Sailor Moon: Millennials

by PMSmiles

This is a fan repost of all available 33 chapters of The Judge's abandoned work. An epic length and very ambitions fic involving an amnesiac Pluto and a pregnant Usagi. Time and space travel abound in an effort to right wrongs and overcome evil.

8. Chapter 8

DISCLAIMER: Hello. Before I go any further I want to publicly state that this work of fan fiction is NOT of my own creation. I am simply a fan of this piece and after strenuously searching the internet to read it again after 20 years I have decided to upload it here for anyone else who wants to read it. The real author (The Judge) never finished this work, or at least never updated past chapter 33 (even though it is obvious that the ambitious plot of this story should continue much past this point). So please don't come after me for more updates. There won't be any. Rather enjoy this incomplete fan fiction for what it is and please forgive me for any formatting errors, some of the text files had to be manually edited and I did my best

_…_…_…_…_…_…_

SAILOR MOON: MILLENNIALS

Chapter 8

Shadows of the Past; Seeds of the Future

Ami and Ryo were sitting together on a cool, smooth slab of ancient Moon masonry, looking up at the stars. They were about as close as either of them was comfortable with, considering that Jupiter and Artemis were not far away, though perhaps not as close as they might have chosen, had they been alone. The other Senshi were out among the tiny brick hills and forests of ancient pillars; Jupiter leaned against a relatively upright column and occasionally asked questions of Artemis as she watched a different region of sky. Every so often, she glanced sidelong at her friends, or at the half-buried section of floor with its complex carving, from where Usagi and Luna had vanished and had yet to return.

"Ryo-kun," Ami asked, keeping her voice low so Jupiter wouldn't hear, "is something wrong? You've been quiet since we got here."

"Wrong? No, nothing's..." Ryo made the mistake of trying to look her in the face while he spoke; it was just too difficult for him to lie to those eyes. "Yes," he sighed, "there is."

"What?" Ami said, gently pushing for an answer. There was a long silence before she got it.

"It's this place," Ryo said at last. "I've seen it before. And not in a vision of the future. I never told you this, but I can remember what happened after Zoicite transformed me into that youma. A lot of that is what the thing was thinking or remembering while it fought you, and some of the clearest images were of this place. They weren't very pleasant," he said bleakly. "There were fires, explosions. People running out of burning buildings, running out into the streets, and then the swords find them, and..."

"It wasn't you," Ami said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"I know that," Ryo sighed. "You know that. _They_ don't."

"They who? The other Senshi..."

"Not them. _Them._" Ryo motioned towards the broken buildings. "A lot of people died here, Ami, and even if _I_ wasn't responsible for it, I'm carrying around a piece of the thing that _was._ Bringing it here again, knowing that in spite of all the horrible things it did, this monster survived while all sorts of good people died... it feels like I'm spitting on their graves."

Ami sighed. Ryo was serious and a deep thinker; she liked that about him, but those traits occasionally led him down depressing avenues of thought. Once he got a gloomy notion in his head, it tended to stick and get progressively worse the more he thought about it. She could argue him into seeing sense, of course, but it would take awhile—and in this case, she wasn't entirely sure that arguing would help. She settled instead for giving his hand an affectionate squeeze, leaving it linked with her own. After several minutes, she realized that her free hand was tracing symbols on the back of Ryo's hand—very specific symbols.

*I'm probably the only girl in the world who writes out math equations on the back of her boyfriend's hand,* Ami thought wryly.

"You forgot to carry the three," Ryo said absently. Ami blinked, rechecked the formula in her mind, realized he was right, then growled and punched him in the shoulder. "What?" Ryo asked. "How is this _my_ fault?"

"It just is."

Ryo sighed dramatically, but he was smiling as he did so, and he gently squeezed Ami's hand in return. The ghosts didn't seem quite so oppressive now.

Behind them, unnoticed, the intricate stone carving began to glow, projecting a pale column of light.

As the light faded, Usagi opened her eyes. She was back to her normal, everyday self, as was Luna, nestled in the crook of her left arm. Usagi looked down, at her friend, at the fading symbol beneath her feet, and sighed. It was not an entirely unhappy sound.

*She called me Usagi.*

"Heads up," Jupiter said, having spotted the brief glow and the rematerialization of the two absentees. "They're back."

Artemis bounded up. "What happened, Luna?"

"There was a problem with security," Luna said. "And the Queen wanted to talk to Usagi privately for a few minutes."

"Oh. Everything's all right, then?"

"That depends," Luna replied, hopping down and looking around. "Where is everyone?"

"Off poking through what's left of the ruins and getting lost down memory lane, probably." Artemis shook his head. "ChibiMoon and Mars both kind of freaked when you disappeared."

"Kind of?" Jupiter snorted. "They wanted Saturn to break out the Silence Glaive and start blasting until we either found you or blew out the other side of the Moon trying."

"I'm glad you talked them out of it," Luna said. "Queen Serenity told us some of the defenses are still up and running; I don't think the computer would have appreciated having a tunnel blasted through it."

"Rei—Mars, I mean—didn't take to the idea of just waiting around very well," Ryo chuckled nervously. "And she _really_ didn't like the fact that I couldn't find out where you'd gone or when you'd get back. Venus dragged her off before she could set fire to anything; she was saying something about fools for the fire, but I didn't catch all of it."

"Be thankful for small blessings," Artemis told him wryly.

"Anyway," Ryo went on, "Pluto wanted to look around a bit and see if she could recognize anything, so Saturn offered to show her around; they took ChibiMoon with them."

"Saturn. Offered to show her around," Usagi repeated.

"Uh-huh. I heard a bit of what she was telling Pluto as they left," Artemis said. "She seemed to remember it pretty clearly."

"I thought so, too," Ami agreed. Looking in the direction of three sets of boot prints, she shook her head as if she had been about to say one thing, and instead said another. "Neptune and Uranus wandered off a little after that. I might be wrong, but Neptune seemed sad for some reason."

"Probably the oceans," Luna guessed with a sigh.

"What oceans?" Jupiter asked, confused.

"The oceans of the old Moon," Luna explained. "I'll admit that calling them 'oceans' is being generous, considering that they weren't that deep, but even the small ones were quite a bit larger than your average lake. They were destroyed with everything else in Metallia's attack, but this is the first time Neptune's been on the Moon since the Silver Millennium, and regardless of what her mind knows, her spirit sees this as a place where there should be water."

"There should be plants, too." They all looked at Jupiter, who had her eyes closed as she spoke. "Low rows of sunleaf bushes with their little gold flowers along the main roads, and silverbirch in the avenues and on the corners, shading the nightbloom vines and beds of firemoss that provided light at night, and when we moved into eclipse behind Earth. And the royal gardens, with plants from all over the system: star lilies from Venus; Martian dustblossom; Jovian stormseed, always trying to drift away on the currents no matter what we anchored them down with; even that one rosebush Endymion brought for your birthday, Serenity."

The second Jupiter finished speaking, Usagi felt a push from the corner of her mind where the Moon Princess usually seemed to reside. Maybe it was Jupiter's dreamy, half-remembered use of the old names, but the world seemed to change around her in an instant; instead of the ruined, dust-choked surface of a dead Moon, Usagi was standing in a vast, beautifully decorated chamber...

The Great Hall of the palace was a grand and glittering place even on ordinary days. On days of state ceremony, it became even more so, and now it was filled with many people who were similarly great and glittering—or who believed they were—the lords and ladies of a dozen worlds, gathered to celebrate the day of her birth. The recent fashion among the ladies leaned heavily in the direction of bright silks and brighter jewels, as if to make the wearer outshine the stars themselves; the lords were similarly outfitted, if less brilliant than their ladies, the planets orbiting their respective stars.

She, the guest of honor, wore no such dress. While some of the ornate costumes were simply ridiculous, and others, rather beautiful, they were all on the showy side. And tradition—and Luna—had a very narrow tolerance for anything that was stylish, flashy, or even remotely 'improper.' Never mind that 'proper' dresses always took all the fun out of things; she was a Princess, she had to set an example, blah, blah, blah.

So she wore a more elaborate version of her customary day-to-day attire, the back of which was loosely gathered below the shoulders, and the front of which—thanks to some last-minute adjustments by one of her maids, when Luna wasn't looking—was perhaps a little lower and tighter than tradition would be comfortable with. It was a decent dress—and despite the silver necklace, it looked positively plain next to some of the designs making the rounds this night. Standing at the foot of the great staircase, greeting the nobles as they arrived and being forced to endure the sight of one stunning masterpiece of needle and thread and fabric after another, she sighed.

"It's not that bad a dress, Serenity," a nearby voice said, responding to the most recent in a series of envious sighs.

"Easy for you to say, Amma," the Princess retorted under her breath, glancing sidelong at her 'shadow' for the evening, the Lady Amalthea—and, more importantly, at the girl's choice of attire. Like most of her gowns, it was a vibrant green, close-fitting and without sleeves. Unlike most of her gowns, this one had slits in the skirt which showed off Amalthea's legs; and being a Jovian -which made her the tallest of the Princess's guards despite also being the youngest—she had quite a lot to show in that regard. There was a narrow neckline that divided the upper half of the gown—a neckline that, in all honesty, came much closer to being a waistline—giving Amalthea's other... assets... a similar degree of exposure as her legs. A belt of woven gold rode on her hips, while a matched necklace served as the collar with the dangerously important task of keeping the fabric of the front of the gown where it was supposed to be. From that same necklace, a cape of translucent green silk hung down to conceal—almost—her otherwise bare back, and emeralds flashed on her ears. "How in the name of the nine planets did you smuggle that outfit past Luna? She'd have a heart attack if she saw you."

"She was busy," Amalthea said with an indifferent shrug, gaining the undivided attention of a number of nearby lords in the process. "She had some objections to what Ishtar was planning to wear, so I snuck off and changed while they were arguing."

"So _that_ was what all the yelling was about," Serenity mused, recalling the tremendous racket somewhere down the hall which had given her maid the opportunity to fix the dress. "Was it really that bad? Ishtar's dress, I mean."

"Calling it a dress would be generous," Amalthea chuckled. "Ishtar said it was the customary form of attire for celebrations like this, but... well, you know how the Venusians are."

Serenity shook her head; the whole galaxy knew how the Venusians were. The tree-dwelling people of the second planet shared their world's reputation for great beauty, and they were undeniably one of the friendliest races—human or otherwise—known to exist, but they also had this little cultural quirk about 'excessive' amounts of clothing. It had to do with an article of their religion, a passage which said something about honesty and openness, and as with everything else they did, the Venusians had taken that concept to a good-natured extreme. Ishtar's mother was one of the planet's highest-ranking priestesses, and had raised her daughter to adhere to their religion's teachings with an almost militant fervor. Given that the rest of the galaxy tended to regard that particular religion as hedonistic, at best, Ishtar had caused more than her share of waves in the royal court.

And speaking of waves, one that had nothing to do with Ishtar was going through the assembled dignitaries at this moment, a ripple of turning heads and murmured words as the court herald struck his staff of office against the marble floor, clearing his throat to announce the late arrival of another guest. Some of the murmurs turned to muttering as the identity of the guest became obvious.

"Prince Endymion of Earth," the herald announced in a clear, neutral tone, the same tone in which he had proclaimed the arrival of every other guest this evening. "And escorts," the white-haired old man added, "Jadeite and Nephrite, of the Elite."

The crowd parted before the three Earthmen as they made their way to the stairs at the far end of the Hall, where Serenity and Amalthea stood; given the length of the Hall, the Princess had ample time to examine each of them.

If the ladies of the court were stars and the lords planets, then the two Elite were asteroids, their traditional uniforms devoid of any decoration beyond the blood-red stones on the shoulders of Nephrite's jacket. Their faces were equally austere, and though they remained looking forward, their eyes seemed to be everywhere at once, gauging the mood of the crowd for possible threats, noting potential routes through which danger might strike or be escaped. Both men were undeniably handsome, but their reputations—as individuals, as members of the highly trained, highly skilled Elite, and as Earthmen—made many of the women of the court look away when one of the two guardians glanced in their direction. Serenity hardly noticed the two warriors, but then, she only had eyes for the dark-haired man leading them.

It was no secret that many of the noble houses felt that a Prince of Earth had no business being anywhere near a Princess of the Moon, for Earth, the cradle of human civilization, the Blue Jewel of the planets whose beauty rivaled that of Venus, was also the only world where men still made war on other men. The soldiers of the Moon and the other planetary kingdoms had their share of battle, dealing with starfaring pirates, marauding alien beasts, and the occasional incursion by dark beings from the void between worlds, but such threats were a distant, uncommon occurrence. Violence and the death that went with it were little more than an unpleasant notion of history to most; on Earth, they were an almost daily reality.

Hence the broad-shouldered, silver-enameled black armor Endymion always wore, and the straight-backed, military bearing with which he carried both the weight of that armor and other, far heavier duties. Though his guards were not visibly armed, the Prince himself carried sufficient rank to be permitted to keep his weapon, and his hand never strayed far from the hilt. He was not the only armed man in the room; many of the lords also carried blades in one form or another, and there were the palace guardsmen stationed at regular points throughout the Hall, but Endymion's sword—a heavy-bladed, unadorned broadsword— made the jeweled daggers and light fencing swords favored by the noblemen appear like the gaudy toys they were. There was, moreover, a seriousness on his face and in his eyes—eyes that, at twenty, had seen things many gathered here could never begin to believe—which only his own guards and the oldest and most battle-hardened of the lunar soldiers could match. This Prince was a true warrior, and he took the responsibilities of his hereditary office very seriously.

Serenity supposed that was one of the things she loved about him. As if his eyes weren't enough on their own, or his face, or the way he moved...

The Princess realized she was staring and broke off, blushing. Still some distance away, Endymion nonetheless appeared to notice and smiled that knowing half-smile of his, the smile that made all the lines of worry fade, the smile that was reflected in his eyes, the smile that made her heart start to...

*He's doing it to me AGAIN!* Serenity screamed in silent frustration, glaring at her beloved Prince through her own smile of welcoming. Endymion merely lifted an eyebrow in response; it made her want to scream. Just once, _why_ couldn't she get some sign that _she_ had the same effect on _him_ that _he_ always had on _her?_

"Men show their feelings differently, dear one," her mother's voice said from her other side. "You just have to figure out what to look for." The Queen had descended the stairs in silence with her four guards while her daughter had been absorbed in watching the Prince. The dark-haired, dark-eyed Lady Vestia, Senshi of Mars—attired, as ever, in a very proper dress of fiery scarlet—was with her. Vestia frowned as she looked at Amalthea, but did not comment on her clothing, believing it improper to scold a fellow Senshi in public view; she'd do it later. There was still no sign of Ishtar—who was probably still fighting with Luna—or of Mercury, though she was very likely hidden somewhere in crowd; you never could tell, with Nereids, where one might decide to appear next.

This was not the first—nor the last—time that Queen Serenity had answered a question before her daughter could put it to words. It was a useful, if slightly annoying gift which the Queen possessed, and she put it to work on everyone. Serenity had wondered time and again if her mother was telepathic, or just very, very good at reading people. *And why,* the Princess added, glancing sidelong at her mother, *does _she_ get to wear whatever dress she chooses while _I_ get stuck wearing copies of the same old thing?*

"Privilege of rank," the Queen murmured. Knowing it would irritate her daughter, she smoothed a line from her gown; it was one of the variations on her own usual attire, this night, but that was completely by her own choice, not because of tradition or Luna.

Endymion and his escorts had reached the foot of the stairs before Serenity could think up a suitable retort. The Prince bowed, one hand holding the hilt of his sword steady while the other swept his trailing cape to one side; the two Elite saluted, right hands clenched over their hearts in the Earther style, before bowing in turn.

"Rise, and be welcome," Queen Serenity greeted the three men.

Endymion smiled. "Thank you, Your Majesty. My father sends his apologies for being unable to attend, but urgent matters at home required his personal attention." He turned to Serenity. "Greetings, Princess."

"Hello, En—I mean, Your Highness. Thank you for accepting our invitation."

"I wouldn't have missed it for anything." Endymion looked back as Nephrite coughed at that pronouncement; finding only a collected, questioning look on the long-haired Elite's face, the Prince narrowed his eyes suspiciously before he turned back to the ladies. As soon as his Prince's back was turned, Nephrite smiled crookedly. Amalthea smiled as well; Nephrite noticed, gave her a long, considering look, then winked. Beside him, Jadeite rolled his eyes.

They engaged in the customary small talk for several minutes, asking about the health of various individuals and the other harmless tidbits such discussions tend to include. Nephrite coughed at least three times during the exchange of meaningless pleasantries.

"My apologies," Vestia finally interrupted, "but is the good Elite coming down with something?"

"Only a severe case of heartbreak," Nephrite replied, "brought on by being in the presence of four such dazzling beauties."

Endymion drummed his fingers on the hilt of his weapon while he besought strength from someone beyond the ceiling. "No, my Lady, it's merely his clumsy way of reminding me that I haven't presented the Princess with her birthday gift yet. Jadeite, if you would?"

"Of course, My Prince." The blond Elite turned and nodded to a pair of palace servants who had trailed behind, carrying a light, wooden chest between them. As the pair stepped forward and opened the chest, Amalthea glanced at it in an odd way, her head tilted as if she were listening to something.

Serenity gasped as the servants lifted out the gift, a small but healthy-looking bush of blood-red blossoms against dark green leaves, set in a soil-filled pot of opaque crystal. Some of the gathered nobles dismissed the plant with a sniff and a triumphant smirk, knowing their presents had been far more costly, more worthy of a Princess than some simple Earthly weed. A few of the older nobles, however, including the Queen, were looking at the Prince and the flowers in amazement.

"They're beautiful," Serenity said earnestly, "but I've never seen flowers like that before. Amma?" she asked, turning to her friend, whose knowledge of plants was unmatched.

Amalthea took a quick look around before answering; half the court was listening. "They're roses, Serenity."

The silence was absolute. "Impossible," one young lord muttered, astonished.

Amalthea glared at him. "Are you calling me a liar, sir?"

"No," the lord said hastily, waving his hands, "but... that is... what I mean to say is... roses?" he finished weakly.

"Roses," Amalthea said firmly.

The young lord's shock was somewhat understandable. The rose had long been one of the ultimate symbols of love; in the modern culture, there was no stronger declaration of devotion. But roses did not grow on the Moon. For some reason, the plants grew only on Earth, defying even the most magical attempts to transplant them to other worlds. Obtaining even a few roses was a difficult and expensive undertaking, and they did not travel well, so the great lovers of the other worlds made do with other species of plants, and sometimes gems carved into the likeness of the fabled flower. Everyone knew of the rose, had seen pictures or carvings or even the occasional rare, half-wilted specimen, but none of these could truly compare with the sight of a living rose. Serenity extended one hand in wonder, brushing the soft petals of the plant.

"Ouch!"

"Be careful of the thorns," Endymion said, a second too late, grimacing ruefully.

"Very typical of Earth," another young lord drawled in a high, superior voice. "Even the most beautiful things there can't seem to get along without drawing blood."

Forgetting for the moment that he was not armed, Jadeite's hand went to his hip, in search of a sword that was not there.

"Calm yourself, Jadeite," Endymion said softly, turning to face the nobleman. "You find fault with my choice of a gift, sir?"

"Not the gift itself," the man replied smoothly, "but how it was given. A single rose is a thing of rare beauty, and two or three together are a wonder, but this many at once is pretentious, at best, good Prince. A simple bouquet would have served the same purpose, and without this admittedly mild injury to Her Highness."

"Ah, but to create such a bouquet, I would have been forced to kill several of the most beautiful blossoms; I know you consider we of Earth to be somewhat barbarous, but really, my Lord, even we have our limits. After all, if you kill everything one day, what will be left for tomorrow?" There were a few chuckles as Endymion went on. "The rose is considered a symbol of love because it is the color of the heart, and of the blood that flows through it. Perhaps, my Lord, you've heard the old superstition that the rose, being the color of blood, needs blood to live? That it can only grow on Earth because our world is the only one whose fields have paid the price for this beauty?"

"I had not heard that," the man admitted.

"Then your day has not been a total loss; you've learned something new." There was more muted laughter. "I chose to present her Highness with a living rosebush rather than dead and withering blossoms, hoping that the flower might, for once, grow outside its normal bounds. The unfortunate injury to her person was unexpected, but if it bothers you so much..."

Nobody was quite prepared to see Endymion draw a silver-bladed dagger from somewhere on his person, slash it across his own palm, and then clench the wounded hand into a fist, squeezing several large drops of blood onto the rosebush and the dirt beneath.

"There," the Prince said, driving the small dagger into the soil to clean away the blood before sheathing it. "The injury to the Princess has been repaid tenfold." He smiled faintly at Serenity. "Perhaps the flowers will grow, now that their price has been paid."

Usagi came back to the present in a blur and a blink. She remembered that she had ordered the rosebush planted, pot and all, in the section of the royal gardens nearest her quarters. She also recalled sneaking out that same night, accompanied by Ishtar—who had eventually shown up at the party in her traditional Venusian 'dress,' despite all of Luna's objections—on a quiet mission. With a little help from her love-fostering ally and a small, sharp knife, the Princess had added a few drops of her own blood to the dark Earthly soil around the roses; her Prince had done this for her, and she could do no less for him. And it seemed to have worked; from that day until the day when Metallia had arisen and destroyed everything, the solitary rosebush in the royal gardens had grown and bloomed, the only one of its kind off of Earth.

"Usagi?" Mercury—no, Ami—asked. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I just sort of remembered that rosebush Jupiter was just talking about. Vividly."

"Yeah," Jupiter said. "I know what you mean. I don't usually get lost in my own mind that easily. What gives?"

"It's the sun." Artemis shrugged. "When you're living on a world where 'dawn' lasts upwards of thirty regular hours, and where night falls one day and doesn't leave for the better part of the next month... suffice to say, it gets to you after a while. Even ten centuries later."

"So a thousand years of interplanetary peace was due to a chronic combination case of sunstroke and oversleeping," Ryo mused. "I've heard worse ideas."

Jupiter chuckled. "Speaking of interplanetary peace, we'd better call the others back if we want to maintain it."

While Jupiter sent out that call, Usagi looked at Ryo and Ami. "And what was so fascinating that you two didn't notice me appear out of thin air right behind you?"

Usagi expected one or both of them to blush and blurt out a denial that anything had been going on, especially in light of the fact that they were still holding hands. Ryo's quiet explanation of the unsettling feeling that had been dogging him since their arrival startled her, and Usagi looked down at Luna.

"What?" Ami asked, catching the look.

Usagi sighed and repeated what Queen Serenity had told her about the computer's reaction to Ryo. "But it's all taken care of," she finished reassuringly.

"Well, good." Ryo couldn't avoid making a quick sweep of the area with his eyes, just to be certain there weren't any... he admitted that he had no idea _what_ these so-called 'defenses' looked like, but he suspected he'd know one if he saw it. And he didn't know or see one, so he relaxed—a little—wondering if the sense of oppression had been caused by the attention of this subterranean computer rather than a guilty conscience. "Do you think maybe you could leave that part out of whatever you tell the others?"

Usagi blinked. "Why?"

"It's not really that important, is it? And besides," Ryo added, "I'd sort of rather not let Neptune and Uranus know that I used to be one of the bad guys. Not that I don't trust them," he said quickly, "it's just that... um... well, they're a little..."

"Intimidating?" Luna asked.

"Scary?" Usagi supplied.

"Driven?" Ami prompted.

"Obsessive?" Jupiter suggested, earning a few sidelong glances from her friends which suggested that _she_ was hardly in a position to call other people 'obsessive.'

"Implacable?" Artemis finished, earning a few glances of his own; since when did _he_ even know what words that large meant?

Ryo was nodding. "Exactly."

"Not a problem," Usagi said. "But if you happen to get that nervous feeling again, let us know, okay?"

Ryo nodded.

"Good." Usagi looked out into the ruins. "There they are," she said, waving at the other Senshi as they returned. She flinched at their reply, seven voices shouting four words in unison:

"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?"

Once Mars and ChibiMoon had been calmed down, Usagi explained her brief trip, omitting only the details of Luna's brief transformation and, as requested, what Serenity had said about Ryo.

"So it worked?" ChibiMoon asked.

Usagi nodded. "Oh, and Ami, your computer won't give you any more problems; Mother unlocked the security codes for it, and..." Usagi trailed off. "How did I know that, Luna?"

"Do you remember what the Queen said about examining your thoughts while we were in the beam? She could also use it to send information directly into your mind, much more quickly and completely than telling you the old-fashioned way."

"Oh. That makes sense." Usagi thought it over and realized that Luna was right; there was a great deal of information in her head all of a sudden, silent lessons and instructions from Queen Serenity, months of study imparted in a few seconds. She grinned. "That's a handy sort of trick. Do you suppose we can come back right before exams?"

Luna facefaulted.

"Did she... say anything else?" Pluto asked quietly.

Usagi's grin died. Pluto had been looking at the carved symbol on the floor with a fixed, almost hungry intensity ever since Usagi mentioned what Serenity had done for Luna and herself, and it didn't take someone with Ami's or Neptune's intellect to figure out why.

"I'm sorry, Setsuna," Usagi said. "She can't help you."

Pluto looked at her for a moment, something indecipherable in her eyes. Then she sighed and nodded.

Uranus cleared her throat, dispelling some of the awkwardness of the moment. "I guess we can leave, then."

"Not just yet," Usagi disagreed, the implanted information tugging at her thoughts. "There's something else we need to do. This way."

The Senshi exchanged glances as they followed their leader into a different part of the ruins. When Usagi stopped, they were standing in front of a fire-blackened pile of stones, with the shattered bases of two columns to each side. Pieces of displaced floor tile poked up out of the dust. Again, as they looked at the tumbled ruin, there was a sense of recognition.

"We need to clear some of this out," Usagi said.

"I've got it." Saturn stepped up, raising her Glaive. "Everybody give me some room, okay? This might be a little imprecise."

"Don't do anything foolish," Neptune told her immediately. Saturn smiled, nodding as the others backed up a few steps. Then she lowered the head of the Glaive until it was almost touching the rubble, closed her eyes, and began.

There was no light show, no chanted words; only Saturn's intense expression of concentration and the faint, violet-dark glow of the Silence Glaive indicated that anything was happening. After a moment, however, the pile of shattered stone was noticeably less than it had been—and it was getting smaller. No fuss, no noise; just the steady disintegration of the thousand year- old debris. And as the old stones vanished, a surprisingly intact stairwell was revealed beneath them.

Saturn jumped slightly as the remaining stones, deprived of the supporting weight of their now-vanished neighbors, collapsed into that stairwell with a loud clatter and a spray of dust. Its mistress's concentration broken, the violet light of the Glaive flickered and then faded away.

"Thank you, Saturn," Usagi said. "Uranus, would you please clear away the dust? The chamber below has been sealed since Metallia's attack; the air is bound to be bad after so long."

Uranus arched an eyebrow but did as she was asked, holding one hand in the air, palm forward and fingers slightly curled. Concentrating as Saturn had concentrated, she slowly drew that arm back, her fingers wobbling as if they were trying very hard to hold onto something. A great plume of dust erupted from the mouth of the stairs and flew high into the bubble of artificial atmosphere, spreading out to fall in a wide ring about the Senshi. After the dust came a low whistle of rushing air and a stale, musty odor.

It never occurred to her to wonder at how she knew how to manipulate her power like this; the strange, half-remembered nature of this place had filled her mind—all their minds—with whispers and faded images of how things used to be. The part of Uranus that was Tennou Haruka had no idea how to call wind like this, but the part of her which had lived and died such a very long time ago knew exactly what was happening, and why, and how. Uranus suspected that she could have asked it for an explanation, but she chose not to; as long as somebody she could trust understood what was going on, that was enough.

While the others were still watching the dust fall, Uranus suddenly reversed the original motion, driving her arm forward as if pushing something. With the change in motion by her hand, there came a blast of wind from all sides, a wall of air which ruffled hair and clothes alike as it contracted in on itself before shooting down into the stairwell and whatever lay below. The breeze continued until Uranus relaxed and let her arm fall.

"Thank you, Uranus. All of you, follow me."

They followed, and without comment or complaint; Usagi's voice and manner were slightly more formal than usual, suggesting that perhaps her Princess self was speaking.

The stairs led down at a steady angle, each large enough for two rows of three people to stand on and still have room; Mars and Jupiter followed just behind Usagi and the cats, with Ami, Ryo, and Pluto next, and then Uranus and Neptune. Venus and Saturn brought up the rear.

Crystal globes set into the walls began to glow with faint blue light as Usagi passed. The crystals—perhaps a little too large to hold easily in one hand if they were removed from the walls—were fixed into the marble at about eye level; some were shattered, and others flickered feebly, but there was still more than enough light to see by.

Not that there was much to see. The walls, steps, and ceiling were all made of the same smooth marble, heavy and unadorned and with no sign of cutting or separation; it was as if the entire place were a single piece of stone. Aside from the glowing gems, placed above every third step, the only breaks in the monotony were jagged cracks and the occasional pile of dust. Not the most reassuring sight when you're somewhere underground and going deeper, but the further they went, the less apparent the damage became.

Most of the Senshi started counting steps; the cats didn't, since they already knew how many there would be, while Venus confused the actual number of stairs with the steps she was taking, and was well past one hundred before she realized her mistake and gave up. The others quit after fifty or so, but Ami and Neptune both kept at it and got eighty-one when they reached the bottom. And with each stair wide enough that it took two or three steps to reach the next, that put them quite a ways down.

The chamber here was much like the stairs, but it actually held things. A massive set of bronze double doors was set into the far wall, with the crescent insignia of the Moon Kingdom as their only adornment; there weren't even any locks or handles. Two marble statues flanked the doors, imposing, slightly larger than life-sized warriors in full plate mail, with crescent-marked shields in their left hands and long pikes in their right. Six identical statues stood at regular intervals along the walls, one on either side of the arch through which the Senshi now entered, the other four where they would have also flanked doors, had any existed in the side walls.

"I'd hate to have to fight this bunch," Jupiter said slowly.

"Palace guards," Luna identified the statues as Usagi walked towards the doors. "Or at least, statues of them. And if you don't keep quiet, Jupiter, you _will_ have to fight them."

Jupiter was about to protest that statement when they all heard the grating slither of stone sliding against stone, looked up, and saw the stone helms of the two statues turning towards Usagi. A muffled yelp from Saturn indicated that the statues behind them were showing a similar degree of animation.

"No one move!" Luna hissed, even as most of the group got ready for a fight. "Just stand still and wait!"

Usagi was saying something in that hauntingly familiar tongue the other humans couldn't quite recall. It was a very musical language, all the words flowing into one another; none of it made any sense, but it appeared to satisfy the statues. Eight male voices—it was hard to tell whether they were different voices which sounded somewhat alike, or if just one voice was speaking from eight different locations—said something back in a united chant before the assorted helmets rotated back to their original positions.

As the booming echoes of the stone voices faded, the doors opened soundlessly, each sliding back along the wall behind one of the statues. The chamber beyond was much larger and far more interesting than this guard chamber; pillars taller than Uranus and Jupiter and Pluto combined held up the high roof, while the walls were covered with intricate carvings of marble, gold, and crystal.

As the Senshi walked into the room, their eyes were drawn to its main feature; atop a dais at the far end stood a statue of a woman in a flowing gown, a woman whose features, though not identical, were immediately recognizable as being kin to Usagi and ChibiMoon. Her hair, despite being stone, was the same style, the tails hanging down almost to the floor. Angelic wings of marble spread from her back, each wing almost as long as the statue was tall, their tips nearly touching the walls. A crown which somehow managed to give the appearance of being light even when fashioned from marble rested on the woman's head; she held a stone scepter in her left hand, and a marble chalice which reminded them all of the vanished Grail in her right. The stone double of a familiar crystal was fixed over her heart, and her face was at once stern and gentle. At her feet, a gold stand held up a large book made not of stone, but of ancient leather and paper—or perhaps parchment. It was closed, a wide, heavy band of what appeared to be silver folded over and around the cover. And in the dais before both book and statue was a stone sword, life-sized, perhaps half the length of its blade driven into the floor.

"Serenity the First," Artemis said, sounding almost reverent. "The founder of the Moon Kingdom and architect of the Silver Millennium."

"Just how many of them were there, anyway?" Uranus asked. "With the name Serenity, I mean?"

"Twenty-nine, counting the one we know now as Usagi," Luna replied. "A line unbroken from mother to daughter for over fourteen hundred years."

"You'd think," Ryo noted clinically, "that in all that time, they'd have changed the hair at least once."

Ami, still looking up at the statue, elbowed him in the ribs.

"I don't get it," Jupiter said. "Why all the security for a statue, a sword, and a book?"

"There's something else here." Mars had her eyes half-closed, her hands slightly raised as if to feel the air around her. "Not just a statue, a sword, and a..." She broke off suddenly, opening her eyes all the way to stare at the book.

The book from her dream, the book that had been made of fire and lightning. Usagi was reaching for it. Mars didn't even stop to think.

"Usagi! Don't touch it!" Usagi—or was it Serenity just then?—turned, startled, as Mars raced up and pulled her away from the silver-bound book.

"Mars," Luna demanded, "what are you doing?"

"It's all right, Luna." Usagi looked back to Mars. "You saw it, didn't you?"

"I had a dream," Mars replied uneasily, still not entirely certain who she was addressing. "The night of the storm. I saw myself reading a book of fire."

Usagi smiled. "I thought it might be you, Rei," she said softly, touching one hand to her friend's face before turning back to the sealed book. "Can you read the words on the cover?"

Recalling the dream-fire that had threatened to destroy her eyes and her mind if she read so much as a letter, it took a moment before Mars could bring herself to examine the book. The 'words' were a series of very peculiar symbols which seemed to change as she looked at them. This is not to say that they moved around, or grew lighter or darker, or experienced any physical change at all; rather, parts of the various marks would begin to seem very similar to forms of writing she was familiar with: Japanese kanji here, here, and over there; Romanic letters here and here; something which might have been an Egyptian hieroglyph, here. And quite suddenly, she realized that she could understand some of it.

She said a very long word—or perhaps several words—in the same language Usagi had used a moment before, then frowned. "I think that means 'the Book of Ages.'"

"And a few other things besides, but that will do." Usagi picked up the book. "It's called that because it's been around for a very long time, though nobody was ever really sure just how old. It contains information on life and magic and science, past and present and future, all of it interwoven together so that you can—supposedly—find the answer to any question. IF you look closely enough."

"Sort of like a User's Manual to the Universe?" Ryo suggested.

"Only written in a foreign language," Usagi added. "A very difficult, magical one. If you can read the language and are patient enough to untangle the other defensive powers of the Book, it can tell you anything: the cure for cancer, the secret of cold fusion, even how to program a VCR." She smiled faintly.

"And the catch?" Uranus asked immediately.

"The catch," Usagi replied, "is that the Book is, despite all its defenses, still just a book. It only contains the secrets; it does not dictate who will find them. Once the information is out, it is up to humans to decide whether to use it for good or evil. In the hands of a good person who could read it, the Book could literally save the world; in the hands of an evil person, it would become a terrible instrument of darkness. So it was sealed away down here, and only consulted in times of the most urgent need. To minimize the risk, no one person was ever entrusted with sole guardianship. Until now." And with that, she extended her arms, holding the Book out to Mars.

"Keep that thing away from me," Mars said, backing up a step.

"It won't hurt you, Mars." Usagi took a step forward. "And we'll need its help before this is all over."

"So? Just open it now and find what you want so we can get out of here."

"It's not that simple. Even if we didn't need the Book, it still has to be kept safe, and the defenses here are just too weak to do that anymore; we have to take it with us."

"Then give it to Ami," Mars said, backing up again. "Or Neptune."

"It has to go with you," Usagi insisted. "Mars, look at the Book. At the lock. What do you see?"

Mars looked, and frowned. The silver band was solid and unbroken, with no sign of catches or releases or keyholes. "That doesn't make any sense," she objected. "How are we supposed to get it open if the lock's all one piece?"

"I don't know," Usagi admitted. "Once the Book is locked, only someone who can read its language can open it again—and the language on the cover changes every time the thing is sealed, so even those who can read what's _inside_ can't open it. Nobody knows why, let alone how, but there are a few people born in every generation who can read the cover, who can read the Book no matter what condition it or they are in; you're one of them, and you're a Senshi. Even if we _could_ find someone else who could read the Book, how could we be sure that we could trust them with it? How would they protect it if someone or something came looking for it? Rei," Usagi said, her voice dropping to just above a whisper, "if _I_ can understand how important this is, I know you must realize it, too. Why won't you just take the Book?"

Mars hesitated. "If I do take it," she whispered softly, not meeting Usagi's gaze, "I'll have to protect it. And that means I won't be able to protect _you._"

Usagi smiled. "So protect me, then: take the Book, figure out how to get it open so we can find out what we need to know, _find_ what we need to know, and don't let anyone take it and misuse it." She reached out again and turned Mars' face towards her. "Rei, any one of you can fight off monsters; _you're_ the only one who can read the Book."

They looked at each other for a long time. Then Mars put out her hands and mutely accepted the Book. Despite the fact that it was larger than a telephone directory, it felt very light.

"Is that it?" Uranus asked impatiently, earning a swat to the back of the head from Neptune.

"No," Usagi replied, turning back to the statue of her ancestor and placing both hands on the hilt of the stone sword in front of it and pulling up. The sword moved perhaps an inch before she had to let it go. "Jupiter," she said, "I need some help with this."

"Sure." Jupiter took hold of the grip, one-handed, and pulled, grunting in surprise as the full weight of the sword became evident. In its resting position, the weapon had extended about three feet up from the top of the dais, and almost half that length was taken up by the grip and the hilt; once Jupiter had pulled it free, the thing was revealed in its full glory, five feet from the tip of the broad blade to the crescent-inscribed pommel. Larger crescents adorned the crossguard, which itself curved slightly towards the double-edged blade; a trail of the symbols Luna had identified as 'the Silver Script' ran the length of the stone blade, which gleamed no less brightly than it would have had it been made of metal.

Uranus whistled appreciatively. "Nice sword."

"Gladius," Artemis told them. "The traditional weapon of the captain of the royal guards. The stone it's made from is harder than diamond, and magic insures that the blade stays sharp and whole, no matter how much punishment it takes." He glanced at Usagi. "You're sure you want to bring it with us?"

"It's probably not a bad idea," Luna said. "Anybody who can build a mana nexus could probably analyze the sword if they ever got their hands on it. These fungus-creatures have been a problem, but I'd rather worry about them than the possibility of having to face an army of creatures made from nearly indestructible stone."

"Amen to that," Artemis agreed fervently. "Is that everything, then?"

Usagi nodded. "The armories were all destroyed in Metallia's attack; of what's left, these and the computer are the only things that could be dangerous. And anything that tries to go after the computer will have to get through about three miles of solid rock _and_ Mother to reach it."

"Then I guess it's time to go," Venus said, looking around and sighing. The others nodded, their faces showing the same reluctance to leave even as they formed the circle.

Just as the world began to disappear into the flash of light, Usagi looked up at the face of her long-dead ancestor. It was strange, but in the bright light, the statue seemed to be smiling.

The darkened monitoring room now had upwards of a dozen men and women in and around it, all of them checking connections, evaluating readouts, and comparing records in an attempt to figure out what had happened. Their city-wide detection network, designed to track and trace the weird energy involved in the movements of these equally weird creatures, was still in its early infancy. Not all of the bugs had been shaken out of the system, and the last thing it had needed was a sudden, over-the-top surge of energy.

But that was what the system had gotten, and now half of its component computers and detection devices had been left shorted out by the overload. Now they faced the unenviable task of determining what still worked, what had to be replaced, and what could just be given a swift kick to get it up and running again.

The second surge neatly solved that imbalance; by the time it had passed, _all_ the detection systems were fried.

After the alarms had shut down or blown themselves out, the man whose office earned him the title of Monitor Six checked the second readout and compared it with the first.

"Well?" one of the others asked.

"Looks like the same group of signals, with a couple of extra passengers. Some sort of return trip, I'd guess."

"Any idea where they were headed?"

Monitor Six checked a different readout, one of the few still functioning properly. "Looks like somewhere in the Juuban district, but the system can't narrow it down any further; too many sensors are out in that area from the original surge."

"What about the point of origin?"

"Just a sec... we got a partial trajectory reading from sector eight before the whole array crashed... looks like..." Monitor Six blinked.

"Well? Where did it come from?"

"The network's long-range capacity is pretty limited, but based on that trajectory, the nearest possible point of origin is... the Moon."

There was a long silence, in which several of the people in the room looked at each other. Finally, one of them spoke.

"Get the Director."

Archon's head snapped up at the same instant as his apprentice felt the unfamiliar ripple of power. It was not precisely the same as before, carrying with it a sense of something that was steadily drawing closer, and it was somehow larger than the first time, but she was certain it was the work of the same individual or group.

"You were wise to summon me," Archon congratulated the girl, referring to her decision to invoke her teacher's awareness and half-real image following the original disturbance. "That was most definitely not something I or any other Atlantean was responsible for."

"What was it?"

"A teleportation magic of some sort," the master mage replied, narrowing his eyes as he looked off in the direction from which the power had seemed to originate. "I am too far from you to be certain who or how many were involved, but there is something about it... something familiar... I will have to consult my records and compare them with the watcher's analysis before I can be certain of anything." After another moment of consideration, Archon shook his head. "No matter. How proceeds your work, apprentice?"

The girl demonstrated by calling up a three-dimensional image of the city in the air between them. It was, of necessity, a small image, with even the largest clusters of skyscrapers reduced to shapes smaller than her own littlest finger, but she knew that with a word and a gesture, she could zoom in on any given area of the illusory map and see a clear and precise image. It was not just a picture conjured up from her own memory or imagination, but an exact duplication of every building, street, object, and person in Tokyo, accurate down to the smallest possible detail. If she were to zoom in on her own room, she would find images of herself and Archon within the larger illusion.

"Excellent," Archon remarked. The illusion of his body tested her illusion of the city with one of its hazy fingers, nodding in approval when the clash of energies did not distort the map in any way. He floated to a different area, tested it a second time, and again nodded mutely. "Most impressive. And the tracking spell?"

She arranged her thoughts, spoke a few syllables in the complex Atlantean tongue, then released the magic with a negligible nod of her head. This was something Archon had been insistent on; while it was true that magic tended to involve a gestures as an aid to concentration, a clever wizard would always look into developing alternate forms of common spells, ones which did not require the drawn-out and obvious twisting of fingers. It improved the chances of working magic while remaining anonymous to the world at large—and anonymity was, for her, a most important asset.

The spell complete, the floating map glowed brightly, then began to change as the point of view moved in. Vague blotches of color became recognizable as city blocks, which in turn became clear enough for individual buildings to be picked out, which in turn grew large enough for specific windows and the like to be discerned. The map had been reduced to the image of a single apartment complex, but before it could zoom in further, the entire thing shattered, sending shards of light raining out in all directions to fade away in mid-air.

"I still can't get it to focus on her," the girl said, halfway between exasperation and anger.

"Patience, my dear. As you surmised before, the one you are attempting to target with your magic is under some form of protection. I have seen such things before; with time and practice, you will eventually be able to breach that defense, whatever its nature."

"You mean you don't know what it might be?"

"On the contrary; I know of nearly a hundred possibilities. But this is _your_ vendetta, apprentice, and any interference by my hand will only lessen your enjoyment when it is finally realized. And I would hate to deprive you of that particular pleasure." Archon smiled, a chilling smile which somehow reassured the girl before him.

"I appreciate that."

"I thought you might. Take heart," Archon added. "Simply because you are unable to reveal your enemy by magic does not mean that your more powerful or indirect spells will also be foiled." The girl looked up sharply, but Archon acted as if he had not noticed. "I fear I must leave you now, apprentice. My own duties call. Until our next lesson."

As his image faded, Archon smiled inwardly. In his long years of studying magic and training students, he had learned to judge those he worked with. He had no idea who this girl was, or what she had done to earn such tremendous enmity from his student—she hadn't even told him the name, and he hadn't asked—but seldom in his life had he seen such a degree of loathing in a single person. His apprentice would seize any chance to strike at the object of her spite—and his seemingly casual mention of indirect spells was just such an opportunity.

*Time to see how she handles the feel of blood on her hands,* Archon decided as his awareness raced back across the miles to Atlantis. *If she succeeds in this, I think she will be ready to be presented before the Lords.*

One innocent, unknown life, in exchange for the rise of another to power and importance.

In Archon's mind, a fair bargain.

Proteus was a little better prepared for the second overload than others. Either that, or the destruction of its more sensitive and outlying receptors had the effect of blunting the amount of power it picked up on, thus sparing the remaining portion of its substance a similar experience.

It gritted its equivalent of teeth, tensed every last molecule of itself, and withstood the surge of energy with only minimal additional damage. Then it went to work in an attempt to repair itself.

Surveying the extent of the damage, Proteus was forced to admit it had found a serious weakness in itself. While its mind had continued to expand from the half-aware program of its origin, its physical substance remained as primitive now as it had been upon its arrival. There was simply more of it, and as the damage from the energy surge proved, more was not always better.

Study of information gained from the humans and their machines had explained the nature of evolution to Proteus, and it understood that it was in many respects an endangered... perhaps not a species, but most certainly an endangered form of life. If it were to survive, then inevitably, it would have to change.

The arrival of the new units at the trap sites gave it some most excellent basis material on what it might evolve into, and the entity's ongoing study of science and magic could easily provide the 'how' of that evolution. The 'why' had already been proven, which left only when, and where.

*And perhaps,* Proteus thought in a flash of inspiration, *'who.'*

While Makoto and Setsuna prepared dinner, the others listened as Rei recounted her dream from the night of the blizzard. She included the fairy-tale opening, but left out the disturbing search through the boxes at the end; somehow, that part felt intensely personal, and Rei knew it would be a while yet before she could talk about it with anyone, even Usagi.

More than once as they ate, the question of what to do with Gladius came up. The Book was no problem—it would fit right in with all the scrolls and sacred texts at Hikawa—but a five-foot stone broadsword would definitely attract some comment. Nor was it just something they could stuff in a back closet somewhere and forget about. As Luna and Artemis explained, Gladius had certain... quirks. Much like Usagi's crystal, the stone sword possessed a sort of awareness; nothing so complex or powerful as the ginzuishou, of course, but it was still there. Given the right conditions, it was entirely possible that the thing might 'wake up' and go off on its own. Only Usagi and the two cats had any idea of how to deal with such a development, and since there was simply too much traffic in the Tsukino household to hide something the size of the sword for very long, it went to Minako by default.

"What am _I_ supposed to do with this thing?" she protested. "I can barely lift it!" That was true. As Venus—or Sailor V—she could carry the massive weapon without too much trouble, but plain old Minako did not have the magical strength of her alter egos.

"Just keep it somewhere out of sight," Usagi told her. "But not so far that Artemis can't get to it if it starts doing something weird."

"And how do you suggest I get it home in the first place?"

"Wait about half an hour," Makoto suggested. "It'll be dark enough by then that you can leave as Venus."

Minako gave Makoto a wounded look. "I'm _terribly_ disappointed in you, Mako-chan." She sighed dramatically, throwing her hands in the air. "Fine, I give up, I'll take the stupid sword. But I want one thing clear right now; if anything goes wrong, it is _not_ my fault. Got it?"

"Sure," Usagi agreed. "Just blame Artemis."

"Hey!"

"Oh," Usagi added, ignoring the indignant white cat, "don't cut yourself on the blade, either; the stone's poisonous if it gets into your bloodstream."

Minako looked at the sword, then somehow managed to glare at Usagi and the two cats together. "Got any other good news you wanted to share with me?"

For a moment, Usagi was tempted to start telling Minako about herself—her old self, Ishtar. Then she thought better of it; some of what she remembered about the Venusian incarnation of her friend was amusing, but there was always the chance that once Minako knew, she might start to act like her old self. Something like this had happened to Usagi after Serenity had been reawakened, little bits of Princessly behavior slipping across the gaps of time and space and spirit to change Usagi, so it was very likely that the same could hold true for any of the others.

Life and Minako both were crazy enough already without setting Ishtar—or anyone else from the past—loose again.

After Archon's disappearance, she had wasted no time in setting up for a summoning ritual.

It was a much longer rite than the original one which had backfired and brought Archon to her. Perhaps it was more accurate to say that the original summoning had been much shorter; the spell she was weaving now had the correct intonations and commands, the proper gestures to insure her total control over what would eventually manifest itself, whereas her first attempt had been a dangerous and nearly disastrous failure.

Then too, there were differences in her objective. That first attempt had been made when she was angry, so driven to see HER suffer, but also so consumed by her emotions that the specific details of the magic had escaped her. The creature unleashed by such a spell would have struck fast, and struck to kill; that, she now realized, would have been too easy.

No, tonight's endeavor was an experiment. A test, to examine her own control over the magic, and the limitations imposed upon it by whatever unnamed force was protecting HER. The creature she called tonight would not be as powerful as the first one, and it would be very tightly bound. Tonight, her goal was fear—that, and a little bit of pain.

The sun had gone down by the time she was done, which only seemed appropriate as the magic took shape within the warding circle. The patch of floor within the slender silver chain she had laid out grew dark and distorted before seeming to vanish altogether; what was left behind was not a hole—for a hole in the floor would have revealed the apartment below hers—but rather, a breach. An impossibility in the order of the natural world, given shape by magic to form one end of what could, in a certain sense, be considered a tunnel. A tunnel from the familiar, visible world to a world unseen, a world infinitely far away and at the same time, impossibly close to this one. It was an evil, alien place, hostile to all things not of itself, cruel and destructive beyond human understanding of the words.

And now something from that place was coming through.

It was, in a word, dark. No definite physical substance or shape, only a patch of shifting blackness which radiated a cold aura of awareness. A shiver ran through her as the edge of that awareness brushed against her own mind and the defenses surrounding it, pushing at the chains of magic which bound it, searching for a weakness that could earn freedom—and finding no such break. The spell was complete; the creature withdrew its probe, knowing it must serve.

-Why do you call me?—The voice was disembodied, every bit as chilling as the touch of this being's mind, but instead of fear, it provoked a small thrill of satisfaction. Dark and otherworldly and dangerous it might be—but it was hers to command.

"I have a little job for you."

Hotaru looked up from the television screen, feeling a sudden chill wash over her. It was, she realized with a flash of worry, a very familiar sensation, something she had experienced both directly and indirectly, something she had prayed desperately would never happen again. The first time had been a simple mistake; the last, a deliberate catastrophe. And in between, dozens of intentional mistakes. None of it should ever have happened, but it had. And now it felt like it was about to happen again.

Someone had unleashed a daimon.

Old, bad memories drifted out of the shadows of her mind. The accident in her father's lab... pain, followed by a brief, peaceful nothingness, then a kind of light that was somehow dark, and a voice so incredibly cold... and then, years of existence that were not really living, forced to share her body with the thing that had killed her and then brought her back. Day by day, she had seen her father and his assistants gradually twisted into dark mockeries of the good people they had been, their work perverted and used to create hideous, unnatural things. Each night, she had dreamed dreams that were not her own and then woken up screaming when she saw the world die and heard a part of herself laughing, rejoicing in the death, the cold, the Silence...

"Ami! Get your computer out, now!"

Everyone in the room blinked and then stared. "What..." Michiru started to say.

"DO IT!" Hotaru screamed.

Ami hesitated a moment longer, partly out of shock, partly because she remembered her failed attempt to transform and wondered if it also applied to accessing her computer. Then she reached into that other place where the computer went when she wasn't using it... and drew it out. The little device was scanning the instant she flipped it open, and before she had a chance to ask Hotaru what was going on, the computer's powerful sensors picked up something. Something which set off a warning alarm and returned a readout Ami hadn't seen in almost two years.

"It's a... I'm reading... there's a daimon out there."

"That's impossible," Haruka said flatly.

"Isn't it?" ChibiUsa added nervously. "I mean, Mistress Nine, the Pharaoh 90... they're dead, aren't they? Luna? Artemis?"

"I know _I_ sure thought so," Artemis mumbled. "Luna?"

Luna didn't answer for a moment. Something unpleasant was pushing forward from her refreshed memories. "It... it might just be another monster... but..."

"Whatever it is," Ami interrupted, "it's getting closer."

"Not for long," Hotaru said darkly. She was across the room and halfway out the door before she even started to transform.

"Hotaru!" Michiru shouted. "What are you doing?"

Saturn turned, and most of them felt their stomachs flip over slightly at the expression on her childlike face. "I'm going to kill it, Michiru-mama." Her voice was cold, and the child's term of affection only made the statement that much more disturbing. Then she was gone.

"Wait up!" ChibiUsa called, following her friend out the door.

"Michiru, Haruka," Usagi said immediately, "go after them. Ami can guide you from here. Everyone else stays put."

"But..." Makoto started to object.

"No arguments." Usagi looked up at the older girls. "What are you two waiting for? Get going!"

The daimon coursed through the night air, reveling in the sensation of being free in this world of weak beings. For any creature whose nature was rooted in hate and spite, an opportunity like this—to walk in the world of mortals, to torment and terrorize beings without the power to fight back—was sweet beyond compare. The only bitterness it tasted came from the fact that this freedom was, like all others, destined to be short, and rigidly enforced by the power of the one that had summoned it. So be it; even a little freedom was better than none at all.

The longer it remained in this world, the more the daimon felt its body changing to conform with the rules and substance surrounding it. Where before there had been only a patch of floating darkness, there was now a lean, powerful body, set atop double-jointed legs which ended in wide, taloned feet. Long arms dragged down past its bizarre, newly-formed knees, arms upon which broad, many-fingered hands ended in razor sharp claws. Burning red eyes took shape in a gruesome face crowned by back-curling horns that reached almost to its broad shoulders, while dozens of glittering fangs decorated the distended, slime-drooling maw below those eyes. A long mane of fiery hair erupted from the unhealthy green-grey flesh of skull and shoulders and back, followed by solitary tufts on the forearms and legs. In its chest, as something that served the same general purpose as the muscle humans called a heart began to beat, the daimon felt a wild exhilaration. And as its awareness settled into a newly-solidified form, it recalled a word, a name the human-things had given it on its last foray, so very long ago.

"BEASTALUS!" The daimon threw back its almost-human head and roared its name to the stars.

Saturn heard the howl of inhuman exaltation and changed direction to close with the source. An ordinary human would have been half-blind in the blend of night darkness and city lights, but her eyes—Senshi eyes—could see fine in almost any weather, any condition of light or dark.

Those eyes glowed dark violet now, seeing not only the light and dark and the shadows in between, but the life and death all around. Through walls and ceilings, around corners, in all directions, she could see the bright glow of life; human, animal, even the vitality of the plants as they slept away the winter months.

And there, up ahead, was a reverse light, a life that was death, a being not of this world. The daimon.

Pieces of those grim memories flashed in front of her eyes: her father, his face twisted into a cold, inhuman smile; her nightmares—or Mistress Nine's dreams—of a Silenced world; her friend, ChibiUsa, laying cold and still and almost dead...

*Not again,* she swore. *Never again.*

She ran faster.

The daimon paused in its advance. The unseen chains placed on it by the ritual of summons tried to pull it ahead, but something in its own nature held the terrible creature steady as its newly-acquired senses detected a presence.

A figure touched down on the other end of the roof upon which Beastalus stood. The daimon extended its senses and felt a strange anomaly in this thing which stood in the shadow of a wall. Physical senses of sight and scent told it this was another female human-thing, but without the protection of the magic of the one that had called it. Other senses, though, senses rooted not in the daimon's earthly body but in its supernatural essence and otherworldly origin, told it that something far different from a human stood before it. It was surrounded by a field of dark force, a power much like its own. Another daimon, perhaps?

Beastalus snarled. It did not want to share the pleasure of this mission with another. Roaring a challenge to this interloper, Beastalus lowered its horned head and charged.

Seconds later, cement and brick exploded as the daimon's thick skull burst through the wall behind its enemy. Not even dazed from the impact, Beastalus tore itself free with another roar and a shower of dust, seeking the other being. It was on the other side of the roof, now, waiting.

The daimon essence was very clever, but in assuming solid form, it had been forced to expend much of its mental energy into projecting the power and savagery of Beastalus. This left the creature with little in the way of an actual intellect, but what brain power it still possessed was bright enough to suspect that another charge would probably fail as well. So instead, it turned, seized the edge of the hole in the wall, and pulled, monstrous muscles rippling as a great chunk of brick was torn away. Hefting the jagged slab of plaster and concrete with ease and a toothy grin even a shark might envy, Beastalus hurled the crude projectile at the other being.

The human-thing moved, waving something in its hand, and the mass of brick vanished in mid-flight, swallowed up by a weird ripple in the air. Beastalus paused, fairly certain that this was not what was supposed to happen.

"WORLD SHAKING!"

Beastalus had hardly begun to turn when it was blown off its feet and then clear through the wall by some half-seen attack. Roaring furiously as it tore its way back onto the battlefield, the daimon looked in the direction from which the attack had originated. Three more female human-things that its other senses said were somehow more than human stood atop the next roof. These did not feel like daimons.

The smallest of the human-things began to speak. "All right, dog face, you've had your fun; now it's time to go back to the kennel! I am Sailor ChibiMoon, and in the name of the Moon, I'll punish you!"

*She's her mother's daughter, all right,* Uranus thought, trying not to laugh.

After a moment of confusion, Beastalus roared and leapt to the attack. The three Senshi scattered as the creature's heavy claws sank through the roof where they had been standing. Neptune came out of a backwards jump with the words to her Deep Submerge attack already forming, and Beastalus was blasted from the roof by the surging force of the water. Uranus hit the monster while it was still in the air, jumping up from beneath and driving one elbow into its belly as she brought one knee up into its back. Beastalus roared again as it fell, this time in pain.

"Uranus!" ChibiMoon shouted. "Get clear!" Looking down, the Outer Senshi saw that the younger girl had removed her tiara and now held a golden disc of energy. Never having seen the infamous Moon tiara in action, Uranus had no idea what the kid was up to, but she got clear anyway, giving Beastalus a well-placed kick to the ribs in the process.

"It's all yours!"

"Okay," ChibiMoon said to herself. "Remember what Usagi said: hold on the fingertips, not in the hand; balance on the opposite foot; throw from the shoulder... here goes... MOON TIARA ACTION!"

In the middle of hauling itself back to its misshapen feet, Beastalus heard a high-pitched, whistling buzz. It whirled about, blood-red eyes widening in surprise as the deadly projectile shot in and sank deeply into—through—its torso.

"HHHHHRRRRRRAAAAAAARRRRRRRR!"

"I _got_ it? I GOT IT!" ChibiMoon jumped into the air with a cheer. "Yes, yes, YES! Did you see it?! I GOT IT! Oh, wait 'till Diana hears about this! I actually..."

"HHHHHRRRRRRAAAAAAARRRRRRRR!" The second earsplitting roar destroyed ChibiMoon's moment of jubilation. Beastalus was still standing, one taloned hand covering a gaping wound in its belly, a wound which not only bled a vile, greenish substance that smoked when it hit the roof, but which also spit forth twisting coils of black energy. The monster's thick mane was sticking up as if its entire body were charged with electricity, and when it opened its mouth again, it was not to roar, but to spit forth a crackling beam of energy. Off- balance from her throw, ChibiMoon tried to jump, tripped over her own feet, and fell backwards, the hostile energy practically in her face...

"SILENT WALL."

At what felt like the last possible second, the daimon's blazing attack was swallowed up by a shield of violet-dark energy. Through that shield, ChibiMoon could see the monster blink in surprise and turn to face Saturn. The thing's head turned slightly as the other two Senshi landed behind it.

"SPACE SWORD BLASTER!"

"DEEP SUBMERGE!"

The attacks of any Senshi needed only a heartbeat to take shape and play themselves out, but as fast as her adoptive family were, Saturn was even faster. The shield which had just saved ChibiMoon from the daimon's attack now shifted shape and size and center, becoming a dome which encircled Beastalus and Saturn and swallowed the incoming attacks like they had never been.

"Wait!" ChibiMoon called, scrambling to her feet. "What are you doing? Why..." A hand came down on her shoulder, stopping her, and ChibiMoon looked up at Neptune, who quietly shook her head before turning her attention to the sealed-off area.

"ChibiMoon?" Ami's voice came from the communicator. "Neptune? Uranus? What's going on?"

"Not sure," Uranus reported back. "Hang on."

Within the dome, Beastalus narrowed its eyes, puzzled. Another daimon would not have protected it like this, but neither would one of the human- things. Turning to the strange not-daimon, more-than-human creature, Beastalus looked closely with every sense at its disposal, trying to figure out what this being was. A moment later, it took a step backwards, singeing the ends of its heavy mane on the inner edge of the shield.

"Ssssat-urrrrn," the daimon hissed, showing real fear for the first time as it recognized its opponent and understood just how much trouble it was in.

Eyes blazing like dark suns, Saturn nodded. "I thought you might recognize me. Are you one of Pharaoh 90's spawn?"

Beastalus snarled but did not reply. Saturn frowned, and cords of energy shot out of the dome, wrapping around the daimon. Where the cords touched, the daimon began to cease to exist, but the energy pulled away so quickly that the monster's unnatural healing repaired the damage before it became critical. And then the cords touched down again, not burning or tearing, but _erasing_ strips of hide and flesh.

Beastalus screamed.

"Answer me!" Saturn shouted. "Did you work for Pharaoh 90?"

"No!" Beastalus shrieked, its distorted mouth mangling the words. "Beastalussss not of Pharrrraoh! Pharrrraoh dead! All dead! Beastalussss sssserrrrvessss othhhher! Othhhher!"

"Who, then? Answer!" The cords bit deeper, and the monster howled with new intensity.

"Ghrim-Bane! Ghrim-Bane! Beastalussss serves Ghrim-Bane!"

Saturn let the cords loosen. "Did this... Ghrim-Bane... send you?"

"No! Beastalussss wassss ssssummoned! Human-thing callssss Beastalussss!" In its eagerness to avoid the flaying touch of the dark cords, the daimon could hardly speak fast enough. "Ssssendssss Beastalussss to hunt female human-thing. Not find!" the daimon added hastily, seeing the cold fires in Saturn's eyes roar up at the mention of a human victim. "Not find!"

"Who? Who called you? Who were they sending you after?"

"Beastalussss doessss not know! No name! No name!"

"Tell me!" Saturn demanded, bringing the cords down again.

"Not know!" Beastalus shrieked, collapsing into a pile on the rooftop in a vain effort to shield itself.

"You're lying!" Saturn half-screamed. When it made no reply, she turned up the intensity; the daimon's howl was terrible.

"Saturn!" Neptune shouted. "Stop it! Let it go!" Neptune had never thought she would feel sorry for one of these monsters, but what this thing was being forced to endure was ghastly; worse, though, was the chill indifference with which Saturn conducted the interrogation.

Saturn looked at Neptune, and for a moment, did not appear to recognize her. Then the fire in her eyes went down, and the cutting energy disappeared, leaving a wretched, whimpering hulk huddled on the rooftop, slashed and bleeding and surrounded by streamers of smoke as its corrosive blood melted into the cement.

"Listen to me very carefully," Saturn said, squeezing her eyes shut as she addressed the daimon. "I want you to deliver a message to the rest of your kind. Tell them—all of them, wherever it is that you things come from—that if even one more of you comes here, I'll come after all of you. Do you understand me? LEAVE. US. ALONE."

"Beastalussss... undersssstandssss..."

Saturn looked at the cowering thing a moment longer, then let the shield down and began to walk unsteadily towards her friends.

The daimon moved faster than should have been possible. Its body was ragged; great tears in the skin and muscle, pieces of horn missing, weird lines cut through its thick mane. But many of its teeth were intact, and it still had most of its claws—and these it extended as it leapt for Saturn's unprotected back with a howl of triumph.

Before anyone else could move, there was a muffled explosion, and then Beastalus staggered backwards, staring stupidly at the razor-sharp head of the Silence Glaive, which protruded from its broad chest. Its body already beginning to dissolve into lifeless dust, the daimon looked up at Saturn, whose face was once again emotionless.

"Give my regards to Mistress Nine," she said coldly. Then the last spark of its unnatural life fled, severed and swallowed up by the gleaming blade, and Beastalus ceased to exist. The Silence Glaive clanged as it fell, leaving Saturn to stare at it and the fading pile of dust around it for a long time.

Neptune stepped forward in silence. "Saturn?"

She blinked and looked up when Neptune touched her arm. "M-Michiru? I didn't... I didn't mean to... to hurt it like that, I just wanted to... I needed to know if..."

"Shhhh," Neptune said, drawing the younger girl into a gentle embrace.

"I'm not like them," Saturn whispered fiercely. "I won't be like them. I can't let them make me be like them." She repeated these words over and over again. Being forced to wield the power of death and destruction was a heavy burden on its own, but the thought that she might begin to delve into the darker applications of that power, that she might _enjoy_ the horrible things it would allow her to do, was one of Saturn's worst nightmares. This was not the first time Neptune had heard such a frightened prayer. She suspected it would not be the last.

"I know, Firefly. I know." Even the use of the familiar nickname failed to calm Saturn; she did not cry, but her entire body shook, and she clung to her foster-mother like a rock in a storm.

"All I know," ChibiMoon said after a minute, looking at her tiara with a mix of disgust and disappointment, "is that either somebody's been buying second-hand tiaras, or Luna and Mama lied to me when they described what this thing could do."

Neptune could have smacked the girl, but the comment made Saturn laugh weakly.

"It's not funny!" ChibiMoon protested, although a faint glitter in her eye suggested this was exactly what she had hoped would happen. "I could have been seriously hurt because of substandard merchandise! I'll sue! I don't know who and I don't know how, but in the name of the Moon, _somebody_ is going to pay for this!" She looked up into the sky. "Do you hear me?"

Saturn was spluttering and probably would have fallen over if Neptune hadn't been holding her up. Neptune sighed and glanced over at Uranus, whose features were locked in the same rueful exasperation she knew to be covering her own face.

Evidently, they still had a lot to learn about being parents.

The daimon's last anguished howl trailed away into eternity as the fabric of the spell unraveled. The girl staggered backwards at the stinging lash of power as the portal to the daimon's home realm snapped shut.

She screamed, furious. She had followed the daimon's progress with the tracking illusion, watching it cross the city and draw ever closer to her selected target. And then, still blocks from its objective, the creature had stopped, and the entire tracking spell had failed! And now the creature was dead; not just defeated and driven back to its own realm, but dead!

All that she had to guess the identity of whatever had slain the creature were vague thoughts, lifted from the daimon's mind via a tenuous mental link her spell had established between them. That part of the magic, she was still having problems with; otherwise, she would have been able to see what the daimon saw, hear what it heard, and direct it as clearly from a distance as if she were right next to it. No such clarity had been formed, but from the daimon's crude and simplistic thoughts of 'female human-things' that were somehow more than human, she had a pretty good idea as to what had interfered.

*Make that 'who,'* she decided grimly. *This could be a problem.*

"So where did it come from, then?" Minako asked.

The Senshi were once again gathered in Makoto's living room. Hotaru sat on the larger couch, hugging her knees up under her chin, with Michiru to her right and ChibiUsa to her left. Haruka was sitting on the armrest beyond Michiru, while Setsuna had taken the footstool. Usagi sat in the armchair, Rei on the floor at her feet, and Ami and Ryo shared the smaller couch. Minako was pacing back and forth in front of the balcony. Luna and Artemis shared the table—she sitting upright, he curled up and half-asleep—Gladius was leaning against the wall in one corner, and the Book of Ages was on the floor next to Rei. Makoto was standing in the doorway between living room and kitchen, listening to the others while keeping an eye on supper.

"I'd like to know that myself," Michiru agreed. "We went back through the Death Busters' place and destroyed every daimon egg we could find, along with all the equipment and notes they used to create the things in the first place." She glanced at Setsuna, then added, "Pluto said that we'd gotten all of them, and _that_ was almost two years ago. If that thing was lying, if it _was_ one of theirs, how could it have survived this long without us knowing about it? And if it wasn't lying, then who or what else could have possibly created it?"

"You're assuming that daimons are created at all, Michiru," Luna pointed out. "They're not. Not like the rest of the creatures you've fought, at least."

"What do you mean?"

Luna took a deep breath. "The Dark Kingdom created youma by twisting the life energy of humans, plants, and animals, and the lemures of the Dead Moon Circus were similar. The alien cardians and the Black Moon droids were all created from inanimate objects, infused with energy of one kind or another to give them a semblance of life, and Galaxia's animamates were evil versions of people that could have—who _should_ have—been our allies. The daimons were different; their bodies were created, but the energy which drove them wasn't from this world at all."

"Ail and Ann were aliens," Usagi countered. "So were Galaxia and her bunch."

Luna shook her head. "I'm not talking about other planets, Usagi, or even other galaxies. The core essence of the daimons originated from a completely alternate universe, with its own unique rules of existence. Probably not a very pleasant universe, either," Luna added, "based on what we've seen of the natives."

"Hell?" Haruka asked, sounding a little skeptical.

"It's as good a name as any, I suppose." Luna frowned. "I don't know the specifics, but ancient wizards found ways to push through the barriers which separate our reality from others; they could travel to another universe, or bring its objects and creatures back into ours. Whatever it was that Professor Tomoe was experimenting with originally must have duplicated the effects of an old summoning ritual and let Mistress Nine into our world."

"I'm not so sure about that, Luna," Hotaru disagreed. "Sometimes, in her... my dreams, I got a sense of wandering. Through space. Then she saw or felt something in Papa's experiments, and..."

"I suppose it's possible she came across on her own," Luna admitted. "I remember reading about it happening once or twice, a very long time ago."

"Wait a minute," Rei objected. "If Mistress Nine was able to come here on her own, then what was all that trouble about the heart crystals and the Grail for? Why didn't Pharaoh 90 just step across on its own?"

"It couldn't. Moving from one reality to another is a very difficult thing," Luna explained. "Lesser creatures like the daimons don't have enough intelligence or energy to do it, but beings as powerful as Pharaoh 90 have too _much_ power; they're too much a concentration of the rules and properties of their own universe to leave it behind. _But,_ if someone on _this_ side were to start changing the nature of our universe, making it more like the reality of Pharaoh 90, then the barrier between worlds would have been weakened enough for it to enter our universe."

"If that was all it needed," ChibiUsa said, confused, "why didn't Mistress Nine just..." She made a sort of explosive motion with her hands while silently mouthing the word 'BOOM.'

"She couldn't do it on her own," Hotaru replied softly. "Her natural form couldn't interact with our reality on the kind of level she needed to call Pharaoh 90. That's what she needed Papa for... and me."

"And she needed a very specific power source in order to control the power of Saturn," Luna added. "But if Mistress Nine had left Hotaru's body to conduct the search in person, Hotaru would have died, and Saturn would have disappeared for another generation. So she had the Professor design all those devices to locate and steal heart crystals, while binding the spirits of lesser daimons into bodies native to this world. If you girls hadn't been taking out the daimons as fast as they were being turned loose, eventually there would have been enough of them here to tip the balance of forces and let Pharaoh 90 free even without Saturn."

"That's an unpleasant thought," Minako noted, shivering. "Anyway, we've gotten sidewalked here. Luna, you said people used to use magic to call daimons. Since all the Death Busters' research was trashed, I suppose that means this latest creep was brought here by magic?"

Luna nodded. "It would almost have to have been. Despite the mistakes he made, Professor Tomoe was something of a genius; I don't think anyone could duplicate his work on their own. The problem, though, is that the kind of magic necessary for that sort of summoning was outlawed a long time ago—just like the designs for a mana nexus." Luna glanced out the window. "Whoever's out there now, they know an awful lot about things that were supposed to have been forgotten forever."

There was a silence. "Speaking of knowing things," Ami said suddenly, "if that daimon really wasn't associated with the Death Busters or Pharaoh 90, then how did it recognize Saturn? And for that matter," she added, looking at Hotaru, "how did you know it was out there in the first place?"

"I'm not sure," Hotaru admitted.

"You were walking around with Mistress Nine inside you for a long time," Luna pointed out gently. "You've probably built up a sensitivity to her kind of energy because of that. As for the daimon itself... well, that has to do with Saturn. The planet, I mean."

"Oh?"

Luna looked around. "Did any of you ever stop to wonder why Pluto is the Senshi of Time and Saturn the Senshi of Destruction when their planets are classically associated with each other's power?"

There were some blank looks. "Greco-Roman mythology," Ryo said. "The Roman god Saturn was the counterpart to the Greek Titan, Chronos, who is associated with time; Pluto corresponds to Hades, the Greek god of the underworld and the lord of the dead."

"Thanks for the history lesson," Haruka said dryly. From his seat, Ryo made a sort of half-bow.

"Knock it off," Ami muttered. Then she raised her voice. "Go on, Luna. You were saying?"

"Like I said, it has to do with Saturn. More precisely, it has to do with the planet's location in space and time. It's directly on top of what you might called an interdimensional intersection, a place where those different realities I mentioned before all brush up against each other, and where their different rules tend to overlap and cancel each other out. Once upon a time, it was possible to use the unique warping of reality to travel to any location, in any dimension, at any time."

"So what happened?" Minako asked.

"An experiment." Luna scratched behind her left ear for a moment. "You see, Saturn wasn't an entirely reliable means of travel. The same blending of rules which made it so useful also made magic, science, and even time tend to act in odd ways; if you entered the warp, you could never be entirely certain where or when you'd come out. A lot of people studied Saturn for a long time, and eventually, they decided they were ready to try and create a smaller, more stable method of moving through space-time."

"The Time Gate?" half a dozen voices guessed simultaneously.

"Exactly. The effort to create it was focused on Pluto, for three reasons. The first was that Pluto is one of the smallest planets, and the second was its distance from the sun. Both of these factors make local gravity fairly minor and relatively constant in comparison with some of the other planets, which means that the planet's local curving of space-time is easier to predict and monitor. You see..."

"Uh, Luna?" Ami interrupted.

"What?" Ami glanced meaningfully around the room; Luna followed the look, and noticed that other than Ami, Michiru, Ryo, and—somewhat surprisingly— Setsuna, her audience was starting to get that glazed-eyes look of confusion. She sighed, then summed up: "Pluto is a good place for conducting experiments in time travel."

"What was the third reason?" Minako asked.

"It's a stray ball of ice on the far edge of known space," Luna said. "Nobody ever went there, so it was ideal for secrecy."

"And if something went wrong and the Gate blew up," Setsuna added, "nobody would care what happened to the neighborhood."

"That too," Luna admitted. "That was why Pluto was associated with death, originally; it's cold, dark, and completely hostile to life as we know it. And that's why Senshi Pluto's primary attack is the Dead Scream; she channels the negative energy that still surrounds the planet."

"And Saturn?" Hotaru asked.

"I'm getting to that. Obviously, the experiments with the Time Gate worked, but everyone had conveniently forgotten to consider what the creation of a new space-time warp would do to the existing one at Saturn. It basically went crazy."

"How so?"

"Originally, the blending of realities was a fairly constant thing. It changed from time to time, but only very gradually, so there was a fair degree of safety even if you did get lost. After the Time Gate was built, the warp at Saturn accelerated to the point where the shifting of the various dimensions happened completely at random, too fast to follow. As a result, anyone and anything that gets too close is torn apart and scattered into a million different universes." Luna's face was grave. "Naturally, nothing could survive such an experience. And since the power of a Senshi is drawn from her planet, the power of Saturn changed to match the deadly new nature of her world—chaotic and tremendously strong. That was when it was decided to seal the power of Saturn away, not to be used except in times of the most dire emergency. The Time Gate was transported into the mists at the end of time for the same reasons, and the then-current Pluto was given the Time Key and charged with preventing misuse of the Gate."

"You mean Setsuna wasn't always Pluto?" ChibiUsa asked in surprise.

"She was during the entire Silver Millennium. I'm not sure who her predecessors were, though, or what happened to them."

"And how does all that explain how a daimon knew who Saturn was?" Makoto asked.

"One of the few times a Senshi of Saturn was activated was during a massive incursion of daimons around five thousand years ago. She stopped them in our universe and then went after them in their own, using the warp at Saturn." Luna smiled faintly. "I'd imagine that the survivors made sure their descendants would remember her."

"Which was part of the reason why Mistress Nine wanted to destroy Earth," Hotaru said. "Not just because it was here, but for revenge. And getting me to do it would have been the perfect payback for what Saturn did to the daimons."

"Pretty much."

"Terrific," Usagi grumbled, ticking items off on her fingers. "Fungus monsters, annoying letters from beyond, forbidden magical devices, and now daimons, too." She sighed. "Well, unless somebody knows where we can rent an army on short notice, I'd say about all we can do for now is stay on our toes, keep up the patrols, and wait for the other side to make their next move."

"Agreed."

"And now that that's been decided," Usagi said, turning to Makoto and grinning, "what's for dinner?"

SAILOY SAYS:

(the girls are all sitting or standing around on stage, reading lines and preparing for the last segment)

Rei: Anybody got any idea of what the moral's supposed to be this time? (various negative replies) Didn't think so.

Minako: Shouldn't you be trying to figure out how to get that Book open?

Rei: I'll get around to it, but we need a moral right now. (the screen fizzles into static, then comes back) What the heck was that? (another mess of static; Rei looks off to her left) Ami, what's going on?

Ami (leaning in from the side of the screen, wearing a headset with a microphone attached): Something's interfering with the signal! I'm trying to track it... (static becomes overwhelming, then clears to reveal Queen Serenity in the computer chamber)

Queen Serenity: Is this thing on? Am I getting through? Oh, good. Sorry to hijack the signal like that, but they seemed to be having some trouble. A good possibility for a moral is that the present and the future are profoundly influenced by the past. Young Ryo's unease on the Moon as a result of the youma memories he retains is one such example; my daughter's flashback is another, as it and all the other memories she and her friends carry of their former lives will help to shape their actions. The unleashing of the daimon is also such a case, not just because creatures like it have made trouble before and had a profound impact on the lives of the Senshi, but also because of the mysterious young spellcaster's deep resent of events in her own past, which led her to summon the beast in the first place. The past is, quite simply, too important to ignore. (she smiles ruefully) Although, as Luna has shown, it's also all too easy to forget.

Luna (human form, frowning): I heard that, Serenity.

Queen Serenity: Good.

(Usagi storms in)

Usagi: Mother! What are you _doing?!_

Queen Serenity: Just passing the time, dear one. You don't mind if I have a little fun now and then, do you?

Usagi: Well, I suppose not... but you could have asked, first.

Ikuko: You never do.

(Usagi freaks)

Usagi: Mom?! How did _you_ get up here?! (runs at the camera) Hold it! Cut! Cut! Stop filming! (camera falls over with a loud crash, screen goes black)

Ikuko: Was she this clumsy when you raised her?

Queen Serenity: You have _no_ idea...

02/06/00 (Revised as of 15/08/02)

I'd imagine most of you want to know why I had to go and drag the daimons back into this. Well, spirits and otherworldly entities are a pretty major part of established fantasy, and since I do have a bunch of evil wizards running around, they're going to end up summoning things. Of all the monsters, the daimons are the best suited to making a summons-related return; the word is an old Greco-Roman term for a household spirit, sort of a personal mini-god. (I did well in Ancient History. Sue me.)

Youma, if I read my Japanese dictionary correctly, means something like 'undead,' which is okay, but I've always held the opinion that a single daimon could make lunchmeat out of a half-dozen of its Dark Kingdom counterparts. The animamates were people who'd been 'turned to the dark side,' while everyone knows that 'droid' is short for android, a mechanical being. Now, lemures might have been okay—lemure is Latin for 'ghost,' as opposed to lemur, which is a monkey—but the Dead Moon Circus are the biggest bunch of goofy monsters I've ever seen, and Nehelenia already came back once anyway. The cardians were a nogo from the start, since that would have involved bringing back Ail and Ann.

Hope that clears it up.

In the future:
-Some odd things start happening;
-Our 'shadow council' gets a little less shadowy;
-I am going to get to February if it kills me!