Legion World Forums LEGION OUTPOST Bits o' Legionnaire Business "What You Will"--An Untold Tale of the Legion of Super-Heroes (COMPLETE!)

Whoa! OK, I'm officially hooked!

And me...

more more and more...

And me too This is great!

You mention Garth's cape so we know this takes place in the earlier days, I can't wait to see where you take this Korbal.

Very intriguing. Nice job!

I'm lovin' it! Keep it up Korbal!

Nice setup, Korbal! Shakespeare's "What you Will" is a perfect vehicle for the lightning twins -- cross dressing, gender identity confusion, partner swapping and other sexually-subversive Elizabethan mayhem... Plus, we get a murder mystery, too.

However, if Imra's gonna play a bigger role you might consider changing the title to "The Taming of the Shrew".

You have a great style of writing Korbal, a good grasp of the characters and how they interact - and a decent mystery too!! What more could a fan ask for?

More more more

Can't believe I didn't finish this--is there any interest out there for the ending?

Yes, finish it up, Korbal. I missed this story the first time around.

Get on with it already Korby

Unfortunately, the original document has been lost--it will take some time to reconstruct from memory. So here in one post is a revised version of what went on before...


"What You Will"--An Untold Tale of the Legion of Super-Heroes


Prologue:

Allon Residence: Metropolis: Earth

"Didn't I always maintain, Gim, my boy, that no one can prepare the ceremonial Seder meal quite like your mother?"

Colossal Boy nodded his assent, as he and two fellow Legion members, Lightning Lad and Chameleon Boy settled into the living area. "That you did sir, but it has been some time since you've shared one with us."

"Please, I'm merely your old 'Uncle' Caleb once more," recently retired United Planets Ambassador Isaacs, former emissary to the Cygnus Confederation, raised his hand in a cutting motion. "Although I must confess that I am gratified the final disposition of my diplomatic duties on Politor coincided with the correct time of year." He smiled. "Not to mention the serendipitous fact that you three fine young men were assigned to be my security detail."

"Thank you Ambassador," Lightning Lad nodded. "We were honored to be of service."

"Tell me my new friends--how did you find our traditional cultural fare?"

"It was certainly--different," observed Lightning Lad.

"Yeah," Chameleon Boy gingerly patted the area of his body that currently housed his digestive organs. "That is a more than an apt enough description."

Isaacs laughed. "And here I was under the impression that Legionnaires were capable of handling any situation..."

"Oh, don't tease the boys, Caleb," Wynn Allon chided as he entered the area with his wife. "Personally, I've found the endeavors of Gim and his comrades to be quite admirable."

"Yes," Marte Allon concurred. "And after all, they did manage to deliver you back home in one piece."

"Despite the deadly antics of a trio of Khannian Death squads," Isaacs affirmed with a wry expression. "Watching Gim and his teammates subdue my assailants, I was reminded of similar efforts made on my behalf by a certain young Ensign also named Allon--"

Wynn Allon cleared his throat loudly. “Say Caleb, didn't you mention earlier an urgent need to catch up with your vast accumulation of correspondence? Besides, I'm sure rehashing our old war stories would only bore the boys." He nudged his chin slightly. "You can access the terminal in the den for privacy."

Easily discerning his host's unsubtle hint, Isaacs arose. "A fine idea, Wynn." He strode over and kissed Marte Allon's proffered hand. "Thank you for a wonderful repast, my old friends. Have a pleasant evening, all," he stated before slipping into the other room.

It has been a tiring day, boys." Marte Allon stifled a yawn. "If you don't mind, my husband and I are retiring early tonight."

"Of course not, Professor, Admiral." Cham bowed.

"Good night, boys." Wynn Allon led his wife towards their room. "And don't you dare disturb Ambassador Isaacs--understood?"

"Yes, Dad."

"Hmm." Cham's antennae were twitching. "What's the story between your parents and the Ambassador?"

"He kind of brought them together. He was Mom's academic advisor at Metropolis University, and when he received his diplomatic appointment he invited her to lead his personal staff. My Dad was a junior security officer aboard the ISHBOSETH, the vessel assigned to ferry them on their mission to the Taltar Matriarchy. According to my folks, they were 'slightly sidetracked' by a fleet of Grotan raiders." Gim shrugged. "Three months later--they were married."

"'Slightly sidetracked?'" Cham repeated dubiously. "Come on, they must have said more than that."

"That's all they've ever said--apparently everything else about how they met is still considered to be classified information."

"A mystery for another time, guys." Garth glanced at his watch. "Officially, we are off-duty as of thirty-two minutes ago--what do you feel like doing?"

Cham stroked his chin. "Cosmic Boy is hosting the Subs at the Clubhouse tonight--he's prepared a presentation of the highlights of the Rygor Law Enforcement Convention."

Garth produced a pack of cards from his cape's pouch. "Are you guys up for a three handed game of Fizzbin?"

"Sorry." Gim shook his head and procured the remote to the holo-set. "But the 'Colonizers' is on in twelve minutes--count me out." He casually splayed himself across the couch with eager anticipation.

Garth and Reep shared a quick look. Faced with the prospect of spending an evening with the Legion of Substitute Heroes or watching an episode of a soap opera neither had ever even heard of before, they come to the same conclusion. "Scoot over, Gim." They said in unison, roughly shoving their teammate from opposite sides.

Several minutes later, an engrossed Gim Allon finally realized his glove was beeping. He retrieved the Legion communicator secreted within and activated it. "Colossal Boy here."

"This is Brainiac Five. Could you halt whatever computer activity you are now engaging in? I'm at a delicate stage in my current project and require every bit of computation power possible--"

"Brainy, I'm not using my computer--"

"Computer allocation logs identify your access codes--"

"Wait a sec, Brainy." Gim turned to Cham. "The Ambassador must have accidently got into my database. Could you explain things to him?"

"Sure." After migrating his mouth to the palm of his right hand, the Durlan extended it towards the den and knocked on the portal. "Mister Ambassador? Pardon the interruption, but--yeeowch!!" Cham screamed as a energy bolt struck his hand.

Instantly on the alert, Gim sprang for the door. "Brainy--emergency! Cham's been wounded--send some back-up to my home immediately!" He glanced to where Garth was attending to a whimpering Cham. "How is he?"

"It's a severe burn and he's probably lasping into a state of shock," Garth wrapped the injured limb in strips from his cape. "But Reep should be all right--"

"What's going on here!" Wynn Allon demanded.

"Get down, Dad!" Gim grew enough for his arms to reach his father. "Uncle Caleb just shot Cham!"

"That's impossible!"

"We beg to differ." Garth gently placed his friend down. He quickly glanced about the room. "Gim is there enough space for you to grow large enough to knock the door down from your current position?"

Gim nodded. "I think so."

"Then do it--I'm going in." He rolled across the floor until he reached a point almost directly in front of the doorway. "Now!" he cried. Instants after Gim's huge red glove smashed through the entryway, Lightning Lad burst inside. He discovered Caleb Isaacs furiously typing one-handed on the keyboard in front of him. "Drop your weapon, Mister Ambassador, and step away from the computer."

"No, no," Isaacs objected frantically. "I'm not finished yet--you have to let me finish--"

"Caleb?" Wynn Allon and his son also entered the den. "What's going on here, old friend?"

"Can't finish," Isaacs mumbled. "Must enact secondary objectives..." With that he fired at the computer, and swiftly pressing the barrel of the weapon against his own skull, pulled the trigger for a final time.

"Uncle Caleb!" Gim cried as he and his father surged forward. Together the Allons cradled the
form of their fallen friend. "Why did he do it?"

Garth put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I don't know, Gim, but believe me, we're going to find out." He took in all the carnage about them. "That's a promise."


Act I "All The Galaxy's A Stage..."

Main Lab, Legion Clubhouse:

"Well, Brainy?"

"Not particularly," Brainiac Five retorted flippantly, while inspecting a charred portion of what was once a piece of the Allons' former mainframe. "I find the incessant interruptions of my own projects due to my catering to the prosaic whims of my teammates, quite disruptive to my mental well-being and ultimately I suspect, to my health in general."

Garth moved swiftly to step between the Coluan and Colossal Boy who seemed more than willing to give instant credence to their haughty comrade's suspicion. "Spare us your particular brand of aloof sarcasm, Brainy--remember a man has died."

"Yes," Brainy grew somber. "That does place a greater measure of importance on this matter." He returned to his probing. "How is Chameleon Boy?"

"Better," Gim crossed his arms over his torso. "The doctors at the Medi-Center were worried that he wouldn't be able to regenerate his vocal tissues, but they began to heal after a fourth dimensional implantation of a microgram of energite. They expect Reep to fully recover within a week."

"How unexpected."

"Not really--energite can pretty much do anything--"

"No, not that." Brainy turned to face Gim. "Did you realize that with your own access to Legion files, plus your father's military and governmental connections, combined with your mother's various ties to both academic and private sectors, your family's combined database was a veritable nexus of information?"

Gim appeared skeptical. "Not really."

"Well I should, have," Brainy pursed his lips with a grim expression. "I should have added greater security protocols to your system. In retrospect, the unique network located at your home was an obvious target."

"Target?" Gim glanced at Garth who merely shrugged. "Target for what?"

"Why espionage, of course."

"It that what Uncle Caleb--Ambassador Isaacs--was doing, downloading sensitive information?"

Brainy nodded. "Downloading and transmitting. However the late Ambassador did an extremely thorough job in ensuring that the ultimate destination of his data stream could never be
traced." He placed the burnt computer parts down. "That is all I can determine from the available physical evidence."

"What about the forensic reports on Ambassador Isaacs' body?" Lightning Lad rapped on the nearby monitor which he assumed displayed the data in question.

"Nothing worthy of note." Brainiac Five leaned over and perused the screen. "Subject died from a self-inflicted energy discharge to the temple, resulting in instant death. No mechanical, pathogenic, or pharmaceutical agents were detected." He scrolled through the data without much interest. "Other than the testimonials of yourselves and Admiral Allon that Isaacs acted in a bizarre manner, there are zero indicators to dispute an official finding of suicide."

"No," Gim shook his head sadly. "We cannot let the name of Caleb Isaacs be remembered in such an ignoble fashion--there must be something that you missed Brainy--something crucial--"

"If there is," Brainiac Five frowned. "You're more than welcome to find it for yourself."

Gim started forward, but halted biting his lip. "I've got to go," he stated softly. "Dad and I are sitting shiva for Uncle Caleb starting tonight." He turned and slowly walked off.

Garth watched his friend depart with a heavy heart. Knowing he had to do something, a germ of an idea began to form. "Brainy, you can pretty much access any information in the universe you want from this computer terminal--right?"

"That would be well within the realm of possibility."

"Start a data search--for situations matching this paradigm--a prominent being suddenly perishes or disappears after a theft, security breach, or other kind of unexplained incident." Brainy began typing swiftly. "Limit the results to the past five years."

"Including Ambassador Isaacs, three hundred and eighty," Brainy raised an eyebrow. "What now?"

"Cross reference travel records for these people for that same amount of time--what is the single destination--excluding Earth, Mars, and Politor–with the highest correlation?"

It took Brainiac Five a few moments to design a program to fulfill the requested criteria.
"Three hundred and twenty-five did visit the same world within forty-four months of their demise."

"Which planet?"

"Verbapotens–the Bard's Globe."

"Brainy, I think we've found a place to start."


Meeting Room, Legion Clubhouse:

"You want to do what?"

Garth smirked a bit, enjoying the baffled expression on the Legion leader's, Saturn Girl, exquisite features, as she read the mission proposal he had just handed her. "As the report says, I have concluded that the next step in the Isaacs investigation is a trip to Verbapotens--"

"The Bard's Globe," Saturn Girl crossed her arms.

"That is the more colloquial name--"

"One of the most famous places in the galaxy--an entire world dedicated to the preservation of live performance as an art form--attracting billions of sentient visitors annually?"

"I outlined my reasoning--"

She shook her head. "Ridiculous. Besides," she slid the pad back across the table. "There is no investigation. Ambassador Isaacs' death has officially been ruled a suicide." She arose to leave.

"Imra, wait," Garth swiftly captured her hand, drawing her back to her seat.

In fact, that had been the first time Garth had called Imra by her given name in weeks. Their personal relationship had always been complicated--from the very first instant they had met. There had been times when Garth had been absolutely certain that they were on the verge of developing something deeper, but each time to his constant consternation, no changes were ever forthcoming. The most frustrating instance of that nature had been when Garth had procured a promise from Imra that they would explore their mutual feelings once her term as Legion leader expired. Yet when that moment finally arrived, Saturn Girl promptly secured a second term. As of late, both had been treating the other rather coolly. On Garth's part, it stemmed from the unexpected lack of faith Imra had displayed during Garth's ploy to keep the Concentrator from the clutches of the ruthless Time Trapper. Of all the Legionnaires, Garth had been sure that she would have detected his ruse. However, Imra had instead accepted that Garth could not be trusted, and had been fully prepared to incarcerate him for the rest of his life. Even now, the sting of that betrayal remained as sharp as ever. Imra's distancing of herself, had started even before that misadventure.

"What? Why does this matter so much to you?"

"I was there--It happened on my watch. Believe me when I tell you--something unnatural was affecting the man." He locked their gazes together. "I--we owe it to Gim, the Allon family, and the memory of Caleb Isaacs, to determine precisely what that something was."

Eventually, she looked away with a sigh and slipped her hand free. "How would you initiate this hypothetical investigation?"

Garth smiled. "That the easy part. I--or rather my sister and I--have been extended an open invitation to visit and actually perform on stage on Verbapotens. Years ago, on Winath, we both took a special class entitled 'Twins in Shakespearean Works.' It was taught by a visiting guest instructor, Professor Vade Crimway, who has since become the Planetary Director of Verbapotens."

"You--" Saturn Girl snickered. "--an actor?"

"Well, I admit I wasn't particularly stellar material," Garth shrugged. "But Ayla was. She was by far the most talented in our class. Director Crimway sent us the invitation about three weeks after I recovered from Zaryan's freeze ray."

Saturn Girl glanced through the request once more. "Your suppositions are rather shaky. For example, Earth has a higher percentage among the spots visited by these alleged victims."

"Yes, but more a dozen beings on that list never traveled to Earth, but did attend a performance on the Bard's Globe," Garth responded.

"What would you even be looking out for?"

"I can't really say," Garth admitted. "But I'm reasonably certain I'll know it when I see it."

Saturn Girl pursed her lips. "If I agree to this, you must know that in no way is this an official Legion mission: you and your sister are merely accepting a long standing invitation from an old friend--anything else is your own personal business."

"Great--I'll go tell Ayla the news."

"No--go to the Communications Room and finalize your arrangements with Director Crimway. I will inform your sister of her role in this non-operation. She is not to be apprised of your suspicions, unless you uncover solid proof."

Garth frowned. He had noticed that as Imra was drawing away from him, she did seem to be becoming closer to his sister. "All right. I guess Ayla deserves the opportunity to enjoy herself."

"Oh, and Lightning Lad?"

"Yes?"

Saturn Girl flashed a brilliant smile. "Be sure to break a leg."

Three Days Later
Legion Cruiser 5; En route to Verbapotens:

"--and I still can't believe Saturn Girl wouldn't let any other Legionnaires attend our performances." Ayla Ranzz pouted as she slid into the co-pilot chair. "A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and none of our friends will be there to share it with us."

"Be happy she let us go at all."

Ayla shrugged. "Actually I was more surprised when she told me that you'd agreed to the whole thing in the first place--after all Director Crimway initially made the offer some months ago."

"I felt like a change of pace," Garth prevaricated. "Besides, Crimway pledged to donate forty-five percent of the proceeds to the Winathian Orphans Foundation, as an extra inducement." Garth looked at his sister askance. "I can't believe you requested we portray the Antipholus brothers from 'A Comedy of Errors.'"

"I think I quite aptly proved that I can play a male convincingly," Ayla replied with a smug expression. "In Shakespeare's time men played female roles--we're simply evolving with the times."

"Right," Garth observed dubiously. He tapped a few controls. "Were receiving landing clearances from the capital city, Nova Avon--preparing for planet fall in three minutes."

"Nova Avon," Ayla mused to herself with a giggle. "First time I can recall ever visiting a palindrome."

Garth shook his head. "You've been spending far too much time around Brainy..."


The Globe of the Bard Theatre; Nova Avon; Verbapotens:

"--and this, of course, is the stage you will be performing on, the most venerated venue on the entire planet. It was painstakingly designed to present authentic Elizabethan dramatic productions." Director Crimway led the Ranzz siblings forward. "Rehearsals will commence tomorrow, I, naturally have taken it upon myself to personally direct both plays the two of you will take part in."

"How are the tickets sales doing?" Asked Ayla.

"Outstanding," Crimway nodded with a smile. "Both Saturday's 'The Comedy of Errors,' and Sunday's 'Twelfth Night' completely sold out after it was announced that you two would be starring in them in your dramatic debuts. You cannot imagine the quality of talent which clamored to join the cast for this historic weekend." He shot Garth a sly smile. "I dare say, Lightning Lad, that you in particular will enjoy your co-star..."

Director Crimway led the Legionnaire siblings backstage, to the a large rehearsal area. Within, various beings were milling about. The Director explained that these were the cast and crew of their productions. Sitting at a table set in the center of the room were a small group of people.

"And these magnificent talents, along with yourselves, of course, comprise the core of our stellar cast. May I present fellow Winathian thespians, Zak and Kale Prendo, who will play the Dromio twins, as well as Antonio and Sir Toby Belch respectively."

Garth and Ayla exchanged nods with the pair. The Prendo twins had long been considered the finest actors Winath had ever produced.

"Kylina Bizroy, who will be both Adriana and Maria." The petite brunette waved a quick greeting. "Finally, we were profoundly fortunate in gaining the participation of both of these renowned luminaries, who truly need no introductions--Coriolanus Burton, who will bring our Dukes, Solinus and Orsino to life. And last but certainly not least, Athena Amore, who will perform Luciana and Olivia opposite your Antipholus and Sebastian, Garth."

Lightning Lad was impressed--these were among the most celebrated beings in the galaxy.

Burton swiftly arose and quickly shook Garth's hand before smoothly scooping up Ayla's and pressing it to his lips. "I can't tell you both how wonderful it is to meet you both." He flashed a brilliant smile. "And how eagerly I anticipate working with you... both."

"I echo that sentiment," cooed the raven-haired Athena, who had somehow arisen and had moved to stand next to Garth without his notice. "I can hardly wait to see how well we perform together." She draped her arms over Garth's neck. "Nice cape--I like it."

"Thanks," Garth muttered attempting to disentangle himself without much success.

Crimway clapped his hands. "All right feel free to mingle and get to know everyone. There are refreshments in the back." He began to stride away. "Remember people--Rehearsals begin at 7:30 tomorrow morning! No excuses."

After extricating himself from his co-star Garth joined Ayla as they moved about the room meeting the stage crew and the rest of the cast. Yet he was acutely aware of the extreme interest Athena Amore was showing towards him. Garth sensed her gaze following his every move. Thus he was not surprised as towards the end of the evening, he felt Athena's enticing arms slip behind him and her sultry voice whispering an invitation in his ear.

"I appreciate the offer to rehearse our scenes in your dressing room, Athena," Garth feigned a yawn. "But its been a long day--"

"What's the matter, Legionnaire? Are you afraid of little old me?" Garth began shaking his head in bemusement. "Or perhaps I'm simply not saturnine enough for your tastes," she purred.

Garth face began to feel warm. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means a have a pretty good idea why you are so reluctant to play with me," she drew closer. "Don't worry I won't tell a soul."

Lightning Lad tilted his head slightly with a smirk. "This is truly a pathetic attempt to manipulate me, Miss Amore."

"Correction," she clung to his arm. "I am manipulating you--it is your awareness of how deeply you perceive my efforts which is in question."

"Really?" Garth countered dubiously.

"Why yes," Athena smiled mischievously. "For example, I know the real reason why you are here on Verbapotens."

"My sister and I are merely indulging in an offer made by an old friend--nothing more."

"Foolish me," Athena pouted innocently. "I was under the impression that you were seeking to establish a connection between The Bard's Globe and the untimely death of Ambassador Isaacs."

Stunned, Garth dragged the actress to a more secluded area. "Where would you get a ludicrous notion such as that?"

She leaned forward to whisper into his ear. "Come into my dressing room and find out."

Garth looked about warily before giving a curt nod. "Lead the way."

It was a short walk to Athena Amore's dressing room. After they entered, she made her way to the large mirror set atop her dressing table. "That Saturn Girl of yours is really quite an impressive person is she not?" Athena asked, as she primped her hair.

"She's quite a capable Leader," Garth replied, not responding to the baited comment.

"Oh, I'm certain she is." She turned and gently caressed Garth's cheek. "Just not a particularly warm individual," she leaned closer. "Is she?"

Garth caught her hands. "I didn't come here to discuss the Legion's leader."

She pulled Garth closer to her. "Then why don't we get to know each other better, Legionnaire? It's not as if she has any reason much less right to get jealous..."

"Good night Miss Amore," Garth released her and turned for the door. He was about to depart, when the sound of her laughter made him stop.

"She really has you wrapped around her finger, doesn't she?"

Unconsciously, Garth fists began to crackle with energy. "That is none of your concern."

"Calm down, Legionnaire." Athena smirked. "Access code: Torr Verdant Veldt." The mirror began to shimmer until the image of an older man clad in blue became visible.

"Chief Kolar?" A baffled Garth identified.

"Lightning Lad," acknowledged the leader of the Interstellar Counter-Intelligence Corps. "Am I to assume by your presence that the Legion also suspects a link between the suspicious deaths of several prominent sentients and Verbapotens?"

Garth crossed his arms over his chest. "How do I know that you are the real Paltins Kolar?"

"Give my regards to Proty II, and remind him the ICC owes him a favor."

That was enough to convince Garth. "I'm here purely on my own--not even my sister knows why I'm really here. A program designed by Brainiac Five detected a more than eighty percent correlation between the cases of mysterious deaths and visits to the Bard's Globe."

Kolar nodded. "Had you thought to include relatives and close associates, it rises to ninety-eight percent. But while that is an alarming statistic, it is not concrete evidence. The ICC has maintained a discreet presence on this planet for the past thirty months without uncovering anything at all. However, Agent Torr and I suspect that you and your sister's arrival may precipitate some sort of action."

"Why?"

"You personally witnessed the 'suicide' of Caleb Isaacs," Athena reminded Garth. "And less than a week later you decide to visit the Bard's Globe. If there is a malignant force at work here, odds are fairly high that you have caught our unknown opponent's attention."

Garth felt a measure of vindication that an agency such as the ICC had confirmed his theories. "What else can you tell me?" Garth shrugged. "After all, I've only been working on this case for less than a week, and your organization has a least a few years head start."

"Then I take it that you and Agent Torr have agreed to work together?"

Garth glanced at Athena, who coyly blew him a kiss. "There will be a level of cooperation," Garth prevaricated. "But that goes both ways."

"From approximately the same time as the first mysterious deaths began, there have been rumors of a shadowy elusive figure for which no information, regardless of how sensitive, is beyond reach--a galactic secrets broker known only as the Confider. The clientele range amidst many species and political powers."

"And this 'Confider' has sold data supposedly only known among our alleged list of victims?"

"We have uncovered some documentation of that, among the former buyers the ICC have captured. Yet we still have no clue to our foe's identity."

"'The Confider'" Garth murmured to himself, finally having found a focus for his rage. "How am I to contact you?"

"Simply inform Agent Torr. Kolar out." The mirror resumed its former normal sheen.

"'Agent Torr?'"

"Terri Torr of Naltor, Athena Amore is my stage name."

"Torr," Garth mused. "The second most prominent family on your planet."

"Oh, that's right, you've met Nura." Athena smiled wickedly. "She told me that she changed your diaper once--she was quite impressed."

Garth winced. "If you are quite done Agent Torr, I would prefer to resume this banter tomorrow."

"Wait a moment," she easily slipped into his arms and pecked his cheek. "No man can leave my dressing room without wearing my mark." She looked at her handiwork with pride. "After all I have a reputation to uphold." She opened her door to reveal a virtual flood of reporters outside.

Seeing the crowd Garth suddenly drew Athena into his arms and gave her a passionate lingering kiss. "I understand," he whispered into her ear before releasing her. "We all have images to maintain." He left, leaving several ecstatic holo-operators and stunned reporters in his wake.

Agent Terri Torr quickly retreated behind her door. Yes, she thought, still feeling Garth's lips against hers, Lightning Lad was definitely a Legionnaire she could enjoy cooperating with...

Act II "And the Legionnaires Merely Players..."

Recreation Area, Legion Clubhouse:

“I’ ve always suspected that Garth was a method actor,” quipped Sun Boy, as he, Cosmic Boy, Element Lad, and Ultra Boy scrutinized the latest issue of ‘The Intergalactic Eye’ that was being projected on the holo-viewer. It prominently displayed an image of their teammate and his sultry co-star caught in a romantic embrace. Dirk adopted a mock scholarly mien. “Observe the gentle tilt of the neck, the firm, yet unthreatening placement of the hands, and the perfect amount of coverage area upon the lips–all in all, a splendid, and quite impressive display of technique.”

Ultra Boy jiggled the control which activated the zoom function. “Lucky stiff.”

“‘Collision Betwixt Lightning And Love--Legionnaire Lightning Lad and Starlet Athena Amore: The Galaxy’s Most Electrifying New Super Couple?’ A little premature, don’t you think,” Element Lad opined after reading the headline aloud. “It’s only one kiss, after all.”

“It has got to be fake--some kind of publicity stunt,” Cosmic Boy insisted with a scowl. “I’ve known Garth forever--he is utterly incapable of falling out of love this completely so quickly.”

“Speaking of which,” Ultra Boy dropped his voice into a conspiratorial snicker of a whisper. “Anyone else wonder what our fearless leader will have to say when she catches sight of this–”

“The same statement I reiterated repeatedly quite succinctly to the two hundred and forty-seven so-called ‘journalists’ who clogged up all our commlines this morning: ‘No comment.’” Saturn Girl entered with an expression lightyears beyond annoyance etched in her features. “By the way, my feminine curiosity is piqued. Exactly who is it that has fallen out of love with whom?”

“Yeah. Well we’ll be seeing you, Saturn Girl--” Cosmic Boy abetted by Sun Boy, roughly dragged their suddenly ultra tongue-tied friend away. “–by sheer coincidence, we promised that we would all drop in and visit Cham later at the Medi-Center for a few minutes. Right, U-Boy?”

“Right. Droppin’ Cham. Later.” Ultra Boy mumbled as they made their escape.

“Then when you pick him back up, be sure to give him my regards.” Saturn Girl called after them. She looked at the hologram and shook her head, noting with derision which particular assets of Athena Amore had been featured in the magnification. “Boys,” she hissed through clenched teeth. She whirled around after discerning a polite cough. “Element Lad?”

“Cos is probably right. It is probably just some ploy to sell more tickets.”

“Both performances sold out before they even stepped foot on The Bard’s Globe.”

“Ahh well anyway-- I can see why this bothers you so–”

“I am not affected by this garbage-mongering rag in the least.”

Jan Arrah shifted his head from side to side. “May I tell you something, in confidence?”

She let out a tired sigh. “If you feel you must.”

“When we first met, when you helped me join the Legion, you were dead--inside. You were so joyless and well saturnine, I initially thought that was what your name meant. Some of the others even called you the ‘Ice Queen,’ and I believed they were right at the time. But I later decided sh--they were wrong. When you and the others revived Lightning Lad on Korbal--you became fully alive too...” He shook his head. “But that’s a topic of conversation you and Garth really should have fully explored between yourselves by now. So I understand what you’re feeling.”

“As I said before, none of this is of any concern to me.”

“Perhaps,” the former Mystery Lad conceded with a shrug. “But as they say on Verbapotens: ‘the lady doth protest too much, me thinks.’” He sped out to catch up with the others.

Saturn Girl stared intently at the frozen image for several long moments. Suddenly with a wild inarticulate cry she drove her fist downward through the hologram, deactivating the console with far more force than was necessary. The resultant impact was certainly not conducive to the to the structural integrity of the device, much less that of her own hand. Imra Ardeen tasted the dribble of blood from her clenched fingers, and knew that at that precise moment in time, she could honestly avow that the being she abhorred the most in the entire universe was Garth Ranzz.


Dining Pavilion, Stratford Upon Nova Avon Inn; Verbapotens:

“Well, well, well,” Ayla brought a full plate of various breakfast foodstuffs to the table her brother had claimed. “Haven’t you been a busy busy boy.” She noted Garth’s disheveled appearance with a wink. “I trust you had a repro–I mean productive evening last night.”

Oblivious to the state of his hair and clothing, Garth only made an inquisitive grunt as he downed the last of his meal with a long draught of Kono juice. In truth, having verified that each alleged victim had attended a performance held at The Globe of the Bard Theatre, he had spent most of the night inspecting the entire premises--from the seating areas, to the myriad of corridors, and each and every room he could find. Finally, he centered on the stage and the array of catwalks above, but could not find anything out of the ordinary. Exhausted, he sought out his guest accommodation, the Hamnet Cottage (Ayla had been given the Judith) and had spent a restless two hours squirming in bed. After getting up, he had instinctively followed the aromas that promised food and unthinkingly consumed a delicious complimentary breakfast in a groggy daze.

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.” She pulled out a cylinder she had tucked under her arm and playfully bopped him on the head before laying it down flat. It was a hard copy of ‘The Intergalactic Eye.’ She tapped the cover photo. “Are you claiming that this is not you sucking the last breath of life out of that poor defenseless superstar’s voluptuous body?”

Garth chortled at the sight of the encounter he had staged with Agent Torr’s unwitting, yet not completely unwilling help. “Oh that–it was really nothing. Athena and I were just swept up in the heat of the moment–you kinda had to be there.”

“Gross! I’m kinda glad I wasn’t there to witness it live. The picture alone is making me a bit queasy,” she teased, rolling the paper back up. “But dearest brother dear, that was hardly ‘nothing.’ That was most definitely something.” She picked up a sweetberry truffle garganza and took a dainty bite. “Of course, the real question everyone will want answered is which villa did that heated moment ultimately sweep the pair of you to, hers or yours?”

For a moment, Garth considered telling her the entire convoluted truth. How he had covertly finagled their sojourn to Verbapotens to search out an elusive figure he subsequently discovered was known only as the Confider, who for an as-of-yet-to-be-determined number of years, had in some enigmatic, sinister manner, subverted hundreds of notable personages, from throughout the known galaxy, into divulging their most valuable secrets, before driving them to commit apparent suicides--all seemingly undetected and with total impunity. But, he decided Ayla’s blissful demeanor from being treated as virtual royalty on The Bard’s Globe, was far too deserved to dispel. Besides, having the ICC provide a name for his nemesis, probably did not constitute the ‘solid proof’ requirement Saturn Girl had decreed. Still, his sister expected a response. “Excuse me,” he snatched the tube and smartly rapped her head with it. “When did you start aspiring to become a reporter for compilations of muck like this?” With a graceful arc, he deftly speared the offensive reading material into a nearby disposal bin. “Good riddance.”

“You’re not excused--and hey! That was mine.”

“Well you know where to find it.” Garth arose and plopped the messy scraps of his breakfast into the same container. “Exactly where it belongs, strewn in with the rest of the trash.”

“You owe me for that issue you’ve now ruined.”

“It was free, like everything else for the rest of our stay.”

“Whatever,” she stuck out her tongue. “You do realize that you’ve splattered greasy globs of gunk on a cover which featured you--in effect--you just soiled yourself,” she nodded smugly. "Ha!"

“Mayhaps, I deserveth that fate, dear sib,” Garth gave a brief flamboyant bow, with a guilt tinged grimace. “I’ll see you at rehearsals.” He left, leaving Ayla to leisurely finish her meal in peace.


The Globe of the Bard Theatre:

Garth arrived backstage to the sound of thunderous ovation. “Traditionally, isn’t this kind of reception reserved for the end of a performance?” He enquired when the clapping and whistling of the crowd of stage hands gathered there finally abated.

“Bravo, the Legionnaire is modest as well.” Coriolanus Burton stepped forward and clasped his arm. “My boy, don’t you have any inkling of what a tremendous feat you have accomplished?”

“I merely climbed upon the stage and exited stage right,” he pointed his finger in the opposite direction. “Or it that stage left--I always get the two confused.”

“No, no, friend,” Kale Prendo shook his head vehemently. “Not your simple actions of moments ago, but the stellar achievement for which all our male brethren shall venerate you forever--” His twin, Zak, dramatically unfurled a copy of ‘The Intergalactic Eye’ for all to see. A round of laughter ensued. “–the Taming of the Greatest Shrew the Galaxy has Ever Known!.”

If only that were true. Garth kept that wistful desire to himself, as an unbidden imago of a certain blond telepath came into his thoughts. “You can’t be serious--”

“Oh yes,” Zak nodded quickly with excitement. “You will become more famous than ever--”

“Renowned,” Garth corrected.

“What?” Kale asked, as the rest of the mostly male stage crew returned to their various duties. Soon, only Burton and the Prendo brothers remained by Lightning Lad.

“Members of the Legion of Super-Heroes, strive for renown, rather than fame.”

Burton had a puzzled expression on his visage. “I don’t understand. Why would Legionnaires bother to quibble over such trivial semantic terminology?”

“Renown is earned, imbued with positive attributes and endures,” Garth explained. “Fame is freely given, ambiguous, fleeting and far too commonly degenerates into infamy.” He shrugged. “As a close friend of mine once noted: ‘Any imbecile with a pea-shooter can find fame, however, attaining and maintaining renown requires a far more potent weapon--ingenuity.’”

“I never thought of it in that way,” Zak scratched his head.

“Thinking is what that particular friend does best.”

“Ah, but what do you think of this?” Burton snatched the tabloid and held it before Garth’s face.

Lightning Lad twisted his mouth perplexedly. “I really wouldn’t know what to even say.”

“Start with the more lurid details,” Burton suggested with a prurient leer.

Garth glanced at the older man askance, and resolved to do his utmost to ensure that Ayla spent as a little time as possible with her overly salacious co-star.

“Oh, act your age, Cory,” Kale shook his index finger in a disapproving fashion. “Are we not all gentlemen here? Such crude and lewd innuendos diminish the dignity of all.”

“Still,” Zak lowered his voice. “Should you ever feel the need to unburden yourself of such matters, we three can be rather discreet, thus any of us would be quite amenable to serving you as a--”

“Confider?” Garth stated in a deliberate challenge. He scanned each of their faces intently.

“‘Confider?’” Kale scowled. “Is that even a proper word these days?”

“I believe the lad meant to say ‘confidant,’ or possibly ‘confessor,’” Burton proclaimed with a hint of a sneer. “Perhaps that is yet another vocabulary quandary the Legion intends to correct.”

Garth joined in the eruption of laughter at his expense. None of them had even flinched at his unsubtle ploy. But then again, he hardly expected exposing the Confider would be a simple task

“Darling!” Garth was abruptly spun around into Athena Amore’s intoxicating lips. “There you are.” She playfully rubbed their noses together. “You weren’t this hard to locate last night.”

“What do you think you are doing?” Garth demanded in a harsh whisper. He reddened slightly as he spotted Ayla standing behind them, silently mouthing the words ‘nothing, huh?’ She also appeared to trembling, utterly failing in her half-hearted attempt to stifle a giggling fit.

“Maintaining the cover you so rudely thrust upon me,” Agent Torr responded, as she nuzzled his ear. “Besides this establishes a plausible excuse to spend more time alone together in order to facilitate our cooperative liaison.” A large number of sentients began to collect around them.

“People!” The Planetary Director sharply clapped his hands together once. Several assistants, arms laden down with booklets, stood behind him. “If we can dispense with the public displays of affection,” he glared at Garth and Athena, who promptly stepped apart from each other. “Thank you. For those who may not know, I am Vade Crimway, the director, and we are now officially commencing our simultaneous twin productions of the Immortal Bard, William Shakespeare’s ‘The Comedy of Errors.’ and ‘Twelfth Night Or What You Will.’” The underlings began weaving amongst the cast and crew. “Scripts are now being distributed. Make certain you procure only the ones inscribed with your own names. Primary cast members report to Wardrobe for costume fittings. Then proceed to Make-up for initial cosmetic tests. First read throughs will promptly begin at 11:00--I strongly advise you not be late. Department heads, follow me. All right people--lets get these shows on the road!” He strode determinedly away, as a veritable entourage of stagecraft artisans struggled to keep up with his rapid pace.

Garth thumbed through the scripts emblazoned with ‘Lightning Lad’ on the cover sheets. As he expected, his lines were clearly delineated in blue. He was fairly well acquainted with the stories as they were easily the most popular Shakespearean plays on Winath. His role as Antipholus of Syracuse in ‘Comedy of Errors’ was slightly heavier than Ayla’s as Antipholus of Ephesus, but in ‘Twelfth Night,’ his Sebastian, was so dwarfed by her Viola/Cesario, that it was virtually a cameo. Without a doubt, Light Lass would be the star Legionnaire attraction of the weekend.

“Would you permit me to escort you to the Wardrobe Department, young lady?” Burton offered his arm to Ayla. “It would not do to have our special guest star get herself lost now, would it?”

“That’s very kind, Mister Burton--”

“Please, call me Coriolanus, or even better, just Cory.”

“All right, Cory then, but I must decline your kind offer. Director Crimway instructed me to head for the Make-Up area first, to have them design a faux torso for me to wear as Antipholus and Cesario. I told him I had brought the one I wore when I pretended I was Garth, but he wanted me to wear one as up-to-date as possible.”

“Well in that case,” from the eagerness reflected in his eyes, Burton was clearly imagining himself personally encasing a topless Ayla in some mold-mixing slather. “I must insist you let me lead you to the Make-up Department instead then--”

“Actually Cory,” Athena took a firm grip of Ayla’s wrist. “I’ve just been dying for a chance to bend Light Lass’ ear--to plumb all the family secrets as it were. So I will take her to Make-up.”

“Then allow me to accompany you lovely ladies--”

“As a matter of fact, I’m the one who needs your help. I had no idea where the Wardrobe section is in this place,” Garth proclaimed despite the fact that he had made a thorough search of the entire venue only hours before. “I must depend on you to lead me to the proper location.”

“As you said, Cory, it simply would not do to have our special guest stars get lost,” reminded Athena.

“Quite right,” Burton stalked off without looking back. “This way, Legionnaire.”

“Later, girls,” Garth waved and bounded after the retreating figure.

“Farewell, Garthy, till we meet again.” cooed Athena.

“‘Garthy,’” Ayla repeated in a dubious tone.

“My pet name for him. He absolutely despises ‘Sparky.’”

Ayla chuckled as Athena slung a companionable arm over her shoulders. “Now that I can believe.”

Act III "For Who So Firm... That Cannot Be Seduced?"

Hamnet Cottage; Stratford Upon Nova Avon Inn:

“Well Garthy, how did you enjoy your first time trodding the boards as a bona fide thespian?”

“I seriously doubt that ‘trodding’ is an actual word,” Garth settled into a well-padded chair as Athena curled herself comfortably on the couch. “And haven’t I asked you nicely already to stop calling me that?”

“Apparently not nicely enough,” she tittered slightly. “And your apparent fascination for words has not gone by unnoticed. Cory has made the observation to everyone that you are actually a member of the ‘Lexicon’ of Super-Heroes.”

“Burton,” Garth hissed between gritted teeth. “I am really developing a healthy detestation for that supercilious ham.”

“Join the club,” she shrugged her graceful shoulders. “As smarmy as he has been with Ayla, he was twice as repugnant when I first met him.” She leaned over and tapped his knee. “And you still haven’t answered my question.”

“Clearly you didn’t ask nicely enough--ow!” Athena touched his knee again with far more force. “Or nicely at all, for that matter.” Garth rubbed his knee in a exaggerated manner. “It was not exactly as I imagined.” Although the day’s activities had been rigorous, Garth had envisioned far more frenzied and taxing difficulties in staging two different plays in less than a week. But as Vade Crimway had directed both productions several times at The Globe of the Bard Theatre, well-established templates for scenery, lighting, props and most other elements of stagecraft were already set in place. The twin Legionnaire siblings merely had to attend costume fittings, endure make-up tests, learn their individual cues, marks, and exits, and most importantly, memorize and emote their lines. However, as both of his parts required swordplay, Garth had also spent two extra hours sparring with Blademaster Lukos Scwan. Yet all the while, he had been focused on searching for any traces of the Confider, and coming up empty. “But I must confess to being somewhat preoccupied with the real matter at hand, finding our elusive mutual opponent.”

“Yes, publicly coining the term ‘confider,’ was a masterful stroke of conspicuousness--I was surprised you didn’t let slip out that I’m an agent of the Interstellar Counter-Intelligence Corps.”

“I was increasing the pressure on our foe, letting the Confider know I was getting closer--”

“It seemed more like a rather pathetic ploy of desperation.”

“That’s merely your opinion,” Garth retorted in a defensive tone. “Yet I can’t deny wishing that Saturn Girl had let me clue in the Espionage Squad on this matter.” He gave Agent Torr a sidelong glance. “Athena Amore has been acting on Verbapotens for more than two years now--the ICC must have noticed what appears to be an blatant incontrovertible link between the alleged victims and that particular Theatre--you should have at least a few suspects in mind.”

Agent Torr looked downcast and let out a frustrated sigh. “You’d presume that, wouldn’t you? The ICC checked out each and every stagecraft artisan, usher, caterer--anyone who has ever had access to The Globe of the Bard Theater going back ten years--no viable candidates have ever became evident.”

“Access... that’s got to be the key,” Garth murmured, as a sudden idea dawned on him. “Did you ever meet Ambassador Isaacs--personally--I mean?”

“Yes, about nine months ago, at a gala celebrating the opening of ‘MacBeth.’”

“Are there people from that specific production working on our plays?”

“Let’s see,” she put a finger to her pursed lips in thought. “I was Lady MacBeth, Cory was MacBeth, Zak Prendo was MacDuff...”

“No Kale?”

“He was playing Falstaff at the Lord Chamberlain on the other side of the planet at the time.”

“That’s it?”

“Wait, no--Kylina played Lady MacDuff. Vade directed of course. And there are several other assorted extras, stage hands and other behind-the-scenes people in common.”

“But how many of those other assorted people were invited to such a prestigious event and could have had personal contact with the Ambassador?”

“Not many,” she admitted. “Off hand I would have to say none.” She stared at him with a skewed expression on her face. “You’re saying one of them is the Confider?” Athena vehemently shook her head.. “No--there is no way they could fool everyone--myself included--so completely.”

“Yes, professional actors couldn’t possible possess the capacity for deception.” He moved to sit next to her on the couch. “I understand you consider most of them to be friends, but we must start looking somewhere, so we might as well start from the top. Of that group, who is the most likely candidate to be the Confider?”

“Coriolanus is certainly amoral enough, but he clearly lacks the necessary intelligence.”

“As much as would personally enjoy deflating that massive ego of his, I agree--unless he is a far greater actor than I give him credit for, which is doubtful.” Garth’s lips twisted in disgust. “What about the Prendos? Why can’t the Confider actually be more than one person?”

“A valid point,” she conceded. “But I would keep an eye on Kylina Bizroy--because no one else ever does. She has a definite talent for fading into the background when she wants to--an ability the Confider would definitely find useful.”

One name remained unsaid, yet both of them were loathe to mention it, for mentioning it made him a genuine possibility. “And that leaves Vade Crimway,” Garth finally stated. “As Planetary Director, he can manipulate security measures in any way he pleases, and has the greatest access to all the prominent people who visit The Bard’s Globe, because he can issue invitations to anyone in the universe he chooses. Let’s face it, logically he must be the prime suspect.”

“As well as the most obvious,” she wrinkled her nose. “And the Confider has not completely eluded exposure by being obvious.” She arose and reached for his hand. “For now, come on, get up. I promised your sister we’d meet her in the Feasting Hall for dinner in five minutes.”

“Wait a moment Terri,” Garth stood and clasped her shoulder. “In all this time, why hasn’t your own power helped to crack this case wide open?”

She let out a short bitter laugh. “It hasn’t been for a lack of trying.” She bit her lip. “Associating with Dream Girl may have given you an overinflated sense of Naltorian precognitive abilities. While the planetary average is approximately one hundred hours, Nura’s range has been measured out as far as an entire month into the future.”

“And yours?”

“A week, ten days if I’m lucky.”

“Have you had any visions recently?”

“No,” she looked into his eyes with concern. “But there is absolutely no doubt in my mind that something especially nasty is being planned for you this weekend.”

“That’s fine with me,” Garth scoffed as he led her towards the door. “Let the Confider make a move against me, I intend to be more than ready for whatever comes my way.”

“Yes, that seems like a strategically sound plan, Garthy.”

“It’s the only one available at the moment. And would you please stop calling me that already?”

“Yep,” Athena Amore tapped her own forehead. “I can certainly foresee that ever happening.”


Metropolis Medi-Center; Earth:


“Can’t we change the channel?”

“For the last time, no.”

“But ‘The Colonizers’ Cham?” Invisible Kid hung his head with a sigh. “Really?”

“Blame Gim for getting me started. I still don’t know which of the three Rymmota Aletrees is real, which is the clone and which is the sextet sibling using profem.”

“You are aware of the fact that the entire vainglorious storyline is completely ridiculous!”

“I don’t write ‘em Kid, I just watch ‘em.” Chameleon Boy laid back and locked his fingers behind his head. “Besides, which of us is the Legionnaire recovering from a grievous injury?”

“Actually, my boy, you look quite healthy enough to me.”

“Mister Brande.” Both Legionnaires identified with surprise.

Rene Jacques Brande, currently the fifth richest being in the universe, strode forward into the room with a definite twinkle in his eyes. “Hullo, Legionnaires.” He patted Invisible Kid’s shoulder. “It’s particularly good to see you for once, Lyle, your powers notwithstanding.”

“It’s certainly good to be seen, sir.”

“And you Reep,” Brande hooked his cane on the bedside rail and took the Durlan’s hand in his own. “How are you, son? Feeling better, I dare say.”

“Just about fully recovered, sir. Thank you. Once they take the fourth dimensional capsule out of my thorax, I’ll be available for active duty again.”

“Splendid,” Brande ran his hand through his snowy hair, and rubbed the nape of his neck. “I suspect your mother will be especially happy to hear that.”

“My Mother? Have you been talking with my Mom, Mister Brande?”

“Naturally--she is very concerned about you.” The mustached man turned away a bit too quickly and stared out the window, while leaning on his cane. “I’ve just come from the Allons. Gim said to say that he’s sorry he hasn’t been by more often to visit you these past few days.”

“I understood,” Cham’s antennae drooped slightly. “Sitting shiva is a solemn duty.”

“It’s a bloody shame about Caleb Isaacs, he was a good man and a better friend.” The older man glanced downward for a moment before he turned around and looked at them questioningly. “Have you young pups heard anything unusual about the circumstances surrounding his death?”

“What do you mean sir?” Invisible Kid glanced at his bedridden comrade with a raised eyebrow.

“You two are the heart of the grok-bokking Espionage Squad!” Their mentor abruptly exploded, pounding his cane sharply into the floor. “Secrets are supposed to be your verdamnt bread and butter! What in the Seventeen Hells have I been spending so many Klordny-blessed credits on?”

“Uh, as far as I know, Mister Brande, sir--the official finding is that former Ambassador Isaacs committed suicide after he was caught in the act of stealing classified information from the Allon family database.” Lyle waved his arm towards the bed. “But Cham was actually at the scene.”

“I was not in a cognizant enough state to take notice of any of that at the time,” Cham admitted. “But I can clearly recall, with a great deal of certainty, that Isaacs was the man that shot me.”

“Yes,” Brande took a moment to compose himself. “Forgive an old man for venting at you lads. It’s just--I suppose one can never escape the truism that people are rarely what they seem.” He made for the exit. “Anyway, I just wanted to make sure you were all right, son, before I left.”

“Left? Are you allowed to tell us where you are going, Mister Brande?” Cham asked.

“Why to Verbapotens,” revealed R.J. Brande, as he turned around with a broad grin. “Planetary Director Crimway sent me a personal invitation to attend The Bard’s Globe’s ‘Shakespearean Festival of Twins Weekend,’ spotlighted, of course, by the theatrical debuts of our own Ranzz twins. All the major media outlets have already declared it to be the social event of the year.” He raised a rakish eyebrow. “It promises to be an occasion that should not be missed.”


Hall of Feasting, Stratford Upon Nova Avon Inn:

“--and after I told Garth how Sun Boy really found out I wasn’t him--he broke Dirk’s nose!”

“Oh my Lord!” A scandalized Athena Amore covered her mouth with her hands. “That isn’t true--is it? You wouldn’t do that to a fellow Legionnaire, would you?”

“He deserved it,” Garth chuckled. “Just for the scut he made up about ‘untanned skin on the nape of the neck.’”

“I still can’t believe everyone else bought that!” Ayla guffawed uncontrollably.

“Dirk Morgna is one of my best buddies, and I’d gladly lay down my life for him,” Garth shook his head in a bemused fashion. “But when locked up in close quarters within a Jewel Jail by a sinister sphere of energy, one simply does not grope one’s friends--it’s just not polite!”

“Now that sounds like a fascinating story.”

“Nura!” Beaming, Athena stood up and enclosed the newcomer in a warm hug. “You made it.”

“You know very well High Seer Beren and I never miss any of your opening nights, Territory.”

“‘Territory?’” Ayla regarded the recent arrival coolly. The two females had not met since Dream Girl secretly masterminded the Legionnaire’s metamorphosis from Lightning Lass to Light Lass, without deigning to ask for even Ayla’s simple consent. It was readily apparent she still harbored unresolved issues from that encounter. “How do you know Dream Girl, Athena?” From her tone it was evident that her new acquaintance had just dropped several levels in her estimation.

“She and I practically grew up together,” Dream Girl averred with a fond smile. “It’s nice to see you both again as well, Legionnaires. You two must be very excited about performing here on The Bard’s Globe this weekend. But don’t worry, I haven’t had any visions of doom nor gloom.”

“Can’t recall asking if you had had any at all, Dream Girl,” Ayla spat out testily. “But then again, you have never been hesitant to foist your unwarranted interference upon circumstances which neither requested nor required your presence!” She arose and placed her palms flat on the table “Just because your pathetic prophetic powers supposedly foretell the future, that does not grant you the divine right to nonchalantly waltz in, willy-nilly, and meddle with someone else’s life--”

“There’s High Seer Beren now,” Athena cut off the rest of Ayla’s tirade, as a trio of figures entered the chamber. One moved in a unhurried manner and sat down at an empty table. Tall, with a long flowing white beard, he was garbed in a hooded, forest green cloak. He was flanked by a pair of sentinels, clad in armor of a similar hue, standing alertly. The covert ICC operative grabbed the Legionnaire’s arm. “I know he would truly appreciate a proper introduction to the both of you, and there’s no time like the present, come on.” She attempted to draw Ayla away.

“A fine idea,” Nura Nal sat down calmly, as if she had not heard Ayla’s verbal assault. “Why don’t you go on ahead with Territory and allow her do just that, Light Lass?” She reached over to pat Garth’s arm. “Your brother and I require a moment or two to catch up on a few things.”

“Gladly,” chastened and a trifle flushed, Ayla allowed herself to be led to the other table where the Naltorian delegation had settled, but not before audibly muttering “Dream Girl’s a menace.”

“Well that reunion went precisely as expected.” Smiling provocatively, Nura tossed her platinum tresses back. “Precisely what matter, do you wish to discuss with me in private, Lightning Lad?”

“You foresaw what just happened.”

“Obviously,” she steepled her fingers. “And now we will engage in a conversation. Let’s start with your intentions concerning my best friend. Be warned, if you make any asinine comments about ‘virgin territory’ I’m going to happily snap all the thirty-two vertebrae in your spine.”

"Thirty-three."

"Whatever."

“It’s gratifying to see that Athena--Terri has such a good friend.”

“I’m not kidding, Legionnaire.”

“I never thought you were,” Garth quickly looked about the area. “Actually, I’d like to make the request that you use your power to see if anything... untoward happens this weekend.”

“But I already told you--”

“Just try using your precognition skills right now, at this very moment.”

“Why should I?”

“Everything going on around here has made me somewhat nervous,” Garth rapidly drummed his fingers on the table. “Please, Nura, I need a little reassurance for my own peace of mind.”

“All right,” she agreed with a slight scowl. “I’ll try, but I’m not making any promises.”

“That’s all I can ask for.”

Dream Girl sat straight up and closed her eyes. For several long moments she merely maintained that serene pose. “No! Someone’s hurting you...” She lurched forward suddenly, nearly striking her head on the table before recovering. Her eyes flew open. “Garth--you were being beaten up horribly--as if you were in the fight of your life--and your hands--” Nura’s voice began to falter.

“What?” Garth demanded. “What about my hands, Nura?”

She stared down at them in near terror. “They were completely red, as if drenched in blood.” She began to arise. “We’ve got to find Director Crimway–tell him the shows have to be cancelled--”

“Wait,” he stopped her from leaving the table. “Was I wearing my Lightning Lad costume?”

“I think so--yes,” Nura nodded with increasing certainty. “Yes, I’m positive that you were.”

“Then that must mean I won’t actually be on stage when your vision occurs. It probably going to happen on a mission in the near future, and thanks to you, I have a better chance of surviving it.” He gave her an encouraging smile. “Don’t worry about it. Forewarned is forearmed as they say.”

“Are you all right, Ms. Chief-of-Staff?” One of the Naltorians had reached Dream Girl’s side, with his firearm drawn. “Did this piece of Legionnaire riff-raff do anything to you?”

“Relax, I just had a vision, that’s all.” She smiled wanly, tilting her face in a playful manner. “You should resume your post before Althu over there cites you for dereliction of duty.”

“We both know Yark, would never do that to me.” He cupped her chin tenderly. “Are you sure you’re not hurt, Nura?” At her firm nod, he holstered his weapon. Adopting a withering glare of intimidation, purely crafted for the Legionnaire’s benefit, the bodyguard began to back away.

“Nice helmet,” Garth observed with an unaffected smirk.

The guard threw his head up. “It denotes that I, Kenz Nuhor, am a proud member of the Order of Tiresias Brotherhood, Guardians to the High Seer of Naltor for countless generations. An august organization far more famed than your own Legion.” he proclaimed with a sneer aimed at Garth.

Garth raised his hands in mock surrender. “You won’t find me arguing that particular point.”

“Come on,” Still shaken, Nura took his arm. “We’ve left Beren waiting too long as it is.”

“One final thing, Nura,” Garth leaned close to whisper in her ear. “As a personal favor, would you please stop repeating the changing diapers story? It’s really embarrassing to me.”

“And why should I? It’s the most entertaining anecdote from my brief time as a Legionnaire.”

Garth sighed. “Could you at least remind yourself that Ultra Boy was involved as well?”

“Sorry, dear,” Dream Girl pecked his cheek. “But I must confess that little Jo Nah nowhere near sticks out as memorably in my mind as you do, Garth,” she confided with a knowing smile.

Act IV “What A Wicked Web This Way Weaves...”


Friday
Prop Weapon Storage & Training Room, The Globe of The Bard Theatre:

“Set your feet firmly before swinging--balance is essential.”

“I’m trying--”

“Not hard enough.” Lukos Scwan performed a sweeping stroke which easily sent his opponent’s weapon clattering to the floor. “See? Do you want that happening tomorrow night?”

“The script definitively states that I win tomorrow night,” Garth knelt to retrieve his rapier. “You are supposed to run in awe and terror of my amazing show of skill, ‘Officer’ Scwan.”

“When I actually see such a display, perhaps I will consider doing just that.”

The production team had just finished a full dress rehearsal for ‘The Comedy of Errors,’ and for the two hours required to reset the stage for the dress rehearsal of ‘Twelfth Night,” Garth had sought out Blademaster Scwan for some last minute training. A mistake he now sorely regretted.

“You wouldn’t dare go off-script,” Garth reasoned. “Crimway would never allow that.”

“Feh!” Scwan chortled a bit. “Vade Crimway is a fine man and an excellent Planetary Director, but I’d never consider him to be my master.” He eyes seemed distant. “Only one being was ever worthy of that level of respect, the man who honed a mere Lukos Scwan into the Blademaster.”

“You’re saying that this master you mention taught you how to fence.”

Scwan laughed. “Blademaster is not merely my job title, in my younger days, for a brief time, when I fancied myself a minor disciple of your noble discipline, it was my nom de guerre.”

“You were a super-hero?”

“Hardly super--barely more than a sidekick, actually.” He stared at his rapier wistfully. “I was a petty thug on my native Thaun, when I stumbled across a cache of stolen artifacts belonging to a crimelord known as the Black Dragon. I was both stupid and desperate--an exceedingly bad combination--and instead of turning it in to the authorities, and perhaps receiving a reward, I let my own greed consume me. I heedlessly claimed everything for myself and fled off world.”

“And this Black Dragon eventually caught up with you?”

Scwan nodded. “Lord, I was such a cliche.” He carefully placed both their weapons back in a case set on the table. “I left a trail large enough for a herd of ambling camelphants. A week later, while I was enjoying the spoils of my ill-gotten gain on Ventura, a veritable tidal wave of ninjas converged on me, slaughtering anyone that got in their way. Always handy with my trusty knife, I managed to stop a few, but I was shortly overwhelmed. I awoke, tied to a tilted gurney, face to face with the Black Dragon, himself. Naturally, he demanded his stolen property back.”

“How long did you manage to hold out?”

Scwan let out a disgusted breath. “About four minutes. I wept like a baby and confessed every sin I’d ever committed in my life.” His lips twisted into almost painful shapes. “There was a gleam of pity in the Black Dragon’s eyes as he drew back my own knife and slashed my abdomen wide open.” He lifted his shirt to display a smooth line only a few centimeters above his navel. “For about two minutes I could feel my very spirit slipping away from my body along with rest of my intestines. Then, as I was blacking out one final time, I heard a commotion. My last memory was the visage of my clearly terrified tormentor whirling about screaming: ‘The White Crane!’”

“Wow, you mean the legendary White Crane was your master? What happened then?”

“He had sworn to topple the Black Dragon’s criminal empire, and that night he coincidently discovered the base, I was being kept in. Singled-handedly, he overcame an army of minions until he reached the area where I lay dying. As his archenemy fled down an escape tunnel, the White Crane faced a dire dilemma: Capture the villain he had spent years tracking down, or save the wretched life of a completely worthless stranger.” Scwan shrugged. “When I awoke weeks later, he told me of what he done on my behalf, and I realized that my life needed a new purpose. I begged him to let me help end the reign of the Black Dragon, and, perhaps foolishly, he agreed. He instructed me in various martial art disciplines, but my natural talents always lay in bladed weaponry. Soon, the White Crane and the Blademaster became an unofficial team of sorts.”

“And what happened to the White Crane’s crusade against the Black Dragon?”

“Years ago, just prior to their final confrontation, my master asked me to stay behind, claiming the right to engage his foe alone.” He frowned, with a defeated sigh. “The White Crane and the Black Dragon were never seen again. Alone, my meager skills could not effectively right societal wrongs, ergo I eventually parleyed my mild celebrity status into this position, here on the Bard’s Globe,” he held out his arms, encompassing the room, “where they still had limited theatrical value.” Scwan made a slight motion, abruptly a throwing knife embedded itself into the table. “This blade, which I carried from my homeworld, the very tool the Black Dragon employed to impel me to spill my guts figuratively, as well as literally, and that scar, are all the mementos that remain from that point in time.” He retrieved the weapon and carelessly turned the edges over in his fingers. “Stinging reminders, that the greatest mistake my master ever made, was saving my life instead of putting an end to his nemesis that fateful night.” He dropped his head sullenly. “As the subsequent ignoble circumstances that life ultimately descended into aptly illustrates.”

“Lukos, you shouldn’t think that--ever.” Garth smoothly plucked the knife away and placed it on the tabletop. “I’m certain that the White Crane made the right decision in saving your life.”

“My master always claimed that,” Scwan scowled. “Yet to this very day, I remain unconvinced.”


Reception Hall, The Globe of The Bard Theatre:


“Vade Crimway, you absolutely must confess all your secrets to me.”

“However do you mean, my dear?”

Athena Amore clasped her hands together and tucked them under her chin. “How do you possibly handle everything so smoothly?” She began to count off on her fingers. “You fulfil your daily duties of running the entire world as Verbapotens Planetary Director, plus you devise and implement the travel and security needs each individual VIP guest requires. Yet somehow you find the time to direct and stage two different productions in a single weekend, and now you have arranged this wonderful party for all our cast and crew--not to mention the additional pair of more formal receptions planned after the end of each play’s performance.” She shook her head in wonderment. “You must tell me, how do you ever manage to get everything done?”

“It’s simple Athena,” Crimway took a sip of his drink. “Focus. I’ve found that if you can focus your energy and efforts into a single goal, what you will can indeed come into fruition.”

“Balderdash!” An obviously less than sober Coriolanus Burton intruded on their conversation. He had a cruel expression on his sterling features. “While I appreciate the gist of your trite maxim, Vade, I find that it is my loathsome responsibility to disabuse you of its veracity.”

The Planetary Director and the actress exchanged tired looks, born from prior experience, they knew what was on the verge of occurring. During gatherings Burton, himself, considered noteworthy, he played the part of a genteel socialite with ease. However, in less prominent settings, his true nature tended to make itself more pronounced, to the chagrin of any witnesses.

“I can assure you that I focused a great deal of energy and effort into that specific goal--” Burton lewdly pointed directly at Athena’s torso. “Yet nothing I willed ever came into fruition.”

“Coriolanus,” Director Crimway’s mouth was a grim line. “I strenuously suggest you find a discreet place somewhere and compose yourself.” He gave a sympathetic look to a fuming Athena. “Before you force to me to make that same request of someone else to do it for you.”

“Oh, don’t be so dour Vade,” Burton downed another glass of amber liquid. “I gave up on that--” He paused, as if mentally searching for a properly denigrative epithet. “Strumpet? Yes, that’s apt enough. I gave up on that particular strumpet long ago--that Legion whelp is more than welcome to her.” He shuffled his feet and began scanning the room. “Speaking of our special guest stars, just where are they?” He spotted both the Ranzz and Prendo twins conversing with Blademaster Scwan at a far table. “Pardon me, but I have just located that fresh new nubile goalkeeper I intend to score upon.” His objective in sight, Burton awkwardly sauntered away.

Director Crimway was about to summon security, but Athena stayed his hand. “Don’t bother. You don’t have to worry about Garthy and Ayla they’re Legionnaires, after all. Besides, Cory won’t be receiving anything that he hasn’t been deserving for a very long time.” She grinned impishly. “However, that doesn’t preclude our moving in closer for a better look.”


“From the way the four of you describe it, Winath sounds like a paradise.”

“That it is, Lukos,” Zak Prendo nodded his head. “And a rising economic power as well. Did you know that while our crop production is only fifteen percent of the Manna System, our produce still maintains a thirty-one percent higher market value? It’s an excellent contemporary example of the archaic principles of supply and demand and quality over quantity.”

“Brother, you sound like a page from the Encylopaedia Galactica,” Kale rubbed his brow in a weary manner. “What’s next? The planetary ratio of triplet births against those of octuplets?”

“You know, those are misleading statistics--uh oh.”

All eyes at the table followed his gaze to behold Coriolanus Burton stumbling his way forward.

“Strewth! Even for him this a mite early for such shenanigans,” Scwan complained to the Prendo twins. “Doesn’t your friend have any sense of decorum?” They merely shrugged in response.

“Ayla, my dear,” Burton claimed her hand. “Would you do me the honor of joining me in a dance? In my culture, such a symbolic act before a momentous occasion portends great success.”

“Really,” Ayla tilted her head with feigned interest. “That sounds utterly fascinating. Precisely, which culture is it, does this quaint tradition originate from?”

“Ahh...” Burton smiled lamely. “Actually, sweet Ayla, I must confide that the exact name eludes my notoriously poor memory for the time being. Still, my momentary mnemonic lapse, should not deprive you the opportunity to assure a fabulous debut performance tomorrow night.”

“Sorry Cory,” she withdrew her hand. “While I may come to rue this after the final curtain falls tomorrow, I must decline this anonymous ethnic omen of good fortune you so eloquently offered, as Lukos has just promised us to relate an enthralling adventure of the Blademaster.”

“That I did,” Scwan affirmed. “You can understand that concept, old man,” he gave Burton a-not-so-gentle shove. “A little shop-talk between colleagues of similar stripe?”

“Don’t you touch me!” Burton snarled. “How can you spurn my ardent attentions for this worthless bit-player!” He sneered at Scwan with utter contempt. “The fair Ayla shall never play your whetstone, Blademaster! You dare consider yourself a ‘colleague’ to these Legionnaires? Were your fabled exploits of any real consequence, perhaps you wouldn’t be universally reviled as the ignoble coward who deserted his closest comrade, at his hour of greatest need, to die alone--”

The Blademaster, almost imperceptibly, struck out a right palm under Coriolanus Burton’s chin, staggering the actor a few meters backwards before comically landing on his rear end. “You have no right to speak his name.”

“Don’t.” Lightning Lad placed a restraining hand on a shoulder, preventing Scwan from withdrawing the trademark knife secreted on the Blademaster’s person and possibly pressing an attack. “That pathetic drunken idiot is not worth the trouble. We’re--you’re better than that.”

A fearsome look of vengeance in Scwan’s eyes slowly dissipated. “You’re right, of course.”

“More often than not,” Garth admitted.

“Why you glorified spearholder!” Burton sputtered with disdain, as he arose to his full height. “Don’t you realize who I am? You just committed career suicide--yii!” The actor flailed his feet helplessly, as he discerned that he had arisen above his full height. “What’s happening to me?”

“Yes, that spot is quite discreet enough,” Vade Crimway tapped Light Lass’ shoulder. “Thank you Ayla.” He looked up to address Burton. “I did warn you Coriolanus, to seek out such a place on your own before forcing me to seek out someone else to find it for you.”

“You can’t leave me up here forever!”

“The man makes a valid point,” Crimway admitted. “How long can he be held aloft?”

“Indefinitely.” Ayla remarked with a coy smile.

“Well if that is the case,” Crimway shrugged. “I’d suggest our friend remain up there until an hour before curtain rises tomorrow. And the rest of us enjoy our rudely interrupted festivities.”

Broken and humiliated, Coriolanus Burton sobbed impotently between high pitched whimpering.

“Actually, Planetary Director Crimway,” Garth discerned a watery substance drizzling down, forming into a puddle. “Perhaps, two hours before would be a more appropriate option.”


Saturday
One Hour (Relativistic) Before Commencement of ‘The Comedy of Errors’
Recreation Area, Legion Clubhouse:

“Wow! It’s really packed in here,” Phantom Girl looked at the array of seats set before the holo-projector, which was filled with Legionnaires. “But it certainly looks as if the gang’s all here.”

“It’s a tad crowded,” Supergirl, decided with a slight frown. “Something else else really should be done--”

“Don’t worry, Kara,” Saturn Girl glanced from wall to wall, making her own appraisal upon entering. “I have definite plans for tackling the spatial difficulties that plague our Legion.”

“I’ve got ideas in that direction too,” Supergirl shrugged. “But that can wait until intermission.”

“Good,” Saturn Girl nodded. “It will require a team effort to accomplish all our goals in a proper fashion.” She continued forward, wordlessly greeting each Legion member as she passed.

“Saturn Girl,” Cosmic Boy looked up with surprise. “What are you doing here? We didn’t think you were going to watch--didn’t you volunteer for monitor duty tonight?”

“I’ve got a wrist unit on,” she displayed the item for all to view. “So I decided to see what all the fuss was about. Besides, I enjoy the theatrical arts as much as the next person.” She claimed a front row seat. “I believe our twin fellow Legionnaires will provide quite a show.”

Cosmic Boy shared a dubious expression with Mon-El. “If you say so--” A loud disruption from the back row cut off his comment. They quickly turned around and witnessed an enraged Supergirl holding a green-clad stranger aloft with one hand. Standing nearby, Shrinking Violet appeared to be desperately trying in vain to capture her attention. “Who is that?”

“Duplicate Boy, one of the former exiles from Lallor,” Mon-El recognized. “Jungle King’s brother Marden used them to attack some of us a few weeks ago.” The trio swiftly made their way to the scene. “Apparently, he still hasn’t learned his lesson about messing with the Legion.”

“‘Duplicate Boy,’” Cosmic Boy repeated in a thoughtful tone. “What can he do? Is he a shape-changer like Cham--” They watched, as the Lallorian abruptly drifted higher into the air, thereby drawing Supergirl upward off her feet as well, though clearly not of her own volition.

“He can be, in theory,” Mon-El watched as the newly airborne combatants warily circled each other. “But his primary power has been classified as ‘the capacity to duplicate the abilities of others.’ In this case, I suspect he has appropriated all of Kara’s, and quite probably mine as well.”

“Stop this right now!” Saturn Girl commanded. “Supergirl, Duplicate Boy, come down this instant!” The Legionnaire obeyed at once. The other reluctantly complied only after seeing Shrinking Violet nod her head for him to follow suit. “Now, what is this all about?”

“It’s all my fault, Saturn Girl,” Shrinking Violet began before anyone else could. “I invited Qued here tonight to watch Ayla’s big night with us as my guest, and Supergirl must have--”

“That--that--male,” Supergirl sputtered as Phantom Girl halted her advancing forward towards her target. “Does not belong here! It’s bad enough the rest of his kind--”

“Kara.” Saturn Girl cut her off with a warning glare. “We have forgiven the Lallorians for their prior unfortunate, misguided transgressions against our comrades.” She took Duplicate Boy’s hand and shook it firmly. “As Legion leader, I offer my sincere apologies for the rude reception you received, and officially welcome you to tonight’s special activities.”

“No apologies necessary,” Duplicate Boy assured everyone. “I’m just happy to be here.”

“Excellent. Phantom Girl, Star Boy, our guest may find a tour of our Trophy Room of interest before the show starts. Kara, Vi, a moment in private if you please,” she led them away.

“Come on,” Star Boy clasped Duplicate Boy’s shoulder and led him out. “We just erected busts of you and your friends in there and we would appreciate your honest opinion of the exhibit.”


“In an ironic way,” Chameleon Boy whispered to Invisible Kid. “It might be a fortunate happenstance that Colossal Boy’s week of sitting shiva hasn’t expired yet. Having to watch Vi fawn all over Duplicate Boy would have only broken his heart--again.”

“Yes, that little interlude on Mlain was certainly not one of Gim Allon’s finer moments--however, getting thumped on by the person the girl of your dreams subsequently declares love for, can never be considered a good experience.” He indicated the spot where the female Legionnaires were gathered. “What do you suppose that conversation is about?”

“Why doesn’t the Espionage Squad find out?”

“Not on your life,” Invisible Kid shook his head. “Supergirl’s still got murder in her eyes.”

“I don’t know,” Cham raised an eyebrow. “I find it rather cute.”


“--and since Qued is not a Legion member, that makes him available in my book.”

“You may have a valid point there, Violet,” conceded Saturn Girl. “But--”

“But nothing!” Supergirl sneered. “Just because he is not a Legionnaire, it does not alter what he represents at the most fundamental level--”

“Kara, please, we can discuss your extreme viewpoints at a later date. For now, lets just have an enjoyable evening among friends.” She led them back to rejoin the main gathering. “All right Legionnaires, everything has been settled, so as soon as the refreshments I ordered earlier arrive, we can finally get this celebration underway.” As if on cue, Matter-Eater Lad and all three Triplicate Girls entered, each pushing carts containing plates filled with various snack items and beverages. Waiting until everyone had a drink in hand, Saturn Girl proposed a toast. “To the Ranzz twins, our Legion comrades engaging in a very different kind of struggle on The Bard’s Globe, that against stage fright and bad reviews,” everyone chuckled. “May this be a night they never forget.”

“Here, here, that was a well said sentiment. You are always thinking about what’s best for all of us Legionnaires.” The Bismollian and the native from Carggg began setting up the food in a central location. “And that is why you are such a great leader, Saturn Girl,” quipped Matter-Eater Lad. “How did the Legion ever manage to get just the right person for the job?”

“Why through election fraud, of course,” Saturn Girl beamed. “Wasn’t anyone paying attention?”


Fifteen Minutes Before Commencement of ‘The Comedy of Errors’
Dressing Room of Athena Amore, The Globe of the Bard Theatre:


“--and when he finally descended, Burton claimed no memory of last evenings’ histrionics, but then again, that is what he generally says the morning after he sobers up.”

“Are you saying that he has been eliminated as a possible suspect then, Agent Torr?”

“Unfortunately, Chief Kolar, without additional information, we cannot discount any suspects yet.” Garth admitted, pulling loose his scabbard and giving it to Athena before tucking his flying belt under the tunic he donned as ‘Antipholus of Syracuse.’ “But if what we suspect is accurate, we can expect the Confider to try something either during the play, itself, or the reception afterwards.”

“Placing a plethora of unsuspecting prominent personages--plenty of which have been drawn in purely by your presence, Legionnaire--putting them into a potentially perilous predicament.”

“If this Confider is as intelligent as we think,” Athena straightened out Garth’s rapier to hang at an unencumbering angle. “Perhaps, attempting anything tonight would be too foolhardy a move.”

“Intelligent, yet also arrogant,” Lightning Lad stated with certainty. “There are several unique targets seated in the audience, they are far too tempting for a master secrets broker to pass up.”

“Agreed,” the ICC Chief looked grim. “If our theory holds, the Confider will strike either tonight or tomorrow--remain vigilant. Two dozen disguised ICC agents have been discreetly dispersed throughout the theatre should the need for assistance arise. Good luck, Legionnaire, Agent Torr.”

They both nodded their acknowledgments as Athena Amore’s mirror regained its reflective properties, displaying the Legionnaire and the ICC agent garbed in their period costumes. “Wow,” Garth shook his head. “Your Chief Kolar totally has a talent for tongue-twisting.”

“It not an uncommon skill among the membership of the Interstellar Counter-Intelligence Corps,” she claimed with a gleam in her eye. “Allow me to demonstrate.” Terri Torr came into Garth’s arms and drew him into a hard impassioned kiss. “Thusly,” she breathed as she withdrew.

“Wow,” Garth repeated. “What was that for?”

“Just for luck, Garthy.”

“Well,” Garth reasoned. “One can never have too much luck...” The pair drew close once again

A knock interrupted their encore. “Miss Amore--on stage please. All actors on stage!”

“All right, I’m coming.” Athena answered in an annoyed tone. She faced Garth with an expectant expression, yet tinged with fear for herself, but mostly for him. “I guess we’ve got to go,” was all she said, though her eyes clearly indicated more was left unsaid.

“Come on, Athena,” Garth clasped her hand. “It’s showtime, and there is one particular person out there we do not wish to disappoint.” Together, ICC Agent Terri Torr and Lightning Lad, strode away to the Globe of the Bard’s Theatre’s stage, to finally confront their elusive common adversary, the Confider.

Curtain Time of “The Comedy of Errors”
The Globe of the Bard Theatre:

As a large imposing caped figure confidently strode across the darkened curtained space, a single spotlight followed his progress to the midpoint of the visible stage. “Welcome gentle peoples and sentients of all persuasion. I am Verbapotens Planetary Director Vade Crimway, and it is my profound honor to officially commence The Bard’s Globe’s Shakespearean Festival of Twins, with tonight’s production of the William Shakespeare’s ‘The Comedy of Errors.’ Which will be highlighted by the dramatic debuts of our two very special guest stars, from the renowned Legion of Super-Heroes, the electrifying Lightning Lad, and his inspirational twin sister, Light Lass.” Pride was evident in his dark features, as he acknowledged the loud applause which ensued, with deft nods of his head. “In fact, at the suggestion of those two heroic siblings, nearly half of the proceeds from this weekend’s events will be donated to the Winathian Orphans Foundation.” He waited until the polite clapping died down before continuing in his well-known stentorian voice. “As is my wont, I am now pleased to present some of the brightest luminaries the galaxy has to offer, who have kindly consented to join us here tonight.”
“Representing the homeworld of crucial elements of tonight’s cast, Victo and Conquest Vorchekk, the Duumvirate of Winath.” The pair stood up briefly as a light swept into their booth. Adjacent to them sat Luc and Perla Ranzz, the parents of the twin Legionnaires, who had prudently declined Crimway’s offer of public recognition.
“Maestro Courin Schifrage of Ulside.” The accomplished composer smiled from his chair.
“Fwaertson McKrugeroc the Eleventh of Thar.” The innovator of the sentient graphic novel, spread his arms out fully before taking many bows.
“Professor Tiberius Pasvock of Brok.” The noted cyberneticist timidly rose and sat back down so quickly that the trailing spotlight could not follow his movements.
“Captain Kirok Baslim of the United Planets Fifth Dominion Expeditionary Fleet.” The most decorated warrior of the ongoing UP-Dominion hostilities, the uniformed officer stood ramrod straight at attention and saluted the entire house of theatre goers.
“Ambassador Plenipotentiary of the United Planets, Anton Relnic.” An experienced political creature, the older man basked in the attention and virtually embraced the patrons.
“President C.D. McScoi of Plevitz.” Also the author of several acclaimed literary works, the mustached man grinned broadly and waved.
“High Seer Beren of Naltor.” The venerable figure cocked his arm in a curt motion. Nura Nal was at his side, behind them stood two members of the Order of Tiresias Brotherhood.
“Their Royal Majesties, King Voxv and his daughter Princess Projectra of Orando.” The regal pair merely canted their heads slightly to tacitly acknowledge the presence of the lower classes.
“And lastly, but by no means the least, the man whose vision and downright cussedness helped form the Legion, the President and CEO of Brande Industries, Mister R.J. Brande.” The magnate got up and motioned with his cane, beckoning for the others seated nearby to arise as well. “And his escorts, Legionnaires Brainiac Five, and the legendary, Superboy!” The entire theatre audience arose en masse and exploded in a prolonged moment of thunderous ovation.
Crimway lifted his arms aloft and pushed them in repeated downward motions to signal quiet amidst the crowd. “Our story begins on the Anatolian Peninsula of ancient Earth, in the port city of Ephesus...” With that introduction, the Planetary Director turned away and exited stage left. As he stepped out of view, the house lights switched off, and the curtains began to gradually part vertically across the stage. The production of ‘The Comedy of Errors” had finally begun.

Despite the very real possibility that several people near and dear to his heart in the audience were in danger of falling victim to the insidious Confider, Lightning Lad was forced to admit to himself, that he was having one of the best times of his life. In the play, his Antipholus arrives from Syracuse with his servant Dromio, completely unaware they have landed in the town their mutual twin brothers have settled in after they all were separated in a violent storm at sea as small children. To further complicate matters, each brother was given the same name of their respective twin, causing the plethora of mistaken identity “errors” throughout the play. Observing from the wings, Garth thought his sister portrayed a male quite realistically (having lowered the cadence of her voice to match his, lifts in her sandaled footwear, hair styled as his, and having donned the model of his own chest the Make-Up Department had sculpted to fit over her body) and could see how she could have masqueraded as him for those first few days of her Legion career. He could not help but chuckle in the scenes Ayla’s Antipholus dealt with “his” wife, Kylina’s Adrianna. His own moments with Athena were light and romantic as her Luciana tried to stave off the advances of the would-be suitor she considered to be her brother-in-law. Kale and Zak, as the Dromios were hilarious, and he almost lost his composure several times at the points where he had to “beat” them. The Legionnaire did manage to perform the required swordplay with his rapier adequately enough for a satisfied Officer Scwan to flee offstage precisely as the Immortal Bard had originally intended several centuries before. Fortunately, he only shared the final scene with Coriolanus, so he successfully resisted the urge to launch a stray lightning bolt Burton’s way. Finally, after both set of siblings were reunited, and the brothers Antipholus having rediscovered their lost parents, all was right with their little world, and the bulk of the cast made their last exeunt, with only the Ranzz and Prendo twins left on stage. The Legionnaires recited their last lines and headed offstage.

“We did it Garth!” Ayla exclaimed, gripping his arm as soon as they were safely out of sight.

“That we did--” Garth noticed their shadows abruptly contorting. “Ayla--” He shot straight up into the air to discover a heavy array of lighting equipment falling directly upon them

Instinctively, Light Lass threw up her hands. “Got it, Garth.”

Relieved that he did not have to blast it apart with his powers, Lightning Lad grabbed the weightless mass of metal. He briefly toyed with the idea of spot welding the gantry back into place, but ultimately decided guiding it safely to the floor below was the best action to take.

“Come on, Garth,” Director Crimway called urgently from the stage. “Let the lighting crew deal with that--the rest of the cast are already taking their bows.”

A bit taken back by Crimway’s rather nonchalant reaction to the attempt on the lives of his sister and himself, the Legionnaire flew up high and dramatically performed a double aerial somersault before landing in the center of the stage--an emphatic sign to the Confider that Lightning Lad was still very much alive. Still, he could not shake the sinking feeling that his enemy had probably salvaged the failed assassination attempt by successfully utilizing the opportunity as a distraction to claim another target. Yet, he managed to place a genuine smile on his visage, as he noted the beauty the combined effect of Ayla, Athena, and Kylina proudly displaying large bouquets of flowers formed. Fully facing the appreciative audience who had risen to their feet to applaud their efforts, he clasped the free hands of both Ayla and Athena and joined all the cast in making several deep bows.

“You are such a show off, Garthy,” Athena whispered, with glistening eyes.

“I try,” Garth replied with a wink and a smirk

Impulsively, Athena Amore carelessly tossed away her floral arrangement, wrapped her arms around Garth neck, and kissed him as thoroughly as she was dying to from the moment they had first met. The audience gave their embrace the longest and loudest ovation of the night.

Act V “...Defy The Devil; Confider, He’s An Enemy To Mankind...”


Reception Hall, The Globe of the Bard Theatre:


“Sooo... All the ubiquitous ‘Garthena’ hype floating around is actually on the level, huh?”

“Is that an observation or a question, Legionnaire? Actually being identified, by the greatest superhero of all time, as part of a tawdry tabloid portmanteau, kinda completely creeps me out.”

Superboy sheepishly rubbed the nape of his neck. “It’s just me and the others always thought you and Saturn Girl had a very special connection... A shared history--”

“All our members have shared history, Kal,” Lightning Lad replied in a light tone. “It’s a major comprehensive element of what binds us all together as the Legion of Super-Heroes.”

“Agreed.” Superboy crossed his arms. “But the particular history shared between Lightning Lad and Saturn Girl... well it’s been kind of epic, really. It’s makes it difficult to believe you could totally disregard such an deep bond so completely in the span of less than a week., Garth.”

Lightning Lad took a prolonged sip from his glass to conceal how carefully he was calculating his response. Not only was Saturn Girl’s pronouncement barring him from informing other Legionnaires of his self-made non-sanctioned mission still in effect, he also was honor bound to protect Terri Torr’s status an ICC undercover agent. His quandary was further complicated by the fact that his close, Kryptonian friend was a living lie detector. Garth knew he had to speak truthfully, however, he realized that he could control the directions such truth could flow. “Kal,” Garth raised his eyebrows. “Are you trying to tell me that you are interested in Saturn Girl?”

“No! Of course not.” Superboy vehemently shook his head at near super speed. “I mean she’s a beautiful, wonderful individual...” He seemed to pause to ponder that point. “Don’t try to avoid the issue, Garth, you can’t deny that the two of you have always had a rather intense relationship.”

“Yeah, well such emotional baggage tends to get left behind--especially after getting booked on a one-way trip to a barren rock like Althar, with such luxurious accommodations as a tiny solitary cage to be incarcerated within for the rest of one’s life--courtesy of the people claiming to be one’s best friends in the entire universe.” Garth turned away for dramatic effect. “But how could you possibly understand the unbearably sharp pain of such a complete utter betrayal?”

Superboy circled around until they were facing each other again. “Easily. Remember the ‘opening ceremonies’ on the world you guys were so considerate to name in my honor?”

“The Superboy Planet,” Lightning Lad identified innocently. “But those were different circumstances. We thought we had incontrovertible evidence that you were becoming a rogue super-menace--it was our duty to protect the rest of the universe from your imminent threat--”

“Just as we thought we had proof that you were dangerously unreliable, a confession drawn from your own lips. Due to the extra Kryptonite laced in my cage, I couldn’t speak enough to do that.”

“That idea was purely Cosmic Boy’s--he was extremely paranoid about the possibility of escape.”

“Right,” Superboy nodded dubiously. “Anyway, my point is; sure I was annoyed at you and the others for a while, but I got over it--you should be able to do the same as well.”

Garth blew an errant wisp of hair off his own forehead. “I realize that we’re closer than brothers, Kal,” he let a measure of genuine emotion slip out. “But you did not literally have a locked door slammed in your face, cruelly crushing your every hope and dream for the future, by the one person you always assumed, in your heart of hearts, would be there to live them out at your side.”

“But you and Saturn Girl have given each other so much--”

“What has Imra Ardeen ever given me beyond an eight month vacation from life sandwiched between two lifetimes overflowing with frustration?” Garth demanded. “Everyone deserves at least a little bit happiness, with someone emotionally open and willing to stand beside them.”

Superboy frowned. “Then whatever was between you and Saturn Girl is now over?”

“So it would seem, Kal. Yet in many ways matters between Imra and me never truly began.”

“Well, I think you’re making a mistake, Garth, and I’m not afraid to tell you to your face.”

“You may change your mind, when you meet Athena for yourself.” Garth spotted her conversing with a group including his sister, Nura Nal and a young woman with an undeniable regal bearing. “There she is,” he reached for his friend’s arm. “I’ll make the necessary introductions.”

“Maybe later,” Superboy eluded Garth’s grasp. “I should really track down Brainy. We’re scheduled to check in with the others Legionnaires at the clubhouse in a few minutes.”

“Better be ready to make a solo report, pal,” Garth suggested with an impish smirk. “I must regretfully inform you that our green-hued genius is otherwise engaged for the time being.”

“In what way?”

“There was an incident backstage just before the final curtain, and I assured Director Crimway that Brainiac Five would be more than happy to volunteer his services in rectifying the situation.”

“Ouch,” Superboy winced. “I can just imagine Brainy reprimanding you for ‘fraudulently meting our his multi-tasking abilities without proper authorization,’ or something similar in that vein.”

“Close,” Garth chuckled. “Actually, Brainy objected to ‘doling out altruism by proxy.’ Considered the request “a criminal waste of a myriad of multi-faceted skill sets.’ And promised I would suffer ‘appropriate retribution’ when my ‘sense of awareness reaches its lowest possible ebb.’”

“Yep,” Superboy smirked. “You, Garth Ranzz, are definitely in for a world of trouble...”


“And how did our most special, yet anonymous, guests find tonight’s performance?”

“Absolutely spellbinding! Why, there were times when even I could not tell Garth and Ayla apart! Imagine that! Their own Mother! It was just the greatest thrill of my life, Professor!”

“Actually, I’ve been Planetary Director, for several years now, Madame.” Crimway corrected lightly. “But I am gratified by your enjoyment, regardless of your obvious bias for our stars.”

“It was just tremendous!” Luc Ranzz nodded in complete agreement with his spouse. “If only Me–” he suddenly dabbed at his eyes with a cloth. A somber Perla leaned closer to him. “--more of our family were present to watch Garth and Ayla for themselves, it would’ve been perfect.”

“Well, despite that little detail, I’m going to make it unanimous and state our Legionnaire twin pups were brilliant, verdammit!” R.J. Brande boasted proudly with a wide smile. “It’s rather a shame that they’re too preoccupied saving the universe with the rest of their Legion friends to even consider undertaking worthwhile events such as this more regular occurrences.”

The Planetary Director smiled. “What if we offered each interested member an opportunity to star in their own production on a rotational basis?” Crimway suggested with a sharp nod of his smooth head. “An entire season of Legionnaire performances to benefit any number of worthy charities.”

“A capital idea,” R.J. tapped his cane. “I’ll have Marla Latham explore the feasibility–eh?” He felt a sharp tug at his elbow, and discovered a small child staring up at him with awe.

“Excuse me, Mister, but are you, Santa Claus?”

“Not exactly, my Dear.” Brande used his cane to maintain his balance as he bent to one knee. “Although, I suppose my job and St. Nick’s do tend to overlap a bit. And whom might you be?”

“Why, I’m Celeste,” the young girl responded as if it was an obvious answer.

“Wonderful to meet you, Celeste.” He solemnly gave her hand a peck. “I’m R.J. Brande. Now, how did a wee lassie like you manage to find herself alone at such a large party like this?”

“I’m came in through the kitchen area with my Uncle.”

“Really?” Crimway bent slightly to include himself in the conversation. “Could you do me the favor of pointing out just where exactly this intrepid ‘Uncle’ of yours is at this very moment?”

The auburn-haired girl looked away with a searching gaze. “There he is,” she pointed to a squat balding figure who effortlessly wove through the crowd of guests with practiced ease.

“I should have guessed,” Brande shook his head. A glance at Crimway confirmed that the Planetary Director recognized their target as well, and a curt shake of his head indicated that the man was sans an invitation. “You must excuse us, folks.” Brande arose and took hold of the girl’s hand. “We really must return this dear child to her family.” With understanding nods the Ranzzes, started to move on. After clapping Luc’s shoulder in a gesture of farewell with his free hand, Brande set off after the not so-enigmatic avuncular intruder with Crimway close behind.

Quickening his pace, Crimway reached their quarry first, clasping a firm muscular hand on the man’s shoulder. “Greetings, Leland, fancy seeing you here.” The glib expression on the other’s face faltered as he turned around, recognizing the dark angry features of the Planetary Director. “As I am absolutely sure that your name was not included on the attendees list for this function.”

“Planetary Director,” Leland MacCauley III grasped Crimway’s hand and enthusiastically pumped it. “How very nice to see you again. I can assure you I have valid reasons for my presence here.”

“Your flimsy explanations will have to wait a bit,” Crimway noted, as Brande and the little girl caught up with them. “I believe your misplaced scutcheon has just arrived.”

“Hullo, Leland, I simply cannot believe you lost this little precious treasure, here.”

“Brande.” MacCauley scowled, but swiftly feigned a welcoming smile to his relative. “Celeste, there you are, I had wondered where you had gotten to. I was just about to start searching for you.” He turned back to Crimway. “I appreciate your locating and delivering my darling niece back to me, but I must confess I have no inkling whatsoever what a ‘scutcheon’ is, Director Crimway.”

“A strange confession from a man attending a party in honor of a Shakespearean work,” noted Brande. “But then again, you don’t really belong here do you? The collection of notables gathered in this room must have been far too tempting a networking opportunity to for you to resist. Still, even then, for Leland MacCauley III to stoop to becoming a mere gatecrasher...”

“I did not crash this party!” MacCauley denied hotly. “As I was just about to enlighten you all, Medieval Meals, the catering establishment hired for this gala happens to be a management interest of the Omnifare Holding Company which is a controlled subsidiary of the MacCagra Corporation which falls squarely under the aegis of MacCauley Enterprises. I am merely here tonight functioning in a perfectly legitimate advisory capacity, ensuring that this gathering proceeds as smoothly as possible–precisely as the Planetary Director of Verbapotens, instructed.”

Crimway held his arms akimbo. “Then I will refrain from calling Security if you can answer this simple question: Including those within the kitchen area preparing it and those without serving the food, how many employees of Medieval Meals are currently being utilized at this very moment?”

MacCauley looked stricken. “Actually,” he pulled at his collar. “In my advisory style, I tend to delegate quite a bit.” He wildly gestured towards a waiter. “But I can get the number promptly–”

“Security.” Three beings appeared almost magically at the Planetary Director’s side. “Please have this gentleman and his charming scutcheon escorted out of these premises at--” The unnerving sound of loud bawling cut off the rest of Crimway’s instructions.

Brande glanced towards a weeping Celeste. “There’s no need to cry, Little One...”

She held a hand to her watering eyes, and shakingly pointed towards Vade Crimway with the other. “Why does that big brown man keep calling me bad names!” She stomped her foot. “I’m not a ‘scutcheon’ whatever that is! I’m a good girl!” She nodded her head with emphasis.

“No, no, Celeste, ‘scutcheon’ isn’t a bad name,” Brande declared, handing the girl a handkerchief.

“It’s not?”

“Of course not.” He patted her head reassuringly. “You see ‘scutcheon’ is a word used by fogies, even older than yours truly, to mean a shield. You see, this is hardly the first time your Uncle has been caught in such shenanigans. Ergo, he has been known to bring a small child along with him to act as a shield, a scutcheon if you will, to make such situation more awkward, as it also tends to mitigate the punishments he rightfully deserves. Usually, he utilizes his son, Leland the Fourth--”

“Oh, Cousin Leland is grounded for crashing the new skycar,” she offered helpfully.

“Well, that helps explain that mystery. Still, I must say, you are a definite improvement.”

“Thank you,” she blushed. “Waitaminute!” Celeste’s eyes popped open. “He using me as his scutcheon right now, isn’t he?” She strode forward and rapped her Uncle’s knuckles sharply. “That’s so not cool, Uncle Leland, shame on you!” MacCauley’s features were frozen with shock.

After R.J. Brande finished laughing, he drew Crimway aside. “Don’t be too hasty, Vade, I think that little firecracker’s retributive display has just humbled Leland far more than we ever could.”

Using a cupped hand to hide a gleeful expression on his mouth, Crimway nodded. “I agree. What do you suggest I do to properly further chastise our crimson-faced would-be-caterer caretaker?”

R.J. spotted a familiar form, a tall bespectacled young preteen leaning against a wall, decidedly bored among the flurry of adults milling about him. “R.K.! Could you come here for a moment?”

“What can I do for you, Mister Brande?” The lad asked, after he ambled over.

“R.K., this is Celeste.” The youths eyed each other warily. “Would you mind entertaining her for a time, while Director Crimway and I discuss some very important matters with her uncle?”

“Sure, I wouldn’t mind talking with someone near my own age for a change.”

“Thank you, R.K., as always, your family’s services to Verbapotens has proven to be invaluable.” Director Crimway gave a curt nod to the guards to keep discreet watch on the youngsters, before heading with Brande towards MacCauley. “Your charming niece was quite adept at showing you the error of your ways, Leland, yet I am not convinced you have adequately learned your lesson.”

“There’s no real need to traumatize the man any further, Vade,” Brande pointed out. “I would be loathe to trample on your punitive powers as Planetary Director, but may I make a suggestion?”

“By all means, R.J.,” Crimway inclined his head slightly. “Considering how well you know the perpetrator and his business practices, I would welcome your input on this matter.”

“I’ll not be beholden to your tender mercies, Brande!” MacCauley snorted.

“Calm down, Leland,” Brande patted MacCauley shoulder. “You see tomorrow night, I intend to make a donation matching the amount raised by this weekend’s festivities. I’m sure if you made an identical offer, all this unpleasantness would probably be chalked up as a minor mishap.”

“That’s pure and simple extortion! I will not stand for that--”


“No, Leland.” Brande gave his adversary a cold glare. “Extortion would be more like implying security footage of your charming niece, Celeste, slapping your knuckles as if you were but a wee baby caught with his mitts in the proverbial cookie jar, reaching all the media ‘nets if you choose not to cooperate--” Brande lightly tapped his cane to MacCauley’s fingers and shrugged. “Fully.”

“Yes,” Crimway agreed. “Your reputation as a formidable titan of industry might suffer a bit.”

Seeing the wariness in his target’s eyes, Brande offered up a boon. “Tell you what, Leland, I’ll be magnanimous, and let you outdo my charitable efforts by a few million credits or so.” He wiggled his snowy eyebrows. “Who knows, that may actually convince people you truly possess a heart.”

MacCauley pursed his lips as if contemplating that appearing more generous than Brande at an event so closely tied to his rival’s juvenile squad of do-gooders might not be too bad an outcome.
“Naturally, I would expect my invitation to tonight’s and tomorrow’s soirees to be retroactively acknowledged, and any unfortunate action captured of my headstrong niece discreetly expunged.”

“You have my word as Planetary Director of Verbapotens,” declared Crimway.

“Then I find those terms amenable.” MacCauley bowed slightly and scurried away.

“Oh, and Leland?”

MacCauley turned around and faced R.J. Brande with clenched teeth. “Yes?”

“Could you advise your staff that the Planetary Director and I would appreciate a fresh plate of the Winathian fungi stuffed with curried fish?” Brande looked over at Crimway who nodded. “I suspect that Vade would appreciate your delivering it to us personally,” he suggested with a wink.

MacCauley let out a forced breath through his feigned cordial expression. “But of course, it would be my great pleasure to do so. I shall be back momentarily.” He stiffly headed away.

After MacCauley disappeared into the kitchen area, Brande put an arm over Crimway’s shoulder, guiding him into the crowd. “What say we rejoin the festivities, Planetary Director?”

“But what about the tray you just asked McCauley to round up for you, R.J.?”

Brande smiled. “Think about it Vade: Is it really a good idea to eat something handed to you by Leland McCauley, personally?”

Crimway grimaced. “I guess not,” he agreed. “Then why all the falderal about bringing us food?”

Brande chuckled. “Well, Crimway, my old friend, for at least once in his miserable life, I wanted that misanthropic miser MacCauley to experience for himself, what simple honest toil feels like.”



“So, Princess, what you think of tonight’s performance?”

“You were superb, as I expected, Territory,” the heiress to the throne of Orando smiled warmly. “But I must confess, Light Lass,” she turned towards the Legionnaire. “I had difficulty accepting you in your role as a man. I have no idea why you would even want to play a male at all.”

“It kind of an inside joke, you see your Highness--”

“Please,” the Princess canted her head. “I grant you leave to call me Projectra.”

“Thank you, Projectra.” Ayla seemed to ponder curtseying at that point, but thought better of it. “It is a well-known fact that my first days as a Legionnaire were spent impersonating my brother. I thought portraying Antipholus would be an appropriate homage to that point in time.”

“How--” The Princess searched for a suitable word. “--quaint.” She placed her arms over the shoulders of Nura Nal and Athena Amore. “However, it is simply marvelous to be with two of my oldest friends, once again. How long has it been since we all first encountered each other at the Convocation of the ‘Mystical Globes’ on the Sorcerer’s World? Five years? Six?”

“Ten,” admitted Nura with a rueful shake of her platinum tresses. “We were all eight except for--”

“‘Convocation of the Mystical Globes?’” Ayla purposely cut Dream Girl off. “What was that?” she asked with interest. “It sounds kinda spooky.”

“It was my first time offworld, and actually the first official event Orando took part in since joining the United Planets.” Projectra recalled with a wan expression.

“There have long been theories that various UP worlds such as Tharn, Thaun, Avalon, Orando and Naltor were all once colony worlds of Zerox,” explained Athena. “The so-called ‘Mystical Globes.’ The Convocation was an opportunity to gather together the various anthropologists and historians of these worlds and discover how valid the theory was. At that time, my father Beren Torr served under then High Seer of Naltor, Kiwa Nal, so I was also allowed to travel to Zerox to keep her daughters company. In reality, it must have been a boring academic exchange, but to four young girls with a taste for adventure, it was an exciting quest into a magical land.”

“Yes, fearless, headstrong, crimson-haired young Mysa, always ready to step where demons dare not tread.” Projectra glanced about. “But where is she? Surely she was invited to this event?”

“Mysa? Well...” Athena bit her lip and gave Nura a sorrowful look for broaching the subject.

Dream Girl brought a hand to her face to cover her glistening eyes. “Truth to tell, Jeckie, I have absolutely no idea where my little sister is... She been missing for several years now.”

“Nura, I’m sorry,” Projectra looked stricken. “I didn’t know. What happened?”

“After Mom died, Mysa felt isolated on Naltor because she didn’t have precognitive gifts.”

“I recall that,” Princess Projectra nodded. “She didn’t seem to mind it when I knew her.”

“Because you met her on Zerox, Mysa was a different person there.” Nura sniffed. “And maybe because of that feeling, she chose to travel back to that planet, to seek something else for herself.”

“She wanted to become a mage?”

“Apparently she had a knack for it,” Athena stated as Nura was too overcome to continue. “We received intermittent missives that she had been accepted and was showing potential. But then--”

“Mordru the Merciless seized power,” Light Lass presumed.

“Yes, he devastated his own world.” Athena shook her head. “No word from Mysa has been received since. My father, Nura and I--all of Naltor have tried to use our powers to find her.”

“Saturn Girl says someday, sooner or later, the Legion will have to take care of that madman!”

“How very heroic of you--a shame that it couldn’t have occurred in time to help my sister!” Nura snapped not bothering to hide her anger. “Pardon me, I’ve got to find some place to freshen up.”
She hurriedly slipped away from the group, but did not get far before someone held her shoulder. “What do you want? To rub my face in my grief? Umpf.” She was suddenly embraced.

“I’m sorry, Nura, for everything,” Light Lass gushed. “I know the pain worrying whether or not a missing sibling is dead or alive, can cause.” She smiled shyly. “I realize this reflects badly on me, but it actually helps to know that your life isn’t as perfect and carefree as you make it appear.”

“Does this mean you finally forgive me for altering your powers without warning?”

Ayla winced. “More like a begrudging acceptance.”

“Well, give me your vote when I finally get around to rejoining the Legion, and we’ll be even.”

“Done.”

“How interesting. Tell me, Light Lass,” Princess Projectra emerged from the shadows and caught up with them. “Would you consider a similar arrangement with me? I must confess I find your Legion of Super-Heroes quite intriguing. I would like to hear more about your illustrious club...”


“Thanks, for the tray of food, Uncle Leland.”

The industrialist grumbled something about picking up Celeste within an hour and scurried away.

“I guess Mister Brande and my uncle finished their talk,” Celeste observed between bites, as she and R.K. made themselves comfortable at a quiet table. “I wonder what it was all about.”

“The usual boring grown-up business stuff, ” guessed R.K. in an indifferent tone.

“How do you know, Mister Brande?”

“He’s an old family friend.” R.K. stuffed five hors d’oeuvres in his mouth at once. “We came to Verbapotens on the family yacht.” He poked at his drooping spectacles. “Mister Brande’s a very nice guy, but I’m sorry to say, Celeste, your uncle seems slimier than a Vornian Slug-Serpent.”

She giggled. “To tell the truth, Uncle Leland has always treated me well, other than the whole ‘scutcheon’ incident earlier this evening. You see a ‘scutcheon’ is another word for--”

“A shield,” R.K. supplied with a smirk.

“How could you possibly know that?” Celeste demanded.

“Such arcane knowledge traditionally comes with the family business,” R.K. shrugged. “Did you think my last name was mere coincidence? We kind of own the entirety of the Bard’s Globe.”

“I don’t know about that,” Celeste crossed her arms with doubt. “I seem to remember hearing that he had no surviving male children to carry on the family name.”

“Quite true, but he had many descendants thru his daughters. Two centuries ago, my great-great-grandfather, Hamnet, legally reclaimed our surname,” revealed R.K. “He founded Verbapotens, it was his dream to dedicate this entire planet to the preservation of live theatrical arts.”

“Wow. So, you like actually live here?”

“No,” R.K. laughed. “My family lives in the New Rochelle District of Metropolis. We only come here when the Planetary Director wishes to display us as a ‘Living Legacy’ of sorts.”

“Yes, time does tend to transform familial ties into awkward knots.”

“You’re Brainiac Five!” Celeste exclaimed.

“Clearly,” the Legionnaire observed. “Pardon my intrusion, R.K., but have you seen either of my Legion comrades, Superboy or Lightning Lad, about?”

“I saw them talking together just awhile ago,” R.K. looked about. “There’s Lightning Lad now, over there with Blademaster Scwan,” he pointed to a far corner.

“Thank you.” Brainiac Five nodded, and began to take his leave.

“Wait!” Celeste called back rather desperately . “At least have one of these... whatever they’re called... They’re really yummy.” She pushed the tray of consumables towards the Legionnaire.

The Coluan selected the one which appeared the most symmetrical, and tossed it into his mouth. “Golden Winathian Mushroom stuffed with curried Rockfish,” he identified after efficiently chewing and swallowing the morsel. “Yes, the fare was delectable, young lady. Thank you.”

“Celeste, Celeste MacCauley.”

“Thank you, Celeste, then.”

“Wait, Brainiac Five, before you go, could I ask you something? Something else else really important!”

Realizing the only way to depart was to agree, Brainiac Five reluctantly nodded. “What is it?”

“Could you ask your dreamy friend, Sun Boy, to send me an autographed image of himself?”

Brainiac Five carefully maintained a polite demeanor. “Rest assured, Celeste, I shall endeavor to grant your request the attention it so richly merits,” he avowed, finally making good his escape.


“I didn’t do too badly with my sword work, did I, Lukos?”

The Blademaster shrugged. “Merely adequate at best. Just make sure you don’t accidentally skewer Kale tomorrow night--your forward thrusts to tend to be a bit wild.”

“I’ll try to keep that in mind.” Garth surreptitiously glanced about himself. “Speaking about accidents, where you backstage when the lighting scaffold collapsed?”

“Somewhere thereabouts,” Scwan admitted. “That was a little unplanned excitement wasn’t it?”

“You didn’t notice anything or anyone suspicious or out of place did you?”

“Garth, my lad,” the Blademaster glanced at him askance. “You’re sounding a wee bit paranoid.”

The Legionnaire rubbed the back of his neck. “Am I? Comes from my regular job, I guess.” He spotted a familiar green-skinned figure approaching. “Hey, Brainy--how did the repairs pan out?”

Brainiac Five tilted his head slightly. “I would prefer reprimanding you for so carelessly bandying about my twelfth-level genius capabilities in private, Lightning Lad.”

“No problem, Legionnaires,” the Blademaster backed away. “I’ve got to track down Kale Prendo, anyway. Director Crimway wants me to make certain he knows his choreographed swordplay as Sir Toby Belch down cold for tomorrow’s performance. Good evening, my friends.”

Garth waited until Scwan was out of earshot, before asking in a low voice: “And what did your fabled twelve levels of genius determine caused the structural failure of the lighting equipment?”

“Basic oxidation.”

“Rust? Brainy, you’ve got to be kidding!”

“Hardly,” Brainiac Five produced a device from his belt. “While the process was elementary, the causal agent was not. These sensor readings indicate a high concentration of chronal residue.”

“And that tells us what exactly?”

“That the rust was possibly a result of exposure to mere drops of water saturated with chronal particles, culminating in an extremely accelerated oxidation-reduction reaction.” He displayed the data on the small screen. “This still hypothetical compound, is known as ‘hydrochronic’ acid.”

“Let me guess;” Garth rubbed his brow with his fingertips. “The scientist who proposed this substance, mysteriously died within months after attending a performance in this very theatre.”

Brainiac Five nodded. “Professor Hylas O’Hellenicus of Phlon, three years ago.”

“Damn.” Garth let out a frustrated breath. “How much of this can be sufficiently proven?”

“None, this was pure supposition--hydrochronic acid remains a scientific impossibility.”

“Great,” Lightning Lad pounded his fist into his hand. “Just great. The Confider strikes again.”

“‘Confider?’”

“The name my target has adopted--according to the Inter-stellar Counter-intelligence Corps.”

“You are cooperating with the ICC? Of course, that clearly explains away your uncharacteristic inexplicable dalliance with Athena Amore as a mere cover,” Brainiac Five deduced. “Garth, let me help you, we can bring in Superboy and your sister, as well.”

“I can’t, Brainy. Saturn Girl has ordered me not to involve any other Legionnaires, not without solid evidence.” Garth shook his head. “ I’m hoping the fact that you already knew of my investigation will be a loophole for getting you involved this far.”

“That seems to be an almost irrational restriction for her to place on your activities.”

“I guess I’m not Saturn Girl’s favorite fellow Legionnaire at the moment,” Garth sighed wistfully

“Having just finished speaking with her, Garth, my friend, I can honestly say that is a definite understatement.” Superboy clapped Brainiac Five's shoulder. “There you are, Brainy, come on, Mister Brande, R.K. and his parents are ready to leave now.” He smiled with a wink. “We truly important VIPs rate deluxe accommodations at Stratford Castle, R.K.’s family’s palatial estate.”

“Well, we peasant actors aren’t treated too badly either.” Garth called after his departing friends.

“Oh yeah,” Superboy turned around. “Our fearless leader is expecting you to call in an hour.”

A tragic conclusion to one of the greatest nights of my life, Garth pondered gloomily. How appropriately Shakespearean...


Five Months Before...
Time Lab, Legion Clubhouse:

“I think you missed a spot.”

Lightning Lad bumped his head in surprise under the Time Bubble console. Moaning a curse, he retracted his body, rubbing his sore crown while withdrawing a compact sani-vac behind him.

“Shame on you, Legionnaire, you should attach that hose over your own mouth for that kind of foul language.” Saturn Girl swished a reprimanding forefinger while making clicking sounds with her tongue. “Haven’t you ever been warned that small vile words denote a small vile mind?”

“Yeah, well you should know.”

“Is that meant to be an astute observation of my abilities or a rather lame insult of some kind?”

“How am I supposed to know? At this moment I’m probably suffering from major brain trauma.”

“Oh, don’t be a child,” she chided, gently prying his hand away to inspect his injury. “There’s barely even an a bruise there, and no swelling at all. Do you want me to kiss it to make it better?”

As if abruptly tired of all their gameplaying, Lightning Lad glared balefully at her before resuming his chore. “That’s hardly necessary. If you don’t mind, I would like to finish this in peace.”

“Stop hiding from me, Lightning Lad! You must realize that we are long overdue to have an important conversation.” Feeling a trifle unsteady on her feet from her recent bout of ‘Crimson Plague,’ Saturn Girl sat down. “Why are you acting as Brainy’s sanitation drone anyway?”

“Beppo had an accident, as I’m the one who collected him, I’m the one who has to clean it up.”

“Strange, I can’t recall drafting that particular clause into the Legion Constitution.”

Lightning Lad arose, finally finished with the task at hand. “Disposing of invulnerable monkey spoor--not as simple a task as one might expect.” He tapped the cleaning device he had used. “Luckily, Brainy picked this up among all the other equipment from our week spent on Daxam.”

“Actually, it was ten days,” she corrected. “You, Sun Boy, Brainy and Mon-El abscond to Daxam with barely a word of warning.” She grimaced. “I had to endure your sister’s constant berating because she thought I ordered you there instead of going home to visit your parents with her.”

“I went back to Winath as soon as Doctor Mune Itham completed all the tests he wanted to run on me,” Garth stated. “As we explained in the note, since he developed the process that revived me, it was important that the doctor needed to fully observe the first few days of my recovery.”

“As a matter of scientific fact, ten days is considered to be significantly much more than a ‘few.’”

“Well,” Lightning Lad looked abashed. “Mon wanted us to met some of his distant relatives, and between exams, Dirk helped Brainy and me on a special project that took advantage of the locale.”

“Ugh,” Saturn Girl exaggerated a shudder. “I don’t really want to ponder what kind of project the three of you could devise together.” She tucked her chin and pursed her lips. “Thus the primary question is: Why have you been avoiding any contact with me since your return to Earth?”

“You’re being delusional,” he scoffed. “Now if you will excuse me, I’ve got to find Brainy and ask him to how to properly get rid of this toxic waste.” He made for the exit portal.

“Oh no, you’re not escaping this time,” she grabbed his arm and forcefully pulled him into an adjacent seat. “We are going to sit right here and speak seriously with each other.” She briefly covered her face with her hands and released a frustrated growl. “Why are you making this so difficult? We’ve never had trouble communicating before--I mean, didn’t it seem that you, Cos and I, whiled countless hours talking away in this very bubble?” She patted the controls fondly.

“Maybe because each of us were merely talking with Cos.” He shrugged. “How many times did the two of us actually speak directly?” Lightning Lad countered, crossing his arms over his chest.

“How can you ask that?” She retorted, shaking her head. “We’ve spoken about our lives plenty of times... I can’t recall a good example just this second,” Saturn Girl admitted with a weak smile. “Besides, as you are aware, in our particular relationship, more is left unsaid, than actually said.”

“Perhaps far too much,” Lightning Lad observed. “All right, what do you want to talk about?”

She looked at his askance. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Lightning Lad bit his lip. “Let’s not make assumptions, as we may not like the conclusions we ultimately derive from them,” he suggested.

“Have it your way then,” she moistened her lips. “Why did you defy my direct order to let me face Zaryan the Conqueror, alone? And spare me any trite remarks, just tell me why you did it.”

“I don’t know.”

“‘You don’t know?’” Saturn Girl repeated incredulously. “What kind of asinine answer is that?”

Leaning in closer, Lightning Lad repeated his reply slowly for emphasis. “I. Don’t. Know.” He let out a short breath and shook his head slightly. “Oh, at the time I thought I knew damn well why I was doing what I did. But I’ve done quite a bit of reflecting in the time since I awoke, and I think I uncovered enough strong reasons to doubt what really happened. While you clearly meant to protect the other Legionnaires from Zaryan, once I arrived, your resolve seemed to falter a bit.”

Her face crinkled with confusion. “What are you trying to say, Lightning Lad?”

“That I’m not completely sure what I felt at those critical moments was what I truly felt deep in my heart and soul--” he looked at her with a scowl. “--or rather what you wanted me to feel.”

“You think I used my powers to somehow manipulate you?” Saturn Girl asked in disbelief. “How could you possibly believe that I could act with such duplicity?”

“Oh, I don’t know, perhaps it was the way you earlier hijacked the election,” Lightning Lad suggested. “Or the way you foisted impossible tests on every Legionnaire to ‘suspend’ us all.”

“But you said you understood why I did that. Besides you’ve known me since the Legion was founded--you should realize I would never abuse my powers in that horrendous a fashion...”

Lightning Lad stood up. “What I have come to realize, Saturn Girl, is that you had a significant lead, plus access to Jo’s ultra speed, yet still I managed to ‘overtake’ you to Zaryan’s invasion vessel?” He gazed at her with disgusted pity. “I can remember telling you that you were a ‘noble girl’ and a ‘great Legionnaire.’” He turned away to exit the sphere. “Obviously, I was mistaken.”

“Wait! You surprised me! I didn’t have time to react–Yii!” Rising up too swiftly on leg muscles still weakened by her bout with ‘Crimson Plague,’ Saturn Girl found herself stumbling helplessly forward in an uncontrolled fall. Strong arms plucked her in mid-air, and held her close. “Garth?”

Blue eyes similar to her own, yet electrifyingly different locked gazes with her. Time stood still within the Time Bubble, without benefit of the chronal-defying designed mechanisms contained within. Wordlessly, they brought their lips together in a passionate ethereal moment of perfection.

“Well, I guess that answers a few of my own unasked questions,” Lightning Lad quipped, pressing his forehead against hers. “How about yours, Imra?” He moved to claim her lips once more.

“No, Garth, please stop,” she desperately begged. “We--I can’t do this, at least not right now.”

He released her, and guided her to a seat. “What do you mean? Why the Hell not?”

“I’m the Legion leader now, I can’t afford to split my focus. While you were gone, the original club we started as the Legion of Super-Heroes grew more prominent than we ever even imagined. What we’ve built is important to the entire galaxy now. Garth, we can’t let our personal feelings endanger that.” She looked up at him with pleading eyes. “You understand all that don’t you?”

He cupped her chin in his hand. “Yes, I may resent the entire concept, but I understand it.” He reached out and clasped both her hands. “Promise me one thing, Imra: The nanosecond your term as Legion leader expires, we pick up, whatever this is between us, right from this very moment.”

Saturn Girl smiled wanly. “I promise.”

Lightning Lad smiled back “Well, you must excuse me now, I’ve got to confer with our Coluan comrade with an urgent matter of waste disposal.” He picked up the sani-vac and departed.

Quietly, the leader of the Legion of Super-Heroes sat alone in the Time Bubble watching her fellow Legionnaire leave the room. Lost in thought, as the blissful expression on her fine features became more pronounced, her musings of the future gradually grew immeasurably brighter...


Sunday
Mission Monitor Room; Legion Clubhouse:


“Saturn Girl?”

“What? Triplicate Girl?” The Legion leader shook herself out of her indulgent reverie.

“I said,” the three forms of Luornu Durgo melded into one. “Should we make the same catering arrangements for the next gathering? I thought tonight’s spread was quite impressive, myself.”

“Yes, fine. On second thought, add an order for a dozen gallons of assorted ice cream flavors from the Nine Worlds Parlor. Cosmic Boy invited the Substitute Legion to the next party.”

“Check,” Triplicate Girl made the order on her Omnicom. “So, what were you daydreaming about? You had a very intriguing expression on your face.”

“Nothing important,” Saturn Girl prevaricated. “Just some old memories. Is there anything else?”

“Yeah, the male component of ‘Garthena’ has been holding on commline three for the past twenty minutes.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “I told him you were too preoccupied to speak with him.”

“Thanks, but I ordered him to check in.” Saturn Girl yawned. “You should go get some sleep. Kara’s going to take over monitor duty from me in a half hour.”

Triplicate Girl nodded and headed for the portal. At the door opened, she paused and turned around. “You know he’s making an absolute idiot of himself with that airheaded actress.”

“I have no Earthly idea what’s you’re talking about.”

“Have it your way,” The Cargggite headed for her quarters. “But even you have to admit that their kiss after the final curtain was HOT!” She giggled to herself as she left the room.

Stifling that rebellious part deep in her soul which heartily agreed with her team mate’s parting remark, Saturn Girl calmed herself down and activated the commchannel. “Saturn Girl, here.”

“Hey,” Lightning Lad appeared to be in a middle of a yawn. “What do you need O Fearless One?”

Anger flooded the Legion leader’s face. “A Legionnaire who has the decency not to engage in antics which are subsequently plastered across the cover of every galactic tabloid being produced, thereby causing a deluge of reporters to clog our communication lines,” she proclaimed. “A particularly vexing situation, whereas supposedly, a covert non-sanctioned mission is underway.”

“Yeah, about that,” Lightning Lad ran his hand down the nape of his neck. “I believe I have uncovered enough probable cause to officially update the status of this non-case.”

“Such as?”

“I have direct confirmation from Chief Kolar himself, that the Interstellar Counter-intelligence Corps is also investigating possible connections between the Bard’s Globe and the virtual epidemic of tragic incidents involving numerous notable sentients. They even have a suspect.”

“Oh? Who is this person?”

“A galactic secrets-broker known only as the ‘Confider.’”

“Is there evidence confirming the existence of this ‘Confider?’”

“Only second and third hand accounts taken from former clients captured by the ICC.”

“Do they at least have any leads as to the whereabouts of this spectral figure?”

“We’ve arrived at the same conclusion, the Confider must be somewhere on Verbapotens.”

“Is that all you have to report?”

“There was that attempt on my life earlier--Brainy suspects its was done with ‘hydrochronic acid,’ a theoretical substance posited by Phlon scientist Hylas O’Hellenicus--another possible victim.”

“Yes, I was rather dismayed to hear that you risked your sister’s life so recklessly.”

“It is your order which is preventing me from warning Ayla of any possible danger!”

“So I am to perceive that an alleged anonymous master espionage operative apparently tried to kill you with a hypothetical chemical agent,” Saturn Girl shook her head slowly. “How, by any stretch of the imagination, does that merit authorizing the official presence of the Legion in this matter?”

Lightning Lad tilted his head in a disappointed manner. “What happened to you, Saturn Girl?”

“I fail to see any point or relevance in that question.”

“There was a time, ” he gazed at her wistfully. “When the word of a fellow member alone, was more than enough justification to spur the Legion into action--no matter what the circumstances.”

“Clearly, that would have depended on the quality of the Legionnaire,” she retorted. “My previous order stands. You will not involve any other members further. I expect you and your sister to depart Verbapotens Monday morning.” Saturn Girl crossed her arms firmly over her chest. “If, by some off chance this Confider actually exists, full jurisdiction in this matter will be ceded to Chief Kolar and his ICC minions. Is all that clearly understood, Lightning Lad?”

“Crystal.” He looked up. “By the way, what were your impressions of tonight’s performance?”

She glared back at him with a scowl. “Do you really want to hear my honest critique?”

“I suppose not,” he lifted a fist to unsuccessfully stifle a yawn. “I need to get some rest; I got a busy day ahead.” He stared directly into her eyes. “But I’m stating right here and now; if an ‘alleged anonymous master espionage operative’ happens to cross my path, I will do what I must to bring that ‘spectral figure’ down, regardless of any possible ramifications. Lightning Lad out.”

Shaking her head, Saturn Girl let out a frustrated breath. “I would hardly expect anything less.”


Noon
Dressing Room of Athena Amore, The Globe of the Bard Theatre:

“--our own forensic findings back Brainiac Five’s theory,” Chief Kolar confirmed from the mirror set on Athena’s dressing table. “There are indications of the kind of traces ‘hydrochronic acid’ would logically likely leave, but that is not concrete evidence of its actual presence.”

“Have there been an unexplained incidents, where this substance might have possibly been used?”

“Negative, Legionnaire.”

Garth frowned. “Which implies the Confider is personally hoarding some of the more valuable bits of data--to me that hints of harboring ambitions to become a galactic power onto themself.”

“A premature conclusion, yet also apt and very troubling,” noted Kolar. “Although perhaps not as troubling as the call I received from Legion leader Saturn Girl earlier. She informed the ICC that the Legion has relinquished any and all claims of jurisdiction in the Confider investigation, and requested that I refrain from utilizing ‘Legion resources’ without irrefutable evidence on my side.”

“Yeah, sorry about that, Chief,” Garth appeared sheepish. “She’s a bit ticked off at me right now.”

“I wonder why?” Athena asked in a teasing manner, as she leaned in closer.

“Brainy couldn’t detect any kind of delivery system,” Garth stated, getting back on topic. “That would mean that whoever used the stuff only had a few moments to place it on the lighting scaffold before it collapsed. That leaves out the Prendos, who were still on stage--” He turned to Athena. “–but what about the others? Did you notice where they were when it happened?”

“Kylina was with me the entire time,” she recalled. “I didn’t see Burton, but he was there for the curtain call directly afterwards. As for Vade... I can’t swear to his whereabouts either.”

“He was the first person I saw when I brought the equipment down,” Garth frowned. “I can remember being miffed about how blase he was that Ayla and I were nearly squished offstage.”

“When Vade’s in his ‘director zone’ nothing short of a nuclear blast will distract him,” Athena joked. “Falling lighting gear accidents are uncommon, but hardly unheard of.”

“In any event, the audience tonight will again have a number of ICC operatives in attendance.”

“Yeah, they were incredibly helpful last night,” Garth retorted.

“That’s unfair, Garthy–you and Ayla had everything under control before anyone knew anything was even wrong,” Athena pointed out. “What do you think they could have done anyway?”

“In any event,” Kolar continued. “Tonight may prove to be our final opportunity to finally catch the Confider, both of you must be at your best, and ready for anything and everything.”

“My role is much smaller this time,” Garth reminded them. “I’ll be able to keep a closer eye on what goes on backstage.” He pressed his palm against his forehead. “We just have to assume that the Confider is still arrogant enough to strike again--preferably at me, and not my sister.”

“I don’t know,” Athena primped her hair in a side mirror. “From our best estimations, the Confider has never affected more than a single person at any given performance.”

“That’s merely an assumption, Agent Torr, and a dangerous one at that.”

“That’s the whole problem with this case!” Athena slapped her hands on the surface of the table. “The only things we have are damned assumptions! Sir,” she quickly added, lowering her voice.

“Obviously, Agent Torr,” Chief Kolar’s tone indicated he was overlooking any insubordination.

“Apologies, Chief, but Director Crimway is expecting us and the rest of the cast to attend a special brunch being served on the grounds of Stratford Castle in a few minutes,” Athena revealed.

“Understood,” Kolar nodded to each of them in turn. “Good luck, Agent Torr, Lightning Lad. May tonight signal the final end of this insidious Confider’s reign of terror.”

“Amen to that sentiment, sir,” Garth replied, as the mirror regained it’s normal reflective sheen. He turned to face Athena. “Wow. Where did that come from? Feeling a bit stressed are we?”

She gave him an annoyed glare. “You haven’t wasted the last two years of your life on this blasted futile case, Legionnaire,” she pointed out, turning away from him in a huff.

Garth caught her shoulders, turning her around to face him. “True,” he granted with a smirk. “But I did spend a number of months in a death-like coma, so I think I win in our match-up of ‘Wasted. Lifetimes.’”

She laughed and brought up her hands to frame his face. “Perhaps it’s about time we stopped playing games altogether, Garthy,” she whispered huskily, as she leaned her face closer to his.

Garth allowed the barest hint of lip contact before drawing back. “I think that should leave an adequate enough facsimile of your infamous ‘mark,’ Athena,” Garth teased, as he glanced at the results in the mirror. He ignored the glare she shot him as he pointed her towards the exit. “Besides, at this rate, we’re already going to be late for brunch.”

“Says who?” Athena asked, abruptly breaking away, she swiftly made for the dressing room assigned to Garth. “I happen to know where a certain Legion member, left his flying belt.”

Garth groaned, but by the time he reached the door, Athena already had the device in her hands. “Hands off, Lady MacBeth, that’s official Legion property you’re handling there.”

“Whatever,” she casually flipped Lightning Lad’s cape over his head, whipped the belt around his waist, and fastened it over his midriff. “Hope I didn’t get the silly thing upside down.”

Garth finally managed to emerge from his flowing cape and inspected Athena’s handiwork. “It’s fine,” he decided. “But I’m not flying to you over to Stratford Castle. Saturn Girl has--”

“Pooh,” Athena crossed her arms over her chest and nodded her head with interest. “Don’t tell me that the high and mighty exalted Leader of the Legion actually deigned to mention my name.”

“Not directly,” Garth tried to remember the conversation from the previous night. “I suppose the closest she came, was chastising me for tabloid fodder ‘antics’ since arriving on Verbapotens.”

“‘Antic?’” Athena roared. “She considers me to be just a mere antic?” She grabbed Garth’s arm, forcefully dragging him towards the nearest backstage exit. “We’ll show her antics. Not only will Garthena not be late for brunch--we’re going to make a grand entrance with style,” she vowed.

“Great,” Garth mumbled without much enthusiasm, as he was jerked out the door of the theatre.


King James XVI Gardens; Stratford Castle:

“Well, I’m not sure about the two of you, but I’m starving!”

“Patience, Mister Brande,” advised Superboy, appreciating the spectacular view from the porch deck chairs which they were lounging upon. He waved an arm to indicate the groups of people milling about. “Not every guest is here yet, and brunch isn’t scheduled for a few more minutes.”

“So, says the one person present who has no real need to eat,” Brande mumbled. He turned to the other person present. “You’ve been awfully quiet today, lad, don’t you have anything to say?”

Brainiac Five sat with his elbows balanced on his knees, while his head rested on his steepled fingers. Brande repeated his question again before the Coluan responded. “My apologies, Mister Brande. I am afraid I have an extremely perplexing problem occupying my mind at this time.”

“Care to elaborate? My IQ may only be a fraction of yours, but sometimes a fresh point of view can lead to significant breakthroughs. And I can state that fact from personal experience.”

“Oh, Brainy’s just trying to think up a way to get back at Garth for roping him into supervising the equipment repairs on the theatre backstage, last night,” Superboy teased. “Am I right?”

“Something else else along those lines,” the green hued teen admitted.

“Shame on you, Brainiac Five,” Brande pointed his cane. “Such pettiness should be beyond you.”

“I’ll tell you what I find perplexing,” Superboy shook his head. “All this ‘Garthena’ nonsense.”

“You shouldn’t dwell on any of that tabloid twaddle, my boy,” Brande chuckled. “There’s nothing to it but staged publicity stunts, carefully calculated to raise awareness of the festival.”

Superboy grimaced. “That isn’t what Garth told me last night.”

“Ridiculous!” Brande exclaimed. “Believe me, Superboy, there is only one girl for that particular lad, and she bears the emblem of a ringed planet.” He tapped his cane sharply. “And I should know. I was there and witnessed how they reacted to each other on the first day they ever met.” He swung his cane to point his cane at Brainiac Five once again. “They share an undeniable attraction, quite similar to that between your cousin and our green friend here.”

“Actually,” Brainiac Five did not deviate from the pensive position he had adopted. “Several weeks ago, Kara informed me that she no longer possessed any romantic feelings towards me.” R.J. Brande and Superboy were stunned into silence. “Therefore, I have taken the only logical step of fully accepting her statement, and have proceeded to continue my life with merely her friendship.”

Brande shifted uncomfortably. “Brainiac Five, I’m sorry--I would have never guessed...”

Superboy was already laying a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Brainy. I’ll talk with her, make her realize what a huge mistake she has made...”

“That is not necessary,” Brainiac Five stated without emotion, maintaining his still pose. “I have always known our relationship had a limited span, I merely miscalculated its duration...”

“Mister Brande, Legionnaires,” two figures appeared at the entryway. “Director Crimway says that it is time to find your seats for brunch,” announced the bespectacled R.K.

“Yeah,” Celeste McCauley confirmed. “And wait until you see all the food they’re serving!”

“Miss Celeste, what a profound pleasure to encounter you once again,” greeted Brande. “But don’t tell me that means your Uncle Leland is on these premises as well.”

“No,” the girl giggled. “R.K. invited only me here last night.”

“Well then,” Brande snapped to his feet. “In that case, I am famished. Let’s go!”

“I require a few more moments of solitude,” Brainiac Five stated. “I will join you all shortly.”

Superboy looked as if he wanted to stay with his friend, but ultimately followed Mr. Brande down the porch steps towards the huge garden pavilion. “Later, Brainy.”

R.K. and Celeste followed behind them, until the girl heard the Legionnaire call out her name.

“Yes?”

Brainiac Five opened a concealed compartment in his force-shield belt and withdrew a long tube from it. “Portable tesseract,” he noted as the girl’s eyes widened. “I believe you requested this.”

She took the object eagerly, quickly unfurling its contents. It was an action photo of Dirk Morgna battling Kranyak inscribed: ‘To Celeste, from one fiery redhead to another. Love, Sun Boy.’

“Oh wow,” Celeste whispered. “How did you get this so quickly?”

“I contacted the Legion clubhouse this morning and told Dirk of your wish. “Then it was a simple matter to produce a hard copy image and have him sign it remotely via his dupli-writing stylus.”

“Thank you,” she rolled it up and placed it back. “I’ll always treasure it.” She skipped happily away, before abruptly stopping. Rushing back, she planted an impulsive peck on the Coluan’s cheek. “And you’re not too bad, either,” she added before racing away towards the meal tables.

Prudently, Brainiac Five waited until the slight discolorations on his face faded, before following.


“Where are they?”

Ayla Ranzz, sitting next to her parents on one side and a pair of empty place settings between herself and Vade Crimway on the other, could only shrug her shoulders at the Planetary Director’s question. “I reminded Garth about this event when I saw him earlier in the morning.”

Crimway looked down at the wrist-chrono. “They only have less than a minute–”

A loud thunderclap abruptly filled the air. Everyone present automatically began scanning the sky above. The sight that greeted them was a sparkling outline of what ultimately became a huge heart forming high over their heads. As soon as the golden shape was complete, twin jagged lightning bolts flowed downward from opposite sides to intersect in the middle of the figure.

“Good afternoon, Everyone!” Announced Athena Amore as she entered the large pavilion from the gardens. “Quite impressive, isn’t it? I told Garthy it would have been much more spectacular at night, but he couldn’t wait to show you all his handiwork.” She claimed the vacant spot nearest Crimway and set herself down demurely. “I’ll just assume that this seat is meant for me.”

“Athena,” Crimway, kept his voice calm. “Just what exactly is the meaning of all this?”

“I thought it rather obvious Vade,” the actress formed a brilliant smile. “This is the public debut of our ‘Garthena’ symbol which represents the amazing bond that has developed between Garth Ranzz, the Legion’s Lightning Lad, and myself, Athena Amore.” She gazed at it adoringly. “Of course, I also thought this should have waited until it was fully copyrighted, but Garth claims he doesn’t care one whit if it becomes public domain,” she dubiously shook her head. “But just wait until he notices ubiquitous slimy hucksters selling “Garthena” merchandise everywhere, then we will see who was right...” She ended her statement in mid-thought and fashioned an embarrassed grin. “Anyway, he insisted this gathering of family and friends was the perfect place to unveil it.”

“But that’s a possible navigational hazard--”

“Oh don’t worry about that Planetary Director,” she waved off his apprehension. “The energy bolts Garth used will only last about five minutes, and he verified with Nova Avon air traffic control that there wouldn’t be any activity in this area for a least another half hour.” She gently pulled him to his seat. “So just sit down, relax, enjoy that breathtaking yet ephemeral sight, and leisurely partake in this scrumptious looking brunch.” She reached over for a well frosted pastry.

“Actually, I was about to make a short speech, thanking our hosts and welcoming everyone here.”

“Oh,” Athena retracted her empty hand. “Well, don’t let me stop you, Director Crimway.”

“A trifle late for that my dear,” he sighed. “And where is our missing Legionnaire?”

“Just in time for brunch I hope,” Garth quipped as he landed in the empty chair between his sister and Athena. “Hello, Everybody! Did all of you see my masterpiece? Better look while you can.”

“Garth! I’m surprised at you!” Perla Ranzz scolded. “Vandalizing the sky itself with electrical graffiti? How could you even think such a prank would be acceptable?”

“I apologize, Mother Ranzz, but I must strenuously disagree.” Athena clasped Garth’s hands. “That is a fabulous, precious piece of art, made more so but its transitory nature, and the fact that it was forged by these very talented fingers--” she gazed at them lovingly. “--in our honor.” She brought them to her lips. “Besides, that was hardly a prank, not much more than an antic, really.”

Perla Ranzz looked touched by what Athena said. “Well, when you put it that way...”

Vade Crimway loudly cleared his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, now that we are all present, I would like to welcome all of you today to Stratford Castle, and acknowledge our gracious hosts, the first family of Verbapotens, Sir Robert and Lady Laura, and their son R.K....”


One Hour Before Commencement of ‘Twelfth Night or What You Will’
Prop Weapon Storage & Training Room; The Globe of The Bard Theatre:

“Less velocity, Kale, remember, Belch does possess the skills, but aging and atrophy have degraded his speed. He should look like he knows what he’s doing, but too slow to be effective.”

“Right,” Kale struggled to block a fierce lunge from Garth, now dressed as ‘Sebastian.’ “But can I at least take off some of this armor? I kind of getting overheated in this blasted thing.”

“You know my rules Prendo. Full dress rehearsal means full dress rehearsal. You wear the exact same costume training here as you do on the actual stage,” pronounced Scwan. “No exceptions.”

“Tyrant,” muttered Kale as he and Garth made their final choreographed moves, just before Olivia was scripted to halt the swordplay between Sebastian and her kinsman, Sir Toby Belch.

“Too, bad the actual fight between our characters occurs off-stage,” Garth smirked. “I’d win.”

“Fine,” Scwan nodded. “Now, we start the scene over again, and emote our lines, verbatim.”

A loud chuckle entered the room. “Before my brother faints from dehydration, Blademaster Scwan,” Zak Prendo playfully tapped on Kale’s armor. “Could you find a replacement weapon for ‘Antonio?’” He produced the pieces of once was an intact dueling rapier. “Please?”

“Not another one,” the Blademaster groaned. “I swear, Zak if it wasn’t for your constant clumsiness with my props, I would probably never be able to tell the brothers Prendo apart.”

“That’s not fair, Lukos, I’ve only broken three swords at most--they’re just so fragile.”

“Uh-huh,” Scwan noted with a sigh. He turned toward the storage area. “Give me a few minutes to locate something a bit more sturdy for your needs.” He disappeared within the chamber.

“Brother, if you wouldn’t mind?” Kale glared at his twin expectantly.

“The Blademaster said you shouldn’t take off your armor.”

“He also said it would take time to dig up a replacement for you, and I’m literally dying in here.”

“All right.” Zak undid the fasteners, freeing his twin from the encumbering costume.

“That’s better.” Kale inspected the chest piece in front of him. “It’s strange, when I’m playing John Falstaff I can wear armor all day long, but with any other role, I just find it so stifling.” He laughed, and shrugged. “I suppose that just one of my particular little foibles as a thespian.”

Garth merely nodded. “I suppose everyone’s allowed to have their own personal quirks. Do you guys ever miss Winath? When was the last time you two went back home?”

“We haven’t been back to that mudball for nearly a full decade,” Zak had picked up his brother’s rapier and made several tentative lunges. “Sure, after struggling for years, we eventually were acclaimed as Winath’s finest actors, but sadly, that really wasn’t much of an accomplishment.”

“Acting opportunities were few and far too repetitive there,” Kale agreed, buffing his chest plate with his sleeve. “The best decision of our lives was deciding to emigrate and re-energize our careers on Verbapotens. The variety and quality of roles available were simply beyo

Curtain Time of “Twelfth Night or What You Will”
The Globe of the Bard Theatre:


Discreetly tucked away in the wings of the stage. Garth witnessed Vade Crimway stride across the stage and address the crowd as he did the night before. He thanked the audience for making the Bard’s Globe’s Shakespearean Festival of Twins a resounding success. As before, Crimway introduced several noted personalities which were attending, with a spotlight illuminating their faces to the rest of the people present. Although the list was somewhat different from before, as Professor Pasvock had returned home, and Captain Baslim had been recalled to his posting on the Dominion Front. Leland MacCauley III was now recognized as a guest of honor. Afterwards, the Planetary Director set the scene, and stalked offstage, where he immediately slipped into his theatrical director mode, calmly and efficiently taking command of the tumult of activity hidden from view backstage. Keeping an eye out for anomalous activities, Garth still managed to enjoy his sister’s performance as the feisty Viola, who after being shipwrecked on the shores of Illyria, adopts the guise of Cesario, a young man who quickly finds favor with the ruler of the land, Duke Orsino. Watching Burton and his sister interact, more than once, Garth felt like casting a few bolts to break-up the lingering displays of physical ‘platonic’ affection Orsino always seemed to favoring his newest servant with. He found it quite amusing to witness Athena as Olivia, the object of the Duke’s desire, become smitten with Orsino’s romantic emissary, Cesario, who as her true self, Viola, had fallen in love with her new master. ‘Twelfth Night’ featured performances from three actors who had not been in the previous play, Herriot Wight as the much-abused Malvolio, Ruj Waftik as the jester, Feste, and Paulo Lesharney as Sir Toby Belch’s primary crony, Fabian. In a rare expanded role, Lukos Scwan had been cast as the awkward Sir Andrew Augencheek, another would-be suitor for the Lady Olivia. While Kale had been given the plum role of Toby Belch, Zak, had the more minor role as Antonio, (the man who rescues Garth’s Sebastian from the sea). However, this did allow the twins the chance to cross swords in front of an audience, albeit Zak would disguise his face behind a full false beard. Finally, the First Act ended, with no overt actions taken by the Confider and Garth was ready to step on stage for the first time that night. Joined by his rescuer, Antonio, Sebastian, too, found himself in Illyria, unwittingly following the path of his twin sister whom he believed drowned. In a ridiculously short span of time, Sebastian is taken for Cesario and vice versa, spiraling the action of the play forward as he becomes embroiled in both the Orsino-Cesario-Olivia romantic triangle, and the madcap antics of Sir Toby Belch and his followers against the morose Malvolio.

“Spot anything?” Athena asked Garth, as they were watching Kylina, playing Olivia’s maid, Maria, plotting with Sir Toby against their tormentor, Malvolio in the final scene of the Third Act.

“Zippo,” the Legionnaire answered a bit apprehensively, realizing time was surely running out. “Vade runs a very smooth operation.” On stage, Sir Toby’s dialogue mentioned the Biblical demon known as ‘Legion,’ and Garth could have sworn Kale looked directly at him. But it was the lines which shortly followed which caused the pair to gape at each other in utter shock

“How do you Malvolio? How is't with you What, man; defy the devil: confider, he’s an enemy to all mankind.”

“Did Kale just say what I thought he did?” Garth whispered.

“‘Consider,’” Athena murmured. “He was supposed to say consider...”

“Ha!” Zak Prendo was jubilant as he elbowed Burton. “Kale fluffed first! He owes me a tenner.”

“So what?” Burton shrugged. “You’re still way behind in that regard, Zak.”

Frowning, Vade Crimway made a notation on the Omnicom he carried.

Garth meandered towards the director as nonchalantly as he could. “What’s that for?”

“Screwing up a line is worth ten demerits in this acting troupe--Kale is well aware of that! And on a special night like tonight...” Shaking his head, Crimway added another ten for good measure.

“But no one has even noticed,” Garth pointed out. He watched Lukos Scwan, as Sir Andrew Augencheek, crossed the stage and joined the group with a parchment in his hands. Both the performers and the audience continued on completely unperturbed, as if nothing was amiss at all.

“I noticed, Legionnaire.” Crimway stated, his mouth a firm unforgiving line.

Garth returned to Athena and shrugged. “Nobody seems to care except Crimway.”

“It can’t be a coincidence,” Athena whispered. “Perhaps a covert verbal signal of some kind?”

“To whom? Zak is standing right over there gloating.”

“Perhaps we are making to much of this,” Athena bit her lip. “It’s only one incorrect letter...”

“Transposing an ‘f’ for an ‘s’ does not follow the linguistic law posited by the Jacob Grimm,” Brainiac Five informed them. “A fricative ‘z’ would have been the more likely possibility.”

“Brainy!” Garth clapped his friend’s shoulder. “What are you doing here?”

“When I discerned an anomalous archaic term, a term known to be of extreme interest to the ICC,” he canted his head slightly to indicate the presence of Athena Amore.

Agent Torr abruptly struck Garth’s chest with the back of her hand. “You told him what I am?”

“Of course not,” Garth merely shrugged. “He’s Brainiac Five.”

“I thought it prudent to ascertain if the repairs I undertook the night before were maintaining their structural integrity. Therefore, I offered my presence should anything untoward actually occur.”

“How thoughtful,” Garth leaned close. “Keep watch on everything backstage,” he whispered.

“Rest assured, I will remain vigilant for any indications of difficulty, not matter how minute.”

Confident that Brainy would keep an eye on things, Garth turned his attention to the Prendo twins. Offstage, Zak still seemed tickled by his brother’s mistake. As much as he wanted to confront Kale immediately for his apparent faux pas, Garth knew it to wait until at least Intermission of the performance, which was at the end of the current Act. By this point of the play, Olivia was now covertly pursuing Cesario, making the disguised Viola a target of Belch’s gang of pranksters.

“Come on, Athena,” Ayla approached them abruptly. “That’s our cue.”

Shortly after the pair stepped on stage, Kale, and Lukos stated a few lines and exited. Before Garth could even begin to question Kale, his twin Zak was already spitefully rubbing his face in his goof. Vade told them to quiet down and get ready to go back on. Athena returned, leaving Ayla alone on stage, to be shortly accosted by Kale and Paulo, as Sir Toby and Fabian. The ensuing exits and entrances of the characters in the final scene were elaborate and quick, but it ultimately ended with Cesario being menaced by Sir Toby and his cohorts. Spotting his young friend in apparent danger, Antonio leapt to ‘his’ defense and proceeded to draw his sword. Here Crimway took the opportunity to perhaps deviate from the original intent of the playwright, by having the Blademaster conceive of an elaborate sword fight for Sir Toby and Antonio, as a treat for the Prendo twins who portrayed them. The duel began fast and furiously, with grand swings made by both combatants, but to reflect the age of the characters, comically, their energy gradually peters out, until both can hardly stand. At that point, the law officers arrive and an exhausted Sir Toby states his line ('I’ll be with you anon.’) to Antonio before collapsing. Antonio is quickly recognized as an avowed foe of Orsino, and is arrested. But his cruelest injury comes from the betrayal by the youth he aided, while despite being grateful, denies all knowledge of him.
With Viola’s hopes raised by Antonio’s mention of the name Sebastian, the Third Act ends with Belch declaring Cesario a craven coward, and thus an easy target for intimidation...

Garth was about to confront Prendo when Athena pulled him away. “What are you doing? “I was just about to interrogate Kale on the ‘Confider’ question.”

“That will have to wait until later,” she displayed a bracelet set with different precious gemstones, on which a ruby clearly appeared to be blinking. “Chief Kolar wants to see us immediately.”

The pair headed to Athena’s dressing room as discreetly as possible, but garnered knowing looks from various people as they passed by. Once inside, Athena swiftly sat before her mirror and intoned: “Access code: Torr Verdant Veldt.” The visage of Kolar barely defined itself before Athena spoke. “What’s the emergency, Chief? We’ve finally got a possible break in the case--”

“There has been some other recent disturbing developments as well Agent Torr,” proclaimed Kolar in a grim tone. “Which may portend of dire implications, for our Legionnaire friend here.”

Garth frowned. “I don’t follow, Chief.”

“Can you confirm your whereabouts of approximately eighteen hours ago?”

“I was aboard the Legion Cruiser docked at the Nova Avon Spaceport contacting the Legion clubhouse at around that time, it should be recorded in the ship’s communication logs.”

Kolar looked relieved. “Excellent, transmit that information directly to ICC headquarters as soon as you possibly can. That data should amply provide you with an unimpeachable alibi.”

“Alibi?” Garth didn’t conceal his confusion. “What would I need an alibi for?”

“For the murder of Tiberius Pasvock. He has been found dead on his ship, which was discovered adrift on the edge of the Fornax system by ICC Operative Red Sun. The apparent cause of death was electrocution, and numerous samples matching your DNA were recovered from the scene.”

“The Confider is trying to frame Garth for the murder of the latest victim?” Athena shook her head in disbelief. “That’s brilliant--diabolically twisted and wrong--but still undeniably brilliant.”

“But why? I never even met the Professor,” Garth insisted. “What possible motive could I have?”

“Unfortunately, an extremely compelling, and incriminating one,” Kolar opened a file before him. “The government of Brok had recently negotiated with Pasvock for full access to his life’s work, he requested and was granted complete amnesty for any and all crimes committed whilst under the thrall of his former master, Zaryan the Conqueror.” The ICC Chief looked directly at Garth. “It was Pasvock who designed and constructed the freeze ray that ‘killed’ you, Lightning Lad.”

“Add insidious to the Confider’s profile,” quipped Athena, as Garth was too shocked to speak.

“I never knew,” Garth whispered. “Didn’t really pondered those specific aspects overmuch...”

“Yeah, a jury would certainly buy that explanation, Garthy.”

“Fortunately, I deem this incident within the jurisdiction of the ongoing Confider investigation, and thus am exercising my prerogative to classify certain details of the matter until further notice.”

“At least until we get our hands on this Confider,” Garth muttered in an ominous tone. “Clearly, our foe had little difficulty in acquiring my DNA.” He began pacing the floor. “When I left the reception last night, shortly before midnight, local time, all of our suspects were still present.”

“Yes, I talked with each one after you left, except for the Prendos who went off with Blademaster Scwan somewhere.” Athena frowned. “Someone I did not see at all was Professor Pasvock.”

“Neither did I,” Garth agreed. “Chief, can you find out when Pasvock’s ship left Verbapotens?”

“Exactly twenty-seven minutes after the final curtain of ‘The Comedy of Errors’ fell.”

“Hmmph,” Athena snorted slightly. “Why did Tiberius Pasvock bother coming at all?”

“That is precisely the question I intend to ask our esteemed Planetary Director,” Garth declared.


The pair quickly signed off with the ICC Chief and headed back for the main stage. Various stage hands were busy setting up an elaborate courtyard where Sebastian and Sir Toby Belch were to battle to a draw in the first scene of Act Four. As with the previous duel between Belch and Antonio, Crimway had opted to add a bit more action than Shakespeare intended, and Scwan had devised an entertaining encounter. Both Blademaster Scwan and Director Crimway were there, supervising the precise placement of props which would shortly be rolled, smashed, and bisected.

“People, less than five minutes before the end of Intermission! Let’s get this stage set and ready!”
After waiting until Crimway was done barking directions, Garth caught his attention. “There you are Garth.” He placed an arm over the Legionnaire’s shoulders. “In mere moments you and Kale will engage in a bit thrilling swordplay which the Immortal Bard may have not originally envisioned, but would no doubt have conceived of, had he a true hero of your caliber in his cast.”

“Sebastian is hardly the star of this play, Vade.”

“Nonsense,” Crimway scoffed. “Every role is important.”

Garth decided to let the matter drop. “Well, you’re the Planetary Director. Say, I never got to meet Professor Pasvock, did he explain why didn’t he stay for the whole festival weekend?”

“No, not really,” Vade was now caught up in the data flashing over his omnicom. “Actually, he made a special point of asking me to arrange a face-to-face meeting with you, Garth, which I told him was impossible until after the end of tonight’s performance.”

“Was it an urgent matter?”

“Didn’t get that impression,” Vade waved Blademaster Scwan to his side to compare final notes. “Seem to recall something about making amends, as if he wanted to set things right between you.”

“But we never even met.”

“Garth wants to know more about Tiberius Pasvock, you talked with him, didn’t you, Lukos?”

“Gaunt, balding, nervous little fellow? Aye, we spoke about the relative tensile strengths of several alloys,” the Blademaster shrugged. “He seemed to know his stuff well enough.”

“Did he say why he was cutting his visit short?” Garth asked.

“A topic for later discussion gentlemen,” Crimway glanced at his chrono. “Lukos get into your armor. Somebody find Ruj and make certain he keeps his fool’s hat on this time!” He grabbed Garth by the arm and led him offstage. “Keep you bag of coins ready, Garth, and make me proud.” Vade placed his fingers into his mouth and produced a shrill whistle. “All right, people! One minute until the curtain rises for Act Four-- let’s get everything finished up and perfect!”

Before he truly realized it, Garth found himself pushed on stage with Ruj Waftik, loping along side him as the curtain rose to polite applause. Believing him to be Cesario, Feste the Clown had led Sebastian to the gates of Olivia’s estate. After tossing the Clown a few coins to leave him alone, Sebastian is then accosted by Knights Belch and Augencheek and their crony, Fabian. Thinking they are facing the timid Cesario, Sir Andrew strikes their target, as is astonished when said target strikes him back and draws a dagger. Of course, only Garth and Scwan were aware of the irony of the Blademaster being threatened by his own blade. Sir Toby then grabs Sebastian’s arm, whereupon their quarry breaks free and draws his rapier. Belch follows suit, and from there the unimagined by Shakespeare battle, carefully choreographed by Lukos Scwan, is joined. During the course of the duel, Paulo, as the unarmed Fabian is tossed into a fountain, Lukos, himself as Augencheek, it flattened by a rolling collection of wine barrels, while Kale’s Belch destroys nearly everything in sight in his clumsy attempts to engage Garth’s Sebastian. Ultimately, just as Sebastian is about to press his advantage, Athena, as Lady Olivia enters the scene, and demands them to stop and sheathe their weapons. Humiliated the Knights and Fabian leave, while Sebastian is instantly entranced by Olivia, who is gratified to see her interest towards Cesario finally returned. Smitten, Sebastian is only too eager to follow the woman who has captured his heart anywhere, bringing the first scene of the Fourth Act to an end.

“Garth!” Athena warned, abruptly giving him a rough shove, as the curtains were falling behind them. She gave a slight gasp, as she fell forward. Despite the rush of stage hands rushing to set the stage for the next scene, the Legionnaire managed to catch her before she struck the floor.

“Athena, what just happened?” Garth gave way as Crimway and Brainiac Five swiftly approached them. He suddenly noticed the smoking dark mark on her back.

“Had a sudden vision, knew you were the target... from above...”

Brainiac Five was already applying a patch on the wound. “The catwalks--Garth, before the shooter escapes, now! I have matters under control here.”

“But--”

Athena locked her eyes with his. “Go...”

With his flying belt still concealed under his costume, Lightning Lad soared upward into the darkness. Scanning the poorly lit catwalks area, he discerned movement and spotted someone running with a long object in their arms. Instantly he sent a few bolts to intersect with the fugitive and brought his target down. Furious at himself for allowing the Confider to strike once more, he flew to his subdued foe. A top of the line laser rifle lay nearby the lithe fallen form. In the illumination of the energy shimmering from his fists the facial features of his quarry were revealed, and Garth audibly gasped in complete utter shock. “Ayla?”

At the sound of her name, his sister’s eyelids fluttered. “What?” She lolled into her knees. “Garth? What happened? Why do I feel like I’ve just been--” Her eyes widened when she realized what had occurred. “You blasted me!” Her hand shot out and poked Garth’s shoulder in childish retribution. “Why did you do that for?”

“Ayla, listen to me, it’s important. What do you last remember?”

“I was watching you and Kale tear up the stage when I thought I saw something moving above. Wary because of what happened last night, I used by powers to float up and I saw...” Her eyes dropped to the weapon which lay beside her. “Someone dressed in all black body armor targeting that gun at something in the wings below... Oh my Lord! Was anyone hurt?”

“Athena was shot; Brainy’s taking care of her,” Garth explained. “Can you describe the shooter?”

“Who cares about that? Garth, the girl you profess to love has just been hurt--”

“And with Brainiac Five, she is receiving the best possible care,” he pointed out to his hysterical sister. “The best way we can help now is to identify who fired that shot.”

“But Athena could be dying--” Polite applause cut her off. Below them, the curtains were rising and Kylina and Ruj as Maria, and Feste (masquerading as the fraudulent ‘Sir Topas’) were stepping into the stage now redressed as the cell within Olivia’s household Sir Toby had constructed to confine the now proclaimed ‘insane’ Malvolio. “Vade hasn’t stopped the play? That’s completely irresponsible--”

“And well within his rights as Planetary Director,” Garth grasped his sibling’s shoulders. “Ayla, listen to me: can you give any kind of description of the person you witnessed using this rifle? Anything at all, I mean, could you even tell if it was a man or a woman?”

“No,” she shook her head. “All I saw was a black blur which dropped this thing and took off. I was in the midst of chasing whoever it was down when somebody blasted me from behind.”

“But you had this in your hands when I stunned you, why did you pick it up for?”

“So it wouldn’t fall down onto the stage, silly.” She looked down below to where Kale as Toby was verbally torturing Herriot Wight’s Malvolio, who stood behind bars in his makeshift cell. “We’d better get down there, and find out exactly what’s going on now from Vade directly.”

Garth nodded his assent, and the Ranzz siblings floated downward to the wings. A couch had been placed where Athena now lay prostrate, being ministered to by Brainiac Five. Crimway, Zak Prendo and Coriolanus Burton stood nearby with concerned looks on their faces. While he went towards Athena, his sister headed towards the Planetary Director. “How is she, Brainy?”

The Coluan was waving a small device over his patient’s back. “Despite the rudimentary resources I was burdened with, her status has been stabilized. The beam grazed her left lung, but struck no major arteries. I am in the process of sealing the wound with this dermal regenerator, however, despite my medical advice, your friend refuses to take any form of pain suppressant.”

“Have to keep my mind alert--can’t enunciate my lines if I’m sedated,” Athena quipped weakly.

“Yes, excruciating pain will keep you alert, Miss Amore, as well as represent valid reason to refrain from partaking in any form of physical exertion. Can you not understand that your current condition is extremely tenuous, and that any activity at all may cause internal bleeding?”

“Of course, I do,” Athena produced the closest approximation of a smile she could muster under the current circumstances, on her lips. “But we all know the old cliche--the first and foremost important maxim to all who would aspire to living the life of a thespian: The Show Must Go On.”

“Yeah,” Garth ran a gentle reassuring hand through her mussed hair onto her heated cheek. “But what say we just focus on the ‘living’ part of that sentiment, and get you to a Medi-center?”

“No, I’m saying that I’m fine and want to continue the performance--Garth, I need to finish it.”

“That’s crazy, Athena,” insisted Ayla as she and Crimway approached. “You’ve just been shot; even Director Crimway agrees that the show should be stopped right now.”

“Actually, Ayla, I merely stated that it was a viable possibility,” corrected Crimway. “And that I would ultimately concede to the wishes of Athena, as she’s the one most affected by the decision.”

“Then it settled.” Athena grit her teeth as she sat up on the couch. “We finish the play.”

“Not with me you won’t,” declared Ayla, stalking off. “I refuse to take any part in this insanity.” Crimway and the rest of the crowd followed after her, already calling for her to chance her stance. Only Lightning Lad remained to watch Brainiac Five trying to convince his patient to calm down.

Garth was tempted to join his sister, but the look on Athena’s face stopped him. “What?”

“The second scene is ending soon, so you only have about twenty minutes until you have to be back on stage for the start of the third scene.” Athena pointed in the direction everyone else had taken. “That’s all time you have to go after Ayla and convince her to change her mind.”

“Why?” Garth shrugged. “I can’t say I disagree with her. It is too dangerous for you to continue.”

“That is my choice, Garth, not hers.” Athena pointed out in a pained voice. “Would this even be an issue if I were Saturn Girl?” She challenged. “You would respect her decision to risk her life.”

Garth knew that this particular moment would be an exceedingly poor time to differentiate his feelings between Imra and Terri. “Don’t bring her into this, she has nothing to do with--”

“Answer the question, Garthy.”

Shaking his head with a sigh, Garth set the rifle down by Brainy. “I found this up above, odds are it’s the attempted murder weapon--see what you can find out from it. I have to go find my sister.”

Garth didn’t have to look far. Gathered in front of the dressing room assigned to Ayla, Crimway, Burton, and Zak Prendo were incessantly knocking, demanding, and beseeching. Yet, for all the trio’s cajoling, no forthcoming response emerged from behind the apparently locked door.

“Gentlemen,” the others stepped aside as he approached. “Allow my sister and I, a few moments of privacy, if you please.” He confidently rapped on the door. “Ayla, it’s Garth, let me in.”

The door opened a crack, and Ayla peered out. “I’m not going to change my mind.”

“Open the door, Sis, what I have to say to you right now, is not meant for the ears of others.”

With an annoyed growl, Ayla reluctantly allowed him entry and firmly shut the door behind him. “You’re never be able to convince me that I’m wrong, Garth. It is complete madness for Athena to even think about stepping back on that stage, considering the obvious threat to her health.”

“Agreed.”

“I mean after all, she’s just been shot--” Ayla stopped in mid-sentence. “What did you say?”

“I completely agree with you, it is far too dangerous for her to continue,” Garth declared with affirmative nods of his head. “However, if it is Athena’s wish to risk her own life doing what she loves most--performing on stage--you have no right to take that choice away from her, Ayla.”

“I’m not doing that,” she protested. “I’m merely refusing to participate in her attempt at suicide.”

“No, you are letting emotions influence your actions,” Garth corrected. “Believe me, Ayla, I understand exactly what you are feeling,” he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Then what precisely am I feeling, Smarty-Garthy?” Ayla demanded, shaking his hand off.

“Well, I couldn’t define it with a single word, but I would say mortal dread tinged with guilt. You’re afraid if something tragic does befall Athena on stage, that somehow you will be responsible,” Garth caught her in a hug. “But that just isn’t true,” He let out a bemused snort. “Not unless you were the cowardly craven piece of slime who pulled the trigger in the first place.”

“And if something does happen to her, Garth?” Ayla asked in a subdued voice. “What then?”

“Then we make sure she receives the best possible care, and she knows that her friends are there for her,” he answered. “Which includes supporting decisions of Athena’s we don’t agree with.”

“I still just don’t know.” She placed her head on his shoulder. “What happened, Garth? This weekend began so wonderfully--a chance to fulfill a lifelong dream.” She clung to him tighter. “Yet, with last night’s incident, and now Athena being shot--everything’s become so surreal.”

Garth decided against revealing that he had been the true target of the sniper. “I don’t know, Sis,” he replied. “But we can’t worry about that at the moment. The entire festival is hinging on us finishing these final two scenes. Have you considered the possible loss of funds for the orphans?”

She pulled back to face him. “What are you talking about? Mister Brande would never deprive--”

“I was referring to the most recently announced sponsor, Leland McCauley III.”

“Oh,” Ayla put a hand to her mouth. “I hadn’t thought about him. Knowing his depraved sense of humor, he’s liable to instigate a slew of frivolous lawsuits just for the hell of it...”

“And we can’t forget that capacity crowd out there sitting in the theatre seats--in particular Mom and Dad--not to mention the intergalactic audience consisting of countless sentients--presumably including our own Legionnaire pals-- watching the performance via a myriad of other mediums.”

“Don’t you think you’re spreading matters a bit too thickly?”

“Time’s a wastin’ Ayla.” Garth cupped her chin. “Besides, we both know that you’re going back.”

“Do we?” She rolled her eyes. “How are my refusals leaving that impression?”

“By virtue of the fact they are being made while you are still in full Cesario costume,” Garth pointed out a tad smugly. “When you have had ample opportunity to change out of it.”

Ayla mouth went agape, as she realized he was correct. “All right, I admit it.” She covered her face in her hands, slowly shaking her head. “I’m dying to get out there on that stage and perform.”

“Then what’s really stopping you? It’s more than just Athena being injured, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Ayla lowered her hands and sniffed. “Did you ever wonder, Garth, where I was when you had your showdown with Zaryan the Conqueror?” She gazed up at her brother, expectantly.

“Not really,” Garth shrugged. “I just assumed that you were at home with Mom and Dad.”

“No, I was here, on The Bard’s Globe.”

“What? Mom and Dad never mentioned--”

“They never knew. Director Crimway offered me a role as Rosalind in ‘As You Like It.’”

“But you said you hadn’t been to Nova Avon before--”

“And I hadn’t. The part was for a small venue on the other side of Verbapotens. It was just a tiny opportunity to stick my foot in the door of the acting profession, and I took it. I intended to surprise everyone, so I had Vade make arrangements to seem that I had won a week’s ski vacation on Xolnar in a contest.” She smiled a bit wistfully. “I went through much of what I’ve done these past few days, including having a faux torso made up for me for when Rosalind pretends to be a male character named ‘Ganymede.’” Ayla’s expression became slightly askew. “Of course, there were several differences between how one is treated as an invited guest performer of the Planetary Director in a production staged in the fabled Globe of the Bard Theatre in Nova Avon, instead of an inexperienced ingenue in a play held at the Silver Pearl Theater in New Elizabethtown...”

Fourteen Months Before...
Silver Pearl Theater, New Elizabethtown, Verbapotens:

“Emote, Farm Girl, emote!” Director Sean O’Steele demanded, utilizing the ‘codename’ he had bestowed upon the neophyte leading lady that had been saddled upon his struggling production. “And don’t slouch so much--you are, presumably, pretending to be a male--not a mule!”

“What does that mean? Was that comment supposed to be constructive?” Ayla replied in a long suffering tone. She was on stage, dressed as Ganymede, in a scene depicting the Forest of Arden.

“You are, quite literally, the girl fresh from the farm,” the director threw his hands up. “You should be able to figure it out for yourself.” He set his hands together to amplify his voice. “All right, everyone! Now that the tender ego of our newfound star has been placated, back to the top!”

With a superhuman effort, Ayla barely managed to keep silent, as well as resisting the urge to expose her secret powers by discovering if a certain nimrod named O’Steele would make an effective lightning rod. The rehearsal concluded without any further assaults on her dignity, and as she was heading into the wings, she noticed a group or people surrounding the director, displaying holos of her face. Intrigued, she couldn’t stop herself from approaching closer to them.

“Yes, I like the electrical font on this one, but this picture makes Farm Girl a bit too ruddy.” He pointed to the projection closest to him. “Use the image on this, with that other font from that.”

“No, you can’t use any of those.”

O’Steele looked up and shook his head dismissively. “Did I ask you for your input, Farm Girl?”

“‘Starring Ayla Ranzz, twin sister of the Legion’s Lightning Lad,’” she recited the flashing text under the play’s title. “You can’t use those to advertise this play, Planetary Director Crimway assured me that the fact that Lightning Lad is my twin brother would not be publicized.”

“Don’t be so naive--your secondary connection to the Legion is the only reason why you are now standing on my stage, ” O’Steele sneered. “I can assure you it is not due to your alleged talent.”

“Vade Crimway, himself, cast me as Rosalind in this play, not you.”

“And where is he now? He’s in Nova Avon with his celebrity acting troupe utilizing the finest theatrical venue on Verbapotens, while you, Farm Girl, have been foisted on me.” He patted himself on his chest. “I am the Director here, therefore every aspect of this production will be in accordance with even the slightest of my whims. Thus you will do precisely what I say or you can go back to the mudball you came from, and if so, good riddance!” He glared at Ayla, who was struggling her utmost to remain calm, but was steadily losing the battle. “What’s the matter little girl? Just realizing that acting is not all instant fortune and fame? Well grow up--and don’t expect any help from our vaunted Planetary Director. That old fossil would never deign to bestow his pompous presence among the lowly ranks of us true thespians--there’s not enough spotlight!”

“Oh, I don’t know, Sean, there’s ample enough illumination here for me to see you quite clearly.”

“Planetary Director Crimway,” O’Steele nervously swung his arms wide. “Welcome to the Silver Pearl. You have arrived just in time to observe one of my new dramatic workshop exercises--”

Crimway lifted a hand. “I have no time for dawdling excuses, O’Steele.” He walked past the sweating director. “I need to speak with Miss Ranzz in private, please everyone clear the theater.” He made sure they were alone, before addressing the girl still standing on the stage. “Ayla--”

“I’m sorry, Director Crimway,” Ayla gushed. “I appreciate this chance to live out one of my dreams, but I don’t think I’m ready. If I can’t abide dealing with a pretentious twerp like that, how am I going to sublimate myself enough to work with a truly talented director?”

“Ayla, please listen.” Crimway’s dark features were taut with emotion. “There was an attack on Earth just a few hours ago, by a would-be tyrant calling himself Zaryan the Conqueror.”

“‘Zaryan the Conqueror?’ With a name like that, the Legion must have made short work of that joker.” Ayla giggled. “Zaryan the Conqueror,” she repeated mockingly in a menacing tone.

“There was a some kind of confusion among the Legion membership,” Crimway continued. “Initially, only the new leader Saturn Girl, went to face the lead vessel. But abruptly, your brother, Lightning Lad, appeared. He overtook her position and destroyed Zaryan’s ship single-handedly.”

“Figures, Garth can be such a glory hound sometimes.”

“He stopped the invasion, but was caught in the beam of a lethal energy weapon,” Crimway lowered his head. “I am truly sorry, Ayla, but Garth died shortly after they returned to Earth.”

“What! No...” She jumped off the stage, and began battering the Planetary Director with her fists. “You’re lying! Garth’s not dead--I would feel it! Why are you saying these awful things to me?”

Crimway caught both her hands in one of his larger ones. “You have my deepest sympathies, Ayla but all of it is true.” She was weeping uncontrollably as he released her. “I’ve already sent for your things, my private ship is waiting to return you to Winath as soon as you reach the spaceport.”

“Thank you,” Ayla murmured numb with shock. Together they turned and exited the theater.


Twelve Weeks Later...

“Listen, I realize that you going through a difficult period right now Far--Ayla,” Sean O’Steele quickly corrected with a friendly smile. “But you signed a contract with my repertory company,” the director produced a hard copy of the document and slammed it down on his desk in front of where she was seated. “Which means legally, the next two years of your theatrical career belong to me.” He leaned back into the chair of his office with a smug expression. “Which I am certain, our esteemed Planetary Director, would only be too happy to confirm for you right now.”

“I am not here to take sides, Sean,” Vade Crimway bowed his head slightly. “I am simply here as an interested, yet impartial mediator to help resolve this dispute between you and Miss Ranzz.”

“Thank you, Director Crimway,” Ayla smiled. “The truth is, in the wake of my brother Garth’s death, I am seriously reconsidering my choice of pursuing the acting profession–”

“Wait just a minute there, “ O’Steele straightened up.

Crimway raised his hand. “Allow the lady an opportunity to have her say, you will have a chance to delineate your side afterwards.” He turned towards her chair. “Exactly why is it that you wish to be released from your contract, Ayla? You were quite eager and anxious to sign it originally.”

“The loss of my twin has caused me to reassess the most important priorities of my life,” Ayla lowered her head. And I have come to the conclusion that acting is no longer one of them.”

“Then what has replaced it?” Director Crimway asked.

“I’m not certain yet,” she admitted. “But I intend to honor Garth’s memory and heroic legacy.”

“Which you could do right here,” O’Steele insisted. “Even though three whole months is more than a generous amount of time to allow for mourning a loved one, I would be more than willing to grant you a few more weeks to continue pondering that question.” He smirked. “And you should be aware of some additional variables to factor in. For example, along with your salary, your living arrangements, dining, and clothing stipends, have all been significantly upgraded. Additionally Director Crimway has kindly offered to stage your debut performance in the capital city of Nova Avon, at the most venerated venue on Verbapotens; The Globe of the Bard Theatre.”

“Yes,” Crimway nodded. “I know that performing there has long been a dream of yours, Ayla.”

“Once,” Ayla admitted with a frown. “But why now, Director Crimway? Didn’t you warn me initially that it could take years to reach such a point in my fledgling career?” She gazed at them each in turn. “What changes have occurred which affects my acting prospects so drastically?”

“Not to seem indelicate, My Dear,” Crimway shifted uncomfortably. “But with the tragic fate befalling your twin brother, the bankable nature of the Ranzz name has only increased.”

“Yeah, that should be obvious, even to you,” O’Steele pointed out.

“Director Crimway, do you recall when I signed my contract that I was given your personal guarantee that my link to the Legion of Super-Heroes was to be downplayed as little as possible?”

“Yes, back then it was simpler to keep such a pledge. But with the rise of Lightning Lad to virtual intergalactic iconic status since his noble sacrifice, it would be all but impossible to honor now.”

“Yet at the time, Director O’Steele was openly designing an advertising campaign for the play around my being the twin of a Legionnaire, in direct contravention of your promise made to me.”

Crimway arched an eyebrow and gave O’Steele a withering glare. “Is that correct, Sean?”

O’Steele threw up his hands. “How else was I going to sell tickets? Besides, when Ms Ranzz was given a leave of absence, the campaign became moot, and was never officially begun.”

“That is true,” Crimway nodded. “Thus the terms of your contract were not really violated.”

“If I was loathe to acknowledge my sisterly bond to Lightning Lad when my twin was alive, what in the blazes makes you think I’d be more willing to exploit Garth’s name now that he is dead?”

“Is that not a rather crass question?” Director Crimway countered.

“Perhaps, but I would appreciate a candid reply, Planetary Director.”

Vade Crimway shook his head. “I honestly cannot give you an adequate answer for that, Ayla.”

“Well I most certainly, can!” O’Steele leapt up from his chair and slammed his palms against the desk’s surface. “The same things which sent you packing from the family farm to the bright lights of the Bard’s Globe in the first place, Girlie--your desire for fame, fortune, and superstardom!”

“You don’t know me!” She retorted with a angry snarl upon her lips.

“Don’t I?” O’Steele crossed his arms with a smug expression. “You’re from Winath, so I’ve seen twice the number of desperate farm girls, just like you, willing and able to do anything--anything at all to get a tiny toehold in this business,” he ogled at her in an appraising manner. “But thanks to the over hyped heroics of your twin brother, Ranzz, you have something those hordes of hopefuls do not--an audience of galactic proportions already eager to embrace anything you do.”

“Sean, you’re talking nonsense!” Director Crimway chided in a warning tone.

“No, I’m not. Millions of sentients out there desire to make some sort of bond with the late lamented Legionnaire, Lightning Lad. However, since that is impossible, we offer them the next best thing, his own twin sister--all they have to do to establish a connection is purchase a ticket.”

“You are truly a disgusting amoral creature.” Ayla growled through clenched teeth.

“A disgusting amoral creature who owns your bony nass for the next two years. Right, Vade?”

“No.” He scowled. “As Planetary Director of Verbapotens, I declare this contract null and void.”

“You can’t do that!” O’Steele protested. “This is a fully legal and binding document!”

“On The Bard’s Globe, I am the law,” Crimway decreed with finality. “I suggest you look it up.”

“But she’s a potential goldmine! The possible revenue you’re just carelessly tossing away--”

“I knew Garth Ranzz, he was not a particularly talented thespian, but he possessed high moral character and integrity; he would not approve of the exploitation of his sister or family surname.”

Ayla smiled and patted his hand. “Thank you, Director Crimway.”

“My pleasure. I wish you good fortune in your future endeavors to honor your twin. But should you ever wish to dust off some of your forgone dreams, the door will always be open, dear Ayla.”

“Oho, so that’s the case is it? I might have known!”

“What are you blathering about now Sean?”

“I saying that I get it. I’m on to your oh so clever and subtle plan, Crimway.”

“Apparently, I’m cleverer and subtler than I presumed myself to be. Care to explain in what way?”

“First you release Farm Girl here from her theatrical obligations to me, then a month or two later she gets a change of heart and decides to give acting another try. You, of course grant her a spot in your fabled repertory troupe joining such luminaries as Amore, Bizroy, Wight, and of course, her fellow fungi farmers the Prendos. And you all live happily ever after in Nova Avon, in the most prestigious theatre on the planet, raking in all the revenue and acclaim, while I, the one who first discovered and took a chance on her, waste away here in this hellish backwater!”

“That is an outlandish allegation!”

“Discovered me? You wouldn’t recognize talent if it bit your nose off!”

“Shut up the both of you!” O’Steele screamed. “I’m not going to let you two get away with this!” Reaching into his desk, he pulled out a sleek silver blaster. “From now on, I’m the one in charge!”

“Now Sean,” Crimway raised his hands. “You are letting your paranoia run away with you. You’re not thinking clearly. Now place that gun away, and we’ll all pretend this never happened.”

“Yeah, O’Steele,” Ayla also lifted her hands. “Don’t do anything you might regret.”

“Oh, I can assure you that I am thinking quite clearly, Vade,” there was a cruel smirk on his lips. “I have spent a great deal of time pondering what I would do if I ever had you under my power--”

“You’ve actually fantasied about kidnaping a planetary leader? You are one sick Karakan puppy.”

“Silence! Or else I may let you discover how sick I truly am.” He leered at her with a vicious grin. “Tell me Farm Girl, is there a salient piece of your anatomy you are particularly fond of?”

“Leave her alone, it’s me you have your issues with,” growled Crimway. “What do you want?”

“A severance package of sorts, and an extremely generous one at that.” O’Steele accessed the terminal set on his desk. “You, Planetary Director are about to transfer a substantial amount of credits to a covert account of mine.” He motioned for Crimway to stand in front of the interface. “However, at this point, I always had difficulty in deciding exactly what figure to demand. After all, as a staunch supporter of the fine arts, I wouldn’t wish to financially hamper the continual fine accomplishments The Bard Globe achieves. Yet, primarily, my future creature comforts must be assured, plus reparations must be paid for the mental anguish, you personally, Crimway, have inflicted upon my tortured artistic soul by stifling my natural creative and insightful energies--”

“You are a complete and utter lunatic--no scratch that,” Ayla shook her head in an angry manner. “You are a World of One Hundred Moons class lunatic! And that’s being charitable!”

“Keep your untalented yap shut!” O’Steele commanded. “You are the only unforeseen variable in this equation,” he idly waved his weapon at her. “Although I pride myself at being extremely adaptable, perhaps it would be prudent to simply eliminate your distractive presence right now.”

“No, my cooperation in this mad scheme depends solely on the continued well-being of Miss Ranzz,” Crimway declared, stepping between Ayla and the blaster. “Is that firmly understood?”

“Whatever expedites the situation,” their captor muttered, motioning Crimway to the desk. “Now do precisely as I instructed, but be warned, any deviations will result in dire consequences.” Under his watchful eye, the Planetary Director accessed the planetary financial records and halted. “Why have you stopped?” O’Steele pointed his gun at Ayla. “Don’t try any tricks, now!”

“You never gave me an actual number of credits to transfer,” Crimway replied.

“That’s right,” O’Steele chuckled to himself. “I’d actually forgotten. Let’s see... how about one million per play of the Immortal Bard? Yes, throw in lost and apocryphal works and that comes to approximately fifty-two, that’s a nice dramatic number... Make it fifty-two million...”

“You must realize you will never get away with any of this insanity,” Ayla pointed out.

“On the contrary, I am supremely confident of my success,” he sneered. “You see, afterwards, Director Crimway will issue me a full pardon for any and all crimes I have just committed.”

“Doesn’t the word ‘coercion’ spring to mind?”

“Not really. As Crimway, noted, on Verbapotens, the word of the Planetary Director is law.”

“Sean’s correct,” Crimway agreed with a nod. “Legally, he would be untouchable if I signed it.”

“Yes, you are a fortunate, indeed, to witness my genius--I have thought of everything.”

“Hardly,” Ayla retorted in a knowing manner. “I know of something you haven’t accounted for.”

Sean O’Steele laughed. “Oh, really? What, may I ask, is that? Care to enlighten me, Farm Girl?”

“Well, that’s a close enough invitation,” Ayla smirked. “This!” A bolt of energy from her raised hands engulfed O’Steele, tossing his form hard against the wall. “Now, that was satisfying.”

“Ah, I suppose that explains how you intend to honor Garth’s memory,” observed Crimway.

After the Verbapotens security force had taken Sean O’Steele away in custody, Ayla revealed to Crimway how she had also been present when her brothers had gained their electrical powers.

“Therefore, I assume you will be attending one of the Legion’s so-called ‘try-outs’ and apply?”

“No, I won’t take a chance on their refusing me outright without giving me a shot.”

“Then how?”

She grinned. “I intend to use parts of my ‘Ganymede’ costume to impersonate Garth.”

Crimway twisted his lips. “I can appreciate the Shakespearean elements of your bold scheme, Ayla, but you must realize you cannot maintain such a charade from the Legion for very long.”

“I know that, but by then I hope to have had ample opportunity to prove myself to them.”

Crimway shook his head. “It seems a rather cruel deception to feign your twin’s resurrection.”

“I’ve already informed my parents of the plan; theirs are the only feelings that matter to me.”

“And what do you intend to do with the... the contents of your brother’s crypt?”

“Legally, my parents and I have received official Earthgov approval of our wish to move Garth elsewhere, we have just failed to inform them or the Legion of an exact date as of yet.”

“Do you have a new place selected?”

“Korbal, the Lightning World where we gained our powers.”

“Well, if you won’t be dissuaded from this dangerous course of action, dear Ayla, both I and my personal ship, are at your disposal. It’s the least I can do, considering that you saved my life.”

“I am not certain I should let you get too deeply involved, Planetary Director Crimway.”

“Nonsense, besides I possess something you do not, which may prove to be invaluable.”

“What is that?”

Vade Crimway grinned. “Diplomatic immunity...”


Dressing Room of Ayla Ranzz; Globe of the Bard Theatre:

“Wow.” Garth shook his shoulders somewhat uncomfortably. “Vade Crimway actually helped you move me to Korbal? I honestly don’t know whether to feel grateful or desecrated.”

Ayla giggled sadly. “So you can understand why my trepidations for stepping on stage.”

“Garth!” Vade Crimway’s voice intruded. “You have one minute before the curtain rises.”

The Legionnaire turned towards the door and reached for his sister. “We’re on our way.”

Ayla nodded and followed. “One last question, Garth--how did you describe my feelings so well?”

“Guilt that you’re letting someone you care for face danger unnecessarily?” Garth shrugged. “Easy, Ayla, that is how I feel every time you leave the clubhouse on a Legion mission...”

Recreation Area, Legion Clubhouse:

“Don’t worry, Fire Lad,” Matter-Eater Lad gingerly clasped the other’s shoulder. “I’m sure Polar Boy can salvage most of the ice cream. And you shouldn’t blame yourself for that sneeze, I was the one who added extra jalapeno Cajun spice to the pepper shrimp.”

“I just wish it hadn’t happened in front of everybody,” lamented Fire Lad.

“You and me both, Buddy,” chimed in Chlorophyll Kid. He and the rest of the Substitute Legion were moving across the floor clearing the sticky residue away as best they could.

“But I still don’t know why we Subs are the only ones cleaning this mess,” piped up Stone Boy.

“Because we all promised Cosmic Boy we’d be responsible and behave tonight,” pointed out Night Girl. “And tiding up after ourselves is being responsible.” She sighed as she came to a sizable pinkish puddle. “Aww--Plutonian Pomegranate Passion Parfait is my favorite flavor.”

“C’mon Pals,” Fire Lad pleaded. “You really ought to at least let me help with that--”

“Don’t you dare!” Polar Boy blurted out, as he continued to re-cool the tables of melted ice cream. “I mean, we have the situation well in hand, Staq. Why don’t you see if the next scene’s started?”

“Heh,” Chuck Taine nudged Colossal Boy’s shoulder. “Those guys always crack me up.” The Legionnaire merely gave his former team mate a cold glare. “Hey, why so glum, Gim?”

Gim turned and grabbed Chuck’s shirt. “I just finished a week sitting Shiva for a cherished family friend who committed suicide shortly after allegedly perpetrating treasonous actions on my own home computer,” he released his hold. “So excuse me, Chuck, if I’m feeling a bit ‘glum!’”

“Hey, hey, whoa there, Big Fella,” Chameleon Boy elongated his neck and arms to entwine around Colossal Boy and pull him bodily few steps back. “Remember, we’re all friends here.”

“You’ll have to excuse our largest Legionnaire here, Chuck,” Invisible Kid suddenly appeared between them as well. “The past few days have been incredibly rough on Gim and his folks.”

“No, it’s okay,” the former Bouncing Boy grimaced. “I’ve just been out of the Legion loop for far too long, I should have known better than to open my big fat mouth. I’m really sorry, Gim.”

“I’m the one who should be apologizing,” admitted Gim, as Cham resumed his normal form. “It’s not you I’m frustrated with.” He motioned toward the holo-projector, where Garth’s Sebastian was examining a large pearl on stage. “Before he left to make out with super starlets, Lightning Lad promised me he would look into the circumstances behind the death of Ambassador Isaacs.” He frowned as Athena Amore’s Olivia appeared. “Obviously, he got sidetracked somehow.”

“I’m sure Garth acted with all due diligence, Gim,” Invisible Kid assured him. “I’ve reviewed the Ambassador’s case file, myself, and could not discern any cause to dispute the official findings.”

“You didn’t know Caleb Isaacs, personally, Kid, I did. None of what happened makes any sense.”

An uncomfortable silence settled over the group. “Say, Chuck,” Invisible Kid spoke up. “One of my old professors at Met U contacted me, and mentioned how well you were doing in his class.”

“Which one?”

“Professor Deygeron Great Bird, Spacial Warp Theory and Applications.”

“You’re actually studying for an Engineering degree, Chuck?” Cham asked with surprise.

“Since I’m no longer bouncing around with you guys in the Legion,” Chuck sighed a bit wistfully. “I decided to put my natural knack for figuring out angles and trajectories to good use...”


“Why is Olivia suddenly carrying a parasol?” Phantom Girl asked. “She wasn’t using one before.”

“Look how heavily she’s leaning on it,” Triplicate Girl added. “She practically using it as a cane.”

“You mean using Lightning Lad as a cane,” observed Ultra Boy. “That’s one strong grasp she’s latched onto Garth, but he doesn’t seem to mind too much--he’s holding her pretty close now.”

“Believe me, he’ll feel it later,” assured Sun Boy. “A grip that tight is gonna leave marks.”

“Cosmic Boy, Element Lad, Mon-El--there’s an emergency situation developing on Venus, a trio of atmospheric converters are inexplicably breaking down. Get going!” Saturn Girl commanded, as she worked the portable Mission Monitor Board on her wrist. “Kid, you’d better go along as well, with Brainiac Five on The Bard’s Globe, your scientific expertise may be needed.”

“But Saturn Girl,” Element Lad replied, as the other named Legionnaires rushed out of the room. “The Venusian government has made it abundantly clear that I am not welcome on their planet.”

“You are not legally barred. Thus your exemplary actions as a Legionnaire coming to their aid may ultimately bring them to rethink their misguided prejudices against transmutation--yes?”

“I see your point,” Element Lad smiled, as he followed his comrades out to the landing field.

“I would be happy to lend a helping hand,” stated Duplicate Boy.

“And all of us Subs are willing to volunteer, too,” averred Polar Boy.

“The kind offers are appreciated friends, but you are all here tonight as our guests,” Saturn Girl pronounced. Both Chlorophyll Kid and Stone Boy opened their mouths to speak, but a warning glare from Night Girl encouraged them to return to their respective mopping efforts. “But should the Legion mission team require additional assistance, all of you will be kept in mind.”

“Yeah, you can all bet on that,” a tittering Ultra Boy jibed, as Phantom Girl swatted at him.

“Now that the fourth act has finished, why don’t we all enjoy a final bite before the final act starts?” Saturn Girl suggested. She, herself, retrieved a large bunch of grapes on a small plate.

“Here you go,” Colossal Boy handed the Legion’s Lallorian guest a double serving of ice cream.

“Thanks,” Duplicate Boy accepted the frozen treat and ate a spoonful. “Uranusian Cherberry Jubilee,” he identified with a grin. “But there’s an intriguing piquant tang I can’t quite discern...”

“If you say so,” Colossal Boy, noted a bit dubiously with a nonchalant shrug. He turned away before a smug, malicious sneer became evident across his face.

“I saw that.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about, Cham.”

“You gave our guest from Lallor a portion of the ice cream Jo personally saved with his freeze breath,” the Durlan shook his head with disappointment “I’ve never considered you petty, Gim.”

“He doesn’t seem to mind the extra Rimborian flavored additive ingredient,” Colossal Boy replied. He looked rather forlornly as Violet clasped Duplicate Boy’s hand in hers and drew him away. “Besides, Cham, my Dad always advised me to take whatever victories in life I could.”

“But is a minor triumph over a foe that has no inkling it has even occurred, truly a victory at all?”

“Sometimes those kind of covert victories ultimately prove to be the most lethal of all.”


“Saturn Girl,” Star Boy held out his omnicom. “I’ve just received a message from an SP contact of mine, Captain Kimball Zendak. He wants to arrange an impromptu meeting with you A.S.A.P.”

“Concerning what matter?”

“He wouldn’t say--only that it is extremely urgent,” Star Boy looked down at the screen. “And that he is already en route to the Legion Clubhouse,” he revealed with a sheepish expression.

“Well, well,” Saturn Girl arched an eyebrow. “Your Science Police acquaintance is certainly assertive, as well as sure of himself, Star Boy,” she noted. “What else do you know about him?”

“I first met then SP Lieutenant Zendak, during the prisoner outbreak on Takron-Galtos about two years ago. As I was somewhat incapacitated, after I collapsed the prisoner’s headquarters, Zendak actually organized the clean up operations afterwards. I found him to be solid and capable.”

“Advise him that I will meet him in the Meeting Room. Escort him there upon his arrival.”

Star Boy nodded and headed for the exit typing on his omnicom. “Right, already on it.”

“Triplicate Girl, Supergirl come with me. The rest of you, enjoy the rest of the performance.”

“What do you suppose this SP Captain wants that would be so important that it couldn’t wait until tomorrow morning?” Triplicate Girl wondered aloud as the trio made for the Meeting Room.

“No idea,” Saturn Girl responded. “But it better be something of paramount importance.”

“Why do you want me in sit in on this meeting?” Supergirl asked.

“Frankly, Kara,” Saturn Girl shrugged. “All that constant aggressive glaring about yourself you were doing was really beginning to make our guests feel uncomfortable in there.”

“So?”

“I’ve decided that your foul mood might be utilized in a more constructive fashion,” the three Legionnaires entered the designated room. “Such as intimidating our imminent visitor, perhaps?”

“I see,” Supergirl nodded her head. “Clever.”

As they sat down, Triplicate Girl set the holo monitor on the center of the table to tap into the visual feed transmitted from the Bard’s Globe. “Hey, we might as well see how everything turns out.” At that point in the final act of ‘Twelfth Night,’ Viola, as Cesario, had just been identified by Olivia as her new husband, much to the astonishment and wrath of Duke Orsino.

“Fine, just turn it off while the actual meeting occurs.” Saturn Girl consulted her Mission Monitor wristlet. “Ladies, I am pleased to announce that Captain Zendak has just entered the clubhouse.”

“Whoopee,” Supergirl noted. She used her super speed to zip back and grab a bowl of ice cream.

“Oh, could I have a bowl Martian Marble Mocha?” Triplicate Girl asked. “Un-ultrafied please.”

“Sure. Do you want anything, Saturn Girl?”

“No, thanks,” the Legion leader was staring intently as Sebastian made his entrance, rapier drawn.

“Am I wrong, or can no one claim that Garth doesn’t cut out to be a quite impressive, dashing figure?” Triplicate Girl challenged with a prurient grin. “Especially when wielding that sword...”

“I’m not certain, but I think you just used a triple negative,” murmured an engrossed Saturn Girl.

“As apropos as that might have been, however, the sentiment wasn’t expressed in a single clause.”

“Uh,” Star Boy idly rubbed the nape of his neck. “Captain, may I introduce you to my fellow Legionnaires, Triplicate Girl, and our current Legion leader, Saturn Girl...” A bowl abruptly appeared in front of the Legionnaire from Carggg. “And least I forget, the legendary Supergirl. Girls, this is Captain Kimball Zendak. When not busy correcting grammar...” No one laughed at his attempt at humor. “He’s the newest member of Science Police Chief Wilson’s personal staff.”

Saturn Girl motioned at Triplicate Girl to cancel the ‘Twelfth Night’ transmission.

“No, that’s all right, let the visual feed continue,” Zendak shrugged. “I don’t really mind.”

“Have a seat, Captain,” Saturn Girl paused as their guest acceded to the request. “Now, what can the Legion of Super-Heroes do for our good friends in the Science Police?”

“It concerns a very sensitive issue which the Chief wants to keep as discreet as possible.”

“Say no more.” Saturn Girl canted her head. “Thom, why don’t you rejoin the festivities?”

Appearing dismayed that he was the only one asked to leave, Star Boy departed with a curt nod.

“I meant that the specifics of this matter are only intended for the eyes of the Legion’s leader.”

“Yes, well, if this sudden conference had been held at Science Police Headquarters, perhaps then you could dictate such details, but as we are here, on the Legion’s home turf, at your own rather desperate instigation, I might add,” Saturn Girl idly waved a her hand in his direction. “Whatever original intent the Science Police may have had in this matter, holds little sway with me.”

“Have it your way then,” the captain shook his head. “But your fellow Legionnaires must understand that the information I am about to reveal does not leave this room.”

“Hey!” Despite her astounding array of abilities, Supergirl had not yet developed the knack of maintaining an assertive, intimidating mien while enjoying a bowl of ice cream. “We are hardly amateurs here, Captain, we know how to keep secrets.” Triplicate Girl nodded in agreement.

“Does the name Tiberius Pasvock hold any significance to any of you?”

“Some kind of scientist, right?” Triplicate Girl pursed her lips. “I remember, he was among the guests of honor at the opening of the Festival of Twins on the Bard’s Globe last night.”

“One of the top names in the field of cybernetics to be exact. Verbapotens records his departure, but the authorities of his world, Brok, confirm that his private craft never entered the planetary system. The professor has been officially declared missing, a probable victim of foul play.”

“Tragic news about Pasvock,” Saturn Girl frowned. “But how is that the Legion’s concern?”

“The Science Police has received credible evidence which clearly indicates your comrade, Lightning Lad is a person of interest to this case, if not the likely perpetrator,” revealed Zendak.

“That is utterly ridiculous,” scoffed Saturn Girl. “What possible motive--” She paused, reflecting on the previous conversation. “Cybernetics... Brok... Pasvock worked for Zaryan didn’t he?”

Zendak nodded. “Which more than amply supplies plausible motive.”

“Wait just a minute!” Triplicate Girl interjected. “Has a body actually been found?”

“Technically, no,” Zendak admitted.

“Then how credible could this ‘evidence’ be?”

Zendak produced a compact holo projector and placed it on the table. “This footage was anonymously received by Brok SP headquarters, it appears to be partial transmission of a emergency log buoy. You are free to judge its merits for yourselves.”

A grainy image began playing, depicting an elderly man piloting in a small cockpit. He turned around as the scalp of a caped red-haired individual filled the lower part of the frame. Suddenly electrical discharges leapt from the intruder's hands turning the target into smoking remains.

“There is a 97% computer confirmation that the depicted victim is Tiberius Pasvock.”

“This meeting is now over,” declared Saturn Girl, rising to her feet. “Should more tangible evidence in this case be discovered, I will be amenable to discuss the matter further at that time.”

“All we are asking is for Lightning Lad to be available for questioning upon his return to Earth,” Zendak stated in a reasonable tone. “A chance to explain his side of the story for himself.”

“Lightning Lad is not returning to Earth for sometime. After his performances on the Bard’s Globe, he is scheduled to immediately take part in a Legion Goodwill Galactic Tour.”

“But you Legionnaires just finished such a tour a few months ago.”

“That was just us girls,” Triplicate Girl explained with a shrug. “It’s the guys’ turn this time.”

“May I remind you all that Legionnaires are not above the law,” Zendak pointed out.

“We never claimed to be,” replied Supergirl.

“Listen,” the Captain pointed out Garth as the cast of the play were apparently taking their final bows. “We of the Science Police are fond of the Legion--Lightning Lad has proven to be one of the finest of your number, but we cannot let the appearance of favoritism stain this investigation.”

“As the leader of the Legion, I do not believe it has,” Saturn Girl stated flatly.

“Fine.” A smirk played on the Captain’s features. “But, just to show there are no hard feelings--” He reached into a pouch and pulled out a golden mass of chains. “Recalling your penchant for pendants, Saturn Girl, Chief Wilson thought it would be a nice gesture to gift each Legionnaire with one of these--from what I understand–they are currently the most sought out pieces of jewelry around.” He singled out and placed a shimmering ‘Garthena’ symbol in her hand.

“Tell the Chief, the thought is appreciated,” growled Saturn Girl through clenched teeth.

“I will--whoa--” Zendak exclaimed, as on the screen, a bowing Athena Amore abruptly dropped lifelessly to the stage. “Now that was certainly dramatic as well as unexpected.”

“She fell down, so what?” Supergirl asked.

“Athena’s not getting up,” Triplicate Girl bit her lip.

“For the sake of your friend, the poor girl had best not become what she apparently appears to be.”

“What are you trying to say?” Saturn Girl demanded. “What does she appear to be?”

Zendak’s expression was grim. “A second victim.”

Act VI “Thus the Whirligig of Time Brings its Revenges...”


Nova Avon Medi-Center:

“Halt! By decree of the Tiresias Brotherhood, you are not allowed past this point, Legionnaire.”

Garth, still wearing his Sebastian costume, ignored the matching arrogant sneers on the pair of sentries, as he pushed his way through them, causing each to grasp one of his shoulders to stop him. “If you hadn’t noticed, this is Verbapotens, not Naltor,” Garth pointed out as he half-heartedly tried to shake himself free. “You two emerald clowns have no authority here.”

“Ah, but the patient is the daughter of Naltor’s High Seer, and thus her security falls under our jurisdiction,” Kenz Nuhor noted smugly. “How foolish of you not to have realized that fact.”

“On the contrary,” Garth disputed with a smirk. “What is truly foolish is the two of you assuming that I require my hands to direct my powers.” He electrified his upper torso, shocking the green-clad duo unconscious. “And that you sanctimonious twerps could have actually stopped me,” he added, stepping over their fallen forms and continuing further down the corridor.

“Garth! Wait! Please, stop!”

Lightning Lad whirled around to discover Dream Girl trailing his steps. “Don’t try to stop me Nura, as you can plainly see, I’ve already neutralized your brotherhood of green goons.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she assured him with a wink. “But can I ask one simple question: What exactly do you believe barging in like this, demanding to see Terri, will actually accomplish?”

That question brought the Legionnaire up short for a moment. “I suppose I’ll find out when I get there,” he declared, with a shrug, before resuming his way forward.

“Yeah, I can hardly wait to see how all that will turn out... again,” she muttered, following behind.

Garth continued on until he discerned a group of familiar figures. Brainiac Five, Planetary Director Crimway, and High Seer Beren Torr were locked in a spirited argument with a bald gray-hued, four armed biped with both set of arms defiantly locked across his chest. Deciding stealth was in order, Garth maintained a distance far enough not to be too noticeable (a difficult task while wearing Shakespearean garb) yet close enough to overhear the contentious conversation.

“Chief Administrator, I must insist that you agree to this simple request,” implored Crimway in a tone which was beginning to get heated. “This Legionnaire has several medical degrees, and is more than qualified to perform this urgently needed procedure on the patient, Miss Amore.”

“I’m not disputing that, Planetary Director. But the medical decisions made within this institution are still under my complete discretion. And I cannot in good conscience grant surgical privileges to this mere stripling. But you have no cause to worry, I shall see to this operation, myself.”

“But I, personally, have had a strong presentiment that unless it is Brainiac Five who operates on my beloved daughter,” Beren lowered his head in a grave manner. “She will not survive.”

“Oh, I have no patience for your Naltorian pseudo-clairvoyant twaddle! I must get prepped--”

“Doctor,” Brainiac Five broke in. “While I agree with you partially on the immediate reliability of Naltorian ‘ hunches’, do not your true objections to my participation lie within the rather turbulent history our two families have shared these past several centuries? I can assure you by my people at least, any cause for conflict was forgotten decades ago.”

“You keep silent, ‘Brainiac Three-Fifths!’ You are as much an aberrant emerald abomination of nature as any of the rest of your cursed Coluan bloodline!”

“My correct designation is Brainiac Five.” The Legionnaire remained unruffled. “Even the current claimant to the Grax dynastic title should be capable of counting to that high a numeral.”

“As your feeble twelfth-level intellect is merely three-fifths of my own twentieth,” Doctor Grax Twenty-Seven sneered. “I deem that particular appellation infinitely more appropriate for you.”

“Heard enough?”

Garth almost jumped to discover Nura Nal had made her way to his side undetected. “Yeah.” He quickly strode over to apparently join the conversation. “Chief Administrator Grax?” He called out, pointedly avoiding the daggers the High Seer was staring his way. “Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Garth Ranzz,” he extended a hand. Automatically, the doctor brought one of his own to meet the gesture. “Perhaps more commonly renowned as Lightning Lad.” He sent a mild charge through the handshake, which instantly overwhelmed the target, who was gently lowered to the floor by Dream Girl, as if Nura had been expecting the sudden action, which Garth realized with chagrin, she had. “Okay, Planetary Director Crimway, why don’t you see if you can connect Brainy the surgeon with the proper paperwork, and lets finally get Terri on the road to recovery.”

“What have you done?” The High Seer demanded. “You’ve just assaulted an innocent being!”

“Assault is such a strong word, sir, I prefer pacified. Besides,” Garth nodded towards Crimway. “Should such a dubious charge ever arise, I trust that a full pardon could be suitably arranged.”

Crimway chuckled as he led Brainiac Five away. “That trust would not be misplaced.”

“Well, now that’s settled,” Garth moved towards the door to Athena Amore’s room. Abruptly, he found his way fully blocked by the regal unmoving figure of the High Seer of Naltor.

“You are not welcome within, Legionnaire.” Beren Torr glared at him in a clear challenge. “Terri’s very life has been endangered by her mere proximity to your lethal presence. If you truly care for her, do not endanger her any further.” Wearily, he slipped through the entry portal.

Hesitating slightly, Garth reached for the door controls, but another hand caught his first.

“Please, Garth don’t,” Dream Girl brought her other hand to encircle his. “Just accept the wishes of an father who is gravely concerned for his only daughter, and leave the premises now.”

“You knew what I was going to do to that officious nitwit, so I assume you already know what my next actions are going to be.” He looked into her face. “Are you making this request of me as an old friend, or as the Chief of Staff to the High Seer of Naltor?”

She smiled a bit wistfully. “Does it really matter? You and I both know there is nothing you can do for Terri here except needlessly antagonize her father and cause a diplomatic incident.”

Garth let out a defeated breath, and gave her hands one last squeeze before turning away. “You’re right in that respect, Nura. But there is one last task I can still accomplish on Terri Torr’s behalf.”

“What’s that?”

“Something else else Athena and I started this weekend, and one way or another--no matter what the personal cost-- I intend to make certain that unfinished business ends tonight.” Garth vowed.


Reception Hall, The Globe of the Bard Theatre:


“Not exactly the most liveliest or festive of events, is it?”

“Now, Perla,” Luc Ranzz gently chided. “Athena Amore has been seriously injured, it is only natural that a certain pall would permeate the atmosphere of this gathering.”

“I realize that,” she wound her arm around her daughter protectively. “But our Ayla here gave an absolutely award winning caliber acting performance of a lifetime, and where is the ardent applause or even a chorus of kudos? Why, it’s as if she never stepped on stage tonight at all.”

“Mother, it’s all right.” Ayla assured her. “This night is not about me. It’s about all the good that will come from the funds raised for the orphans--and everyone’s hopes for Athena’s health.”

“How serious can it be, dear? After all, she merely fell down on her face.”

Ayla sighed with frustration, but resisted snapping at her mother. “It must be more than that,” she stated carefully, honoring the High Seer’s request that the true extent of Athena Amore’s critical condition remained secret. “Or Garth would be here too, wouldn’t he?”

“He certainly seems extremely devoted to her. Strange, up to last week, both your Mother and I would have sworn he was hopelessly infatuated with that telepathic girl from your Legion--”

“Saturn Girl.”

“Yes, that one,” Luc Ranzz nodded. “We’ve always considered her a bit too controlled, staid, and well downright cold--hardly a match for someone with Garth’s unabashed adventuresome side.”

“On that my dear friends, I’m afraid we must disagree.” R.J. Brande pronounced, joining them. “Where is Garth? We need to present the donations soon--Leland over there is about to bolt.”

Ayla shrugged. “I don’t really know, sir. I assume he’s still with Athena.”

Brande frowned. “Well, I suppose that you will have to accept for the both of you. Come along my dear.” He led her to the small podium placed at the front of the room. Brande nodded at Coriolanus Burton, already standing near the dais, who answered in like manner.

“Gentle peoples and sentients of all description, you all recognize me as Coriolanus Burton. Unfortunately, Verbapotens Planetary Director Vade Crimway has been unavoidably detained by more pressing matters, it is my great pleasure to welcome you all to the closing of The Bard’s Globe’s ‘Shakespearean Festival of Twins,’ and to thank each and everyone of present for making this stupendous event a rousing success!” Burton paused to let the applause dwindle down. “On a more somber note, Director Crimway wanted to assure everyone that the fallen member of our troupe, Miss Athena Amore is in stable condition, and that her doctors are optimistic of her ultimately making a full recovery. He trusts that everyone joins him in sending Athena their best wishes for swiftly regaining her health and making a triumphant return to the stage.” Once again he waited until the audience stopped clapping before continuing. “All right. It’s about time we finally get down to the main reason we have all gathered here tonight--time to redistribute the wealth.” There was a smattering of polite laughter. “Would you all please welcome one of the special guest stars who made our ‘Festival of Twins’ an unforgettable experience, the lovely Light Lass of the Legion of Super-Heroes.” Amid a thunderous hail of applause, Ayla stepped up to the podium and smiled shyly. Burton produced an envelope from his jacket. “This credit voucher, from The Globe of the Bard Theatre Troupe, represents our donation to the Winathian Orphans Fund,” the actor placed it in Ayla’s hands. “And is for the total sum of seven millions credits!”

Ayla gasped as she accepted the charitable gift. Before she could reply, R.J. Brande stepped up.

“Now I’m an old man, who really never had much of a family outside you and your fellow Legionnaires. Therefore, it was a profound, almost parental pleasure, to watch you and your twin brother fulfill your thespian aspirations. And as I always put my money where my mouth is, Brande Industries is happily matching that amount with seven million credits more!”

Ayla caught her old friend in a long embrace and a radiant smile which abruptly faded when she discerned the features of the final presenter--Leland MacCauley III.

“I, of course, am a much younger man, who has taken time to raise a wonderful family. I can only imagine how desperate the plight of being an orphan would be--but no child deserves that fate. Thus, MacCauley Enterprises is proud to pledge ten million to the Winathian Orphans Fund.”

Maintaining a feigned smile. Ayla only offered a handshake when MacCauley moved in for a hug. Absently wiping her hand under the podium, she turned to face the crowd. “On behalf of the Winathian Orphans Fund, I thank you kind gentlemen for your generosity. Wow! Twenty four million credits! That’s quite a haul--still that doesn’t get the rest of you folks out there off the hook. I expect each and every one of you to make you own contribution as well--please give what you can, it’s for a more than worthy cause.” The Legionnaire felt tears coming to her eyes. “What more can I say? This has been the greatest weekend of my life.” Ayla spotted Blademaster Scwan, Bizroy, Wight, Waftik, and the Prendo twins standing together as a group. “I need to thank the entire complement of the Globe of the Bard Theatre Troupe for being so good to a scared ingenue clearly out of her depth. But I especially want to acknowledge Vade Crimway, a wonderful mentor and director, for making all of this possible. Athena Amore for her inspiration, talent, and bravery which still fill me with awe. And finally, my twin brother, Lightning Lad, for always being there for me. I have no doubt, wherever he happens to be at this very moment, Garth shares the same proud sense of accomplishment and utter elation I am feeling right now...”


Dressing Room of Garth Ranzz, The Globe of the Bard Theatre:


With a distracted frown, Lightning Lad finished draping his cape over his shoulders. His Sebastian costume lay strewn about the area, but at that particular moment, finally tracking down the Confider was a higher priority that returning the garment to the Wardrobe Department. He was just about to leave, when he noticed the dagger of the Blademaster laying on the dressing table where he had previously placed it while changing back into his uniform. Feeling a strong personal obligation to make certain the prized weapon was returned back to its proper owner, Garth tucked it securely under his flight belt. Making his way through the vast backstage area, he headed for the production control room. Finding the portal locked, he prepared to blast it open.

“Lightning Lad! There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“R.K.,” Garth recognized with surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“Brainiac Five sent me. You see, Chief Administrator Doctor Grax Twenty-Seven of the Nova Avon Medi-Center became unexpectedly incapacitated and Director Crimway convened an emergency session of the board of governors, which includes both my parents, when they’re actually on world that is; normally their previously appointed proxies would stand in--”

“Skip ahead to the part where you encountered Brainy.”

The teen pushed his glasses higher on his nose. “Okay, anyway, while I was in the lobby waiting for the meeting to end, he came up and asked me to give you this, personally.” Lightning Lad took the compact sensor device the boy handed him. “He set it to detect your unique bio-electrical signature, and I followed it here. Hey, were you trying to get into the Production-Control Room?”

“Vade promised me a chance to review my performances, obviously with all the confusion from earlier in the evening, it must have slipped his mind and he didn’t leave me the proper key codes.”

“Oh,” R.K. nodded in understanding, instantly accepting the plausibility of the Legionnaire’s explanation. “Lucky for you I happen to know all the security sequences, then.” His fingers swiftly played upon the keyboard and after a red indicator light turned green, the door slid aside.

“Thanks,” Garth stepped inside with the youth at his heels. His eyes widened in surprise at the imposing number of complex devices which filled the room “You probably know all about how this place operates. Could you put up ‘A Comedy of Errors’ on one of these monitors for me?”

“Sure, just give me a few minutes,” R.K. answered with glee, eager to play with a vast array of high-tech toys which had previously been beyond his reach. “Sit here at the primary controls.”

As R.K. happily buzzed about acceding to Lightning Lad’s request, the Legionnaire sat down and accessed the information on the portable scanner his Coluan team mate had sent him. As Garth suspected, the lazer rifle had been used to shoot Athena, but the only detectable physical traces were of his sister and himself. The most troubling aspect among all of the of the data Brainiac Five had collated were the conclusions derived from his forensic virtual re-enactment of the incident. According to Brainy’s irrefutable calculations, had Athena not interfered, the trajectory of the beam indicated that Garth would have been struck in the upper left thigh. A debilitating injury, for certain, but one which with modern medical treatment, would only require a little more than a week to fully recover from. Either the would-be-assassin was incompetent, or the Confider, for some sinister unfathomable reason, wished to have Lightning Lad maimed, but not dead...

“Ready. The play will be coming up on the main screen in a moment, Legionnaire.”

Garth closed the scanner. “Thanks, R.K.” In companionable silence, they began watching the recording of the previous night’s performance. Director Crimway strode across the stage and in his familiar dulcet tones welcomed the audience. The feed cut to show the various luminaries as each individual’s presence was acknowledged. But it was the one the Legionnaire failed to see which seized Lightning Lad’s attention. “Stop! Roll that bit back.” The shadowy image of a man awkwardly taking a swift bow without being illuminated in the trailing spotlight filled the screen.

“Huh? Why? What’s so important about him? Who is that guy anyway?” R.K. asked.

Garth’s expression was a grim, yet imbued with rueful satisfaction. “Professor Tiberius Pasvock.”


Reception Hall, The Globe of the Bard Theatre:


“You look like you’ve been dragged through eleven of the seventeen Hells, old friend.”

Vade Crimway chuckled at R.J. Brande’s greeting. “If that’s the case, I believe I can consider myself well ahead of the game.” He reached for an unclaimed beverage-filled goblet and downed its contents in a single gulp. “You will be relieved to learn that your young Coluan surgical genius has declared Athena’s procedure a complete success and anticipates a quick recovery.”

“That is most excellent news! I trust the High Seer has now returned to a semblance of his former rational self.” R.J. smirked. “Earlier, he and I nearly came to blows arguing over Garth.”

“Just where is Lightning Lad? I should be telling him the good news.”

“We just assumed he was with you at Athena’s side.”

“No, but not for a lack off trying,” Crimway shook his head in a bemused fashion. “Suffice it to say, after personally adding to the patient population at the Medi-Center, Garth ultimately decided to acquiesce to the High Seer Beren Torr’s decree that he maintain his distance from Athena.”

“That doesn’t sound like the determined lad I know.”

“Miss Nal said Garth mentioned something about having unfinished business to deal with. I assumed such matters had to involve the theatre in some fashion or another....”

Brande quickly looked to and fro before speaking in a lower voice. “You can level with me, tell the absolute truth--all this ‘Garthena’ falderal--you had them stage a false romantic entanglement to generate publicity for the festival, didn’t you?” His eyebrows waggled in a knowing way.

“I most certainly did not, R.J.,” insisted Crimway. “While I suspected the pair would have instant chemistry on stage, Athena practically begged for the roles when she heard about the twins theme. I assure you any amorous attachment the two developed, was forged from their own true feelings.”

Brande appeared crestfallen. “I’m really sorry to hear that, Vade.” The older man shook his head forlornly. “That would mean that Garth Ranzz is not the person I always thought he was.”

“Vade! There you are.” Light Lass quickly gave him a hug. “Is there any new word on Athena?”

“Thanks to your fellow Legionnaire’s skill with a lazer scalpel, she will make a full recovery.”

“Thank the Lord,” Ayla grinned. “That’s a huge load off my mind.” She displayed the credit slips which were earlier presented to her. “Look at this--twenty-four million credits for the orphans--you, Vade, are the real hero here.” She looked about. “Where’s Garth? He should see this too.”

“A good question, Ayla.” Crimway shrugged. “Unfortunately, no one seems to know the answer.”


Prop Weapon Storage & Training Room, The Globe of The Bard Theatre:


“Lukos, what are you doing here? Don’t you know that there’s a huge party going on downstairs?”

“I could ask the same question of you, Legionnaire,” the Blademaster responded, as he put the helmet he had worn as Sir Augencheek on the mannikin which now wore the rest of the armor. “You were sorely missed during the charity presentations--your poor sister had to endure the attentions of both Coriolanus Burton and Leland MacCauley III virtually simultaneously.”

“She didn’t float them up to the ceiling did she?” Garth winced, as he surreptitiously pulled out and activated the scanner, sweeping the room for anomalies. “I would not put that past her.”

“No, she managed to control herself.” Scwan continued putting away various props, unaware of Garth’s covert actions. “But I couldn’t stand being in the same room as that pretentious twit Burton any longer. Strewth! I had forgotten that Coriolanus Burton when sober, is nearly as irritating as when he’s inebriated. So, I came here to find some peace in my private sanctum.” He turned to face Lightning Lad. “Still, the fact the you are here must mean that Athena is better.”

“I--” Garth received puzzling readings from the scanner. “--have full faith in Brainy’s medical skills, if anyone can pull her through, it’s him.” He cautiously approached the suits of armor. “Say, you haven’t cleaned or polished any of the props from the play yet, have you?”

“No,” Scwan chuckled. “I’ve planned that chore for early tomorrow--unless you’re volunteering?”

“No thanks,” Garth ran the scan again and got the same inexplicable results. A brief smile played across Lightning Lad’s face as he came to the realization that, inadvertently, he had just stumbled across a vital clue which revealed the identity of his nemesis, the Confider. Quickly slipping the scanner away, the Legionnaire brought out the Blademaster’s knife. “Anyway, I wanted to be sure you got this back,” he handed over the weapon. “I really appreciate you lending it to me, Lukos.”

Scwan gave the blade a quick flip in the air before placing it away in its sheath. “The pleasure was all mine, my Legionnaire friend.” The pair shook hands. “I suppose, being that you are one of the special guests of honor, you’re going back to the reception to mingle now.”

“Actually,” Lightning Lad leaned forward and spoke in a low voice. “I was intending to drop by the backstage area, ‘returning to the scene of the crime’ as it were, to investigate the attack on Athena.” He shrugged in a casual manner. “Would you be interested in aiding my efforts?”

“An opportunity to track down the craven creature that nearly murdered our dear friend?” Scwan grinned, and removed his work gloves. “To that proposition, the Blademaster only has one reply,” he located and slung a bandolier filled with bladed weaponry over his shoulder. “Hell, yeah!”


Legion Cruiser Four, Earth Orbit:

“How much longer?” whined Ultra Boy.

“You heard Saturn Girl, Jo,” reminded Sun Boy tiredly from the pilot controls. “For the tenth time, we can’t leave the planetary system until Mon-El comes aboard from Venus.”

“But Cos reported they captured the Fearian terrorists, and were heading back over an hour ago.”

“I still can’t believe they actually battled real-live Fearians,” Colossal Boy shook his head at the images from the other team’s mission log. “They’ve been considered extinct for centuries.”

“Three heads,” observed Matter-Eater Lad from over Gim’s shoulder. “I bet I could still take one in a hot dog eating contest--including the buns!”

Any contradiction to the Legionnaire from Bismoll’s boast was left unsaid as the ship’s computer abruptly announced that a super swift projectile was on a collision course with their vessel.

“Don’t worry, our sensors now confirm it’s Mon-El,” Sun Boy reassured them. “But the readings show he came from Earth not Venus.” He toggled the control for the outer airlock to cycle open.

“Sorry, I’m late guys, but I had to stop off at the lab and grab an extra supply of Brainy’s anti-lead serum,” explained Mon-El as he entered the main cockpit. He tapped his belt buckle securely.

“It’s okay, Mon, I understand,” Jo Nah smirked, “but the others were getting mighty impatient.”

“All right!” Matter-Eater Lad clapped and rubbed his hands together. “Is everyone prepared to spread the renown and guiding principles of the Legion of Super-Heroes? Let’s get this Galactic Goodwill Tour started!” He winced slightly. “Just where is our first port of call anyway?”

“Amazonia,” Sun Boy grinned. “I already have the course plotted in the nav-computer.”

“Belay that,” Mon-El shook his head. “Saturn Girl has added a brief stopover to our itinerary before the official tour begins--Verbapotens--she’s ordered us to take Garth onboard there.”

“That’s so not right!” Ultra Boy protested. “Clearly Lightning Lad has already had more than his fair share of rest and relaxation--just now on The Bard’s Globe--it’s our turn now!”

“Don’t be such a whiner, Jo,” admonished Sun Boy, as he entered the new course. “You are just being jealous. New destination set. Activating hyperdrive--ETA to Verbapotens, fifteen hours.”

“You don’t seem upset about all this,” Ultra Boy noted, as he plopped down next to Colossal Boy.

“Actually,” Gim Allon scowled, “Garth and I definitely have some unresolved issues to discuss...”


Catwalks Above the Main Stage, The Globe of the Bard Theatre:


“So, this spot is where Brainiac Five calculates the rifle was fired?” The Blademaster sighted an imaginary weapon after Lightning Lad nodded. “About twelve meters, I’d estimate. Any halfway decent sniper should have been able to make this close a killshot without any difficulty.”

“Brainy maintains that it wasn’t an assassination attempt at all, he concludes that the shot was meant to hit me in my upper left thigh--Athena just got in the way.”

“Now that is strange, I must admit,” Scwan idly rubbed his temple.

Lightning Lad looked around the darkened area. “Could you point out where exactly the main spotlight is? You know, the one used to point out any dignitaries in the crowd?”

“Sure, it’s situated on one of the higher tiers over the audience. This way.” The pair scaled a few ladders to access the proper catwalk. “Here it is, but what does it have to do with the assault?”

“Perhaps nothing,” the Legionnaire pulled out the scanner. “Or then again, perhaps everything...” Just as Garth suspected, the readings indicated a great deal of complex circuitry within the device, far too much for the simple task of bringing forth concentrated illumination. “This primary casing containing all these filaments, we’ve got to figure out how to remove it and show it to Brainy--”

“That would be an exceedingly unfortunate idea.”

The vaguely familiar voice, was a bit higher than Garth expected. “Confider! Show yourself!”