10th January
17:57 GMT
"A
AAAAAAGH!"
M'gann falls to the ground clutching her head. T'ronn remains upright but doubles over, arms clutching at his chest. And the rest…
There's a shimmer around their bodies, similar to what the Burner used. But like that shit Karmang said, they're not immune. They're being affected.
Their flesh is breaking down exothermically.
They're being burned alive by their own bodies. Even the guards-. Their armour is evaporating off their bodies and their bodies are locked in place. For any of them who still have Guardian programming,
fire is their greatest fear.
And they can't get away from it.
Mother Box, purple ray drones
here now!
Ping.
AND SEND A FUCKING BOMB TO Z'ONN Z'ORR! ONE OF THOSE REALLY EVIL ONES I COPIED FROM DESAAD!
Ping.
Oh, I think it
is!
Fuck, what do I do? All of the-. No, not all: J'emm is
shuddering, but something he's doing is keeping the flames at bay. Don't know how to help. Try and put one out. Sinestro,
feel free to call out suggestions at any time.
Noted. But I'm afraid, Lantern Grayven, that-
I
project yellow light over the closest guard, trying to work out whether it's possible to stabilise-
-I don't believe that there's anything you can do.
-their bodies. Their disruption effect simply shreds
my initial probe but with all of this
fear around I've got strength to spare. My next attempt takes the form of a
medical sarcophagus-
Boom!
-and I frantically
reduce the temperature and
jab a neural probe into the guard's head to see if I can work out which bit of his brain is
doing this! The first purple ray drones fly through the boom tube, purple beams striking burning martians to no apparent effect.
Patterns of activity are all over the place, I don't know! Amateurs shouldn't attempt brain chirurgery! Suppress everything somewhat? Sure,
let's try that.
He's still burning.
I can… Feel it as the drones start giving individual martians up as lost causes. As the grim calculus of survivability indicates to their control programming that even if they can help some they can't help these.
By some
Herculean feat of will, one of the still-burning Sorcerer Priests staggers out of his seat. Okay,
scan.
What's different about that guy?
Nothing obvious, Lantern Grayven. The patterns of activity in her mind appear to be a little less erratic, but I imagine that is due to the mental exercises that she performs as part of her vocation.
Right,
replicate-.
He's dead, Lantern.
I exhale sharply as I dismiss the construc-.
I look at M'gann. No, she's-.
Scan. She
looks fine, but-.
She's a telepath who was listening to the dying thoughts of dozens of people burning to death. I'm impressed that she's even vaguely functional. Her brother is in much the same state.
More and more… Martians are falling recumbent, probably dead. Only a handful-.
The sorcerer falls, dragging herself towards-. She's going towards J'emm, who
is just now catching fire himself. Ah, she's going to die anyway. I
grab the crawling sorcerer and
put her down next to J'emm. I think she.. recognises or.. something, because she immediately starts using her burning limbs to make gestures. As they.. burn down, she-. She's
using mass from the rest of her body to allow her to keep casting.
An admirable courage.
Wait, cold guns! Those can-!
Stabilise molecular vibrations at the cost of heat. Using enough power to stop whatever this is would freeze the martian you used it upon solid.
J'emm staggers as the tufts of flame beginning to flare from his body suddenly go out while the sorcerer next
to him… Succumbs to her wounds, the hard edges of bones…
Bones visible as…
I look down at my own blood as it pools on the floor.
Oh. That, that explains…
I
sit with some force, the pain I'm in starting to seep into my awareness. Nothing… Life-threatening… I think. Mars isn't as bad for magic as the Vega Systems are. So as long as-.
A squad of Manhunters swoop in, weapons seeking a target! I'm clearly bleeding and appear to be non-threatening, the drones are shutting down as… As those to whom they are attempting to minister finally expire. T'ronn's anguish-pose appears to be marking him as a non-threat, but M'gann is becoming alert and-.
"Stop!" J'emm pulls himself up, using the pulpit to support himself. "It was Karmang. Karmang…" He loses his grip, but one of the Manhunters stows his weapon and flies forward to help him up.
A couple of drones remember who made them and begin playing their healing light over me. Won't do much for the blood I've already lost, but it should accelerate the rate at which my wounds close up. M'gann looks at me but I wave her off and she goes to check on T'ronn instead. He's… Gradually coming around, though if his body language is exaggerated enough that
I can spot it he must be in a bad way.
"Why-?" M'gann looks at me. "Why did he do it? We were-. They were
listening. Peace could…"
"H
rgh." Ah, throat. Hadn't.. specifically noticed.
Construct. "Hate doesn't need a reason. Just a tar…" Ugh. "Target. Karmang blamed them, or… Their forebears. Or… He might… Might genuinely believe… This was the best way."
"He was… He was always planning on attacking them. He just… He just used us as a way in."
I nod, once. "Probably."
J'emm is helped to ground level, the Manhunter's right arm under his arms. "Was..
anyone else affected?"
There's no sound for a moment. Telepathic conference, no reason for the Manhunters to speak out loud for
my benefit.
Mother Box, outcome of bomb attack on Z'onn Z'orr?
Ping.
I'll get Circe to check later. Where
is she?
Ping.
Hah. Heh. Hah. Yes, I suppose she does need to sleep
sometime.
I look over to where J'emm and R'oh K'arr are looking at each other, probably having an impassioned argument about what to do
next. Shit, what a mess. J'emm is now -in effect- planetary overlord and the Hyperclan might well be making attacks all over the place now. I'm not really in any condition to help-
-but I suppose that's no reason not to
try. Ugh.
Support The Ally.
Mother Box, tell Mortalla to evacuate the children at once, then keep all tubes available. This is going to be a long day.