Let the Past bury its dead.

	Longfellow, "A Psalm of Life"














_______________________________________________________________________

Kinmokusei Story

Chapter Fifteen:  Memory

	by Kotetsu

_______________________________________________________________________
















	The Sultan didn't even bother to knock or announce himself.  He simply 
threw open the bedroom door with a flourish.  "Sultan is here!"

	Immediately, a black leather-gloved hand reached out toward him, grasped a 
handful of silken shirt at his throat, and roughly yanked him forward.  He 
squawked with surprise.

	The hand let go of his shirt, pushed his shoulder, and whirled him around.  
He felt another hand closing around his left wrist.  His arm was yanked behind 
his back and twisted, painfully.  A small, soft body pressed against his back.  
The first hand clapped over his mouth, painfully digging its fingers into his 
jawbone.

	"Don't move," a voice whispered into his ear.  "And don't scream.  Don't 
even make a sound."

	The Sultan nodded, wordlessly.  He could hear black leather creaking 
quietly.

	Somewhere, somehow, the door slammed shut again.  That must have been 
*her*, reaching out with her leg to kick it shut behind her.  

	Slowly, carefully, the hand removed itself from his mouth.  "You can talk, 
but don't you dare raise your voice above the normal level.  Understood?"

	"Yes, Mistress," he replied humbly.

	The woman holding him paused.

	Then she yanked sharply on his already twisted arm, sending a jolt of 
searing pain up his shoulders.  "Don't get any wrong ideas!"

	"Sultan likes this game!" the Sultan gasped eagerly, apparently undaunted 
by the pain.  "Punish me more, Mistress!  Punish me more!"

	"Oh, for the love of--!"  With a snort of disgust, Healer suddenly let go 
of the Sultan's arm and pushed him roughly forward, taking a bit of pleasure in 
the fact that he stumbled and almost fell.  He caught his balance, and turned to 
face her, his eyes glimmering with vapid, stupid anticipation, his gaze eagerly 
flickering across every line and curve of her fuku-adorned body.  She resisted 
the sudden impulse to cross her arms over her breasts, hiding them from his view.  
She had *never* felt uncomfortable in her sailor fuku before, but this was 
ridiculous!

	He cocked his head at her.  "But Sultan said that this was getting-to-know-
each-other-with-all-clothes-still-on night.  Did Mistress change mind?"

	"My clothes *are* still on," she snapped testily.

	"Not much."

	"Look," she growled, snatching her makeshift rope of twisted bedsheets and 
braided drapes from the floor and snapping it menacingly between her hands, "just 
be quiet and let me tie you up, okay?"

	"Ooooooh, of course, Mistress," the Sultan demurred submissively, holding 
up his hands in a gesture of surrender.  "But with clothes still on?"

	"Yes, with clothes still on!"

	"Not so fun," the Sultan sighed with resignation.  "So, then, we save big 
fun for honeymoon?"

	"There isn't going to *be* a honeymoon," Healer hissed, stepping toward him 
with the rope in her hands.  "I'm going to march right out of this room with you 
as my hostage, and if ANY of your loyal subjects gets between me and the fastest 
spaceship to get me off this Godessforsaken planet, so help me, I'll start 
ripping off your digits!"

	"What about book?"

	"What book?!  Oh . . . "  Healer hesitated for a moment, suddenly unsure of 
herself.  "Right.  The book . . ."

	Unfortunately, a moment of hesitation was all that the Sultan needed.

	"Aha!" he cried out as he leapt toward her, slamming his body into hers and 
throwing her off balance.  She cried out with shock and surprise; then tumbled 
backward, crashing into the silk cushions that littered the floor, the Sultan 
falling right down on top of her.

	"HEY--!"  The shock of the impact caused Healer's fists to spring open, and 
the makeshift rope flew out of her hands.  A split second later, before she even 
had a moment to think or react, the Sultan had shot out his hands and grasped 
both of her wrists, pushing them against the silk cushions and pinning her to the 
ground.  He laid on top of her, plunged his head downward, and smashed his lips 
into hers.

	She screamed, the muffled sound vibrating and dying in her throat.

	The Sultan pulled back his lips and raised his head, hovering inches away 
from her furious, flushed face.  "Like new game?" he inquired softly.  "Sultan 
likes *this* game."

	"This isn't a *game*!" Healer snarled, vainly struggling against his grasp.  
She despised the warm, heavy weight of his body pressing down on top of her; as 
she writhed and wriggled, the silk cushions piled underneath her back only slid 
around uselessly, giving her no friction, no force to support herself with.

	The Sultan was staring at her now, his eyes suddenly dark and somber.  
Healer was momentarily taken aback by the serious weight in his silver eyes.  
"You are," he said, slowly, carefully, "very beautiful."

	Healer sighed, sadly.  She stopped struggling, allowing herself to relax 
underneath his body.  "Just because I'm pretty isn't reason enough to want to 
marry me."

	"Your heart shines.  Sultan feels it."

	"I .  . . "  Healer could feel her blush spreading down her neck and upper 
chest.  "I'm a Sailor Senshi, and I can't leave my Queen or my planet."

	The Sultan's eyes were full of sadness and sorrow.  "So . . . they do this 
to you?"

	"What?"  Something in the Sultan's expression suddenly made Healer feel 
dizzy and confused.  Was it pity?  Sympathy?

	"Sailor Senshi . . . always slave to planet."

	"No!"  Healer shook her head fiercely.  "No, you've got it all wrong!"

	"Sultan reads.  Sultan listens."  His voice was so soft and tender.  It 
almost brought tears to Healer's eyes.  "What they did to you.  And other two.  
Death - death for the Queen!  They killed you.  They stole you from homes, locked 
you in palace, and killed you for Queen."

	"That's not what happened at all!" Healer protested, a bit frantically now.  
"We were given a choice every step of the way.  We chose this fate - this destiny - 
of our own free will!"

	"Destiny?  Fate?"  The Sultan peered at her, thoughtfully.  
"Indoctrination.  Brainwashing.  Lady Anya was cruel."

	"Lady Anya was my teacher!" Healer snapped.

	"Taught what?"  The Sultan cocked his head at her.  "To serve?  To kill?  
To numb self?  To subvert self to the Crown?  To sell soul to Queen?"

	"No!  No!"  Healer was trembling from head to toe.  The most horrible thing 
about it was that she herself couldn't tell whether her shivers were the result 
of fear or anger.  Or both.

	"Senshi . . . dehumanized.  Made into living tools for ruling royalty of 
planets."  The Sultan himself sounded bitter now, angry.  "Taught to serve and 
obey - but to destroy, to fight, to kill!  Is no wonder Galaxia did steal so many 
Senshi souls."

	"No," Healer gasped, almost weakly.  "You've got it all wrong."

	And then, slowly, softly, the Sultan leaned forward, pressing his small 
round body against hers, and brought his lips to her ear, whispering two words 
with breath that tickled against her earlobes.  

	"Epsilon Four."

	Healer gasped.  Her eyes flew open with shock.  Her body went rigid with 
fear.

	She tried to speak, but her voice trembled and died in her throat.

	The Sultan let go of her wrists.  It didn't matter anymore; she did not 
struggle, did not try to move.  She lay still and silent underneath him, staring 
up at the ceiling, willing the tears not to spill out of her eyes . . . 

	He laid on top of her, gently brushing his hand against her cheek, twisting 
his neck slightly and nuzzling his lips against her ear.  He whispered to her 
again, his voice gentle, loving, understanding.

	"What they did to you . . . I'm so sorry."

	












	Epsilon Four was a primitive backwater planet, still in the pre-Subspace 
stages of society.  Industrialization had swept across the planet no more than 
two hundred years ago, and the scientists of that world were only just beginning 
to hypothesize the experimental physics that would eventually lead to Subspace 
theories.

	There was not yet a Sailor Senshi from the Epsilon system.

	At least, not a public one.

	"There's a Sailor Crystal hiding around here somewhere," Taiki asserted, 
shading her eyes against the glare of the distant yellow sun and scanning the 
broad expanse of leafy green public park in front of her.  "Galaxia wouldn't 
bother to send scouts to this system if there wasn't already a Sailor Crystal 
growing somewhere on this planet."

	"So, then, we've already reached the endgame, haven't we?" Yaten had 
whispered, softly, dispiritedly.  The three of them were sitting on a park bench 
underneath a shady old tree, watching the people in the park.  Families picnicked 
on colorful blankets, children laughed and played in the trees, joggers and 
bikers passed to and fro across the plowed trails, and a pair of old men fed the 
ducks breadcrumbs around a nearby pond.

	Seiya shifted uncomfortably on the bench, tense, nervous, edgy.  "There's 
still Vega," she pointed out hopefully.  Of course, she was talking about the 
remaining Subspace civilizations.  But all three of them knew the ugly truth, 
deep within their hearts - Galaxia was now picking off the very edges of the 
galaxy, the planets that had not yet developed the technology to become part of 
the larger galactic society.  And that usually meant that there were no Sailor 
Senshi; or, such as in the case of Epsilon, a Sailor Crystal existed somewhere, 
but it may not be "awakened" yet, or if so, then not publicly recognized.

	It was terrifying to dwell upon the fact that Galaxia had already come so 
far and destroyed so much.

	There were hardly any Senshi left to oppose her, now.

	"But . . . "  Taiki paused, almost afraid to voice the possibility that had 
been weighing upon all of their minds, almost afraid of getting her hopes up too 
high.  "But what if Galaxia doesn't know which person holds the Sailor Crystal, 
either?"

	Yaten and Seiya remained silent, not knowing how to answer the question.

	It was an utterly incomprehensible concept; to *not know* which person on 
the planet held the all-important Sailor Crystal.

	"Pre-Subspace," Yaten sighed, shaking her head.  "It almost feels like 
going back in time."

	Seiya looked down at her hands.  "I miss the Princess," she said softly.

	From the other two, there was silence.

	They scanned the blissfully oblivious crowd in front of them, waiting 
nervously.

	Suddenly, Yaten gasped and bolted upright.  "There!"

	She pointed straight in front of her, the tip of her finger trembling.

	A woman with flowing gray hair and an obviously alien scent was stalking 
across the grassy green fields--

	Her Presence was a dark, cold, empty void inside of Yaten's mind.  It was 
one of Galaxia's Animamates.  The black, empty hole in her soul where her Sailor 
Crystal had previously been pulsed and throbbed, calling to Yaten across the 
distance that separated them.

	Taiki reached up, grasped Yaten's wrist, and pulled her down swiftly.  
Yaten thumped back down onto the bench.  "Wait," Taiki ordered sternly.

	"Don't call attention to yourself," Seiya reminded her.  "We can't afford 
to give ourselves away.  Not on a pre-Subspace planet."

	Yaten closed her eyes, concentrating.  "But I can't get a reading on her 
intentions.  I don't know what she's going to do."

	"Is it Pewter Fox again?"  Taiki frowned, glaring at the Animamate.  Not 
more than three days ago, they had barely escaped Alpha Centauri when Pewter Fox 
had slaughtered the Senshi there.  

	Seiya licked her lips, leaning forward nervously.  "She's heading straight 
for that girl."

	"What girl?"

	"That girl over there, sitting by that tree, with that tall guy."  Seiya 
did not point, but she nodded in the general direction.  Her hands were clenched 
into fists, her nails digging into her own thighs.  "Yaten, is she--?"

	"I don't know!"  Yaten hissed, fiercely, desperately.  "I don't feel 
*anything* abnormal from her, much less the energy of a Sailor Crystal--!"

	"Don't expend all of your energy," Taiki snapped, pinching Yaten lightly on 
the shoulder to bring her back to reality.  She stood up, gesturing for the other 
two to follow.  "Look, I don't care whether that girl is a potential Sailor 
Senshi or not.  But I *do* see Pewter Fox right in front of me, out in the open, 
alone and very much vulnerable to attack.  I say we take her now.  It's three 
against one; she's outnumbered."

	Yaten bolted upright again, suddenly glaring at Taiki angrily.  "Three 
against one?!  On Alpha Centauri it was five of them against one of her, and she 
still won!  We just can't throw away our lives like that - we have to stay alive 
and together!  For the Princess!"

	Seiya was up now, too, and adding her own angry shouts to the fight.  "But 
that innocent girl over there is in trouble--"

	"--But we CAN'T transform here, in the middle of a pre-Subspace society, 
it'll blow our cover sky-high and scare the living daylights out of everybody--"

	"--Look, Seiya, I don't care about that girl, but if we can pick off one of 
Galaxia's strongest Animamates--"

	"--What in the world makes you think that we can take on Pewter Fox without 
the Princess to back us up?!--"

	"--The Princess would want us to save that girl--"

	"--There you go again, Seiya, hypothesizing and fantasizing instead of 
focusing on the reality of the situation--"

	"--It doesn't matter!  Why don't you two just shut up and henshin?!--"

	But their argument was suddenly cut short as twin flashes of golden light 
brilliantly lit up the entire park, and a piercing scream slashed across their 
ears.

	Across the park, a very interesting scene was unfolding.

	Yaten groaned with horror as she watched the events playing out before her 
eyes.  They were too late.  They had missed their chance.	

	Pewter Fox, uncloaked and unmasked, uncrossed her braceleted wrists 
triumphantly, a smile dancing across her face.  The targeted girl, drenched in 
flashing golden light, hung suspended in mid air, as a flower slowly unfolded its 
petals above her forehead.  Her tall male companion, his back pressed against the 
tree that they had previously been sitting under, shouted something wordless and 
terrified as he helplessly watched the shimmering crystal emerge from within 
her--

	Yaten felt her heart clench in her chest.  This was it, then - the moment 
of truth.

	What was going to happen if it was just an ordinary star seed?!

	The crystal winked, dulled, and began to fade to ebony black.

	Pewter Fox's smile trembled and faded.  Her face became a blank mask of 
disappointment.  "Oh, well," she sighed, "it's a failure."

	Even across the grassy expanse that separated them, Yaten could feel the 
invisible energies beginning to coalesce around the Animamate.  "She's going to 
teleport!" she gasped.

	Taiki grabbed her wrist and yanked her forward.  "Now's our chance!  If we 
don't do something now, she'll get away!"

	Seiya, however, grabbed Yaten's other wrist, and painfully pulled her 
backward.  "Wait!" Seiya cried out, desperately.  "Look over there - something's 
happening to that girl!"

	The three of them stared in horror.

	Thick, twisted black snakes emerged from the ground around the floating 
girl's feet and began to twist and writhe around her--

	The male companion cried out in terror, turned, and ran.

	Pewter Fox, who did not seem the least bit surprised or disturbed by the 
gruesome spectacle, summoned her phone booth, stepped inside it, and winked out 
of existence with a flash of golden light.

	Yaten didn't even notice that the Animamate was gone.  Her empathic senses 
were overwhelming her with sensations emanating from those black, unnatural 
snake-like things.  Her legs trembled underneath her.  There was something very

	<-wrong-bad-dark-evil-sinister-nasty-dangerous->

	about those black things.

	Seiya's hand felt sweaty as it tightened, panicked, around Yaten's wrist.  
"Yaten, what IS that stuff?"

	"I don't know," Yaten answered helplessly.

	At that moment, the snakes untwirled themselves and split apart.  They 
flashed back down into the ground from which they had emerged.	
	
	And what was left standing in the girl's place was a monster.

	It winked its grotesque green eyes, licked its oversized lips, twirled its 
booted legs, swirled its sailor collar, and smacked an almost comically large, 
cartoonish paintbrush menacingly against its open green palm.  "Sailor ARTIST!" 
it shrieked into the air.

	"WHAT IN THE BLOODY HELL--?!"  Yaten exploded, pulling both of her wrists 
free from her erstwhile captors.  "What IS that THING?!"

	Unfortunately, Yaten's shouting seemed to immediately attract the 
creature's attention.

	"SAILOR ARTIST!"  It screamed again, and launched the paintbrush toward 
them as gracefully and effortlessly as if it were a professional javelin thrower.

	"DUCK!" Seiya shouted.

	The three of them threw themselves to the ground.

	The pointed end of the paintbrush smashed into the back of the park bench 
and embedded itself into the splintered wood.  The bristled tip hung suspended, 
quivering.

	When Yaten dared to look up again a split second later, there was already 
another paintbrush inexplicably held in the creature's grasp, and she was pulling 
her arm back to release it again.

	This time, she was aiming *lower*.

	"Look out--!!"  Yaten gasped, throwing herself against Taiki and pushing 
the taller girl to the side.  Without being told, Seiya rolled in the opposite 
direction.  The paintbrush whistled through the air and plowed into the ground 
between them, digging a deep, narrow furrow into the dirt.

	Gracefully, Seiya rolled into a crouching position, unfolded and uprighted 
herself, and threw her hand toward the heavens.  "Fighter Star Power, MAKE UP!"

	Yaten felt Taiki grabbing her arms and pulling her into a standing 
position.  A moment later, the two of them followed suit.

	"Maker Star Power, MAKE UP!"

	"Healer Star Power, MAKE UP!"

	This interesting new turn of events seemed to momentarily startle the 
creature.  She cocked her head at the new Senshi, almost curiously.  "Sailor 
Artist?" she seemed to inquire with her unnatural, warbling voice.

	Healer, too, felt nothing but confusion as she stared at the strange 
creature.  Every inch of her being was straining to obey her Senshi instincts.  
Attack it.  Fight it.  Kill it.  She was a Sailor Senshi; it was central to the 
very nature of her existence to destroy and eliminate unnatural monsters, like 
the one standing before her.  And yet . . . Some small part of her struggled 
against this concept . . . Something was nagging in the back of her mind, 
something just felt *wrong* about the whole scenario . . .

	Healer turned toward Maker.  "Okay, genius, what are we supposed to do 
now?"

	"Attack it and destroy it, before it harms anybody or anything else," Maker 
answered, coldly.

	"NO!"

	The force of Fighter's protest caused both Healer and Maker to instantly 
snap their heads toward her.

	Fighter shook her head vehemently.  "No," she repeated.  "Don't you guys 
SENSE it?!  There's still a human being inside that thing!"

	"Fighter, how can you be sure of that?" Maker asked sternly.

	"Ask her!"  Fighter pointed toward Healer.  "Surely Healer can feel it, 
too."

	And, with a moment of utter and complete shock that sent a cold chill down 
her spine, Healer realized that she DID feel it.  Not just *feel* it with her 
empathic senses, but she could *hear* it, too.  She could hear a small voice 
crying out weakly in her mind--

	(	help me		)

	Healer's eyes widened with shock.  Once again, she felt her legs tremble 
underneath her.  Her throat felt dry; she struggled to swallow.

	Because, in a moment of startling crystal clarity, she could see, laid out 
before her, the only truly possible outcome of their encounter with the creature.

	(	help me please		)

	Their attacks were offensive in nature.  Their powers and abilities as 
Sailor Senshi were still rough and largely untested.  The small, weak voice of 
the human girl was growing fainter and fainter by the moment.  Healer couldn't 
even sense any discernable division between the girl's Presence and the 
creature's Presence anymore.  

	<If only the Princess were here, she might be able to-->

	(	please help me		)

	For a terrifying, dizzying moment, Healer felt herself overwhelmed and 
drowning, trapped in a dark memory of her own.

	Her hands - no more than twelve years old, small, pale, trembling - closing 
around the warm, frail, mewling baby bird, her own finger pushing downward on the 
back of its neck, squeezing, crushing, feeling the little spine snap like a twig 
underneath her finger, feeling the poor thing's last breath exhaled against her 
sweat-coated palms . . . 

	Lady Anya's words had been, "strong enough to make a sacrifice when it 
becomes necessary . . . "  Healer couldn't remember the rest of the sentence.  
She didn't want to.

	She could already feel her heart growing cold, and numb.

	(	somebody anybody please please help me	)

	With a thought, Healer shut off her empathic senses completely.  

	She turned toward Fighter.  Her legs were no longer trembling.  In fact, 
she felt very calm, almost serene, and very sure of herself.  Deliciously . . . 
cold.  "There is a human being trapped in there," she stated calmly.  "But, 
Fighter . . . you know that we have no way of saving her."

	"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU!" Fighter exploded, angrily.  Healer merely stared at 
her expressionlessly; she had been expecting this, after all.  "You're giving up 
on her so easily?!  We don't know if we can save her or not, we haven't even 
TRIED, and there HAS to be a way, maybe all we have to do is . . . "  Fighter 
trailed off, trembling, her eyes growing wide with panic.  She was beginning to 
realize, then.  She was beginning to understand that she couldn't think of a way 
to save the girl, because there WAS no way to save the girl.

	"Fighter."  Maker glowered at her, icily.  "We don't have time to argue 
about this."

	"We can't save her," Fighter moaned, low underneath her breath.

	Healer didn't care for Fighter's melodramatics.  She turned away in 
disgust.  Her heart felt like a lump of ice in her chest.  Sacrifice.  That was 
the word that Lady Anya had liked to use.  Sacrifice.  Sacrifice.  They were 
soldiers, and they were fighting a war, after all.  It was only natural, that 
sacrifices were to be made.  Besides, hadn't they themselves become nothing but 
objects of sacrifice?  Yes, again, that had been Lady Anya's explanation to them.  
After the three of them had been ritualistically murdered . . . no, not murdered, 
but *sacrificed.*  Sent into the afterlife, bound with Sailor Crystals, returned 
to the world of the living at the call of their Princess--

	Having once been an object of sacrifice herself, Healer could no longer 
conjure up any feelings of sympathy or pity for the anonymous doomed girl.  If 
she herself had been sacrificed, then it was only right - only justified - to 
sacrifice others, too.  There was no motive of anger or vengeance behind this 
rationalization.  It was only what she had been taught, after all.  Taught by 
Lady Anya, who had been her teacher and mentor in the years that she had lived in 
the royal palace.

	Sacrifice.  The word was ingrained into her very soul.

	The creature seemed to finally recover from its initial confusion.  It 
blinked, shook its head, and pulled back its arm, aiming another paintbrush at 
the three of them.  "SAILOR ARTIST!" it shrieked.

	Fighter clenched her fists at her sides, and leaned forward on her toes, 
preparing to spring toward the creature.  "Ready, guys?" she asked, strangely 
listlessly, her voice contrasting sharply with the tense readiness of her body, 
as if she already knew the answer that they would give.

	"Ready."

	"Ready."

	"Then let's get this over with."

	And with that, they attacked.














	"How do you know about that?" Healer whispered softly.

	The Sultan continued to gently stroke her cheek.  Healer didn't resist.  
"Sultan loved you since first saw you on news report.  After Galaxia defeated, 
Sultan even listened backward," he explained, despite struggling with his 
Standard dialect.  "Sultan heard rumors, stories, myths.  Some from pre-Subspace 
planets.  On Epsilon Four, were eyewitnesses.  Park was crowded.  Local news 
carried story.  Sultan saw videos, footage . . . "

	Healer squeezed her eyes shut.  "You saw us murder.  In cold blood."  At 
least, on Epsilon Four, nobody had actually believed the outrageous story when it 
broke, and it had mostly been resigned to the tabloid news circuit.  But 
occasionally, stories and rumors leaked outside of planetary confines, even 
though technically it would have been illegal for the Sultan of Turan to access 
any records or reports from a pre-Subspace world.  But then again, Healer was 
very familiar with the fact that royalty often had special connections.  It was 
mildly disconcerting, however, to think about the fact that he had effectively 
been *stalking* her . . . 

	"Not your fault," the Sultan said.

	Healer shook her head.  "It was our fault.  We were *only* supposed to stay 
low and search for the Princess.  That was our *only* mission objective.  But 
then, when the phages started appearing . . . We had to kill more of them.  We 
couldn't help it.  We were Sailor Senshi, still; we just couldn't let those 
monsters run amok or anything.  It was almost instinctive, the urge to kill 
them."  Her own explanation sounded too calm, too cold, in her own ears.  There, 
she was doing it again - numbing herself, forcing her heart to freeze itself off 
to the overwhelming feelings of guilt and despair that threatened her.

	The Sultan was still stroking her cheek, gently.  Healer actually felt 
grateful for the gesture - it was soothing, calming, relaxing.  "They made you 
that way," the Sultan insisted again.  "With planetary royalty, rumor spreads . . . 
Sultan heard story about Lady Anya, little blossom, and baby bird.  You see?  
They made you that way."

	"But . . . "  Healer struggled to form the right words.  "But it's not a 
bad thing, understand?  Everything that Lady Anya ever taught to me was true, and 
it still is.  Sacrifice is sometimes necessary, and we Sailor Senshi have to be 
strong enough to do what's necessary."

	"No," The Sultan hissed fiercely.  He raised his head again, hovering 
inches in front of her face.  "You too beautiful, shine too brightly, to be that 
way.  Please, please stay with Sultan.  Sultan loves you.  You should not be 
Sailor Senshi.  You should be Sultan's wife.  Sultan does not hurt or sacrifice 
loved ones.  Sultan does not use people as tools, will not let you become killing 
machine.  Please . . . "  His eyes pleaded desperately with her.

	"I . . . "  Healer breathed deeply, feeling her cheeks flush, feeling 
herself drawn into his open, loving eyes.  Even without her empathic senses, she 
could see the naked honesty and love in his gaze.  Honesty, and love . . . the 
two things that she desired, yearned for above all else.  Her mind whirled with 
confusion.  Everything that he had said was false and misconstrued, and yet . . . . 
and yet . . . He was foolish and misguided, but not in the least bit evil . . . 
She could see, in his eyes, the fundamental goodness shining in his soul.  He 
loved her, for the wrong reasons perhaps, but it was genuine love, all the same.  
And he only wanted to help her.

	She teetered for a precarious moment, on the brink of a decision--

	But then, the Sultan made a crucial mistake.

	He leaned down and kissed her on the lips, again.

	And the moment that she felt his wet, slimly lips pressed against hers, 
Healer was suddenly reminded - and very forcibly so - just exactly WHY she hated 
violations of her personal space bubble so much, WHY she had ended up on her back 
on the floor with a strange man on top of her, and WHY she had never wanted to 
marry the stupid old Sultan in the first place.

	Because he was the stupid old Sultan, that's why.  And because he had sent 
her flowers and mushy love notes, and caused no end of annoyance to her.  And 
because he had NO RIGHT to make her feel hot or dizzy or confused or eager, 
because he had NO RIGHT to make cheeks blush or her nipples erect or any part of 
her body throb invitingly as *his* body pressed against her, because he had NO 
RIGHT to dredge up the memories of her darkest secrets that she kept buried in 
the past!  And because, damn it all to hell, Kou Yaten did not surrender her body 
or her affections THAT easily!!!

	"GMPH MPH MPH!" her muffled scream vibrated against his lips.  Her lithe, 
small body bucked underneath him, momentarily startling him, throwing him off 
balance.  Surprised, he pulled his lips away from hers, staring at her in 
uncomprehending shock.  Healer took advantage of his momentary confusion.  Since 
he was no longer holding her wrists, she easily rocketed her hands upward, 
slammed them into his shoulders, and quickly pushed him off of her body.

	The Sultan cried out and tumbled into a pile of silk cushions.  Healer 
bolted upright, steadied her balance, and stood glaring at him, hands on her 
hips.  "All right, I've had enough!" she snapped angrily.  "I don't want to marry 
you, and I'm not GOING to marry you, understand?!  If you REALLY care so much 
about me, you should just let me go home to my planet and my Queen!"

	The Sultan stood up slowly, and held out his hands, grinning sheepishly, 
stupidly.  "Okay, okay.  Sultan understands.  This is getting-to-know-each-other-
with-all-clothes-still-on night, okay?  No more kiss.  No more touch.  Is all 
right?"

	Healer sighed with frustration.  "I don't think you understand.  I don't 
want to get to know you with your clothes on at all."

	The Sultan's face perked up instantly.  "You want with clothes off?!"

	"NO!"  Healer stomped her foot against the ground furiously, childishly.  
"I DON'T WANT TO GET TO KNOW YOU, PERIOD!  I DON'T WANT TO HAVE ANYTHING TO DO 
WITH YOU!"

	Ignoring her, the Sultan sat himself down on the edge of the large, plush 
bed and began counting off his interests and hobbies on his fingers.  "Let's see 
. . . Sultan likes croquet, tea parties, dirtball games, tigers, beaches, and 
silk underwear.  Now your turn."

	"ARGH!"  Healer screamed in wordless frustration, and threw a pillow at the 
Sultan's head.  He dodged it easily, his stupidly eager grin never once leaving 
his face.  "I DON'T WANT TO MARRY YOU!" Healer screamed again.

	"You like croquet too, yes no?"

	She launched another pillow at his head.  "I HATE YOU!"

	"We will play croquet together at honeymoon."

	"LEAVE ME ALONE!"  Another pillow whizzed by the Sultan's head.  Healer 
wished, desperately, that there was something heavier for her to throw.  She had 
already rejected the possibility of the incense burner - far too light and 
flimsy.  She wished that she had a large potted plant . . . or a sledgehammer . . . 
or a chainsaw.  A chainsaw would at least put the stupid little Sultan in his 
place.

	"Here at palace," The Sultan continued cheerfully, "Sultan has three dozen 
royal tailors and seamstresses.  Will make hundreds of silk gowns and dresses.  
Will make beautiful wedding dress for tomorrow.  What your favorite color?"

	Healer threw another pillow at him.  "YOU'RE AN IDIOT!"

	"Sultan likes white.  White look good on you."

	And yet another pillow, launched across the room.  "DON'T YOU KNOW WHEN TO 
GIVE UP?!"

	"Sultan's favorite color is blue."

	"I DON'T WANT TO MARRY YOU!"

	"Sultan likes margaritas frozen, not on rocks.  And you?"

	"I'LL NEVER MARRY YOU!  YOU HEAR ME?!  NEVER!!"

	"Sultan likes cats.  Do you?"

	Healer stomped her foot into the ground again.  "DAMMIT DAMMIT DAMMIT!!!"  

	She could tell that it was going to be a very, very long night.

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

	"That's just the problem - it's not going so well," Taiki sighed into the 
mouthpiece, cradling the Subspace phone between her chin and shoulder as she 
paced across the room.  "As far as I'm concerned, that Sultan should have emerged 
from that room screaming for his life hours ago.  As it is, he still hasn't come 
out, but all the guards talk about how they can hear Yaten's shrieking halfway 
across the palace."

	"You're kidding me."  Hideaki's voice on the other end of the line was 
incredulous, but still mildly amused.  "So the wedding hasn't been cancelled 
yet?"

	"No."  Taiki glanced down at her watch; it was now past one in the morning.  
"And we only have a few hours left."

	She was pacing back and forth across the spacious guest bedroom that she 
had been given;  Minako and Seiya lounged on her bed, lying down on their 
stomachs, the open book between them, scribbling pages and pages of translated 
kanji and whispering to each other in low, soft voices.  There was a definite air 
of tense desperation in the room.  It was only two o'clock in the afternoon where 
Hideaki was calling from.  Kakyuu was scheduled to call them for a status report 
at three o'clock in the afternoon, her time.  That meant that in just under sixty 
minutes, Taiki and Seiya might be forced to report some very, very bad news to 
the Queen.

	<Please, Goddess . . . Please help Yaten scare the living daylights out of 
the Sultan in the next sixty minutes.>

	"Unbelievable."  Taiki could imagine Hideaki rolling his eyes.  "I can't 
imagine how anybody could not be afraid of her when she's angry."

	"Well, Seiya and I aren't," Taiki teased, pausing in her pacing.  "Just 
because you're still afraid of her doesn't mean that everybody else is."

	"Okay, okay."  Hideaki pretended to be insulted.  Then he also seemed to 
pause for a moment, silent on the other end of the line.  Finally, he spoke 
again, this time very seriously, and softly.  "Hey . . . How are you doing?"

	Taiki knew exactly why Hideaki had changed his tone of voice, and exactly 
what he was making an allusion to.  She glanced over toward the bed, where Minako 
and Seiya were still whispering in Japanese, doing their best to ignore her.  
With others in the room, no matter how trusted or beloved they may be, Taiki 
could feel the old familiar desire for privacy and isolation creeping into her 
mind.  She did need to talk to Hideaki about . . . well, about *that* . . . but 
she wanted to be alone with him, and face-to-face, flesh and blood, to be able to 
touch and cuddle against him, to let him hold her and comfort her.  

	And so, she answered his question as honestly as she could.  "I'm fine.  
I'm much better now than I was before.  But I miss you."

	"I miss you, too."  Taiki could hear rustlings over the phone as he somehow 
changed his position - was he standing? sitting? lying down?  She hated not 
knowing.  

	"I think I'd better go now," Hideaki apologized.  "It's almost time for the 
Queen to call you, isn't it?"

	"No, not for a while yet . . . "  But Taiki mentally conceded that it was 
she, not he, that should actually get off the line.  She should have been helping 
translate the book, after all.  And if not that, she had a couple of minor 
crisises to solve - Yaten's wedding, and the still-present energy link between 
her and Malathos . . . Taiki shook her head, clearing her thoughts.  Celun was 
off consulting the Royal Necromancers about the energy link at that very moment.  
Of course, she wouldn't tell the Necromancers *everything*, but still, it was a 
problem that Taiki very much needed to solve . . . 

	"I'll see you again as soon as possible," Taiki promised fervently.
	
	"I'll be waiting for you," Hideaki responded, deliciously melodramatically.  
"Farewell, mon amour."

	Taiki giggled.  It was French, something that she had let slip while she 
had been reading Earthling poetry to him.  "Arevedercci," she told him, and then 
with a push of a button, hung up the line.

	There.  Let him stew over *that* word for a while.

	Minako rolled over onto her back and rested her hands on her stomach, 
sighing.  "Taiki, I didn't know you had a boyfriend.  It's . . . I dunno, weird.  
I mean, uh, surprising."

	"I seem to get that reaction a lot," Taiki said drolly as she sat on the 
spacious bed beside Seiya, peering over the other girl's shoulder at the lines of 
neatly written Standard that she was scrawling across an open pad of paper.  "Any 
luck, yet?"

	"No, not unless you count finding a spell for turning people into toads as 
a stroke of luck," Seiya replied.  "Are you sure that the Sealing spell is in 
here somewhere?"

	"It must be."

	Minako rolled back over, flipping her hair over her shoulder and picking up 
her pen, attacking her own notes again, half-heartedly.  "I'm so tired, but I 
know that if I go to bed, I won't be able to sleep at all."  She smiled wanly at 
her own joke.

	The telephone rang.  Taiki stood up to answer it.  It wasn't the Subspace 
telephone, not this time; it was the surface telephone, which Taiki picked up and 
held to her ear.  "Hello?"

	"It's me again," Celun's voice answered wearily from the other end of the 
line.  It was her third telephone call in the past hour.  "The Royal Necromancers 
finally decided to call it a night.  They were exhausted, anyway, so I let them 
go.  Still no progress.  I'm sorry."

	"It's all right.  We appreciate your help."

	"Still no news from my brother . . . ?"

	"He's still in that room with her."

	"Look, I'm . . . really sorry about everything."

	"You sound terrible," Taiki pointed out bluntly, inwardly wincing at the 
harsh sound of her voice.  "What I mean is, you sound tired.  You should probably 
get some rest."

	"How can I be expected to get any sleep when there are still so many 
problems to be solved?!"

	"They're our problems, Celun.  Like I said, we appreciate your help, but we 
don't want to burden you."

	"My brother IS my burden.  I'm partly responsible for his actions."

	"You won't be able to do anything about it if you're so tired that during 
the wedding tomorrow you fall asleep standing up."

	" . . . "

	"Celun . . . "

	"Right.  Okay.  I'm going to bed."  She hung up the line.

	Taiki hung up the receiver slowly.

	Without looking up from her notes, Seiya inquired, "Was that Celun?"

	"Yeah."  Sensing the unasked question, Taiki continued, "No help from the 
Necromancers."

	"Figures."  Seiya glanced up at the ticking clock mounted on a nearby wall.  
"Do you want to answer the phone when the Queen calls, or do you want me to do 
it?"

	Taiki closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose, 
fighting off a growing headache.  <We are in such deep trouble,> she thought, 
blackly.  <I'm sure that Kakyuu will understand our predicament, but still . . . 
we are in SUCH deep trouble.>

	"Let's wait, and see what happens in the next fifty minutes."  Taiki 
avoided answering the question.



















	As it turned out, the phone call came twenty minutes early.

	This was because the Sultan of Turan finally emerged from Yaten's bedroom, 
barely dodging another thrown pillow as he closed and locked the door behind him, 
and happily announced to his waiting guards and attendants, "Tomorrow, we marry!"

	Everybody could hear the bride-to-be shrieking and cursing the Sultan's 
name behind the locked bedroom doors.  But nobody thought it wise to comment.

	The wedding announcement was instantly broadcast across all the major 
Subspace internet, television, and radio channels.   Hundreds of light-years away 
from Turan, within the hallways of the royal palace of Kinmoku, a handful of 
guards who had been monitoring the radio frequencies instantly rushed to tell 
their Queen the news.

	When the telephone rang again, it was actually Seiya who answered it.  She 
swallowed a lump in her throat, and spoke into the receiver.  "H-Hello?"

	"Why, Seiya.  You sound nervous."

	At the sound of Kakyuu's all-too-familiar voice, Seiya squeaked like a 
frightened mouse and nearly jumped out of her skin.  "EEP!"

	Taiki glanced sharply at the clock, then back at Seiya.  Seiya's eyes met 
Taiki's, and she nodded, once, gravely.  Taiki looked at the clock again, and 
then swore underneath her breath.  "Drat."

	Minako put down her pen and made no further pretense at pretending to do 
work.  She turned her head toward Seiya and listened, intently, straining to hear 
both sides of the conversation.

	"Seiya," Kakyuu began slowly, "I've just heard . . . the most . . . 
*intriguing* news . . . from Turan."

	"O-O-Oh?"  Seiya laughed, nervously.  "Um, like, what?"

	"Seiya," Kakyuu said again, deliberately emphasizing the slow, heavy weight 
behind the repetition of the name, "what *exactly* did you promise to give to the 
Sultan of Turan in exchange for that book?"

	"Um . . . er . . . "

	Taiki buried her head in her hands.  "We are *such* failures," she moaned.

	Seiya laughed nervously again, scratching the back of her head.  "Um, er, 
well . . . We sort of kind of gave him Yaten."

	"And did Yaten . .  . agree to this idiotic idea?"

	"Well . . . no."

	From the other end of the line, there was a very, very long pause.

	Minako stared at Seiya, almost curiously.

	Seiya fidgeted nervously with her hands.  

	She swallowed, licked her lips, and tried to speak again.  "We tried to 
tell the Sultan that it was a bad idea," she explained, realizing how lame her 
excuse sounded.

	"Seiya--"

	"I mean, we didn't think that he would actually be foolish enough to marry 
her!"  Seiya nearly tripped over her own tongue, furiously spilling the words 
out.  "It was supposed to be funny, like a joke or something - I mean, it was 
funny at the time, when he grabbed her and kissed her, like, ha ha ha ha, um, I 
guess you had to have been there - he wouldn't accept any other offer, no matter 
what we offered him - he gave us the book, we have the book, and we can decode it 
pretty easily, it's just a matter of--"

	"Seiya."  Kakyuu cut her off sharply; she winced at yet another stern 
repetition of her name.  

	<Now I know what they mean when they say that names have power over 
people,> Seiya thought grimly.  She was silent, complacent, waiting for Kakyuu's 
command.

	"You realize, of course, that this course of events is absolutely 
unacceptable."  Kakyuu sounded very stern indeed.  "You must stop this wedding."

	"That's what we're working on," Seiya answered quietly.

	"See to it that you determine a more reasonable course of action this 
time."

	"I - I will."

	"And Seiya . . . "

	"Yes?"

	"Look . . . I'm sorry.  I didn't mean for that to sound so harsh."  Kakyuu 
sighed wearily on the other end of the line.  "I understand why you made your 
decision.  I might have made the same decision myself, actually.  We're both like 
that, aren't we?  Just a pair of short-sighted fools."

	"Oh, no!" Seiya disagreed quickly.  "Taiki and I are the foolish ones.  
This was supposed to a simple mission, and we just . . . botched it up."  The 
receiver trembled in her hand.  "I'm sorry."

	"We all make mistakes, Seiya.  Just be sure to fix this one as quickly as 
possible."  She paused for a moment, then said softly, "I miss you."

	"I miss you too--"

	But Kakyuu had already hung up her end of the line.

	Seiya placed the receiver back into its cradle, numbly.

	Taiki still kept her head buried in her hands.  Her voice was muffled.  
"Has anybody here ever sabotaged a wedding before?"

	"Nope," Minako answered dispiritedly, gathering up her notes around her.  
"How much time do we have?"

	"They'll be married early tomorrow morning . . . "

	"Here's a brilliant idea," Seiya announced.  "Let's go to bed while we 
still have time, all right?  We can worry about the wedding tomorrow."

	Nobody thought that it sounded like a very good idea at all; but since they 
had no other viable options at the moment, it was simply the only choice 
available.

	Despondently, the three of them retired to their beds.

	The early morning hours slowly lightened toward dawn.









	 - end part fifteen -