-----

	It was not an imposing office, nor was it particularly large.
The walls were an imaginative shade of dirty white, and lacked any sort
of interesting ambiance. One side of the rectangular room had a large
map of South America, four feet wide and high, in topographic and geo-
political relief. Nearby, an analog clock ticked away. There was a plain
oak door leading to a side room, and a handful of framed credentials,
the official-looking but tiny text impossible to read from anything more
than a couple feet away.

	Positioned near the back of the room, dead center in the middle,
was a large wooden desk dominated by a neat pile of papers on one side,
and a flat screen computer monitor on the other. To the right of the
desk, a metallic gray filing cabinet stood, a number of books stacked
and arranged neatly on the top. A small fan spun slowly from the
ceiling, supporting a trio of energy efficient lights. Three plain
looking chairs, made of utilitarian metal and plastic, were at different
angles, all facing the desk.

	There was really nothing to occupy oneself with in the room
while waiting.

	Normally, there was something to stare at, or admire. Many
powerful men and women adorned their workspaces with awards, or
pictures, or newspaper clippings. Some had models or souvenirs hanging
around. There was nothing like that here. Behind the desk, sat a
similarly unassuming man, in his mid forties. He seemed to be reviewing
a report, leisurely looking through it and making over exaggerated
gestures every time he turned the pages.

	A plaque on the desk, set in gold and wood, said:

	Eli Perrikos. Lt.Cmdr. UNETCO.

	True to his workplace, the Lieutenant Commander was not the most
physically impressive of men. Even standing, he was only halfway to six
feet tall from five, and sitting didn't make him any more imposing. His
hair seemed a little too sparse, and with a touch too much gray. His
left hand shook slightly, from time to time, the bioshop replacement
that had been grown for him never being fully accepted into the
community of organs that was the human body. No medals adorned his black
uniform, save for those indicating his rank.

	Sitting opposite him, in one of the less-than-comfortable metal
and plastic chairs, was a younger man in a similar uniform. This man had
a full head of black hair, cut short and combed back, and his face
shaved smooth. His rank was less impressive than that of the man in
whose office he waited. He was a Captain, but unlike his senior officer,
he had a bold "PSI" emblazoned under his shoulder insignia, and a small
pyramid with an eye in the middle pinned to his collar.

	Finally, the Lieutenant Commander put down the report, and
cupped his hands in front of himself as he leaned back in his (much more
comfortable) chair. In the year and a half Captain Nivelles had worked
under Eli Perrikos, he had become well aware of the older man's
conservative approach to situations. Perrikos was a stickler for
research and details, more so than strategy. He was generous in giving
people under him the time needed to accomplish a goal, but he was
extremely strict and unforgiving if those deadlines were pushed back. He
didn't like trouble, and didn't generally look for it.

	"Interesting," the Lt.Commander said, and he reached for the
small stack of papers to the left. He took the ones from the top, and
spread them out neatly on his desk before him. Nivelles could see,
upside down, the names on top of the files.

	Saotome, Ranma

	Tendo, Soun

	Tendo, Nabiki

	Tendo, Kasumi

	Tendo, Akane

	Hibiki, Ryouga

	"One is almost tempted to write this whole thing off as some
delusional fantasy," Perrikos continued. "Except... that their memories
all synch, don't they?"

	"As it says in my report, sir. Questioning, and level three
psionic data mining, indicate that the events occurred exactly as
described. None of the individuals show signs of alien imprints, or
falsified memories. One does show signs of mental tampering, but it is
the standard attempt by the aliens to suppress actual memories, in this
case: those of two previous abductions."

	"Work done by an Ethereal, no less," the Commander's eyes
wandered down to the reports. "Yet, that individual regained his
memories on his own."

	"It is remarkable, for someone without psionic training,"
Captain Nivelles admitted. "However, having spent time reading their
surface thoughts while they were being questioned, I can personally
confirm their mental architecture. Well, that of the three men, at
least. All show signs of self-organization, and networked EBMs - Ego
Barrier Matrixes."

	"Very well. Assuming that all this is real, and not some
imprinted alien fabrication... we have a pair of powerful TKs on our
hands, who know about our little visitor problem, and who we cannot
reliably mentally influence. Your report states that you believe you can
manufacture fake memories that will last up to six months in them?"

	"Yes, sir." Nivelles nodded. "All aliens, even Ethereals, have
some difficulty subtly manipulating the human mind, just as we have
great difficulty doing likewise to the many species of alien invaders.
Even working on a fellow human, with a familiar mental architecture,
imposing false memories or subduing memories themselves... it is much
more difficult than forced emotional channeling, mental domination,
popping a blood vessel, or burning out a frontal lobe."

	"Not a viable option, is it?" The other man asked, rhetorically.
"Especially when we have to return them to Japan. This is why I don't
like extraterritorial business, Captain. Which is ironic, really,
considering my position."

	The Lieutenant Commander, the man in charge of Terrestrial
Defense: South America, sighed. This sort of situation was not totally
unique. South America, since the beginning of the war, had been a hotbed
for alien abduction and harvesting missions. It was largely a sideshow
compared to the fighting over the wealthier countries, especially in
Europe and Asia.

	Still, the aliens came to South America regularly, if
unspectacularly. Over the years, there had been more than a few
occasions when XCOM had come across survivors in alien bases, if not
ships. When they cracked open ABS-12, in the mountains of Bolivia, there
had been a dozen 'ongoing experimental subjects' liberated. None who
survived had given the PSIs much trouble, however. Last he heard they
were living their lives, none-the-wiser to what had happened.

	"They have some very impressive abilities, sir," Nivelles
responded, taking up their defense. "They took out several Sectoids,
literally hand to hand. And their telekinetic techniques - this 'Lion
Roar Shot' and 'Pride of the Fierce Tiger' - this is something we could
study and put to use."

	"That much is obvious, Captain. However, based on these reports
from the Tokyo Office, these people are agitators and troublemakers...
and I'm not just talking about normal records, either: school, medical,
professional. I mean Police reports. Even the JSDF! I see here reports
of wanton destruction of property, public and private, repeated and un-
chastised disciplinary problems in school, suspected theft and/or
destruction of religious and cultural artifacts, a formal complaint from
the PRC, damage done to several national parks..."

	The younger man stiffened at the list of accusations, unaware of
them himself.

	"I dare say that these two... young men are borderline criminal.
The older man also has a police record, which involves numerous
references to theft, breaking and entering, destruction of public and
private property, assisting a known felon - some old man named Happosai
- and sexual deviance in the collection of women's underwear, of all
things! More recently, there have been complaints about grifting."

	The Commander let out another sigh, as he quickly reviewed the
other reports.

	"As for the girls," he then concluded. "They seem harmless
enough, except for this Akane character, but they're also useless to
us!"

	"Shall I prep a team for mental insertion, sir?" Nivelles asked.
It was somewhat distasteful duty, but it wouldn't be the first time he'd
done it. XCOM was a top secret organization, and even as much as their
new visitors had been kept in the dark, they knew far too much.

	"Yes... Prepare an insertion team, but keep the actual operation
on standby." Lt Commander Eli Perrikos tapped his index fingers
together, and leaned further back in his chair. "I'm going to give
Noriko a call. Maybe she'll take in these strays. In the meantime, keep
them under guard. Dismissed, Captain."

	Alejandro Nivelles stood, and saluted. "Yes, sir."

	And left. As he did, the young Captain dearly hoped that the Far
East Asia Branch would take up the Commander's offer. Alejandro knew a
number of skilled and powerful Telekineticists, or TKs, ones that could
even do their thing without the aid of a psiamp, but nothing approaching
what the two young martial artists from Nerima could do. The Captain's
instincts told him that they were important, and if there was one thing
a PSI trusted, it was his instincts.

-----

	The accommodations were actually very good; their hosts very
generous, and because of it Akane felt more than a little guilty in not
trusting them. Drying her hair, she checked the time on a thin digital
clock/radio. It looked very much like something out of Nabiki's 'Sharper
Image' catalogues. The rest of the room, however, looked somewhat
quaint. The walls and floor were a nice rosy colored wood, the carpet
was a dark shade of brown, and even the drapes had a relaxed earthy hue.

	There was a large dresser handy, and a closet with a meager (but
apparently free) selection of clothes. The bed was queen sized, and set
in an expensive looking wooden frame. She had quickly discovered that a
good-sized flat screen high definition television was concealed behind
two wooden panels in the wall, and it worked with the compact controller
originally left on the dresser. The walls were decorated with pictures
of exotic looking birds, including one of a very pretty hummingbird. Of
course, Akane couldn't read the name, which was in English, but it
looked good.

	All in all, it was a very nice room.

	And the pictures were appropriate, too, since they had been told
that they were guests at the privately owned Grant-Andean Bird
Sanctuary. Certainly, that seemed to be the truth; the room had even
come with a book about the 'Bird-watching in Eastern Peru.' Still, there
were several things that she found suspicious, besides her usual entry
to the country two days ago. The lodge she was in seemed to be the only
one in the area. The other buildings were off limits, and had such
benign names as 'Climatological Laboratory,' 'VIP Lodging,' and
'Enclosed Helicopter Pad.' The latter was especially odd, because it
looked a lot like a big warehouse, and it had a very wide set of doors
that opened up to the only road into the compound.

	Then there were the armed guards...

	Bird Sanctuaries, even in South America, normally did not hire
armed guards in black uniforms. Did they? Akane doubted it. She also
doubted that they were in the business of giving free room and board to
people, or questioning them about being in an alien spaceship. The truth
was obvious enough: these guys were Peruvian Military. Which brought up
another wave of questions, about what they knew, what they were doing,
and what they planned to do.

	Akane fixed her hair, it was still slightly damp, and put on a
cotton shirt after the usual undergarments. All must have been high
quality cotton, because they were extremely soft and smooth - almost
silky. They were also a little big for her, which led Akane to speculate
that someone had donated it, and that its original owner was a couple
inches taller than the Japanese girl. Still, slightly baggy clothes were
a nice change of pace from being nearly naked. Akane saw a dress, too,
but passed it over for a pair of plain brown cargo pants.

	Akane left her room. Unlike hotels, which used magnetic cards as
keys, these rooms all had old-fashioned bolt locks. Not that she could
have locked her door if she even wanted to, once she left it - they had
not been issued personal copies of their room keys. Walking down the
hall, past identical looking doors, and framed maps of the Bird Preserve
on the opposite side of the wall, she passed Nabiki's, Kasumi's, and her
father's doors. She knew they were already downstairs, eating breakfast.

	Nabiki had announced that she was leaving while Akane was in the
shower. The rooms all seemed to be partnered, so that they shared a
single bathroom each, and the group had been set up in alphabetical
order. Akane idly wondered, while the walked, if Nabiki would try and
steal the complimentary soaps and towels they had been given. None had
any identifying marks, like normal hotel stuff would, so if she did it
would be out of pure cheapness. Or habit. Or some combination of the
two.

	At Ranma's door, Akane knocked to see if he was in.

	"Ranma?" She asked, not receiving an immediate response. She
knocked a few more times. "Ranma?"

	Still no response. Then, the next door down opened, and Ryouga
looked out, in the wrong direction at first, and then at her. He let out
a sigh of obvious relief, and stepped out into the hallway. He wasn't
wearing his usual clothes, instead sporting a plain western shirt,
button down, and light brown khakis. Only his bandannas were the same.

	"Akane-san. Thank the gods!" He clenched a fist; his still
unhurt left one, and held it up to his chin. "That Ranma! He left
without...ah, helping... me downstairs!"

	"So he left without waiting for me, too?" Akane gave the door a
sour look, but walked past it to her friend. "Well, I'm heading
downstairs; do you want to come with me?"

	"I'd be happy to! Thank you, Akane-san!" He gave her a polite
bow, and fell in step right behind her. Akane always thought it was so
sad, Ryouga's directional problems. It must have been an endless source
of shame and disparagement, plus a mark against his pride, to have to
ask directions all the time. Or worse: ask to be led everywhere. Akane
had no problem asking for directions, of course, but doing so more than
once, in an attempt to get to the same location... she couldn't imagine
how frustrating and demeaning that could be.

	"How's the hand?" she asked, as they walked. Behind her, Ryouga
held his right hand, now in a proper white bandage and splint, in his
left palm.

	"It... it is healing very well, Akane-san," he replied, his
voice subdued, just like always when they talked. "Thank you for
asking."

	"When do you think it'll be better?" They walked down a flight
of steps, to the Lodge on the first floor.

	"A week, perhaps." Ryouga then amended. "Maybe longer."

	"Why?" She really wanted him to talk, to interact with others.
He had been brooding in his room for the last twenty-four hours. For a
while, everyone had thought that he'd wandered off and gotten lost.

	"It should not have broken in the first place. The bakusai
tenketsu didn't fail completely, back when... Anyway, it sort of caused
a backlash, I think. This sort of thing has never happened to me before,
and Cologne never mentioned it either. It was that accursed metal... it
just didn't have any breaking points. How could it not have breaking
points?"

	Akane slowed their walk. She saw the others now, eating
breakfast at a table. They were sitting on the floor even though there
were couches and chairs nearby. She steered Ryouga in their direction
while he talked.

	"I thought living creatures didn't have breaking points?"

	"No. They have them, Akane-san. There just doesn't seem to be a
way to use them." Ryouga tilted his head, as he thought of how to better
explain what he meant. Luckily, martial arts was a subject he could
speak of that overcame his normal shyness around her, and most others.

	"The breaking point," he explained, after a few seconds. "It is
not an actual point, like a place, on something. Instead, it is... um...
a feeling. A resonance. An understanding. Through it, one sees the flaws
in a material. The bakusai tenketsu then gives power to those flaws, and
amplifies them. The faster one does it, the more the result is like an
explosion, and the more ki one uses, the wider the area it affects."

	"Hey, you guys finally made it, huh?" Ranma leaned back so he
was looking at them upside down.

	"No thanks to you, Ranma!" Ryouga growled.

	"Hey, don't be that way. I was gonna go and get you in a couple
minutes." Ranma smirked. "I knew you wouldn't be going anywhere, after
all."

	Ryouga stiffened at that. He seemed about to retort, in a less
than witty fashion, when Akane took him by the arm. Normally, when she
did something like this, his whole body went rigid, and he smiled
vacantly. This time, Akane felt his muscles tense in a less
complimentary way. He didn't say anything, but she eased up. She had
hoped that she could cheer him up, like she always was able to do, but
this time something seemed different. Wrong.

	"Let's go get something to eat, ne?" Akane asked, dragging him
to the small self-serve buffet. Ranma watched them go with half-lidded
eyes, before grumbling and getting back to what was left of his food.

	"The blue potatoes are very good!" Kasumi chirped up, from her
position next to her father. Opposite him, Nabiki picked at a large slab
of bacon, somewhat wary of the fattiness therein. Akane and Ryouga
returned with parts of a continental breakfast, and a bowl of cereal
filled to capacity with brown corn flakes.

	They didn't see any of the other guests around, of which there
were at least two. In fact, the main building was surprisingly sparsely
populated. There was no reception desk of any sort, and it was not
handled like any hotel or hostel. People came and went with a strange
sense of purpose, even if that purpose was leisure. The six of them had
a free hand to go anywhere in or around the main building, and to use
any of the amenities, but they had been warned not to stray too far
outside.

	They couldn't even go bird watching, it seemed.

	And they certainly couldn't get any sort of outside line, or
place a call to Nerima. Their rooms all had a phone jack in the wall,
but no actual telephone. It was like being in a minimum-security prison,
but without the freedom of movement criminals in Sweden were afforded.
Could they have run for it? The answer was yes. Even burdened by having
to carry Nabiki and Kasumi, they could have gotten past the
(electrified) fence, and maybe the guards, too. But where would they go?
And how long would it be before someone caught up with them?

	So, in the end, they did what they were told and stayed put. It
wasn't as if they were being mistreated, really. Even the questioning
the day before had been relatively tame. The questions had been
straightforward, and never repeated. There had been no intense lights,
no veiled threats, no 'good cop/bad cop' like on TV. Two men had come to
their rooms, wearing plain clothes. One had asked questions, in
Japanese, and the other had written down notes on a clipboard.

	"As nice as this is..." Nabiki mused, as she poked at her bacon
with her fork. "It isn't exactly how I imagined my first overseas
vacation going."

	"Didn't you always want to go to Las Vegas?" Akane asked, while
she ate. The utensils were a bit awkward, but straightforward in
application: poke, spear, lift, and eat. Cutting most things was easy
enough, just using the side of the fork.

	"Any place exciting!" Nabiki complained. "Being locked up in a
Bird Sanctuary by a bunch of paramilitary types on the other hand... did
you ever actually look through that book we all seem to have in our
rooms? I can't read a word of it, but there are like four hundred
pictures. And half of them look the same. And the television - every
channel is just people yelling nonsense! We need to call a lawyer, or
something. They can't keep us here...."

	"Ryouga," Soun asked, when Nabiki's complaining died down to a
quiet grumble. "Did you sleep well, last night?"

	It was an odd question, and it caught the lost boy by surprise,
especially because Soun's tone of voice was not concerned, or even
curious. It was as if the older man suspected something, but needed a
bit more proof to back it up.

	Ryouga finished chewing a bit of croissant, and answered,
"Actually, I did. I've slept like a log the last two days. You'd think,
after everything... that it'd be impossible to have a good night's sleep
ever again."

	Soun nodded. "Ranma?"

	The pigtailed boy shrugged. "Yeah. I slept pretty well. It
helped that there was no half-ton panda trying to roll over me in his
sleep, or ancient pervert waiting to splash me come morning. I went out
like a light."

	Soun then turned to his eldest daughter. "Kasumi?"

	"Well..." Kasumi responded, a little shyly. "I suppose I also
slept very well. The bed was quite comfortable, and we were all very
tired from before. Maybe that was it?"

	"Now that I think about it, it is rather unusual," Nabiki added
in. "You know when you sleep, and you just wake up? Like you haven't had
any dreams, but you know you've had a good night's sleep? That's
happened twice now."

	"Same here," Akane spoke up. "Even right after I wake up, I
can't remember dreaming anything. It isn't like I've forgotten what
happened either, back on that ship."

	"Everything else feels normal." Ranma stood up, and sat on one
of the couches nearby. "It wasn't strange, like on that ship. If
anything, it feels a bit like Nerima."

	"Ranma's right," Ryouga said, with obvious displeasure. "There's
a feeling you get in Nerima. I think it is from all the martial artists
in the area. This is a little different, though. More like... a Buddhist
monastery. There's a sort of tranquility here. A sort of purpose. More
than just the energy of Nerima, which is just the opposite."

	"Sounds like a bunch of religious mumbo jumbo to me." Nabiki
waved her hand in the air, dismissively. "You know what it is? It's the
fact that we're surrounded by armed guards, probably Peruvian Special
Forces, who obviously know about these aliens. Hence, we feel safer,
hence, we sleep better."

	"Hello! Konnichiwa!"

	The greeting, spoken in less than perfect Japanese, came from
the door leading outside. Two men walked in, both of whom the Nerima
crew recognized. The taller of the two, the man with blonde hair, was
the one who had been keeping notes during their individual
interrogations. The shorter was the one who had actually asked them
questions. Both wore similar jungle-camo themed pants, the former having
a black shirt with a small red shield over the right breast, while the
latter had a more festive shirt with floral colors in random patterns.
Both also had sunglasses, which they removed when they stepped indoors.

	"How is everyone doing?" the shorter man asked, his Japanese was
much better than the other man's, but possessed of an unusual accent. He
also looked to be of Japanese ancestry, but with darker skin, and
slightly rounder eyes. His shirt also had a symbol, that was much more
recognizable, representative as it was of Brazilian soccer. Which
explained both his mixed name, and accent.

	"We are well, Ribeiro-san," Soun, as the oldest, spoke for the
group. "However, we would like to know when we can place a call to
Tokyo."

	"Damn right!" Ranma blurted out. "When're we gonna find out what
happened back there?"

	Nabiki looked like she was about to say something, too, but she
held her tongue.

	"Well, I can't give you a definite time," the shorter man,
Fukida Ribeiro, explained amiably. "We're arranging transport for you
back to Japan, but there's paperwork and... other issues to clear up
first. But I know it must be boring cooped up in here. There's a small
village a few kilometers to the southeast, how about I drive you there
and you can get some souvenirs or something? This part of Peru is well
known for its native arts and crafts. They make some very nice clothes
using local pima cotton, rugs out of alpaca wool. My wife says the
pottery is also quite beautiful."

	"We don't have any money," Nabiki spoke, and she didn't sound
happy about that particular part of their situation.

	"That's quite alright," Ribeiro responded with a smile. "As long
as it isn't outlandishly expensive, we'd be happy to make it our treat.
As a way of making up for keeping you here against your wishes."

	"Anything is better than sitting around here." Akane wasn't as
bored as her sister, Nabiki, but it was true: there was nothing to
watch, read, or do, and no one to talk to.

	"Well..." Kasumi also seemed amenable. "It couldn't hurt."

	"If I'm not paying, I'm always game!" And that was Nabiki,
unsurprisingly. From his seat on the couch, Ranma rolled his eyes in
disgust. Ryouga similarly had no interest in going to some village to
get trinkets and rugs, especially since he or Ranma would inevitably end
up carrying them. And, of course, he didn't want to get lost. Not in the
middle of South America.

	His Spanish was simply atrocious.

	"If my girls are going I will accompany them," Soun said, with
no small amount of resignation.

	"Whatever. Pass." Ranma put his hands behind his head, and got
comfortable.

	Ryouga crossed his arms over his chest. "I think I'd also rather
stay here."

	The others talked a little longer, retrieved a few pairs of
sandals, and soon enough they were gone. Ryouga finished his food,
slowly, while Ranma relaxed. Only a few minutes later, the blonde man
returned. The expression on his face was different, much more intense.
Still, as far as they could tell, he didn't know more than a smattering
of Japanese. For a few seconds, he just stood there, watching the two
younger men.

	"Saotome, Ranma. Hibiki, Ryouga. I knew the two of you would
stick around. In fact, I was counting on it," he finally said, and
smiled.

	His Japanese was more than passable, though his tone of voice
was unpracticed. It was almost as if he had learned the language, but
never actually used it before. The two martial artists accessed the man.
There was something unusual there. Not quite the bearing of another
practitioner of the art, but something close to it.

	"Can we help you, Mr...?" Ryouga asked. He had far more
experience talking to strangers than Ranma did, for obvious reasons.

	"Nivelles." The Spaniard inclined his head politely. "Alejandro
Nivelles. And yes... yes, you can..."

-----


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