I have a message from another time...

                     Eyrie Productions, Unlimited
                               presents

                UNDOCUMENTED FEATURES FUTURE IMPERFECT
                      - SYMPHONY OF THE SWORD -

                 Fifth Movement: Roses in Springtime

                         Benjamin D. Hutchins
                         with Kris Overstreet

            Full credits for the Art of Noise's 2405.03.26
               performance playlist follow the Movement

                (c) 2001 Eyrie Productions, Unlimited


                        11:51 AM EASTERN TIME
                        SUNDAY, MARCH 20, 2405
                   WORCESTER PREPARATORY INSTITUTE
                   WORCESTER, MASSACHUSETTS, EARTH

        Kaitlyn Hutchins wasn't quite awake, but she was awake enough
to be aware of that fact.  It was a most enjoyable sensation, knowing
that she was in her own bed, not quite awake, with no reason to change
that situation.  She turned over, hugged her favorite stuffed tiger a
little tighter, and burrowed down, smiling to herself.  It was just
the kind of not-awakening that meant she could go back and finish that
pleasantly semi-erotic dream with a good chance of actually remembering 
it when she did wake up.
        Paris had been lovely, but it was good to be home.

        She woke again in half an hour, this time fully, brightly
awake.  Her plan to cheat jet lag by staying up all night had been a
success, and she felt a little smug about that as she climbed down out
of her top bunk, put on her glasses, and surveyed Morgan 412 in the
dim light that filtered through the closed blinds.
        Her roommate Utena Tenjou was still asleep, which Kate thought
was quite decadent, given that the girl had been in bed, and showed
signs of having been there for some time, when Kate got home at a
quarter past 2.  Kate considered rousting her, decided it would be
cruel - from the look on her face, maybe -she- was having a nice
morning dream as well.  Instead, Kate quietly got fresh clothes from
her bureau, put them up on her bunk, and then went to get her bathroom
things from her suitcase.
        This led to a revelation that she found slightly intriguing,
slightly amusing, and slightly unsettling all at the same time.  When
she'd arrived home from Paris in the wee hours of this morning, she'd
been bone-tired.  She'd come into the room without turning on any
lights, dropped her suitcase and duffel bag on either side of her just
inside the door, taken her pajamas and Seven the tiger out of her
duffel, and gone to bed without doing much in the way of investigating
the room around her.
        As such, she hadn't noticed that she'd come within about four
inches of plunking her suitcase down on her brother Corwin's head.
        "W-what're you d-doing here?" she asked his unconscious shape
quietly.  Then, shrugging, she moved her suitcase away from him and
opened it up to get her toothbrush and stuff.

        They were both awake when she got back from the bathroom,
sitting in the two battered-but-serviceable armchairs Kate and Utena
had bought at Worcester's Salvation Army thrift store and talking.  As
Kate entered Morgan 412, they got up, smilingly welcoming her home.
        Kate accepted their welcome with good cheer, then threw Corwin
out into the hall so she could get dressed.
        While he was out there, she asked Utena, "T-taking a
ch-chance, aren't you?"
        Utena looked puzzled.  "Huh?  Oh - you mean Corwin?  Nah, it's
fine.  Janice is OK with it.  Alverson's been away since Thursday -
some kind of family thing - and won't be back until tomorrow."
        Carol Alverson, freshman, was Morgan 4th's duly designated
Broadbank Toady.  With her gone, Resident Advisor Janice Barlow's
assessment that the coast was clear for Corwin to stay was probably
right, but still, it was a bit chancy.  It would've been one thing
with Kaitlyn there, but with her absent, the whole thing took on
different connotations.
        On the other hand, he -had- been on the floor.  Not that an
outside observer seeing him enter but not leave the room could tell
-where- he was sleeping... 
        All that played out in fairly plain fashion on Kate's face as
she dressed.  As she interpreted it, Utena didn't become indignant or
defensive, only serious.
        "He's had a rough week," she said.  "One of his classmates at
Crescent Heights died Wednesday."
        Kate blinked, horrified.  "What?"
        Utena nodded and told her the whole story.  There wasn't much
to tell - just that Corwin's classmate Kala had been murdered
Wednesday night, by her own mother no less.  She'd asked Corwin to
come over and help her with her homework, but, being tired, he'd
some-other-timed and gone home to have a nap instead.  Thus, when it
happened, he'd blamed himself.
        "S-so he c-c-came here... D-Dad must have kn-known, but h-he
d-didn't mention it.  P-probably d-didn't want to w-w-worry me on my
b-birthd-day.  Th-that's why he w-w-was here Th-Thursday n-night."
        "Yeah.  He was going to go back Thursday morning, but after
breakfast, we decided it'd be better if he stuck around here for the
weekend.  Hordes of grief counselors and whatnot at the Heights... "
        Kate understood.  She and her brother shared an aversion to
being counseled by strangers, preferring to discuss their problems
with their family and friends or keep them private as the situation
warranted.  In a crisis like this one, Corwin would do anything he
could to avoid the sympathetic strangers sure to be swarming around
his school, and instead seek solace in his own way.  Under normal
circumstances, that would probably have meant vanishing rather
unhealthily into his underground workshop for several days... but
since Utena entered both their lives, nothing was quite normal any
more, was it?
        Kaitlyn smiled at the thought, left it unvoiced, and went to
let him back into the room.  He'd washed his face - his bangs were
damp - and brushed his teeth while he was waiting.  Kate said she
hoped they hadn't kept him waiting too long.
        Corwin grinned.  "Nah.  I was just - "
        There was a soft knock at the door.  Kate went to answer it
and found Dorothy.
        "Good morning, Kaitlyn," said she.
        "M-morning, D-Dorothy," said Kate.  "C-c'mon in."
        "Thank you."  The robot girl crossed the threshold, shut the
door behind her, then handed Kate a small package.  "This is for you,"
she said.  "Birthday greetings, albeit belated ones."
        Kate smiled.  "Th-thank you."
        "Yeah, now that you're up, c'mon - you've got a ton of loot
here."  Utena indicated a pile of wrapped packages on the floor by the
feet of the bunk beds.  "Let's go down to the Wedge, get the gang
together and have a little party."

        This they did, and "the gang" turned up in force, crowding the
biggest Wedge booth and piling the table with gaily wrapped packages.
Moose MacEchearn appropriated one of the Wedge's trash barrels,
bringing it over and removing the swing-gate lid to make throwing away
the wrapping paper and such as easy as possible.
        Not all the packages were brightly colored; a couple had come
in the mail, and so sported the standard blue and silver colors of
Federated Express.  There was also a stack of cards in envelopes, some
with postage, most without.  Kate started on those, beginning with the
stamped ones, since they were most likely from people who weren't
present in person.
        "Aw," she said, smiling at the first one.  It was a thick card
in a heavy cream-colored envelope, addressed in the most astoundingly
regular, peculiarly angular handwriting Utena had ever seen.  Kate
carefully opened the end and drew out the card.  It was also creamy in
color, and marked with golden script in a language Utena didn't
recognize.  She let out a surprised little sound, then opened the
card.  The inside was also marked with the same golden alien script,
with more of that almost-machine-precise handwriting - this time in
the same alien language - below, then what looked like a signature.
        "What is it?" asked Saionji.
        "It's a c-c-card from P-Prof-fessor Stuvek," said Kate with a
fond smile.  "I'm n-not sure w-w-what it says... I'll h-have to
t-t-translate it l-later."
        "Professor Stuvek sent you a birthday card?" said Azalynn in a
surprised tone; then she smirked a little.  "So much for Kolinahr."
        "I d-d-don't think he w-was ever a c-c-candidate for that,"
said Kate with a grin.  At Saionji's continued look of confusion, she
explained, "P-Professor Stuvek w-was the V-Vulcan t-teacher here,
b-before the V-V-Vulcan g-government rec-called all their n-nationals
over Ch-Christmas."
        "And Kate was his teacher's pet," said Amanda Dessler with an
air of amusement.
        "Am-m-manda, I w-was not," said Kate with good-humored
indignation.  "I d-d-did do p-pretty well in his c-class, th-though,
and he ap-p-preciated th-that."  She smiled, slightly embarrassed, and
said, "I g-guess I have D-Dad's g-gift for l-l-languages."
        "That, and Professor Stuvek is really an old softie at heart,"
said Azalynn with a grin.  She reached into her shirt and pulled a
small, gleaming thing out on a chain.  It was a medallion, its main
body silver, circular and about an inch across, with a golden triangle
offset against it at an angle, its base protruding beyond the circle.
There was a small diamond set into the medallion at the upper point of
the triangle.  "He gave me this."
        "What is it?" asked Utena.
        "An IDIC.  It's a Vulcan philosophical thing - 'Infinite
Diversity in Infinite Combinations'.  One time after class we got to
talking about my religion's philosophical disciplines.  He gave me
that look Vulcans do - I can't really describe it, but when you meet
one someday you'll understand, and said," (and here Azalynn adopted
what Kaitlyn recognized as a pretty good impression of Professor
Stuvek's dry, pedantic tones) "'You, Miss dv'Ir Natashkan, are living
proof of the value of the IDIC doctrine.'"
        "What does that mean?" Utena wondered.
        "Got me," Azalynn replied with a grin, dropping the pendant
back into her shirt.  "I think Vulcans use 'diverse' as a euphemism
for 'weird' a lot of the time, but Professor Stuvek likes weird or he
wouldn't have come to teach here."  She sighed, looking a little
glum.  "I miss him.  His classes were hard, but he was really fair.
And he'd have loved to meet Dorothy."
        "Well, maybe the situation will cool down some and he'll be
able to come back."
        "Maybe.  Anyway, it's nice to know he's keeping in touch.  Is
there a return address on there, Kate?  I'll have to write him."
        Kate nodded, dealt with the rest of the cards, and then
started opening packages.  She started with Dorothy's, which seemed
only fair, since its presentation to her upstairs had triggered this
whole gathering in the first place.
        "Oh m-my," said Kate as she freed the small object from its
packaging, held it in the palm of her hand, and looked at it.
"D-Dorothy, it's b-b-beautiful."
        The robot looked very faintly relieved.  "I'm glad you like
it," she said.  "Corwin has told me of your fondness for timepieces;
the style... was a guess."
        Kaitlyn smiled and turned the pocket watch over in her hands,
placing it across her palm.  It was hunter-cased, completely enclosed
in gleaming silvery metal, and when she pressed the stud, it didn't
open.  She looked puzzled, and faintly uncomfortable - how terrible
Dorothy would feel if there were some problem with her gift! - and
then realized that there was nothing wrong with the watch.  She was
simply holding it wrong.
        She put it in her -left- hand, and then it sprang open easily,
revealing a glowing semi-projective holographic face.  That was so
unexpected that she let out a little surprised sound, and Dorothy
smiled slightly, gratified.
        "It has many functions," she explained.  "The documentation is
in the box.  The case is the only antiquated thing about it."
        Kaitlyn closed the watch again and smiled at Dorothy.
        "Th-thank you," she said.
        "Happy birthday," said Dorothy.
        Kate tucked the watch into the top pocket of her shirt, making
a mental note to get a chain for it.  Then she set to opening the rest
of the presents.  She had thoughtful friends, friends who knew her
well.  Their gifts weren't extravagant, but they were well-chosen,
even those of the ones whose friend she hadn't been for very long.
Kyouichi Saionji, for instance, had known her only since the week
before Christmas (at which, for their first meeting, they'd engaged in
her first life-or-death sword duel, no less), but his gift was
perfectly appropriate to the context of their young friendship - a
sword maintenance kit, compact and sturdily cased, just the thing for
the journeywoman samurai on the go.
        Azalynn quietly cautioned her not to open her gift in front of
the others, so with a mixture of curiosity, anticipation, and dread,
she slipped the flat little package surreptitiously into her pocket
instead.  Amanda Dessler seemed to be the only one who noticed; she
smirked slightly but said nothing.
        From the others, there were books - this was a literate group,
with wide-ranging tastes, and they gave each other books quite often -
and music, always a good choice for Kate.  Moose presented her with a
somewhat bulky item which turned out to be the newest Harlan McCall
mystery, only out in steelcover back on Hoffman.  It weighed 25
pounds, but it wouldn't be available in any more manageable edition
anywhere else in the Federation for six months.  Kate, being a huge
McCall fan, would gladly put up with a book she had to leave lying on
the floor in order to read for the chance to read the newest
installment without waiting that long.
        The two newest Duelists, Mia Ausa and the Barsaivian t'skrang
named T'skaia, came in a bit late, after she'd finished dealing with
the packages and the assembled were all sitting around the bench
discussing Paris.  Sky had a big, flat package, maybe two feet by
three, under one arm; Mia's was considerably smaller, a little square
box that fit in her hand.
        Utena, sitting in the bench beside Kate and presiding over the
disposal of the wrapping paper, was still not quite used to Sky.  Not
that she didn't like him, because she did, but simply because he
invariably startled her a little when he appeared.  In the world of
her birth, there were no thinking creatures that were not human (or at
least, she thought darkly, that did not look human), and T'skaia most
assuredly was not that.  He was roughly humanoid, with arms, legs and
a head in basically the right place, but no human ever had bright blue
leathery skin, a head shaped like a pteranodon's, or a powerful,
mobile tail almost as long as the rest of him was tall.
        Mia wasn't quite human either, but she was a lot less
startling about it; she was a pretty girl, not a flashy dresser, quiet
of demeanor.  The only thing about her that was plainly not human was
the bony crest that spanned the back of her head, anchored at her
temples; and that was only obvious on the days when she had her long,
wavy ebony hair tucked underneath it.  The ridge of bone was an
inheritance from her Minbari mother, as were her almost translucently
pale skin and the slight accent in her speech.  The hair had certainly
come from her Earthman father - no Minbari had any.
        "A hearty welcome home to you, Mademoiselle President," said
T'skaia with a bow, sweeping his feather-plumed hat from his pointy,
sunburst-crested head and nearly raking the assemblage with it as he
did so.  "Please excuse our tardiness, and permit me to extend you my
very best wishes for a happy hatching-day."
        Kate smiled slightly and chose not to point out to her
reptilian schoolmate that she was a mammal and hadn't hatched.  Sky
was certainly well aware of that; it was just that in his native
language, "hatching" and "birth" were synonyms.
        "You're n-not l-l-late," she told him.  "Att-t-tendance isn't
m-m-mandatory, after all," she added with a wider smile.
        The t'skrang slapped his tail heartily against the carpeted
floor - his race's equivalent to a barking laugh - and nodded
acquiescence.  "Nevertheless, we are the last to arrive," he said.
"Please, accept this with my compliments."  He held out the large,
flat package.
        "My g-goodness," said Kate.  She took it, tore away the paper,
then oriented it properly and admired it.
        It was a painting, acrylic on duracanvas, if Kate was any
judge, quite nicely executed.  It depicted the precise moment at which
Elizabeth Broadbank had lost her duel, now famed throughout the
student body, with Utena Tenjou - the duel before the President of the
Institute which had sealed the charter of the Institute Duelists'
Society.  Utena had been captured exactly at the peak of her great
leaping strike, the signature she put at the end of every duel, her
long, lean body fully extended, the Thorn of the Rose pointing her way
forward like a gleaming black finger.  T'skaia's eye for detail was
excellent; the look of determination on Utena's face was perfectly
rendered, her azure eyes almost -alive-, and the scarlet runes glowing
along the Thorn's blade were accurate.
        "Oh m-m-MY," Kate added.  "Th-this is l-lovely."
        "You flatter me," said T'skaia with another graceful bow.
"The arts are very important on my homeworld; in ancient times
they were the only way in which people could tell whether they could
trust in one another.  It's still said on Barsaive that a man whom the
Muses cannot make use of is already the tool of something else."
        "W-well," said Kate with a smile, "I th-think it's s-s-safe to
ass-s-sume that you're O-k-k-K, then."
        "Good likeness," Utena mused.  "I like how you managed to
mostly hide Liza behind my hair."
        "Sadly, I cannot take the credit for that," Sky said wryly.
"The image is as I saw it; Fortune has already provided that happy
circumstance."
        They all chuckled at that, and Kate set the painting carefully
down on the table.  "I'll h-hang it in our c-c-club office," she
said.  "That w-way we c-can all enj-joy it."
        "I guess I'm last," said Mia calmly.  Smiling, she presented
her package.  "Happy birthday, Kaitlyn."
        Kate thanked her and opened it, revealing a datacrystal.
        "It's some recordings of ancient Minbari music, mostly by the
Yedor crystal orchestra," Mia explained.  "Some of the pieces date to
the earliest days of human civilization.  One of them is reputed to
have been composed by Valen Himself.  I hope you like it."
        Kaitlyn smiled.  "M-Minbari c-c-c-crystal s-symph-phonies!"
she exclaimed, delighted.  "I h-h-heard one w-w-w-when I w-was
f-f-five, b-but rec-c-cordings are h-h-hard to f-f-find.  Th-thank
you!"
        They cleaned up and adjourned, first to Morgan 412 so Kate
could put her things away, then to invade Ping's Garden for the
celebratory dinner, celebrating both her birthday and her victory over
what Juri wryly referred to (when she finally got out of bed) as "the
forces of cacophony" back in Paris.
        Then it was time for Corwin to go - to head back to New Avalon
at last and see about finding a way to resume the routine his life had
had before Wednesday.
        "Before I go," he said as he shouldered the duffel bag he and
Utena had bought to hold the -clothes- he and Utena had bought when it
became obvious on Thursday that he wasn't going home, "there's
something I have to see."  He grinned at Kate.  "And you know what it
is... "
        Kate went red.  "Oh, c-c'mon, C-Corwin," she said, but he
shook his head implacably, the grin still in place.  Kate sighed,
shoulders slumping in defeat.  "OK, f-f-fine," she said.  "W-wait
outside."
        Corwin obediently went outside, closing the 412 door behind
him and then leaning against it, looking thoughtfully across the hall
at the closed door to 413, Dorothy and Juri's room.  As he did so, the
door to 411 opened, and Janice Barlow, Morgan 4th's Resident Advisor,
looked out.  Seeing him standing there with his bag over his shoulder,
she smiled.
        "Headed home, finally?" she asked.
        "Yep, in a few minutes," he replied.  "Listen - thanks for not
giving me a hard time this week."
        Janice waved it off.  "I'm not your mom," she said carelessly,
"I don't have to keep you honest if there's nobody around who'll
complain."
        Corwin reddened.  "It wasn't - " he said, but Janice laughed.
        "Yeah, I know," said the RA; then she gave him a speculative
look and added, "And damned if I don't believe you for some reason.
Crazy world, isn't it?"
        The door to 412 opened, almost spilling Corwin back inside; as
he regained his balance, he turned to see Utena, almost convulsed with
laughter, leaning out through the gap.
        "OK," she said between chortles, "it's ready.  C'mon and see."
        "Take it easy, kid," said Janice.  "Have a nice flight home."
        Corwin thanked her again and went into 412.
        Janice smiled and went back into her own room.  Nice kid.  A
little obvious, but who isn't at that age?
        Her datacom terminal was beeping at her.  New mail, she
supposed; she sat down and punched up the message.

Return-Path: <durandal@durandal.wpi.k12>
Date: Sun, 20 Mar 2405 14:02:20 -0500 (ET)
X-Sender: durandal@localhost.localdomain
To: "Janice Barlow" <jbarlow@wpi.k12>
Subject: preliminary

DURAN#AL_1707

***I@COMI```_~SSAGE f_^4O D$|AND$L**@`


I und%rstand from your file that you're from Ragol Co(ony, and a
l}censed Hunter in your s?are time.  Remarkable what s%me people will
choose as h!bbies, but that's neither h6re nor ther&.  What's
imp#rtant to me is what that means you po_sess: powerf\l weapons,
sturdy arm*r, and a certain h%althful disregard for c=nstituted
author)ties.

I may have ne$d of all those things f;irly soon, so keep y~ur calendar
open.

Yours in Kalidor,
(and boy, it's d&rk in here)
Durandal

!````~TXlcar
<Transmission Error>

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Yt-c469d02l;12
EOT

        "What the hell?" Janice muttered, scratching her head.

        Corwin paused by the door of his antique Griffon limousine,
wiped the last of the tears from his eyes, and said, "Oh boy.  Poor
Kate."
        "She's a sport," said Utena.  "What an outfit.  I can't
believe you actually got your aunt to make a new one."
        Corwin grinned.  "Aunt Bell probably thinks Kate -wanted- it.
It's a shame she wouldn't show us Aunt Urd's version, though."
        Utena gave him a skeptical look.  "That's your -sister- you're
talking about there, pal."
        Corwin shrugged.  "The look on her face when she opened the
package was worth it all by itself.  You should have seen Aunt Bell
when she was packing them.  'Er... Urd, dear... I don't think Kaitlyn
sleeps in that sort of thing.'  'Yeah, well, sleeping's not the
-point- of wearing -this- outfit to bed.  You're a married woman, Sis,
you ought to understand that.'  And then poor Bell got all red and
flustered.  I thought Mom was going to laugh until she passed out."
He shook his head, chuckling.  "I don't think Aunt Bell's ready for us
kids to grow up.  Luckily, she's got a few years before Mirai's dating
age; Hiroshi's socially hopeless."
        "Not a very nice thing to say about your favorite cousin,"
Utena chided him.
        Another shrug.  "It's the truth.  He's worse with girls'n -I-
am, and you of all people ought to know what -that- means... "
        Utena laughed lightly and whacked him on the shoulder; then,
becoming serious, she let her hand rest there and asked him, "You
going to be OK?"
        "Yeah, I'll be fine," he replied.  Tentatively, he raised his
own hand and covered hers on his shoulder with it; then he smiled, a
mixture of pain and light in his clear blue eyes, and said, "Listen...
thanks.  I don't know what I... well... I... I just feel really
lucky... that you're my friend and all."
        Utena smiled fondly and pulled him into a hug.  "So do I," she
murmured, rubbing her hands up and down his back.  "So do I."
        They separated after a few seconds, and Corwin got into his
car with only a slight air of reluctance.
        "Have a safe flight," Utena told him, leaning into the window.
"Say hi to Nall for me, if he's speaking to you."
        "He usually has a fit when I run off and leave him by
himself," Corwin acknowledged, "but I think this time he'll
understand."
        "I hope so."  Utena looked as if she might have something
else to say, if she could only think of it; apparently failing, she
tapped the palm of her hand ineffectually against the window coaming.
Then, with impulsive quickness, she ducked her head, leaned inside,
and kissed his cheek.
        "Clear skies, Corwin," she said, smiling, as she backed out
again.
        >Walk in glory, my beloved,< Corwin replied in Old Norse, then
drove away, secure in the knowledge that she had no idea what he'd
just said.
        Utena watched him go, then turned and went inside, humming.

        Kaitlyn was still wearing it when she got back to Morgan 412,
which made Utena laugh again as she entered.
        "Show's over," she said, "you can take it off now."
        Kaitlyn was dressed like a tiger.  Not just wearing a
tiger-striped garment; she did that every day, her three identical
sets of pajamas were all patterned like the great cats.  No, this was
different; this garment was actually made to look -like a tiger-, or
at least a rather cartoony stuffed-animal version of one.  It was
complete with a white "underbelly", paws, a tail, and a hood which was
surmounted by ears, button eyes and a whiskery muzzle.  Corwin's Aunt
Belldandy had made the first such sleeper for Kaitlyn when she was a
little girl of ten; now, six critical years later, she'd scaled the
design up and made it again.
        It had much the same effect on sixteen-year-old Kate as it had
had on ten-year-old Kate, which was to say it was utterly adorable,
and though Kate had submitted to Corwin's demand that she wear it
before he left with a show of reluctance, she was really quite pleased
with it, in a silly, nostalgic sort of way.  Anyway, it was
comfortable - warm, soft and fuzzy.  She climbed up into her bunk and
sprawled out, one more tiger among the tigers.
        "I'm k-keeping it on," she replied.  "I'm n-n-not g-going out
ag-gain today.  It's a s-s-sleeper.  I'll s-sleep in it."
        Utena chuckled and lay down on her own bed to do some reading
for her required foreign-language course.  QumwI'wIj vItu'IaHbe', qaH... 
        Up in her bunk, Kate leafed through the stack of birthday
cards again, taking another look at them before she hauled out her
Vulcan dictionary and translated Professor Stuvek's card.  It was a
good assortment, some direct, some funny, none of them particularly
schmaltzy.  One of them was a bit of a puzzle, though.  It was a
simple one, white envelope, white card, plain block printing:
"Thinking of You on Your Birthday".  The inside was devoid of
preprinted notions, but bore a handwritten note written by a hand she
didn't recognize.

Ms. Broadbank really ought to know better than to leave her father's
credit card number taped to her workstation.  I was going to
short-sheet her bed, but then I thought you'd better appreciate Liza
going absolutely spare when she recieves the hundredweight box of
Tribble Chow 'she' ordered.

Not as spare as her father when he gets the bill, though.

Happy Birthday, Ms. Hutchins.

        Kate regarded it for a few more moments, trying to decide who
it was from, then shrugged, put it back in its envelope, and climbed
down to seek out her Vulcan dictionary.  If it was true, she certainly
-was- looking forward to that.

        "Why didn't I see you in the Wedge for Kate Hutchins's
birthday party?" G'Kron asked his roommate, who as usual was immersed
in his advanced physics textbook.
        "Was that today?" Mac mumbled, scribbling something on a
notepad as he stared intently at one particular equation.
        "Of course it was today!" G'Kron shouted.  "She returned from
Paris this morning, classes resume tomorrow - when else would it have
been?"
        "Oh," Mac muttered.  "Sorry I missed it.  I did send her a
birthday card, though."
        "Well, that's good, anyway."  G'Kron nodded, turning his
attention to matters more worthy of his righteous fury.

        Tuesday was a beautiful spring day in Worcester (yes, you read
that right).  Utena Tenjou had just escaped early from her last
morning class, the staggeringly boring except when mind-bendingly
difficult Calculus I (part 4, the revenge continues), and was enjoying
a few moments of freedom in the Wedge before lunchtime.  Several of
her friends were assembled in Wedge Booth #1, waiting for the Morgan
Hall dining commons to open its doors, and she was standing by the end
of the bench, telling them about the somewhat unfortunate chain of
events that had caused Professor Farr to call off the class in the
first place.
        "... so by now," she said, "he's been working his way around
the blackboards in the -whole room-, right - he's on the fourth wall
and almost to the end of that one - when suddenly he stops with this
perplexed look on his face and says - oof!"
        "Oof" was not, in fact, what Professor Farr had said upon
realizing that he had made, somewhere back on the first of his
classroom's four blackboard-covered walls, a computational error that
had invalidated everything else he had spent most of the class period
writing on the walls.  The sound he had made was rather more like
"Hrmph."  "Hrmph," however, was not the kind of sound that Utena
Tenjou made when someone yelled her name and jumped on her back.  She
was a strong, sturdy girl, tall for her age and athletic, so she kept
her feet, but with such a burden so suddenly imposed, she said "Oof."
        Then she scowled a little and started to say, "Azalynn, do you
mind?" before realizing that she was, in fact, -looking at Azalynn
dv'Ir Natashkan right now-, which made it somewhat impossible for the
Dantrovian girl to be on her back as well.
        So she scanned her mental files for some more appropriate
interjection, and fell back on the old standby, "What the hell?!"
        "Utena, my love!" said a voice in her ear.  This voice was so
unexpected that despite its extreme familiarity, it took her several
seconds to place it, by which time it had gone on to coo, "I've come
back to you at last," as its owner nuzzled the side of Utena's neck.
        Utena whirled, which didn't do much good given that her
interlocutor was hanging on her back like a koala on a tree, arms
around her neck, legs around her waist.  It was a very familiar weight
she felt, in terms of size, distribution, and general contour, except
for the hard something jabbing her back a bit outboard of her left
kidney.  It was heavier and a bit more substantial area-wise than
Azalynn, the only one of her friends in this world who she figured
would jump on her back under normal circumstances.  That and the voice
left her only one conclusion, impossible though it was to verify
visually at the moment:
        "WAKABA?!"
        The weight disappeared, and Utena felt herself spun around
again, this time to face her "attacker".  It was indeed her old friend
Wakaba Shinohara, reddish-brown eyes, onion-shaped chestnut hairdo,
and all, grinning from ear to ear.  Utena looked her up and down in an
instant, taking her in from head to foot, and then sprang back out of
sheer instinct, uttering a sound of surprise and consternation.  She
had only seen Wakaba dressed like this - in a double-breasted, brass-
buttoned jacket and snug white trousers - once before, and on that
day, the girl had been out of her freaking -mind-.  She noticed in her
second, longer look that Wakaba was carrying a sword, too, a katana,
thrust through the brown leather belt of her trousers; it was that,
then, which had been poking Utena in the back.  Her left hand dropped
reflexively to the hilt of her own blade.
        "Aw, -no-," said Utena, her voice a mixture of unpleasant
surprise and suspicion.  "What are -you- doing here?"
        Wakaba's grin disintegrated, replaced by an irritated scowl.
She put her hands on her hips, glared at Utena, and replied, "'Aw,
no'?  'AW, NO'?  I nearly get my cute little hide punctured for love
of you, I come all the way to... to wherever the hell we are, just to
see if you're safe, and all -you- can say is 'Aw, no'?  Well, if that
doesn't just beat everything."  She folded her arms.  "So much for
five years of friendship, I guess."
        Utena blinked.  "Wait a second," she said.  She relaxed from
her defensive posture, stepped back toward her friend, and said, "You
mean you're not... you came here on purpose?"
        "Duh?" Wakaba replied, looking irked.  "I didn't just trip and
fall into a rift in the fabric of space and time.  Hello!"
        "But... but... "  Utena stared at her in mingled amazement and
bafflement.  "Then how did you get here?"
        "The midget sent me," Wakaba said, "to see if you're OK.
Which, obviously, you are."  The auburn-haired girl looked Utena up
and down, a slow, appraising scan, and then smiled, raising an
eyebrow.  "Interesting look.  I see you're still on that 'out-guy the
guys' thing."  She leaned nearer and poked her friend with an elbow,
murmuring, "-Love- the tie."
        Utena took a step back, looking a little embarrassed, and then
discarded that embarrassment and her lingering startlement at Wakaba's
sudden appearance, throwing her arms around her oldest friend in a
powerful hug.
        "Now -that's- more like it!" said Wakaba smugly as she
returned the embrace.
        "Sorry," said Utena, looking a little sheepish, as she and
Wakaba released each other.  "I was - well, it's a long story - I'll
tell you later.  C'mon and meet everybody."  She indicated the
inhabitants of the booth, who had all risen to their feet.  "This is
Moose... "
        The gigantic, rather ugly, utterly bald, ebony-skinned fellow
bowed and rumbled in a tremendous basso voice, "The Honourable
J. Maurice MacEchearn the Fourth, milady, at your service."
        The little copper-skinned girl next to him, not waiting to be
introduced, jumped right up on the table in the middle of the booth,
which made her about a head taller than Wakaba.  She stuck out a slim
three-fingered hand - not maimed, Wakaba noted, perfectly whole, as if
it lacked a pinky by design - and said cheerfully,
        "Hi!  I'm Azalynn.  You must be Wakaba.  Miki told me about
you, but I have to say he downplayed how -cute- you are."
        "Uh... thanks," said Wakaba.
        "No problem," said Azalynn.  She let go of Wakaba's hand,
hopped back to her place in the booth, and winked, grinning.
        The blue lizard-guy had the most complicated name Wakaba had
ever heard, which fled her memory as soon as it was pronounced;
fortunately, he also had an easy-to-remember nickname, "Sky", for
which Wakaba was profoundly grateful.  He seemed like a friendly
enough guy, for a blue lizard.
        The blond guy seemed a little taken aback, but greeted Wakaba
quite cordially and informed her that his name was either Carter
Devlin or Devlin Carter, and further that she could take her pick, as
it didn't matter.  He seemed a little distracted about something.
        Finally, Utena came to the brown-haired girl with glasses, who
stood looking pleasant, expectant, and a trifle apprehensive.
        "... And this, this is Kaitlyn Hutchins," said Utena, putting
her hand on the girl's shoulder.  "My roommate and... "  She suddenly
hesitated, looking a bit worried, and her voice trailed off
ineffectually.
        Wakaba smiled knowingly, hit her gently on the shoulder, and
said softly, "'s OK, I've got a higher calling nowadays."  She put out
her hand in Kaitlyn's direction.  "Nice to meet you.  I'm Wakaba
Shinohara, Lady Utena's bodyguard."
        "WHAT?!" Utena blurted.
        "P-p-p-pleased t-t-to m-m-m-m-meet you," said Kate, shaking
her hand and showing a blend of amusement and embarrassment.
        "What's this about my bodyguard?" Utena demanded.
        "Later, later," said Wakaba, waving her casually off.  "Right
now I'm freakin' starving.  It's something like ten at night for me
right now, and I haven't had anything to eat since dinner except a
lemon ice, -and- I had to fight my first ever swordfight - which I
won, by the way - without even a lousy bag of corn chips or anything."
She ended this little dissertation, looked around, and spotted the
entrance to the Grille.  "Aha!  Just what the doctor ordered.  I'll be
right back."
        "Um, Wakaba," said Utena as Wakaba strode jauntily toward the
snack bar, but Wakaba wasn't listening.  "... Damn!" Utena muttered,
and went after her as Kaitlyn giggled into her hand.

        Kyouichi Saionji was, as was common for the hour before lunch,
bored.  He'd agreed to take the 11-12 hour even on the days when he
had morning classes because his last morning class ended at 10:45,
because he needed the money and didn't mind the work, and because it
put him in close proximity to the Wedge and Morgan DAKA when the time
came to meet the others for lunch... but God, it was a dull hour to be
working in the snack bar.  No one came in.  No one wanted anything.
Nothing happened.  Not that anything really interesting ever happened
at Mini-DAKA, but at least somebody wanting some food would have been
a nice change of pace.
        He was rearranging the snack cakes on their wire rack near the
soda fountain when he heard somebody entering the room behind him.
Brightening at the idea of a customer to break up the monotony, he
turned around with his very best customer-service smile on his face
and said,
        "Hello, may I help OOOOFF!!"
        "OOOOFF!!" was not, in fact, the last word in the prescribed
Mini-DAKA customer greeting; what he was supposed to have said was
"you".  However, he found that very hard to say with a fist buried in
his solar plexus, so he settled for "OOOOFF!!" while crumpling to his
hands and knees on the linoleum-tile floor and struggling to remember
how to breathe.
        He raised himself upright on his knees, blinking tears of pain
and surprise out of his eyes and trying to focus on his assailant,
when she - he hoped it was a she - took hold of the sides of his lean
face and pressed her lips to his in a warm kiss, as thoroughly unlike
the punch in the gut she'd opened with as it was possible to get and
still be two acts of the same person.
        After maybe ten seconds of a smooch that would have been most
satisfactory except for the part about Saionji still not being able to
breathe, she released him and stepped back, hands clasped behind her
back, to grin at him.
        "Hi, Kyouichi," she said cheerfully.  "How've you been?"
        Saionji hauled in a breath and blinked furiously for several
seconds.  Then he dragged himself to his feet, arranged his rumpled
uniform, felt gingerly at the tender spot where she'd slugged him, and
managed to mumble,
        "Er... hello, Wakaba."  He looked past her to see Utena
standing in the doorway, looking somewhere between horrified and
entertained.  He guessed she'd been just far enough behind Wakaba to
see the whole thing.  "I'm... bruised," he added lamely.
        "Good.  You earned it," Wakaba told him, still smiling.  "I'm
fine, thanks for asking.  The Deputy Chairman sends his love."
        Saionji cocked an eyebrow.
        "Well, OK, not really," Wakaba admitted.
        Saionji looked relieved.
        "Do you want something to eat," he asked dryly, "or did you
just come in here to molest me?"
        "No, I came in here 'cause I'm hungry," said Wakaba.
"Molesting you was an unexpected bonus.  Get me a cheeseburger,
willya?  Lady Utena's buying."
        Saionji smiled as he went behind the counter.  "Been a while
since anybody's called you that, Tenjou," he observed.
        "No kidding," Utena said.
        "The midget called you the Knight of the Rose," Wakaba told
her, leaning against the sneeze guards over the condiment racks to
watch Saionji cook her lunch.  "Nice sword, by the way.  You carry
that around everywhere you go?  Is that legal?"
        Utena nodded.  "I'm in a club that - Knight of what?"
        "The Rose," said Wakaba.  "Don't ask me, I'm just telling you
what he told me.  And I'm not gonna call you 'Sir Utena', even if you
-are- still dressing like a guy."
        "Thanks," said Utena wryly.
        "Shinohara," said Saionji.
        "Yes, Saionji?"
        "Fries?"
        "Huh?"
        Saionji turned around, holding up a bag of frozen French
fries.  "Please don't make me ask the whole question," he said.  "The
cliche might kill me after that punch you gave me."
        Wakaba laughed.  "Sure," she said.  "What happened to -him-?"
she asked Utena as he turned to put some fries into the Frialator for
her.
        "Long story," said Utena.
        "Seems like we've both got a few of those to tell."
        "Mm-hmm.  I guess I'm gonna miss my afternoon classes."

        Utena did miss her afternoon classes, secure in the knowledge
that Miki Kaoru was taking notes so exhaustive that going over them
with him would be every bit as good as being there.  She gave Wakaba a
guided tour of the WPI campus and its environs instead.  As they
walked the two girls talked, trading facts until finally, as they
watched the sun set over Worcester from the retaining wall of the
little parking lot in front of Bancroft Tower, each felt fairly
confident that the other was fully caught up.
        It was kind of a strange experience for Utena to bring Wakaba
up to date, stranger than doing so for Kaitlyn, because for a lot of
the important events before Utena's departure from Cephiro, Wakaba had
been -around-, she just hadn't -noticed-.  The look of dawning horror
on Wakaba's face, as the context around various things she'd witnessed
was filled in, was almost as unnerving as filling in that context in
the first place.  Utena felt quite shaken by the time she'd finished.
        For a moment, she and Wakaba both sat silent, looking out at
the lights of Worcester as they came on in the gathering night; then
Wakaba moved a little closer, put her arm around Utena's shoulders,
and said quietly,
        "I'm sorry, Utena.  I wish I'd been paying better attention.
If I hadn't been so wrapped up in my own little world... maybe I could
have done something to help."  She shivered.  "God.  That's why that
picture made me feel so sad.  It's like somehow I -knew-, but I didn't
-want- to... "
        Utena slipped her own arm around Wakaba and hugged her a
little. "'sOK," she murmured.  "There was no way you could have known.
That was the whole point, for everything to look normal from the
outside... "  She sighed, a long, shuddery sigh, shed a single tear,
and then said, "I'm just glad you got out in time."  She chuckled
bitterly.  "Wised up quicker than I did."
        "I had help," said Wakaba.  "Nobody helped you.  Nobody at
all.  Not even Himemiya.  I don't understand that, if everything else
you say is true... "
        Utena shook her head.  "Don't blame Himemiya.  She... she
thought it was what I wanted.  Hell, so did I, kind of.  She...  well,
perspective wasn't her strong suit at the time.  I don't think she
was... quite all -there-... until the very, very end... "
        They sat in silence for several minutes, until the darkness of
night was fully settled over Worcester.
        "Let's talk about something nicer," said Wakaba.
        "Sure," Utena replied with a weak but brave laugh.  "OK."
        "Your roommate, Kaitlyn... you must've been an almighty mess
when you first got here.  She pulled you through it, didn't she?"
        Utena nodded.  "Absolutely," she said, unhesitatingly.  "I owe
Zoner a lot for getting me set up, but without Kate I'd have been
doomed.  I'd never have made it to Christmas.  Literally.  She saved
my life.  She's... she's been the best friend I could have hoped for.
I... I'm sorry."
        Wakaba gave her friend another squeeze as Utena threatened to
become morose anew with guilt.  "It's OK," she said.  "Really.  Don't
be sorry.  I understand a lot of things better than I did the last
time."  She chuckled, gave Utena a little shake, and said, "I won't go
nuts and try to kill her, I promise."
        That drew another laugh, if a bit weak, from Utena.  "Well,
that's a relief," she said with a wan grin.
        "So," said Wakaba, briskly changing the subject again, "tell
me what happened to Saionji."
        The laugh was stronger this time.  "He got laid."
        "WHAT?!"  Wakaba slid sideways a bit, out of Utena's embrace,
and glowered at her in the dark, hands on hips again.
        Utena rubbed at the back of her neck, grinning wryly, and
said, "Well, it's true.  There's more to it than that, but I wanted to
hear you go 'WHAT?!', so I had to oversimplify it."
        "Explain," said Wakaba sternly, so Utena gave it the old
Worcester Prep try.
        "... so it wasn't -just- that he got laid," she finished, "but
that was part of it."
        "... And now she's seeing Miki," Wakaba mused.  "That's...
ow.  I don't think I can get my head around that part.   Ow."
        "You'll get used to her," said Utena; then she added under her
breath, "(Or you'll have a psychotic episode.)"
        Wakaba chuckled.  "She sounds... interesting.  However she did
it, I'm glad she was able to help him get over being such a bastard."
She laughed again, more of a giggle this time, and added, "If I'd
known that was all it'd take, I'd have jumped him myself when he lived
with me."
        "I'm, uh, not sure that would have been such a good idea, at
the time," Utena said.
        "I know, I'm just making a dumb joke.  If you can't laugh at
your past it'll screw up your future - that's my new philosophy,"
Wakaba declared with a firm nod.
        Utena considered that, then smiled.  "I like that," she said,
and they laughed at their pasts together for a moment.
        When they'd finished that, Wakaba looked momentarily
thoughtful, then said, "So if she dumped him, he's not seeing anybody
right now?"
        "She didn't really 'dump' him, they were never 'together' in
the first place," said Utena.
        "Whatever," said Wakaba.  "Is he or isn't he?"
        "No," said Utena.  "Why?  You're not seriously thinking of
going after him again, are you?"
        "Maybe," replied Wakaba coyly.  "You said yourself he's not a
total creep anymore."
        "Well, yeah, I guess, but...  I dunno, I just can't see it."
        "Well, I can't see you marrying Himemiya, either, so I guess
we're even.  You know I was -kidding- all those times I called you my
boyfriend."
        Utena looked a bit sheepish again.  "I told you it's
complicated."
        "I know, I know," Wakaba said with a laugh.  She turned,
hopped down from the wall, and clapped her old friend on the shoulder.
"I just like yanking your chain, that's all.  Say," she went on as
Utena jumped down and the two of them set off back down Bancroft Hill.
"If you don't think I should go after Saionji, what about that Corwin
guy?  He sounds nice, and if you're taken... "
        "Wakaba," said Utena testily.
        "Kidding," Wakaba repeated.  "Sheesh, lighten up.  I haven't
even -met- the guy yet.  Does he seriously -own- Arisugawa's roommate?"

        Wakaba spent the evening in Morgan 412, leafing through
Kaitlyn and Utena's photo albums and laughing at the funnier pictures
(Saionji and the two moose at the Toronto Zoo, for instance).
        "Yeah... Saionji was really into the whole moose thing," said
Utena, grinning.  "He's got a whole album that's just full of pictures
of the Toronto moose.  I wouldn't be surprised if he managed to get
'em all over the course of the week."
        Wakaba chuckled and turned the page.  The first picture on the
next page was of Utena and a black-haired, decent-looking guy about
Miki's age; they were both dressed in jumpsuits emblazoned with
"NITMCC" and covered in brightly-colored patches advertising various
motorsports-related products, and had helmets tucked under their arms.
They were standing in front of a squarish little red-and-white car,
which matched their jumpsuits in markings and coloration, and both
were grinning cheerily and making V-for-victory gestures at the
camera.
        "Who's this?" Wakaba wondered, pointing.  She was lying on the
floor next to the bunk beds, propped up on her elbows, feet kicking
aimlessly in the air, as she perused the albums.
        Utena leaned over from where she sat on her bed studying for
tomorrow's Introductory Klingonese IV test and said, "That's Corwin.
That's his uncle's Evo-3X in the background.  Lessee... yeah, that was
taken on Monday morning, right before we started.  You can see the
car's not dirty yet."  Or dented, she didn't add aloud.
        "Huh.  Not a bad-looking guy," Wakaba mused.  "He's a little
young for you, but he'll grow out of that."
        "Will you quit it?" Utena asked irritably.  "We're not
dating or anything.  We're just friends."
        "Sure," said Wakaba, dropping it.  "Who's this here?"
        "Huh?  Oh, that's Corwin's Uncle Keiichi.  He's an engineering
professor at Nekomi Tech.  Faculty advisor of the Motor Club."
        "No way!  That guy's a college professor?  He's maybe
Saionji's age."
        "Actually, he's something like 300 years old," Utena told
her.  "Something to do with his wife.  He's married to a Norse
goddess."
        Wakaba gave her a very skeptical look.
        "No, I swear, it's true.  This is a really weird world,
Wakaba, but it's got lots of cool stuff in it.  Corwin's aunt is the
Norse goddess of fidelity.  His mother's the goddess of technology."
        "Uh... huh.  And what does that make him the god of?"
        "Nothing yet," Utena replied.  "He has to take some kind of a
test to get a spot in the pantheon, and he's not old enough yet or
something."
        "Are you serious, or is this some kind of mess-with-Wakaba's-head 
thing?"
        "Cross my heart and hope to die," said Utena.  "Isn't it all
true, Kate?"
        "Mm-hmm," said Kaitlyn absently from her desk, where she was
perusing something on the Web.
        "So... if Corwin's your brother," said Wakaba slowly, pointing
to Kate, "and his mother's a goddess, then... "
        "No," said Utena, "it's a little more complicated than
that.  Look, give me the - Kate, where's the album for last Christmas?
That's got the group shot in it... "

        At 10, having digested the complexities of Kaitlyn's clan,
Wakaba announced that she ought to be leaving the roommates to their
beauty rest.  She waved off their offer of temporary lodgings,
informing them that she had "an angle" and would most likely see them
at breakfast in the morning.  A hug and a kiss on the cheek for Utena,
a grin and a handshake for Kate, and she was off, whistling merrily to
herself as she trotted down the hallway toward the stairs.  At the
stairway door she turned, waved cheerfully, then disappeared.
        "Sh-she's t-t-taking it w-well," Kate observed as she and
Utena re-entered Morgan 412.
        Utena nodded.  "Deep down, Wakaba's always been pretty
centered.  She also had the advantage that she -knew- she was coming
here.  She didn't have all that much advance notice, but at least she
didn't go to bed one night and wake up in another world.  Still, I'm
gonna keep an eye on her for a little while.  Sometimes she's so
cheerful it's hard to tell what she's really feeling."
        Kate nodded, a thoughtful look on her face, and then went to
her bureau and got out a set of pajamas.  Utena stood by the foot of
the bunk beds with a pensive frown while Kate changed into the pajama
pants, then pulled the body of her Beauxbatons Academy sweatshirt over
her head.
        "Um... Kate?" Utena asked quietly.
        "Mm?" Kaitlyn replied, glancing back over her shoulder, her
arms still in the sweatshirt's sleeves.
        "Are you... mad at me?"
        Kate looked puzzled, finished changing into her pajama top,
and said, "N-no... why?"
        "Well, when I was introducing you to Wakaba, I kind of... 
stumbled.  I was afraid maybe you thought I was... I dunno... ashamed
that you're my best friend or something.  It's just that Wakaba was,
for a long time, and I didn't want to hurt -her- feelings... but I
hadn't thought it all the way through before I got to that part,
and... you haven't said much since then, and... "
        Kate shook her head.  "Oh, n-no.  I f-f-figured it w-was
something l-like that.  I h-hope she d-d-doesn't r-resent me."  She
buttoned her pajamas, looking a bit sheepish and a bit sad as she went
on, "I've b-b-been k-keeping quiet - well, q-quieter than usual -
f-for fear that sh-she w-w-would.  Th-there was that t-time you
t-t-told me about... "
        Utena smiled in relief.  "Oh.  Phew!  Well, don't worry about
that.  She... she's really grown, since then.  I'll say this for
Ohtori Academy," she added with a bitter-flavored wryness.  "If you
survive, it makes you stronger."
        Kate grinned a little and said, "M-m-maybe sh-she and I should
d-duel for you."
        Utena's face tightened slightly.  She looked Kaitlyn in the
eye and told her seriously, "Kate, you'll never have to fight for my
friendship."
        Kate nodded solemnly, dropping the joke in an instant, and
said, "I kn-know."
        Utena, still looking uncommonly pensive, went to her own
bureau and changed into her own pajamas; then she switched off the
overhead light and crossed back to the stack of beds.  Kaitlyn,
standing next to the ladder up to her top bunk, was silhouetted by the
glow of the Quad lights through the blinds on the windows behind her.
She took off her glasses and put them on top of her bureau; as she
moved to mount the ladder, Utena put out a hand and placed it on her
shoulder, stopping her.
        Kate made an inquisitive noise, stepping off the bottom rung
and turning to face her roommate, and Utena gathered her up in a hug
that had an edge of something like desperation in it.
        "Wakaba and I caught each other up," she explained quietly.
"Which means I had to tell her about... well, everything.  It... it
doesn't get any easier to talk about... does it?"
        Kate put her arms around her roommate, patted her back, and
murmured, "N-no.  No, it d-d-doesn't."  She held on for a moment, then
asked, "Are you g-going to be O-k-k-K?"
        "I think so," Utena replied; then she chuckled wryly, released
her roommate, and added, "These damn beds are too narrow, anyway."
        Kate recognized a brave face when she saw one.  She smiled a
little, climbed partway up the ladder, rummaged around on her bunk,
and, descending, pressed a fuzzy something into Utena's arms.
        "J-just in c-c-case," she said.
        Utena ran a hand over the item she'd been handed, feeling
threadbare terry fur, yarn whiskers and button eyes, and smiled.  It
wasn't just anybody Kate would entrust with her beloved childhood
companion, Seven the tiger.
        "Thanks," she whispered, with total sincerity.  Kate smiled,
patted her shoulder, and climbed up into her bunk.
        "G-g'night, Utena," she said.
        "G'night, Kate," Utena replied, tucking herself in with
Seven.
        "S-say... " Kate murmured after a few seconds of silence.
        "Uh?" said Utena, who was already partway to dreamland.
        "I w-w-wonder what W-Wakaba's a-angle is... "

        Kyouichi Saionji lay on his bed in Institute Hall's room 301,
a small but comfortable single room at the front corner of the
building, reading a large, bright green book and thinking about going
to sleep pretty soon.  Wednesday was lab day, and as he wasn't taking
any lab sciences this term, that meant he got to work the full morning
shift at Mini-DAKA.  It wasn't much of a job, but it paid for things.
        Saionji didn't resent not having been handed comfortable
means, like Utena or Miki, or outright wealth, like Juri, upon his
arrival in this world.  He'd been offered either, in fact, by Edward
Tivrusky and by Kaitlyn's family via Utena, but he'd passed them up.
After years of feeling beholden to the Deputy Chairman, the Academy
Trustees, and Touga, he was enjoying his newly won independence too
much to accept those offers, even though he was certain they were
offered in a different spirit.
        Besides, he rather enjoyed the irony involved in cooking Utena
Tenjou's breakfast almost every morning.
        He yawned, marked his place in the big green book, and put it
on his nightstand, then got up and took off his shirt.  Bedtime.
Tomorrow, he could - 
        A knock at the door?  At 10:20 in the evening?  Who could
-that- be?  If it was the Campus Crusade for Kalidor, they were going
to get a very stern talking-to.
        He went and opened the door, fully prepared to bawl out a
grinning twosome in plus-fours, and instead found himself faced with a
uniformed girl carrying a sword.
        Saionji blinked.
        "Er," he said.  "Good evening, Shinohara... "
        "Evening, Saionji," said Wakaba as she brushed past him into
the room.  "How are things?"
        "Um... fine," he said, perplexed, as he closed the door behind
him.  "Is there, er, something I can do for you?  It's almost
ten-thirty, and - "
        "Yeah, I know," Wakaba told him.  She noticed the big green
book and asked, "What'cha reading?"
        "It's the maintenance manual for my motorcycle," he said.
        Wakaba raised an eyebrow.  "You have a motorcycle?"
        "I bought it last week," Saionji replied.  "Tenjou and
Kaitlyn's brother Corwin helped me get it running over the weekend."
        Wakaba looked mildly impressed.  "Cool," she said.  "Listen, I
need a place to crash.  Sound familiar?"
        Saionji stared at her for a second, then snickered, the corner
of his mouth tugging up into a little grin despite himself.
        "Very familiar," he said.  Then he went to the closet, pulled
out the spare blankets and pillow that Corwin Ravenhair generally used
when -he- stayed here, and arranged them in the usual spot on the
floor.
        "You're not actually going to be chivalrous enough to offer to
sleep there and let me have the bed, are you?" asked Wakaba
skeptically.
        Saionji smiled a little more fully and said, "No."
        "Good," said Wakaba.  She took off her shoes, put them in the
corner next to his, took her sword out of her belt, and laid it on the
floor next to her makeshift bed.
        "Where did you get that?" Saionji wondered.
        "Present from the Deputy Chairman," she replied, unfastening
the collar of her jacket.  "You may be pleased to learn that I
proceeded to whip up on his butt with it... "  She paused, looked
perplexed, and then raised an eyebrow and went on as if she couldn't
really believe it, "This morning, your time.  Man, no wonder I'm
tired.  I've been up for almost 24 hours."  She yawned, stretching,
and took the ribbon out of her hair.
        Saionji stood by the door with his arms folded across his
chest, smiling at the rare sight of Wakaba with her hair out of its
customary onion style, and asked,
        "Aren't you going to point threateningly at it and warn me not
to get any funny ideas?"
        "Nope," said Wakaba, unbuttoning the rest of her jacket.
"Funny thing, isn't it?"  She regarded him with steady eyes and said,
"You were a bastard to me.  You hurt me.  You betrayed me.  You broke
my heart on purpose, just to get back into the Academy."
        Saionji looked back at her gravely and nodded.  "I did all
that," he said softly.  "I don't deny it."
        "But even so, you never did the one thing that would have made
it hardest to bear," Wakaba went on.  "Even when you were living with
me, when I was practically throwing myself at you, you never took
advantage of that.  You could have had me so easily.  You could have
made me another conquest, a notch on your gunbelt, and you didn't."
        "That was always Touga's style," said Saionji softly, "not
mine."
        Wakaba nodded.  "Maybe it's because of that.  Maybe it's
because of all I've been through in the last few weeks, how close I
came to becoming a notch on somebody else's gunbelt today.  Maybe now
that I've really seen the ugliness inside that kind of person, I can
appreciate the grace you had to leave me my pride even when you knew
you were going to break my heart.  I don't know... but I feel safe
here.  I don't feel like I have to sleep with one eye open."
        "Thank you," said Saionji, but Wakaba held up a hand and
silenced him, still thinking.
        She stood in thought for a moment more, then went on in a
quiet voice, "I don't know that I've forgiven you, Kyouichi.  I don't
know if I ever can, completely - but I think I can learn to trust you
again.  I think I can be your friend, and let you be mine, if you want
that."
        Saionji smiled.
        "I'd like that," he said.  "I'd like that very much."
        Then he flicked off the light, plunging the room into
blackness.
        "Good night, Shinohara," he said, climbing into bed.  He heard
the clinking and rustling as she took off the rest of her uniform and
folded it beside her makeshift bunk, then crawled into the blankets
and arranged herself.
        "Good night, Saionji," she said.

        Wakaba spent the next day lounging around the Wedge reading
Miki's updated copy of "So You've Just Arrived from a Parallel
Dimension".  The night before, during the perusal of the photo albums,
Utena and Kate had gathered some personal statistics from her (taking
a moment to work out her birthdate on Earth's calendar, which wasn't
very hard), and at lunchtime, she found out what for.  Kate's father,
a pleasant and youthful-looking fellow who Wakaba was given to
understand was some kind of galactic policeman or some such, stopped
by and gave her a folder full of useful documents - passport, driver's
license, Psi Corps null-certification card, bankcard from the WDF
Credit Union, and so forth.
        When Kaitlyn and Utena were done with their classes for the
day, they took her down to the Worcester Galleria to do a spot of
clothes shopping, since, like all the rest, she had only the clothes
she'd arrived wearing, and that would never do.
        It was much too late in the school year for Wakaba to enroll
as a student at the Worcester Preparatory Institute; this was the
second of D term's eight weeks, after which the academic year would be
over.  She did, however, meet with Dean of Students Claudia Montaigne
on Wendesday, and tested (with the help of an all-night cram session
with Miki Kaoru) into the Class of 2407 for the following year.  In
order to get acclimated, she was given permission to audit Utena's
classes for the remainder of D-term, but would receive no credit for
them because of her late start.
        Friday came, and after the end of the day's classes the Art of
Noise, grinning with anticipation of the year's last show at Sneaky
Dee's, packed their things aboard Moose MacEchearn's battered
ex-school bus, euphemistically termed "the van".
        Over dinner at Table 11, the band gathered to talk over the
playlist and discuss their itinerary for the next day.
        "M-Miki, you'll b-be running the b-board for us ag-gain?"
Kaitlyn inquired.
        Miki stopped his watch and nodded.  "Although," he pointed
out, "if you want me to help you with that one song, it'll have to
fend for itself for a little while... "
        "How's Edward's little project coming along?" Utena wondered.
"Have you heard anything from her lately?"
        "I got email from her about it the other day," said Azalynn.
"She says everything is going extremely well, but we shouldn't be
alarmed if some stuff sort of stops working sometime in the next week
or so."
        "Oh, -that's- reassuring," grumbled Moose.  "So... who have we
got going on this trip, anyway?  The five of us, Miki, Dorothy -
Utena, are you going?"
        "Of course," Utena replied.  With a tremendous effort, she
snapped an oatmeal-raisin cookie in half; then she eyed the
cross-section dubiously and put the pieces carefully in the far corner
of her tray.  "How would you guys get by without your beautiful and
talented road crew?" she asked with a grin.
        "I'd like to go too," said Wakaba.  "It sounds like fun."
        "Hmm," rumbled Moose.  "That's nine people... there aren't
enough seats for nine in the van, not comfortably, anyway... "
        "Kate has a car," Utena pointed out.
        "Mm," said Kaitlyn.  "I'd r-rather k-k-keep the b-band
tog-gether bef-fore the sh-show, though.  K-keeps us more...
c-connected, or someth-thing."  She smiled.  "You've g-got your
l-license n-now, though.  You c-could drive... so c-c-could Dorothy."
        "Well, if you're sure... "
        Kate nodded.  "You l-learned f-from some of the b-best," she
said, grinning.  "I th-think you c-c-can handle it."
        "OK, then," said Utena.
        "Shotgun!" Wakaba chirped cheerily.
        "I suppose I'll take the back, then," Dorothy said.  "If you
don't mind."
        "Not at all," said Utena.  "Kate, you'll have to write me a
note to bring her through Customs if you're not coming with us."
        Kate nodded.  "I'll d-do it after d-d-dinner," she said.

        The next morning they were off, the band and Miki in the bus
and the Beautiful and Talented Road Crew in Vlad the Impala.  It was a
beautiful spring day, continuing to show 2405's apparent determination
to start as nicely as possible, and the Crew hardly needed the
convertible's climate management field as they sped westward across
Massachusetts and upstate New York.  According to tradition, they all
stopped at Lakeside Farms in Ballston Lake for lunch and donuts.  They
had no trouble at Customs, and by six o'clock they were in Toronto.
This time they had no difficulties finding the club at the corner of
Bathurst and College.
        By seven-thirty, they were just about set up and the place was
just starting to fill.  Kaitlyn, standing on the darkened stage
fiddling with the settings of one of her several keyboards, glanced
out across the room.  It was funny how a place visited only two or
three times could become so familiar, if it was a place with fond
associations.  The Brasserie Dauphine in Paris was the same way.  This
slightly stuffy, wood-paneled room, its walls covered in hockey
memorabilia, with the bar at the far end and the broad, slightly
creaky hardwood floor, was almost like a familiar living room as she
regarded it from her usual playing position.
        She went around to the front of the keyboards, stepped over
the row of monitor speakers at the front of the stage, and looked down
into the small pit below, where Miki Kaoru was bent over the mixer
board.
        "How's it l-l-look?" she asked him.
        He looked up, pushing his headphones back from his ears, and
gave her a smiling thumbs-up.  "Pretty good.  I'll run a test during
sound check, but I'm fairly sure we'll be able to get a good recording
from this setup."
        Kate grinned.  "Good," she said.  "W-we haven't d-d-done a
live record... and I h-have a f-f-feeling about this sh-show."
        "Anything I can do to help?" a voice asked from the edge of
the dance floor, just behind and above Miki's head.  The blue-haired
engineer turned and looked up as Kate adjusted her own view to see the
speaker; then both blinked in surprise.
        "C-Corwin!" said Kate.  "What are y-you d-d-doing here?"
        Before Corwin Ravenhair could answer, he was spotted and asked
the same question by Utena, who trotted over from the merchandise
table she and Wakaba were setting up to grab him up in a hug and
ruffle his hair.  "Where's Nall?" she added as she released him.
        "Alfheim," Corwin replied.  "Business with the Draconian
Senate."
        "Oh.  That's too bad."
        "Yeah, he's a little miffed that they decided to call him in
-this- weekend," Corwin agreed.  "Says it's part of a grand conspiracy
to make him keep missing Canada.  Anyway," he went on, "as for what
I'm doing here, that ought to be obvious.  I didn't want to miss
this!"  He grinned at Kate and added with a wink, "I've got a feeling
about this show."
        Dorothy emerged from the access panel underneath the stage
where she'd been connecting cables, noticed Corwin, and jumped, calmly
and effortlessly, up out of the pit to land lightly in front of him.
        "Corwin," she said with a nod and a faint smile.
        "I was hoping you'd be here," he said, and gave her a hug,
then held her at arms' length to look her over, shaking his head and
tsking with a wry smile.
        "I saw the pictures from last time," he said, "but I didn't
quite believe it.  What an outfit."
        Dorothy, who was dressed and made up in the same Gothic style
as the last time she'd been to Sneaky Dee's, moved back a little and
twirled around, then deadpanned, "I think it's quite becoming."
        "I, uh... I won't dispute that," said Corwin.
        "Hey," said another girl, pushing her way past Utena.  "Do I
have to introduce -myself- around here?"
        Corwin regarded her with a look of mild surprise.  She was a
girl about Utena and Kate's age, slim and pretty, with auburn hair
done up in a style that looked a bit like an onion and eyes of
matching color.  She was dressed in jeans and an unbuttoned blue
Frostproof flannel over an Art of Noise t-shirt, and, he was slightly
jarred to note, wore a katana through her belt.  She didn't look
particularly combative, though, as she smiled at him and said,
        "Hi.  Wakaba Shinohara.  I used to go to school with Utena and
Miki.  You must be Corwin, the guy Utena's not dating."
        "Wakaba!" Utena exclaimed, but Corwin just smiled an easy
smile and replied,
        "Yup, that's me."  He bowed formally, sweeping an imaginary
hat from his head, and said, "Corwin the Raven-Haired of Avalon and
Asgard, at your service."
        Utena gave him a bemused look as he straightened up, but he
just grinned.
        "Well, nice meeting you, Corwin," said Wakaba, "but I gotta go
make sure nobody swipes the t-shirts.  Maybe I'll see you later."
        "Seems likely," said Corwin as she left the little group; then
he turned to Utena and said, "Lots of your old classmates finding
their way here... that's cool."
        "Yeah... I think Wakaba's the last one who's going to manage
it, though," she said, a bit wistfully.  Then she brushed it away and
went on briskly, "Did you come straight here?"
        "Yup.  My ship's parked over at YYZ."
        "YYZ?"
        "Spaceport code for Toronto."
        "Ah.  Well, c'mon and meet Dimitrios."

        Corwin duly met Dimitrios, and got his permission to join Miki
in the tech pit.  Once down there, he got the run-down on the layout
and settings, then was sworn in as Emergency Backup Engineer, just in
time for sound check.  Kaitlyn noodled about with her keyboards,
playing a couple of riffs not many people in the growing crowd
recognized; Azalynn and Amanda slammed a viciously catchy guitar hook
back and forth for a couple of minutes in a sort of sonic game of
Pong; the rest of the rhythm section fiddled, adjusted, tuned and
tapped while Miki and Corwin watched the gauges and twiddled the
knobs.
        They were just about done with that when something at the back
of the room, near the entrance, silenced the chattering crowd.  Noting
this, the band went quiet as well, all peering back to see what was
going on.
        "I d-d-don't b-believe it," Kate murmured, recognizing the
cause of the disturbance as that cause moved forward through the crowd
and emerged at the lip of the tech pit to smile up at her.
        Kyouichi Saionji and Juri Arisugawa stood at the edge of the
dance floor, dressed in outlandishly bulky leather jackets.  Saionji
had on insulated pants, too, heavy boots, and thick gloves; a scarf
and a pair of goggles hung on around his neck and his face was bright
red with chill everywhere they hadn't covered, making him look as if
he were wearing a mask.  Juri, who seemed to be dressed normally
except for the jacket, had fared a bit better, and looked a bit
ruffled but not particularly chilled.
        "Hello, Kaitlyn," she said.
        "W-w-what are YOU d-d-doing here?" Kate inquired, amazed.
        "I decided I didn't want to miss your performance," Juri
replied, "so I persuaded Saionji to bring me up when his shift ended."
        "You rode up here from Worcester on a -motorcycle-?" Azalynn
demanded.  "In -March-?  With no CMF?"
        Saionji smiled a little smugly, his arms folded.  "I have warm
clothing," he replied calmly.  "Speaking of which," he added, tugging
off his gloves, "I need to take this stuff off before I roast."
        "Is there somewhere we can put our coats?" Juri asked him.
        "Come and meet Dimitrios," said Saionji.  "I'm sure he'll be
able to take care of them for us."

        Divested of his polar-expedition outerwear, Saionji proved to
be wearing jeans, his black turtleneck, and his Maple Leafs jersey.
As he returned to stageside, near the concession table, Utena spotted
it; they both cried, "LEEEEAFS!", slammed a high five, and then bumped
their forearms together, grinning gleefully.  Wakaba and Juri both
gave them very strange looks, which made them laugh.
        Kyouichi Saionji and Utena Tenjou, thought Juri, publicly
displaying solidarity, even friendship.  O brave new world... 
        "Creepy, isn't it?" Wakaba murmured, seeing the pensive look
on Juri's face.  Juri blinked and turned to acknowledge her, but
Wakaba was already heading back toward the bar in search of something
to drink.
        Sound check proceeded, concluded.  The performers were just
making ready to quit the stage and get a last beverage before
commencing their concert when they noticed -another- unexpected pair
of figures, these walking along the passageway that led to the stage
from the rear entrance to the club.  One of them was a human carrying
a bass guitar - not all that odd in a music club, but the Art of Noise
was the only band scheduled tonight.  The other was a Narn lugging a
small practice amplifier.
        "Mac??" Moose blinked repeatedly at the young man with the
bass and his Narn 'roadie'.  Speaking for the assembled Art of Noise,
he asked, "What are -YOU- doing here?"
        Mac grunted, absent-mindedly fingering a blues progression
with one hand as he gestured at G'Kron with the other.  "G'Kron talked
me into bringing him."
        "And may the Prophets save me from the folly of doing it
again," G'Kron groaned.  The others noticed the Narn's hide seemed a
little paler than usual, though it might just have been their
imaginations taking their cue from the look on his face.
        "Uh... Mac, you don't have a car," Moose rumbled.  "You've had
to bum rides to Boston more times than I can count.  So how... ?"
        "I -do- have a Cessna airplane," Mac smiled.  "I supplement my
income during breaks by flying bush for a friend of my father.  By the
way, do you know how -hard- it is to FIND this place?"
        "YES," three people said at once.
        "C-C-Cessna?" Kate said.  "W-w-were y-you th-that p-p-p-plane
th-that bu-bu-buzzed us w-west of Alb-b-bany?"
        "YES, we were," G'Kron groaned.  "Had I known how insane this
human becomes at the yoke of an atmospheric craft, I should never
have given in to temptation.  I did not -want- to know how many
bridges a person can fly -under- between Worcester and Toronto."
        Mac shrugged.  "So I like to fly."
        Utena pointed to the bass and asked, "What's that for?"
        Mac smiled.  "Smuggler's trick; it's easier to get in and out
of places if you look like you belong there."
        Kate looked both puzzled and amused and asked, "W-w-were y-you
p-p-plan-n-ning t-to p-p-play th-that h-h-here?"
        Mac looked at Moose.  Moose looked at Mac.  Both of them looked
at Kate and said, as one, "No."

        They opened slowly, starting with a solo piece by Kaitlyn -
haunting synthesized chimes pealing hauntingly through lowered lights
and fog.  That silenced the audience nicely, got them paying
attention, and also puzzled them a little - wasn't this outfit
supposed to be a rock band?
        Any suspicions they might have had that they'd wandered into
the wrong club by mistake were allayed by the next piece, a short,
hard-hitting instrumental that brought all the other members of the
band in, one by one, to overlay Kate's growly substratum and support
Azalynn's snarling solo line.  Then, and only then, after each member
of the band had been "introduced", did they slam down their opening
number - the same song they'd opened with last time they were here, an
anthemic piece Kate called "Higher Place".
        As the first set progressed, Kate stayed behind her keyboards
except for the songs with no keyboard part, for which she usually came
out and used a freestanding mike so that she could get a bit more body
English on her performance.  She was wearing one of the outfits Juri
had given her for her birthday - the one with a sweater that looked
like a maple tree - and the Canadian crowd seemed to appreciate the
touch.
        Miki Kaoru joined them on stage for "Joyride", the old song
they'd practiced and planned to cover on their last drive up to
Toronto, and as Utena had predicted, he went over well.  Women didn't
throw their underwear at him, but she attributed that to his lack of
the Goth look he'd sported the last time he'd come to Sneaky Dee's.
Wakaba briefly considered it, but decided she didn't want to run the
risk of making him die outright.  Azalynn might be acclimating him,
but he was still a delicate boy.
        For the next song, Kate came out from behind her keyboards
with a -guitar-, her trusty, seldom-seen-on-stage black lefty
Stratocaster, slung over her shoulder.  She went and spoke briefly to
Azalynn, who grinned, put her own axe on a stand, and announced into
her microphone,
        "OK, gang, it's special treat time.  Last time Kaitlyn here
was in Toronto, she came here to Sneaky Dee's and caught a show by a
local band you might've heard of, name of The Crush of Love."
        Widespread applause and cheering met this remark; this was the
Crush's home turf, Sneaky Dee's one of their usual haunts.  In fact,
there they were at the back of the room, waving and yelling; Azalynn
hadn't seen them before, but from Kate and Utena's descriptions, who
else could they be?
        "Well, the meeting was kind of an inspiration," Azalynn went
on, "so Kate's been working on a few things that you might say are
kind of in their style.  And since they're here tonight, she figured
maybe she'd play 'em for you over the course of the evening, see what
you think.  If that's OK with you?"
        More cheers, especially from the Crush of Love, who seemed
quite delighted with the idea.
        "Well, all right, then!  The first one's called 'Always With
Me, Always With You', and it's dedicated to our very own chief roadie,
the lovely and talented Utena Tenjou."
        Utena, looking a bit embarrassed but game, waved from the
already-sold-out gear table.
        When she started playing, Kate looked a little nervous; after
all, she very rarely -played- her guitar on stage, mainly using it to
sketch out guitar lines for Azalynn or Amanda, or give her bandmates a
general idea of the melody of a piece.  It wasn't that she wasn't a
proficient guitarist - she was - but she generally felt that Azalynn
was better, and didn't have a problem acknowledging that fact.
        For these new songs, though, the instrumentals... there was
something deeply personal about them, something that she wasn't sure
she'd be able to convey to Azalynn so that the Dantrovian could play
them the way Kaitlyn heard them in her mind.  That wasn't a problem
with their more collaborative efforts, like most of the Art of Noise's
repetoire, but these were different, and so she decided that if they
were going to get played in public at all, she would have to play
them.
        For her part, Azalynn didn't mind; she knew how personal music
could be sometimes.  She sat on the edge of Devlin's drum riser and
listened with a smile as Kate used the old Strat to try to give shape
to her feelings.
        Utena, sitting on the empty gear table, knew immediately the
mood Kate was trying to evoke, and it brought a slightly nostalgic
smile to her face.  She would have found it hard to explain exactly
how she knew, especially since she didn't know much about music theory
or structure, but... this song felt like last Christmastime.  The
-good- parts, not the awful, raw, frightening parts; the us-against-
the-world parts, the mutual support and the power of truth, three and
a half minutes of a musical thank-you note from one best friend to
another for having braved a very difficult time together.
        Wakaba touched Utena's elbow, gave her a concerned look, but
she smiled and shook her head, no, I'm fine.  The song left a tear in
Utena's eye, comprehension in Wakaba Shinohara's heart, and a hush in
the room.  The silence stretched, brittle, a curiously moving moment
even for those who utterly lacked its context, but dangerous - capable
of turning maudlin at the slightest provocation.
        So Kate took advantage of the hush to put up her Strat, go
over to her keyboards, and sneak up on them with the piano line from
"Old Time Rock & Roll", and shatter that silence completely.
        In that first set, they rocked the house in that fashion for
forty minutes or so, all told.  Then, while the rest of the band took
a break, Kaitlyn tuned up her board stack and played a few solo
pieces, ranging from the simple-but-difficult rapid-fire piano
exercise she called "Run Down" to some more complex overlapping-line
semi-programmed stuff.
        While she did that, the rest of the band sat in a line, wedged
into a gap at the bar, drinking Cokes and discussing how well the
opening set had gone.  They'd played hard for forty minutes, but none
of them looked tired - only exhilarated, and ready for more as soon as
their boss was done showing off.
        Devlin Carter was about to say something to Amanda, but
history will have to wonder forever what it would have been, because
before he got the chance, a hand seized his shoulder, spinning him
around on his barstool.  His right hand dropped into his side pocket,
but another hand clamped onto his wrist, immobilizing his arm; then a
mouth clamped onto his lips, immobilizing the rest of him.
        When he was released, he damn near fell off the stool; only
the fact that Amanda was behind him, hands against his back, kept him
from thudding to the floor.
        He blinked, stared, blinked again, and finally managed to
sputter,
        "R-Rina!"
        For his assailant, if that can be said to be the word, was
indeed Kitarina Dragonaar, her scarlet hair a little shaggier than
when he'd last seen her, a broad grin on her face.  She was dressed in
a black leather bomber jacket over a white man-style button-front
shirt that was a bit too small for the bosom it was being asked to
contain, Gamilon Navy uniform pants and field boots, and the blue skin
of her chin still bore the mark of a helmet strap.
        "What are _YOU_ doing here?!" Devlin blurted.
        "Well, I just happened to be in the neighborhood," said Rina;
then she shook her head, still grinning, and said, "Nah, that's a damn
lie.  I'm on leave and I got lonely.  Figured I'd stop by and see if
maybe you and Skyblade wanted to fool around."
        Devlin went scarlet from the collar of his t-shirt to his
jagged blond widow's peak.  Amanda put a proprietary arm around him
from behind, leaned her face over his shoulder, and said with a rather
conspiratorial smile,
        "Here in Canada, that's illegal at our age, Kit."
         Rina rolled her eyes.  "Yeah-huh."
        Azalynn crowded up behind them, looking over Devlin's other
shoulder.  "What's illegal, Amanda?"
        "Your favorite hobby, Azalynn dear."
        Azalynn looked puzzled.  "It's illegal to collect recordings
of Narn opera in Canada?"
        "No," said Amanda patiently, then added with a parenthetical
expression, "Although it should be."  Then, briskly, "Azalynn, this is
Kitarina Dragonaar, I've told you about her.  Kit, my roommate,
Azalynn dv'Ir Natashkan."
        "Oh!" said Azalynn, looking enlightened.  "You mean -that-!
That's not a -hobby-," she added reproachfully.  Then she smiled and
added, "It's more like a vocation."
        "I stand corrected."
        "Can I help?"
        "I think not."
        "Aw.  Can I -watch-?"
        "-Definitely- not."
        "Darn!"
        "Hey, -I- don't mind," Rina interjected.  "You're kinda cute."
        "I suppose I have no objection, then.  The logistics may
become very difficult to manage after a while, though, especially with
just the one male involved.  I don't suppose you brought Garon?"
        "Nah, he's out patrolling the Rim someplace, and anyway, we'd
have to figure out what to do with Cora then."
        "Mm, true.  Which would leave us with the same problem, only
magnified."
        "We could ask Moose - "
        "Don't drag me into this, Azamuffin," the Hoffmanite rumbled
equably.  "No offense to Devlin, I'm sure, but I -do not- get freaky
that way."
        "Sheesh.  None of you are -any- fun."
        "I like to think I'm a -lot- of fun," Rina protested.  "Huh,
'Manda?"
        "She does have her moments.  Though those moments tend to be
rather noisy."
        Devlin, throughout all of this, made only a quiet, pitiful
noise, as of a tiny creature which knows it is doomed.

        When they went back to the stage, though, after Kaitlyn's solo
break ended, they took Rina with them; a hurried conference behind
Kate's keyboards ensued.  When the lights came back up, the redheaded
Gamilon was behind Devlin's drum kit and Devlin was out front, at the
mike stand Kate used on the songs without a keyboard line to keep her
behind the stack.
        "Ladies and gentlemen, we have an unexpected treat for you
tonight," Moose boomed.  "All the way from the glorious Gamilon Empire
to take over the drum set - please welcome the lovely and I can only
assume talented Miss Kitarina Dragonaar, graciously freeing up our own
Devlin Carter to take over the lead vocal duties for this next
number."
        Kate glanced back at Rina, who grinned; then, as though they'd
rehearsed it a thousand times, the two women started the next song,
Rina's hammering beat blending with Kate's urgent keyboard line to set
the stage for a cover of a 20th-century Earth song that Devlin figured
perfectly summed up the state of his life at this particular point in
time.
        Despite the enduring popularity of 20th-century rock music,
not many in the audience had -heard- Tommy Shaw's "Girls With Guns",
and none of them understood the significance; but several of the
sharper-eyed audience members noticed that it was the first of only
two times in the entire evening when the rhythm guitarist, also a
Gamilon, -smiled-, and wondered what to make of that.
        Devlin took a break for the next song and then resumed his
place behind the drum kit for the evening's tongue-in-cheek playing of
"the Saionji Song", as "Crazy Train" had gotten nicknamed within the
band; at which point Rina joined the audience and the band, restored
to its normal composition, resumed the second set full speed ahead.
        One of the subsequent tracks was a full-on, old-fashioned
electro-dance number, featuring sequenced everything and Kaitlyn's
voice run through a tonebender to flatten, flange and modulate it
almost beyond recognition.  After that came another of her solo guitar
compositions, this one fast-paced and furious but upbeat, like a duel
fought for nothing more than the sheer joy of the clash (or at least
that's how it struck Utena).  A few more songs rounded out the second
set, and as they left the stage, Moose intoned,
        "If you can believe it, that's only half of what we've got
planned for you tonight.  We must be out of our -minds-.  Anyway,
we're gonna knock off for about 20 minutes, and then we'll be back.
Thanks."

        They spent most of those twenty minutes deep in conference
with Joe Graf, the shaven-headed, datajacked lead guitarist of the
Crush of Love.  He didn't join them on stage when they returned, but
Azalynn went to her microphone and announced,
        "Joe from the Crush wants to hear us do something with a lot
of cool harmonies in it - which is fine with me, 'cause I've been
trying to convince Kate to do this one live for almost a year, and now
that Joe's given her the gumption to play her axe on stage, she's
finally agreed to do it!  This's a re-do of a re-do, but we have a lot
of fun with it - it's called 'I Think I Like It'."  She grinned, a
little wickedly, and went on, "Kate's too shy to, but I'm gonna
dedicate it to our pal Miki Kaoru, the Lord of Time."
        Kaitlyn came up to stand beside her, guitar at the ready, and
gave her a halfhearted little glare, knowing that the stage lights
would wash the blush out of her face and the audience would never know
the difference.  Azalynn grinned at her, then nodded, Devlin slammed
down a heavy opening beat, and they were off.
        The song was loud and powerful, but intricate - it had -four-
guitar parts, Moose's bass, Amanda's strong rhythm, and Azalynn and
Kate trading off the lead line.  The three women played off each
other's lines with little flourishes and embellishments.  Sometimes it
was almost as if all three were playing lead, but for the rigorous
constancy that Amanda imposed on her line even when she was kicking
down an ornamental frill or backing up Moose while the Hoffmanite and
Devlin Carter kept the whole thing charging along.
        In their precision, their artistry, and their gleeful manner,
they did rather remind their audience of the Crush of Love, though the
style of the song was a bit different - less abstract, more
straight-ahead power rock than the Crush normally did.
        That, and they -sang-.  All three of the guitarists sang at
times, both Azalynn and Amanda braiding their voices with Kaitlyn's
during the bridges and choruses.  She'd never sung and played guitar
at the same time in front of an audience before, but it wasn't that
different from doing the same with a keyboard, really, and she didn't
have trouble keeping up the feints and hooks at the ends of the lines
as she laid down the main vocal line.
        It was a song about the embracing of change, sung from the
perspective of someone who was once confused but thinks the answer has
now become apparent.  Miki, down in the pit, smiled at the chorus
("Ooh, I think I like it / I think I like what I'm feeling even though
it's such a surprise, but you know / Ooh, I think I really like it / I
think I like what I'm feeling / Changes really open your eyes") as he
watched the rec levels and made sure all of the intricately entwined
guitar work would be showcased, none of it overpowering or buried.
Changes certainly had opened -his- eyes, and he suspected all his
fellow Cephireans felt the same way.  He couldn't see any of them from
where he was, though, so he supposed he'd have to find out later, if
he remembered to ask.
        After the second chorus, Devlin wound up and propelled the
three guitarists into a round-robin solo where each in turn took up
the rhythm line for a bit while the others dueled.  This, as she stood
back to back with Azalynn and ripped a searing solo line out of her
black Gibson Flying V, was the second point in the evening at which
Amanda Dessler smiled.
        They wrapped that up after a minute or so and slammed into the
third verse without losing any of their intensity, then wound it down
artfully with the last line and dissipated the energy painlessly with
a few seconds of calm, gentle three-way guitar harmonies, a little bit
of extemporizing from Kate, and then a slow trail off into silence.
        The silence didn't last long, since it gave way to cheering,
and Kate, flushed with the unaccustomed exertion of jumping around as
a lead guitarist and singing at the same time, bowed, put her Strat
back in its rack, and got behind her keyboards again for the rest of
the set.
        By the third break, they were starting to get a bit winded,
which Dimitrios didn't fail to notice as he brought the gang of them
(well, except Dorothy) Cokes.
        "You kids going to be OK?" he asked.  "I guess I shouldn't
have booked you for the whole night, but who knows when you'll get
back up here again?"
        Kate smiled, slugged back about half of her Coke, and said,
"D-d-don't w-w-w-worry, w-we'll m-m-make it."
        "This is a good crowd," Devlin observed.  "Lots of positive
energy, what?  I'm a little tired, but I've no intention of quitting."
        "Nor I," Amanda agreed.  "Though if you're tiring, Earthman,
you might ask Sniper to spell you for a while.  She seemed to fit into
the group quite nicely during your turn at the microphone... "  She
smiled slightly and gave him a nudge that the others almost didn't
notice before adding in a lower voice, "... and you'll need -some-
energy later on... "
        Kaitlyn coughed.
        "I'll be fine, Amanda, thank you for your concern," said
Devlin stiffly, resolutely not looking embarrassed.

        At the end of the third break, Joe Graf took the stage for an
unannounced (indeed, unplanned) guest appearance.  The rest of his
band hooted and cheered as he borrowed the Art of Noise's rhythm
section for a performance of the Crush of Love's namesake song.  Then,
as Kate returned to her band, he stuck around to vamp up the dueling
intro from the old Dire Straits tune "Heavy Fuel" with Azalynn before
leaving the stage amid tumultuous applause to resume his station in
the audience with his laughing, elbowing bandmates.
        Despite the fact that they'd been playing for over two hours
now, the band didn't show any signs of slowing down.  They rolled and
sweated and grinned through four more songs before pausing to unveil a
new tune they'd just finished rehearsing up to public-performance
standards the day before.
        Kate startled everyone present by doing the talking -herself-
on the introduction and dedication to this song, a feat she was only
capable of because she was, in doing so, specifically addressing a
single person in the audience, as if talking to her alone rather than
in a crowded club.
        "I w-wrote this s-s-song in P-Paris," she said, smiling a
little shyly at Juri Arisugawa, who stood near the edge of the
equipment pit.  Juri looked mildly surprised, but smiled in return, as
Kate went on, "It's c-called 'To B-Be Alive Ag-gain'.  I h-hope you
l-l-like it."
        And indeed Juri -did- like it, though the lyrics unsettled her
slightly - it was as if Kate knew considerably more about her past
than she did.  Unless someone had told her... but the only ones who
could have done that were Tenjou and Miki Kaoru.  If either of them
had, Juri concluded, it was probably Tenjou; she was a natural-born
busybody, which in an odd way was part of her charm.  Miki was
naturally discreet - it was one of the things Juri liked about him,
and even his dalliance with Azalynn hadn't changed it - but he had a
bond with Kaitlyn that had to stem from something deeper than was
obvious at first glance, so she supposed it was possible.
        Either way, it was pleasant and at the same time a little
chilling when, during the bridge, Kaitlyn looked straight at her and
sang, "You're not among the walking wounded anymore / There's a time
to fall / There's a time to rise above it all... "
        Pleasant, and a little chilling, but was it -true-?
        Well... she had endured six freezing hours in Saionji's
sidecar for -something- tonight, and it hadn't been the scintillating
conversation (impossible over the wind noise and the roar of the old
Corley Titan's V-twin engine) or the scenery (invisible in the
darkness, and, she was given to understand, pretty dull by daylight).
        So perhaps there was something to it... ?
        Juri shrugged inwardly and reminded herself that a rock
concert was probably not the best place for introspection.
        Kate played another of her Joe-like compositions, a soaring
anthem called "Friends" that she dedicated, through Azalynn, to "all
our friends who've joined us this year from far away."  Then she went
back to her keyboards, Miki emerged from the pit to man the second
bank of boards off to her right, and they finished up the show with,
of all things, a heavy metal version of "The Carol of the Bells".
Azalynn explained that they were playing a Christmas song in March
because Kate liked it, "because it's the only Christmas carol any of
us can think of in a minor key."
        It was nearly midnight, and yet, the band still had a spark of
energy left in them.  As they gathered backstage and listened to the
still-cheering audience, Kate beamed around at her winded, grinning
bandmates.
        "W-what do you th-think?" she asked them.  "One m-more?"
        Amanda gave a little sigh, surveyed her left hand, and said
with affected glumness, "I am prepared to die for the honor of rock
if you decree it, Bandleader."
        Azalynn grinned and punched her in the shoulder.  "You -sure-
you don't want my help later?"
        "We'll see," said Amanda with a smile.
        "Don't I get a vote?" Devlin wondered.
        "Gamilon," Amanda informed him pleasantly, "is not a democracy."
        "Let's do it," rumbled Moose.
        "OK," said Kate.  "L-let's do 'R-Red Balloons'."
        "Kind of a funny note to end a concert on," Moose mused.
        "I like it," said Azalynn.  "If they're thinking, it'll remind
them that life isn't all fun and games, and it -still- rocks the house
as a closer."
        Amanda nodded.  "I must concur with the rodent."
        "Whatever you decide, lads, I'm jus' happy t'be here," said
Devlin in his airiest Ringo Starr.
        "OK," said Moose.  "I'm game."
        They went back out.  The crowd had good instincts - nobody had
left yet.
        "OK," said Azalynn cheerily, "-one- more.  This one's old, but
we think you'll like what we've done with it... "
        They started out pretty quietly, with the guitars kind of
bell-like and Devlin just doing some quiet brushy things to his snare;
then the guitars slowly built from a simple picked rhythm behind Kate
as she went to the freestanding mic and sang in her sweetest voice:

"You and I in a little toy shop
Buy a bag of balloons with the money we've got
Set them free at the break of dawn
'Til one by one they were gone
At the Dome, bugs in the software
Flash the message, 'Something's out there'
Floating in the summer sky
Ninety-nine red balloons go by... "

        And just as she hit 'by', her band slammed down the melody
line behind her, propelling the song in an instant from quiet
wistfulness to a driving snarl.  She let them play through it, almost
dancing with Amanda as she powered out the rhythm line, then wrenched
the microphone on its stand to her face and let fly in an angry rasp,

"Ninety-nine red balloons
Floating in the summer sky
Panic bells, it's red alert
There's something here from somewhere else
The war machine it springs to life
Opens up one eager eye
Focusing it on the sky
As ninety-nine red balloons go by!"

        Azalynn seared through a high solo version of the hook,
dumping Kate right back where she'd started.

"Ninety-nine Decision Street
Ninety-nine ministers meet
To worry, worry, super-scurry
Call out the troops now in a hurry!
This is what we've waited for
This is it boys, this is war!
The President is on the line
As ninety-nine red balloons go by!"

        Again the searing high hook, and then Azalynn and Amanda
joined Kate in another of the band's trademark harmonies:

"Ninety-nine knights of the air
Ride super-high-tech jet fighters
Every one's a super-hero
Every one's a Captain Kirk
With orders to identify
To clarify and classify
Scramble in the summer sky
As ninety-nine red balloons go by!"

        This time Azalynn didn't solo out the hook; instead the whole
band gathered itself and powered through the original melody line
again.  Kate ranged here and there, grinning fiercely at her bandmates
as they drove themselves to bring this last number straight over the
top, and when it came back around to her cue again, she squared up on
the microphone and belted out with all her might,

"Neunundneunzig Kriegsminister
Streichholz und Benzinkanister
Hielten sich fuer schlaue Leute
Witterten schon fette Beute
Riefen: Krieg und wollten Macht
Mann, wer haette das gedacht
Dass es einmal soweit kommt
Wegen neunundneunzig Luftballons!
Neunundneunzig Luftballons!
Ninety-nine red balloons go by!"

        And then it all crashed down into nothing, imploding on itself
in a single cataclysmic restating of the last bit of the hook, leaving
nothing but a pin spot on Kaitlyn as she sang, softly, plaintively,
and alone,

"Ninety-nine dreams I have had
And every one a red balloon
It's all over and I'm standing pretty
In this dust that was a city
If I could find a souvenir
Just to prove the world was here... 
Here it is, a red balloon
I think of you
And let it go... "

        The pin went out, the stage was dark and silent, and a moment
later, when the house lights came up, the Art of Noise was gone.  The
applause began sporadically, as if the audience were startled and not
sure it was over, but then it washed around the room, rising in
intensity until it was like a gale-force wind.
        "I think," Moose MacEchearn observed dryly to his bandmates
backstage, "they liked us all right."

        G'Kron and Mac begged off dinner (G'Kron citing a pressing
need for Mac to be fully rested before taking the controls of his
"suicide machine" and aiming it at the United States again).  The rest
were all jammed into the big round corner booth at Happy Seven: the
Art of Noise, Utena, Wakaba, Saionji, Juri, Miki, Corwin, Rina, the
Crush of Love - talking happily, banging elbows, stealing each other's
appetizers, and unwinding from what Kaitlyn maintained had been
absolutely the finest show her band had ever put on.
        "And we couldn't have done it without Joe," said Azalynn,
raising her teacup.
        "Well, I dunno - " said Joe Graf in his soft, mellow voice.
He looked a little embarrassed, but Azalynn overrode his objections.
        "No, really!  Without you to ask us to do it, we'd never have
played 'I Think I Like It' to open the third set, and that song really
gave us our second wind.  It did me, anyway.  I -love- that round
robin solo, and the way the rhythm section is integrated into the
whole song - when it goes right it really makes me feel like we're
clicking, and it -definitely- went right tonight.  After we nailed
the second chorus I could have played all night.  Don't you guys
think?"
        "Mm," said Kaitlyn, nodding as she swallowed her tea.  "I
ag-g-gree.  B-bringing that one t-t-together is a h-huge l-lift.  It's
a g-g-gamble, though."
        "Yeah," Moose agreed.  "'Cause if we blow it, there goes our
mood for the rest of the day.  'Swhy we've never tried it in public
before."  He smiled at Joe.  "So Azalynn's right - it's all thanks to
Joe that the second half went so smoothly."  He rubbed an imaginary
ache in his side and added, "We quit exactly at the right time,
though.  One more song and I'd have ruptured my Groove Thing for
sure."
        "Speaking of groove things, Wingleader," said Rina, glancing
pointedly at her wrist chron, "my time here is limited."
        "Of course, Pilot Officer Dragonaar," said Amanda.  She rose
briskly, placed her neatly folded napkin upon her plate, and said, "I
trust you all will excuse us?"
        Azalynn gave her a hopeful look, but she shook her head.
        "Not this time, Azalynn," Amanda told her.
        The Dantrovian feigned disappointment, then smiled and said,
"I understand.  Have a good time!  See you guys back in Worcester
tomorrow.  It was nice meeting you, Rina."
        "And you, all of you," said the redheaded Gamilon with a
pleasant smile.
        "Come along, Earthman," said Amanda, and she started for the
exit with her bodyguard at her heels.
        Devlin could be heard muttering, "(... fear no evil, for thou
art with... )" as he 'scuse-me'd his way around the end of the booth,
then trotted after them - but he was smiling.
        "What was that all about?" wondered Domina Kelley, the Crush
of Love's gravel-voiced, dreadlocked bassist.
        "Gamilon courtship ritual," said Azalynn brightly.
        "Oh."

        The Crush of Love parted from the Art of Noise and company on
the sidewalk outside Happy Seven; it wasn't a long walk up Spadina to
the University, where they all lived.
        "Drive safely," said Joe.
        "Have a good summer," added Erik Arnulfsson, the band's rhythm
guitarist.  "Hopefully we'll see you back in the fall."
        "There's a function room in the basement of Riley Hall, where
I live," Azalynn told them.  "It used to be a pub, back when the
Institute was a college.  Sometimes the Student Social Committee books
bands in there - you guys should come down and play a pub show
sometime."  She nudged Kaitlyn with an elbow.  "Kate's on the Student
Council.  She could get you in."
        Kate smiled.  "Seems l-l-likely," she agreed.
        "Coming up on finals this year," said Joe.  "But maybe this
fall?"
        "We come up here, you go down there... I like it."  Azalynn
framed an imaginary sign with her hands.  "The Toronto-Worcester
Cultural Band Exchange!"
        Joe chuckled.  "Sounds good.  Good night, you guys.  Great
show."
        "B-be s-s-seeing you, J-Joe," said Kate, and the Art of Noise
and friends stood and waved as the other band disappeared up the
street.
        "Well, boys 'n girls," said Moose with a yawn you could have
stuffed an entire birthday cake into, "it's past -this- Moose's
bedtime.  All aboard who's gettin' aboard for the Mississauga Motel
6.  I hear we've even got multiple rooms this time."
        Miki stopped his watch.  "The subtle science of reservations,"
he said with a smile.
        "I wonder where Devlin's spending the night," said Wakaba with
an evil grin and an elbow in Saionji's ribs.
        "Someplace soundproofed, one hopes," Saionji replied dryly.
        Azalynn pouted the pout of the left-out.
        Juri just shook her head and sighed in mild disbelief.
        Utena and Corwin had been in some sort of conference under the
streetlight next to his antique limo; now they rejoined the group as
it started to divide itself among the vehicles.
        "Kate," said Utena, "do you mind driving your car back to
Worcester tomorrow?"
        Kate looked surprised.  "N-no," she said, "b-but... "  She let
her face ask the question for her.
        Corwin grinned.  "I finally finished the Wonder," he said.
"She's over at YYZ - "
        " - and y-you w-w-want to sh-show off," Kate finished for him
with a smile.
        "Well... "  He rubbed sheepishly at the nape of his neck.
"... Yeah."
        "All r-right," said Kate with mock reluctance, "b-b-but n-next
time you v-visit, I w-want a t-tour too."
        "Sure, you bet.  Bring the whole gang.  Heck - you could come
tonight.  I ended up fitting four cabins.  It'd save you some money on
the motel rooms.  I don't have the cargo space for both cars,
though... "
        "We're a-already r-r-reserved," Kate told him.  "You g-go
ahead.  I'll s-see you g-guys tom-morrow, then?"
        Utena handed the Impala's keys back to their owner.  "Well,
you'll see me, anyway."
        Corwin nodded, then drew his sister up in a hug.  "I'll have
to leave before you get in," he said.
        >Walk in glory, little brother,< said Kate - the only Old
Norse she knew, her traditional farewell for him.
        >Live with courage, elder sister,< he replied.
        Goodness, she realized, he's getting tall enough to kiss my
forehead.  Won't be long before he's towering over me.  I guess I
inherited Dad's 'short gene'...
        Hugs, handshakes, and farewells all around, and then they
split up - the van, Vlad the Impala and Saionji's old Corley sidecar
rig heading for the Mississauga Motel 6, and the black Griffon bound
for Pearson International Spaceport.

        /*  The Andrews Sisters  "Bei Mir Bist Du Schoen"  */

        The radio was playing an old swing song, and in the dim glow
of the dashboard instruments, Utena could see the quiet little smile
on Corwin's face as he guided the old car along the highway.  She was
tired from her long day, that happy sort of tiredness where you know
that the sleep you owe yourself is just going to be -delicious- when
you finally get around to having it.
        In this contemplative mood, it struck her, not for the first
time, how comfortable she felt with Corwin around.  This situation was
one which, given her past history, by all rights ought to have made
her nervous, or at least tense.  Alone in a car with a handsome
fellow, speeding down a deserted highway at night - she should have
been wading hip deep through bad memories and the fear that history
tended to be repetitive.
        Instead, she was perfectly relaxed, aware of every pleasant
little thing around her - the restful sound of the radio, the coolness
of the slipstream washing over the knuckles of her right hand as it
lay along the window coaming, the private little smile on Corwin's
face, barely visible in the yellowish-green glow of the dash.  Utena
had no fear of him, not because she was confident she could defend
herself if the need arose, but because she trusted him - trusted him
absolutely - not to make it necessary.
        There had been a time, not so long ago, when she had wondered
if she would ever be able to trust a man like that again.  Well, all
right, Corwin wasn't really a -man-, not yet; but... still... 
        She must have dozed off; what woke her again was the sensation
of the car gliding to a stop.
        "Well," said Corwin, gesturing.  "There she is."
        Utena opened her eyes and looked.
        "Wow," she said.
        They were in a spaceport revetment - she recognized it from
her voyages aboard Corwin's father's personal ship, Daggerdisc, which
Corwin had been regularly borrowing to make his visits to Earth.  In
front of them, crouched on three stout landing legs, was a different
vessel.
        It reminded Utena somewhat of Daggerdisc - it was about the
same size, and like that familiar vessel it was flat-bodied and broad.
It had a sort of overall mechanical similarity - many of the
individual parts, like the quad-mount weapon turrets on top and bottom
in the center, the landing gear, and the bullet-shaped cockpit, were
the same.  Where Daggerdisc was mainly circular, though, with a pair
of odd mandible-like protrusions at the front and the cockpit off to
the left, this ship was more wedge-shaped, point forward, cockpit to
the right of center, with steep, sharp fins at the ends like stubby
atmospheric wings.  In fact, the whole thing was rather wing-shaped.
        Also unlike Daggerdisc, which was mainly bare armor with a
silvery-white coloration, this ship was thermocoated in black, a
glossy black that gleamed in the lights of the revetment, with silver
striping.  As Corwin drove around the ship to port, Utena could easily
read the markings on its upright fin:

                               HDK-8212
                            ONE-HIT WONDER
                              NEW AVALON

        The Griffon rounded the rear quarter of the ship, revealing,
instead of Daggerdisc's wraparound three-section conformal ion
thruster, eight big round fusion turbine exhausts, four on each side.
They conspired with the fins and the forward-leaning look of the wedge
shape to make the ship look fast and brawny, like a sports car with
bulging fenders.
        Corwin drove the car onto the waiting cargo elevator aft of
the forward landing gear, set the parking brake, and tabbed a control
next to the console VDU.  The elevator retracted, and there they were,
parked in what looked for all the world like a garage.  He trotted
around to the passenger side to open the door for his guest, then
conducted her through a power hatch and into the more personable
section of the ship.
        It looked much like Daggerdisc inside as well, with the same
sorts of fittings and subtle design features.  Utena discovered the
reason for this in the engine room, where there was a brass plate
fixed proudly to the only part of the forward bulkhead that wasn't
either an access panel or traversed by conduits.
        "Corellian Engineering Corporation," she read aloud.  "Type IX
Space Freighter, YT-490 Class.  What's that relative to your dad's?"
        "Earlier," Corwin replied.  "Matter of fact, this series
predates Salusia's First Contact with Earth - it's older than Dad."
        "Wow."  Utena looked around and grinned.  "Your family sure
does like old stuff."
        "They don't make 'em like this anymore," said Corwin with a
grin, slapping a support beam as they made their way around a short,
curving hallway into the wardroom.
        "You told Kate she was finished.  You've been working on her
for a while?"
        Corwin nodded.  "Dad and I found the spaceframe in a junkyard
when I told him I wanted to take the master's exam.  She was pretty
much derelict - no windows, no engines, not even atmospheric
integrity.  He and Mom and Hiroshi have been helping me fix her up
since last September."
        Utena laughed and said with wry accusation, "I stayed with you
and your mom for a -week- and you never said a thing about it."
        "I wanted it to be a surprise," he told her.  "Just think -
one day you might have a ship like this yourself."
        "Me?  Get real.  I couldn't pass that exam."
        "Not now," Corwin acknowledged, "but you're smart.  If you
wanted to, you could study up for it.  Maybe not carrying a full
course load, but if you did like I did and worked it during a
summer... "  He shrugged.  "I've seen the way you react to space
travel," he went on, worrying slightly that he might be stepping too
far.  "I think you'd really enjoy piloting.  Master of your own
destiny and all that...  just you, your ship and the stars... it's
romantic."
        She gave him an odd look; he blushed and added,
        "Not boy-girl romantic, necessarily.  Romantic like... you
know, swashbuckling.  A lot of people think space travel is the only
real adventure left."
        Utena considered that and said, around a yawn, that she
supposed she could see the appeal.
        "If you decide you want to try it sometime," said Corwin,
"I'll help you any way I can.  So would Mom, I'm sure, and Dad."
        She nodded, smiling, and said sincerely, "I'll think about
it."
        "In the meantime," said Corwin as her yawn proved its powers
of contagion, "here's your cabin."  He tabbed a control on the
corridor wall, and the narrow door swished open to reveal a compact
little bedroom complete with a dataterminal, a folding sink, and what
proved, on closer examination, to be a sonic shower cubicle.  It was
like a sleeper compartment on a train, tidy and neat, everything in
its place.  "It's a little small, but... "
        "Looks fine to me," Utena assured him.
        "Well, g'night, then," Corwin said.  "If you need anything,
the intercom's by the head of the bunk.  The green button in the upper
left calls the captain's cabin.  It's the last door on the left," he
added, pointing up the narrow little hallway.
        Utena smiled, gave him a hug, and bade him goodnight, then
listened to the click of his shoes against the deckplates as he walked
up to his own room.  Beep-swish, click, beep-swish, as he went into
his cabin, and then all was silent except for the soft, subliminal hum
of the ship's power systems.
        Utena dropped her duffel bag by the folding sink, changed into
her pajamas, and climbed into the narrow but surprisingly comfortable
bunk, then reached up to the control panel and switched off the
lights.
        Just like camping, really, she thought as she drifted off to
sleep.

        Worcester Regional Spaceport was a small facility, not heavily
used.  Only one commercial spaceline and two planetary airlines used
it, all of them fairly small operations; everything else was private
traffic.  Thus it was rather unusual that there were not one but two
spacecraft wearing the colors of the Imperial Gamilon Navy present, a
stubby Thardok-class scoutship and a sleek, deadly Lightning IV
astrofighter.
        "Our timing's pretty good," Utena observed, pointing.  Corwin
noted what she'd noted, the three figures standing in a little group
by the Lightning, and smiled.
        "Good to see Carter's still standing," he observed, locked
down his panel, and got up to head for the garage bay.

        "Well, kids," said Rina Dragonaar airily, "it's been fun, but
my weekend pass is just about up.  Time to hit the gate and head
for my rendezvous with the flagship."  She fastened the collar of her
flightsuit and tabbed the wrist control to pressurize it.  "Wouldn't
want to keep Captain Doorknob waiting."
        "That would certainly never do," Amanda agreed dryly.
        Rina went to the side of the fighter, punched a code into the
access keypad, then yanked the collapsible boarding ladder down while
the cockpit canopy whined slowly open.  Turning to the other two, she
smiled a bit more seriously.
        "Take care, you guys.  If you need me, just yell and I'll come
running.  Amanda, I wish you'd reconsider letting me stay here - "
Amanda opened her mouth to reply, but Rina continued with a resigned
grin, " - but I know you won't."  She turned to Devlin, put a hand on
his shoulder.  "So it's up to you, Carter.  Keep her in one piece
until she can come back to me... "
        Devlin smiled.  "I will," he told her.
        "And while you're at it... "  Rina pulled him close, kissed
him hard, and when murmured, "... keep -yourself- in one piece too."
        "I plan to," he replied.  She grinned, punched him in the
shoulder, then kissed Amanda goodbye and climbed up into the
Lightning's cockpit.  The princess and her companion backed away, past
the yellow safety line, and watched as the the pilot put on her
helmet, checked her systems, then powered up the fighter, lifted off,
and headed for the stars.
        They were standing there hand in hand, watching the Lightning
vanish into the blue spring sky when Corwin's black car glided quietly
up next to them.
        "Hey," said Utena through her open window.  "Give you guys a
lift back to school?"

        Utena wasn't quite awake yet when, on Monday morning, she
opened her mailbox in Daniels Hall to find a letter from the Dean of
Students.  Making a puzzled noise, she leaned her briefcase against
the wall, opened the envelope, took out the letter within, and read.
It was a personalized form letter, which accounted for the large
number of WPI envelopes in the large trash barrel near the elevator,
and it read as follows:

                   WORCESTER PREPARATORY INSTITUTE
      100 Institute Road, Worcester, MA / Earth / Earth Alliance

2405.03.28
To: TENJOU, Utena (2407-123)

It pains me to inform all students of the unexpected retirement of
Mr. Arthur Haineley, the Office of Student Assistance's Student
Counselor.  As you may know, Mr. Haineley has not been well for some
time, but owing to his strong commitment to the good of the student
body here, he chose to remain at the Institute for as long as he was
able.  However, over the weekend, his condition has worsened, and he
and his doctors have agreed that the time has come for him to think of
himself.

Only with the greatest of effort has a replacement been found so
quickly, but the administration considers the Student Counselor's
position very important, far too important to leave vacant for the
remainder of the term.  It is, therefore, with great pleasure that I
welcome to our academic family Miss Martine LeClercq!

Miss LeClercq has an uphill struggle ahead of her, trying to become
acquainted with the school's population without any time to prepare or
review the student files.  Therefore, I am asking all the students to
help her by meeting with her for an informal, one-on-one session
within the next three weeks.  Your appointment is set for Thursday,
March 31, at 10:30 AM, in Miss LeClercq's office at 204 Boynton Hall.
Professor Farr has been notified and your absence from Calculus I part
4 will be excused.

Please make every effort to be punctual; Miss LeClercq has a great
many appointments to keep, and any tardiness by one student will
disrupt her schedule for the entire day, inconveniencing everyone.

Thank you for your attention to this matter; I know you will want to
make Miss LeClercq feel as welcome here at the Institute as you can.

Yours very sincerely,
(signed)
Carleton J.M. Wetherwell
Dean of Students

        Utena cocked an eyebrow, read the letter again, then picked up
her bookbag and stuffed the letter into it.  Whatever.  She was
running late for Klingonese as it was, and Professor Kraalgh got so
grumpy when people wandered in late.

        Over lunch, the Duelists compared their letters and speculated
on their significance.  The first one of them to have an appointment
was Kaitlyn, whose time to meet with the new counselor was at 1 that
afternoon, immediately following lunch.  This sparked a digression
into wondering just how the scheduling for these meetings had been
determined, since they seemed to follow neither the alphabet nor
student ID numbers.  Finally that thread was abandoned as unresolvable
without more data, and Kate was tasked with letting the others know
what this was all about.
        With that in her mind, she gathered up her bookbag and walking
stick and left a bit early so as to reach Boynton Hall promptly at 1.
The admin building was the highest one on campus, surmounting
Institute Hill like a grey-brown stone church with its clock tower and
dour facade.  Kaitlyn entered, climbed the stairs to the second floor,
and found her way to room 204.  That wasn't hard; she had met with
Mr. Haineley several times the previous year, during her difficulties
with her previous roommate.
        Arthur Haineley had been a good counselor, a pleasant elderly
man with a remarkably varied background who had an anecdote for almost
any situation and a way of putting students at their ease.  Kaitlyn
missed him, hoped his retirement would improve his health, and
wondered what his replacement was like - this last rather an academic
thing to wonder, as she would find out in about ten seconds.
        She knocked at the door and was bade to come in.
        The office was different.  When it was Mr. Haineley's, it was
wood-paneled and full of bookshelves, with leather-covered chairs and
a big redwood desk.  It had rather reminded Kate of the den back home
in New Avalon.  Now it was sparse, almost industrial, its walls
stripped to plain white and the furnishings all of chrome, glass and
white plastic.  The desk in the corner was a modern datadesk, plain
and unadorned.  The only decoration in the place was an abstract
lightprint hanging on the wall behind the desk.
        Seated at that desk was a woman of indeterminate adulthood,
neither young nor quite middle-aged, with silvery-blonde hair drawn
back in a bun and a sober gray suit.  She smiled, but it didn't quite
go to her blue eyes, and stood up.
        "Ah, good afternoon, Miss Hutchins," she said.  "Please, sit
down.  You're right on time, I appreciate that."
        Kate nodded and went to a chair.  For a moment she wondered
why the new counselor didn't offer to shake hands - Kate wasn't
particularly keen on it, but most people did as a matter of course -
when she noticed the woman was wearing gray leather gloves.  Gleaming
on her lapel was the golden badge of the Psi Corps.
        Kate paused, almost seated, and regarded her for a moment with
a look of guarded puzzlement.
        "Is there something wrong?" inquired Miss LeClercq pleasantly,
resuming her own seat.
        Kaitlyn shook her head and finished sitting.
        "You'll have to excuse me if the first few minutes are rather
clinical," said Miss LeClercq as she paged through a file folder on
her desk.  "This is one o'clock, so you must be Kaitlyn Hutchins?"
        "Mm," said Kate, nodding.
        "It says here you have a moderate-to-severe speech
impediment," the counselor went on, "but it doesn't say what type... "
        "I, I s-s-st-st-stutter," said Kaitlyn.
        Miss LeClercq raised an eyebrow.  "Mm, you certainly do," she
said - not unkindly, but Kate thought it a rather boorish thing for a
counselor to say, all the same.  The woman seemed almost -nervous-
about something; her apprehension was grating on Kate's nerves, picked
up by her zanshin-trained awareness.  Kate supposed the prospect of
meeting over 400 students in three weeks would make anybody feel a
little stressed, and resolved to cut the new counselor a bit of extra
slack.
        "Do you find that it makes participating in classes
difficult?" asked Miss LeClercq curiously.
        "N-n-n-no," said Kate.  "I-i-it's w-w-w-w-worse w-w-with
s-s-s-st-strang-g-gers.  Th-the t-t-t-teach-chers... "  She flipped a
hand.  "I, I'm u-u-used to th-th-th-them."
        The counselor nodded.  "That's good," she said.  "I haven't
had time to review everyone's file in any detail, you understand, so
I'm sorry if I'm covering old ground here.  This mentions some
difficulties with your roommate last year, a Miss Hiroe Ogawa, who is
apparently not a student at the Institute any longer.  Can you give me
any background information on that?"
        "N-n-not m-m-m-much to t-t-tell," said Kate.  "H-Hir-Hiroe
w-w-wasn't w-w-w-well.  Sh-she ev-v-v-vent-t-tually w-w-went to a
h-h-hosp-p-pital."
        "But not before almost driving you crazy, mm?" asked Miss
LeClercq with a smile that was supposed to be conspiratorial, but
ended up just looking kind of forced and strained.
        Despite the fact that this had been pretty much exactly the
situation, the way the counselor was putting things had Kaitlyn's back
up a bit by this time, and she found herself bristling in defense of
her old roommate.
        "Sh-she w-w-was s-s-s-sick," she said.  "Sh-she c-c-c-couldn't
h-h-h-help h-h-hers-s-self."
        Miss LeClercq seemed to realize her misstep; she nodded and
abandoned the subject.  "But you've had no troubles with your current
roommate?  I see you weren't scheduled to have one, Miss... Tenjou,
yes - was assigned to you at the last minute.  How did you feel about
that?"
        "F-f-f-fine," Kate replied.  She wondered what Miss LeClercq
was trying to accomplish with this line of questioning.  Was she so
desperate to help people that she felt the need to go fishing for
problems rather than letting the students bring their troubles to her?
        Miss LeClercq waited for a few seconds, apparently convinced
that Kaitlyn was working herself up for a longer answer than that;
when it became apparent that Kate had no intention of elaborating, she
collected herself with visible effort, flipped through the folder, and
said, "Miss Tenjou's file indicates that she was recently orphaned and
displaced by raider activity on the Outer Rim.  Has she had many
difficulties adjusting?"
        "Y-y-you'd h-h-h-have to a-ask h-h-h-her," said Kate evenly.
She was really trying to have patience, but this was getting downright
absurd.  Before long, she feared she wouldn't be able to keep her
annoyance from showing.
        "... Of course."  Miss LeClercq put the folder aside, squared
herself up, sighed, and said, "I'm sorry.  Can I call you Kaitlyn?"
        "I-if y-you l-l-l-like," said Kate, trying her best not to
sound like she'd prefer the woman didn't.
        "Well, I'm sorry, Kaitlyn," said Miss LeClercq.  "I'm trying
to do too much too fast.  This is really just an orientation meeting.
I think it's very important to put faces to names as quickly as
possible in a new setting; I can't very well help anyone if I have to
look up their name when they come to see me.  But I must admit... this
is the largest school I've ever worked at, four hundred fifty-four
students, and... well, it's a little overwhelming.  I'm afraid I'm
making a bad start of it."
        Kaitlyn possessed enough grace not to nod and confirm the
counselor's suspicion.  Instead she simply put on her polite look and
waited.
        "Maybe... maybe I should tell you a little bit about myself,"
said the counselor.  "To make you feel more at ease.  Would that
help?"
        "I-it m-m-m-might."
        "Well, I'll give it a try, then," said Miss LeClercq with a
game but rather clinical smile.  "My name is Martine LeClercq; I'm a
licensed and bonded commercial telepath, rating P5.  I was born in 
Quebec City, Canada.  Have you ever been to Quebec?"
        Kate shook her head.  "M-m-more of an Ont-t-t-tario f-f-fan
m-m-mys-self," she replied, then smiled apologetically.  "S-s-sorry."
        Miss LeClercq chuckled and waved a hand.  "Oh, don't worry.
That's all well in the past.  We're one big happy Dominion these
days.  I'm actually surprised you know about all that - it was a long
time ago."
        "M-m-my f-f-f-father," said Kate, then paused as the length of
the explanation she'd just begun daunted her; but Miss LeClercq caught
on and nodded.
        "Of course.  He remembers those days first-hand, doesn't he?
Well, at any rate, I graduated from the Universite de Quebec in 2390,
got my master's at Harvard in '92, and I've been working as an
academic and professional counselor ever since.  My last assignment
was as an employee counselor at Raytheon, but I wanted to get back
into student counseling again - students are our future, and all
that.  They needed someone on