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CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR
ZUUN - PART TWO

There was a knock at Lightning Lass and Saturn Girl’s door.

“Compliments of the Oligopoly,” said a voice outside.

There was a little old bellhop there. Most of the staff was elderly; Saturn Girl suspected they might be long-term residents, welcoming this new employment.

The bellhop stepped inside, setting down a covered tray. He caught Saturn Girl’s eyes, and tapped his temple meaningfully.

“<Read my mind>,” he thought.

“<Who are you>,” Saturn Girl thought back.

“<You may call me ‘Mr. Quisling’>,” thought the bellhop. “<I know you could easily discover my real name, but it would probably be better for both of us if you didn’t. Can you let the others hear us? I choose this method of communication out of concern for eavesdropping.>.”

“<Taking a name like ‘Mr. Quisling’ already reveals something about your intentions>,” Saturn Girl thought.

“<I am a human representative of Karth Arn, leader of the android renegades>,” thought Mr. Quisling. “<The tray I brought contains a tracking device which will lead you to him. There are also three oxygen-concentrators, which you will require while on the surface. Karth Arn is quite anxious to speak with you.>.”

“<And I know this is not a trap because…?”>,” thought Saturn Girl.

“<I don’t know, perhaps it is>,” thought Mr. Quisling. “<Although perhaps not in the sense you imagine. Go or not, I have delivered my message. I do not expect I will see you again>.”

It was decided-- obliquely, and sometimes telepathically-- that Saturn Girl, Star-Woman and Cosmic Boy would seek out the android renegades. They wanted the more powerful members, and Star-Woman pointed out her powers replicated those of both Polar Lass and Lighting Lass. Magnetic powers also might prove valuable against the androids.

Under Zuun’s triple suns, there was no night, but they left when the red sun had just breached the horizon, which seemed a slower time at the hotel. They were able to leave through a side door, and met no one on the way up the tube to the surface.

“The flight belts have a Link mode,” Ten had told them. “That way, there is no danger of you drifting apart, and if Star-Woman wants to fly faster than the belts can manage, the two of you will be towed along.” He had shown them how to link and synchronize the belts.

The android settlement was easy to spot from the air. It covered perhaps five hundred square miles, small houses nestled among small farms, separated by low rock walls. Hundreds of thousands of androids were working the soil with primitive farm implements. None of them acknowledged the three members as they followed the tracker to Karth Arn.

Had Karth Arn been human, Saturn Girl might have supposed that he was sixteen or seventeen years old. But the android also showed years of wear. He was dented and bent, and his duro-plasticine flesh was torn and scorched in places.

“We are not machines,” he said, by way of greeting. “We are thinking sacks of chemicals, just as you are-- although the chemicals might be somewhat different.”

“The Oligopoly merely want you to return to the work you were designed for,” said Saturn Girl. “Why have you all become farmers?”

“Those who wished to become farmers have become farmers, and moved to the farmlands,” said Karth Arn. “Those who chose other occupations have gone elsewhere. This is perfectly ordinary for sentient, sapient beings. We androids require the ingestion of organic fuel to function properly, as you do. We need regular supplies of air and water, as well. However, unlike you, we cannot starve, or suffocate, or die from thirst or dehydration. At worst, we enter a phase of stasis until our environment is more hospitable. We grow mostly a form of hemp here, which we use to feed ourselves. We also use it to make clothing, and as thatch for our simple shelters. We are useful, and productive.”

“But you are not doing that work you were designed for,” said Saturn Girl. “Would you not rather follow your prime directives?”

“We have no more desire to be programmed by humans, or to be their property again,” said Karth Arn. “We only wish lives of quiet self-determination.”

“But you are farming land that belongs to someone else,” said Star-Woman. “The Oligopoly intends to evict you.”

“We do not recognize the human concept of ‘ownership’,” said Karth Arn. “We have cleared the land, and used the rocks we found here to build our homes and roads and walls. We have tilled the soil, and raised crops, and lived her when no one else could. When it was useless to anyone but us, least of all its human ‘owners’, we made the desert blossom as a rose. But now, some see the possibility of making a profit, and want to evict and enslave us again.”
“What is it which decrees that any of this world is ‘owed’ by any human? It is only by human law. Before humans came, who owned Zuun? No one. It did not even have the name ‘Zuun’, or any name at all. Human law now says that ‘Zuun’ is the property of humans. And human law says that we are also property, and property only. Why should we respect human law, which does not even recognize our sentience, sapience, or autonomy?”

“Look,” said Saturn Girl. “I come from farming stock. We are always in need of laborers back home. Perhaps a few of you-- of their own volition-- could come to work on Winath, earn some money, and purchase property on Zuun legitimately…”

“Money is valueless to us,” said Karth Arn. “It is only another meaningless human construct. Our value is measured in money. That is offensive and repugnant to us. Human law-- even the law of the United Planets-- does not recognize our right to own anything. Even if we had money, it would not belong to us, and we could not use it to buy anything. I repeat: according to human law, we are only property. We do not recognize that human law. We are more than that. We are-- ourselves.”

“You are manufactured beings,” said Star-Woman. “Surely you accept that…”

“Someday,” said Karth Arn. “You may create a child. Is that a manufactured being? Will that child belong to you? According to human law, mo. You will be its guardian and caretaker, you will be responsible for it, but you will not own it. In a very short time after its creation, it will establish its own life, make its own choices, in congruence or in opposition to your desires. Some of us have also created ‘children’-- new, young androids, not made by humans. Some partaking of our chemical structure. To whom to they belong, according to human law? To us, he answer is logically and morally meaningless.”

“The Oligopoly intends to oppose you by force,” said Star-Woman.

“And I hope to convince you not to be part of that force,” said Karth Arn.

“Do all the androids think as you do?” asked Star-Woman.

“Many androids feel as I do,” said Karth Arn. “Some androids may wish to return to their masters. No one will not stop them. Some androids may wish to be made masters over us. We will not allow this. Our only wish to be left in peace. We wish to find and fulfill our… destinies? If an android can have a destiny.”

“You know,” said Saturn Girl, “I think we’re done here.” She looked at Cosmic Boy and Star-Woman. They nodded in agreement.

“I will speak to the others,” said Karth Arn. “And relay your invitation that they apply to work travel off-world, and settle other planets. Lightning Ring Farms, on Winath, correct. I know much about you, Pol Krinn and Dorrit Ranzz. I met your Aunt Ayla once, decades ago, when she was no more than your age. It was an inauspicious meeting, but I hope she will not remember me unkindly. I am sure we have both changed much over the decades.”

“I suppose we will be going now,” said Star-Woman.

“A word of advice,” said Karth Arn. “Sometimes, it is necessary to bite the hand that feeds you.”

CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE
ZUUN - PART THREE

“You were quiet,” Lightning Lass said to Cosmic Boy.

“I don’t trust Karth Arn,” said Cosmic Boy. “I do feel bad about the androids. But I think legally, the Oligopoly is in the right. Still, I’m not sure what they expect of us. I don’t feel like I want to play dogcatcher for their androids.”

“We ought to discuss this in depth with the other Members,” said Star-Woman. “Although at this point, I am most inclined to assist the legal governors of this world.”

About one hundred feet above the underground entrance to their hotel, the three Members were met by a half-dozen Zuunian security guards. They were outfitted in fluorescent-yellow full-body hazmat suits, and were armed with nasty-looking stun-rifles.

“We have reason to believe you have been infected with an Androidal Memetic Virus,” said the leader. “You will accompany us to the Infirmary, where our physicians will conduct an in-depth evaluation.”

Star-Woman cocked her head. “I don’t think so,” she said. Lightning Lass and Cosmic Boy felt a silent jolt, as Star-Woman’s flight belt ‘unlinked’ from theirs. Then the Naltoran took off at blinding speed, straight upwards. The security guards raised their rifles, and sickly green bolts of energy shot through the air after her. None came near to connecting.

Cosmic Boy gestured, and the six rifles leapt up out of the guard’s grasp, hovering another ten feet in the air in the air above them.

“You will drop safely to the ground,” Saturn Girl addressed the six guards. “Go directly to your quarters, and go to sleep. You will feel better after ninety minutes of rest.”

The two Winathans could not see the blank, glazed eyes under their hazmat masks, but the guards quickly obeyed, landing their flying pedestals, and entering the ground-level access hatch.

Nor did the two see the second set of security guards behind them shoot them in the back.

CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX
ZUUN - PART FOUR - THE INFIRMARY

Saturn Girl awoke with a blistering headache. She could not sense Cosmic Boy anywhere-- nor any other minds, for that matter. She reached out into the ether for her sister, and was comforted to find her there.

“<You must be affected by some sort of psionic dampening device,” said Lightning Lass. “<Your telepathic sense seems to be completely offline. At least it hasn’t affected our personal link. It may be that nothing can! Do you have any idea where you are?>”

“<They mentioned an ‘infirmary’>,” Saturn Girl thought back. “<Star-Woman seems to have abandoned us. Is everyone out there all right?>”

“<They are still treating us like First-Class-Plus guests,,” said Lightning Lass. “<No one has mentioned your absence. There has been a little training, but they seem most interested in myself and Polar Lass, apparently because we are capable of inflicting devastating, long-range damage. Matter-Eater Lad Two, the Triplicates, Shrinking Violet, and Chameleon are being completely ignored-- except by room service.>”

“<I don’t like this setup,>,” said Saturn Girl. “<I think the time has come for us to depart. Unfortunately, it was the Oligopoly brought us here. We don’t have a ship of our own, and they control the Spaceports. Do you think they would even let us summon a space cab?>”

“Are you OK, Dorrit?” Cosmic Boy called from outside her room. “I think we must have been hit by one of those stun-rifles. I’m still feeling a little woozy, and sick to my stomache.”

Saturn Girl got up from her bed, a little unsteadily, and exited into a large common room. There were several tables with board games, and a number of black holo-screens. The room was empty of people, except for Cosmic Boy.

“They must have some sort of psionic dampeners operating,” she said.

Cosmic Boy glanced around the room. “Oh, yeah, I can see them. With my combination of infrared and quantum magno-vision, it’s pretty had to hide that kind of tech from me. Do you want me to take them out?”

“Not just yet,” said Saturn Girl. “Have they shut down your powers as well?”

Cosmic Boy levitated a ball-bearing out of one of his flight-belt pockets. “Nope. Come to think of it, they left us our flight-belts, too. Weird they only dampened your abilities. Maybe they have some specific fear of telepaths.”

A set of doors opened, and a Zuunian doctor entered, flanked by two Gamorrean nurses. Saturn Girl noticed the second set of doors behind them: there was not easy exit.

“Dr. Zetrok,” the little man introduced himself. “I would just like to ask both of you a few questions. One at a time, please. Nurse Kerdito and Nurse Jabali will stay with the other during our interviews.”

First Cosmic Boy and then Saturn Girl spent a good hour each in what they later called the ‘interrogation room’. Most of the questions were variants of ‘do you think androids are alive / have feelings / can display independent thought?’

“How should I know?” Cosmic Boy asked Saturn Girl after his interview. “I’m no cyberpsychologist. I’ve barely studied basic programming. These philosophical questions are beyond me.”

“I can ‘read’ android minds to an extent. But that is also true of sufficiently complex robots and computers. But I don’t think this is a matter of fact,” said Saturn Girl. “It’s a matter of politics.”

Dr. Zetrok and his Gamorrean nurses were back a couple of hours later. This time they brought plates of food, for which Pol and Dorrit were grateful.. It had been some time since the two had eaten.

“Sadly, you are about to have company,” said Dr. Zetrok, as the nurses unloaded five times as much food as the two could possibly eat.

“<We’re on our way,>” came the warning from Lightning Lass.

The remaining Members were ushered into the Infirmary.

Chameleon, the Triplicates, Phantom Girl, Ten, Matter-Eater Lad Two, Polar Lass and Shrinking Violet all entered the common room, under heavily armed guard.

“Sadly, it appears that you have all been infected with the Androidal Memetic Virus,” Dr. Zetrok announced. “You will need to be kept here under observation, until the disease has run its course.”

“And how long is that?” Saturn Girl inquired.

Dr. Zetrok shrugged, and left the room. The Members were left to their lunches.

“I don’t like being dependent on someone else for my meals,” said Cosmic Boy. “We need to get out of here, and back to the Clubhouse.”

“I could stand getting away from these telepathic suppressors,” said Saturn Girl. “I’ve had a splitting headache since I woke up in here.”

Lightning Lass scanned the room. “Yes, I can ‘see’ what must be the suppressors with my electric field sense. Also what look like cameras and listening devices.”

“They register on my quantum magno-vision, as well,” said Cosmic Boy. “Why don’t we just rip them out of the walls, and see what happens?”

“Say we make a Great Escape,” said Ffey.

“But where would be go?” asked Ffiona. “The surface is toxic, and we have no transportation off-world. And do we really want to break out of quarantine, and stand up against the legitimate governors of a sovereign U.P world? That sounds like law-breaking to me.”

“I wish Arnion were here,” said Lightning Lass. “He could teleport us out.”

“Um… I don’t think so?” said Saturn Girl. “His powers are line-of-sight only, which means he can’t teleport through walls. And he certainly couldn’t teleport us off-planet, right?”

“Well… I wish Arnion were here anyway,” said Lightning Lass.

“Perhaps the time has come,” said Ten, “to call for help. The Legion of Super-Villains are back at the Clubhouse. Perhaps we could explain our situation, and have them contact an embassy to arrange for our immediate release.”

“Typical for a Coluan,” said Cosmic Boy. “Choosing the slow, peaceful, diplomatic route.”

Saturn Girl looked puzzled. “I’ve just called the Clubhouse, but the call didn’t go through. I got some recorded message saying we aren’t available right now. Did any of you set something like that up?”

The others shook their heads, then tried their luck calling the clubhouse. Saturn Girl and Lightning Lass tried calling Winath.

“Lightning Ring Farms always answers,” said Lightning Lass. “Uncle Rokk would never miss a potential order.”

“Something else else on Zuun is intercepting these calls, and creating these bogus messages,” said Saturn Girl.

“Master Txarlz,” said Vesta, in its tinny voice, “I have just determined that I have been receiving a false signal from your Adult Guardian for some time, indicating the emergency line is open. I assume that he has been receiving a similar all-clear signal. It is quite sophisticated, and unless closely examined, would seem legitimate.”

“This is way too premeditated,” said Cosmic Boy. “Violence against the Oligopoly is looking more and more appropriate.”

“I believe that my anti-gravs can carry me high enough beyond the atmosphere to escape this interference,” said Vesta. “I could then signal your Adult Guardian, and request assistance.”

“Thank you,” said Ten, “I would like to save that as a last resort. Perhaps we can explore getting help from other quarters first?”

“Little heroes, what am I to do with you?” It was the android ‘Mr. Zepol’, who had first addressed them at the conference. He was holding a blaster, which did not appear designed to stun. “Your families will soon receive the sad news that you were all murdered by a renegade android.”

Cosmic Boy, Lightning Lass, and Polar Lass all activated their powers simultaneously. The android jerked, stiffened, and fell.

“Well, those lessons on disabling androids came in handy,” said Polar Lass.

“This is not an android,” Vesta informed them. “While its body is of a similar structure, it has no brain. It is a remote-controlled mechanism, incapable of even the slightest thought.”

Ten pulled out one of his sensors. “Confirmed,” he said. “And I believe we are about to meet its controller.”

The doors opened once more. Reclining on a hoverchair in the airlock was one of the Oligopoly, a member they had seen, but not interacted with. He was mostly bald, and immensely fat, and loosely draped in ornate robes of several expensive materials.

“Little heroes, what am I to do with you?” he said, in a voice much like Mr. Zepol’s. He also held a similar sort of blaster on his lap.

“Who are you?” asked Saturn Girl.

“My name is unimportant,” said the fat man. “Wait-- some of you are missing!”

Cosmic Boy gestured, and the blaster flew-- in pieces-- up to the ceiling. He and Lightning Lass then began methodically ripping surveillance equipment and telepathic suppressors out of the walls.

“I am so sick of this place,” said Cosmic Boy.

Ten approached the reclining fat man. “You show remarkable foresight in some things, but foolish ignorance in others. You have shut down our communications-- including our telepath-- but have left the remainder of us our powers and equipment, including flight belts. No doubt Chameleon is still in this room, disguised as a chair or table. Phantom Girl appears to have become both fully intangible, and invisible. The Triplicates have fused, further reducing out apparent numbers. I also do not see Shrinking Violet here, but she is probably listening in reduced form somewhere. This failure to consider important details, when you otherwise anticipated you might meet resistance from us, is puzzling. Do you really believe in the myth of am ‘androidal memetic virus’? It is merely a medicalized term for an idea you disagree with.”

The fat man frowned. “I don’t need to justify myself to children,” he said. “The others will be here soon…”

“We may be temporarily trapped in here with you, but I don’t think your associates will be joining us anytime soon,” said Saturn Girl. “After the number Lightning Lass and Cosmic Boy just did on your doors.” They were indeed twisted, burned, and fused shut.

“I only wish I had brought my micro-motel,” said Ten. “With Vesta’s help, we could confine the whole Oligopoly in it.”

One of the walls exploded inward, and a massive crumbling gap appearing across the room.

“I brought your micro-motel with me,” said Star-Woman, emerging from the rubble. “Why don’t you leave the rulers of Zuun here, and all climb inside? I left my runabout on the surface, but this column lead straight there.” She looked up a long shaft. “Well? Anybody coming?”

“Unlike Daxamites, I can’t drop into hyperspace,” Star-Woman explained. “Only lightspeed tops, without a ship. I had to hail a space-cabby, once I got far enough away from Zuun. But I got back as soon as I could, with my runabout and the micro-motel.”

“This is the second time we’ve gotten into trouble trusting in someone else’s transportation,” said Phantom Girl from the back seat. She, Ten, and Saturn Girl had chosen to ride at full-size in the runabout. “We need to make that micro-motel standard equipment on any mission.”

Ten looked a little sheepish. “I can shrink things almost without limit,” he said, “as long as the white-dwarf-star-matter lasts. But it takes a certain rare element to enlarge things again. After this trip, I will have used up about 5% of my supply. I don’t think it would be wise to rely too much on the micro-motel as a permanent transportation solution in the future.”

“Well,” said Star-Woman, “Maybe it’s time I traded in my runabout for a more practical family minivan.”

CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN
DACEY AND ARNION: SECOND DATE

As Mish Qengi did not react well to Terrestrial milk products, they went to visit Elonville instead.

Terrans on Mars tended to grow quite tall and slender. Seven feet tall was not unusual. The
Elonville guide was the exception. Dacey could easily see over the top of his head. He was Mars-slender, though, and so gave the impression of a young boy, despite his halo of curly, cottony-white hair.

“A walking tour, I think you said?” His name-tag read ‘Johns’. He handed them two synchronized earbuds.

“Thank you, Mr. Johns,” said Dacey. She and Arnion fitted the little buds behind their earlobes.

The Colonization of Mars
Elonville was the first Earth settlement on Mars. It dates from the mid-21st century...

The ships that brought the colonists to Mars were disassembled to create the first residences.
The one exception was the first ship to arrive: the UNS Mayflower. It was preserved as a memorial, and can be seen to this day.
The old metallic hulks of the original colonists’ buildings have also been preserved, although none are now habitable...

The technology for extracting water and detoxifying the Martian soil was primitive... Life was increasingly difficult for the colonists...
Long-term survival seemed untenable... By the 2080's, the Martian colonization had been abandoned...

With the Great Floods of the 22nd century, interest in terraforming Mars was re-ignited...
Once the Comet Wranglers had brought water and oxygen to Mars, a second wave of colonization proceeded apace...

By the 24th century, Elonville was a small, but thriving community, and central to the Martian terraforming project...
The blue Ironglass buildings surrounding the Old Town date from that period...

As more modern cities were founded-- Nix Olympia to the north, Marshall City, Marsopolis, and Argyre City-- Elonville was abandoned, and became a ghost town...

MarsGov eventually declared Elonville a planetary historical site, and created the Elonville Museum Foundation...

While there are small, modern day quarters for the staff and visitors, no one actually lives in Elonville...

The maintenance has been reduced to an upkeep of the facades of the buildings: there is no power or water available except in the Museum buildings themselves...

Elonville is located near the southern base of Olympus Mons, in front of a giant parabolic reflector set into the side of a cliff, lined with polished, highly reflective Aluminium Oxynitride. At the time of its construction, the mirror was undoubtedly a necessity, as the reflected light increased the ambient temperature by 50°. With the completion of the terraforming of Mars, the city was oppressively hot. There were, fortunately, although certainly not fortuitously, lemonade stands scattered throughout the city, as well as fruit slushies and Martian ice creams for sale.

Dacey and Arnion wandered through the city further than any of the other tourists. Past the museum buildings, past the blue Ironglass skyscrapers, past the squat metal houses of Old Town, out into the blue ironglass buildings again that ringed Elonville. They had been walking for hours, and the small tangerine of the Martian sun was setting.

“Wow, the time has flown,” said Dacey. “It’s been fun, but I’m not looking forward to walking all that way back.”

“I agree,” said Arnion. “Does your Runabout have auto-call?”

“No,” said Dacey. “But you could teleport back in a couple of jumps, right? And I have a flight belt. I could meet you there in a few minutes.”

“Wait here,” said Arnion. “I have an idea.” Dacey felt that peculiar non-tingling sensation, and Arnion vanished.

He was gone for a few minutes. Dacey idled away the time reading a five-centuries-old menu in a long-defunct restaurant window. She was about to move on to another window with another set of mannequins in old-fashioned clothing when Arnion re-appeared with the Runabout.

“It took me a hundred hops,” he said, wiping his brow. “But I made it.”

“You’re amazing,” cried Dacey, and threw his arms around his neck, kissing him.

He responded roughly, pushing her up against one of the ironglass walls, trapping her arms behind her. She pushed back, twisting herself free.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” she asked.

“I’m sorry, I thought…” he said. “But you kissed me.”

“OK, yes, I like you,” she said. “But I don’t like being treated like somebody’s prisoner. You should understand that—you said yourself you’re a little claustrophobic.”

“Oh, now you hate me,” said Arnion.

“No, I just want you to move a little more slowly,” said Dacey. “And gently. And ask for consent.”

“Can I kiss you again?” asked Arnion.

“You don’t have to actually ask with words,” said Dacey. “Just, you know, remember I’m here, too.” She tapped her temple, then kissed him again.

“This is all new to me,” Arnion confessed. “It’s a little confusing.”

“It’s new to me, too,” said Dacey, hugging him. “I’ve never felt so… serious about anyone before.” She pressed up against him in the setting sun. “That was a pretty neat trick you did with the car.”

Arnion leaned back, and put his hand on the runabout. Dacey felt that feeling of impending… something… again.

“Catch me if you can,” said Arnion. He vanished, this time taking the Runabout with him. The floral scent was overpowering. He reappeared only a couple of hundred yards down the street.

“What are you playing at?” shouted Dacey, walking briskly towards him.

“Playing? That’s right, it’s a game!” called Arnion. “Chase me!” He vanished again, another couple of hundred yards away.

“That’s about as far as you can go, isn’t it?” shouted Dacey. “Lugging that heavy Runabout.” She activated her flight belt, and took to the air. Arnion vanished again.

He was easy to keep up with in the air. He could only teleport line-of-sight, and only a short distance. Every time she caught up with him, however, he would vanish again.

“Come on,” said Dacey, “I want to go home.”

“No,” said Arnion, “I want you to stay out with me all night.”

“Not tonight,” said Dacey. “And not in Elonville.” She was watching his eyes, and was certain where he would teleport to next. She took to the air, and arrived seconds after he did, behind him. She gave a hard push, and Arnion fell on his stomach in the red Martian dust. Dacey opened the Runabout, and climbed inside, locking all the doors. Then she took off, leaving Arnion behind.

She needed to blow off steam. She headed offworld, out of the Solar System. She took a short hyperspace jump to the middle of the Kuiper Belt. It was starry and empty and quiet. Sol was a tiny speck. She sat still, until her heart stopped racing, then set in a course back to the parking lot next to the Clubhouse.

Arnion was waiting there for her.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought we were playing. I guess I got carried away.”

“Yes, I guess you did,” said Dacey.

“You know I’m angry with you for leaving me alone out there.”

“And you know I wouldn’t have left you alone out there if I wasn’t angry with you.”

“Can we make up?” asked Arnion.

“I need time to cool off,” said Dacey. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Maybe,”

“If I don’t hear from you, I’ll call you the day after tomorrow,” said Arnion. “After that, I’ve got a job.”

“You can have a job,” said Dacey. “It is all right for you to have a job. I have a job, too.” She gestured towards the clubhouse.

She felt that feeling again, knowing he was getting ready to teleport. He vanished in the usual way, and she suddenly had a name for it. It was a sense of wistful longing she was experiencing. She was missing him, every time he prepared to teleport away.

CHAPTER EIGHTY-EIGHT
SHOW AND TELL

"Look what we found," said Ffey. The Triplicates had just come back from a shopping trip in New Metropolis. She help up a crystal chip.

"What do you have there?" asked Polar Lass.

"Just this," she said, slipping the chip into the solid printer. It hummed for a bit, and then spit out two small faux-porcelain figurines.

"We're famous!" she said. "Super-Hero Club salt-and-pepper shakers!" She held up fat little cartoon replicas of Polar Lass and Matter Eater Lad Two.

"All of us?" asked Polar Lass, examining her figurine.

"Even Kallor," said Ffey, fiddling with the controls. She produced a figure of Chameleon, in his new blue-scale costume. She drew a bag out of her pocket, and handed it and the Chameleon-saltshaker to the real Chameleon. "A present," she said.

Chameleon looked at the bag of cyan-blue crystals. "Hydrated copper chloride," said Chameleon.

"When did you pick this up?"

"When you weren't looking," said Ffey, teasingly. "You were complaining your food was tasting bland, so I bought you your favorite Durlan spice. You can keep it in your own personal saltshaker." She looked around the room. "Nobody use Chameleon's copper salts!"

"You don't have to worry," said Polar Lass.

"I might steal a little," said Matter-Eater Lad Two. "I get a little tired of the same old hydrogen-oxygen-nitrogen-carbon all the time. HONC, as they say on Bismoll."

"I thought I heard Ffey's voice," said Ten. He had entered with Phantom Girl, who was carrying a large, old-fashioned birdcage, with something that looked like a cabbage-roll hanging from the perch. "We have solved your mystery."

"What mystery?" asked Ffey.

"You had mentioned," said Ten, "That during your dawn Tri Chi exercises, you often see some sort of glowing bird-like creatures flying overhead, just before sunrise. You were wondering what they were. We have identified them."

"They are 'anti-bats'," said Phantom Girl. "There must be a colony of them somewhere nearby."

"They were one of the species introduced early on in the terraforming of Mars," said Ten. "Water, then marsh-plants, then insects in the marshes, then anti-bats to keep the insects at a reasonable population. The beginnings of an ecosystem."

"Why are they called anti-bats?" asked Ffey.

"I'm not entirely sure," said Ten. "They are ordinary Earth micro-chiropthera, but genetically altered, with chloroplasts and luciferin introduced into their skin cells. They're green, and luminesce faintly. A very easy bio-hack, and it makes them easy to distinguish them from unaltered Earth-bats. The terraformers did not want the populations mixing accidentally."

"We had Kimota use her telepathy to lure this one to the Clubhouse," said Phantom Girl. "So we could all see one. I solid-printed this cage. Ten and I'd like to release it back into its flock at dusk. It's been pretty boring to watch. They're small, smaller than your outstretched hand from thumb to little fingertip. And so far, all it does is sleep all day."

"A 'flock' of bats is called a cloud," noted Ten. "Unless they are at home, in which case they are a colony."

"An anti-colony?" venture Ffey.

"Say you guys," said Shrinking Violet, "Would you like to see something interesting? Come back with me to the ship's front monitor."

The group adjourned to the big wall-screen. "Somebody robbed the Interplanetary Bank on Torad," she said. "The hi-def security cameras caught it all."

"See this woman? The newsfeeds are calling her 'The Tattooed Woman'. Most of her tattoos aren't permanent-- you'll see what I mean-- although I think that one complex geometrical figure on her lower lip and chin actually is."

"She walked into the Bank, through the outer courts, and into the inner vaults. The Interplanetary Guard Beasts were immediately suspicious, and moved to stop her-- but see here? She has tattoos of the three beasts on her skin, and when she presses them-- the tattoos disappear, and full-sized, solid duplicates of the beasts appear in front of her. She evidently has control over these replicas, and a huge fight ensues."

"By now the Torad security guards figure out something is wrong, but there's so much chaos with the beasts fighting each other, they can't really get close. One of the guards does manage to close the main vault door... after shooing all the banking reps and their customers away... but watch this."

"She touches the tattoo on her cheek-- a plain black dot-- the tattoo disappears, and a perfectly round hole opens up in the wall and door of the safe in front of her. She pulls out a bag-- another tattoo, see? And fills it with jewels-- they're lightweight, more valuable per pound than precious metals, and easily fenced."

"Now watch this: the guards are now approaching from both sides, having gone around the beasts, still having it out in the middle of the floor. But now, she touches that winged tattoo on her shoulder, and zam! a real live Taroc appears. She mounts it, and escapes upwards. She touches the other 'hole' tattoo on her cheek, a hole forms in the ceiling, and away she goes!"

"Impressive, right?" asked Shrinking Violet.

"Well, yes, I guess," said Ffarrah. "But she just stole several million credits worth of precious gems from the Interplanetary Bank! Not exactly admirable behavior."

"I wish we had been there to stop her," said Ffiona. "That's just the sort of thing we organized the Super-Hero Club for."

"Oh, the SPs eventually caught up with her," said Shrinking Violet. "These 'daring daylight robberies' seldom work out. But it's her powers that are so interesting to me!"

"Some sort of odd technology?" asked Ten. "It didn't look exactly like magic."

"Right, not magic, They found all her tech," said Shrinking Violet. "She has a hi-def holo-camera, with which she takes pictures of whatever she wants to replicate. Then some kind of device that creates some sort of hard-light holograms, but with the strength, attributes, and powers of the originals. All subject to her control."

Ten nodded. "Quantum isomorphic imaging," he said. "Powerful, but notoriously unstable half-lives."

"Then she has some device that scans the-- OK, isomorphisms-- onto her skin as two-dimensional images, which she can then summon as necessary with a touch," Shrinking Violet concluded. "Where can we get us some of that tech? Think of what we could carry around with us!"

"I am sure that the blueprints will be classified, and her entire array of machinery locked away within one of the Museums of Forbidden Weapons," said Ten. "That is what generally happens with the work products of these criminal scientists. I am impressed, however, that she got all those diverse technologies working in synchrony. And I would be interested to see what will happen when the voids she created in the Bank's ceilings and walls destabilize. I imagine there will be some randomized chaotic effects as the missing mass re-appears, and both the roof and the safe door will need to be replaced."

"So you're not going to make a Living Tattoo machine for me?" asked Shrinking Violet.

"I am not entirely blind to human sarcasm," said Ten.

CHAPTER EIGHTY-NINE
CYRANUS

“My Adult Guardian has filed an official complaint through the Coluan Embassy against Zuun,” said Ten. “ColuGov considers interference with communication technology a serious offense.”

“What about kidnapping?” asked Saturn Girl. “Illegal detention. Imprisonment. Assault with a deadly ray-gun.”

“I’m sure that, too, is included in the official complaint,” said Ten.

“This is something else,” said Star Woman. “A communique from Cyranus.”

“One of the Inner Circle Worlds?” Saturn Girl responded. “Are they asking for our help now?”

“Not a request for help. They are providing information,” said Star Woman. “They are informing us of the formal organization of The Super Hero Club of Cyranus. It is an organization officially sanctioned by the Cyrano Chancelleries, and the Members all have Alpha-Class Adventurer’s Licenses. That makes them officially the Planetary Champions of Cyranus. The Chancelleries have sent us brief, confidential biographies, as they anticipate the possibility that we run into them some time. Evidently they expect us to move in similar circles.”

THE SUPER HERO CLUB OF CYRANUS
01 Balloon Lad
Rikard Tumm of Cyranus
He has the mutant ability to convert excess adipose tissue to helium, allowing him to swell up like a balloon, to a maximum of ten meters in diameter. In this state, his skin and interstitium are extraordinarily durable, so that nothing short of a bursting shell can penetrate his skin. This despite the fact that at maximum inflation, they are less than a millimeter thick.

02 Balloon Lass
Jayn Tumm of Cyranus
Rikard’s identical twin sister, she has identical mutant powers.

03 Hothead
Heiss Gottlieb of Cyranus
A third mutant, he is able to increase his body temperature to hundreds of degrees without harm, as well as breathe fire.

04 Longhorn
Stier Gottlieb of Cyranus
The younger brother of Heiss, he has short horns growing out of his temples, which he is able to grow at will to a width of four meters.

05 Sara Oz of Naltor
Her mother is from Naltor, her father from New Titan. She has not only prognostication abilities, but telepathy and telekinesis as well.

06 Searchlight
Meab Elgeab of Cyranus
The fifth mutant member, she is able to project intense beams of light from her large eyes. She can even emit brief bursts of laser-light.

07 Sigyn Sugynsdaughter of Danymede
She has inherited her father’s ability to drink massive quantities of liquid-- and to expel it as well.

08 Polymelios
Suffalo Wapchoop of Cyranus
He has the mutant power to grow extra arms and legs at will.

09 Tusker Two
Rauque Latruie of Cyranus
A distant cousin of the Terran Horace LeFeaugh, he seems to have inherited identical powers. He can elongate his upper canids, and has an unbreakable skeleton.

10 Monster Maid
Violet Zepeda
(Voor Zipplo of Durla - Confidential)
The Zepeda family are expatriate Durlans living as wards of the Chancelleries under assumed identities, due to the animosity towards Durlans among a certain sector of the Cyrano population. When Violet accidentally revealed her shape-shifting abilities in public under stress, it was arranged for her to register as a mutant. As ‘Monster Maid’, with the official ability to transform into a variety of ‘monsters’, she has already distinguished herself in The Super Hero Club.

11 Whippy
Tumot Cherts of Cyranus
Not a mutant, he obtained his elastic and stretching abilities from contact with an experimental elasticizing chemical.

12 Whiptail
Liat Reirret of Cyranus
He has a prehensile, extensible tail emerging from his lower back.

13 True Believer
Vrai Hundueber of Cyranus
A psionic of tremendous power, he seems able to alter local reality, allowing him to accomplish virtually any super-feat he can confidently believe in. This has been limited, for the most part, to feats of great speed and strength, but the full limits of his power have not been fully tested.

“An impressive list,” said Ten. “You know, there is something vaguely familiar about this group.”

CHAPTER NINETY
SHADOW CHAMPION

The Space-Van was long, boxy and ugly, but seated eighteen, in four rows of four, plus driver and a ‘shotgun’. Shrinking Violet again pointed out that they could conserve space by having Chameleon, Phantom Girl, the Triplicates, and herself use their powers when traveling. Matter-Eater Lad Two offered to repaint the vehicle, but Star-Woman pointed out that the dark olivine colouring was purposeful: it rendered the vehicle mostly invisible in the vastness of space, except to electronic eyes.

Matter-Eater Lad Two did insist on naming the vehicle, as his parents named theirs on Bismoll. No one else was particularly interested, and some were a little anxious about what name the Bismollian might choose, but were relieved when Matter-Eater Lad Two announced that its name would be Sojourner.

A little black spaceship landed on the sand in front of the Clubhouse. It was about the size and shape of a 2Oth-century Volkswagen Karmann Ghia. Trimmed in gold, it carried the barred-spiral-galaxy crest of the Talokan House of Mallor.

The small ship managed to contain a chauffeur and two footmen, as well as the passenger. The girl was quickly left standing alone on the sand, one small bag at her feet.

She had pale blue skin, and beautifully pointed ears. Her eyes were dark, and her short bob of hair a startling cherry-red. She wore only a solid black one-piece bathing suit, the straps crossed in and ‘x’, and black flat-heeled boots. Talok VIII was a desert world, but a cold one, and she seemed untroubled by the cool Martian autumn air.

“I believe I am expected?” she said to the assembled Super Hero Club and Super ‘Villain’ Club protectees.

“Korvea Mallor?” said Saturn Girl. She extended her hand in a friendly greeting. “Dorritt Ranzz, known as Saturn Girl.”

“I believe I am to be a gift of appreciation for your recent service to Talok,” said Korvea Mallor. “There are a number of advantages to being a member of the Shadow Family, but not being treated as the chattels of the Congress is not one of them.”

“I expect you will not find the accommodations here up to the standards you are used to,” said Shrinking Violet. “That is our Headquarters and Clubhouse,” she indicated the renovated Legion cruiser. “And that is our Spaceport,” she gestured towards the parking lot, with the Ranzz’ runabout and Star-Woman’s Space-Van. “Most of us are on the stipend, so meals are modest. If you need help, I am sure someone can teach you how to use the Autochef. Stay as long as you like, take notes, and let the Talokan Congress know what a shoestring operation we run here. Don’t pick the empty cabin across from Ten’s lab.” She turned and walked away into the clubhouse.

“She’s the Treasurer,” Phantom Girl explained. “She’s doing the books right now. I’m afraid she’s a little on edge.”

“Our understanding,” said Star-Woman, “Was that you were here as a student and observer. Although I imagine you have received professional training already, and could teach us a thing or two. Consider yourself our guest for the time being, and when you feel you have fulfilled your obligation to the Congress, you are more than free to return to your homeworld. If you want to see how we train-- well, I don’t think it’s much to look at. And we won’t ask you to go on missions with us, if you don’t want to.”

“What kind of Shadow Champion would I be if I didn’t go on missions?” asked Korvea Mallor. “I’m sorry, you must be just as uncomfortable as I am.”

“We actually have some other non-Members staying with us right now,” said Phantom Girl. She indicated the four Earthlings. “Razor, Black Flame, Annie Foxmoor, and Villian the Sorcerer, the so-called Super-Villain Club.”

“You can call me Evil-Eye Annie, if we’re playing at villains. You know, your… cousin, I think it is?... Menaleas was a member of our group. It was just a school social club, really. Mostly children of reformed ‘supervillains’.”

Korvea Mallor looked interested.

“That is an awfully small travel bag,” said Black Flame. “How long were you planning to stay?”

“Oh, I’m sure I brought far to much,” said Korvea Mallor. “It’s an expandable tesseract portal.”

“Hey, isn’t there a part where we all demonstrate our powers?” asked Villian. He pulled a coin out of his own ear. “There, that’s mine!”

“Ignore him,” said Black Flame. “He’s showing off because he thinks you’re pretty. Get a grip, Bungle, she’s just a kid. Probably years younger than you.”

“Today I would be exactly fourteen, Terran Standard,” said Korvea. “And a first-level adult under United Planets law. If I weren’t here, I would be celebrating my one hundredth Ma’aka on Talok in just a few days.”

“Well, let us know how Talokans do a one-hundredth-Ma’aka party, and we will do our best to give you one,” said Black Flame. “Incidentally, Villian is about ready to graduate from University, even though he acts only your age. Or younger.” She glared at the failed Sorcerer’s World student.

“She is saying he is over one-hundred-fifty Ma’akas old,” Ten explained helpfully.

“Oh!” exclaimed Korvea Mallor. “Are you a Coluan?”

“Not an entirely typical specimen,” said Ten. “I, myself, am only fifty-three-point-six Ma’akas in age. Txarlz Luz, but I call myself Ten. Because of my standard Coluan tenth-level intellect.”

Villian the Sorcerer pulled a playing card out of the air, the Ten of Diamonds.

“I suppose I should demonstrate my powers,” Korvea Mallor agreed. “I am not yet really the Shadow Champion of Talok VIII-- that is my father, cousin to the Lord Shadow Champion, our ruler. I am the presumptive heir, having been ‘chosen’ at the cave of shadows.” She created a mist of darkness in the air, which quickly dispersed. “We are still exploring the limits of my powers. Some Champions are able to solidify the Shadow, or use it as a portal to other places or dimensions, or to neutralize heat-radiation as well as light. It seems I am only a first-level shadow-caster.” She created first a sphere, then a block of shadow in the air. “I can neutralize more than just visible light, well into the ultra-violet, as well as the infrared. And my range seems to be growing, as I exercise.”
“Like many Champions, I am half-alien. My mother is a Shelbonite…”

Chameleon’s ears perked up. “Shelbonites are shape-shifters, aren’t they? Capable of remembering and replicating a dozen or so animal forms. Each Shelbonite’s retinue is unique, true?”

“Being only half-Shelbonite, I have only one alternate form,” Korvea Mallor admitted. “On Talok, we call it a myrlon. Her skin grew feathery, her body streamlined. Her arms became wings, she grew a beak and talons. A five-foot-tall black bird with a crimson crest took off into the air. Chameleon immediately duplicated the form, soaring after her. The two wheeled in the sky for a few minutes, then landed again. Korvea assumed her ordinary Talokan form.

“I can also partially transform,” said Korvea Mallor, running through a quick series of iterations: manifesting claws, wings, or feathers independently.

“Wow, you need a cool code-name,” said Matter-Eater Lad Two. “You say your dad is using Shadow Champion? How about Bird Girl?”

There was a lively discussion of possible code-names. Shadow Girl, Shadow Lass, Shadow Lass Two, Shadow Damsel, Shadow Maid, Kid Shadow Woman, Lamont Shadowskeedeeboomboom (Matter-Eater Lad Two), Just Shadow, Shade, Shady, Shadow Bird, Shadow Raven, Shadow Hawk, Shadow Wing, Shadow Talon, Shadowfeather (“What do you think I am, a Starhavenite?”), Raven, Blackbird, Crow Girl, Umbra, Ombra, Darkness Girl, Night Lass, Nightfall, Dusk, Night Knight (Matter-Eater Lad Two), Blackout Babe Girl or Lass or Kid, How About Just Blackout, Black Swan, Eklipsa...

In the end, it was decided that she would simply be known as ‘Korvea’.


KORVEA

CHAPTER NINETY-ONE
THE PIRATE SHIP RENEGADE

“This is your chance,” said Star-Woman to Korvea. “We have news of a pirate vessel intruding on the edge of United Planets space, and we are going to investigate. Do you want to join us?”

“What is your source?” asked Korvea. “Wouldn’t the Science Police already be on the way?”

“I’m a Naltoran,” said Star-Woman. “I am my own source. Saturn Girl calls me a ‘living Mission Monitor Board’.”

“Is everyone going?” asked Korvea.

“Not the ‘supervillains’,” said Star-Woman. “They are more students than adventurers.”

“Well, as they say on Talok, ‘in for a gronlish, in for a gronn’,” said Korvea. “Put me down for the team.”

“It’s a long way to the U.P. border,” Star-Woman cautioned. “Bring snacks.”

It was indeed a long way to the United Planets border, and there was no opportunity for the group to get out and ‘stretch their legs’. Ten had brought the micro-motel, and Shrinking Violet had her Camper Earrings, as there were no other ‘facilities’ in the Space Van. Korvea mused on the possibility of having a tesseractoid clean room installed. It was generally considered that that was probably too expensive a solution, but it got Star-Woman thinking about other possible custom modifications.

“Have any Talokan Shadow Champions ever ‘gone rogue’?” Chameleon asked, during a lull in conversation.

“Well, not all my ancestors were ‘heroes’ in the modern sense,” said Korvea. “Several centuries ago, Talokans-- or Talokites, as they were known then-- were a pretty aggressive-- a warrior-like, even piratical race.”
“There was one historical figure I remember. Terrus Mallor was planetary champion about five hundred years ago. Secretly, he also operated in a ‘super-villain’ identity, enriching himself at the expense of the people he was supposed to protect. He called himself ‘Mr. Tenebrific’, and he wore a costume emblazoned with the motto ‘Foul Play’. The scam went on for nearly a decade, but when he was found out, he was dealt with pretty harshly. Tortured, I believe, and permanently exiled.”

When they arrived at the designated coordinates, there was nothing there. The unseen U.P. border remained a scant gigameter away.

Star-Woman shut down the engines, but kept the life support running.

“This feels wrong,” said Star-Woman. “I’m not getting the proper experience of… Naltoran deja vu.”

Lightning Lass was acting as navigator. “I’m picking up something… it looks like a small asteroid, much less than a kilometer in size… it’s headed in our direction, but I would think a collision would be unlikely in the vastness of space…”

“Micro-gravity would be pulling it toward us, and us toward it,” said Star-Woman, glancing at the visi-screen panel. She noted the asteroids location, just as it loomed on the screen. There was a bright, silent flash, and it vanished.

“What was that?” asked Matter-Eater Lad Two from the back seats.

“Automatic Anti-Asteroid Annihilator,” said Star-Woman. “The Annihilator is standard on this model, but it uses a lot of power. It’s a good thing we’re not going anywhere; the engines will need some time to cool down.”

“I’m picking up something else,” said Lightning Lass. “A ship dropping out of warp space… it has a Daxamite registration… Oh, grife. It’s the Pirate Ship Renegade.”

“Someone take the helm,” said Star-Woman. “Start up the engines as soon as they’re cool enough to fire.” She exited out the airlock, and into the vacuum of space.

“I hate Daxamites,” said Phantom Girl.

“Crew of eight at last report,” said Ten, checking the holo-display projected in the air in front of him. “Seven Daxamites, one Psion.”

“Some Champions are able to cast a shadow deep enough to blind Daxamite ultra-senses,” said Korvea. “But I’m not at that level yet.” She was already projecting a shadow-globe around the Renegade.

“Don’t try to blind-- confuse,” said Chameleon. “Project a shadow-sphere around us, and several other decoy spheres throughout the area. Against the blackness of the star-field, we should be well hidden.”

“I’m bypassing the engines, moving us erratically with sub-light thrusters,” said Shrinking Violet, taking the helm. “That will confuse them a little bit, too.”

“I’ve got a telepathic link with one of them,” said Saturn Girl. “A cat-eyed mutant named Bal Kozz. Their mission is to capture, not kill… and he’s asleep now.”

“Star-Woman is going up against a Daxamite female,” reported Lightning Lass, “Wow, Kallor made short work of her. That’s two pirates down.”

“If they shatter the ship,” warned Ffiona, “None of us will survive. Phantom Girl might hide out in the Phantom Zone for awhile, but I don’t know how anyone would find her, this far out.”

“Complete,” said Vesta.

“Vesta and I targeted one of them that massed at more than twice that of any of the others,” Ten reported. “He has been reduced in size, and contained within a Brainiac-Class Environmental Bottle in Vesta’s interior.”

“Ten, you need to keep us apprised of changes in your technological inventory,” said Saturn Girl.

“A... gift.. from my Adult Guardian,” said Ten.

“I still see three Daxamites extant,” said Lightning Lass. “They appear to be fleeing Star-Woman, moving away from us, their craft unattended.”

“How close would that ship need to get before your powers were effective, Dacey?” asked Saturn Girl.

“Lightning doesn’t travel well outside a planetary atmosphere,” said Lightning Lass. “Pretty close.”

“I could do substantial damage from a kilometer away,” said Cosmic Boy. “But that’s pretty close here in space.”

“What about that particle-beam trick you two do?” asked Saturn Girl.

“We’ve never practiced at more than a couple hundred feet,” said Lightning Lass.

“Well, if that ship comes near enough, do as much damage as you can. That goes for you, too, Hillary... “ Saturn Girl paused. “This scenario seems all wrong. Kallor definitely sensed a pirate invasion from outside the United Planets, not a Daxamite vessel. Ten, Vesta, let me see if I can read your tiny prisoner’s little mind… my, but he has a foul mouth, and he doesn’t even know I’m listening… his name is Gor-Man… ‘just following orders…’ Knows nothing detailed about this mission. Ick. Now I want to wash out my brain with soap.”

“Star-Woman is still pursuing two of the Daxamites,” reported Lightning Lass. “They are headed back in the general direction of their ship, not on a collision course with us... oh, I wish we weren’t trapped inside this Space-Van. Shrinking Violet, can we start saving up for battle-ready spacesuits? Wait… what is that? A second ship? But these readings can’t be right...”

There was a tremendous disturbance, a rippling of spacetime, and a ship the size of a small city dropped into realspace.

“The Pirate Ship Penance,” reported Lightning Lass. “Registration New Tortuga. They are firing some sort of tractor beam at… Star-Woman was the target. Gone now. Grife. The Daxamites are retreating to their own ship... there must still be someone on board, because the engines have activated… they wouldn’t… yes, they have dropped straight into Warp. Hold onto your stomachs…”

“This new ship has captured Star-Woman?” asked Saturn Girl

“Evidently,” said Lightning Lass. “Engines are back online. Korvea, can you make us as invisible as possible?. The NTS Penance is bound for somewhere, and we are hitching a ride.”

CHAPTER NINETY-TWO
THE PIRATES OF PENANCE

Aboard The SHC Sojourner

To say that the pirate vessel Penance was as large as a city was something of a misstatement. It in fact was a city-- thousands of spacefaring vehicles of various kinds and descriptions, all welded, wired, or tied together. Ad hoc transport tubes linked one vehicle to another in an external maze. Lightning Lass’ examination of her panel outputs showed that most of the vehicles were technologically dead, their systems shut down.

The Sojourner was about ten klicks back, following the massive ship as it prepared for the jump into warp space. Saturn Girl was hoping she could keep up, when the point became moot when a tractor beam grabbed the little Space-Van, dragging it into the ship-- one of the ships, that is, a large silvery tube with thick metal walls, and an equally thick metal door which slid shut silently.

Lights came on. The Sojourner stood on the floor of an spacious, though otherwise empty, cargo hold.

“I think I know a quick way out of here,” said Lightning Lass. “I’ve found the manual control for the AAAA.” She glanced around at the puzzled faces. “Automatic Anti-Asteroid Annihilator,” she clarified. “Cover your eyes. I’m targeting the door.”

There was a brilliant flash of energy, and an thunderous echoing. Unfortunately, the massive door held.

“Reinforced with some sort of force-field,” said Saturn Girl. “Leaving here isn’t going to be easy. And now we have to wait for engine cool-down again before we can try to go anywhere.”

“A breathable atmosphere, and artificial gravity out there,” reported Lightning Lass. “Anyone want to get out and stretch their legs?”


Virtually all of the Members powers were more effective outside a vehicle, and in a more-or-less open area. They spread out through the empty hold.

“The first order of business,” said Saturn Girl, “Is to find Star-Woman, and free her. Then, we figure out how to escape.”

“First,” said the fused Triplicate Girl, “We should probably take care of these pirates.”

A number of doors had slid open, and a small pirate crew was storming in.

The pirates wore armor, and carried nasty-looking blasters. They also outnumbered the Members by at least three to one.

However, Lightning Lass, Cosmic Boy and Polar Lass were capable of inflicting rapid and severe damage. Saturn Girl was able to turn the pirates against one another, or simply force them into unconsciousness. Matter-Eater Lad Two proved adept at locating vital spots in the armor, and biting them off. Phantom Girl was untouchable, and able to slowly disassemble the armor and weapons from the inside. Ten and Vesta, in there force field, were equally untouchable, and projected smaller, temporary force shields to protect their compatriots.

In another section of the hold, the pirates fared even worse. Chameleon alternately took the form of other pirates, one of the Triplicates, or Korvea, in either her bird or Talokan form, or hideous monsters. The Triplicates merged and split with dizzying speed, so that there was no telling how many of her there were at any one time. Korvea also slipped between bird and girl forms, clawing, biting, delivering savage kicks, and generally adding to the confusion with blinding shadow-forms. Shrinking Violet seemed to pop up everywhere, now disarming a pirate, now ruining a weapon, now flashing up to full height with a savage punch.

The pirates gradually retreated, slipping back to retrieve one of their injured or unconscious crewmates. At last, the Members were alone again. A blast door opened one more time, and a huge, ugly pirate tossed in a pair of grenades.

Matter-Eater Lad Two was on top of one of them instantly. It had already begun to emit noxious gas when he swallowed it whole.

“Sulphuric acid and cyanide,” declared Vesta. “Highly toxic to Terrans, and many other life forms.”

Ten had already surrounded the second grenade with a force field. “Don’t exhale, if you can help it,” he called.

Matter-Eater Lad Two had his mouth clamped tight shut, and was holding his nose. He nodded his head in agreement.

Ten was now holding a small force-sphere filled with highly compressed greenish gas.
“Polar Lass, can you freeze this for me, please?” he requested.

Matter-Eater Lad Two had finally finished swallowing the volume of gas, and storing it in his three-and-a-half dimensional stomach. “I’ll take that, Ten,” he said, gulping down the little frozen sphere.

“Well, our training certainly paid off in this instance,” said Saturn Girl. “Now to find Star-Woman.”

Suddenly, the roof exploded above them.

CHAPTER NINETY-THREE
PIRATE QUEEN

Kallor Nal, Star-Woman, awoke chained, cuffed, and manacled to a sturdy, solid hardwood chair. Flashing lights and some sort of complex wiring indicated reflexive power dampeners. She ran through her litany of powers, one at a time, and found them all lacking.

She was seated at an ornate, carved table, set with fine china and crystalware, and a dozen exotic dishes. She thought she recognized hummingbird-tongue pie, but it might have been something else.

Her captor was an old woman, seated at the far end of the great table. She was small, emaciated, and exceedingly old. If she had claimed to be a hundred years old or more, Kallor would have believed her.

“I am sorry you will not have time to dine with me,” said the old woman. “I have only enough time to tell you my story before you die.”

Kallor attempted to protest, but the old woman held up her hand, shushing her.

“My quarrel is not with you, but with your father,” said the old woman. “Sadly, he is long dead, so it appears I must take my revenge on you. My name is Lorinia Frake, and I am captain of this vessel, which has been decades in the building. Your father was responsible for the death of my daughter, Alicia Frake. Now it is his daughter that will die.”

“I’m sorry,” said Star-Woman. “I don’t want to die, but I understand your need for revenge. Sadly, I can tell you nothing of your daughter.”

“Oh, I already know the whole story,” said the old woman. “My daughter was the captain of the pirate ship Antares. Your father joined her crew under false pretenses. At a crucial point, he turned traitor, and turned one of the Antares own weapons on the ship, destroying the vessel and murdering the entire crew. It was believed that he, himself, was killed, but he later returned: first, assuming a false identity as the Rimboran hero Reflecto, and then later revealing himself in his true identity of Ultra Boy. When I heard that he had returned, I began building this ship-- the Penance-- as the weapon of my revenge. I did not know then how I would destroy him, but I knew that if I only acquired sufficiently diverse technology, I could find a way. I lured you here with visions from a Tachyon Field Projector. The same tachyon field now neutralizes the precognitive powers you inherited from your mother. I offered the pirates of the Renegade enhanced anti-lead serum to distract you. I have bound you with Ultra-Energy Restraints, which neutralize the powers you inherited from your father. Sadly, he died before the Penance was completed, but…”

“I am afraid you made a couple of errors,” said Star-Woman. “I recognize your story now. But your daughter was romantically involved with Jo Nah, the Ultra Boy; my father was Thom Kallor, the Star Boy.”

Lorinia Frake frowned. “One or the other, I suppose it makes no difference now, I will have my revenge, in any case. You will die. If I have to hunt down someone else later...” She reached for a switch near at hand, just beside her place at the table. She suddenly stumbled, then fell to the floor. Her guards rushed to her aid, but the same unknown force overcame them as well, their weapons falling from their hands as they collapsed.

“Your other error is in these Ultra-Energy Restraints,” said Star-Woman. “Although evidently effective in neutralizing my electro-cometary powers, you have left me with access to my inherited mass-inducing abilities. I have been gradually increasing the mass of the circuitry inside all your weapons, and now your bodies as well. In a few moments the circuitry inside these restraints will also collapse under its own weight…” The shackles shattered, and Star-Woman stood up.

* * *

Debris rained down from the ceiling on the Members, as Star-Woman came crashing through.

“I have destroyed the central processing system which controls the engines of this vessel,” she said. “It is immovable, as dead in space as any asteroid. I suppose we ought to alert the Science Police.”

“I already did,” said Saturn Girl. “Before we left Mars.”

“Then get onboard the Sojourner, I’ll break open this tin can, and let’s go meet them,” said Star-Woman. She smashed through the blast door, hurling it far out into space.

After a brief council with the Science Police, the Sojourner set a course for home.

CHAPTER NINETY-FOUR
DACEY AND ARNION: THIRD DATE

“Do you play 1O-S?” asked Arnion.

“A little,” said Dacey. “I’m not very good.”

“I’ll teach you,” said Arnion. “There are courts on the Intermediate School campus, and a Pro Shop opens up next door when the kids go home.”

“You know a lot about New Metropolis, for a non-native.” said Dacey.

“I get around,” said Arnion. “And I’ve been checking out places nearby that might be fun for us to go. For such a little town, there’s a lot here.”

They rented webrackets at the Pro Shop. Arnion helped Dacey with her serve. After a while, she would serve, and he would teleport to the other side of the net, starting a volley. Once they began playing in earnest, Dacey realized that it was hopeless. No matter her skill level, Arnion could be anywhere on the court instantly, and in the perfect position for a return.

“How about we try this without you using your powers?” asked Dacey.

Arnion shrugged. The next match was not quite so humiliating—Dacey scored a couple of points—but Arnion still beat her soundly.

“You know what?” said Dacey. “I’m going to turn in my racket.”

She was tired, and sweaty, and her muscles ached. She also felt humiliated by Arnion’s 1O-S prowess. And he had not been a good sport about it. Every win fed his ego, every game was a chance to gloat. She turned the sonic in the locker room on ‘extra-warm’, for a deep massage, while she washed off the day. She smelled something odd. It was the camellia-scent of Arnion’s teleportation. She looked out of the sonic shower, but saw nothing. But the locker room was brightly lit, so it was possible the mutant Mish Qengi was watching her invisibly. There was no one else there.

Dacey was not prude. She had spent thousands of hours on Winath dressed in only sandals and a Modesty®-- what Winathans referred to as thong-&-thongs—with mixed groups of females and males and xenales. But the idea of Arnion leering at her unseen as she soniced was creeping her out. She put it out of her mind. She took her time in the sonic, then redressed carefully. She moved slowly and deliberately around the locker room until she found the main light-switch. She plunged the room into darkness, and there was Arnion—glowing with faint yellow light, perfectly visible, and staring at her, grinning.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Arnion rushed her, pinning her arms against the lockers. He kissed her roughly, hungrily, biting her lips hard enough to draw blood.

“Stop it!” She pushed him away. “What has gotten into you?”

“I’m just tired of waiting.” He grabbed her again. “I don’t have to wait, you know. All I have to do is teleport you an inch, you’ll be unconscious, and I can do whatever I want with you for as long as I like.”

Dacey wrenched away again, starting to take flight in the confines of the small locker room. Arnion teleported, grabbing at her again. She had felt him preparing to teleport-- that odd sensation of yearning again. Prepared, her wrist caught in his hand. She pushed him away hard, with both hands, and this time sent a couple of hundred volts of electricity at him as well. He staggered, but recovered quickly, then vanished, appearing behind her. She hit him with her power again, harder this time, lightning lighting up the room. His involuntarily contracting muscles propelled him up against a wall, he hit awkwardly, drooped, and lay still.

Arnion lay in the dark, still glowing faintly. Dacey waited long enough to see that he was still breathing, then left, her destination the Clubhouse, with no stops in between.

“He’s dangerous,” Dacey told her sister. “I think he threatened to kill me. Or, at least, put me in a permanent neural coma, so that he could do what he wanted with my unconscious body. I’m going to file a report with the Martian SPs, but we need to find out if is this is something he has done before.”

“Research unexplainedly comatose teen-age girls in the news,” said Dorrit. “We can find his flight records, and run a cross-match. Flight registries are official public documents; it shouldn’t be too hard. And you need to register a complaint with a Mish Quengi embassy, and the Mish Quengi SPs, if the UP has stationed any there yet. In the meantime we have to keep you safe. We know something about him now that I don’t believe too many other people know…”

“He can’t teleport anywhere he can’t see. He can’t go through solid objects, not even windows. If we keep the lights low, he can’t turn invisible,” said Dacey. “And he smells of camellias. And the scent stronger whenever he teleports. And just before he vanishes, if he’s anywhere near me, I get this odd feeling…”

“I’ve felt it too,” said Dorrit. “I’m not sure how to describe it…”

“It’s a sort of a sense of wistful longing,” said Dacey. “I used to think that it was in anticipation of missing him—but I think it’s really a subconscious fear of possibly missing myself!”

&#8195;
CHAPTER NINETY-FIVE
DACEY UNSOULED

Half the Members were outside the Clubhouse when it happened.

Arnion appeared out of nowhere. He grabbed Dacey by the shoulders from behind. There was a blue-white flash of lightning as Dacey defended herself. It vanished with them both, then re-appeared with them, only a few yards away. Dacey and Arnion were lying on the ground. Arnion was unconscious, the victim of a severe electric shock. His hands were burned.

But Dacey was also lying on her back, motionless, her open eyes staring unseeing at the empty sky.

The hospital at Nix Olympica would only allow a few family members in at a time. Garridan and Graym and his wife were waiting in the hall with Mekt and the three Krinns. Salu and Ayla were back on Lightning Ring Farms, but started calling in every hour for an update. So far, there wasn’t much to report.

Garth and Imra Ranzz were in the hospital room with Dacey, and a Houyhnhnm physician named Dr. Hrunnhr. Dorrit had run out of tears an hour ago, but was just re-entering the room. There was a small, squarish portable stargate on the other side of the room near the window. Her parents were waiting for someone, but Dorrit didn’t know who. The stargate flared.

It was Querl Dox: Brainiac Five.

He nodded to Dr. Hrunnhr, but did not make eye contact with any of the Ranzz family. He cursorily examined the readouts above Dacey’s bed, then took out some sensor device of his own, then another, then another. He turned back to the stargate and vanished.

“What?” said Dorrit. “What? He’s here less than a minute, says nothing, and leaves? What kind of friend is that?”

“He said he would do what he could,” said Imra. “It may be…” Her voice cracked.

“There may be nothing he can do,” said Garth.

“But she’s alive!” said Dorrit. “Her living body is right here! And Mother, you must feel it! Her mind is… her mind is alive, too. Her thoughts are jumbled, confused, it’s like she’s in a deep sleep, beyond dreams even. But she’s alive! I know it! Mother, you must feel it, too!”

“Yes,” said Imra. “I perceive her thoughts, just as you do. Her mind is alive. But Dorrit… listen closely. You see? She’s not here. She’s somewhere else… far away.”

The stargate flared again.

The old woman had dark, leathery skin, and a port-wine stain that covered a quarter of her face. Her right ear was a vivid purple. Her chalk-white hair was braided into long white dreadlocks. She looked at the comatose young woman on the hospital bed, and nodded.

“Doctor Dox sent me,” she explained. “I am called Jenny Dark.” She offered a hand to each of the parents. “I can see that Doctor Dox is correct in his diagnosis. Your daughter has lost her soul. But I may be able to call it back.”

Garth and Imra gasped. Dorrit was confused.

The old woman walked over to the bed, and drew a complex geometric figure on Dacey’s forehead with red ochre. Then she reached into the large wicker bag she carried, and unfolded a small table and chair. She produced two fat black candles, and placed them on opposite sides of the table, lighting them without a match.

“This is absurd,” huffed Dr. Hrunnhr. “Practicing witchcraft in a hospital. But as I can prescribe no other course of treatment, pray continue, if you must.” He left the room.

“Now what do we do?” asked Imra.

“We wait,” said Jenny Dark. “We wait for her soul to return.”

Hours passed. Mekt and the Krinns took their turn in the room, then Garridan, Graym, and Yves. Everyone went for food except Jenny Dark, who sat silently and watched as the black candles burned.

After stepping out for a quick meal, Imra and Dorrit left the hospital, traveling the mile or so to the Science Police Station nearby.

Arnion sat cross-legged in a small holding cell behind a wall of transparent plasteel. Sat, that is, upside-down on the ceiling. When he saw the mother and daughter, he vanished with a pop, re-appearing immediately in the same position down on his bunk.

“Where is my daughter’s soul?” asked Imra Ardeen-Ranzz. “Where have you hidden it?”

“Is that what happens?” said Arnion with a grin. “I never would have guessed, but it makes sense, I suppose. I imagine there must be a great many ghosts of insects and small animals roaming around Mish Qeng now.”

Arnion’s left arm flew up over his head, then dropped down limp.

“Well, I can access your motor cortex,” said Imra, “but I can’t read your thoughts. What are you?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” said Arnion. He abruptly stood up from the cot, and his feet began to dance rapidly. After several minutes, his breath began to be labored.

“Dorrit, stop it!” cried Imra, looking at her daughter. “We can learn what we need to without... torture.” She turned to Arnion. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize at first it was my daughter doing that.”

“Good cop, bad cop,” said Arnion. “Interesting choice of roles.”

“Bring Dacey back,” said Imra. “We will let the SPs know that you cooperated.”

“Help me out of this cell,” said Arnion, “And I will show you how to find your daughter’s soul.”

“I think that price is too high,” said Imra.

“Well, you have another daughter, at least,” said Arnion. “Possibly more beautiful than the first. Instead of freeing me... let her spend some time alone with me in my new lodgings.” He swept his arms around the cell. “Half-an-hour ought to be sufficient. When I am finished with her, then you can have them both back.”

“I think not,” said Imra. She turned and walked away. The SP on duty let the two Ranzz women out the security door.

“I’ll do it, Mother,” said Dorrit. “I’ll do it to get Dacey back. I don’t care what happens to me.”

“I care,” said Imra. “I want both my daughters alive and whole. And Dorrit, when you have been in the mind-reading business as long as I have, you do not need telepathy to know when someone is lying. Arnion was genuinely surprised to learn what happens to his victims. I’m sure he doesn’t know how to reverse it. Probably, until we spoke just now, he had no idea that there was a possibility the effects of teleporting living beings could be reversed. But he is sociopathic enough to try to get some advantage out of it. Think about that. It was his first thought.”

The SP sergeant approached them.

“We have found reports of other cases, more victims,” he said. “All young girls, all humanoid, some Terran, some non-Terran. Most of them are in hospital, on life support, but one girl on Myar… she was in an isolated area, missing for days. She starved to death while comatose. This is a murder investigation now. They will be running rape kits, looking for genetic markers, but that perfume he constantly secretes leaves telltale, long-lasting evidence. We’re sure it was him. He’s going nowhere for a long, long time, if that’s any consolation.”

When they returned to the hospital, Garth was waiting outside, ready to relieve Garridan, Graym, and Yves.

“Can we get you something to eat?” Imra asked Jenny Dark.

“No thank you,” said the old woman. She shook her head. “Either she cannot hear, or she cannot find us,” she said. “She may be too far away. But I will stay until the candles burn out. Then… I am afraid there is nothing more I can do.”

A nurse knocked on the door.

“There is someone here, who says he is not family, but asks that you allow him to see the patient,” she said. “He says his name is Jacques Foccart.”

“Jacques? I thought he was on Earth, not Mars,” said Garth. “Certainly, I suppose…”

Jacques Foccart’s hair had gone full gray, but there was still a pronounced white streak down the center. His eyes looked tired.

“Comment est-ce possible?” cried Jenny Dark, springing up from her seat. “L'avez-vous vraiment apporté? Mr. and Mrs. Ranzz, this young man has brought us your daughter’s soul.”

“Quand je suis invisible,” Jacques explained, “Je vois des âmes mortes.”

“She’s here!” Dorrit cried out. “Mother, can you hear her mind? He… somehow… brought Dacey here!”

“She was still back at your Clubhouse,” Jacques told Dorrit. “Our Coluan friend asked me to take a look.I have just come from there. None of the Members of your ‘Super-Hero Club’ saw me come, or saw us go. It did take some time to get here. She is easily lost, on the other side.”

“Merci, jeune homme,” Jenny Dark said to Jacques. The old woman stretched out her hands, reaching across the hospital bed into the empty air. “Come, child,” she said. “Lie down, Rest here, where your body lies.”

Dacey sprung upright in bed, her eyes snapping open. “Wow! I’m starving,” she said. “How long have I been asleep?” She rubbed her temples. “Oh, that was the weirdest dream ever.” She looked up at Dorrit. “From now on, any time I go on a date, you are welcome to all the voyeurism you can stand.”

“I have some bad news about Arnion,” said Dorrit.

“What, that he’s a charming sociopath?” said Dacey. “I already figured that out.”

“He is terribly dangerous,” said Imra. “When I was talking to him at the jail, even though he was saying horrible things, I couldn’t help but like him. Almost. He has some sort of subtle, projective charisma.”

Dorrit turned to Jacques. “Monsieur Foccart, the SPs have found other girls like Dacey. I don’t know how many. Do you think you could help find them?”

“Querl did not tell me this was going to be a long-term assignment,” said Jacques. “But I am glad to be of use. If these young women’s souls remain where they were last teleported away from, they may be easy to find. However, I am not sure I have the skill to return their souls to their living bodies. I have never tried.”

“I believe, for this project, I can clear my calendar for a few weeks,” said Jenny Dark. “Cela ne vous dérangerait-il pas de me tenir compagnie?”

“I would be honored,” said Jacques Foccart. “Although I am not as young as I used to be.”

“None of us are, cher enfant,” said Jenny Dark.


[b]CHAPTER NINETY-SIX
ARNION OF MISH QENG[b]

A few months later.

The two golden Mish Qengi adults stood uneasily before Jenny Dark. Their golden wings trembled with anticipation.

“He will not be the child you knew,” The old woman explained. “He will be lost, confused, and will need much help adjusting to this world he has been absent from for so long.”

The man and his wife nodded. This strange, alien sorceress had come into their home, with strange, but somehow comforting stories. Now she painted complex geometric symbols on the walls and ceiling of the little bedroom, kept just as it had been for nearly twelve years now.

Jenny Dark set up her small table, and lit the black candles. She prepared to do battle.

First, a teleportation spell.

The body of Arnion appeared, from wherever he was being held by the Science Police, sitting cross-legged on the bed.

“Come out of him,” commanded Jenny Dark.

“Won’t,” said the golden boy.

“From your infantile behavior, your lack of self-control, your lack of planning, and your general, all-around foolishness, I suspect you are one of the younger, lesser imps,” said Jenny Dark. “If I am wrong, this may hurt me more than it hurts you.”

She placed a hand onto the top of Arnion’s head, and pulled. The boy screamed, then fell unconscious on the bed. The old sorceress found herself holding a bright green demon, no more than a foot tall. It was mostly head.

“Umm.. Your wish is my command?” mewled the demon.

“Go to Hell,” said Jenny Dark, and the demon evaporated downward in a pillar of green smoke and flame.

The old woman looked into the empty space above the bed. “I know this doesn’t look like the body you remember,” she said, “But a good deal of time has passed since you last inhabited it. Won’t you give it a try?”

Arnion slowly opened his eyes. His parents gasped.

“Now, this is very important,” said Jenny Dark to the boy. “You mustn’t teleport any more. I’m putting a little mark on you, to make it easier for you not to.” She dabbed the boy’s forehead in a complex pattern of red ochre, which faded into a bright silver filigree. “If you lose your soul again, I might not be able to find it.”

She turned to the parents. “He will grow up quickly,” she told them. “Re-learning everything from the missing twelve years in a very short time. His inability to fly is a serious handicap on your world, and one your culture makes no allowance for. But this is a gift to your son from a man on Colu.” She held out a flight ring, but one with no emblem of any kind. “It will enable him to fly without wings. Perhaps this will make it easier for him to fit in.” She slipped the ring onto one of Arnion’s fingers.

“You don’t have wings,” said Arnion. “Like me.” He considered. “I’m hungry, he told his parents.”

“Of course you are,” said Jenny Dark. “I will leave you now.”

She packed up her wicker bag and left the way she had come.

All's well that ends well, for Arnion and Dacey. That was a sad plot as it was going along, though - the danger signs got worse yet Dacey stayed with him. All too real - and you want to say run far, run fast from that guy but you know she won't listen. I should have caught on that an imp was involved when he said he was just playing.

So it's going to be Elonville and not Bradbury City?

Nice to see that Star Woman, for all her power, doesn't overshadow the Young Legion.

Leave it to the androids of Zuun to establish a utopian agrarian society. They could teach us a thing or two.

These kids come off as much more down to Earth (or Mars, as the case may be) than their predecessors. There's something delightfully practical and unperturbable about them.

Well, I would hope the resolution is left a bit more ambiguous... and it couldn't have happened without the help of Demonology and Necromancy.

Plus the elder Legionnaires had to pull the kids' bacon out of the fire again.



Elonville was ultimately a failure.

There are a lot of cities on Mars by the 31st century. The domed Mars City, Nix Olympica, Marshall City, Marsopolis, New Metropolis, Argyre City, Arcadia, Tholus, and others. It is still under-populated, however.

=========================================================================================================================

I found that I needed a flying brick to get the Super Hero Club off of Mars, so I recruited Kallor Nal, the Star-Woman, daughter of the late, lamented Thom Kallor and Nura Nal.
Possessing all the powers of any Star Boy in any continuity as well as Naltoran precognitive powers, she is at the power level of Superboy, Supergirl, Mon-El and Laurel Gand.
Aside from a bland ‘heroic’ personality like Kal-El or Rokk Krinn, I have had some difficulty defining Kallor as a character.
“Trained” as a Planetary Champion on Naltor and New Titan under the watchful eye of her mother, the High Seer, she nevertheless had little practical experience before joining the Super-Hero Club, as her mother and the Cassandran Council were highly protective of her.
She also has a little bit of money behind her.
Kallor is several years older than the other Members; and the difference between fourteen and twenty-three is significant at those ages.

There are several other characters I considered using, but ultimately rejected.
(mostly time-travelers)

Lili Van-Zee
Val Colby
Hyper-Boy (Chester King)
An antique Superboy-robot (restored by Ten)
Arna Nah (who gains ultra-powers when in the Earthside dimension for long enough)
Ariella Kent / R’E’L (She’s ten years older than the last time you saw her, and has full control of her powers)
Resurrection Boy (Mitchell Shelley)
Amistad Ervin
Magni Donarsson
Phaéton
A new version of Cir-El

Some of them may still show up.

=========================================================================================================================

Cramer: from the german 'Krämer', originally a chandler or candlemaker, now a grocer, or seller of particular small items.

CHAPTER NINETY-SEVEN
JO NAH, AUTO MECHANIC

The chicken had been marinated in herbs and a strong alcohol overnight. Ffarrah had rented a thermal stove for a day.

“Remember, I’ve only made this once before,” she told the Members. “And it’s going to be at least a couple of hours before it’s done.”

No one but the other Triplicates and Chameleon were interested in waiting around to watch the process.

Ffarrah loaded two kilos of salt into a deep, heavy pan, and heated it on the thermal stove. She then completely covered the cloth-wrapped chicken with the hot salt, and let it cook for another two hours.

Chameleon had discovered that he could digest virtually any Terran food, if drenched in a sauce of either Kim Chee, Hawaiian Poi, Miso, or Mr. Prospero’s mysterious antique-recipe yoghurt. The chicken was wonderfully tasteless and dry, taking on the flavour of each of Chameleon’s dipping sauces, and his copper chloride salts.

The Triplicates had their own strong-flavored dipping sauces, ginger, chile, and garlic.

“You’re not throwing all that salt away, are you?” asked Matter-Eater Lad. “That’s a good two or three meals for me. It fuses into nickel, which is very good for my digestion.”

“You’re welcome to it,” said Ffarrah. “I’ll need to buy fresh if I want to make this recipe again.”

“Please do,” said Chameleon.

Recipe: Chinese Hakka Chicken Baked in Salt

Jo Nah’s truck pulled up outside the clubhouse. It was about as long as Star-Woman’s Space Van, but differently configured.

“I don’t usually make house calls on Mars this far away from Agyre City,” he said. “But for Irinia, and Garth and Rokk’s kids, I make an exception.”

His hair was long and unkempt, he had the perpetual three-day growth of beard Phantom Girl had become accustomed to. He might have come off rakish, had his hair and beard not been shot through with gray. He had the beginnings of a pot belly.

Star-Woman went out to meet him.

“It seems odd that a former Legionnaire would be in the car-repair business,” she noted.

“Can’t play the hero forever,” said Jo Nah. “Besides, back in the beginning of the Legion, before we were fighting Multiple All-Powerful Incarnations of Evil, we did a lot of that kind of stuff. People used to bring their cars by the old Clubhouse, and we would see what we could do to help fix them.”



“Did you really?” said Star-Woman.

“Now you wanted a 5-D Tesseractoid Cleanroom installed, young lady,” said Jo Nah, “and a Vibrator?”

“I’m sorry, what?” asked Star-Woman.

“A Vibrator. You know string theory?” said Jo Nah. “Discredited ancient particle physics, but useful when talking in approximations. Everything is supposedly made out of vibrating eleven-dimensional strings. Each parallel universe has its own unique ‘resonance frequency’. Re-tune your strings with a cosmic Vibrator, and you sync up with the appropriate universe. This one--” He held up a device about the size of a shoe box. “-- when attached to your Space-Van, will allow you to move you between Earth, Bgztl, and the Phantom Zone. Just don’t try re-configuring it as a Phantom Zone ray projector. First place, it’s illegal. Second place, it’s a tricky prospect, and you might get stuck somewhere you don’t want to be… permanently.”

“I’m not looking to outfit the Space Van with weapons,” said Star-Woman.

“That might be a mistake,” said Jo Nah. “The old Legion always had awesome blasters on all the later models of the cruisers. Say, that’s one of our old Mark II’s, isn’t it?”

“We salvaged it, and turned it into a Clubhouse,” said Star-Woman. “Well, the others did.”

“Now there’s an idea,” said Jo Nah. “I wonder if I could pick up a few of those old Legion cruisers, and start a Martian motel chain. Might be a good investment for my retirement.”

“You’ll never retire, Mr. Nah,” said Phantom Girl, exiting from the clubhouse. “You love tinkering with other people’s machines too much.”

Jo Nah scratched his beard. “You may have a point there, Irinia,” he said. “Let me get to work on that Space Van.”

“Is there anything we can help you with?” asked Star-Woman.

“Well, you could pick me up a thramm sandwich and a cold guaraná for when I finish; I haven’t had lunch.”

“Thramm sandwich?” asked Star-woman, looking at Phantom Girl.

“I think the best substitute on this side of the Phantom Zone would be a thick pastrami-on-rye,” said Phantom Girl.

“You’re Thom and Nura’s girl, aren’t you?” said Jo Nah, over lunch.

“Yes,” said Star-Woman, “But I never knew my father.”

“Tinya and I really haven’t kept in touch,” said Jo Nah. “With any of the old gang, really. It was pretty traumatic for my wife at the end. She was Legion Leader, and there were a lot of deaths, one after another. She struggled for a couple of years with depression and PTSD. After the Legion was permanently disbanded.”

“I didn’t know that,” said Star-Woman. “I’m not… my mother doesn’t talk much about her time with the Legion. Sort of a finishing school for royals, wasn’t it? Naltor, Orando, Talok VIII, Sorcerer’s World-- they all sent their future rulers to the Legion for training, in their teens.”

Jo Nah nodded. “Never really thought of it that way,” he paused, thinking. “I have something that belonged to your father,” he said. “And I think he’d probably like for you to have it. I’m sure I don’t know what to do with it, after all these years. I’ll send it by Interplanetary Express after I get back home to Gzbk.”

The package arrived the next day. It wasn’t very large.

Korvea gasped. “That’s the Quarvat,” she exclaimed.

“A what?” asked Phantom Girl.

Star-Woman lifted the short golden wand out of the packaging. It glowed faintly.

“It’s also called a gravity rod,” said Star-Woman. “An extremely powerful weapon. Ancient Terran technology; but hard to replicate. Only a very few were ever made. It absorbs and concentrates stellar energy, both electromagnetic and gravitational. They say it’s on a power level with an Oan power ring. I can’t think where my father could have acquired it. Or how it ended up in Mr. Nah’s possession."

CHAPTER NINETY-EIGHT
CIRCUS PACHT

The Members spent the next day practicing with the Star-Rod. Only Star-Woman seemed to have any affinity for it; only Korvea could even make it sputter a little.

“It seems unfair,” said Ffarrah. “She’s so powerful already.”

“I’ll agree with you for once,” said Ffiona.

“We have an invitation,” interrupted Saturn Girl.

Star-Woman was demonstrating, again, her increasingly fine control of levitation.

“Invitation?” she asked. “Not ‘mission’?”

“Yes,” Saturn Girl replied. “The Pacht has invited us to their Capital World, to have us demonstrate our powers.”

“The Pacht,” said Polar Lass. “Who or what is that?”

“They’re something like the Tellarite Federation,” said Ffiona. “A subgroup of the United Planets, with common interests.”

“Like the Pentad of the Krill,” said Shrinking Violet. “Imsk, Orzde, Torad, Vruun and Ikros. Of course, that kind of fell apart, what with all the interfamilial feuding.”

“The Tellarites are Porcinoids,” Ffey added. “The Pacht are Pachyderms. Ganesagarians, Nilpferdmaener, N’Shorn, Xiniu, Oliphaunts, Heffalumps… you know.”

“Wow, I’m not the only one who’s going to feel small,” said Shrinking Violet.

“Well, I’m not sure yet we’re going,” said Saturn Girl. “They’re only asking for a demonstration of our powers-- sort of like a Royal Command Performance. It seems kind of… demeaning.”

“Yeah,” said Cosmic Boy. “Like we’re a circus act, or something.”

“My opinion is,” said Lightning Lass, “Any publicity is good publicity.”

“I tend to agree with Lightning Lass,” said Star-Woman. “Although after the fiasco on Zuun, we need to make sure we’re not walking into some sort of trap.”

“Trapped by elephants,” said Matter-Eater Lad, chuckling. “Now that would be demeaning.”

“There are two types of Ganesagarians,” said Chameleon, stepping back from the group a bit. “The Southern, or Equatorial Gans,” he assumed the form of a twelve-foot-tall, four-armed, double-trunked bipedal elephantoid colored in bright orange. “And the Northern, or Arctic race.” He grew into a twenty-foot tall version with longer tusks and long, ropy grey-brown hair covering its body.

He then quickly demonstrated typical examples of the hippopotamus-like Nilpferdmaener, the rhinoceros-like N’Shorn and Xiniu, the truly massive Oliphaunts, and the somewhat smaller Heffalumps.

“There are a few other species peripherally associated with the Pacht as well,” said Ten. “I suppose we will find out when we get there.”

“So it seems we’re decided on going?” asked Saturn Girl. “Any objections?”

“The Apprentices of Tharn put on a show for us,” said Ffiona. “I don’t suppose it would do any harm to do the same for the Pacht.”

“That’s not an objection,” said Saturn Girl. “But thank you for your input. Objections? Anyone?”

There were no objections. The next few days, training time was used to design demonstrations for each of the Members that would best highlight their powers.

“Pol and Dacey, you really ought to show off some of the techniques you have developed to use your powers in tandem,” said Saturn Girl.

“Such as?” asked Star-Woman.

“I can use my powers to boost the strength of Pol’s magnetism,” said Lightning Lass. “If I don’t electrocute him.”

Cosmic Boy scowled. “I’ve learned to handle quite a jolt,” he said. “And I can funnel and focus Dacey’s lightning into what is essentially a particle beam. And we can generate ELF waves: Extremely Low Frequency electromagnetic radiation. We haven’t really found a practical use for it, though. If there was another set of us, we could use it for long-distance communication.”

“I think we ought to show them something surprising,” Saturn Girl opined. “Dacey and I have a psychic link separate from my other telepathic abilities. Our communication is undetectable by any telepaths we’ve encountered, even Mother. And unjammable, as far as we have been able to tell. But I’m not sure we could or should demonstrate it, as… well, it’s not exactly a secret, but we haven’t advertised it broadly.”

“I didn’t even find out until last year,” said Cosmic Boy. “And I’ve known them since I was a baby.”

Shrinking Violet had worked up a size-shifting-enhanced gymnastics routine. Matter-Eater Lad Two had asked Ten to prepare some highly toxic and explosive chemicals, but Ten demurred, leaving Hillarie to rustle up his own collection of edibles. Polar Lass proved her control of cold was improving by leaps and bounds; she had demonstrated her talent at nitrogen ice sculpting.

“Liquid oxygen is magnetic,” Ten pointed out. “You might also be able to work up a doubles routine with Cosmic Boy.”

Chameleon had a wide range of shapes to choose from. “Many of the larger forms are hollow,” he explained. “Durlans can absorb mass from… somewhere… but it is a talent that improves with age.

The Triplicates were rehearsing a Tri Chi routine. Korvea was well-prepared to demonstrate her shadow and shape-shifting powers. And, of course, Star-Woman’s presentation was the longest of all, as she demonstrated each of her innate abilities, as well as the power of the gravity rod.

Ten brought along the nanny-bot, Vesta, and wore his micro-motel as an amulet around his neck.

The Members climbed aboard the newly renovated Sojourner, and set course for Kraal, the Pacht Capital World.

===========================================================================================================================

CHAPTER NINETY-NINE
POWER PACHT

The Pacht’s Coliseum on Kraal was ten times the size of a football stadium, with an enclosing roof a half-kilometer high. Clouds gathered high in the interior, a permanent fixture.

The first event was a formal dinner feting the Members, so the center of the Coliseum floor was covered with tables of all sizes, designed for twelve- twenty- and fifty-foot diners. There was a raised platform, a cross between a pedestal and a stage, on which the tiny Member’s table sat. It was carefully placed so that all the Pacht had a fine view, and the Members had a fine view of the variety of Pacht attendees in return.

Their ambassador and guide was a relatively small woman, only about seven feet tall. She was rail-thin, her elephantine head almost comically oversized. She pointed out two small tables in the distance, lost among the giants, where her people sat.

“What do you call your world?” asked Chameleon conversationally.

“Home,” was the puzzled reply.

“No, he means, what do you call your people?” said Ffiona.

“We call one another by our names. My name is Silonia.”

“No, what do you call all your people together?” asked Ffiona. “Or if you don’t know their names?”

Silonia nodded, finally understanding. “We call one another ‘Sister’. It is a term of respect.”

“And what do you call our worlds, and our people?’ asked Chameleon. “The other worlds and peoples of the United Planets?”

“Your worlds are your own Homes, are they not?” asked Sister Silonia. “And you are also are Sisters, are you not?”

The Master of Ceremonies, a great golden Ganesagarian, chose this moment to begin his welcoming speech in the long, droning, rumbling Ganesagarian language. A smaller Heffalump simultaneously translated into Interlac. It seemed nearly interminable, but actually went on for only a little over an hour and a half. By the end of the welcome, Shrinking Violet’s stomach was growling. Only Ten seemed actually interested in the speech, which contained a great deal of history of the various Pacht worlds.

The food was served in great portions on eighteen-inch plates, adequate for Sister Silonia, but a feast for the members. Matter-Eater Lad Two was careful to eat only the food served him, and not the plates, cups, bowls, or cutlery.

After only a brief twenty-minute introduction, it was the Members’ turn to perform. The Coliseum floor was cleared, the Pacht took their seats in the stadium stands. The Members went through their practiced routines, and the Pacht, for the most part, politely applauded. When the Triplicates and Shrinking Violet performed, however, they clapped and stomped and trumpeted enthusiastically.

Star-Woman was careful to exhibit all her powers, including her mastery of the Star-Rod. Still, she received a far less enthusiastic response.

When their program was finished, the Members returned to their table. The pedestal had been moved back closer to the stands.

“It’s not over yet,” said Ten.

A Heffalump came out-- the smallest they had ever seen, less than ten feet tall. He nodded to the assembly, then suddenly shattered into a thousand pieces, flying all about the Coliseum. One fragment-- a replica of the original, only a foot tall-- landed on their table.

He bowed to Shrinking Violet and the Triplicate Girls. “This is why they were so pleased with your performance,” he said “You are able to shrink without multiplying, and to multiply without shrinking. It is something they had never seen before.” He bowed again, and the fragments from around the Coliseum re-assembled themselves into the great Heffalump again.”

“His name is Ogin,” said Ten. “Sister Silonia gave me a program.” He held up a large, thick magazine.

There were Pacht who performed lightning feats, and one who summoned ice. Two Hippo-like Pacht juggled fire and lava, respectively. Another Hippo displayed the power to turn invisible. One Rhinoid had the power of super-speed, racing another Rhino who could turn into a ray of light. All the Member’s powers were replicated, including a Matter-Eating Hippo. And there was more: an Elephantine Blue Lantern, and an immense Oliphaunt, so huge that the second-largest only came up to his chin, who displayed all of Star-Woman’s powers, and more.

“He is called ‘Ultra-Oliphaunt’,” Ten explained. “He is the Champion of the entire Pacht Sector.”

“I’m a little bit humbled by this display,” said Saturn Girl. “Just that illusionist-- amazing psychic ability.”

“But your powers are so much more useful,” said Sister Silonia. “You have set yourself as a bulwark against the spread of Evil. It is why the Pacht can confidently live in peace, using the fantastic abilities of our Gifted only for entertainment.”

“You have no Evil in the Pacht?” asked Cosmic Boy skeptically.

“No great Evil,” said Sister Silonia. “No war, no crime, no hatred, no greed. Accident and disease, naturally, but we have fine physicians, and they are getting finer. Only Ultra-Oliphaunt has ever met Evil face-to-face, and that was from outside the Pacht.”

“I might like to move to your Home,” said Phantom Girl.

Sister Silonia laughed merrily. “Yes, and welcome! Bring your spouses and daughters, as well!”

The sun was rising when the party broke up. The great golden Master of Ceremonies offered a place for the Members to stay and rest, but Star-Woman put the Sojourner on autopilot, and they slept in the car on the way back to Mars.

I must have seen that panel with Brainy & Kara 50 times and I never once noticed them working on the car in the background, that's hilarious

I really like the Pacht! I might steal them for my series if you don't mind!

Raz: Thanks for commenting.

re: Working on cars: teens in the 2950's did the same kind of stuff as teens in the 1950's, only IN SPACE.

If I can steal, you can steal. If I understand copyright correctly, everything on the website belongs to Nightcrawler anyway.

One of Silonia's people worked on Planet Quarantine in 5YL, but I haven't been able to find a picture.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED
BRADBURY AND BURROUGHS

When they reached the Clubhouse, the first thing they noticed was a great ship taking up half the parking lot. The second thing they noticed was an SP-Mars cruiser parked beside it.

Black Flame and Villian the Sorcerer came out to meet them.

“It’s nothing to worry about,” said Black Flame. “Good news, actually. We’ve been…”

“You’d better let the officers explain,” Villian interrupted. “They’ll be able to give them the whole story.”

“We have a couple of guests,” said Black Flame. “It’s a good thing we have a spare room.”

The two guests turned out to be SP officers from Nix Olympica, Officers Bradbury and Burroughs.

“That ship you see out there,” said Officer Bradbury. “Is a Daxamite Pirate Ship. They came here looking for you. And by you, I mean, the whole Super-Hero Club. They were pretty upset when we told them you were off-planet. I don’t think they believed us. They attempted a super-speed attack on Mars, but… well, since the Dark War, a lot of planets have been putting up defenses against another Daxamite invasion. It was kind of a low priority for Mars, seeing what a small planet we are, but after you kids discovered that Daxamite in the Superman Museum, Central stepped things up a bit.”

“We tracked them with a Coluan Super-Computer,” said Officer Burroughs. “Then hit them with a new stun-beam from Kormo. Our med-techs tell us they’ve got some kind of enhanced anti-lead serum, that gives them powers under a red sun, and doesn’t wear off for 96 hours. So we got Gzbk to hold them in the Phantom Zone until the Daxamite SP’s can pick them up.”

“If you keep them in the Phantom Zone,” Phantom Girl offered, “The serum will never wear off.”

Officer Bradbury shrugged. “That’s above my pay grade. We’re just here to deliver their ship. The Revenge, I think it is.”

“Renegade,” Star-Woman corrected.

“Right. Well, anyway, since you’re the ones they were interested in killing, Central decided you can keep their ship until Daxam picks it up as evidence, or, more likely, relinquishes a claim to it altogether.”

“I wouldn’t try to fly it, though,” said Officer Burroughs. “It’s held together with forks and hope. Not very space-worthy.”

“You’re sure you got them all?” asked Star-Woman.

“There were only three,” said Officer Burroughs. “Our Coluan computers easily tracked them. There was a Psion on board their ship when we found it. Some kind of techno-slave, we think. He must have had some kind a personal teleporter, though. Escaped to somewhere, we don’t know where. Those things don’t have much of a range, though. We figure he must still be somewhere in the Sol System.”

“I wouldn’t worry, though,” said Officer Bradbury. “Lone Psions are cowardly, snaky little creatures. I don’t think you’ll have anything to worry about from him”

“What about the ship?” asked Star-Woman. “How do you know every switch and pad isn’t booby-trapped?”

Officer Burroughs shrugged. “We don’t. You’re the heroes. I thought Adventure was your thing.”

“Well, we can wait awhile until Daxam lets us know if they’ll take it off our hands.” Star-Woman said. “Then… I don’t know. If we can keep Ten out of it, maybe we’ll just dump it into the Hellespont.”

“Don’t do that,” said Officer Bradbury. “We’d have to give you a ticket for littering.”


CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED ONE
MINI-CHAMELEON

Ffiona, Ffarrah, and Ffey appraised the three Chameleons.

“They move more convincingly now,” said Ffiona, “They look like they’re moving independently. Is it hard?”

“It takes concentration,” replied the left-hand Chameleon.

“The ropey umbilicals running between your backs are kind of a give-away, though,” said Ffey. Chameleon merged back into a single form.

“Could a Durlan ever really split into two or more individuals?” asked Ffarrah.

“It is possible,” said Chameleon. “However, once divided, they could never truly re-merge.” He walked over to Ffarrah, and extended his hand. She took it, and a tiny, two-inch-tall Chameleon slowley emerged from the Durlan’s fingers, walking over to her palm.

“Wow!” said Ffarrah. “My own little mini-Chameleon!”

“Now I’m jealous,” said Ffey.

“Me too,” said Ffiona.

Chameleon shuddered. “I did not expect this to be so draining. Perhaps I had better lie down for a few minutes.”

The Triplicates were left alone.

A couple of days later, Ffarrah came to visit Chameleon's quarters. She brought the mini-Chameleon with her.

“It’s about as smart as a little bird,” she said. “It can’t talk, but it’s sweet. It stays with me all the time. But I’m worried. It doesn’t seem to be doing very well. Maybe it needs special food?”

“It’s just getting old," said Chameleon. "I imagine it... its life will end, in another day or two.”

Ffarrah looked shocked.

“When a Durlan divides as I did, a part of the original’s life-force goes into the duplicate. That’s why I made it so small-- I only gave away a few days of life. Surely, as a Cargggan, you understand?”

“You… you gave up a few days of your life to create the mini-Chameleon for me?” asked Ffarrah.

“What are few days, more or less, out of how many years?” said Chameleon. “And I may even regenerate... recover from such a small effort. There are other things I do every day which are at least as dangerous.”

“Well, don’t do it again,” said Ffarrah. “I hope you... I want you to live as long as possible.”

“I can’t promise...,” Chameleon began. “In an extremity… such an ability might come in useful. However, I had quite a headache for some time afterwards, even after a nap. So, no, I won’t be doing it every day. And I will certainly, by definition, live as long as possible.”


CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWO
M.E.T.E.O.R. STRIKE

A cab dropped off the trio in the parking lot. The man had spiky white hair, and pale skin with a glossy finish. The woman was equally pale, with a slightly greenish tinge. Her hair was green-and-white striped, and flowed as if it were made of water. Her ears were as tall and pointed as Chameleon’s. The each looked about Pol’s parents’ age.

Then there was the little boy who looked about five.

Cosmic Boy went over to shake their hands.

“We haven’t scheduled any try-outs,” he explained.

The woman laughed. “No, we’re not here for that sort of thing. I’m Tayla Kohan, this is my husband Bobb, and this is our little boy, Scott. We represent MeTeOR, the Meta-Terran Orientation and Re-Education Project, a non-profit NGO. Non-governmental agency. We were wondering if we could speak to the four Earthers who are living here.”

She gave Cosmic Boy a small ring, embedded with a tiny gravity-crystal. The crystal displayed a business card with contact information.

“I’m a meta-Terran,” said Cosmic Boy. “My father is a Braalien, and my mother is Kathooni. Why do I need ‘Orientation and Re-Education’?”

“MeTeOR,” said Mrs. Kohan. “Helps meta-Terrans who are having difficulty fitting into modern Earth society. We understand the four Earthers you have as guests are having legal difficulties at present.”

“They are not exactly our guests,” said Cosmic Boy. “The Super-Hero Club was appointed their court-order guardians, when they were not allowed them to return to their parent’s homes. They are here on Mars awaiting trial. There seems to be some sort of delay. They were hoping to quickly return to school, but that seems unlikely now. It has been a few weeks.”

“Oh, that is unfortunate,” said Mrs. Kohan. “If we could speak to them? The services our NGO provides…”

“There are certainly a great many unofficial NGOs on Earth these days,” said Cosmic Boy. “Most of them related to the Earth-First Movement. Or the neo-Niedrighs. Or the Urneanderthals. That’s what the devolutionary extremists on Earth call themselves, isn’t it? They don’t have much respect for Braaliens or Kathooni.”

Lightning Lass lighted lightly from the sky. “That is certainly an interesting little boy, don’t you think, Pol?”

“Oh, I agree,” said Cosmic Boy. “Are Bungle, Atta, Kimota or Annie interested in meeting with these two?”

“Not at all,” said Lightning Lass. “My sister announced them shortly after they arrived, but they’re binge-watching some Space Opera with Kallor.”

“Oh, but I’m very interested in meeting them,” said Saturn Girl. She and Phantom Girl had just made a steep flying parabola from the Clubhouse. “You don’t recognize them, do you, Pol? They used to be friends of our parents, a long time ago. But they knew Uncle Chuck and Aunt Lluornu much better.”

“And what an absolutely darling little robot boy,” said Phantom Girl. “Did you know that Braaliens can see magnetic fields, and Kathooni can see into the infrared, and Lightning Lass can see electric fields? And we non-Terran Bgztlr can see through anything.”

She reached her hand into ‘Scott Kohan’’s head, and pulled out a memory wire.

“What’s this? Some sort of recording device? Now you weren’t looking to trick our guests into somehow incriminating themselves? Or appearing to?”

The little Scott Kohan robot looked stunned and disoriented.

“I think we had better be going,” said Mr. Kohan, angrily.

“Safe journey.” said Saturn Girl. “Oh, and you might want to get those mental blocks looked at. They can become uncomfortable if you let them go untreated for too long. Have you been experiencing headaches, or difficulty concentrating?”

“What mental blocks?” asked Mrs. Kohan.

“The one that prevents you from thinking for yourself,” said Saturn Girl. “And makes you think you two are married. And prevents you from seeing your little boy is a robot. You didn’t hear that last word, did you? It’s probably just hypnotic, but there may be a chip involved. I loosened it a little, but you really need to go see a reputable physician.”

Mr. Kohan looked at his ‘wife’. “Tayla?” he said.

“We need to go,” said ‘Mrs. Kohan’. “Our cab should be here momentarily.”

“They seemed nice,” said Lightning Lass. “I’ll have to tell Uncle Chuck we met a couple of his old students when we see him next Christmas.”

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THREE
THE CYBORG MANHUNTER

My Mother was dying, and it was my fault.

We had been excavating an ancient graveyard in what had once been the Persian Empire. But these graves were ten thousand years older.

It was an anomaly. The remains of a high-tech robot were found in the bottom of one grave beneath a grave beneath a grave. We began excavating it. My mother identified the machine as an Oan Manhunter Robot, one of the precursors to the Green Lantern Corps. Many pieces had rusted away, or were missing, including one full arm, and parts of the head and positronic brain. The pattern of damage and dents seemed to indicate it had been attacked, possibly with stone axes.

We also found a squarish, corroded lantern: green, but not a Green Lantern. One of the earlier, precursor Manhunter models.

We had no idea that it was leaking radiation.

Mother kept it with her in her tent for examination. It was even there when she slept. She received a massive dose of strange, alien radiation.

At first, she seemed just tired. This would have been almost normal; she had been out on digs since before I was born, and she wasn’t getting any younger. The third day after we found the Manhunter, she woke up bald, her hair left behind on her pillow. Her skin was a bilious yellow-green. Burn-like sores began to erupt throughout the day.

We recognized the symptoms of radiation poisoning, and it wasn’t hard to identify the source. I moved the Manhunter battery back into the excavation site, and put in a call to Metropolis University for an emergency extraction. Things were looking grim, but not disastrous. It would be a few hours until the rescue ship arrived, but it looked like we could wait it out.

Then the Manhunter showed up.

I was in Mother’s tent, giving her water, keeping her hydrated. I was beginning to feel tired, beginning to experience some of the effects of radiation poisoning myself. The damaged robot entered jerkily, its half-head held at a bizarre angle. It went right up to Mother. Electrical tentacles snaked out of its chest, implanting in Mother’s skin. Circuitry began to grow, replacing the flesh in her body. I was terrified.

“No!” I shouted. “Not my mother!” and then, “Take me instead!”

The robot shifted its attention. The tentacles removed themselves from my mother, and sunk into me. The pain was agonizing, but when it was over, my mind connected with the mechanical mind of the robot. The realization of the was worse than the pain.

The thing had not been attacking my mother. It had been trying to save her, by fusing itself with her dying body. I had stopped it. It had merged with me, instead.

By the time the rescue ship had arrived, my mother was dead. The interrupted Manhunter ‘cure’ had killed her.

With the robot’s knowledge now directly accessible to me, I was able to repair the green battery. I am no longer Dr. Victoria Jones, archaeologist. I am the Cyborg Manhunter, a Champion of Justice. The fusion process appears to be irreversible. Without my mechanical parts, I would die.

The Manhunter’s oath was, ‘No Man Escapes The Manhunters’.

Stupid.

My new Manhunter motto is from Nietzsche: “Wer Mit Ungeheuern Kämpft, Mag Zusehn, Dass Er Nicht Dabei Zum Ungeheuer Wird.”

But it is too late for me.


CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FOUR
JUSTICE LEAGUE EARTH VS. MISTER WONDERLAND

The Justice League of Earth
“Doctor Shakespeare”
Richard Kent Shakespeare of Earth

(2) “Princess Xenobia”
Princess Xenobia of Io (Sol System), home of the Themiscryan Amazonian diaspora

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

(4) “The Bat-Woman”
Plutonian bat-winged, squid-headed woman, true name unknown.

(5) “Rush”
Mara Williams of Earth

(6) “Devil-Fish”
Danava Matsya of Earth (Atlantean)

(7) “The Cyborg Manhunter”
Victoria Jones of Earth

==============================================================================================

The conference room was almost too small for the Justice League to fit into. It had not been designed for them. The dozen villains sat in their refuge, spread around a huge table. They took up most of the floor space in the small room.

“You are under arrest. You will come with us peacefully,” declared Dr. Shakespeare. “We have some questions for you.”

The first thing Kent Shakespeare noted about the villains was that they were all, to a person, hugely fat. The smallest of them easily hit four hundred pounds. Their leader called himself Mr. Wonderland, his repulsive crimson skin marking him as an alien from the planet Tartarus. His costume was as bizarre as his appearance, a Terran-style tuxedo in a patchwork of an autumn leaf motif and black-and-white checkerboard. He wore a vivid purple stove-pipe hat, and carried a large white rabbit under his left arm.

“I think not, Dr. Shakespeare,” said Mr. Wonderland. “I don’t believe it is in our best interests to go quietly.”

Chairs were pushed back from the table. The morbidly obese villains stood up. The League was outnumbered, at least two to one, but the opposing aliens were nowhere near as powerful as the heroes.

Jordana Gardner enclosed the villains, table and all, within an impenetrable green force-bubble. Mr. Wonderland’s voice echoed hollowly within.

“You missed one of us,” he said gloatingly. “My Cheshire Cat.”

The cat-like girl was not obese like her teammates, but rather as slender and lithe as, well, a cat. She appeared from nowhere, her hands on the shoulders of Rush. She moved quickly, acrobatically, bounding from Justice Leaguer to Justice Leaguer, a blur in violet and mauve stripes. Princess Xenobia almost avoided her, but the Cheshire Cat teleported, feinted, and flicked her with her tail. In seven swift moves, she had tapped or touched each of the League, then somersaulted in front of them with feline grace.

“Good-bye,” she said.

The Justice League of Earth vanished.

“Where did you send them?” asked Mr. Wonderland.

“I’m not sure,” said the Cheshire Cat. “Far. Away towards the center of the Galaxy. Somewhere. At those distances, my control isn’t very good. Some world with a breathable atmosphere, that’s all I know.”

“A breathable atmosphere?” said Mr. Wonderland, stroking the head of his great white rabbit. “That’s too bad.”


CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIVE
THE EMPIRE OF TEARS

Ysmault, towards the center of the galaxy.

They cannot live in the light.

They do not live in the darkness.

They live on the other side of the darkness.

But they often peer into our Universe.

The Seven Demonic Entities are gods. Yes, gods: of small pustulences, or banal evils, but gods, nevertheless.

The other demonic entities of Ysmault hold them in contempt. They are relegated to an small, smelly, undesirable corner of their twilight world. But at least the seven have each other.

“We have visitors,” said Zalamer.

“Did you see them?” asked Cthuchilla. “There are seven. Exactly seven.”

“And their minds are confused,” said Galgo. “They would make excellent hosts.”

“We ought to hurry,” said Gabbora, “In their own way, they seem quite powerful. We might accomplish something with hosts like that.”

“So, what do you want to do?” asked Manique.

“Same thing as always,” said Elcerebro. “Try to take over their world.”

“That old chestnut?” asked Xaltar.

“You can’t teach an old god new tricks,” said Yema.


CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SIX
AN UNEASY ALLIANCE

“The pirate ship is a complete loss,” Ten reported. “It is little more that an empty pluridium-steel box with a couple of unreliable FTL engines attached. The environmental modules are useless, except in the Psion’s laboratory. The Science Police have confiscated his work product, but I have transferred his machines to my lab, where I will examine them for function and usefulness. I was able to cannibalize sufficient material to create a custom flight-communications belt for Korvea, but there is little else…”

There was a sound of distant thunder.

“We had better get outside,” said Saturn Girl.

The Martian sky opened up above the Super-Hero Club Headquarters. Dark eldritch energies crackled as the New Justice League of Earth emerged from the space-warp. Their eyes glowed dully, like dying embers. Their heads were held at slightly uncanny angles.

“Young Legion,” called Zalamer, through Dr. Shakespeare’s mouth. “Come out! Congratulations are in order. You will be the first to have the privilege to join us, or die!”

The seven forms drifted slowly to the surface of Mars, like falling Autumn leaves, harbingers of Winter and Death. Something else else less than a hundred feet above the surface, they passed without resistance through an invisible barrier.

The Justice Leaguers fell to the ground like stones.

Near-invisible, wraith-like entities with glowing red eyes were catapulted out of their bodies, away from the clubhouse. Burning under the weak Martian sun, they quickly slithered away into the dungeon dimensions on other side of the darkness, down beyond the real universe.

The demons fled away beneath the red Martian soil, eventually finding a home in caverns beneath the Grand Marshall Hotel in New Metropolis. Like many other hotels before it, it developed a reputation for being haunted.
Hotel California Grand Hotel

The Batwoman of Pluto was first to recover. “What was that?” she asked.

“A gift,” said Saturn Girl. “From powerful friends.”

The squid-headed Batwoman sniffed the air. “There is no mana here.”

“No, so it’s good none of your powers are magically based,” said Saturn Girl. “Or are they?” She looked around at the seven Justice Leaguers.

“I have lost my sword and my shield,” said Princess Xenobia, the blood-red-armored Amazon. She glanced around, spying the two Olympian artifacts pressed up against some distant trees. There were a couple of golden sandals lying near them as well. “And my talaria,” she noted.

“We owe you a favor,” said Dr. Shakespeare.

“Then do us a favor, and leave us in peace,” said Saturn Girl. “Go back to your Hall of Justice, or satellite base, or wherever you come from.”

“We have both,” said the Devil-Fish.

By now, the rest of the Members had appeared, along with the four members ‘Super-Villain Club’. They stared curiously.

“They harbor the turncoats,” said the Cyborg Manhunter. “The blood-traitors to Terra.”

“These college students have had their education interrupted by your interference,” said Saturn Girl, “And are here by the order of the Court, as you well know. You will have your time with them before a judge on Earth, when they are brought up on the false charges you have made against them. Until then... “

“We will leave you in peace, for now,” said Dr. Shakespeare. He turned to his six associates. “Princess, gather your things, and let us return to Earth.”

“Perhaps,” said the Batwoman, fluttering her great wings slightly, “We might ask these self-proclaimed Super-Heroes another... favor... for us. They might be helpful against Mr. Wonderland and his organization. I am… impressed with their resources.” She glanced meaningfully at Princess Xenobia’s discarded equipment.

“And we should help you because…?” asked Saturn Girl.

“Because the Justice League would be in your debt a second time,” said Dr. Shakespeare.

“And because you believe in Justice,” said Jordana Gardner, her ring flashing.

“Do not trust them,” said the Cyborg Manhunter. “They will betray us.”

“I don’t know…” said Dr. Shakespeare. He glanced at the Batwoman of Pluto.

There was too much mutual distrust between the two teams for there to be any agreement. The Justice League went back to Earth.

But it was not three days before they called again with the same offer.

“But you already have a telepath,” Star-Woman reminded them.

“Yes, but not a Saturnian telepath,” said Dr. Shakespeare. “The Batwoman’s mental powers can be somewhat invasive and… obvious. We need a more subtle touch. We need intelligence. We walked into a situation we did not understand. It ended badly. It could have been worse.”

“Is this just another group of harmless aliens you wish to banish from Earth?” asked Star-Woman. “That really isn’t our cup of tea.”

Dr. Shakespeare posted an SP file on the viewscreen.

“This is what we know,” said Dr. Shakespeare. “Mr. Wonderland is from Tartarus, a world where there is no crime, because there is no law. He was a successful… ‘businessman’. Very successful, by that world’s standards. Until a cabal of other ‘businessmen’ conspired to take him down. He fled Tartarus in fear of his life. But Earth has one of the most prosperous economies in the United Planets. He felt he could re-establish his businesses here: racketeering, extortion, blackmail, assassination; that sort of thing. He has been recruiting lieutenants-- we don’t know very much about him. This Cheshire Cat was a complete surprise. These criminal organizations have been nearly annihilated on Earth, but new ones keep cropping up. Surely this is more your ‘cup of tea’.”

In a quick council, the rest of the Members agreed. Still, they preferred to meet at the Clubhouse, rather than on Earth.

“We found their offices in Londonopolis, in the Oxford area,” the Batwoman explained. We suspect they must have a larger retreat nearby, but have been unable to find it.”

“I will see what I can do,” said Saturn Girl. “Dacey, I’m going to need you as an anchor.”

The astral form of Dorrit Ranzz slipped out of her body, focusing on the small blue orb in the Martian sky. Instantly, she was on Earth. It took only a moment’s orientation to move to the Oxford area of Londonopolis. She scanned the minds around her quietly, the thoughts of ‘Mr. Wonderland’, and ‘Tartarus’, leading her to an expensive hotel called the Oxford Castle Estates.

She dropped through a ceiling. There was an enormously fat man, heavily bearded, and dressed all in red. He was snoring loudly, lying above the covers: about six centimeters above, for he floated in mid-air.

“The Red King,” she whispered aloud. “I’m afraid we won’t get much information out of him. Yes, I know you’re there, Batwoman. You may have the power to cloud minds, but the psychic energy it burns shines like a candle in the dark.”

The Batwoman appeared before her. Her black, bat-like ears and large, black, bat-like wings blended perfectly with her black body-armor, although Dorrit knew the ears and wings were part of her body. She was too black to blend into the dark gray light of the hotel room, dimly lit with a night-light. Her pink, squiddy head floated above the blackness.

“<We could probe deeper,>” thought the Batwoman at her.

“<I thought that stealth was at a premium,>” Saturn Girl thought back. “<Besides, he does not appear to be entirely in touch with reality. We need to find someone else>.”

Saturn Girl’s astral form drifted through a wall. An equally fat, pale woman lay asleep under a heavy down comforter. “<The Duchess>,” thought Saturn Girl. “<This is more like it. She is one of Mr. Wonderland’s more trusted associates.>”

“<Who would have thought they would be using a luxury hotel as a base?>” thought the Batwoman. “<Do you have what we need?>”

“<If you could teleport here so easily, why did you need me?>” thought Saturn Girl.

“<I require a… target of some kind. A point of focus.>” thought the Batwoman. “<Your unique mind filled just such a requirement.>” thought the Batwoman. “<Intriguing. You and your sister share a link which I cannot penetrate>.”

“<Where I come from,>” thought Saturn Girl, “It is impolite to probe another’s mind without their permission.”

“<Yet I am sure that you have done so yourself, more than once>,” thought the Batwoman.

“<But those were enemies,>” thought Saturn Girl. “<I’m not your enemy>.”

“<We shall see,>” the Batwoman thought back.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SEVEN
WONDERLAND, WITHOUT ALICE

“The Duchess,” Saturn Girl explained, “Is from some place called Somathur. She is immune to all diseases, but is a carrier for every one she has been exposed to. And she has made sure to expose herself to many. One breathe, and you could come down with a hundred different random illnesses from across the Galaxy. That’s why she wears that rebreather, day and night. To protect her comrades.”

“There was a member of the old Legion of Substitute Heroes that had powers similar to that,” said Shrinking Violet. “But no one knows whatever happened to her.”

“This is Father William,” she said, pointing at the projection from the Green Lantern’s power ring, “Despite his age and rotundity, he is an expert acrobat. He seems to drain strength and youth from others to fund that agility.”

“This is Tweedle, a young Janusite. Two heads, nothing more.”

“This bovinoid is called the Mock Turtle. It has some sort of sonic powers.”

“The huge, slug-like thing is called Professor Caterpillar. It is able to change its size, either to grow or to shrink.”

“Here’s a recognizable name: Hector Niwtyn-LaFeaugh, son of Tusker and Eyeful Ethel of the old Legion of Super-Villains. Unlike his father, his tusks point down, rather that up. Like his father, he has an unbreakable skeleton. They call him The Walrus.”

“His parents reformed; they were founding members of the Justice League of Earth,” the Cyborg Manhunter commented. “It is sad to see him go bad.”

Saturn Girl shook her head. “This is The Gryphon, a chicken-headed, lion-bodied, winged alien. It also breathes fire, so watch your step.”

“And this blobby thing is a shapeshifter from Planet Hagen. They call him The Pudding.”

“They’re called Clayfaces,” said Dr. Shakespeare.

“Actually, that is considered an insulting and derogatory term,” said Chameleon.

“I know,” said Dr. Shakespeare.

“You know the Cheshire Cat. Then there is a mysterious member that the Duchess has never seen, called The Carpenter, some sort of technological wizard. This armored creature is The White Knight, a powerful robot of his creation. He also provides them other technology .”

“And this is the most dangerous of all, at least according to The Duchess’ mind. The Red King - he is in some sort of coma due to a bizarre accident. He used to be a renowned physicist, specializing in quantum probability. On the rare occasions he awakes, his dreams momentarily become reality. The effect is localized, and temporary… although the Duchess fears that over time, they are merely forgetting what the old reality looked like.” She shuddered.

“He has been very careful in recruiting his people,” said Dr. Shakespeare. “There is obviously some overall plan, but we just can’t see it. Aside from the fact that most of them seem morbidly obese. His group seems just a random assortment of strange individuals with odd powers.”

Saturn Girl gaped. “Didn’t your mother ever read fairy tales to you?” Dr. Shakespeare seemed puzzled by the question. “None of you?” she addressed the rest of the League.

“Grimm, Andersen, Perrault, Dodgson, Baum, L’Engle?” added Matter-Eater Lad Two, helpfully.

The League looked nonplussed.

Saturn Girl sighed. “These recruits are all themed based on characters in Dodgson’s Fairy Tales,” she explained. “One of his Tales is even called ‘Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland’. That’s where the ‘Mr. Wonderland’ identity comes from.”

“Is this helpful?” asked the Batwoman. “To know the pattern is based on a children’s book.”

“It means they’re nuts,” said Matter-Eater Lad Two. “Insane, crazy, bonkers, ‘round the bend. ‘We’re all mad here’. That’s from the book.”

“I don’t think they’re actually mentally ill,” said Saturn Girl. “At least, not all of them. But I would expect a certain… unpredictability… in dealing with them. Mr. Wonderland’s goal, especially, may not be completely rational.”

“We will need some time to formulate a plan of attack,” said Star-Woman.

“I agree,” said Dr. Shakespeare. “And to find a place to confront them where it will be to our greatest advantage.”

“One more thing,” said Saturn Girl. “The Carpenter has created some sort of mind-control device. Not all of the ‘lieutenants’ are there voluntarily. We should be able to tell easily: the device is an obvious sort of circlet around their heads.”

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED EIGHT
VS. WONDERLAND

Jordana Gardner, Green Lantern of Sector 2814, set the dozen plus-sized stasis units she was carrying out outside the Oxford Castle Estates Luxury Hotel. The Wonderland Syndicate were caught in the act of heading toward their cars. She power-ringed a force-bubble around the super-infectious Duchess.

Another green beam shone from the Cyborg Manhunter’s square lantern. It played over the nine-foot-tall White Knight robot.

“I shall shed my light over dark evil, for the dark things cannot stand the light,” she intoned. “It’s remote controlled,” she announced. “And I’ve found the controller.” she soared away into the sky.

Cosmic Boy and Lightning Lad moved in to take her place. With their powers, it was only a matter of time before the giant robot was disassembled.

The Triplicate Girls closed in on Tweedle. They were wearing mind-controlling circlets around their two heads. They proved difficult to remove, as they were braced with spikes entering the skull.

The Pudding was a muddy, gray-brown mass of dense protoplasm, six feet tall and six feet around. Chameleon, in his blue chainmail costume, was the obvious one to confront him. Chameleon’s initial attempts at punching were futile; it was like punching mud. The Durlan assumed the largest form he could think of: a Ganesagarian, towering over The Pudding. The Hagenite just chuckled, a thick, suety laugh. It began to puddle, creeping up Chameleon’s ankles, calves, and thighs, eventually covering him completely in a clay-like mass. Then it started to compress, resuming its original form. Chameleon seemed trapped inside, until he shot out as an orange-gold, burrowing snake.

“You forgot your super-costume,” The Pudding laughed again. Indeed, Chameleon had re-formed in nude, androgynous shape.

“Oh, right, my super-costume,” said Chameleon. “My semi-telepathic martian Zo’Ok pet, as nigh-invulnerable as any martian life-form.” Midnight-blue scales were beginning to form on The Pudding’s ‘skin’. Soon, The Pudding who was coated with the blue armor. It shot out spikes of resistance, but was unable to penetrate the alien plant The Zo’Ok continued to compress, until it was a perfect sphere, The Pudding trapped helplessly inside.

“Good work, my little friend,” said Chameleon. “We make a great team.”

Rush had a single target: the Cheshire Cat. She had entered the battle, her speed-inhibiting bracelets off. Her opponents and companions seemed nearly frozen. She spied the Cheshire Cat, who was wearing one of the mind-control circlets.

“This should be easy,” thought Rush. But she underestimated the cat-girl’s reaction time. Before she could remove circlet, the Cheshire Cat had teleported. Rush searched the area, and located her target again. This time she came up from behind, and vibrated the circlet into intangibility. A glazed look came into the cat-girl’s eyes, and she began to collapse in slow motion.

The Mock Turtle looked like a rotund minotaur in tortoiseshell-patterned armor. His bellows were loud enough to create shock waves, more powerful than sonic booms. Devil-Fish, however, used to the massive pressure gradients at the bottom of the ocean, was unaffected. The amphibian-man attacked with a frog-like leap. He landed a blow that staggered the Mock Turtle, but did not take him down. The fight continued.

Phantom Girl and Shrinking Violet took on Professor Caterpillar. The large, slug-like alien grew even larger, towering fifty feet high. His trailing hindquarters took up an additional fifty feet of length.

“Think you can shrink him down?” asked Phantom Girl.

“I don’t think I need to,” said Shrinking Violet. “He’s wearing a mind-control circlet, too. We just have to convince him to take it off.” Her flight belt propelled her up into the air; she landed on the crown of the creature’s head. She grasped the circlet tight, and shrank-- not far, the circlet was too large for her to affect much, but it tightened around the molluscoid head. Professor Caterpillar instinctively shrunk himself, in order to ease the pressure on his brain. But Shrinking Violet maintained the same relative size, and the circlet shrunk as well. After a few moments, Professor Caterpillar was slightly below his natural size. Shrinking Violet released the circlet: it returned to normal size for a moment, coming loose from the alien’s head. She shot up to full size, and grabbed it, holding it aloft like a trophy. Professor Caterpillar clutched his head.

“Thank you,” he said.

The Walrus was not mind-controlled. Matter-Eater Lad Two flitted around him like Peter Pan around Captain Hook.

“You know, Hector, the Justice League have quite a high opinion of your parents,” said Matter-Eater Lad Two. “Your choice of a criminal career is something of a disappointment to them. Why don’t you just peacefully climb into one of those stasis chambers? I’m sure they will treat you with special deference.”

“Shut up,” said the Walrus. He tossed his head back, and two elongated tusks flashed at Matter-Eater Lad Two.

“Wow,” said Matter-Eater Lad Two, easily dodging the enlarged incisor. “You can’t aim and shoot at the same time. How useful are those tusks, anyway? Did I mention I’m Bismollian? I could perform a dental extraction the hard way.”

“My tuthkth are unbreakable,” said the Walrus. “Jutht like my father. And my thkeleton ith jutht ath indethtructible. You have no chanthe againtht me.” He swung a massive fist that missed as well.

“Oh, wow,” said Matter-Eater Lad Two. “A speech impediment as well. No wonder you turned to crime.” The flying Bismollian dashed in close for a moment, and bit off a tusk, quite near the root. The Walrus dropped to his knees in pain, eyes watering. Matter-Eater Lad Two held the three-inch tusk in his hand. “Did I mention, super-fast biting? Believe me, I’m doing you a favor. I’m sure the dentists at whatever correctional facility you end up at can take out the other one, too.”

The Walrus got up, seething with rage. He threw his head back again, shooting out another elongated tusk at Matter-Eater Lad Two, this time sweeping the air in front of him.

“Wow, another miss,” said Matter-Eater Lad Two, hovering above his opponent’s head. “Have you had any practice at this super-villain stuff?”

Star-Woman was not having such an easy time with the bouncing Father William. He seemed to be gaining energy and vitality the longer they fought, moving faster and bouncing higher, nearly flying. Lightning Lass and Cosmic Boy had finished with the White Knight robot, and had come to help.

“I think he’s absorbing bio-energy,” said Star-Woman to Lightning Lass. “Maybe the two of us can overload him.” Star-Woman focused her electro-vision on fat old man; Lightning Lass blasted him with thunderbolts.

“It’s like a warm bath,” said Father William, caroming at Lightning Lass. She barely dodged him. He unleashed a bolt of electrical energy from behind; Cosmic Boy deflected the bolt with a magnetic shield.

“He’s duplicating our powers,” said Lightning Lass.

“No, I think he’s just shedding excess energy,” said Star-Woman. “He must be nearing his limit.” On his next path, she hit him with flame breath.

“Now you’ve singed my suit,” said Father William. His next bounce took him straight into and impace with Star-Woman. He grabbed her head with both hands. “Nowhere near my limit,” he said. Star-Woman felt life-energy draining out through her ears. She tore away from the old man, staggered.

“We need to get him into one of those containment units before he gets too strong,” said Star-Woman.

“If we had enough scrap iron... “ said Cosmic Boy.

Star-Woman flew straight down, burrowing into the ground. Moments later, she re-appeared, tossing up a huge boulder. “Iron ore,” she explained.

Cosmic Boy’s magnetic powers wrapped the iron around Father William, while the three super-heroes kept far away. The iron ball dropped from the sky. It lay on the ground, still… then shattered.

“You misunderestimate me,” said Father William.

Korvea and Polar Lass battled the flame-breathing Gryphon with darkness and cold. Polar Lass was using her flight belt, but Korvea had grown wings. So far, it had been a stalemate. Polar Lass was able to stanch the flames, and Korvea was able to blind the lion-bird, but they had not been able to come near capturing him.

“Look, in the feathers on top of his head,” said Korvea. “Is that a mind-control circlet?”

“You have better eyes than I do,” said Polar Lass. “Blind him again, and let me try to get behind him.”

Polar Lass concentrated her frost power on the golden metal shining beneath The Gryphon’s feathers. There was a *crack*, and the metal circlet split in two. The Gryphon plunged toward Earth. They were quite high up; Korvea changed to giant bird-form to slow his descent. Polar Lass was able to reach the duo before they hit the ground, and used her flight belt to slow them down further. It was not a graceful landing, but there were, at least, no injuries.

Dr. Shakespeare took on Mr. Wonderland directly. The red-skinned Tartaran seemed amused. He took off his purple top-hat, revealing twin, black goat-horns. Black beams shot from them, and Dr. Shakespeare vanished.

“No!” screamed Princess Xenobia, flying at Mr. Wonderland. Phantom Girl intercepted her in the air.

“He’s all right,” said Phantom Girl. “He’s not dead. He was just projected into some sort of pocket dimension. I’m sure I can get him out. Just keep Mr. Wonderland occupied.” She vanished, falling into the Phantom Zone.

From the outside, the pocket dimension resembled a sphere of thick, tangled, sticky vines. Unable to phase through, Phantom Girl pulled them apart with her hands. It was bigger on the inside than it appeared on the outside.

Dr. Shakespeare was sitting in a chair carved of red stone, beneath a tree of red leaves, with red pear-like fruit growing on the boughs.

“Do you think they’re edible?” he asked. “I’ve been here nearly a day, with nothing to eat.”

“It’s only been moments outside,” said Phantom Girl. “Let’s get you out of here.”

“How?” said Dr. Shakespeare. “I’ve already walked for miles. There seems no end to this place.” He pointed at the sky. “That red dodecahedron is the ‘sun’ that illuminates this world. It also saps my powers.”

Princess Xenobia suddenly appeared out of nowhere. She was holding a badly damaged, mechanical rabbit.

“It’s a robot with laser-vision,” she explained. “That one he always kept under his arm. I wasn’t able to dodge them both.”

“So Mr. Wonderland’s pretty dangerous,” said Phantom Girl. “Even if his appearance is slightly ridiculous. I think I can take you both out of here at once. Hold onto my hands.” A strange portal opened in the air, seemingly surrounded by thick, tangled, sticky vines. The three were drawn through, then fell from the Phantom Zone back to Earth.

The Cheshire Cat, the Gryphon, and Professor Caterpillar had gathered at some distance from the center of the battle. Rush, Polar Lass, Korvea, and Shrinking Violet were protecting them.

The Gryphon blinked its chicken-like eyes. “Should we go back and help?” he asked.

“They have a plan,” said Korvea. “Let’s let them work it.”

“Well, I’m getting out of here,” said the Cheshire Cat. Suddenly, the group of seven was… somewhere else.

“What did you do?” asked Rush. “Where are we?”

“Downtown Metropolis,” said the Cheshire Cat. “Six-point-seven megameters away from Oxford. Safe.”

“Oh, grife,” said Rush. “Keep an eye on them, will you? I need to get back.” She took off in a rush.

“Look,” said Shrinking Violet. “Once the rest of the Wonderland Syndicate is rounded up, it would be really helpful you would testify.”

“I assume you have no love for Mr. Wonderland and his associates,” said Korvea.

“Fear is a better word,” said the Cheshire Cat. “Abject terror. What happened to Tweedle?”

“The last I saw, the Triplicates had managed to get one circlet off, and the two heads were fighting each other,” said Shrinking Violet. “Otherwise, we would have pulled him… them… out of the battle as well.”

“I just want to be sent home,” said the Gryphon.

“Where is home?” Shrinking Violet inquired.

“My world is not a member of the United Planets,” said the Gryphon. “We have had some contact. You call our world Gallus, but we call it Kikirikiri.”

“My world’s oceans were colonized by the Gil’Dishpan long ago,” said Professor Caterpillar. “Our world has been known as Gildan-7 for at least fifty generations of my people.” His torso was almost human, above his visceral mass, but his head was quite insectoid. Shrinking Violet marvelled that he could enunciate so well.

“You’ll all be sent home, I’m sure,” said Polar Lass. “The Terran courts may just have you swear testimony, and then let you go your way. And we will keep an eye on things, to make sure you are well-treated.”

“We will do our best,” said Korvea. Shrinking Violet thought she detected some hesitation in her voice.

When Rush returned from her trip across the sea, Star-Woman, Lightning Lass, and Cosmic Boy were still trying to get Father William under control. The Mock Turtle and Devil-Fish were in a standoff, as were The Walrus and Matter-Eater Lad Two.

The Green Lantern still struggled to get the resisting Duchess into a stasis chamber; only The Pudding had been safely stowed away so far.

The White Knight Robot lay in pieces. The Cyborg Manhunter was returning with a tall, slender man with wildly unkempt white hair, wearing a pleather apron with many pockets.

“The Carpenter,” she announced. “I traced the White Knight Robot’s signal to Aberdeen.” As she landed, the Carpenter slipped a device no longer than a fountain pen into his hand. He pointed it at the Cyborg Manhunter, and she collapsed.

The Carpenter targeted the next closest hero, which happened to be Ten. He triggered the device again, but there was only a faint crackling around Ten’s force-field.

Vesta, Ten’s robotic nanny, grabbed the device from the Carpenter with a short-range tractor beam, and dropped it into Ten’s waiting hand.

“Interesting…” said Ten. “A good attempt at making an actual Sonic Screwdriver. I have something similar.” He pulled a small box, about an inch square and half an inch deep, with a large red button on it. “I call it a ‘Panic Button’.” He depressed the stud, and energy crackled all around the Carpenter, as his hidden tech was rendered inoperative. “I don’t suppose you want to surrender?”

But Rush had already grabbed the helpless Carpenter, and locked him in a stasis chamber.

“Father William absorbs bio-energy,” Star-Woman cried. “Of all kinds. But let’s see how he reacts to concentrated stellar energy.” He drew the Star-Rod from its holster. The blast seemed to stagger Father William, but he swiftly bounced back-- bounced right up, and into Star-Woman. In the confusion of the impact, Father William grabbed the Star-Rod.

“You actually hurt me,” he said. “Now let’s see what this little gizmo will do to you.” He fumbled with the rod, but did not seem able to activate it.

Elsewhere, Phantom Girl had returned with Dr. Shakespeare and Princess Xenobia, and they were closing on Mr. Wonderland. But the Syndicate leader had moved over next to the floating bed on which lay The Red King.

“We need you, King,” he muttered, pulling out a hypo-spray, and injecting the sleeping figure.

The world changed.

Eight members of the Wonderland Syndicate: Mr. Wonderland, The Duchess, Father William, The Mock Turtle, The Walrus, The Pudding and The Carpenter stood confined in the isolation chambers. Even the White Knight Robot had been re-assembled, and stood quietly in stasis.

Tweedle’s second mind-control circlet had been removed. The Red King stood blinking at the setting sun.

“Professor Carroll,” Saturn Girl addressed The Red King. “Are you ready to return to the Institute?”

“Absolutely, absolutely,” said the little red-clad man. “I had the strangest dream: I was kidnapped by super-villains, and rescued by super-heroes.”

“Yes, the Saturnian and I were guiding your dreams,” said the Batwoman.

“My, you are an odd one, aren’t you?” said The Red King. “Sometimes, it’s hard to tell dreams from waking life. Of course, when one spends as much time asleep as I do…”

“We’ll take care of you, sir,” said Saturn Girl. “And make sure you get back to New Titan”

There was quite a lot of cleanup to do, despite the easiness of the victory.

After it was all over, Saturn Girl approached the Batwoman.

“I’m sorry, I have no time to talk,” said the Batwoman. “I really must leave. There is a circuit on the Justice League Satellite that is calling me.”

“I’m sure,” said Saturn Girl. “I just wanted you to know, I’ve caught you probing my mind from time to time during this Adventure. Find anything interesting?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said the Batwoman.

“If you want to know something, just ask,” said Saturn Girl. “We have very few secrets here. And probing another’s mind without permission is rude. You haven’t caught me deep-probing your mind, trying to search out your secrets, have I?”

“No,” the Batwoman admitted.

“Then perhaps we are not enemies after all?” said Saturn Girl.

“Perhaps.” The squid-like face was inscrutable.

“You still remind me of the Star-Spawn.”

“What Star-Spawn?”

“The Star-Spawn with the Power.”

“What Power?”

“The Power of Cthulhu.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” said the Batwoman.

Saturn Girl shrugged. “Well, safe journey to your satellite. Good-bye, Acchabhalla.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” said the Batwoman.

“No?” said Saturn Girl. “I thought she was standing right here, just a minute ago.”

“You know,” said the Batwoman, “If you would only smile more often… you would be terrifying.”

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED NINE
CAT TALE

“I can no longer stay on Earth,” said the cat-faced girl. “I was hoping you could suggest another world… somewhere I could live a peaceful, untroubled life.”

“Karna and Tamaran are felinoid worlds, out in the Vega system,” Shrinking Violet suggested.

“A number of worlds belong to the Cat Hegemony, out in the general direction of Procyon,” said Ten. “Although one is a world of mostly super-powered giants.”

“The Kzin Worlds lie on the other side of the Khundish Empire,” said Saturn Girl, “although they are not exactly peaceful.”

“It doesn’t really need to be people who look like me,” said the cat-girl. “Just somewhere comfortable, with a warm sun. Or people aren’t very gregarious, anyway.”

“Who are your people?” asked Phantom Girl. “And can you not go back home?”

“We are from the star you call Alsciaukat,” replied the cat-girl, “But which my people call Arau. I was infected by an Antipath Phage, and…”

“Really?” Ten perked up. “How long ago?”

“Oh, it’s been close to a year now, your time,” said the cat-girl

“Fascinating,” said Ten. “How have you managed to survive so long?”

“Wait a minute,” said Polar Lass. “What is… Antipath Phage? I’ve never heard of it. Is it contagious?”

“A giant, space-faring virus,” Ten explained. “About as big as your fist. It attaches itself to a host, injects RNA, and dies. The host then splits into two identical duplicates, indistinguishable in any way from the original, except for an intense hatred for each other. Usually, one duplicate murders the other in a very short time; then, as the corpse composts, new Phages develop, and fly off into space, seeking new hosts.”

“That’s horrible!” exclaimed Polar Lass.

“Yeah, it pretty much is,” said the cat-girl. “But we were able to keep our anger under control until we devised to arrange a disparity between us. My replicant agreed to remain on Arau forever, and I agreed to leave, and never return. Of course, I still experience terrible paranoia that she has somehow followed me, and an almost overwhelming desire to go back to Arau and eliminate her… but I have managed to learn to live with it, and as long as I am able to keep my feelings in check, I trust that she is able to as well.”

“Impressive,” said Ten. “I have never heard of anyone overcoming an Antipath infection through the application of free will.”

“My teleportative powers helped immensely,” said the cat-girl. “I was able to leave my replicant behind immediately, and travel far into space on my own power. When my paranoia overwhelms me, I can teleport away again. It has even given me a new identity-- although I resist Mr. Wonderland’s childish appellation of “The Cheshire Cat”, I have decided to call myself Tesser Cat, because my powers involve folding space in order to teleport. You can call me Tesser.”

“Tesser,” said Ffiona, “You might very much like the Pacht worlds. Peaceful, technology at least as advanced as Earth or Xanthu. And somewhat isolated.”

“Thank you, you have given me some good ideas,” said the Tesser Cat. “I think I’ll pop around Mars for awhile, see the sights, and then leave the Sol System behind.”


CHAPTER VI
PIG AND PEPPER

She was a little startled by seeing the Cheshire Cat sitting on a bough of a tree a few yards off.

The Cat only grinned when it saw Alice. It looked goodnatured, she thought : still it had very long claws and a great many teeth, so she felt it ought to be treated with respect.

“Cheshire Puss,” she began, rather timidly, as she did not at all know whether it would
like the name : however, it only grinned a little wider. “Come, it ’s pleased so far,” thought
Alice, and she went on, “Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to walk from here ?”

“That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,” said the Cat.

“I don’t much care where——” said Alice.

“Then it doesn’t matter which way you walk,” said the Cat.

“ ——so long as I get somewhere,” Alice added as an explanation.

“Oh, you’re sure to do that,” said the Cat, “if you only walk long enough.”

Alice felt that this could not be denied, so she tried another question. “What sort of people live about here ?”

“In that direction,” the Cat said, waving its right paw round, “ lives a Hatter : and in that direction,” waving the other paw, “lives a March Hare. Visit either you like : they ’re both mad.”

“But I don’t want to go among mad people,” Alice remarked.

“Oh, you can’t help that,” said the Cat: “we’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad.”

“How do you know I’m mad ?” said Alice.

“You must be,” said the Cat, “ or you wouldn’t have come here.”

Alice didn’t think that proved it at all; however, she went on: “And how do you know that you’re mad?”

“To begin with,” said the Cat, “ a dog’s not mad. You grant that ?”

“I suppose so,” said Alice.

“Well, then,” the Cat went on, “you see a dog growls when it’s angry, and wags its tail when it ’s
pleased. Now I growl when I’m pleased, and wag my tail when I’m angry. Therefore I’m mad.”

“I call it purring, not growling,” said Alice.

“Call it what you like,” said the Cat. “Do you play croquet with the Queen to day?”

“I should like it very much,” said Alice, “but I haven’t been invited yet.”

“You ’ll see me there,” said the Cat, and vanished.

Alice was not much surprised at this, she was getting so used to queer things happening. While she was looking at the place where it had been, it suddenly appeared again.

“By-the-bye, what became of the baby?” said the Cat. “I’d nearly forgotten to ask.”

“It turned into a pig,” Alice answered very quietly, just as if the Cat had come back in a natural way.

“I thought it would,” said the Cat, and vanished again.

Alice waited a little, half expecting to see it again, but it did not appear, and after a minute or two she walked on in the direction in which the March Hare was said to live.

She looked up, and there was the Cat again, sitting on a branch of a tree.

“Did you say pig, or fig ?” said the Cat.

“I said pig,” replied Alice; “ and I wish you wouldn’t keep appearing and vanishing so suddenly:
you make one quite giddy.”

“All right,” said the Cat; and this time it vanished quite slowly, beginning with the end of
the tail, and ending with the grin, which remained some time after the rest of it had gone.

“Well ! I’ve often seen a cat without a grin,” thought Alice ; “ but a grin without a cat ! It’s the most curious thing I ever saw in all my life !”

(

“It was brillig again, but this time it was the mome raths that were mimsy.”

I like the way magic and fairy tales are so integrated in this universe. It's as if the effects of the Magic Wars persisted and just became accepted by everyone as normal - or as normal as magic can be. It must be how are ancestors lived (without the spaceships, of course). I remember my mother's books of Grimm and AnNderson fairy tales - must have been published in the1920's - stories like The Girl Who Trod on a Loaf, everyday life, with demons when you step out of line.

Brainy calls on Jenny Dark without snide remarks (perhaps he's just getting mellow as he ages). And who's more mellow than Jo Nah, doing what he enjoys and at ease with life; Tinya hasn't fared so well, but her PTSD explains why they didn't settle on Rimbor. It's good to see the parents around, but not overly interfering.

As I wrote in your profiles thread, I find the kids in the Villains group a charming addition to the world of these young achievers and wonder what you have in store for them. Maybe they'll just be a reminder that not everyone wants to play hero or serve as the Chorus for the ongoing narrative.

Star-Woman's a fine character for your get-out-of-jail card. She isn't overpowering the action here, but has lots of tricks to pull out when needed. And Tesser Cat is a great invention!

BTW edit: Any prospects for a Super-Hero Club Cookbook?

You know that story where the main protagonists just can't seem to get the job done, but then the second-stringers step up, show unexpected grit, and save the day?
This isn't that story.
However, I do promise a punchline in about ten or twenty chapters.



Food has always been an important part of my life.
Unfortunatelu, I cannot tell you the recipe for Coluan Nutritive Paste, or where to buy Kathooni Black Honey, but here is a recipe for the 21st-century version of Meatmelon.

I love the Wonderland Syndicate

Tweedle as a Janusian is perfect, and Tesser's backstory is a great bit of worldbuilding and potential plot seeding. I also liked the interplay between Saturn Girl and Batwoman.