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SAILOR MOON 4200:  What has gone before
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   In the year 3478 Crystal Tokyo was destroyed in an as-yet unexplained
disaster.  Queen Serenity and her Senshi died fighting a hopeless battle
against the invaders.  Civilisation fell; a new dark age began.  Now, in
the year 4200, a new world order has risen, centred on the city of Third
Tokyo and ruled by the shadowy Serenity Council.
   Artemis survived the final battle; now he and his great-granddaughter
Bendis are searching for a new generation of Senshi.  Shortly after they
argue and split up, Bendis discovers the new Sailor Venus: a girl called
McCrea Beth.  For his part, Artemis finds the new Jupiter and Mercury --
Hayashi Miyo and Sharma Dhiti.  Miyo is actually Kino Makoto, now reborn
in her third lifetime; but when Artemis tries to re-awaken her memory of
her previous life as Sailor Jupiter, he accidentally restores her memory
of the Silver Millennium as well.
   The first exploits of the Senshi are national news but public opinion
soon takes a disturbing direction: some people hate them; others want to
worship them.  The Council, already searching for Bendis, create "vitri-
morphs" -- crystalline monsters designed to hunt Senshi.
   Meanwhile another survivor of Crystal Tokyo has become involved: Hino
Rei, once Sailor Mars, now powerless, and owner of the Olympus Gymnasium
under the name Pappadopoulos Itsuko.  Her office is bugged by a group of
Council investigators after Artemis is seen at the Olympus.  To preserve
the secret of her past, she seeks help from an old friend in the Sankaku
clans, a mysterious criminal group.  But the investigators learn of this
and their suspicions are only deepened.
   When vitrimorphs appear in the city, Venus, Jupiter and Mercury begin
to work together, fighting them.  They are followed by an Opal, a flying
patrol vehicle fitted by the Council with Senshi detectors; but the Opal
has been sabotaged by Sailor Pluto (who has also survived, now using the
name Fumihiko Sadako), and crashes.
   Without Beth's knowledge, two students at her school realise that she
is Sailor Venus.  And Miyo, upset by the realisation that Minako and Ami
have not been reborn in this time, is taken to see an old friend ...
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     S   A   I   L   O   R       M   O   O   N       4   2   0   0
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                            by Angus MacSpon
                           macspon@tamaneko.org
       http://sm4200.tamaneko.org/index.html
                    Comments and criticism welcome!

            Based on "Sailor Moon" created by Naoko Takeuchi
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                       C H A P T E R   S E V E N
                            Transformation:
                            Thy Will Be Done
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"Hello, Makoto," said Itsuko.  "How've you been?"

Miyo just stood there, looking stunned.  "Rei?" she whispered again.

"It's probably best that you don't call me that," Itsuko said calmly.
"And you're Miyo now, right?"  She glanced down at Artemis.  "I take it
he didn't tell you who you were coming to see."

Miyo closed her mouth, finally, and swallowed hard.  "Rei," she breathed
for the third time.  "What are you ... how ... I mean, you've been
reborn too?  Oh, thank goodness --"

Itsuko closed her eyes for a moment.  "No," she said.  "No, I haven't
been reborn.  I got here the hard way."

"The what?"  After a second she saw the sudden comprehension in the
girl's eyes.  "Oh.  Oh, no."

"Yes.  It's been a while."  Itsuko got up from her desk and went to the
window.  It was a struggle to keep control.  Part of her wanted to
throttle Artemis, for springing this on her without warning.  Part of
her wanted to run to Miyo and hug her.  And part of her --

Part of her remembered the last time she had spoken to Makoto.

                                 --**--

    "The truth is," she'd confessed to Artemis several days before,
    "when it happened, when everything fell apart and she got killed
    ... we hadn't spoken in more than fifteen years."

That day in Crystal Tokyo ... they'd gotten together, she and Makoto and
Haruka and Michiru, for a meal and a chance to gossip about old times. 
Rei hadn't seen the others in a while, and it was nice to be able to
catch up.  All of them had their duties, and they carried them all over
the globe and beyond.  Chances to meet like this were few.

They talked about what they'd been doing.  Michiru spoke about some of
the work she'd been doing on Europa, and Haruka told a story about a
drunken flare-rider she'd had to chase all the way out into the Oort
cloud that had them all laughing.  And Rei and Makoto had their own
stories to tell.

It had all been very pleasant and amicable.

    "It was just a silly argument.  Nothing important at all.  But it got
    out of hand ... neither of us would back down, and ... oh, it just
    went on and on!  For weeks, whenever we saw each other, we'd just
    end up bringing it up again ..."

Just a silly argument.  Meaningless.

Makoto was telling a long and rather unlikely story about when she'd
last seen Minako, and Rei saw the punch-line coming and beat her to it.
That was all.  They laughed about it, but Makoto got annoyed, and
gradually the conversation turned into friendly bickering.  Then
not-quite-so-friendly bickering.

All the same, the evening ended up well enough.  After all, they'd known
each other for so long, hadn't they?  Haruka and Michiru made their
excuses and left together, their arms around each other, and Makoto and
Rei watched them go and breathed envious sighs, and exchanged rueful
glances -- none of Makoto's marriages had lasted more than five years,
and Rei's record was even worse -- and then they too parted, perfectly
satisfied with the evening.

A few days later Serenity called them in to the Palace.  She had a job
for them in Holland, a fiddly thing; they'd have to work together pretty
closely for the next few weeks.  Well, that was fine, wasn't it?  They
were the best of friends.  Rei was quite looking forward to it; she so
seldom left Crystal Tokyo.

Which one of them brought it up again?  Such a little, petty thing.  It
was certainly only meant as a joke.  But the bantering became carping,
and the carping became an argument that turned acrimonious, and before
long they had to cut short the day's work.

Still, it wasn't important.  They were adults, and they were good
friends, and neither of them really wanted to continue with an argument
that was, really, so trivial.

But neither of them could leave it alone.

    "It just kept getting worse.  We knew each other so well, we knew
    all the wrong things to say ... we usually ended up shouting at each
    other ..."

Rei would never have dreamed that the day would come when she dreaded
seeing her friend.  She was quite sure that Makoto felt the same way.
And underneath it all, they were still friends.  They both of them knew
that what they were doing was foolish, insane.  A simple apology could
have ended it at any time.

Somehow, though, the apologies never quite came.  There was always the
need for one last quick jab before the humble words could be said; and
so of course the humble words never got said at all.  They had all but
forgotten the original argument by now.

So, little by little, the rift deepened.  Little by little, the hurt
accumulated, shaping something terrible out of a friendship nearly
fifteen hundred years old.  It was all unravelling, everything they had
gone through together; and neither could turn aside from the dark road
they were travelling.  Hot, angry words had been spoken, words that cut
deeper than any knife.

There came a time when there were no more words to be said.

    "One day I ... it was my fault, I went too far ... I said some
    horrible things to her, really horrible things, things I couldn't
    take back.  And then she said --"  Itsuko had stopped, shaken her
    head.  "No.  I don't want to think about what she said.  Not ever
    again.  And we fought, Artemis, we actually fought ..."

It came down to this: two Senshi, alone in a room, staring at each
other, enraged, fists clenched, each waiting for the other to make the
first move.

Makoto had never been the type to back down.  Neither had Rei; and they
had gone far past the point when either would have considered it.  The
damage had been done; the insults and curses -- and worse -- had been
exchanged.  Only two people who had been such good friends for so long
could have hurt each other so badly.

The time for apologies, for calm, reasoned words, was past.  Neither of
them could bear to try it again.  The hurt was too deep, the anger too
hot, and the pain of shattered friendship too raw.

It came down, finally, to this: two Senshi, alone in a room, staring at
each other.  And then, with no visible signal, flying at each other.

    "I think that was the worst thing I ever did.  We'd been such
    friends, for so long -- and all we could do was try to kill each
    other ...

    "I don't remember how it ended.  I truly don't.  Nobody stopped us,
    I know that much.  I don't think anyone else even knew.  But finally
    ... afterward ...

    "From that day until the Plague began, we never spoke.  We tried
    never to be in the same room together.  The few times we couldn't
    avoid each other, I could see that she hadn't forgotten a thing ...
    and I'm sure she could see that I hadn't either ..."

Old friends.

                                 --**--

"How did you get up here?" Itsuko asked coolly.

She could hear the confusion in Miyo's voice.  "I came in through the
car park.  I don't -- Rei, what's wrong?  Why are you so --"

"I asked Artemis not to bring you here.  Apparently he decided he knew
better."  Itsuko turned, looked Miyo in the eyes.  "I had to tell him
about -- before.  I'm sorry."

For a second longer she saw puzzlement in Miyo's expression.  Then it
vanished.  She saw the sudden memory dawn.  She saw the astonishment,
the horror; and lastly, in the instant before Miyo's face went perfectly
blank, what she had known would be there.  The anger.

Artemis must have seen it too.  "Um, excuse me ..." he began.  He
stopped when he saw how completely they were ignoring him.

"It was a long time ago," said Miyo slowly.

"Fifteen years," answered Itsuko.

"More like ... what, seven hundred and forty?"

"Fifteen years for you, though."

"That's true.  But I --"  Miyo stopped, shaking her head.  "Rei, I don't
want to do this.  I don't ... do we really have to dig this up again?"

"Oh, please.  Are you going to tell me that you just want to let it
drop?  After everything you said?  After everything _I_ said, for that
matter.  After that ... that day in Amsterdam?  I still have the scars,
if you don't."

"Unfair."  Unconsciously, Miyo rubbed her side, just below her ribs.  "I
had my share of scars."

"Just a moment," said Artemis sharply.  "Itsuko ... no, Rei.  You told
me that you'd forgiven her.  You said that after seven hundred years,
you'd --"

"Butt out, cat."  For an instant, real anger entered Itsuko's voice.
"That's beside the point ... isn't it, Makoto?"

"Beside the point?  Is that all you can say, 'beside the point'?" Miyo
demanded, outraged.  "Where do you get off?  You accuse me of trying to
just bury it all under the table, but you want to do the same thing?
What the hell are you trying to pull here?"

"I --"  Itsuko broke off.  It was all going wrong.  She wasn't ready for
this.  She wasn't ready for any of this.

"I know what you're doing," Miyo said in a low, dangerous voice.  She
didn't look sixteen years old at all, not now.  "You're trying to
manipulate me, just like before.  You want me to be the one to let it
drop, so you won't have to admit you were wrong!"

It hit Itsuko like a hammer-blow.  Was _that_ what she was doing?  Did
she really feel that strongly about it, after all this time?  Was she
really that much of a hypocrite?

No.  She couldn't be.  She couldn't bear it.

"That's not it," she heard herself saying.  It was as if someone else
was speaking through her lips.  "That's not it at all."

"What then?" demanded Miyo icily.

"I --"  She hesitated.  But there was nothing left now, nothing but the
truth.  "I need to know if you _can_ let it drop."

Miyo stared at her.

"Seven hundred years, Makoto," Itsuko said softly.  "Seven hundred years
is a long, long time.  Alone."

And so it was out at last.  Out in the open.  The two of them stared
at each other.  Itsuko bit her lip uneasily.  Miyo opened her mouth to
speak --

The commset buzzed.

Itsuko swore furiously and snatched the remote up, ready to bawl out
whoever it was.  But the words died unsaid when she heard Ochiyo's
voice.  "Itsuko-san?  There are some 'P' Division officers here to see
you.  They want to ask some more questions about the burglary on Monday
night."

Itsuko sighed.  "All right," she said heavily.  "Tell them I'll be down
in a couple of minutes."  She hung up and turned back to Miyo and
Artemis once more.

They were gone.  She was alone in the office.

"Shit."

                                 --**--

A little distance away from the Olympus, Miyo stopped to aim a vicious
kick at the wall of the building she was passing.  The wall stubbornly
refused to disintegrate, so she kicked it again, then again and again.
The violence was better -- anything was better -- than having to think
about ... things.  About the very bad day she was having.

"You could go back," Artemis suggested.

"Not a chance," she snarled.  "I'm not going to get sucked into that
again.  I won't let her ... won't let her manipulate me again, not the
way she --"

"Rei?  Manipulate?" said Artemis incredulously.  "Since when was she
ever that subtle?"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous.  Rei can be the most subtle person I ever met
when she --"  Miyo broke off in mid-sentence, shooting an unfriendly
glance at Artemis.  "Now who's trying to manipulate who?"

"Dammit, Miyo, can't you see she wants to end this?  She admitted it
herself!  And you said you didn't want to keep it going either!  Why
can't you just --"

"YOU SHUT UP!" shouted Miyo at the absolute top of her voice.  He
recoiled, shocked.  In an only slightly lower voice she went on, "Damn
you, you weren't _there_!  You don't know!  You -- you had no business
butting your nose into this!  You don't know what happened!"

They stared at each other for a moment: Artemis tense, ready to run;
Miyo white with rage, her fists and her teeth clenched.

A hand fell on Miyo's shoulder.

She whirled, furious, ready to strike -- and stopped suddenly.  It was
Ichiyo standing there, looking unusually serious.  Fujimaro was a little
distance behind.  He looked scared.

"Calm down, Miyo," said Ichiyo in a low voice.  "You're making a
spectacle of yourself."

"What are you --" she began.

"Everyone's looking at you, oneesan," said Fujimaro in a thin, strained
voice.

She looked around quickly.  There were several other people in the
street, and most of them were watching her.  As she met their eyes, they
looked away quickly.  [How much did they hear?] she thought.  Her anger
was gone, melting away in a sudden rush of embarrassment ... and fear.

Her eyes flicked back to Fujimaro.  Why did he look so nervous?  And
Ichiyo seemed so serious --

[Oh, no.  They think I'm cracking up.]

[Maybe they're right ...]

"What are you doing here?" she asked stupidly.  A moment later she felt
like biting her tongue.  This was the fashionable part of town, the
place where the trendy set hung out; and it was after nine on a Saturday
evening.  Ichiyo fit in here perfectly.  It was she who didn't belong.

"I think you should come home," Ichiyo said quietly, ignoring her
question.

She looked at him for a moment, then back to Fujimaro; and finally,
quickly, down to Artemis.  But the cat had his back turned, refusing to
look at her.  As she watched, he slowly walked away, never looking back.

She turned back to Ichiyo.  "Yes," she said, in a low, defeated voice.

They escorted her home, one on either side of her.  She was surrounded
by family, by brothers she knew cared for her.  But she had never felt
so alone.


                            ****************


Number Twelve knocked gingerly on the door.  A voice said, "Come," and
she opened it and entered the office.

The chairman looked up briefly, said, "Sit," and went back to the file
he was reading, occasionally adding an annotation.  Twelve sat down and
waited, trying not to appear impatient.  It wasn't easy.  The waiting
game was an old power ploy -- childish, really -- but that did not stop
it being effective.

"Have you seen the latest reports from 'D' Division?" the chairman asked
suddenly, not lifting his eyes from the monitor screen.

"I haven't had much chance to keep up lately," Twelve answered shortly.
The chairman knew that as well as she did.  The Vitrimorph project was
taking all her time.

"Mm.  We have to remember there's a world outside, though."  The
chairman shook his head, sighing, and switched the monitor off.  "We're
getting quite a lot of pressure from other countries to take an official
position on the Senshi.  After all, we rule in their name."  He laughed
dryly.

Twelve frowned.  "Is it serious?" she asked.

"Not yet.  'D' Division can take care of any situations that develop.
But before long we will have to make a statement on the matter.  We're
beginning to look bad, and we can't afford that.  The Yen has dropped
slightly already."

"But -- what kind of position _can_ we take?  We can hardly announce
that we're going to stand down in favour of a bunch of young girls!"

"Mm.  And yet, our other solution to the problem doesn't seem to be
working too well, does it?"  The chairman's eyes hardened suddenly.
"Report," he ordered.

She took a deep breath and began describing the operation: the selection
of an attack site in the area where they suspected the Senshi were
based; the commencement of the attack; and the arrival of Sailor
Mercury.  The chairman stopped her once or twice to ask questions, but
for the most part he listened in silence, expressionless.

When she reached the end of her story, he nodded slowly.  "And your
analysis?" he inquired.

She shrugged.  "Their powers and their teamwork are still raw, and their
grasp of tactics is almost non-existent.  The only thing that saved them
was the ... the childish nature of the attack.  An animated dressmaker's
dummy!  If we were to to use the full range that the vitrimorphs are
capable of --"

"That is out of the question, as you should know.  These ... childish
attacks, as you put it ... are exactly what we need."  He smiled.  "At
least for now."

"Yes, but --"

"Which brings me to another matter."  He glanced down at a sheet of
paper on his desk.  "Your report seems to have been incomplete in one
important respect."

She froze.  He'd had somebody else watching?  Checking up on her?

"'I'm leaving.  Kill them all,'" the chairman read aloud.  "Those were
your words?"

She licked her lips nervously.  "I -- they scared me.  I didn't --"

"You were well aware of the purpose of this operation.  The Senshi must
not be harmed until they have achieved our objective.  And yet --"  He
shook his head sadly.  "You ordered the vitrimorph to kill.  You told it
not to hold back, when holding back is precisely the point."  He folded
his gloved hands, and looked up at her.  "Have you any excuse to offer?"

"I was afraid!  I -- please --"

"I thought not."  He touched a button on his desk.  "This is not the
first time your behaviour has been ... unsatisfactory.  I'm afraid that
our Master takes as dim a view of it as I do."

Behind her, the door opened.  She tried to get up, to run, but her
muscles refused to obey.  Her body was no longer her own.  The Master
was in control.

"You have been allowed too great a level of autonomy.  Fortunately, this
can easily be corrected."

She felt hands on her shoulders, dragging her to her feet.  Her neck
still worked; when she turned her head, she saw Three and Five, her
colleagues, standing there.  She opened her mouth to beg for help, but
her tongue froze before she could utter a word.

"A second-stage initiation should take care of matters."  The chairman
leaned back in his seat, his face expressionless.  "Take her away."

She could not speak, but she could still scream as they dragged her out.

                                 --**--

The chairman sat at his desk for some time, staring down at his hands.
He had fought too, once.  He still paid the price, even today.  But it
was for the best.  Now, he knew how foolish it was to struggle.  Twelve
should have remembered that.  She would be reminded, soon enough.

With a sigh, he turned to the next report on his screen.  A preliminary
analysis of another one of the day's disasters.  That was one he wasn't
going to be able to discuss in his office, though.

He glanced at the clock display on his screen.  Almost three in the
morning.  Well, too bad.  The one he needed to talk to would still be
up.

He left his office without ceremony.  A chauffeur was waiting outside.
The chairman gave his orders, allowed himself to be helped into a car,
and settled back with a sigh.  Moments later they were humming through
the night.

It took fifteen minutes to reach the 'M' Division offices.  The building
was mostly darkened at this hour, but there were still lights on in some
of the assembly and maintenance bays.  He nodded at that, satisfied.
Whatever else he was, he was still the director of 'M' Division, and it
pleased him to see that his people were on the job.

He nodded to the security guard in the lobby, and was allowed through
promptly -- he couldn't use one of the palm-print readers, of course.
In the elevator, he slipped a plain white card into the maintenance-key
slot.  The elevator started downward immediately.

Sixty metres below ground, he stepped out into a dimly-lit passage.  The
guards here didn't wave him through; they covered him with their weapons
while they checked his retinal print.  At last he was allowed to pass,
and walked through the doors into M's workroom.

One end of the laboratory had been cleared of equipment.  The space thus
created was filled with the remains of an 'S' Division Opal.
Disassembled components and pieces of wreckage were strewn across the
floor in what, to him, looked like a haphazard arrangement, but to M was
probably perfectly logical.  He stepped through them gingerly.

M was not in sight at first, but after a few seconds he heard a scraping
sound and the scientist clambered awkwardly out of the wreckage,
carrying a complex-looking unit that dangled a maze of severed optical
connectors.

"What have you found?" the chairman asked quietly.

M jumped, apparently seeing him for the first time, then sighed.  "I
should have known you'd come here tonight."

"Have you found anything?" the chairman asked again.

"There has scarcely been time --"  M stopped suddenly, seeing the
chairman's expression, then dumped the unit unceremoniously down on a
workbench and sat down, yawning.  "No.  Or rather, nothing useful.
Something caused a whole series of failure signals to go off at once.
Everything in the Opal simply shut down.  I can't explain why."

"Was it something to do with the new sensors you designed?"

"No!  Nothing I designed could possibly do that."

"But are you sure?" the chairman insisted.  "If it was some kind of flaw
that was already in the Opals --"

"All right.  All right."  M sat back, rubbing eyes that were reddened
from lack of sleep.  "That much I'm sure of, at least.  The other Opals
are safe.  But --"

"But you have no idea why this one crashed."

"I only received the wreckage two hours ago!" M snapped.  "No, I've no
idea, yet.  And I cannot see how it could have been the new sensors,
either.  Most of the internal logs were erased, but I managed to recover
enough to show that the sensors had been active for some time, and were
functioning normally when the failure occurred."

"That matches what the pilot says," the chairman said.

"Eh?  Oh, yes, of course.  Can I get a copy of the debriefing report?
It might help."

The chairman hesitated.  The debriefing report would show what the Opal
had been doing when it crashed, and he didn't want to give too much away
to the scientist.  "I'll see what I can do," he temporised.

"Huh."  M scowled at him.  "It would be helpful if I had some idea what
these sensors are _for_.  The specifications you gave me were so broad,
I --"  The chairman raised his eyebrows, and M sighed.  "All right. I'll
keep on checking.  I suppose it's possible that there was some kind of
interference between the wave buffers in the sensor unit and the
propulsion field sink, though it's hard to see how.  Or maybe a
hysteresis effect ... I'll have to run some simulations ..."

The chairman ignored the gobbledegook.  "How long will that take?  There
is a certain amount of urgency in the matter."

"There always is."  M considered.  "I'll try to push it, but these
things take time.  Just calculating the parameters --"

"I'm sure it would be very inconvenient for you if you had to do your
work from a wheelchair."

There was a short silence.

"Yes, it would," said M softly.  "There's no need to make threats,
though.  I'll do my best.  But it's still going to take time."

He was regretting his words already.  "As long as we understand each
other," he said mildly.  "I'm sure that your best will be sufficient, as
always."

M snorted.  "How trite.  I never give less than my best."  And then,
after a pause: "Anyway, it's not as though I have anything else to do,
down here."

"No," said the chairman.  "No, you don't, do you?"


                            ****************


"Captain?"

Hiiro looked up from the report he was reading.  "What is it, Mitsukai?"

There was a slight frown on her face.  "There's a message from
headquarters.  They want you for a meeting there tomorrow."

Now it was his turn to frown.  "Unusual," he said thoughtfully.  "What's
on their minds, I wonder?"  He got up and stepped back to her 'control
centre' -- the tiny corner of the van that had been fitted out with her
comms equipment and computer.

"Let's see," he murmured, reading over her shoulder.  "'Lack of
progress' ... I expected that, and they should have too.  What else? 
'In line of recent developments' -- that's interesting.  I wonder if
someone else has made a breakthrough?"

"They could mean the Hoseki connection," she offered.

He shook his head.  "HQ doesn't know that has anything to do with our
case.  I've got a couple of people looking into Hoseki, but that's
nothing unusual.  No, it must be something else.  They --"  He stopped
suddenly, and swore.  "Wait a minute.  Midori found out, didn't he?
Last Wednesday, when you and Kitada were checking the property files."

She nodded.  "Damn!" he went on.  "That'll be it.  Midori knows
perfectly well that Hoseki is a dead end, but someone's leaning on
Colonel Shiro for results, so Midori's brought it up.  That's all we
need -- another red herring to get in the way."

"So what do we do?" she asked after a moment.

"What _can_ we do?" he shot back.  "You send back an acknowledgement and
tell them I'll be there for the meeting, that's what we do."  He thought
about it and added, "Tell them I'll bring Kitada with me.  He saw the
files section, and it'll do him good to get a look at the desk-job end
of things."

"Yes, sir."  Her fingers rattled briefly on the keyboard.  "Anything
else?"

"I don't think so."  He eyed her sharply.  "Wait a minute.  How long
have you been on duty there?"  At her sudden change of expression he
said, "What have I told you about that before?  As a matter of fact ..."

He stepped over to a wall chart and scanned through it.  "I thought so.
You were supposed to be in the gym an hour and a half ago."

"Sir --" she began.  He cut her off.

"It's not just to spy on the clients, you know.  It's important for you,
as well.  You can't stay glued to that console all day long."  He patted
her shoulder, smiling.  "Go on, now.  Get moving."

He returned to the report he'd been working on, carefully not thinking
about how many hours he'd been on duty himself.  Rank had its
privileges.

At her console, Mitsukai sat for some time, touching her shoulder where
he'd patted it, a curious expression on her face.  At last, obediently,
she got up, fetched her gym bag, and stepped out of the van, blinking in
the afternoon sunlight.


                            ****************


Beth trotted cheerfully toward school, Bendis just behind her.  It was a
cloudy Monday morning, but the air was warm and the day promised to be
sunny by afternoon.

"What's got you so happy today?" grouched Bendis as they went.  Beth hid
a smile.  Yesterday the cat had announced that she would be going into
school with her.  She insisted that she had some important things to
check out at the school, but Beth was pretty sure that she was just
going stir-crazy, stuck in the house all day.  Today, though, she'd been
downright testy when Beth woke her up.  In almost three weeks at the
McCrea home, Bendis had developed a definite preference for sleeping in
in the morning.

"Oh, nothing," Beth answered.

It was nearly true.  Actually, she was rather looking forward to school
today -- or, more specifically, to seeing Nanako.  After all, she and
the other Senshi had destroyed another monster on Saturday afternoon,
and then been chased all over Third Tokyo.  She was eager to hear what
the rumour mill had to say.

[Who are those other Senshi, anyway?  Jupiter and Mercury.  Maybe next
time I'll get a chance to talk to them properly ...]

She was so lost in her thoughts that, as she veered around a corner, she
ran straight into someone before she noticed they were there.  A moment
later, both of them were sprawled on the ground.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Beth said hastily as she got up onto her hands
and knees.  "I wasn't looking where I was going, I'm so sorry --"

"It's all right," said the person she'd run into.  Another girl, Beth
realised; a little taller than herself, with dark brown shoulder-length
hair and a sombre expression.  She was wearing a different school's
uniform, with red-copper piping on the sleeves, and she was rubbing her
elbow as she stood up.

"Are you okay?  Beth asked.  "I didn't --"

"I'm fine," said the other girl patiently, still rubbing her elbow.  She
bent down to pick up her satchel, and Beth caught a glimpse of a name
printed neatly on its side: [Itagaki].  "I have to get going," she added
before Beth could say anything else.  "Good-bye."

"Er -- sorry," Beth repeated weakly as the girl hurried off.  Shaking
her head and sighing -- and rubbing one or two sore places herself --
she picked up her own satchel and started back toward school.

"Just a moment," Bendis said before she'd gotten more than a few steps.
She looked back.  The cat was watching the other girl hurrying away in
the opposite direction.

"What is it?" Beth asked, a little impatiently.  If they didn't hurry,
she'd be late.

"There's something funny about that girl," Bendis said slowly.

"What?" said Beth, not really paying attention.  "No, that's just a
different school uniform.  Hibari, I think --"  She stopped suddenly.
"Funny in what way?" she asked cautiously.

"Umm, I'm not exactly sure," Bendis admitted.  "I'd have to touch her
to be certain."

"Do you think she might be another Senshi?" asked Beth excitedly.

"I don't know!  She -- it didn't feel anything like when I first found
you.  It could be something else entirely."

Beth blinked.  "Like what?"

"Er --"  Bendis hesitated.  "Well, I'm sure there could be other
explanations --"  She saw Beth's expression and hastily added, "I'm
going to follow her, just to make sure.  I'll see you later, okay?"

Beth scratched her head, watching as Bendis took off after the other
girl.  Something suddenly occurred to her.  "Hey, Bendis!" she shouted.

Bendis stopped, looking back.  "What?"

"Don't go dropping any pianos on her head, all right?"


                            ****************


Dhiti listened to the teacher with half an ear, toying idly with a
pencil.  She was bored.  She usually enjoyed history class -- it was the
only subject she liked enough to bother to do well at -- but she'd
already read several books about the Refounding, and the teacher wasn't
saying anything she didn't know.  Actually, she probably knew more about
it than he did.

Instead she was thinking about Miyo.  Something was wrong there,
something she couldn't make out.

Saturday evening, at least, had been comprehensible.  Then, after the
battle, Miyo had been grief-stricken at the loss of a friend.  Dhiti
could understand that, at least, and it had troubled her that she hadn't
been able to do a thing.  (Strange, really, how much it did bother her.
When had Miyo's well-being started to become so important to her?  They
were friends, sure, but this was different.)

Today, though, Miyo wasn't sad.  She was ... different.  Distant. Cold. 
Depressed, perhaps.  She looked straight through people as if they
weren't there.  She brooded.  Sometimes, she looked as though she wanted
to kill someone.  Even the teachers noticed it, and left her alone in
class.  It was ... Dhiti groped for the right word.  It was eerie. 
Completely unlike the Miyo she knew.  Normally she was so totally open,
you could read her like a book.  Today, all the pages were blank.

Dhiti had been watching her all morning, and she couldn't make out what
it was.  At times she thought Miyo was about to explode, fly into a
rage.  At other times it seemed more as if she were about to cry.
Something had happened over the weekend, but Dhiti couldn't get her to
talk about it.  When they'd arrived at school that morning she'd tried
to speak to her, but Miyo just brushed her off, as if --

"-- tell us, Sharma-chan?"

She jumped, her attention suddenly brought back to the classroom.
Eguchi-sensei was looking at her expectantly.  Whoops.  What had he
asked her?

"Sorry, sensei," she said, beaming at him.  "I was so wrapped up in your
brilliant oratory that the question just flew right past me."

Nobody in the classroom even snickered.  They were used to this.  Pity.

Eguchi-sensei just sighed.  "I asked, Dhiti-san, if you could tell us
some of the guiding principles that allowed the Refounding to occur?"

Dhiti thought about it for a moment.  An easy question, but ...  "Blind
luck, and royal whim," she said.

It would have gotten her into trouble in any other class.  Eguchi-sensei
knew her well enough -- and, more importantly, knew how much she loved
history -- that he only raised his eyebrows and said, "Explain."

Dhiti grinned.  "Blind luck that the Archives weren't destroyed in the
Great Fall, so the Founders' expedition could find them in 4102 --"

                                 --**--

In 4102, the world was in the depths of a new Dark Age.

The fall of Crystal Tokyo in 3478 had left a ruined planet in its wake.
When Queen Serenity died, the world died with her.  Every crystal-based
form of technology simply stopped working; and after so many centuries,
few other forms of technology still existed.  Every piece of machinery,
every computer, every lamp and every library-reader was suddenly dead.
Before long, so were most of the people.

Without technology, the automated farms stopped working.  Without
readers to display the library crystals, nobody could look up how to run
the farms themselves.  And without the farms, everybody starved ...

Not quite everybody.  A few settlements remained, mostly built around
places where rare troves of _printed_ books remained.  They weren't much
help, usually -- there are few practical hints for running a farm in an
antique copy of "Oliver Twist" -- but sometimes they were enough for a
primitive kind of civilisation to survive.  In time, they learned to do
better.

Inevitably, though, the enclaves themselves became targets for those who
had nothing.  Over the years, bands of raiders and petty warlords took
their toll.  By the year 4102, not many enclaves were left.

Some of them did well, though.  In 4102, the Cuddalore enclave in
south-east India was both prosperous and secure.  During a brief period
of expansionist zeal they outfitted a sailing ship and sent an
expedition to Japan -- to the ruins of Crystal Tokyo itself, where, it
was hoped, they would find some kind of booty or relic that might make
the enormous cost of the trip worthwhile.

The ruins were deserted.  The fall of the city had devastated the area
for a long way around, and though the blasted regions had finally grown
over and become fertile again, few people had returned.  The Cuddalore
expedition simply walked in, pitched camp, and started exploring.

Two weeks later they struck gold.  No, not gold.  Platinum, diamonds ...
no, more valuable than that.  They struck history.  They found the
Royal Archives.

The man who found the entrance -- who managed to break the seal and open
the door, and descended the steps into the first underground vault --
had never heard of Howard Carter, and never would.  But the sense of
wonder and awe that he felt, as he raised his lantern and looked out
over the contents of the first chamber of the Archives, were feelings
that Carter, thousands of years before, would have recognised.

He had expected to find another library: a computer core, filled with
racks of crystals.  Pretty things, but useless; worth a little as
trinkets, but barely enough to make them worth taking home.  Instead, he
found the future.

Because the room didn't contain storage crystals at all.  It contained
books.  Printed books.  Thousands upon thousands of books.

                                 --**--

"Yes, it has been commented upon," admitted Eguchi-sensei.  "The
survival of the Archives was certainly remarkable.  Calling it 'blind
luck' might be a little excessive, though."

"Practically nothing else in Crystal Tokyo survived," pointed out Dhiti,
"not even other underground facilities.  But all of the Archive vaults
were intact."

A treasure trove beyond imagination.  The stored knowledge of an entire
civilisation, perfectly preserved.  Vaults of books -- and, in other
chambers, different kinds of treasures: paintings; sculpture; other
works of art; audio and video records, etched onto little silvery metal
disks; and so much more.  A short-cut to civilisation, everything the
explorers needed to know to be able to start again.  Within a year,
there were electric lights shining in the ruins.  In ten years, they
weren't ruins any more.

The teacher chuckled.  "All right, then.  I'll accept 'blind luck' for
now.  But what about 'royal whim'?"

"Why else would they contain books, instead of storage crystals?" Dhiti
said promptly.  "Nobody was _making_ books any more.  Queen Serenity and
the Senshi were the only ones who really even remembered them.  It has
to have been a Royal decree."

Today, the Archives were sheltered under a great dome at the heart of
Third Tokyo.  That was a 'royal whim,' if you like; the Serenity Council
decreed it, and it was so.  The dome had been completed twenty years
before, at colossal expense.  It was surrounded by a huge forested park,
and was lit up at night.  From the air, it looked like a giant glowing
eye in the middle of the city.

"It might have been Lady Mizuno's suggestion," Dhiti added cheekily.
"She's supposed to have liked books.  Or maybe Meiou-sama knew the Fall
was coming, so she arranged it --"

"Ah, yes," said Eguchi-sensei.  "The mythical Sailor Pluto.  But I think
we're getting into some grey areas here, historically speaking.  As I'm
sure you're aware, there's nothing in the Archives to suggest that such
a person actually existed --"

The lunch-break bell chimed, cutting him off.  A few students had been
following the argument with interest; most of the rest simply breathed
sighs of relief as they hurried out of the classroom.

Dhiti stayed at her desk for a few moments, watching Miyo.  The tall
girl rose slowly and started for the door.  Her expression was difficult
to read: distracted, distant.  At least she didn't look actually hostile
at the moment.  Maybe she'd be willing to talk now.  Dhiti hurried after
her.

"It wasn't quite like that," Miyo said absently as she caught up.

Dhiti blinked.  "What wasn't?"

"The Archives.  It wasn't just a ... whim.  It was supposed to be a
memorial.  A reminder of what the world had been, before the Great Ice.
It was a museum as well as a library."

That was an interesting idea.  Dhiti thought about it.  "But what about
the records from Crystal Tokyo itself?  Shouldn't they have been on
library crystals, then?"

"I think most of them were.  There were copies of everything on crystal,
of course.  But the archivists got very proud of their books, and they
kept on making them.  They invented some kind of special paper that
would last almost forever ... I remember they set up a printing press
behind the Palace."

"And what about Meiou-sama?  Sailor Pluto?  Was she for real?"

There was the ghost of a smile on Miyo's lips.  "Sorry, that's a state
secret."

"Oh, come _on_!" Dhiti burst out indignantly.  Miyo's smile widened a
little.

"Fine," Dhiti grouched.  "Be that way.  See if I care.  Some friend you
are."

The smile vanished like a soap bubble bursting.  A quick flash of
something -- pain, perhaps, or regret -- flashed across Miyo's face.
Then, her expression quite blank, she started to turn away.

Dhiti stared after her.  She'd said something wrong, but what?  "Wait a
minute!" she said.  "What's the matter?"

Miyo did not respond.  She stood, her back turned, her head hanging.
She did not appear to be breathing.  Dhiti grabbed her by the shoulder
and shouted, "Dammit, Hayashi!  What's the matter?  What did I say?
Will you _talk_ to me!"

The other girl did not answer for a moment.  At last she said in a low
voice, "Talking doesn't help.  Sometimes it just makes it worse."

With some difficulty, Dhiti bit back the flippant answer that tried to
burst out.  The walls were down, she realised; just for a moment, Miyo
was wide open.  But something told her that she had to be careful.  One
more careless remark and they'd slam back up.  Maybe for good.

She took a deep breath.  "That depends on what you say," she tried
gingerly.

Miyo looked back at her, and there was a world of torment in her eyes. 
"What do you say when you've said everything, and nothing helped?" she
asked.

[Has she been fighting with someone?] Dhiti thought frantically.  [But
who?  Why?]  She didn't know what to do.  But Miyo was waiting, waiting
for her to make it better, and she had to tell her something.

"You could say 'I'm sorry,'" she suggested.

Miyo actually flinched.  "But what if it's too late?" she whispered.

"What if it isn't?" said Dhiti.

They stared at each other for some time.  At last Miyo said, in a voice
that cracked, "I'm scared that she _won't_ be sorry."

And finally Dhiti could no longer hold back the question.  "Who?" she
asked.  "Who is it?  What's happened?"

"Who?"  Miyo laughed mirthlessly.  "Nobody you know.  Somebody who's
been dead for a long time."

"You mean --"  Dhiti swallowed with difficulty.  "Do you mean ... Lady
Mizuno?"

"Ami?"  Miyo gave that laugh again.  "No.  Don't you remember?  She died
on Saturday evening.  You were there."

And with that she turned her back and strode off.  Dhiti did not try
to follow.

After a while she felt a tap on her shoulder, and turned to see Kin,
Liam and Mark grinning at her.  She managed to grin back, and for the
rest of the lunch break she gave a very convincing simulation of having
a good time, which fooled nobody.


                            ****************


Masao followed Hiiro in through the foyer of 'S' Division headquarters.
Rather to his surprise, there was a sign outside clearly marking the
building as 'S' Division.  He'd expected it to be hidden somehow:
perhaps disguised as a shipping corporation, or something.  When he said
as much, Hiiro laughed.

"Sure, we've got camouflaged offices and depots and safe-houses and so
on.  But we _are_ a government agency, remember.  We have to have a
public face too.  Someplace where the crazies can come in off the street
and report their neighbours for hoarding beans.  Somewhere" -- he shot a
wry glance at Masao -- "where people can sign up as Irregulars."

Masao cleared his throat.  "I promise you, I've never hoarded a single
bean in my life --"

They made their way up to the sixth floor, both laughing.  Public
offices or not, Masao noticed that security _was_ tight.  They had to
show their IDs three times on the way.  Hiiro's was a pale blue card. 
Masao, as an Irregular, had an orange one.

Two men were waiting for them in the sixth floor reception.  Masao
recognised one of them: Lieutenant Midori.  The two exchanged cool nods.
The nod Midori gave Hiiro was even cooler.

The other man, Colonel Shiro, was tall and lean, with iron-grey hair and
thick, bushy eyebrows.  He smiled as he shook Masao's hand.
"Kitada-san," he said.  "With us a little longer than expected, I see."

"It's been a very, er, educational experience, sir," Masao said,
grinning.

"I'm sure," Shiro said with a chuckle.  "You've met my ADC, Midori, I
think."  At Masao's nod, he turned his attention to Hiiro.  "Captain,
good to see you again.  Sorry to pull you in like this --"  Hiiro
shrugged.  "Yes.  Well, we've got one other guest coming in for this
afternoon's meeting.  He should be arriving in just a few minutes ..."

As he spoke, the elevator chimed, and two men stepped out.  One of them,
to Masao's admittedly inexperienced eye, looked like a typical flunky.
He recognised the other one immediately, though.  A little less than
average height, with a bullet head and bright, lively eyes, and a face
that was famous not through public appearances (for he made almost
none) but through his frequent appearance in caricature in editorial
cartoons.  Takeda Ryobe, Number Three of the Serenity Council, the
director of 'S' Division.

"Director," said Shiro, bowing his head respectfully.

Takeda nodded quickly.  "Colonel," he said.  "These are the officers
you mentioned?"

"Yes, sir.  Captain Hiiro Yoichi" -- Hiiro bowed -- "and this is one of
our Irregular agents, Kitada Masao."  Masao bowed too.

"Irregular, eh?  And not doing quite the sort of work you imagined we
do, I'll wager."  Takeda gave a quick smile.  "I assure you, we do do
other things besides looking for lost cats."  Masao started to stammer
an answer, but the director was no longer paying attention.  "Colonel,
let's get started, if you please.  I have another appointment at half
past three --"

Shiro nodded.  "Yes, sir.  This way, please."  They followed him through
into a meeting room, except for the flunky, who remained behind at the
reception desk.  As Shiro closed the conference room door, the
atmosphere inside took on a curiously dead quality, and Masao realised
that the room was sound-proofed.

"Now," Takeda said briskly, almost before Shiro was seated.  "I hear
that our cat search has unearthed some ... unexpected connections."

Shiro's eyes flicked toward Hiiro.  Hiiro sighed.  "Yes, sir," he said.
"Or at least the possibility.  Our investigations have been centred
around the Olympus Gymnasium.  Kitada-san here reported a lost-and-found
poster on the notice-board there, for a cat which closely matches the
description of the cat we're after -- right down to the scarred
forehead."

"I have confirmation of that," said Midori, sliding a sheet of paper
across to Takeda.

Hiiro shot him an irritated look.  "We confirmed the existence of the
poster ourselves," he went on.  "But the next day, it had been removed,
and none of the gymnasium staff claim to know anything about it.  We've
been questioning clients and --"

"Yes, yes, that's understood," said Takeda impatiently.  "I've seen your
reports.  Get to the new developments."

Masao caught his breath, wondering if Hiiro was going to reveal that
they'd seen Artemis prowling around the gymnasium.  To his relief, Hiiro
avoided the subject completely.

"Last Tuesday, the owner of the Olympus received a visit from three men.
One of them was a known Sankaku agent."  He slid a photograph across
the desk.  It showed three men entering a building.  A ring was drawn
around one of them.

"And the other two?" inquired Takeda, studying it.

"Unconfirmed.  The man in front is Okuda Jiro, a security consultant.
Reported as a Sankaku agent four years ago.  He does occasional work for
the Hoseki Property Group --"

"Hoseki?" said Shiro sharply.  "Damnation!  Then --"

"Yes, sir.  There'd been a break-in at the gymnasium that morning, and
their security contract is with Hoseki."

"And Hoseki is owned by the Sankaku, but is ninety-nine percent
legitimate," completed Shiro.  "So the contact with them was quite
possibly innocent.  Is that it?"

"Yes, sir," said Hiiro reluctantly.

Takeda frowned.  "So it's a false alarm, then?"

Hiiro shrugged.  "Probably.  I've put extra surveillance on Hoseki,
just in case, but I'm not really expecting to come up with anything."

"After all, why would the Sankaku be interested in a cat in the first
place?" put in Masao.  "There's not much a bunch of criminals can _do_
with one, except maybe hold it for ransom ..."  He trailed off.  All the
others were exchanging glances.  "What?" he asked.

"The Sankaku are not precisely criminals," said Shiro carefully.  "That
is the image we prefer to give them, true, and the way they get reported
in the news media.  But while they support themselves through criminal
activities, we are fairly sure that they have some other goal than the
accumulation of wealth or power.  It is possible that they are
revolutionaries --"

"Probable," said Takeda curtly.

"Probable, then."  Shiro's face showed how likely he thought that was.
"The Sankaku are a group of three organisations -- they call themselves
clans.  The three often work together, but they have their own separate
leadership and methods ... and, we suspect, their own agendas."  He
sighed.  "Hiiro, you'd better give him some of the briefing papers on
the Sankaku.  It looks as though they may be helpful.  This cat case is
turning into a _nightmare_!"

"Yes, sir.  Kitada, the point to remember is that while we've managed to
infiltrate the clans, several times, we've never gotten anybody into
their very top leadership.  We don't know _what_ they're after, but
we're sure it isn't just money.  And they've managed to infiltrate us a
few times, too.  So the situation is, we watch each other very closely.
If the Clans know we're interested in cats -- and we can be sure that
by now, they _do_ know -- then they'll be interested in cats as well."

Masao shook his head.  "But why _are_ we interested in cats?" he
said plaintively.  "Nobody seems to know!"

A curious hush fell around the table.  Shiro's face was quite blank.
So was Hiiro's.  Midori started to turn toward the head of the table,
but stopped suddenly and stared downward.

Finally, Masao realised just who had issued the order for the search.

"So," said Takeda softly.  "To summarise: we have a possible link
between your investigation and the Sankaku.  A dubious link, to be
sure."  He pursed his lips.  "Under the circumstances, it would be
safest to check it thoroughly.  Colonel, do we have anybody inside
Hoseki?"

"Lieutenant?" said Shiro.

"One moment, sir."  Midori tapped an inquiry into his comm.  "Ahh ...
yes, sir," he announced a few seconds later.  "One Irregular."

Takeda frowned.  "Not enough.  Colonel, I'm thinking that it would be a
good idea to send a few teams in and clear out Hoseki thoroughly.  Even
if we don't find anything, it's always wise to cut the Sankaku back
occasionally."  Shiro raised his eyebrows, then nodded slowly.  "Good.
See what the Analysis section can come up with.  It might be best to
raid a few of their other fronts at the same time, to hide what we're
really interested in."

"Yes, sir.  I'll let you have our proposals by ... Wednesday?"

"Good."  Takeda stood up.  "Well, gentlemen.  Thank you for coming.
Good to see you again, Shiro."  He opened the door and strode out.
The other three followed him more slowly.

                                 --**--

Kitada sent downstairs with Midori to look through the latest briefing
papers on the Sankaku.  Hiiro remained for a few moments to speak
privately with Colonel Shiro.

"Very interesting," he murmured.

"So it was," replied Shiro, equally quietly.  "I'm most grateful to you
for bringing Kitada in.  I don't think I'd have dared ask that question.
At least not quite as directly as he did ..."

"No."  Hiiro smiled.  "Kitada can be quite direct."

"So how is he working out?" asked Shiro, raising one eyebrow.  "The
truth, not what you put in your reports."

Hiiro shrugged.  "The truth _is_ what's in the reports.  He's working
out very well.  He doesn't have all the training he needs, of course,
but he's bright and he's picking it up fast."  He scratched his chin
thoughtfully and added, "Actually, that's one of the reasons I brought
him in today -- so he could get a look at the other side of the
business.  When this job is finished, I'm going to invite him to sign on
permanently."

"Oh?  Do you think he's likely to accept?"

"Quite possibly.  He does have an aptitude for thinking around corners
... once he got over the shock, that is."  Hiiro grinned.  When Kitada
had started, he'd been quite horrified at some of the underhanded
techniques he was being taught.  "He's been running a background check
on one of the Olympus staff for a few days.  Kuroi's monitoring him, but
Kitada's doing quite well on his own."

"Well, we'll see," said Shiro, shaking his head and grinning back.  "For
now ... let's head down to my office.  I'm going to want your input on
these raids --"


                            ****************


"Umm, I'm sorry," Beth said reluctantly.  It was Wednesday lunch-break,
and the group were gathered in their usual spot.  "I can't.  My Mom
wants to get me some new clothes, and the way she goes about it, it
usually takes hours.  I'm probably going to be tied up all Friday
evening."

Nanako wrinkled her brow.  "Are you sure?  I already bought my ticket."

"I'm sorry," Beth repeated with a sigh.  "I told you already, yesterday.
I can't."  Curiosity made her add, "What movie is it?"

"'Icewalker III'.  Oh, come on!  You've got to have seen the ads!  You
know -- 'He treads the wastelands of the Great Ice' ... c'mon, you must
have seen the first two in the series?"  Beth shook her head nervously
and Nanako looked pained.

"That whole series is so stupid," grumbled Eitoku.  "I mean, the whole
world was asleep during the Great Ice.  Everyone knows that."

"They explained that in the first movie!" pointed out Nanako, irritated.
"There was this stasis capsule that malfunctioned and --"

"Oh, please, that is just so --"

"Well if you think it's so dumb, why did you agree to come and see it?"

As Eitoku spluttered and fumbled for an answer, scarlet-faced, Nanako
turned to Iku.  "What about you, Iku-chan?  You've got to see this!"

Iku looked taken aback, flushing an even brighter red than Eitoku.  "Oh,
no ... I couldn't.  I have a dentist appointment on Friday afternoon,
and ... I ... I'm not going to be anywhere near ..."  She trailed off
uncertainly.

Everyone winced in sympathy.  "Heckuva lot better excuse than yours,
Beth-chan," muttered Nanako.

"What?" said Beth.  "But it's not --"

She was cut off as the school bell rang. With a sigh, she shook her head
and stood up, trudging back inside.  The others, with their own various
groans of disappointment and sighs of resignation, collected their
things and followed her.

Nanako hung back for a moment.  As Beth and Iku walked on ahead, she
glanced over to Eitoku and said, "You see?  I told you it'd work."

                                 --**--

Hideo crept out of the bushes after the two were out of sight.  He was
doing much better now; he was fairly sure that even Nanako hadn't
spotted him today.  He stood up straight, stretched, and began to brush
the dead leaves and fragments of bark off his clothes as he, too, headed
back in to class.

A moment later he stopped, seeing something lying in the grass where the
four had been sitting.  He picked it up.  It was a sheet of paper,
crumpled and dirty.  He stared at it for a few seconds, uncomprehending,
then stuffed it in his pocket and ran off.


                            ****************


Miyo lay in bed, listening to Miliko's regular breathing and trying to
think.  The last two days had been pure misery.  Artemis wasn't talking
to her.  Dhiti seemed afraid to breathe when she was around, let alone
talk.  Her family acted as though she were made of glass --

That last frightened her.  Her brothers seemed to think she was going
mad, and now that she was aware of it, she could see how gingerly her
parents were treating her, too.  They acted as if they thought she was
made of gelignite.  Only Miliko still treated her normally; the twelve-
year-old didn't really seem to understand what was going on.  She could
see that something was wrong, though, and it clearly worried her.

[Everyone's worried about me,] Miyo thought bitterly.  [How nice.]

If she could just decide what to do ...  She sighed.  They all had their
ideas of what she _ought_ to do.  [Relax and have fun.]  [Be a normal
sixteen-year-old.]  But none of them were in her shoes; none of them
could possibly understand --

Well, perhaps Artemis could.  He had the perspective.

What he lacked was the _involvement_.  He hadn't been there when she and
Rei had fought.  He hadn't heard what they'd said to each other; he
hadn't felt the betrayal and the rage.  He hadn't bled.  It didn't
matter how good his intention were; he didn't -- he couldn't -- know
what he was asking.

[Can't you see she wants to end this?] he'd said.  And Rei had virtually
admitted the same thing, earlier.  Miyo had been tempted, so tempted.
It would have been so easy to let it go, to finally let it end ...

But no.  Even today, even seven hundred years later, Rei hadn't changed.
[I still have the scars, if you don't,] she'd said.  Still the same old
Rei, as sarcastic, as aggressive as ever.  Under the blankets, Miyo's
hand crept up to touch her side.  There were no scars there, not any
more.  Did Rei think she was inferior, because she'd been reborn?

[Are you going to tell me that you just want to let it drop?]

For a moment there, she had wanted to.  The thought of seeing an old
friend, someone who could understand what she was going through, had
been seductive.  But then Rei had thrown it in her face.  _She_ clearly
wasn't prepared to forget, even if Miyo was.  That cynical question --
and then her casual accusation: [That's beside the point, isn't it?]  Oh
so clever.  Turning it around, casting the blame on _her_.

How could she make her peace with someone like that?  With someone who
only paid lip-service to wanting to end the breach?

[I'm scared that she _won't_ be sorry,] she'd told Dhiti.  That was only
part of it, though.  The truth was worse.  The real truth was, she was
afraid that if she tried to apologise, Rei might laugh at her.

And yet --

And yet, there had been that look in Rei's eye.

[I need to know if you _can_ let it drop,] she'd said.  [Seven hundred
years is a long, long time.  Alone.]  Miyo could almost believe that
she'd seen sincerity in Rei's eyes in that moment.  That she truly did
want to let it end.

If she dared -- if only Rei could be trusted --

"Oneesan?"

Miliko's sleepy voice, from the other side of the room.  "What?" Miyo
answered softly.

"Can you stop sighing all the time?  You're keeping me awake."

"Sorry," she said involuntarily.  She heard Miliko mumble something,
then turn over and resume her slow, steady breathing.

Quite suddenly, the absurdity of it struck her, and she found herself
laughing silently.  So much pain and heartache ... and all it amounted
to was that she was keeping her little sister awake.  How Rei would
laugh, if she only knew ...

She stopped laughing as the implications sank in.  [All it amounted
to ...]

Was that it?  Could that be it?  Could that be _all_?

"Sorry," she whispered again.  And realised that she was crying.

Wasted.  That _was_ it.  All those years of rage and hatred ... and it
was all in vain.  Wasted.  What good had any of it done?  What had it
accomplished?

Nothing.

No-one else had ever even known about it.  They had argued and fought
and bled, and still, seven hundred and thirty-seven years later, nobody
but them cared!  What was the _point_?

She remembered what Artemis had told her, a week before: [The only
person messing your life up ... is you.]  Then and now, it was true. 
The more she fought Rei, the worse she hurt herself; but after so long,
she was afraid to stop fighting ...

She clutched her pillow, soaking it with her tears.  If she dared ...
if only she dared --

Her last thought, before grey sleep finally claimed her, was of what
she'd said to Dhiti on Monday: [What if it's too late?]  And Dhiti had
answered, [What if it isn't?]

What if it wasn't?


                            ****************


They came for her early on Thursday morning.  Number Twelve was dozing
fitfully in her tiny, windowless cell.  She'd been locked there since
Sunday, naked, with no food and little water.  To lower the psychic
defences, she supposed.  This hadn't been necessary at her first
initiation.  She didn't like what that implied.

When the key clattered in the lock, she snapped open instantly.  Sitting
up made her head swim for a moment, but she was ready and waiting for
them when the door swung open.

She did not try to fight or run.  She knew how pointless it would be.
Any such attempt would fail instantly: her legs would freeze, or
suddenly go limp; the cloud would come down on her thoughts; and for a
time she would not be _herself_ at all, but only an extension of the
Master.

That was what they were going to do to her again this morning.  This
time, though, it would be permanent.

She stood obediently when they took her by the shoulders.  She stumbled
a little as they led her down the corridor; she was light-headed with
hunger.  They helped her patiently.

She stole glances at them from the corners of her eyes.  Numbers Two,
Five and Seven.  Always numbers.  She knew their names, naturally, but
within the Council they were always supposed to think of each other as
numbers.  Why was that?  It made it harder to work with people, it
depersonalised everyone ... maybe that _was_ the point.  The Master
didn't much care for personalities.

The floor under her bare feet was cold.  The air on her naked skin made
her shiver.

They took an elevator down to the basement.  It was colder down here.
The lights were spaced a little too far apart, so that the corridors
became a bewildering, semi-dark maze.  Twelve was shivering constantly.
She kept tripping over obstacles that weren't there.

Down another interminable passage, and into a cramped changing room that
was filled with racks of heavy clothing.  Two, Three and Five dressed
warmly, pulling on thick leather boots.  They did not offer Twelve the
chance to dress.

Finally they left the changing room and stepped into another room, small
and empty.  It was like stepping into a freezer.  There were actual
patches of ice on the walls.  Twelve wrapped her arms around herself,
shuddering and trying to keep her teeth from chattering.

At the rear of the room was a massive steel door, set in an otherwise
blank wall.  Its surface was coated with frost.  The door, in some
indefinable way, seemed to be the centre of the cold; it radiated a
deep, bone-numbing frigidity.

The chairman stepped forward as they entered.  He was dressed as warmly
as the others accompanying Twelve.  He nodded briefly when he saw her,
but his expression never changed.  As the group approached, he held one
gloved hand up toward the door.  It swung open ponderously, with a faint
tinkling of ice crystals.

Beyond it lay a dark, narrow tunnel, perfectly round.  Its walls had a
curiously smooth, polished appearance, as if it had been melted out of
the solid rock.  It led sharply downward.

Twelve was trembling constantly, but not from the cold.  Her legs did
not want to support her.  She felt like throwing up ... if only she
had anything _to_ throw up.

She closed her eyes and drew a deep, shuddering breath.  When she opened
them again she saw the chairman watching her quizzically.  She took
another breath and said, as calmly as she could, "Let's get on with it
... Fukuda-san."

His lips quirked in a half-smile.  "As you wish ... Araki-san."

Her momentary bravado vanished as soon as she stepped into the tunnel.
The stone was so cold that it burned; she felt her toes clenching,
uselessly, against the fierce pain.  She gasped and tried to step back.
But there were hands behind her, forcing her onward, and she had no
choice but to continue.  She gritted her teeth, clenched her fists, and
took another step.  And another.

She heard the chairman stepping into the tunnel behind her.  Then the
door boomed shut.  Instantly all light was gone.  She was alone with the
darkness and the cold ... and the man who had put her here.

The tunnel went down a long, long way.  She'd been here once before, of
course; but the last time, she'd been warmly dressed, and she hadn't
been starving.  This time, the journey seemed at least ten times as far.
She knew she would remember it in her nightmares.  If she ever had
any nightmares again.

In this icy blackness, she could easily believe that she would have
nothing but nightmares.  Forever.

It was completely dark, and she had to feel her way.  The air was dead,
tasteless.  The stone under her feet was smooth and slippery, and she
fell repeatedly.  Each time, she found it harder to rise; after four
days without food, she tired rapidly.  It was tempting to simply give
up, to lie down and not move again.  But that would not help, she knew.
If she tried it, the Master would take control, moving her limbs for
her; and whatever pain she was in now, that would be worse.

On, and on, and on, further than she would have believed possible. 
After a while the pain in her feet seemed to fade, leaving only a dead
numbness.  At last, the descent came to an end.  She saw a faint glow,
far ahead -- and then rounded a sharp bend at the bottom and stepped out
of the tunnel, into a cave far below the surface of Third Tokyo ... and
into the presence of the Master.

This was the very heart of the cold.  This place seemed to draw in all
energy, draining all heat, all life, leaving only a glacial emptiness.
The air was painful to breathe.  The cave was lit with a pale, dead,
frigid glow, pulsing slowly as if to a monstrous heartbeat.

When she looked down at herself, she saw that the skin of her hands and
feet were white with frostbite.

The chairman emerged from the tunnel behind her, took three steps
forward, and bowed.  Twelve followed suit a moment later.  She felt the
Master's contemptuous amusement rolling over her, like a wave of thick,
cloying mist.

A command formed in her mind.  Her eyes widened and she stepped back
involuntarily, her lips shaping a soundless denial.

The command was repeated.  There was no compulsion to it; it was only an
order.  But it would not be given a third time, she was warned silently.
If she did not obey now, she would be given no option.  And she would be
punished.

A quick vision of the chairman's gloved hands swam in her mind.

Her head was swimming, her hands shaking with dread.  The Master, the
Master was everywhere, everything, suffocating her.  She was weeping in
horror and despair, but the tears froze almost instantly on her cheeks.
She could not seem to breathe.  Behind her, she heard the chairman turn
and leave her to her fate.

She raised her hands and stepped forward, and the Master claimed her.

                                 --**--

Two, Five and Seven waited patiently outside the door.  Seven paced up
and down, clapping his hands to keep the circulation going and
occasionally complaining about the cold.  Two and Five stood silently,
never moving.

At last Seven stopped his pacing, blew out a breath in a cloud of mist,
and said, "It's been three hours!  How much longer is this going to
take?"

There was no answer for a moment.  Then Two sighed and said, "Stop
complaining.  You know how far down it is.  They may not even have
gotten to the bottom yet."

From his expression, Seven knew that perfectly well, but was not
inclined to admit it.  "What are we doing here, then?" he demanded.
"She can't escape, we all know that.  What good are we doing up here,
freezing our a-- our butts off?"

Two shrugged.  "We're here because we were ordered to be.  What else
do you need to know?"

"Oh, don't go getting sanctimonious with me.  All I want is to --"

He stopped suddenly as Five stirred.  "We're here as a reception
committee," she said quietly.

The two men stared at her.  "Reception committee?" said Two.  "For
what?"

"As a precaution."  She shrugged.  "It seems that it's possible the
Master might decide to try a very ... traditional approach to the
Senshi problem."

Seven glared at her.  "What the hell does that mean?"

She repeated the shrug.  "The chairman didn't say.  But the Master
hasn't been this awake in centuries, from what I hear.  The Senshi are
appearing again, after all this time.  Once the last one of them shows
her face --"

"When the last one shows her face," said a cold voice, "it will be time
to finish what began seven hundred years ago."

They looked around sharply.  Just in front of the steel door, there was
a sudden stirring in the air, a rippling.  A patch of space seemed to
twist, distort ... and then a human form shimmered into view.  A woman
stared down at them in haughty derision.

Number Twelve had changed.

She was floating a few centimetres off the floor, for one thing.  She
was clad in a deep blue bodysuit, with boots of a slightly darker shade
of blue.  There were silver bracers on her wrists, and a thin silver
belt was clasped around her waist.  The metal glittered unnaturally in
the light that came from her forehead.  Her forehead --

There was a crystal the size of a walnut, embedded in her forehead.  It
burned with an icy, pale light.

"Number Twelve?" whispered Two.

She rotated in mid-air, and stared down at him.  Her eyes were cold and
dead.  "'Number Twelve'?" she said.  "How prosaic.  It might be more
appropriate if you were to call me ... Argentite."

Two swallowed with difficulty.  "A--Argen--?" he said, stumbling.

She laughed contemptuously, a horrid, grating sound.  "Perhaps not.
'Number Twelve' will do well enough, after all."

She made an impatient gesture.  "When your chairman reaches the surface
again, tell him that matters are in hand."  With that, she blurred and
vanished.

The three stared at each other for a few moments.  At last, Seven gave
a shaky laugh and said, "'Traditional approach.'"

Two shivered in a way that had nothing to do with the cold.  "I don't
know if the Senshi are in trouble ... or if we are," he said.

Five bit her lip.  "I think," she said slowly, "both."


                            ****************


Miyo walked slowly toward the Olympus.  There were butterflies in her
stomach; she felt sick with anticipation.  She had been dreading this
moment, and at the same time, longing for it.  Would she be welcomed, or
rejected?

However this meeting went, she thought, when it was over, in a way, she
would be free.

Just getting this far had been difficult.  Everyone kept _watching_ her
all the time, and it had been hard to slip out, get away from her
family.  Who'd have thought a concerned family could be such a nuisance?
Artemis would have been a big help, but she hadn't seen him for a day or
so now.  Well, sooner or later he'd show up.  She hoped.

(She remembered when Artemis had asked her: [Do you trust me?]  And,
shame-faced, she'd answered, [No.]  Now the boot was on the other foot.
It was so funny, she could cry.)

She stood in the street, looking up.  The Olympus building towered over
her.  She eyed the letters cut into the stone over the main entrance,
and wondered vaguely why Rei had picked that name.  Or had someone else
built it ...?

She was waffling, she finally realised.  Trying to delay the moment.
Clenching her fists, she turned sharply and stalked down into the
car park.

On the second level down, she stopped outside a plain, unmarked door in
the rear wall.  There was a combination, she remembered, looking at the
keypad beside the door.  Artemis had given it to her when she'd been
here before, but she couldn't remember --

[Wait.]  She closed her eyes for a moment, and let her thoughts grow
still.  Her hand rested lightly on the keypad, unmoving.

(As she lies on her bed, the white cat stares at her and says,
[Miyo-san, just lie back, and relax.  Relax ... and remember.])  (And
they pause outside the door in the car park, and the cat recites numbers
and she punches them in, wondering what she's doing here.)  (And she's
standing outside her house in the early morning, and he says, [How well
do you remember?])  (And, [Really?  You remember _everything_?])  (And
she stares into his eyes, and they seem to grow, swallowing up the
world.) (And [Relax ... and remember]) (and he recites numbers) (and
relax ...)

(numbers)

Her hand moved quickly, pressing the keys.

The door clicked, and she pulled it open.  Inside, in the stairwell, she
rubbed her head, which was beginning to ache.  That had been ... harder
than she'd expected.  Artemis had opened a door in her mind that day,
and it had never fully closed again; but trying to control it
consciously was obviously going to take practice.

Shaking her head to clear it, she started up the stairs.  Three steps
up, the reason she was here suddenly came back to her and she stopped
dead.  She didn't want to do this; she wanted to turn, run ...

She shook her head again, sharply.  No.  No more running.  No more
stalling.  Time to put an end to it.

Time to face the music.

                                 --**--

"Captain?" said Mitsukai.  "There's something happening inside.  I think
... it might be a burglar."

"Oh?" said Hiiro, raising his eyebrows.  "This could be interesting."

                                 --**--

Itsuko yawned and stretched, and finished towelling her hair dry.  Her
last class of the day had been a bitch.  She'd slept poorly the night
before, and today her timing was slightly off and that had thrown the
whole class off too.  It had been a chaotic mess.  Some of them seemed
to enjoy the confusion -- the younger ones, anyway -- but even so, it
was a bad precedent to set.

It wasn't as though she _had_ to teach classes.  The Olympus was turning
a reasonably healthy profit, and she could have sat back and relaxed if
she'd wanted, letting the instructors she hired take care of it all.
And, she thought sourly, gone as crazy as a loon within two months, with
nothing to do.

Running a gymnasium wasn't a bad life.  It was quite satisfying, mostly.
But it sure wasn't what she'd had in mind for her life, way back when.

The thought of 'way back when' brought Makoto -- no, Miyo -- back to her
mind, killing her momentary good humour.  Miyo, and the reason Itsuko
had slept poorly last night.  The last several nights, actually.

Artemis had been back twice since he'd brought Miyo to see her.  He'd
apologised both times, but Itsuko hadn't had the heart to blame him
anyway.  From what he'd told her, Miyo had been in a pretty bad way that
night.  It didn't sound like she was doing any better now, either.  If
only she'd stayed and listened, just a few seconds longer ... if only
the commset hadn't gone off ...

Miyo had good reason to be upset, Itsuko thought morosely.  [I wanted to
apologise to her -- and a fine mess I made of it!]  There had, after
all, been some truth in the accusation Miyo threw at her.  Old habits
died hard.

[What a pair of screw-ups we are!  I've gotten too cynical ... and she
can't trust anyone any more ...]

She finished dressing and walked slowly out of the changing room.  It
was after seven in the evening.  She thought about heading back upstairs
to eat in her rooms, but the idea of another evening up there alone was
unbearable.  She didn't want to eat in a restaurant, surrounded by
strangers.  That left --

Well, that didn't leave too many alternatives at all, really.

She had been alone for most of the last seven hundred years.  Always
moving around, taking identity after identity.  Never daring to settle
down for long, for fear that people would notice that she didn't age.
Never daring let anyone get too close, for fear that they'd discover the
other great secret she carried ...

The only one she'd been able to confide in, in all those years, was
Artemis; and even that was difficult.  They didn't really see
eye-to-eye, and until recently he seldom visited.

There'd been times when she'd thought about ending it all.  Not many,
but a few.  But there was always the chance that, somehow, the Senshi
would be reborn yet again.  She held on for that.  And even when, as the
centuries rolled past, she finally gave up hope, there was still duty.
The evil was still out there, somewhere.  If it stirred again, someone
had to be there to fight it.

Now, of course, it was stirring again with a vengeance, and the Senshi
had been reborn after all.  So why did she feel worse than ever before?

She groaned, walked to the stairs, and started up them slowly.  There
was still one, faint chance of reconciliation.  Something she hadn't
dared to try yet, because if it didn't work, the last hope for the two
of them was gone.  She could still give Miyo a comm call and plead with
her, beg her to listen.  She dreaded the idea, but if that was what it
took -- if that was the only way left to get through --

As she opened her apartment door, she stopped suddenly.

The lights were on.  There was music playing.  And the air was thick
with a wonderful odour.  Cooking smells ...?

As she watched, dumbfounded, Miyo poked her head out of the kitchen and
said, "Hi!  I thought you'd never get back.  Come on in, the dinner's
nearly ready."

Surprising them both, Itsuko burst into tears.

                                 --**--

"Hmm," said Hiiro, amused.  "Well, I don't think that sounds like a
burglar."  He removed his earplug.  "All right, false alarm.  Stand
down, Mitsukai."

"Yes, sir."


                            ****************


"Bendis!" exclaimed Beth.  "You're back!  Where've you _been_?  I
haven't seen you since Monday!"

Bendis jumped in through the window.  Her fur was dirty and bedraggled,
and she looked tired.  "Looking for that girl," she said.  "I told you."

"What girl?"  Then Beth remembered.  "Oh!  You mean ..."  Her eyes
widened.  "Did you find her?  Is she a Senshi?"

"Yes," said Bendis wearily, "I found her ... eventually.  At least this
time I knew which face I was looking for."

"What?"

"Never mind.  I don't know if she's a Senshi yet, but I found out where
she lives.  I'll be able to check her tomorrow."  Beth opened her mouth
to ask another question, but Bendis wasn't finished.  "In the meantime,
there's something more important to take care of," she said.  "Do you
have anything to eat ...?"


                            ****************


Miyo and Rei ate slowly, sneaking quick looks at each other.  After the
initial catharsis, neither of them seemed to be able to think of
anything to say.  But it didn't matter, for now.  The tension, the
urgency, was gone.

Once, Rei excused herself, a stricken look on her face, and hurried out.
Miyo stared after her, concerned that something was wrong; but Rei came
back a minute or two later, a small control pad in her hand.  She
manipulated it for a few seconds, holding a finger to her lips, then
laid it down on the table with a sigh of relief.

"What is it?" Miyo asked dubiously.

"It's a -- well, a safety policy."  Rei shook her head.  "Don't worry.
I'll tell you later."  She resumed eating, looking unconcerned.  After a
few moments, Miyo followed suit.

Afterward, they carried mugs of coffee through into the living room.
They sat, and exchanged nervous smiles.  And then, finally, it was time
to talk.

"On Saturday I asked you, how've you been?" said Rei quietly.

Miyo took a deep breath.  "I've been --"  She stopped, staring down at
the floor.  "Well, to tell the truth, I've been pretty shitty, for the
last week," she said.

Rei laughed mirthlessly.  "Same here," she said.

"I --"  Miyo struggled to find the words she wanted.  "Why?" she asked
at last.  "After all that time, why did you have to bring it up again?"

Rei did not answer at once.  "Because I was afraid," she said slowly.
She looked Miyo in the eyes.  "Seven hundred years," she said.  "Seven
hundred and -- what? twenty-two years.  It's a long time to carry a
grudge."  She looked away again, and took a careful sip of her coffee.
"After a hundred years or so, I would have given anything to have seen
an old friend again.  Eventually, I realised that I'd have given
anything to see you, too.  I think that's when I found out that ... none
of it mattered to me any more.

"And then you came back.  And I was so afraid ..."

Miyo stared at her uncertainly.  This was a side of Rei that she'd
seldom seen: a Rei totally open; the Rei under the shell, as it were.
Not wanting to break the mood, she said quietly, "Afraid?  You?"

"Me."  Rei gave her a crooked smile.  "When Artemis told me he'd
awakened your memories ... all I could think was, She's going to
remember it all, we're going to start fighting again, and I just want my
friend back ..."

She took a deep breath.  "And then Artemis brought you up here, and took
me by surprise.  And I needed to know if you could ... let it go, but it
all came out wrong and ... and oh damn, I didn't want to start crying
again --"

Miyo hesitated for one moment longer.  Then she got up and went to sit
by Rei, and took her in her arms.  They clung to each other for some
time, until Rei finally stopped shuddering.

[All this time,] Miyo thought bitterly, as she held her friend.  [All
this time, and I never thought that she might be hurting as much as I
was.]  Her own cheeks were wet with tears.

At last she said quietly, "Can we ... forget it all, do you think?  Let
it go, pretend it never happened?"

"I don't think so," Rei answered.  "I'd like to, but ... I don't think
that's possible."  Miyo sighed, but before she could speak Rei went on,
"Maybe the best we can do is ... is to say, we both made mistakes.  But
that doesn't mean it all has to end.  Maybe we can ... go on anyway."

"I'd like that," Miyo replied gently.

Rei pulled away from her.  "In that case," she said ... and there was a
definite glint in her eye ... "supposing I give you a hand with the
dishes?"

Miyo almost agreed without thinking.  But -- "Excuse me?" she said, a
challenge in her voice.  "_Who's_ going to help _who_ with the dishes?"

"Didn't you tell me, a couple of thousand years ago, that the cook
always does the dishes?" asked Rei innocently.

"No!"

"Oh?  I could have sworn that --"

"Rei!"

They stared at each other.  The moment was deceptive; it was so much
like old times, so familiar and comfortable, that it would have been easy
to let it slide, to fall into the well-remembered patterns.  And yet,
here and now, just as they were edging back over the brink --

And then, finally, Rei laughed.  "All right.  You help _me_, then.  Come
on, let's get this over with ..."

And Miyo let herself relax, and followed her into the kitchen.  Maybe,
just maybe, this could work after all.

                                 --**--

And later, they sat back with fresh refills of coffee, and talked about
everything under the sun.  About what it was like, running a gymnasium
of all things.  (Rei laughed).  About being back at school again, after
all this time.  About shoes, and ships, and sealing-wax, and cabbages
and Kings ...

"After the Fall?" said Rei at one point.  She made a face.  "That was a
bad time.  You're lucky to have missed it."

"No, really," Miyo prompted.

"Oh."  Rei shifted uncomfortably in her seat.  "It was, well ... you
must have gotten an idea in history classes.  The whole world was
falling to pieces.  Everybody was starving, nobody knew how to do
anything any more, and I wasn't much better off.  I was hurt, and ..." 
She shivered.  "I headed for the evacuation camps, but I never managed
to find them.  Later on I heard they'd been overrun just after the Fall
anyway.  There were a lot of hungry people around ...

"Eventually I found a farm where they took me in, looked after me until
I was on my feet again.  They were having a hard time running it, but I
did remember a few things -- enough to keep them all alive for a while. 
They never asked if I was ... you know, me ... but I think they knew. 

"Then, after a couple of years, they were attacked by raiders, and tried
to defend themselves, and all of them got killed, and I had to run." 
Shaking her head, she said, "It was like that for a long time.  Decades.
Eventually things settled down a little, but it was just, you know ...
look, I'd really rather not talk about it.  Not tonight."

"Why didn't you use your powers to help them?" asked Miyo softly.

"My powers?"  Rei stared at her for a long time.  At last she said,
"Come with me.  I'll show you."

She led Miyo through into her office, and carefully pulled the curtains
shut.  Then she opened her desk drawer and took out a small object.
Tossing it to Miyo, she said, with an odd smile, "Recognise it?"

"It's your henshin wand," said Miyo, puzzled.

"Normally I keep it ... well, hidden away in a safe place.  But I saw
myself holding it in a dream, last week, so I got it out again.  Toss it
back here."

Miyo obeyed, and Rei stared down at it for a few seconds.  Then, taking
a deep breath, she held it up in a familiar gesture and shouted, "MARS
CRYSTAL POWER, MAKE-UP!"

Nothing happened.

"Rei --" began Miyo, shocked.

Rei's face was pale, and her hand was trembling.  "It's been three
hundred years since I dared to try that," she said in a voice that was
little more than a whisper.  "I didn't think it would ..."  She trailed
off.  "No.  Never mind that.  But I'm not Sailor Mars any more, Makoto
... Miyo.  I'm sorry."

"Rei-chan, what happened?"

"Not Rei," the other whispered.  Then, louder: "Not that either."  She
looked up at Miyo sharply.  A little colour was coming back into her
face, though she still looked pale and shaken.  "Do you understand?  I'm
not ... what I was.  I'm not Sailor Mars.  And I'm not Hino Rei, either.
My name is Itsuko now.  Pappadopoulos Itsuko."

Patiently Miyo repeated, "What happened?"

Itsuko shook her head wearily.  She looked old, in that moment; old and
tired.  "I don't know; I never ...  When I woke up, after it was all
over, I found I was back in my --" she made a face "-- civilian form.
And I just couldn't change any more.  I found my henshin wand nearby,
but I couldn't use it.  None of my earlier transformations worked.  I
even tried changing without the wand -- you remember what a bitch that
is -- and I couldn't do that either.  It just didn't ..."  She shrugged.
"When Serenity died, maybe my power died with her.  I don't know."

"I'm so sorry," Miyo said softly.  "I never dreamed ..."  Hesitantly she
added, "Does it ... hurt?"

"Hurt?" Itsuko repeated.  "To be cut off from the power?  To be a ... a
pitiful _shadow_ of what I was?"  Her voice was rising.  "To know that
there are people that need my help, and I can't give it any more?  To
know that now, especially, you need Sailor Mars back, and I can't do
it?"  She almost spat the words out.  "_Hell_ yes, it hurts!"

Miyo recoiled from the rage and the pain in her voice.  Itsuko spun on
her heel and stalked over to her desk, where she slammed her henshin
wand back into the drawer.  After a moment, in a tight, controlled
voice, she said, "I'm sorry.  This isn't turning out to be much of a
reunion after all."

"Any reunion is better than what we had before," Miyo said firmly.  "Rei
... no, wait.  Itsuko.  Are you sure it's permanent?  If there's
anything I can do -- or Artemis may have some idea --"

"I talked to Artemis about it, five hundred years ago," Itsuko said with
a sigh.  "He thinks I just ... burnt myself out, in that last battle.
It's happened before, apparently, in the Silver Millennium."

Miyo raised her eyebrows.  "Oh, yes.  I'd forgotten about that.  Sailor
Neptune, the third one back before Michiru.  She --"  She closed her
mouth suddenly, remembering that that Sailor Neptune had committed
suicide.  Not the most tactful thing to say, not now.

Especially considering what had happened to Michiru herself.

Itsuko didn't seem to notice, fortunately.  She simply looked glad of
the change in subject.  "That's right.  You remember all about the
Silver Millennium, don't you?  Artemis said."  She managed a faint grin.
"So, what was it like?  What am I missing?"

"Save your envy," Miyo advised her dryly.  "It's just confusing.  It was
all so ... different, then.  Beautiful, wonderful, yes, but not like
Crystal Tokyo.  It's hard to relate that life to now.  It just gets in
the way ..."  She blinked.  "In some ways, it's actually better now.
Did you know that this is the first life when I've actually had a
family?  Both times before, I lost my parents.  The first time around, I
was only seven."

Itsuko made a face.  "Seven?  What an age to lose your folks."

"Well ... yeah.  But I didn't mean it like that.  It's just, I think I'm
actually better off, this life, than I've ever been.  For a while there,
after my memories came back, I didn't see that.  But now I've had a
chance to ... you know, let things settle down ... I really think I'm
better off."  She rolled her eyes suddenly.  "Even if I _do_ have to go
back to school, and be a kid again.  I can handle that.  And ... well,
even if my family _do_ think I've gone nuts."

Itsuko raised her eyebrows, and Miyo flushed.  "Um ... well, you know.
With three sets of memories, it's kind of hard sometimes to -- are you
laughing at me?"

"Perish the thought," said Itsuko hastily, her face suspiciously stiff.
"Let me guess.  You've been acting strangely, and saying all sorts of
incomprehensible things in front of them --"

"You don't have to put it like that --"

"-- and it probably doesn't help that you disappear at odd hours, to go
and fight as Sailor Jupiter, right?"

"No, I've been okay there, actually --"  Miyo sighed.  "You're right,
though.  That's going to be a problem, sooner or later.  And then, this
last week, things have been kind of rough, and my brothers caught me
talking to Artemis, and I was kind of upset, and ..."

Itsuko nodded slowly.  "If there's anything I can do ...?" she offered.

Miyo smiled.  "Actually, I think I'm going to be all right on that
count ... now," she said.  After a moment, Itsuko smiled back.

                                 --**--

And later yet:

"Why did you pick Papa -- Padapo -- Pappado -- whatever it is?" asked
Miyo, with some difficulty.

"Pappadopoulos," Itsuko said easily, with a grin.  "'Cause it's such fun
to hear you trying to say it, why else?"

"No, seriously."

"Really?  Oh, well ... I can hardly go using my real name, of course.
Have you _seen_ that awful viddy program?  Just imagine what it'd be
like if everyone knew who I was.  I'd never have another moment's
privacy, I'd be buried alive in ..."  Itsuko blinked.  "Mind you, it
might be really good for business --"

"Rei --"

"No, no.  Itsuko, remember?  Dangerous to get that wrong.  Well ... I've
had a lot of identities, over the years.  Usually I try to pick
something a little oddball.  If people think I'm weird to start with, it
covers up a lot of mistakes I could make.  Being half-Greek is handy,
since none of the Hellenic enclaves survived.  And I learned a bit of
the language, a long time back.  It's like a false nose."

Miyo was not quite sure she'd heard correctly.  "A false nose?" she said
cautiously.

"Yeah.  You know -- if you want to disguise your face, you wear a big
false nose.  Or something like that.  Everybody's too busy looking at
your nose to see the rest of your face at all."  Itsuko blinked at her.
"Right?"

"So ... everyone's too busy thinking you're weird because you're Greek,
to notice that you're weird in other ways too?"  Itsuko nodded.  "That
has got to be the silliest idea --"

"But it works!  Really!  Maybe I'll try being German next time; I think
I could fake that --"  Itsuko broke off, shaking her head.  "What can I
say?  It's a pain in the ass.  Every twenty years or so, I pretend to
die, then go off and start again as someone else.  It's getting
difficult, creating a new identity, but I have some contacts -- people
I've done favours for, over the years.  It's ..."  She shrugged.  "It's
how I live."

"How long have you been here, then?" asked Miyo, suddenly concerned.

"I'm about due for a change, actually.  The last few lifetimes, I've
been trying to hold onto this building, which makes it harder, but ... I
figure I'll go on holiday and have an accident.  Something like that. 
My niece, who lives overseas, will inherit.  In a few years, enough to
blur people's memories of me, she'll come back and move in.  She'll look
a little different from me -- maybe I'll let my hair grow again -- and
she'll talk differently.  I'll have to shut down the gymnasium first, of
course -- that's a shame, but there's too much chance people might
recognise me.  And then ..."

She sighed.  "Who am I kidding?  That's what I'd been planning to do.
But I can't move on, not now.  Not with this new Senshi crisis coming
on.  I may not be Sailor Mars any more, but I think I can help a little.
I hope.  And anyway, it's ..."  She hesitated.  "It's dangerous to
attract attention, at the moment."

Miyo sat up a little straighter, her eyes narrowing.  "Dangerous?  What
do you mean?"  Something made her add, "Is this anything to do with that
'safety policy' gadget you had before?"

"In a way.  Yes."  Itsuko stood up and walked over to the curtained
windows.  "About two weeks ago, Artemis was here.  We think somebody saw
him ... and recognised him."  She turned, and saw the expression on
Miyo's face.  "Yes.  This place is under surveillance.  I don't know who
it is.  You probably saw on the news, there were some odd anti-Senshi
feelings out there for a while?  Well, the majority opinion seems to be
pretty positive at the moment, especially since that fire, but I'd be
surprised if all that distrust has just vanished.  There are a lot of
whackos in the world.  I sent Artemis away, and he's been very careful
when he comes back --"

"So that's why he made me come in by the car-park entrance."

"Yes."

"But -- I mean, have you thought that they might have ..."  Miyo trailed
off, fumbling for words.

"Bugged me?"  Itsuko smiled at Miyo's dismay.  "Oh, yes.  The suite is
bugged, all right.  The rest of the building probably is, too.  That's
what my 'safety policy' is for.  It sends a false signal -- blocks the
bugs, substitutes an innocuous conversation for whatever is actually
happening.  Don't worry, it's safe to talk."

"Safe?" demanded Miyo.  "How can you call it 'safe'?  How can you just
stay here, knowing somebody's watching you --"

"Calm down.  In the first place, they're _not_ watching me ... I hope.
They're watching for Artemis, and if he stays away, sooner or later
they'll quit watching.  Or ease off enough for me to get out, anyway.
That's the second point: the worst thing I can do is to panic.  That
really _would_ attract attention, and attention is the last thing I can
afford."

"Damn."  Miyo shook her head.  "I wouldn't like to be in your shoes."

Itsuko snorted.  "Well, I'm not exactly happy about it, either.  And I
do have one or two ideas about dealing with it, but there's nothing I
can do right now.  The important thing is that as long as I stay calm
and act normally, I'm probably safe."

Miyo wrapped her arms around herself, shivering unconsciously.  "I'd
been thinking ... well, hoping ... that maybe we could meet here.  You
know, me and ... the others.  You could sit in, too, of course.  But
now, well ..."  She smiled feebly.  "I guess not, huh?"

Itsuko raised her eyebrows.  "Actually, that could still work, you
know."  Miyo started to protest, but she went on, "Think about it.  The
Olympus is a natural meeting place for teenagers.  A couple of the
smaller rooms at the back get used in the evening by local clubs right
now.  Nobody'd look twice at a new group that started coming in."

"You think so?"  Miyo started to look hopeful.

"Sure.  I mean, you wouldn't be able to have training sessions here;
that'd be asking for trouble.  But if you want somewhere where you can
get together and talk things over, that's no problem."  Cocking her head
to one side she added, "You'll need some kind of cover, though.  Right
now people could be a little _too_ interested in a group of girls who're
total strangers but suddenly start meeting together."  Then she grinned.
"I do have a few schemes in mind --"

"You sound just like Minako," said Miyo, a little nervously.

"Mako-chan!  That's a horrible thing to say!"  They both laughed.  "All
the same," Itsuko went on, "what do you think?"

"Well --"  Miyo shrugged.  "I'll check with Artemis, see what he says."
She shot a look at Itsuko.  "Um, does this mean I can tell Dhiti-chan
who you are?"

Itsuko hesitated, her eyebrows raised.  "Let me think about that, okay?"
she said at last.

Miyo did not try to hide her disappointment.  "Okay," she said
reluctantly.  She added, "There's probably not much point just yet,
anyway.  Not with only two Senshi."

"Two?" asked Itsuko, frowning.  "Don't you mean three?"

"Eh?  No, I -- oh.  You mean Sailor Venus.  But we still don't know who
she is."

Itsuko laughed.  "Tell Artemis to get a move on, then.  The sooner he
tracks Bendis down, the better."

"What?  Tracks her down?"

"Hasn't he told you yet?  Typical.  He and Bendis ... well, no.  I
wouldn't want to spoil his story."  She laughed again.

"Oh, come on, you can't just drop hints like that!  Please!"  Miyo
folded her arms sulkily.  "You're just like him, you know -- always
picking on me ..."  But at that point, she could no longer keep the
glare up, and had to start laughing herself.  "Oh, it's so good to be
able to talk to you again," she said with a sigh.

Itsuko raised her eyebrows.  "Likewise," she said.  "Though it does have
its downside, too.  For example ... have you noticed what time it is?"

Miyo glanced at her watch and yelped.

"And it's a school day tomorrow, too," said Itsuko mock-sympathetically.

"AUGH!  MY PARENTS ARE GOING TO KILL ME!"  Miyo suddenly became a
whirlwind of activity, frantically gathering up everything she'd brought
with her, and trying to find where she'd hung her jacket when she came
in.  Itsuko sat back and watched her, enjoying the impromptu Usagi
imitation.  After an amazingly brief time, Miyo sprinted out the door,
with a hastily muttered "Bye!"

A silence fell in the suite.  Shaking her head in amusement, Itsuko
started to clear up the coffee mugs and plates of snacks they'd gone
through during the evening.  There was a sudden knock on the door and
she looked up, startled.

Miyo poked her head back through the door.  "Um ..." she said
hesitantly.  "You mind if ... well, I mean, could I ... well, would you
mind if I came back, you know, tomorrow or something?"

Itsuko smiled.  "Kino Makoto, you are welcome here any time.  Day or
night.  You should know that."

Miyo's face split into a broad grin.  "Yeah ... yeah!  Thanks!"

The door slammed and she was gone.


                            ****************


Bendis prowled through the streets, following a tall, slim girl.  It was
early Friday evening, and her prey was out of school uniform.  Her
clothes looked expensive, though she seemed to have a taste for dark,
gloomy colours.

She was definitely a Senshi.  Bendis had finally managed to touch her
for long enough to be sure.

The question, as it had been with Beth, was which Senshi she was.
Bendis was pondering ways and means of finding out.  She had,
regretfully, abandoned her idea of using the same tactics she'd tried
before.  Beth's cautions about pianos notwithstanding, she was sure that
the idea was basically sound; but she had an uneasy feeling that the
girl might not see it the same way.

There had to be a better way of doing this, she thought irritably.  Why
couldn't she have waited a few months before getting into that argument
with Artemis?  There was so _much_ he'd never taught her ...

The girl turned a corner, and Bendis hurried a little to keep her in
sight.  She was keeping her distance, trying not to be noticed, but it
did make it harder to keep an eye on the girl.  Where on earth was she
going, anyway?  The streets were getting crowded, it was becoming
awkward to dodge feet.

[Suzue,] she thought.  Have to remember that.  [Itagaki Suzue.]  At
least she finally knew her name.

The girl slowed a little, and Bendis finally saw where she was heading.
A movie theatre, covered with big, gaudy posters.  She stifled a groan.
[This is going to be awkward,] she thought, as Suzue stepped inside.

                                 --**--

"I don't know about this," said Dhiti, looking up at the posters
dubiously.  "It doesn't look that good."

"Oh, come on," said Kin impatiently.  "The first two in the series were
terrific!  Anyway, just a couple of weeks ago you were talking about how
_much_ you wanted to see it!"

"Yeah, what's up, Dhiti-chan?" said Miyo, grinning at her.  "I'd have
thought you'd enjoy a movie with so much ice in it."

"Stick it up your nose, Hayashi," Dhiti grouched.  She studied the
posters for 'Icewalker III' again, and tried to hide her misgivings.  It
wasn't that the animation didn't look good.  It was just that ...

"At least you look a bit more cheerful today," she said, not wanting to
complete the thought.

Miyo smiled.  "I got some good advice from a friend, and I took it," she
said, throwing a quick glance down at Dhiti.

"Oh, it was nothing," said Kin modestly, polishing her nails on her
blouse.  "Any friend would have done the same."

"_You_?" said Miyo, startled.  "What are you talking about?  You told me
to pull the sock out of my ass!"

"Hey, that was good advice!  The way you were acting --"

"Good advice?  That's the sort of advice I'd expect from my worst en--"
Miyo stopped suddenly, and looked thoughtful.  "Actually," she said
slowly, "come to think of it, maybe that _was_ good advice."

"You see?  No-one ever listens to me till it's too late," said Kin
mournfully.  Then she stole a sly glance at Miyo.  "Mind you, in your
case it was probably more like a _pair_ of socks ..."

Miyo giggled.  "More like a _dozen_ pairs," she snickered.

Dhiti winced, and put her hands over her ears.  "I don't want to hear
this," she said loudly.  "I am _not_ listening to this ..."

"Hmm."  Kin looked up at her sidelong.  "And I wonder just what _you've_
got stuck up there today?"

"Look, let's just get the tickets, all right?" said Dhiti hastily.  She
hurried toward the ticket stand, and the other two followed her, still
giggling.

As she stood in line, Dhiti wondered what was the matter with her today.
Normally she'd have been the one making the off-colour suggestions, and
Miyo would have been pretending to be outraged.  But then, Miyo had been
acting bubbly all day; it was clear that, whatever had been bothering
her (and she still wouldn't say what that was), it had finally been
resolved.  So, if one of her best friends was happy again, why was Dhiti
feeling out of sorts?

She scowled, feeling like a fraud.  The truth was, she knew perfectly
well what was wrong with her today.  She'd been feeling depressed ever
since Kin arrived.  Kin, and her news that Liam had asked her out on a
date.

It wasn't fair.  Dhiti had said that once before, but suddenly it was
starting to seem real.  Kin and Liam were clearly interested in each
other, and she was fairly sure that Mark and Miyo liked each other too,
even if they were both a little too weird to have admitted it yet (and
the idea of Mark dating someone who was, in a sense, thousands of years
old was pretty weird in itself) ... and that left poor old Dhiti all on
her own, and wasn't _that_ a sucky feeling.

And then those damn posters had to show Icewalker with his arms around
Tsurara, the woman of the Ice Folk, in a classic pose.  Just to rub it
in, as it were.

It wouldn't be so bad, she thought glumly as the three trooped into the
theatre, if she at least had any prospects.  But she'd never really met
a boy she'd been interested in.  There'd been a few sniffing around her,
from time to time, but none of them could keep up with her.  She was, it
seemed, as slippery as ice.

"Come on, Dhiti-chan," said Miyo as they squeezed past a boy and girl
holding hands to get to their seats.  "It can't be that bad."

"Can't it?" said Dhiti, looking down at the couple.  "If you say so."

Rather to her surprise, the girl she was stepping past looked up at her
and said, "Excuse me, but did she say your name is Dhiti?"

                                 --**--

[] Energy trace detected
[] Analysis:  Silver Millennium [prob 91.175%]
[] Hypothesis:  ?? Mercury Computer [prob 46.483%]
[] Trace obscured.  Query ?? subspace pocket [prob 69.026%]
[] Tracking

Smile.

                                 --**--

"Excuse me," Nanako said to the dark-skinned girl who was treading on
her toes, "but did she say your name is Dhiti?"

The girl looked down at her, clearly taken aback.  "Yes," she said after
a moment.  "Why?"

"Oh, nothing," said Nanako easily.  "Sorry.  I thought I recognised you
for a moment."

The girl, Dhiti, stared down at her for a second longer, as if she were
crazy, then shrugged and moved on down the row.

"What was that all about?" asked Eitoku.

Nanako hesitated.  "Oh ... just someone I didn't expect to be meeting
here," she said finally.  She squeezed his hand, and felt him squeeze
back.  "Hush, now.  The movie's starting."

                                 --**--

Bendis crouched under an unoccupied seat, and tried to keep one eye on
Suzue and one eye on Icewalker.  It wasn't easy; she kept getting
distracted by the action onscreen.  She wondered if she should try to
call Beth somehow, then remembered that Beth was out with her mother
tonight.

Well, it probably didn't matter.  She'd just sit here and enjoy the
movie, and worry about Suzue afterward.

                                 --**--

It was a pretty good movie, Suzue thought.  She watched as Icewalker and
his little band of allies from the Ice Folk mounted their assault on the
Frost Fortress.  Unbeknownst to them, Icewalker's true love Tsurara had
broken into the fortress by night, disguised as a man, to confront the
evil wizard, Shimo, who'd killed her parents.  But Shimo had taken
her younger brother Hyoga hostage, and she was forced to throw down her
weapons or see him die.  At the critical moment, Icewalker burst into
the throne-hall, and while Tsurara rescued her brother, he engaged Shimo
in furious battle.  They launched massive attacks at each other:
Icewalker hurling his trademark fiery bolts at Shimo, who responded with
whirling clouds of energy-sapping ice crystals, and frigid bombshells
that burst into hails of razor-sharp ice shrapnel.  In no time at all,
the Fortress was crumbling into ruin from the force of their battle,
shattered by massive explosions --

A _real_ massive explosion went off, right inside the theatre.

For a few confused seconds Suzue could not see, blinded by smoke and
dust.  Then she managed to make out the screen again.  There was an
enormous hole in it.  Standing in the hole was a --

A monster?

Some kind of ... of creature.  Vaguely manlike, but immensely tall and
thick, its body all angles and planes.  Light from the movie projector
reflected off its skin, making it glitter with a madly-dancing rainbow
of colours.  Or was that skin?  It gleamed; it looked as though it were
made of ice.

[How appropriate,] she thought vaguely.

Then the creature moved: swiftly and surely, with none of the
awkwardness she would have expected.  It leaped forward toward the
movie-goers.  Most of them just sat and watched, stunned.  This couldn't
be a publicity stunt, could it?

It raised an arm, and brought it down on the first row of seats.
Fortunately, nobody was sitting there.  A fraction of a second later,
the seats weren't there either.  There was an indescribable shattering
sound, and the air was filled with splinters and flying pieces of
wreckage.  Suzue heard somebody scream in pain.

The monster threw its head back and let out a roar: a deep, resonant
bellow, thoroughly chilling.  Finally, panic began to set in.  People
began to stand up, shout.  Then, in one frenzied rush, the whole
audience seemed to make a single, mass dash for the doors.  There were
more screams as people were crushed or trampled underfoot.

Suzue sat tight.  Partly it was because she was waiting for the crowd
around the doors to clear.  Partly it was because her legs didn't seem
to want to support her.  She felt ... strange.  Faint.  She hunched
herself back, trying to avoid the monster's attention.

She wondered why she did not feel afraid.  The fear was there, yes, but
it was as it it were sealed away.  She was trembling, but not because
she was afraid.  She felt an urge to ... to _do_ something, but she had
no idea what.

The creature smashed more seats, then stood still for a moment, moving
its head back and forth.  As if looking for something, she thought.
Something, or someone?  Then, to her horror, it stooped down, picked up
an armful of wreckage, and threw it with terrific force.

The crowd was thinning, but there were still a lot of people clustered
around the doors, trying frantically to get out.  The wreckage smashed
into them.  Suzue was fairly sure that she saw blood splash.  She heard
screams of agony, and several people fell.  Apparently encouraged, the
monster roared again.

As it made its way further down into the theatre, still blasting out its
challenge, she poked her head around the corner of a seat to get a
better look.

That was a mistake.

The movement must have caught its attention.  It swung in her direction.
She squirmed backward, horrified, but it had clearly seen her.  She
almost thought she saw a gleam in its eyes -- but that, surely, was
hyperbole.  Surely?

It stepped toward her, and raised one enormous fist.  She scrambled back
again, retreating seat by seat down the row, never daring take her eyes
off the thing.  Step by step, seat by seat, it followed her.  Then she
felt the wall at her back.

Nowhere to turn, nowhere to run.  No way out.  She was going to die.

She felt a sudden burning sensation on her forehead.

And at that moment, a voice rang out across the theatre.

                                 --**--

"I am Sailor Jupiter!  Movie theatres should be places of innocent
entertainment, not bloodthirsty butchery!"

"I am Sailor Mercury!  Er, what she said!  We are the Sailor Senshi, and
on behalf of the planet Mercury --"

"-- And the planet Jupiter --"

"We'll punish you!" they chorused.

Mercury stole a glance at Jupiter out of the corner of her eye.  "I am
_so_ embarrassed," she muttered.

"Can it," murmured back Jupiter.  She raised her arms and shouted,
"SUPREME THUNDER!"  And with a roar of energy, the bolt lashed out and
caught the vitrimorph squarely in the chest.  It bellowed in what
might have been pain, and reeled back.

"It's glowing again," said Mercury.  "Why do they _do_ that?"

"Maybe you should scan it and check?"

"Umm, not right now," gasped Mercury, leaping frantically to avoid an
armful of rubble hurled at her at what looked like supersonic speed.
She took aim and shouted, "ICE SPEAR!"

The vitrimorph dodged her shot with uncanny quickness.  Then, to her
shock, it took aim at her and let out a roar that almost sounded like it
had words in it.  And a bolt of pale-yellow energy leaped out from its
hand, straight back at her.

She ducked, barely evading the shot.  As it passed her, missing her arm
by no more than a centimetre, she felt its blazing heat.  "I think we're
in trouble," she gasped.

"No kidding," grunted Jupiter, dodging another bolt.  They dived behind
a row of seats and wormed their way along frantically.  "Did you notice,
though?" Jupiter added in a low voice.  "It looks more vulnerable than
the last one.  It's dodging more, and my lightning seemed to hurt it."

"Uh ... right."  Mercury _hadn't_ noticed.  "Hit it from two sides at
once, then?" she suggested.

"You got it.  Let's go!"

                                 --**--

Bendis followed the vitrimorph down the row of the seats, keeping to the
shadows, as it advanced toward Suzue.  She was burning to help somehow,
she was pretty sure that she could distract the creature before it got
to the girl ... and yet, the girl herself would be more help than
anything, if only she could take her Senshi form.  If she only waited a
second longer ...

There.  The vitrimorph raised its arm to strike ... and a symbol burned
on Suzue's forehead.  The symbol of the planet --

Bendis blinked.  She certainly hadn't been expecting _that_.

Never mind.  Now, at last, she knew; finally, she could act.  She
gathered herself to spring.  She would hit the creature on the shoulder,
distract it, make it turn away, give the girl a chance to escape while
it went after her instead.  [Piece of cake,] she thought smugly,
carefully ignoring the rather strong possibility that she'd be seriously
hurt herself.

And at that moment, a voice rang out through the theatre.  She looked
around, startled.  Sailor Jupiter announcing herself, followed a moment
later by Sailor Mercury.  How had _they_ gotten here so quickly?  Never
mind.  They were throwing their attacks; the vitrimorph was moving away,
distracted; now was her chance to act --

She looked back to where Suzue lay, her planet symbol still bright on
her forehead.  But there was someone else there too.  And Bendis
screamed in outrage.

"Noooo!  Not _now_!"

                                 --**--

Artemis found a sunny spot outside the theatre to doze in while the
girls went inside.  He'd been following Miyo, staying out of sight,
since her outburst on Saturday.  Just in case, he told himself firmly.
He'd seen that she had made things up with Itsuko, and was glad, but all
the same ... he didn't really feel that he wanted to talk to her again,
not just yet.  Cats had feelings, too.

When he heard the explosion, though, and the screams that followed it,
he forgot his anger immediately.  There was trouble, and that, in the
end, was all there was to it.  Miyo might know what she was doing, but
Dhiti was still pretty green ... and the hell with pride.  He streaked
into the theatre.

It took him a little time to get inside without being trampled by the
rush of escaping people.  By the time he made it, Miyo and Dhiti had
already gotten out, changed, and were heading back in.  He followed
behind them, watched as they began their attack on the vitrimorph.

When Mercury suggested they split up and hit it from opposite sides, he
started to call out a suggestion of his own.  Then, suddenly, he froze.
There was something else in the theatre -- a strange feeling, almost
familiar somehow.

Finally, he recognised it.  Another Senshi?  Here?

He ran down the aisle, looking right and left.  At last, near the front,
he saw her.  A girl lying against the wall, her skirt up around her
hips, her hair wild around her terrified face, and on her forehead shone
the symbol of --

He blinked, astonished.  _Uranus_?

He shook his head, and started toward her hastily.  Time to ask the
obvious questions later.  For now, he had to give her her henshin wand,
so she could transform and help the others --

Then, from behind him, he heard a wail of rage and frustration.  "Noooo!
Not _now_!"

He whirled -- to see the absolute last person he'd expected to find
here.

"It's not fair!" Bendis hissed at him.  "I found her first!"

"B-bendis?" he stuttered.  Involuntarily, he took a step toward her.
Her eyes widened; instantly, she spun around and fled.

Torn, he watched her go -- wanting to follow, knowing it was too late.
She'd been faster than him for a good while now, and he had no chance of
catching up.  But oh, how he wanted --

Never mind.  Right now there were more important things to worry about.

He ran back to the girl's side.  She stared at him as he approached her,
and flinched back when he spoke.  "Are you all right?" he asked gently.

After a second or two her mouth moved.  "Wh-what --" she began.

"I'm sorry, but there's no time to explain," he said.  "You're just
going to have to trust me.  Here --"

He spun about madly, stretching out with his will for what he wanted.
After a second, it came.  The henshin wand fell to the floor with a
faint clatter.  He nosed it toward her.  "Take it," he said.

Hesitantly she reached out and picked it up.  "What -- I don't
understand --"

"Hold it up, and say the words, 'Uranus planet power, make-up.'"

She stared at him.  "This is some kind of silly dream --"

He stole a quick glance behind him.  Jupiter and Mercury were still
playing cat-and-mouse with the vitrimorph, but which of the two sides
was cat and which was mouse seemed to be debatable.  It looked like a
stalemate, and in battle that was a very dangerous position.

"Just do it!" he urged the girl.  "The others need your help!"

She, too, stole a glance out at the battle that was raging.  "This can't
be happening," she whispered.  But then she took a deep breath.  She
gathered herself, stood up smoothly, raised the stick toward the
ceiling, and cried out:

"URANUS PLANET POWER, MAKE-UP!"

The power descended.  It lifted her, held her in its grip, etching out
around her a circle of energy.  The circle flared -- a sudden burst of
light, a ghostly web of force, taking her, claiming her.  Shifting the
universe around her, making her what she had to be.  The brightness was
too much; he had to close his eyes.  Then it collapsed; the glare winked
out, the figure within spun to a halt.

The Senshi of the Sky stood before him.

She looked down at herself.  "No, not _me_," she wailed suddenly.  "It
can't be _me_!"

"Sailor Uranus," said Artemis, softly but very clearly.  "The others
need your help."

"But --"  She closed her eyes.  "All right.  I'll try."

                                 --**--

Bendis' first reaction had been fury.  After all the effort she'd put in
to find Suzue, now Artemis was just going to waltz in and take over?
Talk about injustice.  Then, when he started toward her, she panicked.
It was blind instinct.  She had a very good idea of just how upset he
was going to be with her, and she was not at all eager to face that.
Not yet.  Not ever, preferably, though she was uncomfortably aware that
there would have to be a reckoning someday.

So, she ran.  Down the aisle, and out through the hole that the
vitrimorph had blasted in the rear wall.  And outside, blinking in the
late sunlight, she stopped, and tried to think what to do next.

Call Beth, was her first reaction.  The more Senshi the better when
fighting those things, as far as she could see.  But there were two
problems with that.  First, she had no idea where Beth was -- she had a
vague memory that the girl was going out shopping this evening.  Second,
Beth didn't have a Senshi communicator.  [Now why didn't I ever think to
give it to her before?]

So Jupiter and Mercury were on their own with this one.  Oh, and Uranus
of course, she thought bitterly, once Artemis finished awakening her
powers.  Damn him!

Then she remembered that Artemis really _would_ have his paws full with
a new Senshi.  And Jupiter and Mercury could certainly do with some
hints, since they hadn't had the benefit of her training.

And really, she thought ruefully, there was just no way she could run
away from a fight.

Muttering a curse, she turned and dashed back into the theatre.

                                 --**--

Sailor Jupiter was still going strong, but Sailor Mercury was beginning
to flag.  She ducked out of sight for a moment to gasp for breath,
shaking her head frustratedly.  She just didn't have the stamina for
this kind of fight.

This blasted monster was quite different from the others.  It didn't
seem to be orienting on either of them, for a start.  The last two had
picked on one Senshi and attacked her persistently, all but ignoring the
others.  This one seemed happy to attack at anyone.  Maybe that was
because they'd come in together?  And then those shots it fired -- they
were hard to dodge, and it could do them so fast!  It took her a couple
of seconds to get off an Ice Spear, but this thing could fire two or
three shots in the same time.

Hitting it from two directions at once had been a good idea.  The
trouble was, so far they'd been unable to manage it.  It seemed to have
an instinct for their tactics; whenever they began a simultaneous
attack, it appeared to sense it and dodge in plenty of time.  It had
taken a couple more hits, and they seemed to have hurt it, but not
enough.  It was moving noticeably slower than when the fight began, so
perhaps they were wearing it down.  The question was, who would wear
down whom first?

She crouched down behind a seat, dodged along the row a little way, and
stole a quick glance over the top.  The vitrimorph was roaring and
clutching its shoulder, where Jupiter had just managed to clip it.  [Way
to go, Hayashi!] she thought.  Taking a quick breath, she stood up and
prepared to fire off her own shot.  But at that moment, someone else
decided to join the fight.

"MUSIC OF THE SPHERES!"

It sounded like the faintest chiming of bells.  There was a faint glow
in the air, stretching out from the palm of the girl who'd shouted.  If
the theatre hadn't been darkened, Mercury was sure she'd never have
noticed it.  And suddenly, her teeth ached.  [Some kind of sonic
attack?] she wondered.

Who on earth was that who'd cast it?

Whoever she was, whatever she'd just hit it with, it was having an
effect.  The vitrimorph seemed frozen in place.  It almost looked as if
it were vibrating.  She was sure that the steam coming out of its ears
was her imagination, though.

The newcomer dropped her beam suddenly and sagged back, as if exhausted.
Well, Mercury could sympathise with that.  She'd lost count of the
number of Ice Spears she'd cast this evening, and she was about ready to
sag too.  And that beam had looked pretty potent.

Who on earth --  And where had she come from?

The vitrimorph was starting to move again.  No time for idle
speculation.  Mercury threw her Ice Spear and leaped for more cover
before the enemy could retaliate.  As she landed she saw her attack
strike home; the vitrimorph was still moving too slowly to dodge it.
This time when the Ice Spear hit there was a sharp cracking sound, and
she saw splinters of crystal fly.

"Looks like Uranus seriously weakened it," said a voice.  "That gives me
an idea."

She looked around, but for several seconds saw nothing.  Then, finally,
she made it out: a small cat, with the full moon on its forehead.  It
was a tabby, almost invisible in the darkness.

"Who are you?" she said stupidly.  Then: "Wait a minute.  Bendis, right?
Good!  Is Venus here?"

The cat didn't take her eyes off the vitrimorph.  "She can't make it.
Look, when Uranus attacks again --"

"Uranus?  Sailor _Uranus_?"

"Shut up and listen!  Get ready to attack.  When Uranus hits it again,
throw your Spear at the same time."

"Right.  That might work.  What about Jupiter?  We need to get her to
hit it too --"

"No!  It's the physical impact that's going to do the damage!  Her
thunderbolt might just fuse it back together!"

Mercury blinked.  [Great,] she thought, [now I've got to start studying
physics.]  Wait a minute, though, maybe the idea did make a kind of
sense?  "Sonic attack," she said slowly.  "I ... see.  I think."

Bendis glared at her.  "Well, stop thinking, and get ready to attack!
Honestly, what's Artemis been teaching you?"

Mercury opened her mouth to reply, then carefully closed it again.
[That's one uppity cat,] she thought.  All the same, she realised
grumpily, it did have a point.

She sneaked a peek over the row of seats.  Jupiter was manoeuvring
around for another attack.  There was a streak of blood on her face.
[When did that happen?  No, Hayashi, stay down, let us handle it --]

"MUSIC OF THE SPHERES!"

Mercury jumped up and roared out, "ICE SPEAR!"

The two attacks struck home.  And then the air was filled with flying
crystal shards.

When Mercury could see again, she looked over to where Bendis had been
standing, to thank her.  But the cat was gone.

                                 --**--

Jupiter stood up slowly, rubbing at a dozen new cuts on her arms and
face.  She'd been standing entirely too close to that explosion.  Pity
they didn't have Hotaru here --

And who on _earth_ was that new Senshi?

The three of them trudged toward each other, carefully brushing shards
of crystal out of their hair and clothing.  She finally got a good look
at the newcomer, and recognised her colours with a start.

"Sailor Uranus, I presume?" she said.  It wasn't Haruka, though.  She
felt a sudden pang.  Another old friend lost.

"Umm.  I suppose so," said Uranus.  She looked dazed and tired.  "This
is all so -- it's just --"

"Yeah, I know."  Jupiter managed a weary grin.  "Don't worry.  You'll
get used to it.  Listen, we ought to --"

"Sailor Uranus, I presume?" said Mercury, hurrying up to them with a
smile on her face.  "Hi, I'm Mercury -- I guess you've met Jupiter ..."

Jupiter scowled at her.  "Dhiti-chan, this is no time for --"

"How touching," said someone.  A cold, grating voice.  They looked
around wildly, but there was nobody in view.  Then, almost as one, they
looked up.

There was a woman hanging in the air.  Jupiter had a sudden sense of
deja vu.  How many times had she seen this scene played out ...?

"A reunion of old friends, I see," the woman said.  She was dressed in
midnight blue, with silver trimmings at her waist and wrists.  The
steady flickering of the movie, which was still, inanely, playing on
from the projection booth, made it hard to make out her face.  It could
not, however, disguise the enormous glowing jewel embedded in her
forehead.

"And now there's another one of you," she continued.  "How sweet."

Jupiter scowled up at her.  "Who are you, and what do you want?"

"'Call me Ishmael.'"  The woman's laughter was like a buzz-saw cutting
through crystal.  "And I want ... I want ... the Moon.  On a platter."

"You're crazy," said Mercury, shocked.

"Am I?  We shall see ... when the Moon is full."  The woman laughed
again.  "In the meantime, you seem to have won the day, so I must be
going.  Rest assured, little Senshi, we will meet again."  She raised one
clenched fist, and they saw something glittering attached to her wrist
bracer.  "I guarantee it."

"Don't jump to conclusions," Jupiter called out.  "SUPREME THUNDER!"

The levinbolt lanced out, catching the woman by surprise.  It was not
aimed at her, though.  It struck the object on her wrist squarely, with
a shower of sparks.

The woman in blue stared at her wrist in shock.  The device that had
been mounted there was shattered, ruined.  Blood was dripping from where
it had been.

"The unkindest cut of all," she whispered.  Then she raised the wound to
her mouth and sucked it.  When she lifted her head again, her lips were
stained red.  She grinned.

"Bravo, little Senshi," she said.  "Another victory.  Enjoy it while you
can."  She bent her head to the wound again, and as she did so, the air
around her seemed to shimmer.  In another moment, she had vanished.

"I think I'm going to be sick," muttered Mercury.

"Save it for later," Jupiter advised her.  "Right now, we've got another
problem.  I recognised that thing on her wrist.  It was a tracker; she
probably used it to find us here."

"So?"

"So ... it was Crystal Tokyo technology.  And none of that works any
more.  So how was she able to use it?"

They both stared at her: Mercury in growing dismay, Uranus in utter
confusion.  "You mean --" began Mercury.

Jupiter shook her head, suddenly tired.  "I don't know what I mean.  For
now, I think we should get out of here, and go somewhere where we can
talk."  She winked at Uranus.  "It seems introductions are in order."

                                 --**--

Nanako watched them leave from her hiding place in the back row.  When
they were safely gone, she stood up and stretched, brushing a thin
sprinkle of crystal fragments off herself.

"That," she remarked to nobody in particular, "was _much_ better than
the viddy program."

She had seen the Senshi at last!  And a new one had appeared!  They'd
called her Sailor Uranus -- such a pity that Nanako had been looking the
other way when she changed ...

Oh.  And Jupiter had called Mercury 'Dhiti.'  So, that theory was
confirmed.  [And I actually spoke to her when she wasn't transformed.  A
Claver ... I think I'll recognise her when I see her again ...]

She made her way out of the theatre, humming softly to herself.  [Now,
should I tell Hideo about this or not?] she wondered.

Out on the street she started to look around for Eitoku.  They still had
a date to finish, after all.  As she hunted through the crowd who were
still staring at the theatre, she bumped into Iku, of all people.  The
girl looked as if she'd just run a marathon.  Nanako debated telling her
an edited version of what had just happened, but at that moment she
finally saw Eitoku, a little distance away.  Well, Iku could wait.

The rest of Nanako's evening was very enjoyable, in quite a different
way.


                            ****************


Artemis ran quickly through the streets, his mind whirling.  So many
unexpected things, all cropping up at once.  Sailor Uranus ... Bendis
... a new enemy ... and of all things, functioning Crystal Tokyo
technology!

He had followed the three girls out of the theatre, watching them just
long enough to make sure they got away safely.  He expected they were
heading for Miyo's or Dhiti's house.  Good, that should be safe enough.
It gave him time to carry out his own errand.

He reached his destination, finally: the Olympus building.  Now, if only
Itsuko could tell him what he needed to know ...

He made his way up to Itsuko's suite.  This took some effort; he could
not reach the keypads to get into her private stairwell, so he had to
follow quite a circuitous route.  It was an embarrassingly hackneyed
solution, but sometimes ventilation ducts actually _did_ work as access
ways.

A little over an hour after he left the theatre, he dropped to the floor
in Itsuko's kitchen and stood for a minute, panting.  Then he set out in
search of Itsuko herself.

She was in the living room, watching the news on the viddy.  She glanced
up as he nosed the door open.  When she saw who it was, she raised her
eyebrows silently and tapped a key on her control pad.  Then she nodded.
It was safe to talk.

"I take it there was something about us on the news tonight?" he asked.

"A battle at a movie theatre.  They didn't have many details.  Was there
some kind of problem?"

"Not exactly."  Artemis hesitated.  "Itsuko, this may sound strange, but
... have you seen Setsuna lately?"

"Setsuna?" Itsuko said, looking taken aback.  "No, I haven't.  What on
earth do you ...?"  She broke off, considered, and then said slowly,
"It's funny you should ask, though.  I'd always thought she died back
during the Fall.  But then, about a week and a half ago, I saw her in a
dream.  So maybe ..."  She shook her head.  "I don't know.  Why do you
ask?"

"Umm.  It may be nothing.  But, well, I was hoping you'd know how to get
hold of her --"

There was a knock at the door.

They exchanged glances.  That hadn't been the door to Itsuko's suite; it
had been the door to the living room itself.

"Come in," Itsuko called.  Her hand reached down under a cushion and
took hold of something.  A weapon?  Artemis prepared himself for action.

The door opened, and a tall, beautiful woman with long, green-black hair
walked calmly into the room.  She gave them a curt nod.  "Rei, Artemis,"
she said.  "I believe you wanted to speak to me."

                                 --**--

Itsuko managed to close her mouth after ... not more than a year or so.
"Setsuna," she said.  "What -- how --"

"I'm using the name Fumihiko Sadako, at the moment."  The newcomer sat
down gracefully, without waiting for permission.  "And I believe you're
now calling yourself Pappadopoulos Itsuko?"

"Yes, I ..."  Itsuko finally managed to gain control of herself.  She
released the weapon she'd been holding.  "Yes, for the last twenty years
or so.  How did you -- no, wait a minute, that's a stupid question --"
She took a deep breath, and calmed herself with an effort.  "Uh ...
hello."

Sadako regarded her with cool red eyes.  Then, suddenly, she smiled, and
the tension in the room seemed to vanish.  "Hello," she responded.
"You're looking well, Itsuko ... Artemis."

"Looking well?"  The cat snorted.  "Set-- Sadako, you can't just walk in
like this!  Where have you _been_ all these years?!"

Sadako lifted an eyebrow.  "Doing my job," she said.

"Oh, that's helpful --"

"Let's get to the point," she suggested calmly.  "I don't have a lot of
time to spare.  Artemis, you wanted to see me about something.  Well,
here I am."

"Oh ... yes.  Umm."  Artemis looked flustered, and Itsuko wondered just
what had happened at the theatre earlier.  "Well, we ... we found a new
Senshi today."

Itsuko blinked.  Sadako simply cocked her head at him.  "Ah.  That would
be the new Sailor Mars, I assume?"

"No, it -- dammit, Setsuna, that's pretty cold, even for you!"

"Oh?"  Sadako looked back to Itsuko.  Itsuko simply stared back at her,
trying to keep her face perfectly expressionless.  It wasn't easy; that
question had hurt.  A lot.

"Itsuko," said Sadako gently.  "You knew this was coming.  You knew that
the torch had to pass onward."

After a moment, Itsuko bowed her head.  "Yes," she said.  "I knew it."
There was more than a trace of sarcasm in her voice as she added,
"Forgive me if I can't ... accept it quite as easily as you."

"I have to accept many things.  Don't make the mistake of thinking I
enjoy it."  Itsuko looked up hotly; but Sadako was no longer paying any
attention to her.  "You said it was _not_ Mars?" she said to Artemis.

The cat stirred.  "No.  It was ... ahh, it was Sailor Uranus."

"Uranus?" repeated Itsuko, startled.

Sadako's face became very still for a moment.  At last she said, "Ah.
That would be your great-granddaughter's doing, I suppose?  How very
enterprising of her."

"Umm, yes ... she was there, but she ran for it when I arrived."

"Your family relations are not really my concern."  Sadako almost looked
as if she were suppressing a smile, but it was hard to tell.  "What _is_
your problem?"

Artemis took a deep breath.  "Are you going to want to take command of
her?  The Outer Senshi have always been, well, almost a separate group,
usually taking their orders from you.  I mean --"

"I know what you mean.  Hmm."  Sadako cocked her head in thought.  "It
won't be necessary," she said at last.  "That role for the Outer Senshi
is no longer required.  Go ahead and take her into your group."

"What?"  From his surprised look, Itsuko realised that he'd been hoping
for this, but hadn't expected to get it so easily.  "I mean ... are you
sure?  The Outer Senshi --"

Sadako shrugged.  She was definitely smiling now.  "If there were a
Sailor Moon you could ask her, of course.  She would have the ultimate
authority."

Itsuko sat up straight and glared at her.  "Oh, please.  Is that some
kind of hint?  Damn it, why can't you ever answer a simple question, or
just come out and say what you mean?  For heaven's sake, you came here
to talk to us -- so talk!  What happened to you after the Fall?  Where
have you _been_?  And ... is there going to be a new Sailor Moon or not?
Or did Serenity manage to send herself forward somehow?"

Sadako shook her head.  The smile was gone.  "If you want predictions,
try a fire reading.  Don't ask me to be your oracle; the future is too
delicate a web for me to risk that way.  You know that."

"Yeah, that's what you always say," Itsuko grouched.  "But you're still
the one who can pop forward whenever you want and see what things are
going to be like.  Do you call that protecting your 'delicate web'?"

"I call it irrelevant."  Sadako's tone was cold.  "I am no longer able
to travel in time."

"What!"  Itsuko and Artemis stared at her.  "What happened?" asked
Artemis, horrified.

"The Gate of Time is sealed.  I no longer hold my talisman.  I am bound
in time now, just as you are."

"But ... how?  Why?" asked Itsuko.

Sadako sighed.  "The Fall had many repercussions.  Some of them were far
worse than this.  You might consider the loss of the Ginzuishou, for
example.  In any case, I am not completely powerless.  I still see the
probabilities, the branching of the world-lines.  I can still guide
events, with some difficulty.  But I am undeniably ... less than I was."

Itsuko said hesitantly, "So ... you don't know how all this is going to
end up?  What the future's going to be like, this time?"

Sadako's expression was grim.  "I know how it _must_ end up.  If it does
not, there _is_ no future.  But the path ..."  She shook her head
slowly.  "The path is unclear.  The world-lines are blurring.  I can see
only a little way."

"But --"

She stood up suddenly.  "Enough.  Artemis has his answer, and you have
... perhaps more than was wise.  And I cannot afford to delay.  I must
go."  She started toward the door.

"Wait!" cried Artemis.  Sadako looked back.  "At least tell us where
you're staying," Artemis suggested.  "Where can we contact you, if
necessary?"

Sadako gave him a cool smile.  "Don't worry.  I'll be seeing Itsuko
again, before very long."  She closed the living-room door behind her.

The cat and the woman stared at each other for a long moment.  "Well,"
said Artemis at last.  "That was --"

"Wait," said Itsuko suddenly.  "Wait a minute."  There was one more
thing she had to say to Sadako -- to Sailor Pluto -- before she lost her
nerve.  Something that she'd been thinking about for quite a few years
now.

She opened the door and ran after Sadako, catching up with her just as
she woman was opening the door into the stairwell.  Sadako raised her
eyebrows as Itsuko ran up, but did not speak.

Itsuko took a deep breath.  "We always used to wonder about you," she
said.  "How it must feel, just ... surviving on like that.  I mean,
you've never said how long you've been -- doing what you do -- but ..."
She stopped, fumbling for the words.

"Yes?"  Sadako's expression was unreadable.

"It's just ... after the last seven hundred years ..."  Itsuko let out a
long breath.  "I think maybe I have an idea what it must be like for
you.  I just wanted to say that."

"Seven hundred years?"  The Senshi of Time gave her a long, thoughtful
look.  Then she shook her head.  "Wait twenty times as long again.  Then
you can tell me that."

Itsuko stared at her.  "That's how old you are?"

"No.  But it will give you an idea of the perspective."  Sadako closed
the door behind her, and was gone.


                            ****************


Suzue walked home slowly.  She felt dazed.  She had spent the last hour
at the house of Sharma Dhiti ... who, it seemed, was Sailor Mercury.
The real Sailor Mercury, not a fake after all.

And she had been talking to Hayashi Miyo, who was Sailor Jupiter.
Another legend brought to life.

And earlier at the theatre, she had unmistakably met Artemis.  _The_
Artemis.

And they had told her that she was one of them.

This was all impossible.  Unthinkable.  Dreadfully wrong.

[What do I do now?] she thought, bewildered.  [Oh, Holy Mother, what am
I supposed to do now?]

She walked up the path to her front door and let herself inside quietly.
She almost forgot to remove her shoes; that was how confused she felt.
She went through to her room, nodding to her parents as she passed the
family room.

At the door of her room she hesitated.  Then she left it, unopened, and
went on to the door at the end of the passage, and into the family
shrine.

It was small and simple, as was fitting.  Theirs was a small and humble
faith.  She bowed to the altar, dipped her finger in the little bowl of
oil, and sketched the sacred mark, the crescent, on her forehead.  Then
she knelt down before the altar and tried to pray.

It was no good.  The words wouldn't come.

She raised her eyes to the painting on the wall above the altar, the
painting of her goddess.  And in her heart she cried out to her:

[Oh, Holy Mother -- oh, blessed Lady Serenity -- what am I supposed to
do _now_?]


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                E N D   O F   C H A P T E R   S E V E N
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NEXT:  A conspiracy is unmasked; so is a Senshi; and a training session
goes horribly wrong ...



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Author's Notes
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And so we reach the one-third mark in this story.  Seven chapters down,
fourteen to go.

It wasn't intended to be this big when I started.  I began with a very
simple idea: what if Crystal Tokyo didn't last nearly as long as nearly
everyone expects it to?  The usual assumption seems to be that once CT
is founded everyone will live happily ever after.  There are exceptions,
of course, and a few stories have shown a CT that is hardly a paradise.
But still, Utopia or not, CT is generally held to be the endpoint.

But, I thought, what if Crystal Tokyo were destroyed?  Perhaps the story
would have to begin all over again.  Some of the faces might be new, and
some of them might be the same old ones, reborn yet again.  A fresh
start, in a distant future that's a mixture of the familiar and strange.
(And in this chapter, we finally get a glimpse of how and why that
future was shaped.)

Where does it go from here?

Well, the enemy behind the Serenity Council still hasn't quite shown its
face ... and there's still the mystery of who or what destroyed Crystal
Tokyo in the first place.  A lot of questions (though not all) will be
answered in chapter 9, when the story of the Great Fall is finally told.
From there, the story continues to build up to a climax in chapter 12,
and thereafter takes a change in direction, developing toward the
ultimate confrontation with the Enemy.

A few miscellaneous notes:

-- Probably my biggest regret on writing this is that in most cases I
   was not able to choose character names with the same level of meaning
   that Naoko Takeuchi did.  A few characters do have names that were
   picked for a reason, but in general where someone has a particularly
   appropriate name, this is accidental.

-- It's an unfortunate coincidence that the name of Third Tokyo sounds
   rather like the Tokyo-3 of "Neon Genesis Evangelion".  But a
   coincidence is exactly what it is.  ("Second Tokyo," if you were
   wondering, was Crystal Tokyo itself.)

-- These chapters seem to be getting longer and longer.  I'm sorry.  I'd
   like to say they're going to drop back to a more reasonable length,
   but I can't.  (I thought this one was going to be relatively short,
   and it ended up the longest to date!)
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Thanks to my pre-readers, Sandy Drobic and Bob Schroeck.
Draft version:  3 October, 1998.
Release version: 17 October, 1998.
Revised: 5 November, 2005.