Disclaimer
Macross is owned by or licensed to lots of people - Tatsunoko Studios, Harmony Gold, Studio Nue, Streamline Video...note that none of them are me.
The same can be said of Ranma 1/2 - Rumiko Takahashi, Kitty, Shonen Sunday Comics, Viz Video. Not me.
I didn't create any of them, and I certainly do not own them. Any use of them in this story is meant as nothing more than tribute. Please don't sue me.
Wednesday's Child
Four: Recon Platoon Delta
March 17th, 1999
Dear Ranma,
I know, you don't normally write eMail like it's regular post mail, but I learned to write letters properly, and I don't feel like changing just for eMail.
Anyway, I wanted to wish you a happy birthday - I know, it's not until tomorrow, but hey, you might not get this until then. Daddy sent me an eMail to tell me your group has been delayed, and won't be hitting the island before tomorrow, so I'll also take this chance to wish you good luck.
Daddy had strong words about me spending time with you. He wouldn't tell me why, just that it wasn't appropriate. Guess he's worried about the age difference, or maybe because you're his subordinate. But he doesn't know I'm sending you eMail, and as much as I'd like to keep these, I have to delete them before Daddy gets home. Maybe I'll print them off, and stick them in my diary. He never looks in there.
Anyway, good luck, and happy birthday, and try not to get hurt.
Sincerely,
Hayase Misa
Ranma grinned; it was four hours later where Misa was. So she must have sent the eMail about nine o'clock. He saved the message to permanent storage, set a file lock on it - he quite doubted the Captain would be snooping in his troops' private messages, but why take chances? - and closed the terminal.
"Sarge." Captain Addams - "Major" Addams while shipboard. "Briefing in ten minutes."
"Aye, Sir." Ranma grabbed his clipboard off of the desk, and stood. "Be right with you."
"Elements of the PLO, the Mujaheddin and the FJA were spotted boarding a cargo vessel off Hawai'i." Addams clicked his remote, and a picture flashed up on the screen. "This individual in particular is most wanted; he was the leader of the FJA, just before they turned nasty. We don't know if he still holds a position of power within the FJA, but we are certain he will have information we want."
Ranma clenched a fist under the briefing table; finally, a crack at the Free Japan Alliance!
Another click, and a satellite photo appeared on the screen. "The cargo vessel was tracked to this island, rather off the path for its listed route. We were lucky enough to catch photos of it launching small craft, which appear to be heading straight for the island. Of course, satellite imagery isn't good enough to recognize people. Maybe next week." Addams smirked. "But given that on our next pass, we observed weapons training, we can assume that there is a terrorist camp on the island." He clicked again, and the image zoomed in. "Unfortunately, the satellite lacked infrared capability, and the canopy is too thick to spot the camp. However, we suspect it to be in this saddle."
"So we need to scout it out first." It was Sergeant O'Toole who spoke.
"Affirmative. Lieutenant Ibuki, you and Delta Platoon will perform the recon."
"Aye, Sir."
"This is not to be a recon in force, Ibuki. Weapons on safe, unless you are fired upon." Addams clicked again, back to the wider view. "Alpha and Bravo Platoons will encircle the island, going here and here." He indicated the spots with a laser pointer. "We will await a report from Delta. Charlie Platoon will remain on the boat as our reserve."
"Begging your pardon, Sir." Ranma raised his hand. "Having a canoe this size heave up on the beach isn't the most stealthy way of approaching the island. I know we're a low-rider, but when we beach, we're gonna make noise."
"I am aware of that, Sergeant. Do you have a better idea?"
"Matter of fact, yes, Sir. Delta Platoon is fully SCUBA trained. We can go ashore by dive tug well before the boat beaches."
Major Addams nodded. "Good idea, Sergeant. Ibuki, your thoughts on this?"
Lieutenant Ibuki was a young officer, having come up through the Academy, but he'd at least learned to listen to his NCOs. He considered the idea, then said, "Sounds like that scene in The Rock. The only caveat is that it will make life hard for my pigmen. Including Sergeant Saotome."
"Especially Sergeant Saotome."
Ranma snorted. "Just means I'll be smaller and more stealthy."
"You mean you'll attract more attention," replied Ibuki.
A chuckle ran around the briefing room. Despite Ranma's fears, the Marines were more or less uninterested in the curse, aside from the fact that it gave them an attractive, curvy girl to leer at. They were too disciplined, too professional, to do anything more than leer, but even the low level of crap he'd had to deal with in the Army because of the curse didn't exist here.
Ibuki continued. "None of my pig-men will really enjoy this. The MINIMI doesn't take well to water. We'll need to shroud them before departure, and un-shrouding them on the beach is gonna make noise. But it sounds like the best plan we got."
"Make it so."
"Aye, Sir."
Ranma released the dive tug, and swam the last ten meters under her own power. The rest of her Squad were still attached to the tug, but she wanted to be the first on the beach.
The cap she wore had several strands of what looked just like seaweed, and the oddly-shaped goggles were low-reflective. Between the two, they'd disguise her outline sufficiently that a careful observer who spotted her might mistake her for a sea otter, or a clump of vegetation...anything but a human. She slowly scanned the beach, then slipped out of the water.
The rest of the Squad made landfall right behind her, and she waved one of them - a Private Roger Brown - forward with her. The two of them made a quick circuit of the landing point, just enough to determine that they were in fact not observed.
"Okay." She spoke in a very low voice, but didn't whisper; whispers carry a surprising distance. "Break out the gear."
The soldiers carried, for the most part, the HK-8 assault rifle. Surprisingly rugged and very reliable, all they needed was a quick shake out to render them ready for service. Ranma's MINIMI was a bit more fragile, and had been wrapped in a plastic shroud and heat-sealed against water. She quickly cut the shroud away, unsealed her first box of ammo and clipped it to the gun. As she did so, she glanced about, seeing the second Squad beaching some distance away.
The Lieutenant ghosted over to her; whatever his failings as an officer, which weren't that many really, he was excellent in stealth. "Both Squads report ready, Sarge."
"Thanks, Looie. How you want to handle this?"
"We have three hours before they bring the hammer down." Ibuki rolled out the plasticized maps. "Checkpoint Able is here, Checkpoint Baker here. You take your Squad, proceed to Able. Second will then advance to Baker. Don't dawdle."
"Yes, Sir." Ranma turned and waved her senior Corporal forward. "Brigham, roving overwatch?"
Brigham nodded. "Yeah. I'll lead off." He looked pointedly at the Lieutenant, and said, "Give us twenty seconds after we move."
Ibuki watched the Corporal slip back to his men, and said, "I fucked up, didn't I?"
"Just a wee bit, Sir." Ranma nodded. "We shoulda discussed this on the boat, not on the beach."
"Thanks, Sarge." Ibuki rolled up the map. "Brigham's moving."
"Port Section!" She whispered now, and raised a hand. "Overwatch for Starboard. Go."
Twenty soldiers in First, two of them Corporals and two more Privates, First Class. They slipped out in groups of five, close together, but not so close that they looked like a parade. Ranma eyeballed them as they moved, tagged one or two mentally as needing a bit more training in stealth, and brought up the rear, MINIMI at the ready.
It took them fifteen minutes to reach Checkpoint Able, with not a sign of enemy movement. Ranma paused at the checkpoint, and pulled out her binoculars. She scanned the foliage, and cursed.
"What does that look like to you, Brigham?"
"Duck blind." Brigham scowled. "I doubt the inhabitants are after duck, though."
Ranma waved over her radioman, and softly said, "Signal to Second: Able."
The radioman nodded, and clicked on the radio. "Able." Just one word. Seconds later, Ranma saw the lead elements of Second advancing through the weeds. They would pass her point, coming to Checkpoint Baker, several hundred meters in advance of her, then provide cover if needed as Ranma's unit advanced past them again.
The Lieutenant was in the lead of Second, but stopped at Checkpoint Able. "We spotted a machine gun nest ahead."
"Yeah, I saw it." Ranma sighed. "We won't be able to sneak past it."
"How close can you get?"
Ranma snorted. "Close enough to steal their breakfast."
"Good. Can you booby-trap it?"
"I wouldn't want to," said Ranma. "It'll make noise. And knockin' them out will just make them miss their call-in. I think we've got a problem, Sir."
"Checkpoint Congo is practically right underneath them." Ibuki scowled. "I'm starting to think we're not gonna pull this off."
"Bad news for the strike force," said Ranma. "Can we use a different approach?"
"No..." Ibuki pulled out his map. "See, we've got this hill along here...we'd be exposed if we went over it, and there's probably more bad news on the other side, so that's out. Going the other way would mean backtracking, and that would eat up more time than we have."
"Okay. How about this?" Ranma grinned. "I'll sneak right on past 'em, do the recon myself, and report back by radio."
"Ballsy." Ibuki considered his options, and said, "Fine. What are you taking for gear?"
"Just a walkie-talkie." She started peeling down. "A quick roll in the mud and leaves for camo. The MINIMI would just slow me down, an' I'm almost as dangerous without it as I am with it." She paused. "Ya know, I realize that I'm hot as a chick, but ya mind not starin' at my tits, Sir?"
"Sorry."
"No problem, Sir." She chuckled. "Don't know why anyone would look at me with this stupid cue-ball haircut anyway..." She grabbed a couple of handsful of mud. "You wanna do my back?"
The mud was not applied randomly. With it rubbed in in a tiger-stripe pattern, and some leaves caked in, and a lot more of both in what remained of her hair, Ranma looked like something the c-c-c-furry demon from hell dragged in. It broke up her outline, and by the time she was three meters away, she was invisible to any observer, enemy or friendly.
Which suited her just fine, since she was almost naked.
At least I don't need to use the Umi-Sen-Ken.
She paused at the machine-gun nest, and carefully deprived it of all its ammo, relocating the rounds five meters away from the site. The inhabitants had no idea that she was there, and wouldn't until and unless they tried to use their weapons. Five minutes later, she located a second nest. This one, she undermined the foundations. If they opened up with the guns, the entire thing would collapse.
The third one, she could do nothing about; the two crewmembers were more alert than their counterparts. She quietly radioed in its position, and set up a flare mine and tripwire. If they fired the gun, they would at least advertise their position clearly.
Finally, she crested a ridge, and looked into the camp itself.
Six small huts, their tops carefully camouflaged against satellite imagery. A weapons range, and she saw ten men - all of them were male - practicing weapons fire. She sneered at their marksmanship, but noted that all of them were using full-auto. You didn't need to aim when firing twelve rounds per second.
One hut was significantly larger than the other; she snuck underneath it, and pressed her ear to the floor above her.
"--care how they figured it out. The point is, that damn boat is on its way."
Lucky. They were speaking Japanese, though the fellow she'd just heard had an odd accent.
"How long before they hit the beach?"
"Probably by ten. Just our luck that Nguyen warned us."
"How did he know?"
"Satellites. The Chinese have some nice ones, can even spot subs, and we've been getting their take for a while."
"Well, their most likely approach is from the east beach, and we've got spotters all along there, along with gun crews. We've got over a hundred men ready and waiting for them. As long as they don't send a full battalion, they're gonna swear they were dropped into a meat grinder."
"Idiot. We're not talking half-assed JSDF troops here. These are the fucking Marines. United Nations forces, armed to the teeth with cutting-edge weaponry. They probably already know where your gun crews are hidden--"
Yep. At least some of them, anyway.
"--and they'll hammer those crews with ship bombardment."
Well, the Shankland had a six-inch, but it was a relic. Probably they'd have to send Delta to take out the gun crews that she'd missed, just to take the beach.
"So what the hell do we do?"
"Evacuate. We'll pull your crews back, get them to the boat, and get away from here before the UN ship makes landfall."
Okay, this was going to seriously bugger the mission. She couldn't let that happen, not with the FJA right in the palm of her hand. She clicked on the radio, hit the mute button, and started tapping the Morse key.
"Signal from Sergeant Saotome." The radioman raised a hand. "Morse. Wait...'Surprise compromised. Enemy about to retreat. Advise Delta move against them.' And she's repeating it, Sir."
"Goddamn." Ibuki sighed. "The Captain ain't gonna be happy with us. Can you give me secure to the Shankland?"
"You're live."
Ibuki picked up the mic. "Two-Four, this is Delta-Three."
"Two-Four. Go ahead."
"Enemy forces are preparing to bug out. Repeat, enemy forces are preparing to retreat. Recommend Delta Platoon takes the island. Go ahead."
There was a brief pause, then, "Two-Four. Proceed. Go ahead."
"Proceed, aye. Delta-Three, clear." He clicked off the mic. "Corporal, instruct your fire-teams to take out the machine gun nests."
The muffled crump of the grenade launchers told Ranma more clearly than any radio messsage that her suggestion had been accepted. She listened as the residents of the camp started running about aimlessly.
The voice of the camp commander - at least, that was who she assumed it was - cut over the din. "Get the ammo into the first boats, get them away first. No, wait. Get Tatsu in here, and hold the first boat for him."
"He's on his way." There was a brief pause, then the sound of the door opening, and a new voice.
"Joachim, what the hell is--"
"We're evacuating. We need to get you out with the first boat."
"Kozo told me that much, but he--"
"Take these." A rustling of papers. "Get them to your people in Japan. Our organization is willing to assist, provided you turn over at least two of the devices to us."
Devices?
"They don't come cheap--"
"Neither do the lives of my men. Remember that, Tatsu. These weapons are out bargaining chip, and unless we can spread them throughout the target countries, we won't be able to use them effectively."
"I want one in Tokyo, one in Seoul--"
"Yes. We will be placing ours in Madrid. Our Mexican brethren will be moving theirs to California, and the Italians will be wanting one to plant in Germany."
"Which one will be detonated first?"
"Probably the Tokyo device, for maximum overkill. We want them scared. Even if the blast fails to cause sufficient casualties, the fallout and radiation will add to it in great numbers."
Ranma could not repress a shudder, as it became painfully clear that the two men above her were talking about nuclear weapons. Like any other Japanese person, Ranma had a loathing of nuclear arms that went far beyond what person of another nationality would expect. The only country ever to be targeted by these weapons, the Japanese people had, in a resounding moment of unity, declared that they would never use them.
Except this Tatsu fellow, who was willing to murder twenty-five million people to make a political point.
This was the moment. She knew that, now. Every moment since the blast that had ended Akane's life led to this point. Now, to redeem herself, she could save the lives of twenty-five million strangers.
No. Not yet. First, she had to do her duty as a sergeant of the United Nations Marine Corps. Again, she tapped out her coded message on the walkie-talkie.
"Signal from Sergeant Saotome. 'Enemy has acquired...'" The radioman trailed off. "Sir, I'm really wishing I could confirm this."
"Negative, Private. You'll give away her position."
"Aye, Sir. 'Enemy has acquired special weapons and are prepared to use them in a terrorist attack.'"
"Fuck. It's Thunderball, except for real." Ibuki rose to a half-crouch, and waved the First Section forward. "Take the camp, now!"
Ranma took three deep, cleansing breaths, grasped the floor joists, and kicked herself through the floorboards.
At times of stress, the human mind tends to see events in small, disjointed segments. Time seems to slow to a crawl, though one's own actions are just as slowed as those around. For the martial artist, this effect is sought after, desired, as it improves one's ability to grasp the moment and act accordingly. For Ranma, her speed was high enough that she seemed, to herself, to be moving at normal speeds.
Her opponents were not so fortunate.
Ranma's feet caught Tatsu straight up into his crotch. He folded like a cheap beach chair, collapsing to the ground and grasping his groin. Ranma, in the meantime, continued to fly straight up, turning a somersault in midair to land on her feet.
Joachim was less flat-footed than his companion. He stepped back and fell into a combat stance, though the look of shock on his face belied any warning. Obviously, he'd not expected a mud-covered, mostly-naked woman to come flying out of his floor. His stance and reaction time demonstrated that at some point, he'd practiced some martial art or another. Ranma grinned; this would make his beat-down just that more satisfying.
Ranma feinted, more to get a measure of this guy's skill, and Joachim blocked, a high-hand move that tickled Ranma's memory. Ranma threw a second punch, this time for effect, and again was parried. Joachim followed up the parry with a front snap kick, which Ranma dodged, and then a sweeping kick, with the same leg, that she ducked.
She had the style pegged now. She threw a kick of her own, and recovered badly from the block, leaving an obvious opening. He fell for it, throwing a kick to her side. She snagged it, and tossed him backwards. He described most of a full circle in mid-air before crashing to the floor.
Her danger sense pinged, and she leaned to the side as the crack of a pistol filled the room. She pivoted, her left foot coming around and smacking the sidearm from Tatsu's hand. Joachim was starting to rise; a step forward and an axe-kick put him back on the ground. She dropped to one arm, her legs sweeping out and back to knock Tatsu down as well, and she rolled to come to rest with one knee on his chest. She cocked a fist above his head, waited until he realized his position.
She grinned wolfishly. "This is for Akane."
The fist came down.
"One boat got away." Corporal Evans safed his rotary grenade launcher. "The MINIMIs got some hits on it, but it's still moving, and it's out of our fire range."
"All right. Good work, Corporal." Ibuki glanced over at the camp. "What about those idiots in the armory?"
"We've got them holed up, but they've got all the ammo they'll need to hold us off until Judgement Day." Evans scowled. "Corporal Brigham has his fire-team on that, but they can't just open up, or they'll risk cooking off the ammo in there. And we still don't know where Sergeant Saotome is."
Ibuki nodded. "Well, she knows how to avoid fire. We'll--Oh." Ibuki chuckled. "Here she comes."
Indeed, the aforementioned Sergeant was approaching them, a body in each hand. She'd grasped them by the belt, and was forced to carry them high to avoid dragging them on the ground, even though they were doubled over. She marched up to Ibuki.
"Lieutenant. I hope you'll forgive me for not saluting."
"Not a problem, Sergeant. You're not wearing your cover anyway. Or much else."
"With all due respect, Sir, stop starin' at my tits." She grinned, and tossed the larger of her two burdens at his feet. "This guy is the base commander here. And this asshole..." She tossed the smaller one down. "He's the guy that was gonna nuke Tokyo."
Ibuki raised his eyebrows. "You dragged two corpses out here because...?"
"Not corpses, Sir." Ranma shook her head. "Prisoners. Now, you wanna hand me my jacket, or at least some hot water, Sir? I'm feelin' a bit self-conscious."
"Didn't bring my tea-kit." Ibuki tossed her a jacket. "Here. Now, we got this problem over in the ammo shed."
"Ammo shed? Blow it up."
"We don't know how far the shrapnel's going to fly." Ibuki shook his head. "So we'd really rather not do that."
"Sir, there's, what, forty of us?" Ranma jerked a thumb towards the hills. "We can take cover, blow it from a distance."
"We're supposed to take as many prisoners as we can--"
"We can be cops, or we can be Marines, Sir. I don't see a third--Hey."
"An idea?"
"No." Ranma rubbed her ear. "You hear somethin'?"
Ibuki paused, and said, "Yeah." He shouldered his rifle, took a step towards the bay. "Is Shankland starting her beaching?"
"That ain't a diesel engine, Sir," said Ranma. "We've lived cheek-by-jowl with one of them for the last year, and that don't sound like one. Sounds like..."
"A jet?"
"Still too low-pitched. I dunno what--" Ranma broke off, and pointed at the ground. "Shit. It's an earthquake."
"Everyone!" Ibuki turned and yelled. "Into the open! Out of the buildings, away from the trees, we got an earthquake coming!"
"Rocks dancin', trees shakin'...yeah." Ranma glanced around. "Third Squad is still..." She looked up. "No. Not an earthquake. Look, Sir!"
Ibuki followed her glance.
The horizon to the east was glowing like a sunrise, though the sun was already well overhead. He stared, open-mouthed, as a billowing line of fire cut across the sky, crossing south of them at ridiculous speed. The shockwave of its passage shook the island like a dog shaking a bone. He saw the huts collapsing, the ammo shed exploding as the vibrations tore through it.
The heatwave from the object's passage hit next, kindling the dry trees and causing them to burst into flame. The ground bucked beneath his feet, knocking him over.
"Get to higher ground!" Sergeant Saotome grabbed his arm, dragged him vertical again. "Move, Sir! All troops, proceed to the hills. Get as high as you can! Now, now, now!"
"Saotome, what--"
"Tsunami. I can see it comin', we got maybe sixty seconds. Move!"
The lookout fumbled his field glasses to his eyes, then tossed them aside and yelled, "Tsunami off the port bow, ten o'clock!"
"Left standard rudder, all ahead full!" The exec snapped out the order by instinct, then glanced over at the lookout. "Please tell me you're kidding."
"No, Sir, we got a big wave coming in!"
"Fuck." The exec stabbed the comm. "Captain to the bridge, tsunami incoming."
"I'm here, Leon." Captain Hayase stepped onto the bridge deck, still closing his jacket. He grabbed the PA mike. "All crew, below decks and secure for weather." He hung up the mike. "Rudder amidships. All ahead flank. Crewman Jacobsen. Report."
"Tsunami coming from the south, Sir, following the path of the meteor."
"What meteor?"
"It went overhead a minute or so ago. Shockwave shook the ship."
"I'd just thought we'd hit some chop." Hayase eyeballed the approaching wave, and picked up the mike again. "All hands, brace for impact, ten seconds." He dropped into his chair, and quickly buckled himself in.
Shankland struck the wall of water bow-on, pitching up as she did so. The wave swamped the forward deck completely, and the Captain pulled his cap down over his eyes. The bridge windows shattered, spraying the bridge crew with shards of glass propelled by the massive wave. Then they were through, the Shankland listing badly to port. Screams could now be heard on the bridge, and the Captain adjusted his cap again.
"Corpsman to the bridge. Damage control parties to the weather deck." He unbuckled himself and stood up, wincing as he did so. He glanced down, saw a shard of glass protruding from his leg, staining his white uniform pants with blood. "Leon?"
"Exec's down, Sir." The helmsman, Petty Officer David, was crouched next to the Commander. "Knocked his head against the hatch when it popped."
"All right, Corpsman is on his way. PO David, contact all section leaders and see how bad our casualties are."
"Aye, Sir."
The Captain limped to the helm column, and ran the telegraph back down to half speed. He tapped an internal comm. "ChEng, report."
"What the fuck was that?" The Chief Engineer sounded shaken.
"Tsunami. How are we faring in your department?"
"Three crewmen knocked about, but no real casualties. Portside engine is drowned. We'll get it drained out in five minutes. The entire portside crew compartment is flooded. Bailing pumps already started, and we'll have trim again in twenty or thirty minutes."
"Alert me when you have the portside engine up again."
"Aye Sir."
Hayase released the intercom stud, and stared at the blackened strip of sky ahead.
Ranma glanced around her gathering troops.
"Where's the Lieutenant?"
"No idea." Corporal Evans looked to be in shock. "Brigham's missing too, as well as the entire Fourth Squad."
"What about the bad guys?"
"We didn't leave too many alive, Sarge." Evans looked down at the body at his feet. "This little prick, I dragged up this fucking hill, but the bigger guy was still down there."
The saddle between the two hills was still awash, though it was draining. The camp was just plain gone, swept away by the massive wave.
"How many effectives we got?"
"Between the waves and the bad guys...well, we're down to fifteen men. Aside from ourselves." Evans scowled. "I thought you had the Lieutenant."
"We got separated." Ranma sighed. "Radio?"
"We can contact Shankland, but they've probably got their hands full."
"Yeah."
"Sarge!" Private Velikovsky waved, and Ranma trotted over.
"Lieutenant!" Ranma knelt beside the man, and felt at his throat. "Got a pulse." She sat back. "Medic!"
Ibuki groaned. "Sarge--"
"Keep quiet, Sir, the medic is on his way. I think you're gonna be on the sick list for a while."
"First The Rock, then Thunderball, now Armageddon." Ibuki grinned weakly. "Why can't I star in a porno?"
Ranma chuckled. "Because shore leave was cut short."
"Sarge." Evans dropped the radio pack beside Ranma. "Shankland on the horn."
"Thanks, Mike." Ranma grabbed the telephone-shaped mouthpiece. "Delta-Two."
"How did you make out through that weather, Sergeant?"
"Not too well, Major." Ranma sighed. "Aside from myself, we got seventeen survivors, maybe a few more on the other hill. Lieutenant Ibuki survived, but is a casualty, and I think Private Roberts is also among the walking wounded." She paused as a star-shell went up from the other island. "Okay, we got signal from south island. Wait one." She toggled the mute. "Corporal, get something for semaphore, find out who's on the other hill." She opened the channel again. "We've confirmed at least one survivor on the south hill."
"Shankland is running at flank speed to the island. We took some knocking about, but no fatalities and no missing. Damage is limited, and ChEng has a hand on it; we'll be fully shipshape in a few more hours."
"Some good news, anyway."
"Good thing the Skipper knows how to drive this boat." The simulated Major paused. "What about the mission?"
"One prisoner. The rest...well, if we didn't kill 'em, the wave certainly did." Ranma grinned wolfishly, and wished the Major could see it. "But this one goon we did capture...he's worth the rest. Trust me on this."
"How do you mean, Sarge?"
"I mean this asshole's gonna justify everythin' we do, Sir. Capturin' him made my decade."
Dear Misa,
I'll humour you, and write my eMails the same way. Why not? It's good practice learning my Basic.
We came through our mission pretty good, though I can't tell you a lot more than that, due to operational security. Your pop decided to drop my team into a bad situation. No sweat, though. My team is the best. We ended up doing the whole job ourselves.
I wasn't sure if I could tell you what happened next, but then I saw it on the TV. Something, like a giant meteor or such, smacked into the Earth. Well, it overflew us, and the tidal wave and flash fires it caused did us some damage. Your pop turns out to be the best boat driver in the Pacific, though. He steered the boat right through the wave like a surfer or something. He picked us up, and we're steaming out to help out another boat - I can't tell you which one, sorry. But after that...well, we're in the best shape in this part of the Pacific.
I'd bet anything from yen to Nabiki's private files that we're going to be sent out to check out the impact site.
Sincerely, Saotome Ranma.
