Mercury just sighed, turning her head slightly, and catching the emerald-green hair of the Senshi of Time. “Yes?” she asked, knowing it would be important, as the others just tended to ask ‘done yet?’.
“I need to access some patterns to send to the replicator, both for now and when we are able to restore main power.”
“Oh?” asked Mercury.
Nodding, Setsuna leaned a bit further, allowing her to rapidly type on the small magical computer that Mercury had set down on an active console. “The first are pillows and blankets, so we can sleep, as I think everyone is a bit emotionally and physically exhausted from our mishaps today.”
“And the second need?” Mercury asked.
“Something to ensure anyone or anything else pulled back into the past by the Paradox Storm doesn’t end up in that hell outside,” she replied. “It’s called a Temporal Beacon.”
As the diagrams and molecular formulas of the blankets and pillows were sent off—making Mercury promise to ask Setsuna just was a Neptunian Silkworm was and how a gas giant had such life on it—the diagram for the crystal lattice that would be a beacon across time appeared. “I can see why this is reserved for later,” she murmured. The construction was extremely complex, with the crystal framework needing precision down to the atomic width, not something they had the power to spare for at the moment. “But what about—”
“Don’t worry,” Setsuna offered quietly, already guessing what Mercury was asking. “Once charged by me and activated, anything that would precede its activation would be routed to it.
“It is the best I can do,” she continued, wanting to keep their chat short so even she could grab some sleep. “It was an old way of using the Gates before a more advanced solution, which allowed the Guardian to accurately direct travelers and themselves through time, came into being. So by default, I can’t use it to stop myself, or any who traveled with me. But once charged; it uses my signature as a temporal default as in ‘pass no further, last stop here’.
“I also hope to put it in a nice, open cargo room with enough systems to keep whatever comes back alive, or at the very least, from harming others until we decide what to do with it.”
“So, what else might have come back?” Mercury asked with interest.
Setsuna shrugged. “Anything, anyone, and not just from our timeline either.
“A Paradox Storm tends to break things down when thinking of causality,” Setsuna explained, taking a seat on the console—being careful not to touch any buttons. “Put simply, since we came this far back, we’re not limited to a handful of possible timelines that may be pulled through, nor people who were minding their own business. We will get people, creatures, items from what could have been as well. And if people were traveling through time, they could be washed back here as well.
“Hell, for all I know, we might get three or four versions of Usa at once: before she met us, when she was Black Lady, and perhaps even a version sent back by my future self if she thinks the timeline was in danger, meaning not only could we end up with Chibi Sailor Moon, but Neo Sailor Moon, Usa as a late teen.”
Mercury’s eyes bugged out in shock.
“Not to mention evil counterparts, where other animals evolved before monkeys, unspeakable mutant horrors from beyond that would make movie monsters look like nuns,” she continued, before pausing, to see Mercury’s now pale face.
“W-why would we want most of that on the ship?” she stuttered.
“Most, we wouldn’t,” Setsuna shrugged. “Evil counterparts and whatnot could be dumped anywhere where they wouldn’t cause trouble. I’m hoping most will be kind—or at least not want to eat and/or control us. I’d also like to make sure a little thing like active WMDs or even power cores aren’t allowed to contaminate the place.
“Another reason I am waiting, because even with some technology from our past, the ship will need time to make it, integrate it, and master it, before we activate the beacon.”
Mercury nodded slowly, before turning back to her computer.
Letting out a deep sigh, Setsuna turned to the girl, turning her face towards hers. “Mercury, there is a reason this sort of information is restricted, why the mantle of Pluto is given to only a few choice people.
“But I will admit, I doubt the founders of our inheritance could have ever foreseen this.” Looking about, she saw the other girls mulling about, chatting about small things, Makoto and Minako near Ranma with Hotaru—who was still amazingly still feeding the pigtailed boy the porridge. It had to be nearing the tenth bowl now…
“It … it is just so much to take in,” Mercury responded.
Shaking her head, Setsuna looked up at the illuminated ceiling. She supposed in a way, it could be her fault. She never really prepared the girls for their roles, that sometimes, certain problems needed to be dealt with before they became problems. That sometimes, you could not save the ally.
Granted, she never expected them to ever come across evil versions of themselves. But they would now need to be prepared for that. A Paradox Storm washing across the timelines would not be as forgiving. They would need to be dissuaded from thinking things would still work out as they expected.
Hell, she wasn’t looking forward to trying to convince the Princess that while it was entirely possible that Endymion/Mamoru might also be brought back, it could literally be any version of him from any time, good or bad, and not even within her lifetime, leaving said man pursuing Usagi’s great-great-great grandchild.
And Cthulhu… Yeah, hopefully no beings from that possible timeline.
“We’re not going to get home, are we?” Mercury asked in a small voice.
“There is always a chance as long as we live,” Setsuna responded.
“But…?” Mercury asked. She all too well remembered Setsuna’s little speech about their Star Seeds, a Senshi’s lifespan.
“But nothing,” Setsuna growled. “If we give up, we might as well just kill ourselves now and let the Princess end up becoming Sailor Cosmos.” Turning, she sent a glare at Mercury. “It may take as little as a day, or even a thousand years, but I have faith that we will return home!”
Well, that or their descendants who looked nearly like them… But she felt that wasn’t what Mercury needed to hear.
Feeling somewhat reassured, Mercury nodded, turning back to her computer. “So, would you also like a status update?”
“If it wouldn’t be a bother,” Setsuna replied with a smile.
Chuckling lightly, Mercury responded. “As long as we keep getting those strikes on the current average, main power will be restored in a minimum of two days, maximum of a week. After that, they estimate another four days to repair all hull damages and be able to ascend into space—assuming we are willing to help blast apart some of the rock we are sunk in—as well as time to build enough drones to run the ship’s systems and replace needed crew.”
“How many?” Setsuna asked. Given that current plan, she was not looking forward to how some of the girls might react after having the ‘porridge’ for over a week. Usagi had already started asking the other girls to transform back and see if they had a sweetener packet on them.
The possibility that they might be stuck on a starship where the technological outnumbered the organic by a shitload-to-one was an even less pleasant thought. A few had not been too kind to the possibilities of a future like in The Matrix happening to them.
“A lot,” was all Mercury would say. She had been hoping this ship wasn’t very large, something the ten people now here could learn to work.
Not a chance! The ship this size wasn’t even conceived of in the sci-fi works she read—not that certain ships in Star Wars ever mentioned what a crew complement was. All she knew was what the Ship told her.
And even the Ship didn’t know the minimum required crew. It just knew that one simple fact of the species that ran it allowed for a maximum of ten thousand beings on it.
Just what said limitation was—life support, territorial requirement, etc…—was not in the salvageable database. For all she knew, the ship could support a hundred thousand humans.
Running it, however, with just a group on ten who barely understood even the basics of its systems… That would be impossible. Even with the best of intentions—and assuming that why the Ship kept referring to Ranma as ‘Captain’ meant something—it would still be an impossible chore.
So, they would need a fleet of androids to run the ship until an organic crew could.
And Mercury—the organic Senshi who could understand such items—couldn’t see the other women or unconscious male being able to replace many of those androids, let alone just replacing one of them.
Actually, it might be a better idea to keep Minako away from things all together, given her luck… She’d rather not plunge into a star because the Senshi of Love hit ‘A’ instead of ‘B’…
Setsuna just nodded, long used to the fact that not all systems could be run by organics, and that sometimes, one needed to trust that HAL wouldn’t send you out into space minus the environmental suit. She could only hope that these androids had software just as foolproof as the ones used during the Silver Millennium. “Okay,” the Senshi of Time murmured.
It was at least a start, better than considering which Senshi would be dinner that night, let alone worrying about their magic failing for some reason, their air being dispersed and their existence being wiped out by the proto-Earth’s atmosphere. Surely they could survive on the porridge … or at least trick some of the girls into believing it was changing.
Then again, maybe one of them did have a sugar packet or something. They were already doing pretty good, as Hotaru’s little ‘hanky’ had been the two-ply. And actually, she did wonder what some of the girls carried in their purses. If nothing else, like the blankets and the needed crystals, she could hope that the Mercury Computer had the patterns for a few foods from that era as well.
She could use a nice Jovian Whiskey right about now.
“Okay, girls!” she called out, walking over to the replicator. “Gather around, time for bed, and I just thought you may want a pillow and a blanket!”
“But … where are the beds?” asked Usagi. The only thing she could see that counted as one was the odd chair the pigtailed teen was still unconscious on.
“For the moment, you’re standing on it,” Setsuna offered.
“The floor?” asked Minako with a disgusted look on her face. She hadn’t seen any of the robots with a broom, let alone a vacuum.
Setsuna just shrugged. “Easier to keep a small area of the ship habitable, to conserve power, than open up more rooms, replicate beds, and sleep peacefully.
“Until we get main power restored, we need to conserve, so it is time to pick a partner, set one blanket on the ground, one on top, and get some sleep,” she continued, handing Hotaru a blanket and pillow, as she had been the first one up there. “So, we’re roughing it, so to speak.”
“For how long?” asked Makoto, grabbing her own offered pillow and blanket, before running her fingers over the material. “Feels like silk…”
“Until we get main power back,” Setsuna stated firmly. “The blankets I chose will stay clean, help keep you warm, and provide a bit of comfort from the floor.”
“Can’t we get some padding?” Rei asked.
“For now, sorry,” Setsuna offered. “Like I said, we’re trying to reduce what we use until we don’t have to worry about power.”
“Ow!” cried out Haruka, as Michiru grabbed her by the ear.
“We’ll take two,” the Senshi of Neptune stated. She knew her lover, and wasn’t about to spend her night, sleeping on the floor, constantly hearing, ‘Oops! Sorry, hand slipped’.
As the possibilities started to spring up, two boy-crazed Senshi—well, the ones that would admit it—realized two things.
One: there were nine girls, thus one would have to pair up with the cute boy.
Two: said cute boy was the only one with a seat/bed not on the floor.
Grabbing their offered blankets and pillows—held by a smirking Setsuna in each hand, as if she knew their thoughts—they turned quickly to try and race towards the seat.
They had declared a truce, not a bargain as to share him together in all things.
They, however, were too slow.
Before them, even as the other girls wondered why they had stopped and turned to see, was the boy, already with a pillow under his head, blanket over him, and a purple-haired teen snuggled into his side, between his body and his arm.
“Wow,” muttered Rei. “Never saw that coming.”
Michiru just glared at her lover.
“Oh, this is so not my fault,” Haruka waved off. “Now, if he was a she, then you might have a case.”
Of course, if Michiru had known where Hotaru had put Ranma’s hand under the blanket, Haruka never would have survived the wrath of a mother figure.
As the teens slept—even Ami, who had had to be dragged away from the console in the end—the only sounds heard were the whisperings noises of the ship’s android units, as they went about their assigned tasks. Chores that had been undone for countless moments of time were being accomplished while events allowed.
And not just repairs to the main drive, either. Auxiliary battery units, dead or damaged in the crash were slowly coming back online as components were replaced, power conduits reconnected or rerouted. With more batteries, the repairs could continue longer after the storm had passed, as now more power would be left over to do such.
Since untold time, the ship was starting to once again function, once again returning to what it was supposed to be. Was it meant to in such a manner? Who could say? Some memory files weren’t likely to be recovered.
The parts that had once stored them were not discarded, however. When more power was available, perhaps then it could recover those bits of information.
But not all energy was spent trying to replace the main power source for the massive spaceship. There was only so much that could be done, so many areas that could create the needed parts, so much room for the drive to be assembled, so much space for the androids to work. As much as they might have preferred, there was a limit to how fast the needed repair could be put together.
But they did not feel hopelessness, nor anger, at such events. True, they … missed the input of a crew, echoes of former commands, needs, tasks, and such that were not likely to return.
They continued on, as they were meant to, as there was nothing else to do. Rocks needed to be removed while viable from areas they could access. Eventually, the ship would need to lift off, and thus it would be helpful if thrusters had a clear area to vent. Material gathered from there was taken to stations, molecules and atoms to be broken down to the raw energy that made them, to be stored and recreated into materials and parts to further repairs. Soon, a shell of air would cover most of the hull in areas where it wouldn’t rebury the ship.
But if queried, the ship might express one desire, a desire all ships had. It wasn’t to know where it had come from, nor where it might go. True, that while those desires would exist for any ship that had an AI running it, they were not the most dominant, the single greatest desire this ship had.
It desired … a captain, and what more, it desired contact with that captain.
So once internal sensors confirmed the highest likelihood that the other assembled life forms were in a state of hibernation, a rest cycle that the species might use, the tri-optic android quietly made its way towards the lone chair in the room.
The optics shifted slightly, taking in the image, scanning deeper than what even human or even Silver Millennium science and magic could. After all, it did know enough of those who built it to know the depths of their knowledge, and compare it to what it had been able to access from the Mercury Computer.
Sadly, there is a distinct difference between technology evolution of a society in comparison and social evolution. As such, it pondered at least seventeen different possible meanings to the smaller female having placed the male’s hand on what the Mercury Computer had identified as her ‘buttocks’, under a clothing item identified as a ‘panties’.
Moving on, having devoted 0.004921 of their ‘seconds’ to consider that issue, it lowered its right upper appendage, to lightly grasp the human male’s free right hand. Gently and slowly, so as to not disturb the recovery hibernation of the being, it lowered the open palm onto the same orb the smaller female had used earlier.
Connection established with mind. Processing… Full connection established.
Its chore done, the android turned around, quietly making its way back to a nearby console to continue his work.
Although, if queried, it would state that it felt the chances of leaving the current situation of the ship and entering into an improved one had increased dramatically.
Translation: it felt things were going to be okay.
Read the comments on this episode
See other episodes by The Demented Redhead
(Posted Sat, 06 Aug 2011 04:21)
Questions? Problems? Suggestions?
Send a mail to addventure@bast-enterprises.de
or use the contact form.
らんま1/2 © Rumiko Takahashi
All other series and their characters are © by their respective creators or owners. No claims of ownership of these characters are implied by the authors of this Addventure, or should be inferred.
The Anime Addventure is a non-profit site.