I have a message from another time... Eyrie Productions, Unlimited presents UNDOCUMENTED FEATURES FUTURE IMPERFECT - SYMPHONY OF THE SWORD No. 2 - First Movement: This Old Dorm Benjamin D. Hutchins with Pearson Mui Kris Overstreet (c) 2001 Eyrie Productions, Unlimited MONDAY, MAY 9, 2405 7:33 AM PORT JERADAR JERADDO, BAJOR SYSTEM Had there been any justice, the first morning of the Duelists' Society's life on Jeraddo would have dawned with the bright, golden light of promise and hope. Instead, it rained. The light coming through the windows of the little downtown hotel called the Jeradar Arms was dim and grey, not very much unlike the average climate of Worcester. The actual weather, however, was not Worcesterlike at all, as spring made one valiant effort to hold on against the approaching Jeraddo summer, and wind and rain pelted the windows. Some of the Duelists found that rather restful - in her bed in room 202, Kaitlyn Hutchins looked positively blissful as she lay curled up, the scrabbling of the rain against her windowpane sculpting her dreams into nostalgic reminiscences of the great Avalon nor'easters that would roll in off Lake Daniels in the fall. Others, on the other hand, found that the whistling wind and rattling windows made it nearly impossible to sleep. The 'nearly' in this case was Harcourt M. McKenzie. Mac had, for some strange reason, decided to leave the hotel room he shared with G'Kron and Moose (the hotel wasn't large enough for individual, or even double, occupancy for all its guests) at one in the local morning to take the castle's internal measurements. Awakened by thunder at four-thirty, G'Kron had noted his roommate's absence, trotted up to the castle, and hauled Mac, his datapad, and his notes back to the hotel just ahead of the first real downpour. Now, at two hours past dawn, Moose worked to wring a breakfast out of the kitchenette's meager supplies, while G'Kron sat in silence studying the Book of G'Quon, occasionally glancing up to note Mac's dead-to-the-world, sprawling slumber. G'Kron glanced up from his book at the first timid knock at the door. Setting down the Book carefully, he stood up, stretched, and worked his way around Mac's cot to the door. After a second of peeping through the spyhole, he muttered, "Gray uniform. It's for Mac." "It would be," Moose said. "I'll see if I can wake him." As G'Kron greeted the courier in the hall - a lieutenant with a CFMF Charlemagne shoulder patch and black hair with a large upward spike that defied the rain's attempts to mat it down - Moose stepped over to the cot and gently shook Mac's shoulder. "Awaken, Sleeping Beauty," he said. "Your princess has arrived." Mac mumbled something that, if intelligible, was probably unprintable. Otherwise he made no sign of movement. "Mac," Moose said a little louder, "wake -up-. You have a visitor." This time there wasn't even a mumble. "If you do not wake up this very minute, Mac," Moose said, standing up to his full height (and nearly clocking himself on the light fixture), "I am quite liable to -sit- on you." One squinted eye peered up from the pillow. "s'no rezzon t'be -rude,-" Mac mumbled, slowly gathering his limbs in from the four points of the compass and drawing himself up into a sitting position. "w'nt c'ffee." Mac's brown hair, rumpled more than his usual neglect, sat atop the head of a young man who has already decided that sunrises are horrible things to see live. His bleary eyes squinted as he tried to bring the grey-clad form of Lt. Tetsuwa Selen into focus. "Midshipsman McKenzie?" she asked, shuffling her way uncertainly into the room. "c'mmshn's 'nactive. need -coffee-," Mac grunted, rubbing his head. "I have a personal message for you from Admiral Nakajima," Lt. Selen said, handing a printout over to Mac. "She would have commed you, but the weather's knocked out the town's com recievers." Mac blinked at Selen, then looked at the paper in his hands. "-NEED- coffee," he said in his first clear voice of the day. "I. Need. VERY. Strong. Coffee." "I'll just re-brew the first pot, then," Moose sighed. Looking at Selen, he added, "I hope you're not upset by this. He's had a rough night." "I've served under Admiral Nakajima for three years," Selen smiled. "I'm used to it. Although she can't stand coffee." Mac sat on his cot, his head still fogged in, while G'Kron said his goodbyes to Lt. Selen for him. A few minutes later, Moose scooped a cupful of rebrewed coffee from the pot and gave it to Mac, who drank it black without a blink. A few seconds later, the fog lifted, and Mac could focus his eyes on the paper for the first time. Mids. Harcourt McKenzie c/o the Jeradar Arms 112 Center Street Port Jeradar, Republic of Bajor Hi! It turns out I'm going to be separated from my task force for a few months. Task Force 6 is going into drydock for a fleet-wide refit to install metadrive units and replace the old engines on all the CFMF's ships. We'll be a lot faster with the new engines - can't tell you how much, it's classified! ^_^ "Did she really type a smiley face?" Moose asked. "I thought only schoolgirls and text-based comp-heads did that." My chief engineer, Shran, is going to remain with the ships to supervise the refit. He says he can get you a summer job on CFA Bethlehem as assistant working on the Charlemagne's refit. I figure, if you're going to study something as boring as space architecture anyway, you ought to get some practical experience when you can! Don't worry, this won't involve a reactivation of your commission. Just offering a civilian job, take it or leave it. We'll have you back at Bajor in plenty of time for your school's re-opening ceremonies - and we'll put in a good word with your instructors for extra credit! Gotta go - I've been temporarily assigned as CFMF liason to the B5 project, since I'm ranking officer in the area once Terri Curtiss leaves. Moving office from Charlemagne to B5 -SUCKS!- But Derek throws great parties. See you in the fall! Aya! ^_^ Mac frowned, staring at the letter he'd just finished reading aloud. "More coffee," he said at last. "It's on the burner," Moose sighed. "You're awake now, you can get it yourself. The walk will do you good." As Mac trod to the kitchenette, Moose read the letter for himself. "I'd think you'd be ecstatic about this. It's a chance to try out the field of your dreams." Mac gulped a swallow of neutron-black coffee and frowned a bit deeper. "The Freespacer Home Fleet leaves the Bajor system for Zeta Cygni the day after B5's official opening ceremonies," he said. "I'll be completely out of reach until mid-August. Won't be able to help with the castle." "Is that why you were out so late last night?" G'Kron asked. Mac nodded. "Got pretty good measurements of the first floor," he said. "S'in my notes, be sure Kaitlyn gets 'em." He took a sip of coffee and added, in a softly angry tone, "Yesterday I borrowed money from my Dad to buy a full set of construction tools for working on the castle. A few hundred marks' worth." "How much in SalCreds?" Moose asked. "About, oh, maybe cr500," Mac sighed. "A complete set. Torches, turbospanners, the whole sausage." "But you can use those on the job, right?" Mac sighed. In a very small voice he added, "I had to promise my father that I would take the ship master's test this week to get the money. I've been putting it off for three years now. On this job," he went on, pointing at the paper, "I wouldn't be -using- any tools. Helpers fetch tools or borrow them from others. They're not trained labor. Even if I -did- need the tools, the pay from three months of construction work is more than enough to pay for the tools, even at helper's wages." "They pay that well?" "They work that hard. Refit jobs aren't like new construction contracts. They're crash programs. You work ten hours a day, seven days a week, without fail. If the parts for the main refit aren't available, they -find- something for you to fix or replace. Although... " Mac paused a moment, calculating in his head. "Four and a half marks an hour after room-and-board allotment... call it seven SalCreds an hour... nine hundred hours... and Dad doesn't expect any payments until after I graduate... sixty-three hundred Salcreds... fifty-six hundred after the Fleet tithe... hmmm... " "Mac? Jeraddo to Mac?" Moose shook Mac's arm, knocking Mac out of his mental calculations. "Sorry. Anyway, of -course- I'll be going. It -is- my career, after all... but I -did- want to work on the castle with the rest of you." Mac sighed, picking up a set of clean clothes and heading for the bathroom. "It's probably better this way, though. I won't get on everyone's nerves this way. I have this tendency to obsess, sometimes." "Perish the thought," said Moose. "I've never noticed," said G'Kron. Mac shrugged, his tongue exhausted from the unusually long workout, and stepped into the shower. As the water began to run, Moose looked at G'Kron, and vice versa, and both breathed a deep, but carefully quiet, sigh of relief. "Is he that bad with your guitar lessons?" G'Kron asked. "Worse," Moose said. "Once he's determined to do something, he doesn't let go easily. And it takes a brick to the head to distract him." "Yes," G'Kron nodded, "a very large brick." "But a very fine gentleman nonetheless." "One of the finest." "Wouldn't hear a word against him." "Nor I." "But it -does- take one hell of a brick." "Perhaps even two hells," G'Kron agreed. "Besides," Moose said with a shrug, "I'll be leaving not long after him. It's a long way to Hoffman, and Mom expects me for her birthday. I probably won't be back until A-term myself. What about you?" "Oh, I'll be staying, for the moment at least," G'Kron smiled. "I have some family coming to the Babylon station whom I haven't seen in -years-. It will be good to spend some time together this summer. I will have to get home, yes, but not immediately." Moose nodded. Looking in the kitchen at the tiny breakfast he'd managed to cobble together, and the coffee nobody but Mac would ever drink, he sighed, "Would you consider waiving your religious views for a day and getting a late breakfast before we see Mac to the shuttle?" 10:45 AM RYAN MATHEWS MEMORIAL SPACEPORT NEW AVALON, ZETA CYGNI Janice Barlow had encountered several Historical Figures in recent days, most of them connected in some way to the cadre of immortals who had founded the Wedge Defense Force back in the late twentieth century. As she stood in one of the smaller starship revetments at Mathews Memorial, however, she reflected that she had never before met one who was so... scruffy-looking. Zefram Cochrane was one of the great heroes of human space travel. He'd invented warp drive, which had revolutionized military and exploratory starship propulsion once he and a couple of friends from the WDF had made it practical. He'd made great advances in astrogation techniques for deep space exploration, dramatically improved the performance of sub-etheric radio, and was one of the key developers of matter transportation technology. He was the chief discoverer of metaspace and the inventor of the metaspace transition point generator. And he was one disreputable-looking individual on a Monday morning, grizzled, rumpled, unshaven, and a bit squinty-eyed. With an unlit cigar clamped in the corner of his mouth and a New Avalon Knights baseball cap crammed down backward on his head, he looked more like a janitor than the inventor of fully half the ways in which the people of the galaxy traveled between stars. He was personable enough, though; he shook her hand firmly as he said in a somewhat reedy voice, "Hey, how are ya? You must be Gryphon's latest prodigy, the Barlow kid, right? Zefram Cochrane, pleased to meetcha. Friends call me Zed." Releasing her hand, Cochrane started prowling around the Rubicon, taking it in from different angles. "Pretty good shape for a Block I," he said. "Transport for some government bigwig?" Janice nodded. "Psi Corps Regional Enforcement Director," she said. Cochrane's eyebrows went up and he gave a low whistle. "Sweet," he remarked. "How'd you get hold of her?" "A couple friends and I, uh, liberated it during all the confusion." Cochrane grinned. "Good for you," he said, and slapped the side of the runabout. "Gryph wants her upgraded to Kennebec-class. We'll try not to touch the interior any more'n we have to," he added, waggling his eyebrows. "OK, cool. Any idea when you'll be done?" "Five, maybe six weeks. We'll let you know. In the meantime, good luck with training," said Cochrane. He keyed open the main hatch, stepped inside, and waved goodbye as the hatch closed again behind him. "Weird guy," Janice observed to Mitra, her ever-faithful, ever-hovering Mag. "I kinda like him." She turned, activated the antigrav cart her luggage was on, and headed for the subway station. Six hours later she was walking through the corridors of Building C, Residence Block, of the Experts of Justice training facility outside the city. Of the city itself she'd seen nothing yet, so busy was she with forms and introductory materials. She'd barely had time for lunch with all the things she had to do to assume her summer internship as an IPO field agent. Now, though, she was at liberty, and as soon as she settled into her quarters, she planned to go back to the N station and head into New Avalon to see the sights. She found the appropriate room (117), punched the entry code into the door, and stepped inside - - where she promptly tripped over something lying on the floor just inside the threshold and fell with a heavy, rather painful WHOMP onto what felt like a large, lumpy rock. "OW!" she announced, rolling off whatever it was and sitting up to get a better look. It did indeed appear to be a rock, roughly oblong, about five feet long by two feet wide by eight inches high, lumpy and mottled in grays and blues. Kind of pretty, for a big lumpy rock that had no reason to be here. "Who the hell," she continued in the same irate tone, "left this big freaking ROCK here?!" "OW!" replied the rock in a sardonic tone of voice. "Who the hell let this clumsy freaking PRIMATE in here?!" Janice blinked. "Um," she said. "I guess," replied the rock dryly, "you've never seen a Horta before." "A whatta?" said Janice. "Horta." "Horta." Janice got up, brushed herself off, and went to the dataterminal by the desk. "Computer?" "Working," replied the computer. "Horta?" "Horta," said the computer promptly. "Sentient silicon-based life form native to Janus VI, Rigel sector. Matriarchal society, Horta League, Federation member since 2375. First Contact officers, Captain James T. Kirk, Commander Spock, USS Enterprise NCC-1701. Available biometric, ecological, and cultural data is extensive." "Uh... thanks." The computer beeped acknowledgement and fell silent. Janice sat down at the desk and regarded the rock for a moment. Now that she got a better look at it, she could see the little cybernetic vocoder built into its upper shell. "Sorry about tripping over you and calling you a freaking rock," she said with a wry grin. The Horta shuffled around slightly; in the coming weeks Janice would come to learn that that constituted a shrug. "My fault for lying in front of the door," it replied. "I thought you'd be arriving tomorrow. It seems we're too be roommates. My name is Keraht." "Uh, Janice Barlow," she said. "And this is Mitra," she added, indicating the football-sized (and, roughly, -shaped) critter hovering timidly behind her right shoulder. "I think he's worried that you'll eat him." "He does look somewhat appetizing," the Horta replied dryly, "but I think I can restrain myself." Without a facial expression - or, for that matter, a face - to go on, Janice couldn't be sure yet if the creature was joking, but she chose to believe it was and laughed. This was going to be interesting... THURSDAY, MAY 12, 2405 2:45 PM JERADDO The Wedge Defense Force Corps of Engineers starship Feng Shui, a Vitruvius-class construction ship, was nearly the size of a Macross-class Super Dimensional Fortress; it dwarfed many modern ships-of-the-line, and was easily the biggest ship that had ever, to anyone's knowledge, orbited the Bajoran moon Jeraddo. For all that, though, the Feng Shui was not a mighty vessel in the same sense that the old Wayward Son had been. Though fairly heavily armored and shielded, she was lightly armed, unmaneuverable, and very slow. Her role was not to do battle, but rather to deliver a battalion of engineers, all their equipment, and supplies enough to build and fortify a decent-size planetary base, to any location in the galaxy, then stand by, support them, and give them a place to live while they did their work. In the last three days, the population of Jeraddo had doubled, and before all was said and done, it would double again - all temporarily, of course. The WDF Corps of Engineers wouldn't be staying all that long - they had a job to finish up by the end of the summer. For the last three days, Kaitlyn Hutchins and her friends had spent their afternoons sitting on the steps of the great, castle-like stone building at the corner of what was to become the campus of the Deedlit Satori Mandeville Memorial Institute, and watched the Engineers prepare the site. They'd cut back the forest to make room for the buildings, roads, and pathways, but not by clearcutting the entire area; the campus was designed to be a part of the site's landscape, not superimposed upon it. Another detachment was working on the road to Port Jeradar, the moon's biggest settlement (population 2,500), which was situated a couple of miles from the school, on the opposite shore of the small lake which separated the hills of the building site from the craggy mountains on the western horizon. The whole area was alive with the rumble of heavy construction equipment, the shouts of workers, and the cheeping of communicators. Kate and her friends had been students at the Worcester Preparatory Institute on Earth, but, thanks to a little misunderstanding with the local government, that Institute no longer existed, and Kate and her friends found themselves distinctly unwelcome within the borders of the Earth Alliance for the time being. So it was just as well that the administration and most of the faculty of their old school had taken Kate's father up on his proposal that they establish a new school here. As Kate sat watching a CoE earthmover flatten part of a nearby hill for the foundation of what was to be the physics building, she noticed a flash of color moving up the larger hill upon which the castle stood - the familiar splash of bright pink that could only mean her roommate and best friend, Utena Tenjou, was approaching. Sure enough, here she came, a roll of paper in her hand, flushed with victory after her visit to the temporary office building the Engineers had erected from which to manage the site. "You g-got 'em?" asked Kate. Utena grinned and spread the rolled paper out upon the steps. "Major Clanton wasn't using the printer just now." When not hanging around on the steps of the old castle and watching the Engineers work, the Institute Duelists' Society had spent much of their time aboard the starship Challenger, Kate's father's command, working with a couple of his officers on a plan for the reconstruction of the castle. It had been abandoned for hundreds, perhaps thousands of years, and though structurally sound, it lacked utilities or even a roof (except for the great bronze dome in the center), and the interior needed a complete overhaul. The WDF Corps of Engineers couldn't get involved in that; their charter specifically prohibited them from modifying or interfering with in any way an artifact of an ancient culture. And the castle was certainly that; it pre-dated, so far as anyone knew, the colonization of Jeraddo by Bajorans. The castle was to be one of the corners of the DSM campus, but aside from landscaping a bit around it, the Engineers couldn't involve themselves with it. The Duelists, on the other hand, were under no such restriction, and they had express permission from the local authorities - in the form of Vedek Bareil Antos, the religious leader under whose authority Jeraddo fell, and Prylar Otano Lompoc, the head of the local monastery whose lands the campus occupied - to rebuild the old structure into their new home and headquarters. Plans for the reconstruction of the Duelists' Castle, as it had become known, had proceeded quickly. The Duelists were talented students - were they not, they would never have been attending WPI in the first place - and with the aid of Lieutenant T'Vek, the Challenger's chief of security and an avid amateur home improver, and Nadia Davion, the ship's chief engineer, they had made great progress in developing solid plans for their summer's work. Utena, the Society's vice-president, carried those plans with her on a datacrystal in the pocket of the scarlet-trimmed black jacket she nearly always wore - and now, with the aid of Major Hiram Clanton, the commander of the Third Battalion, WDF Corps of Engineers, she had just made proper printouts of them. At last, the Society had blueprints in hand... ... now all they needed were materials and tools. "You guys look these over and make sure they're OK," said Utena. "I'll catch a shuttle up to B5, beam over to Challenger and let the Chief know that we're ready to start taking deliveries." "You c-could just c-c-call him, you kn-know," said Kate with a little smile. "Sure, I could," said Utena, "but then I wouldn't get to play with Wolfgang. I'll be back for dinnertime, most likely." The general Duelist consensus to their VP was "have fun" as she turned and trotted off down the hill. It was a pleasant half-hour's walk around the lake to Port Jeradar, where the orbital shuttle station, instantly nicknamed "the bus stop", was located. Utena, who had become something of a celebrity in the little town already for her repeated trips up and down, smiled and waved at people as she made her way through the narrow streets to the station. The building, modern plasticrete and transparisteel, looked somewhat out of place amid the oddly angled walls and pale stucco of the Bajoran dwellings that made up most of the town. She entered, whistling a happy tune, and stopped short as she noticed something rather unusual. There was a girl, probably a year or two younger than Utena, sitting on the bench in the station's small waiting room. She was dressed in faded jeans with threadbare knees, a somewhat crumpled Frostproof shirt that was looking thin at the elbows, and old Chuck Taylors with mostly flat soles. She had dusky skin, brown hair in a pageboy, and, most unusual of all (at least for the setting), the distinctive ridged forehead of a Klingon. The most common Klingon language, known in its own terms only as "the Klingon language" and almost universally known outside the Empire as Klingonese, had possessed no real greetings before 2300. It was a very brusque language, given more to threats and imprecations than social niceties. Still, centuries of interaction with politer species had impressed upon the Klingons the need for such things, at least to make conversations with outlanders go more smoothly, and so the Klingon Language Institute on Qo'noS, the Homeworld, had adapted a few Standard expressions, like "good morning" and "greetings" and so forth, into common phrases. There was still no word for "howdy", but at least now a Klingon-speaker could have a semblance of civility. >Good afternoon,< said Utena to the Klingon girl in her best schoolgirl Klingonese. >Are you lost?< "Mind your own damned business," the girl snapped back in Standard, scowling. Utena blinked, then raised her hands in surrender. "Sorry," she said. "Just trying to be friendly." "It's impossible to be friendly in tlhIngan Hol," grumbled the girl. "Only an idiot would try." "Well, I'm sorry," Utena replied with a conciliatory smile. "I don't know Vulcan." The Klingon girl gave her an odd look, then folded her arms and looked somewhere else. "OK, it was a stupid joke. Cut me some slack, huh? I didn't mean to offend you." Utena sat down on the bench, pulled up one of her feet and regarded the Klingon girl over her knee. "Have you got a name? I'm Utena Tenjou." "B'Elanna Torres," replied the girl reluctantly. Torres. Now there was a Klingon surname unlike any Utena had encountered before. Admittedly, she was only a first-year student of the language and its accompanying culture, and the real intricacies of Klingon family naming customs were well beyond her grasp at the moment, but still - that sounded almost like a human name. She shrugged it off and, still trying to break the ice, said, "So, B'Elanna... what brings you to Jeraddo? You're a long way from home." "I heard there was a construction job here," said B'Elanna sullenly, "but the WDF Corps of Engineers wouldn't hire me. They said I'm too young." "How old are you?" "13. Why? Are you some kind of cop?" As a reserve officer in the International Police Organization Space Force, Utena realized she would have been perfectly justified in replying, "Yes." That didn't strike her as the wisest answer, and anyway it would have been mainly an act of smartassery, so instead she shook her head and said, "Just curious, that's all. You have to admit, it's kind of odd to see a teenage Klingon waiting for an orbital shuttle on Jeraddo." "I'm not a Klingon," B'Elanna muttered. "Uh... huh," said Utena. "OK... you're not a Klingon. Fine. It's kind of odd to see a teenage -anything- waiting for an orbital shuttle on Jeraddo." "-You- are," said B'Elanna, looking ever more annoyed. "True," Utena replied equably, "but then, I'm kind of odd. So anyway - where are you headed now?" The girl-who-was-not-a-Klingon shrugged. "Babylon 5, I guess," she said. "Maybe I'll join the Freespacers before their fleet leaves." Utena might have commented on the advisability or inadvisability of that move, but before she could do so, she was interrupted by a loud sound. There was a rather awkward silence. "When was the last time you had something to eat?" Utena inquired conversationally. "I dunno. Two, three days," B'Elanna replied, trying hard to sound unconcerned. "Mm. Well, I'm not gonna tell you what to do," said Utena airily, "'cause I'm sure you can take care of yourself, and I'm not gonna offer you charity, 'cause I'm sure you've got your pride and all." "Thanks," said B'Elanna dryly. "On the other hand, if you were to just randomly decide to skip this shuttle and walk around to the other side of the lake, up to that big old nifty-looking castle building the Engineers are staying away from, and tell the brown-haired girl with glasses and a stutter that I sent you, she might introduce you to an MRE. Not out of pity or anything, you understand, but just to be neighborly." "Uh-huh," B'Elanna replied skeptically. "And if you like construction, well... that old castle needs a lot of work, and the Corps of Engineers can't touch it, so we're doing it alllll ourselves... and we could always use more hands. Especially since our Hoffmanite bailed on us, the bastard. His mother's birthday," she said, rolling her eyes with mock scorn in her voice. "-Please-." B'Elanna glanced sidelong at Utena, one eyebrow raised, and said nothing. Utena put her hands behind her head, stretched her body like a bow, and then relaxed, looking up at the ceiling. "Y'know," she said, as if talking to herself and not relating any relevant information to any other person, "I've got a real weakness for the lost-puppy type." B'Elanna studied her for a few long seconds, then got up and shouldered her duffel bag. "You're weird," she informed the pink-haired Duelist, then turned and scampered from the shuttle station. Utena smiled up at the plasticrete ceiling. "I know," she told the empty room. Kaitlyn and the other Duelists were doing what, in construction circles, is lightly termed "site preparation." In the case of the old temple (or whatever it really was), that involved clearing out a lot of debris. In between design sessions with Nadia and T'Vek, they'd been swamping junk, fallen plaster, moldering old leaves, animal nests and other assorted detritus out of the building for several days now, and as they made progress, what they found was encouraging. The building's interior wasn't as bad off as they'd initially thought. Most of the interior walls were of the same beautiful red and gold stone as the outside (they'd thought it gray at first sight, but as it turned out, it had just desperately needed a power-washing), and proved to be just as sturdy. As Kate had toured it, room by arduously cleared room, she and the others had mapped the place and taken their best guesses as to what the various rooms were used for. The ground floor contained a great entrance hall which was actually two stories high, for most of the front half of the building. There had been grand staircases on both sides, but now there was only one. Behind this, the first floor had what the students took for kitchens, storage areas, a library perhaps, and what appeared to have been - they thought - a ballroom. The second floor - that part of it that wasn't the continuation of the great hall - contained a number of quite small, mostly featureless rooms that almost looked like detention cells. That, so far, was as far as they'd made it. Kate sat on the steps, frowning thoughtfully with the plans for their renovations spread out on her lap, wondering when Utena was going to get back and explain the mysterious Klingon girl who'd bummed an MRE and was now helping Saionji muck out the northeast corner of the third floor. A shadow fell across the blueprints. Goodness, another one? she thought, and looked up. Standing over her was a girl in her middle-late teens, tall and rangy, dressed in an iridescent green coverall with a sort of sleeveless tabard belted over it. Embroidered on her chest was a symbol, three interlocked green triangles. From the belt of her tabard hung a number of tools and instruments, and she had a canvas toolbag slung over one shoulder. She had very pale skin, an aquiline nose, and no hair; instead, from the back of her head, she sported a tidily crenelated ridge of grayish-white bone. Kate blinked, then rolled up the blueprints, jumped to her feet, and cried, "Ch-Chenann!" "You started without me!" cried the Minbari girl in a lightly accented tone of mock indignation. Then she caught Kate up in a hug (careful not to bruise her friend with any of the various tools hanging from her belt), backed up, and said, "Let me see what kind of trouble you've got planned." Kate grinned, and the two sat down on the steps to spread out the blueprints and talk them over. Presently, another shadow crossed the paper, and they looked up to see Saionji, smudged and rumpled, and the mystery girl, what's her name, B'something - looking pleased with themselves. "The rooms on the third floor are bigger," said the Klingon girl, who looked markedly more cheerful than she had when she arrived. "We think they're probably bedrooms." "Or, at least, they -can- be," Saionji added, nodding. Having delivered himself of his report, he seemed to notice that Kate was with someone - someone he didn't recognize, to boot - and he paused, looking a bit puzzled. Kate smiled. "Th-this is Ch-Chenann," she said, indicating the Minbari girl. "Sh-she was a j-junior l-last year." Chenann stood up, brushed off the knees of her coveralls, and said, "I had to go home Christmastime, when the Grey Council yanked my passport." She sounded rather annoyed about it. "Judging by Network 23, I missed all the excitement." Kate sighed. "You d-don't know the h-h-half of it," she said. "Ch-Chenann, this is K-Kyouichi Saionj-ji. You r-rem-member him - w-week before Ch-Christmas he t-t-tried to k-kill Utena and m-me." Saionji looked mildly embarrassed. "I wasn't well," he offered, by way of explanation. "Ah," said Chenann. "And this," said Saionji, "is our mystery guest." "B'Elanna Torres," said B'Elanna. "I'm just... sort of passing through." Chenann glanced around. "Jeraddo is a weird place to be 'passing through'," she observed. "So people keep saying," replied B'Elanna, frowning. "OK," said Saionji, "back to work. You've earned your lunch, now it's time to get started earning supper. A pleasure to meet you, Chenann." Chenann grinned. "Yeah, you too." As they left, she hunkered down by the plans again. "Cute guy for a human psychopath," she noted. "He g-g-grows on you," Kate agreed, nodding absently. Utena returned shortly before the Duelists gathered and adjourned to the Jeradar Arms in Port Jeradar, where they were staying until the castle's interior was something approaching habitable. On the walk back to town, Kate introduced Chenann around to those who hadn't had a chance to meet her; Utena handled the remaining introductions to her bus-station foundling. Chenann looked interested when Kate introduced her to Mia Ausa. "Hmm," she said. "Ausa, that's a Minbari name." "My mother was Minbari," said Mia, nodding. "Interesting," said Chenann. "What caste are you?" The question seemed to flick a switch inside Mia's head and deactivate her good mood; it brought an instant frown to her face. "Neither," she replied sourly. Chenann looked enlightened. "Ah," she said. Then, smiling a little maliciously, she added airly, "So you're a Worker, like me?" Mia blanched, then blushed, the ebb and flow of color in her face making for quite a show against her pale-white skin (one of her birthrights from her Minbari mother). "I... I'm... " she stammered. "I don't get it," said B'Elanna Torres. "Oh, well, you see, B'Elanna," said Chenann in a cheerily instructive tone, "Minbari society is divided into three castes: The Religious caste, who pontificate on high and look down their noses at the rest of the universe; the Warrior caste, who polish their weapons and prepare for a war that ended two thousand years ago; and the Worker caste, who actually -do- everything." She grinned lightly and added, "The Prayers and the Fighters have a tendency to forget about that last part." Mia sputtered for a few moments longer, then gathered herself, stopped walking, and bowed her head. "I apologize. It was a stupid, thoughtless remark." Chenann thumped her on the shoulder. "Forget it," she said. "Happens all the time. Anyway, from the way you said it, sounds like you've got an axe to grind... " She blinked as if just noticing something, leaned a little closer, and took a good squint at the silver-mounted opalescent gem Mia wore on her lapel. "... -Very- interesting," she added. "I've heard of those, but never actually seen one before. Is it real?" Mia drew herself up. "Of course it's real," she replied, slightly stuffily. "You never can tell nowadays," Chenann replied, shrugging. The two of them (and B'Elanna, who had stopped with them, as she seemed to find their entire interaction fascinating) started walking again, following the others. Chenann went on, "Some people have a really weird idea of what's funny." MONDAY, MAY 16 7:44 AM CRESCENT HEIGHTS MIDDLE SCHOOL NEW AVALON, ZETA CYGNI DYSON SPHERE Charles Philip "Chip" Mui could think of better places to be on the first day of finals week. It wasn't that he lacked in scholastic ability or enthusiasm. As a matter of fact, he was rather looking forward to finishing out his career at Crescent Heights Middle School on a high note, and had no particular fear that he would fail in that regard. He had no qualms about the faculty or the uniform that he had to wear (which, despite his lanky frame, he thought looked decent on him). Over the course of the school year, he'd become rather fond of the place, and though, like everyone else, he'd be sorry to see the last of the place as he moved on to, most likely, Friedrich Koopman Memorial High School in the following year. It was hardly an auspicious start to one's last week of school, however, to be shoved into one's locker. To make matters worse, the door was securely shut behind him, and the voice override had been sabotaged. Fortunately, none of the lockers was airtight, so his situation was more humiliating than life-threatening. Sadly, as situations like his are wont to do, things got worse. His protests managed to draw a sizable crowd, and absolutely no help. A few teenage boys wove through the crowd and knocked on his locker door. "Yeah?" he replied, his voice reverberating slightly. "How'd you end up in there?" a rather clueless-sounding boy's voice asked. Chip groaned. "Somebody thought that I was Houdini and decided to test me out," he joked sardonically. "Who's Houdini? came the less-than-informed query. Nobody could see him roll his eyes in exasperation, but he did so anyway. "Never mind." "Don't you have anything else better to do?!" a female voice exclaimed, presumably addressing the crowd. With some muttering, they mostly dispersed. "Are you okay, Chip?" It was his sister, Reiyna. "I've been better. Do you know my combination?" "Hang on... " She rapidly typed in a series of digits, then exhaled noisily in disgust. "No good. They really messed with the lock. I don't have the tools to cut you out, so I guess I'll have to call the custodian - " "Mind if I try something?" a vaguely familiar male voice asked. "Umm... sure... " The sudden shift in the tone of his sister's voice drew Chip's attention. It wasn't often that Reiyna went in awe of someone, but that's what it sounded like. He heard a series of beeps, followed by the blessed sound of the lock disengaging. The locker door swung open, and he was helped out by two pairs of hands. Stretching, he got a good look at his savior. The savior in question was a bit older than Chip, with coal-black hair that diverged into improbably spiky forelocks. His ice-blue eyes held both a mixture of disgust (at the prank played at Chip's expense) and mild curiosity (about the poor jerk who'd gotten stuffed into his locker). He was pocketing an electrolock confounder inside his uniform jacket. "You okay?" he asked. "Just peachy," Chip replied. "Remind me not to become a contortionist. Thanks - hey, aren't you Corwin Ravenhair?" "That's me," he confirmed. "You're the guy that's gonna be a god someday, right?" Chip continued. Corwin put his hand behind his head and looked a bit awkward. "Uh, well... someday... " "In that case, isn't this where I pledge my undying fealty to you?" Chip joked. Corwin looked suitably mortified. "I'd rather you didn't." "Well, tough... you've got it anyway." Chip then proceeded to bow at the waist in supplication, chanting, "I'm not worthy." Reiyna looked on, clearly amused at both her brother's antics and the discomfort that Corwin was experiencing. "OK, OK, cut it out," Corwin urged Chip, mock-smiting him with one of his books. "Get to class already." "At once, it shall be done, O mighty one." Corwin sighed, rolled his eyes good-naturedly, and moved off down the hall in the opposite direction, returning Reiyna's farewell wave as she tugged her brother around a corner and down an adjoining corridor. He supposed it was an all-right sort of day, for a Monday, but Corwin was somewhat preoccupied, and found himself wishing Friday would come sooner. He liked school, and under normal circumstances he'd have been trying to savor his last week at Crescent Heights, which had been the site of many a happy time in the last three years... but the plans he had for his summer made him anxious to get started. The holder of a starship master's certificate, he had been recruited by his sister's prep-school roommate, Utena Tenjou, to teach her the things she would need to know in order to pass the exam for her own master's cert. The examination, which covered such widely varying subjects as astrogation, hazard management, damage control and emergency repairs, flight maneuvering, communications protocol, interstellar shipping law, and elementary FTL physics (among other things), was widely reputed to be brutal, and Corwin, having experienced it the summer before, knew that reputation to be deserved. He was confident that Utena could pass it, but he was also confident that it would take the two of them most of the summer to cover everything she would need to know in sufficient detail. He'd warned her up front, when she'd asked him to teach her, that she would have to take risks, work hard, and be prepared to get dirty. Which suited Utena down to the ground, anyway, since she was by nature a hoyden, boisterous, bold and fearless almost to the point of foolhardiness. Throughout her life, she'd encountered people who wanted her to slow down, quiet down, and be more ladylike, but Corwin, who had grown up surrounded by women such as the Valkyrie, thought she was just about damned near perfect the way she was. He'd known her for about five months, since Christmastime, and except for family (his sister Kate, his cousin Hiroshi), he was fully prepared to call her his best friend in the universe at this point. Damn! What a summer this was going to be! Sure, he'd have to crash on his mother's couch all summer (except for the excursions that lasted more than a day), exiled from his room so that Utena could use it, but so what? A summer of high-speed adventure, Aunt Bell's cooking, mechanical tinkering, quiet evenings with games and long conversations, the wonders of the galaxy to explore... bliss. But first he had to get through finals week. Corwin stopped walking suddenly and looked around. Where the hell was he going? He was nearly to the music department. Hadn't he been headed for Mr. Sulak's science classroom? Why was the hall so deserted? The bell rang. Oh. Corwin sighed, turned, and ran the other way. "No running in the halls, Mr. Ravenhair," Mrs. Kelly, one of the Standard Literature teachers, admonished him in a singsong voice from the doorway to her classroom. He slowed to a walk, giving her an apologetic salute, and she gave him a cautionary nod, went into her room, and shut the door behind her. At which point he broke into a run again. Fortunately, Mr. Sulak wasn't a particularly vindinctive teacher. He was a Vulcan, after all. He simply assigned Corwin his rightful two demerits for tardiness (a bit meaningless in his last week at the school, but the rules are the rules!) and left it at that, rather than demanding an explanation and/or issuing a lecture on the Importance of Punctuality to the Civilization of the Galaxy. Mrs. Kelly would have given the lecture. Corwin was glad he didn't have her for a class this year. Nall Silverclaw, Corwin's catlike companion who claimed to be a white dragon, launched himself from his seat on the shoulder of a slightly-disgruntled-looking brunette girl in the third row and landed on Corwin's shoulder as he received his demerits. Corwin acknowledged his punishment gracefully and went to sit down next to the girl Nall had been with when he arrived. "As I was saying," said Mr. Sulak calmly, "today you will undergo the elementary hyperphysics practical exam phase. You will be performing a simple element transmutation experiment with the supercolliders. Please break up into your lab teams and set up your colliders on the lab tables." Corwin smiled. He liked collider experiments. He went to one of the lab tables in the back of the room; the girl Nall had been sitting with followed, as did a pleasant-faced blonde girl with glasses who had been sitting up front. "What happened to make you late, Mr. Corwin?" asked Fuu Hououji as Corwin set up their collider - a black polycarb box about the size of a big suitcase, with a disorienting tangle of wires surrounding a silver metal donut that filled most of the interior space - in the center of their slate-topped lab table. The little dragon ruffled his wings in irritation, refurled them against his back, and jumped up onto his lab partner's shoulder to observe the experiment. "Nothing real exciting," said Corwin as he connected the collider's power input to the socket on the corner of the table. "Wandering around in a rose-scented haze again?" the brunette wondered. "No," Corwin snapped. Nall turned to the green-eyed brunette and grinned. "You believe him, Buttercup?" "Nope," she replied, grinning back. "Yeah, me neither. You'd be more believable," Nall informed the young demigod, "if your ears didn't turn red when you said that." "Shut up and help me calibrate the cyclotron, furball," growled Corwin. Fuu merely smiled and started ruling out the experimental flowchart on a blank page of her notebook. By that Friday, the DSM construction site looked like a proper construction site. All the temporary buildings were up, the roadbeds were cut, and the building lots delineated. Excavators were working on the foundation holes for the Science Center and the Administration Building (formal names to be announced at the school's grand opening) while the surveyors finalized detail work at the other end. Down in Port Jeradar, the infrastructure improvements were also proceeding apace; the spaceport was coming along nicely, its temporary control center and the first few light-starship revetments already completed. It wasn't expected to be a very busy port, but given that the old shuttle station had pretty much comprised all of Jeraddo's spaceport facilities, -some- expansion was called for. That Friday afternoon, the new spaceport got its first customer. The Duelists were outside, enjoying a sunny afternoon and throwing debris into a Dumpster thoughtfully provided by the Corps of Engineers when, with a low, leisurely scream of fusion turbines, a black wing shape darted across the horizon. It banked low over the Duelists' Castle, winging over so the sunlight glittered on its silver go-faster stripes, then rolled out and headed for Port Jeradar. "He certainly knows how to make an entrance," Chenann mused as several of the others waved at the receding shape. "It's in his blood," said Utena offhandedly. She finished heaving a chunk of... whatever that was, plaster, maybe? - into the Dumpster, dusted off her hands, and said, "Guess that means it's about time to get ready, huh, Kate?" Kate took out her pocket watch, consulted it, then tucked it away in the watch pocket of her jeans again and nodded. "J-just about," she said. An hour later, the One-Hit Wonder departed from Port Jeradar and docked aboard Babylon 5 in plenty of time. The Institute Duelists, now decked out in formal garb, were conducted by a smartly dress-uniformed Lieutenant Reed to the Arboretum, where the station's staff and crew were gathered, along with representatives of the galaxy's press and the Pact Babylonica's signatories, for the station's opening ceremonies. For all that most of the galaxy didn't seem to think the station was a very good idea, its opening was a gala occasion all the same. Hundreds of beings were arranged on temporary seating in the green and pleasant setting of the Arboretum for the speeches, which were as dull as one might expect, and the ceremonial cutting of the ribbon, which was utterly meaningless in what had been an operational, if understaffed and purposeless, space station for almost a month. One by one, the ambassadors from the various major and minor powers which had sent representatives to Babylon 5 stepped up and made brief statements saying how honored they were to be a part of this historic endeavor. In very few cases did they seem at all sincere. One of them in particular was met with a sharp intake of breath from one of the Jeraddo contingent, though the content of his remarks had little to do with it. "(What's the matter?)" Mia Ausa asked quietly. B'Elanna Torres leaned toward her and whispered urgently, "(Nobody told me there was going to be a Klingon ambassador!)" "(Well, of course. The Klingon Empire is one of the Project's strongest supporters. Why? What's the matter?)" "(I can't let him see me!)" "(What - never mind. Don't worry, we're well away from the front, he won't notice you. When the ceremony's over we'll... figure something out.)" B'Elanna nodded, but sat tense and nervous through the rest of the speeches, never taking her eyes off the side of the reviewing stand on which the Klingon Ambassador sat. After the ambassadors had their say, International Police Organization chief Ben Hutchins (Kate and Corwin's father, known to most as Gryphon) took the podium to give a short rundown of the IPO's mission and say how pleased he was to be involved with the Babylon Project. Then there was a little speech by the Babylon Foundation's founder, MegaZone (which was, Utena thought, disappointingly free of non sequiturs). Somebody from the Bajoran government talked about how excited Bajor was to be hosting "the Great Experiment". Then Gryphon returned to the podium to introduce the station's command staff. In overall charge of the station was Commander Jer Johnson of the IPO Space Force, formerly a Wedge Defense Force officer and still on the rolls of that august organization's reserves. His deputy commander was Lieutenant Susan Ivanova of the United Federation of Planets Starfleet. The station's Bajoran liaison officer, Major Kira Nerys, doubled as chief of security. Dr. Julian Bashir from Starfleet Medical had overall charge of the station's extensive medical facilities, and looked as happy about it as a man could possibly look with all his clothes on. Rounding out the command staff was another man the Duelists hadn't met before, in the black-jacketed dress uniform of the IPO Space Force. He looked to be in early middle age, with curly reddish hair, and seemed a bit nervous and uncomfortable; he kept fidgeting with the cuffs of his sleeves and the turtleneck collar of his green Service Division undershirt. Gryphon introduced him as the station's chief engineer, Chief Warrant Officer Miles O'Brien. Gryphon then introduced his IPO Space Force comrade, Captain Krontep vathKesek of the Imperial Klingon battlecruiser HoSghaj, and the commanders of the starships that had assisted his own Challenger in joint defense operations until the station's defense grid was up and running: WDF Captains H.H. Hanson of the Renown and Edward Pellew of the Indefatigable, and CFMF Vice Admiral Ayami Nakajima and her staff. As he took back the podium, the IPO commander had a curious little smile on his face. "Some of you may know," he said, "that we've had a bit of bureaucratic trouble getting the Wedge Defense Force on board as a Pact Babylonica signatory. They've been gracious enough to help us out with the station's defense during construction, but for a while there, it didn't look like they were going to set up a formal liaison and participate in the project itself." His smile broadened as he went on, "Well, it turns out that it wasn't so much a misunderstanding as a deliberate stall; Field Marshal Ritchie has a unique sense of history. He wanted to see how many organizations and governments would come on board -not- knowing that the WDF was throwing its full support behind the project... and now that he knows that, he's willing to commit that support. So, at the last -possible- instant, please welcome our liaison officer from the Wedge Defense Force - Captain Derek Bacon." Applause washed over the reviewing stand as, from behind a nearby curtain, a very large man in the blue and white, double-breasted, brass-buttoned uniform of the Wedge Defense Force emerged, smiling and waving. At first sight of him, Utena thought he must be a Hoffmanite, a heavy-gravity genemod, like her friend Moose MacEchearn. This man wasn't as tall as Moose, who was over seven feet tall - he looked, in fact, about the same height as MegaZone - but where MegaZone was of impressive, imposing build, this man was -massive-, built like a bridge abutment. His uniform looked as if it might be having trouble containing him. He had a very round and very friendly face with a broad, open grin and extremely bright eyes. His sandy hair was shaved except for a strip about two inches wide in the center of his scalp, which was long enough to be drawn back into something like a Klingon warrior's queue at the back of his neck. Silver datajacks gleamed above his right ear. Derek Bacon strode to the podium, shook hands with Gryphon, and then turned and spoke into the microphone. Utena got another surprise at this. Just from the size of him, and from his build's resemblance to that of Moose, she'd expected Bacon to have a Hoffmanite's voice, too - deep and saturated, like an earthquake trying to talk. Instead, it was actually on the slightly-high side of mid-range, the sort of voice that, had Utena closed her eyes, would have put her in mind of somebody built about like wiry Commander Johnson. "Hey hey HEY!" said Bacon. "How's everybody doing? Me? I'm GREAT!" "Kai the Captain!" cried Krontep, and those members of his command staff with him joined in. Zargh Thalekh had the distinct and particular look of a man who has just found something very, very unpleasant floating on top of a bowl of his favorite soup. "I'm very excited to be part of this," said Bacon, his grin threatening to damage his face if it got any wider. "My only regret," he went on, "is that I won't be here full-time, because -this- is going to be -the- place to be." Zargh looked relieved. Dr. Bashir nodded in sage agreement with Bacon's sentiments as the Wedge Defender went on, "But I'll be in the neighborhood. Harry and Ed are heading home now that the station's online, but I'll be joining Gryph and Krontep, keeping this place safe for democracy." Most of the attendees had no idea what the hell he meant by that, particularly, but they applauded anyway; the man's enthusiasm was infectious. "This concludes the official opening ceremonies," said MegaZone, "which means," he added dryly, "there are no more boring speeches to sit through, and you can have at the food." So they did. The Duelists regrouped; now that the ceremony had broken up into what was essentially a massive buffet gathering, B'Elanna was growing more nervous by the minute, and something had to be done about it. "Well, look, what are you afraid of?" Utena wondered. "I mean, I know Zargh's a big stiff, but he's mostly harmless." "Not to me," B'Elanna insisted. "Don't you get it? He's the Klingon Ambassador. I'm a missing person under his jurisdiction. If he spots me and figures out who I am, he'll have to send me back to Qo'noS." Utena considered saying, "I thought you weren't a Klingon," but discarded it as unproductive and overly snarky. "You're a -runaway-?" said Juri, a little sharply. "What did you think, I was trying to get a job at a construction site on a Bajoran moon for a summer school project?" B'Elanna shot back. Juri had to admit she had a point. "Look, I don't have time to tell you my whole life story, OK? My mother's family on the Homeworld have legal custody of me. They're really strict and really traditional - I mean, the full Cult of Kahless treatment, all right? - and I had to get out or I was gonna go -nuts-. Or get killed. My Uncle Klayvor has a really weird idea of what builds character." "What about your father?" asked Mia, who, as B'Elanna told her abbreviated story, had grown more and more sympathetic-looking. "Dead," said B'Elanna, "or he might as well be, as far as I'm concerned. I've got to get out of here." Kaitlyn frowned thoughtfully. "Y-y-you're w-with us," she said finally. "I-if y-y-you... " She sighed and looked at Utena. "Kate's right," said Utena, picking up the thread without trouble. "If you go running off without one of us, Security will pick you up, and then - " "Hey kids," said the friendly voice of Commander Jer Johnson, almost startling the concentrating little knot of Duelists out of their skins. B'Elanna looked about ready to try hiding behind Mia. "Problem? Not enjoying the party?" "Oh, uh, it's fine, Commander," said Utena. "It's just... um... B'Elanna's not feeling well." B'Elanna's frightened expression took on an additional layer that basically said, "That lame excuse is the best you could think of?" as she turned to look at Utena, who shrugged. Jer looked from Utena to the Klingon-looking girl and back, then turned and peered over the crowd to where a suffering-looking Zargh was being harangued by a cheery-looking Krontep in the buffet line. Then he turned back with a sly smile on his face. "First, have a bunny," he said, and thrust the gray rabbit he was carrying into B'Elanna's arms. "Second, give me a second." He tapped the call button on the communicator he wore on the back of his hand and said into it, "Jer to O'Brien." "Go ahead, Commander," said an Irish-brogued voice in response. "C'mere a minute. I've got a little job for you." "On my way." A minute later, the curly-headed chief engineer worked his way out of the crowd and came to the side of the group, looking interested. "What's up, Commander?" he asked. "Chief O'Brien, everybody, everybody, Chief O'Brien," said Jer breezily. "See the girl with the bunny? Take her down to Gray Sector and show her the toys or something. Don't let Ambassador Killjoy see her. Got it?" O'Brien looked at B'Elanna, then turned and glanced across the crowd at Zargh. "I assume you mean Ambassador Thalekh," he said with a wry grin. "Yeah, 'sright," said Jer. "Do a Level 2 diagnostic on the defense grid, or like that. You know. Interesting stuff, not boring crap like the fusion reactors. You're excused from the rest of the shindig, take as long as you like." O'Brien's grin became a lot less wry. "Count on me, sir," he said. "I always do," said Jer. He took his bunny back from B'Elanna and indicated the chief engineer. The girl cast a nervous glance around, but the Duelists were nodding and smiling, so she nodded herself, swallowed, and went with him. "Thanks," said Utena once the two had vanished through the bulkhead into the outer station. "No problem," Jer replied, petting Bailey absently. "I consider it part of my job to keep Zargh from ruining people's days as much as possible," he added with a grin. "C'mon, Bailey, let's go see if JR left us anything in the salad bar." As soon as they were out of the Arboretum, Chief O'Brien sighed, took off his dress uniform's jacket, and rolled his sleeves up to the elbows. "Don't like formal occasions, huh?" asked B'Elanna. O'Brien smiled sheepishly. "Not particularly," he said. "Part of the job, sometimes, but I'd rather be seeing to my station." "Sorry about getting dumped on you like that. I'll try to stay out of your way." "Don't worry about it," said O'Brien. "I'm Miles O'Brien, by the way. I didn't catch your name." "B'Elanna. B'Elanna Torres." "Well, B'Elanna, as it happens, I've got a transporter pattern matrix in Red Sector Room 2 that needs recalibrating, if that won't bore you too much." "Anything's better than going back to Qo'noS," she replied, trying out a faint grin. It seemed to feel all right, so she left it. "I don't know anything about transporters, though." "Well, that's all right. It's usually a solo job anyway," said O'Brien. "You can just... hand me tools and the like. OK?" "OK." "That was remarkably perceptive of Commander Johnson," Juri mused as she and Kaitlyn stood next to each other in the buffet line. "Mm," said Kate. "I'm a l-little w-w-worried, though." "Worried? What about?" "G-given the f-fascin-nation she's shown for c-construction and en-n-ngineering," said Kate, "I'm n-not sure w-we'll ever get B-B'Elanna b-b-back." Juri chuckled. "I'm sure Chief O'Brien will get tired of her eventually and send her on her way." "So," said Krontep ebulliently. "What is this mysterious assignment? You said you'd be taking over for Hanson and Pellew. Does that mean you have another command?" Derek Bacon grinned. "Yup. They're actually trusting me with a ship that crews more than a dozen, if you can imagine it." "They gave -me- a station with a -quarter million-," said Jer, who now had a bunny on each shoulder, one working on a lettuce leaf, the other nibbling at his teal hair. "But I expect running a space station is like being a system admin. 90% of the users just want to get on with their jobs. 10% want to play silly buggers and see what they can get away with." "10% of 250,000 is a lot of silly buggers," Krontep observed. "Mm," said Jer. "But I've got good assistant admins," he added with a grin. "I pity anybody who tries to put anything over on Ivanova and Kira. They'll fight over who gets to gnaw on the bones." "Well, don't keep us in suspense, Captain," said Krontep, nudging his old commander. "What's your new command?" "From Babylon 5, I'm John Trussell. Good night." "OK," the flat voice of G-3N3, the Network 23 Field Assistance Droid who usually served as Truss's camerabot, announced. "We're clear." The gray-painted droid lowered the big Net23 ethercam rig and nodded his snouty head. "Good show, boss." "Not bad at all," concurred the holographic image of Truss's machine-intelligence controller, Al. "Thanks," said Truss wryly. "OK, Gene, take the camera back to the ship and pack up for the night. We'll move into the office tomorrow." "Roger roger," replied Gene, and he turned on his heel and marched away. "So now what?" asked Al as Truss started navigating the crowd. The garishly-dressed middle-aged-looking image flowed through the crowd without bothering to move aside; instead, he just walked through people. No one noticed him, because no one else could see him. When Truss had first received the neural implant that permitted Al to enter his sphere of sensory input undetected by others, he'd found that effect extremely disconcerting; now he was used to it, and the only thing he found disconcerting was Al's hideously garish virtual wardrobe. "Now," said Truss, "I'm going to find Mia, and you're going to go away and leave me alone." Al mock-scowled. "OK, fine," he said. "I know when I'm not wanted." With a harrumph, he vanished. "If only," Truss murmured, smiling. A few moments later, he located his target, sitting at one of the long buffet tables with the rest of the Duelists. "Is this a private table?" he asked, smiling. Mia's face lit up. "Dad!" she cried, jumping up and enfolding him in her arms. "I figured you might be here. Everyone, this is my father, John Trussell." "He looks... somehow familiar," said Kyouichi Saionji dryly. "Yeah," concurred Wakaba Shinohara. "I could swear I've seen him somewhere before." "I get that a lot," Truss replied. "People say I look like somebody famous. Personally, I can't see the resemblance," he added. "Heyo, Gryph. Nice introduction you did, there." Gryphon gave Derek Bacon a sardonic look. Bacon shrugged. "Just trying to say something nice," he said with a grin. "Hey, got a minute? You were out on patrol and missed most of the diplomatic arrivals. Let me introduce you to some of the ambassadors." "Sure," said Gryphon, with a faint, enigmatic smile. The crowd had thinned out considerably in the hour since the buffet opened, and locating diplomatic personnel was not difficult. The first ambassador they found was especially easy to find, since he was standing at the corner of the wet bar with MegaZone, carrying on a rather loud, rather lubricated conversation. "... keeps your hair up like that, anyway?" Zoner was asking as Gryphon and Derek approached. "The thought of my wives!" replied the other, a rather portly man in a very ornate purple jacket and sporting the usual outlandish Centauri hairdo that looked rather like a black peacock fan. "Excuse me," said Derek, "Ambassador? I'd like to introduce you to the Chief of the International Police - " The Centauri turned, focused his drink-brightened eyes on the IPO chief, then grinned broadly and flung his arms open. "-Gryphon-!" he declared, clapping the one he named firmly on both shoulders. "Friend Gryphon, how -are- you? It has been -years-! You have come up in the world, I see, while I... " He shrugged eloquently, leaned forward, and said in a tone of broad confidentiality, "Londo Mollari, my friend, is, like his empire, in a definite state of decline." "You're looking fine to me, Londo," Gryphon lied with a smile. "A little drunk, but then you did some of your best flying a little drunk... " "Ah, no, there you are wrong, my friend. I did my -best- flying when I was a -lot- drunk!" Mollari laughed uproariously. "And with the help of my dear and good friend MegaZone, that is what I intend to be in another hour or so." Gryphon glanced at Zoner; Zoner shrugged with a "well, what can I do?" expression. "Well, I'll leave you to it, then," said Gryphon. "We'll have to have lunch sometime." "I would enjoy that," said Mollari with the extra-careful enunciation of the inebriated, "just so long as you are buying." That struck him as very funny, and he let out another great peal of laughter before turning back to his drink. Gryphon shook his head as he and Derek moved away. "Poor bastard," he muttered. "Didn't know you knew him," said Derek. "Yeah... it was a long time ago. Back in the Exile, I was first mate on his trading ship for a while. He was a bit of a pirate back in those days. When we parted ways, back in '58, he was headed back to Centauri Prime to clean up his act and try to get into a respectable line of work." Gryphon sighed, shrugging. "Well, it looks like he got it... " Derek nodded. "Well... now that the place is online, maybe he'll be too -busy- to drink." "We can only hope." "Anyway... ah! Here we are." Derek led the way to a large, imposing Narn who was at that moment in conversation with a younger member of the same species - Kaitlyn's classmate G'Kron, in fact, Gryphon noticed as they approached. "Ambassador G'Kar," said Derek. "Excuse me for interrupting. I wanted to introduce the IPO Chief - " G'Kar did a double take at the sight of Bacon's companion, then put his fists to his chest and bowed in the Narn fashion before reaching out to shake Gryphon's hand in both of his. "Va'Lor," he said. "What a pleasant surprise. The decades have been kind." "And to you as well," said Gryphon, grinning. "So it's Ambassador now? I never figured you for the diplomatic type." G'Kar smiled and made an airy gesture. "We each serve as we are called," he replied enigmatically. "May I introduce my nephew, G'Kron? But of course you have already met!" G'Kar said, as if reminding himself. "He is a classmate of your daughter's." "Captain," said G'Kron formally. "Thank you for arranging my transportation back to Narn next week." "No trouble, G'Kron," replied Gryphon. "Will you be joining Kate and the others at Satori Mandeville Memorial next term?" "Certainly," the young Narn replied seriously. "With most of WPI's programs transferred intact, the Engineers, whatever the new school decides to call us, will have a title to defend!" G'Kron's red eyes gleamed as he added, "And there is always the possibility that we will be able to persuade Miss Tenjou to pitch competitively for us next season... " Gryphon chuckled. "Good luck," he said. "Thank you, sir." "Where do you know -G'Kar- from?" asked Derek as they moved on. "And what was with that name he called you?" Gryphon shook his head, laughing softly at a memory. "It's part of a very convoluted joke," said Gryphon. "You'd appreciate it, but this isn't the time." "Uh-huh. Well, anyway - let's see... here we go." The next person they approached was a Minbari woman in the white robes of one of that world's religious orders; she was standing off to one side, alone, watching the gathering with interested eyes. She turned to face the two men as they approached, her face taking on an expression of polite interest. "Ambassador Delenn," said Derek. "Captain Bacon," replied Delenn, inclining her head. "May I introduce the Chief of the IPO, Captain - " Delenn smiled, took a step forward, and placed the palm of her hand high on the middle of Gryphon's chest. "Benjamin," she said. "It is good to see you again." >Greetings, Delenn of Mir,< he replied in her language, returning the gesture. Derek looked as though he were only barely restraining himself from slapping his forehead. "... So, you've already met," he said lamely. "The Captain took refuge on Minbar for a short time during his exile," said Delenn with a reminiscent smile. "He was perhaps the worst novice my order ever had." "So it wasn't one of my better plans," Gryphon replied with a sheepish grin. "I didn't know you'd joined the diplomatic corps." "I must follow the calling of my heart," Delenn replied. Gryphon smiled. "G'Kar just said something similar." Delenn was too refined and polite to actually roll her eyes, but it was clear that she wanted to. "Ambassador G'Kar's heart," she said diplomatically, "calls him in very peculiar directions." Gryphon chuckled. "Well. Now that you're here, we'll have to see if we can let less than 40 years pass between meetings this time." "I will be here," she replied, smiling, and nodded politely to Derek as the two left her. "I can't believe this," said Derek. "Is there anybody you DON'T know?" "I'm starting to wonder myself," Gryphon replied wryly. Derek scanned the periphery of the dissipating gathering, then grinned broadly. "A-hAAAA," he said triumphantly. "Here's somebody I KNOW you can't have met before." He led the way over to one of the freestanding computer kiosks that dotted the area. Standing in front of the terminal was a curious figure indeed - a tall being draped in an iridescent cloak that hung in many folds, topped by a broad, shining reddish-brown pauldron plate that almost looked like chitin. "Ambassador?" asked Derek. The figure didn't move. Derek cleared his throat and tried again, a little louder. "Ambassador?" A muted "squonk" came from the terminal. A moment later, the figure turned, revealing a front side that was easily as odd as the rear. The pauldron plate came to a point in front, where the chest would be on a humanoid, culminating in a gleaming greenish gem about the size of a doubled fist. Above the plate, a little turret of a head, almost like a security camera, pivoted on a swivel and fixed the two men with an eerily focusing single green eye. Curious, musical sounds came from the creature; then the gem on its chest(?) glowed softly and a rather hushed and eerie voice said in Standard, "I'm sorry," said Derek, "did I interrupt something?" The being paused as if considering the question, then replied, "... Oh," said Derek. "Well. Um, anyway. I wanted to introduce the International Police Organization's Chief, Captain Benjamin Hutchins. Captain, this is Ambassador Kosh from the Vorlon Empire." Gryphon squinted at the encounter-suited Vorlon. "Not Kosh -Neranek-?" he asked. Kosh replied. "Well, I'll be dipped," said Gryphon. "Kosh, you old bastard, how the hell are you?" said the Vorlon offhandedly. This time, Derek -did- slap his forehead. "Can you hand me the #3 turbospanner, please?" B'Elanna scanned the rack of tools, selected one, and placed it in the hand extending from the access panel. It disappeared within, and a moment later, a whining noise came from inside the wall. "Oops!" said B'Elanna as she realized her mistake. "I'm sorry, Chief... I gave you the wrong tool." Chief O'Brien's head, shoulders and right arm emerged from the panel, regarding the tool. "So you did. This is an alluvial damper. Not at all what I asked for." B'Elanna hung her head. "I'm sorry," she repeated. "I'll get it right next time - " "It does, however," O'Brien went on with a twinkle in his eye, "happen to be exactly the tool I -needed-." He grinned. "I made the mistake, not you. You may get the hang of this business yet," he added, then went back into the panel while his impromptu assistant beamed. After the reception, Corwin dropped the Duelists (and a somewhat-reluctantly-parted B'Elanna Torres) off in Port Jeradar - all except Utena, who was coming with him back to Tomodachi to start her summer of pilot training. "Well," said Utena, shouldering her duffel bag at the bottom of the ramp, "take care, Kate. Are you -sure- you guys can get by without me?" Kaitlyn smiled. "W-we'll be f-fine," she assured her roommate. "We c-c-can f-function without you, for l-limited times," she added with an impish grin. Utena grinned in return, then hugged her roommate. "If you need anything, call," she said. Kate nodded. "G-g'wan, have f-fun." "That's the plan," Utena replied. She gave Kate one last squeeze, then released her, turned, and went up the ramp. Kate left the revetment, made her way through the half-finished terminal, and was out on the street before the One-Hit Wonder roared up out of the spaceport complex and disappeared into the sky. She stood on the sidewalk, smiling up at where it had been, for a few moments, then turned and headed up the street to the Jeradar Arms. As was commonly the case, Corwin wasn't particularly talkative with his passenger until the One-Hit Wonder was in hyperspace, caught up as he was in chatter with the B5 airspace control desk, offering a farewell to his father on Challenger, and so forth. Once the black of realspace had been exchanged for the swirling whitish-blueness of hyperspace, though, he sat back from the controls, unhooked his commset earpiece from his ear, and sighed, then turned in his seat to grin at his copilot. "Think they'll survive without you?" he asked. Utena smiled. "Kate assures me that they'll be fine," she replied. "Listen... thanks for doing this. I'm sure you had some other way you'd rather have spent your summer... " Corwin suppressed a snort of laughter that would probably have been taken wrong and replied, as seriously as he could manage, "Nah, not really. I'd probably just have spent it lying around reading or something. Mom thinks it's better if I get out of the house as much as possible, but that might just be because she likes it quiet," he added, grinning. Utena chuckled, and for a while, they looked out the windows at hyperspace in silence. Then she cleared her throat and said, "Say, uh... Kate and I were talking the other day, and... well... I'd like you to have this." She dug into her jacket pocket and then held out a small object to him. Corwin, looking a bit puzzled, took it and turned it over in his hands. It was a silver ring with a nicely enameled pink rose-seal inlay. At sight of it, Corwin understood two of its several significances. One, it was the seal of the Institute Duelists' Society, the campus club which Kate and Utena had founded last year at WPI, and of which Kate was president and Utena vice-president. Two, it had also been the emblem of those at Utena's previous school who had been chosen to participate in the cycle of duels for the Rose Bride, a cycle which Utena had eventually won. "I know you're not a student of the Institute," said Utena, "and so you can't really officially be a Duelist... but... after what you did for us... well, there wouldn't still -be- a Duelists' Society if not for you. So... " Corwin looked at the ring, then at her, and smiled. "That's... thank you," he said. He hesitated for a moment, then slipped it onto the ring finger of his left hand. Most of the Institute Duelists wore their rose seals on their left hand, as had been the practice at Ohtori Academy. Utena did not; she reserved that finger for her -original- rose seal, which had been lost when she'd inadvertently left her world, and which she intended, one day, to return for. Corwin knew that, and had considered doing the same as a gesture of solidarity; but then the significance of the left hand had occurred to him. Utena noticed the hesitation, but didn't say anything about it. "So," she said instead. "What's first on the agenda?" "Well, we've got a couple days to kill before we get to Tomodachi. I figured we'd start with some basic stuff - intro astrogation, comm protocols, and so forth - but first... Remember when Kate got her driver's license?" Utena nodded. "Uh-huh." "Well, if you're OK with it, I'd like to start with a neurostim simulation." She considered this; having seen Kate in the semi-comatose state that total sensory interdiction caused, she'd been rather uncomfortable with the concept. More than that, she'd had an experience or two with virtual reality in the past, and they had never been pleasant... but Corwin, who would be running this simulation, certainly didn't mean her harm, and both he and Kate had assured her that the process itself was was perfectly safe. She knew Corwin would never ask her to do anything he thought was more dangerous than she was capable of handling, but she also knew he had a pretty high estimation of just how much danger she could handle. Being taken seriously, she reflected wryly, is a two-edged sword... She grinned. "Sure. Why not?" They left the ship on autopilot and went back to the One-Hit Wonder's wardroom. This was a very similar room to its analog aboard Daggerdisc, with a couple of couches, a miniature dining nook, and a game table. Corwin indicated the game table, and Utena sat down while Corwin set up a small piece of electronic equipment on the table, then carefully attached a set of adhesive electrodes to Utena's forehead, her hands, and behind her ears. Then he put a set on himself, checked all the leads, and sat down opposite her, working the controls on the interface unit. "This is a pretty straightforward simulation," he told her. "No danger, almost no variables at all, in fact. It's not a test or anything like that - just a way of showing you something that I can't show you any other way. If you feel any disorientation or discomfort, let me know and I'll punch us out. OK?" She nodded. "OK." He handed her a padded blindfold, put one on himself, and said, "Here we go, then. Just relax... " Utena did her best to comply, settling back in the couch, eyes closed beneath the blindfold. She heard the click as Corwin touched the simsense deck's activator - - and suddenly she was standing on a grassy hummock on a warm, breezy day, the blue sky blazing above her, studded with fluffy white clouds. It wasn't nearly as wrenching a transition as she'd been expecting, nor was the experience itself as dreamlike as she'd thought it would be. She looked down at herself, saw herself dressed in her Ohtori Academy uniform. Corwin was standing next to her in the same black jeans and blue button shirt he'd been wearing when they jacked in, his hands in his pockets, grinning as the breeze ruffled his disordered black hair. "Pretty neat, huh?" he said. "Yeah," she replied. "How does it know what I'm wearing?" "The interface protocol taps a specific part of the humanoid neural structure - pulls in something cyberpsychologists call 'residual self-image'. Unless the program has a specific costume for you, you look like you think of yourself looking." "Huh." Utena glanced down at herself again, smoothed her uniform jacket, and said wryly, "Good thing I've got a pretty good self-image." Corwin chuckled. "I won't argue that," he said. "Anyway. I imagine you're wondering where we 'are'." She nodded. "Feels like Earth, or at least a Class-M planet." "It is Earth - Cape Canaveral, Florida, to be exact." Utena looked around, puzzled. "I've seen pictures of Canaveral," she said. "It's a major spaceport." "It is now," Corwin agreed. "'Today' is Wednesday, July 16, 1969. The Cape was a spaceport on that day, too, as it happens... but there was only one flight scheduled." He turned around and gestured. Utena turned too, then blinked in surprise. Perhaps a mile away, a tower of red-painted steel pointed into the sky, and alongside it, connected to it by a number of spindly arms and thick hoses, was a black and white stepped cylinder with stubby fins at its base and steam pouring down its sides. "Space travel is routine in the modern day," said Corwin. He started strolling toward the tower as he talked, and Utena followed and listened as he went on, "But it wasn't always that way. In 1969, Earth was 30 years away from First Contact with Salusia. Officially, no one had any evidence that Earth wasn't the only inhabited planet in the universe. Humanity had only been traveling in space for eight years, since the Soviet Union put a man in orbit in 1961." "Yuri Gagarin," Utena said. "He was mentioned in Galactic History 202 - Earth's first space traveler." Corwin nodded. "In some ways, First Contact cheated Earth out of a bit of its history," he observed. "Earthpeople never developed their own FTL technology from scratch, never had an early interstellar exploration period. Salusia came along and pretty much gave them a ticket to the big dance for free - hyperdrive, starcharts, the accumulated knowledge of several centuries of starfaring. Now, even though Earth is a major player in galactic politics, nobody much remembers its early space explorations, because they didn't leave the system. They mention Gagarin in history classes because he was the first to leave the planet... but no one remembers Project Apollo." There was a burst of static, as if the whole world around them were a TV that had been momentarily tuned to a dead station, and suddenly they were standing in the doorway of a smallish white room full of odd pieces of equipment and several men in white jumpsuits. At the far end of the room was a curious little trapezoidal doorway. The men in jumpsuits didn't seem to see them. "Where are we now?" Utena wondered. "The White Room, at the top of Pad 39A. That's the entry hatch to the Apollo 11 command module," Corwin said, pointing at the small doorway. "That's Gunther Wendt, the pad leader," he went on, pointing with a fond smile to a hawk-nosed man on the far side of middle age who was adjusting a control panel on one of the White Room's walls. "Believe it or not, 'I wonder where Gunther Wendt?' passed for high humor around this place in those days." Utena chuckled. "Anyway," Corwin continued, "this is the part where the program -does- have special costumes for us, so hang on a second... " Another one of those fuzzes of static, and now Utena found herself dressed in a bulky environment suit, similar to the one she'd worn when Corwin took her to the Moon, but a lot heavier and stiffer, with much clumsier gloves and an external ventilator which she had to carry like a briefcase, attached to the chestpiece with hoses. Corwin had one too, complete with plastic bubble helmet. The little nametag on his chest said "ARMSTRONG". "The early spacesuits weren't much for comfort, were they?" Corwin agreed with her unspoken thought. "The simulation's about to go live - the pad crew will be able to see us when we cross the threshold into the room, but they won't recognize us for who we are - they'll think we're the historical figures we're replacing. I'm the spacecraft commander, Neil Armstrong. You're Mike Collins, the command module pilot. The lunar module pilot was a man named Edwin Aldrin, but I've scrubbed him from the sim - we're not going to let it run long enough for him to be needed. Ready?" Utena nodded. Given the limited room inside the helmet and the lack of an articulated neck on the suit, that didn't particularly work, so she added a verbal, "Ready." They crossed the threshold and stepped into 1969. The pad crew checked over their suits; Gunther fussed over them like a worried den mother, occasionally addressing the third crewman who wasn't there. Presently they were bundled one by one through the little hatch and into a small cabin, mostly painted in industrial green, which featured the single largest number of switches, dials, knobs and buttons Utena had ever seen. Here they were strapped with extreme prejudice into fabric-and-tubing couches, Gunther and his men yanking on the straps so hard that, despite the bulky space suits, grunts were forced out of the hapless travelers. Corwin ended up on the left, Utena in the center. Gunther shook their hands, wished them luck, and then sealed the hatch over them. The little cabin was eerily quiet without the bustle of the pad crew. "The sim's based on transcripts and timesheets from the old NASA records," Corwin confided, "but the developers took some liberties. Everything took -forever- back in those days - checklists, double-checks, controller polls... " He shook his head. "Anyway. Here's why we're here. Like I said earlier, space travel is routine in the modern age, or as close to it as you can get. Routine enough that you and I could fly to the Moon on a Saturday night just because I wanted to show it to you. In 1969, things were different. There was no artificial gravity, no antigravity, no repulsorlift technology. No ion drive, no fusion reactors, not even what we would consider real computers." He tapped the small green-numbered computer display on the big panel in front of them with a fingertip. "There's more computing power in Tiny Robo's targeting computer than in this whole spacecraft. Without repulsors, antigrav or fusion thrust, the only way to get out of Earth's gravity was to perch your spacecraft on top of what amounted to a huge pile of high explosives and set it off. Feel that vibration? That's the fuel pumps in the Saturn 5 booster underneath us. Liquid oxygen and kerosene, tons of it. There was nothing routine about going to the moon in the twentieth century. "I wanted you to experience this before we start your training because I think it's important to remember - no matter how hard it seems to you in, say, mid-July, when we're up to our eyebrows in hyperspace curvature calculations, there was a time when it wasn't -near- as easy as we've got it in 2405." He shook his head and chuckled at himself. "Man, listen to me. I sound like Dad. Sorry. End of speech." "Did your father give you the same speech when you started getting ready for your master's exam?" asked Utena with a grin. "Yep. He and Mom were both along, actually. We ran the whole sim - moon landing, return rendezvous, re-entry, splashdown, everything. I was Buzz Aldrin. Even with time compression, that took most of a day." "Sounds like fun. We'll have to run the whole thing ourselves sometime." Corwin grinned. "Sure. I'll have to shuffle things around so you're Aldrin, though. Wouldn't want to abandon you in lunar orbit for two days and go moonwalking all by myself." He looked as if he were listening to some silent voice for a second, then nodded. "I'll cut the outside voices back in now - we're down to T minus 30 and things are about to start getting interesting... " /* The Mavericks "Blue Moon" _Apollo 13_ */ It was an odd feeling, Kaitlyn reflected, to be standing on what seemed for all the world like Earth (but for the slightly lighter gravity), look up in the sky, and see... -another- planet that seemed like Earth. Bajor was about half full (waxing, Kate thought, but she wasn't certain of the orbital mechanics in this system), and about five times the apparent size of Earth's Moon, and it was hanging in the sky above Lake Jeradar and bathing the sleeping countryside in blue-green light. Kate walked along the lakeshore, her sneakers hanging from one hand, feeling the soft, cool sand under her bare feet and thinking of all the things she had to do. She was mildly surprised to realize that she wasn't alone out here; fifty yards or so further down the shore, there was a dark smudge against the silver sand, the figure of a person. As she drew nearer, she could see that whoever it was, they were seated in seiza, or something very like it, facing the lake. Curious but unafraid, Kate kept approaching. She wondered who it was. Someone from Port Jeradar, out for the same sort of evening constitutional she was taking? One of the WDF Engineers? Perhaps one of the monks from Prylar Otano's monastery? No... she realized as she drew a bit nearer that the mysterious figure by the lake was one of hers. It was Kyouichi Saionji kneeling next to the lake, dressed in dark kendo garb, his hair tied back in the loose ponytail he usually affected when training or sparring, though he had no sword. Saionji didn't look up as Kate approached him, intending to pass by and leave him to his meditation; but as she came within easy earshot of him, he said without looking, "Good evening." "Even-n-ning, S-Saionji," she replied, pausing. "I d-didn't mean to d-d-disturb you." Saionji smiled, ever so slightly. "You're not disturbing me," he said. His eyes opened, gleaming in the planetlight as he glanced at her. "The question is," he asked, "am I disturbing you?" Kate considered the question for a moment, then smiled and sat down next to him, arranging her voluminous peasant skirt in a pool of fabric around her. It reminded her of when she and Leonard would both train with their father at the same time, kneeling side by side in the dojo while the master demonstrated a technique or gave one of his speeches on risk and awareness. "N-not really," she told him as they both closed their eyes again. "I w-was j-just thinking." "About what?" Saionji wondered, and without really knowing why, Kaitlyn told him. There was the Castle, of course; and she would have to start gathering readmission information from the administration as they got themselves oriented, to determined how much of her old orchestra she'd get back for the coming year, and prepare accordingly. Then there was her -own- band, which had suddenly, unexpectedly lost two-thirds of its rhythm section. Her recent Katsujinkenryuu mastery was starting to really sink in. She was concerned with Dorothy's impending Turing evaluation. She wondered about their unexpected guest's troubled background and uncertain future. She was worried about Corwin and Utena - not because of any physical danger that might be involved with their summer's work, but because... well, she was just worried about them in general. And about Miki and Azalynn. And Amanda and Devlin. And there was the little matter of Kate being in a budding relationship of her own, and having suddenly realized that she really had no idea whatsoever how to go about it. Finally, she trailed off into silence, more-than-faintly embarrassed that she'd gone into such detail. Saionji remained silent for a few moments, and then, with a tone of mild, gentle amusement, observed, "That's a lot to be thinking about on a Saturday night." Kate chuckled wryly. "Mm," she said; then she asked sardonically, "Any sug-g-gestions?" "Well," Saionji replied, "let me see. In no particular order: Kaoru and Azalynn will be fine - they're both survivors. Amanda and Devlin will be fine - they're both too stubborn to fail. Tenjou and your brother... " He shrugged eloquently. "Arisugawa may disagree, but I say that's not in our hands. All we can do is watch, hope for the best... and be prepared to pick up the pieces." "Y-you're a real r-ray of s-s-sunshine," said Kate dryly. "I doubt it will come to that," Saionji assured her. "If there's one thing about Utena Tenjou which is a universal constant, it's her incorruptible loyalty. What she's in right now may look like an irresolvable trap, but... I have faith in her. She'll find a way to balance her loyalty to Corwin with her loyalty to Himemiya; her nature will permit her to do nothing else." He smiled wryly and added, "I don't say that will be easy or quick, but there's not much you or I can do to help." "I h-hope you're r-right," said Kate quietly. "I'd h-hate for either of them to g-g-get hurt. I introd-duced them, after all. I'm p-partly r-r-resp-ponsible for all that f-follows... " Saionji chuckled. "It's funny you should put it quite that way," he said. "In a way, I introduced her to Anthy... " Kate nodded. "I kn-know," she said. "I've h-heard the wh-whole s-story." "I've come far from those days," said Saionji, almost as if to himself. Kate nodded in agreement; for a moment there was silence. Then he went on, "But I've still a long way to go. A long way until I can look Anthy in the eye and tell her how sorry I am. When that day comes, when Utena succeeds, I want to be able to show her that I've changed... that I've become... " He paused as if searching for words. "... Someone she can be proud to know," he concluded. Slowly, Saionji got to his feet. Kate opened her eyes at the sound of his movement, surprised, to see him walk around in a semicircle, then settle back into seiza, now with his back to the lake, facing her. Once seated again, he bowed low, touching his forehead to the beach. "Please, Kaitlyn-sensei," he said softly, "accept me as your student." She stared at him in amazement for a few moments, then said, "Are you s-still on about th-that?" "My technique is in ruins, shattered along the fault lines of my flaws," he replied. "Defeat at your hands was the first step on my road to recovery. It seems apparent that I should throw away what I knew before and start anew at your feet." "I d-don't know the f-f-first thing ab-bout having a s-student," Kate told him, arms folded. "J-just bec-cause Dad says I'm a m-m-master d-doesn't mean I'm r-ready to t-teach." "You have to start somewhere," Saionji pointed out, still bowed. "As do I... " Kate regarded his prostrate form for a few moments, then drew a deep breath, let it out in a sigh, and said, "S-sit up, w-will you?" He sat up, his face serious underneath the deep shadows carved across it by the planetlight. Kate dragged her memory for the words her father had used when she'd first approached him, at the mightily mature age of four, and asked him to teach her. She couldn't remember them exactly, but she knew their gist well enough, and anyway she lacked her father's gift for speechmaking, so she tossed the effort aside after a few moments in favor of simple directness. "It'd be t-t-tough," she said. "You'd h-have to t-t-take orders f-from me." Saionji nodded. "That's to be expected," he said. "And w-with b-both of us in sch-school, and all m-my other r-responsib-bilities... it'd b-be slow. You p-probably w-w-wouldn't m-make j-journeym-man until after we g-graduate. I d-don't know ab-bout you, b-but -I- haven't m-made any c-college p-p-plans yet... " "I'm willing to cross that bridge when we come to it," he replied. "I'd have to ch-check with D-Dad... he's s-still the O-sens-sei, a-after all." Saionji nodded again. "Of course." "And th-then there's W-Wakaba... " "She'll understand," Saionji replied calmly. "I h-hope so," said Kate. "I f-feel b-b-bad enough as it is... " "You shouldn't," said Saionji. "Wakaba, in her way, has come far as well." "I h-hope so," Kate repeated. She looked up at Bajor for a few moments, then dropped her eyes to meet Saionji's. They sat looking silently at each other for several moments. Then Kate sighed and nodded. "A-all right, K-Kyouichi," she said. "Assuming D-Dad doesn't obj-ject... w-we'll g-g-give it a t-try. B-but don't g-get your h-hopes up!" she admonished him, raising a finger. "I m-might turn out to be a r-rotten t-t-teacher." "Having seen you lead your orchestra and your band," Saionji replied with a somber smile, "I very sincerely doubt that." Then he bowed, his forehead touching the sand, and said, "Thank you, Kaitlyn-sensei. I will do my best not to let you down." "'K-Kaitlyn-sensei,'" said Kate in an I-can't-believe-someone- just-called-me-that tone of voice. Then she grinned and said playfully, "W-welcome to the Asag-giri K-Katsuj-jinkenryuu, K-Kyouichi-kun." Saionji, still bowed, craned his neck to look up at her, cocking an eyebrow wryly. As they got up and started walking back toward Port Jeradar, Saionji said in a thoughtful tone, "As for the rest of your concerns, well... I can't offer you much advice on musical matters - you'd be better off asking Kaoru when he gets back, which I'm sure you will do. The Castle is coming nicely, I don't think you need to worry about that. Dorothy will be fine. And as for Arisugawa... " He shrugged a little, smiling. "You're on your own there too, I'm afraid. I've never understood her, and I rather doubt I ever will." "Well, y-you're a b-big help," Kate grumped. Utena blinked and took a couple of deep breaths as the One-Hit Wonder's wardroom became her reality again; then, slowly, she let the last one out, smiled across the game table, and started peeling the electrodes off. "That was... wow," she said. Corwin grinned and started removing his own interface set. "Yeah, I thought you might like it. Or at least appreciate it." "Things really were different back then." "If you can believe it, the Saturn 5 was a -gentle- booster. The previous spacecraft, Gemini, was launched on a booster called Titan, which was by all accounts a real mean ride. It was originally designed as a weapon, and it didn't much care if it had a warhead or a man up top when it went up." Utena shook her head. "Unreal." "Now that the historical background's out of the way," Corwin went on, bundling the interface deck into a box on the floor and replacing it with what looked like a roll of charts, "we can get started on the -modern- stuff... " He trailed off, becoming aware that she was looking across the table at him with an odd look in her eyes and not listening to a word he said. Feeling his cheeks get hot, he said, "... What?" She only shook her head, smiled, and said, "Nothing. Just getting my bearings back. Let's get cracking! I haven't got all year to learn this stuff." Corwin gave her a puzzled, mildly skeptical look, then shook his own head and unrolled the charts. "OK, then." As they started into an introduction to cosmography, Utena reflected on the real answer to his question, the one she'd felt too awkward to try putting into words for him. He'd done it again - shown her something with a method that Akio Ohtori might have used... but shown her a thing that Akio never, in a million years, could have shown her. In the spring, he'd shown her a fast car... but then he'd put the keys in -her- hand, shown her how to find her -own- roads. If, two weeks - God! only two weeks? - ago, he'd taken her somewhere to just look up at the Moon, her heart would have closed in reflexive defense, shutting out the beauty he was trying to share with her. But instead he'd taken her -to- the Moon, to show it to her first-hand, in armored suits which made it plain that he had no expectation other than to share that beautiful moment. And now he'd constructed a world that wasn't real and taken her into it - but not to deceive her, to -teach- her, and to share another moment that he obviously felt was a special one. It was as though, if only unconsciously, Corwin Ravenhair had set out to build a bridge over every raw place Anthy's brother had left in her soul. Utena wondered idly, as she began to absorb the relative positions of the major stars in the Centauri sector, if he could do the same for Anthy when the day finally came that they met. She hoped fervently that it would be so, and soon. Kate walked into the sitting room of the wryly-named Ambassador Suite in the Jeradar Arms (where she and, until tonight, Utena had laid claim to one bedroom while Dorothy and Juri claimed the other), her shoes still dangling from one hand, and was surprised to see Juri sitting there in one of the leather armchairs, reading a book. At the sound of Kaitlyn's entrance, the redhead put up the book, smiled, and rose to greet her. "I th-thought you'd b-be in b-bed," Kate said softly, not wanting to disturb Dorothy, who she expected was also asleep. She sat down on the couch; Juri went to the other end and sat as well. "I've been thinking too much," she said. "I thought about trying to find you, but there was no telling where you might have gone." "I w-went for a w-w-walk around the l-lake. It was b-beautiful," Kate said. "N-next time... c-come with me?" Juri smiled. "Certainly. Did you have a good walk?" "It w-was... int-teresting. I s-seem to have acq-q-quired a d-disciple." At Juri's cocked eyebrow, she recounted the story of her encounter with Saionji. Juri took it in with a very thoughtful expression, and when Kate was through, she mused, "There was a time when I would have had grave reservations about such a thing... but... " She smiled slightly, shaking her head in wonder. "Once I tried to deny the existence of miracles, and since Tenjou brought me to your world, I've been up to my eyebrows in them. Sometimes I wonder if I'm going mad," she added wryly. "You'll g-get used to it," Kate replied with an impish grin. "I hope so," Juri replied. Then she observed, "You're going to be a very busy girl, with a student on top of everything else you have to do... " "N-never too b-busy for you, I h-hope," said Kate, a little shyly. Slowly, as if she were not quite sure whether she should, Juri reached across the couch and took hold of Kaitlyn's hand. "I hope so too," she said softly. Kate smiled, squeezed the redhead's hand, and the two of them sat there like that for a few minutes in a calm, warm silence. Then, a little awkwardly, Kate stifled a yawn. To show that she understood, Juri said in a tone of slightly exaggerated briskness, "I'm glad tomorrow is Sunday. After tonight, I can use the day off." Kate grinned a little in relief, and the two women stood up. Juri switched off the standing lamp she'd been reading by, leaving the room illuminated only by the light of Bajor through the French doors and the nightlights over the bedroom doors. For a moment, they faced each other in the darkness. Kate was still holding her shoes in her free hand. "Well... good night, Kaitlyn," said Juri after a few seconds. "J-Juri... " said Kate softly. "Mm?" Juri responded. "I... it's n-not that y-you... I j-just... I'm n-not... n-not r-ready," Kate said slowly, now stammering as well as stuttering in the great awkwardness of the moment. Juri looked at her in the planetlight for a few moments more, than smiled and stepped nearer. "I understand," she said. She reached out one long, slim hand and cupped the side of Kate's face, leaned nearer still, and smilingly murmured, "Take as long as you need, Kaitlyn. I'll be here." Then, very gently, she leaned even nearer and kissed the shorter girl's lips. Kate's shoes hit the carpeted floor with a soft 'thud'. "Good night, Kaitlyn," repeated Juri softly. "G... g-good night, J-Juri," replied Kate, and, slowly, they went their separate ways. Two days later, on the concourse of Babylon 5, Kaitlyn bade a very different farewell to another tall, cool, elegant girl she'd known far longer and, in some peculiar ways, knew far better. "W-well, Liza," she said, "I'm... I'm g-glad you're d-doing this." Liza Broadbank cracked a wry smile and said, "Going far, far away from you? Yeah... I bet you've wanted that for quite some years now." Kate went a little pink and said, "Th-that's n-not what I m-meant... " "I know," said Liza, her smile softening somewhat. She hit Kate gently on the shoulder. "I just couldn't resist pulling your tail a little. Old habits die hard, you know," she added with a wink. "Anyway, take care of yourself, Kaitlyn, and have no fear: I'll be back in September to terrorize you and your little friends with the stories of my exploits among the stars! They'll all be so envious of me and my adventures that they'll just -die-!" The blonde put her hands on her hips, threw back her head, and let out a big, rolling "O-ho-ho-ho!" laugh that set Kate's teeth on edge. "P-P-PLEASE d-don't laugh like th-that," she whimpered. Liza stopped as if someone had thrown a switch, looked thoughtful, and then said as if she'd just realized it, "You know, I hate it when people laugh like that too. My -mother- laughs like that! It's the most annoying thing in the -world-!" She shook her head, chuckling at herself. "The things you start noticing when your mind snaps." Off to the side, Saionji nodded gravely, causing Liza to shoot him a sly little grin. The PA system bonged and made an announcement in a language Kate didn't understand, but recognized, and T'skaia perked up a little. "Final boarding call, Elizabeth," he said briskly, hefting her duffel bag and handing it to her. "Off you go - it wouldn't do to keep Captain Ariane waiting on your very first day. Good luck! Keep your tail out of the mud!" Saionji nodded again, less gravely this time. "Indeed. Good luck, Liza, and take care. We'll see you in the fall." Liza nodded in return. "Thank you, Sky, Saionji... thank you for everything. I wouldn't be on this path if not for both of you. I won't forget that. Or you either, Kate, in your way," she added, grinning. "I feel like I should give you a goodbye hug, except you'd probably snap my spine just out of reflex." Kate, with smiling exasperation, brushed that silly notion away with a gesture of her hands and embraced her erstwhile nemesis. "Good l-luck, Liza," she said. "I m-mean that. I'll... I'll s-s-see you when you g-get b-b-back." "I'll send you all a postcard from the Crab Nebula," Liza promised airily; then she shouldered her bag and trotted off to the boarding gate, singing "See You In September" somewhat painfully off-key. Kate watched her go until the gate had closed behind her and the t'skrang trading ship had undocked and pulled away; then the three Duelists went to one of the monitors to watch it enter the metagate and vanish. "That," Kate mused, "w-was a s-s-surreal exp-perience. N-not BAD surreal... j-just surreal." "I hope she finds what she's looking for out there," said Saionji. "She will," T'skaia said positively. "We t'skrang have a saying:" "(Of course you do,)" Saionji murmured with a dry little smile. Sky paid the interruption no heed at all and went on grandly, "'All things of value can be found somewhere along the river.' Of course, 'the river' is rather more of a metaphor nowadays than it was when the saying was coined, but you get the idea... " Kate nodded. "I h-hope so," she said. "Well. C-c'mon, Kyouichi-k-kun; let's g-go see D-Dad about your app-plication." "Success, Mr. Saionji," said T'skaia with a formal bow. "I'll see the two of you back on the surface this evening." SUNDAY, JUNE 6, 2405 11:07 AM ALAN TURING INSTITUTE FOR THE STUDY OF CYBERNETIC LIFE TURING III, NIVEN SECTOR R. Dorothy Wayneright was not a person given to anxiety. Though more emotional than she had been only six months ago, she was nonetheless of a mainly phlegmatic disposition, and that was not inclined to change just because she had found such wonders in the world as friendship, warmth, loyalty and passion. She did not fidget. She did not pace. She did not worry at buttons or chew her fingernails or glance compulsively at clocks. Having been her roommate since February, Juri Arisugawa certainly knew all this. It was a prime factor in their successful partnership as roommates, since Juri was a person easily annoyed by neurotic habits. Having lived alone for several years, she required a certain measure of quiet and serenity in her surroundings. As such, she found it quite telling that, as she sat on the bench in the corridor outside Hearing Room 17, R. Dorothy kept tapping her right index finger against her knee. Today, though, Juri didn't grudge her friend that one little gesture of nervousness. After all, the board empaneled in that hearing room was only going to decide whether or not Dorothy was a sentient lifeform today. Dorothy noticed her roommate looking at her, turned her head, and said, "You might as well go to lunch." Juri smiled her little Vulcan smile and replied, "That's all right. I think I'd rather stay here. Besides, Kaitlyn will bring me back something to eat." "As you wish," Dorothy replied, and turned her eyes back to the doors. Juri didn't take offense; Dorothy's tendency toward curtness was a matter of efficiency more than rudeness, and besides, she was on edge today - she wouldn't be tapping that finger otherwise. Dorothy had no need to glance at the clock on the wall near the elevator, or to wear and consult a wristwatch; she always knew exactly what time it was. Part of her sensory apparatus was a small sub-etheric transciever which synchronized her onboard time sense to the Galactic Standard Atomic Time Signal. She knew exactly when it was 11:10, then 11:15, then 11:20. At 11:22:17.093, the rest of the Duelists' Society returned from lunch, and, true to Juri's prediction, Kate had brought her a hamburger, a packet of fries, and a cherry Coke from the Johnny Rockets in the Institute's food court. Moose MacEachearn was with them, having arrived from Hoffman half an hour earlier. He greeted Dorothy and Juri with a big smile (and on Moose, a big smile was a -big- smile) and informed them that his family was very well, thank you. So too were G'Kron, freshly arrived from Narn, and Mac McKenzie, crisply formal in his Freespacer dress uniform. They chatted for a few minutes, catching up on the latest from Mac's job with the contractor performing the Fleet refit and G'Kron's time with his family. Mac didn't say much; most of his energies were being channelled straight into pulling himself together from the warp-speed journey to Turing III, so that he wouldn't look shocky and twitchy for the Board. Presently, an opening in the conversation appeared, and into it Juri inserted the question Dorothy wouldn't allow herself to ask: "Any sign of the others?" "C-Corwin and Utena are... " Kate took her pocket watch from the obi of the kenjutsu-inspired formal garb Juri had bought for her on Babylon 5, consulted it, and tucked it away again. "... T-t-twenty minutes out in m-m-metaspace. C-cong-gestion at the T-Tomodachi Gate. Th-they'll be here." "No word on Miki and Azalynn, though," said Wakaba Shinohara glumly. "There aren't regularly scheduled flights from Dantrov to... well, anywhere... so there's no telling -how- they're getting here." She sighed. "I hope they're all right," said Saionji. Suddenly, there was someone on his back, slim coppery arms encircling his neck, matching legs about his waist, and something sharp nipped at his earlobe before a familiar voice told him, "Oh, we're just fine... " Saionji staggered, putting his hand against the marble wall to keep from falling into Juri's lap. Azalynn dv'Ir Natashkan alighted from his back like an heiress getting off the boat train from Southampton, pirouetted, and asked the assembled group, "Did you miss me?" There were pleased greetings all around, and Kaitlyn, for one, noticed that Azalynn certainly did look better than she had when she'd left Babylon 5 for Dantrov, the day after the founding of Mandeville Memorial had been announced. Then she had been unusually subdued, almost frightened, suffering from an imbalance of emotion she attributed to too long away from her homeworld and other Dantrovians. Now she was, by all appearances, her own self again, bright-eyed, sprightly, and flirtatious, her smile as broad and as bright as it could be. Like all of them, she was dressed formally, in the scarlet two-piece bodysuit and voluminous, airy sari/toga hybrid wrap she'd worn to the WPI Spring Formal. A bit behind her, standing with a backpack slung on one shoulder and a fond little smile on his face, stood Miki Kaoru, and if the change in Azalynn was dramatic, in Miki it was almost -shocking-. He was dressed in a relaxed-looking, slightly crumpled summer suit of cream-colored linen, a white shirt, and a yellow striped tie, brown and cream saddle shoes, and a straw Panama hat - the very picture of a young gentleman on holiday in sunny Cairo, or perhaps the Caribbean. He even had a furled sun umbrella, which he was holding like a cane. The pale cream color of his clothes threw his suntan into sharp contrast; he was almost as coppery as Azalynn, and she looked that way rain or shine. It looked a bit odd against his bright blue hair and made his cobalt eyes look paler than they really were. Wakaba turned and goggled at him. Truth be told, -all- of them goggled at him a bit. Saionji leaned against the wall next to Juri's bench with his arms folded, smiled with mild sardony, and said, "Been getting a bit of sun, Kaoru? I thought spring on Dantrov didn't start until next month." Miki grinned. "Azalynn's family took an equatorial holiday this year." "Without telling me they were going, thank you -very- much," said Azalynn indignantly. "Took us -three days- to find them. We almost missed the Festival of the Fudge Sauce." "... the Festival of... OK, no, I don't wanna know," said Wakaba, shaking her head. "Are you sure?" asked Azalynn. "It's a really interesting story." Wakaba nodded. "I'm sure. Thanks anyway." Azalynn shrugged. "Suit yourself." Then she focused on the girl of the hour and asked, "So, Dorothy - how do you think things are going so far?" Dorothy looked thoughtful, then replied, "The Board are difficult to read - by design, I'm sure - but the practical tests have gone well, and I'm confident that I've passed the physical and intellectual challenges. In the end, though, I believe it will all come down to the character assessment." She smiled very slightly. "I'm grateful that you were able to make it." "We wouldn't miss it," said Miki. He stepped around the Dantrovian, smiling, and then hesitated. Dorothy got to her feet and hesitated in turn, and then the two embraced. "-I- wouldn't miss it," he added in a softer voice as he hugged her. "I've missed you, Dorothy." "I've... " She took a half-step back, their hands still on each other's shoulders, and a hint of color came into the bridge of her nose. "I've missed you too," she replied softly. Then she looked over his shoulder at Azalynn and inquired with a slightly impish smile, "Was he helpful?" "Very," Azalynn replied, without a trace of jest. "I don't know what I would have done without him. Thank you." Dorothy took that in, considered it, and then nodded in her understated way. T'skaia, the Duelist Society's resident t'skrang, checked his own watch and tch'd. "I hope Miss Tenjou and Corwin don't meet with any further unexpected delays. As it is, given time for landing and arranging ground transportation to the Institute - " As though summoned by the t'skrang's concerns, two figures materialized in the corridor amid the blue-white wash of a Utopia Planitia matter transporter: Utena Tenjou, in the full-dress uniform she was entitled to wear by virtue of her International Police Organization Space Force Reserve commission, and Corwin Ravenhair, in the sharpest-looking double-breasted black suit ever. "... or not," said T'skaia, bemused; then he swept his tricornered hat from his pointy pteranodon head and bowed formally to them. "Greetings, wanderers," he said. "I trust your travels go smoothly so far?" "So far, so good," said Utena with a grin. She took a moment to embrace her roommate, admired Miki's suit and his tan for a second, then turned to Dorothy, hugged her too, and said, "Sorry we were almost late. Freighter accident at the Tomodachi Gate... " "Oh, dear," said Mia. "I hope no one was hurt." "Nah, just some bozo fat-fingering his helm and jackknifing a Super Clydesdale in the approach lane," said Corwin. "He didn't lose hull integrity or anything, but he wrecked his impulse reactor and had to be towed out. Time it was all said and done, it almost would have been faster to hyperspace to New Hokkaido and use -their- gate..." He shrugged. "But we're here now." He grinned and angled a thumb at Utena. "And my student here got a valuable object lesson in why it pays to stay focused when you're piloting into a Gate." Utena grinned back and retorted, "Somehow I doubt I'll ever be flying anything the size of a Super Clyde, Professor Ravenhair." "You never know," Corwin replied. Then he stood for a moment, taking in the sight of Dorothy in her best dress, the scarlet and red gown his Aunt Belldandy made for her. She'd added her broad-brimmed round hat and put on just a touch of makeup; he thought the overall look suited her very well, and told her so, after giving her a hug. It was just as he was stepping back and preparing to say something encouraging that the door to the hearing room opened and the uniformed functionary informed them all that the Board had reconvened and would hear character references now. Utena tugged her uniform jacket smooth and adjusted the chain that hung from her rank bar to her star badge, then patted Dorothy encouragingly on the shoulder, and they all entered the chamber together. R. Dorothy sat bolt upright in the petitioner's box (which rather resembled, in position and appearance, the prisoner's dock in old English courtrooms) and watched with outward calm as a parade of people took the witness stand one by one and declared themselves her friends before the five beings who, in this case, constituted the Turing Board: a small blue Autobot she didn't recognize, two humans, an elderly Salusian woman, and the ever-shifting blob of a Dralasite. Of course, they were doing more than that - they were answering specific questions and giving specific examples of Dorothy's capacities for friendship, loyalty, compassion - and negative emotions too, anger, annoyance, vengefulness. It all went into the evaluation. As the Dralasite, Bordag Gelp, had informed her at the outset of the evaluation on Friday afternoon, "It's not really important to us whether you're a -good- person - although it probably won't hurt if you are." As with Horta, it was often difficult to tell when Dralasites were joking. Corwin spoke at length, describing the circumstances under which he had come to own Dorothy, her history before that point as best he knew, and her time with him since then. He left no doubt in any observer's mind that he believed totally in his possession's right to be free of him - a relatively rare position for owners to take, even if they -did- have to sponsor their robots' petitions for emancipation to get this far in the first place. Very carefully, he restrained himself from soapboxing about cybernetic rights reform - this wasn't the place, and he didn't want to do anything that might prejudice the Board against him and, by association, Dorothy. Kaitlyn, who knew better than most his disdain for the present system (under which, as he had once put it, people like Dorothy had to "scrape and do tricks" to claim their natural sentient's rights), was proud of him for that self-restraint. So too was Utena, who had heard many of the same restrained rants during the quiet bits of their many times together. Dorothy evinced little visible reaction, but those who knew her could tell she was relieved as well. As he quit the stand, such-a-polite-young-man image intact, he threw her a subtle wink, to which she responded with a vestigial smile. The next person to speak was, coincidentally, Corwin's mother, the renowned roboticist Dr. Skuld Ravenhair of the Nekomi Institute of Technology on Tomodachi. She addressed the Board members as a colleague, explaining to them various technical details of Dorothy's construction, and then digressed into a more personal assessment which was, in every respect, glowing. Like Corwin, she refrained from preaching about the sad state of machine-life rights in the galaxy. One by one they spoke, including several whose presence surprised Dorothy considerably. Professor Ravi Chandrijan, late of the WPI Literature Department (and soon to occupy a similar position on the faculty of the Mandeville Memorial Institute), bubbled over with eager testimony as to Dorothy's keen intellect, inquisitive spirit, and insightful fondness for the subject he taught. Professor Kraalgh, the WPI (and now DSM) Duelists' Society's faculty advisor, took the stand in his Klingon battle finery and insisted that she was a creature of great honor. Julian Bashir, the chief medical officer of Babylon 5 and Dorothy's unofficial vet, grinningly informed the Board that Dorothy Wayneright was a person thoroughly committed to the proper care of her pet cat, Peril. The vessel which had brought those three men and most of the Duelists to Turing III was the command of Corwin's father, IPO Space Force Captain Benjamin Hutchins, known to all as Gryphon. Since Dorothy had lived under his roof during her time with Corwin (-well- under it, since she'd spent most of her time in Corwin's underground workshop complex, but still), Gryphon took the stand himself. So did his executive officer, Lore Soong, himself a Turing-certified mechano-humanoid; he explained that Dorothy's construction was an evolution of his own, her creator having been Dr. Timothy Wayneright, the protege of his own creator, the famed roboticist Noonian Soong. That seemed to leave quite an impression on three of the Board members, though the old Salusian and Gelp didn't seem very moved by it. The sheer -number- of her supporters shocked Dorothy as she watched them cross the witness stand; she'd never thought before about just how many would be here today, never stopped to count them up in her mind. Here was Juri describing their rooming arrangement at WPI, every bit of her cool self-possession marshalled to impress upon the Board that she knew exactly what she was talking about when she described Dorothy as her friend. Here was Azalynn imparting the act of great compassion Dorothy had performed in allowing Miki to accompany her to Dantrov when, by rights, he probably should have been helping Dorothy prepare for this evaluation. Here was Miki - Miki in his cream-colored suit and yellow tie, combed, clean-cut, eminently presentable, telling the Board that he and Dorothy were lovers without a trace of embarrassment or shame on his boyishly handsome face. The revelation caused a bit of a stir in the gallery, and a bit of a stir in the Board, come to that; the old, white-haired, gray-furred Salusian seemed tickled pink by it, the Dralasite formed himself into a cube of not-displeased astonishment, the Autobot didn't seem to understand what the big deal was, and the two humans were scandalized. Typical, thought Corwin as he fought not to smirk in the front row. Dr. Emmett Taylor, one of the two humans, began a vigorous cross-examination on this point. Miki, drawing on all the open unshockability his time on Dantrov had given him, remained resolutely unembarrassed, but quite firmly put a stop to it when he felt that the level of detail was becoming needlessly granular. Dorothy sat in the petitioner's box with a smile and a furious blush competing for real estate on her face - a most unusual expression for her, and one which all her friends took time out to savor. Once that was settled (and the bridge of Dorothy's nose stopped burning), Saionji came to the stand and told them that he'd taught Dorothy some meditation techniques based on his kendo studies and that she'd taken to them very well. He remarked that, in his opinion, she would make an excellent martial artist, if she ever found the inclination to take up such a course of study. Before such a large, varied group of total strangers, Kaitlyn took a long, painful time to make her agreement with Saionji and other salient points understood - but she stuck gamely to it, soldiering on (after being rather stuffily denied permission to sing her testimony by Dr. Taylor) and generally taking the attitude that, if the Board wouldn't let her address them in a manner that was easy for her, then they didn't get to hear her testimony in a manner that was easy for them, either. The afternoon went on, and still they came. Wakaba said she didn't know Dorothy well, having met her the most recently of any of her fellow students, but there had never been any doubt in her mind that her old schoolmate Juri's auburn-haired roommate was a real person. Mac concurred with this and said he had enjoyed having her as a roommate until she'd been forced out of Galaxy House through the petty maneuvering of a faculty member he preferred not to name. G'Kron had no such compunctions, and blustered quite effectively about the narrow-minded bigotry of Professor Aaron Harris, adding that he trusted none of the Board were of such limited mentality - but then, if they were, he said with a confident, we're-all-cleverer-than-that smile, why would they be here? It was a bravura performance by the young Narn, and his friends smiled and told themselves that