Legion World Forums LEGION OUTPOST Bits o' Legionnaire Business Young Legion - A Tale of Earth-K2

“Here we go again”
-- Andy Warhol

“I have a bad feeling about this.”
-- Everybody

PROLOGUE:
FOUR

Garth: Did they really have to drag Brainy out of the building?

Rokk: Practically.

Imra: Sounds like him. He’s probably calculating a way to find a new Legion based on Colu… with him in absolute charge.

Garth: That’s our genius. He always wanted to run our little club, but you were the best leader we ever had, Imra.

Imra: Absolutely not. Rokk was first and best.

Rokk: I blush.

Garth: None of us would have expected it to end this way back when we started…

Rokk: Or to have survived some of the impossible situations we did along the way.

Garth: I only wanted an excuse to hang around with this pretty woman.

Imra: Flatterer. Even if I couldn’t read your mind, I’d know you were lying.

Garth: We did what we could with the gifts that we were given by genetics or accident… and I got you, too.

Imra: If the Legion’s finished, well… I’m not going to ponder what happened on other worlds, or in dreams, or whether this reality is all there is in life… because our story will never end.

CHAPTER ONE:
LETTERS

TWENTY YEARS LATER

TO:
shrinkingviolet@iota.com.irulan.up;
fffffff77@troogle.com.carggg.up;
polarpower@coldweb.com.tharr.up;
egnach@lgm.com.durla.up;
mattereaterlad2@bismollgov.gov.bismoll.up;
newphantomgirl@ghostnet.net.bgztl.4d.up;
10.diamonds@vvw70kyod.rl.colunet.up

FROM:
dorrit.ranzz@lightningringfarms.net.winath.up;
dacey.ranzz@lightningringfarms.net.winath.up;
pol.hu.krinn2@lightningringfarms.net.winath.up

Cos is official in six hours. Meet at the rendevous ASAP. RSVP.

TO:
dorrit.ranzz@lightningringfarms.net.winath.up; dacey.ranzz@lightningringfarms.net.winath.up; pol.hu.krinn2@lightningringfarms.net.winath.up; fffffff77@troogle.com.carggg.up; polarpower@coldweb.com.tharr.up; egnach@lgm.com.durla.up; mattereaterlad2@bismollgov.gov.bismoll.up; newphantomgirl@ghostnet.net.bgztl.4d.up; 10.diamonds@vvw70kyod.rl.colunet.up
FROM:
shrinkingviolet@iota.com.irulan.up

I will be there.

TO: dorrit.ranzz@lightningringfarms.net.winath.up; dacey.ranzz@lightningringfarms.net.winath.up; pol.hu.krinn2@lightningringfarms.net.winath.up; shrinkingviolet@iota.com.irulan.up; polarpower@coldweb.com.tharr.up; egnach@lgm.com.durla.up; mattereaterlad2@bismollgov.gov.bismoll.up; newphantomgirl@ghostnet.net.bgztl.4d.up; 10.diamonds@vvw70kyod.rl.colunet.up
FROM: fffffff77@troogle.com.carggg.up

We will be there.

TO: shrinkingviolet@iota.com.irulan.up; fffffff77@troogle.com.carggg.up; egnach@lgm.com.durla.up; mattereaterlad2@bismollgov.gov.bismoll.up; newphantomgirl@ghostnet.net.bgztl.4d.up; 10.diamonds@vvw70kyod.rl.colunet.up
FROM: polarpower@coldweb.com.tharr.up

Will be there.

TO: dorrit.ranzz@lightningringfarms.net.winath.up; dacey.ranzz@lightningringfarms.net.winath.up; pol.hu.krinn2@lightningringfarms.net.winath.up; shrinkingviolet@iota.com.irulan.up; fffffff77@troogle.com.carggg.up; polarpower@coldweb.com.tharr.up; mattereaterlad2@bismollgov.gov.bismoll.up; newphantomgirl@ghostnet.net.bgztl.4d.up; 10.diamonds@vvw70kyod.rl.colunet.up
FROM: egnach@lgm.com.durla.up

On my way.

TO: dorrit.ranzz@lightningringfarms.net.winath.up; dacey.ranzz@lightningringfarms.net.winath.up; pol.hu.krinn2@lightningringfarms.net.winath.up; shrinkingviolet@iota.com.irulan.up; fffffff77@troogle.com.carggg.up; polarpower@coldweb.com.tharr.up; egnach@lgm.com.durla.up;newphantomgirl@ghostnet.net.bgztl.4d.up; 10.diamonds@vvw70kyod.rl.colunet.up
FROM: mattereaterlad2@bismollgov.gov.bismoll.up

On the ball and ready for action!

TO: dorrit.ranzz@lightningringfarms.net.winath.up; dacey.ranzz@lightningringfarms.net.winath.up; pol.hu.krinn2@lightningringfarms.net.winath.up; shrinkingviolet@iota.com.irulan.up; fffffff77@troogle.com.carggg.up; polarpower@coldweb.com.tharr.up; egnach@lgm.com.durla.up; mattereaterlad2@bismollgov.gov.bismoll.up; 10.diamonds@vvw70kyod.rl.colunet.up
FROM: newphantomgirl@ghostnet.net.bgztl.4d.up

I have a little surprise for you when I see you all. Hint: Original clubhouse.

TO: dorrit.ranzz@lightningringfarms.net.winath.up; dacey.ranzz@lightningringfarms.net.winath.up; pol.hu.krinn2@lightningringfarms.net.winath.upTO: shrinkingviolet@iota.com.irulan.up; fffffff77@troogle.com.carggg.up; polarpower@coldweb.com.tharr.up; egnach@lgm.com.durla.up; mattereaterlad2@bismollgov.gov.bismoll.up; newphantomgirl@ghostnet.net.bgztl.4d.up
FROM: 10.diamonds@vvw70kyod.rl.colunet.up

Happy Birthday, Pol.
I would remind you all (again) that Coluans do not reach legal majority until the age of approximately one Terran century.
As I am restricted to travel approved by my legal guardian, I am therefore unable to 'rendevous' with the rest of you 'adult' 14-year-olds.
However, I am pleased to continue to serve as a consultant, when necessary.
Dorrit, Dacey and Pol: Do you really think your parents do not know what is going on?
Do you suppose they do not monitor their own server?
How clueless do you think they are?
I believe they are Level-Three intelligences, or am I wrong?
And your mother is a Class-One Telepath, for Ultra-Grife's sake.
Good luck, boys and girls.

TO: shrinkingviolet@iota.com.irulan.up; fffffff77@troogle.com.carggg.up; polarpower@coldweb.com.tharr.up; egnach@lgm.com.durla.up; mattereaterlad2@bismollgov.gov.bismoll.up; newphantomgirl@ghostnet.net.bgztl.4d.up; 10.diamonds@vvw70kyod.rl.colunet.up
FROM: dorrit.ranzz@lightningringfarms.net.winath.up

Guys, there is going to be a little delay.

Yes, Ten, yer very smart. Now shut up.

TO: dorrit.ranzz@lightningringfarms.net.winath.up; dacey.ranzz@lightningringfarms.net.winath.up; pol.hu.krinn2@lightningringfarms.net.winath.upTO: shrinkingviolet@iota.com.irulan.up; fffffff77@troogle.com.carggg.up; polarpower@coldweb.com.tharr.up; egnach@lgm.com.durla.up; mattereaterlad2@bismollgov.gov.bismoll.up; newphantomgirl@ghostnet.net.bgztl.4d.up
FROM: 10.diamonds@vvw70kyod.rl.colunet.up

I would say I hate to say 'I told you so', but I actually rather enjoy saying 'I told you so'.

CHAPTER TWO:
AGREEMENTS

Lightning Ring Farms

“Yes, this is a family business,” said Garth Ranzz. “But we still run it like a business.”

“You need to show a little forethought,” said Imra Ardeen Ranzz. “Think of the future consequences of your actions.”

“Read your contracts,” Garth Ranzz said to the two girls. “If you fail to give Lightning Ring Farms two weeks notice, we are allowed to dock your unpaid salary, vacation, and sick leave. If you do, you can cash out your all your withholdings.”

“I am willing for you to leave, Pol,” said Rokk Krinn. “I was only a few months older than you are now when I went to Earth, looking for employment. Your grandpa Hu still lives there. But you probably want to wait until Dacey and Dorrit can join you. You are old enough to start receiving the Stipend now, and thirty-eight credits a week probably seems like a lot of money, but you will be surprised how quickly it goes, once you start paying your own rent, and buying your own food.”

“And of course we were monitoring your emails,” said Lydda Jath Krinn. “They are on a Company server, you ought to have had no expectation of privacy.”

“What were you thinking, setting up communications with a Coluan?” said Imra Ardeen Ranzz. “If there is one thing I hope you learned, it’s ‘Never Trust a Coluan’. Fortunately we have some pretty robust firewalls, and it doesn’t appear he tried to hack our system… but you never know with Coluans and Tech...”

“Okay, okay,” said Dorrit Ranzz. “We’ll give written notice of our resignations. We’ll postpone our trip for two weeks. Pol will stay here on Winath, until we’re all ready to leave together. Are you happy now?”

“We just want you to think ahead, dear,” said Imra Ardeen Ranzz. “And you don’t need to waste money on a Starliner. We’ll transfer your personal Runabout into your own names. That and your savings ought to give you a good start.”

“You’re always welcome to come back,” said Rokk Krinn. “And Pol, if decide you want to start working for the Farms, too, you are welcome as well. You know we are always short-handed.”

Lydda Jath Krinn hugged her son tightly. “Have a good time on Earth, dear. Be safe.”

“I’ll be fine,” said Pol Krinn, sulkily. “And it’s not Earth, it’s Mars.”

Dacey and Dorrit gasped.

Lydda Jath Krinn smiled. “I don’t think you were supposed to tell me that, dear.”

Klar, hi, I think you are the most consistency creative writer on this forum, and this low-key beginning to your story is case in point.

From the great email addresses - the Gragggite being @ Troogle made me laugh, though the Coluan having the designation of 10 was worrying - hopefully that is the intelligence rating, not generation of Brainiac. Nice characterisation for the senior team too, and their worry about Coluans hacking their system is very intriguing. I was surprised that it was Dacey and Dorritt and not Graym and Garridan that seemed to be organisation this team, though I'm sure you'll introduce the boys atsome point.

Looking forward to more, more and more!

CHAPTER THREE:
THE DURLAN

New Metropolis, Mars. (Population 6,465)

The Durlan sat at a restaurant table in the Marshall Grande Hotel, skin the color and texture of mandarin oranges. His bat-like ears and antennae rose high above his head.

“Have you been waiting long?” asked Dorrit.

“A little over two weeks,” the Durlan replied. “We had already departed the Spaceport when I received your message.”

“Oh, I am so sorry,” said Dacey.

“It is of no consequence,” said the Durlan. “I had already said my good-byes to Durla. What is the expression? ‘Burned my bridges’: I had nowhere to go but forward.”

Dorrit was concerned. “It sounds like you sacrificed a great deal to join us,” she said. “I hope… I hope this… enterprise… is worth it.”

“Any Durlan who leaves the Homeworld sacrifices a great deal. But for most, the loss has already occurred before they left. We are aware of with what suspicion shape-shifters are viewed in some quarters of the Galaxy. Our motives and loyalties are always suspect. But the truth is, any Durlan who comes out into greater U.P. space is most likely there because they have nowhere else to go.”

“Hey, how about some formal introductions?” Pol Krinn declared, taking a seat at the table. “I’m Pol Krinn, and I plan to take the name Cosmic Boy, just like my father.”

“Dorrit Ranzz,” Dorrit sighed. “Saturn Girl, named after my mother. Although, I’m really Winathan, not from Saturn.”

“Dacey Ranzz,” said Dacey. “Lightning Lass, like my Aunt Ayla.”

“Pleased to meet you all IRL,” said the Durlan. “You may call me Chameleon.”

“Just ‘Chameleon’?” Pol asked. “No other name? No ‘Boy’ or ‘Girl’?”

“My tribe does not adopt audible proper names,” said Chameleon. “Nor do we select our genders, until we are ready to bond. For me, not for some time, I hope.”

Pol had noticed that although the Durlan appeared completely naked, its body was entirely featureless: there were no visible primary or secondary sexual characteristics or visible orifices of any kind.

“How have you been getting by?” asked Dorrit. “Do you have any other income than the Stipend? Because staying in this hotel for two weeks would probably have wiped you out. Have you found another place to live in New Metropolis?”

“There are several inexpensive delicatessens and cafeterias,” Chameleon replied. “At night, I shift into the form of one of the local birds or domestic beasts to get some sleep. Various trees are quite comfortable enough for me in those forms.”

A waiter came over to their table.

“Waiter, we are expecting about a dozen people over the next couple of hours. Please charge anything anyone orders on my account,” said Saturn Girl. She held up her right hand for the biometric scan. “Including anything our Durlan friend has already ordered. Is there an additional charge for monopolizing your table for so long?”

“Not for registered guests, ma’am,” the waiter replied. “Or their associates. Would anyone like to order anything now?”

“I’ll have a Guaraná,” said Dorrit. She looked around the table.

“Oh, that sounds good,” said Dacey. “Bring one for me as well.”

“Can I have a burger and fries?” Pol ordered.

“Just water for me… for now,” said Chameleon.

“You are very generous,” Dacey complimented her sister.

“You and I can split the tab fifty-fifty later,” said Dorrit.

CHAPTER FOUR:
DINNER

The family table seemed empty without the three teen-agers.

“We should have done something to stop them.”

“What could we do, Imra?” asked Rokk. “They are of age. They can make their own decisions.”

“Back when it was just the three of us,” Imra retorted, “It was only Braal that granted majority at such a young age. The rest of us needed our parents’ permission. Now it’s the whole Galaxy.”

“Dad, was she like this when Graym and I went away to university?” asked Garridan.

“You weren’t intent on resurrecting the Legend of the Legion,” his father replied. “And Manna-3 is not Earth.”

“Well, I, for one am glad we went to Manna U.,” said Graym. “Otherwise, I never would have met Yvés.”

“And I never would have known what a wonderful world you have here,” said Yvés. “Or what a sweet-talker Graym can be.”

“Every hand we can get is welcome,” said Rokk, “Even if we have to use marriage to get them to stay.”

“What do you think of Pol and Dacey?” asked Lydda. “I’ve always thought there was a little spark between them. Do you think we can trust them? Alone? On far-away Mars?” She winked.

“Oh, Dorrit and Dacey have been like big sisters to Pol,” said Imra. “They do like to keep secrets, though. Or, at least, they like to pretend they can keep secrets. This little project of theirs...”

“Imra, I think you are over-worried about this,” said Lydda. “I suspect this is nothing more than one of those Societies for Creative Anachronism-- like Renaissance Faires, or those groups that try to recreate King Arthur’s times.”

“Except that it’s the children of King Arthur, Guinevere, and Lancelot that are trying to build a new Camelot,” said Imra. “I’m afraid some of our old enemies might still be out there, and may still carry a grudge.”

“I don’t know, Imra,” said Garth. “I’m with Lydda on this one. I suspect it’s just a harmless phase.”

“And it might give them a cold, hard dose of reality,” said Rokk. “Pol seems to think his life on Winath is normal-- and he’s never really wanted for anything. Dorrit and Dacey may be willing to cushion the blow for a while, but their savings won’t last forever. The Galaxy can be a harsh-- and expensive-- place.”

“And if we offer to help him, it will be on your terms?” asked Lydda.

“Our terms,” said Rokk. “We have to see what the future holds, when it comes.”

* * *

“You were quiet during dinner,” said Salu.

“I tend to agree with Imra,” said Ayla. “I lost my brother to the Legion, early on. The fact that they later brought him back… well, it doesn’t erase those months that I felt that he was gone forever.”

“You’re afraid something like that might happen to your nieces, too,” said Salu. “Or Pol.”

“Or our own little Violet,” said Ayla. “Had you ever considered that?”

“But she’s far too young,” said Salu. “She…”

“She’s metahuman,” said Ayla. “And if this New Legion succeeds, it might still be around in a half-dozen years. And she might want to join her cousins.”

“Then let’s hope Rokk and Lydda are right, and they’re just playing out a little fantasy,” said Salu. “And it blows over in time.”

CHAPTER FIVE:
THE ORZDEAN

“Eluia M’Kord, Orzde. Shrinking Violet”

She seemed to Dorrit the stereotypical farm-girl: hefty, broad, and strong-looking. Although, of course, Dorrit and Dacey themselves were farm-girls, and far from stereotypical.

“I got here early this morning,” said the new Shrinking Violet. “This is a pretty small town, to style itself a ‘New Metropolis’.”

“The real Metropolis, on Earth, is a city of ten billion,” said Pol. “My grandfather lives there, so we’ve visited a few times. Of course, the city covers the eastern third of an entire continent, so I haven’t seen much of it.”

“You are Krill, are you not?” asked Chameleon.

“Yes, Orzdeans and Imskians are both Krill,” said Shrinking Violet. “Do you know what the poet said? ‘I am glad my mother taught me Krillic as a lad, so I won’t have to learn it in the Afterlife. For Orzdean Krillic is the language of Heaven, and Imskian Krillic is the language of Hell’”

“I’m not sure I understand,” said Chameleon.

“It means,” said Dacey, “That Orzde and Imsk are like siblings, who sometimes don’t quite get along.”

“I wandered around the town a bit,” said Shrinking Violet. “They have a very nice Ice Cream Shoppe. And they have a Superman Museum, although it’s mostly just VR booths. Is it true that Supergirl was accepted into the original Legion by performing a feat of Archaeology?”

“That’s the sort of thing you learn when being so close to Earth,” said Dorrit. “And yes, it’s true. Excalibur and the Helm of Achilles are in Antonio Stefanacci’s Museum of Mystic Arts in Metropolis, but my mother has Richard the Lion-Heart’s Shield hanging on the wall of her bedroom.”

“Is your costume of some treated material?” asked Chameleon. “I assume it shrinks and grows with you. We have such variable materials on Durla, but they are expensive.”

“Oh, it’s much simpler than that,” Shrinking Violet explained. She picked up a fork from the table, then shrank down to one tenth her size. The fork shrank proportionally as well. “Anything we can carry, we can shrink. Of course, once I let go…” She dropped the fork, and it immediately returned to its normal size.

“Interesting,” said Chameleon. “You know, this ability could be weaponized, in close quarters combat. Could you reduce another full person in size?”

“Weaponized?” Shrinking Violet startled. “Why…”

But her question faded into the air. A sixth member had arrived.

Using Dacey and Dorrit is a great idea, it puts them at about the same age as Pol. Good excuse to keep the Coluan physically off-stage but brains available. I'm also curious about his name and wonder if he'll find a way to put in an appearance; surely you can't keep an ambitious kid down on the farm on Colu. The parents are so believable in their mix of reactions to the kids leaving - and that they were one step ahead of them. Mommy sees everything! Interesting that the Durlan is a bit of a mystery to the others; it emphasizes how distant Durlans are from the rest of the U.P., despite the fact that the kids would likely have been familiar with Reep and Yera. A little bit of Orzdean snobbery re:Imsk - sentients never change! Looking forward to the rest of the team and their first mission.

CHAPTER SIX:
THE BISMOLLEAN

“Hillarie Norjay,” the dark-haired youth introduced himself. “Matter-Eater Lad Two.”

“We kind of hoped to avoid using numbers in our names,” said Lightning Lass. “It would make it rather hard to keep track, in the future.”

“Oh, but it’s completely necessary,” said Matter-Eater Lad Two. “President Kem has trademarked the name ‘Matter-Eater Lad’, and is awfully strict about enforcing it. Fortunately, intellectual property rights on Bismoll are pretty lax, so adding a ‘Two’ completely keeps me out of trouble. I guess I could call myself ‘Kid’, or ‘Boy’, but it just doesn’t have the same musicality.”

“President Kem?” asked Saturn Girl. “I thought his two terms as President of Bismoll were over.”

“It’s an honorific,” said Matter-Eater Lad Two. “One of our greatest former presidents. Do you know he holds the record for attempted assassinations on his person while in office? Six! In ten years! He must have been doing his job, if it was making so many people unhappy.”

“Who held the second-place record?” asked Chameleon.

“President Bridges,” said Matter-Eater Lad Two. “Long before I was born. Just one attempt on his life. Successful.”

He looked around the table. “Wow, are you really the descendants of the original Lightning Lad, Saturn Girl, and Cosmic Boy?”

Dorrit, Dacey, and Pol nodded.

“Wow, your parents knew President Kem when he was just a kid my age. Impressive.” said Matter-Eater Lad Two.

“Do your new guests require service?” asked the waiter, seemingly appearing from nowhere.

“Do you have a plate suitable for Bismolleans?” asked Matter-Eater Lad Two.

“Certainly, sir,” said the waiter. “One of our refrigeration units was serviced yesterday, and there is a box of used parts in the kitchen. Would that be acceptable?”

“Sure, let’s give it a try,” said Matter-Eater Lad Two.

“And the young lady is from the Irulan System?” asked the waiter.

“I’m sorry, I hope I didn’t disturb anyone with my shrinking,” said Shrinking Violet.

“Not at all,” said the waiter. “Look around. This is our slow period. We do have roast elvabird and cornberry sauce in the kitchen. Perhaps a sandwich for you?”

“Oh, that sounds wonderful,” said Shrinking Violet.

“Could you bring me two hundred grams of nutritional yeast, if you have it available?” asked Chameleon. “And fresh water, please.”

“Certainly,” said the waiter. “Is there anything else I can get any of you?”

“We are expecting another half-dozen diners,” said Saturn Girl. “Most of them are already registered with the hotel, I’m sure. Are we overstaying our welcome?”

“As long as you are a registered guest of the Grand Marshall Hotel,” said the waiter, “Consider our house your home, and your guests our friends.”

CHAPTER SEVEN:
THE BGZTLR

The Phantom Girl appeared out of thin air.

“Oh, this place is nice,” she said, looking around. “The motel on Gzbk is only fair-to-middling.”

“Giz-Back?” Chameleon inquired.

“Gzbk,” said Phantom Girl. It’s the equivalent of Mars, in Bgztl’s dimension. Inhabiting the same space, but at a different… frequency. I’ve been staying on the other side for the last two days, waiting for the rest of you to arrive. Irinia Apero, aka NewPhantomGirl.”

“We’re meeting again tomorrow noon at the shore of the Hellespont Sea,” said Saturn Girl. “I’ll be sending out maps to everyone’s mail tonight. Will you be staying Mars-side, or in -er- Gzbk tonight?”

“Oh, Gzbk, certainly,” said Phantom Girl. “A credit goes so much farther in my home dimension.”

“Durlans seem pretty independent of hotels, at least Chameleon does,” said Saturn Girl. “Does anyone need to register here?”

“Orzdeans carry their houses with them,” said Shrinking Violet. “My earrings double as comfortable, portable camping trailers.”

“I, um, need to register, I guess,” said Matter-Eater Lad 2.

“I’m booked all by myself in a double room,” said Cosmic Boy. “It would be a shame to waste it. You can stay with me, tonight.”

“Oh, that’s a relief,” said Matter-Eater Lad 2. “This is a really nice place. These nuts they served were delicious. Nickel-plated, molybdenum and titanium steel. And some tungsten wiring to go with them, too. Really good.”

“Well, we are all booked in,” said a new voice. Or rather, voices.

CHAPTER EIGHT:
THE CARGGGANS

“This is Ffionna, Ffarrah, and Ffey Ffarr, our Triplicate Girls,” said Saturn Girl.

“It is now a well-known fact,” said Ffiona, “That there are certain Cargggans who have very dissimilar personalities among their three selves. We are rather at the extreme of that. It is… uncomfortable for us to be united. We prefer to live our lives separately. And so we do.”

“For the most part,” said Ffey. “I mean, we love each other. We still want to be together-- we’re sisters, after all-- just not together together, if you know what I mean.”

“Unfortunately, we were outsiders-- even pariahs on Carggg,” said Ffionna. “Shunned or bullied by family and peers alike. Well-meaning adults trying to ‘fix’ us. Shuttled from one tri-psychiatrist to another, even. As soon as we could, we took the Stipend, and our One Free Flight here.”

“The flight here was torture,” said Ffey. “We only had one ticket-- we had to stay fused for days.”

“One Free Flight?” asked Cosmic Boy. “I’m not sure I know what that is.”

“No doubt coming from a First-World Planet, to you three, it is unfamiliar,” interjected Chameleon. “However, when most youth reach Majority, they are offered a free one-way flight to any other U.P. world. It is supposed to encourage economic opportunity and diversity. I imagine your father, coming from Braal, made use of this same program in his trip to Earth. Most people, of course, eventually save up the money for the return flight home themselves. The call of a familiar, home culture is strong.”

Lightning Lass, Saturn Girl and Cosmic Boy shifted uneasily. It was true that they had had no knowledge of or experience with the One Free Flight program: although their parents had undoubtedly taken advantage of it: it had led to the formation of the Old Legion.

“Are they still serving lunch?” asked Ffarrah. “I’m starved. And the food on our flight was atrocious.”

“Order whatever you like,” said Lightning Lass. “Our treat, for today.”

“Say no more!” said Ffarrah, plopping down in a chair. “Life is short. Dessert first!”

“Tell us,” said Saturn Girl, “Why you wanted to join the Legion.”

There was an empty chair next to Saturn Girl. Ffey took it. “It was hard on Carggg,” she explained. “The Old Legion was renowned as a welcoming, accepting haven for unique individuals-- some of them even the last of their race. It was a place to go for some kids who had no other place to go. A place where diversity was prized, not criticized. We hope this group can be the same. A surrogate home and family for us.”

Saturn Girl and Lightning Lass exchanged glances. “We never really thought of it like that…” Lightning Lass began. Saturn Girl subtly shushed her.

“Of course, we want to explore our powers, too,” said Ffiona. “And maybe learn how we can use them to the benefit of others. That’s what the Old Legion was all about, wasn’t it?”

“Adventure,” said Ffarrah, through a mouthful of whipped cream. “Free food! And a way to meet guys,” she laughed.

CHAPTER NINE:
THE THARRITE

“I knew Mars was cold, but it is freezing in this hotel,” said Zylda Kimm. She was dressed in the standard fur-trimmed violet thermal suit. “Do they have to keep the thermostat so low?”

“It’s 20c in here,” said Lightning Lass. “I’m afraid that’s a standard temperature on most Terran worlds. On Winath, it never gets over 40c, even in the hottest part of summer.”

“Wow,” said Zylda Kimm. “On Tharr, it never gets below 90c, even at night. I guess I need to buy another heavy coat, and maybe even a thermal belt, too. Do you think I could order some hot soup, and some peppered cocoa?”

“You are calling yourself ‘Polar Power’?” asked Lightning Lass.

“I was thinking ‘Polaris’,” said Zylda Kimm. “‘Polar Girl’ just doesn’t do it for me.”

“The rest of us are Saturn Girl, Cosmic Boy, Chameleon, Shrinking Violet, Matter-Eater Lad Two, Phantom Girl, the Triplicate Girls, and I’m Lightning Lass. I think it would be good to start using those names when we address each other.”

“Hm. Shrinking Violet,” said the newly self-christened Polaris. “Not sure I get the reference.”

“It refers to a little purple flower from the northern regions of Earth,” said Saturn Girl. “It is so delicate and sensitive that it withers with a touch. ‘Shrinking’ away, as it were. It’s a classic superhero name.”

“Although ‘sensitive’ and ‘delicate’ doesn’t really describe Aunt Salu at all,” said Lightning Lass. “More like ‘Shrinking Violent Temper’”

“Oh, come on,” said Saturn Girl. “There was just that one time. And you did drop their baby down the stairs.”

Lightning Lass shifted uncomfortably.

“Tomorrow, we’ll show you all the clubhouse,” said Saturn Girl.

* * *

The Ranzz twins sat alone together in their room.

“Is that what the Old Legion was?” asked Lightning Lass. “A refuge for misfits and oddballs? Is that what these people are expecting of us? A place to hide from the world?”

“Well, in the original Legion there were some… unique… individuals,” said Saturn Girl. “Wildfire for one. Timber Wolf. Ultra Boy. Even Brainiac 5. Blok, Element Lad, Kid Psycho, all the last of their respective races. Superboy and Supergirl, too, as far as that goes. With this group, only Chameleon and the Triplicate Girls, it seems.”

“'Matter-Eater Lad Two' does strike me as a little off,” said Lightning Lass.

“No, I think all Bismolleans are like that,” said Saturn Girl.

CHAPTER TEN:
DARKNESS

Garth saw that Imra had opened her music-box again.

It was not really a music box. But Garth like to think of it that way. He had a hard time thinking about what it really was.

Inside the largish wooden box, banded with gold, were two dozen tiny statues of Legionnaires. They were not statues, per se, but manufactured solid micro-isomorphic simulcra, and therefore contained, in a sense, a spark of the essence of each Legionnaire represented.

And they were all simulcra of the dead Legionnaires. Imra’s personal Shanghalla.

Imra was not really crying, but her eyes were wet with unshed tears, which she occasionally wiped away.

“I see you have added Reep and Lluornu,” Garth commented. “They didn’t really die as Legionnaires-- Reep has been gone less than a year.”

“I will honor my missing friends as I choose,” said Imra. “And Lluornu died at least three times as a Legionnaire, enough for any Cargggan. You weren’t with her at the end. It was terrible, Garth. What they did to her on Ventura… some of the duplicates she summoned at the end were… wrong…”

Garth put his hand on his wife’s shoulder. “It’s been months since you opened that box. Why now, all of a sudden? Why are you mourning our all friends again, some of them gone years now?”

“Half the Legion,” said Imra. “We should have disbanded after Ferro Lad. Oh, I started scanning applicant’s personality profiles for martyr complexes, but… then Chemical King. We didn’t learn.”

“We were idealistic kids,” said Garth. “We thought we were invulnerable. And if the Legion had disbanded after I died… well, I’d still be dead, right.”

“And what hubris to bring two dead heroes ten centuries into the future into our Legion?” said Imra. She collapsed into her husband’s arms. “Oh, Garth, I don’t want our children to be the next totems in this box,” she cried.

“Imra, of course I don’t either,” said Garth, “But I’m concerned about your obsession with this. Nothing bad had happened. I’m concerned about these dark thoughts-- that the darkness that was once within you may be re-surfacing. Please don’t dwell on these morbid thoughts. Have faith that our children will be okay.”

“Mordru. The Trapper. Darkseid,” Imra recited. “They could have killed us all with a glance, with the wave of a hand. We are only alive because none of them thought we were worth the effort. Because they just wanted us to bow down to them.”

Garth took his wife’s shoulders. “Imra, I found that shrine to Darkseid you have hidden out in our woods. I don’t think this obsession with Darkseid can be doing you any good.”

“He gave us our son back,” said Imra defiantly. “But I don’t worship him. Not really. Well, yes, there is the shrine. But not in my heart. I just don’t want Garridan to taken away again. Not our son.”

“And whose son is that locked in the inertron cage now on Takron-Galtos?” Garth inquired.

“Look, we don’t know where that other Fatal Five came from, all those years ago,” said Imra. “I can’t think about it; I can’t care anymore. I want my family safe. I want Graym and Yvés to be confident enough in the future to have our grand-kids. I want Ayla and Salu to have another baby. And Rokk and Lydda, too. I want Garridan to find some nice, homey Winathan farm girl and settle down. I want Mekt to find some nice girl and settle down! I want the Farms to be so full of little Ranzzes and Krinns and Digbys that Rokk will stop complaining about how short-handed we are. But I’m afraid, Garth. I’m afraid it’s starting all over again, and Dacey and Dorrit and Pol and their friends are setting themselves up as targets.”

Garth had nothing to say.

* * *

“I’m just saying,” said Salu, “What lasting good did the Legion really accomplish? Sunwoman Tyranntrix is back ruling Vannar; Mordru is chairing the council on the new Sorcerer’s World. The Xenophobes still hold seats in the Parliament on Earth. Politics goes on. People don’t learn. All the Legion’s efforts to ‘save’ people from themselves…”

“Don’t listen to her, little sister,” said Mekt Ranzz, suddenly intruding on the conversation. “The Legion did good in its time. It made a difference, at least in my life. It is because of the Legion that I am living the happy life of a farmer, with my family here on Winath. Eve is equally happy on Bismoll, and LaEvar is… well… he… will… not… be a… problem… any… more... How do we know that this is the real Mordru anyway? Nothing was found of Zerox but rubble, with Validus floating in the midst. You know that magicians never use their real names. The real Mordru may be dead and gone… as… well… I think I have some work to do out in the North Sector. How could I have forgotten it?”

Mekt paused for a moment, appearing disoriented. He then exited the way he had come in.

“Most of the time, I think the reprogramming is wonderful,” said Ayla. “He is usually so cheerful and content all the time. But sometimes I wonder.”

OK, if I were constructing this story according to the proper conventions of good writing, I would have skipped all the ham-handed characterizations*, and gone straight from Chapter One to Chapter Eleven, where something actually happens.

However, as this is fan fiction, I am allowed to indulge myself, and simply brain-dump all the background material I have generated for these characters and this story.

* I was going to use the word 'fanwankery', but it has an obscene etymology, and is inappropriate for polite company. So I won't even mention it.

CHAPTER ELEVEN:
THE CLUBHOUSE

The Martian Hellespont, formerly known as Hellas Planitia, is a lake over a million square miles in area, and nearly six miles deep. One entry point was only a forty-minute walk from New Metropolis.

The water stretched to the horizon, more like an ocean than a sea. The walk had been through a verdant flourishing marsh. The eleven youths stopped atop a small ridge slightly above the water line. A short beach of red sand stretched out to the sea.

“This is where we will place our clubhouse,” said Saturn Girl. “Mars is still a colonial world, and we can legally homestead rights to unclaimed land, if we show we have ‘substantially developed’ it, over the course of a Martian year. I think what you are about to see will be a good first step.”

Cosmic Boy took a seat in a folding chair they had brought for the purpose. Lightning Lass put her hands on his shoulders.

“Our parents never tried combining their powers like this,” said Saturn Girl. “But Pol and Dacey have been practicing since they were toddlers.”

Traces of electricity crackled down Cosmic Boy’s shoulders, down his chest, and along his outstretched arms. His face contorted with strain; his eyes closed.

“Dacey’s electrical powers are supplementing Pol’s magnetism,” Saturn Girl explained. Out toward the horizon, just at the edge of vision, there was a bubbling in the sea.

“The Old Legion used to give the Legion of Substitute Heroes a first bid on their retired cruisers,” Saturn Girl explained. “Some of the Subs were fairly well off, I understand. The Subs crashed one old Mark II cruiser into the bottom of the sea here. The insurance company never fully recovered it. Now we’re salvaging it for our own use.”

An object broke the distant surface. Slowly, a red, rusted Mark II Legion cruiser floated along the surface of the water toward the group.

“This will be our clubhouse,” Saturn Girl announced.

The cruiser rested longwise on the clifftop, crushing vegetation beneath it.

“Polaris,” said Saturn Girl, “I think you can help by freezing the water off the interior and exterior. The Triplicate Girls can help you get it outside. Matter-Eater Lad 2, there look to be a lot of barnacles that have taken up residence on the hull. Can you bite them off? Once Pol and my sister have recovered, they can help with cleanup as well. Chameleon, I imagine you can assume some sort of very useful form?”

“The power core and propulsion engines have already been salvaged,” said Chameleon, from the rear of the cruiser. “But there still appears to be a battery of decalithium cells that Lightning Lass might be able to recharge. That would supply power to whatever onboard systems may still be working, or whatever else we may install.”

Unseen by the teens, a trail of bubbles, originating at the point the cruiser had risen from the sea, were rapidly approaching the land.

“I made a stop by a junkyard on Earth before coming to Mars,” said Phantom Girl. She opened a large pouch she had brought with her luggage from the hotel.

It was a large placard reaking “SUPER HERO CLUBHOUSE”.

“What is that!?” Shrinking Violet cried, pointing out to sea.

“It’s the original…Oh!” cried Phantom Girl.

Emerging onto the red-sanded beach was a broad, green ape-like creature. There was a moment of perspective confusion, but the Legionnaires soon realized that the creature was fully ten or twelve feet high.

“It’s a Martian M’Mannix,” said Chameleon. “But they are supposed to have been extinct for five thousand years.”

The others gaped at him.

“What?” said Chameleon. “You think I don’t study the fauna of a planet before I visit it? Those things are dangerous. They are said to be twice as strong and the aboriginal Martians. Also thought to be extinct. But that is nearly Daxamite-class strength.”

The would-be teen heroes sprang into uncoordinated action.

Chameleon assumed the form of the M’Mannix. “They were very territorial,” was the explaination. “Maybe the sight of another of its kind will cause it to go elsewhere.”

Matter-Eater Lad 2 was running down the beach. “I’ll attack its Achilles Heel,” he called. He bit a large gouge out of the creature’s heel, which only resulted in his being kicked high into the air.

The M’Mannix blew two fireballs from its prominent nostrils.

“Oh, yeah, flaming snot,” said Chameleon, torso reforming into an ‘O’ shape. The flames passed through harmlessly, but vegetation behind caught fire. Polaris reacted immediately, cooling the flames.

Lightning Lass had begun flashing bolts at the creature. It fell to its knees, gripping its face in apparent pain.

Cosmic Boy, meanwhile had ripped a fin off the cruiser with his super-magnetism, and was using it like a flying surfboard to rescue Matter-Eater Lad 2, bringing him safely to the ground.

“Wait,” said Saturn Girl. “Stop attacking. Can’t you see it’s in pain?” She paused a moment. “It’s burned it's own nose,” she reported. “Since Mars was terraformed, the atmosphere contains much more oxygen, making its nose-flares much hotter. And Martian life-forms were notoriously sensitive to fire anyway.”

The M’Mannix abruptly sat down on the sand, still rubbing its nose, but noticeably calmer.

“I’ve got in under mental control,” said Saturn Girl. “It has a fairly simple mind. Can someone contact the zoo in Marsopolis, and see if they can come pick him up? It’s not too hard to keep him calm, but I’m going to have to sleep sometime.”

“Wouldn’t Agyre City be closer?” asked Phantom Girl. “I think they have a big zoo there.”

“Sure, that would be great,” said Saturn Girl. “And can somebody order a half-dozen pizzas from that place in New Metropolis? Prospero’s? The poor thing is really hungry.”

CHAPTER TWELVE:
FALLOUT

“Eleven teen-agers from seven worlds have formed what they describe as a ‘Super Hero Club’ headquartered near the City of New Metropolis on Mars.
Operating out of a repurposed antique space-cruiser, their adventures have already resulted in the discovery and donation of a so-called ‘Living Fossil’ to the Olympus Mons Wildlife Preserve.
What else may the Galaxy expect in the future from this new ‘Legion of Super-Heroes’?”

“Well, that’s it, I suppose,” said Saturn Girl. “We had hoped to keep a low profile by only calling ourselves a ‘Super Hero Club’, but now I suppose we are the ‘New Legion of Super-Heroes’.”

“Well, your parents were Legionnaires,” noted Shrinking Violet. “Someone was bound to make the connection sooner or later.”

“I can’t believe they got my name wrong,” Polaris complained, looking over the remainder of the article. “They’re calling me ‘Polar Lass’. I ought to track down that reporter and ice his ears!”

“‘Polar Lass’ is probably fine,” said Cosmic Boy. “Dorrit and Dacey’s dad was ‘Lightning Boy’, until the press changed it. Liked the alliteration, I guess.”

“So when do we start try-outs?” asked Matter-Eater Lad 2. “That is a venerable Legion tradition. Besides, we could use some help cleaning up our clubhouse. I found a starfish under one of the main consoles this morning.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” said Lightning Lass. “Maybe once a Martian week, for starters? Maybe every Mixcoatlsday?”

* * *

“Well, that’s it, I suppose,” said Imra Ardeen-Ranzz. “Only one day, and they’ve got themselves at the top of the Galactic News Feed.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN:
TRYOUTS, FIRST WEEK: TEN

The first day of tryouts was disappointing.

The Club really had imagined that their brief moment of positive publicity would have brought aspiring teen heroes out of the woodwork. As it was, they set up a makeshift dais on the beach, with seats for the three founders, and waited all day in vain. Even before lunchtime, most of the group went back to cleaning and refurbishing the old cruiser, setting up their private rooms, installing the AutoChef®, solid printer, and so forth.

However, as the weak sun was setting in the pink Martian sky, a hovercab pulled up, and let out a small passenger.

He was clearly Coluan, green-skinned and bald, and stood only about 110 centimeters high. He wore a purple-and-lavender jumpsuit, with a small ten-of-diamonds playing card over the right breast. He was accompanied by what appeared to be a floating camera.

“10.diamonds@vvw70kyod.rl.colunet.up,” said the little Coluan.

Saturn Girl slapped her forehead. “I was expecting someone older and taller,” she said.

“How old are you?” asked Lightning Lass.

“Four and one-quarter Sola-Years, exactly,” said the little Coluan. “I am as surprised to be here as you are. It appears that my Adult Guardian is of a more liberal turn of mind than I had supposed.”

“You’re seven?” said Saturn Girl. “Seven years, Terran Standard?”

“Yes,” said the little Coluan. “After hearing of your adventure with the M’Mannix, my Adult Guardian allowed me to come and join your Super Hero Club. Provided, of course, that I was accompanied by a surrogate Guardian.” He indicated the floating robot. “This is Mr. Andrews, my cybernetic ‘nanny’. My Guardian has a rather odd sense of humor.”

“Pleased to meet you, Club Members,” said the robot. “Everything young Txarlz says is correct. He is here in perfect compliance with all laws and regulations of Colu, Mars, and the United Planets.”

“Txalrz?” asked Saturn Girl.

“Txalz Luz of Colu. However, I would like to use the name ‘Ten’.”

“Because you are our tenth member?” asked Lightning Lass.

“Because of my tenth-level intellect,” said Ten. “I would not be so presumptuous as to call myself ‘Brainiac’. That title is for the twelfth-level intellects of the Dox heritage.” He indicated the playing-card embroidered on his shirt. “I took this as my emblem. It is based on an old Terran child’s game, called ‘Bicycles’.”

Saturn Girl smiled. “I believe you would be better understood by referring to another card game: ‘Solitaire’. I can show you how to play it on our ships computers.”

Ten pulled out an Omnicom, and tapped quickly on its screen. “Ah, yes, I see my mistake,” he said. “The follies of youth. ‘Solitaire’, thank you.”

“I suppose you are already technically a member of the Club, as you were part of the original mail-group,” said Saturn Girl. “Let me have you meet the rest of us IRL, though. Some of us may have some concerns about your surprising age.”

“I assure you that it is my first priority to keep the young master safe,” said Mr. Andrews. “And to assure that this is a worthwhile learning experience for him..”

Ten seemed particularly excited about meeting Chameleon.

“My Adult Guardian specializes in Durlan Biochemistry. A fascinating topic. Gamma-helical protein structures, gemmule-based inheritance factors…”

“Txarlz,” said Mr. Andrews.

Ten paused. “Ah. Hmn. An impolite topic for formal conversation. Yes. It is so difficult to internalize all the rule. Durlans only, Mr. Andrews, or for everyone?”

“Everyone,” said Chameleon. “Except Coluans, I suppose.”

“Ah. Yes. Hmn. How has the weather been on Mars?”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN:
NIGHT JOURNEY

“I’ll need your help on this,” said Saturn Girl.

She closed her eyes, and entered a trance as her mother had taught her. Anchoring herself in her sister’s mind, she stepped out into the cosmos.

The small green star known as Yod was some distance away, but she oriented on it quickly. She found the planet Colu orbiting nearby. It was now a matter of finding the right mind.

She appeared to be standing in a large warehouse. Not standing, exactly, as her feet did not touch the floor. One wall seemed to be an impregnable steel barrier. The floor was littered with half-finished ideas, unanswered questions, broken dreams, and fragments of mathematical equations.

“Well, if I had known I was going to have visitors, I would have tidied up a little bit,” said the old Coluan.

“I don’t have much time,” said the astral projection. “I am Dorrit Ardeen Ranzz or Winath. You are Renlo Tagor, the Adult Guardian of Txalrz Luz?”

“I am,” said Renlo Tagor. “I have so many questions.”

“I have only one,” said the ghost of Saturn Girl. “Did you actually permit him to travel to Mars? It would not be beyond the ability of a seven-year-old Coluan to re-program a Robo-Nanny himself.”

“Oh, Mr. Andrews is quite sentient, in his own way,” said Renlo Tagor. “He would strenuously resist re-programming. Why not just send me a sub-space telegram?”

“Communications through Tech can be easily tampered with,” said the phantom. “Especially by Coluans. Telepathic communication, not so much.”

Renlo Tagor chuckled. “I must admit I am impressed. You are still on Mars?”

“Yes, and I need to return there. Thank you.”

Half a hundred parsecs melted away in an instant. Saturn Girl opened her eyes in her own room, in her own bed.

“How do I look?” she asked Lightning Lass.

“Sweating. Trembling. Like you just woke up from a nightmare,” her sister replied. “Have a glass of water.”

“Nothing unusual, then?”

“Your eyes are a little bloodshot. You’ll probably feel better after some sleep. That Renlo Tagor read out as quite a character.”

“Despite his assurances, I am conflicted about such accepting such a young child as a member,” said Saturn Girl. “Even if he is a Coluan.”

“And supposedly a tenth-level intellect,” said Lightning Lass. “We need to keep an eye on ‘Mr. Andrews’ as well. The Galaxy has had bad luck with sentient Coluan computers. And then there are the Triplicate Girls.”

“I am perfectly aware of the issues with the Triplicate Girls,” said Saturn Girl. “If you remember, I am the one who brought it to your attention.”

Renlo Tagor examined the steel wall in the outer chamber of his mind. It was sprayed with graffiti.

“Your psychic shields need an upgrade”

A large block of the wall had been transformed into a picture window. An electric rainbow of racing thoughts was visible within.

“Thank you for the warning, young lady,” Renlo Tagor said to himself. “I hope Txarlz is not too much trouble.”

These characters have taken up residence in my mind, and I can see them very clearly.

Unfortunately, I am a lousy artist, and so I have difficultly conveying their physicality.

However, here are some web pictures that may give you an idea of my inspiration for their faces, at least.





Top Row, Left to Right:

(1) Dorrit Ranzz of Winath (Amartan System), Saturn Girl
(2) Dacey Ranzz of Winath, Lightning Lass
(3) Pol Krinn of Winath (Braalien / Kathooni heritage), Cosmic Boy
(4) Chameleon of Durla
(5) Eluia M;Kord of Orzde (Irulan System), Shrinking Violet
(6) Hillarie Norjay of Bismoll, Matter-Eater Lad Two

Bottom Row, Left to Right:
(1) Irinia Apero of Bgztl, Phantom Girl
(2 - 4) Ffiona, Ffarrah & Ffey Ffarr of Carggg, the Triplicate Girls
(5) Kylda Zimm of Tharr, Polaris / Polar Lass
(6) 7-year-old Txarlz Luz of Colu (Yod System), Ten

I had originally thought this might run about fifty chapters.

But I have had a vision of their future, and it may run around two hundred.

So unless I have a relapse, or have to leave the country again, this is going to go on for a long, long time.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN:
BORED MEETING

Tyresday was the day which had been decided on to hold their weekly Club meeting. Saturn Girl was agreed upon as Leader and Chair.

“As I said before,” Saturn Girl was saying, “I’m glad things went well with the M’Mannix, but our actions were chaotic and uncoordinated. It could have been much worse. Matter-Eater Lad was in serious danger…”

“Two,” said Matter-Eater Lad Two. “Matter-Eater Lad Two.”

“Maybe we should just call you Two?” Saturn Girl retorted.

“Sure, why not?,” said Matter-Eater Lad Two. “We already have a Ten.”

“If we’re going to go by numbers,” said Shrinking Violet, “Lightning Lass should be Two. That would make me Five.”

“We’re not going to go by numbers,” said Saturn Girl. “Matter-Eater Lad was…”

“Two,” said Matter-Eater Lad Two. “Matter-Eater Lad Two. It’s an intellectual property thing.”

“We have a lot to cover,” said Saturn Girl in frustration. “Training. Security. We need to file the paperwork regarding our homesteading with MarsGov this land. We need to register as an official, non-profit, philanthropic organization, with a mission statement and long-term goals. We need to write a Constitution, formally vote on officers, decide on an Oath and a Flag. Set out specific goals for the club. We…”

“What if we don’t?” asked Ten.

“I thought that’s what we were here for,” said Saturn Girl. “To create a new…”

“Oh, yes, by all means, let’s homestead the Clubhouse,” the Coluan answered. “But what if we don’t register as an official anything? What if we have no Constitution, no charter, no mission statement, no official goals? What if we’re just twelve friends from various worlds, combining our Stipends, living together to defray costs as we finish our schooling? What if no one knows what we’re really up to out here, far from the centers of the United Planets?”

“What are we really up to out here?” asked Triplicate Girl (Ffiona).

“My point exactly,” said Ten.

“But we need to organize ourselves. Train. Make sure we’re prepared,” insisted Lightning Lass.

“Prepared for what?” asked Phantom Girl. “Helping to round up escaped zoo animals? Cleaning up after natural disasters? Fighting crime? Regime change? Fighting back alien invasions? Leading alien invasions?”

“Our power to temporarily fuse into a single person is not particularly useful in wartime,” Triplicate Girl (Fey) noted.

“You three are all quite powerful,” Chameleon noted, indicating the Founders. “I was suitably impressed by Lightning Lass and Cosmic Boy’s ability to draw up a space-cruiser from nearly ten kilometers beneath the ocean. Polar Lass, although somewhat untrained in the use of her powers, is intimidating as well. I suppose I could be quite devastating in hand-to-hand combat, if I wished. The remainder of us have fairly mundane abilities.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” said Saturn Girl. “We need to train- learn to use our powers- work together- be prepared for… well, anything. To be Heroes.”

“To re-create the Legend of the Legion,” said Cosmic Boy. “Isn’t that why we’re here?”

Phantom Girl sent a glance at Ten. The little Coluan smiled. “But,” she said, “Does everyone have to know that that is why we’re here? Why not keep them guessing?”

Ten nodded. “Why 'paint a bull’s-eye on our backs'?”

“You’ve been studying your idiom, Ten,” said Cosmic Boy.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN:
TRYOUTS, SECOND WEEK: THE JUSTICE LEAGUE OF EARTH

The second Mixcoatlsday began as unpromisingly as the first.

Shortly after lunch, however, they had unexpected visitors.

“Doctor Shakespeare. Princess Xenobia. Jordana Gardner. Aren’t you all a little old to be joining a teen Super Hero Club?”

“Saturn Girl,” said Kent Shakespeare, “This is a courtesy call. We want you to know that you have our full support.”

“As long as you truly are heroes,” said the Princess. “And not rabble-rousers.”

“The name of our Club is... aspirational,” Saturn Girl explained. “We all have particular gifts-- not necessarily unique, but special. We want to learn to use them… well. Mars seemed a good place. Colonized, with appropriate services and amenities, but with plenty of open frontier, too.”

“And close to Earth,” Kent Shakespeare noted. “The League would be happy to assist you in training, and the appropriate use of your gifts.”

“Thank you so much, but I’m afraid we will have to decline, for now,” said Saturn Girl. “We want to be independent for at least a little while. Get our feet, as it were.”

“You have an Irulan Krill, a Durlan, and a Bgztlr on your team,” said Jordana Gardner. “Do you think they can be trusted?”

“If I remember my history,” said Saturn Girl, “The Founders of the Justice League of Earth also questioned whether Saturnians or Winathans could be trusted.”

“One of our Founders was a Legionnaire,” Jordana Gardner replied. “We understand the history of the Legions.”

“And both my parents were Legionnaires,” said Saturn Girl. “But this is not the Legion. This is just a Super Hero Club. And again, the name is aspirational.”

“I hope,” said Kent Shakespeare, “That your Club does not become a tool of dangerous political entities.”

“And I hope,” said Saturn Girl, “That you will consider that the Earth First Party may be wrong.”

“We have a right to defend and preserve our Terran culture,” said Kent Shakespeare.

“Good-bye,” said Saturn Girl. “Oh, and we have a Coluan now, too. You seemed interested. I thought you should know.”

The three Justice Leaguers hovered for several minutes, after the Club Members returned to their Clubhouse. Then they were gone.

* * *

The Justice League of Earth
(Current Membership)
(All in their 40’s or 50’s)

(1) “Doctor Shakespeare”
Richard Kent Shakespeare of Earth
Superman Analog

(2) “Princess Xenobia”
Princess Xenobia of Io, portal to the Themiscryan diaspora
Wonder Woman Analog

(3) “Green Lantern of Sector 2814”
Jordana Gardner of Earth
Green Lantern Analog

(4) “The Bat-Woman”
Plutonian bat-winged, squid-headed woman, true name and abilities unknown.
Evidently some sort of mutant Terran.
Vouched for by Dr. Shakespeare
Batman Analog

(5) “Rush”
Mara Williams of Earth
Flash Analog

(6) “Devil-Fish”
Danava Matsya of Earth (Atlantis)
Mutant Terran (Atlantean)
Aquaman Analog

(7) “The Cyborg Manhunter”
Victoria Jones of Earth
A fusion of an Earth human and an Oan Manhunter robot technology
Cyborg Analog

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:
GZBK

The Prospero’s Pizza delivery boy was not expecting a large tip. His expectations proved correct.

Phantom Girl lay the pizzas down on the kitchen table.

“I don’t suppose you could give us a lift back to town?” she asked. “You are going that way anyway, right?”

“Sure, I guess that’s OK,” said the pizza boy. “I’m going straight back to the shop, though. This was my last delivery this run.”

“Prospero’s is not far from the Public Transportation Nexus, right?” said Phantom Girl. “That’s where we’re headed.”

“Yeah, only a couple blocks,” said the pizza boy. As they climbed into the back of his flyer, he asked, “Why is your little brother green?”

“If you look closely, you’ll see his skin is not really green,” said Phantom Girl. “It’s yellow, with close-set blue freckles.”

“My freckles are actually teal,” Ten corrected her. He held Mr. Andrews on his lap, as the flyer sped off.



They left for the country in a hoverbus. Ten let Mr. Andrews roam the cabin freely.

“Why did you do that?” asked Ten.

“Do what?” asked Phantom Girl.

“Convince that pizza deliverer to give us a ride into town.”

“It was only a few miles.”

“Yes, a taxi would have been quite inexpensive. Even for the both of us.”

“You may have an allowance,” said Phantom Girl, “But I have only the Stipend. Besides, it was fun.”

“Fun,” said Ten. “Like when you stood up and screamed, when the truck hit Mach-point-two.”

“Exactly like that,” said Phantom Girl.

“You must get along well with the Triplicate Girls,” Ten observed.

“Yeah, I do,” said Phantom Girl. “Ffey and Ffarrah, at least. Ffiona’s kind of stuck up.”

Agyre City was larger than New Metropolis, but surrounded by farmland, giving it a more rural feel. They stopped in front of a library.

“Take my hand,” said Phantom Girl. “And hold onto Mr. Andrews.”

Ten felt as though he were falling, then floating then falling again. Agyre City faded into grey mists, then something else emerged. He jerked involuntarily as his feet felt the ground underneath him again, and almost lost his balance before realizing they had not been falling at all.

“Welcome to Gzbk,” said Phantom Girl.

There was an older woman working in the yard of the brightly-painted house in front of them. A very young girl was amusing herself on the lawn with a mechanical horse.

“Gammy,” said the little girl, “He’s green!”

“That’s because he’s from Colu, dear,” said the older woman. She stood up. ‘Stately’ was the word that crossed Phantom Girl’s mind. “Irinia Apero?” the older woman inquired. “And Txarlz Luz, correct? Of the ‘Super Hero Club’. Or is it the New Legion of Super-Heroes?”

“Mrs. Nah?” asked Phantom Girl. “Just a club, for now.”

Mrs. Nah removed her gardening gloves, and shook the teen-ager’s hands. She nodded at the little girl playing in the yard. “My grand-daughter, Winema,” she said. “Her parents are visiting for Summer Break. My son Dav and his wife are shopping in town right now. Ordinarily they are enrolled at Xgztl University.”

Two teens about Phantom Girl’s age came barrelling through the front door.

“I’m on my way to Zeta’s,” called the girl over her shoulder, racing down the street.

“My daughter, Arna,” said Mrs. Nah, as the girls back disappeared into the distance. “And this is…”

“Ronin Nah,” said the tallish boy to Phantom Girl. “Arna’s my sister.”

“Irinia Apero,” said Phantom Girl. “Hi.”

“You new around here?” asked Ronin.

“Um… I live over on the Mars side,” said Phantom Girl. “Out in New Metropolis.”

“Oh, you’re her,” said Ronin. “Well, Gzbk is OK, too.” He turned to his mother. “I’m taking the old car down to the Mall, OK?”

“Be home in time for dinner,” said Mrs. Nah. Ronin jumped into a convertible hovercar and sped off.

“Come inside,” said Mrs. Nah, brushing a stray gray hair away. “I’ve made some hoa tea, and we have cookies.”

“Everyone thinks Arna and Ronin are twins, but they’re actually a year-and-a-half apart,” said Mrs. Nah, when they were settled. Winema sat munching happily on a cookie.

“Is your husband home?” asked Phantom Girl.

“Jo’s at work,” said Mrs. Nah. “He has an auto repair shop downtown. He likes to keep busy. He would have liked to have Dav apprentice with him, but he’s decided on chemical engineering. Maybe Ronin or Arna, but neither of them have shown much interest either. It’s a nice little business. It would be a shame if we had to close it when he retires.”

“But surely you’re not that old,” said Phantom Girl. “You’re not thinking of retirement yet.”

Mrs. Nah laughed. “No, not for a couple of decades yet. But you would be surprised how fast time flies. We’re always thinking about the future.”

“Are any of your children… ‘ultra’?” asked Ten.

“Jo’s powers started fading after we permanently moved to Bgztl,” said Mrs. Nah. “We don’t know why. None of the children inherited any of them. Winema’s a perfectly normal little Bgzltr as well, which makes her great-grandmother happy.”

Winema heard her name. “Gammy,” she said, “‘nother cookie… [u]please[/i]?”

“Yes, dear,” said Mrs. Nah, “But you have to finish your milk, too.” She took a sip of tea. “R.J. Brande gave a group of green teen-agers military-grade ships and weaponry,” she said. “I don’t know what he was thinking. Well, I do know what he was thinking, actually.”

“What was that?” asked Phantom Girl.

“It’s common knowledge that Mr. Brande was a Durlan,” said Mrs. Nah. “But what you may not know is that he was a 2Oth-century Durlan, with all the stereotypical 2Oth-century Durlan attitudes. He thought that force was a legitimate solution to ethical problems. He wanted to re-create the Age of Heroes in our century. He had actually briefly known Mon-El as a boy, and conflated his history with that of Earth’s Superman and Supergirl, whom he had only heard of. It was an impossible legend to live up to, but we tried.”

“Was he really that old?” said Ten. "I've never heard of any Durlans with such a lifespan."

“Time-travel, dear,” said Mrs. Nah. “It’s a long story, and I don’t particularly want to get into it right now. His motives, from his perspective, were absolutely pure, completely philanthropic. But the end result was a lot of unnecessary burdens being placed on some very young and very idealistic shoulders. I actually left the Legion before it was finally disbanded. Jo stayed until the bitter end.”

“Do you think we’re making a mistake, then?’ said Phantom Girl. “Dorrit and Dacey’s parents certainly do.”

“I don’t know what you’re doing,” said Mrs. Nah. “And I haven't seen Imra in years. I won’t judge. I certainly don’t want to be an Adult Advisor, but I can help you children-- young adults-- keep safe, I will. You have my mail address. Stay in touch. I’ll send you Ronin’s, too, if you like. Just keep in mind one piece of advice.”

“What’s that?” asked Phantom Girl.

“Be careful how you use my name.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:
A NEW BEGINNING?

“As you know, yesterday’s tryouts were dismal again. No one showed up at all. I’ve put out feelers out to Daxam, Hykraius, Starhaven-- even Janus and Zwen. But not a bite, so far,” said Cosmic Boy.

“We could try contacting the Allen or Thawne families on Earth…” said Phantom Girl.

“Or PhlonGov, or the Mallors or Nahtahnie on Talok, or the Royal Family of Orando, or the Orakills of Naltor… but, I mean, does anyone here have those kind of contacts?” said Shrinking Violet. “I don’t.”

“We could just try to convince someone to expose themselves to Norgine, or Elasticizing Fluid, or Zuunium, or Jathasterone, and see what happens,” said Matter-Eater Lad 2. This elicited some frowns from the others.

“J. Kidding!” he qualified.

“I agree we need a broader base of membership,” said Saturn Girl. “And a greater diversity of powers. But we also need to find a way to be where we are needed. There was that uncontrolled eruption on Io last week-- we probably could have helped, but by the time it hit the news feeds, the SP and disaster services were already cleaning up, and had everything blocked off. There was that museum theft on Neptune... but how do we getting in the loop? I means proving ourselves first, I think.”

“I believe Mrs. Nah was correct,” said Ten. “We require additional technology. We have made the Clubhouse comfortable, but not functional. It is more like a home than a command center. Our only private transportation is the Ranzz’s Runabout. Now, while I am clealy not capable of constructing a starship from scratch, with available materials and some modest investment, I believe I can construct personal flight belts.”

“Not flight rings?” asked Lightning Lass.

“Not unless you can find an inexpensive source of parastable unpentbium isotope,” said Ten. “And it is finicky tech. Brainiac Five is a brilliant engineer, but as he operates at the limits of understood science and technology, often encounters unintended consequences in his work. At one point, he was able to combine the flight ring and telepathic earplug into a single communication and transportation unit. However, this required a over-sized psionic processor. The rings evolved sentience, fell in love with their wearers, which led to a host of problems. They would not work for more than one person, and hesitated to send the wearer into perceived danger. They could also become sulky if ignored. They would also fail to deliver certain personal messages. In the end, the problems became unmanageable. They were ultimately good for nothing, except pets. I prefer tried-and-true, if somewhat antiquated technology.”

“How much time and money are we talking about?” asked Saturn Girl.

“I believe I can build a reliable flight belt, and integrate our personal communicators, for less than one hundred credits. I estimate a similar market solution would cost over two thousand. I would need to cannibalize one or two of the ship’s-- the Clubhouse’s-- dekalithium batteries, but I expect it would still leave us with sufficient power, unless someone is planning on building a small factory here. There would be an issue with battery replacement after a couple of Martian years, but who knows what our group will look like then?”

“A hundred credits apiece would be a substantial investment for most of us,” said Saturn Girl. “This brings up the question of having a Treasury, and dues, and all the rest. Are you certain you could build workable models?”

“Nothing is ever 100% certain,” said Ten, “But I have high confidence. I could begin by assembling prototype flight belts for you, Lightning Lass and Cosmic Boy. After a week’s setup time, I imagine I could produce one per day.”

“Well, I’ll make a motion to have Ten produce three prototype flight belts,” said Cosmic Boy.

“And I will second it,” said Lightning Lass.

The motion was unanimous in the affirmative.