

	"Oh." Shan Pu felt her face begin to flush. "Well... you get
better and you not have to think about these things. Okay? I got to go
now." She held his hand for a few seconds, then stepped out of the room.

                                 ______


	Shan Pu paused momentarily, staring through the window. Outside,
warriors herded captured Mongols into a group in the middle of the
courtyard. Soon they would face their trial by combat, their chance to
leave the village with their lives spared. Not much of a chance, for
there was little likelihood of them defeating an Amazon warrior without
the advantage of superior weaponry; but infinitely more of a chance than
they'd given their victims.

	*Brave, brave warrior,* some inner voice mocked, *who can face
any enemy but runs from a friend.* She had run away from Tatewaki, and
she didn't know why. He had changed so much since his days back in
Nerima. There was a side to him that was... vulnerable; perhaps it had
always been there, but living with the Amazons had taught him that it
was all right for that side to show. Shan Pu didn't mind that, yet there
was something else that came along with it that she couldn't quite
identify, something he was offering that she couldn't accept. Not yet.
Not until she was sure.

	She moved her head closer to the open window and listened. Elder
Lan's voice carried forth from the courtyard, issuing instructions to
the captives. "In twenty minutes, your trials by combat will begin. Each
of you will be allowed to choose which of our warriors you wish to face;
that warrior, in turn, will be allowed to choose the weapon that both of
you will be armed with. Those who lose, and are not killed in the combat
itself, will be put to death. Any of you who defeat your chosen
combatant will win not only life and freedom, but also the right to
marry the defeated warrior."

	The soldiers' voices buzzed with confused murmurs. Obviously,
the Amazon traditions made no sense to them. A chance to get free?
Marriage? There had to be a catch. And, of course, there was. An Amazon
wouldn't possibly lose to men like these. Not in a fair fight, where
they weren't allowed to rely on long-range explosives and assault rifles
against unarmed opponents.

	Yes, they would die. That was certain. But it wasn't enough.
Goddesses help her, Shan Pu wanted more than just to see them killed.
She wanted to kill them herself. She wanted to feel their bones crushing
to powder in her fingers, see their eyes as the last gasp of breath
leaves their bodies and they finally, in that last minute of life,
understand what it really means to fight an Amazon. They'd violated her
village, her sisters, for reasons that even they most likely knew
nothing of. They were simply soldiers, and soldiers followed orders. But
soldiers also died, and Shan Pu would show them the truth of that.

	Out in the center of the courtyard, the captured Mongols stood
as if frozen in place, waiting. And Shan Pu considered. She had ten
minutes before she needed to be out there. Time enough to get changed.

                                 ______


	The Amazons had formed a circle around the perimeter of the
courtyard. Mongol soldiers inspected them, eyeing them carefully as if
shopping for a used vehicle. There had to be a weak link somewhere --
and whoever managed to find it would be able to get out without being
skewered on the end of one of their spears.

	"Hiiiiiiii!"

	One of the women smiled at them, waving effusively back and
forth. Unlike the others, she wasn't wearing a battle outfit. The silk
dress into which her ample body was squeezed only reached to just below
her crotch, with slits running up the sides to the top of her hips.

	"I'm Shan Pu," she squeaked. "You choose me, we have GOOD time,
hmm?"

	Soldiers began to congregate around her, like insects attracted
to light. "Er... what weapon do you fight with?" one of them asked.

	"Weapon?" Her eyes went absurdly wide. "Oooh, weapons are nasty!
We do it with bare hands, no?"

	The voice of Elder Lan carried above the din. "Gentlemen, I need
a decision from each of you."

                                 ______


	Shan Pu staggered into the Chief Elder's office. Behind her,
voices roared with thunderous approval. She didn't care. Blood stained
the silk of her dress; wet and clammy, it clung to her skin in several
places.

	"You wanted to see me after the combat, Elder?" Shan Pu sounded
weary, despite her best effort not to.

	The Elder raised an eyebrow. "You're finished with all of them?
Already?"

	"Yes," Shan Pu answered. "To save time, I fought them all at
once."

	"I... see." Lan motioned Shan Pu to the seat in front of her.
"I'll send a squad out to finish off the survivors."

	Shan Pu shook her head. "That won't be necessary."

	"Our law is quite specific on this point. Those who are defeated
in a trial by combat must...."

	"No, you don't understand," Shan Pu said as she slumped into the
chair. "That won't be *necessary.*"

	"Oh." Lan nodded slowly, as if digesting what Shan Pu had told
her. "All right. One more thing before you go."

	"Yes, Elder?"

	"As I'm sure you know, your actions in liberating us from the
invaders has earned you considerable popularity among the sisterhood. I
would like to know how you feel about that."

	Shan Pu shook her head. "I don't care." As far as she was
concerned, the sisters could think what they liked. She'd fought a
battle that needed to be fought. Nothing more.

	"Though it is unprecedented for one of your youth, I want to
make it clear: You have a legal right under Amazon law to accept their
nomination, should you so choose."

	Shan Pu's weary mind tried to make sense of Lan's words. "What
nomination?"

	"For Chief Elder," Lan said. "I'm sorry. I thought you'd heard."

	"They want to nominate me for--" Shan Pu's hands balled into
tight fists. How could the sisters think that she would want such a
thing? Or were they so desperate to follow someone that they didn't even
care how she felt?

	Regaining her composure, Shan Pu brushed a sweat-soaked lock of
hair from her forehead. "Elder, I have no wish to lead the Amazons." She
forced herself to crack a smile. "Not until I am your age, and perhaps
not even then."

	"Very well." The Elder rose from her seat, signalling Shan Pu to
do the same. "Soon you must retrieve the Linghungbao from its hiding
place. Its power will be invaluable in fending off the invaders' next
attack." Her expression softened. "But for now, get some rest."

	"Thank you, Elder." With a tired nod, Shan Pu turned and dragged
herself away.

                                 ______

	"I still don't understand this practice you called
'object-oriented programming,'" Ti Pi said as the two of them approached
the next house on their list. "Why should it be helpful to limit ones
own capabilities? It seems to me it would be quite a hinderance."

	"Er, well, maybe," Hikaru answered, appalled with himself for
such an indecisive answer. "I mean, it keeps you from making some bad
mistakes. Sometimes." Oh great, he thought, now she was going to think
he was an incompetent prorgammer. "And it, um, encapsulates things
together, which helps if you have several people writing the same
program."

	"I see." Ti Pi stepped up to the door and knocked. Hikaru
wondered whether she was just being polite; he was sure that his
explanation had been as clear as mud.

	At first, it had been a thrill to meet a woman who was actually
interested in what he had to say. But it seemed like computers were all
she wanted to talk about, as if he were nothing more to her than a
library book, and he had no idea whether she was interested in taking
things beyond that. He wished that he could open his mind directly to
hers, the way the characters had in the science fiction book he'd read
the week before. He and she, each one fully aware of what was in the
other's mind. No more guessing, no more of this terrible uncertainty
that was clawing him to pieces from inside.

	The door opened, revealing an elderly woman. Ti Pi and the woman
spoke to each other in Chinese, with the enthusiastic, informal tones of
people who knew each other well. The woman stood back and motioned for
the younsters to enter. Hikaru followed Ti Pi inside, nodding and
smiling at his host. He only knew a few words of Chinese, and wasn't
about to embarrass himself by trying to say them.

	Ti Pi jotted down notes on a pad of paper, while Hikaru began to
take photographs of the inside of the house, as Elder Lan had asked him
to do. Empty areas on the floor marked places where furniture had stood,
while smaller items lay scattered about. Obviously, the Mongols had
quickly ransacked the house, looting the valuables and leaving the rest
behind.

	A tap on the shoulder made Hikaru turn his head. The old woman
held out a steaming cup of tea, which he gratefully accepted. A hesitant
sip, and deliciously warm liquid eased its way down his throat. "Mmm.
This is really good." He pointed to the cup, nodded, mimed a drinking
motion, and patted his stomach appreciatively in an attempt to get his
point across.

	"Thank you very much, young man."

	"Mmppth." Hikaru coughed as a second swallow of tea went down
the wrong tube into the back of his nose. "You-- you speak Japanese?"

	"Oh, yes. My husband is originally from Japan." Her eyes focused
on the camera around Hikaru's neck. "He does photgraphy as a hobby, just
as you seem to. Let me show you my album."

	"Er-- well," Hikaru stammered, wondering whether Ti Pi would be
upset with him for not finishing the job he'd come to do. But the old
woman didn't seem likely to take no for an answer.

	Ushering Hikaru to a chair, she set a leather-bound volume on
the table in front of him. Opening it revealed a series of photographs,
the corners of each tucked into slots cut out from the book's pages.
"This first one is from the day Bukiyo first challenged me." The woman
in the picture was quite buxom and muscular, nothing like the wrinkled
creature sitting next to him.

	"Challenged you? You mean to combat?"

	"Yes. According to Amazon legend, if a man is truly worthy of
the woman he pursues, the blessing of the goddesses will bring him
victory. It must seem like a strange custom to you. Still, I've heard of
stranger ones. Some men actually choose their mates based on their chest
measurements."

	Hikaru jerked his gaze up from the picture he'd been staring at.
"Uh, yeah. Ridiculous."

	The woman flipped to another page. A picture caught Hikaru's
eye; a man and a woman, mouths reaching toward each other as if about to
kiss. The man was unfamiliar, but Hikaru recognized the woman
unmistakeably: Ti Pi.

	Why, he asked himself, WHY did this always happen to him? Every
time he found someone who looked like she might be interested in him,
she turned out to have a husband or a boyfriend or a fiance. Why was it
so impossible for him, when the inconsiderate muscle-bound jerks of the
world had no trouble at all?

	"That's my son," the old woman said, her voice tinged with
sadness as it lowered to a whisper. "I probably shouldn't have kept this
picture. His interest in your friend there was mostly a one-way thing."

	"Oh." Hikaru felt his face redden with embarrassment. "Really?"

	The old woman nodded. "Perhaps given enough time, things might
have changed. But it's all moot now."

	"It is?"

	She gazed back at him with a pained expression. "I'm afraid my
son has recently passed away. He was on guard duty when the Mongols
attacked."

	"Oh," he said feebly, disgusted with himself for what he had
thought. "I'm... sorry." He'd always wondered why women went for jerks
like Ranma. But Ranma had fought to free the Amazon village while Hikaru
had cowered in the background. And now here was someone who'd tried to
defend his home, and paid the ultimate price. What sort of person could
feel such jealousy, such hate toward someone like that?

	*Maybe it's not Ranma who's the jerk,* he thought. *Maybe those
women were good judges of character after all.*

	Nodding meekly, Hikaru went back to taking photographs of the
house.

                                 ______


	By the middle of the third day, the bare, craggy peaks of
Qinghai had given way to gently sloping valleys and ridges. Mu Si led
the group along what could be barely called a path, over grasses and
between shrubs that clawed at pants and shirts like tiny, skeletal
fingers.

	"Are you sure we're going the right way?" Ranma asked, his tone
laden with skepticism. Every direction looked pretty much the same as
every other, and Mu Si usually couldn't even tell one person from
another.

	"Yes, I'm sure," Mu Si said with confidence. "In fact, unless
I'm mistaken, the first thing we're looking for should be right over
there." He pointed ahead at a cluster of conifers.

	"You mean those trees?" Ranma stared closer, and concealed in
the center of the cluster was a small wooden shack.

	Pulling from his robes a ring with what looked to be hundreds of
keys on it, Mu Si walked up to the shack, and began trying various keys
in its padlock.

	"This looks like it might take a while," Ranma said. "How about
we all take a pit stop here?"

	Mu Si nodded. "Good idea."

	"Okay, then. Ten minute break, guys." The rest of the group
dispersed behind various shrubs and outcroppings.

	The lock popped open. Mu Si disappeared inside, and came out a
moment later lugging a flat-bottomed rowboat over his head.

	"We're going by boat?" Ranma asked.

	"Uh huh." Mu Si set the boat face down on the ground. "We keep
several of these hidden in various locations for times when we need
them. There's a river just a little farther up that we can ride all the
way into Mongol territory. It'll be faster than walking."

	Ranma took a seat on the upside-down rowboat. "Don't you think
someone'll spot us and tell those guys where to find us?"

	"No one really lives around here, Ranma. Not since the Mongols
bombed out all the oil refineries last year. Only a few nomads, and they
mind their own business. Once we get closer to Mongol territory there'll
be patrols around, but I'll be able to spot them from the air and take
them out before they can report us."

	"Take them out. Yeah. Permanently, right?" Ranma sighed,
wondering whether he was the only one bothered by this kind of thing.

	Mu Si's expression hardened. "I'll kill to protect my home,
Ranma. If I have to."

	"Yeah. Yeah, I don't blame you for that. Really. It's just...."
Ranma fumbled for words, unable to explain the sickening feeling that
this whole killing business gave him. Of course the Amazons had a right
to defend themselves. But....

	"Y'know," Ranma said, "there was a time, when I was around
twelve or so, when Pop started working days. I got sent to junior high,
where I first met Ryoga. It was just about the first time I'd had a
chance to make friends with other kids my own age, and pretty soon I had
a regular bunch of guys that I hung out with."

	Mu Si nodded, and Ranma continued.

	"These guys, they... we stole. Food, usually. Sometimes we'd
just go out and break stuff, just because we could. It was fun, and I
was good at it, fast enough to be pretty sure I'd never get caught. I
never really even stopped to think about whether it was right or not.
The other guys were doing the same thing, and that somehow meant I
didn't need to worry about it."

	"Then what happened?"

	"Pop found out. He took me out of school and gave me this long
speech about how I was the heir to the Saotome school of martial arts,
and it was unacceptable that I should disgrace that legacy, blah blah
blah. He hardly ever let me out of his sight for the next year or so
after that. It was actually kinda ridiculous hearing all that from him,
considering some of the stuff I'd seen *him* do. But it still made a
pretty big impression on me, feeling like I'd let him down."

	Mu Si straightened. "So what's your point, Ranma?"

	"Point is, that most of these soldier guys probably aren't
really any different than I was back then. They're in a group, and that
means you don't have to worry about whether what you're doing is okay or
not. It's the group doing it, not you. When I hear people like that
Elder Lan say that these guys have to be killed, I feel like... like I
oughtta be killed too. Y'know?"

	His eyes tiny behind thick glass frames, Mu Si's gaze slowly
narrowed. "I suppose I can understand that. But what about the Amazons?
Don't we have a right to not be killed?"

	"Of course you do. It's just...." Ranma shook his head. "I
dunno." Ranma's mind whirled around in circles, like a dog trying to
catch its own tail. "I just don't know."

	The two men sat in silence for a moment. In the distance, some
wild animal howled.

	"Well," Ranma said. "Maybe we should check out that envelope
that your Elder gave me."

	Mu Si nodded. Ranma reached behind his back into his bag and
pulled out the cardboard packet. Opening it revealed a collection of
official-looking papers and cards. "Fake IDs, looks like. Ought to come
in handy."

	"Yeah." Mu Si scanned the documents. "According to these papers,
you're Japanese businessmen looking for a place to set up manufacturing
operations, and I'm your local guide. With these, and a change of
clothes, hopefully we'll be able to slip into Mongolia without them
knowing that we're the same people who beat their soldiers at Jusenkyo."

	"If you say so." The thought crossed Ranma's mind that the group
didn't much look like business travellers. And if the Mongols knew they
were coming, and which of them were coming, then surely all of their
soldiers and police and whatever would be given descriptions. But those
Elders knew what they're doing, and had to have thought of that, right?
"Hey," he said, paging through the papers, "there's no husband and wife
pair in here. What about Akane and me?"

	Mu Si looked again. "Maybe the Elders couldn't get a marriage
license made in time, or maybe just they didn't think about it. The two
of you will have to stay in separate rooms, Ranma. There's nothing else
for it. People around here tend to be pretty tradional about this, and
wouldn't stand for a man and a woman sharing a hotel room without proof
of marriage."

	"Dang." Akane wasn't going to be happy about this, Ranma
thought, especially after their recent argument. Then another piece of
paper caught his eye. "Hey, this one's Kodachi's. If I went in her
place, nobody would care who I slept with."

	"Good idea," Mu Si said. "Your girl form ought to be able to
pass for her."

	Ranma briefly shut his eyes and willed himself to turn female.
"Oh ho ho ho--" He stopped in mid-laugh at the sound of his still-male
voice. "Huh?"

	"What?"

	"It didn't work." He concentrated again on changing gender. "I'm
still a guy. What the heck?" Turning his head, he scanned the area.
"Hey, Kasumi?"

	Kasumi popped out from behind a copse of trees. "What is it,
Ranma?"

	"My change thing ain't workin'. I try to switch form, but
nothing happens."

	"Oh dear. I wonder why that would be?" Standing next to Ranma,
she shut her eyes, then opened them a minute later. "Hm. That's very
odd."

	"What's the deal?" Ranma asked.

	"It's Lili. Her spirit... it's gone. The link between it and
yours has just... disappeared. I can't see any trace of it anymore. It
seems that she's left you."

	"Left me? Just like that?" It couldn't be true. But suddenly,
the previous night's dream came back into Ranma's mind.

	*She's leaving him.*

	Suddenly, he understood what the dream had really meant.

	"Congratulations, Ranma." Kasumi smiled. "You're un-cursed. This
is what you always wanted, wasn't it?"

	Yeah, he thought, it was. So why did he have this empty feeling
at the bottom of his stomach, like he'd just lost his best friend?

                                 ______


	The jeep drove up to the front gate of Noyan army base. Guards
emerged from their shack, rifles at the ready. Identification papers
were shown, and checked, and the visitors were cleared to enter. The
gate lifted. Loose gravel crackled under the jeep's tires as it rolled
over to the designated parking area.

	Zhen Biaozi turned away from the window, awaiting the entrance
of her guests. She could hear the muted murmur of voices on the other
side of the building, the low thud of the door closing behind them. What
a relief it was to have fully acute senses again, to no longer have to
depend on that tired, decrepit old husk of a body.

	How outraged her fellow Amazon elders would be if they knew the
truth. Fools, all of them; clinging to their useless rules and
traditions while the world passes them by. They called her a renegade, a
traitor, but Zhen Biaozi would be the one to insure the survival of her
people, to insure them a place in this modern world.

	"Hello, Bob," she said in English as the first of the men
entered the room. "How was your flight?"

	"Not too bad. Of course, flying's always better after a couple
of scotch and waters." He straightened his sport coat, then took a seat
next to Biaozi. "Anyhow. As promised, I've brought you three of the
most... talented subjects from our paranormal agents program. Gentlemen,
introduce yourselves to Ms. Zhen."

	A sandy-haired young man stepped forward. "I'm Chuck Crandall,
ma'am." He stood nearly two meters tall, with a boyish face and ruddy
complexion. "We'll beat those rebels and take back your village, don't
you worry."

	"My name's Carl," the next man said. "Carl Jorgenson." A beard
of brown steel wool hung down from his heavy caveman-like face. "No
offense, but I want to finish this job and get out of this hellhole of a
country where I can't even drink the water." A pit bull of a man,
thought Biaozi. Such people were easy to deal with; sic them on an enemy
when appropriate, and keep them in their doghouses the rest of the time.

	"I'm Jim Wesley," the last one said. He had the sort of face
that could easily lose itself in a crowd; his only distinctive feature
was his baggy eyes. While the other two struck Biaozi as quite
predictable and straightforward to handle, this one would need to be
watched more closely. There was more to him than met the eye.

	"You've already been briefed on the unique talent that each of
these gentlemen possesses," Bob Michaels said. With their aid, I'm sure
you'll be able to deal with that group of Japanese paranormals that have
been causing you so much trouble. Fighting fire with fire, so to speak."
He turned to the three men. "I don't need to tell you all how important
this mission is for us, gentlemen. Several of my superiors have argued
for the abolition of this project, on the grounds that paranormal agents
are too unreliable to be of any use. We need to prove them wrong."

	Turning his head back toward Biaozi, he continued. "On another
matter, the payment you requested has been approved, and the money
deposited as per your instructions." He adjusted his wire-framed
glasses. "I had to pull in a few favors to get approval for that much
money."

	"What we gain will be worth every penny." Biaozi pulled a small
compass-like device from her pocket; its metal arrow wobbled, then came
to a stop pointing toward the south. "Thanks to an item that one of the
Japanese group now wears, I can track their location with this."
Actually, the amulet had been ditched somewhere along the way; a
double-cross, just as she had expected. But unknown to her patsy, the
amulet left a residue on its wearer that would, for the next several
days, be as easy to track as the amulet itself. "Tomorrow night, they
ought to be close to the Mongolian border, if not beyond it. I'll enter
their camp and abduct the most... difficult... of them."

	"As I understand it, that one's already been killed by some
unknown assailant. We got a report on it on the way over here. A bit...
unsettling, to have this happen for no reason that we can figure out.
But you know what they say about gift horses and mouths."

	"Yes, I've studied classical European literature. I know how
beneficial that little piece of advice was to the Trojans." Biaozi took
great satisfaction in seeing Bob's crestfallen expression. "There's a
loose cannon out there somewhere, a joker in the deck, if you will, and
we should all be on our guard.

	"But in any case, that person wasn't the one I was talking
about. Biaozi produced a photograph. It was a telephoto shot of Tendo
Kasumi, her eyes shut, her face serene, in one of her morning
meditations. The four men stared at the picture. "She don't look that
tough," Jorgenson said.

	"You can't defeat someone you can't attack," Biaozi countered.
"This woman has... I don't know what. A magical spell? A psychic aura? I
doubt that even you, my little pit bull of a man, would be able to keep
a hostile attitude towards her in her presence, much less attack her."

	Bob Michaels took a long look at the photo. "But you have a way
to get around this problem?"

	"Yes. All we need to do is to find someone so insensitive that
he won't feel her aura, not even on a subconscious level." She smiled.
"Fortunately, I know just the person."

                                 ______


	Mu Si yawned.

	It was about a quarter before six, he supposed, and the campsite
was deadly silent. The stars had faded into the gradually lightening
orange sky. Kasumi had already woken for her usual morning meditation.
Soon the others would be up as well, and it would be time to pack up
once again and continue downstream.

	He didn't like taking his friends into this so-called "no man's
land." From what he'd heard, the weapons used by the Mongols had
toxified the area so much that both sides' troops mostly kept out,
entering only to make occasional patrols. But this was the best chance
his group had of making it into Mongol territory without being spotted.
Only he knew the precise route that they were taking, which meant the
chances of being found were near zero.

	A tap on the shoulder made Mu Si turn. A figure, outlined in the
day's first few rays of sunlight, stood behind him, face covered by a
familiar head scarf and dark glasses.

	"You? Zhen Biaozi?" Falling into a battle crouch, Mu Si tensed,
ready for any sign of attack. "I told you before. I won't betray my
friends!"

	"Did you really think my offer was any more than a ruse, meant
to foment confusion and distrust within your little group?" She smiled
from ear to ear, like a Cheshire cat that was about to disappear. "Do
you actually think that I'd want a buffoon like you working for me?"

	"Sh-- shut up!" Mu Si shouted. "Just SHUT UP!" He hoped it would
be enough to wake the others; any more obvious alarm, and she would
probably be gone before anyone could react.

	Biaozi's arm flashed out, and Mu Si jerked his head back. She
missed, he thought, then noticed that the world around him had blurred
into an indistinct haze.

	"Give me back my glasses!"

	She began to laugh. Mu Si lunged toward her, and a foot slammed
into his chest. He flew backwards, skimming the dirt before sliding to a
stop.

	Picking himself off the ground, Mu Si reached into his robes. He
lunged forward, a volley of bludgeons, mechanical claws, and yo-yos
spearheading his charge, but met only empty air as his target zipped out
of the way at the last second.

	"I'm over heeeeeeere!" she taunted.

	Mu Si squinted in that direction, and could make out a vaguely
human-shaped blob. If he could take her off-guard.... He moved his eyes
from side to side, tentatively staggering foward as if completely blind.
He just needed to get close enough, and then....

	Making a sudden leap, he tackled his target. His momentum
carrying them forward, they slid headlong across the dirt. She only had
time to let out a startled "Ohhh!" before her head knocked against the
ground, and she fell silent.

	*I did it,* Mu Si thought triumphantly. *I captured her!*

	Then something jabbed him in the neck, and the world went black.


                                 ______


	The sun was already bright in the sky as Shan Pu woke. Though
she'd slept for nearly half a day, she still felt tired, still wanted
nothing more than to roll over and fade back into blissful
unconsciousness. But there was work to be done, so she forced herself
away from her mat and onto her feet.

	Everything had been so much easier before Great-grandmother had
passed away. There wasn't this terrible uncertainty, this feeling of not
knowing what to do. Great-grandmother always knew what to do. And the
Amazons were so used to depending on her wisdom that with her gone, all
they could do was to look for a substitute. But Shan Pu wasn't, and
could never be, Great-grandmother, no matter how much her sisters might
want to force her into that role.

	She slipped on her pants and tunic. Though she had washed most
of it off last night, traces of blood still stained her hands. She'd
killed the invaders with her own hands, just as she'd wanted to. And yet
it left her hollow. Why? They were enemies, and she killed them. It was
as simple as that.

	But... they'd been unarmed, untrained in hand-to-hand combat.
And with each neck she'd snapped, the terror in the other soldiers' eyes
delighted her more and more. What sort of person had she become when she
could take such pleasure from the death of a helpless opponent? She
remembered something that Great-grandmother had said long ago: The
greatest danger in fighting monsters is that one may become a monster
herself.

	"Shan Pu?" Elder Lan's voice called from outside the doorway to
Shan Pu's house.

	"Yes, Elder?"

	"Come with me. There is news of your friends. Tendo Nabiki has
received a telephone call."

	"Yes, Elder," Shan Pu said, banishing other thoughts to the back
of her mind as she walked toward the doorway. The village needed to be
prepared for the inevitable second attack, and to assist Ranma's group
if necessary. Those things were important now; nothing else.

	Shan Pu's foot snagged on something as she neared the exit. She
bent down to look, and water rained down on her from above.

	"Aaaiee!" she screamed, and then gasped wordlessly as the air
vanished from her lungs. The world around her began to dim. What...
how....

                                 ______


	Lan rushed to the side of the fallen heap that had been her
fellow Amazon, a thousand questions running amok in her mind. Had
someone set a trap for Shan Pu? Who could've done such a thing, and why?

	She grabbed Shan Pu's wrist. Her once-flawless skin was withered
and chalky, wrapped loose around shrunken bones. A pulse throbbed
within, irregular and barely noticeable. She was alive, but would need a
healer immediately if she was to stay that way. Had she been... aged?

	Lan looked down at the face that Shan Pu now wore. It was Elder
Ke Lun's.


Gary Kleppe
http://www.akane.org/gary/comics.html


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