(man o man... been a while since I posted new Ranma 1/2 stuff)



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	Engage New Disclaimer: 3. 2. 1. Mark. This story is based upon
the original characters, situations and works of Rumiko Takahashi and
the people of Microprose. All other characters, unless otherwise
specified, that are not a product of these two sources, are the product
of the author. While many of the locations mentioned are real, do not
expect them to be taken perfectly in context. Pop Culture references are
property of... whomever. There'll probably be lots of 'em. The story
itself is, of course, fiction.

	Introductory author's notes: Yes, I'm starting up a new fiction.
I've been tempted to write about XCOM for a while now, and I've recently
jumped back on the Ranma Train. I've taken some liberties with the
source material, but will endeavor to remain as true to it as possible -
though by nature mixing these two stories is a contradiction in and of
itself. There isn't much else to say. The chapterettes of this will be
shorter than my norm (roughly eleven pages instead of twenty) so updates
should be quicker, and hopefully I will get more people reading it in
the first place (long chapters, it seems, tend to scare people). This
is, I believe, the only crossover of this nature yet attempted.

	Enjoy!


-----

	The year is 2005. For six years, mankind has waged a Secret War
against an enemy from Beyond the Stars.


-----

	The Road To Cydonia

	Chapter I Address Unknown


-----

	Written by: Capn Chryssalid jbw@wpi.edu

-----

	Twenty-Three miles East of Nagaoka, far from city lights, alone
under the watchful eyes of the stars, a small fire glowed brightly amid
the trees. Down, beneath the crowns of tall Japanese firs and cedars, a
solitary shape moved. Highlighted by the nearby flames, its motions were
fluid and practiced. To a detached outside observer, they would have
appeared calm and serene, as would have the face of the young man
practicing his Art in this place of solitude.

	It was a calm that, like the ocean, belied a more forceful
intent.

	Ryouga Hibiki, eighteen years old, paused in his meditative kata
and looked up over his shoulder. Suspended high in the sky, the blanket
of stars twinkled mischievously in all their glory. Ryouga watched them,
however, not with wonder but undisguised suspicion. He paused only a few
seconds before returning to what passed leisure. He was still training,
as he always did, but now he was allowing his mind to cool in the
aftermath of a long day of physical hardship.

	While many would, he knew, see it as unprofessional, the so
called lost boy had several of his own styles of preferred katas,
modified from those his father had handed down to him over a decade ago.
And then there was another from a different source, one that had little
to do with his combat style in practice, which was likely why he found
it so relaxing. The movements were (he was somewhat ashamed to admit)
taken directly from the Saotome School of Anything Goes Martial Arts,
and the kata was a direct derivation of one of their own, with only a
slight change in the opening stance.

	There was something about the sweeping moves, light steps, and
confident motions that gave Ryouga a measure of satisfaction and peace
he normally couldn't find in his more aggressive katas. He also believed
that, by running through the Saotome kata, he could better find flaws in
Ranma's own techniques. Ranma had always been faster than him, and
Ryouga had largely given up hope of surpassing him in that respect,
instead focusing his efforts on better predicting the pigtailed one's
own movements and attacks.

	So far, there had been mixed results.

	Beside him, the fire, trapped within a ring of large stones,
hissed and crackled angrily. Ryouga finished the sixty-nine motions of
the borrowed Anything Goes kata, exhaled deeply, and slowly turned
around to look behind him. Like most of his peers, he had a well-
developed danger sense tied to his ki. He could literally feel most
attacks coming. And his had been bugging him, off and on, for well over
a week.

	Still, nothing had come of it.

	Random animals hadn't attacked him (be they giant boars, bears
or man-eating plants) in two months. No: the only animals he'd scuffled
with recently were domesticated. He frowned a little at that, his facial
features settling into their natural state. He walked over to the nearby
bucket of water, and started washing his hands. The cold stung him at
first, as he moved his fingers over his knuckles, washing away bits of
blood and broken skin.

	They would be fully healed by tomorrow.

	Toweling off his hands, and then using another part of the rag
on his face, he paused to look at the tiny embroidered black piglet that
was stitched onto a corner of the woven material. He folded the towel in
half, hiding the design from view, and draped it over his bare
shoulders. Pouring the water over the fire, he made the sure last few
embers died down before taking his leave. Having spent so long in
forests and the like, he had no desire to start a potentially
devastating fire in what was (sometimes to his annoyance) his 'home'
turf.

	Picking up the bucket, he looked around for a few seconds before
spotting the end of a thick hemp rope attached to a nearby tree. Resting
his hands on the rope, he followed it through the forest, for once very
sure of where he would end up. Akari had been very smart in suggesting
it to him, when he had told her of his desire to train away from the
farm. Since his idea of training occasionally included experimentation
with shishi hokodans and bakusai tenketsus, she was happy to have it
occur in the woods a kilometer from the house.

	Ryouga smiled when he thought of her, but frowned again when he
thought of the farm. And the pigs. Akari may love them, but one of the
reasons Ryouga had felt the need to train away from the farm was that he
was starting to get sick of the animals. Hell, he had been sick of them
the moment he'd gotten downwind of them. He hadn't been particularly
fond of swine before his Jusenkyou curse, and he was even less so now.
He trained them out of duty, and out of affection for Akari. He
tolerated them for her sake, and because he couldn't bear the thought of
taking her from her beloved pets (or wards, or whatever) due to his own
selfishness.

	The irony of it was that he probably wouldn't have minded so
much if not for his curse, and that he would likely have never even met
her if not for it. Such was life, it seemed, full of complications. So
many more now, than back when all he had to worry about was revenge on
one Ranma Saotome. Back then, there had been no gray area, no need for
compromises, there had been good and evil. Only years after the feud
began, under far from optimal conditions, did he slowly start to realize
that Ranma was not what he had long imagined him to be. Again: it was
something he would likely have never realized if not for Akane, the same
girl who had kept the two rivals at each other's throats.

	"Ranma... this is all your fault," the lost boy said, with a
fanged grin. There was much he still disliked about Ranma, but there was
a measure of acceptance, too. Somewhere along the line, he had gone from
hating Ranma, to disliking him, to... respecting him. Ryouga shook his
head. Admitting it still left a slightly bitter taste in his mouth.

	It was hard letting go of the past.

	"Akari," Ryouga said her name, and his smile was back. She was
the light of his life, his welcoming beacon on a long dark shore. Her
smile warmed him to his core and made him forget his worries, and her
soft touch made him ache to hold her in his arms. She wasn't a bad cook,
either.

	Even at his leisurely pace, he came upon the house quickly,
walking along a slightly winding dirt path. Soon, he could see lights
just beyond the bushes and trees. It was bright. Very bright.

	Too bright.

-----

	Akari Unryu hummed as she cooked, hands moving with a practiced
confidence that mirrored Ryouga's, almost a mile away. In front of her,
a green bell pepper split into two perfect halves, before being quickly
quartered and then sliced into clean strips. Cutting away the seeds and
the core, she washed them and put them aside. Small local onions, and
store bought chilies followed, before she checked on the marinade and
the Mongolian wok.

	A room away, the satellite television played an American show
called 'West Wing.' Akari only caught the occasional glance while she
worked, but it was taping, so she wasn't unduly worried. It was the
season finale, too, even though the show was a year behind in Japan. One
of Akari's favorite characters, a smart young woman named Donna, was in
the hospital after her car hit a road bomb in Gaza while she was talking
to a cute man who was also British and a photographer. She doubted
they'd kill Donna off, but it was nice to see how everyone sent flowers
and how Josh visited her. There was also something about the President
having to throw a pitch at a baseball game, and not knowing how, but
that was just a little side plot, really.

	Akari wondered why Ryouga didn't seem to like the show.

	Then again, Ryouga didn't seem to like anything on the
television. He helped with the pigs, did work around the farm, and then
went off to train. Sometimes, he lay down on the couch to read, but he
seemed to spend more time outside of the house than in. Even when there
was nothing to do. Akari sighed, wishing that just once he'd spend time
with her, doing something together besides teaching giant pigs to
wrestle.

	Maybe they should take a trip to the city?

	Cooking the noodles, adding them to the wok, Akari idly planned
out how they'd spend the day. She had waited for him to get over his
infatuation with Akane Tendo, she could wait for him to slowly wean off
his wandering tendencies. It was only a matter of time, and then he
would propose, and they would live happily ever after.

	"Ryouga. Strong as a pig, smart as a pig..." Akari blushed.
"Passionate as a pig."

	She knew he didn't like the comparison, and never made it in his
presence, but it was true! He was so wonderful! And the job he did with
the Sumo classes - she could see the improvement in her fighters
already. Last week, Katsunishiki successfully defended his title as
yokozuna, easily demolishing the unworthy competition. Only the hated
Banryu Farm contenders had posed a problem, and Akari knew they were
pumped full of steroids and kami-knew-what. She shook her head in
disgust.

	Then she turned her mind towards the next generation.
Katsunishiki wasn't getting any younger, and soon she would have to see
to the rearing of a fifteenth generation champion. And maybe, by then,
she'd have some 'piglets' of her own to take to the tournament. She
giggled at the thought, knowing Ryouga would have blushed and grumpily
scoffed at the nickname.

	"Grandfather!" Akari called out, as she finished cooking
tonight's main dish. "Dinner in ten minutes, ok?"

	She looked up at the digital clock on the microwave.

	9:34

	They were eating late, as usual. Just like every night Ryouga
stayed out training. Still, Akari didn't mind. She knew he was coming
back, at least, and that he wouldn't end up lost wandering around Japan
for a month or two. Walking over to the table, in the family room, she
began setting things up. She could smell the food in the kitchen as it
cooled, and Akari silently hoped Ryouga made it back before it got cold.
He had insisted they eat without him if he wasn't back by nine thirty,
and by the ravenous way he ate whatever she cooked (hot, cold, or
microwave lukewarm) she knew his tardiness wasn't due to a lack of
appreciation.

	His Art just came first.

	A part of her was jealous, even though it was silly to be so
over something that wasn't even tangible. Besides, it was his Art - his
strength - that helped make him such a perfect man. Without it, he would
never have been able to defeat Katsunishiki. Even in light of that, the
sheer devotion he had for martial arts was somewhat... unnerving at
times. She supposed it would always be that way.

	Akane could understand that, too.

	In fact, Akane would understand it better than she would,
probably. After all, the youngest Tendo was not only a member of a
martial arts family, and part of a martial arts school, but she
practiced it as well. Akari didn't have the luxury of first hand
experience with the Art. She took care of her pigs, and she taught them,
but she was not (and would never be) a martial artist herself. For her,
there would always be some aspect of her chosen that was unreadable, and
almost beyond fathoming.

	The Art.

	The Fight.

	Not for the title of yokozuna, or for prize money, or even for
fame and glory: but for pride and for the pursuit of being the best.
Akari returned from the kitchen with the sealed rice cooker and set it
down on the table. As she did so, her eyes turned to the television. A
long line of static had cut the picture in half, and the voices were
interrupted by hissing. Her petite eyebrows creased, as she wondered
what was wrong with the dish on the roof.

	Then the lights flickered, and the static on the television
became all encompassing. Even as poorly refined as her senses were (in
comparison to many of her new acquaintances in Nerima), she felt an
overwhelming sense of unease in the air. And what was happening was no
simple blackout. In seconds, the house was plunged into darkness.

	At first, the only light Akari saw came from the bright stars
outside.

	And then something new came, outside the house, near the pens.
It was a bright light, whitish blue, and it was accompanied by a distant
humming, steady and mechanical. The light disappeared for a second,
before appearing again. Outside, it moved along the ground, almost like
a searchlight, but it seemed be one big bright ball and not a cone from
any airborne projector.

	Akari Unryu backpedaled, feeling panic well up in her throat,
trying to be released as a scream. She pushed it back down, not wanting
to draw attention. The brightness from outside met the wall of the
house, and slipped through it, engulfing the entire room. Her heart
pounding, Akari felt it wash over her. At first it was warm, like the
sun, but had none of the gentle caress of that star, and when it left,
chills followed.

	Outside, she heard the startled grunts and squeals of the pigs.

	'What's happening...?' Akari gasped, as she felt a weight on her
mind, numbing her thoughts. 'Ryouga!'

	Between the house and the pens, a handful of thin shapes
resolved themselves, highlighted by the glowing light. Akari felt tears
on her cheeks. Her mouth moved, but no words came out. Screaming only
made her throat convulse. Three of the five shapes moved towards the
house.

	Sense overrode fear, and she tried to run.

	But like her voice, her body was unresponsive. Paralyzed. Behind
her, she knew there were knives in the kitchen. There was a heavy
basement door, too. Grandfather had always told her that if the house
was broken into, she should run down there and lock the door. She willed
her body to move, and her hand trembled.

	Then the door creaked open, and though no sound escaped her
lips...

	Akari Unryu screamed.

-----

	"He's struggling! Hold him down!!"

	"That's what I'm... tryin' ta do!"

	"He's broken the restraints! If you can't hold him still, I
won't be able to hit the pressure p..."

-----

	SHOW ME

	Cicadas.

	'Where am I?'

	The point of the umbrella descended like a bomb, the force of
gravity and muscle driving it down. His target, the pigtailed boy, moved
just in time to avoid the strike. That was a fine thing - finishing him
off with a surprise blow held no appeal. This was just a little
demonstration of what was to come. Two pairs of eyes met, one wide and
surprised, the other narrow and vengeful.

	Below them, the ground compacted into a crater over a meter in
radius.

	MORE

	No. I'm wrong: I hear chattering, but too loud to be cicadas.

	'Where am I?'

	Akane's beautiful smile filled him with a mixture of fear and
expectation. He was frozen in place, unable to move, as she held him in
her hands. He wanted to move, to jump away and escape, but her touch was
warm and electric. He felt safe. And then he realized what she was going
to do, and torn between humiliation and expectation, he felt her lips
press softly against his snout.

	NO

	He twirled the ribbon, confident in having a knowledge of its
use that surely surpassed Ranma's. Cloth manipulation was a cornerstone
of the Hibiki Family Martial Arts, and that included a thorough
introduction and mastery of Rhythmic Gymnastics. Ranma, and even this
Kodachi girl, surely could not think beyond the first two levels of that
aspect of the Art. Rythmic Gymnastics was a style of weapon mastery,
evolving out of ancient ninja arts, whereby anything could be used as a
weapon. It was a training exercise for the third step: thinking of
clothing itself as a weapon, and not just a means to obtain one.

	He lashed out, smirking, nailing Ranma on the head with a
weighted ball. It was something of a cheap shot, since Akane had
distracted the pigtailed boy, but Ryouga knew the only thing wounded was
the boy-turned-girl's pride. As he watched Akane talk to Ranma-chan, he
scowled deeply, again mulling over whether to help or hinder his enemy.
He wanted Akane to be avenged, but he also wanted to destroy Ranma's
happiness. Choices. Choices!

	He snapped the ribbon taunt, and planned out his next series of
attacks.

	MORE

	He couldn't get the damn collar off... what was it made of:
titanium!?

	NO

	He descended with the massive block of ice; seemly intending to
crushing his smaller opponent with its sheer weight. The diameter of a
full-grown man, it was more than capable of killing any normal human. Of
course, Ranma Saotome was far from normal. Just as Ryouga had punched
the ice boulder Ranma had thrown at him, so the pigtailed girl did the
same, just as Ryouga made as if to slam it down. He had expected this.

	Quick as lightning, using the ice boulder as distraction, he got
behind her and wrapped his arms around her midsection. For a heartbeat,
the sensation of how she felt surprised him. He still thought of her as
Ranma, but she felt completely different. Not just smaller and trimmer,
but undeniably feminine. He ignored this, however, and set his legs on
the unsteady ice. For someone of his strength, the suplex or suplay was
child's play. The crown of Ranma's head hit the ice perfectly
perpendicular. Again: it was a move that would likely have broken the
neck of any normal person if it didn't kill them with the resulting
concussion and brain hemorrhaging.

	Under Ranma's head, the ice cracked, a split running for over
ten meters in length, and a meter deep.

	YES

	MORE

	Almost like teeth grinding together, but so fast and so loud.

	'Where am I?'

	MORE

	He silently cursed. Bad enough that the girl had kneed him in
the face, and weighed him down by sitting in his lap, now her partner
was falling, leg extended to deliver the final blow? He mentally noted
the height, and the gleaming edge of the skater's blades. He'd been
kicked by those same skates before, and while it hurt, it wasn't life
threatening, even from that height. Mikado seemed to be aiming for the
neck - a wise decision given Ryouga's prone position. A blow would hurt
like hell, and worse... send him into the cold water just inched below
and behind.

	Desperation filled him, granting him one last chance to salvage
his situation. His mind raced, looking for a solution. He thought about
kicking Azusa into her partner, but the thought of hitting a girl who
wasn't Ranma grated on him. Ranma couldn't be used as a shield, not in
the position they were in. He could blow the blow and save himself from
injury, but the momentum would still force him into the water. No: he
had to intercept Mikado, and soon.

	Ryouga's hands found purchase in the massive floating slabs of
the ice rink he had destroyed. The idea was so simple! All he had to do
was pray his strength was up to the task. At the optimal moment in
Mikado's attack, just two meters from his target, Ryouga extended his ki
into the ice, keeping it from splintering. Then, with all the raw muscle
he could spare, he lifted the blocks out of the water and over his head,
like the two jaws of a beartrap. Azusa still unharmed in his lap, Ranma
keeping him out of the water at his feet, he crushed Mikado less than a
body length before the skater's blow would have connected.

	With one last colossal final heave, he threw the two blocks of
ice (and the skater smashed between them) to the other side of the rink,
where tons of frozen water crashed and broke against the concrete.

	YES

	MORE

	The wall gave way with a thunderous explosion of wood, plaster
and concrete. A girl with violet colored hair stood in the hole, her
left leg extended. In her small hands, she held two massive bonbori, far
larger and heavier than normal. Ornate and stylized armor, obviously of
Chinese design and motif, covered her torso. Her maces, too, were
adorned and colorful, more like something in a festival than half-ton
weapons of death. Only when Ranma uttered her name did Ryouga learn it.

	She was Shampoo, from a tribe of fierce Chinese Amazons, the
Joketsuzoku.

	MORE

	Shampoo was too good. Better than Akane. What was she thinking,
fighting with her over... over... Ranma of all things? Didn't she hate
him? Didn't she fight with him all the time? How could she like...

	NO

	He never saw the exact technique used, after Shampoo's feet hit
his face, but he had seen her movements. She had attacked Ranma on a few
occasions, and he had watched the way she moved in the dojo. She was
reasonably skilled, and her strength was greater than that of any
natural girl he had ever seen. Her defense, however, was weak. Even
after she left, he had the feeling that this particular incident was not
the last he, or Ranma, would have involving the Joketsuzoku.

	YES

	MORE

	Ryouga tried to make sense of the old woman. How could she
possibly help him train? Her proportions hardly even seemed human!

	MORE

	He couldn't believe it! Ranma had manhandled him, humiliated
him! How had this happen?

	MORE

	Offering Training again, was she? Bakusai Tenketsu? There was
definitely more to this old woman than he had first thought. It was a
mistake he would not make again. Cologne - Khu Lon - was her name:
another of these strange Chinese Amazons.

	MORE

	The rock shattered like broken glass. Ryouga laughed as the
shards bounced off his toughened body. The old Amazon had done as
promised! The technique didn't work on people, but that hardly mattered
now. He was all but invincible!

	MORE

	Ukyou wasn't a bad fighter, but he was far too slow. Far too
slow. He broke through the cloud of dist with his umbrella. A downward
jab, followed by a sweeping slash, would send this new ally of Saotome
flying.

	MORE

	Mousse unleashed a wave of chains and blades.

	MORE

	Kuno's sword skills...

	MORE

	Old man Saotome...

	MORE

	Pantyhose Taro

	MORE

	Miss Hinako

	MORE

	MORE

	MORE

	With a gasp, Ryouga's eyes shot open. In the harsh light, he saw
a face with no eyes, hollow cavities and a mind of hate and power,
devouring his thoughts and memories. Stripping and searching through
everything that made him ... him. Strong hands, five fingered hands,
held him down as he struggled and screamed. In one horrible instant, in
one unrelenting nightmare tide, it all came back.

	He remembered it all.

	He felt pressure points being pressed, and his body railed
against them. It was still in shock. Still reliving what he had been
forced to see. It wanted to lash out. He heard himself shout one last
flurry of obscenities and curses, and then with a sharp intake of air,
he fell back against the bed.

	He remembered it all.

	Why? Why had they forced him to sleep? Why had they forced him
to remember? The distant voices were human. He recognized them, but he
didn't hear them.

	Oh gods...

	'Akari... oh Akari...'

	He remembered it all.

	Worse: he understood, now, why they had let him live.

	WHERE

-----


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