================================ 
Episode #312: The Orbital Gambit 
================================ 
 
Somewhere on the island of Hokkaido 
10 April 3035 
 
	He could have managed if it weren't for the Aussies, he really could
have.  Them and their incessant gloating about how the war would have been
over so much more quickly if they had allowed the SEAA to run the operation.
 
	The war.  As if this particular American, or anyone else for that
matter, knew why they were fighting.  One day it was in retaliation for a
Crystal Tokyo first strike, the next a police action, the next a move to
assist allies he hadn't known the AC had.  He'd heard so many stories that
he didn't know what to believe anymore.
 
	His comrades didn't, either.  The three men and two women with whom
he shared a miserable little tent each had different versions of why there
were spending their spring on this Godforsaken island waiting to die, all
quoting "inside sources." He had to admit that they all seemed equally
plausible; he didn't care anymore.  Seeing your friends die needlessly, only
to be replaced with new friends who were killed in turn and replaced with
more, made one a bit apathetic to why one was fighting.  It made one
apathetic to everything, really.
 
	He couldn't afford to cloud his mind with such thoughts now, though;
distractions were what got a body killed, and those who hadn't learned that
by now were either still at the rear and waiting for action, or had already
seen action and died for it.  There was only the rifle in his hand, which
after an eternity of combat almost an extension of his body, the worn helmet
that had already saved his life a dozen times at the least, the silent rasp
that was his breath, and one . . . little . . . thing.
 
	The memories of his sister, Eileen Pearcy. 
 
*** 
 
	"Sir?  Sir, wake up please!  Sir?  Sir!"  Sailor America woke up
groggily and looked about, trying to figure out just where she was.  The
aide seemed to read her mind.  "You're in your office, sir; you've
overslept."
 
	Overslept?  She hadn't know she was supposed to be sleeping.  For a
moment, she considered just waving the aide away and returning to her
slumber.  Then she remembered her nightmare, in which her one true love had
died a slow, painful, and particularly graphic death, alone in the forests
of Hokkaido. Suddenly she didn't want to sleep.
 
	The last few days had been exhausting for her.  The continual
balance: making sure the press didn't get too close to the truth, and in
those instances when it did, the challenge of cajoling, persuading, and in
some cases just outright bullying them into keeping silent.
 
	Sailor Cassiopeia's mood in their recent conversations said it all.  
Thanks to staffing problems, i.e. of the acute need for senshi, regulars, 
anyone at the front, she was the only senshi left in the diplomatic 
corps, excluding the planet senshi.  As such, there was no part of the peace 
negotiation process that Cassiopeia didn't oversee, and so when Cassiopeia 
had approached her and said that preparing a press release acknowledging 
Crystal Tokyo's surrender might be a good idea, she was inclined to believe 
it. 
 
	By coincidence, it was Cassiopeia who called at that point.  America 
nodded thanks to the patiently waiting aide for waking her up and punched 
the receive button on the desk.  "Hi, Sailor America." 
 
	"Hello, Sailor Cassiopeia.  I hope you're doing better."  A pause. 
"I don't suppose you have any good news to tell me, do you?"
 
	"Is an end to the war good enough?" 
 
	Sailor America sat straight up, her fatigue swept away like a
curtain.  "WHAT?"
 
	"Hold on.  Is this a secure line?" 
 
	Sailor America pushed two buttons in quick succession.  "It is now."
 
	"Good.  Now, you didn't hear it from me, and I trust you that no-one
else will hear this at all, but the planet senshi are going to propose to
Serenity that she abdicate."
 
	"You can't be serious!" 
 
	"I am, and they've got a point.  Is one person truly worth all this 
destruction?" 
 
	"Of course not," snorted Sailor America in reply.  "I still say the
AC wouldn't go to all this bother over one person." Not unless they're
totally off their rockers, she silently appended.  Then again, that was
quickly becoming as attractive an option as any.
 
	"And I suppose you would know the most about that," replied Sailor
Cassiopeia acidly, then instantly regretted it.  "Sorry Sailor America, but
this hasn't been easy the last couple weeks."
 
	"You don't know the half of it," America whispered.  Louder, she
continued, "I know.  But . . . do you think she will?"
 
	There was a long pause and a sharp intake of breath.  "I don't know. 
With her state . . . I really don't know.  And it's a closed meeting, too; I
won't be there."
 
	"Very interesting," murmured America.  "What I would give to be a
fly on the wall for that meeting."
 
*** 
 
	There were no flies on the walls of Her Majesty's Observation Chamber 
when the meeting began an hour later, insect control having been effectively 
perfected a long time ago.  In fact, the walls were glass for the most part.  
There was a bit of irony in that here, where Serenity could do the best job 
of maintaining the field that protected them all, was also the most 
dangerous place for her to be in: the topmost room in the palace,with only a 
patio above.  It was by no means a small room; there was quite a bit of 
space, and occasionally Serenity would hold her smaller parties here with 
her closest friends. 
 
	The room afforded a perfect view: 360 degrees of wraparound crystal
that allowed its occupants an unobstructed view of all of Crystal Tokyo. 
Sailor Uranus now stood at that window, looking down at the city below.  It
still looked untouched by the war, if you overlooked that one patch where
the Allied missile had gone astray.  It was, she knew, the heart of the
city, which when taken altogether made a very tempting package.  If she
ruled this land, it would be very hard to persuade her to give it up.  Yet,
wasn't that precisely what they needed the Neo-Queen to do?  If possible, to
get Serenity to step down?
 
	"It won't mean giving up," she said aloud, turning the heads of the
others in the room.  Sailor Mercury was there, and so were Sailors Venus,
Jupiter, Moon, and of course Endymion.  Sailor Mars was at RSN headquarters,
Sailor Neptune refused to abandon her post at Earth headquarters, Sailor
Saturn was of course in Hokkaido trying to save the island, and Sailor Pluto
was still missing and incommunicado.  Even Sailor Uranus was forced to admit
when the guardian of time returned she'd have a lot of explaining to
do.
 
	The ensuing silence was broken by the one other person there. 
"Good," said Neo-Queen Serenity.  She wore a simple white sun dress, but
there the resemblance to her name ended.  Her back was straight, but her
shoulders were taut; she smiled, but the strain was evident; her eyes spoke
of an unimaginable fatigue.  Protecting an entire city was not an easy task,
and clearly it was exacting its toll on the woman.
 
	As if that weren't enough, there were the continual looks Sailor
Mercury threw at Serenity.  In the past week Mercury had virtually abandoned
her other duties to remain at Serenity's side as her personal physician. 
Mercury insisted there was no danger of death, but it would be a close
thing.  How well could Serenity be expected to make rational decisions with
her mind and body so occupied?  She turned to Sailor Uranus.  "That is very
good, because we cannot give up."
 
	"But we need to make a concession nonetheless, Serenity." 
 
	"She's right," agreed Sailor Mars.  "They've got every advantage
except the higher moral ground, and that won't do us a damned bit of good on
the battlefield."
 
	"Think of the public, Your Majesty," added Sailor Venus, trying
another tack.  "We've got to do what's best for them.  Can we continue to
order them into battle when we haven't a chance?"
 
	"The recent Russian offer is palatable," said Sailor Mercury.  "It's
the only one so far that allows the senshi to remain in place."
 
	Serenity looked at them all, and then went back to Sailor Jupiter.  
"Do you have anything to add to this?" 
 
	Sailor Jupiter remained unmoving, arms folded, staring down at a
knothole in the dark wooden table.  She'd barely said a word since entering
the room, had barely done anything on her own initiative since her return to
Crystal Tokyo.  Had the others only known what she had thought and felt the
past couple days, they would have agreed it filled volumes.  She looked up,
and her face was blank.  You couldn't tell from it that she considered
herself to have been responsible for the single greatest military failure in
history.  "Your Majesty, we've been at this for two weeks.  We've lost a
full quarter of the senshi, and Army losses have been unbelievable.  A good
two- thirds of Hokkaido has been turned into a war zone which will take
months, if not years, to recover.  The sacrifices made by the civilian
sector have been overwhelming.
 
	"Please don't let it be in vain, Usagi.  Don't make me have to go
back to grieving families and tell them that they didn't have to die after
all.  Don't surrender now, after all we've done."
 
	Sailor Neptune spoke up; hers was the other remote connection since
Sailor Saturn was in the field.  "There is a time to fight on, and there is
a time when it's best to stand down and keep things from getting worse. 
Tell me, do you have a way to defeat the Allies in three days?  Because
three days is all I think we have, ne?"
 
	Sailor Mars drew her mouth into a slanted line.  "Three is
pessimistic.  We've got supplies to last another week, and then the pinch
from orbit will begin to get severe.  Sailor Saturn's doing an excellent job
in defense; her presence has already helped morale, as well as her . . .
methods."
 
	They all knew she referred to Sailor Saturn's stance on warfare:
show no quarter.  Some of the pictures coming back from the front were
nothing belonging in a rational universe, but it was getting the job done. 
Some just felt there had to be a better way.  Saturn was essentially
condoning the merciless execution of any Allies who happened to be in the
sights of a senshi, and sometimes the effects of unleashing a magical attack
intended for supernatural monsters upon simple human beings tended to put
one off one's lunch.  Then again, a lot of things in the past two weeks put
them off their lunches.
 
	"Yes.  Saturn can do it.  I believe in her." 
 
	"But only with the proper supplies.  Any ideas on how to get them to
her short of rendering Earth space useless?  Because that's just what'll
happen if we try now."
 
	Sailor Jupiter closed her eyes in thought.  She knew this was her
one and only chance to atone for her errors in Hokkaido.  She had to come up
with something good.  It came to her by chance.  "Yes, I have an idea." She
didn't mention how dangerous it would be; no need to worry Her Majesty. 
"I'll need some assets, though."
 
	Serenity looked at Jupiter levelly.  "You realize how much is riding
on this, do you not?"
 
	"I do.  But we won't lose.  Whatever it takes, we won't lose, Your
Majesty.  You have my word." If any of the six world leaders had seen the
expression on Jupiter's face at that point, the war might have ended right
there.
 
*** 
 
	None of the six could, however.  They were on the small
Mediterranean island of Gavdhos, fifty kilometers south of Crete.  There,
caressed by the gentle spring Mediterranean breeze, the moderates tried
desperately to hold the fragile alliance together.
 
	In the past day or so, things had soured even more between
Prathachulthorn and Ronowski.  Cabot was openly siding with Ronowski now,
and Liu with SEAA.  This left Rostov and Fayit as the unlikely moderates,
acting as go-betweens between the two sides.  Thinking back, Rostov was at a
loss as to when it had happened.  It was gradual, he decided.  Two big egos
like theirs shouldn't have been put together in the first place, and then to
allow them free rein over two basically opposing parts of the effort . . . .
 
	It was Heartbreaker that clinched it, he thought.  It had
essentially removed the need for Titan, and put the American Confederation
on a near-permanent higher footing.  Titan had the disadvantage of being
slow, unwieldy, and of course not very portable, and while Heartbreaker
didn't have nearly as much wallop, it more than made up for it in efficiency
and deliverability.  They all had to face it: after the war, the AC would
have a great advantage.  True, the others would still have their weapons,
but only the AC had the know-how to repair, replace, and make new ones.  It
didn't take a tactical genius to see the danger from there.
 
	The terrible truth was that none of the leaders had been very smart,
and the military leaders they might have listened to had been ignored.  For
awhile they had managed to overcome this, largely through their larger
numbers.  Had CT intelligence not been licking its wounds over the start of
the war, they might have noted that for all the poor morale of the Royal
Army, the morale on the other side was even worse.  They didn't know why
they were fighting, and in quite a few cases wanted to stop.  There was
little doubt in the minds of the powers that be that should the progress
stop, so would what little optimism sustained the regulars.  All in all,
Rostov had little reason to enjoy the Mediterranean breeze, but in this time
before yet another meeting, he knew he had to relax somehow.

	The young Chizawa Hsu came to sit by him on the long, low stone wall
that ringed the patio of the meeting place.  It overlooked the blue waters
of the sea, and would have made an excellent tourist spot under other
circumstances.  She wasted little time.  "You still want us to avoid firmer
ties with SEAA."
 
	Rostov sighed.  "As I've explained, we can't have any further 
disunity." 
 
	"Isn't that the entire point of our exercise?" 
 
	"You know damn well what I mean," he replied harshly.  "We both
decided that when it started looking like we'd lose, we'd bail out.  Now it
looks like we'll win, and you're trying to tear things apart!  Why?"
 
	Hsu shook her head sadly.  "Are you that blind, Mr. Rostov?  Did you
really think the alliance would hold past the conclusion?  We've got to put
ourselves in position to benefit once this is over, and-"
 
	"Do you take me as a fool?" 
 
	"No, but-" 
 
	"Then you know that I realize just what you're thinking.  But I'll
tell you one thing: we have changed the world.  There's no way we can go
back to our old patterns.  We must have either complete victory, or we must
stay and face defeat together.  To do otherwise is to doom the human race to
an eternity of Serenity's rule."
 
	Hsu looked at the older Rostov oddly.  "Sure.  I think you
overestimate them."
 
	"Oh yes, I overestimate them.  That's why the southern attack
completely failed.  That's why we need the combined armies of all the world
to stop her.  That's why we've lost a full-"
 
	"I know that!" 
 
	"Then why bring it up?  Mark my words, we cannot hope to survive a
split.  We just can't." 
 
*** 
 
	Sailor Orion thought it was a terrible day.  She brushed a few stray
strands of hair from her eyes.  It was cloudy and looked like rain, but
otherwise the April afternoon was unremarkable weather-wise.  That wasn't
the reason she thought it was a terrible day.
 
	The breakthrough was on the verge of being completely contained now. 
A last valiant effort by a group of crack Russian troops had failed shortly
after noon, and now they were being routed.  That definitely wasn't the
reason she thought it was a terrible day; it was perhaps the only good news
she'd received.
 
	She'd received a number of reports from Saturn's headquarters,
reports that basically said that the Allies were to be stopped at all costs. 
If that meant unleashing attacks that no right-thinking senshi would ever
inflict on another human being, so be it.  She had reluctantly sent the
orders down the line.  Sailor Orion knew that out there were three senshi
under her command, three senshi she hadn't known she had.  They'd been
trapped behind enemy lines and had hidden until the tide of battle had
turned a bit, and were now following Sailor Orion's orders.  As a direct
result of those orders, men and women were dying in ways a thousand times
worse than a gunshot wound, a hundred times worse than burning to death,
indeed even worse than having one's heart crystal shot out and destroyed. 
That, appalling as it was, wasn't the reason it was a terrible day.
 
	A small contingent of AC troops had been met and beaten just a few
kilometers away.  Only two survived: thirty-two-year-old Melissa Stanton,
and a male whose age was unknown.  All they could figure out from his melted
ID tag was that his last name ended in cy.  Stanton was alive and conscious,
and was expected to make it.  The unknown soldier probably wouldn't live
through the night.  He had, however, managed to croak out to the medics that
he needed to see Sailor Orion immediately, and then one other thing that
made Orion decide he wasn't delusional.

	He had mentioned the name Reenie.  Long ago, in one of their
admittedly infrequent discussions about Eileen's family, Eileen had
mentioned a little brother, and his cute name for her when he was a little
child.  Reenie.
 
	Orion knew that there could be only one other person who knew that
name; Eileen's parents had, according to Eileen, terrible memories.  It
could only be the brother himself, and if indeed it was, there was all the
reason needed to make this a terrible day.
 
*** 
 
	Sailor Orion wiped a tear from her eye without realizing it and
turned from the scene of trucks being loaded with ammunition.  Going to the
infirmary, she passed the sickbeds without looking at their occupants whose
eyes firmly focused on the ceiling.  At the end of the temporary tent, she
made a turn to another tent, this one guarded by two infantrymen with lesser
injuries.  Saluting, she drew aside the flap and stepped inside, where a
half dozen Allied injured awaited treatment.  Some things hadn't changed in
the hundreds of years since the Geneva Convention, and fair treatment of
prisoners was one of them.  Then again, did the Convention cover magical
warfare?
 
	She stood over him.  He had been a direct recipient of the fiery
attack of Sailor Saiph; he was lucky to be alive.  Even so, with burns over
ninety percent of his body, one would hardly consider him overly lucky. 
Orion looked over at the doctor that attended him.  "Can he speak?"
 
	"Barely, and it'll hurt like hell for him, too.  You're sure you
need him?"
 
	She nodded.  Despite the million other things that vied for her
attention, she knew that she had to do it.  "I owe it to her," she said
simply.
 
	"Very well sir, have at him."  He stepped away, but not so far that
he'd be unable to step in if Pearcy's condition took a turn for the worse.
 
	She knelt down next to Pearcy.  "Joseph?  Joseph . . . if you can
hear me, nod your head."
 
	There was the faintest of nods. 
 
	"Good, very good.  Now Joe, this is Sailor Orion.  I'm . . . ."  Her
rehearsed speech ran out of her mind like water, and suddenly she was an
ordinary twenty-four-year-old woman in way over her head.  "I'm . . . your
sister Eileen wanted me to speak to you if we met . . . I guess it would
have been this way in any case, and . . . ." She looked at his face.  Badly
scarred, but the eyes still shone defiantly.  He wasn't going to die
quietly.  "She wanted me to tell you that she loved you, and she still does. 
Being on the opposite side from you . . . it was one of the hardest things
she'd ever had to do.
 
	"She never considered going back to America, you know.  She swore
her oaths, and she stood by them.  You can be proud." 'Yes,' thought Orion
silently, 'be proud she turned her back on her family.' She wasn't being
fair, she knew, not when she'd been by her lover's side as she'd made the
decision, but when confronted with a burned shell of a man . . . .
 
	"I figured that," rasped Joseph Pearcy.  "She never broke a promise,
never."
 
	"Yes," said Orion, her voice shaking.  She was about to say more,
but was interrupted by the call of a guard.
 
	"Sailor Orion?  Sailor Rasalhague is here to see you." 
 
	Orion turned to look at the flap, and then back at Pearcy.  "I've
got to go.  Security won't allow you to speak to her, but . . . when I see
her, are there any messages you want me to give her?"
 
	He didn't hesitate.  "Tell her to end this.  End it before we all
die." His voice died away with a rattle, and Orion looked to the doctor in
alarm.
 
	"It's okay," he reassured, "he just needs rest."  Then, in a lower
voice: "I give him two days at best."
 
	She nodded through the tears; she'd lost control more times than she
cared to remember in the past couple days, and she had little doubt it would
happen again.  Straightening her hair, Sailor Orion went to the flap. 
"Sailor Rasalhague?  What did you need me for?"
 
	The medium-height, brown-haired senshi was all business.  "I'm
relieving you.  The planet senshi want you back in Crystal Tokyo ASAP."
 
	"Why?" 
 
	Rasalhague fixed her brown eyes on Orion, her elfin face framed by
short brown locks.  "Go.  You've got someone waiting for you."
 
	With a gasp, Orion was gone. 
 
 
 
=================== 

 
Begun:  7:47 14 July 1998 
Finished: 19:46 19 July 1998
Final draft: 18:35 25 July 1998
Final edit: 19:36 24 February 2001