I have a message from another time...

                     Eyrie Productions, Unlimited
                               presents

                UNDOCUMENTED FEATURES FUTURE IMPERFECT
                   - SYMPHONY OF THE SWORD No. 2 -

                            Overture in E

                         Benjamin D. Hutchins
                              Anne Cross
                         with Kris Overstreet

                (c) 2002 Eyrie Productions, Unlimited


                      SATURDAY, JANUARY 7, 2406
                         HANNIBAL HAMLIN HALL
	     DEEDLIT SATORI MANDEVILLE MEMORIAL INSTITUTE
                      JERADDO, REPUBLIC OF BAJOR

        Clarissa Broadbank was in a bit of a huff.  It wasn't often
that one of her confederates disappeared -during- a vacation, but this
time it had happened, and she now had to explain to everyone and their
duck that Vigdis Brightblade wouldn't be coming back to school for the
spring semester.  Yes, she came to spend Christmas break at my house
in New Avalon.  No, we didn't have a fight.  Yes, as far as I know
she's fine, she just had to go back to her homeworld for some reason.
Family business.  She didn't tell me.  Yes, very abruptly.  I don't
know, dammit!  She didn't say to expect her back.  When did it become
my job to keep track of her?  No, I did not kill her and hide her body
on the estate!
        She sighed irritably, answered the 11th such email since her
return, and fell back onto her bed, glaring at the ceiling.
        The whole thing smelled wrong.  Vigdis had gone to deliver
Clarissa's father's letter to her sister Liza, who was staying across
town with the hated Hutchins/Morgan clan, and the next thing Clarissa
knew, she was telephoning, sounding very shaken up, to say that she
had to return home immediately on "family business", thank you for
your hospitality, I don't think I'll be back to DSM, I've really
enjoyed knowing you, bye now.
        Not that Clarissa was upset about losing a friend, since she
couldn't really be said to have them.  Nor was she particularly
concerned about the apparent crisis that had called Vigdis home, or
the shaken tone in the girl's voice as she called to make her
apologies.  Nor, for that matter, had she been particularly curious
about the mysterious woman (very tall, brown hair, beautiful but, in
Clarissa's opinion, rather stupid-looking) who had come to the house
to collect Vigdis's things for her that afternoon.
        No, Clarissa was bothered by none of those factors.  She was
irritated at having to explain the damn thing to everybody, but more
than that, she was annoyed at the thought that her old nemeses, the
Hutchins/Morgan family, had something to do with it.  In addition to
the fact that Vigdis's errand was to their house, they were connected
with Professor Skuld Ravenhair, visiting instructor in the physical
sciences, and Vigdis had also had a connection to the professor.  What
was more likely than that the professor had been here, at the hated
house on Morgan Lane?  Had Ravenhair pulled some strings and had
Vigdis called home solely because she had made friends with Clarissa?
That bunch were petty enough for such a maneuver, certainly.
        However it had happened, Clarissa had just lost a naive,
impulsive, easily manipulated ally.  Worse, Vigdis had disappeared
before Clarissa could bring her silly crush on Kaitlyn Hutchins's
half-brother Corwin - Professor Ravenhair's son, no less! - to a boil
and cause the hoped-for ugly scene with Kaitlyn's roommate, the
infuriating Utena Tenjou, who happened to be Corwin's girlfriend.
Clarissa had been expecting that, sometime after Christmas break, she
would be able to goad Vigdis into seeking Tenjou out and causing a
ruckus, perhaps even drawing her into a fight.  That would almost
certainly get Vigdis suspended or expelled, of course, but it would
also smear the Duelists' Society, and possibly get Tenjou, their
precious vice-president, expelled or suspended as well.
        It would have been a good trade, but either the other side had
anticipated the move and removed Clarissa's pawn from the board, or
simple bad luck had caught up with her.  Either way, the plan was
ruined, and now she would have to think of another one.
        She sighed again.  Why were people so damned inconsiderate?

        One floor down, G'Kron had just finished unpacking from his
trip home when the dorm room door slammed open.  Through the door
staggered a heavily laden Mac McKenzie, an enormous bag slung over one
shoulder and a small travel bag clenched in two fingers of one hand.
With a grunt Mac dropped the sack to the floor, tossed his travel bag
onto his bed, and smiled.  "Happy New Year, G'Kron."
        "And to you, my good McKenzie!" G'Kron smiled.  "How was your
Christmas celebration?"
        Mac smirked one of his trademark half-smiles and said, "I
didn't have one."
        G'Kron stared at Mac, then pointed to the sack.  "That doesn't
make sense.  You -obviously- celebrate the occasion, considering the
volume of gifts you've brought back."
        "Those are gifts I'm giving -out- to other people," Mac said.
"I spent Christmas Day alone in orbit over Fornax, watching the fire
rings' light reflect of the dark side of the planet."  Mac's
half-smile grew into a grin as he added, "It was the best Christmas
I've ever had.  Flying from here to Fornax, and then back again,
hauling DSM students to and from their homes for their own Christmas,
working all break, and I get to -keep- the money this time!"
        "Keep the money?"
        "Always a sound business plan if you can manage it," Beld
Marmo said, stepping in around Mac's bundle of presents.  "Welcome
back, McKenzie.  I take it your break was pleasant?"
        "Bliss," Mac said.  "No freight runs, no father leaning on me
to take over the family ship, nothing but myself, my own ship, and
open space."
        "But this makes no sense!" G'Kron blustered.  "Christmas is
supposed to be a time when human families gather together to exchange
presents and expressions of love!  And you spent this holiday off
alone?  By yourself?"
        "(That -is- what alone means, G'Kron,)" Beld muttered under
his breath.
        "No friends or family, off by yourself at the farthest edge of
the Outer Rim?  Why, this is an absolute OU-MMMMPH!!"  G'Kron's eyes
tried to cross as he glared at the small, brightly wrapped package Mac
had just stuffed partway into his mouth.
        "Merry -Christmas-, G'Kron," Mac said with a smile.  After a
moment's further digging, he pulled out another package for Beld
before picking the sack up again.  "I'll be back later.  Deliveries to
make.  Then you can tell me all about -your- vacations."  With that
Mac stepped out of the door, leaving G'Kron to remove the package from
his mouth and unwrap it, to reveal a pair of rainbow-colored toe
socks.
        "I wonder," Beld said quietly, "if this is how the Earther
expression, 'put a sock in it,' was fashioned."
        "Hmph," G'Kron noted with a frown, "the number of toes is
wrong anyway.  My dear Marmo, it occurs to me that something MUST be
done about Mac's total lack of a social life."
        Beld shrugged broadly, throwing his hands up in helplessness.
"What can be done?" he said.  "Besides, it isn't as if you have any
better social life than he does, the baseball team aside."
        "Yes, but I'm a Narn," G'Kron said.  "I'm -supposed- to be
grumpy, rude, and socially unacceptable.  It's in our Constitution,"
he added with a smirk, watching with satisfaction as Beld fell onto
his bed laughing.

        The Duelists' Castle, over at the far corner of campus on its
hill, didn't really have a bustle of returning students about it like
the regular residence halls did.  Most of the residents of the Castle
had only gone away for a few days at Christmas, to attend Kaitlyn's
parents' party at their vacation home on Titan.  The rest had gone on
to New Avalon for that city's famed New Year celebrations, but had
returned midweek.  The only Castle-dweller who had been away for the
whole period was Mia Ausa, who had, upon returning from Titan, gone
almost immediately to Babylon 5.  There she spent the remaining
downtime with her father, now posted there by Network 23.
        So it was into a fairly normal Saturday-afternoon routine,
with people just returning from an impromptu hockey game down on the
frozen surface of Lake Jeradar, that Mac McKenzie hauled his bag of
treats and started doling them out.  He had something for everyone;
even Corwin and his companion Nall Silverclaw, who were not Castle
residents or even DSM students, but who could be counted upon to be
present most any weekend; even Peril, Dorothy Wayneright's pet cat.
        Thus, he looked slightly consternated when introduced to
Kaitlyn's new pet, Sergei - who, as a six-month-old Neo-Siberian
tiger, was even now rather more impressive than your average cat.  Not
because Serge was a tiger; Mac wasn't afraid of cats, whatever their
ultimate size.  No, upon introduction to this newest Castle-dweller,
Mac looked into his bag, then looked back at the tiger and said, "Tell
you what - I'll bring yours next trip."
        Serge seemed to weigh this for a moment; then he butted Mac's
leg with his head and said, "Grmph."
        "OK, good," Mac replied, absently scratching the tiger's ears
before moving on to his next beneficiary.
        As he played Santa and told the Duelists about his working
vacation, the quiet Freespacer was being downright gregarious - until
the tall blonde form of Liza Shustal came down from her room to see
what preparations were being made for dinner.  As soon as she entered
the library, Mac stopped talking - became, in fact, more or less
unable to talk.
        A few of the more inquisitive, perceptive Duelists, including
Mia and the t'skrang T'skaia, had noticed this curious symptom
overtaking McKenzie each time he'd found himself in Liza's presence
since her return from being missing, last Thanksgiving.  It amused and
concerned them in about equal measures.  Now Azalynn dv'Ir Natashkan
(once Liza's mortal enemy and now her lover) hid a smile behind her
hand, so as not to embarrass Mac further, as he tried several times to
address Liza before finally, with a sound of frustration, writing her
a note asking to speak with her privately.
        Liza, a bit puzzled but ever polite, nodded and followed him
into the empty dining room.  There, Mac delved into his now-mostly-
depleted sack and handed her a large package accompanied by a card.
She opened the card and was startled to discover that its interior was
completely covered by tiny but quite legible handwriting:

Captain-Governor Shustal:

I anticipated that I would not be able to vocalize my feelings towards
you even after the winter holiday, and decided instead to attempt to
express myself on paper.  Please forgive the formal and impersonal
nature of this document, but I have not found any better means of
communicating with you my sincere regret for what has passed between
us in the past.

On three separate occasions, through the assistance of your
dormitory's RAs and certain factors of my upbringing, I have violated
your privacy for the purpose of exacting petty vengeance for your
actions against certain individuals of our mutual aquaintance.  In
light of your subsequent reformation, and the greater understanding of
your former life which has been made available to me, I am now ashamed
of these actions, and express my deepest regret for them.  I most
humbly apologize for the harm I have inflicted upon yourself, your
dignity, and your well-being.

I considered various methods by which I could express in deeds my
regret for my past crimes.  At first I contemplated striking
anonymously against those who have wronged you, but I gave this up
after discovering that Clarissa Broadbank practices much greater
security than you did, and that the Aztechnology complex in New Avalon
is guarded better than most planetary capitols.  To my shame, I did
not realize until after I ceased serious consideration of such actions
that they would, in reality, only be compounding the wrongs I have
committed.

Therefore, over the holidays, I have asked one of my very few
remaining friends on Earth to secure an item from the now closed WPI
campus.  This item, although presented as a Christmas gift, is in
reality your own property, the only thing which I have taken from you
that may be restored by mortal hands.  Please accept it as earnest for
my repentance of past deeds against you.

I wish you the greatest happiness and prosperity in your new life, and
am forever at your service,

Your obedient servant,
Harcourt Mudd McKenzie

        Liza read the card slowly and carefully, re-read it once more
quickly, then closed it up and put it in its envelope again.
Carefully, she tore the wrapping paper - 
        - and then laughed as the maroon and silver flag of the
Worcester Preparatory Institute slithered out, still emblazoned above
and below the school's crest with an expensive set of female
undergarments which had been carefully stitched in place.  She'd
always wondered who had done that; the top suspect, though, had been
Devlin Carter, whom Liza's intelligence sources had indicated, with
some degree of credibility, was an accomplished sneak thief.  She'd
never have considered quiet, forgettable McKenzie a viable suspect.
In the back of her mind, she wondered what the other two incidents he
spoke of in the card were.  A couple of possibilities came to mind,
and a slow smile spread across her face as she narrowed the list.
        Then, knowing that he expected some sort of response, she
weighed her options carefully.   If she remained silent too long, the
sensitive young man would assume that she was mortally offended and
never wanted to speak to him again, and he'd slink away in a
depression.  She didn't want that; she actually thought it was quite
sweet of him to come forward this way, and anyway, in a very real
sense his acts of semi-terrorism had been directed at another person -
not Liza Shustal, the Scourge of Vestak Nor.
        On the other hand, if she got silly, he'd freeze up even
worse, stammer, stutter, never be able to say a thing for fear of
saying the -wrong- thing.  So instead, she very carefully folded the
flag, put it and the card under her arm, and told him,
        "Apology accepted, Midshipsman McKenzie.  Thanks for the
memento of old times... "  She grinned.  "Don't be offended if I don't
choose it as the national flag of Jezebel, though."
        Mac blinked, opened his mouth, said nothing, closed it, opened
it again.
        Liza chuckled, reached out, and shut it again with a fingertip
under his chin.
        "Please, McKenzie.  Don't worry about these things too much.
I'm just a girl, not a hyperspace vortex."
        Mac shook his head vigorously, but he didn't seem to have his
powers of speech back yet; he took out the notepad he'd used for the
original note and wrote on it for a moment, then handed it to her.
Liza looked at the inscription and laughed lightly.  Scrawled across
the top sheet, in bold letters, with a large exclamation point,
underlined several times, was the word,
        WOMAN!
        "If you insist," Liza replied with a sly smile, handing him
back the pad.  "Anyway," she added seriously, "thank you, really, for
the apology and the flag.  It's meant a lot to me that everyone has
been able to put aside the things I did and accept the new me.  I hope
when my resort opens this summer, you'll be able to come to the grand
opening."
        Mac swallowed, knowing this required an answer, and managed to
say, "Uh, wha, whaa, wouldn't miss it."
        Liza smiled.  "Good."  Then she leaned over and gave him a
friendly little kiss, nothing too dramatic, and added, "Merry belated
Christmas, Mr. McKenzie."
        When Mac and Liza returned from the dining room, the other
Duelists noticed that the Freespacer was looking a trifle pink and had
regained his powers of speech.  They reacted with more or less obvious
amusement according to their temperament, and when Mac left the
Castle, his bag of gifts empty, there was a certain lightness to his
step that had been absent.

        On Sunday, with the resumption of classes looming both at DSM
and Koopman High, Corwin Ravenhair and Nall prepared to take their
leave and head back to New Avalon.  Normally, when Corwin left after
one of his regular weekend visits, Utena went with him as far as his
car, they said their goodbyes beside it, and then she walked back up
the hill to the Castle and he drove down around the lake to Port
Jeradar.  Today, though, she went with him all the way to the ramp of
the One-Hit Wonder.  Nall said his goodbye, got his scruffling, and
went aboard, leaving the two humans alone.
        They didn't say much for a minute; just stood there with both
hands linked and arms relaxed, looking at each other, until Utena
spoke a single quiet word:
        "Thanks."  She didn't have to go into detail about what for,
which was just as well, since it would have taken her an
inconveniently long time.
        "You're welcome," Corwin replied, smiling.  "Thank -you-."
        It was their first real parting since their trip to the Hotel
Monolith, and after all that had changed and all that had not in the
wake of that fateful night, they weren't really sure how to go about
it.  They looked, a bit awkwardly, at each other for a few moments.
Then Corwin chuckled, scratching sheepishly at the back of his head,
and the tableau was broken; Utena laughed too, put a hand on his chest
and pushed him jokingly away a little.
        "Good luck with Week 1," said Corwin.
        "Yeah - you too."  Then, hastily, she said, "Listen - I've
been thinking... "
        "Yeah?" he asked, attentive.
        "You... you know that Asgardian ceremony that you and Kate
did, years ago?"
        "Wordbinding?  Yeah."
        "I've been thinking... if you wouldn't mind... maybe we should
do that."
        Corwin stared at her in amazement for a couple of seconds,
then grinned and said, "-Mind-?!  Of course I wouldn't mind!  Didn't I
tell you, 'on any terms you'll have me'?"  Then he sobered and added,
before she could speak again, "Only - you'd better be sure you really
understand how it works.  It's a blood tie - not easy to get out of,
if you decide later on it was a mistake."
        Utena shook her head, replying, "No, I understand.  Your Aunt
Urd explained it to me a while back.  I was thinking about asking you
last fall, after everything we went through over the summer, but I
never got around to it... and after my birthday, I think it's 
important."  She rubbed her right thumb over the little scar on her
left ring finger and added, "You know how important symbols have been
in my life... well... after everything, I think it's important that we
have a symbol of what we mean to each other.  Like you said -
everything but.  Right?"
        Corwin thought that over, then nodded.  "Right.  You're
right.  Besides, you and Kate are as close as sisters anyway.  Closer
than some," he added, thinking of the divided Broadbanks.  "It makes
sense... and it's an honor."  He grinned.  "Will this disqualify me
from being best man at your wedding?"
        Utena grinned back and hit him on the shoulder.  "If you're a
god by the time we're back together," she told him, "you can -perform-
my wedding."
        "Say, that's a thought," he replied, and there was not a trace
of bitterness in him as he said it.  "Anyway - I'll talk to Aunt Bell
when I get home about setting up a wordbinding for us.  She'll insist
on officiating," he added, grinning.  "Keep your calendar fluid; it
might take a few weeks to set up."
        Utena nodded.  "I'll be here," she said, smiling.
        The silence descended again, for a few moments; then she
hugged him hard, kissed him gently, and told him, "See you next
weekend, Corwin.  Clear skies."
        He'd said it to her in Old Norse many times, secure in the
knowledge that she wouldn't understand him; but now that it was all in
the open, he no longer felt any bashfulness about saying it in plain
Standard.  So he kissed her on the forehead and replied, "Walk in
glory, my beloved."
        Then he turned around, went up into the body of his ship, and
turned around to wave goodbye with a grin as the ramp closed behind
him.

        Term C-06 went down in the amalgamated history of DSM and its
predecessor, WPI, as the quietest C-term on record.  C-term was
historically a bad time to be a WPI student.  For some reason it
seemed that all the weird crises, personal problems, deaths in the
family, academic self-destructions, and other angst-riddled happenings
that could afflict a WPI student happened in C-term; this had been the
case back in the days when the 'P' stood for 'Polytechnic' and it had
been true at the Preparatory Institute as well.
        Of course, it wasn't really true; the phenomenon was at least
half legend and a quarter observed coincidence - but the legend
pervaded WPI's corporate culture anyway, and some said its expectation
alone was responsible for more than half the misfortunes C-term
brought.  Hell, it hadn't been true the previous year - last year's
_D_-term had been the term to end all C-terms.
        There were whisperings, though, that the move to Jeraddo, the
institute's rebirth as Satori Mandeville Memorial, had broken the
curse.  At DSM, this winter, nobody's uncle died, nobody freaked out,
nobody got whacked up on illegal drugs or flawed black-market simsense
modules and had to go to the hospital.  The hockey team went 0-and-4
in January, bringing their total record since the start of the season
to 1, 6 and 2, but aside from that and an overall snowier-than-usual
winter (according to Prylar Otano and his monks, who had been living
in this area for quite some time), everything went very smoothly that
first C-term on Jeraddo - at least until the end of January.

        "Have you seen this?" an indignant voice demanded, cutting
into B'Elanna Torres's concentration.  She blinked, her place in the
day's assigned study unit for Introductory German lost, and looked
up from her book.
        G'Kron of Narn was standing next to the little table in the
Student Center's common area where B'Elanna had come to study before
dinner, holding a sheaf of paper.  Just for a second, the half-Klingon
girl was tempted to reply, "I have now," knowing that the literality
would give G'Kron, who often wrestled with the Standard language's
curious habits regarding metaphors, pause.  She decided against it,
though.  If she sidetracked the Narn into a sub-rant about the
peculiarities of Standard, he might keep her here all day.
        Instead, she sighed for her lost place and said, "Seen what?"
        "This!" G'Kron replied, slapping the paper down in front of
her.  B'Elanna had time to scan the masthead and note that it was
Volume 2, Number 5 (the January 30, 2406 issue) of the Institute Hill
Beacon, "The Balanced Perspective on Campus Life".  She didn't have a
chance to read the headline, though, because before her eyes had
traveled down the page that far, G'Kron had snatched it back and begun
to read from it.
        "'Ferocious Beast in Waiting'," he read, loudly and
bombastically, as befit a large headline; then, his tone perfectly
indicating a sub-head, he went on, "'Administration Indifferent to the
Danger.  An Expert's Opinion.'"
        B'Elanna had to hand it to him - he knew how to read things
aloud so that they got your attention.  She put down her pen, leaned
back in her chair, and listened.
        "'Since the start of Term C-06,'" G'Kron went on, "'this
campus has been home to more than just the students and faculty of our
great institution, and the selected, harmless pets of some students.
Since January 8, it has also been home to a creature which, though
harmless-seeming now, will one day soon pose a manifest danger to the
lives and safety of all of us.
        "'This creature is, of course, the so-called neotiger which
has lately resided in the Castle, home also to our illustrious
Duelists' Society.  It seems that, no longer content merely to risk
their own lives in their ill-assorted mock combats, the Duelists have
found it sporting to risk the lives of all the denizens of our fine
Institute in a potentially fatal game of random chance.'"
        B'Elanna blinked.  "Do -huh-?" she said.
        G'Kron waved a hand impatiently.  "Oh, wait, it gets better,"
he assured her.  "'Neocats were developed in the twenty-second century
by the Wedge Defense Force's notoriously unreliable Life Sciences
Division, creators of such other ill-advised creatures as the Project
Cretaceous neosaurs (including the extremely lethal dilophosaur) and
the infamous Romero Imps which devastated part of the city of New
Avalon in 2392.  The LSD claims that neocats are perfectly safe
companion animals, their hunting and killing instincts bred out in
favor of a love of play and sentient companionship.  Other more
reputable scientists, however, dispute these claims.
        "'"Despite what the Wedge Defense Force's engineers claim, you
simply cannot remove the predatory instincts from the great cats,"
says Dr. Zbigniew Frotzsplatt of Aztechnology's Biotech Research
Division.  "It's not like swapping engines in a car.  The neocat
experiment has been proven, time and again, to be a frivolous
failure."  Dr. Frotzplatt went on to cite three separate incidents in
which a humanoid life form was maimed by a neocat, in one case to
death.'"
        B'Elanna snorted.  "Three.  THREE.  In 200 years of neocats."
        "I've done some research," said G'Kron, nodding.  "Two of the
incidents involved neocats protecting humans.  The third was a clear
case of self-defense.  But you haven't heard the best part yet!
'This, then, is what the administration has allowed the Duelists to
bring into our midst: a male Neo-Siberian tiger, which will, when
mature, weigh somewhere between five and eight hundred Standard
pounds, with commensurate strength.'"
        "Points for using 'commensurate'," B'Elanna noted.
        "Mm, indeed," G'Kron replied absently, nodding.  "'Equipped
with razor-sharp claws, bone-crushing fanged jaws, and a taste for
flesh, this animal is one of Old Earth's most perfect non-aquatic
killing machines, and more than a match for all but the most exotic
members of our diverse student body.  By buying into the neocats'
creators' extremely suspect claims of safety, President Tiefeld's
administration has placed us all at risk.
        "'We call upon President Tiefeld to review his
administration's decision in this matter, taking into account the
unbiased scientific opinions of men like Dr. Frotzsplatt and his
peers, and take steps to remove this threat from our midst before it
grows large enough to pose the full danger of which it is capable.'"
        "Ugly sentence," B'Elanna put in.
        G'Kron nodded, too busy to comment in words, and continued,
his voice rising to a higher pitch of indignation, "'In the meantime,
we urge all students to take common-sense precautions.  Do not travel
the campus alone, especially at night; tigers prefer to hunt in
darkness.  If you can legally go armed, do so.  And if you see the
animal roaming unsupervised, do the smart thing - do not approach it,
and contact the Campus Police immediately!  More lives than your own
may depend on it.'"  The Narn slammed the paper down on the table,
rattling the silverware on the empty plate which had held B'Elanna's
pre-study-session slice of banana cream pie.
        "I cannot BELIEVE that this young lady has nothing more
worthwhile to do with her time than write and publish this... this...  
this DRIVEL!  That she has no greater ambition in life than to harass
a blameless young woman and her equally blameless companion animal!
And that ridiculous assertion about the Life Sciences Division - why,
if it were not for the efforts of the Wedge Defense Force, no one
would HAVE the opportunity to appreciate these mighty beasts in humane
and safe conditions!  How DARE she impugn the work of such dedicated
and brilliant scientists?!  The neocat project is a favor to all
sentientkind, just as was Project Cretaceous - the scientific and
historic value of that effort alone is worth - ohh!"
        The Narn threw up his hands, shaking his head.  "I'm
speechless.  I really am.  I am just DUMBSTRUCK by the sheer,
petty-minded, calumnious, personally-biased IDIOCY of the whole
affair!"  He thumped the newspaper with a thick finger.  "I'll take
this to the Student Ethics Boards, see if I don't," he announced,
nodding his head vigorously.  "Using a student publication to make
such a grotesquely transparent personal attack upon - "
        A hand came down on G'Kron's shoulder then, and a calm, smooth
voice inquired, "Hey, what's all the shouting about over here?"  Beld
Marmo craned to look over G'Kron's other shoulder, then nodded.
"Ahhh, seen today's Beacon, eh?  Well, don't sweat it too much until
you read tomorrow's Intelligencer," the Centauri said with an easy
grin.
        "Wha?"  G'Kron turned his head, gave his roommate a suspicious
look and said, "Marmo, do you know something I don't?"
        Beld's grin widened.  "I know -lots- of stuff you don't,
Spots," he replied; then he clapped G'Kron on the shoulder and ambled
off, saying over his shoulder, "See you at dinner.  Torres, you've
conjugated 'laufen' wrong."
        B'Elanna blinked, looked down at her paper, said, "Huh," and
reached for her eraser.
        G'Kron stared off after the Centauri for a moment, then shook
his head, picked up his paper, and walked off in the other direction,
grumbling.

        The next day, the front page of the Institute Intelligencer
was taken up by a long, erudite, well-researched and meticulously
bibliographed article by Professor Arne Schwellig of the Nekomi
Institute of Technology.  In this article, Professor Schwellig
rebutted the Beacon article's "scientific" claims, provided full
details and documentation on the three incidents cited by Dr.
Frotzsplatt, and explained in clear, easy-to-understand language
exactly why the neocat process worked the way it did, and, therefore,
why the student body of the Institute was in no danger - in fact, he
opined, they were somewhat better protected than before, with a
neotiger around who considered the place his turf.
        Below that, just to add insult to injury, was a pie chart
showing the results of a quite-unscientific all-students poll
conducted by the Intelligencer the previous evening and calculated
just before the press deadline.  It showed that, to the question "What
do you think about the school's resident neotiger?", 90% of the school
populace responded, "Awwwwwww," while only 1% selected "It's a
vicious, dangerous animal, and I'm considering leaving the school if
something isn't done about it."
        Liza Shustal, re-reading the Beacon article at breakfast that
morning, tsked and tossed the paper into the large trash bin next to
the sink.
        "It's such a shame about the Beacon," she observed.  "I mean,
it's always been a rag, but at least their -last- editor could
-write-."
        "I hear she was better-looking, too," noted Azalynn impishly.
        Liza grinned.  "That's the rumor going around," she replied.
        "Get a room, you guys," Utena Tenjou mock-groused as she put
down a platter of pancakes.
        "We've got one," Azalynn said.  "But we have to come out
-sometime- or we'd flunk out.  Are these blueberry?"
        "Yep."
        "Yay!"  Azalynn shoveled a couple onto her plate, buttered
them, added syrup, and added before digging in, "You make the best
blueberry pancakes in the -universe-, Utena."
        "Don't let Mrs. Morisato hear you say that," said Miki Kaoru
cheerily.  "Morning, everyone."
        "Morning, Miki," said the chorus around the table.
        "Growf," added Serge from the depths of his food bowl.
        "Here," said B'Elanna, handing him a copy of the morning
Intelligencer.  "Start your day off right."
        Miki took it, sat down, skimmed the front page, and smiled.
"Leave it to Marmo," he said.
        "Huh?" said Utena as she sat down to her own breakfast.  "What
do you mean?"
        "Oh, he's obviously behind this," said Azalynn.  "The paper's
assistant editor is his boyfriend's roommate."
        Utena cocked an eyebrow.  "Marmo has a boyfriend?"
        "Mm-hmm," said Miki, nodding.
        "Isn't he a Centauri?"
        "Yes."
        "How does -that- work?"
        Miki paused, looked across the table at her, and said gravely,
"I try not to get too involved in considering such matters."
        "'Scuse me, O worldly upperclassmen," said B'Elanna
sardonically.  "Tender-eared freshman over here who -just- covered
Centauri reproduction in Health class... "
        "Relax, B'Elanna," said Miki mildly.  "We're done."
        "Yeah, but so is the damage," B'Elanna replied, then shivered
theatrically.  "Yeek!"
        "Now, now, B'Elanna," Mia Ausa chided her roommate gently.
"Valen teaches us that tolerance is the greatest of virtues.  (Even if
not all of us learn it,)" she added in a wry undertone.
        "I am tolerant!" B'Elanna protested.  "I'm not trying to
-stop- them or anything... just... yeek!"
        Mia considered this, then nodded.  "I suppose that's fair,"
she mused.

        The neotiger pissing match continued in the two papers and on
several of the school's internal newsgroups for the next month.  The
Duelists, for the most part, were content to sit back and let popular
opinion duke it out for them.  Enough defenses of Sergei the tiger
were coming from unaffiliated students and even faculty members that
none of them had to lift a finger.  As for Serge himself, he didn't
care one way or another.  He had important things to do, like play in
the snow with his mistress and her friends, and sleep in front of the
fire in the Castle library, and mooch snacks from visitors.  To thumb
their noses at Clarissa, the impromptu IBGF/IDS intramural ice hockey
squad immediately adopted him as their mascot, then rampaged through
February, at one point defeating the school's official team - not that
this was really much of an achievement, though Utena Tenjou's hat
trick was fairly dramatic even given the weak opposition.
        Unfortunately for Corwin Ravenhair, he missed that game - it
happened on a Friday afternoon, when he would have been in class at
Fritz Koopman Memorial High in New Avalon anyway, but even had it been
held that evening, when by tradition he would have been there, he'd
have missed it this weekend.

        At 1:05 PM, Friday, February 24, 2406, Corwin was in Mr.
Fujisawa's Standard class, doodling in his notebook and thinking about
food.  Not that he was particularly hungry; but on Friday nights, he
went to Jeraddo, and he and Utena went out to eat someplace in the
Bajor system.  (Well, except for the previous one.  -That- had been
surreal, eating their celebratory post-Wordbinding meal at Ping's
Garden in Worcester, but Aunt Bell had been so serene about the whole
thing, and there'd been a mirror there if they really needed it... )
        So, anyway, he was thinking of different genres of food and
what he might suggest during the usual semi-democratic decision phase.
Did he feel like going up to the Marche Movenpick on B5?  Or one of
the other restaurants on the Zocalo?  Or perhaps someplace on Bajor
itself.  Utena hadn't cared much for the first "traditional Bajoran"
restaurant they'd tried, back in October, but Corwin had his
suspicions about just how authentic the place had been, and if he
could convince her to give the experiment another go, why then -
        "Corwin Ravenhair, please report to the office.  Corwin
Ravenhair, to the office please."
        Corwin blinked, looking up at the intercom speaker with a look
of consternation that was half for his interrupted train of thought
and half puzzlement over his summoning.
        "Uh-oh, Ravenhair," said Fujisawa, grinning.  "What'd you do
now?"
        Corwin shrugged, genuinely baffled.  "Nothing, as far as I
know."
        "Well, you'd better go see what they want," the teacher
observed, angling a thumb at the door.  "We'll try not to do anything
really exciting until you get back."
        Corwin left his books and such - the period was only about
half-over, surely he'd be back in plenty of time - and with a shrug to
the querying look of Tenchi Shannon, who sat next to him, he left
the room and made his way toward the office.
        He was exceedingly surprised by the sight that met him there.
He thought he'd seen Gudrun Truemace, heavy weapons specialist of the
Valkyrie, in Midgard civvies maybe twice in his life.  But here she
was, all six feet four of her, her long, wavy chestnut hair looking
like it had been polished, her rangy, well-appointed frame draped in a
nice but not ostentatious Armani.  She was at her ease, as Gudrun
always was, chatting with Principal Strickland and Mrs. Bonis, the
school's well-loved secretary.
        "Ah, there you are, Corwin dear," said this institutional
fixture with a warm don't-worry-nobody-died smile.
        "Hi, Mrs. B," said Corwin, getting his good-cheer quotient in
before Mr. Strickland spoke and made it inappropriate.
        "Mr. Ravenhair," said Strickland, a bald-headed, humorless-
looking man whose face, though a bit severe, didn't show the bulk of
the frustration and stress of being principal of a school which
contained Corwin and his Ragnarok contemporaries (and would some day
contain the Morgan twins and Sylvie Daniels).  "So good of you to join
us."
        Corwin didn't take offense or look guiltily around; half a
year at Koopman High had taught him that Mr. Strickland always greeted
those summoned to his office that way, even if they hadn't kept him
waiting.
        "Mr. Strickland," he replied, nodding.  "Gudrun.  Is there
something wrong?"
        "Your aunt," said Strickland in a tone that combined a high
degree of dubiousness about the relationship and unamusement with the
situation, "is here to take you away from us, Mr. Ravenhair, possibly
for the rest of the year."
        Corwin blinked.  "The rest of the -year-?" he blurted, then
realized what it must be about and gave his fellow Valkyrie a very
surprised look.
        Gudrun nodded.  "You may be able to return before then," she
said formally, "but your grandfather felt it necessary to allow for
every eventuality.  He's discussed the matter by telephone with
Mr. Strickland."
        "At considerable length," said Strickland.  "It's not my policy
to interfere in the family business of my students, so long as they
don't ask me to and it doesn't affect their work," the principal went
on pointedly.  "In this case, though, my natural instinct would be to
get involved; but your grandfather has persuaded me otherwise.  So."
        Strickland reached down to Mrs. Bonis's out tray, picked up a
file folder, and handed it to Corwin.  "You'll take with you a list of
the required reading for the rest of the year.  In May, your final
examinations will be sent to your home here in New Avalon.  You'll
have a week to complete and return them.  We'll be going on the honor
system with this, Ravenhair, so if you pull any funny stuff, chances
are you're the only one who'll ever know.  It's not my policy to do
-that-, either," said the principal with just the faintest hint of a
smile, "but in your case I'll make an exception."
        Corwin nodded.  "Thank you, Mr. Strickland," he said.  "I
won't let you down."
        Strickland narrowed his eyes into that drill-instructor glare
he had, leaned forward, jutted out his chin - deliberately parodying
himself, Corwin realized with a thrill of amusement; Strickland, like
many bulldogs, wasn't such a bad guy once you got to where you could
read him - and growled, "See that you don't, mister!"

        "I take it," said Corwin as he and Gudrun left the office,
"that it's time."
        "Yep," the Valkyrie replied.  "Your grandfather wants you in
his office at three sharp."
        Corwin sighed.  Gudrun clapped him on the shoulder.  "Cheer
up," she said.  "You're as ready as anybody's ever been.  You'll make
it.  We're all behind you."
        "All but one," said Corwin glumly.
        Gudrun grinned, her reddish-brown eyes twinkling.  "You might
be surprised."
        Corwin didn't respond, didn't really even hear her.  He was
already running through the list of things he had to do this
afternoon.

        At 3 PM sharp, wearing the dress uniform of the Valkyrior, he
stood before the desk of Odin Winterbeard, ruler of Asgard, and,
incidentally, his maternal grandfather.
        Odin regarded the young man gravely and contemplatively for a
moment, then said,
        "Corwin Ravenhair, son of Skuld Ravenhair, the Aesir Council
has set the time for your Trial of Ascension to begin.  You will
report to the Council chamber in eight days' time and receive your
assignment.  Have you selected your companion for the Trial?"
        Corwin hesitated for perhaps half a second, then nodded and
replied, "All-Father, I have."
        "Name your companion," said Odin.
        "All-Father, I have chosen Nall Silverclaw, White Dragon of
Alfheim, to be my companion."
        Odin nodded.  "So be it.  He will be notified."  This was a
matter of form, of course; Nall had been planned as Corwin's Trial
companion since the one's birth and the other's hatching.  As for
notifying him, well, he was right outside, waiting for Corwin to get
through here before reporting to Alfheim for his own appearance before
the Dragon King.
        "Have you chosen the one who will be your companion through
your week of preparation?" Odin went on.
        Corwin frowned thoughtfully.  This one was trickier - the
standard answer wouldn't do - and he was trying to think of a way to
phrase it that wouldn't break the form of the occasion.
        Odin noted his hesitation this time and said, "Speak, if there
be complications."
        Relieved, Corwin replied, "All-Father, there are.  I had
expected that You would summon me for this purpose in the summer,
after the closing of Midgard's schools.  I would have my wordsister
Utena Tenjou, with whom you are acquainted, to be my preparation
companion - but she has final examinations next week."
        Odin pursed his lips thoughtfully for a moment, then nodded.
"We'll see about -that-," he said.  "Fear not.  Return to Midgard now,
make what notifications you feel are necessary, and collect your
companion.  Your time of seclusion and preparation begins at
tomorrow's nightfall."
        Corwin wanted to ask exactly how Odin planned to pull off
getting Utena excused from finals, but it wasn't his place to ask, not
under these conditions.  Instead he merely bowed and said, "Thank you,
All-Father."
        Odin glanced up at his grandson, his one eye twinkling.
"Don't thank me -yet-, boy," he said, not unkindly.

        As soon as Corwin emerged from the office, Nall winged over
from the window ledge where he'd waited, settling on the young
demigod's shoulder.  "So?" he asked.  "Did you change your mind?"
        Corwin sighed.  "No, Nall, I didn't," he replied.  "We've been
over this and over this.  You -knew- I wasn't going to."
        Nall frowned a little cat frown, shaking his head.  "It's a
mistake, I'm telling you," he said.  "I know we planned to go together
a long time ago, but that was before she came along."
        "I told you, I am -not- dragging Utena off on my Trial," said
Corwin grumpily.  "You know how rough these things are.  They're going
to send me to slay a wyvern in the Tindalos Peaks or some damn thing.
It's hard going, the conditions are lousy, and the tasks themselves
are always really dangerous.  People get killed."
        "Oh, sure, but you'll take -me- along, no problem."
        "You're facing your -own- Trial," Corwin told him.  "You'd
have to do something dangerous and difficult anyway.  Utena's paid her
dues.  She doesn't need to be dragged off on somebody ELSE's damn-fool
crusade."
        "She'd love it," Nall told him.  "You know she would.  She
thrives on heroic challenges.  And she'd be helping you get what you
want most - you know what that sort of thing means to her."
        "-No-, Nall," said Corwin.  "Now drop it, willya?  It's
already done, I've already named you my companion.  What am I supposed
to do, go back into Grand-dad's office and say, 'No wait, strike that,
reverse it'?  Let it go.  As soon as we're back from Jotunheim or
wherever, Utena and I will have plenty of opportunity for adventure
hunting for Anthy."
        Nall chuckled.  "You talk like you already know her," he said.
        "After everything Utena's told me about her, I almost feel
like I do," Corwin replied.  "Now look, you'd better get off to
Alfheim.  You don't want to be late - you know how your uncle gets
when people keep him waiting."
        "Well, OK, but I still think it's a mistake.  But, like you
said, it's done now, we're committed.  I just hope you don't have
cause to regret it once we're wherever we're going... "  He shrugged,
as much as an animal shaped like a cat can shrug.  "See you in a week,
Rocket Boy."
        Corwin grinned and scruffled the dragon.  "In a week,
furball."

        As soon as he arrived on Jeraddo, two hours later, Corwin
recognized his grandfather's handiwork, and understood how the
All-Father intended to free his friend from her mortal obligations to
aid him with his celestial ones.  When the One-Hit Wonder touched down
at Port Jeradar Spaceport, it was snowing hard and had been for about
an hour.
        When he arrived at the Castle, Utena had just come from the
shower after participating in the Castle Tigers' summary execution of
the Mandeville Griffins (so named, not for Kaitlyn's father, but for
the mythical animal, which was reputed to be the invention of the
possibly-equally-mythical Sir John Mandeville).  She was in sweats and
an Art of Noise t-shirt, scrubbing at her hair with a towel, when she
entered Castle 501 and saw Corwin standing there, his hands in
Kaitlyn's, a pleased-worried look on the brown-haired girl's face.
        "Hey, Corwin," said Utena, pleased to see him.  "You're
early."  She noted Kate's look and asked, "What's the matter?"
        "It's time," said Corwin simply.  "My Trial begins a week
from tomorrow."
        Utena blinked.  "Already?  I thought they told you six to
eight months."
        "It's b-b-been six," Kaitlyn pointed out.
        After a little mental math, she said, "Huh.  I guess it has.
I'd just gotten used to the idea of it being this summer."  She looked
downcast.  "This is gonna be a little complicated.  I promised I'd
spend the prep time with you and I will, but... well, it's gonna take
a lot of fast talking to my profs."  She went to her wardrobe and
opened it.  "Guess I'd better put my uniform back on," she said over
her shoulder.  "Bugging teachers for favors always works better if
you're properly dressed."
        "That won't be necessary," said Corwin, gesturing to the
window.  "See that snow?  Unless I miss my guess, that's Grand-dad's
doing, and it's not going to stop for days.  By Monday this place will
be paralyzed.  Teachers won't be able to get in here from town, even
crossing the campus will be a challenge.  There won't be any finals
next week."
        Utena turned to look at him, amazed.  "The All-Father's going
to disrupt this whole school - hell, this whole community - so that I
can help you prep for your Trial without screwing up my schoolwork?"
        Corwin grinned.  "Looks that way.  When he asked me who I
wanted and I told him I'd had you in mind, but you'd be unavailable,
he said, 'We'll see about that,' and didn't ask me for a second
choice."
        Kaitlyn tutted with mock disapproval.  "N-n-nepotism," she
said.  She climbed up on her bed to pick up where she'd left off
studying.  Serge rolled in under her left arm, grumbling contentedly
as he snuggled in for the long haul.
        Utena absorbed that for a moment, then grinned.  "Well, then,"
she said, "I guess I'd better pack for a week."

        The Duelists studied that weekend anyway, just in case, but as
the snow outside got deeper and deeper and showed no signs of
slackening, it looked more and more likely that Corwin's prediction
was right.  On Monday, the administration cancelled finals for that
day only, stressing that the snowfall was expected to break that night
and by morning everything was expected to be up and running again.  It
did stop that night, briefly, leading Azalynn to be dejected and start
studying for her Tuesday-morning statistics final again; but then,
around two in the morning, it started again more fierce than before,
and that morning President Tiefeld announced, on the campus radio
station, a schedule realignment.
        "Final examinations for Term C-2406 are postponed until after
C-D term break; they will commence on Monday, March 20," his thin
voice announced from the speaker of the radio set in the Castle
library.  Kaitlyn hushed the round of cheers which followed so that
she could hear the rest:
        "To compensate for this alteration in the schedule, Term D's
scheduled events will all be moved forward one week.  This includes
extracurricular activities such as the Spring Symphony Concert, Spring
Formal, and the Class of 2406's commencement exercise, but not
interscholastic activities, which would have to be rescheduled with
the other schools involved.  Sporting events for the week of March 20
will be canceled or rescheduled as other schools' cooperation will
allow."
        Tiefeld cleared his throat and went on, "The Administration
apologizes for any inconvenience this may cause, and for making you
come back from break to be greeted by final exams, then plunge
straight into D-term from C-term's finals.  In the final analysis, we
felt this would be less disruptive than rescheduling C-D break - and a
good deal more popular than shortening it," he added with that dryly
humorous tone he had, guaranteed to get a laugh at assemblies and
commencements.
        "In the meantime," Tiefeld continued after allowing time for
his audience to laugh, "every effort will be made to keep the school's
infrastructure and services functioning.  We may be stuck on campus,
but we aren't going to starve, and the Infirmary will remain open
should anyone need it.  For the time being, it doesn't look like any
of us is going anywhere, so bundle up warmly and enjoy your
semi-vacation," he advised.  "This is President Tiefeld, signing off."
        B'Elanna Torres clicked off the radio and said, "All RIGHT!"
        Despite the somewhat ominous thought of heading straight into
D-term from C-term's finals, the others seemed eager to echo that
sentiment.
        
        Early that evening, as it got dark outside and the snow still
fell, Kaitlyn and Kyouichi Saionji were taking advantage of the
unexpected freedom from finals to get in some extra training time.  As
usual, they said little as they worked; Kate's vocal range as sensei
(apart from kiai) was generally limited to clipped, barked commands,
Saionji's as student to acknowledgements and the occasional grunt of
pain as he slipped up and got thwacked by the wooden sheath of Kate's
zatoichi.
        Today they were using the main dueling floor, instead of one
of the smaller practice rooms on the second floor.  Saionji's tachi
hung on a peg near the rack of towels and the first-aid kit.  Sergei
the tiger was camped out under the little table with the water jug on
it, yawning.  It was his policy to nap through Kate and Saionji's
practice sessions, so as to conserve his strength until bedtime.
        Today, though, something very peculiar happened, something
which got Serge's full attention.  Saionji was in the middle of an
intermediate kata when he suddenly stopped, reeling as if struck, his
bokuto continuing on in his former direction of travel without him to
clatter noisily across the stone of the dueling floor.
        Kaitlyn's first instinct was to correct him, but she realized
almost instantly that such a massive departure from the kata could not
be a simple lapse of form.  She advanced toward him, her "teacher"
persona dropping away like a slipped-off coat, and asked,
        "K-K-Kyouichi?  Are you O-k-k-K?"
        "Stay back," said Saionji, raising a hand.  "I know this
feeling... "
        Suddenly, with a sizzling noise, a pattern appeared on the
stone beneath Saionji's feet - a six-pointed star of black, crackling
lightning, appearing first as points surrounding him and then growing
from those points to create a full pattern, with Saionji squarely in
the middle of the central hexagon.
        Kaitlyn recoiled, startled.  Serge got to his feet, ran to his
mistress's side, and roared - fairly impressively, for all that he
wasn't nearly mature yet.
        But Saionji, standing in the middle of this pattern - was it
Kate's imagination, or was he starting to -fade-? - didn't look
panicked or even all that upset.  In fact, as he looked down at the
circle, he smiled, slowly and slyly, the smile of a man who knows what
is about to happen and sees a way to turn it to his advantage.
        "Don't worry!" he called to Kate over the escalating noise of
the sizzling, racing energy.  "I've done this before!  Last time it
was someone else summoning me, but it feels essentially the same!"
        "W-what - " Kate began, then stopped as it hit her.  "You're
g-g-going BACK?" she cried.  "B-Back to Ceph-ph-CEPHIRO?"
        Saionji - now definitely fading - nodded.  "It's all right!"
he yelled, his voice sounding very hollow and distant now.  "I've got
a surprise or two for them THIS time!"
        Not knowing what else to do, Kate held up her zatoichi.
"T-take it!" she cried, and threw it into the circle, not knowing if
he would be able to catch it.
        Catch it he did, with a wild grin on his face as the wind
racing clockwise around the circle blew his hair out of its usual
working ponytail, and just before he flickered out of existence, he
threw her a wink.
        The circle collapsed with an noise like a slamming door, and
the dueling floor was still.
        Serge, not liking this turn of events at all, roared again,
then pawed disconsolately at his stunned mistress's hakama leg.  She
reached absently down and patted his head.
        How, she thought to herself, am I going to explain this to
Wakaba?

        Just like last time, Saionji had a sensation of falling, the
world smearing away into meaningless colors and lights.  The first
time it had happened, he had been mad, and had taken it for further
delirium, in whatever capacity he'd noticed it at all.  This time, he
knew exactly what it was, and he had a very strong suspicion of what
awaited him at the other side.
        He righted Kaitlyn's hidden blade in his hands, clutched it
tight like an anchor, and waited.
        With a whoosh and a thump, he was back on solid ground,
kneeling on what felt like a rug, head bowed, eyes closed.  Without
even opening his eyes, he could -feel- the difference.  He wondered if
it were because the place was so familiar to him that he could feel
its size and the height of its ceiling from the acoustics and the air
pressure, or if this newly noticed sensitivity were a result of his
training with Kaitlyn.
        Either way, it served him well, for he had time to compose
himself before opening his eyes, looking up, and having his suspicion
completely and awfully confirmed.
        He was kneeling in the exact center of a huge round room with
a domed ceiling and arched windows.  Around him were a few pieces of
furniture - a couple of white leather couches with people lounging on
them, and glass-and-chrome coffee tables with nothing on them - but
mostly the room was empty, as empty as its owner's heart.
        And standing a few paces away from Saionji, smiling a very
self-satisfied smile, was that owner.
        Saionji got to his feet, fixing the black-armored man he faced
with wild, wide violet eyes, and raked his disordered green hair out
of his face with one hand while he clutched the deep-stained wooden
length of Kotetsu no Sasayaki with the other.
        "Ohtori!" he snarled.  "You DARE - "  Then he stopped, as if
struck by a conflicting train of thought, and turned this way, then
that, in place, raking the room with his wild pinpoint gaze.  Some of
the figures on the couches he recognized - there was Touga, the smug
bastard, grinning that smug-bastard grin of his, and beside him
what's-her-name, the raspberry-haired girl Arisugawa had been so hung
up on back in the day.  She had the blank look of one who has very
recently been shown the End of the World, but Touga was the same as
ever, clear-eyed and faintly sardonic.  Saionji suppressed an urge to
leap upon him and shatter his skull.  Plenty of time for that later.
Right now he had a different kind of impression to make.
        He didn't know the others - a big blond man with the same
mind-scrubbed look as the girl, a prematurely white-haired woman
wearing insufficient clothing for the time of year - and skipped over
them as though he hadn't noticed them, returning his crazed gaze to
Akio.  Where had the Deputy Chairman gotten the getup he was wearing
now?  Black robes, spiky armor - it hit Saionji like an icicle in the
heart.  The man was dressed like the High Priest in Tenchuu!  What was
his name?  Saionji had never been a very spiritual man, and now the
name of the Priest escaped him.  A Z word, he thought... no matter!
There was a performance to be given; he had only to gather the data
now.  He could comb through it later, at his leisure.
        Now, he lunged forward, breath hissing between his teeth.
"Where is she?!" he snarled.  "You bastard!  What have you done with
her?!  If you've harmed her, by God, I'll kill you!  KILL YOU!"
        So saying, Saionji closed the distance to Akio and, rather
pathetically, whacked him on the breastplate with the sheathed end of
Kotetsu no Sasayaki.
        Akio gave him a rather pitying look, reached up, and casually
pushed the wooden length aside.
        "-Really-, Kyouichi.  A -stick-," he said dryly.  "You might
at least thank me.  From the look of you, you've been wandering the
wastelands for some time."
        Saionji smiled internally.  Another stroke of luck - the throw
of the dice had put him, for today's unplanned training session, in
the dirtiest, rattiest of his gis, the one he'd been meaning to clean
and mend but hadn't gotten around to yet.  Combined with the look on
his face and the disarray the summoning itself had put his hair in, he
had no doubt that he -did- look like a wild man who had been wandering
the world, rather than a kenjutsu student who happened to have been
yanked out of a dojo.
        And of course Akio didn't recognize the zatoichi for what it
was; there were no such things in Cephiro.  Who would need to hide a
-sword-?  In some parts of the world, they were more common parts of
people's wardrobes than shoes.
        Advantage, Saionji.
        "Thank you?" he snarled.  "After all you've done for me?
WHERE -IS- SHE?!"
        Akio chuckled indulgently.  "Ah, I've missed you, Kyouichi,"
he said.  "Calm yourself.  She's here, and quite safe.  In a moment
I'll take you to see her."  Then his face hardened.  "In the meantime,
you might show me some -respect-.  You address the High Priest of this
land now, not just the Deputy Chairman of the Academy you walked away
from."
        Saionji looked like he might retort, then subsided grudgingly,
lowering the zatoichi.
        "Sorry," he said, with some semblance of his old civility.  "I
was... disoriented."  Then he raised eyes shining with hope to the new
(and, Saionji had no inward doubt, usurper) Priest and said, "Is she
really here?"
        Akio smiled thinly.  "She is," he replied.  "And I'm sure
she'll be very pleased to see you.  She needs her friends around her
now, poor thing," he added mockingly.  "Touga - get Saionji something
to drink, will you?  Then I'll take him up to - "
        "No!" Saionji snapped.  "I don't want a drink.  I just want to
see her.  That's all I need."
        Akio gave him an appraising look, then that same smile again -
the sort of smile a person might give a particularly stupid cat who
consistently and comically mistakes the glass patio door for an
opening and bumps noisily into it.
        "She'll be gratified by your loyalty, I'm sure," he said.
"But she's resting right now.  Why don't you go with Touga and get
something to eat.  He'll show you somewhere where you can get some
sleep, and I'll take you to Anthy in the morning."
        "In the morning... "  Saionji paced away from Akio, looking
out the nearest window at the starry night sky - the familiar old
stars of Cephiro, which now looked positively alien after the night
sky over Jeraddo.  He had seen not one but several alien skies, he had
known the true friendship of the Rose Knight and the love of one he
had once abused, while Akio stayed here in his little tower and wove
his little plans... 
        He turned back.  "All right," he said.
        Akio smiled.  "I knew you'd see reason," he said
sardonically.  "Touga - take Saionji to his old room and see that he
has something to eat."
        Touga rose, bowed, and said, "Of course, Lord Akio.  Good to
see you again, Kyouichi," he added, smiling that old smooth who's-
your-only-friend-then smile.
        Saionji concentrated hard on not showing Touga how much he
hated him as the two of them left the tower.

        "DISAPPEARED?!" Wakaba Shinohara blurted.
        Kate nodded.  "R-r-right in f-front of me.  All I c-c-could do
was th-throw him my s-s-sword.  He s-said he th-thought he kn-knew the
f-f-feeling - thought he kn-kn-knew w-where he was g-g-going."
        Miki Kaoru stopped his watch, then regarded her gravely.
"Cephiro," he said flatly.
        Kate nodded.  "He th-thought so."  She looked thoughtful for a
moment, then went on, "He d-d-didn't seem t-too w-w-worried ab-bout
it."
        "What could have happened?" wondered Wakaba.  "Say - wasn't he
the first one Utena brought over?  You don't suppose it wears off?
Maybe Miki will disappear too, in a couple of days."
        Kate shook her head.  "I d-don't think s-s-so.  He
s-said... h-how did he w-w-word it?  'L-last t-t-time it was s-someone
else s-s-summon-ning m-me, b-b-but it f-feels ess-s-sentially the
s-same.'  He th-thought he kn-kn-knew who was d-doing it."
        Juri took a sip of tea, put her cup back down on its saucer,
and said without doubt in her voice, "The Deputy Chairman."
        "You think he has that kind of power?" Wakaba asked, sounding
dubious.
        "He has power enough that the Master Mage fears him," Juri
pointed out.  "You reported that yourself."
        "Hmm... true," Wakaba mused.  "But if he could do that, why
hasn't he grabbed all of us?  Why doesn't he just haul Utena back and
finish having it out with her?"
        Miki shook his head.  "I don't think he can do that," Miki
said.  "Utena is... -different- from the rest of us.  Whether Chairman
Ohtori wishes to admit it or not, she won the Rose Tournament.  I
expect that places her beyond his reach.  And you - you're the
apprentice to the Master Mage.  You came here through a dimensional
doorway cast by Clef.  As for Miss Juri and I... we spurned him the
last time he tried to recruit us, and all he could do was erase our
memories of the encounter - imperfectly, as it turns out, because
we've both recovered them now."
        "So did Saionji."
        "Yes - but then he put his rose seal back on and went looking
for Miss Himemiya anyway."
        "For his own reasons, not Akio's," Juri concurred, "but it may
have been enough to set him apart."
        "And now he's back there, and -Akio- has him?!" Wakaba cried.
"Dammit!  This is -awful-!  We have to do something!"
        "Like what?" asked Juri.  "We have no way of crossing back.
You and Tenjou have both tried to send us; apparently the powers she's
inherited, and you've gained from the Master Mage, don't work that
way."
        Wakaba slammed her fist down on the table.  "Dammit!" she
repeated, louder this time.  "I can't just leave him there!"
        "I share your concern," Juri said, her aspect softening a
bit.  "Honestly, I do.  But I don't think we have any choice in the
matter... "
        "Th-there's one th-th-thing g-going for us," Kate noted.
"C-Corwin."
        "Huh?" said Wakaba.  Then she blinked.  "Of course - he's
taking his test thing for godhood.  Once he's done with that, sure,
he'll be able to get us back there to look for Saionji."
        "Well, th-that's the th-th-theory, anyw-way," said Kate.  "He
and Ut-t-tena alr-r-ready p-plan to g-go back and f-find Anthy."
        Wakaba hit the table again, this time triumphantly.  "Well,
there we go, then!"  Then her face fell as a realization struck her.
"How long is this trial thing supposed to take?"
        "You n-never kn-know until the t-t-task is assigned," Kate
admitted sadly.  "And th-that w-w-won't be until S-Saturday."
        Wakaba slumped.  "Damn.  Who -knows- what might happen?"  She
folded her arms on the table in front of her and dropped her head onto
them.  "This can't be happening.  Just when everything was going so
-well-... " she moaned.
        "The situation may not be as dire as we think," Miki pointed
out.  "Saionji certainly didn't seem to think so."
        "Saionji's an idiot," said Wakaba, with, undoubtedly, some
mild hysterical exaggeration.  "He thinks he can handle anything after
everything he went through -before- and came back from."
        "Maybe he's right," said Juri.  "That which does not kill one,
and all that.  I know -I'm- stronger than I was when last I faced
Akio's powers of persuasion - and I resisted him with partial success
then.  I think I could stand up to him now."
        Miki nodded.  "And I.  Now that we all know what he really
is, and what he's really capable of, I think his power over any of us
would be extremely limited."  He smiled.  "Besides - Saionji's
crafty.  He probably started forming a plan as soon as he realized
what was happening to him.  I wouldn't be surprised to learn that he
has the situation fully under control right now."

        Kozue Kaoru was on her way from the chemistry building, where
she'd spent much of the evening repeating an experiment in search of a
more presentable result, back to her room when she saw them, like
apparitions out of the past - Touga Kiryuu and Kyouichi Saionji,
heading from the belltower to the senior dorm where Saionji had always
lived in his student days.  She stopped walking and stared at them,
amazed.  Touga had left the Academy the year before, -and- he should
have graduated by now anyway - Kozue had replaced his replacement as
Student Council President - but here he came, big as life, smiling
that easy smile he had, wearing the same old Student Council uniform
he'd always worn.
        Saionji, trudging along behind him, looked like he'd just come
out of a cave somewhere - he was wearing a rather tattered blue kendo
gi, and his hair was in a wild tangle around his lean, haggard face.
He was holding a walking stick as if it were either a sword or some
kind of all-important talisman.
        "Well, well, Miss Kaoru," said Touga smoothly as he noticed
her standing by the path.  He came up next to her, slipped his arm
familiarly around her, and murmured, "You're looking adorable, as
always.  I love what the Council uniform does for you."
        Kozue straight-armed him away from her, saying, "Hands off,
Kiryuu.  You only sampled the merchandise, you didn't put a down
payment on it."
        Touga looked mockingly hurt.  "Come, come, Kozue," he chided
her gently.  "At the time, you said I was the best you'd ever had."
        "So I had a lot of terrible ones," she replied shortly, "and
you were only lousy.  Don't let it go to your head.  What the hell are
you and your loser pal doing back here, anyway?  I thought you'd
turned your back on good old Ohtori and headed out to seek your
fortune under the big blue sky."  And I thought Saionji was dead,
she didn't add out loud.
        "I'm here by special request of the Deputy Chairman," Touga
replied, unflapped by her rudeness.  "As for my dear friend Kyouichi,
well, he's just come back from a... journey of self-discovery."
        Saionji was very, very proud of himself for not bursting out
laughing.
        "Well, you'd better not be planning to just slip back into
your old seat on the Council," Kozue informed him flatly.  "I'm in it
now, and I'm not leaving without a legitimate election.  Our useless
dilettante of a Deputy Chairman and I may not see eye to eye on some
things, but even he can't deny that I've done a good job keeping this
school running while he's been busy doing whatever the hell is more
important."
        "Perish the thought," Touga told her.  "I wear the uniform for
old times' sake, nothing more.  You go right on running things, my
dear, you and Keiko and... what's-his-name, my dear sister's little
flunky."
        "Tsuwabuki," Kozue corrected him automatically.  "Where -is-
Nanami, anyway?  Did she come back with you?"
        Saionji pricked up his ears; he wanted to hear the answer to
this question too.
        "Nanami's... not been well," said Touga delicately.  "It's
a... female problem, or so I'm told."  He adjusted his collar
uncomfortably and went on, "I don't think you'll be seeing her again
for a while."
        "Oh."  Kozue looked actually worried about that, for just a
moment, and said in a softer tone, "Well, if you see her, tell her I
said to get well soon."
        Touga nodded and replied, "I'm sure it'll make her day."
        "Oh - and if you're still tight with the Deputy Chairman, and
he deigns to take an interest in the running of his Academy any
longer," Kozue added, back to her adversarial tone, "tell him I'd like
my Treasurer back one of these days.  We've got the Spring Festival
coming up, not that you'd know it with all this damn -snow- still on
the ground."
        "I'll see," Touga promised.  "Shiori is helping us with a very
delicate project right now, which doesn't leave her a lot of free
time.  It's very important to the school, though - so don't fret,
she's being put to good use."
        "Uh-huh," said Kozue skeptically.  "Well.  If you'll excuse
me," she said, "some of us have -work- to do."
        "See you around, Kozue," Touga replied, patting her rather low
on the back as she passed.
        "Do that again," she snapped frostily, "and I'll break your
God damned arm."
        Touga laughed as if she'd said something funny, and he and
Saionji proceeded in the opposite direction; as she passed out of
earshot, he stopped, his expression instantly becoming one of
contempt.
        "Worthless little tramp," he muttered.  "It does no good to
lock the barn after you've let everybody you know ride the horse."
        Saionji gave his ex-best-friend a strange look for the
fractured metaphor, but said nothing.  He was too busy mulling over
the subtext of all Touga had said to Kozue.  As usual, the redheaded
dupe was being a lot more informative than he thought he was being.
        "What did you mean," he asked slowly, "about Nanami?"
        Touga turned to him, looking puzzled, then laughed.  "Oh,
that!  Here, you'll appreciate this... "
        Saionji resolved not to recoil as Touga put a friendly arm
around his shoulders.  As they walked the rest of the way to
Saionji's old dorm, the redheaded Duelist told him the story.
        What made it so awful - and it was an awful story in its own
right - was how -funny- Touga seemed to think it all was.  He'd
changed, Saionji realized, since the last time they'd been together.
Then, sure, Touga had been dissipated and cruel, like always, but he'd
been showing signs of recovery.  Much like Saionji, he'd been making
at least a vague effort at becoming an actual person again.  Saionji
had still hated him and not wanted anything further to do with him,
but at least he was trying.  He'd even decided he was in love with
Tenjou, that she was the woman who could change his ways.  (Now there
was a star-crossed decision if Saionji had ever seen one.  And Touga
thought -he- was an idiot for loving the Rose Bride?)
        But now... now he was completely twisted, Akio Ohtori's
sniggering little goblin henchman.  Oh, he still looked the same, tall
and graceful and handsome, the idol of all the school's girls - well,
except for Kozue Kaoru, apparently - but inside... 
        Inside he was the kind of man who could do something like that
to his own sister, just for the fun of watching her mind break, and
because Akio told him to.
        Saionji ground his teeth and forced himself to let Touga
live.  It wouldn't do to break cover yet.  More, much more, than his
own satisfaction was at stake.
        Still, it was another thing to add to the list of crimes that
Akio Ohtori and Touga Kiryuu had to pay for.  Saionji hadn't
particularly -liked- Nanami - she was a graceless, unpleasant, spoiled
little bitch, when you got right down to it - but she had deserved
better than -this-.
        -Anyone- deserved better than this.
        Somehow, he managed to be cordial to Touga throughout an
improvised meal cobbled together in the dorm's closed kitchen, then
through goodnights at the doorway of his old room.  Then, finally
alone, he threw himself back on his own bed - what a peculiar feeling
it was to be here again!  Had no one needed this room in the more than
a year since he'd been gone? - and let out a huge, wordless, sighing
groan that encapsulated everything he'd felt since arriving here
again.
        Ah, Wakaba, he thought to himself, your sweet Saionji has
landed in the middle of one hell of a mess.

        Wakaba and Kaitlyn sat alone in the Castle library, Serge
curled up on the couch between them with his head helpfully in
Wakaba's lap.  They hadn't said anything in about an hour, since Juri
and Miki had gone upstairs.  Truth be told, Kate would have liked to
go to bed herself, but she didn't want to wander off and leave Wakaba
alone - it wouldn't have been very friendly of her.
        "Do you suppose we should call Utena and Corwin?" Wakaba mused
suddenly.  "I mean, I know they said not to call them unless it was a
dire emergency, but Saionji getting dragged back home by Akio ought to
qualify, don't you think?"
        Kate shook her head.  "I've b-been th-th-thinking about
that," she said, "and I d-d-don't th-think so.  There's n-nothing they
c-c-could d-do about it now anyw-way.  It'd j-just d-disrupt Corwin's
p-prep-preparations and w-w-worry them b-both.  I s-still think our
only sh-sh-shot is to w-wait for Corwin to c-c-comp-plete his
T-Trial."
        "Yeah... I guess you're right... "  Wakaba sighed.  "Some big
hero -I- am."
        Kate reached across her tiger and patted Wakaba's arm.
"Ch-chin up," she said.  "K-K-Kyouichi's a g-good student.  I'm on the
v-v-verge of rec-c-recomm-mending him for his j-journeyman's t-test.
He's n-not stupid, and if he's s-still a little c-c-crazy, it's the
g-g-good k-kind," she added with a grin.  "He'll be f-f-fine."
        "I hope so."  Wakaba chuckled, half-bitterly.  "At least
Himemiya's missing," she added.  "If he doesn't see her around,
there's a chance he won't come -completely- unglued."

        Anthy had risen, dressed, and begun to contemplate the bleak,
hopeless task of getting through the day when the elevator chimed,
announcing another visit from the thing that thought it was her
brother.
        Perfect, she thought, and sighed; but when Akio - now dressed
again in the everyday clothes he'd usually worn when running the
school - emerged, it was Nanami he spoke to, not Anthy.
        "Nanami," he said, "you must be tired.  Run along to bed.
I've got someone here who can take over for you until tonight."
        Nanami didn't reply; she gave him a skittish look, then
skirted around him and darted for the elevator.
        "Charming girl," Akio observed dryly.  "And so well-mannered
since her brother started... ah... returning her affections.  Now
then.  Kyouichi, I trust you remember my sister Anthy?" he purred, and
Anthy pressed her lips together in a thin line as Kyouichi Saionji,
looking just like he always had in the Bad Old Days, strode out from
behind the Deputy Chairman.
        He wore his old Student Council Vice-President's uniform,
cleaned and pressed, and his wavy green hair was free, flowing around
his sharply handsome face and down his slim back.  His eyes had
contracted down to the pin-pricks of black that indicated he was
having one of his psychotic episodes; his right hand was
white-knuckled and clenched around a length of dark-stained wood that
he held as if it were his only hope of salvation.
        He stared at her, and gave a high, nervous giggle, as the
corner of his mouth turned up once or twice in a tiny quivering
smile.  "Oh... oh yes, I remember.  I remember... "
        He started forward, only to be blocked by Akio's arm.
        "You are here to prevent her from leaving the tower, Saionji.
Remember that.  And whatever you do, do NOT touch her!  Do you
understand me?"
        Saionji nodded, jerkily, his eyes never leaving Anthy's face,
but she saw his hands twitch on the length of wood.
        "Good," Akio said, and then, with a brief, amused smile for
Anthy's benefit, he left.
        Anthy swallowed, and then she tried to put a winning smile on
her face.  "Kyouichi," she began.  "You really shouldn't keep me
here... "
        And then she realized that as the elevator door had sighed
shut, Saionji's pupils had dilated back to their normal size.  His
right hand's white-knuckled grip on the length of wood didn't relax
any, but his left hand relaxed and he stepped forward.
        "No, no," he mumbled, his voice still laced with madness -
totally at odds with the faint, calm grin on his face.  "I can't let
you out.  You'd only hurt yourself, frail thing that you are - "
        Had he -winked-?!  He reached up, drew a finger down the line
of her jaw, then let it rest on her shoulder for an instant, between
turning away and moving around her in a nervous circle.
        "And besides, the Grand Duelist - " he shot her a look, " -
will have my head on a platter if I allow anything to happen to you.
I like my head.  I like being able to look at you.  Look, but never
touch.  No, no, you belong to the Grand Duelist, and that is a claim
I will -never- dispute.  You were won with great sacrifice, with great
power... "
        The Grand Duelist?  Of course Akio would kill him if she
escaped - but his eyes were sane, held no trace of fear.  But Akio was
no longer the Grand Duelist, that title belonged to Utena, because she
had beaten him.  But that meant - !
        Saionji shook his head.  "No, my flower, my beauteous one, you
must stay here.  Here where there are six able fighters and my humble
self to defend you against all comers - " another penetrating look, 
" - and keep you safely housed."  He smiled, manically, and laughed,
and Anthy understood.
        Six of Akio's Duelists between her and freedom, and one who
would help her.  But the two of them couldn't defeat all six alone.
Not when one was Akio and another, in all likelihood, Lafarga.
        "The Grand Duelist," Saionji went on, gesturing grandly and
still laughing, "the one who commands my undivided loyalty, has
declared that you must be kept safe and unharmed, and so I will keep
you so!"  The laugh cut off, and he whispered, hoarsely, "Even if it
costs my life, it will be worth it for you are the light of my
eyes... yesssss, oh yess... !"
        Anthy stared at him, and then she reached up and ran her hand
down his jawline.  "But surely, Kyouichi," she purred, even as her
eyes bored into his and belied her seductive tone, "surely you'd do
anything for me?  Even get me out of here?"
        Can you do it? her eyes asked.
        "No!" he roared, catching her around her narrow waist with his
long, powerful hands and dragging her to him, nearly crushing the
breath from her lungs.  "I will not!  I cannot!"
        He bent his head over hers, kissed the crown of her head, and
whispered, "(I will try to help as I can, Anthy, but there are too many
to fight now.  Not without Utena's help, and she's not here, not yet.)"
        Anthy beat - ineffectually, and she wasn't really trying -
at his chest.  "(This is dangerous,)" she breathed between thumps.
        His hands tightened around her. "(He is a fool.  He sees what
he expects,)" he murmured.  "Ah, my rose, my Rose Bride, how I've
missed you," he said more loudly.  "I will -never- let you go.  Not
without a fight!"
        "Let me go!" Anthy moaned, pushing, and then she murmured,
"(Can you survive if he finds out?)"
        "(Probably not,)" Saionji muttered, before he continued
ranting, letting her go as he swung his arms wide expansively, "How
I've longed to hold you... even in the great cities of Toronto, of
Worcester, where I learned my loyalty to the Grand Duelist," he
boomed, "even in the Great Desert where the sun overhead baked the
soul from my body, your vision bloomed before my eyes... "
        Anthy retreated to her couch, trying to do her best to look
like she was afraid of him, as her mind raced.  He'd been with Utena,
wherever she was.  She was still trying to get back here, but Akio
must have summoned Saionji first...
        And now they had to wait, for an opening or for Utena to
return, perhaps with more allies like Saionji.  But at least now, even
if they couldn't talk openly, she had one friend with her inside
Akio's defenses.
        That gave her some small kernel of hope.
        But not much.

        Akio stepped briefly into the small room next to the kitchen
and asked Touga, "Anything?"
        Touga moved the cup of an earphone from one of his ears, still
listening with the other one, and shook his head, his expression a
peculiar mix of disgust and amusement.  "He's just ranting.  The usual
stupidity about how she's his flower and he'll never let her go.  And
about the places he's been to.  Ever heard of a city called Toronto?"
        Akio looked confused.  "No... I can't say that I have."
        "Me neither," Touga replied.  Then he chuckled and added, "All
that time in the Great Desert must have baked what was left of his
brain," before flipping the earphone back into position.
        Akio shook his head and left the room to attend to other
things.  Saionji would be useful for a week or two, anyway... 
        ... and after that, it would hardly matter.

          /*  Tribe  "Joyride (I Saw the Film)"  _Abort_  */

Eyrie Productions, Unlimited            I saw the film
presented                               Said "That's the life for me"
UNDOCUMENTED FEATURES                   Forsake the mundane for
FUTURE IMPERFECT                        Some instability
 - Symphony of the Sword No. 2 -        So sue me
Overture in E
                                        Now you're hiding upstairs
The Cast                                And now I'm not so sure
(in order of appearance)                What is all this for?
Clarissa Broadbank
G'Kron                                  Haven't got a lot to say
Harcourt M. McKenzie                    Have you, have you
Beld Marmo                              Oh you've done it now
Mia Ausa                                Haven't you, haven't you
Corwin Ravenhair                        How many times I didn't unfold you
Nall Silverclaw                         Look at your face I hardly know you
R. Dorothy Wayneright                   Oh I'm in it now up to eyebrow
Peril                                   Oh I've done it now - haven't I
Kaitlyn Hutchins                        Oh me thinkin' you'd be my joyride
Sergei                                  I'll be lucky just to survive
Elizabeth R'tas Shustal
T'skaia Vorokoshiga'ar                  I read the book
  Ixtixtaaqitl't'chl'Vraihelt Ishkarat  I thought that it meant me
Azalynn dv'Ir Natashkan                 Your fev'rish vision of
Utena Tenjou                              exquisite misery
B'Elanna Torres                         It threw me
Miki Kaoru
Masamichi Fujisawa                      Now I'm in freefall
Tenchi Shannon                          I'm empty as a bottle that
Gudrun Truemace                         You can see through
Carolyn Bonis                           What am I to do?
James Strickland
Odin Winterbeard                        Haven't got a lot to say
Roland Tiefeld                          Have you, have you
Kyouichi Saionji                        Oh you've done it now
Akio Ohtori                             Haven't you, haven't you
Touga Kiryuu                            How many times I didn't unfold you
Shiori Takatsuki                        Look at your face I hardly know you
Lafarga                                 Oh I'm in it now up to eyebrow
Alcyione                                Oh I've done it now - haven't I
Wakaba Shinohara                        Oh me thinkin' you'd be my joyride
Juri Arisugawa                          I'll be lucky just to survive
Kozue Kaoru
Anthy Himemiya                          I've had my fill
Nanami Kiryuu                           I feel that chill
                                        I've had my fill 
Director/Producer                       I'm tired
Benjamin D. Hutchins                    I'm tired
                                        I've had my fill
Tenth World Unit Director               I feel that chill
Anne Cross                              I've had my fill

Mac Handler                             You're still not home
Kris Overstreet                         It caught me by surprise
                                        It's a telltale odor I almost recognize
Science Correspondent
Janice Barlow                           And I can hardly see
                                        The pupils in your eyes
Key Grip                                Now I realize
Philip J. Moyer
                                        Haven't got a lot to say
Gaffing Crew                            Have you, have you
The Usual Suspects                      Oh you've done it now
                                        Haven't you, haven't you
Narn and Centauri created by            How many times I didn't unfold you
J. Michael Straczynski                  Look at your face I hardly know you
(I forgot to credit him before)         Oh I'm in it now up to eyebrow
                                        Oh I've done it now - haven't I
Mr. Ohtori's Wardrobe by                Oh me thinkin' you'd be my joyride
CLAMP                                   I'll be lucky...

                       The Symphony will return