PART 1 - WANDERINGS
The Metropolis skyline dropped away behind them, gravity surrendering its grip upon the time-lost pair flying slowly away from the coast.
"What now?"
The question drew Thom Kallor back from his vigilant, yet somehow detached survey of the horizon, and he turned his gaze downward to meet the sky-blue eyes of his beautiful passenger, Nura Nal. He sighed, filling his mighty lungs with an unlikely gust of sea air carried from above the calm waters of Hob's Bay and the Atlantic Ocean. Ahead, dark thunderclouds marred the horizon, their purplish tint and the haze beneath promising a cruel downpour upon those unlucky enough to be caught in the streets of the Big Apricot in the hours to come.
"There shall be other ways. Perhaps Kara - the Superwoman - knows of other avenues we can investigate. Our recent visit to the SteelWorks may have proved fruitless, but I am sure that your gift shall lead us to the correct path."
Nura sniffed, her perfect nose crinkling with amusement. "Oh? You're leaving all the hard work to me, then?"
Thom stiffened in mortification, unconsciously tightening his grip slightly upon Nura's shapely form, whom he carried protectively in his arms. "Of course not," he stammered, but further protestations were cut short by the gentle press of Nura's lips upon his.
"Silly boy," she breathed a moment later. "How long shall it take you to learn when I'm joking?"
Thom's face, already a-flush with ardour, reddened further in embarrassment. His serious tone drained the possible humour in his reply. "You are the Seer... I would not presume to offer a impose upon your domain."
"Thom." Nura shook her head lightly. "We shall have to find where you buried that sense of humour of yours. But firstly..."
"Yes, m'lady?"
"Could you perhaps hold on just a little less tightly?"
Nura drew in a deep breath as Thom quickly released Nura from his cradled arms, allowing her to float alongside him. The star-borne control over gravity that allowed Thom to propel himself and his paramour skyward held Nura safely yet softly at Thom's side and his calloused hand grasped her delicate one as they flew onward. Below them, the mainland boroughs of Metropolis slowly melted into scattered towns and farmlets that reminded each of their respective homeworlds in ways, yet appeared nothing as they would in the pairs' home time. In that far-distant future, one thousand years away, Metropolis' gleaming skyways and towering arcologies would dominate the countryside where neat roadways now delineated peaceful New England farms and villages. Automobiles rumbled their way between towns that would be serviced by skyborne vehicles, and the air held a sharp, metallic tang that had little to do with the approaching storm, one that would be purged (along with the unsound environmental practices that helped spawn it) in the intervening years. Nura stared with unease at the thunderheads looming on the western horizon, lightning flashes mirrored in eyes that matched the skies to their backs.
"Thom, I know that in your travels, you became accustomed to all manner of conditions," She paused, letting him nod in assent. "But if you get my hair and clothes sopping wet flying through a thunderstorm, we are going to have a problem."
Thom smiled as they continued westward toward the purple and black hued horizon, a small sniff denoting a rare moment of humour, but a chance tilt of his head towards Nura's gravely furrowed brow brought the moment to an sudden end.
"I am really going to have to teach you when I'm joking. But for now, can we please go somewhere sunny?"
Thom's eyes widened with understanding, and the pair swooped abruptly to the left, before cutting a path over the sparkling Atlantic waters to the east.
The charity of a sympathetic café-owner, whose jargon-laden French challenged the normally reliable linguistic abilities of the pairs' translation devices, had garnished them with pastries and frosted glasses of thick iced coffee. The owners' tale of a trip to lands abroad where he found himself in a similar position seemed straightforward, but the dramatic conclusion, seemingly involving the benevolent interruption of a troupe of midget wrestlers left them doubting the capabilities of their translators.
Nura sipped her coffee, savouring a dollop of cream, and gazed out over the waters of the Mediterranean Sea. Their flight had taken them across the silent depths of the Atlantic, where both had been surprised to discover a shallow sea sparkling where their Omnicom had informed them that there could be found a stately rainforest. Fascinated by the discrepancy between that before them, and that described in their palm-sized data-store, the pair followed the sandy coast for a time, marvelling at the sights of early 21st century Spain and France, before a the rumbling of Nura's belly suggested a break in the travel. Their landing, in a city they later learned was entitled Nice, proved fortunate both in the views afforded of the sea, and the hospitality of the locals. She licked her lips free of froth and broke the peaceful silence that both had fallen into.
"When I was very small, my mother had a saying. 'Visions are like sunny days; wishing for them makes them come sooner nor faster.'" She took another sip. "But here is the sunny day, and yet," She paused, looking and those frolicking in the morning sun. "No vision to lead us onward."
Thom nodded. "And the kindness of strangers shall not sustain us forever. Time we either contacted Kara, and request the usage of her resources, or attempt some stratagem of our own. A message left for the Legion to discover, or some indication of our presence in this era."
"But that golden fellow - Waverider, his name was, I believe - he spoke of some form of restriction upon travel through time, or at least back to the period that we left. Who knows what could be happening to the Legion in our absence... and whether any message that we leave will reach them after one thousand years?"
Thom pushed his chair back slightly and picked a flake of the golden coating from his largely untouched pastry.
"Considering that a sea of this size could disappear between now and then, any message would have to be substantial to survive the passage of time. Perhaps we should consider something in space?"
Nura waved her hand at Thom dismissively. "Of course you'd say that. Any excuse for a starflight." She smiled. "And what kind of message wouldn't just float away or be sucked into a star?"
Thom blinked. "Or a black hole..."
"Exactly! We should leave a message with Kara and her Justice League, and-" She stopped, noticing Thom's faraway stare. "What are you thinking of?"
Before he could answer, Nura's mouth opened in a surprised circle, and her eyes widened. Thom tensed.
"Waverider!"
"Where?" Thom stood from the table, looking about with narrowed eyes, and casting forth his gravity sense in a search for the distinctive energy pattern of the enigmatic time-traveller. Both had encountered Waverider for the first time only hours previously, according to their point of view, even though the meeting was not due to take place for one thousand years. At the conclusion of that fateful meeting, Thom and Nura had been hurled one thousand years into the past, with no way of returning home. Their comrades, the youthful heroes and heroines of the Legion of Super-Heroes, had presumably been left safely in the year 3003.
Nura took Thom by the hand gently. "Sit down. You'll make a scene. I didn't mean he was here," She waved at the café and beachfront, "I meant he was here," the last was said with a tap at her temple. She smiled impishly. "I had a vision. This time at least I'll be on a level footing with that temporal troublemaker."
Thom sat slowly. "What did you see? Is he coming?"
"As a matter of fact, yes."
Thom waited, his unspoken query hanging pregnant in the air.
Nura continued, rather than force the question. "He'll be here shortly. You'll have time to finish that pastry."
Thom avoided her reproachful glance at his lean, somewhat gaunt frame, and took a bite of the pastry, emitting a hail of flakes that dusted the surfaces of both their cups. Nura blinked, unperturbed.
"And before Waverider joins us, I believe I shall have just enough time to investigate exactly how I manage to persuade our host to extend his charity to fresh cup of this delicious beverage."
Their eyes met, and for once Thom's embarrassed flush was a mere accompaniment to the smile they both shared.
In retrospect, Thom found one of the most disturbing elements of Waverider's contact with the time-lost Legionnaires not to be the time-traveller himself, or his appearance, or the information he had to impart. It was the people surrounding the meeting, but not their garb, or manner, or even their presence.
It was their eyes.
As Nura had foretold, Waverider appeared shortly afterward, as the noon sun sent the beachgoers fleeing for shade and suntan lotion as their tastes demanded. A dazzling spray of colour preceded his arrival, and the golden-skinned figure of Waverider somehow receded into view, bending the laws of time, perspective, and motion with his arrival. The busy café froze into immobility with his arrival, save for the wary Legionnaires. Waiters stood with delicate plumes of water frozen in arcs toward waiting patrons' glasses, passers-by caught in the simple act of walking seemed to balance precariously on heel or toe, and the rumbling crash of the ocean and chatter of those around was curtailed suddenly, replaced with a sub-audible hum from all directions. And everywhere, the eyes of those nearby were frozen in place, along with their bodies and minds. When Waverider's arrival had caught them with open eyes, or with eyes fully closed, Thom found no fault, but the somnambulistic stare of those who had been caught in mid-blink unnerved him. Their visage suggested a drugged, listless air that Thom recoiled mentally from, remembering the soma in which he soaked in his youth. He dragged his attention back to the conversation, which had become rather confusing.
"You're here to tell us that we any message we leave-"
"-will be erased by the ravages of time."
"And if we try to return to the point we left-"
"-your efforts will end in failure, as there has been erected-"
"A temporal barrier, yes. I think you're about to say that."
"-a temporal barrier, which will prevent your arrival."
"But you're going to say something about Thom, and a time loop of some sort?"
"There is indeed a casual discontinuity centred upon this young
mans' timeline. Events must progress-"
"In order for the loop to be closed. Of course."
The Seer and the Linear Man each paused for a moment, both in full cognisance of the others' knowledge of the entire, as yet unspoken, conversation, yet entrapped by the mundanity of actually having to carry it out. Thom stood at the side, watching the cool battle of wills, until both opened their mouths almost simultaneously.
"I suppose I'd better let you finish," said Nura, atop Waverider's simple "Yes." She sat down, calmly crossed her legs, and sipped at the remnants of her drink. At her nod, and Thom's powerless shrug, Waverider delivered his message. Towards the end, Thom interjected with a polite cough.
"My apologies, but I must speak my mind. It would seem, and pardon my bluntness, rather churlish to visit us only to command that we discontinue our efforts to return home, when it is clear that that task would be a simple for one of your powers." Thom tensed, ready for action, but Waverider's answer was as measured as the rest of his words had been.
"I act not only to direct you from unnecessary disappointment, but work to repair a temporal loop that has exists for some thousand years - the next thousand years. There are many such loops, and my responsibilities require me to seek their closure whenever possible, even should it require my direct intervention rather than a manipulation of 'background' causality."
"Seek not to deflect responsibility to a higher cause, when you're obviously-" Thom paused, as Nura raised a calming hand, alarmed at Thom's rising anger. She knew he possessed levels of blind rage that could prove potentially fatal to those around him; his lapse into contractions was a clear warning sign that his patience was waning.
"He means what he says, Thom. Let's trust him on this one. All he's saying is that we can't go back to when we left, and we can't leave a message. We're not trapped here." She smiled, hoping to mollify the Xanthuan Legionnaire, and was relieved to see he allowed Waverider to continue, albeit apparently under silent protest.
Waverider nodded once, the crackling mane of energy that covered his head throwing motes of light to the air. "All that is required is that certain events take place before your return can be effected. Once these events have come to pass, your return shall be a certainty."
"And how long may these tasks take?" said Thom, although the sudden knot in his stomach, and the image of a weighty tome, and a blade of utter darkness preceding a monolith of the same null shade that rose to haunt his mind anticipated his own unpleasant suspicions.
"They shall take-"
"-as long as they require," interrupted Nura, perfect features creasing with annoyance. "Thanks. We could've worked that out on our own. I think we have everything except the bit about-" She paused, unwilling to enter into another conversational round of precognitive against temporal manipulator.
"You should travel north, into the mountains. There you will find a hidden valley, long overlooked by those in the surrounding territory." Waverider continued for a short period, ending with a curt shared farewell. When he was gone, Nura never realised Thom's relieved sigh has less to do with the Linear Man's departure than the simple fact that those about had returned to regular motion, unaware of the events that had transpired, and, most importantly from Thom's perspective, commenced blinking normally.
-----PART 1 ENDS-----