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[Archive] With This Ring (Young Justice SI) (Story Only)

Reader mode
21st January
19:57 GMT

We watch as a squad of thanagarians sanitise the scene under Andar Pul's direction. The bodies are wrapped up for transportation, and a short-lived carnivorous bacterium is being sprayed on the blood and flayed meat. Though they did pick up the faces the Man-Hawks had been wearing for identification purposes. They appear to be used to this sort of work, which raises new concerns for me.

"Kara, why were you even out here?"

She squirms a little, clearly still quite uncomfortable with what happened. Okay, she lived through General Zod's attempted putsch and Kru-El's killing spree, but there's a difference between what she'd have seen and seeing death up close.

"When I.. was.. little, Uncle Jor took me on a trip to one of the pre-isolationism alien ghettos on Krypton. It was.. decayed, and.. empty, obviously. There were recordings, but that's not the same as seeing a living community."

"We have perfectly good slums on Earth."

"But not species segregation. I don't think it's.. the same."

Bleez make a gesture of disagreement with her right arm. "Plenty of thanagarians live down here. And there are some aliens who get to live upside. Were there aliens who lived outside of Krypton's ghettos?"

"Not legally. There were.. stories of humanoid aliens who looked kryptonian enough to pass themselves off as one of us, but I doubt it actually happened."

Hector turns his head my way. "You're not curious why I came down here?"

No, because while I know why both of you came down here Kara needs to talk and you don't. "Missing the superhero life?"

"Kind of. Without modern communications, it was a lot harder to make a big impact back in my day. I sometimes wonder what Infinity Inc. could have done if we'd had… If everyone in our day had cell phones and we have the kind of transport infrastructure the Justice League does."

Honestly? Quite a lot. They weren't exactly lightweights. I don't think any of them could quite compete with Kal-El's power, J'onn J'onzz's versatility or Batman's intellect, but aside from that they're League-level. Certainly at the level of a League which contains Mr Queen. And when you hit middle age, I imagine that being outshone by pointy-stick-launcher-man just makes the crisis all the worse.

"Thanagar… Probably isn't the best place to get back into the habit."

"Hey, we just went for a fly. The locals started that."

"Do you know how much the Nth metal in your armour would be worth to these people? People who have to steal electricity to get light?"

"Yeah…" He looks away. "Yeah, I guess I coulda.. thought the whole thing through better."

Mr Pul watches as the last Man-Hawk corpse is teleported away then walks in our-. In my direction.

"Mr Pul. Or do you have another title?"

"Several. But that one will do. I work for Imperial Intelligence. And you just blundered into one of my operations."

Whatever protected the Man-Hawks isn't protecting him. I can see his mental networks quite clearly, though I will credit him with good self-discipline. It's not totally clear which of his desires he's fulfilling at the moment, thought I can tell that he's loyal to Thanagar and to himself in roughly equal measure.

"I'd say that your operation blundered into us. I was just trying to pay off a gang and leave."

"You claim you did nothing to draw them to you?"

I glance at Kara and Hector. Kara shakes her head with a shudder, while Hector shrugs. "Not knowingly."

He nods. "Lantern, you detected the presence of magic in their remains."

"Yes. But not plant-magic, so don't try and tell me-."

"Of course not. We may not be specialists in the field, but Imperial Intelligence is competent enough to recognise one of the primary assets of our greatest enemy. These are something else. And now we're further away from identifying exactly what that is."

"Your soldiers were the ones finishing them off. Given how dangerous the Man-Hawks are I wasn't going to fault them, but if you're trying to find something to blame me for…"

"I have a problem. And regrettable as I find it, I suspect that I'll find working with you easier than working around you."

"Depends what the problem is. But I'm being honest when I say that I'm perfectly happy to take no further action. Thanagar isn't my beat." Because distasteful as I find this place, it's not as if Earth doesn't have slums inhabited by armed gangs. The only 'special' attribute is the arcane angle. "But if you're including me, the more you tell me? The more I can help."

"Yes. That was the opinion of our agents as well. Your…" He looks at Hector, Kara and Bleez. "Colleagues? Do you intend for them to join you?"

Getting.. Bleez involved seems like a pretty good way to put her on the xenomusik list. And… Useful as Kara might be, I doubt that an investigation will call for much higher maths. On the other hand, Hector seems all for it.

"I doubt that our guide-" I incline my head towards Bleez. "-will have much to-."

"The fact that Princess Bleez enjoys spending time in disreputable company is not news to Imperial Intelligence." He gives me a look. "You were seen conversing with her before leaving the reception together, and our files suggest that you are loyal to your mate."

I smile. "Thank you. Bleez… Up to you, but you might be better off keeping yourself ignorant."

"And I might be better off not being disappeared by Imperial Intelligence." Ah. Mr Pul doesn't appear fazed by the accusation. "But I might need you to fly me home afterwards."

"Very well, and of course. Kara, Silver Scarab, under the circumstances it might be better if you both accompanied us."

They nod, Kara doing so with clenched fists.

"All in, Mister Pul. What's going on?"

"We're not.. sure. Certain subversive groups have begun using Nth metal weapons in greater numbers than before, not including those… Creatures. Given that you have demonstrated the ability to transmute base metals to Nth metal by the use of magic, we know that it is plausible they are doing the same."

"Or they've found a deposit you don't know about. Or they've been grabbing it from-."

"We keep track of our Nth metal reserves rather carefully, and we have complete geophysics scans of all of our colonies. The quantities they're getting aren't coming from conventional sources. Is there anything you'd like to admit to?"

"I don't know how important you think you are to me? But I've got better things to do with my time than foment rebellion here. And if for some reason I did want to, I have power rings."

"Merely sharing your knowledge of transmutation would be enough, and give you plausible deniability."

"I don't know how to transmute it. And.. anyway, that wasn't magic. I lost a lot of the knowledge I gained from bonding with the Ophidian when we separated, but I do remember that we were altering it physically. And we nearly took out a mountain doing it."

Bleez turns her head my way. "Thanagar has that technology."

"Well there you go-."

Mr Pul makes a negative gesture with his wings. "Such a forge would be impossible to disguise. If it existed, we would have found it."

"Alright. How about we go somewhere a little more civilised and you fully brief us?"
 
21st January
20:42 GMT

"It's been less than a day."

I smile at Ms Thal as the thanagarian part of the party files into the Vengeance of Kalmoran's briefing room, joining those of us who journeyed downside as well as Mr Cantrell and Ms Parker whose tour was rudely interrupted.

"I am an innocent victim of circumstance." She glares. "This time."

Mr Pul makes a gesture of affirmation. "Suspicious though it is, his claim has been corroborated by the surviving witnesses."

Being a thanagarian briefing room, there aren't any seats. Instead, we're standing around a holopit as Mr Andar calls up a cut-away image of a Man-Hawk.

"As Silver Scarab observed during his impromptu field investigation, Man-Hawks have Nth metal laced bones and enhanced synaptic Nth metal deposits. Our studies of their brains suggest -and as we've never been able to interrogate or fully test one, I stress suggest- that they also have enhanced senses, proprioception and reflexes. However, in addition to their lack of arms several parts of their brains which should be responsible for higher reasoning are atrophied or shrunk."

Kara frowns. "Should be? Just because they use tools, that doesn't mean they're not sub-sophont."

Mr Hol's gaze is steady as he regards the hologram. "Sir? Have we determined their point of origin?"

"Oh come on, Mister Hol. I understand following the party line in public, but do you seriously believe that they're aliens?"

Mr Cantrell nods. "Given the physical similarities, I had been wondering if they were some sort of evolutionary throwback. But that wouldn't explain them having fewer limbs."

Ms Parker takes a step closer, her eyes slightly unfocused. The image clearly means something to her. Probably something other than a reference to Ancient Kahndaqi mythology.

Mr Pul gestures, and the Man-Hawk image is shrunk and paired with that of a thanagarian. "Though their genetics appear to.. resist analysis, studying their bodies eventually revealed that several of the Man-Hawks we examined have signs of old injuries which matched those suffered by people on the missing persons list. Our initial supposition was that someone was performing biological experiments. However, now that Orange Lantern has confirmed that they were altered by magic-."

"No, the stone detects magic. I can't tell you whether or not magic is the underlying cause."

"But you could identify the same magic again?"

"I could identify similar magic again. You'd need an actual practitioner to be sure."

Well, an actual practitioner and some of Sephtian's analytical equipment, but a practitioner could be ninety-plus percent sure.

Hector gestures at the holograms. "Why haven't you warned people about this? Or at the very least, put a garrison in your undercity?!"

"My job is to investigate threats to the state. And until recently, the Man-Hawks were sufficiently few in number that they did not meet that definition."

"The police-!"

"The police patrol downside, but have suffered an increasing level of disappearances themselves." Breath hisses through Mr Hol's teeth in response to Mr Pul's statement. Those were his colleagues. "I will be clear: the recent increase in Man-Hawk numbers, their recent brazen activity, is anomalous. And I am dealing with it." A slight -and probably staged- ruffling of his wings. "But learning who is producing them is more important in the long term than killing the ones which presently exist. A single undetected individual could travel freely and spread this menace to all parts of the Empire. And that is not something I will allow."

"You know, I'm.. pretty sure that Hyathis would-" The thanagarians present glare at me. "-lend you a few druids if you asked."

Mr Pul shuts off the hologram. "And infect us with something else." He sweeps his left wing. "And even if she would help, we would never offer her what she would demand in return. And she would not believe it if we did."

Lantern Dul glances at me, then returns her attention to Mr Pul. "It should be perfectly possible for the two of us to scan the entire Empire for these creatures in a matter of days."

"You haven't had the pleasure of running into anti-detection wards yet, have you?" She returns her attention to me. "Oh, sure, we could do it, but forget days. If the one doing this is even vaguely competent we'd be looking at months for Thanagar alone. Assuming whoever's doing this felt a desperate need to stay in one place."

"Sharon?"

Mr Cantrell lays his right hand on Ms Parker's left shoulder as she continues to stare at the holopit.

"Though it is true that Thasaro tests those who gives themselves to him,
And true that they are made stronger by it,
His joy is not in those who stand,
But in those who fall."

That's an odd.. phrasing. Ring, analyse rhyme structure of the original language.

Original language is a now-extinct thanagarian language. Verse employed a traditional rhyme structure appropriate to the language's height.

"To move closer to Thasaro by your own wing and will is to flee yourself,
To move further into the mountain-storms by his side,
And he will watch and laugh,
At all those who fall."

Our party's thanagarians are staring at her-.

"Everyone understood that, rig-?"

Mr Hol nods at me, while Mr Cantrell puts his right arm around Ms Parker's side in an attempt to reassure her in the face of something that is clearly disturbing her. Mr Pul looks at her curiously-. Oh, that's why Ambassador Klus was asking me about them. Given what's been happening on Earth recently, I suppose that it only makes sense that they'd be interested in trying to get some sort of superbeing on their side. It's a shame that none of their other religious practices survived into the present day.

"Sharon Parker, do you recognise what has been done to them?"

"Chay-ara." There's a slight.. shift in her posture. She's-. Taking into account the lack of muscular connections to her wings… That's thanagarian body language. "I think you should start calling me Chay-ara now. And yes, I remember them."

"Chay-ara, what is it? You've never mentioned-."

"It was either brain damage from the crash or I just repressed it really hard. But seeing them… These things were living memory in my time. The last hold-outs from the time of the Seven Devils." Her shoulders move as she tries to rustle her wings. "I can barely believe that they still exist. We were trying to exterminate them."

"How are they created?"

"I don't know exactly, but it isn't complicated. A few prayers and an Nth metal knife if that's what you're actually trying to do. Usually Thasaro's followers were trying not to change, just to make themselves stronger. But in the end, that happened to all of them. Thasaro laughs at mortals."

Ms Thal gazes at her for a moment, taking in the alterations in her posture. "Do you know where they make them?"

"I know some places. We destroyed as many as we could, but some of them were built as fortresses."

Mr Pul looks mildly pleased. "Excellent news. Give us the co-ordinates and I'll assign ships at once."
 
21st January
21:06 GMT -5

"…next guest doesn't need any introduction-"

But you're going to introduce-.

"-but I'll introduce him anyway."

Hah! I actually smile as Jack Ryder mugs for the audience. The stands are packed with a cross-section of America and a few of my family. Lynne and Hybrid-lad-whose-name-I-can't-think are here so they can write an essay on it for their civics classes. Better this than one of those idiotically jingoistic 'explain-how-America-is-the-best-country-in-the-world' things. I invited Scott and Barda, but they felt that showing me support would risk the League's apolitical stance during national elections.

Well. Scott did. I somehow doubt that Barda would have done anything to support my position.

"From the Planet of Ultimate Tyranny to the Land of the Free: show a warm welcome for Grayven!"

I stroll onto the stage as the-. Hah! As a couple of technicians wheel what looks suspiciously like a Throne of Doom onto the stage next to the host. I did warn them that I'd flatten their regular guest chairs, but I'm surprised that they went to this sort of length. I wave to the audience as they applaud, then wait until the crew have the chair positioned to their liking and give them a polite nod in thanks before sitting down upon it.

Not exactly comfortable, but I suppose that it'll do.

"Grayven, thank you for coming on."

"Not a problem, Jack. Glad to be here."

"We've got a lot to talk about this evening, but before we start, I.. ah… I've got to do another one of these tomorrow night, so I can't really afford to get shipped off to the other side of the universe..?"

"Oh, don't worry." I shake my head as the audience titters. "Tricks like that lose their impact if you keep repeating yourself."

"Well… Okay then." He leans back. "I guess I'll look forward to whatever you've got planned?"

I pantomime an expression of complete innocence, and get a small laugh from the crowd.

"So as I'm sure that you've noticed, we've got an election coming up. And as everyone knows, you're pretty tight with the incumbent."

"I've…" I nod. "Worked productively with President Horne on a few issues. Speaking as an Apokoliptian, I find this whole… Four to eight years thing a bit strange."

"Oh, come on. You saved the man's life, he gave you a Presidential Medal of Freedom, and-."

"With distinction." I point to the ribbon.

"And you've basically become Secretary of State for Metahumans."

"That's.. overstating things somewhat. Yes, I was consulted on policy, as were a number of other specialists. And I've participated in a number of missions, some under the auspices of the Department of Metahuman Affairs. But I'm just an agent, certainly not a Secretary of State."

He frowns. "Are you.. backing away from President Horne?"

"No, it's…" I sigh. "I like Jon, but when you get right down to it… I'm a foreign citizen. More to the point, I'm a foreign citizen of a place that's hostile to the United States, even though I.. obviously disagree with that policy. I feel-. I don't think it's appropriate for me to have… Undue influence on your domestic politics. I have a good working and personal relationship with President Horne, I like to think that together we've done a lot of good for the country, and for the Earth. But if the American people choose to elect someone else, whether it be Senator Bishop or a.. third party candidate, I would endeavour to form a similar relationship with them. Ultimately, it's not about-."

"Senator Bishop?"

I blink. "The Repub-?"

"I think you mean Senator Knight."

"Oh…" I wave my right hand in his direction. "Sorry, yes, that's his.. name, isn't it?" I shrug in mock embarrassment. "Sorry, I was.. playing chess with my son earlier today-" And I was, too. "-and I-. Yeah."

"Right…"

Okay, it was a clumsy jab, but even if it doesn't make Knight look silly it at least makes me look a little more human.

"Ah… Sorry, as I was saying. It's not about personality, it's about the task, the.. job of making American laws relating to metahumans a little more sensible. With the passage of the Destructive Persons Act, the lion's share of the job is done. Implementation does not require constant presidential involvement. It might actually be detrimental for it to be a partisan issue."

"So the President's leaving you out in the cold?"

"The President has a country to govern. And as much as I admire his patience in talking people into putting his legislation into practice sensibly, it's not something with which I can really help. And… There's probably a limit to how much help is really appropriate. He.. knows where I am if he needs me, and that I'm happy to butt out when he doesn't."

"Okay, so, this new federal agency is going to train and regulate superheroes. W-?"

"Not-. Sort of. It trains metahuman agents. In a.. few years, they might be training magic using agents. Superheroes-. I'm a superhero, so this isn't intended as a slight against people who risk life and limb for the greater good. That whole.. go get 'em attitude is one of the things I find most fascinating about this country. But… There's a reason why police forces exist. Top calibre superheroes like members of the Justice League are.. not exactly the rule. Information sharing is generally poor quality, training is patchy and that's not even getting into the lack of accountability-. A lot of the time there really isn't a difference between a masked vigilante and the street thugs they claim to be fighting. I've seen the figures on assaults and… In some cases murders."

"Little bit of hypocrisy sneaking in there, huh?"

"Probably. But I wouldn't have done that to someone the conventional authorities could handle. Political recognition of that fact is why I was pardoned. After the second Belle Reve breakout I didn't kill anyone because I knew that the situation could be brought back under control. And in any case, there wasn't any doubt about Klarion's guilt. A lot of the people that get targeted by vigilante campaigns haven't.. done much, if anything. Certainly nothing which justifies hospitalising them with life-changing injuries. America's security services are required by law to behave and investigate in certain ways, and I think that's a good thing. The fact that organisations like those, which are largely competent, incorrupt and law-abiding, can exist is a sign of the strength of America's social conventions and contract. Vigilantes… Where they can be said to have legitimacy, is when they are symptomatic of an underlying problem. If Gotham hadn't been hilariously corrupt and dysfunctional for years, no Batman."

"And what about Superman?"

"Organisations are designed to standardise processes, so that they can be performed reasonably well by as many different people as possible. What kind of police force could come up with procedures for the only kryptonian on the planet? And if they could, would limiting him to a single city really be the best use of his talents?" I shake my head. "With people that powerful, the sensible thing to do is give them a few restrictions, some oversight, and then let them get on with it."

"I thought the President didn't want to conscript Superman."

"The fact that Superman is a good guy, and has proven that in over a decade's good service to the nation and the planet, does not guarantee that the next person in his weight class will be as well. If people could be relied upon to treat one another well, we wouldn't need a police force. The balance President Horne has to strike is between supporting those who are fine acting on their own recognisance and guiding those who -though well-intentioned- aren't. And so far, the implementation appears to be going reasonably well. Not.. perfectly, but that's to be expected with any major piece of legislation and that's why he's still working on that aspect."

"What do you think about how China handles it?"

As if Jean didn't prepare me for questions about that.

"It's excessively interfering. Their natural tendency to regiment anything related to security is causing far more harm than good. Conscripting every metahuman in the country is extremely wasteful, and I'm glad that they're starting to recognise that fact. On the other hand, it's unrealistic to expect that to produce the sort of independent superheroes the US has."

"Their department of defense claims that they can field 'an army-group worth of superheroes'."

"That's… Technically true, if you count someone whose power is to turn leaves from green to blue and who had two months' military training a decade ago as a 'superhero'. The Standing Committee on Metahuman Affairs has a lot of people on its books who have no business being there but who can be recalled to active service at five minutes' notice. It's a foolish system because the people involved would be no use to them."

"Have you studied the Chinese system?"

"Yes, and I've tried to help them modify the way they do things as well. At present, however, I consider it a good example of how not to do things in this country."
 
22nd January
01:21 GMT

The officer in charge of the light carrier giving us a ride looks around as I stroll onto the bridge before returning his attention to the hologram the newly rechristened Chay'ara is gesturing to.

"…and here, though we may need dedicated mining equipment to break through. We deliberately collapsed a mountain over it."

"If it's that resilient, we could always just shoot our way through."

"Or you could ask me?" Ring, scan the rubble down there? Ah, a hill. Looks completely natural to me, but I suppose that after all this time it would. "Heavy lifting is why I'm here, isn't it?"

The officer's eyes shift to me again. "This is a Thanagarian matter. We'll involve aliens if we need to."

"Okay, I offered." I stroll a little closer-. Ah, yes, the ring's giving me confused returns about what's inside the hill. "Does anything down there suggest that the site has seen any recent use?"

The officer presses a button on his control panel, and the display shows a group of dots fly towards the planet. "We will know in a few minutes."

Of course, I could just teleport down… But… Yeah, this is a Thanagarian matter. They aren't Earth; they're technologically developed enough to deal with this themselves. Unless one of the Seven Devils turns up in person I don't need to involve myself directly.

"Chay-ara, what can you tell us about what other resources these people might have?"

"In my first life, they would have legions of soldiers armed as we were, hierophants empowered by a sliver of their might, automata and.. other things. Like these Man-Hawks."

"When you say 'automata', do you-?"

"Statues granted animation by magic or animated by their will. It.. sickens me to think about it."

"Why?"

"We were their tools. As far as they were concerned, we existed only to glorify them. The.. ship.. that brought me to Earth? Only a handful of devout hierophants were allowed the knowledge of how such things operated. The Man-Hawks are the most obviously altered, but if the lizarkons have no Nth metal in their bodies I doubt that our own strength was a product of natural evolution."

I look at her for a moment. "Their bodies, Sharon Parker."

She glares at me, then appears to snap out of it. "Yess, yes, I-." She takes a moment to order her thoughts. "I'm sorry, this whole situation-. This battle was Chay-ara's life. All of her memories are coming back at once. I think I'm even getting phantom pains from her wings."

"These creatures once ruled us? Altered us?" The officer bares his teeth in a sign of absolute distaste. "Disgusting."

"Is it? Your people do use cybernetics, and-."

"How would it be amongst your people if monsters altered you to turn you into their playthings?"

I shrug. "We'd do as your forebears did: rise up, cast them down and take everything they ever owned for ourselves."

"The gladness I feel at the knowledge that I am descended from such people only just barely counterbalances how repugnant I find what came before. You speak as if we were similar, but when have your people endured such horror?"

"Ah..? Vampires and werewolves?" I shrug. "They've been around for centuries. Possibly longer. More recently, we've had Devil Jizz users, and magicians have been making pacts with demons for as long as we've got records."

"Vam.. pires? What are those?"

"Humans who gain massively increased strength, endurance and regeneration in exchange for being burned by the sun and needing to drink blood. Older vampires gain hypnotism, shapeshifting and the ability to control the weather."

"Who do they serve?"

"No idea. The few I've met usually don't serve anyone, or if they do it's the Elder who changed them. Werewolves get increased strength, endurance and regeneration but become mindlessly bestial during some parts of the lunar cycle. Jizzers get random powers and mutations, demon pacts can grant just about anything…" He looks askance at me. "Working on Earth is great preparation for the rest of the universe: you'll never encounter anything you haven't seen before. Though the place itself is a bit-"

The hologram shifts as data begins coming in from the attack ships.

"-mental."

Both Ms Parker and the officer give it their full attention at once, studying the changes brought by each update.

"No defences." The officer gives his wings a small ruffle. "I will have them deploy a beacon so that we can teleport down a team of engineers."

"Let me know if you need me." I raise my right hand to my forehead and-

-step out and back-

-next to Bleez. Her eyes are on me the moment I reappear, then she returns her attention to the monitor she's reading from.

"They're sending down a team, but it doesn't look like anyone's here."

"What do you know about Nth metal synthesis?"

"I really don't remember how I did it." I shrug. "Lead, massive amounts of power and a whole lot of mental processing to keep the… Stuff I was working on from going critical or forming…" I frown. "Wrong, I think."

"Do you know how much Nth metal the Thanagarian Empire uses each day?"

"No?" I know that it's in virtually all of their advanced technology, but I've got no idea what their daily usage is like. "Lots, probably?"

"I like being a singer, but Mother had me educated 'as befits my station'." She grimaces prettily. "I know economics. And I know how much Nth metal our transmutation factories create and how much power it takes to make them work."

"Something.. not lining up?"

"No, the numbers make sense. At the moment. But mine productivity is decreasing. And the fleet is growing."

"I imagine me telling them that I couldn't remember how I made Nth metal out of lead was a bit of a disappointment."

"The Thanagarian Empire doesn't have any friends. All of the people who live around our borders are worried about which of them will be conquered during our next expansion. If anyone finds out that our fleets can't be replaced-."

"I'm not really seeing a problem. The Thanagarian navy is easily big enough to fight off any invasion force anyone else around here could muster. All that happens in the medium term is that Nth metal gets a little more expensive, and.. frankly, I don't really want the Empire expanding any more, not without substantial internal reform."

"Yes, I know what we're like! I don't want us 'expanding' either. But what do you think the High Mor will do if he starts getting worried about Thanagar's strength diminishing?"

"Hopefully, adjust his policies to adapt to the new reality. But, in reality… Try to come to terms with people who should never be dealt with." I smile wryly. "I might get to fight one of the Seven Devils after all."
 
22nd January
03:28 GMT

I slow as Bleez follows me towards the airlock. "How.. serious were you about needing my protection?"

"Kinda serious? Like, Andar seems like the sort of guy who'd make someone disappear? But I don't think he cares enough about me to put any real effort into it, so once I'm out of the way I'm probably fine."

"Um. Okay, but why are you following me?"

"'Out of the way', like, 'not on a ship full of people who report directly to him'."

Ah. And the large zeta tube on Earth is down for testing, so I can't just ship her back… "I could just take you hom-."

"Oh no."

"I can't honestly believe that your mother is more fearsome than cultists, mutants, mutant cultists and manifested demons."

"There isn't gunna be anything like that down there. C'mon, even if there are ruins, they'd have to be idiots to perch there."

I actually start laughing.

"What?"

"Bleez, I know a man who invented a gun which reduces anything it shoots to zero degrees Kelvin, and who uses it to rob museums. When it comes to supervillainy, there is literally no level of stupid that would surprise me. I'm fully expecting us to walk in on the whole cult mid-ritual."

"They'd have to be kind of dumb-. Oh."

"Yeah."

I extend my environmental shield to cover her as we step into the airlock and I trigger it to cycle. This class of warship generally leaves its fighters out in the vacuum, Thanagar having found that while it makes sense to have permeable force fields on larger ships it just isn't efficient on smaller ones and that constant atmosphere-vacuum transitions are actually worse for maintenance than either fixing them outside or dumping them off on a tender. As such, there isn't a nice easy hangar to stroll out of, so we have to wait-.

Lights flash and a warning alarm sound, and then the exterior door opens and I fly us out.

"Three, two-."

"Hey can we… Actually fly-fly down?"

"Thanagarians might be able to fly in space, but you can't fly very fast. And I don't want to wait a couple of hours."

"Can't you just make us go faster? Pleeeeease?"

Ring, how far have they gotten? Oh, not very. Though there are geophysics scans on file for this part of the planet, they were looking for places that would be worth mining. Dense rock with no trace of Nth metal ore didn't warrant closer investigation, but thanagarians do know how to mine and they've got an industrial matter flayer down there silently boring a tunnel down towards where the temple should be.

"Al.. right." Bleez smiles-. "How well can you mimic normal humanoid body language?"

"Ah, pretty well?" She shrugs, and she makes the gesture more naturally than even Ms Thal does. "I had a diplomacy tutor from when I was five years old, and I've wanted to perform outside the Empire for, like, ages. No good swinging my wings around if no one knows what it means, right?"

She giggles as I give her a slightly closer look. Oh, trying to manipulate me without me noticing and embarrassed that I spotted it. Fine, it's pretty harmless, and if Onimar Synn or Thasaro turn up in person I can be down there in a second.

"Alright, fine."

I bend space a little, increasing our downward speed relative to the rest of the universe. The skin around her eyes pulls tight in a more thanagarian expression of pleasure, flying free and focusing on what's in front of her. She angles her wings, and the feedback from my ring suggests that she's using her own Nth metal space-warping abilities extremely well. Deciding to humour her a little further, I generate construct wings and adopt a similar posture as the continent spreads out before us.

She glances at my wings for a moment, then returns her gaze to the landscape ahead.

"Do they bother you?"

"Makes me wonder why you're surprised that I can do alien body language."

"Working as a Lantern brings me into contact with a great many alien species. Plus, I have my ring's database to draw upon." Closer now, I can start to see the shape of the terrain surrounding the buried temple with my eyes. "What do you actually make of this?"

"Huh?"

"The Seven Devils being historical fact, what looks suspiciously like a government conspiracy… I mean, pop singers on Earth generally don't get involved in this sort of thing."

"Y'know… Fighting's… Pretty much part of being thanagarian? Not just Thanagar's.. military government thing, but… We've never exactly been shy about violence. So if some thanagarians practise some weird religion and turn each other into monsters they're just another fight."

"And the mutants?"

"My Mother's generation lived through the Equality Plague and Hyathis's algae cure. Another way of messing with someone's body is just… Yeah, they're creepy, but that's more the face-wearing thing? They're not really out there."

As we fall through the atmosphere the thanagarians below us begin moving the boring equipment away from their entry point.

"The carrier's commander didn't seem quite so phlegmatic about it."

"That's 'cause he's from Thanagar. They get, like, taught from birth to hate the 'enemies of our glorious empire'. I'm a bit more realistic about stuff."

"And the colonies aren't? I'm surprised the Empire's government missed that trick."

"Education gets controlled by individual worlds. There are schools like that, but-."

A huge clawed arm shoots up out of the bore hole, grabs one of the soldiers mustering there and jerks back inside.

Right, we're inside the atmosphere. I stop bending space.

"Sorry, we'll have to continue this conversation later. Head away from the dig site."

I warp down, appearing in front of the bore hole as the thanagarian sergeant shouts his soldiers into some sort of order. Ring scans of the hole show me.. nothing useful. I fly down immediately, filaments extending ahead of me as I go. Assuming that the owner of the arm was humanoid, they would be… Approximately twenty metres tall. The claw put me in mind of the Man-Hawks' talons, but the structure they were attached to was clearly an arm. Large room up ahead and while there's some noise I'm not hearing any screaming.

And I'm out, rock wall behind and to the left of me while Nth metal columns support an Nth metal ceiling. The temple's portico, presumably.

"Ugh."

The thanagarian who was snatched a moment ago stabs at the claw enveloping her with her short sword, but the giant Vultureman lookalike holding her appears unaffected, not even bothering to look down at her.

Soon see about that.

Destruction pulse.
 
22nd January
03:32 GMT

The universe slows.

The blast of scintillating orange energy flies from my rings at narrowly subsonic speeds. I feel the slight drain as whatever passive enchantments the Seven Devil cultists put on this place try to oppose my avarice, but either they've faded with age or they weren't strong enough to begin with. Plus, I've got three rings now so I definitely don't have to conserve power. High energy use is the name of the game.

I know that my energy pulses are narrowly subsonic. At this distance the impact will be basically instant but it feels like I've got minutes. Ring, transmit a message to the carrier. Send an image of this thing and ask Ms Parker what it is that I'm fighting.

Compliance.

Two clawed hands. The beak is potentially dangerous, but otherwise it's a giant humanoid in an enclosed space trying to fight a highly manoeuvrable target. On the face of it, the danger posed is minimal, but unless I know its full exotic threat potential I can't do a proper analysis.

Let's see what the destructive pulse does. End acceleration.

The creature's eyes leap to the orange glowing blur and I see its irises contract. With no time for it to dodge the pulse hits it in the upper chest, the manifestation of my desire to erase this thing bursting through its flesh. As the light fades I can see the dull grey of its Nth metal-reinforced ribs, blood beginning to flow from the exposed muscle tissue.

"Kyaaaaah!"

I fire another volley of pulses aimed at its face from the ring on my right hand while using the left to generate a pneumatic separator construct in the fist holding the thanagarian soldier using a fat stream of orange light to anchor it to me. I'd feel a bit stupid if I used a filament and the creature was able to destroy it because I hadn't considered that flaw. The pulses scour the Nth metal reinforced keratin of its beak-.

I see the space around its body distort, and my pulses are redirected into the walls of the temple. I accelerate and switch my attacking ring to generating a construct blade while adding a clamp to the wrist of the hand I'm trying to force open. No sign of the chest regenerating, which is nice. My sword construct.. struggles to make an impression on its-.

Construct lost.

The distortion grows and it's right in front of me, its free claw already swinging my way! I surge forward, its claw narrowing missing my helmet as I fly through its legs. Just about kept my separator construct in place, but the clamp is gone and-

Connection lost.

-so is the sword. Apply more force-

The creature leaps towards the ceiling, its free arm once more flashing towards me! I fly back, narrowly dodging as it stabs its talons into the rock floor-.

I'm still accelerated. It's not keeping up with me, but it's coming close. I dodge again as it swipes, rising up-.

"Hrah!"

The thanagarian soldier finally has enough wiggle room to move, but rather than escape she changes position and shoves her sword under one of the giant birdman's talons! It instinctively jerks its hand away and she flies for the borehole. I abandon my other constructs to generate armour around her, getting it in position just in time to block its backhand swing. Not a strike-

It appears immediately in front of me again, and I'm not quite fast enough -ugh- to dodge. My kinetic barrier flares and fails as the Nth metal in the talons causes a feedback loop into its internal systems, but my environmental shield and power armour take it reasonably well.

-and it didn't crush her when it first took her. It's intentionally trying to avoid killing her. Why?

She takes a position by the borehole and hunkers down as two more marines fly down, particle beams at the ready. Given the effectiveness of their personal protective equipment and the level of force the monster is generating, they'll die unless I hold its attention.

It no longer has a hostage. I can work with this.

It swings and I evade, generating a large crumbler gauntlet construct as its claws swipe past me and slapping it into its arm. There's a release of energy as the flesh under the crumbler flies apart! The energy explodes outward and I generate construct armour to hold it off as the creature staggers, particle beams from the soldiers striking its skin to no apparent effect. The creature blurs out of the way and then smashes my-

Connection lost.

-construct from behind, destroying it. And then it-.

Warning. Gravitic-.

Stabiliser!

Space… Bubbles, the sudden gravity shear created by the creature battering against my constructs. Shots from the soldiers fly around.. more or less at random, flowing around a dozen tiny gravity wells before expending themselves against the walls.

"Stop-"

The universe darkens as the gravity distortions focus on me.

"-shooting-."

Warning-.

Yes, yes, more gravity-

Faintly, I hear my armour groan. And my rings kindly let me know that it's doing all sorts of unpleasant things to the tissues of my body.

-stabilisers. More power. Reshape the universe according to my desires!

And the groaning stops as the area is filled with orange light. Space.. unbends, and the thanagarian soldiers who had completely ignored my request to stop shooting actually start hitting again. Though either they've turned up the dial or the gravity shift thing requires all of the creature's concentration, because they're actually leaving a mark now.

Hah! The Huntsman managed more powerful gravity effects than this, and he was an expendable scout creature! Earth-crazy rules! Suck it, rest of the universe!

Incoming transmission from Ms Parker.

Okay, body and armour fixed, gravity… Bit of a wobble but basically normal. The creature is mostly just cringing back.

Answer.

"The creature you're fighting is called a Blessed One. It's what happens when a warrior devoted to Thasaro survives unaltered for fourteen years and then volunteers to be changed."

"Intelligent?"

"They can follow commands. I don't know how clever they are."

"Weaknesses?"

"If only. We killed them with lasers and nuclear weapons. I'm honestly surprised that there are any left."

"Could it be new?"

"Yes, but why would it be down here?"

"Pass." External. "Either use heavy ordnance or go and get some!"

Warning: spell eater temperature increasing.

And I feel… Something strange. Ring scans indicate minor alterations to my body, which they're immediately correcting. Trying to turn me into a Man-Hawk?

I shake my head. No, Thasaro. The Ophidian has a prior claim.

"This is my cause, this is my fight.
Shine through the void with orange light."

Orange light burns around my hands.

"I've claimed all within my sight.
To keep what is mine, that is my right."

A solid beam of destructive energy tears the Blessed One apart.
 
22nd January
03:40 GMT

Aaaaand rest.

Gravity… Normal. Mutations removed, spell eater temperature no longer increasing. Rings, state power reserves.

"Sixty nine percent power remaining." / "Eighty three percent power remaining." / "Seventy one percent power remaining."

Don't even need to recharge.

The soldiers move forward from their position near the borehole cautiously, keeping both the entrance to the temple proper and the Blessed One's corpse under their guns-. The entrance, the Blessed One and me under their guns the entire time.

"Oh, knock it off. I'm not impressed."

The.. flight leader makes a motion with his left hand and the guns are pointed elsewhere. "I was concerned that the alien might be.. influencing you."

"It was a corporeal creature with some spell casting ability. It would have to have been much better at magic before it could breach my defences. If you're interested-" The soldiers take position around the entrance. "-in learning what fighting actual demons is like, you should request a tour of duty on Earth."

"The day I get a power ring, I will do that."

"No, a power ring is what you get for surviving on Earth. We have five Sector Lanterns and three Honour Guard Lanterns for a reason."

He shudders slightly. "What sort of insane deathworld is it?"

"Grow some primaries." I get a short glare as he flaps his wings and glides over to the entrance. "Ms Parker, the Blessed One appears to be dead. Anything we need to do in order to make certain?"

"Sever the neck or destroy the brain."

I look over to the soldiers forming up around it. "You get-?"

They fire directly into its eyes, burning holes through into its skull cavity.

"Done. Should we expect more?"

"I don't know."

"Any other creatures we might run into?"

"Blessed Ones were always rare. They should be down to-"

"Man-Hawks!"

"-Man-Hawks and cultists. They might-"

Man-Hawks swoop down from the temple's interior, but the soldiers are prepared. Shots strike their avian faces and most of the first wave end their stoop with a crash into the floor. The thanagarians flit left and right, dodging their assailants and their plummeting bodies. Yes, this is what happens-

I raise my right hand and erase a Man-Hawk that was using two of its fellows for cover.

-when barbarians charge soldiers.

"-have a priest."

"A magic user?"

"Maybe, but the Seven Devils know more about Nth metal than any mortal-. Well, they did in m-. In Chay-ara's day. They might have advanced weapons down there."

I nod as the last of the Man-Hawks fall. "Everyone hear that?"

The soldiers give no sign that they've heard me as they finish off the last of the Man-Hawks, then press onward into the temple. Alright, fine, I'm not in their chain of command.

"Have you heard anything from the others?"

"Hector's team found a reliquary. Some indication of recent use, but there wasn't anyone there. Nothing from the others yet."

"Rightoh. I'll try and get a prisoner."

"Why?"

Ah, the commander was listening.

"I have ways of making them talk."

Construct armour to full, fat tendrils of orange light reaching out because whatever destroys my filaments is still active… I stride forwards into the temple behind the soldiers. They're leaving photon emitters as they go. Clever little things; rather than shining light out like a torch they cause things in their vicinity to leak a small number of photons. As a result the area glows enough to be clearly visible without there being a blinding light source anywhere. It still makes it a bit obvious to anyone further in that we're coming, of course. Thanagarians can be sneaky, but it's certainly not a focus of their doctrines. I suppose that being able to see clearly is probably more helpful when you're sure that you outnumber and outgun your enemies. And I'm reasonably confident that all of the corpses and shooting was a bit of a clue as to our intent.

What could go wrong? Ring, scan the soldiers for Man-Hawk mutations.

Minor physical alterations found.

Internal only. "Ms Parker, how long does it take to turn a thanagarian into a Man-Hawk? Assuming that they weren't volunteering."

"I don't know."

"Why do you need to know?"

"The soldiers here are being altered. Nothing overt yet, but my ring can detect it. They're going to need to be quarantined after the mission is over."

"I will arrange for physicians to attend to them. There is enough space around the temple itself to set up an isolation ward."

"Good. If we're lucky-" Sounds of shooting from up ahead. "-the transformations will stop when we nobble the priesthood."

"Understood. It is best to be prepared."

I accelerate to a jog, passing through another internal doorway to see the thanagarian soldiers suppressing defenders in what the map Ms Parker provided says is the inner sanctum. The weapons they're using… Gravitic accelerator kinetic projectile guns. Reasonable against Thanagarian military armour, useless against my kinetic barrier. I rise off the ground and fly through the breach at speed, ignoring the incoming fire as my barrier stops it before it can hit me. I retaliate with pinpoint destructive pulses, shooting their guns and destroying them. They pull Nth metal knives, so I drop a vertigo inducer at their feet and they collapse, clutching at their ears. While the cultists are wearing regulation creepy robes the soldiers are wearing sealed helmets, so that will be fine.

"Dread Thasaro! My lord and master!"

Sounds like a cult leader. The soldiers charge in, checking for targets and… They've been ordered to take prisoners. They're restricting themselves to inflicting disabling injuries rather than taking kill shots. I fly further in and catch sight of a robed figure standing in front of an idol, knife pointed at his own body. He spots my orange glow and turns, but my orange tendrils are easily powerful enough to punch through his weak shield spell.

"And brand."

He jerks, and my sigil appears on his forehead.

"Orange Lantern to ship. Mission accomplished."
 
22nd January
04:13 GMT

Ms Parker glares at the gormlessly grinning man inside the interrogation room. "Who is he?"

Once the commander was convinced that my brand worked as I claimed, he contacted Mr Pul and received a sealed list of questions to pass on to his interrogators. Having reviewed his soldiers' records of events in the temple he didn't feel quite right about throwing me out, so I returned the courtesy by only staying for the parts which related to my own interests. Wouldn't want them to think I was reporting everything to Hyathis, and I hope that voluntarily keeping myself ignorant will engender a little more cooperation.

"His name is Kartez. He's Thasaro's senior.. 'field priest'. Head of operations. The Blessed One was new, but it was the only one they've been able to.. make?" She nods distractedly. "They use a cell structure. He only knows a few names and faces, but he believes that there are small communities of Seven Devil worshippers throughout Thanagar Empire space. I didn't stay for the details; I'm sure that Imperial Intelligence would rather deal with the Empire's messes in private."

"This trip-." She shakes her head again, then turns to face me. "It's left me more disconnected and confused than I was on Earth."

"The memories?"

"Thanagar… In my day, this sort of… Deceit…" She takes a breath. "We risked everything to rise up against the Seven Devils. Wide scale deceit, enslaving.. aliens…"

"Didn't happen in your day?"

"The priests lied to us, so we were honest with one another. The Devils used us as weapons in their wars, so we only fought if we had to. I -Chay-ara- fought in two wars against species who still saw us as the servants of the Seven Devils. We didn't fight aggressive wars at all."

"Do you really think being honest about the existence of the Seven Devils is a good idea? It would only take a small disaffected group of citizens-."

"They shouldn't be letting our people live in conditions like that. Why would anyone build a city like that?"

"It wasn't there in your day?"

"There was.. probably a town there. Thanagarians have always liked mountaintops. We didn't.. bury our underclass. We didn't even really.. have one."

"How did that work?"

"We were a theocracy. Everyone served the Devils." She snorts quietly. "And that ethos of service lasted longer than the beings we served. And they didn't care enough about us as individuals to bother differentiating." She turns away, looking around the prisoner holding area. "I've been an American for three lifetimes. I want to blame the military take-over that happened after the Equality Plague for the stratification, but Bleez told me that it's actually gotten less bad since then. Anyone can join the military now, and that used to be class-restricted." She slumps. "We used to be so hopeful."

"Now that you have full access to Chay-ara's memories, have you considered writing a biography?"

"Charlie's been on at me about doing that. I said that we should prioritise the lives we lived in places on Earth no one else wrote about. Now I think I should write about Thanagar." She shakes her head. "Not that I think their government would let a book like that be published."

"Heh, yeah, the government banning it would totally stop people reading it." I shake my head. "Seven thousand years after Seven Devil worship was banned people are still doing it. I wouldn't overestimate the Thanagarian government's ability to enforce that sort of ban. Particularly if.. someone who could move around without a ship was doing the distribution."

"That could work. It'll still take me a couple of years to write it… And I can't reference anything. If there were any other records from that era, Thanagar's government would have destroyed them."

"Ex.. cept the records of the Green Lantern Corps."

Her eyes widen slightly. "That.. isn't a bad idea. If I could convince them to share them."

"There aren't any general rules against sharing unclassified historical records. In fact, there are examples of Green Lanterns sharing accurate historical data with researchers which have been ruled 'appropriate' when governments complained to the Guardians about it. We can stop off on Staphis on the way back if you're interested."

She nods distractedly.

Okay, it's a little hard to work out what effect this will have on Thanagarian foreign policy. Even if they take the temples apart for their metal content that won't add that much raw material to their building effort. How will it affect their military campaign? They must know that there's no Nth metal to be found on the worlds neighbouring theirs. They've already got more systems than they know what to do with. Certainly more habitable worlds than they've been able to fully settle. The only external threat is Hyathis and she's not exactly imminent, there's no casus belli…

Internally? Ordinarily I'd say that the opportunity to suppress one group of internal dissenters might spill over onto others not associated with the original justification. But the High Council already rules without external checks on their power. They only really need to justify things…

The old colonies. The High Council controls Thanagar, anything with 'Imperial' in the name and the new colonies. They don't control the old colonies in the same way. If you were building a cult, you'd want to set it up in a place that wasn't a police state. Somewhere that prided itself on not having military rule. And if.. there are significant cult communities on any of those worlds…

"Excuse me."

I stride across the detention area and into the attached briefing room. Bleez turns away from the muted live feed as she hears me walk in.

"Is now a good time for me to ask for a ride home?"

"Possibly. I'll have to talk to Mister Pul, but I doubt they're going to want external observers for the next bit. What religions do the old colonies practise?"

"None, really? I think the biggest religion is the Church of the One. And that got unbanned, like, thirty years ago. And all the native religions." She frowns as she tries to work out what my angle is. "We don't worship the Seven Devils, if that's what you're talking about."

"I'm a little concerned that the High Council might try and use this as an excuse to reduce colonial autonomy. It might be a good idea for you to encourage your mother to start taking action ahead of a government purge."

"Oh. Ah, yeah, they.. might. Any idea what to look for?"

"Isolationist communities. Places with little external contact. Anywhere with this symbol." I generate a construct image of the image tattooed onto the bodies of all of the cultists: a triangle on a circle with seven points radiating from it. "If no one's heard anything and you haven't seen any mutants then they're keeping things quiet. The majority of members might not even realise what they're part of."

"Right… Yeah…"

"What's the Religious Education component of your school curriculum like?"

"There isn't one, really. Education is controlled by individual principalities, there isn't any sort of general rule."

"You might want to get on that as well."

"Yeah." She walks past me and out of the briefing room. I follow her. "But I'm not exactly looking forward to living with Mother again."

"Noblesse oblige." I look around as several interrogators leave the cells. "Do you know what they're going to do with the-?"

There are flashes of light from the cells as the prisoners are shot dead.
 
22nd January
18:21 GMT +3

Lantern Dul looks around in confusion as she takes in the orchards of Erebos. "This… Are we under the island?"

"Metaphorically or literally?" I raise my right hand in greeting to some of the dead picking the fruit, and a few wave back.

"Literally." She glares at her ring. "I can't tell where we are. Is it magic?"

"This is the realm of the Hellenic dead. You could think of it as a pocket universe if you wish."

She turns her head to look at the apple-pickers. "Those people-."

"Dead."

"They don't look dead."

"No?" I shrug, turn and walk towards a small work party. "Excuse me!" They turn their heads in my direction. "Sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you could help me."

A young-looking man climbs down his ladder and ambles over. "You serve Eris, don't you?"

"I'm a devotee, certainly."

"Well, always up for a spot of fun." He looks over Lantern Dul for a moment before returning his attention to me. "What's the game?"

"My colleague here isn't convinced that you're dead."

He narrows his eyes at me, craning his neck slightly. "Y'wot?" I shrug in the helpless manner of an intelligent man asked to escort a fool. "Okay." He looks at Lantern Dul. "Usually I look like this, but if you're really not convinced…"

His neck.. twists around, bones misshapen and misaligned, wounds clearly visible on his head. Lantern Dul makes the gagging noise that thanagarians make instead of gasping. "Believe now?"

"How'd that happen?"

His neck twists back into place as his body reassumes the appearance of normalcy. "Some idiot smacked me with an oar 'cause he wasn't paying attention." He shrugs. "Bit stupid, but it weren't murder."

"That…"

"Here." He steps up to her and gestures to his neck. "Have a feel."

Lantern Dul reaches awkwardly out and puts her hands on the man's neck. She won't feel any breakages of course, but I wonder-.

"You don't have a pulse."

"Why would a dead man need a pulse?" The man shrugs as she pulls her hands back. "I only breathe out of habit."

"One day…" I look around. "I'll be coming here. Permanently. Not too soon, but as afterlives go it's not so bad. How do you think thanagarians would take to it?"

"They'd be as bewildered as I am." She flaps her wings, flying up to just above the tree line and then turning her head this way and that. "There's-. There's no horizon."

"Why would there be a horizon? This isn't a spheroid planet. We're in a pocket universe sustained by the inherent magics of a fallen titan straight out of the Dream. Don't bring your GCSE-level Objects and Motion physics into it."

"This is insanity." I grin, throwing my arms wide as if offering to embrace her. Or perhaps offering to embrace the world. She looks around once more before descending back to ground level. "Are we dead?"

"No, you can come here without dying. You just can't easily leave once you've died. The thaumaturgy is actually quite simple."

The farmer raises his eyebrows at that. "Simple, he says."

"How long have you been.. dead?"

"Owh, that's a tough 'un. Near two thousand years, I think. Been able to think clearly for maybe a third of that."

"What stopped you before?"

"Think it was something to do with Lord Hades giving us some of his power." He looks at me. "The thaumawhatever's probably dead simple."

"No, actually, it's really really complicated. There's a reason why he's a top tier god. Doesn't rest on his laurels." I nod politely to the man. "Thank you for your time, but I'm afraid we're needed in Lord Hades's court."

"I'll not keep you, then. Good journey."

Lantern Dul and I take to the sky, and I smile as I notice that she's using her wings rather than her ring. "I spoke to Dox while you were busy. Given the status of the Thanagarian Empire, we agreed that it was sensible to reassign you there pro tem."

"What 'status'?"

"Active demon cult. We'll probably call you back once we're certain that the Seven Devil Cult has been completely rooted out, but until then you're to assist Imperial Intelligence."

"Understood."

"I want to be clear, Lantern Dul: while we are prepared to accept you sending information to the Thanagarian Empire, you work for us. Your mission does not include reinforcing the High Council's control, expanding the Thanagarian Empire's borders or fighting Alstair. If you are unable to accept that, you may return your ring to me at any time."

"I.. understand. I was instructed to accept those conditions."

"Good show." We pass over the edge of the orchard and head towards the palace. I requested that Lord Hades meet us in the garden-. Ah, there he is, along with a portion of his court. "And I will personally stress the importance of your mission. I do not want to fight the Seven Devils. Or even one of them."

"Yes sir."

I land first and bow before Lord Hades, while Lantern Dul lands a little way back. I suppose the Seven Devils don't make the best impression as far as deities go.

"My lord."

"Pavlos, rise! Rise!" Lord Hades smiles warmly. "I am eager to see what new amusements you have brought me!"

"My lord, do you accept post-mortem conversion?"

"If they are genuine, yes, certainly."

"And you're prepared to judge those not raised in the Hellenist faith?"

"I'm prepared to judge you, and I'm sure that you'll be more trouble than anyone else could dream of being."

"Well then." I take an unpowered Dolmen gate out of subspace. "The other end of this is on another world." It didn't take Ambrose long to confirm that Mother of Mercy's feeding methods could indeed result in there being millions of ghosts on Ater Clementia. That's the sort of problem I'd like to stay on top of. "Certain.. events of late have made me aware that those who die in deep space might be condemned to spend eternity there. You, my lord, my god, are the one I would have judge them and give them a place to spend eternity." His face grows more serious. "You should be able to feel how to activate the gate. And in future, if I locate mortal remains, I would like permission to bring them here."

"I will not take those who are sworn to another god. But..." His eyes unfocus as he extends his hands towards the gate. "I will accept."

The gate shimmers as it activates, and the first translucent shade is drawn through. Lord Hades gestures and it solidifies into a form which is humanoid but obviously not human. They look around in bewilderment.

"Take a moment to get your bearings! No hurry!" Lord Hades looks at me. "How many are there, would you say? A few dozen? A hundred?"

"Millions. Possibly billions. I'm sorry to say that funeral traditions in many places just aren't what they should be."

Shades begin trickling through the gate, one after another.

Lord Hades stares.

"Billions."
 
22nd January
21:21 GMT

Krandor Vat sat in his dimly-lit study. Ultra-secure briefing pads littered his side table and desk, the simple programs running on them designed to erase all data and then burn out if it even looked like an unauthorised person was looking at them. Most of the content was concerning, though he would admit to himself that little of what was there was actually surprising. As a youth, he had been exposed to magic when Hyathis purged the Equalisation Plague from his body and restored to him the ability to be an individual. Having seen the transformation Thanagarian society went through -with access to the somewhat more objective first hand accounts, rather than the 'cultivated' version he'd seen put into circulation- as a result of magic, combined by twenty years of intelligence reports as Imperial Intelligence fed everything they had on Hyathis's current capacities to him as head of the High Council…

No. It would be lying to say that he believed himself to be beyond being surprised. But he hadn't had a reason to personally review the reports coming from Katar Hol and Shayera Thal. He was but one man, and he knew better than to try to micromanage everything. But now that Earth's-.

Oh, that name. It was almost as if someone made it up as a demeaning insult, only for the locals to take it as a compliment. 'Our whole world is downside'. He felt his lips curl in amusement. But with that place's problems having an increasing impact on the Thanagarian Empire, it seemed prudent to conduct a brief review in order to be properly informed.

Earth was no laughing matter. A figure made of water nearly drowned half the planet, and life continued much as it had before. A demon stole all of their children, and the matter was resolved within a day. Demented geniuses made weapons in secret laboratories that even the Thanagarian Empire's greatest scientists couldn't match. And time travel! One of the reports stated that the Thanagarian Empire would eventually annex the place. Frankly, he wasn't certain that was a good idea.

There was a hum from across the room, and he tidied up the report pads slightly as the teleporter and teleport-filter matched wits and codes for a few moments. Anyone trying to teleport into his presence without exactly the right authorisation would -at best- swiftly find themselves deflected into the holding cells operated by the Ravens. Of course, no system could be perfect…

The area lights up for a moment, and then Andar Pul appears. The High Mor gives him a moment to regain his bearings -he remembers his own superiors being less accommodating once upon a time- before he begins getting answers.

"High Mor."

"Senior Analyst. What news?"

"The strike against the Thasaro cult was a success. Their Blessed One was killed, along with most of their paramilitary arm. I've given conventional law enforcement their orders to deal with the rest."

"Not too thoroughly."

"I felt it best to avoid even implying that. Much as I'd like to write them off as a bunch of deluded fools, they have been running a subversive organisation for thousands of years in the face of government opposition. I doubt we could catch them all even if we wanted to."

"And our inside man is.. in place?"

"Yes. And with Kartez dead, it's likely that the cultists' other leaders will begin to shift their position."

The High Mor bows his head slightly. Almost perversely, Kartez had wanted to use his cult's unusual powers to show their worth to Thanagarian society at large and earn acceptance. And Vat couldn't be certain that it wouldn't have worked. Some more excitable members of the High Council might have gone for it if a Blessed One could defeat a Lantern.

Idiots.

"He knew nothing about the transmutation process himself?"

"He believed that it involved ritual murder, but was unaware of the specifics."

"Pity. I've always thought that executions were wasteful. Are you certain that he told you everything?"

"Everything we could risk asking. The Illustres's technique…" His wings twitch slightly, an unusual nervous display from the normally controlled operative. "Kartez genuinely wanted to help us. It was unnerving."

"Can Lantern Dul perform the same technique?"

"She claims that she has far less control. I'm inclined to believe her, but if need be I can ensure that she gets practice."

"Do so, do so. And the Illustres himself? Is the.. report from the cruiser's commander accurate?"

"The cruiser's sensors are only slightly enhanced, farsight class four. They aren't precise enough to decipher gravitic phenomena with complete reliability, but… I'm inclined to believe it."

That.. was.. troubling. While getting hard figures on what Sector Lanterns could do merely required expending a small number of privateers, no one Imperial Intelligence had been able to contact knew what the limits of Lantern power were.

"At least I can avoid wasting resources trying to develop singularity weapons. The soldiers involved. They're reliable?"

"Yes." Meaning that they wouldn't talk about mission-specifics when they weren't supposed to. The High Mor believed that his people made excellent warriors, but not all were suited to discreet work. "But I wouldn't want to order them to fight a Lantern at any point in the near future. Not after a display like that."

"Is he working with Hyathis?"

"All of the junior analysts I had examining our footage agree that he was telling the truth. Which might be a problem, because if he needs anything else from her he might make a similar deal again."

"Mm. And if we need to do something to prevent that… How did he respond to Operative Bleez?"

"Outright seduction was always a long shot. Particularly given the fact that none of the attacks he endured were true threats to him. Nonetheless, he responded positively. I believe that it's worth arranging for them to remain in contact. His.. idea, about using this opportunity to reduce colonial autonomy..?"

"No. The current arrangement works well enough, and we need their cooperation more than their compliance. As the new colonies become more populous they'll cease to be so significant anyway." The High Mor thinks for a moment. "Are Hol and Thal still dependable?"

"No. We can rely on them for accurate intelligence, but they've gone native. Which should have been predicted. The element of Earth society they joined lionises heroic iconoclasm. They fit in well…"

"Quite. Too well. I fear we have to use them anyway, for another purpose."

"High Mor?"

"Earth has many gods. It's been playing on my mind that one of them might prove to be a better solution."

"I'm… That.. would.. mean that we'd wasted a great deal of-."

Vat silences him with a gesture. "Do not worry yourself about that. Your job, Andar Pul, is to make things happen. And you've risen far by being very good at it. Mine, is to decide whether or not those things are worthwhile." A gesture of obeisance from Pul's wings. "Were we able to get a sample of the… Ancient ship's hull?"

"No. Attempts were made, but none of the tools we could have used without it being immediately obvious made an impact." He pauses as he tries to decipher his superior's intent. "Such a material has applications-."

"The Illustres was open regarding concerns about Onimar Synn. With a first hand account of Ancient Thanagar's theocratic government in our hands, it would be… Convenient if we could learn the secrets of Nth metal transmutation from another source. One without the risks he feels exist."

"Should I put the operation on h-?"

"No. No. Proceed. There's no reason to limit ourselves to a single angle of attack. I think I will encourage Hol and Thal to reach out to our time-lost cousin. As a patriot, I rather like the notion that our forebears cast down our gods by brute force and tenacity. It rather puts our supply problems in perspective."

"Is it worth publicising?"

"Not yet. Perhaps.. when we get a little more detail. That aspect won't be your problem, and a hero we can't reliably kill could become an inconvenience."

"The.. book she was talking about?"

"The Illustres was right. Outright stopping it would be… Difficult. Openly celebrating it would be more sensible, though I'd rather like to influence her ahead of publication." The High Mor gestures to his desk and Pul puts his full written report down on it. A long night of reading ahead. He really was getting too old for this. One last crisis… "That will be all. Thanagar soars supreme."

"Thanagar soars supreme, High Mor."
 
9th August
20:05 GMT -5

I frown for a moment as Red Arrow née Speedy vanishes to wherever he set the zeta tube to transport him to.

LaGN29


"Ah..? Sirs? What fortified location that isn't a school in a civilian area are we moving Doctor Roquette to? I ask because if the location isn't ideal I can use this-" I raise my left hand. "-ring to maintain an untraceable internet connection from just about anywhere."

9th August 2010
22:54 GMT -5

"How about a kiss?"

!Really good!

That sounds like something I shouldn't do. On the other hand, she isn't armed, she's tied to a chair and I have a power ring. And Batman… Well, Talia and Selina.

The Hierarchy flashes through my head. This doesn't appear to be contrary to any other levels of Need. I've always been a bit reticent where this sort of thing is concerned. Maybe, now is a good time to change that.

I lower the chair to the rooftop, and drop to the ground myself. "Are you sure? I wouldn't... I mean, I don't want to pressure…"

"If you'd had to live with him, you'd understand."

!Really good!

I walk two paces forward, alongside the chair and her free forearm. I increase the height of the chair slightly, so her head is only slightly below the level of my own.

Ring, she doesn't have a cyanide tooth or something, does she?

No poison detected inside her mouth.

LaGN29


Ring, come on. Is she carrying any poisons or other mind-altering chemical agents?

Subject is wearing drugged lipstick.

Was that so hard? Remove the drug.

Compliance.

A strobing orange light shines out to her lips from the ring.

Task complete.

Right then. Ring, drop armour.

I lean forwards and across, head tilted slightly to the side. I tense slightly as her hand touches the back of my head, but I suspect that my inexperience is showing. She presses me forward gently, and I move with her, eyes scanning her face before settling on her eyes. Closer, and our noses rub against each other. Our lips come together. Soft, warm, and.. slightly damp? That's probably the non-poisoned component of her lipstick. She removes her hand and I take that as the sign that I should pull back. I run my tongue along my lips. Hm, biscuit crumbs.

**Why are you KISSING the ASSASSIN?** Artemis is not amused.

**Her idea. Miss Martian, getting anything good?**

A pause.

**Hello Megan! You were trying to distract her!**

**I like to think I was keeping her attention focused at least a little, yes.**

**Right! Um, I've got the location of a few League of Shadows safe houses and informants. Nothing that really applies to this mission though.**

**Oh well, still useful. We'll pass it on to Batman.** Jade watches my face carefully. I suppose that me just standing here looks a bit odd. I smile at her. "Pleasant as that was, I'm afraid that I need to arrest you now. Though do feel free to look me up upon your release."

Gotham City
15th October
22:15 GMT -4

"Does this whole telepathic training thing seem weird to you?"

"Everything on this planet seems weird to me. Including me."

"Y'know what I mean."

I shrug. "It's not like we can practise a major natural disaster in the real world. We'll know it's not real but it will seem completely real. And, hey, if it works we could get M'gann to do it again for fun."

"What if something goes wrong?"

LaGN29


"Well…" I look around the empty Gotham streets. "Not a lot seems to be happening here. Why don't we have a bit of a brainstorming session?"

15th October
10:22 GMT -4

Mr J'onzz walks into the Mountain's dining area and Artemis and I come to our feet.

He smiles faintly. "Batman informed me that you wished to speak with me."

I nod. "Yes, thank you sir. Artemis and I were talking about this.. whole.. telepathic illusion thing yesterday, and.. we've got.. one or two concerns. They're.. probably not big problems, but I thought it would be worth checking with you anyway."

"I will do my best to ease your worries."

I nod. "Thank you. The first thing I noticed is that the Manhunter version of this process requires that additional trained telepaths be on standby in case there are any problems. You won't be running it like that."

"No. As there are no other telepaths on the League, I have grown accustomed to running the exercises on my own. I have not experienced any great difficulty in doing so."

"Right, except that M'gann is a telepath. Which links to our second concern. Manhunters have standardised assessments of their telepathic and telekinetic strength. I tried to look up M'gann's and it wasn't on her file? Obviously it wouldn't mean as much to me as it would to you, but it would give me some idea of relative ability."

"M'gann is a Manhunter Auxiliary on paper only. I am not qualified to administer those tests, and as they are not required for work as a superhero on Earth I have not sought to return her to Mars to arrange for someone else to do so."

"Okay, but that means that… If she saw something traumatising and had a telepathic surge… Not only do you not know how strong it would be and whether or not you could contain it… There wouldn't be any backup for you if you couldn't." He nods slowly. "And it wouldn't have to be a surge: sufficiently powerful telepathy could be a problem in itself. I also checked League records, and you haven't ever run a session with Giovanni Zatara as a participant. I couldn't find anything about Manhunters training attached Sorcerer-Priests in this way, but you certainly haven't done this with an active magic user before. And then there's me. While you have run sessions with Green Lanterns before, green power rings can't assimilate things. I could just take it off before we start, but I've been practising calling it to me remotely. It could well find its way to me part way through."

"That is all true. What do you suggest?"

"Excluding Kaldur, M'gann and myself would be the obvious choice, as the rest of the team have equivalents who have gone through this successfully before. But I'd feel happier if you spoke to Henry King Junior -Brainwave- about having him act as your backup. Though another martian would be better, he has substantial experience with telepathic illusions and could probably do just as well. And obviously you need to get a rough idea of how powerful M'gann is." Urgh. "And to be honest sir? If you're training her, that's something you should do anyway. Wonder Woman assessed my ability to strike and take hits in return before she sparred with me, much less sent me on missions."

Mr J'onzz stands motionless for a moment, then nods his head. "I believe that your concerns are justified. I will speak to Kaldur about rescheduling the exercise until I can speak with Mister King."

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate you listening to our concerns."

"No. I thank you both for bringing this oversight to my attention."

He nods, then turns and walks out of the living area.
 
Nobody Move, part 21

19th February 2009
21:12 GMT -5

Intellectually, I knew something like this was the most likely result. Still, even... I can't help but stare at the television screen in horrified fascination as the news breaks that Mr Stillwell has decided to break his silence on events behind the total implosion of Vought-American's superhuman development program.

"…seems crystal-clear: his identifying Vought-American Senior Executive Jessica Bradley as being responsible for the breakdown in control…"

And he's decided to drop Ms Bradley in it.

"Why do you keep watching this?"

Charlotte -bless her heart- tightens the arm she's put around my waist, pulling me a little closer. I'm watching events unfold on television in my bedroom as she doesn't want me watching this where the children might see it. But she also doesn't want me watching it on my own, so: here she is.

In my dreams, I still-.

The children are better than they were, but there are things they do not need to be reminded about. We've pretty much had to shut them inside since November, public.. hatred for Vought-American in general and superheroes in particular meant that they risked being shouted at or outright assaulted on the streets. The only reason that reporters stopped camping outside our house is that I -as just about the only superhero who actually manages to fulfil the description of the role- asked them not to. Empty enough children's wards and you.. rather end up in your own category.

I still remember begging John to stop, the blood of the White House staffers he'd killed completely coating his uniform. And I was right. He actually.. wasn't as bad as he thought he was.

Fat lot of good that fact.. did… Anyone.

"We need to know what's happening. Vought-American will send someone to talk to us eventually."

"…Bradley, he said, sadly chose to ignore his advice and pursue…"

"Should we even talk to them?"

"I-. I don't know."

The fact is, Vought-American pay for everything around here. I've got enough money that buying a house large enough for everyone wouldn't be a great strain, and… Well, my own earnings haven't dipped all that much. But actually.. being superheroes, that's not something I'm sure I know how to make work. The children are more confident in their own abilities now, but a good deal of their self-esteem comes from the positive reactions they used to get from people who live in the area. Even excluding the worst of the hostility, that's… Gone.

"No, we.. should. We shouldn't make decisions without hearing all of the options." I tilt my head to the side, briefly resting it against hers. Then I rise to my feet, calling my staff over to me and catching it in my left hand. "But, now I'm.. afraid that I have work to do."

"The hospital said-."

I shake my head. "Not the hospital."

Because 'compassion' doesn't just mean 'being nice to nice people', it doesn't just mean 'for the deserving'. It has to, has to, mean everyone.

I open a portal and step through, into Ms Bradley's hotel room. The television… The remote control is embedded in the screen, and clumps of hair litter the floor in front of it. There's blood, and for a moment I worry that I'm too late. But… No, there isn't enough. She.. literally tore her hair out of her scalp.

"Ms Bradley?"

I hear a quiet despair-filled chuckle as she staggers in from the bathroom. I-. Ah yes, a certain amount of damage has been done to the minibar. She looks… Well, a fright. There's vomit on her chest and on her right sleeve, her usually immaculate hair has been savaged and there are small cuts on her face where she appears to have clawed herself.

"What do you want?" She blinks. "Or did they send you to put me out of their misery? I didn't think they did that-"

I solemnly shake my head. "Nothing like that."

"-to executives, but leave it to James to cover all the bases."

"Would you like me to clean you up? You appear to be in a somewhat distressed state."

"OhFUCKYOU!"

She opens a medicine bottle and swallows-. Ah, yes, I was worried she might do something like that. Swallows more high-strength painkillers than is entirely healthy, especially when combined with the alcohol which she has already consumed.

"I… Sympathise-."

"Oh, of course you do. You can't not!"

"And if you're really set on killing yourself, I won't stop you."

There's a slight.. flinch, but yes, she's decided. Extreme risk-taking at least. There's no gun… What's the best way to-? The Derren Brown approach? Hm, might work. But what angle-?

Ah.

"And then, once you've passed on, I will fuck your corpse."

She jerks, the pill bottle falling from her hand, its contents spilling out across the floor.

"WHAT?"

"Oh, don't worry, I'll clean it up before anyone sees it. In fact, I can fix up everything. You'll leave a beautiful corpse." I pause for effect. "For me to have sex with."

"You came here to rape me?!"

"No, of course not. You can't rape a corpse." I pause again. "In this state. It's a completely different criminal offence."

She stares at me in horror.

"I'm.. really not clear what the problem is. You'll be dead, so you won't actually experience anything. Your legacy won't be tainted further because I'll perform a full cleanup-. Actually, is there anywhere you particularly want your corpse found? I was planning on fucking it in a number of locations anyway, so it's really no extra effort for me to take it somewhere else once I'm spent. Your apartment?"

She's still staring at me in horror.

"Or if you have a preferred mortician or.. undertaker?"

She manages to blink. "Whhhhhhhhrrr-?"

"Or a hospital for organ donation? The alcohol and painkillers might cause some damage, but your heart and lungs are in excellent-."

"Stop! Stop, just fucking-" She holds up her broken-nailed hands in a warding gesture. "-stop." Her shoulders shudder, and she's… Crying. "I-I can't I can't I can't-."

I sigh, stepping forward and wrapping my arms around her. She.. half-heartedly resists for a moment before latching on and pressing her dried-vomit coated face into my chest. "Ms Bradley, I… Don't need to tell you that you are in a great deal of difficulty." Ring, neutralise those painkillers. "But this is survivable. It is quite likely that you will be going to prison. Certainly, you will never work in your preferred field again. But there are still things you can do with your life, things that will be interesting to you and valuable to the community at large. I would suggest making a completely clean breast of things to the Senate committee at the earliest opportunity, and instructing a lawyer who can act in your defence. If Mr Stillwell has fucked you anyway, there's really no reason not to fuck him right back."

Being compassionate doesn't mean that I believe that reasonable and proportionate chastisement is unjust.

"Ultimately, the only one who can decide what you're going to do is you. If you really want to kill yourself, I will not prevent you. But please believe me when I say that where there's life, there's hope."

She appears to be going somewhat limp. I run a wave of indigo light over her, removing the vomit and mending her wounds, before picking her up and laying her on the room's bed. I linger for a moment, leaning over her and smiling kindly.

"And where there's death, there's me fucking your corpse. So… Think about it."
 
Ways and Means
  • Threadmarks
    • Ways and Means

    24th January
    11:12 GMT

    I take a look around Barnard's Star System. Not a great deal here, to be honest. One tiny red dwarf only a little larger than Jupiter, and one frozen dustbowl of a super-Earth. I haven't actually bothered coming here before precisely because there's nothing interesting here. And I'm reasonably confident that humans in general won't ever do anything with the place. By the time we get good enough faster than light travel to actually go anywhere, we'll have far better options than this.

    Thanks to my rings I'm perfectly aware that there are examples of successfully colonised super-Earths… But that one doesn't have the sort of mineral resources that would make overcoming a surface temperature 150 below zero worthwhile. There are.. some volatile elements down there, but nothing that would make a convenient fuel. And forget solar power; Barnard's Star is the fourth closest star to Earth and it's still so dim as to be invisible to the naked eye. Colonising some of the Sol System's moons would be easier. An artificial habitat would be more useful. This is just.. kind of.. here.

    "So? How are you enjoying freedom?"

    As far as I can read his expression, my companion isn't any more impressed by the place than I am.

    "Very little."

    Yeah, I suppose…

    Lantern Xor accelerates, flying down towards the impression in the ice left by the crashing of the ship which brought him to this region of space in the first place. I'm really.. not sure where they were going. His species lives quite a way further towards the galactic rim, on the Perseus Arm. We're on a rough line between where they're from to a number of places, but it's still quite a long way to cart a bunch of prisoners.

    "Alright. What did you think of the court process?"

    "It was inefficient. I was in prison for a quarter year while they investigated events whose cause was readily apparent."

    "Oh, come on. I saw where you were living. That was hardly a prison."

    He turns his head to glower at me for a moment. "A pretty prison is still a prison."

    I suppose for someone as honour-focused as him, the slight caused by what must have felt suspiciously like a presumption of guilt would have been objectionable enough that it spoiled the positive aspects for him.

    "Did you learn anything?"

    "Yes." He comes to a stop about forty metres above the ground. Whatever surface water was melted has long since refrozen, though with no precipitation the larger parts of the wreckage are still exposed. "I do not like being punished for things that I have not done. It does not matter to me whether those punishing me believe that I have done it or not."

    "I was hoping for something a little more profound. Have you developed an opinion on how a judicial system should work?"

    He huffs. "What is there to say? A liar can lie in a heartbeat. Or take many days to say nothing, and force others to wait for them." He raises his right hand. "Can this ring make people honourable? Can it make their codes make sense?"

    "The ring can do anything you want. But before you act, you should understand what you are asking."

    He scowls, but he isn't scowling at me. He's scowling at the stupid, over-complicated universe he's forced to live in.

    "I am honourable. I know I am honourable. When I do wrong as I know wrong I accept punishment. I exchange guilt for service or for pain. But I have behaved honourably, I have obeyed your people's law-rules and still your people say I am bad."

    "You know that it's not that simple."

    He takes a newspaper out of subspace and throws it at me. "See what they say!"

    I catch it in a construct and take a look at the cover. Hm. The Patriot. An article covering his absolute discharge. It's… Well, it's slanted, which is to be expected given its target audience and the fact that most of the people he killed or crippled were from the area. But I can't see any factual inaccuracies.

    "Yes? You did.. kill quite a few people. You can't really expect their community to be happy about that."

    "They should have trained them to have better morals. I was force-educated to be a weapon and I would not attack someone who was not an enemy soldier."

    "So is that the take-away? Do you want to take that approach, teach people the virtue of personal responsibility?"

    "No." He wiggles his head. "Yes. I don't know. No."

    "Xor, you've had four months to think about it."

    "It is difficult."

    "Xor, I'm your instructor. If you need help learning something, talk to me. Tell me what it is."

    He doesn't reply. Instead, he thrusts his left hand forwards and scans the wreckage.

    Okay… "Question for you. You have a house. The house is on fire. The house contains every object that you value." He grunts quietly in acknowledgement as the ice vanishes. "You have time to remove one thing from the house before it and everything left in it is destroyed by the fire. What do you remove?"

    "Are things that have been destroyed in the house?"

    "Yes."

    "My armour, from when I was a Warhound. Normal fire would not harm it, but this fire is made of philosophy."

    "It's the most dangerous kind."

    I wait a moment. John checked this ship out not long after it crashed here. No survivors, but there are bodies down there. Xor was confident that all of the crew got out and he was the last prisoner to evacuate, so I'm working on the assumption that whatever killed them was the thing which triggered the evacuation in the first place.

    "Interesting choice. Why the armour?"

    "My armour was personal. Its scars, my history. It means more than any weapon, and is more useful than any other memento."

    "Why the armour… And not the fire?"

    His excavation beam blinks out. "What?"

    "Why not the fire?"

    "You said I could take out one valuable object. I do not value fire."

    "No, I said that you could take one thing. The fire was in the house. Xor, I think we need to-."

    "Incoming ship detected."

    Xor and I both turn to look upwards. Not that we can see it from here, but I suppose some instincts are ingrained. Ring-scans show the ship to be an Ungaran… Looks like an old ore-hauler. Odd place for it to come-.

    There's an explosion, and the ship jolts in space.

    And I'm mildly pleased that Xor is accelerating upwards without needing me to order him to. But I still arrive first as I transition to the ship. An orange construct patch over the hole will prevent further atmosphere loss…

    "Orange Lantern to ship-."

    Another part of the hull blisters and explodes, a red figure drifting out of the resulting hole. Male humanoid, a white theatrical mask covering his face, his hair appearing to be made out of fire and his arms looking like claws made of flames.

    "Who are you and what-?"

    "This is my ship, I found it, it's mine. Get lost."

    "Either you can explain yourself better than that, or-."

    The figure extends their right hand towards the ship, space… Wavering as its hull begins to fall apart where it's pointing. At least seven members of the crew are still on board.

    "You're-"

    My destructive pulse hits the figure in the chest and knocks it away from the ship.

    "-under arrest."

    He rallies, apparently unhurt. "Like fuck I am."
     
  • Threadmarks
    • 24th January
    11:17 GMT

    The ship's crew are hunkering down, good. Xor will be here in seconds-.

    The figure extends both hands towards me, shifting in space without apparent propulsion. I evade-. Ring, what am I fighting and what is it firing at me?

    Unable to analyse.

    Great, space magic, now? I didn't think that was possible, but if-.

    No. Passive glow disruption.

    Qwardians? Some other Maltusian faction? Pain in the arse, but okay. Make a construct sensor and scan.

    Compliance.

    "wRaH!"

    My opponent waves his arms and I spot the stars behind him skip-. I raise construct armour as the disruption wave passes over me-. Ah! Whatever that attack was, it bypassed my construct armour and my regular armour. And if my environmental shield hadn't soaked it I might well have died.

    "Did I win y-?"

    I generate two laser constructs and shoot him in the eyes, maintaining the beams as I recreate the sensor-

    "Gah!"

    -construct and try and work out what I'm seeing. Damage pattern matches… Ahhhh. Closest match is a.. martian using molecular destabilisation. Can't be a.. martian, he's not using telepathy, but there's no inherent reason why someone else with telekinesis and shapeshifting couldn't do it as well...

    He gestures and my laser constructs are shredded. Since they seem to be keeping him distracted, reform them and keep firing.

    Compliance.

    "Lantern Xor, recover the crew and defend them."

    "I obey."

    There's a faint orange glow as Xor cuts his way through the hull on the far side of the ship. His service history included enough sweep-and-clears that I'm sure he knows what he's doing.

    Random bullshit powers suggests human. Ring?

    Subject is speaking American English.

    I think some Ungarans speak English, but the language hasn't travelled all that much off Earth. So if I assume he's a metahuman whose powers allow him to fly in space… He should know me by sight, shouldn't he?

    "Earth law doesn't-."

    A.. burning wall appears between us, growing as my lasers attempt to move around it to maintain fire on his eyes. What? How is-? I mean, yes, a martian could move chunks of their body into a novel arrangement and create a controlled destabilisation of its molecular structure, but it wouldn't just be… Suddenly wall. That's a construct-like effect. Ring, are you sure there's no power ring in operation here?

    No evidence of power ring activity.

    I.. think there's a certain amount of circumstantial evidence.

    Numerous technologies exist which can-.

    Yes, I know.

    I dismiss the lasers and pull back slightly, ring scan showing me as Xor leaves the ship with the crew in tow. Protecting the crew is the most important thing, and now that they're safe I can try-.

    A beam of vacuum-proof fire blasts past me as whoever this is switches from a solid wall to a shifting series of plates. As with a Lantern, there's a thin line of fire between his body and each plate. But he's missing his shots. No guidance or AI? If he's a general telekinetic, I'm the only object here… He should just be able to feel me, even if he can't exert enough force on me to disable me. Does he not.. know that? Has he only recently manifested his powers? If so he's doing well but-

    I generate a psi-shock grenade and fire it at his shields.

    -I'm still confident of my ability to take him in alive. I should probably visit-

    "Uh-Ughh-h!"

    -Ungara at some point anyway.

    Ah. A Lantern's constructs would have collapsed after getting hit with a psi-shock grenade. His have remained in place, but they've stopped moving and from what I can make out the man himself appears to have stopped moving with them. Railgun, crumbler rounds set for premature detonation, fire at the thinnest layer of barriers… Make a hole, send bands of orange light through the gap and grab him before he can recover. Okay, his mouth is exposed to space so gassing him isn't an option, but the neural inhibitor I used on Larfleeze is perfectly viable. That will stop him forming coherent thoughts while I get a better look at his brain. The brains of human telepaths tend to have certain features in common, and I'll be far happier about this if I can suppress his unusual abilities without suppressing his entire mind.

    …

    What am I..? Looking at? I mean, it looks… Kind of human. I definitely recognise some of the neural architecture. But every.. part has been alt-. That looks martian, it's even shapeshifting sl-.

    His eyes focus and phase!

    Ah-!

    Burning whatever-this-is sears off most of my chest plate and face plate and.. some of my actual face, but now that the phase shift is active it's just passing through me. I warp back, getting out of the way as much as I can before phasing back in and starting repairs.

    "Who did that to you?"

    "Fuck you! What the fuck were you doing to me!?"

    "Trying to work out how to safely defuse you. That looked-" He flings a fiery net at me, and I shoot a hole through it with crumbler rounds. "-martian. Did someone alter your brain?"

    "Yeah! And it feels great!"

    "Who did it? Why did you attack this ship?"

    "Call themselves the Controllers!" What. "And apparently the people who own it did something to piss them off, I don't know."

    Ring, send scans to Controller Hinon and ask her what the heck is going on.

    Compliance.

    "I report to Controller Hinon. And no one mentioned you."

    "I didn't even know they had names. And yeah, I know you work for 'em."

    "Then would you care to explain-?"

    "You shot me! And you're trying to steal my kills!"

    "I shot you because you were continuing to attack the ship. And I'm not trying to steal your kills. I'm trying to prevent you killing them."

    "Why?"

    "What do you mean, why? Because, firstly, I'm assigned to this Sector, and that means best practice. If I want to take someone in, I make every effort to peacefully detain them, and then hand them over to the relevant authorities. I certainly don't grab a random merchant vessel-."

    "They're pirates."

    "Have they been convicted in a court?"

    "The fuck is your problem?" He sounds genuinely mystified.

    "That ship has no guns, minimal shields and minimal armour. It isn't a threat. You could easily have disabled it and taken the crew captive."

    "Pi-rates." He half-turns. "Where did they g-?"

    "Controller Hinon is on Earth. Come with me and we'll both find out what's going on."
     
    24th January
    03:29 GMT -8

    "Hmm."

    Hinon regards a construct-image of my opponent. Who hasn't arrived yet. He was heading this way. but whatever his faster than light speed is it isn't as fast as I can move. It's the middle of the night here in Coast City, and the orange light illuminates Ferris Air's airfield. Not really sure why she was here, but I'd guess that it was something to do with Ms Ferris herself.

    "Was this.. something you were planning on telling me about..?"

    She look up from her contemplations. "Oh, don't look at me. I'm an expert in glow manipulation technology. I didn't do this."

    "So you didn't know that-."

    "I thought that you understood, but let me make it very clear. I am a member of species of multi-millennial omni-disciplinary geniuses. I know what all of the Controllers working under me with the Orange Lantern Corps are doing for part of their time. But I don't know what they're doing all of the time. And I don't know what the rest are doing at all."

    "He specifically said 'Controller'."

    "Even if-."

    "What did you do with the Martian I sent you?"

    "If you remember, I was in a coma."

    "Didn't you ask? I thought you were the Controller in charge of me-related shenanigans."

    "Didn't you ask?" She dismisses her construct. "If it bothers you so much-."

    "I thought they'd just turn them into a modern martian. Or keep them in containment. Isn't there some sort of.. policy about letting other Controllers know when you're operating in their area?"

    "Quite the opposite, actually. We usually don't get involved in one another's projects at all."

    "Do you have a rule about not doing things liable to antagonise the Guardians? Because I'm fairly sure that hunting down and killing people is the sort of thing they're against."

    "That.. varies, actually. If there was a warrant issued by a local stellar power, he could legitimately pursue it. There isn't any sort of collective licensing requirement in this region."

    "So… We -as an organisation- don't actually-?"

    "We are not an organisation. We Controllers are a collaboration. And until I know which of us it was-" A plume of fire appears in the air above us as he heads towards us. "-who worked on this fellow I can't really comment on their motivations."

    Just in case he doesn't know where we are, I create a large orange pointer in the air above us. I rather got the impression from Lantern Jordan that the local authorities have developed pretty good policies for handling weird stuff happening. They've sort of had to. This shouldn't warrant a panic, though it would be polite-.

    Ring, explanatory message to the local police chief.

    Message sent.

    The… No. I'm sure that someone considered this to be a strikingly memorable design, but this is a comic character of whom I have zero recollection. I can't blurt out either a personal name or code name I shouldn't know because I genuinely don't.

    "Hey." He glances my way and then focuses his attention on Hinon. "Do I salute you or whatever?"

    "You don't have to, but I won't stop you if you choose to." He raises his right hand to somewhere near his forehead and waves it. "I suppose that will do. Now, young man, who are you?"

    "Effigy."

    "I suppose it has the virtue of being short. And what were you doing?"

    "Hunting pirates. The Controller who made me thought it would be a good way to field-test…" He clenches his right fist, and a gauntlet apparently made of fire covers it. "This."

    "The Controller in question. Male? Female? Other? Did they give a name?

    "He said you didn't really use names." His mask-face looks puzzled. "You.. have names?"

    "Yes, yes we do. I am Hinon Hee Hannanan, and the whole 'no names' thing is an idiotic affectation which some of my juniors have adopted. Did he give you some way to contact him?"

    "No, he just said that he'd check up on me in a couple of weeks."

    "Tiresome. Give me a moment while I try and find out which of us it was."

    He shrugs as orange lights speckle the air around her.

    "Can you turn back?"

    "What?"

    "Can you turn back. I mean-" I wave my right hand in front of my face. "-are you.. stuck looking like that, or can you turn it off?" He stares at me. "You do know that your face-?"

    "You think I want to turn this off?"

    "It might make social interaction a little awkward."

    "Nah, fuck it. I'm owning this. Being me wasn't so great anyway."

    "You sure? I'm guessing that the mask follows the original contours of your face. I don't mind making you a holographic disguise."

    "You shot me."

    "We clearly had conflicting orders-"

    "As if we ever gave you orders."

    "-and while I'm not convinced what you were doing was the best way to go about it, there's a difference between that and 'some guy randomly attacking shipping', which is what I initially thought you were doing."

    He smirks. "You going to apologize properly, then?"

    "If you can show me details of the investigation you conducted and the evidence you gathered, I'll consider it."

    "That ship was registered as being taken by pirates with the Zakkaria ship registry."

    "Which doesn't prove that the current owners had anything to do with that."

    "So they trade with pirates." He shrugs. "That's how they make money-."

    "There are plenty of ways to make a transaction appear legitimate which don't involve them saying 'yes, you're totally not pirates, wink wink'. And in any case, the Zakkaria ship registry isn't completely reliable. Quite aside from ships having a standard design and it being perfectly possible to change names and transponders, there are dozens of occasions when ships have been registered as 'taken by pirates' for insurance reasons or.. by people trying to get their rivals in legal trouble."

    "So why didn't they say any of that?"

    "Have you looked in a mirror recently? You don't exactly project the image of an officer of the law."

    He looks himself over. "What? How is my costume different to what other superheroes wear?"

    "Aliens don't really have super-."

    "Aah."

    We both turn to Hinon as a construct image of another Controller appears beside her.
     
    24th January
    03:34 GMT -8

    The completely generic construct Controller takes a moment to look at us, though he doesn't affect any particular emotion. 'Effigy' comes to attention slightly, so I'm going to assume that this is indeed the Controller he's affiliated to. Hinon looks.. mildly satisfied? I'm guessing that she was reasonably confident she knew who it was in advance and just got confirmation.

    "It appears, Jevek Jos Jar, that we have had a slight breakdown in communications."

    "That would imply that we were attempting to communicate. I have been occupied with my own research, as have you."

    "You were researching the Burning Martian?"

    "I am continuing to research the Burning Martian. I believe that I could use it as the basis for a new type of powerful and controllable weapon-servitor. In addition, I have been studying your own species. Amongst the range of 'meta human' abilities there were some that appeared to synergise well with certain aspects of martian physiology." The image turns to face Effigy. "Martyn van Wyck was a minor telekinetic-."

    I can't stop my face twitching at the idea of someone named 'Wyck' having hair made of fire. Wick, burning… Is it an aspect of the universe's magic I don't understand? Did the Controller go through a huge list of people with minor mental talents and pick the one with the best-sounding name?

    "Does this amuse you, Illustres?"

    "You gave a person called 'wick' fire powers." Mr van Wyck narrows his eyes for a moment, then shrugs. "I realise that some Maltusians lack a sense of humour-."

    "Yes, his name sounds somewhat like the English word 'wick', but that was not part of the selection criteria. His innate telekinetic abilities reduced the time it took for his brain to adapt to the modifications I made. That was why he was selected."

    "And you gave him a choice?"

    "He could have refused. A willing participant is far better placed to provide me with good data than one whose brain I have had to program in order to compel loyalty."

    "And the mission you gave him?"

    "Pirates are parasitical to interstellar trading routes. Your home Sector lacks a unifying military power strong enough to purge them, and its Lanterns are too frequently occupied dealing with emergencies to tackle the issue in a co-ordinated way."

    "And it's my home sector too. I don't want space pirates attacking Earth."

    "They don't.. generally.. attack planets. And if they were going to attack Earth they would have done so by now."

    "I simply sought to give him a target of no moral significance. Is there a reason why you are vexed by my choice?"

    "Mister van Wyck doesn't appear to have any training in conducting investigations. Were you.. expecting him to fly around until he encountered a crime in progress?"

    "The extent of his ability to locate his targets is a part of his assessment. It is also his responsibility rather than mine."

    I frown, then look at Hinon. "What, really? Controllers don't have any sort of 'best practice' rules?"

    She shakes her head. "You are more familiar with those Controllers directly associated with the war against the Reach. Since their objective is essentially political, they generally have more of a care for the look of the thing. But there is no requirement for Controllers to be involved in that war. Actually, taken over the whole of our history, I would say that it is Jevek's attitude that is the more usual."

    Marvellous.

    "Jevek, would you have any objection to Mister van Wyck getting advice or training?"

    "It is not ideal. I do not intend for my work to be subordinated."

    "Oh, not… This again."

    "Hinon?"

    "There were a great many research projects examining… The possibilities of developing exotic weapons to bring a more satisfactory end to the conflict with the Reach. But now that we have the Orange Central Power Battery and a Corps of our own-."

    "We do not own it. The Guardians would never grant their mortal agents the level of freedom which you did."

    "If you think that you can talk the Guardians into granting us access to the Green Central Power Battery then you are welcome to ask. As I have made very clear, the sorts of people who can use the orange light well would not respond productively to that level of external control." Hinon shakes her head in frustration. "My development of the Corps has resulted in a great many of those projects being rendered… Less important."

    "Lantern Corps are only able to recruit people with specific mental attributes. The Orange Lantern Corps is already encountering a bottleneck in its ability to recruit new members. Lanterns are superlative in situations where a wide variety of approaches are called for to effectively fight opponents of unpredictable capacity, which makes them ideal for policing. However, for open warfare what is required is not finesse but brutality. Destroying the Reach calls for forces whose damage output is not dependent on the warrior's mood."

    "That's.. why we're building a fleet."

    "A fleet which can be stopped by conventional interdiction systems unless it gets towed into position by Lanterns. My first attempt at modifying a human resulted in someone who can fly at faster than light speed using telekinesis, who can unleash levels of destruction which rival those of a Lantern and which are not dependent on his mood."

    Hinon frowns. "Are you trying to recreate the Sun-Eaters? There are reasons why we stopped using those."

    "The Guardians are less numerous now than they were when they formally objected to their existence. They are no longer in a position to press us over the issue."

    "Sir..? Sun-Eater?"

    "A synthetic life form the Controllers created. They used it to demolish star systems."

    "Which as far as the universe was concerned made us the enemy."

    "This model has nothing like the destructive capacity. He might scour a world of life but he will never be able to destroy an entire star system."

    "How much importance do you think that people will place upon that distinction?

    "You prefer to contain the Reach?"

    "I see little benefit in the slaughter of a defeated population."

    "Killing them ensures that they are defeated." He turns towards his subject. "Martyn van Wyck. I instruct you to resume your attacks."

    "Yes sir. Ah, but I think Orange Lantern was right about being more careful. Is it alright if I-?"

    "I leave the precise approach up to you."

    "Alright. I think-."

    "Warning: Will detected."

    We look up as Green Lantern John Stewart flies down towards us, green power armour covering his body. And I think he's wearing decent armour underneath it as well. I feel a little smug about that.

    "Somebody want to tell me what the hell is going on?"

    "Maltusian anti-piracy-."

    "This is not acceptable." Jevek turns to Mr van Wyck. "Leave. Now."

    Burning lights envelop Mr van Wyck-

    "Yes sir."

    -and he vanishes in a plume of fire. John's eyes go upwards and from the glow of his ring I can tell that he's thinking about doing the terrier thing and chasing after the person running from him. He shakes his head, and turns his attention to the three of us-.

    Jevek's construct dissipates.

    Two of us still present.

    "Keep talking."
     
    Last edited:
    24th January
    03:39 GMT -8

    "One of the Controllers took a human with weak telekinetic abilities, enhanced them to near-Lantern levels and now wants them to generate data on their combat effectiveness. By killing his way through this Sector's pirate groups." John looks fairly impassive at the news. "Unfortunately, he's had basically no training and doesn't appear to really understand the complexity of the task."

    "Does he work for you?"

    "No. He's not an Orange Lantern. He also doesn't work for the Darkstars or LEGION, where I could make a metaphorical call and get him new orders. The only person he regards as having authority over him is the Controller who gave him his powers."

    John turns to Hinon. "Can you give him orders?"

    "Since I didn't build him and I don't have any formal agreement with his master, no."

    "Why.. are you here?"

    "Hal put a redirect on the police chief's phone just in case any of his old enemies came here looking for him. And the League takes anything orange very seriously." He frowns. "Hey, weren't you supposed to be keeping watch on that Xor guy?"

    "He's looking after some suspected pirates." I hold out my left hand. "Illustres to Lantern Xor."

    A few moments pass, then a construct image of Lantern Xor appears.

    "Illustres."

    "The man I fought is calling himself 'Effigy'. He is obeying one of the Controllers, though he isn't a formal part of our organisation. He believes that the people you rescued are affiliated with pirates."

    "Should I kill them?"

    "Not unless they attack you with enough force to threaten you, or if you discover good evidence that they are murderers. Otherwise-. Were they Ungarans?"

    "Yes."

    "Go to Ungara and raise the matter with their police. Ungara's judicial system is a fair one. Oh, and once you hand them off, bring the ship there as well. They'll want to examine it."

    "And if 'Effigy' attacks me or those I hold?"

    "If that happens, notify me at the earliest opportunity. But nothing changes. Protect yourself and your charges as you think best. I would rather he be taken alive, but don't risk yourself or them to do it."

    He beats his fists against his chest. "I obey."

    "Thank-" The image disappears. "-you."

    John nods. "Okay, but what about the rest?"

    "I have to admit, I've focused my efforts on local and galactic issues. I don't know much about this Sector. How big a problem is piracy?"

    He shakes his head. "Not much. Long-distance shipping never really picked up after Devlos Ungol was defeated."

    "Wasn't that… A hundred and fifty years ago?"

    "He was a mass-murderer whose fleet devastated entire planetary populations. Plenty of species still haven't recovered. And those that still have starships use them for trading locally, with their own colonies and outposts."

    "Those that.. still have? How do you forget how to build starships?"

    "Devlos controlled worlds by bombarding them from orbit. They didn't forget, they just lost the industry they needed. And once he left, they were more concerned about things like food and shelter. Civilian infrastructure. Ships weren't a priority."

    "And… Pirates? I know that the Black Circle are the largest unified group, but where did they come from?"

    He shrugs. "Some of them are ships from planets that couldn't support them any more. Most of them used to be part of Devlos's fleet. Abin Sur and Starkaðr got most of them, but a Space Sector has a lot of room to hide in."

    "You and Jordan never took a crack at them?"

    "Sure, when we actually knew where they were. But we never had time to just take a few years away from our other work and hunt them all down." He gives me an appraising look. "You think you can do better?"

    "I think I don't want Mister van Wyck making a mess of things. He doesn't look particularly human but I'm sure by this stage 'humanoid in weird costume' makes everyone think 'human'."

    "Actually, I don't think most places in the Sector know we exist." He glances at the sky again, though Mr van Wyck has long since vanished. "What can that 'Effigy' guy do?"

    "Did you read our report on the Burning Martian?" He nods. "Mister van Wyck can make constructs out of-."

    "No, though I can see why you would think that." Hinon is looking at a construct image of him, her eyes narrowing as she studies it. "They aren't constructs. They appear to be made of telekinetically-excited skin. Or something like it. I would guess that Jevek created chimeric tissue -part human and part martian- and tied it into his molecular destabilisation effect. He's controlling it through telekinesis rather than emotional intent. He should have a finite volume of it, though of course he won't need to recharge from a personal lantern."

    "So he probably can't do complex devices that actually work, has no AI support and…" I frown. "Are Maltusians telepathic?"

    "Not in the classical sense, though most of us can rearrange the matter of someone's brain precisely enough to introduce new thoughts. Why?"

    "I didn't see a computer in his costume. I doubt that he's flying around without some sort of map…"

    "Neural program. Given how his brain was shapeshifting I'm sure it will take. I don't know how good his recall will be for new data, but I doubt that Jevek would be so incompetent as to set him loose with no direction but the starlight."

    I nod. "So we don't know what else Jevek gave him, knowledge wise, but he could be anywhere from completely ignorant of our abilities to fully briefed. His faster than light travel is slower than mine, though… I don't know how fast you are."

    "Is he telepathic?"

    I shrug. "Not that I noticed. Which is a nuisance, because I can disrupt telepathy. I haven't studied telekinesis in the same detail."

    "It's still a pain in the ass. You going after him?"

    "No. I think it would be a better use of my time to go after the pirates, given that he is merely misguided while the pirates are thieves and murderers. You?"

    "It's the middle of the night for me. If you're not about to start a war then I'm going back to bed."

    "Tomorrow? You know the Sector better than me, and I imagine that a Green Lantern will get a good deal more cooperation than I will."

    He glances at Hinon, who waves her right hand. "It would be awkward for me to directly oppose another Controller. In actual fact I'm about ready to head back to Maltus. I need to find out what else Jevek has been doing with himself."

    "Alright." John nods. "Midday. I'll meet you in the Mountain."

    "I'll look forward to working with you."
     
    24th January 2012
    22:17 GMT +7

    David Hyde stands before the monitors which would normally bear the silhouetted images of members of the Light. Sinestro shows me that he's uneasy, but neither his stance nor his facial expression give anything away. The fact that most of the monitors aren't lit up probably isn't helping. Of the original Light, only myself and Lex Luthor are still amongst the living, and I never had any contact with him.

    Mr Hyde orientates himself towards Lex's L-3 screen. "It's true, then."

    "Yes." Lex's silhouette glances toward my own. "All other then-current members of the Light were killed last year. They have since been replaced, but I felt that you would feel more comfortable dealing with people with whom you were already familiar."

    "Ordinarily, I'd say that as long as the work and the money keep coming, that wasn't my problem. But a lot of the things you've hired my men and I to do lately are things that the Justice League are likely to take an interest in. Or worse, Grayven."

    I have to mute my monitor.

    "If you want me to keep working for you, I want to change our relationship."

    Lex stares down at him for a few moments. "Very well. This is not entirely unexpected, and we are quite happy with your work so far. L Eight will discuss the matter with you further. If you elect not to continue in our employ, the balance of your outstanding fees will be paid by the end of the day and we will not contact you further."

    Mr Hyde stares up at the screen. "Alright. Will this be a face to face meeting?"

    I unmute my monitor. "If necessary. L Three, thank you for the introduction."

    "I'll leave it in your hands." Lex deactivates his monitor and Mr Hyde orientates fully on me.

    "You have some requests, Black Manta?"

    "Yes. I want to know who I'm dealing with."

    "We don't use these screens for decoration. The whole purpose of remaining anonymous is to prevent knowledge of our identities becoming widespread."

    "I know. I was hired by Ocean Master, and I knew that he was a member of the Light. After he died, Vandal Savage introduced himself. I'm not asking because I want leverage. I'm asking because it lets me know who I'm dealing with. It shows faith in my work and my professional integrity."

    "Oh, believe me, Black Manta, I understand where you're coming from. And you're right, it's perfectly reasonable."

    Mother Box, hush tube.

    Ping.

    My image on the monitor goes still as I step through into the room just behind him.

    "Is this-"

    He's diving forward, twisting in the air to bring his shoulder-mounted missile launcher to bear!

    I raise my eyebrows. "-better?"

    "Grayven. You got L Three as well."

    I fold my arms behind my back. "Oh, don't be absurd. I became L Eight by what passed for legitimate means, found out that most of my colleagues were morons and killed them. A good old fashioned internal coup."

    "But-. You had the Justice League, the whole world's police…"

    "Yes. What's the line?" I lean forward. "'The greatest trick the devil ever pulled…'"

    He looks shocked, and then more than a little impressed. "Was convincing the world he didn't exist."

    I grin. "I even got Batman to order me to infiltrate the Light."

    He pushes himself up slightly from where he landed. "And now you run it."

    I extend my right hand. "Would you like to get up? L Three wasn't lying. We are quite happy with your work." He doesn't take my hand, but he does pull himself upright. "Please, follow me."

    I turn around and walk back through the hush tube, heading towards the largest seat in the classically appointed study on the other side. This place used to belong to Savage, and didn't need all that much work to bring it up to spec. No Apokoliptian technology -that would be a bit of a giveaway- but high-end human technology doesn't result in me feeling like I'm slumming it. I turn and sit just as Mr Hyde walks through, then gesture to one of the guest chairs.

    "Please."

    Somewhat cautiously, he walks around and sits down.

    "So. You want more. Is it a matter of money? Because if so, I imagine that we can increase your remuneration somewhat."

    "No. I want more opportunities. A promotion. More information on what the Light is doing. I want to be a bigger part of what we're doing."

    "Really?"

    "Yes. I've been loyal-." I bow my head, chuckling to myself. "What's the joke?"

    "Loyal. Black Manta, what do you think the Light is?"

    "A global network of supervillains, centralising power for efficiency and effectiveness as a response to organisations like the Justice League."

    "And what is its guiding ideology?"

    He looks uncertain for a second before controlling his expression. But he doesn't have an answer.

    "The Light is most assuredly not a 'global network of supervillains', and if you think that then you need to stop reading so many comics. You're a professional mercenary. What have you got in common with a self-indulgent spree-killer like the Joker, or a self-centred apotheosis-seeker like Libra? Nothing. Trying to make you work together would be a ludicrous endeavour." I lean forward. "The goal of the Light is to ensure that humans are active participants in the future of their species. Yes, we use supervillain hirelings when it makes sense to do so. No, we don't intend to involve many of them in future decision making. Usually, the sort of person inclined to become a costumed criminal is temperamentally unsuited to it."

    "Its own future? What do you mean by that?"

    "If you became aware of a forthcoming alien invasion tomorrow, would you phone the Justice League… Or the Pentagon?"

    "Neither." His eyes narrow slightly. "But you're saying that we're replacing governments with superheroes. And those are harder to control."

    "No. It's not about control on a.. moment by moment basis. It's about who determines the shape of humanity's future. I don't think it should be men in tights. I think earning a piece of the universe should be a mass participation event. That is the Light's ideology."

    He nods slowly. "Luthor's space fleet."

    "It's in line with our beliefs."

    "Was I overthrowing governments so you can get cheaper raw materials?"

    "No. You killed the people you killed because they were a waste of space. Corruption might be useful in the short term, but in the longer term it's inefficient for the civilisation. Corruption hurts our interests in a thousand tiny ways, and my colleagues and I have a broad enough range of interests that we actually feel it."

    "So it wasn't about taking over their territory."

    "We've arranged for the governments to be reconstructed, but that doesn't mean that Light-affiliated corporations will make a killing. In the longer term, over a large enough area, honest dealing generates greater returns. Take your own work, for example. If someone hired you to transport an object whose value was greater than what they were paying you, would you steal it from them?"

    "No. That would kill my reputation. And if they could afford me, they could afford someone who could take a shot at me."

    "My colleagues and I think in a not dissimilar way about the world. So tell me, Black Manta: what can the Light do for you?"
     
    4th February 2012
    22:26 GMT +7

    I set the mug of coffee down on the low table between us. Mr Hyde looks at it for a moment, then his eyes come back to me.

    "Not drinking anything yourself?"

    "Worried about poison, Mr Hyde?" I retake my seat opposite him. "If I wanted to kill you, I assure you, I wouldn't bother with that."

    He picks up the mug and takes a sniff. "No, that was just a social enquiry. Since this appears to be an informal meeting."

    Fair enough. I shrug. "I don't drink coffee. I don't like the taste. Fruit juice, milk, squash… It always feels a bit weird, drinking things like that with supervillains, but at home I like to set a good example for my children."

    "You run a dry house?"

    "I cook with wine or beer sometimes, but I don't.. drink. And those amongst my retainers who do have clear instructions to avoid doing so around my children." He takes a small sip while maintaining careful eye contact, then sets the mug back down on the table. I make a sort of opening flower gesture with my hands. "So. Any ideas yet? I appreciate that it's a lot to take in."

    "I want to join the Light. I appreciate that you'll want greater signs of commitment from me, to test that I've got what it takes-." I exhale slightly too sharply. "What is it this time?"

    "Why?"

    "Why.. join? Because the guy at the top gets the biggest payout. You told me that the Light's interests are so broad that some third world shit heap being corrupt cuts into your profits. That level of international power is something I want to work towards."

    "I.. fear that you've got the wrong end of the stick, Mister Hyde. While.. some members of the Light benefit financially from their membership, it isn't.. actually by all that much. Personally, for example, I'm out of pocket. Only.. one of our members has profited substantially, and all we did there was ease the way for a product that was already excellent."

    "Then what are you doing?"

    "Hm." I sit back slightly. "Where do you see your descendants being in five hundred years' time?"

    A slight twist on the classic interview question, but one which throws him slightly. Not that he shows it much. "Because if I don't take the human race's future into my hands…"

    I'm already shaking my head.

    "Put it this way: will they have the slightest idea who David Hyde was? And do you care?"

    "You're trying to get your name into the history books?"

    I shrug. "My species… Well, the Elite of my species, live indefinitely. In five hundred years, I fully expect I'll be around to see the results of our actions. We're investing in human civilisation, and what we get from that isn't necessarily money." I wave my right hand expansively. "If I were to give you… Say… Ten billion dollars. What would you do with it?"

    "Build my own base. Upgrade my sub. Make enough legitimate investments that I could conceal my income."

    "I'm not hearing anything you couldn't do with fifty million there, but alright. Keep doing the same thing you're doing now, but with more in the bank? A man who invests wisely can live his entire life on considerably less than fifty million. You could buy a new face, a new ID, go somewhere where they don't care about certain shipping-related criminal acts that may have occurred in your past. You could do… Anything."

    "Alright then. What should I want to do?"

    "There's nothing wrong with wanting that. Work for us, and if you want a base, we can make that happen. Better weapons and equipment? Since we're now having a face-to-face relationship, there is no reason for us not to make certain exotic pieces of technology available to you. Concealed income? Please." I lean forward. "But if you want to join the Light, anything. Not nothing. People join the Light because they want something money can't buy. Renown. Acclaim. Political and social influence. A place in the history books. To ensure a particular vision of the future of mankind. Out of a sense of responsibility. Just for fun, even. Being a member of the Light gives you a chance to make things happen. But it isn't cheap. I'm not threatening to blackball you, Mister Hyde. But if there isn't anything in those categories that you actually want, you might be better off where you are now."

    He nods, sitting back and taking another sip of his coffee as he mulls it over.

    "You knew what I was going to ask."

    He says it as a statement, but I nod anyway. "Not for certain, but it was one of the likely lines of enquiry."

    "And if you knew I was going to ask, you've got offers prepared."

    I shrug. "My knowledge of you is far from perfect. But… Just as I have devices in an isolated warehouse I could show you if you requested technology, I have a… Few suggestions, if you're looking for something of greater personal value."

    He makes eye contact again. "Tell me."

    "I understand that you have a son."

    He doesn't flinch, but he does go rather still.

    "My children are adopted." I shake my head. "I never met their natural parents, and as I understand it they did the best job they could. Your ex-paramour and.. cabin boy, on the other hand-."

    "I'm not sure he's even mine."

    "Ah! Then congratulations." I hold out my right hand, transmute a blue ribbon banded cigar into being and pass it to him. "It's a boy."

    "You're sure?"

    "Ring-scan DNA check. Not.. one hundred percent reliable, but certainly more reliable than, say, human blood tests."

    "I haven't even met him." I smi-. "What? You can make that happen? Make eighteen years of me not being there just disappear? My father had me leading strike teams at his age."

    "He's been leading a team of superheroes as an Atlantean military officer. His skills aren't in question." I lean back. "It's tricky, isn't it? Forming personal relationships when your face is so well known? As a criminal? Not just.. hiring a prostitute or whatever when the urge arises, but forming a bond with someone of worth? Someone whom you wouldn't mind being the mother of your heir?"

    "If you're got a proposal to make, make it."

    "I can get you a pardon for those crimes you and yours have committed against Atlantis. Not without conditions, but nothing that would disrupt the work you're doing for the Light. I can get you a meeting with Kaldur'ahm. I can't build a relationship for you, but I've found that building a relationship with one's offspring is rewarding in itself. And… Once you're no longer being hunted with quite the intensity you are now… Certain things become possible that are now… Difficult."

    He raises his eyebrows. "You trying to play matchmaker?"

    "I know a lot of people… Have contacts in places where you don't. I suspect that a corporate mixer of Light contractors would be a lively gathering, but I'd be happy to make introductions. Or not, as you see fit. But you're not getting any younger, and I imagine that you'd want to be more involved in the early life of your second child than you were in that of your first. And have their mother be a little more understanding about the nature of your business."

    He stares at me, perhaps trying to decide whether he'd live if he lunged across the room at me.

    Then he looks aside, chuckling quietly. "Oh, you're good."

    "No. Not 'good'. Never 'good'. After all, I'm only human."

    He frowns faintly. Oh, right.

    "Metaphorically speaking."

    "So how's this going to work?"

    "I don't believe that you have any outstanding operations at the moment. Is that correct?" He nods. "Then it's time to put on a grey hat. Head to the east coast of Africa. Find someone… Illegally dumping toxic waste. Seize the ship and fully record everything they were doing. I will arrange to have the crew picked up and arrested."

    "Am I doing this pro bono?"

    "Of course not. I'm paying you. Our aim here is to portray you as what you are: a capable mercenary, whose crimes mostly involved being on the unpopular side of civil disputes. Meanwhile, I will be boning up on Atlantean legal precedence and arranging an appointment with King Orin."

    "You really think he'll pardon me?"

    I shrug nonchalantly. "We'll see."
     
    24th January
    11:57 GMT -5

    Canis nods. "Pirates are cultural parasites. It is entirely correct to kill them."

    "Okay, but firstly-. "

    He shakes his head in irritation. "Yes, I am aware that it is necessary to prove their guilt. But I suspect that you would prefer to imprison and rehabilitate them."

    "That depends on what they've done. My actual intent is to hand any I capture over to the authorities who have jurisdiction over the offence, and in doing so reinforce their authority."

    "Why not simply request that they devolve that authority to you?"

    "Because I have no existing relationship with those governments. And it's a bit of a big deal to give that authority to someone you don't know."

    He frowns. "If they post public bounties, those would usually specify their conditions. If approaching them as an official of your Corps creates additional work, why bother with it?"

    "Because not all pirates will have public bounties, and I'll be working with a Green Lantern."

    "Then that is even easier. The people of this region revere Green Lanterns. Simply have him strike an agreement. Or if they are in need of aid in rebuilding their civilisations, offer that as part of a package which sees them agreeing to have the Orange Lantern Corps provide security during their reconstruction. Xalitan Xor and Mother of Mercy can both afford to spend their time on pirate suppression duties."

    "I'm.. not sure that I want to leave-"

    "Recognised, Green Lantern, one four. Identity confirmed."

    "-Lantern Xor unsupervised."

    John strides into the Mountain's training area and gives me a nod. "You ready?"

    "Naturally. Where would you like to start?"

    "Xor's on Ungara, isn't he?"

    I nod. "That sounds like a good place to start. Have you ever visited?"

    "Once." He nods. "Hal wanted to introduce me to their government. The Green Lantern Corps has an official liaison there."

    "I haven't… How does the Green Lantern Corps usually conduct anti-piracy operations?"

    "That depends on what treaties the Guardians have with the local worlds. In this Sector we usually hand whoever we catch over to the nearest world."

    "No marooning?"

    He shakes his head. "That might have been an option right after Devlos was defeated, if the resources had been available to set up a colony. They weren't, and right now I don't think anyone would be prepared to make the offer. There aren't that many inhabitable worlds around here that aren't claimed by somebody." He looks at me for a moment. "Though if you're thinking about repeating what you did on the Citadel-."

    "No, no." I raise my right hand in mock-surrender. "Even if I wanted to -which I don't- I wouldn't expect you to go along with it."

    "Good."

    "Canis, would you be so good as to open a boom tube to Ungara?"

    "Do they have art galleries?"

    I look at John and raise my eyebrows slightly.

    "Uh, yeah, I think so."

    "Then I will accompany you." He taps his Mother Box, and a glowing portal-

    BOOM!

    -booms into existence just in front of us. "I am interested to see what sort of art is produced by a people who have seen such a reversal of fortune." He pulls himself up into Brut's saddle. "I expect most of it will be trite and uninspired, but there is always room for something truly reflective."

    John glances at me, but I just smile at Canis. "What did you mean about pirates being 'cultural parasites'? I assumed you were talking about them stealing from more productive sections of society, but-."

    "No. No!" He actually glares at me. "A single inspired murder has more artistry to it than a hundred bland watercolours." John actually takes a step away from him and slightly raises his ring-hand. "But the actions of pirates are driven by economic systems they have no interest in understanding. Their murders are economic, their aims too base for grand hatreds or practical ironies. Their voyages seldom go beyond hunting grounds they know, as risk is death when all hands are raised against you. And they certainly do not create amongst themselves." He shakes his head sadly. "If you find their bases, search them. You will not find a great work. Nay, nor even a single bland watercolour."

    "I'll take a look and report back to you."

    I rise off the floor and fly through the tube aperture and out over the Ungaran surface. And it's… Mountainous? Ungara isn't really much better off than the Sector's other planets. Despite being spared from Devlos's direct assault, his forces wrecked the network of reflective satellites they used to raise the planet's temperature. As a result, the temperature dropped globally, and while that might have been survivable the sudden shift in heat patterns caused massive continent-enveloping blizzards. Political unity shattered, and while Abin Sur was popular enough to keep things from getting out of hand while he was alive, after his death things got a bit stupid. Some idiot decided that shooting out the satellites was a clever thing to do, and another round of world-blizzards later wrecked their society all over again.

    Brut canters through the portal behind me as I rise up into the sky. The cities on Ungara's surface these days look like a series of giant igloos, designed to allow the winds to flow around them and to provide the best possible insulation to their inhabitants. Now that everyone's gotten it into their heads that shooting the things keeping them from freezing is a bad idea, there's no real reason why they couldn't repair everything.

    Maybe I can use this as an example for Xor..?

    John flies through the portal, and Canis glances back to make sure that he's completely through before shutting it down. Brut sniffs at the snow covering the rocky ground for a moment as his master takes it all in.

    "Is there any game worth hunting? I have found Earth's game-animals disappointing."

    He was rather put out when Batman turned down his request to train against blockbuster-enhanced bears, but was forced to admit that they probably wouldn't have been that much of a challenge. Barda pre-emptively banned him from cloning dinosaurs.

    "Not around here. We're too close to the equator for any of the original ecosystems to have survived."

    Because when giant blizzards eat your planet, they don't respect pre-climate control boundaries, and while animals from the frozen regions could -to a degree- cope, plants and animals from the balmy equatorial region by and large couldn't. The region isn't completely dead, but that's mostly due to the efforts of the locals in reintroducing things to the wild.

    "Disappointing." He rides Brut to a small promontory and sights the city. "Perhaps a ride will give me a better impression of the place." Show Me Beauty!

    Brut dashes, the hulking canine moving swiftly across the snow with a lightness of foot which belies his size.

    "Illustres to Lantern Xor." Xor's face appears above my first ring. "Any trouble?"

    "They do not believe that I am a Lantern."

    "The universe has known only Green Lanterns for millions of years. It's hardly surprising that they're a bit slow on the uptake."

    "So it is not an insult to my honour? They are not accusing me of taking a title that is not mine to claim, they are simply ignorant?"

    "I.. think that's most likely. Xor, have you done something rash?"

    "I was mindful of your words, and used nothing stronger than harsh language."

    "Good, I'm pleased. Lantern Stewart and I will be with you shortly."

    "I will await your arrival."
     
    24th January
    18:06 GMT

    Lantern Xor is standing at what I suspect to be parade rest just outside the local military barracks. A small group of ungarans appear to be taking a moment away from their regular tasks to stare at him, while Xor himself is just ignoring them. Huh, I suppose they didn't know until just now that other colours of Lantern exist. Though-.

    "Has Sinestro ever come here?"

    "Not since he went bad." John still flies in the swimming position, going vertical only when he lands. "That I know about."

    "I was just thinking: he was married to Arin Sur. He probably visited, right?"

    "I guess." John shrugs as we walk towards Xor. "I never met him. You wanna know about his personal life, you should talk to Hal."

    Xor takes a look around and then marches over to meet us. "Illustres. Orders?"

    Out of the corner of my eye I see more locals gather, those already here using personal communicators or taking pictures. Funny thing is, while they're far more technologically advanced than humans are, the damage Ungara has taken to its industrial base means that I can recognise a lot of the technology. Simpler things are easier to make. Why build a Bleed-tech communicator when there's now plenty of room in the electromagnetic spectrum and radio-based communicators are a fraction of the cost? Similarly, though there are a plethora of different synthetic cloths they could use to keep themselves warm, local wool variants are far more popular. I guess it's.. a post-apocalyptic thing, though I'm a little surprised that things haven't shifted a little more towards pre-Devlos norms yet.

    "Lantern Stewart has a government contact. We're going to get a situation update and then go from there."

    Xor nods, and John takes the lead as we head into the air and towards a bulky building near the city centre.

    "Lantern Xor, wasn't it?"

    Xor looks at me for a second before answering. "Yes."

    "Paul says you were a soldier. You do any anti-piracy work before?"

    "No. Warhounds are heavy assault infantry, not marines. Pirate ships are best fought by warships."

    "You don't board them?"

    Just for a second, Xor looks at him in confusion. "I was a soldier, not an officer."

    "And?"

    "I was not taught strategy. I don't know why our commanders would want to attack pirate ships with infantry. I just know they didn't use my unit for it."

    "Yeah, realistically, boarding isn't really a 'thing' in space warfare. It's easier to just shoot your target than go through all the effort of getting someone on board a ship that's.. probably trying quite hard to evade you. Even for pirates, it's usually far easier to pick up valuables after destroying the ship. Pretty much the only reason to even try is if you're trying to capture the ship intact or take someone alive, and doing it successfully requires a combination of high technology and a disregard for the life of the boarders that not a lot of people have. Citadelians used to do it, but they used teleporters and didn't expect to get their boarding teams back."

    John frowns. "I've boarded ships before."

    "You have a power ring. Most navies can't equip their soldiers to quite that level." We land in front of the well-insulated front entrance, the soldiers on guard duty nodding respectfully at John as we head inside. Xor only has to duck a little. "Who are we here to see?"

    "Prefect Malo. After the time he got ordered to kidnap Hal, he volunteered to act as go-between whenever we needed to work with the Ungaran government. I called ahead, so-."

    One set of internal doors opens and a heavily-built ungaran man in a lighter variant of the uniform the soldiers outside were wearing comes through. "Lantern Stewart."

    John nods. "Prefect."

    Prefect Malo looks at Xor and I curiously. "I.. wasn't aware that power rings came in other colours."

    "Most people aren't. I'm the Illustres of the Orange Lantern Corps. This is my trainee, Lantern Xor."

    "Is this your first time on Ungara?"

    "I'm afraid so. I don't strictly speaking have Sector-wide responsibilities, but I'll.. give you an emergency beacon before I leave."

    A slight rise in his eye ridges. Yes, alright, I know that Jordan got his knuckles rapped on several occasions for ignoring the rest of his Sector. That was part of why he gave up having a full time job in addition to his Lantern Corps work. And… Yes, I was calling myself Orange Lantern 2814. But it's not like I ever told them that.

    He smiles politely. "It would save me from having to grab you off the street."

    "Do you have any problems that require my immediate attention?"

    "No, I don't believe so. Not unless you're an expert in altering climate systems."

    Hm. Mother of Mercy has finished spinning up Mars's core, and is helping the locals install the telekinetic system they're going to use to concentrate the atmosphere. But they don't need her for that. Mars doesn't have a surface population, and as far as I can tell Martians regard the changes their world is undergoing with hope-tinged disinterest. There's no real reason I couldn't send her this way for a month or two.

    "I'm not, but I do have one on staff. I'll send her your way."

    "Thank you. But what brings you here today?"

    "A guy calling himself 'Effigy' is going after the Black Circle Syndicate. Unfortunately, no one trained him to tell who's a pirate and who isn't."

    "Ah. A bounty hunter?"

    John shakes his head. "Some guy with a weapon. If he was a professional I wouldn't be so worried. What sort of shipping do you have going on at the moment?"

    "Not a great deal. We have a small number of ships we use for local patrols and repairing the solar reflectors. There's a mining station in our asteroid belt with a few hundred robot miners, and… That's it." I frown, and he notices. "We never went in for off-world colonisation, and our only significant space colony was destroyed by the Traitor. We don't really have any reason to send ships anywhere else."

    "No unexplained disappearances from amongst your fleet?"

    "We never found out exactly what happened to every ship the Traitor destroyed, but if you mean recently?" He shakes his head. "Not to my knowledge. I can check, but we really aren't a good raiding target."

    John nods. "I'd appreciate it."

    He nods and walks over to a terminal. "The only thing worth a pirate group taking interest in would be the wrecks left over from the Traitor's fleet."

    "You didn't try salvaging them?"

    "They were booby trapped. But to someone who had the codes, they probably represent a lot of money. Hm."

    "Find something?"

    "No, not really. There's been a slight increase in robot miners being disabled." He shrugs. "It happens. I doubt that it really means anything. They don't have shields, so small asteroids are a constant danger. It's generally more efficient to keep them simple and repair or replace them."

    "It won't hurt us to take a look."

    He nods. "I'll let the crew know that you're coming."

    I frown. "No… Don't do that."

    He looks at me with a frown. "Do you have a reason to suspect them?"

    "Nothing specific, but I'd rather take a look around without anyone tipping them off. Just in case."

    He nods. "Very well. I will need to notify the picket guarding the wrecks if you're planning on going there."

    John nods. "Can you notify just their commander?"

    "If you think that's best. Is there anything else?"
     
    24th January
    18:17 GMT

    What a fascinating sight. The Ungaran Commodore is an ambitious woman. The strongest desire is to seize the drifting hulks, repair them and then spread out from Ungara. I hadn't known this until I saw it written in her soul, but apparently this region had some rather strong arms limitation treaties prior to Devlos Ungol's rampage. She believes that the best way to prevent a repetition of that event is to increase Ungara's military power and that utilising the mothballed ships her fleet guards would be the best way to do that. Even knowing how many ungarans died last time they tried boarding the ships. Respect to her though, she wants to lead the boarding missions in person, so it isn't a case of her being willing to throw other people's lives away.

    I step back in

    a short distance away from her, my armour's stealth and phasing systems activating immediately. The picket fleet's sensors might have detected something at the moment of my arrival, but I would be very surprised if they can detect me as I am now. No… The ships don't appear to be reacting. I turn in the direction of the largest surviving ship and use my ring's flight system to accelerate towards it. As I'm having the flight aura cover the armour's interior there isn't any visible glow, though I might be in a spot of bother if these ships have still-functional phase-defences.

    I activate my armour's fracture-pulse communication.

    "Heading to the ships."

    "We're coming up to the mining station now. Xor, you alright checking the robots?"

    "Yes."

    There's a moment of silence before John realises that's all he's getting.

    "Okay, I'll interview the crew. If anything's going on, they should feel okay talking to a Green Lantern."

    "Either that, or get nervous enough that you spot it."

    "I don't think it will come to that. I don't see Ungarans willingly working with the Traitor's fleet."

    "Hopefully not. Xor, you got the schematics for the robots?"

    "Yes." A slight pause. "What are my orders?"

    "We need information more than we need dead pirates, at least in the short term."

    "Am I authorised to perform identity thefts?"

    "If in your judgement it is necessary, yes. However, I don't think we're under any time pressure here. I can be with you in a moment to brand them, and they don't have anywhere to run."

    "Understood. Living prisoners."

    "Now hold on. We don't know that anyone's done anything yet."

    "I am a soldier. Civil policing is new to me. I want clear orders."

    "I was a soldier before I was a Lantern. I didn't need to be told not to brainwash people."

    "I could apply the rules of my people. I do not think you would like them."

    "He probably wouldn't. Xor, while Lantern Stewart isn't in your chain of command, he does have considerably more experience of this type of work than you. It would be wise to follow his example."

    "Understood."

    "Illustres out."

    The ship is coming up now. The Traitor's fleet tended to build their battleships as artillery platforms, giving them a much flatter shape than those used by the Citadel. They also have a smaller number of far larger guns, a smaller troop complement in exchange for more powerful shields, better sensors for worse FTL preparation time. I'm slightly reminded of the difference between Imperial Titans and Ork Gargants, though that isn't.. entirely correct. None of that ship's guns are tracking me, though I know from Ungaran records that its point defences are still active in places.

    And why not just shoot them out? Or destroy the ships? Well, that's to do with why Devlos Ungol is called 'The Traitor' in the first place. His own people did it because he turned the suit of super-armour his world's military built for him against them-.

    I frown. Ring, did the people of Tartarath ever produce any other sun-draining artefacts or similar technology?

    No records of such technology exist in this ring's database.

    That's suspicious as heck. I mean, they never made more and everyone's been assuming that was because he killed the people who made it and he didn't want anyone around who could threaten him. But what if they received the technology from elsewhere? They didn't make more because they couldn't, they just.. had armour and the question was whether or not to use it at all?

    Qward might do something like that, but it seems out of character for other examples not to have shown up by now. And-. The other most likely suspect would be a human if this was happening now, but the gap of two hundred years pretty much puts us out of the running. I can't.. think of anyone else with sun-eating abilities…

    Doctor Sivana said that the sun in the Sheeda's era looked wrong-. No, no, Sheeda technology has a distinct look, and there's no evidence that they have conventional faster than light technology. Actual Sun Eaters don't work like that, Wotan was using magic… No, nothing's coming to me.

    Anyway, the reason why everyone else calls him that is his habit of engaging in 'population reduction' even on worlds that surrendered to him without a fight. He would gleefully agree to any terms they asked, and then betray them. His general attitude appears to have been that since no one could hurt him he might as well do whatever suited his fancy moment by moment. There was even a record of an uprising on his command ship that he ignored as it went on around him and those loyal to him died to a man and only then did he take action.

    Which was activating the ship's self destruct and flying out of the explosion like nothing happened.

    This ship is the Sureshot, and is known to have destroyed at least twenty capital ships and three continents. There's a gash where the bridge was holed and craters where several of the main guns used to be, but the ship is otherwise intact. Devlos set the internal defences to kill the crews in the event of his death and only a handful were ever recovered alive.

    Mildly depressed that such a total shit got as far as he did…

    Copying what the salvage teams did I float in through the hole in the bridge. The first thing they attempted to do was connect to the central computer core through the bridge consoles, which was when they first came under attack. The Ungaran marines destroyed the guns at the cost of five of their number. Other weapons deployed -arc wands and plasma sinks- but they were stymied by the lack of an atmosphere.

    Ring, status of ship systems?

    No automated repair detected. Known weapons remain destroyed.

    Okay. The Commodore knows not to look too closely in this direction…

    I phase in, stealth systems still active, and use the ring to take control of the sensors the Ungarans left to monitor the wreck. Not reporting changes. Warship hulls are pretty good insulators so even if the interior does light up it won't be easy for them to detect it.

    Unless I trigger the auto-destruct. Though even the Traitor didn't design his ships to be able to destroy themselves instantly, so I should just be able to pop back into the Honden and avoid the blast. The Ungaran ships are far enough away that -based on what is known from the ships destroyed during the war- they should be out of range. And I think should because the man's armour literally sucked stars dry and made him invincible and when that's the known top level it's hard to put hard numbers on the potential output of an explosive you haven't reviewed personally.

    I look over to the bridge door the Ungarans breached. They set up an emergency airlock, cut through without much difficulty, and two died as the metal within connected to the ship's power distribution system and electrocuted them. I phase through the outer airlock door and look at the breach hole for a moment. No electricity running through it now, and no sign that anyone has been here since. And since my armour is heavily insulated…

    I reach out and tap the ragged cut in the door. Hm, that should have destroyed any sensors the ship's computer had built into the structure of the door, and since I'm still pretty much invisible its interior cameras shouldn't be able to see me. The airlock is keeping the atmosphere in, though it's a little thin…

    No electricity.

    Okay. I cautiously float through the hole and into the ship's interior.
     
    24th January
    18:23 GMT

    The corridors are wide. On a Citadelian ship that would be to allow large numbers of marines in heavy armour to move from place to place at speed. Here, it's to allow engineers to move parts from place to place without having to clear the decks first. Without a real home base for a lot of the time, Devlos's fleet habitually made repairs in space rather than at anchor. That's probably another reason for the flatter shape, actually: getting components to the interior of a ship can be a pain, so they designed a ship with a reduced interior space. Anything that has to go inside goes in through the closest entrance and gets conveyed down the corridors while anything that can be worked on from the exterior is.

    The Ungarans made it about halfway down this corridor before the artificial gravity shot up to fifteen times normal and the turrets deployed to kill them. They were only able to recover the bodies later because the guns have a limited arc of fire and the gravity plates could only sustain that intensity for a relatively brief time before needing to shut down. The survivors on the bridge basically fired grappling guns down from the airlock to drag the corpses out, and that was the last time they tried breaching one of these ships.

    Still no reaction to my presence. I take a moment to look at the bloodstains left by the fallen salvage engineers. They died here but their bodies were returned to Ungara-. My eyes move to a stain of a decidedly different colour. And the crew who were murdered by their own ship. The Ungarans took their remains as well. I don't think.. they're a particularly religious people, but the cultural files on John's ring made it clear that they've developed a form of secular ungaranism which involves respecting the remains of the dead. This shouldn't be a case for Hades, but… Perhaps I should get someone to check, just in case.

    The ship's sensors are positioned as far away from the main guns as possible so that they aren't blinded by their own weapons' fire. Bridge a little back from the sensors because they needed to make sure that flashbacks from destroyed primary weapons didn't kill the command crew, but also wanted to ensure that the bridge was well protected enough to prevent decapitation strikes. Crew quarters towards the outer hull, because in a fight those are basically an ablative layer protecting the vital systems. Main reactor close to the main FTL drive and main guns to reduce energy loss in transmission.

    So where's the central computer core? It can't be too close to the guns for the same reason as the bridge, but it can't be too close to the bridge either because the ship can be controlled from either location but is mission-killed if they're both lost. Tending the core requires highly skilled specialists, but it doesn't require all their time, so the core goes near other parts of the ship that require their skills. In the case of the ships of Devlos's fleet, that generally involved putting waste processing and the ship's workshop there, the first requiring pipe connections to every toilet and kitchen on the ship and the second requiring good access pathways because if one of your primary weapons goes wrong you don't want to make it hard for the people with the replacement parts to get to it.

    So it should be near the centre of the ship. The scans the Ungarans took before they abandoned salvage efforts certainly implied that this ship had a standard layout. The bridge computers have already disconnected from it, which is a standard procedure for ships crippled in combat. Since the computer should be relatively intact, I'm hopeful that it will have data on fleet support bases which might still survive. Failing that, it should be connected to the ship's internal monitoring systems, so if anyone has been in here it will have a record of the fact.

    Ring, anything here that can't be explained by the presence of known salvage crews and ship crews?

    No unidentified biological material present- Images of engineer personnel files and crew autopsies and provisional identifications appear in my mind's eye as my ring identifies them. -which can reliably be identified- Particulates of dead skin which have evaded the atmosphere scrubbers but don't belong to known crew members are highlighted, along with their probable species. -as post-dating the ship's destruction.

    Hm.

    I take a phasing drone out of subspace and send it directly towards where I think the computer core is. That should confirm the location and status of the thing. Ring, scan all adjacent sections of the ship. Anything stand-

    All of the guns in the corridor deploy, and my armour registers the destruction of the drone.

    -out?

    The guns spray the corridor with fire, particle beams lashing the interior walls more or less at random until one slashes across my right arm. Then they all immediately focus their efforts on my location, even as I abandon stealth and create construct armour around me. Some damage to the armour, but then, that's what it's there for. The internal weapons aren't all that powerful-

    I fire off a series of destructive pulses, each one punching through the weak force field protecting a gun and destroying it.

    -compared to some of the more powerful weapons I've taken hits from. As far as I can tell, these were only here to slaughter the unarmoured crew. Actual anti-boarding defences -amongst the few places that actually use them- aren't positioned like this, the power connections they require are too awkward for anything with serious killing power. Marines are almost always a more reliable bet, though if Devlos felt differently I'm going to need to be a bit careful when I get closer to the computer core. There are all sorts of things an inventive shit like him could have set up.

    But since I'm made anyway…

    "Ship, respond."

    I destroy the last gun in this section and brace for a follow up.

    "Green Lantern. I had wondered what I would have to do to elicit a response from you."

    Devlos Ungol's voice. The computer has probably decided that I'm similar enough that it should play a recorded message.

    "And if you're too cowardly to face me yourself-"

    "Devlos Ungol died two hundred years ago."

    "-then I will make this ship your tomb."

    "I'm not a Green Lantern and you're dead!"

    No, no point arguing with the computer. I create a railgun construct, use crumbler rounds to shoot out the bulkhead blocking the way further into the ship's interior, dismiss my constructs and reactivate my stealth systems.

    "Shields are now at full combat power-"

    Darn it, there's no way the Ungarans will miss that. Assuming that it's actually happened and isn't just what's supposed to happen in the event of a Green Lantern getting on board. Ring?

    "-and my entire fleet has been notified! Your-"

    Annoying as it is, I should leave it running. Just in case he says something useful.

    "-destruction is inevitable, and all you hold dear will follow soon after! The natural state of the universe is bloody slaughter! All else is deceit and madness!"

    Eris save me from the hammy ones. No… No, this probably isn't ham. He probably means every word. It's just that after you hear the same nonsense from enough people it becomes hard to tell which of them are just saying it to sound important and which genuinely believe it.

    "When I kill you, all those you protect will finally understand! Know in your final moment, Starkaðr-"

    "He's dead too."

    "-that your tomb will be my greatest triumph!"

    I exit that corridor and fly out into a small room with a heavy goods lift. As part of the internal reinforcement measures the ship is split into sections with thick armour between each one. Having one long corridor from the bow to the stern would introduce a massive structural weakness.

    I'd have to be stupid to get into that lift. On the other hand, I can't safely phase through the hull of a ship with phase defences, not unless I want a repeat of the Louvre. I generate a crumbler gauntlet construct and wait to see if that provokes a response from the computer.

    …

    No, looks like it's decided that it can't hurt me with the weapons it has on hand. I slap the gauntlet forward, crumbling the armoured shutter over the lift shaft. Another couple of slaps on the interior destroy the mechanisms anchoring the lift in place and send it plummeting down the shaft.

    Right, there will probably be more guns in the shaft, but it doesn't have a better power supply than the nearby sections so they shouldn't be any bigger than the ones that just did nothing to me. I dismiss my gauntlet construct and float forward and the remains of the lift hit the bottom of the shaft. Bit surprised that they bothered putting artificial gravity in the lift shaft, but it's not like anything else Devlos did makes sense to me.

    I drop down the shaft.
     
    24th January
    18:27 GMT

    Another crumbler-slap and I'm out into another room, this time with three corridors leading off from it. Left is labelled 'Main Sensors', right is 'Biological Processing', which is probably sewage, and straight forward with the widest corridor is 'Component Warehouse'. Alright, yes, I suppose that it makes sense that they wouldn't link directly to the place where they manufactured them. Far easier to have the manufacturers build up a stock and have technicians install them as needed.

    I'm still stealthed, still not putting weight on anything… The ship can detect power ring scans, which… I knew was possible, but I'm not scanning now and I shot out every door on the way down. And the one for the level beneath this one. So it shouldn't know where I am at the moment. The warehouse shouldn't have better connections to the main generator than anywhere else.

    Shouldn't.

    I fly forward, and-. Ah, the first body of a crewman that I've seen so far. A dull-blue skinned humanoid… Male? With a floating platform loaded with electronic components. The internal door to the warehouse has made a spirited attempt to slice him and his space trolley in half, but appears to have failed part way through. Either that or the computer decided not to bother. In theory these doors are supposed to be able to slam closed to prevent decompression, but there's a limit to how hard they can actually close. It's not completely surprising that someone was here, the ship was in combat when Starkaðr and Abin Sur slew Devlos-.

    Huh. Wonder how that worked. I know that Green Lanterns aren't supposed to kill people, but I doubt that the Guardians would have investigated too hard if one of them reported back that Devlos was 'a victim of circumstance'. Perhaps if they blasted him into a main reactor which suffered a critical containment failure. If they weren't specifically trying to kill him…

    …

    Am I making a false assumption there? Did they leave him alive? In a Sciencell? That would be a very Green Lantern thing to do. But wouldn't John have said something? Or… Jordan got Abin Sur's ring. Guy got Starkaðr's. John's is relatively… John's first ring is on Hinon's finger, and was new. His current one is even more new. It's possible that the relevant information hasn't been loaded onto it. Okay, when I get out, ask him to request all data concerning the case from Clarissi Salaak.

    I fly over the body and into the warehouse. Larger pieces of equipment are neatly stacked on heavily-built shelves near the entrance, while smaller shelves further in contain smaller and more delicate components. The avenues between shelves are clear except for the bodies, each… Looks like it was shot repeatedly while on the deck. Ring, any irregularities?

    Genetic traces of unclear origin detected.

    Show me.

    Huh. Well, we might not know who they are, but plenty of people would have come through here each day. It's not really-.

    That one's ungaran. That's-. No, no, the ungarans weren't always limited to their homeworld, there are plenty of reasons why a genetic trace from one might be here. Record it and see if it matches any of the dead crew I find later.

    Confirmed.

    A couple of the bodies in this room have outstanding bounties. I'm sure that Ungara can use the money, so I do the necessary scans to confirm their identities. Take an inventory or move on? Obviously I don't know exactly what's supposed to be here, but this is a great place for looting if you can actually get here. Hm. I fly down an aisle, having the ring take note of everything still here. I'm not seeing any obvious holes in the stock. Would the stock list be separate from the central computer? Are any of the corpses carrying personal devices? I stop to check one. Ah, yes, but the automatic guns shot them.

    Hm. I don't remember seeing any damage to the ship's sensors. Not externally, anyway. So why are the trays containing parts for the FTL sensor system almost empty? Both the parts for the sensors themselves and for the computer systems that take that data and turn it into a picture of the universe. That's all reasonably valuable, but neither unique or the most expensive thing here. They… Might have been partway through a major refit, or… Just wanted to make sure that everything was in full working order before the attack on Ungara. Ring, biological traces?

    Scanned.

    Nothing immediately actionable. Lots of people had access to these drawers. Still, worth noting.

    Alright, nothing more I can do here-. Other than try looting the place myself, but that seems pointless. Not only will the ship's computer immediately detect it, but once I have control of the computer I can just deactivate the traps and take what I want. Or hand the whole thing over to the Ungarans. They're a nice bunch, and if anyone was going to have local hegemony I'd rather it was them than just about anyone else. Only other things of note are the senior technician's station -which might have data on the inventory- and the door to the machine shop. Breaching the door will undoubtably trigger this room's traps. And I don't particularly want to wreck the place.

    Ring, identify hidden weapons.

    Compliance.

    Wall, floor and ceiling mounted. Far more than would actually be required to kill the crew, or even a sizeable number of attackers. Whoever designed this was a nutter.

    But they weren't prepared for an Illustres.

    I drop stealth and a volley of precisely targeted destructive pulses shoot out the internal guns before they can deploy. A construct crumble-slap takes care of the door to the next section as the computer tries to deploy the guns anyway, and then I'm through-.

    A purple beam catches me in the face, eating into my armour-.

    I intensify my environmental shield and pull myself to the side, generating construct armour just as soon as the force dies down enough to make that possible.

    Ah, positron beams. Didn't miss you at all.

    I fly fuck! The beam hits again, reacting with the electrons in the air to batter my armour which is already cracking under the strain-.

    Forget it. Back up, back through the doorway into the warehouse-.

    The beam stops for a moment as I get behind the dividing wall. Okay, didn't spot exactly where that came from. And-.

    I reach up to my chest plate to feel-. Oh, that's not good. My armour's just gone. Start repairing that. Construct armour should deal with positron-based attacks, but that didn't look like it was just a positron containment beam to me. I should be able to tank it long enough to get a shot-.

    The wall explodes! The explosive reaction of matter and anti-matter throws out enough heat and radiation to cook a quarter of the warehouse area, and I can see my construct armour start to sag and melt. The beam hits me in the right shoulder as I half-turn, matter-antimatter reactions chewing at the construct pauldron!

    Separate the plate, expand, push forward. Holding for the moment, but the computer is clearly happy to shoot through the ship's interior and when it shoots denser objects the reaction is more energetic. Options? Can't shoot into this, the air is turning to plasma, stepping out should be safe but the ship clearly has some sort of anti-Lantern gear built in…

    Wait, this whole area has been wrecked and I'm not scanning. How is it seeing me?

    I float left towards the melted remains of the supervisor station and the positron beam continues shooting at my previous location, scything through the warehouse section in a series of matter-antimatter explosions but I'm already flying forward and releasing chaff as I go! There!

    A destructive beam leaps from my ring and I keep moving as it strikes the positron beam projector's housing-. A force field, a stronger one than the other guns employ. The computer controlling it turns it, firing a shot at the point I fired from, but I've already gotten out of the way as it shoots out a wall. Pressure all over my construct armour increasing…

    This level of energy is going to be externally detectable soon. Damn it! Scan in detail. I doubt that it's producing positrons as it fires, and I don't want to make its entire reserve explode. Bottle there? Good. I crumble-slap the force field and stab construct blades into the turret, destroying the wires linking the turret to the computer at the same time as a slightly more controlled construct takes control of the positron bottle. Okay, I'll… Take that somewhere safe and detonate it late-.

    Another positron beam turret descends from the ceiling and f-.

    I'm already moving out of the way. The computer still can't see me, it's just firing at my estimated location. Crumble-slap, stab. Ring, any more of these?

    None detected.

    Okay.

    I take a look around at the devastation. It hasn't quite reached the outer hull, but unlike on a plane the built-up energy can't really escape anywhere. I generate cold guns and begin the process of cooling things down. Next stop, the computer core.
     
    24th January
    18:33 GMT

    Green laser beams are absorbed by my construct armour as cold beams and a magnetic siphon construct prove to be an adequate counter to the plasma-positron weapons the computer is bombarding me with. I mean, yes, I've now got a large invisible bag of anti-matter, but nothing's blowing up so I'm calling that a success. Better still, with giant explosions not turning the atmosphere into plasma I can generally see what's shooting at me well enough to disable it at once.

    "Still not a Green Lantern."

    Though it's mildly reassuring to know that someone else spotted the green laser weakness. I mean… There are good reasons for police not going around in full riot gear the whole time. And since Green Lanterns are mostly a policing organisation it does make a sort of sense that they usually limit themselves to basic body armour. The problem is that most of them assume that that's all they need.

    And there goes the last positron beam projector. Not trying to 'taunt Murphy' here, but I'm a little surprised that the ship hasn't self-destructed yet. The positron thing appears to be its most powerful internal weapon. At this point, it should either admit defeat and scrub itself or blow the main reactor. I know Devlos programmed them with the ability; they used it during his crusade. So either this ship is somehow so valuable that its own value-weighing won't allow it to destroy itself…

    Or I'm missing something.

    "Ship, how about we resolve this like civilised peop-."

    Shock-poles extend from the frame of the blast doors blocking my way to the computer room, an appreciable fraction of the main reactor arcing… Into the hull around me because constructs don't conduct electricity. I raise my left hand and shoot each one with destructive bolts before-.

    "Sure. Let's talk about this."

    That's a new voice. I stop.

    "Who am I talking to?"

    "The man who can scrub the computer at the touch of a button."

    I nod, and open up my empathic vision. Hm, not seeing… No, there we go.

    "And if you don't want me to do-"

    I build a physical containment vessel for the positrons. Now, do I risk the final layer of defences to disable the speaker now, or let them talk themselves out?

    "-that, then stop scanning-"

    I step out

    and then back in just behind the young Ungaran man whose desire to take control of this ship is about as strong as that of the commodore outside. Though far less altruistic.

    "-and pay-."

    One construct connects me to the computer and the second pokes through his armour and subverts his central nervous system.

    And relax, and get the computer to turn off the automatic-.

    "Automatic defences on autistic mode."

    Fine. Fine. I'll just have to use my armour's stealth systems when I go anywhere I haven't already destroyed. No, wait, can I turn off the reactor from here? Sure they've got batteries, but… I can, because the self-destruct isn't automated, while the guns are designed to go autistic if the computer is destroyed by enemy action. Excellent! And… I've got Devlos Ungol's maps. Well. What he actually put on here, anyway. A few sites I don't think anyone has visited. Aaaaand this guy. The little Black Circle emblem on his armour makes it clearish what he's here for.

    "Computer, you work for me. Confirm command."

    "Command confirmed."

    "Glad to hear it." I turn the pirate around to face me. "Now how the devil did you get on board?"

    He gazes vacantly back at me.

    Okay, give him control of his head back.

    He twitches, then appears to decide to pretend that he's still paralysed.

    "Oh, come on. If you're going to try deceiving me, at least try it when there's a chance it might work."

    "I have nothing to say to you."

    Ring, check him for suicide devices.

    None found.

    I haven't forgotten that thing with Jade. Anything substantially similar? Mind wipers, coma-inducing drugs, that sort of thing?

    None found.

    I'm trusting you with this.

    Understood.

    "As I tried to tell the computer, I'm not a Green Lantern. Do you know what I am?"

    He regards me with studied disinterest.

    "Orange Lanterns have a few unique quirks. For example, I can rewrite your desires so that you want nothing more than to tell me everything I want to know." I take control of his right arm and wave it around for a moment. "Or manipulate you in other ways. Now, at the moment I don't have you for anything worse than entering a restricted area, which is a slap on the wrist offence. And I'm prepared to let you off anything you might admit to in the course of providing me with information I want. Am I clear?"

    His expression doesn't change, so I take control of his facial muscles and make him smile and nod for a moment.

    "Glad to hear it. Anything you particularly want to say?"

    His face goes slack as I allow him to take control once more.

    "No."

    Okay, anything about who this guy is in the Ungaran-.

    "Amon Sur?" He grimaces. "You're running with a bad crowd, chum. Mind if I ask why?"

    I think he was a Sinestro Corpsman for all of five minutes before Laira killed him. Angry with Abin Sur for spending all his time being a Lantern and little to none being a father. He almost certainly doesn't know about the Indigo Lantern Corps or what his father did to the woman who murdered his sister…

    I frown. Whose name I don't know. Don't think I ever saw his mother's name, either. I don't want to think 'disposable female characters', but I am.

    "They're the strongest power in this region of space."

    Actual desire triggered: Undo my father's work out of spite.

    "No, I'm the strongest power in this region of space. I have a planet Lantern."

    "You were nearly killed by this ship's defences."

    "I'm uninjured. And the only reason this was even slightly hard is that I was trying to keep the computer core intact." And shut down the shield… "I'll ask one more time: do you feel like talking?"

    His eyes narrow. "No."

    "Okay." I shrug inside my armour. "Time for an attitude adjustment."
     
    24th January
    17:43 GMT -2

    "Ambassador."

    King Orin looks… Neither pleased nor displeased to see me. Though he's experienced enough a politician to cover any personal disquiet, at least when he knows that it's coming.

    "Your majesty." I nod politely. "Minister." F'ancha gets a nod as well. He got a promotion during the last reshuffle. Not everyone who was slotted into office after the purge of Orm's nominees made the grade, and with the increased trade with the surface having a man with his experience in a more senior position makes a good deal of sense. "Lord Iqula."

    Since the whole 'me being an ambassador' thing was just a bit of a lark, I haven't really had anything to do with the Poseidonis ambassador corps in general or Tritonis's ambassador in particular. I know he was a military officer before marrying into the royal family. Whether that's good for me or not… No idea. Tritonis is fairly closely aligned with Poseidonis, and I suspect that having a traditionally-inclined ambassador around is something Orin is doing to placate the conservative crowd.

    "Lord Grayven."

    He's actually armed, which is a little surprising. There are Atlantean soldiers just outside this conference room… I guess they assume that Orin is good enough to handle it if he tries something. Or-? No. They can't possibly believe that he could stop me.

    "So, Grayven. What surprises does Queen Clea have for us today?"

    "This… Is not.. precisely relating to my ambassadorial work. It's-."

    "Because I was wondering how long it would take her to explain why she's been moving troops around outside her territory." Ah. Hm. While the units she's had supporting Mr Hyde do use basic concealment magics, it would be apparent to any Atlantean city that put any effort into watching them that something was going on. "For someone as ambitious as Queen Clea, I've been wondering if she intends to found a new city."

    "I'm afraid I'm not-."

    "I believe that Queen Clea is planning on taking more territory on the surface." Iqula doesn't seem particularly distressed at the prospect. "More islands, or a stretch of coastline. Then she could expand her trading networks."

    "To the best of my knowledge, Queen Clea has no plans to conquer anywhere. Her present focus is in developing economic power."

    Orin nods. "Yes, the Auranian ambassadors have been making representations to me regarding that for some time."

    "Naturally, Venturia would not ask the High King to involve himself in an economic dispute between city-states."

    "Did Queen Clea really ask for a oath of vassalage?"

    "I'm afraid that Lord Cyprian is handling the negotiations. I don't know the exact wording. But.. given the existing poor relations between the two cities, I don't imagine that they were generous."

    "If she's offering other cities better terms, that might become my concern."

    I shrug, as much as I can under water. "Absolutely nothing is stopping Aurania developing its own trading relationships with the surface independent of Venturia. And with the greatest respect, High King, trade between cities isn't an area where the King of Poseidonis has traditionally had the authority to overrule his vassals."

    Orin glances at Iqula, who nods.

    Unlike in America, where that very much is the President's job. Though I don't say that because ragging on Arthur Curry about his American birth isn't done. As things stand, he has a good relationship with Queen Clea, something his mother never had. She's doing something he sees as good for Atlantis, and probably for the surface as well. And he's had time to look over the records of the beginning of her dispute with Aurania and I doubt they came out of it looking particularly good.

    "Military action is."

    "Venturia has no plans to engage in military action against Aurania at this time. It would be profoundly self-defeating to improve relations with Poseidonis like this, only to… Piss the good will away."

    Wait. Is that what he thinks the troops are doing? Preparing some sort of..? Well, okay, it's better than him working out what's actually happening.

    "I'm glad to hear it. So what's this about?"

    "When the Light was.. dismantled, certain pieces of information fell into my hands… Including a way to trade messages with Black Manta."

    Orin leans forward lightly. "Have you got him?"

    "That's… Not where I was going with that. Black Manta -David Hyde- is essentially a mercenary. Having.. spoken to the man…" I wave my right arm. "At a few steps removed, I-"

    "You know where Black Manta is… And you haven't killed him?"

    "Your majesty, I don't kill everyone."

    "Or arrested him? He's a pirate. A murderer."

    "I'm a murderer."

    "You were pardoned-." He blinks. "You can't possibly expect me to pardon Black Manta."

    "Not precisely. Your ancestor, Queen Fiona, made provision for-."

    "Recruiting outlaws." He nods, clearly unsettled by the prospect. "Fiona was dealing with a total breakdown in Atlantean society after the civil wars between Prince Shalako and Orin the First, then Dardanus and Queen Cora. Most of the people she pardoned had done nothing worse than fighting for the rulers of their cities, and she desperately needed help to overcome Kordax. None of that applies here."

    "True, but consider the benefits. A group of professional mercenaries who have raided Atlantean holdings-."

    "Killed Atlantean soldiers and civilians."

    "Indeed. Something they will most likely continue to do in future. Alternatively, you can accept their oaths and… Did you review the curse which takes effect if people who took advantage of Queen Fiona's largess violated their new oath?"

    His eyes narrow as he thinks about it. "Their blood turns to brine."

    "So far, the military forces of Atlantis have not been able to capture Mister Hyde. Nor is there any real prospect of them doing so in the future. If you caught him you could… Try him, execute him… But you have to get hold of him first. If you offer him this… Commutation of his sentence, it will automatically be carried out if he attacks any Atlantean holding again. And you can order him to serve the Atlantean crown for the duration of any crisis as you see fit."

    Orin shakes his head, then turns to F'ancha. The minister exhales slowly.

    "It's… Ah… The law is still valid, your majesty. And while it would render Black Manta immune from prosecution in Atlantis it doesn't grant him the throne's protection against any action arising from his criminal activity against surface nations."

    "I don't suppose I could just pardon him and then extradite him, could I?"

    "No, your majesty, I'm afraid not."

    He turns back to me and regards me for a moment. "Grayven, why are you doing this?"

    "I think he could be useful."

    "You can't find another mercen-?" His eyes widen slightly in realisation. "Luthor's fleet. You want him for Luthor's fleet?"

    Isn't that an idea. "I haven't discussed that subject with him. Such an appointment would be up to Lex, though the similarities between aquatic and space combat aren't actually all that great at the level of technology the Earth Defence Force will be operating."

    "What's Clea's stake in this?"

    "I don't believe that she has one. Obviously, as a tributary queen, consulting with a wanted outlaw would be quite inappropriate."

    "And if I actually went through with this?"

    I shrug. "She might find that having someone more familiar with the surface and with mercantile shipping on staff is useful. But that's speculative."

    "Of course." He leans back. "I won't say 'no' right away, but I'm probably going to say it eventually."

    I nod. "I see. I must say, I'm a little surprised. Diana was less vengeful when I convinced Circe to turn over a new leaf, and her total kill count-."

    "I'm not Diana."

    Clearly. "Is there anything that would change your mind?"

    "If you can convince me that there's any chance that he's had a change of heart. But I won't accept him just getting away with his crimes against my people."

    I nod. "Very well. I'll see what I can do."
     
    24th January
    19:54 GMT

    "So what have you got?"

    John glances over to where Amon Sur is just recovering from me restoring him while the Black Circle prisoners he and Xor acquired keep away in case what I did to him is contagious.

    "The Black Circle snuck an infiltration squad onto the mining station. They were using the mining robots and mineral shipments to smuggle narcotics from outside the system back to the surface. But all that was a distraction from their real job."

    I nod. "Using the 'damaged' mining robots to move material from the fleet. Any idea how they got past the Ungarans?"

    "Gas thrusters and patience. Ungaran ships use radar and infrared sensors. It wasn't hard for them to rig the robots to run cold, or cover them in radar-absorbent paint. It was slow going, but if they got enough parts out of it…"

    I nod as Xor folds his arms across his chest, looking unimpressed.

    "Amon Sur only had the codes for a few of the ships here. What's the usual arrangement for things like that?"

    "We hand him over to the local authorities."

    "No, I meant the ships."

    He frowns, not seeing where I'm coming from. "The Ungarans get them. Once they're repaired, they'll have a strong enough self-defense force that they won't have to worry about the Black Circle any more."

    "Is there.. some sort of treaty concerning that sort of thing that I'm not aware of?"

    "No, just customs relating to salvage rights. Why, do you want them?"

    "Me, personally? No. But do the Justice League?" He looks a little more thoughtful. "The Ungarans don't appear to be concerned about power projection. They can't really get much use out of a sniper-battleship. Earth on the other hand has no defence fleet."

    "The League doesn't have the authority to control spaceships."

    "The UN represents the governments of the nations of Earth. Spaceships fly in space, or did you tell the Security Council about the Watchtower while I was away?"

    "An unarmed space station is one thing. An actual warship is very different."

    "So when's Kal-El getting his eyes plucked out? Because those guns-."

    "Look. I get where you're coming from. But the Justice League is a policing organisation. Running warships isn't what we do."

    "Okay, how about one of their support carriers? You don't have zeta tubes everywhere. You could easily justify it as a transport vehicle, and the Ungarans are far less likely to complain about you taking one ship."

    "One ship we can't fuel, repair or crew."

    "I could get you a crew. I could upgrade the Watchtower's manufacturing facilities as well."

    "I'll…" He looks away awkwardly. "I'll bring it up at the next meeting."

    Pushing him further probably won't be productive… I generate a construct image showing the Sector, marking the locations of Devlos's fleet support bases.

    "This is where Devlos had his star bases built. These- " I briefly highlight a few before turning them off. "-are ones which either Green Lanterns or local naval assets found and destroyed. And these- " I blink a couple. "-are ones which Amon knows to still be active."

    John points at one. "That's closest. And it's also near to a shipping route. We should probably head there next."

    I nod. Even if we don't learn anything new, just-.

    "How were they destroyed?"

    I turn to Xor. "Ah… Shot to pieces? Torn apart by Lantern constructs?"

    "Could they be salvaged?"

    "Probably?" I look at John.

    "Pull them back up?" I do so, and his eyes shimmer. "These three-" He points. "-were totally stripped by the navies. The hulls might still be there, but that's about it. Abin Sur dropped the ones he cleared out onto the nearest planetoid. There might be something worth salvaging, but I wouldn't count on it. The ones Starkaðr attacked… He tore them apart and destroyed the main reactors and computer systems, but the pieces probably could be salvaged." He shrugs. "They've been defenseless and unmanned for nearly two hundred years. I doubt there's anything left."

    "Pirates are salvaging. Could they build new ships?"

    "Sure. There are plenty of places they could be mining. They had engineers with the right skills, though I don't know how many got away." He looks at me. "Can you feel their desires?"

    I look through the hull of the mining station in the general direction of the closest-. Too much too much! I close my eyes. "Yes, but I can't isolate them without knowing what I'm looking for."

    "And you can't teleport there."

    "I can fly there and teleport back to you. That might be the best way to do it, if you think it's worth checking."

    "We need to check it all anyway. The question is, do we do it at the same time or leave it until we're done with the bases we know about?"

    I shrug. "You've got more experience with anti-piracy operations than me. We're trying to either wrap up the Black Circle or find Mister van Wyck and sit on him. Where do you want me?"

    "How fast can you get to… That one?"

    "A couple of minutes. Assuming no anti-Lantern interdiction systems. I'll stop outside the system and take a look, get closer… Scan whatever's there… If it's nothing, eight minutes total?"

    "Two hours for everything."

    "Unless I find something. And you can call me back at any time."

    He nods. "I'll take the prisoners back to Ungara and hand them over. You take the closest destroyed station. Xor, you head to the active one and monitor it."

    Xor glances at me and I nod.

    "Understood."

    He turns around and strides towards the airlock. John walks towards the prisoners, green light enveloping them as they rise off the floor.

    I had.. half-thought about trying to recruit Amon Sur. But… While there's a connection to Abin Sur and Soranik Natu there, I… Think I can find potential Lanterns who don't voluntarily join pirate groups and try to rebuild the fleets of a mass-murderer. And while Abin Sur was happy to give a ring to the woman who murdered his daughter-.

    "Hey, John. Is Abin Sur's wife still alive?"

    "Yeah. I'll let her know while I'm there."

    "What sort of sentence is Amon Sur looking at?"

    "Depends what they convict him for. Twenty to life, probably." His eyes narrow. "Aw, hell no. Guy warned me about this."

    "I was just-."

    "Hell no."

    "I can change his desires. Rehabilitation through mind control. I could try making him the perfect Orange Lantern. That would be far more useful than having him sit in a cell for the rest of his life."

    "Mind control."

    I step around him. "Hey, Amon!" He looks up, his face calm but his thoughts murderous. "Given the choice, would you choose serving your prison sentence, or having me rewrite your value systems and letting you go?"

    "I'd choose for you to die screaming."

    "That wasn't one of the options."

    He makes an obscene gesture with his right hand and then turns away.

    I shrug. Okay then.
     
    24th January
    15:12 GMT -5

    "Grayven." Ms Lane looks up at me while her colleagues in the Daily Planet office try to pretend they're not rubbernecking. "What do you want?"

    "I need to get hold of Superman really quickly. Would you mind if I threw you off the building?"

    She tilts her head to the left, her eyes narrowing. "Oh har. Did you come here just to make that joke?"

    "No. Actually, I wanted to try interesting you in a project I've got going on."

    She shrugs. "There's no way Horne can lose the election."

    "That's what they said about-."

    "Jonathan Horne is the one politician I'd actually believe if he told me those girls were in his room to 'get some ice'."

    I snigger. Yeah, that was… Not the most credible denial ever. "That reminds me of a joke about John Major-."

    "Who?"

    Oh. Rrright, he doesn't exist here. "A British politician from Earth Prime. But if you don't know who he is, it.. falls rather flat. The reason I'm here is that one of my ongoing projects is to try and… Not rehabilitate so much as refocus certain types of criminal-."

    "Like Lex Luthor."

    "Ah… I don't believe that he's been convicted-" I nod. "-but I did have to have words with him at one point. And now he's being far more rational about how he applies himself."

    "He's getting a space fleet."

    "Nothing illegal about a private citizen building spaceships. And a great many people are benefiting from the cheaper electricity."

    "There is something illegal about it if those ships are armed."

    "I believe that he intends to build an office on the dark side of the moon, register the ships to the lunar nation and then install the guns. And given what you know of Superman's career, are you really going to try to argue that Earth doesn't need a self-defence force?"

    "He's founding his own country?"

    "It's an interesting bypass. The government of the United States is obliged to enforce the Outer Space Treaty upon its citizens. But if Lex registers all of the guns to a non-terrestrial polity, does it apply?"

    "He's still a US citizen. Unless he's planning on renouncing his citizenship?"

    "I doubt it-. At least, not in the immediate future. I suppose that if he ever gets to the point where he's spending most of his time in space he might consider it…" I shake my head. "I don't have any special knowledge there."

    "But Luthor's fleet is definitely going to be armed."

    "Yes, and with all sorts of fascinating weapons." I smile. "You humans can be so creative! It's a marvel. But if we can return to the reason I'm here..?"

    "Rehabilitation. Like you did with Black Adam."

    "Theodore Adam and Teth Adom are different men. Do you blame Superman for the things he's done while under the influence?"

    "He murdered Kahndaq's government after he stopped being controlled."

    I smile self-depreciatingly. "I'm hardly one to criticise that."

    "What is happening to the British government?"

    "The coalition government? They'll remain-."

    "No, the one you deposed."

    "That.. won't be decided until after the next General Election. I understand that Mister Talbot wants them charged under pre-existing laws. I'd just have killed them all, but it isn't my decision."

    And if anything disproves the idea that Red Lanterns are mindless berserkers, that's it. He didn't even hesitate when the technically-not-acting Prime Minister asked him about it.

    "And exactly who else have you rehabilitated?"

    "Circe." Ms Lane blinks, then her eyes narrow slightly. "I'm a little surprised more hasn't been made of that."

    "Circe. The witch who turns men into animal-men."

    "She doesn't do that any more, and she turned back-" Most of. "-the ones she had."

    "I don't remember hearing anything about her being arrested. Or decapitated."

    "She behaved erratically due to a curse that had been placed upon her. Once I worked out how to bypass the curse, she no longer felt the need to."

    "So she gets off scot free."

    I shrug. "Despite what you might think, I'm not particularly vengeful. I'm a pragmatist. I killed Klarion because there was no way he was going to be anything other than a murderous little shit. I don't see the point in trying to rehabilitate people who can't be rehabilitated. And I'm a little frustrated that I had to have Mister Tuckman oppose plans to give Mister Napier bionic limbs." I shake my head in frustration. "Honestly, what sort of idiot thinks that giving the Joker new arms is a good idea?"

    "You might have to rip them off again."

    "If I'd ripped them off he'd be dead. I crushed them. Anyway, there's someone new I'm working with at the moment, and I was wondering if you'd like to meet them."

    "I can get interviews with Luthor any day of the week."

    "I'm sure that you can. I wasn't talking about him."

    "Fine. Who is it this time?"

    "Black Manta."

    She frowns. "Who?"

    24th January
    23:21 GMT +3

    Ms Lane follows me through the boom tube onto the… Bridge of the oil tanker. Two of Mr Hyde's soldiers are guarding the bridge, a third has the captain under guard while several members of his crew man the stations. Mr Hyde gives Ms Lane a moment to take in her environment before he turns away from the bridge window.

    "Ms Lane."

    "Black Manta. I don't think companies pay ransoms on oil tankers any more."

    "Actually, they do and then say they don't. But I won't be ransoming The Queen's Grace." He reaches up and takes off his helmet. I felt that visual transition was quite important; show himself as a supervillain changing into something else. "They were cleaning out their oil tanks at sea; illegally dumping hundreds of gallons of waste oil."

    "And you care about that since when?"

    "I'm a mercenary, Ms Lane. I don't care about anything except my crew unless someone's paying me to."

    "Grayven said he was trying to rehabilitate you."

    "Grayven wants me to take legal jobs. Which I can't do at the moment because I've got international arrest warrants on me."

    "You attacked the capital of Atlantis."

    "I got hired by one side in a civil war. Whatever King Orin likes to think, Orm had plenty of support in Atlantis. If Orm had won, I'd have had a major payday. He lost, so I'm a criminal."

    "You were a criminal before that."

    "I was a mercenary before that. Or a.. private security operative, if you want to be polite about it. Governments say all kinds of things are against the law, except when they're the ones doing them."

    "So what's this about?"

    "This is a sign I'm willing to go legitimate. Useful work for the community."

    "Which you're getting paid for."

    "If you think Grayven's paying me as much as I could get for quietly ransoming an oil tanker, you've got another thing coming. But I've reached the point in my life where the prospect of spending all my time in a submarine isn't as appealing as it used to be. I'm trying to show that I'm willing to limit myself to legitimate work."

    "If you get let off all your crimes."

    "I'm willing to negotiate. But I don't want to pretend I've had some kind of moral revelation here." He shrugs. "It's a move from high risk high reward to low risk low reward. The costs of staying outside the law have mounted up and I'd rather stop paying them."

    I smile. Mr Hyde isn't one of the world's greatest speakers, but he's sticking to our agreed angle. I send the files on the ship to the relevant port authorities, then step back towards the boom tube.

    "I'll leave you two to get better acquainted. Back in an hour."
     
    24th January
    20:33 GMT

    Well, Canis was right. Not seeing any art here.

    This is the fleet support base that was closest to Mellifera. Rather than bombard the planet, Devlos instead opted to do.. something to the system's star. It's still there, but far dimmer and colder than it was a few centuries ago. I'm honestly struggling to think how he could have done that. While I'm aware of plenty of devices that could affect a sun they're mostly macro-scale themselves. Suns are quite large, and have a fair bit of energy in them. Devlos's armour was never described as anything other than a brute force implement, so given that he fought Green Lanterns I can only assume that it was ludicrously powerful. Eat a sun for fuel powerful.

    I use a construct claw to halt a slowly rotating piece of debris and then shove it out of the way. The Free Tartarath fleet burned it two centuries ago, and even with vacuum insulation it's still reached 4 kelvin. No record of them trying to salvage it, but the elements of the Tartarath military who avoided Devlos during his initial takeover were his most fanatical opponents. They would have considered the whole place contaminated. Which goes some way to explain the thoroughness of the destruction.

    Mellifera's people adapted, with help. The population plummeted from its 36 billion peak as the heat they loved vanished and the surface froze, but they don't have the aversion to being underground or in confined spaces that many winged species have. Most of the population live underground these days, and the world is covered in a layer of snow. They don't look at the stars any longer.

    …

    I wonder if there's an intelligent sun I could recruit?

    No, no, there are plenty of ways to fix this that don't involve a new recruit. Inasmuch as it needs fixing. The people currently alive are fine as they are. The damage happened two hundred years ago. The ecosystem is gone, not under threat.

    A semi-complete corpse floats past me in a cloud of frozen blood crystals.

    But that's something I'm going to have to deal with.

    "Illustres to Lantern Mother of Mercy."

    There's a slight delay, then a construct of the trunk of her core appears over my ring.

    "Yes?"

    "I'm sending you the location of a series of destroyed space stations. No immediate rush, but I want you to visit them and consume them. Catalogue everything you find, then return to Sol."

    "Understood."

    "Feeling any better with all of the ghosts gone?"

    "Small oddities which I noticed are now absent. My dreams are easier now. Now that I know they were there, it pleases me that their uncomfortable after life experience is made more pleasant."

    "Glad to hear it. Illustres out."

    Her tentacles wave. "Illustres?"

    "Yes?"

    "The first humanoid I encountered. The one whose brain raised me to true intelligence. Is he amongst them?

    "I don't know. Hades has barely begun processing them. Is it important?"

    "I would like to speak with him directly. His death was important to me."

    "I'll ask. Anything else?"

    "No. Mother of Mercy out."

    The image vanishes, and I take another look at the drifting wreckage.

    Ring, any evidence that anyone has been scavenging here recently?

    None found.

    Right. I construct-grab a lump of debris and transmute it into an alert beacon. If anyone does come this way it'll ping me an alert. Same as the last four. I then turn away and fly out of the centre of the debris field into open space.

    Ring, plot course to the next station.

    Course plotted.

    Two, one, go.

    Space bends and… I'm not there yet. Ugh, I think I'm becoming jaded already. The space stations are all built on similar lines, but the damage patterns are different. The attack reconstructions my ring makes are unique.

    Alright, come on. At least-.

    Warp terminating.

    Space snaps back in as I appear on-. Well, not the edge of the system because there isn't one. Rather, there's a planet that at some point in the galaxy's past was torn free of its home system and sent freewheeling across the void. Reminds me of the episode of Star Trek Enterprise, where the set designer completely blanked on the fact that plant-analogues on a world without sunlight wouldn't have leaves.

    There are a lot of frigid planets around here.

    Ring, is anything around here interfering with FTL?

    No.

    Right, plot route and transition closer. Let's get this over-

    Space skips.

    -witharmour!

    Lasers slash across my construct armour, and kinetic rounds slam into it a moment later! This station has very evidently been restored to functional-

    FTL interdiction fields now active.

    -ity. Secondary batteries are deploying and pointing my way and I'm stuck at sublight speeds. I plot a meandering course to bring me closer to the station and fire a volley of destructive pulses at the-. The plasma field surrounding the station shimmers, but manages to absorb the pulses. Fine, I know how to deal with those. Shield construct-

    The lasers that can hit me are, but the kinetic weapons have been reduced to chance impacts by my evasive pattern.

    -to protect the railgun, load crumblers and fire.

    The lasers switch targets immediately, but a combination of my movements, the speed of my shots and the hard to detect profiles of my rounds results in a quarter or so hitting their target. The plasma shield ripples, and I spot hull-mounted emitters spark as they overload. The section of shield in front of me collapses and I fire-

    The secondary weapons -positron beams- draw a bead on me and open fire.

    -destructive pulses against the station's weapon emplacements. With no ship to keep intact it's a relatively simple matter to use magnetic fields to turn the shots away from me, while their armour isn't tough enough to block my shots. Turrets are reduced to twisted scrap as I slow to a stop to get a better look at what I'm fighting. I raise both arms and gesture, pulses of orange light raining down across this side of the station and eliminating shield emitters and weapon hardpoints.

    Ring, is FTL available?

    Interdiction fields still in effect.

    Fine. I didn't see any ships…

    I generate a crumbler gauntlet construct and slam it into the outer hull.

    Let's see who's been rebuilding.
     
    24th January
    20:36 GMT

    "Ahoy the station."

    Whoever's running this clearly knew that I was coming, but there isn't a marine squad ready to greet me as the air puffs out of the breach in the hull. There don't even appear to be any alarms. And whatever lunatic designed the internal defence-heavy warships, they don't appear to have repeated that style here. A weak plasma shield snaps into place to seal the hole, and blast doors begin to close to block the flow of air from the adjacent sections. Contrary to what science fiction tries to tell you, hull breaches don't actually lose air all that fast. Certainly not fast enough to move a person when the artificial gravity is set to Earth normal. After all, the difference in pressure is only 1 atmosphere. Still, air would continuously leak out, and functioning responses shows that at the very least someone has been doing recent maintenance.

    Ring, any recent exhaust trails or other signs that there have been ships around here?

    Trails found. Displaying.

    Uh… Locally available FTL systems and thrust residues. Nothing really stands out, though tracking ships in precise terms isn't a simple matter. Tracking a ship moving at FTL is easy enough once you have any sort of FTL sensor, and often tracking where it used to be isn't all that difficult with sublight sensors. A ship at FTL is doing something clever with spacetime, and that will usually give some indication that it's going on. Whereas trying to detect that such a voyage happened at some point might well involve trying to triangulate radiation emitted from a point that has since been moving at light speed away from that point. It's doable, especially with a power ring, but it doesn't give a lot of detail.

    "Illustres to Lanterns Xor and Stewart."

    "I hear."

    There's a momentary delay before John responds.

    "You find something?"

    "One active space station in good repair. Investigating now."

    "You might wanna wait-."

    "I'm already on board. It started shooting as soon as I appeared."

    "And you didn't just fall back? Where were they gonna go?

    "They've got an anti-Lantern interdiction field. So while I could get away, coming back would be a little more difficult. Look, the gunnery wasn't anything I couldn't handle."

    "…uy and Hal all over again."

    "Didn't catch that, Lantern Stewart. But how are things at your end?"

    "The prisoners are in custody, though they're keeping them away from the people Xor dropped off earlier." For a moment, I consider correcting him to 'Lantern Xor', but… We're working together. Being pedantic about designation protocol would be a little rude. If he keeps doing it I can always have a word with him later. "I'm watching the same station as Xor right now, from the other side of the system."

    I pull a phasing drone out of subspace and send it through the closest blast door. It travels through without any difficulty. Hm. There are defences that it's worth putting on a ship that are worthless on a station. But I suppose I don't have any real evidence that the people who repaired this place are the Black Circle. Random merchants who didn't turn off the defences? Unlikely but possible.

    "Anything interesting?"

    "It's a lump of rock. An asteroid with the station concealed inside. Not sure how they're hiding their heat signature, unless someone's been selling them cold guns."

    "Mr Snart is a very clever man, but he can't be the only person in the universe to figure out how to apply energy in opposition to molecular vibration."

    I have the phasing drone fly back through the blast door, then have it fly through a different one. Still no problem. I then engage my armour's stealth systems and have it fly back. There aren't any monitoring systems inside this corridor, the stealth systems will prevent external monitoring and since the counter-phasing doesn't appear to have activated in response to me vanishing… I move away from the blast door I was closest to and fly though the one on my right.

    "I wouldn't be so sure about that. The last time I saw anyone else with that sort of tech they had to use a machine the size of a house. And it wasn't anything like as efficient."

    "Okay, but even if they've got that technology, cold guns don't work through construct barriers. Lantern Xor?"

    "I hear."

    "I know you weren't keen, but the armour I made you is climate controlled. A full powered cold gun would kill you."

    "I will wear the armour."

    I nod. "I realise that it's offensive to your sense of honour, but-."

    "No. Now I am not a prisoner, it is not dishonourable to wear the armour of my new unit."

    "I'll remember that. Though I would like to point out that -outstanding charges or not- you were an Orange Lantern from the moment you called your ring."

    Okay, let's see. The 'rooms' on the exterior side are where the exterior guns pull back into when not in use. Interior side wall is thick, designed to resist overpenetrating shots taken at the guns. Or overloads or misfires from whatever they're using to generate or contain the positrons, because antimatter isn't exactly the most discerning of materials. Corridors are relatively narrow, so they aren't designed to have crew running up and down them during combat. Probably just a maintenance team, which might actually be maintenance robots. In addition, there aren't any markings on the walls to indicate where this is. This is starting to look like a largely automated station.

    "I hear."

    And if it is… I'm overdue an Ice Fortress replacement. And the guns are disguised when not firing. I mean, if the League really insist I could replace the positron beams with cold guns… Actually, that's not a bad idea anyway. I mean, keep a few, but positrons are only really good as an anti-armour weapon. Against most other things a cold gun would probably outperform it, and without having the 'antimatter' tag which for most people would immediately mark it down as a superweapon rather than what it is: a reasonably powerful gun that's still less dangerous than each of Superman's eyeballs.

    "Any ships around?"

    "Yeah. They've got basic stealth systems, and I think they've got quick-fire drives."

    Which means they can do FTL jumps automatically to get away the moment something goes wrong. They'll probably be stuck for a while after that jump, and…

    "You could track the jump, right?"

    "Probably, if I wasn't distracted while they did it."

    Probably be able to wipe their computers…

    "I'm going to suggest that you do that, and have Lantern Xor storm the base. If it's designed for stealth then it probably isn't all that well defended. He might well be able to secure the computer core before they can react, and when the ships rabbit you can track them down."

    "I'd feel better if it wasn't just me. We could have a local fleet or two standing by to receive them. Quick jumps aren't exactly quiet."

    "If you think that's best."

    Ah, another doorway towards the interior. I send the drone through it, being mildly pleased that it isn't blocked. I'm not going to complain about this being easier than I thought it would be. I phase through, and float down the corridor into-.

    Alert! Gravity distortions detected!

    What.. the.. Hell am I looking at?
     
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