A Sailor Moon Story by Victor Naqvi.

-Well folks, it's been a long wile since I last wrote something, so
here goes.  This story is actually based on the famous crater scene
from Lewis Milestone's All Quiet on the Western Front, a movie about
young German soldiers who quickly become disillusioned with the First
World War.  I hope you enjoy it.  Mail me with
comments/criticism/flames/cheques or money orders to
vnaqvi@hotmail.com

Thanks go out to:

Laura Hudson:  She's one of the reasons that we should have a fanfic
writer hall of fame somewhere. Not only is she an EXCELLENT writer
(read Liberating the Water and Ripples to find out why), but she is a
very good conversationalist.  I'm honored to know her.

Jon Carp:  Yes, I must thank the Big Fish.  He's been a very fun guy
to talk to, and his Secondary Characters series is one of his finest
ever.  He's also the guy that makes #Moonscribe a FUN place to visit.

Levar Buoyer:  Well, just for the fact that he's a very good fanfic
writer.  His Sailor Jupiter Question mini-fanfic was amazing: it
actually made me laugh.  

Well, enough talk.  On with the show!

All Quiet on the Terran Front 

     "You still think it's beautiful and sweet to die for your
country.  We thought you knew.  But the first bombardment taught us
better.  It's painful and dirty to die for your country.
     "You know what he says to you?  He says, 'go out and die'!  But
if you'll excuse me, it's easier to say go out and die than it is to
do it."
     "COWARD!"
     "And it's easier to say it- than to watch it happen." 
-All Quiet on the Western Front

     "Don't you think it's a little too risky for R&R?"
     "If I say it's safe to surf this beach, Captain, then it's safe
to surf this beach!  Who's not gonna surf this beach?  I've gotta
right to surf this fucking place!"
     -Apocalypse Now




     For years, I had successfully shut myself off from the rest of
the world.  I had to; I was a general.  I always had to keep myself a
step above all others; untouchable.  If I ever brought myself
down to the level of my men, my soldiers, people would see the hole in
me that I have tried so hard to cover up.  There was only me, my
peers, the Prince, and Serenity.  No more.
     Then God, why did it have to happen, now.  To me.

     The day was bitter, and the air was sickengly humid and thick.  A
fog had settled over the ground before the castle. It was a day of
war.
     The sounds of battle echoed up to the ramparts from where me and
my fellow generals watched men- our men- die.  The others were
watching with calculated coldness, a sort of detached thinking from
their emotions as they observed them fall and scream.  It was
something I was expected to do, but never would allow myself fully to. 
I hated the others for it.
     "Damnit," I said, shrugging on my tunic.  "I'm going down there."
     Kunzite turned his head away from the battle and looked at me
with something that resembled disgust in his cold, steel eyes.
Generals don't fight."
     "Like hell they don't."  I didn't want to get into another
arguement with the man, so I bounded town the steps.  As I did, I
thought I caught Nephrite shaking his head out of the corner of my
eye.
     They wouldn't understand.  Maybe they once did, but I can see
that whatever shred of humanity they once possesed had been eaten
away.  I was the only one who resisted.  I guess I'm going to snap one
day from it.
     "Nice to see you down here, General!" a soldier called from the
castle gates.  He was young, clean cut, eager to charge into battle. 
I gave him a nod and a hint of a smile.
     He seemed a bit surprised, I guess because he wasn't used to
people of such high rank even acknowledging his existence.  "Should I
summon your mount, sir?"
     "That won't be neccessary."  Already I was regretting the smile I
gave him; the poor fool will probably die in the next hour.  
     That's the problem with getting to know your men; it's absolutely
pointless to.  One moment you shake his hand and the next, you're
reading his epitaph.  Perhaps the others had the right idea, but I
didn't want to dwell on that now.  I decided to head to the front as
quickly as possible.

     Shouts and screams and battle cries came from all directions. 
Blood flew in dazzling arcs across an azure sky; metal clanged against
metal in savage swordplay.
     I led my troops into the heart of Beryl's army, and we played and
mingled with death.  Young, brave fools threw themselves at arrows and
slings intended for me.  I wasn't supposed to care.  I was supposed to
push on.
     I swung my sword this way and that, staning my tunic with Dark
Kingdom blood;  I carved a path for my men to follow.  
     I guess I was caught up in my lust for blood, because I didn't
notice the hand jerk up from a blast crater I jumped across.  The hand
pulled me down along with my foot into the hole, and another hand,
carrying a knife, plunged deep into my chest.  It withdrew and struck
again, finding a home in several other places.  I screamed and looked
at my assaliant.
     It was a young boy, not much older than seventeen, I'd say.  He
was wearing a Dark Kingdom uniform, bloodied and dirtied from hiding
in the crater.  He looked up at me with wild eyes, and I could see it-
the fear in them.
     He jerked away suddenly, and he put a hand to his mouth as he
keeled over and retched horribly.  He looked up again, looked at his
hands, which were now stained with my life fluid.  Now in a state of
hysteria, he dipped his hands into the small puddle of muddy water at
the bottom of the crater and began to frantically wash his hands,
whimpereing.  His eyes were still focused intently on me.
     I felt a pang of pity.  The first I felt for a long, long time.
     I shifted my weight, but the cuts gave me a painful reminder that
they were still there.  I was light of breath, and everything began to
go fuzzy around the edges of my vision.  I couldn't belive that I was
dying.
     The boy had stopped washing his hands, which were red and raw
from the ferocious rubbing he did, and now was slowly inching his way
towards me.  I was in no shape to stop him; my hands were busy
pressing against my wounds.  I felt the air slowly hissing from my
lungs with each laboured breath.
     In a moment he was next to me.  His hand, trembling, reached out
to touch my shoulder, and slowly stroke it.  "I want to help you," he
said.  "I want to help you."  He looked at me, then at the puddle.  He
shaped his hands into a cup, then dipped them into the brown water. 
He raised them and brought it to my mouth.
     What choice did I have?  I sit here and refuse the drink?  And
die?  Any of the others, Zoicite, Nephrite, Kunzite.  They would have. 
But not me.  Was that my failing?  I sipped the dirty water.
     Satisfied for the moment, he wiped his hands dry on his uniform
and backed away slowly.  He sat down on the opposite end of the
crater, and huddled his knees together, all the while looking
at me.
     Time passed slowly.  I heard more men die.  I drifted to
unconsciousness.

     My eyes snapped open.  It was dark.
     The battle had continued on into the night.  The perpetual sounds
of war echoed into my eardrums, amplified a thousandfold by the
searing pain in my chest.  Overhead, streaks of orange light that
momentarily lit up the battleground signified that Greek fire was
being hurled at the ramparts of Endymion's castle.  Soldiers, both our
own and the enemy, ignored us as they jumped over the crater and
clashed with each other.
     The boy was still there, looking at me.
     He could have left at any time after I passed out.  But he stayed
and watched over me.
     It was the guilt,  I knew.  He was such a young man; not much
older than me, in fact.  It was likely that this was the first war he
had ever fought in.  Torn away from his family, no doubt, and forced
to fight _Beryl's_ war.  For what _she_ wanted.
     I felt that pang again.  Compassion.
     The others would have killed me.
     The battle continued.  I wandered from the world of the living
yet again.

     I awoke again.  The battle still raged, it's fires being
constantly stoked with the bodies of more and more young men.  I-
     STOP IT! I commanded myself.  My muscles had tensed up again,
renewing the pain in my chest as the clotting split open.  I began to
moan.
     The boy covered his ears, but he still could not completely block
out my agony.  
     He threw his hands down to his sides.  "STOP IT!" he commanded 
"I CAN'T LISTEN TO THAT!"
     He crawled closer, his face twisted into a look of rage.  "Why do
you take so long dying. YOU'RE GOING TO DIE ANYWAY!" he screamed.
     I was shocked, although I had no reason to be.  I could feel my
breath shorten to quick gasps and the pounding in my chest get faster.
     Almost immediately after his outburst, the look on him changed to
one of complete sadness. Again he went to my side and touched my
shoulder.  "No.  You're not going to die.  You'll get better, you'll
see.
     "You'll get home.  You'll get home long before I will."  I saw
the tears begin to stream down his face.
     I couldn't take it any longer.  My heart was now for him; I
didn't see any use of it for myself any more.  I gave him the best
smile I could manage, a real smile.  "Go, son," I told him.  "I'll be
fine."
     He looked as if a great weight had been thrown off his shoulders
by some divine hand.  He backed away, and said a sincere "thank you"
before scrambling up to the top of the crater.
     I leaned back and sighed.
     A scream pieced through the air, a thousand times louder than any
swordplay, than any other battle cry on the field.  A body fell into
the crater and landed into my lap, an arrow sticking out of its chest. 
The head rolled over and looked at me.
     It was him.
     With his last ounce of energy, he shifted his expression from one
of horror- to one of blame.
     He blamed me for his death.
     And then he was gone.
     No.
     I cradled him in my arms, pressed my forehead against his, and
cried.

     I awoke to a quiet, damp morning.
     The fog had prevailed throughout the night, and droplets of
moisture clung to our bodies, making my skin feel clammy, like a dead
man.
     Like the man on me.
     I tried to push him off, but my muscles refused to budge, so I
remained where I was and waited for a med team.
     They came an hour later, picking up the pieces of the bloody war
that were still alive.  One of the few soldiers that were still able
to walk spotted me in the crater and called for help.  They came down
and pulled the boy off of me.  They placed me on a makeshift wooden
stretcher and carried me back to the castle, into sickbay.  On the
way, I heard the others whisper:
     "...took the arrow and plunged it right into the bastard's
heart..."
     "...he was wounded, too!"
     "...hope I'm brave enough to do that someday..."

     They were all there, in sickbay.  The Queen, too, along with
Sailor Mercury.  Mercury took a quick look at my wounds, then
concluded that they didn't puncture any of my vital organs.  The
Queen nodded at this.  "I congratulate you, General Jedite, for such
an act of bravery and courage in the face of death.  I will see to it
that a deceration ceremony is scheduled for you and your men, where
you shall recieve the Medal of Serenity."  She turned stiffly, and
marched out of the infirmary with her guards and Mercury.  After a
moment, the Prince followed her hesitantly after throwing and uneasy
and apologetic glance back at me. 
     Kunzite told me what he had last morning.  "Generals don't
fight."  He walked away.  Nephrite shook his head again and did the
same.
     Zoicite made as if to follow them, but turned back and stood at
my side.  It was a long time before any of us spoke.  It was him who
did first.  "Bravery.  What does she know about bravery."
     "He was just a boy..."
     "You didn't kill him, did you?"
     I shook my head.
     Another silence.
     "Is there something worng with me?"
     Zoicite looked puzzled.  "What do you mean?
     "I don't want to kill.  I don't want to see my men die so
pointlessly.  I don't want to watch young men throw away their lives
just because we tell them to. I-"
     "Look, let me tell you a story."  Zoicite knelt beside me now,
and ran a finger across my wounds, testing the pressure points and
observing my reaction.  "There was this general that served here when
the war with Beryl began.  He used to be just like you, in fact.  He
became attached to the soldiers under his command.  It got to the
point that he started bringing them gifts and gave them rewards for
even little things that they did.  He was to his men like a mother to
a child.  He wanted to care for them, protect them."  He removed his
finger and stared into my eyes.  "One day, one of his men died.  Died
while fighting Beryl's army; he was run through.
     "The general went mad.  He went to Queen Serenity and protested
that they stop fighting this war and try to reach some sort of
agreement with the enemy.  But the Queen remained adamant. She said
that she would push on, no matter what the cost.  The Moon Kingdom had
to be protected from Beryl's forces, at any price.
     "And so the general watched more of his soldiers die.  The men
that he so well knew, were dissapearing all around him.  Soon all the
men under his command were dead, but they were replaced with new ones. 
Those died, and those were replaced by even more."
     "What happened to him?" I asked.
     "He didn't care any more.  Like a dog that has been beaten too
many times; it just didn't care any more."  Quite suddenly, he got up
and walked away.
     "Wait!  This general...  what was his name?"
     He paused for a second.  "Zoicite."  He left the infirmary.
     "Zoicite..."
     That's not going to happen to me.
     I'm sick of killing.  I'm sick of the Queen.  I'm sick of the
Moon Kingdom.
     I don't want to fight anymore.  And I won't.

                                   ***
                                    
  The next morning, Jedite left the infirmary and went to Beryl's
army, to attempt to try to come to some sort of truce, if only for a
couple of days.
     He never came back.
     Beryl captured him, and brainwashed him.  With his aid, she
captured Endymion's castle and brainwashed the other three generals to
serve with her.  She had conquered the Golden Kingdom.
     A month later, Queen Serenity and the Moon Kingdom fell.