[FFML] [SM] Sailor Moon 4200: Chapter 14 (part 3 of 4)
Angus MacSpon
macspon at ihug.co.nz
Fri May 28 20:02:16 PDT 2010
<< CONTINUED FROM PART 2 >>
Makoto marched out of the house, her fists clenched. It was quite dark
now, and a thin crescent of silver moon hung in the western sky, just
above the horizon. She stood watching it, so angry that she could
hardly breathe.
They had betrayed her. She knew it was not true, she knew that she was
overreacting in a drastic way, but still that was how she felt. She had
counted on the others, and Seki especially, to be on her side, and they
had failed her, every one. They had chosen Suzue, the invader.
And here Makoto stood, on the outside. It was as if she had been thrown
from her home, all over again. Once more, she was alone. Cast out.
She did not want to cry, but still she felt hot tears of rage and shame
pricking in her eyes.
A sudden scuffling noise, not far away in the darkness, made her jump.
Her heart pounding, she peered around, trying to see. Nothing was
there. After a minute she started to relax -- and then the scuffling
came again, and she saw a dark shape moving on the fence.
"Deimos?" she called in a low voice. "Phobos? Is that you?"
They could not be the original crows, of course, not after all this
time. All the same, there were no other crows around in the area, none
at all, and in her own mind Makoto had privately started to call them
that. Seki refused point-blank to discuss them at all, but she got a
funny smile on her face whenever she saw them. It was all very
mysterious and cryptic, and Seki probably liked it that way.
The dark shape moved again, and gave a single harsh cry. Then it hopped
off the fence and fluttered to the ground, halfway down the path to the
gate. She could see it clearly now, stark black under the ghostly blue
streetlights.
Grumbling to herself, her heart still beating fast from the surprise,
Makoto leaned back against the front door. She closed her eyes, and the
anger and resentment came flooding back in a rush. How could they do
that? How could they stand by someone who was a mockery of everything
the Senshi stood for?
When she opened her eyes, the crow still stood in the path, motionless,
watching her silently.
She eyed it for a long time, and felt the first stirring of curiosity.
What was it doing? Come to think of it, shouldn't it be asleep off in a
tree somewhere?
She looked away sourly, stubbornly ignoring it. Then, with a huff, she
gave in. There always had been something uncanny about Rei's crows,
damn them. She stepped away from the house and started down the path
toward where the bird waited.
It regarded her with a single impenetrable dark eye. As she drew near,
it turned and flew a little distance further away. Somehow, she had
known it would. She followed it again.
Little by little, it led her out of the gate and down the narrow road,
winding its way along the hillside. She followed it grumpily at first,
and then with growing intrigue. She had not been in this direction
before; school was the other way and she had not yet had a chance to
explore. The road was lined with trees, and the streetlights cast only
an intermittent, eerie glow across the way. It was as if she were
walking through a dream.
After a minute or two, the crow suddenly left the road and appeared to
fly up to someone's house. But no; when she reached the spot, she saw
that there was a little alley, almost invisible, that led between two
buildings and away from the street. She paused, uncertain. The crow
watched her. Then, suddenly, she grinned, and carried on. Her dark
mood was almost forgotten now.
The alley wove its way between houses, turning this way and that, and
then began to climb the hill in a series of old, worn stone steps. She
paused at the foot, eyeing them uncertainly. They looked ... almost too
old. Then, with a shrug, she started upward.
The way was steep, and she was soon breathing hard. It was treacherous
going; the steps were slippery with moss. The surrounding buildings
cast a deep shadow over the stairway, too, and at times she had to feel
her way. The going became hypnotic: step, feel; step, feel. Soon, she
had lost all track of time.
And then, suddenly, there was no new step beneath her foot, and she
sprawled forward onto a rough stone surface. She was at the top.
The spell was broken. She climbed to her knees, looking around wildly.
The stairs ended in a gateway that opened into a wide, open courtyard
paved with dark cobblestones, and bordered by a low wall of rough-hewn
blocks. It was dimly lit by the moon, and she could see a marker stone
of some kind in the centre of the area. The crow stood perched on top
of it, watching her silently.
Makoto took a single step toward it, and it sprang up and flew off with
a clatter of wings. She lost it in the darkness almost immediately.
She was alone.
She walked over to the marker post and knelt down to examine it. There
were letters cut into it, old and worn. She traced them with a finger,
but in the dim light she could not make them all out. She could only
read: --DAI. It seemed vaguely familiar, but she could not place it.
Shaking her head, she rose once more and went back to the wall. As she
reached it and looked back down the hill for the first time, her breath
caught. The sight was magnificent. The tallest houses on the hillside
were below the level of the summit, and she had an uninterrupted view
across Third Tokyo, all the way to the distant glimmer of the Archives
Dome at the heart of the city. She was looking down on a vast sea of
twinkling, glittering colour. Never before had it all seemed so
*alive*.
She stood for a while, simply drinking it in. Then, slowly, she found
her eyes lifting, up to the crescent moon, shimmering on the distant
horizon. A reminder of everything she had lost. It had nearly set now;
even as she watched, the lower horn began to dip out of sight.
Her eyes were watering, for no good reason. She blinked the moisture
away, and shifted her gaze. There: a little higher, and more to the
southwest, shining bravely in the night sky. The planet Jupiter.
She watched the stars for a long time.
--**--
The new squabble did not solve anything, of course, though at least it
broke the ice. Artemis grumbled quietly as the girls settled down once
more, but privately he was not dissatisfied. Now, maybe they would be
able to get somewhere.
He waited for a lull and then raised his voice to ask Suzue, "Why did
you hide it?"
The murmur of voices and laughter stopped almost at once. Suzue, who
had taken a seat a little apart from the others, raised her head and
looked back at him without speaking for a second before lifting a hand
to indicate her black eye. "Isn't it obvious?" she asked.
"No," he said curtly. "It's not enough. Liam-san asked you before, but
you didn't really answer. You may be a Senshi, Suzue-san, but are you
part of this team? How can you expect everyone to trust you, when you
hide what you are? *Why* did you hide it?"
She shook her head, and winced at the movement. "People don't like us,
Artemis-sama. Almost everyone. You can't know what it's like. They
break our windows at night, they write graffiti on the walls, sometimes
they do worse things -- two temples were burned down in the last three
years. And at school ..." With a sigh, she said, "So we learn not to
talk about it, that's all. We know what happens when we do. You saw
what Makoto-san thought. Seki-san was nearly as bad, when I first told
her. I think you don't much care for us, either. And Beth-san --" She
turned to look at Beth, who shied away as if from a blow. Suzue
finished sadly, "I think she may be worse than any of you. You just
don't like us; but Beth-san is afraid of us."
Artemis had not noticed that at all, as a matter of fact. Concerned, he
began, "What did --"
"No," she interrupted. "That's ... something for her and me to work out
ourselves, I think. Beth-san --" Addressing the girl directly, she
said, "I am sorry, I truly am. I started to tell you, that day at the
warehouse, but we got interrupted."
Beth said nothing; but after a few seconds she gave a tiny nod, and
looked away.
"Anyway," Suzue went on, "I did tell Seki-san -- back when I found out
who she was. She ... wasn't happy, and after that ..." She took a
deep breath. "I ... I just thought, it would be easier if I didn't ..."
"You knelt down and offered her reverence," said Liam quietly. "How did
it make you feel, doing that?"
Suzue glanced nervously over at Seki. "I ... well, scared, I suppose.
And, um, embarrassed. It didn't really feel real, you know? I mean,
she just seemed so *normal*, it was hard to believe she was one of the
saints --"
Seki cleared her throat meaningfully, and Suzue broke off. Seki nodded,
satisfied. But then Suzue went on: "Not until later -- after I saw her
speaking to the Holy Lady, on Saturday night. After she ... said all
that to Her." Seki's face was clouding over again, and Suzue finished
in an impassioned rush, "After all that, I know better. Now I really
*believe* she's a saint."
"Oh, for --" Seki began in a roar; but she was almost drowned out by
Liam and Dhiti, laughing.
Suzue rose and stepped delicately over to Seki's side. Looking down at
the angry figure, she said, "You are a very holy woman, Seki-san ... and
I'm awfully glad that I met you." Then, before Seki could move, she
bent down and kissed her forehead, before taking a half-step back and
kneeling placidly down on the floor once more.
Seki stared at her, still angry and yet somehow disarmed. Finally she
looked away, grumbling. Artemis shook his head, grumbling himself.
This meeting was a *shambles*.
To his left, he heard Dhiti mutter under her breath, "Saint Seki-sama,"
and giggle. Silently, he groaned.
Across the room, Liam cleared his throat. "So," he said, "is everyone
all right with this? Uh, apart from --"
"I'll talk to Makoto," growled Seki.
"It might be better if I did," he said gently, and after a moment's
thought she nodded. He looked around and said, "And the rest of you?"
"Hey, it doesn't bother *me*," said Dhiti at once. "Kind of nice to see
under that cool exterior, y'know?" She waggled her eyebrows at Suzue,
grinning.
"Ochiyo-san? Beth-san? Iku-san? Bendis-san?"
"Me?" piped up Bendis, surprised. "Er ... I don't mind. I don't
actually see what all the fuss is about, to be honest."
"Suzue-san and I have already talked about it," said Ochiyo. "I don't
have any problems."
"It ... it's okay," said Iku, in a voice just above a whisper. She
looked nervous, Artemis noticed, and kept glancing at her watch.
Liam turned toward Beth. Again, she looked away, her face taut and
expressionless. He waited, and at last she said, in a low, thick voice,
"Oh ... do what you want. You will anyway."
Liam raised his eyebrows and glanced at Artemis, and after a reluctant
pause, he nodded. The cat did not relish the idea of trying to talk the
girl around, not when he halfway agreed with her, but someone had to do
it. The Senshi needed to be a team if they were to have a chance of
defeating the enemy.
Besides, Liam was going to have a much harder time of it, trying to talk
some sense into Makoto.
Artemis looked away from the young man, and saw that Ochiyo was watching
him. She held his eyes, her face unreadable, and then deliberately
glanced around the room and said, "Maybe we should move on."
Seki raised her eyebrows, surprised. "What else did we have to talk
about?"
"Everything!" Ochiyo's lips tightened; then she said, "Saturday night,
to start with."
"Oh, boy," said Dhiti. "Y'know, me and Artemis had a, well, kind of
discussion about that, and --"
"Discussion!" Artemis snorted.
"Hey, I apologised, didn't I? ... Eventually?"
"Do you two mind?" inquired Seki.
"Ah --"
"Saturday night was a mistake," said Artemis bluntly. "I'm sorry,
Princess, but it's a fact. Going to 'M' Division was foolish. It did
nothing but give the Council ammunition against you."
Ochiyo's eyes narrowed. "I'm not convinced," she said. "I think it did
a lot of important things for us. It put us on the offensive, for one
thing. Isn't it better to be acting, than reacting? We should be
trying to carry the fight to the enemy, not waiting for them to attack
us. For another thing, it told the Council that we know what they're
doing, and we're not going to let them get away with it."
"But we *don't* know what they're doing," pointed out Seki.
"We know that they're creating giant monsters, and working with the evil
that destroyed Crystal Tokyo. Isn't that enough?"
"Not enough to let us carry the fight to the enemy," said Artemis
bluntly. "A little practical data would help there. In the meantime,
you've let them paint you as a bunch of delinquent hooligans! They
haven't publicly said that it was you who did it, not yet, but how long
do you think it will be before word gets out about that idiotic
carve-your-name-in-the-wall trick?" (Suzue flinched.) "What are people
going to think of you then?"
"I don't much care," said Ochiyo, to his surprise. Her voice was
perfectly calm, but her eyes flashed. As he gaped at her, she went on,
"It doesn't matter what people think of us. We're not here to win
popularity contests. We're here to fight the enemy, and keep them from
destroying the world again. *That's* what matters."
Artemis stared at her, his mouth opening and closing silently several
times. At last he began, "But don't you see --"
"Anyway," Ochiyo overrode him ruthlessly, "that's not what I wanted to
talk about. You say you want some hard data about the enemy? Here's
some hard data." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a pair of
items, setting them down on the floor in front of him. "So, what do
these tell us?" She looked him in the eye and waited. The challenge
was unmistakable.
Artemis did nothing at first; he simply looked back at her, considering.
Finally, with a mental shrug, he looked down. Bendis was already nosing
the two objects, and he nudged her away so he could get a better look.
A mock-leather wallet, first. He opened it with one paw and saw an ID
card inside, for one Kasamatsu Amane of something called the Technical
Enforcement Network. Neither name meant anything to him.
The other item was a long, narrow sliver of crystal, the size of a human
finger. That one needed no further explanation.
"The ID card was in a pile of clothes in Itsuko-san's office," said
Ochiyo quietly. "Seki-san's, I mean. I'm guessing that those crystal
things, the vitrimorphs, were in human form to start with, and then
changed. Is that right?"
"Yes," said Seki. She bent and picked up the wallet, studying it
closely. The other girls crowded around her to look over her shoulder.
"They looked human enough at first ... though they acted oddly." She
narrowed her eyes in thought. "'Technical Enforcement Network.' That
'S' Division captain mentioned it, too. One of them gave him his ID,
and he said he'd never heard of it."
"Maybe," murmured Beth, "we should be investigating this Technical
Enforcement Network."
"By which you mean me," grumbled Dhiti. "More computer work. Yay."
"All right," said Artemis reluctantly to Ochiyo. "You may have
something there. But what about the crystal? We've seen more than
enough of it by now, I assure you."
She shrugged. "That's for Dhiti-san, too. I was thinking: what *are*
these vitrimorphs? Where do they come from? Maybe if she can analyse
the crystal, she can --"
"Uh," said Dhiti. "I hate to break it to you, Ochiyo-san, but ... you
know, I'm not exactly an expert with that computer thing. Er, kind of
the opposite, really."
Ochiyo cocked an eye at her, and said, "You seemed to do pretty well on
Saturday night."
"Yeah, but --" Dhiti sighed. "Why can't someone else be the computer
expert? I don't even like the things! And anyway --" She broke off,
looking uncomfortable.
"Yes?" inquired Seki.
"Well ... actually, I tried analysing a piece of one of those things
already, a few weeks ago." She twisted nervously, and would not meet
anyone's eyes. "But it wasn't any use; the computer just started giving
me a lot of crazy talk. In the end I had to give up."
Artemis gave the girl a suspicious look. "What sort of crazy talk?"
"Oh, what does it matter?" she snapped. "I don't even remember! Some
kind of nonsense about shellfish and cobwebs."
Seki snorted. "You must have done something wrong."
"Yeah, well, maybe you should try it, then!"
Artemis studied her thoughtfully. You had to be careful with Dhiti.
She was very good at distracting you when she didn't want to do
something; and he was getting the idea that, whatever she had found, it
had bothered her for some reason.
"We could try it again," he suggested casually. "I'll help. I saw Ami
using the computer, often enough. Maybe together, we can work out what
it was talking about."
"Oh, but -- no -- I mean --"
He watched her flounder, and thought with real surprise, and not a
little dread, that she was actually going to take him up on the offer.
(He was no better with computers that she professed herself to be.
Possibly worse.) But just as he was about to speak up once more, she
turned her head away, closed her eyes, and said in a low voice:
"Daimons."
"What!" He froze, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Seki do the
same. "What did you say?"
"Daimons," said Dhiti. She would not look up, but her voice was clear.
"It ... the computer said there were patterns in the crystal that
matched Daimon traits. And human DNA. And ... and star alignments."
"Stars?" said Ochiyo, her tone incredulous.
"Yeah." Dhiti looked up and tried to grin. It looked ghastly. "The
stars as they were, two million years ago."
A long pause followed. Then Suzue said, "But that's absurd."
"You think I don't *know* that?!"
"I mean, how could you possibly think --"
Artemis let them argue, not really listening. The ghost of a memory was
pricking at him. Something about what Dhiti had said ... He tried, but
it would not come. He shook his head, disgruntled; and from the corner
of his eye, he saw Iku's lips moving silently.
He padded over to her and looked up into her face, normally so shuttered
but for once half-open as she wrestled with a problem outside her own
mysterious woes. He said, "What is it?"
She started, and shied away from him automatically. Artemis made a
mental note, for the dozenth time, to look into what was making her so
timid. Was she being bullied at school? Gently, he repeated, "What is
it? Did you think of something?"
"Oh -- no, I didn't -- it's not important --" He waited patiently as
she stammered, until in the end, under his patient look, she gave in and
whispered, "Human DNA."
He cocked his head to one side. "What about it?"
"I -- I was just thinking. Were they human once? A-are we murderers,
every time we kill one?" She wilted under the shocked look he gave her,
and added, "I'm sorry -- I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't interrupt.
Please ..."
Seki had come over as she spoke, and now the older woman touched her
shoulder. Iku fell silent instantly, and her whole body seemed to
tense. Looking down at Artemis, Seki said, "It's a good question."
"I know," he answered. "That Kasamatsu Amane -- did he die on Saturday
night? Did we kill him? But what else can we do, Seki?"
Dhiti and Suzue had stopped arguing, unnoticed behind them. Now Suzue
said, "Here's a better question. Was Kasamatsu Amane a vitrimorph -- or
did someone turn him *into* a vitrimorph? Because if they did, then
they were the ones who killed him. Not us."
Glancing back at Dhiti, she added, "Maybe you really should be looking
up that Technical Enforcement Network, Dhiti-san."
--**--
The meeting broke up after that. Everyone had run out of things to say.
Over the general milling around as everyone got up and stretched, Seki
offered them drinks and snacks. Most of the girls accepted happily, but
Iku did not stay. She looked at her watch again, flinched, and then
hurried away with no more than a breathless whisper to Ochiyo: "I'm
sorry -- I have to go ..."
Ochiyo watched the door close behind her with puzzled amusement. She
said, to nobody in particular, "She must get a lot of homework, right?"
Nearby, Dhiti answered, "I don't know; she's always like that. It's a
mystery." Raising her voice, she said, "Hey, Beth-chan -- you're her
friend at school, right? What's the story? What's her problem?"
Beth looked around, jarred out of some private musing. "Who, Iku-san?
Um, I'm not sure. She hardly ever says anything at school, either.
It's kind of weird. Actually --" Her eyes lost focus for an instant.
"Wha-- now that *is* weird."
"What?"
"Nana-- that is, another girl at school. The other day, out of the
blue, she suddenly told me I should ask Iku-san about her puppy. I'd
almost forgotten about that."
"She has a dog?" said Ochiyo. "Maybe she had to go home to feed it."
"Huh," muttered Bendis audibly. "Who in their right minds would want a
puppy?"
Beth rolled her eyes. "Well, they are popular, you know."
"Oh, please. All they do is yap all day and piddle on the carpet. If
*I* did that, you wouldn't think it was cute."
"It's quite an endearing picture, though," said Dhiti with a grin. "If
you decide to try it, be sure to let me --" She paused, and the smirk
faded from her face. "Huh. Now *that's* weird."
"Oh, now what?" inquired Ochiyo, clearly amused.
"Well ... I dreamed about her the other night. Saturday night, as a
matter of fact. Iku ... with a puppy."
Imperceptibly, Ochiyo paused. Her eyes narrowed. "You had an odd dream
on Saturday night?"
"Uh -- yeah, well, don't put too much stock in it. I also dreamed she
was dressed as Sailor Mercury."
"Ri-i-ight." Ochiyo looked relieved, for some reason. She grinned.
"Wishful thinking?"
"As if! You're not getting rid of me that easily, Ochiyo-san." Dhiti's
eyes glinted, and she glanced down at the tabby cat as she said, "Tell
you what, though. She can wear a Mercury costume when she sings
karaoke. In honour of my victory over Bendis."
"Oh, now this sounds interesting," Ochiyo said over the indignant
sputtering of the cat, and leaned forward in a conspiratorial manner.
"Tell me more."
--**--
Beth turned away as the two of them began plotting together, and went
back for more snacks. It had not, on the whole, been a good evening,
and she was looking forward to leaving. In a few minutes. After she'd
tried a couple more takoyaki.
They had probably been made by Makoto, she reflected as she munched
happily a few seconds later. But that thought brought the whole
unpleasantness back, and she grimaced as if at a bad taste. She
wondered where Makoto had gone. Surely she wouldn't have done anything
drastic? Maybe someone should have gone after her, as Dhiti had
suggested. Or maybe Beth should call and say how much she agreed --
She felt a touch at her elbow, and turned to see Suzue. Involuntarily,
she froze.
"We ought to talk," said Suzue.
Beth pulled her arm free. "What's to say?" she said dully. "Everyone
thinks it's perfectly all right, so what does it matter?"
"Beth, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, and I'm sorry some idiot
from the Church tried to give you reverence and scared you. I really
am. But there's no way I can make it up to you, and I ... I can't
change who I am. I *won't* change it."
Beth was silent.
"He *was* an idiot, that man," Suzue persisted. "I mightn't have
thought so once, but ... well, what you said to me the other day, at the
warehouse, it made me think. What if my family found out what I am, and
bowed down to *me*? And --" She made a face. "I thought how horrible
that would be."
"You bowed down to Seki-san," said Beth petulantly.
"Yes, and she didn't like it very much either," Suzue retorted. She
shot Beth a sidelong glance and said, with a touch of asperity, "Rest
assured, I have no plans to bow down to *you*."
"Good!" The two of them stared at each other defiantly for a long
moment -- until, with a sigh, Beth shook her head and looked away. "I
just don't understand," she said, suddenly tired of the whole subject.
"How can you believe all that stuff?"
Suzue shrugged. "You saw her, on Saturday night," she said. "She died,
seven hundred years ago, and yet she was there. And you saw what she
was like. Beth-san, what I don't understand is why you *don't*
believe?"
"Because --" Beth had to fumble for a reply. It was not something she
had ever thought about. "Because what would that make me?" she asked.
It was the best she could come up with on the spot. "I'm not a saint
... or a goddess."
"Neither am I," answered Suzue slowly. "I think we've been chosen by
her, that's all. To act in her name -- in the name of the moon. And on
behalf of the planet Venus, and Uranus ... and all the rest. And that's
*more*, do you see? More than saints; *Senshi*."
"I don't know ..."
"Look, I do it because I believe that we're fighting in a holy cause; I
truly do. But *you* do it because you know how vital what we do is;
because somebody *must* act, and you're the one who *can*. If anything,
that makes you a lot more heroic than me."
That was not exactly why Beth was acting as a Senshi. It was more that,
once she had been given her powers, she could not imagine *not* being a
Senshi. It was like living out all her fantasies, all at once. But she
did not say that. She said, "Uh ... thanks."
"Beth-san, don't you see? I believe what I believe, but I'm not asking
you to believe it too. That would be nice ... but I don't expect it.
All I ask is that you not reject me just because you disagree with me.
Is that fair?"
Put like that, of course, it was hard to say no. All the same, Beth did
not want to agree. She still felt a little betrayed; and, worse, she
felt as if she were being asked to go along with something she knew was
wrong, just for the sake of harmony. It was hard to accept.
[Minako-sama, what am I supposed to do?] she thought. But of course
there was no reply.
She found herself studying the girl before her. Black eyes or not,
there was nothing but sincerity in her face. And that was the essential
problem, in a nutshell: Suzue believed everything she was saying. Faced
with that kind of blind certainty, what was there to do? Nothing Beth
could say was going to deflect her. Argument was futile, rationality a
lost cause ... and the policeman in her memory, kneeling before her with
his bright, mad eyes and kissing her hand, had won after all.
But then a memory came to her. The two of them on Saturday night, in
the workshop at 'M' Division: Venus cheerfully smashing whatever she
could, and Uranus offering suggestions over her shoulder as she wreaked
her own more careful destruction. Working together.
And another: at Zarigani Mall, a week ago, as she swung across the
shattered concourse to escape an avalanche of falling debris, heading
straight toward the vitrimorph that waited to kill her -- only to see it
leap away at the last instant, from the attack of the slender, elegant
figure who stepped forward to greet her as she landed. Invited by a new
millennium: Sailor Uranus, acting gracefully. Saving Beth's ass.
Did it really matter all that much what Suzue believed? Really?
"I still think you're wrong," she said in a low voice.
Suzue's lips twitched. "You're not the only one," she answered. And
then smiled, and added: "But I can live with that."
Hesitantly, Beth allowed herself to smile in return.
--**--
Ochiyo broke away from Dhiti when she and Bendis started arguing.
(Really, the young cat was adorable! But very defensive in some ways.
There seemed to be a rift of some kind between her and Artemis. Ochiyo
would have to ask, sometime.) She headed over to the snacks table, but
saw that Beth had just finished the last one.
Grinning, she turned away again, and nearly banged into Seki, who was
standing nearby. "Sorry," she said.
"My fault," answered Seki. She eyed Ochiyo thoughtfully and said,
"You've been taking all of this rather well."
"Not really." Ochiyo shrugged. "I've known *something* was happening
for a while, remember? And it's been -- what, nearly two weeks? Since
*her* ghost came and gave me my henshin wand. I've had a bit of time to
get used to the idea."
"Even so." Seki paused, and said, "I've been trying to think of a
casual way to ask how things have been going at the Olympus since I ...
left."
"Hah. Okay, I guess." Ochiyo made a face. "I'm probably going to have
to give up the late shifts, though."
"Oh? Why?"
"Well ... I can't really sleep over in your apartment any more."
"Oh! I should have thought of that." Seki grimaced. "It's not that
I'd mind. But you're probably right; it would attract attention. You
could just catch the late bus home, you know. On the weekends, at
least."
"I suppose so." That was something that *Ochiyo* hadn't thought of.
"My mother wants me to quit the job, anyway," she added. "She got
nervous when she heard about, well, everything."
Seki snorted. "How're the staff taking it?"
"They're wondering what's happening. 'P' Division searched your office
a couple of times, but they won't tell *us* anything."
"Not 'P' Division," said Seki absently. "It'd be 'S', I should think."
"Really? Wow." Ochiyo thought for a moment, and then said, "Yukimi-san
thinks it's proof that you're an international criminal on the run."
"Ha." Seki shook her head, looking sour. "In a sense, that's almost
true."
"Not the way *she* means it," muttered Ochiyo. "But she's always like
that, always! Why do you keep her on, anyway?"
Seki gave her a cool look, and Ochiyo suddenly remembered that she was
talking to her employer. "Because she is competent," said Seki, her
voice flat; "and whatever you may think of her, schadenfreude is not a
firing offence."
"Scha--? I don't know what that means."
"Hmph." With a twisted half-smile, Seki said, "You might say that it's
Yukimi-san's raison d'etre."
"Is that some foreign language?" asked Ochiyo suspiciously.
Seki laughed quietly. "Ochiyo-chan, go home. It's getting late."
"Oh -- all right. Good night, Seki-san." Ochiyo looked away, grinning
to herself, and went over to collect the other girls. She saw Liam move
over to speak quietly to Seki, and nodded farewell to him. He nodded in
reply.
In a couple of minutes, Ochiyo was walking down the path to the gate
with Beth, Suzue and Dhiti. Dhiti was chattering, naturally, and the
others were listening more or less patiently. For herself, Ochiyo was
still mulling over what she had carefully not said to Seki: that nobody
was getting paid at the Olympus any longer, and the gymnasium was not
likely to keep going much longer. There was nothing Seki could do about
that without going back, so why bring it up?
A thought occurred to her, and she suddenly said to the other girls, "I
don't suppose any of you know anything about accounting?"
They fell silent, looking at her in surprise. Dhiti, and then Suzue,
shook their heads; and just when she was sure that her idea would come
to nothing, Beth said, "Um ... I've read a bit about it. Why?"
Ochiyo grinned. "Great! I'll give you a call tomorrow, Beth-chan.
There's something you might be able to help me with."
--**--
They parted and went their separate ways. In a few minutes, Suzue was
sitting on a bus, rubbing what was probably going to be her second black
eye. It occurred to her, in a distant corner of her mind, that the
Senshi were supposed to heal fast. Perhaps if she were to try sleeping
as Sailor Uranus tonight? But what if her parents came in and caught
her?
Most of her attention, though, was on another thought. About Liam,
earlier tonight. When he had helped her up, he had been polite, but at
the same time coolly condescending. It wasn't until she stood up to him
and told him he was wrong that he had started to respect her.
Come to think of it, Itsuko had been the same way. And Haruka too, as a
matter of fact, in her dream. None of them would accept subservience.
It was something to keep in mind, perhaps, the next time she met Makoto.
But there was more to it than that. For years, Suzue had lived keeping
a low profile: hiding what she was, or at least not drawing attention to
it. And the others at school -- how many of them ever accepted her?
They pointed their fingers at the weirdo, the Loonie, in secret, and
damn few of them ever gave her any respect.
[I know what it costs you to maintain your beliefs,] said the Blessed
Lady in her memory, [but Suzue, that does not excuse you, does it?]
And also: [If you value your beliefs, you need to be prepared to fight
for them.]
Could it be that keeping a low profile was a bad idea? Perhaps it was
time to try holding her head high. She might take some lumps for it,
yes, but ... maybe she should start standing up for herself.
Whatever the cost.
--**--
Inside the house, Liam said to Seki, "Let me find her. Seeing you right
now might set her off again."
Seki made a face. "I suppose so." Shaking her head, she said, "This
whole thing is pretty messed-up, isn't it? I mean, she's way over the
line, yes ... but I can see where she's coming from."
Liam chuckled. "I can see where they're both coming from. Don't worry,
Rei-chan. I'll try and smooth things down a little."
He made his farewells and left quietly. Outside, he walked down to the
gate and stood quietly for a minute, thinking. Now, where might Makoto
have gone?
He closed his eyes and gradually let his senses extend. He had never
been a warrior in past lifetimes, not the way the girls were. He could
fight when he needed to, yes, but his real powers and talents lay in
other directions. Psychometry; healing; those he could do.
Now, he tried to open his mind and let the impressions come. It was not
a telepathic contact that he sought; nothing so crude. Rather, he was
trying to sense the world itself: the flows and patterns of events; the
ghostly touch of the innumerable threads of fate as they endlessly wove
and reshaped themselves around the countless branchings and decisions
that the Earth made, each and every instant. Every single thing that
happened, ever, was part of that flow, from the fall of a speck of dust
... to the movements of an angry girl as she stormed out into the night.
This was not something he had done before, not consciously; but it was,
in a way, an extension of a sense that he already had: that delicate,
instinctive knowledge of when those he loved were in danger. He had a
special connection to the world's soul; to Elysion. He hoped that it
would be enough.
He stood for a long time, eyes still closed. The evening was quiet and
still; the sounds of traffic a few blocks away did not impinge upon his
senses at all. He let the darkness and the silence sink into him until
he could feel nothing but the night.
When he opened his eyes again and looked about, it was as if he were
seeing a different world. The street he stood in had not changed, but
somehow it seemed to have gained more ... depth. It was more *real*
than it had been before; as if he had only ever seen it in two
dimensions, but now he could see the third. The world around him was
more vivid; it had more colour, and weight.
He gazed all around him with a quiet sense of wonder, delighted with his
new discovery. He played with it, to start with. Then, after a little,
he became gradually aware that, as his head turned, his eyes kept
catching in a particular direction. There was nothing visible to
distinguish it; rather, in a way he could not quite pinpoint, it seemed
to feel more ... attractive? No; more fitting. More *right*.
Nodding to himself, he turned and started to walk slowly down the
street. He did not try to watch where he was going; he was simply
moving in a direction that somehow felt better than any other. After a
little, he realised that he was even setting his feet down carefully, in
particular spots. Places where someone else had stepped, perhaps. He
wondered if someone watching him would think that his stride matched
that of a teenaged girl.
After a little, still following his ghost path, he found himself turning
into a narrow alleyway that led between two houses and up the hill. He
did not make the turn consciously; again, it was simply a direction that
felt better. All the same, as he moved onward, he became gradually
aware that there was something else here, too. Something odd: as if he
were coming to a place that he knew from long ago.
The alley became a flight of stone steps that led up the hill, turning
this way and that. Liam did not hurry; indeed, the world he moved
through was so timeless and still that the idea of haste seemed obscene.
But at last, an indefinable period later, the steps ended in a wide,
open area, paved with close-fitting stones and bounded by a low wall. A
marker post stood in the centre, and he stepped forward to look at it.
The name carved into it was so worn that it was almost indecipherable,
but with the strange acuity of his vision he could make out the letters
clearly: SENDAI. And then, finally, he understood the sense of
familiarity he had felt -- and even why Rei had chosen this place, above
all others, for a bolt-hole when she had had to flee the Olympus. After
so many years, she had come home.
Smiling to himself, he straightened and let his otherworldly perception
fall away. The ordinary, everyday universe snapped back into focus
around him, and he blinked. The night was far darker than it had seemed
moments before. And, not far away, a figure was standing, silhouetted
against the lights of the city.
"Mako-chan," he said.
"Endymion," she said in return. "Come to fetch me back?"
He had expected her to sound bitter, angry; even tearful. Instead, her
voice held only a quiet wistfulness.
"Came to see if you're all right," he replied. Then: "It's ... peaceful
up here."
"Yes," came her voice, peculiarly distant in the night. He wished he
could see her better. "I've been watching the stars. They never used
to be this bright, in the old days."
Liam laughed softly. "No air pollution from millions of oil-burning
cars," he said. "They were this bright in Crystal Tokyo, but after the
first century or so we didn't often stop to look, did we? We took it
for granted."
"And in the Silver Millennium, too," she returned. "But back then,
people looked. They always looked."
He wanted to follow that up -- his own memories of the Silver Millennium
were so faint and fleeting -- but sensed that it would be a mistake to
get distracted. He said, "The others were worried about you, you know."
There was silence for a second. Then Makoto said, "I'm sure."
"Really," he insisted. "You were rather ... overpowering back there.
You scared me, a little."
He heard a dry chuckle. "Not *you*."
"Mako-chan, you can't run away from the issue forever."
Again, she was silent. When she finally answered, it was with a bitter
resignation. "Damn you, anyway. I just got calmed down and you're
trying to get me angry all over again. Can't you let this be?" He
waited, silent, and at last she said, "I'm not going to stand for it;
that's all. You tell them that. I'm not going to accept it. Endymion,
you know how -- how revolting it is, what she believes. You know how
Usagi would have hated it. How upset she would have been."
"I know," he said, "that Usako would not have attacked her. Or run away
from her."
She snorted. "So what do you want me to do? Smile sweetly at her and
say, 'Oh, Suzue-chan, your religion makes a mockery of my entire life,
but that's okay, I'm just happy you're sincere. Let's be friends!'? I
don't think so."
Liam came close to losing his own temper. "Fine, then," he snapped.
"You refuse to accept her? Then don't. But, Mako-chan, she *is* a
Senshi, whether you accept that or not." She started to speak, but he
cut her off ruthlessly. "So *work* with her, damn it! Nobody's asking
you to approve of her beliefs, no one says you should be happy about it,
but if you can't work alongside her in a ... a professional way, then
she's twice the Senshi you are."
Makoto stared back at him, and even in the darkness he could feel the
coldness of her gaze. "Is that all you've got to say?" she ground out.
"No. I've spoken to her, and ..." He hesitated, knowing what her
reaction would be, but said it anyway. "She's not a bad person,
Mako-chan. Whatever she may believe about Serenity, whatever rubbish
her church may have filled her head with, it doesn't make her a bad
person."
He expected a new eruption, but instead she did not answer for a long
time. When she did, her words were so low, almost a whisper, that he
had to strain to hear. "Don't you think I know that?"
His head snapped back, his eyes widening. "What? But --"
"Oh, damn it, don't you think I *know* that already?" she said, more
strongly. "I've known her longer than you, Endymion. Do you really
think I can't see that she's one of us? But then she suddenly hits us
with this, and it's -- God, I don't know what to think any more! She --
she was supposed to be a sister Senshi, she was almost my friend ... but
she stands for something I *despise*, something I just hate so much, and
she's *proud* of it! And I don't know how to take that. I can't ...
see a way past it, do you understand? I don't know whether to love her
or hate her. All I can see is the betrayal. All I can see --" Her
voice broke suddenly. "All I can see is my father, that look in his
eyes. And ... and I finally understand why he had to throw me out. He
couldn't see the way past, either."
She was crying, he realised. He did not quite understand the reference
to her father, he knew that she had been disowned but not the full
story, but that could wait. He stepped forward and took her in his
arms, and she buried her face in his shoulder and clung to him.
A long time passed. He held her, there in the darkness, and felt his
shoulder grow wet with her tears, though she never made a sound. At
last, some indefinable time later, he felt her arms slacken, and he
released her gently. She withdrew from him, and the two stood in
silence for a minute longer.
"Go on," she said quietly. "Go on back down. Tell them I'll be fine.
Tell them I'll -- I'll find a way to work with her." She took a deep
breath, and let it out. "Somehow."
"I can stay, if you'd rather," he offered.
"No. You go back. It's late, and I --" She paused, and he heard an
odd, quiet wistfulness in her voice. "I just want to watch the stars
for a while longer."
He nodded and turned away, walking back down the path toward the real
world. The last he saw of her, as he glanced back just before she
disappeared behind the bulk of the hill, was a slender, dark figure
silhouetted against the night sky, her head raised and her eyes focused
upon the distant twinkle of the planet Jupiter.
--**--
After Iku made her excuses and escaped from the meeting, she headed down
the path and along the street at a dead run. Her ankle throbbed with
every step, but she ignored it. She was late, late, so very late, and
she knew the consequences. Oh, she knew.
At the bus stop, she waited in frantic, fretful silence for her bus. It
arrived in less than five minutes, but it could not have come soon
enough. On board, she checked her watch again and again as she rattled
her way toward home, but it gave the same damning answer every time.
At the last, as she walked the final hundred metres toward her house,
her feet dragged, trying to stave off the inevitable. But sooner or
later, she had no choice. Nowhere else to go.
When she opened the front door, Mother was waiting. Iku stepped inside,
removed her shoes, and knelt down, head bowed, hands clenched in her lap
against what was coming.
Shark-like, Mother smiled down at her.
--**--
At school the next day, Beth waited patiently at the gate for Iku until
the bell rang. There were things she wanted to talk about.
But Iku never arrived at school. Not on Thursday.
****************
It was a little after noon on Thursday, by M's reckoning, when they
finally came to talk to her. Her wrist-pad would have told her exactly,
but they had taken that away from her. She had not fought too hard.
She could make a new one, if she needed to.
She had been held for the last three days in a comfortable room that she
could almost have mistaken for a hotel, though it had been a long time
since she had seen one of those. The door was locked, naturally, but
there was a large picture window so she could look down across the city.
It had changed a lot in the two decades since she had seen it last.
Much more interesting to her than the view was the viddy set. They had
had no reason not to give her one, she supposed; they had probably not
even thought about it. But she had spent most of the last three days in
front of the set, watching avidly.
Much of what she saw was trash, of course: soap operas, detective shows,
meaningless dramas, children's programs laden with advertising for the
latest toys. But it was all useful; she drank it in voraciously. She
had been a prisoner down in the Council's dungeon for a long time, and
while she had been able to deduce certain things from the demands they
made of her, still she was twenty years out of date. That was a long
time, in a rapidly developing era. She had no interest in the stories
she watched now, but the cultural context they gave her was exactly what
she needed. Every new program was a fresh glimpse of the way the modern
world worked.
One show did make her pause. It was an anime, apparently aimed at young
teens, called 'Queen Serenity and her Senshi'. She watched it all the
way through, stunned, and then laughed and laughed and laughed.
News programs and documentaries were more directly useful to her, of
course: up-to-date information about what was happening in the world
around her. She was in the middle of one when the Sankaku arrived.
There were six of them: four men and two women. She gave a little nod
as they came in; she had made a bet with herself that the number of
people would be a multiple of three. Two representatives from each
clan; it seemed that they took the division seriously. They even stood
a little apart from one another. That was useful information, too.
"Good afternoon," she said politely. "Can I help you?"
It made them pause, as she had intended. They recovered fast, though.
"That remains to be seen," said one of the men, a man in his thirties
with a clear, open face. "What should we call you?"
"Oh, just 'M' would be fine, dear," she said easily. "Or you could say
'Emma' if you prefer." Before he could answer, she looked around the
room and added, "Three sides to the Sankaku, hmm? Shinpo, Niji and
Paradise clans. Well, Shinpo and Niji are clear enough. Weren't the
old Rainbow and Progressive Parties in opposition, back before the Act
of Amalgamation created the Serenity Council in '13? The only one I
can't work out is the Paradise Clan."
She had struck gold, she saw at once. The consternation in their faces
was almost laughable, it was so easy to read. One of the men recovered
a little faster than the others and said, with a growl, "You know too
much."
"And still in opposition today, I see," she said with a nod. "Oh, don't
start posturing, dear, it makes you look smaller. Why don't we sit down
and chat, instead?"
She took one of the three chairs before any of them moved, sitting down
primly and favouring them with a smile. After a long delay, the young
man and one of the women took the other chairs. Two more of them sat on
the bed.
One of the men who remained standing, a massive bear of a man with a
rich, deep voice, said, "Are you really who you claim to be? One of the
Council's secret brain trust?"
"Well, I could claim to be anybody, dear," she said, enjoying herself
immensely.
"I know that," he said, imperturbable, and her respect for him rose a
notch. "But I want to hear you say it."
"All right, then. I am not *one* of the Council's secret brain trust.
I *am*, myself, the brain trust. Just me." She paused for a heartbeat
and added, "But you already knew that, of course. Otherwise you
wouldn't have come here; not the leaders of the Sankaku."
"The device you brought with you was ... persuasive," he admitted.
"Have you broken it yet," she asked, "taking it apart to see how it
works?"
The bear chuckled. "Not quite. Young Nakada, the man you approached,
stopped them tinkering too much. He says he has an idea of how you did
it."
"Does he, now?" she murmured. "Yes, I thought he had a brain or two. I
picked the right one to go to."
One of the women, a petite lady in her fifties who must have been
stunningly beautiful in her youth, said, "And how did you know who to go
to? Why have you come to us at all?"
"Oh, that's easy. I cracked your comms net quite some time ago, dear.
Just like you cracked the Opal net, a few days ago."
A fresh shocked pause. "The Council's cracked our communications?" said
the one who'd tried to threaten her. "Shit, they'll be on us like a ton
of bricks."
"If they've done it at all," said the small lady sharply. "We have only
her word for it."
"No, not the Council," said M. "Just me." She let that sink in and
added, "I haven't told anyone about it, you see. Any more than I told
them when you cracked OpalNet. That was quite cleverly done, by the
way."
"Why not?" asked the bear. "Why *have* you come to us?"
"To help you," she snapped back. "They held me prisoner for years, down
in their little underground tomb. Threatened me. Made me work for
them. Did you know that Monday was the first time in twenty years that
I've seen the sun? Well, no more! You want to bring them down -- and
that suits me fine. I want -- I want my revenge. And if you want help,
there's no one who can do it better."
There was a short silence in the room. She had let her mask drop, M
realised; they had glimpsed the rage in her. Well, so be it.
"Perhaps," said the bear at last. He gave her an unexpectedly
penetrating look, but only repeated, "Perhaps."
"Can you crack the rest of their internal communications?" asked the one
who'd threatened her. There was still doubt in his voice, but his eyes
gleamed with a hint of excitement. "Can you help us make our own net
more secure? Can you --"
"Why think so small?" said M, allowing a patronising tone to enter her
voice. "I can do ever so much more for you than that."
He hesitated. Before he could reply, the small lady said sharply, "I
believe we'd like to see some proof of that."
M smiled at her. "Of course, dear. I'll be happy to show you what I
can do." Her smile widened. "And then there's a little something that
you can do for me in return."
****************
Wright Mark took the long route home from school. The long route, in
this case, led directly away from the apartment he shared with Liam, and
into the Hissomori district. He got off the bus and walked for a short
time, stopping at the entrance to a narrow, tree-lined street that wound
its way along the side of a hill with an ancient name.
He stood there for a while, staring down the street, without moving.
Miyo was there, not far away. Miyo who was now calling herself Hiyama
Makoto ... and who, beyond all probability, had turned out to be Sailor
Jupiter herself. He had heard it clearly, and Liam had confirmed it
later.
And she was just down the street there, not two minute's walk. Now that
he knew her assumed name, she had been easy enough to find. He hovered
there, on the brink of advancing ... trying to convince himself that she
would not turn him away.
A Senshi. He had been trying to woo a Senshi. One of the legendary
Serenity's own protectors! No wonder she had turned him down so firmly.
"Man," he said with bitter self-mockery, "when I screw up I don't do it
small, do I?"
And yet, not so long ago there had been times when she had seemed, well,
not uninterested. Up until his mistake in letting out the news that she
had been disowned, the two of them had gotten on rather well. Had that
all been a pretence, then?
The truth was, he had set his sights too high; that was all there was to
it. And it was not as though he did not have other options. That girl
he had met the other day, Beth; she seemed nice enough, friendly, and
approachable. And at least she was normal.
And yet, there he was, looking down the street toward Makoto's house;
and when he turned away at last, it was not because he had given up. It
was because he was not ready. Or she was not. Or maybe both of them.
Certainly not because his courage had failed him at the last moment.
****************
How to probe the mind of a monster?
Lady Blue knelt in utter darkness. The attention of the Master was
elsewhere, for now, and in its absence the shell of Araki Mamiko, Number
Twelve, was little more than an empty husk. Eyes wide open, staring
unblinking at nothing, she rested on cold stone in a chamber far below
the surface of the earth. Her body was utterly motionless, save for the
slow, shallow rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. (Even
sustained by the Master's power, breathing was needful.)
Somewhere not far away in the blackness, a great dull, cold light beat
and pulsed. Even though asleep, the Master was still active.
The Master slept, yes, but not as common humans sleep. His mind worked
without ceasing. It was dulled by his slumber -- numbed, yes, and
limited -- and so he could focus his power only in small ways, on a few
things at a time. But that would change soon enough, when he found his
complement. When he attained completion.
Centuries before, when the human queen died, duality had been shattered
in a manner that defied comprehension. It had been a crippling blow to
the Master. Freed after so very long, only to be cast into shadow once
more! Shut away from the light he so craved. It was a thing not to be
tolerated.
So the Master worked; and so, until his attention fell on her once more,
Lady Blue waited. She would be called back into action soon enough.
She was his most potent tool; his link to her was far clearer, more
direct than that to any of his other playthings.
In the meantime she felt no frustration, no impatience. She felt
nothing at all, for she had not been ordered to feel. There was no need
for feelings. No need for anything.
Except that now and then, far off at the very limits of her perception,
there was a voice.
It came and went, a still, small voice in the back of her mind: ghostly,
evanescent, like a guttering candle a thousand miles away. She ignored
it, naturally, but it never stopped. Sometimes it spoke to her, begging
her to answer, pleading with her to say anything, anything at all. At
other times it only wept, or cried out for help. Sometimes it sang old,
half-remembered songs in a thin, mad voice. It was irrelevant, of
course; it was a distraction. But in her quiet moments, when the Master
looked away from her, she could not altogether shut it out.
[Please,] it whispered, [oh, please, just let me go. I'll do anything,
I swear. Just let me see the sky again. It's so dark in here ... and
cold, and so alone ...]
On and on it droned, an unending stream.
[Please, you don't know what it's like. When you send your power
through me it's like fire, you can't imagine the pain, it's burning me
alive, but so cold, so cold ... Oh, please, please, I'm so sorry I
didn't obey. I'll do better, I swear, but please, just let me go ...]
On and on.
[Let me eat something, at least. Oh, God, anything. I haven't eaten
anything in weeks, don't you understand? Not since you converted me.
Your power is all that keeps me going now, and it hurts so much, and I'm
so hungry, so hungry ... Oh God, it's driving me mad. You don't know
what it's like ... Please, please, just feed me ... let me see the sky,
and feel the sun and be warm again, just once ... oh, please ...]
On, and on, and on. Never ending. Number Twelve, Lady Blue, knelt in
bottomless darkness and listened to the voice in her head, and waited
for
the Master's call. And she felt nothing. Nothing.
****************
Friday came and went, and the evening found Dhiti sitting at home,
feeling scratchy and disgruntled. She was all alone, except for an
equally disgruntled cat. She had called Makoto and they had chatted for
a while, carefully skirting the subject of Suzue, but then Makoto had
rung off, citing homework, and now Dhiti had nothing to do. She had
already finished all her own homework, out of sheer boredom.
She was not much inclined to try chatting with Artemis. She and the cat
had made up, eventually, after the argument on Monday, but all the same,
there was a new rift there, one that was going to take a while to mend.
Sometimes she wondered why she bothered. Why couldn't he just go back
to living with Makoto, now that she wasn't being chased away from home
all the time? But reluctantly, Dhiti had to admit that she would miss
him if he left. A little.
Sighing, she picked up a book from the shelf by her desk and flipped it
open: an ikebana text for her Monday evening class. She read for a few
minutes, muttering keywords to herself, and then tossed it aside with a
scowl. It had only been a few classes, but she was already getting
bored with flower arranging. The basic ideas were easy enough to grasp,
but to go beyond that took patience and insight and a little genuine
artistic talent ... and she had never been strong on patience.
She could feel Artemis' eyes on her.
There had to be *something* worth doing on a Friday evening. But she
didn't want to go out, and she wasn't in the mood for company any more.
Ignoring the eyes boring into her back, she went to her closet and
started to rummage around. It was pretty full; there was a treasure
trove of junk piled up in there, from old hobbies she'd picked up and
abandoned. Sometimes she wished she could just throw her henshin wand
in with the rest, and move on. Not very often, but sometimes.
Her hands fell on a small black case, slightly dusty, and paused. She
pulled the case out and laid it on the desk, opening the lid. Her
trumpet lay inside, shiny and silver. How long had it been since she'd
gotten it out?
She looked at it for a moment, and grinned. Lifting the instrument from
the velvety lining, she found the mouthpiece and fitted it, and then
raised it to her lips. Her first try brought a clear, unwavering note,
and she grinned with pleasure. [Now, let's see ...] A moment to recall
the sequence of valves, and she managed a creditable scale. Not too
shabby! And there ought to be some sheet music around here somewhere --
"Why are you running away?" said Artemis from behind her.
She froze for an instant, and then laid the trumpet down. No escape,
then. Was this how it was going to be? "I'm not running away from
anything."
"Aren't you? Isn't there a job you're supposed to be doing? Looking
for the enemy with your computer?"
"I'm not running away from anything," Dhiti repeated. Before he could
answer she went on, "Artemis, am I a clown?"
He did not answer, and she turned to face him at last. He stared at
her, head cocked to one side. "What are you talking about now?" he
asked.
"I told Queen Serenity that I was a Court Jester. I said that I act the
way I do to jar people out of their complacency; stir them around a bit,
make them look at things differently. Tell the truths that nobody wants
to hear. You know, the whole Shakespearean clown thing."
He gazed back up at her, still uncertain. "That's ... an interesting
idea," he said cautiously. Then: "Is it true?"
Dhiti grinned. "Nahh, I think I just can't resist the opportunity. But
still --" She glanced down at the trumpet in its case, sobering. "I
wonder, sometimes. If I'm ... you know. Shallow."
Involuntarily, he laughed. "Shallow? You? If I've learned anything
about you over the last few weeks, it's that you go all the way down.
You ... you just wear shallowness as a mask." He gave her a quizzical
look. "What brought this on? What's the matter?"
"Oh, I don't know. It's just that --" She broke off, frowning as she
tried to work out what she wanted to say. "Artemis, you're lived so
long. Is there ... is there ever enough *time*?" she asked at last.
"To do everything you want? To see everything, and go everywhere ..."
He leaped up onto the desk and sat, tail curled around him, gazing at
her with an unexpectedly sympathetic expression in his eyes. "No," he
said gently, "never." Then, as she grimaced and looked away, he added,
"But that's not a bad thing, you know. That's a triumph! That's the
universe telling us that, no matter how far we've come, there's still
room for us to grow ..."
She did not look back at him, and after a little he asked, "What's
really wrong, Dhiti? What's bothering you?"
Still she did not answer. Her head felt as if it were wrapped in a
blanket. She stood by the desk, one hand on her trumpet case, and tried
to remember how it had come to this. Standing here with the world
closing in on her; trapped by obligations, she who should have been as
slippery as ice.
And the other thing, the one she did not want to talk about; the one she
had been trying not to think about all evening. In the end, there was
no escape, was there? Nothing to do but admit it all.
"Those computer scans you want me to do," she said in a dull, heavy
voice. "The ones I've been avoiding. The truth is ..."
"Yes?"
"I'm not running away from anything, Artemis. I'm not. The truth is,
I'm trying to get my courage up to *stay*." She made a face, unable to
meet his eyes. "The truth is, I'm afraid."
"Afraid of what?" he asked.
"I don't know. Isn't that stupid? I don't even know." With that,
finally, she looked up and gave him a twisted, mirthless grin.
He was silent for a moment. Then he said, "Tell me about it."
"I can't. That's the problem. It's exactly like I said at the meeting:
I scanned a piece of that crystal weeks ago, and the computer gave me a
lot of crazy talk about spiderwebs and shellfish. And daimons. That
was all. And yet --"
Dhiti broke off and walked quickly over to the window, staring out at
the fading evening sky. She felt as if she were suffocating, suddenly.
It was hard to think. She was sweating, and her head was beginning to
ache.
"And yet," she said in a low voice, "there was something there.
Something about what it said, and it ... it *pulled* at me, do you
understand? Inside my head. As if -- on the other side, just out of
reach, there was something ... old, and ... and horrible, and I couldn't
get away --"
"Hush," said Artemis, and she fell silent. She turned away from the
window, and was startled at how dark the room seemed. Only a few
seconds had passed, surely, while she stood looking out, but it was as
if full night had fallen in an instant. The only light remaining in the
blackness was the glint of the cat's eyes, sharp and bright; and above
them, glimmering faint but clear, a golden crescent.
At the same time, though, another, deeper shadow disappeared. The cloud
within her mind was gone: broken first by the sound of his voice and
dispelled altogether by the light from the moon symbol on his forehead.
Dhiti took a deep breath, and felt the last cobwebs wash away from her.
She shook her head, walked across the room and turned on the light.
When she turned back, the cat was studying her quizzically. And --
silly! -- of course his crescent-moon symbol wasn't glowing. Why would
it have been?
"Tell me," Artemis said, his head cocked to one side, "how long have you
been having these psychic flashes?"
"Er ... what?" Dhiti blinked at him. "Psychic? Me? Have you been at
the catnip again?"
"I could be wrong," he admitted, "but I don't think so. I ought to ask
Seki to take a look at you, but ... well, never mind that for now.
Meanwhile ... do you feel up to trying that scan, now?"
"The scan. Right." She thought about it, and to her surprise, she
found that she did feel up to it. Whatever it had been, that shroud of
doubt over her thoughts, it was gone. She shot Artemis a curious glance
and said, "Yes, I do. How did you know?"
"Mm. You learn a few things over the years. After all, I've *lived* so
long," he said dryly.
"Oh, don't get your hairballs in a knot. I still don't think we're
going to find anything useful; it'll be a lot of random garbage again."
"Well, try the ID card first, then."
"Okay, okay." Dhiti opened her desk drawer and found the card wallet.
With no more than an instant's hesitation, she got out the crystal shard
as well, laying them both on the desk. Then she pulled out her computer
and flipped it open.
"Think you can remember how?" asked Artemis slyly.
She glared at him. "Don't you go getting all psychological on me," she
grouched. "I'll have you know I've out-psyched cats smarter than you in
my sleep."
"You must tell me about it sometime," he purred. "For now, perhaps --?"
"Hmph." She picked up the ID wallet. "I'm starting with that Technical
Enfranchisement guy," she said, opening it. "Um, Kasamatsu Amane. I'll
try matching him against everything I got from 'M' Division the other
night."
It did not take her long. Her computer had stored all the data it had
captured when she was breaking into 'M' Division, and there was a lot of
it; but even so, scanning through it all took less time than giving the
command. "Nope, nothing on that name," she announced. "But that only
means he didn't work for 'M' Division."
"Try the organisation," he suggested. "The Technical --"
"-- Enforcement Network, yeah, yeah," she muttered, her fingers rattling
on the keyboard. With one final click, she sat back, giving him a
defiant glance. "But there won't be any--"
She broke off as her eyes returned to the screen, and then sat forward
hurriedly. "Well, what do you know?" she murmured. "There they are."
It was a single reference, but it was there. She pulled up the document
and scanned through it. An email from somebody she'd never heard of,
reporting back on constructing a 'suitable cover for the test subjects'.
Now, what was that all about? She frowned at the screen, feeling
uneasy once more. *Test* subjects?
A sudden jolt to her chair made her jerk upright, heart pounding, and
she looked around wildly. It was Artemis, of course; he had leaped up
onto the seat back and was now peering over her shoulder. She turned
away once more, scowling at her own foolishness, and looked back at
the screen.
The message came from an address at a system called TENnet. She snorted
and said, "Original." But on the other hand ... She typed again, and
nodded in triumph. There was a regular data feed from 'M' Division to
the same place: copies of data from the secret underground lab. She
wondered if the crazy old lady had known.
There were screeds of project reports coming back, too. She flipped
through a few of them and paused. "Project ... Chrysalides?" she said
aloud, fumbling over the word, and her uneasy feeling redoubled. One of
the reports included a budget sheet. She read through it, noting the
equipment that was being ordered, and said, "Artemis, all these
chemicals, the sealed vats, the isolation chambers they're building ...
they're doing some kind of biological experimentation."
"What!" said the cat, and leaned forward to look closer. "Oh, boy."
"Yeah. And look here. These reports are addressed to Chairman Fukuda."
He let out a breath. "Okay," he said. "Hard evidence that the chairman
is involved. That's good. But what else? Who *are* these people? And
where? Any hints?"
"And what are they doing?" added Dhiti. She searched again, and shook
her head. "There's nothing there. Not in the data we captured,
anyway."
"'Chrysalides' is a pretty big hint, anyway," the cat said. "I'd say
we've found out who's creating vitrimorphs."
"Yes, but ..." Dhiti trailed off, and then flicked back to the earlier
email. "Test subjects? And isolation chambers?" Dhiti did not feel
uneasy now. She felt sick. "Artemis, I think they might be using
living guinea pigs. Human ones."
He was silent for a long time. She glanced up and saw that he was
looking away, his eyes closed. At last he said, "We discussed this at
the meeting. You knew it was a possibility."
"I know. But then -- *who* are they using? Where are they getting
their ... their test subjects from?" A pause, and then she added: "Who
are we killing?"
The cat opened his eyes and regarded her steadily. "Something else for
you to research."
"Oh, damn it, anyway," she swore. "Why does it have to be me with the
computer? I hate the things --"
"So you've said," snapped Artemis. "Repeatedly. But you know what,
Dhiti? Sometimes we all have to do things we don't like. It's called
part of being alive. And from what I've seen, you're getting pretty
good at it, no matter what you keep telling us. So why don't you stop
complaining and just get on with it?"
He kept his eyes on her, clearly expecting an angry retort, but Dhiti
only chuckled. In an odd way, his anger felt ... cleansing. And, well
... he was right. "Point to you," she said.
Artemis gave her a suspicious look. "What?"
"Hmm. Hot and bothered cat. Point to *me*." Before he could reply,
she looked back at the screen and said, "I can't check much more from
here; the range is too far to connect to the public nets. I should be
able to do it from school tomorrow. For now --"
Her eyes strayed to the side, and all her temporary levity vanished in
an instant. She picked up the crystal shard.
"Yes," he said, his voice flat. "Why don't you show me what your
computer says about that."
She hesitated before responding. Then her lips tightened. She was as
slippery as ice, dammit, and she was not going to be afraid of the
boogeyman. Her fingers rattled on the keyboard, and the screen lit up.
Once more, Artemis leaned close to see, and she felt his furry body
brush against her head. It was tempting to rub her face against his
side, to reach up and stroke him ... and again, subconsciously, she was
avoiding the issue. She forced her attention to the computer.
It now displayed a maze of little readouts, showing a hundred different
analyses of the shard: density, composition, thermographic data, maps of
internal cleavage lines, and dozens more. "This is where I started
before," she said.
The white cat snorted. "Yes, and I'm sure it would be fascinating to a
crystallographer," he growled. "What *else* did you do?"
"This," said Dhiti, and without hesitation she threw the computer into
its associative mode.
Obediently, the screen began to fill with data. It went more slowly,
now, and some of the specific examples that appeared were different --
but the result was the same unsettling mixture that she had first seen
weeks before.
GUGGENHEIM MUSEUM
A photograph of a massive, spiralling ribbon of a building.
SPIDERWEB
A delicate lace of webbing, sharp against a dark background.
SHELLFISH
A picture of a chambered nautilus.
LEY LINES
A wide-angle photograph of a rural countryside, and superimposed over
it, a network of weaving, interlocking lines. And as she watched, Dhiti
felt the first renewed stirrings within her, of something akin to dread.
The pictures touched something deep inside her. Lines of power, a mesh
that covered the world ...
CONSTELLATIONS
A glittering star-field, its patterns strange and unrecognisable. The
stars, she knew, as they had been long ago. Unthinkably remote -- but
still here, a memory buried in the crystalline fragment of something
monstrous.
ABORIGINAL ROCK ART
Eerie, haunting symbols painted on a rock face: long, winding serpents
and lizards; and figures that might have been human, but they were
distorted, oddly misshapen. Almost alien.
HUMAN DNA
A vast, double-spiralling molecule.
The search seemed to end at this point; the screen grew still, and Dhiti
released a breath that she had hardly realised she was holding. Perhaps
this time ... But then, as before, the display flickered again and the
computer added one final, damning image.
DAIMON
She looked away from the screen with a scowl. There it was, as plain as
day. And yet, something whispered inside her, there was more. More,
and worse.
With a sigh, she glanced back at Artemis. He was watching intently, his
head cocked to one side. He didn't get it. She could see in his face,
that he didn't get it.
"Odd," he said at last. "Very odd. Spirals, and ... something else.
It's as if --"
Nimbly, he leaped from the back of her chair over to the desk, and
studied the computer with care. "What did you do, to get this data?" he
asked. Dhiti showed him, and he nodded. "Of course," he said, sounding
relieved. "You asked it for an associative search. It's gone right
though its whole memory and looked for *anything* that matches any part
of its scan. Naturally, it found a lot of meaningless similarities --"
"I know that!" Dhiti snapped. Unaccountably, she was shivering, though
the evening was warm. She held up one hand and stared at it. Her
fingers were shaking. She could not stop it.
She closed her hand, clenching it into a tight fist. "I know that," she
repeated. "But they're all the same, don't you see? All those
associations it found. It's showing us the same thing, over and over
again."
Artemis stared up at her. "The same? What do you mean?" He paused.
Then, quieter but more intense: "How are they the same, Dhiti? What are
you seeing?"
"I don't -- it's not --" She broke off, frustrated, unable to describe
what she was feeling. "It's as if they're all ... I don't know.
Reflections," she said at last. "Like ... aspects of the same thing?
Oh, damn it, that doesn't even make sense!"
He studied her face, his eyes narrowed. Then, slowly, he said, "Oh?
I'm not so sure." After another moment he looked back to the screen and
said, "Can you get any more details on these matches?"
"Uh. I think so." Dhiti looked at the list of pictures, shrugged, and
touched the first one: the strange, spiralling building. Immediately, a
message appeared: CASUAL SIMILARITY ONLY. She glanced back to Artemis,
and winced at the movement.
"Sometimes a spiral is just a spiral," he murmured, shaking his head.
"Try the others." Then, suddenly, he said, "No, wait. Try -- try the
Daimon."
She studied him with a wary eye. Did he feel it, too? Or was he just
impatient to move on? She grimaced, and then turned to obey. At her
touch, the screen lit up with a new message.
ANALYSING GENETIC FUSION
ANALYSING DNA CODING
ANALYSING INTRON CODING
The display halted and Dhiti stared at it. "What's all that supposed to
mean?" she complained. "What's an intron?"
Artemis huffed. "It's --" But he broke off as the computer spat out a
new set of messages.
VARIANCE DETECTED
ORIGIN UNKNOWN (INSUFFICIENT DATA)
TIME INDEX: -3.5E6 +/- 3.9%
Another tiny pause. And then:
ANALYSING GENETIC DRIFT
VARIANCE DETECTED
ORIGIN UNKNOWN (INSUFFICIENT DATA)
TIME INDEX: -1.58E14 +/- 14.8%
WARNING: VARIANCE DETECTED IN BASELINE
WARNING: BASELINE MAY BE CONTAMINATED
Dhiti read the messages over, three times. "Okay, I give in," she
admitted at last. "I didn't follow any of that. Artemis, does all this
mean anything to you?"
The cat was silent for a little, his eyes narrowed, never leaving the
screen. Finally, glancing up at her, he said, "I think I'm starting to
see why you were so bothered, before. This is ... quite disturbing."
"But what does it *mean*?"
"A daimon," he said carefully, "was a fusion: a human being, or
something else, merged with an egg that had been specially grown in a
laboratory and filled with the power of Master Pharaoh-90."
"I knew that," Dhiti snapped. "Well ... sort of. But so what? Are you
saying your Master Pharaoh-90 is coming *back*?"
"No! Or at least ... well, I hope not. But you asked your computer to
match its scans of the crystal against everything else in its memory,
and it came up with a daimon -- a fusion of human with alien. The same
way that these vitrimorphs seem to be a fusion of human and ...
something else."
Dhiti's eyes returned to the screen. "A genetic fusion," she said, and
could not restrain a shiver. "But with what?"
"'Origin unknown,' it said," he reminded her. "But what puzzles me is
that mention of genetic drift. Your computer looked way back, and ...
it seems to be suggesting *two* events. And the second one is -- well,
that time index. How long ago is that?"
She tapped out a new query; but even as she did so she had a sinking
feeling that she knew the answer. "One point eight million years," she
answered. "Plus or minus fifteen percent. And that matches with --"
Making a face, she tapped another entry on the screen, the picture of
the star-field, and a new set of messages scrolled up.
Artemis' eyes widened. "Wait a minute, the *stars* as they were two
million years ago?"
She scowled at him and said, "Yeah. Interesting coincidence, huh?"
"Damn it," he swore. "Those monstrosities are genetic fusions, but they
must have been made recently. But your computer is saying it's finding
something else, a long way back. What --?" He broke off, frustrated.
"What *happened* back then?"
"Who knows?" said Dhiti. She meant it to be a flippant comment to annoy
him, but it came out wrong. This whole business really was a little
disturbing. If she thought about it, she could almost see it in her
mind's eye --
[A hollow; a muddy waterhole, somewhere in a broad, rolling savannah.
Dusk, and the wind soughing through distant trees. Close by, the sound
of furtive movement. Cautious, wary-eyed, the ape-folk have come down
to drink. They cluster around the water, dipping their faces into it
and slurping noisily, grunting and hooting to one another. Then, all at
once, they grow very still. Something is happening; something
unnatural. It is black night, but there is a light in the heavens: not
the familiar sun or moon, but something else, a sickly pale colour,
growing brighter and brighter with terrifying speed. The ape-folk eye
each other, looking around with mounting fear -- and then they flee,
barking and screaming, as the sky opens up and something dreadful
descends into their midst ...]
-- But that was fantasy, a dream she'd had weeks ago, and she had other
things to think about. As she had expected, the analysis had not solved
anything; instead, it had only raised new questions. And one in
particular.
"What did that last bit mean?" she asked. "About the variance in the
baseline?"
Artemis eyed the screen with obvious distaste. "It means you were
right," he replied. "Your computer's giving you a lot of crazy talk."
"But what does it *mean*?"
He sighed. "It means that, once it allowed for genetic drift -- the
normal pattern of evolution and human development -- it found the second
instance of fusion in its baseline as well -- that is, in the sample
that it was comparing the crystal against. And in fact ..." He
hesitated, then suddenly asked, "Can you compare the two variances?"
"What? Um, I'm not sure. Let me see." Dhiti fussed with the keyboard
for a minute, and then made a pleased sound. "Ok, let's try. But I
don't see what you're expecting to --"
The little screen lit up with an answer. It was short, and very clear.
"Not two different events," whispered Artemis. "One and the same -- but
separated by two million years."
"Wait. You're saying that this enemy has been around for two *million*
years?" Dhiti paused. "And then it got released in Crystal Tokyo until
Queen Serenity stopped it, and now it's starting it all over again --
for the third time?"
The cat did not answer for some time. At last he said, "It kind of
looks like it, doesn't it?"
"Yeah." Dhiti nodded, then reached out and turned her computer off with
a decisive click. She put it away, and then dropped the crystal shard
and the ID wallet in her desk drawer.
As she did so, without looking around, she said, "Artemis? About that
baseline. Who would it be taken from?"
His reply was just as casual. "Oh ... I expect it was somebody back in
the Silver Millennium. Or maybe Mizuno Ami." He paused once more, and
then added, in a quiet voice, "Or maybe you."
"Yeah. Yeah, that's what I thought." Dhiti went to her bedroom door
and opened it. Glancing back over her shoulder, her face perfectly
composed, she said, "I'm just going out for a little walk. I'll see you
later. Okay?"
--**--
But the walk did nothing to clear her thoughts. She spent the rest of
the evening in a quiet, thoughtful mood; and in bed that night, hours
later, she dreamed once more.
She saw again the plain, and the waterhole. It was darker; the last of
the sunset afterglow had faded, but somehow she knew that it was the
same evening. Despite the darkness, she could still make out a few
details. Down in the hole, in the middle of the water, something
baleful pulsed and glowed. Around the edge of the water, she could see
that the apes had returned. Most of them stood motionless, staring into
the light; but a few of them moved back and forth in eerie unison. It
might have been only her imagination, but she almost thought that they
looked different -- twisted, changed in some subtle way. One approached
the glowing thing and laid something on it, as if making an offering: a
half-eaten animal, something like a squirrel.
Then suddenly, in perfect silence, a new light spilled across the plain,
and she saw a figure walk toward the waterhole: tall, erect, and
unmistakably human. A woman. She wore a costume that, while it was
older and less stylised, was recognisably a Senshi uniform; and, in the
last moments before the dream faded, Dhiti saw that her long hair shone
green-black in the fading light, and she carried a long staff that was
shaped like a giant key.
****************
Nanako's pocket comm trilled, and she jerked upright with a yelp. She
had fallen asleep on the floor, next to a pile of schoolbooks. She had
also, she saw with a scowl, drooled on her homework. Well, there wasn't
much on that page; she could copy it again.
The comm trilled again, and she snatched it up. "I'm right in the
middle of my homework, 'Toku-chan, so --"
"Nanako-san?" said a high-pitched voice. "Is that you?"
Nanako froze, pulled the comm away from her ear and looked down at the
screen. The caller name was blinking in regrettably clear characters.
She sighed and said, "What do you want, Hideo-chan?"
"You have to help her, Nanako-san! You have to!"
"Uh ..." Nanako paused, her mind blank. "Who are we talking about,
exactly?" she asked.
An instant later, before he could reply, she realised exactly who he was
referring to, and her momentary confusion became something more like
dread.
"Kodama-san," he answered, sure enough. "Nanako-san, I think they hurt
her real bad this time. She didn't go to school again today and when we
checked, she was still in the --"
"Wait," Nanako ordered. "Wait a minute." She rubbed her forehead, and
tried to get a grip on the situation. She did not need this. She was
barely awake, and she had homework to finish, and -- and oh, God, what
did he know about Iku?
A maelstrom of images and feelings boiled through her mind. As always,
there was the guilt. Nanako did not *know* that Iku's family were
beat-- that they were mistreating her; not for a fact. She had
suspected, yes, especially after she managed to drag the story of Iku's
puppy out of the girl. But that alone had been appalling enough to make
Nanako shy away. Bad things might be happening, but Iku never said a
word about it, and Nanako -- Nanako was afraid to learn more.
As simple as that. Nanako was afraid. She shied away from even
thinking about the matter. The idea that patient, silent Iku was going
through *that* was chilling; it knotted her stomach and made her want to
throw up. But doing something about it -- that meant having to learn
more; it meant having to be *involved* in the ... the thing; and that
simply terrified her.
For a long time she had nursed a silent hope that somebody else would
notice and do something. A teacher, perhaps; weren't teachers supposed
to keep an eye open and report any suspicions? But Iku was so good at
going unnoticed, keeping to the back and not attracting attention -- for
all the world as if she didn't believe that she deserved to be noticed
-- and the teachers at Kawasemi High, like teachers anywhere, had their
hands full coping with the louder, more boisterous students. Iku simply
slipped through the cracks. Often, it seemed as if she wanted it that
way.
Back when Nanako had started to have her first uneasy suspicions about
the timid girl who was always alone and never spoke up for herself, she
had salved her conscience by drawing Iku into her circle and telling
herself that at least the girl had a couple of friends now. So Nanako
was doing her bit, and that was all right, surely? She was ... she was
doing *enough*, and so she didn't have to do any more; she didn't have
to look any closer. She was safe. Surely.
Sometimes, though, usually at night, and usually after Iku had once more
been away from school for a day or two, a little voice out of the
deepest, most private recesses of her mind would say to her: [You could
do something about this. You could help her. All you'd have to do is
speak up.] And always, Nanako would turn away in dread, and look in the
other direction. Afraid to see. Afraid to help. And knowing that no
amount of pleasant chatter at lunchtime at school could make up for her
silence.
Damn it, Beth was supposed to have done something; she had given the
girl enough hints. But as usual, Beth had missed the point ... and
whose fault was that?
"What do *you* know about it?" she asked Hideo, her voice thick with
bitterness.
"The Senshi Watch," he answered, oblivious to her tone. "We've been
keeping track of both the known Senshi, of course -- Kodama-san and
McCrea-san. We've set up shifts who --"
A little revolted, she listened to him rattle on, forgetting his worries
as he boasted about his importance. This was what she got for leaving
the kid to his own devices: a squadron of prepubescent boys spying on
older girls. It was almost funny, in a sick sort of way.
"So if you're doing so much," she interrupted at last, not trying to
hide her contempt, "why haven't *you* done something about it?"
He fell silent. When he spoke again, she heard the worry and indecision
in his voice once more, and regretted her anger. He was, after all,
trying to help. "Well --" he said. "It's -- you know."
"Yeah," she said dryly. "It's very 'you know'. And I *do* know."
"But," he protested, "we have to do something! You -- you haven't seen
what they do to her, Nanako-san. They --"
"Stop," she snapped. He broke off, sounding astonished, and she took a
second to get herself under control. She might be able to handle this
after all. Yes, perhaps there was a way. "Leave it to me, Hideo-chan,"
she ordered. "I'll deal with it. And after that ..."
She broke off meaningfully, and after a moment Hideo said, "Yes?"
"After that, we will talk about why you've been telling other people who
Iku-chan and Beth-chan are ... won't we?"
"I haven't told anybody!" he yelped. "I didn't say they were Senshi. I
just called them ... um, suspects."
Suspects. Nanako felt like grinding her teeth. He was twelve, she
reminded herself. Twelve, and a very intelligent idiot.
"Yeah, well, we'll talk about that," she said, her voice sharp. "Right
now, I have to move. I'll see you tomorrow, Hideo-chan ... won't I?"
She shut off the comm without waiting for a reply, and grimaced. So
much for her homework. Now she had to go out start meddling in things,
and it was all Iku's fault. She would have hoped that someday the girl
would appreciate it ... except that, if Nanako had her way, and if she
were very lucky, Iku would never find out that she had been involved at
all.
--**--
Half an hour later she stood outside Beth's house, wondering how to
proceed. Her watch read after ten, and it would look pretty odd if she
just knocked on the door and asked to talk to Beth.
It wasn't Beth she wanted to speak to, anyway.
She thought back to the day, nearly three weeks ago, when she had come
come here for the first time. She had wanted to speak to Bendis then,
too. Funny how long ago it seemed. She closed her eyes, trying to
remember the layout of the house. Let's see, Beth's room had been to
the side, so her window must be ... that one. The light was off.
She glanced around to check that nobody was watching, and then slipped
in through the gate and around the side of the building. The window
she hoped was Beth's was a little above eye level. She stood up on
tiptoe, holding the ledge tightly, and managed to peer in.
The room inside was darkened, but some light came in through the open
door. She could see a desk piled with books, a bed... and a small, dark
shape curled up on the pillow. Yes!
She tapped on the window, and saw the shape twitch. Then, letting her
breath out, she let herself relax back to the ground and waited.
Nothing happened for a while, and after a minute she tapped again, a
little harder this time. Almost immediately a furry head appeared at
the window, peering out. She waved to the cat, and saw Bendis stiffen,
her ears flattening back. Very clearly, Nanako mouthed the words, 'I
need to talk to you,' and pointed to the street.
Bendis hesitated. Nanako nodded quickly, pointing again and trying to
let some of the urgency show in her face. The cat wavered, making
Nanako want to scream in frustration, and then finally turned and
vanished from the window.
With a muffled sigh of relief, Nanako crept back through the front gate
and out into the street again. She stopped by the trees where she and
Hideo had spoken to Bendis last time, and waited.
The cat took some time to arrive, and when at last she appeared around
the side of the house, Nanako was almost bursting with tension. The
two of them eyed each other before Bendis finally spoke.
"Well?" she snapped. "What now?"
"Hey," Nanako said, nettled. "There's no need to be rude. I just want
to help. Like last time, remember?"
"Yeah, right." Bendis glared at her. "And yet, here you are, sneaking
around behind Beth's back again! I've heard all about you and your
secrets, Higoshi Nanako. If you're so eager to help, why haven't you
told Beth-chan that you know about her?"
"Why haven't *you* told her about me?"
They stared at each other. Stalemate.
"Look," said Nanako in a low voice, "this has got nothing to do with me
and Eitoku-kun. I really did come here to help, I promise. It's about
Iku-chan."
That seemed to throw the cat. "Iku-san?" she said, surprised. "What
about her? And why talk to me?"
"Oh, come on. Haven't you noticed anything odd about her?"
Bendis snorted. "What's to notice? She's pretty hopeless. Her powers
aren't much, even when she can get them to work. She's ... oh, I don't
know. Like a mouse, just waiting for m-- for someone to pounce on her."
Charming. It wasn't a big surprise to Nanako; Iku seemed to attract
that kind of attitude from most people. But she had hoped for more
from the Senshi and their allies.
"I think she's being abused by her family," Nanako said.
"Uh --" Bendis paused, suddenly uncertain. "Do you mean, like, she's
the runt of the litter?" she asked cautiously. "And not, her parents
want to eat her or something?"
"*Eat* her?" Nanako said, horrified. "Why would they -- I -- You know,
Bendis, humans don't actually do that." After a moment, honesty made
her add, "Well, hardly ever."
"You never know," muttered Bendis in a sulky voice. "I've seen humans
do some pretty weird things."
"Oh, and cats are so normal," scoffed Nanako. "What, you really think
eating your young is so -- look, this isn't even what I wanted to talk
about! You need to do something about Iku-chan, remember?"
"Me?" Bendis gave her an odd look. "I'm just a cat, remember? Why
don't *you* do something?"
"Because --" Nanako came to a dead stop. That was supposed to be what
she was *doing*. "She's one of you," she managed at last.
"Ah," said Bendis. "And you're only her friend. *I* see."
"That -- that's not fair."
"Wasn't supposed to be," the cat said, her voice flat. "You want me to
do your dirty work for you, right? Or me and Beth, I suppose. Keep
your own hands clean." She snorted. "Some friend *you* are."
Nanako started to answer, a protest of innocence of some kind, but then
cut it off. What was the point? "Think what you like," she said icily.
"At least I *noticed* something was wrong."
She turned her back on Bendis and walked away, ignoring the indignant
sputtering behind her. For a few moments she thought the cat might come
after, but after a little she realised that she was safe.
Safe. That was an odd word, she thought a few minutes later, sitting in
a bus as it rumbled toward home. Was that really the way she felt?
Safe, now that she was ... well, removed from the problem once more? It
bothered her, for no reason that she could name.
It was true, though; she was confident of that. The -- the problem --
was dealt with, now. Bendis would be collected and reliable, in a way
that Beth had never been. She would make sure that somebody did
something. Surely. Surely.
One last thought came to her, troublesome, as she prepared for bed ten
minutes later. She had dreaded the idea of speaking to anybody about
this, dreaded it enough to make her throat close in hidden panic at the
idea. Yet she had been able to talk to Bendis, where she could not have
spoken to a human. Now, what sense did that make?
The idea continued to bother her as she drifted off to sleep.
--**--
Bendis watched the girl leave, and muttered a few choice words under her
breath. Well, here was a fine kettle of fish! And what was *she*
supposed to do about it?
'Abused by her family.' What did that mean, anyway? Were they making
her do all the housework? Spanking her for being naughty? Bendis'
experience of human woes was pretty limited, but that didn't sound all
*that* bad.
The best thing, she supposed, was to go over to Iku's house and find out
exactly what was happening. There was just one small problem with that:
she had no idea where Iku lived.
Bendis glanced up at the sky. It was getting late.
She shook her head and turned back toward the house, pondering ways and
means. She was the smart one, after all. She was bound to think of
something.
Tomorrow.
****************
The next day was Saturday: a half-day at school. It was also the last
day of term before summer break, and there was a lot of suppressed
excitement among the students. Dhiti took advantage of it; she arrived
early, for once, and went to the school library. It had computers
attached to the public nets, though students were only allowed to use
them under supervision. That was all right, though; she was not
planning to touch them.
She made her way down to the rear of the lobrary, close enough to the
computer carrels to be within range, and studied the line of bookshelves
there. They held books about Second Dark Age artwork in Americay and
Grande Brasile. She decided that nobody was likely to disturb them over
the next few hours -- especially not today.
She glanced around, making sure that nobody was watching, then pulled
out the Mercury computer and switched it on. The screen lit up and she
touched a single key. The little screen paused, and then showed a
message: [Inductance Link Established].
With a nod of satisfaction, Dhiti touched another key, starting a search
that she had prepared the previous night. Then, checking once more that
nobody was around to see, she slid the computer behind the books on the
top shelf, and walked out of the library.
Her search for the mysterious Katamatsu and the elusive TENnet would be
limited by the speed of the library's net link, so it might take some
time to run. Meanwhile, highly satisfied with her own cleverness and a
job well begun, Dhiti went off to find Kin and head to class.
--**--
As it turned out, the search took just under two and a half hours. Her
computer notified her of its success by sending a message to Dhiti's
Senshi communicator.
She had not anticipated how loud the alarm would seem, coming in the
middle of a dense mathematics class. (Even in the last class before the
holidays, her math teacher refused to slacken up.) She had also not
anticipated being half-asleep at the time. The fact that half the
rest of the class were either watching the clock like hawks, or were
half-asleep themselves, only made it more dramatic.
When her watch started beeping, Dhiti shot to her feet with a wild
shout, thrashing her arms around and knocking her chair to the floor.
"Yes! Coming!" she yelled, scrabbling at her watch.
Then, far too late, she remembered where she was. Slowly, she looked
around.
The entire room was staring at her, open-mouthed. The students who sat
closest to her were leaning back, as if to get as far away from her as
possible. Up at the front of the classroom, the teacher had frozen in
mid-equation, a thing previously unheard of. Today would become
legendary among future generations of students. And across the room,
damn her, Kin was miming laughter and applause.
There was a long silence. Very long. Dhiti stared around the room and
tried to think of something to say.
The teacher cleared her throat. "Sharma-san," she began.
Dhiti's watch beeped again.
She slapped her hand to it, hitting the *acknowledge* button, and gave
the teacher a big, wide smile. "Sorry, Ihara-sensei," she said. "Gotta
go. I, uh, left a cake in the oven." She hovered for one moment more
and then, unable to help herself, added, "It's chocolate." Then, before
she could think of anything to add that would make the situation even
worse, she said, "Bye," gave everyone a little wave, and ran out of the
classroom.
--**--
She retrieved her computer and retired to a quiet spot in the library
where she could study the results without being seen.
Slightly to her surprise, the search for TENnet had been the easiest
part of the search -- though once she saw why, she decided that she
should have seen it coming; the camouflage was ridiculously transparent.
"Technical Enforcement Network," indeed! Somebody had a sense of
humour.
The search for Kasamatsu Amane had taken much longer, and looking back,
she was actually surprised that it had succeeded at all. But the
photograph her computer had finally come up with was clear enough, and
she remembered the face, just before his monstrous transformation. They
had not even used a false name.
She looked at the source of the data, and shuddered. It made a brutal
kind of sense.
Other aspects of the puzzle, though, did not. The unbelievable openness
of it all: the title of the "Technical Enforcement Network", for
example, or the way Kasamatsu had been walking around openly, not even
in disguise, and using his own name. Dhiti was no fan of spy thrillers,
but even she could see how bad an idea that was. It was as if the whole
scheme had been cooked up by amateurs, people who were playing secret
agent games.
Or, then again, it might be a expression of contempt. [Here we are,] it
seemed to say. [Now what are you going to do about it?]
Either way, Dhiti knew exactly what she was going to do about it. She
glanced up at the wall clock, and saw that there were only five minutes
left until classes ended. Impatiently, she waited the time out. Then,
as the bell rang and the halls started to fill with the sound of excited
boys and girls released for their holidays at last, she started pressing
buttons on her communicator.
--**--
They met at Seki's house once more. Beth was the last to trickle in, a
little out of breath. She raised her eyebrows when she saw that Bendis
was there already.
"Sorry I'm late," she said. "I was almost home when --" She gestured
toward her communicator.
Ochiyo nodded with a faint frown. "You haven't seen Iku-san, have you?
I tried calling her three times, but she never answered."
"Maybe she was in the bath," muttered Makoto.
"Um," said Beth. "She wasn't at school today. Or the last couple of
days, actually. I've been meaning to ask her about something, but I
keep --" She paused, then added with a shrug, "She's always been kind
of ... sickly, I guess. She was away last Monday, too."
Bendis cleared her throat. "Um, Beth-chan," she said hesitantly.
"There's something I need to talk to you about."
Beth shushed her, impatient. "Later, Bendis-chan." She looked over to
Ochiyo and Dhiti. "So what's up now? I, uh, sort of had plans for this
afternoon."
"Didn't we all," murmured Suzue. Makoto shot her a look, but then
turned away again without speaking. The two were seated as far from
each other as possible.
Artemis cleared his throat. "Dhiti made a breakthrough last night," he
said. "We learned some things about the vitrimorphs -- and got some
hints about how they're being made."
"Two breakthroughs," said Dhiti. Her face was unusually solemn, almost
grim. "I did some more scans on the public nets this morning. I
cracked it, Artemis. *I know where they're making vitrimorphs, and
who's doing it, and how.*" She paused, and with a twisted grin that was
a ghost of her usual smirk, added, "If anyone wants to shower me with
accolades, now's the time."
She waited, but nobody took her up on it. Liam, who was perched on the
arm of a chair at the back of the room, said, "Now I think we'd better
hear the details." His accent was back, Beth noticed.
Dhiti told them. She talked about the records she had copied from 'M'
Division, and how they had definitely linked Chairman Fukuda to the
enemy; about a mysterious organisation called TENnet; and about her
scans of the crystal shard, and the strange hints at a connection to the
unimaginably distant past.
When she finished, Beth found herself shivering. "So what happened,
then?" she asked. "You're saying that somebody ... did something to
that man Kasamatsu-san, or to his ancestors I mean, two million years
ago? But ... that's not possible, is it? There weren't even any human
beings back then. Uh ... were there?"
"There were apes," said Dhiti, and shivered herself.
"Apes?" repeated Beth, confused.
"The ancestors of humanity." Dhiti's lips tightened. "Savage.
Primitive. Unable to resist."
"I ... I don't understand."
Liam said, slowly, "A genetic fusion. That's what your computer said?
I remember Ami mentioning something, back during the Fall, about a
genetic propensity of some kind. But it was tenuous, and she was always
too busy to follow it up. I wonder if ..."
"What are you thinking?" asked Ochiyo.
He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again his gaze
was hooded, distant. "Two million years ago. The ancestors of humanity
would have been primitive apes back then, as Dhiti says. But it seems
as though something happened to them. Something *came*, some dark
agency, and ... and tampered with the inhabitants. Altered them. Used
them as the subjects of some monstrous experiment -- one so dreadful
that the echoes of it survive even today."
"Spirals," said Artemis quietly.
"Yes. Spirals, and primitive masks, and other symbols. A race memory,
buried in the genes. One that might emerge, now and then, from the
subconscious -- find expression in artwork or dreams. Even the very
image of the stars overhead when it happened!" He shook his head,
looking grim. "It's a horrible thought."
"All right," said Makoto. "If you say so. It's ... disgusting, I
suppose. But so what? What's that got to do with anything *now*?"
"Don't you see?" Liam turned toward her, his eyes dark and troubled,
and shook his head once more. "After two million years, it would have
spread. Surely that's obvious. Two million years of humanity
expanding, breeding and interbreeding ..." He glanced around the room,
meeting each of their gazes, one by one. Then he looked away, as if
ashamed. "It would be in all of us by now, to some degree. All of us.
It would have to be. Every person on Earth, everyone in this room,
would be descended from the victims."
There was a long silence. Then Makoto said, "That's sick."
"Yes."
"Yes," repeated Dhiti in a whisper.
"And ... you think it's the same enemy?" asked Ochiyo. Her face was
pale. "Planting the seeds of something long ago, and back now to finish
the job?"
"It fits, doesn't it?" said Suzue. "During the Fall, they released
something that had been trapped in the ground for two million years.
It's still out there ... waiting for us." Her own expression was stern
and bleak. "So that leaves two obvious questions. No, three."
"What questions?" asked Ochiyo, obligingly.
"First: what was it doing to those apes? And, by extension, to us?
Second, what can we do about it?" Scowling, she lifted one hand and
studied it, as if trying to probe it for some inner flaw.
"And third?" prompted Seki after a moment.
"Hmm? Oh. Third -- what trapped it down there in the first place? I
doubt that there were any Sailor Senshi around, two million years ago."
Suzue snorted.
Dhiti looked up from her computer and opened her mouth, as if about to
speak. Then, with a tiny shake of her head that was barely visible, she
subsided once more.
The room was silent for a minute. At last Beth said, half to herself,
"None of this makes any sense."
"Perhaps," said Ochiyo thoughtfully, "this Lady Blue of yours might know
the answers."
"True," agreed Artemis. "Which, I suppose, brings us to Dhiti's other
announcement." He blinked at Dhiti, and added, "See if you can spare us
the drama this time, please. I think I've heard enough dramatic news
for today."
She made a face back at him. "Spoilsport," she said.
"Well?" demanded Makoto. "Come on, Dhiti-chan. Don't make us wait."
"Patience, Hayashi, you'll give yourself a hernia." Dhiti glanced
around, grinning. "Okay. I was looking for this TENnet, and it was
pretty easy to find. It's a group called the Tenshin Institute.
They're a private laboratory and research think-tank, but they do a lot
of work for the government." She glanced down at her computer and
added, "Mostly for 'K' Division, as a matter of fact."
"Another link to Lady Blue," said Artemis slowly.
"Uh-huh. And this 'Technical Enforcement Network', too. Now that
really *is* a transparent cover."
"It fits, I suppose," mused Seki. "The Tenshin Institute? I've heard
of them. They're not exactly secret; they do a fair bit of government
work, right out in the open. But -- really? It seems so ... obvious.
Are you sure it isn't misdirection to cover for someone else?"
"That's what I was thinking, too," said Suzue.
Dhiti shrugged. "Me, too. What can I say? It's where everything
points. My computer couldn't find anything to contradict it -- and I
looked, believe me."
Artemis said, "If you think about it, it kind of makes sense. They
didn't have any strong reason to try to hide, after all. This is
probably some geeky scientist's idea of a clever joke."
"Or another trap," said Suzue.
There was a brief pause. Everybody looked at her. "Um, what makes you
think that?" asked Ochiyo.
The girl gave a shrug. "They keep on pushing us, don't they? Raising
the stakes, a bit at a time. If I were them, I'd be laying subtler
traps too. Planting hints for us to follow, so they can tell how far
we've come by the directions we take."
Another pause. Then Dhiti said, "Okay, that's disturbing."
"Huh," said Ochiyo at the same time. Suzue glanced at her and Ochiyo
added, "Sorry. I was just thinking about a lifetime of paranoia, and
the directions it starts making your mind go."
Suzue gave her an irritated look. "I'm not paranoid," she said. "And
they *are* out to get us."
Beth laughed. Then she realised that Suzue was not joking, and stopped
laughing in a hurry. She felt like echoing Dhiti's words from a moment
ago: that had been disturbing.
Liam cleared his throat. "We're getting off-track. Again," he said.
"Dhiti-san, it's all very interesting about the Tenshin Institute, but
it doesn't actually get us anywhere."
"Actually, it does," said Dhiti. "It gets us the source of the
vitrimorphs." She paused, glancing around the room with a very
self-satisfied smirk: unable, no matter what Artemis had said, to resist
the dramatic moment. "The laboratories at the Tenshin Institute," she
said into a sudden silence, "are where the vitrimorphs are being made."
Seki caught her breath. "Really? You're sure?" she asked.
"Pretty sure," answered Dhiti. "I went looking for Kasamatsu Amane, you
see ... and I found him. Here -- look." She turned her computer screen
to face them, and everyone clustered around. The photograph was quite
clear. So was its source.
"A prison record?" said Makoto, frowning.
"Yes," said Dhiti. She was no longer smiling. "Sixteen months ago, he
was sentenced to eight years in prison for armed robbery. He should
still be there. But we know differently, don't we?"
"And another one of them, at the Olympus the other night," put in Seki
grimly. "That 'S' Division man said something about ... one of the men,
I don't remember his name, was supposed to be in prison."
"Right. And look here." Dhiti scrolled the display down and pointed to
a note at the bottom of the record. "Amane-san was transferred, nearly
six weeks ago. No note of where; just that he was being sent ... care
of the Technical Enforcement Network."
Seki stifled a curse.
"He wasn't the only one," Dhiti went on. Her face was a blank mask; her
voice, utterly flat. "I found plenty more, when I checked: dozens of
them, men and women, all prisoners. And they're --" Her voice broke,
just for a moment. "*They're still doing it.* Another pair were
transferred, just two days ago."
"Hold on," said Liam. He, too, wore a grim frown. "You're suggesting
that --"
"Suggesting, hell. I'm *saying* that the Council are taking prisoners
and sending them to the Tenshin Institute to be turned into
vitrimorphs." Dhiti drew a long breath. "And then sending them out
against us to get killed."
"No," said Ochiyo. Her voice was gentle. "We talked about this
already. Do you really think we're guilty, Dhiti-san? Or is it the
Tenshin Institute? Or the Council?"
Dhiti looked away. "It doesn't matter," she said quietly. "At the very
least, we're participants."
"Then we need to do something about it. Don't we?"
Artemis looked up, suddenly alarmed. "Don't tell me you want to go on
the attack again!" he exclaimed. "Not after last time -- please!"
Ochiyo gave him a defiant stare in return. "All right," she said. "You
tell me, then. What should we do? Sit idle when more people are being
corrupted? We really would be guilty then, Artemis-san."
He hesitated, agonised. "But what if you're wrong?" he insisted. "What
if it isn't them?"
She narrowed her eyes, for just an instant, and then glanced over her
shoulder. "Dhiti-san, how sure are you about this?" she asked.
Dhiti gave her a bleak look in return. "Pretty sure."
Ochiyo nodded, turned back to Artemis, raised her eyebrows ... and
waited. The cat writhed under her gaze, trying not to meet her eyes,
and did not answer. She lifted her head once more and scanned around
the room. "Seki-san?" she asked. "Endymion-sama?"
Liam pondered for no more than a fraction of a second. "Check them
out," he said, "but quietly. If it's true -- then do what you need to."
His accent was gone again. "I'll go along, of course," he went on,
giving her a faint smile. "After all, if Sailor Moon is there, how can
Tuxedo Kamen stay behind?"
"I'll be going, too," said Seki with a grimace.
"You what?" Makoto's head whipped around, her stare incredulous. "What
the hell are you talking about? You can't -- you're not --"
"Spare me," Seki replied, her scowl not fading. "I'm not planning to
join in if it comes to a fight. I'm not a fool. But *somebody* there
ought to have a level head ... and Liam-kun is going to be busy."
"But -- but --"
Ochiyo caught Suzue's eye, and sighed. "Do these things always get this
complicated?"
--**--
Once the decision was finally made, things began to move faster. Twenty
minutes later, they were on their way.
Those minutes were not without further argument. Seki made a
halfhearted attempt to persuade them to wait until evening, at least,
but she had little hope that they would agree. Dhiti used her computer
to check the Tenshin Institute's location -- squarely in the middle of
an industrial district, business hours Monday to Friday only -- and even
the arch-conservative Artemis reluctantly agreed that it should be safe
enough. Seki could only shake her head and accept the decision. She
could see the truth easily enough, if Artemis could not: Ochiyo had
tasted blood again, and as before, the others were falling neatly into
line.
She gritted her teeth and went along with it. If only Ochiyo were not
so *certain* that she was right all the time! Usagi had been the same,
though in quite a different way. It made both of them impossible to
argue with.
With a speed that was almost bewildering, she found herself talked into
providing transport. The Institute was on the other side of the city:
too far to walk, and nobody wanted to attract attention by running there
in broad daylight, in Senshi form. Seki's car was small, but it could
fit four of them if they squeezed; the others would simply have to use
public transport. There was a train station only a few minutes' walk
from Seki's house.
Just as they were heading out, there was one final interruption. The
comm buzzed, and Makoto, who was nearby, answered it automatically. She
snapped "Hello?" impatiently, then listened -- and froze. "Fujimaro?"
she said in a very different voice.
Seki, listening, saw her face -- the sudden vulnerability there -- and
suddenly understood. She had not met Makoto's younger brother, but she
had heard his name a number of times in the last weeks. Makoto tried
hard to pretend that she did not miss her family, but looking at her
now, Seki could see how much of a pretence that was.
"Yeah. Of course I did," said Makoto into the commset, and turned a
little away from the other girls, who were watching her curiously. Her
face was beginning to screw up in something like pain. "Yeah. Uh. Now
really isn't a good time, actually. No. I'm sorry. It's kind of hard
to explain ..."
Seki hesitated for a second, and then started to quietly shoo the others
outside. She followed them, wondering how she was going to explain
this, and found that she did not need to say anything. Dhiti did it for
her; she simply looked around the group and said, "Her brother" -- and
nothing more. Seki saw the ripple of understanding go through the
others -- they all knew the story about Makoto's family by now -- and
looked at the dark-skinned girl with fresh interest. [So, she can be
tactful after all, when she wants to,] she thought. [Interesting.]
Two minutes later the door opened and Makoto emerged. Her face was set
and expressionless. She glanced around at them all and said in a flat
voice, "Let's go."
They went.
--**--
The Tenshin Institute appeared, at first glance, to be a very ordinary
two-storey office building near the edge of the industrial district
across the Ara river; but it was attached via a covered walkway to a
second building, longer and taller, that looked for all the world like a
giant warehouse. For all its height, though, it had only a single row
of windows, near the top. Dhiti, paging through the information she'd
pulled down into her computer that morning, announced that this was the
Institute's research laboratory building.
She and Makoto exchanged glances. Makoto said, "I bet I can guess what
one of their research projects is."
"Gee, you think?" snarked Dhiti. "That wasn't on the public nets, but
it's a pretty safe bet."
"So what are we waiting for?" demanded Ochiyo. "Let's go!"
"Hold it!" Seki called out before any of them could move. "Please!" she
went on more quietly. "At least do a scan before you go in. Check if
there's anybody inside."
Dhiti paused. "Um," she said.
"Hey, that's a good idea," said Beth. "Why didn't we try that last
time?"
Another pause. Dhiti cleared her throat and started to redden; and
then, unexpectedly, Suzue came to her rescue. She said, "I expect she
was more concerned with trying to get through the alarm systems."
"Oh, right," Beth answered, nodding. "I remember."
"Yeah," said Dhiti gratefully at the same time. "That was it." Then
she blinked. "Hey, wait a minute. That really *was* it."
"Okay, okay," said Ochiyo. "Just do the scan, all right?"
"No, I mean, that actually, genuinely was the real reas-- Look, never
mind, okay? Just skip it. Scanning now." A little disgruntled, Dhiti
began to manipulate her computer. Seki hid a smile. She noticed, not
for the first time, that despite her complaints Dhiti's hands flickered
over the device with no hesitation.
"Right," Dhiti announced a few seconds later. "I've got people in a
number of offices in the front building, but the warehouse is empty. No
signs of life at all. We should be clear to go."
Ochiyo beamed. "At *last*," she said, and without further ado she
produced her henshin wand and cried out, "Moon prism power, make-up!"
Seki made a face. "Headstrong," she muttered under her breath. Then
she turned away so she would not have to watch the other girls as they
followed suit. Even now, it still hurt.
A few seconds later, the group moved off, closely followed by Tuxedo
Kamen. Artemis gave Seki a slightly guilty look, then went after them,
with Bendis on his heels. A silence fell. Seki was left alone, again.
"Naturally," she grumbled, and then laughed at her own foolishness.
What had she expected, after all? To join in the fight against any
vitrimorphs the girls met? That was crazy.
She leaned against her car door, the sun warm on her back, and tried to
rein in her patience as the minutes ticked by. Join in? No, she was
here to try to keep the Senshi out of trouble if there were any ordinary
people around. That was all. But even that wasn't going to be a
problem; after all, Dhiti's scan had already showed --
Wait a minute.
Dhiti's scan had showed no life signs at all. But if there were
prisoners inside that building, being warped into crystal somehow, then
they should have shown up. The life signs might have been twisted,
distorted, but they should have been there -- in spades.
So either there were no vitrimorphs here at all, and the girls were
following a wild-goose chase, or ...
"Trouble," she snarled, and took off after the rest of them at a dead
run.
<< CONCLUDED IN PART 4 >>
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Angus MacSpon Email: macspon at ihug.co.nz
ICQ: 65719513 http://shell.ihug.co.nz/~macspon/
More information about the ffml
mailing list