Ascension

Six: Convergences

-mentalyoga-

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews that have kept me motivated to keep coming back to this story. It's summer now, and I've got some big plans for forthcoming chapters. Already working on the next chapter, in fact! Keep the reviews coming, if you please. Also, (I posted this in my profile, as well) I'm interested in having a beta reader for this story and others in the works. And I would love to offer up my services as a beta reader, too, if anyone is interested. Enjoy the story!

"Citizens of Tokyo! The time has come to stand up in the face of hardship, to defend all that you believe in!"

Cheers resounded. It was an acceptance speech in the dead center of Tokyo, mid-day, with the sun glinting viciously off the reflective panes of skyrisers. Saito Noriko, the new Chairwoman of the New Tokyo Council, balanced precariously on a haphazardly-built wooden platform. Her greasy locks were tugged tight against her head, pulling already hard eyebrows into pinpoints that left her looking as though a fetid stench permanently invaded her nostrils. Heels clunked on the thin boards beneath her (she had never really learned how to walk in heels), and chunky sausage arms flailed around under the cover of thick gray polyester sleeves.

Minako snaked carefully through the crowd, eager to see the frog's pocked face closer up.

This was one of her first outings since the end of her 'relationship.' Tatsuo had finally pushed her to her limit; that he humiliated her, beat her, was enough. But to try and—she didn't want to relive it. She had finally broken, declared that if he laid a hand on her again, he would find himself missing one. And then she had packed a few things in a suitcase of his and fled home. Sure, her mother's yells weren't much improvement on Tatsuo's, but it was a start. Aino Cho and Aino Hisao had at first been overjoyed to see her, but with them, she kept silent about that previous living situation. Tatsuo had, shockingly, been just as silent since her departure—no calls, no texts, no appearances on her doorstep or attacks from beneath her car. It seemed too perfect, but Minako was never one to second-guess good fortune.

There. She had reached the front of the crowd. Saito was even more repulsive up close, she noted resolutely. And then she began to listen.

"Truth is not always the lightest burden to bear, friends, but I intend to take up that saddle and help all denizens of this New Tokyo with theirs!" Another smattering of applause and high-pitched whistles.

"Settle down, for a moment. Now, my first line of business requires immediate attention, as inopportune as it may be."

Several microphones were shoved closer to her podium. Reporters had come like flies to shit in the melee, positively bursting with inquiries and accusations. But strangely, the crowd was beginning to settle into more comfortable stances, more malleable frames of mind. Questions lingered in the air, but everyone was willing to hear their new chairwoman out. If she didn't know any better, Minako would say there was something else in the air; but she knew, too, that not everything could be attributed to some invisible evil hiding in the bushes or the alleys or the atmosphere. Frankly, she had come to learn that most people liked to be led around by the hand, told what to do with their insignificant lives.

Her attention was drawn back to Saito. "I take it everyone is acquainted with those identified as the Sailor Senshi?" The question was a rhetorical one. "Effective immediately, all individuals identified as or allies of the Senshi are enemies of the state."

This remark woke many from their collective reverie. Gasps filtered through the quiet, threatening to break in a flood of voice.

Minako's gasp was lost among the rustling of the crowd. But just as quickly as the shock hit her, the strategist in the Inner Senshi's commander began to analyze, plan, build fury. She was almost certain now that these youma attacks hadn't been random or isolated—the monsters were, in some twisted sense, wards of the state. The government had been planning this all along! There was no reason for them to come out against the senshi (enemies of the state! The audacity of such a claim!), unless they had been planning to do so for some time. A preventative measure? Minako didn't know her future history very well, but perhaps information about the rise of Crystal Tokyo had somehow leaked backwards? Those in power never wish to relinquish it, and to know that the senshi under their very noses—helping the government in their war on crime, no less—would eventually reign supreme certainly didn't present a pleasant outcome for the governmental powers that be. Minako's mind continued to race. Suddenly, she regretted missing all those meetings with the others; how much more they might know already! No matter. She would talk to them as soon as she was finished here.

"I understand your confusion, friends, but reliable information from a number of sources has alerted my colleagues and me to a larger concern: the Senshi intend to rebel against the government in the hopes to commandeering it for themselves. These are violent insurgents, as many who have kept up with the local news well know. They don't care who is put in danger, criminals and innocents alike. The senshi are homegrown terrorists, my people, and must be treated for all intents and purposes as such. I told you at the beginning of my speech that I intend to carry the weight of the truth, and now I give it to you in full. From this day forth, anyone discovered to be aiding the insurgents will likewise be considered enemies of the state, awarded the most stringent punishments we deem appropriate at present. I rest assured that you all understand I must take any and all measures to protect the good people of this city. I will now conduct a short question and answer period. Please keep things succinct, and be aware in advance that some information must remain classified."

She wore a self-satisfied smile, but Minako was reminded again of a slimy frog licking its lips after slurping up a particularly juicy fly. Thousands of hands shot up, but the press had first dibs on the newly-elected chairwoman.

"Ms. Saito!" shouted one slightly anorexic-looking woman with caked-on foundation and rouge all wrong for her skin tone, "the senshi have always been known as benevolent forces in the city. Sort of…vigilante superheroes for the common man. How do you respond to this history of mutuality between Tokyo and the senshi?"

Saito responded without hesitation. "You used a choice word, Ms…" she ignored the woman's offer of her name, "when you said 'vigilantes.' Vigilantes may have proactive intentions, but at the very core, they are working outside the law for motives beyond our full understanding. If we agreed with all the choices the senshi have made in the past, we would have offered them positions. Moreover, Ms. –, if we were to condone the actions of such vigilantes, we would be promoting by proxy a sort of anarchy in the city. Wouldn't you agree with that?" Again, rhetorical.

"Chairwoman!" another man cried, "Aren't you worried that the government might not—doesn't have—the power to declare this war on the senshi?"

"I stand before you assured that I and my colleagues can back up any of our barks with equally hefty bites."

Minako wasn't able to hold her tongue any longer. "Saito!" Saito Noriko's reptilian eyes whipped around to appraise Minako's own earnest cerulean ones. "If it's the youma causing trouble for the people of Tokyo, why aren't you making them the number one priority? Instead, you're waging a battle against the very people helping you keep them under control. There's some seriously shady shit behind this development that you aren't telling all your 'friends' here."

"And what did you say your name was, miss?"

"I didn't," Minako retorted, the burn bubbling up within her once more. "And I don't intend to. I'm not going to offer myself up to your damn blacklist. If you can't answer the question in front of everyone here, I can only imagine what else is being kept 'classified' for now."

With that, she swerved around, her golden locks flying in the pull of the breeze, and worked her way back through the crowd, which was now less hesitant to give voice to their doubts and fears, gasps rumbling up and breaking into shouts, unanswered questions. It would be a riot soon enough if left unchecked, but Saito Noriko's gaze was trained carefully on the fiery blonde trying to lose herself in the mass of people; the girl would not be lost. She motioned to a guard behind her with a casual flick of her wrist; he, in turn, brought a communicator to his mouth and gave order to the lackies interspersed throughout the people.

Minako was rusty, but she was no idiot. She saw the men in uniforms looking more alert, saw them begin to shove people aside, step on toes to get closer to her. Well, she had some magic of her own at hand. It was something Rei had taught her—not going invisible entirely, but using a sort of mental shield to make yourself less…noticeable. Minako hadn't practiced in some time now; after all, she was constantly seeking attention at auditions, on the streets. But she found it somewhat easier than expected; her mind drew inward and she looked beyond her center of vision, the way you might look at one of those dotted-image puzzles. Where you can only see the picture by losing focus. Oddly enough it was Tatsuo's face that rose up in the haze. And so the crowd melted away, as though she herself was falling into something beyond them. No one saw the shimmer, but she felt it cover her. If people paid her any mind, they could see her, but they were more concerned now with the lizard on the stage. The lackies weren't entirely deceived, of course, but a little disoriented for a few moments.

In her peripheral, she noticed one put a hand to his hip. They were armed? This was ludicrous. She quickened her pace.

The end of the crowd was only yards away, and then she could slip sideways into an alley and launch into a run. She heard his steps behind her, quickening with her own. She moved faster.

The agent behind pulled his gun from the holster at his side and lifted it. The crowd broke into panic; people became violent, pushing their neighbors to the side and to the ground in order to clear the path in front of them. A few screams broke out, but she couldn't look back. She thought she heard the crunch of bone somewhere behind—was some poor child stomped out underfoot, no better than a cigarette or an ant? She didn't have time to think about others anymore, because once everyone had cleared the path, she was right within his line of view.

Just a few more feet…she felt a smile tug at her lips…and…BAM. She slammed face first into one of the spectators…he looked oddly familiar.

"Umino!" Minako cried. Her shimmer dissipated, but no one was looking for anything but a safe way out by now. The agent with the gun was closing in.

"Come with me," he whispered, "No time to explain." He threw her forward into the closest alleyway.

Usagi was one of the few completely unaware of the big rally in Tokyo that blistering afternoon. In her hands were a couple of shopping bags, filled with various items quite foreign to her; in one, the basics: pacifiers, several bottles, diapers small enough to fit a newborn's bottom, and a breast pump (which had Usagi guffawing at an image of herself with udders strapped to her chest). The other had a few things for herself: five books on how to deal with being a terrified new mother, one called "The Thousand Most Popular Names for Your Little One!", and a jumbo chocolate bar. It wasn't her fault that they had candy right in front of the card-swipe at the bookstore counter!

All around her were hundreds of little ones, probably with popular, book-bought names and trembling mommies. Everywhere she looked, another pair of doe-eyes stared back, as though mocking her. As if they knew she would be a terrible parent. Even at the bookstore earlier, a tiny person hooked up to its mother's chest in some papoose-like sling watched knowingly as she deliberated with herself whether or not to throw the candy bar inconspicuously next to her pile of books.

"Expecting?" the papoose-bearing mother inquired with a wide grin.

"Um…" Usagi replied, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear, "…yes."

"How far along?" The woman bounced the baby up and down with her hip as she put the items from her cart onto the counter with a free hand.

"Just through the first trimester," came Usagi's absent reply. She was too busy watching the baby watching her, its brown eyes piercing through the confidence she had built up like an exoskeleton around her fragility.

"I bet you're so excited!" the woman squealed. The baby giggled along with its mother, but Usagi was almost certain she detected malice. She cut eyes at it, but the baby quickly turned its head and began to cry. The woman smiled apologetically.

Usagi took the receipt from the cashier and grabbed the bag with an anxious hand. "Sure," she mumbled and bounded out through the exit.

And now she couldn't escape them. Babies, babies, everywhere! From the storefront windows, mini-mannequins sported big-people clothing, woman-mannequins pushed empty strollers through their empty window world. And that was nothing compared to the smiling women with tiny people held back by leashes on harnesses, little hands and little steps curiously following the bigger ones beside them. Would she be adorned with those same strangely melancholy smiles, holding the reins of those same restrictive leashes in half a year?

A beep jolted her out of her musings. The comm-link. She hurried into an empty side street and turned her back to the passersby.

"What is it?" she demanded of the miniaturized-Ami in the communicator's vid-screen.

"Where have you been, Usagi-chan?!"

"Out shopping," she mumbled.

Ami's disappointment read through even the grainy image. "Makoto, Rei, and I were caught up in a youma attack. We narrowly avoided some serious injuries, Usagi. Mako tried to contact you multiple times."

The implication, of course, being that she had been too lazy or too distracted to answer. That she had failed her guardians. "Look. I'm sorry. I've been out in the city; I must not have heard it."

"Just get to the shrine, Usagi. The three of us are here with Michiru and Haruka. We're trying to get a hold of Minako now."

Usagi heaved a sigh and glanced behind her. A small child had escaped its mommy's strict grasp and stood at the brighter corner of the main street glaring back at her. Like it knew something she didn't. Had understood her private conversation.

"Yeah, Ami, I'm on my way."

"Ouch!" Rei shrieked, squinting her amethyst eyes shut against the flush of pain.

"I have to admit, I'm a bad nurse," Michiru smirked, pressing the peroxide-soaked cotton swab more gently against Rei's pale elbow.

"I thought we agreed we wouldn't take that outta the bedroom." Haruka winked at Ami, who felt an instantaneous blush spread across her cheeks. Michiru shot a look of disapproval at her lover.

"So would you mind going over this…evolution again?" Michiru didn't face Makoto as she said this, but the brunette was well aware of where the question was directed.

"Can't really explain it," came her reply, "I just felt a sort of…burning inside. I was floating maybe eight or nine feet above the ground—I had been falling, so at first I thought I hit the pavement—splat! (at this, Makoto slapped her palms together)—and just felt something trying to break free inside. And then my fuku morphed all on its own, I felt the attack gain force, and I set it loose." She looked down as she recounted the events of only an hour or so before; she had a lot of bravado, but in the presence of the Outers, she always felt a bit hesitant in choosing her words. Never knew when they might be twisted.

"So you didn't have control." This was not a question. Haruka's assertive growl ensured that much. But she wasn't angry; merely concerned.

"I didn't feel very in control."

"Did you know what form the attack would take?" Michiru's voice was quieter, more calculated. She continued tending to Rei's flesh wounds on the open floor beside the tea table. She ignored Rei's ceaseless wincing. There was no use in being timid with the girl; the wounds wouldn't go away on their own, even if she had had some accelerated healing capacity as a senshi.

"I knew it was boiling up, but I didn't know the words until they were passing through my lips. Sounded damn stupid at the time, but it was the most power I think I've ever harnessed." Makoto's phone beeped. A text from Akiyama. Heat choked her throat and she quickly hid her phone in the pocket of her purse.

"Hot date?" Haruka laughed. "No time, babe. So what you're getting at here is that you've stumbled into some kind of greater force, but have no way of keeping it restrained. Who's to say that something couldn't go wrong with it? That you might lose yourself and hit one of us instead of the youma?" Haruka's brow furrowed; the twinkle in her eye had vanished, and Makoto was reminded suddenly of the way the Outer Senshi had behaved before joining the greater team. Duty was everything; relationships and compassion were inconsequential.

"I'll learn."

The door swung open. Five pairs of eyes turned to meet the intruder.

"Sorry!" Usagi stumbled in and threw her shopping bags down in the corner. Slipping her shoes off, she joined them at the table. "Tell me everything."

"If you had answered your communicator," Rei fumed, "we wouldn't have to."

Usagi fumbled with her wedding ring, twisting it over and over again. "I said I was sorry. I don't know what else to tell you."

"We need to know that it won't happen again, Princess." Haruka said this with a slight hint of deference, but the matter was a serious one. She brushed her choppy bangs from her eye and stood up, her height commanding against the frame of the doorway. "Two of your guardians were injured. They could have used your help."

"Oh yeah?" Usagi burst. "Then where the hell were the rest of you? Where was Minako? Setsuna? You and Michiru? Who decided that I was the only one at fault here? There were three caught in that attack, and they could have used all of our help. I can't sit here and make any promises about my future on the battlefield. In case you haven't noticed," she put a palm to her protruding stomach, "I've got a pretty inconvenient bun in the oven. Who knows how much longer I'll be flailing about in front of these fucking…things!"

They were all taken aback. Usagi was the crier, the goof, the clutz. Fury was not a typical performance from the odango-adorned woman. Michiru's hand was frozen on Rei's calf; Makoto's mouth hung agape. Haruka leaned against the doorway, saying nothing, and Ami kept her eyes on the smooth surface of the low table.

"That's right," Usagi declared, "I've got shit going on, too. I'm tired of being looked to for every last detail, every time something goes wrong. I want to live my life, just like the rest of you. And I know that I can't, but I intend to try. Now, if I had heard the communicator—which I didn't—I would have answered the call, gone to help. So stop talking down to me. I'm not an idiot. I'm a grown woman like all of you, and I deserve a little respect around here."

The silence was thick as everyone avoided everyone else's eyes.

"Get it, girl!" Minako's laughter overran the room. But it wasn't Minako who entered; it was Sailor Venus. And she had someone dragging along behind her, attached (not unlike those kids on leashes) by her love-me chain. "Everyone needs a little respect!"

Her laughter broke the silence, but now all present sat curious about the boy in tow. The wiry brown hair, gargantuan glasses, nerdy posture—

"Umino!" came the consensus from several of the girls. Those who had gone to school with him, anyway.

"Turns out he's been sleeping with the enemy, so to speak, girls." Venus let her fuku dissipate, standing before them now as their easily recognizable, energetic blonde. She looked better than at their last meeting, as if she had gotten a few good nights' rest and a good, swift fire under her ass.

"Wait, wait," Umino protested, inching closer to the door. Haruka quickly blocked his exit. "Let me explain. And by the way," he turned to Minako, hands on hips, "This is not where you said you would be taking me!"

"Oops!" she shrugged, winking at the other girls.

"And you both better have a good explanation," Rei retorted. "Minako, do you know how absolutely stupid it was to bring him here? Especially if you claim he's been working for the youma!" She was sending a rather potent evil eye in Umino's direction by this point, ignoring Michiru's insistence that she stay seated.

"Not technically," Umino observed. "For Saito Noriko. I was just an underling in her campaign…I would take dictation, file things, kiss up to her…but for some reason she entrusted me with a greater mission." He stopped to look at each of them, hesitating to continue. Seven strong, very agitated women stared back at him; one wrong move, and he'd be a Umino-kabob. "A mission to help her in stopping the Sailor Senshi."

"I knew it!" Ami slammed a fist down on the table. "I mean…er…"

"So what's to stop us from stopping you right now, kid?" Haruka pushed him at the small of his back, jolting him only enough to make him stumble. When he regained his composure, he turned to her.

"Because I want to help you. Because I realized what I was doing was wrong." He stepped back from them a bit. "I didn't know what I was getting into. Didn't really understand the gravity of the situation, you know?" They each nodded in turn, knowing better than most exactly what he meant.

"Tell them what you told me," Minako nudged him, a bright twinkle in her eye.

"I didn't offer! You told me you'd—"

Minako slapped a hand over his mouth with an uncomfortable laugh. "He's offered to be a spy for us!" She released the wiry boy from her clutches, keeping a concealed thumb and forefinger in a pinch on his arm.

"Er…that's right," he stuttered, ramming an elbow into her gut. She choked back a squeal. "I'm going to—that is, if you all think it would be worthwhile, or want my help at all—continue working for Saito for the time being. And then, uh, report it back to you all."

Rei's voice came a little hampered, as she elevated her ankle on several pillows. "How do we know you're not spying right now—on us? Minako, this was just about the ditziest idea I think you've ever had. It was bad enough to blow your cover in front of him, but to bring him here and blow all of ours without warning?"

"No, no, it's not like that!" Umino objected, "I won't tell anyone!"

"Yeah, and what kind of guarantee can we possibly have on that?" Rei parried.

"It doesn't matter much anyway, what Minako did. I had figured it out for the most part on my own." He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, a nervous habit, and turned his mouth up in a smug grin.

"How would you do that?" said Ami, an air of haughty incredulity in her thin voice, "Our transformation isn't merely a physical one; part of the magic of it is that it has a mentally taxing effect on all those who observe. Most people forget they've seen us at all, and those who do remember can only evoke vague images of blurs and nondescript forms." She looked to the window for a moment. The sun was beginning to set, but perched on the cherry blossom just past the windowsill sat two large crows, peering in as though they understood every word. Coincidence? Umino's nasal voice brought her back.

"The attack earlier today. That's when I figured it out for certain—at least for you, and Makoto, and Rei." He pulled a pouch from his coat pocket. "You might want to analyze whatever's leftover in this, Ami. It's a dust, or a powder Saito instructed me to use on the youma in case you all overpowered it, initially." Ami took the pouch and set it on the table beside it, for analysis later. She wasn't thinking too clearly at the moment.

"So that's why it came back?" Makoto returned.

"Yes. I'm not sure how it works, but I figure Ami's little gizmo might help with that. It's beside the point; as I watched you all, at first I had the same haze you mention. But it doesn't take much to see how you all interact with one another—I recognized something from the past. You know, Ami, I had a pretty big crush on you in—"

"Let's not," the blue-haired brain cut him off, blushing for the second time already in that short meeting.

"I had done a lot of observation in high school, and I knew when I was watching you three earlier exactly where I remembered you from. It wasn't too difficult to put two and two together after that, figure out the rest of you. And that's when I knew what I was doing for Saito was terrible. I should have been helping you all, not helping kill you!"

"Quite the genius," Haruka remarked, narrowing her bright eyes at him.

"Come on, guys," Usagi said, having been silent for some time now, "he's had a change of heart in our favor. Now isn't the time to be punishing him for something he's already repented. We need to make our decision."

Makoto, Michiru, and Ami nodded solemnly. Minako flashed her teeth in a wide smile.

"I don't know about this," Rei muttered. "It's not that I don't trust him—"

"Well, I don't trust him!" Haruka interjected.

"—hold on, Haruka," Rei's eyes flashed black in the glint of sunlight that broke through the shadows of the spacious room. "I don't doubt Umino's intentions. I can see he's in earnest. But something in my gut says that this could seriously backfire on us."

"We don't even know what we're dealing with in Saito yet! She could be just some tyrannical politician or…she could be under some other control."

Minako looked down. "Well…I have to admit, I do think Saito is working for something much larger than herself. I'm pretty sure she's controlling these youma attacks. I confronted her about it—"

"What? Confronted her!?" Makoto stared hard at the blonde. "Of all the stu—"

"It was at her acceptance speech, where I ran into Umino. She was holding a question and answer session. I just said a few things…in any case, she was definitely wary of giving any information related to the attacks. But she wasn't scared to declare war on us!"

"What do you mean?" Michiru inquired, far more calmly than any of the others could have been capable of.

"She said that, well, the Senshi and anyone considered accomplices to them are officially deemed enemies of the state."

Gasps all around. Haruka looked as though she would punch through the shrine wall; Rei would have liked to do the same, if she wasn't stuck on the hard floor.

Umino backed her up. "Saito's been working on ways, as I said, to stop you. But she's making it a political goal, as well. If she can turn the people against you, she thinks that she can easily take you all down without any disruption to the greater morale of the city. She seems to believe that Sailor Moon—uh, Usagi—is planning to take control of Tokyo."

Usagi shot a knowing look all around. "The point is that we need to form a plan now."

"But do we want to take Umino on as a spy?" Minako prodded anxiously, "I mean, that's our most important line of business, right? We can wait to see how things play out with this 'war,' right? For all we know, she might get no support and have to drop the whole damn thing.

Usagi closed her eyes for a brief second. What the others didn't know was that another pain was wracking her stomach; she was working through it, though. She'd been practicing. "I trust Umino," she finally said, serenely. "I say we do it. Besides, there's no harm to be done now. He already knows our identities; he can't really get out of his position with Saito without raising suspicion. We may as well have him help us, since he's trapped there. Can we all agree?"

Umino looked silently around at the girls, feeling like he wasn't in the room at all. That all these girls were talking about some other person far away. But it was better that way, not to draw too much attention to himself. He was used to that.

Ami gave a silent nod. Michiru did the same. Makoto and Minako both verbalized their excitement; after all, this was big news!

"I'll go with whatever you believe best, Usagi," came Haruka's dutiful response.

"It still doesn't sit right with me," Rei stated, "but I don't think we have much of a choice."

"It's decided then," Usagi stood up and approached Umino. Taking his small hand in both of her own, she smiled. "Umino, you are now officially one of us. We'll expect reports twice weekly, unless something more urgent comes up. Maybe Luna could get a communicator?" She looked around.

"The—cat?" Umino inquired, curious. He thought he recalled some strange feline—did it have a little gold moon on its forehead?—following Usagi around outside the school.

"Yeah," Usagi replied. She looked suddenly puzzled. "Come to think of it, I haven't seen her or Artemis in a few days now."

"Usagi!" Ami chided. "How could you lose track of her?"

"Well, anyhow," she smirked sweetly, "They can take care of themselves. And we'll get things worked out. You can always come here if need be, but be discreet."

"I understand."

The door swung open for the third time that afternoon. In walked Meioh Setsuna, a pained glare in her ruby eyes. Her emerald locks were pulled back from her face in a loose braid. Sweat lined her hairline, and a waft of cigarette smoke followed her in through the entrance. Haruka had seen her sneaking "fresh air" breaks every hour or so since Hotaru had gotten sick, and the two had moved in with the lovers.

"Setsuna? What is it?" Michiru went to the woman, placing a tender hand on her shivering shoulder.

"She's gone." Setsuna's voice was panicked, her breathing quick.

"Who, darling, who's gone?" Michiru replied quietly. She brushed the stray hairs from Setsuna's wide eyes.

"Hotaru. I hurried home, like you told me, and the bed was empty! I turned the house upside down, tried the communicator, searched the neighborhood. There's no goddamn trace of the girl!"

"That's—that's impossible," Michiru stammered.

"I swear it," Setsuna murmured, more serious now, "She's gone."

Next up in Ascension: Spies, spies, all around! A big discovery and the consequences that ensue--what have the senshi really gotten into with this government conspiracy? A raid, and a new family situation. Old characters reappear while others make fateful moves toward their fates. The stakes are being raised.