“Dasheen is a pleasant enough Hex,” Akane reported, “compared to some horror stories I’ve heard. It’s very … pastoral. Lots of rolling green hills, grazing fields, hedge rows, stone fences, narrow lanes, stone brick buildings and barns, quaint little villages; that sort of thing. It’s… it is very boring. Dasheen is what they call a non–tech hex; nothing works there unless it can be powered by muscle, wind, or water.”
“Well, that stinks,” Ranma responded. “Eflik is semi–tech, so we have steam and gaslights and all the mechanical contraptions the Makers have been playing with.”
“It’s very interesting,” Kasumi beamed, shifting around on the pallet to rearrange her long snaky tail. “The aliens left all sorts of gadgets for us to play with.”
“I can’t make head nor tail of it,” Ranma said, shrugging his wing laden shoulders, “but apparently the Makers have a natural inclination for craftsmanship. Whatever.”
“You’re lucky, all the work here has to be done by hand,” Akane complained, but looked a little guilty for some reason. “We don’t even have many beasts of burden unless you count… Anyway, we don’t have any monsters roaming around either so….”
“Yes, but how are you handling … that body?” Kasumi answer asked delicately.
“She’s always been a little bull headed,” Ranma smirked. All in all, he’d been uncommonly lucky to have wound up in the body he had. That knowledge didn’t make him any less of a jerk about it.
Akane’s nostrils widened with an angry snort. “That’s not the problem. I mean, miss colour vision and all, but … its awkward down there when… you know … I’m surrounded by cows all day and… it’s embarrassing. … perverted aliens.”
Ranma snickered.
“I know I should count myself lucky not to have wound up one of the girls,” Akane continued. “They out number us bulls, but they all act like… well… big breasted bimbos. They’re sweet, but dumb, you know. And when one of the other bulls sniffs around my herd I get … rrrr… damn aliens, making me act like …”
“Your herd?” Kasumi blinked. “What do you mean?”
“Hey, it’s not my idea,” Akane snorted. “If a bull doesn’t … uhm… we get sick if we … er… don’t get our daily calcium intake. So we have to… er… rasafrassing aliens…”
Ranma’s nictitating membrane slowly flicked across his eyes. He tilted his head to eye Kasumi. “Rrrr.. Is she… he… saying what I think he’s saying?”
Raising a hand to her jaw, Kasumi blushed pink. “I think so… oh… my…”
“It’s … not … my … fault…!” Akane reaffirmed.
“Ah, well, I guess I can understand that,” Kasumi sympathised. “When you’re not used to these bodies, the instincts can … you know. As long as your … healthy.”
Ranma snickered, “yeah. Make sure you get your daily dose of vitamins and minerals.”
Akane snorted. “Anyway, have you heard from anyone else? I don’t have access to this embassy so…”
“Oh, we’re lucky to have found you, so soon. We’re still conducting a census of our own hex, and some hexes haven’t used their embassy yet. Others aren’t even cooperating with the general effort.”
“Well, if you hear anything, try to let me know. They’re getting a mail service organised so you should be able to get a letter printed here. We’re a long way off, but the House of Bulls will probably want to keep on friendly relations with Eflik.” Akane blinked; having meant to say ‘Japan’.
“Oh, there’s talk of setting up trade through the embassy portals,” Kasumi said brightly. “Dasheen coal for Eflik steel tools. That sort of thing. It’s just a shame you can’t come home through the portals, but maybe we could visit face to face once we get the language problem sorted.”
“Language problem?” Akane blinked. “Oh.” She’d noticed that their lips moved out of synch, but had put it down to her new near sighted ness. “These computers are translating?”
“A good thing too,” Ranma huffed. “Nobody can understand anybody from another Hex without them. Face to face, we’d just hiss and moo at each other.”
“Stupid perverted aliens,” Akane rumbled.
Akane studied the reflection in the screen after the connection was cut. Short but powerfully built for his new species, and gender. A head like a roan bull –with a large rack of well polished horns, showing a few chips from fights already– on the beefy body of a Greek god. Akane flexed the abs and snorted. If she –he– had to get a male body, at least it was one to be could be proud of.
Akane could fight in that body; and did, she –he– admitted, over the least little thing. The Dasheen males tended to wrestle and headbutt when their aggression got the better of them. Which is did a lot ––usually over cows. Akane had an advantage over most in a brawl, but could lose her –his– head too. When skill failed her –him– at least she had brawn.
Sighing, Akane, stood up from the bench parked in front of the monitor, and turned to leave the room. She would have to get used to thinking of herself –himself– as a guy. Certainly her little herd did. They were such sweet and vulnerable cows.
Two of her herd were waiting for her outside, chatting brainlessly away with a secretary. Akane sighed as her eyes fixed on them. Maybe was really a lucky break she hadn’t wound up inside one of those brainless bodies, but it was annoying the way the sight of those feminine curves and large attributes made her perverted body react.
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(Posted Tue, 23 Dec 2008 04:20)
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らんま1/2 © Rumiko Takahashi
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