Opening Moves: Part I

The Royal Terminal of the Crystal Tokyo International Airport was practically deserted. The ruling elite of Japan and their security personnel rattled around in the enormous room like peas in a fifty-gallon drum. The Royal Terminal was the product of careful and long drawn compromise.

Michael and Zoë Silvers, better known to the general public by their titles of Malachite and Zoicite, had wanted Serenity to confiscate one of the old US Air force Military Bases and turn it into a private airport. The couple, who along with their fellow Guardians: Nephrite, whose true name was Nathaniel Hawthorne (no relation to the author), and Jadeite, who had no other name, wanted the security of an isolated and armed airport. Serenity refused. While she claimed that she did not wish to risk alienating the United States by taking one of their few remaining bases in the Far East, the truth was that she did not like the idea of another sign of her isolation from her subjects. If the common people of Japan could wait for hours in a crowded terminal, why then so could she.

Needless to say, the security people had a collective heart attack at the thought of not only their ruler, but all of the other high profile members of her court milling around like tourists at the world’s busiest airport. Fortunately, Mike and Zoë had had many long years of convincing their queen to take a more prudent path. Mike handled the oh-so-patient look and Zoë performed her patented long-suffering sighs. Serenity finally agreed to a compromise suggested by Thomas Austin (co-head of palace security and Knight Protector of Jupiter). A stand-alone terminal at the CTIA was renovated to serve a dual purpose. When there were no official trips planned, it was simply another one of the airports many terminal. When a courtier was traveling by air, the terminal was closed off to the general public for a full day so that the security people could patrol and examine to their hearts’ content.

Security had actually closed the Royal Terminal for two days before this trip in order to take the place practically apart. Even now, the Minister of Foreign Affairs and her entourage were waiting as a final check was made on the sleek strato-jet waiting to carry them to Washington, D.C.

Lady Cassandra Whitmore Furuhata sighed as she shifted yet again in her chair. However luxurious the surroundings, a waiting room chair was still a waiting room chair. Her husband flicked her a questioning look from where he was talking with his fellow Knight Protectors. She smiled briefly at him and gave a noncommittal shrug. Andrew Furuhata, reassured that he wasn’t need, returned to his conversation.

“Does m’lady want another cushion?” a young woman with pure white hair pulled back in a tight braid asked softly.

“A pile of cushions can’t make these seats comfortable for anyone, much less an eight months pregnant woman,” Guardian Zoicite answered for her oldest friend. The gray-uniformed woman flopped down in the seat right next to Cassandra. “Marc and Mike want to speak to you Ferra. I’ll keep an eye on her ladyship until you get back.” The young bodyguard nodded sharply and marched away.

Cassandra waited until her overly protective protector was out of earshot. “I will never get used to Ferra m’ladying me. I liked being Aunt Cassie much better.”

Zoë shrugged. “You think you have it bad? The only time she calls me Mom any more is when I embarrass her in front of the Royal Guardsmen. It’s getting so that I’m carrying those bare bottomed baby pictures of her everywhere just to threaten her with them.”

“She’ll get over it soon enough. She is only eighteen and hates the thought that she made Guardsman because of her parents rather than her own merit.”

“Michael does not play favorites. She is the first of our children to make it into the Guard. William tried for almost eight years before he finally gave up.” Zoë’s voice held only a tinge of sorrow when she mentioned her eldest child, now long dead. William had been born soon after the formation of Crystal Tokyo some two hundred years ago. While both Michael and Zoë had gained immortality from Moon Queen Serenity’s last use of the Silver Crystal, it was not a genetic change. Their children and the children of Nathaniel and Molly Hawthorne and Jadeite’s by his various ladies-fair were mortal. To lose a child is hard thing, to watch a child die of old age while you were still young and vigorous is even harder. Unconsciously, Cassandra placed a hand over her unborn son. She refused to think about such a painful possibility. She was only the second of the planetary princesses to become pregnant. Serenity had been the first; giving birth to NeoPrincess Serenity, little pink haired Rini. No one knew if the magic would work through the heirs to the planetary thrones differently or not.

“Anyway,” Zoë continued, “it will do Guardswoman Ferrite a world of good to go on this mission. I think some time to work where not everyone knows her bloodline will be a big moral booster. And with Marcasite to keep an eye on things, I think you’ll be amply protected.”

Cassandra’s lips twitched. “I’m going to Washington, not Hong Kong. I don’t think we’ll have to worry about a literal knife in the back. Of course, being around a whole city of politicians guarantees a few metaphorical knives.”

Zoë snorted. “You are on your own with the politicos.” The Guardian leaned over to whisper to Her Majesty’s Minister of Foreign Affairs. “And it’s not the Americans I’m worried about. Since you and the rest of the Inner Guard refuse to tell us what has gotten the lot of you so damned spooked, we Guardians are taking no chances.”

Cassandra did not react physically. She had spent too much time schooling herself out of involuntary responses for her face to give her away, but she was surprised. By Serenity’s order, anyone who did not already know about the approaching war was not to be informed for fear of changing the time line. Cassandra sighed mentally. She had warned the queen that the deception would not work, not against their closest friends. The time of the Dark Moon War was at hand. You had only to look at NeoPrincess Serenity to tell that. Rini had been no more than eight or nine when she appeared in twentieth century Tokyo. And the young princess had just this year celebrated her eighth birthday.

Cassandra turned cool gray eyes on her best friend and changed the subject. “How much longer are we going to be sitting here? We do have a timetable to meet.”

Zoë gave her one more hard look and then let it go. “The final security sweep should be finish right about now. And here comes your keeper. All set, Ferrite?”

Ferra nodded sharply. “Yes, Commander Zoicite. The flight crew has already started boarding Lady Cassandra’s entourage.”

“Finally,” Cassandra said under her breath as she prepared to stand.

“Are you that anxious to get away from me?” a voice murmured behind her. She craned her head back to look up into her soulmate’s sad brown eyes.

“Never,” Cassandra said. Andrew walked around to kneel in front of her and took her hands in his. “I’ll only be gone two weeks.”

Andrew sighed. “I know. I just don’t like being away from you when you are so close to your due date. Are you sure that you don’t want me to come with you?”

“I do want you with me, lover, but I don’t need to have you with me. You can’t leave your students this close to finals. And you have that seminar starting tomorrow.” Cassandra raised his left hand to her lips and kissed his knuckle right above his wedding band. “I promise that I’ll be a good girl. I’ll take my vitamins and stick to my diet. Besides, with Tom and Greg along, not to mention Ferrite hovering around, I will be amply watched over.”

Andrew nodded reluctantly. He pulled Cassandra to her feet and escorted her toward the waiting aircraft.

“Don’t worry, Andrew,” Zoë said casually as she trailed along after the lord and lady of Athena, “I’ve given Ferra tips on Cassie-bullying.”

“Mother!” Ferra hissed. The elder ones just laughed.

******

Many things had changed since the time of the Great Ice and the battles that had led to it. One of the few things that a twentieth century American would have recognized immediately upon stepping into a twenty-eighth century American’s living room would have been a television: a rectangular piece of crystal set in a black plastic frame. The concept of the mass spread of entertainment and information had survived. While Hollywood’s influence had waned under the pressure of staying alive during the bleak years after the Ice retreated and mankind began picking up the pieces, the news industry survived and even thrived. The twentieth-century people who awoke from their five hundred year long sleep had come of age in world that television and radio had made small. And they were unwilling to give up that kind of knowledge base.

Therefore, in August of 2703, people across the United States and in the few other technologically advanced countries around the world woke up and turned on their sets to hear a long dead actor say in his inimitable voice ‘This is CNN.’

“Hello,” said the handsome anchorwoman, “I am Natalie Commers and this is Robert Melton. Headlining today’s news is the eminent arrival of the long expected delegation from Crystal Japan. The stratojet carrying Cassandra Furuhata, Her Japanese Majesty’s Secretary of the Foreign Office and her party will arrive at Andrews Air Force Base within the hour.”

“Natalie,” her equally handsome co-anchor asked, “have there been any announcements concerning Lady Cassandra? The greeting ceremony at Andrews will be the first time she has been seen in public since she mysteriously took a leave of absence five months ago.”

“There has been nothing said officially about Lady Cassandra, Bob, other than confirming that she was indeed heading the delegation,” Natalie responded. “As anyone who has watched the news over these past few months knows, there have been dozens of rumors and theories ranging from the mundane to the bizarre. It was even battered about by some that Lady Cassandra’s immortality was fading.”

Bob nodded gravely. “Yes, and that was one of the tamer ones. But before we go into all of that speculative history, it’s time for William McMichaels’ Observations.” In a tradition going back to Andy Rooney, every news service had a seasoned reporter make a weekly mini-documentary type presentation about a subject in the news. ‘Observations’ was by far the most popular. (And yet another feather in CNN’s well flocked hat.)

The view of the news desk faded into a collage of pictures and drawings of Lady Cassandra and the other members of NeoQueen Serenity’s Court. Respected journalist William McMichaels’s voice floated over the images. “Cassandra Furuhata has one of the most recognizable faces on Earth. Even here in the US, more people can identify her voice than can identify the voice of our own vice president. That’s understandable, though, isn’t it? After all she is America’s Sailor Scout.” Rare footage of Sailor Athena battling the soldiers of the Empire Galactica filled the screen. “That’s what we call her for her, her brother Lord Christopher Whitmore, and Lord Thomas Austin are all Americans by birth even if they have become subjects of Serenity by choice. Strange, isn’t it, that a woman who has spent only a small fraction of her life within our borders can have such a pull on us all? Indeed, why do all of the Sailor Scouts fascinate us? Is it their magic? We have magics, small and crude though they may be. Or is it their immortal youth and beauty? As much as we Americans worship those concepts, I don’t think it is that either.” As he spoke of them, pictures of the Scouts in civilian form flitted by, in time with his phrases. “I think it is something more, some quality of spirit, that draws us. We see it, hear it, feel it, even through the second hand method of light and sound caught in crystals or on film: the gentleness in Lady Amy’s hands as she treats a child; or the contagious energy of Lady Mina’s concerts; the simple joy on Lady Lita’s face as she tinkers in her garden; Lady Rei’s smoldering passion as she watches her husband from a distance.” The shifting images faded away leaving only a single picture of Cassandra, dressed in jeans and a faded flannel shirt staring out into distance. “And Lady Cassandra. What do we see in her? Her patience? Her quiet wisdom? Or is it her sorrow that touches some place deep inside us? Is there one of us who could look into those gray eyes and see the weight of years behind them and not be mesmerized if only for a moment?” Cassandra’s image was replaced by McMichaels. The short, slightly dumpy, grandfatherly man continued his narration. “Over forty some-odd years as a journalist and especially these last twenty as chief of the Crystal Tokyo desk for the New York Times, I’ve had the opportunity to meet with Lady Cassandra many-a-time. I have seen those gray eyes in person. And this hoary old cynical reporter is comforted by the fact that we do have some claim on Sailor Athena, America’s Scout.”

The news desk reappeared along with the two anchor people. “And now to discuss the various theories as to Lady Cassandra’s mysterious absence, let’s go to Bryan Jenns.”

*****

In the stratojet descending slowly from the upper atmosphere high above the Great Plains, Ferra turned off the sound of TV in the communications cabin. Her mother had recommended that she watch the news broadcasts on the way over. “Ferrite,” Zoicite had said, “take this bit of advice. Watch American networks during the flight. It is a good way to get used to thinking in English and it’s a good way to get a feel for the atmosphere in Washington. Remember, while Marcacite is in charge of general security, you are Cassandra’s personal watchdog. She won’t admit it, but she’s had a rough time these past few months. Truthfully, she shouldn’t be going, but Kami-sama forbid that she take it easy. Try to keep her from being too stressed and for heaven’s sake keep those chaos-begotten tabloid journalists away from her!” Ferra glowered at the screen, seeing in the rampant speculation the impossibility of insulating her charge from the press.

The Guardswoman jumped when a voice sounded in her ear. “They do go on, don’t they?” Lady Cassandra said. “The news people, I mean.”

“Y-yes, milady,” Ferra stuttered. “I didn’t hear you coming.”

Cassandra smiled gently. “Don’t be upset. Sound is sorta my thing.” She waved a hand at the TV. “And don’t worry about them, either. I’m used to dealing with all types of journalists. They may occasionally get on my nerves, but I haven’t killed one yet. And I trust you to keep you temper, no matter what is said or done. I will deal with the press, not you, no matter what kind of order Zoicite may have given you. Is that clear, Guardswoman Ferrite?”

Ferra fought the urge to jump up to attention and settled for a nod. Lady Cassandra held her eyes for a long moment before turning away to head back down the stairs to the luxury seating in the main cabin. “How did you know about my orders?” Ferra asked tentatively as the gravid woman began her descent.

Cassandra paused, her hand on the railing and looked back over her shoulder. “I didn’t. I just know Zoë Silvers. She wants me wrapped in lambs’ wool. And since she couldn’t be here to do it, you are the only one she’d trust to try.” The pilot’s landing announcement ghosted from the plane’s internal speakers. “You’d better come along and strap in, too, Ferra. Your duties will begin when we set down.”

Ferra rose from her seat and followed her charge into the main cabin, fighting to keep her apprehension from showing. She made sure Lady Cassandra was properly seated and buckled in before she took the adjoining seat. The young woman ran a hand over her sidearm and mentally checked the contents of her subspace pocket. Her concentration was interrupted when Lady Cassandra tapped her on the knee.

“By the way,” Cassandra Whitmore Furuhata, Heir to Athena, Sailor Athena, Foreign Secretary of Crystal Japan said, “I trust you, too.”