Starlit Ruins

by Simon Woodington

“So you really are that 'Sliver' chick?” Han asked, sounding somewhat skeptical. His eyes traced her figure again underneath her clothes. He still was having trouble getting used to the idea of her being so pretty and tough at the same time. The fact that she was so tough made her more attractive, he reasoned.

  “Yeah,” Makoto confirmed with some measure of ill ease.

  “What are you?” He gazed at her. She was silent a moment, nearly expectant. Han looked puzzled. Then he clued in; the fight, the kiss. He frowned, almost looking sheepish.

  “Hey look, it's not like I mind you bein' all powered up an CyberKnight-like… but I never figgered a legend to be a chick, unless it was Erin Tarin,” he started. Makoto indicated to him that she was listening by raising an eyebrow. “I mean, every girl I've been with couldn't fight. Scared dumb of it. But you know, I ain't gonna argue 'cause’a money.”

  Makoto gazed at him steadily. He hadn't answered the question. He rapped his fingers on his thigh and said, “Well, yeah, I'll say it: You’re sexy when ya fight.”

  Even though he seemed finished, Makoto said nothing in reply. Again, he took a moment to speak.

  “What can I say about the kiss, Mako? Maybe I did it 'cause I don't know how else to say… what I just said.”

  Something grabbed her. She could not be sure exactly what it was, at first. She knew, however, that it was something about him. She regarded him, wanting, for a reason she could not quite understand, to hold him, to kiss him again. She closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind of the thought. Stubbornly, the desire remained.

  “Hey, you okay?” he asked. She looked at him and nodded.

  What is it about him? Why do I… a knot tightened in her stomach. Even thinking of it brought the desire forth, like a lure. What is the difference between Han and the other men… no, boys. The thought dawned that this was the first man that she was attracted to. That is what it was. She was uncertain. Almost… afraid.

  “Hey babe?”

  Of him? No, that wasn't it. But… what? Makoto snapped out of her trance of thought. “Um, yeah. I was just thinking.”

  He smirked. “I kinda got the feeling you were like me when it came to thinking. I usually go for the trouble first. Even if I know it.”

  Makoto was not sure what to say. “I guess so.”

  He leaned forward. “We can't stay here too long, sexy, but maybe you could tell me something about being a… uh, what is it?”

  “Sexy?” she returned with an amused smile and a warmth in her face. “Guess I could.”

  It turned out that Hanlan did not live very far away. He lived in the top floor of the building, in fact. Laray and he had been friends for years, and helped each other out in the knowledge starved society the CS was creating. Laray was kind enough provide Hanlan with weapons (at a friendly price of 40% black market value) when he needed them, and Hanlan, in turn, mostly due to the type of people he hung around with, kept up a steady flow of clients for the cyber-doc and part time techno-wizard. Unfortunately, Laray was really bad at the latter, so he avoided it most of the time.

  Makoto and Hanlan sat across from each other in his three-room home. The main part consisted of a kitchen/livingroom - or rather, what passed for one - bedroom, and storage-bathroom. The bedroom was in shambles. Apparently he was a much more efficient fighter than keeper of house and home. Not that this surprised her; most men like him relied on women - often very much like their mothers - to keep such things in order. It could have been worse, most of his clothes had somehow ended up in a pile - destined for what she hardly cared. The rest consisted of Pre-Rifts artifacts; mostly melee type and other ancient type weapons.

  “You know we didn't even have a chance,” Makoto began, somewhat hesitant. “Only I could transform, and no way could I have fought them off alone.”

  Han gazed at her, not quite sure what he was hearing. “Uh, what? Whaddya mean, 'transform'?”

  “The slaver barge. Uh, my… well, I have a pen that turns me into a sailor suited warrior.”

  “A what?” he asked with a quirked brow. “Show me?”

  “Well, I…” her mouth curled in consideration. “Um…”

  “I won't laugh,” he grinned. “Promise.”

  She frowned, worrying on exactly that point. Gradually, she nodded. With a motion practised to the point of expertise, she brought the pen into the air above her head and called: “Sailor Jupiter - Make Up!”

  There were no lights, no flashing lines of energy, just Suddenly Jupiter. She gazed over herself as Hanlan took in an eyeful, and then some. “You sure you ain't some kinda street wal…”

  Her stern glare cut him off. “I didn't do this so you could leer at me!”

  “Uh, okay, sorry. Why don't you just sit down, huh? We can talk, okay? You can tell me about the… uh…”

  “Senshi?”

  “Well, uh, actually, the Splugores, or whatever y' call 'em.”

  “Splugorth,” she pronounced delicately. “I guess. There's not much to tell, really. We woke up in Atlantis, all still together.”

  She paused, noting his politely raised hand. “Okay there sexy, who's 'we'?”

  She glanced at her hands as they fiddled with the hem of her mircoskirt. “My friends. Ami… Usagi, Rei, and Minako.”

  “All girls?” A nod. “Okay. Go for it.”

  She threw him a look, indicating that she hadn't exactly been waiting for his permission. He shrugged. “Apparently we were together because of our uniqueness, being aliens - from the moon, I mean.”

  “So Atlantis is legit?”

  “Yeah, where'd you figure I got my scars from, hm?” she set upon him nastily.

  “Kinky sex life?” he half-grinned, eying her skirt as if to peer underneath.

  Makoto sighed. She began to wonder what she saw in him until she looked at him again. The thoughts of his ill-humor faded. Every time she thought about it, she was falling more deeply in love with him. “I met someone called Sivil Nira.” Makoto closed her eyes for a moment, as if watching an unpleasant scene play in her mind. “She… brought us together, and…”

  “What happened to her?” For a moment a flicker of recognition shone in his eyes. Makoto noticed, but in her state, it failed to register.

  “She died attacking one of them,” she said, her voice hushed with emotion. Han's eyebrows knitted and his gaze fell for an instant. “She had to create a diversion for us to escape.”

  “So tall, leggy?”

  “What kinda… well, yeah, she did have long legs…”

  “Ah damn. That sucks. That really, really sucks,” Han stated, sounding sullen.

  Makoto arched an eyebrow. “You talk like you knew her.”

  “Yeah, actually, I did. She was a client, and an old girlfriend. Freaky, huh?” He spoke with a soft wistfulness in his tones, and the anxiousness of recollection.

  “Yeah,” she replied somewhat numbly.

  “So how'd ya get here?”

  She shook her head, lifting her hands to her head and rubbing her temples.

  “Okay,” he shrugged. “You take is easy, K? I'm just gonna get up here in a sec and… uh… you hungry?”

  Her eyes widened. “You have a kitchen in this dump?”

  “Yeah there's a hotplate someplace an' a coupla shelves, an, yeah a fridge – I think,” he replied with a chuckle. “What? You cook?”

  “Oh yeah,” she smiled and stood up to approach the one wall culinary outfit. Modest was a kind word that could not have been attributed to the kitchen-like structure, but it was enough. A keyword both were used to living by. Popping open the waist-high refrigerator, she began rummaging through the contents, and plucked out the occasional useful item. Mind you, they could all be useful, if one was skilled, knowledgeable, and creative enough. Fortunately, this was an area in which she excelled even when out of practice. Ten minutes later she had a vegetable, ham, sweet and sour sauce stir fry prepared and served.

  “Gots damn,” Hanlan gasped as he gaped at the plate set before hi
m. He'd never seen such a well prepared meal before. Not in his apartment, anyway.

  Itadakimasu… she thought half-heartedly, then corrected him, “Actually, it's 'thank you'.”

  “Oh, uh… yeah!” he smiled. “Wow! Uh… thank you. Looks, cooks, and kicks ass! Damn, you rock, Makoto.”

  She gave him a curious glance briefly. “I will tell you how I escaped from… uh…”

  “What was the place like? All white like a hospital?”

  She nodded, chewing delicately.

  “Musta been Neo Tech. They're the only outfit out here coulda kept a CyberKnight under wraps.”

  She gazed at him steadily, trying to read his meaning beyond the words.

  “I just punched through the wall and into the sewer. It was tough, but… I'm here, right?”

  “Oh geez… Jus' how strong are you?” he asked, the smile disappearing.

  “I can put my hands through CS Armor like tearing paper.”

  Ouch. Han was visibly impressed. “You sure you don' wanna talk about Atlantis…?”

  Makoto averted her eyes as Han sought them. She said nothing.

  “Okay, forget it. I wouldn't push ya, even if I could.”

  Abruptly, Makoto's expression became sorrowful, and looked to promote tears. Han immediately felt bad for speaking, even though he wasn't sure what had set her off. She made not so much as a single sniffle, but he knew she was torn up inside. Tough girls rarely, rarely ever cried, he reasoned. Never, in front of others. He just gazed at her, a powerful ache in his soul for her as she set the chopsticks beside her empty plate to cover her tear streaked face with her hands as her shoulders began to jolt with the forthcoming wash of pain. This ache, its presence was sudden, but immovable. How to deal with her pain, he did not know. All he knew was to be silent. He had learned that from Astin. She had been very clear about that.

  ‘You don't talk when a girl is shedding tears,’ she had said. Shedding tears. She actually said that.

  And why exactly this powerhouse of a girl burst into tears around him puzzled him even further, but he wasn't exactly insensitive. He rose, and walked around the table, nearing her side. Folding her arms across her stomach and bowing her head, she refused him, bravely shouldering her own agony, though somewhat foolishly so. His offer was the first, and while sincere and worthy of honour, her hesitance was understandable.

  “Han…?” an emotion choked voice whispered. Han snapped back into reality. He was with Makoto, not Astin. She was still crying softly, so Han did not say anything.

  “Hanlan?” The heaving of her sobbing trailed to a close.

  “Yes Mako?” Han said, voice also hushed cautiously.

  “You're not…” she hesitated for a half-instant, “involved, are you?”

  He blinked at the question. “Uh, no,” he replied uncertainly. “Listen babe, you okay? Can I ask why you were crying like that? If it was something I said…”

  Makoto shook her head silently, and gazed up at him, red eyed and so very vulnerable. The contrast startled him. With a not much more than a thought she could have killed him, yet at this moment she appeared as fragile as thin glass. He could make no claim in understanding her. Silently, he grasped her hand, and gently drew her to her feet, and into his finely muscled arms. His mouth opened, worked as if to speak, and issued nothing forth.

  “Oh blasted hell…” He took her chin in his hand and kissed her softly.

  “Han… I don't…” Makoto looked down for a moment after their lips parted. “I can't.”

  He nodded slightly, sensing only afterward that his advance had been ill-timed. She stepped back from him, and not so much as sat but crumbled into a nearby patchwork recliner.

  “That's cool, babe. If maybe you just want to take it easy, I'm gonna hit the couch, okay? I'm beat.”

  She watched him rise, and leave without so much as a lingering glance. He did smile at her before flopping on the aforementioned furnishing, and there was a trace of disappointment. Yet, he hadn't insisted, not even arguing a single wit. Some hours later, after much thought, and prayer, she joined him, leaving the pieces of her fuku in a trail to the couch.

  Chapter 5

  A Sailor's Tale