Legion World Forums LEGION OUTPOST Bits o' Legionnaire Business Young Legion Book 2

This item from New Scientist (22 September) on "Elf Commissioners" sounds like something out of your Earth-K2:

Highway officials in Germany, who pride themselves on being open-minded and supporting all citizens, have really outdone themselves. Their latest idea is to hire "elf commissioners" to improve safety on a notorious stretch of road. The A2 autobahn outside Hanover sees five accidents a day, on average, something concerned citizen Melanie Ruter suggested was the result of trolls and elves disturbed by traffic noise.

The Hanoversche Allgemeine newspaper reports that Ruter and "animal communicator" Marion Lindhof accompanied an official from the highway authority for a routine check of perimeter fences. They noted "very sad energies"emanating from several points of the motorway - drivers will know the feeling.

Tuter asked the elves to look kindly on travelers, while Lindhof apologised to local boars. They then declared that the psychic wounds had been "energetically sealed".

Ruter says her methods will prove effective, and is calling for the government to establish an official elf commissioner, someone whose job it is to be away with the fairies in a professional capacity. German news site The Local notes that soon after the blessing, a nearby collision between two lorries left one driver with life-threatening injuries.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TEN
A BRIEF HISTORY

From the Sol system, gaze upwards towards the constellation Mensa. Although not visible to the human eye, there is an unusual star there.
It is an enfolded binary: a low-density blue giant, with a yellow dwarf enclosed in its center.

From a distance, the star appears a bright greenish color.

This is Yod, the 'sun', or stellar primary, of the planet Bryak. In the Yoddish language, the planet's name means 'our home'.

Hundreds of millions of years ago, the merger of these two stars into one resulted in gravitational chaos for the planets in this system, which is still in evidence today.
Bryak, for example, has been knocked on its side, with an axial tilt of nearly 90°. Therefore, 'day' and 'night' on the planet each last half a planetary year, in any particular location.

As Bryak's distant orbit makes its year the equivalent of just over sixteen Earth years, the day and night last some eight years each.
Two races of intelligent, sentient, sapient beings have evolved on Bryak.

The Yoddu clans, or 'day-beings', were small, slender, green-skinned humanoids.

They were migratory. When the sun began to fall low on the horizon, the last of their clans would abandon their cities, let their fields fall fallow, lock up their houses, and moved on to a brighter, more sun-lit portion of the planet.

The Yäbbu tribes, or 'night-beings', lived in perpetual darkness. Purple-skinned, semi-bipedal behemoths with enormous luninous azure eyes, they were likewise nomadic, moving around the planet in order to keep forever within the shadow of night.

Bryak is a small, dense world, with a diameter less than half that of Earth. Moving at an average speed of only a football field per hour, or a couple of hundred kilometers per month, was enough to allow the Yoddu and Yäbbu to travel 'round their world once each sixteen-earth-year-long day/night cycle, never seeing one another.

The rough Yäbbu left behind only coarse, fallen lean-tos, gnawed animal bones, and simple stone tools.

The more delicate Yoddu built great cities and pleasant fields, which were inhabited successively by the various clans as they traveled across the single globe-girdling continent.

One clan would sow, another would tend, a third would harvest, and thus, through sequential cooperation, agriculture and civilization flourished among the Yoddu. One clan would leave behind journals of their history for others to read and study, and knowledge and discovery flowed from one clan to another.

After circumnavigating their globe with the day, the first of the Yoddu clans would return to their cities and fields, abandoned now for eight Earth-years. Often, they would discover extensive vandalism by the brutal, careless Yäbbu barbarian nomads. The Yäbbu had no use for the small, pleasant dwellings or farms and fields, but seemed to take pleasure in wrecking those they found.

The work of rebuilding would commence.

This continued for untold millennia. The Yoddu civilization grew, progressed, and prospered. The savage, stagnant Yäbbu did not.

As Yoddu civiliazation became more exalted and refined, and more dependent upon delicate mechanical devices, rebuilding after the wanton night-time destruction of the Yäbbu tribes became more expensive.

A cold war of sorts developed between the Yoddu and the Yäbbu.

The Yoddu would build walls, moats, and fortifications around their cities and farms. The Yäbbu would destroy them. Perhaps not immediately but eventually,

The Yäbbu depredations initially seemed mindless. Then they began to appear purposeful. The most essential parts of the city were attacked first: waterways, power stations, and communication outposts. When they destroyed buildings, the tallest would always be the first to go, toppling and crushing the smaller ones. Fields and farmlands were often salted or poisoned, for no good reason.

As the technology of the Yoddu advanced, many years would go by before the Yäbbu could breach the increasingly sophisticated protections. But every generation (the Yoddu were particularly long-lived) experienced some disasterous destruction of property from the 'night beings'.

Technology continued its progress. Robot sentries were left behind to guard the silent, darkened cities through the long night. The Yäbbu were at first afraid of these creations, but in time these cybernetic guards became a favorite target of the marauding hordes.

Ambassadors were sent into the long night from the Yoddu to the Yäbbu, to negotiate treaties of peace, and a cessation of hostilities. None ever returned.

At last, somewhat less than nine thousand years ago, a 'final solution' was proposed. A number of cryogenic space-arks were constructed. A habitable world-- tidally locked, one side forever in darkness, and orbiting a small, red-orange, M-type star-- was identified.

Regiments of night-hunting soldiers and robots were sent out into the dark lands. Eventually, the entire population of the Yäbbu were captured, loaded onto ships, placed in cryo-sleep, transported to their new world, and then released.

It was the work of ten generations. In Terran terms, about five thousand years. At last the resettlement was complete. Not a single Yäbbu remained on Bryak.
The Yoddu called the new world Yäbbugar, using Interlac conventions. In the Yoddish language, it was called Brycedyt, or 'Home of the Exiles'.

On Earth, Solomon's temple was beginning construction. It is the Song dynasty in China. Chichen Itza has become a regional capital in the Mayan Empire.
Alone on their world now, the Yoddu began to refer to themselves as 'Colu', or 'beings of the planet'. The people of Earth, and most of the rest of the United Planets, call them 'Coluans'. Bryak itself takes on the interlac name 'Coluangar', often shortened to 'Colu', thus conflating the planet with its people.
Freed by technology, the entire planet is permanently illuminated, and the Coluans no longer migrate from city to city.

Their centuries of desperate struggles against the Yäbbu ended, in an age of abundance, the Coluans dedicate themselves to the pursuit of pure knowledge.
But there is one piece of knowledge which is not found on Colu. Where is Brycedyt, or Yäbbugar, located? Which of all the thousands of red-orange stars in Colu's vicinity is the Star of the Exiles?

No one knows.

It is forgotten, but not hidden, nor forbidden, knowledge. It is simply that Colu does not care to know.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED ELEVEN
HOLIDAYS-PART ONE: CHRISTMAS BALLET

“Your Adult Guardian has assigned you a lot of Earth historical literature to study, hasn’t he?” queried Phantom Girl.

“This is true,” replied Ten. “Primarily theatrical productions: plays, opera, ballet. I have studied some of Aristophanes, Aeschylus, Euripides, and Sophocles. I have viewed at least one version of each of Shakespeare’s plays, and studied all one-hundred-thirty-seven sonnets. I have viewed a production of Hamlet in the original Anglish-- a remarkable use of language, despite the problematic supernatural content. I have written a comparison of the 19th-century ballet Swan Lake, and the 28th-century Drakul, which uses the identical musical score. This led to a study of the actual vampiric species extant in the galaxy, both mundane and supernatural. I have written a paper comparing the operas Knodar, the Last Criminal, and Kamandi, the Last Boy on Earth. We recently completed an exploration of the opera Gwynplaine and Fledermaus, and its sequel, Der Spassmacher. This sort of operatic sequel recalls the 18th-century operas The Barber of Seville and The Marriage of Figaro. My Adult Guardian has further arranged that I attend the 1,075th annual performance of the Nutcracker Ballet at San Francisco Island on Earth,” said Ten. “In order to better appreciate the upcoming Christmas season on the Terran worlds.”

“It’s a very popular Terran holiday,” said Phantom Girl. “A three thousand year old celebration of Birth, Re-birth, and Hope. Hope for Peace, Love, Forgiveness… and Hope for Goodwill from the gods. One Earth, all Terrans know it is now December. Mars, in the middle of the its own month of Aquarius, is preparing for the four-week commemoration of the Christmas season. Even many Bgzltr celebrate it.”

“Indeed. My adult guardian has suggested I invite you and Ronin as my companions again for this performance Nutcracker.”

“No thanks this time,” said Phantom Girl. “Giant rats kind of creep me out. I’ll be getting plenty of Christmas later: Ronin’s family invited me to visit their Granny Winema on Earth for a couple of weeks’ stay. But here’s a thought: maybe you could invite a Coluan girl your own age as a ‘date’?”

“A fascinating idea,” said Ten. “There are fewer than one hundred children my age on Colu-- a natural result of the extended Coluan lifespan-- and although I imagine none share the same eccentric learning plan as I, I expect I could find one Coluan Adult Guardian who might consider a Terran Ballet appropriate alien cultural enrichment.”

“Do you find yourself culturally enriched among the Members?” asked Phantom Girl.

“Such an intensive study of an alien culture is its own reward,” said Ten. “And I am recognizing a number of parallels between Earth culture and attitudes and those of many other non-Terran humanoid species. Even Bgztlrs”

“There are some Bgztlrs who would find that statement shocking,” said Phantom Girl. “We like to think of ourselves as much more civilized and polite than Earthers.”

“And yet you, too, have your history,” said Ten.

Zthirri La’Ax of Colu visited the Clubhouse with Ten, returning from San Francisco Island and the ballet. Her dark golden eyes were startling against the lemon-yellow Coluan sclera. Her long blond hair hung past her waist, in complex supermathematical braids. Her cybernetic nanny was a rotating cube.

“Is that a robo-monkey?” she asked Ten, indicating mechanism perched the roof of the Clubhouse. “I one of those myself as an childish exercise. How did yours last so long?”

“It is a recent construction,” said Ten. “An experiment in... nostalgia.”

Zthirri frowned, processing this information. “And how do you get along on this world with so many diverse low-intelligence life-forms?”

“They are actually mostly Terrans,” Ten explained. “One Durlan, one Krill, one Bgztlr. We get along fine.”

“Did you enjoy Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker?” asked Phantom Girl the two brightly.

“I am still attempting to process the symbology,” said Zthirri. “Herr Drosselmeyer is especially vexing. Is he a friendly puppeteer, an eccentric relative, or a mysterious, even dangerous, antagonist? Are his living dolls intended to be technological achievements, or magical in nature? Entertaining, or threatening?”

“I believe Herr Drosselmeyer is intended to be an ambiguous character,” said Phantom Girl. “The audience is not given a complete explanation; everyone has to make up their own mind.”

“An interesting literary technique,” said Zthirri. “Perhaps it reflects on certain ambiguities in fundamental Terran nature itself.” She indicated the clubhouse area. “You are attempting to re-create the Legion of Super-Heroes legend?”

“More or less,” said Phantom Girl. “We are trying to do what good we can with our own peculiar talents and abilities. The most famous Coluan I know was a Legionnaire, of course.”

“Querl Dox is himself something of an ambiguous character,” said Zthirri. “Even Coluans to not entirely trust his family. It does not have an outstanding ‘track record’. Vril Dox was famed for his amorality, and his son Lyrl-- Brainiac 3-- was no better. Brainiac 4 was emotionally unstable, a serial murderer, and associated with the Dark Circle. There have been incursions from the future from Brainiacs 7, 8, 11, and 13, all of them irredeemably evil. Even Brainiac 5 himself exhibited dangerous mental instability at one point, and his career is far from over. Who knows what future centuries may bring? These days he seems well under control by ColuGov, and useful overall, but it is reasonable to treat any inheritor of the Brainiac mantle with caution.”

“There is a saying around the United Planets: ‘Never trust a Coluan’. I suppose the attitude on Colu is ‘Never trust a Brainiac’. No offense,” said Phantom Girl.

“None taken,” said Zthirri. “‘Never trust a Coluan’ is good advice.”

“We must both leave for Colu itself soon,” said Ten. “I will see you after the Christmas holidays.”

“The two of you are going home together?” asked Phantom Girl. “You must have really hit it off.”

“I understand that a Terran ‘date’ may have certain romantic components or implications,” said Zthirri. “But from the Coluan point of view, we are virtual infants. It will be at least a standard Earth century before either of us formally bond. Of course, there are so few children on Colu, there is a high point-five percent probability that Txarlz and I will eventually bond with one another.”

“Perhaps somewhat less,” said Ten. “There is an increasing probability that I will ultimately bond with a non-Coluan. Increased association has caused my opinion of the non-Coluan races to evolve.”

“They are, at best, level four intelligences!” exclaimed Zthirri, shocked. She eyed Phantom Girl. “And I am being generous in my assessment. How can you possibly expect to bond with them as equals? Your logical processes are befuddled by your Adult Guardian’s peculiar insistence on in-depth studies of non-Coluan cultural patterns,” Zthirri eyed Phantom Girl. "I suppose you will mate with a Terran then, or Bgztlr?"

"It is possible," Ten answered.

"Or perhaps a slith or flasher-beast?"

“This is what the Terrans call an ad hominem argument," said Ten patiently, "That is a logical fallacy based on attacking the individual, rather than the subject of discussion itself. I believe you may also be making an argumentum ad lapidem error. It is well known that Coluan intelligence evaluations below two-point-five are differences of kind, and not merely of degree."

Zthirri sniffed. “So humans even have pet names for their errors,” she said. “They must love them a great deal. Of course, they have very little else than errors to recommend them.”

“I have learned that intellect and the acquisition of data is not the sole measure of a being’s worth,” Ten explained. “It matters a great deal how that intellect and data are applied.”

"Af efyk ab yeyl, ab yeyl af efyk", Zthirri spat. "Yäbbu."

A temporary star-gate opened up, projected by Zthirri’s cubic robo-nanny.

"I must return to my studies," she explained. She turned to Phantom Girl. “It was a… pleasure to meet you.”

"Was she speaking Coluan?" asked Phantom Girl as Zthirri vanished. "What did she say?"

"Yoddish, the language of my ancestors," said Ten. "You must excuse her rudeness. She has not been not as… diversely socialized... as I have."

"But what did she say?"

"Roughly translated, she said 'They told me you were seven years old, with a tenth-level intelligence. But perhaps you are ten years old, with a seventh-level intelligence.'"

"That's bad enough," said Phantom Girl. "But what was that last word she said? It sounded like some kind of nasty insult."

"Tru, it is an epithet. She called me…Yabbu... an extinct Coluan species," Ten admitted.

"Oh, Ten, I'm so sorry."

Ten smiled. "There is no need for you to apologize. It was my fault entirely. I don't think the 'date' went well at all, do you?"

"No, I suppose not," said Phantom Girl, laughing uncomfortably.

"Well, it has been a learning experience. As are all things. However, I, also, must return to Colu soon," said Ten. "I have interviews with my Adult Guardian, and with the Proctors General. Using Zthirri’s nanny’s spacetime portal would have been very convenient, but is out of the question now. It is unfortunate my own family cannot afford such a luxury. I suppose I will have to call for a ship. This is an opportune time, I suppose. There is much travel around the Christmas holidays in the Terran sectors.”

“Good luck, Ten,” said Phantom Girl.

“I have already had the good luck of associating with you and your-- my-- friends,” said Ten.

Aww

Love the Coluan ancient history lesson and the interactions between those three...my main takeaway here though is that I never knew I needed a Kamandi, the Last Boy on Earth opera in my life so badly until today

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWELVE
HOLIDAYS-PART TWO: THARR

As the Clubhouse would be otherwise vacant for a month or so, Kallor Nal, the Star-Woman, took the opportunity to visit her mother on Naltor, which did not celebrate Christmas. As the ‘Super-Villains’ were exiled from Earth-- forbidden to even visit their parents over the Christmas holidays-- they accompanied her. Kimota, Villian, Atta and Annie were relieved to be going somewhere new for a change. Kimota, in particular, was interested in seeing Naltor’s fellow planet, New Titan. Her mother had been, after all, born on Old Titan. It was possible she might even had distant relations there.

As it happened, Herringbone Day and Christmas coincided this year by a only a matter of couple of weeks. Polar Lass arranged to take Matter-Eater Lad Two home to Tharn to visit her family.

It was now Matter-Eater Lad Two who wore a cooling belt, as Polar Lass relaxed in the swelteringly hot underground tunnels.

They were greeted at the door of the Zimm home by Polar Lass’s little sister, Aava.

“Will you take me to the Square, Kylda?” she begged. “Mor and Far are so slow in getting ready!”

Per-Blomst and Jan-Stjerne Zimm waved from inside the hobbit-hole-like house.

“Hallo! Pleased to meet you, Hillarie. Go on ahead without us, Kylda, your sister is so impatient.”

The Square was a large underground cube, decorated with metallic fish and plastic streamers. Booths of all kinds, selling anything from cakes to artwork to furniture lined the streets. Here and there were great troughs of near-boiling water.

“Do you want to build a snowman?” asked Aava.

Polar Lass obliged by tossing handfuls of water into the air, then freezing the droplets so that they fell as snow. Aava joined in, and Matter-Eater Lad Two was encouraged to get in the spirit as well. In a short time, there was a fluffy mound up to their knees. Polar Lass kept the area cold as she, Aava, and Matter-Eater Lad Two carefully built a snowman. It quickly melted, then turned to vapor, when they had left it behind. Matter-Eater Lad Two noticed more snowmen as they walked around the square, in various stages of completion or deliquescence.

The air was festive with happy chatter among the Tharrans.

Polar Lass’s parents showed up eventually, and treated everyone to a deep-fried something-or-other at the fair. For Per and Jan, it was fish, for Polar Lass, it was some odd Tharran vegetable, for Aava it was a fish-shaped chocolate cake, and Matter-Eater Lad Two tried “deep-fried water”, a hollow sugary, salty, crust of batter.

The Zimms joined with a wandering street choir, and Matter-Eater Lad Two followed along with them, although he did not know the words to any of the songs

There was a great feast in the evening at the Zimm’s home, the main course being salted, pickled fish, but a great many starchy foods, sweets and desserts as well. As promised, Matter-Eater Lad Two was provided with a wide variety of metallic salts to season his food: Sodium, potassium, sulphur, mercury, cesium, lithium, chromium, aluminum, and even small amounts of gold, silver and palladium.

Occasionally the evening’s festivities were broken up by families dropping by with fish-themed gifts; later on, Matter-Eater Lad Two accompanied the Zimms as they went out to make their own deliveries. These visits went on well past midnight.

“With everyone going out this evening, how do you know when people will be home?” asked Matter-Eater Lad Two.

“Oh, you don’t, that’s part of the fun,” said Polar Lass. “Last year, we went out really early; one year we went out so late our friends almost thought we weren’t coming. And, of course, if you see your friends on the street, you absolutely don’t exchange gifts. It has to be done at someone’s house.”

The second day was a repeat of the first, but tables were set up around the square for an outdoor feast. After everyone went home, there was another round of door-to-door gift-giving until early morning.

Hillarie opened his gift from Kylda. It was a Vavallan Scarlet Spiral Coral.

"But this must have cost you a year's stipend!" Hillarie protested.

"Is he going to eat it?" Aava asked.

"No, silly," said Kylda. "It means..."

"We know what it means," said Per Kimm, somewhat disapprovingly.

The third day, the Ancient Mariner was at the square, handing out more gifts and candy to all the little children. Brightly colored feathers were tossed in the air, and littered the ground all around as well.

Everyone on Tharr seemed happy and exhausted, from too much to eat and too little sleep. There was a great concert in the evening, with the audience singing along (at the appropriate times) until everyone was hoarse.

“We’re so proud of our girl,” said Mrs. Zimm. “A real super hero in the family.”

“I wish I had frost powers,” said Aava.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTEEN
HOLIDAYS-PART THREE: EARTH

Ronin Nah arrived at the Super-Hero Clubhouse in his landspeeder.

“The Martian stargates to Earth are jammed with Christmas season traffic,” Ronin told Phantom Girl. “Do you think your friends from Winath could give us a lift to Earth?”

“We’d be happy to,” Saturn Girl interrupted. Lightning Lass nodded her head behind her.

“We’re headed to Old Lisbon, on the Western European continent. “Granny Winema owns a cruise ship: the Princess Antigone. She said could pick us up at the docks there.”

“What’s a ‘cruise ship’?” asked Phantom Girl.

“It’s kind of like one of those old Dirigible-Hotels,” said Ronin. “But they float on the ocean, not in the air. Granny Winema bought one for hosting her occasional massive parties. Like the one we’re heading to.”

Dacey and Dorrit dropped them off on Earth, then set off for their own rendezvous on Wondil-9.

Ronin and Irinia waited half-a-day near the docks for the cruise ship to arrive. They had lunch at a churrascaria-- a Portuguese-Argentinian barbecue, where they each ate more meat than they had ever had before in a single sitting.

Ronin’s Granny Winema greeted them has they walked up the gangplank.

“Merry Christmas, my dears,” she said, kissing them each on the cheeks. She took a step back, looking them up and down. “No one told me my grandson’s paramour was a pbazo!”

Ronin and Irinia were speechless.

“At least she didn’t say ‘coloured’”, whispered Irinia, after Granny Winema had pointed the way to their cabins.

“It’s just how things were back in her generation,” said Ronin. “She didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I think that was two or three generations before her generation,” said Irinia. “And I think I know just what she meant. I’m more offended by being called a ‘paramour’.”

“I don’t think I know that word,” said Ronin.

“It’s Old Terran,” said Irinia. “You could look it up.”

Irinia was sharing a stateroom with young Arna, who was terribly excited about the evening-wear and ball gowns and makeup her grandmother had provided for them.

“This is what we’re wearing to dinner?” asked Irinia. “How did she know my size? She only just now learned the colour of my skin.”

Arna looked at Irinia curiously. “It’s IntelliFabri©,” Arna explained. “It fits itself to you automatically.” She frowned for a moment. “Irinia, I know my grandmother can be a pain in the… neck… but she’s the only living grandparent I have. Besides, she’s old and rich, and I want to stay on her good side.”

“Arna, I didn’t think you would be so mercenary,” said Irinia.

“Oh, I’m kidding,” said Arna. “Sort of. I mean, Mom and Dad are comfortable, but Granny Winema bought a whole cruise ship! And a crew to go with it! I could get used to living like this. How about some of this gold glitter under your eyes?”

Irinia allowed Arna to play dress-up with her; she seemed so excited. She herself had never been much for fashion or re-painting her features. She had spent too much of her childhood fighting her parents to be allowed to be herself, than to want to be someone else.

Arna enthusiastically introduced her extended family to Irinia.

Irinia met her older brother Dav and his wife Lespra for the first time; although of course she was well acquainted with their daughter, ‘Li’l Winema’, the bubbly four-year-old.

Irinia was introduced to Arna’s uncle Gmya and his wife Chvh, and their two grown, married children: Kaspar, their son, his wife Wyndii thier daughter, Margarethe, a couple of years older then Li’l Winema; and Moli, Kaspar’s sister, her husband Pedo Mellon, and their son El, a couple of years older than Margarethe.

“Grampa Byzjn passed away a long time ago,” said Arna. “Even before Mom and Dad met. I’ve only seen pictures of him. He sort of reminds me of those old holos of R.J. Brande, you know? Granny Winema never remarried. I guess she really loved him, although Mom says she remembers they fought a lot while she was growing up.”

“I wish I was close to my family,” said Irinia. “Well, not really, I guess. I mean, we were close once, but not close. They never approved of me. Out in the Tropic of Zeppelins, everyone is pretty… well, you know.”

“Yeah, you mentioned that before,” said Arna. “And I know it’s a sore spot with you. But I’m glad to share my family with you. And Ronin…”

“Where is that boy?” Irinia said. “I haven’t seen him since dinner.”

“Oh, Granny’s probably introducing him to some of her friends,” said Arna. “She wants him to attend some toff college on Earth, but he wants to go to school on Bgztl, like Dav did.”

Arna and Irinia finally found Ronin, and managed to pull him away from Granny Winema, after which Arna discreetly disappeared. There was a lot to do on the Antigone, holo-games, live concerts, exercise rooms, a pool-- but the two teens had to show up for Granny Winema’s examination at every meal, and attend the nightly formal balls and galas. They stole what time they could for themselves.

Christmas Day was one long, exhausting party, with the hundreds of guests exchanging presents, eating and drinking all day. Granny Winema saved the most outlandish entertainments for that day, and the Antigone became a virtual floating circus. On Boxing Day the staff and crew were feted, and the next day Irinia and Ronin returned to Mars and Gzbk, respectively.

Irinia, Ronin and Arna and stayed through New Years Day, then returned to Mars and Bgztl. School was back in session for Ronin and Arna, and as Ronin was technically an adult, their parents felt they could stay be themselves for a few weeks.

* * *

Jo and Tinya stayed through Lunar New Year.

Jo had taken to carrying a large handkerchief with him at all times. His sinuses were constantly inflamed, and his eyes were bloodshot every morning, and itched and burned.

“There must be something on Earth that I’m allergic to,” he complained. “The ship’s doctor prescribed some allergy tabs, but they don’t seem to be working.”

“You never had this problem back when we lived at Legion HQ,” said Tinya. “Maybe it’s something in the sea air?”

“Yes, well…” said Jo. “Is that what you’re wearing to the Lunar New Year Party? Isn’t it a little… revealing? I mean, I don’t mind personally, but your mother…”

“There’s nothing wrong with this dress,” said Tinya, looking herself over. “It’s perfectly modest… oh, no.” She held up her purse. “What do I have in my purse?”

Jo rubbed his eyes. “Just and old McCauley Omnicom. What is it, some kind of transparent plastic?” he asked.

Tinya sighed. “Jo, this purse is perfectly opaque. Just like my dress.”

“Penetra-vision,” said Jo. “The itching, burning eyes. Sinus problems. This is just what it was like the first time.” He concentrated. “The easiest thing to do is switch the ultra-energy to invulnerability… it should stick there as a default. But why, after all these years, do my ultra-powers decide to return?”

“Obviously, it’s Earth,” said Tinya. “This is the first time since you followed me to Bgztl that we’ve stayed her so long. There must be some subtle difference in the laws of physics, or chemistry, or biology. Stay too long on Bgztl, and your ultra-powers fade. Stay too long on Earth, and your powers return. Looks like about two months.” She sighed again. “Should we start shopping for a home in Metropolis, so you can be Ultra-Man permanently?”

“At my age?” said Jo. “I should hope not. I’m thinking of retiring from the Mechanic business, why would I want another career? And as a geriatric super-hero? No thank you. I’m too lazy now. We’ll just need to make sure we make our visits to Earth infrequent and brief.”

“My mother thinks they’re infrequent enough,” said Tinya. “Oh no-- if she convinces Ronin to go to University here do you think…”

“We’ll cross that ultra-bridge when we come to it,” said Jo. “For now, let’s have one more celebration with your mother, while I still have ultra-stamina, and then let her know we’re going home.”

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FOURTEEN
HOLIDAYS-PART FOUR: WONDIL-9
Part One:

It was Shrinking Violet that greeted Hu Krinn when he arrived on Mars in his late-30th-century space-hot-rod. His sky-blue eyes were almost as bright as his silver-white hair.

“Do you know you have Hoppers?” he asked.

“Sorry, what? Hoppers?” asked Eluia.

“Descendants of Earth sandpipers,” said Grandpa Hu. “A little bird. First brought to colonize Mars in the original terraforming. Mutated since then, of course. One of their legs has evolved into a little arm-- one-legged, now, so, Hoppers. I was driving around your sea, and I saw a colony of them. They’re pretty bright-- they build huts out of mud and grass for nests, organize them into little cities, and even farm sand-worms. They have a rudimentary culture, even a technology. In a million years they might evolve into another intelligent species.”

“Wow,” said Shrinking Violet. The centenarian was a font of pontless information.

“I see you’re staring at my arm,” said Grandpa Hu.

Shrinking Violet was not staring-- she was sure she had not been staring-- but the arm was certainly an interesting appendage. Chrome-steel, polished to a sparkling shine, it hovered in the air, just a centimeter away from the old man’s shoulder. Grandpa Hu lifted the arm in a wave, then sent it whirling and spiraling in loops above and around the clubhouse.

“You’re showing off, Grandpa,” said Cosmic Boy, emerging from the clubhouse.

The arm slipped back into place. “You’re the image of your Uncle Pol,” said Grandpa Hu. “Now more than ever.”

“I know, Grandpa,” said Pol Krinn II. He had heard it enough-- from his parents, his Aunt Imra and Uncle Garth... and from his grandfather, every time he saw him.

“Young lady, ask me how I lost my arm,” Grandpa Hu challenged Shrinking Violet.

“I… I’m kind of afraid to,” said Shrinking Violet, looking over her shoulder at Pol.

“You are looking at a man who survived the blast of a Quark Fusion Bomb. It took my arm, and my wife, and a big chunk of Metropolis with her. My boy Rokk rescued us-- and he saved his little brother Pol, too. My boy Pol went on to become a hero in his own right-- and now, Rokk’s own Pol #2 follows in the family tradition.”

Pol had a small bag of warm clothes for Wondil IX, which he stowed in the hot-rod’s luggage compartment.

“That was a little embarrassing,” said Pol.

“If I can’t be a fan of my super-hero family, who can?” asked Grandpa Hu.

Eulia noticed the chrome-steel arm was starting up the hot-rod and taking hold of the steering wheel. “Pretty advanced robotics,” she noted.

“Nope. Just a hollow metal arm, with sixteen lubricated ball joints. Controlled with by magnetism,” said Grandpa Hu.

“That’s really good control,” Eulia noted.

“You don’t win Magno-Ball trophies without developing fine control,” said Grandpa Hu. “My boy Rokk is pretty impressive in the raw power department, but Pol was the one who inherited fine control.”

“I don’t know,” said Pol. “Aunt Ayla was pretty much the one who taught me how to control my powers, but.. I guess she isn’t really an expert, is she? I mean, I know as much about electricity as magnetism itself.”

“Well, you ought to come to Earth again sometime,” said Grandpa Hu. “Visit me. We could train together.”

“You know I come whenever I can, Granpa, ” said Pol.

“Well, I mean, for a few weeks,” said Grandpa Hu. “A couple of months. Or, I could even come to Mars to train you.”

“After Wondil-9, why don’t you come back with us to Winath?” asked Pol. “Live with Dad and everybody else on Lightning Ring Farms.”

“Ah, no, not Winath,” said Grandpa Hu. “I’ve moved seen enough planets. Earth has been my home now for more that fifty years, almost half my life. But I tell you, if I live on Earth another fifty, I still want to be buried on Braal, in the end. I’d retire there now, if I could afford it.”

“You don’t have some problem with Dad, do you?” Pol ventured. “Is that why you stay away from Winath?”

“Nah,” said Grandpa Hu. “Your Dad’s my hero. I just like my independence.”

When the reached the Taine house on Wondil-9, Dorrit and Dacey were outside with Graym, Garridan, and Yves, as well as Ayla, Salu, Mekt, and Pol’s parents. They formed a tight huddle in the snowy landscape.

“Looks like a family council,” said Grandpa Hu. “Why don’t you go see what’s up, and I’ll go announce us to Charles and his wife.”

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIFTEEN
HOLIDAYS-PART FOUR: WONDIL-9
Part Two:

The Taine house was small, and crowded. But Chuck Taine stood out among the crowd. Dressed in Christmas red and green, his beard was too gray for him to be the express image of Santa Claus, but he was nevertheless pretty much the incarnation of the Christmas Spirit.

“Mr. Krinn! So glad you could come this year!” He pumped the old man’s flesh-and-blood arm enthusiastically. “It’s great to see you again. Happy Christmas Eve!”

Grandpa Hu noticed a sort of trophy case just inside the entryway. It was filled with several dozen rock samples.

“Yes, this is my rock collection,” said Chuck. “Wondil-9 is a diverse mining community, and these are a few samples of the uncommon minerals found here.”

Grandpa Hu looked over the collection. “But these are dilithium crystals,” he noted. “Nth metal ore, rainbow metal, promethium, pluridium, and… is that what I think it is?”

“Green gem-metal,” Chuck affirmed. “The jewel precipitates out of the metal. The metal is used to make Oan power-batteries, the gemstone is the key element of Green Lantern rings. That purple stuff next to it is tricorundum, the other green gem is hyperemerald, and that golden powder is actually fullerene micro-diamonds.”

“But this is a priceless collection!” Grandpa Hu exclaimed.

“No, no, these are all well below even industrial quality,” said Chuck. “Mine tailings, really. I served a couple of terms as Sheriff, and became pretty well-known locally. The miners here learned of my interest in amateur mineralogy, and sometimes bring me interesting our unusual samples. But I’ll show you something really valuable.”

He opened a drawer in the cabinet, and took out a thick book, filled with sports trading cards. He turned to a particular page. “The ‘38 Braalien Steelwolves Magno-Ball team. Probably the greatest infield in the history of the sport.” He pointed out one particular card. “That’s you. And here’s your Second Basewoman, Peggi Su Watt. And Hal Ideno, Third Base. Historical. Legendary.”

Grandpa Hu stared at the old trading cards. He was carried back to Braal, some eighty years in the past. “I didn’t know you were a Magno-Ball fan,” he said.

“Sports is my Life,” said Chuck. “All kinds. Well, watching, not playing.” He patted his expansive belly. “Here, let me show you off to my guests.”

“This is an old family friend, Nam’Lor, former Planetary Champion of Ikros. And his wife, Ydal. Their son, Yob’Lor, is the new Planetary Champion. Unfortunately, he couldn’t be with us today due to business obligations.” Grandpa Hu exchanged pleasantries with the Ikrons.

Chuck introduced him to a younger couple. “This is Grava d’Quall, and her husband Timm Karlo. Grava was a student of mine, many years ago.”

“An Extalent, right?” asked Granpa Hu.

“Half,” said Grava. “My mom’s Terran. Timm is 100% Terran, too, but he’s fourth-generation Wondilixian.”

“Miner,” said Timm Karlo. “Specialty is exotic gemstones.”

“You’re a contributor to Charles’ rock collection?” asked Grandpa Hu.

“Nope. Never find anything of that poor a quality.” He shrugged. “My family’s got a real knack for mining.”

Chuck called over an older couple. Grandpa Hu recognized them immediately.

“Doctor and Doctor Jath,” said Grandpa Hu. “It’s been a long time. Great to see you.” The Kathooni scientists wore blackout contacts, making their eyes appear solid, shiny black. “How’s the endocrinology business?”

“I’m afraid we have given up on further development of Jathosterone,” said the distaff Dr. Jath. “Lydda was a fortunate genetic fluke, but it seems to have little general application to the planetary population. We are still doing general consulting work with other Kathooni medical researchers, though.”

Two large young men, nearly their father’s younger twins, greeted the old man. “My bouncing boys, Lloyd and Aaron,” said Chuck. The young men motioned to two identical young women, who came over to greet Grandpa Hu as well.

“This is my fiance, Gwen,” said Aaron.

“And this is her twin sister, Ceci, who has been hanging around waiting for me to propose,” said Lloyd.

“And this is Lloyd,” said Ceci, “Who evidently thinks I’m going to hang around waiting forever. He may be surprised very soon..”

“When is the happy date?” Grandpa Hu asked Aaron and Gwen.

“After Christmas,” Gwen replied. “At the Wondilixian Equinox.” A great white sheepdog bounded out of another room, and nestled between Gwen and Aaron.

“Oh, and this is Wilby,” said Aaron. “He’s a Wondilixian Ice Dragon, a semi-telepathic shapeshifter. Tiger, Wilby!” The english sheepdog shifted into a small white bengal tiger. “His natural body temperature is zero celsius,” Aaron explained. “But as long as we keep the house below twenty, he’s in no danger of melting. Still, he does like to spend a lot of time outside. Oh, here comes Mom!”

“We meet at last,” said Grandpa Hu. “So sorry I couldn’t make it to the wedding.”

Aemelia Taine laughed, as round and jolly as her husband. “You’re the one who sent us that wonderful set of cooking knives as a wedding present, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I find a really good set of knives makes a happy kitchen,” said Grandpa Hu. “Happy kitchen, happy family. And it came with one millicredit postage due? I hope they made you pay it.”

“So that was intentional?” asked Aemelia.

“An old Terran superstition,” said Grandpa Hu. “Giving knives as a wedding gift is imagined to be bad luck, as it might ‘sever’ a friendship, or ‘cut’ the marriage bonds. So by forcing you to pay the postage due, you actually ‘purchased’ the knife set yourselves, rather than receiving them as a gift.”

Aemelia Taine laughed again. “If you’re intending to spend the night, we’ve rented several quonsets, out at the end of snow-tunnels leading away from the house. I don’t know if Pol intends to stay with you or his folks, but there’s plenty of room either way. We’re not having a sit-down dinner tonight, but there is plenty of food set out on tables around the house, so help yourself, buffet-style. We even have a Vegan table over by the fireplace.”

Grandpa Hu had already helped himself to a cup of eggnog on his way through the house. “This is very good,” he complimented Aemelia. “A little different from the way they serve it on Earth.”

“Chuck has become lactose-intolerant in his old age,” said Aemelia. “So the base of the eggnog is Soy Almoco, a blend of soybean, almond, and coconut milk. With plenty of sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, rum to help it along.”

“So how did you and Charles meet?” asked Grandpa Hu. “That’s the standard question for newlyweds, isn’t it?”

Aemelia laughed again. “Not so newly wed now. Our little girl Talitha is nearly two. She should be up from her nap within the hour, and you can meet her then. I was actually Aaron and Lloyd’s nanny way back when.
“I was very close to Lluornu… by the time the boys were in school, she was my best friend, despite the difference in our ages. Is it funny to say I miss her, when I married her husband? But I do. I tried to help her as much as possible at the end… those last few months were so hard. Chuck was devastated when she passed on. It was after that the two of us became close.”

Aemelia had to hurry away to tend to other guests, and Aaron and Lloyd and Ceci and Gwen drifted off. Grandpa Hu nursed his eggnog.

“You should also try Amelia’s homemade ginger perry,” said a voice behind him.

Granpa Hu turned. The voice belonged to a plump, lavender-skinned man with shocking red hair.

“Jediah Rikane,” he introduced himself. “And this is my husband, Tel Vole.” He was well-tanned, with short dark hair, and slightly balding.

“You’re Hu Krinn, Rokk’s father, right?” said Tel Vole. “Jed and I knew him when we were students of Chuck and Lu’s, back in the day. We both work as SPs, now.”

“You’re the Officer Vole that sorted out that incident on Llarr a few years ago, aren’t you?” said Grandpa Hu. “You were a minor celebrity for a while.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” said Tel Vole. “Did the chat-show circuit for a bit. Oh, here’s our son!”

The young man looked about Pol’s age, maybe a year or two younger. One side of his face was lavender with black hair, the other tan, with red hair. “Ted Rivolkane,” he introduced himself. Grandpa Hu noticed that he was holding his cup without actually touching it. His father Tel was doing the same, the cup floating a couple centimeters away from his hand.

“Magnetism?” Grandpa Hu asked, indicating the cups. “Are you Braalien?”

“Anti-gravity,” said Ted Rivolkane. “A gift from my dad.”

“Designer genes?” asked Grandpa Hu. “I see he has a little bit of the both of you in him.”

“But he’s his own man, through and through,” said Jed Rikane. “We’re proud of our boy.”

The talk of family reminded Grandpa Hu that he wanted to talk to Rokk and Lydda. But where were they? And Pol hadn’t come inside yet, either.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SIXTEEN
HOLIDAYS-PART FOUR: WONDIL-9
Part Three:

Pol stepped out of Grandpa Hu’s hot-rod, and put on the fur-lined thermal jacket.

“Mom and Dad aren’t here,” Dacey explained to Pol.

“When are they coming?” Pol asked.

“They’re not coming,” said Rokk. “Your Aunt Imra is ill.”

“What’s wrong?” asked Pol. “Are they back on Winath?”

“No, they’re on Medicus One-Oh-One,” said Rokk.

“One-Oh-One?” said Pol. “Isn’t that the Psych Ward?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” said Rokk. “Your Aunt had a breakdown a couple of days ago. A complete psychotic break. Hallucinations, delusions, paranoia, the whole package. It was pretty terrifying.”

“You know that Imra is a powerful telepath,” said Mekt. “We all experienced it when she... lost control. She was broadcasting her breakdown out to all of us… even our neighbors felt a distinct unease.”

“When we were little, Mom would sometimes get mad, and speak directly to our minds,” said Graym. “That was scary enough, knowing exactly what she was thinking and feeling. But this was terrifying. It was almost like she wasn’t thinking at all.”

Garridan, Dorrit and Dacey nodded.

“I’ve never experienced anything like it,” said Yves. “It was like the whole world turned inside-out.”

“Little Vi was terrified,” said Salu. “She and Ayla and I just clung to each other, paralyzed with terror.”

Pol looked around. “Where is Vi now?” he asked.

“She went in with Aemelia when we arrived,” said Salu. “She and the other kids have been set up with their own room, with its own little Christmas tree, toys, and whatnot.”

“Garth was just amazing,” said Ayla. “He got Imra calmed down, called the paramedics, and had her consent to being sedated. I guess all their time together has allowed him to build some resistance to her telepathy. He and the paramedics got her under control, then had her transferred to Medicus One-Oh-One. When he was sure we were all OK, he followed her there. He claims he’s not coming back until she’s cured.”

“From personal experience,” said Mekt, “I have high confidence in the modern psychiatric science. But I do not expect Imra to return to us in a short time.”

“I thought your mom was doing well,” said Pol. “Last time you talked to her, she was so positive, right?”

“Well, actually,” said Dacey, “Her calm, worry-free acceptance was a symptom of the underlying problem. When she and Dad were on vacation on Vondra, she had some kind of uncanny, supernatural epiphany that she claimed changed her life and resolved all her fears. She hasn’t talked about the particulars. But it seems like she’s just been suppressing all her anxieties since then, and the cognitive dissonance finally overwhelmed her.”

“Wow, how are you guys holding up?” asked Pol.

“OK, I guess,” said Dorrit. “But I don’t think Christmas is going to be such an enjoyable time of year for us in the future.”

Encounter with a God
Keith Douglas (1936)

Ono-no-komache the poetess
sat on the ground among her flowers,
sat in her delicate-patterned dress
thinking of the rowers,
thinking of the god Daikoku.

Thinking of the rock pool
and carp in the waterfall at night.
Daikoku in accordance with the rule
is beautiful, she said, with a slight
tendency to angles.

But Daikoku came
who had been drinking all night
with the greenish gods of chance and fame.
He was rotund standing in the moonlight,
with a round, white paunch.

Who said
I am not beautiful,
I do not wish to be wonderfully made,
I am intoxicated dutiful daughter,
and I will not be in a poem.

But the poetess sat still
holding her head and making verses:
‘How intricate and peculiarly well-
arranged the symmetrical belly-purses
of lord Daikoku.’

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

Ballad of the Bread Man
Charles Causley (1968)

Mary stood in the kitchen
Baking a loaf of bread.
An angel flew in through the window.
‘We’ve a job for you,’ he said.

'God in his big gold heaven
Sitting in his big blue chair,
Wanted a mother for his little son.
Suddenly saw you there.’

Mary shook and trembled,
‘It isn’t true what you say.’
‘Don’t say that,’ said the angel.
‘The baby’s on its way.’

Joseph was in the workshop
Planing a piece of wood.
‘The old man’s past it,’ the neighbours said.
‘That girl’s been up to no good.’

‘And who was that elegant fellow,’
They said. ‘in the shiny gear?’
The things they said about Gabriel
Were hardly fit to hear.

Mary never answered,
Mary never replied.
She kept the information,
Like the baby, safe inside.

It was the election winter.
They went to vote in town.
When Mary found her time had come
The hotels let her down.

The baby was born in an annex
Next to the local pub.
At midnight, a delegation
Turned up from the Farmers’ Club.

They talked about an explosion
That made a hole in the sky,
Said they’d been sent to the Lamb and Flag
To see God come down from on high.

A few days later a bishop
And a five-star general were seen
With the head of an African country
In a bullet-proof limousine.

‘We’ve come,’ they said ‘with tokens
For the little boy to choose.’
Told the tale about war and peace
In the television news.

After them came the soldiers
With rifle and bombs and gun,
Looking for enemies of the state.
The family had packed up and gone.

When they got back to the village
The neighbours said, to a man,
‘That boy will never be one of us,
Though he does what he blessed well can.’

He went round to all the people
A paper crown on his head.
Here is some bread from my father.
Take, eat, he said.

Nobody seemed very hungry.
Nobody seemed to care.
Nobody saw the god in himself
Quietly standing there.

He finished up in the papers,
He came to a very bad end.
He was charged with bringing the living to life.
No man was that prisoner’s friend.

There’s only one kind of punishment
To fit that kind of crime.
They rigged a trial and shot him dead.
They were only just in time.

They lifted the young man by the leg,
Thy lifted him by the arm,
They locked him in a cathedral
In case he came to harm.

They stored him safe as water
Under seven rocks.
One Sunday morning he burst out
Like a jack-in-the-box.

Through the town he went walking.
He showed them the holes in his head.
Now do you want any loaves? he cried.
‘Not today’ they said.

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

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SEVENTEEN
HOLIDAYS-PART FIVE: MEDICUS ONE-ZERO-ONE

“I must have your complete trust, Mrs. Ranzz,” the Head Physician of MIOI insisted. “Would you prefer a Terran doctor? I acknowledge there have been… conflicts… in the past, between our two peoples.”

“And yet it was the White Bokkites who rescued the first Titan colonies from disaster,” said Imra. “New Titan still celebrates Thanksgiving Night. No, Dr. Gudur, I am not one of the fashionably modern-day Terran xenophobes.”

Dr. Gudur pursed her lips, and steepled her fingers. “Tell me about your symptoms, as you experience them.”

“It is as if there is a second world overlaid on the one we share,” said Imra. “I know it is not real to you, but it appears as tangible to me as this table.” She rapped her knuckles on the desk between them. “I wear myself out disbelieving it.”

“For example?” asked Dr. Gudur.

“There is a scarlet serpent coiled on the corner of your desk. He is not threatening. Friendly, in fact. But I somehow know you cannot see him. The walls of this Station sometimes seem terribly thin, like gauze. It is a wonder they can hold an atmosphere. I feel as though I could puncture them with my finger. The floors are soft, like pillows, or balloons. They shift. I have difficulty keeping my balance when I walk. Yet Garth has no problem walking right beside me. In fact, he is always there to catch me when I stumble.” She smiled at her husband sitting beside her. “Sometimes, I forget things. I find it difficult to concentrate. There is a constant murmuring of voices I cannot understand, and a background of music I do not recognize, distracting me. I will suddenly lose interest in life-- of either world-- and find I have been sitting, staring, doing nothing, for hours. Other times I am overcome with rage, that seems to come from nowhere. When I look in the mirror, my eyes and nose and mouth are empty sockets. I am frequently terrified that something disastrous has happened to my family, and it is my fault. I know this is all a product of my own disturbed mind, but I cannot get it under control. Just keeping up an appearance of normalcy exhausts me.”

“Do you understand you must continue to wear your psionic suppressor?” asked Dr. Gudur. “And not attempt to escape from this Station again until we release you?”

Imra nodded. “Of course I understand. But I cannot guarantee that tomorrow I will not try again. You must keep me under constant monitoring, for my safety, and yours. I’m sorry.” Tears dripped from her red-rimmed blue eyes. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

Her room on Medicus IOI was dark when Imra awoke. Garth lay beside her, snoring gently.

“I love you, My Fire,” said Imra. Her husband gave no sign that he had heard.

The lights in the common room were low, scarcely bright enough to find one’s way across the floor. Wally was sitting in one of the reclining chairs. He rather resembled a very young Clark Kent.

“Hello, Wally,” said Imra. “Things haven’t gone so well since I saw you on Vondra.”

“A great man once said, ‘Everything will be okay in the end. If it's not okay, it's not the end.’”

“I never understand you.”

“Do you remember what I told you on Vondra?”

“You told me to become as a little child. Quite the advice in Aurora Valley.”

“I also told you to stop worrying so much. I believe my exact words were ‘Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.’”

“Are you real, or just part of my illness?” asked Imra. “You haven’t appeared to anyone but me.”

“I’m not appearing to you,” said Wally, “You’re seeing me. And yes, I’m real. Realer than a lot of things in this Galaxy you take for granted.”

“Who are you, really, Wally? What are you?”

“Well, you’ve met Dream and Delirium of the Endless? You know what they are? Anthropomorphic Personifications of Universal Forces. There are a lot of them running around the Universe. That’s what I am. An Anthropomorphic Personification.”

“Of what?” asked Imra. “Of God?”

“Of the idea of God,” said Wally.

“And where is the idea of Imra Ardeen-Ranzz?”

“Oh, all over, really. There is one in your husband’s mind, and one in each of the minds of your children, and one in the mind of God. That’s the important one.”

Imra sighed. “Why are you here, Wally? Why bother with me?”

“I like you, Imra.”

“Like those Hari Ramas at the spaceport say?” asked Imra. “The ones who shout ‘God loves you!’ at the all the people waiting in the queues?”

“The Hari Ramas get many thing wrong,” said Wally. “But they are right about that.”

“Why? Am I such a good person?”

“That’s beside the point.” Wally shook his head. “It’s not that you’re necessarily a good person, it’s that you are worth saving.”

“I’m afraid I’ve fallen too far,” said Imra. “I can’t see how I could ever find my way back.”

“Well, I can’t heal you all at once,” said Wally, hopping down from the chair. “That would seem suspicious. The doctors here would never believe it. And believe me, I'm an expert on believing. I think maybe… two weeks? Of steady, rapid progress? Then a few months of more gradual recovery. Are you on board?”

“But how?”

“Two pieces of advice. Firstly: that there are false gods, and there are true Gods. False gods are strengthened by your belief in them. But your faith in the true Gods strengthens you. This is how to ell the difference. Now please stop wasting your strength believing in Darkseid.”

Imra could no longer look Wally in the eye.

“Secondly,” said Wally. “Be Still And Know.”

“Know? What?” asked Imra, confused. A shiver suddenly passed over her. She had the beginning of an inkling that there might indeed be a path back to her old self stretching out into the future.

“And there is one last thing,” said Wally. “I must call upon the assistance of one more Anthropomorphic Personification. The Avatar of the Joy of Giving.”

A large round man emerged from the shadows. He strongly resembled Chuck Taine, although his beard was whiter and fuller, and his nose was rounder and pinker. He was clothed entirely in auburn and cream-colored fur. There was a sense of snow and holly about him.

“Santa Claus?” cried Imra. “Now I know this is only a dream-- or a hallucination.”

“There is a quality to Dreams,” said Wally. “Just as there is a quality to Life. Look within yourself. You know now that this is not a dream. But you will need a token of some kind to still believe that tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll overlook your lack of faith, Imra,” said Santa, sighing. “I’m afraid I don’t meet many your age who still believe in me.” He handed a package wrapped in a red-and-green plaid to Imra. “I brought you a gift. Don’t open it until tomorrow morning.” Santa smiled at Imra, and winked.

The room began to spin, and Imra sunk down on one of the soft couches.

“Merry Christmas,” said Santa Claus.

“Sleep well,” said Wally. “Get better.”

She awoke in her own bed. Garth was standing over her, holding the red-and-green plaid package.

“Full service on MIOI,” said Garth. “Presents on Christmas morning. Look what Santa brought me.”

He held up a Christmas ornament: a small wooden lightning bolt, hand-carved, painted gold.

“Open yours.”

Imra took the package cautiously. It was about the size of a shoebox. There was a soft fabric doll inside, obviously handmade.

“Iggles?” she said. She looked up at Garth. “My mother made me a doll just like this when I was… I had Iggles forever, kept her for years and years, until I wore the stuffing out of her…” She turned the doll over. The crooked stitching was perfectly recognizable. “Oh, only until I was in Kindergarten, really... I’d forgotten all about her... Haven’t thought of her since… a long, long time ago. Before we formed the Legion, at least. How could even a telepath…?”

Garth seemed perplexed by his wife’s reaction to a perfectly ordinary little child’s doll.

“Do you know what, My Fire?” said Imra. “I think that next year is the year I'm going get better. I feel like I’ve been… reborn this Christmas. I love you.” She kissed her husband Christmas morning.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED EIGHTEEN
HOLIDAYS-PART SIX: ORZDE
Shrinking Violet, Chameleon, The Triplicate Girls and Korvea thought it absurd to hang around the Clubhouse on Mars with the rest of the members scattered across the Galaxy. Shrinking Violet convinced her parents to spring for passage for six to Orzde.

“If you don’t mind staying on a farm,” she cautioned. “We have plenty of room, although the accommodations might not be what you’re used to.”

“I’ve slept in trees and burrows,” Chameleon reminded her.

“It may not be a palace,” said Korvea, “But what is?” She looked pointedly at the Mark II Cruiser-now-Clubhouse on the beach.

“Should we be offended?” asked Ffey.

“We better get on our way to the Metropolis Spaceport,” said Korvea. “We don’t want to miss our flight to the Irulan System.”

Eulia and the Triplicates used their flight rings. Korvea and Chameleon sprouted wings, and flew under their own power. When they disembarked at the Orzdean spaceport, they used the same method to fly out to the M’Kord farm.

They were met by a young girl, perhaps half Ten’s age.

“Where are the folks, Song?” asked Eulia.

“They went over to Brokee’s Ranch. Dad’s tired of Elvabird again.”

Eulia swept her arm around the farm. “We grow vegetable exotics, mostly,” she said. “Some staples for our own consumption. But the only animals on the farm are Elvabirds.”

“Or my pets!” Song reminded her.

“We’re a small operation-- just a kilohectare-- but up the road, the Brokees run big grazing lands for cattle: Dragolopes, Hoppos, Hexacorns and Woollies.”

The M’Kord parents still had not returned by the time Eulia had given the other Members a tour of the main house and the farm.

“The folks fixed up rooms in the Old House for you,” Song told them. There were three rooms: one for the Triplicates, one for Korvea and Shrinking Violet, and one for Chameleon. Eulia’s room had a small aquarium in it.

“I put Charlotte in your room to keep you company,” said Song.

Charlotte was a triangular, semi-transparent, fishy thing.

“He’s a Mega-Copepod,” Eulia explained.

“I have two more,” said Song.

“It’s been a long flight,” said Eulia. “But I think tomorrow we’ll go into The City.”

Hal and Puira M’Kord returned a couple of hours before suppertime. Eulia’s older brothers Antoin and Anson came with them. Korvea thought Puira looked scarcely older than her sons-- only slightly older than Kallor Nal, even.

“They’re half-brothers,” Eulia explained. “Their other mother lives out in the opposite hemisphere. They visit her regularly, but they mostly live here. They like the Farm a lot.”

Hal M’Kord was tall and broad, with curly red hair and a bushy red beard. He was smiling and friendly, but quiet and taciturn. A six-word sentence from him was an oration.

Dinner was a savory Elvabird-egg custard with plenty of vegetables, served with thick Hoppo-bacon, and spongy Orzdean muffins.

Afterwards, the visitors went out to watch the sunset. Irulan, Orzde’s tiny white sun, was scarcely a small dot in the sky, but kaleidoscopic light colors flooded the horizon at dusk.

Song followed them out with two swooping parrotdactyls and a largish hamster-like creature with an immense black nose behind her.

“That’s Scarlet and Sapphire in the sky,” said Eulia.

“And this is Trip,” said Song, holding up the large-nosed creature proudly.

“Funnily enough,” said Eulia, “Triprodons are the only other animals in the Irulan system who can change their size at will. Aside from people, that is, and space-dragons.”

Trip was sniffing Chameleon when he startled suddenly, and shot up to an immense size-- at least three meters at the shoulder. Chameleon responded in kind, morphing into Trip’s twin. Trip sniffed again, and evidently satisfied, shrank back down to small-puppy-dog-size.

Song laughed. “Can I have Chameleon for a pet?”

“Chameleon is a person,” Eulia reminded her.

“I know,” Song sing-songed. But she also gave a little pout before her smile returned.

“Song also has a Mothcat and a Zortugan,” said Eulia. “She takes care of her pets, and that keeps her out of trouble on the farm. You haven’t got any more since I’ve been away, have you?”

“Do you know about Fluffy?” asked Song.

“Yes, I heard about Fluffy,” said Eulia.

“What I really want a snake,” said Song. “But the folks won’t get any strange alien animals for me.”

“We’ll go to Germel City tomorrow,” Eulia told the others. “It’s one of Orzde’s fractal cities. You might find it interesting.

The near-forgotten history of Colu, to diverse Christmas parties, to encounters with the idea of God and ending on a fractal city: the head spins, sans champagne.

Yoddish is a very compact language. Efficiency or merely simplicity?

The poor Super-Villains can't go home for Xmas and it appears their parents don't want to come visit them. Good to have a friend like Kallor Nal.

If I could only attend one party, I'd go for the Taines. Snow and conviviality and ginger perry (which I had never heard of). Tharr sure knows how to celebrate but it's a bit too much - and not sure I'd want to be stuck on a cruise ship with Winema.

Is that the first time anyone has called Chuck Taine "Charles"? Reminds me of Marion calling Fonzie Arthur on Happy Days.

Imra's encounter with Wally was particularly interesting. A spiritual awakening, or perhaps more of a cleansing, of the power which Darkseid (the idea of Darkseid) had over her.

I'm glad Imra's story doesn't end with her having a breakdown

Also, the idea of a snake as a strange alien animal made me chuckle

razsolo:
Imra’s story is far, far from over. Considering the life-extension techniques extant in the 31st century, she reasonably has a good century of life left.
Of course, Rejuvium’s efficacy can vary from individual to individual…

Cramer:
OF COURSE anyone would want to spend Christmas with the Taines.

While penning the Rainbow Girl Epic, I realized how central Chuck and Lu really are to Legion history.

Triplicate Girl was the fourth member to join, after the founders (and arguably the fifth and sixth as well) and she was still there at the end. Chuck encouraged Legion rejects and had ties to the Science Police. They were the first to marry, and leave the Legion and begin their adult lives-- but kept coming back. We have seen them as colonists on Wondil-9, military leaders on Xolnar (they seemed to have an affinity for frozen worlds) and instructors at the Academy. They worked with the first Legionnaires, and taught the last Legionnaires.

And now, about that fractal city...

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED NINETEEN
HOLIDAYS-PART SEVEN: THE MICROVERSE

Germel City was a set of concentric rings, each decreasing in size by one-half as it approached the city center. Korvea, the Triplicates, and Chameleon were supplied with shrinking belts so that they could tour the entire town.

Halfway to the city center, the height of all the building reduced by half. Three-quarters of the way in, the size of the neighborhoods reduced by half again. Seven-eighths of the way in, everything reduced by half again, and so on.

After four hours of walking-- and seven reductions-- they had, of course, made no progress at all to the City Center.

“Come on-- we’ll take a Tourist Bus,” said Eulia, laughing.

They drove through the Circles for another hour and a half. The neighborhoods repeated themselves over and over, each replicating the structures a level above. Each reduction saw a change of materials: wood and brick gave way to ceramic and shellacked cardboard; then things began to get very metallic, and at last, unidentifiable materials. At last they came to a great wall, where in other circles there had been a border between reductions.

“Everybody out,” said Eulia. “Twenty-Fourth Circle of Germel City. End of the line.”

“But couldn’t we just keep on forever?” asked Ffarrah.

“Mathematically, yes,” said the driver. “Practically, no. Building at levels below this one would be unstable, especially during the Shrinking Seasons.”

“What is this gritty material?” asked Ffiona, looking at a wall. “It looks almost like sandstone.”

“Those tiny grains,” said Eulia, “Are atoms. And beyond that barrier”-- she indicated a portal masked in sparkling, violet energy-- “lies the Microverse, where the laws of physics are… different.”

The Tourist Bus and driver left, and the Members went to inspect the portal.

“This portal will reduce us in size another billion times,” said Eulia. “Small enough to enter deep within the Microverse, and live comfortably on the surface of an atom, as if it were a planet. Full-on quantum mechanics is the rule there, but there is also some uncertainty about what is real, and when what you are perceiving is only symbolic of what is really there. Remember, uncertainty is the rule, and not the exception. And the Laws of the Universe change in other, less intuitive ways as well. No two experiences of the Microverse are ever the same. But one thing is certain: there are two ways out: UP, back the way we came, and DOWN, out through the other side of the Planck length.”

“Got it,” said Ffiona.

“You do?” asked Ffarrah and Ffey together.

The Triplicates, Chameleon, Korvea, and Shrinking Violet went through the violet curtain.

And came out the other side.

The Triplicates and Shrinking Violet were unchanged, but Chameleon and Korvea were nearly unrecognizable.

Chameleon had the appearance of an melting, orange pyramid, his humanoid head perched atop at a skewed angle. Korvea appeared a living, three-dimensional shadow, with bird wings and bird head. Her hands, when she spread them, were like claws.

“I feel cold,” said Korvea. “Colder than I’ve ever felt. But strangely, not uncomfortable.”

“Don’t try to shape-shift just yet,” Eulia instructed Chameleon. “Watch what happens when the Triplicates try to use their powers. Go ahead and fuse together for a moment,” she instructed them.

Ffiona, Ffarrah and Ffey moved toward one another, but as they did, shimmering, ghostly copies of themselves appeared around them. As they fused together, the doppelgangers became more solid, until there were thousands of the girls stretching out into the distance.

“Just as I thought,” said Eulia. “When you try to combine, your position only becomes more uncertain. It would probably be better to remain as three, and keep several arms-lengths away from each other. You will probably be more comfortable when traveling, as the uncertainty in momentum will make up for some of the uncertainty in position.”

“What about me?” asked Chameleon. “I can grow somewhat larger or smaller, but I can’t change shape-- and this is a particularly uncomfortable shape.”

“Try replicating something we can see in our immediate area-- like one of those tree-like things.”

“Wow, they’re hard to read,” said Chameleon, a flabby arm appearing to scratch his antennae. He finally managed to assume the form of an golden, tree-like semi-humanoid.

“Are we all OK?” asked Eulia. “Being Orzdean, I am perfectly comfortable in the Microverse.” She shot up to a relative height of about twenty feet, then shrunk back down again. “Perfect control,” she said. “Of course, I’ve been here before.”

It was at that point they heard the cries for help.

It was a rough, stone prison, with iron bars. A beautiful young girl cried frantically from within.

“Oh, help me, brave knights! I am the Princess Duessa, held captive here by a loathsome, savage giant. Oh, rescue me.”

“How can you be held captive?” asked Ffiona. “If I understand the way things work here…” she approached the prison, and pressed herself up against the bars, remaining perfectly still. Her image shimmered, and she was suddenly inside the prison cell with Princess Duessa. “Quantum tunneling, right? That’s the first time I’ve tried that trick, and it’s easy enough. Can’t you do the same?”

Princess Duessa drew back, her hand over her mouth in terror-- or mock terror.

“Take my hand, and we’ll leave this place together,” said Ffiona.

A voice came from outside.

“Do not trust her!” shouted a second girl. She is leading you into a trap!”

“And who are you?” asked Ffey.

“I am Princess Una,” said the Princess. “And you are in grave danger!”

Ffiona had phased through the walls of Duessa’s prison alone. “Are there Cargggites in the Microverse?” she asked Shrinking Violet. “Una, Duessa… I’m expecting Princess Treya to show up any time now.”

“They may not even be strictly real,” said Eulia. “Their main purpose seems to be to serve as a warning or harbinger of something…”

“Her purpose is to hold you here until the giant Orgoglio arrives!” cried Princess Una.

“It is Duessa that is the servant of Orgoglio!” cried Princess Duessa, still cowering in her cell. “Oh, please rescue me, brave knights!”

“And why are we the knights?” asked Ffey. “I feel like we’ve wandered into a story, and been mistaken for someone else.”

“Duessa is duplicitous and untrue…” cried Una.

The giant Orgoglio rose from beneath the ground, to the harmonious screaming of the two princesses.

He was at least fifty feet tall, with warty orange skin. He was much broader, relatively speaking, than an ordinary man, and objectively uglier. The giant grabbed at Korvea, then shrieked in startled pain as his hand passed through her living shadow-self, and emerged covered with ice. Chameleon attempted to match the giant’s form, but ended up twice as tall. He threw Orgoglio back at the pit where he had risen from, but overshot, the giant landing amidst, and crushing, a small woodlands. An enraged Orgoglio surged to his feet, bellowing, but an enlarged Shrinking Violet grabbed the giant in one hand, and threw him a good hundred yards up and away. More crashing of trees was heard in the distance, and more-- but more pained-- bellowing.

“Hold, Monsters,” cried a third voice. A silver-clad knight on a cream-white charger had entered the battlefield. “You will answer to Dame Britomart, greatest of knights. But be warned-- never have I been defeated in battle!”

Chameleon returned to his lopsided pyramid shape, then struggled to return to humanoid tree form. Shrinking Violet did what she did best, and returned to an inconspicuous size.

“Where are your tormentors, Princesses?” asked Britomart. Her armour must have been quite loose-fitting, for no woman, however mightily endowed, could have filled its contours.

“Have you had enough?” asked Shrinking Violet. “We seem to be interfering in a tale whose logic frankly escapes me.”

The Triplicates nodded, in unanimous agreement.

“I, for one, would like to regain more control over my shape,” said Chameleon.

“And while I find these new abilities intriguing, I would like to practice them under more controlled circumstances,” said Korvea. “Do you think I might be able to replicate this shadow-self back in the Macroverse?”

“Doubtful,” said Shrinking Violet, growing again to an immense height. She scooped up the other five members. “The laws of physics are so different at this size.” At an appropriate size, she leaped off the little world, and continued rapidly growing up to full size. She stowed her friends in one of the pouches of her belt. When the reached the Twenty-Fourth Circle, she used her flight belt to fly out and above the Germel City. At her full height of nearly six feet, she released the other Members.

“I’ve taken you this far,” she said. “You should be able to use your belts to return to full-size. We’ll need to turn them in at the front gate, and reclaim our deposits. I’m afraid we missed lunch at the farm, but we should be home in time for dinner.”

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY
HOLIDAYS-PART SEVEN: THE RETURN

Saturn Girl, :Lightning Lass, and Cosmic Boy returned to the Clubhouse first.

“If I hear ‘All I Want For Christmas Is The Universe’ one more time, I think I’ll scream,” said Saturn Girl.

“Hey!” objected Lightning Lass. “That’s my favorite Christmas song!”

Polar Lass and Matter-Eater Lad Two showed up the next day.

“Next year, I’ll take you to Bismoll for Crystal Christmas,” Matter-Eater Lad Two promised.”Of course, we’ll have to pack you plenty of snacks.”

Ronin Nah dropped off Phantom Girl the following morning, and the Triplicates, Chameleon, Korvea and Shrinking Violet returned in that evening.

Star-Woman and the Super-Villain Club returned the following afternoon.

Ten and Vesta were last back from the holidays. “Who is that jolly fat man, all dressed in yellow, who gives away fruit to children at Christmastime?” asked Ten. “Banana Claus!" He paused a moment. “Juvenile Terran humour.” he explained.

The Members and Villains groaned.

“Please tell us this is not your latest course of study,” Black Flame implored.

“I am in a good mood,” Ten explained. “Despite the disapproval of Zthirri and her family, my parents and Guardian are sanguine regarding my increasing assimilation into alien cultures. If it is the wrong path after all, and I wish to embrace natural Coluan isolationism, I will have many centuries remaining to do so.”

“I find the remaining undercurrents of isolationism among the United Planets troubling,” said Black Flame. “Half of Earth is xenophobic, the Daxamites even moreso. The Krill keep to themselves, as do the Coluans and Amazonians. Naltorans, and the Saturnians of New Titan, are ostracized on many worlds, as are Durlans and Tharnans. It is a troubling state of affairs, for a confederacy of worlds who claim to be ‘United’.”

“I would not characterize Colu as xenophobic, merely inflexible and rigid. My Adult Advisor attributes this to an overenthusiam for gnostic learning, and an aversion to noetic experience. Gnostiphilia and Noetiphobia, if you will.”

Most of the Members and Villains stared at Ten blankly.

“Coluans study 17th-century philosophy?” asked Villian.

“The terminology dates from that period,” said Ten, “But the concepts were discussed at length a full millenium before, by the philosopher Lao Tzu and the Taoists, and may actually pre-date them. Of course, such ideas have been discussed on Colu for far longer. Although my Adult Advisor attributes general racial chauvinism throughout the Galaxy to his Parochialism Theory.”

“Which is?” asked Villian.

“Suppose you had ten thousand close friends,” said Ten. “People you really knew well, interacted with frequently, knew the intimate details of their lives. Of course, time constraints alone would make an intimacy of such proportions impossible. But suppose. And suppose you had ten thousand times ten thousand acquaintances-- people your friends were familiar with, and who you were somewhat aware of. There would still be a hundred trillion citizens of the United Planets who were complete strangers to you: their hopes, dreams, and sorrows unknown. You could only think of them in massive groups: inaccurate, generalized stereotypes. There would be some amelioration of this effect if your intimates were extraordinarily diverse, but this is seldom the case.”

“And your intimate associates are extremely diverse,” said Black Flame. “For the past year, you have seldom associated with other Coluans at all. Only-- well, to you, aliens.”

“This is correct,” said Ten. “I am something of a living social experiment. Although willing, I might add.”

“It is not just a problem in the UP,” said Shrinking Violet. “Between two and three Galactic Years ago, the Galaxy we now call the Milky Way had been colonized by two great civilizations: the Llorn and the Krill. Each inhabited hundreds of thousands of worlds, and consisted of tens of thousand of species. You could not identify a Llorn or Krill by sight alone. Each Empire, for instance, had several humanoid member species who would have been indistinguishable from Orzdeans.”

“And yet they were not one Empire, but two Empires. Supposedly divided by deep philosophical differences... but primarily just a plain Tribalism Mentality, the Krill-Llorn Wars stretched on for hundreds of millenia, sometimes flaring hot, the cooling off for a few centuries. At last, their hyper-advanced technology caused Galaxy-wide levels of destruction. Whole star clusters were annihilated, uncounted numbers died, and the Galaxy was thrown into chaos. A treaty was finally brokered: the Krill ‘won’; the Llorn left the Galaxy to colonize Andromeda. But the Galaxy had been unalterably changed. Extant planets found their ecologies thrown into chaos, the development of emerging worlds were stymied or corrupted by clouds of molecular-level debris fields throughout the Galaxy. Earth, for example, passed through a Krill-Llorn generated debris cloud a little under a half-billion years ago, which probably lead to what is known as the Cambrian extinction.”

“Fascinating,” Ten remarked. “Organic molecules would have made up a portion of those debris clouds, which might have altered the course of evolution on countless worlds. Inorganic molecules would have had a negative effect on developing life. All the Galaxy might all be descendants-- at least partially-- of the Krill and Llorn.”

“And Llorn,” noted Shrinking Violet.

“Wait a minute,” interrupted Evil-Eye Annie. “Are you saying that without these Galactic Wars, Terrans might have evolved from Trilobites or Nautili?”

“Like the Huuduu or Zpirrians?” asked Shriking Violet.

“Point taken,” said Annie. “The science of exovulution is complex, and unpredictable.”

“An interesting historical and philosophical discussion,” said Ten. “But I have work to do. Phantom Girl has returned me with a working flight ring, loaned to us by Mrs. Nah. If I can reverse-engineer it-- and obtain the appropriate materials-- I may be able to create a superior replacement for our flight belts.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-ONE
REVERSE ENGINEERING

Saturn Girl was concerned.

“Please Ten-- Txarlz-- take a break for some food and rest. We haven’t seen you for days.”

“I have had regular meals, sufficient water, and adequate rest.” He opened a drawer in one of his laboratory benches. “Coluan nutritive paste takes up little room. And I acquired a supply of the appropriate formulation for my age and development during my recent stay with my Adult Guardian on Colu.” He gave Dorrit a pitiful glance. “However, I must admit that my efforts at duplicating this Legion Flight Ring appear to be futile. I must confess it is beyond by technological know-how.”

“Really? What’s wrong?” Saturn Girl was surprised. “I… I don’t think I ever imagined a Coluan would say such a thing.”

“I am only a child,” said Ten. “And this object was created by one of the greatest minds in the Universe. Much of the design is opaque to me. For example, I know that the ring is powered by Unpentbium, but I cannot seem to find where Brainiac 5 put it. Possibly in some extra-dimensional micro-pocket universe? I don’t know. And, of course, I am familiar with psionic interfaces-- I use a simple one in the flight belts-- but this one… It is designed to do things I am unable to identify. I theorize that over time, it may create a bond with the user… but I can’t be sure. And much of the other software-- and even hardware, I think-- exists only virtually, unavailable for examination. It is most perplexing…”

“I can sometimes ‘read’ computer minds, if they are complex enough…” said Saturn Girl. “Yes, it seems to be marginally sentient… it could be designed to learn to recognize the mind of the user… and to stimulate the acuity of certain mental faculties… Courage? Positive thinking? I can’t get a good read, the programming is either vague or shielded.”

“Shielded, yes,” said Ten. “Portions of the design are intentionally obfuscated. This might interest you, however.”

He pulled up a translucent holo-screen.

“Similar flight rings are available for sale on special order. Unfortunately, they cost over ten kilocredits apiece-- a good seventy-five weeks worth of Stipend, if it was spent on nothing else. I had hoped that the proprietors might be related to the old Legion, and perhaps offer us a deep discount. But it seems that the original patent was taken out by Brande Industries, as Querl Dox was-- is-- only a child by Coluan standards. After the death of Mr. Daggle, RJ Brande’s heir, his children sold the patent to some organization known as the Malverne Family Trust, on Earth. They have operated Element 152 LLC ever since, the only source for flight rings in the Galaxy.” He stared at the ring on his workbench. “After studying the design, I cannot imagine they could manufacture these rings without input from Querl Dox himself, but there appears to be no connection between Element 152 and Querl Dox at all. They must have a brilliant engineer and technologist on staff.”

“Well, I suppose we will have to make do with your artisanal flight belts, until one of us becomes the next billionaire entrepreneur,” said Saturn Girl. “I’ve become quite fond of my belt, really.”

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-TWO
1O-A

“Mr. Luz, I presume?” asked the pig-faced girl.

“Indeed,” said Ten, turning his teal-speckled chartreuse face up towards the monitor.

“I had not realized Coluans were so small.”

“Coluans come in many sizes,” Ten replied truthfully.

“I received your inquiry regarding a purchase of one gram of para-stable Element 152. I can only produce a few micrograms per second, and I have other orders. I expect it would be several months before I would be able to ship. The total cost could run you some ¢9200up.”

“I am afraid I will need to cancel my order,” said Ten. “There have been… irresolvable technical issues on this end.”

“I did produce a small test sample. This metal has some… unusual… properties. I could ship it to you for ¢55up, including postage and handling.”

Ten thought for a microsecond. “Yes, I think that would be acceptable,” he said. “Please debit my Interplanetary Bank account, and send the shipment.” He thumbed an identification node, which transmitted the data.

“A pleasure doing business with you. I look forward to your custom in the future.” The screen went dark.

“And who are you purchasing fifty-five credits worth of anti-gravity metal from?” asked Shrinking Violet.

Ten jumped. Shrinking Violet, Saturn Girl, and Star-Woman had silently entered behind him.

“Her name is Grizella. Originally from World 318, she is now living in exile on Afrofuturus. Because of her powers.”

“Her powers?” asked Star-Woman.

“She is a nucleosynthesist,” said Ten. “Able to transmute the chemical elements.”

“I expect she makes a good living,” said Star-Woman, “Providing underage Coluans with exotic materials. From outside U.P. space. Where there is no one to question her or her motives.”

“And where were you going to find 10,000 credits?” asked Shrinking Violet. “That would exhaust our annual budget several times over.”

“Don’t tell me Renlo Tagor…” put in Saturn Girl.

“My Adult Guardian,” said Ten, “Encouraged me in my efforts to reproduce Brainiac Dox’s flight ring technology. I expected he would also support my acquisition of the necessary materials. I see now I acted rashly-- I perceive that he must have known such an effort was beyond my capabilities. I expect this was a lesson in humility.”

“Well, I need to pick up some details from the wallscreen regarding a request for help we received from from Terran Colony Ten-Alpha,” Saturn Girl announced.

“Ah, Planet Ten-Alpha,” said Ten.

“That’s a pretty exclusive spot, isn’t it?” asked Star-Woman.

“Well, yes, I suppose,” answered Saturn Girl. “A retirement community, Terrans only, no one under the age of seventy-five allowed.”

“Well, that lets us all out for at least another half-century” said Star-Woman. “Most of the original Legion as well.”

“Maybe as residents,” said Saturn Girl. “But they’re inviting us as guests. Well, investigators, really. They are afraid there may be a preparatory invasion force hiding somewhere on the planet.”

“So a group of wealthy senior citizens wants our assistance, because they are hearing noises in the woods?” asked Star-Woman.

“I am sensing a lack of enthusiasm on your part for this mission,” said Saturn Girl.

“No, no,” said Star-Woman. “This would be an excellent opportunity to try something new, and sent part of the team. It doesn’t sound like something that would require all of us. And if it is a full-blown Khundish invasion, our best option anyway would be to run away and call for help.”

“That’s actually a pretty good idea,” said Saturn Girl. “I’ll take Cosmic Boy, Lightning Lad and Ten with me, and we’ll investigate.”

“If it is a stealth invasion,” said Ten, “It is more likely to be the Dark Circle than the Khunds. Khundia and its dominions are not known for their subtlety.”

There was no formal governing authority on 1O-A, just a number of Boards of Directors for various Homeowner Associations. The Members met with the Board who had contacted them.

“It’s here,” said the old woman who served as Chair. “Nearly the other side of the planet. Some of our residents have reported seeing unusual activity on flyovers there.”

“Ten-Alpha was UP-certified uninhabited previously?” Saturn Girl queried.

“Naturally,” said the old woman. “Plant life only. That is why these reports are so disturbing. We would like to make a small donation to your ‘Super-Hero Club’ for you services in investigating this.”

“We would help you anyway,” said Saturn Girl. “But any donation would be much appreciated. We don’t really have any regular sources of funding. Our treasurer is Eulia M’Kord, Shrinking Violet. You can reach her the same way you contacted me.”

The four Members took a quick trip to the other side of the planet. The area in question was obvious.

“It looks like someone has cleared out part of the forest, and has created farmland,” Lightning Lass observed.

“Looks like less than an acre from here,” said Cosmic Boy. “That doesn’t really look like an invasion force.”

They circled around the farmed land until they found a small wooden house, painted green, nearly blending into the forest background. They landed a respectful distance away, and found a cobblestone path leading to the front door. They were greeted by a small robot, no less than a meter-and-a-half in height.

“Tom Tinkham,” said the little robot, extending a hand. “Who d-do I have the pl-pleasure of addressing?” He had an obvious, pronounced stutter.

“We call ourselves the Super-Hero Club,” said Saturn Girl. “Saturn Girl, Lightning Lass, Cosmic Boy, and Ten.”

“A little C-Coluan,” Tom Tinkham noted.

“Where is your master?” asked Ten. “I assume you are the major domo of this house?”

“He is the master,” said an eight-foot-tall Lionoid, squeezing through the door onto the porch. “As well as my host. Mr. Tinkham is a fully sentient, fully independent artificial lifeform.”

“You are a Regulan?” asked Ten. The Lionid nodded. “Not members of the United Planets, then?”


“One of the Unaffiliated Worlds,” said the Regulan. “You can call me Richard, as my Regulan name is… rather too loud for polite Terran conversation.”

The little robot gave a tinny sigh. “I g-guess you are here about the T-Terran c-colony on the other side of the p-planet,” he said.

“You four ought to know,” said Richard the Regulan, “that Tom and his family have been living on this little world for centuries. It has only been since I came, however, that they have made a noticeable impact on the local environment.”

Cosmic Boy looked over the small fields to a hydroponic hothouse. “Meatmelons?” he asked. “And… hay?”

The Regulan nodded his shaggy head. “The melons for me, and hay and straw for the golem. Golem! Come meet our visitors!”

A peculiar creature came out of the house. It was made of bundles of straw and hay, tightly woven and tied. What clothes it had were ill-fitting, and seemed only an afterthought. Its face was nearly blank, with only a suggestion of eyes and mouth in its sculpted hollows.

“Emmet is animated by m-magic,” said Tom. “The only m-magic we’ve ever done. We c-can’t s-seem make him speak, though. B-but he’s a g-good worker, and grows his own st-straw.”

“Magic-working robots,” said Ten. “This may be unprecedented.”

“Th-there is th-

“How many more of you are there?” asked Lightning Lass. “A robot, a golem-- all artificial creatures. Your Regulan guest excepted.”

“J-just my wife, d-Dorothy,” said Tom. “Another r-robot, like m-me. Sh-she’s our in the h-hothouse right now, b-but she’ll be b-back soon.”

“Dorothy and Tom have lived here with the golem for centuries,” said Richard the Regulan. “They have a standing invitation with my family to visit, as we wish. Usually when one of us has grown old.” He brushed back his mane, well shot through with gray. “So this was something of a small retirement community even before the Terrans came.”

“W-we would be h-happy to r-relocate,” said Tom. “If w-we are in the w-way. B-but our ship is long g-gone. W-we would need h-help moving, and s-somewhere to go.”

“I seem to have been through this before,” said Saturn Girl. “There is no universal consensus in the United Planets on the status of artificial intelligences, so it is up to the government of this world-- such as it is-- whether to accept you or not.”

There was a glint of silver from the hothouse, and they could see a second little robot moving in their direction. It-- she-- was not an exact replica of Tom Tinkham, but she came close.

“H-has the time c-come for us to leave?” asked the female robot.

Cosmic Boy had been conferring with Lightning Lass.

“Tom, I can sense magnetic fields”, said Cosmic Boy. “Dacey can sense electric fields. There is something very unusual about the metal you are composed of. We have never quite seen anything like it.”

“A p-polymorphic al-alloy,” said Tom. “It can m-mimic the properties of other m-metals.”

“And w-we can r-reshape ourselves,” said Dorothy, demonstrating. Her metal body seemed almost fluid, then settled into a new, elongated form, then returned to normal.

“Oh, dear, I just realized! I know who you are,” said Saturn Girl. “You may be robots, but unless I am very much mistaken, you are unquestionably Terran, or at least from Earth, and certainly over the age of seventy-five. I believe we can convince the other inhabitants of this world that you are not invaders, and have as much right to be here as they do-- if not more. Although we might have to reveal your true identities.”

“W-we would prefer you n-not…” said Dorothy, exchanging a glance with Tom.

“We will do what we can, then,” said Saturn Girl.

“As you have lived solitary lives on this world for hundreds of years,” said Ten, “I deduce that what you most want is to be left in peace. Correct?”

The two little robots nodded.

“I-if you c-can help us with the b-Boards,” said Tom, “C-could you do me one other f-favor?”

* * *

“Tom and Dorothy do not exhibit the standard patterns of stuttering,” noted Ten. “I suspect that there may be something wrong with their speech processors. Perhaps I could return to Ten-Alpha sometime, and take a look at their construction?”

“That is a lovely thought,” said Saturn Girl. “But Tom and Dorothy have been around for over a thousand years. They are very ancient technology, and it is best to leave well enough alone. There is an old Winathan saying, ‘If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it’.”

Ten nodded. “There is also the ancient Terran parable of ‘new wine in old bottles’,” he said. “Your point is well taken.”

The Members landed in the park on Manna-Three, across from the University, just at dusk. The people of that world would be mostly indoors at the evening meal; they hoped to have a short time away from curious eyes.

The statue stood on a medium-high pedestal. It was of a round, hefty humanoid male, who might have been a native of any the Manna Worlds, or even of Earth, or the Terran colonies. It was made of some pale, shiny blue-gray metal. The head was crowned with an odd helmet, topped with a reversed, un-aerodynamic fin.

The plaque on the pedestal identified the statue as The Gourmand, a work by W. Sungam.

“Hello, Oz,” said Saturn Girl, addressing the statue.

The statue, unsurprisingly, did not respond.

“My name is Dorrit Ranzz,” she continued. “Tom Tinkham and Dorothy sent us to see how you are doing.”

As if waking from a deep trance, the statue blinked, then stirred, then sat down on top of the pedestal. It looked down at the four Members.

“Do you have an older brother named Graym?” asked the statue.

“Why, yes, in fact, I do,” said Dorrit. “This is my sister, Dacey.”

“Well, it is a small Universe,” said Osmium. “Your brother and his girlfriend, Yves Jor, used to come to this park regularly, and sit on that bench right over there.”

“They’re married now,” said Dorrit.

“I’m not surprised,” said Osmium “And how are my tin friends?”

“We have successfully negotiated approval of their permanent settlement on Colony Ten-Alpha,” said Ten. “As well as for their guests, Emmet, their golem, and the Richard the Regulan.”

“I don’t know Richard,” said Osmium. “But it is good to hear they are entertaining a Regulan again.”

“They want to know if you are happy on Manna-Three,” said Saturn Girl.

“It must be dull, just standing there all day long,” said Cosmic Boy. Don’t you ever get up and move around at night?”

“If I don’t move, I don’t trip over things, or crush them,” said Osmium. “I like just watching these people live their lives. One family has been coming to the park for five generations.” He held up his finger to show them. “They are almost like friends.”

Using the peculiar shape-shifting ability both Tom and Dorothy had displayed, Osmium created a little ukulele for himself. He played and sang for about two minutes

I see trees of green, red roses too
I see them bloom for me and you
And I think to myself what a wonderful world
I see skies of blue and clouds of white
The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night
And I think to myself what a wonderful world
The colors of the rainbow so pretty in the sky
Are also on the faces of people going by
I see friends shaking hands saying how do you do
They're really saying I love you
I hear babies crying, I watch them grow
They'll learn much more than I'll never know
And I think to myself what a wonderful world

The metal man resumed his normal form, and climbed back up onto his place on the pedestal.

“Well, Oz,” said Cosmic Boy, “If you ever get tired of just standing and looking, Tom and Dorothy have invited you to live with them on Colony Ten-Alpha.”

“Thank them for me,” said Osmium. He then resumed his motionless vigil.

* * *

“You were quiet this trip, Dacey,” said Cosmic Boy on the trip back.

“It’s just…” Lightning Lass mused. “Tom and Dorothy seem so happy together. And Oz seems content to be alone. I don’t know… I don’t know what I want. After all the weirdness with Arnion, I still a little freaked out, I guess… so I can’t see myself ending up like Tom and Dorothy. But I don’t want to end up like Oz, either…”

“Hey, we’ve got probably a century of life ahead of us, even more,” said Cosmic Boy. “Don’t rush it. I’m sure something interesting is bound to happen in the next hundred years or so. Who knows? You might even end up heading a new generation back on Lightning Ring Farms. They do say that there’s no place like home.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“If I ever go looking for my heart's desire again, I won't look any further than my own backyard. Because if it isn't there, I never really lost it to begin with.” ― Judy Garland, The Wizard of Oz (film)

“The Scarecrow listened carefully, and said, "I cannot understand why you should wish to leave this beautiful country and go back to the dry, gray place you call Kansas."
"That is because you have no brains" answered the girl. "No matter how dreary and gray our homes are, we people of flesh and blood would rather live there than in any other country, be it ever so beautiful. There is no place like home."
The Scarecrow sighed.
"Of course I cannot understand it," he said. "If your heads were stuffed with straw, like mine, you would probably all live in the beautiful places, and then Kansas would have no people at all. It is fortunate for Kansas that you have brains." -- The Wonderful Wizard of Oz (book) -- L. Frank Baum

It's nice seeing Tin and his lady friend get a happy ending...and the Scarecrow quote was very well placed

Not an ending so much as a… snapshot.



‘Tom’ and ‘Dot’ are now nearly eleven centuries old. I’m not sure how long responsometers live.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-THREE
THE OTHER MARA

The cat-girl grabbed Ten by the neck.

“Where is she?” she hissed, lifting him off the ground.

There were no flashing lights, no whirring of gears from Vesta, but Ten’s force-shield belt snapped on.

“Ah, you must be the Other Mara,” said Ten. “I am afraid cannot entertain you. I really need to finish my Astronomy assignment, and the sun will be up soon.” He gestured toward the pink horizon, then flew up and away, his force-shield slick, slippery, and unholdable. Vesta followed after.

“Are you looking for me?” A new Mara came around from behind the clubhouse. The Other Mara vanished on the spot, instantly re-appearing before the New Mara. The New Mara stood calmly; the Other Mara’s claws were ineffective. This New Mara was wearing some kind of armor. The Other Mara attacked the New Mara’s head visciously-- but it was like clawing at gelatin, which re-formed instantaneously.

The Cargggan Triplicates attacked from behind, grabbing the Other Mara by the arms, legs, and torso. The New Mara shifted into Chameleon form.

“OK, so that was a bad idea,” Chameleon noted. “It only seemed to enrage her.” He shifted again into a fourth duplicate of the Triplicates, and assisted them in restraining the cat-girl. The Other Mara easily teleported out of their grasp.

“We spoke with the Justice League of Earth,” the Other Mara spit. “They said she came her, looking for you. Bring her to me, or tell me where she went. Or...”

“Take out the teleporter first,” cried Lightning Lass. She had just appeared with two more Members.

“There’s more than one?” asked Ffiona. She looked around. There was, indeed, a cat-boy standing off to one side.

Lightning Lass flashed lightning in the Other Mara’s direction. To her dismay, her electrical bolts turned to tiny colored flowers. Polar Lass began creating ice prisons around the two cat-people. But the ice dissolved, and blew away like dust in the wind. The ground heaved, and two buried steel girders rose up, wrapping around the two cat-people. But the girders melted away like water.

Saturn Girl rose up into the air, in front of the Clubhouse. “{{His name is Kit. He’s her… husband. He’s an Elementalist, controlling the seven elements of Arau: Stone, Metal, Wind, Ice, Wood, Fire, and Lightning. He is able to… transmute one element into another.}}”

Star-Woman flew down from the sky, brandishing her star-rod. “I don’t suppose he controls gravity, or stellar energy?” Energy-spheres formed around the two, but the Other Mara teleported away. She appeared in the air, grasping the star-rod, and Star-Woman’s shoulder. First the rod disappeared, then, with a cry, the Star-Woman. The Other Mara herself fell toward the ground, then vanished, re-appearing beside her husband.

“You are powerful,” she said. “But I am determined. If you are hiding my enemy, then you are my enemy as well.”

“{{Your sister Mara is not here}}”, Saturn Girl answered. “{{And we do not know where she has gone. We suggested she might find asylum with the Pacht, but whether she took that suggestion or not we have no idea. She is not your enemy. She has upheld her part of the bargain-- to leave you alone, to let you both live your own lives}}.”

“My [i]sister?” the Other Mara cried, incensed. “You lie! She is even now plotting, sneaking, tracking me down. Waiting for her opportunity to ambush me-- destroy me..”.

“{{And you know this because…?}}”

“Because I am doing the same thing!” cried the Other Mara. “The antipathy grows… it is overwhelming.” She crouched, eyeing the collected Members, evidently selecting who to attack next.

“Oh, I think that’s enough of that,” said Korvea, rising on black wings with the dawn. Shadows enveloped the Other Mara and Kit. The followed the Other Mara as she teleported blindly about the Clubhouse terraces.

Ten had returned, emerging from the Clubhouse with a squarish box, about the size of of a shoebox. Odd antennae, wires and aerials stuck out of it at peculiar angles. Ten manipulated a trigger mechanism. The shadows around Kit vanished, and a portal appeared in front of him, framing him like a portrait. Ten turned, focused on the Other Mara, and the same thing happened.

“What did you do?” asked Ffarrah.

“They are trapped in temporary, artificial pocket dimensions,” Ten explained. “Look in back of the portals. They appear to be standing there, when seen face-on, but they are actually… elsewhere. And the Other Mara has nowhere to teleport to. The dimensions are rather small.”

Ten’s look of satisfaction vanished, as a sand-clone in his image rose from the ground in front of him, and grabbed the boxy device. It turned toward Kit, and fired a second blast.

“I appear to have miscalculated,” Ten admitted. “The Aruaan’s psionic abilities are able to penetrate the dimensional barrier.”

As the ray hit the portal, it vanished-- and so did the image of Kit. The sand-golem collapsed into a pile, and the ray-gun fell to the ground with an unhealthy crack.

“He closed the portal without freeing himself,” Ten observed, picking up the pieces of the ray-gun. “Evidently he did not know how to work the controls… unsurprising, as I barely finished fitting them a few moments ago.”

Star-Woman had returned from wherever the Other Mara had sent her.

“Where is my star-rod?” she questioned the cat-girl.

The Other Mara looked sulky. It was an improvement over rage. “It is orbiting the second planet of this system, at some distance.”

Star-Woman looked up towards the sun. She squinted. “Yes, I see it.” She took to the sky again, and disappeared from sight.

“Your invention is broken,” said Saturn Girl. “We can’t leave them there forever. They’ll starve to death.”

Ten considered. “They are unlikely to starve. However, the oxygen in those dimensions is limited-- probably only a few hour’s worth-- so it would be best if I repaired this device as soon a possible. Perhaps you can help me? And Shrinking Violet’s assistance would be invaluable as well.”

“A Coluan, asking for help from lower intelligences?” asked Shrinking Violet. “The Galaxy is getting stranger every day.”

“Time is of the essence,” Ten replied. “And I need to manipulate some very small pieces in this repair.”

* * *

“You really ought to return to Alsciaukat,” Saturn Girl counseled Kit. “You do realize that once the two Antipathetic Duplicates encounter each other, there is a 50% chance that your Mara will be the one to die.”

“But the element of surprise would be a distinct advantage,” the Other Mara objected.

“But that’s the Antipath Phage talking,” said Saturn Girl. “You two really are safest apart. And Mara… your duplicate… seemed convinced of that, when she was here. She wanted to get far, far away.”

“But there are Pacht worlds near Arau,” said Kit. “She could be hiding out on one of them.”

“The key concept here is hiding,” said Saturn Girl.

“Dorrit, please, they must be starving,” said Phantom Girl, standing beside the AutoChef. “So being felinoid… are you carnivores? You look like you have the teeth for it. Have you tried Earth’s roast chicken?”

“Two, please,” said Kit. “Two, each.”

“Unless you have a roast turkey,” said the Other Mara. “And the cavity filled with that oleaginous, flavored grain?”

“One whole roast turkey with stuffing, coming up.” She keyed in the order. “Just call me Tryptophantom Girl.”




(Note: Mara of Arau, the Tesser Cat, last appeared in Chapter One Hundred Nine)

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-THREE - A
(addendum)
SECOND THOUGHTS

“It is frustrating,” Kallor Nal complained. “We have faced an aggressive teleporter before-- twice, in fact. We ought to have developed a standard defensive response, instead of these uncoordinated, ad hoc attacks.”

“There was never any doubt of the outcome,” Ann Foxmoor reassured her. “While you were out on the terrace, I was inside the Clubhouse, focusing my curse-power on them. That’s why you suddenly went from fighting them to rescuing them.”

“Really?” said Kallor. “It is true that the damage to Ten’s improvised Gaoler was unexpected… but I would have thought an unluckier outcome would have been for the two Maras to confront one another.”

A few days later, Kallor approached Ann again.

“Your powers only work on living beings, correct?” she asked. “I mean, you couldn’t curse a wall or a spaceship.”

“As far as I know,” said Ann. “I don’t much like to experiment. It’s dangerous.”

Kallor pulled out a large potted mushroom. “Try your malediction powers on this,” Kallor asked.

Ann squinted her eyes, wrinkling her forehead and nose. There was no effect.

“Maybe I can’t affect plants,” she said, resignedly. “No, that’s wrong. I wilted a dozen long-stemmed roses once. Well, I can’t always do it on command, anyway. It’s tied to my emotions.”

“Imagine this mushroom is an old boyfriend,” said Kallor.

“It does remind me of… never mind.” Ann concentrated on the mushroom again, without effect.

“Come with me,” said Kallor. They strode some distance away, off the terrace, and nearly into the woods.

Kallor set down the pot.

“Try it now.”

The puffball exploded violently. The two young women were covered in spores. The remainder of the mushroom shriveled and blackened.

“We’re beyond the null-Mana field now,” said Kallor. “I was thinking about your name. Foxmoor. It’s old Terran-- means ‘fairy-field’. Your powers are magical in nature.”

“Eldritch,” said Ann. “Villian taught me the word. It means ‘elf-magic’.”

“Maybe you should be the one studying on the Sorcerer’s World,” Kallor suggested.

“Only if they set up a campus on Earth,” she said. “One hundred percent Earth-born, remember? Mars-- now-- is the furthest anyone in my family has traveled since… well, before humans were human.”

“I don’t dispute it,” said Kallor. “But at least one of your ancestors was from Faery.”

UNTOLD TALES
DIGRESSION: VIGNETTE ALPHA

“Kal? Or should I call you Clark?” asked fourteen-year-old Imra Ardeen, the Saturn Girl.

“How about just Superboy?” said Superboy.

“All right… Superboy.” {“He wants to be called ‘Superboy’?} Imra thought to herself. {“Is he a narcissist, or just hopelessly naïve? He’s hovering just a half-inch above the seat of the chair. Showing off? But most people wouldn’t even notice. Is he just practicing his anti-gravity powers? It does demonstrate remarkable control.[/i]”} “You’ve just met our Supergirl?” she asked aloud.

“She’s from your past, and my future, right?” Superboy inquired. “She told me her Kryptonian name is Kara Zor-El. Is she my… grand-daughter?”

“Younger cousin,” Imra answered. “It’s a long story. You should spend some time talking to her.”

Superboy spend a moment pondering the implications of this revelation. “Maybe I shouldn’t try to learn too much about my future.”

“We had been thinking the same thing,” said Imra. “It might be a good idea for Kara and I to hypnotize you into forgetting any personal information about your future life you learn in the 3Oth century, when you return to your own time.”

“I wouldn’t want to forget everything I learn here…” said Superboy.

“We wouldn’t want you to,” said Imra. “We believe there are valuable things you can learn here, that will make you a better hero. For example, you have probably by now learned every Earth language…”

“Only a couple dozen, so far,” said Superboy. “I guess I really should buckle down and learn them all?”

“Yes, and while you are in the 3Oth century, you ought to become fluent in Interlac, and the various native languages of nearby systems: Centauri, Wolfish, Teegardenese…”

Superboy nodded. “That seems like a good idea. We don’t have Universal Language Computers in Smallville.”

“Let me show you something else.” Imra pulled out a chalky, white stone. “This is White Kryptonite.” Superboy startled. “You haven’t encountered it-- yet. But it is probably worthwhile to know it exists. White Kryptonite is harmless to you-- but deadly to all plant life. Kryptonian, Terran, any other alien plant life. Even some bacteria and fungi. Anything that makes a living by any photosynthetic process.” She put the stone away in a lead box. “This are just a sample of things the Legion has to offer you. What I’m trying to say is… we would really like you to visit us more often.”

Superboy smiled. “I really am terribly busy back in the 2Oth century. I don’t see how I could spend much time here.”

Imra smiled back. “There is something you obviously don’t know about Kryptonians. Once a Kryptonian hits puberty, their maturation rate slows relative to Earth-people. For example, your cousin Supergirl appears to be in her mid-teens, but is actually some twenty years old, Earth-standard. Chronologically speaking. It will actually be another eight or ten years before she is physiologically an adult. Time-traveling to the future-- spending a week with the Legion every weekend could actually help protect your secret identity.”

“You’re right,” said Superboy. “I didn’t know that. Maybe I should do more time-traveling.”

“Ask Ma and Pa Kent regularly how old you look,” Imra suggested. “To make sure you’re growing up ‘properly’. There is one other thing.”

Imra hesitated, evidently somewhat embarrassed.

“We need you, Kal. Superboy. The Legion need heroes. If it were just a matter of raw power, we could recruit from Almerac, or Daxam, or Khera, or Kormo, or New Zoron, or Rokyn, or Terminus. But there is more to being a hero than just impressive super-powers. That’s why we recruited you and Kara, and even heroes with seemingly lesser abilities, like Lluornu, and Lyle. We can teach you to be a hero, Superboy. And we want you to teach us, as well.”

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-FOUR
REMEMBRANCE OF THINGS PAST

Earth I; University Central Laboratory, Bottle City of Kandor, 1975

“The theory is sound,” said sixteen-year-old Lyle-Zee.

“Then why not present it to the Science Council?” asked Lili Van-Zee, his twin sister. “Why conduct these experiments in secret?”

“The theory is sound,” said Lyle-Zee. “But I want to make sure the practical application of the technology is workable.”

“Isn’t it a little… hubristic?” asked Lili. “To think you can succeed where Kandor’s greatest scientists-- and even Superman and Supergirl-- have failed so far?”

“It is an entirely different approach,” said Lyle. “I am not trying to reverse the effects of Brainiac’s shrinking ray, or exchanging one individual for another. I intend to merely create a stable wormhole from our pocket micro-universe into the outer world. The ordinary laws of nature will take care of the size differential. Once I have demonstrated that an object can be transferred safely through the wormhole, it is entirely scalable upward-- and all of Kandor can be restored, on the planet of our choosing.” He held up an ornate jewelry box. “I intend to move this little box out into the Fortress of Solitude, as proof of concept.”

He turned on a monitor which displayed an outside view of the interior of the Fortress. A horizontal aperture hung in the empty air.

“But where’s the other end?” asked Lili. “You can’t have a one-sided wormhole. It’s impossible!”

“That’s the exit,” explained Lyle. “A wormhole connects two locations in spacetime, and the entrance is located a few seconds in the future.” He indicated the ornate box. “It should appear right under this box, which will fall through the wormhole, and emerge, full-sized, into the Fortress.”

Sure enough, there was the sound like the tearing of paper, and the smaller end of the wormhole appeared in the spot Lyle had indicated. The box tilted, and began to fall, but before it could enter completely, the wormhole flickered and vanished. There was an explosion of Scarlet Forest wood splinters, as the little box exploded, cut in half. The wormhole reappeared, vertical this time, then vanished again with a pop.

“It’s become unstable somehow,” said Lyle-Zee. “I’ll need to collapse it…” The aberrant vanished and reappeared again, taking a bite out of one of the walls. Pebbles of plascrete rained from the ceiling.

“Do something before it damages the equipment!” shouted Lili. Half a sparrow dropped in front of her, evidently from the Earth outside.

“I’ve almost got it,” said Lyle-Zee. “It should have been more stable. I can’t think what made it degrade so fast. I’ll need to go back and check my calculations. Obviously, I missed something.”

He looked around the lab. The damage was noticeable, but not too bad. A small accident, easily explained, easily forgiven. Except…

His sister was gone.

Earth-K2, Somewhere near the North Pole, twenty-nine years ago

Lili Van-Zee dropped out of the air, and fell face-first into a deep pack of snow. It was neither as cold nor as painful as she had expected.

She then felt the strange but familiar exhilaration as Earth’s yellow solar radiation flowed into her, and the super-powers she had in this environment activated.

She hadn’t been out of Kandor since she was nine.

She looked for the Fortress of Solitude. It was not far away, especially as she now possessed telescopic vision. But something was wrong. She quickly flew over to investigate.

The golden door of the Fortress hung open at an odd angle, the hinges bent and broken. Ice and snow had invaded the entryway for some distance. She took a quick tour. The Interstellar Zoo was tenantless. The wall that held Supercomputer was blank and empty. There was no evidence of the robots, or statues, or other memorabilia that usually filled the Fortress.

And the Bottle City of Kandor was gone, of course.

She paused in her survey. Her super-hearing had detected the approach of a flying vessel. It was landing just outside the entrance of the Fortress. Seven brightly-clad humans were exiting the vehicle. Lili flew down to meet them.

“What happened here?” Lili asked in English. There was no response from the humans except puzzlement. “Was ist geschehen? ¿Que pasó aquí? Qu'est-il arrivé? Nini kimetokea? Anong nangyari dito? Kio okazis?”

“What language are you speaking?” asked a blonde man, in formal, highly accented Interlac.

“Oh, thank Rao, you speak Interlac,” said Lili. “What happened to the Fortress of Solitude? Why is it in ruins?”

“Nothing has happened to the Fortress,” the blonde man answered. “It has been a ruin for centuries. It is a great tourist attraction, when North Polar Park is open. How do you not know that? What planet are you from?”

“Earth,” said Lili. “I’m from Earth… wait, what year is this?”

“A time traveler,” said the blonde man, with a faint note of disgust. “You are in the 31st century. Where do you think you should be?”

Lili looked back over her shoulder. “Well, I used to live in the Fortress of Solitude, to be perfectly honest. Back in the 2Oth century. My name is Lili Van-Zee.” She extended a hand, which none of the humans seemed interested in taking. Maybe greetings were different on Earth in the 31st century?

“I am Earth-Man,” said the blonde. “These are my associates: Stormtrooper, Spider Queen, Golden Midas, Tusker, Radiation Roy, Eyeful Ethel. We are the protectors of Earth.”

“Oh, if this is the 31st century, are you the Legion of Super-Heroes?” asked Lili excitedly.

Earth-Man spat on the ground. “Aliens, traitors, and cowards,” he said. “Good riddance to them. We are the Justice League. How do you know about the Legion, if you come from so far in the past?”

“Well, Superman, naturally,” said Lili. “I’m, let see, technically his first cousin once removed. My mother is from Earth, but my father, is from Krypton, Superman’s cousin. From the Bottle City of Kandor.”

“Krypton is a lie!” shouted Spider-Girl. “Superman was as much of the Earth as we are.”

“That has been authoritatively established,” said Radiation Roy, his voice echoing in his bright red hazmat suit.

“Yet she I do feel power from her,” said Earth-Man. “Probably a renegade Daxamite, separated from her an invasion force.”

Lili felt a peculiar weakness, as though her powers were draining away. Of course: this Earth-Man must have powers similar to Superman’s enemy, the Parasite. Lili shot straight up into the air-- or tried to. She was already a little wobbly, but pressed herself. The further she got away from this Earth-Man character, the better. There was something very not right about this future “Justice League”.

She looked behind her, and saw Earth-Man rising after her. The other six Justice Leaguers were rather farther behind. She was now high in the atmosphere, but she took a deep breath, and blew a small hurricane at her pursuers. Caught off-guard, the seven fell backward, toward the Earth. She took off into outer space proper, passing the orbit of the Moon, then Mars. She finally came to rest on a small rock in the asteroid belt. Her powers had quickly returned to normal levels. She scanned for anyone who might still be chasing her.

Venus, Earth, Mars, Titan, and Neptune appeared to have been colonized in the last thousand years. The other worlds had plenty of artificial satellites, as well. There were what looked like mining craft throughout the asteroid belt-- and more ships, in the low Kuiper belt, beyond Neptune.

No one seemed particularly interested in a sixteen-year-old girl, a thousand-plus years from home.

Well, the thing to do was to catch up on the news, figure out a safe place to hide for awhile, then time-travel back home. It might take a few months, but Lili was confident she could do it.

And when she got home, she would give Lyle such a kick.

* * *

Kirt Niedrigh stared up at the empty sky. The rest of the Justice League had retired to their Pod, to warm themselves by the heaters. He would have to join them. He could feel the powers he had absorbed fading away already. Oh, but they had felt good while he had had them.

“The Substitutes have broken into a Xudaran juvenile holding compound, and escaped with about a hundred of the children,” said Eyeful Ethel. “They are probably headed to one of the Northern Metropolis Ghettos. We could confront them there.”

“At least we’ve cleansed Earth of the Legion,” said Earth-Man. “Although their powers are a great temptation to me. There may be a way, though… I’ve been thinking. He looked out at the sky again. What we really need is to get rid of that sprocking yellow sun.”