The doors BOOMED shut behind her, and transformed back to the rather modest portal that normally connected her inner and outer offices. She stalked over to her desk, ignoring the still-comatose figure lying untidily where Thor had levelled him, and picked up the telephone.
Kami-sama had the shortest telephone number in Heaven.
That wasn’t an achievement of much note – many Heavenly Exchange numbers ran over two lines in the Directory – but Bastet had never actually had to dial when she intended to speak to him.
“It is I.”
“You wished to speak to me, Sir?”
“Indeed, Bastet. You and Belldandy of the Aesir have taken it upon yourselves to support the Werecheetah race as they try to rebuild from their present state of near-extinction.”
“Yes, Sir,” replied Bastet carefully.
“I find this good, but I warn you not to smooth their path too much. Adversity shall build strength, and strength is something they shall need.”
“Yes, Sir,” sighed Bastet. “I’ll keep to advice, and not use my powers directly.”
“That will suffice. Although, I believe the Werecheetah Brittany Diggers will appreciate learning of the new members of her race.” There was a pause. “You have in your custody a young man of Japanese origin. What are your intentions?”
Bastet’s eyes narrowed. “Punishment,” she hissed.
“I thought as much. I counsel that you moderate your anger, and refrain from excessive violence to his body or soul.”
Bastet’s eyes narrowed further and her ears laid back. “I am an Eye of Ra, oh Kami-sama of the Gods. I have the right and duty of punishing those who transgress.”
“He does not threaten the people of Egypt, nor their faith, nor their gods; as such he is no more your rightful prey than is young Ranma,” said the patrician voice over the line sternly. Bastet felt the oppressive heat of the Sahara with his words, reminding her that she was speaking to He Who had given her those rights and duties. “Control thy impulses, and treat him as his foolishness deserves. Remember that many others of the Pantheons have received greater insult from him over longer time.”
Bastet hesitated, her desire to slap the little brat around like a mouse between her paws warring with her loyalty to Kami-sama in His incarnation as Ra.
“That shall suffice,” said Kami-sama. “Now, I shall leave you to his... correction.”
“My Lord?” asked Bastet. The answer was a dial tone. “Well, what will suffice?” she asked the air, setting down the handset.
Her secretary stuck her head in the door. “What did he want, boss?”
“I’m not to intervene too much with the werecheetahs... well, I suppose visiting with that nice Kasumi girl doesn’t qualify as doing too much for them, does it?”
Her secretary shook her head, making a mental note to pass Kasumi the recipe for Bastet’s favourite catnip tea.
“And I’m not to punish this brat too much,” finished Bastet, gesturing at the body lying in a state on her floor. “Oh, and he thought it would be good if someone told young Brittany about the new werecheetahs.”
The secretary regarded the dusty footprint in the middle of the figure’s back, and the evidence of Mjolnir’s use. “She’ll probably want to visit them, you know.”
“Yes, she will. And she’ll bring little Tiffany with her, and that will encourage all of Ranma’s Pard to get their own little bundles of joy,” enthused Bastet, hugging herself happily at the thought of lots and lots of little werecheetah cubs to look in on. “And I still haven’t sent Tiffany a christening present!”
Kuno groaned. Both Goddesses looked at him.
“Wherefore art the Blue Thunder, and for why does mine head ache so? Indeed, it feels as though the fair Tendo Akane blessed me with her affection in great measure…”
“That was Thor,” said Bastet.
His eyes snapped open, and he surged to his feet. “You! Foul mockery, I shall not stand for your blandishments and corruptions! For I am the Blue Thunder, and I shall free the fair...”
Bastet’s secretary, a gentler soul than Bastet herself, rapped him on the head with a closed fist as the feline goddess rose from her seat.
Both goddesses regarded the crumpled mass on the floor. “Well, that was interesting,” said Bastet. “I wonder how long he’ll be out this time?”
“I didn’t hit him that hard,” protested her secretary. “I mean, any mortal who can take Mjolnir to the head shouldn’t just collapse like a puppet with no strings from a little tap like that!”
“Puppet?” Bastet looked up with a bright twinkle in her eyes. “Go get me a nice box and some wrapping paper, would you, love? I just remembered what Tiffany’s grandfather did to that Tanya woman...”
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(Posted Wed, 02 Aug 2006 17:53)
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らんま1/2 © Rumiko Takahashi
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