-Chasing the Wind-
                               By J. Austin Wilde
                               Fission Park Press



J. Austin Wilde, K.B.C.S.
Minister of Propaganda and
Super Critical Reactor Axe Man
Fission Park Press
jaustin@aloha.net




                                   Synopsis:


     A group of scientists visit Nerima to study a 'magnetic disturbance'. 
Ranma and Akane are caught in the middle of the 'disturbance' as it 
arrives several days earlier than predicted. There are no immediate effects, 
and the scientists leave Japan to continue their work.
     Ranma and Akane begin experiencing nightmares. To their horror, they 
learn that they are actually sharing their nightmares. This progresses to the 
point where neither can get any sleep. Akane believes Shampoo is 
responsible and confronts her in the Cat Cafe. Shampoo professes her 
innocence, and Ranma takes Akane to see Doctor Tofu about their problem.
     Doctor Tofu examines them and discovers that something has skewed 
their 'ki' in opposite respects to each other. Until a cure can be found, 
Ranma and Akane must stay close to each at all times or the nightmares 
will continue and they will become very ill. They conclude that the 'event' 
they were part of may be responsible. Ranma calls on his friend Hiro 
Ohata for help. Hiro is working for the scientists as a kind of Man Friday.
     Hiro replies to their plea by sending them passports, plane tickets and 
a sum of money to come to London, England.



                                 Part Three:
                             Far From Home


                                Chapter One


     "You're leaving the country?"
     Ukyo couldn't have looked more surprised than she did now.
     Ranma didn't blame her. He hardly believed it himself.
     "We don't have much choice," he remarked.
     Akane nodded in agreement.
     "Why can't they just come back to Japan? I mean if they _are_ the ones 
responsible for this, they should be the ones going to all the trouble." Ukyo 
protested.
     "This whole thing is probably just some kind of freak accident," Ranma 
replied. "And they _are_ going to a lot of trouble. They're paying all of our 
expenses to travel to England."
     "So when are you leaving?" Ukyo asked.
     "Tonight," Ranma answered. "We catch our flight at nine o'clock."
     "Tonight?"
     "We still need to get ready, otherwise we would have left this morning." 
Akane added.
     "Nabiki's taking us shopping," Ranma finished.
     "I'm not even going to ask about that," Ukyo said. 
     "We're kind of late as it is," Akane observed. "But we just wanted to tell 
you what was happening."
     Ranma reached into his pocket. He withdrew Hiro's personal card and 
gave it to Ukyo.
     "If you really need to reach us, this is Hiro's voice mail number. And 
we'll call you when we get to England, don't worry."
     Ukyo took both of their hands in hers. "You two have a safe trip. Take 
care of yourselves."
     "We'll be all right," Akane assured.
     They left the okonomiyaki shop. Ukyo shook her head and wiped down 
the counter for lack of anything better to do. The lunch crowd wasn't due 
for another hour.
     **Of course I'm going to worry about you two,** she thought sadly.


     Ranma and Akane weren't a block from Ucchan's before running into 
Shampoo and Mousse. The two were carrying a prodigious order of 
takeout to the Mitsuhamas; whose appetites were legendary. Shampoo 
waved cheerfully from behind her pile of takeout boxes.
     "Nihao Ranma! Nihao Akane! You look much better today!"
     Ranma waved back. Even Akane was civil to her erstwhile rival, and 
smiled in return.
     "Where you going this morning?" She asked them.
     "We've gotta lotta stuff to do," Ranma started.
     "And we're kind of late," Akane finished.
     Undaunted, Shampoo bounced along past them. "Okay now. I see you 
later perhaps?"
     "Maybe," Ranma replied cheerfully. He wasn't sure if he should tell her 
what their plans really entailed.
     "Okay. Have good day!"
     Mousse tried to wave his hand as he struggled beneath the lion's share 
of the load.
     "<They seem to be all right today,>" Shampoo observed in Chinese.
     "<I guess so. I really can't see them underneath all this food,>" Mousse 
answered.


     Nabiki was a little cross with them when they returned home.
     "You could have told me you were going to visit Ukyo. We could have 
cabbed over there and then got on our way."
     "We just wanted to walk around the neighborhood once before we left," 
Akane replied.
     "You make it sound like you're never coming back," Nabiki remarked.
     "Who knows how long this is going to take?" Ranma asked in defense 
of Akane.
     "Oh, it doesn't matter now I suppose. Come on, let's get going."



                             *       *       *



     "They received the invitation Professor," Hiro announced as he came 
into the study with a silver tea service and two china cups.
     He set the tray down on a table between them. He carefully poured two 
cups of tea for them, splashing just a little milk and a lump of sugar into 
McFogg's cup. 
     "Splendid," McFogg said as he sipped the tea.
     Hiro sat down across from the Professor and sipped from his own cup. 
"Do you really think they can help us?"
     McFogg nodded. "Mister Clay seems to think so. I am inclined to 
believe Mister Clay." He picked up a finger sandwich from the tray and ate 
it in one bite.
     "Hmm... Hiro, you've mastered the secret of the cucumber sandwich."
     "Thanks Professor," Hiro replied. He returned to the thought that was 
utmost in his mind. "Do you think we can help _them?_"
     McFogg nodded again. "I don't see why not."
     "That's good. Saotome's a good friend, and the way he sounded on my 
voice mail message, he sounded in pretty dire straits."
     McFogg ate another sandwich and patted Hiro's arm. "Fear not Mister 
Ohata. Your friends will be fine. By the by, how did you come to know this 
Mister Saotome and his fiancée?"
     "He and I were in the same platoon in Korea. We went through a lot of 
action together. I met Akane-chan when I came over to visit."
     McFogg nodded and drew his pipe from his waistcoat. The dismantling 
of the former North Korea's war machine continued as American and South 
Korean forces maintained the peace. UN Inspectors uncovered more and 
more of the former communist country's nuclear weapons program every 
day.
     "Ah yes. You and he were in Operation Chancellor together?"
     "Yep. Us and this other guy named Hibiki. We were the only ones to 
make it out of our team."
     "Then I am to assume that your friend Saotome is quite resourceful?"
     "Sure is."
     "And his fiancée?"
     Hiro thought a moment about Akane. He really didn't know her that 
well. "She's a...What's that word?...Spitfire...She's a real spitfire. They're 
perfect for each other."
     "That's a good thing then. This might not be easy for them."



                             *       *       *



     "Well?" Ranma asked.
     Nabiki and Akane looked him over thoroughly. Both women smiled 
with satisfaction at what they beheld.
     "If you looked any sharper, they'd have to wrap you up in a sword 
sheath," Nabiki said proudly.
     Ranma was wearing a charcoal colored cashmere suit from Hong Kong 
with white silk shirt and wine colored silk tie also from Hong Kong. Wine 
suspenders added another flash of color, and his black leather Italian shoes 
gleamed in the soft light of the Ginza boutique. Nabiki fluffed at his pigtail, 
eyeing it from several angles.
     "I was a bit worried about the pigtail, but no, it suits you even in a suit."
     Ranma shrugged. "Whatever you say."
     He looked at Akane. "What do you think?"
     Akane looked him over again. **He looks so handsome! I think I liked 
him in his uniform better, but oh wow!**
     "You look good," she said evenly.
     Nabiki brushed at his lapel. "Don't mind her, I don't think she's being 
entirely honest with you anyway." She winked at Akane.
     Ranma scratched the top of his head. "I hope so, how much is this going 
to cost?"
     Nabiki dismissed him with a wave of her hand. "Better that you didn't 
know. In any case you can't afford to make a habit of dressing like this every 
day."
     The tailor returned with several swatches of material. Nabiki picked out 
several colors and patterns and the tailor returned to the back of the shop. A 
second tailor appeared and took some alteration measurements, pinning them 
in place on the clothing.
     "We can have this ready for you in an hour Miss Tendo," the tailor 
announced.
     "No need to rush on our account," Nabiki offered. "We'll be shopping for 
some time to come."
     The tailor carefully removed the suit coat as an assistant directed Ranma 
back to the dressing room to collect the remainder.
     "As you wish, Miss Tendo."
     Ranma returned dressed in his usual red Chinese shirt and black trousers.
     "Whew, I never thought I'd get out of that stuff," he remarked. "Now 
what?"
     Nabiki smiled. "Well... Since we have to wait on the alterations, I 
thought we should take care of your fiancée next."
     "Wait on the alterations? I thought you said I looked good as I was?"
     Nabiki clucked disparagingly, "My dear Ranma, those alterations will 
_only_ bring out that stunning physique of yours. Remember: If you 
have it, flaunt it! Now shall we see to Akane?"
     Ranma sighed and followed them out of the boutique. Little did he 
realize the true horror he was getting himself into.


     **I shoulda known...**He thought sadly. He had been waiting for two 
hours, and they hadn't gotten as far as deciding on a pair of shoes yet! 
**Women...!**
     "What do you think?" Akane asked him for about the thousandth time.
     **Like I have any clue about women's fashions,** he thought bitterly. 
**It's not like they're gonna listen to me anyway.**
     "It looks great," he answered for about the thousandth time.
     "You really think so?" Akane asked. "I mean the color isn't _quite_ 
what I was looking for." She held up a dress with the shoes. "I mean I like 
them, but they don't quite go with this dress."
     "You haven't even decided on the dress yet, so how can you knock the 
shoes?" Ranma replied. His thin veneer of patience was starting to wear 
thinner.
     Akane was oblivious to his question. Nabiki had just shown her this 
dress that was _so darling!_
     Ranma just buried his face in his hands and tried to endure it all.



                            *         *          *



     Ranma had forgotten how much he hated good-byes. His parents were 
there making a fuss over him, Mister Tendo was carrying on, it was just too 
much to deal with. He just wanted to get on the plane and get this over with. 
The faster they were cured, the faster they could return home.
     Kasumi had been especially sweet in getting their clothes and sundries 
ready and packed. Nabiki had found them a bargain on a good looking set 
of luggage. He supposed carrying his kit bag would have looked a little out 
of place with the suit.
     At last the family said their good-byes and Nabiki packed them into a 
taxi to take them on the long ride to Narita International Airport. Akane was 
already showing a little fatigue, and lay her head upon his shoulder.
     When they arrived he paid the cabbie in cash, nearly the last of the yen 
Hiro had sent. They wouldn't be in Japan for much longer anyway. Akane 
had their boarding passes and checked their luggage, leaving him to puzzle 
his way through a map of the massive Narita complex to find their terminal 
and gate.
     He was still puzzling this when Akane came up from behind, pointed 
directly to the desired gate, and dragged him away by the sleeve.
     "I can't imagine how you ever made it in the army when you can't even 
read a map," she scolded. "You'd think you were Ryoga or something."
     He bit back a rebuttal, deciding that he'd get even later. She was bound 
to screw up sooner or later.
     When they reached their gate, they were just boarding the First Class 
passengers. Ranma followed Akane down the jet way as the roar of 
departing flights thundered in the night. It reminded him of fighters on 
bombing runs. He found himself waiting for the flash and howl of SAMs to 
rise in challenge.
     "What is it?" Akane asked.
     Ranma returned to reality. "Nothing," he replied idly. **Gonna take 
awhile I guess.**
     They found their seats and stowed their few carry-ons. Akane had a 
portable CD player in her purse, and she put the headphones on.
     **Not another Zard album!** Ranma thought in horror. **It's gonna 
be a long flight...**
     Somewhere aft came the bustle of the Business and Coach Class 
passengers boarding. A flight attendant thoughtfully drew the curtains that 
separated First Class from the rest of the aircraft. The lights shifted, 
indicating that the Boeing 747 was starting its four turbofan engines.
     The engines howled up to idle speed, barely a dull whine from the quiet 
of the forward part of the cabin. He could feel them through the deck. He 
could also feel the ground crew slamming the cargo doors shut and the 
sounds of the hydraulic plant cycling the control surfaces in preflight.
     The lights shifted again, they were on internal power now. A flight 
attendant took up her station for the preflight safety brief. Flying made him 
a little nervous, and he found he was rapt with attention. Akane was reading 
one of the in-flight magazines.
     The JAL 747 taxied to the active runway, waiting its turn in the queue 
as other jets roared off into the night. Ranma checked his seat belt fastened 
again. Akane was now asleep beside him, her headphones had fallen down 
around her neck.
     The engines spun up to full power, and the 747 began to pick up speed. 
They seemed to hang there not quite on the ground and not quite in the air 
for what seemed an eternity, and for that eternity of three seconds Ranma 
was sure they weren't going to make it. Despite his doomsaying, the jetliner 
surged aloft, climbing higher and turning out towards the sea as the flaps 
retracted with servomotor whines.
     He looked out the window to the blaze of lights that was Tokyo. He had 
no idea where Nerima was in all of that yellow and white light, only that it 
was down there somewhere. The JAL 747 adjusted course, still climbing to 
cruise altitude, and headed west over the Pacific Ocean.



                               Chapter Two



     Of all the people Ukyo expected to see coming into her shop just before 
closing time, she was sure Tatewaki Kuno wasn't one of them. The 
swordsman had Nabiki Tendo in tow, although knowing Nabiki it was tough 
to determine who was towing whom. The kendoist began to take a seat at a 
booth, but Nabiki collared him and brought him to the counter.
     "Hey, Ukyo!" Nabiki greeted.
     Ukyo smiled at the way she handled Kuno. "Good Evening Nabiki. 
What can I get for you?"
     Nabiki looked at Kuno, who had that shell-shocked look that he 
affected whenever he dealt with Nabiki on uneven terms, which was most 
of the time. She looked back to Ukyo and smiled.
     "Two of your super deluxe with absolutely everything and a couple 
cokes."
     Ukyo poured out the batter and set to work, spatulas flying.
     "Tell me again why we must take our victuals in this establishment 
when I so generously offered a locale more, shall we say, upscale?" 
Kuno asked in his flowery manner of speaking.
     Ukyo ignored the slight for Nabiki's sake.
     "Is there a problem with Ucchan's?" Nabiki asked innocently.
     Kuno caught the glint of heat death in Ukyo's eyes and chose his words 
carefully.
     "Not at all," he began. Ukyo appeared to calm slightly. "It merely strikes 
me as peculiar that you would not take advantage of my generosity -as you 
have so often in times past."
     Nabiki scoffed. "Nonsense Kuno-baby. You are a prince among men; it 
would have been ungracious of me to refuse such generosity."
     Kuno thought about this for a minute.
     "Then why, pray tell, are you doing it now?"
     Nabiki gave him a look she reserved for the purely simple-minded. "Oh 
the things I do for you Kuno-baby!" She lamented. "You asked me where 
you could find your precious Pig-Tailed Girl tonight and I take you to the 
place she likes to frequent, and now you insult me!"
     Ukyo clucked disapprovingly.
     Kuno's face reddened in shame.
     "Forgive me Nabiki Tendo," he implored. "I had no idea that my Lovely 
Goddess blessed this establishment with her presence!"
     Nabiki twisted the knife. "I'm sure you could make it up to me," she 
said, leaving her statement open-ended.
     Kuno sighed tiredly. "Yes Nabiki Tendo?" He tensed for the blow.
     "Well, there is this all night ice cream shoppe a few blocks from here. 
They make the best milk shakes."
     "They sure do," Ukyo added. Seeing Kuno squirm was redress enough 
for his earlier unflattering remark.
     "Very well," he said. Ukyo placed his okonomiyaki smartly before him, 
and he began to eat with little vigor.
     Nabiki on the other hand ate with abandon. The best okonomiyaki was 
the kind someone else paid for.
     Ukyo finished wiping down the counter and the floors as Nabiki and 
Kuno ate. Nabiki carried on a chatty conversation with Ukyo as she worked 
to close up. Kuno sat stoically and finished his now cold okonomiyaki.
     "I finally took the plunge," Ukyo said happily.
     "Oh yeah?" Nabiki asked.
     "Yup. I'm going on vacation!"
     Nabiki gave her a puzzled look. "Who's going to run the shop?"
     Ukyo flashed her a 'V' with her fingers. "I sweet talked a cousin of mine 
to take over for a couple weeks. Dad says he needs the business experience, 
but also that he's a pretty good okonomiyaki cook in his own right. I've 
needed some time off for so long now, it'll be good to get away."
     "Where are you going?"
     "Guam! I know it's not Hawaii or anything, but the beach around here 
is getting old, and I really didn't feel like going to Okinawa. I just wanted 
to get away from Japan for awhile. I'm going to take scuba diving lessons 
while I'm there."
     Nabiki nodded approvingly, "I've heard there's lots of good diving spots 
there. But where did you get the money to afford a trip like that? I thought 
you were saving up to go to school?"
     Ukyo smiled. "You know those scientists that were here, the ones that 
messed up Akane and Ranma...?" 
     Kuno's ears perked up at this.
     "Well they must not have known how much money they were throwing 
around, because they kept leaving a lot more than they owed on the tables, 
and they ate here every day! We're talking an extra two weeks of business 
for nothing! It won't take much from my savings to make up the difference, 
and with my cousin Eiji running the place while I'm gone I won't be losing 
any business."
     Nabiki thought about that. "Yeah, that sounds like them all right," she 
said, thinking about the ridiculous sum of money Hiro had sent Ranma. 
**Very well heeled indeed.**
     Kuno decided to interject.
     "What did you say pertaining to Saotome and the sweet Akane Tendo?" 
he asked Ukyo.
     Ukyo flashed a look to Nabiki. Nabiki shrugged in reply.
     "You mean you didn't hear?" She asked him.
     "Little in the way of knowledge doth slip through my grasp fair Ukyo, 
but in truth this minutiae did. I implore you, what sayeth you?"
     "Well I'm only getting this second hand, but I guess some westerners 
were conducting a science experiment in the neighborhood, and Ranma 
and Akane got caught up in the middle of it. Their ki has been 'thrown out 
of whack' to hear Ranma tell it. Now they have all sorts of nightmares. 
They just flew to England tonight to see if there was a cure for their 
problem."
     Kuno looked to Nabiki for confirmation.
     "That about sums it up Kuno-baby. I put them on a plane about two 
hours ago."
     "Their lives are not in danger are they?" he asked.
     Nabiki was starting to feel puzzled. **What does old Kuno-baby care 
about Ranma?**
     "I'm not sure, it's possible I guess."
     Kuno lifted his handsome face to the heavens, as if some epiphany 
would suddenly descend upon him.
     "Oh curse you Saotome!" He cried. "Thou hast fled from me in thy 
hour of need, heedless of my oath! Dost thou wish to make mockery of 
my just debt?! Curse you and curse me for my tardiness to these affairs!"
     "Huh?" Nabiki and Ukyo said in unison.
     He took hold of Nabiki's hand and dragged her toward the door.
     "What the hell's going on Kuno?" Nabiki yelled.
     "Haste! Make haste!" Kuno cried. "To England's fair shores, the White 
Cliffs of Dover beckon! Onward we speed into the night on this; Duty's 
Errand and Honor's Right!"
     They made it as far as the door when two men walked in.
     "I'm terribly sorry, but we're closed for the evening!" Ukyo called to 
them.
     The two raised small clear poly bottles and jetted lines of a watery liquid 
into Kuno and Nabiki's eyes. Both spluttered cries of surprise and dropped 
like stones to the floor, twitching for a few seconds before lying still.
     Ukyo didn't like the looks of this one bit. Her huge spatula was drawn 
in her hand and ready at high guard.
     "I don't know who you clowns are, but that was a big mistake!" She 
cried.
     They casually jetted more of the liquid at her. She used her giant 
spatula as a shield, jumping over the counter to attack them. A brace of 
smaller spatulas rippled from her free hand, pinning one of the two to the 
wall. She was just raising her giant spatula to swat the other down when 
the liquid flecked upon it dribbled down over her bare skin.
     The effects were nearly immediate. She felt an icy sensation run down 
her arm, numbing and paralyzing. The ice quickly reached her heart and she 
swooned to her knees. The man looked at her passively, waiting for her to 
fall. It was then that she noticed the heavy rubber gloves each man wore.
     She fell at his feet. Her spatula clattered uselessly beside her. Her long 
fall of dark brown hair covered her face, billowing slightly with her deep 
even breaths.
     A third man walked in. He was a giant of a man, towering over six and 
a half feet tall. Thick curly black hair was piled atop a bullet shaped head 
that seemed to protrude directly from his linebacker's shoulders without the 
trivialities of a neck.
     "<This one seems to have given you trouble, Misha.>" He observed, 
gesturing to the fallen Ukyo.
     "<There was no trouble.>" The one standing before Ukyo replied.
     The big man pointed to the second man, who was pulling himself free 
of Ukyo's spatulas. "<I think Dmitri Grigoryvich may contest that,>" he 
observed dryly. "<Make this quick, this is not a place used to disturbances 
I think.>"
     "<Shall we take all three?>" Misha asked.
     "<We are only here for the two women, but now it seems this fellow 
shall accompany them. We must keep things tidy, eh?>"
     "<Yes we must,>" Misha replied. "<If not for this simple fact, I would 
not be using such a detestable substance.>" He held up the clear bottle for 
emphasis.
     "<Our little DMSO/Pentobarbital Sodium cocktail does not agree with 
you?>" The big man asked Misha.
     "<I think it is a clumsy and dangerous potion;>" Misha replied. He 
stooped to monitor Ukyo's pulse. "An overdose may cause central nervous 
system depression to the point of death. And as for the precautions _we_ 
must take..."
     "<Perhaps, but they are easier to carry than a dart gun. Even the 
Japanese ask questions.>"
     "<And will these be any easier to move through a diplomatic pouch?>" 
Dmitri asked. He had Nabiki in a fireman's carry.
     "<That is not your concern Dmitri. _I_ am your concern. Now finish 
this.>" The big man said ominously. Neither Misha nor Dmitri wished to 
further incense him.
     They carried Nabiki, Kuno and Ukyo into a waiting car, a large Zil that 
was terribly unsuited to the narrow streets of Tokyo. The large man 
searched Ukyo's pockets, withdrawing her keys. They tidied the restaurant 
up, turned off the griddles and the lights and locked the doors. The Zil 
pulled out into the street, and was gone by the time a passing policeman 
on a bicycle came by to check on Ucchan's.
     **All closed up. Everything looks quiet.** He thought, and pedaled 
off on his beat.



                             *       *       *



     "If I have anything to say about it, I'm never gonna set foot in LAX 
again," Ranma vowed.
     Akane nodded in agreement. British Airways Flight 1007 with service 
to New York and London bucked in the air as the jetliner passed through 
turbulent air over the Sierra Nevadas. The ruddy arid mountains gave way 
to the great salt flats and sun hardened earth of the Mojave Desert. Thin 
and wispy clouds scudded below them. Tiny white lines of roads criss-
crossed the yellows and browns of the wastes.
     The fasten seatbelts light flicked on with a soft gonging tone as the 
jetliner bucked again. The voice of the Captain issued from the speakers 
in his unperturbed British accent assuring his passengers that they would 
clear the turbulence quickly and wouldn't you please remain seated for 
just a little longer.
     Ranma continued to stew about Los Angeles International Airport, 
LAX. They had to collect their baggage, clear US Customs, arrange 
passage on the next British Airways flight to London, and actually make 
their flight on time. Their Diplomatic Visas spared them any trouble 
with Customs; but then they were so overworked that Ranma doubted 
they would have given them any trouble without the visas. 
     LAX itself was only easily accessible if you remained on the same 
carrier. Changing from Japan Air Lines to British Airways meant walking 
a good three quarters of a mile from one terminal to the other through 
a maze of tunnels. There were little carts that ferried passengers to and 
fro, but Ranma couldn't get any of them to stop for him and Akane. His 
first exposure to Americans in their own country was less than flattering 
to say the least. Then again, it might have just been LA.
     He had slept a little on the seemingly endless flight from Tokyo to 
Honolulu, had snoozed intermittently on the way to LA, and was now 
looking forward to another six hours in the air to reach New York's La 
Guardia Airport for a fuel and passenger layover prior to the final hop 
across the Atlantic. In other words he was feeling cramped, tired, bored, 
and grouchy. Akane on the other hand had endured the flight with angelic 
patience, a fact which puzzled him. Patience had never been one of 
Akane's strong suits.
     "This turbulence is starting to bug me," he groused.
     Akane grinned, "Oh I dunno, I think it's kind of fun!"
     Ranma made a face as if he'd suddenly tasted something awful. "You 
would."
     "Oh come on, this is great! We're on vacation, and there isn't anyone 
else but the two of us. No Happosai to avoid, no Kuno to fight, no 
Shampoo with all of her tricks. Best of all, this is free!"
     **What happened to being nervous about leaving home?**
     "Is that how you look at this?" He retorted. "A vacation? We're doing 
this so we don't have to spend the rest of our lives tethered to each other."
     Akane shot him an angry look.
     "What?" He asked when she didn't say anything. She turned away and 
stared forward at the seat in front of her.
     "Aw come on, now what did I do?" He asked her.
     She remained stubbornly silent.
     "Come on Akane. What ever it was I said or did, I'm sorry. Okay?"
     She picked up a magazine she had purchased in the Honolulu Airport 
and began to thumb through it, taking great pains to ignore him as she did 
so.
     "Is this the part where you stop speaking to me for three days?" He 
asked.
     Silence.
     "I guess so," he remarked tiredly.
     **In spite of everything we can't ever seem to get along for very long... 
Hot and cold, that's what we are to each other,** he observed quietly. **I'd 
settle for a nice comfy warm, but I have no idea how to do it.**
     He continued to dwell on such thoughts for awhile. He looked once at 
her as she read the magazine. She had devoured the thing during their 
layover in Honolulu, so he wondered just what it was that was so 
interesting that she would read it again. Unless it was just boredom, he 
decided it was simply her way of getting back at him for whatever he 
had said to make her angry.
     **Well you tried to apologize, so what else can you do?** He asked 
himself. The answer came with long experience in these matters. **Just 
ride out Hurricane Akane till she blows over again, I guess.**
     A meal came, he ate it with absolutely no zeal. A movie was shown, he 
watched it because he had nothing else to do and because he was going to 
need the exposure to English very soon. He slept for another hour before 
touching down in New York. The layover seemed endless, but eventually 
they were airborne for the last leg of the trip. It was night again, and the 
Atlantic Ocean was consuming blackness flecked with tiny jewels of 
reflected moonlight.
     Another six hours in the air. Akane had curled up to a novel she had 
purchased in a La Guardia bookshop. Her CD player sat on her lap atop 
the royal blue blanket she had wrapped herself in. She was engrossed in 
the novel, and didn't notice the way he looked wistfully at her.
     He tried to sleep, but he was too restless to do so. Instead he left his 
seat for another walk up to the upper deck lounge of the 747. A few people 
played cards and moved little colored pegs across a board. He couldn't 
remember what the game was called.
     A young woman motioned for him to come over. She was Caucasian, 
with wavy brown hair that was pulled into a tight chignon at the base of her 
neck. Her eyes were a curious gray-green that caught the yellow light of the 
lounge's lamps in bright flashes of fire. Her skin had an odd complexion to 
it as well, as if there was a thin oil on water film embossed upon it. She was 
thin of face and fine of features, but otherwise pretty to look at.
     He really had nothing else to do, and so he joined her at the bar. The 
bartender took his heavily accented request for a glass of water with a 
friendly nod. The woman chuckled softly.
     "<First time abroad?>" She asked him. He couldn't place her accent.
     "<Yes,>" he answered. "<Is it obvious?>"
     She chuckled again. "<Travel doesn't seem to agree with you,>" she 
remarked.
     "<It has been a long trip,>" he replied. He wondered if he was 
butchering the language he was trying to speak.
     "<I was just curious. I've seen you come up here to the lounge at least 
six times since Los Angeles but you never get anything to drink and you 
never stay long. You don't seem very comfortable either.>"
     He sipped from the plastic cup of ice water the bartender placed at his 
elbow. **Funny, I don't remember seeing _you_ any of those times,** he 
thought.
     "<If you don't mind my asking, what brings you to London?>" She 
asked in the silence that followed.
     "<I am visiting a friend there,>" He said it like he was reciting a lesson 
out of high school English class. Hopefully she would tire of his shaky 
English and leave him alone.
     She smiled at him instead.
     "Would you be more comfortable if we conversed in a language more 
familiar?" She asked sweetly in flawless Japanese.
     That had him speechless for a moment.
     "Um, sure..." He replied.
     "Wonderful," she enthused. "My name is Anazali, but please call me 
Ana."
     "Just Ana?" He asked. **What kind of gaijin name was that?**
     "Just Ana."
     Ranma remembered his manners. "My name is Saotome Ranma."
     "May I call you Ranma, or would you prefer Mister Saotome?" Ana 
asked.
     **Mister Saotome? Nah, sounds too much like my old man.**
     "Ranma is fine," he answered.
     She leaned a little closer. He wasn't sure if she was coming on to him 
or not.
     "Are you alone?"
     "I'm traveling with my fiancée," he replied with enough pride as to 
hopefully discourage her.
     She nodded approvingly, which made him feel a little more comfortable 
about her.
     "A vacation then?" She asked.
     He thought about what Akane had said then, and how he had rebuked 
her.
     "Sort of," he replied. He felt guilty again about what he had said to 
Akane, and she read it in his voice.
     "Oh forgive me. I didn't mean to pry, but it seems as if I've done 
enough already." She excused herself and left the lounge.
     Ranma scratched his head in puzzlement.
     Akane had drifted off to sleep again, as had most of the First Class 
cabin. He resolved to at least try and go to sleep, if only to make the 
time pass quicker. He pulled a blanket over himself and settled back in 
his seat. Akane's head lolled onto his shoulder, and for the first time since 
they'd left Los Angeles did he feel at peace. Sleep found him shortly.



                              *       *       *



     Ukyo was the first to wake up. She had a terrible case of cotton mouth, 
which she quickly discovered was due to the heavy cloth gag tightly 
wrapped about her head. To her chagrin she also realized that her hands 
and feet were bound, and had since gone all pins and needles on her.
     She tried to work herself upright. Nabiki and Kuno were still out cold. 
They too were bound and gagged. She didn't have a clue where they were; 
only that it was cold, dark, and there was a very discomforting roaring 
noise outside.
     The tiny space they occupied lurched suddenly to the side. She rolled 
over Kuno and sprawled against the far wall, which was curved. The space 
leveled out, and in that moment she realized they were on board an airplane. 
Probably the luggage compartment.
     There was a rattling sound above her, and light spilled violently into the 
space. She played asleep as a voice rumbled in some thick language she 
didn't understand.
     "<They are still asleep,>" the voice grumbled.
     "<Shall we loosen their bonds? This long without adequate circulation is 
not good for the limbs.>" Another voice declared.
     "<They shall keep until we reach the dacha.>" The first replied.
     The door above Ukyo slammed shut, leaving her with only the dim light 
of a single 25 watt bulb to see by.
     She tried at her bonds. Her limbs didn't want to respond, and when they 
did she found she didn't have much strength in them. After some time she 
worked her gag loose. Now her mouth had a very garlicky taste in it, no 
doubt the side effects of whatever they had used to drug her.
     **But who the hell are They?** She wondered angrily. **And what do 
they want with us?**
     Nabiki stirred beside her. She looked up to see Ukyo straining again at 
her bonds.
     She spat out the gag.
     "Ukyo? You okay?"
     Ukyo shook her head. "No, I'm not. How about you?"
     "My arms and legs are asleep, and my head is killing me, but other than 
that I'm fine," she remarked. "Where are we?"
     "A jet I think," Ukyo replied.
     "Where are we going?"
     "I don't know. I just woke up, myself."
     Nabiki worked her way closer to Ukyo. "Any ideas on who's kidnapped 
us? What they want?"
     Ukyo shook her head. "I heard them talking, but I can't understand the 
language."
     Nabiki blew her breath out sadly. "Then I guess we wait. The one thing 
we have going for us is whoever they are, they don't want us dead."
     "Yet," Ukyo replied.
     "Well in the meantime, can you reach my hands? Maybe get them free?"
     Ukyo wiggled around to look at Nabiki's hands. Some kind of fibrous 
packing tape bound them securely at the wrists.
     "I could work at it," she said after a moment. She wasn't thrilled with the 
idea of what she would have to do to get Nabiki free, but if it meant getting 
her own limbs free...
     She began to work at the tape with her teeth. The stuff was strong, and 
didn't want to tear cleanly. It also tasted horrible.
     "Yick!" She spat.
     "Problem?" Nabiki asked.
     "I can't get this stuff to tear," Ukyo whispered hoarsely.
     Nabiki looked around the small compartment. **There's got to be 
something here we can use.**
     They searched for a few moments in vain. The door above them 
opened, catching them unawares. As the harsh light spilled down upon 
them they froze, but it was too late.
     "<It seems they have awoken,>" one of the men said.
     "<Take care of it,>" the other admonished.
     Another jet of cold liquid lanced down at them. They felt it's icy touch 
boring through their skin at once, and both gasped in shock. Then the drugs 
took effect and they settled down against each other and went to sleep.
     "<What about the third?>"
     "<He sleeps the sleep of the righteous,>" the first observed.
     "<Hit him again anyway. We can't play at favorites.>"
     He gave Kuno a small dose.
     "<Do you have another set of Diprivan injections prepared for them?>" 
The big man asked.
     "<Yes, but I want to wait on adminstering them. I don't want to spend 
the next hour monitoring their vitals because you don't feel they have been 
sedated sufficiently.>"
     "<Watch your tone, Misha,>" the big man advised.



                                Chapter Three



     Heathrow Airport was shrouded in gloom. Rain fell in a steady patter 
against the bay windows in counter melody to the roar of jets and the 
sounds of taxi and bus traffic. Londoners scuttled to and fro with their 
umbrellas, so used to the weather as to ignore it.
     Ranma was doing no such thing. The last thing he needed was to 
change into a girl right now. Unfortunately the idea of bringing an umbrella 
along had escaped them.
     "Great. Just great," he mumbled. "Now what?"
     Akane huffed something under her breath.
     Ranma was getting tired of Akane's cold shoulder. "What?" He asked 
caustically.
     She shot a harsh look at him. "I can't believe you sometimes!" She spat. 
"Can't you look on the bright side of anything?"
     Ranma made a show of observing the heavy dark clouds and the 
constant drizzle of rain. "There's a bright side here? I must've missed it 
for all the rain."
     "Ohh!" Akane replied in ire. Her fists were balled to strike.
     "Hey there you are!" Hiro called from behind them.
     They spun around to see him standing with an oversized umbrella in his 
hand. He was wearing blue jeans and a thin argyle sweater. A grey tweed 
cap was perched atop his head.
     "I was having trouble finding you. Then I heard you arguing. Japanese is 
pretty distinctive around here." He gestured around him. People were just 
starting to realize that the show was over and were clearing off.
     Hiro cracked a grin and looked them over.
     "Nice threads Saotome! Let me guess, Nabiki picked it out, right?"
     Ranma looked down at himself. "Uh, right."
     Hiro looked over Akane and smiled in approval. "You're looking radiant," 
he observed to her.
     Akane smiled in return. "Thank you Hiro. At least _someone_ noticed."
     Ranma clicked his tongue, but otherwise stayed in check.
     Hiro grabbed Akane's luggage. "Ah come on, that's just the jet-lag talking. 
We need to get you back to the house and freshened up a bit. You'll be 
feeling better in no time, I promise."
     He started off without them. Ranma and Akane hurried to catch up. 
They both huddled close to him under the umbrella. A Rolls Royce Silver 
Ghost sat in reserved parking.
     "A woulda brought the Jag', but I think we'd have to ditch the luggage 
to fit you inside." Hiro remarked. He opened the trunk and placed their 
luggage carefully inside. Then he opened the door for Akane.
     She stepped in, and Hiro quickly collared Ranma and sent him in to sit 
next to her before the martial artist could flee to the passenger side front.
     "There you go," Hiro said as he shut the door. "Play nice now."
     He settled into the driver's seat.
     "The good thing about England is that they know what side of the road 
to drive on," he said as he keyed the ignition.
     "And the bad thing?" Akane asked.
     "You can't find Japanese food here to save your life. I hope you like 
Western."
     He drove them far out of the city and into the rolling countryside. The 
rain had stopped and the sun peeked from behind the thinning clouds. After 
an hour he whipped the Silver Ghost around onto a side road in classic Hiro 
Ohata fashion, sending Akane into Ranma's lap with cry of surprise.
     "Yeah, some things haven't changed." Ranma said with a smirk. Akane 
sat up and moved back to her side of the car.
     "We're almost there," Hiro called from the front.
     A huge green meadow was on either side of the cobblestone side road. 
Lines of trees marked out the ends of the field in the distance. Two 
decaying Quonset huts rusted peacefully nearby. A faded white star upon 
a blue circle topped one of the huts.
     "What was this place?" Ranma asked.
     Hiro followed the road into a turn. "This was an airfield during the Blitz," 
he replied. "First the British used it for fighters, and then the Americans took 
over and flew B-17s and launched gliders for the invasions of France and 
Holland. Most of it's torn down now. Just those two rusty hangars and a 
couple of Horsa and Waco glider wrecks in back."
     Akane looked out the window. "That windsock looks pretty new," she 
observed. The bright orange windsock fluttered in the breeze.
     Hiro pointed to a Bell JetRanger sitting in the distance. "The place is still 
used as an airfield by the Professor. Mostly helicopters, but we also retain 
a Catalina pilot and his plane. The guy's name is Durango, and if you think 
my driving's nuts wait 'till you fly with him!"
     "I'll pass," Ranma said quickly.
     Hiro pulled up to a very large and comfortable looking three-story 
mansion. Smoke wafted from a stone chimney. Several gardeners dared to 
venture out in their galoshes and tend to a flower bed by the front door.
     "Here we are," he said to them.
     He stopped the car and helped Akane out onto the stone walkway. He 
collected all of the luggage, including Ranma's, and led them to the door. A 
servant opened it for them, and another took their coats. Ranma and Akane 
started to take off their shoes.
     Hiro shook his head.
     "Don't worry about it. Keep them on," he advised in Japanese.
     The two shrugged in apology and left their shoes on. Hiro continued into 
the foyer.
     "I'll show you to your rooms and then I have to put the car in the garage. 
Get settled in the rooms, and if you need anything, forgot anything, just let 
me know."
     He led them up a grand stairwell in the foyer, past the second floor 
landing, and turned left on the third floor. The floors were plushly carpeted, 
seeming to soak up the sounds of their footsteps as they walked. The oak 
paneled walls were hung with Impressionist paintings by Degas and 
Renoir, several works by Turner, family portraits, old coats-of-arms, 
and with assorted bits of medieval armor and weaponry.
     Their rooms were side by side with lovely southern exposures and 
large French windows to take advantage of it. A four poster bed was 
laden with quilts and large satin lined pillows. Heavy oak dressers, 
wardrobes and other furniture were tastefully arranged about the 
spacious room. The walls were papered in soft blues and cream.
     "Comfy?" Hiro asked.
     Akane nodded. "It'll do," she remarked slowly.
     "You'll get used to it soon enough," Hiro said with a laugh. "I'll be back 
in a few minutes!" He left them to themselves.
     "Well, we're here." Ranma said.
     "Yep," Akane replied.
     "It's not so bad."
     "Nope."
     Ranma looked about the room. "So uh, which room do you want?"
     Akane walked to the window and gazed out upon the meadow. 
"Whichever."
     "Well go ahead and pick one, I'll take whichever one you don't want."
     "This is fine," she replied, still looking out the window.
     He waited a few minutes, deciding if he should interrupt her again. 
     "Akane?"
     "Yes?"
     "Um, are we on speaking terms again?"
     "Maybe."
     Ranma sighed. The jet-lag was beginning to show on him. "Okay. I'll go 
and unpack I guess."
     He left her without another word and took his luggage to the other room, 
which was done in dark reds and golds. He would have figured Akane for 
choosing this room instead of the more sedate one she now occupied. He 
opened his suitcases and began unpacking his things. Kasumi had packed 
just about everything he owned, which wasn't much when you thought 
about it. She had even packed his old camouflage jacket, which he had 
taken to wearing even after his discharge because it had grown on him.
     **She must have remembered me always wearing it around the house,** 
he mused.
     He decided to change out of his suit. It might have looked good on him, 
but he just didn't feel right wearing it. It wasn't him. He set his expensive 
hand tailored clothes upon several hangers in the wardrobe and pulled on a 
green shirt and baggy black trousers. His Italian shoes found a home in a 
dresser drawer and his black slippers now adorned his feet -even if they 
were a bit worn out.
     He looked at the jacket again. He laughed to himself as he ran his 
fingers along the neat stitches of olive drab thread where Kasumi had 
thoughtfully mended the bullet hole tear on his left sleeve and the little 
rents where shrubs and shrapnel had cut close. His corporal's stripes 
were already faded on his sleeve as was his name tag embroidered 
above the breast pocket.
     **What the heck...** he thought. He put the jacket on. The place felt 
like home already.
     Hiro returned then and looked him over.
     "I was gonna suggest a change of clothes, but it seems you've second-
guessed me."
     Ranma brushed at his jacket. "Yeah, that suit was starting to bother me."
     "That's okay. This place is pretty casual most of the time. The only time 
you have to be dressed up is dinner. The Professor's pretty strict about that."
     "So when are we gonna see the Professor?" Ranma asked. "I was hoping 
we could get this cure taken care of."
     Hiro gave him a 'thumbs up'. "Don't you worry my friend, you're in good 
hands."
     "So what's he going to do?"
     Hiro shrugged. "I have no idea." He started out the door to collect Akane. 
Ranma followed after him.
     Akane had changed as well. She was wearing a floral print dress and 
sandals. It seemed a little strange to be wearing shoes in the house, but she 
figured she could get used to it.
     She fell in line with Hiro and Ranma, noting how the two were 
unconsciously in step with each other as they walked.
     "The Professor's waiting to meet you in the study. He'll want to ask you 
a few more questions like he did in Japan, maybe run a few simple medical 
tests, that kind of thing." Hiro said to them.
     Professor McFogg, Ferguson, Katy Price and Mr. Clay were waiting in 
the study. Old maps, game trophies, and wildlife paintings filled the dark oak 
paneled walls. One entire wall was given over to books, from oak floor to 
paneled ceiling. Persian rugs were placed beneath tables and desks and a 
carved ivory and glass hookah from India sat in the corner.
     The Professor and his company stood politely in greeting for them.
     "<Ah, our guests have arrived.>" McFogg said warmly. "<Welcome to 
my home! I trust you had as pleasant a trip as can be had from Tokyo?>"
     They both bowed politely.
     McFogg offered them a comfy black leather loveseat to sit upon. 
"<Please sit and make yourselves comfortable. I thought we should take 
a light lunch in the study and discuss your problem together.>"
     They sat down next to each other, and Hiro went off to fetch the 
servants.
     Ferguson wasted no time in speaking.
     "<You say that you're having nightmares?>" He asked.
     "<Both of us,>" Ranma answered.
     "<The same nightmares at the same time,>" Akane added.
     Ferguson's brow crinkled in thought. Clay seemed to nod knowingly.
     "<Do you dream of any places you've never been?>" Clay asked.
     Katy clucked something under her breath at this.
     "<Yes,>" they replied in unison.
     "<Any places you can remember?>"
     Ranma didn't seem to, but Akane was quick to reply.
     "<I remember France. The Eiffel Tower actually. The other places didn't 
seem very familiar.>"
     Clay nodded again.
     "<Interesting,>" Ferguson noted. "<The area around the Eiffel Tower 
_has_ been classified as an active site. Three lines converge there.>" He 
consulted a laptop computer. "<No, I was wrong, _five_ lines converge 
there.>"
     "<That's why they built it where they did,>" Clay reminded him. Katy 
rolled her eyes.
     "<What's all this about 'lines'?>" Ranma asked. "<What kind of 'lines'?>"
     McFogg took a puff from his pipe. "<The Earth is criss-crossed with 
lines of electromagnetic energy. We don't quite understand why these 
lines appear; in fact the whole idea clashes with the accepted theories 
of the Earth's electromagnetism as generated by the motion of it's molten 
internals.>"
     "<Is that what happened to us?>" Akane asked. "<We stepped into the 
middle of a bunch of these lines?>"
     "<These lines of force can appear and disappear at intervals,>" Ferguson 
said. "<Part of what we're doing is mapping them out for study. To see if we 
can determine a pattern from them and perhaps answer the questions 
surrounding their existence. Apparently you and your fiancé were at the 
junction of six lines when they appeared.>"
     "<So what happened to us? Our doctor examined us and found our 
'ki's were out of balance. In opposite respects to each other too.>" Ranma 
said.
     Ferguson and Katy gave him dumb looks. Only Clay and McFogg 
seemed to understand. Clay seemed to squint his eyes a little as he looked at 
them.
     "<That's odd,>" McFogg remarked. "<Ferguson, did you scan them with 
a Kirlian unit after the event?>"
     "<Yes Professor. It showed nothing abnormal.>" Ferguson replied.
     "<Well go fetch one and let's have another look,>" McFogg told him.
     "<Excuse me Professor, but what does this have to do with 'ki', 
whatever that is, being 'out of balance'?>" Katy asked.
     McFogg took another puff. "<Ki is a word that describes the 'energy' 
that flows through a person. Eastern thought has it that the body is made of 
'energy', 'blood', and 'flesh'. The Greeks had similar views, only they 
referred to a 'pneuma' that was more vapor-like that flowed through the 
body.>"
      "<And this means _what_ to a rational twentieth century scientist?>" 
Katy asked. 
     **She may prove to be a poor choice for this team after all,** McFogg 
sighed in his mind.
     "<Ki can also be thought of as the intrinsic electromagnetic fields that 
radiate from all living things as detected by the Kirlian Aura Imaging 
Device.>" McFogg said evenly. "<If poor old Kirlian can ever perfect 
the thing, it could be used as a diagnostic tool in medicine; as subtle 
changes in a person's 'aura' often manifest before disease can be clinically 
detected.>"
     Ferguson returned with a portable Kirlian unit inside a metal case. It was 
a large black box with padded handles on either side. The bottom was 
actually a sensitive black mylar film with a clear plastic protective cover. A 
full color LCD display was on top, along with an array of touch-sensitive 
controls. Russian words adorned the side of the box.
     He held the bottom of the box up towards Ranma and Akane. The thing 
made a faint buzzing sound as he passed it over them. He studied the images 
on the display, shaking his head in frustration.
     "<Same as before Professor. I can't find any abnormalities with them.>"
     McFogg stroked at his beard. "<Puzzling...>" He said.
     Clay stood from his chair. "<Did your doctor mention any method of 
treatment for correcting this imbalance?>" He asked them.
     Ranma and Akane looked at each other.
     "<Sort of; he said we had to stay close to each other.>" Ranma replied.
     "<And if we wanted to be able to sleep without nightmares he said we 
had to be touching if possible.>" Akane added shyly.
     "<And this has been successful?>" Clay asked.
     "<Yeah, so far.>" Ranma answered.
     Clay motioned for Ranma to stand up. "<Stand a few meters apart from 
Akane for just a moment.>"
     Ranma did so.
     "<Try it again, Ferg.>" Clay said.
     Ferguson ran the Kirlian over Akane.
     "<I'll be damned,>" he said in soft surprise. "<Her aura's a bloody 
mess!>"
     "<Now try Mister Saotome.>" Clay said.
     Ferguson scanned Ranma.
     "<It's the same thing in reverse!>" He cried.
     Clay motioned for Ranma to join Akane again.
     "<Now look at them together again.>"
     Ferguson scanned them as they sat together nervously on the loveseat.
     "<Everything looks good now. Unbelievable... That must have been 
why we missed it in Tokyo; they were standing next to each other when I 
scanned them.>"
     Clay folded his arms across his chest. "<Precisely. Their imbalances are 
complementary to each other. In close proximity they are rectified, but 
separate them and they will return to their disordered states.>"
     "<Well done Mister Clay!>" McFogg enthused.
     Ranma didn't share his enthusiasm. "<So what do we have to do for a 
cure?>" He asked.
     They were silent for a moment.
     "<Well there are some other tests we shall have to perform first to refine 
our data, and to be honest this sort of thing hasn't happened before to my 
recollection.>" McFogg began.
     "<In other words you don't know,>" Ranma interjected.
     **I have to admit the boy is right about that,** McFogg thought sadly.
     "<That is true, however I think your best chance of recovery is here. I 
am confident that we can help you. Though it may take some time.>" 
     "<How much time?>" Ranma asked.
     "<To be honest, I can't say with any measure of certainty.>" McFogg 
admitted.
     "<Then the sooner we start on these tests of yours, the better.>" Ranma 
said tersely.
     "<I agree,>" Clay added. "<To delay may cost us valuable clues.>"
     Hiro came in with the servants and with lunch. He had a tray full of iced 
tea glasses, which he maneuvered towards Ranma and Akane. He wasn't 
watching where he was going however, and tripped over Akane's purse 
lying on the floor next to the loveseat.
     Akane was just a little faster on her feet than Ranma, who was studying 
Ferguson's Kirlian with mixed emotions. Thus she was spared the deluge of 
iced tea that came for them. Ranma of course wasn't as fortunate.
     Ranma-chan cried out in anguish as the last of the tea splashed over her. 
She screamed upright trying to brush the ice cubes off her chest and keep 
the tea from soaking into her clothes. Sopping wet long red bangs spilled 
over her eyes where short black hair had once been.
     "Yeeeoooowwwwthat'scold!!!!" She spluttered in protest.
     With the exception of Akane, everyone in the room was staring at her 
in stupefied amazement.
     Hiro picked himself up off the floor. He looked at Ranma-chan, who 
was soaking wet and fuming, then to the others, who were wide-eyed in 
disbelief.
     "<Um, did I forget to mention something to you about Ranma?>" He 
asked weakly.



                                Chapter Four



     Ukyo and Nabiki stirred to life in the belly of the jet. The roar of the 
engines was gone, replaced by an unsettling quiet. Tatewaki Kuno was 
holding them both in a smothering embrace.
     "Oh Pig-Tailed Girl..." he mumbled in semi-consciousness. He 
squeezed Ukyo.
     "Oh lovely Akane..." he continued. Nabiki received a squeeze with 
the other arm.
     They both looked at each other with reddened eyes and winced.
     "Whoever shall I choose...?" Kuno asked himself quietly.
     Ukyo and Nabiki each clouted him on the head.
     "Wake up you idiot!" Ukyo cried.
     "And let go of us!" Nabiki added.
     Kuno raised his bruised head from the floor. He blinked twice, taking in 
the measure and scope of the compartment.
     "What is this place? What have they done with Akane and the Pig-
Tailed Girl?"
     Ukyo and Nabiki both groaned and slumped to the floor. Their heads 
ached and their mouths were full of a bitter garlic taste. Their hands and 
feet throbbed, and it was then that they noticed their bonds were gone.
     Kuno sat upright. If he felt any of the after effects of the drugs used 
on him, it was not apparent. He stretched out his arms and looked about 
the compartment again.
     "I did not realize your eatery had a basement," he remarked to Ukyo.
     "It doesn't," she muttered. Her head was turning circles.
     "Then where, pray tell, are we?" He asked.
     Nabiki rubbed at her hands and shot him an angry look. "Don't you 
remember anything before we went down? Those two foreigners that 
walked into the shop and sprayed us with that liquid ice stuff?"
     "I do not recall," Kuno replied solemnly.
     The top hatch opened and bright light avalanched down upon them. All 
three hissed in shock and pain and squinted their eyes shut.
     "You know, _those_ guys?" Nabiki groused, jerking a thumb up to the 
two men who peered down in amusement at them.
     "Come out of there slowly, one at a time." One of the men said in a 
gruff, terribly accented Japanese.
     Kuno went first, as he was the most ambulatory of the three. He was 
pulled up out of the compartment and sent roughly against a passenger seat. 
A man wearing rust colored leather slapped a pair of shiny steel manacles 
on his hands and sent him out the door. Two more men in weather-stained 
coveralls took him at the door and marched him down the boarding ladder.
     Ukyo and Nabiki had to be carried. Misha and Dmitri handed them off 
to the men in the coveralls, who placed them in an olive drab six by six 
truck. Two men armed with AK-74s sat inside the truck bed and watched 
them idly. Russian voices barked from a radio set in the truck cab.
     The sky was clear and blue, with just a few fat clouds rolling along at 
high altitude. The air was cool and smelled of the sea. A distant line of 
verdant hills was dotted with small cottages. The plaintive cry of seagulls 
rent the air. 
     "Any idea where we are?" Ukyo asked weakly.
     "Wherever we are, it's not Japan," Nabiki replied.
     "Tyerih skazhyesh' neechevo heh!!" One of the armed men shouted. 
They didn't understand the words, but when emphasized with the muzzle 
of a rifle in their faces, the meaning was quite clear. Even Kuno kept still, 
though his rage seethed from his pores.
     Misha and Dmitri climbed into the back of the truck. The man in the rust 
colored leather joined them a moment later, having thrown the smoldering 
remains of his cigarette butt onto the macadam with a casual flick of his 
wrist. The three exchanged a few pleasantries with the two rifle armed men, 
who laughed at some unknown joke.
     The six by six rumbled to life and rolled out along the tarmac. It took an 
abrupt left onto the grass and fishtailed a little before accelerating. Ukyo and 
Nabiki watched the small twin-engined jet as they left it behind. A white, 
blue, and red flag was painted on the tail.



                               *       *       *



     Ivan Tarchenko sat out on the porch of the dacha in a canvas backed 
chair. He had just poured himself a stiff cup of tea. For a moment he 
contemplated something stronger, perhaps a shot or two of Stolichnaya -the 
good stuff, not the cheap leavings they exported to the rest of the world. He 
decided to wait until after his business was through.
     The six by six rumbled up the hill. Its diesel engine chugged noisily as 
the driver downshifted to scale the steep slope. He could already make out 
the heavy brow and dark forelocks of Fyodor in the passenger seat..
     **I begin to realize that Grigory was right about him. His handling of 
this affair has been needlessly blunt. Still, the man has his uses...**
     The truck stopped along an even grade of the road next to a Zil four-
door sedan and a Range Rover. Misha and Dmitri jumped out of the back 
and pulled Kuno, Ukyo and Nabiki with them. The two rifle armed men 
and the leather clad man followed after. Fyodor stepped down from the 
passenger side of the cab all scowls as usual.
     "<What did you bring me, Fyodor Gennadiyvich?>" Tarchenko called 
in a friendly voice.
     Fyodor grunted something under his breath.
     "<I hope they were worth the trouble and expense,>" Tarchenko added 
in a tone that was anything but friendly. "<Take them inside. I shall wait for 
your report out here.>"
     Fyodor gestured to the three prisoners. "<Shall I start on them now, or 
do you wish to be present?>"
     Tarchenko shook his head. "<Secure them, but leave them be for the 
moment. Let them get a sense of appreciation for their predicament first. In 
the meantime I shall wait for your report.>"
     Fyodor grunted in the affirmative and barked orders to his men. Ukyo, 
Nabiki, and Kuno were pushed into the front door of the dacha at gun point. 
They were confined in a small upstairs closet, the attic of the A-frame dacha.
     "Now what?" Ukyo asked. There was more than a little fear in her voice.
     Nabiki swallowed hard before replying. "I don't know... I guess they're 
going to interrogate us."
     "About what? We haven't done anything!" Ukyo protested.
     "They think we know something important," Nabiki said. 
     Kuno sat in silence, pondering.


     "<Explain yourself Fyodor,>" Tarchenko ordered.
     Fyodor popped his knuckles loudly before speaking.
     "<I was conducting the investigation of McFogg's activities in Tokyo, 
using our locally deployed field agents. Based on their reports, we 
concluded that two people may have come into direct contact with the 
Event as it unfolded. It is speculated that they may be exhibiting the initial 
stages of Doctor Casimir's Wayfinder.>" 
     This had Tarchenko's attention.
     "<You are certain?>" He asked quickly.
     "<They were said to be experiencing shared dreams. These were place 
dreams, places they had never been. A classic precognitive state if taken in 
context.>"
     Tarchenko nodded in agreement.
     "<And you have brought them to me. Well done Fyodor, I have 
misjudged you.>"
     Fyodor growled uneasily. "<I have not, Ivan Mikhailyvich.>"
     "<Oh? Then who are these?>"
     "<The short haired woman is a sister to one of the two. The long haired 
woman is a confidant. The man has no relevance other than being with 
them at the wrong time.>"
     "<Why did you move on these three and not the Wayfinders?>"
     "<They left the country, Ivan Mikhailyvich. We were not given 
authorization to act soon enough by the Station Chief for Tokyo. It was 
hoped that the two women would be able to provide information on the 
whereabouts of the Wayfinders.>"
     Tarchenko found himself wishing for some of that vodka. He finished 
his now tepid cup of tea and sat back in thought. Fyodor sat in silence 
awaiting a reply.
     "<This operation was clumsy and heavy-handed, Fyodor. You 
understand that don't you?>"
     Fyodor looked down at the table. "<Yes Comrade Tarchenko, I 
understand. I am not pleased with my performance either.>"
     "<Given the circumstances you did the best you could,>" Tarchenko 
soothed. "<We shall see what we can learn from them. My only regret is 
in the needless waste of life this expedition has incurred.>"
     Fyodor nodded in understanding.
     Tarchenko continued. "<Make it quick for them. I see no reason to 
prolong their suffering beyond that which is required for questioning. 
Dispose of their remains as you see fit, but ensure they will never be found. 
For them to be reported as missing in Japan and their subsequent discovery 
here would be quite an embarrassment for our government. And of course 
this must be kept from Doctor Casimir. You know he does not approve of 
such measures.>"
     Fyodor nodded again. "<I understand.>"
     Tarchenko lit up a thick Turkish cigarette. He had become quite fond of 
them during his stay in Istanbul. Heavy clouds of blue smoke wafted over 
his head, lending him an age despite his youthful appearance.
     "<Tell me of these two Wayfinders. Perhaps we can find them again.>"
     "<They are both approximately nineteen years old. A male and a 
female. I believe they are betrothed to each other. The man is a martial 
artist, the woman a student. Their names are Ranma Saotome and Akane 
Tendo.>" He stumbled over the names as he said them. "<I have several 
surveillance photos of them.>"
     Fyodor handed Tarchenko a small pouch. Tarchenko studied a series of 
photographs of Ranma and Akane. Some of them were grainy and obviously 
taken through a low-light camera.
     "<Quite a handsome fellow for a Japanese,>" Tarchenko remarked. 
"<The pig tail should ease in identifying him... The woman is also quite 
attractive. He's a lucky man to be engaged to this one... Ensure copies of 
these are made available for our operatives in Europe and the United 
States.>"
     "<Yes Comrade Tarchenko,>" Fyodor affirmed. "<Shall we interrogate 
them now?>"
     Tarchenko finished his cigarette in one huge drag, blowing out a great 
blue cloud of smoke as he exhaled.
     "<Yes. To delay would only cost us. I shall attend the interrogation.>"



                               *       *       *



     "<This is quite extraordinary!>" McFogg exclaimed.
     Ranma-chan buried her face in her hand. Akane giggled quietly to herself.
     "<Sorry Professor,>" Hiro apologized. "<I would have told you, but I 
know Saotome is trying to keep his curse a secret from the world at large.>"
     "It doesn't seem to be working," Ranma-chan muttered.
     Katy Price had nearly passed out from shock. Ferguson was busy 
running the Kirlian unit across Ranma-chan, trying to explain what he'd just 
seen. Only Clay seemed unperturbed.
     Ferguson looked a little closer at Ranma-chan. She began to feel a little 
nervous under his gaze.
     Suddenly it hit him.
     "<Hey! I remember you!>" He cried.
     Ranma-chan began to turn red.
     Ferguson continued. "<Yeah, I bloody well remember you! You were 
dressed up in this teeny little bathing suit and hitting on me!>"
     "<I was not!>" Ranma-chan protested.
     "What?!" Akane cried.
     Ranma-chan cast a nervous glance towards Akane. "Nabiki put me up 
to it!" She cried in explanation. "She wanted me to find out what they were 
doing in Nerima!"
     "Oh sure, blame my sister for it!" Akane retorted.
     "Honest! It's true!" Ranma-chan cried. "You can ask her tonight when 
we call home!"
     "I will!"
     McFogg looked Ranma-chan over a bit more closely. "<'Curse' you 
say, Ohata?>"
     "<Yes Professor,>" Hiro replied.
     McFogg stepped back from Ranma-chan. "<Could you explain this 
'curse' to me please?>"
     Ranma-chan realized she wasn't going to be able to get around this one.
     "<Um...Well I happened to fall into this cursed spring in China. There 
are over a hundred of these springs at this place called Jusenkyo, and 
each of them has it's own curse. Whoever falls in a spring takes the form 
of whatever drowned there a long time ago. I got lucky enough to fall into 
the 'Spring of Drowned Girl'. Now every time I get hit with cold water I 
turn into a girl.>"
     McFogg nodded slowly as he listened to Ranma-chan's words. "<And 
how do you reverse this effect, or does it wear off with time?>"
     "<Hot water,>" Akane supplied.
     Ferguson smacked his head with his hand. "<Hot and cold gender, eh? 
It's incredible. If I hadn't seen it myself I'd never believe it. Hell, you're a 
full two heads shorter than you were before -there's no way you could fake 
something like that in front of us.>"
     **To say nothing of that outstanding bosom of yours!** He thought 
with a smile.
     McFogg turned to Clay. "<Ever heard of something like this?>"
     "<Transformative magic has been speculated, but I've never seen it in 
the flesh.>" Clay responded.
     "<Well I have heard of such a thing,>" McFogg said abruptly. "<My 
father mentioned it once before the War. I wish I could remember more 
of what he said, but back then I thought he was a bit daft in the head.>"
     "<Magic?>" Katy cried. "<I can't believe I heard you use that word! I 
thought we were scientists.>"
     McFogg leveled a hard-eyed stare at her. "<Do you have a rational 
explanation for what you have just witnessed?>"
     "<N-No...>" She stammered.
     McFogg blew a smoke ring with his pipe. "<Then for all practical 
purposes it's magic. Accept it and things will be much easier for you... 
Perhaps you should go and lie down for awhile anyway. You look pale.>"
     Katy nodded blithely and turned for the door.
     Ferguson was still looking at Ranma-chan. "<I wonder, are you as 
heavy now as a female as you are when you're male? You look like you've 
lost thirty kilos easy.>"
     Ranma-chan gestured to herself. "<I'm fifty kilos soaking wet,>" she 
said, trying to make a joke of her last part. "Unlike _some_ females I 
could mention," She added in Japanese for Akane's benefit. Akane stuck 
her tongue out at her in reply.
     Ferguson blinked in disbelief. "<Really? I mean, mass isn't conserved? 
How is that possible?>"
     Ranma-chan shrugged. "<I have no idea.>"
     Ferguson thought a moment. "<Perhaps mass is converted to energy and 
carried off in some discrete form. Neutrinos maybe.>" 
     "<So how does he regain his mass when he changes back?>" Clay asked 
offhand. "<It's a fascinating paradox, but I seriously doubt you'll find the 
mechanism for it without a few billion Pounds worth of hardware and 
laboratory space, so let's instead focus on the problem at hand: their 
unbalanced ki's.>"
     "<Well if this happened because they were in the middle of a nexus, 
couldn't they just stand in the next one we're looking for?>" Hiro asked.
     "<Sounds reasonable to me,>" Akane said.
     "<That may not work so easily,>" McFogg cautioned. "<We don't 
understand the mechanisms behind your impairment. I personally have 
stood in the center of an active nexus on several occasions and suffered 
no ill effects.>"
     "<Same here,>" Ferguson added.
     Ranma-chan shook her head in disbelief. "<So what are we going to 
do?>"
     "<We'll need to run some tests using more precise instruments than this 
portable Kirlian for starters,>" Ferguson declared. "<Plus a full physical 
workup, EEG, PET scan, et cetera.>"
     "<And how long will this take?>" Ranma-chan asked.
     Ferguson did some quick calculations. "<About a week to collect the 
data, another to collate and analyze, no guarantee we can find anything 
useful though. As Clay could tell you, the world of the paranormal is 
enigmatic to say the least.>"
     McFogg puffed on his pipe as Ferguson's words sunk in with Ranma 
and Akane.
     "<We'll do the best we can, but it's going to take some time.>" He 
offered at length.



                               Chapter Five



     Ukyo was pulled upright and half dragged downstairs. The huge man 
they called Fyodor was standing before her like a mountain, hard eyes 
focused intently on her. There wasn't the slightest hint of mercy or pity in 
those dark orbs.
     The man in the rust colored leathers was preparing an injection. Ukyo 
didn't need any help to guess what it was for. The rifle thugs stood in the 
corner and made small talk.
     A handsome man in his late twenties sat in a comfortable chair and 
drank tea from a crystal and silver cup. He appraised her with an aloof 
glance before returning his attention to the man with the syringe. She 
noticed the soft music playing behind the man from an old phonograph. 
She thought it might be Stravinsky, but the last time she had listened to 
western classical music was high school and an eternity ago.
     There was no mistaking her chosen seat. It was a simple steel tube 
frame chair with an array of strapping and shackles bolted to it. Function 
dictated form, and this chair's function was obvious enough.
     It wasn't the sight of the men that made her scream. It wasn't even 
the ghastly chair. It was the large sheet of clear plastic someone had 
thoughtfully placed beneath the chair that finally opened her lips in terror.
     They let her scream for several moments before intervening. She 
thrashed in their iron grips as they strapped her down to the hideous chair 
and secured her restraints. The chair was heavier than it looked, she 
couldn't move it despite her most valiant struggles.
     They watched her impassively as she struggled. The one named Dmitri 
fondled Kuno's fine long sword. Their nonchalance was agonizing, and only 
reinforced her sense of hopelessness. She slumped in the chair, resigned to 
her fate.
     "<You may proceed, Anatole.>" Tarchenko directed.
     The man in the rust colored leathers nodded and squeezed a little of the 
clear solution from the syringe to clear it of any air bubbles. He was terribly 
thorough, even swabbing her arm with alcohol prior to inserting the needle. 
Ice began to flow through her veins, and at once a metallic taste came 
to her thickening tongue.
     "<It won't be a long wait,>" Anatole announced. 
     Ukyo's head began to spin slowly. Her fragile equilibrium shifted further 
off-kilter and sounds came in distorted waves. Stravinsky was now a 
tortured drone in her ears, but it was the only thing she could register with 
her captors remaining silent.
     She wanted to scream again, but she couldn't remember how.


     Nabiki's blood ran cold at Ukyo's first screams of terror. She didn't 
want to know what it was that had made her scream, but at the same time 
her curiosity was overwhelming. She could hear the sounds of her struggle, 
the grunts of exertion from the men as they secured her to the chair. She 
could hear the straps and buckles snapping into place.
     "Oh gods..." Nabiki pleaded in a hushed whisper. Her eyes stung with 
tears at the thought of what was waiting for Ukyo. What was waiting for 
herself.
     Kuno closed his eyes and bowed his head.
     "Disgusting cowards," he grunted. "That they should stoop to such base 
means upon fair Ukyo only stokes my hatred of them."
     Nabiki looked around the tiny attic yet again for something they could 
use to escape. There was nothing. Nothing but themselves.
     "What are we going to do?" She asked plaintively.
     Kuno kept his eyes closed. Nabiki could see his jawline tighten and 
nearly feel the tension in his body.
     "I swear this oath with my very life: I shall visit upon them tenfold that 
which they inflict upon fair Ukyo, and twentyfold that which they do to 
you Nabiki Tendo."


     "<Make this as dramatic as possible Anatole, for the benefit of the 
others upstairs. I do not think that this one will be able to tell us much, 
but her performance will perhaps loosen the other woman's tongue.>" 
Tarchenko said evenly.
     "<Yes Comrade Tarchenko.>" Anatole replied. He checked Ukyo's 
pulse and respirations. Satisfied, he examined her motor reflexes and her 
pupil dilation.
     "<She is ready,>" Anatole declared.
     "<Proceed,>" Tarchenko ordered.
     Anatole moved in close to Ukyo's bloodshot eyes. They could hardly 
track him as he moved side to side in front of her.
     "<I'm employing an agent that renders the subject extremely vulnerable 
to suggestion. Many extremes of sensory input may be imposed with little 
stimulation.>" He began as if he was back in Moscow instructing KGB 
recruits. Tarchenko found the subject of torture distasteful, and Anatole's 
clinical distancing of himself from it appalling, but let him continue. They 
had an audience upstairs, and the audience was listening.
     He pulled a cigarette lighter from his jacket pocket.
     "<For example...>"
     He held the flame at least a foot from Ukyo's bare arm. Her cloudy 
eyes watched it intently. Her lips pursed as if to say something.
     "This flame is very hot," he informed her in Japanese. "So hot that it is 
burning you right this moment."
     Ukyo stiffened in the chair. She shut her eyes tight and tried not to 
make a sound. A strangled whimper escaped her lips nonetheless.
     "It is growing hotter and hotter," Anatole said in a calm even voice. "It 
is so hot that you can feel your skin blistering. Your skin is burning."
     Ukyo stifled another scream. Tarchenko watched in horrified fascination 
as blisters appeared on her arm.
     "<The power of suggestion is an amazing thing,>" Anatole said, and 
snuffed the lighter with a click of the lid. "The heat is gone," he said to her, 
and she relaxed just a bit.
     "What do you want to know?" Ukyo asked. She would tell them 
anything to get this over with. She knew death awaited her at the end of 
the interview, but death was a release from torture.
     Anatole chuckled. "I have no questions for you yet."
     Ukyo let out a single sob and steeled herself for what would come next. 
The pain had focused her inner conscious mind even if her body wasn't 
responding like she wished.
     Anatole studied her for a moment. "<Unfortunately endorphins and 
adrenaline will begin to block out the effects of the drug, but as they break 
down in the body she will return to her suggestive state. I can give her an 
additional dose to counter these negative effects, but her body mass is low 
and I cannot give her much more. We may have to wait a few minutes 
before proceeding.>"
     "<We have the time,>" Tarchenko informed him. "<In any event the 
longer this session lasts, the shorter the next one will be.>"


     **What are they doing to her?!** Nabiki pleaded in her mind. **What 
do they want from us?**
     Kuno's silence was almost as terrible as Ukyo's cries. The kendoist 
hadn't moved a muscle since he made his oath.
     **I might just go insane if I have to listen to this any more,** she 
thought bitterly.


     "The needles are gone," Anatole said in that calm measured voice.
     Ukyo ceased thrashing in her chair. Tiny beads of red dotted her arms 
and face where her sweat glands had literally passed blood. The effect of 
passing blood had also made her skin hypersensitive, and even the motion 
of air across her was agonizing.
     Anatole wished to demonstrate this point to the others. He touched her 
cheek lightly with his finger tip. She recoiled as if she had been slapped.
     "<Do you wish to begin the interrogation, or shall I continue?>" He 
asked. He had just about run out of techniques he wished to demonstrate 
in the last hour. Her stamina was remarkable, he'd seen trained agents 
crumble in half the time.
     "<How long does the drug last?>" Tarchenko asked. He had listened 
to Nabiki cry out for them to show Ukyo mercy for the last ten minutes. 
He was certain she was aware of what awaited her when her time came, 
but he also wanted to build up the psychological attack to its utmost 
before he started on her.
     "<The drug's effects should be wearing off, but at this point the subject 
has been so conditioned by trauma that the drugs are in fact no longer 
necessary to produce results,>" Anatole explained.
     "<Very well, begin the interrogation, but prompt her to scream every 
now and then for the sake of our two remaining subjects,>" Tarchenko 
directed.


     The silence was the worst part.
     Nabiki hadn't heard anything for at least ten minutes, only the scratchy 
sound of Stravinsky playing on a phonograph somewhere below.
     When Ukyo screamed in agony, it was almost a relief.
     "It is time," Kuno whispered. "My kingdom for a sword."
     The sounds of heavy footsteps on the stairs brought her heart up into 
her throat. For a guilty moment she found herself wishing that Kuno would 
be next. The door opened, and Fyodor was there glowering evilly for them. 
Misha and Dmitri stepped forward to collect Nabiki.
     "No!" She cried. "I'll talk, I swear it!"
     "You'll sing sweetly enough," Fyodor menaced.
     Kuno uttered a growl so low and guttural that they missed it for what 
it was.
     Misha took hold of Nabiki while Dmitri removed her handcuffs. They 
would need her uncuffed in order to strap her into the chair. She thrashed 
as soundly as Ukyo had, to the same effect.
     Even as Nabiki alternately pleaded with and cursed them, the sound of 
Kuno snapping his manacles from behind his back was like a gunshot.
     Dmitri stopped cold, not believing his eyes. Kuno brought both hands 
down upon the man's collar bones with crushing force. The man made a 
strangled cry before dropping to his knees.
     Kuno wasted no time. He took back his sword from Dmitri's side and 
unsheathed it in a flash of cold light. Misha was cut down in an instant, 
screaming more in surprise than in pain. Blood flowed freely from the 
diagonal slash that nearly halved him. He died with that part agonal, part 
stupefied countenance forever graven on his face.
     "Feel the wrath of Blue Thunder!" Kuno cried at the top of his lungs.
     Fyodor was thrown off-balance by little Nabiki, who hadn't grown up 
in a martial arts dojo and not learned something about hand to hand. The 
big Ukrainian stumbled down the stairs with Kuno hot after him. The 
sounds of rifle bolts being jacked into place mingled with the cries of 
surprise below.
     Fyodor threw himself over the banister in time to avoid a burst of 
Kalashnikov fire from one of the thugs. He landed badly and was knocked 
unconscious. 5.45mm jacketed-lead hollowpoints chewed into the walls 
spitting sawdust and paint chips into Kuno's face as he reached the top of 
the landing. He leaped down the stairs undaunted, his sword glittering.
     The thug caught a belly full of tempered steel a moment later, and then 
all hell really broke loose.
     Tarchenko was jumping up and over his chair to reach the kitchen. He 
kept his Tokarev 9mm in his coat pocket there. Anatole was frozen in mid-
decision. The prepared syrette that would mercifully end Ukyo's life was 
hanging in his limp hand. Ukyo was unconscious in the chair. The roar of 
the mortally wounded thug's Kalashnikov filled the blood-stained air as he 
burned the remainder of the magazine into the ceiling.
     The second thug maneuvered around Anatole for a clear shot at Kuno. 
He shouted a warning and fired a short burst to get their attention. Nabiki 
grabbed a poker from the fireplace and threw it at the thug.
     "Look out Kuno-baby!" She cried. 
     Her cast succeeded in spoiling the man's aim.
     Kuno was all grace and form. He maneuvered his blade past the thug's 
guard with lightning speed, taking the man's hands off in one stroke. The 
man's cry pierced the ultrasonic. More of the red red krovy filled the 
scream rent air. Even as he removed the thug's hands he was spinning 
about to deliver the stroke he had been visualizing for the last hour of 
Ukyo's torture.
     Anatole had only just broken free of the paralysis that gripped him. 
He moved the syrette towards Ukyo's arm. 
     "Hold, coward!" Kuno cried.
     Anatole froze again.
     Kuno raised his blade high overhead.
     "I visit my wrath upon thee!" Kuno bellowed. "My oath fulfilled! THE 
HUNDRED BLOWS!!!"
     He brought down his sword in a flash of strokes so fast as to be a 
glitter of cold light. Wound upon wound opened in Anatole's flesh, too fast 
for blood to spurt there came another rent. The air itself was charged with 
Kuno's fury, and Nabiki staggered backwards witnessing the ferocity of 
his attack.
     What was once Anatole Kamarov collapsed in upon itself and fell with 
a horrible wet sound to pool upon the plastic sheet on the floor.
     Kuno looked about the room. The only sounds in the room were 
Nabiki's panting breaths and the liquid noises coming from Anatole's 
remains. The man whose hands he had removed had collapsed and died 
of hypovolemic shock within seconds of his maiming.  Stravinsky had 
stopped playing when Tarchenko made his hasty escape; having knocked 
the turntable over in his exodus.
     He looked over his shoulder to see if Nabiki was unharmed.
     "Nabiki Tendo? Art thou whole?" He asked her.
     She tried to collect herself against the violence she had been party to. 
It was too much. Without a word she threw herself into Kuno's arms 
and wept.
     Kuno put an arm about her and looked stoically out of the dacha's large 
front window. Nabiki wept for a little while. Kuno remained silent, having 
returned his gaze to Ukyo.
     "Nabiki, hold thy tears for another time. We must look to Ukyo." He 
said calmly.
     Nabiki shuddered once in his cool embrace and wiped away her tears. 
She took a stuttering breath and let it out in a rush.
     "I'm sorry Kuno...You're right." She managed.
     "There is no need to apologize Nabiki Tendo. Your courage has spoken 
for itself in our victory this day."
     Nabiki nodded and moved away from him. Taking care to avert her 
gaze from Anatole's grisly remains, she set about removing Ukyo's bonds. 
The young woman was alive, and aside from some burns on her arm and 
a smear of blood tinctured sweat on her skin she was unharmed. Most of 
Anatole's work was done in the victim's mind.
     "We should find her a doctor," Nabiki said to Kuno. "She's alive, but 
we don't know what they've done to her."
     "Finding a leech sympathetic to our plight in this hinterland may be 
perilous of itself," Kuno observed. "But in truth we cannot remain here. 
There is one member of this evil coven that yet lives. I saw him flee like 
the base coward he is during our melee."
     Kuno then took Ukyo gently into his arms and carried her to the 
door. Nabiki scrounged around for their few possessions and ended up 
pocketing a 7.65mm semiautomatic from one of the slain. She didn't 
have a clue how to use it, but if necessary she could bluff.
     They scrambled down the steps of the dacha to the grassy hillside. 
Nabiki hadn't found any keys to the vehicles and didn't feel up to the 
kind of search through the dead to find them. They would travel on foot. 
No one harassed them as they fled. In fact the closest dacha was at least 
six kilometers away.
     "Do you know where we are going?" Kuno asked.
     Nabiki shrugged. "They were speaking Russian," she began. "I think 
we're in Russia, maybe the Ukraine, I don't know. I say we head west for 
now. If we can reach a town, maybe we can call for help. I have my long 
distance card and a credit card."
     "I do not feel the authorities will be sympathetic to our plight. We must 
take pains to avoid them." Kuno said.
     "I think I agree, but what else can we do?"
     "First we must delay pursuit," Kuno said. He slashed every vehicle tire 
with his sword. Then he cut down what seemed to be a telephone wire.
     "If Fortune favors us, we should have gained a few hours grace from 
pursuit," he said when he had finished.
     They started off down the hill. Tarchenko watched them go from the 
shelter of a copse of trees. He held his Tokarev at the ready, but knew 
that he had no hope of hitting them from such a distance.
     He also had no illusions about his chances of confronting them 
successfully. He was no marksman. He had managed to avoid mandatory 
conscription in the Red Army by virtue of his family's influence. Besides, 
what good was a little pistol against a swordsman who slaughtered men 
armed with automatic rifles?



                            End of Part Three



Author's notes:

     1) I would like to thank HM1(SS) Sisto (the Ship's Corpsman), and LT 
Lowe, M.D. (The Undersea Medical Officer of SDV Team ONE) for their 
assistance in finding just the right drugs to keep our heroes down. (That 
and for lending me their copy of the Physicians' Desk Reference for study.)
     2) Pentobarbital Sodium (Trade name Nembutal) is a barbiturate 
commonly used as a hypnotic in therapeutic doses, though may be used 
as a fast acting sedative when administered intramuscular or intravenously 
in a higher dosage.
     3) DMSO stands for Dimethyl Sulfoxide (Trade name Rimso-50). It 
was originally used for symptomatic relief of interstitial cystitis. Currently 
it is used as a transport vehicle for various applications such as seasickness 
and nicotine derms. DMSO allows large molecules to pass unhindered 
through the skin and into tissues and the bloodstream. Thus when mixed 
in a solution with say, Pentobarbital Sodium, it can create the effects of 
intramuscular or intravenous injection without using a needle. In this 
case a squirt bottle.
     4) The Kirlian device is still only in it's most primitive forms, and 
most of the conclusions about what the device is actually detecting are 
highly skeptical. Only time will tell, and the collapse of the Soviet Union 
has not done any funding wonders for the project. I have expanded upon 
the device to make it a little more useful than any current incarnations.
     5) As for the drug administered to poor Ukyo, I'm not at liberty to 
discuss it. Get your own copy of the PDR and you might find a few 
hypnotic/psychotropics that come close to what I've described when 
administered in carefully controlled doses. Psychosomatic effects are 
quite possible with the proper techniques. It's nasty stuff, and the 
process of chemical interrogation is a lot more involved than how I've 
described it. (So I'm told.) Don't try this at home folks...
     6) On the subject of sweating blood, it is more than just a biblical 
reference. It is possible to pass blood through the pores and sweat glands 
when under extreme duress. This capillarial hypertension also makes the 
skin extremely sensitive to stimulus. (Read as pain.)
     7) Not to be confused with the AK-47, the AK-74 is the current basic 
weapon of the former Soviet Union states. It is chambered to fire the 
smaller 5.45mm round vice the 7.62x39mm round used by the AK-47. It 
is very similar in function and appearance to it's older sibling.



Free the Nukes!