ISLAND LIFE
Chapter 10: "Who is Haruka Tenoh?"
By Bill K.
Luna entered the apartment Minako shared with Toshihiro. She could hear Artemis typing on his computer. Cautiously she looked around to see if Toshihiro was home. Artemis had recently told her that Minako had finally gotten around to telling her significant other about him, and she wasn't sure how he'd feel about guests. Fortunately he seemed to be out. Heading for the bedroom, she found the white cat staring intently at his screen.
"What is it, Artemis?" she asked.
"I've got a huge meteor in a synchronous orbit with the moon positioned so it can't be observed by Earth-based telescopes," Artemis replied.
"That would be quite the random occurrence," Luna remarked. "Quite the million to one shot of a meteor falling just so in order to be snatched by the moon's gravity and placed in orbit."
"Which is more evidence that it's just disguised as a meteor," Artemis said. "I've already detected the propulsion system."
"A ship?" Luna asked. "Our alien visitors?"
"Right on both counts."
"Do they mean us ill?"
"Don't know yet, but they've detached a smaller meteor that's headed for Earth. I plotted the trajectory and sent the girls out to meet it. If it's another rock full of bacteria, they can take care of it before anyone else gets hurt. If it's more, then they should be there to greet them - - or stop them."
"Wise move," Luna nodded. "Have you been able to glean anything from the ship, if that's indeed what it is?"
"Nope. It's got some pretty sophisticated sensor shielding," Artemis scowled. "I'd like to know what we're up against, if anything. I suppose knowing what they plan is too much to ask for."
"Keep trying," Luna said. She leaned in and rubbed her chin against his. "Perseverance does have its rewards."
"That felt nice," leered Artemis. "Any chance of seconds?"
"Mind on your work," admonished Luna with a wry grin. She sat down as Artemis began typing again. "Do you suppose the outers have sensed this, too?"
"Wouldn't doubt it, not that they'll probably do much," Artemis said absently. "Michiru's still laid up, which means you won't be able to pry Haruka away from her side with tank support."
Junko glanced at the clock on the wall. Haruka had been gone several hours. The nurses at the Isolation Ward station had changed with the change of shift. Michiru was asleep now. She'd drifted in and out of consciousness several times, but now seemed to be sleeping - -somewhat peacefully.
And Haruka had been gone several hours now. That thought kept repeating in the young girl's brain no matter how much she tried to dispel or avoid it. The woman Haruka loved as deeply as life itself, deeper than anyone Junko had ever witnessed love another person before, was dying, and Haruka had left. They were like a storybook couple - - except for the genders - - and Haruka had left. Why, the teen wondered. What could be so important that it could rip her sister away from the side of her love in her time of need?
"Haruka," Junko heard Michiru say.
She glanced over at the woman. Michiru was restless, but still asleep.
"Haruka?" Michiru called out again.
Her voice was a soft, raspy whisper, barely audible. Only Junko was close enough to hear it. She concentrated on the face, the same face she remembered seeing on television and magazines, CD covers and posters. The eyes were still closed, but the features were pinched with emotion. Was she asleep?
"Maybe she's delirious," Junko wondered aloud. She turned to the nurse's station. "Um, Nurse? Could you check on Kaioh-San, please? I-I think she might be delirious."
"Yes, Ma'am, we know," the nurse replied. "It's a side-effect of the medication she's receiving."
"Well, can't you do something?"
"We've done all that we dare do, Ma'am," the nurse told her. "We can't discontinue the medicine she's receiving. That would do more harm than the delirium."
A helpless shudder passed through Junko. At sixteen, death had been a foreign concept to her. Now she'd had two brushes with it in a single week. It made her formerly secure place in this world feel no longer that secure. She glanced back at Michiru. The woman was squirming weakly in her bed, like she was trying to get away from something and get to something secure.
Haruka, probably. Feeling her eyes moisten, Junko leaned her head against the glass.
Selfishly Junko had wanted to talk to Michiru. She'd wanted to be able to say she'd talked to someone famous. But she also wanted to probe her about Haruka. For all that she had found out so far, Haruka Tenoh still remained a mystery to Junko. She felt a rapport with the woman fourteen years her senior, and yet it was a tenuous bond, a bond she wanted to strengthen and Haruka, possibly, didn't. And she wanted to know why. And Michiru might know, for she was probably the closest person on this planet to the mysterious Haruka Tenoh.
And if she died, Junko might never know.
"Haruka?" Michiru said again. It almost sounded like a little girl calling for her parents.
"Where are you, Haruka?" Junko wondered aloud. "You should be by her side, not me!"
But she wouldn't leave. Junko had vowed to stay and she would. The girl believed in living up to her commitments. It wasn't a trait taught to her, though her parents greatly admired it in her. It was a trait Junko had seen in others and felt the resonance when she saw it. So she imitated the trait whenever she could until it became her trait. She would wait by Michiru's side until Haruka returned, no matter what her parents might say. And maybe, when Haruka and Michiru were reunited, she might be able to glimpse one more clue into the mystery that was Haruka . . .
"I know, Haruka," Michiru mumbled, her face a grimace of anguish. "I know the world needs Sailor Uranus." She took a labored breath. "But I need you."
Junko stared. The mystery that was Haruka Tenoh just got a whole lot deeper.
The blue Fiat sports car sped along the highway headed out of Tokyo proper on a westerly course. Setsuna Meioh watched the scenery pass by the car on the left. Concerned, she glanced over at her partner, Haruka Tenoh. She could see Haruka was distracted, worrying over Michiru. That was natural. She didn't worry about Haruka's driving, for even distracted and worrying Haruka was still a better driver than she was - - probably better than anyone currently on the road. Though no destination had been exchanged between them, Setsuna knew Haruka knew where she was going, just as Setsuna knew by the sixth sense that was their weapon as outer senshi.
"What do you imagine we shall encounter?" Setsuna asked, probing lightly.
"Who knows," mumbled Haruka, her manner clipped and withdrawn in typical Haruka fashion.
"Do you think the aliens mean us harm?"
"Hope not," Haruka said, her eyes locked ahead of her. "I'd rather not have a prolonged battle. But one of theirs did die, so it wouldn't surprise me if they did."
Setsuna examined Haruka's face for the words the woman had left unsaid.
"I am sorry you had to leave Michiru's side," Setsuna ventured.
"Comes with the job," Haruka mumbled. "Michiru knows that. She knows it better than I do."
Setsuna's gaze dropped. "That girl that was with you in the hospital. She is related to you?"
Haruka glanced at her.
"The resemblance is quite striking," Setsuna explained.
"Junko," Haruka replied, returning to the road ahead of her. "The sister I never knew I had. She's not a bad kid - - in spite of who's raising her."
"Will you endeavor to establish a relationship with her?"
Haruka scowled. "I don't make plans that far ahead. Her parents don't think it's a good idea and I don't feel like butting heads with them again."
"A loss for you both," Setsuna replied.
"More my loss than hers."
Setsuna didn't reply. Instead, she turned and looked up into the sky. Haruka was already looking out of the corner of her eye. Over the tops of the plum trees, the sky was dark blue with dusk and dotted with puffy white clouds made gray by the reduced light. It had been the perfect day for the plum blossoms to bloom. Out of the northwest, a dot appeared in the sky. It grew larger as the two women gazed up at it. Within moments, the object grew to the point where they could see it was a meteor. The space debris grew larger, looming over the plum grove. Haruka and Setsuna raced along the road as the looming meteor grew closer and larger, closer and larger.
But the meteor didn't impact with the plum grove. When it was directly over the grove, the huge rock, which they could see was roughly seven meters across, passed above them. They could see that it was propelled by something other than the pull of Earth's gravity and moved on its own. The meteor, still smoldering red from its entry through Earth's atmosphere, streaked over their heads and continued on in a southeasterly direction. Haruka gunned the motor on the Fiat and sped in pursuit.
"What is it?" Mercury mused to herself in frustration as she stared at her computer screen. "What am I missing?"
And once more she felt the weight of expectations upon her shoulders. Lives were at stake, chief among them a dear friend. As she worked, Mercury's mind was haunted with visions of Michiru laying in her hospital bed, rasping for breath. She could see the other senshi staring at her expectantly, hopefully, Haruka most of all. She was, after all, the genius and she always came up with a miracle - - well, almost always.
Mixed in were memories of her mother, sternly examining her homework or her report card, never satisfied, always expecting more from her no matter how much she achieved. And there were the educators, always expecting the world from her just because her IQ was 300, never understanding when she let her concentration slip because she might have human emotions like fatigue or lust or boredom.
And, haunting her still, was the memory of Ryo Urawa's hand going lifeless as she held it.
"That's remarkable," Mercury heard someone say. She turned with a start and found an older doctor looking over her shoulder. He glanced at her and offered a timid smile. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."
"It's quite all right," Mercury sighed. She recognized him now as Dr. Nagashi, Michiru's attending physician from the Isolation Ward. "What's the latest on Kaioh-San and the others?"
"We had one more die," Nagashi reported. Mercury's spirits fell. "Kaioh-San is holding on. She's a remarkable woman - - a lot stronger than I expected her to be. But the sooner we can find a remedy to this infection, the less permanent damage there will be."
"Agreed," Mercury nodded and returned to her screen.
"Do you have medical training?" Nagashi asked.
"Why?" Mercury asked absently, concentrating on the formula before her.
"This is," Nagashi stammered, staring at the screen, "I've never seen micro-biology this advanced! You've got an antibiotic formula here that's as radical as anything I've ever encountered! Nobody has even begun to crack this new strain of bacteria and you've already got an antidote!"
"An antidote that's as deadly to the human host as it is to the bacterium," Mercury replied. "In this form it isn't much use to anyone."
"Don't say that," the elder doctor told her. "You've made a tremendous accomplishment here, young lady. It would have taken months, maybe years to achieve this amount of progress. Think of how much of a leg up you've given to medical research."
"I'm sure that will be little comfort to Haruka," Mercury said as she stared at the screen. Almost to herself, she said, "What can I do to make this less toxic?"
Dr. Nagashi peered over her shoulder. "I assume Haruka is the tall woman haunting the Iso Ward? Yes, I doubt she'll take Kaioh-San's death well from what I've observed. Still, as tragic as that is, you mustn't blame yourself. You're doing all you can."
Mercury felt her eyes water. She was grateful for the words, even though they would be of little help to her if Michiru did die like Ryo had.
"Have you considered diluting the potency of the formula by fifty percent?" Nagashi asked her.
"Diluted?" Mercury asked. "That would reduce the compound's effectiveness."
"Yes," the old doctor nodded patiently. "But as it is now you're trying to knock out the infection in one blow. Suppose you only try to weaken the infection to the point where the body's natural defenses can aid the antibiotic in eradicating the infection."
Mercury stared at the screen.
"Recovery will take longer, but the toxicity will be reduced to more acceptable levels," Nagashi explained. "You may lose one or more of the weaker patients, but you'll save the stronger ones."
Furiously Mercury began typing on her computer. The results that came up filled her with elation.
"Yes!" Mercury exclaimed. "Yes, that could work! Why didn't I see it?"
"Perhaps you were too close to the problem," Dr. Nagashi offered. "Perhaps you were trying too hard. I know death is hard to accept sometimes. It's even harder for us doctors. Losing a patient can cause you to question your ability. It's a great amount of pressure to deal with - - though I'm sure a renowned hero like yourself knows about performing under pressure."
Mercury hit a key and a nearby printer came to life.
"This formula I'm printing should work," Mercury told him. "I know it isn't tested beyond computer simulation . . ."
"But there's hardly time for that," Dr. Nagashi nodded. "They're dying anyway. How much worse can we make it? Just don't mention it to the hospital's lawyers."
Dr. Nagashi picked up the formula and was about to leave. But his hand was captured by a pair of white gloves. He looked back at the famous Sailor Mercury.
"Thank you, Doctor," Mercury said earnestly. "What you said really meant a lot to me."
"A small price in exchange for this," he shrugged, waving the formula. With that, he turned and hurried out. Mercury's gaze followed him.
"Please work," she whispered.
Minako's red car careened down a country road above the speed limit. That was hardly an unusual sight, as Minako was known to favor high speeds - - when her license wasn't under suspension. But this time there was a great deal more skill to the car's maneuvers than Minako had ever demonstrated. It was because Usagi, in her race car driver disguise, was still behind the wheel.
"Wow, you're really handling this road, Usagi," Minako remarked from the back seat. "You're really good at this in this disguise."
"Haruka's better," Usagi shrugged.
"How would you know?" Rei asked, an eyebrow arched.
"We go driving a lot," Usagi said innocently.
"Oh really?" Minako remarked with a cheshire grin.
"Get your mind out of the gutter!" huffed Usagi. "Haruka's just being nice!"
"OH, I'M SURE!" Rei and Minako said in unison, each woman glancing at the other with malicious glee.
"Oh, shut up!" Usagi growled. "You two are such a pair of old gossips!"
"Boy, that's the pot calling the kettle black," Rei grinned.
"STOP PICKING ON ME!" Usagi bellowed. The other two only laughed.
The laughter was muted, though, when the whine of something streaking through the air came directly over the car. The backwash threatened to send the car onto the berm and Usagi struggled to keep it on the road. Rei rolled down the window and stuck her head out.
"That was a meteor!" Rei gasped. "Do you suppose it's the one Artemis warned us about?"
"How many meteors are there flying over the Japanese countryside?" Minako replied. "Can you see where its headed?"
"It banked off to the left," Rei reported.
"That's going to take it near the impact crater," Minako realized. "Probably looking for the first meteor ship."
Without any impetus from anyone else, Usagi gunned the car forward. They traveled until there was no more road to follow. Usagi pulled onto the berm and stopped. The three women got out.
"Sun's almost down," Rei said, glancing at the sky.
"I can find my way in the dark," Minako remarked, then glanced at Usagi for a final decision.
Usagi nodded. Three henshin sticks came out. And three sailor senshi ventured into the darkening brush adjacent to the fenced-in land of a local farm.
Continued in Chapter 11