Disclaimer: The characters and situations of the Domination of the Draka are copyright S.M. Stirling; the characters and situations of Ranma 1/2 are copyright Takahashi Rumiko. They may not be used or reproduced commercially without permission. The use of these characters and situations is not to be construed as challenge to said copyright. They are merely borrowed for this work of non- commercial fanfiction, from which the author derives no financial benefit. This was sort of vaguely inspired by the bit about engineering a Homo Impericus in the most recently posted chapter of Quantum Destinies. Not to say that particular fact means the honourable author of that fic bears any responsibility for this. What follows is entirely my own fault. Draka no Kasumi! Or "Tendou Kasumi, the Genetically Engineered Conquering Warrior-type Person" ***** A Ranma 1/2 / Domination of the Draka Spamfic by Andrew Aelfwine ***** The following contains characters derived from Ranma «, belonging to Takahashi Rumiko, and situations from S.M. Stirling's Draka series, mashed together into an uneven paste by yours truly. If you like anything at all in it, it's theirs; if you hate anything, I'm the man to blame. This is a work of non-profit fanfiction, and may be archived or distributed freely so long as this disclaimer and my name are not removed. I would like now like to offer my humble apologies to Mr. Stirling and Takahashi-sama for so grievously misusing their creations. I also most sincerely apologise to Tendou Kasumi, un- questioned goddess of the kitchen and nicest person in all Nerima, who will probably do something horrible to me when Revengefic season comes around. God knows I deserve it. C&C welcome, public or private. Flames deleted, unless they're exceptionally amusing, or written in idiomatic Middle English. In the latter case, I'll want to carry on a long, boring dialogue about the loss of case structure with you. You have been warned. Now, on with the show: In an alternate universe, far, far away, scores of thousands of mercenary samurai were hired by the English Crown (don't ask why, or where they found that many samurai to begin with) to fight a nasty little colonial war in a place that would later call itself the United States. When that conflict ended in defeat, they had no place to call home, other than a struggling colony conveniently seized from the Netherlands. So there they went, along with assorted Germans, Icelanders, and Carolinians. Soon their little enclave became the ultimate dumping ground for deposed aristocratic elites, who would spend their mornings training in the martial arts, their mid-afternoons honing their sophisticated artistic sensibilities, and their nights in plotting revenge on the vulgar bourgeois forces who had damaged their cultural integrity and destroyed their traditional lifestyle choices. Over time, they would become one people, adopting a drawling, German-inflected dialect of Japanese as their mother tongue and (for no particular reason) the name of the great explorer/pirate Sir Francis Drake as their ethnic designator. And so they became...the Draka! And the world trembled at their feet and bent its collective neck to their wolfish Will to Power, for they had the almighty author on their side. Three Hundred Years Later: Tendou-Ingolfssen Kasumi lounged comfortably on the veranda of her ancestral manor, watching the sun rise over the fields. The serfs were already at work, singing their cheerful little working songs. Kasumi was supremely happy, for she knew that all was right on the plantation. And how could it not be? After all, the whole place was under the benevolent boot of her very own beloved family, just as it had been for centuries. She hitched at her gun belt, settled the weight of her ten millimeter automatic back into the comfortable place on her hip. Little birds twittered cheerfully in the trees. She took a sip of coffee. "Hmm, tastes a little funny, doesn't it, Nabiki?" Her younger sister took a meditative sip. "That it does. Strychnine, I think. Feral serf agents in the kitchen staff again. Foolish of 'em, ain't it?" "Indeed, Tendou-Ingolfssen Nabiki, it is foolish of them. Do they not realise, the vile peasant scum, that our superior genetic science has rendered us invulnerable to all poisons?" "Kunou, dahlin', you're a fine lay, and your fightin' skills are a credit to our Race, but frankly you're a pompous ass and you know it." "You utter fighting words, Tendou-Ingolfssen Nabiki. Do you seek to challenge the Blue Thunder of the Archonal Guard Legion? Do you... Are those pictures of the pigtailed girl I see before me?" Kasumi thought to herself. When would they learn? She took another sip of coffee. Yes, it was definitely strychnine. "Oh my, I guess I'd better go execute the kitchen staff." This wasn't going to be such a good day, after all. Kasumi wasn't squeamish, but executions were never fun for her. "I could do it, Sis, if you'd rather." Nabiki said quietly. "No, Nabiki, it's my responsibility." "Ranma, you fool!!!" "Gods curse it, Akane, I didn't..." He leapt over the orbitally-fabricated alloy head of her war mallet. "Really, Akane..." she swung again. A few days earlier they'd been up in the hills exchanging potshots. Only 3mm, of course, hardly more than a bee sting to the genetically engineered elite masters of the world, but still... "Akane, stop trying to club your fiance. And Ranma, you're not being very nice to Akane. 'We are not a numerous people, and nobody loves us.' Remember?" "But he insulted my shooting, Kasumi! Said I couldn't hit a running feral serf in the back of the knee at forty meters with an unfamiliar weapon at midnight!" Kasumi sighed, and took the stairs to the kitchen. Midway down she drew her pistol and chambered a round. Absently she whistled a little tune. ***** Endnote: For the record, I am completely opposed to scary genetically engineered people of any ethnic extraction taking over the world. (Even if they have appealing manners and an endearing tendency to say "Oh my!" in response to any event.) This is an evil thing, and screws up a lot of people's lives. I'm also most definitely opposed to summary executions of the hard working people who provide others with food and coffee. I am also quite aware of the fact that I am arbitrarily mixing "New Race" (H. Drakensis) characteristics and technology with those of the old style H. Sapiens Sapiens Draka. Given the other horrid things I've done in this fic, I hardly think that's excessive.