(Rating: PG) 
 
============================= 
Episode 403: Crisis Reactions 
============================= 
 
 
	The soft beep of the heart monitors was not all that broke the
silence of the hospital room.  There were the continual calls on the public
address system, the clattering of beds and gurneys as they were rushed down
the halls, the conversations of lightly injured people who had been put
there because there was no other place for them to go.  It was not the quiet
place of repose Jennifer Sakachi would have liked for her lover, but it was
the best she could manage.
 
	The redhead lay slumped in an armchair at Eileen's side.  The
brunette lay sleeping as she had since the afternoon before.  Now it was the
morning after, she still hadn't woken.  The doctors assured Jen that this
was perfectly normal, or at least what they assumed to be normal, this being
a new field of study.  After everything she had been through, Eileen needed
to rest, and thus Jen had pulled rank and gotten her lover a room alone in
Nagano-2's only major hospital.
 
	Jen blinked.  "Did I doze off?"  The napkins and cookie crumbs that
she had left on the night-stand earlier were gone now, and the blanket was
more neatly tucked around Eileen.  She had been intent on not sleeping until
Eileen awoke, but apparently she drifted off sometime during the night.  She
checked her watch; it read 7:02.  If it were a normal day, she would be at
high school working on her lesson plans, but it was no ordinary day.  Even
if all schools hadn't been closed due to the state of emergency which was
optimistically scheduled to end later in the evening, she would have stayed
there anyway.  Sighing, she flopped back and reached for the phone.  "Hello? 
Yes, this is Sakachi, room 357.  I'm ready to order breakfast now."
 
*** [title sequence] ***
 
	A few kilometers away, the capitol building of Nagano-2 was nearly
empty.  The executive council was in session within one of its meeting
rooms, and so was the person they advised: the governor.  Parliament itself
was out of session due to the elections in just three weeks, so today's
decisions would have to be made without a full parliamentary vote.  While
true that the governor could have called an emergency session, he had his
own bones to pick with Parliament, so he didn't.  Nagano-2 had no mayor, so
no-one fitting his role was there.
 
	"We obviously face the gravest crisis in our colony's young
history," began the governor.  "Yesterday's attack, by forces we still
cannot even identify, puts us all in great risk."
 
	"We know that," replied the undersecretary of the environment.  "So
what are we gonna do about it?  Communications with Serenity are gone, we're
out on the border, there's no-one we can call for help.  We don't have any
real spaceworthy ships, and the defense force is near helpless.  All we have
is two senshi, and one of *them* is sidelined!  What if another attack were
to begin tomorrow?"
 
	"I've already issued executive order A-33, authorizing the
construction of a new senshi gestalt device."
 
	"A gertie?"  Environment was aghast at the prospect.  "On a 
*planet*!  Dear heavens, man, do you want to kill us all?!"
 
	"No, I want to save us!  Who's to say the senshi can keep up
performances like yesterday?"
 
	"To do that," interjected the undersecretary of defense, "would 
require we break the budget-" 
 
	"And that would be covered by Her Majesty," replied the governor. 
"In cases of extreme emergency we can disregard the budget and spend as much
as necessary.  The different will be made up from the treasury."
 
	The undersecretary of finance lost his calm.  "Sir," he nearly
bawled, "our finances have always been precarious here.  If we're to meet
our goal of autonomy by the deadline, we can't afford to be indebted even
more!"
 
	"We have no choice," intoned the governor.  "We must do everything
in our power to preserve the colony." A silence fell over the table.  The
governor had already made enemies in his cabinet, and everyone knew who they
were.  Now, at a time where unity was called for above all else, he couldn't
afford petty arguments.  "Moving on, I've appointed Sailors America and
Orion as head of military forces.  I'm sure you have no objections?" They
nodded; it was an obvious choice.  "Also, we're going to attempt to boot
Antares."
 
	The undersecretary of science, technology, research, and 
development perked up at this.  "Restarting Antares?" she exclaimed.  
"But that wasn't scheduled for another two years!  The maintenance team 
isn't to arrive for at least a year-" 
 
	"Already taken care of.  Students from the university's computer
science department will be in charge-"
 
	"Children!"  Defense was furious.  "We're entrusting the most
powerful computer in light-years to CHILDREN?"
 
	"Over a thousand years the defense of Earth was entrusted to five 
*children*, as you say.  I think Antares will be safe in the hands of some
graduate students."
 
	Defense quietly fumed, more upset at Sailor Orion and Sailor
America's uncontested coup d'etat than the fate of the planet's
non-operational supercomputer.  The AI had been transplanted to a cave
beneath the northern Nagano mountain chain just five months before, and
since then efforts had been slowly underway to construct cooling systems and
put the pieces of Antares together.  That stage of reconstruction wasn't to
be completed for several more months.  Haste made waste, and Antares's
capabilities were something they could ill afford to squander.
 
	"Ah," said the governor, "one more thing.  Super Sailor America is
to be considered as superior in rank to Sailor Orion until further notice. 
That's all."
 
*** 
 
	"Rewind to time index 09:23:55, and replay at half speed." 
 
	"Yes, sir." 
 
	In a conference room on the fourth floor of the main House of
Parliament, the military leaders of Hinansho pored over all the data they
could, trying to find out as much as possible about what had happened the
previous day.
 
	Lieutenant Miyako Nishimura, chief of intelligence, rubbed her brown 
eyes and once again looked bleary-eyed at the screen.  It showed the 
absolute blackness of space, with a slight sliver of white denoting the 
star Nozumi at the extreme right edge of the picture.  In a corner, 
small yellow digits indicated the time the picture had been taken: 
9:23:55 Second Nagano Standard Time.

	The clock ticked on, each second taking twice as long as usual.  
Nothing happened, and then: static. 
 
	Miyako blinked at the sudden brightness.  "Run that through again,
please?  Reduce speed by, I dunno, eighty percent, starting from one second
before signal was lost."
 
	"Aye." 
 
	It was a painstaking process; normally the job would be shifted to 
an AI which could run through all the tedious work of looking at and 
deciphering patterns in the small, grainy videos.  The only problem was 
that Antares was still in mothballs.  Until he was up and running, they 
would have to do it the hard way, with older and slower computers. 
 
	The picture advanced frame by frame.  Even at that low speed, it
took the assembled group of twenty men and women by surprise when a golden
blur raced up from the bottom of the screen and quickly covered it.  The
picture turned unbearably white, and then there was the static.  Miyako
checked the clock; the destruction of the satellite on which the camera had
been mounted took less than a tenth of a second.
 
	"I think we can agree that it was a deliberate weapons attack." 
 
	"Yes," echoed a voice in the crowd.  "Laser, maybe?" 
 
	"A laser wouldn't have been visible.  Must have been a particle
beam." It was a moot point, seeing as how x-ray lasers had been in use for
about a hundred years, but bore repeating.

	"I'm leaning towards magic."  That raised a few eyebrows, but no
further comment.
 
	"No nukes, though.  They want this clean." 
 
	"Which means they're a lot like us," mused a high-pitched woman's
voice.  The general atmosphere was one of disorder, as usual, with random
people shouting out suggestions.  Miyako preferred it that way;
brainstorming lead to lots of off-the-wall ideas that wouldn't normally be
accepted.
 
	"Negotiation?" 
 
	"Might work, but we'd have to have a translator-" 
 
	"-which means an AI-" 
 
	"-which means booting Antares," finished Miyako.  "I've already
asked that the activation sequence begin as soon as possible, hopefully
they'll listen to me."
 
	Another voice spoke up.  "How many ships do we estimate?" 
 
	"Six.  Ground observers are waiting for nightfall to get a more
accurate count.  We assume the ships will be made of some sort of highly
reflective material that will reflect the light of the sun . . . at least
our ships are that way, and for sound reason." Miyako ran a hand through her
thinning hair and sighed.  Her specialty was ground defense, but as the
world had learned in 3035, there could be no real defense against space.
 
 
*** 
 
	In a hospital room eight blocks north, a nurse popped into room 357
to clear away the breakfast tray, and found Jennifer Sakachi fast asleep. 
"Poor dear," the nurse murmured to herself, doing her best to quietly take
care of the plates.  "Been through so much."
 
	Unnoticing, Jen lived in the past. 
 
+++ 
 
	It's a beautiful summer day.  About thirty degrees centigrade, with
a few puffy white clouds scudding across the sky.
 
	I'm laying on a grassy hill.  I know it's grassy because I can feel
it, can feel the cool blades against my body.  It's a wonderful feeling,
actually.  All I can say is that my sense of touch as a senshi is completely
different from my sense of touch as a regular person, even in my normal
form.
 
	I look out over the landscape.  To my back are some more hills, and
then the mountains.  Before me the hills roll down to the Sea of Japan.  Way
before they reach that point, however, my eyes light upon a small cottage,
the cottage where Eileen and I are living right now.
 
	Two weeks ago, during this summer of 3033, the Palace was very
nearly taken over.  I happened to be at the palace at the time, and was
caught up in events.  I suppose things really got bad when I was shot in the
back.  Literally.
 
	Now, I've been a senshi for about five years.  In those years I've 
been in more dangerous and tight situation than I care to remember.  Yet 
it wasn't until that one moment in a hallway of the Crystal Palace that 
I really and truly looked death in the eye. 
 
	But that was another time.  Eileen's coming over now.  She looks
very nice, as always, in her short white shorts and sleeveless red shirt. 
Her hair is tied back in a ponytail.  She's been complaining that her hair
sticks to her face when she sweats, and so she's been trying to get it out
of the way.  Personally, I think she looks a lot better with it loose, but
who knows?  Perhaps it will grow on me.
 
	"Hi, Jen." 
 
	"Hi yourself, Eileen." 
 
	"Feeling any better?"  She sits down beside me and runs her hand
through my hair, smoothing out the tangles that have been put there by the
wind.  I love it.  I love her.
 
	"I'm feeling better."  And it's true.  Every moment longer with
Eileen seems to make life better.
 
	"Jen?" 
 
	"Yes?" 
 
	"That week when we were both acting like assholes to each other,
just where were you?"
 
	Damn.  I take a deep breath.  "I was at my parent's place." 
 
	"I understand."  And that's all.  No accusations, no guilt trips.  I
can tell she's still a little hurt over it, though.  She turns away slightly
and leans back on her arms, looking out at the scenery.  A couple blades of
grass fall from her shirt.  Funny, it doesn't smell like it's freshly mown.
 
	"You're mad, aren't you." 
 
	"A little."  She's being honest.  I like that.  "But then 
again . . . like I said, we were both being pretty awful to each other." 
 
	"Yeah." 
 
	It was quiet for a bit.  It's these quiet moments that frighten me
right now.  I don't like the reminders.
 
*** 
 
	Noon.  Lunch time.  Eileen's taken some sandwiches and stuff from
the little cottage that we have, and we're sitting under the bright sun
having a picnic lunch.  I bite into a sandwich.
 
	"Tasty." 
 
	"Thanks," she says, accepting my compliment.  Neither of us is
particularly good at cooking, but what we make is edible if nothing else.
 
	I savor the taste of the cheddar and ham and snuggle next to her. 
"Any plans for the rest of the afternoon?"
 
	She turns to me from her sandwich.  She'd only been nibbling at it
before.  "Not really.  I have some reading to do, but it can wait."
 
	"Reading about Seiza?" 
 
	"Yep." 
 
	I can't take the silence anymore.  "What are you thinking about?" 
 
	"Hm?"  It's like she's in a daze. 
 
	"Right now, Eileen," I say, nudging her right shoulder a bit. 
"What's on your mind?"
 
	"Mars."  I look at her blankly.  "Sailor Mars.  I read her report on
what happened, so I was wondering.  Just why did you do it?"
 
	Oh.  "I don't know." 
 
	"Well you nearly killed yourself for her, you damn well *should*
know!" But the expression on her face tells me that she's more frightened
over what could have been than what actually was.  I don't take offense.
 
	It's a good question, though.  Just why did I take the bullet, so to
speak?  It's not as if Mars is a close personal friend or anything, or even
an acquaintance.  She's just a planet senshi who Eileen can't seem to stand. 
Probably as close to Serenity as any of the planet senshi could be, with the
possible exception of Mercury.  Was it that reason that I defended her?  So
Serenity wouldn't have to bear the pain of losing one of her closest
friends?
 
	Or was it something different?  Was it that I couldn't allow a
fellow senshi to die, that somehow the fact that both she and I work towards
a common goal obligated me to put my life on the line for her, just as she
later did for me?
 
	. . . just as Eileen did for me . . . ? 
 
	I cock my head to one side, thinking, while Eileen watches.  Then, a
gust of wind picks up, ruffling my hair.  It also blows away some of the
napkins.  Quickly admonishing me not to get up, she stands and runs after
them.  After all, this place was rather clean before we got here, and it's
only proper that it stay that way, even if the napkins are completely
biodegradable.  I idly watch her run.  I'm no expert on fitness, but somehow
I could tell that she isn't a natural runner.  Senshi training may have
improved her a bit, but she'll never be a track star.
 
	As I watch her ponytail bounce, it occurs to me just how different
she is from Mars.  Where Sailor Mars is the essence of Japan: black hair,
traditionally-minded, and a Shinto priestess, or at least she used to be; I
suppose she still is, Eileen is the essence of North America: brown hair,
progressive to the point of upsetting the applecart, to use one of her cute
expressions, and deals with the press, perhaps the one thing that an
American should be good at.  They invented the idea of a rabid media, after
all . . . and invented all sorts of other things, things that lead to the
destruction of my home and my country.
 
	And yet, when the opportunity presented itself, I unflinchingly
tried to save Mars's life at all costs.  Would I have done the same for
Eileen?  Undoubtedly.  But why for Mars, who at times seems to dislike
Eileen as much as Eileen dislikes her?
 
	Eileen slowly walks back, panting and clutching the napkins.  They'd
gone a bit further than she'd expected, and now a thin sheen of sweat covers
her.  "Well, that was a nice jog."
 
	"Yes," I say absently, still mulling over my previous thoughts. 
 
	"You'll have to get better, Jennifer," she says confidently.  "We
can't have you gaining weight while you're sitting around.  You'd lose your
girlish figure," she adds playfully, stooping down and giving me a slight
pinch in the side.
 
	"You'd still like me then, wouldn't you?" I ask, playing along. 
 
	"Of course," she says, giving me a hug.  Hugs are perhaps the most
underrated thing one person can do for another.  Just the reassurance of
physical contact, knowing that you're wanted, is worth almost anything else
in the world.  I hug her back, tightly.
 
	"I love you." 
 
	"Me too." 
 
*** 
 
	It's nighttime.  Eileen and I are cuddled together on the two-seat
couch of the cabin, watching some movie we both lost interest in ages ago. 
I lie back, the back of my head resting in her lap, and the sensitive spot
of my back resting on a pillow.  I turn my head slightly from the
uninteresting picture on the screen and on the far more interesting picture
of Eileen, her face framed slightly by a few strands of hair: her ponytail
has come a bit loose.
 
	As the only light in the room is coming from the screen, Eileen's
face flickers in and out of view as the scenes change.  Gradually, she
notices me as I gaze up at her, and absently stokes my head with her hand,
almost like a kitten.  It's not an unpleasant sensation at all, I realize. 
Feeling wanted never is.
 
	She smiles.  "You're so beautiful, you know that?" 
 
	"Only when you say it," I say, snuggling closer to her and almost
sighing with contentment.
 
	Eileen continues to stroke my head, and a wry smile appears on her 
face.  "Yeah." 
 
	The screen blanks out: it's a dramatic scene change, probably.  Then
it brightens again.
 
	"Eileen?" 
 
	"Hm?" 
 
	"I think I know why I saved Sailor Mars."  She said nothing, using
her eyes to tell me to go on.  "You don't like her too much, do you?"
 
	She draws the left side of her mouth up a bit in a slantwise smile. 
"How'd you guess?"
 
	"A hunch."  I snuggle into her lap a bit more and relish the warmth
that I find there.  I could stay there forever, but . . . .  "Anyway, I was
thinking.  You and Mars are so different in so many ways . . . but you're
both in control of fire."
 
	"If you want to call it control," she says . . . more like purrs,
actually, probably from the way I'm resting on her.  "I wasn't too skilled
at what I do then . . . not even now, really."
 
	"I know," I reply.  "I'm always getting lectures from Venus on how I
should practice more.  But . . . when I look at her, it reminds me a bit of
you."

	"Really?"

	"Well, not a lot.  Little things, like that one time you wore your
hair down and just came out of the shower, or when you just blow up at some
reporter."

	"I'd thought I was getting better about that," she squeaked.

	I reach up a hand to caress her cheek.  "You are, trust me."  A
sharp pang of regret stabs through my heart at the word trust, but it's gone
just as quickly.  "But that's just one of the things that reminds me of her. 
Remember years ago back at the School, first day, opening assembly?"

	"Yeah?"

	"Remember how mad Mars was when she left?"

	She laughs aloud at the memory.  "Mad?  I think if we hadn't been
students there she would have roasted us.  She still didn't like us
afterwards; remember that time in the elevator in '30?"

	"She looked ready to kill then, too."

	"Not kill, just maim," Eileen jokes.  "But why would-"

	"It reminds me of you because you're such opposites.  You're the
brash loud American-"

	"I'm only loud when you make me c-"

	"-and she's the traditional Japanese shrine maiden.  She still
attends ceremonies, you know, although they aren't publicized."

	"How do you know?"

	"I was invited to one."  That shuts her up, even though it isn't my
intent.  Time to explain.  "It was a few months ago, while you were with Her
Highness on that trip to Kyushu.  Surprised the heck out of me: I just wake
up one morning and there's an invitation to the opening of a shrine a few
klicks northeast.

	"I didn't completely understand what went on there; my parents
weren't very religious.  But seeing Mars in her shrine attire . . . I could
never see you like that, you'd never be a minister.  And yet, you'd be a
perfect minister too . . . does that make sense?"

	I look up at her eyes, and I see that they're clouded over with
confusion.  But she shakes the fog away and smiles.  "I think I do," she
says.  "You see a bit of Mars in me, and so a bit of me in Mars, right?"

	"I guess so . . . ."  I'm not terribly certain, but as she reaches
down and embraces me tightly, I decide that the only certainty I need is her
warmth and her love.

+++

	Jen opened her eyes slowly, still imagining Eileen's warm body. 
Blinking, a crestfallen expression came across her face as she saw she was
still in a room in Nagano General Hospital, sitting next to the comatose
Sailor America.  "Reality bites," she whispered, reaching over and squeezing
Eileen's unresponsive left hand.  "Get better soon, Eileen.  I love you."
She stood and walked out the door.