Fall, 2006 A nondescript brown-haired young man walks into the office at the corner of 5th Avenue and East 71st street, stopping at the reception desk. `Hello,' the young asian woman behind it greets him. `Hello,' he replies, absently reading the nameplate in front of her, "Takaya Noriko." `I was sent to find out about parenting classes for the differently abled,' he starts. `Mobility impaired?' Noriko asks, scanning the rack of pamphlets on the side of her desk. `Enhanced,' he says softly. `Oh,' Noriko smiles, `In that case I'll pass you to Kazumi, and she'll do the initial interview -- we've had problems with government and private agents trying to infiltrate our classes, so we're a little cautious about new people.' `That's good. I'm actually here for my granddaughter and her partner, who are expecting,' he smiles. `Congratulations,' Noriko smiles back, `You look very young to be a great-grandfather, Mister . . . ' `Parker, Peter Parker,' he says, `I've looked about like this since 1960.' `I was born in 1999, was on active duty with the U.N. Spacy from 2016 to 2069, and arrived in this solar system in 1987,' -*- 1987 March 10 Magenta 4957 looks up from her Barbara Wilson mystery at the beep from the FTL monitor. She blinks, `Chief!' `What is it, Marilyn?' Teal 1594 asks. `FTL dropout, speed point five see and slowing, inbound to Earth,' Marilyn replies, `Mass . . . currently unknown, but the dropsig says corvette or smaller.' `Miki,' Teal turns to the commo officer on duty, `Who's on shift for intercept?' Umber 3365 replies, tapping at her keyboard, `Omega, they're shaddowed by the moon, but we'll have contact in . . . thirty seconds.' `Good. Marilyn?' `.4C, still no vislight, two humanoid life signals.' `Cthulu, or human, or?' `Cthulu or human, almost certainly.' `IFF from Omega,' Miki says. `Good, open comms,' at Miki's nod Teal continues, `Iczer Omega, this is Tactical.' `Tac, this is Omega,' Iczer Two answers. `Unknown FTL dropout, currently decelerating, human or Cthulu lifesigs.' `Intercept laid in,' Kasuga Akane, Iczer Omega's copilot, replies. `Be safe,' Teal orders, `but try not to kill them.' `Gotcha, Megumi,' Iczer Two acknowleges, giving no indication if she recognized the teasing. `Omega should reach the object at Gamma line,' Marilyn says, refering to the defensive sphere at four times Lunar orbit. Gamma line is still understrength, just a few hundred command-detonated mines, backed by the Cthulu worldship at L3 and her six giant robots. `First vislight is in,' Marilyn puts it up on the main monitor, relaying it to Omega at the same time. On the screen is a badly battered giant robot, missing both legs, the shattered remnants of its spine protruding from beneath its shattered chest armor, both arms amputated above the elbow. `Height is approximately fifty meters. mass approximately five kilotons. Inertial dampers and some sort of jetless drive are functional, but it is leaking air and fluids.' `What kind?' Megumi asks. `Hydraulic, or something very similar,' Marilyn bites her lip, `Speed down to .15C, two minutes to Gamma line.' `I've got radio signals,' Akane says, `FM, channel hopping, encrypted, encoded, or both.' `Patching your intercepts to Big Gold,' Miki says. `It is an audiovisual signal, I've separated the audio and video tracks, but I . . . there it is,' Big Gold's girlish soprano states. On the screen a young woman appears, her tight uniform ripped at her left breast, but pinned shuts, `U.N. Spacey Earth Control, this Takaya Noriko, Gunbuster, Pilot. Amano Kazumi is my copilot,' she says in accented but clear English. `Gunbuster, this is Iczer Omega. I'm Kasuga Akane, copilot,' Akane replies in Japanese. `.08C, one minute to Gamma.' `Omega, can you patch us to Earth Control?' an older woman comes onscreen to ask. `We are of the Cthulu Militia, working in coordination with the Earth Defence Force. There is no U.N. Spacey or Earth Control. We will escort you to drydock at L3,' Iczer Two says. There is a long pause. `Four minutes to Delta line. One million kilometers per second.' `We will accept your hospitality, Kasuga-san,' Noriko replies, finally. `Thank you, Takaya-san,' Akane replies. -*- `I was bitten by a spider at a nuclear science demonstration,' Peter says, then touches his finger to the top of Noriko's nameplate and lifts it from the desk. `1960,' Noriko smiles, `I guess that's how you get all of those Spiderman pictures.' `Those pictures have been good camoflage, too.' -*- 1962 June 27 A black-clad Spiderman listens to the transmitter he'd dropped in J. Jonah Jamison's pocket. `So, you know who Spiderman is?' Jamison asks. `Yes,' said the woman who had introduced herself as Mesmo, when they fought earlier in the week. Spiderman's fingers clench. `Who is he?' `Peter Parker, your freelance photographer.' `Impossible. There is no way Parker could be that competent.' Spiderman smiles at the backhanded complement, but Mesmo's next words wipe the smile from his face. `Recognize her?' `Betty?' Jamison's voice is shaking, `What did you do to her?' `I shot her. She died quick-' Mesmo's words are cut off by shattering glass. Spiderman hits her solidly with both feet, falling from the skylight three stories overhead. The impact shatters bones and drives splinters into her lungs. He ignores Jamison and the broken woman gurgling behind him as he feels for a pulse, even though the blood from the exit wound on her belly is dark and barely sticky, almost entirely dry, not staining the white sheet pooled on the floor where he dropped it. `She's dead,' he says, walking over Mesmo to Jamison, almost casually stepping on her throat on the way, crushing her trachea, `Call the cops, Jamison.' Jamison only nods miserably, in shock over his receptionist's death. Spiderman shoots a line of webbing up next to the skylight, and swarms out. Mesmo claws at her throat, bloody froth dribbling from her mouth. -*- Peter shudders, blinking hard to shove the flashback out, `You were in those Dark Kingdom publicity shots, early '90s, weren't you?' `Yes, we were,' Takaya Kazumi says from the doorway, `The Cthulu rebuilt Gunbuster, and we worked with them and the EDF for a number of years.' -*- 1993 April 16 `Noriko, Kazumi, Gunbuster, Ikimasu!' Noriko says, smiling, then punches the code that triggers the magnetic catapult. The inertial canceler prevents any feeling of motion as the launch tube flashes past, then Gunbuster is free, boosting towards her patrol orbit. EDF funding and Lunar mining, along with canabalizing two of the mobile fortresses, have finally boosted the Cthulu forces to fourteen giant robots. Gamma line has been fully mined with single-shot gamma-ray lasers built from American and Soviet nulcear weapons' cores. Noriko lets a hand drift to her belly, pondering. The publicity shots were easy, a little posing, a few pictures, that utterly vivacious young blonde Japanese girl. Her consorts. The tiny little girl with the shotgun. The tiny little girl who was nearly three hundred years old. Who was Usagi and Rei's daughter. Noriko's smile goes a little crooked at the warm feeling the thought, just the thought, of carrying her and Kazumi's child beneath her heart engenders. `Noriko,' Kazumi gushes over the intercom, `It's funny, I can't stop thinking about it. Captain General Tsukino makes me kinda jealous.' `Why?' Noriko can't help a tiny bit of longing leak into her voice. `I've always kind of wanted a child, but the thought of _our_ child,' Kazumi sighs, `This isn't the place for this conversation.' `Maybe not, but,' Noriko smiles, `Do you want to carry her, or shall I?' `Mmmf,' Kazumi squeaks, `What? You . . . ' `I've loved you since the first time I laid eyes on you, over twenty thousand years ago, I just didn't think,' Noriko boosts a moment, shifting Gunbuster's orbit, `When I met you, when Coachi trained me, molded me into someone I could respect, that you would ever love me as much as I love you.' `And Jung-Freud?' `She believed. That's why she sent you with me. I hope she made it through O.K., and found herself new, someone who wasn't pining over a woman she never believed she'd be good enough for.' `So you were lovers?' `Yes. It wasn't fair of me, but I thought I'd never see you again, and I should try to move on. It didn't work very well, but,' Noriko shrugs. `You gave up on -- she is, was, will be, whatever, so much prettier than me--' `Never more beautiful,' Noriko interupts. `Bustier, younger, with that curly red hair--' `Dye,' Noriko laughs, `and she'd spend hours every week curling it. She is so vain, I loved teasing her about it.' `And I look so much older than you now.' `Only fifteen years, and if that bother you so, I could look older, or you younger, with only a day or so in a tank.' `I was jealous, you know, when we first met her, that's why we had that fight.' `Jealous? How?' `About you -- I'd never seen you look at anyone like you looked at her.' `Really?' Noriko laughs, spins Gunbuster in a pirouette, `Jung-Freud said you were, but I just laughed. I guess you weren't watching when I met you.' ~*~ Kazumi stops next to the desk, leans down and gives Noriko a quick kiss, then turns back to Peter, `So you need a parenting class for people with extrahuman abilities?' `No, we muddled through somehow with Mike, and Mary's also normal, but my granddaughter isn't as lucky.' ~*~ 1966 August 2 `I'm sterile,' Peter tells the adoption agent, Mary Jane's hand clutched tightly in his own, `Something we figured out after a couple years of trying.' `Do you have any preferences?' `Quiet, self-contained, able to keep a secret for a while -- until JJJ publishes, generally.' `That's right, you're a photographer, aren't you?' `Yes, not rich, but we're well enough off. It isn't that anyone would get in trouble, but Mr. Jamison would have a fit and fire me again.' "and I'll have another crying jag in the office," he doesn't say. `Age, sex?' the agent asks. `No,' Mary Jane answers. `I'll get back to you.' * 1966 August 17 `We still don't have any appropriate leads,' the agent says, appologetically. `What about inappropriate ones?' Mary Jane asks. `You wouldn't want this kid.' `Oh?' Peter asks. `He's eleven, from a poor family, and has a real chip on his shoulder.' `Could we meet him?' The agent looks at them carefully, then nods, `His name's Mike Harding, and he's staying . . . ' * Mary Jane and Peter walk up the subway stairs, onto the streets of Harlem, the looks they receive are more curious than hostile, but a quick glance shows them to be two of the three whites in view. Peter consults the card with directions and address, `Two blocks up, one over.' Mary Jane bumps his shoulder with hers, and they step off. * `Ms. Fields?' Peter greets the older black woman who opens the peeling door. `That's me. Can I help you with anything?' `Mister Smith at the Metropolitan Adoption Agency sent us to meet Mike.' `You know that my foster son is black, don't you?' `I guessed from the address,' Mary Jane says, and Peter nods. `Then you can come in.' Mike is a slight, studious boy with skin the deep brown of the tables at the New York Public Library. A mostly healed bruise on one cheek and skinned knuckles contrast with the quiet way he holds himself, and the page of math he's working. `Mike, these are Peter Parker, and his wife Mary Jane.' Peter holds out his hand, and Mike gravely shakes it. `Pleased to meet you,' Mike greets. `Likewise,' says Peter. ~*~ `MJ and I adopted Mike in '66, when he was eleven and prejudices were a lot stronger, but we managed to provide him a good home.' `Our daughters are going to be thirteen soon, so I know that was an interesting time to come into a child's life.' `As I said, we muddled through,' Peter smiles, his unlined cheeks dimpling. *Ding* the entrance alarm rings. A short Japanese man in a black tailcoat and black jeans walks in, nods as he walks past them to the coffee machine, and pours himself a cup, `Hello, I'm Kenji Matsumoto, Special Agent for Manhattan,' he sets his coffee cup down and holds out his hand. `Peter Parker. My granddaughter and her partner are expecting, so they sent me to enquire about parenting classes.' `Granddaughter, huh? You don't seem old enough.' `Kenji, bring him over to a camera, please,' a female voice says from the vicinity of Kenji's matte black earing. Kenji blinks, `If you would be so kind,' he asks Peter, who follows him through a door into the back area. The lights come on as they open a door labeled "Conference Room". Peter takes the indicated seat, and Kenji slouches against the table, sipping his coffee. The multi-lensed camera that wheels itself over easily draws Peter's attention, and he examines it almost as intensely as it does him. `That's fascinating,' the female voice from earlier says, from the camera unit this time, `You initiated a partial transformation a long time ago, and haven't released it since.' `I was bitten by a spider at a Nuclear Studies demo, back in '59. I think it had been irradiated, and that induced some mutation in me. I was sick for weeks, and thought I was going to die.' `A normal person would have. Your Sailor powers partially manifested, saving your life.' `Sailor powers?' Peter asks, `But I'm a guy.' Three women appear in a shimmer of light, then drop hands before dropping their transformations as well. `Arachne?' The black cat asks. `Luna?' Peter asks, confused by the way he recognizes the cat, and the ready acceptance of the way she had been a much more massive young woman moments earlier. `Arachne,' the short woman with blue hair confirms. Luna twists herself, pushing an object out of a place that isn't there, `Go on, pick it up,' she says. Peter picks up the glossy black and white rod, then whispers the suddenly familiar words, `Arachne Cosmic . . . ' A swirl of darkness and spiderwebs, and a tall, not very busty, woman is standing in Peter's place, white Sailor Senshi uniform accented in black, jewelry all in black chrome with black stones, pale grey spiderweb patterns marking the body of the costume, the long black gloves and low-heeled combat-style boots. `That's cool,' Sailor Arachne says, looking at her gloves, `Haven't worn black in a long time.' ~*~ 1962 June 27 Peter sets down his embroidery, stabbing the needle into the black fabric, looping the white thread before dropping the whole into the basket and closing the lid. `Betty?' he calls, hoping she'd just forgotten her keys. It isn't Betty at the door. `Mr. Jamison?' `Parker, have you seen your wife today?' `She left about eight to catch the 8:15.' `She never arrived at work.' `She'd never failed to call before, and I couldn't find your number, and I couldn't get anything done all day, so I'm here.' Peter looks over JJJ's shoulder into the gathering gloom, and feels his fears redouble, `I'm going to call the cops, and you should go home, Mr. Jamison,' he says, patting the older man on the shoulder and dropping a transmitter into his pocket. JJJ nods, still worried, but walks back towards the subway. Peter locks the appartment door and grabs up the phone, dialing the police from memory, `Hello, I'd like to report a missing person . . . about twelve hours . . . can you tell me if she's in custody . . . thank you,' not at all reassured, he starts calling hospitals, phone tucked between shoulder and and ear as his careful orb-web pattern stitches dissolve into tangles. Twenty minutes later he hangs up the phone again, stabbing the needle into his leg in his haste to stand. He rubs it lightly as he checks the radio beacon on Jamison. It is in the wrong direction for Jamison's house, and his spider-sense twinges almost hard enough to drop him to his knees. He's out of his street clothes and almost all the way into the black costume Betty designed for him before he remembers to snip the thread and remove the embroidery frame. ~*~ Arachne blinks shining eyes, takes another look at her form in the mirror on the west wall, then drops her transformation, mildly surprised to go back to being Peter Parker, the friendly neighborhood Spider Man. He hefts the table with his fingertips, nods, then turns to the Sailors and cat, `So, now what?' `I'm headed back to Tokyo, and one of Triguna's girls will come out with Vulcan and Minerva, who will be on hand to help with any an acclimatization issues you may encounter,' Ami says, closing her computer and standing. Peter nods, `It shouldn't be as difficult as last time.' `When was last time?' Kazumi asks. `1960, mostly. I spend the last few weeks of fifty nine sick as a dog, then it took me a long time to adapt to my new . . . status.' `Minerva and Vulcan made a similar transition, they were minor magical girls before they became Sailors.' `Oh.' `Have your granddaughter call this number, it's my cell, and we'll schedule an interview and classes,' Kazumi says, handing Peter a card. `I will.' ~*~ 1987 March 10 Cthulu tugs join Iczer Omega in towing the wreckage aboard and locking it down. Once the hatch fully seals the dock floods with air, and Omega's pilots phase out of it. `That's so cool!' Noriko gushes over the intercom. `It is,' Akane agrees, `This is Iczer Two, my partner,' she introduces the tall red haired woman at her side. `Any relation?' Kazumi asks, a smile in her voice. `Iczer Omega is, in a sense, my sister,' Iczer Two says, `One and Three are more closely related.' `That is not something you often hear her admit,' a new voice says. Two more people are floating near the door, a tall blonde with a distinct family resemblence to Iczer Two, and a slightly shorter Japanese woman. `Nagisa,' Akane chides gently. The Japanese woman sticks out her tongue, then smiles. `Iczer One,' the blonde introduces herself, `And this lout is my partner, Kano Nagisa.' `Pleased,' Noriko says from her place on Gunbuster's shoulder. Kazumi joins her after a moment, then takes Noriko's hand and they jump down, drifting easily in the weightless environment. ~*~ `MJ?' Peter calls, closing and locking the door behind him. `Pete? What happened today?' `Discovered something amusing.' `Oh, what's that?' the thirtyish redhaired woman asks her late teenaged husband. `I'm not one in several billion, but only one in a hundred and twenty million or so,' he smiles, holding out his transformation rod. `What do you--' she cuts herself off, looking at the object in his hand, `No.' `Partial transformation brought on by the spider bite. Want to see the full monty?' Mary Jane blinks, touches a finger to her lips, `Yes.' `Arachne Cosmic Power, MAKE UP!' the whispered words resonate through the room, then a flare of darkness and grey webbing clears. `Oh,' Mary Jane laces her fingers together, `You make a very attractive girl, Pete.' `Do I?' Arachne smiles and steps closer. `Yes you do, Peter Parker.' `Sailor Arachne, like this.' `Arachne, then,' Mary Jane takes the last step, wraps her arms around Arachne, and kisses her soundly. Arachne's hands slip over a familiar jean-clad butt. `How do we get you out of this getup, Pe-- Arachne?' `I can go back to being Peter, or we can peel, I think.' `Come on, come on,' Mary Jane drags the unprotesting woman towards the bedroom. Boots and gloves come off fairly easily, but the uniform is more resistant. `Come on,' Mary Jane whimpers, feeling along the sailor collar for a fastener. Arachne helps her out of her shirt, `We can work around it for tonight, perhaps?' `But I want . . . ' Mary Jane trails off at Arachne's familiar, skillful carresses. * `Peter!' Mary Jane yells early the next morning. Peter, somewhat bemused to wake up naked and female, throws on a shirt and boxers, `What is it?' `Come look!' Peter slouches in the bathroom doorway, `Yes,' she asks. `You're still a girl,' Mary Jane says. `Apparently,' Peter nods, then gets a good look at Mary Jane, `And you're twenty four again.' `Why do you say that?' `Cause that's how old you were when we got involved.' `I'm sixty seven years old, Pete.' `And you've been aging very slowly since '65. It would be an affect of the Sailor magic, MJ.' `Why?' Mary Jane asks, taking a closer look at the unlined corners of her eyes. `An immortal fighter, or at least an unaging and hard to kill one, is much less effective if they are regularly in mourning over--' `Oh, yes,' Mary Jane blinks back tears, then turns and gathers her her husband in her arms. Mary Jane holds Peter's hand over the breakfast table, `I've never felt this way about a girl before, Pete.' `I'm sixty seven, too, MJ, we've been together for . . . fourty three years. A little something new,' she emphasizes little with a wave at her breasts, `Should be exciting.' `It was more than that, Pete,' Mary Jane says, a little worried, `I've never wanted you as much as I did last night, either.' Peter blinks, then blushes, `That would explain why I'm still female.' `What?' Peter grabs Mary Jane's hand and puts it on her belly. Mary Jane looks at the warm slab of rippling muscle under her fingers, `But you're . . . ' Peter smiles and nods. Mary Jane bursts into tears and tackle-hugs Peter, which leads to kissing on the kitchen floor, and their being late to meet up with the other Sailors. * `Saotome Ranma, Child Protective Services Special Agent for southeastern California,' the short red haired Japanese woman greets Peter and Mary Jane, bowing slightly. `Yukishiro Honoka,' the one with long black hair introduces herself. `Misumi Nagisa,' the last introduces herself. `Mary Jane Parker, and my husband, Peter.' `Husband?' Ranma asks, `What's your trigger?' `Trigger?' `For the gender switch.' `He may not know,' Megumi says, `His first transformation was yesterday.' `Ah,' Ranma pours a cup of hot water from the pot, touches it with a fingertip, then turns, `This was my trigger, but certain other magics messed with it, so I need to be very calm in order for it work,' she pours the water over her head, and her loose clothes are suddenly tight over his much larger frame. `Any excitement and I'm a girl again, or cold water, but it's nice to be a guy again occasionally,' Ranma smiles a crooked smile, `at least this way I'm fairly immune to accidental changes.' `Close your eyes and concentrate on the transformation you want,' Misumi says, shifting to a black outfit with pink highlights, a rediculously short skirt over bike shorts, then into a Sailor's uniform in powder blue and black, her P90 on her back again, white LBV with magazines over her bodysuit, `With me, it isn't just a change of costume and active magics, there are physical changes as well.' `What if I'm pregnant?' Peter asks. `That's unlikely, but possible since you bonded last night,' Yukishiro looks up from where she's polishing a smudge off her M2 Battle Rifle's white handguard, `If so, you won't be while you're male, or in Sailor form, so it will be difficult to figure your due date, but there shouldn't be any other problems,' she continues in her accented English. `OK,' Peter closes her eyes and shifts, slightly, features shifting and bodyfat relocating before he opens his eyes again. `That's neat,' Peter says, then shifts to female, then, after a pause, to full Sailor regalia, then to male again. * Spiderman sits, his feet flat, one hand against the ledge between his knees, three Sailors and Ranma next to him, `I just listen, wander around, look for trouble, and generally find it. I've bugged all the current hotspots, and most of the old ones. Couple of those bugs are older than you are. Solid state is just so easy to maintain, change the batteries, replace a transistor ocassionally.' `How do you process it?' Sailor Vulcan asks. `Caged a high-level expert system off a space alien, back in the late '70s. It sends me anything interesting.' `Ah,' Vulcan says, shifting the M2BR on her shoulder. `North end of Central Park, sounds like an armed robbery,' Spiderman stands, Sailor Discordia grabs his hand, and the others link up. They reappear and Spiderman swings off, the others following at a light run. `You'd think they'd learn,' Spiderman says, indicating the bundle of web wrapped crooks hanging from the lamppost nearby, `But they've gotten real good at running away, and if the vic doesn't press charges they walk. Attempted murder I bundle them, but murderers get a single chance to surrender, usually.' `Who?' Ranma asks, squeezing his shoulder. Spiderman looks at her, then nods, `Betty Parker. Nutjob calling herself Mesmo shot her in the back because she was on scene too often while I was in costume. She might have been guessing, but she tried to sell Parker to someone who had it in for me, and his wife paid the price.' `If Betty had . . . if she'd been alive, I'da been too busy trying to get her to a doctor, but . . . ' Spiderman trails off. `Betty was already cold. On my way out, I walked over Mesmo. She wouldn't have survived, even if I hadn't, I splintered her ribs into her lungs when I hit her from three stories up, but I hadn't been trying to kill her then. When I stepped on her throat, that was intentional.' Ranma rubs his shoulder, `Ain't lost anyone too close yet, but It's been a near thing, and I've killed people to stop it.' * `Teleportation is so nice,' Sailor Minerva smiles, `Pop, or not really a pop, and you're there.' Arachne nods. `The first few times, I had to call it, but once you've picked it up, it should be--' *flash* Minerva is cut off as Arachne vanishes, `Well, I guess she doesn't need that talk.' *flash* `I need to find a way to get these under my gloves,' Arachne fingers her webshooters, `I hate replacing them.' `You need a hole right about,' Vulcan fingers the middle of her wrist, `here?' `Um,' Arachne shifts, and peels off his glove, revealing a larger set of webshooters, `I've used these since that tournament thing in the early '80s.' `Tournament thing?' `An alien snatched up a bunch of us one fall, took us somewhere else, what did he call it,' he pauses, `"War World?" anyway, lotsa dead, everyone was fine again after we kicked the alien's ass and got rescued. `Speaking of that, how many of the others are Sailors?' `Other heros?' `Yep.' --- log: 3172 earlier: Chaplin brought a disk of the 1967 Spiderman cartoon out to the field. We were doing not much, so I got to spend almost all day watching his colection of stuff. The Spiderman raised questions about our nearly 70 year old friendly neighborhood Spiderman. 3172 later: Another field problem, more down time, paper-drafted on this. 3172/Confusion/38: typed in a lot of this. 3172/Bureaucracy/72: Typed in the last of my paper draft.