Here is yet another chapter in this cross-time continuity. If you
like it, lemme know. If you hate it, lemme know. If you have any
ideas on how to improve it, lemme know. Just be polite. Thanks to
Defender of the Light, and Trevor Hoffert, for prereading this for me.
Also, previous chapters are on my website; the URL is in my .Sig file.
Disclaimer: The trolls in Great Britain at Games Workshop
own Warhammer 40,000; I don't. I don't own the Ranma
characters, either.
The Emperor's Hand
Chapter Eight: Dedication
The Furinkan crew walked slowly away from the
Nekohanten. They had learned more than they wanted to about
how psychic powers worked, and not enough about how to rescue
Ranma from wherever, or whenever, he was. "We've got to get
him back, Nabiki. We have to!" exclaimed Ukyou.
Abruptly, Nabiki stopped. Hiroshi, right behind her, did
as well. Daisuke didn't stop in time, and collided with his
friend, sending them both rather rapidly to the pavement.
Somehow, they managed to be that clumsy without knocking
anyone over, except each other.
"What is it, Oneechan?" asked Akane.
"It was right in front of me. I missed the most obvious
clue of all!" She slapped her forehead, and grumbled, "We're
going back, right now." She turned on her heel, and began
striding back to the cafe.
By this time, the two young men had managed to untangle
themselves, and reached their feet. "Whaddya think she's
figured out?" asked Hiroshi.
"I have absolutely no idea," said Daisuke. With a shrug,
they turned, and marched down the street with their distaff
companions.
Back at the Nekohanten, the Shaman turned to Cologne.
"Oh, just for your information, they're coming back. You can
tell Mousse to put the tables back together again."
"At least you've warned me this time," groused the old
Matriarch. "Mousse, do as he said." She turned, and hopped
back to the kitchen to prepare some ramen for the visitors
they were soon to have.
Less than five minutes later, the Furinkan crew
returned. They found their places already set for them, and
the two younger Amazons sitting down, ready for another
lecture from the Shaman, or whatever would happen next.
Nabiki headed straight for her seat, sat down, and started
in. "Shaman, can you contact the remnants of this psychic
race?"
"Well, I believe so. I've met one or two, before; that's
why I know what I do about them. Why?"
Slurping down a spoonful of ramen, the young woman
simply said, "They're all psychic. Thus, you can contact them
telepathically. They have artificial tunnels through the
Warp. The Warp is the source of all psychic power. An
apparently future version of yourself took Ranma, apparently
to the future. Thus, the Warp can extend through time..."
"...And their tunnels in the Warp might reach through
time as well as space!" blurted Mousse. Finding every eye on
him, he shrunk back down in his seat. "Sorry."
"Don't be, Mousse, that was absolutely correct." Nabiki
fixed him with a predatory gaze. "If you're as smart as that
when you're not chasing Shampoo, you might actually be a
worthwhile catch." *Heh,* she thought, *let that one sit in
for a few, and let's see what happens. Oh, well, on to
business.*
Mousse blushed, Shampoo grumbled, and the Shaman sat in
his chair, eyes closed. As the gathered individuals waited,
in an uncomfortable silence, Nabiki noticed a halo of a
thousand, swirling colors lining his head. On top of that,
was a similar aura, but one more resembling purplish shifting
flames. Soon, the glow faded, and the ancient young man opened his
eyes. "It is done. An old friend of mine will be here on the morrow.
Let us eat, and wait until then."
****************************************************
No less than thirty Eldar, mostly Aspect Warriors,
clustered around the entrance of Ranma's chamber. The psychic
scream had drawn them, most concerned for Ardallan, but at
least some concerned for the Human, as well.
Slowly, the two woke up, the Warlock first. Both were
groggy, but otherwise okay. Eldaveril, Ardallan's daughter,
and Aspect Warrior of the Banshee Shrine, helped her father
to his feet, then put a hand on the young man's shoulder.
"Anial Gorwydd, are you alright?"
"Unh, yeah. Feel like I just went about twenty rounds
with Tarou and Ryouga at the same time." He shook his head,
then looked around. "Um, Ardallan, I'm not so sure this was
such a good idea."
"Oh?" murmured the Eldar psyker. "Wha' makes y' say
that?" He, too, shook his head to clear the cobwebs out of
it.
" 'Cause I remember somethin' else, now. Um, can I have
a glass of water?"
Ardallan laughed. "Don't worry about Jusenkyo, young
man. I felt the strength of the curse when I touched your
memories, and I don't think it could last thirty thousand
years."
"Thirty thousand years? Jusenkyo? Father, what are you
talking about?" asked Eldaveril.
"It seems that Ranma, here, is the most ancient mortal
on the Craftworld, now. The only thing puzzling me is where
you have been for all the time between your last memory, and
when you appeared among us." The Warlock shrugged, an all-too
human gesture. "We can worry about this later. You may not be
willing to kill, even in battle, but the rest of us must
carry on with the war."
"Yeah, the last thing I remember was Akane booting me in the head.
And I thought the Hive Master, or whatever, was killed. What else is
there to fight?" Ranma glanced at the Banshee. "Isn't it over?"
"Sorry, no." Teldurin stepped into the room, as the rest
of the Eldar wandered away. "We destroyed one Hive Tyrant.
Perhaps he was the strongest, but there are several such
creatures within the Tyrannid Fleet. The war goes on, and
will likely last several months. You will accompany us no
more, for the sake of your rather delicate sensibilities."
Ranma nodded. He didn't like not being allowed to fight,
but he knew he'd be asked to kill if he did go with them.
"Yeah, well, anyway, I'm not so sure about that business
about my curse, anyway, Ardallan. How can I be sure?"
"We can always test it. Come on, let us go to eat. I'm
sure your friends have a lot of war stories to tell." The
Warlock put his hand on the martial artist's shoulder. "And
you can now return the favor."
Looking up at Ardallan, Ranma nodded. "More than you
know. More than you... wait a minute, more than they know."
****************************************************
Night came to Nerima in the usual manner, with an
orbital Kuno. In this case, it was Tatewake, who assailed
Akane on the way home from the Nekohanten. In return for his
affection, he received a size six shoe, and a size eighty-
seven spatula.
"Honestly, you'd think he'd learn," groused the youngest
Tendou. "But, no, he keeps trying it."
Yuka poked Sayuri in the ribs. "Hey, at least he's not
after us, huh?"
Sayuri glanced behind her as she noticed the two boys
plotting together. "Maybe not, but..."
She was cut off by a glomp, as Hiroshi and Daisuke
attached themselves to the two girls. In an eerie stereo,
they proclaimed, "Oh, my wild beauty, defeat me and I will
allow you to date with me!"
Ukyou broke out laughing, Akane shook her head, and Yuka
wailed, "Hey, martial artists, we could use a little help
here!" She struggled, but couldn't escape the grasping hands
of Hiroshi.
The okonomiyaki chef got control of herself, and
chortled, "Sorry, you guys are on your own this time."
"I don't know, I kind of like it," said Sayuri,
snuggling up to the boy behind her. In response, Daisuke
fainted in response to an intense nosebleed. "Works like a
charm."
Hiroshi grinned. "Sorry, Yuka, won't work on me!"
"Maybe not... but this will!" One sharp elbow to the gut
later, and she was free. "See you two tomorrow, at school,"
she said sweetly.
"Sure... thing..." gasped the young man. "Later..."
Dinner at the Tendou home was slightly more animated
than it had been on the previous few nights. Genma was in
human form, since Nodoka had gone home earlier that day, and
Akane even managed to steal a little bit of food from his
plate. "Well, daughter," said Soun. "You must have gotten
some good news today."
"Maybe. But I don't want to talk about it, right now."
She quickly downed a bite of yakisoba. "I might jinx it if I
do."
"Now, Akane, no need to be superstitious," said Nabiki.
"Why not? If there's water-activated shapeshifting
curses, powerful chi attacks, mirrors that can send people
through time... did I just say what I thought I did?" Akane
stopped, chopsticks halfway between her plate and her mouth.
"Imoutochan, you are a genius. Happosai mentioned last
month he still had the remnants of the Nanban Mirror... at
least, he made a threat to that extent... and it may be in
his room." Nabiki set down her chopsticks. "I'll be right
back." She stood up, and headed upstairs.
Soun looked back and forth between his middle and
youngest daughter. "Am I missing something here?"
Akane giggled. "Yes, daddy. Your dinner. Uncle Saotome
just snatched it all up."
"GENMA!"
>SPLASH!<
-I'm just a cute and cuddly panda- said the sign.
****************************************************
"Good grief, he's got a lot of underwear... female, that
is," muttered Nabiki as she rifled through Happosai's
drawers. "Nothing but panties and bras."
The door opened, and she looked up. There, in the
doorway, was Akane. "Found it, yet?"
She sighed. "Not yet. But I did find that pair of Batz
Maru panties you've been missing for the past three months."
"Wonderful. What about his closet?" asked the younger
girl.
"Haven't tried it yet. Be my guest."
Akane stepped over one of the piles of unmentionables,
and reached for the closet door. She turned the handle, and
an ominous creak foretold her doom. Hundreds, if not
thousands, of panties, bras, negligees, teddies, bustiers,
and many more such garments cascaded down on her.
"Hey, look, Akane, there's a box here," said Nabiki.
"MMMMMPHH!!" garbled the younger girl, through many
layers of lingerie.
"I'll get you out in a minute," said her sister. "I've
just got to get this box out of here."
"GLLRMPH!!!"
"Oh, alright." Nabiki started digging, finally seeing a
hand. Grabbing it, she braced herself, and hauled her sister
to her feet. "Happy now?"
"You could have helped me up sooner!" complained Akane.
"Please, I got you up, and didn't charge you anything."
She motioned to the box. "Let's look through all this junk,
and see if we can find the mirror."
Ten scrolls, two books, assorted odd pieces of
underwear, two old sword hilts, three crystal balls, three
yellow balls with assorted numbers of stars on them, and one
tiger-striped bikini later, they had found it. Or, at least,
what was left of it. It was in fragments, hastily taped back
together, and back in the frame.
The sisters looked at each other, and down at the
mirror. Nabiki spoke first. "You go downstairs, and get an
onion and a knife. I'll clean up a little in here." Akane
nodded, and left the room, not noticing her sister pocket a
particularly pretty, and rather large, ruby.
A moment later, the younger girl returned. "Got it," she
said. The sisters crouched over the mirror, and Akane
carefully sliced the onion. Rubbing one half below her eyes,
she let a tear drop on it. "Take us to Ranma," she said.
The mirror glowed briefly, then a large spark jumped
from it. The fragments stopped glowing, and shattered in the
frame. "You know," said Nabiki, "I don't think it's going to
work. But it was worth a try."
Akane's shoulders slumped. "Yeah. But it seemed like the
perfect answer."
"Don't worry," said the older girl. "We'll be seeing the
Shaman's friend tomorrow. Maybe he... she... it... whatever
it is, will be able to help us."
"Maybe..."
"C'mon, Akane, let's go. It's early in the evening,
let's go get some ice cream. We're going Dutch, of course."
****************************************************
Somewhere in the darkness of the night, time and space
gathered their threads together, and spread them in a
graceful arc. The warp and weft of reality folded through
that arc, as the Eldar Webway opened on Tokyo Tower. Through
this path stepped a lone figure, dressed in brilliant hues
and patterns. The colors clashed, and wove themselves in
patterns on his garments that threatened all good taste. On
his face was a vibrant green and orange mask, and various
scarves of bright colors were tied around his waist, thigh,
and belt. Seconds later, time and space resumed their normal
course, sealing the rift without a trace.
"Welcome, Solitaire," came a voice behind him. The
figure turned around, and saw a young Human stepping out of
the shadows. "I'm glad you responded so quickly."
"Your mind-call was most urgent, Shaman. It took me
hours to find a Webway portal to this world. I trust that it
is vital enough to take me from my people?" The Solitaire
crossed his arms, waiting for the Human to answer him.
"There is a boy lost in time, possibly by my own hand.
My companions seek the assistance of your people. It is
possible that the Webway spans time, in addition to space, is
it not?"
The colorful figure snorted. "Hmph. A single boy. I am
one of the few capable fighters my people have, and you would
take me away from them for the sake of a single child of a
primitive race."
"There are other factors involved. As I said, it
appeared that I was the one who plucked him from this time,
to pull him to what will be the present for me." The young
man bowed. "Shall we discuss this somewhere more comfortable,
over a light meal?"
"Let us go, then," responded the Solitaire. A thousand
shimmering colors surrounded the Shaman and his guest, and
they levitated off the observation deck. A half-second later,
and they were winging their way back to the Nekohanten.
=====
- Valandar the Red of the Empty Tankard
Captain of the Guard of the Barony of the Far Woods
Empire of the Iron Mountains
http://members.tripod.com/~Valandar/fanfic.html
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