Ranma sat in the workout facility trying to meditate. That was being somewhat difficult considering what odd glances the base staff would give the teenager.
After all, how often do you get to see a man in a meditation pose upside down, standing on his head, while holding and playing a flute?
He had just returned from the world dubbed “Ernest’s Planet”, having spent the last few days shoring up Heliopolis.
When he had first gone with the team and they had been stranded, he—then a she because of the damned storm—had spent a majority of her time tossing boulders under the exposed cliff the ancient castle had been built upon. After all, she had been the only one capable of tossing huge chunks of earth both the needed distances and in the needed amounts to keep said castle from falling into the raging ocean.
It didn’t speak well for the races that built it. He’d have to remember to complain about that to the Nox if he ever got to see them again.
And up till a few hours ago, he had spent a week there moving even more dirt and rocks to further sure up the old structure. He had only recently gotten back after they had solved the issues with the dial-out program.
While this was going on, his hands flew along the flute, following no particular melody. But if one did listen to it, you would easily be able to tell his mood.
Ranma worked on calming himself once again. He had had to do that a lot since that damned box had tossed him onto this Earth half a year ago. It wasn’t like he had planned to be sucked into it and tossed on some possessed military guy fighting Teal’c, Kawalsky. Sure, it earned him some good will, but he lost that just as quick.
Well, he had warned those idiots not to try and ‘test’ him. Needless to say he wasn’t very welcomed at Area 51 anymore, what with the destroyed building, several tanks, a jeep, and one women’s shower. They had all but begged the SGC to keep him after they confirmed he was from a parallel Earth.
Actually, he did prefer it here. Teal’c trained with him, and while the man was nowhere near Ranma’s power levels—then again, who was, he thought humbly to himself—it was nice to have a teacher who could teach him something new.
And then came Carter. The woman didn’t mother him, which was good. But … she insisted he be educated. If Teal’c hadn’t admitted he needed it, Ranma would be ditching her like Ms. Hinako on a sugar binge needing a charge for a date with Mr. Tendo.
In a way, it was kind of nice having a teacher not out to shave you, harass you, drain you, or bellow about the fires of youth. Not to mention how much easier it was to study without always looking over your shoulder for uncute tomboys, Yakuza-wannabe Tendos, sneaky fathers, old letches, fiancées, rivals, ghosts, demons, etc… But really, when was he ever going to need to know calculus? He barely got algebra and she wanted him to know geometry by his birthday.
He sighed as he admitted he’d probably do it too. The woman had the same wounded puppy-dog face as Kasumi at times. And even Teal’c didn’t know a defense against that.
The former First Prime just muttered a response about not leaving weapons around a distressed female, shuddered, and wandered off. Ranma really didn't want to know.
At least Daniel had a better approach to getting Ranma to learn a language. It was a simple process.
Find scroll, claim it might be a technique or something useful to a martial artist, have him translate it himself, repeat as necessary.
The good news was Ranma had been getting a good grasp on several languages. The bad news was he was starting to suspect that Jackson had been slipping in scrolls to make his own workload a bit easier.
But at least he was near the Stargate, his probable best chance of returning home … or finding his first rescue party and trying to keep them from destroying everything. Oh, he was sure he wouldn’t end up back at Area 51, but he didn’t trust them to send him someplace … less fun.
All that time there and they still wouldn’t show me the aliens Kasumi was always saying they had there; what a jip!
But things were going good. After all, what were the odds that some insanely powerful woman would tear into his life here in this universe? He had never gone this long since arriving at the Tendos without meeting a fiancée his father sold him to. He was safe now from such crazy women … right?
In a forgotten temple in Mexico, a sneeze was heard from inside a sarcophagus.
Sure, he was stuck in an alien universe, unsure how to get home, facing snake beings possessing innocents, and fighting the good fight while thankfully not dealing with more fallout generated by his father.
But he knew he had to make it back home thanks to that image on the box. He was learning in a place a lot … calmer than Furinkan, learning new techniques after watching that Goa’uld stuff—he was still certain he could replicate that healing device’s ability if he could get a few days away from Carter-Sensei, making him consider taking O’Neill up on his fishing offer—and having a nice vacation from … well, his life.
Nothing could bring him down from that emotional high, not even how sore he felt from lugging those multi-ton boulders around.
“Ranma Saotome,” came a familiar baritone voice.
Ranma paused in his meditation, raising the flute up to his waist. “Hey Sensei, what’s up?” he asked with a smile.
Teal’c nodded with a smile. “I was asked to inform you that Nabiki Tendo will be regaining consciousness soon.”
Ranma hissed slightly. There went his good mood. Of all the possible choices for a rescue party, why did they send Nabiki?
“Are you okay, Ranma Saotome?” asked Teal’c. “You have suddenly gone pale.”
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(Posted Mon, 21 Jul 2008 12:55)
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