Well, after being set on vacation by the list by mistake
(wish I could figure out why, it's not like my mailbox was
even close to full), I'm back. I also have a stange
request. I am prepared to release the second part of
"Gathering Forces," but I need a second pre-reader since my
current one (Mark, thanks putting up with the ideas the
voices in my head give me) doesn't know Xenogears. Any
takers?
Previous chapters can be found at
(http://home.earthlink.net/~tannim/index.html) and
(http://www.sofaspud.org/couch/). There will be an update
Guardian's Soul and the last few chapters of Warrior's Path
soon (I wish someone had told me I was misspelling a
characters name).
Disclaimer: Contrary to the discription given by one of my
hosts, there are no cloned sheep in this story (though
Pirotess is known to be a little kinky...).
Guardian's Soul
By Andrew Wilson
Chapter 3: A Very Brief Rest or "Relax, the Universe IS Out
to Get You."
A quiet beeping in his ear intruded on a rather nice dream.
Ranma did not wake up. The earpiece issued a louder beep.
Still Ranma slept. Finally, the tiny alarm clock sent a
small jolt of electricity into the nearby skin and nerves.
That woke him up, slightly. For a few minutes Ranma just
lay there, fighting the last temptations of sleep. Slowly,
he reached up, deactivated the earpiece, and then removed
it. He gently placed the alarm on the small shelf beside
his bunk, careful not to make any noise. He looked down,
and saw that the mass of blond hair lying on his shoulder
was not stirring. Now came his usual morning challenge for
the past year, namely getting out of bed without waking
Deedlit. Ranma was agile, and could sneak up on a c-c-c-ca-
alert wild animal without it noticing his presence. Even
so, the elf had ears that could hear a mumbled conversation
twenty meters away, through a crowd, in a thunderstorm.
Well, maybe without the crowd.
Carefully, he extracted his arm from below her head, working
his fingers to get circulation back into the sleeping limb.
Next, he slowly lifted her arm from his chest, and slid off
the mattress. Slipping on his practice clothes, he was
about to exit the room when a though struck him. Creeping
over to the bed, he leaned over and kissed his sleeping wife
on the cheek.
"I win," he whispered.
Deedlit's hand shot out, catching him by the collar. "You
think so?" she asked, pulling Ranma closer. After a much
longer kiss, she gently pushed him away. "Now, you go and
play with Ryoga," she teased, "wake me up when you get
back. Preferably at least an hour *after* dawn."
Shaking his head, Ranma left the small room they had been
given for their short stay at Vulcan's Forge. Following the
directions given to him the night before, he soon found
himself in a large gymnasium. All around were other early
risers going through various routines. Over to the side, he
spotted Ryoga benching a significant portion of the room's
weights, plus two cyclone riders in full gear. Walking
over, Ranma began hearing bits of the conversations in the
crowd that had gathered.
"Ninety-six."
"You bet how much?"
"I didn't think he could lift that much."
"Ninety-seven."
"This is worse than that Banderas freak."
"How much did you loose with that one?"
"Ninety-eight."
"The same, a weeks pay."
"You must be the worst gambler on the base."
"Ninety-nine."
"No, that title belongs to a guy in my poker group. He once
folded with four aces."
"Ouch."
"One hundred! Pay up, chumps."
Money changed hands as Ryoga set the oversized barbell
down. The cyclone riders grudgingly handed over some cash
as well. Ryoga checked the amount, them smiled.
"Until next time," he chuckled, "suckers."
"Have you stooped to selling yourself?" Ranma asked, walking
up.
"Never," Ryoga asserted. "Just a small wager. I was doing
my usual hundred-kilo warm-up, and those two doubted someone
my size could lift that much. I stated that it was my
warm-up, and they countered with the bet. My warm-up, plus
them, their armor, and cyclones, for one hundred reps. They
lost. Actually, the bet was just the two of them, I
countered with their armor as well."
Ranma shrugged, they never learned. Wherever they went, no
one ever believed Ryoga's strength. "You ready?"
"Bring it on."
What followed was a sparring routine that had several
unarmed combat instructors begging to be taught. With the
reply of "we're just getting started," the line for classes
tripled in length. They then moved on to armed combat.
Swords, knives, clubs, staves, nunchaku, polearms, and
anything else on the racks. For two hours this went on,
alternating between forms, styles, and tools. The familiar
balance was soon reached. Ranma was quicker, and able to
strike more blows, as well as dodging many more than he
took. Ryoga, on the other hand, took more blows (though
nothing short of a plasma warhead could do any real damage
to the lost boy), and didn't hit Ranma as often, but his
hits were such that one shot was all that would be needed
against most foes.
By the time they broke, covered in sweat, the sun had been
up for more than an hour. The original crowd had increased
in size exponentially, though none were concerned with their
own workout. Several of the more enterprising members of
the crew were discussing charging admission to such
sessions. Of course, Ranma broke the spell by saying they
would only be in the area for a few days.
The two walked out, leaving behind a group of slack-jawed
soldiers.
"How long are we going to be here?" Ranma asked.
"Pirotess said that Conner and Emeralda needed a day or so
to arrange things. I guess we'll be on the way by
tomorrow."
"What day is it, anyway? I lost track."
"Saturday, moron."
"Watch it, pig-boy."
They split off at the next intersection. Ryoga went toward
his room (passing through the hanger deck, main engineering,
and Munich on the way), while Ranma entered the room that he
shared with Deedlit.
She was awake, Ranma saw, but far from aware. At the
moment, Deedlit hovered a few inches above the center of the
room, encased in a blue glow. In her lap was a large
sapphire. Beside her sat three other identical gems, the
only difference being the faint flow coming from the three
on the floor. As Ranma bent over to examine them, Deedlit
opened her eyes and the glow faded.
"Have a nice workout?" she asked, placing the fourth gem
beside the others, and them placing all four in a large
pouch.
"The usual," Ranma replied. "Are those the self charging
kind?"
"Yes," Deedlit answered. "I'll try to make one or two more
by the time we leave. Then we can let them charge when we
arrive at the isles. Once charged, each should have about
half the energy I can carry at a time."
Ranma boggled. "What do you need that much energy for?"
Deedlit shrugged. "I have a hunch that I'll need to use
spell we talked about a while back."
"Oh, the version that doesn't involve calling on the Old
Ones?"
"Yeah. Unfortunately, the power requirements without them
are rather steep. I think that six of these should allow me
to it cast once, maybe twice."
"Ouch. At least it's worth not having to call on the supreme
incarnation of chaos and destruction in the Megaverse. What
was the original version called?"
"Giga-something. I never thought to check. I just read
about what was done, and how, then created a version that
wasn't based on evil."
"Nice idea. What do we have planned today?"
"Well," Deedlit grinned, "once you get cleaned up, Conner
told me that the Admiral is ready to see you."
Ranma gulped, then headed to the shower with a resigned
sigh.
*******
<Mindwerks>
For a moment, Ashram felt odd. His sense of Ryoga magnified
for a moment, then returned to what it had been for the past
week. A though stuck him, and he turned to the Angel of
Vengeance.
"Is this facility protected against teleportation?"
The cyborg paused, her gargoyle-like face showing no
expression. "Marsalis is in charge of such things. Why?"
"Because one of my enemies, and that would make him your
enemy as well, has a tendency to get lost. He would rarely
be able to walk a corridor, such as this, unescorted without
dimensionally shifting at least twice. I would hate to see
him pop up here."
The borg nodded. "I shall remember that. Now come, my
mother is rather impatient."
*******
<Vulcan's Forge>
Ranma hated waiting. Usually it wasn't because of
impatience, but because he felt there were better things to
do.
At the moment, leaning against the wall outside of Vice
Admiral Mitth'raw'nuruodo's private quarters, he didn't have
anything better to do, except possibly everything. If given
a choice between facing twenty ancient dragons in mortal
combat, and meeting Thrawn, Ranma would choose the dragons.
Ever since his days back in Nerima, Ranma avoided most
medical establishments (except Dr. Tofu, something about the
doctor was reassuring). The reason for this was his curse.
A slim, athletic man who transformed into a voluptuous woman
was something scientists and researchers would drool over
(both the curse, and the female body). Military people were
the same way, and would either want to use Ranma for
something, or try to kill him so others wouldn't try to use
him in the same way. Which is why he and Ryoga (who had
similar fears, though many of his involved bacon) avoided
coming to the base at Vulcan's Forge. Now time had run out,
and they were trapped. The companions lined the corridor,
waiting for the Admiral to be ready for them.
Further down the corridor, a lift opened. Out stepped a
olive skinned man in his mid fifties. Upon seeing the man,
Conner snapped to attention. Briefly, Ranma mused over how
strange it was to see Conner in a military uniform, instead
of the casual clothes he usually wore.
"Lieutenant Hamilton," the older man stated, "it has been a
while since your last report."
"Yes, sir," Conner replied.
"At ease, Lieutenant. I expect the full report on my desk
by fifteen hundred hours this afternoon. Is that clear."
"Yes, sir, Admiral, sir."
"And you call yourself a member of SpecOps."
Conner looked confused. "Excuse me, Admiral?"
The Admiral chuckled. "Imagine, someone in my command
agreeing to write a report, without any protest."
"A SEAL follows orders, sir."
A nod. "That they do." He turned to the Ranma and Ryoga.
"Pardon me, I guess we haven't been introduced, I'm Rear
Admiral Richard Cortez." He extended his hand to Ranma.
"Ranma Saotome," Ranma said, shaking the hand.
"Ryoga Hibiki," Ryoga said, repeating the gesture.
"Ah," Cortez laughed, "the infamous wrecking crew. I've
wanted to meet you for a while. Now that you're actually
here, I'll have to redouble my efforts to keep Science
Division off of your backs." Both members of the "wrecking
crew" breathed sighs of relief. At least one person was on
their side. "Of course, the Admiral has the final say in
that."
"Speaking of which," Catti-brie asked, "is it time?"
"Yes," was the simple reply. They were lead through the
door in the hallway into a small anteroom. Here they were
forced to relinquish their weapons. Ranma could feel the
weapons trained on them, though largely hidden. He had no
doubts that few could get through here armed, and live.
>From there they stepped though the far door...
Into a softly lit art gallery.
Hundreds of pieces filled the room. Sculptures, paintings,
and others of styles not readily identified by most humans.
In the background, strains of Mussorgsky (1) could be heard.
In the middle of it, sitting in a large chair in the center
of a double ring of display screens, was a man that appeared
almost human. His skin was a light blue, and his black hair
had a definite bluish tint. What most set him apart form
the human race, though, were his eyes. The glowing red eyes
were slits at the moment, but that did not make them any
less intimidating.
*Hey!* Ranma shouted at himself, *I'm Ranma Saotome, I'm not
scared or intimidated by nobody.*
The more rational part of his brain (which had gained
partial dominance over the past two years) replied *oh,
really, is that a guy you want to mess with?*
Both sides took one more look at the glowing eyes, and came
to an agreement. *Hell, no.*
"Admiral Thrawn," Cortez stated, coming to attention just
outside the ring of displays, "Lieutenant Hamilton and his
companions."
The chair rotated around, and Thrawn faced them fully. "So
this is the infamous pair of Ranma Saotome and Ryoga Hibiki,
who are worth over one million universal credits, each, to
the Coalition States." Thrawn's voice was smooth, even, and
gave no indication of emotion.
"W-What can we do for you, Admiral," Ranma stammered.
"Science Division would like a word with the two of you." A
faint smile crossed his lips as Ranma and Ryoga began to
sweat. "But only for an interview and a few scans. I
explained to them sometime between the third dragon and the
fifth new race encounter that there are to be no involuntary
dissections of allies. What I want now is for the lot of
you to explain why you need to borrow a flight of
Veritechs."
For the next half hour, a summary of where they were going
and to do what was told. Thrawn showed no emotion through
it all, though Cortez was often wearing an expression of
disbelief.
"So," Thrawn said when they had completed their story,
"Miang and the demon knight are moving to rendezvous with
the Four Horsemen."
"The what?" Ranma blurted out, his interruption earning him
a glare.
"The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Several survivor
stories we have heard match the visions that the
Meta-Sensory Division has received. Given that, I am
tempted to authorize an entire squadron to investigate, or
perhaps a full wing."
"With all due respect Admiral," Emeralda said, "you know
that isn't a good idea."
"Correct. For the same reason you will not be taking any of
your gears, formidable as they are. They would attract too
much attention. Therefor, I am authorizing a single flight
group, two Legios units, for your use. It, and the
remainder of the squadron, will be escorting a shuttle to
our outpost on the other side of the Atlantic. You will be
on that shuttle. The shuttle and squadron, except your
escort, will return immediately. If there is no other
business, you are dismissed."
Pleasantries were exchanged once more, and the companions
were escorted out. Once outside, Conner and Catti-brie
began to shiver.
"I will never," Conner said, "get used to that stare."
Catti-brie, Ranma, and Ryoga nodded.
Drizzt just shrugged. "What is next?"
Conner checked his chrono. "Well, we'd better get to the
large landing pad, we have a friend coming to pick us up in
about ten minutes."
"Pick us up?" Ryoga asked. "Where are we going?"
"We're dealing with an enemy that can shift bodies upon
death," Conner replied. "There are some countermeasures
available, and we are going to use them. I'd rather not be
forced to kill someone I care about." A haunted look
appeared in his eyes as he turned away. "Not again," he
whispered.
*******
It was big, over twice the size of a Beta Veritech. It was
blue, with some red as trim and a stripe just above the
face. It was headed toward them very fast.
And on top of robot's head, an ash haired young woman sat,
somehow controlling the monstrosity. Nimble as a
jackrabbit, the thing oriented itself upright, and set down
on the tarmac. Kneeling down, it extended a hand to the
ground at an angle. The woman on top slid down the arm to
the ground. When she hit the ground Ranma saw that the
girl, and she was several years younger than him, was
wearing an orange jumpsuit and aviator goggles.
"We asked for a ride, Maria," Emeralda scolded the girl,
"not Seibzehn."
"I volunteered," Maria replied. "Besides, I wanted to see
something."
"What's that, squirt?" Conner asked.
Marie glared at Conner, then pulled a flask from her belt.
"This," she explained, tossing the flask onto Ranma.
"Wow," she commented, marveling at the transformation.
Ignoring the redhead's glare, Maria addressed the group.
"After hearing the reason for wanting to go to Shevat, we
just decided to save you the trouble and bring the equipment
out here."
"Who is 'we?'" Emeralda asked.
"'We,'" a voice came from Seibzehn's shoulders, "consist of
myself, Queen Zephyr, and Elly." With a grunt, a tall man in
green and white clothing dropped down, carrying some
equipment on his back. "Besides, after hearing about Mr.
-or is it Miss?- Saotome, Elly commented that, and I quote,
'another hotshot martial artist in the city might be
dangerous,' end quote."
Emeralda moved over to the man to give him a friendly hug.
"It's good to see you, Citan."
Citan smiled. "You have been away for a while, my dear."
"Did you being the stuff?" Conner asked.
"Of course," Citan replied. "I have the inhibitor units and
the calibration system."
"In that case," Pirotess said, "let's move to a better
area. We need to get this over with."
*******
On the way to the labs, they passed one of the mess halls.
Thinking she had heard a familiar voice, Ranma poked her
head in.
"Okay," a tall man in bland, civilian clothes said, "how
about this. 'Greatest military mind in the Megaverse. Nice
guy, so long as you don't piss him off.'"
"Said something like that already," said a shorter man in a
cheap suit, "under Drizzt Do'Urden. Besides, that lacks
style. I prefer 'the last person to cross him is floating
somewhere in the vicinity of the Southern Cross
constellation.'"
"Whatever, just send it in and get it over with."
Ranma shook her head as he continued down the hall, the
incident soon forgotten.
*******
"So what does this thing do?" Deedlit asked a few minutes
later.
The "thing" in question was a medium sized computer attached
to some kind of sensor pack. On the table next to it lay a
quartet of small objects.
"That," Citan explained, "is the scanner and calibration
unit. The objects on the table are the nullifiers
themselves. They are a magical devices, but use
conventional technology to regulate the energy."
"Techno-wizardry," Pirotess clarified.
"Exactly," Citan said. "I designed them myself, actually.
I am relatively new to the practice, but such things
fascinate me."
"So, doc," Ranma asked, "will it work?"
"In theory, yes."
"In theory?" the simultaneous reply came from most of the
group.
"Yes. If it works, then Miang would not be able to posses a
person wearing the inhibitor. However, we do not know if
she had tried to take over one of those people, so there is
no guarantee."
"Better safe than sorry," Emeralda said.
"Why don't you have one?" Ranma asked.
In response, a small section of Emeralda's clothing just
below her neckline dissolved. The skin under it seemed to
melt away as well, revealing a small device like the one's
on the table.
"Forget I asked."
"Now," Citan continued, "the four of you must have the
inhibitors calibrated in order for them to work."
"Why do we need it calibrated?" Ranma asked. "And there are
only three women in this group."
"It requires calibration so your own abilities are not
inhibited along with Miang's possession abilities. And
there are four, Deedlit, Pirotess, Catti-brie, and you."
"Hell, no! I'm a guy," Ranma asserted.
"In mind and spirit, mostly," Citan explained. "However, in
body you spend a portion of your time physically female.
The scientists here will most likely confirm it, but I am
guessing that you are also genetically female as well. That
is what allows Miang to take over a body, any body. Even
Emeralda is vulnerable, and she is... rather unique. Now
hold still, this won't take long."
Ranma grumbled, but sat still as a crystal probe held in
front of her began to glow. The glow faded after a moment,
and the computer on the table beeped. Citan handed one of
the small devices to Ranma. Finally seeing one up close,
she noted that it was really a type of small, green jewel,
surrounded by black metal and circuitry. The process was
repeated three times. At the end Citan that they should try
to keep the devices in close proximity at all times.
*******
"It a shame," Ranma said as he watched Maria prep Seibzehn
for launch.
"What's a shame?" Deedlit asked.
"I was hoping to see how I'd do against Fei. From what
Emeralda has told us, I think he'd be a challenge."
"Does it really matter?"
"Not really, I just thought it would be fun."
"Indeed," Citan said from behind him, "it would be
interesting to watch. But keep something in mind, young
one. Fei, when he is at his peek, would be able to defeat a
Gladiator-class Destroid in hand to hand combat. In his
gear, he would be able to destroy Siebzehn twice over."
"As I said," Ranma replied, "it might be fun."
Before Citan could make a comment on Ranma's sanity,
Emeralda interrupted.
"Citan," she asked, "do you know whom the base commander is
where we're going?"
"Yes."
"Oh? Who? Is it anyone I know?"
"You will find out when you get there. When you get there,
give him my greetings." Further conversation was eliminated
as Citan leaped up Seibzehn's arm, finding a convenient spot
on the shoulder. With an explosion of sound, the giant gear
launched, flying to the northern horizon.
"Don't tell me you fly one of those things," Ryoga said to
Emeralda.
"I do," was the response, "but not as big."
There was silence for a moment.
"Then how come we've never seen it?" Ranma dared to ask.
"It's a little too big to use all the time. Maybe I'll show
it to you when we get back."
Conner began walking back toward the tower. "Come on, we
still have preparations to make. We're leaving tomorrow at
0900."
The companions walked back towards their quarters,
determined, but not eager, to be ready to leave in the
morning.
******
The early morning sun warmed six of the companions as they
waited for the last two of their friends to arrive.
"We should have know they'd be late," Deedlit sighed. "They
can never resist 'one last round.'" Pirotess nodded her
agreement.
A shout from high above drew their gazes toward the tower's
hanger.
"C'mon, pig-boy, this is the fastest way down. Trust me."
"Ranma! Wait!"
Two shapes leaped out of the hanger. The red and black
streak began to glow about halfway down, slowing the descent
to a crawl just before impact. The yellow and black shape
had no such power, and created a rather large crater on the
landing pad.
>From the crater came a mumble. "You were supposed to extend
the flight spell to cover me."
Ranma shrugged. "Oops."
"We don't have time for this," Conner said, stepping between
the two. If a normal person had been standing there, the
two may have delayed their fight so the person would not get
killed. However, Conner was almost as tough as Ranma
(though by birth, not training), so he was all but ignored.
Seeing how his mediations were not getting though, Conner
went to plan B.
"We're leaving," he said, drawing a pair of pistols and
pointing one at each youth. "Understand?"
Both Ranma and Ryoga nodded and followed the others toward a
shuttle that was being readied for launch. As they reached
the ramp, figure dropped down from the shuttle's nose. They
saw it was a brown haired bear of a man in a pilot's
uniform. After exchanging a few words with the maintenance
personnel, he turned and walked up the ramp, given a slight
nod to the companions. Conner led them to the passenger
compartment, and turned on the intercom. Instantly, the
cabin was filled with voices.
A deep voice was talking to the controllers. "Roger, we are
prepped for launch."
"Hey, Templar," commented a flippant man, "what are you
doing flying a delivery truck?"
"Lost my jet in that three way furball last week. Command
hasn't gotten me a new one yet."
"Don't worry," the second voice cooed, "we won't let the
big, bad Invid near that nice, shinny target you're flying."
"I should remind you, Maestro, that this 'target' is
carrying ordinance for your jet once we get to our
destination. I could arrange for your share to get dumped
into the ocean."
"Enough," an almost mechanical voice interrupted, "we're
ready to launch. Templar, you're fist. Stiletto, your
flight is next, escort formation. The rest of us will be
hanging back, in case there's trouble."
"Acknowledged, Spyder. Engines fired up."
What followed was a gradually increasing rumble. When the
rumble reached it's peak, the companions were pressed back
in their seats as their stomachs were left two kilometers
back on the runway.
"The ride may be a little bumpy," the pilots voice came over
the intercom, "you might want to buckle up."
"Thanks a bunch pal," Ranma said, peeling himself off the
back wall. There was an odd type of greenish goo attached
sticking to his body and the wall. Before he could comment
on it, a head formed out of the goo on his chest.
"Pick your jaw up off the floor," Emeralda said, "and move
over to that spot on the wall." Doing so, Ranma watched the
goo flow off the wall to join the stuff stuck to him. Out
of that formed Emeralda, looking annoyed. "Next time,
buckle your harness. That's what it's there for."
*******
<Somewhere over the Mediterranean Sea>
The gurgoyles in the transport were getting on Ashram's
nerves. They were rowdier than a horde of orcs, and made
enough noise to wake someone ten years dead. Not only that,
they decided that he and Miang were easy targets for taunts,
threats, and outright hostility. They were half and hour
into their flight, with another hour to go, when Ashram
finally snapped.
Ignoring Miang's protests, Ashram walked over to the
loudest, crudest, and most insulting of the sub-demons.
"My companion and I wish peace and quiet for this trip. We
would appreciate it if you would be shut up."
The gurgoyle laughed. "Leave us, foolish human," it growled
in passable English, "and be glad we do not eat you. But, I
don't think you'd make a very good meal. Though your
companion may be good for entertainment."
Miang's flash of anger became a smile as Ashram tore the
demon limb from limb. After stacking the parts in the
center of compartment, he returned to his seat. All was
quiet; none of the other demons dared to disturb either of
them.
"I see those enhancements Errtu placed on you still work."
Miang commented.
"Indeed," was Ashram's response.
End Chapter 3
Notes:
1: Please tell me someone can see the joke here.
I make a cameo in this chapter, just for laughs.