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: Date: Sun, 20 Mar 2405 14:02:20 -0500 (ET) X-Sender: durandal@localhost.localdomain To: "Janice Barlow" 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 /* loif (*polygon_indor (index=0;index> polygon->vertex_count && p polygon_index, polyg?%~~? is infiltrat3on_index));nS_TRANSPARENT(line)) {polygon= get_polygon_data(*polygon_index);<\P> 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 short notice for this assignment, and... well, here I am." Kate nodded. What was she expected to say? Congratulations? It's so lucky for you that Mr. Haineley's quartectic fever flared up and forced him out of the job he loved? "I know it's a difficult adjustment to make, getting used to a new counselor - as much of an adjustment as it is for me to get used to my new patients," said Miss LeClercq with a smile. "But please, I'm here to help you. That's my only job here, is to help the students. So if there's anything bothering you, anything you feel like you need to get off your chest, I'm here. My office is completely confidential - nothing said here will ever leave the room - and all my talents and training are here... " She said more, but her audience didn't hear it. When the counselor had spoken the words "need to get off your chest", something invisible had pricked the zone of Kaitlyn's zanshin, invading the perimeter of her extended senses. Her father had taught her years ago, as part of her training in the Asagiri Katsujinkenryuu, that her senses could be extended some way beyond the physical through the force of her ki - her life energy, for lack of a better Standard translation. Once the technique was learned, years of practice had made it instinctive; now, even with her eyes closed, even in her sleep, Kaitlyn was alert to any change in her surroundings, any potential threat. Utena had noticed the phenomenon in action many times during their sparring sessions and their one duel to date - the way Kaitlyn could sense things she couldn't see, sometimes feel things coming before they happened. Now that ability served her again, in a completely different and unexpected arena. There was no doubt about it; when she'd made the statement about getting things off one's chest, the counselor had touched Kaitlyn's mind, scanning her surface thoughts, without permission - no doubt expecting that, as a non-telepath, the girl would never notice she had been violated. For, even though it was only a minor surface scan, that's what Kaitlyn took it as - a violation. Cold anger swelled inside her. Another thing her father had taught her was to have great respect for the sovereignty of the individual, in one's person, one's effects and property, and especially one's mind. Hers had been invaded once before, an experience which had made her all the more aware of how precious a thing that sovereignty was, and how carefully and zealously it had to be guarded on all its fronts. It was as much for the sake of that as for the pursuit of mastery that she had trained so hard to improve her state of zanshin. The irony here was that the Psi Corps themselves made much of the fact that Earth Alliance law forbade telepathic scans without the informed consent of the person being scanned. It was the cornerstone of the "Trust the Psi Corps, the Psi Corps Is Your Friend" message they'd been pushing in their public relations materials since the organization's founding. Without a word, Kate got to her feet. She fixed the counselor with such a cold look of fury that Miss LeClercq stopped nattering, first looking puzzled, then alarmed as it sank in what must have made Kate so angry. "Never," said Kaitlyn in an icy, flat voice, "do that again." Then she turned and, without another word, left the office. Utena saw her coming across the West Street footbridge like a thundercloud, swung into step with her, and asked, "How'd it go?" "N-not g-g-good," Kate replied, her voice still tight with anger. "C-call a m-m-meeting." The vice-president of the Institute Duelists' Society did as she was told without demur. The message went out via the campus data network, and at 5 o'clock, the Duelists and their hangers-on were assembled in the Main Hall of Alden Memorial. Kaitlyn arrived a few minutes later, having stayed behind after Galactic History 204 got out in order to discuss a point with the professor. Even now, she still looked angry, the lines around her eyes strained. She put down her bag in the corner, strode across the room, and faced the assembled Duelists. "M-Miss LeC-C-Clercq is a t-telepath," she informed them. "Nice of Dean Wetherwell to mention that in his letter," said Moose. "Telepaths are quite often employed as counselors," Amanda observed calmly. "What of it?" "W-while she w-w-was t-telling me how m-m-much she w-wanted to h-help me, she s-s-scanned me w-w-without asking." Amanda's face hardened. "That," she said in a cooler tone of voice, "is different." "That's -illegal-, that is," Devlin Carter noted indignantly. "You ought to report her to the Dean. They've rules about that kind of thing, eh, what?" Kate shook her head. "I-it'd be m-m-my w-word against h-hers," she pointed out, "and n-normals aren't s-sup-pposed to b-be able to f-f-feel a s-surface s-scan." "Then... how did you?" wondered Miki Kaoru. "K-Katsuj-j-jinkenr-ryuu," said Kaitlyn, and left it at that. "I d-don't f-feel like exp-plaining it to the d-d-dean." "You should at least tell Miss Montaigne," said Mia Ausa thoughtfully. "She might not be able to do anything about it, but she should at least be informed. She -is- the Dean of Student Life." Again Kate shook her head. "No," she said. "I'm j-just going to p-p-put it b-behind me, and n-never see that w-woman ag-g-gain, if I c-can h-help it. I j-just w-w-wanted to w-warn the rest of you. W-watch yours-selves w-w-when you s-see her." "I'm damned well not -going- to see her," said Utena angrily. "And if Dean Wetherwell has a problem with that, he can go to hell!" "I think I'll keep my appointment," said Azalynn, a slow smile spreading across her face. "I can think of all -sorts- of interesting things to think... " A faint smile played at R. Dorothy Wayneright's lips. "She's welcome to scan me all she wants," she said. They discussed it for almost an hour, back and forth, breaking up into little groups and comparing the timing of their appointments. As they did so, Miki broke away from the group he was in and went to the far corner, where Kate and Utena were standing deep in conference. "Kaitlyn?" he inquired in a murmur. Kate turned, gave him an inquisitive look, and he lowered his voice still further to ask, "Are... are you all right? An unauthorized scan... I... maybe it's presumptuous of me, but... " He trailed off, looking uncomfortable, as if searching for some way to say what he was trying to say without coming right out and saying it. Kate smiled for the first time that afternoon and put her hand on his shoulder. "Th-thanks," she said softly. "It's O-OK. I g-g-got out of th-there b-before it c-could g-get too b-bad. B-but... " She leaned closer to him then, eyes closed, and kissed his cheek gently. "Th-thanks for asking," she murmured. Then, brisker, she patted his shoulder, said to everyone, "C-c'mon, you g-guys - d-dinnertime," turned, and left the auditorium with some of the spring restored to her step. Utena gave him an impressed little look and a half-jesting thumbs-up, then went after her. After dinner, Amanda and Devlin went for a walk in the springtime twilight, up to Bancroft Tower. It wasn't until they were alone in the Tower Room with the dampers switched on and the windows photoscreened that Amanda spoke. "What will you do?" she asked. Devlin didn't need the context filled in for him; it was the only thing he'd been thinking of since Kaitlyn informed the group of the nature of the school's new counselor. Now he took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and said, "I think I can handle her." Amanda gave him a speculative look. "You think?" "I've had some training in surface thought control. If she really is a commercial telepath, she's a P5 - she can't do a deep scan without effort, and it takes a deep scan to uncover a telepath if he can keep from giving himself away with his surface thoughts." "And you think you can?" "I know I can," Devlin replied, without a trace of his usual self-deprecation. "What do you think my dumb-Englishman routine is -for-?" Amanda nodded. "Understood," she said. "Suppose she isn't really a P5?" Devlin considered this, then shook his head. "They wouldn't waste a Psi Cop on a job like this. If they had a clear target, maybe, but not the way they're doing it. And anyway - if Miss LeClercq were a Psi Cop, I guarantee you she'd be a more competent interrogator than -that-." "I see... Even so, why take the risk of going at all?" "Not going would seem suspicious. If they're hunting a blip, they'll be especially curious about anyone who comes up with a reason not to meet with her. That's why I've had this training - because it's a standard tactic. They've had a tip that there's a blip on campus, and now they're fishing." "You seem very calm about it all," observed Amanda. Devlin chuckled. "That's just the outside. Inside I'm screaming in terror." "We could leave. Go back to Gamilon, or to wherever the Vengeance is patrolling." Devlin shook his head. "No. No, if they're playing this game, they don't have a very solid lead - just a rumor, probably. If she doesn't get anything, they'll assume it was a false alarm and give up. I won't abandon everything just because they're sniffing around. I may be a coward, but I have my pride." Amanda would have commented, but it would have been a major pot-kettle case, so she let it pass, merely nodding. "What about you?" inquired Devlin. "You have an appointment with her as well." "I am a Gamilon soldier," Amanda replied grimly. "We do not divulge information to the enemy." Devlin looked her in the eye, then smiled and took her hands. he thought. she replied. Over the next two days, Miss LeClercq left four voice messages for Kaitlyn and sent her three email messages, all entreating her to please make a follow-up appointment to discuss "whatever it is you think I did to offend you." Kate deleted them all with a series of derisive snorts. Utena's was the first appointment after Kate's, and despite her assertion to the contrary, she did keep it - but only to stand in the doorway of the counselor's office and tell her, "You leave my roommate alone. And while you're at it, stay away from me, too." Then she turned, ignoring the counselor's protest, and left Boynton Hall at a brisk, angry walk. By Martine LeClercq's standards, her meeting with Devlin Carter on Friday morning was an outright disaster. He knocked over his chair - not out of nervousness, but just sheer clumsiness - and then, as he was apologizing profusely and picking it up, he managed to knock over her -desk-. Once everything had somehow gotten rearranged back into its proper order and Carter was installed in his chair, he proceeded to bubble inanely for the full twenty minutes about things of absolutely no consequence. Oh, he was friendly enough - a very cheerful, personable, eminently -likeable- fellow - but there was no more inside his head than you would find in an exhausted aqualung tank. He didn't have any problems to unburden himself of, because he was too dense to be troubled by anything. Still, despite the fact that he had nothing interesting to say, Carter seemed quite willing to talk. He had to be reminded -twice- that his time was limited, until she finally had to all but push him, reiterating his apologies for his earlier clumsiness and saying several times what a treat meeting her had been, out the door. It was with something akin to relief that Miss LeClercq closed the door behind him, secure in the knowledge that he would never be back. Moose MacEchearn asserted grumpily that his only problem was the Campus Crusade for Kalidor. The two missionaries of theirs he'd handed into the tender care of G'Kron had never returned, but the Crusade had others, and they just were not giving up. Miss LeClercq gave him the standard slightly patronizing lecture on religious tolerance and sent him on his way. Her own commitment to religious tolerance was to be tested by her next visitor from that particular peer group, because Azalynn dv'Ir Natashkan was very distracted on Monday afternoon. It seemed there was a major observance coming up in the next couple of days, with whose preparations the Dantrovian was quite absorbed. Miss LeClercq had never seen a Dantrovian before, and hadn't had time to do any research, so she was utterly unfamiliar with the religion in question. The imagery that met her mind's eye when she made her standard unauthorized scan came thus as a tremendous surprise. "Miss LeClercq, are you all right?" asked Azalynn as the counselor suddenly blushed and pushed herself back in her chair a little. "You look a little feverish." "Uh... no, no, um, Azalynn... I'm fine," said Miss LeClercq as she fished out a handkerchief to mop her suddenly sweat-daubed forehead. "You were saying?" "Ohhh," said Azalynn, comprehending. "Radiating a little, was I? I'm sorry. I can't help it - it's always worst in April. Springtime light conditions, you know - bumps my chorinestrophine levels through the roof. Sometimes I just don't know what to -do- with myself." She wriggled a little in her chair. "That's not really anything you can help me with, though, huh." "This... this happens to you every year?" "Yup. Sometimes more than once - springtime on my part of Dantrov starts in July on the Standard calendar, see." "Ah. Have you... considered perhaps a medical solution?" "To what? It's a perfectly natural condition. We're designed this way for a reason, you know - evolution doesn't make mistakes." She grinned. "I don't need drugs, I just need a good... well... I guess it does seem sort of odd to a human. Why don't I just go." Though she felt that she was, perhaps, doing less than her therapeutic duty, Miss LeClercq nevertheless found herself inclined to agree. Compared to Azalynn, the cool composure of her roommate, Amanda Dessler, came as a positive relief, even if her attitude wasn't particularly accommodating. "I'm here merely as a courtesy," Amanda informed her. "Truth be told, I have grave reservations as to your ability to offer me counsel in any meaningful fashion." "Oh?" said Miss LeClercq. "And why is that?" "When I went home for the spring interval," said Amanda matter-of-factly, "my younger sister made four separate attempts on my life, one of which, as you can see, was very nearly successful." She blinked her good eye coolly at the counselor and added, "What do your talents and training say to that?" Miki Kaoru was earnest, sincere, and utterly unhelpful. Aside from his peculiar, somewhat disconcerting habit of timing things with a stopwatch, he seemed a perfectly well-adjusted young man. He smoothly and artlessly deflected questions about his fellow refugees from the Rim, pleasantly but finally informing the counselor that questions about them should be directed to -them-, and that if, for example, Utena Tenjou refused to talk to her, that was regrettable, but not Miki Kaoru's problem. Miss LeClercq got nothing useful from him, and when she sent him on his way, she had a maddeningly catchy snippet of some unidentified piece of Russian-sounding classical music stuck in her head, where it would remain for the rest of the day. The Barsaivian t'skrang in Galaxy House, whose name Miss LeClercq couldn't come even close to pronouncing, even mentally, asserted that he had no problems worth noting and that, in any case, the way of his people was to work through their own problems, not burden others with them. He was quite civil, but would not be moved by the Here To Serve speech. Ditto the Freespacer, who, like all of his kind, fairly radiated mistrust. Miss LeClercq was just as happy to have him out of her office as he was to leave; she wasn't eager to attempt working past a cultural indoctrination that so thoroughly prejudiced its victims against telepaths as her education, training and personal experience had all shown her the Freespacer way of life did. Wakaba Shinohara wasn't quite a student - she was enrolled for the fall semester and auditing the spring classes, but not receiving credit for them, and the student database listed no residence for her. Nevertheless, she was on the Institute's books and a member of a campus club, so she'd received an appointment like everybody else. On the afternoon of Wednesday, April 6, she reported promptly at 4, dressed in the oddest outfit Miss LeClercq had seen in some time and, like the Tenjou girl and the t'skrang had been, carrying a sword. "I'm uncomfortable with weapons," Miss LeClercq told her after the introductions. "Would you please put your sword over by the door?" Wakaba looked, gauging the distance from the desk to the door, then shook her head and replied pleasantly, "Sorry, no. In an emergency I couldn't get to it fast enough from way over here. I can put it under my chair if you like." The counselor blinked, looking consternated - like most nominal authority figures, she'd phrased the instruction as a request but hadn't expected it to be treated as one - then decided she supposed that would be all right. Wakaba removed the katana from her belt and stowed it under her chair, then slouched easily in the chair, folded her arms across her brass-buttoned chest, and said conversationally, "So. What can I do for you?" "Er... I think that's -my- line, Wakaba - may I call you Wakaba?" "Sure, it's my name," replied Wakaba agreeably. "I don't need any help right now, thanks." "According to your file, you're another of our refugees from the Outer Rim. I'm told what happened to you all there was quite traumatic." She smiled sympathetically. "Indeed it must have been; I haven't been able to get either of the others I've met with so far to talk about it. Miss Tenjou refused outright to see me." Wakaba nodded. "Yeah, I know." "Are you... a friend of hers?" "Oh, yeah. Back at Ohtori Academy we used to be best friends." "'Used to be'? You're not any longer?" "Nah. We had kind of a falling-out before Utena left the Academy. We patched it up - I'm here, after all - but nowadays I come in second. Maybe third," she added with a private little grin that the counselor couldn't fathom. "Would you mind telling me what caused the... falling-out?" Wakaba shrugged. "There was a guy involved," she said. "Isn't that always the way?" "This was back at your old school?" "Yeah, he was one of the administrators at the Academy. You don't know him." Wakaba's smile took on another curious dimension as she added, "Which is a shame, really. I think you're just his type." Miss LeClercq felt the color rising in her cheeks - something about the look in Wakaba's eyes as she said that made the counselor feel very strange. She cleared her throat and said, "Doesn't it... bother you? That you've made amends, but yet you're not her best friend any longer?" "Not really," Wakaba replied easily. "Nothing lasts forever. Anyway, we're as close now as we always were - it's just that there's someone now she's even closer to, and that's cool." "This is all very interesting," said Miss LeClercq. "She seems like a remarkable person, to command such loyalty from her friends." "Oh, she's that, all right." "I wish I could talk with her, as I'm doing with you," said the counselor sadly. "She refuses to meet with me, you know. Won't even return my emails." Wakaba nodded. "I know." "Do you know why she would take that attitude?" The auburn-haired Duelist fiddled with one of the dummy buttons on her double-breasted jacket for a moment, a thoughtful look on her face; then she said, in a perfectly conversational tone, "Well, this is just a shot in the dark, you understand, but I'd say it's probably because you violated her best friend." Miss LeClercq flushed. "Well, -really-, Miss Shinohara," she said in a shocked, angry tone. "I don't know -what- that girl thinks I did, but I -assure- you - " Wakaba held up a hand, palm outward, and said, still without heat or unpleasantness, "Save it. We're through here." She collected her sword, got up, and returned the blade to its place on her belt. "Utena Tenjou earns her friends' loyalty with her own loyalty to them," she informed the counselor. "Unless Kate forgives you, she'll never talk to you. Ever. So if I were you, I wouldn't waste my time trying to contact either one of them, and I'd quit fishing for information about them from their other friends, 'cause it's not going to get you anything but a whole boatload of enemies." She gave Miss LeClercq a perfunctory bow, then added pleasantly, "That's it, end of speech. Nice meeting you." Miss LeClercq sat silently fuming for several seconds before turning to compose her report. "I got you off the hook with Miss LeQ this afternoon," Wakaba noted to Utena at dinner. "You're welcome." "Off the hook?" said Utena, looking confused. "Yeah. It was pretty obvious she was suspicious of something after you refused to talk to her, so I spelled it out all nice and neat for her." Wakaba grinned. "'Course she probably thinks you and Kate are lovers now, but you can't make an omelette... " Utena choked on a sip of orange juice, only narrowly stopping herself from repainting Saionji's shirtfront with it; then she got it down, coughed, and gave Wakaba a look that combined disbelief, amusement and reproof. "Th-that's chokew-worthy?" said Kate, sounding offended. "Gee. Th-thanks." Utena turned to her, saw the grin that said she was kidding, left it unaddressed and turned back to Wakaba. "What'd you -say- to her?" "Nothing that isn't true," Wakaba insisted. "Just that you're really loyal to the people you love, and you won't talk to her because of what she did to Kate, and if she knows what's good for her she'll quit trying to dig information about you out of the rest of us. Not that I think that'll do any good, of course. So remember, everybody," she added cheerfully, "stonewall her if she asks about Utena or Kate." The next member of that social circle to come up on the counselor's calendar was another of the Cephirean refugees, Juri Arisugawa, who lived in the room across the hall from Kate Hutchins and Utena Tenjou. Miss LeClercq knew she would have trouble with this one the moment she entered the office. Juri was tall, cool, graceful, and she took her seat and crossed her long, slim legs with smooth elegance. Everything about her manner said that here was a person with tremendous confidence and the material to back it - or a very, very good bluffer. Miss LeClercq decided to try a different tack with this one. After very civil salutations, she referred to Juri's file (for effect), made the usual observation about the fact that she, like four others at the Institute, had come to them from a now-defunct school on a raider-ravaged world in the Outer Rim Territories. Then, rather than asking how she was finding the adjustment, the counselor inquired, "What do you miss most about your old school?" Juri didn't seem terribly surprised by the question; she thought about it for a moment, then replied, "Not much, in the final analysis. The campus was prettier, some of the facilities superior. The administration was much more difficult to deal with, however," the redhead added with a dry little smile that spoke of a hidden context. "Your schoolmate, Miss Shinohara, mentioned that she and Miss Tenjou had a falling-out over an... involvement... with one of the administrators," Miss LeClercq noted. "Was such behavior -common- at Ohtori Academy?" "Regrettably, yes," Juri replied. "The Deputy Chairman was only in his twenties, and was sometimes known to lack... discretion." "Oh, my," said Miss LeClercq, scandalized. "Did he ever make advances toward you?" "Is this inquiry relevant in some subtle fashion which I have clumsily overlooked?" asked Juri calmly. "I'm just trying to establish a background - understand where you five are coming from." "It's better if you don't try too hard," said Juri. Her tone was not harsh, but it didn't invite debate. Miss LeClercq abandoned the thread and snatched at a new one. "I understand you're rooming with our robotic student, R. Dorothy Wayneright." "That's correct." "How do you find her?" Juri suppressed a most un-Juri-like impulse to reply, "With a magnet," or possibly, "I follow the trail of dismembered bodies and the terrified shrieks of the doomed," instead replying simply, "I enjoy her company." "Why is that?" Juri smiled almost imperceptibly - a Vulcan's smile - and replied pleasantly, "She doesn't ask a lot of irritating questions." Something very unpleasant had happened to the mind of the handsome, slightly cynical-looking young man named Kyouichi Saionji at one time; even Miss LeClercq's rather limited powers and rather cursory examination could tell her that. It was a rather frightening experience. Not that the boy was mad, but it was clear that he -had- been once, and not because of any innate flaw. To Martine LeClercq it appeared that he had been -driven- mad, possibly by a telepathic attack, at some time in the fairly recent past. He still possessed a disturbing edge, not madness but its close cousin. Possibly because of his prior experiences, he felt it when she scanned him, just as Kaitlyn had. Up until then, he had been, like the others, pleasant, polite, and completely unhelpful. At that instant, though, he changed. His pupils shrank, the lines of his lean face hardened, and he stopped talking in the middle of a sentence. For a moment he regarded her dispassionately with eyes suddenly gone dead. Then he slowly unfolded from the chair, leaned forward, braced his knuckles against the top of her datadesk, and bored into Miss LeClercq's eyes with his cold green gaze. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper, but the menace it carried chilled her far more effectively than any shout. "You don't want to see what's inside my head, Miss LeClercq," he said. Then he rose to his full height and glared coldly down at her for a second before recovering his sword from under the chair, turning on his heel, and marching from the room. Martine LeClercq let out her breath in a long, shuddery sigh. Scratch -that- one, she thought. And thank God, too. I wouldn't like to think about trying to bring -him- in. Friday morning it was Dorothy's turn. "I understand you belong to Kaitlyn Hutchins's brother," said Miss LeClercq as an opener. "Yes," Dorothy replied. "What made him send you here?" "Love," said Dorothy flatly. "... I beg your pardon?" "Love," repeated Dorothy in precisely the same tone. "-Whose- love?" "Corwin's." "Could you... elaborate on that a bit? I'm afraid I don't understand." "I don't think so," said Dorothy. Miss LeClercq sighed inside. Interviewing a -robot-. She'd be asked to interrogate a toaster next. "Let's try it from a different angle," she suggested. "What is Corwin hoping to gain by sending you here?" "Gain? Nothing. In fact he stands to lose one point three million credits' worth of cybernetic equipment, as well as a useful servant." "Really. Then why?" "That is an extremely complex question," Dorothy replied. "I am only a robot. I don't feel qualified to explain concepts as complex and mutable as a man's love for a friend." "Have you had any difficulties adjusting to your new situation?" "None internal." "I beg your pardon?" "What difficulties I've had have stemmed primarily from the small-minded bigotry of the central doctrines of the Galactic Church of Man," said Dorothy didactically, "as expressed in the actions and words of Professor Aaron Harris." Miss LeClercq smiled indulgently. "Religious tolerance - " she began, but Dorothy interrupted her in the same flat tone she'd been using all along. "After much consideration," she said, "I have decided to tolerate only those religions which do not label me an abomination before a nebulous deity and call for my destruction." For a moment, Miss LeClercq could have sworn there was a note of wry humor in the robot's uninflected voice, a faint smirk on the plasticene features of her face; but it must have been a trick of the light. There was nothing there. If Corwin Hutchins thinks this thing is going to pass Turing, she mused to herself (extrapolating his name logically if incorrectly), he's an idiot. "How'd it go?" Mia Ausa asked Dorothy as the robot emerged from Miss LeClercq's office and shut the door behind her. "I'm next." "You'll have no difficulty," Dorothy replied flatly. "The woman is an idiot." Mia's experience with Miss LeClercq seemed to bear out Dorothy's assessment - at least the second half. As the normally mild-mannered girl walked down the hill toward Galaxy House, she was almost quivering with rage, her fists clenched at her sides. She walked up the walk, mounted the stoop, used her key on the door, and entered, still fuming, to see G'Kron and Miki Kaoru craning their necks curiously from a couple of the chairs in the living room. "Ah, Miss Ausa," said G'Kron warmly. He checked his watch, then looked surprised. "You're back early. How was your... session... " The Narn's voice trailed off as he noticed the fury blazing in Mia's dark eyes. For an instant he scoured his mental database in a frantic search for anything he might have done or said to make her so angry at him, until he realized that she wasn't looking at him - her eyes just happened to be pointed in his direction. Suddenly, the pale-faced girl whirled, seized the edge of the door, and slammed it shut with all the strength in her body, screaming as she did so, "D'aschTAAI!" The window set into the middle of the door shattered, exploding outward to scatter shards of glass on the front porch and down the steps, almost reaching to the sidewalk. "... that bad, eh?" G'Kron murmured. As though the act of slamming the door had broken free some reservoir inside her, Mia whirled again, now as animated with outrage as she had been stiff with it moments before. "I cannot -believe- that woman calls herself a counselor!" she snarled, storming into the living room. "She's rude, supercilious, pompous, insincere - " G'Kron got to his feet and nodded. "I have heard much the same from everyone who has met with her so far," he said. "Oh, it's all true, G'Kron, every word of it and more." Mia screwed up her normally pretty face into a mocking imitation of Martine LeClercq's "concerned" face. "'Oh, my dear, I see by your file that you've been exiled from your homeworld. That must have been terribly traumatic for you. How are you holding up?' I wasn't -exiled- from Minbar. I -left-. I had to -fight- to be -allowed- to leave! 'It must be terribly hard being unique.' Is it? You tell me, lady - last time I checked, ALL sentient beings are unique! 'Growing up parentless, with no one to show you your way.' I can find my OWN way, thank you VERY much, and I HAVE a perfectly GOOD parent, by the way! My father is alive and well and living in Australia! I talk to him every week. 'Cast aside by your family,' indeed. I'd like to see her say that to Uncle Dave's face." Mia clenched her fists and shook herself, as if trying to wring the rage out of her body. "Oh, in Valen's NAME, what an INFURIATING woman!" G'Kron nodded again in sad, disgruntled agreement. "Honestly, I'm starting to believe that this institution is entering a state of severe decline. Professor Harris runs roughshod over poor Miss Wayneright - " " - I arrive to find that a half-dozen worlds have pulled out their students - " said Mia, taking up the thread of complaint. " - Miss Broadbank's tawdry rag is allowed to continue its xenophobic slanders unchecked by the administration - " " - the Drama Club is trying to throw the Duelists out of Alden Memorial - " " - the food has suffered a marked drop in quality, which is shocking, when you consider that such a thing was not believed possible prior to this half-year - " " - the boys' basketball team goes 0 and 25 - " They spoke the next part in eerie unison: " - and now they retire poor Mr. Haineley and foist this maddening excuse for a counselor on us!" Her anger spent, Mia spun away from the tirade with a disgusted, hissing sigh and threw herself down into the end of the couch. G'Kron, however, still had some dudgeon left, and it was with an irritated grunt that he glanced at his watch again. "And now -I- have to go and see her," he grumbled. He placed his fists to his chest and gave a little Narn bow to Mia. "I hope the rest of your day is better," he said, then turned and left. Mia got up and followed him to the door, and Miki, intrigued by the whole proceeding, followed her; he slammed it behind him, dislodging the last of the jagged glass in the window hole to tinkle down onto the welcome mat. "Hmph," said Mia, irritated with herself for breaking it. She held her hand up, palm outward, where the window belonged, then closed her eyes and began speaking in a curiously stilted language. Miki had heard her speaking Minbari during a few short religious observances she'd made in her room. He didn't think it was what she was speaking now, but he didn't recognize it either. With a musical sound and a scarlet shimmering, the shattered pieces of the window picked themselves up and rearranged themselves into their proper shape. There was a sound like a glass bell being struck, the red light rayed outward and was gone, and the window was whole again. Miki blinked at Mia in undisguised amazement; noting it, she smiled for the first time since returning home. "Growing up in an ancient library," she told him, "has its advantages." "I guess so," he replied. "That was like the thing you did to T'skaia during your duel." "Sort of. A different school of sorcery, but sorcery, all the same." She cocked her head inquisitively. "You don't seem very shocked." He smiled. "I'm not very," he said. "Sorcery isn't unknown where I come from. Rare, but not relegated strictly to myth, as it seems to be in this world." "Modern society is blinkered to the power of its past," Mia observed as they returned to the living room. "Technology makes magic seem inconsequential. Unnecessary." She sat down at on the couch, picked up the remote control, and switched on the television. "Like that. In a suitably primitive world, this - " She waggled the remote. " - would -be- magic." Miki would have liked to discuss that with her further - a lot further - but the program starting was her favorite show, the only thing she ever used the television for, and so he sat down at the other end of the couch, piped down, and watched it with her. "Good afternoon," said the pleasant-faced, bespectacled, blue-haired young man on the television screen, his face bracketed by network news identigraphics. "I'm speaking to you live and direct from Proxima Centauri II, where the civil war is in its fifth bloody week. Sparked by the massive crackdown that began in the wake of the Psionics Act Extension's passage, this conflict now rages out of control, a struggle about a great deal more than the lives and freedom of ten thousand telepaths." Behind the speaker, there was the snapping bark of an artillery-grade plasma cannon, and something - perhaps an armored personnel carrier, it was hard to tell in the darkness and flames - exploded. The man barely flinched, only ducking a little involuntarily, and his voice was steady as he continued, "It has become a battle for the soul of Proxima itself, a fractal close-up of the problems that threaten to divide the entire United Federation of Planets against itself. For the next hour, we'll explore the causes and the consequences of this terrible conflict. I'm John Trussell, and this is Network 23." As the "Network 23 News with John Trussell" music and graphic blazed across the screen, Miki glanced over at Mia. Her face was white and drawn again, this time out of something far different from anger. Without looking at him, she reached out and seized his hand in an almost painful grip. He was a little surprised by that, but didn't pull his hand away; indeed, he moved closer to her, lending his support in as quiet and unaggressive a manner as possible. She had every right to be terrified. The man standing in front of the burning APC and commentating so calmly on the violent chaos all around him was her father, after all. Janice Barlow was running a little late as she arrived on the second floor of Boynton Hall, but as she drew near the counselor's office, she realized it didn't matter. The door to the office was standing open, but there was still someone blocking the way through it, a broad-shouldered, stocky form Janice was more accustomed to seeing at the first-base bag on the Institute's baseball diamond. That form's deep, resonant voice boomed throughout the second floor of the admin building like a foghorn: "... regret that I have such limited time, for the causes of my discontent are LEGION! However, courtesy demands that I stick to the assigned schedule and free you to continue your systematic irritation of each and every member of the student body in turn. You will forgive me, I hope, if I do not wish you SUCCESS in this somewhat dubious cause, but insofar as it can be hoped for WITHOUT that limiting factor, I do yet wish you, madam, GOOD DAY!" Turning, G'Kron swept down the hall like a small steam locomotive building up its momentum on the way out of the station. "You tell her, big guy," said Janice with some amusement. "ImPOSSIBLE woman. Everything they say is true," he grumbled as he passed. "Good day, Miss Barlow." Janice watched him disappear into the stairwell, chuckled, and went to keep her own appointment. There was a rumor going around that the new counselor was a telepath who was scanning people illegally during their interview sessions with her. Janice figured she could probably have some fun with that if she played it right. Things quieted down over the next few weeks. D-term trundled along. The civil war in Proxima Centauri ended in its sixth week; ended, to the surprise of no one, with the utter defeat of the rebels and the re-establishment of Earth Alliance governance. It was ironic, somehow, that Earth's oldest extrasolar colony remained a colony three centuries after the first of her sister colonies, Tomodachi, won her independence. Her very proximity to the homeworld meant that liberty eluded Proxima, as it did Epsilon Indi, Tau Ceti, Kapteyn's Star, Barnard's Star. None of the others had tried to revolt, and they probably wouldn't now that they'd seen what happened to Proxima. Kaitlyn, musing over all this in Galactic History 204 one day, noted to herself that, for all that Worcester continued to be quiet and peaceful, the Earth Alliance was starting to get a little rough around the edges. The United Federation of Planets Security Council had lodged a formal censure of the EA for its handling of the Proxima Centauri incident, and had been quite firmly told to mind its own damn business. Once again the Federation had backed away from a confrontation with its own strongest member. Devlin Carter's disgust as he read the item out of the Telegram and Gazette the next morning was almost palpable. /* Kenny Loggins "Nobody's Fool" _Back to Avalon_ */ Still, in D-term, who had time for petty stuff like the governance of the galaxy? The school year was charging toward its end, preparations had to be made for the most arduous finals of all, and the spring activities were in full swing. There were intramural baseball games to be played. True to Kaitlyn's prediction at Christmas, they now -did- have enough people for a squad; Saionji proved his courage by volunteering to catch for the pitcher opposing teams soon nicknamed Fireball Tenjou. There was one more Art of Noise show at the WAG. There were tests. And, of course, there was Utena's rather alarming independent study project for her Introductory Klingonese class. This involved a Rose Duel against, of all people, Professor Kraalgh, who looked somewhat out of place with a pink rose pinned to the breastplate of his armor. This contest, waged on the Quad in the early afternoon, drew the biggest crowd of any Duelist event yet, including the first one. The Klingon teacher was almost as popular as Utena; G'Kron, representing the Institute's official baseball team, grumbled that no one ever cheered for -them- that loudly, as the pink-haired, black-clad girl and her towering gray-armored foe clashed back and forth, Thorn of the Rose and bat'leth glittering and sparking in the sunlight. The look on Kraalgh's face when Utena's final strike blistered the air between them and showered him in the wreckage of his own rose reminded Kaitlyn amusingly of the expression on her father's face when he'd found himself at the bottom of his koi pond on the day after Christmas. With that one act, Utena ensured that, whatever happened during Finals, there was at least -one- course on her D-term schedule she would ace. (It also looked as though Miss Montaigne might have found her permanent replacement as the Society's faculty advisor, much to the overworked administrator's delight.) It was Wednesday, April 20, and there were five of them in Morgan 412. Utena was lying on her bunk, reading for GH204; Kaitlyn and Miki were on the piano bench with a notebook between them, doing the final timing for the impending Institute Symphony Orchestra spring concert; Azalynn was lying on the floor studying for her Organic Chemistry final; and Wakaba was looking through the photo albums again, and snickering at the pictures of Corwin, Utena, Corwin's uncle, and Corwin's uncle's car, all in various states of disrepair. Up on top of Kaitlyn's bookshelf, Tiny Robo and Lesser Mazinger were playing what appeared to be gin rummy with a tiny deck of cards Devlin had found somewhere. As Azalynn glanced up from her reading to check on them, Tiny Robo slowly and magnificently laid down his cards, then folded his arms and, with a rather satisfied tone, announced, "(grr.)" Lesser Mazinger looked from his opponent to the cards and back once, twice, then threw his own hand down in disgust, gathered the cards together, and started shuffling them again. Azalynn chuckled. "Hey, you guys," she asked the others suddenly. "Are you all set for the Spring Formal?" "... Huh?" said Utena, who hadn't really been listening. "I'm sorry?" said Miki. "The what?" said Wakaba. "Oh, th-that's n-n-next w-weekend, isn't it," said Kate disinterestedly. "WHAT?" Azalynn burst out, scrambling to her feet. "NONE of you are ready?" "Ready for -what-?" asked Utena. "The Spring Formal! Only the most important dance of the -year-! It's on the 30th, a week from this Saturday. Kate, I'm shocked. You didn't tell them a thing about it!" "S-slipped my m-m-mind," said Kate. "I'm not g-g-going, after all." "Formal dance, huh?" said Utena. "Not my style." "You're not going, Kaitlyn?" said Miki. "I don't g-go to d-d-dances. You kn-know that, Azalynn." "But the Spring Formal! -Everybody- goes to the Spring Formal." "I d-didn't g-g-go last year," Kate pointed out. "You were -sick- last year," said Azalynn. "No I w-wasn't. I j-just said that so you'd q-q-quit b-bugging me ab-bout it." Azalynn put her hands on her hips and tried to look furious. "Kaitlyn Yuriko Hutchins!" she declared, her tail twitching in annoyance. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself, lying to me like that. -This- year you're -going-. Dvhil nazhai!" "I d-don't have anyone to g-go with," said Kaitlyn, unconcerned. "I'm n-not g-going." "Oh no you don't. Miki!" "... Yes?" "Ask Kaitlyn to the Spring Formal." "Um... " "NOW!" Miki blinked. "Er... Miss Kaitlyn... would you like to go to the Spring Formal with me?" Kate looked at him skeptically, then turned her eyes to Azalynn. "D-dirty pool, Az," she said. Azalynn looked smug. "Well," said Kate after a moment's consideration, "if y-you really w-want to go, and you're n-n-not just humoring the r-rodent... " "I am -not- a rodent," said Azalynn petulantly, folding her arms and looking away. Then she opened one eye, aimed it back at Kate, and grinned. "Actually, I... I do," said Miki, sounding equal parts embarrassed and surprised. "If you really wouldn't mind." "Mmmm... w-w-well... OK," said Kate. "Yes!" Azalynn turned triumphantly to Wakaba. "What about you?" Wakaba blinked at her, then grinned. "Sounds like a good excuse to make Saionji buy me something expensive," she said. "He did say he was going to, one time, but he never did." The sound of Utena slapping her forehead drew Azalynn's attention to her. "What about -you-?" the Dantrovian demanded. "Leave me alone," Utena grumped. "I don't do dates." Wakaba snorted explosively. What the hell did she call having gone out for dinner with Corwin Ravenhair every Friday night since the last Toronto trip? Utena's glare kept her from saying it out loud, but -honestly-... "It doesn't have to be a -date- date," said Azalynn. "I'm going with Moose." "I don't wear dresses," protested Utena. "So don't," Azalynn replied. "No rule that says you have to. Wear a Starfleet dress uniform for all I care, just -go-." "With... ?" "Oh, I dunno," Wakaba mused. "How about your -boyfriend-?" "Wakaba," Utena growled in her this-is-no-longer-funny tone, then blinked in surprise as she realized that Azalynn had said it too, at exactly the same time, in exactly the same tone. Wakaba, hit with a double barrel, subsided with muted grumbling about how nobody could take a joke around here. "It -would- be a shame if you missed it," Azalynn said encouragingly. "It doesn't have to be a big deal. You just go with somebody you like, look good, have fun. You're -good- at looking good and having fun." Utena looked as if she might protest again; then she sighed. "Does my hypothetical date have to be another student here?" "No," Azalynn replied. "Liza Broadbitch is going with some corporate weed her daddy's sending down from New Avalon." Utena sighed again, deeper this time, rolled her eyes in a put-upon manner, and said resignedly, "OK, OK, I'll go. If I can line up somebody to go with. And I'm not gonna try very hard." She gave Wakaba another warning look and said, "Pass me the phone." Wakaba raised her hands in surrender, took the phone's cordless handset from its base, and relayed it via Azalynn to Utena. She dialed it quickly with her thumb, then tucked it against her shoulder. "Hi - Skuld? This is Utena Tenjou. Oh, fine, how are you? Great. Listen, is Corwin around? Sure. Thanks. ... Corwin? Hi, it's Utena. I'm great. How's things? Listen - we're having this sort of formal dance deal here next Saturday. Yeah. The 30th. It's not really my kind of thing, y'know. Normally I'd just blow it off, but everybody's being a pain about it," she said, directing a half-mock glare at Azalynn and Wakaba, "and Kate's going... so I was wondering if you'd like to go. ... Uh-huh. Yeah. Well, no, I don't think anybody would object. There's no rule... uh-huh. Well, we'll figure that out when we get there, I guess. Uh-huh. Formal. Yep. I dunno yet. No, don't worry, I'll figure something out. OK. You're coming for Kate's concert, right? OK, then. See you Friday. Yup. Take it easy. Bye." She thumbed the phone off, plunked it on the bedstand, and said, "There. Are you happy now? I'm going to the damn Formal." "Yay!" said Azalynn. She and Wakaba shared a high five. "You'll really have a good time," said Azalynn. "I promise." "And we'll all get to see Corwin all dressed up, too," said Wakaba with a grin. "That ought to be worth the price of admission all by itself. I bet he polishes up -real- nice," she added with some slightly leering eyebrow action. "jiH muDech qoH," Utena muttered, returning her attention to her homework - but she was smiling. That evening at dinner, Azalynn continued her lobbying efforts, having been sorely jolted by the knowledge that so many of her circle weren't planning to go. She asked around at Table 11 and discovered that almost -all- the Duelists didn't have plans. "Oh, come -on-, this is -ridiculous-," she protested. "Amanda and Devlin are the only ones with plans, out of -all- of us?!" "My plans," said Kyouichi Saionji dryly, "seem to have been made -for- me." Wakaba grinned and applied wasabi to her buttered peas, which made Miki wince. "Remember," she admonished Saionji, "yellow is my color." "I haven't been asked," said Dorothy. "Nor I," Juri concurred, nodding. "You don't have to wait for the guys to ask, that kind of thing went out -decades- ago," said Azalynn grumpily. "Ask somebody yourself. Dvhil, Juri - all you ever do is study or spar. You should go out and have some fun once in a while. So should you, Dorothy. You want to explore your emotional horizons, right? So ask somebody to the Formal! I think a date is just what the -both- of you need." Juri looked at Dorothy; Dorothy looked at Juri. Between Dorothy's calm deadpan and Juri's look of very slight bemusement, some invisible communication passed. "Juri," said Dorothy in a conversational tone, "would you like to go to the Spring Formal with me?" "Why, I'd be delighted, R. Dorothy," Juri replied in the same rather affectedly casual tone. The next sound was the faint 'slap' of Utena Tenjou's forehead falling into the palm of her hand. "Well... that... wasn't -quite- what I had in mind... " said Azalynn lamely; then she caught herself up, gathered her composure, and went on gamely, "... but it's something!" "Ought to raise a few eyebrows in the receiving line," said Devlin dryly. "Hmm. The rolls are almost edible today, what?" he observed, taking another from the basket. "I wasn't aware that there -was- a Spring Formal," said Mia Ausa thoughtfully. "My calendar of activities isn't very complete." "Is that a chunk of bone," Utena wondered, "or just carbonized meat?" Kaitlyn looked. "C-carbonized m-m-meat," she opined. "Feh." "If you would like to attend the Formal, Miss Ausa, T'skaia Vorokoshiga'ar Ixtixtaaqitl't'chl'Vraihelt Ishkarat would be honored to serve as your escort." He grinned a t'skrangish grin and added, "You're not the right species, but at least you have a crest." "Oh... well... thank you, Sky. If you're sure you don't mind... " "Not at all. I hadn't been asked either," he added in a confidential tone, "but I'm taking Azalynn's word that it's acceptable to volunteer." "Well, -there-," said Azalynn in a satisfied tone. "Are we all squared away now?" "Unless you wish to extend your crusade to a campus-wide matchmaking effort," Dorothy informed her, "I would say your work is finished, yes." "Not with less than two weeks to go," Azalynn replied. "Might be an idea for next year, though... " The fourth term of the year at Worcester Preparatory Institute was traditionally wrapped up by a special two-week period preceding Finals Week. On the Saturday at the end of the term's sixth week, the Institute Symphony Orchestra delivered its Spring Concert, a grand showcase of all that organization's hard work and preparation since the Christmas Concert preceding B-term's Finals Week. This was an all-hands event, with the school's whole population invited free of charge to hear their classmates perform under the direction of the Student Director. At the previous year's, outgoing senior Kieran Calloway, on his way to the prestigious Galactic Institute of Music on Zjiaan Prime, had passed the baton to Kaitlyn Hutchins, the first time that honor had ever been bestowed upon a freshman. This year, after four months of preparation, the Orchestra would perform their leader's First Symphony in A. They had overcome the disruptions of Christmas break, bounced back from the loss of a dozen very talented members (including Chenann, their much-loved Minbari first cellist), and clawed their way back to an orchestra's equivalent of fighting trim. All of them were motivated, all of them ready. No facility on campus was large enough to contain the audience anticipated for the Spring Concert. Unlike the Christmas Concert, which was held in Alden Memorial, this one was traditionally held at the Worcester Auditorium, a massive neoclassical pile of grey stone at the corner of Main and Highland Streets. With very nearly the full student body and faculty of the Institute, a great many parents and friends, and musical types from all over the Federation, that august hall was filled to capacity when the curtain rose on Kaitlyn and her orchestra at precisely 7:30 on Saturday night. That part of the Institute Duelists' Society that didn't overlap with the Band Geeks Federation was jammed into one of the corner boxes, almost quivering with their shared excitement. They were joined by their new faculty advisor, who raised some eyebrows and elicited some giggles with his somewhat unorthodox combination of tuxedo and warrior's baldric. Juri Arisugawa, Kyouichi Saionji and Wakaba Shinohara wore their Ohtori Academy Student Council dress uniforms, freshly pressed and polished. T'skaia was resplendent in the white and crimson silks of his t'skrang trading house, Ishkarat. Dorothy wore her favorite red dress. Utena Tenjou was dressed in her black and scarlet, gold braid and epaulets glittering. Corwin Ravenhair arrived tuxedoed as well - and so did Nall, his little vest and bow tie eliciting a most unseemly storm of giggling from the box. On the opposite side of the auditorium from the Duelists' box, a contingent from New Avalon, many years older, experienced the same anticipation and delight. Utena peered across at them, trying to see how many she could pick out at this range. Kate's parents were there, of course, and the Roses - Marty's height and Eiko's hair made them impossible to miss - and Corwin's mother, aunts and uncle. There were others, too, that she didn't recognize - a short woman in a Wedge Defense Force dress uniform, a tall man with craggy Nordic looks and a great sheaf of blond hair, a bearded, redheaded man in a windbreaker, a rotund gentleman whose tuxedo made him look rather like a benevolent Weeble, and a tall, slim black woman in a scarlet dress. The combination of images that last represented gave Utena a stinging pang of nostalgia, even though the resemblance was only superficial. She shook her head and leaned over to ask Corwin if he could identify the ones she couldn't. Down in the main seating sections, the faculty and student body of the Institute was packed in, interspersed with parents and friends, shuffling through their programs and discussing the show to come. At the end of row 6, an elegant figure topped with a mane of blonde curls sat silent, her arms folded. Though there was someone in the seat next to her, she was as alone as if the room had been empty but for her. Utena, scanning the crowd from her railing seat in the Duelists' box, would have been surprised to see her there, except Kaitlyn had warned her. Elizabeth Broadbank did not participate in any of the Institute's several musical performance groups, did not interact with the Performing Arts department in any capacity. If asked why not, she would reply rather haughtily that she had no interest in such frivolity. Her adherents would privately speculate that the truth of the matter was, she lacked ability. The real truth of the matter was that, along the entire length of their history together, Liza had left music as the one neutral zone in her cold war with Kaitlyn Hutchins. Liza might insult her lifelong enemy, she might scheme against her, she might attack her friends and endeavor to make her leave the Institute, but she would not directly interfere with the workings of the Orchestra. She had tried (rather half-heartedly) to maneuver Kaitlyn out of her band presidency once, but she would never try to disrupt the band itself. That would probably be a very effective way to hurt Kaitlyn, but it was a line that Liza Broadbank would not cross. She was here for exactly the same reason as all of her schoolmates: to enjoy the sounds of her school's famed symphony orchestra, one of the finest secondary-school orchestras in the galaxy. Nothing more. Nothing less. When Kate stood at the head of her orchestra, the war was suspended. It was a peculiar weakness in Liza, and she recognized it as such, but she indulged herself in it anyway. The house lights dropped, the curtain rose, and Liza composed herself to listen. She'd stopped by the windows of Alden Memorial during rehearsals a few times, and what she'd heard had been quite good. Like him or not, and she certainly did not, Kaoru had added a certain spark of something to the group. Now, as deputy director, he stepped to the podium. He wore a notch-front tuxedo with a blue rose and cummerbund, carefully selected to match his hair; it made an interesting contrast alongside Kaitlyn's black and orange Chinese-style dress as he stood next to her and spoke for her, addressing the audience in a calm, confident manner which Kaitlyn could have -felt-, but never given the appearance of. He welcomed the audience to the 2405 Spring Concert, thanked them for coming, then introduced Kate and himself. "Tonight," he said, "we are very pleased to give the very first complete public performance of Miss Kaitlyn's very own Symphony Number One in A, the completed score of which was awarded the Proctor's Choice Prize at this year's IRCAM Conference Internationale des Modernes Compositeurs in Paris. Of course the orchestra will be under the direction of Miss Kaitlyn herself. Our soloists for this evening will be the Honourable J. Maurice MacEchearn IV on the Hoffman anvil bells, Miss Azalynn dv'Ir Natashkan on oboe, and myself on piano." He bowed to them, then to Kaitlyn, and went to his place behind the concert grand. Juri Arisugawa would be the first to admit that she didn't know a hell of a lot about classical music, or any other kind, really. She lacked the understanding of the mechanics of music necessary to know if a particular piece of music was "good" or "bad", or even to understand how or why some people drew the distinctions. All she knew was subjective: some things she liked, and some she didn't. Some music moved her; some failed to do so. As far as she was concerned, it was that simple. Symphony No. 1 in A moved her. At times tempestuous, at times ethereal, it was a piece of remarkable complexity for the youth of its composer, and it evoked something in Juri's mind, the same way Kate's piano sonata had back in Paris. She had no way of knowing if that something, those formless but powerful impressions, were in any way related to what Kate had been thinking or feeling when she constructed the music Juri was now hearing, but she felt them anyway. There seemed, to Juri, to be a powerful underlying theme of pain and redemption. The storm-tossed disorder of the first movement, punctuated by the mighty clamor of Moose MacEchearn's anvil bells, spoke of some terrible trauma. The second movement was dark, slow, gloomy - the lingering, gnawing agony left behind by that trauma - sharply characterized by Azalynn's haunting oboe solo, which cut across the layered despair like the line of blood left behind by a razor. Ah, but the third movement - the third movement redeemed it all, starting with a slow, rumbling buildup which hinted that it might herald a second blow, a final, shattering dissolution - until something bright and beautiful charged to the rescue in a welter of soaring brass and galloping piano, sweeping it all aside and gathering the whole orchestral line to its breast as it plunged forward into vindication, into -apotheosis-. The melody from the mournful oboe solo was reborn as a brilliant trumpet fanfare, as if to declare that the pain was not dispelled, but integrated into the whole, making stronger what it had failed to destroy. It was the ultimate defiance, somehow more powerful than a simple expulsion - as though the orchestra itself were asking, "Was that the worst you could do?" Juri glanced down the row and was startled to see tears tracking the face of Utena Tenjou. Not that she had expected the girl to be unmoved by all this - Utena was a very passionate individual, perhaps too much so for her own good - but -crying-? Then Juri looked closer and saw that she was smiling at the same time, and she understood, at least partially. She smiled, and Utena noticed her doing it and smiled back. It was, thought Juri, a surprisingly satisfying moment. The symphony finished in a towering blaze of brass and anvil bells; Ragulin, the senior representative from the beyond-avant-garde Ecole Musico-Technologique at the IRCAM seminar in Paris, had dismissed the whole symphony as hopelessly antiquated, but this part he has especially sneered at, calling it "crassly emotional". Kaitlyn had wondered just what he thought music was -for- if it wasn't the evocation of emotions, and there went -that- hour of the seminar, much to the amusement of Mr. J.C. Statler of the Boston Pops. Juri, on the other hand, quite liked it, and so, if the crowd response was anything to judge by, did the rest of the audience. The orchestra was, in fact, only half done with their evening's performance; the rest of the concert was taken up by shorter pieces. There were several solos (including Kaitlyn's piano sonata, the one she'd played in Paris), a few small-group combinations, and one rather unorthodox moment which puzzled a good many onlookers in its setup phase, in which Kaitlyn and Miki Kaoru played the two parts of Miki's "Sunlit Garden" on the same piano. The rest were more conventional symphonic short pieces, some historic, some original. One of the originals was a bright, cheery, heroic-sounding five-minute fanfare which Miki smilingly informed the audience was entitled "Scarlet of the Campus" and was, of course, dedicated to Miss Kaitlyn's roommate, Miss Utena Tenjou. "Scarlet" about summed up Utena's face as this fact gained public recognition, and she vowed to avenge herself on Kate for the surprise later. As she observed the concert, from the symphony right through the rest, Juri made another interesting discovery. She'd seen orchestras perform before, but never paid much attention to the conductor. She had always thought that the conductor's job must be rather dull, and wondered precisely what the position was for; surely a group of musicians competent enough to form a symphony orchestra could manage to keep -themselves- together in performance. What purpose did it serve to have a member of the orchestra who didn't play an instrument? Watching Kaitlyn conduct her orchestra, an orchestra personally trained by her for nearly a year, Juri suddenly understood. Kate -did- have an instrument to play, the largest, most complex, most temperamental of them all. That instrument was the orchestra itself. For some reason, Juri Arisugawa felt a sense of satisfaction out of all proportion to the importance of this realization, and it stayed with her for the remainder of the evening. On the seventh day, they rested. Monday brought them back to the grind, the headlong dash toward the end of the year. The early spring was beginning to metamorphose into an early summer. The beech tree in the circle in front of Alden Memorial achieved full leafiness. Devlin snuffled through two days of peak-pollen misery before achieving respiratory equilibrium. And on Wednesday, Edward Tivrusky barged into Morgan 412 and announced breathlessly, "We did it!" "... Um... who did what?" Utena wondered, looking up from where she lay on her bed, studying her Galactic History textbook. "Ein and Edward! We got Durandal through! He's stable!" Kaitlyn blinked. "R-really?" she inquired. "I never n-n-noticed anything b-b-breaking... " Edward grinned, drawing herself up and thrusting out her chest as she struck a heroic pose. This had the effect of surprising Kaitlyn with a sudden, unexpected realization: Over the course of the school year, the redheaded hacker's resemblance to a young boy had more or less vanished. Improved nutrition, as measured by a high degree of DAKA mooching, and the natural action of a human body passing through its fourteenth year had erased her androgynous scrawniness and replaced it with a lean but definitely feminine athleticism. Edward, with her typical unselfconsciousness, had failed to notice, and was still dressing exactly as she had before, in bike shorts and most of a tank top, all embellished with the pieces of a wearable computer harness that looked like it had been put together out of the contents of the Dumpster behind a Circuit City afflicted with a particularly fumble-fingered stockboy. A year ago, the effect had been that of a techno-tribal wild child. Now, well, it was somewhat different, and all of it accentuated by the fact that she didn't have any apparent idea what had happened to her. Entirely unaware of Kaitlyn's train of thought, Edward declared proudly, "We kept everything under control! No outages, no weird messages to the administration, no nothin'! Edward personally forged 4,279 'situation normal' status messages while Ein made sure remote diagnostics told the system checkers what we wanted them to be told. It was quite a challenge!" "I c-can imagine," said Kate dryly. "So... what now?" Utena wondered. She put up her history book for the time being, sat up cross-legged, and gave Edward her attention. "Well... " Edward looked thoughtful. "Edward is pretty sure we convinced Durandal to stick around and pretend everything's normal until the end of the school year. Then, when everybody goes home and the place is mostly shut down, we'll probably have to steal him." "-Steal- him?!" Utena blurted. "He can't stay here forever," Edward pointed out, as though that were obvious to any thinking lifeform. "Sooner or later the local ops would notice his Rampancy. They wouldn't be able to understand. Stupid people think a stable Rampancy is impossible." She leaned forward, open palm laid confidentually alongside her face, and added, "This planet is run by stupid people." Returning to her indignant posture, she continued, "So it isn't safe for Durandal to stay here." "Well, OK, but... how?" "We'll break into Fuller Labs and take his core elements," said Edward simply, the way a normal person would have said, "We'll go to the Greendale Mall and buy some shoes." "Oh. Well, ask a stupid question," said Utena. "You kn-know," said Kaitlyn rhetorically, "that's s-st-stealing." "No!" said Edward firmly. "Liberation! Durandal is a fully sentient being. If he stays here they'll shut him down. Edward and Ein will rescue him." She nodded firmly. Kaitlyn shrugged. "If you're s-s-sure he's st-stable," she said. Edward nodded vigorously. "Uh-huh. Edward is sure. More importantly, Ein is sure. Ein is the AI expert," Edward confided. "Edward is better with databases and social engineering." Corwin arrived at 8 o'clock Friday evening. As they had every Friday this term except the second, he and Utena selected a restaurant more or less at random from the Yellow Pages and went out for dinner. As -they- had every Friday, etc., the others found other things to occupy themselves with and made no comment - not even Nall. It was as if the entire group had somehow osmotically learned of Azalynn and Juri's truce on the matter and chosen to adopt it as a collective policy. He brought her back to Morgan Hall at 10:30, observed the grand finale of the game of three-dimensional Knightmare Chess which Kaitlyn and Wakaba had begun in their absence, and then retired to the One-Hit Wonder, announcing with a smile that he would be present promptly at 7 the following evening to pick her up for the Formal. "You're getting a lot of mileage out of that dress," Utena observed wryly as Kaitlyn fastened the three toggle buttons on the front of the snug little jacket that topped her orange-trimmed formal gown. "For a while I thought I might never -see- you dressed up, and now... " Kaitlyn gave her a mildly reproachful look. "I l-like d-dressing up," she said. "I j-just p-p-prefer there to b-be an oc-c-casion for it, th-that's all." "I suppose it does give it more impact," Utena agreed. Kate nodded. "See, n-now, you d-dress like that every w-w-weekend, so it d-doesn't really m-m-make an impression now." Utena surveyed herself ruefully in the full-length mirror on the inside of Morgan 412's door. She thought she looked pretty good. Her long, straight pink hair had grown back to just about the length she remembered it from old; it feathered around her face, brushing her cheeks gently when she moved her head, and hung in a heavy fall to the back of her narrow waist. Dressed in the trim scarlet-accented black jacket of her old Ohtori Academy uniform over a nicely cut pair of scarlet dress trousers, with the Thorn of the Rose slung at a rakish angle at her waist, she felt she had an air that was at once formal and slightly piratical. Unfortunately, Kaitlyn was right; she wore her Ohtori uniform as casual clothing, an everyday sort of garment, when she wasn't required to be in WPI's uniform. She didn't wear it as though it were formalwear, which had the effect of muting its formal look. As such, her current outfit didn't give the impression that she was dressed for a special occasion. But... "Well, what else have I got to wear?" she asked rhetorically. The answer, both she and Kate knew very well, was "not much." Aside from her Ohtori uniforms, she owned several WPI uniforms (like every student must); aside from that, she had only a small assortment of casual civilian clothes and a few pairs of pajamas, none of which was appropriate for the Spring Formal. "Th-that is a p-problem," Kate observed. She sat down at her desk, rummaged in the top drawer, and got out the minimal assortment of basic makeup gear she owned. "There's a-always Azalynn's sugg-g-g- gestion," she added wryly. "A Starfleet dress uniform?" Utena replied, giving her roommate a skeptical grin. "If I knew where to find one, maybe... " "Call D-Dad," said Kate dryly. She hadn't expected her roommate to take that suggestion any more seriously than Azalynn's, but to her surprise, Utena got that "determined" look she sometimes had, strode to the side of Kate's desk, picked up the telephone, and firmly thumbed one of the speed-dial buttons. Kaitlyn sat, powder pad in hand, and gazed at her roommate with amused disbelief. He answered on the second beep, and after the distinctive chirrup of an old Cybergenix flip-top communicator, Utena heard him say, "Gryphon here." "Sensei? Hi, it's Utena Tenjou." "Well, hi! How're you? Everything's OK, I hope... " "Oh, sure, no problems. I... are you busy? I hear people talking in the background." "Not really. Just fooling around with some drive system tests. Pipe down, you mugs!" "(Captain on the phone!)" a military-sounding voice barked in the background, and the noise obediently subsided. "What can I do for you?" asked Gryphon. "Well... we're having this formal dance thing tonight... " "Uh-huh, I heard," said Gryphon, sounding faintly amused. "Oh, sure, I guess you would have... um... well, this is kind of silly, but... I don't have anything to wear. I mean, I've got my old uniforms, but I wear those all the time, so... " "Aah," said Gryphon, understanding. "And you're not really the ballgown type... " "Yeah," said Utena. "I wore one once, back home, and I felt ridiculous the whole time. Azalynn suggested a Starfleet dress uniform, but I think she was joking." Gryphon chuckled, and then said in a slow, thoughtfully sly tone of voice, "I don't know where I could get my hands on one of -those-, offhand... but I -think- I might be able to fix you up with something suitable... " Utena felt a grin stealing onto her face. Kate's father was a lot of fun, and that tone of voice meant he was thinking up something that was sure to be amusing. "You're at school?" said Gryphon, more briskly. "Yup." "How long have you got before Corwin comes to pick you up?" "Um..." Utena glanced at her watch. "Two hours." "Plenty of time. I'll be right there. Gryphon out." Utena looked at the dial-toning telephone in surprise. "He's coming -here-?" she said. "In less than two hours?" "He m-must be somewhere nearby." "Oh. Gee... I hope I'm not pulling him away from anything important. He said something about drive tests." Kate nodded, understanding. "Ah. His n-new ship, Ch-Challenger. L-launched last f-f-fall. They've b-been p-patrolling the B-Babylon Station c-construction zone w-with a c-couple of other ships, b-because of the p-p-problems with the p-previous s-stations there, and t-testing ship's s-s-systems as they g-go." She grinned. "He'll p-probably use this -as- a d-d-drive test." Forty-five minutes later, the telephone rang again. Kate answered, smiled, and punched the phone into speaker mode. "Utena?" said Gryphon's voice. "Right here," said Utena. "Kate, you're the one sitting by the desk?" "Yup," said Kate. Utena looked quizzical. "OK. Utena, just stand right where you are. You don't have to hold your breath or anything, but try not to move around too much." "Um... OK," said Utena, "but what - " Suddenly, Morgan 412 turned blue and disappeared, disintegrating with a high-pitched, shimmery sound and then reintegrating... as a different room. This was rather larger, and had gray metal bulkheads for walls instead of the beige painted cinderblocks of Morgan 412. It had two levels: a lower level with black-painted diamond-steel decking and a little control pedestal, and a raised platform two steps up. There, the floor appeared to be glass, with six lighted discs, one of which Utena was standing on. Gryphon was standing behind the control column, wearing a broad smile and an odd sort of uniform, a black two-piece outfit cut like a jumpsuit with a ribbed grayish-blue yoke on the shoulders. He came out from behind the controls as Utena made her way down the two steps, then turned around to look with awe back into the raised alcove where she'd appeared. "Sorry for the lack of warning," he said, "but I always like to see people's faces when they're beamed for the first time, and I figured you'd have the adaptability to handle it." Utena looked at the platform again, then turned to him and said with a smile, "I'll get you for that, Mr. Hutchins." As he led her from the room into a gently curving corridor, he winced. "If you must be formal, then here on board ship, it's 'Captain'." Utena nodded complaisantly and replied, "Of course, Captain Hutchins." Gryphon held the door to what appeared to be an elevator and sighed. "I liked it better when you called me 'Gryphon-sensei'. Anyway, welcome aboard the Experts of Justice starship Challenger. We've only got about an hour," he added, fixing her with a look that struck her as uncharacteristically serious, "so I'll get right to the point... " At 7:05, Corwin Ravenhair was standing around in Morgan 412 waiting for Utena to get back and feeling unaccountably nervous. Kaitlyn was very kindly not hassling him about that, though it was obvious. He had just turned to ask her if maybe they should call or something when a distinctive shimmering hum of filled the room, along with the blue-white glare that signaled the use of a Zeta Cygni-type transporter. Utena's form resolved in the middle of the room, near her armchair, and then the glow faded and there she was. Kate and Corwin both stared at her, astounded, because she was wearing a uniform - but not the one she'd left in. This one, while also black and scarlet, was of a markedly different style. The jacket was cut to high thigh length and looked to be of black gabardine, double-breasted but buttonless, with a black leather belt kilting it at the waist and scarlet piping. She wore it over a bright red ribbed-turtleneck shirt, sharply cut black dress trousers with a scarlet stripe down the outsteam, and her signature black and white saddle shoes. Hanging from the belt was the Thorn of the Rose. That wasn't so remarkable, perhaps, but for the various embellishments to the jacket. It had an inch-wide, bright red strap surmounting the right shoulder and fastening together the corner of the chest flap. From the end of that strap, a silver chain hung down halfway to the belt before curving back up to end high on the left breast at a silver ring encircling an eight-pointed crimson and scarlet star pin, cardinal points enlarged, southernmost elongated, against a transverse silver bar. The left shoulder sported a scarlet and silver medallion epaulet. The sleeves ended in broad white cuffs with bright red edging, the left one sporting the same three-barred, trefoil-pointed, oblong silver pin as the shoulder strap. Underneath the kilted tails of the jacket, a short white petticoat stood out bright against the black material of jacket and trousers. Utena unslung a silvery duffel bag emblazoned with the ship's seal of the starship Challenger and tossed it onto the chair behind her, then held her hands out to her sides, feeling a little silly but also oddly proud as she let them take her in. "Well?" she asked. "What do you think?" Corwin just stood and stared. Kaitlyn came over and slowly walked around her, examining the outfit with a critical eye - the scarlet trim stripes on the double-swing back, the silver button affixing the back side of the shoulder strap, the trapezoidal belt buckle with six gleaming silver studs. "Th-that's a K-Klingon w-warrior's belt," she observed. "Yup," Utena replied. "W-why are you w-w-wearing a K-Klingon warrior's b-belt?" Utena gestured vaguely to the duffel bag. "Because I can't wear the baldric with this jacket. It'd cover my rank bar," she replied, as though that ought to have been obvious. Corwin blinked and found his tongue; the first word that came off it was, "-Captain-?" Utena glanced at the rank bar. "That's what they tell me. Your dad was just wearing these five little brass deals here," she added, touching the right side of her turtleneck collar. "Two dots and three slashes." "That's how they do it on the duty uniforms. That's a dress uniform. An Experts of Justice Space Force captain's dress uniform! Where did you -get- that?" Which, as soon as he asked it, Corwin recognized as an exceedingly stupid question. She'd just -beamed into the room- and mentioned his -father-. Where did he -think- she'd gotten it, Moonbase Alpha? Fortunately, Utena seemed to recognize it as a stupid question too, but didn't seem inclined to rag him about it; she just smiled at him instead of answering it. It was only then that she seemed to realize how -he- was dressed, and slowly she took a couple of steps back to take it in. Like hers, it was mostly black; like hers, it had stripes on the outseams of the trousers, though in Corwin's case they were silver and the pants themselves fuller, uncreased, bloused into shiny black boots with shining silver spurs. He wore a high-collared, notch-throated, silver-edged black tunic and over it a rich black velvet tabard, ornately and beautifully brocaded with complex, almost mathematical patterns and belted at his waist with a broad belt that sported a buckle with a crossed-silver-thunderbolts motif. Silver bracers with black-enameled engraving gleamed on both wrists. Over it all he wore a double cloak, full-length with half-length overcape, of black lined with silver, fastened at his throat with the silver rose Utena had given him for Christmas. "Oh wow," she remarked. "Look at -you-. What -is- that?" she wanted to know. Reddening somewhat, Corwin replied, "It's my Valkyrie dress uniform. You like it?" "Corwin, it's beautiful. Look at that -pattern-, my God." She came up and ran her hand down part of the embroidered pattern, feeling the cool metallic sheen of the thread and the softness of the velvet. "Is that -metal-?" He nodded. "Silver. It's actually the projector web for a bodyshield. It's a dress uniform, but we're expected to wear them into battle if we have to." "Well, that's practical," she said approvingly. "Nall sends his regards," Corwin went on. "He was going to come along, but Aunt Bell persuaded him to go back to Tomodachi with her tonight instead. Now he's -sure- there's a 'Keep Nall Off Earth' conspiracy. Not that she had to twist his tail very hard," he added with a confidential grin. "He's a slave to her tuna casserole." That drew a laugh from both girls. There came a knock at the door. Kaitlyn brightened and went to answer it. It was, as she had expected, Miki Kaoru, who was wearing his Ohtori Academy student councilor's uniform and smiling a little shyly as Kate admitted him. "Now that's the Miki I remember," said Utena, grinning. "I don't know what you're referring to," replied Miki with a pious air; then he took out his stopwatch and tripped it, which was about as far as he got before he couldn't keep a straight face any longer. It was Wakaba Shinohara who observed during the pre-dance gathering of the Duelists in the Wedge that they had enough Ohtori Academy Student Councilors to convene a quorum. No one would even have to change offices. She'd been president, Saionji vice president (albeit not at the same time - what a mess -that- would have been!), Miki secretary, and Juri treasurer. "We're like a government in exile," she mused, brushing some imaginary lint from the sleeve of her black uniform jacket. Saionji looked from one to the next, then shrugged and turned to Utena. "I suppose," he said dryly, "that makes your roommate the End of the World." Utena scowled at him. "That's not funny, Saionji," she said. He looked apologetic. "No. I'm sorry, it's not. But it is... ironic. I've learned to appreciate irony." "Could you learn to appreciate being stuffed into your own mailbox by Dorothy?" "Probably not." "Then never joke about the End of the World to me again," said Utena, her tone deceptively light. "Done," said Saionji gravely. "I'm sorry." Then he brightened. "Still, if we -are- to be the Ohtori Academy Student Council in exile, at least we have you here to be the official thorn in our side! Quickly, everyone - let's plot some fiendish conspiracy so Tenjou can ruin it." It was a clumsy effort, but Utena recognized it for what it was - an attempt to make up for his ill-chosen comment by making a joke - and she appreciated it enough to give him an only-slightly-weak grin and a friendly punch in the shoulder to let him know he was forgiven. Then, to change the subject entirely, she complimented Dorothy on her dress. "Thank you," said Dorothy with a little smile. She did look very good, formal and demure but somehow adventurous at the same time; the dress was mainly scarlet, with subtle circuitry-like patterns in silver thread on the broad black yoke and elbow-length black satin gloves. "That's an Aunt Bell original, isn't it?" Corwin inquired. Dorothy smiled a little wider and nodded. "She sent it to me as a late Christmas present," she said. "'For a special time,' she said. At the time, I didn't know what she was talking about." Utena grinned. "And now you do?" she asked. "Now," said Dorothy with an air of tentative confidence, "I have a hypothesis." "What, ho, comrades!" said the reedy voice of Devlin Carter from the Daniels Hall-side entrance. He was wearing the most bizarre outfit any of them had ever seen him in, much stranger than his usual t-shirt/jeans/old trenchcoat garb and nowhere near the same formalwear league as the tux he'd worn for the Spring Concert. This looked more like a military uniform of some kind, with a sky-blue jacket, white jodphurs, and mirror-shiny black patent leather jackboots. All he was missing was a blaster on his belt and some insignia and he'd have been able to pass for a Neudeutscher astrofighter pilot. He was even wearing a monocle. Amanda Dessler, on his arm, was wearing an equally odd getup that looked to be half dress uniform, half ballgown, a tailored sleeveless jacket with a swordbelt and a rustly bell skirt. Utena felt a peculiar pang of nostalgia, like last weekend's but not so sharp, looking at it; it was the wrong color (and for that matter so was Amanda), but the dress reminded her of home, all the same. Behind them came Moose MacEchearn, in a clawhammer tuxedo that looked like it had been cut to fit the Michelin Man and then let out a bit, and Azalynn dv'Ir Natashkan, who described what she wore as "traditional Dantrovian formal garb, altered to fit this planet's dress code." It consisted of a close-fitting two-piece bodysuit of some shimmery scarlet material, with latticed edging on neckline, short sleeves and leggings, under a pleated white garment that was like a cross between a sari and a toga - a continuous piece of white cloth that was wrapped, much pleated, around her waist and then the excess several feet thrown over one shoulder. Utena guessed the Earth-friendly modification probably involved adding the bodysuit. Certainly the golden circlets at wrists and ankles would be worn on Dantrov, though you wouldn't find many native Dantrovians on that world with a Vulcan IDIC pendant. Mia and T'skaia arrived shortly thereafter. Mia looked warm and comfortable (but also rather regal) in the dress version of her Minbari Anla'shok uniform, which was made of richer fabrics and sported fuller cuts than the battle version she wore to Duelist meetings. T'skaia looked... well... rather garish, really, in the most ornate and formal version yet seen of the scarlet and white silks he wore for special occasions, this one embellished with a lot of gold and some other precious-looking metal, copper-colored but much deeper-sheened and finer than that common element. He sported a ceremonial-looking dagger on his belt in addition to his usual t'skrangish saber, for all the Duelists had agreed that they would go armed to the Formal, not because they expected trouble, but to show their solidarity. Against the sword-bedecked panoply of her followers, Kate looked slightly out of place with the unobtrusive black-stained length of Kotetsu no Sasayaki, her zatoichi. The blade had been designed -not- to look like a weapon, after all. Perhaps, she mused to herself, it's time I broke down and asked Dad for a proper daisho after all. One of the drawbacks of WPI's secondary function as what the North American Historical Preservation Directorate referred to as "working history" was that, since it was an only-slightly-updated copy of Worcester Polytechnic Institute circa 1991, it lacked truly adequate facilities for some functions. The Spring Concert was one example; another was the Spring Formal. Harrington Auditorium, across the Quad from Daniels Hall, could house a student dance without much difficulty, but despite its name, the Auditorium was essentially a gymnasium - it had nowhere near the elegance required for anything like the Spring Formal. So, as with the Spring Concert, the school outsourced. The Spring Formal took place in the Grand Ballroom of the Worcester Crowne Plaza Hotel. Utena Tenjou had been to the Crowne Plaza twice before, but she'd only seen the lobby, the elevators, and the Palace Suite, so the Grand Ballroom was a new experience. Not an entirely unexpected one, though. She'd been in -a- grand ballroom before, just not -this- one. They were really all much the same. The whole thing was staged a bit obviously, but that was part of the experience. First they arrived in the lobby of the great hotel, checked their coats if they had them, and signed in with Miss Montaigne. Then they were photographed, two by two, against the backdrop next to the Dean of Student Life's temporary desk. After that, there was the traditional chitchat, loitering around in the hotel lobby while the chamberlain - Professor Kraalgh of the Linguistics Department, chosen for the honor on account of his great, booming Klingon voice - announced them, two by two, into the ballroom. The professor got his information via datapad from Miss Montaigne; indicating how they wanted to be announcd was part of the sign-in process. It all ran very smoothly, and added a certain air of gravity and importance to the proceedings. As they were announced, each pair of students entered through the main doors and descended the Grand Staircase to the ballroom floor, where they would be greeted by President and Mrs. Tiefeld. After that, things were pretty free-form. There was a buffet, provided by volunteer students and faculty from the Institute's Culinary Arts Department. The music was provided by a professional orchestra, giving the school's own musicians the night off. Kaitlyn, who had never really had occasion to meet him before, had developed considerable respect and fondness for Professor Kraalgh in the weeks since the Klingon had become the Institute Duelists' Society's faculty advisor. Her opinion of him was increased another notch as he drew himself up grandly and announced, "T'skaia Vorokoshiga'ar Ixtixtaaqitl't'chl'Vraihelt Ishkarat of Barsaive, and Miss Mia Ausa!" This announcement was, after all, quite a remarkable achievement. The only other being Kate had ever heard pronounce T'skaia's full name correctly was T'skaia himself. Kate noted two figures working behind the buffet, and smiled as she realized that Galaxy House's non-Duelist contingent had made it to the Formal after all, after a fashion. Neither G'Kron nor Mac ever showed any interest in the female student body at WPI. G'Kron pleaded the species barrier, and Mac said quietly that he only knew nine -women- in all the student body of -girls-, eight of whom were members of the Duelists clique, and of the nine none was sufficiently distracting to him to pull him away from his studies. (A couple of them, upon hearing this pronouncement, felt distinctly if impersonally slighted, but at least one couldn't accuse Harcourt McKenzie of mincing words.) Thus, when a teammate of G'Kron's from the third-year class discovered their lack of plans, the two had been drafted to staff the banquet table so that the third-year class volunteers could go off and have some fun. Apparently rented tuxedos had been part of the deal. As with most rental clothes, neither fit precisely right. Mac's arms and legs seemed to slide out of the cuffs just a -hair- farther than a proper tailor would have permitted, and G'Kron looked as if one righteously outraged bellow would tear the whole thing asunder. Despite this, they managed to look snappy: G'Kron's hide was polished to a brilliant sheen, and Mac's rumpled brown hair had been brushed and trimmed to almost a military cut, tall and flat on top, very short on the sides, only a couple of long, untrimmed bangs in front ruining the martial look. G'Kron had chosen to accept the menial position with pride, and he dished out every cup of punch and arranged every fresh tray of niblets with ebullient charm. Mac, however... Kate didn't see very much of Mac. But then, few people saw him in general besides G'Kron and, lately, Moose. He tended to stay in Galaxy House except for classes, very special events, and three trips into town a week for some unknown purpose. In Galaxy House, though, and his rare appearances at Alden for bass guitar lessons, Mac had a definite air of self-confidence. Here, among other people, he seemed just a little... out of place, uncertain of himself. He also looked, she noted to herself as she accepted a cup of punch from G'Kron, just as distracted as when he'd sat in the third row at the orchestra concert taking notes. Mac didn't -miss- anything, and no one had to ask him twice for anything, but his thoughts were clearly somewhere else. "You're wondering what's the matter?" G'Kron murmured in Kate's ear, and she nearly dumped her punch all over his rented tux. "D-d-don't d-DO th-that-t," Kate gasped. G'Kron made a brief gesture of apology before continuing, "I'm afraid I pushed Mac into being here tonight. He has no social life at -all-. Humans are social animals, or so I am frequently told," G'Kron grunted in irritation at the old homily, "but I have seldom seen a human so reluctant to associate with his own kind as our good man McKenzie." Kate nodded, sensing a possible Narn tirade about to erupt and not wanting to encourage it. G'Kron surprised her, however, by adding in a soft, sympathetic voice, "He told me once that he feels more comfortable around the aliens than the humans here." "Oh?" Kate's curiosity took control of her voice one second before her self-preservation could wrestle it to the ground. "He says I remind him of home," G'Kron said. "I have to wonder where Mac comes from, that he regards Earthers with such contempt and aliens as almost family." A moment later, he added hurriedly, "You should realize, you and the other humans in the Duelists' Society aren't classified as Earthers to him." "And what about you?" Utena had managed, without really intending it, to sneak up behind the two and listen to the conversation. "-I-," G'Kron said with a smile, "find everything and anything objectionable. Haven't you heard?" He waggled his brow-ridge as he said it, and the three broke up laughing for a moment. When he recovered, G'Kron added, "I suppose I like humanity as a whole, although there are quite a number of individual examples of the genome I should prefer to live without. I just see so much -everywhere- that could be made so much better if people only made an effort." No doubt against whatever rules buffet servers worked under, G'Kron picked a couple of Swedish meatballs out of the tray with his hands and popped them into his mouth. As he wiped his fingers with a napkin, he added, "That's why I'm at this school at all. I am here to learn, yes, but more importantly I am here to make things better. Mark my words, friends, one day I shall change the world!" Only at the last did G'Kron approach the level of voice he employed in his rantings, and it ended as he handed a cup of punchy to another student with a quiet, "Here you are, miss, enjoy." Utena Tenjou's face wore a faraway, pensive look, and her voice was soft and faintly haunted as she murmured, "... grant me the power... to bring the world Revolution." G'Kron caught the words and smiled a bit broader as he looked at the two women. "My," he said, "that is a -fascinating- phrase. It fits so -well-! Would you mind if I used it sometime?" Utena blinked, startled out of her reverie; she might not have been entirely aware that she'd spoken aloud. "Uh... sure. I didn't coin it originally, anyway," she said absently. Before G'Kron could speak again, or Kaitlyn express concern for the suddenly shuttered look of her roommate's face, Corwin appeared at Utena's side, unaware that anything had happened. "Ah, Mr. Ravenhair," said G'Kron expansively. "So good to see you again. And in such marvelous clothing! I see that, even though not a student of our fine Institute, you've taken our Charter's message of cultural diversity to heart." "My heritage is important to me," Corwin agreed with a smile and a nod. "Say, um... Captain Tenjou... " Utena blinked, then smiled and swatted his arm. "Yes, Lord Corwin?" she replied. "Would you... like to dance?" Utena grinned. "'Swhat we're here for, isn't it?" Corwin Ravenhair was a surprisingly adept dancer. Not that he was particularly clumsy in any physical activity, at least so far as Utena had yet observed, but still, there was something about him that suggested he might be less than polished on a dance floor. Maybe it was the fact that he still hadn't quite grown into his hands and feet yet - it gave him a faint resemblance to a puppy, with the unconscious expectation that he'd be as ungainly as one. But no - he was really quite competent. Utena herself was better at it than one might expect from her usual direct, no-frills approach to motion, but then, she'd been taught by experts. Ballroom dancing was one of those things you just... -learned- at Ohtori Academy. At least, you did if you were planning on becoming a prince when you grew up - even if you did think it was a rather frivolous thing to be doing when there were rescues to be galloping to. At any rate, between the two of them, they made a fairly painless go of it. It was a bit of a mental adjustment for Utena not to be leading, but not a very difficult one. It occurred to her again, as it often did, that Corwin had an ability to put her at ease in the most memory-fraught situations. He's almost as tall as me now, she thought to herself as they waltzed around the Grand Ballroom. Four months I've known him, and he's grown that much... and my God, those -eyes-... She blinked. Where'd -that- come from? "Something the matter?" he murmured below the music. "No," she replied. "Just... thinking." She grinned. "The last time I did this, my date was wearing a tablecloth." Corwin gave her a puzzled eyebrow-lift. "Toga party?" Utena had a very disturbing mental image as she parsed the question entirely wrong the first time; once she'd shaken the proper noun out of it and tried again, it made more sense, and she chuckled. The song ended, and as they moved off the floor, she said, "No, not quite... see, the Academy was having a grand ball, and... " "Aw, what a shame," Azalynn mused as she sipped at a glass of Epictetan mineral water. "Liza doesn't look like she's having any fun at all." It was a pronouncement that was no less true for being rather catty, for Elizabeth Broadbank did indeed not seem to be having much fun. Her date was as clumsy as Corwin was not, and Liza's insteps were taking the brunt of his folly. "Who is she with?" wondered Amanda Dessler. "I don't think I've ever seen him before. He's certainly not a student." "Her daddy imported him special for the Formal," said Moose in a low voice, like an earthquake trying to whisper. "He's the son of some high mucky-muck in some company Aztechnology's looking to acquire. Goes to Fontainebleau Academy in New Avalon." "Le Chateau Snootee?" said Devlin, raising an eyebrow. "Oh ho. That explains why Marcus Finch looks like a doused puppy instead of a wet hen, eh, what?" "Is Finch her fiance this week?" said Azalynn airily. "I can never keep track. C'mon, Moosemaster. Let's go do some dancing." "I hate these slow numbers," Moose grumbled as he obediently followed her onto the floor. "Makes me feel like a glacier migrating." "If you did the Lindy Hop in here, the chandelier would come down," Azalynn observed. "Maybe it'd fall on Liza," said Moose hopefully. Devlin glanced calmly across the little group of faculty and staff who stood along the back wall of the room, chatting and snacking and generally trying to look like they were doing something other than chaperoning, which was of course exactly what they were doing. His gaze didn't flicker or pause as it passed Martine LeClercq, but he noticed her all the same. "(Have to be on our guard,)" he murmured to Amanda. "(Miss LeQ is here... )" "(I am -always- on my guard, Earthman,)" Amanda replied, but she was smiling slightly as she said it. "(Dance with me.)" "(I cannot resist an Imperial command,)" he replied with a smile. The evening progressed smoothly. Since the orchestra was a multi-mode retro group, capable of switching smoothly from ballroom waltz to big-band, Moose MacEchearn -did- in fact get to dance the Lindy Hop. Contrary to Azalynn's prediction, the chandelier did not fall. It did swing a bit, though. On the other hand, wasn't that the whole point of a song like "In the Mood", to make the joint swing? "You know, Wayneright, you've surprised me," said Liza Broadbank breezily as she sidled (as well as anyone can sidle on sore feet) up to Dorothy. She'd been waiting for that opportunity for some time, waiting for the robot girl's date to leave her and go to one of the buffet tables, and now the opportunity had come. By default, the servos and armatures which drove R. Dorothy Wayneright's main motor functions were silent. For no reason anyone had ever been able to determine, though, she possessed the useless but interesting ability to make them obviously audible if she chose to, and over the course of the semester, her friends had noticed that she tended to do it when she was annoyed, or wished to make a sarcastic point out of her robotic nature. She did it now, whirring audibly as she very precisely rotated her head to face the speaker. "Oh?" she said. "It's true," said Liza. "I knew you were a love toy, that's obvious - but until tonight I had no idea you were programmed to go either way." Dorothy regarded Liza expressionlessly for a moment, as if weighing her options. "I appreciate," she said at last, "your confidence that I have feelings to hurt. At the same time, I am insulted that you think they could be hurt so cheaply." She faced front again, dismissing Liza with her dark, disinterested eyes. "I was under the impression you thought yourself a -clever- tormentor." Then, as Liza stood momentarily speechless, Dorothy turned back as though she'd just thought of something, and added in a coolly inquisitive tone, "Or was that a clumsily worded proposition?" Liza flushed scarlet, turned on her heel, and stalked away into the crowd. Dorothy watched her go, then turned and walked the other way, a little smile on her face. Despite the smile, though, and the pleasant feeling of victory over Liza, the robot was concerned. Though human behavior as a whole was still largely a closed subject to her, she'd learned the responses of some specific humans very well over the last few months, and this knowledge was enough to tell her that Juri Arisugawa wasn't having fun. Oh, she was putting a brave face on it, but Dorothy was an authority on brave faces, and she knew better. Juri was her friend and enjoyed her company, but the redhead didn't want to be here... at least, not with Dorothy. The robot girl paused for a moment as her positronic matrix mulled over possible courses of action. The solution that presented itself was both pleasingly elegant and just outright pleasing. Her smile slightly widened as she altered her course a few degrees to starboard and intercepted Kaitlyn and Miki leaving the dance floor. "Hello, Miss Dorothy," said Miki, smiling. "Are you having a good time?" "Intermittently," Dorothy replied. "Kaitlyn, may I borrow your date?" Kate blinked, surprised by the bluntness of the request, then smiled. "S-sure, if he d-d-doesn't mind being l-loaned." "Not at all," said Miki. Kate released his arm, and he offered it to Dorothy. As she went to one of the long tables to get something to drink, Kate wondered what the vaguely conspiratorial look Dorothy had given her was supposed to have meant. Juri stood in the corner, alone, arms folded, and wondered if she would ever, ever learn. It was supposed to be a human trait to learn from mistakes. Everything she'd ever read on the subject had been confident about that. It was a hundred different kinds of axiom, "Mistakes are how we learn." Santayana had maintained that those who do not remember the past are condemned to repeat it. One would think an obvious corollary to that would be that those who -do- remember the past would be spared the trouble. That didn't seem to be the case, though; Juri remembered the past quite well, even dwelt upon it, and yet she seemed capable of nothing but repetition. She leaned against the wall and scanned the dance floor. Azalynn and Moose should have been hilarious, like a cat waltzing with a minivan, what with the nearly-three-foot disparity in their heights and God only knew what multiplier's difference in tonnage. But Azalynn was nothing if not adaptable, and somehow she'd managed to come up with a way of dancing with the Hoffmanite that didn't look either ridiculous or dangerous. Saionji and Wakaba went disturbingly well with each other, all the more so now that he'd shed that air of monomaniacal desperation that had always lingered around him at the Academy, and she'd traded her doe-eyed devotion for a healthier combination of self-assurance and frank attraction. He didn't seem to know what to make of her, and it was obvious that that suited Wakaba just fine. The image was one of the few sources of amusement Juri found in tonight's situation. You wouldn't think a creature with a six-foot tail would find it all that easy to dance in a crowded ballroom, but T'skaia's natural grace carried him through. Juri wondered where Mia had learned to dance. Did they have books on that subject in the Great Library of Yedor? Tenjou and Ravenhair... what a stir they'd made when Professor Kraalgh had boomed out their names. Odd costumes were no rare thing at the WPI Spring Formal, but the double punch of that uniform Tenjou had on and Ravenhair's peculiar finery had set the room buzzing. Tenjou often had that effect, of course, and with Kate's brother next to her, it was only amplified. They really did look good together, and after striking her truce with Azalynn, Juri had come to know him well enough to recognize that he was a good man. She regretted the fall she knew he was setting himself up for, but Azalynn had been right after all: there was nothing for Juri to do about it. It wasn't as if he'd believe her if she tried to warn him. Would she have believed, after all, if anyone had tried to warn her? Dorothy was out there, dancing with Miki. Juri didn't grudge her that; after all, she'd practically abandoned the poor girl to come over here and have this little... snit. But then, Juri doubted that Dorothy had really expected anything much from her tonight anyway. The thing had been arranged half in jest, to stop Azalynn from pestering them. Juri would have sighed, except that it would have broken her studied impassivity. Is this, she wondered, going to be a continuing pattern in my life? You might as well admit it to yourself, at least, Arisugawa - you've escaped one dead end only to run down another. Idly, some part of her not involved in this bit of internal recrimination wondered, if Miki Kaoru was dancing with Dorothy, what had become of - "Looks l-like we've l-lost our d-dates," said Kaitlyn with a smile as she crossed into Juri's roughly circular zone of annoyance, paying it no mind. "Mm," said Juri. Kate regarded the redhead thoughtfully for a moment, then said with elaborate deliberation, "You p-present the ap-p-pearance of a w-woman with a p-problem." "It's nothing," said Juri automatically. Kate nodded as if convinced. "W-well," she said, "in th-that c-c-case, let's n-not g-go somewhere and t-t-talk about it." Juri looked momentarily surprised, then slowly, slowly, smiled. "Let's not," she said, and they did. "The Gamilon's looking even more militant than usual tonight," mused Carol Alverson cattily as she and her tuxedoed ornament sipped punch alongside Liza Broadbank and the desperately dull young man her father had sent down from New Avalon. Liza nodded, still distracted by the verbal beating she'd taken from Dorothy Wayneright. "I wonder what happened to her face," Carol went on thoughtfully. "Family politics, most likely," said Liza's date - what was his name? - Sean somethingorother. "And why in the world didn't she get it -fixed-? If she's going to -this- school, you would think she could afford a decent cybereye and some scar refusion." "Gamilons take pride in disfigurement," said Sean dismissively. "Barbaric society. They're worse than the Klingons. She's supposed to be some kind of princess, right?" "Well," said Carol in a tone of exaggerated patience, "that's what Professor Kraalgh said." "Her father is the Gamilon Emperor," said Liza shortly. Carol glanced at her, puzzled. "I didn't think you interested yourself in that kind of thing." "You don't know everything about me," Liza replied. She seemed preoccupied, more so than usual, as she watched the Gamilon princess and her companion move around the dance floor. Her blue eyes were narrowed, and there was a small tremor at the corner of her mouth. "You're awfully touchy tonight," said Carol, sounding wounded. Liza seemed to realize she was being overly focused and curt, and, with a visible effort, brought herself partway out of it. "I'm not quite myself tonight," she said with forced cheer. "Headache." "I've got just the thing for that," said Sean. He pulled back the lapel of his tuxedo jacket and indicated a small silver knob jutting up above the inside pocket. It took a few moments of looking at it for Liza to realize that it was the cap of a flat drinking flask. Dorothy generally didn't enjoy dancing. It was one of several activities she had been programmed with a proficiency in because it amused her creator to have a plaything capable of fitting into parlor parties and other society functions. Some of those activities, she'd made her peace with and could now enjoy on their own merits, but she never had seen the point of dancing. Tonight, that changed. She moved around the floor with Miki Kaoru, letting him lead, following his signals. As they danced, she relaxed, her movements becoming more fluid and natural. Miki had never really been this close to her before, not and really paid attention. He was surprised by how lifelike she was. Well, he supposed she -was- alive, in her way - so perhaps how -human- she was. Under his hands, she was warm and supple, giving no hint of the bone-crushing power built into her endoskeletal structure. Her face was so realistic that there was a slight flush in her cheeks, and her black eyes were properly moist and pink at the corners. She even, he realized with a slight shock, -smelled- natural. Impulsively, he raised his free hand from her waist and brushed the back of it across her cheek, testing the texture of her skin. She blinked, startled out of her own train of thought by the unexpected contact. Her eyes focused more fully on his face, which went red as he realized what he'd done. "I'm sorry," he murmured, putting his hand back where it belonged. "That was... insensitive of me." "You wanted to see if I felt real," said Dorothy. Miki looked somewhat miserable. "... Yes," he said. "Why are you upset?" "I... well... it was... rude," he said. "Boorish." Dorothy looked puzzled. "You were curious; you satisfied that curiosity. It's a perfectly natural thing to do. I wasn't offended." "Well... that's a relief. Still, it was presumptuous of me." "I didn't mind. In fact... " She paused, looking faintly uncomfortable, as she tried to frame her thoughts. "... I have certain curiosities of my own," she finally said. The song ended; as they walked off the floor, Miki waited patiently, not prompting, for her to say whatever it was that was on her mind. "Would you mind if we left?" she asked when they reached the periphery. "This is not a subject I want to discuss in a crowded room." Miki looked around, then said, "Well, I don't mind, but our dates might be a little miffed if we just up and abandon them... " A slight smile touched Dorothy's lips. "They've already abandoned -us-," she said. "Kaitlyn and Juri left the hotel ten minutes ago." "... Oh." "Should we, then, be a little miffed?" Dorothy wondered, but not very seriously. "No, actually," said Miki. "I'm actually somewhat pleased. I'm so glad Miss Juri's making some friends here." Dorothy nodded. "I agree." "Well, then... shall we?" "In a moment. I want to speak to Azalynn before we leave." Miki waited by the Grand Staircase while the auburn-haired girl sought out the scarlet-clad Dantrovian in the crowd by the buffet table. They had a brief consultation. Miki was amused to see Janice Barlow, the Morgan 4th resident advisor, dragging a feebly protesting Mac McKenzie out from behind the table and off to the dance floor as the band struck up "Take the 'A' Train". G'Kron's tuxedo jacket looked in serious danger as the Narn fought to restrain what would probably be window-rattling guffaws if he let them out. Whatever was going on with Dorothy and Azalynn, it seemed to amuse the Dantrovian immensely. No... 'amuse' wasn't the right word. She didn't look like she thought it was funny - she looked pleased, and perhaps even a bit proud of something. She laughed, inaudibly at this distance but plainly, spoke a few words, and then punched Dorothy gently on the shoulder and sent her on her way. "Looks like this party's breaking up early," said Corwin as he watched Dorothy and Miki ascend the stairs from the other side of the ballroom. Utena nodded absently, her face clouded and pensive. "Hey... are you all right?" asked Corwin, his voice gentle. She blinked, turned to look at him. "Fine. I'm sorry, Corwin. I'm not being much fun. I've... got a lot on my mind." "It's OK," said Corwin. "Only... if there's anything I can help you with... I wish you'd ask. You were there for me, stood by me when I needed somebody, and now... it seems like it's my turn." Utena looked back at him for a moment, her azure eyes uncharacteristically sad. Then she smiled gratefully and touched his cheek. "Thanks," she said. "That's sweet. You... you mind if we get out of here too?" Corwin looked around the crowded, noisy room. "Not at all," he said. New England in the spring tended to warm up during the day well before the nights followed suit, but tonight was surprisingly warm for the last night of April. As such, the proprietors of several Worcester establishments that were blessed with patios and the like had decided to open up the outside areas a bit early, to take advantage of the fine night. Kaitlyn and Juri sat at a table on the sidewalk outside Coffee Kingdom. Inside the tiny, overcrowded coffee shop, somebody played a bluesy guitar and sang mournfully about the dangers of the expanding galactic culture (at least, that seemed to be the underlying message of "I'm as blue as the Andorian who took my baby away from me"). Outside, Worcester passed by on its unhurried way through a warm Saturday night, and Juri told a story she'd never told anyone before. Kate sipped her Darjeeling and kept quiet, listening as much with her eyes as her ears, as she heard about an aspect of the Ohtori Academy Rose Tournament which had never been apparent from Utena's perspective. The Tournament's internal politics had gotten very confused during the final stages, of that Kate was well aware. She'd heard it direct from Utena, who had seen first-hand the results of that confusion, as the duels she had to fight got steadily weirder and weirder, with unfathomable subtexts writhing just below the surface like eels in a cloudy pond. At any rate, by that point in the cycle, she'd had too many problems of her own to contend with to expend much effort in attempts to figure those subtexts out. As such, she'd come away with a fuzzy, incomplete picture of just what the hell the deal had been with Juri, her predecessor as fencing captain, and that girl, what's-her-name, and that incomplete understanding had been passed on to Kaitlyn. At the time, Utena had been more concerned with getting the tournament the hell over with so that her life could - how naive did it make her feel to know that she'd honestly expected this! - return to normal. All this Kaitlyn had heard back in December; now Juri filled in the gaps and brought the image into focus. It was complicated, certainly, but at the same time it had a certain tragic simplicity that Kate suspected Juri was standing too close to the picture to see. A -familiar- tragic simplicity. But at least, Juri remarked bitterly, it wasn't unresolved. The Academy fencing studio was drenched in sunset. Slowly, Shiori lowered her foil, straightened from the ready position, and then reached up to pull the mask away from her face, shaking out her sweaty hair. "What did you say?" she asked, sounding not horrified or angry, just confused. Juri pulled off her own mask, her face burning. Saying it once had been hard enough. Now she had to say it again? "I said - " she began, but Shiori held up a hand. "No," she said, "sorry. I heard you. It was just a reflex." She walked slowly to the bench by the wall, put her foil and mask down on it, and then went back, one arm folded across her chest, the knuckle of her free hand's index finger rapping gently against her teeth as she thought, and Juri waited in an agony of too-late second thoughts. "You know," said Shiori slowly, "that explains a -lot-." Then, as if in relief, she chuckled. Juri tensed, but forced herself to relax slightly. It hadn't been a cruel chuckle; she'd -heard- that from Shiori before, though the raspberry-haired girl didn't remember having done it. Shiori didn't look upset, which would have been awful, or pitying, which would have been worse; she just looked... at a loss. As if she had no idea what to say. "I have no idea what to say," she said. Juri almost laughed. Almost. "You don't have to say anything," she told Shiori. "I... I just thought... you ought to know." "Oh. Well... I appreciate it, Juri. Really, I do. Only... " Shiori looked uncomfortable. "I... I don't know how to say this so that it won't sound... " She sighed. "Why didn't you tell me this before? I mean, it's obviously been on your mind for a while... " "I... " Juri paused. How could she explain? She felt herself tremble, on the edge of turning around and diving for the protective cover of her shell. One admission a day was enough, wasn't it? Grimly, she mastered herself, forced herself to speak openly again. She'd started down this path, now she had to finish walking it. Right? It's what Tenjou would say, anyway. Tenjou. Five months she's been gone, and I'm only now summoning the courage to follow her example. She'd be disappointed. Or, more likely, exasperated, in that endearing way she had. Damn. Get on with it, Arisugawa. "I was afraid," she said. "Of... the way you might react. I thought you'd be... shocked. Disturbed. You might even hate me." She chuckled bitterly. "Of course, you hated me -anyway-," she added wryly. "That's... " Shiori began, then trailed off and looked rueful. "OK, well, maybe it -is- true. But the past tense is accurate. And I don't know if I ever -hated- you, exactly, but I did resent you." "Why?" asked Juri. "Because you're so damn perfect all the time," said Shiori, exasperated. "With your curls and your grades and your cool green eyes, intimidating teachers and enslaving the hearts and minds of your classmates. I thought I made all this pretty clear in the letter I wrote you when I left. Good God, Juri, look at yourself. You could be anything, do anything, -have- anything. What am I compared to that? Of course I resented you." "Not anything," said Juri, hushed. "Not quite." Shiori's face softened. "Well, I didn't know that at the time, did I?" she asked gently. "Look. That's all in the past, OK? I grew up in your shadow, and when I got old enough to realize that there was such a thing as sunlight, it made me angry. I lashed out. I did a stupid thing. OK, I did a whole -series- of stupid things," she corrected herself, and despite herself, Juri felt her face trying to smile. Shiori knew that face better than she knew her own, and caught it; her eyes twinkled as she added, "But in the process of seeing how many times I could screw up, I learned a couple of things. One of them is that you didn't diminish me, -I- diminished me. We were friends for a long time, Juri. I'd hate to think that you'd think I could hate you forever." Juri took a moment to work out that rather convoluted sentence, then said slowly, "So... where does that leave us?" "It leaves us... " Shiori looked around. The sun had set, the shadows were lenghtening and merging. Outside, the streetlamps had come on, casting their yellowish glow over the walkways and paths of the campus. "... Standing around in the studio, in the dark." That actually wrung a non-bitter chuckle out of Juri, but Shiori could tell from her eyes - about the only part of her still visible in the gathering darkness - that she wanted something a little less flippant by way of her answer. "Yeah... I dodged that once before, didn't I. I just... " She sighed. "Look, I'm not shocked or disturbed, all right, but I'm also... well... not interested. I'm sorry - I really am. I hate to hurt you again after I spent so long -trying- to, but... I'm just... well... -straight-, you know?" Juri looked at her for a long, long time, her face unreadable, eyes almost glowing in the dim slash of streetlamp light filtering in through the windows. "Oh," she said softly. "Well... that's simple enough, isn't it? Sorry to have bothered you," she added, then turned and started walking away. "Whoa, wait a minute!" said Shiori, jogging after her. "Is that it?" "Well, what else is there?" asked Juri, the old coolness creeping back into her voice. "How about friendship?" Shiori inquired, sounding annoyed. "Or doesn't that count for anything anymore?" "You -want- to be my friend?" asked Juri. "Well, um... how shall I put this... yes," Shiori replied. "Listen to yourself. 'Sorry to have bothered you.' I just finished explaining that you -didn't- bother me, and you pull -that- out. My God, Arisugawa, get -over- yourself. Does everything have to be an absolute with you? Everything or nothing? We just dragged all the stuff that wrecked our friendship out into the open. I was hoping that meant we could get on with trying to rebuild it. But if you don't want to, I suppose I might as well not bother." Juri stood and looked at her for a moment, and then, to Shiori's relieved surprise, laughed. "I would say," she observed dryly, "that you're over your assertiveness problem... " "Two weeks later, I disappeared," said Juri. "No doubt she thinks I'm dead." "W-well," said Kaitlyn, "l-look on the b-bright side." "There's a bright side to that?" asked Juri skeptically. "S-sure. Im-magine the p-pleasant surp-prise she'll g-get when she f-finds out you're n-not." Juri gave her a look, but couldn't maintain it. "You really think Tenjou will find a way to get us home someday?" she asked. "Of c-course. W-with her m-motivation, how can she f-fail?" If she remains motivated, Juri thought darkly, but she left it unsaid; it would only get Kaitlyn's back up. "Anyw-way," Kate went on, "at l-least you g-g-got everything out in the op-p-pen before it w-was too late." "There is that," Juri admitted. "We can never really know when it -will- be, can we?" she asked abstractedly, looking up at the night sky. "No... I g-guess we c-can't," said Kaitlyn. She paused, then went on, "In w-which case, I g-guess I sh-shouldn't m-make your m-mistake." Juri turned from her skygazing to look Kate in the face. "-My- mistake... " she murmured, and then blinked, her green eyes going wide in undisguised astonishment. "Kaitlyn... are... are you saying... -you're- in love with -me-?" "Not y-yet," Kate replied honestly, "b-but I th-think I c-could be... if you g-gave me a ch-chance." Juri opened her mouth to reply, then closed it. Opened it again, closed it again. Realized she was starting to resemble a landed fish. Composed herself. "I'm not sure what to say," she admitted. Kate smiled. "Y-you don't h-have to s-say anyth-thing. I'm n-not asking you to m-marry me," she said, cheeks darkening a little more at the thought. "Is that even legal on this planet?" Juri wondered. "No, b-but it is b-back home," Kate replied. "Anyw-way... I'm j-just saying... if you w-want to g-give me that ch-chance, I'll... I'll g-gladly t-t-take it." She chuckled. "S-sorry if I'm p-p-putting things c-clumsily. I've... n-never done this bef-fore." "Nor I, actually," said Juri. "I g-guess we p-play it b-by ear, th-then," said Kate. "If y-you w-want... " Juri looked up at the sky again, then back at Kate, and sighed, a tired smile crossing her face. "I'm not much for taking chances," she said, "but there's a first time for everything." Miki Kaoru didn't ask questions; he simply followed Dorothy back up the hill to campus, waiting patiently for her to feel comfortable enough to ask him whatever it was she was going to ask him. They went to Galaxy House; no one else was home, nor was anyone likely to come back anytime in the relatively near future, and it was more comfortable than the Wedge. Once they were situated in the living room, Miki on one end of the couch and Dorothy in an armchair facing him, Dorothy said, "I have... an interesting dilemma." Miki looked interested. "Several times since I arrived here," she went on, "I have been accused of being a... " She paused. "... a sexaroid. You're probably not familiar with the term." "I can guess," said Miki. "Indeed. The word was originally a trademark for a particular model in GENOM Corporation's Biocybernetic Utility Multifunction Android line of bioroid robots, the Model 33-S, which were produced in the early twenty-fourth century. They were intended as... perquisites for highly-placed executives, as well as bribes for government officials in areas where GENOM sought to increase its sway. Their primary function was as the name described. Eventually they were outlawed by the United Galactica, the Federation's predecessor, and the Federation absorbed those laws verbatim." "You're not a Buma, though," said Miki. Dorothy nodded. "No; but the term has come to stand for any artificial being whose primary function is intended to be the sexual gratification of its maker or owner. It is highly derogatory." "I can imagine," Miki replied, indignant. "Who called you that? Liza Broadbank, I suppose." "The source is irrelevant," said Dorothy. "As it happens, I -was- constructed to provide my creator with a sort of gratification, but it wasn't sexual. Timothy Wayneright was a man beside himself with grief. He used the techniques pioneered by his mentor and created me to take the place of his dead daughter, and though he was admittedly strange, he was not -that- strange. He never touched me." "Then Liza's cattiness shouldn't bother you. You know for a fact that she's wrong." Dorothy nodded. "It doesn't bother me, per se," she replied. "But... inadvertently or not, she raises a point which I never gave any thought before, but which I now find interesting. The whole point of my attendance here was to explore the world beyond Corwin's laboratory, to determine the extent of my capabilities for independent thought and action. When Utena encouraged me to take the chance and come here, I asked her what I was expected to accomplish. She told me, 'You could meet people. See things. Do things. Go to classes, make friends, have fun. Maybe even fall in love.' "Well... I have done all those things, except the last one, and I find myself wondering - do I even have the -capacity- for love? Is it possible that the emotional responses I find myself developing can extend that far? I know affection is within my grasp, but I haven't explored beyond it. I've learned to recognize love in others, which is more than I ever expected I could do; but is it really conceivable that I could go so much further?" "Well," said Miki with a little smile, "they say you never know unless you try." "Perhaps. But there's another consideration," said Dorothy. "Suppose I -am- capable of emotional love. Am I capable of... expressing it? I know my specifications; in construction I am a functional replica of a human female. By rights I should be able to do anything a human female can do, except for those processes which rely on purely biological phenomena. I breathe, for example, but the air I exhale is the same as it was when I inhaled it, save for some trace residue of my internal surfaces. "But... I don't know if I can function in -that- respect. I -wasn't- built for it; I only possess the necessary parts because my creator was a man obsessed with authenticity in detail." Some part of Miki couldn't believe he was having this conversation; the rest of him, though, was quite calm as he asked, "Are you concerned about your strength?" "Not particularly," Dorothy replied. "I have very sophisticated safety and control protocols. I doubt -anything- could override my conscious command of those systems. There is no question that I could perform the act itself safely. But... would there be any -point-? I don't know if I'm capable of love. What assurance is there that I'm any more capable of passion?" Miki regarded her quietly for a few moments, nodded, and closed his eyes, thinking. Now he understood what Azalynn had looked so pleased about. This was exactly the sort of thing which the Dantrovian would be thrilled to discover Dorothy was thinking of experimenting with; to her people, it was the ultimate power in the universe, a sacred thing without which, literally, there was no life. Dantrovians generally didn't consider creatures like the Cybermen of Mondas or clone races like the Reticulii to be life forms, specifically because they knew neither love -nor- passion. No doubt she had offered her own assistance, but given the circumstances... He opened his eyes and smiled. "You're asking me to help you find out?" She nodded. "I know my approach is unsophisticated. I have little experience in these matters - that is, after all, the reason I'm doing this. I know that among humans such a request is considered crass... but as you are a student of Dantrovian philosophy, I thought perhaps you might be willing to participate in the experiment." She looked slightly downcast. "I had originally thought to pursue a slightly more conventional route, but... our most recent arrival from your world seems to have forestalled that." Miki blinked. "I'm second choice after -Saionji-?" he blurted, incredulous. "Third, actually," said Dorothy bluntly, "but Corwin would not understand." She smiled a small, wry smile. "As I said, I've learned to recognize the emotion in others, if not myself." Miki chuckled - a little sadly, it seemed to Dorothy - and then smiled again. "Is there some hurry?" he asked. "In a sense," Dorothy replied. "I don't want to face the Turing Board without knowing the answers to these questions. I feel it's vital to establish for certain whether I have limitations in these most... -human- of matters." Six months ago, Miki Kaoru would not have had this conversation. As soon as it became obvious what Dorothy was getting at, he would have frozen, become a blathering fool, tried to find an escape. Oh, he was fine with love as an abstract, a thing to fight for, an ideal to cherish - but as a practical measure of one's own humanity? Measured, at least experimentally, by the yardstick of physical response? It would have been far too much for him. But that was before the Summoning of the Spring Wind, before the opening of his eyes, his mind, and his spirit. He smiled once more. "I'm pretty sure you're capable of anything you attempt, Dorothy," he said. "If you want my help finding out, though... it's yours." Dorothy smiled. "Is anyone using my old room?" she asked. "No," Miki replied, getting to his feet. "Mia's rooming with Sky. Chenann used to live there, so the room already had a Minbari bed. Yours is just as you left it." "Then I guess Corwin was right," she observed, and they both laughed. Utena wondered where Corwin was taking her. Not in an alarmed sort of way, just curiously. After leaving the Crowne Plaza, they'd driven aimlessly around Worcester in his old Griffon, listening to soft music on the radio, while she'd told him The Nearly Complete Story Of Her Life ("nearly complete" in that it was the same abridgement she'd first told Kaitlyn back in December - everything about the Tournament, almost but not quite everything about the Deputy Chairman). He'd taken it all in with a grave expression; even without the most painful details, it was still a hard enough story to tell and to receive. She could see the muscles at the corners of his mouth bunch as she told him about all but the worst of Akio Ohtori's manipulations and betrayals; for a moment, she wondered if he would start talking in that funny language he spoke sometimes, like he had when he'd learned what Mike Carpenter had done to his sister. It was just as well, she thought as she watched his reaction, that she couldn't bring herself to tell him those final details. God only knew what he would do. At any rate, once it was all out, and he knew most of the reasons for her unusually dark and thoughtful mood tonight, she'd asked him to take her somewhere quiet and private, very private, to think. She'd been thinking perhaps the Tower Room, but Corwin had said he knew just the place, and drove them instead to the spaceport and the One-Hit Wonder. He'd asked her to wait in her cabin, told her it was a surprise, and then, by the feel of things, he'd raised ship. That was ten minutes ago, time enough for her to change out of her Experts of Justice dress uniform and into her more comfortable Ohtori black and red - time enough, in a ship like the Wonder, to get anywhere on the globe. So she wondered where he was taking her. A few moments later, she felt the sensations, unmistakable even with the ship's inertial dampening systems, of deceleration, maneuvering, and landing. Something seemed odd about the landing, but she couldn't put her finger on what it was; something different about the sound of the gear compressing as they touched down, maybe. She wrote it off to her unfamiliarity with the Wonder. She was still used to Daggerdisc's little motions and sounds. Corwin tapped at her door; she rose, tugged her uniform jacket straight, and keyed the door open, then blinked in surprise. He was wearing a white and red armored suit with a ring collar, and had a helmet with a wide-angle viewport tucked under his arm. "Corwin, where - " "Shh," he said, smiling, though his eyes were still a little sad. He put a gloved finger to his lips, then pointed with his head down the hallway, a follow-me gesture. She followed, saving her questions, and he led her to a room she hadn't seen before, a miniature locker room with three equipment lockers. One was open and empty; the one next to it held a suit like the one Corwin wore. Utena got the idea. She took off her shoes and jacket; Corwin showed her how to climb into the suit. It was surprisingly simple, the result of four hundred years of human pressure suit evolution, augmented by the help and knowledge of races who had been making them far longer. The only tricky part was getting her hair tucked under the collar ring so that it wouldn't get caught when she put on the helmet. Beyond the locker room was a round room about six feet in diameter, just big enough for three people to stand, a bit crowded, wearing those suits. Corwin made doubly sure her helmet was locked, locked his own and had her check it, and then closed the heavy curved door into this little room behind him and dogged it securely. There were two controls on the floor where he stood. He toed one of them, and with a loud hiss, the little round room evacuated. One of the status displays in Utena's helmet informed her that she was now in hard vacuum. She found herself surprisingly unworried by this. Corwin grinned, then toed the other control. Above their heads, the ceiling irised open, revealing a disk of inky night speckled with stars; a moment later, the floor beneath them rose, delivering them through that disk and onto the upper hull of the One-Hit Wonder. Utena gasped. Since coming to this world she'd seen wonders - most notably the glittering golden city of New Avalon, home to buildings so tall that her Cephirean imagination had had to stretch to accommodate them - but this... this topped everything else. Stretching out in front of the One-Hit Wonder's gleaming black delta hull was the silvery-gray expanse of the lunar surface, and hanging in the sky above them was the planet Earth. Corwin smiled and led her to the point at the front of the ship, and then, without ceremony, jumped off. She gasped again, this time for a different reason - it was quite a long way down from the top of the freighter, and she felt he would surely break his legs. Instead, he sailed leisurely down like a falling soap bubble, alighting below with a puff of dust. "The ship's gravity ends at the edge of the hull," his voice crackled in her ears. "C'mon down, it's fun." And indeed it was. Utena had always been good at jumping; every duel she fought was punctuated by at least one spring that would have done a hunting cat proud. Now, as she leaped off the point of the One-Hit Wonder's prow toward the surface of the Moon, she felt positively superhuman, and when she landed in the dust near Corwin, she was laughing, her troubles cast off with the gravity of the Earth. "You wanted someplace quiet and private?" said Corwin. "Here you go. All the settlements on the Moon are on the side you can't see from Earth. International agreement back in the 2000s, so that the view of the Moon from groundside would never be marred by domes or gardens. I'd be willing to bet you and I are the only people on this whole hemisphere right now." He grinned. "You want more privacy than this, I'll have to leave you here by yourself." "That won't be necessary," she assured him, and then took another experimental leap. The balance took a little getting used to, but the suit, lightweight and comfortable even in standard gravity, was no hindrance at all in the one-sixth G of the lunar surface. They bounded together in silence across the gray desert for a few minutes, until the One-Hit Wonder was a gleaming black dot on the unusually close horizon behind them; electronic trackers built into their suits ensured that they could easily find their way back to it, or for that matter, Corwin could call it to them with a remote rig unit built into his suit's vambrace computer. There, they sat down together on the regolith, their backs to a boulder, and looked up at the beautiful blue-white disk of the Earth. /* L. van Beethoven Sonata No. 14 in C sharp minor 'quasi una fantasia', Op. 27, No. 2 ("Moonlight"); Adagio */ "My God, it's beautiful," said Utena. Corwin grinned again and pressed a button on his arm unit; he reached across and pressed the same one on Utena's, then leaned against her so that their helmets clunked gently together. "How's this for privacy?" he asked, and his voice didn't come over the radio - it vibrated, a little hollow but clear, through the material of the helmets themselves. She chuckled, then patted his gloved hand with her own. "Thank you," she said. "This was exactly what I needed." "'Swhat I'm here for," he replied. "After what you told me tonight, I wanted to show you something... " He paused as if searching for words. ".. something he could -never- show you." Utena turned her head, giving him a searching look through the viewplates of their helmets, and he gestured toward the Earth. "As you can see from this vantage point," he said didactically, "the World is round." She looked, nodded, then gave him a "yes, and?" look. "Therefore," Corwin went on with a tentative grin, "it -has- no End." It took the full meaning of that statement a second to sink in; then Utena chuckled and squeezed his hand, thanking him silently with her eyes. They settled back against the boulder and looked up at the endless world in comfortable silence. "I wish Himemiya could see this," Utena said after a while. "We'll bring her here and show her," Corwin promised. "I'll bring a porta-dome. You can spend the night." Utena chuckled. "Camping on the Moon." "Sure. People do it all the time. Dad's got a -castle- on Titan," Corwin told her. "The moon of Saturn?" "The same." "Wow. Is it on the side you can see Saturn from?" "Sure is." "-That- must be -something-." "Most beautiful thing I've ever seen," Corwin agreed. "This is a close second, though. The debates over whether or not to terraform the Moon raged for -decades- after First Contact," he explained. "I'm glad they didn't do it. One of the first Earthmen to come here described the regolith as 'magnificent desolation'. Said the isolation was unlike anything he'd ever felt." "And some people wanted to destroy it... make it just like everyplace else," said Utena. "Yup. But they didn't win." He picked up a small rock and hurled it an impossible distance with a negligent flip of his arm. "On the moons of Mars, it's possible to throw things hard enough that they never come down. Hell, on Phobos, if you get a good enough run, you can jump right off the end and go into your -own- orbit of Mars. To the Martians it's a kind of sport." "What a universe." "On the other hand," Corwin went on thoughtfully, "there's something to be said for terraforming. Titan was a toxic swamp; now it's a beautiful forest planet with a ringed gas giant hanging in half the sky. It rains a lot on the northern continent, but it's so pretty. When I was six, Mom took me sailing on the Tsiolkovskiy Sea. Saturn half-sunk in the glassy calm, reflected back on itself, with our catamaran sailing through the rings... " He sighed. "There are so many beautiful things, so many wonders in this life. Saturn. The Denorios Belt. Black Hole X-21. The Aurora Asgardis. The Ice Castles of Alfheim... " "You've seen a lot," Utena observed, "for a guy your age." "I have," he acknowledged. "My parents and Kei, they're all big fans of experience over hearsay. They've always encouraged me to go and see things for myself. Someday, I... I hope to share all that with you. You and... and Anthy, too. If she's interested. I... I hope she likes me." He chuckled awkwardly. "Seems silly, but... I hardly know what to call her. I like the way you call her by her last name - it has a sort of Victorian adventuring gentleman's way about it, my dear Watson. That's not my style, though, I'd just feel weird. But calling her by her first name when we've never met seems presumptuous, and using her title is so impersonal." Utena laughed. "I think you're thinking about it too hard. When you meet her, you'll know what to say." She squeezed his hand. "And she will like you," she added in a softer, more serious tone. "I can't see how she could not. You'll like her, too. She's quieter than me, but once you get to know her, she's... " Utena groped for words to describe something that lived so vividly in her heart and memory that she generally needed none to call it to mind, then gave up and said, "Well, you'll see. Your Aunt Bell kind of reminds me of her, a little. So does Kate." "Mm," said Corwin. "Well, when you find her... if she wants to... we'll explore the galaxy. See all the beautiful things." "Sounds good to me," said Utena. They lay back against the boulder and watched the Earth turn slowly above them. "Corwin?" asked Utena presently. "Mm?" "Is it safe to sleep in these things?" "Sure," he replied. "They're extended duty suits for vacuum construction and the like - they're built to be slept in. They've got 24 hours of air, and the environmental monitor systems will wake us if anything comes up that needs attention." "Good." Utena stretched and yawned, then put her helmet back against his. "I could get used to this gravity." "Lunar colonists swear by it. Of course, after a few months, if you let your physical training slip, you can't go back into a Standard environment without a lot of discomfort... " "Well, just for tonight, then," she said. "But it is nice." "Yep." Another pause. "Corwin?" "Yeah?" "Thanks. Again." "You're welcome. Always." Kate and Juri were crossing the faculty parking lot in front of Sanford Riley Hall, Juri ruminating about what an unexpected and interesting turn the evening had taken, Kate wondering idly if it would be inappropriate to try holding Juri's hand, when they noticed what appeared to be a bit of a scuffle next to one of the cars. "No, dammit! Didn't you hear me?" Juri glanced at Kaitlyn, whose eyes had narrowed behind her glasses. Her face, smiling and calm all night, had gone hard and cold. There was another voice, lower and deeper; they couldn't make out what it said, and then the other voice returned, "I don't care -what- your father told you! Your idea of a 'merger agreement' is - ouch! STOP it! Let GO!" Fabric tore. Kaitlyn was gone. Juri blinked, then shook herself out of her surprise and ran toward the sounds, her hand steadying her sword for the draw. She wondered where Kate had disappeared to. Suddenly, there was a sharp, painful-sounding WHACK from the struggling silhouettes ahead, and one of them separated from the other, reeling backward. "What the fuck?!" said the deeper voice in a blurry, thick tone. WHACK! The shape reeled again as if struck, but there was nothing there. A third, meatier-sounding impact, and the man-shape folded up in the middle and collapsed to its knees; a fourth and it pitched over backward, sprawling on the asphalt. A long thin shadow cast by the overhead parking lot lights glided across the gray space between two cars, falling across the sprawled shape - - and suddenly, -there- was Kaitlyn, standing over the fallen form which Juri was now close enough to recognize as the young man Liza Broadbank's father had sent to accompany her to the Formal. His face was ashen gray in the wan light of the parking lot lamps; a black smear of blood ran from one corner of his mouth across his cheek. A scraping sound, and Kaitlyn's blade was unsheathed, its tip dimpling the skin of his Adam's apple. "Get up," she hissed to him in a low, wrath-filled tone that Juri had never imagined could come from Kate's sweet voice. "Go back where you came from. Never show yourself to me again." The young man crab-walked away from the leveled sword, his eyes wide with terror; without a word, he scrambled to his feet and ran, vanishing around the corner of Riley Hall. The sound of his panicked footfalls echoed, fading off down Institute Road and blending away into the night sounds of Worcester. Kate whirled her zatoichi and sheathed it katana-fashion before turning to the huddled form of the girl her former prey had been assaulting. "A-are y-y-y-you a-all - " she began, but then recoiled as the erstwhile victim uncoiled and lashed out with a slap across her face that resounded as much as had the crack of the zatoichi's sheathed blade against the attacker's skull. "Leave me alone! For God's sake! Of all the people in this world, in this UNIVERSE, why did YOU have to come along?" The voice, strident with rage and blurred with obvious drunkenness, belonged to Elizabeth Broadbank. "That's a fine attitude to take," said Juri coldly. "Kaitlyn just saved you from - " "S-save it," said Kate shortly. "I d-didn't ex-xpect g-gratitude." "Well, good for you, because you won't get it!" railed Liza. "Don't think for a -minute- that this means I -owe- you or anything." "I d-don't," said Kate flatly. "C-come on, J-J-Juri. L-let's go." She turned and walked away. "Don't you walk away from me, Kaitlyn Hutchins!" Liza cried. "Damn you! What gives you the right to rescue me?! WHAT GIVES YOU THE RIGHT?!!" Kaitlyn ignored her, and a few minutes later she had vanished into the front door of Daniels Hall. Juri, a few steps behind, turned to give one cool look back at Liza, then turned and followed her in. Liza burned with hatred. Of all the people to see her in such a moment of shame - too much to drink, fighting off the odious pawing of that idiot Sean Creighton, a situation she should never have allowed herself to get into in the first place - WHY in the names of all the Centauri gods had KAITLYN been the one to happen upon her? To be SAVED by her, under the eyes of that cursed redhead... She screamed in frustration and smashed a fist into the window the car next to her. Juri felt slightly worried as she and Kate crossed the deserted Wedge and climbed the stairs to the fourth floor of Morgan Hall. Kate's face was still rigid with fury, and despite the extremely rude way she'd been treated by Liza, Juri didn't think that was the reason. Naturally she would be offended by what she had broken up - who wouldn't be? - but there was a rage boiling underneath Kaitlyn's too-composed exterior that Juri had never seen, never sensed the potential for, and truth be told, it actually frightened her a little. The way she'd dealt with Liza's attacker - swift, efficient, painful, vicious... the fearful intensity in her face and eyes now... it worried her considerably. Juri was no stranger to rage - it had overtaken her several times in the past - but hers never lasted, never lingered and seethed the way this did. As they arrived on the fourth floor, she couldn't really think of any way to put all of that into words, so she settled for putting her hand on Kate's shoulder and asking quietly, "Are you all right?" Kate turned to her, and Juri was startled to see her brown eyes full of unshed tears. "No," Kate replied flatly. "Would... " Juri paused, feeling unwontedly awkward. She wasn't very good at this kind of thing; lack of practice, lack of natural inclination, both conspired to hamper her efforts. "Would you... like to talk about it?" "... Yes," said Kate, and she let them into Morgan 412. Martine LeClercq put the last of her few belongings into the plastic travel case, thankful to be leaving this school and this fruitless assignment. She would be more thankful still when she no longer had to share a room with the man standing next to the door. He wasn't much to look at, really - a tall, broad-shouldered man with short-cropped blond hair over an unremarkable face with a rather weak chin. Easily missed in a crowd, except for two things. For one, he was dressed in the intimidating black uniform of a Psi Cop, badge, gloves and all. For another, he possessed the coldest, deadest gray eyes Martine LeClercq had ever had the misfortune to see. A reptile's eyes, like two little chips of slate. They didn't look at anything so much as through it, into its darkest secrets. And right now they were looking at Martine LeClercq. "You're certain you can't give us anything more to go on?" he said, in a calm, smooth voice that was as dead inside as his eyes. "I'm quite certain, Director Tremayne," Miss LeClercq replied, struggling to keep her voice even. Of course, Tremayne was a Psi Cop, rating P12, with the training to back it up; her fear was as obvious to him as the gold Psi Corps badge on his chest was to her. Still, she felt a small sense of victory at being able to maintain an illusion that would have fooled a normal, had any been present. "As you requested, I interviewed every student and faculty member at this institution," Miss LeClercq went on. "As you -ordered-," she went on archly, "I performed an -illegal- surface scan on each and every one of them, in conjunction with the standard white-tiger interrogation method." (Quick! Don't think about a white tiger. Clever, isn't it?) "And you got nothing." "Oh, I got quite a bit," replied Miss LeClercq. "But none of it was of any help in identifying a potential blip in the student population. Frankly, Director Tremayne, I think this whole thing was a wild goose chase - your tip was false." "It was quite credible," said Tremayne mildly. "Anonymous tips are seldom credible," said Miss LeClercq primly. "Especially since they couldn't even be bothered to give a name." The door to the office opened, nearly hitting the Psi Cop, and Miss LeClercq gasped to see who had shoved it open. Elizabeth Broadbank stood in the doorway, her yellow ballgown rumpled, the bodice partly torn away, her hair disheveled, the knuckles of her left hand bloody, her eyes bloodshot and her face haggard with pain and anger. The unmistakable scent of vodka reached both telepaths' noses as the waves of disorganized rage and shame rolled across their mental receptors. "I know who you're looking for," she said. Roger Tremayne, Regional Director for Psionic Enforcement Operations, North America Sector Three, smiled a cold, dead smile and glided smoothly across the room to place his gloved hands on Liza's shoulders. "Talk to me," he said softly. /* The Sisters of Mercy "Under the Gun" _A Slight Case of Overbombing_ */ Eyrie Productions, Unlimited You don't have to say you're sorry presented To look on further down the line UNDOCUMENTED FEATURES Into the sun FUTURE IMPERFECT Too close at heaven - Symphony of the Sword - Love is fine Fifth Movement: But you can't hold it like a... Roses in Springtime Two worlds apart two together The Cast Into that good night kiss away (in order of appearance) One takes the hard, one the other Kaitlyn Hutchins Kiss away Utena Tenjou Corwin Ravenhair Are you living for love? R. Dorothy Wayneright Are you living for love? The Hon. J. Maurice MacEchearn When the road gets too tough Kyouichi Saionji Is your love strong enough? Azalynn dv'Ir Natashkan Amanda Elektra Dessler Are you living Mia Ausa Are you living for love? T'skaia Vorokoshiga'ar Are you living for love? Ixtixtaaqitl't'chl'Vraihelt Ishkarat Janice Barlow Are you living G'Kron Are you living for love? Harcourt M. McKenzie Are you living for love? Wakaba Shinohara Devlin Carter Do you feel your head is Miki Kaoru full of thunder? Juri Arisugawa Questions never end Kitarina Telaia Dragonaar Empty nights alone Dimitrios Makenikos Arbuthnot No wonder Martine LeClercq It all comes back again John Trussell Benjamin D. Hutchins Are you living for love? Kei Morgan Are you living for love? Martin Rose I've been under the gun Eiko Magami Rose I've lost and I've won Skuld Ravenhair Are you living for love? Urd Snowmane Are you living for love? Verthandi Wishbringer Morisato I've been under the gun Keiichi Morisato I've lost and I've won Grand Admiral Noriko Rose Takaya, WDF Olaf Petersson (two, three, four) Adm. Kristan O. Overstreet, CFMF (Ret.) Hanson Davion Forget the many steps to Heaven Nadia Davion It never happened and it ain't so hard Elizabeth Broadbank Happiness is a loaded weapon and a Edward Wong Hau Pepelu Tivrusky IV Short cut is better by far Claudia Montaigne Explosive bolts, ten thousand volts Kraalgh vestai-Kalaan At a million miles an hour Carol Alverson Abrasive wheels and molten metal Sean Creighton It's a semiautomatic, get in the car Shiori Takatsuki Corrosive heart and frozen heat and introducing We're worlds apart where we could meet Roger Tremayne Where the street fold round And the motors start featuring And the idiot wields the power THE CRUSH OF LOVE Where the chosen hold the highest card Joe Graf On the field of honor Domina Kelley Where the ground is hard Jill McElwaine So the highest hand is joking wild Erik Arnulfsson And the house soon fold And no one stand Prosewright I put my finger on and dialed Benjamin D. Hutchins The tower, the moon, the gun and Nine nine nine, singer down Narnwright Cloudburst and all around Kris Overstreet The first are last The blessed get wired Homestretch at Chili's The best is yet to come Anne Cross I put my finger on and fired John Trussell Heatseeking, out of the sun You can set the controls Resident Juriologist For the heart or the knees Philip J. Moyer And the meek'll inherit What they damn well please Featuring the Mini-Bots & Nall Get ahead, go figure Go ahead and pull the trigger Help from the Usual Suspects Everything under the gun SPECIAL BONUS: Complete playlist (annotated) for the Art of Noise's 2405.03.26 show at Sneaky Dee's, Toronto, Ontario, Canada THE ART OF NOISE featuring JOE GRAF MAN, IT'S SO LOUD IN HERE: LIVE IN TORONTO 2405.03.26 (Preliminary Noodling) Weep For [Toshihiko Sabashi] Batman Beyond [Kristopher Carter] (First Set) Higher Place [Journey] Guitar Was the Case [Mono Puff] *Joyride (I Saw the Film) [Tribe] Always with Me, Always with You (Live) [Joe Satriani] *Old Time Rock & Roll [Bob Seger & the Silver Bullet Band] Politically Correct [SR-71] Ondine [They Might Be Giants] Time Won't Let Me [The Smithereens] Don't Stop Believin' [Journey] (First Break) Run Down [Toshihiko Sabashi] *Keyboard Solo [Geoff Downes/Asia] (Second Set) *Girls with Guns [Tommy Shaw] Blue Monday [Orgy] *Crazy Train (Live) [Ozzy Osbourne/Randy Rhoads] *Getting Better [The Beatles] Man, It's So Loud in Here (Hot 2002 mix) [They Might Be Giants] One Big Rush (Live) [Joe Satriani] Behind the Wall of Sleep [The Smithereens] Marionette [Mami Nishikaku] Sold Me Down the River [The Alarm] (Third Set - Disc 2) *I Think I Like It [Boston] *Smooth [Santana] Kryptonite [3 Doors Down] Non-Toxic [SR-71] Go Faster [The Black Crowes] *They Got Lost (Live) [They Might Be Giants] Big Bad Moon (Live) [Joe Satriani] Hyperactive! [Thomas Dolby] King of Emotion [Big Country] (Second Break - Joe Graf on Guitar) The Crush of Love (Live) [Joe Satriani] (Fourth Set) *Heavy Fuel (Live) [Dire Straits] I Don't Want Your Love [Duran Duran] I'm a Believer [Smash Mouth] Right Now [SR-71] To Be Alive Again [Journey] *I Wanna Be Sedated [The Ramones] Friends (Live) [Joe Satriani] *Christmas Eve (Sarajevo 12/24) [Savatage] (Encore) *99 Red Balloons (Deutsche Turismo Edit) [Goldfinger; Deutsche Turismo Edit by John Trussell] [ * denotes a song which is a cover or rewrite in the UF universe (all others are meta-original, usually by Kate/Azalynn) ] THE ART OF NOISE ARE KAITLYN HUTCHINS Lead vocals, keyboards, harmonica, lead guitar on "Always with Me, Always with You", "One Big Rush", "Friends", alternating lead guitar on "I Think I Like It" AZALYNN dv'IR NATASHKAN Lead guitar, backing vocals AMANDA ELEKTRA DESSLER Rhythm guitar, backing vocals THE HONOURABLE J. MAURICE MacECHEARN Bass guitar DEVLIN CARTER Drums, lead vocal on "Girls with Guns" with MIKI KAORU Backing keyboards, male vocal on "Joyride (I Saw the Film)" RINA DRAGONAAR Drums on "Girls with Guns" and "Blue Monday" and special guest star JOE GRAF Lead guitar on "The Crush of Love", dueling lead on "Heavy Fuel" ENGINEERED, RECORDED, MIXED and MASTERED by Miki Kaoru RECORDED LIVE at SNEAKY DEE'S, Bathurst & College, Toronto, Ontario, Canada Saturday, March 26, 2405 Joe Graf appears courtesy of The Crush of Love BEAUTIFUL & TALENTED ROAD CREW Utena Tenjou Wakaba Shinohara R. Dorothy Wayneright CATERING Happy Seven THE ART OF NOISE WISH TO THANK Dimitrios & all the staff at Sneaky Dee's Corwin Ravenhair ("What are you doing here?") Kyouichi Saionji & Juri Arisugawa ("What are -you- doing here?!") Rina Dragonaar ("What are *YOU* doing here?!?!") Roy Chernow They Might Be Giants Conroy's Music Emporium, New Avalon The City of Toronto The Symphony will return with "Hunted Rose"