stoner@elycion.geology.ualberta.ca (James Stone)


Ranma 1/2 - Fall of the Eagle
by James Stone
wstone@gpu.srv.ualberta.ca
(c) 1995 Stone Age Productions  All Rights Reserved
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Since there aren't going to be any end notes, I'm going to put my comments on
WHY I'm attempting this lunacy, and the rest of the usual notes and thanks
here.  If you don't want to read them, just skip a bit...I'll try to keep
them short, I promise.  ;>

The background for the idea:  The whole mess sprung from a rather odd
source...Nabiki's diary.  Yes, that's right.  I had been trying for quite
some time to write this, but the idea just wasn't coming along.  So, there I
was, pondering HOW I was going to write this, when my mind went off onto one
of the random tangents I'm known for.  The image that came to mind was that
of Nabiki, in a tight, skimpy, slinky evening gown, right out of an old World
War II spy movie.  The next thought I came to was that Nabiki would make a
GREAT femme fatale...and that Ryouga would be a cool tanker, and...and Fall
of the Eagle was born.

I've spent a lot of time on this, and am still spending a lot of time on it. 
It's the biggest thing I've ever tried, and it's both scary, and fun as hell. 
And I couldn't have done it without help from Tori Braybrook and Brian
Johnston, both of whom sat down, listened to my stupid idea, agreed that it
could work, and helped me cast some of the characters in the story.  Also,
Stegan Gagne for his Ministry of Confusion fanfic, which showed me that
Ranma CAN be put into a whole new setting, and still be Ranma; Jeffrey Hosmer
for also listening to my ravings, and concluding that, yes, it cold be done;
and all the proofers out there, who read it over and gave me input.
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England, 1943

	Somewhere over the Atlantic, the the squadron of B-17's rumbled
towards their destination.  The planes were in the USAAF's new olive-drab
paint scheme...the result of hard lessons learnt over France.  The new
Browning machine gun poking from the nose was another lesson...the Nazi's
were getting too good at head-on attacks.  Lack of nose weaponry had
devastated the squadrons sent before them...now, with the new bombers, these
men intended to show those damn Krauts that the Americans were quick
learners.

	But there were so many lessons to be learnt.

	The bomber crews didn't even know they were there until the
"Golden Warrior"s wing exploded.  Before the men in the next plane could even
blink, the massive bomber had disintegrated in an orange cloud of aviation
gasoline.  And then the rest of the rockets began exploding around them.

	Throughout the squadron, crew commanders began shouting frantic
orders to their men, getting them to their guns to watch for the fighters. 
At the same time, as one, they firewalled their engines.  They were so close
to England...surely they couldn't die within sight of their goal?

	Hundreds of eyes swept the skies, trying to spot the smoke grey of
the Germans.  Some watched in anticipation, ready to return  the Germans
the favour they had bestowed on France, and Poland, and England.  But most
watched in fear, realizing that the Germans would be only too happy to kill a
few more Americans before they could bomb the Fatherland.

	Of the latter, one set could be found in the ventral turret of the
lead bomber.  He was a young man, but at 22 he was older than most in the
squadron.  His eyes already stung with tears...he had heard the explosion of
the Golden Warrior, whos pilot he had known since childhood...through school,
basic training, flight school.  The turret operator's eyesight wasn't good
enough to allow him to be a pilot, so he had been assigned the job of
navigator.  But his friend, with the eyesight of a hawk, had been put into
the pilot's seat of his own B-17.  The navigator had cursed fate when he
hadn't been assigned to the Golden Warrior...just as he now cursed himself
for living while his friend died.

	The first sight of the fighters abruptly drove that thought from his
mind.  The bombers had been flying high, above the thick cloud cover that
blanketed southern England.  The German fighters suddenly dove out of the
naked sun, and rose out of these same clouds, the lines of tracer rounds
already beginning to reach out to the bombers.

	Fighters!  Fighters!  And they're SHOOTING at me! part of the
navigator's mind screamed...then it was cut off.  A calmer voice, the voice
of one of his instructors cut it off, leaving no room for argument.  Ju-88,
the voice said.  Two engines, machine guns in the nose and tail.  But the
cockpit is all glass...vunerable to attack.  That's what you aim for.  The
cockpit...glass bubble.  Aim for the cockpit...you'll get the kill.

	The sudden roar of machine guns silenced the instructor.  Who shot
us?  Who shot us?  that hysterical voice demanded.  Then, the navigator
noticed the tingling in his hands, that spread up his arms to the shoulder. 
The stink of cordite burned his nostrils.  And...spiralling down and away
from his ship was a German fighter, Ju-88, with the cockpit bubble shattered.

	"I shot him!" he screamed, not even aware he was still connected to
the planes intercom system.  "By god, I shot him!"  He began to shake in his
harness.  How could he have...he had KILLED them. What had he done?  He had
killed, not in anger, but in cold blood.  How could he live with that...

	His commander's voice broke his thoughts again.  "Allright!!  That's
one less of the bastards to worry about!  Keep shootin' 'em down like that,
boy, and the Krauts'll NEVER stick around OUR area!"

	One?  his mind asked.  One?  But, there were 4...

	Four what? the instructor replied.  Four men?  There were no men in
that.  It was just a machine, ONE machine.  Now there's a whole bunch more
machines out there, son...best take care of them too.

	But...

	Don't talk back to me son!  It was one machine!  Now go out there and
do your job!

	The navigator hesitated...then turned back to his job...killing
machines.  He had no idea how long the battle lasted...it seemed an eternity. 
A German would approach...he'd fire his .50 cal's at it, trying to drive it
away, or kill it.  He'd succeed in driving it away, another would follow it. 
A second German fell, to another bomber.  The last plane in his own flight
suddenly burst into flames, diving towards the sea.  No parachutes.  10 more
men to replace.

	Something caught his eye, coming from the front!  He sput his turret
around to the new threat, but...it was a single-engined plane!  They were in
range of the Messerschmits?!  The newcomer dove at one of the other German
planes, and a burst of flame tore from its wings.  The big German's wing
suddenly caught fire, and it plummeted.  Why were the Germans shooting at
each other?  What was...and then the realization exploded in his head.

	The new plane was a British Spitfire.  They were in British air
cover.

	He was safe.

	Second Lieutenant Toufuu Ono sat back in his harness and began to
shake as he realized what had just happened.  Here, in the sky 4000
kilometers from home, men in machines had tried to kill him...to defend
himself, he had used his own machine to kill them.  Just two years before he
had been an intern medical student, studying not only the conventional
medical arts, but the more exotic ones, such as acupuncture, and specialized
shiatsu techniques as well.  Now here he was, over the Atlantic Ocean (here
the anylitical part of his mind took over, and told him that he must be over
England by now), defying everything he had believed in as a medical student.  
But...but the reports coming from Germany and Japan were worse.  He couldn't
stand by and watch.  As a martial artist, he felt it was his duty to actively
fight evil.  And so, here he was, 4000 kilometers...

	The voice of his commander broke his reviere.  "Hey, Doc!  You fall
asleep back there or something?  The Krauts are gone, man.  Now get us home!"

	Home.  Home was on the other side of the Atlantic.  But, he unbuckled
himself from his harness and lowered himself down to his navigators station,
plotting out the route to Kitty Field, the new home of the 436th Squadron,
58th Air Wing of the USAAF...the "Blue Thunder" Squadron.

Somewhere over France, the same day

	Lieutenant Ranma Saotome was feeling distinctly uncomfortable.  His
face was sweaty, his eyes wide and covered with a flat sheen.  His breathing
was quick and rapid, the few movements he made were jerky.  The other men
sitting beside him on the transport were giving him strange looks...part
amusement, part pity.  All of them had felt the same thing once.  It was
always the same...you just learned to hide it better.  But it was all there;
the compound fear coming from knowing that you were flying in an old
transport aircraft, well below the altitude it was meant to fly at, over
territory that was not only full of very hostile enemies, but also only-
slightly-less-hostile 'allies'.  It wasn't helped by the crowded conditions
on the plane...each man was wearing over 100 pounds of equipment, and there
were ten of them aboard.  Also, as one senior warrant officer thought, being
the only American on the aircraft wasn't helping the young sir any.  But...
they were all wrong.  All of that fear was there for Ranma...but he had
learned to hide THAT.  It was something infinitely worse.

	It was the cat.

	Ranma had no idea of who's idea of a sick joke it was to make the
mascot of this transport aircraft a small cat with odd pink fur, but he
certainly didn't find it funny.  Mabye, he thought to himself as the cat
wandered away for awhile, they used the cats to 'encourage' those who got
last minute cold feet.  They certainly wouldn't have to 'ask' him twice...

	"Five minutes to drop" the pilots voice blared over the intercom. 
Numb, moving on autopilot, Ranma rose with the others, clipping the ripcord
of his parachute to the line running down the length of the cargo hold.  As
the second-in-command of this mission, he would be the last to leave.  Just
his luck, he grumbled...leave me here with the cat...

	The door opened suddenly, and the noise of the engines and wind
roared into the cabin.  No time to think...just go!  One by one, the men in
front of Ranma jumped...seven...eight...nine...GO!

	Ranma leapt from the door of the plane.  A second later, his ripcord
jerked away, his chute flaring open above him.  His eyes picked out the other
nine chutes below, the first already nearing the forest.  He made a few
adjustments to the spill vents on his chute, allowing him to land a little
closer to the rest of the squad.  He had time to pray that there was no
water, some little puny stream, waiting for him down there...THAT would be
rather difficult to explain...and then he was in the trees.

	Five minutes later he was with the rest of the squad, ferverently
digging a small hole, throwing his parachute into it, then covering it up and
camoflauging it.  Another fifteen minutes found him jogging at the tail of
the group towards their rendevouz point, British-made submachine gun held
close to his body.

	It only took them twenty minutes to reach the rendevouz point.  Cat
or no, Ranma grumbled to himself, that crew was damn good.  The point
appeared empty.  The British Captain leading the group made a quick
decision...spread out and wait.  Ranma found a likely spot to hide himself,
and headed off to it.

	As Ranma got closer to his selected hiding spot, he silently grew
more and more pleased with himself.  It was perfect!  A clear field of fire
down the path they had just travelled, the only access to it was either
through that field, or through a tight crawl of thorn bushes on one side. 
Ranma headed for that.  He dropped to his knees and began to crawl through. 
Jeez, he grumbled to himself.  Tight fit.  Almost like someone has used it
before.  That thought made him grin in the darkness.  Well, undoubtedly,
someone had in the past.  La Resistance must have used this place as a
rendevouz before.  Not very professional of them, he thought as his hand came
down on something soft and warm.

	Both Ranma and his unseen companion uttered nearly silent screams at
the same time.  Ranma's left hand was already bringing the SMG forwards, to
deal with the threat, when a fist spiraled out of the darkness into his eye.

	Knocked back out of the hideaway by the blow, Ranma brought his gun
around, and transfered it to his right hand as he crashed to the ground.  He
already had it leveled at the hideaway, and his finger was tightening on the
trigger, when a soft metallic rattle caused him to look up briefly.  What he
saw was very bad.  Four large, man-shaped figures stood around him, at least
one, and most probably all, of them pointing some kinda of weapon at him. 
Ranma fell back again, letting the SMG fall from his hands to the dirt beside
him.

	"Allright, I surrender," he said wearily, putting his hands in front
of him, in plain sight.  His voice caused the men to start.  They looked at
each other, and began muttering quickly in French to each other.

	French?  Then they weren't...they were...?

	"Sarah," a voice suddenly whispered from the bushes nearby.  The
Captain's voice?

	"Angel," one of the men standing over him replied to the bushes.  A
feeling of relief suddenly washed through Ranma as the Captain stepped out of
the bushes, soon followed by others of his squad.  The Frenchman standing
closest to Ranma shouldered his weapon, and gave him his hand.  Ranma
gratefully accepted it, and pulled himself up.  His good feeling rapidly
evaporated, as the Frenchman in the bushes stepped out, and stood looking at
him silently.  Ranma blushed in embarrasment.  It HAD been a little too
perfect.  Obviously, these guys had been here for awhile, had time to make
everything perfect.  And Ranma had blundered into one of their hideouts,
cocky, and almost blown it.  He looked down, unable to look at the figure.

	The figure studied him for a moment, then said one word, in English. 
"Come."  The figure began to move off down the trail, with the Captain, the
squad, and the rest of the resistance fighters in tow.

	Ranma moved off last again, taking his position.  As they jogged, he
thought about that one word.  The voice that has said it had sounded...odd. 
It SEEMED masculine, but, was just a little too....  Ranma shrugged it off,
and turned his attention to the figure itself.  It was quite a bit smaller
than the rest of them...(although NOT, his mind thought grimly, smaller than
HER).  It also moved rather oddly...a strange combination of fluidity when
needed, and clumsiness when it seemed it wasn't.  Ranma shrugged that off
too.  Probably a bookkeeper, enraged by the occupation of his country, who
had become what was necessary...God knew he had seen it before...

	Outside a small shack, they stopped.  The little Frenchman at the
front whispered something to the shack...it responded, and a moment later,
the door opened just a crack.  They entered slowly, each man being checked at
the door.  Thus, when Ranma finally got inside, the little man was nowhere
to be seen.  Everyone else seemed to be here though...stripping out of their
uniforms, relaxing a bit, talking softly...one of the Frenchman seemed to say
something about food...FOOD?

	Ranma's thoughts left anything to do with strange small Frenchman,
and concentrated wholly on the problem of identifying the source of that
remark.  Ah, there.  And...was that...STEW?  It was.  With the vigour of a
man who has eaten only rations or mess food for months, Ranma dove into the
rabbit stew like a man possessed.  Ah, these Frenchmen were wonderful people. 
Providing food for their allies to help them fight the Nazi's...truly, France
was the most hospitable of countries.

	A plate of stew, a cup of water, and many words later, Ranma sat
relaxing outside the shack.  They had been told that they could go outside,
but they had to be extra-quiet, no smoking, low-voice talking only.  Well,
Ranma didn't smoke, and he was the only one out here to talk to anyways. 
Then movement caught his eye.  Eh?  What was...it was him!  The little guy! 
He was walking just around the corner of the shack, apparently here for the
same reason Ranma was, to get some peace and fresh air.  Ranma pushed himself
up slowly.  Why not?  Might as well find out who this guy was.

	He made his way over to where he was standing soundlessly.  He opened
his mouth, and was shocked to hear that odd voice say, "Bon soir, Monsieur
American."

	Ranma just stood there, his mouth hanging open, blinking.  Quickly,
he closed his mouth, and said quietly, restraining the absurd anger he felt
at have being identidied so easily, "How did you know it was me?"

	"Noone else here could sneak up on me that quietly.  You're very
good...I didn't even notice you until you grabbed me."

	Ranma blushed.  "Ah, yeah...that.  I guess I was cocky...I was so
good, picking out that perfect hiding spot."

	The figure seemed to smirk, although it was difficult to tell.  "And
it never even occured to you that someone might have been here first?  Ah
well, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, you American's being new to this,
and all."

	Ranma's anger grew visibly.  "New to this?  I'll have you know I've
done this more times and more places than any of these Brits here.  Why do
you think I was selected to be the American liason?"

	The figure also grew angrier.  "Who do you think you are?  You think
you can just fly in here and expect things to go just like they did in Spain,
or Italy, or wherever the hell you've been before?  You're WRONG.  Here it's
different...the Germans really hate us.  They're really trying to track us
down.  Listen to what we say."

	Ranma didn't like being talked to like this, not after what he had
done.  "YOU listen to ME.  I don't need to be told how to do my job, I can
fight my own fights.  I'm the best in the world at this, so if you expect me
to be just a grunt like your boys there, you've got another think coming."

	The figure wheeled, amazingly quickly, launching a vicious punch at
Ranma.  He tilted his head a few inches to the side, letting the punch
whistle past him, a look of surprise on his face.  The figure continued to
press the attack, lunching a dizzying array of punches and kicks at him, all
of which he avoided without really seeming to try to.  Finally, the figure
reared back, and threw a final, deadly punch at Ranma, with whom it rather
notably failed to connect with.  Instead, the figure punched the side of the
shack, punching a hole into a fortunately unlit room.  The figure just stood
shocked as it felt a poke on the back of its neck.

	"Gotcha" Ranma chuckled quietly.  The figure pulled its hand from the
wall, slowly, trembling.  Ranma looked at the Frenchman, concerned.  Had he
injured his hand?  Did he-

	Ranma blinked as he instinctively caught the open-handed blow aimed
at his face.  Slap?  his mind wondered.  Why is he trying to slap me?  Then
the figure looked up, and Ranma knew.

	Black hair, cut brutally short in the back.  A set of long bangs,
with a noticeable gap in the middle fell to just above a pair of eyes just
beginning to fill with tears of rage.  A small, slightly upturned nose,
above a mouth that was a quivering, tight line.  The body was clad in baggy
fatigues that, at this distance, didn't conceal the breasts beneath, nor
entirely the narrow waist and athletic hips.  Slowly, he released her arm. 
The girl continued looking at him for a few moments, the whispered, angrily,
"You American FOOL!"  She turned from him running into the bushes.

	Ranma followed her with his eyes.  Who WAS that, his mind wondered. 
And what did I just do?

Stalingrad, the same day.

	The young woman stood on the factory roof, looking west, her back to
the Volga River, looking at the ruins of the city.  A small smile turned up
the corners of her mouth.  Finally, she thought.  We've finally done it.  The
Nazi's were gone, captured.  And she had played a role in, as Comrade Zhukov
called it, "The most important battle our Motherland has ever faced."

	Her smile widened at the memory, then faltered.  Now what?  Now
that the fighting was over, what was she expected to do?  Was she expected to
go back to her village and be a good wife to someone, dutifully forgetting
about the battle here?  Was that what they had in store for her?  She kicked
a chuck of concrete, sending it sailing over the edge of the roof.  No, that
couldn't be it.  Not for 5th Red Militia's champion, Corporal J.
Shyanletsova, 'Shampoo' to her comrades.

	"Shampoo!  Where are you Shampoo?!"  The cry made her wince slightly,
a look of distaste crossing her face.  It, of course, belonged to Corporal J.
Muslietnosov, better known in the 5th as 'Mousse'.  Shampoo still couldn't
figure him out.  While nearly blind, even with his comically thick glasses,
Mousse was another of the 5th's prized assets, because of his amazing skill
with weapons.  Mousse could rig up a booby-trap four times as lethal as
anyone in the unit, using half the resources.  He had also proven quite adept
at smuggling items into the unit, both from the Germans and other Russian
units...he could, it was joked, hide a T-34 up the sleeves of the extra-baggy
fatigues he habitually wore.  Shampoo respected him highly for all of this...
yet, when not on a mission, couldn't stand him.  To make it worse, he was
totally infatuated with her.

	She sighed.  She was sure she even knew why.  The two worked well
together.  Both were almost supernaturally quick, and both had extensive
martial-arts training.  What Mousse couldn't accomplish with stealth, Shampoo
could do with speed and power, or vice versa.  As such, the two had often
been sent out together, alone, on missions.  At first, she had even liked it. 
It was so nice to have this man doting on her constantly, eager to please her
slightest whims.  But...it had quickly grown tiresome.  And then, annoying. 
She sighed again.  At least leaving Stalingrad meant leaving Mousse.

	"Shampoo, where are you?!  I've got news for you!  Cologne wants to
talk to us both!"

	Shampoo started at that.  Cologne?  She'd better hurry.  Although she
wasn't positive, she had always gotten the impression that Cologne expected
her orders to be followed, exactly, and quickly.  To defy her...well, Shampoo
had never even really considered it, and to her knowledge, noone else in the
5th had either.  She leaped down from the roof, to find Mousse.

	Mousse turned as he heard the sound behind him.  To his delight, a
blurry figure, willowly, darkly clad, swam into his view.  "Ah, Shampoo!  I'm
so glad I found you.  Cologne talked to me, she said I should find you
and--erk!"  He tilted his head around.  The dark figure moved from his view,
to be replaced by a large, purplish blob that appeared to be quite close.

	"Why are you talking to a lamppost?"  Shampoo demanded.  "And where
is Cologne?"

	"Shampoo!"  Mousse said happily.  Even angry, her voice was
beautiful.  "Cologne's at the Tractor Facto--AWK!"

	Shampoo ran off down the street, dragging Mousse behind her.  The Red
October Tractor Factory was just a few blocks away.  Good.  It wouldn't do at
all to have Cologne angry at her...

	Five minutes later, Shampoo stood, panting slightly, in what had once
been an office.  Now, it was merely another fire-blackened room, with
slightly fewer holes in the walls.  Mousse was beside her, looking a little
rumpled from his arm's-length ride across the broken streets.  In front of
them both was...Cologne.  Cologne was a short, shrivelled figure, balanced on
an old, gnarled staff.  To the members of the 5th, her real name was unknown,
she was just Cologne, or, as she often liked to be called, Great-Grandmother. 
Her age was unknown, as was her original race.  About the only thing that WAS
known about her was that she was one of the finest officers the Red Army had. 
With some many unknowns, and those few, dangerous, knowns about her, both
Shampoo and Mousse reflected on the fact that this was an easy woman to fear.

	"Ah, Shampoo, Mousse.  I've seen you've both found your way here.  I
apologize for interrupting your brief vacation, but, I think both of you will
find our new job interesting."

	Our?  New job?  Did this mean that the three of them were being sent
out together?  Shampoo felt torn about this.  On one hand, she was
excited at the prospect of a new, and exciting, mission.  And she'd be
working with Cologne.  On the other, she'd ALSO be working with Mousse.

	Cologne gave Shampoo a strange smile.  "Yes, that's right, the three
of us."  She turned away, not before noticing the look of surprise that
crossed Shampoo's face.  "I'm afraid, however, that this task isn't as
exciting as the one we just fufilled.  Rather, this one will tax our...mental
and social skills."

	Cologne smiled at the expressions of confusion that stood out on both
youth's faces.  "I'll make it easy for you.  We have been selected to travel
to England, more specifically, to Kitty Field, to establish a liason with the
British and Americans there."

	Shampoo blinked.  "England?  But, why us?" she asked, quite confused. 
Why her, espescially?  Her English was only fair at the best of times. 
Mousse had always been better at languages than her.  Then she relaxed a bit. 
Whatever the reason was, she was sure Cologne would know.

	Cologne shrugged.  "I don't know.  However, we've already got our
orders.  I don't believe either of you have much in the way of luggage, do
you?"

	Shampoo just shook her head numbly.  The only things she owned in the
world were her two uniforms, and a pair of antique bonbori, which she
practised her martial arts with.  Mousse shook his head as well.  While he
had more in the way of possessions than Shampoo, he had never found it
necessary for luggage to carry them.

	Cologne nodded.  "Well, then, do whatever you need to do get ready. 
Be back here in half an hour.  I'm afraid this trip isn't going to be easy,
children.  And I do apologize for this.  I wouldn't have taken you if I
didn't think you were the best for the job."

	Shampoo came to attention, and saluted, as did Mousse.  As they
turned to leave, Shampoo felt a funny sensation.  Not fear, exactly, but a
new kind of nervous anticipation.  She was going into a situation which she
was totally unprepared for, and that should have scared her.  But somehow,
knowing that she had Cologne's confidence, strengthened her.  Knowing that
Cologne, and even Mousse, would also be at her side made her feel even more
confident.  Feeling a bit better about the weeks to come, Shampoo ran down
the street to 5th Militia's barracks to prepare.


Sicily, the same day.

	The young man was frustrated.  Why? he silently asked himself.  Why
me?  Why am I cursed like this?  An outside observer would have had trouble
noticeing his frustration...his face was set in a grim mask that encouraged
eve the bravest to stay to far away to get a good look.  And it had been like
that for the better part of a day now, as the man tried to find his Colonel's
office.

	2nd Lieutenant Ryouga Hibiki was decidedly unhappy, which was not
unusual.  He was also quite lost, which was also not unusual.  He had
recieved a message during breakfast to go talk to the Colonel immediately
after the meal.  And so, when the others in his platoon had left to prepare
for the day, he had been left alone to find his way to the Colonel's office. 
Those bastards, Ryouga grumbled to himself.  Leaving me alone like this.  I
ought to...

	He cut the thought off.  There was a sergant sitting at a desk, he'd
probably be able to tell him where to go.  He approached the desk.  "Excuse
me, where is Colonel Biles office?"

	Why wasn't he answereing, Ryouga thought worriedly after a long
pause.  And why is he giving me that look.  Ryouga knew the look...it was the
look normal people always give those who are lost.  The sergant continued
staring, then, turned, and jerked his thumb at the nameplate on the door
behind him.  It, of course, read "Colonel J. Biles - Commander 43rd Armour."

	Ryouga put his hand behind his head and laughed nervously. 
"Ah-heh...thank you," he said to the sergant, who just grunted as Ryouga
opened the door and came to attention.  "Second Lieutenant Hibiki reporting
as ordered, sir!"

	The man behind the desk smiled, the skin around his eyepatch
crinkling slightly.  "Ah, Lieutenant Hibiki.  You're early.  Please, come
in."  The Colonel leaned back in his chair comfortably, as Ryouga stepped
inside.  "Please, please, have a seat."

	Ryouga sat in the proferred chair, trying not to look as nervous as
he felt.  Early?  Well, he supposed, the Colonel was no fool...he would know
about my problem.  He didn't get to be the CO of the most decorated armour
unit in America by being stupid.  Ryouga still felt nervous.  He had never
met the Colonel before, and he didn't quite know what to expect.  The Colonel
just looked at him, one eye crinkled in amusement.  Ryouga flushed slightly,
and turned his stare to the Colonel's desk.  Not much there...a photo of a
pretty woman with odd greenish hair, whom Ryouga presumed was his wife.  A
green blotter, with a couple of pens on it.  And...scariest of all, a file. 
Ryouga swallowed.  He didn't know much about the higher-ups, having just
become a platoon commander recently, but he did know that a File was a bad
sign.

	The Colonel smiled even wider.  "Relax, Lieutenant.  I just called
you in here for a personal briefing.  It's something I like to do with my
new commanders, now matter how junior, to get a feel for how they'll work. 
So, I'm just going to go over our next mission with you."

	Ryouga stammered an affirmative.  The Colonel almost smiled, until he
realized that would probably just make the poor boy more nervous.  It had
been a long time since he had joined, but he still remembered the fear.  It
must be even harder for Hibiki, the Colonel reflected...I don't care what his
records say, he's nowhere near 18.  Not that it mattered.  Ryouga had proven
himself in the only field that mattered, that of battle.  First in Algeria,
then on Sicily, as a gunner and later, commander of his own Sherman tank.  He
had fought his way to Sergeant, getting the field promotion, and command of
3rd Squadron's 4th Platoon only two weeks ago.  He had a real future in the
Army...if, the Colonel sighed, he could find the bathroom without needing a
guide.

	Oh well.  No matter.  The Colonel leaned forwards, and opened the
file, pulling out the mission orders, and a map.  "Now, look here, Hibiki,"
he began...

	An hour later Ryouga walked out of the office, in the company of a
corporal from his platoon.  His earlier nervousness was forgotten, now, he
was confident, on familiar ground, so to speak.  The mission was to start
tomorrow...hence the guide back.  Ryouga would have a busy night ahead of
him, and couldn't afford to waste any time.  As he got back to his platoons
lager, he was already starting his mental checklist.

	It HAD been a busy night, Ryouga yawned the next morning, as he sat
up in the cupuola of his tank.  Finding fuel, rations, spares, ammo...Ryouga
had barely caught an hours sleep before they mounted up and began rolling. 
This day was the easy part...a drive to Palermo to load onto the troopships,
an overnight ride, and then disembarking in southern Italy for the still-
short drive to the front.  Ryouga shivered as a breeze caught him.  Still
chilly this early in the morning.  He ducked back down into the turret,
buttoning the hatch behind him.  He had a good driver...Ryouga was confident
there would be no troubles.

	Which, his mind grumbled two hours later, was why they were putting
the first spare road wheel onto his #3 tank.  Just his damned luck...and the
rest of the convoy hadn't stopped, leaving his platoon behind to make quick
repairs.  Well, he told himself, that should be not problem.  He had the map
memorized, and, anyways, the rest of the squadron couldn't get THAT far
ahead, could they?

Sunset - somewheres west of Palermo

	"CAN SOMEONE TELL ME HOW TO GET TO PALERMO!?!?!?!?"

Ranma - Fall of the Eagle - Part 2
by James Stone
wstone@gpu.srv.ualberta.ca
(c) 1995 Stone Age Productions   All Rights Reserved
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
August, 1943, West of the Ardennes

	The man stood staring at a map mounted on the wood-panelled walls of
his command post.  He frowned in annoyance.  He had just received word,
passed up from an infantry platoon, that an unknown plane had been spotted
flying just about fifty kilometers east of Paris.  Another attack by those
damned British special forces units again, no doubt operating with La
Resistance.  The man hated the idea of special forces units, men who slunk
about like beasts in the night to strike at their victims by surprise, like
cowards.  It was no way to fight.  General Tatewaki Kunou, commander of the
4th Division in France, had learnt at an early age that fighting was to be
honorable, a test of strength on an even battlefield.

	He snorted.  It was no matter...this Resistance, even with their
British friends, couldn't do more than annoy his units.  And soon, they would
be tracked down and crushed, given the fate they deserved.  He smiled,
confident that he would prevail.  The Kunou family had never tasted defeat
in hundreds of years.

	A sly smile crept to his face...and was wiped away by a knock at the
door.  "Enter," he snapped, annoyed that his contemplation had been
interrupted.  Didn't people understand that true brilliance was found only in
reflection?  Another half smile crept to his face as his aide entered. 
Certainly, THIS one never had.  One look at his pale, weak face, and the
perpetual dark circles under his eyes could tell you that.

	Major Hikaru Gosunkugi came to attention as he entered the room.  He
didn't salute...his arms were full with the documents General Kunou had
requested a few minutes earlier.  He felt nervous, but it wasn't because of
the General.  No, Gosunkugi had long ago learned that the General's actions
weren't as terrible as they seemed.  He was nervous because that was his
natural state.

	"I have the files you requested, Herr General," Gosunkugi said. 
Kunou looked at him with an expression that was half-contempt, half-
amusement, as he placed the stack on the desk.  Again, Gosunkugi didn't
resent the domineering gaze.  The General looked at everyone like this.  In
fact, everyone looked at Gosunkugi like this.

	"Yes, thank you, Major.  Would you please find Colonel Tendo, and
convey that I wish to speak with her, concerning our grand and glorious
upcoming day of battle against the despicable hordes of the so-called
'liberation movement' of the land we have so generously offered to
demonstrate to, and correct, the error of its ways?"  Gosunkugi's face never
changed from its pale, nervous expression as the General made his request. 
The General fancied himself as a literary man, and was taken to long,
elaborations on simple requests.  Unfortunately, these were often quite
tedious, but, Gosunkugi had never known anyone to criticize the General on
them.  Not after...but no-one liked to think about that.  Gosunkugi merely
saluted, and left the room, shutting the heavy doors nearly soundlessly
behind him.

	Kunou watched his departure, the expression of scorn never leaving
his face.  As the doors closed, Kunou turned back to the map, his thoughts
lingering on the man who had just left.  Gosunkugi was a tool, albeit a
useful one.  He had only met Kunou six months before, when he had been
discharged from the Gestapo for "unorthodox" practices.  Kunou had no idea of
what these were...although he imagined they had something to do with the
candles Gosunkugi strapped to his head occasionally.  Kunou didn't really
care...Gosunkugi was both completely loyal to him, and had occasional flashes
of brilliance that, with refinement, had turned into amazingly effective
operations.  Which, of course, was why Kunou had been assigned the task of
destroying La Resistance.
	
	Kunou turned his attention back to the map before him.  Now...how to
do that.  Thanks to the information received from the infanty platoon, he now
knew there was a cell of the Resistance, with probably British Special Forces
support, just east of Paris.  He hummed thoughtfully to himself.  There
really wasn't much there, except a support depot, and a few bridges that
would be used by rear units to be moved to the front, in the event of an
invasion of Vichy France.  So what could they be...

	The door swung open without the preamble of a knock.  Kunou turned to
reprimand the impudent whelp who had dared enter his presence without
knocking.  He opened his mouth before he saw who it was...and the words
stuck in his throat as he saw his latest visitor.

	The young lady who stood at the door was fairly short, about six
inches shorter than his six-foot frame.  Her dark-brown hair was short and
straight, cut in an odd style that almost seemed to replicate a helmet.  A
pair of simple, but expensive looking, gold earrings decorated her ears, and
complimented the equally-expensive looking string of pearls around her neck. 
She wore a strapless black evening gown, high in the bodice, cut dangerously
low in the back, that clung to her slim figures curves.  Matching black
gloves went up her arms, ending just above above the elbows.  She struck a
seductive pose on the door, but the look she gave him was full of amused
condesencion, an almost exact mirror of his own look.  "Well, Herr Kunou,"
she purred, her voice barely giving away her concealed amusement.  "What is
it I can...do, for you?"

	Kunou coughed, trying to ignore her goads.  She was the first
woman...indeed, the first person, to ever toy with, and mock him like she
did.  The absurd part of it was, Kunou tolerated it...or at least that's what
he told his superiors, his inferiors, and himself.  The truth of it was,
Kunou didn't have the slightest idea of how to deal with it.  She was
completely fearless; intimidation didn't work.  Kunou had tried.  When that
had failed...he had just given up, and ignored her attempts to goad him with
the best of his ability.  He had tried to ignore her completely, outside of
their work, in fact.  Perhaps most surprisingly of all, in spite of their
mutual detestation of each other, or perhaps because of it, they worked quite
well together.

	He gritted he teeth, and forced his voice back out.  "Ah, yes,
Colonel Tendo.  I heard earlier today that you might have some new
information for me?"

	Colonel Tendo rolled her eyes theatrically.  "For THAT, you haul me
away from a wonderful evening of dining and dancing?  I ought to recommend
you be shot."  She let a playful smile come to her lips, but wiped it away
when she saw the General was determined not to react.  She smiled inwardly to
herself.  Little General Kunou could be so cute sometimes.  When he had
failed to charm her, as he had done with so many other girls, he had tried to
intimidate her.  The Colonel's inner smile widened even more.  Little Kunou's
family might be powerful, but she had dealt with little princes before. 
Kunou had been just like the others...until he made his determination to not
let her affect him.  THAT had been unusual, and the Colonel actually
respected him for that.  Which was what made her constant needling, and
occasional scores all the more fun.  Nabiki Tendo liked games...and hitting
people for reactions was one of the most entertaining she had found to date.

	She walked over to the desk.  "Yes, I have got some information on
the Resistance for you.  However...." she let the thought trail off.

	Kunou sighed heavily.  Another thing he had never understood about
this aide was how she had avoided being shot.  Germany was a capitalist
state, to be sure, but she took it to new extremes.  Maybe she had avoided it
because her information was so good.  At least two German units were still
alive because her intelligence information had prevented an ambush.  He
looked at her.  "As usual, your reward will be in proportion to your
information."

	Nabiki sighed.  "Come now, Herr General," again rolling the r's and
making the title somehow diminutive.  "You can't expect me to risk my pretty
skin to get this information, and then not get SOME kind of
recompensation...."  She looked at him, and gave an inward shrug.  Little
Kunou was being especially obstinate today.  Oh well, this information would
get her something, regardless.  "Oh, all right, have it your way."  She
reached into the purse that accompanied her gown, and dropped a few folded
sheets of paper onto the desk.

	General Kunou snatched them up, and began reading.  His eyes widened. 
"This...this is..."

	Nabiki just smiled.  "Good enough for a ticket to Stockholm, and a
pair of tickets to see the Stockholm Symphonic Orchestra's performance of
various British and French classics?"

	Kunou looked up sharply.  "Why that performance, precisely?  And why
TWO tickets?"

	She just smiled.  "Ah, my...escort, let us call him...does not
appreciate the work of the German composers.  Perhaps it has something to do
with the destruction of his laboratory in Copenhagen."  Nabiki shrugged.  "At
any rate, he does seem quite amenable to our French neighbours, if you
understand me."

	Kunou smiled.  "Ah.  I see it like the light of heaven that has shone
down upon our great and glorious Teutonic Empire.  And perhaps you will bring
me back a...souvenir?"

	Nabiki managed not to wince at the rhetoric.  "Um...yes...I think
that could be arranged."

	Kunou smiled.  "Excellent.  I'll make the arrangements personally. 
You will leave within the week."

	Nabiki smiled, stood, and stretched langourously.  "Oh, one more
tidbit of news, Herr General."

	Kunou looked at sharply.  "And what might that be?"

	"I overheard somewhere that one of the more troublesome Resistance
groups has moved their base of operations, and is now east of Paris.  It's
nothing more than a rumor, but..."

	Kunou nodded, and smiled.  "Yes...that information is quite useful to
me.  Thank you Colonel, you are dismissed."

	Colonel Nabiki Tendo gave a sardonic smile.  "Please, Herr General,
don't get up.  I can find my way to the door."  She sighed, "And now back to
the dance, where my poor toes will be crushed by those clumsy young men. 
Isn't it horrible, Herr General?"

	Nabiki turned to see the effect the remark had at the door.  General
Kunou's head was down, but it seemed to jerk slightly.  She gave herself
another inward smile, and marked up another point as she stepped out the
door, closing it silently behind her.

"Betty Bones", somewhere over Belgium

	Toufuu swallowed hard against the taste creeping up the back of his
throat.  This was the worst part of any mission...where the fighters turned
for home, to refuel, and await the survivors on the way out.  He had been
here three times before already, and on each of those three times he had
managed to see the fighters return.  But for other men...

	Already, the Blue Thunder squadron had lost five planes.  Two lost to
the ambush over the Atlantic, and then one per mission.  And at that the
losses of the squadron had been light.  Replacements were scheduled to arrive
the next day; the next wave of flight crews fresh from flight training.

	Toufuu had no illusions about how well they would work...he knew that
while in his three missions he had learned an incredible amount, but that it
was still mostly luck seeing him through these early missions.  The skill
would come later...when the luck ran out.

	The pilot of one the nearest fighters gave a wave.  Toufuu waved
back, wishing he was that pilot, leaving the dangers of occupied airspace for
the relative safety of England.  He didn't watch the fighter peel away and
turn around...instead, he spun his turret to face forwards, towards the black
dots on the horizon that meant the Luftwaffe.

	A curious numbness began to descend over his mind.  While hating it,
he let the feeling overcome him.  It was the only way to survive, he knew. 
Become a part of the aircraft, become the weapon he had been trained of his
own choice to be.

	The dots slowly began to resolve themselves...becoming first small
circles, then irregular blobs...then colors began to appear.  Toufuu was
momentarily confused.  He should be able to spot the unit colors by now, with
the fighters only a minute away.  Suddenly, a wave of coldness hit his belly,
and he knew.  He couldn't see colors, because the aircraft were all black...
the Black Rose squadron, the most unorthodox, and most feared unit of the
Luftwaffe.

	From his position at the head of the formation, Toufuu watched as the
nose cones of the lead wave of fighters suddenly appeared to glow...the 30mm
cannon of the Messerschmit fighters opening up.  Within seconds, all the
attacking fighters appeared to be blazing, 20 and 30mm cannon shells reaching
out to the bombers.

	Wait, wait, wait...now!  His instructors voice, now familiar, and
welcome to Toufuu, suddenly yelled in his ears.  His thumbs pressed on the
switches of his machine guns, sending return fire back at the fighters.  His
fire was a cue to the rest of the flight to begin firing...his distance
gauging was impeccable.

	The Nazi fighters roared past, Toufuu spinning his turret to follow. 
The time for thought was past...now it was time for action and reaction.  The
black Messerschmits and Focke-Wolfe's swooped and dove around the bombers,
trying to strike a fuel tank or a bombload that would detonate the aircraft. 
The bombers responded by keeping their formations, trying to lure the Germans
into the concentrated killing fields between them.  Already one German was
down, its engine exploded in the head on volley.  But one of the B-17's was
already trailing smoke from a dead engine, and more were loud with the shriek
of wind through jagged holes.

	Toufuu didn't notice what was happening to those around him.  His
entire world was composed of his guns, his plane, and his target.  He smiled
to himself unconciously as a Focke-Wolfe suddenly dove, a parachute streaming
out from above its tail as it plummeted.  He felt the vibration as rounds
suddenly struck his own fuselage, raking the side and belly in search of a
bomb to possibly detonate or jam.  He was distracted from his universe only
when a new factor entered it...a black popcorn puff fifty meters above his
tail:  the sign of ack-ack.

	What he couldn't deal with, was ignored.  Ack-ack was a problem only
when it interfered with his targeting, or struck his plane.  Currently, it
was doing none of those things, and so, it was ignored.  Now his concern was
a single Focke-Wolfe, that was diving at his plane from high above the tail,
gun's firing.  Toufuu lined up the guns, noting this shot was an easy one,
that destroying or driving off the plane would be a simple exercise.  His
thumbs pressed down on the triggers.

	At first he didn't understand why his bullets were blowing the glass
around him apart.  Then something wholly new happened...instead of the
vibration he commonly felt in his arms, his hands were ripped off the gun
mount as his body was thrown backwards in its harness.  He slumped over, but
seemed unable to push himself back up to his guns.  A loud bang nearly
deafened him as something solid struck the back of his head, and drove him to
look downwards, at the expanding black stain on the shoulder of his flight
jacket.  Realization of his wounds came as the world around him began to sway
into grey.  He forced himself to look at the plane who had claimed him...but
he failed to see it.  Instead, the last sight he saw was that of a black
Bf-110, with a curious rose-petal pattern on the rear-fuselage....

"The Black Rose" - A Bf-110 heavy fighter

	The Colonel watched as the Focke-Wulf fighter pulled away from the
bomber...and swore as a thin trail of smoke began trailing from the fighter. 
Not fatal, certainly, but another fighter to be repaired, and, she checked,
the bomber continued on.  Hurt, but not enough to stop its mission.

	Colonel Kodachi Kunou, commander of the 43rd SS Special Air Group,
simply sighed.  She had seen enough.  Time to turn for home, and let the
regular units of the Luftwaffe handle it.  She spoke a single command to her
pilot, who turned her own fighter for home, and called in the rest of the
squadron to do the same.

	As the fighter flew leisurely home, Kodachi began to get even
angrier.  She hated these fights over the Fatherland, waiting for the
American fighters to leave before they struck.  Kodachi firmly believed that
this was the wrong way to go about killing the bombers...in her opinion, only
preemptive attacks at their airfields and their ferry squadrons would work.

	She gave a sneer to herself in her cockpit.  No doubt her brother
would call her cowardly for such an attack, but that was him.  He had clung
to the old ways of the Kunou family, and still believed in the code of honor
of the old knights.  And so, it was only natural that he become an army
officer, even more so that he be directed to destroy the Resistance, the bane
of his way of thought.  But she was different.

	Kodachi knew in her heart that the only honor lay in victory.  A fair
fight on an even battlefield was all very well and good, if you won.  If you
didn't win...then what was the point?  Kodachi had used every sleight, back
door, and dirty trick in the book, and invented quite a few wholly new ones
to get to where she was today...and she still used them.  And to her, the
ends justified the means...few squadrons were as effective or feared as hers. 
A hodgepodge of almost every type of aircraft in the Luftwaffe inventory, it
was prepared for every eventuality.  For weaponry they used every weapon,
legal, banned, or experimental, the Luftwaffe had come up with; Kodachi
explained away the higher-than-average casualty rate of her unit as to be
expected considering the nature of the weapons they used...and, her
commanders had reluctantly agreed, her explanations did usually make a
twisted sort of sense...at least to one who had no hesitations about using
chemical filled rockets and ram aircraft.

	As she flew, her sneer widened, and became a genuine smile.  Next
time...it would be different.  Next time, she would truly surprise the
Americans...doing something unexpected, but not wholly new.  Kodachi
smiled...and thought...and her smile broke into a laugh.

	In the front seat, her pilot winced to himself, surrepticiously, lest she
notice.  The Black Rose herself was up to
something, he thought.  No doubt it would be dangerous, crazy, and probably
illegal.  But that was the price you paid for success.  The crewmen tried to
ignore that howling laugh, and turned their attention back to the flight, not
thinking too hard about what the Black Rose had in store.

Back at Kitty Field, after the mission

	The young lady sighed as she heard the rumble through the thin wooden
walls of the building  That meant the bombers were coming back...doubtless
with a fresh batch of bloodied and dying young Americans.  The girl sighed...
she tried to be dispassionate about her job, but it just wasn't possible for
her.  It wasn't the blood, or the screams that bothered her.  If they could
scream, that meant they had breath to spare.  It was the ones who just lay
there....  She shook her head.  She had her duty, as a nurse, and she knew it
could have been something far worse, like....

	Her thoughts were cut short by the wail of an ambulance horn.  The
first batch was here already.  Unconsciously, the nurse blocked the screams
out of her mind as she set to work, first preparing the bandages and
instruments for the surgeons, the going to the bodies of the young men for
triage assessment.  The first one she got to was immediately crossed off the
list...he was dead.  At least his eyes were closed, the nurse thought to
herself.  The way they stared....

	As she got into the rhythm of her work, it became easier.  The faces
disappeared...and they became their injuries...a burned face here...severe
abdominal damage there...a dead body, to be hauled away and replaced with
another screamer, clutching at eyes that weren't there.  The nurse swung
through her duties mechanistically, hating herself for it, but unable to stop
it.  At least she could comfort these ones...at least those who would live. 
Earlier, they had also sometimes stayed with the airmen as they died...giving
a few last moments of comfort.  Now though, they couldn't afford that luxury,
and the mortally wounded were left alone.  But she still, whenever she could
spare a second, made sure that they were more comfortable...it was a way to
ease her concience.

	This mission had been a bad one...it was six hours before the last
one was taken off the operating table.  The nurse sighed, and slumped against
a wall in exhaustion as she stepped into the cleanup room.  She was too tired
right now to even strip her gloves off, to take off the surgical cap that
held her light brown hair out of the way.  She just relaxed, enjoying the
moment to herself before the other nurses came in.

	When they did, she smiled at them, giving her girls a thumbs up for a
job well done.  The girls smiled back, recognizing their effort and hers. 
All of them had the highest respect for their head nurse...while not the
oldest of them, she had proven to be the best, using what seemed to be her
inexhaustible energy and good spirit to buoy others, to keep them going
through the long hours.

	The nurse smiled and chatted with the girls why they changed their
bloodied surgical garb for either their usual nursing uniforms, or civilian
clothes.  She envied those changing into the latter...it would be another
four hours before she went off duty.  Giving an inward sigh, she rose,
nodding to the other nurses.  Her station tonight, as usual, would be
intensive care.  The girl who would be working with her wasn't ready yet, but
the nurse didn't mind.  She wasn't expecting any of the airmen to be awake,
let alone in dire straights.  At least, not yet.

	The intensive care ward was, of necessity for quick action, right
next to the operating theatre.  Entering, the nurse took a chart from the
wall, checking it over...ah...this was good.  Despite the number injured
today, only two had been really serious.  The other twelve men in the ward
were in for observation, to be moved to the regular ward soon.

	The nurse began her rounds, taking her time.  As expected, there was
no rush.  When her partner entered, and began working on the other side of
the room, she was only three patients down.  So far, so good...nothing
abnormal, and she had checked both of the serious concerns.  And, as she had
thought, all of them were asleep.  Which was why the sudden movement of her
next patient startled her.

	The airman let out a small gasp of surprise as he saw the nurse jump. 
He started to say something, then, apparently remembering where he was,
closed his mouth.  His left hand flexed as he tried to reach for something...
only to find that he couldn't move that arm.  Muttering a curse under his
breath, he reached across his body, searching for....

	The nurse blinked a few times, catching her breath.  Her partner had
noticed the movement, and smiled, before turning back to her own work.  The
nurse herself was surprised...and now she was concerned.  If he kept
thrashing around like that, he could hurt himself!  Now what was he...she
spotted the glasses sitting on the table next to him.  Taking them, and
grabbing his right hand, she placed the glasses in his hand.

	The airman went red, and flushed, muttering thanks under his breath. 
He turned his head away slightly, as he slipped the glasses on, then turned
back to the nurse.

	The nurse blinked.  Hadn't his glasses been clean a moment ago? 
But...the humidity was high lately, and she might have been mistaken....but
that amount of fog?

	"Ah!...He...hello!"  the airman stammered, causing the nurse to jump
a bit again.  "Ah!  I'm sorry...I mean...I didn't mean to frighten you,
or..."

	The nurse did what came automatically.  "Shhh!" she hissed at him. 
"People are sleeping here!"

	"Ah!...I mean, ah, yes, I'm sorry for making you so much noise.  I
mean...you making so much noise.  I mean...er...."  The young man stammered,
obviously confused.  "I mean...eh....who are you?"

	The nurse blinked.  Was he delirious?  Or was he just disoriented? 
Whatever the case, the nurse decided to humor him.  "I'm your nurse, Kasumi. 
Nurse Kasumi Tendo, Mr..." she checked the chart.  "Mr. Toufuu Ono."

	Toufuu stammered..."I'm ah...I'm very glad to meet you, Nurse...ah,
Kasumi."  Unaccountably, he blushed at this.

	Kasumi couldn't help herself but to smile.  "And its nice to meet you
too, Mr. Toufuu.  But..you really must sleep.  If you don't sleep..."

	Toufuu grew even redder.  "Ah....that's right.  I should sleep? 
Shouldn't I?  I should.  I used to be a medical student...I should know this. 
Well, goodnight."  With that, he rolled over and pretended to fall asleep.

	Or so Kasumi thought.  As she stood to make her way to the next bed,
she began to hear snores coming from Toufuu's bed.  He couldn't have....she
checked.  He had, fallen right to sleep at her command.  How odd, Kasumi
thought to herself, as she continued her rounds.


Ranma - The Fall of the Eagle Part 3
by James Stone
wstone@gpu.srv.ualberta.ca
(c) 1995 Stone Age Productions  All Rights Reserved
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Before I start, I just want to apologize for the horrible spelling
mistakes you'll see throughout this story.  Y'see, I really _DID_ send it
out to my crack team of proofreaders, who so generously take the time out
of their busy lives to read these things, and respond with mail about how
lousy my spelling is, and how its not bad, but a few things are unclear
and such....(kidding, but only very slightly....^_^), but, then I went
away on a vacation.  And lo, when I did return, I found that the account
where all the corrections were stored was now null and void.  And, well,
cause this thig is late ALLREADY....I'm sending it out rough.  My
humblest apologies, and, to make up for it, I point you to part 4, which
should have decent spelling.  ^_^  Anyways, here's the story...
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fifty kilometers east of Paris

	Ranma cursed under his breath as he jogged along the rough path. 
Why'd I get myself into this business, he complained to himself.  Didn't have
to volunteer for Special Ops, coulda stayed home, been an instructor, found
myself a nice girl, slept in a real bed, eaten real food....

	He and the rest of the squad had been on the move for almost eight
hours now, having started at sunset.  In their briefing, the squad leader had
commented that this was going to be the longest stage of their trip, but, she
had smiled, since it was the last, they could all look forwards to a three-
day leave in Paris at the end of it.  The Resistance fighters had chuckled
grimly at that...Ranma and the rest of his Special Ops team hadn't.  They all
felt a little bit guilty that they would be leaving this group tomorrow...
heading for the coast, where a friendly man hauled his nets, under the
scrutiny of the Nazi's.

	Ranma gave a mental snort to himself.  He shouldn't have to worry...
this Resistance squad was in pretty good shape; which wasn't surprising
considering the tomboy leading it.  I guess to be in a place like this, he
thought, she'd have to lose all of her femininity.

	Ranma scowled to himself.  It was all well and good, his mind said,
to explain to ourselves why we don't need to worry about her, but, we've got
a mission to do, and these kind of thoughts aren't helping us at all. 
Besides, we know perfectly well that we ARE worrying about her.

	He gave up.  There was no point try to shut his mind off now...he had
learned that when under stress, but not actually danger, his mind started to
wander away from what seemed relevant.  But I am NOT worrying about her!  His
mind shouted to itself.  It didn't answer...but it seemed too smug of itself
all the same.

	The past few days had been...interesting...for both groups, as the
young American Lieutenant and the young Resistance leader had gotten to...
'know' each other.  Generally, them getting to 'know' each other involved one
of them suggesting a plan, which led to the other mocking same.  This, in
turn, generally led to a comment either about their relative intelligence, or
their relative looks, depending on who started the argument in the first
place.  And, once so far, this had led to blows between the two...the
American easily avoiding all the girls blows until she had produced a large
wooden mallet from, apparently, nowheres and flattened him.  Speculation had
run rampant amoung the soldiers about exactly where that mallet had come
from...almost as much on the time it would take Ranma to recover from the
blow.  The senior men had feared the mission would have to be scrapped, but,
Ranma went out that night, face bandaged somewhat.

	Ranma took the time as he jogged to wipe some sweat from his
forehead, wincing slightly as his hand brushed a bruise.  Where DID she get
that thing?  he wondered sourly.  Certainly it was nothing no NORMAL, cute
girl would have done...like one he could have had back home if he hadn't been
stupid enough to...

	The train of thought cut off like a switch as the train of men
suddenly stopped, and the men rolled into the trees for cover.  Ranma, at the
end of the line, waited for the count to come back...he was relieved when the
number came back as fifteen.  He was the sixteenth...they were all here.

	Peering through the darkness, Ranma saw a hand from the front of the
line wave him forwards.  Moving quickly, and almost silently, Ranma jogged to
the front of the line, where the Captain and the girl waited.  He crouched
beside them, and followed the girls finger as it pointed.

	"There," she said in a low tone, that barely reached his ears.  Ranma
looked up through the rough trail, and barely made out the outline in front
of him.  He concentrated for a moment, trying to bring the image into focus. 
As it resolved itself into the black, spidery shape of a railway bridge, he
nodded and smiled.

	"Allright then," he whispered.  He continued looking, sweeping his
eyes, looking for movement.  "Seen any guards yet?"

	"Not yet," the Captain whispered.

	"But they'll be there," the girl added.

	Ranma paused again, going over the maps he had studied back in
England.  "Okay...lets do it like this.  I'll take my team, and move to
attack from the south, like this."  Ranma gestured to their right, making a
sweeping gesture to the north.  "Sir, you go north from here, and attack
east, after we do.  We set up lines here, and here."  Ranma was now drawing
in the dirt, pointing out where the British soldiers would set up their fire
positions.  "And you," he looked up at the girl.  "You take your demo team in
behind us.  Set them up quick, 'cause we won't have much time.  Then we all
escape north, leaving the bad guys on the wrong side of the river, with no
bridge.  Got that?"

	The Captain nodded quickly.  "Right-o.  What will be the signal?"

	Ranma smiled grimly in the darkness.  "When we're halfway across, you
guys start coming down.  Try not to take and of us with the Germans, okay?" 
He waited for the Captain to nod, and turned to the girl.  "And you?  Got
it?"  The girl hesitated, and nodded.

	"Right...you've got ten minutes.  I'll attack as soon as I'm ready." 
He patted each on the shoulder, causing the girl to start slightly.  "Good
luck."  He ran off before she could speak.

	Ranma dashed back down the trail, motioning his squad to get ready to
move with him.  The five men moved quickly and quietly through the trees,
stopping at their position as Ranma pointed them out, and explained the plan.
Finally, at the end of the line, at the extreme right of his squad, he
paused, watching the last few seconds tick by on his watch.

	"GO!!!" he screamed, bursting out of the treeline at a dead run, not
fifty meters from the nearest building.  To his left he could sense all of
his men doing exactly the same, at the same time.  His shout could not have
failed to alert the defenses, which was exactly what he wanted.  They didn't
want to leave ANY survivors behind...noone was supposed to see what they did.

	He didn't even have to think about it as he rushed up to the
building, looking through the glass at the room inside.  Two men; without a
pause he brought the gun to his shoulder and fired through the glass into the
room.  He ignored the glass exploding around his face, ignored the far away
bursts of gunfire that meant his men were doing the same.  His whole
concentration was focused on making sure the men inside the room STAYED
inside the room.

	Pause, check to see that they were eliminated.  On to the next room,
repeat.  Out of ammo, drop that magazine, put in a new one.  Within two
minutes his squad was halfway across the compound, into the clear area. 
There were buildings to the left, but those weren't for him.  Those were for
the Captain to deal with.  Now his squad had to deal with getting into place
to protect the Resistance guys.

	Ranma grinned to himself.  Perfect! he thought.  A ridgeline, right
where we need one.  He slowed a bit, letting his men rush behind the
ridgeline, drop, and turn, waiting for the men to start coming out of the
barracks towards them.  Everyone was in place...good.  Ranma dropped beside
them, and turned back to the fight.

	It was almost like a movie, a terribly beautiful parade.  The
German's weren't expecting an attack...not this deep into France.  The
soldiers here were second-line, stumbling from their sleep.  They were the
only ones left now..the guard shack having been the first building hit by the
Special Ops group.  A few dropped, seeing the soldiers behind the
ridgeline...that only made it easier for the remaining British soldiers to
kill them.  Behind them, the six Resistance fighters, unarmed save their
knives and their powerful explosives, rushed across the compound.

	The fight was over in less than three minutes as the last German was
chopped down, his legs shot out from under him.  As the sapper teams rushed
to set their charges, Ranma called out another head count.  All of his men
answered...none were hurt.  The same was true for the Captain, and the two
groups set to watch for the reinforcements they KNEW were coming.

	Ranma began to have a few doubts gnaw at him...there was something he
was missing.  Something important.  Something VERY important.  But, what? 
The operation had gone off without a hitch, the sappers were doing their job
fine, so....what could it be?

	Ranma just shook his head a bit, trying to ignore it.  Normal last
minute worries, he told himself.  But isn't it a little late for LAST
minute jitters?  Didn't the last minute allready happen?

	He was just growling at himself to shut up, when a darker shape moved
above him.  He kicked himself to his feet, looking at the figure.  It was the
girl, he noted, with a tinge of relief.  Ranma quite abruptly told his mind
to shut up and stop worrying, and looked down at her.  "Done?"

	The girl nodded.  "Yes.  And now, we'd best escape, before..."

	Ranma nodded.  "Right.  Lets go."  He motioned his squad to rise,
watching the Captain do the same as the girl spoke to him.  The Captain
nodded, gave a quick eye count, then waved the men off at a slight jog to the
riverbank, where the men slung their weapons in preparation for the swim.

	Ranma froze.  "Um...wait.  We're going to...swim this?"  A bead of
sweat ran down the back of his head.

	The girl turned, obviously surprised.  "Of course we are.  You were
the one who suggested we escape to the north."

	"But...I..." Ranma stammered.  "I thought..."  He looked over at the
bridge, his stomach feeling like someone had dumped a ton of ice into it.  Of
course they couldn't use the bridge.  It was loaded with explosives, which,
although timed, were also trigged by tripwires.  Ranma had no doubt that
trying to find them would be a futile task...the Resistance was noted for its
viciousness at booby-traps.

	The girl looked at him, her tone disgusted.  "Don't tell me you can't
swim!"

	Ranma flushed.  "Of course I can!  It's just..."

	"Just what?"  the girl demanded.  Then her voice took on a teasing
tone.  "Oh...I see!"  Monsieur American dones't want to admit, that, once
again, he was wrong!"

	Ranma snapped, snarling, "Well, how do YOU think we should have done
it?  I'm open to suggestions!"

	The girl jeered.  "Nyah-hah!  Since you're to dumb to figure it out,
I think I'll leave you in the dark!"

	"Leave it to a sexless tomboy to figure it out!" Ranma shot back.  "I
should have known that someone with a figure like yours must have done this
sort of thing her whole life!"

	"What did you say?!"

	"You heard me!  Only uncute girls would be running around with
soldiers like this!"

	As a man, all the soldiers turned to look at each other.  Not again,
they all thought...not NOW of all times.  As if to state their thought
vocally, the noise of a truck could be suddenly heard as it breasted a hill,
fading again as it dipped into a valley.  There couldn't be much time.

	Ranma looked up.  "What was that?" as the noise faded.

	The girl stopped her yelling long enough to listen to the last echos.
"A truck!  We've got to go!"

	Ranma turned, them remembered.  "But I..."

	The girl screamed.  "No time, GO!"  With that, she gave him a massive
push into the river, diving in after him.

	Seeing that the fight was over, the men all jumped into the river,
swimming frantically.  The truck was closer now...much closer.  They had to
get across quickly.

	One of the shapes was floundering, sputtering in the water. Ranma saw
the struggling, turned, and grabbed the figure, not caring at the moment WHO
it was.  Gotta get out, gotta get out....his mind thought, frantically...

	The girl was heaved out of the water on the far bank, sputtering and
coughing.  One of the Resistance fighters grabbed her, and rushed for the
trees, without bothering to check the shape behind him, who pulled itself out
of the water and sprinted after him.

	Once in the trees, the Captain paused to catch his breath.  Damn
Saotome! he thought.  Flirting in the middle of battle...he could have gotten
us KILLED!  The Captain shook his head.  That could wait.  Now, he turned,
and sent a count down the line.  It came back fifteen.

	The Captain froze.  Saotome was gone.  Something had happened to him.
But...the Captain looked...he was SURE he could see sixteen figures.  He sent
the count out again.  This time, after fifteen, he heard the sound of a body
shifting, then a new voice, feminine, but rough-edged called back, "Sixteen."

	Without a word, the last private grabbed the figure, and wrestled it
to the ground.  The Captain dove for it, grabbing it, and turning it over.
What stared back was a girl, with a wet fatigue uniform, wet red hair, and
a red pigtail...just like the one the American wore.  On her right breast
was the nametag, "Saotome."

	The Captain blinked..."Saotome?"

Edinburgh, Scotland

	Shampoo fidgeted nervously as the ship approached the dock.  She
couldn't wait to get back onto dry land.  The past week had been worse than
she could have imagined:  the truck ride to Moscow, attacked by dive bombers
only a day away from their destination.  The the train ride to Murmansk,
including that long, overnight trek where the rails had been bombed away. 
And finally, the ship voyage, a four-day hell-trip, the undersized British
vessel wallowing in the North Sea, sticking to the roughest water it could
find to reduce U-Boat attacks.  Shampoo hadn't eaten since the first day of
the boat ride...not that it helped her naseua any.

	Mousse stood beside her, his face split in a grin as his enjoyed the
last of the sea air.  That idiot had been ENJOYING this, Shampoo thought
miserably.  Nevermind that he had always enjoyed water more than her, that he
was 5th Militia's best swimmer, even 'the Swan' had to have felt SOME
discomfort in this trip?

	Shampoo sighed to herself, softly, so neither her stomach nor Mousse
would notice.  Of course he hadn't.  And, because he was the healthiest
Soviet soldier aboard the ship, he of course had been detailed to look over
Shampoo's agony.  I'd rather of died, Shampoo thought sourly to herself.

	"Look Shampoo!  We're almost there!" Mousse cried excitedly, pointing
to the blur most likely to be the dock.  "Ah, what a shame...I had hoped we'd
take the ship all the way to London."  Mousse's voice trailed off as
Shampoo's allready pale face got even paler.

	"If' you're enjoying this trip so much, why not join the Navy and
leave me alone!!"  Shampoo wheeled, smashing Mousse into the deck with a pair
of improperly secured lookout binoculars.

	"Ah, Shampoo, I see you're feeling better."  Cologne dropped from the
sky, landing balanced on her ancient staff.  "But try not to damage Mousse
too badly before we get to the airfield.  We do need him."  Shampoo stopped
reluctantly, a little unnerved, as always, by Cologne's uncany ability to
show up without warning.

	"Th....thank you...lovely...Shampoo..." Mousse croaked.  Both women
ignored him.

	Cologne smiled.  "So, Shampoo, anxious to end our voyage?"  Colognes
smile widened a bit at the expression that crossed Shampoo's face.  "Yes, I
wondered how you would take this.  I apologize, but, it as necessary, and you
two are the best for this job.  We'll be docking in about twenty minutes,
make sure you're both waiting for me at the gangway."  With that, Cologne
hopped off.

	Mousse sighed, standing at Shampoo's side.  "Only twenty more
minutes.  Oh well, there's allways the trip back!"  Mousse smiled brightly...
even when Shampoo's elbow entered his gut.

	From atop the bridge Cologne watched.  Perhaps I miscalculated, she
thought to herself, mentally wincing everytime a blow landed.  Oh well, I'll
just have to make the best of it.  Off for my own preparations.  With that,
the gnome leaped down from the bridge, to the opposite side of the ship.

	Twenty minutes later, Shampoo and Mousse stood at the head of the
gangway, waiting for Cologne.  Mousse looked a little worse for wear, his
face bruised and puffy, while Shampoo was actually smiling, for the first
time in a week.  As usual, Cologne dropped in from above, giving no warning.
"Ah, Shampoo, Mousse!  I knew you would make it on time.  Now children, let
us depart.  Shampoo, you come with me.  Mousse, you go get our bags."  With
that she hopped down the gangplank, Shampoo and Mousse hurrying to follow.

	At the bottom of the gangplank, Mousse turned to the cargo plank, and
began looking for their bags.  Adjusting his glasses, he began tossing bags
and crates aside, looking for their own.  He hadn't brought any, and Shampoo
had only brought one small..ah, there!  He grabbed a small package, and
tossed it to one side.  Now, for Colognes trunks...and there was one,
<THUNK>, and there was the other, <THUNK>.  He looked up, calling to the two
blobs he assumed were Shampoo and Cologne:  a very short blur, and a somewhat
taller blur with a purple top.  "I've found them!  We can go now!"  Neither
shape moved.  "Yoo-hoo!  Over here!  I've got our bags!"  Still no movement.
He switched to Russian.  <"Hey!  Over he--AWK!">  He crashed to the ground,
dazed, as Colognes staff swiped across the back of his head.

	Cologne sighed, she and Shampoo staring over his back at the two
posts, the longer with a purple fishnet draped over it.  "I should have known
better," she grumbled to herself.  "That boy's so blind...oh well, lets see
if these ARE our bags."  Cologne hopped over to the three Mousse had tossed
aside.  "Ah, yes, this is yours, Shampoo," Cologne tossed her the bag, while
looking at the trunks.  "But neither of these are mine!"

	"Great-Grandmother!  Over here!"  Shampoo called out, gesturing to
two overturned crates.  "Here they are!"

	Mousse laughed weakly as he stood, rubbing his latest bruise.  "Ah-
he-heh...guess I got a little carried away.--OW!"  Colognes staff cracked
across his head again.

	"Yes, you did," she snapped.  "So you can carry ALL our baggage."

	Mousse slumped over.  "Allright."

	An hour later, the party was on their last train, heading south to
Kitty Field.  Mousse lay collapsed on a seat, sweating profusely, tongue
lolling out of his mouth.  Shampoo and Cologne ignored this, staring out the
windows at the scenery.  Shampoo was amazed.  She had never been out of
Russia before, and had been on the front lines for the last year.  The
countryside around her was so, green, so lush...it was hard to tell that
there was a war going on here at all.

	Cologne noticed the look.  "Yes, Shampoo, it seems peaceful here,
doesn't it?"  Shampoo just nodded, eyes wide.  Cologne continued, "Don't let
this fool you.  The war is still going on here, its just they're further from
the front lines.  Further south you'll see the damage the Germans have caused
allready."

	Mousse had recovered somewhat, and was listening.  "So, what you mean
is, don't relax just because it looks safer."

	Cologne gave Mousse a sharp look.  "Yes, but, I should make one thing
clear to you.  You've both been listening too much to the Militia's political
officer too much.  I know the British.  We're their allies now.  Allies of
convenience, but still allies.  Regardless of what the political officer told
you, they won't be trying to backstab us, or coerce us.  It's only the
Germans we have to worry about."

	Mousse nodded grudgingly, and sat back in his seat.  Shampoo just
nodded her assent, and went back to looking out the window, wondering who was
right about this strange place.

France, west of Courseulles

	The past few days had been very, very quiet for the Spec Ops team. 
The American's...change had startled the group badly.  The one good thing
about it, the Captain groused to himself, was that it certainly hadn't
dimished the Lieutenants abilites any.  In fact, he, no she, the Captain
corrected himself, seemed to move even quieter than before.  And she wasn't
having any problems carrying their kit.

	The Captain sighed.  In a couple hours he'd have the whole story
anyways.  He would have liked to have gotten it sooner, but, the past days
had been like a nightmare for all of them.  The Nazi's had gone beserk over
the loss of their bridge, far more so than usual, and they had been only one
step behind the group the whole way.  Until yesterday, when, almost
miraculously, the German forces had moved to the west, still searching.  It
wouldn't take them long to discover their error, but the Resistance fighters
and the Special Ops group only needed a day to get away.  The Captain sighed
again, lighting a cigarette.  Nothing to do now but wait for their ride out.

	Elsewhere, Ranma was making a few last adjustements to her kit.  Why
the hell didn't I tell them sooner? she wondered to herself.  I mean, I knew
I was going to get wet on this mission.  So why?  Ranma stuffed a shirt into
her rucksack, harder than necessary.  She knew damn well why.  Male pride. 
Still, she had meant to tell the group that first night, so why...?

	You know why, her mind chuckled.  HER.  A picture of the Resistance
leader flashed into her mind.  She shook her head angrily.  This was
certainly _not_ the time to be thinking of things like that.  As if anyone
_could_ like that uncute, shapeless, tom--

	"Ah, Monsi...oh, sorry, Madamoiselle American.  Leaving us so soon?" 
HER voice.  Ranma turned around, angry.

	"Listen, you, it's not like I _wanted_ to be a girl, ok?  So lay
off."  Steaming, she turned back to her packing.  She suddenly stopped as the
Resistance leader sat down beside her.

	"I'm sorry.  It's just..."  the girl gestured.

	Ranma blinked.  "Sorry?"  This was unexpected.  Could there mabye be
something feminine about this girl after all?

	The girl scowled.  "Yes, sorry.  Is that too big a word for your tiny
little mind to handle?"

	Guess not, Ranma thought to herself, managing, for once, to hold the
thought back.  "So, why'd you come out here?  If not to laugh at me, I mean."

	The girl looked nervous.  "I was, ah , curious, about," she gestured
to Ranma's chest again.  "That.  How did it happen."  Seeing the surprised
look on Ranma's face, she flushed, and tried to put on a professionally
haughty face.  "Because its my job to know!  In case the Nazi's have
something to do with it..."

	Ranma looked rather uncomfortable as the girls voice trailed off. 
"Uh, yeah!  Right...intelligence.  Okay then."  She tried to compose herself,
and began reminicing.  "It was, oh, not too long ago, about two months.  I
was stationed in China, helping out the local army.  You know, kinda like
what we do here now."

	The girl nodded, Ranma continued.  "Anyways, one day me and my dad...
oh, I guess I should've told you about him.  He's with the Army Air Force, a
Colonel with them.  He's more of a ground guy though...he goes ahead, and
checks out possible base sites.  Anyways, me and him were oreder to scout a
possible fuel and ammo dump sight in the Bayankala range.  Dad figured it
would be a good chance for us to get some more training in as well, so us
two, and a Chinese Major who knew a lot of the old martial arts training
grounds went scouting."

	"It wasn't too bad, at first.  As soon as we got there we knew there
was no way a plane could land in there, so it was just like a training trip.
Dad had found this old map, and we were using it to find all sorts of
different places to train."

	Ranma's face darkened.  "Of course, the idiot can only just barely
understand Chinese.  So, when he came to another place on the map called
'training grounds', he insisted we go to it.  The Guide looked at it, and
said he could get us there, but that it was very dangerous."

	Ranma shrugged.  "I've risked my life before for training, and so has
dad, so it was no problem.  Anyways, the place turned out to be over one
hundred springs, with bamboo poles planted in them.  You know, to balance on.
The idea was not to fall in the water.  Seemed simple enough to me.  The
Guide told us the name of the place was 'Chuuchoanshian', or, in Japanese,
'Jusenkyo'.  So dad and I dropped out gear, and hopped up on the poles."

	"The Guide seemed pretty worried, but we didn't pay much attention to
him.  Dad attacked, and I nailed him easy enough, dropping him into the pool
first shot.  He didn't come up for a bit, and I was starting to get worried.
Then..."

	The girl leaned forwards.  "What?"

	Ranma sighed.  "A panda jumped out of the pool, onto the pole across
from me."

	"The Guide was pretty freaked out, and so was I.  I pointed to the
panda, and asked, 'What the hell is that?'  THAT's when the Guide told us
about the place.  See, twelve hundred years ago, a panda fell into that pool,
and drowned.  Since that day, anyone who's fallen into the pool has been
cursed with the body of a panda."

	The girl blinked.  "Amazing..."

	Ranma smirked.  "Yeah, amazing.  Anyways, then do you know what dad
does?  He blindsides me, whacking me into a pool.  Nyaniichuan, was the name.
Where a girl drowned fifteen hundred years ago."  She gestured to herself. 
"And now...this."

	The girl leaned further forwards, a confused look on her face.  "But,
you said that you had this curse forever.  Then how come...?"

	"I was a guy?" Ranma finished.  "It's not really permantent.  Hot
water will turn me back into a guy, but only until I'm hit with cold water
again.  Same thing goes for dad."  She sighed, finishing buckling the straps
on her rucksack.  "And we've been on the run so long, we haven't had time to
make any hot water.  It doesn't matter though.  I've gotta get wet again
today anyways."

	A low whistle suddenly carried to them.  "And it looks like that's
gonna happen pretty soon.  That was the assembly signal."  She stood,
shouldering her backpack, turning to go.  Then she paused, and turned back. 
"Oh, can you tell me something?"

	The girl blinked.  "What?"

	Ranma smiled slightly.  "Your name."
	
	The girl started slightly.  "Oh...uh, I guess.  Akane Tendo."

	Ranma smiled a bit more, before she noticed it, and tried to cover it
with a brisk nod.  "Ah, good!  Well, Tendo, you didn't do a bad job, for a
sexless tomboy."

	Akane glared. "Why you...bloody American!  If you hadn't been around
to get in the way, we could have had this done in..."  Her words were cut off
as Ranma looked up.

	"I don't got time to argue with you!  Jeez.  Uncute."  Ranma turned
to run off, then paused to look over her shoulder.  "Good luck...Akane." 
With that she turned, and disappeared into the trees.

	Akane sat back down, letting her breath out heavily.  "Idiot," she
muttered under her breath.


Ranma - Fall of the Eagle Part 4
by James Stone
wstone@gpu.srv.ualberta.ca
(c) 1995 Stone Age Productions All Rights Reserved
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
England - Kitty Field

         It hard been a long two days.  Ranma and the rest of his squad
were all sound asleep in the back of the truck, snoring heavily atop their
rucksacks.  The Captain, however, wasn't sleeping.  He was still turning
the story Saotome had told him over and over in his head.

         Could it be true? he wondered.  There certainly wasn't any
_better_ explanation, but...cursed springs in China?  He had to admit, it
did explain a few things.  Like why the most highly-regarded Special
Operations agent in China had rather suddenly been recalled to the US, put
on non-active duty for a month, then just as suddenly recalled to Europe.

         A sudden lowering of the rumble of the engine, and a slight lurch
as the ancient transmission was forced into operation again, jolted most of
the squad, Ranma included awake.  Ranma was male again, at the Captains
insistence.  At the secret dock outside Dover, finding hot water wasn't
very hard...certainly not as hard as explaining Saotome to his superiors
would be.  The Captain grumbled to himself as he gathered his own kit.  It
wasn't even that important...after the initial shock, the squad had
accepted him, and it didn't weaken him very much.  It's just that I'm a
natural worrier, the Captain thought to himself wryly.  Oh well, if we keep
it secret, it shouldn't be a problem.

         Finally, the truck ground to a halt inside the gates.
Immediately, the squad was on the move, leaping from the back of the truck.
 They didn't even hear the sound of rain falling on the tarp as the leaped
out, mingling with the people disembarking from a truck beside them.

         Shampoo leaped nimbly down from the back of her truck, turning to
offer Cologne a hand.  To her disconsertion, she was already gone, and
instead, Mousse grabbed her hand.  Unprepared for the weight, Shampoo
stumbled back as Mousse came out.  The last thing she saw was a well-built,
athletic figure, with a dark-colored pigtail, leaping out of the other
truck.

         Ranma saw the girl falling, but was already in mid-jump, and
couldn't change his direction.  He had another distraction as well...he
could feel the cold rain soaking him through.  As he bowled the girl hard
over to the ground, she grumbled to herself.  As if the last week hasn't
been bad enough already.

         Turning, she extended her hand to the girl.  "Hey!  You alright?"
The girl didn't move.  Bending over, Ranma smacked the girl on the
cheek a few times.  "Hey!  Wake up!  Wake up!!"

         Slowly, the girls eyes opened.  Ranma found herself staring deep
into a pair of ice-blue eyes, still rather soft from having just woken up.
Then, the eyes hardened, into a look on determination, and anger.  Ranma
pulled back quickly.

         "I, uh, I mean...I didn't mean to hit you, really, I...EEK?"  Her
words were cut short as Shampoo sat up, grabbed Ranma's face in her hands,
and placed a kiss on her cheek.

         A gasp went up from the crowd, the loudest being those from Mousse
and Cologne.  "Shampoo!" they cried out simultaneously.

         Cologne continued.  "Shampoo!  Do you know what you've done?"
Shampoo just turned, and nodded.  Seeing the nod, and the look in Shampoo's
eyes, Cologne sighed to herself.  "You always were to headstrong, Shampoo.
But, this is your choice."  With that, the old woman hopped away on her
staff, Shampoo running after her quickly.

         Ranma just sat stunned, rubbing her cheek.  "Wha...what was that?"

         Mousse turned back to Ranma.  "That...was a custom of her village
in Russia.  The Kiss of Death."

         Ranma blanched.  "K...Kiss of what?!"

         Mousse nodded, unsmiling.  "The Kiss of Death.  It's a custom of
our village, that when a woman is knocked out by an outsider, if the
outsider is female, our woman must give her the Kiss of Death...and kill
her."

         Ranma turned even paler.  "Bu...but I didn't _do_ anything to
her!" she protested loudly.

         Mousse shrugged.  "That's what you think.  Shampoo thinks
differently."  He shrugged again, and offered a wan smile.  "Make your
peace...Shampoo is quite determined, and quite skilled."

         Ranma looked insulted.  "Hey, I'm Special Ops!  There's nobody
better than us!"

         Mousse turned away.  "Maybe...but you're still in big trouble.
Hope to see you living later."  With that he walked off in the direction
Cologne and Shampoo had already gone.

         Ranma got to her feet slowly, watching him walk away.  "Who _are_
those weirdos, anyways?"

         "Them?  They look like the new Soviet Liaison," the Captain said
from her elbow, causing Ranma to jump.  The Captain shook his head.
"You've got a real way with women, Saotome."

         Ranma shook in anger..."Shut up..." she grumbled as she stalked
off towards the barracks, kit in tow.  The Captain just watched, an
unconcealed grin on his face, and the faces of most of the squad.

The next day, dawn, at an airfield in Northern France.

         As the sun slowly rose above the eastern horizon, Kodachi smiled
at it.  Today was her day of glory..the day she would show both the RAF and
her own Luftwaffe that the German air forces could strike at the British
again, in a way they hadn't done for three years.

         It was time.  She turned her back to the flight line, where all
the aircraft of the Black Rose Squadron, every one that she could get to
fly, sat, ready.  All of her pilots and crews had been briefed...now, it
was time to get to the mission.  With a hand gesture, the first wave of her
fighters began turning over their massive piston engines.  When she saw
that they were running, she ran up into the rear cockpit of her personal
Bf-110.  Even before she was in the seat, her pilot had the engines
running, and the plane rolling over the smooth grass surface.

         Kodachi could barely contain her laughter.  It had taken almost a
year, since the formation of the Black Rose, to convince her superiors that
the attack she was about to undertake, a dawn strike on a British airfield,
using every possible weapon at her disposal, was possible.  Kodachi knew
that the patrols at this time were the weakest of the daylight patrols, and
that their vision to the east would be virtually non-existent, with the
bright morning sun in their eyes.  Kodachi had waited over a week for a day
like today...perfectly cloudless, only the sun burning in the sky.  Her
aircraft would swoop in from the east, devastate the airfield, and be gone
again before the RAF could react.  On paper, it was perfect.  In the
sky...Kodachi knew something would happen.  But she had the best squadron
in Germany, and expected no mistakes on their part.  It only remained for
the RAF to be even slightly cooperative, and play their normal morning
routines.

         As the planes flew northeast for the first leg of their journey,
Kodachi reflected on her mission...and began to laugh.

Kitty Field, at the same time.

         Ranma was tired.  Bone tired.  And sore.  And he was having
trouble breathing.  All signs that would send any sane person back to bed
for another hour or two of sleep.  Which was, of course, why he was out
running around this damned airfield.  At least there was no fog this
morning, and the air was still agreeably cool.  Ranma knew it was going to
be a scorcher later in the day, which was why he had sacrificed the extra
hour of sleep to his training.  He could always make it up later, he told
himself, knowing that he had yet to fulfill one of those promises.

         After what seemed like halfway to forever, Ranma rounded the
airfield, and was jogging back down the main street to his barracks.  There
was something up ahead...he could just make out the figure....

         Ranma's pace slowed abruptly.  Purple hair, petite figure.  No
doubt about it...he was a dead man.  He frowned at himself.  That was no
way to think!  Maybe he should just talk to her, reason it out...apply a
bit of the ol' Saotome charm on her...

         Nearing the girl, Ranma slowed to a walk, taking long strides, to
shake the kinks out of the muscles before they set in.  As he neared the
girl, she glanced at him, then looked away, surprising him considerably.
He decided on a new tactic.

         Very carefully not looking at her Ranma kept right on walking.  He
was just about past her, when...

         "Excuse, please?"  Ranma jerked to a stop, a groan barely escaping
his lips.  He was doomed.

         Turning to face the girl, Ranma forced a feeble looking grin to
his face.  "Uh....yeah?"

         The girl looked at him strangely for a few minutes, then seemed to
give a mental shrug.  She continued.  "Do you know way to..." she paused,
and looked down at a piece of paper in her hand.  "...mess hall?"

         "Uh, look, I'm really sorry, I=FAdidn't mean to jump out of the
truck like that last night, and anyways, if you'd just like to....huh?"
Ranma's mouth shot on, a full five seconds ahead of his brain.  The girls
words finally sunk in.  "The mess hall?"

         The girl looked up at him, giving him an even warier look.
"Y..yes.  Is that what this say?"  She held out the paper for examination.

         Ranma took the paper, and looked at it.  "Uh, yeah...mess hall.
Um...well, I'm heading that way myself anyways...wanna come with me?"

         The girl smiled with relief, and nodded.  "Thank you!"  She
suddenly stopped, and looked worried.  "Ah, I no introduce myself.  My name
Shampoo."

         Ranma blinked a bit.  "Shampoo, huh?  That's an odd name.  I'm
Ranma Saotome.  Nice to meet you."  He offered his hand, which Shampoo
took, and shook shyly.  "C'mon, lets go eat."

         As the pair walked off, Ranma realized.  Of course!  I was female
last night, so she didn't recognize me!  Or, well...Maybe she just doesn't
want to kill me anymore.  Guess it doesn't matter right now...and anyways,
the Saotome charm seems to have worked.  He grinned to himself.

         "What you smiling at?" Shampoo wondered.

         "Ah, this?  Eh-heh...its nothing,"  Ranma stammered.  "Nothing at
al--what was that?"
       
         Shampoo was also on guard, ears poised.  "Airplanes!  Headed this
way!"

         "Aw, shit...I thought that was _over_ here!  Where are th...look
out!"  Ranma grabbed Shampoo in his arms, and dove, just as the first wave
of fighters blasted over the barracks, cannon blazing away at anything that
moved, or didn't move.

         Shampoo screamed at shells exploded in the dirt, bare feet away
from them.  Without pausing his roll, Ranma leapt to his feet, checking to
make sure the girl was okay.  To his surprise, she was down before he was,
already sprinting towards the nearest building.  Ranma quickly followed
after her...taking the time to risk one glance over his shoulder as he ran.
 What he saw chilled his blood.

         "Shampoo!  Look out!!"  Ranma pushed himself as hard as he could,
diving to tackle Shampoo to the ground, just as the iron bomb sailed over
their heads, and into the building Shampoo had been running for.  A
deafening explosion came, followed by distorted images of flying debris, a
world-shattering THUD from behind him, and blackness.

         "Wake up!"  The voice was dim, and groggy...unimportant.  It was
so warm, in the dark...so soft and warm and--<WHACKO>

         <WHACKO>?  What was--<WHACKO>  Ow, hey that hurts!  Slowly, a
sliver of light penetrated into his brain...the light resolving itself into
an image of Shampoo kneeing over him, hand raised to slap him again.

         "Wh...whoa, hold it...I'm awake now."  Ranma raised his head to
indicate his awakeness, wincing at the movement.  "Oh jeez that hurts..."

         "Ranma?  You okay?"  Shampoo's face loomed over him, her face a
picture of concern.

         "Uh...yeah, really...I'm just ducky--ERK!"

         Shampoo threw her arms around him.  "You save Shampoo!!  You
I love!"

         "Wh...what?"

Stockholm

         Sipping his drink slowly, the man leaned against the bar, trying
not to let his annoyance show.  She was late.  Again.  The second time in
as many rendezvous.  Giving a heavy sigh, he straightened up, knocking the
last of the brandy back, before pulling out a comb, and giving his hair a
final few adjustments in the mirror behind the bar.  There was no time left
before the show...and, that meant, this evening was a disaster.  He wasn't
used to those.

         Standing, the man tugged out the barely perceptible creases that
had appeared in his tuxedo jacket, before striding to the door.  Swinging
it open, he took one step beyond its bounds before a red-gloved hand
reached out to block his path.

         "Now, now, Monsieur, you're surely not thinking of attending the
performance without me?"  The sultry tones came from the opposite end of
the arm.

         Gritting his teeth, the man turned to face the woman, her eyes
glinting with mischievous light beneath her short brown hair, her mouth
turned up in her amused grin.  Trying to control his voice, he said, "Why
yes, Miss Tendo, I _was_.  But since you're chosen to treat me with your
company this evening, shall we attend the show together?"

         Nabiki's grin widened, and the arm across his chest vanished, to
be replaced by another arms winding its way through his.  "Why yes, Mr.
Sanzenin.  I'd be delighted."  Her eyes said something else...that she was
fully enjoying this match of charms.

         Mikado smiled, at ease now.  "Then, mon cherie, let us go.  The
performance is about to start, and I've heard that Mr. Johnston can be
quite angered by those who interrupt his performances."  A little glimmer
of light flashed from his teeth as he offered Nabiki a smile, pulling her
gently towards the theatre entrance.

         A man who thinks far too highly of himself, Nabiki's mind
catalogued him as he led her to the theatre, chattering away with innocuous
remarks.  Nabiki played along, nodding, smiling, and making the appropriate
responses as they went.  But he's not bad looking, her mind continued, and
he is taking a rather large risk for me.  I at least owe it to him to be
nice to him for the evening.

         Once inside, the pair took their seats, front row, in the center.
A hush fell over the crowd as the Swedish Philharmonic Orchestra began
their tuning, then, without a significant pause, bursting into the first of
their selections for the evening, Tsichovski's 1812 Overture, a salute to
the Russians.

         The first half of the evening seemed to rush by, as the orchestra
ran through their selections for the evening.  Nabiki enjoyed the
performance thoroughly, having heard nothing but Aryan marches and airs for
the past months in Germany.  Also, she found herself enjoying Mikado's
company.  As with their first encounter, many months before, he was the
perfect gentleman, courteous in every respect to her.  He was also clearly
accustomed to high society...he knew exactly the right people to greet as
the entered the theatre, and knew precisely how long and how strong the
applause for each piece should be.  Mikado, for his part, was also
thoroughly enjoying himself.  Nabiki was still a relative unknown to him,
and the challenge she was providing was interesting, although, he knew it
couldn't last forever against him.  He had paid scant attention to the
performance, and had instead spent most of the evening sizing her
up...examining her outfit in the dim light, identifying her perfume by its
smell.  Thus, when the curtain was lowered for the intermission, both young
people found themselves fresh, and ready for whatever more the evening
might hold for them.

         Just outside the theatre doors, Nabiki suddenly turned, and struck
a pose, one arm thrown back over her head, the other resting lightly on a
hip, one leg locked, the other with knee bent.  "Well, Mr. Sanzenin?
You've been trying to get a look at me all night in the theatre.  I must
confess surprise you failed to do so before we entered, but, now I'm giving
you an opportunity.  How do you like it?"

         Mikado smiled, not letting his mild surprise at having been caught
in the theatre show.  "My dear Miss Tendo, I must humbly ask your pardon.
I was so busy reintroducing myself to the social crowd that I neglected
you.  Now, allow me to examine you."  With a grin to soften the mock leer
he put on, he exaggeratedly slowly looked her over.

         Well, Maybe its not a completely fake leer, he told himself, as
his eyes swept up her figure.  She had chosen a flowing red satin gown for
the evening.  The skirt trailed on the floor, extending half a meter behind
her as she walked.  The dress fit tight across her stomach and across the
sweep of her breasts, climbing to a high collar, with a delicate red-flower
design.  The dress was also quite daring, in that it left her shoulders and
back bare, long gloves completing the effect.

         "A vision worthy of Venus," he smiled, earning a smirk as she
dropped the pose.  Resting his hand in his chin, he cocked an eyebrow at
her.  "And me?  Do I not get the same sort of appraisal?"

         Nabiki laughed.  "Conceit becomes you.  I can't say that of many
people."  Mikado frowned, but it dropped as she laughed again.  "But, let
me see..."  Nabiki's voice dropped off as she rested her own chin in her
hand, and gave him an appraising look.

         Conceit isn't the only thing that becomes him, she thought as her
gaze swept up his body.  From feet clad in mirror-bright black leather
shoes, his legs, in loose-fitting black slacks led to the cumberbund, a
silk of the same shade of red as her dress.  His ruffled white shirt was
immaculate, and unlike many of the theatre patrons, was stretched tight
across a muscled chest, rather than a flabby gut.  His jacket fit perfectly
across his square shoulders, the bright, stiff white of the collar, tied
with a red bow tie, making a pleasant contrast to the darkness.  "Passable,
as you British would say.  Very...passable."

         Mikado laughed, but went on guard, spotting the opening she had
left him.  "You English?  I am afraid you have the advantage of me, Miss
Tendo.  I am afraid I can't place your accent."  He played his opening.

         Nabiki smiled.  He was smarter than he looked.  "My accent?
Surely it's not that apparent!"  She feigned horror.  "And I've practised
so hard on my English!"

         Mikado replied to her line.  "As, to the untrained ear, perhaps
not.  But to mine...I'm afraid none can escape.  German?"

         Nabiki smiled, partially in relief.  This was the ok signal...only
her signal left.  "Yes, you are dead right.  South German...Austrian, to be
precise."

         Mikado gave himself a slight smile at that.  Last time it was
Czech.  The girl had a gift for accents.  His smile abruptly faded, and was
replaced with a look of intense concentration.  "Later, inside."  His look
changed to one of earnest desperation.  "I have...something very important
to say to you."

         Nabiki barely repressed a chuckle.  Sanzenin was certainly her
equal, at least in acting ability.  But, considering his entertainment
background, that was to be expected.  But, anyone who could pull off saying
code lines, and manage to convey the importance of the mission, in such a
setting, and in such a brazen manner, clearly deserved her respect.  "Ah,
is that so?"  She turned away, blushing.  "I...I have something to tell you
too."

         Mikado's smile brightened, for reasons quite different than anyone
listening would think.  "Ah...then...we shall wait.  Until after the
performance."  He took her arm again.  "Now, perhaps you would like a
drink?"

         Turning her face up to him, Nabiki smiled.  "I'd love one."  With
an answering smile, Mikado guided her over to the small wet bar.

         Thirty minutes later, they were seated in the theatre again.  This
was the highlight of the show.  Accompanied by the Swedish Philharmonic,
Mr. Johnston, one of the most renowned pianists of the age, was giving one
of his rare performances.  A hush fell over the crowd as the curtain
raised, revealing the maestro himself, a bulking, bearded, balding man,
seated himself at the stool, and launched, without preamble, into his first
piece.

         As the concert continued, Nabiki slowly reached for her purse.
Soundlessly opening the zipper, she reached inside, and open another,
secret, compartment inside the container.  From this, she extracted two
small cannisters, which she put in the palm of her left hand.

         Mikado noticed the movement, and began his own preparations.
Again, soundlessly, he reached casually into his inside pocket, like a man
looking for some matches or something.  When his hand returned, it
contained a handkerchief, which he placed in his left hand, and mopped his
brow with.  With his right hand, he casually reached across the seat
divider, and took Nabiki's hand, as the song reached its climax.

         Nabiki caught her breath, as did much of the audience, as Mr.
Johnston's skilled fingers wrought seemingly impossible sounds from the
keyboard.  She closed her eyes, feeling the electricity from from her body,
down her arm, to the four canisters held between the palms of their two
hands.  As the music lowered again, and the lights raised, the two released
their hands, giving each other furtive, almost embarassed glances that
earned discreet chuckles from the few onlookers.

         Nabiki forced the triumphant smile down as she reached into her
purse for a tissue, dropping the cannisters inside.   Mikado, for his part,
didn't try as hard to conceal his smile...as his cannisters were placed
back in the pocket with his handkerchief.
       
         With his smile intact, Mikado extended his arm to Nabiki again.
"Well, my dear?  Shall we adjourn for the evening, or would you, like I,
enjoy a nightcap?"

         Taking his arm, she smiled into his eyes.  "Why yes, I'd love
one."  With him, they walked out of the theatre, into the foyer.  Nabiki
was surprised when he didn't head to the wet bar.  "Ah, not the theatres
establishment?"

         Mikado shook his head.  "No, rather, someplace quieter.  Someplace
more conductive to conversation, so that we may....become better
acquainted."

         Uh-oh...this may have gone a little too well, Nabiki thought to
herself.  How do I=FAget myself out of this gracefully.  Smiling warmly at
him, and saying how wonderful the idea sounded, her mind interrupted her.
Do you _want_ to get out of this?

         Shut up, she told herself as they walked out the doors.  This is
just acting.  Besides, a girls entitled to a night on the town once in
awhile, right?  Sure, Nabiki, her mind told her.  Just go right on thinking
that.

         After a short walk, in the warm summer air, the couple arrived at
a small establishment, near a better part of the waterfront.  Clearly
catering to the upper levels of Stockholm society, inside, the nightclub
was softly lit, with widely separated tables.  The conversation was hushed,
obscured by the faint film of smoke above the room.  It took Nabiki all of
three seconds to realize that this was where influential young Swedes took
others to court them.

         Carefully, Mikado guided her to a table and seated her.
Instantly, a waiter was at the table.  "Ah, Mr. Sanzenin.  A lovely evening
isn't it?"

         Mikado nodded and smiled.  "Why yes, it is Lars.  My usual for me,
and for Miss Tendo...?"  He looked over at her.

         "Ah, I'm not used to very much alcohol, so one glass a night is my
limit.  So for me, just an iced Coke."

        Lars nodded, and smiled.  "Certainly, Miss.  A coke for the lady,
and a Caesar for the gentleman.  I'll be right out."  With that, he
vanished back into the shadows.

         Nabiki smiled at his departure, then leaned over the table, a
serious look on her face.  "Mr. Sanzenin, you can't fool me.  You hijacked
me out of the performance, taking me to this...singles club, with the
intention of seducing me, didn't you?"  As she spoke, she let a playfull
smile cross her face, to show that she didn't really mind.  See?  her mind
told her.  Quiet, I know what I'm doing.

         Mikado sighed, leaning casually back in his chair, and giving his
hair a brief flip with his fingers.  "I'm afraid, Miss, you've found me
out.  Yes, it is true, that my first thought upon seeing you this evening
was imagining how it would be to feel those lovely lips of your pressed
against my own."

         A bit surprised by the directness of the answer, Nabiki leaned
back in her seat.  "Kissing me?  Is that the first thing you thought about
me?"

         Mikado leaned forwards in his chair again, smiling.  "Why yes,
since our first meeting those many months ago.  Sometimes, at nights, I've
lied awake, wondering, what a kiss with you would be like."  He sighed
theatrically.  "Alas, it seems from your reluctance, that this rapture is
to never be."

         Minus five points, buddy, Nabiki thought to herself with a smirk.
Nice lines, but they're not working on me.  "Alas, that is true, Mr.
Sanzenin.  My father is very strict...I'm sure if he ever found out I
was...immodest, that his emotions would quite simply overwhelm him."  At
this half lie, Nabiki had great difficulty keeping a straight face.  Her
father certainly would have trouble containing himself...the wedding would
be planned out before she even finished the first sentence.

         Mikado leaned back in his chair, mentally scoring himself a couple
points.  "Immodest?" he inquired, a tone of heavy sarcasm in his voice.
"Wearing a scandalous outfit like that, and you worry about your modesty?"

         Nabiki was caught short...by her standards, this outfit was quite
demure, not nearly as radical as the ones she normally wore.  But, she was
usually radical to the radicals.  The arrival of Lars with their drinks
saved her.  With a quiet smile, and a nod, the drinks were placed, and the
waiter withdrew again.  Composed again, Nabiki took hers, and gave it a
sip.  Time for her next line.

         "Ah, you've seen through my veneer.  Yes, its true, I am demure no
more...the world has had a profound effect on me.  One that I like to think
is for the better."

         He nodded.  "Yes...it surely has.  I can't imagine you as modest
in any way, not now."  He offered her a mildly lecherous grin over the rim
of his Caesar as he gave her a mild salute with it.

         Hurriedly, Nabiki picked up her own glass.  Nice move, she told
herself.  Not only have you encouraged him, you've encouraged you!  Now
what are you going to do?

         The same thing I always do, she responded.  Have fun.  She sipped
some Coke from her own glass, giving Mikado a teasing wink as she did so.

Gualdalcanal

         The sergeant knew it was hopeless.  The odds were just too great
to calculate now.  His so-called company of Marines was down to less than a
platoon, a bare sixteen men who could be called effective, half of those
wounded or ill.  Against this, he faced five thousand of the Imperial
Army's elite, trained specially in jungle warfare.  But, he was a soldier,
dammit, and would defend this position to the death.

         "Sergeant!  Sergeant!"  A cry from the bushes to his left.  There
was no point in hiding themselves...the damned Japs knew where they were
now anyways.  This was probably the news he had been waiting for...the news
that finally, they were on the move.

         A tall, thin private burst out of the bushes next to him, making a
stark contrast to the short, heavyset sergeant.  "What is it, Private?"

         The man paused a moment to catch his breath.  "Jus...just got the
word from the scout sarge.  They're movin'...and they got tanks!"

         "Sweet Jesus," the sergeant mumbled.  Tanks.  This was worse than
he imagined.  He had never even heard of their Special Forces units using
tanks.  Damn them!  Din't they ever do anything _predictable?!_

         Now was too late for such thoughts.  He could hear the rumbling in
the distance already...the deep-throated roar of the massive engines.
Soon, he knew, he'd hear the squeal and squeak of the tank treads...and
when he heard that sound, he'd know that the roar of their big guns
wouldn't be far behind.

         He wheeled to face the private.  "Quickly man!  Go, get to your
position!  If their tanks are moving, that means their infantry are too!
Get to your holes, so we at least have a chance of holding them off!"  The
private did as ordered, although he knew it was hopeless.  The Captain and
the Lieutenant had died this way...along with his own trenchmate, and
countless others in the company.  He'd fight, even though he knew he was
going to die.

         The sergeant ran to his own position, at the head of the
trenchline.  It was time.  He had made his peace...now it was time to earn
his reward.

         As he dropped into his trench, he heard a rustling from the bushes
Immediately in front of him.  Too soon!  His scouts had missed the infantry
moving, and they were already here!  He raised his rifle to his shoulder,
cursing, as the first soldier burst through the bushes.

         Point and shoot, point and shoot.  Don't bother trying to aim,
just point the damn thing and shoot it.  Fire off enough rounds, and you'll
eventually hit something.  All down his firing line he heard his men doing
the same thing, their shots almost being drowned out by the screams of the
Japanese as they died around them.  But it didn't really matter...they
could kill twenty of them for each of themselves, and they'd still lose.
Then, the final note came into the battle.  The crashing sound of a tank
cannon.

         The sergeant cursed, and redoubled his fire.  He'd take as many of
these bastards as he could with him.  Fire till he was out of ammo, then,
jump out of his trench and go after them with his knife.  Then, go after
one of those damned tanks...one of the tanks.  The thought nagged at him.
Something was wrong with their tanks.  It took a moment before it finally
sunk in.

         The tanks were shooting the wrong people!  The shells were
falling short, blasting into the rear ranks of the Japanese!  They were
trapped...the line of tanks closing in behind, and a dug-in section of
infantry in front.  They had nowheres to go, but try to escape the killing
field from the side.

         Which is exactly what they were trying to do.  The sergeant
screamed at his men not to follow, that they were too weak.  His men didn't
argue...not with two more wounded and one more dead.  Let the tanks take
care of it. There certainly seemed to be enough of them out there.

         A few moments later, the tanks rolled to a halt in front of their
lines.  The sergeant just stared at them.  They were American!  But,
everyone knew the few tanks on this cursed island were at Henderson Field,
guarding the base, not out here at these remote outposts.  Then who...then
his eyes caught the emblem on the lead tanks turret.

         Ryouga popped the hatch of his tank, and peered out.  It certainly
was strange, finding Japanese soldiers on Sicily.  A part of his mind
whispered to him that this wasn't Sicily, that he had gotten lost again.
Ryouga angrily told that part of his mind to shut up, his eyes surveying
the wide-eyed men coming out of their foxholes.  Finally, his eyes found
the sergeant.

         "Excuse me, do you know the way to Palermo?"

         The sergeants eyes bugged out.  "Palermo?  But this is....this's
Gualdalcanal!"

         Ryouga clenched his fist as that nagging voice in his head crowed,
I told you so!  Regaining control of his voice, he nodded briefly. "I see.
Thank you."  With that, he dropped back into his tank, and bolted the hatch
over himself.  With a spoken command over the radio, all the tanks backed
up, wheeled around, and drove off.

         The private walked up to the sergeant.  "Uh, sarge?  Wasn't that
guy..."

         The sergeant nodded, cutting the man off.  "Yes son, he was.  And
I get the feeling that won't be the last we see of him, either."  The two
men just looked at each other, shrugged, and went about cleaning up after
the firefight.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
And that's the end of Part 4!  Very gracious thanks to Celia Stingray for
the use of her computer to write this story as I trekked across the
continental states!  Watch for Part 5 when I write it!

As usual, all comments, questions, criticisms, etc, are welcome, and
should be sent to wstone@gpu.srv.ualberta.ca.  Flames will be read,
laughed at, and disposed of, never to be given a second thought.

Ranma - The Fall of the Eagle Part 5
by James Stone
wstone@gpu.srv.ualberta.ca
(c) 1995 Stone Age Productions  All Rights Reserved
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Ardennes

	Nabiki sat in the back of the staff car, looking out the window
with a neutral expression locked on her face.  On the outside, she looked
just how she wanted...a young lady who enjoyed the good life, a bit
rebellious for the restrictiveness of the Reich, but knowing exactly what
the limits were.  Inside, her mind was churning with the information she
had recieved in Stockholm.

	She hadn't known it at the time, of course.  Her analysis of the
information had had to wait until she returned to Berlin, where she could
develop the microfilm.  That had been quite a night, she reminisced with
a hint of a smile.  That night the English had decided to pay a visit to
the capital.  One bomb had exploded not a block away, shaking Nabiki's
basement lab violently, causing bits of plaster to fall from the walls. 
But the building had held, and by that time the film was already
developed, so, it had been an inconvenience, nothing more.

	A slight smile crept to her face.  No doubt Mikado had known
about the raid...he knew everything in that department.  He had also
known she'd be in the city that evening, although probably not that she'd
be actually working.  No doubt it was meant as a warning to her, of her
vulnerability...from both sides.

	The downshifting of the gears warned her that she was reaching
her destination.  Without undue haste, she began to make a few final
checks of herself...making sure the uniform she wore was properly turned
out, that her shoes were properly polished.  With a compact in her purse,
she checked her makeup.  Nothing blatant, just enough to emphasize her
features.  She knew it disturbed Kunou when she dressed in uniform like
this, all the more so when she took the trouble to make herself look even
better.

	The car pulled up in the wide circular driveway, and pulled to a
halt.  Nabiki waited for the driver to get out, and circle the car to
open the door, before stepping out, giving him a smile in thanks. 
Another trick of hers...treat those below her like people.  Too few of the
Nazis remembered that, which only increased her popularity and respect. 
All these little tricks and games...all of them meant to do nothing but
increase her power over Kunou, and those beneath him.

	Walking with purposeful strides, she mounted the steps to the old
chateaux that was serving the Reich as a headquarters.  No doubt
personally selected by Kunou, she thought.  He's got a flair for that. 
Not slackening her pace, she marched straight down the hall, not even
pausing at the desk of his aide.  Instead, she just opened the door and
walked into his office.  Clicking her heels together, she stopped halfway
to his desk, and saluted.  "Colonel Tendo returning from duty, sir!" 
Still holding the salute, she let her face drop from its military rigid
posture to a teasing grin.  "Glad to see me, Herr General?"

	Kunou's so cute when he flushes like that, she thought to herself
with a repressed giggle.  He really ought to be careful though, the
stress on his heart can't be healthy.  With great difficulty, she saw, he
managed to bring himself back under control, the blood draining back out
of his face.

	Coughing, ostensibly to clear his throat, Kunou nodded.  "Yes,
Colonel, as a matter of fact I am.  All of my divisions have been
awaiting your return...I hope you won't disappoint us."

	His voice contained a note of threat, which, Nabiki suddenly
realized, might be more than mere posturing this time.  Kunou had been
under a lot of pressure from his superiors, including the Fuhrer himself,
to put an end to the resistance groups.  The latest attack, at a bridge
east of Paris, had prevented a crack Anti-Aircraft unit from reaching its
destination for almost a day...which was half a day after US bombers had
flattened the smelter it was supposed to defend.  Well, she thought to
herself, this ought to make him happy.  She walked to the desk and
dropped a sealed envelope on it.  "Would the next target of that
troublesome Resistance cell be good enough?"

	Kunou snatched the file off the desk and ripped it open, pulling
the photographic plates out and scanning them quickly.  "This...this
is..."  He looked at the roof, his fingers clutching the photos tightly
in his hands.  "Yes...I have them now.  I'll capture them, and use them
as an example to all the other Resistance cells out there!  I will show
them how their petty acts of slinking cowardice can by no means match the
full, rising brilliance of the great Teutonic Empire..."

	Nabiki managed not to wince as Kunou droned on.  Typical, she
thought...him turning a minor victory into the turning point of the war. 
Still, she smiled, it would be for the best.  The cell Kunou captured
would no doubt be publicly executed.  But far from inspiring the other
cells to run in fear, they would become martyrs, and only strengthen
their position in the French populace.  One cell would be destroyed, and
dozens more would appear.  Soon, the whole country would be in rebellion,
and the time would be ripe to invade.

	Not a sign of this thought appeared on her face...her slightly
smug smile being for the value of the information she brought.  As Kunou
began to taper off, she inclined her head slightly.  "Herr General...?"
she inquired, letting her voice trail off.

	Kunou looked like he had noticed something nasty as he came back
to reality.  "Ah, yes, Colonel?  You're dismissed..."

	She pouted playfully.  "Surely that's not all the reward I get
for such valuable information?  Why, I was almost killed developing that
and getting to you."

	Nabiki only meant that as a bait, to tease Kunou with, which was
why when his face turned to one of utter shock, then anger, she was so
surprised.  Oh no, she thought.  I've pushed it too far.  Then, as she
heard what he began ranting at, her face went slack in surprise.

	"Killed?!  You...were almost killed?  Was it in Berlin?"  When
she nodded, her face still shocked, his only grew more angry.  "Fools! 
I've seen where they've stuck you to do your work!  A basement, barely
adequate for devolping film, let alone surviving a bomb attack.  To think
that they would place you in such danger!"

	It...can't be, Nabiki thoughtto herself.  He can't actually
be...concerned about me?

	Kunou turned to her, his face still flushed, but calmer now.  "To
place a woman in danger...this will change.  I will see to it when I go
to Berlin next.  Now..."  He gestured with his hand, dismissing her finally.

	Nabiki just nodded dumbly, and turning, walked out the door.  So,
that's it.  He just can't see a woman in danger.  She smiled just a bit
as she walked down the hallway to her quarters.  Still, it just shows he's
better than most of the beasts around here.  Too good for them.  Shaking
her head slightly, amused, she walked off, her footfalls fading as she
left the office.

	Kunou stood behind his desk, still angered slightly.  To think
they'd place a beautiful woman in danger.  He meant what he had said to
her...things would change.  He'd tell those fools in Berlin exactly what
should be done.  Although...getting them to listen might be difficult,
unless he could report success.

	He smiled, looking down at the folder on his desk.  And success
was exactly what he'd bring.  Looking up again, he barked a single
command.  "Gosunkugi!"

	Less than a minute later the Major appeared.  "You called,
General Kunou?" he asked nervously.

	"Yes, I did.  Come here and take a look at this."  Gosunkugi
scuttled over to the table, and picked up the photos, reading over them
quickly.  His eyes went wide, making the dark circles under them appear
even wider.  Kunou just smiled and nodded at the reaction.

	"Exactly," he smiled grimly.  "Now we have the information we
need.  And on the group of cowards that's caused us the most trouble!"

	Gosunkugi nodded, and looked over the documents again, reading
more carefully this time.  "Ah, what's this?" he wondered.  "The leader of
this cell is a woman?"

	Kunou blinked.  "What?"  He snatched the documents away, and
scanned them, his fingers again clutching them tighter as he read.  Then,
they loosened, and he leaned his head back, a slight frown on his face. 
"A pity...that a woman would have to go to such lengths.  But she has
chosen to be an enemy of the state.  Such is her fate."

	Gosunkugi just nodded, no visible emotion registering on his
face.  "How do you want me to procede, General?"

	Kunou smiled.  "What is the American term?  Oh yes...a 'blank
cheque'."  He turned, and resumed looking at the strategic map.  "Do
whatever is necessary."  He didn't acknowledge Gosunkugi's salute and
departure, already lost instead in the thought of the glory it would
bring him...

Kitty Field

	The man sighed as he walked up the short flight of steps to the
building.  Back home at last.  He should have felt glad, he knew...he was
in relative safety again, at last.  But...he didn't.  Instead he
felt...bored.

	It didn't help the boredom to see the wreckage of the building
across the street.  Only days before, the Luftwaffe had struck, their
first effective attack in two years.  Almost a hundred killed, double
that wounded and  unable to fight.  Amazingly enough, though, the
Germans had missed the bombers almost entirely, instead inflicting their
casualities on the fighter wings based here.  At least we can still
strike back, the man thought with a slight smile.

	And that's why he never liked it here, he told himself.  Here, he
was safe, protected.  Out _there_...he was living on the edge, risking
his life everytime he spoke.  Oh, the glamourous life of a spy, Mikado
Sanzenin thought to himself.

	But even that had changed.  Gone were those heady days in the
months before the war, traveling in disguise through the heart of the
Reich, gathering information from the German High Command in his own
inimitable style...through their women.  Their daughters and wives talked
too much, just like they all did when being wooed by such a handsome man
as he.  It was wonderful...hearing their laughs, smelling their scents,
tasting their lips....

	Mikado loved women.  He freely admitted it, admitted he was a
playboy of the highest degree.  But, he told those who asked, why should
looks such as mine go to waste?  Would it be right for me to deny myself
to the ladies of the world?  The men scowled jealously...the women, more
often then not, would laugh delicately and hide their smiles behind an
upraised glass or serviette.

	It was a jealous father that had seen him retired from his
missions inside the Reich, gathering information firsthand.  The old
buffon, Count von Hollenzwhersomethingorother had accused the young
Mikado of being a spy and a traitor to the Reich.  Mikado smirked to
himself at the memory.  The Count had fabricated the charge to take care
of the younger man.  If only he knew....  But he had succeeded in forcing
Mikado to flee Germany, leaving, no doubt, scores of broken hearts behind.

	Now, he had a new task...he was a case officer, the man whom the
frontline spies reported to.  Which was why, the night of the attack, he
had spent a delightful evening with Miss Tendo, listening to the
wonderful sounds of the Swedish Philharmonic Orchestra.  A fitting cover,
he thought, for an expatriate Danish scientist.

	A slight frown.  That was troublesome...the fact that his cover in
Sweden was as a scientist.  It certainly was convenient...he would be
expected to travel in higher circles, and unexplained absences could be
explained as research trips.  But in reality, Mikado was ignorant of
science.  He just memorized what they gave him, and smiled prettily for
the higher society.  So far it had worked...no real scientist had met him
yet.

	But, senior as Mikado was, he was still only a gatherer, someone
who got the information.  He didn't have the ability to process the
information.  Instead, that job went to...to....

	Mikado sighed.  Time to end his reminiscing...he was there. 
Approaching the desk in front of the door, he looked at the USAAF
sergeant sitting there.

	"Sergeant, Lieutenant Colonel Sanzenin reporting to see the
Brigadier."  He looked down at the man behind the desk.  Young looking, his
combat uniform looked a bit baggy.  The base security emblem was prominent on
his shoulder, and his hair...was arranged oddly.  Mikado shrugged
inwardly.  Bloody Yanks...they're all weird.

	The Sergeant looked up.  "Ah, sir.  You can go right in.  The.." 
Suddenly, a loud crash and high-pitched squealing burst from behind the
door.  The sergeant and the commander winced simultaneously. 
"...Brigadier will see you now."  Shaking his head, the sergeant bent
back to his paperwork.

	Nodding to the Sergeant, Mikado approached the door.  Reaching for the
knob, he braced himself before opening it and stepping inside quickly.

	It looked like a snowstorm inside.  Papers were flying
everywheres, some torn, some not, some looking somehow like they had
fused together in flight.  Stirring the massive billowing cloud was a
small tornado rushing around the room circling the heavy oaken desk at a
rate of one revolution per second.  Taking a deep breath, Mikado
reported, "Lieutenant Colonel Sanzenin reporting as ordered, SAH!"

	The tornado paid no attention.  Instead, its path changed
slightly, aiming for a small piece of pink paper almost lost in the
white.  High-pitched squeals emitted from the tornado, a grating,
irritating sound, guaranteed to strip vanish off wood.

	Mikado sighed, and repeated himself, a bit more forcefully.  No
response, again.  Now the squeals and giggles were more pronounced, its
path wider as the little pink scrap of paper was buffeted around the
room.  He tried a third time, even louder still.  The tornado responded
with a hearty cry of, "JOSEPHINE!!!!" and lunged for the pink slip of paper.

	The man sighed, and plucked it out of the air as it flew by.  The
tornado didn't notice, and instead rushed around the desk twice more. 
Finally, with an ear splitting bellow, Mikado screamed, "I'VE GOT YOUR
JOSEPHINE, YOU STUPID GIRL!!!"

	The papers flying around the room stopped, and seemed to give a
collective sigh as the dropped to the ground simultaneously.  The tornado
had halted mid-rush, growing two huge blue eyes in the process.  The long
brown curls settled fluffily around the small face, set above a tiny body
clothed in a British Brigadier's dress uniform.  A simple pin-on nametag
over her right breast pocket read, "Shiratori."

	She blinked a few times.  "Josephine?"

	Mikado sighed, extending the paper.  "Yes.  Here you go."

	The Brigadier snatched it away.  "Yay!!  Thank you, Mikkie! 
Azusa's so HAPPY!!"  The girl bounced around the room merrily, pink paper
fluttering cutely in the air.

	Mikado sighed to himself.  What joke of fate had assigned him to
HER?  Azusa Shiratori, the only child of one of the wealthiest and most
influential families in England.  As a result, she had been spoiled
absolutely rotten by her doting parents...anything she had ever found
'cute' they had gotten her.  And when they couldn't get it, she took it
anyways.  Azusa was ruthless about getting things she wanted...and since
anything 'cute' was, in her view, rightfully hers, she didn't feel the
slightest regret about taking it.  Thankfully, Mikado thought to himself,
her definition of 'cute' did NOT include him personally.  It had,
however, included his field camera, two disguise kits, and several
medals, all of which were now a permanent fixture of Shiratori Manor.

	He tried to get things back to business.  "Ah, sir?" he
prompted.  Azusa continued her merry bouncing.  "Sir?" somewhat more
forcefully.  Nothing.  A deep breath, and..."AZUSA!!"

	Azusa stopped her bouncing.  "Huh?" she said, turning to face Mikado.

	Mikado sighed.  "My report from Miss Tendo?"

	Azusa oh!d in surprise.  "Azusa had forgotten.  Sit down Mikkie,
we'll go over it."  Azusa went around to her seat behind the desk.  No
ordinary high-backed leather chair, this one was festooned with pink and
lavendar ribbons and bows.  No taste was too much for the Brigadier.

	Mikado tried not to flich as he seated himself in a white-lace
clouded chair across from the desk.  While he didn't believe in the 'less
is more' taste, there WERE limits.  Not that telling her that would do
any good, he reminded himself.  Now...the fun part came.  The briefing. 
Opening his file, Mikado began.

	Through it all, he tried to keep his voice as level as possible,
not to let his irritation at his superior officer show.  Even with his
years of practise at hiding his true emotions, however, he couldn't help
but to emit a slighty edged voice as Azusa began to doodle on a lampshade
with a neon-pink marker.  Nor could he help himself from snatching a
small ashtray away from her hand when she suddenly noticed how the
sunlight glinted off of it from a certain angle.  That, at least seemed
to get through to her, miraculously, and she sat through the rest of the
report with only minimal fidgeting, only jumping up once to giggle and
point at a bird she named, "Juliet."

	Mikado sighed as he came to the end of the report.  "If I may be
permitted to draw some of my own conclusions, the appointment of General
Kunou to deal with the Resistance is somewhat worrying.  He was very
effective at crushing resistance groups in Poland and Denmark, after
all.  He takes things personally against them...he's very big on personal
honor."

	Azusa suddenly turned to face him, her face showing something
rare...intelligence.  "Still, the French resistance is much better
organized then in those two countries.  Their cells are better known to
each other, they communicate.  Your information confirms what I had
suspected...that we can draw Kunou into a trap."

	Mikado blinked.  "A trap?"

	Azusa nodded.  "Yes...by making him think he's winning, he'll put
more of his troops into France to fight the Resistance.  The groups that
are left will be enraged at the deaths of their comrades, but more than
that, will have learned.  They'll be better fighters, and will wreak
havoc.  In the meantime, Kunou's whole army will be tied up, leaving no
reinforcements for a second front."

	"Then...the information I gave to Miss Tendo was...?"

	The Brigadier nodded.  "Yes...those groups are bait."

	He nodded.  It was terrible, sacrificing those live to that end,
but this was a war, one with its own price to be paid.  But still...he
certainly never expected anything like that to come from Azusa....

	Azusa just smiled at him....until she noticed a glint off the
bookshelf on the far wall.  "Oh!  What a cute book cover!  Francoise! 
Come home with me!!"

	Outside the door, the Sergeant cringed again as he heard the
sound of an overturning desk, and a cry of pain as it landed on the
Commander.  With a rueful sigh, the Sergeant bent to his work again. 
Only a few more weeks of this and he'd be back on base security detail. 
He'd heard that an American Special Forces team was on base...mabye that
meant...he shook his head.  He's in China, he told himself, forcing
himself to concentrate...

	In the corner, a potted plant, just arrived yesterday rustled in
the hot, sluggish air...

Kitty Field, Base Hospital

	Kasumi made her rounds quickly, much more quickly than usual. 
Her heart was pounding, her breathing just a touch quicker than normal. 
Had the recovery room not been so full, the other nurses might mave even
noticed the slight flush in her cheeks, and wondered, because Nurse Tendo
was always the most stable and composed among them.  Of course, had they
known why, they wouldn't have worried...they would have been happy for
their head nurse.  Nurse Tendo had a date.

	She was sure she must be making a perfect fool out of herself,
the way she was rushing around, like a little girl, wanting to get
everything done NOW.  She could feel the flush in her cheeks, and was
sure that was completely obvious as well.  In fact, Kasumi couldn't have
felt more obvious if someone had taken a rubber stamp and planted the
word 'DATE' on her forehead.  It was so embarassing!

	It was the young airman...the one whose squadron had been the
latest aerial victim of the Black Rose.  He was so young, she had thought
to herself on first seeing him...not until later had she realized he was
the same age as her.  It was his face than made him seem young...so soft,
still so innocent-looking, especially behind his round glasses.  After
that first meeting, she had felt...compelled to make him her special
charge.  She didn't know why, she just felt drawn to him.

	In the weeks that had followed, they had talked, every moment she
could find.  At first she had tried to tell herself that she was simply
trying to soothe him, take his mind off his pain.  That justification had
fallen away almost immediately; he was healing much more quickly than
expected.  Then she had tried telling herself that she was just
fascinated with him; the silly English girl being overwhelmed by the
grandiose image of the American.  So far this had worked, despite her
realization that this American certainly wasn't grandiose...indeed, he
seemed to be almost as flustered around her as she was around him.

	His proposal had come as a complete shock to her.  It had been
just as he was being discharged from the hospital, to return to his unit
for light duties, where his shoulder could continue to heal for the next
few months.  Ah they were walking out the door together, he had turned to
her, and, trying to be casual about the business, as an American should
be, had stammered, "S, so, Nurse Te..Tendo....  Wou, would you like to
ge, get together when we're bu, bu, bu...both off-duty?  To, to talk?"

	Kasumi had been floored.  She barely remembered her own nod of
assent, not remembering at all that she had barely let the poor airman
finish his sentence.  The rest of that day was just a warm, pleasant haze
in her memory, as she had gone about her duties with her usual
efficiency, not noticing the knowing looks and giggles of her junior nurses.

	And today was the day.  Placing the last, freshly-washed bedpan
on its shelf, she looked around in sudden realization.  That..that was
it.  Everything was done.  She could meet the airman now.  With barely a
backwards glance, she rushed into the nurses station, changing her
uniform for her civilian clothes, and rushed out the door.  Behind her, a
flurry of giggles erupted form the nurses who had finally realized what
was going on...each one wishing their head luck.

	The nurse rushed hurriedly down the road, walking as quickly as
she dared.  Her path to their rendevouz point happened to take her past
the base's store, and the clock mounted on the wall outside.  She glanced
at it as she went by, her pace slowing abruptly as she noticed the time: 
15:40.

	Not yet four o'clock, she realized.  And their date wasn't
scheduled until fifteen minutes after that.  The airman didn't even get
away from his job until four, she realized with a flush of embarassment. 
And here she was, rushing around like that silly young girl again, only
to be left waiting....

	Well, her mind told her, not sense in stopping now.  You're
early, its a warm day, waiting will be pleasant.  Maybe that will give
you time to calm your nerves, steady yourself so you're not the flighty
little girl again.  Giving herself a determined nod, Kasumi started
walking again, trying to force herself to walk slowly.

	Only ten minutes later, she rounded the corner of the base
headquarters, and blinked hard in surprise.  There, standing in the shade
of the field's prized oak tree, was the airman.  He was fidgeting
nervously, plucking at his uniform, adjusting his glasses, glancing
nervously around the square.  Kasumi was completely confused.  What was
he doing here at this time?  Didn't he still have to work?

	More hesitantly now, her mind and body buzzing, Kasumi walked
towards the old tree.  The airman was fidgeting nervously, looking the
other direction.  I'll just be quiet, so I won't scare him, Kasumi though
to herself.  Moving completely silently, she walked up behind the airman,
and gently tapped him on the shoulder.

	Toufuu felt the tap on his shoulder and leapt two feet straight
into the air, crying out in surprise.  He wheeled on landing, a stray
beam of sunlight peircing through the leaves of the tree to glint of his
glasses...which promptly fogged up.

	"Nu...Nurse Tendo!" he gasped in surprise.  "Wha..What a surprise!"

	Kasumi blinked again, then giggled slightly.  Lieutenant Toufuu
could be so amusing at times.  She smiled, "Good afternoon, Lieutenant."

	"Go..good afternood," the young American stammered.  "I..wasn't
expecting to see you this early.."

	Kasumi smiled.  "I was able to finish my work early today.  I was
so afraid I was going to be too early, since you said you didn't get off
your duty until four o'clock."

	Toufuu laughed, a high, giggling sound.  "Um, yeah.  I forget
that we had Happy Hour today, so I was able to go an hour early."

	Kasumi blinked hard.  "Surely you haven't been waiting here all
that time," she asked, barely believing it.

	Toufuu put his hand behind his head and laughed nervously. 
"Well, I, uh, I mean, that is, I..."  Giving up, he nodded.

	Amazing, the nurse thought to herself.  That he'd wait all that
time for me.  Putting the thought aside, she smiled up at him.  "Well
then, since we're both early, shall we begin?"

	Swallowing hard, Toufuu nodded.  Get a grip on yourself, he cursed
angrily.  It's just a date!  You're supposed to be in more control than
this.  Nodding his head slightly, he swallowed again, trying to moisten
his dry throat.  "Ye..yeah.  Lets go.  There's this restaurant in the
town I found..."

	Smiling up at him, Kasumi offered her hand.  "Then..?"  With a
gulp, Toufuu stiffly took her hand, and began to lead her away.

	Several hours later, the couple were walking through a meadow, on
their way back to the field.  The meal, Toufuu thought, had been a
disaster.  The food had been miserable, and the conversation...well. 
Toufuu was sure he had managed to convince Nurse Tendo that he was an
utter buffoon.  Probably scared her away from every American alive. 
Still, he had enjoyed it while it lasted.

	Kasumi, for her part, had also been rather disappointed in the
food, and was also convinced she hadn't made a very good impression.  All
she had done through the entire meal had been to nod and smile, making
appropriate remarks at his stories, which, regrettably, had been quite
interesting and amusing.  It was just...she felt herself too shy to do
anything more than nod or smile.  She let out a small sigh.  She
certainly hadn't done anything to encourage the American about English girls.

	Near the end of the meadow, Toufuu suddenly stopped, and looked
at the ground, cheeks flushed.  Kasumi stopped in surprise, and looked at
him.  "What..whats wrong?  Are you ill?  Is your shoulder hurting you?"

	Toufuu shook his head, flushing even deeped.  "No..not my arm. 
L..look, Nurse Tendo...."

	The nurse suddenly shook her head.  "Call me Kasumi."

	Toufuu swallowed hard, and paused a moment before nodding. 
"Allright...Ms. Kasumi.  I..I'm sorry for this evening.  It, it wasn't
much fun was it?"

	Kasumi shook her head.  "No, don't apologize," she said quietly. 
"It was fun."

	"But, the food was..." he made a gesture of disgust.  "And, I
was...I mean, I never let you say anything, just rushed on, boring you.."

	Kasumi shook her head vehemently.  "No.  Your stories were
wonderful!  I just...didn't know what else to do."

	Toufuu looked up at that, looking into Kasumi's eyes.  "Really? 
You, you really thought they were...interesting?"

	Kasumi nodded.  "Yes.  And as for the food..."  Kasumi giggled
suddenly.  "You have no arguments from me on that."

	Although he didn't know why she was laughing, Toufuu suddenly
felt better.  He put his hand behind his head, and began to laugh
nervously himself, gradually becoming less forced and more natural. 
"Yeah, that, that wasn't very good, was it..."

	Kasumi shook her head, an impish grin on her lips, and light
dancing in her eyes.  "In that case, next time, why don't you let me cook
you dinner instead?"

	Toufuu stopped laughing, his eyes wide.  "Wh..what?  Next time? 
You mean...you want a next time...?"  His voice raised, scarcely
believeing it.

	Kasumi nodded, suddenly unsure of herself.  "Yes, very much. 
That is...if you want to."

	Toufuu nodded, slowly..."I...I'd like that very much."

	The couple looked into each other's eyes for a long moment, the
warm summer breeze blowing gently past them.  It was a moment that
stretched into eternity, one of those magic moments when everything is
perfect in the world.  Finally, with a small sigh, Kasumi broke the
spell.  "We...should get back.  We've both got work to do in the morning."

	Nodding silently, Toufuu took her hand, and they walked back to
the base.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
And another part is completed!  Much as I'd like to come up with a
long-winded excuse about why this part was so late, I'll be honest...I
got lazy.  It won't happen again, I promise.  ;>  (Shyeah, right) 
Anyways, a couple of notes, for those who might be interested.  I've got
a new webpage online, with copies of all my works to date.  The page is
at http://elycion.geology.ualberta.ca/~stoner, so if you want old
stories, take a look there.  Also, back issue requests should be sent to
stoner@elycion.geology.ualberta.ca, as the old address of
cs94324@cs.ualberta.ca no longer works.  And...that's about it.  Until
next chapter (soon!), sorejya!

                                   /  /  /
                                  |  |  |                      
              /=============== ___ \  \  \ ___ ===============\   
=============/ "Kimi o sukite /     |  |  |   \ yokatta..."    \=============
James Stone, Student,        |     /  /  /     | wstone@gpu.srv.ualberta.ca
 writer, tifosi, otaku.       \_______________/ [Or just reply here]
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Akane@Anime, Ukyou@Ranma, Karin@Spirit, Geobaldi@Furry/SPR, Stoner@Baka
Mendo@AMUSH, Nabiki@FToon, D-Fens@Banzai, Mason@BGC
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Bai-bai, Megaplayboy.  <BANG!!>" - Karin Aoi, DNA^2 TV #1
=============================================================================


Ranma 1/2 - Fall of the Eagle Part 6
by James Stone
stoner@elycion.geology.ualberta.ca
(c) 1995 Stone Age Productions  All Rights Reserved
-----------------------------------------------------------------
France, 50km south of Cherbourge

	Making her way through the light forest silently, Akane Tendo,
Resistance commander, reviewed the events of the past few days in her
mind.  Their last mission, like all previous, had been a success.  Their
target, a large railway trestle, had been destroyed with no casualties,
and no clues as to their identity left behind for the Germans.  Which
meant that the now-halted German division wouldn't know that this raid
had been assisted by the British Special Forces.

	And the American, Akane's mind chimed in helpfully.  She growled.
Yes, the American too.  It had been his plan that had surprised the
engineering camp, killing all within before they could react, and
allowing them to plant their explosives in peace.  Unfortunately, he had
overlooked the obvious, and forced their escape by swimming the river. 
Despite that huge error, the squad had escaped.

	He's not as smart as he thinks he is, Akane though to herself. 
His tactical abilites are amazing, but his planning leaves something to
be desired.  She tried, futilely, to ignore the fact that she had also
missed that problem with his plan.  She also tried to forget that she had
had to be carried across the river, never having told anyone that she
couldn't swim.

	Akane shook her head in disbelief as she followed a rough hunting
trail.  She had almost drowned, but what had happened to the
American....was he telling the truth?  Did he really have an ancient Chinese
curse?  Or was he _really_ a woman, how had somehow disguised herself so well
that her hair, build, and voice were all completely different?  Akane wasn't
sure if that was possible...but it was the only thing that made logical sense.

	But Akane didn't believe it.  The American was a martial artist,
and so was she.  Instinctively, she knew magic did exist, as did curses. 
And, although she tried to deny it to herself vehemently, she knew he
wasn't lying because she _knew_ him.

	Which was completely impossible, of course.  His company had been
assigned to aid her Resistance cell for a bare week, and they'd been
moving the whole time, stopping only for rest.  So it wasn't possible
that she could know his moods, his likes, the way he _was_ but...somehow
she thought she did.  And if she didn't, she wanted to.

	A twig half-cracked underfoot.  Instantly, the whole trail of
men, Akane at their head, stopped, as one dropping into a crouch. 
Akane berated herself viciously.  The bloody American again!  Even when
he's not here he messes you up!  She scanned the bushes and, after a long
pause, raised her hand in the all-clear.  The group moved forwards again,
Akane forcing herself to dilengently scan the terrain in front of her.

	Next time, she told herself fiercely, you won't get away.  This
whole country is crawling with Nazis, both French and German.  And if
they catch you, they'll either kill you then, or capture you in battle,
and then every one of you will be taken back to the Reich to be executed. 
Either way, you'll be dead.  No more mistakes.  You can't afford any.

	With that thought, Akane pressed onwards, leading her men to the
next objective.  The next mission was an easy one, and then they'd be
fading back into the hills for a few weeks, to recover, and to let the
enemy forget about them for awhile.  Then, they'd go back and resume
their work making the German occupation hell.  Until, one day, their
countrymen in exile would return, and de Gaulle would set them free.  And
when that happened, Akane could go back to her home country.

	The next mission was simple reconnasince.  They were to observe a
German regimental headquarters for a few days, then send a radio report
back to England, giving them an estimation of strength and defenses
around the headquarters.  Easy on paper, this mission was going to be
anything but easy.  The headquarters was new, recently arrived as part of
the 4th Division's garrison efforts.  Rumors ran that the 4th Division had
been tasked solely with destroying Resistance movements.  It had done so
already in Poland, and Denmark.  Now it was in France, ready for the
ultimate test.

	Because of this, they would be on the lookout for just such an
action.  There would be heavy patrols in the woods around the
headquarters, and tight security within.  Penetration would be
impossible.  Akane smiled thinly.  Or so they thought.  She knew more
than one way to get into a heavily fortifed compound, and had done so in
the past.  However, she didn't think that would be necessary.  Her men
would just lie low outside the gates, and watch.  And if they got stomped
by jackboots, well, it had happened before, hadn't it?

	But right now, her men needed rest.  Calling for a halt, Akane
stepped carefully off the trail into a small stand of thick brush, hiding
herself within.  Behind her she heard a soft rustle, of her men secreting
themselves within their own hiding places.  Time for lunch Chez Resistance.

	Digging into a fatigue pocket, Akane dug out a ration pack. 
Horrid to eat when properly prepared, the rations were even worse cold. 
But they couldn't risk a fire, not here, not now.  With a grimace, Akane
tore the top open, and began to shovel the food in, trying not to look at
or taste the strange paste within.

	Some treat, she grumbled.  The British give us these ration packs
so that we don't have to forage off the land as much, and can move
faster.  They say they're more nutritous too, but how can something that
tastes this bad be nutritous?  We should just take the time to do some
hunting, dammit.  Then her brows creased in a frown.  But everytime we do
that, and it's my turn to cook, my squad grumbles about not having
rations.  What can be wrong with them?

	The girl gave a tiny shrug to herself as she finished the ration
pack off.  She folded the empty packet up neatly, and, digging a small
hole, deposited it inside.  Covering the hole back up, she scattered old
dirt over the site, to conceal the recent digging.  Finished, she relaxed
slightly.  Just a few more minutes, she thought to herself.  Give
ourselves a rest, then continue on before we stiffen up.  She closes her
eyes, and listened to the sounds of the wind rustling through the brush.

	A moment later, Akane's eyes opened again.  Something was
bothering her.  Her whole body tingled slightly, and the tiny hairs on
the back of her neck prickled up.  There was something wrong.  Danger. 
Akane concentrated, stretching her senses all around, as unmoving as the
bush she lay in, while she listened to the rustle of leaves....

	Suddenly, she knew.  There was no wind.  What was moving the leaves?

	A scream from the end of her line answered her question.  Without
hesitation, or thought, Akane sprang out of her bush, _away_ from the
trail.  She landed, rolling on the ground, to come face to face with an
apparition from a horror movie.

	Its body was molted green and yellow, dead branches, leaves, and
moss dripping from its limbs in slimy strings.  Its face was the same
horrid shade, topped by a shaggy mane of dead grass.  Its eyes, horribly
blue shone out from her, death shining in them, curiously contrasting the
completely dead look on its thin, hollow face.

	She didn't conciously feel the recoil at her right arm, as the
British submachine gun jerked and spat yellow flames.  Her arm,
strengthed by years of practise at home, and more of fighting the real
thing, automatically corrected, guiding the weapons projectiles into her
target'ss belly and chest.

	Without even a cry, the German commando jerked backwards,
stiletto flying out of his hand convulsively.  Akane didn't stop to
watch him fall.  Instead, she rushed into the brush again, making her way
back along the line as gunfire and screams erupted along the old trail.

	There!  Her arm rised the gun to rest in both hands.  Without
taking the time to properly sight, she put the gun to the left of the
next commando's chest, and fired.  Recoil jerking the gun up and to the
right, a red hole appeared on the German's shoulder.  Crying out in pain,
he turned, attempting to bring a pistol to bear, when another pistol,
this from his original target, cut him down.

	Sliding forwards quickly, Akane reached the man.  "Alright?" she
whispered harshly.  When he answered with a nod, she nodded in reply. 
Pointing across and up the trail, she indicated that the soldier check
that area for more enemies or survivors.  Without any more communication,
he moved off in that direction.  She continued on back down the trail, as
silently as possible in the sudden end of the firefight.

	What did that mean? she asked herself.  There are only six of us
here, but how many of them were there?  How many of mine survived?  How
many of theirs?

	Ten minutes later, Akane had her answer.  All of the commandos,
at least this raid, were dead, but at the cost of two of her own.  One of
them had been stabbed in the ambush; the other killed by a stray round
during the firefight.  A third was wounded, leaving herself and three
others healthy.

	The mission was obviously blown, now the question of their cover
remained.  How did the Germans know they were here?  Despite her
training-induced paranoia, Akane hadn't expected serious German forces
here.  But these were elite soldiers.  What was more frightening was the
unit patch on their fatigues.  The Black Cross Battalion, elite troops trained
to fight the Resistance with their own tactics.  Despite the name Battalion,
the Black Cross was barely more than a reinforced Company, used only in the
most dangerous situations.  Which meant the 4th _knew_ Akane was coming.

	She shook her head.  Half her cell was destroyed, and she was
being tracked.  She needed to escape.  First thing, then, was to get out of
here, then call for help.  Gathering her men, she told them what to do. 
Getting their assent, she led them northwest, back towards the coast they
had left so recently.

Kitty Field

	Ranma felt his belly turn to ice as the signal came in.  A
distress beacon had been activated in the eastern part of France.  Sending
its signal along a narrow path, the signal had been recieved by a large
Resistance headquarters northeast of Paris.  From there, an encrypted
signal had been sent to the British at Kitty Field.

	A distress beacon was the last line of defense for the best
Resistance cells.  Only those that operated with the British Special
Forces had recieved the beacons, and they had been told not to use the
beacons except in the utmost need of extraction.  This signal had been
activated only a few hours before, according to the dispatch, so the
resistance cell was believed to be nearby.  Also, the dispatch continued,
the identity of the cell was also known.  It was the group headed by an
agent named MALLET.

	The tomboy was in trouble.  Ranma didn't stop to think any
further.  She and her people were in trouble, and that meant _he_ had to
go get them out.  Dropping the paper to the floor, Ranma stood, reaching
for his fatigue jacket.  At least his kit was packed.  He'd go tell the
Captain, and they'd be gone just after dusk, to bring the tomboy back to
England.

	Fifteen minutes later, Ranma was back in the message center.  He
ripped the paper off the floor where it had fallen, and shoved it into
the Captain's face.  "Right here, SIR, is my authorization for this mission!"

	Ranma shook with rage.  This was unbelieveable!  An extraction
request was the _only_ thing that could get his squad moving on short
notice, but the Captain had, for some reason, balked, saying he needed
authorization from higher-up.  When Ranma had explained that they didn't
have time to wait for further authorization, the Captain had asked the
American Lieutenant where _his_ authorization came from.  With that,
Ranma had snapped, and virtually dragged the Captain down here. 
"Satisfied now, sir?!"

	The Captain finished reading the note, and looked up, face
impassive.  "Alright, Saotome, so MALLET's in trouble.  But we can't just
go in there and fly her out!"

	"Why not?" cried Ranma.  "We've got the men, we've got the
equipment, and we've got the coordinatates to fly to!  What more do we need?"

	"First off, we don't know where she is, Saotome.  We've just got
an approximate position for her beacon.  Just the time we make it there,
she could be twenty miles away.  And second, we've got to get permission
from the Brigadier on this!"

	Ranma scowled, tossing his pigtail over his shoulder as he shook
his head.  "Listen, she won't be far from the beacon, okay?  If she
activated it, she'll be waiting for us to come and help her.  But she
won't wait forever.  She knows the Germans are gonna know where the
beacon is by morning.  If she set it off, she's trusting us to keep our
word!"

	The young man paused, gathering his breath.  "And secondly, we
don't need authorization from the Brigadier.  We've already got it,
remember?  That's why we've got a Dakota waiting on standby."

	The British man shook his head.  "Alright, Saotome, I'll grant you
that she's probably close to the beacon, so that we can find her.  But
the rules changed yesterday."

	Noting the American's confused look, the Captain smiled grimly. 
"As of yesterday, any actions regarding this Resistance cell, and only
this one, have to be cleared through the Brigadier."

	Ranma's jaw fell open slightly.  "What?  Why?"

	The Captain's eyes darkened.  "You don't need to know that,
Saotome.  Sometimes, we can't respond."  Ranma read the message in the
Captain's eyes, and paled.

	"You can't mean...?"  When the British man nodded, what little
color remained in Ranma's face faded out.  "You're just going to let them
die?"

	The older man didn't answer.  Ranma's fists clentched. 
"You...you bastards!  Damn you, I'm going, and taking everyone I can with
me!"  Without waiting for a reply, Ranma burst out of the room, ripping
the door off its hinges as he slammed it shut behind him.

	The security guard in the office moved after Ranma, but the
Captain restrained him, shaking his head.  "No, Saotome's right.  I just
can't say so."  His eyes seemed to follow the American through the
walls.  "Good luck, lad."

	Ranma forced himself to calm down, and regain his composure as he
rushed across the base to get to the Special Forces barracks.  Damn the
Captain!  Damn the Brigadier!  He was going back to rescue that tomboy if
he had to do it alone!  He wasn't going to leave her, or her men, his
mind appended hastily, alone there.

	Reaching the barracks, he forced himself to look calm, even
upbeat, as he swung the door open.  "Atten-SHUN!" he called out as he
closed the door behind him.  Instantly, out of every bunk, his men sprung
to their feet.  Out the back door came the Warrant Officer.

	"Yes sir, what's the problem?" the Warrant asked, his eyes
bright and questioning.

	Ranma forced an easy grin to his face.  "Well, Warrant, I've got
something that you and your men can help me out with."  He relaxed a bit, to
show that he wasn't worried.  "It seems some of our friends in France are in
trouble, and its up to us to get them out."

	The warrant looked up sharply.  "MALLET?"  When the American
nodded assent, the Warrants eyes narrowed a bit.  "I heard that the
Brigadier herself was going to handle problems with that group."

	Ranma tensed up slightly.  "Unfortunately, we haven't been able
to, uhm, talk to the Brigadier yet.  And since an extraction request is a
Top Urgency request..."  The Lieutenant let the statement trail off.

	The Warrant Officer studied Ranma for a long moment.  A smile
slowly broke out on his face.  "Right you are, sir.  What time do we depart?"

	Ranma smiled his thanks at the older man.  "2000 hours sharp,
report to the..." he shuddered briefly.  "To the Kitty Karrier."  He
shook himself.  "Why did they have to call it that..."

	The Warrant almost grinned, but stopped himself.  The American's
fear of cats was well known in the unit.  Instead, he turned to his men. 
"Right!  You heard the sir!  Now get your asses in gear!!  MOVE IT!!!"

	"SIR!!"  The men saluted, then wheeled, beginning their
preparations.  Ranma left the building, confident that at least he'd have
the men for his mission...

	Next, to get himself ready.  His kit was packed, and checked,
fortunately, but that didn't mean he was ready to go in yet.  First stop
was the Special Ops supply section, to get his parachute for the mission.
Because of their weight, his team buried their chutes in Germany after
each landing, rather than carry around the extra baggage.  Ranma got the
chest-pack and chute, and spent the next thirty minutes packing the chute
himself.  As he finished that task off, the Warrant brought the rest of
the squad in for their chute.  The British soldier motioned Ranma off to
one side to talk to him.

	"The Captain asked me to give you a messsge, sir."  Noticing the
angry look that passed over the American's face, the Warrant's face
softened slightly.  "He's giving you command of the mission, sir, and
wishes you good luck."

	Ranma's expression changed from anger to surprise.  The Warrant
actually smiled slightly.  "Surprised, Mr.Saotome?  Don't be.  This isn't
the first time the Brigadier and the Captain haven't seen eye to eye.  The
Captain also wanted to apologize for leaving you alone like this, and
that he'll be trying to keep the Brigadier off your back when you
return."  The last wasn't techinically true.  The Captain hadn't actually
said such to the Warrant.  Both of them were lifetime soldiers, however,
and understood each other.

	The Lieutenant nodded.  "Thanks, Warrant.  What would the Captain
and I do without you?"  He smiled, hefting the parachute to his back.

	"Same thing most young Lieutenants do, sir.  Get themselves shot
doing the damnedest things."  He clouted the younger man on the
shoulder.  "Now don't worry 'bout the men yet sir.  We'll be at the plane."

	Ranma nodded, and left the building quickly.  He had a few more
hours now, to shower, clean his Sterling, and try to get the shakes out
of the way before the mission.  A vain hope, but...

	"Ranma!!"  His head jerked up.  Oh no, it couldn't be...not _now_
of all times.  He forced himself to pretend he didn't hear the high,
accented cry, instead lowered his head a bit and started walking a bit
more quickly to his quarters.

	The tactic failed as he was knocked to the ground by a small
dispatch motorcycle.  Looking up, he growled at its rider.  "Shampoo!  I
can't talk to you right now, I'm bus-ERK!!"

	Shampoo dove off the bike to wrap herself around Ranma's neck in
a fierce hug.  "You take Shampoo to mess hall tonight?"

	The young man gagged.  After the German raid, Ranma had managed
to disentangle himself from Shampoo's embrace and explain to her that he
wasn't interested.  Shampoo had nodded, listening attentively to every
word, and had answered as only she could:  by immediately crushing him in
another hug.  At that point, Ranma had given up, and led the enamoured
girl to the mess hall, hoping that, with any luck, he could lose her there.

	He'd only been partially successful.  Shampoo had seemed to
forget about him soon enough with her first experience at a British mess
hall.  Ranma ate there only because there wasn't anywhere else to eat in
the mornings, or at any other time of the day for that matter, but
certainly not by choice.  Shampoo, on the other hand, had positively
ambushed the serving line, going back repeatedly for seconds, thirds, and
fourths.  Her countryman Mousse had done almost as well for himself. 
Since then, neither's enthusiasm for the food had slowed, and in fact,
Shampoo had taken on working there, reputedly to learn new recipies to
serve her unit in the Soviet Union.

	None of that was helping Ranma at the present however.  While
able to shake her at the mess hall that morning, he had been unable to
since, with the purple-haired girl appearing at the most imopportune
moments.  Once again, his girl problems were the joke of the unit, and
this was sure to be noticed.  Plus, he had to tell her no, in no
uncertain terms, at least this time.

	Ranma struggled to a sitting position, trying, vainly, to
extricate himself.  Giving up for the moment, he looked the Russian in
the eyes.  "Shampoo, I can't tonight.  I've got a job to do tonight."

	Shampoo stared at him uncomprehendingly.  "Job?  What kind of job
so important?"

	He sighed.  "I can't tell you _what_ it is, it's secret.  But its
important.  Shampoo, I've really got to be going."

	The girl began to pout.  "Ranma no so busy the other...." 
Realization dawned in her eyes.  "Oh, Shampoo know!  You going away,
Ranma?"  When the American slowly nodded, she nodded briskly.  "Okay! 
Shampoo no ask more."

	Ranma sighed in relief.  He was fre-UMMPH??!

	Shampoo had leaned forwards as he was contemplating his release. 
Unnoticed, she hesitated, then quickly closed her eyes and pressed her
lips against his.  An endless moment later, she broke the kiss, and
looked up at him, eyes shining brightly.  "Come back to Shampoo soon."

	Ranma's mouth gibbered something while his head automatically
nodded assent, utterly powerless to do anything more intelligent. 
Shampoo nodded happily, and bounced out of his lap.  "I go now.  I be
here when you come back!!"  She rushed off, leaving Ranma and the
motorbike lying in the dust.

	Ranma sat there for a few moments, then shook his head
violently.  Not good enough.  Reaching up with both hands, he smacked
himself across the face repeatedly, until he felt that his mind was
working again.  Okay, he told himself.  That was nice, but it's over
now.  She's a nice girl, but you can think about her after the mission. 
Okay?  Okay.  Giving himself that mental pep talk, he got to his feet
again.  He bent over to collect his parachute, but froze when a tall,
thin shadow fell over him.

	Standing up slowly, Ranma smiled at Mousse.  "Oh, hi, Mousse.  If
you're looking for Shampoo, she went that way."  When the Russian didn't
respond, Ranma shook his hand in front of his eyes.  "Um, hello? 
Mousse?  Corporal?"

	At that, Mousse's head lifted, sunlight flashing off of his
glasses.  "Saotome...I tried to ignore it, but...."  He suddenly reared
back and lunged, sunlight flashing off the weapon that came out of the
sleeves of his fatigues.

	Instinctively, Ranma ducked to one side, and reached up to grab
the metal claw as it flashed by his head.  "Wha...what are you talking
about?"  This wasn't his day for surprises it seemed.  First Akane being
in trouble, then Shampoo, and now Mousse, who seemed like a pretty nice
guy, going beserk on him.  What followed though, really surprised him.

	"Stay away from my Shampoo, you womanizer!!"  With that, Mousse
launched himself fully at the American.  For his part, Ranma decided that
a strategic retreat was called for, and began to run, the crazed Russian
hard on his heels.  "Saotome you animal!!!!......"

	Some hours later, a group of eight men stood clustered around
a small transport aircraft.  The senior man, the British Warrant, was
restless, although his rock-solid expression and stand expressed none of
this.  Where was the American?  He had told the men to meet him at their
aircraft at 2000 hours, just before sunset.  But it was almost time for
him to arrive, and there was no sign of him yet.  Had the Brigadier
forced him to abort the mission?  Or had he been involved in some sort of
accident?  Behind him, a couple of his men smiled to each other in the
dark.  They had seen that cute Russian girls departure, and thought they
knew what was holding the Lieutenant up.

	All such thoughts were put aside as a shape moved out of the
gathering shadows.  Straightening up, the Warrant walked over to the
shape and saluted.  The shape returned the salute, then walked out into
the light to face his men.

	"Alright men," Ranma began.  "We don't have time for a proper
briefing, so I'll make this one real quick.  The Resistance team we were
just with is in trouble.  They've activated their distress beacon, and we
believe we're close to that.  We're going in to get them out.  Any
questions?"  As a man, his squad shook their heads.  "Right then, let's
move out."  Limping slightly, the bruised American climbed up into the plane.
His men stared after him bemusedly for a few moments, then shrugged, and
climbed into the transport behind him.

France, south of Cherbourge

	Carefully, moving as slowly as possible, Akane shifted her
position to relieve a cramp in her leg.  She'd been on watch for four
hours now, and had two more to go before she could retreat back to their
camp.  Not that she'd be getting any sleep there; with the Germans
actively hunting them down now, sleep was a luxury she couldn't afford.

	Where were the British?  She hadn't expected immediate reaction
from the beacon, but, inside, had believed that salvation would come with
the sunset.  But instead, sunset was two hours past, and there was no
sign of impending rescue.  Had the British heard the beacon at all?

	The girl shook her head.  That was no way to be thinking.  She
would wait until just before dawn.  When that time came, she'd be forced
to move on, and find a way out of the country on her own.  Until then,
she and her men would have to wait.

	A low tone caught her ear.  Was that her injured man?  No, the
sound was too low.  Besides, the young private had borne his gunshot in
silence, despite the agony their forced march must have put him in.  She
listened hard, stretching the range of her senses.  It was coming
from...the east.

	Akane's heart sank.  From the east meant Germany, and if it was
that far out, meant only one of two things.  Either an aircraft, or a
large motorized formation.  Either way, she could afford to write it
off.  The Germans wouldn't use such noisy means to track down Resistance
groups.  When the Germans came looking for them, they'd move as silently
as herself, to give her men no warning.

	The tone persisted, gradually growing into a low buzz.  An
aircraft, definitely.  Heading towards....no!  That wasn't possible.  It
sounded like it was heading towards the beacon, five miles to her south.

	The buzz grew louder and louder, until there was no doubt.  It
was defintely heading towards the beacon.  Could the Germans have
determined its location so quickly?  A stroke of horrific luck.  Moving
more quickly than usual, under the covering drone of the aircraft, Akane
retreated to her camp to gather her men for flight.  Five minutes later,
they were all ready to run north, when Akane paused.

	There was something wrong.  There was no sense of danger coming
from the aircraft.  Akane motioned her men to lie still, trusting her
senses.  The droning was loud now, she should have been able to see the
aircraft by now.  So where was it.

	"Look!" gasped one of her privates.  Rather than reprimand the
man for breaking noise disclipline, Akane followed his outstretched
hand.  Barely visible, flying low and slow, was a black shape, barely
seen against the deep blue night sky.  An aircraft, unlit.  Which meant....

	"The British!" she hissed exuberantly. "They're here!  Quickly,
move towards the plane!"

	The cell hurriedly moved to the south, rushing under the cover of
the British transport's engines.  Akane glanced up at the aircraft just in
time to see a small black shape detach itself from the larger figure.  It
was followed by another, and another, as the parachutists jumped into the
forest.  Pointing, she led her men in the direction of the British
paratroops.

	As she approached the landing zone, she slowed.  She had no way
of identifying herself to the group!  How was she supposed to make them
realize that she wasn't a German patrol?  Motioning her men to take
cover, she halted, watching the British enclave warily.  No motion came
from within.  Had she missed the landing area, or were they in there,
waiting for her to advance into their ambush?

	Something mpved in the darkness up ahead.  Instinctively, Akane
raised her weapon to her shoulder.  The shadow in front of her hesitated,
then continued to stand up.  Something about the shape was familiar....

	"Yo, tomboy, that you?"  Ranma's whisper, muted and from a
distance, was as cocky as ever.  "Cause we're here to take you home."

	Akane's gun dropped away from her shoulder as the strength seemed
to fade from her body.  "Ranma...you came for me," she whispered.

	Ranma's shadow moved forwards, and crouched to offer her a hand
up, as both her men and the British came out of their concealment. 
"That's right, Akane.  We're back for you.  Now let's get out of here,
okay?"  He winked confidently as he pulled her to her feet.

	With a hmpf, Akane pulled her hand free.  "Bloody American.  Now
that you're here, everything will be fine, won't it?"  Noting the shocked
look that crossed his face, she grinned to herself inwardly.  "Well I've
got news for you, Monsieur American..."

	Ranma cut her off.  "Hey, listen tomboy!  Don't you go slammin'
me again!  I know what I'm doing, and I'm gonna get you outta here." 
Turning away, he grumbled.  "Although I should leave you here, a sexless
tomboy like you would probably frighten the Nazi's back to Berlin..."

	"Why you!!"  Akane's outraged cry barely made it to the last of
the soliders in the group.  The Resistance men and the Special Forces
troops smiled at each other.  Now that their leaders were together again,
they were much more themselves.  Turning, their squabbling leaders led
the to the north, towards the coast and freedom.

	For Akane, Ranma, and their other eleven soldiers, the next five
days were a kind of living hell.  Only once did the group get any sleep,
managing to distract their pursuers long enough to rest for six hours. 
But all too soon, a low sweep by German fighters told them the Germans
had learned of their trick, and they were forced to rush on again. 
Somehow, they managed to avoid running into stray German patrols, or
being caught by one of the commando teams moving through the contry
behind them.  But at the end of the five days, only one more danger
remained:  reaching their contact with the small craft to get them off
the coast.

	Ranma shook his head fiercely.  "No, I won't let you go!"

	Akane looked at him, her eyes flashing angrily.  "And what do you
mean by that, Monsieur American?  You're not the leader of my cell."

	"That's irrelevant," the Lieutenant growled.  "Even if I wasn't
the senior officer here I wouldn't let you go.  It's too dangerous!"

	"And why do you say that?" the girl demanded.

	Ranma shifted slightly.  "The Germans must know who you are by
now!  Your contact might be compromised already, and if he isn't, you
could be spotted by the Gestapo!  Then you'd be dead, and we all would
still be here!"

	Akane nodded.  "All true, but who else would you send?  Noone
else knows who the contact is."

	Ranma shook his head.  "That's not true.  I saw his face, and my
Warrant knows who he is to.  One of us can go get him!"

	"That's ridiculous!" she snapped.  "You're strangers in this
town.  You'd be even more likely to be picked up by the Gestapo."

	The American's face set into a hard mask.  "Well, if one of us,"
indicating himself, "gets captured, you know the country better.  You
could get them out some other route."

	Akane peered at Ranma closely.  "Hmm...you're not worried about
that at all!  You're really worried about me!"

	The Lieutenant started.  "What, me worried?  About you?  Never! 
I mean, I have to worry about you.  All of you," he added as an
afterthought.  "It's my job, right?"

	Shaking her head, Akane sighed.  "You foolish Americans with your
honor.  Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I can't take care of
myself.  I'm going, and that's final!"

	Abandoning pretense, Ranma shook his head.  "You're _not_ going,
and THAT's final."  He looked up as the figure of the Warrant walked out
of the trees towards them.  "Oh, Warrant, what can I do for you?"

	The Warrant motioned for Ranma to stand.  "If you don't mind sir,
a word with you?"  Ranma nodded assent and followed the older man a short
distance into the trees.

	"What is it, Warrant?" the younger man wondered.

	"Sir, it's not my place, but I really think you should let her go
make the contact."

	Ranma's face grew hard again.  "And just why is that Warrant? 
You know as well as I do I can do just as well as he can."  He was
surprised when the Warrant shook his head.

	"No sir, you can't."  He smiled slightly at the look of wounded
pride on the American's face.  "Listen sir, you're the best Special Ops
man the Americans have ever produced.  But you don't know bugger all
about this country."

	The Warrant gestured.  "Miss Tendo there knows the language, the
people, and the customs.  She'll be able to disguise herself, get into
the town, and if at all possible, make our contact.  Just let her go, okay?"

	Ranma sighed, and nodded reluctant assent.  "Alright Warrant.  As
always you make the most sense of the lot."

	The older man patted his superior on the shoulder.  "Part of the
job description sir.  Now go make up with her and let's get the hell out
of here."  With his small smile on his face, he watched the American
return to the Resistance woman with his head down.

	Forcing himself to look up, Ranma crouched down beside Akane
again.  "Alright.  You're going in."

	Akane smirked.  "Your Warrant Officer showed you the error of
your ways, did he?"

	Ranma shook his head.  "Only on a professional level."  Not
seeming to notice Akane's jump of surprise, Ranma looked up again.  "I
still think its too dangerous for you personally."

	Akane started to retort, but the comment died as she saw the look
on his face.  He _is_ scared for me, she thought to herself,
wonderingly.  I...I can't prove that right, can I?

	Akane swallowed the lump in her throat, and smiled
encouragingly.  "Hey, don't look so frightened, wimp.  I know what I'm
doing.  We'll be home before dawn."

	The young Lieutenant forced a smile to his face.  "Yeah...home by
dawn then.  In that case you better get moving."  He watched the girl get
to her feet.  "And tomboy?"

	Akane turned to look at him.  "Don't get hurt, right?"  She
nodded, then moved off towards the town without another word, feeling the
weight of his gaze on her back the whole way down.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Um....eep.  I guess this part is just a _liiiiitle_ late....  I was
actually surprised to get soem email asking where issue #6 of Fall of the
Eagle was...and really kicked myself for having to tell them that #6
wasn't done yet.
	Excuses?  None, I guess, aside from schoolwork and general
laziness on my part.  I only write well in the proper mood, which cuts
down on the amount of time to write I really have, and with several other
writing projects, this one got pushed back a bit.  Ranma - Shock was
written in this period, along with a big chunk of my other large fanfic,
an as-yet unreleased Ukyou prequel.
	As usual, comments, criticisms, questions, and such can be
directed to stoner@elycion.geology.ualberta.ca.  All flames will be read,
laughed at, and disposed of, never to be given a second thought.  Back
issues can be gotten at the Crypts, my fanfic web-page.  The URL is
http://elycion.geology.ualberta.ca/~stoner/ficpage/ficpage.html  And
until next time, Matta ne!


--
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
James Stone - stoner@elycion.geology.ualberta.ca / stoneja@ren.gmcc.ab.ca
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
                                                         /  /  /
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|27|__   /      |  ____ ___          +-------+        ___ \  \  \ ___
| /   \_/_______|--    /   \-__      ||\|||/||      /     |  |  |    \ 
\_| O |_________|______| O ||__\     +-------+     |     /  /  /      |
  \___/                \___/                        \________________/
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
tifosi, NINie, otaku, amateur author, wizzie, and a bunch of other titles.
Akane@Anime, Ukyou@Ranma, Stoner@Baka, Karin@Spirit, Nabiki@Furtoonia,
Geobaldi@Furry, Mendo@AMUSH, Kylania@Delusions, Mousse@Avalon,
Nanami@Fiction, Noa@DahlingMUCK
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
GO d- s++:--- a--- C+++ ULSA+ P L++ E---- W+(++) N+ K w--- O- M-- V-- PS+
PE Y-- PGP-- t--- !5 !X R>+ !tv b+++ DI+(++) D++(-) G>++ e>+++ h- f+
r* !y**

Ranma - Fall of the Eagle Part 7
by James Stone
stoner@elycion.geology.ualberta.ca
(c) 1996 Stone Age Productions  All Rights Reserved
----------------------------------------------------------------
Kitty Field

	"Allright, tomboy, now that you're checked in, lets get you to your
quarters."

	Akane forced herself not to scowl.  Tomboy! she thought to herself. 
That arrogant....American!  Her mind couldn't seem to come up with an epithet
more suitable at the moment.  Glowering slightly, the girl followed Ranma out
of the commisionaires office, and out to the hot, dusty road in front of the
building.

	Kitty Field, as usual, was bustling with activity.  Everywhere she
looked were uniformed men and women marching quickly between the numerous
neat white buildings.  The occasional cargo truck rumbled through the dirt
roads, throwing up thick clouds of dust, while smaller, more nimble
motorcycles rushed around the perimeter of the base, keeping everyone on the
sprawling airfield in touch.

	The transition from war to a relative peace, from danger behind every
tree to safety, had come hard to Akane and the surviving members of her
platoon.  Her injured man had handled it the best:  by being taken to the
hospital immediately on arrival, he had been spared the culture shock the
rest of her men had suffered.

	Akane scanned the scene nervously.  On one hand, everything seemed
exactly as it should be, for an airfield in the midst of war.  Activity was
high, the men and women dressed in their fatigue uniforms, moving to quickly
and efficiently complete whatever tasks they had.  Overhead, constant fighter
patrols roared over the base, and in the distance, Akane could hear the
sounds of more fighters and bombers landing on the fields twin runways.  But
everything seemed just a bit too...clean.  As Ranma led her down the road,
Akane couldn't help but compare their appearance with the people around them. 
Their combat fatigues were rumpled, covered with dirt, leaves, and mud.  The
uniforms that surrounded them were all neat and clean, turned out exactly as
the book prescribed.  The looks the pair got as they wandered the base told
Akane that she wasn't the only one who noticed, although the American seemed
oblivious to it.

	He's just too wrapped up in himself to notice it, Akane thought to
herself.  But deep down, she knew that probably wasn't true.  The American
ignored the looks because he was used to it.  But she was scared.

	Ranma piped up suddenly, breaking her thoughts.  "Your quarters are
almost on the other side of the base, I'm afraid, with the other women. 
You've got a room to yourself, the last one on the floor."  His pace slowed
slightly as he talked.  "There's a common shower area all the quarters, so
you'll probably want to wash up and change.  You'll feel a bit more
comfortable, right?"

	Akane felt the hot blush in her cheeks.  How did he read her mind
like that?  Because, that insistent part of her mind spoke up, he's had to go
through the same thing.  You can't blame him for that, can you?

	So she snapped at him.  "Change?  What will I change into, Monsieur
American?  I'm afraid we didn't have the space to carry many extra clothes."

	Watching the American wince, Akane's anger drained away, replaced by
shame.  Why did you have to go and snap at him like that? she mentally
yelled at herself.  He's just trying to help you out, and make you feel
better!

	"Uh, yeah, that's right," the American mumbled.  "Well, let me worry
about that for now.  We'll get you down to the base stores after we've had a
chance to get washed up a bit."  Akane opened her mouth, about to insist that
they go to the stores _now_, thank you, when he stopped.  "Here we are. 
Building 1-F."  He walked in the front door of the building.  Hesitating a
moment, Akane followed him inside.

	Inside was nothing but a long hallway, with white walls, and a
polished and waxed white floor.  The American was just inside the door,
talking to a young woman, British by her accent.  "Ah, here she is.  Akane,
this is Corporal Unryuu, a nurse here.  She'll take you to your quarters,
'K?"  He looked somewhat uncomfortable.  "I, uh, really can't go past this
point, this being a girl's dorm and everything."  He backed towards the door
hastily.  "Well, I gotta go get cleaned up myself.  I'll be back in an hour
to take you to the stores, tomboy!"  With that, the American beat a hasty
retreat out of the building.

	As the door slammed shut behind him, Akane felt a wave of fear and
loneliness sweep over her.  Ranma was gone.  Now what was she supposed to
do?  She was alone on this base, she didn't know what to do.  Her head
swimming, Akane felt her knees start to buckle under her.  Oh no! she thought,
horrified.  I'm going to faint!

	A light touch on her shoulder snapped her back to reality.  The
British nurse was there, looking up at her concernedly.  "Miss Akane, ma'am?"
she asked timidly.  "Are you allright?  You look a bit pale...."

	Akane forced herself to stand up straight, willing the blood back to
her face.  "O..oh, yes, fine.  Just, very tired."

	The other girl nodded.  "Of course, Miss Akane.  I'll get you to your
quarters so you can clean up and rest before the Lieutenant comes back for
you."

	"Just call me Akane..."  Akane blushed a bit.  "I'm sorry, I forgot
your name?"

	The other girl oh-ed! in surprise.  "Oh, certainly Mi...I mean, Akane. 
Corporal Unryuu.  Akari Unryuu."

	The Resistance leader smiled at the smaller girl.  "Can I call you
Akari then?  I'm not used to calling people by rank, we never used them in my
cell."

	Akari nodded.  "Certainly, Akane.  But we mustn't stand here talking. 
You've got to rest."  With that, the girl turned, and led Akane down the
hallway.  A short distance down was the door to her room.

	"Here we are, Room 18.  I'll just wait here, while you drop off your
bag, and then I'll show you to the shower area, allright?"

	Akane smiled gratefully.  "Perfect.  I'll be right out."  Opening the
door to the small room, Akane realized that telling the nurse she was tired
hadn't been a lie after all.  She was exhausted.  Gratefully, she walked over
to the small cot, and let her rucksack, constant companion for the past year,
drop onto it.  Straightening up again, she rubbed her shoulders and neck,
trying to work out the stiffness carrying a third of her own weight imposed.

	A sudden, blaring wail cut through her momentary reviere.  Danger! 
What was happening?  She turned quickly, reaching instinctively for the
weapon she was no longer carrying.  The sight of Akari in the door startled
her out of her reaction to the wail.

	"Oh no!" the other girl wailed.  "The mission is back!"  Seeing the
confused look in the Resistance leaders eyes, she explained hastily.  "The
latest bombing mision into Germany is back, and they have casualties.  I have
to go!"  She pointed down the hallway.  "The showers are down this hallway,
to the very end, and then go to your right.  You can't miss them!"  A second
blare from the horn cut her short.  "I've got to run!"  The girl turned, and
sped off down the hallway.  Other women streamed down the hallway after her,
and withing minutes, the building was completely silent again.

	Akane swallowed nervously.  Okay, she thought to herself.  You're
alone, but you're safe.  There aren't any Nazis on this base, after all, so
you've got nothing to worry about.  Not a thing.  So just go, take a shower,
put on your least dirty uniform, and wait for the American to come back.

	Opening her rucksack, she extracted her other set of combat fatigues. 
Unrolling them, she compared them to the set she was currently wearing.  Not
much difference, except what she was wearing were less wrinkled, not having
been stored in a bag for over a week.  Tossing the rumpled clothes on the
bed, she decided to make do with what she had, and made her way to the
shower, grimy towel in hand.

	Fortunately, at the shower, there were plenty of clean, thick, _dry_
towels.  Gladly, Akane dropped the square of cloth she had used for months in
France, kicking it into a corner.  Boots and uniform quickly followed, and in
under a minute, steam billowed in the room, the girl happily humming to
herself as she scrubbed away the grime.

	At the other end of the base, Ranma was just stepping out of his
shower.  Fortunately, the hot water was still working today, so he was
able to stay male.  Drying himself off, he thought about all the ways that
stupid curse had of getting him.  Having to avoid swimming was one thing...
walking out of the showers as a woman was another.

	The siren caught him by surprise.  It must have been a short mission
today, just into Belgium, or France  And that meant that Akane would be left
alone in the nurse's barracks.  Better hurry up, he told himself...don't want
to leave her alone for too long, not when she's just arrived on base.  Hasn't
fit in yet.  Yeah.  She probably doesn't want to be left alone either.  So
I'll get there early.  Dressing quickly while rationalizing to himself, the
Lieutenant jammed his feet into a spare pair of combat boots, and began to
head out the door.

	Wait! his mind commanded.  You've still got to get her something to
wear!  Scanning the room, he frowned.  He didn't have anything that a _girl_
could wear.  Searching quickly, he discovered that the only clean thing he
had left, in fact, was another set of fatigues.  Well, he thought to himself,
I wear them myself when I go female, they just need adjusting.  And it's not
like a tomboy like that isn't used to it.  Grabbing the clothes in hand, he
rushed out the door, and jogged off up the street.

	When he reached the nurse's quarters, opened the door, and stepped
just inside.  "Hey!!" he called out.  "I've got some clothes to drop off for
the new lady, Akane!"  He waited.  After several moment, with no response, he
tried again.  "Hey!!  Is anybody here?!"

	Nothing but silence, and a distant hiss answered him.  Where could
they all be? he thought to himself.  Oh! Stupid, they're all at the hospital
now!  You'll have to do it yourself.

	But, but, his mind stammered.  I can't do that!  I'm a _guy_!  But
how else are you going to get these clothes to her? the rest of him asked,
implacably.  Besides, you don't _have_ to be a guy...

	"Oh shut up," he mumbled to himself, not even aware he was doing it. 
But still, he _did_ have to get these clothes to her, and well, if _she_ was
here....  The young man stepped out of the building quickly, and before the
door had finished swinging shut, a short redheaded figure walked back in,
quickly adjusting her uniform.

	She'd better appreciate what I do for her, Ranma grumbled to herself. 
Stalking down the hall, she checked the door numbers.  What room was she in
again?  Coming to an open door, she stopped.  Oh yes, Room 18.

	"Hey, tomboy?  I've got those clothes for you, that I...oh, jeez." 
Empty.  Where could she be now?  And what was that hiss?  It sounded like
someone left the water running.

	Running water?  "Oh!  The showers, of course!"  Pulling her head out
of Akane's room, Ranma ran down the hall, turning the corner, and stepping
into the atrium of the shower.  The steam was fairly thick here, still
billowing from the shower itself, even though the hiss of water had stopped. 
"Hey, tomboy!  I've got those clothes you uh....ulp.  I...ah..."  Her
pigtail sticking straight out on end, Ranma slowly backed up, her face as
red as her hair, from the figure emerging from the steam.

	"You.....you......you......."  Akane couldn't seem to finish the
statement.  Her face was flaming red, although from anger or embarassment it
was difficult to tell.  One hand was crossed over her chest, in a mostly
futile attempt to cover herself, while her other hand was raised in the air,
palm open, fingers spread, twisting backwards for that extra bit of power. 
Ranma stared at this hand, not interested in the least in anything else at
the moment, just waiting, waiting....

	"PERVERT!!!!!"

	Akane stalked out of the shower, her uniform, the American's donated
uniform, and two towels clutched around and in front of her body, her face
still burning with anger.  The _nerve_ of that American!!  Thinking he could
peep on her in the shower, using the pretense of giving her a uniform!  And
turning himself female to get into the barracks unmolested, OOOOOH!  If she
wasn't so embarassed she would have given him the beating of his life!! 
Reaching her room, she slammed the door hard enough to knock splinters out of
the frame.

	Back in the shower, Ranma pulled her face out of the wall, wincing at
the sounds of porcelain shards tinkling on the floor.  Raising her hand to
her cheek tentatively, she winced.  "Uncute tomboy," she muttered to
herself....  Plopping down onto the floor, she sulked for a few minutes. 
"Geez," she muttered to herself...getting all worked up over that...I mean
it's not like I _wanted_ to walk in on her or anything..."  Unbidden, a
picture of the girl, her arm upraised to sprike appeared before her. 
"ARGH!"  Ranma jumped up to her feet before the image could sink in.  "I've
got to get out of here," she muttered to herself.  Hurriedly, she steped back
into the hallway to wait for the other girl.

	She waited, and waited...and waited.  What was she _doing_ in there? 
It couldn't possibly take her that long to get dressed could it?  Ranma
checked her watch irritably.  "Hey, tomboy, you die in there or something?!"

	Before the echo had died away, the door to the room jerked open. 
"Don't you have _any_ patience?" Akane growled.  "You don't have to yell, I
was coming already."

	Ranma scowled.  "Sheesh.  What is it with you anyways?  It shouldn't
even take you that long to get ready.

	Akane got defensive.  "Hey, I was trying too make myself look
presentable, ok?  Forgive me if it takes a little longer, I haven't been on a
base as much as you have."  Her jibe missed, Ranma just shook her head.

	"C'mon already, stores won't be open all day."  Without pause, Ranma
reached out and took the other girl's arm by the wrist, pulling her along
after her as she hurriedly left the building.

	"H-hey!" Akane protested.  "I'm coming already!  You don't have to
pull my arm off!"  Ranma ignored her, and merely continued to rush along the
dirt roads of the base.  Akane fumed silently to herself...there wasn't a
damn thing she could do about it, not when she didn't have the first clue
where the American was taking her.  She moved so quickly, turning apparently
at random, that Akane knew she'd have to get her help just to get home again. 
But next time, she thought grimly to herself, I'll make him go slower.

	Finally, the pair rounded the a corner, and Ranma stopped.  In front
of them was a large, white building, three stories tall.  The front and side
of the building Akane had seen were gleamingly clean, but as Ranma led her
in, Akane spotted blackened timbers protruding from the roof of the building.

	Ranma nodded to her query about the timbers.  "Yeah," he nodded.  "A
bomb landed right behind stores in the attack last week.  Noone was hurt by
that bomb, but about half the building was blown down, and a bunch of stuff
was destroyed."  She offered a brief smile, surprising Akane.  "Shouldn't be
too hard to get you some clean stuff though."

	"WHAT?!" Ranma exclaimed, leaning over the quartermaster's
counter.  "What do you mean you haven't got any spare uniforms?!"

	The quartermaster backed away from desk nervously.  Despite the
Lieutenant's diminutive stature, the look in her eyes, and the way her pigtail
twiched was distinctly unnerving.  Nervously, he wiped a film of sweat off of
his forehead, and pushed the aviator goggles perched there up a bit.  "Ju-
just what I said!  Our fatigues were totally wiped out by the Black Rose. 
Ma'am!" he added hastily.

	To his surprise, the Lieutenant only got angrier.  "Don't call me
ma'am!!  I'm a sir!"  Turning white, the quartermaster nodded.  "Now," Ranma
continued, calming slightly, "surely you must have _one_ set of fatigues back
there.  This woman needs a new one, hers simply aren't acceptable."  Akane
opened her mouth to comment on this, but a flap of Ranma's hand quieted her.

	The quartermaster hesitated.  "We...well..."

	Ranma leaned forwards again staring him in the eyes.  "You _do_ have
one."

	He nodded.  "Well, yes, ma...sir!" he corrected hastily, seeing the
flash in the womans eyes.  "But..."

	"Is it a set of combat fatigues?" Ranma asked.

	"Well, yes..." the quartermaster nodded.

	"British or American?"

	"British.  But I really..."

	The officer waved him silent.  "Nevermind the buts.  We'll take
them."

	The quartermaster sighed, and nodded.  Disappearing into the
backroom, he returned a moment later with a bundle of green cloth.  "One
uniform battle dress, double-extra large," he stated tonelessly, dropping the
volumnious pile onto the counter in front of the women.

	Ranma winced, and sighed.  "Nevermind, it'll have to do.  I'll sign
for them myself."  Signing the card the quartermaster handed out to her,
Ranma gathered up the clothes.  "Let's go, Akane."

	Wearily, the two stepped out the door.  Pausing at the top of the
steps, Ranma grumbled.  "That idiot...couldn't manage his own footlocker, let
alone the stores for this whole base."

	"Then why did they make him quartermaster?" Akane asked.

	"He's a former bomber gunner," Ranma explained.  "After his plane,
the 'Caravan Kidd' I think it was called, was gunned down, he was the only
survivor.  He went a bit crazy from it, so they stuck him into the stores." 
She shrugged.  "Oh well, with so many things destroyed, at least he won't be
losing as many of them.  C'mon, let's go!"

	Ranma began to jog away, but Akane caught up with her, grabbing her
by the hand and jerking her to a stop.  "Hey, stop it!"  She glared as the
American looked at her, confused.  "At least take me back home slowly so I
can get there myself next time."

	"Oh, sorry," Ranma blushed slightly.  "I keep forgetting you've never
been here before."

	Akane shook her head.  "I left from a base near Pony Canyon."

	Ranma looked at her sharply.  "Whaddya mean, left?"

	On no! Akane thought to herself.  Trying to cover her mistake, she
turned red and fumbled around slightly.  "Oh, uh, nothing.  It's a long
story."  She looked at Ranma, praying silently that the American wouldn't
press her.

	After looking into her face for a long moment, it seemed her prayers
were answered.  "Alright," she nodded.  Starting to turn away to lead the
Resistance leader back to her new home, she paused.  "But you'll tell me
sometime, right?"

	Akane hesitated, then nodded.  After all, she thought to herself, if
he told me about his problem...I can trust him with my story, can't I? 
Satisfied, the American began to lead the other girl along, taking her by the
hand back to her barracks.

	Walking slowly, the pair made their way through the base, Ranma
pointing out landmarks along the way.  "Okay, your barracks are on the south
side of the base, one road over from Center Street.  Got that?"  Ranma waited
for the other girl's nod, and continued.  "Okay.  Center Street is the
biggest road on the base...it runs from the main gate to the airstrips.  If
you're ever lost, make your way towards the middle of the base, and you'll
find it.  Easy, right?  Okay, then, this street..."  Ranma's voice was
abruptly cut off as she led Akane around the corner of a building.  "AWK! 
Sh...Shampoo!"

	Turning red from embarassment, Ranma raised one hand in greetings.
"Y...yo." she smiled weakly.  "Ho...how's it going?"  Shampoo didn't answer,
but she glared daggers at the American.  "O..oh!  Right...where are my
manners...Shampoo, this is, um, Akane.  She's...a friend."  Moving stiffly,
Ranma released Akane's hand, and motioned her to the Russian.  "Akane...meet
Shampoo...part of our Soviet Liaison."  Laughing nervously, Ranma put her hand
behind her head.

	Akane took a half step forwards.  "Ho..how do you do?"  Shampoo
didn't give any indication that she had even seen Akane yet.  Her eyes
continued to bore into Ranma, and her shoulders began to shake with rage.

	"You....how you know Shampoo's name?!"  She stepped forwards
menacingly, flames burning in her eyes.

	Ranma stepped back, raising her hands defensively.  "What do you
mean..how do I know your name?  Shampoo, that's not funny!"

	"You...you girl who humiliated Shampoo when she arrive here...you I
no can forgive!  And now you know Shampoo's name!  I kill you!!"

	Ranma blinked.  "Girl..who....ACK!  I forgot!"  Ranma shrieked as the
Russian came at her, hands balled into fists.  "Hey...I told you...it was an
accident!"  Ducking under Shampoo's punch, Ranma bolted past her, grabbing
Akane as she ran by.  "C'mon!!"

	"He...hey!"  Akane was hauled after the fleeing American again, while
the Russian girl regained her balance and turned to chase after the pair. 
"Don't get ME involved in this!!"

	"Just shut up and run, already!" Ranma yelled back.  "That girl's
dangerous!"

	Dangerous?  That was certainly easy enough to believe as Shampoo
chased the pair around the base.  Once again Akane was thoroughly lost as
Ranma fled, taking every random twist and turn she could in order to lose
their pursurer.  Finally, risking a glance over her shoulder, Ranma breathed
a sigh of relief.  "She's gone!  Quick, in here!!"  Without pause, Ranma
swung into a half-open doorway, pulling Akane around her, and slamming the
door shut behind them.

	Ranma leaded against the door for a moment, and listened.  Nothing...
apparently, they were safe.  She let her breath out.  "Finally, we're
safe....um?"  As the thrill of the chase gradually faded, she noticed that
she was still holding onto Akane...more than that really.  When she had
pulled Akane in, and pushed the door shut, she had also pulled the other girl
against her, protectively.  Hurriedly, Ranma opened her hand on Akane's
shoulder, letting her pull away.  Ranma's heart thudded heavily in her
chest...from exertion, she told herself.

	For her part, Akane was glad for the relative darkness of the room,
hiding the blush she felt on her face.  "S...so, who WAS she, anyways?"

	Ranma slumped against the doorframe.  "Like I said, her name's
Shampoo.  She's a Corporal, I think...part of the liaison from the Soviet
Union."

	"Seems like a pretty bad choice," Akane remarked.  "Are you always
this popular with women?"

	Sitting up straighter, Ranma glared through the darkness at Akane. 
"What's that supposed to mean?"

	Akane rolled her eyes.  "Oh, nevermind.  Why's she so angry at you
anyways?"

	"That's the thing, I don't really know..."  Ranma recounted the story
of her first meeting with the Soviet Liaison.  "Seems like a pretty minor
thing to be giving a 'Kiss of Death' over."

	With a nod, Akane agreed.  "Yeah...but then why didn't you run when
you saw her, if she's so out to get you?"

	Nervously, Ranma laughed.  "Well, I guess she doesn't know that the
male body is mine too.  Y'see, the next day..."  Carefully, Ranma told Akane
the story of the Black Rose's attack the following day, with a few, minor
changes.  "So, well, after the bomb went off, she was pretty disoriented and
all, so I, sort of took her around the base, uh, just like now, sorta.  And,
well, I've been her friend here....just."

	Ranma could hear the frown in Akane's voice.  "Friend?  You SURE
that's it?"

	"Yeah, I'm sure!  Not that it'd be any interest of YOURS, anyways..."

	"Not that I'd want it to be any of my business anyways," Akane
retorted.

	A barb seemed to peirce Ranma's chest, followed by a strange glumness
at that.  Yeah, she thought, not that's she'd want to anywa....what am I
thinking??  Shaking her head, Ranma regained her feet.  "Enough talk," she
cut in brusquely.  "Let's find out where we are, and we can get going from
here."  Fumbling for a lightswitch, Ranma flipped it up.  "Cover your eyes."

	A second later Ranma opened her eyes to see...."Oops," she said
meekly.

	Akane looked at her curiously.  "What do you mean, oops?"

	Ranma blushed.  "It's my barracks," she mumbled.

	Akane blinked, and looked around the small, single-bunk room.  "Um...
officers' quarters?"

	Ranma nodded.  "Well, at least it'll be easy to show you the way to
your barracks from here."  At the murderous light that flared in Akane's eyes,
Ranma flinched, and backed up slightly.  "Because it's just down the street,
dummy!  Nothing else..!?"  The Lieutenant spun suddenly as the door to the
rest of the barracks was suddenly kicked down, to reveal a familiar, purple-
haired shape beyond.

	"That very interesting story, Ranma," Shampoo began.  Ranma smiled a
bit...at least she knew that she was the same person now.  But her smile
quickly faded as the Russian continued.  "Shampoo see now how evil women
disguise herself to trick Shampoo!  Shampoo no even want to think about what
evil woman want kiss another woman!"

	"Kiss?"  Akane was suddenly between Ranma and Shampoo, glaring into
the American girls eyes, while her aura burned behind her.  "Is this TRUE,
Ranma?!"

	"He...hey!  It wasn't like that!" Ranma protested, backing away,
looking for escape.  "SHE kissed me!  I didn't mean to..it was an accident!"

	"An...accident??" Akane scowled deeper.  "How can you ACCIDENTALLY
kiss someone??"

	Ranma swallowed, sweat trickling down the back of her head.  "Um....
just lucky?"  She tried to laugh, a weak sound that abruptly ended as her
eyes went wide.  "Look out!!"  Pushing Akane down with her, the Lieutenant
collapsed to the floor, just ahead of the bonbori that flashed through the
air above them.

	Shampoo growled and turned to face the pair, another bonbori clutched
in her hand.  Ranma bounced to her feet, standing between Shampoo and
Akane.  "Shampoo, will you listen to me?!  It's not what you think!  It's a
curse!"

	"You no trick Shampoo!" she cried.  "You think Shampoo believe you? 
Hah!"

	Ranma stiffened up.  "What do you mean you don't believe me?  Akane,
tell her!"

	"Me?  Why do you have to drag me into this?"  Ranma turned, glaring
angrily at her, causing her to shrink back down slightly.  "Fine, alright..."

	Carefully, Akane got to her feet, keeping herself behind and to one
side of Ranma.  "It...it's true Shampoo.  I saw it."

	Shampoo considered Akane.  "Where you see?"

	"In France...just before he came back and knocked you over."

	"Hey!" was Ranma's only protest on the matter.

	Akane shushed him.  "It's the truth, Shampoo...Ranma is really a guy
cursed to have a woman's body, for at least part of the time."

	"Part-time?"  Shampoo frowned.  "How you mean?"

	Relaxing a bit, Akane nodded.  "Yeah, part-time.  If you throw hot
water on him, you'll see for yourself."

	Shampoo thought about this for a minute.  "Fine then.  You come!" 
Grabbing the others by their arms, she ran back into the barracks, towards
the common washroom.  There, she turned one of the sinks hot tap on full
blast, waited a moment, and shoved Ranma's head under it.

	"I-OWOWOWOWOWOW!!"  Ranma shrieked.  "That's hot!" he bellowed,
forcing his head out of the steaming stream of water.  Angrily, he stared at
Shampoo.  "You believe me now?"

	The Russian backed away..."Oh no...you really...."  her eyes
softened, then became hard.  "But you also to be killed."  The hard mask
broke away..."I...I confused!!"  With that, the girl broke, and ran from the
room, a lost look on her face.

	"Sham-" Ranma started after her, only to be blocked by Akane. 
"Akane!  Get outta my way, I gotta..."

	"You gotta what?" she mocked.  "You gotta take me back to my
barracks, right?"  She turned and sniffed.  "After that, Monsieur American,
you can chase whatever girls you like."

	Ranma scowled.  "Fine then.  Lets go, tomboy."  Jerkily, he turned,
and strode from the room, Akane following silently behind him.

	This time, the walk was silent, Akane noting the landmarks to herself
as they walked to her door.  The American was right, she thought...it was all
the way across the base, but it was still easy to find.  Finally, after only
a few turns, they arrived at the nurses barracks.

	Ranma motioned to her door.  "Well...here we are.  Goodnight,
tomboy."  Ranma finished, spiritlessly, and turned away, to shuffle back to
his own barracks.

	Watching him, Akane blurted, "I'm sorry, Ranma.  That was uncalled
for."  Ranma stopped, and looked up in surprise.  Hesitantly, Akane
continued.  "What...what I said about Shampoo, I mean."

	Ranma looked confused for a moment, then smiled slightly, and shook
it off.  "No, it's okay, really."  He turned, looking up at the sky.  "I
guess I should be glad that she's not..after me anymore.  Not wanting me
dead."

	Akane nodded slowly.  "Yeah...I understand."  Ranma nodded, and began
to walk off again.  "Hey, Ranma..?"

	"Yeah?" Ranma looked around.

	"Do you think...you could show me around some more tomorrow?  Help me
get my men sorted out?"

	Ranma nodded.  "Yeah, I think I can find time to do that."  He
smiled.  "Maybe our second date will work out a bit better than the first." 
Winking at her, he turned, and walked back up the dusty road, whistling
something tuneless, while Akane gaped after him.

	Date?  Hmpf.  The nerve of that American.  Akane turned around
quickly, and marched back up the steps of her building, trying to ignore the
little smile on her face...
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ooh, a part out in less than 2 months.  I amaze myself sometimes...

BTw, this should be about the midpoint of the series.  Anyone out there still
with me?  Hope so...only another year to go.  @_@



Ranma - Fall of the Eagle 8
by James Stone
stoner@elycion.geology.ualberta.ca
(c) 1996 Stone Age Productions  All Rights Reserved
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kitty Field

	Crying bitterly, Shampoo ran through the dusty streets of the British
airfield.  She was betrayed, hurt, confused.  Her lover was her enemy?  How
could that be?  There was only one person she could turn to now.  Rounding
the corner, she stumbled blindly, and crashed headlong into...

	"Sh...Shampoo?"  Mousse's voice broke as the slight figure careened
into him, knocking him back two steps.  "Where have you been?  I've been
looking all over for you.  I thought maybe after supper you and I could--"

	Mousse's ramblings were cut off short as Shampoo looked up at him. 
His breath caught in his throat.  This look....  Only once before had Mousse
ever seen Shampoo cry, the night after their first battle in Stalingrad.  She
had looked the same then as she did now, tears leaving glistening tracks in
the dark dust covering her face.  It had been then that Mousse had first
gathered up the courage to really talk to the girl, seeing her so open,
seemingly so vulnerable.  Now, seeing her once again like this, Mousse lost
what little control he had, and swept the girl into his grasp.  "Oh,
Shampoo!!  Whatever is wrong with you?  Tell me, please, so I can UNNGH."  
The man doubled over as Shampoo's fist pumped into his face, hard, knocking
his glasses flying.

	"Leave Shampoo alone!!" she cried.  "I no have time for you!!"  With
that, Shampoo ran off again, leaving Mousse croaking feebly in her dust.

	"Sh...Shampoo..." he croaked, and fell face-first into the dirt.

	Shampoo continued her flight, winding her way through the maze of
narrow streets, bowling through the crowds as shifts ended and soldiers of
all types made their way back to their barracks.  Finally, she came to the
headquarters building, and the office of the Soviet Liaison.

	"Great-grandmother!!" the girl bawled, bursting into the room and
collapsing on Cologne's desk.  "I...I no know what to do!!"  She buried
her head in her arms, and begin sobbing deeply, unmindful of the two British
officers standing at the desk beside her.

	Cologne and the officers looked at the sobbing Shampoo in shock. 
Cologne recovered first.  Looking worriedly at her charge, the woman raised
an eyebrow at the others.  Taking the hint, the two men straightened,
saluted, and walked quickly out of the office, chuckling under their breaths
at the Russian girl.

	Shampoo didn't pay any attention to the actions of Cologne or the
officers.  Her heart was broken.  She was betrayed, betrayed by the man she
loved, whom had saved her life.  How could he do such a thing?  How could he
be the hero who had saved her from certain death at the hands of the German
attack one minute, and the wench who had slighted and embarassed her the
next?  It didn't make any sense.  How could she want to kill the man she
wanted to marry?  Or how could she want to marry the girl she had sworn to
kill?

	A touch on her shoulder caused her to lift her head, and stare
tearfully into the eyes above.  This was the only person whom she could turn
to, her commanding officer, the great-grandmother she had never had.  Those
eyes, which could be so cold to an enemy, now warm and understanding.

	"Shampoo, how could you interrupt me like that?"  The tone was only
mildly reproving, Cologne understood that Shampoo would never appear so...
dramatically, unless in serious trouble.  "What on earth has happened to
you?"

	Slowly, hesitantly, Shampoo began her story.  She started from the
beginning, when the girl leaving the truck had crushed her.  Cologne merely
nodded at this.  She had been there after all, and while she felt that
Shampoo was sometimes a little hasty in swearing vengance, she could
understand the girl's feelings.  At the mention of the American, the old
woman smiled.  A man was something Shampoo needed, someone that could calm
Shampoo down somewhat, to direct her energy elsewhere.  And if the American
was all that Shampoo claimed he was...Cologne made a mental note to track
this man down and observe him.  Then Shampoo got to the climax of the story.

	"What?!"  Cologne leaned forwards sharply in her chair.  "What did
you say happened to him?"

	Shampoo sniffled, she could hardly blame great-grandmother for not
believing her.  But she repeated the line anyways.  "He..he change into a
woman."  She sniffled again, fresh tears welling up into her eyes.  "And now
I no know what to do!!!"

	Barely noticing the wailing girl now, Cologne leaned back into her
chair in surprise.  So, she mused.  Once again my past returns to me.  How
surprising that it should be here of all places.  Cologne returned to the
present, and looked down at Shampoo.  And to her life, the old lady added.

	"Shampoo, listen to me."  The girl looked up.  "This...is a very
interesting problem."

	Shampoo blinked.  "You mean...you mean you believe story?"

	Cologne nodded.  "Of course, child.  I know you would never lie to
me, so I'd believe you anyways."  Shampoo blinked in surprise, wondering at
the final word.  "But, as fate would have it, I have experience with the
young man's curse."

	"You mean he really is man?" Shampoo wondered.

	The old woman nodded her head.  "Yes, he is.  The story is this: 
many, many hundreds of years ago, in the remote mountains of Bayankala, a
group of mysterious warriors, known as the Phoenix People, happened upon a
large source of magical power, which they named Chyuuchyuanshian.  It was a
clearing, filled with many pools of water."

	"The Phoenix people quickly discovered the nature of the pools:  when
an animal or person drowned in the pool, whoever fell in the pool afterwards
would be cursed with the body of whatever drowned there."

	"Shortly after they discovered this, the Phoenix People disappeared. 
Noone knows where they went, although it is believed they all cursed
themselves with the body of the Phoenix, and flew off to find the source of
Chyuuchuanshian."

	Cologne sighed.  "But that is all history to me."  She looked at
Shampoo.  "Many have wondered about my ancestry, have they not?"

	Shampoo's eyes widened, and she nodded dumbly.  Cologne watched the
nod, and answered with one of her own.  "Yes, I will tell you know."  She
paused to take a puff of her long pipe.  "I am from China, from a village
nearby to Chyuuchuanshian.  It was, and still is, a village of strong
warrior-women."  She paused to smile at Shampoo.  "In fact, you are descended
from the village...our blood is strong in your veins."

	Shampoo touched her own face hesitantly.  "What you mean?  Mother..?"

	Cologne nodded.  "Yes, in fact.  Your mother came with me when I last
left the village, many years ago.  She eventually settled down with a man,
your father, and raised you. Mousse's father comes from a nearby village in
China, as well.  But, that doesn't explain the young man."

	"When I was young, a rogue passed through our village.  He was a
fiend, stealing our food, and making lewd suggestions to all the women in the
village.  He was also, however, a powerful warrior, and regardless of how
much we tried, we could not defeat him."

	"At last, my friends Rinse and Gel hit upon a desperate plan.  We
knew of Chyuuchyuanshian, of course.  Our parents had warned us often as
children never to go near there. But this was a desperate situation, we had
nothing else to lose."

	"Surprisingly, our deception worked.  In the late of night, I lured
the fiend to the springs, agreeing to his advances.  Of course I was only
pretending...I didn't know then if what he suggested was even possible
without limbs becoming disjointed."

	Seeing the confused look on Shampoo's face, Cologne quickly hurried
on.  "So I lured him to the springs, where Gel and Rinse had covered one of
the ponds with brushes and twigs.  I lured him to the pond, where it was
planned to push him in.  It all worked perfectly."

	Cologne scowled.  "Except that he WAS a true warrior.  Although we
thought we had duped him, he obviously had divined our plan.  When Rinse and
Gel charged out at him, and I stuck my foot out, he leapt away, vanishing
into the bushes, leaving nothing behind except the echos of his laughter. 
One good thing did come of it, however...he left the village for many many
years."

	"But as for us...when he lept away, I tripped, and fell to the ground
beside the pool.  Rince was lucky, and she fell on top of me.  But Gel..."

	"What happen to Gel?" whispered Shampoo, leaning forwards.

	"She...fell through the branches, and disappeared into the pool. 
With a yell and a splash, she vanished under the water, leaving nothing but
bubbles behind."

	"In a panic, Rinse lunged towards the pool, intending to pull Gel
out.  Fortunately, I was able to grab her before she could do such a rash
act.  Neither of us knew exactly what to expect...while we knew the springs
were cursed, we didn't know exactly HOW they were cursed.  Then...
IT appeared."

	"What appear?" Shampoo asked, voice tense.

	Cologne sighed heavily, and paused to take a long drag on her pipe. 
She hesitated a long moment, considering her answer carefully.  Finally, she
spoke.  "A cat."

	Shampoo overbalanced, and fell heavily to the floor.  "Wh..what?  I
no hear you correctly..."

	Smiling slightly, Cologne nodded.  "Oh, yes you did, child.  I said,
that a cat came out of the spring.  Yes...a small one, with large ears, and
light-brown fur..the same shade as Gel's hair.  Looking at it...somehow I
knew that it was her."

	Cologne continued on.  "Quickly, we grabbed the cat, and ran back to
the village.  There, we took Gel to one of the old women in the town, and
explained ourselves.  She was angry at us for going to the Chyuuchyuanshian,
but she had seen the lech in the village, and understood.  But she told us
that there was no cure for her curse.  No permanent cure, in any case."

	"Then she did something we didn't understand.  She ordered us to heat
a pot of water to just below boiling.  We did so, and brought it back to her. 
Then, without a word, she took the water, and poured it on the cat.  When the
steam cleared away, Gel was kneeling in front of us!"

	"We were so relieved, we didn't really understand what had happened,
so the old woman explained it to us.  For the rest of her life, whenever she
was hit with cold water, Gel would turn into the cat.  When the cat was hit
with warm water, Gel would return to her human form."

	Leaning back in her chair, Cologne smiled grimly.  "Terrible as it
was, we three thought it was a small price to pay for ridding the village of
such a fiend."  Taking another pull on her pipe, she turned to Shampoo.  "So,
child, now do you understand what has become of your American?"

	Shampoo nodded.  "Yes, great-grandmother, I understand."  A frown
wrinkled her forehead.  "But I no understand how he get curse if springs in
China."

	Cologne shrugged her shoulders.  "The Americans have been in China
for some time now, Shampoo, fighting the Japanese.  This American is one of
their Special Operatives,is he not?  No doubt he gained his experience
there."

	Nodding, Shampoo stood up.  "I...have one more question." she began.

	Cologne nodded, as if expecting it.  "Yes, child, what is it?"

	Shampoo hesitated for a moment.  "Which...which feelings take
precedence?  Feelings to kill, or feelings of love?"

	Rocking back in her chair, Cologne laughed.  "I think, child, that in
this case, your love for him is stronger than your grudge.  Or else why were
you so hurt by the knowledge of the curse?"

	Shampoo thought it over for a second, then nodded, a smile slowly
spreading across her face.  "Yes!" she said.  "I see!  I love Ranma!" 
Suddenly the smile disappeared from her face, replaced with a worried look. 
"Oh no!  I no have much time!  Ranma go back to field soon!"   Determination
on her face, Shampoo spun out of the room, and ran off, rubbing the tear-
streaks from her face as she went.

	Watching her charge leave, Cologne chuckled quietly to herself.  Yes,
she thought, this American will definitly be good for Shampoo.  Now to make
sure that he knows it.  Hopping to the door of the office on her staff, she
called to the Corporal sitting there, "Bring me any files on the American
Special Forces team on base!"

Kitty Field, the next morning

	What a way to start the day, Ranma grumbled to himself as he and
Akane climbed the steps to the British headquarters.  He had been looking
forwards to another relaxing day mostly off-duty, while he and his troops
rested from their rescue mission.  So he'd been enjoying a nice, large,
leisurely breakfast, when the British Captain walked up to him, and told him
that Brigadier Shiratori wanted to see him, at 0800 on the dot.  And, the
Captain had added casually, if he could find that Resistance leader,
Shiratori was very interested in meeting him as well.

	Another day of lesiure shot to hell.  Glancing over at the tomboy,
Ranma scowled to himself.  Why did she have to be so damned grouchy about
this?  It wasn't like it was his fault that Brigadier Shiratori wanted to
meet her.

	For her part, Akane was in just as foul a mood, liberally shot
through with the same fear she'd felt since arriving on the base.  Meeting a
Brigadier?  What was she supposed to do?  She'd been on her own for three
years now, in command for over a year of it.  The Resistance had nothing
like this rank structure...everyone did their part based on their abilities.
This base was turning out to be as hostile as France, although everyone
tried to make her feel at ease.

	Except one person.  Akane glared briefly at the American.  He knew
she felt trapped here, but he certainly seemed to be enjoying her
discomforture.  Maybe that was why he had come to get her personally this
morning, so he could watch her fidget in front of the Brigadier in her grungy
fatigues.  Turning her eyes back to the building, she straightened herself
up.  No way she'd give him that satisfaction!

	Glowering companionably, the pair entered the lobby of the
headquarters.  "This way," Ranma gestured, leading the Resistance leader down
a narrow hallway.  "When I was assigned here, I had a briefing with a...uh...
Commander Sanzenin, I think."  When the girl failed to respond, Ranma sighed,
and sulked briefly, before the hallway opened out into another small lobby.

	"Lieutenant Saotome, reporting to see Brigadier Shiratori," Ranma
said, standing at attention in front of the desk.  Hurriedly Akane pulled
herself up to attention beside him.

	At the desk, the Sergeant just stared at him.  Looking fixedly at the
wall in front of him, Ranma tried again.  "Uhh...American Lieutenant Saotome,
reporting to see Brigadier Shiratori, Sergeant."  Damned generals aides, he
thought to himself angrily.  Damn sergeants think they've got so much power,
they know so much...I'll see him on report!

	The pen the Sergeant was holding clattered to the floor, breaking the
spell.  Cursing under his breath, the Sergeant quickly bent down to retrieve
it.  As he did so, Ranma's eyes lowered, and when the Sergeants head lifted
again, their eyes met.

	The door to the Brigadier's office suddenly blew open, a whirlwind
of memos, briefing papers, and flourescent green crepe paper blowing over the
sergeant's desk, and, incidentally, Ranma, who was completely frozen.
From the inside of the office came a squeal.  "Oh, CUUUUTE!  Lieutenant
Saotome, come in, come in, quickly!  Ooooh, you look so CUUUTE with the paper
in your
hair like that!  Here!  Here!  Let little Azusa decorate you more!!"  With
that, a tiny hand reached out of the office, and pulled the stiff American
through the door.  Confusedly, against her better judgement, Akane followed
after him, the door slamming shut behind her as soon as she had stepped
inside.

	Whatever Akane had expected of a Brigadier's office, lace doilies
and stuffed animals were definitely among the last things she would have
expected, somewhere behind swastikas and portraits of Hitler.  The
Brigadier herself was even more unlikely.  A tiny little girl, looking
younger than Akane herself, bounced around the room, seemingly teleporting
instantaneously from place to place, grabbing more fluffy and frilly items to
decorate the American with.

	Stunned and overwhelmed as she was, Akane was clearly more capable of
handling this briefing, or whatever it was, then Ranma was.  Clearing her
throat, she began timidly.  "Um...excuse me?"  The Brigadier took no notice,
now finished with Ranma, and redecorating her bookcase.  "Excuse me?"  Again,
nothing.  Akane was beginning to get upset.  If someone in her cell
behaved like this, she'd shoot him herself, and save the Nazi's the
ammunition.  "HEY!!!  Are you LISTENING to us?!"

	The force of the blast bowled Ranma over, and seemed to shake him out
of his shock.  More importantly, it attracted the Brigadiers attention. 
Looking at the young Resistance leader, her eyes grew wide and shiny. 
"Oooooooh!!!"  she began, drawing a deep breath.  "You're so CUUUUTE!!"  She
launched herself full tilt at Akane, who just barely managed to dodge out of
the way.  Unfazed, the Brigadier began bouncing all around her.  "You must
be the Resistance leader!  Miss Tendo, right? right?"

	Hesitantly, Akane stammered her consent.  Shiratori stopped bouncing,
and merely gazed at her, her eyes shimmering.  "Oooooh...how wonderful, that
the Resistance is so cuuuuute."

	Ranma stood up, looking horrified at all the frilly additions the
Brigadier had made to his best fatigues.  Picking them off disdainfully, he
muttered in Akane's direction, "Don't get all swelled up...her sense of cute
is obviously screwed up."  He dropped a lemon-yellow ribbon on the desk.

	Akane glowered at Ranma, who glared back, sticking his tongue out. 
Ignoring them both, Shiratori spun away from Akane, and suddenly was seated
behind her desk.  "Please, have a seat," she said, her voice totally level,
no trace of the little girl present now.

	At least briefly.  She couldn't help herself from a small squeal of
pleasure as a butterfly landed on the windowsill, and she was unable to
refrain from tying a small lavender bow on Akane's finger as she seated
herself.  But then she swivelled her chair to face the American.

	"Mr. Saotome, it seems as if our Russian friends have some interest
in you."  Ranma straightened up in surprise, a look of fear crossing his
face.  Azusa peered at him intently.   "You know this already then?"

	"I, uh, well..." he stammered.  "I mean, it wasn't my fault she
started coming onto me!  I was just protecting her!  I couldn't just let her
run into that building..."  Seeing the look on the Brigadier's face, he
trailed off.  "Uh...that's what you mean, isn't it?"

	Shiratori shook her head quickly, wiping a bead of sweat off her
brow.  "Er, no, but that might explain this.  I take it you're referring to
Corporal, uh..." she paused to look down at her files.  "Um, yes, Corporal
Shyanletsova?"

	"Er...yeah.  Yeah, that's her name, I guess.  Everyone just calls her
Shampoo though."

	Shiratori nodded, and marked that down in the file.  "So, what did
you do to this Shampoo to have the Soviet's searching for any information
that anyone can provide about you?"

	Ranma's eyes went wide.  "Nothing!  I swear!  We didn't do anything! 
Not a thing!  We're just friends!  That's it!  There's nothing between us!" 
He stopped, hearing the silence in the room.  The Brigadier was just staring
at him curiously again, while the look Akane was giving him was murderous. 
With a sniff, she turned her head away angrily.  Who cares? she clearly
communicated silently.

	"Well, even if you don't care about him, Miss Tendo, the Russians
certainly are interested in him, in all manners it seems," Brigadier
Shiratori said dryly.  Akane flushed and looked angrily at the general, who
ignored the glare.  "In any case, I thought I'd let you know about it, in
case it will cause you any problems?"

	Ranma shook his head, flushing slightly.  Shiratori nodded, still
looking directly at him.  "We are, of course, cooperating with them in this
search, since we are allies, and it's not surprising they'd want information
about the American's best Special Ops officer."  Ranma nodded stiffly again. 
"And it's no problem that we can't give them any information from your last
month in China, nor your time in the United States before being transferred
here?"

	His face reddinging further, Ranma sat up straight.  "Ma'am, that
information is classified at the highest level, only available on a need-to-
know basis.  If you want that information, you have to talk to Captain
Saotome, at Meade Air Force Base in the United States."

	The Brigadier merely smiled.  "Yes, I know that already, Mr.Saotome. 
Since it seemingly doesn't impinge on your effectiveness as a Special Ops
leader, we have no need to know what happened in that period.  We'll tell
the Russians the same."  Ranma nodded stiffly.  "Very well, that's all,
you're dismissed."

	Akane blinked.  "Dismissed?  Excuse me, ma'am?"  The Resistance
leader leaned forwards.   "Why did you call me here as well?"

	The Brigadier smiled sunnily, the hardness gone from her eyes. 
"Ohhhhh, riiiight!!  Little Azusa is _so_ forgetful!  I just wanted to meet
and thank you myself, since you've done us such a great service!!"  The
Brigadier hopped on the desk, and whispered in Akane's ear.  "And I wanted to
let you know personally that your sisters are doing just fine!"  With that,
she hopped back onto her chair, and started jumping up and down.  "Okay! 
That's all!  Bye-bye, you're dismissed."  Hurriedly, the two stood, saluted,
and retreated before the strange Brigadier decided to decorate using them.

	In the lobby, Ranma walked past the sergeant's desk, neither one
looking up or saying a word.  But as Akane glanced over, wondering why Ranma
had reacted so strangely, she saw the other American slip a small piece of
paper into Ranma's hip pocket, and smile secretively....

	As soon as they were outside the building, Akane turned to face
Ranma.  "Alright, who is he?" she demanded.  Ranma opened his mouth to reply,
and Akane interrupted.  "And don't tell me some stupid excuse like it was
just a mistake.  I saw the note he slipped you."  Jamming her hands on her
hips, she stared at him, waiting.  "Well?"

	Ranma opened his mouth again, hesitating.  When the woman made no
move to interrupt, he cleared his throat, and continued.  "Hmpf.  Why should
I tell you?  It's none of your business who..."  Seeing the glare cross
Akane's face, he quickly backed down, sulkily.  "Alright, fine.  If you
_must_ know, he's an old friend of mine.  We went through Basic Training
together."

	Swiftly, the angry look on Akane's faced passed, and was replaced
with contrition.  "Oh...I'm sorry.  I didn't know."

	Mollified, Ranma relaxed slightly.  "Anyways, lets see what -he
wants."  He stuttered briefly over the pronoun as he reached around to his
back pocket to get the note.  Opening the note, he read it aloud. 
"'Leiutenant Saotome', my ass!  I always knew your head was too big...you
musta hit it against something after you left us!  ^_-  Anyways, I'm off duty
at 1630 today, why don't you stop by the shacks after that and pick me up? 
If ya want, bring your friend along too."  As he read this, Ranma's face
reddened slightly.  Clearing his throat again, he finished.  "We'll go raise
some hell together, just like old times, eh, 'sir'?"  Ranma's eyes widened at
the end of the note.  "Then it's signed...Ukyou."

	Akane blinked, thinking back to their entrance, remembering the
nametag on the sergeant's fatigue blouse.  "Ukyou...Kuonji?"  When Ranma
nodded, she beamed.  "That's great, finding a friend here!"  Her face
lost some of its cheer.  "I'm, really happy for you, Monseiur American."

	"He, hey!  What's with that face?" Ranma demanded.  "You're not still
mad at me for waking you up, are you?"

	She shook her head.  "Ah..no.  I, um, have to go.  I should go check
up on my men, see that they're being properly housed.  I'll see you this
afternoon then."  Quickly, she turned away, and started to run off.

	"W...wait!  Akane!  You...stupid!  You don't know where, uh, he's
staying!  Idiot!" he swore as she rounded the corner.  Disconsolately, he
kicked at the ground.  What had gotten into her anyways?  Oh well, she'd work
it out, he supposed.  And when she did, he was gonna have an even bigger
problem....

	Ranma walked slowly off in the direction of his barracks, Ukyou's
note, complete with a little heart beside his name, stuck back in his pocket.

	Walking by herself, Akane berated herself, but her heart just wasn't
in it.  She _was_ happy for Ranma, that was the funny part.  He seemed to
pleased to see his old friend, although, he was certainly acting a bit
strange.  Maybe he had caught a cold, it wouldn't be all that uncommon for
England.  But he had been pleased, that had been easy to pick up.  And his
being happy made her happy.  She didn't know why yet, but she was starting to
suspect.

	But when she had said that he had found an old friend, she had
realized just how alone she was.  She wasn't going to run into any old
friends here, she'd never really had any.  Just classmates, and she had left
school early.  She had sisters, and the Brigadier's message cheered her up
a little bit, but then, how did she know?  She shrugged to herself.  Except
for her men, and the American, she was alone on what was now foreign soil.

	Well, she thought to herself, after tonight, I'll probably know more. 
But she was reluctant to meet Ranma's friend.  Probably, she thought, they'd
get so involved on catching up that he'd forget all about her.  Best not to
be there.  Besides, she thought to herself, I don't even know where to go.

	That thought brought her to a halt.  Speaking of knowing where to go,
where was she?  Quickly she looked around, and felt an surge of relief when
she spied the base hospital.  That would have been even worse...not only
lonely, but lost on a foriegn base.  But when she had been out with the
American yesterday, she had learned enough of the base to find her way to
where she needed to go...and the hospital was as good a place to start as
any.

	Walking into the building, the first face she saw was a friendly one. 
Looking up as she heard footsteps, Akari smiled widely.  "Oh!  Mis...er, I
mean, Akane!  Good morning!  You're here to see your comrade, I imagine?"  At
the Resistance leader's response, Akari nodded, the smile fading from her
face.  "Yes...well, alright.  But only briefly."  She looked grave.  "I'm
afraid he reacted badly during surgery last night...he had an allergic
reaction to some of the anesthetics we used."  Seeing the look on Akane's
face, Akari forced a more positive tone into her voice.  "But don't worry! 
He's stabilized now!  We've moved him, however, and placed him under the head
nurse's care."

	Akane nodded curtly, forcing her personal concern underneath her
professional mask.  "That's good...I need him as fast as possible.  Where is
he?"

	Akari nodded understandingly.  "This way, please."  Picking up a
chart, the nurse led Akane past the minimal-care ward, through a curtain, and
into the intensive-care ward.  Placing herself between the woman and the bed,
Akari spoke firmly.  "I'm afraid I can't let you stay very long, or wake the
patient, Miss Tendo.  Nor can you touch him.  But he's recovering nicely, so
I'll let you see for yourself."

	Akane nodded, letting her relief break through her mask.  "Thank you,
Nurse Unryuu.  May I see my man now?"  Akari nodded, and stepped aside to let
the leader step forwards.

	It was hard to see anything good there...the man lying on the bed was
far thinner than he had been the night before, his skin pale, and almost
hidden under ugly red blotches.  A thin sheen of sweat covered his body, and
his sheets were soaked with more.  Stiffening slightly, Akane forced herself
to look away, at the nurse.

	Nodding, Akari answered her unspoken question.  "Yes, I know how bad
he looks.  But, really, he's doing just fine.  The weight loss is from
dehydration, from fever and vomiting.  But," and she gestured to the IV line
disappearing under the sheets, "we're working to restore that loss now.  And
his fever just broke two hours ago, and his temperature is stable."  She
smiled.  "Nurse Tendo is very good with cases like his."

	Her eyes widening, and her legs going weak, Akane missed the end of
Akari's statement.  "Ex...excuse me?  Nurse...who?"

	Akari blinked slightly in confusion.  "Nurse Tendo....ooooooh!!"  The
girls eyes widened in surprise.  "Akane...Tendo?  Bu...but you're from
France!  You can't possibly...can you?"

	Akane grabbed Akari's shoulders excitedly.  "Is she here?  Today? 
Now?!"  Overwhelmed, Akari just nodded numbly.  "Where is she?  I have to
talk to her!  Please tell me-"

	"Akane?"  The soft whisper cut her off.  "Akane...?  Is...it that
you?"  Akane slowly turned her head, looking at the tall, long-haired
brunette, the woman whom she hadn't seen for three years.  "Oh!  Oh my
goodness....Akane!!"  Tearfully the head nurse dropped her charts untidily on
the floor and ran into the arms of her sister, who was tearing around the bed
of her comrade to the reunion.  Akari and the other nurses stood around,
tears glimmering in Akari's eyes, confusion the only thing present in the
others.  First a man, and now this strangely dressed young lady?  What was
wrong with their leader?

	"Oh, oh Akane, we were so worried about you!  Why did you do such a
thing?  Where were you?"  Catching herself, and wiping her eyes hurriedly,
Kasumi shook her head at her little sister.  "No, wait.  Go wait outside. 
I'll be right there."  Hurriedly she backed away and collected her charts...
"Oh..oh my...Akari?  Could you please cover for me?  I..." she guestured to
Akane.  "I have to get caught up on something."  Akari only nodded, her own
tears streaming freely as she moved to take the clipboards.  "Akane...why are
you still standing here?  Hurry, shoo!"  She pushed her sister gently towards
the curtains, both women laughing and crying simultaneously.  "I can't just
run off like this!  But I'll be right out, I promise!"  Akane nodded, and
quickly left the room, while Kasumi swiftly reassigned her willing, if
confused subordinates to cover for her absence, rearranged the schedule to
make up for it later, and ran out to the street, to another, slightly less
emotional reunion.

	Hugging Kasumi tightly, Akane began.  "Kasumi, what are you doing
here?  I thought you were at working in London?"

	Laughing, Kasumi wiped the last tears from her eyes.  "You're asking
me why _I'm_ not where I'm supposed to be?  After you ran away from home?" 
When Akane stiffened, and pulled away from her, Kasumi shook her head firmly,
and hugged her tightly again.  "No, no!  It's okay, it is.  We..." and she
faltered.  "We all understand now."  Her voice was subdued.

	Concerned, Akane looked up at her sister.  "Dad?"  When Kasumi shook
her head, she drew in her breath.  "No, not..?"

	Smiling gently, Kasumi took Akane's hand.  "Come...we'll get
something to eat, and I'll tell you."  When Akane opened her mouth, Kasumi
placed her finger over her lips.  "Not another word till we get there.  Now
come."

	Leading the way, Kasumi took her sister to the Base Store, which also
served as a small coffeeshop.  Getting a coffee for each of them, she sat
down at the table, and smiled at her sister, waiting for the first question.

	"Nabiki?"

	Closing her eyes, her smile fading somewhat, the elder sister nodded. 
"Yes...you know how adamant she was against your leaving."  When Akane
nodded, Kasumi continued.  "As soon as we discovered that you had run away,
she made her mind up that you couldn't take care of yourself, and went off
after you.  Not to change your mind, we knew that wasn't possible by that
point, but to keep an eye on you."

	Kasumi sighed.  "Then we lost track of her.  Father had ensured that
she got into the Armed Forces...he still has many friends there.  It was only
later that we discovered that you hadn't run off to the Army like you had
threatened to after all.  But by then..."  She shrugged.  "Nabiki was just as
strong-willed as you are, Akane.  She agreed with you, you know."

	Akane blinked in surprise, bringing Kasumi's smile back.  "Of
course...you don't think she could ever really oppose you, do you?  But she's
not as...active as you are.  She knew you had to be there, and...I think, so
did she."

	Akane leaned forwards, cutting her sister off.  "Kasumi...is
Nabiki...?"

	Licking her lips, Kasumi shook her head, tears welling up again. 
"I...I don't know, Akane.  It's been so long...."  The two women reached
across the table, and wept briefly on the others shoulders.

	Kasumi broke the embrace first, pulling back, and wiping her eyes
with her napkin.  "But...you're here.  And you were certainly in more danger
than she could be.  She...she _must_ be alive."

	Akane nodded firmly.  "She...she _must_ be!  She's too sneaky to get
killed!"  This broke Kasumi up into infectious giggles, and the girls lost
another several minutes composing themselves.

	"Oh, Akane...I'm so glad you're back.  It's been hard, not knowing. 
This is just such a huge relief...I don't know what to say."

	Akane shook her head.  "I..I know it, trust me.  I've only been here
for a day, but, it's all been so strange...it's.s.."  She laughed nervously. 
"It's worse than where I've been."

	Kasumi looked at Akane searchingly.  "Can you tell me now?  Where
you've been?"

	Shaking her head regretfully, Akane answered, "Non, madamemoiselle."  
Kasumi's eyes widened in surprise and fear for her sister, then cleared.

	"At least you're here now.  When...when are you gone?"

	"I don't know."  She shook her head.  "I shouldn't be here at all...
there was some trouble.  We just got...I mean, we just made it back."

	Kasumi nodded.  "Alright, I'm sorry, I shouldn't pry.  I know better,
it's just...I'm so glad to see you again!"

	Nodding, Akane changed the topic.  "Kasumi, how's Dad?"

	Her sister smiled.  "He's well!  He took...your and Nabiki's leaving
very hard, but, he managed, I think."  Her smile widened slightly.  "I think
reminding him of his story about how he and his old American friend made it
to France last time helped him some."  Later, Akane swore her sister couldn't
have giggled, although her shoulders certainly trembled suspiciously.  "After
that, he was all set to sign up again, and do it over."

	Sitting forwards, Akane's eyes widened.  "He didn't!"

	Kasumi smiled, and nods.  "Yes, but, don't worry.  This time, he
didn't pass the physical examination.  Unfortunately, his feet flattened over
the years...enough to disqualify him.  However, because of his knowledge, the
SAS hired him on as a special consultant, so he feels like he's doing his
part."

	Akane smiled, and nodded.  "And what about you?  When did you get
transferred?"  The response was unexpected...her sister went pale, and her
hands clutched convulsively at the table.  "Kasumi?  Are you alright?  I'm
sorry...it's alright, you don't have to say."

	Her sister shook her head.  "N...no, it's alright.  It...it was a
long time ago."  She paused a moment to compose herself.  "The hospital where
I was working when you left was bombed two weeks later.  It's gone."

	Akane's eyes widened in horror.  "On, Kasumi...were you...?"

	Kasumi smiled, a bitter smile unlike any her sister had ever seen
Kasumi wear before.  "Of course I was...we were one of the last targets. 
Everyone was there...it was September, when the Nazis were bombing the
civilians.  We were full up...they waited.  It was _deliberate_.  They bombed
a hospital."

	She shook her head.  "It was the only time they ever did that...at
least that I know of.  A special squadron.  I thought they were gone, but
then they attacked us again, just last week.  At least this time they spared
the wounded."

	She paused a moment to compose herself again.  "But after I...I left
the hospital, the first thing I did was volunteer for the Army Medical Corps,
and they let me in, with no trouble.  And just this year I was made head
nurse of the hospital."

	Akane nodded slowly..."That's great, Kasumi.  After all
that...you're doing alright."

	Kasumi smiled at her sister, reaching over to squeeze her hand.  "We
all are, Akane, even Nabiki.  I'm sure of it."  Squeezing her hand, Akane
nodded.  "Now...where do you have to go next?  I'll take you there."

	Her feelings bouyed, Akane was only mildly surprised when she heard
herself saying, "Um, could you take me to the Base Security Barracks?  I've
got a friend to meet there later today...."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Wow, ain't it amazing what happens when your main distraction is taken away? 
Like I said, here's part 8, and part 9 is already 1/3 done, so, it'll be done
quick too.  Really, I promise.  ^_^


Ranma - Fall of the Eagle Chapter 9
by James Stone
stoner@elycion.geology.ualberta.ca
(c) 1996 Stone Age Productions  All Rights Reserved
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kitty Field, late afternoon

	When 1630 came around, it found Ranma sitting with his senior NCO's, 
reviewing the performance of the rescue mission.  Most of the NCOs, 
especially the Warrant Officer were surprised that there hadn't been any sort 
of official reprimand from the Brigadier, most having assumed that was why 
Ranma and the Resistance girl had been called to her office that morning.  
Ranma hadn't elaborated on the reason for the summons, shrugging off the 
questions by saying that the Brigadier had just wanted to become acquainted 
with the Resistance leader.

	"I guess since we can't send her back, the Brigadier decided to live 
with it," was Ranma's summary.  Surprised but pleased, the talk had turned 
back to the impromptu mission, going over what had gone right, and what
could have been done differently, so that they'd be even more prepared in
the future.

	At 1630, the base's horn gave one short wail, signalling the end of 
another official work day.  At the sound, Ranma jumped up, and grinned 
apologetically at his men.  "Sorry men, I've got to run.  I think we've 
covered most everything here anyways...we can continue tomorrow morning if 
needed, right, Warrant?"

	The Warrant nodded.  "Righto, sir."  He stood up to give the American 
a proper salute, which was returned; then his face dropped into a sly grin.  
"Off to see our French friend again?"

	"Oi, Warrant, I thought he was after that little Russian cutie," a 
sergeant piped up.

	Ranma glared at the both of them.  "Since when if my personal life 
any of your guys' business, anyways?  Sheesh."  He turned to walk out the 
door.  "But for your information, it's neither of them.  An old friend from 
Stateside."

	"Oh!  Well, that's a bit of luck, isn't it then?  Jolly good for 
you," the sergeant replied by way of apology.  "Alright, off with you 
sir, we'll see you tomorrow."  Grinning, the sergeant waved Ranma out the 
door.

	His step light, Ranma nearly bounced all the way to the Security 
barracks.  The day had been a good one after all, after he had gotten out of 
that damn strange interview with the Brigadier.  He guessed he knew why the 
Russians were asking questions about him...Shampoo had probably told that old 
woman about him and his problem.  Ranma suppressed an involuntary shiver.
There was something about that old lady...he definitly hoped that she
didn't end up his enemy.

	The Base Security barracks were all single and double rooms, one of 
the advantages of being permanent base staff.  As a Sergeant, Ukyou rated a 
single room on the building's second floor.  Asking the Corporal at the door 
for directions, Ranma quickly found his way to the right door, and knocked.

	It swung open immediately, a hand lunging out to grab the 
Leiutenant and pull him through.  Before he could protest at such treatment, 
the door slammed shut behind him again, and he found himself with his arms 
full of very excited Sergeant.

	"He...hey!  Ukyou!  Give a guy a bit of warning before you do that!" 
Ranma scolded, grinning hugely.  "I mean, what if that door wasn't closed!  
Don't you think a senior NCO and an officer groping each other like this 
would be kinda weird?"  He gave Ukyou's shoulders another tight squeeze 
before letting the sergeant pull away from him.

	"Don't give me that, 'sir'.  Lucky for me, most of the guys in the 
shacks are denser than you are.  Otherwise, my secret would been out long 
ago."  Eyes twinkling mischeivously, Sergeant Ukyou Kuonji swung her head 
back, her long brown hair flipping back over her shoulders.  Letting go of 
her old friend, she sat herself on her cot, and waved Ranma to the desk 
chair.

	Ranma just shook his head and sat down.  "Still keeping your hair 
long for 'medical reasons?'"

	Ukyou nodded.  "Yup.  Hey, getting a friendly doctor to sign for me 
was even easier once I was out of basic.  That was tough, you know.  After 
getting through that, I can get through anything."  She was interrupted by a 
knock at the door.  "Oh?  Is that your 'friend' from before?"  Still 
grinning, Ukyou tipped Ranma a wink, but turned her face away slightly.

	Ranma scowled and blushed at the same time.  "She's just an 
associate, geez.  I got her out of a bad spot recently, I'm getting her 
fitted in on the base.  No big deal."

	"Uh-huh, right."  Ukyou smiled knowingly, but still wouldn't look 
directly at him.  "Whatever, 'sir'."  Raising her voice, she called out.  
"Come on in, it's not locked!"

	Slowly, the door opened, and Akane's head peered around it.  Seeing 
Ranma, she brightened, and stepped further into the room.  "Um...Sergeant 
Kuonji?"

	Ukyou nodded, and waved Akane into the room.  "That's right!  Come on 
in, but close the door behind you please."  Ukyou waited while Akane did, 
then waved to the stop beside her on the bed.  "Have a seat!  And, we're 
never gonna get anywhere if you call me 'Sergeant Kuonji' all the time.  
Ukyou's my name."  She proferred her hand.

	Smiling, Akane took it.  "And I'm Akane."  Her smile left, replaced 
by a look of confusion as she studied the sergeant, looking particularly at 
her hair.  "Um..excuse me, but are you a...?"

	Ukyou grinned hugely.  "A woman?  You betcha!"  She leaned closer to 
Akane, a conspiratorial look crossing her face.  "I guess I can trust you not 
to let it out.  We gotta stick together, you know."  She winked at Akane, 
who, considerably more at ease, giggled back.

	"So, what's your story?" Ukyou continued, lying back on the bed, and 
swinging her legs up beside Akane.  She gestured to Akane's fatigues, 
mismatched and overused.  "You've obviously been there...how'd you get 
there?"

	Akane looked uncomfortable, until Ranma broke in.  "Uh, Ukyou, maybe 
now's not the best time...I mean, she's new here and all..."  Uncertainly, he 
looked at Akane.

	Ukyou also looked over at the girl, her face contrite.  "Oh, hey, 
sorry about that...yeah, I mean, if you don't want to say, that's alright, 
and all.  Just curious."  Still looking concerned, she looked over at Ranma.  
"So, uh..."

	Shaking her head, Akane broke in.  "N...no, that's alright.  I guess 
I can tell it to you."  She smiled at Ukyou.  "I promised Ranma I'd tell him 
sometime anyways, and, um, like you said, we've got to stick together, 
right?"  Looking downwards slightly, she missed the surprised blush that 
spread over Ranma's face, or the twinge of pain on Ukyou's.  "But you'll tell 
me yours too, right?"

	"Uh...sure, right!"  Ukyou swallowed, and nodded, regaining 
confidence.  "Sure thing!"  She grinned.  "Then Ranma can tell us any dark 
secret's he has....h-, hey!  What's with those looks?"  Ranma and Akane had 
both gone deep red and were looking at the floor.  Chewing her lip nervously, 
Ukyou tried to ignore the sweatdrop sliding down the back of her neck.  
"Uh...guys?"

	Ranma cleared his throat first.  "Ahem!  Um...er...Akane!  You were 
gonna tell us your, uh...story!  Yeah, that's right."  Ranma looked pointedly 
at the girl, who shook herself briefly, and nodded.

	"Yes, that's right.  Alright," she began, squirming to get a bit more 
comfortable.  "It started when I heard the news four years ago 
about...about Poland."  Ranma and Ukyou nodded in sympathy.  "I don't know
why...it just made me mad that we still weren't doing anything.  I was
only 15 at the time, but...I knew we should be doing more."

	"Then the Phony War came, and we still just sat there doing
nothing.  Oh, sure, every once in awhile we'd shoot down one of their
bombers, or they'd shoot at one of our ships, but it wasn't a _war_.  I
was still young, I guess...I didn't know what war really meant, but I
didn't understand why we had declared war on the Nazi's, and then we just
sat there waiting for them to attack us."

	"I knew that we weren't going to do enough to help France.  The 
forces we sent just weren't going to be enough.  But then the New Year
came, and nothing happened, and nothing happened, and still nothing happened...I 
was growing more and more frustrated."

	Akane leaned back against the wall.  "I went to the Army Headquarters 
in London to ask about joining the Women's Auxiliary Forces."  At this both 
Ranma and Ukyou blinked and nodded; she had finally said openly that she was 
from Britian.  She shook her head in disgust.  "They wouldn't take me because 
I was underage.  And when I saw what the WAF was doing, I knew that I
wouldn't be able to handle it. I didn't want to be a secretary, or a
radar-operator, behind the lines.  I wanted to fight."

	"When the invasion of France finally happened, everything boiled 
over.  I told my father and my sisters that I was going to fight the Germans.  
I would disguise myself as a boy to join up, and be shipped to France.  My 
father got very angry at me, but he didn't say anything.  When I went to sign 
up the next day, I discovered that the recruiters had been warned off."

	A look of pain crossed Akane's face.  "The next few days were...very 
hard.  When I went home, I wouldn't talk to anyone.  My sisters yelled at me, 
my father cried.  I knew I had to go fight...I was so wound up by that point 
that I even considered fighting for the Germans."

	Akane smiled a thin smile, grimly nostalgic.  "But France surrendered 
before I could think of anything to do.  But when De Gaulle spoke from 
London, and encouraged the French people to resist...that gave me the 
inspiration I needed."

	"I didn't speak to anyone at all that day...I stayed in my room, and 
threw a few things together.  Food...some rough clothes...boots.  Then I 
slept through the afternoon.  At night I crawled out my window and ran 
away.  Somehow...I got very lucky.  I stumbled into a group of men who were 
as angry as I was about our lack of action.  They accepted me as an equal, 
after I beat one of them in a fight.  We made plans, and, eventually, we were 
snuck into France, and left."

	Akane lifted her head up, looking proud.  "Of the seven us of who 
went, four were captured, two were killed, and one..."  She smiled.  "One was 
forced to temporarily flee the country.  But she's going back soon."  Her 
eyes flashed, hard as steel.

	A long silence filled the room, as Ranma and Ukyou tried to digest 
the Resistance leaders story.  Then the sergeant slowly leaned forwards, her 
face probing but concerned.  "Um...Akane..?"

	Akane turned her head, surprised, her hard look dropping into a 
guarded expression.  "Yes?" she asked hurriedly.

	Ukyou cleared her throat uncomfortably.  "You...you heard what 
happened to your...comrades."  She took a quick breath before continuing.  
"What about your family?"

	Akane's face stiffened up briefly, as emotions flickered just
beneath the surface.  Grief, exhaustion, and relief all fought for
expression, until the girl's eyes fell on Ranma.  Then they all subsided,
and a new look, one of cautious relief too their place.  "They...they're
all fine."

	Ranma blinked.  "You were able to write them?"

	Akane shook her head.  "No...my oldest sister is a nurse here."

	Ukyou bounced back from Akane, claping her hands together.  "Oh, 
Akane, that's wonderful!"  Beside the bed, Ranma nodded emphatically.

	"Yeah, that's really great!  You found out when you went to visit 
your man, and met her then, right?" Ranma asked.

	Akane nodded.  "Yes...she's well....  I was so relieved!"  The
emotion on her face spoke of the honesty of the feeling.

	Ranma nodded in satisfaction.  "See?  Everything's working out okay
after all.  She told you about the rest of your folks, right?"

	Akane's face dropped once again, reliefe fading into worry.  Ranma
sat upright again, his face reddening.  "Oh..uh, sorry.  You don't have to..."

	She interrupted him with a shake of her head.  "No...I'll tell you."  
She collected herself, forcing the tears back.  "My father is fine...he's 
working with the Special Forces.  My other sister...she also joined the 
service...and there hasn't been any word of her since."

	Ukyou leaned forwards to take Akane's hands between her own.  "Oh, 
I'm sorry...but, I'm sure she's alright...just like you are!"  She squeezed 
the other woman's hands.  "Missing is just missing.  She'll be found again."

	Akane looked at Ukyou gratefully.  "Thanks, Ukyou....that's what my 
sister said."  She took a couple of deep breaths, squeezing the
other girls hands tightly, gratefully as she did so.  Presently,
she relaxed, and a more natural smile came to her face.  "So...now it's
your turn." Can't have her asking about Ranma, she thought to herself.  He 
obviously doesn't want her to know.

	Ukyou ohed!  "You still want to hear that?"  She looked a bit 
uncomfortable.  "It's not nearly as exciting as yours...and it's all ancient 
history now anyways."

	Akane shook her head emphatically.  "No it's not!   And I don't care 
how boring it is...some normalcy in this would be nice."  She glaced at 
Ranma, but looked away before Ukyou could read anything in the gaze.  
"Besides, I want to know how the American's let a woman like you slip 
through."

	Ukyou blushed.  "Um...thank you," she mumbled, obviously unused to 
recieving such compliments.  "Well...I think to start with it was because I'm 
not an American citizen."

	"Eh?!"  Akane leaned forwards.  "But, then..." she pointed to the 
American fatigues the sergeant wore.  "Then how..."

	Ukyou grinned.  "Well, not really an American, anyways.  But my 
papers say I am, and they say that I'm a guy.  A friend of mine in Toronto, a 
lady named Habuki, is quite adept at making documents."

	"So you're Canadian?"  When Ukyou nodded, Akane looked confused.  
"But they've been in this as long as we have.  Why didn't you join them, or 
us?"

	With a shrug, Ukyou answered.  "I tried joining the Royal Canadian 
Regiment, because that was my father's regiment during the first war.  But I 
was clumsy, so I didn't even make it through the first interview before they 
knew I was both a girl, and really young.  This was in 39...I don't know what 
possesed me to think I could fool people when I was all of 14 years old."

	"So I waited, and I practised being a man, and about a year later I 
tried again.  But bad luck:  I ended up seeing the very same person who had 
found me out the first time.  So I was on the street again.  This was 3 years 
ago, August 1940."

	She grinned at Akane.  "As you know doubt heard then or later, you 
guys were getting your butts kicked all over the map.  Now Canada was really 
out for me, and it didn't look like you guys were gonna be in it for very 
much longer.  And this was when I heard about Miss Habuki."

	"I had a feeling America was going to have to get into things sooner 
or later, so I started working in that direction.  I left my fathers home in 
Kitchener to move to Toronto, where I worked in a restaurant.  Sometimes we'd 
see Canadian soldiers on leave, or just leaving for the front, and I picked 
up some tips from them."

	"For instance," and Ukyou held up a thick sheaf of her hair.  "One 
thing that had bothered me was that I was going to have to get my hair cut 
when I joined the military.  But then one day a Canadian soldier just 
happened to mention that the Army wasn't totally inflexible...there were 
always excuses, usually medical ones.  I pushed him a bit, and he told me 
that there might be a medical reason for having long hair.  You just had to 
find the right doctor."

	"And I had finally met Miss Habuki in person.  She was sympathetic to 
me, but wasn't sure I would be able to pass myself off as a man in the 
American Army.  Also, since the United States hadn't formally declared any 
war at that time, it wasn't as easy to get into their army as it could have 
been.  So she advised me to wait, but she did agree to start the work so I 
could get in as quickly as possible."

	"When Pearl Harbour came, I had just moved to Buffalo, just across 
the border.  Miss Habuki hadn't expected the United States to get involved 
for another month, at least, so the Japanese pushed my schedule up a bit.  
But it also made it easier for me to get accepted into service.  Because so 
many volunteers signed up after December 7th, I had to wait over a month 
before I finally was assigned to basic training."

	Ukyou smiled at Ranma.  "In my company, my bunkmate was a boy named 
Ryouga Hibiki, and right across the aisle was another boy named Ranma 
Saotome."  Ranma flushed a bright red as this part of the story came 
forwards.  "There was a lot of tension in the barracks for the first week...
not surprising, when you bring a lot of young men from all over the country, 
and put them into one small building together.  There's friction at first.  
After the first couple fights, Ranma, Ryouga and I were only ones left 
standing, cause we're all martial artists.  So we stuck together.  We helped 
each other through.  Well, actually, they helped me more than I helped them.  
Cause I couldn't keep it a secret from my best friends that I wasn't...um, 
like them."  She grinned hugely as Ranma flushed.  "And since I was going to 
need help anyways, I told them pretty quick.  They helped hide me from the 
rest of the company."

	Ukyou gave Ranma a long, searching look.  "I wouldn't have made it 
without you...both of you," she added after a moment's hesitation.

	Ranma shifted akwardly.  "Aw, c'mon, Ukyou...it wasn't like we could 
leave you to be found out or nothin'...we just had to do it for you."

	Ukyou smiled, and, reaching out, now took Ranma's hand in hers, 
squeezing it.  "Liar," she said softly, letting his hand go, but removing 
hers reluctantly, as if not wanting to lose the contact with him.

	Ranma turned an even brighter shade of red, and squirmed away 
uncomfortably.  "Um...yeah."  He cleared his throat, trying not to look at 
Ukyou, or Akane, who was studying the two of them with a peculiar look on her 
face.  He scowled mentally.  What was with her, anyways?  She looked like she 
was jealous or scared or something.  He cleared his throat a second time, 
trying to force uncomfortable thoughts away.  "So, um...what happened, 
anyways?  Weren't you supposed to be going to the Pacific?"

	Ukyou nodded, looking slightly relieved herself that the moment had 
ended.  "I was, but assignments change.  The Pentagon decided that we didn't 
need anymore troops in the Pacific while we were still trying to stop the 
Japanese from advancing, so instead they assigned me to the North African 
front."

	She smiled.  "Ryouga and I were on the same landing, did you know 
that?"  When Ranma shook his head, she nodded.  "He was in his tank, of 
course, about a mile up the line."  Her smile darkened.  "But his battle went 
a bit better than mine."  Without another word, Ukyou lifted her fatigue 
blouse up to reveal the scars on the bottom of her ribcage.

	Ranma and Akane winced, but merely nodded.  They had seen too many 
similar scars to react with horror at the idea.  Ukyou answered with a 
similar nod, and lowered her top again.  "After the field surgery, I was 
sent here to recover fully."  She smiled.  "They missed anything really 
vital, so I'm all better now.  But, someone decided that I'd done such a good 
job here, they might as well keep me.  So they promoted me to Sergeant, and 
gave me my own squad of security."

	She leaned back on the bed.  "And I can't complain.  I used to think 
that I wasn't doing my part, but now..." she gestured outside.  "I'm 
responsible for all this brass.  It might not be as hazardous as France, but 
it has to be done, and I'm good at it."  She grinned.  "I dunno, maybe it's 
even an honor.  Most of the security people here are rehabs like I was, but 
they get sent back to the front eventually.  Brigadier Shiratori herself 
asked to keep me here, so I don't think it's cause I didn't do well enough in 
Africa."

	Ranma shook his head emphatically.  "I can't believe you'd even think 
that, Ukyou!  You were top of our class, remember?"

	Ukyou grinned, and poked Ranma.  "Or I woulda been, if a certain 
someone hadn't had to show off by going off and 'killing' the entire enemy 
command staff single-handedly during our training exercise."  She shook her 
head in mock-disgust.  "Damn SpecOps officer-wannabes.  Always gotta go off 
and do something dumb just to give their respectable Sergeants heart 
attacks."

	With that, all three broke into laughter.  "You sure you don't want 
to come back, Ukyou?" Akane asked, a teasing smile on her face.  "All of my 
comrades seem to be infected with the same hero complex that Monseiur 
American has."

	Ukyou shook herhead comfortable at the Resistance leader.  "No 
thanks, ma'am.  I'm not the sneaky type.  I like to stand up and fight."

	"After all you did to fool the Americans, you say you're not sneaky?"  
Both Ranma and Akane broke up again over this, while Ukyou looked on in mock 
anger.  "You should have joined Intelligence, and been a spy instead."  
Akane's voice went strangely flat at the end of this tease; the other two 
looked at each other, and nodded.

	"So, that's my story," Ukyou said cheerfully, to bouy Akane's 
spirits.  "Now, I think there's one more we need to hear..."

	Ranma gulped.  "Me?  But I don't have anythign to tell."

	Ukyou shook her head.  "Try again, Ranma.  I know you better than 
that.  I saw how you and Akane looked at each other back there."  Her voice 
sounded strange to herself, but neither Ranma nor Akane seemed to notice.  
"So, there's at least a story in that, isn't there?"

	Akane suddenly spoke up.  "I think you should tell her, Ranma."  When 
Ranma looked up in surprise, and then resignation as he saw the look on her 
face.  Slowly, he nodded.  "The whole story."

	The whole story, beginning with Ranma's experience in China, to his
arrival on Kitty Field only days earlier with Akane took the young
Lieutenant two hours to recount.  Through it, both Ukyou and Akane payed
attention, although less than either showed Ranma.  For her part, Akane had
heard it before, so she spent most of her attention studying Ukyou.  She
wasn't completely sure yet, but they way she had touched his hand
earlier...she didn't think it was simple gratitude for helping her get into
the army.

	Ukyou, on the other hand, paid Ranma close attention, her eyes
widening at the story of Chyuuchyaunshyuan, and his female curse.  But as
the story moved to France and England, she stopped thinking about that, and
concentrated on the way Ranma talked about Akane.

	What she saw was definiately disturbing.  Ukyou was a very
perceptive girl...she had used this skill many times throughout her career
to divert officers who might be getting a little too close to her secret,
and to figure out whom she could trust with it.  There hadn't been many of
those...Ranma and Ryouga, the base surgeon, and a staff nurse by the name
of Unryuu...those were all she had ever let know about it.  What her sense
were telling he now was that Ranma was obviously a good deal more concerned
about the Resistance girl that even he knew.

	Akane's feelings were somewhat harder to decipher, but Ukyou
thought they might be similar to Ranma's...and, her own.  She was sure
Akane must know that by now, the way she had been falling all over him in
thanks for his aid during basic.  It hasn't meant to come out like that,
but...she hadn't been able to help herself.  Ranma and Ryouga had been her
two dearest friends there...anywhere, she admitted to herself.  And while
Ryouga was every bit as strong, handsome, and in his own way _nice_ and
Ranma, she couldn't think of him...that way.  Her breath had never caught
when she saw him, her heart had never skipped a beat when she heard his
voice.

	When the group had broke up at the end of basic, Ukyou had tried to
put it, and her femininity, behind her, and she had succeeded.  At times,
she almost surprised herself by still physically _being_ a woman.  Until
today, when she had looked up, right into his blue eyes....

	A sudden silence filled the room.  Startled, Ukyou shook herself
out of her own thoughts, and sat back, looking stunned and thoughtful.
"That's...quite a story, sir," she said, her voice having no trace of
sarcasm in it now.

	Ranma nodded, looking downcast.  "Yeah.  It won't be too long now
before everyone on the base knows it either.  I mean, even the _Russians_
know."  Probably more than he knew himself, Ranma thought to himself.  "But
what I said's exactly how it is, so don't believe no funny stuff you hear."
Ranma scowled at the sergeant.

	Ukyou put a hand to her chest, mocking offense.  "Moi?" she began,
then flashed a guilty look at Akane, who just grinned.  "Would _I_ ever
believe such horrid things about you, Ranma?"

	Ranma's scowl didn't let up.  "I just don't want any more
cross-dressing rumors spreading around base, y'hear?"

	Ukyou sat forwards.  "That was Hiroshi and Daisuke, not me!  I'd
never start a rumor like that!  Sheesh." she protested.  Then she grinned
cockily.  "But don't worry sir.  I hear any rumors in here, I'll quash 'em
for you."

	Finally, Ranma relaxed.  "Thanks, Ukyou.  I knew I could count on
you."  He looked down at his watch.  "Aw, geez!" he exclaimed.  "2000
already?"  He sighed.  "SpecOps has a curfew on already.  Gotta be well
rested, we go in again in a couple days."  He turned to Akane.  "Hey, you
need a guide back to your place still?" he asked innocently.

	Startled, Akane shook her head.  "Er, no, that's alright.  I'll
find my way back by myself."  She smiled.  "Sleep well, Monsieur
American...you need it."  She waved at the tongue Ranma stuck out at her as
he walked out the door.

	Ukyou watched the exchange silently, waiting until the American was
out the door and down the hall.  Gathering herself, she opened her mouth,
only to hear her own question being asked at her.

	"Do you love him?"

	Surprised, she blurted, "Yes."

	Akane's shoulders slumped over.  "I knew it...."  Ukyou stayed
quiet...how own suspicious confirmed, she felt akward, not knowing what to
say to her new rival; her glibness for once, defeated.

	Akane sat there for several long moments, then she straightened her
back, and smiled over her shoulder at the sergeant.  "Well, okay.  But we
still have to stick together, right?"  She winked.

	Shocked, Ukyou's mouth hung open for an instant, before her wits
returned with her usual grin.  "You bet!  C'mon!  I'll show you where we
can start!"  Grabbing her cap in one hand, and the other girls arm by the
wrist in the other, she pulled Akane out of the room, and ran off down the
hall, laughing.

Kitty Field, two weeks later

	As the suns rays broke out over the airfield, Ranma slowly roused 
himself from bed.  This was it, he thought glumly to himself.  Today was the 
last day on the base.  Tomorrow, he'd be back in the field.

	Stretching, he started to change into a light shirt and sweatpants 
for his morning run.  Working out the kinks in his body, and listening to the 
low pops of his joints, he smiled unconciously.  It certainly had been a more 
enjoyable two weeks than he'd ever had before.  Finding Ukyou again, after 
almost two years...that had been too good to be true.  With Ryouga, the trio 
had been tight and now, with Akane instead of Ryouga...

	Ranma paused at the thought of Akane.  It wasn't quite the same 
though, was it?  While he felt natural arund Akane, he also felt something 
more than he had around Ryouga or Ukyou.  There was just something...more, 
about being with her.  Heading out his door, he realized something else.  
Ukyou seemed to be a bit more hesitant whenever Akane was around.  Turning 
the corner, and breaking into a light run, Ranma shrugged to himself. Ukyou 
had always been a bit self-concious.  Maybe she still wasn't quite used to 
being around a woman who had gone through many of the same experiences she 
had.

	Dismissing that, Ranma's thought moved back to Akane as he ran.  She 
_was_ fun  to be around, when she wasn't being so edgy.  He didn't understand 
that...she could get so defensive at times!  Especially whenever Shampoo 
found him...it wasn't like they were dating or anything!  And, well, what did 
it matter to Akane, anyways?  It's not like _she_ would be interested in him.

	He scowled.  Uncute tomboy...all that living in the bush must have 
warped her mind.  She had probably been a very sweet girl, living with her 
sisters before the war came.  Probably had been kind, maybe even cute.  
Now...definitly uncute! he told himself, ignoring the laughter than came from 
the rest of his mind.  No way he could really like her.  Not at all.  She was 
good as a colleague, that was all.

	Unnoticed, Ranma's pace picked up.  His feet started pounding into 
the packed dirt of the airfield perimeter harder, kicking up more noticable 
clouds of dust.  His arms swung more freely, muscles clentched tightly.  His 
face turned redder and more flushed, his breathing picked up.  Fire burned in 
his eyes now.  No way he could like that ugly tomboy!  No way!  Absolutely 
NOT in lo--

	With a yell, Ranma fell over, landing heavily in the dirt.  Great, 
just what he needed...even more to mess up his morning.  What a lousy run 
this had turned out to be.  Cursing to himself under his breath, he picked 
himself up on his knees, and looked behind him to see what he had stumbled 
over.  There, looking back at him with a look of perfect wounded dignity, 
was the mascot of the Kitty Karrier.

	Ranma's eyes went wide, and his whole body locked up.  A cold sweat 
broke out over his body. Trembling, he watched in an ecstasy of terror as the 
tiny pink kitten picked itself up, and licked some dust off of its paws.  
Then, with an evil glint in its light-red eyes, the cat took a menacing step 
forwards.

	"NOOOOO!!!!!!"  His paralysis broken, Ranma leaped to his feet, and 
fled, running headlong for the base, a huge dust trail in his wake.  Watching 
him with a look of satisfaction, the cat sat down, and began to clean herself 
properly.

	Almost two hours later, Ranma was calm again, in a relative sense.  
He was still trembling slightly, and jumping at shadows, but that was okay.  
His men had already seen him, and given each other knowning winks, carefully 
out of the sight of the American and their British officer.  The Lieutenant 
had scrambled through the barracks just after revielle, bolting all the doors 
in the barracks shut, and cowering in his bedroom.  It had taken two calls 
for mess hall to lure him out, and even then he just wasn't right until after 
he had had a shower and not seen a cat for a few hours.  Finally, the British 
captain had decided he was ready, and took Ranma to their briefing for the 
next day's mission.

	Coughing gruffly, the day's briefing officer laid out the maps for the 
two junior officers.  "Alright men, tomorrow's mission should be a milk run.  
It's a two-stage mission, alright?"  When both officers nodded understanding, 
the Colonel continued.

	"Right then.  First, you'll be taken by the aircraft to Grid 32 68, 
near the Belgian border.  From here, you'll move southeast, ten kilometers to 
here."  The Colonel pointed to a small black square on the map.  "This mark 
represents a chateaux, a fairly old retreat for the French gentry.  With the 
occupation, the Nazis have been using it as a base of operations."

	The Captain sat forwards.  "What, you're asking us to scope it out 
then?  Have a bit of a look-see?"

	The Colonel shook his head.  "No, you're going to blow it up."

	Ranma leaned forwards.  "Excuse me sir, but taking out a German 
command center...that's--" he stopped as the Colonel raised his hand to stop 
further protest.

	"Yes, yes, I am aware that normally a single SpecOps group would be 
unable to deal with a target of this magnitude.  Which is why we're sending 
you in with another group."

	Ranma looked relived.  "Which group sir?  I heard rumors that the 
Greek 23rd Squadron was being stationed here.  I hear those Psi Corp guys 
are good."

	The colnel shook his head.  "No, no, it's not the Greeks.  It's a 
group recently arrived on base...let me see, you may have run into some of 
them.  Where was that sheet..."  The Colonel rummaged around on his desk
for a few moments.  "Ah yes, here we are.  The French Resistance cell that was 
recused a few weeks earlier.  They're going to be our aid."  The Colonel 
looked up over the sheaf of paper to look at the two officers.  "Is there 
something wrong, gentlemen?"

	The Captain was the first to recover.  "S...sir!  You can't send 
them!  They're just back from a year of extended operations!  They're 
exhausted!  It'll be another month before they're ready..."

	The Colonel broke in brusquely, "I don't see why their members 
couldn't be considerd fit for duty!  The French Resistance groups operate the 
same way we ourselves do, with a period of intensive actions followed by 
extended leave periods!  The only difference is that this leave for that 
group has been rather nicer than most."

	"Which is exactly why they're not ready to go back," the Captain 
replied.  "The reason they're even here is because they got too tired _there_ 
and were ambushed!  If we send them back now they'll be captured in a month!"

	"Nevertheless," the Colonel answered testily, "we can't keep them 
_here_.  Our resources are being strained to the limits as it is, supporting 
the Second Front in Africa and those bloody American's and their bombers."  
Saying this, he looked directly at Ranma.  "We have to send them back!"

	Ranma said quietly, "No."

	Turning in surprise, the Colonel turned his attack from the British 
Captain to Ranma.  "What do yo mean, no?!"

	More firmly, Ranma responsded.  "No.  I won't let them on this 
mission."

	While the Captain watched in surprise, the Colonel's color slowly 
started to go red.  "What do you mean, 'I won't let them'?!  You don't have a 
bloody choice!"

	Ranma's lifted his head, staring into the Colonel's eyes.  "What the 
Captain said is right, _sir_.  Aka...I mean, Tendo's cell is not fit to 
return to active duty.  Our men can perform this mission alone, _sir_."

	The Colonel settled back into his seat.  "So, that is your final word 
then, _Lieutenant_ Saotome?"

	Ranma nodded firmly.  "Yes sir, it is."

	The Colonel nodded.  "And you're _quite_ satisfied that a small group 
of men, such as yourself, cold pull it off?"

	Ranma hesitated, but finally nodded.  "Yes sir.  Our team can do it 
sir."

	Again, the Colonel nodded.  "Yes then, that's quite alright.  
Captain, you and your second in command are dismissed.  I'll see you both in 
here at 0900 tomorrow to discuss your new mission plans."

	The Captain and Ranma stood, and automatically saluted, before the 
Captain paused.  "Sir?  'New mission'?"

	The Colonel nodded.  "Yes.  Since _Lieutenant_ Saotome here does not 
feel your current mission is acceptable..."

	Ranma broke in hotly.  "Hold on a minute!  I never said that it 
wasn't acceptable, just that Akane...I mean, Tendo's cell can't be included 
on it!!"

	Blithely ignoring Ranma, the Colonel continued on.  "...so, I will 
remove your team from tomorrow's flight!"

	As the American seethed quietly beside him, the Captain's eyes 
narrowed.  "Then...tomorrows mission will go..with the French then?"

	The Colonel nodded, his eyes flashing coldly.  "Yes.  They will go 
and handle the mission...alone."

	Ranma looked up, his eyes burning.  "You...bastard..." he breathed 
heavily.

	Smiling innocently through lifeless eyes, the Colonel just nodded.  
"Now, Mr.Saotome...I understand you might wish to change your objections?"  
With a sweep of his hand, he gestured to the chairs in from of the table.  
"Now, if you'd take your seats, we can resume the briefing..."
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Aaack.  Isn't it funny what a little calamity can do to your life?  I
actaully have a valid excuse for once why this part is late, too.  ^_^
Basically, it started with my primary server, where I store my archives,
and where I post from (elycion) was hacked, and taken offline for about 3
weeks.  During that three weeks, i managed to annihilate my Windows
installation, and have to wipe the directory...but, because I did it at
some stupid hour of the night, I wiped out all of the fics I was working on
at the time.  Fall of the Eagle 9, Future Chronicles, Ranma Plus, and
Rumble in Kyoto were all wiped out, along with a Tenchi fanfic I had
recently started work on again.  So...

But I've got Windows reinstalled, got my account back, and still haven't
been able to do any writing, because of a full-time job.  :P  So my
normally slow rate of production has been slowed down even more, and I
can't promise that it'll acelerate.  What I do promise is that you won't
have to wait another year to see the end of Fall of the Eagle...there's
only 5-6 more parts to go, and we're out of this.  So any loyal fans I
have, keep your fingers crossed.  I won't let this one go into 98. ;>

Till then, peace, love, Happy Holidays, and all that hippie bullshit.  ^_-


--
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James Stone - stoner@elycion.geology.ualberta.ca
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http://elycion.geology.ualberta.ca/~stoner
http://elycion.geology.ualberta.ca/~stoner/amuck/amuck.html
http://elycion.geology.ualberta.ca/~stoner/fotw/flags
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Akane@Anime, Ukyou@Ranma, Stoner@Baka, Nabiki@Furtoonia, Geobaldi@Furry,
Mendo@AMUSH, Kylania@Delusions, Mousse@Avalon, Nanami@Fiction,
Noa@DahlingMUCK, Baradagi@ElseMUCK, Miki@ShojoMUCK, Karin@PikuMUCK
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http://elycion.geology.ualberta.ca/~stoner/ficpage/ficpage.html