The seller of lightning rods arrived just ahead of the storm. Ray Bradbury, _Something Wicked This Way Comes_ Simon and Schuster, 1962 The royal palace of Kinmoku's ruling dynasty, conveniently located just a few minutes' drive away from one of the thriving capital cities of the planet, was really not JUST a "palace." It was a self-contained complex of governmental buildings and offices, residential wings, federal agencies, and planetary administrative headquarters. There was a gymnasium and a track and field for training the guards, Knights, and Sailor Senshi; there was an entire infirmary and medical wing; and, of course, the beautiful palace gardens that wrapped through and around all of the various buildings in the complex. It was almost accurate to call the royal palace a small, self-contained city. But there were a few amenities missing, still . . . If one wanted to find a decent tattoo or piercing parlor, one would have to leave the palace and drive to the nearby downtown metropolis. But that's still a few chapters ahead in our story. The important thing is that the royal palace was well equipped to deal with all of its residents' needs. This is a very good thing, because, unfortunately, the royal palace was about to find itself to be ground zero for a series of dangerous and bizarre occurrences. _______________________________________________________________________ Kinmokusei Story Chapter Two: Demon Egg by Kotetsu _______________________________________________________________________ Yaten and Seiya returned almost an hour later, wearily trudging through the palace, leaning on each other for support, clearly exhausted by the trip. "This is the *last* time I let you talk me into something like that," Seiya griped as she and Yaten entered the library. Taiki and the Queen were already there, waiting for them at the main entrance. "You think you're tired? Please. I just made the same trip myself, not less than ten hours ago," Yaten sighed. She turned toward Kakyuu. "Do we have to do work *now*?" "Unfortunately, yes." "Drat." Taiki was wearing her reading glasses, and carrying a thick stack of papers and legal briefs under her arm. "I've got a private meeting room reserved in the back. Nobody should bother us there." "I keep forgetting how cute you look with glasses," Seiya teased. Then she wobbled slightly on her feet. "Oh, dear. I think I should really sit down soon." "Follow me." The Queen glided through the library, and her Senshi obediently followed. They wove through a labyrinth of dusty bookshelves and ancient, musty archives, finally making their way toward a plain, smooth wooden door, which Taiki unlocked with a key she seemed to produce from nowhere. Beyond the door was a surprisingly cozy and well-lit little conference room, and the four silently arranged themselves in a circle around the solid, polished wood table, Yaten and Seiya flopping gratefully into their seats, the Queen lowering herself elegantly, and Taiki plopping the stack of legal briefs onto the table before she settled into her own chair. Taiki coughed solemnly, and turned toward the Queen. "Um, before we begin, I have a question that I need to ask you." "Go ahead." "Do you have any idea what the purpose behind this 'Sol Report' subcommittee is? Is this a witch hunt? Are they trying to persecute us?" The Queen shook her head, slowly. "No, no, it's not that at all. Although the Assembly is upset that you and I have chosen to keep what happened on Earth a secret for so long. You see, what occurred in the Sol system has affected not only the people of this planet, but also . . . What, why are you three looking at me like that? Don't you realize?" Seiya scratched her head. "Realize what?" Kakyuu took a long, slow breath. "Well, by the time that Galaxia reached the Earth, over eighty percent of the galaxy had fallen into her shadow. That means that literally hundreds of Sailor Senshi were defeated by her, and billions upon billions of lives were lost in the aftermath. So . . . When Sailor Moon defeated Galaxia, and the stolen Sailor Crystals and star seeds were reborn throughout the galaxy . . . " Kakyuu hesitated, unsure how to continue. Taiki's eyes widened with sudden understanding. "But," she protested softly, "not everyone was reborn, were they . . . ?" "No. But regardless of that, you three - and Sailor Moon - are responsible for resurrecting not only the hundreds of Sailor Senshi defeated by Galaxia, but probably at least several thousand billion lives throughout the entire galaxy." The Queen smiled to herself, softly. "The official numbers, of course, have yet to be reported." The three Senshi sat for a moment in stunned silence. "No way . . . no way . . ." Seiya shook her head in disbelief. "You mean . . . other Senshi have been reborn, too?" Yaten asked. "Why, yes. Of course. Haven't you been paying attention to the intergalactic newscasts?" "No. I only cared about this planet--" "I couldn't stop thinking about the lives that Kinmoku lost--" "I should have realized that sooner--" "But it's not really to our credit, is it?!" Seiya's voice was almost urgent, panicked. "Sailor Moon did all the work! She's the real savior of the galaxy--" "Yes. Sailor Moon was the one who actually defeated Chaos." Kakyuu's voice was gentle, soothing, calming. "But if it hadn't been for you three, protecting her from Galaxia's attacks, and encouraging her when she was almost ready to give herself up, then . . . then she would never have been able to do what she did. It was all because of you." "Oh my God." Yaten buried her face in her hands. Taiki clenched her fists in her lap, forcing herself to remain calm. "That brings me back to the original question. Current galactic attitude towards us is . . .?" "Favorable." The Queen smiled cheerfully. "How can that be?!" Seiya's voice trembled with pain and confusion. "We're failures! We couldn't protect our planets from Galaxia! When she attacked, we ran like cowards! We couldn't even bring back half of the original population of Kinmoku--" "Seiya. Stop it." Kakyuu's voice suddenly turned sharp and commanding. Seiya fell silent, lowering her eyes away from the Queen's face. "We did *not* run from Galaxia," Kakyuu began, her voice still authoritative and no longer warm or gentle. "We stood our ground, and we fought her. And the result? We were defeated, just as hundreds of far more experienced and powerful Sailor Senshi had been defeated before us. As far as the galactic populace is concerned, the outcome of that battle was practically pre-destined. It was fated. There was nothing we could do about it. Now, that may not be true, but that's what the rest of the galaxy thinks about it. The important thing is that after our defeat, we were able to escape. We did not abandon anyone, and we did not turn out backs on this planet. Because by that time, there was nobody - nothing - left to protect. So we escaped. We lived to fight another day. And when the time finally did come to face Galaxia again, we stood our ground for a second time, and we fought. You three were successful when I was not. And because you were able to stand up to Galaxia, because you were able to protect and encourage Sailor Moon, Chaos was defeated, and the galaxy was reborn. Granted, the war with Chaos has taken an apocalyptic death toll upon the galactic populace. But among the remaining survivors, who constitute the vast majority of the galaxy at the moment, you three are . . . well, you're heroes. Everybody owes you their life, including those hundreds of reborn Sailor Senshi. Do you understand what I'm saying? The rest of the galaxy views you as heroes." Then the Queen stood up gracefully, pushing her chair back into the table. "I really must leave you all now. I have important business to attend to. And only the three of you can work this out, anyway. I know that you won't hide anything unless it's of trivial importance, anyway. I trust you." As the three Senshi sat in disbelieving silence, Kakyuu left the room, closing the door quietly behind her. After a moment, Seiya was the first to break the silence. "So, uh . . . What exactly are we expected to talk about tomorrow?" "Earth." Taiki began flipping through the legal briefs. "I'm fairly sure that the subcommittee will only be asking us to relate the events of the final battle with Galaxia. But there are bound to be questions about the other time that we spent on Earth. And as such, there are certain issues that we are legally exempt from divulging." "Such as . . . ?" "Most of it is covered under the PPA amendment twenty six." "The Planetary Privacy Act? Oh, was that the thing about sexual partners and blood donors--" "But I never donated blood while I was on Earth!" Seiya interjected. "Um . . . That's not really the issue here . . . " "What I'm concerned about," Taiki began, quietly but very seriously, "is whether we should tell them about . . . you know, our disguises." "Better than having the subcommittee think that we posed as lesbian idols," Yaten chuckled. "We'll tell them that we disguised ourselves as men. We *won't* tell them just how thorough the disguises were, agreed?" "Good idea." "And another thing . . . " Taiki shuffled through a thick stack of notes. "As far as we're concerned, we spent the evening of August thirtieth, 1996 at home, rehearsing for our next performance." "Why? What happened on August thirtieth?" "Idol cops. Ahem, ahem." "Oh, yeah. Right." "And then on the tenth, we went to that camp . . . " "I vote to strike that from the record, too. Let's just say that we went to see a movie, or something." "What movie?" "I forgot." "So did I." "So did I." "But before that, on July twentieth," Taiki glanced down at her notes, "Seiya, you dragged Tsukino-san around on that little date of yours." "Um . . . " Seiya blushed uncomfortably. "What, pray tell, are we going to say to the committee about that?" "Or, more importantly," Yaten said as she leaned back in her chair, lacing her hands behind her head, "what exactly are we going to say to the committee about Tsukino-san in general?" Seiya fidgeted nervously, but said nothing. "It's your call, Seiya." "I'm thinking about it." Seiya closed her eyes and thought. Hard. << "It's dangerous, just the two of us alone in this room . . . " >> "No," Seiya answered, "no, there are some things that should be kept between us and the Queen. So, um, if the issue comes up . . . Usagi and I were close friends. We were very close. All four of us, even. That makes it so that the ending of it all is a bit more . . . sensible. Yes, I guess that's the word. Sensible." she mentally added, "Right." Taiki grinned. "So, with a few exceptions, we just agree to tell the truth and nothing but the truth, all right?" "Wait a minute. Aren't there usually empaths present at these things?" "Yes," Yaten nodded, "to catch liars like us in the act." Then she smiled, almost coldly. "I can block them. Easily." "Yes, but if they *sense* you blocking them--" "They won't sense it." "You can shield all three of us?" "No problem." "If they catch us lying," Taiki said solemnly, "the consequences are going to be very - very - grave. Since one can't exactly impeach a Sailor Senshi, the Assembly will be content to persecute and vilify us for the rest of our lives." "I'll be careful," Yaten assured them. "Trust me." The three of them spent the rest of the day in that conference room, heads bowed together, whispering quietly, planning out exactly what they were going to say, and how they were going to say it. They didn't end their planning session until late that night, when, bleary-eyed and exhausted, Taiki suggested that they all break to get a good night's sleep. So they did. Except, of course, for Yaten, who had the same disturbing dream that she'd had every night for the past two months. "You HAVE to remember me when you wake up tomorrow!" the dead man pleaded with her. "This is my absolute last chance to warn you!" "But I can't remember, no matter how hard I try!" Yaten felt tears threatening. Almost every night since she had returned to Kinmoku she had been living a nightmare; and her waking self remembered absolutely none of it. None of it at all. "You're running out of time!" "Why? What happens tomorrow?!" "Tomorrow is the day that I die." "No . . . " Yaten shook her head in stunned negation. "No, that can't be . . . tomorrow is our congressional testimony, we won't be able to--" "If you don't stop this from happening, the consequences will be worse than anything you ever imagined." Yaten buried her face in her hands. "Oh holy Maresuu, what am I supposed to do?" she moaned. "REMEMBER ME! That's all that you have to do! Remember me, please, I'm begging you!" It was at that moment that Yaten snapped awake with a gasp, and as her eyes flew open and filled with sunlight, the last memories of her dream evaporated into nothingness. ******************** Exactly one hour after she woke up, Yaten found herself seated beside Seiya and Taiki in a luxurious waiting room outside the subcommittee's headquarters, dressed in her formal skirts and attire, waiting nervously for her turn to testify. She was already concentrating on casting out her thin mental shield over her friends; once she got it calibrated just right, she would be able to leave it alone as it was, and fully devote her mental energies to other matters. There. Perfect. Yaten switched off her empathic senses and tried to tell herself to calm down. Feel normal, and act normal. That's all there was to it. Seiya shifted nervously in her seat, clearly uncomfortable in her heavy skirts. "Have they said what order we're going in yet?" "It's a surprise," Yaten muttered sarcastically. The three of them waited, silently, apprehensively. After a few more agonizing minutes of waiting, a perky blonde page in a too-short skirt suddenly poked her head out of the subcommittee's room. "The Assembly calls miss Kou Yaten to the stand," she announced cheerfully. "Miss Kou?" Yaten thought sourly. But she stood up gracefully, elegantly, tucked a stray strand of silver hair behind her ear, and took a deep breath. "I'm ready." "Follow me." Yaten could feel Taiki's and Seiya's eyes on her as she followed the well- coifed and well-manicured page through the forbidding wooden door. The Sol Report subcommittee, as it turned out, consisted of ten elderly members of the general congressional Assembly, two of them women. Yaten didn't recognize any of their faces, but she felt the first gentle tendrils of empathic thought - emanating from the white-haired old gent sitting third from the left in the second row - brushing against her mental shield. He didn't sense the shield. Good. The room was comfortably small and cozy, but not overly claustrophobic. The subcommittee members arranged themselves in two rows of ten seats each, facing a testimonial booth equipped with an oversized wooden chair and one small, lowly microphone. Yaten stood beside the chair, holding her left hand over her heart and her right hand in the air, as the page swore her in. Then she took her seat, adjusted the microphone, and mentally composed herself. This was no different than any of the hundreds of times that she had appeared onstage during a concert on Earth, she reminded herself. In fact, this crowd before her was a lot smaller, so she had nothing to be afraid of, did she? Yaten scanned the subcommittee members with her sharp, observant eyes. Although many of them kept their faces calm, detached, and professional, a few of them - including the two women - were actually smiling at her, warmly, encouragingly, as if trying to tell her not to be afraid. (And, Yaten noticed ruefully, at least two of the men were already oggling at her chest. Bloody old perverts.) Carefully, Yaten turned up her empathic senses, just a notch, feeling for a vibration from her audience. She was surprised to sense peace, trust, a bit of nervousness, and even a bit of awe and hero worship. And then Yaten knew that she and the subcommittee were on the same side. Good, that would make the whole thing that much easier. The foreman of the subcommittee shuffled a stack of papers in front of him, and coughed softly. It was the signal to begin. "Miss Kou Yaten, the Sol Report subcommittee, vested with the power and authority of the Assembly of Kinmokusei, has called you before us today concerning a matter of grave importance - the defeat of Chaos, and the end of the Sailor Wars that had ravaged this galaxy for so many long and terrible years. It is your duty, as an eyewitness of this event, to answer any and all questions that we may ask you, honestly, truthfully, and completely, in order to aid us in our quest to discover the truth behind this occurrence." "I understand," Yaten nodded. "Are you ready to begin?" "Yes, sir." And then the questioning began. And Yaten talked. She spoke for nearly two hours. ******************** As Yaten was testifying before the subcommittee, and Seiya and Taiki were waiting impatiently nearby, a young military officer, just promoted to the rank of lieutenant, was marching down the palace hallways, making his daily security rounds. He whistled to himself softly as he marched, because it was rather dark and lonely in the basement level of the palace, where only the locker rooms and athletic equipment for the guards and the Knights were located. At the moment, there wasn't another living soul in the basement. The young officer guessed that all the Knights must be in an important meeting or something, and all the Guards were on duty somewhere. He was mildly disappointed. He rather enjoyed watching the pretty but scantily-clad young Knights working out in the gymnasium, moving their lithe, beautiful, sweat-glistening bodies over around under and through the exercise equipment-- "Excuse me, sir?" The soldier quickly whirled around, surprised by the tap on his shoulder. He found himself facing a sallow-faced man with a shockingly bright-red mass of hair on his head and unnervingly coal-black eyes. He was dressed as a commoner, with what was probably a bag full of his belongings slung easily over one shoulder. His hair, his eyes . . . The soldier gulped nervously. Something didn't seem right . . . The man smiled, suddenly friendly. "I'm sorry, sir, but I seem to have lost my way. Could you help me?" If anything, his smile was winning. The soldier felt his nervousness beginning to melt away. He had been startled by the man's sudden appearance, that was all. He was just a commoner, probably come to the palace to pay his respects to the Queen, and he had managed to get himself lost enough to end up in the basement levels. Poor guy. "Sure, no problem!" the soldier answered cheerfully. Heck, he *liked* helping out people. It was the best part of his job. "Who exactly were you looking for, sir?" "I came to visit some friends of mine living in the palace, but I'm terrible with directions, and I've gotten myself lost . . . " "Don't worry about it. I know my way around this place like the back of my hand." The soldier grinned, feeling more and more amiable. Okay, so his guess about the man's identity was ninety percent right. That was pretty good, actually. The soldier felt proud of his intuitive abilities. "Who are you looking for?" "I--" Suddenly the man gasped, and doubled over, his hand flying upward and clutching at his chest. "What is it? What's wrong?!" "It's nothing . . . It's just a condition I have . . . I'm very weak from my journey . . . " "Are you that tired? How far did you travel from?" "Oh . . . far enough." The man straightened upward slowly, his breath settling back into a normal pattern, his face returning to its friendly, open smile. "I have brought some very exotic gifts for my friends, you see. I had to travel to far away lands, and back again, to bring them here." "Listen, I think I should take you to infirmary." "Oh, there's no need to do that." "Yes, there is. If you don't mind me saying so, you look awfully pale. I think that you might be ill, and you should see a doctor right away." The man sighed with resignation. "Very well. Can you take me there?" "Follow me." The soldier began walking, and the man turned to follow. "By the way," the soldier said as he walked, "may I ask your name, sir?" "My name . . . ?" The soldier, with his back already turned, did not see the man's friendly grin widen into a malicious leer. "I am called Reynard." Through the palace basement they marched. ******************** If there was one thing that Yaten knew how to do, it was how to work a crowd. She had most of them in tears as she recounted the death of the Kakyuu; by the time that the Inner Senshi died, even the older men were sniffing back embarrassed sobs. And then there were the deaths of the Outer Senshi . . . and of Chibi Chibi . . . and, after Tsukino Usagi defeated Chaos and was reunited with Chiba Mamoru, Yaten noticed that the women had their hands clasped together and stars in their eyes, and she half expected some of the men to jump up in their seats and start cheering. Yaten finished her testimony and returned to the waiting room two hours later, feeling tired but somehow proud of her accomplishment. It was over, finally. "How was it?!" Seiya jumped up from her seat and rushed toward her. "Not bad at all. They're not out to get us," Yaten assured her. "They're taking a break before the next summons, but they wouldn't tell me if you or Taiki was scheduled to go next." "Great." Taiki rolled her eyes. "They were actually pretty friendly." "Well, that's a relief." Seiya didn't sound very relieved, though. Suddenly, Yaten sucked in her breath sharply and closed her eyes, pressing her hands against her temples. "Yaten . . . ?" "That's funny," Yaten muttered, opening her eyes and lowering her hands, slowly. "I thought . . . for a moment . . . there was something terribly important that I was supposed to remember . . . " "What is it?" Taiki asked quietly. "I don't know." Yaten suddenly felt frightened, but she hadn't the faintest idea why. "I guess . . . I guess I forgot." ******************** Reynard had lived for hundreds of thousands of years, and as such, his concept of SELF, as related to the different beings and different environments in the world around him, evolved and changed as he progressed in his travels. In the beginning of his existence, he had thought himself weak, and was forced to acknowledge this weakness in the face of older and more powerful creatures; now, having aged considerably, he considered himself very strong, and very wise. In the beginning he had been inexperienced and foolish; now he knew that he was cunning, and clever. In the beginning he been cautious about risk-taking, being a survivalist first and foremost; now he could afford to throw caution to the winds, for there was rarely an obstacle or consequence that he could not overcome with the greatest of ease. Although, throughout the entirety of his existence, there was one important feature of Reynard's concept of his SELF that had never changed, and that never would change. Reynard was very proud of the fact that he could call himself One Sick Bastard. "How far is it to the infirmary?" he asked his prey. "Not much farther. But we have to ascend from this basement first," the soldier answered. Reynard, unfortunately, did not need to fake his labored breathing or his exhausted stumbling. The discreet cross-dimensional jump that he had made the previous night had drained more energy from him than he had expected. Which was why he was about to resort to something that he hadn't tried in over four thousand years. As much as he hated getting his own hands messy, and as much as he hated resorting to such old-fashioned methods of nourishment, the fact remained that he needed energy, and that he needed energy *fast*. The consumption of mortal blood was, of course, the quickest energy fix available to a creature such as himself. And he would need every bit of energy that he could get in order to fulfill his mission. In the entirety of his ancient existence, he had been very careful to avoid any inhabited world with Sailor Senshi on it. But that had been before he met his new colleagues, and before they had introduced him to the Master. At first, Reynard had been skeptical about their proposed plan. But the more he had weighed the risks and the rewards within his own mind, the more confident he had grown. And besides, the whole affair sounded like an awful lot of fun. Because, as he was proud to admit, Reynard was One Sick Bastard, and he enjoyed inflicting pain and suffering more than anything else in the world. Now, he was taking his first weary steps onto a world that was guarded by real live genuine Sailor Senshi. He needed to get his strength back, and quickly. Although he didn't actually expect to *deal* with any Sailor Senshi during this trip - Phase One of the plan, that was - he knew that he couldn't afford to not be careful. The ground underneath Reynard's weary feet began to slope upward. "We'll be getting to the stairs soon," the soldier said. "Do you think that you can negotiate the stairs, or do you want to go around to the elevator? The stairs are quicker, but you don't look so good, sir . . ." Reynard realized that he was out of time. The moment they reached the upper levels of the palace, they would no longer be isolated. There would be eyewitnesses to deal with, and that would just cause more problems than Reynard had energy to deal with. It was now or never. Reynard clutched his chest and gasped, doubling over with pain again. "Um, sir . . .?" The soldier bent toward Reynard, compassionate concern written all over his naive young face. "Sir, are you all right?" Reynard turned his eyes upward toward the soldier. "I'm all right," he answered. And then he pounced. ******************** "They didn't ask about anything before the final concert," Yaten recounted, "but that doesn't mean that they'll ask you two the same questions that they asked me." "I'm starving," Seiya announced to nobody in particular. "When do we get to eat lunch?" "Probably not until we've both testified," Taiki speculated. "But I'm hungry now . . . " "I'll run and see if I can grab some sandwiches or something during the break," Taiki soothed. "Wait, don't go now! We don't know when they're going to call us to testify. It could be any moment now . . . why don't we send Yaten to get some food?" But Yaten had stepped away from them and was once again absorbed in some deeply disturbing thought process, her brow furrowed with concentration, her eyes clouded over, pacing back and forth, back and forth, muttering darkly to herself. "I remembered to turn off the lights . . . I remembered to lock the door . . . I remembered to start the dishwasher . . . I remembered to mail that letter to Minako-chan . . . What on Kinmoku could it be that I forgot?" ******************** "Hey--!!" It was the only protest that the soldier ever had a chance to utter. Reynard clamped one hand over the soldier's mouth, bent forward, and sunk his teeth into the young man's jugular vein. <> Reynard's eyes widened with sudden shock. His victim was a telepath. Shit! <> The violent, panicked eruption of mental energy abruptly ceased as the soldier died in Reynard's arms. But it was too late. The damage had been done. The unexpected telepathic shockwave that had erupted from the soldier was already vibrating throughout the entire palace. If Reynard stayed where he was, he would be discovered, and quickly. No, not yet! He couldn't afford to be seen yet! But neither he could afford to leave his prey without draining its precious, energy-providing blood . . . Dragging the corpse beneath him and sucking its blood as he moved, Reynard awkwardly began to shuffle forward. His clumsy movements were absurdly comical . . . Under different circumstances, he probably would have laughed at himself. But at the moment, he was too busy planning how to overcome the unexpected new obstacle that he had been faced with. ******************** <> Yaten stopped pacing abruptly, her eyes widening as big as dinner plates. There was a voice . . . inside her mind . . . screaming . . . Why did the voice sound so horribly familiar?! <> And then, like a slick, dark, oily worm crawling through her head, Yaten felt the unmistakable event of a death taking place. The voice was silenced. "Yaten, is something wrong?" Taiki and Seiya were eyeing her curiously. Slowly, Yaten turned toward them, her eyes wide and horrified. "Somebody inside the palace was just murdered," she barely managed to whisper. "What?!" "Are you sure?!" "Positive. I felt it." Yaten clenched her fists at her side. The fear was already beginning to melt, to fade away into a familiar feeling of coldness, of detachment. Her empathic senses flared, and her heart rate accelerated. Her body was preparing to transform into her Senshi persona. She suddenly felt edgy, nervous, almost humming with energy. "We've got to do something!" "Can you trace the source of the signal?" Yaten pointed. "That way." "Right." Seiya briefly exchanged glances with Taiki; and Taiki nodded solemnly. Seiya grinned. "Let's do it! Fighter Star Power, MAKE UP!" "Maker Star Power, MAKE UP!" "Healer Star Power, MAKE UP!" ******************** The military barracks were unoccupied; the palace personnel were already scrambling into some sort of ineffective alert mode. Fortunately, the barracks were just above the basement level, and Reynard could easily drag his prey up the final flight of stairs and into the deserted, shadowy barracks, sucking his hot, life-giving blood all the while. Reynard finally drained the corpse dry, and then threw it aside, as he slouched into the shadows, hiding and weighing his options. He felt refreshed, revitalized, renewed. He was practically buzzing with energy, yes he was. In fact, he was loaded with so much fresh energy, that he could have easily teleported right back into his own dimension, safe from the guards and the Knights and the Sailor Senshi that were coming to hunt him down. But *that* would have meant abandoning the mission without completing it . . . and the Master would not be pleased. Reynard shuddered. He was a sadist, not a masochist. He desired nothing more than to avoid the Master's wrath. He unslung his bag from his shoulder and began pawing through it. It contained hundreds of youma eggs, which would require a great deal of time and effort for him to spread throughout the palace. That meant that, as it was according to the original plan, he was *supposed* to slip into the palace personnel unnoticed, and spend several days discreetly planting youma eggs. And he would have gotten away with it, too, if not for the cruel coincidence that his prey was apparently a latent telepath--! Reynard pawed through the bag quickly, frantically. But they were all type B eggs, and he couldn't use any of them now! Why hadn't he had the foresight to bring along some type A eggs, just in case--? Something shifted inside his pants. Reynard reached into his pocket, and pulled out something small, hard, and white. It was a type A youma egg. Perfect. Reynard threw the bag back over his shoulder, stood up, and began to run. He clutched the precious youma egg in his fist, tightly. It was his ticket out of this mess . . . If he could use it to provide enough of a distraction to allow him to escape notice, at least for a little while . . . As he ran, he began to grin. This was going to be fun! ******************** "HEADS UP!" "Oof!" Felina caught the ball against her chest in mid-stride, managing a second later to halt her madcap sprint before she crashed into a nearby wall. "Hey, don't throw it so hard!" "Sorry." Belinda grinned sheepishly "If we end up scratching or breaking anything, Melinda will have our heads--" "You worry to much." Belinda began to run backwards. "Come on, throw me a long one!" "Heads up, here it comes!" Felina arced her arm smoothly forward, and the ball flew through the air. Belinda leapt up to catch it, long, slender athletic legs flashing, dirty-blonde hair glowing almost golden in the late morning sunlight filtering in through the windows high above them. She caught the ball, and dropped gracefully back down toward the ground, landing on her feet and flashing the v-for-victory sign. "Score!" Felina laughed. "I can't believe that we're doing this. What if we get caught?!" "Nobody cares about these hallways," Belinda reminded her. "And a little indoor dirtball game never hurt anybody, did it?" Felina craned her head upward, nervously eyeing the fabulously carved crystal windows nearly two stories above them. The magnificent, four-story-tall, open hallways in the back of the palace amphitheater were normally only used by theater troupes transporting scenery and equipment to and from the backstage area . . . but since the disaster with Galaxia, there had been no productions in the theater. At least, not yet . . . No operas, no musicals, no classical dramas, not even an orchestra or a choral concert. The populace was too thin, the internal structure of the drama societies still too disorganized. Felina hoped that would change soon. But until then, she and Belinda could use the empty hallways to indulge in childish playgames . . . Unless, of course, they managed to break a window or two . . . "Would you *stop* staring at the windows already?!" Belinda tapped her foot impatiently. "There's no way that we can throw the ball that high." Felina turned toward her friend. "But what if somebody catches us? Knights aren't supposed to play childish games." "I know." Belinda laughed, a light, easy-going trill that always lifted Felina's spirits, no matter how much she resisted. "That's why I trust only you to come back here with me." She began idly bouncing the ball beneath her hands, unconsciously handling it with the ease and skill of an accomplished professional player. "Didja know that I was a dirtball champion in junior high? Yeah, my team won the national title my eighth grade year. I was the team captain." Felina blinked. "You never told me that." "I supposed that you never paid much attention to junior high sports." Belinda smiled at the older Knight, almost shyly. "Why can't the others be as cool as you?" Felina didn't know how to answer the question. She had been a Knight for over twenty years; she had always considered herself among the most rebellious and unconventional among the starchly traditional clan of female warriors. Well, Lady Anya had been the worst, actually; but she and Felina had been terribly close. When Felina had first been promoted to the Knights, and had been met with contempt and coldness from the other members, Anya had taken her under her wing and shown her how to cut loose and have fun in private, while still retaining a respectable image in public. After Galaxia's attack, from which Anya had never returned, Felina had been profoundly saddened. But then it came time to promote new Knights to fill the ranks of the old; and Belinda had been chosen. Belinda had chosen to attend the Military Academy high school on an athletic scholarship, but had finished her training early and been accepted into the ranks of the palace guards. Now, promoted to a Knight, she suddenly found herself mired in a strange and uncomfortable new world of politics, decorum, and diplomatic etiquette. Felina had been protecting and guiding the girl since her promotion, treating her with the same kindness and acceptance that Anya had shown her. And yes, she was terrible about letting Belinda sucker her into childish, rebellious indulgences, such as their forbidden game of dirtball, which Belinda had decided to spontaneously start in the middle of what was *supposed* to be their patrol of the lower levels. "Hey, Felina . . . " Belinda cocked her head curiously. "Did you ever expect being a Knight to be this boring?" "It's not boring at all. It's what you make of it. Besides, even if it IS boring sometimes, at least you're doing something important. You're protecting the Queen." "I suppose." Belinda ceased dribbling the ball and suddenly threw her arm backwards, preparing to launch. "Go long!" "I'm ready!" Felina cried as she began backing up. "Ten points for me if you miss!" The muscles in Belinda's arms tensed, ready to spring forward. But before she could throw the ball, she was startled by the sudden beeping of the pager on her belt. Felina's pager, too, began beeping frantically. Belinda dropped the ball to the ground, forgotten, and the two women simultaneously whipped out their pagers and examined the digital messages flashing across their tiny viewscreens. Belinda's eyes widened. "Felina . . . ?" "It's a code Green. Something's up, but there's nothing to prove that there's any imminent danger. Still, we have to report to the Queen immediately." "So what happened?" "I don't know. We'll find out when we find the Queen." Felina began running, pounding toward Belinda. "Just turn around and run. North, all the way to the conference rooms. Don't stop, okay?!" "Right--!" Belinda turned and ran, her heart pounding in her chest already, her blood thumping in her ears. Finally, some excitement! She wondered what the trouble could be. She wondered if there would be a fight . . . If she would get the chance to do something heroic . . . Felina caught up to her quickly. "I'll race you there," she suggested mischievously, winking at Belinda. "You're on!" But before they could begin sprinting in earnest, they both ran straight into the man that suddenly emerged from around the corner, and all three of them were sent sprawling across the hallway, stunned by the force of the sudden impact. Belinda managed to halt her fall backwards by landing on her rump, which caused an explosion of pain all over her butt and lower back. "Ouch!" she gasped, rubbing her sore bum and wincing. "Who--?" "My apologies," the man murmured hurriedly, keeping his eyes downcast. He was dressed like a poor commoner, and Belinda guessed that he was probably ashamed to have run into two of the Queen's royal Knights, even two that were dressed in their informal jackets and trousers and were running helter-skelter around the back hallways like irresponsible children. Timidly, he offered his hand to Felina, who was struggling shakily back to her feet. "I'm so terribly sorry, lady Knight. I should have been watching where I was going. Can I help you up?" "Thanks," Felina smiled gratefully, grasping his hand and allowing him to pull her upright. She hated it when civilians acted timid and afraid around her. "And really, it's not your fault. We were the ones who weren't watching where we were going." Belinda stood up and dusted off her trousers, grinning. "Hey, no hard feelings, okay?" She held out her hand. "Shall we shake and make up?" He smiled shyly, and shook Belinda's hand. "Thank you." "Oh no, thank you, sir." "Now if you don't mind, we have to get going. We *were* sort of in a hurry." His shockingly dark eyes widened. "Is something wrong?" "Nothing to worry about. But I wouldn't hang around back here, if I were you. Go find a crowd to blend into. There might be something lurking back here." He laughed, nervously. "You're joking, right?" "No, I'm not." Felina nodded to Belinda. "Let's run." The two of them began running. He turned and watched them go, listening as their pounding footsteps grew fainter and farther away . . . Reynard grinned, wide enough to show his fangs. Find a crowded place, indeed. He wanted to *watch* what was going to happen next. There was no way that he was going to miss the upcoming spectacle. He turned, and began walking casually, sauntering back down the hallway in the direction that the two Knights had been running toward. It was only a matter of minutes, now . . . ******************** They ran, through the palace hallways, up stairs, down stairs, hurrying, rushing, not bothering to excuse themselves as they bumped against guards, civilians, courtesans, Assembly members, pages and aides, dignitaries and nobles-- "Bel?" Felina stopped, suddenly listing sideways and leaning against a wall, gasping for breath. "Felina?" Belinda ground to a halt, whirling to face her friend. They were in the midst of one of the busier lobbies outside the offices of several Assembly members, nearing the heart of the palace - where the Queen was waiting for them - and already gathering curious stares from a growing crowd of onlookers. "Felina, is something wrong?" "I . . . don't know." Felina raised her hand, shakily, and pressed her fingers against her temples. "My head hurts. And my breathing is irregular. I feel . . . my pulse speeding up. Body temperature's dropping." "Why?" Belinda took a hesitant step toward her. It couldn't be because of the running, was it? No way. Belinda herself was hardly even sweating, and she knew that Felina had a good two decades more of training than she herself had. Felina's other hand suddenly shot upward, and she clutched her head between her hands, sucking in her breath sharply and wincing with pain. "Agh, my head!" "Felina--!" Belinda lunged forward. "No!" Felina sank to her knees, shaking her head in protest to . . . something. "No, Bel, you've got to run away! Run and get Melinda! S-S-S- Something's w-w-wrong . . . " There was definitely a crowd gathered around them now, and Belinda could feel dozens of curious eyes staring at her intensely. She turned to face the crowd, and began barking orders. "Somebody get a doctor! NOW!" But nobody moved. They were staring, transfixed, horrified. And then Belinda heard a horrible stretching, squelching sound, as if somebody's skin were being torn apart-- Somebody's skin WAS being torn apart. Belinda whirled and stared, her eyes widening with terror. "Oh Holy Goddess," she gasped, instinctively forming a protective sign with her hands. Felina's skin was stretching, growing, and yet darkening and hardening at the same time. She didn't scream, and she didn't even cry, as her face contorted and elongated into something that was most definitely not human . . . It all happened within the space of a few nightmarish seconds. Felina's body stretched and grew into something more horrible than Belinda had ever seen in her life. It was all dark and leathery, gaunt and angular, with batlike wings, a wickedly wagging tail, haunched hind legs, spindly forearms ending in slender hands with hooked claws, and a face like a primeval lizard with snake- like fangs. The *thing* stood up slowly, spreading its wings, eyeing the frozen crowd with malice glinting in its dark eyes. And then, without warning, it attacked. ******************** "Whoa . . . " Healer halted in midstride. This, of course, caused Fighter and Maker, who had been sprinting along a few steps behind her, to crash into her back. Three Senshi spilled to the ground. "Ouch!" "Ouch!" "Ouch!" "Wait, something's wrong!" Healer suddenly exclaimed, as if this were a major revelation. "You know . . . You could have told us that *before* you stopped running . . . " Fighter winced in pain, slowly managing to stand upright. "What is it now, Healer?" The tone of Maker's voice betrayed her impatience. "We have to go back." "Back where?" "North. Toward the Assembly. Something's happening." "Where's the Queen?" Healer shrugged. "I dunno. But I don't think she's in trouble." "Healer, are you sure about this?" Fighter scrutinized her carefully. "I mean, what exactly would you describe as 'something's happening'--" <---danger---> Fighter's head suddenly snapped upward, her eyes widening. "What in the--" <---DANGER---> Maker nodded to Fighter. "Whatever it is, I just sensed it, too." "Now do you believe me?!" Healer asked, impatiently tapping her foot. "We've got to get going." "Right." Fighter pointed dramatically. "Back that way!" They ran, again. ******************** <---DANGER---> That was the second time the warning had sounded in her head, and Kakyuu had had enough. She pushed aside Melinda and the other Knights, already marching toward the doors. "But, my Queen," Melinda protested, "If it's a code Green, you mustn’t leave the safety of your quarters--" "You forget that I am also a Sailor Senshi," Kakyuu reminded her, sternly but gently, "and that I have a duty to perform to protect this planet. Oh, and by the way, you should probably update the status alert to a code Red." "Are you sure?" "I feel something . . . sinister. I don't know how to describe it." "If it's a code Red, then we cannot allow you to leave these rooms without our protection," Melinda stated evenly. The other Knights watched the confrontation, nervous, hesitant. It was their duty to gather in the Queen's private chambers and keep her protected during any normal status alert; it had always been so for thousands of years in the past, anyway. Now, apparently, the Queen wanted to change that. But then again, Kinmoku had never had a Sailor Senshi for its queen before. Kakyuu stopped and stared at Melinda for a moment, sizing her up calmly. Melinda did not flinch, and did not lower her eyes; she stood her ground. The watching Knights held their breath. And then, thankfully, the Queen smiled. "You're right," she said softly. "I can't leave without you coming with me. And if there are innocent bystanders involved, I will need you Knights to protect them from harm." Then, without pausing for Melinda to say anything, and unmindful of the dozen or so Knights that were staring straight at her, Kakyuu took a deep breath and stretched her hand toward the ceiling. "Kinmoku Planet Power, MAKE UP!" ******************** Belinda dodged the monster's first lunge, easily, rolling on her side along the ground as the monster miscalculated and leapt above her. The crowd began scattering, and people were screaming. Belinda crouched and watched the monster pause for a moment, confused, unsure what to do or who to pursue as screaming pages, aides, and civilians panicked and rushed around it. Belinda's hand flew to her hip, and rested on her sword. Even dressed in her most casual uniform, she was always required to arm herself. Thank the Goddess for that. She stood up, and drew her sword. And then stopped, clutching the hilt in her trembling hands, swallowing a nervous lump in her throat. The monster turned and stared at her. It was too tall to be Felina. At least seven feet tall, if not more. Its body and skin color was reminiscent of a giant lizard, or perhaps a gargoyle. Belinda couldn't tell for sure, but there appeared to be some sort of strange red marking across the back of its wings. There was nothing even remotely human in its flat, black eyes. In fact, its eyes looked at Belinda with nothing but hunger and greed reflected in them. Belinda wondered if it wanted to eat her. The screaming, panicking crowd was dispersing. The lobby was emptying out. And then, suddenly, there was nobody left except Belinda . . . and the monster. "Felina . . . what happened to you?" Belinda whispered, fearfully. What had caused the sudden transformation of her friend? Was it some sort of a disease, or a virus? When did Felina catch it? Was it contagious?! Belinda had been with Felina for the entire day - could she be infected, too?! The monster regarded Belinda, coldly. Then it took one slow, menacing step forward. And another. And another. The sword trembled in Belinda's hands. "Felina, I don't want to fight you!" But of course, the monster *knew* that. That's why it was grinning. Another step. Another. It was close enough now that Belinda could feel its hot breath brushing against her face. She raised the sword, slowly, pointing it at the monster's chest, wondering if she would actually be able to thrust it forward. "I-I-If you come any closer, I swear, I'll--" The monster raised its clawed hand, preparing to strike. Belinda pulled the sword close to her body, preparing to thrust. The sudden sound of quiet, calm finger snapping caused both combatants to freeze, startled, and to whirl around, searching frantically for the source of the strange new noise. "Penetrating through the darkness of night . . . " "The air of freedom breaks through . . . " "We are the three sacred shooting stars!" "Sailor Star Fighter!" "Sailor Star Maker!" "Sailor Star Healer!" Three shadows were balanced precariously on top of a potted tree on the far side of the lobby. "Sailor Starlights, Stage On!" "Sailor Senshi!" Belinda cried out with sudden relief. The Senshi, however, were still standing in one spot, eyeing the monstrous creature with unabashed amazement. "What the hell is THAT thing?" Fighter asked, incredulous. "I don't know, but it's really ugly," Healer commented wryly. "Um, guys . . . I think we caught its attention . . . " Indeed, the monster was turning away from Belinda, and was beginning to advance toward the Senshi. It stopped, and crouched low. It was preparing to leap at them. "Healer - left! Maker - right! I'm on top of it!" Fighter barked. "Surround and blast the sucker!" The creature sprang forward. With feline grace, Healer dodged to the right. Mirroring her, Maker leapt in the opposite direction. And Fighter jumped high into the air, coming down on top of the monster's backside, slamming her hands between its wings and leapfrogging over the startled creature as its own momentum carried it forward and it crashed into the potted tree, howling with pain. Fighter landed gracefully behind the monster, balancing delicately on her feet. "Fighter, your gloves--!" "Eh?" Fighter looked down at her gloved hands, and saw that her palms were dabbled with slick, dark blood. "That's not my blood . . . " "Look at its back!" There were two bloody, handprint-shaped burn marks on the creature's back, where Fighter had placed her hands. Maker squinted. "What's that mark on its wings?" The creature groggily stumbled away from the smashed and broken potted tree, growling and stumbling, clearly growing angrier with every second. Healer gasped. "It's kanji!" "What?! No way!" "Japanese kanji?!" "It IS kanji," Maker announced, scrambling around to keep a clear view of the creature's back. "It says 'youma.' " Belinda, who had been watching the battle from the sidelines, bit her lip in consternation. What were they talking about?! The monster, finally regaining its bearings, paused for a moment, whirling its head around and snorting thoughtfully. The three Senshi had managed to surround it, and it was unsure which to attack first. Because Maker was behind its back, Fighter yelled at her. "Blast it now, before it decides to attack again!" "Right." From out of nowhere, Maker produced her weapon, the Star Yell. "Star Gentle Uter---" Belinda leapt, and tackled Maker, throwing her to the ground with a bone- crunching thump. The Star Yell flew out of her hand and slid across the ground. "You can't hurt her!!" Belinda practically screamed. "SHE'S MY FRIEND!" "Ouch," was Maker's intelligent reply. "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!" Healer's fists trembled with fury. "ARE YOU CRAZY?!" Fighter just stared, shocked into stunned silence. The monster, too, was apparently surprised by this unexpected turn of events, and stood still even longer, confused and unsure how to act. "Five minutes ago, that thing was Felina, a Knight, like me," Belinda explained frantically, scrambling to get off Maker's back. "I don't know what happened to her, but there MUST be a way to SAVE her--" "Oh yeah, like how?!" Healer retorted. Fighter turned toward Healer. "If there was a person inside that monster, would you be able to sense it?" "I don't know--" "LOOK OUT!" Maker and Belinda pulled themselves out of the path of the charging monster, which had decided at that moment that it was time to stop standing around like an idiot. It whirled, changing its direction to pounce at them again, and Maker roughly pushed Belinda aside, kicking outward as she did so, connecting the heel of her boot squarely in the monster's soft, vulnerable stomach. Not only did the monster howl and stumble backwards, but its skin instantly seared and burned where Maker's boot had touched it. Maker stumbled away from the creature, dragging a startled Belinda with her. "Would somebody hurry up and do something before it EATS us?!" "I'm on it." Fighter rushed forward. "Star Serious--" "NO!" Belinda screamed in protest, but Maker held her back. "--LASER!!!" Beams of searing blue light bombarded the monster, and it yowled in pain. "I just drained its energy," Fighter explained quickly, "I wasn't aiming to kill it." She whirled to face Healer. "We need a verdict, and we need it now!" "A little patience, please? I'm concentrating." Healer's eyes were closed, her brow was furrowed with effort, and her hands were gently massaging her aching temples. Despite its weakened state, the monster was still grunting with fury, and beginning to slowly lurch forward again--- Healer's eyes suddenly snapped open, widened with shock. "Holy Goddess, there IS another presence in there!" "I TOLD you so!" Belinda cried out in triumph. "Yes, my dear, but what are WE supposed to do about it?" Maker snapped coldly. Belinda's eyes grew narrow and furious. "I don't know, but YOU'RE the frickin' SAILOR SENSHI, and you're SUPPOSED to be able TO HELP PEOPLE and you should SAVE THEM when they're in TROUBLE--" "Brace yourselves, it's coming again!" Fighter warned. It was already charging toward them. "Fighter - take the girl!" Maker shoved Belinda roughly towards Fighter. "Healer and I can drain that thing's energy, if you provide a suitable--" She interrupted herself as she gracefully dodged a swipe of the monster's claws. "--distraction." "Girl, come with me," Fighter roughly yanked Belinda toward her. Belinda twisted her wrist out of Fighter's grasp. "My name is Belinda, and I'm one of the Queen's royal Knights!" Fighter blinked. "Um . . . Aren't you a little young to be a Knight?" "I'm already seventeen years old--** YEEEEK!" Belinda screamed with sudden surprise as one of the monster's clawed hands became entangled in her long hair. The monster roared and yanked her toward itself. "Star Sensitive INFERNO!" The monster howled in pain as the Senshi attack struck its arm, ripping its claws from Belinda's singed hair and backing itself into a corner, panicked, drained, angry. Belinda, for her part, gasped and stumbled forward, shocked by the sudden blast of crackling electrical energy that had flown by her head and nearly set her hair on fire. She tumbled forward, arms flailing-- "Gotcha!" Fighter caught her and pulled her in close, backpedaling furiously away from the monster. "You okay?!" "Oh, no," Belinda moaned, clutching Fighter tightly. "And now, for the second try." Maker coughed, self-consciously. "Ahem, ahem. Star Gentle UTERUS!" Another blinding flash of light. And then the monster, groaning and shuddering, collapsed forward onto its knees, trying in vain to flutter its batlike wings for a moment, but giving up suddenly and letting them droop listlessly. Its eyes glazed over and it sat, panting, staring at nothing. "We drained its energy," Healer scowled at Belinda and Fighter, "but NOW what are we supposed to do?!" "I don't know." Fighter shook her head helplessly, gently prying Belinda's pale white fingers off her shoulders. "We should contact the Queen--" At that moment, the thunder of over a dozen sprinting pairs of feet roared throughout the lobby. And Sailor Kinmoku, followed by all but two of her royal Knights, rushed into the lobby from the northeast hallway. The final Sailor Senshi took one look at the monster sitting in the corner of the lobby, and ground to a sudden halt (but gracefully so), her eyes widening with shock and surprise. "Is that a demon?!" Melinda, for her part, took one look at Belinda, arms wrapped around Fighter's shoulders, head temporarily resting on Fighter's chest, and her eyes narrowed angrily. "Lady Undari! What do you think you're doing here, and where is your patrol partner?!" "Over there," three Senshi and one Knight said simultaneously as they pointed toward the creature. And among the Knights, there was much murmuring. ******************** Reynard watched this all, not from the shadows, but in broad daylight. Of course, he wasn't exactly standing anywhere where the Senshi could see him. He was standing in the midst of the palace gardens, alone and ignored by the rest of the inhabitants of the palace, who had fled toward the northern residential wings or had been evacuated altogether. Reynard had the perfect vantage point to watch the Senshi battle his youma. Because, of course, he was watching their reflections in his favorite mirror. The mirror was an invention of his that he felt particularly proud of, even though it had taken him a good two hundred years to perfect its design. It allowed him to follow his creations, to watch their every move, in such detail and clarity that he might as well have been standing in the midst of the actual battle. The mirror simply reflected a distant reality back to him in a form that he could see; not only that, but it *recorded* its images as well, and if he so wished, Reynard could replay choice moments over and over again an infinite number of times. But at the moment, the mirror revealed nothing to him except cause for worry. Before he had met his Master, Reynard had never dared to venture onto a world protected by Sailor Senshi. He had limited his travels to either vulnerable pre-Subspace planets full of ignorant, innocent victims; or to Lost worlds such as the Tau system, which welcomed his kind. And now he was reminded just exactly why that was the case. The Senshi had beaten his monster, there was no doubt about that. Their powers were indeed impressive. And yet . . . They had been holding back. Yes, Reynard had sensed it. Before the meddling little Knight had tackled her, the one called Maker had been preparing to channel enough raw power to blast the youma to ashes. Reynard had felt the surge of summoned power throbbing deep into his bones. But the foolish Senshi had diluted their own attacks, and believed that they could actually save the youma's host . . . "There's no way," Reynard muttered to himself, oblivious to the undertone of uncertainty in his own voice. "My youma eggs are too powerful for them. There's no way they can be separated from the host. The Senshi will have to kill it." He peered into the mirror, watching the Starlights gather around the fourth and final Senshi, Sailor Kinmoku, and hurriedly begin discussing something in low, anxious voices. The Knights, on the other hand, gathered around the girl named Belinda, and began berating her soundly. Reynard watched the drama unfold before him, pondering his strange new enemies. ******************** "I'm going to try something," Sailor Kinmoku announced suddenly. She was gripping something tightly in one hand. Melinda blinked. "Where did you get that?" "Oh, this?" Sailor Kinmoku cast a curious glance at the object held in her hand. It was a long, ebony-white, ruby-studded rod topped with a gilded gold olive blossom. "I don't know. It just popped into my hand a moment ago. But I think it might be useful for something." "It's a magic wand," Healer explained impatiently to the Knights. "Duh." "Spontaneous generation of weapons is not an uncommon phenomenon among the Sailor Senshi," Maker added, academically. "And after all, this is her first transformation while back on her home planet." Seiya said nothing, but remembered with vivid clarity the moment that she and her friends had first decided to disguise themselves as Earthling men, and the Disguise Wand had suddenly appeared out of thin air and plopped right into her startled hands. Seiya turned toward her Queen. "So, um, does it have a name?" "The Heart Blossom Healing Wand." The corners of Sailor Kinmoku's mouth turned upward in a small, wry smile. "Don't laugh." Nobody dared to laugh. Sailor Kinmoku stepped forward, toward the exhausted monster. She pondered it for a moment, clutching her wand tightly, wondering how to proceed. Then, like magic, the words came to her, falling lightly and naturally off her tongue. "Kinmoku Heart Blossom--" She swept the wand in a graceful arc before her, then held it out straight, pointing toward the monster. "--Healing Petal SHOWER!" The tip of the wand suddenly erupted in a spray of sparkling light and flashing flower petals. The monster howled and screamed. "You're hurting her!" Belinda cried out as she sprang forward-- Melinda grasped her fist around Belinda's wrist and yanked her sharply backward. "The Queen knows what she's doing!" Melinda hissed. The flower petals engulfed the howling monster in a thick, swirling vortex of flashing lights. And then, suddenly, they dissipated into thin air-- --revealing a very confused and exhausted-looking Felina left slumping against the wall where the monster had previously been. Sailor Kinmoku lowered her wand, a small, triumphant smile dancing across her lovely lips. "Well, now. I did it." Breaking away from Melinda's grip, Belinda rushed forward and embraced her friend. "Felina! I'm so glad that you're all right!" Felina blinked. "Uh . . . What happened?" "As far as we can tell, you were infested with a youma," Melinda replied, drolly, but somewhat more gently than her normal tone, nonetheless. "Are you all right?" "Yeah . . . I think so." "That was really a youma?" Fighter sounded faintly impressed. "Possession of a human host, unnatural demonic appearance, separation and banishment accomplished by a Sailor Senshi," Healer counted off on her fingers. "Yep, sounds like a cut-and-dry youma to me. Don't you remember *anything* that Lady Anya taught us?" "Yes, but, I wasn't sure--" Suddenly, Maker's hand shot out and grasped Fighter's shoulder tightly. Her eyes widened, apparently with some great sudden realization. "Fighter . . . What did we call that thing again?" "The technical term is a 'youma,' " Fighter repeated dutifully, wincing because her shoulder hurt. "Is something wrong?" "No. Say it again." "Youma. Youma. Y-O-U-M-A. Youma." "Do you remember," Maker began slowly, "when we were on Earth, and when we were talking to Tsukino-san and her friends about their pasts?" "Yes . . ." "Fighter . . . they used that same word." "What?" "Youma. They said youma. Same context, same meaning, same pronunciation, same inflection, same tone--" "That's impossible," Melinda snapped, approaching the Senshi as if she had every right to suddenly include herself in their conversation. "According to our records, Earth is a pre-Subspace civilization still. You're suggesting . . . cross-cultural language contamination, aren't you? But that's impossible." "No . . . " Healer shook her head, her eyes widening. "I remember. We were speaking Japanese, but they said 'youma.' I didn't think anything of it at the time, but . . . " "The Galactic Standard word for a creature such as that is indeed 'youma,' " Sailor Kinmoku began thoughtfully. "But there are thousands of other words, in other languages, that name the same thing . . ." "No. They said 'youma,' and they meant youma. We all heard it," Maker insisted. "And they used another word, too . . . Not just them, but, well, everybody in that country . . . " Fighter blinked. "There was another word?" "Yes. Two, actually. 'Sailor Senshi.' " "You're kidding," Melinda said flatly. "She's not," Fighter and Healer countered in unison. By now, the rest of the Knights had also gathered around, listening to the conversation carefully. "But you said they were speaking a language called Japanese," Melinda protested, "so how could they be using any Galactic Standard terms? If Earth is pre-Subspace, then they've never initiated alien contact, so there's just no way that culture or language sharing could occur, and no way that those words could work their way into their vocabulary--" "I know that!" Maker snapped impatiently. "I don't have an explanation for it, I'm just observing the facts!" "Hey, Maker . . . " Fighter tugged her wrist, pleading for attention. "What about the kanji?" "Oh, yes. One more thing. There was a Japanese ideograph character on the back of that youma's wings, and it stood for 'youma,' " Maker explained. "A *Japanese* ideograph?" Sailor Kinmoku tilted her head. "I didn't see it, but then again, I didn't get a good look at the youma's back--" "I saw it," Belinda interjected loudly. She was standing toward the back of the crowd, supporting a very groggy-looking Felina on her shoulders. "I saw it clear as day. But I couldn't for the life of me read it or pronounce it. It didn't look like any language I had ever seen before." "That's because it was Japanese." Healer frowned, pondering. "But that language is native to Earth. It doesn't make any sense." "Maybe it's because--" But before Maker could finish her hypothesis, all of the pagers on the Knight's belts beeped simultaneously. "What *now*?" Melinda grumbled as she fumbled for her pager. ******************** Reynard cocked his head at his mirror, alternatively confused and curious. The three Sailor Senshi had recognized the mark on his youma. This, in and of itself, was troubling enough - he used an ancient and long-dead language, after all, and only chose the mark because he thought it deliciously funny that nobody would ever be able to understand it. But even stranger, they had named the language and given it a source of origin - Earth. Well, not only did Reynard not have the faintest clue what "Japanese" was supposed to look like, he could personally guarantee that neither he, nor his colleagues, nor his Master had ever - EVER - set foot on the tiny backwater planet known as Earth. Curiouser and curiouser. The ancient spacefaring species that first invented Reynard's favorite ideograms had blasted itself into nuclear extinction eons ago. He could hardly even remember, let alone pronounce or spell, the name of the race or their language. He was merely fond of the ideograms themselves, and by marking his youma with them, he did, in a strange way, wield great power - it was like his own secret code to himself, and although others could see the marks, they could neither comprehend nor interpret them properly. That was, until now. How very strange, Reynard mused. But as long as the Senshi were jumping to the wrong conclusions, he was safe, at least for the time being. Oh, look at that. The Senshi and the Knights were now murmuring excitedly among themselves, and Sailor Kinmoku was turning away from them, pointing toward the south wings of the palace, and signaling the others to follow her as she began running. Well. Apparently, somebody had discovered the body of his victim. With a wave of his hand, Reynard sent his mirror back into the dimensional pocket where he stored it. He had seen enough for now. Then, with a shudder of summoned power, he transformed his clothing into that of a palace janitor. It was a rather easy spell, one that wouldn't dispel enough energy for the Senshi to detect, but still powerful enough to allow him to pass through the palace unnoticed for a day or two. Now that enough time had passed, there was no danger of him being connected in any way, shape, or form to the scene of the murder. And, thanks to his well- timed distraction, the only two people who had witnessed him passing through the lower levels - those two unfortunate Knights - had their own problems to worry about, and surely had forgotten all about him already. Good. All was good. Reynard unslung his shoulder bag one last time, and pulled it open, reaching into it and pawing through the youma eggs inside it. If he could distribute them evenly among the many pockets in his uniform, then he wouldn't have to carry around the conspicuous bag anymore . . . Good. He would do just that. Spread the first batch of type B youma eggs, and then report back to the Master. Reynard had a job to do. ******************** There was already a nervous, murmuring crowd gathered around the entrance to the lower-level military barracks. Fortunately, Melinda's loud, authoritative voice quickly parted the sea of people as the Sailor Senshi and the Knights entered the barracks themselves. Inside the deserted barracks, there were only three guards, one homicide detective, a whole lot of yellow warning tape, and, laid out neatly on one of the beds . . . one dead body. As one, the Senshi and the Knights paused, horrified. The guards and the detective quickly bowed before their Queen, resplendent in her sailor fuku, even with the confused look of shock and horror clouding her features. "My Queen," the detective began speaking formally, "Lady Senshi, and Knights of the Realm. The body of this unfortunate soul was found not five minutes ago by one of his comrades. Cause of death appears to be a massive loss of blood . . . " He waved his hand over the neck of the dead soldier, where two fresh, raw puncture marks stood out in stark contrast to the soldier's otherwise pale, flawless skin. "This does not appear to be the work of a human." Maker sucked in her breath. "Vampyre." "No way." Fighter shook her head. "Not in this sector of the galaxy!" The Knights were muttering excitedly. "I thought that the vampyre were extinct--" "There hasn't been one spotted in this quadrant for thousands of years--" "They wouldn't dare show their faces on a planet with Sailor Senshi--" "It could just be the work of a sick human killer--" "No way, not a serial killer, not in the palace--" Quietly, unnoticed by the others, Healer tugged weakly at Maker's gloved arm. "Ne, Maker . . . " "What is it?" "I think . . . " Her voice sounded strange, detached, and bizarrely distant and tinny. Maker turned her head, staring at her friend. Healer was staring off into space, her eyes slightly glazed over, her face pale and terrified. "I think . . . I recognize that guy . . . " "Who? The detective?" "No . . . The dead guy . . . " "Healer? Are you all right?!" "It's all coming back to me, now. Oh, no, I'm such a fool . . . " Her legs wobbled underneath her. "Healer?! HEALER?!" But Healer, overwhelmed by a sudden flood of memories pouring into her brain, merely rolled her eyes up into the back of her head, and fainted. Her unconscious body hit the ground with a dull thud. As one, twenty-some heads swiveled and stared. Melinda sighed, frustrated. "NOW what is it?!" "Take her to the infirmary," Sailor Kinmoku snapped. "Quickly!" They did. - end part two -