In his office, Chief Anderson watched the images on one of the many video
screens.  It was a computerized breakdown of the new transporter system and
the tests they had been running on it, but so far there didn't seem to be
any weak spots or malfunctions.  7-Zark-7 appeared on another screen.
	"I simply can't understand it," he sighed.  "I've checked out that entire
system from stem to stern and there doesn't seem to be anything mechanically
wrong with it."
	"That doesn't explain what happened to Jason," was the curt reply.
"Something happened to him in there and now he's acting like a refugee from
a Clint Eastwood movie."
	"Well, my calculations indicate that the only possible area for error is
the effect of the matter-shifting energy on the human brain cell."
	"In other words, the action of transporting caused a personality shift."
	"Or as you scientists would say, he scrambled his egg - heeheehee.  Er -
that was just a little humour, Chief."
	"EXTREMELY little, Zark.  Continue your tests and monitor Jason at all times."
	"That won't be easy, you know.  Every time I contact him on a vid screen,
he throws something at it.  Just now, it was his fist."
	The Chief sighed.  "Get maintenance on that at once.  And don't let Jason
out of your sight:  follow him yourself, if you have to."
	The communication ended abruptly and Anderson went back to trying to work
out the puzzle.  He tried contacting Jason on his bracelet but there was no
response.  He then contacted Princess and summoned her to the office.
	"Yes, Chief?"
	"I need your help with this.  So far Jason's resisted all attempts to
determine the extent of the damage to his system.  You've always been closer
to him than the others; try to find out what happened, and see if you can't
talk him into co-operating."
	"But can't you get the security guards to bring him in?"
	"We're already low on manpower, I can't afford to have any more in
sickbay.  Force doesn't work, but perhaps you could persuade him."
	"Is that a request or an order?"
	"Let's consider it a request."
	"And if I refuse?"
	"Then it's an order."
	She sighed gloomily.  "Okay, Chief.  My will's in the top drawer of my desk."
	Joe completed his exploration of Centre Neptune and returned to what
they'd said were his quarters on base, where he tried again to fit the
pieces together.  It was like being in the middle of a very bad parody of
Gatchaman - rather like  some fanzines he'd seen.  What had happened was
obviously tied into this transporter they kept talking about.  It seemed the
best place to start.
	Princess knocked at the door, and upon hearing his gruff "Yes?" timidly
poked her head inside.  "Hi.  I, um, was wondering - how are you feeling?"
	Joe looked at her, dismissed her as any threat, and decide to play it
cagey.  "I don't know.  How am I supposed to feel?"
	"You certainly weren't yourself earlier."
	"I'll say I wasn't," he thought  "I suppose not.  Tell me something..."
	"If I can."
	"Just what happened?"
	"That's what they're trying to find out now.  Tell me what you remember."
	"I don't."
	"What?"
	"I mean I keep getting called by a name that's not mine, I don't remember
half the rooms here, all the names are different, and who's that crummy
robot that keeps popping up everywhere?"
	"You mean Zark?"
	"Whatever.  Look, my name's Joe Asakura, I work for ISO with Gatchaman,
and we're stationed at Fort Phoenix.  Now what's your side of it?"
	Princess was momentarily stunned by the onslaught.  Then she began
timidly, "Well, your name is...I mean, we've always known you as Jason,
we've always been G-Force, and we've always been here at Centre Neptune.
Look, why don't we go and get you checked out with the medical department?
I'm sure they..."
	"Never mind them - what about this transporter?"
	"They're still running tests on that as well."
	"Then let's check it out, too."
	"Oh, I...I don't think we..."
	But he was already pulling her along by the hand. "Come on.  Maybe I can
help them."  He half-dragged, half-coaxed her along until they reached the
room where the equipment was kept.  It was now surrounded by security
guards, who said, "Hey, you can't..." just before they were bowled over by Joe.
	Inside, 7-Zark-7 (unably assisted by 1-Rover-1) and several technicians
were still running tests on the transport ray section.
	"Princess!  This is a surprise.  What brings you here?"
	She pointed at Joe. "He wants to help."
	"Oh, my...are you sure you're up to it?  That was a terrible shock you
had.  You haven't been yourself at all."
	1-Rover-1 had come over to where they were standing and started nudging at Joe.
	"What the #%&@?!"
	Princess cringed.  "He just wants to play, that's all.  Here, boy, fetch!"
        She picked up a screwdriver and flung it across the room, Joe
watching in disbelief.  But when the blasted thing started spinning its tail
and flew
over to retrieve it, Joe was for once speechless.
	"Now that's quite enough, 1-Rover-1," scolded Zark.  "We're not here to
play, you know.  This is serious business!"
	Princess said, "Ja - uh, I mean, Joe, maybe we should go back?"
	Zark chimed in, "Perhaps we can run those tests on you now.  They won't
take long."
	Before Joe could refuse, 1-Rover-1 (having failed to get his attention)
gave him a short nip on the leg.  Joe bellowed in rage and booted the thing
through the wall.  The guards, who were coming in to see what the noise was,
were knocked down again by the Condor's exit.
	"And he was doing so well," lamented Princess.
	All Zark could say was, "Oh, my."
	To complicate matters, the battle alarm sounded just then, and G-Force
raced to Anderson's office.  They found Joe already there, engaged in hot
dispute.
	"I feel fine," he insisted.  "And a good fight will make me feel even better."
	"Are you sure you're up to it, though?"
	"Chief!"  Mark was horrified. "You don't mean he's coming too?"
	"Why not?" smiled Joe.  "Someone's got to be in charge."
	"Huh?"
	"That's enough," Anderson interjected.  "This will let us check his
reflexes in action."  He continued to brief them, with Joe listening
closely.  Except for the names, everything sounded pretty much like it
usually was, with one notable exception...
	"Outer space?  Since when?" asked Joe, as the Phoenix shot through the galaxy.
	"For the last several decades," replied Mark.  "Of course, you wouldn't
remember the first Intergalactic Federation..."
	"I sure don't.. So where are we headed, exactly?"
	"Planet Riga, our closest ally.  Planet Spectra has been trying to take it
over for years.."
	They landed on what looked, felt, and smelled like any city on Earth.
Mark, Princess, Key-Op and Joe set out through the deserted streets.
	"All right, we've only got two hours to find and destroy the Spectran base."
	"Fine; what do I do with the other 110 minutes?"
	"Stop joking, Ja---OWW! Princess, what are you..."
	"His name, Mark," she muttered under her breath.  Joe took this moment to
start playing with a steel dart.
	Mark glared at him.  "Names, huh?  I can think of a few names for him."
	"But you're not allowed to say them, right, boya?"
	"Why you..."  Mark was never sure if he'd actually made contact before he
was flung into a tree.
	The noise of their fight led a team of Spectran soldiers to the area and
they marched in, weapons ready.  No sooner had G-Force and Joe noticed them 
than they sprang into action, Joe leading the way before anyone could stop
him.  He'd always made quick work of the Galactors, but these guys made it
so easy that there was no satisfaction in it.  Where he could normally clear
five Galactors at once, he cleared ten of these with no problem.  He
continued through them at a great rate until the rest of G-Force finally
gave up and just watched as he decimated the ranks.  When it was all over he
dusted his hands, gave Mark a cool look, and said, "Fine for starters.
What's next?"
	Mark found his voice and squeaked, "What are you DOING?!  You KNOW we're
not supposed to use undue force.  How am I ever going to explain all this to
the Chief?"
	"Easy," grinned Joe.  "Just tell him we won.  Anything else?"
	"The base, remember?  We've got to find it."
	"No problem:  just follow the ones who got away."  He went jumping off
along the route.  Mark rubbed his sore ribs and sighed, "I suppose we'd
better follow him."
	"Arrr-toot-toot....must we?"
	"I'm afraid so.  Problem is, where'd he go?"
	Just then the ground was rocked by a massive explosion.
	"I, uh, think he's over there," said Princess.
	Later, back at Centre Neptune, Anderson was having ten different kinds of
fits.  "How could you let him DO that?!" he stormed.
	Mark bridled.  "How was I supposed to stop him?"
	"Have you any idea what this means?  He's broken practically every  by-law
in the Jupiter Convention.  Earth stands a good chance of being barred from
the Galactic Federation.  I don't know how I'll ever explain this to the
Council!"
	Mark drooped under the tirade and sighed heavily.  "Still," he reflected,
"It IS the first time we've done better than break even!"

                        *     *     *     *     *

	"Well, what do we do with him now?" asked Ken.
	Kamo scratched his head.  "Good question.  There doesn't seem to be any
way to explain this."
	"If he is a Galactor, how did they bring him in?" asked Jun.
	"It started right after that bright light," offered Jinpei.
	"Cloaking device?  A diversion?" asked Ryu.
	Ken thought about it.  "It would have to be incredibly exact:  pinpoint
Joe and make the change.  If this isn't Joe, then Galactor must have him."
	"Poor bastards."
	"Maybe.  Problem is, I can't make any kind of contact with him."
	"And I'll tell you something more," broke in Kamo.  "We checked out that
bracelet of his.  He can change into bird style, same as Joe, but it runs on
a different energy source. And it broadcasts on a different frequency."
	Ken thought this over.  "It would seem, then, that our best move is to
infiltrate Galactor and see what we can find."
	"What do we do with this guy?"
	"Keep asking questions until we find out where he comes from."
	"He's still sticking to his transporter story..."
	"Then start him on truth serum.  We've got to have answers.  The rest of
us will check out Galactor."

                        *     *     *     *     *

	Back in his quarters, Joe continued checking out the weapons they'd said
were his.  On the surface they seemed familiar enough, but not one worked
well enough to provide any sort of protection - even a salt shaker would
have been more lethal.  His steel darts, for instance:  regular darts would
have had more effect.  He'd tried sharpening the tips, but the balance was
all wrong:  either they flew off course or they had no impact.  And his old
airgun (or what looked like it) wasn't much better.  Joe took it apart for
the tenth time, trying to figure out how to adjust it, when a smooth but
incredibly irritating voice cut in.
	"There you are, Jason!  I've nearly slipped a sprocket looking for you!
Why haven't you gone for your tests, as ordered?"
	"Because I'm not Jason and what's it to you, anyway?"
	Zark's lights blinked rapidly.  "Why, it's my job to know where you are;
I am part of security, you know, and we've been terribly worried about you.
I just know something terrible happened to you in that transporter, and
that's why you're acting like this."
	"Look, there's nothing wrong with me that getting out of here wouldn't
cure.  I don't belong here."
	"Oh, I quite agree.  And the sooner you cooperate with us, the sooner you
can rejoin G-Force."
	"If you want me to cooperate, either get me some real weapons, or %#@& off."
	The robot sighed.  "I don't understand.  You've always been difficult, but
never like this.  I'm not programmed for hostility."
	Joe picked up a screwdriver and waved it menacingly.  "Then listen:  if
you're not out of here by the time I count five, I'm going to reprogram you
with a can opener.  Do you understand THAT?"
	Zark sputtered a bit, then said huffily, "WELL.  I'm sure this is beyond
me.  I'll have to report it to Chief Anderson."  And he wheeled away in
offended silence, Joe watching coldly.
	"You," he thought, "will have to go."  He finished putting the gun back
together and aimed at a book on the shelf.  The missile knocked it over
without even denting it.  "You couldn't cut tofu with this thing," he
thought as he took it apart in disgust.  "If I could get my hands on some
spare parts, I might be able to rebuild it.  But where do I get them?
There's still the car, but..."
	"Marp!  Marp-marp-marp!"
	1-Rover-1 wandered in and sat down, looking at Joe expectantly with that
loopy look of his.  Joe cursed the interruption and went back to his work,
thinking, "Blasted robot dog..."
	...robot dog.  ROBOT dog!  Joe looked again; it was still there.  He
picked up a wrench and dangled it invitingly.
	"Here, fellow," he coaxed.  "Come on - good boy.  That's a nice, dumb, doggy!"
	A few minutes later 1-Rover-1 was in little pieces, strewn  across the
worktable.  From the components Joe chose the ones he'd need for his plans.
The secret lay in the transporter and Joe had a pretty good guess as to what
happened.  Judging by everyone's reaction, he obviously had a counterpart
who had made a test run, and somehow they'd got Joe instead.  His best bet
was to try the machine again - if he could get that pesky robot out of the
way.  And even if it didn't work, it couldn't be worse than being stuck here.
	Oddly enough, he'd always been the one who snorted in derision whenever
the topic of parallel dimensions had come up.  Dr. Nambu had strongly
believed in them.  "It's a possibility we should be prepared for," he used
to say.  "It would be me that proved him right," thought Joe wryly.  Then
hethought, "I wonder what my double's like?"

                       *     *      *     *     *

	His double, at that moment, had a potent dosage of sodium pentothal in him
and was bleakly reiterating all the information about himself that they kept
asking.
	"Honest, I know as much about this as you do," he protested to an
unconvinced Kamo.  If he hadn't been such an ineffectual wimp, the older man
might have felt sorry for him.. Instead, he desperately wished for anything
to break this impasse.
	"Look," he said finally, "All we want  is to know where Joe is and why
you're here."
	"I DON'T KNOW!!!  I keep telling you, all I know is what I said!"
	"You mean that tale about a transporter."
	"IT'S TRUE!!!  It's still at Centre Neptune!"
	"Never heard of it.  Where is it?"
	Jason gave him the coordinates, Kamo did some rapid checking, and came
back more confused than ever.
	"That's where Crescent Coral used to be, and it never had a transporter."
	"It's called Centre Neptune and it HAS got one, I was just there!  You can
ask Chief Anderson."
	"You mean President Anderson, and he's been dead for several months.," was
the reply.
	Jason looked startled.  "Dead?   He can't be, I just saw him..."
	He picked up a photo from the stack.  "How can he be dead?"
	Kamo looked at it, then pulled out another.   "THIS is President Anderson.
That," tapping the one Jason held, "is Doctor Nambu."
	"(moan)"
	"But he was killed a week ago."
	"(MOAN)"
	The coordinator checked his watch; it was too soon to administer another dose.
	"I'm going to leave you alone for a while.  The sooner you cooperate, the
sooner you can get out of here."
	Jason sank back into the couch, hurt, confused, and very unhappy.  It was
all so different: the places were different, the names were different, the
weapons...there was no Chief, no Ready Room, no Zark...
	No Zark.  For the first time since his ordeal started, Jason smiled.

                               *       *        *