Scrapyard: Ranma

by Krahae

Once more with feeling! False starts and failed ideas that never really caught; here's where I'll be putting the odd bits and pieces that I almost decided to continue, but not quite. Some of these may be revisited, but its unlikely. But not impossible. Mostly Ranma-centric.

10. Variable Fighter

Warning: I'm not pulling any punches with these, as they're SCRAP FILES. This is my raw, personal edits and not screened for much other than my own inner grammar nazi. You can expect just about anything, and I know there are a few scenes of mature and violent content. Some of it harsh. So, be warned.

Premise: The basis of this story started, oddly enough, as a SM/R0.5 cross. Yeah. I was originally going to draw off an idea for a lost Silver Millennium fleet, returning to the Sol system, only to find their former Empire shattered, and the souls of their champions held 'hostage' as bodyguards for Terran interlopers. The Senshi would recruit Ranma, infuse him with the Chaos Starseed to gain access the lost Dark Kingdom fleet to counter the new threat, before they annihilate Earth. Vague Youma-demon Ranma. Was waffling about if I wanted a pairing, or who. Think I was about set on Hotaru, for the social outcast factor, and to seed in some irritation for Ranma, in the big brother – little sister vs. girlfriend thing.

Still may do that, someday.

From the ideas for the mecha and battle aspect of that idea, I began toying with pulling in outside references... then decided I didn't want to even deal with fuku at all and just scrapped the SM portion. That left me with a massive damn hole to fill, and wouldn't you know – Macross fit.

So I looked up the 'genre' on FFN. Macross-Ranma fics existed. What the hell? Awesome. And some really were. There was one thing that I noticed, however, that made me pause. They were all original SDF Macross crosses. No Macross Zero, no Frontier, no Plus... color me a sad panda.

Frontier even had a Saotome family! Perfect Chance!

But I had timeframes to work with. Ranma and Macross neatly (or nearly neatly) intersect. There was precedent however, for crosses that had Ranma go directly from Jusenkyo (or nearly) to Boot Camp, Macross Island, etc. I enjoyed those, but wanted to try something a little different. Macross One-Half (I think it was that one) had a reference to Jusenkyo as a Protoculture holdout on Earth, by way of the 'reflex flowers' idea. I liked this, but wanted to tie in Frontier, somehow.

But, there are a few things about Macross and Ranma that have to be kept in mind, or the genre's for them are just lost, and an excuse to ship or play god in someone else's sandbox. Macross has motifs that appear in nearly every incarnation, from SDF to Frontier – the love triangle, music, and a space-opera setting. The analysis of culture, what it means to those inside and outside of it, and the 'humanization' of alien ideas.

As for the one included song, the music would still fit, but I did some work on the lyrics to make it Ranma relevant, so it's technically not all icky and copyrighted.

—

Variable Fighter

Juzō smirked as his grandson tried valiantly to appear nonchalant, as the VC-33 light transport plane circled South Ataria Island – or rather, adjusted its approach to the less restricted civilian airspace. To Ranma's credit, few people who had never flown before managed to keep such a level head. The ride itself wasn't a problem, as the vessel wasn't one of those puddle-hopper turboprops, but an actual U.N.G. transport ship using the latest in OTEC production materials. OverTechnology backwards engineered from the crashed alien vessel, designated ASS-1, quickly went into use in military production once methods of doing so were made available. One of the benefits Juzō knew of intimately happened to be supremely smooth and nearly turbulence-free trips aboard such vessels as the VC-33. So obviously, it wasn't the plane's performance that had his grandson so on edge, and he refused to believe the young man was afraid of heights.

The elder Saotome did want to see the repair crew's expressions when they got around to inspecting the young man's seat. Juzō regarded the crushed steel armrests, with a clear hand-print, a small smile drifting across his face.

Ranma tried not to look out the window, but with all the motion from the clouds and the changes in scenery, he may as well have just turned to face it, as often as something caught his attention from the corner of his eye. It didn't help that it was just the two of them – he and his grandfather – in the cabin they were in. By necessity, the rest of those visiting under his grandfather's visa were in the aft passenger area. Though, Ranma was reminded that they really weren't alone, with Juzō's security detail there along with a secretary.

Again, the view drew his attention, pulling him back to look down at a landscape that he was never meant to be so high above. There below them, a literal blue sea stretched out as far as the eye could imagine, dotted by patches of sand, or more vast islands with thick stands of trees and vegetation. He'd be lying to say it wasn't beautiful. It was just how he was viewing those pockets of perfection that made him so on-edge. It was beautiful. Too beautiful, and it bothered Ranma that such a thing had only recently made itself known to him.

"Grandson, can you answer a question for me?"

Startled by the sudden noise, as his attention had drawn down to a razor focus on a school of fish that darted between the shallows that were at once far too close and too distant for his tastes, Ranma turned and nodded, "Sure, Gramps."

Juzō smirked a bit at the young man's impertinence. It was endearing, after years of kowtowing toadies. "What is your Art's focus?"

Ranma stared at the man curiously for a moment, knowing full well that both of them were well-versed in his Art, and what he was capable of. Still, the old man usually had a reason for his questions. "Well, the Saotome School is mostly aerial. I've always focused on being a superior air combatant, taking advantage of the fact most other styles have either a very weak aerial focus, or only a few forms, for it."

"Then, why is it grandson, that you are so nervous about flying?"

Sparing the developed island below him a brief glance, Ranma considered the question for a long moment, considering he was just thinking on the same thing. Really, was there a reason? He didn't like the plane... no. It wasn't the plane, so much as the lack of control. He didn't like being at the mercy and whim of an unknown and faceless man whom he'd never spoken with. It just went against all he'd learned and done so far in his life. As his mind ground about the problem, he noted the buildings, short and utilitarian, that were dotted across the sea-bound landscape. A large mountain, probably volcanic at some point, obscured his view of the far side, though he could see an indistinct something out there, obscured by massive tarps and a still under-construction dome, likely to protect it from the elements.

Returning his attention to his grandfather, Ranma shrugged. "Not sure, I guess. Got a few reasons, but no clear one."

Juzō hummed in thought, before sparing the young man a knowing grin. "Perhaps it would be better, if you were the one flying the plane?"

Laughing quietly, Ranma shook his head. "No way, Gramps. Why'd I do somethin' like that?" Turning his attention back to the sea with a slight twitch, the young man chuckled again. "I've spent too much of my life on the Art to do anything else. I've pretty much come to grips with the idea it's what I'll do from here on out."

Leaning back in his seat and folding his hands before him, Juzō nodded amicably. "As you say, grandson. As you say."

Some minutes later the pilot announced that they were in the final approach to South Ataria, rousing Ranma from his attempts to stare down the ocean below. Turning back to the static view inside the plane, he asked a question that had been on his mind for some time now, "So, Gramps... mom mentioned that you work for the U.N., but what is it you actually do? She's never said."

Juzō rubbed at his chin idly, considering how to answer, "Well, to be honest Ranma, what I do isn't very much. I'm more of a figurehead, and a public face. The U.N.G. didn't need a lot of bloat, in the way of representatives from all the countries they direct so much as positions that allowed them to have a familiar name and face when it came time to deal with things like television and press announcements."

"So that means you were important before the U.N.G., right? Otherwise, why you?"

"Perceptive," the older man noted. "Yes, I held a position within the Diet, for a number of years. My appointment was more due to the influence I have over Japan's military zoning commission. The U.N.G. would at some point want bases, and in return for some favors on my end, they granted me a position that would translate into no small amount of political capital."

Ranma schooled his expression, keeping the disappointment from his features. "Ah, I get it I guess." Finally dredging up how he wanted to word it, Ranma asked, "Why'd you came back? I mean, it's been a long time, and mom said you barely spoke to her, during the time I was... gone."

Juzō considered the question a moment, before replying. "Your mother could tell you quite a few tales about how little I regarded your father. I knew of his teacher, knew of his character. I couldn't stop the marriage, in good conscience, because it was my teachings and the morals I instilled in Nodoka that lead her in that direction."

Pensive, Ranma shifted in his seat. "I guess. But that still doesn't answer my question."

"True enough," the elder Saotome said. "There are a few reasons. One, your mother had finally had enough of Genma's idiocy. She was at her wit's end dealing with his lies, and the dishonor she'd had to deal with, because of him."

"So you struck him from the family registry, because she asked you to?"

Leveling a stern glare at the young man, Juzō let Ranma sit and fidget. "You, more than anyone, should understand what kind of man Gemna is. When my daughter contacted me, telling me – after nearly fifteen years of silence – the reasons why, and the regret she had over why we parted, I could think of no other action.

"Genma is a man wholly without honor, unless it suits his goals to ape it. I could not allow my name to be pulled through the mud any longer." The disdain was clear in the older man's voice, and it struck a chord in Ranma, that wanted to leap up and defend his father – but he couldn't. The man had gone too far, too many times to just forgive anymore. His last bout of idiocy nearly cost Akane something she couldn't replace, and the fallout was still working its way out of Nerima.

He and Ryoga had nearly killed each other over what happened, the stakes of their duel being forced into their cursed state and locked. Ranma had won, but refused to follow through with doing something that horrible to a man he'd called friend long before rival. They parted friends – real friends, not grudging rivals – just three days ago. Ranma hoped he was making the best of that time to take a chance on finding happiness for once, rather than vengeance, now that it was said and done, once and for all.

Akane... Ranma heaved a weary sigh. He loved her. That just couldn't be changed, or done away with, but simply too much had happened. Between Kuno, the idiocy she had to deal with on a daily basis from Furinkan High, the pressure their fathers had put on them, and the random madness that had followed Ranma like a lost puppy, there was no chance of them finding something like happiness. They took what they could, grew to love one another in their own way, and then had to realize that there just wasn't a future between them.

It was made even more painful, because they could have known that so long ago, had anyone given them a chance to just figure it out between themselves. It was the one thing Ranma knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he could never forgive Genma for. Now things were simply too far gone to recover, and both he and Akane knew it.

Working with Juzō, who had made contact with them through Ranma's mother, they managed a plan that would release everyone from the idiocy that Genma had brought with him. It was during the talks about what to do, that Ranma learned more about his family than he'd ever known from the man he called Pops.

He learned that Genma wasn't a Saotome by birth – but by marriage. He learned that the Anything Goes style he practiced was named Saotome to appease Nodoka, so she would allow Genma to take Ranma on the training trip he'd planned. He learned that she had made the Seppuku contract in the hope that it would keep Genma in line, but never intended on it affecting him, as it had. He learned about his family, his uncle and aunt, the other Saotomes, and the darker history behind his own birth. He learned that eight months after Nodoka and Genma were married, he was born. He never learned why they married, however, other than the fact it wasn't for love.

Their question on how to fix Genma's mess had been asked, and the answer became clear, quickly enough. And all it took, was removing his father from his life. Being the family patriarch, Juzō had that power. With Nodoka in agreement, he'd struck Gemna from the family registry, forcing him to relinquish ties with Ranma as well.

It had been dirty and painful for everyone. Eventually, Juzō resorted to calling investigators and convinced Ranma that legal action was needed. Genma's arrest occurred two days before his divorce and removal from the family. He'd escaped two days later, and had yet to be heard from again.

Soun Tendo had been livid, then delusionally chipper believing it would all work out just fine, then depressed over the termination of the betrothal contract. It was a state shared by a chef named Kuonji as well. Juzō took a heavy hand to Genma's actions, finding very little to redeem the man, as he systematically destroyed obligation after obligation, either bending his considerable resources to that end, or in some cases, open threats. Considering what Ranma knew of his father's habits, he wasn't surprised at Juzō's reaction in the least.

Oddly, it was the Amazon contingent that proved sense could come from the strangest quarters. After seeing what Juzō was doing, Cologne scheduled a time to speak with the Saotome patriarch. She came out on the wrong foot, some old Amazon habits concerning males coming to the fore, but other than a few bobbles, it was clear Juzō would not be budged – in no way, shape, or form was Ranma returning to China. Threats were made, and names dropped. When Juzō asked Ranma if he could identify the Amazon village from an overhead map for him, the old woman had finally caved.

She chose, like she should have in the beginning, what was best for her people, rather than best for her selfish and often thoughtless great-granddaughter.

And, only a month after his grandfather had arrived in his life, Ranma found himself free. Free of obligations he'd had no hand in, and to do what he wished.

Lost and frankly unsure what to do in such a state, Ranma had agreed to return to South Ataria island with the elder Saotome, to get a glimpse at what he did for a job. Having heard from the man firsthand what it was he did however, Ranma found himself suddenly less enthused.

"Well," Ranma muttered, staring out of his window as his thoughts stilled, "at least there are nice beaches."

"True enough, but that isn't why I asked you to come with me, Ranma."

–

To minimize the need for large machinery, the clearance nightmare of contractors, and the need to keep secrets as secure as possible, the technical and research divisions of South Ataria Base were housed for the most part inside the derelict vehicle known as ASS-1. Later, outsourced technologies would be released, and other research centers would arise, but for the time being the Earth U.N. Government kept a tight reign on what moved in or out of the alien vessel. There were still undecided forces at work, that would like nothing better than to see the fledgeling government fall, and though it was still a shadowy entity, the Anti-U.N. was beginning to take shape into a real threat. For those reasons and more, the U.N.G. kept the ASS-1 under tight control.

Information was power. Power was necessary for control. Control was security. Security ensured survival. The words of his mentor flashed through his mind, jarring the elder Saotome for a moment.

"And you're sure these are untainted?"

Juzō addressed the scientist – a stereotypically imagined man, if ever there was one – with an expression of long suffered annoyance. "We will get nowhere with this if you continue to do nothing but question me, Hasford. Yes. They were drawn here, with two of the research division present."

The man in question turned to the elder Saotome with a frown, glowering for a long minute behind his tinted glasses. In his hands a pair of blood samples within their vials sat, held reverently. "Science is based on questioning. To be a scientist, is to question," the slip of a man, intense despite his frailty, rasped angrily. "But I understand your annoyance. My... personality, I've been told, is grating to those who do not know me.

"You must also understand the significance of what you're bringing me," the man in the mechanized chair pointed out, placing the samples in a small brace, upon the table. Their labels read 'SAOTOME R.(f)' and 'SAOTOME R.(m)', and they rested beside a third vial, with a faded name-tag that could no longer be read. "I merely find it convenient that you, a blood relation to the origin of these samples, would supply them. Coincidence makes me nervous. Forgive me for being cautious, Juzō."

Scoffing angrily and pacing the length of the table, Juzō Saotome took no comfort in the other man's apology. "I understand your wariness, but the material and proof I've given you cannot be overlooked. Those metals were not of terrestrial origin. We both know that without any doubt."

The scientist identified as Dr. Hasford nodded amicably. "True, true. And were you anyone else, I'd doubt your veracity, Juzō, even in the light of proof. Yes, those artifacts were made from something not of this world. The reaction they have on the blood is phenomenal.

"Much like the blood itself. Ah, but I'm getting ahead of things. You wanted to know what precisely I found, did you not?"

"That is why I put forth the request for you to be here, despite the Technology Council's hesitance," the Japanese statesman reminded.

Bobbing his head amicably, Hasford conceded the point with a secretive grin. "We are lucky that the young... man's father never had him go to a doctor or hospital, after his exposure. Otherwise, we would have been denied this opportunity," the scientist pointed out. "There really is nothing subtle about the situation, when viewed under sufficient scrutiny."

A slide was activated, painting a strange scene on a wall. "Tell me, what do you see, here," the older man pointed with a presentation laser, the point hovering over a small, strangely convoluted structure. "When compared to this one, here?" Another slide was activated, showing a similar scene, but with differences.

"The first one, there and there," Juzō pointed out, moving closer to inspect the illuminated pictures. "There are tiny crystalline structures embedded in the folds of that thing."

Hasford grinned, his yellowing teeth a counterpoint to his liver-spotted skin. "Very observant. Yes. Those tiny crystalline structures as you called them, are actual crystals. Fold Crystals, to be precise. What you are looking at, Saotome, are sample mitochondria from the subject. The second slide is a control."

"Fold Crystals?" Juzō spun around, his ire already roused at his grandson being called a specimen. He winced at the projected light from the slide viewer, as it shone in his face. "Impossible. The only source of those was the ASS-1, and even then, there were nearly no intact samples. The entire ship had been looted and stripped of most of its components, even before it landed. What existed was put into such a high state of lockdown, that some actually found the manpower to do so would be more expensive than the potential to use them."

Cackling, the scientist turned off the projector. "All well and good but... Why was it you contacted me, mm?"

Juzō flinched in recollection. "Your previous work, at the indigenous Mayan islands some years ago. Your hypothesis about a seed-race that pushed humanity to develop as it did."

"And why bring me these samples? Why involve me, in this?"

Realizing he was gritting his teeth, Juzō took a stilling breath to calm his anger. "Ranma displays the same kind of mutable form theory that the research division has put forward, as a primary function of the OverTechnology based on limited experimentation. Reports on their halted work on the Protean power core due to a lack of rare materials reminded me of it."

Hasford smiled gruesomely. "Yes. Oh, and let's not forget his contact with these 'cursed' pools, an ancient society, and location, isolated for thousands of years. Much like the Mayan islands and their 'Bird Man', yes? You saw the parallels. I see them now, as well."

The Doctor continued, "Now, why would I put forth such a theory, when I had no proof? Mm? I did have proof – proof I kept secret. Those samples and these from your grandchild show remarkable similarity. It's a shame that I have nothing to compare now..." Shrugging, the old man wheeled his mechanical support around jerkily. "Nonetheless, my work on this subject is far from complete. You were wise to come to me, Saotome."

"What can you tell me, then? What is your theory about this Jusenkyo?"

Pursing his lips, Doctor Hasford chose his words well. "Imagine, a Fold Drive. Similar to the one contained within the ASS-1. Now, say this engine is damaged, in an explosion, or failure, or through time... it matters not. Containment is lost. The metals are contaminated by the crystalline payload. Fold Crystals.

"Those artifacts you brought me show remarkable resonance with those microscopic crystal structures present in Ranma's cells, and likely would do so with anyone with such a condition. Obviously, they were 'mined' from the containment core. Their ability to lock the Fold state is impressive, and all but proves my theory, but it is the medium that intrigues me!

"Water!" Cackling, the old man upended a beaker of fluid across the desk. "Simple, unassuming, water! There must be remnants of that Fold Drive present where these springs originate. The water dissolves the regenerative matrix, carrying it to be concentrated, in a process much like desalination in these pools. Activated, charged, ionic Fold Crystal! Unconstrained, and awaiting imprinting! Then! Some form, with a cohesive template available to bond to contacts that... Fold pattern molding, yes. Cursed pools, indeed... DNA, my dear Juzō! Like unshaped clay, the mold takes that first imprint as freezes it as its charged state, much as the crystals had originally been programmed. Their neutral state being the unassuming pink quartz we know, their charged state being the hyperspace Fold generating engines we so crave.

"The pattern is then set. The pools, supersaturated with ionized Fold Crystal from that point forward will reshape anything with a similar original matrix. Having water as a charging trigger is unusual, but not unimaginable. As we've seen already with the mechanical tests with OverTechnology based on Fold Crystals and the Protean power core, such mutability is trivial."

Blowing out a terse breath, Juzō allowed himself to nod. "Alright. Even though I've seen quite a lot of impressive, seemingly impossible things, this eases my mind. A logical explanation for the illogical is always a comfort. I can almost put my stock in such an idea, even."

Hasford spared him an irritated glance. "Oh? Almost? And what stops you?"

"It explains the why of the transformation, but not the how. Mass loss and gain, spontaneous genetic shifting... can your theory explain that?"

Folding his hands in his lap, the old man regarded the younger Japanese statesman with another of his horrible smiles. "Given enough time, and... access to a suitable subject, of course."

"My grandson is not a lab specimen," Juzō growled.

Clicking off a device on his chair, Hasford turned toward the empty, corrugated wall. As a number of engines engaged, there was a whir and clatter, as the wall separated. Behind it and a thick layer of clear glass, a number of unfamiliar figures stirred and muttered to one another, all with a collection of documents before them. Military uniforms from various governments and countries were evident, sitting beside contemporary spokesmen and supporters of the U.N.G. "Oh, not yet. But I'm nothing, if not patient, Juzō."

"You son of a bitch," Saotome hissed at the old man. "I didn't bring this to you, for you to turn my grandson into a guinea pig!"

Hasford scoffed at the incrimination. "Please, Saotome. I'd not do something so graceless. From the initial examination, the powers that be saw the potential this offered. Why destroy such a resource, when it can instead be cultivated, observed? With a limited test bed, destroying the only sample would be a fool's action.

"Observation. Testing. Examination." The Doctor handed the elder Saotome a folder, with a smug expression. "All legal. All perfectly acceptable, and beyond reproach. After all, everyone who becomes a part of U.N.G. must pass certain physical requirements. And fret not, these aren't the bogeymen that the Anti-U.N. would paint them to be," Hansford added, in an effort to soothe the other man. The effect was lost, however. "They take care of their own."

Leafing through the material, Juzō's face took on a disgusted cast. "...I lead him right into this didn't I? How much of a fool have I been...?"

"Oh don't be so melodramatic," Hasford cackled. "He'll be beside the best and brightest, after all. Just as any grandfather would want."

"And if he refuses?"

Hasford laughed, a grating sound like a bellows wheezing. "Oh, I don't think that boy would refuse you much, after what you did to clear up his little domestic problems, Juzō."

Reading the writing on the wall, the Japanese man turned toward the observing room, glaring ineffectively at those present. Faceless power regarded him in turn. "I don't have a choice in this do I?"

"There are already two other primary contacts we could tap, Saotome. Why fight it? With or without you, we will acquire access to this resource.

"And if you find us and our aims so detestable, perhaps your own offer should be taken into consideration?"

Another folder was thrown at the unsettled man, who barely got his fingers around it before it fell to the floor. "My own offer...? A bribe, you mean."

Hasford scoffed. "Call it what you will. Compensation, bribe, payment – it doesn't matter. But not every family will get such an opportunity, and if you dislike our goals and aims so much, perhaps this would be ideal."

"Frontier Project," Juzō read quietly, flipping through the folder with a pensive expression. At this point, he was damned either way. Best to do it with as full a hand as possible. "Very well then. I accept."

"Mr. Saotome, the board is pleased that you've chosen to accept our decision in this. Your cooperation will be greatly appreciated."

Juzō kept his peace, knowing well there was nothing he could do, but try to steer things toward a less bitter end. To do that, he'd need to be involved... which meant playing along. For now. "I see Ranma's potential," he allowed neutrally. "But I wonder what you see, in him? What place with the U.N.G. does he fulfill, that you can justify your interest?"

The speaker turned, indicating a man to his left. "I'd like to introduce you to Gustan Fyodorov, current CEO of Sukhoi Corporation. As you know, Sukhoi is one of the contenders for our VF-X development project. They are currently leading on the technological side of the race, but their designs lack the human element to make them truly formidable. Or rather, a human element that can keep up.

"Fyodorov and the rest of the Committee see this as an opportunity to not only build superior designs for the VF-X project, but also better pilots to utilize them."

Juzō's hand clenched at this side, but his face remained impassive. "A test pilot, then."

Wheeling next to the man, Hasford patted him on the back. "Think about the future, old friend. Such a glorious future..."

–

"A job offer?"

"More of an opportunity," the older man replied with a laugh in his voice. "Come, don't tell me you've taken after your father in this one thing, as opposed to all others?"

Ranma bristled at the insinuation, "Hey, I got nothin' against workin'!" Deflating somewhat, the young man leaned back in his seat. "I guess it's just kinda sudden. I mean, first Pops, then leavin' Nerima. Now this?"

Juzō nodded, keeping his expression neutral. "I agree. It does seem strange, doesn't it? But I've never been a believer in coincidence. Things, I believe, happen for a reason. When I step back and look at this, I see something much larger at work," the older man added somberly, the truth in those words adding no small depth to his words.

Deciding that it was a good time to divert the conversation, Juzō nodded toward the window. "And, when you come to understand what it is that's out there, large just doesn't quite cover it."

Turning to see what the older man was pointing at, Ranma gaped at the massive form that was revealed, not yet covered completely by the construction dome. "Wha... is that a ship? Why is it on land?"

Juzō smirked slightly. "Yes, it is a ship – technically. As for your second question, because that's where it landed."

It took Ranma a full minute for those ideas, and what he was seeing, to process. "The news. There wasn't a meteor? This was what fell?"

"It won't be a secret much longer," Juzō allowed, lacing his fingers. "It's already all the spin-doctors can do to keep things under control, to allow the U.N. some time to prepare. When it fell, it didn't do so in a straight line, after all, and some of the more observant scientists and institutions aren't playing along. There's also been more than a handful of lucky pilots, who broke the security net set up to stop such things.

"Not to mention the Anti-U.N. factions, which are spreading as much propaganda as possible, trying to force the release of the technology contained in the ship for their own benefit."

Ranma world-view was experiencing a massive reworking, as he looked at the behemoth ship, or at least what parts of it he could see. Judging by the size of the buildings, planes, and cars nearby the construction site, he'd have to guess the thing to be over a kilometer in length, and almost half that in width. The largest vessel he'd ever seen before was only half that size, and that was an aircraft carrier docked in Tokyo Bay they'd flown over.

Size aside, the young martial artist was having trouble dealing with the more important fact that the alien ship presented, by its existence. That it was, essentially, alien. "It came from space. There are more of them, out there, then."

"Yes," Juzō replied. "That is why the Earth United Nations Government initiative occurred with such speed, and urgency. Earth must be prepared, for threats such as what a vessel like this could provide. Survival is a common goal for mankind, and if we don't unify against a threat of this caliber, we will not."

Ranma understood that sentiment well enough. What he didn't understand was why he was allowed to understand it, now. Here. "Why are you tellin' me all this? I mean, sure you said it won't be a secret much longer, but I'm not..." Swallowing the foul taste his words were about to cause, Ranma continued, "...Important. To something like this. I'm just a guy who knows how to fight."

Juzō regarded his grandson levelly for a moment, before speaking in a frank tone. "You, Ranma, are one of the most talented martial artists of this generation – probably this age – which is a lot different than just knowing 'how to fight'. From what your mother tells me and what I've seen, there are few out there that can rival your potential."

"You were there for the fight with Hibiki, Gramps. Ryoga's been right beside me-"

"Ranma, tell me. Where is his ceiling? What drives him, and how far can he reach?"

Nodding, Ranma didn't need to think about that. "Point. He's always been driven by revenge, or his anger. Eventually, that leaves you. Can't get by, with just that."

Juzō nodded. "For a person like that, if their target is high enough it will lead them far. But what happens when they reach it? Or realize they will never see that revenge? What drives you on, Ranma? Where's your ceiling?"

"Don't got one," he replied without pause. "Sky's the... limit."

"What do you say we go beyond that, grandson?" Juzō handed him the packet that he'd been given by Hansford.

–

Of all the things he'd been expecting, what actually occurred once he landed with his grandfather proved nowhere on his list. It all began with Juzō saying, "Stay here at the terminal for about an hour. Apparently I'm needed and it's critical, so just relax for a while. I'll be back shortly, and we can meet ups with your mother, she made the mistake of calling ahead to your aunt, and the two of them are off making trouble, no doubt." That was followed by a flurry of activity from his entourage, leaving a befuddled and blinking Ranma Saotome alone, in the middle of a sea of human chaos known around the world as an airport gate terminal.

"Great," the youth muttered, sitting on a ledge by a window, overlooking the civilian runways. He'd come in on the other side, where the VC-33 had taxied in, but there were no windows to watch the more interesting planes. Stuck with a mundane view, Ranma decided to get a little sleep. The recruitment packet, for the moment, lay neglected in his pack. "Maybe if I'm lucky I can catch a nap," he murmured, the sun lulling him.

Half an hour later, luck proved its fickle nature. "Oh, excuse me, sorry..."

Ranma pulled himself further into the windowsill, subconsciously moving away from the noise from the seating area.

"Oh my, was that your foot? I'm terribly-! Oh. I'll just... hey! ...be on my way."

Stifling a yawn, the young man grumbled about noisy tomboys, tucking his knees up against his chest a bit closer.

"Uaaah. This isn't wor- Hey! Well I'm sorry! Listen, you half-witted moron, just get over it, before I get pissed!"

Eye twitching, Ranma sniffed, shuffling back against the cool pane of reinforced glass.

"Alright! That's it!" A few muffled screams and a staccato of loud impacts finally woke Ranma fully, who turned to regard the source of the commotion. It proved to be a young woman who stood panting, her arms straight down at her sides, fists clenched. She wasn't tall – maybe a handful of centimeters shorter than him – and had shoulder-length hair in a strange pale lavender, pulled up into a ponytail. Atop her head was a black ball-cap with a corporate logo depicting a tangle of blue lines and a bold "SU", while her jacket had the same. Said jacket was unzipped, showing off a figure that could have been a match for Ranma's female form, if sporting a bit more height and slimmer hips. Around her and the benches and chairs she stood between, a handful of twitching men groaned, bent into interesting shapes. "Next person that tries to cop a feel while I'm trying to find a seat gets a one-way ticket to Traction City!"

"Huh, didn't know Akane had a cousin," Ranma muttered, before he yawned hugely. Shrugging off the sight, he settled his forehead back on his knees, fully intending to ignore the world till his grandfather or mother arrived.

A warm pressure on his shoulder and a light tap forced those comfortable plans back into the grumbling darkness of his mind. Turning his head slowly, he noted the young woman from earlier, leaning against his shoulder. Or, she would be, if certain parts of her weren't rather ahead of the rest. Stormy blue eyes met those of crystal hue pale enough to seem almost washed out, "...yeah?"

"Ah, would you mind if I sat there?"

Ranma eyed the mostly clear seats, the benches – now vacant, their previous cargo now moaning and twitching on the floor – then the opposite side of the windowsill, where she was pointing. He then turned back to the buxom young woman, standing nervously at his shoulder. "...why?"

Blinking rapidly for a second, she replied, "Oh, well. You don't strike me as a pervert, or a lech. So I was hoping I could sit there."

The irony of her statement almost coaxed a smile out of Ranma, who shrugged. "Sure. Just don't expect a lot of conversation."

"Great! Thanks, I really appreciate it. My name's Serafina Polyansky – just Sera for short. What's your name?"

"Ah, Ranma. Saotome." It was at this point that Ranma realized this very not-Japanese person was speaking to him in very passable Japanese. Better than his, if he was being honest. "Ah, just wonderin', isn't that name Russian?"

For the first time since she'd began speaking with him, the young woman frowned. "Well, yes. Is that a problem?"

Ranma shook his head, "No, but I was just wonderin' why you're speaking Japanese, since well, you're not."

"Oh, well." Shrugging, Sera slumped to a seat, causing interesting reactions to pass through the nearby males, watching the spectacle. "South Ataria is part of a Japan-controlled archipelago. Most of the businesses and offices in the islands are bilingual, but the primary language is Japanese. I picked it up about two years ago, when my sister started working for the U.N. before the globalization."

That got a reaction out of the young man. "Two years? Not bad, you must be pretty smart."

Sera laughed musically, "No, no. Not really. My sister says I'm a bit of an air-head."

Ranma snorted in reply, "Hell, I'm still lousy at English after two years. Eighteen and high-school may as well have been one long recess. If you got that with Japanese in so short a time, I think you qualify for 'smart'." Recalling what she'd said earlier, Ranma appraised her for a moment. "Here to see your sister, then?"

Nodding, Sera looked around the terminal, wrinkling her nose. "She was supposed to meet me when I landed, but something obviously came up. She's always busy with her work, so this is no surprise."

"And I take it that," Ranma indicated the mass of slowly recovering frustration on the ground, "is normal, for you?"

"Eh," Serafina demurred, "it happens now and then."

Ranma nodded from long experience, "Some people you just gotta pound a bit to get the point across."

Giggling, the lavender-haired girl pulled a leg up, wrapping her arms around it. "So I've found. What brings you here?"

Humming quietly, Ranma finally decided to just shrug. "Not really sure. Gramps called it a workin' vacation, but I think he's got a plan for me or somethin'. Not sure what he's thinkin' though, it's not like I'm the kind of person that belongs in a place like this."

Serafina cocked her head to the side, a quizzical look on her face. "Oh, what do you do? I know they were looking for a lot of high-end technical and engineering specialists, but I'm here as a production liaison."

"I'm a martial artist."

The young woman blinked rapidly at that. "Oh. Well. I... hmm."

Ranma laughed. "Yeah, pretty much. Hell, I'm not even out of high school."

Sera mumbled to herself a moment, thinking. "Uhm... third year? Or is that second in Japan? I can never keep them straight."

"I'm on my third year," Ranma replied, grinning. "You're pretty young to be done with college and all. Some kind of whiz-kid?"

"College?" Serafina grinned ruefully. "No, I've not been to college yet. I attend a specialty track school funded by Sukhoi Corporation, with a focus on aeronautics. It's like going to school for a particular company. They teach you all you need to know to work there, and get a decent normal education to boot. Pretty nice deal, considering it's essentially free – as long as you sign on later."

Ranma nodded in agreement. "Seems it. So, that's what you're doin' here? Aeronautics?"

She spared him a smile, and a shake of her head. "Ah, can't really say."

Confused, Ranma thought to clarify what he meant, then understood what she meant. "Oh, right. Secret stuff, forgot this place is lousy with it."

"Only partly," Serafina admitted. "There are some things I know I'll be doing that are classified, but others I can guess. I just don't know." Shifting about to try to get more comfortable, she settled her chin atop the knee of the leg she was hugging. "It's not just about who can build what, and how fast, with the least money, like most production contractors. Sukhoi's always emphasized that proper training for their designs maximizes performance, and I'm probably going to get orders once we get billeted to scout out and assess the local talent."

"Makes sense," Ranma agreed. "But what I don't get, is why you. You're still in school, from what you said. Is that kinda thing a call you can make?"

Sera nodded, "Yes, for the most part. Part of my training was on pilot-machine interface schemes and efficiency. I may not be done with school either, but I can tell if what they're doing here works, how to fix it if not, and what to do to make it better in either case." Ranma laughed suddenly, grinning. "What?"

"I was right, you are a whiz-kid."

"Hey! Take that back!"

A low chuckle from nearby cut their laughter short. "Well, sister, I see you've already made at least one friend. And here I was worried about you fitting in."

"Nora!" Serafina scrambled to her feet, performing a passable flying tackle against another young woman nearby. Ranma took a look at the woman Sera had identified as Nora, and despite the timber of her voice, she seemed their age as opposed to being a few years older as he'd guessed. Like Serafina, her hair was a pale hue, this time almost white. He could manage to see a few strands of light blue, however, offsetting her turquoise eyes.

While he was sizing her up, his recent company continued her greeting, "Was my plane early, or did you just forget your poor older sister again?"

Ranma blinked at that, mouthing the words 'older sister...?' to himself quietly.

Rolling her eyes, Nora pulled back, holding Serafina at arm's length. For a moment, she simply smiled slightly, taking in her sister's appearance, before pulling her into a proper hug again. "No, I could not forget dear Sera, silly. You've filled ahead of me after all, though. I have a lot of catching up to do."

Sera chuckled, patting Nora on the back. "Ah, you're already ahead of me in some things. When did you get so tall?"

Posing, Nora did a little spin, her hip-length hair flaring around her. "Last month!"

Laughing openly now, Sera turned, hooking her arm through her sister's. Seen side by side, Ranma noted that Nora really was slightly taller, while Sera... was a bit more shapely. "So! Let me introduce you to my 'at least one friend'. Elainore Polyansky, this is Ranma Saotome, Ranma, this is my sister, Nora."

Standing, Ranma stumbled a second, his leg asleep from the awkward position on the ledge. Balancing on a foot, he sketched a bow. "Pleased to meet'cha."

Nora smiled, catlike, before nudging her sister. "Ooh, I see. He'd definitely a cute one."

"Nora!" Sera blushed hotly, turning away. "Mou! Stop it, we only just met. Besides, aren't you the one who's been waxing poetic about a certain flight instructor?"

It was Nora's turn to blush, and stutter. "That is, well... I..."

Chuckling, Ranma folded his hands behind his head, enjoying the byplay between the two. It wasn't often he got to watch, peacefully, while such things went on. "At least this place is lively, I was afraid I'd get bored, watchin' all the planes and stuff." He started, as the two young women eyed him intently for a moment, their chatter coming to an abrupt halt. "Er. Did I say somethin' wrong...?"

"'Planes' aren't boring," Nora declared.

Sera chimed in, "Besides, how can you think flying is anything but exciting?"

Making warding motions with his hands, Ranma tried to calm the two rather intense siblings. "Oi, oi, calm down. Like I told Sera, I'm not totally sure why I'm here, and I'm fairly sure they won't want me to pilot anything. Hell, I don't even know how to drive a car."

The sisters looked to one another for a moment, then back at the young man before them. "How did you get around, then?" Sera asked, head tilted quizzically.

"Er," scratching at the base of his braid, Ranma shrugged. "I... walked?"

"Modest, grandson. I wouldn't call what you do merely 'walking'," Juzō added, as he came up, making the conversation three-sided with his presence. The two young women snapped to attention, but did not salute, while Ranma blinked curiously from the side. "And if I were you, I'd not write myself off quite yet, as far as piloting goes. I see you've met the Polyansky sisters, good. Good. I was hoping to introduce you later, but this works out nicely. Come on, everyone, I was hoping to have a small walk while I discussed everything with the three of you."

Sera cleared her throat quietly, gaining the older man's attention. "Begging your pardon, sir, but I have luggage from my trip, and sensitive materials to secure."

"Not a problem, Miss Polyansky," Juzō replied. "What clearance for the material...?"

"Ah, Sukhoi, B-3."

Pulling out a cell phone, the elder Saotome dialed into the Ataria Base Comnet. "Yes, this is Saotome. I need someone cleared at B-3 or above from Sukhoi to meet me at the entrance to the civilian terminal, ASAP. Also a valet, for some personal affects to the billets. Jhoen? Yes he'll do. Yes," clicking his phone shut, the man returned his attention to three bemused young people. "Well! That's handled. Why don't we go find something to eat, while I get everyone up to speed?"

Ranma perked up at the mention of food. "Count me in."

Nora and Sera Polyansky looked to one another, then the two Saotomes before them, wondering what precisely they'd gotten themselves into this time.

–

"...so you see, Ranma, this installation provides not only research into the ASS-1 – that ship you saw – but also functions as a centralized test and training facility for the technologies obtained and derived from it for the time being."

Ranma nodded slightly, hopping lightly from post to post atop a razor-wire capped fence. "I get it. Why gather 'em all in one place, though? Seems like you could get more done, spreadin' this stuff around."

Nora watched the casual display of control and balance with widened eyes. Her sister beside her was little better, but managed to get her wits engaged to reply, "Ah, for one, the U.N. worries on premature dissemination of restricted material, technology, and resources, to potential opposition forces, as the globalization effort hasn't concluded in all forums currently."

"Come again?"

"She said they don't want the unknown bad guys to get it, before they know for sure who they are," Nora paraphrased.

Ranma nodded, hopping down to walk beside them as they reached the end of the fenced-in enclosure. From the near distance inside the fence, the sounds of automatic weaponry being relaxed could be heard. "So that's one reason. What are the others?"

Juzō managed to keep his grin at the Polyansky girls' reactions private. He was going to enjoy watching his grandchild break some people's minds, in coming weeks – things had gotten so routine already! It was criminal. "Trust, mostly. The finished and prototype designs created here at Ataria Base are distributed across the U.N. Navies and bases, following the funding trail. We can't ask for money, then deliver nothing, after all. But, the brains behind them are kept here. With the Anti-U.N. forces still at large, we can't allow something with too much potential out in the field.

"That said, you can't close Pandora's Box. Generally, we're expecting a three month to two year blind period on all new innovations. During that time, those concepts are kept locked up tight based on their potential. Past that mark, however, and depending on need, we relax the restrictions. It is, after all, impossible to keep a secret perfectly. Soon in fact, the true nature of ASS-1 will be released."

Ranma snorted. "No kiddin' about secrets," the young man agreed, before a sense of dread washed over him. It was followed by something more tangible.

One must remember two things when being the subject of a Jusenkyo curse, Ranma knew. The first, is that the longer you avoid the change, the more difficult it becomes to do so. For the last two years he'd fought the curse, railed against it, sought cures and worked to if nothing else, understand what he bore. What he'd come to learn grudgingly was that for whatever reason – be it divine mandate, modified luck, or just cosmic humor potential – those cursed by Jusenkyo were water magnets. After all, it wouldn't be much of a curse, if the trigger could be avoided easily. Waterproof soap, ponchos, umbrellas, even artifacts like the locking kettle and ladle were only temporary, if by varying degrees. The bottom line remained – the change could not be avoided.

The second thing he'd learned, was that without fail, if it was the worst possible time for the change to be triggered, it would be.

Which is why a sputtering, petite, buxom redhead stood where a broad-shouldered, lithe young man had just recently been, as a low-flying jet coming in for a landing flew overhead. None of them had noted the nearby basins, used to collect rainwater for irrigation, until the jet had done a low flyover, its wake causing a massive pressure-backwash where they'd been standing. Through long practice and experience, Sera had reached up to keep her cap in place, while Nora twisted her long hair around her palm. Juzō simply sat back and watched, as the young man – now woman – ahead of him proved Murphy was still alive and well.

Luck would have it that only Ranma was in range of the spray of water lifted up in the jet's wake.

"Awe c'mon! I just got here!" The redhead fumed, shaking a fist at the now-distant aircraft, before turning her attention to the clean-water basin. "And who leaves things like this layin' around!" Kicking the catch-bin – lightly, she was mad, but not mad enough to break anything after all – Ranma vented her frustrations, before spending a moment to adjust her clothing. Years of this very thing had taught her that tie-downs and straps were her friends, if only so she didn't look like a thrift store reject every time a puddle attacked. Only after a slight cough from behind her, did she turn, eyes wide. "Oh. Er... right. Sorry 'bout this."

"Ladies, I would like to reintroduce my grand...child. Ranma Saotome."

Nora and Sera stood gaping, before sputtering off responses- "Bozhe moi..." "That is so cool!"

Laughing nervously, Ranma tugged on her braid, eying the stunned and curious reactions on Nora and Sera's faces, respectively. "So um... hi, again."

Nearly teleporting to the redhead's side, Sera was darting about, eyes bright. "This is so fascinating! Are you with technical, or engineering? Was this something they found on the ASS-1? Why didn't you tell me? Oh! Right, I bet it's classified..."

Calmly standing before the flustered martial artist, Nora contented herself on repeating a scene from Ranma's past. "Interesnoe. They seem so real."

"Um, could you... that is..."

Sera stopped her impression of a bee long enough to note her sister poking at Ranma's breast repeatedly, and by her expression, finding it not only very realistic but rather intriguing. She also noticed Ranma's color rising to dangerous levels. "Nora! Stop that!"

Realizing what precisely she was doing, Nora hopped back a step, hands in a warding posture, "Gah! Sorry!"

Clapping his hands and smiling, Juzō motioned for the frazzled teens to follow him. "Well, now that that's over with, lets eat!"

Grateful for the distraction and hoping to avoid the usual scene, Ranma heartily agreed. "Yeah, I'm starved. So, what's there to eat around here?"

"We'll be heading to the officers dining hall, for the time being," Juzō replied, blatantly avoiding the elephant in the room, to the consternation of the Polyanskys. "Currently, that and the other barracks dining facilities are the only places outside of one's own kitchen to eat."

Ranma groaned, "Tell me this isn't gonna be like cafeteria food, and if it is, there will at least be a lot of it."

Shaking her head in a negative, Nora chimed in, "The cooks are very good, and the food is fresh. This is a training base for the most part, with a top-heavy command structure. Amenities and resources are not a concern, and they don't skimp on quality." Reaching out, she gave Ranma's shoulder a squeeze, "The officer's hall is like a fancy restaurant, to compare, so don't worry about it." Her hand hesitated, patting around on the shorter woman's back. "How in the world..."

"I suppose that's alright," the petite redhead replied, eying the building they were now heading toward speculatively, while maneuvering herself away from the bemused Nora. "So why aren't there restaurants? Or anything else? I'm recognizing some of these buildings from when were on approach, but none of them are businesses."

"Well, as time goes on the S. Ataria settlement will be opened to more civilians, to support the growing production base," Juzō explained as they entered the officer's hall. "Long-term residents will have the option to bring their families, which means we'll need more residency blocks – which will need to be constructed, by third-party contractor most likely. Families will also need an infrastructure, like schools and basic needs suppliers, as the military can allow their presence, but not wholly support them.

"Currently, however, Ataria Base is still under harsh secrecy and protection screening, being only a year after the ASS-1 landed. Our projections say by 2003, the base will begin looking more like a city, than a converted airfield."

Ranma nodded absently, having all but tuned the explanation out after a point. Oh, it was interesting, she was sure, but not to her. Currently, there were more important things on her mind. "Oh, hey..."

The odd collection that had followed the redhead inside after she homed in on the smell of food would soon come to rue the five words that followed.

"...is that a buffet bar?"

–

Serafina Polyansky stared in mute shock as the cute little redhead who barely came up to her nose in height ripped through five trays of food at speeds that left afterimages of her hands. "How...?"

Used to this sort of thing from people who didn't know her, Ranma paused, sparing her remaining food a dubious look. She could slow down... a little. Pops wasn't around, and likely, no one was gunning for her grub here. "Just how I'm used to eating, from being on the road as long as I have. Eat when you can, and all you can, because you don't know when you'll get to again."

From her place beside Ranma, the younger Polyansky was inspecting the redhead with a twitching brow. "Where does it all go? There isn't... physical displacement alone should... breaking laws of physics left and right..."

"I think you broke Nora," Juzō opined, nodding in the direction of the out-of-order young woman. "But I do feel obligated to point out, as per your mother's request, that you recall that you are no longer on your training trip, and that your father is no longer here to... influence you. She would be most pleased to hear that your social graces are improving, I understand."

Ranma winced, having had a similar thing pointed out to her at a Karaoke bar by Kasumi no less, before she and her grandfather had left Nerima. It was true... she just found the old habit hard to break. Humming in thought a moment, she shrugged. "Sure, I'll slow down some. But I'm warnin' you, part of it is that my metabolism is so high. I still need to eat a lot, but I'll try and slow it down some."

Juzō grinned wryly at her. "Small steps are still progress."

"Your metabolism is high enough to compensate for that?" Nora boggled, before sitting back to slowly work through her own meal. "What do you do?"

"That is the question of the day, isn't it?" the elder Saotome replied before Ranma could do so. "Ah, I have a few things for us to do today, before we get settled in. One, I have those Jusenkyo relics, that you loaned me. Would you prefer I leave them in your care now, or later?"

"Now's good, I don't mind. Thanks for returnin' 'em though. Could come in handy, not that I'm all that attached to 'em anymore." Seeing the curious looks from the two other young women, Ranma explained, "this kettle, when used with hot water, will lock someone like me in their birth form. The ladle, does the opposite, with cold water.

"Locked bein' relative, though," the redhead muttered. "Even these are temporary, just longer lastin' that other methods. I've just been hangin' on to them. Handy, if disappointing. Mementos, sorta." Putting down her utensils, Ranma unbuttoned her sleeve, letting it flare out. She then shifted the kettle and ladle into that space, before buttoning it again. There was of course no trace of them afterward.

Nora twitched, but kept her peace, while Sera spat water across the table.

Folding his hands before him, the elder Saotome leaned forward, demeanor shifting into something more serious. "Now, I'm sure you're curious as to why I've brought you out here, considering your lack of military background, or technical expertise in the fields that support such a Base? Have you looked over the packet I gave you?"

Shrugging, Ranma sat back, her food finished. "Not yet, well... Not beyond the first page or so. Kinda dry readin', y'know?" Something caught her eye in the corner of the room, and Ranma spun to stare intently at the spot, brows drawn down in a scowl. For a long moment she held her position, before turning back to the expectant looks from those at the table. "Sorry. Thought I saw somethin'."

"Not a problem," Juzō commented, checking the corner his grandchild had picked out himself. Seeing nothing, he grunted and returned his attention to the young people he'd gathered together to speak to. "The data in that pack covers what will be expected of you, and what you can expect from the U.N.G. Military, should you choose to accept. That aside, you have a week to make a decision. Consider that time a vacation, but I will need you to sign and return the Official Classification agreement in the packet."

"And here I was just expecting the vacation," Ranma muttered with a snort. "Ah well. At least I packed bathing suits."

Sera looked between the two in confusion. "A vacation? Here? That's somewhat odd, isn't it?" Eyes lingering on Ranma, she colored. "And, could someone please explain how-"

Ranma snorted indelicately. "Spend a year in my shoes, and you'll think boot camp's a vacation," the redhead replied, pointedly ignoring Sera's attempted query. The lavender-haired woman slumped in defeat for the moment.

Juzō's lips twitched almost imperceptibly over his interlaced fingers. "We'll discuss that later. As for your vacation, I did promise a beach, and I shall deliver. But, I know your definitions of fun, so let me say that the U.N. has been generous in sending Ataria Base the best of the best, to serve as the foundation for the globalization initiative. I'm sure you can find some other martial artists to test yourself against, before getting back to me."

"That's right," Sera recalled, "you did mention you were a martial artist." Turning to Juzō, she set aside her tray, content with her meal, but still having questions if her expression told the truth. "If I may be so blunt, Saotome-san, my superiors briefed me on all the possible VIPs in the area I might encounter, and you were on the list. However, your official rank and title were missing..."

Nora nodded from where she sat. "That's because he publicly has none," she explained, as it seemed Juzō himself had no interest in doing so. "He is however afforded the same respect due to a Commander by most here.

"Ivanov and I have a bet with Focker that he's the head of what will be the left-hand branch, if and when one forms," she added as an aside to Sera, though loud enough for the man himself to hear. Juzō merely rolled his eyes, though his smile didn't waver.

"Left-hand?"

Sera addressed the perplexed redhead, explaining, "Something like the CIA, or KGB. A secret service branch."

Ranma blinked owlishly at her grandfather. "Huh. No, I don't see it."

"And you'd not be alone in that," Juzō agreed. "Really, I'm more of an advisor and Public Relations specialist. The brass here at Ataria and in the U.N. simply appreciate my work, in making their lives simpler. Fair exchange for a little personal clout, I'd say."

Nora sniffed, her brow arched. "I suppose. But I'm not dropping my bet."

"Conspiracy theories about my qualifications aside," the older man commented, drawing the conversation back into a direction he wanted before it strayed further. "I'd like for you to accompany me to the technical division tomorrow. There will be some tests, but they won't take more than an hour. Does that sound acceptable?"

The redhead heaved a sigh. "It had crossed my mind that'd you'd be as relentless in this as the other family I've met," she drawled. "But sure. Hell, they might figure somethin' out about my curse I hadn't yet."

"They may at that," Juzō replied while the sisters looked to one another, Nora mouthing the word 'curse' with a startled look. "One of the foundations of the technology contained in the ASS-1 seems to revolve around allowing machinery to adapt, within certain limits. Variability, where before, human technology was a strict linear idea. Form follows function.

"The OverTechnology, as it's being called, follows a different idea. Variable function defines mutable form. The two methods may not seem terribly different when spoken, but they are like night and day through application."

Nora joined the conversation, at that point, "There are a lot of classified projects around Ataria, but I think I can say that when I recall some of what I've seen, your curse as you call it doesn't seem quite so strange." Grinning at Ranma's surprised look, the younger woman shrugged. "You'll just have to wait and see."

Ranma grumbled to herself for a moment, sulking in her chair. "You guys sure have a way of answerin' questions, so I just end up with more."

Chuckling at the redhead's plight, Sera twirled some pasta around her fork. "And you've been dodging the topic of the day since your bath earlier. As for us, I think that's what you call a recruitment hook. Be careful, or we'll have you signing up to join the rest of us." Considering a moment, she grinned widely. "Though, if your apatite is always that vast, you may want to just for the free food."

"Three meals a day, in a buffet that won't boot me after my first visit?" Ranma rubbed her hands together, her smile wicked. "Sign me up."

–

Ranma roused himself, blinking the early morning sun from his eyes with some difficulty. It had been some small time since he'd been woken up by his father, for their morning spar... and oddly, the young martial artist found the lack saddened him. After nearly thirteen years of routine, the sudden lack left him feeling unbalanced, and lacking.

"Damn it, Pops. Can't get rid of you that easy can I?" Ranma mused, kicking up and out of his cot. Looking around the room – his room – the young man recalled the whirlwind of action from yesterday. He'd gotten a job offer from the U.N. military from his grandfather, then after arriving at Ataria, he'd met Sera and Nora Polyansky, gotten an abbreviated tour of the Base, introduced the sisters to his curse, then later, had his grandfather shuffle him off to a doctor's office for some tests and something he called registration.

Not that Juzō explained what he was registering for, but Ranma figured he would in time. Probably something to do with costs and accounting, considering. If there was a lesson for each daughter he'd gotten beaten into his head from living with the Tendos, Nabiki's had been about financial responsibility. Living, no matter how or where, had a price that had to be paid. Genma tried to avoid it as best he could, but in the end, it came back to him, with interest. It cost him the respect of his son, his honor, and even his name.

Ranma had no intention of following in the man's footsteps. Oh, he was grateful for the Art, and would always consider the old panda his best and most knowledgeable teacher, but as a human being... Genma left a lot to be desired. In fact, he was still shaking off the man's bad habits and indoctrination, two years after seeing how wrong he'd actually been. Truly, living with the Tendos had been something like culture shock.

Shaking off his thoughts on the past, Ranma dressed in a pair of jogging shorts and a button-up t-shirt, pulling on a pair of low-top sneakers. A pair of thick wool socks and a sports bra were stuffed in a pocket, in the event of spontaneous gender shifting. Shoes were always a problem in that regard. His female side's feet were tiny in comparison, and there was no way in hell he'd try jogging without some kind of support, in female form.

Martial artist with near-perfect body control or not, just... ow.

Pausing in the main room of the military housing, Ranma had to wonder again how all this was getting paid for. Sure, it wasn't huge – if he recalled well, Hinako's apartment was larger – but for him it seemed almost excessive. For probably the third time since arriving, he opened the refrigerator, staring at the array of food there. Grinning wryly, he closed the door again. He'd make a light breakfast after coming back from his morning run.

Some would be surprised that he still had food, considering the usual Saotome tendency to consume with extreme prejudice, but there was another side to it most didn't see. Now that Ranma had food of his own, and a place to keep it, he had the overwhelming urge to hoard it. Maybe he would just get something out...

Laughing at his own behavior, the dark-haired teen locked the door behind him, and began his jog. The sun would be fully up soon, and the false dawn pushed away, taking with it the cool, crisp air that smelled of brine and sand at night. With the sun, would come the smell of jet engines, tarmac under the punishing noon glare, and the sound of people.

Seeing as there wasn't anyone currently he knew to spar with, Ranma decided to make it a full run, pushing his speed and stamina. A snap decision also settled another matter – he'd shift into his female form midway, before starting the return trip. He already had the gear for it, may as well use it. After all the time he'd spent looking for a cure, and then having both Jusenkyo artifacts prove at best temporary if longer lasting, it was time to come to grips that he was never going to be without the curse.

Without Genma to harp at him constantly, no tomboys screaming 'pervert' at him, and no Seppuku contract over his head, Ranma found he didn't mind the curse nearly as much as he'd expected to. As he picked up the pace, moving at what he'd consider a brisk jog, Ranma considered that. How much of the disdain for his cursed side came from other people's views? Who actually didn't think badly of him, for it in some way? Ukyo's face came to mind almost immediately, but then so did an image of himself as female, in a maid's costume, working as a waitress. He set those thoughts aside, content to do the same with Nerima in general. There were some friends remaining there, and he wanted to see them again sometime, but right now he was enjoying the freedom of just being Ranma, without distractions. And if Ranma just happened to be female occasionally, then what of it? Anything Goes, the Art he lived and breathed by was defined by its adaptability. In a moment of satori, Ranma understood something he'd missed, since the curse became part of his life. "Damn. All this time I've been fighting the curse, instead of adapting. Some martial artist," he groused. It would take time, but he would do just that. He'd make the curse work for him – not against. It was a promise, to himself.

He encountered a few hiccups, missing some signs for restricted areas, till a helpful officer gave him a map which showed a wide circuit route around the base. Cutting across the plane yards, Ranma adopted a ground-eating lope that he could keep up almost indefinitely. Once his feet hit the worn tarmac that made up the outer perimeter, he paused, testing and stretching what muscles weren't warmed up yet. Glancing around, the martial artist noted he'd acquired a bit of a following. Either that, or jogging was more popular than he'd first imagined at Ataria Base. Deciding to give them a show, and wanting to keep ahead of the motorcycle he could hear approaching, Ranma slowed his breathing for just a moment, focusing his ki. Setting his feet, he centered his weight, and pushed.

A muffled crack and a plume of dust rose up where he'd been, as the abused pavement buckled under the force of Ranma's dash. Abandoning all pretense of jogging or running, he poured himself into a full sprint, leaning hard into the wind of his own passage. Focus narrowed down to a tight tunnel, Ranma regardless noted the carrier ship he crossed the length of in a handful of seconds, quietly pleased that his conditioning was still within his expectations.

Seeing the sun crossing the horizon over a now-visible ocean, Ranma slowed to a bouncing lope, bleeding off speed as he came abreast the shore and the sandy wash of beach that it held. If the map was to be believed, this was the halfway point in the perimeter approximately five kilometers from where his sprint began. "Not bad time," Ranma noted, pleased with himself. Hands on his hips, the martial artist breathed heavily through his nose, taking in the scents and peace there greedily along with lungful's of air. "Definitely need to come back here, later," he promised himself. "First things first though..."

Padding slowly to the wash, Ranma felt the chill in the water easily enough. Definitely suitable for triggering the change. Seeing no one around to comment or call out, Ranma shucked off his t-shirt, tying it around his waist for the moment. Sports bra in hand, he splashed himself with some of the crystal blue surf that beckoned.

Almost before the water had finished spraying against her skin, Ranma was pulling the athletic support down over her breasts, then quickly shimmying into the t-shirt after. Back on the tarmac, the shoes were tightened down with the extra pair of socks in place. Not ideal, but better than barefoot or slipping soles. It was then she noted the rapidly approaching motorcycle, apparently bearing down on her position.

"Same as before? Hmm, well. May as well see what this is about," the now-redhead muttered, bouncing in place lightly to keep her heart rate up.

The bike's rider was apparently not expecting to see her, though it was clear they were looking for someone. After passing, Ranma noted the helmeted head do a double-take in her direction, before the motorcycle was pulled into a punishing spin, bringing the rider back to her. Pulling abreast, they kicked the stand down, before dismounting.

Ranma was surprised to see a wide-eyed Serafina Polyansky after the helmet was removed. "You... how...?" the lavender-haired woman sputtered, looking back the way she had come, then at the obviously not-winded redhead. "What?"

Bemused, Ranma halted her stationary jog, tilting her head. "Um, try that again?"

"How did you outrun my bike? That shouldn't be possible!"

Blushing slightly, Ranma tugged at her braid. With more than a little chagrin, she recalled the urge to show off earlier, and now that she was faced with the fallout, knew she'd made a mistake. Showing off was one thing, but she didn't want to freak out the natives. This wasn't Nerima where people had been acclimatized to such things after all, and who knew what could happen because of such a thing? "Um, superior physical conditioning?"

Sera sputtered again. "That's not human!"

"Oi!" Ranma groused, hands on her hips, anger easily eclipsing her earlier anxiety. "I'm absolutely one-hundred percent human, damn it! I just work damn hard at making myself one-hundred percent awesome as well."

Shaking her head, the elder Polyansky sister regarded the shorter redhead with an incredulous look. "I know human limits, Ranma. It's what I do, part of my job. This is way beyond them," she noted with certainty. Her look became speculative. "Is your... um... "

"Female form?"

"Yes, sorry," Sera demurred, before shaking her embarrassment off. "I didn't know what to refer to it by. But, yes. Is your female form as fast as that? I was fairly sure you had black hair, before, so..."

Ranma shrugged. "Faster, really. I trade off power for speed in this form."

Sera adopted a thoughtful posture, rubbing at her lips with the back of her finger. "Alright, well last time you had a lead on me. This time I want to try something."

Still mildly annoyed at the insinuation she was using some kind of artificial augmentation to do what she did, Ranma found herself feeling less than cooperative. "And I'm supposed to play along, why?"

Taken aback by the heat in Ranma's words, the Polyansky girl backpedaled, "I'm sorry, I was just surprised. I've never seen anyone do something like that before, and it's my job to find people's limits." Fidgeting with her helmet, the pale-haired girl deflated slightly. "I guess that wasn't very nice of me, making accusations off the start, was it?"

"Part of why I can do that is because I work hard. Have worked hard my entire life," Ranma pointed out, calmer as a result of Sera's words, but still determined to make her point. "But... well I suppose I can forgive you. Not like you see someone as cool as me that often, right?"

Sera stared for a moment, before bursting out in a round of giggles. "No, Ranma. I've never quite met someone like you before."

Ranma preened for a moment under the assumed compliment, before turning her attention to Sera's motorcycle. "So, this is yours? Looks nice."

"Yeah, I just got it a few months ago," Serafina gushed happily, running a hand along the gas tank of the sports bike. "It's the latest from Honda, just a civilian model, but I like it. The VTR series like this one are some of the best racing bikes out there, and this one's a 1000cc model – way beyond what you'll normally need for street use. That's why I was so surprised, Ranma. This thing can top out at 250 kilometers per hour."

The redhead blinked at her. "Well, that sounds kinda fast."

Sera stifled the urge to palm her face. Seeing a way to get her curiosity from earlier sated, as well as do the redhead a favor of sorts, she carefully chose her words. "Yes, Ranma. It is. And you were at least pacing me, earlier."

"Huh, never had a way to measure how fast I could sprint," the petite redhead muttered, before perking up. "Say, lets race back!"

Sera pushed aside the screaming voice in her head that pointed out that Ranma had already sprinted five kilometers, nodding happily in answer. "That sound fun. Since you seem so interested in seeing how fast you can go, why don't you pace me this time?"

Ranma considered that, nodding. "So, just keep up with you?"

"Bingo!" Sera chirped, winding her hair up with a hand, before putting her helmet back on. Flipping up her visor, the foreign girl grinned. "We race to the... say to the BOQ? You know where that is?"

"Uh, the bachelor officer quarters? Yeah, I saw that on my map," Ranma pointed out, pulling said object out of apparently mid air, much to Sera's consternation. "Aren't you a girl?"

Sera's brain hiccuped for a moment, before she shook off the feeling. "Well, yes. But, uh, that's where Nora's staying. I wanted to talk with her too this morning. And it's not gender-segregated. Those are for any single officers."

"Oh," Ranma replied, shrugging off her confusion. The military, she was deciding, was just strange at times. "Yeah that works fine. So shall we get started?"

"See you there!" The other young woman sang out, dropping her visor while kicking her bike into a roaring start.

Ranma took a moment to regain her focus, cycling her ki in much the same fashion as for the Amiguriken, but without the spike for instant speed. It had taken her a while to do more with that one lesson than let it be a single technique, but after a year and with more examples of ki use under her belt, it proved an invaluable base to learn from. Finding an equilibrium, the redhead nodded to Sera, who dropped her brake, throwing the bike up onto a single wheel briefly before it tore off.

Grinning wildly, Ranma lunged forward, her more flexible female frame tearing at the pavement with long, fluid strides. Quickly coming alongside the motorbike, she shot a grin to Sera, who nodded and took another gear. Soon, the two were eating up the distance, while the occasional Ataria Base personnel checked their vision to make sure they weren't hallucinating.

Blazing through the gate to the BOQ, the two came to stop – Ranma bleeding off velocity by going into a bouncing lope that did interesting things to her physiology despite the use of support, while Sera simply pulled her bike into a hard, rubber-laying turn. The foreign girl grinned at Ranma's antics, till the now-panting redhead came to a stop, hands on her knees while she sucked in lungfulls of air. Spacing her words between gasps, the petite, still-smiling Ranma asked, "So, how'd I do?"

Sera had set her watch before they began, and took a moment to check her bike's gauges. "Looks like we pulled five-and-three-quarters kilometers in just under a minute and a half." Doing some rapid math, she grinned. "Averaging 230 klicks, though I know I was pulling redline there in the last stretch, where you fell behind. That was just under 250."

Nodding, the martial artist gave in and collapsed to her back, chest heaving. "Whoo, don't get a chance to really tear loose that much anymore. Never can find that much open real estate, y'know?"

Chuckling, Sera's eyes gleamed. "Well, if you want, we can make this a regular thing."

Ranma shook her head, a negative, eyes taking in the sky and the rising light. "Not every morning. Need to find a sparring partner, or somethin'. Gonna get real rusty, otherwise. But now an' then, sure."

Sera considered what she'd just seen, then tried to translate that into potential martial arts prowess, and came up with something out of a Hong Kong B-movie studio. She decided that discretion was the better part of avoiding a beating, and to not mention she had some CQC training from Sukhoi. "Well, I'm sure we can find someone out at the Base that'll keep you in shape," she offered, all the while knowing full well that was an astronomical chance at best, if her theory was correct. "You catch your breath, while I get Nora's lazy ass out of bed."

Offering a lazy wave in answer, Ranma contented herself on staring at the sky for a few minutes, while her body cooled down. Turning her head, she regarded Sera's bike, a slow grin working across her face. "I don't like cars much, but that thing has potential," she thought to herself.

On the third floor of the BOQ, a rather heated discussion was taking place in tersely spoken Russian. "You're shitting me. I don't believe you."

Sera glared at her sister, whom she had literally dragged out of bed by the arm. "Look, Nora, I'm being honest here. She sprinted – sprinted! – five klicks, from around the BEQ to the beach, then raced me on foot here, while I was redlining my Firestorm. Just over ten kilometers, sprinting, Nora." Sera shook her head, "I would have called bullshit too if I wasn't right beside her for the second part."

"That's inhuman," the younger Polyansky muttered, noticing the wince from her sister. "What?"

Sera made a warding motion with her hands. "Don't say that to Ranma. I did, and she got really mad. Apparently, she takes a lot of pride in her conditioning and ability."

With a hum, Nora considered that. "Suppose if she was capable of such things, it would make sense. And wait, she? I thought..."

"Nora, I'm not kidding here. Hell, there's probably some surveillance of it that'll hit the dining halls later. And yes, she. Well, at the moment. Hell, I call it like I see it."

In the way siblings do so, Nora knew when Sera was lying. This wasn't one of those times. "God, you're not kidding. That's... wait. Why did Saotome bring him... her, oh damn it whatever! Why here, then?"

Sera stomped her foot angrily. "C'mon, Nora! This is easy! What possible use could Ataria Base have for someone with that kind of ability? Without military training?"

Nora's eye grew wide in realization, "Test pilot!? You're kidding, right?"

–

The peaceful blue above was torn apart in a roar and scream of metal, defying the call of gravity and logic as a formation of fighter planes broke apart. Pairs of planes rolled and climbed, then blazed forward performing maneuvers impossible for conventional aircraft.

All the while, Ranma lay on her back, blue on blue of the sky reflected in her eyes.

"That... looks like fun..."

–

"This... is your idea of fun?"

Sera pouted cutely. "What, have you never done Karaoke before? I thought you were Japanese!"

Ranma growled, shooting the woman a look that could peel paint, before noting her grin. "Oh fine. Yes, I've done Karaoke. Just not in this form, alright?" Sulking, the now-male Ranma settled back into the padded bench seating of the enlisted dining hall. A far cry from the officer's variety, the 'common soldier's' cafeteria was a homier place, and the people there seemed to be a bit friendlier, if also noisier.

Part of that had to do with what was apparently the newest craze on the island, since someone footed the cost for a party-style Karaoke machine. Now it seemed every five minutes, another uniformed figure would plug in a CD and start caterwauling to the amusement or horror of those present. "God, they should just play someone stepping on cats over the P.A.," Nora growled, downing her beer before slamming on the table with a heavy 'thunk'.

"Now, sister, be nice. Talent or not, all they want to do is unwind and take their minds off the hard reality around here," Sera soothed, calming Nora's annoyance. The younger Polyansky finally nodded, looking apologetic. "Besides, it's fun."

Sera turned to Ranma, who was doing his level best to push himself into the cushions of the bench. "And as for you... I know I saw you palm some CD's when we dropped you off to change earlier," the implacable young woman poked a finger in his direction. "So! No dodging! I wanna hear you sing, mister!"

Ranma looked rebellious for all of ten seconds, before Serafina turned the tables, ramping up her pout. "Oh fine, damn it. Fine." Standing, the young man grabbed the small pack he'd brought with him. "I'll just be a moment," he muttered, stomping off toward the cafeteria line. The Polyanskys watched confused, till the young man got a glass of ice water, before ducking around the small divider that shielded the restrooms from public view. A moment later, a petite redhead came back, and sat the glass in the waiting bins for dirty dishes, before walking back toward the restrooms.

"Sera, don't you think it a little odd that Ranma's so at ease with that?"

The other young woman just shrugged. "I have no idea. I can't even really imagine it, so trying to place myself in such a situation doesn't work so well." Serafina paused a moment, before shaking her head. "Though, I don't know if I'd say Ranma was at ease with the curse, or whatever it is. He – or, rather she at the moment – seems to still be adjusting to it, if I'm not mistaken."

Nora regarded her sister critically. "Still? I suppose you'd know, being the one trained to analyze people. But didn't she say that it had been two years since she got the... curse?"

Sera shrugged, taking a long drink of her beer. "I believe so. But her history isn't something we know. And this isn't a small issue – a lot of a person's self-worth, goals, habits, even identity are wound up in their gender.

"Imagine if Ranma grew up in an environment with very traditional morals. The shift would be considered perverse, and the female body – when she had it – something to be considered unsightly and unclean, in the natural order. Not saying that's the general view, just likely considering the source and what Ranma was born as. Also, that's by our thinking, from where we grew up. Don't know how that kind of conservative thinking works in Japan, but you just know that kind of upbringing would massively affect how Ranma viewed himself, when it was herself instead."

The elder sister paused, shaking her head. "On the other side of the spectrum, consider a very liberal home. They would, alternately, push Ranma to embrace all aspects of that new form, and accept it openly. Now if Ranma had a typical childhood, with the usual influences, that would go against his own gender-identity at least in terms of sexuality."

Nora winced. "Just no way to win, huh? The conservative side would make him out to be some kind of inhuman thing, while the liberal side would tear up his identity." Tapping her chin in thought, the younger Polyansky shook her head. "I don't see the Ranma we know being the result of either of those, though."

Serafina nodded sadly. "Not likely, no. Such clear-cut families are rare. Considering Ranma's adjustment and acceptance – if grudging – of the curse, she had a little of both, but no real time to do much of her own adjusting and thinking on it." Grumbling to herself, she continued, "more often than not, families do less supporting than we think they do. Expectations make parents try and shape their children, rather than let them make their own decisions."

"Now is not the time, Serafina..." the other young woman warned, getting a terse nod in reply. "Besides, cheer up. It looks like our little redheaded dynamo is ready to do her number."

Just as Nora had said, Ranma was up at the 'stage', which was more of a cleared out area at the center of the dining hall. Apparently the bag she was still carrying had a change or two of clothes in it, as she was now wearing a burgundy knee-length sundress with a brief matching jacket over it. The effect was feminine, if somewhat more formal than the atmosphere dictated.

As seemed to be customary with some of those that stood up, Ranma had a few words to say about her chosen song. However, seeing a petite redheaded bombshell before them in a dress, a few of those present voiced their enthused approval. "Alright, um... well hi," she began lamely, to the laughter of those gathered. Her cheeks pinked slightly, in response. "My name's Ranma. I'll probably be seein' you all a little more often, if my enlistment goes through," there were some cheers and catcalls at that, and it was the redhead's turn to laugh, a rich and warm sound.

"Alright, enough of that," she declared, as the room quieted. "This is a song I sang to someone I spent nearly two years with, before I came to Ataria. I got no shame in sayin' this is the only song I've ever sung in public," Ranma pointed out, to a spattering of chuckles. "Ok, ok. Enough stallin'. This is 'Just be Friends', from Dixie Flatline." As she finished her introduction, the music began, setting up a jaunty tune with a very definite beat more suited for dancing.

Sera and Nora both stared in frank bemusement as the petite redhead spun in place, her dress flaring slightly, before she tucked the microphone up to her lips and began the song with a strong, clear voice. A sway in her hips, Ranma stepped with the beat on the small cleared area that made up her stage, for the moment every bit the idol singer.

Just be friends
All we gotta do is
Just be friends
It's time to say goodbye
Just be friends
All we gotta do is
Just be friends, just be friends...

Nora reached over and pushed her sister's jaw up, where it had gone slack. "You were saying something about adapting?"

Blinking rapidly, Serafina shook off her momentary shock. "I... maybe it's a case of denial. Protesting too much." Ranma's voice pealed around the room, and the elder sister took in the way Ranma played to the crowd. A mostly male crowd. "...or I could be completely fucking wrong." The lavender-haired woman threw up her hands. "You know what? I have no idea."

Beer in hand, Nora just nodded, enjoying the show with a slight smile, as Ranma opened up with the body of the song.

I knew it at the bottom of my heart,
the hardest choice would be the best.
Mistakes we made that stayed with us,
and in the dark took away the rest.

Just be friends...

I remember the time back when we first met,
You offered me a hand, then your smile.
Now it's all we can do to just say hello,
How could our love turn so hostile?

All we gotta do is...

Bringing up old issues is so easy for us to do,
pointing fingers and always locking horns.
Fighting pointless battles with our words,
while our hearts are full of thorns.

Just be friends
All we gotta do is
Just be friends
It's time to say goodbye
Just be friends
All we gotta do is
Just be friends, just be friends...

It's raining in my head, I'm stunned, standing
dead, my vision blurry from these tears.
I still love you, I don't wanna be apart from you,
Goodbye is something I don't want to hear.

Just be friends...

Just once, Just once, if I could have a wish,
I'd endlessly relive those perfect days,
before the love that held us came apart,
I can't hold on to it, it's slipping away.

All we gotta do is...

Despite my determination, the pain is still there,
I hold it in, but my screams still come.
Nothing is left at the end of this chain,
The bond between us has come undone.

Just be friends...

Please don't say those words to me,
goodbye, my sweetheart, farewell,
we have to leave bravely,
and it's all over...

Just be friends.
All we gotta do is just be friends.
It's time to say goodbye and just be friends.
The one thing I can't do is just be friends, just be friends...

Ranma finished strong, the arm not holding her mic stretched out to the crowd, as her words, though sad, carried a warm energy. As the last notes died off, the redhead sketched a bow, as the room exploded with applause. Blushing hotly, Ranma bowed again, before handing over the microphone and retrieving her CD from a babbling ensign.

Looking as if she'd rather curl up under the table, Ranma took her seat again, staring blankly ahead at the two women across from her. Finally, some focus returned to her eyes, as she seemed to shake off her thoughts. "Um. What?"

"You know," Nora pointed out, sliding the shaken redhead a beer, "I was planning on singing tonight. Remind me next time to go before you. No way in hell am I going to try and follow an act like that," she quipped, adding more fire to Ranma's blush.

Sera noted this, shaking her head. "Well, now I don't feel so bad about what I was planning for later."

Later, Ranma knew, probably had something to do with the rest of the evening she'd been invited to – though the sisters had done so with her as a male. Supposedly they were going to do some swimming and sunning on the beach, and though Ranma wasn't thrilled with the idea, she had planned to go female, to enjoy the sun and surf. Considering her time with Genma, taking time to just enjoy such a thing had been impossible, then if possible, more-so with her curse. With a creeping sense of dread, Ranma favored Serafina with a worried look, "And what's that?"

"Well you see... Nora here-"

"Hey! You can't pin this all on me! That loudmouth Focker just had to let his trap run."

Sera grit her teeth and counted to ten slowly in Russian. "Be that as it may, Nora issued a challenge to Focker and Ivanov, two of the pilots she works with in testing. That would have been fine, but-"

"Sister dearest here," Nora interrupted, "pointed out you'd be with us at the beach. The boys assumed you were a girl, considering you got invited there by us, and so they got two more of the test pilots to make it a fours game."

Ranma looked back and forth between the two women, knowing she wasn't going to like the answer to her question. "Fours game of what?"

Nora and Sera looked at one another, then to the worried redhead fidgeting before them. As one they replied, "Beach volleyball."

The sound of Ranma's forehead cracking the marble tabletop was lost in the pealing laughter of the sisters Polyansky.

–

"You understand that I could vaporize you both where you stand, right? Well, maybe not, but it'd be a close thing!"

The two young women nodded, matching mischievous grins on their faces, not that the speaker could see them from inside the changing room.

"And that there's probably no one on this island that would believe that I was capable of doin' it... right?"

Nora and Sera shrugged, nearly in unison.

"Ancestors, how does this keep happenin' to me," the redhead muttered, before the door banged open, causing her to squeak in surprise. "Hey!"

Nora stood there, hands fisted on her hips. "Oh will you stop whining!" Eying the buxom redhead in her cutout black one-piece, the youngest sister's eye twitched. "God above, you've got the body of a model, and you're sulking about showing it off."

The suit in question was a form-hugging number in simple black, with a cutout that exposed Ranma's midriff, essentially mimicking a bikini with its style. The neckline dove low enough to expose a fetching amount of cleavage, without seeming too showy, and the lower half did the same, proudly showcasing a trim, flat, enviable stretch of skin from sternum to some small distance below Ranma's navel. Overall, it was more conservative than a bikini, but less modest than the typical one-piece. The difference was in the cuts and angles, that showcased the currently-woman's figure, to mouth-watering detail.

Ranma, despite knowing full well that yes – she did look damn good – was still hedging on actually leaving the impromptu changing room. Apparently, there was enough interest in the beach to cause those on Ataria to construct a small building to house such facilities, as well as some restrooms. To make sure she didn't need to deal with any bobbles in her curse, Ranma had used the ladle on herself, knowing well enough that the kettle she kept alongside it would counter the artifact's effects. There was nothing quite as frightening to the young woman, than the idea of being caught out in her male form, in an outfit like this.

Speaking of, "I don't want to show off," the redhead bit out, though her pride sang at Nora's compliment. "And I don't wanna get gawked at by that blonde jerk again. Ancestors, it was bad enough when I had real clothes on!"

"Come on, Ranma," Nora whined, her normally unflappable demeanor crumbling. "Focker's like that to everyone. Just ignore him, it's what Sera and I do."

"But I... that is..." sighing in defeat, Ranma pushed the stall door open the rest of the way. She was locked, on a beach, and in a swimsuit. The battle was already lost – only the war remained. And she'd be damned if any blonde smooth-talking, giggilo was going to score a final victory over Ranma Saotome!

The redhead winced as her mind replayed that thought in a most unsavory manner.

"Alright!" She declared, punching a her right hand into her left palm with determination. "Lets get out there and-"

"Sunbathing is soooo nice," the redhead almost purred, shifting slightly so that the glare from the sun on her closed eyes wasn't quite so dazzling. It was not something she advertised, but there were some things about being female that were just better. Ice cream. The feel of some clothes. Music. And sunbathing. To the languid redhead, it felt like she was simply drawing in happiness and contentment through her skin. She felt more than heard or saw the other two women to her left, indulging in the same activity after their first game – such as it was. Ranma found it amusing to think of sunbathing as any kind of 'active' anything, or that volleyball match as anything but fair.

Sera and Nora were her company in baking slowly, while some associate of Roy Focker's, Aries Turner, sat nearby tinkering on a laptop. The game had been pretty one-sided, once the two teams analyzed each other's strengths and weaknesses. Ranma had moved to back up Aries, while the boy's bravado kept them from doing the same with Lang. It was really quite sad.

Ranma's goading probably didn't help much, but she figured what the hell – Anything Goes, right? Works for volleyball too.

"So you'll be starting with your training soon?"

The redhead turned to face the speaker, noting Aries peering at her intently. Flipping her sunglasses up to her bangs, Ranma stretched. "Yeah, should actually be in tomorrow for the initial stuff. Shouldn't be a big deal."

Aries failed to hide her smirk. "Oh, I think you'll be unpleasantly surprised. The G-force tests alone usually leave most in bed for a few days after."

"G-force? Isn't that an anime?"

The scientist's eye ticked slightly. "No. Yes, I mean it doesn't matter!" The dyed blonde took a stilling breath, while Ranma smirked from her towel. "G-forces, as in pressure based on acceleration against gravity. You're experiencing one 'gee' right now, being at rest, in Earth-standard gravity."

"Oh damn it, she got her started," Nora complained, pulling out a headset that got slapped away by her sister. "Oh come on..."

Serafina smirked, turning her attention to the conversation. "I don't know, I think Ranma will surprise you."

Aries snorted in an unladylike way. "I don't surprise easy."

"She is a pragmatic one," Roy pointed out, draping an arm across the woman's shoulders, the hand there straying while holding a cold beer. Aries shrieked as the cold can slipped across her breast, upsetting her laptop with her flailing. "High strung too," he noted with a wide grin, as he kept the woman from spilling her work into the sand.

"You jerk," she half-heartedly complained, rolling her eyes behind her glasses. The two blondes settled, while Ranma observed the interaction closely. "Anyway. Roy and DD are sort of our control group for test pilots. We put them in just about everything, to see how things work out. DD's got more experience, but Roy's something of a prodigy."

Ranma nodded slowly, sitting up and rifling through her pack. Pulling out a pair of shorts and a tee, she slipped the shorts on to a few curious glances. "Gonna work on my katas a bit. I don't like being idle, as nice as this is."

"You're supposed to be here relaxing," Serafina pointed out, trying to pull the tee back off Ranma's head as she was trying to settle it. "You know, having fun? That thing you do when you're not working?"

"Hey, I like training fine," Ranma countered, though there was a ring of uncertainty to her voice. "'sides, I don't know a whole lot else."

Considering the problem a minute, Sera smiled brightly. "Then let's go swimming!"

Ranma bit her lip, but nodded. "Alright. In a few minutes, though. I really wanna work off some energy first."

Sera pouted but agreed, quietly curious what Ranma would be doing despite her arguments. "Well, since you're going to practice anyway... why not show off some? Show us what you can do!"

"Uh, I don't know if that's a great idea..."

"Oh come on," Nora teased, "Sera here was gushing about how you damn nearly outran her bike, and I've seen how you move. You're walking art. So, show off a little. We're all jocks of one sort or another here, and that comes with some degree of showmanship."

She really needed to work on her pout resistance, Ranma noted to herself. "Fine, fine. But I'm not answerin' any questions about what I can do, today. That's my condition." Aries looked rebellious, as did Lang on the guy's side, but no one countered her.

"The Saotome School," Ranma explained as she stood and found a decently rocky patch of ground, "is mostly aerial. I've been training a long time, so... this may be a little different from what you're used to."

"I'm sure we've seen..." Roy trailed off, his cocky tone faltering as the tiny, buxom redhead jumped thirty feet straight up, before spinning and tumbling into an airborne display of whirling, twisting, tumbling strikes that left a small flurry of wind constantly moving around her.

As she neared the ground, Ranma tucked into a ball, striking the ground with a fierce downward kick that sent her up and at an angle toward a nearby cliff face. As she approached, she spun in place, shadow-boxing an invisible opponent at her back, before returning her attention to a wall that was closing fast. Landing with one foot outstretched, she softened her landing, before striking the stone with a single finger. "Ha!" Kicking up and away with her foot, the redhead ended up above the explosion of scree and debris that blasted free of the cliff face, leaving a crater in its place. Her arms and legs became a blur, as she snatched stones from the air, throwing them against the still blossoming explosion she'd caused. Those stones struck back with tiny, crackling booms as they broke the sound barrier, cracking and changing the trajectories of other stones so that what looked like the beginnings of a deadly landslide never touched those watching with wide eyes.

Serafina gaped. "H-How is she still airborne?"

"She's using momentum from her attacks against gravity," Aries hypothesized. "But to have such a grasp of those mechanics... insane."

Finding herself at the apex of her hang-time, Ranma took another brief moment to attack and defend from an unseen foe, the snap of cloth as she moved crisp and clear in the air. As she fell, the redhead spun and twisted her hands from the hip, her palms joined as she thrust forward at the rocky bluff. "Mōko Takabisha!"

A searing bright gold burst of light cracked the overhang where the crater she caused stood out, loosening a truly massive slab of stone. Adjusting her fall, Ranma moved so that she was diving at the ground, before crossing her arms before her with a shout of "Kijin Raishū Dan!"

Air distorted before her and jaws dropped as the redhead accelerated on the slipstream of her own vacuum blades, landing with a cratering crack into the shattered ground below. Immediately she was airborne again like a missile, bringing attention back to the automobile sized boulder that was beginning to fall. Expertly judging her 'opponent', Ranma braced between the falling weight and the cliff face, roaring in effort as she planted her feet in the stone to send it up and away from its fall... and over the small camp of observers.

The women screamed and the men stared, while Ranma repeated her massive dive, launching herself back up at the boulder, juggling it as she altered its path and shape with precise strikes and massive impacts. Five times she struck the boulder hard enough to split massive portions of it free, and five times Ranma altered her fall or used a sweeping, retreating strike to increase her velocity and knock away that portion of abused material, so it never came close to those watching. Still, the massive bulk of the rock remained airborne. With a final slight kick to adjust the stone, Ranma sent another vacuum blade, shearing a smooth surface into the boulder, while attacking it with a blurring barrage of strikes.

Content with her work, the redhead launched herself at the ground for a final, sixth time, from beneath the tumbling stone with a cheerful "hup!". Landing to the side of one of the discarded larger stones she'd removed from the whole, Ranma snapped a kick at it, repositioning it. Crouching, she repeated the midair process, while shooting a glance above.

When the falling mass was two meters away, Ranma snatched it out of the air with a light hop, spinning it around horizontally to bleed off momentum, before she touched down lightly, settling the rock atop the other. Panting through her efforts, Ranma happily sank down into the sand with a wide smile. "So... martial arts masonry. We needed a table out here. Whaddya think?"

True to her word, the redhead's efforts had resulted in a wide, flat, rough-hewn stone table, big enough for a medium gathering, and sturdy enough for the kind of people likely to use it, from Ataria. The base was a large stone itself, wide enough to keep the top from wobbling, and massive enough to resist being moved easily. The top even seemed slightly polished down, but only enough to make it flat and even.

"Holy shit," Nora muttered, having long-since fallen out of her chair. Beside her, Sera succumbed to the mild shock by simply falling over, while Aries kept rubbing her eyes, looking between the now significantly reduced cliff face and the resulting table.

Smirking, if rather worn out, Ranma stood and wobbled. "Took a bit more out of me than I planned," she muttered, walking over to pick up the insensate Sera with a wicked grin. "So... Anyone else wanna go swimming?"

–

"So, looking forward to seeing how she does?"

"I'm looking forward to seeing what she is," Aries replied to Nora's question, earning her a sharp look from Sera who stood at one of the terminals, assessing the information it provided. "I'd have written the memory of that off, it she hadn't have left a quarter-ton reminder, sitting out in the middle of the beach!"

Serafina giggled, adjusting her instruments. "Somewhat hard to disbelieve in rock solid proof, eh doctor?"

Aries shot her a dark look. "For someone else whose senses are grounded in science, you are remarkably accepting of what you saw."

"Hey, I got my proof as it happened. Ranma is interesting – I'm content to let her make as many tables as she likes, in the pursuit of her need to train," the lavender-haired woman pointed out with a laugh. "Besides, she's a great swimmer. I've not had that much fun in ages."

"Sorry, sis," Nora apologized half-heartedly, "I prefer flying."

Sera waved her sibling's apology off. "I'm not complaining. I'm just happy we got her out for a bit before all the tests. I get the feeling once she focuses on something, she'll resemble a pit bull."

"Tunnel vision?"

"More like laser-sharp intent," Sera replied to Aries' question.

—

AN: That was my re-edit of the Vocaloid song "Just be friends", which you would find to have different lyrics for the most part. I have about five other songs done for this.. which will NEVER SEE THE LIGHT OF DAY. I made that mistake once before with Key - never again.

Not sure what happened to my motivation on this one, other than it just went away. Future plans for this one were going to involve the later plot that would become Macross Zero, proceeding as normal, with Ranma helping Nora deal with the fallout of… various things you can learn on a wiki. After that, he continues on as a Sukhoi test pilot, eventually becoming their 'ideal' for pilots, leading to, ultimately, the VF-27 'Lucifer' and Galaxy Frontier.

Juzo Saotome, would go on to be prominent through his descendants on the Macross Frontier, namely Alto.

The triangle I had built up for Ranma would have been Sheryl's mom, and Nora.