[The moral of this story is, when you set out to write an epic, keep in
mind that it could wind up being more epic than you planned for.]

				Apotheosis:

			      A New Story Of

			     Bubblegum Crisis

Chapter Five

	Just before the bulky man could get his zipper down, two arms
crashed through the rear window of the car, snatched hold of the shoulders
of his jacket, and pulled him squawking into the open air.

	Aethan looked down at the small girl, perhaps thirteen years old,
that the man had been about to perform an obscenity upon.  "Run away,
little one.  Run somewhere safe," he said quietly.

	She did.  He turned to look at the would-be rapist.  "Why?"

	"She wanted it, she did, I know she wanted it ..." the man
babbled.

	Aethan closed his eyes, considered for a moment, and nodded.  "I
understand completely," he said, almost soothingly.

	"Y-y-you do?"

	"Of course," Aethan said, and let his fangs drop into view.

	"NO!"

	"You want it, you do, I know you want it," Aethan said patiently,
and did it.

	He let the pedophile's carcass drop into the back seat of the car,
hopped down, and continued on his way, whistling an old ballad.

	After a few blocks, he realized that he was no longer walking
alone.  A glance confirmed that the one who kept pace with him was a
female, of an age from seventeen to thirty, with dark hair, wearing a
white toga.

	"Madeline," he said, by way of greeting.

	"You haven't changed much," she replied, with just a hint of a
rebuke in her tone.

	"I haven't changed since last we spoke, or since I regained my
knowledge of you?"

	"The latter, Aethan.  You are still very much dominated by your
shadow, though you channel your fury against `acceptible targets'.  It
would be better for you to retreat to your mountain, where you can subsist
on the flows of energy without needing to hunt."  She paused, then sighed.
"And in one of the great ironies of existence, the very scenario in which
the possibility of redemption has come to you has also ensured that you
cannot do so."

	He shrugged.  "I'll cope."

	"You are angry with me, I believe."

	"I am.  You abandoned me in my darkest hour, manipulated me in
secret, have used Nene as a pawn ... you've been quite the Machiavellan
angel, mon patron."

	She shrugged.  "Life's like that."

	He smiled.  "Why didn't you warn me?" he asked, almost pleading.
"Why couldn't you tell me what would happen?"

	"Because, if you had not splintered your soul in that matter, you
would have died in battle against the vimogorge, and it would have set
loose the dark forces.  And the act of slicing away your conscience also
left me less than able to influence you, since my role in your decision
making process has ever been to illuminate what your conscience was
already telling you was true.  For good or ill, Aethan, your decisions
have always been your own, guided by your sense of honour and, sometimes,
justice.  Just as with that rapist."

	He stopped walking, and she came to a halt as well.  They turned
to face each other.

	"You illuminate my conscience's promptings?  Just that, and
nothing else?" Aethan asked quietly.

	She looked embarrassed, and there was a faint flush on her cheeks.
"There have been some few isolated incidents wherin I allowed my ...
respect for your abilities and role in the Cosmic All to overwhelm myself,
and in those incidents, I acted to asist you in processing information
which was already in your possession so as to arrive at conclusions which
were, in fact, objectively true."

	He smiled faintly.  "Will your respect for me allow you to check
my logic?"

	"Of course, if you will permit me to examine it."

	He opened his mind to her, and she peered in.

	After a moment, she withdrew.  "Your logic is impeccable, Aethan,"
she said simply.

	He nodded.  "Will I see you again?" he asked.

	She shook her head.  "I can glimpse only fragments of what *must*
be, Aethan, son of Eilonwy.  And it may be that neither of us possesses a
complete understanding of all the forces that are gathering.  As you have
said, `Destiny can be a bitch'.  But as things are now, at this exact
moment ... no.  We will never meet again, after I leave."

	"Then there is one thing which I would like to ask of you.  Let me
see you, as you truly are.  Not this seeming, but the truth."

	She reached up with a hand, and brushed his cheek.  "It may be
dangerous," she cautioned.

	"What isn't?"

	The woman who had instructed Aethan to call her Madeline when
first they'd met, almost one hundred thirty five years before, smiled,
stepped back, and abandoned her disguise.

	Aethan stared up into the nexus of light and geometry, and said
the one thing that came to mind.

	"Wow."

	Was there the sound of laughter as it vanished, or was that only
his imagination?  He shook his head, and continued on his way.

			        *   *   *

	Sylia Stingray sat in her office suite, scanning a Genom press
release about the recent strangeness in Jyuban.  What was not mentioned
was the fact that that region of MegaTokyo had been one of several "hot
spots" of unexplained phenomena dating back nearly forty years.

	Ordinarily, Sylia wouldn't have concerned herself with such
things.  The mysterious destruction of a building that Genom was supposed
to demolish anyway was hardly relevant to her mission in life, after all.
But Nene's phone call about the odd encounter she'd had two days ago had
stuck in Sylia's mind.

	The buzz from the cashier distracted her, and she picked up the
phone.  "What is it, Ms. Cantrick?" she asked tiredly.

	"A Ms. Nene Romanova is insisting on talking to you, ma'am.
Should I have her sent up?"

	Sylia looked at the security monitors that gave her a clear view
of everything that went on in the lingerie store below.  Sure enough, Nene
was standing at the till, looking a bit nervous.  Sylia sighed.  <Why on
Earth didn't she call ahead?  Surely she isn't still taking that Rule Nine
nonsense seriously.>  "Yes, you can let her come up."

	"Yes ma'am.  What about the man with her?"

	Man?

	Sylia looked at the monitors again.  The store was deserted except
for Nene and the cashier.

	Nonetheless ... *something* in camera four drew her eye back to
it, irresistably.  Something in that apparently empty scene seemed to be
compelling her attention -- as though something should be there, but
wasn't.

	"Yes ... tell her to bring him up," Sylia said slowly, and hung
up, watching the monitor intently.

	Nene left the cashier when she heard the news, and walked over
into camera four's POV.

	She talked to empty space, then headed for the stairs to the upper
level.

	Sylia opened the top drawer of her desk, and removed the revolver,
and began to methodically load it.

	<Eight bullets.  Five for that thing, and three for ... oh, Nene.
Why?  Why did you break Rule One?>

				*   *   *

	They had just finished climbing the stairs when Aethan felt it.

	Alexandre Dumas had described, in his tale of the doings of
Cagliostro, a certain gift that an immortal would have to possess -- the
gift of being able to sense imminent death, not only for himself, but for
others, as well.  Aethan, who had briefly met the novellist, suspected
that he or some other vampyre must have given him the idea.

	For Aethan felt death in the room that lay at the end of the
hallway.   But not for himself.

	"Nene," he said calmly, "why don't I go in first?"

	"Huh?  I mean, why?  Sylia's never met you before, and ..."

	"Trust me."

	He walked to the door, and looked back at her.  She was staring at
him, confused.  <Gods, if I'm right, and she holds Stingray in as much
esteem as she should ... this will hurt.  Ah well.>

	Aethan opened the door.

	Five bullets slammed into him, one after the other, in the
ventrical area.  They cut through his muscles, smashed his ribs, and
exited through his back, sending gouts of blood surging from him in their
wake.  He grunted at the jarring impact, and managed to ignore the pain,
throwing himself forward at the shooter.  In the distance, he could hear 
Nene give a startled shriek.  He grabbed hold of the barrel of the gun,
crushing it easily, and jerked it out of her hand, before his feet settled
onto the desktop.

	He looked down at the gun, admiring the workmanship.  "This holds
eight rounds.  You only fired five," he commented.

	"Another two were for the traitor," Stingray said stiffly.

	"That still leaves one bullet.  Who was that for?"  The woman was
obviously terrified, but keeping it hidden so well that only the faint
scent of her increased perspiration gave it away.  Aethan lifted his eyes
to look into hers.  And saw the answer to his question.  It humbled him.  
"Well.  Integrity, in addition to everything else. As much as I'd like to,
Ms. Stingray, I can't dislike you."

	"It's not mutual."

	He clambered off the desk.  "You'll be pleased to know that Nene
Romanova did *not* betray you and yours to me ..."

	"I have only your word for that."

	"And if my word was good enough for your mother it should damn
well be good enough for you," he said, scowling as he dropped into a seat
in front of the desk, aware that he was probably ruining the upholstery.
He took a second look at the pistol.  "You're almost as good a shot as she
was," he mused, "and I can see her in your eyes ..."

	"You knew my mother?" Sylia asked, a bit shaken.

	"In fact, yes.  I met her in Chicago around the turn of the
century, not long before she became involved with your father ... I mean
no disrespect to him, but I failed to see ... in any case, I have not come
here to wage war on you, Stingray-dono, but rather to employ the services
of your ... how best to put it?"

	"Knight Sabres?" Nene asked weakly from the door.  She was staring
at Sylia with an almost comically horrified expression.

	"Indeed," Sylia said, steepling her fingers.  "And how do you know
that I have ANY connection to that band of mercenaries, if CERTAIN PEOPLE
have not been telling tales?"  She glared at Nene silently.

	Aethan smiled.  It was an unpleasant smile.  "Who else but the
daughter of Katsuhito Stingray -- initials KS -- would form an organiztion
to strike against the misuse of his technology, and name them the Knight
Sabres -- also initials KS?"  He paused to let the words sink in.  "Rather
Freudian slip, that."

	Sylia had become rather pale.  "By your logic, Genom would also
know that we were ..."

	"Tsk.  Falling into the trap of viewing Genom as a monolithic
entity.  I expected better of you.  Doubtless some within the command
structure have figured it out, even as I have, and have elected to not
share that information with their superiors, their peers, or their other
pawns, viewing you and yours as useful tools, for when the final reckoning
for mastery of the Tower comes."

	"And how do you view us, Mr. Whoever-you-are?" Sylia snarled.

	"My name is Aethan DeGales, and I have no particular view on the
subject. Those whom I serve, however, view you with respect, which is why
they have allowed you to continue your crusade unhindered."

	Sylia frowned at that.  "And who are your ever-so-generous
masters?"

	Aethan calmly explained the goals and nature of the Crystal Tokyo
Society to Sylia, without going into much more detail than he already had
with Nene.  However, he felt the need to drive the point home a bit
further, so he continued.  "As I said, they respect you.  In point of
fact, Ms. Stingray, at least one of your agents has, according to rumor,
attracted the attention of *two* of the leaders of the society, one of
whom is the supreme commander, a figure of godlike powers."

	"Who else is interested in me?" Nene blurted out.

	Aethan blinked, and turned to look at Nene with a bewhildered
expression.  "What are you talking about?"

	"The supreme commander ... she's the woman with the strange
hairstyle who was talking to me on the bus, right?"

	Aethan blinked again, and became very, very pale.

	"Is something the matter, Mr. DeGales?" Sylia asked sarcastically,
enjoying the spectacle of the arrogant intruder's perplexion.

	"No," Aethan murmured.  "At least nothing that should concern you,
Ms. Stingray," he continued, regaining his normal speaking voice.

	"Very well," Sylia replied. "Accepting, for the moment, that your
story is true, what do you want to hire the Knight Sabres for?"

	He smiled grimly.  "In a district of Old Tokyo once called Nerima,
Genom is planning to erect a very large research facility."

	"They aren't planning, they've begun.  Preliminary construction
began in 2031," Sylia commented.

	"True.  And it hasn't gotten very far, due, ironically enough, to
the reason that the Tower was able to purchase all that land so cheaply."

	"The Haunting?" Sylia asked.

	"Is that what they call the feeling of utter terror that settles
into the guts of anyone foolish enough to spend more than a few minutes
there?" Aethan asked.

	"Actually, it's a blanket term to describe the odd sensations as
well as an `explanation' for the various accidents that befell workers at
the construction site, but you're essentially correct."

	"So there aren't any workers there now?" Aethan asked quickly.

	"None.  It's a comparatively minor scandal ..."

	"Fine.  I wish to hire the Knight Sabres to stage a raid on that
construction site -- a noisy, destructive raid."

	"To what end?" Sylia demanded.

	"A distraction from what I will be doing to end the Haunting."

	Sylia stared at him, with an astonished expression.  "So let me
see if I understand your plan.  You want to hire us to do an expensive,
dangerous attack on a Genom site which, even though it isn't making them
any money, they'll feel obligated to defend to their fullest capability --
the execution of which will give us horrible public relations -- so that
you can remove the one factor which keeps them from finishing the
construction of the base that you're hiring us to blow up.  Is that
everything?"

	Aethan considered.  "Oh, I forgot.  I'll need Nene-chan here to be
with me while I do what I'm planning on doing, while you engage in this
feint."

	Sylia looked like she was about to either start tearing her hair
out of her head or burst into hysterical laughter.  "You even categorize
this as a feint!  What POSSIBLE reason could I have to accept such a
fool's errand?!"

	Aethan smiled his unpleasant smile again.  "May I use your
terminal for a moment?"

	Sylia gestured for him to go ahead, and he bent to a task.  His
fingers flew across the keyboard swiftly, and within a few moments the
screen displayed the online teller of Zurich Orbital Banking Services.

	At which point he turned the monitor off, and typed in something
that was obviously a password, before turning the monitor back on.

	He casually selected an icon, one marked "Current Balance" and
tapped it.

	Sylia leaned in to look at the screen.  She blinked.  "Masaka ..."

	"For your efforts on the behalf of myself and the Crystal Tokyo
Society, I am prepared to offer you the entirety of my holdings."

	Sylia's jaw dropped.  "That's ... that's almost as much as Genom's
Biotech R&D Budget for a year ..."

	Nene tried to get a look at what they were talking about, but a
gentle touch on her shoulder from Aethan convinced her to hold her
distance.

	"No."  Sylia straightened up suddenly.  "There has got to be some
sort of a catch, here."

	"There is.  You will be facing far more dangerous opposition than
you have reason to believe, Ms. Stingray.  And if I *fail* to accomplish
what I have to, the consequences will be ... greater than I can describe.
Believe me when I tell you, the pay is *barely* equal to your efforts --
because they are vital to the survival of this city."

	Sylia sat back, wide-eyed into her chair, as Aethan disconnected
from the Zurich account, and returned to his own chair.  He smiled at Nene
briefly, and then a contemplative look settled onto his features.  He
nodded once, coming to a decision.

	"Nene, would you mind stepping outside for a moment.  Ms. Stingray
and I have certain confidential matters to discuss."

	"Uh, right," Nene said quickly, and stepped outside.

	Aethan turned back to Sylia.  "There is a further condition on the
payment.  A large percentage of it is to be earmarked for the sole purpose
of training Ms. Romanova in the better use of the battle armours that the
Knight Sabres use."

	"What ... *why* are you so interested in her?  What IS her
connection to all this?  From your reaction earlier, I gather that she
ISN'T the one of my ... the one of the Knight Sabres who has attracted so
much interest from the leaders of this society, so why are you so involved
with her."

	Aethan considered the question.  "Would you believe me if I told
you that I'd gotten her father on her grandmother?" he asked quietly.

	Sylia's jaw dropped for the second time that day.

	"I didn't think so."  Aethan stood up.  "My reasons for my
interest in Nene-chan are my own, Ms. Stingray.  Suffice to say, they are
not malevolent in nature.  Now, will you or will you not accept the job
for which I have hired you?"

	Sylia stared at the now blank computer screen.  Her face hardened.
"I will, on one condition."  She stood up, and leaned over the desk to
stare at him.  "After this is over, neither you nor any other member of
the Crystal Tokyo Society will interfere in our affairs.  Period."

	Aethan smiled, this time pleasantly.  "Of course, Ms. Stingray.
After all, we're fools to make war on our ... sisters-in-arms, aren't we?
You have my oath, that the Crystal Tokyo Society will not interfere in
your affairs ... unless you so wish."

	"What?"

	"In case you change your mind."  <Or,> he added silently, <in case
one of your subordinates decides to become an agent of the society.  
You'll forgive me, I hope, for not spelling that particular interpretation 
out.>

	Sylia stared daggers at Aethan as he turned to go.  "That won't
happen."

	"Perhaps not."

	"When does this operation start?"

	Aethan considered.  "I need the attack to begin between 2345 and
2350.  I'm not familiar with your operating procedures, and I won't
presume to dictate your tactics."

	"Wise," Sylia said, "very wise."

	"I will need Nene with me at a location that ... she knows about,
around the same time.  In her mobile suit, if you please.  Good day, Ms.
Stingray."

	He opened the door, and stepped out, closing it behind him.  If
Nene had been listening at the door, as he'd half-suspected she would, she
gave no indication of it.  Aethan fixed her with a look.  "Nene, what,
exactly, was so unusual about the hair of the woman you encountered on the
bus two days ago?"

	"Well, she had these little buns -- round ones -- on either side
of her head, with gems set in them, and --"

	"And two long streams of hair stretching behind them?" Aethan
interrupted, feeling faint.

	Nene nodded.  Aethan closed his eyes, and sighed deeply.  "Why,
exactly, did you not mention this when I asked you about the woman in the
first place?"

	"Hey!  I'd been pretty darn shocked a few minutes before you
started quizzing me!" Nene protested angrily.

	"Nene, don't yell.  I'm not upset with you, and I understand that
you were a bit ... disoriented.  But this ... this is rather startling."

	"You didn't know that I'd been chosen by the leader of this
society of yours?"

	"No, I did not.  And because of this, I did not regard your
training as a magician with as much importance as I probably should have.
In giving you what I have, I have given you just enough knowledge to place
you in danger ... and not nearly enough to defend yourself."

	"What do you mean?" Nene asked, starting to be a bit scared.  "I
mean, so far, all I've learned doesn't amount to much, but when you get
going on teaching me after all this is done ..."  Nene broke off, and
stared at his sad eyes.  "You ... ARE planning on sticking around after
you fix the problem with the Hellgate, right?"

	He was silent.

	"Or is it that ... you don't think you can fix it without ..."

	"The future doesn't belong to us, Nene-chan," Aethan interrupted.
"I don't know if I'll fail in this doing or not.  Be assured that I plan
to survive.  But," and he smiled again, this time a sad, painful smile,
"it has to be done, regardless, doesn't it?"

	"I don't understand how you can be so calm about DYING!" Nene
shouted.

	He laughed oddly.  "You know, one of the most wretched films I
ever wasted two hours watching summed it up rather nicely.  Everyone has a
full measure of life, Nene.  Most people let it just flit away ... but if
you gather it all up at once ... it can be a wondrous thing.  And if
that's not the truest definition of what magic is, then I am not --"

	"Aethan DeGales, known among the councils of the wise as the
Gray?" Nene asked.

	He shot her a look.

	"That's what that woman called you!"

	"IN ANY CASE ... I have had more than a full measure of life,
Nene.  But there may be enough left to accomplish something ...
worthwhile."

	He shook his head, and smiled again.  "And now, Nene, I fear that
I must leave you for a while.  I must make certain preparations which," he
held up a hand to ward off her interruption, "you will not be able to
assist in.  You know where to meet me."

	"I do?"

	"You will."

				*   *   *

	"You have *got* to be kidding me."

	Sylia looked directly into Priss Asagiri's red eyes and sighed.
"I'm not."

	"You *do* realize that everything about this screams "TRAP!",
right?  I mean, some guy hires us to make a run on a supposedly abandoned
construction site, expecting heavy opposition, while he uses this as a
distraction from some unspecified thing elsewhere, with Nene's help?"

	"It *is* suspicious," Linna agreed.  "And when you add the fact
that he supposedly knows our identities, it becomes pretty damn scary.  On
the other hand ..."

	"No other hand!" Priss insisted.

	"There *is* that ridiculously large payment ..."

	Priss gave Linna a disgusted look.

	Nene was sitting some distance from the others, and hadn't yet
contributed to the conversation.  Sylia fixed her with a look.  "What do
you think about this, Nene?"

	"Uh, well ... I ..."

	"Do you have anything to say about all of this?"

	"Yes ... I think we should take the job ..."

	"No shit," Priss growsed.  "You're the one who bloody well LED
the guy to us!  What's the story, Nene, what does this guy have on you?"

	"I ..."

	"Are you sleeping with him or something?"

	Nene heard Linna stifle a laugh.  "Don't go there, Priss," she
heard somebody say. It took her a rather long moment to realize that she'd
said it herself.

	"Or what?" Priss sneered.

	<Or I'll cast a spell on you that'll make you old and ugly and
alone for the rest of your life,> some small part of Nene's mind
suggested, <except that you're already going to be that last one ...>  "Or
you'll find out some things you'd really rather not know," she finally
said, and fixed Priss with her hardest, frosty stare.

	Priss opened her mouth to make some sarcastic retort.  And then
she closed it.  There was something really odd about the look that she
gave Nene -- for the first time since they'd met, it was like there was
uncertainty in Priss' expression.  "Right," Priss said, "whatever."  She
slumped into her seat, pulled out her cigarettes, and lit up.

	Sylia looked from Nene to Priss a few times, as if she were trying
to guess what had just happened.  Unfortunately, they both seemed to be as
confused as she was.  "Well, then.  Any further objections?"  There was no
dissent. Priss was silently puffing away, while Linna was now staring at
Nene rather oddly herself.  Nene looked like she was about to fade into
the cushions of the couch.  "All right then.  This evening's exercise
shall proceed in the following manner ..."

				*   *   *

	"So what exactly happened back there?"

	"There was something very fucking strange about her eyes ... I
dunno.  She looked like Roy Batty, right before he dies, when he's talking
about having seen all kinds of weird stuff ... `things you people would
never believe'."

	"Who's Roy Batty?"

	"Character in this old movie I like.  He's an artificial human.
What are you staring at?"

				*   *   *
	
	The plan was that Nene would go to the place that she was supposed
to meet up with Aethan before the others began the attack.  It took a bit
of thinking, but she realized that he probably meant for her to go to that
restaurant she'd seen him leaving, back in Nerima.

	She got into the hardsuit quickly, mounted up on the motoroid, and
rode off, acutely aware of the fact that she was going into a battle that
none of the others knew anything about, and indeed wouldn't be able to do
anything about if they did. 
	
	Nene felt ... disconnected.

	Aethan was standing outside the door of the restaurant, patiently
watching her ride up.  Wordlessly, he held the door open for her.

	Stepping across the threshold was like jumping into an ice-cold
lake.  If it weren't for the hardsuit's artificial musculature, she
doubted that she'd be able to stand up to it.

	Aethan silently examined the pocket watch he was carrying.

	"When do we start?" Nene inquired, muting the voice amplification
to a normal speaking tone.

	"We can't start until Ms. Stingray and your associates begin their
attack," Aethan answered absently, shooting a glance at the door that
glowed with a green light.

	"Why not?"

	"Because, Nene, they are part of the ritual that I'm using to kill
the vimogorge."

	"What?!"

	Aethan settled into one of the chairs in the restaurant.  "Sit
down, Nene.  This will take some explanation."

	She sat.

	"The ritual spell that I'm employing here is akin to an exorcism
.. which would drive the vimogorge back into whichever blighted dimension
that it came from.  However, no mage has ever been able to determine
exactly where the damn things *do* come from, which makes banishing all
but impossible."

	"So you have to destroy it, instead," Nene guessed.

	"Destroy it, or bind it.  And a binding only works if the object
or object the thing is bound to remains inviolate.  But the problem with
the slaying spell is this:  one has to be on one's "home ground" to have
any hope of success."

	"Exactly what constitutes home ground?"

	"Any area which you have a degree of enforceable claim.  One's
home, for example, or the meeting place of an organization of which one is
a member.  In any case, this is most certainly *not* such a place, for
me."

	"Because Genom owns it," Nene murmured, beginning to see the edges
of Aethan's design.

	He flashed her a quick grin.  "Indeed.  By attacking the symbol of
Genom's ownership of this place, the Knight Sabres are symbollically
contesting the ownership of this place, on my behalf.  If Genom is unable
to defend their holdings, they pass to the challenger."

	"Wow ... so it's not just a diversion, we do have some major part
to play in all this?" Nene pressed.

	"Of course," Aethan said.  <Indeed, Nene, there is a tremendous
symbolism in having the daughter of the creator of Genom's power base
attacking it.  One that the Soldiers know of, I don't doubt for a moment.>

	"Good.  What do I do?"

	"You watch, and if I need your help, I'll tell you exactly what to
do at the right time, Nene.  In particular, I'll need you to make sure
that no Genom forces interfere on the astral during my part of the
ritual."

	"Right," Nene gulped.  "So I'm going to have to use those weird
herbs again?"

	"Eh?  Oh.  No, Nene-chan, I'm sure that the techniques I used to
awaken that part of your talent worked -- you should be able to both
project yourself into the astral plane and alter your senses so that you
are percieving astral space *without* projecting."

	"But I --"

	"It's very simple.  When you want to percieve the astral, just
close your eyes, and think about it.  The same for projection."

	"Okay," Nene replied, still not too sure of herself.  "When do we
start?"

	A low rumble shook the air, and there was the unmistakable sound
of metal fragmenting.

	"Now."  He began walking, as if against the wind, towards the
green-hued door.  It took him nearly a minute to cross the distance, which
could not have been more than a few feet.  Nene followed, and understood
exactly why it was so hard ... the pressure was immense.

	In the kitchen of the restaraunt, against one of the walls, there
was a circle of intense, sickly green light streaming from a circular
crack.  Around the circle were five symbols, each carved into a hexagonal
piece of a ceramic-like substance.

	Aethan stepped up to it.  "In 1996, a circle of five magic workers
-- though not all of them considered what they did to be "magic" -- set
this seal," he said quietly.  "The seals set by those who are still alive
will be hard to remove ..."

	He looked at one, inscribed with a pair of kanji that Nene
couldn't make out in the dim light.  "Kyosuke's seal," he murmured, and
reached out to grasp it.

	It crumbled into dust at his touch.

	He stared at the empty space for a second, and then sighed.
"Cologne's seal," he murmured, reaching towards another seal that was
inscribed with something that looked like a cross between Chinese
characters and ancient Greek letters.  It came away in his hand, sizzling
as it did.  Aethan's face twisted in pain.  "I suppose ... it was too much
to hope ... that *she* was rotting in whatever hell is reserved for ...
oh, never mind," he finally sighed, and crushed the ceramic.

	Aethan seemed to be making some kind of hard choice between two of
the three remaining seals, which were on either side of the bottom of the
top of the circle.  Finally, he shook his head, murmured "Forgive me,
Verdandi," and grasped one of them, inscribed in some utterly foreign
alphabet.

	It disintegrated, and Aethan's jaw dropped.  For a moment, he
looked like he was about to cry.  Then, he shook his head, and turned to
the fourth seal.  "Tsunami's seal," he whispered, and grasped it.  He held
it for a second, before crushing it.  There was a pulse of blue light as
he did so.

	And then there was only one seal left, at the highest point of the
circle.  A seal inscribed with a rune.  "My seal," he murmured.  "Nene,
now is a good time to start scanning for astral presences."

	Nene nodded, then once again realized that he wasn't looking at
her, flushed, and closed her eyes.  <I want to look at the astral,> she
thought.  She opened her eyes.

	She was still looking at the physical universe.

	"Uh, Aethan?"

	"Is there an intruder?"

	"No, but ..."

	"Then please do not interrupt."

	From the folds of his trenchcoat, he produced a katana.  On its
blade were inscribed strange characters that seemed to glitter fiercely in
the green light.

	Nene closed her eyes again.  <Astral.  I'd like to see the astral,
please.  Now.>  She opened her eyes.  Still the physical.

	"Um, Aethan, I've got a ..."

	"Not now, Nene."

	"But --!"

	"Not NOW!"  He swiftly stretched his arm towards the top seal,
clutching it.

	"AETHAN!  I CAN'T SEE THE ASTRAL!"

	The seal came off in his hand as he whirled around to stare at her
with a horrified expression.  "YOU WHAT?"

	Suddenly, the green light flashed with the power of a thousand
suns.  Nene shrieked as the visual receptors of the hardsuit's HUD shorted
out with a pyrotechnic display, and closed her eyes.

	There was a horrible roaring noise.

	Nene opened her eyes, and realized that she was on the astral.

	She was standing in a deserted wasted landscape.  It stretched
from horizon to horizon.  Nene checked herself and determined that she was
in the same form as during her previous voyage -- except that the parts of
her "costume" that resembled her hardsuit seemed more ... substantial.

	The roaring noise came again, and Nene looked up.

	A figure, clad in shining plate armour, was standing in front of a
circle of hideous green light, with his glowing sword at ready.  The exact
features of the sword seemed unfixed -- it flashed from a broadsword to a
claymore to an epee to a katana to a ....

	... a sabre.

	Slowly the figure twisted around, until the visor of the helmet
was visible.  From the eyeslits shone a cool, green light that was
everything that the light from the portal was not.  The figure raised his
sabre in a salute to Nene, and turned back to the gate.

	/AETHAN?/ she cried aloud.

	And then the dragon came through, and the fight began.

				To Be Continued

Authors Notes

	The characters and world of Bubblegum Crisis were created by
Kenichi Sonoda, Toshimichi Suzuki, and others, and brought to North 
America by AnimEigo.  Aethan DeGales was created by Chris Davies.  The
preceding story, while incorporating aspects of motion pictures held
under copyright by others, is copyright 1996 by Chris Davies.

	Nobody Sue Me Okay?

Chris Davies, Advocate for Darkness, Part-Time Champion of Light.
"I am not a very nice person anymore." - Rand al'Thor, "Crown of Swords"
http://www.ualberta.ca/~cdavies/hmpage.html