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

[Mr Zoat]

3rd July 2012
10:23 GMT -5

"Oh orange light, orange light
Show us the sign!
Your Lanterns have waited to see!
The morning will come
When the gal'xy's mine!"

I Think Not.

The space between us and the dreadnaught is obscured as the dreadnaught's main gun fires, a test of the strength of my desire for the fulfilment of my mission.

A test of the strength of the mortal's desire for the fulfilment of his mission against my drive to conquer. Can he hear me, I wonder? Some mortals long accustomed to divine power can become aware of us, though I've yet to see one with any degree of true insight.

I smile as I feel something other than the power of the main gun directed at me from the dreadnaught. Hello there.

"Tomorrow belongs to me!"

I pointedly turn away from the blazing fury raining down on my shield. The Lanterns I assigned to tow duty appear to have found a workable method for ducking the jamming. It's not exactly fast, but it's faster than light and that's fast enough. They should only need a few minutes.

"Alright, let's try that again, but I expect you all to join in this time."

Tomorrow belongs to ME, mortal, and all of the days thereafter.

Yes, there's a New God over there, and they know who I am. But this is my Lantern Corps, and if they need a victory then I will ensure that they have one. My vision of the future won't be stopped by a demigod with a big… 'Ship'.

My vision won't be stopped by a mortal with a glowing ring.

"Oh orange light, orange light
Show us the-!"

No one's joining in.

"Oh, come on. Most of your cultures have a concept of music! And the rest of you-"

The dreadnaught accelerates, coming steadily closer.

I Am Inevitable.

It fires again, the ravening energies once more obscuring the wider universe on the other side of my barrier. Yes, yes, it's a very big gun. But these Lanterns are mine, and that's more important.

This ship is mine. My capital. My throne. And it is of more significance than your cluster of mental defectives.

"-can just chant it?"

Most of the L.E.G.I.O.N. ships are nearing the edge of the jamming limit now, the Lanterns who moved fastest dumping their loads before flying back to aid the slower ones.

"Oh orange light, orange light!"

There's a reluctant muttering along from the Lanterns surrounding me, which is mildly frustrating as their shield is inside my shield and as such isn't actually getting shot at the moment. You'd think they could multitask well enough to sing.

"Show us the sign!"

With a little effort, I add an orange sigil wider than planet Earth to the inside of my shield.

"Your Lanterns have waited to see!"

I will show them their futures in a handful of ash.

"The morning will come!"

Now the dreadnaught's secondary batteries open fire as well, testing the outer parts of my shield. Yes, still strong there as well.

"When the gal'xy's mine!"

Slightly more Lanterns singing along now. Actually-. Ah, a proportion of those on tow duty have returned and joined in. I suppose that from a distance my shield is visible and the dreadnaught's own weaponsfire obscures it.

"Tomorrow belongs to me!"

Everyone who's still here sings a line, and inside my helmet I'm smiling broadly.

Enough of this!

The main gun shuts down, though the dreadnaught is still coming closer.

"There, that wasn't so hard, was it? Upon my order, disengage in small groups and link up with the L.E.G.I.O.N. fleet. I'll tell you when."

I begin sending orders direct to their rings, flecks of orange light across the emptiness of the outer system blurring as they head away. A hundred and twenty two Lanterns to a hundred and twelve. A hundred and one. Ninety, and the only reason I'm going this slowly is to make it completely clear to everyone that this is a controlled withdrawal.

The dreadnaught slows to a relative stop, its bow almost touching my barrier. Generally speaking, if your super gun didn't work then ramming probably won't either. Why are they..?

A small boom tube opens near the bow of the vessel and a single humanoid steps out, arms folded behind… His back. Big fellow. I guess this is the warchief that no one challenges. No one inside the clan challenges.

"Remaining Lanterns may disengage on their own recognisance. Shield going down."

Rather than simply dismiss it, I allow the construct to shrink inwards, until it's merely the size of the great orange sigil. Lanterns retreat, but nothing like as fast as they would be if they earnestly desired to flee. I think a few are actually loitering.

"As much as I appreciate the offer of backup, the fleet does actually need you. Get moving. That is an order."

And they're going. I float closer, making eye contact with the hulking figure acting as his ship's hood ornament. And I have no doubt that it is his; he has New God armour similar in general design to what the other New Gods of my acquaintance wear, though a little more sombre in tone. Dull gold and black, his face bare and a cascade of white hair drifting in the vacuum.

I have no idea who this is. The face and grey-blue skin tone reminds me a little of Marvel's Thanos, but otherwise, I've got nothing. I didn't learn all that much about the backgrounds of the New Gods on Earth Prime because… Whatever the original idea was, when I was younger they were serving as minor Superman characters with grand-sounding names but little actual plot relevance.

Of course, if Canis is anything to go by, he's not exactly going to be shy about telling me. So… Fully disengaged? Yes, just me left on our side, except perhaps for a few Lanterns who are really good at stealth. I make sure that I have eye contact and then lightly tap the shield from my side with the knuckles of my right hand as I allow it to evaporate.

"Hello there! I'm the Illustres of the Orange Lantern Corps. Mind if I come aboard?"

"You have my permission to stand before me."

The voice is as deep as I'd expect for a chest of that volume, but also… Dusty? There's a mildly wheezing quality to it that I find a little odd. I suppose that could just be a result of talking in a vacuum; I'm not totally clear how he's managing that.

I fly through space, over the bow of the ship and land a short distance ahead of him.

"And whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?"

"I am Grayven." "I am Conquest."

 

[Mr Zoat]

3rd July 2012
10:29 GMT -5

Oh. I… Think I vaguely remember that he was one of Darkseid's offspring, created because the writers thought that they were devaluing Darkseid by showing him being constantly beaten by everyone. Notable victories included killing Darkstars… And I can't think of anything else.

"Nice work with the Reach fleet. Councillor Vayneek told me that his clan was interested in attacking the Reach, but he didn't mention that his clan chief was Apokoliptian."

Now that I get a closer look, the tron lines on the front of his cuirass look like a more high-tech version of the clan insignia. That makes sense; he'd wear it because it shows he's in charge, but there's no way he'd paint it on himself and his flesh would regenerate a tattoo.

"How do you know of my people?"

"S-." I frown, then smile. "Your brother Scott Free lives on my homeworld."

There's no obvious reaction to that news, though assuming he's actually in touch with Apokolips then he now knows where I come from.

"You do know me, then."

"Know of you. I mean, I knew a New God was involved the moment the boom tube appeared, and I guessed 'Apokoliptian' due to the way your followers conducted themselves, but I didn't know you were in charge. I didn't know what you looked like until you introduced yourself just now."

"And you. What are you?"

"I am the Illustres of the Orange Lantern Corps. And as-."

"No. Not that. You do not feel entirely mortal."

"I was bonded to the Embodiment of Avarice for a week a year and a half ago. The experience -and the recovery from it- changed me. Look, can we… Talk about the Reach?"

"Yes." "Acquiesce."

There it.. is again.

"Please don't do that."

"I do what I like."

"Does 'what you like' include starting a fight with the Embodiment of Avarice right here? Scott explained that spiritual communication thing you New Gods do-."

"He did not. He lacks the knowledge that would be required. Still, I can be satisfied that you are not wholly ignorant. But, no. I will not still my soul for your benefit."

"In that case we will speak with you in the manner in which you are accustomed."

A clear expression of disquiet on his face as we regard all that he is. The structures of his desires are more alive than those we are accustomed to, more bound up in the material, acting on it and directing it and in turn-.

"Banish your creature!" "You Are Not Worthy!"

"We are not so separate that one can banish the other, but since it offends you so much, I will make a temporary accommodation."

His eyes are glowing red-. Ah, yes, he has a scaled-down version of the omega beam, doesn't he. I wonder how scaled down? Conflict with Darkseid is inevitable, and it would be infinitely preferable to have some idea if plan 'stick something in the way' is actually a viable tactic.

"The New God religion says that each of you embodies a fraction of the Source, doesn't it? The divide between me and the Ophidian is a little unclear. But: the Reach."

He remains staring at me as his eyes dim.

"This ship is the Absolute Dominion. A New God warship crafted to fight in our earliest wars and made whole anew at my direction. It is unimaginably superior to anything the Reach can field."

I nod. "And your gordanians have a rare discipline. I take it you've worked on them as well?"

"Their minds and souls are now as strong as their bodies. They can never be my equals, but they are most excellent tools for extending my domain."

"I had been under the impression that Apokolips was out of the military conquest business."

"I do not do this for Apokolips. I act in my own name, under my own banner."

"Ah. Good for you. Because we're really not ready to fight Darkseid."

That actually gets a small smirk.

"No. You are not."

"But he's the target, isn't he? In the end. He can't tolerate anyone being independent of him, not in the long run."

"I have no interest in indulging you. I will tell you what I will do. I will destroy the Reach as a political body. The survivors will become mine, and I will rule over them as I see fit."

"I have no particular objection to you taking and administering that territory, but… The worlds conquered by the Reach but still occupied by their original inhabitants must be returned to them."

"They can live under my reign, equal to my other tools. The Reach destroy theirs too readily." "Such inefficient statecraft offends me."

"Well… We're not going to be releasing any worlds we liberate to you, though we'll be happy to help you undo the Reach's programming on any worlds you liberate."

"I have no need for your aid."

"Alright. Then… Why are we talking? If you don't want anything and aren't offering anything, I don't understand the point."

"I wished to look you in the eye. Your shield was not inconsiderable in magnitude. If I did not know who you are, my eventual triumph over you would have less… Weight."

"Can.. we at least agree to fight the Reach first?"

"If you stay out of my way, I will not seek you out."

"I'll… Take that. Um, thank you. Good luck with your war against the Reach, I hope you don't die until right near the end."

He actually smiles.

"I hope that you die to no hand but mine."

"Ah… I already died once. Burning sword through the skull."

"I will make sure that mine is more…" His eyes light up again. "Thorough."

…

"Ah. Okay?" I raise my right fore and index finger to my forehead and give him a demi-salute. "I'll.. be seeing you, then."

I step-.

…

His smile broadens.

Be like that, then.

We step into him, twisting and bending his desire networks, leaving him writhing in confusion before we finally leave, heading after our fleet and our Lanterns. As a New God he will recover in short order, but perhaps he will learn some manners? But now, we have a victory to earn.

 

[Mr Zoat]

July 3rd 2012, 08:32 GMT -7

I didn't see a lotta nature growing up in Gotham. Poison Ivy hadn't taken over Robinson Park yet, but the Falcones already owned the mayor's office and the city council. Money for parks and recreation wasn't exactly high on their priority list. And trips with Dad out to the forest weren't exactly nature walks.

I don't know if it's because they're ponies or because they haven't industrialised yet, but the ponies have a lot more nature around their towns. Canterlot.. just.. stops once you get off the mountain. And then there's miles of moorland before you get to… This place.

It's called Ponyville. I know I'm just getting a translation from Sunset's spell, but that's not even a pun. It's just 'pony' with 'ville' stuck on the end. We don't have towns called 'Humanville'. Yeah, Grayven said there's a place in England called 'Manchester', and apparently there's some place in Vietnam called 'Hue', but it's not literally every town on the planet.

"Bit for your thoughts?"

The pink… Ah… Pinkie Pie? I'm guessing this is the local one, but I don't know how Grayven tells them apart. It's probably something to do with him starting to reorganise their government and so counting them as his 'subjects', but arrows don't really have personalities. If I wanted to work out the differences I'd probably need to go hunting with them or something.

I look around the apple orchard.

"How do you pick these without hands?"

Pinkie Probably Pie grins, shaking her head, her mane flopping back and forward like it's made of rubber. "We don't, silly. How would we pick things without hands?"

…

"I-. With your mouths? That's how most ponies I've seen move stuff."

Pinkie Pie frowns. "I think that would bruise the skin. And it would take a really long time. And it would probably make a lot of ponies strain their necks. And have you tried to go up a ladder as a pony? We're really not designed for ladders."

"I guess… Okay, how do you get the apples off the trees?"

Pinkie Pie perks up. "I'll show you!" And then she perks down. "Well, okay, I won't show you, because last time I tried to do it… It didn't go too well. But my friend Applejack can show you!"

"Let's go find Applejack, then."

Pinkie Pie… Bounces, all four legs acting like springs. Is that something ponies can do? Ponies like Wilson-ponies. I haven't seen any of the others do it, but maybe they just think it looks silly? Or maybe it's really hard? I've gotten the hang of walking with four hooves, but I can't run-. Or.. trot? Yet.

"Hey, do you have deer around here?"

"Of course not. This is an apple orchard, not a deer orchard." Pinke Pie gasps, then her head twists around like an owl's neck while she keeps bouncing. "Unless they're in disguise!"

"Ah, yeah, no, I meant; can deer talk on this planet? Are they intelligent, like ponies?"

"Wouldn't they be intelligent like deer?"

"That's a tautology. Look, I know gryphons and dragons are as intelligent as ponies, but regular dogs and cats aren't."

"Oh."

"So?"

"So?"

"Are deer intelligent like gryphons, dragons and ponies are?"

"I don't know. I've never met a deer. But the only zebra I've met is super-nice, so, maybe?"

"How about giraffes?"

"What are those?"

Right. Pre-industrial, in the middle of a continent. They probably didn't even have a map of their planet until Grayven gave them one.

"They look sorta like ponies, but a lot bigger and with really long necks. And they've got two little-" I go cross-eyed for a second trying to look at my horn. "-horns on their heads."

"Huh. I dunno, but now I really wanna meet one! They probably could pick apples without a ladder!"

"Yeah, probably."

I don't… I mean, yeah, this place is about as far from the Land of Summer's End as you can get, and I guess Grayven wanted to spend some time with Princess Luna, but I don't.. really…

I don't know why I'm here. I think Grayven wants to put me in a relaxing environment, without all of the people and places I keep thinking I should remember but don't. But I think that's just… Putting it off? If he was just trying to break me out of a 'downward spiral' or something-.

"Hey, AJ!"

A pale orange pony with a.. cowboy hat. Huh? Why would a pony wear a hat to keep the sun off when they're not wearing clothes and they're covered in fur? That-. Anyway, the orange pony with the apple butt tattoo looks up from taking buckets off a cart.

"Well hey there Pinkie Pie! Who's yer friend?"

"This is Artey! She came through the magic mirror like Grayven did!"

'AJ' starts looking decidedly less welcoming. "That right."

"Uh-huh! And she wants to know how we get apples off the trees!"

"Well, that's easy. We buck 'em."

I frown, and I feel the pull as my horn stops the skin over my forehead moving.

"You.. buck them?"

"Why, we surely do! I'll show ya!"

Applejack grabs one bucket after another, rapidly tossing them into a rough circle around one of the apple trees. Weird they all stay upright, but I guess the bases are weighted or something?

"Watch real careful, y'all."

Applejack backs up towards the tree, and it looks like she's carefully judging the distance. So, what, she kicks the tree and the apples fall off? How can that wo-

Next to me, Pinkie Pie inhales deeply, her lungs swelling.

-rk..? Oh, is this one of those song th-?

"Apple's a yummy, tree-growing fruit!
Bucking them is a bucker's strong suit!
Because you see it's really a breeze!
Pull your legs back and buck all the trees!"

Applejack kinda leans forward, lifts her back legs up and thrusts them into the tree. The tree vibrates, the apples shake, then… Fall… Perfectly into the buckets?

What?

"You can buck peaches and you can buck limes!
And you can buck figs if you've got the time!
And if you want to buck down some sloes!
Swing your legs hard and see how it goes!"

Pinkie Pie prances around as Applejack continues buck-.

"Apple's a yummy, tree-growing fruit!
Bucking them is a bucker's strong suit!
Because you see it's really a breeze!
Lift your tail up and buck all the trees!"

Wait. Wait. Lift your-? What's she saying?

"If fruit-bearing trees aren't how you swing!
You can buck just about anything!
Buck on a wood plank to drive in the nails!
Or buck a ship-mast to open the sails!"

Is she..?

"Apple's a yummy, tree-growing fruit!
Bucking them is a bucker's strong suit!
Because you see it's really a breeze!
Spread your legs wide and buck all the trees!"

This is-!

"Srk!"

"Buck on a mountain to knock down a rock!
Buck on a tower to start up a clock!
Buck on a stuck pipe to start up a flow!
You can try bucking wherever you go!"

"Apple's a yummy, tree-growing fruit!
Bucking them is a bucker's strong suit!
Because you see it's really a breeze!
Stretch your haunches and buck all the trees!"

…

"Hahahahaha!"

 

[Mr Zoat]

July 3rd 2012, 08:38 GMT -7

"Expand on your bucking proclivity
So if you need you can even buck me-."

The-. HAH! The pony stops in mid-air, shakes, then falls to the ground, sits on her bum and waves her front legs at me.

"Ah, can you forget I sang that last one? Please?"

"Hah. Ah, why?"

Aside from the obvious word substitution thing. I mean, I don't think she's coming onto me-. But then, Grayven and Luna are pretty okay with-.

"Well…" Pinkie Pie tilts her head to the right. "My uncle Smoky Quartz taught me that bit when I was a little filly, and Mom got mad and glared at him and told him he couldn't have any more adult soda and I don't want to get him in trouble again."

She sounds… Completely… Genuine? Does she not..? Realize..? I was.. kinda assuming that 'buck' and 'fuck' weren't near-phonemes in ponyspeak, but… That song makes it pretty clear that they are. Unless I'm just so… Unpony, or whatever, that I'm seeing things that aren't there.

"Okay. But… Did he teach you any other verses?"

"One or two." She taps her chin with her right front hoof. "And he might have been right? My friend Rainbow Dash is a pegasus and she does everything fast, so I guess it would make sense if she bucked fast too, but I've never seen a unicorn buck. Even when we help out Applejack on the farm, Twilight and Rarity use their horns instead. And that wasn't how that verse went at all."

I'm moving before I really think about it, and legs that I can usually barely control are.. hugging her? It feels weird, having the fur on my chest rubbing against hers and her sweet-smelling mane in my nose, but… Nice? She hugs me back, and she's stronger than she looks. All that bouncing's healthy exercise, I guess? It's like hugging Barney the Dinosaur.

Only less terrifying.

I let go and shuffle back a bit before getting back on all four hooves. I… Like this pony. She's so… Open, and cheerful. Just being around her makes…

"Ah, are you okay? You looked kinda sad there for a moment."

"It's…"

It's why Grayven asked her to show me around, obviously. He thinks I need to open up to a pink party pony who doesn't know what 'adult soda' is.

I mean… Maybe?

I clear my throat. "So, was that a.. traditional.. earth pony song?"

She nods. "Uh-huh! Every earth pony town that does any bucking at all has their own version! Do the ponies where you come from have a song like that?"

"Ah… Not.. really? Human legs don't really work like that."

"Do you have songs about climbing trees instead?"

"No? Why would-?" Right. "You know we're not.. monkeys, right? I mean, we're related, but we've been upright for about six million years."

She nods.

"So they'd be really old songs."

"I don't think we even had language back then."

"Okay. What songs do humans sing? What songs did your uncle teach you?"

"Well… I grew up on a different continent to my mom's family. And all Dad ever told us about his side of the family was that they died. So… They kinda didn't."

"Um. Oh. Um. What about your mom and dad?"

"Mom once made up a song about stabbing people? It's not.. really something I wanna pass on to an alien civilisation."

"Ah… Like, joke… Stabbing? Like a murder mystery party?"

"No, like stabbing someone with a knife so they die. My parents were thieves and murderers. Or.. are, in Mom's case. I didn't exactly have a normal childhood."

Pinkie Pie shifts awkwardly. "I didn't have a normal foalhood either, but for me that just means I grew up on a rock farm. Um. Are you okay?"

"How would I know?"

"Oh, whaw. I.. try and make people happy? But I'm not actually a trained counsellor pony? Um…" Her left ear flicks nervously, then she gets up and stands next to me, not quite touching me but making me aware that she's there. "But we can talk about it if you want?"

Talking to a talking pony plush doll beats trying to talk to Dinah again. And whatever Grayven says, I'm leaving Guy Gardner as a last option.

"You know, I'm actually older than my mom?"

"How does that work?"

"Time travel. I went to the future for a long time, then came back."

"A long long time?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Like, Hearthwarming Cake takes a long time, or like a tree growing takes a long time? Or like Princess Celestia's ruled Equestria for a long time?"

"Probably that last one. Me and Grayven ruled the whole planet."

"Was it fun?"

"I wouldn't call it fun. But… I.. miss it. It's pretty much all I've done for so long that now there's this.. hole in my life."

"Hey, that sounds a lot like Princess Celestia!"

Grayven's girlfriend's sister. And Sunset's teacher, before she came to Earth after they had a fight. I've seen her a couple of times but I don't really know her.

"How do you mean?"

"Well, she's ruled Equestria for over a thousand years! And I've never even heard of her doing anything that wasn't something to do with that."

"What did she do before that?"

"Uh." Pinkie Pie stares straight forward, her eyes wide. "Before? I can't-. I mean, they weren't in charge in the Hearthwarming story, so I guess she wasn't always in charge?" She taps her chin with her right front hoof. "It's just-. She's-. The.. Princess."

She shakes her head, her hair blurring-. Is her muzzle bending, or is that just an optical illusion?

"What kinda things did you do when you were in charge?"

"I…"

I remember fighting. And arguing. Commanding and managing logistics. Reading reports and checking that the people writing them weren't lying to me. Trying to instil some sort of unifying ideology in a people who only cared about themselves and maybe those immediately around them. And then when I got back together with Grayven… Things got easier, but there was always something. A sports event to open. A research project to monitor. We… Went to see plays a couple of times, but that was because we'd only just got the Sheeda to start doing cultural stuff. Yeah, it wasn't all exhausting, but I can't remember anything I just did for fun.

"I worked. I worked a whole lot."

"What did you do when you weren't working?"

What hobbies did I even have before I went to the Land of Summer's End? Apart from vigilantism. I can't remember anything.

"I think that was just when I was asleep."

Pinkie stares at me, her mouth hanging slightly open.

"Ok-ay, well, how about we do some stuff I think is fun, and we see if that helps?"

I nod, and give her a small smile. I guess it can't hurt, can it?

 

[Mr Zoat]

3rd July 2012
10:39 GMT -5

They see us coming, of course.

"This is my cause, this is my fight."

The fight's happening about a light-week away from me, and therefore is invisible to the unaided eye as a result. Ring-based FTL sensors provide a more helpful view of my Lanterns blocking shots for the L.E.G.I.O.N. fleet and then moving aside as their return volleys rend apart their Reach opposition.

"Shine through the void with orange light."

My deduction about the magic shields was right, though the archmages weren't even attempting to repair them. Apparently it's completely impractical in the field away from a thaumically active world. Which meant that we had a choice between a slow approach -completely unacceptable- or having me muscle through the anti-Lantern FTL blockers to get us into position within a reasonable timeframe.

"I've claimed all within my sight."

Which means that the Reach now know that I can do that. And not just on my own, but with a strategically useful fleet. And I'm pretty sure that they're going to upgrade their jammers now, certainly around their core worlds.

The Reach's attack craft are dead, but rather than commit to the attack I'm having the Lanterns hold back. The former Darkstars amongst them have taken a particularly vindictive joy in hunting down the handful of Scarab Warriors who've shown themselves outside of their ships, while the rest are under firm instructions to focus on battlefield control. Some work in teams to drag Reach ships around or hold them in place to make them easier targets. Some assist our own crippled vessels in retreating. Some are storming the bastion stations while their fleet is fully distracted, and as one erupts in nuclear fire I immediately notice an increase in tactical agility amongst my Lanterns.

"To keep what is mine, that is my right."

Orange light blazes out of my personal lantern and into my rings, because bulldozing a system designed to stop Lanterns bulldozing it does a number on your energy reserves. As I watch the ongoing fight one squad gets creative and uses a cored Reach battleship as mobile cover. I make a note of the Lantern who came up with the idea and decide to single them out for praise when this is over. Even if it's just a large mass of ablative armour, using something that isn't a construct shield will be a massive saving on ring power, and the Reach knows to target Lanterns who are recharging.

Case in point, the stealthed Scarab Warrior closing in on me who thinks that I can't see through his stealth system.

They stop once my lantern vanishes back into subspace, no doubt deducing that they've missed their window. We have reasonable intelligence on how fast Scarab Warriors can move, and I was careful to stay further than that away from the ongoing engagement. So now the Warrior has to decide whether to keep coming and try to get a lucky shot in, stay where he is, go back to the furball the Reach is currently losing, or flee out of the system. Since L.E.G.I.O.N. is winning I don't need to force the issue. I imagine that Dox would quite like a Scarab Warrior captured either alive or dead so that we can get a better look at one, but I'm still rather peeved with him at the moment.

Casualties on our side appear to be light. Not really committing the Lanterns, ordering them to go slow, has prevented any of them from being killed. The Reach don't appear to have a doctrine for fighting Lanterns and fleets at the same time, probably because the Green Lantern Corps didn't fight like that. Or maybe there isn't much they can do here due to the disparity in the levels of force involved. L.E.G.I.O.N. ships are getting damaged and I'm sure that some of their crew are dying, but their armour and internal bulkheads appear to be working to keep deaths down. All in all, a relatively happy outcome, save for the absence of the supreme commander.

Oh, I may as well deal with this.

Construct armour, construct FTL jammer, construct graviton gun.

"Yes, I can see you."

The Scarab Warrior maintains stealth, but shapeshifts a heavy shield and improved booster array. I create a construct of his exact appearance next to me to demonstrate exactly how thoroughly his concealment has been penetrated.

"That won't work. Surrender, and I am prepared to offer you parole with a neutral third party for the duration of the war. Otherwise, I will kill you."

"I have killed Lanterns before, meat."

"I doubt it. Oh, Scarabs have killed Green Lanterns, but you specifically? I doubt that they'd put a Scarab with that sort of experience somewhere like this, and… Anyway, Green Lanterns are police. Splendid people for the most part, but they're not dyed in the wool killers like we are. And I'm afraid that I'm only meat out of habit these days."

"So?"

He forms his left arm into a gun and I'm moving as it fires, secondary weapons appearing on his shoulders as he jinks in a doomed attempt to avoid my fire. False sensor images and holograms fire in all directions but none of them have desires and at this distance I can see the very particular desire-set of the scarab parasite itself. My graviton gun fires a moment later and hits his shield, which suddenly becomes about a thousand times heavier than it was a moment before. That doesn't harm the Scarab Warrior but it does make a mess of his shapeshifting and flight control. His secondary weapons strike my construct armour to little effect-

I guess Earth really is hard mode.

-as I close the distance, hitting his legs with my graviton gun and effectively crippling his acceleration. As well as probably causing all sorts of unpleasant internal injuries, though the scarab probably doesn't care much about that.

"Surrender-"

The scarab's arm gun fires again, shot passing over my right shoulder while the secondaries target my gun construct. I let it fade.

"-and you will not be killed."

"Die now and I will not burn your world!"

I stop dodging and form a construct shield, letting the scarab fire every weapon it can directly at me. The main gun is… Interesting. It's abrading layers, but I'm using an ablative design and it's… Holding up as well as it does when Guy tries to breach it. The secondaries are actually doing more damage with raw power, and it only takes the scarab about two seconds to notice that and shift its weapon.

I step out

and grab it in a construct clamp the moment I return to the material universe, x-ionised blades cutting weapon morphs and-. Being defied by his armour as he loses mass in favour of molecular reinforcement fields, which prompts crumbler rams from me. A second later and his arms and legs are gone, flesh and directionless armour floating in the void. I take a fraction of a second more to shove them further away, then tear off the secondary weapons with brute force using a draconic claw construct.

The scarab itself is usually located about halfway up the back. I ram ultra-sharp construct blades through its thinning armour and assimila-.

My construct armour is battered as the scarab explodes!

I let it push me away from the centre of the blast, scanning for any residue as I do so. One of the severed arms is in one piece, and we'll be able to identify the host species from the tissue therein. Maybe even the individual if they were from a slave species and we've got their pre-conquest records. But the armour the scarab made is rapidly turning to dust and sloughing off.

Marvellous. Another species with a built-in suicide switch to prevent assimilation. Though at least with the Reach they might reasonably have seen us coming and actually worked on a way to prevent it.

"Illustres to Orange Lanterns in theatre, don't bother trying to assimilate Scarab Warriors. They just self-destruct."

I return my attention to the battle to find that it's mostly over. Several bastions are still in one piece, but they're purely on the defensive and trying to hold out as long as they can. Ships and Lanterns are bombarding them and they can't respond. The few surviving Reach ships are being hunted down and… There goes the last one.

"Flag Captain, you have fleet command. I need to speak-"

Even muted as his mind is, Dox is easy enough to find.

"-to Commander Dox."

 

[Mr Zoat]

3rd July 2012
10:44 GMT -5

As expected, Brande is waiting outside of his quarters. I don't know if he was waiting for me, or waiting for Dox to allow him in. He spots me at once, but doesn't show any overt sign of surprise at my arrival.

"We won, I take it?"

"Yes. The plan was essentially sound. We're heading back towards allied territory now, and Lanterns are striking at Reach assets across the outer sphere. I'd be there myself, but this happened."

"I see."

"Brande, what happened? One moment Dox was in fine fettle, then radio silence."

"I'm… He was observing the fleet's manoeuvres relative to the Reach, and then the gordanians appeared and he collapsed."

"Was he injured?"

"Ah, not… In any obvious fashion. There was no assassin, no overload on the bridge."

"So he just-. Decided not to talk?"

"No, he… Slumped. Became unresponsive to the bridge officers, to me and to the medics who attended to him. After your assumption of command was confirmed he was removed from the bridge. They brought him here because he didn't appear to be in any danger of death and they wanted to keep the infirmary free in case they needed to receive casualties. He… Appeared to regain his awareness after perhaps ten minutes, at which point we were all ejected."

Alright. Something happened. He wasn't just ignoring us. It's hardly reasonable for me to complain if he had a stroke… Somehow, while wearing an orange power ring.

"I haven't kept up to date on the command structure of L.E.G.I.O.N. What's supposed to happen if the Supreme Commander is incapacitated?"

"Captains are supposed to follow their last orders to the best of their ability, pending the appointment of a successor. Vril assumes that his successor will need to be appointed by the N.E.M.O. Council, and as such there is no Vice-Commander or anything like that."

"Was I supposed to leave it up to them?"

"Vril has been working on the assumption that you would assume command of the Lanterns if he were incapacitated. But since the only point where those two command structures come together is with him… There's no provision for unified command on joint operations."

"So, what, did Dox think he was immortal?"

"I think it's more that he didn't see the need."

"I gave Dox the space he asked for so that he could establish himself. I've stayed away so I didn't distract from his authority. But if L.E.G.I.O.N. doesn't have a command hierarchy, that sounds like an issue I'm going to need him to change."

"I don't think that he will respond better to an ultimatum now, though I can see why you feel disappointed." He gestures to the door. "Shall we?"

"Illustres to Clarissi Dox. I'm outside. We need to discuss what just happened."

His head doesn't appear over my ring, but the door opens anyway. The inside is Spartan, a replica of his office onboard Ranx save for a bed in the corner. Dox doesn't look at me, staring into space from the chair he's slumped in, his uniform dishevelled. Was that from the medics?

I step inside, Brande following immediately behind. The door shuts a second later.

"Sir. What-?"

"Are you here to remove me?"

"No. Depending on what I hear here I may make a recommendation to the rest of the N.E.M.O. Council. However, at the moment the most I would suggest is that your position be changed to a purely strategic and logistical one. Before I make any such representation, I would like to know what happened from you."

"The ship. The Absolute Dominion. You're sure that it's Apokoliptian?"

"As sure as I can be without visiting either Apokolips or New Genesis and asking their shipwrights. I was feeling Grayven's soul when it fired."

He holds up his ring, the-. Oh. It's got a rather nasty-looking crack across the sigil.

"I was using my ring to maintain perfect awareness of the entire conflict zone. I knew the location of every mote of dust in the system." Breath hisses between his teeth. "I-. Was-. Drunk on data. And then the Apokoliptian ship opened a boom tube."

"You were overloaded?"

"I shouldn't have been. I can handle far more data than that."

I hold out my left hand and float his ring over to us as we attempt to read its presence in the Honden. Oh, we know this.

Dox's ring shimmers slightly as it repairs itself, then I hold it out to him. He doesn't turn his head, but his eyes turn my way and he looks… Uncertain.

"Spent a lot of time around the magicians, have you?"

"Yes. I need to understand how their work can aid me in the war."

"And you spent some time on Lantern Coutara's homeworld?"

"Magic." He frowns absently. "You think I've been ench-. No, that I've acquired a minor ability, and my ring picked up and relayed a data stream I haven't learned to parse. That-. Would explain-."

"I'm not sure exactly why, but there was a sudden burst of data transmission when Grayven started firing his main gun."

He turns his seat to face us, his gaze remaining distant… But in a more focused way as he straightens his uniform.

"I can create boom tubes. It should be simple enough to learn how to filt-."

"It was still a darn silly thing to do to put yourself in that position."

Now he focuses, eyes narrowing as he stares at me. "We have only a handful of Lanterns with any sort of arcane ability. There was absolutely no reason for me to assume that-."

"There was no reason for you to be scanning the system in that sort of detail. If you think that sort of field data analysis is necessary, then we get some more Lanterns who share your data fixation and have them do it. You're the Supreme Commander; you can't be on every major fleet engagement."

"This one needed to succeed. I couldn't trust anyone else with something this important."

"And your flag captain and I ended up running it anyway. I think that proves that you can."

"I'll review the.. data."

"No, you're going to stick something with lights on it to your forehead and go back to the bridge and reassure everyone that you're a competent commander, a belief that today took exactly the sort of knock you sent me to Earth to avoid."

"What are you talking about? My mind is fine, as long as I don't-."

"Because if people believe that you were singled out for an exotic attack which you need a device to shield against, that undermines you a lot less than them finding out that you metaphorically shot your own legs off because you're a data junkie."

"That… Is not an entirely unreasonable claim." He slides his ring back onto his left ring finger and extends a filament to his forehead and creates what looks like a Star Trek cortical stimulator. "Adequate?"

"I think so. But once this is over, you and I and Director Jeddigar need to have a talk about our organisational structures."

 

[Mr Zoat]

3rd July 2012
10:51 GMT -5

Dox walks confidently back onto the bridge, his eyes focusing not on the other members of the bridge crew or on the main screen, but on the numerous minor status indicators arranged around it. Of course Dox isn't going to be a summary man. The flag captain hasn't taken Dox's seat, so he just strolls on over to it and begins calling up status reports. Bridge crew hesitate uncertainly, then one after another their eyes alight on the shining lights of the empty box attached to his forehead. The light of false comprehension dawning, they return to their duty stations with renewed vigour.

My own entry to the bridge passes largely unremarked, and by the time Brand reaches the command podium everyone is focusing on their tasks. What to do now? Dox will give me an order in a couple of minutes just to reinforce his authority so I can't disappear. I'm getting updates from the ship's computer via my ring, but as Dox demonstrated he's far better at processing that sort of thing than I am. Mundane data, anyway.

I'm not completely convinced that the problem he had was with magic, exactly. But I felt Grayven doing something which coincided with the ship's main gun firing. It's perfectly possible to interact with magic using a power ring and I know that Dox is highly skilled with his. Yes, I've… Been assuming that it would require a level of spiritual awareness that he doesn't have, but I'm happy with the idea that there's more than one route to a skill.

The alternative is that he literally just overloaded his brain with data and actually gave himself a mini-stroke. I doubt that's what happened as his ring should have prevented it as long as he wanted to continue to be aware of the incoming data, but I don't think I'm going to look too closely into it just in case.

Instead, I look out through the hull of the ship at the other Lanterns in the fleet, spread out as they are across this segment of the outer sphere of Reach territory. The gleeful killers and retribution-seekers are raring to go, while the more disciplined ones are simply focused on the job before them. I-

"This is Vril Dox, Supreme Commander of L.E.G.I.O.N. and Clarissi of the Orange Lantern Corps. I have recovered from a minor neural shock created by the Apokoliptian Grayven and am now resuming command of the operation."

I raise my left hand slightly. "This is the Illustres. I yield command."

I then turn, looking back from the way we came, deeper into Reach space. Still don't have a great handle on how they think, and at this distance, without something specific to aim my gaze at, we'd have to have made a much bigger impression than we did for me to see much of anything.

I glance over to Dox and spot that he's moved on to the reports from the Lanterns attacking the periphery. That's as good an opening as any. I walk towards him, and he looks up as I pass through his command station's shield.

"Sir. How are we doing?"

"The Reach ships are pulling back. Most likely, they're going into survival mode until they can get either orders from their regional command or reinforcements."

"They're not just abandoning this part of the periphery? I thought that was how the Reach usually responded to a concerted attack. Those ships could make it to the next periphery region without too much difficulty."

"The most likely reason is propaganda. They know perfectly well that we're going to tell everyone on our side of the periphery exactly what they do with worlds they annex, with all the evidence and testimonies we can gather."

"They're destroying evidence?"

"Or creating a false narrative that we hunted down helpless trading vessels. Or perhaps they don't want to make themselves look weak to periphery worlds not presently aligned with us. The fact that they usually do a thing in a particular way is no indication that they will continue to do so forever. We might not be the first time that they've had to deal with significant opposition but we are the first time that someone has tried to envelop their entire border."

"We could ask-. Some of those Lanterns to take ships in one piece. If they're just armed merchantmen and there aren't any Scarab Warriors present, it's a manageable risk."

"No, we need them here."

He brings up a holographic image of a… World the Reach seized a generation or two ago. I'm not seeing much in the way of defences, which makes sense. We're the main threat to the Reach in this region, and they wouldn't put defences that could stop us on a world they don't particularly care about. They'd much rather counterpunch us with ships and scarabs than build fixed defences they can't support.

"What, all of them?"

"No, just the ones reliable enough to trust to do anything complex with their rings."

…

Fair point. Ragnar is a great fighter and master-at-arms, but I'm still not sure that he'd turn down an opportunity to duel with a Scarab Warrior in order to do something of strategic value. And most of the others… Their self-control isn't good enough to ensure that they'd stick to the mission with the orange light influencing them. Normally that's fine, but it does somewhat limit our options in situations like this.

"So what's special about it?"

"The dominant intelligent species is still populous and -to the best of our knowledge- unmodified."

I frown. "Collaborators?"

"We don't have any pre-annexation records. They weren't fond of other species before the Reach absorbed them, and the local monitoring was too good for a Darkstar team to penetrate for long enough to learn anything until recently. There should be a team there now, and we'll get a data burst once we arrive."

"You wouldn't be putting this level of resource in on the off-chance. What do you think is happening?"

"Material resources are plentiful in the universe. Energy is freely available in any of a hundred different ways. The Reach aren't primitive raiders like the gordanians or philosophical obsessives like the Apokoliptians. If they're holding a planet contrary to their usual manner of operating, there's something unique there that they want."

"You read my reports on the future of my own species, I assume."

"Certainly." Gosh, he's mellowed out all of a sudden. "And that's the approach I would expect them to take. Breeding a species for a useful trait if they can't engineer it into themselves or a device, and conditioning them to loyalty. That doesn't appear to be what has happened here."

"I assume that you want me on it?"

"I want you on the planet supporting the Darkstar team the moment we know what's going on."

I nod.

"Speaking of useful traits, do you know what's happening on Colu at the moment? The last I heard, a Green Lantern Honour Guard strike force was attacking the Computer Tyrants."

"Coluans would make better analysts than most alternatives. If they were willing to work with me."

"You're not even biologically identical to your tissue donor."

"He isn't biological any longer. But that's beside the point. And irrelevant. The Green Lanterns managed to land on Colu and destroy the Computer Tyrant defence force, but the majority of the population remain locked in the simulations. And with the Computer Tyrants effectively running on their neural structures and adapting to the Green Lantern Corps' attempts to extract them, it's a deadlock."

"Nothing you can do to help?"

"I'm the most intelligent Coluan there has ever been, but I can't outthink a billion other Coluans running in parallel."

"Do the Computer Tyrants have radio telepathy?"

"Not a version that's compatible with an unmodified organic brain."

"The Martians do owe us a few big favours. We could probably telepathically transfer people out of the simulation. Reduce the Computer Tyrants' hardware capacity."

"I'll give it some thought. Hm." He changes a screen, and turns the sound dampening around us right down. "We're being intercepted by a security fleet. Mercenaries. Capture as many as you can for questioning."

Check position… Feel them.

"Certainly, sir. Back shortly."

 

[Mr Zoat]

3rd July 2012
10:59 GMT -5

"…matter what you do to me, you damned bilge-rat!"

I suppose that in the grand scheme of things she's not wrong. I send a construct-spike up into the second cruiser's primary drive, my construct shield easily absorbing the fire from its frigate escort.

These clearly aren't Reach ships, just small fleets they hire to 'provide security' in the areas they're observing. Mostly to make sure that external parties don't get a better look at the Reach's true fleet capacity. And also to indulge in a little raiding here and there against targets who are reluctant to accept Reach 'protection'.

My construct shears snip through the shielding around the frigate's dorsal turret and slice it clean off the hull.

Still, on the off-chance that they're a reasonably upstanding private security firm, I'd rather not slaughter them out of hand. Heck, Dox would probably hire them on in a slightly modified version of their current role if he thought they'd keep to the terms of the contract.

Probably need to stick their ships back together a bit, first.

"I'm still perfectly willing to accept your surrender."

The cruiser that still has guns fires another volley… In my general direction. I'm close enough that sensor lag shouldn't be a problem, so I… Guess that their gunnery just isn't accurate against small targets?

"May I ask why you're so insistent about this?"

I'm not transmitting to their communications array. I'm broadcasting to every communications device on each of the ships, which means that the entire crew can hear that I'm saying that I'm not interested in fighting them.

"Because you're enslaving people's minds and forcing them to serve you!"

I frown, scoffing as the shears snip through the hull, severing a main power conduit and causing the ship's safeties to shut down most of the ship's systems.

"You work for the Reach."

"We do not work for the Reach!"

"You're a Security Fleet in the Reach Periphery. Who do you think you work for?"

"It's a development zone!"

"That's technically an accurate statement, yes."

I grab the now-disabled frigate and reduce its relative momentum to zero before shoving it into a cluster with the other crippled ships.

"In the same sense that I 'develop' a forest when I cut it down so I can build a mine. Look, you're running out of functioning ships. Once they all stop working the option for parole rather evaporates."

"I won't be-!"

There's a… Humming sound.

"Commodore?"

The still-mobile ships kill their acceleration and close what still-functioning gun ports they have.

"This is Captain Graan. The commodore-."

"Say no more. Do you have the authority to negotiate with me?"

"At the moment, yes. What are your intentions?"

"I'm going to check your crew for Reach plants or mental tampering. After that, you'll have a choice between leaving the region or remaining. I will warn you now that if you opt to remain, we will take a significantly closer look at what you've been doing in this region."

"And what else?"

"The Orange Lantern Corps doesn't hold naked self-interest against people. If your company made a deal with the Reach to keep yourselves alive… Heck, I'd probably have done the same in your position. But we're going to be working with the people of this region and expelling the Reach with extreme violence. If you or particular members of your company have gained too much notoriety, then I'm afraid that we'll give you a show trial and then kill you because we're not offering you a chance to live because we're nice but more because you're not worth the bother."

"I'm not-. We just do patrols."

"Then you probably won't have anything to worry about. And of course if you accept parole and come back while the war is still ongoing then we'll automatically kill you, so that's not a safe option."

Quick scan…

"I'm afraid that I'm going to need to rush you. My presence is required elsewhere."

"Is that something we can assist with?"

"Possibly. I'm willing to suspend judgement and offer payment relative to the level of aid you are actually able to provide."

I begin jamming communication out from the fleet. They can talk to each other, but they can't warn anyone else.

"We're liberating the Reach-held world of Callallan. Any data you can provide on Reach operations there would be appreciated."

"We have.. maps-?"

"We have maps. I was really more talking about-."

And there's the emergency transponder squawk Reach plants use.

"Excuse me a moment."

I step out

and reappear next to… Oh, that's a bit obvious. They weren't even trying to keep their mind-state anything like it's original shape. I grasp the purple flesh of the plant's bald head and brand. Are they-?

The sigil shimmers into existence and the Reach-programmed 'security' operative drops their communicator.

No suicide device. Low priority, or a long term asset, I wonder?

"Sorry, one of your crew just tried sending a message out. Looks like a class two neural overlay. Might I suggest vetting people in future?"

"You're-? On board?"

"Not on your ship. I felt that having a conversation remotely might make things easier. Make me a little less intimidating. So I'm afraid that I'm going to have to take this gentleman off your hands until we can get it removed. Can I ask-?"

"We will accompany you and offer you any and all aid. Some.. of our ships will need repairs-."

"No no, I'll just drag them with us. You're far too slow anyway. Please bear in mind that I'm going to be really upset if you try and backstab me."

"I will not forget."

"Good show."

I

step

back outside the ship and drag the more distant vessels together.

"Warp in two, one, now."

 

[Mr Zoat]

3rd July 2012
11:05 GMT -5

"-ly impressed that you didn't kill her."

"She… Wasn't a bad commanding officer. … What..?"

"What am I going to do with her?"

Since they've effectively surrendered, I'm doing the new Commodore the courtesy of communicating with him directly, rather than undermining him by sharing with everyone. And since he isn't an idiot, he's sharing the communication with the captains and commanders of the other vessels. They appear to have ratified his assumed authority for now, but he might well not continue to occupy that position once the crisis I represent has passed.

"Yes."

"Check for Reach reprogramming, review all of her communications with the Reach and known Reach factors. Reach programming will be removed to the best of our ability. Then unless she's done anything particularly infamous of her own free will, we'll hand her back to you."

"Some-. You left one of my crew with a glowing mark on his forehead."

"Removing Reach neural programming is delicate work, not something that it's practical to do in the field. That will prevent it having any further effect until I can hand him over to a L.E.G.I.O.N. specialist. The type of mark I used can be easily removed, and no one subjected to it has demonstrated any long term adverse effect."

"I see."

"Though you should feel free to consult an independent specialist to confirm what I'm telling you. I won't be of-"

The warp ends, and the small fleet and I appear in-system close to the planet.

"-fended."

I see from the wreckage that Dox has already destroyed the picket fleet and defence stations. Part of the fleet -including his flag ship- is over the capital, while the rest is moving in patrols across the system.

"Illustres to Clarissi."

"You captured them without difficulty?"

"One with Reach programming, one other possible. The ships are repairable and not really a threat to us. I brought them here because they might know-."

"I have their database. Pharmaceuticals. The locals are regarded as being 'compliant'-." There's a brief delay. "The Darkstars have located the Reach Assimilator and her Scarab Warrior bodyguard."

I look down at the planet-. There we are.

"Moving to assist."

This time I don't step out. The Reach probably can't stop me, but if they can the device would be placed on a compliant planet they wanted to keep hold of. I wouldn't expect to encounter that sort of device this early on, but it's not as if conventional Lantern flight is exactly slow.

"Are you in contact with Reach or local authorities?"

"The assimilator isn't responding. Local authorities are informing me that I'm invading a sovereign world."

"Well. Yes?"

"They emphasise that they are 'a world with no significant military force'."

"Are they trying to convince you that they're not a threat, and so we should leave?"

"Perhaps. It's also possible that they're trying to convince me not to bombard them. I haven't had enough exposure to their culture to reliably discern the implied subtexts. And given what just happened, I think I'll leave that for now."

I nod as I speed closer to the planet, now easily able to make out the areas of city. It's actually.. a bit like Maltus; they've gone for high rise cities separated by large expanses of wilderness. There's a more definite separation between the buildings rather than the semi-arcology that Maltusian cities have, but the general layout feels familiar.

"Do you want any of the Reach officials captured?"

"It might be helpful. Use your judgement."

"Will do. Illustres out."

The city I'm heading for is clearly in lockdown; armoured shutters are deployed over everything that has them, the streets are clear with an alarm playing loudly to make sure that it stays that way. The more important buildings have weak force fields protecting them, though they're so weak that I assume that they're just meant to protect against near-misses and infantry weapons.

One of the buildings that very definitely has both shutters and shields is the Reach 'embassy', and both of them have rather large holes in them where the Darkstars went in. I begin decelerating as I get close enough to participate in any fighting.

"Illustres to Darkstar team. With you shortly. Where do you want-"

A Darkstar flies out of the hole!

"-me?"

They keep going down the street, firing their masers back towards the building. The Scarab Warrior flies out a moment later, tanking the shots on a pair of heavy shields. Before I arrived, the comparatively weaker guns the Darkstars used would have meant that the Scarab Warrior probably wouldn't have bothered with the shields. Still, taking-.

A maser shot from a nearby building hits the scarab in the left wing, literally winging them. A shot from a different building hits the other wing, melting the membrane and part of the stronger leading edge. The warrior is just able to turn in time to block a micro missile volley but that exposes their back to their original target, who ceases their flight to give in both barrels.

Those masers are powerful, but they're powerful by easily concealed infantry weapon standards. The Scarab Warrior expands his armour and reconfigures his helmet to scan for the stealthed Darkstars.

"He's scanning."

Shots from three different directions slam into his face, staggering him and causing smoke to rise from his faceplate.

"We know."

The next attack is a heavy plasma beam, drilling through the armour on the right arm just behind the shapeshifted shield. It doesn't quite sever the limb, but the shield ripples and flows back to patch over what was clearly a serious injury. The Warrior responds with a positron ray along the exact path of the plasma beam, but the Darkstar has already repositioned themselves and the shot misses. If the Warrior weren't already blinded that would probably have hit, but scarabs can only repair their host's organic form so quickly.

"Alright. If you don't need me, I'll-"

A Darkstar rises up through the street behind the Scarab Warrior. They turn, shield in place with their wounded arm shifting into a sonic cannon. But it's their wounded arm, and the shift happens just a little too slowly as the Darkstar closes the distance and swings a sword through the outstretched limb. This time it is severed, the Darkstar following up with swings at the head and chest which go around the shield and slice through the armour. The Warrior staggers back and tries to expand their shield but with them blinded the Darkstar easily sidesteps and impales them.

"-leave you to it."

The Scarab Warrior collapses to the ground, Reach-citizen blood pouring out of the rents in their armour. The Darkstar makes a point of severing and then bisecting their head before glancing up at me.

"Do you want the scarab?"

I drop to the street, rip the weapon AI off the late Warrior's spine with a construct and attempt-.

It explodes.

"They saw us coming. I take it that the Assimilator is still in residence?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

3rd July 2012
11:11 GMT -5

Empathic vision shows me the positions of the Darkstars who follow me into the… I don't like calling it an 'embassy'. It isn't one. It's the centre of government for everything the Reach care to control directly, while maintaining a paper thin disguise that the opinion of the local 'rulers' matters at all. But there isn't another word for that. 'Assimilatorium' just sounds ridiculous.

I see locals cowering out of the way as I walk, but all of the blood I see is the right colour for it to have come from the garrison of Reach soldiers. I imagine that the Darkstars are rather enjoying the turnabout from the old way of things, when a garrison was difficult and a Scarab meant death, and I approve of the lack of collateral damage.

"Anyone home?! There's.. really nothing to be gained by hiding at this point!"

"So it would seem."

The Reach Assimilation Specialist in charge walks slowly into view, hands down and clearly visible. Some Assimilation Specialists get augmentations or scarabs, but my scans don't show anything like that here. This one is female, and the robes she wears are grey and green.

"Ah! Hello, Assimilation Specialist. I am the Illustres of the Orange Lantern Corps and I'm here to accept your surrender."

"I think that you are unduly optimistic."

"Probably, but I have to ask. It doesn't look good if we just go around slaughtering people who aren't actively resisting, and we need the popular support."

"And what would you do with me if I surrendered?"

I smile. "I'd put your face on the evening news on a thousand worlds. In practical terms it makes very little difference as… Well, we've won here."

"Are you certain?"

"Certain? No. If living on Earth has taught me anything, nothing is certain. That thing three generations of my species thought was a small planet turned out to be a giant frozen starfish." I shrug. "But as sure as I can reasonably be."

"You say that you are concerned with how this looks to a wider audience. Would-?"

"Look, I've listened to a lot of villainous monologues. Could you please skip to the actionable part of the threat?"

There's a slight hardening in her expression.

"Very well. I'm holding the entire infant population of this planet hostage. If I die, they all die. If I decide to kill them, they all die."

Hm.

"Alright, and that would look bad, but it doesn't change the strategic situation. Do you intend to negotiate for something, or do you just want me to know before you kill them? Because I have to warn you, I'm not a Green Lantern. I don't care all that much about the suffering of people I don't know."

"No one in the Reach government will consider me responsible for your people winning a few fleet engagements. But the people of this world will remain loyal to the Reach for as long as my hand remains to the activation switch."

I try a more detailed scan, and she smiles as she sees my eyes go orange.

"It's not literally a simple button. We have been aware that this war was coming for some time. There are a dozen sophisticated channels of communication linking me to the activation switch, and any interference at all will activate the system. A normal Lantern could stop perhaps two. A Lantern who specialised in data analysis like your Coluan or that space station AI might get as many as half."

"So… You expect us to let you stay here."

"In my estimation, there's a sixty percent chance that you will. Without a fleet here this planet isn't an active threat, and you haven't planned this war with the assumption that you'll be able to resupply locally. The adverse publicity wouldn't be a major blow, but it would be worse than ignoring me."

"And the other forty?"

"Thirty nine that you'll try and disarm it and fail. One percent that you'll kill me out of spite."

"None that we'll successfully disarm it?"

"No. We're rather good at death traps."

"Alright, well, be that as it may, I'm going to need to confirm the existence of this trap. I assume we can look at it without setting it off?"

"Certainly. The locals do like to visit their gestating offspring." She smiles, and Reach citizens… Don't have a good face for smiling. I'm not sure if it's the nose or the reduced mobility or the blatantly sinister intent… Not a good look. "Come with me."

I bow sarcastically as she walks past me, then follow her towards the normal entrance of the building. She waves at the somewhat intact console and the shutter covering the building tries to retract. It fails, the building's internal power network too badly damaged to make it do more than shudder. She stops then turns her head towards me.

"Would you mind?"

Treating a high ranked enemy as if they were a servant. This is going to be petty and annoying and if I wasn't fairly sure that I was going to win anyway I might walk back to the blasted hole out of spite.

I can detect some of the communication carriers. Intent as well as more normal forms of mundane and exotic transmission. Not a dozen, but they're sophisticated enough that I'm happy to accept the idea that there could well be others I'm not seeing. I can't tell from a cursory examination whether or not I could fake them to a sufficient standard to satisfy the dead man's switch system.

But.

There are still plenty of ways to prevent her dead man's switch going off. Sticking her in a medical coma and leaving her there while a telepath manipulates her thoughts into the 'right' shape would probably work, because a 'perfect' system is still depending on a perfectly flawed trigger condition. But killing a large number of people at exactly the same time will require a device to do the actual killing, and blocking that sounds a heck of a lot easier than trying to interfere with the detection end of the system.

"Of course not."

I slam a construct crumbler gauntlet into the shutter and it decays to dust.

"There you are."

Ring, transmit to the Darkstars.

Compliance.

Any truth to what she's saying?

Rather than a verbal response, someone on the team sends me a data file.

The locals… Reproduce in a way which uses eggs as a stage. More like fish eggs than bird eggs, the requirement for an aquatic environment and protection means that each city has a structure dedicated to housing them while they develop. When the Reach took the planet they took control of the incubators and booby trapped them. No problem with putting your egg in and taking it out seven months later as long as the planet stays loyal, but it means that every single family has a hostage while their egg is in there.

And naturally the Reach has been watching closely to make sure that everyone uses their incubators and no one is building any outside of their control. Still not totally sure why that was their only point of control; the Reach are usually really subtle in the early stages, and with direct access to their eggs I'd have expected them to go in there with the neural pruning.

I'll have to wait until we arrive to get a closer look.

 

[Mr Zoat]

3rd July 2012
11:23 GMT -5

"I clearly underestimated you."

The Assimilator and I smile at each other. Very briefly smile at each other.

"This is some high grade… I almost want to say evil, and I don't believe in evil."

Pharmaceuticals. Yeah. Turns out that those pharmaceuticals are harvested from foetuses. Not in destructive quantities, as far as a quick scan shows, but they're basically overfeeding them to ensure the highest levels of production.

"And you can't synthesise this stuff more easily?"

"No. For some reason this is the only method that works. We've tried foetal cells, foetal tissue cultures, vivisected adults… We even tried editing the eggs so that they remain in the egg stage of development indefinitely. Nothing else works."

"Oh, I can believe it. That's impressive biological security. I'm sure that if breaking it was possible, you'd have done it."

"I still believe that we could. But at this point, it simply isn't worth the additional effort on a compliant planet."

"Have you considered a completely different approach?"

"Several. Did you have one in mind?"

"My homeworld has a number of time travellers living on it. Apparently, when you conquer my species, you remove all of the ones with useful traits from the general population and transplant them into an artificial environment where they're raised to revere the Reach. You gain-. Or rather, your successors, gain their loyalty by treating them as valued servants. Sometimes, social engineering works just as well as biological engineering."

"Why limit ourselves?"

"Because in every example we've been able to study, Reach biotechnological domination is inevitably followed by extinction. You people don't maintain servitor races. And then you've got places like this-"

I note the weak glow of my armour's rune stone with a lack of surprise. Natural alchemy. Which only works as long as no alien elements are introduced. It would limit the native species' growth if it's a required part of their physiology, but since the Reach don't use magic at all there probably isn't a way for them to bypass it.

"-where that approach doesn't work. As I understand it, the Reach hasn't even studied long term stable social engineering. I mean, you people like being in control of other species, but you always run them into the ground. It defeats the object of the exercise."

"'Time travel'?"

"Oh, my homeworld has all kinds of crazy things. Two years ago a god moved everyone under the age of eighteen to a parallel universe, and last month a sentient plant took over a continent. We have AIs that run on vacuum tubes and about fifty organic and semi-organic species that we know about on an isolated planet with no faster than light travel. It's like the Source got high and decided to dump every drug-fuelled flight of fancy onto one planet so that the rest of Creation wouldn't be bothered by them. Oh, and also, you were wrong."

"Wrong about what? Have you found a way to bypass the incubators in the pharmaceutical production?"

"No, I mean, you're wrong about me needing to bypass your dead man's switches. You see, if this was happening later in the war, you'd be right: I wouldn't care. Leaving you here wouldn't make our life any more difficult and trying to winkle you out might. I don't want to risk the lives of their unborn; the very notion is abhorrent. But today? Today is the first day of the war. We need to be able to show our allies a clean sheet. No setbacks. We know that we can't keep it up; we won't try to convince people that we can. But today sets the tone, and we need the tone to be 'it'll be a long war, but the Reach can't stop us'."

"We can stop you. And we will. I have stopped you, and I am merely a humble administrator."

"I never said that you couldn't. We merely need to be able to give that impression. At least, today."

She looks mildly curious.

"Do you intend to bribe me? If my loyalties change, the system will detect that."

"No. No, I want to send you back to the Reach with your loyalties intact. Which might be tricky if there were other worlds like this, but… There aren't."

One of the most fundamental desires of all species: propagation. Continuation. Species that don't have a desire in that direction are either synthetic or spawners, and the locals are neither. Our… Shared dispassion for the idea notwithstanding, it is a common and powerful desire. This metaphysical weight is why people react so strongly to any external imposition on their reproductive traditions, foolish as that may be. Our own lack of any real connection to these people is irrelevant; we can harness their desires perfectly well. And since those desires focus on the very objects we wish to move…

"World Altering Wave."

The world rings orange, and every gestating egg vanishes.

The incubators flare with incendiaries a fraction of a second later, but I'm already bowing my head in relief. The Assimilator just stares.

"They're-. What will you tell people now that they're dead?"

"No one's dead, you fool. I'm an Illustres." I hold out my left hand. "Illustres to Clarissi. We're going to need some amphibious incubation units. The type… Seven? Is probably closest. The particulars are on the database."

"Understood. Fatalities?"

"All of the Reach personnel except the Assimilator. I was going to send her on her way. I don't think we'll get much out of an interrogation, and I'd like them to be scared. All of the eggs are presently secure and awaiting the construction of facilities for their continued incubation."

I look over to the somewhat shocked Assimilator.

"Can I trust you not to kill yourself before we can get you a ship?"

"How..?"

"Fuck you, that's how." I turn to the Darkstars still shadowing us. "Jade, can your squad spare someone?"

Her exomantle shimmers back into phase. "I was wondering if you remembered who I was. Kellick."

A tall but strangely thin Darkstar steps forward, looming over the Assimilator.

"The Illustres wants her protected pending deportation. Make sure that nothing unfortunate happens to her."

"If I must. This way, Eminence."

I smile as the somewhat stunned Assimilator is led from the building. Yes, we should probably get her on a ship relatively quickly.

Ring, planetwide.

Compliance.

"This is the Illustres of the Orange Lantern Corps. I'm currently holding your young in a pocket universe, and replacement incubators are being produced even as we speak. The Reach influence in this region of space is being destroyed. Our Supreme Commander will be in contact with your government with more details shortly."

End.

Compliance.

I turn back to Jade.

"That went well."

 

[Mr Zoat]

3rd July 2012
12:02 GMT -5

A crowd stares up in a mixture of hope and dread as the incubator takes shape. Since it would take far too long to ship an incubator in, Dox decided to solve the problem by handing orange rings to a cross section of expectant parents and 'egg tenders' and providing them with copies of the plans. That also serves to rather neatly prove that we've got no interest in holding their young hostage while also giving them a taste of the power of a power ring.

Not all of them are… Coping well, and I can see that I might have to disarm some of them before too long, but-

The first huge incubator network is complete, some of the temporary Lanterns flying at once towards the next site, while others remain on station as if daring me to fail to hold up my end of the bargain.

-they're performing well enough for now.

And we will repay them by fulfilling their desires.

An orange ripple passes over the structure, eggs at various stages of development reappearing as they were the moment they left, my ring and the Ophidian checking that their status is exactly as desired. The deputised locals swarm forwards, orange strobes and mundane senses rushing to confirm my work.

Jade watches cautiously.

"I didn't know you could do that."

"Life is a marvellous learning experience."

Her eyes narrow slightly.

"Have you done that before?"

"No. But between myself, the Ophidian, the shields the Venturians made and my understanding of the orange light, it was fairly… Intuitive?" I smile and raise my eyebrows. "Want a go?"

She looks around at the slightly erratic deputy Lanterns standing guard over the eggs.

"I think I'll pass."

"You know… Now the war's started…" I nod my head to the right. "It's been over a year since your release."

"Yes. You missed the anniversary."

"No. When we met, when we started dating, those are important anniversaries. When you got released is less important than when you chose to take a bullet for M'gann, because that was a choice. After you made it, it was inevitable that you'd get released."

"You always blow that out of proportion."

"Do you want to mark your release from prison?"

"Do you want to give me superpowers?"

"No."

"Oh?" She raises her eyebrows. "But you're offering anyway."

"I'm a pernicious individualist. It has to be your choice."

She looks away, eyes flicking from one part of the crowd to another.

"Thanks."

"Of course, there are other options. I have no hang-ups about you getting a power ring, and I'm pretty sure that Dame Carol could get you a violet ring."

"Mom's from Vietnam, not Japan."

"The Zamarons aren't prejudiced. And you've got no idea how smug I'd feel if you started making constructs powered by your love for me."

Jade gives me a small smile. "I have some idea. But why exactly is it that you don't want to give me super powers?"

"A ring is a device that you'd have to work to master, the same as every other Lantern. You know I got my ring by pure luck. Alan got his the same way… You wouldn't feel indebted, or… Violated."

"That's why you don't think I want it. That's not the same thing."

I close my eyes for a moment, exhaling softly through my nose. Then I step towards her, putting my arms over her shoulders and bringing my face closer to hers.

"Because I know you. What you value, how you think about me, about… Well, Ra's al Ghul."

"Not going with Dad, there?"

"No, that's personal. Ra's had plenty of followers, and…" I glance upwards at where a chunk of the L.E.G.I.O.N. fleet lurks over the city. "Now I do, too."

"You've had those for a while."

"But you didn't see me with them. And since I know that saying I wanted to give you super powers would make you feel inadequate and saying I didn't would make you feel like I was holding out on you, I think that my current tightrope routine between all of the people you don't want me to be is the best approach."

She looks… Not annoyed. Curious, maybe.

"So you're saying that everything's a front; you'll say whatever you need to say to make me… Whoever I want to be."

"Oh, no, there's a real me here as well. But I exist in the patterns and approaches, not the individual actions or phrases. There is nothing I won't do but there are objectives I won't pursue. Things I don't want. I love the Jade you are and the Jade you will make yourself. I don't love a Jade who lives in my head that I'm trying to turn you into."

She smiles, and I feel her relax slightly.

"You know, I've warned my entire squad against dating empaths?"

"Dating your entire squad would be a lot of ways to split my time. Not.. that.. they're unattractive…"

"Better them than my mother."

"Oh, no, between the two options Paula's definitely the be-."

I see her roll her eyes for a fraction of a second before she pulls my head down, pressing our lips together. Between her armour and mine, we're not really able to hold each other close here, but I treasure every moment we-.

"Clarissi Dox to Illustres. Are you experiencing any difficulty?"

We separate and she steps away, returning her helmet to her head as she takes off in the direction of her squad.

"Illustres here. No, no trouble." I take another look at the eggs. "The first batch of returned eggs are unharmed, and I'll be moving to restore the rest once they've built the incubators. How are negotiations with the government going?"

"Adequately. They have no desire to work with us, but they would rather have us here than the Reach. Assuming that you are able to complete your work, I believe that I'll be able to secure this world for our alliance."

"Mission accomplished, then?"

"Yes. For today."

 

[Mr Zoat]

3rd July 2012
20:13 GMT -7

"…seemed to get on well."

Luna nods thoughtfully as we trot through the Canterlot palace.

"We did not get much of a chance to speak with Circe prior to Sunset's ascension. It is… When We first spoke with our sister 'pon our return to Equestria, We were… Struck, by how she had changed. Though her outward aspect was as it had been when We.. left, her manner of speech-."

"You-."

"Not merely the words. Much as We might like if it the lexicon of ponykind had remained unchanged, We did not expect such stasis. E'en in Our youth, the manner of speech of the tribes varied greatly. An aristocrat from Unicornia might struggle to understand or be understood by a farmer from Puddingville."

It's the way she says those names with a straight face.

"Nay, it is the way she spoke, not the words she used. After a thousand years of life, t'was not merely the words which had changed. She is a very different pony. Yet, at times, she is not. When We speak of our youths together 'tis as if no time has passed at all, yet when I speak with her on some point of history she grows… Almost… Vacant, for a moment."

"It's probably not that easy to remember a whole era without a reference."

"She does something similar when We ask about a point of law or legal custom. No doubt she is casting her mind back to the situation which led to it arising, but it is… Strange to see. A face so familiar briefly becoming so unfamiliar."

We pause on a cobbled veranda, looking out across the artfully arranged flowerbeds. It took the gardeners a little while to get it back under control after Sunset's floramancy test, but they've done sterling work.

"I suppose we've both got that to look forward to." I shrug, and I actually manage it without flipping myself over. "I could ask Hippolyta if Circe does something like that, but they're both roughly the same age so I'm not sure if she'd notice."

"It did not occur to either of us to ask Starswirl if becoming… We did not say 'alicorn'. That word meant something different in those days."

"What did you call… What you are?"

"Starswirl described what we would become to us as 'winged unicorns'."

I frown. "So were you not meant to have Earth Pony attributes?"

"No, t'was always the aim to grant us the magics of all three tribes. Rockhoof did query the name at the time. Starswirl stated that he chose it because the wings and horn would be the most outwardly visible sign of our change."

"Aside from being more than twice the size of a normal pony."

Luna smiles. "From what We remember of his expression, We do not think that he entirely anticipated that aspect of our metamorphosis."

I raise my eyebrows. "Sunset was right about him not knowing what he was doing?"

"We would not put it quite that way. He knew that combining the magics of the three tribes in a single individual would produce a change, and the fact that we survived indicates that he…"

She stares impassively at my face.

"You are wondering how many times he attempted it before us."

"Little bit."

"You have a most suspicious mind."

"I-." … "Yeah, maybe. I'm not trying to say that he was just.. transforming you to show that he could or anything, but Sunset was pretty clear what could go wrong if the caster misjudged things. If he couldn't be certain exactly what would happen, a certain amount of trial and error might have been necessary."

"It could." We both turn -Luna with more grace than I- as Celestia emerges from behind a tall bush. "But we lived in an isolated manor near a small village. If anypony had gone missing, we wouldn't have missed the hue and cry."

I raise my eyebrows. "'Hue and cry'?"

Celestia bows her head slightly. "Luna's way of speaking is rubbing off on me. It did use to be mine as well."

"Sister." Luna walks over to nuzzle her. "How fare you this eve?"

"I am…" She sighs. "Sunset has been spending time with Twilight."

"Yes?" I shrug again. "She sees Twilight as a kindred spirit and fellow magic talent. She doesn't let the fact that Twilight's your student get in the way, and… Twilight doesn't let the fact that Sunset works for me get in the way."

"Generous of her."

"Either the law applies to everyone or there isn't a law, just degrees of privilege." I frown. "Where did Spike's egg come from?"

Luna wing-prods me and I look away.

"Question withdrawn."

Celestia smiles at her sister. "Did you have a good time?"

"We met many interesting humans, and together we valiantly 'muddled through' the pedagogical parts of the event. We found considerable relief in seeing such experts as out of their depths as We often are, and think that We would like to attend future such events."

"I'm glad. And you, Grayven?"

"Sunset's kept me up to date as she goes, and since I don't really use magic in the way Luna does it doesn't have the same impact for me."

"Have you enjoyed your time in Equestria?"

"Yah. Just the rest-cure I needed. And from what I've been picking up, Artemis feels the same way."

"I'd glad that you feel that way. I.. have a request to make. I-."

"Sorry, but I'm a one-mare stallion."

"That-."

"Though one of my brothers is single. Ah. We've been out of touch-."

Her head rises and her eyes narrow. "It was you! You're the reason why my guards think that Twilight and I-. Luna, stop laughing!"

Luna's mouth twitches spasmodically and she bangs her right forehoof on the cobbles in an attempt to bring herself back under control.

"We-. We are sorry. We are sorry." Luna waves her right forehoof. "Pray, continue."

Celestia takes a deep and calming breath. "I would like to try to reconcile with Sunset Shimmer once again. Since you-" I wince. "-are on good terms with her… Is there a problem?"

"Your last meeting with her ending with her storming off wasn't enough of a clue?"

"Sunset storming off was how a great many of our conversations ended before her… Time away. She always came to her senses-."

"You mean 'acquiesced'. Look, I can accept that you genuinely care about her wellbeing and are just really bad at showing it, but… Do you genuinely not understand what she's angry about? The way you refused to either teach her or directly tell her that you weren't going to teach her? The way you concealed information and then acted like she was in the wrong when the whole reason she became your student was to learn magic from you? Am I getting through? Or has the millennia-long obsequiousness of an entire country reduced you to the point where you can no longer understand that you can be wrong?"

Celestia regards me levelly. "If you do not wish to help-."

"I want to help her, and I'm not going to talk her into talking to you again if it's just going to end up the same way it did last time, with her curled up under my wing and crying because you can't get your head around the idea that your living plush toy has thoughts and feelings of its own!"

Celestia sits, eyes wide.

"Yeah." I look away. "I'll mention it. And when this blows up in your face, maybe she'll do what I suggested and forget that you exist."

Celestia's lips tremble, then she clambers to her hooves and turns to leave.

…

"Though if you want my advice on an approach…" Celestia stops. "Don't talk about the past at all. Just do what she wanted from the start: teach her an actual magic lesson. Something she can't learn from anywhere else. I suggest teaching her how to control the sun, since my understanding is that you're the only pony who can do that. And think about what she's already told you."

 

[Mr Zoat]

Back Seat

4th July 2012
14:01 GMT -2

"…afraid that with the war kicking off, I'm not going to be available for team missions or training."

Kaldur nods. "I understand. Are you sure that you can spare the time to tell me in person?"

I give him a mildly reproachful look. "Ow, Kaldur. Ow."

He looks away. "That was not what I meant."

"Clarissi Dox wants me as a mobile reserve, so I can jump in if things start to go pear shaped. And since I can appear and disappear at will on our side of the front line and could get blocked on the Reach side, being on Earth is actually better than being on the Reach side. Besides."

We both look over to where officials from various Atlantean city states-. And Venturia, are monitoring the counting of the votes in the plebiscite.

"I really think this sort of thing should be monitored by all of the interested parties so that no one can argue about it later."

This is actually the first time I've seen Proconsul Ptra, heir presumptive of Venturia. Presumed by Poseidonis, and presumed very incorrectly. King Cyprian greeted her with the exact minimum amount of enthusiasm not to give direct insult, and hasn't said a word to her since. She seems somewhat morose. I suppose she'd rather assumed that returning the wayward city to her stepmother's control was something she'd do just by existing, and here she is being told not merely by her cousin but by… About ninety eight percent of the adult population of her 'home city' that she was dead wrong.

I'm empathetic, but… Actually, not sympathetic. This situation could easily have been avoided. If they hadn't wanted me to shoot the hawk, they shouldn't have left it there.

"Lord-. King Cyprian has been scrupulously honest in his dealings."

"Good show. I assume that there's been discussion on the Atlantean end about how to handle trade, and an official border? Because there's two ways this can go, and not planning for one of them wouldn't be very clever."

"There are… Several outlines. For the most part, Atlantean cities do not greatly concern themselves with unclaimed territory outside of the city limits."

"Right, but they were all Atlantean city states. If the United States built an underwater colony I imagine that exactly where the border was would be rather important."

"Though they will be a separate country politically, culturally Venturia is still Atlantean. We still have more in common with them than with America, so they do not arouse the same degree of concern."

"I don't really know Atlantean inter-city politics. How much is this shaking things up?"

"King Orin has been quite… Vocal, about not wanting to be blindsided like this again. He intends to tour all of the Atlantean city states and confer in person with their leaders."

I raise my eyebrows-.

"He made such a tour when he first succeeded to the throne, but usually such things are left to the members of the national senate to bring to his attention if a problem arises. Given what happened here, he believes that he needs to become more directly involved."

"He's right." Kaldur glances at me. "He wouldn't have let this lie if he'd known about it, would he?"

"He would not."

He sighs, and looks around the counting hall once more.

"How is the war progressing?"

"The first day went about as well as it could have. On the other hand, we always knew that the Reach response to an attack would be weak to begin with, and that if the Reach Empire was the size of this room, the bit we've taken off them would be about the size of-"

I reach up and pull a single hair out of my head, then hold it out.

"-my hair. We've literally shaved a hair's breadth off their territory."

"It has only been a day."

"I know. I just want to manage expectations."

Looks like the counting is drawing to a close. The last of the ballot slips are being tabulated, three people signing off on each batch to make finding out who was at fault for any irregularities a little easier. That was a bit of a sticking point, actually. Cyprian was fine with a ballot, but had a little trouble with the concept of a secret ballot. He thought it seemed inherently dishonest, and… Having thought about it, I can sort of see where he was coming from. King Orin -coming from America- naturally assumed that ballots would be cast in secret. But in the end, we came up with a registration system which they could both live with.

Senior functionaries confer briefly, then the fellow from Shayeris whom the competing parties compromised on to oversee the whole thing approaches the two kings. I don't hear what they say, but from the relief on King Cyprian's face and the slight strain on King Orin's I don't think there's been any sort of surprise. But they shake hands, and I suppose that's as much as we can really hope for.

"Is Cheshire participating in your war?"

"Jade is, yes. Killed her first Scarab Warrior yesterday."

"You told us that they were what the Reach used to counter Lanterns during their war with the Green Lantern Corps."

"Yes, but they didn't do that by letting the Green Lantern Corps ambush them one at a time. In the early stages of the war Green Lanterns who'd been properly briefed took out the Scarabs on bodyguard duty fairly easily. Now that they know we're coming for them I'm sure that the Reach will be redeploying their elite warriors. I imagine we'll see… Clone infiltrators with implanted scarabs on our supply worlds within a few weeks. Ambush packs on worlds we liberate who will only go active if they get an Orange Lantern or L.E.G.I.O.N. officer on their own. They'll learn the most effective weapons to use against us, and… It'll get harder. And we managed this hair by bringing pretty much the entire Corps to bear on a single narrow front."

"And you cannot replicate that."

"We can, but that would mean leaving a colossal volume of space without Lantern support." I shake my head. "It wasn't really what I wanted, but we're probably going to have to copy the Green Lantern training system; bring people to Maltus for basic training and then have a field-mentorship with a more experienced Lantern."

Well. Field mentorships, because sending out a single neophyte with a single veteran is asking for the veteran to get mobbed and the new Lantern to be left panicking and unable to do anything. I suggested squads of five to Dox, one actual veteran, two with some experience and two just out of basic. He responded that a fixed number just told our enemies how many they had to watch out for, and he's not wrong. Reach intelligence on us is as bad as we can make it, but they're really good at keeping track of what's happening in their own territory and sharing that information. Data compilation and utilisation is their greatest strength, which is why my next stop is Mars.

"Will you speak to our other friends while you are here?"

"Of course. I'm not going to leave long-term without saying anything. And I need to talk to M'gann about the situation on Mars anyway."

"Do you believe that there has been a new development?"

"I hope not, because I want to borrow a lot of Manhunters, in the same sort of way that I'm borrowing Venturia's wizards."

"They may be reluctant to involve themselves in a war with the Reach."

"Then I won't involve them in that. There are a lot of uses for networked telepaths, and they do rather owe me."

 

[Mr Zoat]

19th August 2010
16:08 GMT -5

I study the blood sample carefully.

Hm.

I had assumed that with the wide variety of super powers on offer on this.. crazy Earth, that it wouldn't be all that hard to enhance myself further. Except that when you take out all of the ones which -for some reason- flat out don't work on me, are lost in the mists of time or have… Really unpleasant side effects, there's very little left.

In… Theory, I could have managed the side effects of Venom Buster, but… I'm… Rather more attached to my body than that. It would make me tougher, but not tough enough for… Frankly, I think the ring would turn me back the moment I stopped focusing on the advantages. Who wants to be a hulking grey brute with no feeling in their skin?

My first choice was the General Immortus's immortality serum, for obvious reasons. But the man himself claimed that he only knew how to make it using substances that he'd already used up, and he didn't know what those substances were composed of because he ran out before the invention of mass spectroscopy. Finding a replacement was the whole reason why he became a supervillain in the modern era.

My second choice was that formula Lex Luthor used a few times in the comics to gain kryptonian powers. That would have had the side benefit of helping Mia with her underpowered human physiology, as well as gaining me access to them myself. But alas, it looks like Mr. Luthor hasn't developed anything like that on this Earth. And I've been looking very thoroughly.

Gingold? Like 99%+ of the population I'd die in horrible agony if I tried consuming it in the doses needed to gain the preternatural elasticity Mr Dibny uses it for. Miraclo? Has all sorts of side effect on the human body, and while I could undo them with the ring… 'Addictive' and 'orange power ring' are two things that don't go together at all well.

A veritable cavalcade of disappointments. Honestly, I got a bit desperate. I've been looking in all sorts of places for augmentations that actually work on me… Just about everywhere. The research notes of long-dead mad scientists. Government research programs that have long since been shut down. The occasional alien vivisectionist. And some of what I turned up is useful.. in.. various ways, but almost none of it could do what I wanted.

But this stuff…

I hold up the pale green vial.

This looks like it works. The animals I've tested it on get stronger, tougher and heal faster. And otherwise, neither their behaviour or appearance change. Well, not beyond the more dominant position they take in their social group as a result of being a whole lot stronger. It doesn't have an adverse reaction to my blood, ring simulations predict no negative effects… And if it does have some, it's all mundane so it's nothing that I can't reverse.

…

Right then. No need for anything as primitive as a syringe, but-.

Ring, monitor physiology and behaviour and inform me of any changes from baseline. Confirm command.

Command confirmed!

Right then. Dose me.

Right away!

Usually when I get an injection, there's an uncomfortable feeling of pressure in the vein receiving the injection. And I'm half-braced for that now, even though I know that the actual amount of the stuff entering my body at any one location is far too small for me to be consciously aware of it. If I wasn't.. studying it by ring-.

Yep. Yep. Involuntary muscle spasms-. I collapse to the ground, letting it happen but making sure that the ring protects me from any actual harm. My research showed that this only-. Lasts a minute or so in a human-sized animal, so it's just a matter of riding it out. A little disturbing to not be in control, but the ends justify the means.

Ugh.

Okay. I float up off the ground and back to my feet, flexing my arms as I do so. As expected, there's no outward sign of a change. I need to test it, but… Well, the ring could easily replicate the level of resilience and regeneration that would give me. And will, since I used it to give me something that I want. Which… Means I need to take it off. For actual testing, anyway. For just walking around I should keep it on for a little while, just to make sure that there aren't any untoward consequences in the immediate term.

I walk calmly out of my workshop and head in the direction of the Mountain's gymnasium. I haven't really used it much, but I was curious about how my ring-crafted muscles performed after I first got here and did enough to give me an idea about what my new limits are. Which means that I've got a performance baseline to compare my new abilities to.

Not much going on today. Mia and M'gann should be out of school by now, but they're both involved in after school activities so them not being back yet isn't a surprise. Wallace is.. probably doing something similar in Central City. Kaldur might live here, but unlike me he is a full time 'partner' of his mentor… Though I'm not exactly sad that Lantern Sur doesn't spend more time on Earth. Not that he was rude in the… One, five minute meeting that we had, but I… Don't really want to be exposed to the Guardians of the Galaxy at this point. Of course, of all the Lanterns who could be relied upon to keep the existence of a new Corps quiet…

The gym equipment is exactly as we left it after Mia's last workout session. Kaldur uses it as well, but he prefers simple things like dumbbells and barbells or just straining himself on a mat rather than the various more complex machines. If he wants to run, he goes outside rather than using a running machine. If he wants to get a full-body workout he goes swimming at extreme depths.

Okay, ring off-. Hah. Scan environment first.

Nothing untoward detected!

Then the ring comes off. I crouch and put it down on the ground next to the leg press. The weight… Is something that would be manageable but require effort with my normal muscles. That'll do for a first test. I stand, take off my jumper and drop it down next to my ring. Then I climb on board, laying back and putting my feet on the mechanism of the press. Settle in place and then push-.

Heh.

I push up and down, and up and down, and it's like it's nothing at all. I can barely feel the weight. I put it in a position which causes a continual strain and… Yes, I can hold it easily.

It worked. I mean, of course it worked, I've tested it thoroughly. But seeing -and in this case doing- is believing. I push against the press again and then relax, and then repeat a further eight times to check that it isn't… I don't know, a short term effect or something. No, just as easy as at the start. I'll need to test the added endurance later.

I get up, walking around the machine to move the pin… Did Kaldur ever tell me how much he could push on these? I'm coming up blank, but my memory is only perfect when I'm wearing the ring. That felt like nothing, so… Half again? Double? Double sounds about right. I move the pin and then lie back down.

Push…

I can feel it, but it still feels like less weight than the lower weight used to. Of course, these are standard gym machines designed for fit but essentially mundane humans. None of the records I got on the formula I used suggested that it could grant true super strength…

I do ten repetitions, then try to hold it in an awkward position. Mild burn, but I'm fairly sure I could-.

"Oh. Hey."

I turn my head as Artemis-. The name brings a smile to my lips. As Artemis walks in, wearing black jogging bottoms, a green sports bra and.. she's still got her mask on. She looks around for a moment and then marches over to one of the rowing machines.

"Good afternoon."

"Didn't think you worked out here."

She puts her towel and water bottle down beside a rowing machine, then moves the seat a little forward. She.. is a fine looking young woman, the tight clothing emphasising her athletic physique and secondary sexual characteristics.

"I usually don't, but I want to keep a record of my performance."

I move the plate back to the rest position and sit up, watching her as she takes her seat and reaches forward to grip the handles.

I… Want her.

 

[Mr Zoat]

Her legs bend, the muscles beneath the skin of her bare shoulders shifting and her breasts answer the call of gravity to the best of their bra-bound ability as she leans towards the pulley, then shifting back as she straightens her legs and then pulls the handle towards her so that it's resting just under them.

How to approach her?

I stand, walking over to my own weights and moving the pin… All the way up. That seems about right for unusually muscular humans and low-tier super strength. Boosted strength? I shouldn't sound like I'm claiming to be in Superman's league. Then I sit back down and take position, my eyes moving back to Artemis as her limbs tense and relax in the smooth motion of someone well accustomed to the machine they're operating.

I push against the footplate and… Yes, that's a bit more like it felt on my first time. Keep up a steady pace-. I find myself matching Artemis's delicious movements without really thinking about it, and… I suppose that she makes a reasonable metronome substitute.

"Are you going to be checking me out the whole time?"

"Probably. But I wouldn't want to be unfair about it." I pause with the plate in the halfway position, then take hold of my t-shirt and pull it off, tossing it to the side. With no ring on I've started to sweat normally, and while I'm no expert on masculine beauty… I wouldn't look like this if I didn't really like looking like this. "Fair?"

"Ahh. That's… Not how it works."

"You ogled Kaldur in the middle of a mission, in all of our heads." I carry on pushing the weight, keeping my own rhythm. "You can be a hypocrite if you want, or you can take the opportunity to engage in reciprocal staring."

She appears to take that on board, and returns to her exercise.

"What happened to your ring?"

"I can't get good data if it constantly refreshes me."

"What do you mean by that?"

"The ring stops me getting hot, or short of breath, or tired. It's great while I'm wearing heavy armour, but I can't exercise like that. What brings you here?"

"It's free."

I snort with amusement. "Good answer."

"And I'm pretty sure that criminals watch the gyms, see if they can spot the local crime fighters working out."

I chuckle. "Yeah, I can imagine Batman going down to his local gym, and everyone around him staring at his scars and deciding that he must be a super-tough mob enforcer."

Hm. There's something satisfying about moving a pile of weights this big. I'm not exactly… Feeling a burn, but it.. feels different. I assume it's just that I haven't adapted to the dramatic change in strength, but I'll have the ring check just in case.

"Batman's got scars?"

"He's a baseline human who fought the Gotham mobs at their worst. Of course he's got scars."

"Yeah, I-." She makes a small frown, then face-shrugs. "Just.. kinda assumed that he was too good for that."

"Very good at what he does, yes. Invulnerable, no. Everyone's got to start somewhere. He started using the bat motif after he nearly got stabbed to death by an underage prostitute on his first night back in Gotham."

"Robin tell you that?"

"No. Catwoman. She used to work for the same pimp."

"Catwoman was a hooker?"

"Where did you think she got the whip?"

"Oh. Ew."

"If you want to meet people with normal life stories, you're in the wrong vocation. Though if you don't, I'm free at seven."

"K-. Seriously?"

"What? You're hot, I'm hot, we've got this hobby in common. There wouldn't be any of that 'making up excuses why you have to dash off' nonsense that spikes so many superhero/normie relationships…" I shrug. "And don't think I haven't noticed that you've been taking me up on my offer."

"Yeah, I'm-. Not.. really looking for a boyfriend right now?"

"And yet, you found one anyway. Aren't you lucky?"

"Tch. Narcissist, much?"

"I'm an Orange Lantern. I'm very in touch with my desires, and you're what I desire. And you are not in touch with your desires. You want to stare, but you feel weird about it even though I've told you it's fine." Still pushing the weights up and down with my legs I tense and relax the muscles of my chest in turn. "Do you want to touch me? Because that's fine too."

She jerks her head away immediately, and I roll my eyes.

"You see, that's what I'm talking about. You want, then the moment you're offered what you want-."

"And you're so sure you know what I want."

"Everything you want? No. That you want a particular thing? The human body's reaction to sexual desire is perfectly predictable." I point to my right eye with my right forefinger. "Pupil dilation is the obvious-."

"Yeah, I-. Know about pupil dilation."

"Mine are pretty… Di-lat-ed."

She just exhales, then starts ignoring me. I wonder if she's got some other hang up I don't know about? I call the ring, making sure that I have absolutely no desire to have it aid in my exercise routine. It floats up and settles on my left ring finger-.

19th August 2010
16:16 GMT -5

Warning! Deviation from baseline thought processes detected!

I frown. I don't feel-. I don't think I feel any different, but I suppose that I wouldn't. That's why I set the ring to let me know.

In what regard?

For a start, you're hitting on a girl about half your age.

She doesn't know that.

I'm comparing your behaviour to baselines, here. I can't make moral judgements. And before you took that shot, you wouldn't have done that. And you certainly wouldn't have come on to the first hot girl you saw like you're doing now. And you wouldn't have responded with 'she doesn't know that' just now.

The animals I tested demonstrated an increase in dominance. Increased confidence. Do you think that's what it is?

I don't really think. So how about an experiment?

I'm listening.

What would you say to the idea of pulling her off the machine, tearing off her clothes and raping her right now?

It would be pointless. Aside from the fact that I don't think I'd enjoy it very much, I don't have any way to conceal it. I'd have the League after me, get you taken from me and end up in prison.

Yeah, see, that's definitely not the answer you would have given. What about the moral reasons relating to an individual's right to personal integrity? What happened to the fact that you like these kids?

…

Oh. Yes, I… Why… Aren't I… Considering that?

One obvious reason.

You can't just give someone an injection and remove their capacity for moral judgements. That's nonsense.

No, but psychoses can be seen in altered brain structures. And you still can make moral judgements because you understand what I just said. You just didn't.

Yes, but I would have done it automatically. Now I…

If you can't tell me…

It feels like a distraction. Something that would stop me getting what I want. And before, I'd have said that it was a way of forcing me to instinctively take into account the long term consequences. I can clearly still reason, but… That's undeniably a change.

I can still do a reset?

I get up off the exercise machine and head out of the gym, taking my clothes with me.

Not… Yet. I'm going to try finding another recipient again, now that I've got a better idea what I'm looking for.

That isn't what you were planning on doing.

Perhaps. But I'm not exactly that person any more, am I?

 

[Mr Zoat]

4th July 2012
19:46 GMT

"Prince J'emm, thank you for seeing me on such short notice."

He gestures up at the Martian sky, the giant telekinetic pillars piercing the oddly purple-tinted air as they squeeze the atmosphere into a narrow breathable volume. Martian biotechnology based on the pillars Mother of Mercy uses to control Ater Clementia's movement, they're the reason why Martians are starting to resettle the surface of their world in earnest. Near the tops of the pillars I can see clouds, the result of Mother of Mercy deciding that Mars needed more water far more than astronomers needed Halley's Comet.

**With all that you have done for us, it would be churlish in the extreme for me to refuse you.**

**Telepathy?**

He nods, smiling.. in a way that looks very nearly natural. He's copied Mister J'onzz's humanish appearance, though most of the Martians working around us maintain their default shape.

"I find it difficult to remember that the air is now thick enough for speech. And my children will know nothing else."

"How popular is the movement to reclaim the surface?"

"Unlike humans, Martians don't have a longing for privacy. But in some cases, the ability to live a little further away from one another may be… Beneficial."

"And I'm sure that was an implication that a Martian would have understood, but in my case…"

"My… Fellow Reds have been a.. little less receptive than I had hoped to my preferred response to the information you brought me on your first meeting with me."

"I see."

"My own city is now completely-. Legally, it is completely desegregated. And my cabinet is aware of the reason why I have taken such steps without an approving consensus in the Planetary Council. I will not try to claim that everyone.. has complied with my edicts or that there has been no push back, but… Things are changing. And my city is not the only one."

"And in the other cities?"

"They are… Most of them are moderating their position. They are generally so calcified that rapid change… It would tear them apart, to the detriment of all, including their Whites."

"There's a limit to how patient I'm prepared to be, Prelate." I turn away, looking out across Mars for the particular sets of desires I'm-. Hah. "How much trouble would it cause if I gave an orange power ring to a White?"

"That depends on the political beliefs of that particular White. If they were violent, it could cause a great deal of trouble. If they were peacefully inclined, in the current climate… I do not believe that it would cause more than we are already experiencing."

I.. don't really have time to mentor someone now. But Koriand'r should have time, now that the fighting in Vega has died off. I don't think that Komand'r has the right mindset for something this delicate. No, no, she's still too inexperienced for that sort of mentoring. I don't think that Tamaraneans have the same sort of emotional difficulties that Martians can.

"Is there anyone who might decide to be more helpful if I had a chat with them?"

"Yesss-. You mean other Reds."

"Were you about to ask me to ask the Whites to just-" **[Image of a riot officer beating a protestor with a truncheon]** "-lie there and take it?"

"Frankly, yes. I have shown as many Reds as I dare all that you have shown me, but the strongest resistance is coming from Green groups. They do not understand why those they considered beneath them are now decreed to be their equals, and I cannot share that information without causing the anarchy which I do not believe will help anyone. If the White population could be encouraged to gravitate towards the more peaceful reformist groups, that would make my job a little easier."

"Any Greens I can talk to instead?"

"No. There is no real Green leadership to the anti-desegregation movement. Yet, at least. Where the caste system is decreed the leaders of the forces which enforce it are Red."

Darn.

"Okay. I'll.. think about it. The… Other reason why I'm here is that I want to hire a large number of professional telepaths."

"'Professional' in what regard? I doubt that you need experts on telepathic music."

"Aside from the fact that L.E.G.I.O.N. would like to hire telepaths for military purposes, I'm here on behalf of the people of Colu. Currently, nearly their entire species is held in a computer network which locks their minds outside of their organic brains. We need people who can interact with that network and extract them, or delete anything that isn't an organic Coluan."

"Organic Coluan?" I nod. "You know that Martians… Cannot touch the thoughts of purely synthetic species."

"What if the system they're running on is made of organic brains?"

"I.. have.. no idea. But the sort of precise, controlled telepathy you're looking for… There is little call for it. I doubt that there are more than a few hundred professionals in the field who could help, and only a small fraction of them would be willing to leave the planet. You may be better off asking M'gann M'orzz."

"M'gann can't simply leave Earth for weeks or months on end like that. And while she may have the power, she hasn't really had the opportunity to learn the precision a job like that would require."

"It will be a simple matter for me to make potentially interested parties aware of your request. As for the use of telepaths for your military-."

"I can talk to the more violently-minded Whites, but that leaves the worrying possibility that they might come back with L.E.G.I.O.N. training and form a far more effective insurgency."

"How long will you require their services?"

"Probably a few decades."

"If we haven't resolved the situation here by then, they will have every right to be vengeful."

"Are you speaking just for you there?"

"The prelates only rule Martian cities. If a Martian chooses to leave all presently existing cities, then there are remarkably few laws which apply to their conduct. Anyone who wishes to leave with you is free to do so."

"And to return?"

"I will guarantee that any who wish to do so will be able to return to Mel'dilo'rn. I cannot speak for other cities on that subject, though it is my hope that the matter will be resolved in a way they find pleasing by that time."

I nod. "Alright. Tell me who I'm going to be talking to, then post the job offer. Hopefully I'll be able to pick up at least a few interested people on my way back."

 

[Mr Zoat]

4th July 2012
21:34 GMT

The situation in Xan'Xie is tense. The locals move around the caverns quickly, with no inter-colour mixing at all. Armed Manhunters are visible at every thoroughfare, and even without mobile faces I can feel the malice coming from the nearby Whites. Their bodies are.. non-standard. They've shifted to increase their musculature, and several are wearing decorations that.. aren't quite the red circle of the Hyperclan, but are certainly reminiscent of it.

John Stewart looks around.

"Are things usually this bad?"

"This city is generally considered pretty racist, but I haven't been here before. Prince J'emm implied that things had gotten worse recently, but I can't personally confirm that."

"This place is one wrong word away from a full blown riot."

"One wrong thought."

He frowns for a second, then nods. "I guess I should thank you for calling me in."

"That's really more something I did because I can't spend the time here that I'd need to. But it-."

"My Sector, my problem. I know." He looks around again. "And this really all happened because of that mission-?"

"How good is your telepath blocking?"

"Good. Not great." He points to the back of his neck with his right hand. "But I picked this up on Ogoro. Telepath disruptor. Just in case."

"Nice to see someone taking his personal protective equipment so seriously. But if things turn nasty here, you might want-"

I tap his cuirass with the knuckle of my right index finger.

"-something a little tougher than that."

He shakes his head. "Lighter armour makes me look less intimidating. Helps social interactions. If I was coming into an actual war zone I'd agree with you, but we're trying to negotiate."

"With telepaths who aren't used to human facial expression."

"Then they'll hear what I think-."

"No. Because…" I start to point at my neck, then point at his.

He looks away awkwardly. "It's not a hundred percent effective. Are we supposed to be meeting someone-?"

A lot of Whites converge on one of the entrances. Civilian Greens stream away in all directions while the Manhunters hold their ground.

"Uh-oh. This our guy?"

I take a look at the desires of the group.

"Those are Martians who have the desires I'm looking for. Combined with the Hyperclan emblem they're narrowly not wearing, I'm pretty sure that he's in there. But they're shapeshifters and I've never met him before, so I can't swear to it."

The Whites try to enter the cavern in a mass. The Manhunters move to stop them. The Whites stop advancing, but they don't retreat an inch either. I can't hear it, but I rather imagine that the Manhunters are trying to give them orders to that effect. It's a weird silent film version of deliberate provocation chicken, and even knowing how serious it is it still seems a little ridiculous. Other than the body structure alterations there isn't even any body language to read. They're just floating there next to each other.

"John, you're up."

"You don't wanna take the lead?"

"You're the senior Sector Lantern."

"Gee. Thanks."

He flies upwards towards the pending confrontation. Not his first time defusing this sort of confrontation; he was trained by Katma Tui on Korugar when it was trying to decide how to govern itself in the post-Sinestro era, and that was anything but peaceful. I-.

"Excuse me? You're… Orange Lantern, right?"

I turn around to see a White Martian who has adopted the humanish appearance well enough for me to see that they're nervous. Or at least, mimicking the outwards appearance of humanoid nervousness.

"One of several hundred, yes."

"Yeah, but, the one who M-. Who comes from Earth?"

"Was that cut off sentence 'who Mister J'aarkn met'?"

"Um." The Martian awkwardly rubs his hands together. "Yeah?"

"I met him, certainly. And I'm aware of the memories he's been sharing, and while I'm sure that you're perfectly capable of assuming attractive shapes, that's not why I'm here."

"Ah. I hadn't-. Uh. R-? Really? Because. No no no, just forget I… Um."

"What was it you wanted?"

"Is there going to be a fight? Because I don't want to be here, but they're closing the exits."

I look around… Darn it.

"If it comes to it, I'll shield any bystanders. But we're trying to avoid having a fight break out."

"I don't just mean this cavern. When Mel'dilo'rn got rid of the Neapolitan laws I wanted to move there, but the Prelate brought in travel restrictions. We've got even less freedom now than when the changes started."

"Are there a lot of people who want to get out before things blow up?"

"Is that an option?"

"I'm here to hire some people for work off planet. I mostly need skilled telepaths or people with military experience, but if you don't mind learning then I can make use of you."

"I'd.. love to get better at telepathy. We only get basic education here. I know that's not the case in other cities…"

We have a few telepaths in L.E.G.I.O.N., and… One, in the Orange Lantern Corps. On the other hand, I could just hire Mr. King to train them up. I doubt that he'd mind taking time away from Earth.

"If you had existing skills in that area, I'd recruit you at once. As you don't, I'm afraid any offer will have to wait until-"

I feel it as John activates his ring, and look up to see him sticking a construct barrier between the belligerent parties.

"-after I've spoken to your Prelate. Excuse me."

I fly upwards, a somewhat fixed smile on my face. I know it's useless for exactly the same reason I gave John, and I'm doing it for the same reason he did. I never claimed to be perfectly rational.

"Lantern Stewart. Problem?"

The Manhunters draw their guns and point them at one of the Whites, who doesn't outwardly react.

"No. No problems. But we might wanna change of venue."

"Not a problem. We can all fly. Why not have our meeting right here?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

4th July 2012
21:39 GMT

The White Martian with the guns pointed at him looks my way.

…

"If you think I'm lowering my telepathic defences in a situation like this, you've got another thing coming. I realise that it's not your preferred way of communicating, but I would appreciate it if you could speak out loud."

The shape of that Martian's throat changes slightly.

"This.. is.. inefficient."

"Direct contact with my mind can be… Unhealthy. Non-green power rings require a rather emotional mind state, and I've knocked Manhunters out through simple mental contact before. Besides, would you want-" I glance at the four… No, now eight Manhunters who are guarding the tunnel. "-to risk them influencing me into attacking you?"

One of the Manhunters jerks his head my way, his form shifting into that of a J'onn lookalike.

"You have been invited here by the Prelate. Your person is inviolable. I would rather let this mob cut off my arms than disobey her command."

"Let us say that I accept that you would not do so deliberately. Do you know enough about unshielded human minds to avoid doing so accidentally, by inadvertently imprinting your schematic models into my thought processes?"

"It.. should not-. No." The Manhunter doesn't look around, but the rest of the squad ripple and either adopt a similar shape -and given the appearance of one of them, they've clearly been watching Mr. J'aarkn's recording- or at least add a larynx to their default shape. "Are you satisfied?"

"I can only talk with people who can talk." I turn my head towards John. "Lantern Stewart, what set this off?"

"The Manhunters don't want to let anyone other than B'enn B'lanx talk to us. Which means everyone else has to stay outside. Mister B'lanx's followers aren't happy with that."

Gun-target White Martian inclines his head slightly.

"They think I might have an accident."

"I don't care enough about what happens here to want to kill you."

"So you say. But we Whites don't get access to planetwide news messages unless we steal them. I have no idea who you are or what you've done."

"You know how Mars has a habitable surface now?"

"It does?"

"Yes. Well, breathable atmosphere and enough of a magnetic field that you don't have to worry about cosmic rays. It's not exactly liveable yet, due to being a barren wasteland, but that's a work in progress. I was going to claim credit on the grounds that it was an Orange Lantern who got things to this stage at my request, but I suppose… If you didn't know about it there's no credit to claim."

"I suppose that it's nice that you made an effort."

"I'm also why most Martian cities have relaxed or abolished restrictions on their White inhabitants. I assume that you knew about that?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Because colour-based restrictions with no basis in biological reality are horribly unfair. I have a White-."

"You have a White. Best. Friend."

"M'gann M'orzz is the only Martian I know well enough to call a friend, and she's been on Earth for over two years."

For a moment I consider creating a construct image with her likeness, but of course colour is important. Instead, I take out a hologram projector and generate an image of her default form, next to one of her monochrome mission form.

"Have her reports of earthly heroism made it this far?"

"No. We would never be told anything about a heroic White."

Well, darn. No, I suppose that they wouldn't, and Martians probably wouldn't consider heroics on Earth all that important anyway.

I tap the side of my forehead with my right forefinger.

"Alright. I'll focus on everything heroic I've seen her do. For your own safety, don't stray from my surface thoughts. And-" I look around the crowd. "-just you."

"Fine."

I feel a slight push even as I go through the mental transformations needed to remove my shields. My familiarity with M'gann and Henry means that I also feel his response to an alien mindscape: a distinct hesitation. Good. That shows good sense and is what I wanted anyway.

**[Meeting M'gann for the first time.] [The fight with Mister Twister.] [Santa Prisca.] [Red Volcano.] [J'aarkn, when she went white full time.] [The Young Offenders.]**

I skip the Burner without making it obvious that I'm skipping something. If he were more used to my mind he might spot it, but since he knows that he's getting a slideshow it doesn't appear to register.

**[The Star Conquerors.] [And a hundred snapshots of minor social interactions and heroic deeds that didn't qualify as full-fledged missions.]**

"I see."

His eyes glow faintly, and from the way the Martians closest to him are doing the same I assume that he's sharing what he saw with them.

"Do you accept that on the balance of probability I do in fact have a White friend?"

"Yes. And you have no special reason to harm me." He raises his right arm and points to the talkative Manhunter. "That one does."

"Would you accept a smaller bodyguard? The rest could stay in the next cavern and watch telepathically."

The talkative Manhunter grimaces. "They should do what they are told."

"You can go back to beating up unarmed civil rights activists once I'm gone. My understanding is that you've been told that I'm allowed to have this meeting. I'm choosing to have it with…" I count Manhunters. "Twenty White Martians rather than a hundred. Or one. Is complying with my request a problem?"

"Yes. They aren't our only security concern."

"Last year the Hyperclan tried to kill me when they tried to undo the mental reprogramming of a convicted rapist and murderer I was visiting. The fight ended with most of them retreating while one remained in Manhunter custody. I doubt that the violent fringe of the White Rights movement regards me fondly."

I pause.

"You have access to those records, don't you?"

"Yes." The eyes of another member of the squad light up, presumably the communications specialist. "We will confirm-." An eye-flicker. "I see. Very well. We accept your claim. We will permit you to discuss matters with a small group. The rest will disperse."

"The rest will remain outside."

He stares at me, and his eyes flicker for a moment.

"Very well."

"But. " I turn back to Mr. B'lanx. "No one with the Hyperclan symbol. They already tried to kill me once. I'm not keen on them trying again."

 

[Mr Zoat]

4th July 2012
21:45 GMT

"…that's the offer. We're happy to accept anyone interested, though we'll be giving better terms to those with the skills we most strongly desire. There's a L.E.G.I.O.N. flotilla in near-Earth space now where I can drop you off for basic training while still keeping you close enough to other minds to avoid catatonia." I pause a moment. "Any questions?"

"You want us to flee?"

Mr. B'lanx sounds unconvinced.

"I want you to come and receive professional military training in a place where you can buy weapons with your pay. If Prelate J'emm is successful, you'll be able to return to an egalitarian Mars where your company can be folded into the Manhunters. If he failed… You'll have professional military training and guns."

The Manhunters come to alert, the air around their hands trembling faintly with telekinetic force.

"You will leave-."

"No."

"No, he can stay." Mr. B'lanx tries to smile. I've seen worse. "I'm actually interested."

"And it's not like you actually want him here." I look through the walls surrounding us, unfocusing my eyes as I try to take in the desires of the population of the city. "You're looking at a violent uprising and you know it. The other city states think you're a bunch of colourist arseholes. A few years ago they would have coached it in terms like 'highly conservative', but now there's a cultural revolution underway. And when the uprising happens, no other city will send you help. The city's garrison is all you'll have, and it isn't enough to suppress a population who hate you this much."

"Or. You can send the loudest mouths off the planet for a few years. At worst, that will make the uprising weaker, maybe into something you can actually fight off. At best, your radical elements decide that it's not worth coming back to somewhere they're detested and get given a planet in Reach space to settle by the Controllers." I raise my eyebrows. "Doesn't that sound better?"

"It is not my place to say. But you are talking about arming rebels."

"No. As Prelate J'emm told me, once they leave this city, they stop being covered by your laws. And they stop being your prelate's responsibility. A potential invasion from another planet is the concern of the Planetary Council collectively. And-" I nod towards John. "-his, and mine."

"From your employee."

"I don't like these people. A few minutes ago most of them were wearing the emblem of a terrorist organisation that tried to kill me, several friends of mine, a group of civilians and let loose an insane murderer. That doesn't recommend people to me. I just want them to be treated as people, so that when they act up I can honestly say they were given every opportunity not to be total gits the whole time."

The Whites turn to look at each other, eyes glowing. John frowns slightly.

"This how you usually handle diplomacy?"

"No point in lying to a bunch of telepaths."

Mr. B'lanx turns back to me.

"How many Whites will you take?"

"I'd say 'as many as want to come', but there's a limit to how many we can fit on the ships. Fortunately, that limit is larger than the number of Whites in this city, so even if I get volunteers from other cities as well… It shouldn't be a problem."

"And for how long?"

"Depends on what job each individual ends up doing. The standard Unaffiliated Planet Sign-Up for L.E.G.I.O.N. has a minimum term of a little over two years service, then you've got the training on top of that. The minimum term for the Darkstars is longer, because Darkstars have traditionally been fairly fanatical and there wasn't any point in a shorter term. And if anyone just gets a civilian job on Maltus, the duration is whatever their contract says it is. The real barrier to returning is the fact that we don't have ships coming this way very often, and I'll offer a personal guarantee that after a year I'll fly back any group of at least a hundred individuals who wish to return."

"I will need to talk to my people about this."

"Fine with me. Lantern Stewart, could you coordinate with Lantern Coutara on transport arrangements?"

He nods. "Sure."

"The Prelate has not agreed to any of this."

"The Prelate only has the ability to disagree with the Whites leaving, and since they wouldn't be going to another city, it's a matter for the Planetary Council. I'm asking because I'd rather have an accord, not because I legally need one."

"Those laws were written without regard to alien contact!"

"Then your prelate should probably raise the matter at the next Council meeting and try and get them revised. But in the meantime, we all have to follow the law as it exists. Mister B'lanx? Do you have any further questions at this time?"

"Your ring. Is that one of the positions we can apply for?"

"Yes. However, the screening process is quite a lot more strict."

And after taking a quick look at you, I don't think I'll be offering you one of my discretionary rings. Sometimes, revolutionary leaders are true selfless believers in the cause. T'ronn is more like that. He doesn't expect to gain anything personally, just some opportunities that aren't available to Whites when they become available to everyone else. Mr. B'lanx is a believer too, but it isn't just about the injustice. His pride demands that he be the one who creates the change, and he's more than a little interested in exercising that power personally. He's perfectly capable of being an Orange Lantern, just… Not someone I'd take a chance on when I couldn't keep an eye on them.

"And then I could fly back myself."

"Clarissi Dox might take issue with you abandoning your duty station, and you'd be flying on your own for a very long time completely isolated from all other minds. But yes, in theory that's something which you could do."

"How long?"

"The war zone is on the other side of the galaxy. It would depend on how fast you are. Flying in normal space, I can do it in less than a day, but I'm the fastest Lantern I know of. I expect that most Lanterns would take a few weeks. In total isolation."

"I…" His eyes dim slightly. "Have no more questions."

"Then by all means, go and ask your people who is interested."

The Whites rise and head for the exit, the Manhunters still on duty moving away slightly to avoid… 'Misunderstandings'.

"Right. Now, I believe that I should meet with the Prelate. Would you be so good as to escort me to the palace?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

4th July 2012
21:59 GMT

"No."

"You may want to reconsider that."

Unlike my relatively intimate meeting in Prelate J'emm's office, Prelate P'thet's… Throne room is an expansive affair. Our Green Manhunter escort handed us over to armed Reds in the antechamber with a bizarre degree of grovelling, and as far as I can tell those Reds are part of the Prelate's all-Red bodyguard. The Red heads of the local Manhunter force stand in attendance, while a cross section of their Green subordinates kneel behind them with their hands on the floor in ritual supplication. And it's not just the Manhunters; the theme repeats itself amongst the civil servants and priests. At least, I assume that the Greens with the magic users are priests: their clothing is different enough that they might just be vergers or something.

The Prelate herself looks almost identical to every other Martian I've seen. Some ornamentation with what my rune stone says are enchanted accoutrements, but there's nothing particularly unique about the default Martian physique she's using. Whatever it does, it's not blocking my empathic vision. Unlike Mr. B'lanx she's not in this for herself, but rather to maintain a system of order that she regards as the divinely revealed correct way to live. A genuine believer in noblesse oblige, and in the natural inferiority of those she's obliged to. In the American context, she wouldn't set fire to a cross on a White Martian's lawn, but she wouldn't want them to be able to get golf club membership.

"After all, as I understand it, your office only grants you the authority to restrict your citizens from migrating to other Martian cities."

The composition of the attendants just shouts that they have a highly racially stratified society, and that the entire power structure depends on it. There's not a single White here, nor anywhere else in the building. The Greens are permanently genuflecting, and the Reds the only ones allowed to speak. The Greens are literally just here to take up room behind their hereditary overlords. And they're fine with it. As far as I can see, they consider this an honour.

"That is merely a specifically enumerated power. I also have a wide variety of powers which I may exercise in order to preserve civil order."

Fucking emergency laws. I hate those blasted things. I've heard it said that hard cases make bad law, but my personal belief is that a law should be able to handle unusual situations. If it can't, it's a bad law and should be improved, not entirely bypassed by giving supreme executive authority to someone. At least not during peace time.

"And you believe that preventing violent political radicals from leaving improves civil order?"

"Letting them go is an admission of defeat, of the acceptability of slights against the divine order. I will not sacrifice the future perfection of our civilisation to make a short term accommodation with a disruptive element."

"I… Shared a particular memory with Prelate J'emm last year. I was rather under the impression that he'd shared it in turn with his fellow prelates. Have you seen it?"

"Yes. But it is irrelevant. The 'Guardians'-" She looks… I'm guessing 'coldly', but Martian faces aren't all that expressive, at John. "-did not create order here after they left. Karmang the Good did, and this is the order which he decreed. The reasons he had for doing so are irrelevant, as is the origin of the groups for which he decreed it."

Ah. Blind faith. J'emm was willing to change things because he only kept it going due to the fact that it was tradition. Once he found out the true origin of the three colours he considered it rationally and realised that it was irrelevant. But P'thet has Word of Karmang, and is not at home to reason. Unless Karmang him or herself turns up in person-.

"I'm afraid that Martian records being telepathic has rather precluded me from learning about Karmang. Are they a god, or merely an enlightened Martian?"

"Karmang the Good was the greatest teacher and builder of our earliest history. He established our first cities and temples and taught the basics of agriculture and magic to our most distant forebears. He created our civilisation and ordained its proper order. We do not consider him to be… Something separate from Martians, but he is our most revered antecedent."

"Are you still in contact with him?"

"No. To the best of my knowledge he is long dead. Martians live longer than humans, but not forever."

"But you have access to magic. Don't you have necromancers?"

"No."

"Because I know some necromancers? I mean, if Karmang's final word is that the White Martians should submit to your rule there's really nowhere for me to go, but it seems to me that the highest authority on what Karmang wanted is Karmang himself."

"This is not a matter in which there is any confusion. All of Mars agrees that all of Karmang's disciples were Red, as were those he anointed primates and prelates. Even if I knew a way to communicate with his spirit directly, I would not trouble him over an issue like this."

Interesting. Z'üm was talking to someone called Karmang, and all of the Hyperclan members I met had Z'orr in place of their family name. They clearly had access to magic…

"And just to confirm: amongst Martians, magic is an unbroken secret amongst the Red priesthood? I understand that some cities are more liberal about such things than yours."

"Primate?"

The leader of the clerical delegation genuflects to the throne, then rises to face me.

"The energy manipulated by the arcane arts is theoretically available to anyone. But even in the most divergent temples, no Martian who is not Red has ever been taught, nor copied the style of magic taught there."

"And you have no records of either Green or White Martians becoming notable magic users outside of your tradition?"

"No. Those Whites who identify themselves as the Hyperclan are augmented by magic, but none have any skill with magic themselves. Once the Rite of Ending is performed they either die or are restored to their original form."

"So it's either a Red or an alien that's doing it."

"If… Forced to speculate, I would imagine that it was most likely a White who had developed a magic tradition independently."

"Is that..? Is that heretical? I mean, they wouldn't be using the tradition Karmang taught the Reds…"

"Yes, it's heretical. The tradition Karmang taught is the only tradition which fits within the social system which he laid out for us to live by."

"Do the other cities see it the same way?"

"If they do not, they hide it well."

I nod, and smile at the Prelate.

"Thank you both for the information. I feel obliged to inform you that I will be requesting clarification from the Planetary Council on whether you actually have the authority to do what you're doing, and given the general opinion on the subject amongst your fellow Prelates I fully expect them to say that you don't."

I bow.

"Thank you for speaking with me. I'll show myself out."

Without waiting for a formal dismissal I turn and fly away, back towards the main doors. The entire ruling elite, and not one that I could see had a contrary opinion. And not 'they had them, but were keeping quiet for reasons of self preservation.'. They've all drunken the kool aid, the White enemy within keeping them together in the face of the opposition of anyone with any sense.

I wonder if the Controllers do have a spare planet I can borrow?

 

[Mr Zoat]

20th August 2010
21:43 GMT

The old man frowns at me.

"'oo the fuck 're you supposed to be, orange Lantern?"

I land on the small patch of grass outside of his care home's dining room.

"Yes."

"Hah!" He smiles bitterly. "That shows me right up. Didn't know they came in different colours." He leans on the fence, hands dangling over the railing. "Fine, what'd'yah want?"

"Dennis Wilson. Formerly Vitaman."

The smiles fades a little, then he shrugs. "Maybe I am. What's it to you?"

"We've got a chemist in common."

"Not bleedin' likely. Everyone who worked on that's dead as a door nail."

"But they kept records. Which I acquired."

He blinks, his face relaxing in surprise. "Fuck me. Really? What the hell d'you do that for?"

"It was an augmentation formula with no adverse side effects. It seemed like a good idea."

"Well, yeah, they were tryin' t' make a bunch of remorseless psycho bastards, weren't they? So it's hardly a downside if that's exactly what they got." He huffs with amusement. "You had a fancy magic ring anyway, but you had to go out of your way to fuck yourself over."

"Is it a simple on/off thing? Does the psychosis progress?" He bows his head. "Do you have any leads on anyone with a little more technical knowledge-?"

"I haven't talked t' anyone on the boffin side of things since the War. You've got a better chance of finding any of 'em than I would. If any of 'em are still alive, which would be bleedin' surprisin'." He pulls a packet of cigarettes out of his back pocket and extracts a single cigarette. "You got a light?"

Anything untoward in that cigarette? Aside from the usual?

Looks fine to me.

"What, you don't like fags? Just like the fuckin' nurses 'ere. Not like I've got all that long anyway; the stuff doesn't keep you alive, it just lets you fake it better."

"No, I just wanted to make sure it wasn't a cyanide cigarette or something."

"My 'dyin' for king an' country' days are long behind me."

A crack of orange lightning strikes the end, which begins to smoulder.

"Ta." He raises it to his lips and inhales deeply, looking up at the sky as he does so. After a moment he exhales, returning his gaze to me. "Well?"

"Did you notice any change in your behaviour-?"

He frowns. "What?"

"Before and after. This ring can monitor my behaviour and draw attention to the anomalies, but I want to know if you learned to notice when you were acting out of character."

He sneers.

"Fuckin' cunt."

"Excuse me?"

"You're a fuckin' cunt, you fuckin' cunt, that's what you are."

I tilt my head slightly. Why would he..?

"I'll.. add 'possible Tourette' to the list of symptoms. If you don't have anything useful to say, I'll leave you to carry on dying in-" He flicks his cigarette directly at my eyes "-peace."

I let it bounce off my environmental shield.

"Are you trying to provoke me? Because it won't work. If I kill you, I can't get any more information out of you."

Warning! Deviation from baseline thought processes detected!

Yes, I spotted that one myself. An old man, whose only enhancement is something I added as an extra. He's not bulletproof, and the worst that can be said about him is that he's been involved in some 'shady' business. No murder sprees, no particularly grotesque behaviour -and he would certainly have had the opportunity for it- and he's in failing health. But I'm not even looking at his desires and it's…

The ant comparison is overused. But that's something like what I'm feeling. If I was in a room with a buzzing fly I might squash it or I might shoo it out, but I wouldn't care what the fly thought. Since he isn't actually a threat, I don't feel any need to kill him… But I don't feel particularly reassured about the fact that if he's anything to go by I don't have to worry about suddenly deciding to eat my team mates.

Of course I… Wouldn't worry…

"Nah. See, this is what I mean. You decided not to kill me. Probably don't think it's worth the aggravation. I can say what I want an' you won't care, 'cause it's a hassle. I can drop dead right now, and the only reason you'd do anything is 'cause there'd be a hassle if someone spotted you'd been 'ere."

"If there was someone else to talk to, believe me, I'd be talking to them instead."

"Fine. What else d'ja want?"

"Did you find yourself becoming more violent after taking the substance?"

"Nah. Enjoyed it more, but I was always a thug. Only real difference… Was I started planning it. Planning how to get at people, bring 'em down. So what about you?"

"It's been less than a day, and other than coming on to a colleague I haven't really done anything."

"Was it Wonder Woman?"

"No. Why do you ask?"

"Met her a couple of times, back in the war. Tried it on, but she weren't interested. Try'na live vicariously. You a poof, then?"

"I'm trying to keep the conversation professional. You don't know me, and I don't think I'd like you better if I knew more about you."

He shakes his head. "I don't know what you think you dosed yourself with, but if I was in your shoes I wouldn't be taking lip from some dirty old tosser like me."

"I'll take that as a positive sign. Do you have a particular technique for knowing when something you want to do isn't smart?"

"Yeah, it's called not being a prat. The formula doesn't make you stupid. If you're too thick to watch yerself, that's your lookout." He pulls out another cigarette, watching me carefully. "'course… If you're that worried, I bet your magic ring could sort you out."

"Probably. But I'm not worried, am I? Adverse consequences are… Just a variable I have to account for." I shrug. "But if you don't have anything helpful to say, is there anyone else I can talk to? Anyone else who's been dosed?"

"Yeah. My little Sal. Sally Smart. Works in porn now. Got a few of her early flicks if you wanna take a butchers. She's a petty bitch, but I don't think she's gone totally off the rails neither."

"I'll pass. But thank you. You've been marginally helpful."

"Fuck off."

I head upwards, considering the issue. So I can only consider practical issues. Anything else I'll have to refer to the ring's best guess about my pre-modification state. That's not good, obviously. I've lost a capacity. I should be able to change myself back, see how I feel about things and dose myself again if I think it's worth it.

Except that I'm not the man I was yesterday.

"Ring, just curious. Are my constructs stronger now?"

"Yes. Without the distraction of moral concerns, they're a little stronger. Old you would have worried a little about hitting someone too hard, though."

Just have to be a little careful. And… Supervillain serial killers exist here, and while the prison system isn't quite as revolving door as the versions in the comics, there are still repeated incidents from the same offenders. Maybe a little less reticence on my part will be a good thing?

 

[Mr Zoat]

5th July 2012
10:23 GMT -6

Henry nods as another lawyer joins the huddle of interested parties.

"Phillip."

The lawyer nods back.

"Henry."

"The Doctor's.. been filling me in on Missus Salinas' condition. I don't think I'll have any trouble getting a reading." He smiles like a stage salesman. "And since we've all been here before, I doubt that anyone has any questions… Phillip?"

"Yeah, I kinda do. My client's been on at me to try and get another telepath, due to your relationship with the-" He gestures to the other lawyer. "-opposition."

Henry shrugs.

"My relationship isn't really relevant. You're splitting the fee. And if you want to hire another telepath then you can go right ahead; I'm always happy to meet people I can trade information with."

"There aren't any others in the state."

"There are a handful of telepaths who can do this sort of work in the country. And the only two I'd actually give a reference for are both Martians."

'Phillip' looks at me. "What about him?"

Henry shakes his head. "Orange Lantern is an unusually precise empath. He could tell you what early memories made her the woman she is, but he can't tell you what she saw right before she received her injuries."

I nod. "Even if I could see something, it would be so heavily connected with related emotional responses that I couldn't be sure about whether what I saw was actually what happened."

Phillip shrugs. "And her injuries?"

"Not the first time I've tried reading someone in a coma. If I can't get a clear reading then I can't get a clear reading. You wanna check, you can. I'm not stopping anyone, and nothing I'm doing will make it harder."

"And, ah…" Phillip looks me over. "What exactly are you doing here?"

"I wanted to speak to Henry about a long term contract, and obviously he had to discharge his prior obligation first. And of course if I do see something useful, I'll report it."

"Do you need to be in the room?"

"Not really. I'm happy to wait outside, if you.. don't want me in there."

He shrugs. "It's a small room. Two lawyers, a doctor, a nurse and Henry…"

I nod. "Understood."

Henry looks around the group. "Alright, shall we?"

The group heads down the corridor, Henry bringing up the rear. I fall in next to him.

"What's this about?"

He shrugs. "Well, I won't know what it's actually about until I get a look at Missus Salinas' memories. The legal action was pretty low key. Ah… A combination noise and boundary complaint. Right up until Missus Salinas was severely beaten and wound up here."

"So why aren't you here on the behalf of the police?"

"What, you thought the law relating to telepathic evidence was more helpful than the law relating to magic evidence? Come on, Paul."

"But even hearsay they can use to direct an investigation."

"And once they've spend a day or two pretending not to, they probably will. But at the moment I've been called in in relation to the adjacent civil suit. You do a lot of civil work?"

"Not since the eyes and cake thing. Though I did get called in as a witness after someone sued over an injury I healed and the judge wanted me to confirm the extent of the injury."

"Um." He leans in a little. "I don't suppose you can do something like that here, can you?"

"For a woman I've never met? The best I can do is give them the number for Doctor Sivana's purple healing ray trial."

"That thing? I remember Lyta using one a couple of times. Does it even work on traumatic brain injuries?"

"Why did you think it was called a 'trial'?"

He smiles ruefully.

"Fair point. So tell me more about this Mars thing."

"Martians have a three tier caste system based on skin colour. Last year I provided fairly overwhelming evidence that the colour was the result of Guardian biological engineering rather than some sort of celestial diktat, but unfortunately racism isn't about rationality. At least one city is devoted to a frankly off-putting degree to the status quo, and while I didn't get a chance to meet everyone, I got the very clear impression from the government that the top and middle castes are happy with the way things are."

"And how exactly am I going to help with that?"

"You're going to train the uneducated bottom caste members I help leave. You're already familiar with Martian thought processes-"

We enter the corridor with Missus Salinas' room.

"-due to training M'gann, though these recruits won't be as powerful."

"I've never taught a whole class before. How many people are we talking about?"

"I'm hoping to get a few moderate top caste Martians as well, and they can do some of the training. But we're talking hundreds."

"Hundreds?"

"Hundreds who've been using telepathy for their entire lives and are used to working in a low level telepathic communion at all times. Do a demonstration and they'll all see it from the perspective of both participants."

"How much am I getting paid for this?"

"How much do you want to get paid for this? I was going to index link it to a military academy instructor, with a percentage to take into account the rarity of your skill set. Final negotiations would be up to Supreme Commander Dox."

"And I'd be living..?"

"The L.E.G.I.O.N. ships have teleporters, so while the Martians are based here you can live wherever you're living now. Once we head back to Maltus… It would be most convenient if you could move there."

"Moving to an alien world." He smiles. "If I was in my thirties I'd jump at the chance."

"And now?"

"I don't know. You know… Infinity Inc. never really hit it big. No World War, we weren't interested in fighting the Cold War… Never got the kind of press coverage teams get these days. Ever since we met up the first time I've had a hankering to get back into it." He pats his stomach, which is appreciably flatter than it was when we first met. "My dietician approves, but the fact is I'm not as young as I used to be. Moving off-world?"

I nod.

"That, I'll have to think about."

 

[Mr Zoat]

21st August 2010
10:12 GMT -7

"It's Julio, right?"

The drug trafficker and protection racketeer holds a revolver to the head of a… I'm going to say 'prostitute', but honestly she might just be the girlfriend of one of the gang members.

"GO FUCK YOUR MOTHER!"

"Ah, I'm sorry. I did French and German. The jay is supposed to be pronounced 'you', isn't it. In Spanish. Which would make you: You-lio. You-lio."

"Yeah, that's how you fucking pronounce it. Ow, my fucking back."

I ignore the man on the floor.

"Right? I don't know how often you've been in this situation, but this is a hostage negotiating technique, for establishing a rapport with the hostage taker. To enable us to understand that the other isn't some malevolent force of nature, but a person we can each talk to."

Of course, since I'm a sociopath with a power ring, 'malevolent force of nature' isn't a terrible description. But I keep up the reassuring smile anyway as I send an orange thread into the under floor crawlspace and towards You-lio.

But I am learning. He and several of his friends have insulted my mother, sister, grandmother-. None of them being clear whether they were talking about my father's mother or my mother's mother, though given how Spanish handles gender that might be a translation issue. They've tried insulting me more directly, and threatening both my life and my physical integrity. Hasn't bothered me. People insulting me isn't an issue. Which is tremendously reassuring, because if that formula had made me that aggressive there's no way I could hide-.

I'd have to reset.. myself.

"STAY! THE FUCK!"

Oh, right, the hostage.

The thread punches up through the floor and piths him, causing his body to lock up.

"BAck?"

His eyes still move and his head can still turn a little, but the rest of his body is under my control. I use a hand construct to put the safety on the gun, then calmly walk forward to pluck it from his unresisting hand. His hostage pulls away the moment she realises that he's helpless, making it two steps before tripping and collapsing onto the sofa. She scrabbles around, perhaps trying to keep us both in her field of vision.

Alright, I think I can call this a success. Deaths? Zero. Response to insults and threats, none.

Now, conventional morality would say that the correct thing to do would be to hand the apprehendees over to the local police, along with any evidence. Do I want to do that?

…

No. As expected, I have no emotional desire to comply with external expectations. Excellent! Progress.

Not sure I'd call that 'progress', sport.

'Progress' in the sense that I'm able to accurately predict the outcome of a test based on prior observations.

So the goal state is to be able to model yourself?

A goal state suggests that I'm trying to change. At the moment I'm just-.

The hostage jumps off the sofa and charges me, wrapping her arms-. Hugging me.

"Thankyouthankyouthankyou."

"That's quite alright."

Now, if we evaluate this in utilitarian terms, well, my initial thought is to say that the world is better off without these thugs. Even if concealing things makes life a little hard for me, the expense of a trial, imprisonment, the chance of reoffending as well as the general permissive attitude towards crime this part of Mexican society has developed suggests that just giving all of them an embolism would represent a tremendous benefit to society.

But if we look at it from a rule utilitarian viewpoint, I've-.

Still got.. snot on my armour.

"Ma'am? Would you like me to phone someone for you?"

"N-no." She steps away, then approaches Julio and pulls a mobile phone from his pocket. "I can-. I can just use this."

I nod. Now, I was never great at interpersonal interaction, and it's quite likely that I'm missing something here. On the other hand, Batman hasn't said anything about ever doing follow up visits on the victims, so I'm just going to assume that once she's out of sight it's alright for me to just forget about her.

Ah… Yeah, I'm… Pretty sure that in utilitarian terms it's fine not to spend time on a single individual that could be better spent helping a larger number of people more seriously in peril.

That is true.

And I'm not hitting on her, despite her dishabille and emotional vulnerability.

You know you don't get points for that, right?

I'm just making the point-

I generate immobilisation stretcher constructs and arrange the gangsters in neat rows.

-that I'm not anything like as dangerous to those around me as we both were worried that I might be.

I'm not really capable of worry, exactly. So why don't we just-. Ah. I'm not sure that she's allowed to do that.

What is-?

"Ma'am?" The young woman looks up from the gangster's wallet. "While I understand the memetic drive to loot the bodies, I'm afraid that's evidence in a criminal case. If you need money for a taxi I'm perfectly happy to give it to you."

She rolls her eyes but shoves it back into his pocket. I note that she's kept his phone, but… Whatever.

Alright, rule utilitarianism. People benefit from seeing justice done. The public legal processing of these men will improve people's faith in the justice system and discourage those who would like to bypass it. Particularly if I follow up and detain their competitors. Some of the needs they serve will still remain, but it's not as if small business owners like paying not to have their premises ransacked. The disadvantage of this is that they might get out or.. bribe someone to have the charges dropped. In which case killing them would be the superior choice, because if the system really is that dysfunctional then there's no reason to work within it until it's fixed.

But I don't have any firm evidence of that, so it's time to contact the police. Probably the Mexican Federal Police, as they're less likely to be on the payroll of local gangsters.

So, in conclusion, I can fight safely like this, I'm not a threat to bystanders and I can still do work useful to the greater good. Alright, what would I have done differently pre-dosing?

You'd probably have run this past Batman first.

Increased confidence. We knew that was a symptom.

Yes, but it's a symptom because you don't care what he thinks, not because you're more confident in your abilities.

Our agreement is that I'd obey his orders, not that I'd be his slave. We've never said that I wouldn't take independent action. But, if you're worried about me not worrying, I'll phone him now.

That doesn't make me worry less.

 

[Mr Zoat]

5th July 2012
19:54 GMT

"…relieved by how well you took it."

Commodore Amalak takes a sip of… Something expensive, no doubt.

"Though I personally thought that including you in the discussion would have made far more sense."

"Oh?"

"Your near-extermination of the Citadelians rather gave me the impression that you weren't shy about killing. I generally find that it's best that interested parties remain in the loop."

I'm curious about whether he's telling the truth or not, but not curious enough to want to brute force the ward he's wearing. I don't recognise the design, but to the best of my knowledge there's only one thaumically active world around here. And I only know of one magic user from there with whom he might be in contact. With the shield around Euphorix still very definitely up there's no way for Kalista to go home, so with the targets of the Omega Men's crusade gone I've really got no idea what she's doing with herself.

"On that score I very definitely agree. Did any of the survivors decide to stay working for you?"

"Regretting your decision?"

I shake my head. "Even if I was, I wouldn't just reverse it. People have to know that when you give your word, that's how things are going to be. How else can civilisation function?"

"Implanted explosives would work. Telepathic compulsion-."

"The second one doesn't."

"Oh?"

"My homeworld is home to dozens of native species, my own merely being the dominant one. But the next world out from our sun has a native sentient species as well."

"What a remarkably fecund system you inhabit."

I nod. "It is, rather. But the point is: a very long time ago that world was inhabited by… Can you imagine a species entirely composed of X'Hal clones?"

"Not without the aid of psychoactive substances. And I don't trade in those these days."

"Well, like that. They were so dangerous that the Guardians of the Universe stepped in and altered them. Changed them into something much less hostile and implanted certain directives designed to prevent them relapsing. And while as far as I know none have ever fully relapsed, there are plenty of very obvious problems that their civilisation has experienced as a result of the implanted commands."

"And the explosives?"

"I've never seen it tried. I suspect that the population would either be paralysed by fear or become so blasé about it that it stopped having the desired effect."

"I'm sure that your neighbours appreciate your belief that a man's word is his bond."

"You'd never know it to talk to them. Is Miss Gozzi-?"

"You know, I think I'm actually going to be offended. What makes her more interesting company than me?"

"Your species has already been reduced to below-sustainable levels of genetic variation, and I don't know where to find further genetic records. The Coluans are still a going concern. Narrowly. I can help their people in a way I can't help yours."

"Not… Easy to hear, but probably true. You never told me the outcome of your last visit."

I shake my head. "I never went to Colu itself. Starlag no longer exists, and its prisoners have been transferred to other locations. Vril Dox-. Vril Dox the Second-."

"I did assume."

"Accepted the twin positions of L.E.G.I.O.N. Supreme Commander and Orange Lantern Clarissi. But while I was there, I encountered a Green Lantern strike force going after the Computer Tyrants of Colu. I found out recently that they were successful in seizing the planet, but not before the residents were locked into a radiotelepathic network. The Green Lanterns haven't been able to crack it."

Amalak frowns distantly. "How.. many.. Coluans are held in that fashion?"

"It's a densely populated post-industrial planet. I think the total population is about sixty billion."

"And how many are.. at liberty?"

"I know of two."

He bows his head, the hand holding his glass going slightly limp.

"You will have.. whatever help I can give. What do you need Vran for?"

"As I said, my homeworld's neighbours are telepathic. I'm hopeful that they can pull the Computer Tyrants' thoughts apart while they're operating in an organic system. But they've never been exposed to Coluan thought processes before. Dox has just started a war, and while I doubt he'll object to a group of telepaths studying him, he's not exactly neurotypical."

That's… A lie. Dox grimaced when I asked, and I'm not sure how long he'd put up with it for.

"And then there's the issue of distance. He can't leave our command station to spend time having people looking at him, and transporting them would be a rather awkward prospect."

"Too far?"

"They suffer psychologically if there aren't enough other minds around. They usually spend all of their time in low-level psychic communion with one another, and struggle to cope without it."

"You want to take Vran back to your homeworld? Or its neighbour?"

"Actually, I'd rather bring them here. They need to get an idea of how she thinks when she's actually dealing with problems, not when she's stuck in an unfamiliar environment with little to do."

"Which would involve my most trusted subordinate opening her mind to a group of mental manipulation specialists for days on end."

"As I said, they're used to being in constant telepathic contact with one another. They don't have native faster than light travel, they don't have any contact with this part of the galaxy. They won't care about your commercial secrets, and..." I look away for a moment. "The memoirs of a member of their species who spent several decades as a pornographic performer on my world have recently been placed in wide circulation on their planet. I doubt that her personal life -no matter how interesting- could possibly arouse their interest."

"That-."

"Did I mention that they're also shapeshifters? Nearly fully protean?"

"As-. I.. don't think that will be an issue." He puts down his glass and stands, motioning for me to follow. "Much as I'd like to I don't think I can really order Vran to cooperate with you, but I'll certainly try to persuade her on your behalf. When do you want to begin?"

"As soon as possible."

 

[Mr Zoat]

5th July 2012
21:08 GMT

Vran Gozzi was not interested in visiting home.

"How are you managing?"

Fortunately, I'm a very persuasive man. With spare power rings.

She's not looking at me, eyes glowing faintly orange as her new ring feeds her data on the state of the silent metropolis below and around us. A lot of Colu was automated, though unlike human automation there wasn't ever really any use of computer systems as fast decision makers. Coluans are all sufficiently intellectually capable that holding data tables in their heads and rapidly responding to inputs without hesitation was easier than designing a computer system that could do it fast enough to avoid frustrating the user. However, the simple worker bots who kept the streets and airways clean and performed basic maintenance tasks were shut down by the Green Lanterns along with the combat robots, lest the Computer Tyrants use them to wage guerrilla warfare against the small occupation force.

"Acceptably."

"When were you last here?"

"I've never been here before."

"You've never been to Colu?"

She frowns, the orange in her eyes dimming for a moment as she finally looks at me.

"Your species are pre-FTL. Most advanced species have substantial numbers away from their homeworld at any given time."

"Yes, but I was under the impression that Colu had been isolationist for a long time."

"Isolationist by custom is not the same as isolationist by rule. We're not Kryptonian. The only part of Colu where I spent any time is on the far side of the planet."

"Did your parents spot what Vril Dox the First was up to?"

"No. They simply disagreed with the prevailing cultural imperatives. The Green Lanterns-"

Alert! Will detected!

"-are approaching."

"Good show."

Honour Guard Lanterns Lee and Aldo approach at speed, construct armour in place and weapon construct at the ready. Lantern Aldo is wearing heavy armour, through from what I can tell several of his limbs have been replaced with cybernetics so that could actually be his skin. Lee is wearing far lighter armour, though his constructs look decidedly more solid than most, to the point where I can't actually see through them.

"Gentlemen."

"Illustres. Gardner told me you got a plan. Let's hear it."

"We can't outthink the entire Coluan species while they're networked together. Not unless… I don't know, the Guardians want to handle it personally. But we might be able to pick apart the network telepathically as the Computer Tyrants have no facility for telepathy."

"You got an army of telepaths you're keeping quiet about?"

"I'm in the process of hiring one now. Martians are telepathic, and Mars is going through a radical cultural shift. Plenty of people will be happy to get away from home for a little while."

Lantern Lee nods, once. "That sounds like it could work. You got sixty billion of them?"

"There aren't even one billion Martians in existence. I'm assuming that I might get a thousand."

"That's not going to be enough. The Computer Tyrants got the locals in pods of a couple thousand at… Well, six million sites spread out across the planet. Six million telepaths who were real good might work. I don't see a thousand doing much."

"You've done something like this before?"

He nods. "Wasn't an AI doing it, but yeah. Had a telepathic Green Lantern with us." A small shrug. "Got their brain burned out trying to shift the load."

"Are the Coluans going anywhere?"

"You want to take things slow?"

"It seems advisable."

"Huh. Got to say, I was kind of hoping I'd get to see the big orange snake at work."

"You're not really my type."

His expression hardens slightly. "Don't. I get enough of that from Gardner. Are you definitively telling me you couldn't break up this network by yourself?"

"No. But I don't think I should push my luck like that unless we're close to a deadline. Do we have a deadline?"

"No one wants the Computer Tyrants back in charge. The Corps' enemies are just happy to have so many Honour Guard Lanterns tied down in one place. Unless Vril Dox comes back, we should have as long as we need. And if he comes back, it saves me a whole lot of time finding my next target."

"So taking it slow is wisest."

Lantern Lee nods.

If I don't get enough Martians, the other obvious place to go is the genomorphs. I'm not sure how Dubbilex would feel about an expansion of g-gnome production on that sort of scale. Would the g-lusca be able to outthink the Computer Tyrants? I imagine it would be a matter of quantity again.

"I would like to see them."

Lantern Gozzi focuses on Lantern Lee, who nods again.

"That won't be a problem. We've left the Computer Tyrants some sensors because I was worried about the isolation driving the population insane, but they don't have any way to affect the external world. They'll know you're there, but they won't be able to do anything about it."

"Can I leave you to it? I've got an appointment with the Martian government."

They both nod, and I raise my fingers to my forehead

and

reappear in front of the Martian parliament building. Much like the Palace of Westminster, it's a relatively recent building designed to look like something much older. Like one of the temples I've flown past a few times, actually. Which makes sense: the first temples were originally centres of learning and governance. There's a long association of the two in Martian culture.

There are a large number of Martians of various morphologies around me, on the ground and in the air. Colours are… I think they're mixed, but they're shapeshifters and unlike them I can't just read their minds to find out what colour they 'really' are.

Huh.

I wonder if there's a way to simply undo the Guardian programming? Or… Change an individual's programming from, say, Red to White. I wouldn't try that as a solution, because Martian social problems are social problems and not something the Guardians compelled them to have. But it could provide an interesting perspective.

J'emm's apprentice S'yrra is waiting for me just inside the entrance, and the Manhunters on duty -a mixture of Greens and Reds- don't attempt to bar my entrance as I fly up to her.

"Let's get started."

 

[Mr Zoat]

5th July 2012
21:41 GMT

"'…interest from a number of parties.'"

S'yrra is telling me as accurately as she can what the apparently silent J'emm is broadcasting telepathically to the rest of the Council. I've still got my shields up, and unless they specifically ask I'm not going to lower them. It's best if I maintain a single story regarding the safeness of touching my mind.

"'We have long been limited to Mars despite our technology making it perfectly possible to leave our world. Even at its most restrictive, this is an opportunity for Martians to hear the thoughts of those whom we would never have been able to meet without this...'"

J'emm is standing in… Martians don't have political parties or heads of state in the way that Britain or America do, so the system for determining who speaks is a little different. The parties who wish to present particular viewpoints pick a spokesmartian from amongst themselves, and they get to take a central position where everyone can question them. And because the telepathy is a two-way street, each party knows how and why each other party feels the way they do.

That may well go some way to explaining why P'thet isn't giving a speech for anyone. There was a bit in… Feet of Clay..? Or was it Fifth Elephant? Where one character observed that people like seeing virtue in others, as long as it doesn't cost them anything. And here, her 'traditional virtues' could well cost them a great deal. I don't expect that more than a radical fringe here are eager to give up their inherited authority, but P'thet's particular brand of fanaticism would just alienate people.

I'm a witness, along with the current Manhunter Marshall and… A couple of Whites I haven't met. One has a Manhunter escort and the other doesn't. Not sure who they are and I don't really need to know. Whoever they are, the Council will make a decision before too long and I'll just go from there.

J'emm steps back slightly, and another Red I haven't met before steps forward.

"'The principal issue for debate is not the role of any group within our society. It is not the extent of our involvement with aliens. And it is not the extent to which members of our species wish to leave Mars. The principal issue for debate is the relationship between the Prelates of individual cities and the Planetary Council itself. The issue is whether we are a government or a deliberative body to coordinate the cities. The legal question which Prelate J'emm brings before us is one which would not traditionally be one for us to debate and yet in the present circumstances we find that we must.'"

"'We are telepaths. Since Karmang established our civilisation there have been only a handful of our people who could truly be considered isolated from one another. And from the information Orange Lantern has shared with us it seems likely that we were not isolated from one another even before that. But distance…'"

I tune out the rest of -coin flip- his opening remarks and lean closer to S'yrra.

"In summary?"

"M'ronn is a proponent of city rights. He supported the redevelopment of the surface being organised through the Council because it was a worldwide endeavour, but he does not feel that laws affecting a single city should be determined here."

"So what does that say about individuals who want to leave a city and not go to another?"

"He has not directly addressed-. Ah."

"Ah?"

"He believes that it should be the exclusive purview of the city's leadership."

"Which would in effect mean that we lose."

"Not necessarily. Pressure could be brought to bear. But it would be a setback."

"Asking for a friend. What would the logical conclusion of his belief structure mean for declarations of war?"

S'yrra blinks. Ah, no, her telepathy momentarily shut down. Martians don't naturally have eyelids.

"Logically? If the justification for war was a condition which only… Only applied to a single city, it would be an affair for that city."

"Interesting thing, politics. Will P'thet be voting his way, or will someone be arguing for the Council to adopt the Neapolitan position?"

"A minimal group size is required for a Speaker to be appointed. Prelate P'thet's particular interpretation of our traditions does not meet the requirement."

"And so J'emm comes off as a statist. And the other… Individual?"

"She openly wishes for the Planetary Council to take authority for dealing with matters external to Mars, and to highly restrict the circumstances in which an individual can leave in much the same way individual Prelates can restrict travel to their citizens now."

Huh. So I actually need that last Speaker to lose. Oh, okay, not need, but that would result in the least work on my part to bring about my preferred outcome.

"Has this sort of debate been going on for a while?"

"Since J'onn J'onzz returned for the first time. Before that it was occasionally discussed, but there was no urgency to it. Even afterwards, there was little contact with Earth. The fact that your world is inhabited wasn't news to us, and no one on Earth wanted to visit. There was nothing that was worth trading. And then you visited us, and it became a good deal more urgent."

"What's Prelate J'emm's position on that?"

"That discussing wider political issues distracts us away from the topic at hand."

"Yeah, but it does sound like something that would make resolving all of the other issues a lot more simple."

"It would delay you."

"As much as I might regard myself as the most important person in the universe, intellectual honesty requires that I acknowledge that other people erroneously believe that of themselves as well."

"… Yes."

"It's really no effort for me to check back in a month-."

The third speaker steps back from their speaking position. There's a brief pause, then the Martian who appears to be overseeing the proceedings gestures to-. The Marshall, who strides into the centre of the room.

"And him?"

"The Marshall distrusts all external influences. And since he's aware of what the Guardians did to our ancestors, he feels that his distrust was always well founded."

"Oh? How does he feel about me?"

"He hasn't said anything yet."

"Right, but he's the highest ranking Manhunter officer and you're Prelate J'emm's aide. I assumed that you'd keep up to date."

"I have. I just don't know what he thinks about you. You aren't the centre of the universe."

"That's what you think."

 

[Mr Zoat]

5th July 2012
21:47 GMT

"'Councillors. I am at your service.'"

"Is it odd that the Marshall is Green rather than Red?"

"Not at all. General patrol duties are.. considered appropriate for Green Martians."

"Right, but he's in a command rank. Xan'Xie had Red Manhunters."

"No, they had Red Honour Guards. Mel'dilo'rn allows Reds to join our Manhunters, but it is more usual for separate units of Reds to protect certain high-value sites. Our society does not bar non-Reds from all positions of authority. Only a few cities take it that far. And now I'm behind. Ah, he's concerned about security threats if we are literally incapable of securing our territory… '…individuals capable of faster than light travel are able to go where they please without prior notification or detection. Despite having been far more sophisticated for most of our history and our physical advantages in nearly every respect, nearly the entirety of in-system defence is left to the humans. Even-.'"

"What's that got to do with Whites?"

"He was asked about Mars security in a general sense. Ah, 'removing existing barriers based on colour would allow for a dramatic expansion of our extra-atmospheric capacity and ameliorate the psychological difficulties which we are known to encounter. Since this would put the population outside the traditional bounds of any city, a change in governance structure would be helpful in preserving clear accountability of the military to the civilian government.'"

"How genuine does he sound?"

"He was only recently told about the actions of the Guardians. It has left him with a strong desire to lash out against anything outside of our society. He seeks to control his own desires through regulation and orders, which is a desirable trait."

I nod as the Marshall returns to the waiting area.

"It is now your turn."

"Are you going to be translating for me?"

"No, they will just speak to you."

"Rightoh." I fly to the spot formerly occupied by the Marshall. "Councillors, I am at your service."

The Red leading the opening questions shifts to a more humanoid shape, though they keep the upper part of their head as-was.

"Please state your name and point of interest."

"I am the Illustres of the Orange Lantern Corps. My interests are twofold. Firstly, I am an off-world party who wishes to employ a significant number of Martians from a city which does not wish to allow me to do so. Ideally, I'd like this Council to rule that they don't have that authority and.. not grant it to them. Secondly, having uncovered the origin of Martian Neapolitanism and having determined that there's no rational underlying biological basis for the common colour-prejudgements, I have a strong distaste for the ongoing role they play in Martian public life."

"'Strong distaste'?"

"I've had contact with species where different subdivisions of that species have widely different physical traits. There, assigning different rights and responsibilities to each group is entirely rational. However, in the Martian case the only effect that I've been able to isolate is that Reds are slightly more psychologically resilient, and even that can be overcome with training. As such, I have concluded that the basis of Neapolitanism is biased prejudgement, and as such it is immoral."

"Your distaste comes from your moral convictions?"

I shrug. "There are many injustices in the universe. If our planets weren't neighbours and it didn't directly affect a friend of mine, it probably wouldn't bother me as much. Though I've.. sometimes considered that morals are a built-in way of forcing us to consider the long term collective good rather than just the short term personal advantage. The policy of continuing to oppress Whites -as some cities are doing- harms them and doesn't help anyone."

"How well do you understand Martian society?"

"Not all that well. Usually, I'd just have my ring download a database, but it isn't compatible with Martian telepathic data storage devices. And M'gann's rather gone native, so… Only ever really explained it in the broadest terms. The first time I even heard Karmang's name was from a member of the Hyperclan, and I still don't truly understand how your reverence for him has shaped your civilisation. Prelate P'thet mentioned that she considered it appropriate that Reds occupy all positions of authority because all of his acolytes were Red."

I shrug.

"But even one as.. devout as she could not point to a commandment from Karmang that non-Reds be excluded, or any record of his justification for choosing Red acolytes. Without the ability to question Karmang personally, I cannot accept the status quo as correct, even within a Martian framework. And there is still no canonical justification for distinguishing between Greens and Whites."

"And outside of that framework?"

"Karmang's just some dead guy, and I don't really care what he said or did."

The fact that Martians aren't big on facial expressions probably explains why me saying 'Jesus is just some dead guy' to the College of Cardinals doesn't get more of a response. Or maybe not. The very fact that J'emm was as moderate as he was when we first met might indicate that this shift has been a while coming. That's the problem with being an outsider in a situation like this: with the best will in the world you just can't tell why what's happening is happening.

"Thank you, Illustres. You will be recalled presently."

I nod, and drift back to my position out of the limelight as one of the Whites moves forwards.

"Well?"

S'yrra shifts her head into a far closer likeness of the human head. Eyebrows, short hair, eyes with discrete irises and a nose. Once her skin has settled on a form she takes a moment to test its range of movement with the reshaped muscles, take a deep breath in and then lets it out.

"You communicated your point clearly and effectively."

"Not going to say anything about the 'some dead guy' line?"

"We don't expect aliens to share our reverence."

"On that note, I asked P'thet about necromancy."

"Necromancy?"

"Communicating with the dead. If Karmang ended up in some sort of afterlife then it should be possible to reach him. If he reincarnated then we're out of luck."

"Reach..? Speak with… Karmang?"

"Apparently, Mars doesn't have a necromantic tradition. Which seems odd to me, because simple necromancy is among the oldest recorded forms of human magic."

"That-. I have not studied magic enough to know if that is possible for us."

"I can get a necromancer. In Atlantis it's not a heavily restricted field."

"You propose-? I will need to speak with Prelate J'emm about this."

 

[Mr Zoat]

6th July 2012
04:21 GMT +3

I watch through the one way glass as one of the latest batch of EDF applicants is interviewed. They're going over his employment history at the moment, the interviewee looking fairly cheerful as he explains his design portfolio to the nodding interviewer.

Lex is sitting next to me, scrolling through the files on the rest. I turn my head his way, raising my eyebrows.

"Has this been a big problem?"

"That depends on your definition of 'big'. The fact is that people are often rather attached to the country of their birth. Even someone with no history with their nation's intelligence service is a risk. And, naturally, I can't tell you what percentage of security risks are getting though our screening, because..."

"Yes."

That's another reason why we're focusing our development efforts on Africa, of course. If your country was a corrupt shit hole before my allies 'arranged things', you're not going to feel all that emotionally attached to the institutions of state. If your country is only held together by external pressure, are you going to spare it a second thought when you get a better offer?

As the developed world's immigration statistics tell you, the answer's a resounding no. Which makes the place perfect for us. Company towns as far as the eye can see. Incorruptible genomorph-supported policing. Good roads. Reliable water supplies. Schools, admittedly focused on supplying the EDF's need but the EDF needs everything. There's a government around somewhere, but we're making a MegaCorp here. I doubt… Ah, what's this place-? Ogaden, that's it. I doubt Ogaden as a notion attracts a great deal of loyalty.

So in twenty years we'll have a huge number of well educated, well trained 'post-nationalist' employees, but for now we're mostly looking for people who don't care all that much about their home country but either care about our mission or are prepared to learn to care about the EDF.

And don't work for their home country's intelligence agency like this git.

"Want me to have a word with the Chinese?"

"No, I think it's best if you don't mention it. Obviously they know that I'm working with you, but I doubt they'll comment on it unless you force the issue. It's better to keep the good will." His eyes flick my way as he smiles. "It's not as if anything you say will make them stop."

I nod, and return my eyes to the interview being conducted with their latest effort. Lex has happily been accepting offers of seconded military personnel from everyone who offers them, but their political masters have swiftly realised that we're not giving them access to design schematics, let alone the more sensitive parts of the EDF's technology catalogue. So they're getting thorough demonstrations on how to use Dr. Metcalf's equipment but without any real idea how to replicate it.

So many things we're not able to patent for fear that someone will do something stupid with the knowledge. Or worse, clever.

"It's starting to get a little difficult to recruit people who aren't from Africa."

I frown, turning to face him.

"Surely there are enough idealists for what you need?"

"There's a very narrow Venn Diagram overlap between people idealistic enough to rise above their patriotism, strong willed enough to resist pressure from their home nations and skilled enough to actually be useful. And we have to make sure that they stay that way."

"Do you want to accelerate the colonisation schedule?"

That would be… Difficult. Life-bearing worlds tend to bear life. Most of the immediately-habitable planets in this Sector already have people on them. Quite a few of the marginal ones as well. We have the technology to build habitats, but what's the point? There isn't much they can do that can't be done far more easily on a planet. The worlds we've tentatively identified as possible expansion targets aren't all that appealing places to live and won't be at any point in the near future. There are a few nicer worlds in the region that no one's using yet, but they're far further away which… Causes its own problems.

"I don't see that we can. Unless one of our colleagues has a way to rapidly terraform an entire planet."

"I don't know of anyone with that capacity. If I could get hold of Swamp Thing and… Somehow talked him into it, he could accelerate the growth of local plant life forms. But terraforming requires that the entire ecosystem develop together."

"I don't suppose he has an equivalent for microbes and insects, does he?"

"Not one I've met. Distant colonisation is far more feasible. We'd have to make a bigger effort to make friends with the neighbours. Probably a good idea to come up with a casus amicus in advance. Want me to take a look?"

"No. I'll take a flotilla and make a good will tour."

"That's.. not really a thing, on other planets. Turning up with warships doesn't exactly shout 'friends'."

"Then I'll have to establish another tradition. Mister Mere, do you have enough?"

The g-goblin nods slowly. I've noticed that the LexCorp g-goblin isn't anything like as expressive as the others. Even the older ones. Not sure why that is; Lex has been making an effort to be more genuinely personable lately, particularly when compared to the way 'old' Lex used to treat aliens. To say nothing of telepaths. Old Lex would have rather given himself root canal chirurgery without anaesthetic than rely on a telepath like this.

"Mercy, tell Mister Keates that he can conclude the interview at his leisure."

A nod and a touch of a computer pad.

"How was… Pony Land?"

I bow my head slightly, smiling as I do so.

"Equestria."

"Gesundheit."

"Thank you. It's a wonderful place. Almost like a children's animated series brought to life. A… Well written one, with the occasional competent adversary-."

"I'm familiar with the type. My media companies produce several."

"Interested in doing a documentary on the other side of the mirror? The videos of Luna are generating a farcical amount of attention, given what else is going on around here."

He pauses, then pushes his datapad aside and gives me his full attention.

"Has your paramour agreed to that?"

"Not yet. Though honestly, I think she'll find the whole process fascinating." Hm. "I may have to remind her that she doesn't need to project her voice so much with modern microphones. She was born in an earlier age and has a very healthy set of 'addressing the troops' lungs."

"That is an interesting idea. And meeting a friendly alien species will serve to encourage people to consider the less militant aspect of interstellar expeditions."

"Could do a series, then. Mars has more or less stabilised, and Tamaran's populated by orange swimsuit models."

He nods. "Mars, yes. But while our ships are perfectly capable of reaching Tamaran, it would be a stretch on our supply lines."

I… Think for a moment.

"How quickly can we put together a long ranged exploration vessel?"

"A dedicated one?" I nod. "I'm sure that Doctor Metcalf has a design. We can't really afford to refit an existing battlecruiser, but we could probably assemble one inside a year. Why?"

"There aren't any heavily fortified obstacles between here and Tamaran. The only outstanding problems are raiders. And no one will expect a dedicated explorer to fight actual warships. So there's no loss of pride if I arrange for the ship to be met at the other end by a friendly fleet."

"And it will serve as a further encouragement to anyone interested in peaceful space travel." He nods. "I agree. I'll draft a request for Doctor Metcalf."

I smile broadly. "I do so like living in the future. Don't you?"

Behind me, Mr. Keates smiles as he shakes hands with the failed Chinese spy and sends him on his way.

 

[Mr Zoat]

5th July 2012
01:47 GMT

I stand as Queen Kalista and Lord Pren enter the ship's lounge.

"I apologise if now is an inconvenient time. I.. never actually bothered to learn what the standard Vega day cycle was."

We're on board a karnan ship over their recently liberated homeworld, the ship serving as an effective command centre pending the construction of something a little more modern on the ground. Sensibly, they've been prioritising farms, roads and basic manufacturing over war making, which is particularly sensible since they don't have any obvious threats left.

Lord Pren shakes his head as he walks towards me. "Ships keep their own time. While a little notice would have been nice, receiving you isn't a problem."

Kalista sits down on the karnan-scale plush chair behind her, and Pren and I take that as the sign that we should do the same. She… Seems to be in better general health than last time I saw her, but now that my focus isn't being distracted by anything else… Euphorians are near-human in appearance, but unlike the human-but-orange-with-huge-hair Tamaraneans, the differences in her case are subtle and.. off-putting.

"Why have you asked to see us? We have been assuming that if you wanted anything further to do with Vega you would work through Princess Koriand'r or Princess Komand'r."

Her skin is pale pink just off a hue that a Caucasian human could have. Her eyebrows naturally forming an arc which to a human looks like someone drew a weirdly exaggerated line on her forehead. The proportions of her head are a little off as well, her eyes without either pupil or iris and her hair's naturally a dull purple. All together, she looks like she escaped the uncanny valley.

"I was in the area on unrelated business, when I was reminded that the shield around Euphorix is still up."

A quick scan shows me that there are a couple of Euphorian armsmen taking up station just outside of the door, probably more to prevent people walking in on us than in the belief that they'll do any good if I make an attack. I'd guess that they're liberated slaves. If they were just working away from home when the shield went up, there's no obvious reason why they'd leave wherever they were to come here.

Lord Pren tries to maintain a poker face, but I saw the flash of desire when he realised the implication.

"You think that you can breach it?"

"That.. depends. Does it have an arcane component?"

Kalista shakes her head. "No. The planet has protective wards -weak ones- but they play no part in the shield."

"Then I should be able to teleport past it. Do you want me to? Are there any messages you wish me to relay?"

There's a slight… Pren's using telepathy to speak to her while they appear to consider it.

"I do deal with both magic users and telepaths on a regular basis, Lord Pren."

"I-." They actually look at each other before Pren turns back to me. "I suppose I'm just a little surprised at the offer. Why are you making it?"

"I take it that you're not the only telepath on Euphorix?"

"It's… Not a common ability, but no."

I shrug. "It's Colu. The Computer Tyrants are surviving on the networked brains of sixty billion inhabitants. My idea for getting them out involved using telepaths, but I don't have sixty billion telepaths or anything like sixty billion telepaths."

He frowns. "How many do you have?"

"One. I'm negotiating to hire more, but even optimistically there's going to be a big gap between the number of Coluans and the number of telepaths. And… I felt that I should probably make an effort to improve relations after… Last time."

"You want us to agree to supply you with telepaths in exchange for bypassing the shield?"

"I'd.. like you to allow me to offer temporary employment to any Euphorian telepaths who are interested. The work could be dangerous, and I've got no interest in forcing anyone."

Pren relaxes slightly.

"Also… The way I teleport is me-only by default. If you can ward yourself against damage caused by transubstantial travel through elemental realms then you could come with me. Can you?"

He looks at Kalista, who shakes her head.

"How can you travel to such places?"

"It's how power rings work. If a Lantern gets good enough they don't just draw on it, they can actually transubstantiate and travel to where the power comes from. Or.. not 'comes from', exactly, but… In the case of orange, you become one with the desires of everyone and everything who is and has ever been."

They've both sort of frozen.

"So, yes, I can get past the shield, but bringing anyone else requires specialist equipment."

Kalista sits up slightly.

"I've.. only heard that described as.. a possible adverse consequence of certain forms of astral projection. How do you survive that?"

"I'm a sample size of one, but as far as I can tell, by the time you've gotten the ability to do that, you're already so far removed from a normal conceptual framework that it isn't a problem. If you're using a ring rather than the world's magic then you literally can't do it before you're ready. I think. Like I said, sample size one."

She stares at me, and while Lord Pren clearly doesn't have quite the same intensity of reaction, he clearly feels a little out of sorts.

"Messages?"

"Ah, well…" She blinks, looking away to get herself back together. "Just tell Lord Dulak to turn the shield off. It's served its purpose."

"I'm happy to pass on a message to that effect, though I doubt that he'll just take my word for it." I wave my right hand in a circle and generate a holocamera construct. "If you'd like to rephrase?"

Pren shrugs. "I can just tell you how to turn it off."

"You.. could, but quite aside from the fact that I don't particularly want to either fight my way through the Euphorix military or cause planetwide panic when everyone sees the only thing keeping them safe disappears, I also don't want to pick a side in Euphorian politics without knowing a good deal more than I do now. I can pass on whatever messages you have no problem but I'm not volunteering for anything else."

"I am the Queen."

"Again, I don't take a position on the legitimacy of a ruler unless I have a stake in the outcome. I want a peaceful Vega and I've got it now. I can offer to deliver a message because I'm waiting for the government of Mars to finish ruminating on how they're going to rearrange their political system and possibly be a bit less racist from now on. I may also need to-." I frown. "Does Euphorix have necromancers?"

"Yes." Kalista nods. "Not a great many, but the art of speaking to the dead is practised on Euphorix."

"And they can raise the spirits of aliens?"

"I believe so."

"Excellent. I'll talk to one while I'm there." I gesture to the camera with my right hand. "Do you want to work on a script or just ad-lib it?"