[A little late to be worried about being discovered now, wouldn't you say?]

{Maybe. Maybe not. But there's no sense inviting even more trouble.}

Ishtar was of course referring to his decision to travel by roof.
Despite the lack of awareness that most people had to what took
place over their heads, those that *did* pay attention were also
the ones most likely to make his current situation even more complicated
then it already was, and wouldn't *that* be fun?

Of course there were ways to hide his presence from those who might
be watching. Unfortunately most of them either needed equipment
he didn't have on him or required energy he couldn't afford to spare.
The most he could do at the moment was stick to the growing
shadows and hope for the best.

It wasn't an ideal solution, but it would have to do for now.

Ranma shifted the bundled up sword slightly higher up on his back
to distribute the weight more efficiently as he ran. The dragon bone
sheath masked much of his partner's magical signature from detection.
But she could do nothing about the glitter of silver or flashing jewels,
hence the wrapping of grey fairy silk around her hilt and pommel. The knight
knew that he was already running a risk by keeping her out even with
their precautions, but it would be more then his life was worth to try
and store Ishtar away now.

{We're going to need help.}

[You can't be serious about asking those girls, they're just *kids*!]

{If you've got a better idea then I'm all for it. But these "kids" are already
in the middle of this battle whether they know it or not. I've worked
with worse raw material before, but I suspect that they're made of sterner
stuff then you might think. Besides, if those girls don't know what's
going on then they'll just end up getting in my way.}

The thought of going to Belldandy and her sisters for aid was discarded
almost as soon as it popped up. She was a healer, not a fighter.

And he would be damned first before putting an innocent like her in
the line of fire. The other two weren't exactly combat material either.
Belldandy had explained that their portfolios were related to the Past,
Present and Future. That might make them useful for consultations
and other support functions, but it in no way qualified even a goddess
for the rigors of the battlefield.

Now that he knew who and what his enemy was, Ranma was already starting
to plot out future potential means of attack. A frontal assault was out
of the question for the forseeable future. Despite the incredible powers
at his command, he was still *heavily* outclassed by an Alien Intelligence
of Metall'a's caliber. That and going after the fiend directly would mean
facing her on her terms, in her home dimension.

A place where the Intelligence would have every possible advantage and then some.

No. Ranma might be a little nuts, but he wasn't a complete idiot.

He couldn't hope to stop her directly, not without a heck of a lot more firepower
and allies then just those silly Senshi. The best he could hope to do right now
was slow her forces down and cause as much damage to her support base as possible
in order to buy time for reinforcements to arrive.

{It should be enough. I hope.}

The Knight wished again that he'd brought along his standard Anti-Intelligence
equipment. Since they took up so much space and were a real pain in the ass
to lug around he'd opted to leave them behind, figuring that since he was
going on vacation he wouldn't need them anyway. But now he wished that he'd gone
through the trouble of lugging along at least one of those 750 megaton anti-warship
mines. Those suckers could give a dreadnought a bad case of thermonuclear indigestion,
and they worked just as well on large ancient tentacled monstrosities.

{Well, there's no point wishing for what I don't have.
So let's work with the hand we have and take the cards
as they're dealt.}

Of course this Cosmoknight *did* still have a few tricks up his sleeve.
He hadn't come here *completely* emptyhanded. And while the local equipment
was crude, it should have a solid enough tech base for what he had in mind.

{First on the list is to get those girls some half-way decent armor.
Fighting in mini-skirts...if I ever get my hands on the idiot who came
up with *that* idea!}

Like it or not, the Senshi were going to be stuck with him for awhile.

He wouldn't abandon them.

That would be like pushing newborn fawns into the maw of a hungry
great white shark. He didn't know how they had managed to survive
for so long against the likes of Metall'a (though luck seemed to
have played a major role), but they were facing an enemy totally
beyond their comprehension. This wasn't a game, the stakes here
were beyond life and death.

They could hate his guts as much as they liked *after* he whipped them into shape.

Hurt feelings would eventually mend.

Getting one's soul ripped out of one's still living body tended to be much more permanent.

Therefore Ranma was going to help them to the best of his abilities,
whether they wanted his assistance or not.

It was his duty.

More importantly, it was the right thing to do.

"Never again."

He would not fail a second time.

And these "Sailor Senshi" were about to find out just
how stubborn a Cosmoknight who had made up his mind
could be.

~~~~~~~~~~
Private Bet #10
by Shade

Chapter IV: First Strikes

Disclaimer: *Insert Standard Disclaimer of Ranma 1/2 being the creation
of Rumiko Takahashi & Rifts being the property of Pallidium Games here*

Thank you, the few, the patient, my prereaders. ^_^'

~~~~~~~~~

Part B: Retribution

"Never confuse honor with stupidity!"
-Drizzt Do'Urden

~~~~~~~~~

For fifteen agonizing minutes the outnumbered Rebel
vanguard had held off the advancing Imperial dreadnoughts.
They fought and died in defense of their fellows as ship
after battered ship jumped out of the system.

Only when the last of their cripples still capable of
FTL had withdrawn did the remaining ships and their
escorts finally begin to make their own escape.

"How much longer?"

Ayla felt horribly drained. The sheer scale
of the Rebel casualties should not have existed
in any sane universe.

"Hawkcrest is transiting now, Commander."

A flicker of light from a hundred thousand kilometers
astern and the disappearance of a friendly signature
from the screen marked the heavy cruiser's departure
to the safety of hyperspace.

"BattleCom reports that all of our surviving capital ships
have left the system. We're receiving clearance to break off
and jump out now."

She didn't have to see her comm officer's face
to know what she would find there.

The same thing that was being reflected in the eyes of the rest of the crew.

Defeat.

With an angry grimace, the commander turned her thoughts away
from the demoralized direction they were heading towards.

Yes, this battle was lost, but the war was far from over.

"Tania, call the troops in."

"Aye, Commander!"

"Marines, we are leaving! Get your butts in cause this ride is checking out now!"

"Rodger that!"

The marine's dropship, a modified heavy assault shuttle with enough firepower
to lay waste to a large country, scrambled out to meet its parent ship.
Escorting power armors covered her battered flanks, staying close to protect
against any pounces by enemy armors. There were many fresh blast marks on her
heavily scorched hull. Only her rear batteries responded to the harassing
fire of a pair of medium fighters dogging her tail, a sure sign that her
missile launchers were exhausted.

As she came into range the Stallion's rear weaponry gave the smaller vessel
additional covering fire, driving off the Kreeghor fighters with a barrage
of blue laser fire. The heavy shuttle lined up with its parent ship, coming in
for a landing in the launch bay. Located in the lower belly of the ship,
the bay and fighter hangers were faced toward the rear. This allowed the main body
of the ship to serve as a shield during the most vulnerable part of launch
and during a retreat such as this made recovery of her craft simpler
by allowing them to come in by simply following after the corvette.

"Marines recovered!"

"Sammy!"

"We're outta here!!"

~~~~~~

He was just within sight of the Tendo home when it first hit.

{Gyaaaaa!!}

Ranma dropped to his knees, clutching his suddenly pounding head
as savage raw fire danced around inside his brain. It was the
great grandmother-in-law of all headaches and she had a serious
case of PMS to boot. Neurons flared up, misfired, and smashed
into each other in a million scrambled collisions that made
him feel like someone had taken an icepick to the inside of
his skull and was trying to dig a hole down to America through it.

{Gyaaaaahhh!!!}

He hadn't had this kind of a migraine since...oh crap.

{Not them. Not now!}

The intensity quickly fell to an ugly dull throbbing,
but refused to disappear entirely. And if he was right
as to what was the cause, it was probably only going
to get worse unless he did something about it...and quickly.

[Something I should know?]

{*Long* story.}

[Let me guess. They want to kill you.]

{Yeah. That about sums it up.}

[...That was supposed to be a joke.]

Ranma braced himself. She wasn't going to like what he was going tell her next.

{This is something I have to do alone.}

[LIKE HELL YOU ARE!!]

{Ow! Ow! Ow!}

The knight clutched his head. Oh yeah, she *really* wasn't happy with him now.

{Somebody has to watch over my father and the Tendos. I can't risk
the chance that they might get traced to me while I'm gone, and
you're the only one I can trust to be able to protect them.}

[...Damnit!]

Ishtar tried to find a flaw in his logic she could argue against, but failed.
It irked her to no end, but he was right. She was the only one he could count
on. They were cut off from his regular support network on this backwater
planet and the only potential allies he had were a bunch of unreliable little
girls who were barely out of diapers (from an immortal standpoint at least).

He needed her here.

{If it makes you feel better, I promise I'll be careful.}

Despite herself, she couldn't help but feel a rise of grudging humor
of that thought coming from -him- of all people.

[...Why do I let you talk me into these things?]

Ranma promised himself that he would make this up to her later, somehow.

{Because you're a good person, partner.}

[Get going before I change my mind!]

The sheathed blade rose from the knight's back as he turned around and sped off.

Ishtar levitated up to the rooftops and prepared
to sneak her way inside the Tendo residence.

[One of these days....]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few surviving stragglers and a thin screen of fighters were the only
remaining Rebel forces in space now. They, like the Stallion, were
attempting to make their own escape from the system. But the overwhelming
numbers of Imperial ships hounding them every step of the way were
exacting a grim toll.

"Fourteen point six minutes till we clear the hyperlimit."

"How long until those battlecruisers reach optimal firing range?"

"Fourteen point six two minutes."

Each passing minute saw fewer friendly icons on the Stallion's viewscreen.
A light cruiser vanished in a white explosion from an unlucky hit directly
amidships by an Imperial battlecruiser. One outnumbered Rebel fighter
after another fell victim to the enemy Fangs relentlessly pursuing them
like a swarm of angry hornets. The fighters didn't even have to destroy
the ships they chased, simply crippling their engines ensured that
they would fall within reach of the Juggernaut following in their wake.

"This is Grey leader, we can't hold them off any longer!"

When the dwindling screen finally broke into a wild scattering
of individual units less then thirty of them were left to run.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Silent as a ghost he dashed from roof to roof, staying well out of range
of the neon lights that illuminated the streets below. Despite having
already slept the night before, he would have given much for a few hours
of rest now. Although he'd projected a confident front to Ishtar earlier,
the day's events had taken a lot out of him, both physically and mentally.
His wounds ached all over, a dull throbbing that reached into the very marrow
of his bones, a sharp reminder that his regenerative capabilities were still
badly depleted.

His head felt even worse, if that was possible.

But that wasn't the really bad news.

His PPE reserve, that stored power he counted on for almost all of his
special techniques and advanced abilities was pretty much dry at the moment.
It would take him weeks to get back up to full strength without any assistance,
and the lack of any active ley lines here left him with few other options
to speed up his recovery.

Definitely *not* good.

Once again Ranma reminded himself that it was his own damn fault he was in this mess.

But he always learned from his mistakes.

Since the universe seemed bound and determined to deny him
a vacation the only thing left was to do what he did best.

And he would start with those Never-to-be-damned-enough Darksiders
who'd decided to come calling without an invitation.

They actually weren't so dangerous to him because of their powers.

Aside from one or two tricks most of the traditional Force abilities
didn't work very well on his supernaturally toughened body. Closing
off his windpipe was useless since he didn't really need to breathe
in the first place. The mind tricks he'd learned to resist, thanks
in part to various psychic friends...and enemies. Even lightsabers
by themselves were ineffective against his energy resistance, being
little more then concentrated laser blades locked in a contained
feedback loop.

No, the real problem was his blasted allergy to the Sith.

Saotome still wasn't exactly sure of the specific cause,
but he suspected that it might have something to do with
their corruptive effect on the Force. His teacher had
explained the semi-mystical energy as being generated
by both life and nature, much like how PPE was formed.

While Ranma was Force-blind, his natural PPE base was "attuned"
to his environment. Much like how an orchestra of musical
instruments blended together to form a single rhythm,
Ranma theorized that there was a similar relationship between
the semi-mystical energies of the Force and the Psychic energies
of supernatural beings such as himself. A Sith who tapped into
the Dark Side of the Force probably generated something similar
to discordant feedback, disrupting that natural harmony.

And there *was* a sort of a precedent for his condition.

During his training under Sensei Skywalker he'd learned that
in certain cases Jedi and Sith could sense each other's
presence, sometimes even across vast interstellar distances.

Ranma's own reaction was similar to that, but shorter ranged
and much more reliable. He'd learned firsthand (much to his dismay)
that the range of his own reaction to their foul presence didn't
reach much beyond a normal plantary radius. But the real problem
was that its intensity didn't depend on distance so much as duration.
The longer he was exposed to the supernatural feedback they generated,
the worse his symptoms would get and at an ever accelerating rate.

But at least he'd gotten a temporary reprieve for the moment,
it seemed that his current lack of PPE also reduced the sensitivity
of his "allergy".

But the sooner he got rid of these Sith the better off he would be.

Fortunately, his reaction also made it easy to track them down.

All Ranma had to do was go in the direction that made him feel the worst.

And at least he could take some comfort from the fact that their
migraines were probably almost as bad as his was right now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"He is close, Master."

Mere psychic discomfort meant nothing to them.

Pain was Strength.

"Patience, my young apprentice. He will come to us."

Pain was Power.

"At last, we shall finally have our revenge."

Those were all that truly mattered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So when are you going to tell us why you're so fired up about that little pigsticker?"

Britanny Diggers (currently in human form since public airports tended
to react badly to the presence of were-creatures) was bored. For someone
used to just dashing around at sub-sonic levels waiting in line wasn't
the worst torture in the world, but it came darn well close to it!

"Remember my research on Jade's historical artifacts?"

"You mean that superweapon that nearly got us all killed?"

"No, that was the Betaen temple."

"I thought the Betaen temple was the one where Brianna blew the ceiling
out with that oversized rail gun of hers?"

"No! I'm talking about those ruins I discovered near the old dwarven mines on Jade."

"Oh! Come again?"

Gina Diggers sighed. Sometimes she thought that her adopted
sister did this to her on purpose. Why was it that nobody else
in her family could grasp the thrills of scientific discovery?

"Weren't you paying *any* attention to the symbols on that sword?"

Britanny gave her a blank look.

"You mean those Asgardian Dwarven battle runes on the hilt
or the High Elven script etched into the blade itself?"

Two jaws dropped as their owners served to stare at a grinning Brianna.

"Heh heh heh! Don't look so surprised, remember I have big sister's memories
up here too. Including the ones of those boring ancient language studies."

She emphasized her statement by tapping one finger against the side of her head.

"Yessiree, I'm one sharp cookie!"

Unfortunately none of the girls or their escorts noticed
the three rats stealthily keeping tabs on them.

Nor did they know about the half a dozen or so privately chartered
planes already taking off ahead of their flight and bound for the
same eventual destination...Tokyo, Japan.

~~~~~~~~

Somewhere in Southern Florida, a butterfly was flapping its wings like crazy.

~~~~~~~~

It hadn't taken him too long to pinpoint their location.

An old rusting warehouse in the bay area. Not what he
would have expected as their choice for a battlefield.

Ranma didn't know whether to be amused or insulted.

The general area was empty of life and only a few
yellowed lights lit the gloom here. Which was just
as well. Tonight the odors of the sea and the industrial
garbage polluting it had been joined by another scent.

The sweet stench of seared human flesh.

The dismembered bodies of the three guards outside were still warm
to the touch when he found them. A closer examination quickly revealed
the intricate full body tattoos that marked the corpses for what they were.

Yakuza, the organized crime families of Japan.

A problem to be dealt with at a later time, right now
he had bigger fish to fry. Still it was nice to know
that any property damage that took place tonight would
be felt by people who probably deserved it.

One hand dipped into his quasi-subspace pocket to retrieve what he needed.

The long metallic cylinder slid easily into his grip like an old friend.

For a long moment he simply held it, letting his reflexes adjust
to the familar grip and weight. It had been years since he'd
last taken this out, but Ranma was confident that he hadn't forgotten
how to use one of these things.

There were other weapons he could have used. But this simple elegance
simply felt "right" to him. And there was also tradition to consider.
While he tended to bend most of the rules a bit, this particular custom
wasn't one of them.

Besides, this brought back many other memories. Some good, some bad,
and a few really embarassing ones that he hoped the others had forgotten
about by now. Lowbacca's fur should have grown back already, and it
wasn't like he'd *meant* to flash half the galaxy during that
Bothan's speech. As for the nerf manure incident, Fett was the one
who'd shot out the transport's engines so why didn't they go blame him?

"Learn from the Past you must, or else repeat the same mistakes you will."

Ranma froze. He hadn't sensed a thing.
How could anyone sneak up on him so easily?!

"Surprised are you? How do you survive this long,
so careless to what goes on around you, heh?"

One eyebrow shot up as he slowly turned to face
the origin of that strange amused cackle.

"Eh heh heh! Too reckless you are. My help you will need."

He had never seen this person before, but Luke had told him enough
about his own training for Ranma to make a reasonable guess about
this softly glowing figure's identity.

"Yoda-dono, I presume?"

~~~~~~~~

Kasumi was worried.

Akane and Nabiki had both come home a long time ago,
but there was still no sign whatsoever of their new
houseguest.

And he'd forgotten his lunch today!

The horror! The horror!!

Her dear fiance wasn't eating properly!

He might need to be tenderly nursed back to health.

With long sponge baths....

And warm oil massages....

Of course one couldn't forget the whipped cream too!

"Kasumi? Kasumi?"

Akane waved her hand in front of her sister as the
older girl stared at nothing in particular with that
odd little smile on her face. The thin line of drool
creeping its way down the corner of her mouth was
particularly disturbing.

"Ewww."

~~~~~~~~

[Hmmph.]

Silly mortals.

Why had her Ranma ever agreed to live with these people?

The youngest was a weakling who thought herself strong.

The second daughter, merely a petty con-artist with delusions of adequacy.

And the eldest girl *really* needed to get laid.

The young woman's surpressed hormones were so strong that
they were beginning to finally leak through Ishtar's psychic
defenses and in the process giving the Rune Weapon a glimpse
at a whole bunch of erotic fantasies that she *really* didn't
need to know about.

[Damn oversexed virgins. Those meek and quiet ones are always trouble.]

Bad enough that the former goddess hadn't been able to get any
of the real thing since being imprisoned in this damn sword.

But *this*, this horrible experience was more then someone with
her raging libido should ever be forced to endure.

[I'd *KILL* for some fingers and the proper equipment to use them in right now.]

Ranma was going to owe her *BIG* for this.

[Whoever said misery loves company was either a liar or a fool.]

At least she could safely ignore the other two occupants of the home.

If Soun Tendo and Genma Saotome had ever possessed a single brain cell
between them, it had long since perished from sheer loneliness.

She didn't feel that those two bums deserved any protection,
but Ranma disagreed. He might not like them very much,
but that didn't mean they were any less deserving of protection.
Not that she could fault him for his compassion, it was that same
quality that had contributed to her own feelings for her owner.
She just wished he could have bestowed it on more deserving individuals.

And without Ranma here, she could only tap into her lesser powers.

That limited her efforts, but if push came to shove and there was
a real emergency she could form a temporary link with a willing subject.
It wasn't anywhere close to what her bond with her partner could do,
but aT least it was something.

The only problem was her choices for a wielder were a violent numbskull,
a petty thief or a horny ditz.

[Yay. Lucky me.]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Katrina had discovered something new today.

*BLEAGH*

She had no stomach for space travel. Literally.

*BLEAURGH*

While the green faced adventuress paid her tribute
to the porcelain throne, the captain of the Stick
In Your Eye had more pressing concerns.

Namely the three Imperial cruisers and their
destroyer escorts that had just broken out
of the planet's orbital traffic and dropped
into a pursuit course behind them.

Phaseworld's space defenses were already deploying
to counter this outrageous breach of the system's
strict neutrality policy. Ghost fighters and Promethean
Phase cruisers erupted from from the sixteen titanic
space stations surrounding the planet like a swarm
of angry bees. But they were being held up by the mass
confusion and snarled traffic resulting from the hundreds
of merchant ships and foreign military ships that were trying
to scramble out of their way. And the Imperial ships already
had a good head start.

"They've launched fighters."

"Tell me something I don't know, Auntie."

"One of your "easy money" passengers just
jammed your personal lavatory with vomit."

"...."

"You *did* ask for that one, Captain."

"Not another word, Murray."

Captain Bill and his crew soon had more pressing concerns
as the first enemy missiles began to launch.

~~~~~~~~

Minako was pondering many things.

Love.

Duty.

Danburite's Curse.

As she had chosen her duty over her feelings,
so had she been condemned to never know happiness
while she served as a Senshi.

She had denied its power over her at first, but the passage of
time had shown that *something* was undeniably effective in
making sure her love life only existed in her imagination.

Needless to say, Mina was not a happy camper.

While she valued her friendship and duty with her fellow Senshi,
the prospect of a life empty of companionship from the male gender
made the future look rather bleak, to put it mildly.

And now there was this new factor in the equation.

Something about their rescuer had seemed oddly...familiar.

As if she'd met him before, but of course that was impossible.

Wasn't it?

But that faint tickle of recognition still remained.

And that same little voice was telling her that she'd finally
found the key to breaking free from the Curse.

Now if only she could figure out *how* he was so important.

Not to mention, what kind of girl boated his balloon?

~~~~~~~~

"Come on girls! I know you can do better then that!"

"I never thought I'd say this, but I miss Grandma's training!"

"Dear Kami-sama! I can't feel my feet anymore!
Please just let this torture end!"

"How long have we been practicing?"

"Seven hours."

"And we're going to keep doing this until all of you get it right."

The slavedriv-er-Mrs. Saotome gave her doomed vict-wards a stern look.

After all, if they wanted to be the brides of a man among men
then they were going to have to *earn* it!

"Pay attention girls, you bend this way, then apply pressure here,
and finally flex like-*so*!"

*pop*

Nodoka also believed in teaching by example.

~~~~~~~~

"...."

"...."

"...."

"...."

There were few things that could leave the
spirits, heroes, and assorted other spectators
gathered for the Private Bet at a loss for words.

*That* scene had been one of them.

"I-I'm never going to be able to look at a fruit salad the same way ever again."

~~~~~~~~

"Go to rapid fire on all tubes with what we've got left till the bays run dry."

"Commander, we're down to less then five percent of our missile reserves."

"I knoW. Do it."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Twelve battlecruisers and a swarm of smaller frigates,
cruisers and destroyers filled the screen of her plot.
Once it had become clear to the Imps that they wouldn't
be able to catch the Rebel Fleet, they'd sent those two
battle squadrons along with a whole mess of fighters to
"mop up" the survivors while the main Imperial forces set
course for the doomed planet.

Ayla swore underneath her breath.

There was no way they could slow their own departure,
but at the same time she couldn't just abandon those pilots.
They'd risked themselves to buy the Fleet the time it needed
to escape, they were owed that same chance to get out.

She opened a channel to the hanger bay.

"Open the doors, we'll take as many of the ones that
can't jump out as we can squeeze in."

"Rodger."

The commander turned.

"Com!"

"Already on it. Hailing them now."

{This is going to be close...}

Three Broadswords were the first to reach the ship, the lean
craft fighter bodies heavily scarred with the marks of battle.

A worn looking Black Eagle knockoff tried to follow,
only to vanish a moment later in a sphere of nuclear flame
as one of the pursuing missiles caught up to it.

Another Rebel fighter managed to make it in.

Half a dozen more died as they raced for the corvette.

And then the desperate long range fire from
the Stallion's launchers finally ceased.

"That's it, we're out."

The commander heard the helmswoman, but her attention
was locked on to the main plot.

Missiles were coming in fast and furious now.

ECM and point defense did their best.

But there were simply too many targets to
deal with and not enough time to get them all.
The space around the ship's rear erupted as her
overstretched defenses fought desperately against
the increasingly accurate fire of her pursuers.

Their only consolation was that at least the battlecruisers
were weak in capital missile launchers and so couldn't
contribute much to the long range pounding.

Some of the smaller vessels actually tried to close
the range unsupported by the larger but slower
battlecruisers, emboldened by the silence that now
greeted their own missile barrages.

But only until the Stallion's heavy rear spinal mount laser
burned down the first Imperial destroyer that foolishly
entered the rebel ship's energy envelope.

After that, the other ships wisely stayed out of her range.

A pair of Scorpion Light Fighters docked, barely beating
the storm of fire that sought them out. One of them lost
a thruster at the last minute and screeched against the floor
as the craft's pilot fought to keep from ramming into any of
the other hastily parked craft. Emergency restraints and
forcefields sprang up to catch the skidding fighter while
the stink of ozone and scorched circuitry filled the bay.

And then there were four.

A damaged Proctor Interceptor led the way, the largest fighter class
ever made, it was almost a sixth the size of the corvette and drawing
most of the fire due to its size. Two battered Rapier medium fighters
clung to her flanks like limpets and did their best to act as decoys.
But there was little else they could do to protect the larger craft.

But the last sensor reading caught her attention.

Because that distinctive profile registered as *organic*.

That was no ship. It was a Vacuum Wasp!

She was still watching the screen when the Proctor blew up.

One of the Rapiers died as it plunged headfirst into the explosion,
disintergrating into a cloud of molten metal and flame. The other
one managed to pull up in time, surviving long enough to make it
to the safety of corvette's hanger.

As did the Wasp.

And the Commander knew that they'd done all they could.

"Okay, that's it. Now let's-"

A proximity alarm screamed.

"Imperial Star Ghost coming out of Phase off to port!"

"Batteries six and seven, take that bastard ou-"

"It's hailing us!"

"What?!"

~~~~~~~~

The ancient stone temple had stood on this quiet world
as long as any could remember, slowly crumbling into
ruins as entropy sought to claim its prize.

But as with many things here, appearances were deceptive.

Despite its poor appearance this temple had survived
the rise and fall of dozens of civilizations on worlds
that had all but been forgotten in modern times. It had
been here when the Starkillers began their bloody reign
of conquest, been visited by the Dominators at the height
of their dominion and had watched all of them fall under
the weight of history.

Now Ironclaw had come to these sacred grounds in search of answers.

And he would have them. One way or another.

As the captain stepped out from the shuttle his elite armored
shock troops stepped into escort positions on his flanks,
their pulse rifles held at a respectful readiness.

Not that the Ironclaw needed them. But they would serve as
a notice to all who were watching just how serious he was
about his mission here. With a nod and a gesture from their
commander they dispersed to defensive positions around the temple.

Ironclaw intended for this meeting to be for his eyes and ears only.

His dark boots rang out loudly on the worn and crumbling
white marble tiles that made up the temple's main courtyard.

A robed delegation from the Oracles was waiting for him inside the temple proper.

It was a large structure, much larger when viewed from within then its
worn appearance from the outside would have led an observer to believe.

Even Captain Rashul was not completely immune
to the ageless feeling of his surroundings.

Here was a place that commanded respect.

"We know why you have come here, Rashulnol Tholelaen Jarenza."

The voice was old but still strong and steady, untouched by the usual
ravages of age. Its tone was neither completely male or female, but
shared qualities from both genders.

Ironclaw's eyes narrowed dangerously at the use of his true name.

"Who dares?"

From the head of the delegation stepped forth a robed figure no larger
then a young human child. The speaker's features had been greatly worn
down by time's passage, but his step was firm and his light crystal grey
eyes were focused and unclouded.

"You sought this temple out for its knowledge, should you be so surprised
that this information is also put to use?"

"You are the High Priest here?"

"For now, yes."

"I do not tolerate being toyed with. I am here for answers, not riddles."

"There are always answers here for those with the ability to see them."

Only sheer willpower restrained Ironclaw's hands from reaching out
to snap the babbling priest's neck.

"You bandy words with me at your peril, Priest."

"No. You simply refuse to understand. Vengence guides your path,
but you are only that which you yourself chose to become."

Something in the High Priest's piercing gaze held him in check.

"The road you travel will cross again with that which you seek,
rest assured. You will face Ranma Saotome again. That much of
the future at least is certain."

Ironclaw's eyes narrowed.

"But in the end, you will come to regret this. From the ash's
of victory will come your doom. Only in defeat will you finally
find your peace."

"Where is Saotome?"

The final warning in his voice was clear.

"He is where he is meant to be. As the Tide of Darkness turns,
Look for him within the Anvil's Heart."

Captain Rashul turned and stalked out without another word.

He'd gotten what he had come here for.

~~~~~~~~

"Know of me, do you?"

"Greatest of the Jedi Masters, hero of the Clone Wars,
and reputedly the deadliest lightsaber duelist of the
Old Republic. One tends to pick up a few things here
and there."

"Titles do not make one great."

"True. But since I'm currently holding a conversation
with the spirit of a long deceased Jedi, I can't help
but be more then a little curious as to why you of all
people are here."

"Told you I have, teach you I can."

"Er, no offense, but I've already been to the Jedi Academy."

"Incomplete, your training is. Left too soon, you did.
Underestimate the danger, you do. Not so easily thwarted
is the Dark Side. Once down the dark path you start,
forever will it dominate your destiny."

The muscles in his jaw tightened.

A part of him wanted to tell the apparition to leave
and take its mumbo jumbo sayings with it. But a stronger
internal voice warned him that the Jedi Master might
be right. While he had been granted the status of Knight
by Sensei Luke, as Yoda had said, a title was little more
then just words. And truth be told, there had been some
disturbing 'occurances' which had been occurring more
and more frequently lately.

Ranma shook his head to clear his thoughts.

"Decided have you?"

It would be foolish to reject this offer. Right now
he needed all the help he could get, no matter how bizzare
the source might be. Besides he'd been training under other people
for most of his life anyway, this would be just like old times.

"Would you *please* train me, Sensei Yoda?"

The shade of the ancient Jedi Master gave him an amused grin.

"Progress already you have made."

~~~~~~~~~

"Thirty seconds to the hyperlimit!"

Ayla knew she should have been concentrating on their flight,
but her people knew their jobs. They didn't need her distracting
them right now.

"Imperial battlecruisers closing to energy range!"

She couldn't help staring at the deceptively peaceful sight of
the world they'd tried to save. The world that they'd abandoned
to mercy of the Empire. And the people that they'd sentenced to death.

"Jumping in 3..."

It hurt. Like a dull piece of heated shrapnel had been shoved into her heart.

It hurt all the more because she felt that they'd not only failed
all those people but *him* as well.

"2..."

All of the old doubts were resurfacing. Was she really cut out for command?

"1..."

"They're in range!"

"Drive engaged!"

On the main screen the stars streaked into lines of light as the Stallion's
FTL pulled the ship outside of the limitations of the Einsteinian Universe
and into the safety of hyperspace.

They'd made it.

"Take us down to condition two. And get someone down to the hanger to
deal with those pilots we picked up. Lieutenant, you have the watch."

As the others relaxed from battlestations, Ayla got up and left the bridge.

She walked until she found an empty viewport and then just gazed out at
the beautiful flashing spectacle of hyperspace with troubled eyes.

Like a grim statue, not even the slighest bit of emotion showing on her face.

She stood there for a very long time.

~~~~~~~~~

"Ooooh."

"Mihoshi? Are you feeling alright?"

The normally energetic blonde policewoman didn't look so good.
Her naturally flowing hairstyle had frazzled out and her darkly
tanned skin was covered in a fine sweat.

"Something funny is making my head hurt."

Sasami dampened another cool compress
and placed it on her friend's feverish head.

"What do you mean by funny?"

"Its like a big buzzing like those Earth cicadas
make but coming from the inside and they sound sort of like
two people who might be really bad but it isn't right to judge
others by their appearance is what my mother always tells me
and she's right because I've met lots of people who sound mean
but really aren't and-Oooo...I feel dizzy now..."

The rest of the household sweatdropped but also felt a little relieved.

If Mihoshi was still able to ramble through every subject that came
to her mind, then she probably wasn't in any real danger.

~~~~~~~~~

Sith did not sweatdrop.

"I have never felt such a powerful disturbance in the Force."

"Is it the Jedi?"

"No, this presence feels far too...too...fluffy."

Nor did they facefault.

But this time it was a close thing, even for them.

~~~~~~~~~

Sadly, the small figure shook its robed head as the last echos
of the Atlantian's footsteps finally fell silent in the ancient halls.

Its brethren dispersed back into to their duties, leaving the High Priest
to stand among the relics of times and people long gone.

But not alone.

"It is done then."

[Yes.]

"And so our tale ends."

[It should not have to be this way.]

"Do not grieve. Our time passed long ago. It is to the children we must entrust our future to."

[I am sorry.]

~~~~~~~~

"All batteries are locked on to the primary target as ordered, Sir."

Ironclaw coldly studied the temple's bracketed image from over his officer's shoulder.

There was absolutely no emotion in his voice as he gave the order.

"Fire."

~~~~~~~~~

The handle clipped smoothly to the side of his belt.

He was as ready as he'd ever be under these circumstances.

"Challenge them alone will you?"

The wrinkled little figure watched with eyes that
seemed to measure him against an unknown standard
and somehow found him lacking.

It was *really* annoying.

But he wasn't about to give his new teacher
the satisfaction of seeing him react to this
barely veiled disapproval.

Patience had been the hardest learned lesson of all.

"If you know of any other available Jedi, they're welcome to come."

The ancient Master shook his head.

"Too eager for the attack you are, much like your father."

That verbal jab hit home.

"My father is an idiot. And even then I may be giving him
too much credit."

The jagged steel in his tone did not escape the Jedi Master's notice.

"Angry are you?"

Ranma took a deep breath and held it for
a long moment before letting it out.

"I'd be lying if I said no."

"Heh! Admit to your failings so easily you do."

"I learned a long time ago that the truth might hurt,
but lies will always come around and bite you on the ass."

He started walking silently towards the warehouse.

The shade of Yoda watched him go, his expression suddenly grave.

"The path you tread between Light and Dark allows for no mistakes."

Ranma paused for a moment in front of the door.

His response was barely a whisper.

"I know."

He went inside without looking back.

"Do you? Do you indeed?"

A grudging look of respect briefly appeared on
the old Jedi's face before the spirit's form
faded into the night.

"Perhaps I will be able to teach him after all."

And then there was only the call of the wind and the sea.

-To be c-o-n-t-i-n-u-e-d !