(Note: This takes place in the Daze Universe, which draws most of its comic book references from the Pre-Crisis Universe.)

"Jan?"

It was a concept that brought recognition and pain. Stiffly, the man tried to turn his head away, in an attempt to stop the throbbing.

"Jan, please, wake up."

Memory came back to him slowly. He remembered being in the barren ruins of his homeworld, and having one of those stupid little accidents that always seemed to happen to him there. The ghosts there were persuasive. He had gotten caught up in a thought (one that escaped him entirely now) or a dream, and twisted his ankle on some loose debris and fallen headlong into a pair of tsurins, symbolizing a mother and a child who had died as a laser drilled through both of them on the day everyone but Jan died.

"Jan please, you've got to get up." The voice was persistent and soft, yet edged with the harshness of concern. Jan shied away from the sound and moaned slightly. To be back in the darkness again... Then he began to realize that his head was not cradled by dirt, but by a pair of legs. The insistent shaking he felt was not his survival instinct, but a hand. "Lords and Mists, Jan, wake up." It was then he recognized the voice. He opened his eyes and looked into the eyes of his sister who had been dead for fifteen years.

"Isset?" he asked, desperately hoping for the acknowledgment and needing to hear he was wrong.

"Yes, it's me," she nodded. "Can you get up?"

"I hurt my head..."

"Jan, please, get up before they notice us."

"I-I suppose I can..." he answered groggily while looking into her eyes. Those eyes were lined by more than just concern for him. They had been lined by the years. Her hair, once the vibrant color of dying oak leaves, had dimmed and taken on a tarnished yellow look.

Two males, obviously offworlders by the way their round, fleshy faces were sweating and the tiny steps they took to compensate for the lighter gravity, came up to them. "What's going on here?" one demanded.

"Masters, my brother fell. He hurt his head."

Masters? For a moment, he lost the conversation. Rather, he looked around and saw that the ones in the gray suits had neurowhips and at least 75 Tromians creating huge blocks of various materials: Uranium, vuurium, platinum, rejuvium... the truly precious and dangerous elements in the universe. Masters... Somehow, the Tromians were alive and they were slaves.

That's it, I've finally gone around the bend, Jan thought, panic-stricken. I saw these people killed with my own eyes. I saw my sister turn herself into a radioactive explosive to keep me from being captured. "Nye..." he whispered out loud, "you died. Everyone here died!"

"Jan, what are you talking about?"

"You," one of the masters pointed at him. "Go home."

"You can't let him walk alone in his condition! He can barely stand and he's delirious!" Isset protested.

"Didn't you learn anything when you lost your hand?" a slaver snarled at her and raised her whip.

Jan tensed. His powers weren't recovered and his balance was no better. If he tried anything, he knew he'd make a mockery of everything he had been taught at the Legion Academy.

"What's going on around here?" a new voice interrupted.

Jan stared at the new woman in the slavers' gray. She had the same coarse black hair, piercing black eyes, and aquiline nose that the man he hated most in the universe had.

"Ms. Roxxas," one of the slavers said respectfully. "This Trommy is acting up on account of her brother bumping his head."

"And you were going to hit her? You idiot! She's from the Rah clan. She's too powerful of a transmuter to damage!" She looked at Jan, slowly, her eyes resting on his slender hips. "You're the hurt one, right? Do you need help getting back to your home?"

Jan suppressed a shudder of revulsion. "I would appreciate help getting home," he said carefully as he realized he had no idea if home was where he remembered it being, or if this was really Trom. Many of the familiar landmarks weren't there. Where the church/council square used to be, there was a large spaceship--a spaceship Jan would have sworn he destroyed almost fifteen years ago.

"Very well, your sister will take you home. You--" Roxxas' daughter ordered, pointing to Isset, "--will come back immediately."

"Yes, ma'am," Isset said humbly to the younger woman. Carefully, Isset guided him back to the house. It was where Jan remembered. Inside, Resh, Isset's lover, was neatening the house and cooking some food. He too had aged. There were streaks of gray in the rich chestnut hair and a haunted expression in his yellow eyes.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Jan fell and hit his head. We need to get him a healer."

Jan thought to himself, I haven't hit my head so hard that I can't miss the fact you think I'm crazy, Isset. Maybe I am. This world couldn't have happened, yet here I am.

"You stay with him, Resh. I'll get a healer," Isset proposed. "It'll be good to do something else besides transmutation."

Resh led Jan to what was obviously his bed. Jan studied the room and tried to get a sense of which things were his. Obviously, he shared the room with somebody else and judging from what little he saw of the family arrangement, it was his younger brother, Nym, who would now be how old?--twenty-one?

"This isn't possible," Jan breathed.

"What isn't possible?" Resh inquired softly.

"You shouldn't be here," Jan started to explain without thinking. "I mean, I was the only survivor. All of you were killed when the pirates attacked!"

Resh looked at Jan as if he was insane. "Only survivor in a population of just under four million? And why would the pirates kill all of us if they wanted our cooperation?"

Jan thought about that for a moment. "I know it sounds crazy..."

"You're right; it sounds crazy. Now, bond-brother, you've taken a bad blow to the head. I want you to lay down here. I'll be waking you up every half hour or so to see how you're doing."

Too bewildered and hurt to consider anything else, Jan obeyed. Resh came in a little while later and cleaned Jan's wound. "Well, it doesn't look like much from here. Head wounds always bleed badly, but--"

"I know, Resh, I sound insane."

"Well, at least you're sane enough to know you sound insane."

Jan decided to keep quiet, rest and learn.

The healer, very old and very wise, entered the house. With a gentle smile, she studied her patient. "So you hit your head? Let me see it."

He nodded his head and she probed the injury, with touch, sight and power. "It doesn't seem to be too bad a concussion. Of course, you should not use your powers for a few days, but it seems you will be all right. Now, what's this about delusions?"

Jan groaned inwardly. Why did he say anything out loud? With all his training, he should have known better. However, did that training ever happen? What if this was reality and what he acutely remembered was a delusion? "I-I-I-I, um--" he stammered.

"Don't worry about it. If the delusions persist, the runners will summon me, and then I will see what to do to help you. At this point, it could just be a delirium dream."

"I hope so," he answered guardedly.

"I will tell the masters that you will not be able to work for the next four days. Use your rest well."

Just then a baby started crying. Jan was startled. A baby? Very carefully, he listened to Resh walk over to a bassinet and pick up the child. He didn't understand much of the baby talk, but he did catch a few phrases. "Easy, grandson, Mommy will be back soon." Mommy? Jan's perceptions reeled once more. The only one who could be "Mommy" was Chya, Jan's two-year-old niece who was crushed under a falling building. Chya, Resh, Isset and Nym, apparently, were all alive. Did that mean his parents were here too? I really have lost my mind. But I remember that day and every day after that as an orphan! I remember the months of running and my years as a Legionnaire so clearly! Yet, Resh is real... as real as this room is--and Isset too! I saw them, I touched them, I sensed them! The last thought made Jan pause. He prized his ability to sense the chemical composition of the things around him like most humanoids prized their sight. As far as he knew, their was no way to deceive that sense. Confuse the perceptions of the mind interpreting the data, yes, but not the portion of the brain that perceived the information. He had none of the warning signs from that senses, no splitting headache or dizzy nausea that could be directly attributed to anything but the concussion. Of course, the concussion could be masking those signs. Jan sighed. Either this was happening or it wasn't. If it wasn't happening, he'd need to wake up soon and see to his own medical attention--soon. If it was... it was either a villain's mindgame, an alternate dimension, or it was the only reality he should know: That of a slave for over half his life and he couldn't remember any of it!

Uncertain of what was true, he looked at the clothes he was wearing. This was not the uniform that he wore while wandering around Trom. They were good sturdy work clothes, and his Legion flight ring was not on his right hand. He sighed softly. I don't feel that much different. He began to strip off his baggy clothing. When he removed his gloves, he studied his hands. On his fingers there were a set of jagged scars he received while trying to repair a panel on the aquatic world of Vuruna. He looked at them and remembered his first Legion mission. It was before Brainiac Five determined Jan's species and therefore did not know how to treat the injury. Even after he was discovered to be Tromian, he had chosen to keep these scars--another reminder of what was important as a Legionnaire. The fifteen years I remember really did happen, he realized. I'm either stuck in some madman's game or some sort of alternative Trom--a parallel universe. But I thought they were all wiped out in the Crisis! He continued to try to figure out where he was until sleep overtook him. It was a restful sleep, although Resh faithfully woke him every half-hour. Finally Resh woke him for a fifth time. "The others will be coming home soon. You want to wake up and greet them properly?"

Groggily, Jan agreed. Then it hit him: He just agreed to meet these strangers that were supposed to be his family. "Please, Gods, no strangers!" he begged as he pulled himself together and went to see them in the common room.

A youth, approximately twenty-years-old with brown hair and an indolent look on his face came in to the room and plopped himself into a conform chair, showing none of the signs of toil that Jan expected from a member of the slave race. "Hello," Jan greeted, nodding at the newcomer. "Resh, what's for dinner?"

"How's the head, Jan?" Nym asked. So there was a communication network between the slaves that the slavers didn't know about. That could be useful.

"My head's fine," Jan answered coolly.

"Your personality isn't," Nym observed cattily. Behind him was a seventeen-year-old girl who was as hard as almost a lifetime could make a girl. There was no softness in Chya's eyes. Jan looked at her and remembered the two-year-old he sang to. Ah, Chya, you were meant to grow in a world with soft grasses and a gentle breeze to ease the sting of heat. What happened? There was no gentleness in her at all except the glance she gave the baby she picked up and the breast she bared to still the infant's soft cries.

Isset came in next, tired from the work she did to cover for her injured brother. She clearly had the beginning of a transmuter's headache and would need to lie down soon. What about Mother and Father? Jan wondered. Am I going to meet my parents? He considered the irony of meeting beings who raised him and shook his aching head. Part of his father's contributions to Jan's personality was the ability to see the humor in the universe. Arn Rah could preach the history of Trom and make it a side-splitting tale of the sentients' follies or take a moopsball and use it to explain the secrets of the universe. He was the romantic; Valla Ar was the pragmatist and the leader. She was a woman who could see what to do even when tempers had failed. What compromises did they make to survive? Would they even be recognizable?

His father came in quietly, trying very much to look like a nonentity. Jan wondered what destroyed the vibrant laughter when he surrendered into this state. He couldn't picture his father not knowing how to laugh. Even his silver hair was not dramatic. Finally his mother entered. Immediately Jan could see she had become far more than just the Speaker for the family. She had assumed the mantle of matriarch, and in her eyes there was anger. She bore herself haughtily.

He met his mother's stare. He was the Legionnaire, probing an unknown person. Through his training, he might discover a clue to why she had a presence the others had not. She met the stare and quickly turned away. That was not the glance of a son, and she began to wonder what it was about Jan that was different. It was not simply the concussion. However, The family had so little time together that now was not the time to bring dissension to the table. Gods knew, perhaps what she was sensing was the concussion.

Resh served a gruel of some nutritionally balanced, slightly sweet muck that Jan discovered was edible until he learned it was all any Tromian had been eating for eight years, thanks to the engineering of some bio-scientist the pirates had. Jan could only wonder how the taste of slavery could be so sweet. He listened to the idle chatter of people tired from a long day at work and would never see any return from their investment and observed their faces. Even though they were exhausted, they were some of the most beautiful faces Jan had ever seen. He tried listening to the conversation, and guessing what fifteen years of slavery had done to the family. Parts of the discussion he did not understand at all; other parts he could understand quickly. He tried imagining that this was something like a teenaged Kal trying to visit Kara during her era. Would he have understood what was going on?

Chya gave Jan her son and said, "Watch him for a minute, will you?"

Jan looked down into the face of his grandnephew. The infant smiled and cooed a bit. After all, he knew this face. He reached out with the perhaps the first inkling of his sense even as he grasped the scarred fingers. Jan knew then that child would be a mighty transmuter; and a skilled one as well if allowed proper training. But who would train him? Jan didn't know enough of his own skills to train anybody. Who could train him in a society of slaves where quantity was more important than complexity? Fifteen years... would I have had a child if I had been here? Would I have had a lover, a permanent one? Fifteen years, and they are alive. But they're slaves...

The emotions took him and he began sobbing. "I'm sorry," he apologized, gasping. "It must be the concussion. I think I'd better rest a bit. I-I know this may sound like a stupid question, but don't I have a vaslet? I'd dearly love to play it right now."

The others glanced at each other. Shock, anger, worry crossed their faces. Isset rose and began to guide Jan back to his room. His mother hissed, "You know there have been no vaslets for fifteen years."

"They took away our music?" Jan asked weakly.

"SSh," Isset warned. "Mother's becoming angry with you."

Jan quieted and allowed his sister to help him back into his room. After she tucked him in and fussed over him for a few moments, he convinced her he would indeed be all right and settled down. He had much to think about before this night was over. What had happened; How in the Names of the Gods could a race of transmuters be held as slaves? What happened to the United Planets and the Legion of Super-Heroes? They were quick to answer to the murder of Trom in his own universe--where were they when they were needed to free Trom in this reality? Was there a Legion? What would it take to get these people to fight for their freedom? They were tired and sullen; they were angry. Could their anger be roused enough to cause action? And how could he, a stranger who knew nothing of their new customs be able to do it? How could he bring them to action? How could he make them fight for their own freedom? These thoughts led Jan into a troubled sleep and persisted on painting his dreams. How would he be able to free them? What if he couldn't? Would he then be condemned to slavery the rest of his days? No, shouted a voice of anger and pride. There's no way they can keep me as a slave. My people died for freedom! I will not forsake them! I will not betray their memory!

Jan woke up when the others did. He could not simply ask his questions, after all he was expected to know them. Nym went off to wherever and Isset, Father and Chya went to the fields to work. His mother and Resh sat talking for a few minutes. Jan decided to begin his investigation. He settled into a comfortable meditation pose and looked at his room before deciding to look only at a wood chair before him while he listened to the voices that were muffled by the shut door. The air smelled and tasted dusty as it blew into his open window. Jan felt its warmth; the wind was always warm on Trom, thanks to the inherent radioactivity in the environment. He sensed the hydrogen-oxygen-nitrogen atoms move as a wave throughout the room and felt them enter his lungs with each breath and sense their transformation into the carbon dioxide he exhaled. When he finally perceived how much his very body interacted with even the tiniest of the Small Ones, or atoms, he closed his eyes and began to ignore his other senses one by one until he only experienced through The Sense.

After several intense hours, his concentration was shattered and he cried out. Resh and his mother hurried into his room. "Jan, what is it? What happened? Were you nightmaring?"

"How... could you," he asked, stunned. "How could you allow them to coerce us into turning our planet into a giant bomb? What in the Names of All the Gods made you do that?!"

"You were using your powers?" his mother snapped. "How dare you? Don't you think they'd know?"

"How would they know?" Jan challenged quietly.

"They have devices, Jan. They watch our activities," Resh answered. "The same kinds of devices they used to blocked off my perceptions and those of the other Watchers when they attacked."

"So they have psionic probes. Nobody's thought to disable them?"

"We can't disable them! They've got other kinds of electronic spies around here and--"

"Tromian spies to back them up, Mother?" Jan asked wearily.

"I don't like that tone in your voice."

"Valla, it's probably the concussion," Resh reminded her, stepping between mother and son. "He should get more rest." As Valla angrily turned and walked out of the sparse room, Resh turned to his deranged in-law. "Jan, please, don't push her right now."

"The spaceship's the trigger, isn't it? It takes off and the whole planet blows."

"If you want to put it that way," Resh answered, unfamiliar with the slang.

"Those bastards. What did they do to get us to do this to ourselves and our home?"

"They had hostages, Jan. They threatened to kill children and then decimate the rest of us. We couldn't let that happen. Life... even life enslaved is better than no life at all."

Jan considered that. His people made the opposite choice: Freedom was more important than living. In his own universe, he was alone because of that decision. Was their answer any better or worse? The only advantage that this Trom's answer had was the fact it wasn't permanent. They could be redeemed from their choice. However he was the only one who wasn't broken to the pirates' will. Maybe this is why I'm here, he thought. To free them. To help these people as I failed their counterparts years ago. However he needed to find out more. How were these people held from rebellion? The psionic detector theory held some truth, but there were other ways to gather information than using The Sense. Were communications only allowed between the captors and the captives? Perhaps that was it. Isset said she had to go and get a healer, not just call one. So communications were limited; this must have been part of the reason music was banned, for the pirates feared there would be some way for the Tromians to communicate through music. Terrestrial history proved that music could communicate a message. The spirituals were a code between Americans of African descent before they were freed in North America. Jan knew he needed to do a little more exploring. He needed to find out the layout of the pirate ship and ways to shut off the psionic blockers. He'd have to convince people to help him and find ways to communicate that the pirates would never suspect. With an effort, he stopped planning and willed himself to rest. He would need it for the prowling he was going to do later that night.

That evening, he dutifully greeted the family, ate some more gruel (Gods, a being could get sick of that stuff in a week, let alone a decade!) and retired to his room, claiming fatigue. As soon as he was sure the others were not paying attention to him, he opened up his window and slipped outside.

He wished he could find a dark cap to put over his blond hair, but Tromians never used hats. Heat and most other forms of radiation were annoyances, not dangers. He'd have to be careful that no light reflected in his hair and that no metal watchdog within twenty yards would have clear sight of him. Maneuvering and exploring after a curfew was tricky work.

Jan remembered that all the roads on Trom, even the elevated ones, lead to the Commons, where church, government and trade were all conducted--the lowest and most ancient levels of the city. The roads still led to the center of the city, but now the city's center was a spaceship Jan distinctly remembered destroying in what he thought would be the last act of his life the first time he brought Roxxas to justice. Its black bulbous shape towered over the fine spires of the city like some hideous cancer, blocking the ways to the Trade Center/Government Commons and partially destroying the Church. The rest of the church had been razed. The delicately made platinum and jeweled stained glass windows were obliterated. All the was left were the steel foundations. The slavers had made it clear. They were the center of the Tromian existence now and they would destroy the planet and most of its people if they got it into their minds to leave.

Twice, Jan had to duck out of the view of the flying spy cameras. Since psionic detectors were cheaper than psionic binders, the pirates had mostly detectors. Jan was very careful not to use his powers, but the training that was forced into him by Chameleon Boy and Karate Kid, along with the endless series of observation classes at the Legion Academy, made up for the voluntary blindness.

As he neared the ship, he heard the harsh laughter of the pirates and the distinct accent of a Terran who had been raised in the British Isles. "Leave me alone!" the Terran shouted as he swung some sort of stick. The pirates laughed again, took the stick and casually knocked the one-legged man down.

"Look here, you've got to stop doing this or you won't have a leg left to stand on!" one of the pirates gibed. The pirates laughed some more.

Jan felt the anger rise from the pit of his stomach to the back of his neck. No one should have to endure that humiliation. His hands balled into fists as he began to consider the ways to help that man. Obviously, he was no more a pirate than he was a Tromian. Someone captured in a raid then, forced to help these pirates as the Roxxas in Jan's native universe planned to force him? He began to study the chemical makeup of the area and tried to think of a way that he, alone and outnumbered, could stop the abuse. A big hand fell on his shoulder.

"What're you doin' out?" a harsh voice demanded.

He almost grabbed the pirate in a judo grip, but he stopped his reflexes in time and forced himself to relax. "Wha-what am I doing here?" he asked the man. "Who are you?"

The pirate looked at him, confused, and signaled his partners. "Don't be stupid! I don't have time for Trommy stupidity!" he demanded. "What're you doin' out after curfew?"

"I don't know, I've never been out after curfew. I... I don't even know how I got here!"

"Wait a minute... isn't he the transmuter that managed to hit himself in the head?"

"Yeah, I think he is."

"Seems like the knock on your head made you forget some things, Trommy."

Jan breathed in a shuddering breath and released it in a sigh. His act was working. "Oh, please, sirs, I mean to do no harm. I just--" he was interrupted by another burst of laughter. "That's right, Norg, go fetch your walking stick! Good boy!"

Jan froze in surprise. "Norg? Lyle?" he said out loud.

"Yeah, that's the Terrie's name. C'mon you... you're an Arrah, aren't you? I think I know where your tribe is. No games now."

"No, no, of course not, sir," Jan replied humbly, with just enough fear as a strong hand grasped his arm in a too-tight grip.

Once at home, the pirates knocked at the door loudly, waking everyone inside. The baby began crying. "Come on, damn you! Get up!"

Valla opened the door. "Yes? Jan, what are you doing out?"

"I-I guess I was wandering in a daze," he explained innocently.

"I'm sorry, sirs," she told the pirates, "I promise it will never happen again."

"Seems you son's forgot a lot of the rules. So we havta make sure you're gonna teach him."

"I swear on the Gods we will teach him again to behave."

"Yes, you will, " one of the pirates promised. "And to make sure..." He began walking towards Chya, who was holding the baby.

"NO!" Jan's niece shouted, "You can't!"

The pirate knocked her down and took the baby. "We're gonna keep the baby until we're sure he does know how to behave properly."

Jan tensed and took a step towards them. "If anyone's done something here, it's me. Leave the baby with his mother."

"Look who's giving us orders!"

Jan bit his tongue. The way it was going the baby and he would be kidnapped soon.

"No--we're going to take the baby--you're gonna learn how to behave. Once we're sure you've learned how to behave, we'll bring back the baby."

Jan took another step. Was he risking his entire family doing what his instincts demanded? Suddenly Valla stepped in front of him and slapped him. He had been punched worse in combat training, but with the concussion it was enough to send the universe spinning. As Isset and Resh caught him and gently set him on the floor, Isset hissed, "That baby had better be alive and well when you return him."

"Oooo, listen to her! Valla, you've got a lot to do with both of your children," the pirates said and took the baby away.

Chya lunged at them, and landed on the familiar stranger. Surprised by the sudden weight, Resh let Jan go. Training took over and the wounded man tried to absorb the brunt of the impact. "NOOO! How could you let them take my baby? What did you do? Damn you! Damn you! They'll kill him!"

"No, they won't hurt the baby. I'll do what I have to to make sure of that," Jan promised, holding her and stroking the honey-gold hair.

"Jan, you haven't sounded like yourself for the past two days! You don't know what your talking about!"

Jan's voice lost its tense harshness. "Chya, I promise you, the baby will be fine."

"I echo that promise, Chya," Valla said. "Isset, I can't believe you'd be so reckless as to threaten them. Being a Rah isn't going to keep you safe! Wasn't losing your hand enough? Do you need to lose even more body parts?" Isset paled and grasped the tarnished hand. "Jan, they're right. You have a lot to learn in the next few days if we're going to stay safe."

And learn it he did. He learned all the nuances of greeting one's masters, how to obey all the laws he should have known. Any time he thought of straying, Valla was there, snapping at him, startling him, making sure he made no mistakes. He began to suspect that she was too used to being able to wield the whip, that somehow she was in league with the pirates. A Kapo, as Gim would call her; a slave overseer who was a slave.

The rest of his sick week was over and he went to the fields with Isset. The pirates who stole Valla's child were there. "So, you've learned yer lesson?" they barked at Jan.

"Yes, sirs, I have learned," Jan said respectfully, lowering his eyes.

"Good. We'll see 'bout returning the little one," the pair teased and walked off.

Isset shrugged. "They're honorable, as far as slime is. We may see the child soon."

"I'll look forward to it," Jan said evenly, his thoughts already leaving the premises.

"Keep your concentration with us," Isset demanded. "We're going to need you to make up 2500 tons of platinum."

Jan choked in surprise at the quota. No wonder there wasn't any rebellion! Nobody could think after making that much metal. If he was going to do anything, he'd have to do it soon. Even if it was surrender. No! That thought must never cross his mind. I must never acknowledge that this people's fate is slavery, he swore to himself.

"Isset," he whispered as they trudged their way home. "Come speak to me tonight, privately."

A look of confusion crossed her tired, lined face. "Of course, Jan," she answered, confused at such a request.

At home, Jan rested and waited until his sister came. "What did you want to talk to me about, Jan?"

"Isset, we can be free."

For a moment, hope flared in her eyes, only to be replaced with resignation. "Don't you think we've been doing that for fifteen years? Thinking about freedom?"

"We have to do more than think about it." Jan insisted quietly. "We have to act. Can you get a hundred strong transmuters who can act in concert together and change the material of our world from explosive to stable?"

"I think I could... I know Nym would help, if the masters haven't hurt him too badly with their...play. But the psi-detectors--"

"I can go in and take care of the detectors."

"But Jan, How? They're made up of complex materials and compounds! Some of it may even be carbon-based."

Jan thought about his answer for a moment as he rubbed his forehead with the tips of his fingers. He could either tell her the truth or let her think her brother had gone mad and didn't remember his own limitations. "Isset, do you remember when I was concussed and raving that you could not possibly be alive?"

"Yes."

"I wasn't raving. I'm from an alternative universe and on my Trom, you died. All of you."

Isset looked at him blankly, then suspicion narrowed her eyes. "What game is this? Have you finally used your imagination to leave all of reality behind"

"Isset, don't look at me I'm crazy. I'm telling you the truth. On Trom--the Trom I came from--the people decided they would not be slaves. They chose to fight the pirates. But you know how effective that psionic equipment is. We fought and died. As far as I know, I'm the only survivor.

"I escaped the pirates. I joined a group called the Legion of Super-Heroes and learned to use my powers in ways suited for my situation."

"Legion of Super-Heroes? There was a group of children calling themselves that who tried to rescue us. I thought most of them were killed."

Jan gasped for a breath that somehow escaped. "Killed?"

"Yea. Their leader, a girl, was crushed under a falling statue or something. The pirates captured a few at the time. They recorded killing the big one in specific detail to stifle any resistance from the worlds they enslaved, and played it over and over for months. They wanted us to know that we would never have any outside help to rescue us. I think the survivors disbanded shortly afterwards."

Jan closed his eyes to try to shut out the pain. "Imra. I wasn't there when she needed me. I never escaped Trom and she died. Oh, Gods..."

Isset studied the sudden stranger's eyes and his face. The anguish of discovering a friend's death was new, although the death was old. She stared into his eyes. There was anguish there and the eyes weren't glazed with shock, but were darkened with the knowledge that he had traded one family's existence for another's. His liquid blue eyes weren't hardened by slavery, but darkened by surviving. He knew what he was saying and believed it completely.

"Tell me about your life," she ordered softly.

Jan looked to the sky, not bothering to disguise his tears. "For months, I ran from Roxxas and his gang. Then I realized that he was chasing me and would do everything in his power to capture me. He raided the worlds he thought I was on. I had giri, an obligation to stop him from hurting anyone else....

"Imra, Imra was the first person I trusted with my secret. I still had to hide, but I had to convince the Legion that I was a worthwhile candidate. She had just lost Garth a few weeks before that... I was there to stop the statue from crushing her. I changed the silver to aluminum..."

"Jan, I want the day-to-day details. What's it like to live among aliens? What's it like to be free?"

"You couldn't have forgotten," Jan responded.

"Maybe I have," she replied.

He closed his eyes to put his memories in order. "I have a holo-screen for a wall. For a long time, I tried to recreate the Square... but it hurt too much to look at. For many years, most of my vacations were here, building the tsurins wherever I could find proof one of us had fallen. During the times I rested I played my vaslet. Hendrix was good for when I was angry, especially his version of "The Star Spangled Banner". Mozart was good for any kind of mood. So were the Beatles, Acquinius... Shvaughn introduced me to them..." His eyes had a faraway look of longing.

"Tell me about her."

"She has your hair color. That is, the hair color you had when Roxxas--arrived. Her eyes are green. She has this tremendous patience with me. When we first met, Earth was being invaded by the Khunds. I barely glanced at her. But then we met again, and she was--she was a mess actually. One of the auto-defenses had just snatched her up and threatened to turn her over to the Science Police, the very agency she worked for. Her hair was all tousled, her seams out of line, and her equipment scratched." He smiled, "But she was acting like was no big deal. It took me totally off-guard. She had to know I was attracted to her, but I was so afraid... If I loved her, would she go away too? She waited for me to realize that I needed her more than I needed the safety in not caring for anyone... in that way. Tenzil made it pretty clear I was too much of a burden for him, and Dirk is unattainable as a lover. I'll accept his love as a bond-brother. Imra's the same. Besides, they're all Legionnaires... they'll have someone to help them when they're in real trouble. And now, Shvaughn will too. Gods, how long have I been here? They must be worried sick! I've got to get a message to them somehow."

Finally, Isset believed him. "The pirates have all the sub-space communications here."

"Even if we did have it, I'm not sure how that would help," he admitted. "Isset, I meant what I said. I can change compounds, even carbon bases. I can destroy the defenses that keep our powers in check. But the second I do that--the second that you and others can tell you're free, you've got the change our planet! It has to be nearly instantaneous, and you have to work together."

"And just how are you planning to get to that equipment? It's inside that ship!" He didn't answer her. "Jan! How are you planning to get into that ship? Or for that matter, go anywhere? They have guards!"

"I can fight, Isset. I don't like it much, but I can do it fairly well. Also, one of the people they've got--their biochemist--he's a Legionnaire."

"He was a Legionnaire! Fifteen years ago!"

"He's still a Legionnaire, Isset. All I have to do is remind him of that."

"And how do you know they'll even let you see him?"

"They have to; he's their expert on Tromian physiology. If I can't get him to help, I can do it myself. I have to cripple that ship, its weapons and the psionic devices. I may need help with the weapons. I'm definitely going to need help with the pirates. But none of this will matter if they can blow up our world from under us!"

"I can find the people, Jan. Trust me on that." She took a deep breath and studied him. "You really are from another world, aren't you? Another Trom? How long have you been alone?"

He sighed, allowing the pre-fight tension to drain and sad memories to take its place. "My people died fifteen years ago. The same day your people lost your freedom."

"Fifteen years? You've had no one who understands what you are?"

"My friends understand me."

"How do you live, knowing no one can sing your lineage? How do you handle only hearing the harshness of Interlac?"

"I make it. I have to, remember? But there are times I find that I miss this place... this living place... horribly."

"If you succeed in freeing us, will you stay?"

"I don't know. I haven't really thought that far."

She stepped back and considered his words. "Well, I've got some work to do. I'll let you know when I think I've gathered enough people."

"Sounds good, Isset. Good luck."

"And may the Gods fortune you as well."

For sixteen days, Jan waited. And while he was working, he was wondering: Where were his Legionnaires? Didn't his friends know he was missing? Was the Jan who belonged here with them? Was his doppler so completely like him that they didn't understand that wasn't him? Perhaps some emergency had stolen their attention away from the idea one of their own was missing. Then he began to fret over them as well as his own fate and the fate of these people to whom he was so attached.

Finally, after days of working in other parts of what he called "the quarry," Isset came to work with him again. It was late in the day, and his face was streaked with dirt and sweat. "It's done, Jan; I have the volunteers."

"Good. Tell them they need to be ready by noon, tomorrow. That's when I start my part. Anytime after that, it can happen; they can be free and have to act."

"Understood. I'll let them know that."

That afternoon it was hot, even for a Tromian. Jan sighed, wiped his brow and considered just how far he was throwing himself into the Lion's Den. And then he considered just how he knew the phrase and laughed. Over half of his life was spent being a Legionnaire on Earth and other worlds. However, the first few years, the years that were supposed to count, were the years he spent on Trom. Which one was he? And was he Legionnaire enough to convince somebody who had given up on the dream to become a Legionnaire again? So much of his plan rested on his ability to communicate with a Terran. It was now time to find out how successful he would be.

"Oh, Gods, Nye!" he hissed to himself, sagging to the ground.

One of the pirates saw him. "What is it? Why aren't you working? You're not done yet!"

Jan looked up and tried to be frightened of the whip. "Oh, please, Honored Sir, I know not what has happened. My powers--they aren't working! I can't Sense anything! I can't summon the transformation!"

"What? This is no time to play games with me, boy." The whip lashed out at Jan.

Isset could no longer watch. "Nye! You don't understand! He had a concussion! Apparently there were some delayed effects! He can't use his powers properly!"

"Never heard of that. So you can't use your powers? Even to avoid some more pain?" The pirate sneered and lashed out at him again.

Jan longed to take that electric whip and ram it down the man's throat. But patience and the plan dictated that he remind still. "I can't do it, Honored Sir. You can beat me until I'm dead and I would never be able to change anything again, but I cannot do it now."

"Oh, HELL! Quryx, Ilya! This idiot can't use his powers anymore! What should we do with him?"

"Never heard of one of them losing their powers 'cause of a concussion... not that way. Maybe its something else. Let's take him to our little boy genius and see what happens."

"Ha! You'd like that, wouldn't you, Ilya? Well, C'mon you! Get up, yer comin' with us."

"Where?"

"To the ship."

The Tromians who had been trying not to pay attention gasped. Nobody... no Tromian ever returned from the ship in quite their right minds.

Jan inhaled slowly. The ship was where he needed to be. "Well, if I must, I must," he said, half to himself, half to the pirates as he shrugged. "Shall we go?"

"I thought yer mommy taught you how to be scared, Trommy."

"My mother taught me the importance of respecting you, Sir." Jan replied as he fought the sneer that was creeping into his voice. "As for fear--I don't see where it can make the situation any more comfortable. Therefore I prefer to do without it."

They took him into the ship and brought him into a small room with a cot, some diagnostic equipment, and some equipment Jan never saw before. Now he was beginning to feel the first tendrils of fear. "I hate medicenters!" he cursed under his breath, remembering the four months of tests he underwent when he first came to Earth. Seeing that he was going to be alone for a while, he sat on the cot and waited. There were no pictures on the wall or one magazine to read. He began to reach out with his Sense and discovered it would not work. Even in here the psishields blinded him.

The door dilated open and inside walked a man with one leg and two crutches. He stubbornly wore the fragments of a frayed and faded headband in his brown and silver hair. "Well, what's wrong with you?" he asked brusquely.

"My powers aren't working."

"Of course they're not working! There's a bunch of psishields!"

"They weren't working outside, either," Jan said distinctly.

"Great and I'm supposed to help you get your powers back. You must be from the Rah tribe."

"I'm an Arrah."

"Whew! In that case, we better eliminate this room's shield and see what's wrong with you."

"I would appreciate any help you could give me."

"Why? So you can go back out there and make up another steel block?"

Under the scientist's bitterness, Jan wondered, was there defiance? Something he could use? The man turned and looked at him again. Jan knew that face, although the last time he saw that face was eight years ago, just before death made Lyle Norg a memory in Jan's native universe. The voice was rougher, but otherwise the same.

"Tell me, Lyle," he began softly. "Have you kept up with your juggling?"

Lyle fell against the console. "How do you know me?"

"It's a long story," Jan admitted. "Why don't you shut down the psishield? It's making me very uncomfortable and we have much to speak of."

Lyle stared at Jan for a long time and wondered if he should trust this stranger. "Better to have hope and take the chance of dying than to continue living this death," he said and turned off the machine.

For a euphoric moment, Jan Sensed the composition of everything in this room. The ways the molecules all held on to each other, perfectly balanced. In looking at it, Jan perceived how the balances meshed into something larger. "Thank you, Lyle; You have no idea how uncomfortable that makes a Tromian."

"I have a general idea."

"Yeah. That's right."

"Now who the hell are you?"

"I'm an Arrah; my name is Jan." Jan took a deep, dramatic breath. "I'm also called Element Lad. I'm a member of the Legion of Super-Heroes. I was born in an alternative universe."

An insane hope in Lyle's eyes flared and died. "Oh. You're the one who knocked his head against a block and started raving about all of the Tromians being dead?" he asked cynically.

"Hmm. I see news travels fast here. And gossip is one of the most efficient, if not reliable, ways of communication on a world this small. Lyle, I'm not making this up: I was born in an alternative universe. A couple of things are a little different there."

"There are no alternative universes," Lyle stated flatly and began working with some of the equipment. "Now, is your head still hurting?"

Yes, I'm beginning to feel a headache coming, Jan thought to himself. "That's not what quantum physics suggests, or Querl Dox's time research."

"You can't possibly know about that. Or are you part-telepath?"

"No, no telepathic training, except how to guard my thoughts. What do you want me to say to prove to you I am a Legionnaire? Tell you about Imra's and Querl's work to free Mon-El from the Phantom Zone? Or the fact that Brainy doesn't always consider the ramifications of his work? That Gim's mother brings latkes and gelt every Chanukah, and that Mrs. Krinn adopted all of us as some sort of unofficial den mother?"

"Research and good guesses would give you that information."

"And were would I get my resources? What would convince you? I know--" And he began to recite the dedication oath of the Legion, and finished with, "'I pledge always to use my super-power only for the good of all people and never for selfish purposes'".

Lyle stopped to listen and then turned around. "That was never broadcast. You really have taken that oath."

"For the past fifteen years of my life. As I've said, my people are dead. I became a Legionnaire to make sure nothing like that would happen again. Lyle, Invisible Kid, will you help me?" Lyle remained hesitant. "Listen to me: It will be a chance to get some revenge on these bastards and redeem yourself for helping them. These people don't need to be enslaved any longer, but the only way we can get free is with your help. Lyle, you kept me alive when I first came to the Legion. After we captured Roxxas, I was dying of radiation poisoning and space exposure. I just wanted to let go and return to my people. But you... you found a helmet for me to wear and held onto my shoulders... and told me to keep going; that I was needed. Between you and Imra, I gathered enough hope to stay alive. I guess this is my chance to give you some of the hope back."

"It's risky... people will get killed."

Jan sighed. "I thought about that. But more people will be killed if things continue the way they are."

"Probably."

"Can you still turn invisible?"

"Yeah, but what good am I going to be sneaking around with crutches?"

"I can make a small platform of 152 for you. You can use it to hoist yourself up, like you would the crutches and guide yourself that way."

"What's 152?"

"An anti-gravity element. Mon-El 'discovered' it when he joined the Legion."

"Oh, yes. I remember that, but it didn't have any practical applications."

"Brainy found some. That, and my people knew of it for centuries. Anyway what I need is for the psionic equipment to be eliminated. If you can turn it off, I can get rid of it and engines."

"I know where the central controls are. But how are you going to get rid of it? There's a lot of compounds--"

"That's something the last few years taught me."

"Yes, I think that it would work," Lyle agreed. "So tell me about my other self. What am I like?"

Jan swallowed and hated the tears that welled in his eyes. "You died, Lyle. You kept all of us from getting killed by a monster, but it was able to kill you. It happened a little over eight years ago, but it's safe to say we still miss you and that the others would be thrilled to see you."

"If they come, I'd like to see them... if we're still alive. Meanwhile, let's see what we can arrange." Jan saw the apprehension in the other man's eyes. He wanted to reach out to him and comfort him, but he needed Lyle thinking about the battles ahead.

Over an hour later, Lyle Norg slipped out of the door invisibly and Jan began to wait and concentrate on the schematics he had to learn orally. Fortunately, Trom was rich in the oral traditions and he could remember the schematics by making them into a cadence. "Oh please, Gods, let Lyle succeed in destroying the psi-blockers," he prayed, waiting for the moment he could Sense the entire ship. After that, it would be simply a matter of concentrating on those parts that were the engines and changing them into something inert. With no engines, there would be no broadcast power for weapons or psishields. Jan smiled to himself. "Simply"... Ha! If he succeeded, it would be lucky if he could still stand.

In a stunning moment, he was able to Sense the entire ship. Hundreds of trillions of molecules made their shape known to him as he searched outwards. This was the hard part: Searching for what he needed amongst all the information he was receiving. Finally he found what he believed to be the engine room and gently pulled apart the molecules that made up the intake valve on the ion drive and rendered the emergency batteries inert.

"Now let's see what you do," he muttered to the pirates. Now was the time to start moving. Lyle hadn't made the communication to the Tromians yet, which meant Jan had to assume the worst. Jan remembered the directions that Lyle gave him and began heading for the communication systems. This time he needed to evade the pirates. It was too important to tell the people what happened, although his Sense told him over a hundred already knew and were acting on that knowledge. Fortunately the pirates seemed unaware at the time.

Jan got to the communications room and shouted into the microphones, "My people, the psionic neutralizers and detectors have been destroyed. The ship cannot take off; Trom is returned to His natural composition. Hear me, my people, (how good it felt to say those words!) now is the time to make our bid for freedom. They only have their hand weapons; they cannot harm a great number of us. Destroy their weapons! Take them, and we will send them back to the United Planets to face U.P. Justice!"

"Very nice, now tell them to disregard that," a familiar voice told Jan. Jan felt his hackles rise. His teeth bared and the snarl came from the deepest pit of his soul, "Roxxas!" He whirled and saw Roxxas flanked by two of his goons. A third was holding Lyle as blood oozed from the Terran's shoulder.

"Very good, you know my name, Trommy. Now tell your people to disregard the statement, and I promise you and your accomplice a clean death."

"Never, Madman! You destroyed my world, but I won't let you take this one!" Jan leapt at him. Roxxas was too startled to shoot. The other two barely had time to touch their triggers before their guns disappeared.

"You're not going to keep this world!" Jan promised in a voice not quite his own. Before the pirates could move to protect their leader, they found themselves stuck to the deck. Roxxas barely had time to move before Jan leapt on him and wrapped his hands around the pirate's neck. He began squeezing, feeling the bones and muscle give beneath his hands until he realized what he was doing. "No, you won't trick me into this again."

The pirate gasped for breath. "Norg, he's mad! You're helping a madman and he's going to destroy everything around us!"

"If this man is mad," Lyle wheezed through his pain, "then I embrace his madness. Long Live the Legion!"

Jan smiled sardonically. "Time to put you in your place, Roxxas. The only place for rabid dogs--a cage." With those words he transformed the air around Roxxas into inertron, pulled Lyle away from the men and did the same for their area. "Don't worry, I'll make sure somebody lets you out," he promised.

"You do it now!" a new voice demanded. Jan looked towards Lyle and saw Roxxas's daughter standing over the Terran with a pistol aimed at his head.

"You have got to be kidding!" Jan snapped and willed the gun into air. Lyle used his good arm and elbowed her in the ribs. She fell as the air emptied her diaphragm and Jan glued her to the deck. "Come on, Lyle, let's get you to a healer."

Lyle shook his head. "Jan, you don't have time. Look, the pirates not on the ship are going to be blasting at everyone. You need to stop them. Give me a gun, and I'll worry about getting myself somewhere safe."

"Lyle--"

"Do it! You know that I'm right!"

The problem was that Jan knew he was right. "Okay. We'll get you a gun and go on our ways. Good luck, Legionnaire."

"Yeah, you too, Legionnaire."

Lyle invisibly subdued the next pair of pirates, then found a gun and waved it to show it to Jan. Jan nodded and took off for the streets.

It was not as bad as he feared, but there were many Tromians who did not know how to fight for their lives. And he found himself interceding in many fights before he was even heading where he wanted to be: Home. For he was fairly sure that every pirate knew exactly what family headed the rebellion and he didn't want Isset or even Valla suffer for his actions.

He charged through the door and saw one of his fears realized. Resh was on the floor staring at nothing as blood drained from his mouth and the large hole in his chest.

"You didn't think we'd figure who started this mess, Trommy? Now surrender or yer mom and babe get holed."

"I promised you if you harmed that child you would suffer. And I have had enough!" Jan growled. The gun exploded in the pirate's hand. The child and mother were protected by an inertron screen. Valla changed the screen herself and picked up the crying child. "Resh is dead and it's your fault!"

Jan sighed. "Mother, I need to speak to you about this later! Now get yourself to a hiding place."

As Valla left, Jan slid to the floor. "I'm too tired for this crap." he mumbled. "I need to rest... just a few minutes. All I need is a few minutes." When Jan opened his eyes a short while later, he discovered that the pirates were quickly routed without Roxxas's leadership, and were brought back to their spaceship. The Tromians were very animated in trying to decide what to do with the pirates.

"Kill them and be done with it!" one group was saying.

"Send them to the Khunds!"

"NO! The Dominion!"

"The U.P.!"

Jan stepped into the circle. "Nye! We are not killers! Our credo is the sanctity of life and how precious it is. Who are we to squander that gift? I've spoken with the United Planets before and they believe in life almost as much as we do! (I hope...)" Jan added to himself.

What are we indeed, Jan? a small voice whispered deep in his soul; the voice of his long-dead mother.

"Let's put them on the ship's escape pods and freeze the navigcomps after programming in the closest U.P. world! Give them enough water and nutrients to live on. We should never kill, except for self-defense. Even then, we should seek alternatives. We shouldn't let fifteen years of this hell change who we are to the point where we will forget that."

The people began murmuring amongst themselves and then the majority cheered. Jan nodded tiredly. "Good. Get them into the escape pods. I'll set course."

"The rest of us shall plan the festival!" someone in the crowd shouted.

For a moment Jan nearly protested over the cheers. There was too much to do to restore the City; celebration wouldn't change that. Then he realized it would be the first time in fifteen years that these people would have a chance to celebrate anything. And there were demons to expel from that time. "I'll be looking forward to this one myself," he agreed before overseeing the expulsion of the former overseers.

During the long night, Jan and the other Tromians enjoyed the heady brew of freedom and allowed themselves to be intoxicated with it and any other chemicals they cared for. There was food, wine, dancing, lovemaking, fireworks, singing and laughter that was not inhibited by slavery. People who saw no need for decorum to stifle expression had no sense of it now as they greeted the long lost Sisters of Body and Soul back to their world. There was a flash of red light and inside it five figures materialized: Outworlders as such the Tromians had never seen before. There was a woman standing--floating actually--in the center that truly surprised them. Her pristine whiteness was marred only by the blood red stone that matched her eyes and lips. Beside her was a young man who looked so much like Jan Arrah that he must be Jan himself. The Tromians stared at the tall, red-haired woman, and the blond woman at her side in pink and white. There was a man in red and blue who seemed to project power just by breathing and another man--also a man of power--in red and yellow. As they stared at the five strangers they wondered if the strangers where here to take away their newfound freedom and wondered if a fist was wiser than the open arms of friendship. Imra sensed their fears and sent a psychic shout for Element Lad.

For a few tense minutes nothing happened. But then running out of the crowd with a shout of joy was Jan--their Jan. He hugged Dirk and Imra as hard as he could. "I didn't think you'd get here! I thought I'd never see you again! This is GREAT!" Then he looked at his counterpart. The same bone structure was there, but the Legionnaire noted that his muscles were thicker after all the years of living on Earth--his counterpart wore his old neck and back braces. The other Jan's eyes were the same liquid blue, but they were stagnant. All the years of living without hope reflected in them as much as the years of living with the grief and loneliness reflected in the Legionnaire's eyes.

"You're me," the other said with a truer Tromian pronunciation than Jan actually spoke. His Tromian was as fluent as ever, but the Interlac phonetics blunted the lyrical quality of the words.

The crowd drew apart and allowed Valla through. She hugged the son she bore and stared at them both. Then with a baleful glare in her eyes, she told the Legionnaire, "You are no son of mine."

The words were like a physical blow. Mentally, Jan staggered; his breath knocked out of him. I should've expected her hate... he told himself.

Mon-El shook his head sympathetically and Dirk dropped his hand on his friend's shoulder. "You gonna be all right?" he asked. Jan nodded as Valla left.

"I take it the problem's been solved here?" Ayla asked anxiously. "Damn it all, Brainy was right again! He said if we gave you two weeks you'd have the planet free!"

"It wasn't just me. Thousands of Tromians worked this day too. I can't take much credit for this at all. This is fantastic! It was one of my few regrets about staying here--is that I'd never see you again... or Shvaughn."

Imra glanced nervously at the other four. This was something they were afraid of: Jan would not want to return if his counterpart could be in this dimension as well. The rest of the Tromians nearby continued to stare confusedly until Jan decided how to explain to them. Taking a lyrical voice, Jan began to describe the miracle of the multiverse made of universes layered on top of universes, each the same yet each were totally different; and how the Gods, in Their infinite wisdom, brought him here to aid the Tromians who chose life over death, while helping him live again with the only people he could call his own.

"Jan, you're thinking about staying here," Dirk challenged.

"I have to, these are my people. This is something I've prayed for over half my life, Dirk."

"What about your counterpart?"

"He can stay. If necessary, I'll take a new name. After all, I'm used to having more than one identity."

Imra felt a tendril of dread reach out and snap at her from Dirk.

"What about Shvaughn?" Ayla suggested.

"Ayla, would you and the others do me a favor? When you go back, tell her the situation and ask her to come?"

"Jan, you can't just ask her to uproot herself from everything she knows! And why don't you ask her?" Lar Gand demanded.

"I don't know if I can return if I leave here," Jan admitted. "I'm afraid the dimensional boundaries will be closed to me, since my counterpart is here."

A young woman with a musical instrument slung over her shoulder came into the group. "Come, Jan," she called, pulling the Legionnaire from his friends. "You told us you would teach us some of the music you have learned, and we agreed to teach you some of our songs."

"Yes. Please, just a moment. Do you mind? I really did promise them."

"Of course, Jan, go on," Imra urged, to the others' astonishment.

"Yeah, why don't you slip loose? You haven't had anyone to play dueling vaslets with in a long time," Dirk agreed, following Imra's lead.

"I know; this is something I've been looking forward to ever since I got here. I'll talk to you in the morning! Enjoy the party! It's one hell of a celebration!"

"Yes, I can see it is," Imra agreed softly.

"Well, Imra, do you think this is just infatuation or the real thing?" Dirk asked.

Imra glanced back, and sighed. "I don't know. I'd like to think he understands he's needed in his own universe. But I'm not sure we can just take him from this. He's got to see the fact that he needs to be there himself, or at least away from this Trom."

"Why does he need to be away from this Trom?" Dirk asked. "If this is where he wants to be, why force him to go anywhere else?"

"We could tell him the universes will be unbalanced if he doesn't come with us," Lar suggested.

"The universes will be unbalanced," Mysa agreed, "but we don't know if that will cause any danger."

Imra shook her head. "I don't think we should use that unless we have to. Besides, Lar, would you go back home if you could find it exactly as you left it a thousand-odd years ago?"

"No, but I think my family situation was a bit different from what Jan's is."

"Perhaps."

A thin blonde walked up to Dirk. "Ellai, you're Jan's friend aren't you? Dirk? I noticed you looking at me. I was wondering if you were interested in joining the celebration?"

"Well, yes..." Dirk decided, a mischievous grin crossing his face.

The blonde slipped her arms over his arms and back. "Well, then, why don't you come with me? I'm sure we can find something to do. I'm Chya, Jan's niece."

"Jan's niece?" Dirk repeated, doing a quick mental calculation of her age.

"Yea. Don't let that worry you. After all, you are not my parent or sibling and we lie with whomever we wish on Trom. You are very pretty."

"Uhh, well, thank you. We're not doing anything until morning, are we folks?" he asked the other Legionnaires.

"Well, I can't see any reason not to enjoy the festivities. We might be able to pry Jan away in the morning. I think you should stay alert for... possibilities, Dirk. We are technically on a vital mission. Keep your eyes open."

"I'll go cross-eyed," muttered Dirk. Lar Gand caught the whisper but decide to keep silent as Dirk walked away. A group of dancers came and whirled Ayla away as a couple of Tromian women were proudly presenting a very full table of pastries and wines to Imra. "Please, bond-sister of our savior, will you not try this?" one asked. Imra picked up the very dainty, flaky pastry and bit into it. Spicy sweet juices burst into her mouth as she bit into a grape-like fruit. Savoring the wine and honey taste, she asked for a recipe. Even as part of her concentration was on the recitation, she worried at how she translated the greeting; "bond-sister of our savior." (Legionnaires, we've work to do) she told the others. (We need to know if these people can really handle having Jan around.)

"Excuse me," Imra asked one of the women, "if Jan were to choose to stay here, who would he have to petition?"

"Why his family, of course. His family would choose whether or not he could stay. But after all he's done for us, I can't really see him not staying, can you?"

"I... am not really sure quite yet," Imra admitted. (Okay, group let's find Jan's family and start talking to them. Dirk, since you're already with Jan's niece, why don't you talk to her? If you can keep your hands off of her for just a few minutes?)

(Yes, ma'am,) Dirk replied, not really paying attention to his colleague at that point.

(Okay, everyone; when you find out something, report to me.) Imra broke contact and turned to the native Jan. "You would be responsible for part of that decision, I suspect. How would you vote?"

"He has done more in two weeks than I have done in over two decades, Lady Ranzz. He does not think of greatness, he simply does. He will make Trom a world to reckon with if he stays," the doppler answered morosely. Imra sensed the confusion of identity. What would be the native Jan's purpose in a universe that had another and far more dynamic Jan Arrah?

In between sighs and caresses, Dirk did ask the question Imra was interested in. "Oh, the other Jan can stay if he likes; I have no problem with that," Chya answered. Dirk relayed the answer to Imra.

Imra considered the two pieces of information while Lar Gand sought out Valla. "He is not my son--" she told the Legionnaire, "--he is a menace. If he stays here he will recklessly endanger all of us."

"How so?" Lar asked.

"He got Isset's lover killed with his dreams of freedom and the way he did it! Will he see us as intergalactic traders? All of the universe will know what we are because of him! He will change us in ways that the Gods never meant us to change!"

Nym agreed with Chya. Arn was Valla's echo and registered a softer version of her statement. Imra decided to find Isset herself. Perhaps, since they were Jan's "sisters", Isset would confide in her more.

"I was wondering when you would come," the older woman said as she nodded an invitation to Imra. In the half-light of torches, Imra saw a pair of white armbands around Isset's biceps. Jan was wearing a set as well and on his original uniform he wore similar markings; the marks of grief. "I have heard your group has asked my family one question and that they are equally divided in whether he should stay. You come to me to hear more truth and perhaps break the deadlock. Very well. I hear my people as they begin to sing his praises. I see my people waiting for every decision he makes and how they hang onto his every word. You've come to ask me if I think he should stay and the answer is Nye; he must leave."

The answer stunned Imra for she sensed Isset's deep love for Jan. "Jan always speaks of you as the one who held his greatest affection, Isset."

"And I say to that Jan, the one whom you helped raise, is more like the brother I would have had if the damnable pirates hadn't crushed his spirit. But your Jan is used to leading, and my people are used to being lead. They will not learn how to govern themselves. If he is here, they would allow him to be the government and hang on his every word and decision and give him every question of wisdom or foolishness they will create. And in time, he will grow old and die. Who will we have then? His child? Will his child be as wise as he is? Probably not. He must leave, for the sake of the freedom he has given us."

Imra heard the truth about Jan but wondered if his sister was not being too cynical about her own people. "You don't think he'd have a government established by the time he grew old?" she asked.

"He would have a government that would answer to him. Their loyalty would be to him and they would agree with everything he said. We have been slaves for fifteen years. We have learned to say 'yea' well."

Imra didn't chuckle at the partial joke. "I think you're right. Let's go talk to him."

"Agreed."

They found their way to the musicians Jan accompanied and heard them playing music that Imra found familiar: Rokk's Jimi Hendrix. "Hoy!" Isset called. "Where is Jan?"

"Oh you mean the new one? He went to the healers' court to see the other outworlder."

"Thank you."

Imra followed Isset. "There used to be a hospital on the border of the Scarred Lands, before the pirates dismantled it. Jan's other sister was the Shrouded Woman for a time, and helped the healers with those that could not be helped. Now our healers find themselves in an office building," the Tromian woman explained as irony and sadness mixed in her voice. Even if Imra didn't know Isset's history, that tone would have revealed the old soldier in Jan's sister.

"What other outworlder?" Imra asked.

"There was an outworlder who helped Jan inside the ship while we were trying to return Trom to His natural state. Apparently the stranger has taken a lethal dose of radiation."

"Oh. That's too bad."

While Imra and Isset walked towards the Healers' Court, Jan watched a healer walk across the room. "I am sorry, Jan. We can do nothing for him, except make him comfortable. The radiation from the gun was just the finishing touch. His body has been long rejecting the radiation levels of our world."

"Thank you, Healer."

"I wish there was more I could do. Courage doesn't deserve a slow death like this."

"No, it doesn't."

"I will leave you to spend time with your friend. Lyle, please tell me if you need anything."

"Thank you, Honored Healer, I will."

Jan approached the deathbed. "Lyle, I'm so sorry."

"Enough, Jan. You gave me the chance to die a free man. And a chance to have something besides pain and humiliation in my life. I remembered what freedom felt like, and it's good to feel it again even if I am dying."

Jan felt twin tears slip past his blond lashes and down his cheeks. The were followed by another and another.

"Hey, enough of that! Tell me about my other self, Jan. Did I win any awards? Did I get to go on lots of adventures? Did I have anyone special in my life?"

Jan took a deep breath. "Lyle, when it came to the biosciences, even Brainiac Five had to defer to your knowledge. As a Legionnaire and as a scientist, you were recognized and admired. I--"

"Were we lovers, Jan?"

"No. But what you did for me, I owe you more than I could ever repay. You taught me to adapt to a higher gravity so I didn't use a neck and back brace long. And you taught me how to juggle. I know it sounds silly; it's the one thing I can do that I can concentrate on completely. It's the one thing that doesn't remind me I am--was alone. I couldn't give what you were asking for, not back then. However there was a young mutant that you were teaching to use his powers; Condo was his name. You two were quite close."

Ayla burst in. "Jan! We've been looking all over for you! Have you been...." her voice trailed off as she recognized the withered face among the pillows. "Oh my God!"

"You know..." Lyle began, "you look a lot like an old friend of mine: Garth Ranzz."

"I'm Garth's twin, Ayla. Uh, I joined the Legion as Lightning Lass."

She stared a while longer. "Lyle?"

"Yes, but I have to confess, Ms. Ranzz, I really don't know you."

"No... I guess you and my counterpart never did meet. I heard you helped Element Lad free this world."

Imra and Isset came in, followed by Dirk who immediately recognized who was in the bed.

"Oh my God!" Imra and Lyle shouted in unison, each seeing a ghost. "Imra?"

"Lyle. I don't believe it."

"I saw you crushed."

"I sensed your death."

"Good. Nobody needs any introductions," Dirk muttered under his breath. "This just gets freakin' weirder."

"Dirk, shut up!" Ayla whispered.

"So," Lyle started. "What's your life like, since you have the opportunity to have one."

"Well, umm," Imra thought for a moment while settling herself in the chair by Lyle's bed. "I'm, well, I'm still a Legionnaire, obviously. I'm married; I've got two boys."

"Married? To whom?"

"Garth. Yes, we were able to revive him! It took months and months, but we found a cure. The boys are... well, they're beautiful.... I can't say I have too many regrets when I look back at my life."

"That's good. I remember yours--the other Imra's grief for Garth. The guilt damn near tore her apart. So you two are sisters-in-law?"

"Yep."

"Do you two get along?"

"Yes," Imra answered carefully as Ayla began shaking her head 'no'. "We always get along." Ayla started snickering. "You can see how it is," Imra shot a mock angry look at Ayla.

"At least we work well as teammates; that's what really counts," Ayla volunteered. "And we don't drive Garth crazy."

"Maybe the anti-radiation treatments on Earth can help Lyle," Jan suggested. "Maybe he should go back in my place."

Imra took in a deep breath, held it for three counts and released it audibly. "Jan, that's the reason we came here. We need to talk."

Jan never liked Imra's "We need to talk" statement, since it usually meant something unpleasant. "Of course. Will you excuse us, Lyle? Ayla can probably answer any questions you've got about our universe," he said as he picked up his vaslet and walked out of the door. Dirk accompanied the Tromians and the telepath.

"Jan," Isset began the moment they stepped outside. "You can't stay; you mustn't."

"But why?" Jan shouted.

"Because if you do, you will have to become our leader."

"I don't mind guiding--don't give me that look, Imra. I know full well I like being leader. I had enough of it for a couple of years. --I don't mind guiding, but I don't understand what's so bad about my being a leader right now."

"I wonder how many 'presidents-for-life' said that," Dirk remarked cynically.

"Dirk, I'm not power mad! The last thing I want to do is take away the autonomy we just won!"

"You just won! If you didn't have the vision of freedom they wouldn't have had it!" Dirk stressed.

"Jan, they will give you that power! In time you won't notice its strain. You're strong enough, you'll adapt to it. But they'll depend upon you and depend upon you blindly. Their freedom will collapse into their dependence on you. But if you're not here, they'll have to work for their freedom." Isset explained.

"Nye, it wouldn't be that way. These people are stronger than you're giving credit for, Isset."

"You've been here for over fifteen days, Jan. I've been here for over fifteen years! Will you listen to me?"

Jan's face contorted in soul burning pain. His throat locked and his stomach felt it was struck by a mace. Without another word, he turned and ran down the hill.

Dirk looked at Imra. "You or me?" he asked.

"Neither of us this time, I think," Imra answered. "Let's just give him some time to get used to the idea."

"The hell with that, Imra! If someone just told me I could never see Earth again, I'd freak! I'll give him some time, but then I'm going down there and talking to him."

"Maybe you're right, Dirk," Imra assented after thinking about it for a moment. "I just know how much pain we've caused in the name of good intentions. I think it's safe to say we're three of the people who love him best."

"Yeah, you've got that right," Dirk snorted.

"I'm sorry I said that," Isset confessed to no one in particular. "I was a soldier when I was younger. I tend to be blunt. But I did not understand your remark, Dirk."

Imra glared at Dirk. "Don't worry; he was being blunt too. Of all the scummy things to say to him!"

"It worked, didn't it?" Dirk shrugged, knowing that Imra knew how badly he felt about what he said.

"But my loyalty is to my people and it has ever been my first loyalty. I can't let what was just won be taken away--not even by those who won it for us."

"We understand, Isset. We think Jan will too, in time."

"He can never come back here, " Isset sniffled. "He must go back to his universe, to his world, to his woman."

"Frankly, we're not sure Mysa's boom tube will allow us more than a round trip," Dirk admitted.

"Perhaps that is just as well. If the way is not there, he cannot succumb to temptation."

Jan sat by the ruins of the watchtower where Resh used to sit and stare at the skies. He was sobbing uncontrollably, feeling that this was a new injustice of a long line of injustices caused by the fates. The fact that he'd never look at these constellations again mirrored by a living city's lights just made the injustice seem that much more monstrous. A hand touched his shoulder.

"Hey. Thought the misery could use some company."

"It's okay, Dirk, I can be alone."

"Would you prefer that?"

Jan began sobbing again. "No. I can be alone on Trom as much as I want."

"Oh God, Jan, I'm so sorry for what I said." Dirk admitted, dropping to his knees and gathering Jan in his arms. Jan clutched Dirk's yellow collar and red tunic as the sobs began again. He never thought he'd cry for his homeworld's loss like this again.

"Thank you, bond-brother," he acknowledged in a rough croak before he trailed into silence.

As dawn began to sky with a faint pink and gold, Jan woke up. He looked around and saw Dirk sleeping beside him. Jan shook him. "It's time to go," he told his friend.

"Great," Dirk said, stretching. He discovered he was going to have a crick in his back for the rest of the morning. "I'll go tell the others."

"I'll meet you at the portal point," Jan said. As Dirk walked away, desperately wishing for a cup of coffee, Jan closed his hands against his biceps and clasped the white bands that showed his grief for Resh. The Resh he knew was long dead and that grief was long gone as well. This one never truly existed; at least that was what Jan had to tell himself. He placed the beautiful homemade vaslet beside Resh's Tower, knowing full well it would be found before anything could happen to it. He already had a vaslet back home and his people would need all the musical instruments they could get for a while until they could make more of them.

I'm not going to cry anymore, Jan told himself as the tears welled out of his eyes and a sob shuddered past his lips. It was a pleasant dream, but it's gone. Then he walked back to the portal point. He saw a familiar form in the shadows and thought about ignoring it. However, anger seemed so pointless in the last few minutes he'd ever share with his sister alive. He looked straight at her and the baby in her arms.

"No goodbyes for us, Jan?" Isset asked just before he joined the other Legionnaires. "I know I've harmed you, but I swear I would not have done so if there was any other way."

"I know, Isset. I-I wish you could come with us."

"I wish I could come with you, too. But they need somebody who can understand the weapons on that damned ship."

"There aren't many left. Lyle and I made sure of that."

"I know. Speaking of Lyle, he died last night. He asked you not to be sad. He died happier than he lived. Our people also need somebody who's got some leadership experience. But not the next local candidate for godhood. Keryonsai, brother of my father's body and my soul," she said, hugging herself and the baby close to the brother who would become a stranger.

"Keryonsai, Isset," he bade before he pushed her gently away and told the Legionnaires. "Let's get out of here."

After the Legionnaires reappeared on Earth, Jan and the others were checked for injuries. Jan then wandered the halls, haunting Legion Headquarters with a juggling ball in his hands. The loss still cut his soul and guided him to a statue of a long lost biochemist who was his friend.

"Jan?" a blessedly familiar voice called in joy and worry. "So here's where you've been. Considering how much you hate being in the Hall of Heroes, this is a big surprise." He turned and looked at his lover.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Shvaughn Erin begged.

"Hold me," he pleaded, grabbing her and crushing her to his trembling body.

She did until his grip loosened and then she pulled away. "Jan, honey, what is it?"

"I--let's go to my quarters; we can talk about it there."

Inside his rooms, he explained to her what happened. He tried to be dispassionate, but the tears kept falling.

Shvaughn gathered him up in her embrace and lead him to his bed. "Oh, Jan, I'm so sorry. What can I do to make it better?"

"Just hold me. Can you stay tonight?"

"Of course I can stay," she answered, and laid against him in the hope that the warmth of her body could ease some of the chill in his soul.

"I don't know why I'm so upset," Jan rationalized, "I began to realize I may not have belonged there well before Isset said anything. Do you know when I realized it?"

"When?"

"When I was playing the vaslet with other musicians. I listened to my music and heard the Terran influences in it. I was willing to leave the Terran music behind, but I was hoping, praying you would leave your world behind and come join me. I was so afraid the portal would close that I didn't dare come to ask you myself."

"Jan, it's all right," Shvaughn soothed and noticed he did not ask if she would have journeyed to Trom to live with him. After a while Jan subsided into sleep. It was not a good sleep, Shvaughn noticed. He twitched and murmured something in a language she would never be able to speak. He, in turn, later noticed the tension from her own body easing and her own breathing lighten as her body relaxed.

Sometime that night Jan woke up and listened to the recycling air in the vents. He smelled the jasmine perfume Shvaughn always wore and the salty-musky scent of her body underneath it. As he listened to the air conditioning and watched the hologram of night over the Grand Canyon on his bedroom wall, he felt Shvaughn's breath and evenly paced heartbeat. He listened and felt the rhythm of this place, so much a part of his own rhythm, and realized the truth: He was home.