Wednesday's Child
Twenty-Eight: Reconstruction
February 1st, 2012
Colonel Tendo Nabiki pushed her chair back from her desk and sighed.
It's times like this that I really think that the world is populated with two kinds of people. Idiots...and me.
Stupidity was cropping up all over the world, it seemed. And there weren't really enough people left to allow this sort of idiocy. Kamjin's bombardment of Earth had left between five hundred thousand and one million Humans worldwide - figures were vague because transportation and computing power had become somewhat scarce - plus about twice that many Zentraedi. The largest known concentration of Humans was at Macross City, at the former site of Elmendorf Air Force Base.
The environmental aftereffects of the Holocaust had yet to be fully experienced; it had been two years since the end of the war, well into Alaska's winter, and yet the weather outside was about like that of an early spring day in her native Japan. Despite only receiving a half-hour of direct sunlight, perhaps three hours of over-the-horizon illumination from the sun. And it didn't get much colder at night. It spelled global warming, though Nabiki would have bet on a minor ice age after the global devastation the planet had endured.
And in the wake of this drastically reduced population and environmental concerns, what were the good people of Macross City most worked up over?
Politics.
There was a knock at the door, and she looked up in irritation. Well, further irritation.
"Come."
No powered pocket doors anymore; this one was simple wood, with an old-fashioned doorknob. Misa stepped through and closed it behind her. Nabiki grinned; she and Misa had become quite close in the last year.
"Well, if it isn't my second favourite Colonel."
Misa raised an eyebrow. "And your favourite is?"
"Me, of course." Nabiki indicated a chair. "Grab a seat."
"Thanks." Misa collapsed into the chair. "Anything new from the recon teams?"
"Well, we had one minor thing," she said. "Though I'd page you if they had anything really pressing."
"I know that," snapped Misa. Then winced, and rubbed her forehead. "Sorry. Those boneheads in the Town Council—"
"I was just pondering that, actually," said Nabiki. "Kirika tells me that the Opposition's latest move is to try for a vote of No Confidence in Admiral Global." She snorted. "Which is just stupid."
"I know," said Misa. "Global's the only one who's keeping things together. To get rid of him would destabilize the alliance with the Zentraedi, alienate the U. N. Spacy relief forces, and cause a power vacuum that this society wouldn't long survive."
"Actually, I was thinking along somewhat different lines," admitted Nabiki. "Such as the fact that under United Nations Articles, Global's got absolute authority, as he's the highest-ranking member of the U. N. that's still alive. Not to mention, he's got all the guns."
"Peace through superior firepower?" Misa snorted. "He'd never turn to such tactics."
"Not willingly, no."
Misa paused. "Do you mean to say that he might be forced to use military resources to control the political situation?"
"Oh, very easily," said Nabiki. "However, I've got my girls working behind the scenes to prevent it from happening. I'd be lying if I said I could guarantee it wouldn't happen, though." She sighed. "But back to your original question. The recon flights. Commander Jenius reported finding a settlement near what used to be Nelson that survived the bombardment. Maybe five hundred people. However, they didn't seem terribly interested in signing up with us." Her lips twiched in false mirth. "I believe that their mayor said, 'You guys brought this on yourselves.'"
"Great."
"Max also noticed that there were several full-sized Zentraedi living in the community. Kind of hard to keep something like that under wraps." Nabiki paused. "I doubt that the community poses any kind of security threat, but having non-Micloned Zentraedi wandering around a settlement that has no protection from the U. N. Spacy makes me a bit..."
"We can't be everywhere," objected Misa. "And if they rejected any help from us—"
"Didn't say that," said Nabiki,then shrugged. "Okay, maybe I was less than clear. They don't want to join the U. N. However, they offered to trade, offering food—which we badly need—in exchange for medical supplies and a water treatment system." She chewed her lip. "They also insisted on maintaining 'neutrality and independance', their words."
"Joy."
Nabiki raised an eyebrow at her choice of word, but declined to comment. "At any rate, the end result is that we've got a reasonably peaceful neighbour, who's willing to trade, but isn't willing to have armoured units watching over them. They don't want to return to the U. N., and I can't say as I blame them."
Milia completed the kata, dropping back into the starting position. Her breathing was a bit heavy, and she could feel her pulse at fifteen percent higher than normal.
Good. But something is...wrong.
The kata had not been as seamless as when Ranma had done it. Granted, he'd been doing this since he could walk, but she had quite a bit of combat experience as well. Probably as much as him, though she was uncertain of the conversion of time rates.
But she was experienced enough to know that she was doing this kata incorrectly.
Maybe it's because it wasn't designed with me in mind... She swept a bang absentmindedly out of her eyes, scowling as she realized that one of her barettes had come loose. Then paused, and realized what was wrong.
Her hair was loose. It had regrown to just past shoulder length, but Ranma always wore his bound. She pulled an elastic from her pocket, and pulled her hair back into a rough ponytail. Then paused, and quickly braided it, putting the elastic at the end to hold the pigtail in place.
She snapped back into the kata, and this time, it worked beautifully. The green silk shirt snapped with each punch, the black silk pants crackled with each kick. She came to the end again, a feeling of satisfaction rising up in her, and stood upright, her hands coming to rest on her hips.
Yes. That time, it was right.
There was a gasp from the door, and Milia turned, her hands instinctively coming back up to a ready position.
Hayase Misa stood there, eyes wide and fists balled at her side. Milia relaxed her guard somewhat; the taller woman was not at the same level as she was for physical combat skills, but she wore her gi, and Master Saotome had drilled it into her over and over that even in the dojo, there would be no warning before an attack. And he had trained this Human warrior for longer than he had herself.
They held the scene for long moments, then Hayase cleared her throat.
"Your form is very good. On par with his, even."
"Thank you." Milia relaxed her guard. "It took me some effort to master this kata."
"Do you find that dressing like him, even down to the hairstyle, helps?"
Milia frowned. The other woman's body language was radiating tension and bitterness, and she had no idea why. What cause had she given Misa to be angry with her?
"Master Saotome developed this kata while wearing clothing similar to this, and while wearing her hair bound. It became apparent to me that I could not perform it properly without dressing, and binding my hair, in the same manner."
This seemed to calm Misa down, even producing a wry chuckle. "Makes sense, I guess."
"I assume that you are here for training?"
Misa nodded. "Just like I do every day. Just like you do."
"Then Master Saotome has failed to contact you." Milia paused to pick up a water bottle. "Skull Leader Ichigyo has requested his assistance with matters related to the squadron, and he will be unable to meet with us today." She took a long pull from the bottle.
"I forgot to check my messages." Misa sighed. "Well, missing one day of training isn't going to turn me into a complete wimp."
Milia set down the bottle. "If you wish, we can spar."
Misa considered this, then nodded. "Very well."
"Excuse me. Commander Saotome?"
Ranma looked up from the clipboard. "Yeah? Hey, Nabs."
"Don't call me that." Nabiki crossed her arms, the file folder in her right hand slipping under her left arm. "How close are you to finishing this up?"
"Dunno." Ranma glanced over at Ichigyo. "Hikaru? You got anything else ya wanna say before I sign this off?"
"No," admitted Ichigyo. "I think we've covered everything we need to do."
"Okay." Ranma scrawled his signature at the bottom of the page, then pushed it back to his superior. "I think we should set up an overflight of Yellowknife. See if there's anyone on the ground there."
"No problem." Ichigyo nodded. "Bravo needs the stick time."
"And what are the chances we can get someone out as far as Toronto?"
Ichigyo bit his lip. "Kind of slim. That's well outside a Valkyrie's range, even with FAST packs and extra gas tanks. We could probably do it with tanker support, but—"
Nabiki raised a hand. "Excuse me. Can't the Valkyrie run on just air for its reaction mass?"
Ichigyo snorted. "Sure, if you want to take three times as long to get there. The Valkyrie can't go supersonic on air alone; it needs something for proper reaction mass."
Ranma frowned. "What about a fuel depot? We can land a Valkyrie just about anywhere; send a couple of Glamours in with extra fuel and a few Destroids for security."
"And then we're talking about a lot of metal for one hop," argued Ichigyo.
"It might be worth it," said Ranma. "I'll check out the numbers, get back to you on that."
"Okay." Ichigyo jotted a note down on his palmtop, then slipped it into his pocket. "Anything else?"
"Naw, I think that'll do for now, boss."
Ichigyo nodded, stood, and left the ready room. Ranma watched until he was out of sight, then turned to Nabiki. "So what's up?"
"I was talking to your ex about the town your pilots turned up," said Nabiki.
"Oh." Ranma rolled his eyes. "Idiots, those guys are. They ain't got no defenses to speak of, an' we've gotten reports of rogue Zentraedi wanderin' that area."
"They didn't feel the need to sign on with us. I'm guessing that they don't feel they need our protection."
"Because they got a couple of big guys in there," said Ranma.
"And if a rogue turns up with even just a Battle Pod," pointed out Nabiki, "those Zentraedi will be sitting ducks."
Ranma shrugged. "They've made their decision. We should respect that, even if we think they're idiots."
"While we're on the subject of being an idiot." Nabiki grinned. "I was looking through your records yesterday."
"Why do I have the feeling I'm going to regret asking why?"
"Are you familiar with project THUNDERBIRD?"
"Yeah." He nodded warily. "Back in 0h-Five, when I was posted to South Ataria. It was part of PAINTED GLOVE. The part that got dropped."
"Well, it seems that the work wasn't completely abandoned." Nabiki dropped the file folder on the desk in front of him. "They dusted it off about a year before the Holocaust, and completely re-tooled it."
Ranma raised an eyebrow. "I was supposed to fly test-pilot on THUNDERBIRD, but it never materialized, and I got posted to FIREBIRD instead." He picked up the file folder, and flipped it open. "Wonder how far they got..."
"Quite some distance," said Nabiki. "Global ordered the project restarted about eight months ago. The Valkyries are starting to show their age."
"Dual high-power LASER cannon, one each per wing...hard point for GU-11 or GU-12 cannon...Internal weapons bays hold six GA-23 or two GA-31 weapons each side, plus six conformal GA-23 mountings." He flipped past the specifications sheet, and examined the concept art. "Looks like a piece of crap, but then, the Valkyrie ain't exactly a glamour jet either."
"They finished the wind-tunnel testing two weeks ago, and are currently working on the prototype," said Nabiki. "And they want you to test-pilot the bird."
Ranma glanced up. "Really?"
"Well...I want you to test-pilot it."
"Why's that?"
"Getting back to your records. You realize, don't you, that you're never going to advance beyond command of a Flight, correct?"
"I was kinda gettin' that picture," he admitted. "The brass seems to think I've topped out here."
"If it weren't for the pressure of a shooting war, you'd never have made it this far." Nabiki tapped the folder. "That's why you were selected for PAINTED GLOVE. You were too good an aviator to waste, but not a good enough soldier to advance."
Ranma nodded warily.
"But a test pilot has to think outside the box, has to live at the edge of the envelope...just like you always have." Nabiki smirked. "Plus, Tennasaono hasn't been able to get a foot in on this project yet."
"Oho!" Ranma grinned. "Now I see. You want information on the project that you can't get!"
"Anyway, if you want in, I'll submit your name to the selection board—through a cut-out, of course—with enthusiastic recommendation. Do you want the job?"
"Sure." Ranma shrugged. "But I'm doin' it for the flyin', not to help you out."
"Fine." Nabiki rolled her eyes. "Have you got the most recent recon data?"
"Yeah, around here somewhere." Ranma dug through the stack of papers on the table, extracted a folder. "I got an electronic copy somewhere, too. I can eMail it to ya."
"No, bring that along," said Nabiki. "I want a chance to go over it with you."
Misa winced as she placed the ice pack against her cheek. Milia had pulled the punch, but she had been moving the wrong direction for the other woman to completely pull it, and she'd gotten tagged a bit harder than Milia had intended.
"Luckily, the skin was not broken," offered Milia. "You shouldn't suffer too much bruising, either."
"It still doesn't feel very good," quipped Misa.
"The orbital ridge is sensitive to impact." Milia sat down on the bench beside her. Misa noted the way she was favouring her left side; though Milia had out-scored her during the sparring match, she hadn't escaped unscathed.
She found herself wishing she'd hurt Milia more severely, then castigated herself severely for the thought.
Ranma and I broke up, two years ago now! And he's not seeing anyone else—certainly wouldn't be seeing Milia. Hell, he's terribly uncomfortable around her.
"Well, I must thank you for the workout." Even in the midst of her bitterness, Misa was willing to be polite. Especially if Milia had done nothing to earn her ire, save to be herself. "Even Ranma won't go all-out against me."
"I was not going all-out," objected Milia.
"Yeah, but unlike him, you had to work for the win." Misa chuckled. "Pretty soon, you'll be as good as he is."
Milia shook her head. "No. I doubt highly that I will ever be a suitable match for Ranma, though I shall never cease trying."
Misa bristled, then forced herself to relax. She's talking about combat skill!
"I think you're selling yourself short," she said. "I mean, he's had very intense training, but even you can't say how long you've been fighting."
Milia raised an eyebrow, glanced over at her. "It is true that I am somewhat older than a Human of my appearance might be. I am starting to understand Earth measurements of time, as they relate to Zentraedi measures. I am probably closer to his age than to yours."
Again, Misa had to bite back a sharp reply.
Milia stretched. "I must thank you as well. Sparring is always more entertaining when one has an opponent. But I must report for my classes now."
"Classes?" Misa frowned. "You're going back to school?"
Milia smirked. "Considering what the Zentraedi use in place of an educational system, I do not think that 'back' is the proper term."
"VC-134, this is Skull Thirteen." Ranma frowned at his sensory display, hoped that he was reading it wrong. "I'm showing three active fusion sources ahead, along with the occasional field-effect that looks like neutral particle beam weaponry. My flight will close to investigate. Recommend you fall back."
"Noted, Thirteen." The VC-33 transport pilot affected a laconic drawl—they all did—that nearly concealed the wariness that he must be feeling.
"Skull Flight, throttles to max." Ranma advanced his throttles to maximum. He glanced left and right, noted that the other two pilots were matching his acceleration. They quickly left Transport Flight VC-134 behind. Ranma switched his AWG-33 fire control system to tracking mode, and quickly picked up three active combat robots. The computer needed perhaps half a second to identify all three as standard Regult Battle Pods.
"Skull Thirteen, Skull Fourteen. I've got three Battle Pods wreaking havoc up ahead."
"Yeah, I got 'em." Ranma frowned; how best to approach this? "Shift to GERWALK, decrease altitude to five meters. We'll come in under their radar."
"Roger."
The three Valkyries shifted, and dropped down to the dry lake-bed beneath them. At such low altitudes, the blast of the engines formed the ground-effect cushion that gave the GERWALK-mode Valkyrie formidable terrain-hugging advantages.
Not that there's a heck of a lot of terrain to hug.
The closest of the Battle Pods was twenty degrees off his course. Almost without conscious thought, Ranma's thumb tapped the Jettison button, and the GU-11 popped free from its centerline station. His Valkyrie's right hand snagged the gun, and he jerked the trigger once. The gun pod coughed out a twenty-round burst, tearing the leg off the Battle Pod at the knee.
He leaned into the left rudder paddle, and his Valkyrie slid to the left. The reconfigured throttle was jerked to the side, raising the GERWALK's metal arm straight out, and he clotheslined the second Pod across the legs.
His left hand slapped the reconfiguration controls, and the Valkyrie began to fold, still not losing any speed. A quick jerk upward on the right paddle, and the leg rose, still blasting away at full power. He pulled back hard, and as the Valkyrie completed its reconfiguration, the right foot slammed into the back of the third Pod, cutting its power link to the reactor and dropping it as though its strings had been cut.
The Valkyrie touched down, and Ranma thumbed his mike. "All three pods are down. Keep an eye on 'em."
"Roger."
He walked the robot over to the nearest fallen Pod, and slung the cannon. Massive steel hands ripped the entry hatch open, and the Zentraedi within opened fire with his sidearm.
It was a valiant effort, but largely futile. Ranma grabbed the pistol before it could do much more than wreck his paint job, and crushed it like a beer can. He flipped on the external speakers.
"Get out of the Pod, buddy."
Misa stirred her tea idly with one finger, barely registering the scalding heat. "We tried it once, and it didn't work."
Claudia snorted. "Oh, don't be stupid. And get your finger out of your tea before you do some permanent damage!"
Misa glanced down in distracted surprise. "Ow." She pulled her finger from the tea and sucked on it absently.
"Both of you were under a lot of stress," said Claudia. "You because you were XO, and him because he was flying combat constantly. Plus you, my dear—" She pointed accusingly at Misa. "—have a tendency to fly off the handle at any little thing."
"We had...underlying difficulties, too," pointed out Misa. "I was expecting too much from him, given his past...problems. And I mistook his concern for me for him trying to control me. And I wasn't able to see that what we had was pretty good...better than I deserved."
"You know what I see going on here?" Claudia shook her head in disgust. "I see you making up excuses. Has he told you he doesn't want to get back together with you?"
"No, but—"
"Have you even talked to him?" Claudia waited a few seconds, then snorted. "I thought not."
"He said that we were still friends, and that we should stay that way," mumbled Misa.
"When did he say that?"
"The day we broke up."
Claudia rolled her eyes. "Listen, Misa. I've had just a bit more experience dating jet jockeys than you. And I've learned to spot important cues. Here's a big one: Have you seen Ranma out and about with any other woman?"
"He—"
"I know," said Claudia. "Private person, doesn't want to be chased by women, yadda yadda...but the simple fact is that jet jockeys gravitate towards women. And vice versa."
"But I've never seen other women—"
"Minmay," interrupted Claudia.
"Minmay?" laughed Misa. She shook her head. "She's got a bad case of hero worship, but—"
"Hero worship doesn't quite cover it," said Claudia. "You've forgotten how young Minmay was when she met him. Or rather, her; it was a few months before Minmay found out he was a guy. You do recall, do you not, how she was constantly hanging off him?" Claudia paused to sip her tea. "She took to splashing him with water, because she was too shy to do anything like that with his male half."
"It's a shame we lost Doctor Wood," observed Misa. "But obviously, you've stepped into her shoes."
Claudia snorted. "The signs were all there, if one merely had the ability to look for them. But neither you nor Ranma ever saw them."
"We had other concerns," quipped Misa.
"Well, here's one you should have thought of earlier. She's nineteen now, with a singing career and a lot more experience under her belt. Plus, she's had to deal with her asshole cousin for the last two years." Claudia shook her head. "Unless I'm very wrong, I doubt that she's going to be playing the shy little girl any more."
The night was cool, but given the date and the latitude, it should have been a lot colder. Ranma had done up his jacket, but didn't bother with a scarf or hat.
The townsfolk of Grant had decided, after their run-in with the rogue Zentraedi, that perhaps having the U. N. Spacy around might not be such a bad thing. It relieved Ranma of the need to carry out Nabiki's possibly illegal orders.
"Dammit!"
Ranma glanced up at the familiar voice. Ling Kaifunn—what the heck is he doin' here? He was out of sight, probably behind one of the big boulders that littered the area.
There was a long pause, then Kaifunn resumed speaking. "What a miserable little town."
Minmay's voice answered him. "You've had too much to drink again."
Again?
"All those people there, and this is all they can manage to give us?" There was a sound of glass and metal.
"They didn't have to give me anything." Minmay's voice was tired.
"You're a professional," stated Kaifunn. "You don't sing for free."
"Why not?" There was more animation in her voice now. "I sing to make people happy." She paused. "It'd feel strange to try to ask them to give more, when they barely have enough to get by as it is."
"We have to make a living," said Kaifunn. "What's wrong with getting what we can?"
"These people have enough trouble just surviving," said Minmay. "We should be thankful that we got anything at all."
"We should be thankful for handouts?" Kaifunn's voice had risen to a shout. "Dammit—"
The sound of shattering glass propelled Ranma into motion. He casually hopped over the boulder, alighting next to the arguing couple. "Yo. Minmay."
"Ranma!" Minmay smiled. "It's been almost three months—"
Kaifunn eyed Ranma. "Butt out, soldier boy. We don't need any help from you."
"Wasn't talkin' to you." Ranma turned back to Minmay. "This guy botherin' you?"
"A bit, yes," admitted Minmay. "In fact, I was just thinking that we should go our separate ways, Kaifunn."
Kaifunn gaped at her. "You're leaving...with him?"
"The U. N. Spacy is trying to rebuild the world," said Minmay frostily.
"Let's not forget," said Kaifunn, "that it's their fault it's like this in the first place!"
"Goodbye, Kaifunn," said Minmay sadly. "Perhaps we can work together in the future, if you can stop drinking."
The flight back to Macross City was quiet. Minmay was wedged back in the storage compartment of Hawkwing, which was not the most comfortable place to ride. Ranma had handed her a spare helmet, with intercom, but she'd been apparently lost in her thoughts. It was not until Ranma was in the landing pattern that he broke the silence.
"What will you do now?"
"I don't know," admitted Minmay. "There must be an entertainment industry in Macross. Perhaps I can find work there."
"What about a place to stay?" asked Ranma. "We don't have any hotels; Macross City is largely a military base."
"I don't know," said Minmay.
"Skull Thirteen, come right to fifteen degrees and descend to Angels Ten."
Ranma nosed the airplane down, following the ATC's instructions. "You can stay at my place," he offered. "I've got a couch. I can crash on that, and you can have the bed."
"I wouldn't want to put you out—"
"It's strictly temporary," said Ranma quickly. "Nabs owes me a favour, an' I'm pretty sure I can get you set up in base housing. In fact, I should be able to get you your own place for tomorrow night."
There was a pause before her voice came back over the intercom. "All right. I'll take you up on that."
"I don't think we'll have any problem with that," said Nabiki. She paused to drain her teacup. "Of course, base housing isn't that great—"
Ranma shrugged. "I make do."
"You also spent ten years living on the road," pointed out Nabiki. "Not exactly a civilized way to grow up. That first night you were at our place, you didn't even remember to put the sign out when you went for a bath."
"Do you think it would have stopped her?" asked Ranma. "She still thought I was a girl!"
"Who?" asked Minmay.
"My wife," said Ranma. "Except we weren't married at the time, or even engaged. Yet."
Nabiki chuckled. "Anyway, as you guessed, Ranma, we certainly can't do it tonight, but I know of an unallocated unit near yours. Unfurnished and no power as of yet, but I can get an engineer in there to install the solar panels, and then she's set." She paused again, and scowled at her teacup. "I really miss Kasumi at times...she made the best tea." She looked up. "What are you doing for tonight, Minmay?"
"Ranma offered his place," said Minmay. "He said he'd let me sleep on the couch."
"No," said Ranma. "I said I'd take the couch, and you can have the bed."
"I don't want to—"
"We've been over that," said Ranma. "Besides, like Nabs said, I used to sleep on the ground, did it for ten years. An' I was a Marine for ten more years, an' they don't live much better." He snorted. "Even a military-issue mattress is like livin' soft."
"Well," said Nabiki. "I've got the documents here to get her installed in her own apartment, so while we fill them out, Ranma, why don't you run back to your quarters and get them cleaned up?"
"As if they ain't spotless," grumbled Ranma.
"Girl talk, kiddo," said Nabiki sweetly. "Get lost for a while."
Misa paused as the door of Nabiki's prefab started to open, and ducked back into the shadows. She wasn't certain why she did so, but was rather glad she did when she saw Ranma emerge from the apartment. He pulled his jacket shut against the cool night wind, and started jogging towards his own prefab.
What the hell was he doing there?
Her mind jumped back two and a half years, to something Nabiki had told her then.
"You know," she said brightly, "I was planning to steal him away from you."
Did I...did I wait too long? Nabiki all but said that only the fact that he and I were together was holding her back.
Her frown deepened.
No, if they were dating, the grapevine would have reported it to me. In all possible cruel detail.
She looked up again, but Ranma was not noted for moving slowly; he was already out of sight. She started towards his apartment. She still had a chance, if she were willing to take it.
Somehow, she'd beaten him to his apartment. He must have stopped at a corner store, or something, she mused. His windows were still dark, and there was no answer when she knocked at the door. She cursed her foolishness, then turned to walk away.
Maybe he is dating Nabiki, or maybe they're just starting to see each other in that light...Lord knows it took us a hell of a long time to stop lying to ourselves...
She shook her head.
And you threw it all away, you stupid bitch! You've got nobody to blame but yourself.
She looked up, and saw Ranma. He was walking towards the apartment...with Minmay.
What is she doing here?
"Yo, Misa." Ranma waved a hand casually.
"Ranma." Her voice was a bit chilly, but Ranma—ever insensitive to other's moods—failed to notice.
"Whatcha up to?"
"I was just stopping by to visit you, but you weren't home. And I see that you already have company."
That time, the cold in her voice was enough for him to notice. He raised a hand.
"Not what ya think, Misa. Minmay is without a place to stay, so until we get her hooked up with her own apartment, she's gonna crash at my place."
"Ranma was kind enough to help me out when Kaifunn and I had a disagreement," added Minmay.
It certainly didn't help Misa's growing anger. "As usual, a female in distress brings out the best—or the worst—in him." She shook her head. "Claudia, Nabiki—even Milia, who you'd sworn to kill—"
"I got my revenge on Milia," objected Ranma. "Livin' was worse punishment for her than dyin'. Nabiki's my sister-in-law. An' when did Claudia ever need savin'?"
She felt a chill running up her back, her ire vanishing almost instantly, as she realized that she might have gone just a little too far. "Sorry, Ranma. But—"
His anger was obviously growing, however, and could not be staved off by a mere apology. "An' on top of that, let's not forget, it was you that broke up with me, not the other way around." His speech patterns were falling back on those of his youth, the rough mannerisms that only showed up when he was truly exercised about something. "So it seems ta me that ya got no say anymore in who I spend time with. Am I right?"
"You're right," she said quietly. "I'm sorry, Ranma, Minmay. I'll go now."
She turned and walked away, head down. Behind her, she heard Minmay's voice.
"Weren't you a bit hard on her, Ranma?"
"I guess..." He sighed. "But it reminded me of the bad old times in Nerima..."
Dammit!
She saw a pay phone, and picked up the receiver. She swiped her phone card through the reader, and punched in a number.
"Hello?"
"It's Misa. Can I come over and talk?"
"Sure, hon. What's wrong?"
Misa looked over her shoulder, but Ranma was gone.
"I screwed up badly, Claudia. Really badly."
