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

Twenty-One: Defection

July 14th, 2010

Goals and Intentions Report

Prepared by Cmdr. Nabiki Tendo, Intelligence Division

Zentraedi Culture

To date, the most information available on the Zentraedi culture has been gathered by five individuals: Commander Hayase Misa, Squadron Lieutenants Ichigyo Hikaru, Saotome Ranma and Maximilian Jenius, and Flight Lieutenant Kakizaki Hayao. These five were captured by the Zentraedi. Three were interrogated by the Zentraedi Commander-In-Chief, while two others, having eluded capture, attempted to blend into the Zentraedi populace while trying to locate and recover the other three. The data gathered by these five is, of course, incomplete, but paints an unpleasant picture.

The Zentraedi appear to be a culture dedicated to warfare. This was already suspected, due to the nature of the compartments found aboard Macross upon her arrival. However, intelligence gathered by Lt. Saotome suggests that Macross was not originally a Zentraedi ship.

Commander Vwritlai, of the Zentraedi, stated that Macross was apparently a ship of a group called the Inspection Army, which he and his fleet were hunting. The presence of reconfigurable aircraft aboard Macross upon her arrival, plus evidence of combat between the original inhabitants of the ship and combat robots now known to be Zentraedi, supports this theory. As the Zentraedi have stated that they have no purpose outside of warfare, it can be assumed, albeit tenuously, that this "Inspection Army" is the group against whom they fight.

The Zentraedi also appear to be rigidly segregated, to the point that only their highest ranking officers of either gender may speak with each other. However, the two genders appear to be able to work together towards a common goal. It is unknown whether such co-operation is friction-free, nor is it known if we can use this factor against them. The means by which the Zentraedi procreate is also unknown.

The Zentraedi officers spoke frequently of the dangers of mental contamination. Exposure to the opposite sex, or to 'Miclones', their term for humanoids of our stature, were stated as possible contaminants. Further, the Zentraedi Commander-In-Chief, Gar Bodolze, stated that any form of culture was also a source of contamination. The Zentraedi appear to have significant mental conditioning against such sources of contamination. Even mention of such things were sufficient to cause mental turmoil, and a demonstrated sign of affection - a kiss - was sufficient to render the Zentraedi officers, even their Commander-In-Chief, completely incapacitated.

Finally, the Zentraedi appear to have found some means of altering their size. Lieutenant Saotome observed three Zentraedi who had been reduced to Miclone stature. Those three had been observed speaking with a female, proving that it is possible for the Zentraedi to work in a setting of integrated gender. However, what is not known is why the Zentraedi would use this ability, nor whether this means that they were originally Miclones, or originally giants.

But their ability to become Miclones means that the possibility of espionage exists. As they appear fully human when reduced, it is probable that they could pass unnoticed among humans. Only their reactions to mental contamination - human society - would give them away.


The prow of the Daedalus smashed into the Zentraedi destroyer, the Pin-Point Barrier system shielding the massive ship long enough to penetrate the enemy vessel's battle armour. But at that point, things started to go wrong.

"Gunsight One, Sixth Cavalry! They were ready for us, they're pourin' into the ship and--"

"Six-Five, come in!" Misa hammered her console. "Captain, they've been overrun, and intruder control reports that Zentraedi forces are boarding Daedalus."

Global scowled. "Order Windsor to make intercept."

"They'll be badly outnumbered, Sir. I suggest we call Skull in to assist as well."

"What about Blue?"

"Blue is still latched in the outer air battle, and while Snake is on the cats, the Skull is closer."

"All right, call them in."

"Aye, Sir." Misa turned and opened the Tac Net. "Skull Lead, Gunsight One. We have boarders at Daedalus. Return to ship and repel boarders."

"Gunsight One, Skull Lead. Roger that, we are RTB, Buster."

"Skull reports in, Captain, and they are heading back at top acceleration."


It was a nightmare. And he couldn't seem to wake up.

"Starboard suburb has been completely evacuated, but the aliens are ripping the place up."

"Roger that, Skull Leader. Third, I want a fire line along Moskva Prospeckt. We will attempt to contain the aliens to Starboard." Ranma's Flight was in GERWALK mode, dropping towards the city. Three of the nuggets reconfigured to Soldier, to take advantage of the cover, while the other two remained in GERWALK for the extra mobility.

"Where the hell are Windsor?" This complaint came from Rossikov, newly promoted to Skull Seven.

"CD's a gravy post. They were probably caught with their pants down. Third Cav has already been beaten down pretty badly."

Ranma noted the burned-out remains of a Spartan Destroid. The mostly-humanoid machine appeared to have suffered an ammunition explosion, most likely killing its crew, but the GU-11 gun pod was still clutched in its right hand. He jetted over to it, reconfigured to Battroid, and pried it free. The ammunition counter revealed over six hundred rounds still in its oversized magazine. He remembered a trick from the GU-11's service manual, and extended a waldo arm to flip the weapon over to fully automatic.

"Contact, approaching from starboard, I've got sixteen Pods and one Officer's."

"Who said that?"

"Sorry, that was Skull Sixteen."

Keneth Blaine, his mind filled in. Welsh, enjoys painting and sketching. "Concentrate fire on the Officer's Pod. Open up!"

Gunfire snarled from Third Flight's cannons, and was answered by massed particle cannon fire from the advancing enemy. The Officer's Pod ducked under cover, but not before Ranma got a glance at its livery.

Him again!

Then his radar went nuts. He glanced up to see rocket contrails arcing up from the enemy forces. "We got an Artillery Pod in there. Incoming rocket fire!"

The rockets were unguided, mere ballistic weapons, but on detonation released a cloud of ionized gas. Aside from its temperature, which was sufficient to burn the armour off of a Valkyrie, it also played havoc with their electronic systems. Valkyries scattered and dodged as the rockets descended on the line.

Ranma shifted back to GERWALK, jetted straight up and haloed the Artillery Pod. He thumbed his weapons guidance control, instructed a Jackhammer, and depressed the firing stud on his stick.

The ejectors kicked the GA-31B off its pylon, its engines lit off before it fell more than a meter, and it screamed towards the Artillery Pod. Inertial guidance was worthless at this range; he toggled his laser turret, and painted the Artillery Pod. The missile angled up for a second, tipped down, and disgorged its cargo of explosive submunitions.

Having fifteen over-sized hand grenades go off in mid-air all around you will wreck your entire day.

The Officer's Battle Pod leaped to the top of a nearby building, and opened up on him with all three particle cannons. He yelped and stomped left paddle, sliding his machine back towards cover. One beam struck his jet's left leg, and damage alarms went off in the cockpit. He struggled to regain control, sliding around behind a parking garage as he did, and shifted to Soldier Mode again. He braced the borrowed GU-11 along the top floor of the garage, centered the Pod in the targeting reticle - the camera mounted at the leading edge of the GU-11 making it as easy as lining up gunsights on a rifle - and held down the trigger.

He managed to keep the sights on the Pod for almost a second before it took cover, and was certain that at least fifty rounds struck the target. But it was still moving.

Damn, they make those things tough!

Then, to his amazement, the Officer's Pod emerged from cover to blast a Battle Pod.

It seemed to be some sort of signal of a change in the battle. The Zentraedi Pods ignored the Valkyries and began fighting among themselves. The Valkyrie pilots continued to hold their line, weapons at the shoulders, and watched as the enemy forces tore each other up.

"Skull Thirteen, Lead. We've got somethin' weird going on in here."

"Lead, Thirteen. Infightin' among the enemy?"

"Yeah. What do you suggest?"

Ranma shrugged - a wasted effort, over radio. "Let 'em. Makes our lives easier."

The Officer's Pod had charged off in some random direction, though it had not crossed their line. Ranma walked forwards slowly, gun pod at the ready, to where his Jackhammer had hit.

The Artillery Pod was a write-off, that much was clear, and its pilot covered in bloody shrapnel. He tried to ignore it; fifteen years in the service, and he still hated to take a life. Better to see only the machines, the robots, and try to ignore that a living being operated them.

Two other Battle Pods had been in the blast area of the Jackhammer. One was just as obviously dead as the Artillery Pod, but the other seemed to have only lost a leg. As he approached, the hatch on the back of the Pod opened, and the pilot emerged.

Ranma aimed the gun pod at the giant, and clicked on his external speakers. "Don't move, pal, or I'll gun you down."

The Zentraedi responded in halting Basic. "Prisoner. Not fight."

Ranma felt that he was approaching his limit for surprises for the day. He clicked back onto the Tac Net. "Anyone bring a Valkyrie-scale set of handcuffs?"


July 21st, 2010

The buzzer woke her from a sound sleep. She muttered in protest, and the arm draped over Misa's waist tried to pull the taller woman back towards her.

"Sorry, hon. Priority signal. I've got to answer."

Misa stood up, grabbing a robe and pulling it over her shoulders. It was more for the warmth than any privacy; she brought the commo terminal online in voice-only mode.

"Commander Hayase."

"XO, this is Commander Tendo. Captain's compliments, Ma'am, and would you join us in Briefing A?"

"Yeah, sure." Misa sighed. "Gimme ten minutes to get dressed."

There was a brief pause. "It's thirteen thirty, Ma'am." It wasn't phrased as a question, but anyone could clearly hear a question mark at the end of the statement.

Misa allowed a trace of annoyance creep into her voice. "It is also the second day of a three-day furlough, Major, and do I need to make excuses for wanting to sleep in?"

"Of course not, Commander. My apologies." Another pause, then, "I tried to call Lieutenant Saotome at his quarters, but his roommate states that he hasn't been in all day. Before I have him paged, would you happen to know where he is?"

"Yes, I do. I'll comm him and let him know you're looking for him." Misa closed the commo link, and glanced back at the bed. "You've got ten minutes to shower and dress."

"You know, technically, Nabs outranks you," commented Ranma.

"I'm the boat's XO. She can cope."

"An' thanks for tryin' to cover for me, but don't think for a second that you fooled her." She crawled out of the bed and shivered. Misa's quarters were always a degree or two cooler than she liked. "Where did I leave my uniform?"


The looks they were getting from the various assembled officers bothered Ranma, but he could hardly say anything about it. He glanced around briefly. Colonel Maistrov, Nabiki, the Skipper, Chief Engineer Lang, and Major Jackson were present, as was one of Nabs' girls. In one corner stood the Colonel in charge of the Destroid forces, a tall Spanish gentleman named Luis Alvaro. In addition, there were three other men that he didn't recognize, but something about their outfits - shapeless shifts of some sort - tickled his memory.

He snapped off a salute to the various brass. "Lieutenant Saotome, reporting as ordered."

"Thank you, Lieutenant." Global indicated a seat at the table. "If you would...?"

"Thank you, Sir." Ranma walked over to the chair. The door slid open again, and Misa walked through, and reported-as-ordered as well.

Her memory was somewhat sharper than Ranma's, and she gaped at the threesome in the rough clothing. "What the hell are they doing here?"

"Uh?" Ranma turned and looked at the threesome again. "Oh! Now I remember where I've seen those outfits before!"

"Commander Hayase, Lieutenant Saotome, these three people are Warera Nantes, Konda Bromco, and Roli Dosel. Late of the Zentraedi Armoured Infantry, Botoru Battalion, First Division, Electronic Warfare."

All three of them looked rather stunned, and Ranma realized, uncomfortably, that they were staring at Misa the way that most people stared at Minmay.

"It's Miss Macross!"

Oh. That's why.

Misa, for her part, was now a touch embarrassed. "I'm First Officer of the Macross, and head of PR. Public Relations."

They stared at her blankly.

"Never mind." She sighed, then turned to the Captain. "So what exactly are these three doing here?"

The Captain's mustache twitched, as though he were suppressing a grin. "They have defected."

"Eh?"

"Apparently, they came aboard Macross several months ago as spies. Their orders were to acquire intelligence about our culture, and report back to their superiors." Nabiki paused, and grinned. "It seems that Bodolze's concern about culture being a contaminant was correct. These three became...well, contaminated, and spread that throughout their fleet."

"Lemme guess," said Ranma. "There's more than these three, and they're already aboard the ship."

"Never should have called you stupid," mused Nabiki. "Yes, that is essentially correct. The Zentraedi you captured told us of the mass defection. Something like a hundred Zentraedi, all Micloned, have left their fleet and are living in secret aboard the ship. And have been for most of a week. We only found out about this a few days ago, through interrogation of your prisoner. And then these three showed up, claiming political asylum."

"Okay." Ranma finally took the seat that had been offered him. "And where does our giant prisoner fit into this scheme?"

"He has also requested political asylum," said Nabiki. "From our interrogation of him, we have learned that the Zentraedi use a device called a recloning chamber to change their size. Torakajiide was a Recloning Technician, but he was the only one such who was willing to defect. He could not teach any of the Zentraedi how to operate the recloning chamber."

"Ah." Ranma nodded. "And since he was full-sized, he was the only defector who really stood out."

"He could not avoid capture, no." Global spoke up for the first time. "However, once he learned that we were willing to discuss terms with the defectors, he gave us the names of their ringleaders." The Captain indicated the three Zentraedi at the table. "These three."

"Wait!" Misa stood up again, a surprised look on her face. "Are you saying that we're actually considering taking these people in?"

"Yes."

"Sir, all due respect, I think that that's a mistake."

Roli turned to face her. "Miss Macross, I can understand--"

"Aside from my position as the ship's Public Relations Officer, I am also the XO," said Misa. "And properly, my name is Commander Hayase."

"I apologize, Commander Hayase. No insult was intended."

"None taken."

"I can understand your reluctance to allow a force of enemies, even those who have forsworn the Zentraedi Imperative, to reside in this ship. As a former intelligence officer, I know that the idea of having potential...what is the Basic word? Sleeper agents."

Misa shook her head. "I'm not concerned so much about that as I am about logistics. Macross has a limited amount of supplies, and an extra hundred mouths to feed will put a strain on our food stores."

Lang spoke up at that. "Mr. Torakajiide may be able to assist us on that. As a cloning technician, he did more than simply operate the recloning chamber. He was also responsible for food production aboard his ship."

Ranma snorted. "A farmer?"

"No, Lieutenant Saotome. Food in the Zentraedi fleet is grown hydroponically, as we do with our own vegetables, but for protein sources - the very thing we are most likely to run low on - they also relied on cloning. The closest English term might be, 'carniculture.'"

"And how does that help us," asked Misa.

"We have cloning facilities on this ship," said Lang. "And Mr. Torakajiide can assist me in their operation, as they are similar enough to the Zentraedi's for him to learn them."

"So you see, Lieutenant," said Roli, "We are willing to do our part."

"There are a few other issues," said Jackson. "Which is why we've called this staff meeting. Another that needs to be considered is the fact that a good portion of our ship's population have fought the Zentraedi. Twenty-two thousand soldiers on this ship. They might not take well to finding themselves face-to-face with a Zentraedi soldier...and since the defectors are all our size now, and frequently a fair bit smaller--" He indicated Roli, who was shorter than even Ranma. "Well, they might just take it out on them."

"And Miss Hayase's comments beside the point," said Maistrov, "my own department is also concerned about sleeper agents."

"At the time that we called you," said Global, "This board was split. Myself, Chief Lang, and Commander Tendo all favoured granting asylum. Major Jackson, Colonel Maistrov and Colonel Alvaro were against it. Therefore, we have called in three additional officers. Commander Hayase, you are here because of your position as XO of the ship. Lieutenant Saotome, because you have spoken directly to the Zentraedi Commander-In-Chief. And Lieutenant Toyoshima, because she was the one to track these three down."

"Well, it ain't a hard choice," said Ranma. "But Major Jackson's concerns about their security is valid. How do we keep 'em safe from the grunts who just wanna beat them up?"

"My suggestion," said Jackson, "was to create an intern camp in one of the unused compartments in the ship."

"I agree," said Maistrov. "Though not for Mr. Jackson's more humanitarian reasons. They should be kept separate from the human population for our protection, not theirs."

"Captain, all due respect to my superior." Nabiki looked as though the words tasted bad in her mouth. "The Zentraedi defectors came here in the hopes of joining our society. Locking them up in an intern camp would give them reason to feel that they've not been treated rightly." Her mouth twitched. "As any Japanese-American would know."

"As for the issues of hostility towards the defectors," chimed in Misa, "I am certain that my department - possibly with the assistance of the Lings - would be able to defuse that."

"Miss Toyoshima, anything to add?"

Toyoshima glanced at her boss, then over to the head of her section. "No, Captain."

"Very well. Miss Hayase, your vote?"

"I say let them stay." There was no hesitation in Misa's voice.

"Miss Toyoshima?"

"I think that the intern camp would be a better idea." Toyoshima shook her head. "I think Mr. Jackson is correct, in that we can trust them, but not our own soldiers."

Ranma snorted. "Typical of an Intel type." He studiously ignored the looks he got from the two senior Intel officers.

"Mister Saotome."

"Let 'em stay." Ranma shrugged. "If there are any false defectors, well, we got 'em outnumbered pretty good."

"Then the board has reached a decision, and--"

"One moment, please." Colonel Maistrov stood up. "A decision of this magnitude cannot be left in the hands of junior officers. Even if one of them is the acting XO of the ship."

"Hardly 'acting,'" objected Misa.

"But an XO's slot calls for a Major, not a Commander. As you are a Commander, you are therefore a junior officer. Captain, I call for a vote by rank lots."

Ranma scowled. With Maistrov and Alvaro technically equal to the Captain, such a vote would favour their position.

Nabiki cleared her throat. "Lieutenant Toyoshima, do you have document thirty-five alpha?"

"Yes, Boss." Toyoshima pulled her PDA from its pocket on her belt.

"Would you be so kind as to deliver its contents to the Captain?"

Toyoshima wordlessly handed the PDA to Global.

"Captain, this was brought to my attention by a member of Second Cavalry, who asked that his name not be given. According to him, and as I have verified through inspections of inventory, it seems that there has been quite a large amount of...creative bookkeepping...when it comes to inventory consumed during live-fire exercise."

"Much of this dates back to before the invasion," said Global. But his face was darkening.

"None the less, you'll note that several key items - especially rations, but a lot of luxury items as well, such as alcohol and tobacco - were also marked as 'destroyed in training accidents', or as 'lost during transit'. We cannot find correlations between these entries and, say, accident reports or transportation receipt. Therefore, the inventory in question has simply...gone missing."

"Ammunition, weapons, food supplies, medications..." Global carefully set down the PDA. "Miss Tendo...where exactly did you come by these files?"

Nabiki smiled sweetly. "Why, in Maistrov's personal computer."

Maistrov jumped to his feet. "You broke into my computer?"

"I told you when you hired me," said Nabiki. "We always look into our employer's background. Just in case we need the dirt."

The Captain glanced back at the Intelligence Chief. "Colonel Maistrov. Can you explain this?"

Maistrov was doing a good imitation of a landed fish.

"I assume that that is a no." Global thumbed the intercom. "Security, Briefing Room A."


"Well, that leaves Nabs firmly in charge of the entire Intelligence Department," said Ranma. "Dunno if that's such a good thing for me personally, but for Macross in general, it can't help but work out in the long run."

Roli frowned. He was the smallest of the three Zentraedi, and his jowly face made the expression particularly unpleasant. "You speak of this 'Intelligence' department. What exactly is their function?"

Ranma frowned, glanced hesitantly over at Misa, and said, "Well, I can't really go into precise details where our Intelligence department is involved, but generally speakin', an Intel department gathers information on the enemy forces, an' forwards that to the brass."

"'Brass?'"

Ranma rolled his eyes. "The officers in charge."

"Ah." Roli nodded. "Then as far as you have explained it, we--" He indicated his two taller companions. "--were the Intelligence Department for our forces."

"All three of you?"

"Yes," confirmed Warera. "We were operators of information-gathering equipment, and after we returned with footage of the 'Beauty Pageant', we were Micloned and sent to spy on the people of your ship."

"Were you the only spies sent over here?" asked Misa.

"I think you do not understand, Commander Hayase." Roli smiled proudly. "We were the only spies at all."

Ranma's eyes widened. "Of course--your people are a warrior society, and so, you would never have developed espionage."

"You understand correctly," said Konda. He was the tallest of the three, and very slender. "Commander Dolza believed that, since you did not know about the Micloning process, you would not have expected any of our people to be able to blend into your society."

Warera laughed. "And we nearly didn't manage to do that. Your society is a madhouse, and at least four times, we almost managed to blow our cover."

"But there were a few things we never did figure out," continued Konda. "If I may ask about them? I will understand if they are military secrets that you must not reveal."

Ranma shrugged. "Can't hurt. Worst that'll happen is that I can't answer."

Konda turned to Misa. "We have seen you on several occasions, delivering speeches through the...I think they call it an 'idiot box'."

"Some people call it that," chuckled Misa.

"And several times on posters. In every case, you wear the uniform that you wear now. But when we first saw you, in the 'Pageant', you were wearing a different garment."

Misa blushed.

"That garment had very little coverage," agreed Warera. "On one occasion, I accidentally met a woman wearing similar garments, but she was very angry with me for seeing them. But you showed no anger."

Her blush deepened. "Well...That's hard to explain."

"No, it ain't," said Ranma. "The garment she was wearin' was meant for swimmin'. But Misa don't normally wear a swimsuit that skimpy."

"But why did she not appear angry?" asked Roli. "That is the part that confuses me."

"The situation we were in didn't call for anger," said Ranma. "She had to appear cool, collected an' calm."

"Ah!" Roli nodded. "Proper military decorum."

"Close enough," muttered Misa. "And I'd just as soon you not mention that particular 'garment' again."

"I would like the chance to see you wearing the sort of garment you normally wear to swim," said Konda.

Misa's blush was now so strong that Ranma was amazed her hair hadn't caught fire. He intervened on her behalf.

"You're not gonna get to," he said. "There's no place to swim in Macross".

"Oh." Konda paused. "Then why was she wearing that garment?"

"You just said it yourself," said Ranma. "You wanted to see her wearin' it, or somethin' like it, right?"

"Ranma--"

"Yes," said Konda. "I found that it caused a pleasant emotional reaction."

"That's why she was wearin' it."

"Ranma, please shut up."

Konda considered this, then nodded. "Psychological warfare."

"You see, Misa?" asked Ranma. "They still don't quite get it."

"They're closer than most people think," said Misa.

"But a word of warning, guys: There are times and places to discuss things like what a girl looks like in a swimsuit." Ranma raised a finger. "But there are also times and places where it ain't such a good idea. Until you know the difference, better not to mention it."

"I think that this might not have been the best time or place," said Roli. "Commander Hayase appears distressed by the conversation." He turned to her. "I would apologize, on behalf of myself and my companions, for any discomfort we may have caused."

Misa nodded, then grinned. "It's all right, boys. It's not really your fault. I'll take it out on Ranma later."

Ranma chuckled. "Now I know I'm in trouble."

"I have another question," said Konda. "Before we were sent here, Commander Bodolze captured three Miclones. He, Exedol and Vwritlai interrogated them, and two of them demonstrated something called a 'kiss'."

"Oh, man." Ranma dropped his face into his hand.

"It is a militarily sensitive subject?" asked Roli.

"Not really." Ranma looked up. "I just don't like bein' reminded of it."

"But you were not there," objected Warera. "I remember the three that were present, and none of them looked like you."

Misa chuckled, and said, "Payback time." She picked a cup of water off the table and dumped it over Ranma's head.

Ranma glared at her. "Thanks. Thanks a bunch."

The three spies, oddly, did not so much as bat an eye at the transformation. Roli nodded. "So you were there, and Commander Dolza's statement that the escaped aliens were killed was false."

"Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated," quipped Ranma.

"And you were in the 'Pageant' as well," said Konda. "In the blue and gold--" He visibly cut himself off. "You and Commander Hayase were called away from the contest, and you said that you had to go 'blow up the bad guys.'"

"Yeah," said Ranma. "Some alien--I mean, Zentraedi--recon pod got too close, and they sent me out to shoot it down, or at least chase it off. They'd already driven off a buddy of mine, and I managed to get aboard it, but then it self-destructed."

Roli, Warera and Konda laughed. "So it was you!" gasped Roli. "We barely got away with our lives. You must be the greatest pilot of the Miclone forces."

Ranma shrugged. "I ain't bad."

"Don't let Miss Modest here fool you," said Misa. "She's got more citations for courage under fire than any other pilot. She's only second for total number of kills, but since the number one space is held by a deceased pilot, she's going to be surpassing him soon."

"It is clear now why you are such a dangerous pilot," said Roli. "No doubt you fly in female form."

"Naw. Only did that once." Ranma waved a hand. "I'm about equal in either form."

"We do not segregate the genders," said Misa. "I'm certain you've noticed that. We don't have very many female Valkyrie pilots, but they fly alongside the men."

"But females are superior by design," objected Warera.

"True," said Misa with a grin. "But in our society, we don't advertise the fact. We don't like to crush the male's fragile little egos."

"Wait 'till the Womyn's Movement get their paws on these guys," muttered Ranma.


"Your opinion, Miss Tendo?"

The Captain was not adhering to rank titles; Nabiki wasn't certain if this was a good thing or not. "I think that he was in it up to his neck, but unfortunately, these files don't quite prove it."

"At least you're honest," noted Global.

"Can't afford not to be, in this job." Nabiki paused, then said, "The fact that materials were being diverted is without a doubt. That it included armaments as well as food makes this a gunrunning case. Now..." Nabiki tapped her PDA. "We know that Maistrov was supplying luxury items to the black marketeers. That we can prove beyond a shadow of a doubt. But I doubt that he was selling ammunition or weapons to civilians inside the ship. Further, there was a drop in the amount of ammo being 'consumed in training', despite an increase in the amount of training that we were doing. Therefore, someone was selling ammunition, but it stopped after the Misfold."

"So it was happening on Earth, and that means that, most likely, whoever it was being sold to was Earthside. Most likely insurgents."

"Can't really prove that, either." Nabiki paused, then said, "Loss of material started well before Maistrov's arrival on the island, but it took an upswing once he hit town. And that was when ammo started going missing as well. Maistrov's files outline the material that was missing, but I think that these were insurance files."

"In case someone started nosing around," said Global.

"Exactly. He could appear to be on top of the situation."

"Which he still could have been."

"Except that we know that he was selling the booze and tobacco."

"Mmf."

"But until we can figure out who he was selling guns to..."

"Actually," said Global, "we don't need to prove that. His black marketeering that we can prove is enough to have him removed from his post." He looked up at her directly. "Which is what you intended to begin with, right?"

"No, Sir." Nabiki shook her head. "I just wanted a way to take him down if I needed it. And he happily obliged me."

"You mean you didn't want his position?"

"Are you kidding?" She laughed. "I'd probably botch it pretty badly. I can handle the administrative side of things, but I don't really think like a soldier."

"Better learn how," said Global. "You ousted him, you can take his place."

Nabiki paused, and set down her PDA. "Sir, that wasn't false modesty, or some kind of psychological warfare. I honestly think that I would not be the best choice for this position."

Global smiled tightly. "Which is why it's yours."

Nabiki sighed. "This is a mistake."

"For your sake," said Global, "I hope you're wrong...Major."