Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction ❯ Phoenix ❯ Chapter 6 ( Chapter 7 )

See Chapter 1 for Disclaimer

Misawa AB

Ranma was sitting in the 35th Security Forces Squadron security control center, the flight chief, MSgt Williams, gently prodding her about the incident in the commissary this afternoon. She also brought up the incident that occurred yesterday in the cafeteria at Edgren High. Sgt. Williams was interested in this development, and how the young woman handled herself. "Mrs. Marx," he asked, "why didn't you do the same thing today?" You're more than capable of defending yourself." The master sergeant had a daughter about her age back in the States, and would've moved heaven and earth if someone like the BC's son did what he did to Ranma to his daughter.

"I…I don't know. Chris asked that I restrain myself, and I did. I've been trained as a martial artist for the past ten years. I'm learning the domestic role as I go along.

"I know I shouldn't fight, but I also know I shouldn't be this passive creature that can be walked all over."

MSgt. Williams' radio suddenly squawked to life. "Security Control to all posts and patrols, be advised, we have a Pinecone One. I say again, we have a Pinecone One. All Echo and Whiskey elements go mobile. Security Five, Security Control."

Williams keyed his radio. "Security Five, copies Pinecone One." The building shook as the alert F-106s streaked down the runway.

"What's going on?" Ranma asked, concern in her voice.

"There's an alert scramble."

The redheaded martial artist paled. "Does that mean war?" She remembered that her husband was on alert status this evening.

"No. All it means is that there's a plane that may have wandered off course, or is as yet unidentified. Sometimes it's a Russian plane, sometimes its an off course airliner. Since the accidental downing of KAL flight 007, the Air Force has been really cautious about making sure that the airlines are on course." Ranma sighed, visibly relaxing. "Mrs. Marx, would you like me to take you home?"

"Thank you Sergeant Williams, I'd appreciate it. What about my husband's jeep?"

"As long as the steering wheel is locked, it'll be fine. I'll leave a note for the day shift flight chief to send a cruiser over to pick you up so you can get it."

"Thank you again, Sergeant. You've been most helpful. What's going to happen to Virgil?"

Williams grinned. "Mr. Leonard is going to spend the night in a holding cell. His father has been notified, and surprisingly enough agreed with us that this would be the best for him. It's going to go before the judge advocate general's office, although it may get bounced to the jurisdiction of the civilian magistrate. If that happens, God help him if he's found guilty."
------

The skies over the northern Sea of Japan were starting to get crowded. Two Tu-95 "Bear" turboprop bombers, a pair of MiG-29 "Flanker" fighters and four American F106G fighters, three miles behind and flying in a rough trail formation, all on a heading towards Japan. There had been no contact as yet from any of the Russian planes, and Marx was starting to get antsy. Every second, the formation got closer towards Japan. "Skywatch, Alfa. What's going on?"

"We're in trying to contact State and DOD now. We have no notice of any Soviet exercises."

"Understood, Skywatch." Marx squinted through the windscreen for the formation and navigation lights of the massive turboprop bombers. The moonlight reflecting off their bare metal structure made it a little easier to locate the long-range bombers. Even though the fighters had a video camera mounted in an aerodynamic fairing, Marx preferred to use the old fashioned Mark 1 eyeball to find his targets, and the helmet mounted sights did make it easier. Ah, got them at 11 o'clock. "Skywatch, Alfa."

"Alfa, go."

"Skywatch, the Bears are banking away." Marx scanned over at the MiGs. "MiG's are staying behind though."

"Confirmed, Alfa. I show the Bears turning on a vector for Vladivostok."

Marx's auxiliary radio suddenly crackled to life. "Amerikanski flight leader, this is Anadyr 1. Perhaps we can play a game, tovarich. Would you care to play a game of tag?"

He flipped his radio over. "Perhaps. What are the rules?" He quickly switched back. "Skywatch, Alfa. Looks like we're going to be playing tag with the Soviets. Keep an eye on them. And have Bravo come over to GUARD."

"Roger, Alfa."

"The rules are simple, comrade. Two on one; your two fighters versus each of our fighters."

"Alright then, bring it on," Marx said. Ahead of the American formation, the two MiG-29s split away from each other, the leader lighting the afterburners. "Doc, we're going left. Barney, you're going right. On my mark, split.

"Mark." The four F-106s split formation, each section following one of the MiGs.
------

Ranma hadn't left CSC* yet, but was sitting in the flight chief's office, listening in to the exchanges and calls between the pilots of two adversarial air forces. It wasn't hard, since there was a receiver tuned to GUARD on the wall and all transmissions were in the clear.

MSgt Williams had a mug of tea brought in for the young martial artist, to try to calm her nerves as she listened to the mock dogfight between the American and Soviet air forces. She sipped from it infrequently, as she listened; with her being a martial artist, she wanted desperately to go and help, but knew she wouldn't last five seconds in the cockpit of a Mach 2+ fighter. The flight chief noticed that she'd started clenching and releasing her fists, as she listened.

As one of the American pilots was calling out something, an alarm began ringing in the background. "Missile! Missile! Bravo 43: evade, evade!" followed by the command "Eject! Eject! Eject!" Ranma went stark white, as Williams dashed over to the receiver and turned it off.
------

"Jesus Christ!" Marx called, back on the command frequency. "Skywatch, Bravo 43 is down. I say again, Bravo 43 is down! Contact Search and Rescue; get somebody out here, two zero miles east of Reference Point Charlie.

"Skywatch, request permission to go weapons hot. Those damned Russians just flipped a missile."

"Stand by, Alfa. We're on the horn with PACAF now."

"'Stand by' my ass," Marx growled into his oxygen mask. He watched the two Soviet fighters form back up and accelerate west-towards the Soviet Union, and safety for them. "Doc, form up on me. Hap, head down to the deck, see if you can spot Barney in the water…or anything." Two sets of clicks were the reply as the first pair of alert birds streaked after the Russians.

"Alfa, Skywatch. PACAF Operations has given you a very reluctant weapons hot. As on scene commander, you have discretionary authority, but PACAF would like you to try to force the Soviets to turn around and land at Misawa. PACAF'll relay the situation to the State Department and let them handle any repercussions. Hopefully the Soviets'll be happy with just a one for one exchange.

"JASDF SAR is launching, and will be enroute."

"I'm sure they would, Skywatch. But I doubt the Russians would be so cooperative. We're also going to need tanker support for the return trip home. I copy JASDF SAR enroute."

"Roger that. We'll get a tanker airborne."

The two fighters streaked after the fleeing MiGs on tails of fire. A pair of sonic booms later indicated that the interceptors had passed through Mach 1, and the mach meter was steadily climbing higher. "Alfa, Skywatch. Bandits at your twelve o'clock; speed 1300, range 100, at your flight level and closing.

"Tanker launching from Chitose Airbase at this time. They'll rendezvous with you at reference point Charlie."

"Roger," Marx replied. He was keeping all his replies short and too the point. His concentration was focused on keeping after those two MiGs, and accidental shift in the controls at speeds approaching 2000 miles an hour would throw the fighters off course. We've got a seven hundred mile an hour speed advantage over the MiGs. Shouldn't be too difficult to catch up to them. And if Murphy doesn't kick us in the ass, we'll get them to turn back.

Flipping his radio back to the aux transmitter, he started calling the MiGs again on GUARD. "Anadyr 1, this is Alfa 31. Slow to 200 knots, deploy landing gear, and turn to heading 090. Anadyr 1, this is Alfa 31. Slow to 200, turn to heading 090, and deploy landing gear.

"If you do not comply with our orders, we will be forced to fire on you."

"Alfa, Skywatch. Contact Blue Sky on button 5."

"Roger." Marx switched his main radio over to the new encrypted channel. "Blue Sky, this is Alfa 31, flight of two F-106 interceptors, with you on button 5."

"Alfa 31, Blue Sky," a JASDF controller replied, "radar contact. Bandits are still at your 12 o'clock, range five zero miles, speed four five zero. Alfa 31 be advised that you are approaching Soviet airspace."

"Roger. Blue Sky, did Skywatch advise you of our status?"

"Affirmative, Alfa. You are still authorized weapons hot."

"Roger, out." Marx looked at the range meter on his heads up display. "Doctor, we're coming up on long AMRAAM range. Arm one missile." Marx flipped the master arm on, and selected his radar guided missiles. Marx chopped the throttle and popped the speed brakes, rapidly slowing the fighter down, Cobb following his wing leader. At five hundred indicated, both pilots pulled the speed brakes back in, and continued to chase the Russian fighters"

"Missile armed Scooter."

"Roger. You take right, I'll take left." Marx keyed the aux radio again. "Anadyr 1, this is Alfa 31. This is your last chance. Slow to 200, turn to heading 090, and deploy landing gear. I say again, slow to 200 knots, turn to heading 090, and deploy landing gear." When the Russians didn't reply, he called over to his wingman. "Doc, on my mark, commence fire. 3…2…"

"Alfa, Blue Sky. New contacts at your 11 o'clock, altitude one zero thousand and climbing, speed five hundred and increasing. Profile looks consistent with Foxhounds."

"Crap. Doc, mark. Blue Sky, Alfa. Fox 1! Swing it back around to Misawa, Doc. Let's get the hell out of here." In the 90 degree bank they were in, turning around to get away from the incoming Russian interceptors, neither pilot saw the fireball in the distance.

"Alfa, Blue Sky. Splash one! I say again, Splash one Soviet aircraft. Bogies are now at your six o'clock, your flight level, speed Mach 2 and increasing. Range one five zero and closing."

"Roger, Blue Sky. Doc, what's your fuel status?"

"Scooter, bingo fuel. I hope that tanker's close by."

"And I hope we get some cover. Those Russians are going to be pissed. Even though they started this whole fiasco. I've got Betty bitching at me also."

"Alfa, Blue Sky. Shamu at flight level 350, range two hundred, your twelve o'clock. Contact on Button 7. Also be advised, Charlie 56 is airborne and enroute."

"Roger, Blue Sky. Doc, let's go ahead, drop down, and match Shamu's speed and altitude." Cobb's replied with two clicks, as the fighters dropped altitude and airspeed.
------

Ranma sat in their house, in the comforting embrace of her husband's flightsuit, praying for his safe return. She knew that his job was risky, even dangerous, but didn't want to think about that. All she was thinking about was it could have been Marx at the receiving end of the missile. And, unfortunately, she'd completed all her homework last night, so there was nothing to occupy her mind. Every creak in the house reminded her of a knock at the door. "Maybe watching We were Soldiers last night before bed with Chris wasn't exactly the best idea," she muttered to herself as she puttered around the house. With just the two of them, there wasn't much to clean up, and the laundry was done last night as well. To keep herself fit, she'd done a series of katas, but even then, she was quickly bored. A Christmas card from her in-laws made the redheaded martial artist smile.

But there was still an underlying current of fear. Fear that this incident would have more serious repercussions; fear that Ranma might get that infamous knock at the door, resulting in her becoming a widow, that her new family wouldn't accept her as a reminder of their lost son. There was also a very palpable fear of no longer wanting to live, of wanting to join her husband in the afterlife.

In the few weeks that she'd known her husband, one of the things that Marx showed her as a way to relax, to let stress try to roll away was through music. Going through the CD collection, Ranma loaded up the CD player with what was becoming her favorites-Bach, Brahms, Beethoven, Mozart, Handel and Haydin. The strains of a Brahms lullaby began to fill the living room, as Ranma settled into a lotus position and began to meditate.

Outside, a certain panda was looking in through the fence. This would have been the perfect time to…convince his erstwhile offspring to come with him to Tokyo; her husband wasn't home, therefore no fight to get into. Now, it's been said that Genma Saotome wasn't a patient man, and prone to finding the easy way out. But the police cruiser that passed the house every twenty minutes was an extra deterrent. Something is up; maybe I'd better wait before I try to "convince" Ranma to come with me to Tokyo. So the pandafied man continued to watch his daughter through the window.

Of course, what Genma didn't know was that Ranma was no longer a Saotome, and no longer honor-bound to uphold the Saotome-Tendo union. It was a hidden Catch-22 for the overweight martial artist: Go to Tokyo, and talk to his wife and loose his head, or grab his "daughter" and head to Tokyo and try to engage her to one of the Tendos to only find out that the agreement to unite the two Schools has been invalidated until another Saotome heir could be born.
-----

Marx and his wingman had just finished refueling when a thick Russian accent came over GUARD with the weirdest sense of deja vu. "Amerikanski aircraft, this is Okhotsk 3. Slow to 370 kilometers per hour, turn to heading 330, and deploy landing gear. Amerikanski aircraft, this is Okhotsk 3. Slow to 370 kilometers per hour, turn to heading 330, and deploy landing gear."

"Doc, continue on heading 080. Blue Sky, ETA of Charlie 56?" The KC-767 was already hightailing it out of RP Charlie.

"Alfa, Blue Sky. Stand by." Marx was starting to get edgy. The Foxhounds that were approaching were just slightly faster than the Darts, and if they were coming like bats out of hell, then they were getting very close. And, there was another reason-Amos air-to-air missiles had a 75 mile range and burned through the air at high Mach numbers. At the most, Marx and Cobb would have seconds to try to do something after getting a "Missile Launch" warning, and it would most likely be their last. "Alfa, Blue Sky. Charlie 56 ETA five mike. Soviets are ten minutes out, raid count zero four."

"I copy five mike for Charlie, ten mike for zero four Foxhounds. Doc, take spacing, and be careful."

"FLASH! FLASH! FLASH! The following message has FLASH priority. Alfa 31, Charlie 56: Stand down. I say again, stand down. This is Blue Sky. Orders come from JCS and Foggy Bottom. Be advised, Soviet interceptors are turning around. Continue on heading 080 for Misawa Airbase. Contact Skywatch on button 4."

Marx was suspicious. The sudden arrival of this message could be a spoof by the Russians. Even though Charlie 56 had reported they were turning around, and they were on a supposedly encrypted. But with the number of leaks in Washington, anything was possible. He pulled up his authentication table "Blue Sky, Alfa. Authenticate 'Bravo Sierra'."

"Alfa, Blue Sky. I authenticate 'Alfa'."

"Blue Sky, Alfa. Wilco with Flash traffic. Returning to base. Doc, let's really head home."
------

Ranma bolted upright in bed when she heard the front door open. Leaving the lights off, she quietly pulled on her robe, and stealthily moved towards the second floor landing. All she could discern from the street light silhouetting the person was that he was about her husband's height and had a bag in his hands. Thinking it was a burglar; she flipped on the downstairs hall light and dove for the intruder-

Marx had just set his bag down and was turning to close the door when the light snapped on and a redheaded bundle flying down from the second floor assaulted him. The impact drove them back out the door, where they landed in a heap on the snow-dusted sidewalk-

Ranma was through with being domestic. Her home had been violated, she could have been violated, so was all set to play "Pound the Pervert". With her arm cocked, and ready to through a punch that would send the intruder into la-la land, when a humor-laden voice managed to penetrate the red haze covering her eyes. "I didn't think you'd miss me, aisuru."

Her arm came down. "Ch-Chris? You're alive?" Ranma asked; feeling, touching her husband, making sure that it was actually him, and not a ghost or figment of her imagination.

"Very much so. Sore, and tired, but very much alive." He said, as the two of them stood. Ranma attacked her husband again, but this time in an Amazon glomp that would have made her near-sister very proud.

"I was so worried. I was in Security filling out the paperwork on Virgil when we heard the scramble and the traffic between you and the Russians, until we heard those frightening calls. I was so afraid I was going to lose you," she cried into his chest. Marx reached up and stroked her hair.

"I'm not going anywhere, anytime soon, I promise you." He kissed his clinging wife's forehead. "And I try to keep my promises."