Bubblegum Crisis
Best of All the Years II
Episode 3
(To review:
(Priss Asagiri has come, through difficulties, to live in Crystal
Tokyo, in the thirtieth century, as related in "Best of All The Years" and
"Together Again: 2937 Chapter". She has found a way to make a home
there, and she is not alone, having rescued Sylia Stingray from her
apparent death in the destruction of Genom tower. Priss had discovered
that Sylia had been in love with her, and begun to realize that she felt
the same. Whatever happened, they were together again.)
(Unfortunately, that was just the beginning of new trials for both of
them. Priss was confronted with the fact that Sylia's biological and
cybernetic modifications meant that she might not be viewed as human in
Crystal Tokyo, while Sylia was horrified to learn that her journal had
been published, revealing much of her life that she wanted to keep
private. Unfortunately, Priss chose to deceive Sylia by claiming to be a
clone of the original Priss, as her memories of the years between 2033 and
2041 were still indistinct. Furiously, Sylia attacked and rejected Priss,
leaving them both uncertain as to their future. Sylia's later discovery
of the truth of Priss' lie worsened her mental condition, but she was
pulled back from the brink of suicide by the Black Knight Sabre -- the
same mysterious figure who had, unbeknownst to Sylia, saved both her and
Priss in Genom Tower.)
SYLIA
Do you know what it is to doubt your own senses?
I never had, before this. If I doubted everything else, I never had
cause to doubt the information which my eyes and ears gave me. Sometimes
my senses did not provide enough information to make accurate deductions,
but I had never before this moment seen anything which caused me to doubt
that I could be seeing what I was seeing.
I stumbled out of the restroom, and drew a deep breath.
"Ms. Stingray?"
I looked up. It appeared to be the woman called Lady Mars, and she
seemed to be standing a few meters away, looking at me with an expression
of what I believe could be called ... concern.
"Are you all right?" I think she asked.
"Yes," I lied. And then my legs gave out from under me and I
collapsed. At least, I thought that was going to collapse, but I was
interrupted halfway to the ground. Mars was holding me by the arms, her
face now more shocked than concerned.
"If this is your `all right', I'd hate to see your idea of `on the
verge of death'," she said, probably not meaning for it to be as much of a
snap as it was.
"I'm sorry," I replied. "I have ruined my life beyond all hope of
recovery, and been told that I still have to go on living. It is causing
me some distress." Lying hadn't driven her away, so I decided to try
telling the unvarnished truth.
She blinked. "Told by who?"
I opened my mouth to tell her, and found that I couldn't. Ah well.
Perhaps silence would suffice where truth and lies had not.
She stared at me, and slowly nodded. "Okay, you don't have to tell
me. But ... I really don't think that your life is *ruined* --"
"And what would you know about it?" I snapped, counterfeiting anger.
It's such an easy emotion to imitate.
Mars didn't seem to respond to my barb, instead spending a long moment
gazing at my face. She smiled sadly, and shook her head. "You remind me
of her, you really do. The frightening thing is, she wasn't half as smart
as you're supposed to be."
Involuntarily, I asked, "Who do I --"
"Friend of mine. Her name was Serena. She died ... a long time ago."
There was ancient pain on her face. "Any time anything went wrong, she
was always the first one to blame herself. Oh, when it was obvious that
it wasn't really her fault, she didn't *blame* herself for what had
happened ... but she always found a way that she could have been stronger
or better or more equal to the challenge ..."
Mars tightened her grip on my arms, and slowly pulled us out from the
half-crouch we'd been in since I had begun to collapse.
"... and maybe that was my fault," she said at last. "You see, I was
the one who kept pushing her ... to be all that she could be. There were
others, of course, but ... I think I was the one who did it the most."
"Why are you telling me this?" I asked. I didn't want to know about
this woman's lost loves, I was having enough problems with my own.
"Because like I said, you remind me of her." And then her tone
hardened. "And no matter how much I think that it was my fault that she
started to blame herself for everything, when I *started* pushing her, she
was always ready to throw in the towel before the game had even started.
Just like you are --"
"I --" I interrupted.
Mars interrupted my interruption. "You're going into battle without
any expectation of victory. And frankly, when the stakes are this high,
that's something no soldier can afford."
"Pardon me, but I believed we were talking about matters of the
heart," I slowly grated out. I dislike being interrupted.
"Love is a battlefield," she said, smiling.
I looked away, irritated. "Of course. I would have to arrive in a
world where everyone is as obsessed with eighties rock as Pr-- as certain
people are."
Mars sighed. "Look ... Ms. Stingray, it's pretty clear to me that
you've put a lot of effort into your loosely termed 'relationship' with
Priss, *and*," she said, interrupting my mouth opening, "more than would
be required to have a good working relationship with an agent-slash-pawn.
Unless you'd like to try convincing me that you know the preferred musical
styles of the other two?"
"Nene enjoyed technopop, Linna preferred whatever Vision was recording
at the time," I said, guessing.
"Try Gregorian chant, in Nene's case."
I turned to look at her. She was, not surprisingly, smiling faintly.
"At least, according to Jupiter," she added. The smile went away. "Ms.
Stingray ... I'm begging you. As her friend. Go back to her."
"I ..." Cannot? <Liar.> Should not? <Perhaps.> Ought not to?
<Perhaps.> Fear to? <True.> Do not want to? <Liar.>
"Do not deserve to? True," I murmured. It is the only time I can
recall ever having spoken without realizing it.
"False," Mars snapped. "Look, I'm revising my opinion of you. You
remind me of Serena, but you sure as hell remind me of *Priss*, too.
Neither one of you wants to forgive yourself for *anything*!"
And with her words, the truth of the problem became readily apparent.
I could almost have wept with the release of the strain of not knowing,
except that knowing didn't make the solution any closer, as far as I could
see. "I don't know how."
She stopped. "You don't know how to forgive yourself?"
I shook my head. "I don't know how ... to forgive."
I could ignore what they did. I could wait patiently to make them
pay -- whether in humiliation or in blood would depend on the occasion.
But I had never even thought of forgiving my dearest friends in all the
world for their occasional lapses.
An angel of vengeance cannot ever forgive.
But I ...
A thought experiment.
`You will avenge my death by (1) killing the one who personally killed
me, and (2) bringing about the destruction or downfall of the ones behind
him,' is a finite mission statement. An non-volitional unit -- for lack
of a better term, a robot, one lacking the minimal self-awareness of
Genom's stupidest boomers -- having completed the aforementioned mission,
would in all probability be expected to self-destruct, or at minimum shut
down and await reprogramming.
I possess no instructions which suggest that I should do either.
It follows, then, that I am not a robot. Which suggests that, having
completed the aforementioned mission statement, I should be able to
determine what my *next* mission should be, if I have not received orders
to the contrary.
I have received no orders to the contrary.
... I ought to be more than an angel of vengeance.
The second in which I worked all of this out passed, and I realized
that Mars was staring at me. "I ... need to learn how to forgive," I said
at last. It was an inane statement.
She didn't laugh. Instead, she slowly nodded. "Yeah. That can be a
hell of a thing to learn." Mars paused, and then there was a flash of
insight in her eye. "I know a place, though ... a good place to learn
pretty much anything."
"Please tell me more," I said. I don't think she realized that I was
begging, pathetically.
PRISS
Ryouko Mizuno made a really satisfying crunching noise when she
slammed into the ground. I couldn't really pay too much attention with
it, since I was kinda focused on pulling out of the dive in time without
passing out. Aerial combat in the Mark 11 hardsuit wasn't as easy as I'd
thought it would be.
I pulled it off, and circled around her -- not unlike a vulture -- for
a few minutes, before she finally rolled up into a seated position.
"I concede defeat," she said after another minute to get her bearings.
"No shit?" I asked, more than a little startled.
"I believe that the terms of our duel were, to the knock out," she
said, not looking up at me. "I *did* lost consciousness, ergo, I am the
vanquished. Honor has been satisfied."
As I came in for a landing -- which for my money is probably the
hardest part of this flight mode thing -- I lifted the visor of my suit.
"So, this is it? No shouts of protest that I cheated, and I shouldn't be
expecting more challenges to set things right?"
"Neither from myself, nor from any member of my unit," Mizuno said,
wearily getting to her feet. "Should anyone bearing a `Mizuno's Madmen'
unit insignia give you any trouble, please do not hesitate to inform me."
Y'know, I have never been able to figure out why people figured that
I've turned into a squealer, just because I'm not a punk anymore. If any
of her boys tried to start something with me, I'd kick their asses all the
way back to base, but I'm damned if I'm gonna rat people out.
She was staring up at the holographically created sky of the training
ground where we'd had our little tete-a-tete, a finger tracing the path of
the air battle. She finally nodded once. "Yes, I think I see where I
went wrong. Despite my knowledge that your suit operates on radically
different principles of flight than my own does, I still instinctively
tried to stay out of close combat range -- since contragravity fields
interfere destructively with one another, mid-air close combat between
CG-equipped battlesuits is akin to suicide."
"Right," I said. I hadn't known that, but since she was trying to
keep as much distance between us as possible, I figured there must be
*some* reason for her to avoid melee.
"You closed with me, grappled, and then ... deactivated your flight
mode. The extra weight was more than my CG equipment could handle, and so
it shorted out before I could adjust it. We fell, and you managed to pull
out while I didn't." Mizuno nodded again. "Excellent tactics. Lady Mars
was quite correct to decline permission to intercept you, earlier -- a
fall from that altitude would probably have killed me."
She nodded, once, and tapped on the wrist of her battlesuit -- which
looked about as substantial as an old softsuit -- causing the deflector
field to deactivate. The blue face protector vanished, and she pulled the
mesh helmet back off of her head. "A good fight. I learned a great deal.
Thank you, Ms. Asagiri,"
I shrugged. Why not? "Call me Priss,"
"No," she replied. "If you'll excuse me, I think I shall go and seek
medical aid."
And that was that. As she headed off, I popped the suit's seals, got
out of it, and got dressed. It was then that I started to wonder what the
hell I was supposed to do with it -- the suit, I mean -- now that I had
it. I couldn't see putting it in the closet of my apartment; even if I
did trust the neighbors not to run off with it, how was it supposed to
recharge?
I heard a footstep, and looked towards the entrance. Raye was standing
there, smiling faintly. "I'm given to understand that you gave one of my
marines a lesson she won't forget soon."
I didn't see what the big deal was, so I just shrugged. "Someone told
me that she'd probably wind up being on my ass for screwing around with the
fair maidens of the realm, so I figured I might as well get it over with.
It's weird, though ... I figured she'd be more pissed off when I kicked her
ass than she was."
Raye frowned, slightly. "Don't believe everything Sheila tells you,
okay? She has a grudge against Ryouko *almost* as big as Ryouko's grudge
against her, so I wouldn't believe anything Sheila said about her without
independent verification."
"So she's not so homophobic that she keeps her eyes closed in public
baths so no one can accuse her of peeping?" I asked, quoting something
Sheila'd said to me earlier.
"I don't know anything about that," Raye replied, shaking her head.
"But I do know that I've never seen her act like that with anyone *except*
with Sheila. And before you ask, yes, I *do* know what that might mean,
and no, I don't think so. And besides, it's none of my business."
I grunted my understanding, and jerked a thumb back towards my suit.
"So what am I supposed to do with this thing now?"
She looked at the suit for a moment, rubbing her chin. "Well ... as a
Palladin of the Realm, you're entitled to store a few `tools of the trade'
in the Palace or in any military base *in* the Realm, and I think it
wouldn't be too hard to scare up a recharging unit. Sound okay?"
"Sure."
She turned back to look at me. "Soooo ... got any plans for this
evening?"
Okay. Before anyone says *anything*, I *know* I should have seen it
coming from a thousand miles away. But I didn't. The idea strangely
did not occur to me that she would set me up immediately after stating
that someone *else's* love life was none of her business. You wanna yell
at me for not being paranoid enough, go right ahead. *Sylia's* the one
who's supposed to be paranoid, not me.
"Not really, no."
"I've got some stuff to do around here, but afterwards, what would you
say to a few drinks at the usual place?"
"`Yo drinks'," I said, smiling.
She nodded. "Right. Meet you there in about an hour?"
"Sure thing."
I should probably pause and bring some people up to speed. When I got
out of the hospital after I helped Raye break up a bunch of terrorists, I
wound up going out for drinks with her. We talked quite a bit, about
quite a few things -- like why my eyes are `a shade of lavender so
brilliant that in her angry moments they almost seemed to be on fire,' to
quote Leon's autobiography. (Who knew he was a hack in addition to
everything else?) That was when she also made the proposal that I come
work for her, destruct-testing battlesuits.
What I probably didn't mention was just where we'd gotten these drinks.
Well, there's this little public house just outside Crystal Tokyo's city
limits. No, I'm not gonna tell you exactly where, I'd like to be able to
drink without hordes of fanboys watching my every move. Suffice it to say,
if you need to find it, you probably will.
I dunno how quite to describe the place -- it just feels good. I mean,
most of the times that I went drinking in my `youth', I was trying to just
blot everything out. Social drinking was something which never really
clicked with me, even when I was with the Sabres. But here ... I was
laughing at people's jokes, telling my own ... empathizing, I guess.
They got me to sing karaoke. I *never* sing karaoke. That should tell
you something about the atmosphere in Flannery's Place.
Anyway, I said seeya to Raye, and headed out on my hovercycle, out
along the coastal road. (No, it doesn't necessarily lead to Flannery's,
but I like riding along it.) I finally got to the mildly chaotic parking
lot around fifty minutes later. It was a little after six, so it wasn't
really crowded, but there's no real parking protocol in this particular
joint's lot -- you just find a place large enough for your vehicle, and cut
the CG. I noticed Raye's bike in among the mess while scanning for my
space, and figured that she'd gotten her work done early.
So I went in and Sylia was at the bar.
It was that quick. I mean, I didn't even notice that Raye *wasn't*
there, Sylia's presence grabbed hold of my eyes, fixed them to one
particular spot, and said, `Don't move or say anything or do anything, you
clueless wench.'
"So, every drink, regardless of contents, is four credits, paid in four
one-credit coins, placed in that cigar box? On the honor system?" she was
asking Tom Flannery, the chief bartender, as I began to stare gapingly at
her back.
"Basically, yes," Tom agreed. "Although I'd prefer to refer to it as
the self-respect system, frankly. And it's really only three credits,
unless you'd care to exercise the option. Declining the option means that
you can take a credcoin back from the box."
"The option," Sylia said, and in her voice I could hear the small, just
slightly sarcastic smile on her face. "Let me guess, the option to make a
toast and throw the glass in the fireplace?"
"Good guess," Tom said, smiling right back at her. "The toast part is
right, but throwing the glass is optional. The fact that we can't
guarantee that we get all the glass swept up tends to annoy the recycling
squad."
Sylia shook her head. "It is, I suppose, a relief, that the greats of
science fiction are still remembered ..."
"Oh, you mean Spider? Yeah, he was a good kid."
She was very silent for another moment, and then nodded. "Let me
guess, were I to ask you to explain that comment, I would be set upon by
the moderately unattractive piano player who is even now standing behind me
with a blackjack in hand."
She was about a third right. No one in their right mind would call
Rachel unattractive -- she's gorgeous for a woman in her early fifties --
and I've never seen her play the piano. Actually, Flannery's doesn't have
a piano. But she *was* standing behind Sylia, blackjack resting in her
right hand. And I was standing a few feet closer, wondering what the hell
I ought to do, since there was no way in hell I was going to let Rachel hit
her, and there was no way in hell I was going to be able to *stop* Rachel
from hitting her, since I'd seen Rachel take down a couple of self-
described martial arts masters in the handful of times that I'd been to
Flannery's thus far.
As was so common, Flannery defused the situation by saying, "It's okay,
Rachel, not a prying question." Rachel nodded, and stepped back. I
breathed a little easier. Not much though.
"You see, I died in 1973, of what scientists were just starting to
identify as complications arising from a certain immunodeficiency syndrome.
While I was in the terminal stages, I *did* meet Spider Robinson, when he
was just starting out as a professional writer, and I think that he based a
character in his stories on me. Or possibly on a gestalt of me and several
other people he knew who died of the plague. Anyway, I was fairly lucky in
that I managed to arrange for my body to be put in cryogenic storage after
I died, so that I could be brought back if anyone ever found a cure.
Unfortunately, they found a cure for AIDS long before they found a cure for
being flash-frozen, and with all the kerfuffle that went on in the next
century, I wound up not being brought out until about twenty years ago."
Sylia had been nodding as she listened to Tom's story. "I remember
reading about quite a few cryogenics scandals in the early twenties," she
said when he was done. "`Now that we've got a treatment for leukemia, how
do we cure death?' was one headline."
"Oh, so you're disentimed too?" And then he decided to notice me.
"Regular meeting ground for them tonight. Hey, Priss, how's it going?"
A few thousand years elapsed as Sylia turned to look at me.
A few *million* passed while we stared at each other.
I honestly don't know what I'd hoped to see in her eyes if we ever met
again. Reget, apology ... forgiveness, maybe. But the look of mortal
terror in those eyes was almost more than I could take.
"Hello ... Priss," she said eventually. I nodded, very stiffly, in
response.
"Do you two know each other?" Tom asked, only semi-facetiously.
"I'd say that's a yes, Tom," the talking cat sitting in a basket on the
bar replied, hyper-sarcastically. Yes, a talking cat. His name's
Caldicott. I don't know how he learned to talk, and right then I didn't
really care. I was too busy compounding the mistake I'd made getting out
of bed that morning by slowly walking up to the bar and sitting down on the
stool right beside Sylia. We both stared forward. Eyes unblinking, and
definitely unturning.
Tom looked from one of us to the other, before finally nodding and
murmuring something that sounded vaguely Gaelic that I didn't catch. "So,
what'll it be, tonight?"
"Scumble," I said.
"I'll need your driver's license, your health care card, and the name
and phone number of your next of kin," Tom said calmly.
With hands that did not shake very much, I produced both cards and
another with Raye's home phone number on it, and presented them to Tom.
"Okay, just a moment," he said, and picked up the phone.
"Pardon me, Master," Sylia said quite suddenly, using the traditional
form of address, "but is that a karaoke machine, over there?"
"Yep," Tom replied, as he dialed. "No charge, since it's `Sing-along
Night'."
Sylia pushed herself off her seat, and slowly walked towards the
machine. My head unwillingly jerked around to follow her. I watched as
she examined the selection, and nodded to herself. She spoke into the
surprisingly quiet mike. "I don't sing very often," she said. "I don't
have the voice for it. But ... it was suggested that song can convey that
which words cannot. Let's test that theory, shall we?"
She tapped in a code, and music began to play. Quiet, elegant piano
notes under the sound of wind, leading up to a crash of sound.
And then she lifted her voice, and it was the most beautiful thing I'd
ever heard.
There were nights when the wind was so cold
That my body froze in bed
If I just listened to it
Right outside the window
There were days when the sun was so cruel
That all the tears turned to dust
And I just knew my eyes were
Drying up forever
I finished crying in the instant that you left
And I can't remember where or when or how
And I banished every memory you and I had ever made
There was a sudden change from the sharp agony of the last line to a
gentle whispered caress.
But when you touch me like this
And you hold me like that
I just have to admit
That it's all coming back to me
When I touch you like this
And I hold you like that
It's so hard to believe but
It's all coming back to me
The back-up function of the machine had sampled enough of her voice to
make the back-up voices of the soundtrack blend with her own.
(It's all coming back, it's all coming back to me now)
There were moments of gold
And there were flashes of light
There were things I'd never do again
But then they'd always seemed right
There were nights of endless pleasure
It was more than any laws allow
A cry from the gut.
Baby Baby
If I kiss you like this
And if you whisper like that
It was lost long ago
But it's all coming back to me
If you want me like this
The castanets counterpointed her voice *perfectly*.
And if you need me like that
It was dead long ago
But it's all coming back to me
It's so hard to resist
And it's all coming back to me
I can barely recall
But it's all coming back to me now
Her voice was almost a banshee's wail.
But it's all coming back ...
And then something very strange happened in the second verse. Her voice
changed. She didn't sound like *Sylia* anymore. Her voice had a younger,
almost rasping quality that I was couldn't for the life of me identify.
There were those empty threats and hollow lies
And whenever you tried to hurt me
I just hurt you even worse
And so much deeper
There were hours that just went on for days
When alone at last we'd count up all the chances
That were lost to us forever
But you were history with the slamming of the door
And I made myself so strong again somehow
And with that, I knew who she had become for this verse.
And I never wasted any of my time on you since then
I don't think that I could ever have sounded as gentle as the next lines
did, though.
But if I touch you like this
And if you kiss me like that
It was so long ago
But it's all coming back to me
If you touch me like this
And if I kiss you like that
It was gone with the wind
But it's all coming back to me
For only a moment, I thought one of the backup voices *was* my voice.
(It's all coming back, it's all coming back to me now)
There were moments of gold
And there were flashes of light
There were things we'd never do again
But then they'd always seemed right
There were nights of endless pleasure
It was more than all my laws allow
Baby, Baby, Baby
When you touch me like this
And when you hold me like that
It was gone with the wind
But it's all coming back to me
When you see me like this
And when I see you like that
Then we see what we want to see
All coming back to me
The flesh and the fantasies
All coming back to me
I can barely recall
But it's all coming back to me now
And then her voice softened to little more than a whisper. There was
hesitation and confusion and o so much misunderstanding in that first word.
If... you forgive me all this
And I forgive you all that
We forgive and forget
And it's all coming back to me
When you see me like this
And when I see you like that
And she *was* looking at me, and her eyes were running.
We see just what we want to see
All coming back to me
The flesh and the fantasies
All coming back to me
I can barely recall but it's all coming back to me now
(It's all coming back to me now)
And when you kiss me like this
(It's all coming back to me now)
And when I touch you like that
(It's all coming back to me now)
If you do it like this
(It's all coming back to me now)
And if we ...
And her eyes closed, and she let out a single gasp of breath over the
harmonizing coo of the background.
There was scattered applause from the other patrons.
Tom tapped on my shoulder. "Um, sorry, Priss, but Raye specifically
said that I wasn't to let you have any scumble. Could I interest you in
some Saurian brandy?"
"No," I said, amazed that I still had a voice. "I think I'm going home
now."
Shakily, I arose from my seat, and walked over to where she was
standing, her head still bowed as if in exhaustion. She looked up as I
drew closer. There was still fear in her eyes, but it wasn't as crippling
for either of us as it had been.
"Sylia," I said her name for the first time in weeks, "do you ... want
to go with me?"
She tried to say something, and then settled for a nod. I restrained
myself from nodding in response, and turned to the look at the others.
"Um, bye," I said.
"Bye," the regulars said. Some of the smart alecks waved.
Outside, I wasn't too surprised to see her get on Raye's cycle. "A
loaner?" I asked, trying desperately to interject some lightness into the
atmosphere.
"Yes," she replied quietly. "Your friend is ... a good teacher."
I didn't have a clue how I was supposed to reply to that, so I gestured
for her to follow me out of the lot.
SYLIA
We rode together in the moonlight. The sun had set soon after I had
arrived at the bar, and it seemed that a considerable amount of time had
passed since then. The moon was full, and impossibly large.
Impossibly.
<I should not think along those lines,> I told myself. <I must accept
that this is real. This has to be real for me.>
Down a strip of coastal highway we rode. I blinked, and realized that
we must be on the descendant of the road that had led past Genom's main
boomer development lab, in the twenty-first century. There was nothing
there, now. Just miles of unspoiled -- or perhaps healed -- seafront.
<Not only must I accept this,> I told myself, <I want to accept it. I
*want* this to be real.>
I followed her hand signals as she led me back into the city proper. At
last, we came to an old, slightly decrepit-seeming apartment complex. I
stared as I recognized that this was the place where Linna had lived with
her grandparents, shortly after her parents had died. I recognized it
from photographs she'd shown us one Christmas. It was either the original,
or a remarkable reproduction. For a moment, my belief wavered, but then I
focused on Priss and forced myself to believe.
She noticed that I was gazing intently at her, and turned to shrug, a
nervous smile on her face. "Humble yet mine own," she said as we walked
into the foyer. "The neighbors are probably all out boozing, so we should
be okay --"
There was the sound of a creaking stair, and with an annoyed expression,
Priss turned to look towards a staircase. "Yes," she said loudly, "I've
brought someone home, and if you think I'm gonna let you hold a party in my
room, you're --"
A woman stepped into view. She had the most vibrant red hair I'd ever
seen, and was dressed in a blue sundress. Her face was still and shocked.
Priss knew her, obviously, and just as obviously she had not expected to
see her under these conditions.
"I ...I heard," the woman said quietly, "that you had a fight with
Ryouko, and so I came to see if you were all right, and to see if I could
apolo--" She broke off, and closed her eyes. When they opened, any hint
of weakness was gone. "Never mind," she almost snarled, and stormed past
both of us before Priss could say a word. The door slammed behind her.
"Friend of yours?" I asked, trying desperately to bring a little light
to our atmosphere.
"Yeah," Priss replied. "It's a long story."
As I didn't have the slightest idea what I should say to that, I
followed her up the stairs to her room. It had the same general feel to it
that her trailer home, and later the condominium she'd bought in 2034, had
had; very little conscious attempt to maintain order, but everything that
was important was available at once.
She slid off her jacket. "Um ... I'd say have a seat, but I don't have
any furniture, so ..."
Our eyes met.
She took a breath. "I lied. I'm not a clone. I'm --"
"I know," I interrupted. "Mars mentioned it. It --"
"But I still don't remember anything after 2033," she continued. "I
don't know why, and that's why I lied. I was scared that you wouldn't
believe me, and I'm --"
"I realized that something like that was probably the case. I should
not have been so suspicious. It --"
"Would you *please* let me apologize?" she snapped.
"No," I replied. "I can't, since I have more to apologize to you than
you do to me. I have --"
"You what? Sylia, you just got dragged out of a hell on Earth! I don't
expect you to be all flowers and milk of human kindness!"
"*I* expect me to at the very least be *rational* in my dealings with
the woman with whom I'm in love!" I yelled.
"And I expect me to at least be able to say that I love you, and I
haven't done it even once, so so far we're equal!" she yelled right back.
And then we both took a deep breath, and realized just what we'd both
said. There it was, out of the proverbial closet. I was in love with her,
and she loved me right back.
Why then did I start crying?
PRISS
As she broke down in front of me, I grabbed ahold of her and wrapped her
up in my arms. She babbled tearfully, and I babbled soothingly, and
somehow we wound up on the floor, holding onto each other like drowning
people.
"I don't *know* why it's so hard for you to show it," I found myself
saying at one point. "Why's it so hard for me to say it? The point is, I
knew ... I *knew* that you cared about me, even back then. You think I
didn't notice that you smiled when you said you were only coming along with
me after Mason to `preserve the Knight Sabres' organization?"
"I smiled?" she asked.
"As much as you usually did." She'd stopped crying, at least.
She shook her head, wearily. "We wasted nearly a decade ... because I
heard you singing a song that wasn't even about me ..."
"No," I interrupted. "We didn't waste anything. Maybe, if you'd told
me how you felt then, I'd have told you to shove off -- because I wasn't
ready to have anyone in my heart. You see? Maybe we needed that time to
... to grow up? I dunno."
And then the suspicion center of my brain went haywire.
When had I told her that the song wasn't about her?
As soon as the thought registered in my brain, she must have felt me
tense. She took a breath. "... I was ... advised of that by someone who
wants to see us ... together."
I felt myself ease. "Raye," I muttered.
"Who?"
Right, she probably wouldn't know her real name. "Lady Mars," I said.
"No," she whispered.
I felt myself tense again. <Right. I haven't told Raye the specifics,
either. The only person I've told is Sheila, and ...> "So who?"
Sylia opened her mouth to say something, but she gave a fairly good
impression of a woman who couldn't say what she wanted. She finally
sighed. "The Black Knight Sabre," she muttered.
I swallowed. "So you've seen her face, too?"
Yeah, I know. I didn't say that I'd seen her face, earlier. But I did
say that Raye wasn't happy with what I was telling her, didn't I? So maybe
you could have guessed that she figured there was more than I was letting
on.
She raised her hand to salute.
Now, this may come as a surprise to you, but if you lift your hand to
salute and you're wearing a hardsuit, you can lift the visor pretty easily.
And she did.
"You said ... that she was ..." Sylia said slowly.
"Yes," I replied. "I'm pretty certain that she was."
"Then we've been brought together by a ghost," she said wearily. "I
hate magic."
"Yeah," I sighed. "So now what?"
Sylia shook her head. "I imagine ... that we start building a life
together, since all the powers of the netherworld seem to be bent on making
us do that."
"Do you wanna fight them?"
She blinked, and stared at me. "What?"
"Do you want to fight them?" I asked her earnestly. "Because if you
want to fight to keep us apart, or to ensure that *we* make the choice, not
some spirit, I'll guard your back."
She stared at me, and for the first time, she lifted a hand to touch my
face. "You mean that," she said quietly. "You'd fight ... for my right to
be miserable, even though I'm being given a chance at happiness on a golden
platter?"
"Of course!" I snapped. "Dammit, haven't I *shown* that I'll --"
Our second kiss was a hell of a lot better than our first, which is
saying something. For a while, we just lay there, holding each other.
Eventually, though, the floor started to get a little uncomfortable,
so we got up and went to bed.
No, I'm not going to tell you all about it, because there's nothing to
tell. Sylia was ... very inexperienced, and I wasn't about to start
pushing her into anything.
So we just slept. And you know, I really do think that's the one thing
most couples really should do before they get married -- find out if you
can *sleep* together in the same bed.
And yeah, we could. Best sleep I'd had in ages.
SYLIA
I didn't dream.
When I awoke the next day, a bit before Priss did, I couldn't bring
myself to move. I just lay there, wrapped in the covers and in her.
I decided then that what I was experiencing *was* real.
Does that seem strange to you? Perhaps it is. I had lost faith in my
senses because I had seen something which I knew to be impossible; and the
logic of my regaining that faith because I witnessed something which I had
believed was impossible -- Priss, sleeping peacefully in my arms -- escaped
me.
Now, at a certain remove, I think I understand. I was beginning to
accept the miracle that surrounded me. Since what had been impossible was
now real, if I witnessed something which seemed impossible, I would have to
investigate further -- but there was no need for me to doubt my senses.
In the next few minutes after I came to terms with reality, I made more
decisions than I had made in the entirety of the last week.
"Good morning," she whispered as I was embarked on this.
"Do you have Mars' phone number?" I asked her absently.
"Uh ... yeah," she said, blinking.
As I disentangled myself from her and sat up, I made a mental note to
apologize for my brusqueness later. But there was work to be done. "I
need to contact her, so that I can set up an appointment with the board
which examined me, earlier."
Priss stared at me for a moment. "Uh huh," she said, slowly. "Sounds
like you've made some plans."
I smiled faintly.
"Wanna let me in on them? I'm *assuming* that they involve me?"
The smile died, and I felt panic begin to develop in my heart. "Priss,
I ..."
She lay back and looked up at the ceiling. "I always hated that,
y'know? You come up with these great ideas, give us about half of what we
need to know, and let us loose. Then, while we're scrambling around with
egg on our faces --"
"It's not that sort of plan!" I cried. "I've just decided what I have
to do in order to make a life here with --" And then I realized the utter
lack of logic in that statement. <To make a life here with you.> As
though I were still the only one in charge.
I collapsed beside her, and tried not to flinch when she avoided
personal contact. "We're not there yet, are we?" I asked, wearily, staring
up at the ceiling.
"I guess not," Priss said softly.
And then she rolled over, and smiled at me. "But you figured out how
you were fucking up without my having to tell you, so *one* of us is
getting there. You just gotta slow down and let me catch up, okay?"
I had always believed that anyone who claimed that they were not sure
whether to laugh or to cry were merely engaging in hyperbole as to their
emotional state. Yet another theory done to death. I satisfied my own
urges by resting the top of my head beneath her chin, and shaking my head
even as I smiled.
"So what are you gonna do?" she asked me.
I told her. She approved, and actually gave me some information that
helped me improve my plan.
A few moments later, I was speaking with Mars; or rather, since she now
requested that I use her proper neame, with Raye. "First of all," I began,
"I'd like to know where and when to return your vehicle to you."
"Don't worry about it," she replied dismissively, over the cellular.
"I'll send someone to pick it up later today."
I was not at all inclined to deal so casually with the matter, but I
decided not to press the issue. "Very well. I would also appreciate it if
you could contact Lady Mercury and Lady Jupiter. I stated earlier that I
required some time to consider my options. I have done so, and am prepared
to discuss my plans for the future with the three of you."
There was a long silence. "Good," she said at last. "I'm glad to hear
it. Um ... I'll get back to you, after I speak with them."
"I look forward to hearing from you," I replied politely.
We waited patiently for a few minutes. I watched Priss fidget as we
did ... and then I couldn't help myself. I laughed, quietly.
"What's up?" she asked.
"Are you nervous?" I answered her question with another question.
"Not really. Anxious, I guess ... what's that got to --"
"I'm terribly nervous. But you'd never know it to look at me, would
you?" I shook my head. "We're complimentary angles, you and I."
Before she could reply to that, the phone rang. I picked it up, and
spoke briefly with Mars. The board was going to reconvene in a little
under an hour, at the hospital. I thanked her, and offered to park the
hovercycle in front of the hospital, so that she could pick it up herself.
She agreed quickly.
I dislike having people do me favors. Having someone else return
something which had been loaned to me counted as a favor.
A few minutes later, I had changed into the only set of formal clothes
that I owned, and the two of us were riding towards the hospital. Priss
insisted on accompanying me, and much of what I planned would work just as
well if she was there. In fact, from what she had explained about Lady
Jupiter's emnity towards her, some of it might work even better. The
enemy of my enemy is not always my friend -- but if my enemy believes that
her enemy is a greater threat, she can be easily distracted by her
presence.
A young man dressed in a page's costume met us at the door, and guided
us to the room in which I had met with the tribunal yesterday. Jupiter
seemed even angrier than she had been earlier, and her scowl deepened when
she saw that I was with Priss. Excellent.
I took my seat in front of them, while Priss stood off to one side. I
considered flashing her a smile to reassure her that all was working out,
but I elected to focus on the matter before me.
"Good morning, Ms. Stingray," Lady Mercury said politely. "I
understand that you've reached a decision?"
"Correct," I replied. "I have had time to ... reaquaint myself with
Ms. Asagiri, and from what she has told me, along with my own observations
about this place ... I have decided that I *do* wish to be a citizen of
the Realm of Crystal Tokyo."
Mercury smiled, as did Mars. "We're certainly glad to hear that --"
Mars began.
"However," I interrupted, "I feel obliged to make certain things
*very* clear to you. I no longer have any interest in or taste for mecha
design, nor do I intend to pursue a career in the pure sciences. If any
of you entertain ideas about using me as a resource, I strongly suggest
that you abandon them, *now*."
Mercury's smile faded. "Oh, really?" she asked, deceptively mild. It
was exceedingly clear to me that she was either offended by my bluntness
or shocked by my stated intentions. Possibly both. "Ms. Stingray, I
think that you should be aware that we expect all citizens of the Realm to
contribute to the Realm in some manner. If you do not intend to work as a
mecha engineer or as a scientist, might I ask what you *do* intend to do?"
I smiled. "I intend to become a private investigator."
As I had expected, Mercury's eyes darted towards Jupiter as I said
that. Priss had confirmed my deduction, based on what they had said to me
yesterday, that Jupiter was in charge of the law enforcement agencies of
the realm. Adding the traditional antipathy between freelance private
investigators and professional police officers to the dislike that Jupiter
already had for Priss and those whom she held close produced an even more
frightening expression of dislike on Jupiter's face. "Really?" was all
she said, however.
I warmed to my topic. "Yes. Even as a Knight Sabre, I had observed
that the part of our jobs which I, personally, enjoyed the most was the
gathering of information on which we based our strategies. I believe that
I may have been inspired in this by accounts of my mother's exploits, when
she was --"
"We are familiar with the career of Irene `Rally' Vincent, Ms.
Stingray," Jupiter interrupted. "Do you intend to be a detective or a
bounty hunter?"
"The two careers have a considerable amount in common," I noted. "I
can't see any reason that I might not combine elements of both. Can you,
Lady Jupiter?"
Her green eyes met mine. I began to get a sense of the anger that she
bore towards *me*, not just as Priss' lover, but as one whom she held
responsible for Nene's death.
I met her gaze firmly, and she looked away first.
"I cannot think of a reason," she said heavily, after a moment, "that
you cannot become a private investigator, should you demonstrate the
qualifications for a license to be one." She took a deep breath, and when
she spoke again, it was with renewed strength. "However, I will admit
that I don't see *why* you felt it necessary to make an announcement of it
to us."
"I believe that you implied that I should inform you of my decision
when we spoke yesterday," I replied. "Also, since I intend to begin
permanent partnership and cohabitation with Ms. Asagiri, and since she is
some sort of special operative for the realm, I felt that I should
reassure you that while I do not wish to work for Crystal Tokyo as she
does, all the same I hold no grudges against the realm."
For a moment, Jupiter stared at me, her mouth hanging open just a
small amount. I knew that she was wondering if she had heard that right
... and I didn't intend to let her know if she had or not.
"Well," Mercury said, seeming even more nervous than she had before.
"We certainly do wish you the best, Ms. Stingray, although I must say that
it does seem to be a waste to use such an intellect as yours for such a
purpose --"
I smiled at her. "I don't agree. I can't imagine a nobler purpose
than discovering things which certain people don't wish to be discovered."
Mars was staring at me without expression. I met her gaze with a
lifted eyebrow. After a moment, she shook her head, and smiled ruefully.
"Unless either of my colleagues have any questions, I think that we can
return to the issue of granting Ms. Stingray citizenship."
"I have one further question," I interjected. "I have certain
philosophical objections to monarchy -- does citizenship within the
Crystal Realm demand an oath of allegiance?"
"No," came a voice from behind me. "Citizens of the Realm are not
required to swear allegiance, only to accept responsibility."
I turned, and wondered when the woman standing there had entered. I
hadn't heard the door open. For a moment, I thought she seemed strangely
familiar, but I couldn't recall ever meeting a woman with golden hair done
up in two long pony-tails with large buns on either side of her head. I
wondered why Priss was staring with her mouth half-open.
"Ms. Stingray," the woman said, when her warm blue eyes met mine, "it
is an honor and a privelege to meet you at last."
"Thank you," I said reflexively. "And you are?"
"Uh, Sylia, this is --" Priss began.
"No one of any great importance at the moment," the woman interrupted.
"Lita, would you mind if I took your place in administering the
Declaration for Ms. Stingray?"
There came a sigh from Jupiter at that, and I looked back to see that
the auburn haired giantess had a look of utter defeat on her face. "No
... no, not at all."
"Oh, good." The woman smiled momentarily, and then became very
serious. She indicated that I should stand, and after a moment I did so.
"Ms. Stingray, have you had explained the rights and duties expected of a
citizen of the Realm?"
"I have," I replied.
She took a deep breath. "Then please repeat after me. I --"
"I, Sylia Rebecca Stingray --"
"-- do swear by --"
"-- do affirm --"
A corner of her mouth turned up. "-- that I shall exercise the rights
and fulfill the responsibilities of a citizen of the Crystal Realm of
Earth, while I live."
I repeated the words, and the woman smiled broadly. "And I, Serenity,
daughter of Serenity, accept your affirmation in the name of the One whose
Name is at the Heart of Time. Be welcome in the Crystal Realm, Sylia
Rebecca Stingray."
For a moment, I stared at her. "Serenity?" I asked. "Isn't that --"
"Her Royal Majesty?" Mars concluded, just slightly sarcastically.
"Yep."
Serenity smiled. "As I said to Ms. Asagiri some time ago ... welcome
to our world."
I looked past her, to lift an eyebrow at Priss. She shrugged in
response -- clearly she had no more idea than I did as to what I should do
than I did.
So I did the last thing that I ever expected to do. I stuck out my
hand, grinned, and said, "Thanks!" in a ridiculously cheery tone.
I wasn't expecting her to shake my hand. I think that I'll avoid
doing what I never expected to do in the future.
PRISS
And that was pretty much that.
The wedding? It was a small, fairly quiet affair -- Serenity nicely
asked the press not to make a big deal about the marriage of the last two
Knight Sabres, and they obliged her. Raye mentioned this to me, right
before the plans for the wedding started to get together, and hinted that
Serenity might appreciate it if she were given the chance to help with
the ceremony even more.
Having a goddess presiding over your wedding tends to lend an air of
permanence to those vows -- modified Christian ceremony, since neither of
us believe in anything, officially -- like nothing else in the world will.
Raye and Tom Flannery stood up for us during the ceremony. We
stumbled through, and nobody took the opportunity to attack any of us. I'm
given to understand that it went fairly smoothly for a wedding that sees
Serenity's involvement.
We kept our original names, with the understanding that any kids --
which could be conceived via normal, natural mucking about with test tubes
and DNA, or through a few magical methods they had on hand -- would have a
choice of which of our names they'd take.
And so we settled down in my apartment, and were together. And life
goes on.
My name is Priscilla Serena Asagiri. I live with my wife, Sylia
Rebecca Stingray, in Crystal Tokyo. I'm a test pilot. She's a private
investigator. We fight quite a bit, but we try to avoid going to bed
angry. She's learned quite a few ways to avoid doing that.
We don't live in a paradise. We don't live in an utopia. We don't
live in the best of all possible worlds.
We just live.
I think the best of all the years are the ones where you're with
someone you love, don't you?
EPILOGUE
The Black Knight Sabre watched as the newlyweds fell asleep in each
others arms. Behind her helmet, blue-green eyes glowed with remembered
warmth.
Then, without a sound, the avatar returned to the heavenly realm, to
reunite with her creator. She was already pushing the limits of what was
permitted to the divinities in this age of mankind.
Still, she would not be who she had once been if she didn't push the
rules just a bit. A tiny, almost invisible telepathic suggestion in their
minds.
When the being of whom the Black Knight Sabre was a part considered her
actions, a smile suffused its aura.
The being who had once been Nene Romanova approved whole-heartedly of
having their first child named after her.
THE END
Author's Notes
As always, I thank the patient and wise Jeanne Hedge for putting up
with all sorts of antics on my behalf on the road to producing this
necessary epilogue to a story that was finished over a year ago. I
likewise thank Sean Gaffney for his forebearance in not killing me while
this languished unfinished.
"It's All Coming Back to Me Now" was written by Jim Steinman, one of
the great bards of the twentieth century. Since I began the original
"Best of All the Years" with a pair of his songs, it seemed appropriate to
end the sequel with a third. This one was most recently recorded by Celine
Dion on her compilation, "Falling Into You". You might also be able to find
a recording of it by Pandora's Box.
"Bubblegum Crisis" was created by Toshimichi Suzuki and others, and
brought to North America by AnimEigo. "Sailor Moon" was created by Naoko
Takeuchi and brought to North America by DiC. "Callahan's Crosstime
Saloon" and a pair of denizens therof appearing herein ought to be real,
but were probably created by Spider Robinson. I have no idea who created
Caldicott C. Catt for "Puttnam's Prairie Emporium", but whoever it was was
really warped. This story, while incorporating characters from motion
pictures held under copyright by others, is copyright 1998 by Chris Davies.
Nobody Sue Me Okay?
Chris Davies, Advocate for Darkness, Part-Time Champion of Light.
"WHAT CAN THE HARVEST HOPE FOR, IF NOT FOR THE CARE OF THE REAPER MAN?"
-- Death, in "Reaper Man", by Terry Pratchett.
http://www.ualberta.ca/~cdavies/hmpage.html