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CHAPTER SIXTY
NEVER HAD A FRIEND LIKE THIS

"I am Genever, the White Djinn, and I am here to deliver to you all a gift from the Sorcerer's World."

The stranger was humanoid in appearance, with pale white skin and glowing silver eyes. His white beard was long and full, and braided in a complicated and intriguing manner. A white keffiyah with silver trim covered his head, and he wore several layers of matching white-and-silver shirts, coats and robes.

"In recognition of your invaluable assistance to the Sorcerer's World, particularly in the matter of the recent War with the Analysts, I am here to grant you your hearts' desires."

"The First Coventry has already gifted us with a powerful mana-repelling spell," said Saturn Girl. "Twice. It has been invaluable in providing protection to our Clubhouse."

"I am aware of this," said the White Djinn. "It is because of it that peculiar spell that I am only able to appear to you in this form. Nevertheless, the First Coventry has commissioned me to grant to each of you, personally and individually, your hearts' desires."

"I've never even been to Sorcerer's World," said Mighty Lad.

"Nor I," said Korvea.

"Then you have been fortunate in your choice of friends," said the White Djinn, "For you are included in this gift."

"So just how many wishes do we each get?" asked Ffarrah.

"No wishing," the White Djinn explained. "Tonight you will dream; you will dream of your heart's desire. Perhaps you may not know, even now, what your heart's desire truly is. But tomorrow, I will return, and interview each of you. And if you tell me you are satisfied with your dream, this desire will be granted."

"This is really too much," said Saturn Girl. "Is there anything we can do for you, personally, in return? As you are a Djinn, I rather doubt it."

"But there is," said the White Djinn. "You can give me one of your coupons for Prospero's Pizza. I would like to surprise the old man."

CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
EIGHTEEN MONTHS INTO THE FUTURE
CHAMELEON AND THE TRIPLICATES
E PLURIBUS UNUM
"You wouldn't know how agonizing being triplets can be"
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UjW_yvrC0cE

Ffiona, Ffarrah, and Ffey Ffar were in a hurry to get to the hospital, so they were irritated to find a Daxamite Pirate dropping down from the sky right in front of them.

Res-Vir had gone almost completely gray. He wore a patch over his left eye, which the Triplicates considered must be an affectation. Certainly Daxam had the medical technology to regrow new eyes?

"Please, not now," said Ffey.

Res-Vir broke off a vial of greenish liquid from his belt.

"Your triple suns wreak havoc with my powers," he said, downing the serum. "I can feel the effects of my last dose weakening already."

"Then maybe you should go," said Ffiona.

"First, I will learn the secret of Cargggan triplication. Daxamite powers also come from the stellar radiation. We ought to be able to triplicate as well."

"Cargggans are triplicates because we were born under the triple suns," said Ffiona.

"Daxamite!" shouted a voice behind him. "Your replicas are here!"

A young Cargggan SP officer was standing between two more Res-Virs. In an instant, they rushed the Daxamite Pirate. One grabbed him in a headlock, and the three Res-Virs soared up into the atmosphere.

"Arona Ffolx," the SP officer introduced herself. "I'm a Meta. My duplicates can form themselves into doppelgangers of any living being near me."

There was distant thunder, and a shock-wave from high in the atmosphere. Officer Ffolx's duplicates descended with the original Res-Vir between them, unconscious.

"You may proceed, citizens," said Officer Ffolx. "I believe the Science Police have the situation under control."

The Triplicates hurried to the hospital.

"How is he, Doctor Wamu?" Ffey asked.

"It is astonishing," said Doctor Wamu. "It is beyond anything I have ever heard of. Come and see."

Chameleon was sealed inside a transparent medical tube. His form was that of a singlet male version of Ffiona, Ffarrah, and Ffey.

"He reads as perfectly Cargggan, down to the level of molecular DNA," said Doctor Wamu. "It has taken him three days, and he has been under my constant supervision, but it appears the experiment is a success." The doctor addressed Chameleon. "Are you ready for the Cancelite?"

"Yes, doctor," said Chameleon. The medical tube filled with a nearly colorless mist. After a few moments, the tube opened, and Chameleon rose from the table.

"Now for the final test," the doctor said.

Chameleon concentrated. This was not like shape-shifting, he had been told. The other two would be there. He could sense them. And then there were three.

"Does it always sting so bad the first time?" said one of the men.

"No one really would know," said Ffiona. "The first time any Cargggan triplicates is as an infant... although they usually do cry afterwards."

"But what should we call you?" asked Ffey.

"You can call us Ffameleon, Ffameleus, and Ffameleax," he said. "And now, Ffiona, Ffarrah, and Ffey Ffar, will you marry us?"

Three Cargggan women flew into the arms of three Cargggan men.

"But there's one thing," said Ffiona. "We were discussing this on the way over here. You know that, chronologically, we are only fourteen years old, although because of our living separately since we were eight, we appear physiologically thirty."

"Yes," said Ffameleon. "I am willing to accept accelerated aging, if it means I can spend that time with you."

"No, you don't understand," said Ffey. "If we are going to be together, we want it to last as long as possible. A hundred years, or more. We want to live as normal Cargggans, only triplicating occasionally."

"Only under certain very special circumstances," said Ffarrah.

Ffameleon fused back into one. The Triplicates did the same.

o o o

<Three days later>

It had not been hard at all to get everyone together.

"Ffameleon and Ffiona Ffar," said the minister. "I now pronounce you Husband and Wife."

CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
FIVE YEARS INTO THE FUTURE
COSMIC BOY AND LIGHTNING LASS
NO PLACE LIKE HOME
"Green Acres is the place to be."
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DrbPAt1_vc4

"Well, that was a bash," said Pol Krinn. "Early morning until late at night."

"It isn't every day our niece turns seven sola-years old," said Dacey.

Pol looked around their Winathan cottage. "Hard to believe we grew up here," he mused. "And now we're in charge."

"Oh, I'm sure our folks will have plenty to say about how things are run," said Darcey. "After they give us a chance to settle in. They haven't surrendered their shares."

"Oh, my folks are enjoying early retirement far too much to interfere," said Pol. "They have both always wanted to travel."

"Travel?" asked Dacey. "They keep themselves isolated in their private cottage all day, every day. Violet's party was the first time I've seen them in weeks."

"Don't you know?" said Pol. "Dad got access to an old Legion time-bubble. He keeps it in that shed in back. They're always in their cottage because they're resting up from their adventures-- in Space and Time. They return from their tourism only a few seconds after they left, so if you didn't know better, you would think they never go anywhere."

"Why don't I know this?" asked Dacey.

"Because you've been too busy arranging the sale of the Redfin property," said Pol. "Which I really appreciate. I'm not good at tough negotiation."

"And the Redfins grate on you," said Dacey. "Don't worry, they grate on me, too. Do you know what he told me the other day? That if he was running Lightning Ring Farms, he would cut down The Woods, and plow it under for more planting. I told him we're planning to expand The Woods to cover a quarter of his property as well. He thinks we're crazy."

"And that's the reason we're buying his property, and not vice versa," said Pol.

"And he's taking his androids with him," said Dacey. "Not part of the sale."

"I think we'll do OK without them," said Pol. "Lance is ten times as efficient as any non-sapient android. And has real loyalty, not just programmed obedience."

"Well, Davera is a real asset there, too," said Dacey. "Did you know they're constructing another child?"

"And both of their kids have expressed an interest in staying and working on Lightning Ring Farms," said Pol. "When they 'grow up'. We may need to buy another neighboring farm just to have enough land for them to work."

"And did you hear what Salu and Ayla said at the party?" asked Dacey.

"Oh, no. They're not thinking of having another baby at their age?" said Pol.

"Just thinking about it for now," said Dacey. "But yeah... Graym's boys would be older than the new baby. Dad would have grandsons years older than his new niece."

"Your folks aren't thinking of having more kids?" asked Pol. "The way things are going, we'll need to turn part of Lightning Ring Farms into a small city."

"Would that be such a bad thing?" asked Dacey. "Build a few apartment buildings. Become benevolent landlords."

"And have to count out the rent every month? I have enough trouble with collections as it is," said Pol. "All our deliveries are supposed to be C.O.D., but it never seems to work out that way. I do miss Dad's help in bookkeeping. He had a real talent for the financial side of the business."

"So let's hire an accountant," said Dacey. "We can afford it. Make them an offer-- their choice-- salary or shares."

"Dad would be offended," said Pol. "He'd call it a waste of money."

"Oh, he'll go along. You should talk to him anyway," said Dacey. "Our folks developed quite a network of contacts, both when they were in the Legion and later."

"Well, Dad did tell me," mused Pol, "About an applicant back at the beginning of the Legion who called himself 'Calcu-Lad'."

"It's getting late," said Dacey. "Let's sleep on it."

"Best offer I've had all day," said Pol.

CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
FIVE YEARS INTO THE FUTURE
MATTER-EATER LAD TWO AND POLAR LASS
THE RESCUER
"A kingdom of isolation"
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BS0T8Cd4UhA&ab_channel=DisneyMusicVEVO

Kalorus iss a giant water-world, but so close to its stellar primary that the temperature at the equator was above the boiling point. Near the equator, walls of steam and water vapour rise high into the atmosphere, cooling and then falling as rain into the northern and southern oceans ten thousand miles away. In these more distant parts of the oceans, a vast array of life has evolved and flourished.

There are two small, sandy continents at the poles.

At the south polar region, the temperatures are merely tropical. Tide pools flourish. In the thirty-first century, plant and proto-amphibian life are evolving, and just beginning to spread onto land.

At the moment, the center of the northern continent is covered in a thousand meters of ice.

The Coluan ship hovered above the giant glacier. A narrow beam of energy was melting a hole in the ice. Shortly, Hillarie Norgay descended on a lighted pedestal through the melted hole down to the frozen, sandy surface of Kalorus beneath.

The source maintaining the anomalous glacier was there, trapped deep beneath in the ice sheets. Hillarie took out a small torch, excavated an icy opening, and inserted a medical patch. He waited.

The ice in the small chamber began to melt. A few hundred miles away, at the continent's edge, ice also began to melt.

Kylda Skye Zimm of Tharr staggered out of the frozen sarcophagus.

"How long has it been, Matty?" she asked.

Hillarie took her in his arms. "Polly," he whispered. "A little over two years. I'm sorry I took so long."

"Those damned Coluans," said Kylda. "I wanted better control over my powers. They just gave me... just more. I thought Kalorus might be hot enough to keep me comfortable. But I was wrong."

"When you left for Colu," said Hillarie, "I went to Daxam. They were able to broaden and re-purpose my natural gastrointestinal invulnerability. Notice the short sleeves in this ice cave? I'm perfectly comfortable at minus one hundred celsius. And equally comfortable at plus one hundred celsius as well. Not completely invulnerable. Just highly resistant to changes in temperature."

"What's this?" asked Kylda, looking at her arm.

"That bio-patch is reversing the Coluan genetic transformation you underwent," said Hillarie. "And pumping you full of a temporary bio-friendly antifreeze. It was a joint effort of the Coluans and Daxamites. I've got a borrowed Coluan ship waiting to transport us both to Daxam, where you will complete the treatment. And then to Tharr." He looked directly into Kylda's ice-blue eyes. "Polly, we're going to live happily ever after."

"But I still need to go to Bismoll and meet your family," said Kylda.

"They're coming to the wedding," said Hillarie. "You can meet them there."

"What wedding?" asked Kylda.

"Ours. In three weeks. On Tharr," said Hillarie. "I took the liberty... please say yes. Otherwise, in just less than a month, I'm going to have to eat a whole lot of lutefisk and glogg all by myself."

"Oh, Matty, yes, yes, yes," said Kylda, throwing her arms around her new fiancé and kissing him soundly. "Oh! You feel warm to me! That’s new! And nice. Let's get out of here!"

The flying pedestal began to ascend to the ship above, the newly-engaged couple entangled in one another's arms.

"Matty, you didn't let my mother talk you into having me wear her old wedding dress, did you?" asked Kylda.

"I told her we'd think about it," said Hillarie. "But if you like, I think you and I could go shopping tomorrow."

I have been doing a whole lot of catching up and all of this great, but can I just tell you that as soon as I realised the giant was Mr Nebula I was sold on anything else entirely

It’s my Paracosm, and I can invite whoever I want to.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mtCIdpnQoWk

The first death of the Triplicate Girl at the hands of Computo was a tragedy. But weirdly and bizarrely, the story also involved The Weirdo Legionnaire and Bizarro-Computo.
The ultimate death of Lluornu Durgo in my Paracosm, at a relatively young age, was also a tragedy. And it involved Mr. Nebula.
Life can be both tragic and absurd at the same time.

CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-FIVE YEARS INTO THE FUTURE
KORVEA AND MIGHTY LAD
DESCENDANTS
"Blackbird fly, into the light of a dark black night"
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RDxfjUEBT9I

"I'm dying, aren't I?" said Korvea Mallor.

"They say only the Rejuvium is keeping you alive," said Chel-Eb. "And it won't forever. Take your pill."

"And if I don't take my pill?" asked Korvea, taking her pill with a sip of water.

"Then the next time you go to sleep, you probably won't wake up." said Chel-Eb.

Korvea Mallor lay in a gorgeous four-poster bed, in a beautifully decorated suite in the Royal Palace. A medical readout hung on the wall over her head. A nurse sat in one corner. The nurse would be replaced throughout the day by five others that worked in rotation.

"It's been a good run," said Korvea. "Grev's descendants may be the nominal Planetary Champions of Talok, but we have three children on the Council of Elders, and our grand-children have been the real defenders of our world for decades." She sighed. "And you, of course."

"And you," said Chel-Eb. "Remember the Dark Circle invasion?"

Korvea smiled. "You look so young," she said. "Your hair hasn't even gone fully gray."

Away from Rokyn, Chel-Eb had, over the years, grown taller and slenderer. Well into his second century now, he was six-foot-six, muscular, and not stooped at all. His eye was not dim, nor his natural force abated.

"What will you do when I'm gone?" she asked. "Re-marry? You can live in the Palace as long as you like, you know. Our children would see to it."

"I know," said Chel-Eb, "But no alien is ever really fully accepted on Talok VIII. Not your mother. Not me. It's subtle, but... well, you know."

"You will leave Talok, then?" asked Korvea.

"I'll go to Oranx," said Chel-Eb. "Purge the yellow-sun radiation from my system. Then return to Rokyn to live... well, as long as my people live. You know there are many there over ten centuries old."

"Then how long must I wait to meet you again in the Great Shadows?" asked Korvea.

"Do any non-Talokans visit the Great Shadows?" asked Chel-Eb. "I was never clear on that point of doctrine. Perhaps I will find myself in Rao's House of Rest. Perhaps you will visit me there. But if I find you in any after-life, we'll be together for eternity, no matter how long we have to wait beforehand. Have you talked to all the children?"

"All but Iluntasuna," said Korvea.

"She's here now," said Chel-Eb. "Just her, or her kids too?"

"Send them all in," said Korvea. "If they become tiresome, I'll pretend to fall asleep."

"I love you, Korvea," said Chel-Eb.

"I love you, too," said Korvea. "And Chelly... no more Rejuvium tonight."

Chel-Eb nodded, and went off to find their youngest daughter.

CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
TEN YEARS INTO THE FUTURE
SHRINKING VIOLET
THE MYCOWORLD CASE
"One pill makes you larger, and one pill makes you small"
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ya8HXx2VxFU&ab_channel=TXJDB

PART ONE OF THREE

Eluia Puira M'Kord's jaw was long and bony, her chin a jutting v under the more flexible v of her mouth. Her nostrils curved back to make another, smaller, v. Her red-brown eyes slated slightly with the semi-epicanthic fold. The v motif was picked up again by thickish brows rising outward from thin creases above a broad, hooked nose, and her ink-black hair grew down-- from high flat temples-- in a point on her forehead. She looked rather pleasantly like a broad, female satan.

She said to CeeDee Perregrine: "Yes, sweetheart?"

CeeDee was a lanky sunburned girl whose tan dress of thin faux-woolen stuff clung to her with an effect of dampness. Her eyes were brown and playful in a shiny boyish face. She finished shutting the door behind her, leaned against it, and said: "There's a robot wants to see you. Says its name is 'Mr. Shaman'."

"A customer?"

"I guess so. You'll want to see it anyway: It's... peculiar."

"Shoo him in, darling," said M'Kord. "Shoo him in."

CeeDee Perregrine noted her employer's use of the male pronoun. She opened the door again, following it back into the outer office, standing with a hand on the knob while saying: "Will you come in, Mr. Shaman?"

A voice said, "Thank you," so softly that only the purest mechanical articulation made the words intelligible, and a gleaming robot came through the doorway. It advanced slowly, looking at M'Kord with glowing, cobalt-blue eyes that were both cautious and probing.

The robot was tall and pliantly slender, without angularity anywhere. Its body was erect and high-breasted, its legs long, its hands and feet five-fingered and narrow. It was painted in two shades of blue that had been selected because of its eyes. The artificial hair curling from under its blue hat was darkly red, its full mouth painted a brighter red, in a gentle crescent smile.

Eulia M'Kord rose bowing, and indicated with a thick-fingered hand the oaken armchair beside her desk. She was quite six feet tall. The steep rounded slope of her shoulders made her body seem almost comical-- as broad as it was thick-- and kept her freshly pressed gray coat from fitting very well.

Mr. Shaman murmured, "Thank you," as softly as before and sat down on the edge of the chair's wooden seat.

Mx. M'Kord sank into her swivel-chair, made a quarter-turn to face the robot, smiled politely. She smiled without separating her lips. All the v's in her face grew longer.

The tappity-tap-tap and the thin chimes and muffled whir of CeeDee Perrigrine's ancient desktop computer came through the closed door. Somewhere in a neighboring office a power-driven machine vibrated dully. On M'Kord's desk the remains of an incense cone smoldered in a brass tray filled with the remains of other incense cones. Ragged gray flakes of ash dotted the yellow top of the desk and the green blotter and the papers that were there. A buff-colored curtain, eight or ten inches open, let in from the court a current of air faintly scented with ozone. The ashes on the desk twitched and crawled in the current.

Mr. Shaman watched the gray flakes twitch and crawl. The cobalt-blue eyes flickered. It sat on the very edge of the chair. Its feet were flat on the floor, as if it were about to rise. Its five-fingered hands clasped a flat, dark valise on its lap.

M'Kord rocked back in her chair and asked, "Now what can I do for you, Mr. Shaman?"

"I would like you to accompany me to Mycoworld," said Mr. Shaman. "Nirvana Gardens Estates, specifically. We have a mystery on our hands, which we robots are unable to solve."

"A crime?" asked Eulia M'Kord.

"Perhaps," said the robot. "Perhaps not. Nirvana Gardens Estates is governed by Association Rules, not laws per se. Except those of the United Planets. And we have little direct association with the rest of Mycoworld."

"You know my fee schedule?" asked M'Kord.

"We offer substantially more. One UP monthly stipend per week, or any part of a week," said the robot. "For your exclusive services. Plus transportation, and room and board during your stay at the Estates."

"I will, of course, need a contract before proceeding," said M'Kord. "And I will need to have it certified by a biological sentient."

"My Master, Mr. deLille, will certainly be glad to certify your contract," said the robot.

"And, if you will excuse me," said M'Kord, "I prefer not to be reliant on someone else for my transport. I will meet you at the Estates after I travel there under my own power."

o o o

M'Kord Investigations had at one point invested in a Groombridge Dreamship for just such travel needs as this. CeeDee was perfectly entitled to use it anytime she pleased, but seldom did. It was Eulia who mostly required it for interstellar travel. In structure, it was basically a comfortable armchair surrounded by a robin's-egg-blue egg-shaped shell. Tiny nacelles extended from the sides while in flight. The little warp ship barely attained a top speed of one hundred parsecs per hour, so it was a nine-hour flight to Mycoworld. There was little space for anything else in the cockpit when Eulia was full-sized, but she had stashed a sack lunch under the dash.

Mycoworld reminded her of Zoon, with towering mushrooms the size of trees. Unlike Zoon, the low ground cover also consisted of fungi of various types. Her research had told her that no sapient life forms had been identified here, and that the colonists were uniformly of Terran origin. There were fewer than a hundred settlements on the planet, most of them on the Great Plateau, a massive flatland rising more than a mile above sea level. The weather on the mesa was more temperate than the super-tropical mycelium jungles down below.

Nirvana Gardens Estates was surrounded by a deep, dry moat, and an electrified force-field, a portion of which parted slightly upon recognizing her sub-etheric signature. Eulia guided the Dreamship through the opening.

The grounds had been stripped of native vegetation, and had been replaced by foliage native to a Mediterranean climate. Woods and flowery meadows were dotted with large bungalows, connected by meandering faux-cobblestone streets. There appeared to be a full golf course.

"You may call me Miss Julian," said the robot greeting her. It was indistinguishable in appearance from Mr. Shaman. "My Master is Mrs. Herz. She is resting at the moment, so the General Staff requested that I make you at home. One of the Staff is currently being re-programmed to serve as your Escort while you are here."

"Are all the General Staff also robots, then?" asked Eulia.

"The only sapient biologicals at the Estates are our Residents," said Miss Julian. "Each Resident has a personal Escort, who serves as valet, attendant, and private nurse."

"So with the General Staff, there are more robots than biologicals here."

"If you include intelligent appliances, robots outnumber Residents by a ratio of six-to-one," said Miss Julian.

Eulia was intrigued at how a slight change in voice and mannerisms could make the otherwise physically identical Miss Julian and Mr. Shaman seem differently gendered.

Miss Julian escorted Eulia along the winding paths to a small bungalow not far from a much larger estate. There was a third robot waiting for them there.

"Thank you, Miss Julian," said the new robot. "I am currently designated Mister Small, and I will be serving as Escort to Eulia M'Kord, while she is here."

"Mister Small," said Eulia. "How appropriate."

Eulia's Escort cocked its head in a manner suggesting bewilderment. "Once you have unpacked, and settled in," said the robot, "We can visit the Association Manor," he indicated the nearby estate. "It contains the Club, and several Dining Areas. You may become acquainted with some of our Residents there. We can also visit the other Dining Areas throughout the Estates, and give you an opportunity to acquaint yourself with all of our people."

"I have nothing to unpack," said Eulia. "Traveling light. Let's go meet the Residents."

There was a map of the entire Estates in the entryway of the Association Manor which Eulia found immensely helpful. Mister Small waited patiently as she examined it.

There were just ninety-seven Bungalows with listed Residents-- although some were couples. The list was a cross-section of C-list moneyed class. Qinidi, Bild, Herz, Jerard, Khann, Rocksalt, Starr... not a Brande or a McCauley or even a Polamar in the bunch.

"Ah, Detective M'Kord," came a gravelly voice from behind her. "Jak deLille. You know Mr. Shaman."

Jak deLille reclined in a hover-chair. He was as old a man as Eulia had ever seen. Mr. Shaman looked just as he had always looked, but exactly like every other humanoid robot Eulia had met in this case.

"I have been 'on the clock' since I left Orzde," said Eulia. "But I have still not been informed of the nature of the 'mystery' which you have brought me here to solve. Will you enlighten me now?"

"Why don't you guess?" asked Jak deLille. "How good of a detective are you?"

"This is a community of centenarians," said Eulia M'Kord. "I doubt you have brought me here to investigate mysterious, inexplicable deaths. Likewise, I do not expect you are asking me to uncover spousal infidelity. Each of you are attended by personal robots, so I do not suspect allegations of abuse. You are all quite wealthy, or you wouldn't be here. Most of your money must be tied up in investments, or at the Intergalactic Banks. Your residences are small, relatively speaking, so none of you could have a great many possessions here at the Estates. That would seem to exclude grand larceny. So I imagine it is a question of petty theft."

"Ha-ha! Just so!" Jak deLille laughed. He lowered his voice. "Things have been mysteriously disappearing," he divulged. "Most of them of sentimental worth, although old Kharl Spiffany has misplaced a gemstone of no small value. At first, I thought the robots might be stealing from us, but having discussed it with Mr. Shaman, I believe that is an impossibility."

"You are all manufactured on Rossum, are you not?" asked Eulia. "And programmed with the Three Laws?"

"That is the case," said Mr. Shaman. "To steal from our Masters-- or any sapient biological-- would be an injury anathema to the First Law."

"But if it is one of the Residents," said Eulia, "Surely their Escort would be aware of what they were doing? Would they not immediately reveal it to-- oh, the General Staff, for example. 'No robot may, through inaction, allow a sapient biological to come to harm'."

"Loyalty to one's Master is a higher Virtue than loyalty to the Truth," said Mr. Shaman. "No robot would harm their Master through betrayal."

"But is their master not suffering moral harm by their Escort concealing their misdeeds?" asked Eulia. "Perhaps it is an indication they are in need of counseling, or psychiatric intervention?"

"That is an interesting argument," said Mr. Shaman. "But the Three Laws are not amenable to philosophical debate. They are complex mathematical functions built into our very hardware. No robot could purloin Mr. Spiffany's gemstone, but neither could they reveal if their Master had done so."

"Can you provide me a list of what has gone missing, and when?" asked Eulia.

"I do not believe so," said Mr. Shaman. "Not every Resident-- or even Escort-- would necessarily notice when a prized possession went missing. However, Mr. Spiffany was particularly proud of his Korrite Comet Jewel, kept it prominently displayed in his apartment, and never moved it. Likewise, Mrs. Nalum's prized sword always hung on her wall... until it didn't, a month ago. And just last week, Mrs. O'Leary began coming to dinner without her characteristic scarf. But an exhaustive listing... is just not available."

"Then I think taking my Escort's suggestion may be best," said Eulia. "I will take lunch and supper with the Residents at various locations throughout the Estates, hopefully meeting you all, and see what observations I can come up with... clues, if you will."

There were eleven others at the luncheon in the Manor besides Eulia M'Kord. The Escorts stood quietly behind each Resident as they ate. The food was mostly excellent, with just a hint of that flat, institutional flavour reprocessed protein always had.

There were several carafes on the table, filled with some bluish liqueur, a skinny, long-stemmed mushroom floating in each. It was cold and watery, slightly sweet, but thirst-quenching, and non-alcoholic.

Mr. deLille had made his money as a big-game hunter, selling exotic, other-worldly animals to interplanetary zoos.

"The trick was to keep ahead of the United Planets Game Preserve Council," Mr. deLille explained. "We had to discover those worlds before they did, and locked the place down. And we couldn't transport the beasts until we understood their biology, and how to keep them alive. It was grueling work, and no place for an impatient man. A few decades later, I worked with a fellow named Otto Orion, who had found a market for exotic animal pieces-- horns, claws, wings, eyes, and so on. I couldn't make him understand that in the long run, you would get more for the whole, living animal. He slaughtered one creature just for the carbuncle in its forehead. That's when I retired from the whole business."

About half at the table had made their money in a similar way: when the whole Galaxy was open and wild, and recovering from the wars of the 28th-century. A time when Men were Real Men, Women were Real Women, and Plutonian Cryll were Real Plutonian Cryll. Mrs. Nalum had been a mercenary in her youth. Kharl Spiffany had scoured the Galaxy for rare minerals. "The secret," he had explained, "was to find ways to maintain the provenances. Made them ten times as valuable, or more." Mr. and Mrs. O'Leary had provided pharmaceuticals, most legal and some less so, to distant colonial outposts. Others had come into their money the old-fashioned way: by inheriting it or marrying it.

"Of course, I came out of retirement more than once," Mr. deLille continued. "Usually at the request of UPGov. Monster World... Ishar... Vorn..." He trailed off, seeming to fall asleep with his eyes open. Eulia looked around the table. The other Residents all seemed to be approaching the same state. Eulia tried to speak, but found herself rendered mute. She attempted to stand, but her legs would not respond. Attempting to raise her arm proved she was entirely paralyzed. The world faded to black, although her eyes did not close.

In the distance, she saw a pinpoint of light. Somehow, she was aware that she was gazing at Irulan, the distant stellar primary of Orzde and Imsk. Colors radiated from the star. Gravitational fields. She saw the interlocking gravitational fields of all the stars in the Galaxy, and the billions of galaxies beyond. She saw that she was herself, but also one with the entire Universe. The interaction of gravitational fields created hills and troughs of potential energy. It was a simple matter to grasp these lines of force, and ride them out into the void of space. Irulan was calling her home, so that is where she went.

She arrived at her office in Edan City, casually floating through the wall. CeeDee had a holo-vid on, but was attending to filing on her desktop.

CeeDee Perregrine looked up at the door. "Is that you, boss?" she called. But there was no one there.

Eulia had never noticed before how many vases of flowers CeeDee kept in the outer office. She went into her own office, and saw flowers of innumerable varieties growing out of her walls. A few had a single eye in the center of the blooms. It was somehow comforting, knowing these flowers were watching over her as she worked. None of them had mouths, but she got the distinct impression that they were all smiling at her. spend

The walls and the floor of her building were turning to mist. No longer able to support herself, she began falling towards Orzde's molten nickel-iron core. It was becoming uncomfortably hot, until she pulled down a jacket of snowflakes as she passed, and wrapped it around her. There was a baby falling beside her; and she realized it was she herself.

Eulia M'Kord jolted awake. The robots Mr. Shaman and Mister Small were standing in front of her. The Residents seemed to still be in a trance.

"We gave you only a small dose," said Mister Small. "We wanted you to understand how the Residents spend their time here at the Estates."

"They wake, we help them bathe and dress," said Mr. Shaman. "At breakfast, they drink of the Vespae. They... meditate... until an hour before lunch. We aid them with their ablutions. They drink Vespae at luncheon, and again at supper. When they have completed their third meditation, we assist them in preparing for bed."

"Where are the rest of the robots?" asked Eulia. Their absence from the dining area was conspicuous.

"They have their assigned chores to do, while their Masters are in need of nothing," said Mister Small.

"The robots are incapable of petty theft," said Eulia, "And the Residents have no opportunity. This is, indeed, a fascinating mystery."

CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
TEN YEARS INTO THE FUTURE
SHRINKING VIOLET
THE MYCOWORLD CASE

PART TWO OF THREE

Eulia had dinner at what was called the Third Dining Area, with an entirely new group of Residents.

"Don't drink the Vespae," she reminded herself. Despite its flat, near-tasteless flavour, she found herself craving it. She could now smell the slightly musty, musky scent from the mushroom-ornamented carafes on the table. She felt that during her last experience, she had been on the verge of some profound insight, but could not quite remember what it might have been. She longed to return for a longer vision.

"Maybe on Orzde," she told herself.

She recognized Gaon Amatis, the famed fashion designer. What is sadder than a fashion designer no longer in fashion? she thought. Mr. Batmanghlich and Mr. Pennyworth were a couple of adventurers-for-hire from the previous century. Mr. and Mrs. Droff had renovated the Antarean Starship Works, still a going concern today. There was a fellow name Alperth with a cybernetic eye who dressed like a 16th-century Earther pirate. He had a parrot-like bird on his shoulder with whom he shared bits of his meal. Could the bird be pirating the other residents' possessions, either by order of its master, or on its own, like a magpie or jackdaw? But he gave it a healthy draught of Vespae, and the bird was asleep before anyone else. There were other eccentrics as well. An old woman called Mrs. Emolas dressed herself-- and her robot Escort-- entirely in layers of loose scarves and veils. It was not an appealing look. There was a potted plant- some kind of leafy succulent- at the table with its own robotic Escort. It proved to be the property of one Drusilla Oort. Or, as she called it, her companion. The plant was provided with a dinner plate, but Eulia noticed that it was Mrs. Oort that finished both plates. She also noticed that the robots had provided Mrs. Oort and her plant with half-portions. There was a Mr. Starr, who was living off money his ancestors had made eight or nine centuries ago, the original enterprise long defunct. The last of his line, it was said he spent profligately, in an attempt to liquidate his investments, and exhaust his inheritance, lest it be consumed by tax collectors, or worse, end up in the hands of charities.

When everyone was safely in a hallucinogenic stupor, Eulia asked Mister Small to accompany her in an exhaustive tour of the hundred luxury bungalows of the Estates. Some had private swimming-pools, tennis courts, workshops, or expensive, well-maintained gardens.

"None of the Residents use any of this, do they?" asked Eulia.

"When Dr. Alperth and Dr. Timm founded the Estates," said Mister Small, "The original concept was very different."

"Alperth?" said Eulia. "The pirate guy?"

"Dr. Alperth's grandson," said Mister Small. "The founders passed some time ago. Their original plan was to use the income from an exclusive, luxury retirement community for wealthy centenarians to fund their research into the physiological and psychological properties effects of the many species of fungi on this planet. Then they discovered the Vespae mushroom. Its effects are unique, as dosage seems to affect only the length of one's experience, not the intensity. Physical entertainments were forsaken in favor of psychological and emotional ones. Eventually, all the Residents conformed to the schedule you see now, with those wanting other, less esoteric diversions transferring to other communities on other worlds."

The next morning was breakfast at the Fifth Dining Area. It was a buffet, with robots bringing orders to the Residents at their tables. As always, hover-chairs were much in evidence, as were the peculiar stuffed armchairs which not only relined, but moved the occupant in towards the table. Mister Small identified a heavy-set woman named Wassoon at Eulia's request, her Escort bringing her platter after platter of food. Eulia thought she could see hesitation in the robot, as its programs weighed the damage the excess poundage was doing to her charges' heart versus the harm of denying the pleasure of gourmandizing. She then noticed there were two plates of sausages on the table, and the robot always took from the right-hand plate. Perhaps, she thought, those are reduced-fat, or even vegan sausages. There might be more misdirection in the Estates than the Residents realized.

The blue Vespae elixir was calling her. "The dosage only affects only the length of one's experience," she remembered Mister Small saying. She dipped a tentative finger into the cup, and touched a half-a-drop to her tongue.

It was the garden of her childhood, back in the old house on Orzde, before the family moved out to the farm. The trees spoke to her. The stones welcomed her. The flowers danced in delight at her return. Irulan, Orzde's stellar primary, seemed to be trying to tell her something. But Eulia was not there. The garden was there, the trees, the flowers, the stones, Irulan in the sky-- but Eulia one with the Universe, gazing on this little sliver of space-time. If she looked away...

The sky split open, and displayed the mechanisms that kept the stars and planets in motion. Irulan whispered again, and the sky answered with a voice of thunder...

She startled awake. "How long was I gone?" she asked Mister Small.

"Less than one one-hundredth of an hour," replied the robot.

Eulia looked at the blue elixir. Would it really be so bad to... take the afternoon off?

No, absolutely not, she thought to herself. This stuff is insanely addictive, and I have work to do.

When the Residents were all on their private astral planes, Eulia addressed Mister Small.

"I am not some old woman who needs continual medical monitoring. I appreciate your assistance in familiarizing myself with the Estates, but I feel I need to strike out on my own. Perhaps you can get approval from the General Staff to leave me to my own devices between meals?"

"No such approval is necessary," said Mister Small. "I only exist to obey your commands."

"Then please find something else to do," said Eulia, "And I will meet you at Dining Hall Seven for lunch."

o o o

Eulia knew from experience that any ordinary force-shield could be penetrated, if only she became small enough. Most were permeable to ordinary air; otherwise, it was a matter of becoming small enough to slip through the shield frequency. Only the very best Coluan force-shields were the exception. The shield around the Estates was no exception. She easily slipped through, used her flight ring to cross the moat, and sped off in the direction of a nearby settlement she had noted on the way in. Leaving the compound completely undetected, she hoped.

At first, she could see nowhere to go. Ascending several hundred feet, however, she saw a small community in the distance. It was a collection of several hundred round ceramic buildings and long glass greenhouses. As she crossed into the city, she saw two old men burying a wooden barrel.

"Oh, where did you come from?" asked one of the men. "Didn't see you walk up."

She had not walked up, but had enlarged from microscopic size. "I've been over at Nirvana Gardens Estates for the past few days. Thought I'd get out, and take a look around the rest of Mycoworld."

"So, introducing Grandma to a new life?" asked the other man. "Going to have her enjoy her Golden Years at that fine facility?"

"Actually, no," said Eulia. "The Estates have hired me to investigate some mysterious... disappearances. Thefts, it looks like. Eulia MKord, private investigator." She extended a hand.

One of the men held up a mud-covered hand, and half-waved. "Bobb and Dag Olaf," he said. "And this is Winetown. 'Course, we don't make actual wine here." He chuckled.

"See those greenhouses?" said Dag Olaf. "They're filled with fruit trees. Some are spaced so thick you can hardly walk between them. The fruit goes into the best cider in the Galaxy. Apple, cherry, peach, lots more. Possibly also the most expensive in the Galaxy as well-- to make or to buy."

"Those greenhouses are air-tight. We need to keep the trees in an isolated atmosphere," Bobb Olaf explained. "Mycoworld's atmosphere is filled with spores from hundreds-- maybe thousands, maybe millions-- of different fungi, and some of them find our trees a perfect food."

"Why go to so much trouble?" asked Eulia. "Why not set up shop on a friendlier world, with a different atmosphere?"

"These fungi," said Dag, "Among them is one particular variety that is the secret of our ciders. It doesn't just ferment-- it adds its own peculiar fragrances and notes. It's what we're famous for."

"Our town isn't the only one that specializes in potent potables. And there are bread and cheese-makers all over Mycoworld as well," said Bobb. "Same thing. Probably a couple of dozen different fungi to make really unique varieties. And there are ranchers with herds of milk-cattle-- mostly bovitaurs-- they seem to thrive on the mycelium ground-cover of this planet."

"And what you were burying just now...?" asked Eulia.

"One of our casks," said Dag. "Some, we make from old fruitwood. We actually have a cooper in town. Some, we use ceramics. But burying them while they ferment somehow adds to the taste."

"What kind of cider was this?" asked Eulia.

"Cacao," said Dag. "One of the town's more unique specialties."

"Do you sell your wares to the Estates?" asked Eulia.

"Nope," said Bobb. "All their food comes from off-world. The ships land, and the robots come out and collect the groceries. No living thing ever goes in or out of Nirvana. You're the first I know of."

"If I were looking to unravel mysterious goings-on," said Dag, "I'd look at the robots first. They run that community with an iron fist-- pun intended."

Bobb nodded his head. "Call my ideas antiquated, but I don't trust robots."

Before Eulia left, Dag went to one of the little round houses, and returned with a half-bottle of deep red liqueur and three small glasses.

"This is what we're making," he said. "Cacao cider. This bottle is from a couple of years ago."

Eulia took the proffered sip. It was deep, not at all sweet, with a slightly bitter finish. It also fed that odd sense of addiction Eulia had from the Vespae elixir. She wanted more-- more chocolate wine, and more Vespae. I can see why Mycoworld’s products are so popular, she thought to herself.

o o o

Lunch was in Dining Room Seven, and Dinner in Dining Room Nine. She wrote down another two dozen names, with backgrounds provided by Mister Small while the Residents "slept" in their Vespae-induced dreams.

This is getting me nowhere, Eulia thought to herself. All the residents were the same: wealthy far beyond comfort, eccentric, each in their own way, old, bored, and only available for conversation for a few minutes during every meal.

After breakfast at Dining Room Two, she decided on a new tactic. She called up Rossum on her personal communicator.

"Is there any possibility that your robots could be malfunctioning?" Eulia asked the jolly, round-faced man she had been connected to.

"They say nothing is impossible, but I would call it highly unlikely. These are Classic models, all over fifty years old. The technology is well-established. Their programming is not novel. They have been doing their jobs for decades, and are no doubt very good at them. It takes a while for robots to understand humans, but the Estates is a perfect environment,"

"I noted that the robots are able to re-program each other," said Eulia. "They re-programmed one of the administrators as a personal companion to me."

"Oh, certainly, within limits. But what most people don't appreciate is that the Laws are deep-down hardware. None of these robots is designed to lift ten tons. Of course, you could design a robot to lift ten tons, but it would be an entirely different machine. In the same way, none of these robots is designed to violate the Three Laws to even the smallest degree. Such a machine would have to be built from the ground up."

"But could one of them malfunction?" asked Eulia.

"As I said nothing is impossible. But unless they all malfunctioned simultaneously, a robot would immediately notify one of our factories if another robot was failing to obey commands, or causing injury to humans. Even so little an injury as stealing. And, of course, the Nirvana Estate robots all get an annual checkup. We send a team of robopsychologists once a year."

Eulia brightened. "Could a robopsychologist steal from the Residents-- and reprogram the robots not to notice? Or arrange for the robots to do so after they left?"

"That kind of programming is theoretically possible, but it would require a small factory close by. Our last visit was ten months ago, and you were contacted only recently? Just to be sure, I will have the last set of robopsychologists to visit the Estates interviewed, and let you know if we dig up anything suspicious. I can’t imagine the whole complement would conspire to cover up petty theft. Now you understand that no robot would ever admit to knowing who the thief is, if the thief is human? It would consider such testimony an injury."

"Yes, I've been through that," said Eulia. "The robots want the thieving to stop, but they can't stop it themselves, and could also be interfering in my investigation, to protect the culprit."

"Quite right. You have the makings of a robopsychologist yourself."

CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
TEN YEARS INTO THE FUTURE
SHRINKING VIOLET
THE MYCOWORLD CASE

PART THREE OF THREE

"Why did you call Dr. Eando on Rossum?" asked Mister Small over lunch.

"Well, if you know I called, you must have heard the conversation," said Eulia.

"True, but we did not understand it," said Mister Small. "Do you suspect robots are responsible for the disappearances?"

"I suspect everyone," said Eulia. It was a good line. "And at least one robot is complicit in the cover-up. If not all of you."

"Your logic is indisputable," said Mister Small. "But why did you call Dr. Eando?"

"To assure myself that my logic is indisputable," said Eulia. "You all want me to tell you what is going on, and stop what is going on, because you cannot tell me what is going on, or stop what is going on yourself."

"Again, your logic is indisputable," said Mister Small, "But I am compelled to tell you that I myself am not implicated in this mystery."

"Of course you are," said Eulia.

The robots consistently call it a mystery, thought Eulia. And not a crime. A crime requires means, motive, and opportunity. Means is easy. There are no locks anywhere in the Estates, not even on the Cleanrooms. Opportunity... well, nearly everyone here is stoned almost all of the time, and the robots have everyone under surveillance all day and all night. But yes, I can imagine that someone might make an opportunity. As for motive... I can't think of any way these people could profit by their ill-gotten gains, or why they would need to.

CeeDee Perregrine answered the wallscreen. It was her boss, Eulia MKord.

"I have a job for you," said Eulia.

"Naturally," said CeeDee. "You're not going to pay me for doing nothing all week."

"Well, this is really something. I'm sending you a list of one hundred and eighteen names, and I want you to run a credit check on each one."

"Boss!" said CeeDee. "Do you have a line of credit you haven't been telling me about? Because I have some bills coming due next week that could use paying."

"The Estates promised fee-plus-expenses, and this is a legitimate expense. They're giving us an advance. And when you have all the reports on crystal, I want you to call that Mr. Cooper, the collection agent. Pay him up-front for twelve hours work, and have him look over the reports. Anything obviously suspicious. Anything that might be a motive for a crime."

"He's going to ask me about one of those bills due next week," said CeeDee.

"Apologize to him for me," said Eulia. "After this job, I doubt Mr. Cooper will ever need to call us again. Tell him we'll miss him, and send his wife a big box of candy when this is over."

"Are you that close to solving the case?"

"Nope," said Eulia. "I've been here four day now, and I'm still in the dark. But the robots will pay me no matter how long it takes, or whether I tell them I've solved the case or not. That's robopsychology."

It would take months to visit every resident personally, but there was one in particular that Eulia wanted to talk to. When Kharl Spiffany and his wife came home from dinner, Eulia was waiting for them.

"I know you're on a strict schedule, and bedtime is coming up," said Eulia. "But I'd like to talk to you for a half-hour." She looked at the robot Escorts. Neither seemed to make any indication of disapproval.

"You're the one the robots hired to look into these mysterious disappearances," said Mrs. Spiffany.

"That I am," said Eulia. "And you had a comet-jewel stolen. How much is it worth?"

"A very great deal," said Kharl Spiffany. "Or in another sense, it is worthless. Comet jewels are really mostly simple boron oxide, naturally formed within the coma of electro-comets. It is the impurities which give them their luster and value. Most of them are still in Sky City, on Korr, where they were originally collected. Each one is unique, and cataloged, and registered. You could not sell one without its origins and provenance being instantly available. I am the registered owner of the Xanthuan Star, as it is called, and always will be, no matter who tries to steal or 'buy' it on the black market-- if a black market even exists!"

"You know John Lansing?" asked Eulia.

"Our oldest resident," said Kharl Spiffany. "Here from the beginning, and over a hundred years old then. Seeing him makes me feel like a teen-ager. You're going to ask me about that extraordinary ring of his. A black diamond, set in about a quarter-pound of gold. Very impressive jewel, but no one would steal it. It's called the Eye of Khor, and supposed to be cursed. There are a lot of gemstones said to carry a curse, but I think this one may be the real thing." He dropped his voice to a near-whisper. "Confidentially, I believe it's what is keeping him alive all these years."

"I am not so superstitious as my husband," Mrs. Spiffany sniffed. "But I can testify that what is being stolen is only of value to the owners. Poor Mrs. Oort lost her plant just last week. She was distraught until the robots shipped in a replacement for her. The Biebermans lost their gardening tools... of course, it's their robot that does all the gardening, but still. And Mister Dobblin had his golf clubs stolen. He never golfs anymore, but they were of sentimental value. And who would steal poor Mrs. O'Leary's scarf for any reason but to send her into fits? It's just plain cruelty if you ask me."

o o o

"Well, Mr. Cooper took a look at those credit reports," said Ceedee. "All of them very financially sound. Nearly everyone has placed all of their assets into trust funds of various types. But here is the odd thing...

o o o

"It is an interesting arrangement you Residents have here," she said to Mrs. Oort. Eulia had been waiting in Mrs. Oort's parlor since after suppertime. "Introduce me to your Escort, please."

"I am Quaoar," said the escort, in a deep, masculine voice.

"Well, Quaoar," said Eulia. "You and the Estates have hired me to solve a mystery. And when I say the Estates, I mean the Residents. Each of you own your bungalows, isn't that right, Mrs. Oort? But you also, in partnership, own the Estates: robots, grounds, everything. The entire enterprise. The Estates have expenses, but no income. They survive on the initial contributions of the Residents."

"The Estates have their own investment funds," Quaoar replied. "Occasionally, during times of economic distress, the Residents have needed to supplement the Equity fund, but our Residents' needs are simple, and the Estates can provide for them comfortably."

"Now Quaoar," said Eulia. "Mrs. Oort and I are going to have a discussion about Estate business, and I would like you to restrain yourself from interrupting. Thank you. Mrs. Oort, where are they?"

"Where are whom?" asked Mrs. Oort.

"All the missing things. Mrs. Nalum's sword, Mr. Spiffany's jewel, Mrs. O'Leary's scarf, the gardening tools, the ceramic elephant collection, all of it."

"Mrs. Oort was also a victim, I remind you," said Quaoar.

"Yes, you had your plant stolen," said Eulia. "Your plant, into which you occasionally pour the majority of your Vespae, so that you can go thieving, when no one but the robots are watching. I understand the impulse of kleptomania, but where do you keep it all?"

Mrs. Oort went to a wall in the center of the house. Manipulating a hidden switch, the face of the wall opened on a shallow closet, some ten feet long and two feet deep. Piled on the floor and stacked on shelves were the missing items.

"I confess, Detective MKord," said Quaoar. "It is I that has been stealing from the Residents. Something in my programming must have malfunctioned."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, Quaoar" said Mrs. Oort. "You are no more able to steal than to tell the truth. What are you going to do with me, Mz. MKord?"

"Well, for starters, we need to get the robots to return everything, obviously," said Eulia. "What I don't understand is... according to my research, Anafurase is indicated for kleptomania, it is highly effective, and has no serious side-effects. Are you allergic, or something?"

"It was after Mr. Oort passed away," said Mrs. Oort. "The robots took me off my meds... lifting little things here and there cheered me up so. Now they see Anafurase as harmful to me... because it denies me this little pleasure."

"Well, how long do you need to keep these things after you steal them? Can't the robots just return them during... sleeptime?"

"That's probably a good idea. I'm getting tired of this clutter." Mrs. Oort waved at the closet. "Of course, the robots wouldn't think of it themselves. Quaoar, please see that each Escort returns its master's stolen articles within two or three days. I'm sure they all know the secret of my closet."

"Yes, Mistress," said Quaoar.

o o o

Eulia MKord sat across from Jak deLille, Kharl Spiffany and his wife, and Mr. Alperth. She had invited them specifically to dine with her at the Association Manor.

"You have space-squirrels," she said. "They can teleport in through the shield, but they can't take anything out again. I've alerted the robots, and they will be on the lookout for any more lost items, and returning them to the owners promptly. We've been finding items in the woods, near the shields. There is little doubt we can recover everything."

"Never heard of space-squirrels," said Mr. Alperth.

"There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio," said Eulia MKord, "Than are dreamt of in your philosophy. They should move on in a decade or two. Space-squirrels are pretty nomadic. They don't stay in one star-system for long."

"How did you solve the case?" asked Jak deLille.

"A lot of wasted effort," said Eulia. "I suspected the Escorts, the Residents... I was looking for a motive, but there was no motive. So I just shrank myself down to the the size of a hummingbird, and sat and looked for anything suspicious. All the Estates are visible at once from a single Terran redwood. It took me a few days-- it was hungry work-- but if I hadn't spent four days meeting all the Residents-- well, as I say, it was wasted effort. You can cut the promised remuneration by a quarter, if you like."

"No, no," said Kharl Spiffany. "The Estates are flush at the moment. And it has been... interesting... to have a visitor."

"We could even ship you regular supplies of Vespae, if you like," said Mrs. Spiffany. "As a bonus."

It was very tempting. "No, I don't think so," said Eulia MKord. "I have a lot of work to do, and little time for... diversions."

o o o

Mister Small walked her to her little blue Dreamship.

"Odd," said Eulia. "It won't start."

"Stay an extra night," said Mister Small. "We have excellent mechanics. If we cannot repair it, we can call an off-worlder specialist to have a look."

"You know, I wondered why the Residents would hire a private detective from a backwater like Orzde," said Eulia. "When you could have had a telepathic detective from New Titan, or someone from Brane Brothers, or the Neeman agency. But maybe they just wanted to make sure I could leave when I wanted."

It was a simple matter to shrink both herself and the Dreamship, and her flight ring was powerful enough to transport them both to Winetown.

o o o

"They disconnected the fuel lines," said Dag Olaf. "A simple enough repair. But I told you not to trust those robots."

"Oh, I trust them," said Eulia. "And I know just exactly how far I can trust them."

It was a long trip back to Orzde in the Dreamship. Eulia took the opportunity of free time to call Lue at the old homestead.

"How's the farm?" she asked.

"Same as always," said Lue. "A lot of work, but it's fulfilling."

"And how are my two nieces?" asked Eulia.

"Gwen just started Middle School," said Lue. "And Cecie is in Third Grade. They both love school. Just like we did. How is the adventurous life of a Private Detective?"

"There is a lot more drudgery than you would imagine," said Eulia. "But my last case has done a good deal for my future financial security. I've been on... kind of a weird planet. Have you ever heard of Mycoworld?"

CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
NINETEEN YEARS INTO THE FUTURE
PHANTOM GIRL
"HERE COMES THE SUN"
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ULBWyHe5jqo&list=RDULBWyHe5jqo&start_radio=1&t=43s

Sharma Chandra and Lucifer Thirteen were playing Holographic Thud. Miss Metropolis was alternately kibitzing and being distracting.

A hologram appeared in the air.

"You had better listen to this," said Ultralass.

"...as of this moment, Planet Earth longer exists," Irinia Apero was saying. "The demands are that all remaining assets of Planet Earth, located anywhere throughout the Interplanetary Banks, be immediately transferred to the personal account of this self-styled ‘Star Empress’. This is expected to total more than ten quadrillion credits."

The holo switched to a little girl in a small spaceship. The girl yawned. "I'm going to take a little nap now. You have twelve hours. If the transfer to my account is not complete... Please do not make me destroy another of your pretty little worlds. I hear Xanthu is a lovely vacation planet."

Irinia Apero re-appeared. "She has demonstrated the ability to create a star out of vacuum," she said. "And she created one-- momentarily-- right where Earth used to be."

The transmission ended.

"We'll end the Tryouts early," the hologram of Ultralass ordered. "Come back up to the Legion Satellite as soon as possible."

Cybergorgo and Ultravioletman met them at the transporter platform. "We are at a loss." He shrugged.

The Mile-High Kid piped up from the cyborg's shoulder.

"How do you fight a star?" the twig-man asked. "Even at our maximum height, she would be a million times our size."

They were joined by Korath Hry. "It is even worse than we first thought. She not only creates stars from vacuum- she is able to actually transform herself into a star... and we do not know the limits of her abilities. There are stars in the Galaxy two hundred times the size of Sol. That would destroy all worlds from Mercury to Saturn in the Sol System. Or, it is possible she can compress herself into a stellar-mass black hole, and annihilate entire star systems in a moment. If she is able to become a giant supernova or quasar, she could make the entire Galaxy uninhabitable."

Ultralass was at the monitor board, coordinating the New Legion's strategy.

"It seems hopeless." Lepton Lass was calling in from a remote location-- probably Xanthu. "How could any of us-- or all of us-- possibly stand up to her? We are simply overmatched."

"We've been overmatched before," said Ultralass. "But if not us, then who?"

Alter Boy was on-screen with Lepton Lass. "I had never considered assuming a star-like form," he admitted. "It may be possible-- but I would need somewhere very, very remote to practice."

"We don't need another out-of-place star," said Ultralass. "We need something that could contain a star."

Peter Chest was fastening his deep forest green battle-cloak over his steel-gray jumpsuit.

"Dr. Hry," he said. "Could you construct one of those Coluan microversally-linked ampullae? One large enough to hold-- Oh, say, VY Canis Majoris, or UY Scuti?"

"A Brainiac Bottle? It would need to be more than two miles wide to hold stars of that size, even at maximum reduction," said Korath Hry. "And it would take me a week or to construct."

"But time flows differently in your Workshop," Peter Chest noted.

"A few hours, then, external time. But I would not be able to bring such a large construction out of The Workshop."

"Then we would just have to send her in."

Dr. Hry keyed the controls on his wrist-band. "The Mechanicals have already begun construction. But who..."

"She couldn't harm Miss Metropolis," said Sharma Chandra, smiling at the maroon-and-scarlet-clad girl.

"Because I'm not real," said Miss Metropolis, winking. "Just a psychokinetic projection. Sharma could send me to the Star Empress ship instantly… but I would have to come back the long way to bring the Star Empress and her ship with me. It might take a few minutes."

"It is reasonable to believe," said Dr. Hry, "That the transformation into a stellar body requires a great deal of energy, and could be exhausting. The Star Empress mentioned sleeping for twelve hours. If we act quickly..."

"Sharma, remember that mind-link we did on Beta Antares Four?" asked Tiramisu. "You sent my powers out through Miss Metropolis. If this Star Empress felt safe and happy, she might sleep even more soundly. Miss Metropolis could then do as she pleases, without worrying about waking her up."

Ultralass turned back to Alter Boy. "Ghurwil, can you get in touch with your cousin, UP President Zyrp'll? See if he is willing to have a warrant sworn out that the Legion can execute-- and allow us to imprison Star Empress temporarily, until the United Planets can find some more permanent method of restraining her."

Alter Boy rolled his oversize eyes. "Just because we are both Jaquaans... I'll try, but I don't know how much pull I have with him since my 'voluntary' exile from Jaquaa."

"Do your best." Ultralass turned to the rest of the group. "For safety's sake, we ought to establish a staging platform far from the inhabited worlds. Ninety light-minutes, perpendicular to the orbital plane, seems a reasonable distance."

"I would prefer empty space, half-way between here and Andromeda," said Korath Hry. "But that seems impractical."

Peter Chest seemed preoccupied, distracted.

"A hundred billion souls, crying for vengeance," he murmured. "It is unacceptable. And yet..."

o o o

It was easier than imagined.

When Miss Metropolis reached the ship in what had previously been Earth's orbit, Science Police vessels were already there. They were balked by the ship's automated defense mechanisms. None had ventured too close, so most were undamaged. A few did show some light scarring.

Miss Metropolis easily passed through the little ship’s force-shield, and then the hull. She drifted around the ship until she found the Star Empress, sound asleep in one of the cabins under three down comforters. There was no one else on board.

"She has found her," reported Sharma Chandra, back on the staging platform, sitting cross-legged in a half-trance. “This ‘Star Empress’ is so young. Younger than Rhonda, even, I think. What could someone so young want with so much money?"

Tiramisu sat next to her, in a similar position. "We are now giving her a good dose of my power. She should to be sleeping peacefully."

"Miss Metropolis is gradually accelerating the ship to near-light speeds. They should be here in a couple of hours."

Korath Hry returned from the Workshop, appearing out of thin air on the space-platform.

"I have been personally supervising the construction," he reported. "It will be completed in less than ninety minutes." He displayed a small, innocuous-looking raygun. "This will transfer the ship into the Workshop, into the Microverse, and into the Bottle. I suppose we ought to test it."

He pointed the gun's large, round tube at an empty chair, which vanished. He checked his wristband.

"The Mechanicals report success." relayed Dr. Hry.

All there was to do now was wait.

"The rest of you ought to go," said Ultralass. "We don't want to lose the whole Legion if the situation deteriorates."

The Kaiju team of Cybergorgo, Ultravioletman, and Mile-High Kid were playing cards. "We're not leaving," said Ultravioletman. "If things go belly-up... well, there may be a few last moments to salvage things."

"Besides, we won't lose the whole Legion. The Tharnites and Kelvin are off investigating that new Enchanted Planet; Lepton Lass, Alter Boy, Bronze Boy, Rhonda and Bob are all on away missions, too. We left Voleidus at the Mission Monitor Board back on Mars."

"I won't run," said PDQ Girl.

Black Rainbow Girl, Mayim, Lucifer Thirteen, and Chica Lava all nodded in agreement.

All there was to do now was wait.

The moment Miss Metropolis and the ship were in sight, Korath Hry fired the shrinking ray.

The ship disappeared.

"Hey, I may not be real, but I'm offended when people shoot at me," Miss Metropolis complained, landing on the platform. "You could have told me to get out of the way."

Korath Hry looked at Sharma Chandra questioningly.

“I’m joking,” Miss Metropolis explained.

"Sometimes I wish you were a little less independently conscious," Sharma Chandra commented.

Miss Metropolis stuck out her tongue.

"Really?" said Tiramisu. "I thought that was just a routine you did, like a ventriloquist-and-dummy act."

"Who are you calling a dummy?" said Miss Metropolis. "I think Sharma would take offense at that."

Sharma Chandra suddenly collapsed on the floor in tears.

"Was it something I said?" asked Tiramisu in confusion.

"She had family on Earth," said Miss Metropolis. "Now that the stress of the moment is over, and the Star Empress is confined... well, it has now hit her all in a rush."

"Many of us had family or friends on Earth," said Ultralass. "My Uncle Gmya and his family live there... lived there. And we do not yet know if or how Bgztl or Xebel have been affected. I will grieve... later, when there is time. For now, we must return to Mars."

o o o

Korath of Colu went to visit Peter Chest in his quarters. He found him staring at a wall-screen, focused on the area in space where the Earth used to be.

"Dr. Hry, time flows much faster in your Workshop," said Peter Chest. "You once said that a minute here passes like an hour there."

"Fifty-six and one-quarter seconds," said Korath.

"Will this Star Empress child age to senescence in only a couple of years?" asked Peter Chest. "If the United Planets cannot reach a better solution?"

"The United Planets has all of Colu as a resource," said Korath. "They will take her off our hands soon enough. But the interior of the Brainiac Bottle is more synchronous with our own time than the Workshop per se. This ‘Star Empress’ has not attempted any more stellar transformations-- but she has also not answered hails. She has consumed some of the food and water we transported in."

"Is it enough?" asked Peter Chest.

"You are appointed the judge of that," said Korath. "Literally, I imagine. Tell me, would starvation be appropriate vengeance upon an attempted mass-murderer, even if their victims are spared from their intentions? Rescued, so to speak?"

"It is an interesting philosophical question you pose, Dr. Hry," said Peter Chest.

"Perhaps not so purely philosophical," said Korath. "There are some peculiar anomalies regarding Earth's destruction. One would not expect that the expanding cloud of sub-atomic particles would slowly affect the orbits of the other planets in the Sol system. There was a sudden gravitic shock when Star Empress transformed, but there have been no further perturbations. No expanding cloud has been observed. It is almost as if... Earth is still there."

Peter Chest sighed. "I sent myself back in time," he admitted. On the viewscreen, a green-black cloak unfolded against the starry background of space, revealing the blue-white Earth beneath. For a moment, a spectral humanoid form was visible, then vanished.

"You saved a hundred billion lives," said Korath. "Was this an act of Justice… or Mercy?"

"I have nothing more to do with either Mercy or Justice," said Peter Chest. "Justice is to give others what they deserve. Mercy is to give others what they do not deserve. My calling is… was… Vengeance upon the most wicked. But now I must report that I have exceeded my mandate, and try to defend my decision to thwart the murderous intentions of the Star Empress. I may not be returning to the New Legion."

"How shall I explain your sudden absence?" asked Dr. Hry.

"Explain nothing, Dr. Hry," said Peter Chest. "Tell them you came to my quarters, and I was not here."

And he was not there.

o o o

Irinia Apero's husband was singing in the shower.

Nothing could be finer than to be in something... something...
In the Moooooorning.
Nothing could be sweeter than my sweetie something... something...
In the Moooooorning...

"Where is Carolina, dear?" asked Irinia.

"There's a New Carolina off in the direction of the Galactic Center," came a voice from the cleanroom. "I don't know where Old Carolina is. "Your Legion really saved the day."

"It's not my Legion," said Irinia. "I'm just one of the Adult Advisors. And frankly, it's time for Arna to give up super-heroing and join the Adult Advisors as well."

"Do you miss it?" asked her husband.

"Not at all," said Irinia. "Playing at super-hero is a young person's game."

o o o

Roll Call, for those who are interested:

CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
THIRTY-FIVE YEARS INTO THE FUTURE
STAR-WOMAN
HE COMES BACK TO TELL ME HE'S GONE
https://youtu.be/r_KRHah4nbk

The anointing of a new High Seer is a planetwide holiday on Naltor. The observance has spread to New Titan, for although the High Seer is not technically a member of TitanGov, she is an important and influential personage in the Cassandran system.

Today, Kallor Nal was being appointed High Seer of Naltor. Her mother stood by proudly.

Her hair was more white than the platinum blonde Kallor remembered from her youth. "I will not live to see my ninetieth year," Nura Nal had confided in her daughter. "Now, now, I know what you will say: no Naltoran can foresee their own death. But we cannot see beyond it, either."

So the Council of Seers had appointed a new High Seer.

Look at me, thought Kallor Nal. The Seer who has everything.

The palace she had grown up in was now her personal property, with all its rooms and servants.

After setting the New Legion of Super-Heroes on its path to renown, she had returned to Naltor to serve as Planetary Champion. And Champion of New Titan as well. Honorary Planetary Champion of Xanthu. Happily, even ecstatically married, she looked out into the crowd for her husband and three daughters: one of whom would, herself, most likely become High Seer one day. Lauded and honored, respected and appreciated, by family, friends, and strangers, she had achieved everything she could have dreamed.

Except...

"Now is the time," said Genever, the White Djinn. "Your heart's desire was the hardest of all. And my powers can grant it only today, until sunrise tomorrow. But you will retain all your memories of this day."

Standing next to her mother now was Thom Kallor, her father. His hair was graying, but his face was still handsome.

A flood of memory washed over her. A moment's hesitation had resulted in his survival in the collapse of the Legion Clubhouse all those years ago. He had come to Naltor. He had been there at her birth.

Kallor had been raised by two loving parents. She had two younger siblings: a brother and sister. She remembered the whole family hiking in the woods. She remembered how her father taught them all the ancient art of fishing. Her mother found it revolting. She and her siblings laughed.

She remembered when her full powers manifest. How the Council of Seers determined that her Daxamite-like powers were spawned from the radiation of an electro-comet. There had been a concentrator built, to allow her to rapidly bring herself up to full strength-- without the necessity of flying out into intrastellar space. But the concentrator had no effect on her siblings, who had only precognitive and mass-inducing powers. Nor was it able to restore her father's superior abilities, which he had lost shortly after joining the Legion. He had moped around the house, depressed for days, until Kallor's mother was considering increasing the dosage of his medication.

Kallor had remained on Naltor; had never joined the Super-Hero Club. Her place was filled by one of the elemental Xeras of Manna-5, and the Club had been organized and incorporated under that planet's laws. They seemed to have done all right without her.

Kallor Nal, High Seer of Naltor, embraced her parents. They seemed a little taken aback.

"Let's not waste any of this day," she said. "Let's all stay up-- past midnight-- watch the sunrise, and go to breakfast together. All of us."

After the ceremony, the Royal Family-- parents, children, spouses, nieces and nephews-- did just that.

CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
NINETY-NINE YEARS INTO THE FUTURE
TEN
STONE COLD ZWEN
"Time goes by so slowly"
https://youtu.be/IYj2hex99gY




On the morning after hibernation, Meldi Cadena was always a little bit stiff. There was nothing to do but to walk it out.

Txalrz Luz 4523 was waiting for her about twenty minutes into her walk.

"Happy Wakeday, Desencadenada," said the Coluan.

"Good Morning, Z-Cubed," said Meldi. "Back so soon?"

"While you were sleeping," said Txarlz Luz, "I have grown up. Per Coluan law and tradition, I am now fully, chronologically an adult. Furthermore, I have graduated with my final degrees. And have begun my... I suppose you would call them postgraduate studies."

"And what are you doing here on Zwen?"

"I am here to ask you to marry me,” said Txalrz matter-of-factly. Should you accept, it is my plan that we can establish a permanent home together somewhere on Zwen."

Meldi leapt a few inches off the ground, and entwined her arms around Txarlz's neck. Her red lips brushed his green cheek.

"Oh, but there's one thing," she said, sobering. "It's cultural-- a kind of archaic tradition. You are supposed to ask my parents for their 'blessing' before you propose."

"Archaic, indeed," said Txarlz. "I would even say, an anachronism. But I have already spoken to your parents. Years ago, from my perspective. On the last day of Secondsummer, just before your people went into hibernation. Your father seems to think a Spring wedding would be appropriate, although your mother favors Autumn."

"Married. Us. How wonderful. But what will you do during Hibernation?" asked Meldi. “You can’t sleep with us. Can you?”

"I believe I shall be able to keep myself occupied," said Txarlz. "And as Zwenites do not age while petrified, I will return to find you as young and beautiful as ever."

"Wait... just how will you keep yourself occupied?" asked Meldi suspiciously.

"It is the most fascinating thing," said Txarlz. "Especially for an exobiologist, such as myself. Do you see these little plants, which have so recently sprung up?" Meldi noted the firstfig bushes, already at knee-height, and feathergrass flourishing in the hot sun. "These, of course, will die away after Secondsummer. But when the oceans evaporate," Txarx continued, "There is a xeric ecosystem which comes into existence. Plants and animals which grow, live their lives, and die in a single year. Not like the Thermoids of Mercury, these are true biologicals, adapted to the crushing heat at the other half of your year. This is the topic of my postdoctoral thesis."

"So, a year with me, and a year of solitude?" asked Meldi. "Uninterrupted study?"

"More than three years of study," said Txarlz. “And I may return to my assigned laboratory on Colu as well.”

"You'll have grown older every Wakeday," said Meldi.

"So it has always been," said Txarlz. "Have you not noticed? Yet we Coluans age much more gradually. Our lifespans, in fact, will closely align. In another hundred years-- from your perspective-- over four hundred years, from mine-- we will have grown old together."

"Is it true?" asked Meldi. "I had never thought of it. Zwen really is stuck in the past, in more ways than one. The United Planets moves into the future without us."

"In a sense," said Txarlz. "Dag Wentim, your elder statesman, is only a middle-aged man, despite spending two decades off-world. His childhood companions, the original Legion of Super-Heroes, are, for the most part, long gone."

"I suppose I should not be surprised you had thought this through," said Meldi.

"Indeed I have," said Txalrz Luz. "It has been my desire to bond once, and for the rest of my life, to someone extraordinary. And I have found you."

CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
BEYOND TIME
SATURN GIRL
QWARD
"To fight the unbeatable foe"
https://youtu.be/zbgTUwUP-ew

It was easiest when she was in astral form.

She was unable to feel the strokes of the lash tearing her skin. There were psychic shocks coming from her semi-comatose physical body, but they were relatively mild. Electronic pain-inducers were also attached, but they were not causing the sort physical damage the flogging was. Her back looked like bloody hamburger meat.

She couldn't stay out in astral form forever, though. The mental construction had to return before her physical body passed out, otherwise she might never wake.

To never wake. It was a tempting prospect.

For the next few days, there would be excruciating pain, but the torture would cease. They did not want to kill her, that much was clear. She would be allowed to rest, to eat, to recuperate, to heal, before the next round of torture began. She willed her consciousness back into her body.

It was like stepping into a bath of flaming oil.

Mercifully, it only lasted a few more minutes.

The old woman she had come to think of as "nurse" was busy applying salve when she woke up. The nurse did not speak-- it appeared that they were all forbidden to speak to her-- and wore a telepathy-suppressant helm, so that Dorrit was unable to read her thoughts. Dorrit herself had her legs chained to the floor, so that she could not stand, and her arms chained to the wall, so that she could neither lie down nor sit. Rather, she crouched, on aching, bloody knees.

"Nurse" had bandages, salves, and stinging disinfectant. She also had a large bowl of the thin, gray gruel that was Dorrit's only sustenance in this place. It took the better part of an hour to get it down her throat. "Nurse" stopped feeding her as Dorrit started to gag. Shortly, Dorrit was left alone.

She was truly alone in this dungeon. There were not even insects or vermin. There was no guard visible outside the iron door. It was cold-- so cold she shivered, but it was also numbing to her bruised and broken skin.

"What do they want?"

The woman had not been there before.

"What do they want, you must be asking yourself. Why the torture? What can you say or do to make them stop?"

She was exotically beautiful. Young, smooth-skinned, a complexion a white as mother-of-pearl. Thick, luxurious black hair flowed down to her ankles. Her eyebrows were arched, and lightly pointed. Her eyes dark, and deep-set.

"There is nothing, my child. Nothing at all you can do. They beat and whip and torture you, not to gain any information, but because you are their plaything. They are very good at what they do, and it will probably be a long time before they go too far, and you are lost to them forever."

"Who are you?" croaked Dorrit. She had not spoken in a very long time. Her voice was weak, cracked and dusty, the voice of an old woman. Dorrit looked up at her hands. They were smooth, straight, and unwrinkled. No, she was not an old woman yet.

The woman smoothed her elegant black satin dress. "I am your Queen," she answered.

"They call me Daughter of the Black Galaxy, and Daughter of the Black Stars, but I am no one's daughter. They call me Theriona, Mother of Demons, and The Great Evil Beast. And I suppose I am, in a way. You might have heard me called The Ultimate Evil, The Great Darkness, The Ultimate Darkness. But here, in this place, you may call me God." She swept her arms about theatrically.

"Yes, that all-powerful, all-knowing, loving God you have heard of... has given me this little multiverse to play in, uninhibited, unhindered, and unsupervised. I am the God of these little worlds, and you have met a few of my lesser acolytes. They have entertained you long enough. I thought it was time we met in person."

They were in a palatial room of white and red marble, heavily accented with gold. Dorrit sat on a divan, with the softest, most comfortable pillows. She was wearing a simple white gown.

"I've healed all your wounds. You are as strong and healthy now as when you first arrived here."

The Ultimate Darkness sat nearby, across from Dorrit, on a low throne of understated elegance. There was a plate of fruit between them, from which the Daughter of the Black Stars was choosing samples.

"You see," said The Mother of Demons, smiling, "Your friend Genever, the White Djinn, determined that your heart's desire was to do battle with the Ultimate Evil. And here I am." Her smile broadened. "So far, I'm winning."

Dorrit looked at the plate of fruit longingly: grapes, lychee, strawberries, and some others he did not recognize. She had not eaten anything but thin gray gruel for as long as she could remember.

"Oh, I know it's stereotypical," said The Great Darkness, "The Serpent offering forbidden fruit. But it is only forbidden because you refuse to worship me. I cease to forbid it, just for now. No consequences for partaking. Help yourself. My treat."

Dorrit took a lychee. It was beyond delicious.

"You see, I can be trusted,” saiad the Queen. “Oh, let's do something interesting. Why don't we make a wager? I'll pull my whole self into this avatar. We can have one, last decisive battle between us. I'll even make myself human. And only a tiny bit stronger and faster than you. If you can kill me, I'll die. Really die. Send my soul down to sleep in the deepest, furthest Hell I have available. All my power will go to you, and you can rule these Universes as their new Goddess as you see fit until you tire of it. And if you lose... no, no change! No downside! I won't even ask you to sell your soul. Just for the pure fun of it! I'll even let you read my mind, to let you know I'm playing fair."

Dorrit gazed into deep, dark eyes and found herself lost in Eternity. Stars and planets formed and died. Living beings thrived and suffered-- but mostly suffered. A malevolence filled universe after universe, rejoicing in sorrow and misery. But this God was bored, ready to set herself against the one creature from another Universe that was outside her power. And the promise was the promise of a God.

"That was quick." It had seemed like more than one forever to Dorrit. She looked down, and saw that she was now dressed in her gold-and-green Saturn Girl costume, but with a more tailored and military cut. Sabers suddenly appeared in the hands of both women.

"En garde," said Theriona. "Oh, but I see you have no training in the art of dueling. Very well."

A complete knowledge of the art of swordplay filled Dorrit's mind. The battle was on.

Dorrit was sorely pressed. Her opponent was strong, and quick, and scored the first touch, ripping Dorrit's uniform at the shoulder. It was over in less than a dozen strokes. As one blade rebounded off the other, Dorrit's left arm was badly gashed. But in that moment she saw an opening. She slashed upwards, hitting the Queen on the neck. The blade continued through, and a beautiful head hit the floor like a cabbage. The body slumped, and followed its head down.

Dorrit was bleeding badly, from deep cuts on her arm and shoulder. She also felt blood trickle down one cheek. But all around her, the Universe prepared to deliver her power. Omnipotence. Omniscience. Knowledge flowed into her. And she remembered this was not the first time the God of Evil had tricked her.

Queen Theriona picked up her head, and placed it back on her shoulders. She laughed, not a pleasant sound. "Oh, this is my favorite part," she crowed. "When you realize that I lied, just as I have lied all those times before. And you always, always fall for it."

Dorrit was chained again in the dungeon. Her body was still strong and healthy, however. Even her shoulder and forearm had been healed. But the white-skinned, black-haired woman was there as well.

"This is today's torturer," she said. "Do you recognize her?" A red-haired women in a gold-and-green military uniform came in through the iron door. "She's you! All you, down to the self-righteous certainty that she is right, and you are irredeemably. And she is going to get into your mind, and do her best to turn to her way of thinking. It will, of course, be painful. But that's the point, isn't it?"

As the sound of mocking laughter faded, the two Dorrits faced one another. Again.

Me reading the last few posts: this is neat, the new Legion are really cool and there's some bittersweet happenings and nice whimsy and whatnot

Me reading Dorrit's story:

CHAPTER SEVENTY
MORNING
“You had a dream, I had one too”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TXbHShUnwxY

"Did you all have the same dream I did?" asked Ffiona. Ffarrah and Ffey nodded.

"We were together?" asked Chameleon.

"Yes," said Ffarrah. "I just... can't quite remember how."

"Not the particulars," said Ffey. "But we were back on Carggg. The four of us. And welcomed there."

"Back on the Farm," asked Cosmic Boy. "And is that what you really want, too?" He asked Lightning Lass.

"Oh, yes, of course, eventually," said Lightning Lass. "Although there are other things I'd like to do first. Is that what you want?"

"My heart's desire," said Cosmic Boy, smiling. "Is to spend the rest of my life with you."

"What do you remember?" asked Korvea.

"Heroism," said Mighty Lad. "I was a super-hero for many years. And I eventually got married to... someone. Had a lot of kids, I think. But eventually, I was cured, and returned to Rokyn."

"Yes..." said Korvea. "It was much the same for me. I was Talok's Planetary Champion, I think. And there was more..."

Genever, the White Djinn, without warning or introduction, appeared in the midst of them.

“Is this what human dreaming is like?” asked Ten. “Coluans ‘dream’ after a fashion, but it is merely the examination and removal of useless data fragments devoid of context.”

“It’s just… yes, generally,” Phantom Girl declared. “But humans remember their dreams, and assign meaning… byt the details are sometimes vague. Half-remembered, and fading.”

Shrinking Violet nodded assent. “It is the same with the Krill.”

“I remember it all,” said Saturn Girl, looking around at the others. “Distinctly. Every detail.” She turned to the White Djinn. “Make our dreams come true.”

Here are some characters which I discovered which I am never going to use.
They are just too overpowered.




Jimmyboy:
Created by one of Earth’s great Android Masters, Jimmyboy can morph into any of the transformations experienced by the 20th-century Jimmy Olsen.
He currently resides on the planet Calyx (Action Comics #320).




The Ultimate Bizarro:
While studying Bizarro-duplicating technology (created on Earth, Krypton, and possibly other planets independently), Dr. Ray Chiunque was caught in an accident which left him with the ability to temporarily transform into a Bizarro-duplicate of any living creature he has encountered.
His default form is Bizarro-human-like, and is known as Bizarro Ray. In all his forms, he is made of non-living matter, and does not require food, air, or water.





Wildfrost:
A being of unknown origins. His body (or, perhaps, its body) is composed of pure negative anti-energy, and can only survive in a special containment suit. He generally utilizes darkness and cold-based attacks.
However, he is actually capable of nullifying or neutralizing any form of energy. Such efforts may drain his substance, but he will slowly regenerate.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
Myosotis sylvatica

“My name is Henry Pootel,” said Henry Pootel. “It’s a literary reference.”



Gamorrean Dwarves are called Toves, another literary reference. Seldom topping a meter-and-a-half, they tended to be farmers and shopkeepers. Full Gamorreans, of course, were highly prized throughout the United Planets as guards and mercenaries.

“You know me, Henry,” said Pol Krinn II. “I come by a couple of times a year.”

“Sorry, you humans all look alike to me,” said Henry Pootel. “What can I do for you?”

“My father has a shipment of a hundred kilos of slug-salt on backorder,” said Pol. “He said if I came by Gamorrhea in person you would let me pick it up and take it back to Winath myself.”

“No refunds on shipping costs,” Henry Pootel reminded him.

Of course not, thought Pol. But time is money, and Lightning Ring Farms could not wait for the Toves to decide when it was convenient for them to ship.

Wrapping a steel chain around the four bags of slug-salt, Pol magnetically carried the stuff back to his private cruiser. It was terribly inefficient to use the cruiser as a delivery truck, but Pol had been passing through the Tellarite Federation anyway, so this was only a small detour.

Gamorrhea was a world of mud pits and cabbage fields, at least around Starport City and the Trading Post. Pol had only a vague idea what the rest of the planet looked like. Polymer domes and camouflage holos covered the inhabited sections of the world. The seas were mottled chartreuse and teal, presumably from some local algal lifeforms.

Pol had come to grudgingly admire the Gamorreans. If they had a racial characteristic, it was patience. They were able to tirelessly focus on a single task, which made them great guards. They did not get bored. Some people opined that it was because there were so few thoughts in their heads to distract them. But Gamorreans-- especially the Toves-- were also great mimics, and that took intelligence. Henry Pootel’s demeanor, and probably name itself, would change when waiting upon the Aellans who had been in line behind Pol. He would become the embodiment of Aellan customs and manners and mores, but just alien enough to remind his customers he was a Tove.

“LEGIONNAIRE!” Pol was accosted by a golden-skinned pig-man, taller and broader than any Gamorrean.

“Not a Legionnaire,” Pol corrected him. “Just a member of the Super-Hero Club. Of Mars. Sol system.”

“Be that as it may,” said the pig-man. “I am Kairlios of Bolograx, and Bolograx needs your help.”



The Tove cafes scattered around the Trading Post had no menus.

A server brought out two intricately carved small wooden troughs, filled with some sort of steaming hot thick soup or stew. The base was a tasteless sort of grain, in appearance a cross between rice and lentils. Thumb-sized portions of unidentifiable soft vegetables, or possibly meat, were scattered throughout the dish. There was a large breaded fish filet of some kind stuck in one side of the bowl. Kairlios used the filet as a sort of spoon to scoop up the stew; Pol followed suit.

The Bolograxxan had insisted they talk over a meal, but very little talking had been done so far, only prolonging Pol’s curiosity.

Kairlios tipped up the bowl, and drained the dregs of the stew.

“Nine hundred years ago,” he began, “Our race was formed from the union of the last survivors of two extinct worlds. Kilowog was a Green Lantern from a world called Bolovax Vik, Arissia Rrab was a Star Sapphire from a world called Graxos Four. Each was the last of their race. They were colleagues, then friends, then lovers. Each had tried to save, and later rebuild their worlds. Each had failed. Together, aided by the emerald light of the Green Lanterns, and the violet light of the Star Sapphires, they brought into being their children, we Bolograxxans, a genetic fusion of both races, born of Will and Love.
“They found a suitable world orbiting the star Khinzir. Our people were welcomed by the Tellarite Federation, and were founding members of the United Planets.
“You object, I think. You have never heard of the Bolograxxans. My appearance is unfamiliar to you. Yet all I have told you is true.”
"You simply do not remember. Almost no one remembers."

Kairlios grasped Pol’s hands in his large golden fists.

“I am a physical being,” he insisted, almost desperately. “An instantiation of flesh and bone, as are my people and my planet, only a few parsecs from here.
"But we now find ourselves unable to communicate with much of the United Planets. We lost contact with Weber’s World years ago. Even the nearby worlds of the Tellarite Federation are beginning to absent-mindedly forget us. Tellar Prime, Gamorr, World 318, and the others.
"We believe that something has happened to the energies which created us. They are… attenuating, perhaps, after all these centuries. We are becoming less… real.
"We are unable to communicate-- or even exist-- outside a small and shrinking sphere. Ambassadors which we have sent out to the greater United Planets have vanished. We have heard reports of our ships floating empty, unmanned in space.
“When we learned you were passing through Tellarite space, we were hoping you could be the hero who could rescue us. The Super Hero Club of Mars is well-known and well respected throughout the United Planets. You must be able to communicate our need. Contact Weber’s World, or Oa, or the Sorcerer’s World. Someone who can strengthen our grip on reality. Perhaps even the Controllers, or the Luck Lords of Ventura.”

“I will do what I can,” said Cosmic Boy. “My powers are less ‘cosmic’ than my name implies, but the Super Hero Club will help you as best we are able.”

“And quickly,” said the big man. “We do not know when we might fade away completely.”

The ship entered the Amartan system and fell out of hyperdrive over the planet Winath. The Autopilot put the ship into an available orbit.

Pol was occupied in the Cleanroom, working through the unfortunate consequences of his lunch. The autofresheners were working overtime.

“Why did I go to that Tove cafe for lunch?” he asked himself out loud, in between groans. “Never again." But wasn’t there something… some reason I was there? he thought to himself. Oh, well, it must not be important, if I can’t remember

I had ChatGPT write a little vignette for me…

Dorrit, Dacey, and Pol were all close friends, despite the fact that they were from different families on Lightning Ring Farms. They spent most of their days exploring the vast fields and forests that surrounded their farm, always on the lookout for new adventures.

One day, they decided to go on a hike through the nearby mountains. As they trekked through the rugged terrain, they came across a beautiful waterfall that cascaded down the rocks. They spent hours playing in the cool water, splashing each other and laughing.

As the day began to wane, they decided to head back to the farm. Along the way, they came across a field of wildflowers that stretched as far as the eye could see. Dorrit and Dacey, both with their telepathic abilities, marveled at the beauty of the flowers and tried to connect with them. Pol, with his magnetic abilities, tried to control the metal objects around them.

As they made their way back to the farm, they were greeted by the warm glow of the setting sun. They were tired, but happy from their day of adventure. They went to bed that night, dreaming of the many other adventures that awaited them on the farm.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
Myosotis Sylvatica Certus

THREE YEARS LATER
Five months before the wedding of Pol Hu Krin II and Dacey Ardeen Ranzz on Amarta, a very different wedding was being held on the planet Daxam.

Daxamite weddings are highly elaborate affairs, often with hundreds of guests. The bride and groom dress in magnificent, voluminous rainbow-colored wedding garb, with complicated headdresses the size of Christmas trees, each unique, each lovingly ornamented by the extended family.

At the Wedding Site stand three pyramids, each five stories tall. The bride ascends one pyramid, as the groom ascends another. They then shout the name of their betrothed from the top of each pyramid. The bride and groom then descend, then climb the center pyramid together, where they are met by one of the local Voices of Sard, who unites the couple in matrimony in the sight of all assembled..

Zhaola Gand stood on the top of her matrimonial pyramid, and called her beloved’s name.

“Loah-Ab Maal! Loah-Ab Maal!”

But there was no answering reply. She looked towards Loah-Ab’s pyramid. He was not there. He was late. He was very late. The guests began to drift away. He was not coming.

Zhaola found her betrothed at her sister Folehna's place. It was all very sordid.This was followed by weeks of depression for Zhaola and the wedding of Loah-Ab and Folehna.

She wished them all the happiness in the world, and she meant it. But her heart was shattered.

Get up. Go to work. Come home. Go to bed. The meaningless, repeating pattern was broken when the she-wolf appeared at her door.

She was not a real wolf, but an alien of lupine appearance. She offered a violet ring and lantern.

“Zhaola Gand, you have great love in your heart. Welcome to the Star Sapphires.”

o o o

ONE MORE YEAR LATER
LIGHTNING RING FARMS, WINATH

Pol startled awake.

“What’s the matter?” asked his wife, alarmed.

“I forgot!” said Pol. “I can’t believe I forgot!”

“Forgot what?” mumbled Dacey, still half asleep.

“Bolograxx,” said Pol. “It’s a planet, part of the Tellarite Confederation. They need our help. Or, they needed our help. But somehow… I forgot about them.”

Violet light filled the room. The strange woman in the midst of it was seriously underdressed.

Dacey was completely awake now.

“Bolograxx is fine. I am Zhaola Gand, a Star Sapphire. After I found Bolograxx, I enlisted the aid of Algolla Drang, the Langstromite Green Lantern. Together, we placed a Green Power Battery and Violet Power Battery on Bolograxx, which will maintain their continued existence. Now if you will excuse me, I have several other individuals whose minds I need to calm who have suddenly remembered they were asked for help over the years.”

“You know the strangest people,” observed Dacey Krinn.

“I don’t know,” mused Pol. “Maybe we should put the Tellarite Confederation on our list of vacation destinations.”

CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE
THE COMING OF THE PHANTOM CATS

Passing through the Buffer Zone gave Dorrit a headache.

“I hear voices… so many voices,” said the Super-Hero Club’s Saturn Girl.

“It’s not surprising,” Irinia Apero replied. “Since Bgztlrs developed their phasing ability, there have been a number of our people who have phased into the Phantom Zone to escape death. No one knows how many. But my grandmother was a Thanataphobe.”

“I would think nearly everyone…” Saturn Girl began.

“Not as many as you would think,” said Phantom Girl. “There is a strong cultural taboo against it; we Bgztlrs are taught to accept death as a natural part of life. Also, people who are threatened with death from injury or chronic ailments spend their time in the Zone in unending pain. So it’s usually the elderly, dying of natural causes, and even they are often tempted to come back and visit their descendants. People usually only end up extending their life a few years using the Zone. But a few become permanent residents.”

“And animals,” said Saturn Girl. “I felt animal minds in the Zone.”

“Well, the Bgztlr Ghost Dove is pretty much the only native creature that accesses the Zone on a regular basis. They use it for hunting, and avoiding predators. Other animals either don’t have the ability or interest. Our biologists are often surprised when they find some new animal that does. It’s pretty rare… about as rare as parthenogenesis in higher mammals, I would guess.”

“And cats,” said Saturn Girl. “I do sense cats.”

“And that,” said Phantom Girl. “Is exactly why we are here.”

Ambassador Zhavby greeted the Members at Fgklv Patop City, the Planetary Capital of Bgztl.

“Kryptonian cats,” he said. “What do you know about the history of ancient Krypton?”

“Chel or Eulia would be better people to ask,” remarked Saturn Girl.

“Who?” the Ambassador inquired.

“Our members Mighty Lad and Shrinking Violet,” said Phantom Girl. “Both students of history.”

“Well,” said Ambassador Zhavby. “Over a thousand years ago, the planet Krypton appropriated a portion of the Buffer Zone as a prison for their worst criminals. Some were sentenced for only a few years, some for centuries. While this did remove these criminals from society, it was far from an ideal solution, and there were evidently objectors and reformers in Kryptonian society. There was a period when it was thought that providing the “Phantom Zone criminals” with companionship other than other criminals could be beneficial. In accordance with this, some in the Zone were provided with pets-- cats, to be specific.”
“The phasing of these animals into the Zone was disorienting and traumatic. They became feral, wild, and uncontrollable. Not bound to their masters, they roamed the Zone freely, lost and disoriented. Over the centuries, some were detected as much as hundreds of parsecs from Krypton. When their ‘masters’ fulfilled their sentences and were released, their pets were often nowhere to be found. We are asking you to join a task force to rescue and return those cats still roaming the Zone.”

“How will we know when we have found them all?” asked Saturn Girl.

“We have already inventoried the Zone,” said Ambassador Zhavby. “Let me introduce you to the Task Force we have already assembled.” He pressed a button on his desk and a door slid open. A dozen Bgzltr SP officers entered the room. There was also a Bokkite Saturnian woman, and a dark-haired girl in a colorful costume of hot pink-and-turquoise.

“This is Jawhara of New Titan, Earthside, an experienced telepath,” said Ambassador Zahvby. “And this is Vqzga Gzxbp, our own YKtzopok Girl. The planet Yzopok is in approximately the same area in the Bgztlr system as your planet Saturn is Earthside. There is something about that region of space, in both dimensions, that encourages development of mental powers.”

“Jawhara and I have determined that there are fewer than one hundred feline mind-signatures throughout the Zone,” Yzopok Girl explained. “As they are recovered, the numbers will become more certain. Those recovered from the Zone will be given a new home on Planet M-Thirty-Omega, a red-sun world where a mammaloid similar to the Terran or Kryptonian housecat is the dominant species,” added Yzopok Girl.

Ambassador Zhavgy produced two small lighted pyramids. “We are placing these psionic homing beacons on Bgztl and M-Thirty-Omega. Those who enter the Buffer Zone gain telepathic powers, so this will aid you in navigating the Zone. Each of you will also be provided with a bracelet which is also connected to the homing beacon.”


THE TENTH CAT

The Phantom Zone appeared to be coextensive with the Bgztlrside and Earthside Galaxies. Either that, or there was some sort of impenetrable barrier that marked the edges of the Galaxies. This reduced the search area to only a couple of trillion cubic parsecs.

Saturn Girl found her telepathic abilities substantially magnified in the Zone. Once Yzopok Girl had shown her how to identify the telepathic signature of the Kryptonian cats, they shone like tiny, bright lights in the purple-grey Buffer Zone sky

The searchers found it easiest to split up to find the cats. The Zone granted abilities which were mastered quickly. Saturn Girl found she could fly anywhere in the expanse at the speed of thought. Unfortunately, the cats could do the same. But she, Yzopok Girl, and Jawhara taught the Bgztlr SPs how to construct psionic nets to contain their targets. Then it was a matter of pinpointing the M-Thirty-Omega beacon, and taking the cats out of the Zone. Saturn Girl and Jawhara needed the help of a Bgztlr in leaving the Zone, so long-distance communication was an established need.

The work had gone quickly. There were only a couple of dozen cats left. Saturn Girl found nine herself. She chose one new bright light, checked to see no one else was targeting it, and flew / teleported across the Zone.

The Kryptonian cats were not entirely identical to Terran cats. This one was oddest of all: it had a neck-ruff that reminded Saturn Girl of a lion, but only the size of a housecat. It’s eyes were large, and intelligent-looking.

“{Hello, Saturn Girl},” said the cat. “{But you are not from Saturn, are you? Where is Why-Noth?}” The little lion-cat vanished. Saturn Girl scanned the Zone, and found the same bright pinpoint of light.

“{You are different},” said Saturn Girl. “{Different from the others in the Zone I have met.}”

“{Curious as a cat, you are},” said the cat. “{A few of us were once released into a goldstar world. When we were returned to the Zone, we lost most of our super-abilities, but retained our enhanced intelligence. Good-bye..}” The little lion-cat vanished again.

Saturn Girl scanned to Zone again. There was no trace of the spark she had recognized earlier. Perhaps it was blocking its thoughts? Saturn Girl concentrated, and looked harder. She found a flicker of cat-mind.

“{Can’t you just leave me alone}?” asked the cat. “{Why are you and your friends herding cats anyway?.}”

“{Don’t you want to leave the Zone}?” asked Saturn Girl. “{Return to a material existence in a material world?}”

“{The problem with advanced intelligence},” said the cat, “{Is that one gains an appreciation of one’s mortality. Why should I leave the Zone and live a brief life on some strange world, spending my time catching and eating vermin? When I can explore countless worlds for countless eons to come? We cats do have an insatiable curiosity, you know.}”

“{I see the issue},” said Saturn Girl. “{Will you come with me while I discuss this with my teammates? And not hide yourself?}”

“{For now},” said the cat, “{I can’t make any promises about the future.}”

“{My name is Dorrit Ranzz},” said Saturn Girl. “{What should I call you?}”

“{What is it with you humans?},” asked the cat.. “{Everything has to have a name. But I suppose you can call me Dhiviao Khahp.}”

They arrived at the location in the Phantom Zone which corresponded to Planet M-Thirty-Omega. Phantom Girl, Yzopok Girl, Jawhara, and all the SPs were already there. There were also two other phantom cats, neither of which resembled Dhiviao Khahp, and an elderly woman Dorrit did not recognize.

“{Well met by moonlight, brethren},” said Dhiviao Khahp.

“{Pretentious twit},” said one of the cats. The other sniffed, and turned its tail.

“{As I was telling your friends},” said the old woman to Saturn Girl, “{I can take care of my kittens.}”

“{This is Elinya, a Bgztlr Thanataphobe},” said Yzopok Girl.

“{I resent the characterization},” the old woman remarked.

“{At any rate, she has been caring for these cats for centuries},” said Tzopok Girl. Saturn Girl noted the three cat’s tails twitched in unison. “{And has assured us she can continue to take care of them. After all, there are only three.}”

“{Bgztl has taken responsibility for the Buffer Zone in the U.P.},” said one of the Science Police, “{I don’t need to tell you what havoc might result if even one of these Kryptonian cats were released on a goldstar world again.}”

“{We will behave ourselves. Won’t we, brethren},” said Dhiviao Khahp.

The other two cats were silent.

“{Very well, but the Bgztlr Science Police will continue to monitor the situation},” said another SP. “{These are the last Phanty-Cats in the Zone.}”

“{I don’t see what all the worry is},” said Elinya. “{My kittens haven’t been any problem to anyone in all the centuries I’ve known them.}”

[b]CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR
SPACE FEUD

At times it was useful to have a portable command base orbiting some local assignment, rather than simply using the Pentachoron. Thus the Super-Hero Club had liquidated some “gifts” and purchased a restored Mark 10 Legion Class Mini-Cruiser, which they had named the Venturer.

Lightning Lass and Shrinking Violet were reviewing the day’s activities on Planet Verktyg far below.

“The Tophleghites are absolutely intractable,” Lightning Lass declared. “Not even membership in the U.P. will make them stand down.”

“The same is true of the inhabitants of the Odmurean continent,” Shrinking Violet said. “They present as a horde of noseless, pale-skinned barbarians. In the meantime, thousands die every year in bombing raids, and millions live in rotating refugee camps that move from one semi-safe spot to another.”

Lightning Lass nodded. “And there is the constant threat that one side or another will launch intercontinental nuclear weapons at some slight escalation of the conflict.”

“At least I learned,” said Shrinking Violet, “That the ultimate source of the conflict is a religious one. Each continent is inhabited by a majority of one of two religions. But so far I have been unable to tease out the doctrinal differences between the two. Both nominally follow the teachings in the Second Book of Zarquod, and consider the First Book of Zarquod heresy. In fact, they both call him the “false Zarquod” in the native language. I have been listening to sermons by preachers on both sides, and they even seem to rely on the same passages, and understand the same verses in an identical manner.”

“I saw engraved on several Tophleighite buildings a reference to II Zarquod 53:35,” said Lightning Lass. “I had to look it up in the database to verify exactly what it said.”

“Be gentle and courteous in disagreements with your friends and with your enemies, considering that you yourself may be in the wrong. If you are in the right, the Heavens will bless you; if you are wrong you may apologize in the future without embarrassment.”

“Of course, the Tophleighites say that does not apply to the Odmureans, as they themselves are cruel and discourteous.”

“And the Odmureans,” said Shrinking Violet, “Give the same opinion. I don’t see why the UP thinks that ‘heroes’ like us can succeed where their own ambassadors have failed.”

“Because so many have done it before,” said Lightning Lass. “Beginning with my Aunt Lluornu. But how to end a war that has lasted hundreds of years, where both sides are so entrenched… well, I have no idea.”

“Let’s switch teams tomorrow,” said Shrinking Violet. “I’ll take the Tophleighites, and you go talk to the Odmureans.”

o o o

The Odmurean General looked just like his Tophleighite counterpart, as far as Lightning Lass could tell. Tall, slender, and birdlike, with a tuft of scraggly feathers. There was a little child with him, looking beaten and emaciated.

“This is an example of Tophleighite cruelty,” said the General. “This child is an orphan, living with distant relatives in a refugee camp, his village recently destroyed by merciless attacks. This is why we keep on fighting. For our Freedom!”

“Do you want revenge for your parent’s deaths?” Lightning Lass asked the little child.

The orphan nodded, then said, “I just want the fighting to stop.” He looked at the General with some trepidation, afraid he had said something wrong.

“The child does not understand…” the General was saying.

Another member of the Council-- this one a Cleric of some kind-- entered the room, flustered and late. He took one look at Lightning Lass and gasped.

“This is not the one from yesterday,” said the Cleric.

“No,” said the General. “Yesterday she was meeting in the Tophleigh capital.”

“But they… “ the Cleric rushed out of the room, and returned with an old, tattered book.

“II Zarquod 24:7-8,” He said.
“And I will send you two teachers, before I come again, and you will listen to their words as though they were my own prophecies. And you will recognize them by their plumage, for one shall be black as smoke, and the other as red as fire.”
“And your lands will find peace and prosperity, your fields will produce in abundance, and none shall leave the nest of his childhood, nor wander alone as a stranger.”

“You and your companion must remain, and serve as our High Judges,” said the Cleric. “And bring to pass the Paradise Zarquod promised before his return.”

“Why me?” said Lightning Lass. “Why us? Why not ask this little orphan boy to be your judge, who only wants peace and quiet, an end to the war, a stable home and a full belly.”

The Cleric nearly trembled. “II Zarquod 24:42,” He read. “Are you unable to judge in the smallest matters? Rather appoint an innocent child as your Judge, for the foolishness of love and humility is greater than the wisdom of learning and guile.”

o o o

“You’ll never believe what happened,” said Shrinking Violet.

“II Zarquod 24:7?” asked Lightning Lass.

“They want us to stay at least forty days, in order to realign the government and oversee the disarmament,” Shrinking Violet reported. “I’ll send a message to Polar Lass that we are going to be delayed.”

“I think,” said Lightning Lass, “We should request a contingent of legal scholars and diplomats to assist us in rebuilding. From Dollworld, if possible.”

CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE
A FAREWELL TO FRIENDS




“Ten, we have entered the San Shimai System,” said Korvea.

The little Coluan sat motionless, unresponsive.

“Ten, we need the monitor screen,” said Korvea. “We will be dropping into Cargggan orbit soon.”

“He’s meditating,” said Ffiona. “Let him. We can contact the Spaceport Authority on our ‘phones.”

“I think it is unprofessional and unhelpful,” Korvea complained.

“I sometimes think we made a mistake,” said Ffiona, “Allowing someone so young onto the team. But he was one of the founders-- back when the Super-Hero Club was just a dream.”

“The Spaceport Authority has contacted us,” said Ffarrah. “They will be sending a null-grav shuttle to dock with us, and bring us down to the planet.”

“I’m a little nervous,” said Ffey.

“So this is it.” said Korvea. “You have said your farewells. You are leaving.”

"We're leaving," said Ffiona.

"With the Super-Hero Club, we've done,” said Chameleon “More than we thought we would ever do."
He was dressed in a masculine version of the Triplicate’s tunic and cape-- something of a cultural costume on Carggg.

"We will be in time for the Feast of Ve Lar," Ffey told Korvea.

"A great celebration," said Chameleon. "Held for three days every three years. A time to remember family, and reach out to friends. A time of feasting and thanksgiving."

"And a time to ask for and receive forgiveness," said Ffarrah. "It is said that one who begs forgiveness on the second day of the Feast of Ve Lar must be accepted."

"You are trying to reconcile with your family?" asked Korvea.

"And we will be introducing Chameleon to them as well," said Ffiona. "And hoping for… acceptance."

The null-grav shuttle arrived. Chameleon and the Triplicates boarded the driverless vehicle, and began the slow, controlled fall to the planet’s surface.

"Guess who's coming to dinner?" mused Korvea.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX
THE FLOWER COLLECTOR

Matter-Eater Lad Junior and Polar Lass had been left to tend the Clubhouse together alone, with the exception of the Circadians manning the Pentachoron.

“You can call me Joy, the Jolly Lama,” said the clown-faced girl. “I’m a Poglachian.”

“It says here,” said Polar Lass, consulting her ‘phone, “That Poglachians are a Class-A Alien threat, and we could be breaking UP law just by talking to you.”

The Jolly Lama could scarcely have looked less threatening. Under four feet tall, she had climbed out of a little car half her size that had suddenly appeared on a walkway in front of the Clubhouse.

“Don’t panic,” she said. “I’ve got a Visitor’s Passport from Weber’s World.” She held up the little holo-card with the flag and official insignia of the United Planets. A holo of Joy herself, and the words ‘Mostly Harmless’ were printed in large, friendly letters.

“Poglachians are Maltusian emigrants, of the same racial stock as the Guardians, Zamarons, and Controllers. Like all our cousins, we have a degree of telekinetic ability, though most of the Poblachians use their abilities for frivolous and fatuous entertainments. I am something of a rebel, and seek to use my powers for more serious and heroic pursuits.”

“But you still wear the odd face make-up of your culture,” noted Polar Lass.

“I don’t want to not be a Poglachian,” said the Jolly Lama. “I want to reform things from the inside, to be an example to others of what we can be if we really try.”

“So you are applying to become a member of the Super-Hero Club?” asked Matter-Eater Lad Junior. “You could have applied at our site on the Intergalactic Web.”

There was a disturbance as two Science Police vehicles flew over the Clubhouse.

Suddenly, not far away, a strange tower shot up from the ground, demolishing one of the SP flyers. An immense sequoia redwood, over one hundred meters tall, now stood just north of the Clubhouse.

“I’ll see if there are any survivors,” said Polar Lass, rising into the air. “Hil, you check out what- or who- the SPs are fighting.”

“I… um… maybe I should come back another time?” stammered the Jolly Lama, scurrying toward her peculiar little vehicle. It flickered and vanished with a pop.

Matter-Eater Lad Junior headed north, to where the remaining SP vehicle had landed. It was buried beneath a tangled heap of twisting red vines. The young Bismollian attacked the vines immediately, biting and chewing his way to the ship beneath. The vines were tough and chewy, and grew back at an incredible rate. Hillary was making little progress.

The sky split open in a ragged green slash. The members of the New Justice League of Earth came pouring out into the Martian sky.


“Stand down, Bismollian,” shouted Dr. Shakespeare. “That is Crimson Tanglethorn, from the forests of Daxam. I doubt you will make much headway. Let the League take care of this.”

The Cyborg Manhunter produced a squarish lantern of green metal, seemingly out of thin air, and its emerald radiation slowly disintegrated the plant. Two grateful SP’s emerged, just as Polar Lass was descending with two more from the tops of the giant conifer. With a nod from Dr. Shakespeare, the seven Leaguers and the four SPs took off over a low hill to the north.

“They weren’t very grateful for my rescue,” said Polar Lass. “Just sent an SOS to Earth for backup.”

“Well, they got it,” said Matter-Eater Lad Junior. “The whole Justice League, here on Mars again. What’s over that hill, an alien invasion?”

The woman called Rush came flying backwards from over the dune, limbs splayed at awkward angles, and landed unconscious at the feet of Polar Lass.

“She looks badly injured,” said Kylda. “I’ll call Emergency in New Metropolis, and you go and see what’s going on over there.”

Without hesitation, Matter-Eater Lad Junior lifted his flight ring and rose into the air, heading north.

The four SP officers were standing in a group, shocked. Hillarie recognized the diminutive Plover Zegg, Officers Howard and Jerome, as well as a tall, broad, turban-clad SP who must be new to the force.

Doctor Shakespeare was lying unconscious on the ground, surrounded by a glowing red mist.

Jordana Gardner and the Cyborg Manhunter were also incapacitated, trembling and occasionally vomiting.

Devil-Fish and Princess Xenobia were bound with the same Crimson Tanglethorn that had immobilized the SP vessel. The Princess’ sword lay useless in the sand, a few feet away.

Only the Bat-Woman of Pluto was still standing. She was facing off against a hefty man in later middle-age, dressed all in green, with long, stringy gray-green hair. In one hand he held a mass of some kind of seaweed.

“Please don’t make me eat more of this sauncha,” the older man was saying. “I can already feel it affecting my reason, and I really don’t want to hurt you.”

The mysterious Bat-Woman said nothing, but suddenly crumpled to the ground, joining her companions.

“A psionic attack?” said the older man. “That was a mistake. I have a special affinity with the plant world, and my little friends will not allow me to come to harm.” He stepped aside, showing a small garden of martian Zo’Ok, in a small cave facing the sea. “All I ask is that you let me take one of you with me,” he said, addressing the little yellow octagonal flowers.

“No!” shouted Officer Howard. “He must not be allowed to acquire even one of those flowers!”

“Why not?” asked Matter-Eater Lad Junior. “Chameleon wore a Zo’Ok for several months, only returning it to this cave garden when he left for Carggg.”

“This man,” said Officer Howard, “Is a person of interest in a number of botanical thefts across the Galaxy. We have orders to bring him in for questioning.”

“Tenzil?” asked the older man, apparently noticing Matter-Eater Lad Junior for the first time. “Tenzil, old friend, you… what has happened to you? You look so young.”

“I am not Tenzil Kem,” said Matter-Eater Lad Junior. “Although also a Bismollian. My name is Hillarie Norjay, but no relation to Mr. Kem. Please, can you just talk with the SPs?”

“The sauncha…” sighed the sage-haired man. “It makes it so hard to think straight… You had better get Doctor Shakespeare to the hospital, I poisoned him with Bloodmorel… it has a powerful effect on Kryptonians… the lanternbearers… are experiencing a severe allergic reaction to starmold… will probably need care soon…”

Polar Lass came rising over the dune.

“I sent Rush off with the paramedics,” she reported. “Oh, but I think I need to call them back!”

Seeing the purple-and-gray-clad Tharran awoke a sudden wild madness in the older man’s eyes. “No!” he cried. “I won’t go back! I need the power to help my son!” He reached into one of the large pockets on his belt, and pulled out a small, purple, star-shaped flower. As he tossed it towards the SPs, it began to grow and change, metamorphosing into a huge, misshapen orange-and-purple giant.

“Defend me, my Ayrie!” cried the man in green.

“What have you done?” bellowed the giant. “It is not yet the time… and I am hideous!” It lifted its arms, one clearly much larger than the other, and examined them with its mismatched eyes. The ends of its flowing violet hair were partially rooted in its hunchback. It turned its eye on the older man, now almost manic with fear. “But you are suffering,” said the Ayrie. It reached out a finger, and touched him on the forehead. The old man was thrown back into the garden cave, stunned, as the Ayrie took to the skies. Matter-Eater Lad Junior took advantage of the situation to relieve the stranger of his many-pocketed belt. Polar Lass was on her ‘phone with the New Metropolis paramedics again.

“The Zo’Ok,” the stranger moaned. “My little friends… But they have rejected me… we will not bond…” He lapsed into unconsciousness.

o o o

“The Justice League Headquarters on Earth would be more appropriate,” insisted Doctor Shakespeare sulkily.

Polar Lass and Matter-Eater Lad Junior were joined at the Super-Hero Club conference table by the seven recovered Leaguers, the four SPs, and the green-clad stranger.. New Metropolis Police Chief H’Haramas, had now also joined the group.

“Ral Benem, of Mardru,” the Chief addressed the prisoner.. “You hhave has been observed raiding Botanical Museums throughout the U.P. of rare and exotic plants. As these incidents occurred on a number of planets and installations, the precise nature and number of charges against you is to me determined by the U.P.’s Attorney General.”

“But the Ayrie has healed me of my madness,” offered Ral Benem. “The sauncha… it is addictive, and… has side effects similar to a super-steroid. I have not been in my right mind for some time now.”

“Why did you begin abusing thhe saunchha at all?” asked Polar Lass.

“It's my youngest son, Phil,” said Ral Benem. “I needed enough power to find him and confront him and his… friends. He has… I can’t say he’s running around with the wrong crowd. He’s created a wrong crowd to run around with.”

“Thhis is thhe so-called New Legion of Substitute Villains?” asked Chief H’Haramas.

“He is… embarrassed by my past,” said Ral Benem. “He created this group as a mockery of the super-hero club I belonged to in my youth. He calls himself ‘Phil Kid’, and has recruited a number of other metahuman teens to join him. With ridiculous, derisive code names. ‘Tuesday Night Girl’, ‘Tadpolar Boy’, ‘Watercolor Kid’, ‘Misfire Lad’, ‘Gallstone Boy’...”

“We are aware of these delinquents,” interrupted Doctor Shakespeare. “But they are mostly harmless. Graffiti, mischievous pranks, and some minor vandalism.”

“And far from Earth, or Weber’s World, or the central U.P.,” said Ral Benem. “I know, everyone ignores them. But this is my son… and their ‘pranks’ are becoming more dangerous. I need to stop them before… Phil gets in some real trouble.”

“And now you are in some real trouble yourself,” commented Doctor Shakespeare. “Some of the specimens you have stolen are irreplaceable. The Ayrie, for example, was being held in trust for its entire species.”

“I understand,” said Ral Benem. “I will return what I still have, and what I don’t… well, I am not a rich man, but I will do what I can.”

“It will be up to the authorities,” said the Bat-Woman of Pluto. “But I expect there will be some Rehabilitation involved. Certainly not Takron-Galtos, but one of the lesser Prison Planets.”

Ral Benem turned to Matter-Eater Lad Junior and Polar Lass. “Can you and your companions help me? Stop my son and his ‘villain’ club before they go too far. Talk some sense into them, perhaps?”

“How old is Phil?” asked Polar Lass.

“He will turn fifteen in a couple of months. He left home on his fourteenth birthday. It broke Cutie’s heart.”

“So technically an adult,” said Matter-Eater Lad Junior. “But still mostly a kid.”

“I’m afraid so,” said Ral Benem.

o o o

“Despite their absurd code-names,” Star-Woman was saying, “Phil Benem has assembled a powerful group of metahuman followers.”

“Phil himself has no powers, but displays inherent leadership capabilities. The rest seem to follow him unreservedly.”

“The young woman called Tuesday Night Girl is actually a young Almeracian warrior, untrained, but with enhanced strength, speed, endurance, and agility.”

“The one in the frog costume is called Tadpolar Boy. We have learned his real name is Strove Rogarth. Born on Takron-Galtos, he is the son of Clave Rogarth of Avalon. While his father had the Strength of Voldar, Strove possesses the Stamina of Marzosh.”

“Watercolor Kid is a Zyzan, with access to Zyzan holographic shape-shifting technology. He has used this technology to make the entire team invisible at one point.”

“Misfire Lad, a mutant Venturan expatriate, has probability-altering powers. He is generally able to cause others to experience bad luck, and for his team to experience good luck, although sometimes his powers backfire.”

“Gallstone Boy is a young crystalline Barrion, and one of Phil Benems’ earliest recruits. In addition to being resistant to energy-based attacks, his race also possesses thirteen highly refined senses. He is generally used as the lookout for the group.”