Just when you thought it was safe to log into your email account...

Nightelf (nwl9354@tam2000.tamu.edu) presents...

The Circe Project 

part 6

A work of anime fanfiction by Nicholas Leifker, aka "Nightelf"

All Ranma 1/2 characters property of Rumiko Takahashi.  All Bubblegum 
Crisis characters property of Kenichi Sonoda.  All others property of me.  
All rights reserved.  Is that all?  Anyway, I must ask that you not do 
anything with any part of this work without the author's permission.

Well, sit back and enjoy the ride.

_____________________________________________________________________________

     The Knightwing cruised slowly over the shadowy Chinese countryside 
in order to avoid detection, as though the craft were some avian predator 
quietly searching for prey.  A similar silent foreboding permeated the 
atmosphere inside, if for somewhat different reasons.  This trip would be 
a sort of homecoming for the sextet of women armored and waiting inside: 
ancient battleground, ancestral home, graveyard of dreams...Sylia's 
businesslike voice pierced through the oppressive silence, bringing to 
focus the objective, the battle, and the risks.  

     "Thirty seconds to release, everyone.  You know the plan.  Hit hard, 
hit fast, get out.  Mackie, Nodoka, you're with me.  The rest of you stay 
outside and keep the boomers busy."

     A subtle technomechanical symphony played itself out as the Knight 
Sabers began to make last-second checks to their equipment, the soft 
clicks and whistles akin to musicians stoically tuning their instruments 
before a concert.  They were quite aware of what was at stake, and knew 
from frightening experience the possible results of failure.  Remembering 
her own transformation, Mackie took a long look at the red-suited warrior 
next to her, then shook her head, pulling herself back to the task at hand.

     "Ready...Now!"

     The half-dozen warriors flew from the Knightwing, dancing in 
starlight as they made their way to the ground, expecting a phalanx of 
Boomers to come rushing for them at any moment.  The tinmen came to greet 
them almost immediately, their metal fangs and inhuman eyes gleaming 
beneath the half-moon's cold glare.  The first wave of artificial 
soldiers fell almost immediately, their electronic vocal cords emitting 
almost human screams as their virtual lives ended.  Sylia and her group 
ran past the second wave as the others kept the Boomers busy. 

     "See you in a few minutes," Mackie chimed over the radio, the 
adrenaline rush soaring through her sending her already-high voice up a 
few notches.  

     "Be careful, rookie.  Your arrogance could kill us all."  Priss kept 
her tone derisive, to temper the youngster's fire, while tryiing to 
subdue her own dangerous enthusiasm.  She watched for a last second as 
the trio blasted the now-closing doors, then rushed inside.  "Good luck...
and hurry back."  The retrothrash singer then turned back to her attackers 
and started cutting her way through the Boomer horde, praying that they 
would make it out of the lion's den...and that her own group would be 
there to greet them.

*****************************************************************************

     "A martial artist must be prepared to give up his or her life for the 
sake of the art."  This was one of the fundamental rules of a warrior of 
the Anything-Goes School, a rule dictated by life and death from its 
earliest days.  Circumatances required that it would be taught from 
sensei to child and drilled into them like a mantra, to give them courage 
in their darkest hour.  After all, a time of testing could occur 
anywhere...the cursed pools of Jusenkyo, the dark forests of Ryugenzawa, 
the trecherous caverns of Mount Phoenix...or facing down a rampaging 
boomer in MegaTokyo's streets, cradling your beloved's lifeless form in 
your arms.  The words came automatically to Ranma Saotome at each of 
these locales, providing a focus for his passions, helping him to drive 
away the fear and despair clawing at his heart, and giving him the 
strength to fight the storm to its bitter end.

     Now that he was on the sidelines, _waiting_, the words came again to 
the martial-arts master...and served to agitate him, rather than 
comfort.  He fidgeted in front of the console, listening to the radio 
transmissions, becoming increasingly frustrated at Nodoka's necessary 
silence...until a woman's hand, so familiar yet somewhat different, 
touched his shoulder, giving him an anchor to latch on to.

     "Relax.  They be all right."  Shampoo.  Like him, she held a bit of 
her heart at risk, as the last bastion of her knowledge danced away in 
lime-green armor.  A small smile crept across her face, strong without 
the innocence of youth.  "They come back, you see."

     He stood up and faced her, looked deep into her eyes, and saw his own 
fear mirrored in hers.  "I...I know."  The two stared at each other for 
what seemed an eternity, feeling the years and angers between them melt 
away.  He brought her in close to himself, his face still stone from the 
anguish within, but slowly dissipating in her warmth.

     His eyes shifted to the once-empty computer monitor, now showing 
reams of data flying across, at which point a world of relief spread 
throughout his body.  He turned his ears back to the headphone in his 
ear, and the screaming voice coming from it.

     "Ranma?  Are you there?  Answer, please..." the tinny voice called from 
the void, curious at the lack of a response.  

     "Huh?  Oh, yeah, I'm here."

     Leon sighed, letting his exasperation show.  "Do you have the data 
yet?"

     He looked at the final line of the screen, indicating the data's 
final resting place: Sylia's mainframe.  "Yeah.  It all checks out."  
The martial-arts mater removed himself from Shampoo and sat down, 
confirming the data's existence and stability.  

     "Are you okay, Ranma?  You sound...flustered.  Are you and Shampoo 
doing something you shouldn't be?  You two still haven't turned on the 
video yet."  The ADPolice officer's voice laughed from the Knightwing's 
pilot seat.

     Ranma turned a nice shade of crimson as he nervously adjusted the 
collar on his shirt.  He stole a last, mischievous glance at the Amazon, 
then switched the video on.

*****************************************************************************

     "Get ready.  We're coming out."

     Priss let out a sigh of relief as the inner radio silence was 
broken, though something still nagged at her.  It had been Nodoka, and 
not Mackie or Sylia, who had signaled their exit, triggering a long-worn 
bundle of nerves in the back of her mind.  Her fears proved unfounded , 
though, as all three of them exited the laboratory at full speed.  
Sylia's voice, unusually subdued for the occasion, whispered over the 
radio.  

     "Let's get out of here."

     The Sabers quickly fired their emergency thrusters and headed away 
from the accursed place, closely followed by the few Boomers who remained.  
The Knightwing's guns lit up to take care of any threats as they boarded, 
securing their safe return.  Leon hit the thrusters once they were all in 
safely, rocketing the merceneries safely away.

     Daylight briefly came back to the area a moment later as a bright 
flash of light expanded behind them, vaporizing the laboratory and 
springs in a flower of light.  The group looked back at the explosion, 
spellbound, hopeful that they had set their personal ghosts to rest.

     All except Sylia.  She sat motionless in her chair, helmet off, 
unwiped tears streaming down her face.  

     "Sylia...are you okay?"  Priss turned to their leader and mentor, 
concern in her eyes.  

     A metal hand grasped Priss' shoulder, holding back any further 
questions.  Mackie stood behind her, a sober look in her eyes, waving 
off any comments with a shake of her head.  "Sylia...saw the 
experiment room.  She's not exactly in a conversational mood at the 
moment."  

     Sylia turned her head out to face the darkness, mourning a man 
who had adored her, then betrayed her...

                             ***   

     Mission accomplished.  All the data had been transferred to the 
Saber database, and the explosive charges were off and ticking.  
Only one thing remained: getting the heck out of their before the 
place was a smouldering crater.  So far, they had been lucky: no 
hitches, no casualties.  She motioned for Mackie and Nodoka to 
follow, then ran out of the room, not wishing to stay any longer 
than they had to.  

     They had nearly reached the outside when Mackie stopped, her eyes 
locked on one of the doors.  Sylia ran back, then noticed the two words 
that had captured Mackie's attention.

     Experiment Room.

     "Sylia..."

     The elder sister loked at the younger curiously.  "Mackie?"

     "We have to go in there.  There may be people inside."

     Sylia shook her head, placing an arm across Mackie's chest.  "No.  
There's no time."

     Mackie's voice was supernally calm.  "Sylia...please.  We have to 
see."

     The silver-clad warrior sighed.  Mackie would go in there, even if 
she ordered her not to.  "_I'll_ go in.  Okay?"    

     She opened the door...and walked straight into hell.  It was a large 
room, roughly the size of a high-school gymnasium, with surgical beds and 
other scientific and medical equipment on the near end.  At the far end 
were cages, of ever concievable shape and size, with a small menagerie 
making makeshift homes behind prison bars.  A few custodians trudged 
along here and there, slowly occupying themselves with their tasks, 
hiding their pain behind expressionless masks.

     A child, no more than seven physically, looked up at Sylia, and 
gasped.  His eyes, like the others, showed a world of hurt, though there 
was something else mingled in...guilt?  Tears welled in those eyes as two 
words escaped his lips:  "Knight Sabers..."

     The warrior walked over to the boy and knelt down, bringing herself 
face-to-shielded-face.  "May I help you?"

     The boy looked down, unable to meet her gaze.  His voice was 
strangely quiet as he shook his head.  "No...I'm beyond help.  All of us 
are.  If you could, tell Sylia...tell her I'm sorry."

     She gasped.  Somehow, the child knew...

     "You see, I worked for Sylia for a long time...and...when...I...I 
betrayed her trust.  Genom gave me a 'just reward' for my service."

     "I am condemned - cursed to live as a child for the rest of my 
unnatural life.  There is no cure, no hope for relief.  All of us are 
implanted with behavior inhibitors, so we can't escape or commit any act 
of violence.  We can't even kill ourselves..." He started to shake in 
anger, as though fighting to control himself, then relaxed, dejected.

     His face, wet with tears, rose to meet Sylia's.  The high, childlike 
voice spoke with a chilling sobriety.  "Please...kill me..."

     Sylia looked at the young boy and swallowed hard, trying to fight 
down her own emotions.  Here was a man, now a boy forever, condemned 
to a life of hell, asking only for relief.  She thought back to nights 
spent in seedy bars and amusement parks...Her voice shook as she glanced 
at the timer in her helmet.  

     "The building will go up in two minutes.  Make your peace 
now...Fargo."

     The boy looked shocked for a moment, then smiled, as though 
offered redemption.  "Thank you...Sylia."

     The woman left the room quickly, her emotions a whirlwind 
threatening to overwhelm her.  Nodoka and Mackie waited for her outside, 
nervously eyeing the clock.

     "Sis?"

     Sylia looked at her cursed sibling, unable to explain, yet 
unable to forget.  She simply ran toward the exit, her voice incapable 
of coherent speech.

                             ***

     Questions and prayers raced through Sylia's mind as she watched 
the darkness of night transform to the strange indigo of predawn.  
Genom potentially possessed a weapon of cold, modern ferocity, 
striking its victims at the very soul, by horribly warping the body 
which housed it.  Perhaps even more frightening, there was a way to 
stop their madness...but at a potential cost as great as the reward.

*****************************************************************************
       
     "Hey, Ucchan..."

     The okonomiyaki cook's eyes lit up, excited as her favorite customer 
entered.  "Ranchan!  How've you been?  Lemme guess...one deluxe special, 
right?"

     Ranma smiled, taking comfort in the familiarity, as Ukyou led him to 
his usual table, then went back to grill.  The chef came back a moment 
later, bearing a tray with two okonomiyaki and drinks.  She set the food 
down and took a seat across from him.  She noted the concern etched on 
his face, and guessed (correctly) the source of the concern.

     "So...how was the date with Shampoo last night?"

     "Oh, you heard about that, huh?"  Somewhat sheepish, Ranma took a 
bite from his plate, savoring the timeless flavor.

     "You forget my husband is a trained ninja.  He told me all about 
your dinner, her crying, how you held her...Just out of curiosity, why 
in the world did you two go to some auto garage?"

     "Well, that bit's a long story, concerning the dojo.  Anyway, 
Ucchan..."

     "Lemme guess."  Ukyou cut a piece of okonomiyaki from her plate and 
stuck it on her fork.  She waved the piece of food around, gesturing with 
it as she spoke.  "The way I see it, you're either wondering if you should 
start a relationship with her...or if you can have my blessing."  She 
finally stuck the piece of okonomiyaki in her mouth.

     "Uh...yes, to both, actually."  Ranma was mildly surprised at 
Ukyou's accuracy.  A sage's smile crept on Ukyou's face as she recalled 
the bitter past.

     "Ranchan, I remember seeing you after Akane...You were so lonely, 
it was as if you had died, instead of her.  To be honest, if it weren't 
for the rugrat, you probably would've."

     Memories of certain tomboys filled the old man's mind.  "Yeah...now 
that rugrat's got a guy of her own."      

     "Shampoo, from what I've seen, has changed a lot.  She isn't quite 
as..."

     "Forceful?"

     "You said it, not me.  Also, she's older, wiser...she's a widow too, 
now.  This time, there won't be any battles or weird schemes...I'm 
married, and the others are gone.  Without that competition, she's 
probably a great woman to be with, and...she makes you happy, I can 
tell.  That's what's important."

     "I take it that's a yes?"

     "Of course it is!  Now let's get on to more important stuff."  She 
pulled out an envelope filled with photos.  "Midori-chan had her baby 
last week.  Isn't little Hikaru adorable...?"

*****************************************************************************

     An old man shuffled his feet through the inner corridors of Genom 
Tower, his gaunt, haggard frame sagging from the weight of the world on 
his shoulders.  Factories all over Japan were threatening to strike, 
citing unsafe working conditions.  The Diet was considering a limit on 
Boomer exportation, resulting in a sizeable drop on the Nikkei.  And, to 
top it all off, a certain top-secret lab was destroyed...apparantly by 
the mercenery Knight Sabers, a threat thought destroyed long ago.  

     Needless to say, this was not Quincy's brightest hour.

     The mastermind behind Genom's rise to power moved slowly, feeling 
the decay of age a little more intensely than usual today.  He absently 
rubbed at a sore arm muscle as he approached a highly secure door.  The 
door responded to his presence and began to speak, its quiet feminine 
voice soothing the old man's nerves.

     "Greetings, weary traveler.  Please place your right hand on the 
touchpad for the first identification."  He managed a weak smile as he 
raised a hand to the pad.  The voice continued.

     "Speak, friend, and enter in peace."

     "Friend."  The CEO of Genom made a mental note to fire whoever 
installed the bad pun for the voiceprint.

     "Handprint, voiceprint, and password verification confirmed.  
Welcome to the Elysium, Chairman Quincy."

     The executive's eyes sparkled as he looked around the room, easily 
the most secure in MegaTokyo, if not the world.  King-size bed, 
universal entertainment computer, bar, lounge, all surrounded by ceramic 
and alloy strong enough to withstand an orbital laser blast.  Fully 
automated, self-contained, self-cleaning and repairing...only Madigan 
could even contact him, and even then only in an emergency.    

     Here he could escape, and shut out the ghosts.

     The old man went to the bar and fumbled over a bottle of scotch.  
After pouring himself a generous glass, he staggered back to the bed, 
nearly spilling his drink in the process.  A tired voice called out to 
the room in general.

     "Computer, music: Classical, Schubert's Eighth Symphony in B Minor, 
MegaTokyo Philharmonic, Hikaru Kousuke conducting.  Both movements, 
please.  Volume level 2.3, light level 1.0.

     The music seemed to flow from the walls at his command, its 
haunting melodies drifting through him, easing his aging muscles and 
soothing his tired mind.  Within minutes, he was fast asleep, scotch 
spilled on the bed, his mind dreaming of a time long before Genom.

     In an dark, shadowed corner, red eyes glowed, then narrowed.

*****************************************************************************

Hello.

The results of the early release reminded me of something a venerable 
fanfic writer once told me concerning fanfic revisions.  He told me that, 
upon completion of the first draft of a 'fic, he always thought (insert 
mad scientist laugh here) "This is perfect!!"...until his prereaders got 
a hold of it.

I first wrote the "Return to Jusenkyo" scene on an overnight security 
shift at Aggiecon 27 last March, back when the only thing anyone had 
seen of Circe was a preview I had posted to the ML.  Ironically, I 
finished the second draft on an overnight security shift at Novacon 12 
last weekend.  Anyway, I hadn't realized how much my writing style had 
changed in between now and then until I posted this...and found that the 
blending of the two styles ended up sounding like Kunou at his worst.  I 
didn't realize this, of course, until I looked at the comments I was 
receiving, and then read the printout of the 'fic.  Hopefully, I've 
fixed it a bit.    

Look for a non-Ranma release from me very soon.

Thanks to...

Rumiko Takahashi and Kenichi Sonoda, for the obvious.

All those on the ML and the early list for their comments and help, in 
particular skywise, Stormwalker, and Chris Willmore (BTW, Chris, looking 
at your critique, I found it to be quite entertaining  ;)  ).

As always, C&C is appreciated.

If you would like to be a part of my early list, let me know.  Trust me, 
you never know what I'll send over that.  

Nicholas Leifker
"Nightelf"
nwl9354@tam2000.tamu.edu
October 17, 1996