Nexus II

by Black Dragon6

Death and chaos have been sown throughout the Eastern world. Guess who's job it is to clean up?

12. The Sandship Epsilon

Species: Yainemethorous Chitegan
Common name: Juga
Class: Demon
Subspecies: None. A complete immunity to radiation over the reproductive lifespan has led to extremely low rates of mutation, and the asexual reproductive method of the species doesn't allow cross-breeding or selective mating. In effect, jugas are unaffected by evolutionary forces as we understand them.
Sentience & Intelligence: Fairly intelligent. Jugas are capable of communication (limited by their unusual vocal chords) and planning, and even show decent mathematical and scientific capability. However, juga are typically very slow and ponderous, and generally yield quickly to the decisions of others.
Physical biology: Although juga possess the same limb structure as a human, nearly all similarities end there. Juga do not breathe gases, and thus do not have lungs. The juga circulatory system is composed of sacs of "blood" that absorb energy to feed the surrounding cells; thus, juga have no hearts. Even their central nervous system was created through an entirely different evolutionary ladder (putting aside the fact for a moment that they defy evolutionary theory), and form a web of thickly packed, fibrous nerve clusters within the skull. The most obvious biological difference is in the exoskeleton (rated in terms of average protective quality to be on par with common tank armor), which is fused with the simplified, disjointed internal skeleton to aid movement without sacrificing protection. This exoskeleton is heavily ridged, with blade-like protrusions covering the various joints, and tends from a pale gray to charcoal black in color, depending on the particular diet of the juga.
Mana resonance: Very low. Juga magi of any type are completely unheard of. It's unknown whether the mechanism for absorbing radiation is connected with the jugas' unusually low resonance; it's clear that radiation has a relationship with mana, but our studies concerning the interaction of those natural and magical forces are years, if not decades, from conclusive results.
Lifespan: Around 300 years. Juga expire soon after the halon organ fails, as its body continues to attract various energies without any way to safely dispose of them.
Diet: Lithovorous. Jugas' digestive tracts are made to break down minerals straight from the source: rocks and dirt. Animal and plant matter is instantly incinerated within a juga's body, and the useful materials are discarded in a lump of useless carbon compounds. Proteins are manufactured entirely from their base elements within the digestive system, resulting in a relatively slow regeneration rate (comparable to other demons and demonkin).
Biological anomalies: Juga possess an organ called the halon organ, which is a large liver-shaped organ that would barely fit in a human's ribcage. This organ contains flexible webs of crystals which, when combined with the ichor filling the halon and the strange skin that protects the organ, is capable of absorbing numerous harmful energies and ejecting them out beneath the juga's dorsal spines without allowing contamination of the rest of the body. The primary energies of concern are heat and radiation; radiation in the alpha, beta, and gamma range are all attracted to the juga's exoskeleton, which emits an electromagnetic field from a separate organ, the impus cell. These energies enter the juga and are funneled, via means unknown, to the halon organ, which ejects the energy via several "waste veins" to ventilation pits beneath the dorsal spines. The same occurs with heat, although much of the energy is absorbed by the rest of the body while the excess heat (and thusfar it seems that no amount of heat can overcome this anomaly, including that created by nuclear reactions) is passed the same way. As an interesting note, on some occasions of heavy combat the heat from explosions and spells have caused "heat tunnels" to erupt behind enemy jugas, who are almost always on the front lines shielding the more vulnerable soldiers, and blast the less tolerant creatures behind them with more heat than they could withstand. It should be noted that while the halon organ can tolerate supposedly any level of excess heat, it has no way of regulating heat loss; although cold magic or weaponry will have to work through the juga's impressive internal temperature, they are effective.
Reproductive type: Asexual. Jugas produce pre-fertilized (though the term means nothing in the context of their biology) eggs approximately every four or five years, usually in a pair. Jugas reach reproductive maturity around 25 years of age and typically experience their equivalent of menopause around age 200.
Social structure: None. Juga have very little reason to stick together, and are famously inept at most domestic crafts due to their being very, very different from most beings, and having only their large, cumbersome claws to manipulate tools. As juga do not even raise their own young (unless compelled by others to do so) and do not mate, they usually feel no closer to their own kind than to any other given species. To this end, jugas are almost exclusively mercenary warrior monsters, as their strength and incredibly strong armor makes them invaluable vanguard soldiers, especially once the demonic armies found that their main concern in Earth Realm was deflecting bullets.
Combat analysis: High. Juga are about as strong as one might guess from looking, and roughly ten times as tough as one might guess during the same look. Juga shells are extremely strong, but tend to yield to magical forces; without mithril-tipped munitions, the only way to kill a juga is large-bore depleted uranium shells or direct explosive blasts, usually via artillery or bombing strikes. Being battered by great kinetic force rarely does more than crack the carapace, but the internals of the juga are eventually shaken to the point that the various organs tear open and the creature dies of internal bleeding.
Misc. notes: Juga are seen in much higher ratios among demonic armies in Earth realm as opposed to others, due to the demons' need to find soldiers capable of warding off gunfire. Though mithril-tipped bullets now allow regular soldiers to take down jugas with small arms fire (and a little luck), they remain as one of the more effective "battle beasts" usually encountered among enemy warbands. Jugas should therefore be fought carefully, or not at all; as a species, they are not particularly malicious or sadistic, and some are willing to fight alongside "good" forces for the same mercenary fee as they would charge darker masters.

US Research Division Omega - Survey File D711

Nexus II
by Black Dragon the end of the semester! At last! FREEDOM! For... about a month... yay...
I'd like to apologize in advance for all the sappy emotional crap I ended up writing in-between the refreshingly common descriptions of infantile comedy, gratuitous fanservice, and pointless violence. Sorry 'bout that. Chapter 12
The Sandship Epsilon

"Commander, report. What's the status on the combat dispatch?"
Next to the railing along the side of the massive hovercraft that was the Messiah, a tall, almost regal-looking woman stood looking out over the seemingly endless trenches of ash that made up the IEF's current base site. The woman was clearly an officer, and apparently a general, judging by the stars on her tasseled shoulder pads that were attached to a brilliant silver cape that hung around her. Other than that though, it would have been hard to tell, as she wore the same kind of sorceress' leotard that all the female magi soldiers of the IEF wore, though hers was a pearly white color rather than a camouflage pattern.
Her hair was a long waterfall of almost ethereal silver, and gave the woman a seemingly divine appearance that was complimented by her tanned, golden skin; a shade not unattractive, but strangely alien.
Many who met June Kitinski initially assumed she wasn't human. They were wrong. At least, they were wrong so long as they weren't religious or pacifist fanatics who considered her status as a magical super-soldier as making her some kind of monster. She was well-traveled and familiar with political circles, so she had met her fair share of both.
At the moment the general and CO of the Israeli Expeditionary Force was staring at a construction machine her forces usually used for digging trenches and excavating. Right now it was using its considerable power to drag a transport - unfortunately designed to operate without wheels of any sort - through the dust and ash toward the Messiah.
The man behind her cleared his throat. "The unit commanders report eighteen dead, twenty wounded. Captain Haritzki is amongst the wounded; impaled through the leg. He has requested honors be distributed to his men for what he views as 'heroism and excellence on the field' when they saved his life."
General Kitinski snorted, but nodded. "See to it. Then find out the exact details of the ambush they ran into and report it to me. Haritzki's men may have saved his life, but his orders couldn't save his men. His actions may call for demotion." She hesitated. "Get a recommendation from Colonel Molsk, too. How was her battle performance?"
"Exemplary results, as always. Some of the other officers question her methods, but none in her retinue was harmed during combat, and she has personally claimed thirty-six kills this mission. It should also be noted that she was quick to adapt to the change in orders and made peaceful contact with the third party found attacking the raiders."
"I see. And what can you tell me about the third party?" June asked with a slight, professional curiosity in her voice.
"Small 'adventuring' type of group. There's three of them, plus a small familiar or something that caused the transport breakdown. One human, one evon, and one demon. Supposedly they didn't suffer any losses when making the sneak attack on the raider camp, so it must be assumed that they're relatively powerful. I would assume they're mercenaries, though you'll have to question them or Colonel Molsk to get the details."
"Fine." She glanced behind her at the commander. "Begin making funeral arrangements for the fallen, and send out a scavenger to pick up the wreck of the Vulture we lost. Medium security detail." She turned sharply and headed for the lower decks, her cape billowing out behind her from the movement.

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Ranma was impressed. Very impressed.
Which wasn't really saying that much; Ranma had grown up in the wilderness even before he had been orphaned, living life without even the most common modern conveniences. Though he had served in some battles of the Death March, even then he hadn't seen many of the more impressive combat mecha and tanks.
Such as it was, Ranma found examples of advanced technology simply breathtaking. Lasers, missiles, and ion engines all fascinated him utterly, although he never did have the patience to learn much about how they worked.
Magic he found less impressive, as he had seen much more of that during his days spent surviving the attrition of demonic armies. He also considered the magical arts to be a series of effortless and simple tricks, creating something from nothing with a few unintelligible words and wave of the hands (he was wrong, and suspected as much, but no one had bothered to correct him). Technology, however, had to be made from the ground up from forces and materials as real and stable as the ground he stood on. The fact that technology was primarily the product of his home realm, as well as his own status as being magically invalid might have had something to do with it as well.
So currently he was gaping at the lower transport bay within the Messiah, taking in the sight of numerous repair bays full of thick bundles of wires, sparking electric fields, and gigantic robotic arms that clamped onto the side of the damaged transport they had arrived on and dragged it into a pit with dozens of smaller arms that got to work tearing apart the damaged components. It was a marvel of automation, and really one of the less advanced and relevant examples of machinery aboard the vast hovercraft.
If Ranma was impressed, then Kaze was floored. As a person of more intellectual pursuits by nature, being surrounded by armored tanks floating on anti-gravity thrusters and watching the huge automated welders and clamps in action was like Christmas (not that he had ever heard of the holiday).
Rayden didn't really care, and was on his fourth bottle of brandy. He also had K gripped tightly in his free hand by the neck, which was the least painful and permanent method of restraining the troublemaking dragon that anyone was willing to accept (Rayden had actually defended K on this issue; he was the only one who found being wrecked due to an eaten engine block funny).

"I understand," Karen mumbled as she regarded a petty officer near the repair bay. "I'll take full responsibility for the damage, as I'm personally endorsing this party. Please ensure that I'm not selected for the security detail on the Vulture."
The man nodded and saluted before leaving, and Karen turned expectantly toward her guests. Ranma and Kaze wore expressions typical of those visiting the Messiah for the first time, while the dark paladin was bored and approaching a good buzz. She brushed off the attitude; she never did really understand demons, despite being rather close friends with several.
"Come, come, we can't leave you people gawking here in the loading bay," the colonel said in an amused tone of voice. "Garron, I'm assigning you to the security detail escorting the scavenger unit. Meet with Commander Givotz and see to it. Teema, Yun, you two have been requested again for guard duty on the main armory." Finally, she turned to Emrey, who was looking quite irritated and staring at the floor. "Leiutenant Emrey, make sleeping arrangements for our guests, would you?"
The rakshasa glanced up at her, snuck a venomous glare toward the oblivious adventurers, and then nodded. "Yes Colonel. I'll see to it." He saluted properly and then scurried off behind the rest of Karen's retinue as they left to their assigned tasks.
Karen smirked. She suspected Emrey would try something stupid like get Ranma housed in the storeroom or hide tacks in his bed, but it didn't matter. If she had anything to say about it, Ranma wouldn't be spending the night in his room.
She quickly sobered to fight off a blush. It wasn't like her to take someone in and practically drag them into her bed like she was doing (not that she ever had to), but Ranma was a very special case.
"So! Why don't I give you a tour of the ship?" Karen said brightly. Now that all her close associates were gone, all that was left was to ditch the maniac in the trench coat and the perverted evon.
"Why don't you give me your report first?" Came a voice from behind her.

Karen flinched slightly from the surprise, but otherwise retained a perfectly neutral expression as she turned and saluted the silver-haired general. "General Kitinski. You've come to debrief me personally?"
June nodded, not taking her eyes off the other sorceress to examine the newcomers. "I've heard most of the important details. What of this third party that was found attacking the raiders?"
Karen stepped to the side and gestured to the men, obviously indicating that introductions should be made.
The general kept her eyes locked on her subordinate. "I asked you a question, Colonel. Who are they, what were they doing at the combat site, and why are they here now?"
Ranma shot Rayden a warning glance as he saw the larger man clench his fists angrily (much to K's relief, who could barely manage a choked gasp with his neck held so tightly).
Rayden reluctantly relaxed. He had little appreciation for the entitlements of status and rank, and found it irritating that this new woman wouldn't speak to them directly, as if they were beneath her notice.
Kaze didn't question the general's actions, used to the various grating mannerisms of those in high station. Also, he was busy discreetly comparing the sorceress's bodies.
"Of course, General," Karen said with some hesitation. "They're a band of mercenaries who stumbled upon the raiders while attempting to travel north. This is Ranma Saotome, their leader," she beckoned to Ranma, and June finally gave the newcomers a good look. Her expression immediately darkened when falling upon Ranma, to which the young man only managed a surprised blink. "This is Kaze Toren, a representative of the Order of Malakai," she pointed to Kaze, who bowed respectfully. "And this is Rayden Shikodan, a representative of the Third Brotherhood of the Dark Cults. The metal dragon in his hand is called K; he's the one responsible for the breakdown of our transport en route."
Karen expected surprise or consternation at the mention of Rayden's affiliation, but to her confusion, the IEF general was still staring at Ranma. She wouldn't have found this surprising (and would have found it irritating), except that the general's expression wasn't one of lust, admiration, or even casual interest. Instead, June Kitinski looked... annoyed.
"Ranma Saotome..." June mumbled, her eye twitching. "It's been a long time."
Ranma frowned and scratched his head, squinting at the exotic-looking woman. Then he brightened and snapped his fingers. "OH! I remember you! You're June! How ya doing?"
The general's eye twitched. "I'm flattered you remember me. I was only your commanding officer on, what, seven missions? And this was only two years ago."
"Somethin' like that," the wanderer answered flippantly. "And cut me some slack. You look pretty different since then. What'd you do to your hair, anyway? Did you bleach it or turn it into metal or something?"
June began to simmer, and Karen quickly scooted up next to Ranma in a panic. "Ranma! What are you doing?" She hissed. June Kitinski wasn't a woman to piss off on the best of days. Besides being the single most powerful magi in the employ of Israel, she also happened to command an entire army of high-tech soldiers and weapons if she didn't feel like putting forth the effort to destroy something herself. Ranma could be put to death right then and there, and the only repercussions for General Kitinski would be some paperwork.
Ranma waved off his friend. "So you're a general now, eh? Done pretty well for yourself?"
"Yes. Yes, I'd say I have," June said through clenched teeth. "And you... are still a common mercenary I see. Though you at least have lackeys now."
"Yeah, I've done alright," Ranma said conversationally, either not noticing or not indulging her attitude. "So, June! Do you run this ship? It looks nice!"
Before June could continue shooting heated barbs at Ranma so that he could continue ignoring them (Karen had seen this event played out before, though never with the general), the sandy-haired woman interrupted. "Ranma, how do you know the general?" 'PLEASE don't tell me they slept together and she's upset about him leaving...'
Said general was the one to answer. "Ranma Saotome is a well-regarded mercenary infiltrator," she began, "and participated in several raids with my commando squadron."
Ranma nodded while smiling. "Yup. You were a captain then, though."
"Okaaaay..." Karen drawled. While she was greatly relieved that their relationship was entirely professional (at least on the surface), it didn't explain why her superior seemed to find Ranma's presence intolerable or why Ranma didn't reciprocate those feelings to any degree.
Apparently, June didn't intend for her to find out. "So Saotome, what WERE you doing in the raider camp, and why are you here now?"
"Eh, we were just passing through, saw the bandits, and figured we could do some good and catch some cash by killing them," Ranma answered, shrugging. "Then Karen shows up outta nowhere, and wants to talk, but she's in the middle of this mission. So we go along with her and here we are." He left out the expectation of being transported to where they were going; June would figure out they had a destination and would either arrange for it, or boot them off the sandship so that they could get back to walking there.
June shot a look at Karen, then turned her attention back to Ranma. "Saotome, how do you know the Colonel?" She said, mirroring Karen's earlier question.
The response that followed was entirely different, however, as Ranma and Karen both flushed badly. Ranma immediately clammed up and began tugging on his pigtail as he shied away from the general's gaze.
Karen managed to stutter out a response. "We w-were on some combat detail together!" She blurted out. "N-Not commando m-missions or anything, but we're... uh... we're old friends!"
June's eyebrow twitched again. "'Old friends.' Right." She didn't need psychic powers to pick up the tension and guess its likely cause.
Karen noted that June was now glaring openly at Ranma, but hadn't bothered her with even a visual reprimand. Odd.
"Very well. I understand the situation, and extend the hospitality and protection of the IEF to you and your friends for as long as you may need it," she said in tired voice, clearly indicating that she thought of this whole procedure as a wasteful chore.
"Cool! Thanks June!" Ranma said brightly, walking up and giving the general a friendly pat on the shoulder.
June considered vaporizing his arm as a warning against touching her, but decided against it. "You're welcome. Colonel, see to their arrangements and then get to work on your reports. That is all."
"Ma'am!" Karen said stiffly, saluting.
June swatted Ranma's hand off her shoulder, then stopped to give his companions a disdainful look before she turned and headed for the stairs, looking every bit the part of a queen touring her palace.

Ranma noticed that a lot of tension left Karen once her superior was out of sight. "What's the matter? You seem kinda wound up."
The colonel twitched, but calmed herself rather than exploding at him. 'What was he thinking, addressing the general by her first name, and patting her on the shoulder like a frat brother? No wonder she doesn't like him!' Karen, personally, found his rough, informal nature all the more endearing, but was well aware that most figures of authority would not.
"Never mind that. I'm fine now. Should we begin the tour? By the time we're done, it will probably be time for dinner." Her tension faded further as a mischievous glint entered her eye.
Ranma remembered his previous obligation, and beckoned Rayden over to him before whispering in his ear.
The dark paladin's bored expression didn't change, and he nodded absently. "Sure, I'll do that." Then he stepped up to Karen. "Where're the kitchens?"
Karen pointed uncertainly toward a set of stairs on the other end of the transport bay. "Near the aft of the ship. Take the stairs there, pass the munitions shops and take a left. Why?"
Without answering her question, he mumbled "Thanks," and left for the aforementioned stairs, K still held firmly in his hand. Karen noticed that in his other hand, he had taken Ranma's pack. Strange.
She shook her head. "Well, whatever. Shall we begin?"

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The sandship Epsilon was a titanic cruiser made out of a fragmented hull of some type and retrofitted with massive anti-gravity boosters. If one were to take a detailed analysis of the craft's body (and many had done so), one would conclude that the ship was clearly made to fly, and that the topside shielding, composed of numerous triangular chunks of mysterious metals suspended atop scaffolds and columns in awkward, uneven layers, was made of shattered pieces of the ship's original hull that had been somehow damaged.
Among the ship's crew and military compliment, some of which had been on the craft since its departure from Israel, the number of people who could explain these oddities could be counted on one hand with fingers left to spare. The number of people who WOULD explain them under any circumstances less severe than the cruelest torture or complete mind control was zero.
Ironically, on the Messiah there was one person who WASN'T with the IEF who knew these secrets, and would have divulged them with a little bit of smooth talking, probably without even realizing it. But nobody who was interested could have possibly guessed that the rough young man with the rusty old sword knew anything about it.
Nonetheless, there was only so much about a stadium-sized hovercraft that one could feasibly resign to secrecy, so Karen had no shortage of material to divulge as she led a fascinated Ranma and Kaze around on the topside deck.

"Every twenty meters is stationed a vulcan cannon emplacement for warding off air attacks," she explained, pointing to one of the heavily armored turrets and huge cylindrical barrel poking out of its wide shield. "Because many flying beasts and demons don't have signatures that missiles can easily track, most of the Messiah's weapons systems are direct fire systems. Though it does boast an impressive compliment of cruise missiles and even a pair of thermonuclear short-range ballistic missiles."
Ranma's eyes bugged out slightly. Kaze leaned toward him.
"Pst! What's a 'thermonuclear' missile?"
"Technological superweapon. City-destroying type of stuff," Ranma whispered back. Kaze nodded in understanding, looking suitably impressed.
"There are five magi-cannons mounted along the main hull; four for firing on ground targets, and the fifth mounted topside for attacking large air targets. They use crystal relays and an imprinted magic circle to turn fairly weak lasers into light lances. The impact force is estimated at eighteen times that of a typical 120mm. cannon," Karen explained, pointing to a large sphere-mounted turret being held up by several scaffolding towers.
Next, the sorceress pointed to the most obvious weapon of the Messiah; a tremendous artillery cannon that was mounted on a raised platform near the aft of the ship, with a barrel so long that it poked out above the scattered armor shields that covered the top deck, even at a slight angle. "This is the N-117 artillery cannon, though a lot of the crew calls it the 'Doomgun' or..." she hesitated for a moment in slight embarrassment as she prepared to utter the second name, "the 'Ubercannon'."
Kaze raised an eyebrow. "Interesting name. I like it."
"Glad to hear it," Karen mumbled. "It's an artillery gun to fire off experimental large warheads being developed in our labs: poison gas shells, cluster bombs, high-yield firebombs, as well as a number of magitech weapons such as large shield disruptors. Our current project is to find a way to launch a shell that projects an anti-magic field over a wide area."
"What's the huge glowing crystal tower?" Ranma asked, pointing to a spire composed of a large metal column with a great number of crystal shards emerging from the sides and slowly rotating, as well as a titanic gemstone at the top that resembled a blue diamond and crackled with electricity.
"That's the shield construct. It generates two energy fields: one that encompasses the ship and another independent field that envelops the shielding unit in particular. The redundancy system aims to prevent damage to the construct if the main shield falls under heavy bombardment and fails, since it's probably the most delicate and sophisticated device on board."
Ranma looked around the massive ship, deeply impressed. He had seen the Messiah a few years ago as a set of ruins settled below a vast labyrinth at the bottom of the Dead Sea, but back then it resembled just that: an ancient, crumbling structure of rusted metal.
"So whaddya need all this stuff for, anyway?" Ranma finally asked. "I mean, do you just cruise around killing bandits all the time? What does the IEF do?"
Karen nodded at the common question. "We're sort of an all-purpose autonomous attack force for... well, 'justice and humanity,' I suppose you could say. As controversial as the idea is to some people, we're a military force dedicated to wiping out malevolent groups to promote peace and order in these regions."
Ranma understood that easily enough, though he didn't get why such an idea would be "controversial." To anyone who had grown up in the wastes, killing to prevent unnecessary bloodshed was as natural and sensible as hunting.
"We also carry out large contracts and engage in skirmishes with local powers that are determined to be a threat to the nearby nations. Battling against the demon lords is tricky, so we rarely attack them directly, but very few demon lords have the power to keep us from razing assets and holdings away from their home bases and manipulating the balance of power however we need to."
Then Karen frowned. "Actually, I'm kind of curious about this Greken fellow. Commanding more than a few dragons is no mean feat, and if he was able to amass even a dozen of them, it should have given him a red flag as far as the Japanese Empire is concerned. Strange that I haven't really heard of him."
"I imagine his ownership of the dragons is usually reduced to 'myth' status outside of his own territories," Kaze theorized, rubbing his chin. "Personally, I can't imagine how he commands them myself. I wouldn't be inclined to believe that the serpents followed Greken's direct command if it weren't for the fact that they seem to be actively hunting Master Saotome. That many dragons in an area could otherwise be chalked up to a great number of dragon nests or a dragon lord with an unusually large harem. The idea that all of them are working for a minor demon lord, and without killing each other over territory or mates, is truly unusual."
Ranma shrugged. "Well, we'll probably figure it out once we find him. If we don't all get eaten first or something." Then he held a hand over his head as he stared out toward the bow of the ship. "So you have fighters and stuff, right? What kind of army can this thing carry around?"
Karen smiled proudly. "The Messiah carries a normal complement of six thousand soldiers, a crew of eight hundred, and a vehicular force of twenty aircraft, thirty grav tanks, ten skimmers, and around eighty assorted mecha, from scouts to artillery units. We're the most powerful fighting force of our size in the world."
"At least until the Americans manage to copy your designs and build a force just like it," Kaze said off-hand.
Karen sweatdropped. "Uh... well... yeah. Pretty much." She didn't really have anything to say to that. Trying to keep up with America militarily was just impossible. "Any other questions, or should I move on to the labs?"
Kaze raised his hand. "Is there a place about the craft that serves alcohol?"
Karen didn't drink much herself other than wine, but had been asked the question often enough that she knew the answer by heart. "Two levels down those stairs and to the right. There'll be a sign. As a guest, you can use the officer's lounge instead of the soldier's if you'd like." Really, she had been expecting to send Rayden there before he left for the kitchen. 'I wonder what he's doing down there, anyway?'

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General Kitinski stalked down the hallways of the lower decks of the Messiah, her expression a mix of sulking and fuming.
It was her habit that, whenever she was annoyed with no obvious solution to the subject of her irritation, she put her mind off of it by performing monotonous, mostly useless tasks. In this case, the task was a surprise inspection of the heavy machinery in the bowels of the Messiah.
The crew frankly hated these inspections, not because they were usually ill-prepared, but because the general was almost invariably in a bad mood when they occurred. Thus she had gained quite a fierce reputation for being exceptionally hard on her maintenance crews and throwing fits over ridiculously small details, when in fact she didn't know the first thing about the machines' operation and was completely satisfied so long as they weren't visibly on fire.
The various mechanics and engineers all fought to keep tired and beleaguered expressions off their faces as the golden-skinned woman stalked past them. Some of them were even openly leering at the general's undeniably skimpy outfit, as they had learned long ago that ogling her didn't annoy the super-soldier nearly as much as looking put upon by her presence.
Luckily for those men and women, before June could get very far in her inspection, the door at the end of the engine block burst open, and a young private rushed through.
He jerked to a stop and saluted stiffly as the general turned toward him. "General Kitinski, Ma'am! We have a situation in the kitchens! One of the guests threw out all the cooks, and..." he gulped as he realized that the woman in front of him was probably a little high on the power ladder to be bothered with minor disturbances like this, especially when she appeared to be in the middle of something. "Uh... well, I just rushed off to tell the first officer I could find, and-"
"I see," June interrupted, looking quite interested. "Very well. I'll attend to it personally. Thank you Private, you are dismissed." Turning away from the shocked soldier, she waved neglectfully at the maintenance crews. "The inspection will have to wait for another day. As you were." Turning back around to follow the private to the kitchens, she missed the various relieved looks on the engineers, mixed with some winces for whatever poor bastard had just attracted the general's wrath.

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Said poor bastard was holding an old man in a chef's outfit up by the front of his shirt when June found him, a metal dragon perched on his shoulder and obviously trying to mediate the situation without success.
"For the last time, old man! Stop buggin' me!" Rayden growled, holding a butcher knife in his free hand instead of his sword. That it had no blood on it was reassuring, but the dark paladin looked intimidating under any circumstances.
The head cook, either assuming that a guest of the IEF would never actually harm a member of the Messiah's crew or just too stubborn to care, growled right back. "I'll stop yellin' at'cha when ya git outta mah kitchen, yeh filthy vagrant!"
Rayden frowned, then glanced at K. "Vagrant is an insult, right? It sounds like an insult. Especially with 'filthy' tacked on in front."
K grimaced. "Please, DON'T provoke him. Look, can't you both use the kitchen?"
"I need the space! And all those cooks runnin' around keep getting in my way and moving the materials!" Rayden complained.
"I'll not have yah rats in MAH kitchen! Git out!" protested the chef with far more vigor.

June took stock of the situation, then stepped forward and snapped her fingers.
If the finger snap didn't attract attention on its own, then the small but powerful burst of force that detonated around Rayden's hand and separated the two men did the trick. All eyes turned to her, and the head cook and various other crew all snapped to attention.
"I take it there's a problem here?" June asked calmly, eyeing Rayden with a cool glare.
The dark paladin frowned. That blast had barely stung his hand, but he was moderately impressed by the woman's casual accuracy with an unincanted spell. "Yeah, there is. You're in charge, right?"
"Yes, I'm in charge," June drawled. "So what's the problem?"
"It's right here," Rayden said, picking up the cook again before he could protest. "Here. You deal with it." Without further warning, he casually tossed the cook into the sorceress's arms.
Or that was the idea, anyway. Instead, before the shocked crew (and a mortified metadragon), the head cook flew through the air in an arc toward the silver-haired general... before slamming into an energy field and bouncing off onto the floor, groaning.
Rayden didn't seem to care about this outcome, and took a moment to dust off his trench coat before turning back into the main kitchen and closing the door behind him.

June frowned. "It would seem Saotome keeps some rather unpleasant company," she mused aloud.
Below her, the cook blubbered incoherently, unsure if he should apologize for the situation or complain about being deflected like a common projectile.
Without waiting for the man to gather himself, June stepped forward and headed into the kitchen.

"I get the distinct feeling that we're very, very dead," K murmured nervously.
Rayden ignored him, quite used to hearing that particular sentiment from other people who tagged along with him. At the moment he was busy chopping up huge blocks of meat and slathering a marinade on them from a bowl close by. Other hunks of meat were arrayed about the multiple counters, along with chopped vegetables and other materials awaiting his attention.
When the door to the kitchen opened again, Rayden growled and turned toward the entrance, expecting that it was the head cook again.
He was only slightly less irritated that it was General Kitinski instead. "Oh. What do YOU want?"
June raised an eyebrow. "First, I'd like to know what you're doing."
Rayden gave her an annoyed look. "What does it look like I'm doing? Alchemy? I'm cooking! Now scram! I'm busy here!"
As the dark paladin turned back around, K chuckled nervously. "I'd just like to point out that our activities here are technically harmless and well-meaning... and that I neither agree with or condone Rayden's sentiments."
"Noted," June drawled as she walked up to Rayden's back. "Mister Shikodan, as you're no soldier of mine I can only demand the most indirect and basic modicum of respect from you. However, I couldn't help but notice that you seem to take issue with me."
Rayden turned around and glared down at the silver-haired woman. "And I couldn't help but notice that you're still here bothering me instead of leaving. What's up with that?"
June frowned as she stared up, not liking the way the demonic soldier towered over her. "Very well. It appears diplomacy has failed. On to violence." Then she poked him in the chest. "Disintegration."
FOOM! There was a bright flash of light, and Rayden let out a strangled cry as he felt every cell in his body simultaneously try to tear itself apart.
When the light had abated completely, June blinked at the charred man who was still glaring down at her.
Hack! Rayden coughed up some smoke, and then his eyes narrowed at the woman below him. "That hurt, you know."
Then he slowly teetered forward, prompting the sorceress to step out of the way as he fell flat onto the floor. Whump!
June looked mildly surprised. "Odd. I'm used to things dying when I use that spell."
K winced at the confirmation that, yes, the woman had just tried to kill one of his companions for a minor offense. K hoped that this experience would teach Rayden a little more about the value of politeness... but he doubted it. "Rayden's damn near invulnerable. But that aside, we're not trying to step on any toes here. Maybe you could let him off with a reprimand? Aside from already trying to kill him, I mean?"
The silver-haired sorceress planted one foot on the small of Rayden's back. "I suppose that can be arranged. Shikodan, you seem to have an innate problem with authority. Well, other than Saotome, for some reason I can't begin to fathom. As I've already noted, you're not one of my soldiers, so there's no need for me to attempt to correct this behavior. However, you WILL get out of this kitchen so that my crew can get back to work, and you WILL restrain yourself when we meet in the future. Is that clear?"
Rayden coughed again, then glared at her from his position on the floor. "Bite me."

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From outside the kitchen entrance, the head cook was wringing his hat nervously as the other crew members huddled around him, each one sneaking occasional glances toward the kitchen.
"Didja see 'at flash? She musta blahsted the fool!" the head cook said anxiously. He obviously had a conflict with the demon knight, but the man had been a guest of the IEF, and he had just been vaporized for a petty squabble that the cook had refused to compromise on. "I don' think we should still be'ere when the general comes out!"
Another cook frowned dubiously. "I think we should just wait so we can get right back to work. Otherwise we'll have to use the secondary kitchens and break open more of the dried foods." Obviously, he didn't think nearly as much of the intruder's death as his supervisor did. "She'll be done any second in there. If she was careful, we won't even have to clean up!"
The head cook glared at the man for his flippant attitude. "Idiot! I'll not be around the general when she stahts zappin' fools for harsh language!"
Another crew member, this one a dishwasher, looked worried. "Well, she wouldn't hurt any of us on a whim, would she?"
FOOM! FOOM! FOOM! All the crew members flinched back as multiple flashes of light came from the kitchen.
"OW!! Knock it off, you crazy bitch!" BLAMMO! "GRK!"
The crew members around the head cook suddenly seemed much more nervous.
"You know, I really DO have other things to do besides standing around here."
"I guess the secondary kitchen isn't so bad."
"I always did like canned food."
"Let's get the hell outta here."

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June frowned at the smoking, blackened mass that lay twitching beneath her, quite annoyed that it was still twitching, and thus obviously alive.
"As soon as I can feel something in my body other than BLINDING PAIN, you'll pay for that," Rayden said in a fairly strained, high-pitched voice.
The sorceress sighed and ran a hand back through her long, silver hair. "Save the threats. If you won't die or give up by now, then have it your way. Assuming you regain some sort of muscle control soon, you may use the kitchen for as long as you want."
K sweatdropped. "You're letting him off the hook just like that?"
"Leaving someone after four attempted disintegrations and a blast press is hardly letting them off the hook," June deadpanned as she turned away and headed toward the exit. "Frankly, if he's that hard to kill, it's far too much effort for me to expend for such a minor offense, and I can see no other way to get him to listen to me. Besides, now that I think about it, Saotome may take it quite badly to hear that I'd killed one of his teammates without good cause."
K mulled this over, noting with great interest that the general, who had just tried to casually destroy a Dread Knight, was slightly worried about raising Ranma's ire.
June was about to exit, but stopped for a moment at the door to give a final disdainful glance at the charred mess of a man on the floor. "It really figures that all of Saotome's companions would be as annoying and resilient as he is."
The metadragon shrugged helplessly, hoping that her criticism didn't extend to him as well. He knew he had a reputation for being annoying, but metal carapace or not, he had no idea just how resilient he was, and had no desire to find out.

After the general had left in mild annoyance, Rayden's hand rose up and clenched the edge of the table, slowly pulling up the rest of his smoldering body.
Once he was more or less standing (using the counter as support), he weakly raised his other hand with his index and middle finger in a "V".
K rolled his eyes. "You call that a victory?"
The Dread Knight coughed a few times, and then nodded. "I was so ridiculously tough that a master sorceress got tired of trying to kill me and let me have my way. How is that NOT a victory?"
"Putting aside the fact that it looks like she got really, really close..." the metadragon mused, "well, it just doesn't seem like the kind of win a warrior would be proud of."
"Beside the point. Besides, it wasn't a real battle or anything," he reasoned, leaving out the obvious fact that it probably would have been if he hadn't been completely incapacitated right away. Then he started stretching himself like he did every time he was beaten nearly to death, leaving K to wince at the loud cracks and popping noises. "Man, she's pretty strong though! I really underestimated her!"
K flew over next to him as Rayden steadied himself without using the counter, and then picked up the kitchen knives so that he could resume his cooking. "Does that mean you won't piss her off next time you see her?" He asked. Sometimes K really wondered how the mess of tangled up wires that was Rayden's brain really worked.
"Eh. Maybe," the dark paladin considered, chopping up some onions. "Well, not on purpose, I guess."
"Dandy," K mumbled. "Have you ever considered that a slight change in attitude and mannerisms might result in you getting almost killed less often?"
"Sure," the demon knight said as he pushed the onions aside into a bowl of oil. "But then I think about how bothersome changing is, and decide that I don't really mind almost dying that much."
"So you'd rather be lying in a pool of your own blood than show token respect to a stuck-up, self-important magi," the metadragon asked for clarification.
"Naturally," Rayden rubbed his chin for a moment and then poked the tiny dragon in the side. "Hey, make yourself useful and find me some liquor, okay?"
"Don't you always carry some around with you?"
"Well, sure, but I wanna save that stuff if I can take someone else's booze."
K looked up at him dubiously. "So do you want it to drink, or to put in the food?"
"To put on some of the deeper second-degree burns," Rayden clarified. 'Damn disintegrations... the worst part is that they hurt WORSE when they don't work.'
K sighed. "Yeah, okay. Be right back."

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Lieutenant Emrey fumed as he peeked around the hallway corner to watch the couple moving throught the ship and glancing through the weapons labs.
Karen had been sadly mistaken if she thought that a task like arranging lodging would distract him for any meaningful period of time. Besides the fact that it was easily delegated to anyone who would stand to take orders from the rakshasa (which most of the soldiers of lower rank would, even if they grumbled about it a lot), it wouldn't have taken very long even if he had bothered to do it himself.
So he had had ample time to finish his task and then scout around the ship for his commanding officer. And lo and behold, when he found her, she had already ditched the non-human adventurers and had her arm hooked around the elbow of the pigtailed man that led the vagrants.
"Look at them!" He growled irritably. "Strolling down the hall arm in arm like a couple at the park! Pfeh!"
Obviously, the shape-shifter felt that Ranma was taking obscene advantage of Karen's apparent feelings for him. They had gone their separate ways years ago, and yet the moment he was back in the picture, she was all over him. As opposed to Emrey himself, who had stood by her side and taken her orders for over a year, constantly showering her with affection and support (in both a tactical and emotional sense), yet was kept at arms length, unable to breach the barrier of "friend." It was a disgusting state of affairs.
And the filthy wanderer just tried to play it cool, pretending like nothing was happening, and betraying only cordial interest in the gorgeous sorceress. No doubt the wanderer would lay her and happily leave her just the next day, just like... just like...
Well, just like he did to other women. Not because he was a womanizing slimeball, of course, but because he already had someone in mind for a committed relationship. Unlike this Ranma guy.
The question was what to do about it. He knew that they had planned to have dinner together, which would most likely lead to a long, erotic encounter to be repeated several times until they finally booted the wanderers off the ship. How to ruin that plan without being blamed for it?
Simply attacking the pigtailed worm was right out. Putting aside the fact that the man seemed to have a certain perpetual battle-readiness to him that set Emrey on edge, he wasn't quite so jealous that he would kill or even permanently injure him without provocation.
General Kitinski might be inclined to interrupt them, if he could find her and convince her to do so. He had seen the encounter between Karen and June, and noticed, like everyone else who wasn't blind, the obvious irritation and distaste with which the general treated Ranma. Of course, he had no clue what the source of that enmity was, but his talents lied in uncovering things like that and using it to his advantage.
'Yes, General Kitinski's my best bet. If I can convince her to bring in Karen for a comprehensive report or night detail, that would put off their plans for the night. Tomorrow I can work on getting those adventurers off the ship.'

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Emrey had numerous tools at his disposal for a task such as this. Deception and misdirection was his element as surely as furious destruction was Rayden's.
As a rakshasa, he possessed the ability to shapeshift, could mimic voices with ease, sense another creature's emotions and read their surface thoughts, and had his share of minor enchantment spells to help people see things his way. Ordinarily convincing someone that they should occupy a woman's time to prevent her from being alone with a certain man would be no major feat from someone of his cunning and abilities.
There was the slight concern that he would be trying to manipulate the general in command of the IEF. June Kitinski's general opinion of demons didn't change as much as one would hope whether those demons were actively trying to kill her or do their best to serve her. The biggest factor that kept her from vaporizing the members of Karen's retinue was the effort it would take to find them (as they tended to avoid the light sorceress), do the actual disintegrating, and then deal with the whining and enmity from Colonel Molsk herself.
So if he was going to convince the general of anything, he figured that he'd either need to be disguised and extremely careful not to be detected, or he'd need to get the general really, really drunk.
He was quite surprised when he peeked into the officer lounge and saw that the silver-haired sorceress was already halfway into plan B.
General Kitinski was known for being extremely level-headed, though rather cold when it came to non-humans. She could take on nearly any situation with a calm, regal demeanor that lesser officers, including Karen herself, envied deeply. Many didn't like how she could keep that calm, regal demeanor while blasting a light lance through an imp diplomat while declaring her refusal to negotiate with monsters, but her attitude wasn't particularly unusual.
Seeing the general miserably slumped over a bar with a shot glass in her hand like a woman who'd just been cheated on by her husband... well, Emrey was tempted to take photographs just for the novelty of the situation.
The rakshasa, estimating that either she'd be more receptive to a non-human's advice when she was drunk, or at least too uncoordinated to activate and aim her spells, moved to sit next to her, only to see - much to his annoyance - the evon man from before take the seat before he could even get across the room.

"Hello there!" Kaze said cheerfully as he sat down next to the general, a wide smile on his face in contrast to the woman's mute sulking expression. Turning to the barkeep, who was keeping a fair distance from the woman, he snapped his fingers. "Double scotch on the rocks, please. Put it on Saotome's tab."
June raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, not even turning to look at the man who had greeted her.
The barkeep frowned. "Who's Saotome?"
"The fellow in charge of my expenses," Kaze answered. "Not to worry. He's a friend of the general here." He jabbed a thumb at the silver-haired woman.
The barkeep tensed. "Uh... you don't say... General Kitinski?"
The woman still didn't bother turning. "I know him."
That was good enough for the man behind the counter, who quickly backed off to get the evon's drink.
"So, you look perfectly miserable!" Kaze said conversationally, clearly trying to engage the woman in conversation. "Wanna talk about it?"
Finally, June straightened and looked over at the man sitting next to her. "I tried to destroy your demon friend in the kitchen."
Kaze nodded sagely. "Yes, I heard. It would seem you failed, too. Don't feel too bad; as you might imagine, everybody who's tried to kill him thusfar has failed as well. And by my estimation that's quite a collection of attempts."
June's eyes narrowed. "So, tell me: what's keeping me from disintegrating you?"
Kaze thanked the bartender as he was handed his drink, then turned back to the sorceress. "Magic shield."
The general snorted. "I could break through that."
"Yes, I suppose you could," the evon answered without a hint of anxiety.
The two stared at each other for a moment, and then June gave a disgusted grunt before slamming back her drink. "Another!" She snapped before turning back to Kaze. "Look, I'm going to be perfectly frank with you: I'm more tolerant toward pointy-ears and clowns than I am toward... hmm... whatever the hell the big guy is, but I still don't like your kind."
Kaze nodded in understanding, ignoring the racial slurs referring to elves and evons, respectively. "Yes, yes, I figured as much. We all have our prejudices. Personally, I have no favor with elves myself. But enough about me, let's talk about you." Before she could voice any protest, he took a quick sip of his drink and continued. "You obviously take issue with Saotome. However, this irritation is clearly not mutual, nor is it serious enough that you're willing to leverage your considerable personal power to cause him harm or discomfort. Despite this, the problem is severe enough that it weighs on your mind, and causes you to seek inebriation - which, by the tense and confused expressions of the other individuals in the lounge, is a rather unusual occurrence."
June looked slightly overwhelmed, and turned away from the evon. "You're... very perceptive." Seeing that the barkeep had refilled her glass when she wasn't looking, she picked up the glass, then hesitated.
Kaze pretended not to notice her indecision. "So I must ask: what is the situation between you and Master Saotome?"
Frowning, June took a small sip instead of downing the whole shot, and glared distastefully at the evon. "You don't need to know that."
"Of course I don't," Kaze said calmly. "If I did, I would have just asked Master Saotome himself to describe his relationship with you, and then divulged the answer by filling in the gaping holes left by his staggering social ineptitude. I'm far more interested in talking to you than I am in satisfying idle curiosity."
The sorceress stared at him guardedly, unsure of what to make of that statement. "Are... Are you hitting on me?"
"Well, duh," Kaze deadpanned, taking another long sip of scotch.
June schooled her features. "If for no other reason, you should be commended for your honesty. But I am an IEF general, and-"
"And I don't really care," Kaze interrupted with a wave of his hand. "That's what you do for a living, and it's great. But it doesn't make you any less of a woman, nor does it make you 'off-limits' to irreverent scoundrels such as myself."
The sorceress's jaw worked silently as she groped for something to say.
"Oh, I know how it is," the cleric said gently, patting the stunned woman on the shoulder. "You're a woman in a position of great responsibility usually held by men. As if that doesn't make you insecure enough, you've undergone artificial magitech enhancement to give yourself unnatural powers that human science is only beginning to understand. Over time, you forget that being respected and feared are entitlements of your position to be observed by enemy and subordinate and not by the world in general. You cease being a human being, in need of understanding and love, and become a simple war machine, who needs only approval and admiration. Deep inside, you know something's wrong, that something is eating away at you, but you're afraid to embrace the weak, vulnerable creature you used to be. You're afraid to lose the respect and power. Afraid to risk. Afraid to trust. Afraid to love." Shrugging, he turned back to his drink and finished it off. "It doesn't help that you're surrounded by men who are terrified of invoking your wrath, and that you have a reputation for magically powered objections to unprofessional and disrespectful conduct. But you feel that changing your ways to attract men betrays your obvious strength, and inevitably you keep any willing suitor at arm's length. I've seen it before."
June was staring at him bug-eyed, and her shot glass slowly slipped down out of her frozen grip. Luckily, she was holding it just a few inches above the bar, so it hardly spilled a drop, but the slight sound broke her out of her stupor. Still stunned, she turned around to stare at the back of the bar as the evon's speech swirled around in her alcohol-addled mind.

Finally, after nearly a minute of silence, she turned back toward the white-haired man. "Well... if you intended to seduce me, I think that pretty much did it."
"Excellent!" Kaze said happily, moving his hand from the sorceress's shoulder to around her waist. "However, I AM rather curious as to the situation with Master Saotome."
"Ah. That," June mumbled as she leaned into the evon's shoulder. Some part of her mind screamed in panic that every other officer in the lounge was probably watching and gaping as a near-stranger openly wormed his way into her panties, but the inebriated sectors of her brain, as well as the parts thoroughly engrossed in mulling over Kaze's speech silenced it. "It's nothing, really. I mean, it's something, but it's my problem, not his."
"I supposed as much. Something about Ranma bothers you, but there's no actual conflict that he's aware of... which probably annoys you more," Kaze guessed.
"EXTREMELY perceptive," June murmured. "Well, there are basically two issues here. You know what you said about me being insecure?"
The evon nodded silently, this time letting her go ahead without interjecting any of his psychically attuned observations.
Picking up her drink, the silver-haired general finished it off and then put the glass aside. "I'm thirty-six. I'm, as you pointed out, a woman, and a two-star general. Through sheer bloody-minded effort and not a little bit of political sniping, I managed to make this rank before middle age and get myself assigned as the head of the most sophisticated and advanced military force on the face of the planet." She sighed. "Colonel Karen Molsk is one rank below me in magic power. She's made Colonel at age NINETEEN. She doesn't know the first thing about politics, isn't even half as self-conscious as I am, and has even refused a promotion once because it would have taken her off the front lines during the Death March."
"I see," Kaze mumbled. "Her success, seemingly without the ambition normally required, threatens you?"
"A little," the sorceress admitted. "It certainly helps that she takes orders from me." Then she scowled. "That's Colonel Molsk. Then we have Saotome."
She fumed for a moment, wishing that she had ordered another drink to guzzle down at that point. "When I first met him he was just fourteen years old. FOURTEEN! I had been serving Israel for decades, seen close friends and family brutally killed, and led soldiers to crushing victories as well as agonizing deaths."
She scooted her stool over so that she didn't have to lean over as far to rest on Kaze's shoulder, and ignored the whispers coming from the other people in the lounge. "I was the commanding officer for a commando squad for a long time. We were pretty busy, since the demonic armies kept launching frequent, disorganized assaults against our defenses, which kept our regular forces too occupied to launch a proper counter-attack, even if the losses the enemy incurred as compared to us were devastating. Commando units were used to destroy demon nests which kept springing up in the urban ruins and trying to reinforce the local armies, as well as killing enemy mages who frequently led the more effective assaults and were personally responsible for eighty percent of the actual damage to our defenses."
June sighed. "So there I was, a grizzled, ambitious soldier taking on near-suicidal missions into the very lairs of creatures straight out of our worst nightmares, all for the sake of the safety of my country. And then I get a kid assigned to my command." Her eye twitched. "A little boy whose voice had barely finished changing, and couldn't use it to speak a word of Hebrew anyway, was being sent on the most dangerous, sensitive missions reserved for Israel's elite, serving as a mercenary. A mercenary! Each time we left we doubted we'd ever come back, and this CHILD joins up just for the paycheck!"
"Ah, I think I see where this is going," Kaze said. "Given that I've SEEN Master Saotome in battle, I think it's safe to say that his skills were neither useless nor unimpressive."
June snorted. "That man is a death machine, pure and simple. His personal kill count for magi, under my command alone, mind you, was eighteen. I haven't managed that many in my entire career so far. He's saved my life and numerous other commandos' dozens of times. He's completed entire missions by himself AND performed rescues during those missions, sometimes against orders!"
Kaze nodded as the sorceress continued to fume. "Go on. I assume there's more to it."
"Oh, there is," she grumbled. "If he was just some exemplary commando, it wouldn't have been so bad, but Saotome is just... just so damn..."
"Informal? Passionate? Unprofessional? Heroic?" Kaze guessed.
"Yes," June mumbled. "He thinks nothing of protocol, he doesn't care about the objective beyond his getting paid for it, he doesn't take his job seriously, he's always showing off, he always treats the lives of his comrades as being more important than the mission or any orders that might complicate him saving/protecting them, and he's just so damn GOOD at it!" She nuzzled herself into the crook of Kaze's neck. "But what am I supposed to complain about? That he's so much better than me? That he thinks the lives of his friends are more important than the objective? That he won't even consider conflicts of authority when someone he cares about is in danger? That he's rude and disrespectful while he's in the process of saving countless lives and ensuring absolute victory for us?"
The evon cleric said nothing, merely holding the silver-haired woman closely.
Eventually, she sighed. "So that's what it all boils down to. Jealousy and bitterness. Well, that, and his attitude DOES grate on me. Back then, I envied his power, which was why I was in such a rush to become a magi soldier. Of course, once the process had been completed and tested, Ranma was gone and the only benchmarks I had to compare myself to were the other cyborgs. And now he's back, and better than ever." She sighed again. "And he looks so damn happy. He's free to do whatever he wants. He has intimate companionship flocking to him, even here. He has close and powerful friends that apparently follow him just because they want to, without obligation from a military hierarchy or even a regular paycheck. After all my hard work and rank and entitlements and gains, I envy a seventeen year-old boy who spends his life slogging from mudhole to shoddy mudhole looking for cheap work in order to eat."
"And that pisses you off far more than Master Saotome himself," Kaze theorized.
"You got it, clown," despite still using the slur for evon, there was no malevolence or coldness in her voice. In fact, she sounded... relieved.
"Well, in all fairness, he's not all THAT happy," the cleric reasoned. "He IS being hunted down by dragons, you know. And as for his friends, I can guarantee that we're all far more trouble than we're worth."
June considered this. "Hmmmm... you know, that makes me feel a little better."
Kaze chuckled lightly. "Well, that does it for backstory exposition. Want to go back to your quarters?"
The silver-haired woman sat up straight and slid off her stool. "I thought you'd never ask. This way."

Emrey, who had snuck into a booth nearby to eavesdrop on the conversation, scowled mightily. Not only because he had just wasted twenty minutes to watch the cornerstone of his plan run off to get laid, but also because he hadn't known that the general was so vulnerable to having someone spew sympathetic nonsense to her.
'What a tired old speech, too! The 'there's a woman deep inside who wants to be loved' monologue is so cliche! If I'd known that's all it took to get her out of uniform, I would've nailed her long ago!' the rakshasa thought. Not that he was really brave enough to put the moves on a woman as powerful and merciless as General Kitinski, but it was grating to see the scrawny cleric perform a feat of empathy and seduction he could manage with ease.
'Well, that was a dry well. I suppose it's on to plan B, then. Or is it C now? Well, whatever.'

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Garron sniffed the air tenderly as the skimmer piled the vulture wreck into its bays, standing apart from the other soldiers.
Besides being a sniper and a ranger, both skill sets that were primarily used while separated from other unit members, the werewolf knew that he usually made the normal men uncomfortable, which is why he was rarely given guard detail. That the officer in charge decided to take him along was entirely due to his skills in detecting enemies and skill at forestry, since there were still supposed to be some enemies lurking around in the forest.
So while the normal soldiers milled around the skimmer with their eyes glued to the treeline, he was perched on one of the sturdier branches, sniffing the air.
'Something's... not right here. Hmmm...' Frowning, he jumped down and began to walk back to the skimmer, seeing that it had completed loading the wreckage.
Sniff! Sniff!
Garron stopped, and his ears twitched.
Then he slowly leaned down, and placed his hand on the ground, staying absolutely still.
His ears fell back against his head. "Oh, no..." Dropping any pretense of stealth, he dashed out of the forest and toward the skimmer, moving so fast that many of the IEF soldiers standing guard almost shot him in their surprise.
"Move the transport!" He shouted, waving his clawed hand at the men up top. "Something's coming! Get out of here!!"
Everyone knew he was the ranger for a reason, and the soldiers immediately began clambering up into the skimmer despite their confusion. More than one man shouted out questions about what the problem was as they went, however.
"A subterranean! An earth stalker or a wyrm! Or maybe even something bigger!" The werewolf shouted, making a mighty leap to grab onto the railing of the top of the transport skimmer before hoisting himself over the edge.

The skimmer, naturally, floated above the ground via anti-gravity fields as it turned around to head back to the Messiah. So when the ground began visibly trembling, the only soldiers to notice were those that were, for one reason or another, looking closely at the surrounding forest or the ground and noting that the grass and branches were shaking without any wind.
It didn't matter for long, as the rumbling soon became audible, and the skimmer jerked to the side awkwardly as an armored head burst through the dirt and rock and scraped by the transport's side.
Garron gulped as the head rose approximately thirty feet in the air, supported by a thick, powerfully armored neck, and then tilted over to stare balefully at the comparatively tiny creatures in the skimmer.
"Ah. I see. It's something bigger," the werewolf mumbled quietly as his nearly overpowering natural instincts urged him to jump off the skimmer and flee, perhaps taking a moment to soil himself first. The soldier in him barely managed the discipline required to actually wait for an order, assuming that panic hadn't driven the wits right out of the commanders.
It hadn't. "Release flare bombs!" One lieutenant shouted in a voice that Garron found surprisingly firm. Every once in a while, the humans did impress him.
With only a split-second of hesitation, several soldiers armed with grenade launcher attachments switched out the fragmentation ammunition and loaded the light-based stun grenades before raising their rifles and firing in a symphony of harmless sounding Pop! noises.
The earth dragon, which had been trying to decide the best way in which to bite into the bulky, floating craft, was suddenly subjected to dozens of flare bursts all around its head. The fire damage was negligible to the massive beast, but it howled in fury as incredibly bright flashes of light totally blinded its darkness-attuned, light-sensitive eyes.
Growling, the earth dragon reared its head back before driving itself forward, intending to smash the floating transport to pieces.
It didn't work, and the frustrated creature found itself smashing into bare dirt. As its normal vibration-based senses detected nothing from the skimmers anti-gravity field, the ancient serpent slowly brought other, less common senses to bear that it rarely used.

This afforded the men on the skimmer precious moments to act, and as the hovercraft began to pick up speed and altitude, soldiers ran for the deck guns, turning the rail-mounted light autocannons on the confused beast.
Garron winced as his sensitive hearing protested at the roar of the weapons, and he unslung his sniper rifle, unsure as he was whether it would be of any use in this situation; while his rounds would doubtlessly be able to penetrate dragon hide, he doubted such a relatively small, single projectile would do any real damage, even against relatively vulnerable targets such as eyes and the brain.
VWABOOM! Massive crystals burst up through the ground next to the skimmer, raking the sides and shattering as they scored dents and small tears in the transport's armor. The transport itself shook slightly, but otherwise remained steady as it continued to wind its way through the trees and upward to a higher altitude.
Garron frowned as he watched the pattern of birds flying upward out of the trees, putting years of experience and discipline to use in ignoring the battle in which he could barely contribute (but which his life doubtlessly hinged upon) in order to search the surrounding area.
He noted something was wrong immediately. Birds and even earthbound woodland creatures had difficulty fleeing from an earth dragon's approach, because it was nigh impossible for most of them to tell where the threat was approaching from, and birds didn't even notice until the creatures were right on top of (or more precisely, right under) them. Judging by the waves of avians taking low-level flight through the forest - not to mention the way they simply wound around their current position, rather than taking off away from it - indicated a larger incoming threat, and one far more visible than the beast currently hurling large-radius earth spells at the small transport.
Knowing that he wasn't going to like what he was about to see, the sniper braced a clawed foot against the railing and fished for his binoculars.

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The skimmer captain tried to keep from shaking as another razor-sharp crystal tower burst from the ground below, being barely avoided only because of the skimmer's speed and rolling gait over the surface. While the lieutenant barked insults and demands at the soldiers at the autocannon mounts, he was in charge of making desperate, awkward guesses as to the path that would keep them from getting killed until the massive dragon regained its vision (at which point they were all dead, as the dodging ability of the skimmer was not nearly enough to counter the massive beast otherwise).
He was also in charge of radioing for help and warning the Messiah about the creature, but somehow those efforts had been stymied in advance.
"What do you mean you can't get through? Is it a mechanical problem?" He growled, unnecessarily raising the pitch of his voice so that it edged out the report from the deck guns above.
"I don't KNOW, sir!" The communications officer seethed. "It's nothing apparent, but all I'm getting is static!"
Both mens' fragile nerves nearly broke when a furry, bestial form burst into the cockpit of the transport.
"What in the bloody-"
Garron cut the man off with a snap of his jaws. He didn't like using such a tactic, as it reinforced people's view of him as a mere monster, but now was frankly the perfect time to dispense with such concerns. "Listen to me! Stop gaining altitude immediately! As soon as you-"
The werewolf was cut by a loud grinding noise, followed by the entire craft shaking.
"M-Minor damage to the anti-gravity engines, Captain!" The damage technician said. "We're maintaining power!"
This distraction apparently shook some of the captain's spine back into place, and he glared at the one-eyed lycanthrope. "Please explain to me, Sergeant, why I should put my crew and cargo at the mercy of that serpentine freak out there by maintaining an altitude too low to breach the surrounding forest wall keeping us in this area?"
Garron twitched. Of COURSE no one was just going to make this easy and listen to him without questions. "How about at least a dozen approaching dragons, mostly fliers, who could snap us up out of the air or spit a fireball right on top of us without even slowing down?"
The captain was silent for a few moments. "Okay... and how is staying here supposed to help us evade them?" He didn't know much about dragons, but he knew that they tended to have rather good vision. The hovercraft was bulky, had no camouflage or cloaks, and couldn't possibly fit into the forest to be protected by the forest canopy.
"Because the dragons are clearly coordinating their approach on a single target; my guess is the Messiah itself," Garron explained, annoyed that he had to go into detail when they had so little time, but gratified that the man was now listening to him. "What we're going to do is make an intentionally rough landing on the edge of the forest and make it look like we've wrecked. The fliers won't bother with us, and if everybody stays still and quiet, the earth dragon won't either. Once they decide that we're no longer a threat, they'll have to hurry on to keep up with the attack, and the subterranean will bring his magnetic fields with him, allowing us to start up radio contact again and give warning."
The captain swallowed, mulling the idea over but remaining skeptical. "How do you know they're not after us, or that they won't stop to finish us off once we've landed?"
"More than a dozen serpent kings to kill off thirty humans in a floating metal dinghy? That's beyond overkill," the werewolf replied. "On the other hand, if they're attacking the Messiah, it's more along the lines of 'maybe just enough'. They can't afford to get separated if a direct assault is to succeed." Then he mumbled under his breath. "I'm just hoping they realize that."
The captain chewed his lip, wincing as another screeching noise filled the cockpit from a crystal blast bombarding the skimmer armor. "Did you run this plan by the lieutenant?"
"Yes, Captain," Garron said honestly.
"And what'd he say?"
The werewolf's ears drooped slightly. "He said to shut up and get my ugly tail into a firing position and shoot something... and then he kicked me." Garron mumbled, fighting the urge to whimper. He HATED being outmuscled by ordinary humans. It served as a constant reminder of just how weak and helpless he was without his guns.
The captain of the vessel was silent for a few more moments until a distant roar came from overhead, being barely heard over the blaze of gunfire from the decks and the constant static from the communications relays.
"You know, I never liked that guy anyway," the captain decided, turning toward the pilot. "Reduce speed by thirty percent and altitude by forty percent. Head toward that tree bank and cut power to the engines on my mark. Oh, and give the boys a warning to brace themselves."
The man turned back to the surprised but visibly pleased werewolf as he found his seat and began to buckle up before bracing his legs against the railing. "Say, what if you're wrong about this and the damn lizards DO stop to kill us?"
Garron sweatdropped. "Ah. Well..." He shrugged. "I'm a ranger and a werewolf, and this is a forest. So you can rest assured that I'll be forced to take full responsibility for the failure of my plan when I make it back to the sandship safely. And most likely alone."
"Wonderful," the captain deadpanned. Then he turned toward the pilot. "Brace for impact! Cutting engine power in THREE! TWO! ONE! NOW!"

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Karen smiled broadly as she let Ranma into her room, not at all phased by the simple and unimpressive tunic he was wearing for the occasion (it was obvious that the wanderer had merely bathed and removed his armor and other equipment).
It was equally obvious that the Israeli woman had put more thought into her wardrobe, wearing a slinky black gown with long slits up the sides, but Ranma found it hard to find the outfit especially enticing when it showed LESS skin than her normal uniform.
As he sat down at the small table near the center of the room (though it seemed to be unusually close to the large, plain king-sized bed that dominated the relatively small space) somewhat nervously, he reflected on the most likely chain of events to take place here tonight.
Karen had not been at all ambiguous about her intentions, and had in fact lightly threatened him if he were to try to avoid their "date" while they had been back on the transport. Despite her obvious willingness to give herself to him, Ranma wasn't nearly so enthusiastic about taking every possible opportunity to make out with the sorceress. Karen was a valuable friend, and despite her protests to the contrary, he knew she wanted more out of their relationship than a one-night stand every time he stopped by. And the simple fact was that he could give her that relationship. But he just didn't want to, and frankly felt like a heel for it.
Of course, that was all beside the fact that he was trying, with great difficulty, to come up with a plan to infiltrate a demon lord's territory protected by several immortal, magical, and insanely powerful beasts. Eating dinner and rekindling old relationships, while great fun, were not his top priorities.
"Tsk! Where ARE the cooks? They should have shown up by now," Karen clicked her tongue irritably.
"Oh, uh..." Ranma chewed his lip for a moment. "Actually, I changed that around a bit. Rayden's gonna be making us something."
Karen blinked in surprise as she sat down. "Your dark paladin cooks?" She asked dubiously. "I was under the distinct impression he was hardly bright enough to know which end of the sword goes into his enemies."
Ranma couldn't help but chuckle. "Yeah, he DOES leave a pretty accurate first impression." Then he sobered slightly. "But through some bizarre combination of improbable experiences and personal trials, he apparently became a very good cook. And we picked up some cutlets on the way up here, so I figured he could make something special for us."
Karen cocked her head to the side. "Something special? Like what?" The original menu had been pan-fried sea bass steaks, which were fairly special for a group that was perpetually traveling the interior regions of Asia, even if it was frozen.
"What was it he called it? Dragon ribs dark-roasted over onions, I think," Ranma mumbled, scratching his head.
"I'm going to point out the odd things about that recipe in the order in which they alarm me," the sorceress deadpanned. "Dragon ribs? We're eating dragon?"
"Yeah. I was skeptical at first too, but that stuff is GREAT," the pigtailed man assured her.
"Okay. You also said 'dark-roasted'? What the heck does that mean?"
Ranma frowned. "I don't really know. I'm guessing he actually uses that black fire or lightning stuff to cook the meat."
"You mean like that dark beam that blasted through an ice wall and blew a juga into so many itty-bitty chunks? Is that safe?"
"Probably not," Ranma admitted, "but if Rayden's making it, I can pretty much guarantee it'll taste good, at least."
Karen gave him a half-lidded stare as she leaned back in her chair. "Ranma, you know I'd trust you with my life, but that doesn't extend to everyone who you let tag along behind you. You're not the best judge of people."
The pigtailed man shrugged. "Ray's a hard guy to judge. On the one hand, he's obviously evil and willfully follows a dark cult fully dedicated to unmotivated, hateful destruction and warfare. On the other hand, he doesn't like to fight and kill things that can't defend themselves because it's against his martial code. Hell, outside of combat, he's more rude than really evil. Besides, for whatever reason he's decided that he should do what I say, and he's proven pretty darn loyal so far."
"So you're sure he's not cooking up something poisonous and explosive that will kill us when we eat it," Karen asserted.
"Yes," Ranma said immediately. "Well, no. But I'm sure that if it does kill us, it will be an accident."
"Fabulous," the sorceress mumbled. "So how'd you meet Rayden anyway?"
"Ah, well, that's a bit of a story," Ranma mumbled. "It all began when I found this greater dryad in the forest..."

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The IEF lieutenant groaned weakly as he tried to get up from where he laid, sprawled against the railing he had slammed into. Most of his men were either clinging desperately to handholds while trying to get their hearts started again, while the others had been thrown from the transport.
He grimaced as he patted the back of his head and then noted the blood that covered his glove. He probably had a concussion, but it couldn't have been that bad if he had retained consciousness and still maintained his senses.
'I guess that damn dog talked the captain into his plan. It better work,' the officer thought ruefully. Getting a concussion and, from the look of his men, a few broken bones was preferable to being a dragon's meal, but getting wrecked and THEN becoming a dragon's meal was just unforgivable.
He started to get up, but then froze as something hissed at him to stay down.
Looking over, his eyes narrowed as he saw the werewolf sniper, looking somewhat beat-up himself, but still managing to stand easily enough as he pressed himself flat against the floor of the upper deck. Not that a little blunt trauma meant anything to a werewolf, even one as weak as the IEF ranger. Bruises and abrasions faded away under the lycanthrope's fur even as the lieutenant watched.
"FSSSSSS..." The officer froze and quickly used hand signals to any of his men that may have been watching for commands to stay prone.
Hissing dangerously, a wingless venom dragon slid its serpentine body around the transport, not bothering to attack the damaged skimmer. In another situation she might have stopped for a snack, but to attack the vehicle would probably provoke a counter-attack from the survivors, and she didn't have time to finish off the feeble creatures if she wanted to make the assault at the same time as her winged brethren.
The lieutenant looked appropriately amazed as the long, serpentine beast slipped around the transport wreckage, not even stopping to snatch up one of the bodies that had been flung entirely from the skimmer. "Well I'll be damned. They really are in a hurry"
A feral roar came from above, and human and werewolf below winced.
"Dunno what they bothered attackin' us for," a soldier mumbled as he disentangled himself from the railing. "Not like they'll get the element of surprise flying at that altitude and screaming the whole way."
"The difference between the Messiah's radar range and our position is probably a good eight, maybe ten minutes. More if the fliers are deliberately slowing themselves for the wingless dragons," Garron explained. "The IEF can make considerable preparations in ten minutes. And against serpent kings, we'll need them."
"Lieutenant!" Garron and the officer in question turned as one of the crewman emerged from the cockpit, a bit of blood on his arm but otherwise looking unscathed. "We have some good news, and we've got some bad news."
"I'm going to accept that as a positive development, seeing how the news has been all bad up to this point," the officer said. "Well? Get to it!"
"Sir! The good news is that the interference preventing us from contacting the Messiah is gone! If Sergeant Garron was correct in that it was a magnetic field originating from the earth dragon, that means the dragon is gone too!"
The lieutenant nodded. "That IS good news. And now for the letdown."
"Er, right. While the interference is gone, the communications array was damaged in the crash, so we still can't contact the sandship."
"Of course, this IS the IEF's pride and joy we're talking about; the absolute pinnacle of magitechnology!" Garron said, bigsweating as he pretended he hadn't heard the crewman. "I'm sure the Messiah can hold out just fine against a few overgrown lizards."
Once he returned his gaze to the others, he saw that all the soldiers were glaring at him. "What? At least we're safe now, right?"
"Shut up and secure the area, ranger!" The lieutenant growled, slowly standing up. "And anybody who knows a spark plug from a socket wrench, take a look at that array! I want that thing back up and running in five minutes, tops! Move it, people!"

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"I feel a great disturbance in the force..." K mumbled from atop Rayden's head.
The demon knight stopped, his hands still resting on the gurney laden with the fruits of his labors. "What's that supposed to mean? Is it one of your weird dragon senses?"
"No, not this time," K said, looking distracted. "I feel... I feel as if..." he closed his eyes for a moment, then snapped them back open. "As if someone I know is getting laid!"
Rayden sweatdropped. "Who cares?"
"Someone planning to stop by and meet with a close friend of his might care," the metadragon said, grinning. "C'mon, let's go!"
"Whoa. Hey. Wait a minute," Rayden mumbled, not budging. "When you put it that way, maybe we should come back later."
"Later? Get real! We might never have another chance to see Colonel Cold naked!" K said happily.
"I'm perfectly comfortable with that," the Dread Knight said.
K rolled his eyes. "What's with you, anyway? You can't tell me you don't want to see what little that uniform of hers covered up!"
"Actually, that's pretty much what I just told you," Rayden said, apparently firm in his resolve. "I can wait. Just use your stupid pervert senses or whatever and tell me when they're done."
K twitched, and cursed himself for his small form and inability to change into human form. Putting aside the fact that Ranma amd Karen might be at it for hours otherwise, he couldn't walk in on them without Rayden's help because he couldn't manipulate doorknobs as a dragon.
"What are you, gay?" The metadragon tried, hoping to prod Rayden into going along with it.
"No," the Dread Knight answered without further comment.
'Well, crap,' K thought. 'This loser's even deader in the pants than Ranma.' Not that Ranma was actually dead in the pants, as Natalie had happily attested to back at the Ninja camp, but what were the chances of two out his three teammates having such powerful inhibitions?
'Wait a minute. I'm thinking about this too hard. This is Rayden we're talking about.' Clearing his throat, the metadragon spoke again. "You know, now that I've had some time to mull it over, I think it's Kaze who's getting some, not Ranma."
The demon knight blinked. "Oh. Really?"
"Sure. Now hurry up and get in there before the food gets cold!" K prodded. 'Victory is mine!'

Suffice to say, as soon as Rayden opened the door to Karen's quarters and rolled the gurney in (without knocking, of course), K leapt from his head and quickly flew to a corner of the room so that he wouldn't get hit by any of the fire and ice bolts that might be flung at the dark paladin, and to get a veiw that wouldn't be obscured by those same projectiles.
He was severely disappointed when, to his surprise, Ranma and Karen were seated, inactive, and clothed. Not only that, but NO ONE threw an energy bolt at Rayden. What a waste of time!
"Dinner's here!" Rayden called without enthusiasm or ceremony as he rolled the gurney up.
Karen frowned as she looked over the food. "You could have knocked, you know..."
"Yeah, I guess I could have," the demon knight replied, dismissing the woman. "Anyway, we've got dragon ribs, steak, and some spinach and potatoes for side dishes." As he named each dish, he pulled off the metal bell lid covering it.
Karen looked appropriately surprised that everything looked and smelled quite good. "Wow. I guess you really can cook."
The demon knight glared at her. "If you can freeze things solid by yelling and pointing at them, I think I can handle sprinkling spices on chunks of meat and putting them over a heat source."
"Okay, okay! I didn't mean to offend," Karen said defensively. 'Just what is his problem?'
Ranma looked annoyed at Rayden's rudeness, but at the same time he fully expected it, so he said nothing. "It looks good, Ray."
"Good," the demon knight said simply as he finished putting the serving plates on the relatively small table. "So... should I come back later to pick up the dishes, or are you two going to be making out then?"
Ranma blanched, and Karen flushed.
"We'll take care of the dishes, thank you!" The sorceress said sharply. "You can leave now."
"With pleasure," Rayden mumbled as he turned around and left.
K glanced between the retreating dark paladin and the seated couple, trying to decide whether he should follow Rayden as he had been doing, or make lecherous cracks at Ranma until he got thrown out.
"I was talking to you, too," Karen deadpanned after noticing that the metadragon hadn't moved to leave immediately. K yelped and promptly did so.

Once the door closed, Ranma sighed. "I'm sorry about that. Like I said, Ray's pretty much an asshole to anyone who he doesn't immediately like. I'd say something about it, but... well, it's just hard to hold that against him what with the whole 'Dread Knight' thing, you know?"
Karen nodded reluctantly. "Low expectations. I understand. I have the same issues with Emrey."
"The rakshasa assassin?" Ranma stopped for a moment to fit what he knew about the demon into the context of his problem with Rayden. "So he has some annoying habits, but you're just happy as long as he's not stabbing people that bug him?"
The sorceress chuckled. "Got it in one! The man is CONSTANTLY tomcatting around the ship and any towns we stop in while on leave. If a woman who catches his eye is married or in a committed relationship, then he'll even take on the form of her lover in order to get into her pants." She frowned deeply as she served herself a steak. "He even tried that on me once. It took hours for Teema to break him out of that ice block." Then she shrugged. "But frankly, as long as he manages to keep himself from going on a killing spree every time a guy manages to pry him off of his girlfriend, I really can't expect much more of him."
Shaking her head at the foolishness of her subordinate, Karen finally steeled herself and put a forkful of steak into her mouth.
"... Wow. This really IS good," the colonel murmured, obviously impressed.
"Toldja." Ranma smirked as he grabbed a slice of rib meat. Of course, as the dragon's ribs were thicker than most lamp posts, there were no actual bones in the dish, but apparently Rayden cut up dragons just as a butcher would a cow. "Ray can actually be pretty useful as long as he has someone to tell him what to do."
Karen nodded reluctantly. "Should I be worried that tiny runes of power glowing with evil energy are inscribed on the edge of the steaks?"
Ranma stopped, took a moment to find the phenomenon on his own meat, and then cut off a section and ate it.
"Doesn't bother me."
The ponytailed girl rolled her eyes. "Okay, okay."

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K glanced around the hallway, obviously discontent. 'Damn. If Ranma isn't getting any yet, maybe I WAS getting that feeling from Kaze. For all the good that does me.' He didn't know where Kaze might be, or who might have attracted his attention.
He gave up on the idea and shifted his focus to other concerns. Kaze wasn't nearly as fun to tease anyway because the priest was so straightforward and shameless about his lecherous ways.
"Seriously man, what was your problem back there?" K asked, flying up onto Rayden's shoulder. "She didn't do anything to you, did she?"
Rayden snorted. "Besides dragging us onto this boring hulk when we SHOULD be slogging through the wastes and fighting epic battles and whatnot, no. Women just annoy me, that's all."
K frowned. He had long been under the impression that demons of any ethical persuasion were lecherous in general, and absolutely lust-crazed in the few cases that stood out. "Why?"
"They're weak, feeble creatures that just get in the way and distract men from their duties," the Dread Knight spat hatefully as he started wheeling the cart away down the hall. "They can't fight, and they're constantly complaining. If it wasn't for the whole pregnancy thing, I'd say the realms would be better off without them."
"They can't fight? Didn't a woman just kick your ass a couple hours ago?" the metadragon deadpanned.
"Well, yeah. She's an exception. And she's not bad. You know, for a girl," Rayden said.
K rolled his eyes. "You know Karen can fight too, don't you?"
"Meh. I'll believe it when I see it. She was just floating in the air watching when I saw her."
The discussion of Karen's skills would have continued further, but both dragon and demon fell silent when a squad of soldiers rounded the hall corner and jogged up to them, rifles at the ready.
The leader of the group sighted him and raised his weapon. "You there! We received a complaint about someone harrassing Colonel Molsk in her quarters!"
Rayden blinked. "Whoa. That was fast." He scratched his head, wondering when the sorceress had put in the order to have him forcibly removed. 'Must've been after I had already left. Impressive response time. Though she didn't have to get us thrown out.'
"Hey, whoa, it's cool," K said gently, trying to keep Rayden out of yet another conflict. "We were just leaving. Right?"
The dark paladin shrugged, not really caring.
The sergeant lowered his weapon, and gestured for his men to do the same. "Good. Why don't we escort you to another part of the ship? Corporal, check on the Colonel."

Down the hallway and around the corner, Emrey banged his head repeatedly against the wall in frustration. Though Ranma and Karen may be interrupted by a single man asking if things were all right, it didn't have quite the mood-shattering impact of a dozen armed men kicking down a door. 'Damnation! I should have provided a better description than "muscular fellow with black hair"!'
Stopping for a moment to massage his bruising forehead, he considered his options. "Well, there goes plan... I think it was D or E. Now what?"

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"No, I'm fine, thank you," Karen said to the man at the door, vaguely puzzled.
"Good. We'll take care of the problem," the corporal said stiffly, trying his absolute best not to let his eyes dip below his superior's chin. 'DAMN that's a nice dress...' "Enjoy your meal. Please call us if you need anything else."
"Uh, sure..." the sorceress said uncertainly, having no idea what the "problem" was, only that security had been alerted to it and taken care of it. "Dismissed, Corporal."
"Ma'am!" Nodding briefly (and taking the opportunity to finally ogle her body), the guard exited the room, deeply envying the pigtailed fellow still seated at the table within.

"What was that all about?" Ranma mumbled as he paused in his meal.
Karen shrugged as she seated herself. "I don't really know. I guess there was some joker in the hall causing trouble."
Ranma's face darkened immediately. "Rayden..."
"Probably," the sorceress admitted. "But apparently he's not picking any fights with security, so they're going to drop him off at the lounge instead of the brig. He'll be fine."
Ranma was really more worried about Rayden killing a good number of soldiers and blowing a hole in the Messiah than he was about the Dread Knight's personal welfare, but accepted that everything would be fine as he went back to eating.
As one would expect, the pigtailed wanderer finished eating his third helping just as Karen finished her first, long used to stuffing himself as quickly as possible while on the road (the unspoken rule was that extra helpings around the campfire were "first come, first serve," and Rayden was a vicious diner).
Rubbing his feet together uncomfortably, Ranma finally broke the silence just as Karen was reaching for another potato.
"So, Karen... have you... uh... dated much these past few years?" Ranma began, cursing internally when the woman froze up. 'One of these days I have to get a rank in diplomacy. Seriously, this is weak.'
Karen frowned for a moment, mulling the question over. Eventually, she decided to dispense with the subtle banter (Ranma sucked at that anyway) and cut to the heart of the matter. "Why would you ask me that?"
"Uhm... I'm just... trying to catch up with you?" He tried lamely.
"Don't give me that," the sorceress deadpanned. "If you don't want to tell me, fine. No, I'm not currently attached."
Ranma briefly wondered at the fact that she had answered a different question from the one he had asked, but plowed ahead regardless. "Really? Why not?"
Karen's frown became more uncertain. "What do you mean?"
"Well, come on, you're a pretty good catch," Ranma said bluntly. "You're smart, beautiful, powerful, and I imagine you're pretty wealthy too. I'd think that you'd have guys lining up to be your husband."
THAT set off a few alarms in Karen's head. 'Now it's not just dating, but marriage?' His glowing endorsement of her aside, she was worried about where this was going. "Well, I spend nearly all my time on the battlefield, since I waived the normal tour of duty rotation. I don't have much time to meet men outside of the military, and dating within it is against regulations." She didn't bring up the fact that despite the regulations, many of her subordinates tried their luck anyway. And she CERTAINLY wasn't about to mention the precious few times that she gave in to temptation and accepted their advances. "Ranma, seriously, why are you asking me this?"
Ranma sighed. "Look, Karen, I know our relationship is kind of... unclear. At least, it is to me. I don't really know where we stand with each other or what you expect from me."
'Ah, there we go. Bluntness,' Karen thought as she mulled over Ranma's statement. She decided an equally blunt response was warranted. "Ranma, do you want to have sex with me?"
Ranma had been holding onto his water glass the whole time to keep from fiddling with his hands; a decision that had seemed smart and tactful before his grip around the glass tightened, instantly shattering it and grinding it into so many little shards.
The pain was negligible, and Karen had been expecting a shocked reaction, so crushing the glass didn't even provide a momentary distraction from the current turn of events. "Uhm... w-well..." Ranma's pigtail was standing on end as he searched for something appropriate to say that wouldn't seem shallow or offend the woman across from him. "There's no easy way to answer that question," he finally said nervously.
"Translation: Yes, but..." Karen prompted, leaning back as she crossed her arms under her breasts.
"But... uh... I'm not sure it's a good idea," he said, slightly subdued by how she was taking control of the conversation.
"Well, I think it IS a good idea," Karen said stubbornly. She might have found the conversation odd normally, but she knew Ranma very well. He never took advantage of a girl; though if the girl was determined, she might take advantage of him. She was QUITE determined.
The pigtailed man sighed again, rubbing his head. "Karen... you mean a lot to me. More than just a girlfriend. Especially one who I hardly ever see." He frowned, obviously frustrated in trying to express himself. "You deserve someone for yourself, who'll stick by you all the time and settle down with you. I can't do that for you. I just stop by when I need work or need a favor, and then I'm off to the next battlefield."
The sorceress was silent for several moments. "Maybe you're right. But what about you? Don't you deserve to have someone? At least for one night?" She asked neutrally, her expression betraying nothing.
Ranma just BARELY stopped himself before he said "I could have anyone I want" or "I have someone in damn near every town I visit." There were limits to even his social ineptitude. Instead he struggled for a few more seconds, and then said, "I guess. I'll figure that out on my own. But you're too important to me for me to risk hurting you. You're a great friend, and I feel like a total jerk just showing up and then leaving you whenever it's convenient. Maybe it would be better if we just stayed friends, you know?"
Again, Karen remained silent for a few moments. Then she sighed and stood up. "I can see where you're coming from," she admitted as she walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Honestly, the idea had crossed my mind as well." Then she pursed her lips. "Still..."
Then she yanked him out of his chair and pulled him into a passionate embrace, kissing him deeply.
Ranma was surprised enough that he didn't catch his footing fully as he was pulled toward her lips, and he didn't provide any resistance as Karen suddenly pushed him away and onto her bed.
"You know, it would be a lot easier not to seduce you if you didn't always care so damn much. It's a real turn-on," the sorceress said almost conversationally as she slipped the straps of her gown off her shoulders.
'Man, things ALWAYS end up like this. Why do I even fight it?' Resigning himself to his admittedly pleasurable fate, he started to take off his shirt.

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"I'm telling you, we need to be on full alert!" Emrey protested hotly to the man in front of him, fuming at the individual's stubbornness.
This particular individual was Jacob Yakowski, Captain of the Sandship Epsilon. And he was currently fighting off a headache as he tried to wave off the rakshasa. "I told you that I'd take your report under advisement," he said gruffly. "The turrets will be manned, and I've already sent the order to have fighters and hovercraft prepared for a defensive engagement. But I cannot justify putting the entire ship on full alert because of a single, random unconfirmed report of an incoming enemy force." 'Especially one from a demon,' he added mentally, narrowing his eyes.
Emrey winced. "I, uh, I didn't say it was necessarily INCOMING... but it's definitely out there!"
The captain snorted. "All the more reason not to fly off the handle. Besides, what were you doing routine scouting outside of radar range in the first place? Aren't you a commando?"
"Assassin, technically," the rakshasa said shamelessly, not bothering to use the euphemism for his area of specialization. "And I was just searching the area to look for remnants of the force we broke in the recent operation. How was I supposed to know there were so many survivors?"
"Fine. So why're you taking this to me, instead of your CO or General Kitinski?" Captain Yakowski asked suspiciously.
Emrey twitched. "They were... occupied," he mumbled. Of course, June Kitinski and possibly Karen Molsk were both heartily engaged in lewd activities that he sorely wished to be involved in, and any interruption would most likely end with his untimely death by magical bombardment. Of course, there were other officers on board with equal authority, but he had a somewhat tarnished reputation among the upper ranks due to several indiscretions concerning a Colonel's wife and another one's youngest daughter. They might not be nearly so willing to put up with him as the captain of the ship.
"Bah, whatever," the captain said, waving the demon away. "Now if you'll excuse me Lieutenant, I must-"
"CAPTAIN!" A communications officer yelled as he barged into the strategy room, looking pale. "We just received contact from the transport skimmer! They encountered an enemy force en route to our location!"
The captain blinked, obviously surprised. Emrey simply nodded somberly, expertly masking his utter shock.
"How come they haven't contacted us until now?" the captain asked uneasily, wondering how Emrey found the enemy and got back to the Messiah before the transport had sent word.
"The transport crashed and wrecked their comm array," the man said, still shaking slightly.
'Whatever god may or may not be responsible for this: THANK YOU! Thank you thank you thank you!' Emrey said, a tear sliding down his cheek as his plan meshed beautifully with sheer coincidence.
"Captain," the communications officer said shakily, "the enemy force is a group of dragons. At least fifteen strong, by their count."
'A slight revision,' Emrey thought as several more tears streamed down his cheeks. 'I hate you, God.' Finding out that his fake warning coincided with a real attack was rather satisfying, but he'd much rather let the object of his lust screw the brains out of her old boyfriend than fight a single dragon, never mind a whole flight of them.
"Dragons? Why didn't you tell me they were dragons?" The captain snapped at the rakshasa before turning back to the communications officer. "Reel in the hovercraft and move the artillery and combat mechs out to a position in the hills! Prepare all fighters and precision bombers!" Then he turned toward the door. "COMMANDER!!"
The sound of running could soon be heard, and another officer stumbled into the strategy room, nearly tripping as he tried to slow himself. "C-Captain?"
"Put the Messiah on full alert! Arm all weapons and feed auxiliary power to the shields! Expect radar contacts from the southwest!"
"Yes, Captain!" The commander saluted hastily and dashed off toward the bridge.
Captain Jacob Yakowski turned toward Emrey and wet his lips as he grasped for something to say. "It... appears I misjudged you," he finally admitted, "and I apologize. Sometimes it's easy to forget that no matter your species or reputation, you're a part of the IEF nonetheless."
"Ah. Right. No harm done, I suppose," the rakshasa said vacantly. 'Damn! What did that speeder pilot look like again? Maybe if I take his form and tell the hangar chief that I'm on a rescue mission for the skimmer I can get out of here...'
"Your warning may save hundreds, perhaps even thousands of lives today," Captain Yakowski said as he took the lieutenant by the shoulder and pulled him toward the bridge. "I'll make sure to put in a good word with your superior after the battle."
'Huh. On second thought, what if they survive? Maybe I should wait around the hangar to see how the battle goes before leaving.'
"Now if you'll excuse me Lieutenant, I have to get back to the bridge," the captain said as he let the rakshasa go. "You'll be in charge of defending the shield generator from boarding actions. I'll send word to the men to expect you."
'I hate my life,' Emrey thought, silent tears streaming down his cheeks. 'But I still don't want it to end so soon!'

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ALERT! ALERT! ALL HANDS TO BATTLESTATIONS! THIS IS NOT A DRILL! REPEAT: THIS IS NOT A DRILL!

June glanced up at the loudspeaker lazily, then slowly sat up, allowing the sheets to slide down off her body.
Kaze didn't bother to look at the speaker, instead openly admiring the general's exposed, golden body with his arms resting under his head. "That sounds important."
"It probably is," the sorceress said, crouching down to collect her clothing. "It's just as well. I was never that fond of cuddling."
Kaze sweatdropped as he watched the general dress herself. 'Just as well that we're being attacked?' "You're an odd woman, you know that?"
"And you're a terrible excuse for a priest," June said, smirking as she pulled her leotard uniform up.

ALL HANDS, REPORT TO BATTLESTATIONS! THIS IS A CODE RED! INCOMING ENEMY FORCE CONSISTS OF OMEGA CLASS WARBEASTS! THIS IS NOT A DRILL!

June frowned, then turned to her recent lover. "That's unfortunate. We could likely use some help for this."
"What's an 'omega class warbeast'?" Kaze asked dubiously, quite wary of promising his help in warding off a foe that challenged a small army and massive mobile fortress.
"It's a code for gargantuan creatures such as reaper queens, wyrms..." she raised an eyebrow. "And dragons. Hmm..."
Kaze sighed. "I'll pass, thanks. I'm no good against dragons."
"Hmph. Coward," June spat as she finished with her boots and reached for her cape.
"You took me to your room because I'm an empathetic and persuasive speaker, not because I'll stupidly challenge creatures way beyond my level," the cleric reminded her. "If you want a brave man, I wouldn't be too heartbroken to set you up with my companions."
The general rolled her eyes. "I'll pass, thank you. You should get some rest, then. You were quite energetic."
"I doubt I will with all this racket," Kaze mumbled. "But nonetheless, good luck. If you see my friends out there helping to defend your ship, please don't 'accidentally' vaporize them."
"No promises," June said jokingly, smiling slightly. "See you in a bit, clown."

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Karen clenched her teeth in frustration, and her hands gripped the sheets under her tightly as her entire body began to glow a bright, frosty blue.
ALERT! ALERT! ALL HANDS TO BATTLESTATIONS! THIS IS NOT A DRILL! REPEAT: THIS IS NOT A DRILL!
"Uh, Karen? You're getting kind of cold," Ranma said gently as the naked woman straddling him trembled in barely-restrained fury. Her rage, far from creating a hot aura, fed through her magical aura and immediately began sapping the heat from the surrounding area... including the unfortunate body pinned underneath her.
The IEF colonel took several deep breaths, forcing her magic to subside. "It's... It's okay," she mumbled. "We can... continue this later. It would seem we're under attack."
Ranma nodded somberly, sliding out from under her. "I gotcha. I'll do what I can."
"You don't need to bother," Karen said absently as she slid her legs over so that they dangled over the edge of the bed. "We've got a full army and dozens of defensive weapons and measures. Whatever's attacking, we'll take care of it in no time."
Ranma frowned. "Well... even so, I want to help. If I can save even one soldier's life, then it's better than just lying here."
Karen stared at him from the edge of the bed for a long moment. Then she grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him down onto his back again, kissing him deeply.
Ranma was receptive despite his surprise, but when she broke the kiss he looked confused. "K-Karen? What about-"
"I'm sure they'll be fine without me," Karen said between pants as she pressed her body against his, moaning lightly at the warmth that encompassed her from the contact. "Like I said, the enemy will be no problem. What kind of force could possibly challenge us?"
ALL HANDS, REPORT TO BATTLESTATIONS! THIS IS A CODE RED! INCOMING ENEMY FORCE CONSISTS OF OMEGA CLASS WARBEASTS! THIS IS NOT A DRILL!
Ranma yelped as Karen's aura returned full force, and her eyes briefly flashed a pale blue.
"SON OF A BITCH!" She screamed, punching the mattress next to Ranma's head.
KA-SSSHNK!
Karen blinked repeatedly as she felt some of her frustration evaporate from the release of energy, and then she flushed as she realized that she had just sealed her bed in a thin layer of ice... and Ranma as well. "Oops! Sorry!"
Ranma groaned as he powered up his fire aura to melt the ice around him. 'Why me?'

End Chapter 12