Legion World Forums LEGION OUTPOST Bits o' Legionnaire Business RAINBOW GIRL – Book 7 - MALTUS

CHAPTER ONE: ZEL

“Ulu, you look so distinguished,” said Dori. His black hair was grey above the temples now.

“Still dying my hair,” said Ulu Vakk. “Just a different pattern, to impress the students with my sagacity.”

“And… your leForge V.I.S.O.R is gone,” Dori noted. “Artificial implants?”

“Re-grown eyes,” said Ulu. “As a faculty member, I now have access to a generous health-care package. Of course, Niedrich didn’t just burn my eyes out; he traumatized and damaged my optic nerves all the way back to the pineal gland. For some reason, successfully re-growing damaged nerve tissue is still difficult for 31st-century medicine, even the Daxamites. So I have a series of bionic nerve replacements. Still, 20-20 vision, and now, complete control of my powers. There’s one other change.” He held up his hand.

On the fourth finger of his left hand was a handsome platinum ring with a white star sapphire, inlaid with silver filigree.

“Ulu,” Dori cried. “You’re engaged! How sudden is this?”

“Actually, we were dating quite a while back on Lupra,” Ulu told her. “Her name is Zel Lani. She’s an Interlac major at Central Liberal Arts University on Lupra.”

“But you never said anything!” said Dori. “Why haven’t I met her?”

“I was going to introduce you, that day you came to my place, when I showed you the Emotional Spectrum histories. She was actually there in the apartment, but she got an attack of shyness. After all these decades, I’ve become pretty efficient at turning people and things invisible. She thinks the world of you, though.”

“I was with you in your apartment, with your invisible girlfriend spying on me?” said Dori. “What does she have to be shy about?”

“Well, you see, she’s, well, she’s young enough to be one of my students,” Ulu admitted.

“And you are young enough to have been one of mine,” said Dori, “What does age matter, if you’re happy? My Mah was ten years younger than my Dah. Ironically, he outlived her by four decades. They must have done all right-- he never remarried.” Dori paused. “He never re-married. After forty years.”

“Wait- Ulu, can I drop you off on Lupra, and pick you and Zel up tomorrow?” said Dori urgently. “Zel is going to Oa with us, right? There’s something I need to take care of on Xolnar, right away.”

“Sure,” said Ulu. “Right. No, I hadn’t thought of inviting Zel, but—uh, yeah, that’s a great idea. Let me call her. Duh!”

On the way to Lupra, Ulu explained: “I have a cruiser available to me on Lupra; why don’t you park your flyer, and Zel and I can meet you at Satellite Sixteen on Xolnar? It’s a long way to Oa, and the cruiser can go a lot longer without refueling. It also has semi-comfortable sleeping quarters. If you’ll split the fuel costs with me…”

“It has come to my attention recently,” said Dori, “That I am a member of a very privileged class, The 1% of the 1%. I would like to consider you and Zel as my guides and companions; I will pay for food, fuel and lodging, and you will provide intellectual expertise. You, on the other hand, may consider this a strange sort of engagement celebration vacation, and I your drowsy chaperone.”

Ulu blushed. “No, Dori, I can’t really…”

“I will not tolerate bourgeois pride or false modesty,” Dori insisted. “I have recently dropped several thousand credits on two complete disasters, and I’m paying again this time. Its my quest. The trip’s on me.”

Zel was delightful, a perfect Lupran: black hair, and dark, deep-set eyes. In fact, she looked alarmingly like Ulu, in his ‘Color Queen’ days, when Drura had accidentally infected him with Grandin Gender-Reversal Disease.

“Zel Lani…” said Drura, musingly. “I know that name from somewhere…”

“I’ve written a couple of books of poetry,” Zel replied modestly.

“Zel Lani! Yes! You wrote ‘The Pagliaccio of Trees and Other Poems’. Ulu, you didn’t tell me your fiancée had a book on the top-ten best-seller list!”

“Only for a week,” said Zel. “But it covered tuition for my last year at University.”

“What are you doing now?” asked Dori.

“Well, I start at the Xolnaran Literary Review in Vigintember,” she said. “I’ll be sending in columns to the Review from Dhor. Ulu and I will be married by then.”

“I assume you’ll be keeping your maiden name, professionally,” said Dori. “You are actually quite well-known in Metropolis—at least among my peer group. I heard your name two or three times while I was there last.”

“Actually, I’ll be going by Zellani Vaxx,” said Zel. “They already have my by-line hard-coded.”

“Well, meet me on Xolnar tomorrow,” said Dori. “I just have one little thing to attend to.”

Liking the gray-at-the-temples look for Ulu! Zel sounds quite fun as well.

Klar, your Dori Story is simply amazing, you have taken a rather odd and minor character and breathed a brilliant life into her. She's Intelligent, caring, socially astute and beautifully rounded. Well done for capturing her so well I'm in awe and also ever so slightly envious of your skill at moving the story along organically while keeping our attention, without a single explosion or thrown energy bolt!

I love your work and am really looking forward to reading more, more, more!

CHAPTER TWO : CRUISER TIME IS DULL

The Seventh City Cemetery lay south of the City, in the opposite direction of the mines, but steill far from the equatorial region, and into uninhabitable regions of cold. Dori stood in her warmsuit, over her father’s grave.

‘Andres Aandraison, Professional Miner’ read the headstone. It was the highest complement Dori had thought she could pay him.

“I’m sorry, Dah,” she said, tears steaming up her helmet. “I didn’t know. I never knew.” She turned to her mother’s headstone, not far from her father’s.

‘Eva Jendrich, Xolnaran / Years 135 –to- 147 / Beloved Wife’ it read.

Dori knelt, and brushed off the ice from the bottom of the headstone. There was one more inscription.

‘Where She Was, Was Eden’ it read.

Dori remembered her mother had had an older brother back on Thanar, an Uncle she had never met. She resolved to find out if he or his family were still around, and to try to make some connection to them. “Family,” she thought, “Maybe that’s the center I’ve been looking for on Xolnar.”

It was a long ride around the planet to the Satellite Sixteen Elevator, and Dori had a good long time to think. But it was only a short wait for Ulu and Zel. They wanted to leave right away, but Dori had them load the cruiser with foodstuffs and other supplies from the Starport. She stowed her warmsuit on board as well, because you never know. The cruiser was an old, rebuilt Legion vessel, and equipped with a drawer of trans-suits. They set course for Oa. It would be a long trip, and Dori took the opportunity to take a sonic shower, as well as sonic her clothes, and put on a trans-suit under her hyper-spandex jumpsuit.

When she came out of the cleanroom, she discovered Ulu and Zel were sharing one of the package of sandwiches they had packed at the Starport.

“We wanted to sample Xolnaran cuisine,” Zel explained.

“There is no Xolnaran cuisine,” Dori explained. “Virtually all the food is imported. There isn’t a herd, ranch, or farm on all of Xolnar. Gardens and fruit trees, yes, but those are mostly to feed the local fauna during the spring thaw. Twenty-one frozen months out of twenty-four, all of Xolnar, plant and animal, is hibernating, except for the crazy human population, which needs to keep the pluridium mines running.”

“Pluridium is used in space-hulls, isn’t it?” asked Zel.

“Yes,” said Dori. “Properly constructed, pluridium-infused alloys are super-strong, capable of withstanding even the stresses of hyperspace travel. That’s the great difficulty with building Sky Elevators, too, finding a building material of sufficient tensile strength that you don’t need cables a quarter of a mile wide. There are fifty-six Sky Elevators set around the circumference of Xolnar, more than on any other world, thanks to a ready supply of pluridium alloy.”

“I brought you something,” Ulu said, getting up and opening one of the storage hatches. He pulled out a box full of rainbow-bound books.

Dori pulled out “The Seventh History: Of The Predator, the Violet Entity”. She had a thought. She pulled Bil Katz’ note from her Omnicom, and the dried flower from her locket, and pressed them both between the pages of the book, well toward the middle.

“What’s that?” asked Ulu.

“Nothing, really,” said Dori. “Just a gesture. I want to be able to remember where I put something, that’s all.”

Ulu shrugged. Zel eyed her curiously.

Ulu and Zel had met at the University on Xolnar, while he was pursuing his PhD., and she had been an undergraduate. They had moved in entirely different social circles, but their paths literally intersected twice a week, when they emerged from classroom doors facing one another. After the fourth time they had nearly collided, Ulu had asked Zel out for Not-Coffee®, and convinced her he was not some creepy stalker. Zel claimed not to have known Ulu was Color Kid at first, despite the give-away visor. She was entirely aware, in fact, of who Color Kid had been. ‘Planetary Champion of Lupra’ was, apparently, something of a nominal honor, like having the best canned peaches at the fair. But they had found one another’s company irresistible, so much so that they had to carefully schedule their time together, so as to make room for their study schecules. Zel had been surprised when her second published book of poetry was a success on both Xolnar and Earth. Then her first book, titled simply ‘Verses by Zel Lani’ had been re-issued, and was experiencing a second life, although its sales were nowhere near ‘Pagliaccio of the Trees’. Zel also had an agreement with a publisher to provide a third book of poetry. She was planning a novelette in blank verse, a coming-of-age story for her imaginary princess heroine. The publisher coincidentally owned the magazine that Zel would be employed at in Lupran Vigintember.

There was no day or night on the cruiser, but Zel, Dori, and Ulu all retired to bed at about the same time, leaving the cruser on autopilot.

CHAPTER THREE: SODAM YAT

They found Sodam Yat on the dark side of Oa, his green light shining like a beacon. He was sitting on a throne-like rock, or, perhaps, a rock-like throne, outside an impressive-looking citadel.

“Welcome to Oa,” he said in a friendly manner. “But we really must do this thing right.”

He led the three into the citadel, through immense hallways, and into a great domed room, encircled by empty floating dais. Sodam Yat left them in the middle of the room, and mounted the air, to sit at one of the dais.

“Proceed,” he ordered. “Who are you?”

Dori had never met anyone as patient as Sodam Yat. He sat silently, but listened intently as she recounted her history and her experience with her powers. She discussed the things she had learned from the books on Lupra, and her suspicions and concerns about the Emotional Spectrum. He waited for a full minute after she had run out of things to say, before speaking.

“The Great Oz knows why you have come,” he intoned.

“When did he gain a sense of humor,” whispered Ulu. “Or has he just gone mad?”

“I am not mad, Ulu Vakk,” said Sodam Yat. “Although again, I am not entirely in touch with reality as you know it. When anyone begins to take an interest in the Entities or the Emotional Spectrum, I know about it immediately. I goes with the job. I am the Last Guardian. Do you know who wrote these nine books of which you have spoken?”

“Of course,” said Dori. “His name was Ganthet. He referred to himself as such throughout the books. Some of the events described he claims to have witnessed himself.”

“He also called himself the Last Guardian,” Ulu added. “That is why we came to you.”

“Ganthet is dead,” said Sodam Yat. “Anyone who tells you otherwise is trying to sell you something. I saw him die myself. He was, indeed, one of the last Guardians of the Universe, who created the Green Lantern Corps millennia ago. They are all dead now. I alone remain, their disciple. I am now the Last Guardian. But before we continue, there is something I have to give you.” He descended from the dais, and produced a small, laminated card.

“There are things which mortals were not meant to know. Turn back now; and cease this quest, for the path which you have chosen will lead to your utter destruction,” he read.

“This is yours to keep.” He said, in an off-hand and friendly tone, offering over the card to Dori. She took it with a degree of puzzlement.

“There are nine other books, written by the Entities themselves,” Sodam Yat explained. “The Book of Red, the Book of Yellow, et cetera, et cetera. The Book of Green is here on Oa. They detail all the adventures and doings of the various ring-bearers and lantern-keepers from the beginning of history, up to the present time. They are extremely tedious and dull, full of excruciatingly boring detail and Entirely Too Much Information. They generally manifest as a big pile of scrolls, or huge, unwieldy, heavily-bound volumes. If you want to look at the Book of Green, be my guest, but it is deadly dull: You Have Been Warned.”

“The original Guardians of the Universe were the descendants of a race called the Maltusians. The planet Maltus is still inhabited today, and by that same race. They are, unquestionably, the greatest authorities on the Emotional Spectrum, the Entities, and their power. They will be able to tell you Nothing. Furthermore, there is in fact a distant world called Mordor, but it has been uninhabited for millennia. Possibly longer. It is far beyond U.P. Space, and outside any claimed dominions. There is Nothing there, as well. It’s a long trip. Bring sandwiches. I can beam the coordinates of both Maltus and Mordor into your Omnicoms. No tricks, no charge. Free information. If you learn anything on your journeys beyond that I have related to you, don’t come back and tell me. I don’t want to know. I don’t need the responsibility. Any questions?”

“Am I in the Book of Green?” asked Dori. “I believe I may have wielded the Green Force of Will.”

“Ah, yes, the Wilberforce,” said Sodam Yat. “Look for yourself. The contents are in alphabetical order.” He gestured. An immense green book descended from the ceiling. It took Ulu, Dori, and Zel working together to open it.

‘Aaor, Xelthios’ read the entry. ‘Green Lantern of Triskom in the Seven Thousand Seven Hundred and Seventy-Seventh Century, as the Guardians reckon time. On the seventh day of the seventh year of the reign of King Komedias, he brushed his teeth, and went down to breakfast. His wife, in whom he took delight, had prepared various rolls and pastries for him, in which he also took delight…’

“Turn back a page,” Sodam Yat advised.

‘Aandqaan, Gillifreeze’ read the entry. ‘Tenth Green Lantern of Sector 945. On the day he received his ring, in the very hour, it lost all power, and he cursed the ring for its promise undelivered. The Guardians spoke to him, calling him a fool, and told him to re-charge the ring. His first endeavor was to lift his home city, and its extensive fields of grain, its granaries, and mills, high above the Sky-City of the Rulers of Rryunuyrr, as a symbol of the people’s displeasure and rebellion…’

“No, it appears you are not there,” Sodam Yat declared. “Perhaps you wielded the Wilberforce only because of your strange, natural link with the Emotional Spectrum, and not because you were not chosen by the Guardians or the Rings themselves. Or, perhaps because Ion itself, who writes this book, does not find you an interesting enough topic to include.”

Sodam Yat offered no hospitality, neither food nor drink nor shelter, so they were obliged to return to Ulu’s battered cruiser.

* * *

“Where shall we go?” asked Ulu.

“Maltus is far, but Mordor is farther,” said Dori, looking at her Omnicom. “I say Maltus first, and then, if there is time, Mordor.”

Ulu set the course, and took the helm.

“So, what does an Interlac Major study, exactly,” Dori asked Zel.

“Oh, yes, people wonder,” Zel replied carelessly. “Interlac is an artificial language, designed by committee. What is there to know? But our language has been a living tongue for tens of millennia, and has been altered and modified by hundreds of thousands of Galactic civilizations. What we call ‘Old Interlac’ barely would be barely understandable if spoken or read today; then there is the reconstructed so-called ‘Q Intra-Galactic Language’ which is a series of five-hundred-and-four distinct syllables, each with their own ‘elemental’ meaning, from which all other Interlac words are constructed. ‘Gar’, for example, we know as an ending to the names of many old worlds. It is actually a combination of ‘Ar’, meaning ‘World’, and the possessive hard-G sound. So, Thanagar, the world of the Thanae, Venegar, the world of the Vani, Korugar, the world of the Korux, and so on. In modern Interlac, the –gar or –agar suffix is added to worlds which are now the second home of a displaced species, such as Xennagar, rather than ‘New Xenn’ and Ma'aleca'andra’agar, rather than ‘New Mars’. Rokyn might have been called Kryptagar, if it had not been named by the natives themselves. Oops, I’m boring you.”

Dori suppressed a yawn. “No, really, not. It’s too bad the Spectrum Histories aren’t written in Q-Intra-Galactic. Ulu invented some sort of universal translator-reader, but it is still awfully difficult to understand.”

“Oh, yes, I know, I helped him build it, out of one of his spare visors,” said Zel. “Those books are written in Old Maltusagaran, a language which is deliberately complex, enigmatic and ambivalent. Which is funny, since the originals of those books are only about a thousand years old, whereas Old Maltusagarian is a dead language about ten billion years old. I don’t think anyone on Maltus, even, could really read and them completely. Of course the Book of Green on Oa isn’t really written at all, it’s a psychic manifestation. That’s why we turned right to the page we wanted to see… although that’s something that bothers me a little.”

“What’s that?” said Dori.

“Well, Sodam Yat is a figure of authority, supposedly possessing secret knowledge,” Zel said. “Classically, when such a figure tells you something isn’t, it usually means he is telling the truth, but you are being deceived. And he told us four ‘isn’t’s’: You’re not written in the Book of Green, we will learn nothing on Maltus, Ganthet is assuredly dead, and there we will find nothing on Mordor. It’s worrisome.”

“He also told us,” said Dori, “To bring sandwiches to Mordor. I wonder if that meant anything? I mean, Xolnar usually packs picnic lunches out of the Spaceport for supplies, so, yeah, lots of sandwiches.”

“Did we bring anything besides sandwiches?” Zel asked. “Maybe he was trying to tell us ‘don’t bring any food that isn’t sandwiches to Mordor’.”

They searched through the food packs. Zel found some ready-to-heat pressed Imskian elvabird. “Maybe Sodam Yat really is just crazy,” she said. “Maybe we’re acting crazy, too.”

There are two kinds of people in the Galaxy: those who like elvabird, and those who don’t. To the latter, it is dry, tasteless, and dull. To the former, it is rich, juicy and, in large quantities, sleep-inducing. Dori, Ulu, and Zel were all of the former variety. They feasted on the elvabird with reconstituted African yams, gravy, and bread and Space Jam™. When they awoke, they were within hailing distance of Maltus.

What a wonderfully whimsical post! Also glad that Zel's studies are playing a role here.

You have such a great take on the characters Klar, your Soddam Yates is hilarious - but then what else would we expect but aclittle madness from the keeper of a dead lore?

Great stuff, I love your work!

More, more, more, please!

CHAPTER FOUR: MALTUS

The Maltus Spaceport cavernous and empty. A small blue Maltusian approached them.

“Where is everyone?” Ulu asked.

“Few choose to visit our dying planet,” the little Maltusian replied.

“Dying? But I thought the Maltusians were immortal,” said Zel.

“Ah, ‘were’ is the operative word,” said the Maltusian. “You have no idea how dull it is, to live a billion years, seeing the same trillion faces every day. Many of my people have desired to terminate their existence; and in the past few centuries, it has become possible. I am Ngyah Ngyah Ngyung, and I will be your guide on Maltus. We are all somewhat telepathic, but it is best for our guests to state their own desires openly, just as it is for them to carry themselves on their own two feet.”

They noticed that Ngyah Ngyah Ngyung did not actually carry herself on her own two feet, but floated an inch or two off the ground.

She led them to a small, furnished apartment, the door unlocked: in fact, without a lock.

“You may stay here during your sojourn with us,” said Ngyah Ngyah Ngyang. “We have many such empty spaces since the Great Departures. I will return tomorrow. However, before I go, I will take the time to answer some of your questions. I know you have many.”

“The Maltusians are the ancestors of the Guardians, correct?” said Dori. “We are seeking a scholar of the Entities of the Emotional Spectrum.”

“Yes, we Maltusians are an ancient race, and yes, the ancestors of the Guardians,” Ngyah Ngyah Ngyang answered. “As well as ancestors of the Zamorans, the Controllers, the Hidden Ones, the Ones Unnamed, the Other Guardians of the Universe, the Fathers of the First Krill, the Lepreqon, the Silent Watchers, and the…” she shuddered “…the Poglachians. As well as a few more minor races you would not be familiar with. We are also responsible for creating the Psion race, the First Krill, the Manhunters, and, to an extent, the Solar Martians. We take full credit, full responsibility, and full blame for our actions, and the actions of our forebears, both the good and the bad, the wise and the foolish. But we are most grateful to our children and brethren the Guardians, in particular, for they have taught us how to die.”
“There is no Maltusian more expert on the Entities of the Emotional Spectrum than any other, for a little less than a thousand Earth-years ago, we learned that it was through the power of the Emotional Spectrum that we could affect disincorporation, and terminate our long sojurns. Many have chosen this path. These are the Great Departures. Some chosen to end their lives with Fear, others with Love, or Anger. All the Emotional Spectrum equally ultimately may bring Death to a Maltusian.”

“But we believe I am somehow linked to the Emotional Spectrum, and I’m not dead,” said Dori.

Ngyah Ngyah Ngyang evaluated Dori critically. “You do indeed have a strange link to the Emotional Spectrum,” she declared. “But you are mortal. You will die in any case. The energies affect you, and, incidentally, those around you, in other ways. Many other ways,” she mused.

“How do you control it?” Dori asked. “Can you teach me?”

“The Emotional Spectrum cannot be controlled,” Ngyah Ngyah Ngyang answered. “It changes all those it touches. Those who utilize the Red become vessels of Wrath. Those who utilize the Orange become monsters of Avarice. Green is safest, for it enlarges and expands only the Will of the wielders, so that they are only subject to their own desires. But eventually, even they are changed, as they lose touch with their other emotions. Fear is the first to go, then usually Love. Eventually they lose Wrath, but when the lose Compassion—and then, they seek to impose their Will upon the rest of the Universe. So it was with many Green Lanterns. Fortunately, being mortal, many died before they lost Compassion. But so it was even with the Maltusian Guardians at the end—they were corrupted by the Green Energy.”

“So the Entities will eventually change and control me?” asked Dori, terrified. “What is it they want?

“The Entities do not want anything,” said Ngyah Ngyah Ngyang. “They are pure forces of Nature. They have no more desires than the rocks or the stars. Excepting UY Scuti, of course, which is an entirely sentient and sapient star; one might even say, living. But I lose my train of thought. The Entities of the Emotional Spectrum lie with their tails at the Beginning of the Time, and their noses poking into the Restaurant at the End of the Universe. Being beyond and outside of time, they have no wants or desires in and of themselves. They have only their natures. It is only through association with temporal beings that those natures become manifest as will and wishes and desires. The Entities are not to be feared—well, not in that way, at least. And for now, you are out of questions. I will leave you for a time, so that you may discuss these things among yourselves.”

Ngyah Ngyah Ngyang departed through the unlocked door.

“I’m not sure I understand anything more about the Entities than I did before,” said Dori.

“Sodam Yat did say that the Maltusians would tell us nothing,” said Zel.

“Look,” said Ulu. “Here we have a tremendous opportunity. We shouldn’t waste it. The Maltusian civilization is at least ten billion years old. They have extended to us their hospitality: we ought to be able to think up some questions that really matter. Something else else we really need answered.”

The pondered for a while. “I’ve got nothing,” Dori said. “What should we ask?”

“There are all the classics,” said Zel. “What is the meaning of Life? Why is there something instead of nothing? How many roads must a man walk down? Why is a raven like a writing desk?”

“I wonder if we are allowed to go out and wander the streets?” Ulu wondered aloud gazing out the window at the crowds of little blue men and women.”

“Yes,” said Ngyah Ngyah Ngyang, who had re-appeared suddenly at the door. Three trays of food followed her in, levitating behind her.

The food looked like square multi-colored blobs of Jell-O™, However, it was as tasteless as clear water. Each of the three visitors also received what looked like a single peanut, which was almost equally tasteless, although slightly bitter.

As they ate, Ngyah Ngyah Ngyang continued speaking. “We apologize for the quality of the food. We have never applied ourselves to the culinary arts, although what we have provided for you is perfectly nutritious for your species, and various physiologies. In the old days, when others came to Maltus more regularly, we employed a cadre of Dentrassi chefs. Sadly, they are all gone now.”

This did not make the food any more palatable.

After finishing their plates, their appetites were unsatisfied, although their stomachs were unpleasantly full, as though they had each consumed a kilo of sand.

“You were discussing philosophy,” said Ngyah Ngyah Ngyang, addressing Zel. “’Why is there Something else else instead of Nothing?’ Because Nothing is so difficult to maintain! All those virtual quantum Something else elses dancing and jiggleing about, and those extra dimensions creeping in. Then, if you try to clean it out, Everything smudges all over the Nothing, and you only make it worse. You also asked, ‘How many roads must a man walk down?” Sadly, for you mortals, the answer is ‘One’. You have so little time. Choose your path wisely. As for we immortals, some of us might manage two. ‘Why is a Raven like a Writing Desk?’ No one knows. It just is. But after all, there are only so many configurations you can make with quarks. Now, ask me the meaning of life.”

“Er- What is the meaning of Life?” asked Zel.

“My life, or your life?” Ngyah Ngyah Ngyang replied. “You see? It is supposed to be very deep and philosophical, for each of us has to find out own meaning for our own lives. Rather like the question about the roads. Now ask me, ‘What is the Question to the Ultimate Answer of Life, the Universe, and Everything?’”

“Oh, I know that one,” said Zel. “It’s: ‘What do you get when you multiply six times nine?’”

“Ha-ha,” sad Ngyah Ngyah Ngyang mirthlessly. “Ask it.”

“What is the Question to the Ultimate Answer of Life, the Universe, and Everything?” asked Zel.

“‘What is the Question to the Ultimate Answer of Life, the Universe, and Everything?’” said Ngyah Ngyah Ngyang. She turned to Ulu.

“Zel Lani, the answers to the unspoken questions in your mind are, firstly, ‘Yes, congratulations’, and secondly, ‘No, of course not, but that doesn’t really matter to your friends, does it?’” She turned to Dori. “Your question was an excellent, well-thought-out question, by the way.

“What- what question?” asked Dori.

“’What should we ask?’” said Ngyah Ngyah Ngyang “And the answer to your question, your excellent question, is ‘Tell us about Mordor. Is it really important?’”

There was an uncomfortable silence.

Ngyah Ngyah Ngyang paused for a few moments. “Well? You must ask, before I am allowed to answer.”

“Oh,” said Dori. “Tell us about Mordor, is it really important?”

“Mordrogar was important, once, long ago. A great Evil lived there. It is terribly unimportant now. Mordrogar has been a lifeless rock since nearly as long as the Maltusians have been alive. There is Nothing there. I would advise you not to go, but of course, that will only further impel you to further investigation. You are welcome to stay on Maltus as long as you like. I will return tomorrow with breakfast, and will patiently answer any other questions you may have. I will now give you two answers for free; you can think up the questions yourselves in your spare time. ‘Yes, Ganthet is really dead.’ and ‘Always remember Rule One.’” She gave a little bow, and left the trio alone.

“Maltusians will never make good philosophers,” said Zel. “They are like kleptomaniacs: they take things literally.”

“I wonder what Rule One is?” said Dori.

“Actually, I know that one, too.” said Zel. “’Do not act incautiously when confronting a little bald wrinkly smiling man.’”

“I think Ganthet must be alive,” said Ulu. “And we are supposed to find him.”

“Why do you think that?” asked Dori.

“Because everyone keeps telling us he’s dead,” said Ulu.

“Reminds me of the old joke,” said Zel. “Two men are out in the woods. The first man says, ‘I don’t know where we are.’ The second man says ‘I think we’re lost.’ The first man says ‘Why do you say that?’ The second man says, ‘Because you just said, ‘I don’t know where we are’.’”

“I think we may have been on Maltus too long,” said Dori. “It’s starting to affect our minds.”

“Why do you say that,” said Zel.

“What you just said,” said Dori.

They had a little trouble finding the cleanroom; it was behind a hidden panel, identical to all the other panels that made up the walls. But Zel apparently had a particular talent for finding such things.

“It’s because of my need to tinkle on a regular basis,” she explained. “But I don’t like to boast.”

The beds were soft, warm, and comfortable. Still, there was a feeling of lack of privacy. It was not so much that there was no lock on the door, but that they were sleeping on a planet of telepaths.

Ngyah Ngyah Ngyang brought the same trays for breakfast as for dinner the night before. It was just as unsatisfying and over-filling.

“Do you have facilities to re-fuel our ship?” Ulu asked.

“It shall be done,” said Ngyah Ngyah Ngyang.

They wandered the streets for a while as the maintenance crew worked on the ship. The Maltusians seemed polite, many nodding in a friendly manner. Parts of the city were inaccessible. There were no stairs, so only Dori, with her flight ring, was able to rise to the other levels, which proved either empty or uninteresting. Many buildings had very small doors. They found what appeared to be a Maltusian restaurant, but the owner apologized for having no off-worlder food, and warned that attempting a Maltusian diet could have dire consequences for the digestive system of Terrans.

At last they decided to return to their ship, and leave Maltus behind.

“I can’t help but thinking we are missing something,” said Ulu. “Or forgetting something important.”

The Maltusians had not merely re-fueled their ship, but had replaced their entire engine.

“Your account has been charged one credit,” said the Maltusian engineer, bowing. “Through the miracle of compound interest, we will ultimately receive full payment, in a less than infinite amount of time.”

Ngyah Ngyah Ngyang came to see them off. “Please tell those you encounter in the United Planets that Maltus is a delightful tourist destination, and we hope to entertain all visitors to our world in a hospitable and an appropriate manner.” She looked at Ulu Vakk. “You are a student of Color. Would you not like a collection of Lantern Rings of the Emotional Spectrum?” she asked.

“Is such a thing possible?” Ulu asked.

“Indeed,” said Ngyah Ngyah Ngyang. “Naturally, they will not function for any of you. They have a native intelligence, of sorts, and will seek out suitable owners is so allowed. It is best to leave them confined in their bands, if you wish to keep them.” She offered Ulu a large black, felt-covered box. All seven rings of the Emotional Spectrum were bound down with tight bands. Each ring was set beside a miniature lantern, no larger than two inches tall. “After the lives of you and your immediate descendants are complete, they will find their ways into appropriate hands,” she said. “Until then, they are in your care.”

“Where shall we go?” Dori asked Ulu and Zel on board the ship. “Do we have time to get out to Mordor, or Mordrogar, and back again, before your vacations end?”

“It will be close, but should not be a problem,” said Ulu, performing some navigational calculatons. “We certainly are not going to spend more than a couple of days on an empty, lifeless world.” He set course for Mordor, according to Sodam Yat’s coordinates.

“What are we looking for?” asked Zel.

“We have the seven rings of the Dwarf Lords—the Guardians, I suppose. Now we need nine rings for the mortal men, doomed to die,” said Dori, “But one ring to rule them all.”

“But that’s what we forgot to ask,” said Ulu. “Is there a ‘one ring’, and is it on Mordor?”

“Shall we go back?” asked Dori.

Zel had been looking in the box of rings. “No,” she said. “Look what I found.”

It was a piece of parchment. It read: “There is no One Ring on Mordrogar. There is Nothing on Mordrogar.”

The rings turned out to be an amusing toy. Touch one, and it would respond, telling you you were not worthy.

“Zel Lani, you lack sufficient Avarice. You are not worthy to bear this ring.”

“Ulu Vakk, you lack sufficient Will. You are not worthy to bear this ring.”

“Dori Aandraison, you *urk* *squawk* *zzzt* - Error”

For Dori, the rings all responded the same way. The tiny lanterns, on the other hand, were completely inert.

They heated up the stew and ate it, the last of the non-sandwich victuals on board. They slept in three separate rooms, which Dori thought a little odd.

This is great, I love your take on the Legion's universe!

CHAPTER FIVE: MORDROGAR

Dori dreamed.

There was a tall, pale man in a long, green cape beside her bed, and a tall green top-hat. His back was to her, and he was arguing with someone, but she couldn’t understand the words.

She got out of bed, and walked out her cabin door onto the bridge deck.

Instead. she discovered herself outside, in the back yard of her father’s house on Xolnar.

It was Springheart. She found herself sitting at a table with her mother and father. Her father was just as she remembered him, old, peevish, and taciturn, wearing his warmsuit without a helmet. Her mother was a young woman, just as Dori remembered her from her childhood. There was also a man made entirely out of metal sitting at the table with them, carefully oiling his joints.

Dori discovered she was sharing not-coffee with her parents.

“She wants to go visit your brother Gaal,” said her father, speaking as though Dori wasn’t there.

“We ought to send Dori to live with her Aunt Em,” her mother was saying. “They have a nice little farm on Thanar.”

The tall, pale man in the long green cape came up, flustered, waving his arms. “This is all wrong!” he shouted. “And why doesn’t the Tin Man have any tea?”

Dori woke up, a little disoriented.

Breakfast was egg-and-onion sandwiches. Ulu tried heating his up, without much success.

Ulu and Zel evidently had an ongoing competition which involved Interlac Hyper-Scrabble, a game which did not allow nouns. Zel seemed to win consistently, Nevertheless, in the each game, competition was fierce.

“’Chair’ is a noun,” Ulu would remark.

“’I am using it in the sense of chairing a committee,” Zel would answer.

“Chair of a committee, still a noun,” Ulu argued.

“Yes, but to chair a committee is a verb,” Zel would point out. “’Heartache’, however, is clearly solely a noun.”

“I am using it in the adjectival sense,” Ulu would reply. “The colour of heartache.”

And so it would go on.

“Ngyah Ngyah Ngyang,” said Zel (the others were impressed with her pronunciation), “said that Mordrogar was once the home of a Great Evil. It reminds me of an ancient Epic Poem, told in Old Interlac. It was sung from world-to-world for ten thousand generations, but now is mostly forgotten, except by scholars.”

“It tells the story of Zetto, a powerful hero, with power enough to move—or destroy—an entire Galaxy. But he used his power only for good, not evil. Zetto was an immortal, but never aspired to be thought a god. Still, over a long period of time, he protected his people, and taught them how to live in peace and harmony with one another. His homeworld became a garden of paradise. Seeing that his people no longer needed him, he departed into space, and over time, brought peace and tranquility to countless other worlds. When he eventually returned to visit his own people, however, he saw that they had deteriorated into savage, warlike brutes. Zetto was discouraged, and thought all his great power was meaningless and worthless.”

“But then, there arose another being, equal in power to Zetto. He is called only The Evil One in the Epic. He sought to destroy the entire Galaxy, and he had the power to do it, too. Only Zetto stood in his way, only Zetto had the power to stop him. The Evil One could not be confined or imprisoned, so Zetto had to hold him back himself, the two locked in fierce battle. Often the Evil One would nearly escape, but Zetto would recapture him before he could do any harm, and the two would continue their battle again. Both immortal, never tiring. The two arch-enemies fought one another for a billion years, until their energies fused, combined, and annihilated them both together.”

“The resulting cataclysm resulted in Armageddon for their Galaxy, so Zetto lost anyway. A huge sphere of destructive energy was unleashed, which expanding at the speed of light, over the next hundred thousand years, annihilated all life, and even all matter in the Galaxy. It was entirely destroyed, leaving nothing but an empty void in its place.”

“That’s pretty depressing,” said Dori. “Billions of years of effort, wasted.”

“The Poem is believed to be intended as an ode to the futility of existence, and of striving. But I read it differently. Yes, Zetto’s World eventually fell back into savagery and brutality, but think of the billions of children who grew up in a world of perfect peace and harmony. Yes, The Evil One eventually destroyed the Galaxy, but think of the trillions, or quadrillions, or quintillions of artists and workmen who lived long, productive lives of happiness and safety, producing and sharing transcendent art and literature, for the lives of entire civilizations. Imagine yourself as one of those who lived under the protection of Zetto’s power. Would you have rather he had never existed? Would you have rather that only The Evil One had? I think the story of Zetto is the story of a billion-plus-year golden age. All ages come to an end, however.”

Dori looked thoughtful. “When you put it that way, I have to agree with you somewhat. But I would not want to have been Zetto.”

“What was the name of Zetto’s world?” Ulu asked. “Not Mordor, or Mordrogar, by chance?”

“It was called Aedangar,” said Zel. “The Planet of the Delightsome Ones, in Old Interlac.”

* * *

Mordor’s primary was a tiny red dwarf, and the planet itself rested in quite a tight, close orbit. Ulu looked sadly at the instrument panel. “Dust, gas, and rock,” he announced. “Very old rock. I don’t detect any radioactive elements, even. It appears they have all decayed away.”

“What kind of rocks?” asked Zel.

“Silicon dioxide, aluminum silicate, corundum, silicon carbide. Nothing unusual at all. It’s warm down there, though. Water wouldn’t freeze, if there were any water. Atmosphere thin, mostly nitrogen and carbon dioxide, not really breathable at all. We could survive in trans-suits, though.”

Dori looked out the viewscreen at tiny Mordor. She suddenly felt herself falling, She was outside the cruiser, saw it falling away in the distance. Her trans-suit had snapped on immediately. An overwhelming blackness rose up around her from the planet below, blacker that the blackness of space. She heard the voices of the dead again, screaming, ringing in her ears. She was lost, blind, and alone.

A pale, pretty young girl floated beside her. “You’re not alone, Dori,” said Death.

“I think know who you are,” said Dori. “I saw you once before, on Winath.”

“You ought to know me,” said Death. “I’ve been trapped in your Black aura for half a century. You have my brother Destruction trapped in Red, and Desire trapped in the Violet. The others are free, of course. Seven Entities of the Emotional Spectrum, and Seven Endless, but not necessarily a one-to-one correspondence.”

“How can Death be trapped in my aura?” said Dori. “People still die, every day.”

“Oh, well, just because my siblings and I are omnipresent doesn’t mean it is any less uncomfortable being trapped in your auras,” said Death. “Of course, I can’t really expect you to be that familiar with us all. It’s not as though we invite you over for tea.”

“Tea?” said Dori, remembering her dream. “Is this a dream?”

Death glanced around. “No,” she said, “I don’t think so. At least, I don’t see him here. Oh, look at Mordrogar!”

The blackness parted somewhat, or the planet rose out of the blackness. Dori looked.

“What do you see?” asked Death.

“Nothing,” said Dori.

“Look harder,” said Death.

“Oh,” said Dori. “Nothing!”

Dori woke with a mouth full of cucumber and mayonnaise.

She was sitting on the floor of the bridge, Zel and Ulu beside her. Sandwich wrappers were scattered all over the floor.

“You’ve been in some kind of a trance,” said Zel.

“Yes, some kind of a trance where you’ve been eating all our supplies,” said Ulu. “Ten sandwiches! A full day’s supply for all of us. I don’t know where you’ve been putting it.” Zel gave him a scowl.

“Dori, are you OK?” asked Zel. “Maybe you should go into your cabin and rest. Or maybe go into the cleanroom and puke.”

Dori swallowed a little bile. “I’m OK,” she said, standing. “I’ve learned something,” she said. “Look out at Mordor on the viewscreen.

Zel and Ulu looked.

“Do you see anything unusual?” Dori asked.

“No,” said Ulu.

“No, nothing, really,” said Zel.

“Exactly,” said Dori. “We can’t recognize it at first, because we’ve never seen it. Nothing. There’s Nothing out there.”

Ulu and Zel exchanged glances.

“Keep looking,” said Dori. “Look with your hearts, not just with your eyes and minds. There was once a Great Evil here. But now, it is Nothing. Not just nothing, but Nothing: Nothing instead of Something else else. It has withered away, and it has no shape, no size, no energy, no mass, but it still is. It wants to destroy Everything, but it can’t, because now, it is Nothing. It’s like Sodam Yat told us, and Ng… the Maltusian. There is Nothing here. And it’s dangerous.”

Ulu and Zel nodded. They could feel the Nothing, too. Evil, angry, envious, waiting… for, what? A chance to turn the Universe into Nothing as well?

“Oh!” Dori cried. “Look!” She held up her right hand. There, on the middle finger was the Substitutes’ Flight Ring. But on the fourth finger of her hand, there was another ring: smooth, unornamented, the color of alabaster or mother-of-pearl. Ribbons of color swam and darted within the silvery-white stone.

“What?” asked Zel. “What is it?”

“The One Ring,” said Dori. “The Malthusians were wrong. It was here after all.”

“One ring?” said Zel. “I see two.”

“But this one,” said Dori pointing to the mother-of-pearl circlet, “This one is new.”

“No, no, I don’t think so,” said Zel, confused. “You’ve always worn two rings on one hand. I thought it was kind of an odd affectation, but maybe had some personal meaning to you.”

“Sorry, no, you’re wrong, Zel,” said Ulu, his eyes closed tight in concentration. “Think. Remember. Remember her eating sandwiches with both hands. Only one ring. Only the Substitutes’ Flight Ring. This second ring is new. It’s only been there since she woke up from her trance.”

“Except it’s always been there,” said Zel. “It’s always been there, since she woke up from her trance.”

“I don’t want it,” said Dori. “I don’t like it. But, but I can’t get it off.”

They tried soap and water and oil, but the ring wouldn’t budge.

“Maybe if we get away from Mordor,” Ulu suggested, and set a course back to Lupra.

“Does it hurt?” asked Zel.

“No,” said Dori. “It’s perfectly comfortable, a little warm. It’s not tight at all, but I don’t like what it might represent, and I’m getting a little panicked.”

“We’ll figure out what it means, and how to get it off,” said Zel. “This sort of thing happens in the Eldritch Histories all the time. If necessary, we can go to the Sorcerers’ World, and talk to the experts.”

“Wait, I have an idea,” said Ulu. He opened the box of Lantern rings they had received on Maltus, then closed it again. “Nope. I was wrong. I thought perhaps the seven rings had fused into the one you’re wearing, but they’re all still here.”

Dori thought about this. “It doesn’t mean they didn’t, necessarily,” she said. “When it comes to the Rings and the Entities, I wouldn’t be surprised if some things could be in two places at once.”

Dori moped around the bridge, and in then her cabin, until suppertime. She didn’t feel like eating, Ulu and Zel were not surprised. She fell asleep on her bunk, thinking, “Let me dream of Mah and Dah again.”

But the only one at the tea-table was the Tin Man, who told her, “They went home.” She saw that he had at last received his cup of tea. She went into the house, but the Toorbins were already living there. When she went back out into the garden, the tall, pale man with the long, green cape had joined the Tin Man.

“Emerald suits me, don’t you think?” he asked. “And you met my sister. But then, a part of you is my sister, I think.”

“Do you know what this ring is?” asked Dori. But the ring was gone from her finger.

“The ring wants to go somewhere,” said green-garbed man. “You may follow it if you like, but it may lead you down the rabbit-hole. No, no, wrong reference. Who is on scripts these days?” He stood up from the table and was gone.

“Have some more tea,” said the Tin Man. “And give my regards to Aunt Em.”

Dori woke up in a sweat.

Interesting development! I look forward to seeing where you go with that ring.

Death and Dream appearing, nice touch. Liked the legend too.

CHAPTER SIX: GANTHET & SAYD

In the light of day, the ring was back.

“The ring wants to go somewhere,” Dori told Ulu and Zel. “I’m not sure where. But we probably need to get back to United Planets space, if you are not going to miss the first day of class.”

“Actually, no,” said Ulu, checking the chronometer. “This new engine the Maltusians installed is carrying us farther and faster, and with far less expenditure of fuel, that the old one. We can follow the ring with you for another three days of so, if you like. But then we really will need to turn around, and head back home.”

“I’ve lost track of what day it is,” said Dori. “I have been having some strange and bewildering dreams.”

Dori could feel the ring pulling them in the direction it wanted to go. At first, they were headed back into United Planets Space, but then overshot, and cruised out into another no-man’s-land. In less than a day, they were over an unfamiliar green world, but the three were exhausted.

“I’ll put the ship in orbit, and we’ll all get some much-needed rest,” Ulu suggested. “We can land in the morning, and all go out and explore the planet refreshed.”

The planet seemed to be covered with trees resembling furry, giant redwoods. Ulu set the cruiser down in a clearing on the morning line, set just as the local sun was coming up. As they exited the cruiser, they saw a small figure floating down a path towards them. It wore robes of a dull teal-gray, embroidered with scarlet thread. Scarcely a meter tall, it threw back the cowl which hid its face, revealing the deep blue skin, a bald head, and bright green eyes of a Malthusian.

“I am Sayd,” said Sayd. “Mate of Ganthet. Welcome to Planet Exile.”

“Where is Ganthet?” asked Dori, holding her breath.

“Ganthet is dead,” said Sayd.

“Not fair! Not fair!” cried a voice from high above. Another Malthusian came swooping out the trees. “I only died twice, and they have been told twice that I was dead. I have yet to die a third time! The last time was a bit too close for comfort, though.”

Ganthet was little, old, wrinkled, bald and smiling. “Do not act incautiously,” thought Dori.

He was also very, very blue.

“Come with me,” said Sayd to Ulu and Zel. “Ganthet has much to discuss with Dori Aandraison in private.”

The little Oan’s concept of ‘private’ was a bit puzzling. Ganthet and Dori stood right beside them, as Sayd conjured a green table and chairs, set with little green cups and saucers. “Sit down and have some tea,” said Sayd.

“I really don’t care for tea,” said Zel.

“Then have some Manhattan Clam Chowder,” said Sayd, as deep red stew bubbled up, filling a cup-turned-bowl. “Unlike the others of my race, I am learning to cook.”

“You sent me this ring,” said Dori, accusingly.

“No, that was doubtless the work of the Enities of the Emotional Spectrum,” said Ganthet. “They have been putting ideas in your head. Only in such close proximity to the Nothing could their power have manifested as that Ring, however.”

“Then the story in the old book is true?” asked Dori. “Three for the Elven Kings, Seven for the Dwarf Lords, Nine for the Moral Men?”

“The three Elven rings are buried at the heart of stars,” said Ganthet. “And those Elves themselves are long dead. Give a ring to a dwarf, and he will pop out the stone, toss it in a chest, and melt the metal down for ingots. No one would give one ring of power to a dwarf, let alone seven. The Nine Rings of the Nine Entities of the Emotional Spectrum are another story entirely. And quite a long story, at that. I wrote a book about it, once. Seven volumes.”

“So the Nine Entities made this ring?” she asked, holding up her right hand.

“Technically, I suppose, you made it,” said Ganthet. “Nevertheless, it has led you to me, as was undoubtedly the Entities’ intention.”

“Metaphorically speaking,” said Sayd. “You have learned by now that the Entities have no intentions, per se.”

“The Entities exist outside time,” said Ganthet, “But our association with them is within time: we see them as having a past, present and future, although that is not how they see themselves. So, it is sometimes useful to think of them ‘wanting’ things: as having desires and intentions. But they are only what they are; their various natures are all that there is to them. But what I believe is, that they intend you to be the next First Lantern.”

“The what?” asked Dori. “How can there be a Next First?”

“The First Lantern,” said Sayd, “Is one of the most powerful and dangerous forces in the Universe. Should we kill her now, Ganthet?”

“What!” Ulu and Zel jumped to their feet.

“I do not think we could, even if we tried,” Ganthet mused. “Her connection with the Emotional Spectrum has grown very strong indeed, you see? It seems to me to have been strong since the day of her birth.” He turned his attention back to Dori. “Sayd can be unnecessarily melodramatic. We only wish you to understand the path that lies before you, the path the Entities… er- intend… you to follow. Let me get comfortable.” He summoned a soft, comfortable chair, which hung suspended in mid-air.

“In the beginning,” Ganthet began, “about fourteen billion years ago, there was a tiny quantum fluctuation, and all of space, and time, energy, and matter, sprang into being. At first, the Universe was so dense and opaque that any light emitted was immediately absorbed by the surrounding sub-atomic particles. Eventually, the Universe expanded and cooled, and at the age of four hundred thousand standard years or so, God said, ‘Let there be Light,” and the Universe became transparent.”

“Now who is being unnecessarily melodramatic?” said Sayd.

Ganthet cleared his throat. “This is what we Malthusians call the ‘beginning of time’, although time itself began about four hundred thousand years before this. Still, back then, there was nothing to see. But when Light was released into the Universe, the first Entities of the Emotional Spectrum were released as well. Entering our Universe from a Time before Time, two entities, one representing Life, and the other representing Death, sprang to life fully-formed, forces intertwined with the Multiverse as we know it. The Chosen, as it is called, the Entity of Life, splintered into seven separate Emotional Entities. Necron, as it is now called, the Entity of Death, remained a single creature, just as a beam of white light shown through a prism will separate into a spectrum of color, but a black shadow shown through a prism remains a shadow.”

“Thus, nine entities were created from the two. At this point Volthoom appeared. A mysterious traveler from a future Universe, he appeared alone at the Beginning of Time. As the only living, sentient temporal being in the Universe, the Entities attached themselves to him. His mind gave them names, purpose, and structure. He commanded all the forces and energies of the Entities. A short time later, when the Anti-Monitor and Krona also appeared at the Beginning of Time, with uncounted numbers of heroes arrayed against them, from uncounted numbers of worlds in uncountable possible futures, Volthoom watched, and laughed. Then the Universe was fractured into a myriad of universes, some clumping together into little lumps of Multiverses, one or two here, fifty-two or ten thousand or more over there.

“Volthoom had power beyond imagining, but he had one weakness: he was afraid of the end, the Black Entity of Death. When the Maltusians discovered him in their investigations into the Entities of the Emotional Spectrum, they imprisoned him in a Black Hole for over ten billion years. Shortly after he escaped, the Entity of Death claimed him as his own, and he was no more. His shade has since escaped the Realm of Death more than once, but he was never able to re-establish his connection with the Emotional Spectrum.”

“And so, the Entities have been severely weakened, able to manifest only through the Rings and Lanterns of the Eight Corps, with the Black Corps essentially banished from our Universe.”

“And now they have found you.”

“Oh,” said Dori. “My.”

“Tell her the rest,” said Sayd, “Or I will.”

“Be my guest,” said Ganthet.

Ganthet and Sayd traded places. Ganthet smiled at Ulu and Zel.

“The full power of the Emotional Spectrum comes with a great temptation,” she said. “For you would be able to change time itself: to rewrite history. Imagine that some great tragedy had happened in your life. You could correct it, make it as though it had never happened. Or imagine that you had suffered some minor slight or scrape. You could correct that, too. Imagine you had an enemy: you could erase them from time, so that they had never lived. Or re-write their life, to make it a living hell. Or even bless their lives immeasurably, even absurdly, and then take it all away, leaving them with only a memory of what might have been in some other reality. You could resurrect the dead you judge worthy, or send the wicked to their deaths."

"Yet in each of these actions, you would remake a Universe only by destroying another. And when death and life become interchangeable, they become cheap. When emotional energy becomes only a path to power, emotions themselves lose their meaning.”

“So it was with Volthoom. He was beautiful, a being of living fire, light, and color. But he was a monster, and worse than a monster, a monster without conscience, without guilt or regret. The Universe was his day-dream, and a dream or a nightmare at his will and whim. He had everything, but ultimately lost it all. His name was only ever known by a few, and has been held a dark secret even by those who know, neither famous nor infamous today.”

“But if the Entities are so powerful,” said Dori, “Why don’t they re-make the Universe according to their whim?”

“The Entities have no such power,” said Sayd, “They exist beyond time. To them, the Universes are static, all one Omniverse, timeless, without past, present or future. It is only through the temporal entities that they affect and infect that these things can be.”

“But if the Entities already know the future,” said Dori, “Then if they have chosen me to be the new Volthoom, my fate is sealed, isn’t it? I mean, they would not have chosen me unless they knew how I would ultimately choose, right? I have no free will in this matter.”

“It is the Entities that have no free will,” said Sayd. “They are what they are, and they do what they do, and it is already done, from the beginning to the end of time. But you have the power to choose your path, to be what you want to be. Choose wisely.”

“I need to have some time to think,” said Dori.

“Take all the time you like,” said Ganthet.

“It is so hard to say ‘Good-bye’,” said Sayd. “Good-bye.”

“Wait, what?” said Dori. “That’s all there is? ‘The Nine Entities are after you, good luck!’? Can’t you give me any advice? How do I fight them? How do I escape them?”

“You might as well try to escape the stars in the sky,” said Ganthet. “The Nine Entities are not your enemies. They are, in fact, your friend, and probably entirely too good and powerful a friend to have.”

“A few words of advice?” said Sayd. “Be yourself. You have done fine so far. Trust that the Universe is unfolding as it should. Don’t wish. Don’t start. Wishing only wounds the ones you love.”

“Take the long view,” Ganthet suggested.

“And if you would like something to look forward to, come back in a thousand years or so, and meet our son.”

“A thousand years?” asked Dori.

“Maltusian gestation periods are somewhat problematic,” said Sayd. “Fortunately, the morning sickness lasts only the first century or so.”

Dori sank to the ground, overwhelmed, shaken. Ulu and Zel came over to her. “We’d better leave,” Ulu said. “I think we have learned all we can here.”

“Aren’t we forgetting something?” said Dori. “Something else else we need to ask?”

“Could you replenish our supplies a little?” Ulu asked Ganthet. “Those Xolnaran sandwiches are starting to get a little stale.”

Back on the ship, Dori sank despondently into one of the deck chairs.

“So I am to be Zetto after all, and The Evil One is me,” she said.

They set course for Xolnar. Dori spent much of the time in her cabin, trying to wrap her brain around what she had been told. Ulu and Zel were very quiet at mealtimes. At last, they were within hailing distance of the Sixteenth City Satellite.

“Well, what did you think of your and Ulu’s first big vacation together?” Dori asked Zel.

“Not really our first,” Zel said. “And hopefully not our last. But interesting, with you along. You won’t mind if next time it’s just the two of us?”

“I must say, Sodam Yat has definitely been alone too long,” said Ulu. “His train has gone right ‘round the bend, as they say.”

“Maltus was strange,” said Zel. “It’s interesting they told us they want more tourist trade. I wonder if they were being sincere, or have an ulterior motive. Most likely the latter. And Mordor was appropriately scary.”

“Yeah,” said Ulu. “I thought you were going to finish the sandwiches, and start chewing on the starcoils.” He laughed.

“What about Ganthet?” asked Dori.

“It’s too bad he’s dead,” said Zel. “He might have been of some help. I’m sorry you didn’t find the answers you were seeking.”

“Do you want me to load his histories into your flyer at the Satellite, or would you like to take them down to your house with you?” Ulu asked. “You said you wanted to have some more time to study them.”

Dori stared at her friends, dumbfounded. They stared back, glassy-eyed.

“{Sorry}” came the telepathic voices of Ganthet and Sayd. “{The fewer who know of the First Lantern, the better.}”

"So now who's interfering with the Universe?" said Dori to herself.

Brrrr. Poor Dori, this is quite a lot to take in. I am sure she will handle it with aplomb though.

Superb, your obviously having fun with this and working in loads of classic quotes really adds to the pleasure of reading. Dori becoming the Next First Lantern will be interesting, looking forward to where you take us next Klar.

More, more, more!