Clad in her green pajamas and standard-issue morning funk, Makoto leaned against the kitchen counter and waited while the coffee pot bubbled and gurgled. Being empathic had not improved her typical waking attitude; if anything, being able to tell how cheerful or grumpy other people felt only seemed to make Makoto’s own mood worse.

Having gotten a mere four hours of sleep wasn’t helping either, which was sort of the whole point in brewing the coffee.

Artemis trudged in. Just as being empathic had not done anything to improve Makoto’s morning mood, so had once again being able to assume human form failed to make Artemis any quicker after a good night’s sleep. His hair was tangled in places and severely cow-licked, his eyes were only about half-open, and even his magically-conjured clothes looked bad—which was to say, they looked slept-in, mussed-up, worn-out, and beaten-down.

“Morning,” Makoto said.

Artemis grunted something vague, glanced at the coffee pot, and ‘mmph’-ed something just as obscure. Makoto didn’t speak cat, but the unique language of the morning grump was well within her understanding.

“Not quite yet,” Makoto replied. “Give it a few minutes.”

This time, the noise was more of an ‘urmph’. Artemis rested his elbows on the counter and buried his face in his hands, muttering, “I’d forgotten what it could be like to wake up as a human some mornings.”

“Are you saying that cats don’t wake up grungy?”

“Oh, we can be _very_ grungy if we want to. We just feel bad in different ways. For example,” Artemis said, smacking his lips in a show of tasting something unpleasant, “_what_ is this gods-awful taste I have in my mouth?”

“In my experience, it’s usually the last three things you had to eat or drink the night before.”

“Which would make what I’m tasting now tea, biscuits, and tuna,” Artemis finished, sighing. “What a wonderful way to start the day.”

“You just couldn’t wait to try a can of tuna fish in human form, huh?”

“You say that like I had a choice. I’ve had to rely on Mina-chan to open cans for me for most of the last five years, and even with her parents thrown in, there have been times when I’ve had to go days without a decent meal.” He held up his hands and actually managed to smile. “No more.”

Makoto didn’t respond to that right away. The murk in her head was going to make what she wanted to say tricky to get right, and she had to work at it for a moment.

“Artemis,” she began carefully, “listen. About Mina-chan...”

“What about her?” he yawned, brushing hair back from his face. Makoto just looked at him—at _him_—and pretty soon, Artemis got the message. “Oh. Uh... yeah. _This_. I guess it would... uh... sort of put a strain on the old working relationship.”

He chuckled humorlessly, after which the kitchen was silent except for the gurgling of the coffee machine. Then he glanced at Makoto. “Did she... that is... did she say anything last night?”

Makoto shook her head and started pouring coffee. “Not about you. She talked about lots of other things before she finally fell asleep, but she didn’t mention you once”—Artemis made a face; with Minako, that was one of the two strongest possible indications that she was uncomfortable with the subject—“and when Rei and I tried to steer the conversation in that direction, she ignored us.”

And that was the other; if Minako wouldn’t talk about him _and_ feigned deafness when someone else tried to mention him, she was well and truly spooked. He said as much to Makoto, who nodded sadly.

“She covered it up pretty well, but yeah, that was my impression, too.” Makoto handed Artemis a cup of coffee, took a sip from her own cup, and then turned it around in her hands. “Artemis... how do _you_ feel about all of this?”

Artemis considered that question for a while. He thought about how good— how _complete_—he felt now that he could remember his own life again, free of the moments of blurry confusion and blank forgetfulness that had been brought on by ten centuries in suspended animation. He thought of his life on the Moon, days spent training first the guards and then the Senshi, nights spent at parties, moving freely among people who didn’t care whether he was a cat or a man. Entire decades spent chasing patiently after Luna without ever successfully catching her, years of watching as the children who were his students grew up and became his friends.

He thought about Ishtar, who, with her typical Venusian candor, had told him on more than one occasion that she thought he was very handsome—among other things—but who had also never treated him as anything more or less than a friend, and who would never have dreamed of interfering with his pursuit of Luna anyway. Ishtar, who could have had any man she wanted with just a smile, but who would settle for nothing less than real love before giving anything more of herself than just that smile. And a few kisses. Ishtar had been very fond of—and very good at—displaying her affection with kisses.

He thought about Minako, who was like Ishtar in so many ways, particularly that one. No matter how often—or loudly—Minako complained about not having a boyfriend, she would not for one second consider pursuing a relationship just for the sake of having the relationship; if real love wasn’t involved, then there wasn’t any point no matter how cute the guy might be. And with that weird love-sensing ability she’d picked up and then honed to the proverbial razor’s edge, Minako could always tell if there was love in a relationship or not.

After almost five years, Artemis had to admit that his feelings for Minako were strong enough to be considered love, even if they weren’t of the romantic variety. Minako confided in Artemis when she was worried or scared, talked to him when she had problems she couldn’t solve; he understood Minako better than anyone but Usagi, and he knew things about her that not even Usagi was privy to.

Now he was human, with a form that Minako had no choice but to notice differently than that of a cat, a form that reacted to Artemis’s noticing _her_ differently than his cat’s body did. Even if he changed back right now and stayed a cat for the rest of his life, Artemis understood that it was too late. From now on, every time Minako looked at him, she would be reminded that there was a handsome, attractive guy under all that fur, a guy who knew her every bit as well as she knew herself and who had genuine feelings for her—a guy who had, regardless of his form at the time, been sharing her bed for years. A guy who had actually seen her naked once or twice.

At the very least, it was going to confuse her, make her go back and re-examine her impression of their relationship, of his feelings towards her—and hers towards him. At the very least.

He had no idea what to do next—and Makoto, picking up on that, sighed.

“That’s what I was afraid of.”

Minako yawned and rolled over, hugging her pillow and trying to squeeze in a few more minutes of sleep before she got up. The floor wasn’t particularly comfortable, but it was less _un_comfortable than some of the things she’d have to face once she admitted she was awake.

“Minako.”

Her eyes opened. “Good morning, Artemis.” He was somewhere behind her, probably sitting on that smaller couch. A quick look told her that Makoto and Rei were both already up and out of the room. Convenient. “Is that breakfast I smell?”

“Mako-chan’s made some coffee and toast for herself. I think she said something about making pancakes later.”

“Good. I could use something to eat; sleeping on this floor’s really worked up my appetite.” Still not looking at him, she sat up and stretched, holding the heavy blanket close. “Well, I guess I’d better go make myself presentable before everybody else wakes up.” She started to get to her feet, and then staggered to a stop when Artemis spoke again.

“Minako, we need to talk.”

*Not this. Please, not this.* “Oh?” She did her best to sound casual. “What about?”

“Me. Us. Our relationship.”

“I... see.” Minako sat back down on the floor. “What’s there... what is there to talk about?”

“Mako-chan tells me you didn’t want to talk about me last night. I think we both know what that means, don’t we?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Minako.” His voice was gently chiding. “Come on. This is still me you’re talking to, no matter what I look like.”

“I know that,” Minako snapped. In a quieter voice, she added, “That’s the problem. I used to wonder, sometimes, about what you’d look like if you were human, and I always knew you’d be handsome”—she turned around—“but why did you have to be _this_ handsome?”

He shrugged. “Because I deserve to be?”

“That isn’t funny,” Minako said, fighting back a smile of her own.

“Then why are you smiling?”

“I’m doing no such thing,” Minako lied.

“And your left cheek is just twitching like that because you’ve picked up a nervous tic from the stress of your daily life, right?”

“Exactly.” She turned her back to him again. “Damn it, Artemis, stop making me happy; it only makes this worse.”

They sat there in silence for a few moments. Then Minako started speaking in a quiet, sad voice. “I’m supposed to be the Goddess of Love. I can solve a hundred couples’ romantic problems in a day, but no matter how hard I look, I just can’t find someone for myself. I just want... I just want somebody who can keep up with me when I get going and make me smile when I feel down. Somebody I can talk to and not have to hold back so many secrets from; somebody I can just be _me_ with. And now, now it looks like the perfect guy’s been literally under my nose the whole time, and he’s funny and clever and absolutely gorgeous, only...”

“Only what?”

“Only you’re _not_ the perfect guy—not for me.” She sighed. “I know how you feel about Luna, Artemis; every time you look at her, it comes through so clearly it might as well be written on your face. I won’t interfere with something like that. I can’t. It just wouldn’t... it wouldn’t be right.” Artemis couldn’t see her face, but he heard the sound in her voice which told him there were tears in her eyes. “This happens every time. Every single time I come close to finding the right guy, he either already has someone he really loves, or he sees me as just a kid, or... or... it just isn’t _fair._”

Artemis got off the couch and sat down on the floor next to Minako, taking one of her hands in his own. This was an old complaint, and it usually ended with Minako picking him up and hugging him for support like one of her horde of stuffed animals. This time was no exception, only now he actually had arms that could go around her as well. Everything else aside, it felt rather pleasant to be able to hold her like this—and Artemis immediately told his body to keep its attention on other things.

She didn’t actually cry—this time—for which Artemis was quietly thankful; Makoto and Rei had promised to intercept the others and keep them out of the way, but if someone heard Minako crying, they’d have to investigate. That could have been a little embarrassing.

After a while, he realized that Minako _was_ making a sound—the sound of soft giggles. “What? What’s so funny?”

“How do you and Luna manage to purr so well even when you’re not cats anymore?”

Artemis hadn’t realized he was purring, but he answered the question. “You have to know what to do with which muscles. Humans would have to work at learning it, but we do it by instinct.”

“Yeah, well, you should hear the echo it makes in here.” She rapped on the front of his chest with her knuckles. Then she sighed. “Do you love me, Artemis?”

“Yes—just not in that particular way.”

Minako nodded. “That’s what I thought.”

“You know I’ll always be here for you when you need me, right?”

“Right. Okay, then. Friends? And partners? Just like before?”

“Just like before,” he agreed.

“I’ll even let you keep on sleeping in the bed,” she proclaimed grandly. “At least as long as you’re a cat at the time, of course. A _small_ cat,” she added quickly.

“Of course.”

“Right. But if I catch you sneaking a peek at me when I’m getting dressed in the mornings,” she continued, giving him a warning poke in the belly, “your chicken is fried.”

“That’s ‘goose is cooked,’” he said automatically.

“Whatever.” Minako looked up at Artemis and then kissed him on the cheek. “I love you too, you know.”

Artemis grinned. “Well of course you do. Everybody knows that cats are inherently lovable.”

Minako made a sound of good-natured disgust, pushed him back, and snatched up her pillow to beat him over the head. When she brought it down, though, the man had been replaced by the huge white cat, who took the hit, shrugged it off as easily as a few drops of rain, and pounced on her, smothering her under a few hundred pounds of fur and purr before licking her face from chin to crown with a tongue that was both damp and as rough as a piece of sandpaper.

“Ack,” Minako said, pushing futilely at the huge feline head and wrinkling her nose. “Ugh, fish breath. Yuck! Any notions I had of kissing you just went out the window. Let me up, you big hairball!”

Artemis growled and butted his head against hers playfully, but complied with the request. Minako pulled herself up with some help from the heavy feline shoulder and stood there with one hand on Artemis’ broad back, wiping her face with her sleeve.

“Mreh. Did we not have toothbrushes ten centuries ago?”

“We did. But I can’t brush as a cat”—he flickered back into human form— “and I don’t have fish breath in this form anyway. It’s coffee breath by now for sure.” He leaned forward to demonstrate.

“Get away,” Minako drawled warningly, as she simultaneously leaned back in one direction and put a hand over Artemis’ face to push him back the other.

Artemis grinned, blinked into tiger mode once again, and made as if to bite at the offending hand. Minako withdrew quickly and glared at him.

“We’re going to set some ground rules about this whole changing forms thing, too,” she told him, right before her stomach growled. “After breakfast. You said Mako-chan was making pancakes?”

“I did.” He resumed human shape and gallantly offered her an arm. “May I?”

“Oh, I suppose so.”

Sunlight creeping in through the window reached Usagi’s face, and the soft feel of warmth/light against her eyes made her turn slightly. That started the waterbed shifting and moved everyone and everything on it at least a little, and Usagi ended up flinching when something cold brushed her feet for about the hundredth time that night.

“Um... not warnun you’gain, Ami... keep your feet to yourshelf.”

“Mmm... then quit stealing all the blankets,” Ami mumbled back, tugging a handful of sheets. Usagi tugged in turn, so Ami tugged again and moved one of her feet up to the general location of Usagi’s super-ticklish backs-of-the-knees. Usagi squirmed away from that and elbowed Ami in the shoulder; Ami returned the favor, then opened her eyes wide when Usagi dropped the pillow on her head.

Luna yawned, stretched, and padded out of range as the two girls went at it again with the pillows and the insults, Usagi complaining that Ami had cold feet, and Ami saying that Usagi was a bedhog.

Not for the first time, Luna was glad she’d decided to sleep in cat form. She was willing to admit that the recent discomforts she’d experienced while sleeping in human form might have had something to do with the fact that she’d been sleeping on the ground in a desert at night, rather than in a nice warm bed, but her feline shape was more familiar, it could get comfortable in a much smaller space than her human form needed, and it had a fur coat to keep her warm. All of those were important considerations when one had two room-hungry, cold-footed, blanket-stealing bedmates to contend with.

*Of course,* Luna reflected, as a ripple in the waterbed flipped her first on her back and then over the side of the mattress, *being cat-sized has its problems, too.*

When the three of them came downstairs a few minutes later—Luna back in human form, this time wearing a nightgown of blue-black silk—they found most of the others gathered on chairs around the island-shelf in the kitchen as Makoto prepared breakfast on the counter. Setsuna and Michiru both looked ready to face the day, while Makoto, ChibiUsa, Hotaru, and Haruka were at the other end of the scale, all still in their pajamas—or in Haruka’s case, a long white shirt and a housecoat that wasn’t ‘shut’ so much as it was ‘not open.’ Since he originally hadn’t been planning to spend the night and thus hadn’t brought a change of clothes, Ryo was dressed as he had been the day before, and he was being very careful to not look at Haruka’s legs.

Out of the corner of her eye, Usagi noticed that Ami actually bounced from one step to the next when she caught sight of Ryo. Ryo, who had his back to them, gave a faint start at the same moment that Ami saw him, and he did so again when he turned around and looked at Ami—who bounced a second time before she broke into a blushing smile.

*That mindbond is _really_ something else.*

“Good morning,” Michiru greeted them.

“Good morning,” Usagi yawned.

Ami went directly to Ryo, started to say something, and then stopped and just smiled at him for a moment. She sat down next to him, then blinked and turned slowly to Haruka—who got up and walked over to the counter, ostensibly to refill her coffee. Ami watched her go and briefly closed her eyes, sighing.

“So what was all the racket about?” Makoto asked.

“Some people,” Ami said, opening her eyes with a sidelong glance at Usagi, “simply cannot share a bed.”

“You’re in no position to talk,” Usagi replied. “You and those cold feet kept me up for...”

“...for all of ten minutes before you started snoring. And do you have any idea how hard it was for _me_ to get to sleep with you squirming around every five minutes?”

“At least neither of _you_ got thrown on the floor,” Luna said.

“Waterbeds are fun, aren’t they?” Hotaru asked brightly.

“I’ve always thought so,” Michiru murmured into her coffee.

In the middle of taking a drink of her own coffee, Haruka stopped and glanced suspiciously at Michiru. Then she shook her head, muttering something that nobody else caught, and finished the drink. Makoto bit her lip to hold back a chuckle.

“I didn’t ask you, Michiru-mama,” Hotaru replied absently. “You’d say a bed of _rocks_ was fun as long as Haru-”

“Ahem!” Haruka and Michiru cleared their throats in unison, both of them blushing furiously. Makoto doubled up over the counter from trying to contain herself, her shoulders shaking as weird little sounds slipped out past the hand clapped over her mouth. Everybody stared at her.

“It wasn’t _that_ funny,” a wide-eyed Hotaru said a moment later.

Makoto waved one hand at her. “I know, I know.” She took a deep breath and stood up straight, spluttered once and breathed in again, let out the last breath, and seemed to calm down. Then Makoto glanced back at her friends. “No more jokes while I’m cooking, okay? I don’t want to drop the pancake batter.”

There were some nods. While Makoto went back to her culinary engineering, Usagi looked around. “Where are the others?”

“Rei-chan’s feeding her two new friends,” ChibiUsa replied, “and Mina-chan and Artemis are talking in the living room.”

“What about?”

“Uh...” ChibiUsa hesitated and looked around for some help.

“Minako’s having some trouble adjusting to the idea that Artemis can turn into a human,” Setsuna said.

“Why would... oh.” Usagi looked out towards the living room. “How bad is it?”

“She wouldn’t talk about him _or_ even acknowledge his existence last night,” Makoto said.

Ami and Usagi both winced. “That bad?”

“That bad.”

Usagi sighed wearily. “Did anything _else_ happen while I was asleep?”

“Mako-chan and Hotaru-chan went out on a little mission of mass fungicide,” ChibiUsa replied, yawning.

“ChibiUsa!” Hotaru protested.

“Oh, come on. It’s not like they didn’t already know you were going to sneak out last night.”

“Very true,” Haruka agreed. Hotaru blushed and looked at her feet.

“So how’d it go?” Usagi asked.

“We found six more mana nexi scattered around town,” Makoto reported. “Or the beginnings of them, at least, crawling around on the insides of buildings and under the streets. None of them were in working order, so Hotaru-chan went ahead and dissolved them. We made a quick check of the airport and that cafe, too, just to make sure there wasn’t anything left over from before, and we swung back by the buildings from last night. Did you want berries or chocolate or something else like that in your pancakes?”

“Plain’ll do, as long as there’s lots of them. Did you find anything else?”

“Nothing at the old sites, but there was still an awful lot of that green garbage out there. It was all spread through the different wards, but I’d say that maybe as much as a quarter of the city was covered by the stuff. Hotaru managed to get rid of it without breaking anything else.” There was a hiss as Makoto started pouring the batter onto the pan. “The emergency crews were out by the time we happened by, too, taping off the areas and picking through the rubble.”

“I think that proves what I was worried about last night,” Michiru said.

“What? A bunch of city workers?”

“No; the dispersion of that green... substance. The other side has to know by now that their troops aren’t really a match for us; they ought to have been concentrating their strength in one or two small and heavily-defended areas, not spreading out into a half-dozen huge targets. Not unless they _wanted_ us to find them.”

“They could just be really arrogant and sloppy,” Haruka pointed out. “It’s not like it’d be the first time.”

“Granted, but if they were as bad as some of our previous enemies, I doubt they’d have gone to all the trouble to hide their creations like that. Luna?”

“You’re both right,” Luna said. “The Atlanteans _were_ arrogant, and they were also very good at setting traps like that. They’d willingly throw away an entire army of their unintelligent creations and magical slaves in these sorts of covert operations if they thought it could gain them an advantage.” She paused and folded her arms. “In this case, though, I think the mana nexi were the original focus of their plan. The Atlanteans—or whoever’s inherited their secrets—would want to get access to this region’s powerful elemental energies as quickly as possible. They probably didn’t start setting traps until after you girls had destroyed those first three units.”

“‘Units’?” Ami echoed.

“It’s the closest translation of the Atlantean word. I figured it out when Setsuna traced the existence of that first creature back to the archmage—the man with black eyes.”

“What are they, exactly?”

“The units are creations of elemental energy, somewhat like the two elementals you saw last night, but on a smaller and more readily controlled scale, and without the complications of an animating spirit, whether living or dead. They were—are, I suppose—created by infusing a mass of some specific physical matter with various types of energy.”

“That sounds a bit like what you said about the Nereids last night,” ChibiUsa said, with a quick, cautious glance at Ami.

“The units were created after a lot of study of natural life-forms, including the Nereids. The ones you’ve been dealing with so far seem to be the most basic design, but there are six types that I know of from the records, and I think you’d better be ready to meet all of them. Ami, could you get your computer out? Uplink to the mainframe and run a search on ‘Atlantean weapons technology.’ Include the words ‘unit generation,’ and then set the computer to project the results so we can all see.”

While Ami did that, ChibiUsa hurried out of the room to get Rei. Makoto assessed the state of breakfast and popped a few more slices of bread into the toaster before heading towards the living room, but she stopped near Luna and gave her a questioning look. Luna hesitated briefly before she shook her head.

“What they’ve got to talk about is more important than this. Let’s let them be for now.”

Makoto’s expression changed slightly, but whatever she was about to say was forgotten as the screen of Ami’s computer went dark and then emitted a wave of light. Glowing letters appeared in the air, some of them modern but many others the slender, gracefully curving characters of the Silver Script. The pieces of the thousand years-dead language floated there, tantalizingly familiar to most of the Senshi, but quite unreadable to all of them.

“Give me a minute and I’ll run the translation.”

“That’s okay,” Luna said. “This is all just technical information. I can tell you what you need to know, but I wanted you to be able to see examples of the different designs.” Rei and ChibiUsa entered the room, and Luna waited until they’d found seats before continuing. “Ami, go to ‘First Generation.’”

Ami pressed a button, and the hologram changed. A familiar-looking stringy green humanoid about ten inches high now stood in the air, turning slowly as little captions of the unreadable text spun just as slowly around it. A pod of green the size of the creature’s head was right next to it, complete with its own halo of captions.

“The initial unit design was based primarily on fungoid and the lesser vegetative forms of life. It starts out like this”—Luna pointed at the pod— “essentially a colony of fungus, and then grows into other forms depending on its programming and the energy it’s able to absorb. This level of unit isn’t particularly strong, but it has the capacity for almost unlimited self-replication. A single pod can create anything from one unit to an entire mana nexus—and if it develops that far, it usually has enough energy to start producing new pods and units.”

“So,” Michiru said, “each of the mana nexi we’ve seen so far was created from one of these pods?”

Luna nodded. “Chances are they were all put in place on New Year’s Eve, along with the ones you destroyed at the airport and that cafe, and the one that attacked Ami’s house. First-generation units aren’t smart enough to operate by themselves for long periods of time, so I’d guess that there was a slightly more intelligent variant at one of the nexi, controlling the entire operation and reporting back to its creators from time to time for new instructions.”

“Why am I suddenly reminded of ‘the Invasion of the Body Snatchers?’” Haruka asked of no one in particular as she watched the pod and its progeny turn slowly in the air.

“Well... that _is_ sort of the next stage of their evolution,” Luna admitted. “Ami, switch to ‘Second Generation.’”

The green creature and pod faded out, and a pinkish-brown lump of flesh appeared in their place.

“After plant-based units, the Atlanteans developed a model based on animal tissues.” Luna waited—and the others watched—as the pod expanded and developed limbs and a head, becoming a humanoid body that lacked nearly any features whatsoever. Its hands and feet were vaguely, even uncertainly formed, and the head was just a roundish lump of flesh. “The second-generation design is considerably stronger in a fight than its predecessor, and it’s more intelligent, but since it’s got an animal physiology, it can’t alter its form quite as readily. What it can do is... that.”

Luna pointed as the display changed. Very gradually, the vague shape became less vague. Ears and a face appeared on the head; the fingers and toes became long and flexible; the overall shape grew more distinct, more human. It ultimately ended up taking the shape of some anonymous man—a shape which was hairless except for the head, but which was complete in every other detail.

Hotaru, ChibiUsa, and Ami all blushed spectacularly and hastily averted or covered their eyes. Rei and Setsuna weren’t far behind, and Usagi coughed and took an interest in one of the bunnies on her pajamas. Michiru sighed and shook her head, while Haruka started to chuckle.

Makoto gave the image a few moments of consideration and then turned to Ami. “Just what _else_ can you get on that computer anyway, Ami-chan?”

Crimson-faced, Ami glared at Makoto and quickly hit another button, shifting the hologram back to the indistinct thing it had been before.

Still smiling, Haruka glanced over at the other girls. “You can look now,” she said dryly.

“The second-generation units,” Luna said calmly, “were designed primarily for infiltration and assassination. They can look like any human, male or female, and are able to create whatever clothes they need to complete the disguise from their own substance. Beyond that, they can also create natural weapons and armor, like claws and talons, horns, leathery or scaly skin, and sometimes even insect-like exoskeletons. They’re individually smarter and stronger than their predecessors, but human forms are usually the only ones they’re able to assume, and even if they can _look_ male and female, they really aren’t, so they aren’t able to reproduce on their own.”

“Is there any way to tell them from a regular person?” Setsuna asked.

“If you know what you’re looking for and can observe them in action long enough to find it, yes. The units don’t have emotions, so they’re not very good at imitating them, and the shapes they take are just visual; they don’t have any knowledge beyond what’s been programmed into them and what they’ve been able to learn.”

“Then if one of them was imitating somebody we knew,” Rei said, “we could tell by asking a question only that person should know the answer to?”

“Yes, but I’d be careful about trying that. The units are smart enough to be suspicious, and if one of them thinks its disguise has been penetrated, it might try to slip away and take another form—or it could attack. They may _look_ human, but they’re quite a bit stronger.” Luna paused and looked at Ami and Makoto. “You two will probably be able to pick a second-generation unit out of a crowd even if you don’t know who it’s imitating; it won’t think or feel like a normal person. You might notice it too, Rei. They’re also supposed to have an odd sort of smell, but I’m not sure what it’ll be like, or if it’ll be strong enough for you to notice.”

“This is the point where Mina-chan would advise us all to keep our noses clean,” Ryo said faintly, “but...”

“You hush,” Ami ordered, pointing at him with her right hand and advancing to the next image with her left. This time, the pod looked like nothing so much as a lump of dirt, complete with tiny tufts of grass sticking out of it, and when it expanded, the resulting humanoid had blades of grass in place of hair, as well as jutting from the backs of its forearms.

“The third-generation units were built from dirt, which is made up mainly of dead organic matter. That made it easier to animate than totally nonliving substances, but it also allowed the Atlanteans to experiment with at least semi-inorganic compounds, and they eventually refined the design into the Fourth Generation”—Ami quickly pressed the button again, and the image of a whitish-brown manshape with rough ‘skin’ appeared—“which was made up of sand rather than dirt. Both types are able to shapeshift nearly as well as the first-generation units and can reproduce by absorbing and charging the appropriate substance. The mineral contents of their bodies also give them energy-absorbing and projecting powers which are superior to the previous generations. The third- generation units aren’t very good in direct combat because they have a tendency to fall apart quite easily; the fourth-generation design is tougher and is particularly resistant to electricity and normal extremes of heat or cold, but both types are extremely vulnerable to water. A good rainstorm could melt them.”

“I’ll keep that in mind in case we see any,” Michiru promised.

“You’ll probably be more likely to see fourth-generation units than third- generation,” Luna said. “And even then, I wouldn’t bet on it; they worked best in deserts, and this area’s really too wet for them to function for very long. If they _do_ show up,” she added, looking at Rei and Makoto, “you two in particular had better be careful. As I said, they’re resistant to electricity— mainly because that’s what’s holding them together—and fire won’t be much use unless you can make it hot enough to fuse the unit’s entire outer skin into glass.”

“That might take a while,” Rei admitted.

Ami advanced the image again, and this time the faceless shape was a dull, pale grey color. There was no accompanying pod.

ChibiUsa frowned. “That looks familiar.”

“The Time Gate,” Setsuna said. “Ryo’s vision showed Uranus fighting one of these.”

“Right before someone or something else blew it away,” Ryo added. “I don’t think it was one of you, either.”

“I’m inclined to agree with you,” Luna told him. “Fifth-generation units are made from a single, solid piece of stone, which means they can withstand a lot of punishment. Right now, out of all of the Senshi, only Saturn and Eternal Sailor Moon really have the power to destroy one of these units in a single hit—and neither of them use white-hot plasma beams.”

“Not yet.” The statement made some of the others look sidelong at Usagi. “It could happen.”

Luna did not seem convinced. “As I was saying, this design is made from stone, and that makes them tough, heavy, and extremely strong. In terms of pure physical power, these units will be superior to anything you’ve faced before. They don’t bleed or feel pain, so they’ll be able to shrug off hits that would incapacitate most of the creatures you’re used to fighting, and they’ll never tire no matter how long they fight. And just as an ordinary large rock isn’t particularly affected by wind, rain, or extremes of temperature, the fifth- generation units will have a much higher degree of resistance to your attacks than other creatures.”

“Good.” Now they all turned to look at Haruka. “Hey, I’d hate to think that something that could hold me up one-on-one was _weak._”

“They’re definitely not weak,” Luna replied, “but _you’ll_ be at more of a disadvantage against this type of unit than the others because these creatures are concentrations of earth energy, which is directly opposed to your own air-based powers. They’re too heavy and solid to be picked up or knocked around by World Shaking, and even the Space Sword Blaster won’t be able to do much more than chip away at them. The Sword itself would be your best bet, considering the level of energy it contains, but you’ll still need to be careful.”

“Venus should be able to fight one of these things fairly well, shouldn’t she?” ChibiUsa asked. “I mean, her powers are based on metal, and that comes from the earth, right?”

“Yes and yes. Your tiara should be useful too, since the best way to deal with a fifth-generation unit is to attack the thinnest parts of its body—the joints of its arms and legs. The only long-range attacking capability this design has is to pick up and throw things, so if you keep your distance and take out its limbs, it won’t be able to attack you or give chase.”

“It might try to bite their kneecaps off, though,” Ryo suggested, nodding sagely. He rocked slightly to the side as Ami—to Michiru’s silently nodded approval—punched him in the arm. “Ouch.”

“I warned you.”

“Yes, ma’am. Shutting up, ma’am.” Ryo gave her one of the salutes he’d used last night; Ami started to laugh, then glared at him through it and hit him in the shoulder again. Again, Michiru nodded. Haruka shook her head and rolled her eyes—and got punched herself for the criticism. She gave Michiru an exasperated look, which was ignored.

“I notice that there’s no pod shown for this type,” Setsuna said, concealing a smile. “Is that significant?”

“It is. Since these units are made from nonliving stone, they don’t have any of the healing abilities of the units based on living or formerly living substances, and the natural rigidity of stone leaves them totally unable to shapeshift. They’re not as versatile as some of the earlier designs, they can’t create more of their kind independently, and once they’re damaged, they can’t heal without help. But that said, damaging them isn’t easy, destroying them is even harder, and they excel at the one thing they were built for—fighting. They were _so_ good at it that the Atlanteans only came up with one further refinement of their unit technology.”

The final hologram to appear was larger and more distinct than any of the others. The shape was that of a knight in full armor of blue-black steel, complete with a shield, a sword, and a dark blue cape, but the faint white light glowing within the bars of the visored helm gave away its true, inhuman nature.

“Physically, a sixth-generation unit has superior strength and damage resistance to a fifth-generation design, and it can fight just as well with its bare hands as with the sword and shield. This type also has the ability to absorb a wide variety of elemental energies, store them, and then convert them into various types of power for its own uses. Attack one of these things with magic, and it’ll take the hit, absorb the power, and then spit it back at you. Or it might use the energy to form a defensive barrier, or maybe to fly. The more you throw at it, the stronger it becomes.”

“Oh, joy,” Haruka muttered sourly. “So in addition to the fact that physically hitting something made out of solid metal will hurt _us_ more than _it,_ you’re saying we won’t be able to attack these things with our _powers,_ either?”

“I didn’t say that. Any of your directed attacks will be absorbed, yes, but there’s a limit to just how much energy a sixth-generation unit can store. Push it near that limit, and it stops absorbing energy, at which point it immediately becomes open to the full force of whatever attack you direct at it. Push it _beyond_ its limit, and the unit either shuts down or self-destructs.” Luna smiled. “There’s a catch, of course.”

“Of course.”

“That being,” Michiru said, “that we don’t know how much it would take to push one of these units into an overload. If we just fire full-force attacks at it and hope our luck is in, we’ll wear ourselves out. And while _we_ don’t know the limits of the energy-absorbing power, we’ll have to assume that the units themselves _do_ know what the limit is, and will try everything they can to prevent it from being passed.”

“The second option,” Luna said as Ami shut off the projection, “is to have someone whose power allows for an immediate deactivation deal with the thing. Again, Eternal Sailor Moon and Saturn are the only two of you who could destroy these things easily, but Pluto could trap one of them in a field of slowed Time, and since they’re made of metal, Venus should have some ability to affect them—assuming her powers have developed that far yet.”

“Could you explain that a bit?” Makoto asked. “Rei-chan was all but eating those fires last night, and I’ve already heard Haruka and Michiru describe what they did with the wind and water in the future. How does that work, exactly?”

“Your ties to your specific elements give you the ability to control those elements. You’ve been able to conjure them in various forms since day one, but you don’t have to use them in combative forms: Saturn can heal; Uranus can move objects with focused applications of wind; Neptune and Mercury can create water; and so on. If you can develop this aspect of your powers far enough, you’ll be able to redirect, absorb, or neutralize concentrations of your own elements that you didn’t create yourselves, even ones that somebody else has created or harnessed.”

“Like what Rei-chan did to the fire elemental last night?” Hotaru asked.

“Exactly like that. And when it comes to the units, if you’ve advanced far enough, we’ll have a lot less trouble. With that in mind,” Luna said, looking around at everyone, “you’re all going to start training regularly again.” Luna fixed a particular look at Haruka and Michiru. “And that includes you two.”

“Unlike these powder-puffs,” Haruka replied with a quick, room-sweeping glance of her own, “_we_ never stopped training.”

Hands on her hips, Makoto turned around and repeated the words, “Powder-puffs?” with an expression wavering between amazement and outrage.

“That may be,” Luna said, ignoring Makoto for the moment, “but you’re both beginning to tap into an area of your powers that can’t be learned through combat exercises alone—and you’re both seriously overdue for some real training in how to use your Talismans properly. You in particular, Haruka, if you can’t even hold your own in a fight with an opponent of equal strength.”

“Now _just_ a darn minute...”

“Hush,” Michiru said.

“Speaking of Talismans,” Usagi said suddenly, “what about that Cad-thingy Ami-chan got her hands on? It seemed to me like it was helping her control her powers safely; could we find it for her now?”

“It’s called ‘the Caduceus,’” Luna said patiently—after all, they’d only mentioned the thing about six or seven times the previous night, which was hardly enough for it to have sunk into Usagi’s head just yet—“and it’s a Weapon, not a Talisman.”

“Huh?”

“A Talisman is an extension of a person’s inner being, a bit of their essence given a physical form, and that means it can’t be stolen from or turned against the owner.” Luna stopped and frowned, remembering Medea. “Well, it can’t be stolen _easily_—certainly never permanently—and it’ll never break unless the owner does first. With the right sort of magic, absolutely anyone, even a completely ordinary person, can be given a Talisman, and once it is created, it’s as much a part of them as a hand or an eye. These four particular ones are a bit different in that they were created to be the Talismans of the _Senshi,_ and not the specific woman who _was_ the Senshi at the time. If the Space Sword was exclusively Haruka’s Talisman, for instance, then nobody else would be able to use it unless she let them, but since it belongs to _Uranus,_ any Senshi of Uranus can call for it and use it. Though only one at a time.”

“And this is different from a weapon... how?” Usagi asked.

“A Weapon”—Luna put a slightly different emphasis on the word—“is any one of the devices used by the Senshi over the centuries. That includes your tiara and all the rods you’ve used, the Mercury Computer and the Caduceus, the lightning rod built into Jupiter’s tiara, and a whole host of others. And I suppose Gladius counts as one as well. They generally aren’t as powerful as the four Talismans, and like any weapon”—that particular emphasis was lacking, here—“they can be used by anyone who picks them up and knows what to do. These devices were enspelled so that it’d be much harder for other people to steal or use them, but it can still be done—as Ami sort of proved.”

“Could she do that again?”

“I don’t think it would be a good idea. The Caduceus may not be a Talisman, but it’s fairly intertwined with the power of Mercury—that’s one of the safeguards against it being stolen—and it might trigger another attack if Ami tried to call it again.”

“Well,” Minako said from the doorway, “if you can’t bring Mohammed to the mountain, you bring the mountain down.”

Confusion over the latest Minakoism was compounded by the surprise of her—and Artemis, who was standing arm-in-arm with her while shaking his head and looking towards the ceiling for strength—being there, and it took Luna a moment to get out the word, “What?”

“If Ami-chan can’t bring the Caduceus here, then we’re going to have to find a way to get her wherever _it_ is, so she can pick it up and carry it home the old-fashioned way. So,” Minako said, looking at Luna, “where is it?”

“I have no idea.”

“That’s not entirely true,” Usagi disagreed. “Mother told us there wasn’t anything left on the Moon that could be useful or dangerous, so that means the Caduceus isn’t there.”

Rei rolled her eyes. “Perfect. That just leaves the rest of the solar system to search.”

“That’s going to have to be your job,” Usagi told her absently.

“Excuse me?”

“The Book, Rei. It’ll be able to tell us what happened to all of these ’Weapons’ after the Silver Millennium fell apart, whether or not any of them are still around, and _where_ they are.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, odango-atama, that thing isn’t exactly forthcoming with useful information. It could be _months_ before I find anything.”

“Then you’d better get started, hadn’t you?”

“And speaking of getting started,” Makoto announced, distracting Usagi and Rei from the imminent tongue war, “I’d say the pancakes are ready.”

They looked over at the counter and blinked collectively. Nobody had really been paying attention to Makoto’s cooking beyond the almost unconscious acknowledgment that she _was_ cooking, so it came as something of a shock when they saw the rather mountainous piles of pancakes, toast, and hashbrowns she’d managed to create. There was also a large platter covered with fruit—some sliced, some not—off to one side.

“Is there anything left in the pantry?” Michiru asked in a faint voice.

“You’re definitely out of pancake mix,” Makoto admitted. “I used up most of the fruit you had laying around and two of the loaves of bread that were in the freezer—and I’d imagine that you’re going to be a little short on syrup, butter, and juice before the morning’s out.”

“Mako-chan?” Usagi interrupted sweetly, eyeing the food with a disturbing intensity.

“Yes?”

“Could you get out of the way?”

Makoto did that—quickly. When Usagi started to giggle as she filled her plate, some of the others got up to stake claims to their own breakfasts before their hungry leader tried to eat everything in sight. Makoto stepped clear of the rush and made her way around to Artemis.

“Nice going,” she said softly, glancing at Minako. She might have said something more, but Ami, Michiru, and Setsuna came over.

“You said last night that there were caves on Mercury,” Michiru said to Luna, without any preamble. “Were they anything like the cave where we saw Ami during Ryo’s vision?”

“Not really. The ‘caves’ had been redesigned into subterranean cities during the Atlantean Age, so that any visitors had familiar surroundings to make them feel more comfortable. The Nereids didn’t need the sort of physical comforts we do, but they were absolutely fascinated by geometry, and very conscientious hosts besides. They designed some of the most beautiful pieces of art and architecture during the Silver Millennium, including parts of the royal palace, but their cave-cities were in a class of their own.” Luna sighed with the regret of memory. “But that was before Beryl killed the Nereids and their planet. I don’t suppose there’s much of anything left, considering the original devastation we found and the time it’s had to get worse, so yes, I suppose that cave we saw could be somewhere on Mercury.”

Artemis gave the girls a dry look. “I’ll say right off the bat that yes, the Caduceus is very likely to be somewhere in those caves, but before you suggest we take up interplanetary spelunking, I’ll _also_ say that those caves cover an area larger than the Asian continent. We could search around in there from now until Crystal Tokyo and not find the thing—and that’s only if you can come up with a way to get us there first. You girls did okay getting to the Moon, but trust me, you’re not ready for an interplanetary teleport yet, particularly not a teleport to a place you’ve never seen before.”

“Is that important?” Setsuna asked curiously.

“It’s easier to reach a place you’re familiar with,” Luna replied. “You’ve got to get an image fixed in your mind of where you want to be, and when you know an area really well, its image forms faster and more clearly than when you’ve never seen the place before. And if you can _see_ the place you want to go, you don’t even have to spend the small amount of time remembering what it looks like; you can just go there. But if you can’t form the image precisely enough, you can’t go.”

“A Senshi who’s mastered the power of teleportation is capable of going back to her own planet like _that_”—Artemis snapped his fingers—“no matter her distance or condition at the time, and even one who isn’t skilled enough to do that can still serve as a guide to that world for others, but tracing a path to Mercury _through_ Mercury would almost have to trigger another energy-attack, so we need to find another way.”

“Thank you, Artemis,” Ami said softly, “but if this is the only way to get there, I...”

“Oh, it’s not just you I’m worried about,” Artemis admitted candidly. “I’m worried about my own fur as well. None of you are strong enough to teleport that far on your own, so you’d have to go as a group. If Mercury goes berserk again while all of you are linked in a teleport, it might set off the same kind of reaction in the other girls as well, and I have _no_ idea what the end result of something like that might be, except that it’ll be bad, and probably on a global scale.”

“Besides,” Luna put in, “we don’t know for sure that the Caduceus still exists. _If_ Rei can find some mention of it or the other Weapons in the Book, and _if_ we can get a reasonably good idea of where to look, _then_ we’ll talk about whether we want to risk trying a teleport or not. But not before.”

Her voice was gentle, but the tone of finality on the matter was obvious.

“How many Weapons were there?” Michiru asked. “Was there just one for each of us, or were there more?”

“There were more. Some of them, generally the more powerful ones, were devices like the Caduceus that could only be used by a specific Senshi, but there were others that any of you could use. And just as many ‘Weapons’ were actually defensive devices like shields and armor, or supplementary tools similar to Mercury’s visor and computer. But since we don’t know for sure which ones—if any—are still around, there isn’t much point in going into detail about them, is there?”

“There were _that_ many?” Makoto said.

“We had a whole chamber in the royal arsenal devoted to holding them,” Artemis said. “Not all of them were in use at one time, of course; a few got put to use by every new generation of Senshi, but others hadn’t been touched for centuries.”

Michiru frowned. “That could be a problem. What happens if we find a Weapon that none of us have any idea how to use? We _could_ always have Rei try to find that sort of information from the Book, but...”

“Not to worry,” Artemis told her. “I was the Master of Arms, and knowing what each of the Weapons was and could do was part of the job description.”

“I see.” Michiru turned to Luna. “Did they _let_ him know that, or did he ferret it out on his own?”

“Hey!”

“It _is_ sort of like letting a kitten into a yarn basket, isn’t it?” Luna agreed.

Artemis looked from one of them to the other, then threw his hands in the air with a sound of conceded defeat, and went to see if anything interesting enough to eat had survived the initial feeding frenzy.

“So that’s the plan?” Ami asked with a faint, fading smile. “We keep up the patrols, train, and wait for Rei-chan to find something in the Book?”

Luna nodded. “Although,” she began to say, sounding hesitant and giving Ami a concerned look, “you may want to...”

“I’ll be there with the others,” Ami said firmly. “Even if I can’t transform, I can still learn _something,_ right?”

“Well... we could start you on some of the physical routines...” Luna shook her head. “Ami, I really think it would be better if you not take part in the training until we manage to stabilize your condition. Even the simple exercises are designed to help push the limits of your abilities as a Senshi, and if you push too hard, that could be the same as trying to transform.”

“I’ll be careful.”

“Ami...”

“Luna, _please._” Ami’s voice was quiet, almost begging. “_Please_ don’t make me sit this out. I can’t transform, I can’t fight, I’ve got this... this _thing_ in my mind, and then there’s Ryo...” She broke off and clenched her eyes tightly shut for a moment. “So much in my life has changed so fast; I need _something_ to stay the same. Please?”

“Okay,” Luna agreed, sighing. “But if Artemis or I tell you to stop or not to try something, I don’t want any arguments.”

“You won’t get any,” Ami promised.

“You may want to give some thought to getting a promise like that out of Haruka,” Michiru advised. “Pushing the envelope is second nature to her, even in training.”

“She may find that this particular envelope’s a little out of her reach,” Luna replied dryly. “I may have missed that fight in the dining hall, but I’ve had plenty of opportunities to see her fight before. She’s got Uranus’ powers down, but her hand-to-hand skill is another story, particularly where the Space Sword is concerned.”

“You’re not impressed?”

“Oh, when you stop to consider that she’s essentially self-taught, she’s actually quite good, but a lot of that is Ariel’s influence and not Haruka’s own skill. And she’s still nowhere near as good as she should be.” Luna frowned and looked at Michiru. “You know her best; do you think she’ll be able to handle getting knocked flat on her ass a few times in practice?”

Makoto, Ami, and Setsuna all looked at Luna, but Michiru answered the question with a level voice, a raised eyebrow, and just a little pride. “More to the point, do you think you’ll be _able_ to knock her flat on her ass? Even once? Haruka may not be up to your standards as far as skill goes, but she’s still very strong. I have the bruises to prove it, and in four years, I’ve never once managed to beat her.”

“I’ve seen you fight hand-to-hand as well,” Luna said. “That’s one of the things we’re going to be working on—but as for Haruka, I’m not the one who’s going to be teaching her how to use that sword properly. Believe me, in a straight fight with just physical skill and physical weapons, Artemis is more than capable of beating her with one hand tied behind his back.”

Michiru glanced at Artemis, who was trying—unsuccessfully—to get around ChibiUsa and Hotaru to grab a few pieces of the much-reduced pile of pancakes for himself. He resorted to swiping pancakes from ChibiUsa’s plate, at which point both girls turned around, jumped on him, and poked, pinched, and punched him into submission and a surrender of the stolen food.

“I think,” Michiru said at length, “that I’m going to have to see that to believe it.”

The practice sword went skidding through the dirt in one direction as Uranus hit it in another. She raised her head and spit out a bit of gritty, half-melted snow, then pushed herself up and brushed off the worst of the snow and dirt. One of the nice things about the Senshi fukus was that they were always being magically cleaned and repaired, so despite the fact that this was perhaps the fifth fall Uranus had taken tonight, her uniform was still in a close-to-pristine condition. The body underneath was starting to get a little tired of hitting the ground, though.

“You overextended again.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Uranus retrieved her weapon, rotated her neck to work out a stiffness, and turned around. Artemis was leaning against a tree, one foot up on the trunk and the counterpart to her own wooden ‘blade’ dangling with apparent laziness from his right hand.

Uranus understood the need for nonlethal weapons in training exercises— Mars had provided this particular pair from somewhere in one of the shrine’s storerooms—but that didn’t change the fact that she missed the familiar, comfortable weight of the Space Sword. It also didn’t make these ‘harmless’ weapons any lighter on impact.

This was only the second of these training sessions in the week since their return from that near-disaster at the Time Gate, but that first one had left Uranus feeling more thrashed than anything since the last time she’d crashed her bike while off-roading—and _that_ had been a while ago. If it hadn’t been for the fact that turning back to normal got rid of the majority of whatever injuries they suffered as Senshi, she was pretty sure she wouldn’t have been able to move the next morning. This lesson was shaping up to be just as debilitating, and they still had the magical exercises to do—and changing forms didn’t help much with the fatigue left over from using attacks continuously for as much as an hour.

If she had thought for one second that _this_ was the kind of training the Inner Senshi had been going through for the last four years, Uranus would never have been able to live it down. Fortunately for her ego, they were all having just as much trouble keeping the pace Luna and Artemis had set. All except Ami, who was actively being prevented from pushing herself that far; Usagi, who for obvious reasons wasn’t attending; and Pluto, who had come out of that first grueling evening looking as if she were more _invigorated_ than exhausted.

It was ridiculous. The woman had hardly done a thing for the last two months as far as strenuous physical activity was concerned—unless you counted getting blown up as exercise—and before that she had spent a couple of thousand years atrophying in oblivion, and yet she was holding up as if this were all a walk in the park.

Either somebody was cheating, or the training system that had produced Pluto had _really_ been something else, but either way, Uranus was not about to let herself fold first.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Uranus said, raising her weapon to an en guarde position.

Artemis stepped away from the tree, tapped the end of his sword on the heel of one of his boots to clear away a clinging bit of snow, and struck at her in the same movement, going from lazy to lethal in less than an eyeblink. He pressed the attack with three, four, five savage slashes that were almost too fast to follow, and as Uranus worked to block each attack, Artemis suddenly wasn’t in front of her anymore.

Uranus immediately swung her sword up, around, and down to protect her back, and she was rewarded with a loud clack as the attack was foiled—this time. Pushing the other sword away as she turned, Uranus went into a half-crouch and swung her weapon through the general level of air where Artemis’ knees ought to be. She saw him jump and begin to bring his sword down at her head, and quickly snapped her own sword up to block the other at the hilts, rising from the half-crouch after the moment of contact to get some extra momentum which might help push Artemis off-balance.

Push him back she did, but off-balance was another story. Artemis spun on his heel, diverting the major part of the momentum of Uranus’ attack into an attack of his own as he struck a two-handed blow at her midsection, which had been left open by the lunge. She got out of that by bringing her arms down fast and hard and taking a hasty step back, but Artemis slipped his weapon free— incidentally twirling Uranus’ sword up high and out to one side—and went for her shoulder without missing a beat.

Something clicked in Uranus’ mind at that point. She dropped low and turned fast, kicking as she spun to sweep Artemis’ feet out from under him, and as she came out of the movement facing him, batted his sword hard before leaping. The move would bring her down right on top of him, knees first and the sword not far behind.

With reflexes that could only be described as catlike, Artemis rolled to one side and somersaulted back onto his feet. Uranus caught herself as she hit the ground and looked up, expecting an attack that she knew she wouldn’t be able to stop, but Artemis was just looking at her curiously.

“Where did you come up with that?” he asked.

“With what? You mean the pounce-and-stab bit?” Artemis nodded, and Uranus shrugged. “Dunno. It just seemed like the right thing to do.”

“Well, it was _one_ thing to do,” Artemis replied. “Maybe not the perfect choice, but not a bad one. Ariel always did favor the ‘hit quick and hit hard’ approach.”

“Oh.” Uranus got up and brushed off her knees, then lunged at him. “So that was Ariel fighting, huh?”

“Right at that moment, yes.” Artemis sidestepped the attack, and they started exchanging blows. “That’s just how it is when Usagi tries to do something with the ginzuishou; Serenity slips a few suggestions in. I’ve seen it happen to Minako fairly often, too.”

“Well, if we’ve all got these backseat drivers to coach us along in a fight”—Uranus took a swing at his head, which Artemis ducked and countered with a stab at her stomach—“why all the big fuss and bother over training?”

“Because your past memories aren’t the most reliable sources of information in the world,” he replied, driving her back with a series of blurred blows. “You have to get into a situation that is extremely similar to something from _their_ life, and usually one that presents a serious threat to your own safety, before they’ll wake up. For Usagi, that’s pretty much every time she picks up the crystal”—he leapt back to escape a vicious upwards slash—“but the rest of you don’t get into that degree of trouble so often or with as much prior warning. Then too, Serenity’s quite a bit more active in Usagi than Ariel is in you or Ishtar is in Minako, so it doesn’t take as much to wake _her_ up as it does to get _their_ attention. And the end result...”

Artemis swerved around behind a fast slash and bodychecked Uranus, knocking her back into one of the trees. She had enough time to blink away some of the stars before the tip of his sword appeared and stopped right in front of her face.

“...is that you don’t get their help as often,” he finished. Artemis lowered his weapon and backed off. “What Luna and I have been trying to do with the Inner Senshi for all this time isn’t just to teach them how to fight, but to re-teach them everything they knew in the Silver Millennium so that their realities of combat and their memories of it will work together smoothly. Considering that each of them is different now from what they were then, that hasn’t been easy, but it’s harder with you and Neptune—and Saturn—because Luna and I don’t know exactly what you’ve taught yourselves over these last few years. _We’ve_ got to learn, and relearn, at the same time that we’re trying to teach, and that really slows things down.”

“And then there’s Pluto.”

“Yeah. And then there’s Pluto.” Artemis shook his head. “For the first time since the fall of Atlantis, all of the Senshi are training to work together as a team—and we’ve got two extra players to complicate matters.” He looked over to where ChibiMoon and Saturn—minus the Silence Glaive—were making faces and growling noises at each other in a prelude to actually going at it hand-to- hand. “Cut that out and get to it!” he yelled in a voice pitched at drill sergeant volume, startling both girls. “Why in blazes isn’t Luna on their case already?”

“That might have something to do with it.” Uranus pointed to where Luna—dressed now in a form-fitting one-piece suit of black—and Jupiter were throwing each other around like rag dolls. A little ways beyond that, Mars and Neptune were flinging fireballs and gouts of water back and forth as fast as they could draw in the energy, and Ami and Pluto stood off to one side, apparently on a brief break while Luna worked with Jupiter. Venus, having drawn this night’s watch on Usagi, was absent, and Mars’s four-bird escort was watching from three different places.

Artemis sighed. “This is one of the problems you tend to run into when you have two instructors and ten students.”

“You must have had fun trying to do this as cats.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” Artemis looked at ChibiMoon and Saturn, shook his head again, and flipped the length of his sword up under his arm. “I’d better deal with that. Try practicing some of those forms I showed you last time.”

Uranus made a gesture with her sword which looked very difficult and very painful.

“Not in this life _or_ the last one,” Artemis replied with a dry chuckle as he moved away.

Grinning, Uranus put herself into the opening stance for a series of moves Artemis had referred to as ‘Eagle Swooping Over the Lake.’ She had to roll her eyes at the dramatic name and wonder—not for the first time, or the last—just who came up with this stuff.

She glanced up at the crows and wondered something else. Just before the first training session on Saturday, Luna had taken Saturn aside for a few moments and discussed something, talking with her hands as much as her voice. Saturn had nodded slowly at first, then more confidently, and then she had raised the Silence Glaive and put up a huge, translucent cousin of her normal Silent Wall, a barely-visible dome-shaped ripple surrounding the area behind Hikawa where the Inner Senshi had long since been accustomed to training.

As Luna had explained, the energy they would be gathering and unleashing in these training periods was the sort of thing that would attract immediate notice from Atlantean eyes, be they magical or technological in nature. Saturn’s shield would allow them to train without fear of being detected by the Atlanteans or by ordinary people.

Mars had been happy to hear that for a number of reasons, not the least of which was that her frequently foolish, lifelong-lecherous, and deeply spiritual grandfather had admitted to her a number of times in the past that he had gotten ’an odd feeling’ during the night, or that Yuuichirou had a habit of wandering around the grounds until well after dark in the pursuit of whatever chores Grandpa had set for him during the day. Luna assured her that Saturn’s barrier would keep them safely hidden, and keep Grandpa and Yuuichirou safely ignorant.

The thing Uranus couldn’t figure out was how the crows had known where they were. They hadn’t been anywhere in sight when the training began and Saturn put the shield up, and yet during a break in the first night of training—and again tonight, right in the middle of a fierce exchange of blows with Artemis— she’d looked up and spotted the four birds perched casually amongst the branches overhead, watching—mostly watching Mars.

Were the birds just following and finding Mars because of some potent master/pet bond? Or was the barrier, designed to fool human, magical, and mechanical senses, not effective against the different perceptions of animals?

“Better have a talk with Saturn about that,” Uranus said to herself. “If a couple of dumb birds can see through this shield, some equally dumb monsters might be able to as well.”

One of the crows—one of the original pair, and the smaller of the two at that; was that the one Mars called Phobos?—looked down and cawed in a tone that, to Uranus’ ears, was faintly derisive.

“Same to you, featherhead.”

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yes. It’s exactly the same as what happened Friday night and Saturday evening. Our instruments detect what appears to be a sudden surge of energy, but when we go back and look for it, we don’t find anything, not even a residual trace. It’s like whatever we’re picking up never even occurred.”

“Do you know _where_ whatever it is is ‘not happening?’” Security asked.

“No. The power spikes come too fast for our equipment to get a triangulation on the source. Even a general approximation hasn’t been possible so far.”

“But you’re sure it’s one of the Senshi?” Information pressed.

“We picked up the first of these... non-readings... at roughly the same time that eyewitness and personnel reports indicate the Senshi were confronting the two fire-creatures,” Sciences said. “Based on what little we know about their abilities, my guess would be that the one called ‘Saturn’ is responsible.”

“Would you care to explain that?”

“All our information suggests that the Senshi are employing paranormal powers,” Sciences replied, “or that they have technology crafted to give that impression. Each of them appears to be highly specialized in the use of a specific form of power, and we’ve been able to catalogue most of them. Jupiter uses electricity and an extremely impressive repertoire of martial arts techniques, Venus relies mostly on solid projectiles or beams of kinetic force, and Mars wields fire. Although,” Sciences said, sounding momentarily uncertain, “we do have a few reports that seem to indicate she has an additional ability which may be psychic in nature.”

There was a pause, and Sciences seemed to shake her head. “After that, we know that Mercury and Neptune both employ water—though Mercury seems to be strongly oriented towards ice and has repeatedly been seen using a small computer of some sort—and that Uranus attacks with focused blasts of wind, a sword, and fighting techniques at least as advanced as Jupiter’s. Moon—of whom there may or may not be more than one; we’re still checking into that—relies almost entirely on some very limited hand-to-hand ability and an assortment of weapons which seem to be several times stronger than most of her allies’ powers. Then there’s this so-called ‘Tuxedo Kamen’ who’s been sighted along with the Senshi; he doesn’t seem to possess any obviously paranormal abilities...”

“Except possibly his fashion sense,” Personnel said in a dreamy sort of voice. Sciences gave her colleague a long look before going on.

“...but he may actually be a better fighter than any of the Senshi in terms of close combat ability. There are some conflicting reports of three other Senshi with a collective ‘fashion sense’ that is rather... um...”—Sciences actually sounded flustered here—“unconventional... and there are some very old rumors of a ‘Sailor V’—yes,” she said, noticing a general shift around the table, “the same one which all the media circus is about. She may or may not be connected to Venus in some fashion, and she’s easily the most widely-traveled; she appeared here in Tokyo and then in London for several months about four years ago, but since she hasn’t made an appearance in well over three years, we don’t have anything particularly substantial except some incomplete reports from Interpol. Unless you want to start looking through manga for clues.”

“I think we can skip that part,” Media said lightly. “So what about the last two? You wouldn’t have left them this long unless you were going to make a point.”

“The point,” Sciences said, “is that we know next to nothing about the Senshi called Pluto and Saturn. Until very recently, Saturn almost never appeared in public, and Pluto was and remains even more reclusive; we don’t even have a _picture_ of her, let alone any idea what sort of combative abilities and tactics she uses. All we do know for certain is that on the few occasions when Saturn has been observed, she has demonstrated a level of power significantly higher than the rest of the Senshi.”

“When you say ‘significantly higher’,” Security said, “how much higher do you mean?”

“How long would it take one of your teams to disable a hostile?” Sciences countered. “What’s the best time any of them have logged in the simulations?”

“Three minutes twenty-seven seconds from the initial engagement,” Security said immediately. “Factor in the time needed to confirm the kill and secure the area, and it could get as high as five minutes.”

“Roughly the same amount of time as the Senshi have been observed to require,” Sciences said, nodding. “Saturn’s been known to eliminate hostiles in under five seconds—totally—and it doesn’t appear to matter if they’re operating solo or in groups. And yet she almost never engages them—she has in fact been visibly restrained by the other Senshi on more than one occasion, _prevented_ from acting.”

“That’s reasonable,” Security rumbled in his rough voice. “You don’t throw your biggest weapons at the small...” He stopped talking very suddenly.

“I missed something here,” Resources admitted.

“I believe the saying is ‘you don’t crack walnuts with a sledgehammer,’” Sciences said dryly. “But if Saturn is powerful enough to deal with threats so quickly and easily, and yet is so seldom used, ask yourself: how strong must Pluto be, if she appears in the field even more seldom than Saturn?”

Resources didn’t answer.

“It’s entirely possible,” Sciences admitted, “that Saturn and Pluto both have other tasks that they must attend to which prevent them from working with their allies except on rare occasions. It’s also possible that the Senshi don’t work entirely smoothly as a team. Mars and Moon in particular have displayed a great deal of tension between them at times, and Uranus and Neptune seem to prefer operating independently of the others. Even so, they do all work together when circumstances dictate—and given the level of power Saturn and Pluto apparently possess, these circumstances must be very extreme to force them to appear and act.”

“All of which,” Media said lightly, “is a polite way of saying that when Saturn and Pluto show up, all hell is about to break loose. Correct?”

“In so many words. But there’s something else to consider.”

“Oh?”

“Whether by accident of nature or deliberate design, the various powers the Senshi had demonstrated all tend to be in keeping with the assorted mythological and mystical values associated to their respective worlds. This is particularly true with the three better-known Senshi who are associated with the planets of the outer system: Jupiter was a thunder god; Uranus was a sky god; and Neptune was a sea god.”

“And the other two?”

“Saturn is the Romanization of ‘Chronos,’” Information said, “who was the Titan that fathered the Olympians and is associated with the power of Time. Pluto is the Roman version of ‘Hades,’ which was the Greek name for both the lord and land of the dead.”

“Why don’t I like the sound of that?” Personnel asked of no one in particular.

“If those two are in keeping with the precedents set by their allies,” Sciences said, “then Saturn should have some form of control over Time. If it’s true, that would easily explain why she appears so much stronger than the others, and why we seem unable to track her. Pluto, meanwhile, should have control over death. I don’t know how that might manifest itself, but I don’t have to remind all of you of the level of damage the other Senshi have shown themselves capable of causing. What happens if someone whose abilities or weapons are keyed specifically to neutralizing the energy of living beings joins them in a fight? In the middle of one of the largest and densest population centers on Earth?”

“The subject of ‘damage’ is one that has come up a number of times already,” Political said then. “All of our supporters have always been in agreement that the damage or destruction of a few buildings is far preferable to the loss of life, so—despite some grumbling from certain quarters—they’ve been content to look the other way where the Senshi were concerned. But with the disappearances that took place in last Friday’s incidents, that leniency has been seriously compromised.”

“They don’t want us to go after the Senshi, do they?”

“Not yet. But one more incident like that last one, and I wouldn’t be at all surprised if that was the order.” Political looked around. “So make whatever preparations are necessary to get your departments ready for that eventuality.” A wry note entered his voice. “With the track record the Senshi have established so far, that hypothetical ‘next incident’ shouldn’t be too far away.”

Yawning from this evening’s practice, Rei turned another page of weirdly-swirling symbols and tried to make some sense out of what she was seeing. This was becoming a nightly ritual for her, but so far, all it had yielded was sore eyes and a headache.

“Awp?”

Speaking of headaches...

A little black beak poked into her field of view, the head turned to look her in the eye. “Pretty Rei-di?”

“Hello, Rooky. Have you been a good boy today?”

“Rooky has been a good boy for the pretty Rei-di,” Rooky proclaimed in a proud voice. There was a caw of what sounded like disagreement from the perch over by the door, where Phobos and Deimos were sitting at ease; on the other side of the table, Thrax blinked and turned his head, but said nothing.

This was also becoming a part of her life.

The integration of the two time-displaced birds into her own personal flock had not gone particularly smoothly. Phobos and Deimos had always shown a tendency to be protective of Rei and attentive to her moods. They hovered—sometimes very literally—at the edge of her personal space and seldom intruded on it uninvited, and when she was feeling depressed or wanted a little peace and quiet, they fell silent and withdrew.

Rooky, on the other hand, was loud, obnoxious, a shameless flatterer—at least towards Rei—and a prolific thief. In less than a week, he had assembled a private stash of trinkets up in one of the many nooks of the shrine, and it had already grown to an impressive size. Ofudas and other nick-nacks from around the shrine made up most of it, but there were also a few ‘pretties’—basically anything shiny and sparkly—ranging from a bottlecap and a bit of stained glass to a small silver earring that Rooky was immensely proud of. Rei had even cut off a bit of her hair and tied it up in a ribbon for him; Rooky had been absolutely delighted with the gift.

For all those reasons and likely a few others, Phobos and Deimos had taken exception to Rooky right from the get-go. They watched him suspiciously wherever he went. They chased him away from their favorite perches. And they seemed determined not to leave Rei alone with him for a minute.

Thrax received a certain degree of distrust from the pair as well. Under other circumstances, Rei suspected her feathered friends would not have had a problem with the stately raven—he might be as large as both of them put together, but he was quiet, intelligent, and altogether inoffensive—but since he had arrived with Rooky, some of the distrust Phobos and Deimos had for the hyperactive smaller bird was automatically transferred over to his ‘friend.’

Thrax’s manner suggested he wasn’t particularly offended, and that—if situations were reversed—he would have felt very much the same about anyone who showed up with Rooky as a traveling companion.

It was getting warmer, but it was still cold, and since Phobos and Deimos refused to share the warm spots around the shrine with Rooky, Rei had been forced to assemble an indoor perch for the small bird so he wouldn’t freeze at night. Of course, this solution immediately caused another problem, since Phobos and Deimos would not allow Rooky to be alone with Rei, and raised a most uncharacteristic fuss if she tried to shoo them away. So she’d needed to put together another, larger perch to hold the pair—and then, just to be fair, she’d constructed a third one for Thrax, who had watched the entire proceedings with an unmistakable air of wry amusement.

And life went on. Her grandfather and Yuuichirou had both been visibly startled when she came home from the sleepover at Michiru’s with one scrawny crow perched on her shoulder and one majestic raven drifting silently along behind her, but they asked no questions. Almost no questions. Very few questions, none of which she had trouble answering. Rei hoped to keep it this way, and her question about ‘being a good boy’ was how she checked up on that. With a little bit of coaxing and a lot of direct threats—to withhold his food, to take away his pretties, to (and this seemed to be the one that had turned the trick) never speak to him again—she had managed to extract a promise from Rooky that he would not speak when other people were around unless she first told him that it was okay. So far, he seemed to be honoring the pledge. At least, neither her grandfather nor Yuuichirou had asked her yet how Rooky knew how to talk.

*Then again,* Rei thought, *they might have heard him and just not understood. Grandpa’s English is terrible, and I’ve never heard Yuuichirou speak a word of it since he came here.*

“Why is the pretty Rei-di looking at the glowing worms? Are the glowing worms good to eat? If they are good to eat, why does the pretty Rei-di not eat them? If they are bad to eat, why does the pretty Rei-di keep looking at them?”

Rei sighed and lightly scratched the back of Rooky’s head with one fingernail. The downside of that promise was that Rooky was always bursting to overflowing at night with questions to ask her or tales to tell her of his adventures during the day.

“Did Merlin tell you about letters and reading, Rooky?”

“Old fool! Old fool! Old fool talked too much! Awp!”

That translated to a ‘yes,’ so she continued. “I keep looking through this Book because some of the words—the ‘glowing worms’—will tell me something I want to know, but only if I can find the right ones. If I can find the words ’Caduceus’ or ‘Mercury’ or ‘Nereid’ in here somewhere, it might tell me how to help Ami. Do you understand?”

“Cawp! Rooky understands! Pretty Rei-di digs for tasty glowing worms! Rooky will help!” And before she could stop him, Rooky pecked at the left-hand page.

Back in Merlin’s cottage, Rooky had pecked at the Garnet Orb and at the pearls in Usagi/Serenity’s hair, and both times he had earned a zap for his impertinent greed. The Book took a different approach to the matter: it swallowed him.

Rei watched in astonishment as Rooky’s form stretched, blurred, and flowed from a mass in three-dimensional space to a two-dimensional image on a page, a brilliantly-drawn relief of a small, disheveled, loudly squawking crow surrounded by flowing lines of luminous text. With motion more smoothly lifelike than any animated sequence she’d ever seen, the picture-Rooky turned, took wing, and flew further _into_ the background of the page, rapidly dwindling in size until he was a blot, and then a speck, and then a mote, and then... gone.

Rei had her communicator out in a flash. “Usagi? Answer me! Wake up, you moon-faced baka!”

No answer. Rei switched tactics. “ChibiUsa? Setsuna? One of you, please answer!”

“Rei-chan?” ChibiUsa. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I need to talk to Luna. Now! It’s an emergency!”

“I’m here, Rei. What’s...”

“Luna, Rooky’s inside the Book.”

Absolute silence was the initial response, and then there came a faint, “Say that again?”

“I was looking through the Book, and Rooky and the others were in here with me. Rooky asked why I was reading, I explained it to him, he said he’d help me, and then he pecked the Book and it ABSORBED him like water into a sponge! I could see him moving around on one of the pages, and then he flew into the background and disappeared!”

“He’s _inside_ the... how did... no, never mind. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Rei, whatever you do, don’t touch the Book.”

“I’m not Usagi, Luna.”

“I heard that!” a sleepy-sounding voice protested, just as the line was disconnected.

Jupiter came to a halt on a rooftop about a block away from her apartment, looked around quickly and then stepped off the edge. There was a curious sensation of slowing down as she fell, and when she landed—some three seconds and five stories later—there was nowhere near as much force in it as there should have been. She looked around again, reassuring herself that no-one else was around, and then set Ami down.

“You don’t have to carry me, you know,” Ami said a bit shortly, as Jupiter vanished in a scattering of electrical sparks and was replaced by Makoto. “Even if Haruka and Michiru didn’t have enough room in the car, I still have enough money to pay for bus fare for both of us.”

“And we would be getting home half an hour from now instead of five minutes from now,” Makoto replied, yawning. “I need my sleep.”

Ami glanced at a billboard clock. “It’s only eight-thirty.”

“You weren’t getting thrown into trees by Luna. _Or_ shooting thunderbolt after thunderbolt after thunderbolt against Pluto—damn it, does that woman _ever_ get tired? I swea...” Makoto yawned prodigiously. “Whew. Sorry.”

“You’re going straight to bed, then?”

“Uh-huh.” Makoto smiled sleepily at her. “So if you want to call Ryo-kun for a few hours of sweet talk, the phone lines will be open.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ami replied primly, raising the collar of her coat to hide the blush.

“Oh, _really_? Then let me jog your memory.” Makoto took a breath and set her face into the sort of expression which suggested she was about to play back a scene from memory, and Ami’s face turned scarlet.

“You LISTENED?” she blurted in horrified outrage, before Makoto had a chance to say anything.

Makoto raised an eyebrow at her. “As a matter of fact, I didn’t listen in—and if the blush you’ve got going is any indication, I’m starting to regret that.”

“Makoto!”

“Hey, a girl’s got to get her kicks somehow.”

“I’ve got your ‘kicks’ right here!” Ami suited her words with a furious swing of her right leg which would have permanently disabled any shinbone or kneecap it came into contact with. Even half-asleep, Makoto dodged fairly easily.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” she taunted, grinning. Then she looked at Ami closely. “But seriously, _is_ everything going okay with you two? I’ll admit that I’ve been a little more out of it than usual the last few days...”

Ami stifled a reply; the entire school knew by now that Makoto had been ‘a little out of it’ over the past week. Most of them assumed it was one of her typical obsessions over a guy running its course, and chalked up the greater-than-normal degree of spacing out to one of two possibilities; either the guy was _really_ something, or the fact that her last crush had been over two months ago had left Makoto with some sort of ‘daydream quota’ that needed catching up on.

“...but still, I noticed that you two haven’t been talking much this week. Are you having trouble with the mindbond? Is he?”

“We’re not having trouble—nothing we can’t handle, at least,” Ami said. “It’s really not as bad as we thought it would be. That first night, everything was all jumbled up and confused, and it was hard for us to tell each other’s thoughts apart; I’d start thinking one thing and he’d finish it, or he’d stub his toe and I’d feel it, or we’d just look at each other and... well...”

“I remember. I’m glad to hear that part of it at least has calmed down; I’ve got enough trouble fending off other people’s emotions without having to worry about a couple of mentally unstable sex maniacs running around.”

“We weren’t THAT bad,” Ami protested, blushing. “It was just... we just...” She shook her head and skipped the subject. “My point is, we were both worried that we’d be stuck like that, especially when Luna said that the bond would just get stronger over time. The first couple of days, though, it actually felt like it was getting weaker.”

“Oh?”

“It wasn’t, really. It was just settling in. Everything that got stirred up the first night went back to where it was supposed to be, and most of the bond went with it. We could practically read each other with a look right at first, but now it’s all either of us can do to pick out a simple emotion or that fact that the other of us is _that_ way.” Ami pointed off in direction that seemed totally random, but there was nothing at all random about her manner. “This way, it’s a lot easier to deal with, and if it gets stronger in the future, well... we’ll at least be better-prepared than we were the first night. For now, as long as I remember not to let my mind wander when I touch him, we’re okay.” She blushed again. “I forgot about that at lunch on Tuesday, and... um... we sort of got lost in each other’s thoughts for a while. And we lost track of time.”

“Haruna-sensei _did_ seem to be trying to hide a smile when she herded you into class,” Makoto chuckled. “So why are you not talking?”

“We don’t really need to. Even if we can’t pick up each other’s thoughts yet, when we’re together and it’s quiet, we just don’t need to say anything.” Ami made a sound of disappointment. “I’m not explaining this very well.”

Makoto smiled and put a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “I think you explained it just fine, Ami-chan. Come on. Let’s get in out of the cold; I’ll hit the sack, and you can call Ryo-kun.”

Ami smiled back and followed Makoto up the stairs, but as soon as the taller girl’s back was turned, Ami’s smile slipped into a worried frown.

Her three Senshi classmates knew that Makoto’s unusual degree of distraction was a result of her struggle to function normally with the sense of other people’s feelings pressing in on her awareness from all sides at once. They and the other Senshi also knew—from Ami’s careful and carefully-concealed observations—that it was wearing Makoto down; she was going to bed earlier and sleeping later than she previously had. Only by about half an hour or so, but that much of a change in just under a week didn’t bode well for Makoto’s future. Sasanna had warned them to expect something like it; dryads could go for weeks at a time without sleeping, but as they came into contact with emotional, intelligent minds, they tired more quickly and required greater levels of rest.

The solution was obvious: get out of range. With spring break coming up in a little more than a week, they had the opportunity, and the girls had picked out a number of possible sites where Makoto could go to escape the crowded city for a little while. There were just a few problems:

First, they had to broach the subject with her. Makoto appeared confident that she could handle the situation, and none of her friends wanted it to sound like they were questioning her abilities, or ganging up on her to get out of town because they were afraid of her;

Second, they had to figure out which of their ‘ideal trips’ was the best for Makoto. Should they send her off by herself for a couple of weeks, or should one or two—or more—of them go with her? Would an isolated wilderness retreat like the one she’d attended the last couple of summers be appropriate, or would a comfortable health resort be sufficient? And which one? So many questions, though fortunately the issue of paying for it had been solved when Michiru agreed—or rather, insisted—on footing the bill. Of course, she was now caught in the middle of a massive back-and-forth argument involving most of the Senshi on the subject of just _who_ was going _where_, and _how_—Minako, Hotaru, and ChibiUsa all seemed to be in favor of something along the lines of the entire extended Senshi group taking a first-class round trip to Hawaii for three weeks, while Rei and Haruka were more in favor of sending Makoto off by herself, although for very different reasons—but then, Michiru REALLY ought to have known better;

The third difficulty was whether or not Makoto could hold out for even another week without the empathic strain becoming too much for her to handle or too obvious to hide. Even Luna and Artemis weren’t sure exactly when—or if—her day-to-day weariness would stop increasing, and Haruna had taken Ami aside just yesterday to ask if Makoto was feeling well or not;

And the fourth problem was the worry that even three weeks in the back woods without another thinking soul for miles might not be peaceful and remote enough to allow Makoto to rest—or to get enough control over her ability so that coming home wouldn’t start the whole process anew.

A distant sense of concern from Ryo came into Ami’s mind then—him worrying about her in response to her worrying about Makoto—and in spite of everything, she smiled. Makoto had noticed the phone calls, but what she hadn’t noticed was that each call had been started when either Ami or Ryo got one of these stronger emotion-flashes through the mindbond.

Sure enough, as Makoto turned the key, they could hear the phone begin to ring inside. The second Makoto had the door open, Ami pushed past her, kicking off her shoes and racing to the wall-mounted kitchen phone. She was even giggling as she picked up the receiver.

“Moshimoshi?”

“Hello, Ami.”

Ami blinked. It was her mother. “Oh. Hello.”

There was a pause. “Try to restrain your excitement, dear,” Mrs. Mizuno said in a dry voice. “After all, it’s only been about a week since we talked last.”

That was true; Ami and Makoto had gotten back to the apartment Saturday afternoon to find a message from Ami’s mother on the voicemail. Not that having her mother call had been unwelcome, it was just sort of unexpected. Ami had returned the call, and they’d ended up talking for an hour or so, her mother asking questions about her life in general, and Ami answering them, a bit surprised at this sudden interest in her affairs. Ami knew that her mother loved her very much, but she also knew that her mother was the sort of person who tended to focus on one thing at a time, to the exclusion of just about everything else. When she had been younger—and particularly during the period after her parents had separated—Ami herself had been the focus of that attention a great number of times, and she had many warm memories of learning to read and being read to, of short walks and long talks, of falling asleep curled up next to her mother. It was only later, as she’d gotten older and more capable of functioning on her own, that the main focus of her mother’s attention had shifted back to her work.

Now, for whatever reason, it seemed her mother’s thoughts had shifted once more and returned to Ami. She had said as much herself during that first call, admitting with a certain amount of difficulty that she missed being able to sit down to a meal or a quiet conversation with her daughter—that she was, in effect, missing Ami. Mrs. Mizuno had concluded the hour-long chat by saying she’d likely call again in a few days, but Ami had only half-expected it to happen.

Ami blushed. “I’m sorry, Mother. I was just expecting a call from Ry— someone else when I picked up.”

“’Ry-someone else,’ hmmm? Maybe I should call back later.”

“Oh, no,” Ami said quickly, “it’s all right. I see him at school every day, and I’ve called him several times already this week besides that, so...” Ami winced. She hadn’t meant to say that.

“Since when have you been such a phone fanatic, dear?”

“Uh... well, since never. It just sort of... happened. Probably for the same reason _you_ decided to call me last Friday night.”

There was a chuckle. “Yes, probably. Well, if it has to do with a prevailing weather pattern or a change in our horoscopes, it’ll pass.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“I’ll prescribe something. So, your exams are next week, aren’t they?”

“Yes. Don’t worry; I’m studying.”

“Like you’d ever forget that,” Makoto observed as she moved past, heading for her room.

“What was that?”

“Mako-chan says ‘hi,’” Ami lied, sticking out her tongue.

“Oh.” There was a brief pause. “That reminds me. Were you girls planning to head up to Yuriko’s beach house at some point during the break?”

“Maybe later in the month, when it’s warmed up enough to go swimming—why? Is there something wrong? Did Aunt Yuriko call you about a problem?”

“Oh, no, nothing’s wrong. I was just... wondering... Ami, if you do decide to go, would you mind terribly if your poor old mother tagged along?”

A warm sort of feeling welled up in Ami at that. “Kaachan... I’d like that. We haven’t gone to the beach together since...” She had to stop and actually think about the last time the two of them had gone to the beach—or anywhere else, for that matter—together on vacation.

“...since quite a while ago?” her mother suggested.

“Since quite a while ago,” Ami agreed. *I think I was still using water wings at the time.* “We’ve all been discussing plans for the break over the last couple of days, actually. I’ll let the other girls know they can expect you to join us; they won’t mind.”

“If they do...” Mrs. Mizuno started to say.

“...then they can stay in town,” Ami said firmly, “and we’ll go by ourselves.” She was surprised when her voice slipped into a little-girl cadence it hadn’t used for years. “I’ve missed you, too, Rikou-mama. It’d be nice to be under the same roof again, even if it’s just for a few days.”

A startled silence reigned on the other end. “You haven’t called me that since you were about seven or eight,” her mother said slowly. “Ami, is... is everything okay with you?”

“I’m fine,” Ami said. “Really, I am. It’s just been that sort of week.” *The sort of week that would have gone easier if I’d had you around to talk to,* she added silently. Ami wasn’t surprised when her mother’s next words seemed to pick that thought out of her head; they’d always thought a great deal alike.

“Ami, listen, if you need to talk to me—I mean, face-to-face—just say so. I can always make time for you. This Saturday. We could... I don’t know... have dinner... go shopping... whatever it is mothers and their teenaged daughters are supposed to do when they’re not at work or at school.”

“We’d have to take Usagi-chan and _her_ mother along for a consult on that one,” Ami said, her own smile matching the wry note that had entered her mother’s voice, “just to make sure we get it right.”

“Hmmm. I guess dinner is out, then.”

They both laughed. “Thanks,” Ami said simply, “but I’m okay.” Then she giggled, a sound very different from the laugh she’d just shared with her mother. “As a matter of fact, I already have plans.”

“I’ve _never_ heard you make a sound like that, dear. What sort of mischief will you girls be up to?”

“Oh, it’s not with them. I... have...”—Ami paused and drew it out for several long seconds, during which her mother began impatiently drumming her fingers along the phone—“...a date.”

“A date.” Even though her mother couldn’t see her, Ami nodded enthusiastically. “A _dinner_ date... this Saturday night... with Ryo?”

“Yes!” She actually squealed. There was a beep. “Hold on, kaachan; I’ve got another call.” Ami put her mother on hold and switched to the other line with an ease Usagi or Minako couldn’t have bettered. *When did I get so good at this?* she wondered, at the same time as she said, “Moshimoshi?”

“Ami?”

“Ryo! I was just...” Ami frowned; emotional bonding aside, there had been a definite sort of smiling sound in his voice. “What are you so happy about?”

“That’s what I was calling to ask _you,_” Ryo said, his voice a mix of poorly-hidden exuberance and totally unrestrained frustration. “I got the feeling you were depressed about five minutes ago, and I was thinking about calling you, but then it went away all of a sudden—and then this all bubbly goofiness got started, and I _can’t_ get it to stop! Whatever it is you’re doing, cut it out! If I don’t get this dumb grin off my face soon, my mother’s going to think I was poking around in Dad’s liquor cabinet!”

“I’m just talking to my mother, Ryo-kun,” Ami said innocently. “I don’t know why _that_ would make you feel silly. Now if you’ll excuse me, she’s on hold on the other line. We’re probably going to chat for another hour or so, and by then it’ll be time for me to get to bed, so I’ll talk to you at school tomorrow.”

“Ami!”

“’bye!” She hit the button and smothered an explosive burst of giggles. *That was an EVIL thing to do,* Ami scolded herself, as she took her mother off hold. “I’m back.”

“That was quick.”

“Setsuna lent a hand,” Luna said, sliding the door to Rei’s room shut. “She transformed and put that March of Time on me, and it lasted until I was just coming up the stairs.”

“Sounds like a very handy ability.”

“Yes, it is. The only problem is that it speeds up _every_ part of the body, so my stomach burned through what little I was able to eat before you called, and now I’m getting hungry again.” Luna gave the three birds perched about the room a speculative sort of look—and Phobos and Deimos returned a flat stare which said they’d peck her eyes out if she tried what that look suggested she was thinking—and then she put them out of her mind as she came over to the low table and looked down at the Book. “It hasn’t done anything since he went in?”

“Nothing different than it usually does.”

“And you haven’t seen Rooky since he disappeared?”

Rei shook her head. “Luna, does the Book _usually_ swallow people and things it finds offensive?”

“Not that _I_ ever heard. And believe me, if it had happened, I would have heard about it somewhere. So we have to assume this has as much to do with Rooky as it does with the Book.”

“What do you mean?”

“Merlin told us he found Rooky in an area of wild magic,” Luna reminded her. “That’s how he got the ability to speak—but maybe that’s not _all_ he got. Has he done anything unusual since we brought him back with us?”

“Except for talking, no. He steals a lot of things, especially shiny ones, but so do all sorts of ordinary birds. He doesn’t get along with Phobos and Deimos—or rather, they don’t get along with him—but that’s hardly what I’d call unusual; they don’t trust _anybody_ until they’ve had a chance to get to know them.” She noticed the look her two little friends were still giving Luna and smiled. “And sometimes not even then.”

Luna nodded absently and folded her arms, one hand cupping her chin as she considered the Book. Finally she sighed and shook her head. “I think we need to get Ami to take a look at this with her computer. Until we know for sure what happened, we can’t risk...”

“Pretty Rei-diiii!”

All five beings in the room flinched backwards as Rooky came shooting straight out of the Book, a black-beaked bullet of frantic feathers.

“Pretty Rei-di! Rooky is back! Rooky finds the glowing worms for the pretty Rei-diii!”

“Rooky, come down here!”

The small crow fluttered down to the table and hunched in on itself. “Pretty Rei-di’s mad at Rooky? Rooky’s sorry, pretty Rei-di. Forgive Rooky, pretty Rei-di? Pretty please, pretty Rei-di?”

“You scared me,” Rei said, softening her tone. “I was worried you might be hurt.”

“Rooky’s sorry, pretty Rei-di. But look!” He tugged lightly at the sleeve of her robe, pulling towards the open Book. “Look at what Rooky finds for the pretty Rei-di! Rooky finds the glowing worms!”

“Rei,” Luna cautioned her.

“I won’t touch it, I...” Rei looked at the pages and blinked. The words had changed again—no surprise there—but the very first word in the very first line of the new text stood out plain as day:

Caduceus.

“How did...”

“Rooky finds the glowing worms for the pretty Rei-di!” Rooky announced triumphantly. “Awp!”

Luna looked at Rooky, at Rei, and down at the nonsensical mess on the open pages. “Rei, what is he going on about?”

“Luna, there’s paper and pencils on the desk over there. Get me some. Hurry. I have to write this down before it fades away.”

“Write _what_ down?”

Rei looked up. “I don’t know how, but I think Rooky just found the Caduceus for us.”

“For the pretty Rei-di!” Rooky croaked proudly.

 

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