Jupiter's Orbit "Good morning world," the fresh face looking astronaut said. The camera showed the manly man of dairing reclining in the captain's chair with an impressive looking number of brightly colored dials, switches and readouts busily flashing around him. "This is Captain Reilly aboard the Irons corporation Jupiter Challenger," he said into the camera, "here to give you a rundown of today's mission plan for this day, May twenty-third 2976 a.d. After dropping our probes into the depths of Jupiter last night, we've successfully brought our ship into geosyncronous orbit around Europa and are preparing to launch our fuel shuttle with mission specalists Goldfarb and Li." The camera switched to two pretty young ladies one semetic the other orental who waved to the camera from within an airlock. "They are going to descend to the frozen surface of Europa and...." I switch off the transmission staged for the consumption of the public and ask, "Status?" "Altitude five thousand kilometers. Descent rate two hundred meters per second. Thusters at thirty percent. Reaction mass flow nominal. Fusion reactor at eighty percent," the computer answers. In reality, it's just me out here in space, me and my computer compainion, that is. After the disappearance of the Saturn probe I couldn't get any volunteers to go on this mission so I had to do it myself. Besides, my real reason for being here is not to just test the feasability of using Jupiter as a refuelling stop but to try and reactivate the wonder of the Ancients: the Spire of Jupiter. That's a nugget information I wouldn't share with Crystal Tokyo, let alone the other governments or populace of Earth. That portion of the mission turned out to be a failure, though. The remote-controlled drone I dropped could not stand up to the pressure long enough to accomplish its mission of finding the buildings at the base of the spire. I reached the shell below the clouds but got shoved around by the winds too much and exhausted my drone's fuel. After that it was just a matter of time before the pressure crushed it. It returned a lot of other scientific data as well, but that was just to add color to my cover story. It was kind of funny to watch those three fakes try and explain things to the scientists that quizzed them on the air. But the've actually done a good job of covering up what's really going on so I shouldn't laugh. Since I hate the spotlight I thought up this little ruse. What is being broadcast is actually coming from three actors aboard Jupiter Challenger's incomplete sister ship "Far Voyager" in orbit around the moon. I avoid getting in the news if at all possible. The world is paranoid enough about Crystal Tokyo without them finding out the Irons corporation is run by me. Unlike the bridge aboard the phoney Jupiter Challenger, I have hardly any switches or crap like that. The computer does most of the flying anyway, why complicate your life with clutter. Oh sure, if he broke down, I'd wind up talking to one of his stupider subprocesses but even then, I don't need no stinkin' switches. Manual override, puh-leeze! "Bring the reactor up another five percent," I say watching the descent, "The winds coming off the boiling seas of Europa can be treacherous." "I'm sorry, Captain," the computer says calmly, "but Europa is completely encased in ice. I detect no updrafts. Are my sensors in error?" "No PAL that was just an old memory of mine. Keep the reactor a little high, though, just in case company shows up. What do the watchdogs say?" "They detect nothing out of the ordinary although Wachdog eight has a report." The video screen is graced by the profile of an anthrophamorphic bloodhound dressed in a tan trenchcoat. The programmers for the A.I.s have a sense of humor, so it seems. On the bloodhound's forhead is the roman numeral for eight. The A.I.'s psudo personality says in a growly voice, "Well, sir, I've detected a new moon of Jupiter in a highly elliptical orbit. It is nickle-iron with an irregular shape. I've been sniffing around and this is smells like a recently captured asteroid. In approximately fifty years, it will leave Jupiter's orbit due to a perterbation caused by Saturn. As you are oficially its human discoverer, would you like to name the new moon?" "Good dog, eight," I praise the artificial intellegence. His doggie face beams at the compliment is then replaced on the screen by a view of the new moon. I pause to consider it for a moment and then answer solumnly, "name it Nephrite." He was only with her for a short time too. I wonder when that gets back to Crystal Tokyo will Jupiter remember him. Or has she still forgotten him as Venus has forgotten me. "Nephrite," PAL says, "Blue-green stone of the jade family. Why did you choose to call it that, Captain?" "Private reasons PAL. For a laugh I briefly considered calling it sempai. But nobody deserves to be teased about a broken heart." "Sempai: Japanese word for upperclassman. Why would that be funny in relation to the planet Jupiter?" "When we get processer speed up another couple of gigaflops I'll have the software engineers give you a sense of irony." "I would appreciate that Captain Irons. Though the acronim for my name is drawn from the words 'perfect artifical logic,' I am still far from perfect." "Status?" "Altitude two thousand kilometers. Descent rate two hundred meters per second. Thusters at thirty percent. Reaction mass flow nominal. Fusion reactor at eighty-five percent." "Other than running the reactor a little high, use your best judgment for the rest of the descent," I say to the computer with a yawn, "I think I'm going to take a little nap. Wake me when we land." Since PAL takes things a little too literally I add, "or if the watchdogs spot anything unusual, or if there is a malfunction that signifcantly affects performance." "Yes, captain." The secondary mission of this trip is to land on Europa in order to study the feasability of using it as a refueling station. What we need there is water to use as reaction mass. At least humanity has gone beyond using messy, dangerous chemical rockets for us. Just clean steam heated by a fusion reaction in a magnetic bottle. Pah! Here it is, a thousand years after Apollo and I'm using something little better than the thing Evil Kineval tried to jump the Snake River with. I tell you, ever since Neo Queen Serenity brought magic back humanity's gone all stupid on me. Given my perspective I saw the accelerating pace of technology first hand. In one lousy centry just before Crystal Tokyo opened the magical wells, humanity went from horse drawn to jet propelled. By now we should have warp drive and subspace radio and anti-gravity and all the neat crap in all the science fiction stories. Instead of driving toward technological goals, everybody got sidetracked by magic. So what I'm left with is equipment not much better than stuff I could have gotten in the late twentieth century. Thus my road leads me to Europa, the world of water to refill my gas tanks. I half expect to find a big ol' black monolith waiting for me on the surface. (Considering the Ancients, it would hardly be a surprise.) All we have to do, though, is land the fuel shuttle. (A fancy name for a water tank with engines.) Poke a hole in the ice with a laser and pump up the water. If we refuel this way, the Irons Corporation can cut costs for deep space ships in half. The less reaction mass I have to haul into orbit the more you devote to payload. The more payload, the greater the profit. (Make no mistake, profit is what drives most endeavors. If you can turn a sheckle at it people need no prompting to join in.) Which is also why I'm out here. If I can get humanity off its collective duff maybe the Silver Millenium can rise without having to use the Ancient's Wonders. I look at the swirling mass of clouds that is the planet Jupiter snort at the little metaphore. I remember the last time I was in Jupiter's orbit. Ferrite slept, and I was just Robert Davis, computer cram school teacher. It was the end of the school year, and I was packing to leave.... "Well, that's the last of it," I say to myself as I stash the final items in my suitcase. I just have to get to the airport to catch my flight and I leave Tokyo for good. It'll be good to get back to the States again; there never seemed to be enough room to spread out here. I'd said goodbye to my class, who are graduating soon and many of them are moving on to college and careers. Yes, my time here is done. I must say, my four years here have been enlightening. You never quite get an appreciation for another culture until you live abroad. Despite all the weirdness, the strange monster attacks and unexplained occurences. One of the things about living here is that I have pretty much been on my own. Oh, sure I've met people had a few aquaintances but nothing really breaks the solitude I've experienced. That's one of the things you don't think about when you go to a strange city. Sure you make a fresh start but you also lose any family or support you might have had. For a time there were a couple of women I was seeing, though. First it was that jewelry store owner, Osaka Myuko for a while. I kinda have trouble remembering why that one ended. I kind of have a hard time remebering a lot about my first year here. Oh, well, not imortant now. I pick up my briefcase and stash a few loose items and notice my school identification card. That reminds me of that teacher I went out with... Haruna Sakurda; now there was a memorable woman. We even got jumped by one of those strange monsters while we were taking a walk through the park. It looked like something serious was going to happen when that coworker of hers proposed to her. Seems he had loved her from afar and couldn't bring himself to overcome his shyness until he saw her going out with some gaijinn. Then I counterproposed. Ah life, it came down to her choosing him or me and she chose him. So here I am, on my own staring at an empty apartment. Ah, can't get maudlin' gotta' be moving on. I'm about to grab my stuff for the taxi when my cell phone rings. Huh, lucky I set my service to cut off at the end of the day. I take it out of my pocket and say, "Moshi-Moshi, this is Robert Davis." "Ah, Mr. Davis," a male voice says in english, "I'm glad I caught you. My name is Mark, I'm calling on behalf of Japan Air Lines. It seems we've overbooked your flight and you've been bumped to our nine p.m. flight." "What!?" I exclaim. "We're really very sorry sir, all your other connections have been rescheduled, you won't even have such a long layover in Los Angeles." I just sigh at this strange turn of events, "Okay, I say. Give me the confirmation numbers." He does so and I jot them down in my notebook. He apologises again very profuesly and then hangs up. Great, stuck in Tokyo for a couple of extra hours. I suppose I could go hang around the airport a couple of hours longer than I expected. Then, I think that there is still one last item of business I should attend to before I go. I'd like to drop by Kino Makoto's place and say goodbye. Now that she has reached her majority, she doesn't need me to play her father anymore. I used to do that when she needed an adult to sign the lease on her apartment. It would probably be a good idea to come clean with her apartment house manager. If just to make the transfer of the apartment to her name go smoothly. It is a short hop on the train to the station near her house. I walk up to her apartment and knock on the door but nobody's home. The school year is ended, where could she be. Oh well, might as well just see the manager. I really don't want too much fanfare when I leave. I turn around and find myself nose to nose with Mrs. Mitaka. "Oh, you startled me," I say. "Ah, Kino-san," she says, "it is so infrequent I see you. I'm glad to see you are in town today. I was afraid you'd miss your own daughter's graduation." Graduation! I repress the urge to slap my forehead. Of course, everyone in my cram school class was talking about it. I'd been so wrapped up in my move that I'd forgotten it was today. That's probably where Mako is now. My students were all excited about the ceremony and how their parents were going to watch them 'take the walk.' Poor Mako doesn't have anyone. Then I resolve to do something about that. "Yes, Mitaka-san, I had to hurry back here and forgot something. I carelessly left my key, could you let me in please." "Certainly," she says opening the door with her pass-key. "I step inside and spy a couple of invitations, incongruously left out on the desk. Collecting them and a couple of other things, I make for Juban high school. I come in and take a seat as far forward as I can. The ceremony has started. I draw a few stares as I sit down, "Who is this foreigner and what is he doing here?" Still the quickly turn away and concentrate on their children receiving their diplomas. The girls are all dressed in their high school uniforms; the last time they will all be so dressed. After this it is college and career as they become adults. Occasionally, there is a small shout or cheer as decorum is breached by parental enthusiasm. Finally, I see Mako, who stands a head taller than all the other girls. When it is her turn she starts to take her walk. Her face is impassive, as if this is nothing more than just another day, another simple progression in her life. It is quiet as she steps to the podium. She is here alone. "Mako," my voice rings out through the quiet, "Mako, they see and are proud." Startled, she looks over to see who spoke and sees me sitting there holding the two large photographs of her mother and father that I took from her apartment. Realization comes to the parents around me of the meaning of my words and then they respectfully nod their approval. For a moment, she falters, but then straightens even taller than before and strides forward to take her diploma. A tear glistens in her eye but a smile is on her face. What once was an event marking the passing of time is now a one of triumph as the moment is transformed. The mood pervades the rest of the ceremony as others note the jump this is in life. Things progress quickly from there and it seems like but a moment before the graduation ceremony is over. Afterwards, in the crush of relatives and well-wishers I search for Makoto to return her pictures. I spot her easily enough, in a knot of her friends. Hmm... the who gang of five is there, Ami, Rae, Usagi, and Minako along with Mako. The other girl's parents and family mill about too. Odd, there's this knot of young women mixed in with the girls, but strangely apart. One has short blond hair but dresses like a man. Her stance is shoulders up arms akimbo; I wonder if anyone has ever mistaken her for a boy. The second is a young woman with ???? hair, under her arm is a violin case. She must be playing at the recital that is scheduled for later. The younges of the group is about fifteen with pale skin and raven black hair. She stands between the first two and holds their hands, like she were the daughter to this odd family. Finally, there is an older woman with small, fine features. She looks at me and smiles slightly, as if I were an old aquaintance unexpectedly met. About that time, Makoto sees me and starts plowing through the throng. "Mako..." I begin but she thows her arms around me and buries her head in my chest, sobbing. The others are busily looking at anything but the scene before them. I stroke her hair soothingly till she quiets. "Thank you, Davis-san. Thank you." "That's all right, Mako. I'm glad to be able to... help you so. I will remember this for the rest of my life." "I had my friends and all but, I... miss my family. Then you..." and she burst back into tears of joy again. I start to get a little misty eyed at this too. Mako deserves someone to be there for her all the time. "Look up, Mako. Look up." She does so and sees me staring off into the clouds. For a moment, I think I can see the people in the pictures I hold. "Mako listen to me." As I speak I seem to reach into my soul, speaking with a voice from the ages, "Though we walk alone on this earth I feel that with every fiber of my being that those who love us are with us even if they are gone. Not in memory or spirit but really there. All we need to do as we walk is to stop staring at the rocky path we tread and look up into the heavens and see them. Look up Mako. Look up." I clasp her hands about the pictures and pass them on to her. She looks off into the clouds and absently drifts a step away from me. "Excuse me," she says quitely, "I need to think for a while." The pictures I carred she now holds close to her heart. The rest of the girls watch her walk down the path and they whisper among themselves. The green haired woman steps over to me and says, "What you did was very nice." "Thank you," I say looking over at her, "I'm lucky I was bumped from my flight or I might not have been here." An odd smile turns up the corners of her lips deligtfully as though she were privy to some joke. "You'd better hurry," she says, "your time here is done." "What?" I ask, unsure of her meaning. "We've landed," she says in the computer's voice. * * * "What?" I ask blinking away the dream. "You asked me to wake you when we'd landed, Captain," PAL reminds me. We have successfully landed on the surface of Europa and I am deploying the laser along with my remotes to begin drilling. You might want to look at some flight footage I recorded during our descent. There appears to be ship, similar to an ancient ocean going vessle, trapped in the ice. "What? Why didn't you wake me?" "Discovering the ship anamoly falls outside those parameters. You told me to let you sleep until we either landed or if the watchdogs spotted anything unusual or . . ." "All right, all right, "I interrupt, "just run the tape." The computer runs through the display and I see a sky galleon under a thin coat of ice. It must have crashed just after Europa froze. "Stop!" I say when the image shows something interesting, "rewind, pause. Zoom... zoom... stop." I get a good look at the figurehead: A lovely lady in green with her fist upraised clutching a thunderbolt. "I know that ship," I exclaim, "that's the "Lady of the Storm," it's the Cloud clan imperial galleon." "Sensors record that it is under as much as three meters of ice in places from accumulated by vapors refreezing from cracks in the ice. The hull is largely intact, though, indicating a soft landing. It is located approximately thirty kilometers north, northeast of our position." "You continue refueling operations, I'm going to go check it out," I say. I go down to the air lonck and put on a space suit with a flight pack. I never did trust those new-fangled air belts they use on the moon. If an air stone wasn't made by the Ancients, I don't want anything to do with it. Packing a laser pistol, I set off toward the relic from the past. The wonder I feel as I skim the surface of they icy moon, Europa, is awesom. Jupiter dominates the sky, filling the view with rusty reds and dusty yellows. My flight jets lull me with their low growl as I rush over the ice. The cracks wizz underneath my feet giving me the impression of tremendous speed while the looming giant of a world seems to freeze me in place. Soon enough though, I reach my goal: the sky ship of the Clan Lord of Jupiter. The masts protrude from the accumulated ice reaching out to the void in which it once sailed. I play my suit lights over her hull and check her for damage. Her drive stone must have started to fail the night of the Fall. Still, her captain brought her down for a soft landing. I imagine the crew's horror and hopelessness as they watched the planet freeze around them. Finally the air stone would cease to warm the bubble of air it provided and then they too froze. I remember the number of past lives where I was killed by the cold and repress a shiver. Just to hear anyone's voice I ask, "are you getting this through the audio visual link, P.A.L.?" "Yes, captain," the computer answers levelly, "your signal is strong and clear. Water extraction operations are also proceeding normally." "Okay, I'm going aboard to try and recover the log. If they look salvageable, we'll send a remote for the air and drive stones." "Be careful Captain," the computer cautions, "my remotes would not be able to get to your position for an hour." I leap to the deck and use a spurt of my rockets to land softly. My lights pierce the gloom as I look for anyone but there are no bodies visible. The ice is thick over the doors to the aftercaslte and captain's quarters but the cargo hatch is clear. Deciding to try and navigate the narrow corridors rather than melt the ice with my laser pistol, I drop down into the gloom. Inside, the crew lies frozen around the remains of a fire. It must have been their last act of desperation. The fire would have kept out the cold but used up the air faster than the air stone could have possibly replaced it. I mutter a prayer for their souls, hoping that they now sail a sea where the winds are fair and the sailing smooth. The door to the aft crew's quarters is frozen shut but I break it down with a few kicks. Exiting the cargo hold, I clamber down the hallway to the captain's cabin. Surpisingly, the door to his room opens with a simple turn of the knob. Two men sit in the two chairs wrapped in a blankets one with his face covered. The captain, judging by his uniform, looks like he's napping after a long day on the bridge. A bottle of brandy sits frozen on the table between them. The log book lays open across his lap with a quill pen resting across it's open pages. Careful not to disturb him I read over his shoulder. His last entry reads, "The airstone is inexplicably failing like the drivestone. The Ancients have at last withdrawn their gifts to humanity. I gave the crew orders to light a fire, they at least deserve to die warm. My fingers are too numb to record much more. So this is how it ends, not in fire but in ice, like the prophets have warned. I've done my final duty, though. The Clan Lord rests eternally now and the Jovian moon cat has been secured in the hopes that whomever finds us will be able to take her home. If anyone reads this, please see our passenger back to her clan. She is our most precious posession." "King? Moon cat? Here!?!" I say aloud. I flip back the blanket from the face of the other unfortunate and sure enough, it is the clan Laird of the McCloud clan of Jupiter just as I remember him from twelve thousand years ago. Folded in his hands is his journal. He must have been on his way to the conference on the Moon the night of the fall. I play my lights around the room with new frevor. There is a chance that the cat might have survived; whenever a moon cat was transported by ship, a time capsule was brought along for their safety. The ancient artifact could protect the cat for an indeterminate amout of time even against the void. Then I see it! There! Resting on the bed is one of they grey time capsules, still intact after all these years. I start to reach for it when P.A.L. says something that makes my blood run cold, "Captain, watchdog six reports a contact rising from *inside* the depths of Jupiter." "Damn it!" I shout, shattering the silence, "So that's how the bastards snuck up on the Saturn probe!" I swear a blue streak as I pack the log and the journal into my pack. "Prepare for immediate launch," I order P.A.L. "Warm up the engines on the Jupiter Challenger too. Be ready to get underway the moment I get back to the shuttle." I snatch up the capsule and cram it into the bag with the other two treasures. Drawing the laser pistol, I set it on maximum and fire at the wall. The thin atmosphere of Europa rumbles with thunder for the first time in eons as the hull is blasted open. Leaping clear of the Lady of the Storm, I run around to the side facing the fuel shuttle and take off. Pouring on the speed I reach the ladder just as PAL jettisons the pumping tube. The second I'm in the airlock I order, "Launch immediately, I'll ride here in the airlock. Freely exceed safety margins by fifty percent, it's all or nothing now! We've got to dock with Jupiter Challenger as fast as possible." I drop the rocket pack and just lie here in my E.V.A. suit clutching my precious discoveries to my chest. The thunder of our engines resonates on the thin atmosphere of the cold moon of Jupiter as PAL pushes the fuel shuttle beyond its limits. Metal protests our abuse as we accelerate as fast as our engines possibly can. The reaction mass we went to such pains to get is used extravigantly in our flight. There's a momement or two of zero gravity as PAL pivots us in midcourse but that passes almost immediately. Clutching the module protectively I get banged around during these manuvers despite my grip on a hand hold. With a precision that no human could possibly match, we decelerate smoothly into the shuttle bay of the Jupiter Challenger and I hear the grapling locks clang shut. "Blow the door!" I shout ugently, "Don't bother equilzing the atmospheres we can repair the seals later." The airlock snaps open and I'm blown back against the bulkhead by the overpressure. When the rush is over, I push off and zoom down the tunnel that runs the length of Jupiter Challenger to the bridge. Inside the control room, I open my emergency suit repair kit and smear a glob of the fast setting, repair glue on the right side command seat. I take the sleep module and stick it to the acceleration couch. Plopping myself into the center couch, I shout, "Okay, PAL, to Earth as fast as the engines will move us." In response, I'm pushed back into my seat by the acceleration. "Signal panic party to the folks back home," I order, "feed as much of this back to the networks as you can without compromising our true mission or what is really going on." I look at the video of the actors and start to see them react as if they were actually in the dangerous situation I really am. "Okay, that's looking right," I say satisfied that our cover story will coincide with what is actually happening here. It wouldn't do to have some smarty pants with a back yard telescope contradicting us when Jupiter Challenger gets back... if we get back. "Start sending the peace messages to the ship in the gas giant," I add, "maybe their disposition has changed since Saturn." "Watchdog three has a visual," PAL informs me. On one of my video screens an image of a large spikey construct, that looks like a crystal Christmas tree ornament rises out of the clouds of Jupiter "The unidentifed object is on an intercept course and will overtake us in one hour and twenty three minutes," P.A.L. says calmly. "And no telling how soon we may be in range of his weapons," I add, "Okay, PAL, bring the watchdogs into a screen between us and him. Is there any way we can out run him?" "Even if we jettison all unnecissary equipment and the Jupiter Challenger plots a maximum acceleration, no-salvage course, our pursuer will still overtake us in three hours." The computer says. I procees the verdict and tell the computer to activate a preset program, "That does it, run best of show." "Password?" "That is not my dog." Alarms immediatly sound across the ship indicating immenant critical overload of one of the ship's three engines. Panic party transmissions from the actors back home show the three 'astronauts' frantically trying control an engine where something was very very wrong. In desperation they throw several impressive looking switches with bright red bars marked "danger" and such. Aboard the real Jupiter Challenger, I hear the explosive bolts go off aft sending the hissing sputtering engine tumbling off the back into our trailing vapor stream. The engine flares brightly as the superheated gasses emitted by engines one and three wash over it. The Jupiter Challenger slows a bit at the lost efficiency and in the broadcast, the astronaught's faces show immense relief at their momentary safety. In reality, I pop open my helmet face plate and jam a cigar in the corner of my mouth. Sure it's a dirty habit that's bad for your health but I picked it up in one of my previous russian jet-jockey incarnations and I still do it in tense situations. I chomp on it angrily as I watch the engine tumbling in our wake. The aliens make no reaction to the discarded junk. "That's it," I croon to my spikey persuers, "ignore that little bit of debri. It's just a little radioactive but nothing to get all excited about. Come after me, come and get the little upstart that dares to explore." Well away from planet Jupiter at last, the crystal ship accelerates and closes the distance between us even faster. "Okay PAL," I tell the computer, "bring the watchdogs in a little closer but let one straggle a bit. If the alien is hostile that'll give him something to fire on first. I don't want there to be any doubt about..." A bright flare on the screen interrupts me. "Watchdog four has been destroyed by some sort of electrical weapon." PAL says calmly. "Okay, PAL," I say shifting the cigar to the oppostite side of my mouth, "let him have it with the communication laser." When I was reading the newspaper before Jupiter Challenger's launch, I noticed something funny: my communication laser's listed output was one tenth of what it actually is. Silly of them to drop a zero that way. The laser turns on the crystal U.F.O. and starts firing pulses of high intensity light. This close in, the laser could vaporize steel. There is a flare where the beam strikes some sort of shield on the crystal ship but it sitll pokes a nasty hole in one of the crystal spires. The spire goes dark and and I observe secondary flashes within the structure. They slow a bit, apparently diverting power from the drives, and the shield intensifies. His shields could have easily handled a laser one tenth the strength he's getting now. Hm, I guess the aliens read the same papers I do. "Laser beam now has no effect," Pal informs me, "They are apparently increasing the power to their radiant energy shield. They will still overtake us, though more slowly." "Okay PAL, stage two attack," I order, "Watchdogs to dobermans." "Password?" "Get em' boys." The watchdog satellites suddenly shed their heavy sensor packages and activate hidden reactors. Accelerating to fantastic speed, they commence to strafing the crystal ship with rail gun fire. Shields set to absorb radiant energy from my laser allow the projectiles to fly right through unimpeded. The spray of iron projectiles slam into their pretty, crystal ship causing massive damage. I note secondary explosions and several more of the spikes grow dark. Panicing, they switch their shields to stop the dobermans completely forgetting about me. Me and my laser that is. Heh! Heh! I play the laser across the surface of their ship gouging a deep track in the facuets of their skin. I actually manage to completely sever one of the larger spires and it goes tumbling off into space. Someone over there quickly takes charge of the situation, though, because they block my laser again and start to methodically eliminate the dobermans. He's a smart one too because he concentrates on those that are just beginning their attack runs while ignoring those circling for another pass. The trouble is, they've still got plenty of fight left, and I'm running out of dobermans. In a second, that won't matter though. "PAL, stage three attack. Big dog bites." "Password?" "Sic' em' rover!" At a command from PAL, the jettisoned engine, which is now quite close to them, stops tumbling and lines up on the crystal ship. This whole dog and pony show with the satellites was just to get to this point. The real threat is now. In a bright flash of light, the weapon disguised as an engine detonates in a white hot blast of nuclear fire. Using precise timing down to the picosecond, a series of nuclear explosions, compress and direct a fusion reaction at their heart to lash the alien ship with a spray of fusing nuclei which slam into their shields like a solar flare. The fusion beam rips into the screens with a powerful blast of cosmic, gamma, and x-rays of incaclulable power. The shields seem to hold for a split instant before they give way completely to the onslaught. Like a chandelier, the light is reflected and refracted a million times in a beautiful spray of deadly color before the whole ship is transformed into a glowing ball of ionized gas. The Jupiter Challenger rumbles a bit as the shockwave washes over us but we barely feel the death throes of the alien ship. "PAL, damage report." "Sensor arrays are overloaded and photo-electric cells are saturated but will be online in moments. All dobermans except number five have been destroyed and it is heavily damaged. Otherwise, ship function is nominal." I look at the video going out back home and it shows the aliens, in a feat of astounding clumsiness, running over the engine and exploding. I just have to laugh at that. "Masterful cut-and-splice job, P.A.L." I say with a chuckle, "truly artful." "Thank you captain," the computer says, "I coputed that would be the best way to account for the alien's destruction." "Okay," I say as my laughter abates, "after you download the doberman's sensor records, have him play dead with orders to bite any ship that doesn't give him the following password, "good doggie." Run, a happy ending for the folks back home and then set a course for home maximum possible speed. I don't want to give these guys another crack at us." I look at the moon cat sleep module and say, "looks like this mission wasn't a total bust, though." "Will you be opening it before you get back?" The computer asks. "No, I think I'll wait," I say with a sigh, "The company would be nice, but that's what I have you for, PAL." "Why, thank you, captain." "Besides," I add with a chuckle, "The nearest litter box is a loooong way away." Crystal Tokyo military defense headquarters Office of Senshi Jupiter several years later. The courier from the Irons Corporation Security, stood at attention before the desk of Makoto Kino. Though he wasn't an officer in the army of any nation state, he did have a professional air of one steeped in military tradition. After introductons were made, he played a projection beam on the wall and Ferrite's image appeared. The recording began to play, "Makoto, I'm sorry that I am not here to present you these things in person but events in court may preclude any familarity with me. Since I first met you that afternoon back in ninteen-ninety-two I was struck by your independence. From the very beginning you have met the challenges laid before you largely on your own. Though you have had your friends at your side in your battles, in your personal life you were always lacking for something of perminance and continuity. Hopefully, what this courier delivers to you will provide some solace for all the lonely years and a bridge to your past can be formed." The image faded and the courier put the projector away. He then took out the log book and the journal from his satchel and laid them on the table. Next to them he placed a translation in Ferrite's handwriting. Makoto gasped at the sight of the journal as a memory long buried bubbled to the surface, "Papa's diary." Finally, the courier placed the stasis module on the desk and activated it. After a moment of hissing gas, the module split open and a beautiful white persain cat with a yellow crecent moon on her forhead sat blinking in the light. It looked into Mako's eyes and a connection to the past was reforged. "Give captain Ferrite my thanks," she said quietly. The courier clicked his heels once smartly and left. The cat leaned forward and affectionatly butted its head against Makoto's forehead. Gathering up the cat in her harms, Makoto gently hugged it to herself and wept.