Hah. And you all thought I was dead. ^_~

Truth is, I haven't written any new chapters for this behemoth of mine in a
while because I haven't had the time. University can be pretty rough,
especially with a lot of the courses I've been taking. I had time to plan,
but never time to actually write. 

Now it's finals week, and I found myself with a day or two free and -for the
first time in about a year- no projects or essays due. I present the results
below, so that you can determine whether I mix with free time "as well" or
"better than" baking soda and vinegar. ^_^

I would also like to take this opportunity to beg and plead for C&C. 

Please, please, please send me C&C! I live off of the stuff! My address is
quite clearly displayed in both the "From" and "Cc" sections of this
message, as well as within the fic itself. I've even been told that pressing
"Reply" works, if all that typing seems like too much work. I really do
appreciate anything I get, even if it's just a "hi". 

There, that seems like enough.

Oh, and anyone wanting to read earlier chapters in this story arc are more
than welcome to visit http://dataraven_659.tripod.com/roninsummer.html
and see what they can see. There are also earlier stories from the same
series to be found there, in case you're not sure why Haruka knows that
Anubis' real name is Kujuurou, or something.

Anyway, on with the fic (assuming the attachment works this time)!

- Morgan Hudson





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-- Attached file included as plaintext by Listar --
-- File: Crusade17.txt

OBLIGATORY LEGAL DISCLAIMER : Some of these guys aren't mine. The 
Sailor Senshi belong to DIC and Kodansha, while the Samurai Troopers 
are owned by Sunrise and Graz Entertainment. Okay? So don't bother 
suing me; I'm a student, and far too poor to be worth the effort. 

                   RONIN SUMMER VI : DARK CRUSADE

         A Sailor Moon / Yoroiden Samurai Troopers cross-over

             by Morgan Hudson (dataraven_659@excite.com)

Chapter Seventeen : Perspective

	Control. He had to maintain control.

	For the second time in as many days, he found himself sitting 
cross-legged on the floor, hands resting on his folded knees as he 
closed his eyes and took long, deep breaths. His eyes were closed, and 
his pose one of total and complete submersion into the act of 
meditation. A small briar to his left allowed its small trickle of 
smoke to waft lazily upwards, and the only sound in the entire room 
was that of his breathing. 

	He was a big man, his broad and muscular frame covered with an 
almost endless criss-cross of scar tissue - a road map of countless 
battles fought through the mists of time. He had faced armies, beasts, 
and creatures that defied description, and he had bested them all. He 
was known only as Thraw, and he had stalked through the ages bringing 
destruction and chaos with both hands. His body was the only monument 
to his greatness, no statues ever having been made to honour him. Such 
an act was one he reserved for those he had humbled, that in some 
small way their sacrifices could survive longer than the worlds they 
had ultimately failed to save. 

	His lip twitched upwards in a sneer. He would relish the 
sculpting of a certain Masho's statue. It would be a moment to be 
enjoyed only less than that when the dark-haired rogue's skull was 
finally ground to paste beneath Thraw's own iron-soled boots. That foul
horned helmet would be upended, and Thraw would be sure to toast his 
fallen foe with a thick, heady draught of blood and brains, drunk from 
his newest cup. 

	Unfortunately, Thraw thought, as his fingers slowly curled 
against his knees, the tendons creaking from the force of his grip, 
that moment was to be delayed for a little while. Like one of the 
creatures he claimed to share his nature with, the Wolf Masho had 
managed to slip away from a trap that should have been his end. Not 
alone, oh, not alone -Thraw had crushed the miserable dog fiercely 
enough to insure that- but still he had fled. 

	With a snort of irritation, the massive bald man lunged to 
his feet and kicked the smoking briar, sending it skittering away 
across the bare floorboards, finally bumping to a stop against the 
carpet he had torn up and set in the corner. 

	"Go ahead," Thraw growled, his sharpened teeth bared as his 
lips pulled back in a sneer. "Stick your tail between your legs and 
whimper in your mistress' lap for so long as she will have you. Writhe 
in your agony." His hands suddenly clenched into fists as he raised 
his arms above his head. "But I shall still find you, do you hear me? 
YOU WILL KNOW NO REST, MASHO! I will track you down, wherever you are, 
and I swear by Mother, I will dig you out of whatever hole you've dug 
for yourself. I will hunt you to the ends of this world, Masho, and 
every time you try to sleep, you will HEAR ME COMING!" 

	"So you're too busy to have some fun with me, but you've got 
all the time in the world to scream at the ceiling? You're lucky I 
have such a good self-image, love; a lesser woman might think you 
weren't interested." 

	Tuls crossed her arms under her breasts and smirked as she 
stepped into the room. Her golden, almond-shaped eyes closed slightly 
as she winced, raising one hand to rub her temple slightly and glanced 
down at the thick pile of stools and chairs that she was standing up 
to her waist in. "It was quite thoughtless of you to prop all this 
stuff here, brother Thraw. Now I'm going to have to go through SO much 
trouble to show you the souvenirs I picked up!" With a mocking scowl, 
she wagged a finger at him and turned on one heel, melting back through
the door she had entered from as though it Thraw himself had not 
personally closed and locked it. 

	The massive figure sighed as he watched his sister leave. He 
hated people who walked through solid objects like that - it showed a 
distinct lack of respect for the order of things. Walls were places 
that creatures were not meant to go. At the very least, breaking a 
wall down was something that showed proper respect for it; simply 
ignoring the entire affair was somehow wrong in a way that Thraw had 
never bothered to figure out. Shaking his head resignedly, he leaned 
against the wall and waited to see what new perversion his sister had 
uncovered and decided to try out on him. In his current mood, he 
almost wouldn't mind the distraction of knocking her unconscious; it 
took a surprising amount of effort to make her stay down.

	Moments later, somebody phased through the door. The truly 
surprising thing was that it wasn't his sister. For one thing, the 
figure was far taller than Tuls usually liked to be, and definitely 
not curvaceous enough. It was probably male, Thraw reflected, although 
the slender build was just ambiguous enough that he wasn't placing any 
money on it. The intruder was dressed in white trousers that seemed a 
trifle too large for them, and a tight black tunic that covered them 
from the neck down. It didn't look very protective, which explained the
vest. There was a fair bit of padding on that vest, Thraw thought to 
himself. It would probably absorb a fair bit of force from an 
opponent's strike. 

	The mask annoyed him, though. White ceramic or metal of some 
kind, with blue lenses over the eyes and a smile like a slit throat. 
Looked like it was laughing at him, or something. 

	"Well?" he asked gruffly. "Are you going to do something, or 
just stand there like some kind of grinning idiot?"

	The figure tilted its head to one side, its short shag of 
blonde hair swaying with the motion. Thraw ground his teeth together. 

	"Are you simple?" he asked, spitting the question out as he 
pushed himself away from the wall with a reflexive shrug of his 
shoulders and placed his hands on his hips. 

	A second person entered the room, stumbling through the stone 
wall and swaying slightly as they tried to regain their balance. Thraw
raised an eyebrow as he turned to the newcomer, who was also not his 
sister. This one was definitely female, with a long mane of hair the 
colour of the ocean. A peaked cap of dark green rested atop her head 
at a strange angle, as though it had been knocked to one side and 
nobody had bothered to set it back where it belonged. That, combined 
with the blank, glazed look in the woman's eyes, was more than enough 
to explain what was going on. 

	"So?" Tuls asked, poking her head through the wall that the 
second woman had walked -or more likely, Thraw realised, been pushed- 
through. "What do you think of my little puppets? Aren't they just 
precious? I swear, I could just eat them up... except, of course, that 
Pedri told me not to." 

	Thraw snorted and rolled his eyes. "And I suppose that you 
always do what Pedri tells you to do?" 

	"You'd better believe it, baby. And speaking of doing things, I
have a few ideas that we could -" Tuls' usual predatory smirk faded 
with unexpected speed as the lavender-haired girl suddenly wobbled, 
stepping back quickly to save herself from falling over completely. 
Blinking rapidly and opening her eyes wide, she placed one hand over 
her forehead and slapped the other against the wall to steady herself. 
"Woah. Hold that thought of mine, supersize; I think I need to lie 
down for a minute. Not that you aren't free to join me." Holding her 
head and moving like a drunkard, Tuls weaved over to a convenient couch
and flopped into it gratefully. 

	Thraw watched from across the room and scowled thoughtfully. 
She WAS his sister, so he supposed that technically he was obligated 
to check on her. 

	"Are you all right?" he asked, making sure to keep his 
distance as he did so. No point in ending up like those two mannequins 
in the corner, after all; he had enough trouble controlling himself 
without letting someone like his sister take a shot at it.

	"Ooh," Tuls moaned, "getting those two through that wall was 
such a very BIG job, and I am such a very small animal. I fear I 
may have pulled my phasing muscle, dear brother Thraw - wherever it 
is." Lifting her head wearily, the woman smiled and winked at him. 
"Would you care to rub it and make it feel better? It might take a 
while to find, but..."

	"I see there's no reason to worry," Thraw said acidly, as 
he took an extra step back, "you're obviously on the mend."

	"Would it have been more convincing if I had coughed?" Tuls 
asked curiously, rolling over onto her front and resting her chin on 
one hand. "I was thinking maybe I should, but then it occurred to me 
that it might be too melodramatic." With a dramatic sigh, she rolled 
over again and shifted position, resting her long legs against the 
wall as her hair spilled onto the floor. She had, Thraw noticed from 
his vantage point, decided to wear stockings for some reason. It was 
hard to tell -her skin was nearly as white as the silk itself- but 
the garters were a dead give-away. 

	"I've got a surprise for you," the upside-down Tuls cooed, 
smiling at Thraw. 

	"The last time you said that to somebody," Thraw growled, "We 
didn't see Erdge or Holts for nearly a month. They STILL won't say 
what happened to them."

	"This is a nicer surprise," Tuls promised. "At least, it is 
for me. YOU might be in a bit of trouble, though." 

	"Explain," Thraw snapped, crouching slightly and spreading his 
feet as his hands moved away from his sides. Something told him he was 
about to get attacked...

	Sighing deeply, Tuls sat up and brushed her hair back over her 
shoulders. "Let's just say that an hour ago upon the stair, I met a 
man who wasn't there." 

	"Pedri?" 

	"Do you know anybody else cute, dark and astral? I mean it; if 
you do, introduce me." With a hopeful look, his sister smiled and 
blinked innocently at him. After a moment, the smile faded and she 
placed her hands between her knees, leaning forward and biting her lip 
slightly as she rocked back and forth. "He said we better get back 
home as soon as possible. He's got some kind of thing he's getting 
ready, and he wants everybody there." She chucked a thumb in the 
direction of the two motionless figures standing nearby. "Especially 
them."

**********

	Once, a very long time ago, Haruka Ten'ou had been twelve years
old, and she had gone to a carnival with her parents. That had been 
back when she still had parents willing to be seen with her. Or, at 
least, parents who did more than just sit at home and wait for their 
little girl to 'get over' whatever was 'wrong' with her, and find a 
nice husband. Parents who spoke to her. Parents who didn't treat her 
like some kind of-

	On second thought, that was ground Haruka didn't really enjoy 
going over when she was rational, never mind whatever state her brain 
was currently enjoying. Somewhere between 'scramble' and 'puree', she 
was guessing. The point, as best as she could recall, had been that 
she went to a carnival. On the roller coasters, because, well, the 
bumper cars were only fun until they busted you for flipping over 
somebody else's cart. 

	The roller coasters had been fast, which was good in her book, 
but that was when young Haruka had learned a valuable lesson; roller 
coasters were not a good thing to combine with a stomach full of 
cotton candy and soda pop. Or, she assumed, a stomach full of anything 
else, but as everybody on the coaster that day could have verified, 
hers had been full of cotton candy and soda pop. Until about three 
seconds after she got off of the ride, that was - then it had become 
rather violently empty. 

	She felt like that again. Actually, to go back to a more 
recent memory, she felt like that time one of the guys had dared her 
to drink an entire bottle of sake, and she had woken up hanging from 
a coat hook in her hallway with her arms and legs tied together. To 
her dismay, she hadn't been able to get down by herself, which had 
left her stuck until the next morning, when Michiru found her. Of 
course, a few weeks later, Michiru finally confessed to having tied 
her up and hung her there in the first place...

	MICHIRU! Snapping her eyes open, Haruka sat up quickly, cursed 
loudly, clutched her head, cursed loudly again, and lay back down. 
Okay, so quick motions were out of the picture for the immediate 
future. She'd have to make a note of that.  

	"I see you're finally up," said the sweetest voice to ever 
slice through her brain like a dull chainsaw. "You're rather lucky; I 
was only going to give you a few more minutes before I tried something,
anyway."

	"Michiru?" Haruka croaked, hands clapped over her face as she 
stared through her fingers at an unfamiliar ceiling. "Is that you? 
Come closer, darling... It's... It's getting so dark, and cold... I 
can't hardly see, anymore..." Plus, she was pretty sure there were 
angry midgets trying to poke her eyes out from the inside, but she 
wasn't going to say that out loud until she was a little more certain. 
It could be hedgehogs.

	"Stop being so dramatic, Haruka," Michiru sighed, "you've had 
worse and lived."

	"Not on purpose," Haruka groaned, slowly rolling onto her side 
and daring to focus her eyes on something closer than the roof. "Ooh, 
I feel like somebody took my brain out and rolled it around on some 
thumbtacks." Scrubbing her face with her hands, the tall woman eased 
herself into a sitting position and winced noticeably, a brief flash 
of pain flitting across her features. "Situation?"

	"Unknown." Michiru shook her head, her shoulder-length mane of 
sea green hair rippling from the motion as she crossed her arms and 
leaned against the opposite wall of the chamber. "Probably trouble." 

	"Okay." Haruka took a short breath and blew it out, shaking her
head gingerly in an attempt to shake loose the last few cobwebs 
clinging to her mind. "So, what's the last thing we remember?"

	"Wine cellar," Michiru replied morosely. "Then here."

	"Yeah, same with me." Haruka ran her fingers through her short 
tangle of golden hair, dark eyes narrowed as her mouth turned 
downwards in a thoughtful scowl. 

	"Honestly," Michiru said with a slight laugh, "why do you 
always have to look so upset when you're thinking? It's as if you're 
angry that somebody's making you do it." 

	"I am," Haruka replied honestly. "Every time I have to think 
about things like this, it's usually because we're all about to get 
screwed. And you KNOW how I feel about that!" 

	"You're always so negative," Michiru scoffed, waving a 
dismissive hand in her lover's direction. "You should be looking on the
positive side of this - it's not a problem, it's an opportunity!" 

	"Sure... an opportunity to get tortured and killed by our 
enemies," Haruka spat out acidly, resting one hand against the side 
of her face as she crossed her long legs and rolled her eyes. "Whee. 
Sign me up for THAT."

	"We're not going to die here, Haruka," Michiru said, a stern 
look in her eyes as she pushed away from the wall and walked over to 
the door of their rather spartan room, running her fingertips along 
the grain of the wood. 

	"Michi, I love you, but you need to cut back on the booze." 
Haruka sighed deeply and lay back, lacing her fingers behind her head 
as she looked up at the bare flagstones of the ceiling. "The way I 
see it, we don't know where our allies are, we don't know where WE 
are, and we have even less of an idea as to how we got here! Even if 
we do manage to escape, we won't have the slightest idea where to run 
to, and I doubt we're going to get much of an opportunity. You saw 
what these guys did in that village we were in - a massacre like that 
is the work of people who don't like loose ends." She sighed again. 
"Unless you have a better idea, I'm going to attack whoever opens that 
door and hit the ground running."

	"Fortunately, I do," Michiru replied. "I say we play along for 
a while and see where it gets us. At least long enough to get a bit 
more information on what's going on; I, for one, am a little tired of 
having to take that Rajura person's word on things. If Setsuna is to 
be believed, we shouldn't trust that man if he tells us water is wet. 
Besides which, I'm not that sure he has any idea what we're up against,
either."

	"He does kind of strike you as someone going through the 
motions, doesn't he?" Carefully, Haruka swung her legs over the edge 
of the coarse wooden bench she had been lying on, setting her feet on 
the cool stone floor. At this rate, she guessed, she might actually 
be feeling up to doing something when the enemy appeared. If they gave 
her a few weeks.

	"We've worked with the Masho before." Michiru frowned slightly,
and Haruka felt the sudden urge to rush across the room and give her 
a hug. "This isn't like their usual modus operandi." 

	"You're kinda cute when you use big words," Haruka quickly 
interjected, with a devilish smirk. 

	"Thank you, sweetheart. Irregardless..."

	"See? There you go again."

	"As I was saying," Michiru continued, blushing slightly, "the 
Masho of the Dynasty have never struck me as the type who would retreat
from a battle. Most of the times we met them before this, they seemed 
rather busy LOOKING for fights. But ever since we've come here, it 
seems as though Kayura and her troops are running scared." 

	"Not Anubis," Haruka said forcefully, "he wasn't scared of 
anything. I think he wanted to fight. Running away was Rajura's idea."

	"And -as long as she doesn't find out I said this- Rajura is a 
lot like Setsuna. They may not like each other, but they think and act 
alike. Would Setsuna simply run away from a fight?" 

	"Sure," Haruka answered sarcastically. "She'd just hitch a 
ride on whatever pig was flying past. Setsuna only runs when it's part 
of a bigger strategy."

	"That's why I think Rajura's clueless. If he knew what he was 
up against, he would be planning how to beat it. Instead, he's running 
blind and trying to hold things together long enough to figure out what
he should do." Michiru shrugged. "At least, that's my interpretation."

	"Good point." Haruka frowned thoughtfully again, her face 
screwing itself up for an instant as she considered her partner's 
words. 

	With little ceremony, the thick door opened abruptly, and 
both women looked up. The man in the doorway was tall, his bald head 
almost brushing against the top of the frame as he crossed his muscular
arms across his broad chest and parted his lips in a sneer. His teeth,
Haruka noticed, seemed to have been filed into points, and his left 
ear was gone, leaving only a mass of scar tissue. She shifted her 
position slightly, steeling herself to leap at him. It might throw him 
off balance, she thought hopefully. Maybe give Michi a chance to run...

	The man's eyes met hers, and Haruka froze. "Try it," he said 
quietly, and smiled. 

	Slowly, the slender young woman let her body slip into a less 
aggressive stance, her muscles relaxing as she lowered her hands and 
carefully composed her features into a look of indifference. "Maybe 
some other time," she replied, in the same tone that he had used. 

	"Follow me," the man rumbled, and stepped back, leaving the 
doorway open.

	"Gee," Haruka muttered, as she and Michiru left the room and 
followed the giant down a marble corridor, "I wonder how long it took 
them to train a gorilla to talk."

	"Mind your tongue, wench," their muscular captor growled. 

	"Wench?" Haruka blinked. "You know, once you get the hang of 
bipedalism, you might want to consider working on your manners."

	"I assure you," the man replied with a smirk, "compared to my 
brothers, I am a paragon of gentlemanly behaviour. For example, despite
your foul attitude, I have yet to fold you into a swan. Others in my 
family would be far less considerate. Now watch your tongue, or I will 
gladly tear it out and watch it for you." 

	Haruka shrugged, and pinched her fingers together, drawing them
across her lips and miming the act of turning a key. With a flourish, 
she threw her arm back and opened her hand, then returned it to her 
side. 

	"Wise choice," Michiru said, sliding her arm around the other 
woman's waist as they walked. "He looks like he might actually back up 
that threat, and I prefer all of your parts where they are."

	"Well," the gigantic form gliding down the hallway ahead of 
them mused, looking over his shoulder, "I can tell which one of you 
he'll enjoy the most." 

	"I beg your pardon?" 

	"The person we're going to meet has a bit of a temper. Your 
friend will probably wind up getting herself obliterated. You, 
though... You I think he's going to like. Show respect."

	Michiru looked over at Haruka, who merely looked confused. "If 
you don't mind my asking," she called after their guide, "who exactly 
are we going to be meeting?"

	"Nobody that you WANT to meet," the man growled. Throwing his 
head back, he began to chuckle, a deep, rumbling sound that resembled 
a peal of thunder more than any noise that belonged in a human throat. 
"Nobody," he continued, once his laughter had subsided, "that anybody 
EVER wants to meet." 

**********

	After nearly an hour of walking, Michiru's feet were beginning 
to hurt. She had thought that those blasted suede boots she picked up 
in the village might be a little too small for her. Grimacing slightly,
she clenched her teeth and forced herself to keep up with the group. 
It wasn't easy, either, with Haruka's long legs to compete with; 
sometimes the dear girl forgot just how much longer her stride was. 

	At least the scenery was distracting, Michiru thought as she 
glanced around. In the past few minutes alone, they had gone from a 
marble hallway with Roman pillars and burning torches on the walls to 
what looked more like a smooth tunnel bored straight through some kind 
of softly glowing crystal, and then on to a place that vaguely reminded
her of her dentist's office, with grey shag carpeting and concrete 
walls painted a soft tone of grey. Wherever they were, it had to be an 
architect's idea of hell. Iron staircases that lead straight into blank
granite walls, floors fused together so badly that she could stick her 
fist through the gaps between them... it was like someone had decided 
to build the place by simply taking a few dozen other buildings and 
then gluing their parts together at random. For heaven's sake, there 
was a DOOR in the CEILING! Who would bother putting a door in a 
ceiling? It was almost as nonsensical as the hallway that had seemed 
to be formed entirely out of leather sheets stretched between wooden 
struts. Or the one that appeared to be made out of coral. Come to 
think of it, a door in the ceiling made more a little bit of sense, 
comparatively.

	The rather large gentleman who had been leading them finally 
came to a stop, placing his hands on his hips and looking up at a 
massive pair of doors blocking the path. They were nearly twice as 
tall as he himself was, and looked to be made out of solid oak. Michiru
paused and considered that for a moment. If those doors were even half 
as thick as they looked, they probably weighed more than all four of 
the Outer Senshi put together. 

	Which really made it a little disconcerting when he pushed them
open with one hand as though they were made of cardboard. Michiru 
raised an eyebrow and made a thoughtful sound. Obviously he was even 
stronger than he looked. If the situation got worse, she'd have to make
certain that he didn't stay around long enough to pose them any 
problems. It was a good thing that Haruka was so aggressive; she 
all but painted a bull's-eye on her chest as far as any enemies were 
concerned. People rarely expected trouble to come from placid, quiet 
little Michiru. That usually guaranteed her at least one free hit. 

	She gently tightened her grip around Haruka's waist, and felt 
the other woman stiffen slightly in response. Their eyes met, and 
Michiru nodded as she stepped away from her lover and let her hands 
dangle loosely at her sides. Haruka rubbed her wrists in what appeared 
to be a nervous gesture, and smiled as she nodded in response. Good. 
Her henshin stick was still in her sleeve, then. Michiru took another 
surreptitious step to the side, making sure that Haruka would have all 
the room she needed to move. Just in case. 

	As they entered the room, Michiru felt her eyes bulging at the 
sheer opulence before them. Rich velvet draperies hung from golden rods
along all eight walls of the octagonal room, their dark purple nearly 
black, with slight gleams of colour where the light struck them. 
Silver saucers filled with some kind of liquid burned atop intricately 
sculpted stands of dark iron, standing in rows along each wall like 
soldiers at attention, carefully set far enough from the draperies 
that there was no risk of fire. The centre of the room was set higher 
than the sides, with a short staircase leading to the raised dais, 
where a table had been set up with eight chairs. Covered dishes sat 
in front of each chair, the steam creeping out of each dish and mixing 
with the smoke from the two candelabras dominating the table. 

	It wasn't quite the torture chamber Michiru had been expecting.

	Haruka glanced over at her and shrugged. Michiru shrugged back 
and followed as their guide led them up the stairs and indicated two 
chairs on opposite sides of the table. The two women shared a glance 
and pulled out the chairs, sitting down and looking around in 
confusion. To Michiru's surprise, there was someone already sitting 
next to her - the high backs on the chairs had concealed them from 
view at first. 

	The stranger was dressed in some form of faded violet 
turtleneck sweater and what appeared to be denim jeans, with a 
shoulder-length mane of crimson hair. Aside from that, it was hard to 
tell much else about her - the girl was bent over, with her head 
cushioned on her arms and her face on her plate. A gentle prod with 
Michiru's elbow resulted in nothing more than a slight change in the 
pattern of the strange girl's snores. 

	"I have to go and prepare," the bald man grumbled. "I shall 
return shortly. Until then, you will be in the care of someone else."

	"Her?" Michiru asked politely, tilting her head to indicate 
the slumbering girl sitting next to her. 

	"No," the man replied, pointing upwards, "him."

	As if in response to the words, a chair at the head of the 
table suddenly pulled itself back and away, gliding several feet across
the carpet before stopping. Haruka and Michiru slowly shifted their 
gaze up, following their captor's finger. There was indeed something 
on the ceiling, resting one of the corners of the room and almost 
invisible, its black form blending so well with the dark draperies. 

	The black shape suddenly opened, flashing white on its reverse 
side as the cape's wearer straightened and let it fall away from him. 
He was tall, with a slender build that seemed almost scrawny in 
comparison to the behemoth who stood next to them. Pushing away from 
the ceiling, the youth pivoted in mid-air and slowly began to float 
towards the ground feet-first. His cape spread out as he descended, 
the black and white fabric unfurling around him like a flag in the 
breeze. His coat was a dark crimson, the colour of drying blood, and 
his pants were as dark as the abyss itself. Hair the colour of a 
raven's wing swirled about his head as he floated towards them, and 
his blue eyes seemed to glow with an inner light as he scowled at the 
two women. 

	"Oh, my..." Michiru breathed, feeling a strange lump form in 
her throat.

	"If his hair turns gold," Haruka said in a strangled tone of 
voice, "I'm bolting."

	"What?"

	The blonde woman shrugged. "Just thought I should warn you."

	There was a soft tapping sound as the strange man's steel-toed 
boots finally made contact with the floor, and his ebony cape slowly 
drifted down around his body once more as he landed at the head of the 
table. "Good evening," he said, in a voice as soft as powdered chalk. 
"You ladies will have to forgive me if I don't shake your hands." His 
cape parted and spilled back over his shoulder as he raised one arm, 
and the chair once again moved of its own volition, sliding forward 
until it made contact with the back of his knees. He sat, resting his 
wrists on the arms of the chair and gazing at the two Senshi as though 
he were a king on a throne. 

	Michiru cleared her throat, and flinched slightly at the 
unexpected intrusion of sound. Aside from their breathing, and the 
occasional soft snore from the redhead sleeping in her chair, there 
was no sound at all. Even the torches burned silently, without any 
wood to snap or crackle in the heat of the flames. It was a brooding 
silence, an oppressive silence - the kind of quiet that it almost 
seemed illegal to break. It didn't take very long for her to begin 
feeling uncomfortable. The young man merely sat and stared, not even 
seeming to blink as his gaze scoured both of the Senshi. Finally, as 
though somehow content, he leaned back in the chair and brought his 
hands together, steepling his fingers and gently resting them against 
his chin. 

	"That's an interesting pin," Michiru said, gesturing towards 
the stylised silver bird holding his cape. "It looks rather old." 

	"It is." 

	"Roman?"

	"No." 

	The silence continued. From the corner of her eye, Michiru 
could see Haruka begin to fidget slightly, playing with a fork. With 
a philosophical shrug, she decided to let it be. Whoever they were 
with, he didn't seem very interested in talking. No point annoying the 
man - he'd have to let them know what he wanted sooner or later.

	Quietly, one by one, forms came from the shadows and took their
seats. It was really rather macabre, Michiru thought, the way that 
seemed to melt out of the darkness and moved without making any noise 
at all. The first to appear was a woman. Her entire body was swathed 
from head to foot in black leather - leather pants, leather boots, 
leather jacket, leather gloves, and with leather belts and straps 
wrapped and twined around her like some kind of biker mummy. Steel 
spikes gleamed in the torchlight from where they protruded out from 
between the pieces of leather stretching over her shoulders, and a long
braid of golden hair hung down her back, brushing against her ankles 
as she stepped up onto the platform and sat herself on Michiru's other 
side. Even her head was encased in some kind of tight leather hood, 
a zipper peaking out from behind the tangle of straps and buckles on 
the back of her head. Unless Michiru was mistaken, there even appeared 
to be a small padlock on the thing. The front of the hood was thicker 
than the rest, with what looked more like a hard shell of cured 
leather over the woman's face. Only her eyes could be seen, her 
green irises glowing balefully behind the wire mesh screens that 
covered them. 

	It must take her all day just to get dressed, Michiru mused, 
with all those buckles and snaps and zippers. Not to mention that the 
suit was quite tight enough to make it unlikely she was wearing much 
underneath it - it showed off her trim figure quite well. She was 
about Haruka's height, Michiru guessed, but she was as thin as a 
rapier. Didn't seem to have an ounce of body fat on her, and the way 
she kept eyeing everything made Michiru wonder when the girl last ate. 
There was a certain furtive manner about her, and her fingers kept 
twitching slightly whenever she looked down at the silverware.

	"If you even start to consider it," the caped man said 
warningly, "I will personally handcuff you to your chair."

	"You can borrow mine," the next entrant offered, slinking into 
the light and sitting at the far end of the table. "I'm more than 
happy to share ANYTHING with YOU, dear Leader..." The woman in question
was slightly shorter than her leather-clad compatriot, with a wild 
mane of purple hair and golden, cat-like orbs with slitted pupils. She 
was wearing nothing, or at least, a costume that achieved the same 
effect. Her pants were made of a nearly transparent material that 
managed only to tint her pale skin a rosy pink, and the matching 
blouse was held on by nothing more than a silver belt and some good 
intentions. There was also what looked a bit like a fishing net made 
from steel wires hanging on her hip. Noticing the Senshi's gaze on 
her, the strange woman gave Michiru a sultry smile and lounged back 
in her chair, rubbing her neck with one hand and throwing the other 
back over her head. "Aren't I?" she asked, and ran her tongue over 
her lips before blowing a kiss in the Senshi's direction.

	Michiru shuddered, and quickly turned her attention back to the
leather-clad woman, who was apparently much too busy glaring at Haruka 
to notice. She heard a soft chuckle come from the far end of the table,
and felt her spine stiffen in response. She made a mental note not to 
look in that direction for the rest of the meal. Something about that 
purple-haired one made her feel queasy. 

	His iron-soled boots clumping dully on the thick carpet with 
each step, their former guide was the next to appear. In honour of the 
occasion, he had donned a simple white shirt that was tucked neatly 
into the broad leather belt he wore. Its buckle had three tongues, and 
the entire circumference was covered with small steel hooks. His chair 
creaked ominously as he lowered himself into it, sitting on Haruka's 
left, across from the girl in leather. He nodded curtly to her, then 
crossed his massive arms over his broad chest and lowered his head, 
his dark eyes sparkling in the shadow cast by his brow. 

	The caped youth rose to his feet, his chair once again pulling 
itself away from him as he cast a pointed glance at the only chair left
empty. Wordlessly, his eyes travelled from one person to the next, as 
each either shrugged or shook their head in response to his unasked 
question. With each sign of ignorance, the scowl on his otherwise 
placid countenance seemed to sink an inch deeper into his face, and 
the glow in his eyes grew brighter. 

	Somebody stepped on her foot, and Michiru forced her gaze away 
from the silent spectacle to look over at Haruka. Having gotten her 
attention, the blonde woman simply pointed at the candelabra sitting 
a few feet down from them. 

	The once small and flickering flames had grown into thin 
streamers of fire, wax flowing down the sides of the rapidly 
disappearing candles like water gushing from a hole in a dam as the 
flames swirled around each other and reached towards the ceiling. 

	"If you will all excuse me for a moment," the caped man said 
in a tightly controlled voice, "it seems one of our guests has 
forgotten about his invitation." His toes floating a few inches above 
the ground, the youth slowly drifted away from the table and the 
flames on the candles slowly shrunk back down to their weak selves, 
flickering feebly within a shapeless mound of rapidly cooling wax. 

**********

	Thraw looked down at the silverware in front of him. On his 
left, there was an array of what appeared to be forks. Apparently, 
his usual fork had invited its extended family to the dinner. On his 
right, he saw something he was more comfortable with: knives. He 
didn't necessarily recognise the immediate use for each of them, but 
knives were things he never had too many of. Most of the forks were 
either too short to have good range or too flimsy to do much damage. 
A quick glance around the table was no help: Holts was still sleeping 
on top of her silverware, and all of Erdge's silverware had somehow 
disappeared completely, leaving only a plate and glass behind. The 
two mortals looked about as confused as he was, and Tuls... well, he 
knew better than to ask her what she thought the utensils should be 
used for; her answer was bound to unnerve him.

	"I don't suppose anybody would have any chopsticks," the 
blonde woman sitting next to him muttered, holding a small fork with 
two prongs and examining it as though she expected it to explode. 

	"That's an oyster fork, Haruka," the green-haired one 
explained. "You don't really need it." 

	"Then why the hell did they GIVE it to me?" the blonde -Haruka,
apparently- asked in a harsh whisper. Thraw was forced to agree: it 
seemed rather dumb of his brother Pedri to give people tools they 
weren't going to need. 

	"Do you suppose we should eat?" Tuls asked, looking from one 
person to another with her stange golden eyes. "I mean, there's no 
point waiting for everything to get cold. Besides, the sooner we 
finish, the sooner I can get out of here. I mean, I have things to see 
and people to do, don't I, Erdge?"

	Erdge stiffened again, and her eyes began to dart around the 
room. "I, uh, think we should wait," she said quickly, "until Pedri 
comes." 

	"Well," Tuls replied, "as long as THAT'S what we're waiting 
for, I don't mind in the least..." Raising her eyebrows, the 
violet-haired woman leaned forward and propped her chin on one fist, 
giving her sister a sultry smile. "Of course, sometimes it seems like 
as soon as he comes, he goes... know what I mean, Sister Erdge?" 

	"Excuse me," the green-haired girl asked, drawing a relieved 
look from Erdge and a frustrated one from Tuls, "but why exactly are 
my friend and I here at all? If nobody minds my asking, I mean."

	"We don't know," Thraw answered. "It wasn't our decision."

	"I just brought you because Pedri ordered me to," Tuls added, 
shrugging slightly to show exactly how much she cared about the 
current topic. "Sister Erdge, do you think maybe you and I should go 
track him down and ask him?" 

	"Not really," Erdge admitted, shaking her head. "In fact I 
don't think I'm the sort of person you should do much of anything 
with..."

	"On the contrary," Tuls argued playfully. "I've always thought 
you were very good at getting things done. Of course, I'm biased; maybe
we should wake Sister Holts up and ask HER opinion. She should know, 
shouldn't she?" 

	"Shut up," Erdge muttered, grabbing a fork and stabbing angrily
at the meal in front of her. Taking his cue from her, Thraw grabbed 
the same fork from his plate and jabbed a particularly large piece of 
meat, tossing it into his mouth and chewing happily. It was a good 
thing somebody finally figured out where to start, he reflected: he had
been getting hungry.

	"It's nothing to be ashamed of," Tuls replied indignantly, 
reclining in her chair as she toyed with one of her knives. "In fact, 
I'd say you deserve a medal. That was the best month of my life." 

	"People like you are why I prefer to work alone," Vyne 
commented as he soared across the room and landed beside his chair, 
wings tucking back behind him like a feathered cape as he sat. "Tuls," 
he said, nodding slightly in the woman's direction. "It's nice to see 
you finally managed to get off of your back..."

	"Oh, I believe in giving equal time to all the positions," Tuls
replied airily, waving one hand towards the winged man. "Of course, if 
you were a little more friendly, you'd know that."

	"I'm very friendly," Vyne objected, with a hurt air about him 
as he turned to the others at the table. "Erdge, am I friendly?" 

	"Usually," Erdge admitted. 

	"Thraw, I'm friendly, aren't I?"

	"You're a weak, simpering little twat," Thraw growled around 
a mouthful of food. "Don't talk to me."

	"Right, then." Vyne forced a smile and turned to the person 
next to him. "Hello. I don't believe we've met. My name is Vyne. I'm 
the only person in my group who's even remotely sane." 

	"Haruka Ten'ou. The same." 

	"You shall forgive me for leaving so abruptly earlier," Pedri 
said brusquely, smoothing the front of his jacket with one hand as he 
reclaimed his seat at the head of the table. "I'm afraid Brother Vyne 
here had lost track of the time." 

	"Was that before or after the train hit his face?" Haruka 
asked, peering at the winged man's bruised and battered features. There
were large bruises under both eyes, and his nose seemed red and 
swollen. 

	"Shortly before," Pedri answered her, smiling politely. Leaning
forward, he stretched a hand towards his wine goblet, then stopped 
mid-way there. Biting his lower lip slightly, he curled his fingers 
into a fist and set it down on the surface of the table, instead. "So,"
he said pleasantly, turning to Michiru, "you and your friend are 
visitors here?" 

	"In a sense," Michiru replied, taking a sip from her goblet. 
"You might say we're visiting friends. Except that they aren't really 
friends." 

	"Then why visit?" Pedri asked. "Why not go home?"

	"If we did that," Michiru answered him, "it would be rude. They
invited us to come and see something. We really do have to stay until 
we've seen it; that's only common decency."

	"And what, pray tell, did they invite you to see?"

	"You," Michiru said with a smile. "Leaving."

	Pedri snorted, his lips twitching upwards in a humourless grin 
as he leaned closer to the green-haired maiden. "That may pose a 
problem," he confessed. "We aren't planning to leave any time soon."

	"That's quite all right," Michiru reassured him, "my friends 
and I can be very patient. We'll wait." 

	"Why not simply leave things as they are?" Pedri suggested, 
spreading his hands wide and shrugging. "We have caused you no harm, 
and we are posing you no threat. Why risk your lives trying to resist 
us, if you have no stake in whether we succeed or fail?" 

	"That's a good point," Michiru admitted, holding her goblet 
and staring into its depths contemplatively. "However, I have a feeling
that if we left the youjakai to your tender mercies, it wouldn't take 
you long to get bored with it. Eventually, you'd show up in our 
backyard, and then our stake would be very high indeed."

	"We move rather slowly," Pedri argued, "and the mulitverse is 
an unbelievably large place. It make take us thousands of years to 
reach your home."

	"We have friends who plan to still be around in thousands of 
years," Michiru explained with a pleasant smile as she lifted her 
glass in a toast to the caped man. "It wouldn't be very prudent of us 
to let you show up and surprise them. I think it will be better for 
everyone involved if we just do this earlier, instead of later."

	"Besides," Haruka interjected, "we're do-gooders. You call it 
risking our lives for no reason, we call it Saturday." She shrugged. 
"It's a sickness, really. If we weren't here, we'd probably be off 
helping old ladies cross streets."

	Pedri frowned, closing his eyes and lightly pressing his 
fingertips against his forehead. "Do you truly want to throw your 
lives away so recklessly?" he asked, almost looking pained at the 
idea." Is there nobody who would miss you? Nobody who needs you, or 
would feel pain at your passing?" 

	Michiru nodded slowly, giving Pedri a skeptical look. "Why do 
I think you already know the answer to that question? We have a 
daughter - Hotaru. She's twelve years old."

	"That is a shame," Pedri said quietly. "You see, if you refuse 
to leave this world willingly, I have no choice but to personally 
remove you." Rising from his chair, the slender man glanced to his 
left. "Sister Holts, wake up." 

	"Snuh?" Blinking slowly, the red-haired girl lifted her head 
from her plate and glanced over at her brother. "What's up?" 

	"It's time, Sister Holts. Bring it." 

	"Ah, geez," Holts grumbled, sliding out of her chair and 
staggering towards the door, "again? This is the nine millionth time 
we've done this, bro. When are you going to just start killing them and
sparing your ears?"

	"There is an order to things, Sister Holts. Bring it." 
Unfastening his ebony cape, Pedri flung it aside and gestured with one 
hand, sending his chair scraping back across the carpeted floor. 
"Dinner is over," he said brusquely, as another gesture caused the 
long table to upend itself and hurl its contents through the air like 
a makeshift catapult. "Go," he ordered, his voice rising over the 
clamour of plates and silverware clattering against the wall. 

	"But Pedri-" Tharw began to say.

	"GO!" Pedri snapped, his face flushing red as he began to 
away from the floor, rising into the air. "All of you go! You have 
things to do! DO THEM! LEAVE US ALONE!" 

	One by one, the other people began to file out of the room. 
First went Vyne, muttering foul things under his breath as he headed 
towards the door. Thraw followed quickly after, a sour look on his 
face. Tuls stalked after him, holding Erdge firmly by her braid and 
using the hair as a leash. 

	"Drop her," Pedri ordered. "Erdge stays."

	Tuls pouted. "But, Pedri, love... I was going to-"

	"Let her go, Sister Tuls, or I swear I will find a way to hurt 
you that you will NOT enjoy." As the violet-haired woman reluctantly 
relinquished her prey, Pedri straightened one cuff of his dark crimson
jacket and turned back to Haruka and Michiru. 

	"There is a practice," he explained, "which I follow. A 
contest, you might say. The stakes are rather simple: win, and you 
get to live. You shall also recieve one wish, to be granted by me- 
anything you desire, so long as it is within my power. Fail, and I 
shall kill you and incorporate you into my forces after death."

	"What if we choose not to play?" Haruka asked curiously. 

	"Then I shall kill you and incorporate you into my forces 
after death," Pedri replied with a frown. "Refusing to play is the 
same as failing."

	"Can we discuss this for a moment?" Michiru requested. 

	Pedri's frown deepened. "My patience grows thin. Discuss 
quickly, or I shall assume you have chosen to forfeit." Turning on 
one boot heel, he strode a respectable distance away and stood next 
to Erdge, leaving the two women alone on the podium. 

	"What do you think?" Haruka asked Michiru quickly, glancing 
over her shoulder at Pedri as he glared at them. 

	"Well," Michiru mused, "what are our options?" 

	"Play along with this game of his, or transform right now and 
attack him," Haruka concluded. "Two of them, two of us... we might 
get lucky, maybe force the leather chick to show us the way out."

	"Or they might squish us like bugs," Michiru warned her 
partner. "We don't know anything about the woman, but the man is at 
least telekinetic, if he can move things without touching them."

	"Pryokinetic, too," Haruka reminded Michiru. "Remember those 
candles? When he got mad, they went off like jet engines." 

	"So we're better off playing along," Michiru concluded. "If 
we manage to win his contest, we're free to go. If we fail, then we're 
no worse off than we are now. We should at least try." 

	"Hope your fingers are nice and limber, then," Haruka said 
wryly. "This one's all up to you."

	"Beg pardon?" 

	"That guy's Pedri, right? Or at least, he thinks he is." Haruka
folded her arms across her chest and looked down at her partner. "And 
that Nasuti chick told us that Pedri always challenges people to-"

	"A fiddle contest!" Michiru slapped herself on the forehead and
started to chuckle. "I'd completely forgotten."

	"Well, fortunately, ONE of us pays attention." Reaching out, 
Haruka began to massage Michiru's shoulders. "So, my little violinist, 
feel up to a quick performance?" 

	"I suppose I have no choice," Michiru responded. "At the very 
least, I can sound better failing than you would." 

	"Time's up," Pedri interrupted, marching forward with a violin 
and bow tucked under his arm. "The instrument has been brought, and 
the contest must begin. Do you accept?" 

	"I do," Michiru answered. 

	"And you are aware of the terms of this contest?" 

	"I am," she replied, and accepted the violin as he offered it 
to her. Holding the instrument by its neck, she nervously plucked each 
string with her fingernails, making sure it was in tune. Swallowing, 
the slim young girl lifted her chin and slid the violin into place, 
resting it on her shoulder as she held the bow in her other hand and 
slowly drew it across the strings. 

	"Am I to go first, then?" she asked, looking over at Pedri as 
he took his seat and crossed his legs, placing his hands on his knees. 

	"You are to go alone," he explained. "Close your eyes and wait 
for inspiration. Play whatever comes into your head. If Mother has 
chosen to spare you, it will be the right song."

	With a philosophical shrug, Michiru took in a deep breath and 
let it out slowly, trying to calm her stomach and steady her fingers. 
The odds of this working, she thought, were somewhat higher than 
'ludicrous' and brushing against 'impossible', but it would at least 
help stall for time. What to play, though? Paganini? Tchaikovsky? 

	Wait a minute. A few months ago, Setsuna had made a big deal 
about some song she had heard on the radio, or something. She had said 
she couldn't remember the title, but she'd hummed it for weeks on end. 
She'd even asked Michiru and Haruka to perform it, once or twice. Could
that be the song? Had she been trying to teach it to them because she 
knew that this time would come?

	Oh, sweet Lord - HOW DID IT GO? 

	"Any time you feel like starting, please do," Pedri called out 
impatiently. "I'm a rather busy person, you know."

	Slowly, Michiru touched the bow to the strings, placing her 
heels together and taking one last breath. Wherever you are, Setsuna, 
she thought, wish me luck. If I'm wrong about this, I'm really, 
really, sorry. She drew the bow back, and the music began to play. 
It swelled around her, almost like a living thing, as she swayed back 
and forth with the tune. The music spread outward, curling around 
Haruka and ruffling through the thick curtains draping the walls as 
her hands and fingers moved almost of their own accord. It was vibrant,
almost more than one violin should have been able to produce. 

	The music spread out again, encompassing Pedri and his 
compatriot in its embrace. Michiru felt oddly calm, like the eye in the
centre of the invisible tornado of sound and emotion that was washing 
against everything else in the room. She couldn't even hear it. She 
couldn't even feel the instrument in her hands anymore. It was as if 
the music came from somewhere else, somewhere outside of her. 

	Haruka stepped up onto the stage, wearing her usual dark slacks
and rumpled white shirt, bathed golden by the light of the music. With 
a knowing smile, she walked towards Michiru with a lazy, confident 
stride. Well of course, Michiru thought, why hurry? They had forever. 
They could take as much time as they wanted to.

	As though reading her mind, the willowy girl laughed silently 
and shook her head, her short crop of golden hair ruffling in the 
motion as if caught in a breeze that Michiru couldn't feel. One hand 
in her pocket, Haruka looked up and combed her bangs out of her eyes 
with her fingers, bobbing her head slightly as she stepped closer and 
carefully weaved past Michiru moving arms, somehow ending up inside 
them, her nose almost touching that of her lover. 

	Sometimes, her eyes said lovingly, forever was too long. Their 
lips met, and Michiru closed her eyes, letting the violin and bow fall 
from her fingers. The instrument hit the floor with a loud clatter, 
and the music came to an abrupt halt. 

	Michiru's eyes opened. Haruka was standing near the edge of 
the podium wearing a black turtleneck sweater, blue vest, and baggy 
white pants, just as she had been when the tune began. Blinking in 
confusion, Michiru turned and looked over her shoulder, where Pedri 
sat in his chair, his expression veiled and unreadable. 

	"You did great, Michi," Haruka said, walking over to her. "I 
don't know if it's what he wanted, but it worked for me. I just wish 
I could have helped you somehow."

	"Don't congratulate me yet," Michiru warned her partner, "it's 
what he thinks that really matters."

	Pedri stared down at his hands, seemingly fascinated with the 
way that his fingers moved and flexed under his leather gloves. After 
what felt like an eternity, he lifted his head and stared at the two 
Senshi. 

	"I suppose," he said, "the fates have chosen to smile on you 
today. Congratulations, you are free to go. State your wish, and I 
shall grant it."

	"Our wish?" Michiru turned and looked at Haruka, who nodded 
almost imperceptibly. "We wish for you and all of your people to leave 
here and never return."

	"Sorry," Pedri said pleasantly, "can't. Try again."

	"What do you mean you can't?" Haruka stepped forward, pushing 
Michiru behind her as she pointed an accusatory finger at Pedir. "You 
said you would grant any wish if we won the contest!" 

	"Within my power," Pedri reminded her gently. "It's not within 
my power to stop our mission. Our mission is laid out to us from Mother
herself, and I cannot defy her orders."

	"I knew there'd be a trick of some kind," Haruka muttered.

	"Haruka, don't," Michiru whispered, stepping forward to address
Pedri. "Can you return us to the rest of our group? I wouldn't want to 
worry them, and we have no way of knowing how to get to them from 
wherever we are. We're new to this land, you see, and don't understand 
it's geography."

	"That," Pedri replied with a smile, "I can do. I'll have one 
of my siblings take you to your compatriots - we happen to have 
stumbled upon their encampment just this morning."

	"And you didn't attack them?" Haruka asked, incredulous. 
"Why?"

	"They don't seem to pose an immediate threat," Pedri said 
simply, "and I have other things to do. As long as they aren't 
bothering me, I'm content to leave them alone." With a flippant toss 
of his head, the youth settled back in his chair and folded his arms 
actoss his chest. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have busy things to 
do. Holts will take you to your friends. Farewell."

**********

	Pedri hadn't moved since those women left. He merely sat, 
staring blankly at the far wall as though he didn't even see it. Even 
his face remained in the same carefully veiled expression it had had 
ever since he heard that strange song. 

	Erdge quietly knelt on the floor, gathering a handful of the 
candles that had been sent flying when Pedri flipped the table and 
setting them on the edge of the raised podium. After all, someone had 
to clean up, and if a few more pieces of silverware went missing, well,
they must have been lost under the drapes somewhere. Stealing a quick 
glance over at Pedri, she eased down the zipper on the front of her 
costume and tucked a few spoons and knives in before quickly zipping 
back up. After all, nobody could find everything in a room this big, 
not the way all that stuff went flying. An oyster fork slid under the 
edge of one glove. It wasn't like it was her fault - things just went 
missing sometimes! Another quick zip, and another fork was quickly 
tucked in to join its fellows. 

	"Not that one," Pedri said quietly.

	"What?" Erdge blinked innocently. "I was just, you know, 
picking some stuff up, Brother Pedri. Seems kind of sloppy to leave it 
all lying around, and..."

	Without even turning his head to look at her, Pedri extended 
a hand. "The fork," he said. "The one you just tucked into your 
cleavage. It happens to be MY fork. I would appreciate it if you 
returned it to me. And for the last time, stop calling me 'Brother'. 
It's just Pedri."

	"Fork?" Erdge glanced down curiously. "I don't think I remember
picking up any forks, especially not any that I -" 

	Pedri looked at her. 

	"Crap," Erdge muttered, unzipping the front of her suit and 
reaching in to draw out a silver fork. "Would you believe it was an 
accident?" 

	"I know, Erdge," Pedri said calmly, as though not really 
paying attention to her. "You just can't help yourself. Like a little 
raccoon."

	With a heartfelt sigh, Erdge let the fork slide from her 
fingers and land in Pedri's palm. Good-bye little friend, she thought 
sadly, may the wind be ever at your back... 

	"On second thought, it's just a fork," Pedri said. "If it 
means that much to you, keep it." 

	Squealing happily, Erdge grabbed the silver utensuil and 
clutched it to her like a long-lost child. Pedri could be a pretty 
cool guy, sometimes. In fact, he wasn't so bad. She wondered if he'd 
let her take a closer look at that brooch of his, maybe even touch it 
for a second. She'd only touch. And maybe borrow it for a while... 

	"No," he said glumly, "you can't borrow my brooch. You may 
look at it, if you wish. No touching." He glanced back over his 
shoulder at her. "Erdge, can you put the fork away for a second? I 
need to talk." 

	Nodding dutifully, the masked blonde tucked the utensil back 
inside her costume and zipped it back up to her chin. "What do you 
want to talk about, Pedri?" 

	"Nothing. Everything." Pedri sighed. "Nothing. Rules, I guess.
Whether they're made to be broken, or not." Hanging his head, he 
stared at the floor as though it had some kind of clue written on it. 
"I'm supposed to be Leader, Erdge. That's a rule. Mother's Chosen. The 
only one gifted with the power to hear Her voice. But now you... you've
heard Mother. You're Her Chosen, too, now. There've never been two of 
us before."

	"I didn't mean to hear Her," Erdge said apologetically. "Maybe 
she was trying to talk to you, and I just got in the way?" 

	"No. She Chose you. That makes us equals." Pedri smiled. "I've
never had one of those before either. Rules are getting broken all over
the place. You and Thraw have both failed, and THAT'S against the 
rules. Holts has been working overtime instead of slacking off, and 
that's DEFINITELY against the rules. It's like an epidemic. Even I'm 
breaking the rules." 

	Erdge sat next to Pedri and carefully reached up, letting her 
hand brush against his as she rested it on the arm of the chair. 
Encouraged by his lack of response, she placed her hand directly on 
his, and squeezed it gently. He winced in pain, and she immediately 
eased back on her grip.

	"That tune the girl played," she said softly, as though afraid 
to even breach the question, "it wasn't the right one, was it?"

	"It wasn't even close." 

	"Why did you release them, then?" 

	"I'm not a monster, Erdge." Pedri's smile turned almost 
sorrowful. "I can feel some compassion. They would have won that 
contest if they had plucked strings at random. If they refuse to 
leave, then we will have to destroy them with the rest of this place, 
but Mother never said I had to kill them right away. I guess I just 
thought that a mother's place should be by her child's side."

	"You know, Pedri? Sometimes you're all right." 

	Pedri turned to look at the leather-clad woman in surprise. 
"As I am far too polite," he said, sounding slightly stunned, "to 
disagree with a lady, I shall merely thank you for the compliment."

	"We're still destroying all life on the planet, though, right?"

	"Well, of course," Pedri answered, staring at the wall again. 
"It's for their own good." 

**********

TO BE CONTINUED...



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