[FFML] [Fanfic][Ranma / X-COM] The Road to Cydonia Chapter 31

[Justin Wagner]

As always, Previous chapters of TRTC can be found on FFN
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2314624/1/The_Road_to_Cydonia

or on my site (which also hosts a UFOpedia and Character Info)
http://www.wagnergrp.com/JBW_Website/Fanfiction/TRTC.htm


-----


For six years, mankind has waged a Secret War against an enemy from
Beyond the Stars. In late December of 2006, the two newly formed martial
arts assault squads, India and Juliet, participated in the elimination
of the last major alien base on Earth. With this bastion removed, the
Sirius Conspiracy crushed, and the loss of the Joketsuzoku village
avenged, only one great obstacle remains: the alien command center on
Cydonia, Mars. Only then can Earth be safe. With that great battle
looming ahead of them, India and Juliet also look inward to their
individual hopes and dreams. This is their story.

-----

People are the same everywhere.

Chinese, Laotian, Indonesian, Korean, Mongolian, Japanese. Doesn't
matter. Was stupid to think things would be different here. When certain
types look for cruel sport, animals are the easiest, most obvious prey.
Stupid. Shouldn't have stayed and tried to scare them off. Stupid. Don't
know how to fight in this body but didn't want to lose my pack. Didn't
want anyone to loot around in it.

The one in a black jacket is cursing, stumbling, holding his broken
nose. Wants his teeth back. Can't find 'em in the darkness of the alley.
His friend laughed at first, but now they're both angry. Can feel the
boot of the biggest one holding me down. Combat boots. Can't chew
through them. Can't fight back.

Crushing me.

The three stand over me. Want to know why I'm just glaring up at them.
No sounds. Won't give it to them. The boot crushes my side into the
concrete. A rib finally breaks. Then another. This body is weak. One of
them motions to an aerosol can. Spray paint. Plays with his cigarette.
Says it burns.

Broken ribs send a bolt of pain into my side.

It's gonna be a rough night.

--

Don't know how the hell I got in here.

Some kinda zoo. Got turned around. Saw a sign that mentioned a shower.
Running water usually means hot water, too. Got sloppy. Got stupid. Can
see some people looking down at the large park area with the wildlife.
Think I see one point at me. A woman yells something. My vision isn't
too great in this body. Most of 'em are staring, waiting, watching with
morbid fascination.

They want a show.

Three of the big cats stalk towards me as a leisurely pace.

They want a show?

I'll give them a show.

--

Can't find my pack.

Buried in the avalanche. Can't find it. Can't see it. Least I can smell
it; one good thing about this curse. Ice cold snow clings to my body,
soaking me to the bone. Parka gone. No telling how deeply I'm buried.
Claw through the packed snow. Need to find my pack. Emergency heater in
there. Emergency radio, too.

Cold.

Shivering is getting worse. Small body loses heat faster. Can't move
through the snow as fast. Trouble seeing. Muscles not responding right.
Gotta keep focused. Can't let the mind wander. Dig. Dig. The Pack. Dig.
The surface.

Not good.

Cold.

Snow is white, but everything it dark. Digging wildly. Don't want to
die. Body hurts. So tired. So very tired. So easy, just to give up. Just
to close my eyes and go to sleep. What does it even matter? Why go on?
Hurts. Cold. Alone.

Scared.

Akane?

--

Finally made it; finally found it.

Tendo Dojo.

Didn't think I'd make it in time. Double back a bit, think about it
before I head in. Wanted to just go in as myself, but think better of
it. Put that off for later. Takes almost an hour to decide. Cold water
stings, brings on the change. Its worse when you know its coming; worse
when you do it to yourself.

Put my stuff away. I know where it is, tucked out of sight for now. Head
in with my presents for Akane. See the sign; no turning back now. Kasumi
is out by the back hanging up laundry. She's wearing a pretty pink dress
and white apron, and she smiles when she sees me. It's the same smile
she always has for the neighbor's dog, even though it digs up the ground
near the wall. The same smile the gentle girl has for any friendly
animal.

I like Kasumi. Always have. She was always kind to me when I'm in this
form, but it was as much forbearance as anything. She was the only one
in the house, except maybe Ranma, who was happier to see Ryouga than P-
chan. Don't think too much about it: too depressing.

Didn't come here to be depressed.

She goes 'Oh, P-chan' and picks me up, tucking me into the crook of her
arm. When she bends over to pick up the presents I dragged into the back
yard: a few boxes of candies from Okinawa I got while training... or was
it Hokkaido? Doesn't matter. When she does it, I can feel the swell of
her breasts pressing into my side from where she holds me, and I blush
at the contact. There's a degree of dissonance, due to how small my body
is. Don't really think of them as breasts so much when I'm like this,
not at first, not like I would if I were human.

She carries me inside; she'll hand me off to Akane so she can get back
to work.

Sounds coming from the living room. The television. Some program I don't
know, don't watch, could never watch. Not with my lifestyle. Nabiki is
walking to the kitchen. She sees us, and me, but I know her attention is
on what I've brought this time. She likes sweets, and Akane always
shares with her (or she just takes what she wants anyway). I note the
boxes with 'from Ryouga' and 'your good and true friend' and stuff like
that. They know who it's from.

And yet they don't.

Nabiki makes a smart remark about where the treats are from this time.
Hawaii? France? Antarctica? Very funny. Don't get that lost.... least I
don't think I do. Certainly never ended up in Antarctica (probably).
She's cordial enough when she knows I'm around. A slight nod, a query
about whether my interest in certain pictures has changed, a request not
to level the dojo this time. I don't mind her, but I am a bit wary.
She's civil, and more importantly, she doesn't know. Smart as she is,
she doesn't know.

Forget about her.

Be careful around her, but forget about her. Akane's there, watching TV.
She's with him. Kasumi calls to them, and Ranma turns his head. He's got
one hand in a bag of potato chips, relaxing in the comfort of this big
warm house, with Kasumi pampering him. When was the last time he spent
hours looking for a soup kitchen or working for his next meal? He glares
at me right off the bat, and I glare right back. It's satisfying to see
him ruffled like this. He's so good at upsetting others, at playing
them, but I can reverse the tables. I can discomfort him.

Yes, and I get a certain mean satisfaction from that. He is my enemy...
or my rival... or whatever. Lately, on the road, I haven't been as
driven as before. Not really. Not like a year ago. Sometimes, the
thought of just putting so much of this behind us crosses my mind, but
then I come back and shit goes down. Maybe it's my fault. Maybe it's
his. Does it matter at this point? So we glare at each other.

There'll be a fight later; it's what we both want anyway.

Akane turns her head, and Ranma disappears. Been waiting for this
moment. There it is: that smile. That smile. Warm and welcoming and
utterly without hesitation or pretense. Genuine. Honest. Never get that
smile when I show up as me, as a man, as Ryouga. She smiles, yes, but
behind it I can see her worry and her doubts. When Ryouga shows up,
either there is trouble, or there will be trouble. Fights follow. Things
break. Sometimes people get hurt. Wish... I wish it wasn't like that.
But it is. It just is.

But for P-chan, she smiles.

She doesn't really mind how P-chan pisses Ranma off. She enjoys it as
much as I do. The unflappable, mighty Ranma Saotome. P-chan is her
weapon as much as mine. Jealous of an animal, Ranma? Kasumi hands me
over, like a plush toy, and Akane embraces me. Kasumi says something
about what I brought, but I don't hear her. I'm in another place. It's
warm and comforting and loving. Somebody loves me. Somebody wants me.
Somebody is waiting for me. Somebody wants me.

Don't I deserve at least that?

Ranma makes a snide remark about 'Ryouga being back in town.' He's
provoking me, and the words snap me out of my reverie. The fear of
exposure, of the truth, always has my attention. Akane, bless her, is
oblivious and asks how Ranma could know that. Ranma replies that it was
just an educated guess. In Akane's arms, I watch them. Once snapped out
of that one perfect moment, it always goes downhill.

Always.

Been worse the last few times. Akane squeezes me tight, and I feel my
tiny back pressed against her. Don't really want it to be intimate.
Don't want to sully it. Think chaste thoughts. Gets worse. Moment fades.
Start to regret it. Maybe I should have come as myself. Maybe I should
stop this charade. Maybe I should...

But I can't.

Because if I do, deep down I know Ranma Saotome is probably going to win
again, and if I lose this fight, I won't have anything left. 'Maybe next
time,' is the thought. Lies. Lies to myself. Lies to her. This isn't how
I want it to be. This is what I have to settle for.

Wish I lived here as a man, and not as a pet. Wish I got that smile when
I came home. Wish she hugged me when I was me. Wish I could sit,
watching TV and eating potato chips. Wish I wasn't alone. Wish I had his
life.

We'll fight again today.

I'll stick around for a while and then leave.

Hate this place.

--

Akari holds me in her arms.

"Ryouga-sama..."

Is this what it means to be loved as a man?

-----

The Road to Cydonia
Chapter XXXI
Aftermath

-----

Written by:
Capn Chryssalid
jbraveboy at gmail.com

-----

The Avenger fighter-transport provided a smooth ride; so much so that it
was almost impossible to tell when it accelerated, banked, or
encountered turbulence. The gravity engines made hardly a whisper,
bathing the main cabin in an almost eerie serenity. It was like stepping
into a waiting room, waiting for an hour, and emerging on another
continent. The experience had been a little disconcerting at first
compared to spending hours on a plane or days on a fishing boat, getting
from one island to another.

Ryouga sat with his face buried in one hand. Field bandages covered much
of his torso and both of his arms. His body had taken enough abuse to
kill two dozen ordinary men, but he could soldier through that. He
didn't mind pain. He didn't mind discomfort. It was his mind that
betrayed weakness, now. His mind and his heart.

Nearly lost in the memories forcibly returned to him, thanks to Hollow
Eyes and Cologne, he hardly heard or felt much else. He was vaguely
aware that Kuno and Mousse were playing cards with Ryu to pass time. He
was vaguely aware that Ukyou was hovering over the still unconscious
Konatsu with Ranma and Shampoo. He knew he was zoning out, but he had to
get his thoughts back into order.

At least Akane wasn't here.

P-chan's memories were a melange of the horrible and the haunting. It
had brought so much misery to his life: so much fear and pain and
humiliation and uncertainty, but mixed in with all that had been a few
short memories of comfort and acceptance and love. He had gladly
abandoned all of those memories before, and having them back, he wished
he could offload them again. P-chan was a cancer in his life: a
concentrated reminder of his weaknesses and failings as a man, and as a
martial artist.

Despite his conflicted thoughts, he never let even an iota of depressed
or enraged ki escape from the prison of his flesh. He felt it circle
uncomfortably around his abdomen before separating back into its
constituent yin and yang. Using a pranayama breathing technique that
adapted the ujjayi or "ocean" breathing for ki circulation, Ryouga
reigned in his aura. Inhaling and exhaling trough the nose, he regulated
the magnitude and length of every breath with only his diaphragm. He
could feel it working in his throat, and knew that not a hint of wispy
black or green ki escaped via his mouth.

Ryouga thought back to the alien-human hybrid Doppelganger of himself
that he had fought before, and how its own internalized ki had built up
to the point where the hate and rage had been forced to boil out of its
mouth. He had come close to going down that same path only to pull back
at the last moment. He knew he had to master these feelings before they
dominated and destroyed what few precious bits of an actual life he had
managed to cobble together over the last few months. Unlike the
Doppelganger, he had things he didn't want to lose. He couldn't afford
to just throw it all away and become one with the maelstrom of
bitterness and fury they both felt.

He was better than that.

"Lieutenant?"

Ryouga opened his eyes and inclined his head to the speaker.

"Something wrong, Mousse?"

The myopic martial artist pushed up the glasses over his eyes with his
thumb. They weren't as thick as his old coke bottle knockoffs, only
being about half as thin as the tip of a finger, but they caught the
light and hid Mousse's eyes from view. Like all of them, he'd removed
the upper half of his armor, leaving only an undershirt. He'd escaped
the battle under the mountain with relatively few injuries.

He leaned in closer, conspiratorially.

"You got them back," he whispered. "Didn't you?"

Ryouga blinked in surprise. "How did...?"

"I may not see too well, but I'm not blind," the Chinese martial artist
replied. "I can almost always feel something when I'm around you. Some
trace of your fighting spirit. But right now, you're keeping it all
inside."

The lost one smiled thinly.

"Mm," Ryouga grunted in acknowledgement. Mousse couldn't distinguish the
love of his life from a statue of a tanuki with his eyes, but when he
wanted to, his other senses and knowledge could more than compensate.

"You're right," the lost one said; there was no point trying to hide it.
"But I don't think you need to worry. They had those memories of mine
from the beginning but you were never abducted. You should be safe."

Mousse nodded silently.

"P-chan..." the near sighted fighter said it very quietly. "Was it
really that bad? Shampoo and I both became animals, too."

Ryouga gave his comrade in arms a sidelong glance.

"Shampoo cooked me and tried to fed me to Ranma," he said it without
anger. It was simply a statement of fact. "She cooked me, Mousse. In an
oven. I was in there for four hours."

Mousse felt a sweatdrop run down the side of his forehead. He had turned
into a duck; he knew the fear of someone treating you like food.
Fortunately, he had never really worried too much about it. He had his
knives, even in his cursed form, and he could always just fly to get
away. Besides, if push came to shove, he was pretty sure that Cologne
and Shampoo wouldn't have just let him be killed.

Four hours in an oven and he survived?

Ryouga chuckled darkly at that moment, interrupting Mousse's thoughts
before he could really imagine what that must have been like. The lost
boy rested his head on his hand, eyes closed.

"By the end of it, I was in a meditative coma. If she'd taken a knife to
me when she took me out, or jabbed me with a temperature gauge, or even
put me in for another hour, I'd definitely have died."

Mousse couldn't imagine it being one of the more enviable deaths to have
either.

"You don't... hold it against her?" he asked, a little tentatively.
Ryouga didn't seem to begrudge Shampoo anything. If he did, he never
acted on it, or at least he hadn't after losing the memories of his time
in his cursed form. But now that those memories were back, would that
change?

Mousse felt he needed to know for sure.

"Hold it against her? Not really," the lieutenant responded with a
shrug. "She didn't know it was me, and if I held a grudge against
everyone and everything that ever tried to kill me in my cursed form,
I'd have... a lot of enemies. Too many."

Mousse felt a stab of shame as he remembered how once, after a fight
with the lost boy (that he had lost), he had threatened to tell Akane
about his curse and turn him into Cantonese Shredded Pork. It had been a
bitter, angry remark and he hadn't meant it. It was bad taste to even
joke about something like that, especially from one Jyusenkyou cursed
individual to another.

It was like "joking" about raping Ranma just because he was a girl half
the time. No matter how much they had hated each other, no matter how
much they fought, none of them were truly sadistic. An honorable death
was something every martial artist understood and accepted and even
looked forward to (after a long life, of course). For one of them,
though, that ultimate fear and humiliation had actually been a terrible
reality.

"There's a lot I'd like to forget," Ryouga said after a couple seconds
of long silence. "And there are things... I'd like to be forgiven for."

Mousse knew, right away, what that meant.

He sighed... and elbowed his commanding officer hard in the ribs.

"Hey!" Ryouga growled.

"She'll forgive you," Mousse said, grinning. "She'll probably beat you
up a little, but she'll forgive you. And if she doesn't, then fuck her!
You've got plenty of friends who know all about it and who don't give a
damn!"

Ryouga couldn't help it: he smiled.

"I hope so." Then he elbowed Mousse back. "But don't talk about Akane
like that. Man, I can't believe you even just said that."

Mousse laughed boisterously. "Come on, what do I care!? Was I like the
one guy in Nerima who didn't want to bone her or what?"

"Jesus Christ, Mousse!" Ryouga tried desperately to suppress the next
few laughs. Luckily, their new English speaking compatriots had been
quick to pass on some choice slang. "Shut up already!"

But the Chinese boy couldn't, not when he felt he was on a roll.

"I'm just saying, lieutenant: Nerima girls. Not my type." He looked up
wistfully, as if lost in thought and nostalgia. "There's warrior women
and then there's crazy chicks. Most of the Japanese girls I met around
you guys were the latter."

Ryouga knew Mousse was just talking to cheer them both up. 'She'll
probably beat you up a little, but she'll forgive you. And if she
doesn't, then fuck her! You've got plenty of friends who know all about
it and who don't give a damn!' He did, didn't he? Ryouga decided then
and there. He could tell her. He could live with the consequences.

The Avenger tore silently through the sky; they were almost home.

-----

Western Oregon, United States of America

Northern Village Gated Community

Pantyhose Taro savored another long slurp from his large coke, not
minding in the least the loud noises made through the thick plastic
straw. The soda was ice cold and delicious; just the thing to wash down
the toasted footlong sandwich (a "sub" the Americans called it) he had
finished a moment before. Piled high with lettuce, tomatoes, green
peppers, red onions and generously garnished with oil, vinegar and extra
oregano, it had truly hit the spot. Restaurants like this were popular
here in the States, and Taro wondered if he'd ever be able to find ones
like it when - if - he went back to China.

Life here was good.

He had a little light training in the morning, some half hearted
schooling to make up for his truancy back home (who needed it anyway?),
and plenty of time to relax. He even had a nice little apartment of his
own in one of the buildings. It was "little" by American standards
perhaps, but huge and luxurious compared to any place he'd stayed in
before. He had his own bed, bathroom, kitchen, his own TV and his own
magnetic key to the door. All he lacked was a car, which would have been
moot since it was forbidden to leave.

It was a truly cushy lifestyle. He wasn't the only martial artist in the
gated community either. Quite a few had been rounded up and transferred
into protective custody over the last few months, and now settled down,
they even had their own little mini-community that some of the more
enterprising had set up. There was a large open park area in the center
of the village for sports and open air movies, and some of the more
outgoing martial artists had put on a welcome show for the locals to
introduce themselves.

Taro had, of course, chosen to sit by the sidelines. Just because he
liked it here didn't mean that he wanted to become some kind of showman
or celebrity. His thoughts were on how he could turn this situation to
his advantage. He'd already written off the idea of fighting against
these monstrous "aliens" that Herb had mentioned. As if he would risk
his life in a dangerous fight like that when there were plenty of others
chomping at the bit to do their part! That was a job for patriots and
suckers, and not necessarily in that order. Not like one more person
risking their life would change the outcome of the battle anyway.

No: he would bide his time and make the most of what came afterwards. He
still wanted his name changed to "Awesome Taro," but with Happosai dead
(or so the aqua-transexual had said) his old village laws would forbid
any legal challenges. With no alternatives, he'd have to just change his
name via other channels. They'd still call him "Pantyhose" back home,
but really, now that he'd gone out in the rest of the world, who cared
what those village idiots thought?

Once he'd gotten his name officially changed, then perhaps he'd wander
for a while, taking what he wanted. Or take up some light bodyguard
work. He was a martial artist, but he didn't particularly care about
that lifestyle or a devotion to the Art. He was just naturally good at
it, and found it useful to be able to beat up people he didn't like (or
people who were just in his way). There was a strong underground fight
circuit back in China, and maybe here in the States, too. He could clean
up; it was easy money.

Munching on a warm cookie, Taro watched a pair of girls in jeans walk
in. They were high-school students, Americans, the daughters (or maybe
younger sisters) of various soldiers, engineers or scientists who worked
for "the company." That company, of course, being the same organization
that shuttled him across the Pacific and that had some powerful
individuals on its payroll. The blonde girl of the pair was so-so in
terms of looks, but the other, the red-head, was definitely worth
mentally undressing. Enjoying himself immensely, Taro didn't so much as
notice the shadow that loomed up behind him.

At least until she laughed.

"OHOHOHOHOHO!!"

Taro's eyes grew wide, and he instantly bolted for the door.

He'd barely gotten half way to freedom when a violet colored ribbon made
its first circuit around his upper torso. In the blink of an eye it
coiled around his entire upper body, pinning his arms to his sides. The
binding cloth was tighter and stronger than it appeared, constricting
him like a snake and dragging him off to dispatch. With an abrupt yank,
Taro felt himself flying back in the direction from which he came,
twirling madly through the air. Seeing a chance for escape, he tried to
snatch the half full cup of coke he'd left on the table with his feet.

Only to have a dainty hand grab it away a second before his feet got
there.

"Damn!" Taro snarled before landing right back on his chair. Sighing, he
leaned back until his head was against the back of the chair. Staring up
he saw the refined face of his assailant.

"Hello, Kodachi," he grumbled. "What is it this time?"

Kodachi Kuno was certainly pretty enough for his tastes, in fact, she
more than exceeded his personal criteria. She had long, dark rich hair,
perfect pink lips and large brown eyes. She also had a great body. It
was an almost perfect package. Pity she was kind of a deranged lunatic.
A deranged lunatic with a nice ass... Truly it was a deadly combination.

She leaned over to whisper in his ear. "You seem to have forgotten our
date last night, darling Pantyhose."

"Don't call me Pantyhose!" He snarled, struggling against the ribbon
currently holding him pinned to the chair. The giggling and pointing of
the two American girls from before only further pissed him off. Fuming,
beet faced, he glowered at the rich girl. At least she wasn't in her
leotard, instead wearing some local clothes.

"Lovers shouldn't quarrel in such a public place!" she announced all-too
loudly, pausing only to laugh contemptuously, covering her mouth with
her free hand. The sound of it sent a shiver down Taro's spine.

"Why you...!"

Before he could finish cursing the crazy girl out, Kodachi slipped a
hand sensually around his shoulder. Looking down at it, he saw a small
plastic tube held between her thumb and middle finger. God only knew
what sort of poison was in that vial. A few beats of sweat began to
collect on his brow.

"You were saying...?" Kodachi whispered.

"I was saying... why... you... how nice to see you?"

"How sweet of you!" She kissed him on the cheek. "Now, let us take a
romantic stroll!"

Flipping gracefully over the table, she tugged along her gymnastic
ribbon, tossing him effortlessly through the air. Laughing maniacally,
they exited the restaurant in a flurry of black rose petals. This time,
Taro managed to land on his feet, and hastily tried to keep up with the
prancing gymnast.

"Come, Pantyhose!" She gave him another tug, and he narrowly avoided
falling into a drift of snow. Growling angrily at another thwarted
opportunity to activate his Jyusenkyou curse and escape, he grudgingly
followed her.

"Now why did you miss our date?" she asked cutely. "I was so upset!"

Taro just grumbled something unintelligible.

"Bear in mind that your answer may determine your state of health for
the next week or so," she added, holding up the plastic vial from a
moment ago.

"masatarty," he grumbled again.

"Hmmmm?" she asked, leaning closer to him. "Speak up, darling."

He sighed. "I was at a party."

"A party? How droll!" She laughed again, haughy and condescending. "And
why didn't I know of this! We could have gone together and mingled with
the common people!"

"Maybe because you're crazy and scary?" he asked with a straight face.

She said nothing for a second, before bursting into another mad laugh. A
second later, Taro flew face first into a metal lamp post. It was cold,
too. Sliding down the lamp post with an audible "squeek" Taro fell
backwards onto the ground, shaking a few bits of ice and snow from his
wavy hair.

"Such off color humor you have, my beautiful gaijin!" she said between
laughs. "Kuno Kodachi is the life of every party! Why, remember that one
get together when I spiked the punch with that aphrodisiac?"

Taro chuckled villainously. That had been fun.

Then he shook his head. No amount of fun was worth this.

"After you beg for my forgiveness, darling, you can make it up to me by
helping me train for my match with that boorish Natsume girl." Kodachi
started skipping along, waving him to and fro in the air like a kid with
a balloon. "I've need for a new practice dummy! OHOHOHOHOHO!"

Tied up and at her mercy, Taro silently cursed.

There had to be easier ways to get laid.

-----

Seiran

It was a strange thing, to stare at one's own severed head.

Off putting was another word for it. Saffron's hate filled eyes, frozen
in a mask of impotent fury and mad rage, stared back at him through the
glass. The flesh, his flesh, was tinted blue and purple as if it had
been beaten instead of simply flash frozen. Still, he found that the
macabre sight seemed to help him concentrate at times.

Saffron stiffened a bit as one of the mental probes bit a little deeply
into his mind. Sitting calmly in his cell, deep within Seiran Mountain's
Alien Containment Facility, the Phoenix King endured the procedures. He
was well aware of his situation, and that given what he had gone
through, any head of state from Burma to Britain would be treated to the
same courtesy. He had no right at this point to complain.

For the most part, he felt nothing. He was only aware of the mentalists
probing his mind because they had informed him of that fact, and even
asked that he sign a contract consenting to the process. They would not
release him else wise. Thus, he simply had to endure it.

Saffron's actual conscious memories of his servitude had been unclear at
first. He had regenerated soon after being defrosted, and found himself
in a strange place surrounded by heavily armed people. It had not been
his home in China. Kiima had fortunately been present to inform him of
what had transpired: that he had been captured and brainwashed (in a
manner of speaking), and that he had been incorporated into some sort of
alien fraternity. It had been difficult to accept at first.

Then, after the first session with the mentalists, the memories started
to return. Prominent among them had been a young woman, a member of that
troublesome Amazon village. Cologne. She had branded him with some sort
of ki seal, and broken him to her will. There had been experiments, too,
at the hands of a man calling himself "Doctor Tofu." He had been aged
artificially to near maturity, and awakened using appropriated
Jyusenkyou Water.

Why had they done this?

Feeling the memories line up, like puzzle pieces, he could feel the
answers begin to form in his mind. He had given himself wholly to the
strange alien fraternity, lured and bewitched by both promises of power
and the seal placed on his head. The seal that was still emblazoned on
his frozen crown. Kiima had explained that no one knew how to remove it,
and that Herb (Saffron sneered at the name) had opted to simply cut off
all the affected parts of Saffron's body. That had included four of his
primary chakra points and everything above the neck.

It was typical of that brutish dragon prince: solve the problem with
force.

Saffron calmed himself, reminding himself that he had Herb and others to
thank for his freedom. The truth was that he still felt something akin
to a longing for what he had lost. Being connected to the great alien
Mind had been an extraordinary and (in a way) liberating experience.