Here's the next chapter.  Sorry for the hiatus -- distracted by
Otakon.  

	Warning:  This chapter is pretty heavy on the graphic violence.
Readers sensitive to that sort of thing should be careful accordingly.

	More soon!

Django Wexler (khaine)
khaine@mindless.com

	Toothgnip: "Pancakes is the better part of valor."
        Philip: "That's not right.  It's discretion.  Discretion 
is the better part of valor."
        Toothgnip: "Which do you like better?  Discretion or pancakes?"
        -Goats


Part Three: Convergence

Chapter Thirteen
     Tsunami

     Even in my sleep, I writhed in remembered pain.  I could feel the
cool, thin sheets above me twisted and sweat-stained.  Kyoko lay a few
feet away, her eyes open, staring at me in the darkness.  I could feel
the heat from her body like a furnace on my skin, feel the faint
currents of the air like rasps over an open wound.  Even my own breath
was agony, the slow creak of my ribcage amplified until I nearly
snapped.  My heart thumped dull fire in my chest.

     "Tsunami..."

     Kyoko reached out to touch my shoulder.  I would have shouted at
her, told her to stay away from me, but the act of speaking would have
seared my throat to a cinder.  Her fingertips brushed my skin, warmth
burning like a hot coal and every whorl and tiny hair slicing my
tattered nerves like knives.  I felt unconsciousness returning, a
comforting black wave, and nearly cried out in relief.

     Even then, I was dreaming.

 

     The old man's face was a mask of sweat, pouring all his effort into
fighting something invisible and unstoppable.  His family was gathered
around him -- I assumed they were his family, anyway -- looking worried.
Six, all told -- the grandfather, father, mother, a young man a few
years older than me and a girl perhaps a year younger, one arm thrown
around her little sister, who must have been all of eight.

     I wondered what they'd been doing here, for two years.  The house
was huge, almost a mansion, and mercifully untouched by the ever-growing
Null Zone.  Makoto had said the place was layered with protective charms
and wards, strong enough to turn away the merely curious and destroy
anyone who pried further.  

     I'd seen good evidence of this as we entered.  One of the strange
troopers, armored in dull black -- Jupiter called him an 'Adept' -- led
the way for our little group as though breaking trail.  His pace was
slow, measured, and at each step curtains of light flashed into being,
energy contorted in agony and earthing itself on his black armor in
strobing bolts of power.  I whispered to Makoto as the onslaught
continued.

     "Doesn't it hurt him?"

     Sailor Jupiter smiled tightly and said nothing.

     She'd explained the battle plan before we'd left the dropship,
parked only a few blocks away.  The Adept, whoever or whatever he was
under that armor, would provide the distraction and get us past the
wards.  Under cover of whatever magical firepower the defenses would
unleash at him, she and I would find and destroy the targets.  The four
Legionnaires who followed us were to act as rearguard, in case something
went wrong -- I had the distinct impression that if that were to happen,
they wouldn't be coming back with us.  Not that they seemed to care, or
even acknowledge that it had been said.  I felt Makoto's commands ripple
out through the Grid, and the soldiers responded like machines,
following the pair of us in textbook formation.

     That impressed me, even though I knew how it was done.  The
Legionnaires' clockwork precision was accomplished without
communication, none of the muttered commands and hand signals you see
special forces types using in action movies.  Though I couldn't feel it,
I knew they had to be talking to each other through the Grid, the
strange communication net they'd grafted to the base of my skull.  I
still hesitated before touching it.  Looking through someone else's eyes
felt odd, no matter how many times I practiced it.

     Now we were crouched at a rear doorway, looking into the main room
downstairs.  The old man was, presumably, trying to hold back the
implacable advance of the Adept.  From the look of things, it wasn't
going very well.

     He broke his determined stare with a gasp and fell to his knees.
The older woman knelt by him quickly, one arm around his shoulders.

     "It's...it's no good..."  He was panting.  "I can't get through.
Can't even feel him."

     The father shook his head and whispered.  "Ebon God preserve us."

     "We...have to...escape.  Leave this place."

     "But..."

     I stopped listening to them.  I didn't *want* to listen to them.
The young man was staring at the doorway with a fierce expression, ready
to take on the Adept by himself.  After a moment, his sister joined him.

     [Hyde?  Are you there, Hyde?]

     [I'm always here, Tsunami.]

     [What am I going to do?]

     [Kill Makoto first.  Those four guards shouldn't be much trouble.
Flee on foot into the Null Zone -- they'll find us, but it will take
time.  I can show you--]

     [No!  Don't you get it?  They'll kill Kyoko.]

     [Better her than us.]

     [I won't let that happen.]

     [I gave you my advice.]

     [But they want me to kill these people!  I don't even know who they
are...]

     He sounded smug, sneering.  [I warned you.  If you don't break free
of them now, this is where you'll end up.  Just like those clockwork
soldiers.]

     Hyde was right.  I *knew* he was right.  Afterwards, that was what
bothered me -- it wasn't a frenzied, last-minute panic but a conscious
choice.  Cold blood, as they say.  I closed my eyes.

     [If I fight, you...you'll give me power?]

     [I can hardly let us get killed, whatever you choose to do.  But
again, we can get *out* of here...]

     <It's time, Tsunami.  He's exhausted his powers for the moment.>
Makoto kept silent, but her voice echoed through the Grid.  I opened my
eyes, and let Mr. Hyde into my mind with an effort of will.  Power
crackled around me, my black Sa'an uniform erupting in a puff of dark
smoke to be replaced by the stylized school outfit, black-on-white,
complete with a short sword on either hip.  Jupiter was already
transformed; she nodded at me, approvingly.

     <Go.>

     She was moving even as her message arrived, kicking the door open
and coming through shooting.  I followed, feeling once again the sheer
joy of movement my new form carried with it.  No more aches and protests
from tired muscles -- I merely had to think and my body responded
perfectly.  The two swords flashed from their sheathes so fast the steel
was a blur.

     "Jupiter Oak Evolution!"

     The crackling web of electricity was centered on the old man.  One
of the balls caught the father full in the chest, flinging him against
the paper-and-wood wall hard enough to crack it, and the old guy dropped
like a stone wreathed in sparking power.  The mother ducked and rolled
out of the way.  The pair at the doorway whirled and stared at us,
gaping.

     I closed the gap with them, fast but not fast enough.  The boy had
already drawn back into a combat stance, twin blades of sputtering
yellow force filling his hands as fast as thought.  I felt myself laugh
-- *laugh* -- as I closed with him, my swords slashing of their own
accord.  He blocked, easily at first and then desperately, eyes losing
their overconfident stare as he backpedaled furiously.  To my eyes, he
moved as though he'd been coated in tar, and it was the easiest thing in
the world to feint him out of position, then line up a killing thrust.

     I saw the flicker of movement in the corner of my eye just in time
and twisted, taking the girl's kick on the shoulder instead of the side
of the head.  Even that hurt -- I turned around in time to cross my arms
in front of my face and block a furious series of punches.  I could see
the boy catch his breath and circle around his sister.  If they got on
opposite sides of me, I would probably be in trouble, and my newly
granted reflexes reacted.

     The girl came at me again in a series of spinning kicks, which I
ducked and stepped to the side.  When her brother sliced at my head, I
was ready -- I dropped to a crouch and took his legs out from under him
with a sweep.  I turned again as he crashed to the ground to find the
girl charging me, not a wise move, and my sword reversed itself in my
grip as I surged to my feet.

     There was a moment's pause, the brief interlude at equilibrium
before the fall.  The girl was supported on my blade.  I could feel
blood seeping over my hand at the hilt, pressed against her stomach, and
see the very tip of the blade sticking up between her shoulder blades.
As the speed of battle faded, I noticed details.  She had black hair,
running down her back in a complicated braid, and brown eyes that were
filling with tears.  Her clothes were non-descript -- battered sneakers,
jeans, a thin jacket and a T-shirt underneath.  Her mouth worked like a
landed fish, dripping blood from one corner.

     I stepped back, smoothly removing my sword, and she toppled forward
onto her face with a boneless thump.  My body was moving of its own
accord -- I couldn't have stopped it if I'd tried, some tiny inner me
stunned into immobility.  The same reflex let me hear her brother get up
behind me, wild with rage.  He charged with energy blades wide, and I
ducked, spun, and brought both arms cutting across and waist-height.
Blood sprayed my face as he fell, neatly halved by swords that cut flesh
and bone like it was air.

     I straightened up.  Makoto was just finishing -- the older woman's
body jerked as electricity coursed through it, then flopped lifeless to
the floor.  The two men lay in the center of wide, charred circles of
wood.  And that left--

     I turned around, suddenly sick with horror.  The little girl was
still standing where we'd left her, eyes wide in disbelief.  Jupiter
pulled a pistol from her belt, but I noticed her hands were shaking;
before she was halfway to firing position she lowered her head.

     "No."  Her voice was a whisper.  "Gods.  No--"

     <Fly-by-wire engaged.>  New commands rippled through the Grid, and
Makoto was suddenly smiling again.  She brought the gun up, and this
time her aim was certain.  The little girl turned to run, too late, and
then the laser pulse caught her in the back of the head and flung her
forward like a rag doll, spraying bits of bone and blood.

     <Mission accomplished.>

 

     My eyes shot open as soon as consciousness returned, but there was
nothing to see but the darkness of my new quarters.  The dream-memory
still clung to me -- I could feel the shock in my hand as the swords met
flesh.  When I moved my head, I felt embedded in soft rubber.  Compared
to being transformed, everything else was like a slow-motion pantomime.

     Gradually I became aware of my surroundings again, and the dream
started to fade away.  I felt, somewhat to my surprise, the weight of a
warm body on my left.  Kyoko had apparently climbed under my sheets, and
her skin was soft against mine.  I shifted a bit in surprise, and she
blinked and opened her eyes, which went wide as she realized how we were
entangled.

     "Ts..Ts...Tsunami!  You're awake!  This is...I mean..."  She
stopped, and took a deep breath.  "You were shivering.  In your sleep.
I covered you with both our blankets, and you wouldn't stop, so I
thought..."

     I smiled.  "Okay."

     "I don't...I mean, not that I would...but..."

     "Stop."  I held up a hand.  "It's okay."

     "D...do you want me to move?"

     "No."  The girl's expression flickered again in my memory.
Something passed through her eyes as she died.  I wondered what that was
like, and shivered again.  "I'm cold."

 

       I've had morbid thoughts before.  Believe it or not, I wasn't
always a wonderful, cheerful person.  Like so many others, I've been
orphaned; but unlike them, I can't lay the blame at the feet of the
Sa'an.  My parents died in a plane crash two years before the Arrival,
when I was thirteen.  It was six months afterwards before I would speak
to anyone, even Ryu.

     At the time, Ryu was my idol.  He was perfect: a wonderful student,
captain of the soccer team and skilled at any sport you named, popular
with the girls but loyal to his girlfriend, Tami, who'd been our
neighbor for as long as I could remember.  She and my brother grew up
together, and everyone knew they'd end up with each other.  It was fate.

     Even my parents' death didn't shake him.  He grieved, of course,
and bore up under the sadness like a proper young man should.  The rest
of my family, my aunts and uncles and cousins, all took comfort from his
strength.  He would get into the best college, assume my father's
position at the company after graduation.  

     I resented it, a bit; I think it was inevitable.  After all,
especially after the crash, I felt like an afterthought.  No place was
being prepared for me at some great company.  I was smarter than him,
but nobody was in awe of my achievements.  But for all that I worshipped
him as well, in the usual love/hate way of siblings.  I wanted to *be*
him.  Tami and Ryu were engaged in February of the year two thousand, to
be married in the spring, right after graduation.  

     You can imagine how well *that* worked out.  The JSDF's belated,
doomed effort to repel the Sa'an in their black-armored thousands led to
the destruction of most of the city, the one and only time the power of
the Imperial Legions was truly unleashed on civilians.  Tami died trying
to save her family, their whole block blown away in a wash of plasma
fire.  Ryu and I were at home, and we were lucky: our house was outside
the blasted land that would eventually become the lawless Null Zone.
The next day, after what was left of the government announced our
surrender, Imperial troopships descended on the city, rounding up people
by the score in accordance with some arcane selection policy.  Ryu
wasn't taken, and neither was I, but most of his friends marched into
the dropships and were never seen again.

     That, I think, set us on our paths.  For him it was the end of the
world.  He wandered the quickly forming Null Zone, at first looking for
his lost fianc�e but ultimately searching for any companionship.  Once
the Sa'an truly set up shop and began distributing drugs free of charge,
his downward spiral solidified.  I watched him descend with a kind of
detached horror, mixed with a vast amusement.  So much for fate.

     For me, the Arrival was kind of freeing.  I was terrified for a few
days, sure, but when the smoke cleared I realized that I was still
alive, my best friend was still alive, and that everything, the whole
social order I'd hated and adored, had been smashed to pieces.  What was
left of the city maintained some cohesion.  I went to school, had a part
time job, gossiped with Kyoko about boys.  But the cruiser hanging over
the city like the fist of God reminded me daily of the *real* order of
things, who was really in charge of the universe.  Whenever the troopers
rounded up their latest acquisitions, I couldn't help but wonder -- were
they going to be killed?  Brainwashed?  Sacrificed to some dark god?
Or, whispered a voice I couldn't quite suppress, were they going to be
part of something wonderful, to see things I couldn't even imagine?

     It plagued my sleep at night.

 

     I woke up again, much later in the day.  No more dreams.  Kyoko was
still next to me, still asleep, her long green hair released from the
prison of a braid and spread in disarrayed freedom all over the pillow.
I lifted her hand from my shoulder gently, so as not to wake her, and
slipped from under the sheets.  My clothes -- a kind of black robe I'd
found in the room -- were stained with sweat, but I felt surprisingly
good.

     I tried not to think about the tests they'd run last night, and the
few hours in agony before their nerve-enhancing drug had finally worn
off.  Denial is easy if you're practiced enough.  In any case Kaia had
promised the medical exam would be a one time deal.  Now my muscles were
stiff and sore from exertion, and I felt the need to *move*, to work the
kinks out of them.  I wondered briefly if I'd be allowed to use a
training room, or something similar.  The new quarters they'd put us in,
while comfortable, were not really spacious enough for me to move around
in, and in any case I'd wake Kyoko.

     It took me a moment to realize I didn't have to wonder.  I closed
my eyes and let my consciousness expand.

     <Query?]

     <Is there a training room nearby I could use?>

     <Affirmative.  Training room 11-3 is unoccupied.>

     <Can you show me how to get there?>

     <Warning: Question precise but not useful.  Directions follow.>

     I winced.  The Grid, or as it insisted on being precise the natural
language processing sub-section of the Grid, was sometimes difficult to
deal with.  It tended to take questions literally -- luckily, it was
smart enough to often realize what you *meant* to ask, so that 'Can you
show me how to get there?' was not answered with a simple, 'Yes, I can.'
It did, however, insist on reminding you whenever this kind of
interpolation took place, and one could not help but attach a gentle
chiding to these reminders.

     In any case, the path to the training room through the winding
corridors of the cruiser dropped into my mind in a way I was slowly
getting used to.  I checked to make sure Kyoko was still asleep,
stripped off the robe and changed into a uniform, and headed out the
door.  The way was relatively easy, and I nodded to the guards as had
become my habit, even though they never gave the least acknowledgement
of my presence.  The door hissed open in front of me and I stepped into
a large, empty space.

     I went through a few stretches, for the look of thing, before
thinking out loud in a familiar way.

     [Hyde?]

     [Hello, Tsunami.  I note with some dismay that you haven't made any
effort at escaping the Sa'an hold on you.]

     [Would you give that a rest?  It's impossible!  The thing in the
back of my head tracks me the same way they track their troopers -- how
could I possibly escape?]

     [You'd figure out a way, if you really wanted to.]

     That made me catch my breath.  [Hyde...]

     [You have no idea of the irony involved, Tsunami.  For years --
*years* -- I struggled through an instrument that was...inadequate.  And
now you've dropped into my hands, the perfect tool, and you're working
for the wrong side.]

     [How am I the perfect tool?]

     [You killed that girl.]

     [I had to do it.]

     [She was nobody important.  Just a warlock, born into a
magic-wielding family.  The kind of people the Sa'an need to destroy.
But that's irrelevant -- the point is that you did it.  How did it
feel?]

     I closed my eyes, trying to calm my thoughts.  [Horrible.  I
felt--]

     [You're lying.  You felt nothing -- an idle curiosity, no more.]

     [No.]

     [I'm in your head with you, Tsunami.  I *know* you.  You can't lie
to me.]

     [I'm not some cold-blooded murderer!]

     [Not yet.  But you will be.  That's why I chose you, when the other
abandoned her post.]

     "Shut up."  A trickle of cold sweat ran down the back of my neck,
and my limbs ached with the need to *move*, to exorcise whatever-it-was
that sat in my skull like a rock in the murk.  I *pushed*, and the white
light of the transformation flared, uniform wrapping around me like a
comfortable second skin and the weight of the swords on my hips as
familiar as my limbs.

     [It feels good, doesn't it.  Without the power, you feel like
you're crippled, like your arms and legs have been broken.  Can't move,
can't really feel.  But like this--]

     The sword leapt into my hand of its own accord and I gestured,
slashing the air with a shivering hum.

     [Enough.  I'm different when I'm like this, I can feel it.  When I
killed those people, it was your fault -- the transformation *changes*
me.]

     [Only for the better.  It's not a change of substance.  More like a
refinement.  It reveals your true self, you might say--]

     I started to move, to drown him out.  Steel whirled in a complex
dance that came from nowhere, the shivering hum of the blades and my own
soft footfalls on the ground the only sounds.  I pushed it, faster and
faster, the hum rising in pitch until its harmonics only whispered on
the edge of hearing.  The motion of the swords slashed the pale light in
the room into strange patterns of shadow, writhing in agony on the
smooth floor.  Faster still, despite the warning creaks from my muscles
and the sweat that sheathed my skin.

     The hiss of the door signaled the end.  I finished in a crouch,
driving the twin points of the swords into the floor where they stuck,
quivering.  A moment later I sagged onto them, propping myself up on the
hilts, eyes closed, facing the floor.  A river of sweat ran down from my
forehead and dripped off the end of my nose to puddle on the floor.

     [Tsunami.]  There was something in Hyde's voice that I hadn't heard
before.  Not cynicism or derision, but awe.  [Once you accept the truth,
you will be unstoppable.]  I wanted to scream.

     "Tsunami?"

     It took a moment for me to adjust to a human voice, rather than an
internal one.  I recognized Makoto, Sailor Jupiter, before I turned my
head.

     "What?"

     She walked forward, letting the door close behind her.  "I saw you
were in here.  Wanted to see what you were doing.  I hope I'm not
interrupting anything."

     "I was just finishing."

     I stood up, taking the swords with me and returning them to their
sheathes.  Makoto stood near the entrance, in a tight halter top and
shorts -- both black, of course, and more appropriate for exercise than
the fancy uniform, now damp and heavy with sweat.  She noticed my look
and smiled.

     "You can take the uniform off after you transform, you know."

     I let the heightened state fade and found myself back in the Sa'an
outfit, weapons gone.  "I prefer not to."

     "Tsunami..."  She stepped to the side as I stalked to the door.
"You're not still mad about me fighting you the other day, are you?"
Her tone was mocking.

     I was, of course, but I barely slowed.  "Of course not."

     She put an arm in front of the door, blocking my path.  "I was
under orders, you know that.  We had to get you to reveal your powers."

     "I know.  Get out of the way."

     "Anxious for a rematch?"

     I half-turned and watched her eyes.  The mocking was still there,
but there was something--

     "Another time."

     She still didn't move.  "Maybe I shouldn't be so eager.  Judging
from what I just saw, it might go a bit differently this time."  Jupiter
held my gaze.  "Do you think you could kill me, Tsunami?"

     I blinked.  "I'm not in the mood."  I pushed past her arm and
stepped through the door as it hissed open, leaving Makoto behind me.
My breath came hard, and not simply because of the exercise.

     *Pleading*.  That's what I'd seen in her eyes.  'Do you think you
could kill me, Tsunami?'  Not a boast, but a request.

     As I made my way back to my quarters, I wondered why Sailor Jupiter
wanted to die so badly.


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