Apotheosis:

			      A New Story Of

			     Bubblegum Crisis

Chapter Six

	The dragon was not exactly like the image that Nene associated
with the type -- a long, snake like body with an enormous, lion-like head
and four legs with talons on the paw-like hands.  All those elements were
present in the creature before her, but they were twisted, almost
perverted so as to indicate that this was something other than a
benevolent spirit.

	For example, there were the bat-like wing membranes attached to
the creature's first pair of limbs.  There was the heavy plating on the
tail end of the creature that turned it into a spike.  There was the ooze
or slime that covered it, dripping to the ground where it sizzled.  There
were the moustache-like tentacles that came out of the snout of the beast.

	And then there were the two pairs of eyes on either side of the
dragon's head. They were mostly black, like those of an animal, but there
was a tiny pinprick of light in each one.  They kept catching Nene's eye,
luring it into an almost hypnotic gaze, and yet Nene also knew that in
some way she was beneath this creature's notice.

	Aethan was outmatched from the very beginning, of course.  Though
he fought with fluidity and ferocity that Nene had never seen equaled,
even in Sylia at her finest, the dragon-thing was vastly more powerful,
and it showed in every exchange of blows.  Only a few moments into the
fight -- it could not be called a duel, but it was far too elegant to be
thought of as a brawl -- the armour that had been so flawless and shining
at the inception was scarred, battered, and covered in burn marks.  But
the green light from the eyeslit shone undimmed.

	Some part of Nene, the part that had probably gotten her into this
mess in the first place, urged her to test whether or not the weaponry
of her hardsuit somehow had analogues on the astral plane by charging the
beast.

	The more mature elements of her personality, which had been
unusually influential in her decision-making of late, kept her following
the orders that Aethan had given her earlier, to monitor the vicinity of
battle for intruders.

	The battlefield, as she'd noted in the instants just after she'd
been dragged onto the astral plane, was a vast, barren landscape that
resembled the Gobi desert.  Which made sense, in a way, when you
considered the fact of the hellgate which had been burning here for about
thirty eight years, according to Aethan.  This had been the center of that
inferno.  Of course it looked like a wasteland.

	There was an opaque green circle hanging in mid-air, through which
the dragon had emerged moments before.  It was ominously silent, as though
it had not finished ...

	Suddenly Nene looked up to see that Aethan was stumbling back,
about to fall onto her.  She caught him, held him, strained under the
weight of him.  He was breathing heavily, for the first time since they'd
met.  She could not see his panting breaths, but she could feel them.

	*Michael,* he gasped.  *One more cast in your memory, Michael.
I've nothing else to give.*  His voice sounded faint, as though he were at
the point of exhaustion.

	/Aethan!/ she shouted, shaking him.  /Tell me what to do, how to
help!/

	She looked up at the dragon, which was staring down at them from a
great height, malevolent intelligence glistening in its pinprick eyes.
And then its throat swelled up, and Nene knew with a horrifying certainty
what was going to happen.

	The firey explosion seemed to almost force the dragon's jaws open
as it issued forth, streaking towards them.

	At the last possibly instant, Aethan flung up a hand, and the
astral space around them seemed to grow a little denser, a little more
opaque.  The burst of flames parted around them, but Nene could still feel
its heat and smell the ozone-like odour of its passage.

	*Nene.*

	/What?!/

	*You must do a thing for me, Nene.  Slowly count to ten.  Then
scream as though your life depended on it -- for it DOES.*

	/And then?/

	*Prayer would be a good idea.*

	/WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO?/

	*What we are all born to do.*

	And then he lowered the empty hand, and raced forward, the
exhaustion he had shown earlier vanishing.  Aethan seemed to be fashioned
of mercury then, as he twisted and spun through the attacks, ripostes, and
feints that he flung against the dragon's almost inpenetrable defenses,
using sword, spell, and his naked fist.  None of it seemed to injure or
even inconvenience the thing.  It did not even seem particularly angered.

	And then Nene's silent count reached ten, and she let out the
highest-pitched, loudest wail of pure terror that she'd ever given in her
entire life.

	The dragon's head jerked around to take a quick glimpse at the
source of the unearthly noise and Aethan leapt holding his sword in a two
handed grip as he dove towards the back of the dragon's neck and Nene
closed her eyes so that the dragon wouldn't see the hope in them and ...

	... there was the sound of flesh being torn open.
 
	Nene opened her eyes.

	Aethan was impaled on the dragon's horn-like tail, its tip
protruding from just under his ribcage.  He hung only a foot away from his
objective.

	The dragon turned slowly to look at him, moving sinuously to bring
its head up to Aethan's face.  Its eyes glowed, and the armour that Aethan
was wearing faded into nothingness, and there was only Aethan himself.
Aethan as he was in the material plane.

	`An intriguing tactic,' the dragon hissed.  `A noisemaker spell to
distract me, and then a lethal blow?'

	Aethan coughed, and blood trickled from his mouth.

	`Foredoomed to failure, mortal.  I have sensory organs in places
that you cannot even conceive.  And now, I am going to consume you.
Slowly.'

	*Without even asking my name?* Aethan murmured.

	`What will your name be when I have consumed you?  It matters
naught, less than it matters now.  But amuse me; tell me your name.'

	*My name ... is Aethan DeGales ... archmage ...* and he was silent
for a long moment, though his lips continued to move.

	And then he lifted his bowed head, and opened his mouth wide,
revealing a hundred rows of a thousand sharp, gleaming teeth.  *AND
VAMPYRE!* he screamed before he snapped his jaws closed on the bulk of the
dragon's face.

	The dragon roared in pain, and began to shake violently, trying to
force Aethan to release the bite.  Aethan's eyes were burning with a green
flame, even as the spiked tail on which he hung impaled jerked with such
force that Nene could hear his ribs begin to shatter.  Blood dripped from
his body with every convulsion, but he never released the grip.

	And then the dragon gave a final convulsion, and slumped to the
ground.  The faint pinpricks of light faded.

	Aethan held his position for a few seconds more, then released.
Deep red blood dripped from his mouth, sizzling as it did.  The fire in
his eyes was dim, now, and he made odd noises as he struggled to pull
himself off of the tail spike.  Nene began to rush forward to help him.

	`Did you enjoy that little taste of my life?'

	Aethan froze, and so did Nene.  The dragon's eyes were still dark,
but it moved.

	`You are a fool to imagine that you can kill me by draining my
astral form of its power, Aethan DeGales archmage and vampyre.  My life
force is sourced in *both* the physical and the astral, and you can harm
only the one, and not the other.  I am weak, now, and an attack from
the physical could destroy me -- but your wounds are so grievous as to
prevent such a thing.  And now I shall consume you, swiftly, for I hunger
for the life in this world.  There shall I feast, and when I am sated, I
shall tear open the gates between the worlds, that my brethren may feast
as well.  But you shall not see it.'

	And Nene looked then into Aethan's eyes, and she saw his despair.
<I have played all my trumps,> those hopeless eyes seemed to whisper.  <I
have plotted, I have schemed, I have wounded myself, I have maimed myself,
and it has all been for nothing.  It is over.>

	/No,/ whispered Nene Romanova.

	The dragon seemed to be ignoring her, brought the tail that held
Aethan's weakly struggling body up to its slowly opening mouth.

	/No, damn you!  Leave him alone!/ she screamed.

	It showed no signs of hearing it.

	And then Nene knew.

	She was not beneath the dragon's notice.  She was *beyond* it.  It
was now completely on the physical plane, while she was seeing it from the
astral.  She was as invisible as a ghost to the dragon.

	And with the knowledge came action.

	The power was all around her, all that she needed were the tools
to grasp it.  With an instant's thought, she was back in her hardsuited
body.  She had seen the effect that she desired to replicate before, and
she remembered more of it than she wanted, in truth.

	The algorithm and program were easy to develop, and the security
codes were like butter to a cracker of Nene's skill.

	Once inside the system, it was child's play to alter the source
code to her specifications, as what she wanted was not, on the cosmic
scale, unreasonable.

	And so she rewrote reality.

	High above, an orbital laser sattelite fired.

				*    *    *

	At the end, when there could be no final words, there was instead
a final thought.

	*I am Aethan DeGales, known among the councils of the wise as the
Gray.  Well met.  And you?*

	AN OLD FRIEND.

				*    *    *

	"Nene!"

	Why was it so dark?

	"Nene!"

	*Oh.  Perhaps I'm dead.  Shit.*

	"Nene, wake up!"

	*Wait.  If I were dead, would I be hurting this much?  I really
hope not.  OH!  Maybe my eyes have burnt out from the ... oh.*

	"Could somebody please open my visor?" Nene whispered.  "I'd do it
myself, but I can't move."

	The visor came open rather easily, and Nene blinked in the
unexpectedly bright light.  Sylia was crouched over her, with Priss and
Linna standing nearby, just inside her Nene's field of vision, which also
took in the sky.

	The roof of the Nekohanten was gone.  Turning a bit, she could see
that the entire building had been reduced to burnt rubble.

	"Nene, what happened?" Sylia demanded.

	"Aethan and I ... did what we had to do," she answered.

	"*This* is what you intended?"

	"I guess so," Nene replied.  <This is what we ... I set in
motion.  It is what I intended to be.  I think.>

	"Where is Mr. DeGales?"

	"He was over there," Nene indicated with a head motion.

	Priss looked in the direction indicated.  "Ground zero.  Wow."

	Sylia was silent for a very long moment, looking at the remains of
the restaurant.  Then she returned to Nene.  "Nene, are you all right?"

	Nene saw no reason to start lying now.  "No."

	They helped her up, carrying her into the van, where the hardsuit 
could be removed, and the damage assessed.

	Some of the damage, anyway.

				*    *    *
  
	Katherine Madigan, Genom's single most powerful practitioner of
what superstitious fools called magic, sat in her private office, drumming
her fingers on the arm rest of her chair.

	Abruptly, she stopped.  "Update file `Aethan DeGales', field
`Power Level': Deity-level.  Update field `current status': Presumed
deceased.  Open field `Commentary'."  She paused, gathering her thoughts.

	"Subject is believed to have been incinerated as a result of an
apparently accidental discharge of a USSD orbital laser satellite.
Whether this `accident' was the result of an unstable dynamic effect or a
deliberate suicide, it is clear that DeGales was solely responsible for
it, as there are no other active beings with the power capability to seize
control of the multiply redundant security mechanisms involved.  
Therefore, the only question that remains is the identity of DeGales'
`apprentice', and exactly what degree of power she has awakened to.  It is
unlikely, however, that she constitutes a threat to Genom.  At this
juncture.  Close file."

	<However,> Madigan thought, <she may very well pose a threat to
*me*.  She can't be much more than an adept, though.  She *can't* be a
full practitioner.  Impossible.>

				*    *    *

	Nene woke up in a strange bed, feeling the bandages around her
right ankle, the burns and bruises across her body, and the weight on her
heart.

	"You really are a lot more trouble than you're worth," Priss
drawled from the doorway, leaning against the frame in her motorcycle
leathers.

	Nene turned to look at her with a blank expression.  "Where am I?"

	"Some clinic that I think Sylia owns, or else one with an
administrator that she's got something on ... you're in pretty bad shape,
for you."

	Nene considered pulling herself up into a seating position,
winced, and decided to not bother.  She gave Priss another hard stare.
For some reason, though, whatever had been backing it up earlier was
absent, and Priss was able to meet her gaze with equanimity.  "How long
was I out?" Nene finally demanded.

	"Only a few hours."  Priss stared at Nene in silence for a few
moments.  "So, you gonna tell me about it?"

	"What?"

	"What happened?  Orbital laser strikes don't happen every day, not
even in this crazy town.  I wanna know what went on.  Maybe Sylia's okay 
about not knowing exactly what we got dragged into -- but I wouldn't count
on that, if I were you -- but I'm not.  I want to know."

	"I don't ... just leave me alone."  Nene closed her eyes.

	"I'm not going anywhere."

	"GODDAMN YOU!" Nene screamed, her eyes flashing open.  "JUST LEAVE
ME ALONE!"

	Priss raised an eyebrow.  "Ain't that supposed to be one of my
lines?"  She peered at Nene, then nodded.  "I get it.  You're doing that
`I'm won't cry until gorilla-woman leaves' routine, right?"

	"I am *not*!"

	"Bullshit, Nene.  Quit trying to be as tough as me!  You're not
me, you don't *want* to be me, and I can tell that you're hurting, so let
it out!"

	Nene shook her head violently ... and then stopped, suddenly, as
she felt the tears begin to flow down her face.  She stared at Priss
through them, and was startled to realize that the other woman's usual
mocking, cynical expression was gone.  There was a softness on her face
that Nene had never seen ... and then the sobbing began, and Nene couldn't
see anything.

	But she could feel the arms holding her tightly, and hear the
gentle whispering that it was going to be all right ...

	Eventually, the sobbing passed, and Priss released Nene, backing
up to the door wordlessly, and turning to go.  "Tell you what.  Don't tell
anybody about that, and I won't ask anymore about whatever the hell
happened.  Deal?" she asked over her shoulder.

	Nene nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

	"And Nene?  Try not to get yourself killed.  I'm gonna have to
kick your ass if you do."

	And then she was gone.

				*    *    *

	On one channel, USSD was denying any culpability in the recent
accidental activation of one of their laser satellites, while on the
other Genom was announcing the renewal of their construction on the Nerima
research facility.

	Oddly, the Knight Sabres had not even been mentioned.

	Sylia sighed, and turned off the television.  <The worst part of
it is that after all that, we're only going to get the half of the payment
that our `client' deposited beforehand.  Dammit.>

	Turning to the computer, she wearily examined her secret e-mail
drop, and noted that there was a UPGP encrypted note there.  She unlocked
it, and read it silently.

		I always keep my promises, Sylia.

		The password is 2G3a5z9T3h5E9q2.

		Don't spend it all in one place.

		Aethan, and good day.

	<No,> Sylia thought, <the worst part is he somehow managed to get
the last word.>

				*   *   * 

	Nene sat in the stern of the boat, looking into the inpenetrable
mists.  She was wearing a white dress of a very old-fashioned nature.

	"Don't turn around," said a very familiar voice.

	She whirled to look towards the bow.  Sitting there was Aethan,
wearing a set of dark gray robes, holding an oar in each arm.  He had a
face like a stormcloud.  "I told you not to turn around!" he snarled.

	"What -- where are we?" Nene exclaimed.

	Aethan looked around.  "Looks like a lake, somewhere."

	"Is that the best you can do?"

	"Ahem!  It is *your* dream, Nene."

	Nene blinked.  "I'm ... dreaming all this?  None of this is real,
then."  Her face began to quiver as if she was about to start crying.

	"Did I say, this is *your* unreal event, Nene?  No.  This is a
dream, which for you means that it is as `real' as anything you experience
when you're awake."

	"But you're not ..."

	"I may be a symbol, Nene.  I may be a representation of your
superego, as Freud might put it, telling you not to grieve overmuch for
Aethan DeGales.  Or I might be a mixture of your memories of him with some
other aspect of your personality.  Or ... there are always possibilities."

	"So now what?"

	"Now let me ask you a question.  Did Aethan not tell you that he
knew there was a possibility that he might die in the process of killing
the vimogorge?"

	"Yes.  But not that *I'd* kill him!"

	"You didn't, Nene.  Aethan would almost certainly have died even
if you hadn't caused that satellite discharge.  In consuming the energy of
the vimogorge, he set his insides on fire, in essence.  By your actions,
he was spared a painful death."

	"Wait a minute!  If you're just a figment of my personality, then
maybe you're just a part trying to get me to rationalize away my guilt!
Maybe you're my shadow, or whatever the darker impulse is called ..."

	"That's a possibility, Nene ... but I have told you all that I can
to help ease your burdens.  If you choose to weigh yourself down with the
guilt that you feel, that is your choice.  It is almost time."

	"Time for what?" Nene demanded.

	"Let's take a walk, shall we?" the figure who looked like Aethan
DeGales suggested, and stood up, stepping onto the dry land that had just
materialized beside the boat.  Nene followed him wordlessly.

	They walked for a very long time, though Nene was never able to
remember just how long.  Aethan moved with swift, sure strides, and she
was hard pressed to keep up with him.  His skin was becoming the same
grayish colour as his robes.

	Eventually, they came to a tree.  An oak ... no, an ash ... no, a
fig ... it was hard for her to tell what kind of tree it was.  It was a
very big tree, however, stretching up as far as she could see.

	Aethan touched the tree with reverence.  "I always suspected that
it was real ... just hidden, somewhere."

	"What is that?"

	"This is the Tree of Lives, Nene.  Everyone that lives, everyone
that ever has, everyone that ever will ... are here.  The courses of our
lives are grooves in the bark of the tree.  Here," he touched a certain
spot, "is the life of Aethan DeGales.  Would you look on it?"

	Nene stepped closer to the tree, and looked down at the section of
bark that he was pointing out.  It went down a long way, curling down to
the roots.  "He lived a very long time, didn't he?"

	"A very long time.  And look at all the lives he touched."

	Nene knelt to get an even closer look.  Other grooves in the bark
crossed the one that Aethan, or rather the person that looked like Aethan
had claimed as his own.  Their courses were always different for the
crossing.  Some ended soon after, others veered off in wildly different
directions ...

	Nene rose to stand again, and lifted her eyes to look at the spot
where the line would terminate.  The place where it touched the line that
was hers.

	The groove was growing fainter as it kept climbing higher, until
it met another, deeper line in the bark.

	The line that was Aethan terminated.  But the line that was Nene
took up the course that it had followed.

	"So it always is, Nene Romanova.  In your time, you will become
the greatest magic worker that the worlds have ever known.  Your works
will become legends.  And at the end of your life, you will awaken
another, whose power and wisdom will be as far beyond you as yours will
be beyond me."

	Nene turned to look at the source of the voice.

	The grayness had spread, and he was now only a blurry gray figure,
from which two green lights shone, in the area that might have been the
head.  She stepped back.

	"Do not fear the darkness, Nene," Aethan's voice came from the
figure.  "Beyond it is a mystery, true, but there is no need to fear the
mystery ... in the fullness of time, it may be that you will transcend
even the limitations of being that require my passage.  I cannot say.  I
am proud of you, grand daughter of Anna Romanova, whom I loved.  I am
proud of you ... Nene-san."

	And then he was rising, soaring, climbing the heights of the tree
beyond her ability to see him ... and she stared upwards in wonder, and
for a second she knew everything ...

	And then she woke up.  She was lying in a hospital bed, in a
second rate hospital, in a city on the brink of disaster, in a world on
the verge of collapse.

	There was indeed a lot of work to be done.

	And Nene smiled.

				The End.

Authors Notes

	In the Envoi of the first "Sandman" trade paperback, Neil Gaiman
offers the following bit of authorial wisdom:

	"Never apologise, never explain."

	Set against my recognition of this wisdom is the fact that, deep
down, I want my readers to appreciate all the little tricks that went into
the making of this story, in much the same way as a magician is torn
between mystifying his audience and revealing just how the trick works, so
that they can truly appreciate his talent.

	So I'm going to explain SOME things.

	The genesis of this story can be traced to six principal
sources, aside from "Bubblegum Crisis" itself.  John Walter Biles
"Ranmapunk 2033" was a tremendous inspiration to me, as were Diane Duane's
trilogy of "Young Wizards" novels (Before you ask, I know there's a fourth
volume, I just haven't read it.  Yet.)  There's a pretty clear influence
on the work originating from the role-playing games "Mage:  The Ascension"
and "Shadowrun".  Yet more inspiration came from the short story "Waldo"
by Robert A. Heinlein.

	The last inspiration was of course "Sailor Moon."  Go fig.

	Aethan DeGales began his fictional career (which continues, in a
much more reduced capacity, to this day) as my avatar on alt.vampyres.  In
three years, I have built up enough backstory about him to write at least
three novels, if I ever get the chance.  More probably, I will keep on
telling stories about his present and future.

	The story of the struggles in 1996 WILL get told.  It is "My
Personal Anime Crossover From Hell."

	Once again, I owe a great debt to Jeanne Hedge, for making sure
that I didn't screw this delicate tale up.

	The characters and world of Bubblegum Crisis were created by
Kenichi Sonoda, Toshimichi Suzuki, and others, and brought to North 
America by AnimEigo.  The woman on the bus was created by Naoko Takeuchi 
and brought to North America by DIC.  Aethan DeGales was created by Chris 
Davies.  The preceding story, while incorporating aspects of motion 
pictures held under copyright by others, is copyright 1996 by Chris Davies.

	Nobody Sue Me Okay?

Chris Davies, Advocate for Darkness, Part-Time Champion of Light.
"I am not a very nice person anymore." - Rand al'Thor, "Crown of Swords"
http://www.ualberta.ca/~cdavies/hmpage.html