======================================== 
Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Orion 
A pretty original fanfic by LeVar Bouyer 
Episode #313: Low Earth Orbit 
======================================== 
 
 
Crystal Tokyo 
11 April 3035 
 
	Sailor America waited at platform 12-R of Crystal Tokyo's central
rail station.  The station was a massive complex, much of it underground,
yet through skillful lighting it was bright and cheerful as a summer meadow.
 
	The platform wasn't crowded; this train was on official business. 
It carried couriers, critical injuries that the field doctors could no
longer help, a few lucky souls who had been ordered back to the capital for
consultation or further orders, and perhaps the grimmest cargo of all: the
fatalities.  The bodies of two senshi and ninety Royal Army regulars were in
a refrigerated car at the rear.  As the train blew its whistle and pulled
in, Sailor America tried not to look at that car.  Others may have been
hardened by the entire affair, but the brunette had not yet been exposed to
the worst of it.
 
	The train slowly rolled to a stop.  America stood on the yellow
caution strip, her high heels making a soft clicking sound as she paced back
and forth.  The doors to the three passenger cars opened, and Sailor America
found that she had the wrong car; the one she wanted was further up.  Wading
through the disembarking veterans, she didn't care.  She was here.  A tall
redheaded woman in a tight white bodice, long white gloves, green boots, and
very, very short green skirt stepped out, looked both ways, and then locked
onto America.  Their eyes met, and in that moment there was nothing more to
say.
 
*** 
 
	The brass wasted on time.  Sailor Orion was immediately whisked down
several levels to a briefing room in the basement.  By now she was
developing a profound dislike of the place.  They were early.  Without
explanation, the officer who had gotten them there asked Sailor America to
stay, and so the two sat and talked.
 
	"How do you feel?" asked Sailor America after the door had closed. 
The lighting was stark, casting cold shadows on the gray floor.
 
	"I've missed you," she said quietly. 
 
	"How-" 
 
	"The nights were the worse, you know.  I couldn't call you; I'd be
up twenty-two hours at a time without interruption, and when I got to sleep
I was so tired I couldn't think at all.  It was . . . I would have given
anything just to hold you."
 
	Sailor America instinctively hugged Sailor Orion tightly.  "That
bad?"
 
	"Twelve hundred years ago, an American general said 'war is hell.' I
think he was being overly kind."
 
	Sailor America made as if to say more, but the door opened.  In came
Sailors Jupiter and Venus, and neither looked particularly cheerful.
 
	"Sirs," said Sailors America and Orion in unison, standing. 
 
	"At ease," said Sailor Venus.  They all sat; with only four senshi
in a room designed for fifty, they all had a sense of being at a funeral.
 
	"We'll get to the point," she continued.  "If you don't already
know, our supply line to the colonies has been greatly restricted down to
fifteen percent of previous levels.  Our minesweeping efforts are proceeding
as quickly as possible, but they're still terribly slow.  This is at a time
when Sailor Saturn can assure us victory only if she has the proper
supplies." The blonde gazed levelly at Orion.  "Your orders are to proceed
into orbit, and there destroy as many mines as possible with your unique
abilities.  Once you have accomplished this, Sailor Saturn will have all she
needs to force a favorable conclusion in the north and allow us an excellent
opportunity for peace."
 
	Sailor Orion blinked in disbelief.  Sailor Venus had discussed all
this as calmly as if bringing up plans for dinner.  "Venus . . . how?"
 
	"H.M.S. Osaka is waiting at the Shikoku spaceport, or at least most
of her is.  We'd planned to get into space next year, but no matter.  Our
teams are working on her now; she should be spaceworthy by this evening. 
That will also be when you launch."
 
	Sailor Orion mentally ran through a list of ships.  H.M.S. Osaka was
the newest of the Haruna-class of ships, newer than Pleiades or even Seiza. 
This particular ship had a few modifications, such as the ability of to make
terrestrial launches and landings.  Osaka had similar armaments to Pleiades:
i.e., none.  It was still under construction, so it was unlikely that most
of the ship was yet habitable, meaning a skeleton crew.  The bridge would be
essentially identical, though, and since it was where she planned to do most
of her work, that would suffice.  She was overlooking another flaw, though. 
"Wait a minute . . . how am I supposed to pull this off?"
 
	"Orion Nebula." 
 
	The redhead blanched.  "You realize what I could do with that given
Gertie assistance?"
 
	"You'll control it, though." 
 
	"Oh, will I?  Your confidence is soothing, really." 
 
	"You will," said Sailor Venus with a knowing smile that Sailor Orion
very much wanted to hit at that point.  Damn her, this was no time for
games!
 
	"And if I can't?" 
 
	"I doubt that will happen.  You've never failed us before." 
 
	"Katsuragi II." 
 
	"A isolated incident," replied Sailor Venus lightly.  "You were
still young and inexperienced.  You've improved."
 
	"You're willing to wager a lot on your optimism, aren't you?" 
 
	Sailor Venus dropped her friendly affable act and proceeded to her 
cool imposing act.  "Your objections are noted, but this is not a matter of 
opinion.  You have been ordered to carry out the mission, and you will do 
so." 
 
	'Nothing else had made sense through all this,' thought Sailor
Orion, 'I shouldn't be surprised when something else doesn't.' "Osaka can't
fly herself."
 
	"We've already got a crew together.  Only twenty, but with enough
automated support they'll be enough.  The main problem will be mine evasion,
actually." She pulled a handlink from nowhere and pressed a button.  From
the ceiling dropped down a schematic map of Shikoku.  "Our problem is this:
to make sure the allies don't try any of their saturation crap on Osaka,
we're placing this launch under the utmost secrecy.  The Allies don't even
think the ship can fly." She grinned at this; the opposition had sprung
enough surprises on Crystal Tokyo in the past month.  Now it was the turn of
the senshi.  "This also means that we can't draw any undue attention to the
corridor of space you'll be passing through; we can't afford to give them
any hint at all.  So you'll depend a lot on your pilot, Ikkei Hayashi."
 
	"Pilot?" 
 
	"We didn't have a chance to install the main guidance computers." 
 
	Orion rolled her eyes at this.  'Typical,' she thought. 
 
	"So let me get this straight," said Sailor America, who had been
silent since the meeting began.  "You're sending her into orbit as a
half-finished ship, with no computer assistance and the barest crew, thought
a minefield that's already destroyed one ship, so she can perform an attack
she already admits she can't control?"
 
	"It's just what they won't expect," replied Sailor Venus.  Sailor
America wasn't sure if the senshi of love was joking or serious.
 
	"When do I leave?" asked Sailor Orion simply. 
 
	"WHAT?" roared Sailor America.  "Jen, you can't do this!"  What if
you die?
 
	"Eileen," said Sailor Orion quietly, disregarding protocol in front
of the two planet senshi, "I met your brother in Hokkaido.  I promised him
I'd give you this message, so I will.  'Stop the war.'" A tear fell silently
from Orion's cheek, in spite of her belief she had no more tears left to
cry.  "How can I listen to that and *not* go?"
 
	Sailor America gasped at that, in the thousand revelations her lover
had knowingly and unknowingly made.  Then her mouth tightened.  There could
be only one response to this.  "Fine.  You'll go, and so will I."
 
	"Good," interjected Sailor Jupiter as she spoke for the first time,
"because that's just what your orders are."
 
	Given that it was precisely what she had wanted, America wondered why 
she was so dismayed by the news.  "Why?" 
 
	Sailor Jupiter's face and voice were under complete control, but her
eyes twinkled with a hidden joke.  "You need the experience of being a first
officer."
 
	"I'm needed *here*." 
 
	"You'll be a valuable backup in the event Sailor Orion is
incapacitated."
 
	"A dozen others could do a better job!"
 
	"And I pulled every string I could to make sure you two stayed
together."
 
	This was a reason Sailor America hadn't anticipated.  "Er . . . ."
She looked to Sailor Venus for some kind of verification, but she looked to
be ignoring the exchange.
 
	Sailor Jupiter gazed at Sailor Orion.  "You remember, don't you? 
When I spoke with you about good-byes?  I think the only thing better than
being able to say good-bye to a loved one is not having to say good-bye at
all.  To be beside her to the very end.  You see, there's a very real chance
that you won't come back, even if the mission is successful.  And having
been in your position more times than even *you* would know, Orion, I think
that neither of you would want to die alone." Jupiter spoke with a quiet,
certain conviction that the two younger senshi found impossible to ignore.

	The room was silent for a bit, the quiet only being interrupted once
when a commander was paged on the PA system.  Sailors Orion and America
simply stared at each other, telling far more with their eyes than words
could ever say.
 
	Sailor Venus finally broke the interlude with a polite cough. 
"Osaka departs at 22:00.  It's now 08:50.  Get ready."
 
*** 
 
	The Shikoku spaceport was also a shipyard of sorts; below nearly a
kilometer of offices, storage bays, terminals, hangars, and of course
bedrock, there were two full-sized bays, each of which could contain almost
any ship in the Royal Star Navy.  If by chance one couldn't, the two could
be connected, and there was always pocketspace.  Granted, the real starships
rarely lingered long here, but such was the design of the place.  Fail-safe
after fail-safe.  Bay A contained H.M.S. Osaka.  Bay B contained the
accumulated detritus and leftovers from the frantic twenty-four hour effort
to make her spaceworthy: an effort whose success would only be determined in
the next hour.
 
	The two senshi walked into the chamber.  There sat Osaka, already
being loaded onto the launch gantry.  To save time, most preflight checks
had been dispensed with, and those that hadn't would be performed later.  It
would take five minutes to move the ship into launch position; that would
have to be enough.  It would take less than five seconds to travel the nine
hundred seventy meters through the launch tunnels and up through the exit
point, at the foot of Mount Imano.  That was what worried Sailor Orion, that
and a million other things.
 
	"Launch in one hour.  Section D and F chiefs please report to 
engineering sector," sounded the PA.
 
	It was chaos, and yet above it all serenely sat Osaka.  She had the
same basic design as Orion's old ship Pleiades; they were in the same class
after all.  But Osaka was a poor man's version.  The communications masts
and dishes hadn't yet been attached, and never would now, since they'd be
ripped off during launch.  The same went for the docking gantries.  All the
usual protrusions that made Pleiades look for all the world like a slightly
flattened torpedo with whiskers were gone.  There were other things missing
as well.  Most of the living quarters were unfinished, their workers
reassigned elsewhere.  Vital life-support systems had only been completed in
the two areas people needed them in: engineering and the bridge.  The AI
wasn't there, neither were most of the computer systems.  The toilets didn't
work.  The list went on and on.
 
	Sailor Orion knew this all, and yet said nothing.  What mattered was
that the engines would get the ship into orbit.  With luck the pilot would
keep them alive once they were there.  The fusion generators would provide
the power for her to get off one ever-so-crucial shot.  And her promise to
her love would be fulfilled.
 
	Sailor America saw things in a slightly different way. "We're going
to fly in *that*?"
 
	Sailor Orion sweatdropped. 
 
	"Don't worry, sirs," said Hiroshi Daitokuji, both senior design
engineer and the man responsible for squeezing three months of work into a
few scant hours.  With his eyes, he implored them to overlook the
half-finished exterior, where the techs had only finished painting
two-thirds of the ship's name.  "I'd trust her with my life."
 
	"It's more than your life that's at stake," replied Sailor Orion
halfheartedly.
 
	"Fifty-five minutes to launch.  Alpha and Iota blocks moving into
position."
 
	"Shall we board?" asked Daitokuji. 
 
*** 
 
	They reached the bridge.  The journey had been a nightmare; walking
through naked corridors, the workings of the ship laid open for all to see. 
It was like surgery on the ship.
 
	Things improved slightly on the bridge.  Sailor Orion almost thought
it was the bridge of Pleiades; the design and color scheme was the same,
after all.  The same non-skid floor coating, the same support bars that
still got in the way, eluding the notice of design improvement teams, the
computer consoles and seats in the same positions.  True, most of them were
darkened, and most of the wall panels had been removed to allow access to
wires and electronics, but it was a command, and no matter what happened
next Sailor Orion had been in command before.
 
	"Nice place," said Sailor America, waving her last ounce of bravado
in a flare of defiance.
 
	"Forty minutes to launch.  Work group nine, discontinue work 
*immediately*." 
 
	"Okay, Sailor America," said Sailor Orion, "you wanted to go into
space with me.  Here's your chance."
 
*** 
 
	In Earth headquarters, things had calmed down slightly, if for no
other reason than those who were shaken easily had already been removed over
time.  Darwinism worked its wonders, and only the strong of heart and mind
were still here, performing their tasks with a cool professionalism that
would seem inhuman to an outsider.  Sailor Neptune looked down over it all
with her own professionalism.  Pity it had taken a war to win such
discipline.  "Report on Osaka?"
 
	"She'll launch in ten minutes, sir." 
 
	"Hm."  She looked at a schematic display of Shikoku airspace.  Still
quiet.  In order to insure the safe launch of Osaka, the Army was launching
a counterattack of its own just before departure.  It wouldn't work,
*couldn't* work because of supply shortages, but the hope was that it would 
draw enough Allied fire that the scant laser emplacements of the southern
islands wouldn't be noticed.  Otherwise Osaka would be obliterated.  "Hm,"
she repeated.  "Patch me in to Sailor Saturn, please."
 
	A few seconds passed, and then Saturn's picture was on one of the
screens, her face flushed and alive as it rarely was.  It was easy to guess
what she had been up to, even if the few drops of blood on her Glaive
weren't enough of a clue.  "Yes?" 
 
	"Sailor Saturn," said Neptune warmly, "how are you?" 
 
	"Things are improving," replied Saturn.  "I'll feel better once I
know I've got enough supplies to . . . ." She trailed off.  "Did you feel
that?"
 
	"Yes . . . ."  Before anyone could ask what they were talking about,
a shout came up from the floor of the chamber.
 
	"Massive energy wave, point of origin Hokkaido, unable to localize
further . . . kami-sama, it's huge!"
 
	The two planet senshi knew what had caused it, even before
confirmation came.

	"Pattern indicates super senshi power levels."  Suddenly the world
was just a little bit different.
 
*** 
 
	Mount Imano was a quiet mountain.  Overlooking the coastal city of
Tosashimizu, it wasn't quite high enough to have snow year-round.  This year
had a been a particularly cold winter, though, and there were a few patches
of snow left at the summit as night fell over the scene.  Below it, in a
small valley with a road running through its middle, there was a thin
black-and-yellow caution stripe.  It bounced once and was still.  Then,
birds began to fly up from the trees, panicking at the sounds of alert
sirens and klaxons.  They were completely out of place in such a sylvan
place, but at the same time a decidedly large patch of ground was moving,
and bouncing.  Then it collapsed, and a deer disappeared out of sight.
 
*** 
 
	A kilometer below, similar klaxons were ringing.  In just an hour
preparations had been made, and now H.M.S. Osaka sat on the launch platform,
aimed at a slight angle towards a gaping hole with flashing danger lights
around it.  Such a launch was very rare, mainly because of the sheer
impracticability of it all.
 
	On the bridge, there was little going on.  Only a half dozen people 
were there, and two of them were senshi.  All sat in their seats, strapped 
down as tightly as possible.  Seeing as how they were about to be shot 
through a very large equivalent of a linear particle accelerator, any 
protection against such forces was to be welcomed. 
 
	Sailor Orion sat in the captain's chair, America at her side.  As
the ship rocked back and forth slightly, Orion got curious.  "Rear view?"
 
	On one of the status screens, a camera feed from the launch bay
appeared.  The area behind Osaka was empty of everything; after all, when
the main engines fired it would get rather hot in there.  The room was
covered in reflective material to keep the walls from melting.  As if
echoing her thoughts, the call came down from the PA.  "Launch in twenty
seconds.  All launch doors have completed cycling.  Main doors opening now. 
Fifteen seconds to launch.  Civil defense patrols now on red alert."
 
	A map of the complex appeared on a screen.  It showed the slightly
curved path Osaka would follow before exiting.  A shallow rise at first, and
then a sudden sharp turn to exit at a forty-five degree angle.  The route
was outlined in green: no obstructions to tear a ship to pieces.  "Ten
seconds to launch.  All personnel are clear.  Systems read green.  Path
clear."
 
	The intercom from engineering sounded.  "Igniting main engines." 
 
	The fusion reactors lit up.  They'd been in a warm-up state for
three hours, but now they were fully unleashed, bathing the launch bay in
flames.  The fire suppression systems kicked in, keeping the worst of the
flames from harming the ship.
 
	"Seven seconds.  Severing umbilicals." 
 
	Sailor Orion tried to remain cool.  She'd been through a countdown
like this almost six years ago.  At least this time she knew where she was
going, who she was up against, and what she had to do.
 
	Sailor America had none of these advantages.  It was all she could do 
to refrain from screaming as the countdown reached five seconds, and then 
four, and- 
 
	"Three seconds.  Magnetic induction at maximum, beginning acceleration 
sequence."  The ship rocked slightly; only a few clamps were holding her in 
place.  Then:  "Two.  One.  Zero.  Clamps disengaged." 
 
	A giant pressed down on Sailor America's body with a force seven
times that of Earth's pull.
 
*** 
 
	Outside, above, and away, the local wildlife continued to look
curiously at the hole that had opened up in the ground.  It had been making
strange noises for the past minute, but now it was death.  H.M.S. Osaka flew
out of its cage like the proverbial bat out of hell and into the starry
night.  The rarest sight in the world: a full-fledged starship rocketing
through the atmosphere on a column of smoke and fire.  It would take months
to return the area to normal, and by then it wouldn't just be Mount Imano
that was in need of healing.
 
	On the bridge, Sailor America was terrified.  Previous shuttle
launches were nothing like this; despite her lighter than normal weight,
Osaka still needed a lot of thrust, especially considering her insertion
pattern.  As a result she was still accelerating, and it hurt.  The senshi
would have complained, but the roar of air rushing past the hull made it
terribly loud inside, and her headset had flown off in the first bout of
acceleration.  She had made the mistake of reaching up her hand to adjust
it and nearly had her arm taken off for her troubles.  Now she was afraid
to turn her head and see how Sailor Orion was doing.

***
 
	Finally, after an eternity of three minutes, the brute acceleration
ceased.  Now it was the pilot's turn.  Koto Segawa was a twenty-year-old
fighter ace, so to speak.  The only reason he hadn't done much more to date
was because the skies over Japan were too dangerous to fly.  Now he was
flying a very large ship through the most dangerous obstacle course he had
ever faced.  Flying by the seat of his pants, he relied more on exterior
cameras and passive radar than instruments, especially as he didn't trust
whatever job had been done on them beforehand.  The ship replied nimbly to
his commands; the hurried refit had focused on making Osaka as maneuverable
as possible, and it had been a success; she moved as smoothly as anything
Koto had ever flown.  It was almost like driving a car, though few cars
moved at the speeds Osaka was.
 
	The ship shuddered once, then twice.  "We're hit," said a tech
mildly.  Moderate damage to sectors H and I."
 
	Despite herself, Orion breathed a sigh of relief.  "Those are
empty." It was still damage, though, and with every hit Osaka took,
maneuvering and evading would be more difficult, to say nothing of getting
back home.
 
	In less than a minute, they had cleared the minefield.  Koto was
exhausted.  Too many close calls had taken their toll, and too many direct
hits: only their speed kept damage to a minimum.  Too many split-second
decisions; one man couldn't be expected to do it all and survive.  Wearily
he slid over to allow the backup pilot the helm.  Nori Yunokawa was hardly
the pilot Koto was, but she planned to do her best.  They were in orbit, and
that was what counted, for better or for worse.  Now it was Sailor Orion's
turn.
 
*** 
 
	"Oh kami-sama," groaned Sailor America.  She had forgotten how much
she disliked free fall.  Now, in orbit, with no artificial gravity, she was
remembering with full force.
 
	"Not now, America," warned Sailor Orion.  "We don't have time to get
you used to null gravity, so you'll just have to make shift for yourself."
 
	Sailor America nodded greenly and tried to stay calm, and more
importantly, not to be nauseous.  This wasn't helped at all by the ship
swerving to avoid a stray mine.  "I'm gonna be sick," she gasped, ducking
into the unfinished captain's office.
 
	Sailor Orion glanced over, as there was no door as of yet, and saw
that at least her lover had at least managed to retrieve a bag from
pocketspace.  One less thing to worry about.  "Bring us around, bearing
zero-four-five mark zero-zero-zero," she said.  It felt strange to be giving
orders on a ship again, especially an imperfect ship with darkened lighting. 
Even now Engineering was reporting lower than expected power levels.  "Now
all stop."
 
	"All stop, aye sir."  Koto wiped a bit of sweat from his bow. 
 
	"Engineering, bridge.  Power status?" 
 
	"How much do you need?" 
 
	Orion pulled out a handlink and began tapping away.  She still
hadn't learned much math.  "Ninety percent power for ten seconds.  Can you
give me that?"
 
	There was a long pause.  "I can't make any promises, sir.  I
recommend putting life support onto emergency batteries until you're
finished."
 
	"Do it, then.  How long will the batteries last?" 
 
	"Thirty minutes, and then local dedicated reserves kick in.  No
great danger; we'll survive long enough for help to arrive . . . assuming
there's a ship left.  The-"
 
	"Noted.  I'm doing it in thirty seconds."  She didn't need to say
more, nor did she want to.  They all knew what she was about to do hadn't
been tried before, and there was no guarantee of success.  At worst she
could cause a shockwave which would blow away much of Earth's atmosphere. 
At best, the shockwave would just detonate a large enough portion of the
mines to blow the war wide open for Japan, and probably take out Osaka in
the process.  Both seemed equally likely at this point. 
 
	Sailor Orion sat in the captain's chair and stared at the main
status screen.  It displayed a visual of Earth, shining a bright blue in the
blackness of the vacuum.  Taking a deep breath, she flipped the cover of the
armrest and found the switch she hadn't used in years.  She pushed a button,
and the safety was off.
 
	"Bridge, engineering.  Gertie is at 90% power, ready to disperse at 
your command." 
 
	"Thank you, engineering.  Stand by." 
 
	She closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them again.  "It's
time.  Orion Nebula . . . ." She felt the touch of a hand in her own, looked
over, and found the brown eyes of Sailor America.
 
	Her lover smiled despite the zero gravity, despite the hopelessness
of the situation.  "I love you," she whispered.
 
	Sailor Orion stared back.  There was no way she would let her die.  None. 
With her eyes she communicated what came next.
 
	Sailor America grinned and put her other hand on top of Sailor
Orion's Gertie hand.  "American Blazing . . . ." 
 
	Together they looked at the screen, where hydrogen swirled about in
a thin, dissolute nebula, just waiting for the proper spark.
 
	"EAGLE!" 
 
*** 
 
	A twentieth century physicist would have said that what happened
next was impossible.
 
	He or she would have said that hydrogen or any other matter simply
doesn't come from nowhere.  But it did.
 
	He or she would have said that such hydrogen, having such a light
mass, would have a correspondingly higher molecular speed, and would have
dispersed immediately.  But it didn't.
 
	He or she would have said that such hydrogen, while being
explosively flammable on Earth, couldn't possibly burn in space as there was
no oxygen to conduct oxidation.  When he or she was confronted with a giant
sixty-meter-wingspan eagle swooping out of nowhere and diving into the midst
of the cloud, igniting the entire mininebula with magical flames and
creating a fireworks display that rivalled some nuclear explosions, he or
she would have to shake his or her head, go back to the pencil and paper,
and rewrite the laws of science.  Science was after all only an
approximation, and that approximation was still grappling with the
resurgence of magic.  It had yet to reckon with the power of love.
 
*** 
 
	In two different rooms, on two different sides of the planet, there
were two stories.  Beneath Crystal Tokyo, exultation at a theory finally
brought to fruition, a stroke of luck that could once and for all throw the
war in favor of the sailor senshi, or more properly the super sailor senshi.
 
	Beneath Ad Dawhah, on the Qatar peninsula of the larger Saudi
peninsula, frustration and despair at a victory that was now on the verge of
being snatched away, and an alliance that had already collapsed.

================================== 
Begun: 7:28  20 July 1998 
Finished: 18:56 26 July 1998 
Final draft: 23:48 1 August 1998
Final edit: 12:11 26 February 2001
==================================