Jed M Bidwell wrote:
That's all I have so far. the idea came ot me just last night, so I
haven't had much time to think it over. Any ideas, comments, questions? Love
to hear 'em!
Why force Ranma to pick up new skills just to be able to participate in
situations like this?
---
"I repeat, we are an *unarmed* freighter transporting medical supplies!
Hijacking our cargo is a Level 2 violation of interstellar law." The
pilot knew her adversaries knew the punishment: Level 3 and below could
be rehabilitated if the criminal was caught; Level 2 meant capital
punishment. "There's whole planets depending on our cargo; they *might*
just make this a Level 1." Which was all-out war, where citizens would
be drafted (and compensated) to hunt down and destroy those who posed an
immediate and significant threat to the citizens' lives.
"Wormshit. Three of our buddies are now space dust; we got their flight
recorder. It shows you firing some kind of energy blast at 'em. I
don't know how you're cloaking it from our scanners, but we're gonna
help ourselves to your gun. Then we're gonna take your medicine and
sell it to the sick."
"The've already paid."
"And they can pay again. I figure...oh, *all* of their annual thorium
production's enough of a price to keep on breathing."
"But how would they pay for food? And they're going to need more
meidicine..."
"That's their problem. Now prepare to be boarded."
"Oh, we'll prepare, alright..."
"What's that supposed to mean? HEY, DON'T JUST WALK AWAY FROM THE
COMM..." *click*
---
Ranma stepped into the airlock, performing one last check of her gear.
Her magnetic boots were active and secured to her feet. Her head-mount
radio/targetting scanner set had just finished powering up. Her
survival belt was on - not that she expected to need it, but it was nice
to know that it would inflate into a barrier against the void if her
main "suit" went down.
And her battle aura had just passed the one kilowatt per square
millimeter mark. (It was a good thing she had had her freighter's
airlocks built with that in mind. She was going to have to get much
more control before she could safely do this aboard any other ship.)
Stepping out onto her craft's external skin, she looked up at the two
approaching pirate ships. At this range, she could almost see them
with her own eyes - and her scanner had no problem acquiring target
lock. If they could see her, they would see her female form - a handy
disguise, since she usually went around as a man on stations and on
planets. She breathed in, smelling the chi-refreshed air against her
skin and wondering, just for a moment, how every breath of it seemed
like the first.
Only she heard her words, but only she cared. The words were a focus,
an aid to amplify her pride and thus amplify her energy. All the
pirates would ever see would be a small dot of plasma darting through
their shields as if they weren't there, then the explosion of their own
fuel tanks.
Two miniature novas later, Ranma stepped back inside, dissapated her
aura by condensing some hot water onto her skin, and checked his own
ship's recorder. The craft had been identified; a few keystrokes later,
confirmation of their demises were en route to local law enforcement
authorities. If one looked at the numbers, bounty hunting was
significantly more profitable than cargo hauling...but Ranma did it
because it was a public service, not because he particularly cared for
the money. Besides, with all the miracles of technology he had seen
developed in his many centuries of existence, there were not many true
martial artists of any species still practicing, and someone had to show
that the Way was still relevant.