======================================== Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Orion A pretty original fanfic by LeVar Bouyer Episode #311: Naval Supremacy ======================================== Hong Kong, Chinese Confederation 6 April 3035 "Admiral, your report please?" President Prathachulthorn was completely relaxed in his chair. Today's meeting was being held in Hong Kong, as close to the war as the Allied leaders had dared draw near to date. Originally, they were to meet in the smaller town of Yichang, but the food riots were growing worse. Safety for the six could be found only in the larger cities. "Sirs, I am pleased to report that a breakthrough has been achieved. Elements of our Fourth and Ninth Armies, under joint European and AC command, have broken the defensive line, and we have a gap of seven kilometers to exploit." There was no hiding the grins of glee that followed that statement. "Excellent!" proclaimed Fayit. "Yes sirs. Even our most pessimistic projections give us control over half of Hokkaido, and the moderates say we'll keep the entire island." Ronowski turned to Prathachulthorn, a look of triumph on his face. "You had your doubts?" he said simply. "We all did," replied Prathachulthorn. "And this war isn't over yet. Remember Kyushu." "Speaking of Kyushu," said Cabot, "isn't the little bitch who stopped us there leaving?" "Um, that's right, ma'am," answered the admiral. "Crystal Tokyo media is reporting that Sailor Saturn's been reassigned to Hokkaido, leaving one of her subordinates to handle mop-up operations in the south. Sailor Crux, I think." "It's of little matter," said Ronowski. "She can't work miracles. In the meantime, we should do as agreed and withdraw from Kyushu. Such a good faith measure should help matters on the diplomatic front." "Perhaps," said Cabot slowly, "but there's a little something we've forgotten." Liu grimaced. "Mina, Mina, Mina, we decided on that over a year ago. Your plan . . . ." "Starburst." "Whatever. Anyway, we agreed back in '34 that it was far too expensive, especially considering the possible returns. Besides, look at what we've already accomplished! We established the foothold, took care of Serenity-- that was a stroke of luck I still find it hard to believe--, and Heartbreaker has been more successful that we could have *dreamed*! Fifty-eight senshi dead so far: casualty rates no other attacker has come close to!" He didn't know about the total losses taken in the twentieth, but then again that wasn't exactly common knowledge. "Exactly," agreed SEAA. "The plan has worked marvelously so far, there's no reason to deviate now." "The greater the risk, the greater the victory." "Pretty words," came the retort, "but we won't spend trillions on an aphorism." "We can bury them!" "Then bury them yourself," said Prathachulthorn with an air of finality. "Proceed if you like, but EU will have to do it by itself." Ronowski frowned. "That's a decision to be made by the Council, Sean. You shouldn't presume to speak for us." "And you should?" "Don't start with me, David . . . ." "I think we can agree," interjected Rostov, "that Mina will proceed without our assistance. No need to bicker." Cabot sat back with a sad look on her face; she had her own reasons for Starburst, but she wasn't at all keen on her confederation footing the entire bill. 'But it'll be worth it,' she thought with a quiet smile. The president of Russia had other concerns, however. The division between SEAA and AC was only growing, at a point where it should have been nonexistent. He could only hope that the coalition held; if it fell apart, he was certain of one thing: Crystal Tokyo would have no mercy. *** The ships sat out in space, motionless and silent. With the right persons on board, they could be the most powerful devices made by man or woman, but at the moment they were next to helpless. They were the ships of the Royal Star Navy, a fleet designed to ensure that the nightmare of the Black Moon Invasion could never happen again. Now a different invasion was showing that it was essentially useless. Each ship carried a gestalt device, capable of magnifying the inherent powers of a sailor senshi. It would have been a small matter for the right senshi to obliterate Allied targets from space, to be sure. The Allied strategy still held, however; by deliberately placing their assets in and around civilian population centers, they ensured that Crystal Tokyo wouldn't dare strike, not without risking millions of innocent deaths. Thus, the senshi who commanded the ships had found more useful employment elsewhere on Earth, and the ships themselves, manned by skeleton crews, were resigned to ferrying food and supplies to a Crystal Tokyo that had suddenly had all its former terrestrial suppliers cut off. It was an operation that the Allies hadn't interfered with so far. That was due to change, however. *** Earth Headquarters was in its usual state of controlled chaos. With Sailor Jupiter's return, the mood had darkened significantly: a sharp contrast to the brighter moods that accompanied Sailor Saturn's arrival in the north. Many there remembered Sailor Jupiter's time at headquarters, and the aura of defeat she brought with her was too much to bear. They had to bear it, though, if they were to survive. As if that weren't enough, there was the breakthrough. The defense line had been broken, and now it was a race against time to contain the hole: a race many feared the Army would lose. Already, terrible losses were being taken by both sailor senshi and regulars. The only solace was that the survivors were receiving a valuable education in how to make it on the battlefield. The Royal Army may have been a group of pushovers before, but those who remained were rapidly shedding that label. Thus, there were reasons to be both encouraged and dismayed in the command center at 10:33 local time. Then there came another reason for dismay. "Air warning yellow, missile launch detected." Silently standing watch, Sailor Neptune perked up at this. So did Sailor Venus, who sat at her side. "Yellow?" asked the senshi of the seas, looking up at the status screens. "Possible threat to us, but not direct," explained Sailor Venus. "I knew that," said Sailor Neptune, but at the same time she knew the blonde wasn't trying to patronize her. "We have confirmation," cut in the talker. Her voice was a masterpiece of control under pressure. "Ballistic missile launch, point of origin estimated to be France and the Iberian peninsula, exact positions now on screen. Automatic antiballistic missile defense systems coming online. Missiles are now . . . wait, they are *not* inbound, say again *not* inbound." Sailor Neptune frowned and went to stand over the talker's shoulder. "They're not heading for us?" she asked. Dared she hope that factionalism had finally taken hold of the Allies, that their enemies might fall upon themselves and take care of all Her Majesty's problems? "Yes . . . they're just going out into space." "Our ships?" "Already maneuvering to avoid. Very odd though, sirs, they don't seem to have the speed to reach . . . er . . . ." On the status screens the missile tracks, shown from an orbital point of view, began to disappear. "What sort of trickery is this?" "Just disappearing?" asked Sailor Venus in disbelief. Then the radar began to blur into static. "Debris field," explained a radar tech in the crows' nest, jumping over the talker's precedence. "It should clear up in a few moments." "Hm," murmured Neptune. "Put the RSN on maximum alert until then. They might be planning to try some funny business under the static." "Yes, sir." *** Sailor Orion was as alone as she had ever been. In command of five hundred troops, charged with defeating with those five hundred a force easily ten times that number, and not knowing how she could possibly manage to do so. 'Any rational commander would surrender,' she thought. 'So why am I still here?' She ceased the unproductive line of thinking as she received another report. "Sir" said Eiko, "we've just received another scout report. Two platoons of Russian infantry making quick progress south. Estimated time to intercept with Beta platoon, three minutes." The redhead closed her eyes, thought, then opened them. "Dispatch twelve people from Ashinozawa Highway to take care of it, and shorten the line at Point Zankoku to compensate." Her erstwhile assistant didn't bother to note that this would place an already naked piece of land in even worse condition. As far as Eiko was concerned, it was a good thing Orion and not she was making that decision. "It'll be relayed immediately." She left Orion alone with her thoughts. The redheaded senshi hadn't had a good night's sleep in thirty-six hours, surviving on adrenaline and standard issue rations. Thrown in for variety were a few painkillers as a token act of defiance against her injury. The medics no longer pressured her to stay in bed and recover; that would quickly lead to defeat. She had to stand strong and set an example for her command, the command that had literally been decimated by previous attacks and now forced into a desperate struggle to hold back the Allied advance. Sailor Orion looked longingly to the southwest. Somewhere out there was her superior, Sailor Saturn. The only message that Orion had received in reply to her hourly pleas for reinforcements was a simple note to stay calm and hold her position. Sailor Orion had promptly replied that staying calm was contingent upon holding her position, that holding her position was contingent upon receiving reinforcements, and that therefore sending said reinforcements would indeed be a boon for all involved, all this in slightly more colorful language. To that she had gotten no reply. Thus, she worried. *** The reason she had gotten no reply was due both to Sailor Saturn's unusual style of leadership and an as yet untested theory of Sailor Mercury's that Saturn was investigating. The style was simple: lead by example. She rarely lingered in her headquarters, preferring to face the enemy personally. There she found, much as in Kyushu, that people still feared the name of Sailor Saturn. Those who didn't fear the name learned to do so. Quickly. On the battlefield she was death in a sailor fuku. She flew from one target to the next: an infantryman here, a tank there, using her glaive or her powers, whichever gave her the most advantage at that moment. Of course the Allies made her a prime target for their heart buster guns, but she seemingly had a sixth sense of where they were aimed at her: a sensitivity perhaps borne out of her previous dealings with heart crystals. Her ruthlessness became legend throughout the Royal Army, and up and down the ranks the word was passed to follow Sailor Saturn's example: ask for no quarter, and none will be given. Because of this, some began to resurrect her old nickname with a slight emendation: the messiah of destruction. In any case, it seemed that nothing could defeat her, or at least those under her command thought so. For that reason, morale in the north was steadily rising. Some even thought that there was a chance of victory. The second reason had yet to come to fruition, but if it held Sailor Saturn would have no worries about keeping Hokkaido. She walked into theater headquarters in Sapporo, fresh from a morning in the field. Wiping away the sweat with a light purple towel, she glanced up at Sailor Ankaa. "Another request from Sailor Orion for reinforcements," said Sailor Ankaa. Her long, dark blue hair whirled as she spoke animatedly. "Sailor Saturn, this is the third request today! If there's any truth-" "Sailor Orion is panicking," said Saturn quietly. "She's never been in this position before, she's unsure of what to do, and she's convinced herself that the only remedy is more firepower." She put down the towel, placing it in a corner of her little-used office along with the Silence Glaive. "The resources are needed elsewhere. She will continue with what she has." Her voice was soft, but brooked no argument. "She won't survive, sir." said Sailor Ankaa harshly. "You know that." "Have faith. Love will find a way." "Love?" Sailor Ankaa was incredulous; twelve years as a senshi, and her first taste of action lead to a romantic debate? Didn't Sailor Saturn see that if a breakthrough wasn't worth sending reinforcements, nothing was? "Yes." Saturn pointed to the heart shaped pendant of her sailor fuku, one of the distinguishing characteristics of the planet senshi in their super forms. "Love." Sailor Ankaa's eyes widened in realization. *** "Sir, shortening the line seems to have been effective," reported Eiko to Sailor Orion. "The Russian strike's been repulsed with moderate losses." "Thank the kami," breathed Sailor Orion. The two were in her office, which was merely a curtained-off corner of a larger tent. "They know we're due for *something* to go right with all this. Anything else?" "Um, nothing you don't already know about. Your plan to fix the breakthrough will begin in a few minutes." "Yes. You'll keep me advised . . . no, I'll go out and supervise it myself." "Yes, sir." Orion nodded and leaned back in her chair as Eiko left. Her leg was almost completely healed, but it still hurt terribly to walk. It hurt too much to think sometimes, too. Three hours ago she had gone to the infirmary to inquire after Sailor Pyxis. Her plight had been forgotten by Sailor Orion in the confusion of defense, and Sailor Orion had just remembered about her. Upon arrival, she had found that Pyxis was dead. When she learned this, it hadn't shocked her as much as she had thought it would. She'd expected it in a way, had gotten over the grief back during the fatal attack. No, she couldn't shed a tear, and she hated herself for it. On her way out she passed the injured. For the first time, she realized just how many of them there were. So wrapped up she had been in all the dead senshi that she hadn't noticed how many of the regular troops were dead or wounded. Their story was repeated over and over. Join the Army! Two years of service and you'll get a free line on your resume! After all, it wasn't as if you'd actually do any fighting. That was left to the Royal Star Navy, where the serious military types signed up. Now, all those who had joined the Royal Army for a fun time found their lives to be in ruins. Casualties were horrendous; up to sixty percent attrition in some divisions. To be sure, they were doing a tremendous job under the circumstances, outnumbered as they were at every turn. The losses continued to mount, though. Some succumbed to shell shock, others simply went insane. Few deserted; there weren't many places to hide, and everyone knew that if the Allies won, desertion would become moot. Most simply fell to injury, though. Here a burn, there a wound from a gun, others from a host of ailments that was a med student's dream. One in particular had caught her eye. He was pretty young: about twenty-one, typical Japanese. Like many, he had been temporarily overlooked by the overworked medical staff, left to sit and wait seemingly forever for treatment. There the normality faded away: his left eye was taped over with a red-soaked bandage, and three IV hookups were connected to his left arm. His right arm wasn't there. Sailor Orion had gasped at the sight and swallowed hard. For all her dealings with warfare, this was by far the most graphic example of its results with which she had been presented. Then he opened his mouth. "Help . . . ," he croaked, his mouth full of blood. It was too much. Orion whirled away, losing her breakfast on the floor. She grabbed onto a bedpost for support, and a minute later an orderly came by to clean up the mess. Sailor Orion quickly walked away, but no-one mentioned a word about her loss of control, at least not to her face. She couldn't shake the image of the other faces in the infirmary as she had hurriedly walked away . . . looks akin to triumph, saying "now you truly know what we face while you cry over a handful of goddamned senshi." More than anything else, she couldn't shake the face that would haunt her nightmares for nearly a year, the face of a boy crying out for help she couldn't give. She hadn't gone back there since. Looking at the perversely blue sky in the midst of what she truly thought to be hell, Orion ached so much to be with Eileen, if only for a moment. If only-- She blinked. Something had flashed. *** The something was H.M.S. Valiant, a light freighter carrying mostly food from one of the Crystal Millennium's three farming worlds. Such imports were now terribly important, especially now that trade with the grain-rich AC and SEAA had ground to a halt. Japan no longer had the land to spare on rice, and so much of it had to come from elsewhere. Valiant slipped into a reentry approach, prepared to land at the main spaceport on Shikoku. On its way, it struck what appeared to be a bit of debris from the European missile volley. The ensuing explosion assured everyone that it was far more than debris. *** On the Moon, Sailor Mars was livid. Just ten seconds before control of the ship was transferred from RSN headquarters to its Terran counterpart, the supply ship had been crippled. It now wheeled about in space, its atmosphere leaking away, its crew most likely dead. Their deaths were Mars's responsibility, and she was not at all pleased about it. "Dammit," she nearly screamed at the screen, "why in the name of the kami didn't you tell us about those mines?" "We didn't know," retorted Sailor Neptune. She looked almost terminally calm, though; either these weeks of warfare had inured her to such tragedy, or she just didn't give a damn anymore. "Up until now we thought-" "You thought wrong, and we've got thirty-eight dead because of it. We'll begin mine sweeping operations immediately. That's all." With a contemptuous poke, Sailor Mars closed the connection. "We didn't know," murmured Sailor Neptune. She stood and leaned out over the safety railing, looking out at the floor of Earth headquarters. "But we do know now, and it's going to stop." *** Mine sweeping was an art the Royal Star Navy had only practiced on computers and in literature, but now was the time to put it into action. The dozen or so ships dispatched to deal with the mines worked with a handicap, however; they weren't commanded by senshi. In particular, the absence of Sailor Enif chafed, whose ability was, or rather had been before her death, a sort of net to capture opponents. The ships had other tricks up their sleeves, however. Immediately their sensing devices went to work hunting down the mines. It was terribly slow work, though. They couldn't use nuclear weapons, partly because it would mean admitting to the world that they had them, and partly because of the environmental impact. Lasers had to be targeted precisely, a precision that simply wasn't possible with the wider beams that would have been able to take out more at the same time. After all, there were the satellites to be careful of as well. So they pressed on, but it could quite possibly take days to complete, days that Crystal Tokyo simply didn't have. *** "Foolish, very foolish," said Fayit. "Even if you planned to continue without our assistance . . . do you realize the damage you've done?" Cabot smiled. "I realize that I've just crippled Crystal Tokyo's chief means of resupply." "Fool! Don't you think they have reserves?" "They won't last forever." "I don't care," said Prathachulthorn. "The whole thing will sink us, mark my words." Ronowski said nothing, but inwardly growled. His Kiwi friend had been growing more and more annoying lately; it was all he could manage to contain his temper. He told himself that it would all work out in the end. Their objective was within sight; nothing could stop them . . . except, of course, for a surge of willpower from Crystal Tokyo, or a complete collapse on the part of the allies. Considering the precarious state they sat in, that seemed all too likely. *** She watched, and waited. She could be patient. She had to be. ================================== Begun: 07:28 3 July 1998 Finished: 18:26 15 July 1998 Final draft: 7:09 29 July 1998 Final edit: 17:16 24 February 2001