The meeting hall was a commanding, awe-inspiring room. It was always humming with the sounds of the busy, mixed with impeccable mood lighting. But the most wondrous feature of all was the oval shaped polymer ceiling about the size of a standard practice Hover-ball court. Through it, one could look up and easily be lost in thought as they caught a glimpse of the Earth below... or above, depending on their perspective. The hall was enormous in size, easily able to comfortably accommodate 525 full-grown sentient beings at any given moment. It was a goal of the Legion's founder that one day his team would perhaps reach that ambitious membership quota, combining a love for his stalwart foundlings with the dream that the United Planets would actually include even half that many worlds. More of a dream than a goal, but R.J. Brande was a man who thought big. And he encouraged his Legionnaires to think big as well, one of the reasons he provided them with this amazing meeting hall. R.J. stood in one of the three ready rooms that flanked the meeting hall, its window overlooking the antechamber below. Behind him were attendants and other members of his personal security team, each assigned to some bit of business pertaining to this very important man. But his attention was not on his security team, or the crowded room beneath him; it was on the children he'd grown to love as his own, the ones lost in time. Each one of them with their greatly opposing yet complimentary personalities and idiosyncrasies was indeed dear to him, from Luornu's three bickering selves to Reep's playful charm. There was no way he could pinpoint a favorite Legionnaire. Even Shikari, one of the most recent to join his band of heroes, was someone he'd grown fiercely fond of. He was, after all, indirectly responsible for her race's creation. Now R.J. Brande shifted his focus to one 17-year-old man in particular, a man who'd stepped up to the plate and assumed a very pivotal, somewhat daunting role as stand-in leader of what remained of the Legion of Super-Heroes. He leaned his forehead to the glass partition and disengaged the mute on his hyper-plug, allowing him to hear quite clearly what was about to commence in the meeting hall.
"Esteemed members of the United Planets Council, President Wazzo, and all my honored guests," began Chuck after clearing his throat and firming his nerves with a steely grip on the podium before him. Murmurs began to subside. To the right of Chuck stood Shikari, wings retracted, wearing a formal Legion-issued evening gown, velvet red and satin white. Her turquoise hair was pulled up in a tight bun, small ringlets falling to either side of her face, and her grayish skin features were lightly accented by a glimmer of silvery cosmetics, revealing a wonderfully beautiful young sentient. On Chuck's left stood a lanky blonde-haired boy in formalwear whose colors matched the gown worn by Shikari. His hands were gloved, neatly folded at his abdomen. Chuck himself wore a similar variation of the suit his blonde friend wore, but he still sported his signature engineer's cap, backwards and perched just perfectly askew, small filters of black hair pouring through.
"As all of us are aware," he continued, "this ceremony is the very first of its kind, and it is with great pride that I am here speaking to you all today. 15 Earth-days ago, 27 of my closest friends disappeared into the time stream. And although the U.P. has a more than efficient policing structure in place, it has long been the responsibility of the Legion of Super Heroes to protect our ideals and, frankly, our safety. Without a Legion in place, would we have survived against the Blight? Or the Fatal 500? Or any of the varied galactic confrontations we've encountered the last few years? My answer is a resounding 'No.'
"None of us, however, has the liberty to let the U.P., or the galaxy, for that matter, go without the protection of the Legion. Wherever the 27 missing members of our Legion are right now, I am certain they are working toward getting themselves right back here in the 31st century where they belong. But today, a day when we are absent a Legion, we have a responsibility to ourselves and to all members of the United Planets to give every individual the comfort of knowing they have their protectors in place. With that I present to you the newest members of the Legion of Super Heroes!"
A cautious round of applause began and suddenly increased in vibrancy. Even President Wazzo, whose own daughter was one of the earliest members of the Legion and was now, in fact, lost in time herself, applauded with vigor. Above, looking on, R.J. Brande smiled solemnly. Many doubts filled his mind, and despite the fact that he was a positive, forward thinker and had faith in the decision to recruit these youngsters to full active, unsupervised duty, he knew most of them were green in the realm of battle, and he'd seen one too many losses in his day. One dead youth was one more than he ever wanted on his conscience. And already the list was horrifyingly long: James, Gim, Jan, Candi.
The unscripted, unprecedented ceremony began when the blonde fellow at Chuck Taine's side began to read off names. His name was Dyrk Magz, and once not too long ago he was a member of the Legion. It was the highlight of his young life, adventuring along with other teens from all over the galaxy, fraught with both thrill and apprehension. Dyrk had been recruited into the Legion under a similar circumstance when several Legionnaires were also lost in the time stream, one of whom was Cosmic Boy, a founding member of the Legion and a fellow Braalian. It had been a once in a lifetime opportunity for Dyrk to utilize his innate manipulative magnetic powers to 'fill in' for Cosmic Boy while the gap in the group was there. Dyrk had served his tenure under the codename Magno until a tragic battle with an ancient, mystical evil called Mordru robbed him of his powers. Since then he had served humbly as a liaison to the Legion and the U.P. as well as a handy assistant to Chuck Taine. Both non-super powered youths became fast friends as they remained intrinsic to the day to day operations of Legion World, but Dyrk still yearned for more. Although his friendship with Chuck was a dear one, Dyrk knew Chuck could never understand the loss he'd suffered; it was like losing a limb, like losing an essential part of himself. And although he feverishly enjoyed his work on Legion World, he longed to suit up and be Magno again, to ride the electro-magnetic pull in the atmosphere, to play Hover-ball the way all Braalians could. Yet here he was today, bestowing upon twenty-five strangers the title he so coveted: Legionnaire. Lucky for Dyrk, his disappointment was easily masked behind the near-contagious excitement in the meeting hall.
"Berta Skye-Harris," read Dyrk from his holo-clipboard. An exotic girl stepped forward; her skin was a soft, jaundiced yellow, her hair a tangle of burgundy waves. She was a few inches taller than Dyrk and smiled down at him as he handed over her Flight Ring. When the girl moved back into formation, Dyrk continued announcing names. Above in the ready room R.J. Brande listened. The names resonated in his head. Richard Kent Shakespeare. Brody Bakster. Deen Toro. Ming Sul. Drura Sehpt. As the last Flight Ring was granted, R.J. sighed.
"Mr. Brande!" shouted someone audibly enough to stir Brande's assistants into a defensive posture. The three Sci-cops in Brande's ready room had instinctively reached for their phasers and had flanked the billionaire, ready to defend him with their lives. However, it was quickly apparent that the boy hollering Brande's name was no threat; as he entered the threshold of the ready room, clearly out of breath, he raised his hands, revealing no weapons. "Mr. Brande," he repeated, this time more with relief than hysteria.
Brande cleared his throat. "At ease, gentlemen," he said to his assistants, "this here's a friend." The Sci-cops lowered their weapons, almost disappointedly, and turned back to whatever it was they'd been doing a minute before. "Rond Vidar," Brande said firmly. The kid couldn't have been a day older than thirteen, his black stringy hair parted neatly down the center, his skin pale and abundant with blemishes. His horn-rimmed glasses were slightly askew, and Brande noticed a small patch of adhesive on the small piece just above the boy's nose. His purple velvet vest was creased and wrinkled, and the buttons were each a hole off. The sight of this kid, who, a thousand years earlier might have been labeled a nerd, made Brande chuckle.
"Mr. Brande," said the excited boy, "We've found proof that the time stream has begun to unravel. We have to act fast if we're going to rescue the Legion!" Rond sniffled back a runny nose.
Brande reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a hankie, offering it over to Rond. The kid grabbed the cloth and wholeheartedly blew his nose into it. He handed it back to Mr. Brande. "Hang on to it, lad," laughed Brande. "Now what's this proof, and what do we need to do?"