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
Sixteen: Bittersweet Homecoming
April 28th, 2010
Science and Technology Report
Prepared by Cmdr. Nabiki Tendo, Intelligence Division
The Battle Pod
Most numerous of the enemy forces that we have faced to date, the Battle Pod - this being a tentative designation until we learn its proper name - is a surprisingly well-designed machine. Its controls are very simple, allowing any person to learn its operation in a very short time. Of course, it is required for the operator to be twenty meters tall in order to use it. Testing of captured Battle Pods required the assistance of a Valkyrie pilot, in his machine.
Despite its design elements, it remains a very fragile machine, however. The designers of the weapon system did not appear to place a high value on the survival of its operator. Its armour is fifty centimeters equivelant in thickness across the main belt, which will deflect small arms, but does not stand up well to fire from a GU-11. Certain points - such as the viewport at the front of the robot - are much more vulnerable to attack.
Many of the components in the machine appear to be shockingly primitive. Its fusion reactor is somewhat inferior to our own designs, and the computer support is nearly non-existent. However, the weapon systems are considerably better than our own. The unit carries two rear-facing turreted lasers - all but identical to the ones used on the Valkyrie - as well as four forward-mounted weapons. The lower weapons are chemical slug-throwers, firing inert 13.3mm projectiles. Each gun carries five hundred rounds, and can fire twenty-five rounds per second. The upper weapons are neutral particle beam cannon, of limited use in atmosphere but very potent in vacuum. Each weapon carries sufficient ballast for five thousand shots, and can fire thirty-six shots per second.
The one primary advantage that the enemy has with the Battle Pod, however, is that they have a lot of them. Based on battlefield reports, the enemy has fielded as many as a thousand Pods in one sortie; this is five times the number of Valkyries that we have in total. There is no reason to suspect that a thousand is the most that they can field.
"You know," said Ranma conversationally, "I don't think these guys want to let us through."
He yanked the G lever, and his new VF-1J reconfigured and spun on the spot. The GU-11 came up, and he dispatched three Battle Pods with precision bursts. Another shift back to fighter, and he rocketed towards the next knot of bandits.
"Does seem that way, doesn't it?" Roy was a fair distance away, leading the Rogers' First Flight against a knot of Fighter Pods that were screening an enemy destroyer. "Wonder why?"
There had been some shuffling of the TO&E since Ranma's capture and subsequent return. Roy was now CAG, as there were finally enough Squadrons to call them an Air Group. Jackson had been called back to the Skull to take Ranma's place as Flight Leader Charlie. But upon Ranma's return, Jackson had been pulled to some staff position, and Ranma had his old job back.
Herding nuggets.
Fun.
Ranma glanced over his shoulder, reconfigured again, and brought the rifle up to his Battroid's shoulder. One burst smashed through the porthole on the front of a Battle Pod that was sneaking up on one of his pilots. "Craig, watch six."
"Thanks, Sir."
"As I was sayin', Roy, there's gotta be some reason why they don't want us to reach the planet."
"Heads up. Here comes one of those new models."
Ranma cursed. He'd faced off with the powered armour three times since his return. The top brass had refused, at first, to believe that the stupidly agile and heavily armed machine was restricted to the Zentraedi female troops. But between Ranma's report of having faced them before, and from having learned that the Zentraedi were rigidly segregated, they'd finally conceded the point.
And Ranma had learned why the Zentraedi women were their Special Forces units. They were good.
He shifted back to Gerwalk mode, locked the target up, and pickled off two Diamondback missiles. The enemy pilot shot them down with short controlled bursts from the forearm cannons, but did not return fire. Ranma shifted to Battroid again, cannon readied, but to his surprise, the powered armour unit ignored him. He glanced down at his instruments, and noted heavy communications traffic on the Zentraedi frequencies. They hadn't decoded their encryption yet, but it shortly became obvious what was happening as the Battle Pods broke off and rocketed towards their ships.
"What the hell...?"
Ranma approached the armour cautiously, weapons still ready, and flipped on his head-mounted camera. The camera had a good telescopic lens, which he played over the armour. Maybe the intel weenies can get something from this... He noted several decorations on the unit's plastron, including a rank marking which they had managed to decipher in the past.
"Skull Lead, this is Thirteen. That powered armour unit is just sittin' there."
"All the male units are breaking off...Yours must just be the messenger."
"Yeah, but she's a high-ranking officer. Probably one of their aces. Why would they send one of their top pilots to herd a bunch of troops back home?"
Captain Global was, for the most part, willing to obey orders. At his rank, there were not many who could issue him orders, as even those people as much as two pay grades above him were not technically in his line of command. Not since the death of Commodore Tremblay, and the destruction of eight out of the ten ships of SDB-01.
But like any other high-ranking officer, he retained the right to question said orders. His most recent orders were ones that he felt he had to question.
He'd argued about the defense of Earth. And had been told that it was not his job.
He'd protested on the grounds that Macross' civilian population had not enlisted, and were put into harm's way by his orders. And had been told that they'd already been declared officially dead.
He'd made mention of the critical fact that Commander Hayase had brought to him, that the enemy forces exceeded four million ships, even the smallest of which was larger than Macross. And had been informed that Commander Hayase was mistaken.
He'd even gone so far as to question the moral courage of the Admiral giving him the orders. And had been told that he was being insubordinate.
Well, maybe so. But by thunder, he was also right.
But he had his orders. Orders that were given without a scrap of humanity behind them - God almighty, the Zentraedi showed more concern for their own people! It really left him with no choice. He'd informed the bridge crew, and much to his nonsurprise, they'd elected to back him on this.
And so, for the first time in nine months, Macross returned to the surface of the world she'd left. Admirals screamed at him over the airwaves, but he paid them no heed. Re-entry left a burning trail behind the ship as she made two orbits to cut her speed. UN Air Force fighters scattered like leaves rather than intercept her, and Carrier Battle Group 65 scrambled out of the way of her projected touchdown point. She fell through the atmosphere like a shooting star, and splashed down in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.
"You'd think they'd at least give us a day to recover from the last nine months," groused Misa. She stalked about her quarters, grabbing articles of clothing, documents, reports, and various other items, jamming them into her duffel.
"I'm just amazed they're letting anyone off this boat," said Ranma. She was kicked back on Misa's sofa, feet on her coffee table. "Sure I can't help?"
"Thanks again for offering, Ranma, but most of the documents I need to take are above your security level."
"Even though many of them involve events I was in the middle of."
"Even so." Misa chuckled. But her momentary good humour faded as fast as it had come. "At least you're getting something closer to a real vacation."
"What, takin' Minmay to Yokohama?" She chuckled. "That is gonna be a mess. On more than one front. Ichigyo's pissed at me, 'cause Minmay asked me to drive an' not him. I gotta spend pretty much the entire week in female form, partly so Minmay's folks don't freak, but mostly because I don't want the instruments in the plane to get soaked. You know how she is."
"Yeah," laughed Misa.
"And I hadda get checked out on that little fan jet they gave her--correction, that they gave you, and you gave to her." Ranma scowled. "I understand you givin' her the recording rights, the movie rights, all that crap, but why didn't you at least keep the jet?"
"I don't have a pilot's license."
"And she does?"
"Perhaps you should have tried harder to win the contest," said Misa with a grin. "Then the jet would be yours."
Ranma snorted. "I'll stick with the Valkyrie, thanks."
"Try suggesting to Minmay that she take flight instruction," suggested Misa. "She's only sixteen, but there's no age limit on a private license. Given her hectic schedule, though, she might only have an hour a week to devote to flying."
Ranma rubbed her lips with a finger. "Good idea. She once told me she was interested in flyin'."
"Think she's got talent there?"
She shook her head. "Nope. But like I told her. Practise and brains. She's not stupid, just young and flighty. There is one problem, though."
"What's that?"
"No ground school on Macross, save for one: The military one."
The little fan jet rocketed off the deck of the Daedalus, and Ranma slowly brought the nose up and started his climb. She checked the instruments, saw the gear lights shift to indicate wheels up, and advanced the throttles further. The engine roared, and she grinned at the surge of power.
"For such a small plane, this thing packs some pretty good power."
"Yeah," said Minmay. "It sure is exciting. And I'll get to see Mom and Dad again, and show you my home city--"
"Hey, Minmay. If it's all right with you, I'd like to stop and see my Mom. She's in Yokohama as well."
"Really?" She blinked. "Are you from there as well?"
"No," she chuckled. "I'm from Nerima, but my mom relocated to Yokohama when she started her company. I haven't seen her in fifteen years."
"Oh." Minmay nodded. "I'd love to meet her, too."
"No problem," said Ranma. "But I gotta warn you...she's a little old-fashioned. So no splashin' me with water while we're there. Mom doesn't really like my girl form. An' I'd really appreciate it if you said nothin' at all about me bein' in the pageant. Mom just wouldn't understand."
"Okay, I promise."
"Thanks, Minmay." She paused. "Did you notice that you've got flight controls in the back there?"
"Yes." Minmay nodded. "I didn't want to touch them, since you're driving."
She hesitated, then said, "You wanna give it a try?"
Minmay gasped. "Are you sure that's safe?"
"I'm pretty sure I can recover the airplane, no matter what you try. Just lemme put on some more altitude, and we'll let you try the plane."
"I'm really sorry, Ranma." It was perhaps the fifteenth time she'd apologized.
Ranma rolled her eyes. "Look, Minmay, it's all right. Really. I recovered the airplane, even though it cost us two kilometers of altitude. And it was the first time you touched a stick. I ain't surprised you bobbled the plane."
"I guess I have no talent after all," she said.
"Like I said before, we can get you the trainin' to compensate for lack of talent. You'll never be a fighter pilot," admitted Ranma, "but at least you'll be able to fly that little plane."
"Really?"
"Yep. You listened to what I told you, and you grasped the concepts readily enough. You've got the drive, and the willingness to learn. You can do it."
The teenager launched herself towards her and hugged her.
"Yikes!" Ranma laughed. "I thought the Amazons had a patent on that sorta glomp."
"Will you teach me to fly?"
Ranma shook her head. "Love to. But I gotta fly combat, and that means I don't have a lot of spare time. But I can pull some strings, can set you up with an instructor for ground school, and by the time you finish that, I can probably get some free time to fly with you on your dual hours."
"Thanks!"
"But I gotta warn you," continued Ranma. "Ground school is tough. They're gonna hit you with a tonne of homework, there's gonna be a lot of math, and the pass rate is ninety percent."
"You mean only ten percent fail?"
"No," she said. "I mean you gotta score at least a ninety on each and every test, or you fail."
"Oh." Minmay looked up. "We're nearly there."
Ranma grabbed her wallet and flipped through it. "Your folks accept UN script?"
"Yes," said Minmay. "But I doubt you'll have to pay for anything."
Ranma grinned. "Even the way I eat?" She looked up. "Golden Dragon. Your family got a thing for dragons?"
"Of course!" She opened the door, the bell above it jingling merrily. "Hello?"
There was only one person inside, a Japanese woman, perhaps a few years older than Ranma. "Welcome to--" Her jaw dropped. "Minmay!"
Ranma hung back, to allow Minmay the limelight. She was fussed over by her father and mother, and her cousin - Saochin's son, apparently. But soon enough, her mother turned to Ranma. "And who is this?"
"Saotome Ranma," supplied Minmay. "She's a fighter pilot, and a former Marine, and she's got a lot of decorations - she saved Tokyo! And she's considered the best pilot aboard Macross."
Her cousin snorted. "What's so great about being a murderer?"
Ranma scowled. She opened her mouth, with full intention of shutting his, but Minmay beat her to the punch.
"Kaifunn, that's not very nice. Ranma has saved many lives--"
"And how many has she ended?"
That was more than enough. Ranma stepped forward. "I take it that you have a problem with the military, Ling?"
The man nodded. "War produces nothing but devastation and death. 'Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent.'"
"Quotin' Asimov? Well, I happen to agree with that."
This seemed to surprise Ling. But before he could respond, Ranma continued.
"You see, I joined the JSDF, and then the UN Forces, because somebody decided that they could use violence to get what they want, and I lost someone very close to me. We don't start wars. We try to stop them from happenin', and if they do, we try to keep it from hurtin' innocents. Like you."
"If proper diplomacy is involved, war can always be avoided."
She smirked. "You wanna trade quotes? Try this one: 'War is the continuation of diplomacy by non-diplomatic means.'"
Ling blinked.
"Anyway," said Ranma, "I don't wanna cause any friction at a homecomin'. So how about we drop the verbal fencing and agree to disagree?"
Ling nodded slowly. "Fair enough."
"This is the address," Ranma said. He glanced down at the scrap of paper. "I doubt that Nabs would give me the wrong one, and I know she said the office was part of the building, but..."
"It's huge!" gushed Minmay.
"Yeah." Ranma hesitated, then pressed the intercom button on the gate.
"Yes?" An unfamiliar voice, probably one of Tennasaono's security girls.
"Saotome Ranma, to see Saotome Nodoka."
The gate buzzed, and swung open. Ranma and Minmay started up the walkway. It was perhaps a hundred meters from the gate to the front doors. "I know that Mom and Nabs were makin' a killing in this business, but I didn't expect--"
"Ranma!" Nodoka was rushing towards them from the house. "I thought you were dead!"
"Mom?" Ranma blinked; was it really her? "You look--well, good. Great, even."
Jarring was a closer word. Gone were the kimono and sword; Nodoka was wearing a dark green pantsuit with a white collared shirt. He could not ever recall her wearing anything but formal garb before. Her hair was unbound, and fell past her shoulders. And her resemblance to Ranma's female form was more startling than ever.
Nodoka hugged her son, tears threatening in her eyes. "Oh, I thought I'd lost you!"
"Mom, it was just a deployment - a little irregular, but--"
"They told us that terrorists had bombed South Ataria Island. That everyone there was dead."
"They did?" Ranma blinked. He put his hands on her shoulder, and gently pushed her back a bit. "You're certain of that? They didn't say anything about the war?"
"What war?"
"They didn't even mention the aliens?"
"Aliens?" Nodoka looked more confused by the moment. "Are you feeling all right, son?"
"Yeah, except that I got a bad feelin' about what's been goin' on on Earth."
Nodoka noticed Minmay for the first time. "And who is this?"
"Ling Minmay." She bowed. "I'm a friend of Ranma's, from Macross."
"Oh." Nodoka looked her up and down. "Well, I'm most pleased to meet you." She glanced back to Ranma. "And I'm glad to see you've moved on, Ranma."
"Mom--"
"Minmay, dear, I'd be happy if you called me 'Mother.'"
"Mom!" Ranma raised a hand. "I know this is odd comin' from me, but I ain't engaged to her or anythin'."
"No?" Nodoka looked surprised. "And I thought that my manly son would have brought home the woman that he loved."
"She had to go to Alaska," said Ranma. "Military stuff."
"So there is someone!"
"Yeah, and I think you'd like her," chuckled Ranma. "But Minmay's a good friend, who I was givin' a lift to visit family. And since I was in the neighbourhood..."
"Please, both of you. Come in." Nodoka gestured towards the house. "We can get caught up."
"Yeah, good idea." Ranma frowned. "I wanna hear more about this supposed terrorist attack."
"It is quite simple," stated Admiral Hayase. "If we told the people of Earth that we were involved in a war with aliens, there would have been mass panic."
Misa stared at his face on the massive screen, several feet over their heads. "Father--"
"Despite our relation, Commander Hayase," interrupted the Admiral, "it would be more appropriate if you referred to me by rank. This is a formal debriefing."
"Yes, Sir." Hayase drew in a breath. "If the Zentraedi launch an attack on Earth, we will be powerless to stop them."
"Which makes it irrelevant if they know or not," pointed out another member of the board. "So why borrow trouble?"
"Because it's their right to know," snapped Misa.
"Nonsense," objected Admiral Hayase. "That sort of left-wing idealism is what got us into the mess with the Anti-Unification rebels."
"Admiral, I--"
"If people had the ability to make informed decisions, then we could welcome their input. But people think with their stomachs, not their backbones. The interests of a civilian rarely extend past their own needs."
"I think," said Global, "that several of those civilians might surprise you."
"Yes, but as a whole, they don't. That is why we have a military, Colonel." Hayase glanced back to his daughter. "So that we can protect them, so they don't even have to think about the dangers lurking outside our borders."
Misa winced; the Admiral was all but quoting one of the three central maxims of the UN Armed Forces. Which meant that the other two were probably shortly to appear.
"As to whether or not they have a right to know, it seems to me that if they'd put on the uniform, shown that they were willing to serve their planet, they'd have that information. They'd have their say. Because the only rights they have are the ones that they can take for themselves, or that we, their chosen representatives, choose to enshrine."
Yep. There they are.
Global shifted in his seat. "That's all well and good, but the simple fact is that these civilians have made no choice to be physically transported far from home and family. This is the sort of thing that our military is there to prevent. When shall we be returning them home?"
"I'm sorry, Colonel," said Hayase. "I thought you understood. These people cannot be returned. They have already been declared officially dead."
Global was on his feet, an incredulous expression on his face. "You're joking!"
"No, Colonel, I assure you that we are not." This came from the Admiral on the left, whose name Misa hadn't bothered remembering. "We had to tell people something, after all, and if we send these people home, they will only start the very panic we are trying to avoid."
Global was seething. "So to protect your own reputations, you are sending sixty thousand civilians to their deaths."
"You are forgetting your place, Colonel." Hayase's voice was waspish. "This completes this phase of the debriefing. We will contact you when we have your new orders."
The screens darkened, and Global cursed mightily in Italian.
"'Colonel'." Misa spat the word. "They should call you Captain. You still have command of Macross, so you still have the title. So much for my father's love of naval tradition." She glanced over at him. "Well, Skipper?"
"As I feared. These paranoid idiots are not going to permit the survivors to leave the ship, and those survivors are going to riot when they hear the news. They're close enough to home that they could almost walk the rest of the way."
"So what do we tell them?"
Global considered. "We'll have to tell them the truth. Anything less would be an insult."
"If I may, Captain," offered Misa, "I should be the one to tell them. They might take it a little better coming from Miss Macross." Her tone took on an air of disgust with the last two words, and Global chuckled.
"They just might, yes."
"So lemme see if I got all this straight," said Ranma. "They told ya that me an' everyone else on the island was killed in a terrorist attack, and they didn't tell you at all about the war?"
Nodoka nodded, her eyes still wide at the notion that her son and her business partner were still alive. "But you're telling me that a fleet of alien warships - four million or so - is hovering just outside our solar system, waiting to strike?"
Ranma chuckled. "Not really 'just outside', and I'm not certain they're really interested in killin' us. They just want Macross."
"Oh, dear." Nodoka paused. "Do you think that...if we just give them the ship, they might go away?"
"I dunno," admitted Ranma. "Apparently, they've got some religious taboo against dealin' with us, even fightin' us, but that hasn't slowed them down yet. And their leader, Bodolze, said that we were a contamination." He paused. "They might try to wipe us out."
"Oh." Nodoka frowned, and asked, "Do you think we could beat them?"
"There's four million of their ships, and most of 'em are big," said Ranma. "If we can find out why they're afraid of us, maybe we can use that against them. But in a straight-up fight..." He shook his head. "No way in hell."
Minmay turned to say something, but whatever it was was lost when her sleeve caught the water glass on the table. It tumbled with uncanny accuracy, and landed in Ranma's lap.
"Oh no!" Minmay was aghast. "I'm so sorry, Ranma! I was trying really really hard not to--" She turned to Nodoka. "I'm really sorry, Mrs. Saotome. Ranma told me you don't like to see--"
Nodoka giggled. "Don't worry, dear. True, I'd rather see my manly son, but I've sort of accepted that occasionally, he's my beautiful daughter."
Ranma scowled, and wrung out her uniform shirt. "Doesn't mean I like it at all." She glanced up at Minmay, and chuckled at the expression on the teenager's face. "You didn't do it on purpose, Minmay. For a switch. Don't panic."
"Does she normally do it on purpose?"
"Yeah, Mom, she does." Ranma chuckled. "First time she saw me, I was in girl form, and I had my mess dress uniform on. So I had all my ribbons on, and she picked them out, and decided that I must be cooler than I actually am--"
"Titanium Medal of Valour, with cluster for repeat decoration," pointed out Minmay. "Fighter wings, Ace's Ribbon, Rifle Marksmanship, Purple Heart, and let's not forget, you just got a Silver Star. I think that proves your cooler than you think you are."
Nodoka had stars in her eyes. "Oh, my manly son!"
"Anyway, she sorta latched onto me as a role model, and when she found out I was really a guy, she took to dousin' me every time she saw me."
"I see." Nodoka turned to Minmay. "Will you be joining the armed forces as well, Minmay?"
"I dunno," admitted Minmay. "Ranma said she'd teach me how to fly, but it's still two years away before I can sign up. Since she's arranging a military person to teach me the basics, they'll probably want me in the forces."
"Well, you could easily choose a worse role model than my son," said Nodoka. "But tell me: This girl that he's dating."
"Mom," said Ranma warningly.
"What's she like?"
Minmay grinned. "She's the second-in-command of our ship, and she won the beauty pageant."
The stars returned to Nodoka's eyes, and Ranma's forehead banged onto the table top.
May 5th, 2010
"Gunsight One, this is Flight Three One Three Five, civilian, requesting permission to enter the pattern."
"Three One Three Five, Gunsight Two. Gunsight One is off the deck. Please state your authorization code."
"Sierra Romeo Seven Five."
"Ranma!" Claudia's voice took on a more cheerful note. "About time you got back. You're cleared to approach Prometheus. You are number six in the queue. Descend to Angels Six, squawk seven zero zero six for ATC."
"Roger, Gunsight Two."
"And as soon as you park that toy, report to Commander Hayase, pronto."
"Got it." Ranma clicked off the microphone. "All right, kids, maybe fifteen minutes before we're on final."
"And about time," groused Kaifunn.
"Buddy, you're just lucky I gave you a lift," said Ranma. "Now, I want both of you to grab the back of my seat with both hands."
"Is the landing going to be that rough?" asked Minmay.
"No. But carrier landings are a heck of a lot harder than airstrip landings, and I don't want to chance either of you accidentally bumping the stick." She clicked the mic. "Prometheus ATC, Three One Three Five. I have no hook, and need a full deck rollout."
"Acknowledged, Three Five."
Ranma touched the button, heard the sound of the announcer past the hatch. There was a pause, and the hatch slid open.
He avoided the impulse to take a step back. Misa looked horrible. Her eyes were red from tears, and her hair was in disarray.
"What happened?" Ranma felt a bit unsure of himself. "Was the debrief that bad?"
"Please...come in." Misa stepped back, and Ranma walked into the cabin. He noted several pictures of her father, ones that normally lived on the bulkhead, sitting on her coffee table. Also, there was a piece of paper, with UN Spacy letterhead, the sort that usually arrived with official orders on it.
Misa walked mechanically into the kitchenette. "Tea?"
"Sure."
"You're right. The debriefing was rather unpleasant."
"How so?"
"Well, my father decided that everyone aboard Macross is officially dead."
"I heard about that before I left," admitted Ranma. "They'd already told the Captain."
"Yes, but even after we landed--I mean, there's no way to conceal the fact that we came back. We overflew San Francisco, Honolulu...Why are they still keeping up the act?"
"My mom thought I was dead, as well." Ranma leaned back into the sofa, and frowned. "Terrorist attack, they said."
"Yes." Misa nodded. "It might have made sense to declare us all dead when we vanished without a trace. But after we come back--!"
Ranma nodded. "Yeah."
"And to top it all off..." Misa waved towards the official document. "My father has cut orders to have me recalled from Macross and transferred to the Alaska base."
"What?" Ranma leaned forward. "Can he do that? Never mind, silly question."
"He can do it," admitted Misa. "But if Captain Global objects, and I object, we can stall it until Macross is underway again. At which point only Captain Global could order me off the ship."
"Well, that's good, at least." Ranma sighed. "Jeez...Your dad seems to make it a hobby to put the worst possible face on stuff."
"Well, he did allow you and I to keep writing to each other," laughed Misa. "Of course, he wasn't at all happy to hear that you and I were dating."
"My mom was," said Ranma. He snorted. "Minmay had to go and open her big mouth."
"Is it a bad thing that your mother knows?" Misa's voice turned a touch frosty.
"Just that she'll assume that we're gettin' married any second now, or else we should be."
"Oh." She giggled. "A bit old-fashioned, I think you called her once."
"Yeah."
Misa stepped back out of the kitchenette, and set a cup of tea on the coffee table. "He also sent me a personal letter. It said that I was 'obviously under several bad influences' on this ship - meaning you and the Captain - and that I 'would be better off in a groundside position.'"
"Right," snorted Ranma.
"I tore that one up," she admitted. "I didn't even finish it."
"That couldn't have been easy."
"Easier than I thought." She paused, to sip her tea. "To tell the truth...it's getting a lot harder to think of him as my father anymore."
"I know that feelin'."
"Ranma..." She turned to face him. "I'm sorry to dump all this on you."
He shrugged. "It's part of my job, right?"
"Job?" She chuckled. "You're XO of the Jolly Rogers, not the ships' shrink."
"But I'm also your boyfriend. Or at least a reasonable hand-drawn facsimile."
Misa smirked.
"So cheerin' you up, bein' there to hear your problems...it's my job. Right?"
"Well, yes." Misa smiled crookedly. "But any kind of friend would help that way. I want some more specific help."
Ranma swallowed nervously. "What did you have in mind?"
"Well, first, I want to go out and get drunk." She grinned. "Haven't done that since I finished Basic."
"Sure. The O-Club will be open." Ranma stood up, but Misa shook her head.
"Not the O-Club. I'm not going in uniform. I want...a break from all things military."
"Okay. There's Ben's Pub, down in the city." Ranma glanced down at his uniform. "I'll have to stop at my cabin for some civvies."
"Sounds like a plan," said Misa. She started unbuttoning her jacket. "Let me get changed, and then we'll duck over to your cabin."
"You said, 'first'. What about after we're both plastered?"
Misa glanced over her shoulder. "After that...we'll come back here and you can help me sleep it off."
