[BGM: Testament, "Electric Crown"]
 
 (TDSS Ronald Reagan, 21750422:0645)
      This time I'm not coming back.
      Every other time I've strapped in, I've had a good feeling, a positive 
mood, which I suppose some people would consider sick, but I don't talk to the 
shrinks and they don't talk to me. This time is different. The cards are stacked
too high against us. Julie said once that we each controlled enough firepower to
level Japan with some left over for Korea,  but this time it's not going to be 
enough.
      And that's all right. This is the day I've been waiting for, ever since I 
raised my hand and took the oath as a cadet in the Aerospace Force. All that 
matters  is that we get the doggies home, and if I happen to get blown to 
emcee-squared, then I'm  all right with that.
      Julie doesn't understand, not really. She tried to talk to me about it, 
tried to cheer me up and bring me out of what she sees as a suicidal mood, but 
she doesn't see things the way I do. I just want to go home, and the Imperials 
are being kind enough to  send me home.
      Of course, that doesn't mean I'm going to roll over and let them.
 
(0715)
      Everything is green on my Starfighter. The crew chief and my techies  
pamper me shamelessly, tuning all the systems "to eleven", and leaving little 
gifts in the cockpit or at the door of my quarters. Julie says they think I'm 
their good luck charm, their talisman.
      I think part of it is that so many of them have kids of their own, 
daughters and sons far away on Fortress Luna, the colonies, or the stations 
around the empty  stars...like Faraway was. They see me as one of their own, in 
a way that Julie isn't and never can be.
      Five minutes to launch. General Wayland opens a channel to me, looks at
my face all calm and relaxed, and decides whatever he's going to say can wait. 
He nods and wishes me good luck and good hunting, as he always does, and I thank
him as I always do. 
      The time slides away. I compose a brief farewell for Tetsuko and pop it
off into the  shipboard mail system. Julie opens a channel.
      "Shiori?"
      "Julie."
      "I'm scared, Shiori."
      "It's okay, Julie. We're going to be okay. You'll see."
      She nods, but it's clear she doesn't believe me. I advise her to meditate 
a little, in the few minutes remaining, and she closes the channel.
 
(1125)
      My body is on fire, pain washing through me as the feedback circuits  
inform me of all the damage that's burned through the screens into my steel and 
silicon flesh. The pain is a minor distraction, though. I still have my claws 
and my teeth, and full control of the thrusters that whip me through a tight, 
complex spin and burn that wipes out most of the incoming missiles; the remainder get trashed by the point defense lasers,  but the shielding is 
starting to fail on that flank and I feel a slight lick of flame across  my 
back. I punch back with the Hellbores, add a couple of burps from the ion 
cannons, and one more Imperial destroyer flares into a new star as its fusion 
bottle ruptures. 
      Julie's in worse shape. She's taken some heavy hits to her thrusters and 
can't move as well as I can. An unlucky hit early in the fight took out her 
ventral screens, too, so she's spent a lot of her time trying to keep that away 
from the enemy. Mostly it's worked. Sometimes it hasn't.
      The rest of the squadron's herding the assault shuttles back to the  
Reagan. They're just minutes from being safely away from the Imperials who are 
doing their best to blow their way past Julie and I and nail the shuttles.
      Now it happens. Somebody finally gets smart on the other side, and blows  
off an EMP warhead barely a kiloklick away. All my screens go dark for a second,
and the kinetic kill heads right behind it slam into me just as the optical 
backups come on line. It's like being run through with a crosscut saw, and even 
with all the training and the meditation it's almost enough to make me black 
out.
      It's worse for Julie. She's just hanging there...the biosystems readout 
says she's still alive, but not for long if she doesn't get out of there, and 
she can't. All  her systems are red, but the Imperials don't know that, and 
there's another flight of missiles on the way.
      I kick the drive to life and dive for her, flailing at the oncoming wave. 
It's a mixed bag of nukes and kinetics, and I don't know if I can bag all of 
them. Our decoys and EW pods are all gone by now, scoured out of space by the 
big EMP blast, so it's  active defense or nothing. 98, 95, 86...I'm taking a 
toll of them, but I'm going to have to be right on top of her to make this work.
      The shuttles are in, and the rest of the squadron is coming. Too late, 
girls. By the time you get here we're going to be dead meat or heroines, and I'm
betting on the meat. If Wayland's smart, he'll sound the recall and get the hell
out. He knows we'll blow the Starfighters.
      20, 15, 8...almost, but I'm not going to get all of them. Nothing for it 
but to get between them and Julie. I cut the link and drop back into the real 
world, bloody and aching from  the stigmata effect. The manual controls are slow
and awkward, but I'm where  I need to be... just as the missiles hit.
      In the last few nanoseconds of life, I can see the endless whiteness where
Mother and Father are waiting for me. I can smell the cherry blossoms, and I 
know where I am. Goodbye, Julie. Hello, Mother. Hello, Father.
      I'm home.
 
(Bloomington, MN 20040425:0030)
      "No, this won't do at all." He shook his head and reached for the ^H 
key combination. When the window popped up, he typed "Shiori" in the first
box, tabbed to the second, and typed "Reiko".
      The mulberry-haired girl in the flight suit, mere nanoseconds from 
incineration, vanished, replaced by a pale, black-haired girl who looked vaguely
like the first. All through the document,"Shiori" vanished and was replaced by 
"Reiko".

(Ohtori Academy, ????0422:1130)
      Shiori Takatsuki snapped awake with a scream. She looked about wildly,
her hands reaching for...what? Everything looked exactly as it should on a 
spring day at Ohtori, but everything looked somehow - wrong. She closed her eyes
and took a deep breath. The air was full of the sweet scent of roses, instead 
of...the vague suggestion of plastic hoses and cold air passed through her mind
briefly and then disappeared.
      A tall woman in the uniform of the Student Council leaned over her, 
concern in her eyes. "Shiori, are you all right?"
      Shiori barely restrained the impulse to jump to her feet and wrap her 
sempai in a crushing hug. "Juri-sempai, you're...you're-" alive, she almost 
said. No. That way lay madness. Instead she hugged herself, looked down, and 
answered quietly. "It was nothing. Just a nightmare while I was napping."
      Juri frowned. "Are you sure you're going to be all right? You've been 
looking pretty stressed these last few months."
      Shiori nodded, still not looking at Juri. "It's the dreams. It's like some
horrible story that I couldn't escape from." She looked up and smiled. "I think 
it's over now, though. I don't know why, but I feel - different, somehow. Free."
      "Good. You're coming to practice today."
      "Yes."
      "I'll see you there, then." With that, Juri nodded and walked away.
      Shiori sighed in relief. Juri was alive. She was alive. It was a beautiful
spring day at Ohtori. All was right with her world.