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

[Mr Zoat]

5th July 2012
02:22 GMT

Euphorix looks like a pretty nice place to live. I'm looking at Aesad -the capital city- and even the most densely populated part could pass for a park on most worlds. I guess this is what splendid isolation gets you. Though I'm… Curious. This is the capital, but I'm not seeing any structures which strike me as being particularly old. Some places do build new capitals to signal the start of a new age, but it's far more common to build the new atop the old. Total disregard for history is extremely unusual.

I've picked up a few open uses of magic, but it appears to be restricted to a small portion of the population. Euphorix is governed like a scaled down version of the Crown Imperium so I wouldn't be astonished to learn that magic education was restricted to the ruling class, but… I suppose it could be a heritable trait, or require a particular ritual to connect people to the local thaumosphere. I can't assume that the magic system here works in exactly the same way as the one on Earth.

Psychic abilities are similarly limited. As far as I can tell, almost the entire population has a really low level of psychic ability, with a tiny proportion having higher levels. As much as I can tell from the way people are dressed, that doesn't appear to be an aristocratic thing.

I glance up.

The colour of the sky is a little off-putting. It's still blue, but the planetary shield is changing the visible wavelengths just enough that it's a weirdly deep blue. All the time. I suppose that.. could be something to do with the weather control system as well; there aren't any clouds at the moment and I suspect that there won't be any until just before a downpour.

Okay, time to get to work. Armour in subspace, fabricate some local clothing… I look enough like the local men that I shouldn't draw enough attention to need a holographic disguise. Queen Kalista was kind enough to provide me with a document seal which should get me past the palace guards. There's no one obvious entry point to the palace grounds, but… If I drop down behind this titanic tree that should conceal me from observers…

And I'm on the ground. The local grass wannabe feels like a sort of spongy cactus underfoot. Scan a local single person vehicle… One of the hover bikes should do. Fairly standard. Fabricate that… And get on, activating the impeller system and heading for the closest road. Not a lot of traffic here, though I'm not sure if that's because of the time of day or… The locals just aren't that interested in moving around. I turn onto the road without difficulty and accelerate towards the palace entrance.

No one challenges me as I approach. There's no fortification; it looks like the road carries on to an underground parking area while the pedestrian entrance leads to something that looks more like a hotel foyer than the more militarised entrances I'm used to on Earth. I suppose that if they're unified internally and locked off externally there isn't anything like as much need for that-

Alert! Spell Eater temperature increasing!

-though that doesn't mean that there aren't passive measures in place.

Since I don't immediately get jumped by Euphorian marines I reduce my speed and turn down into the car park. Nodding approvingly at the clearly marked parking spaces I park my bike and then jog back up the entry ramp to the main entrance. I push on the door… Yes, it's really just a matter of pushing it and walking inside.

A standard pattern humanoid woman manning the desk smiles at me.

"Business at the palace?"

"Courier, ma'am." I take the message packet with the royal seal on it. "Message for the Regent, to be delivered into his hand."

She raises a sceptical eyebrow.

"On paper? Is someone playing a prank?"

"They just give me these things. Look, just check the seal and if the joke's on me then I'll go home and thump the dispatcher."

She snorts, takes the packet and waves the seal over a scanner built into the desk. Then her face falls in shock and she drops it.

"Ma'am?"

"Wouldyoupleasejustwaitrighthere?"

"Sure?"

She rises from her seat and dashes to an adjacent room, the door closing behind her. I give her a moment, then lean over the desk and recover my package. I'm not exactly deeply under cover here; Primus just told me to 'present the seal and request an audience', otherwise I'd have bothered to find out what the official protocol was. My idea is to see if Regent Alonzo tries the tried and tested 'panic, fingers in ears, lash out' stages of megalomaniac grief management or if he accepts the situation and does what Queen Kalista is clearly expecting him to and lower the shield.

The receptionist bustles back in, an unconvincing smile on her face.

"Hiiii."

I do my best to look like a confused courier.

"Ma'am?"

"They'll-. Someone will be down in a moment to show you up. Obviously the Regent works in a secure sector, so they'll need to take you through security."

I nod.

"Okay? Honestly, I was expecting a little more security to get this far."

I try to look harmless as my rings show me guards in the upper levels dashing for the lifts, the ones who aren't flat out diving out of the building and relying on their armour's g-diffuser to allow them to descend in safety.

Oh my. That lift moves fast. Faster than terminal velocity. It's actually quite hard to make them-.

The marines exit the lift in good but quick order, forming what probably isn't supposed to look like a cage around me. At least their weapons are stowed. After taking a moment to assure themselves that nothing is about to explode -and I note that the drop-troopers outside are establishing a perimeter, oh joy- the head of the detail steps closer.

"Courier?"

"Ah, yes? Yes sir?"

"Not yet, but we've got the Graalsun honours list coming up, so nose twitching, huh?" He smiles. "Just gotta do a quick scan, then we can take you up."

"Sure. Go right ahead."

Two troopers with mobile multiphasic scanners approach on either side, and as they work I have my rings falsify the results so that I look like a local. One who isn't wearing power rings. They're done in a few seconds, then step back.

"Okay, no contraband of any kind. I'm… Not seeing you in the system."

I stop smiling quite so much.

"No. You wouldn't, would you?"

Slight intake of breath as he understands what I'm implying, then he half-turns to address the room.

"First squad, back in the lift. Everyone else, you know what to do." He turns back to me. "Please come with me, Mister..?"

"Illustres. Sure. Just…" I take a half-step towards the lift. "Up there?"

"Just up there."

"Wow. I've never met the Regent before." I walk into the lift, the squad falling in around me as the doors hiss closed. "Will he want me to wait for a reply?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

5th July 2012
02:27 GMT

Regent Alonzo Dulak steeples his hands on the other side of the desk, which combined with his red clothing/albino physiology colour scheme makes him look so totally evil that I scan for vampirism. No. Do Euphorians see on different wavelengths to humans? Not significantly.

Guess it's cultural, then.

He glances at the opened letter on the desk next to him

"The only thing I don't understand is why -having broken through our shield- you're pretending to be an ignorant courier."

I straighten my stance slightly, prompting my escort to tighten their grips on the weapons slightly. His office is pretty plain, considering he's spent a decade or so as the ruler of all he surveys. There's an oil painting of a group… A young Kalista and a few other people I assume are her immediate family. No Pren, but it could well have been before they met. No pictures of his family, and the stone statue in the corner has been in place long enough to have faded where the ceiling light shines on it.

"Because while I'm obviously not what I appear, no one knows what I am."

"You're biological. More creative than the vat-creatures the psions usually make… No, I can't see them allowing someone this amount of independence. The Crown Imperium, perhaps? I'd be surprised if they had teleportation technology advanced enough to bypass the shield, but it's not impossible."

"May I ask if you've read the letter?"

"Yes. And I have." He moves his hands apart, laying his left flat on the table and drumming the fingers of his right on the letter itself. "Did you?"

"Not the letter, no."

"The Gordanian Empire and the Wombworld have been destroyed, and we are to lower the shield and resume contact with the wider universe. The seal is accurate, the writing matching both Queen Kalista's penmanship and lexicon and the letter is composed as a royal dictum." He moves his left hand, picking up a small scanner and waving it over the letter. "Finger prints and genetic traces from both Queen Kalista and Lord Pren-. Is he still calling himself Primus?"

"Yes."

He shakes his head dismissively. "Nonsense like that is why the late Queen never approved Queen Kalista's marriage. What sort of person starts out on a quest for justice by changing their name? The man's a complete chuuni."

…

Today is a good day.

"I couldn't possibly comment."

I take a data stick containing the rest of their messages -as well as a summary of the situation in the Vega Systems- out of my pocket and-.

And roll my eyes at a guard who was a little ahead of the game and pointed her gun at me the moment I moved, then offer it to her.

"The rest of the messages. To be released or not as you see fit."

Alonzo looks puzzled.

"I doubt that your instructions included 'as you see fit'."

"I offered to convey the letter. I'm not here to make sure that someone with no obvious incentive to remove themselves from office obeys the content."

"I don't appreciate your tone."

"But you do appreciate the content?" He moues and I shrug. "I'd like to employ Euphorians from specialist professions, but it's hardly the end of the universe if I can't."

"What professions are those?"

"At the moment, telepathic specialists. I've got a job to do that requires a great deal of telepathic involvement, and even if my other negotiations go very well I'm going to need more. And I can't get them unless the shield comes down."

"If you want to access the contents of a person's mind, there are far easier ways to do so. I can build…"

I shake my head.

"I need to move sixty billion consciousnesses from a radio telepathic network. Do you have a device that can-?"

"No."

"I'd also like to employ a necromancer."

"We.. have those, but why? They can't operate on a thaumically dead world."

"I know. My homeworld and our immediate neighbour are both thaumically active. We've just never really developed a tradition of sophisticated necromancy."

"It's a minority interest amongst a small segment of our population, but I assure you that those who master the subject are perfectly sophisticated." He looks away, sighing. "No, there's no getting around this. If the fighting is over, I'll have to lower the shield. I'll need a few days to go over the data and come up with a form of words to use to convey what's.. happened to the general population."

I nod politely.

"That's probably sensible."

I can see perfectly well that he didn't want them to return. As far as I can tell he'd rather assumed that they were gone permanently the moment the shield went up, something he regarded as a good thing. As far as I can see he hasn't done a terrible job of running the planet in Kalista's absence, and… How disconnected from the goings on in the rest of Vega are the Euphorians? Will they care about a Queen who left them for a decade, when set against the man who kept them safe and ruled them wisely?

Isn't it great that it's not my problem?

"Would you like to send a message back?"

"Yes, I probably should."

He pulls a sheet of paper out of his desk drawer and picks up a.. fountain pen analogue, then writes a hurried reply. I wait while he finishes, then lowers the pen and waves a device over the paper to dry the ink. Then he folds it and then applies his seal to the join. Lastly, he picks it up and holds it out to me.

"Fine. Deliver this into Queen Kalista's hand."

"Certainly." I lean forwards and take it from him.

"And-." Something occurs to him. "Since the shield will most likely come down in a few days, would you like to speak to one of our necromancers before you leave?"

"No need. Back in a second."

I raise my right hand to my forehead,

head towards Kalista and Pren's shared desire to return home and then

return to the material universe.

"Here." I jab at her with the letter, and she instinctively takes it. "He wants a few days to prepare."

"W-?"

And then it's

back to Euphorix.

"But I would appreciate it if I could speak to one now."

 

[Mr Zoat]

4th July 2012
21:28 EST

This, this is not something I'm ever gettin' used to.

On Oa. Not 'cause I'm gettin' trained, or gettin' some sorta bullshit health assessment, or gettin' yelled at in person. On Oa, wearin' the cape an' sash that comes with bein' on the Honor Guard… An' the couple a' other Green Lanterns I fly past 're actually lookin' impressed.

It feels good, but it feels weird, too. Don't wanna get all 'self-sabotagy' or nothin', but I'm not sure… I'm not sure how t' deal with it. Random people tellin' me I'm great is nice but it's no big deal. These 're… Other Lanterns. Vets, some of 'em.

I don't think I've earned this yet. Paul said somethin' about not having earned his ring when he got it, and… Yeah. I dunno about Hal, but I don't think I've earned my sash yet. Earned the ring, yeah. But the jury's out on the sash. But I'm here and Hal isn't, so maybe I'm closer than he is.

I wave my right hand through the door sensor, then wait. Not at attention or nothin', but I doubt-. The door opens, and I walk inside. It's… Not as big as I thought it'd be. Yeah, there's a touch a' mad science lab, but there's a whole bunch a' museum pieces… Statues, stuff like that, all around the place like he put 'em down and forgot about 'em.

"Honor Guard Lantern Gardner."

Guardian Appa Ali Apsa smiles. Not a little polite smile, but like he's genuinely pleased to see me. He floats up from his platform desk thing and the mini-lantern in the middle of it and flies over to his little… Highchair thing. He points at the humanoid-size chair opposite.

"Won't you sit down?"

Talkin' to Guardians is… Kinda awkward. Most Lanterns call 'em 'Master', which… I mean, yeah, they're the masters of the Corps, but it always felt kinda weird.

Wish I'd been there when John first heard it.

"Thanks fer takin' the time t'meet me, boss."

I walk-. Ah, pick my way across the room and take the chair. I guess for someone his size who's used t' flyin' around it's pretty easy, but fer a guy my size it's kinda awkward. An' I know Guardians are real busy and he's probably got about a thousand things he needs t' be doin' right now…

"Not at all."

Most Guardians are… Not cold. Not alla them. Ganthet and Sayd are okay. But… Impersonal. Like a doctor or somethin'. Not Appa. He learned some actual people skills sometime in the last million years.

"What was it you wanted to ask me?"

"It's about Mars."

"There's not much I can add to the record you already have. I didn't personally take part. There were more of us-"

He looks away for a moment, which is the kinda humanity the others don't do.

-back then."

"Right. See… I talked with Paul one time… He told me that he knew things about our friends that they didn't know themselves. One of them had a kid he didn't know about, another one accidentally killed someone… When I asked him what I didn't know about me… Turned out someone I really admired was actually about five different people, an' they used t' swap 'em out after the last one died."

He nods.

"Like a child's hamsters."

And then there's stuff like that, where a guy older than mammals remembers stuff about your culture. I barely remember stuff about Californian culture.

"Yeah, kinda like that. I guess after that, and the Ophidian and Vega, I should have thought about it more, but he kinda implied that he knew stuff about the Green Lantern Corps that isn't in the ring database."

"Yes, he's a curious individual, isn't he? Did he mention this before he made contact with our Controller cousins?"

Did he? I don't really remember the details, just that there was some sorta insinuation. Early on, that wasn't what I was payin' attention to. Nah, can't remember.

"Ah..? Think so?"

"Hm. So?"

"So? Is there more? I mean, we let loose that Malvolio guy, an' I'm pretty sure you're gunna send the Honor Guard after him." I shrug. "An… How come I didn't know about him? I'm on the Honor Guard. We're the guys you have t' deal with stuff like that."

"Guy, the Green Lantern Corps has existed for just over three billion Earth years. During that time it has done a huge amount of good. However, on some occasions, mistakes have been made. Or, simply hard decisions taken where there was no good answer to be had. In the case of Larfleeze, we enacted a policy of containment which saw him restricted to an area of space which at the time contained no life."

"My Sector's got some life in it."

"And did Paul do it any harm?"

"Not ex-. No."

"Forcing the issue would have risked making him the enemy of the Corps. If he fought us, I believe that the Corps would have won, eventually, but the damage would have been considerable. And with the Corps unable to fulfil our other commitments and with new recruits trying to protect their Sectors, the damage spreads. As it was, we felt that giving him some room was for the best."

That-. Huh.

"And Malvolio?"

"We allowed him to keep his ring as part of an experiment to see how your species interacted with a power ring. And given how his adopted Sector fell apart without him, I doubt that we'll be rushing to contain him."

"Did I..? Miss some part of the handbook?"

"Hm." Appa folds his hands across his lap. "When I was on Earth, Oliver Queen tried explaining the rules of Ice Hockey to me. I even bought the complete rulebook while I was there."

Still kinda pissed I missed out on showin' a Guardian around.

"Yeah?"

"And yet, nowhere in the rulebook does it mention what a 'smart penalty' is. I doubt that young humans being introduced to the game for the first time are told 'if it looks like the other team are going to score, hit the person with the puck with your stick'. Are they?"

Uh… Canada…

"Doubt it. But-."

"Three billion years, Lantern Gardner. We have made many mistakes in that time. Some of them… Devastating. Krona's was the worst, but there were others not far off. The most common are relatively trivial, when a Lantern misassigns blame for a violent conflict and intervenes on the side of the belligerent party. Thaal Sinestro earned his repudiation but in the grand scheme of things the actions which led to it weren't that great. But taken as a whole, such things represent perhaps a billionth of a percent of the sum total of the Corps' deeds. Did Paul tell you why the Controllers separated from the Guardians in the first place?"

I shake my head.

"Before the Green Lantern Corps, before the Halla, we at first attempted to spread universal law and order through the use of specialised androids. They were called the Manhunters. We Guardians pride ourselves on both our rationality and our selfless service to the wider universe, and we foolishly assumed that one led to the other. That a purely rational species would relate to the universe in the same way that we do, without the need for introducing convoluted value systems. We chose a Space Sector in which to test them before a galaxy-wide implementation and a few hours later they killed nearly every living thing in it. Burned the whole place down to the bedrock."

Shit.

"That was the second worst thing we've ever done, surpassed only by Krona's misdeeds. And afterwards… A little under a third of us left, forming the Controllers. And.. that is why I'm the Guardian I am today. That oversight made it painfully apparent to me that embracing pure cold rationality left holes in our ability to understand the universe. In the way beings other than us think. So-"

He looks around.

"-this. I embrace other cultures, other points of view, because I do not want to ever have anything like that ever happen again because we didn't consider something we should have done. And while we don't advertise that one billionth of one percent, we can't forget it."

He nods at his mini-lantern.

"As a member of the Honor Guard you have access to our unabridged records. A full accounting for everything that has ever gone wrong would take a few years to go through, but I've loaded in a summary. And if you've got any questions, I'll do my best to answer them."

He sighs.

"Though I can't promise that either of us will like all of the answers."

 

[Mr Zoat]

5th July 2012
07:43 GMT

"Tricky."

"But could you do it?"

I glance through the cockpit window and see Adam Blake frown, his eyes a little distant.

"I honestly don't know. I know for sure I could contact that many minds, but I don't know whether or not I could move them."

"No, I.. just meant, 'could you add to the group effort'?"

He nods, his eyes refocusing. "Oh, certainly. It's not often I meet an intelligence I can't outsmart."

"You've met Vran Gozzi, haven't you?"

"She's…" He sighs. "She lacks the.. spark. The passion. She's let herself become a living calculator. I hope that the rest of her species aren't like that."

"I'm.. not sure I understand."

"I'm a man of my time in a lot of ways. Much as I wanted to see the galaxy, I-. Well, I'd like to have someone to share it with."

"I'd have thought that there'd be at least someone on Tamaran-."

He shakes his head. "Oh, I don't mean-. Tamaranean social mores are a good deal more… Permissive, than those I grew up with. But the idea of… Having 'intimate relations' for their own sake doesn't appeal to me." He sighs quietly. "Komand'r did propose to me, but I'm even less interested in marrying a teenager now than I was back when I was a teenager."

"So you're looking for a mature woman with a varied life experience, intelligence in your league and an adventurous spirit?"

He chuckles quietly. "I know, I don't ask for much, do I?"

"Humanoid?"

He raises his left eyebrow. "Preferably? Did you have someone in mind?"

"Mother of Mercy can ramp up her intellect to any level you want, and she's certainly unique."

"I'm sure she's a very nice plant-planet, but when I say I'm not just looking for a 'good time', I don't mean that I'm completely disinterested in a.. physical relationship."

"What a man and his 'plant-planet' get up to in the privacy of their own geosphere is their business."

"I'd prefer humanoid."

"I think.. Hera's still single?"

That gets another eyebrow.

"If I remember my Greek mythology correctly, Hera is married to Zeus."

"Not.. any more. They got divorced last year." I shrug. "He brought it on himself, really. She's thousands of years old, physically humanoid, I don't even know if you can read her mind… Last I heard she was looking for new experiences… You want me to set something up?"

"Ah. How likely is Zeus to take offence at me dating his ex-wife?"

"I'm the one who convinced her to divorce him and he only shot me with lightning once."

"Alright. In that case, yes. Let's give it a-"

We drop out of warp, Colu just ahead of us.

"-try. Huh."

"You can feel them?"

"I can feel… I guess that must be the Computer Tyrants themselves. I've never had.. contact this direct with an AI before. Their thoughts are… Strangely angular. It's like looking at a.. complex.. piece of.. clockwork…"

"Adam, gaze in wonder when you're on the ground and not in charge of a spacecraft."

"I'm perfectly capable of splitting my attention. Exactly how much lightning did Zeus hit you with?"

"I'm not sure. A lot. Enough to fry a human of my dimensions."

"The reason I'm asking is that I'm only tougher than a normal man because of my telekinesis. When I'm asleep, I'm just as vulnerable as anyone else."

"I've never seen Zeus hit a target underground or in space."

"I think I remember Kent Nelson saying something about an ideal wife being one who keeps you on your toes."

"If you like electrocution I have it on good authority that Zeus is bisexual."

"How's about you go and check on the Martians?"

"I'll leave you to it, then."

I come to a relative stop in space as his ship carries on towards the Green Lantern Corps' temporary base of operation, and raise my right hand to my forehead,

appearing

back in the Martian capital next to S'yrra.

"What-"

**Agh!**

"-news?"

S'yrra stares at me-. No, glares at me for a few moments, then shifts into a human form. With clothes, I'm relieved to note; some Martians flying around here haven't quite managed to grasp their significance in human society.

"The Council are deliberating. They will likely be able to give an indication of the direction of travel within a day. Then it will be the longer task of hashing out details. Can you not provide warning before doing that?"

"I could try appearing further away, but that's inefficient. Given that you're from the small portion of your civilisation that is allowed to learn magic, have you considered asking to be taught a basic spell to grant you a prescient warning? Or acquiring an artefact to grant it to you?"

"We're a species of networked telepaths. Martians do not creep up on one another."

"So how have the Hyperclan escaped detection?"

"They have also assassinated Sorcerer Priests, so I assume that they can bypass warning spells. In any case, learning even simple magic would take me away from my other duties for too long to justify it."

"Will the Council require any further testimony from me? Is there anything else I can do to encourage them to decide in our favour?"

She shakes her head. "None of these are precisely original arguments, and you have already shared your thoughts on your meeting with the… 'The Burner'. Unless you can persuade a Guardian to give personal testimony, there is little else you can do."

"I suppose I can ask. Ring, contact Lantern Gardner."

"Compliance."

My ring blinks, then Guy's head appears. He looks a little out of sorts.

"Hey Paul. What's up?"

"Still on Mars. I realise that the answer's probably 'no', but is there any chance that a Guardian would be prepared to give testimony? They don't need to come in person, just communicating via ring would be fine."

He looks away for a moment, then turns back.

"Yeah. I think we can set that up."

 

[Mr Zoat]

5th July 2012
09:58 GMT +2

"Yes, as it happens I am currently single."

Hera seems to have calmed down a good deal since our last meeting. That might be to do with her current job as a Greek television personality affording her respect and social contact while also incentivising a slightly more… Restrained manner.

"Why the sudden interest? Diana told me that you're dating that assassin girl."

"A male heroic mortal of my acquaintance has expressed an interest in seeking a wife. Since he appeared to meet-."

She beams, her joy and incredulity written plainly on her face.

"You're trying to make a match for me?! You cheeky man!"

Several members of the film crew look around at her exclamation, but once they reassure themselves that she's just amused they go back to whatever they were doing.

"It seemed unlikely that Cronus had anyone lined up. For all I know you're temperamentally unsuited to one another."

"Alright." She leans back in her chair, clearly still amused by my impudence. "Who is this hero, and how do.. I meet his requirements?"

"Adam Blake, sixty one years old." I take a hologram projector out of subspace, load it with an image of him and put it on the table in front of her.

She looks him over. "'Sixty one'? Not entirely human then, or does he dye his hair?"

"We're not actually sure if he ages. He left Earth in the seventies, and he only started looking older after being captured and tortured for years. He looks younger now than he did after I freed him, and he might continue to move towards his prime."

"Oh, that's fine. I'd hardly be interested in a youth." I raise my eyebrows. "I wasn't going to marry you. You were going to get a weekend if you were lucky. Marriage is a far more serious matter."

"I am at once insulted and reassured."

She looks at me expectantly. "Well? Go on."

"He told me that he was looking for a mature woman with a varied life experience, intelligence in his league -he is very intelligent- and an adventurous spirit."

"I'll happily match wits with him if he promises to be less boorish than my last husband. However, I'm concerned about what he means by 'adventurous spirit'."

"He gets bored easily and so seeks out new experiences. And I don't mean sexual ones, I mean something new to do. At the moment he's organising the reindustrialisation of a planet ruined by war and occupation, and from what I saw last time I was on Tamaran he's more or less finished the top down part."

"Did they make him their king?"

"No, but he's on excellent terms with their current king."

She frowns. "And does the king have no daughters?"

"He has two, but Adam told me that they're too young and inexperienced for him."

"I certainly have experience. But I rather like where I'm living now."

"Adventure is relative. This is still new for you, isn't it?"

"I suppose. What's your interest in this? He's not related to you."

"Once he's finished on Tamaran, I'd like to tempt him back to Earth-"

"Hah!"

"-to take over our uplift project, since the challenge is a little more complex than what he's experiencing on Tamaran."

Her eyes and grin both widen. "And you want to use me as a lure?!"

"It wouldn't.. hurt. If things worked out. I don't think he's exactly going to rush into anything."

She looks at me a little more seriously. "And you think I am?"

"No. You have no political need for a particular or rapid pairing and a personal one for a life-partner. If I've caught your attention, you'll give it due consideration, and give a direct answer."

"I will. And I'll admit, he does appear to meet my minimum requirements. Very well; I'll meet him. Ask him to set a date at his earliest convenience. I'll pick the restaurant, since he won't know anywhere on Earth."

"Thank you. I will pass that on."

"Does he speak Greek? Ancient or modern."

"Both. He's also a telepath, so it wouldn't matter if he couldn't."

"By magic, or some sort of… Brain-thing."

"Brain thing."

"It won't work on me. Which is probably for the best in a relationship. And speaking of relationships, how are you and the assassin getting on?"

"Well, thank you. I'll-" I push my chair back and rise to my feet. "-pass on the-."

♥"You are sworn to the Olympians and acting within my domain. Speak with me."♥

I sit down in something of a hurry.

"Yes… Ah, Jade's progressing in her chosen career, establishing herself separate from my influence. That's something I've encouraged because the moment she thinks that she's dependent on me is the moment she starts being unhappy."

"Ideally, you'd depend on each other."

"I remember reading a while ago that if-" A man. "-a person earned more than a certain amount per year it was far cheaper to hire cleaners and surrogates and nannies and prostitutes than date or marry." I shrug. "I'm a Lantern. A very good one. I'll never depend on anyone. But there are skills I don't have, so I'm trying to help her achieve things in that direction."

"A pleasant change of pace. I've known kings in your position who were singularly incapable of staying in their marital beds."

"You married one." / "I married one."

She smiles, nodding. "And if you respect her skills in the way my former husband never respected mine, that may well work. But I'm concerned about your distance. You do at least communicate with her regularly?"

"Several times a week, at least when we're both in a position to communicate. I know most of the friends she's made while there, but they're her friends and not our friends. I've planned this, oh Hera."

"You're the most orderly discordian I've ever met. Is that a subversion of expectations… Thing?"

"No. I just recognise the importance of undoing dysfunctional order. Your family works best when regarded as a unified whole. The fact that I'm currently closer to one of you doesn't mean that I've forgotten that."

"Ah. If only we remembered that."

 

[Mr Zoat]

5th July 2012
11:08 GMT +3

Natasa nods uncertainly.

"I'm… I.. can raise the shades of any who exist in Lord Hades' halls, which includes the shades of those who are not human. The shade of those housed elsewhere would require negotiations with their God of the Dead."

"What if they don't have one?"

"Then… With the head of their pantheon. Unless they have reincarnated."

"Is there..? If someone-. If a soul is reincarnated, is there a record of where they went? The fact that they were reborn?"

"Lord Hades keeps such records, as do the gods of the Hindus. For other pantheons, I do not know."

"How about if they don't have a religious belief?"

"The.. a-li-ens whom you brought to Lord Hades did not worship him in life. Is that what you meant?"

Unsurprisingly, Ancient Greek doesn't have a word for 'space aliens'. Even in English, 'alien' literally just means 'not from around here'. Alan generally says 'space aliens' when I'd just say 'aliens', but for the Amazons just calling them xénos wouldn't make sense. They call Greeks from the mainland xénos. In fact, that's what they usually use the word for; other nationalities are referred to by their name. The sudden need for a word to refer to people and things from a little further afield than Crete led to the Amazons mugging a leaf out of English's book and stealing a loan word.

"No. When their souls were left on Ater Clementia, just drifting around."

"Yes, that would be easy. Even if they did not want to speak with me, I could certainly identify them."

"Could you tell if they'd died and been reincarnated?"

"If I could find their body. I am… I know the rites, but-" She shakes her head. "-there is little call for them on Themyscira. I do not know that I have the skills you want."

"Would you be willing to try?"

"Yes-. Wait. Where do you wish me to try?"

"Mars."

She frowns. "Ares?" Then she smiles. "Is he dead? Did you and the Princess kill him?"

"No. And not the Roman deity either. The planet."

"Another world?"

"You are.. familiar with the idea that-."

"Yes, I-. Know. I…" She looks around the temple, probably as an excuse to not look at me. "Haven't.. left Themyscira."

"In over three thousand years?"

"In the entire two thousand eight hundred and seventy three years of my life. I was born here."

"The door to New York has been there for-."

"A few more of my sisters have requested initiation into the mysteries of the Cult of Hades, thanks to your efforts at changing the way we are perceived. But with Thana away, I am the senior priestess."

"Given how infrequently Amazons die, and how cheerful Lord Hades is at the moment, I'm pretty sure you could get away for a few hours."

"If I refuse, will you drag me out of the temple to… Fondle in the way you did Thana?"

"Will I need to? DO you want me to? Shoving people out of their ruts is a devotional act for me."

She looks away, clearing her throat.

"That will not be necessary. I will accompany you to.. Mars. Will there..? Be other people around?"

"Um. We can go somewhere without other people if you prefer? Most of the Martians I've met have been fairly nice."

"Perhaps if I could just… View them from a distance?"

I hold out my left hand. "I can manage that."

She regards my hand for a moment, then takes it. Some Amazons like seeing their home from far above. Io adjusted to being away fairly quickly, but while Thana adjusted to her own company as part of the job it looks like Natasa picked a job that didn't involve being around people because that's how she prefers it.

Each to their own. Not like Themyscira is short on… Whatever the medieval version of a shut-in is.

"Ready? " She nods. "Three, t-"

Transition.

"-wo, and we're here."

Natasa looks around at the desolate panorama surrounding us, then tilts her head back to take in the giant telekinetic pillars that are just about the only decoration on this part of the Martian surface.

"So we're looking for the shade of a wizard called 'Karmang'. He's from a very long time ag-"

"I'm on.. another world."

"-o. Yes, I did say."

"Yes." She looks down at the ground. "This land… It even feels dead."

"It is. The locals live underground, aside from a few areas they're replanting. You specified 'isolated', so-."

"I appreciate your consideration. If the spirit of Karmang is willing to speak with me, this will be quick. Otherwise I must simply call… How long ago did he die?"

"He's the founder of modern Martian society. He might even be amongst the first generation of modern Martians."

"And how are modern Martians distinguished from ancient Martians?"

"Ancient Martians spend their entire lives on fire."

"I will.. bear that in mind."

"I could build a small shrine here if that would help?"

"No, Pavlos, alienating the local gods would not make calling one of their own back into the material world easier. Please, simply remain quiet for a time."

Which I.. do. Perhaps it's unfair of me, perhaps a product of the fact that I didn't grow up on Themyscira, but if given the choice between a scholar and a cleric, I'll go with the scholar every time. The Professor of Post-Mortem Communications the Regent introduced me to would probably still be more reliable, but he said that he'd want to study the entire thaumosphere in detail before trying anything. Whereas a Themysciran priestess could try right away with a fair chance of success. The Professor is still my backup option if this doesn't work, but if the Council reaches a decision before the shield goes down then I can't-.

"Pavlos?"

"Got something?"

Natasa frowns thoughtfully at me.

"This may be a strange question, but are you certain that 'Karmang' is amongst the dead?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

5th July 2012
08:17 GMT

'I'm pretty sure that of the two of us, I'm not the necromancer'.

That would have been a good comeback. It would have been a dickish thing to say given that she's volunteered to help me, but it's interesting to see that even after everything I can still be too late with a snappy response.

The Martian capital Oll'Sal'us has some surface redevelopment, but the only real external difference between it and the other cities I've visited is that the surface entrances are slightly larger, probably to enable the larger Manhunter ships to enter and exit. One of them passes overhead as we approach, prompting a wave from me and a ducked-head-stare from Natasa.

"You must have seen aircraft before, surely?"

"Not like that. Is she.. here?"

I'm not sure who runs the capital city, but the manual agricultural reclamation appears to be being done almost exclusively by Whites with a few Green… I don't want to say 'overseers'. Line managers? I mean, some of the Greens are doing the same work as the Whites but they're clearly in the minority.

Unless they've all shapeshifted. I suppose. It's not like I could tell.

S'yrra hasn't. The other Red with her has given… This isn't working, themself two extra arms, and the runic charms… Grown? On their clothing indicate that they're the Sorcerer I asked for. The uniformed and armed Manhunters are practically background. I haven't learned Martian body language and their desires aren't focused on anything in particular. They're more job-focused at the moment.

I accelerate us, dropping to the ground just in front of the two Reds. S'yrra is focusing most of her attention on Natasa, who is maintaining a stiff and formal bearing.

"This is.. your necromancer."

Natasa gives her a shallow bow. "I am a priestess of Hades, the God of the Dead of the Hellenes."

"What are Hellenes?"

"The subset of humans from her part of the world. Different religions on Earth have different Gods of the Dead."

The Sorcerer makes.. what I think is a minor warding gesture. Their clothing is partially interfering with my empathic vision and Martian magic appears to only very roughly match up to the particular spells I've learned about on Earth.

"Have you.. tried to speak with Karmang the Good?"

"I have tried, but… I do not believe that he is dead."

The Sorcerer Priest remains completely still.

"Explain."

"Without a link to the living world, shades… Fall into torpor. Which… Makes finding the oldest a simple matter; simply look for the most slumberous. Those who were in life active magic users are easier, those whose great deeds reshaped the world easier still. I have cast around the spirit realms of Mars and I have not found sign of Karmang."

"That is hardly proof. Karmang's knowledge of magic was vast; no doubt there are ways to shield against such spells."

"Yes."

A spectral Red Martian shimmers into existence beside Natasa.

"But my master had no knowledge of them. For all his insight he knew little more than he taught us."

The sorcerer's fingers twitch and flick, arms moving rapidly-. Ah! Creating a runic network through complex ritual gestures! Clever. Humans don't really have the morphology for it, but I've seen Ted's ideas for thaumically active drones that could do something similar. Sand dances in response to the gestures, grey light twinkling around the shade.

"Who were you?"

"I awoke with no name. The one who called himself Karmang named me for the expression on the surface of my mind when he found the cave in which I awoke. Nervous but hopeful."

"Hkronmar." / "H'ronmeer."

The shade makes an affirmative gesture.

"Enunciation changes, even for us. But since it is what you want to know, I have never felt the spirit of my former master lose its material tether. I do not know how he has managed it. He never claimed to have taught us everything that he knew, but death-magic was never my focus either."

The sorcerer's eyes light up.

"I am sharing this meeting with the rest of my order. Master…" They kneel. "The knowledge you could share with us-."

"Is very little. We existed at a strange time with unique challenges, but your research has taken you far further than we could have imagined."

"I apologise for intruding in what I'm sure is a theologically significant moment for you, but-" I gesture to the panting Natasa. "-keeping old shades active isn't easy. Could we move this on to the issue at hand?"

An affirmative gesture from S'yrra. "Yes. Great H'ronmeer, do you know what Karmang the Good's opinion on the different colours of Martians was?"

"Yes, it was a subject that interested him greatly. He strove mightily to understand how a species as protean as ours could have a resting form with particular properties, and what if anything separated the colours."

"I meant, regarding their roles in society."

"Civilisation was still struggling to emerge. There were only eleven of us at Z'onn Z'orr, and it was not until I returned to the caverns that I encountered Green Martians for the first time. Karmang himself gave no commands regarding how we should lead or who should be allowed to occupy what positions. Given that he admitted to ignorance on the subject of colour identity, he would have considered it premature to make a judgement."

"But there were no Green Martians at Z'onn Z'orr."

"Not while I studied there."

"Nor White Martians."

"Not as students, no. But it would hardly have been Z'onn Z'orr without Karmang."

"What..?" The sorcerer ripples. "What do you mean by that?"

"Obviously, that Karmang was White."

Oh.

I… Look around, and see that while not all of the agronomists around us are staring at us, they've all stopped working.

"What?"

"Karmang was White. I was slightly surprised that other Whites existed; I had at first thought that it was only him." The shade turns to Natasa. "I thank you for allowing me to see what Mars has become, but you should not strain yourself so much on my account. Return me to sleep, and wake me again after you have recovered if you have need of me."

Natasa nods gratefully, and the shade evaporates.

"So how's that going to affect discussions?"

S'yrra stares at me, while the sorcerer does the vacant eye glow which indicates heavy telepathic traffic.

"You will get what you want. I'm just not sure what else will happen."

 

[Mr Zoat]

5th July 2012
13:32 GMT

The White Martians of Xan'Xie waste no time in taking advantage of the Council's decision. Overloaded civilian bio-transports are already flying out of the city's surface exits, heading towards more liberal cities. Given the size of the population shift they're not going to permanent homes, just temporary residences until such time as the other cities can divvy them up. Over to my right J'emm appears to be regarding the scene impassively, though for all I know he's shouting telepathic greetings at everyone. S'yrra's still in near-human shape and she mostly just looks sad.

The Council wasn't quite willing to flat out override a Prelate on internal law at this stage, but the travel restriction was struck down almost immediately. Where things will be tomorrow, once they've had time to accept that their entire civilisation is built on a bedrock of lies, I don't know. J'emm's stock -and that of the rest of the liberal wing- has shot up, but with his argument 'won' they've still got to decide between federalist and unitarian government structures. I have no idea what his view on that is, and as long as no one's suffering who doesn't want to I don't particularly care.

The Martians on foot are visible now, and the fact that the surface is technically liveable means that they could make the trek on foot if they had to. Fortunately they don't; the cities that have agreed to receive them are sending Manhunter ships and White advocacy groups are sending civilian transports. And I'm here with a L.E.G.I.O.N. transport in the hope that-

"Heehahaha!"

-Mr. B'lanx found some volunteers.

Ring? Yes, that is him, in a humanish shape and having to gasp for breath. He lands unsteadily in front of me and claps his right hand on my pauldron.

"You exceeded my wildest expectations! Karmang was White!"

"So it appears."

"Their entire civil order is in ruins! Is this how you handle everything?!"

"N-."

…

"Not everything. And it's not usually this fast."

"The Hyperclan couldn't destroy them this fast." He backs up slightly, nodding confidently. "I and many of my brethren will join you in the service of L.E.G.I.O.N.."

"You sure? You don't want to oversee things here? The White revolution isn't over yet."

"Yes, I am sure. The shift in the world-mind is undeniable. Even the Reds don't believe their lies any longer, and we all know it." He straightens slightly, then turns back to watch as a small number of Green Martians emerge from the city and float towards the oncoming Manhunter transports. "And the Greens have their eyes opened as well."

"Not all cities are as bad as-."

"I know. But this is the purest form of what happens all across Mars, and even the Greens don't like it. Not when they're confronted with it. I wish to join L.E.G.I.O.N. for the reasons you said: to secure our future by force of arms if necessary, and to build a future by our own efforts. I still want a power ring, but I can earn that by my own efforts if no one is stopping me in the name of a fake idol."

I nod. "Alright, well, if you could lead everyone who feels the same way-."

"In that ship?"

He gestures to the crowd behind him who aren't moving towards the Manhunter ships. It's continuing to grow as more Whites leave the city behind him.

"You'll need something bigger."

"We can do shuttle runs. We'll be sending you to Earth for a little while to get used to alien thoughts before transporting you to Maltus, but our first stop is Colu."

He freezes, his eyes lighting up for a moment. Then he and about two hundred other Martians fly up towards the transport ship.

J'emm walks over to me as they leave.

"I had hoped to talk to him. I wanted him to see in my mind that I truly believe in equality."

"I.. don't.. think he's going to want to talk to Red Martians for a little while. Can I assume that you don't need me in order to keep things going here?"

"You have what you want. And I do too, if not… Not in the manner I wanted."

"Is this a problem for you?"

"Karmang was revered by-. Not all, clearly. But I held him as an example on… How I should live my life."

"What, and you can't do that because he's White? That stuff about colour not determining your life doesn't just apply to Whites, you know. You can take White, Greens… Heck, if you find a Yellow Martian you admire you can try emulating them."

"Perhaps I have a great deal to… Unthink."

"I've got a friend who's going through something similar. If you want to talk to her-."

**Why are you here?**

"Let me deal with that first and then come back to you."

I fly past the White Martians making their way into the ship via the embarkation ramps, searching for-.

Oh. Right.

Even with everything going on, J'emm was kind enough to put the word out and a small group of telepathic specialists agreed to join me in order to help the Coluans. Naturally, being allowed to rise to the top of their fields, they're Red. Well, five out of six are Red, the sixth being Green. Mr. B'lanx's posture suggests that he's less than impressed with their presence.

I land a short distance away. The posture of the specialists is studiously neutral. I doubt that they'll be joining up after this, but… Maybe they'll ask for a trip to Earth.

"Problem?"

"You were hiring Whites."

"And I want you to perform a delicate telepathic transfer. Do you have the training or experience to do that?"

"You told us that we would be taught."

"Yes? And where did you expect me to find someone intimately familiar with the capacities of Martian telepaths?"

"Anywhere else."

"Mr B'lanx, let me be clear. You have accepted my offer of employment. This means that you work for me. Since you're still in the cooling off period and since we're still on Mars, you are free to leave. But if you don't, that means that you will be working with who I tell you to work with, on the tasks to which I assign you."

He glowers with glowing eyes.

"Well?"

"I will… Stay."

**I am no happier about this than you are.** The senior specialist steps forward. **It is difficult enough to teach complete neophytes, worse when lives are at risk. But I will direct you far better than-.**

"I'm sorry, my question wasn't rhetorical. My colleague Henry King has substantial experience with Martian telepathy, and I'm making Adam Blake the project lead. I will be expecting you to defer to them. Again, if you can't agree to those terms you are of course free to leave."

No response, though Mr. B'lanx's posture is less aggressive.

"If there are no takers? Captain, please take us up."

 

[Mr Zoat]

6th July 2012
19:12 GMT

"You..? Managing alright there?"

The Martian specialists are trying not to look at Adam as his telekinetic aura flares in a way which.. even I have to admit is uncomfortably reminiscent of a Burning Martian's skin. It's not exactly the same; he's not a shapeshifter and so his skin isn't joining in. I'm not sure why his telekinesis is acting up; this is supposed to be an exercise in mass telepathy. I don't think that 'psychic energy' is a thing -at least not with 'brain thing' telepathy- so there shouldn't be a 'power surge' from this…

Adam's head turns towards me in a slow and.. frankly disturbing way, his aura wavering and sparking. If he starts to monologue about how 'all will be one with me' then I'm pressing the button on my psyshock bomb.

**It's… Incredible. So many minds working in concert. So many viewpoints. Perspectives… Ways of thinking I've never considered before.**

"And the Coluans? Have you been able to free any?"

**Hm? Oh, no.**

"Do you..? Need more time? More… Telepaths, networked?"

The shield around Euphorix will be up for a few more days, but if he needs different styles of telepathy to attack the Computer Tyrants most effectively then keeping everyone here is perfectly manageable from a logistics viewpoint. The Computer Tyrants appear to have preferred living Coluans as region managers rather than robots, and as a result planned their calorie requirements around a somewhat active lifestyle. Keeping their vertical farms going and de-networking their robot workers has been simple enough.

**No, that won't be necessary. Removing the Coluans in the way you suggested wasn't remotely feasible.** Oh. **Fortunately I had more than enough telepathic processing power under my control to just erase the thought engrams of the Computer Tyrants directly.**

"Oh, they're… Gone?"

**I'd be surprised if someone like Vril Dox didn't put a backup of their program somewhere, but they're no longer running on the Coluan organic network.**

"And the Coluans?"

**Still networked. I've sent groups of the Martians to free the first few groups. The Coluans are aware of their situation and we've agreed to a phased release.**

"I'm sure that you've planned things properly. Is there a reason why you're glowing?"

**Huh?**

He looks himself over, suddenly a little more animated.

**Oh. That. I think it's to do with how the parts of my brain responsible for my telepathy and my telekinesis are connected to each other. When I put a lot of effort into something, it triggers a response in the surrounding areas. Give me a moment.**

He closes his eyes, breathes in deeply and then slowly breathes out, his aura fading as he does so. Eyes still closed he lowers himself to the ground, then opens them.

"That was an interesting experience."

"Worth leaving Tamaran for?"

"Of course. A new planet, a new challenge, a new opportunity to help people." He looks over to where the Martian experts are… Rubbing their heads and generally acting like they've just come out of a daze. "Good work, fellas."

**It was…** The Green member of the team appears to recover quickest. I suppose that when you mesh minds with thousands of people, not being a representative of a political class they hate makes it a little easier. **A unique experience.**

"Oh, I… Spoke to Hera."

Adam looks mildly curious. "That was quick."

"She's working as a television presenter in Greece. She's not that hard to get hold of."

"A television… And people don't notice that she's… Not human?"

"If you met a man named Michael, would your first response be to check him for wings?"

"No, I wouldn't, not unless there was something strange about him. She doesn't look..? Unusual? Godly?"

"She looks like a middle aged divorcee who's still got her looks. Gods can't bring their full power with them into the material world. If you want to see her full majesty you'll have to transcend the physical with magic."

"That didn't go too well for Semele."

"Death isn't guaranteed. You'd just need to work on your metaphysical strength first. Learning magic could be a new experience for you."

"It would be an interesting change of pace. So what did she say?"

"She's… More 'curious' than 'interested', but she takes relationships seriously. She said that if you pick a date then she'll pick a location-. Ah, do you actually have any Earth money?"

He chuckles to himself.

"I had a small bank account when I left, so between inflation and being declared legally dead, probably not. But I've got rare metals and alien technology, so I doubt covering the check will be a problem."

"Because I'm perfectly happy to pay you for this job."

"Kinda undermines the heroism, wouldn't you say?"

"Does it for the police and firefighters? Or soldiers?"

"No, but they operate within a system of socially determined rules. I did this because it interests-."

He takes a moment to look at the orange construct hearts rising from the top of my head, evaporating once they get a metre or so away. Being me, these constructs are anatomically-accurate hearts rather than cartoon ones, but Adam is an intelligent man.

"Me. What… Is that?"

"It's unusual, as a non-telepath, to hear my own thoughts coming from someone else's mouth." I dismiss them. "Have you considered trying out for an orange power ring?"

"Non-telepathic mind altering artefacts and telepathy don't mix well."

"Alright; I know someone who could help you monetise any raw materials or technology you bring back really easily, as well as giving you an overview on the state of technology on Earth. I'm sure he'd be able to find you projects that could hold your attention."

"Ah, look. I don't have any problem with homosexuals and I'm sure you're a great guy, but I'm not one."

Ah.

"Ah. Sorry, I was… Clearly being a bit too enthusiastic, there. I have a girlfriend, she's not Canadian." He frowns. "Right, you… Weren't on Earth for-. There's a long-running joke about single men claiming that they have girlfriends in Canada."

"Ah, okay. Why?"

"I don't know. But uplifting the Earth has been a major project of mine, and I'm very enthusiastic about getting you on board."

"I… Suppose that if I'm going to Earth anyway then there's no harm in meeting him."

"Excellent! Now let's go and thank everyone for their help."

 

[Mr Zoat]

14th September 2010
21:23 GMT -5

"How come you're not more pissed off about this?"

Artemis has been fuming since Max's brilliant virtual reality training simulator nearly killed us all. Which is a pretty reasonable thing to be angry about. But really.

"Because I saw it coming."

"What?! You knew-?!"

I shrug. "I've watched Star Trek. And X-Men. I knew perfectly well that a machine like that was going to try and kill anyone who used it."

We're perched on a loading crane on the Gotham docks, patiently waiting for a shipment of cocaine coming in from Columbia. Normally Batman would just pass this sort of information on to the police, but a new syndicate has been getting its hands on high-end plasma weapons and he told us that he's concerned that they wouldn't be able to handle it without massive collateral damage.

"That…" Her head tilts to the right, her eyes narrowing. "What?"

"Star Trek? You know, the science fiction series? With the holograms that keep going wrong and trying to kill the crew?"

She huffs, a little of the tension leaving her frame.

"Seriously? You saw it in some TV show and that's how you knew?"

"It's a reasonable frame of reference."

"And you didn't say anything? To the rest of us, to Batman, to that Lord guy?"

"What do you think I should have said, 'this machine will try and kill us, I saw it on TV'?" She appears to grudgingly accept that. "Besides, that was a good lesson, too."

Her mouth twitches, trying hard not to form a sneer. "How exactly was the Justice League nearly getting us all killed a good lesson?"

"It teaches us to rely on our own skills. That even the best intentioned have bad days and make idiotic decisions sometimes."

"I… Guess…"

"And -objectively speaking- losing us hurts the Earth less than losing League members."

"E-h."

"What? Do you think I'm wrong?"

"I just-. I knew League training would be hard. I just thought they'd be different to-. Ah, better planned." She glances at me to see if I caught that slip. As if anyone wouldn't have. "You know? Not try and kill us."

"If people trying to kill you bothers you, you're in the wrong line of work." No, this isn't a helpful line of discussion. Having her moderate her enthusiasm for the League is only useful up to a point, and I think I've got as far as I can without bringing down her mood too much and creating a negative association. "And speaking of work, I'm thinking of changing my costume. I'd like to know what you think."

She looks mildly unimpressed. "Is that supposed to be an excuse to take your clothes off?"

"No." I frown. "You've seen me switch into costume by ring before."

"Okay." She shrugs, leaning back against the control cabin. "Sure."

I smile. "Thank you."

I raise my left hand, orange light flares and-.

"What's-?" She spots it, and huffs. "Really?"

I grin. "What?"

She thrusts her right hand at my newly exposed midriff. "I thought you said it wasn't an excuse to get naked!?"

"Are you naked?"

She jerks her head away, folding her arms across her breasts. I take a moment to flex and undulate my abdominal muscles.

"And I'm mostly protected by the ring anyway. I've never liked the idea that female superheroes have to go around in skimpy costumes while the men are fully covered, so B'wana Beast and I are going to work towards true sexual equality, where men are not afraid of their own-."

"Okay! Great costume!" She throws up both hands in an exasperated gesture. "Now shut up and change back!"

Her eyes keep dipping uncontrollably to where my pale skin is outlined by the grey stab resistant material of my trousers and Flash Gordon-inspired halter top, pupils and facial capillaries... Yes, good.

"I don't know, I mean I wouldn't want you to feel-."

"If I agree to switch costume tomorrow, will you switch back right now?"

I make a show of considering it for a few moments, flexing my abdominals once more now that she's actually looking. "Oh, alright. If you insist."

Ah, full armour. Too hot for summer without the help of a power ring, but just the thing for the autumn.

"Great. Thanks."

She activates her night vision visor and checks the docks once more. I have a scan, but fail to detect anything of note. Of course, dealing with America's drug problem can't be done by just stopping the occasional shipment; where there is demand supply will follow. If Batman actually wanted us to achieve anything significant he'd send us to Columbia with some sort of bio-engineered super crop. Kill all the paramilitaries and give the farmers something profitable and low-risk to grow.

But I don't actually care about solving the problem, and… I don't have the resources that it would actually take. Turning a few people into constructs isn't going to give me the political control I'd need, I'm not a good enough covert killer to cover my tracks and-.

"What… Is this?"

I try following her line of sight.

"A.. discarded coil of chains..?"

"No. You." She turns back to me. "What you're doing. The flowers-"

Which she liked at first, much as she denied it. And then started finding creepy. Still working on reliably identifying the cut off.

"-and the… Stripping, and-."

"I thought you agreed it wasn't stripping if you were wearing the same-?"

"Fine, not… Stripping. Just-."

"I find you admirable and physically attractive and want to date you. I.. don't.. see what's so hard to understand."

"'Admirable'."

"Sure. I didn't do anything of note with my life until someone dropped a power ring in my lap. And even then, I stuck with other superheroes and mostly did what I was told. You decided to go out there with a bow and arrow on your own recognisance. I admire that 'go get'em' attitude."

She takes a deep breath.

"If I agree to go on a date with you, will you knock if off for a week?"

"Will this date happen within that week?"

"No. The date's what you get if you make it to the end of the week."

"Agreed." I extend my right hand. "Honoured team mate in whom I have no carnal interest at all."

She takes it, shakes it and then goes back to watching the coast. Hm. She's agreed in principle and now she's just arguing over the price. But that's perfectly fine. Now that I don't have to worry about… Anything, getting what I want is just a matter of patience and planning.

 

[Mr Zoat]

Back Door

6th July 2012
22:12 GMT +2

Mr. B'lanx looks out across the Bir Tawil desert.

"It does look a little like the surface of Mars. Though it feels a lot hotter."

"Is it a problem for you?"

His outline shifts as he assumes a humanoid shape and… Darkens his skin.

"No. Becoming a Black Martian makes-" I wince inwardly. "-this a good deal more comfortable."

"I thought the reason you didn't just go Green or Red was that other Martians could always tell."

"Ways of thinking… Parts of our core psychological identity, are transferred in the womb. But if we're changed enough by our experiences that we think in ways unlike the Whites back home… Why not become something else?"

"White pride?"

"You proved that there's no real difference between the colours. If that's true, why should I take pride in result of a coin toss?"

…

I need to get this guy off Earth, don't I?

"What did you think about Colu?"

"So much refined metal. I'd never seen so much in any one place before. And the animals were so… Tame. Constricted. On Mars the minds of the animals inside the rock are a constant presence wherever you go. In the one city I've ever lived in, anyway."

Yes, a bit of a shame about Colu's entire biosphere. Nothing was ever allowed to go entirely extinct, but the planet has absolutely no 'unregulated' wildlife. No forests or jungles outside of parks where everything is monitored and controlled. The Computer Tyrants were in the process of shutting a lot of them down, but the biological Coluans appear to like them.

"Do you miss them?"

"When you're working long shifts and banned from most public places of entertainment, you learn to make your own fun. Taming animals, training them… It was a fairly common pastime."

He gazes off towards the horizon for a few moments.

"Why are there no humans here?"

"The two neighbouring countries can't agree on who owns it. This is the part they both say that the other owns. Then Orange Lantern Manga Khan decided to build this trade post. We locked it down after he left and L.E.G.I.O.N. have been using it as an outpost. In the event of things working out differently on Mars I was planning on offering it to you."

"That doesn't explain why this area is so empty."

"Too hot, too dry, not enough natural resources. And no one wanted to pick a fight with me to break in during the gap between Khan leaving and L.E.G.I.O.N. arriving."

"Ah."

"So… As I said, you and your people are free to wander in the countries immediately abutting this territory, though you'll be expected to comply with local law. The L.E.G.I.O.N. fleet will be pulling out in a few weeks and your people will be able to travel with them then."

The Earth is… Recovering, from the Sheeda. We've regained satellite coverage and have a full accounting of the dead. More or less. I… Remember an age-of-sail style science fiction story where after a major civil war ravaged human space the most powerful worlds left were places that had been minor colonies when the war happened. That was because everywhere larger was smashed flat by mass drivers and then chain nuked just to make sure. The only places that weren't were the places no one could be bothered to attack.

Something not entirely unlike that is happening here, only it's the middle that was eliminated. Up and coming powers like Brazil-. Accalacan now, obviously, and India, were smashed. Large chunks of the population vanished, large pieces of infrastructure destroyed and government officials killed. India's.. actually undergoing an effective breakdown in central government, with minority Muslim and Sikh groups… Not pressing for independence so much as assuming it.

The top tier nations that could defend their populations somewhat effectively were least affected physically but were so dependent financially on global systems that aren't working now that they're having to engage in major… 'Restructuring'. Confidence in money is at an eighty year low, barter has re-emerged in a lot of places and unemployment has spiked.

The only real beneficiaries -other than the native tribes of South America, because even places outside of Accalacan are having to change their policies on that issue- are European farmers, who have found demand increasing both due to the difficulty in continuing imports and a new wave of government self-sufficiency initiatives. And even there, a lot of places have switched from tractors to horses due to the higher fuel costs, because the Sheeda were happy to target both oil wells and oil tankers.

Thank goodness for Atlantis. Otherwise I'd find myself using the phrase 'oceanic apocalypse' to describe what happened to our fish stocks.

"How do most humans feel about Martians?"

"About the same as how you feel about the Ungarans."

"The who?" … "Oh. But J'onn J'onzz has been on Earth for years?"

"Yes, but humans aren't usually telepathic. Only a very small percentage of our population has met him, and he usually adopts a human shape so they wouldn't necessarily know that they had."

"You don't have recording devices?"

"Yes, but picture and sound recordings are less immediate than telepathic records of sensory inputs. It's not as… Real. We have a lot of strange people flying around; one saying that he comes from Mars doesn't mean anything special."

"What about J'onn J'aarkn? Or M'gann M'orzz?"

"Mister J'aarkn was known to be an actor, and most people assume the rest is a special effect. M'gann hasn't been here all that long. And they both came here individually with great difficulty. A few thousand people all at once are a rather different prospect."

"Are they afraid of us?"

"No, it's not that. Imagine… You lived in an all White neighbourhood?"

"Yes."

"Now imagine if Prince J'emm walked down your street. He doesn't believe in Neapolitanism, but he looks a lot like the people who do and he could get you in a lot of trouble if he wanted to."

"Ah. I see."

"If you go for a walk, you'll be the first Martian virtually anyone you meet will have met. So make an effort to make a good impression."

"I will. And I think I will go for a flight now." He rises off the platform. "I'm not used to such freedom, and I doubt that I will have it as part of L.E.G.I.O.N."

"Probably not." I wave as he pulls away. "Have fun!"

"Is this how your days are usually spent?"

I look around as Lantern Gozzi approaches from the base's interior.

"Roughly. It's a very varied job. Are you staying on, or…" I hold out my right hand in a catching gesture. "Are you heading back to Amalak?"

"Do you have any plans to fight Vril Dox?"

"I don't. I would be astonished if Vril Dox the Second didn't. Why?"

"Part of why I stayed in Vega was to avoid him and his minions. If he were killed, I would have considerably more latitude in my movements."

"True. So do you want to head out with the fleet and find out what our Dox is planning before making a final decision?"

"Yes." She holds up her ring and stares at it for a moment. "I do."

 

[Mr Zoat]

Earth 534834

15th October 1992
08:59 GMT +8

"Yeah."

I flex my newly-reconstructed left shoulder as I take a moment to look around the blasted remains of the Mandarin's fortress.

"That… Yeah."

I don't really pay attention as I remove my ersatz personal lantern from subspace and tap the ring against it for the charge all of the charge mine minemine-!

I drop the lantern, the steel knocking a chip out of the stone as it clatters to the floor.

Too much. Much too much.

I drop to the floor, my environmental shield fritzing as fear overwhelms desire.

This isn't working.

I've been umming and ahing about whether getting training was a good idea. I know… That in the comics, Hal Jordan got training from Sinestro and Kilowog ended up as the go-to training instructor… But when I used the ring, it all seemed so instinctive that I thought… Okay, don't rush into anything stupid, but I wasn't sure that I needed actual training. Creating constructs wasn't a problem, flying wasn't a problem, and once I tracked down a lump of rock the ring told me it could use to recharge I thought it would be best to work on my own.

Then it was just a matter of picking a target.

Not something political. Not Genosha, which is keeping up appearances on the international stage at the moment. Magneto is apparently keeping his head down as well, which didn't leave that many international fugitives. Then I read an article on a painfully slow loading nineties internet page about Tony Stark's kidnapping, and the various internationally wanted criminals clustering around the man who captured him.

Perfect. How hard could it be to find a green-skinned man with a goatee?

Not hard, not hard at all. But the basic idea of sniping him in the head… It turns out that fighting veteran supervillains is a good deal harder than I'd assumed. And my own lack of.. control…

I walk over to where the Mandarin disappeared in mid air, along with several of his henchmen. A small amount of blood…

Huh. I didn't think I got through his defences, but…

I crouch down and-. I generate a construct hand and use it to pick up a neatly-severed green finger, ring still attached.

I should probably scan that and see if I can find out how to operate it, but I think I'm a little too overwrought at the moment to want to do something that difficult. I'll just stick it in a pouch for now.

Right. Training. I've got no idea what S.H.I.E.L.D. is like in this continuity and… I don't feel like going through an actual boot camp and then… Taking orders, killing people I don't have anything against or any of the other things that comes with being in the military. And that only leaves one obvious choice.

14th October 1992
19:12 GMT -5

"Heeello?"

I frown as I hold the construct phone to my right ear. I don't recognise the voice, but there were a lot of X-Men in the comics and I only know a tiny fraction.

"Is this the Xavier Institute?"

"I sure hope it is, because if it isn't, then I've broken into some rich guy's house."

"If the door was open then it's probably just 'trespass'. Um. I'd like to talk to someone about taking classes?"

"Oh? Ah, okay, sure. Let me just go find the Professor."

"Thank y-" There's a quiet thud as he puts the phone down on something. "-ou."

Right. Nineties. Phone handsets with wires. Hover wheelchairs… But phones with wires. I mean, we could probably have built… Some sort of ionic wind wheelchair in my home parallel's nineties, if you didn't mind powering it with overhead rails like a bumper car. Or a mini-hovercraft if you didn't mind the noise. But I've got no idea how Professor Xavier managed it.

"Good evening. I'm Professor Charles Xavier. Morph tells me that you're interested in receiving instruction."

"Yes. Ah, I… Thought that my control was pretty good, but…"

"You shouldn't worry. Many mutants whose powers have recently activated have difficulty in exercising precise control, particularly under stressful circumstances. May I ask how old you are?"

"Twenty nine."

"I see. And how long have you had your powers?"

"About a month. I've got the basic.. use.. down, but as you said, under stressful conditions I get a bit erratic. And since I fully intend to get into stressful situations, I think it's probably a good idea if I get training from someone who knows what they're doing rather than risk things getting out of hand."

"That's very wise. But a month ago? Most mutant powers activate in adolescence. Are you certain that you didn't manifest your abilities earlier, perhaps at a weaker level?"

Right. Ah, yes. I should probably.. be clear now. I'm not sure how he would respond to the idea of teaching someone who isn't a mutant. I remember that in the comics he was happy to take in Machine Man but I.. think I remember something about him rejecting Power Pack due to not being mutants.

"I don't actually have an x-gene."

"I'm.. sorry, I'm not sure that I follow."

"While there are a lot of people who get unusual abilities from an x-gene, there are plenty of people who have unusual abilities who get them from somewhere else. The obvious historical example being Steven Rogers, whose enhanced strength and endurance came from an injection."

"Well… Yes, I understand that unusual abilities can come from a variety of sources. But I'm afraid that my specialty is genetics and, specifically, the x-gene."

"I understand that. But really, what's the difference? How would you help a mutant with control issues?"

"I would.. study how their ability functioned…" I hear a quiet but amused exhalation. "Yes, I understand your point. I would have to at least start in the same place with anyone who manifested unusual abilities, and identifying for certain whether a person with special abilities had the x-gene or not would take months. But I do want you to understand that some issues experienced by mutants aren't comparable to people whose abilities come from other sources."

"Of course, you're the expert. When can I start?"

"Since you're an adult, there's no need to restrict you to the normal school calendar. And if you're having control issues it's probably best to start you sooner rather than later." I find myself nodding. "Are you still in England?"

"No, no. And I can afford to remain on-site full time. I'm available whenever you have an opening."

"How soon can you get here?"

"About eight seconds?"

"Ah. I should have asked-. No, perhaps it's better that you show me your abilities without having your preconceptions cloud my observations."

"That.. sounds sensible."

"We have a room available now. If you arrive this evening we can begin work tomorrow."

"Thank you, Professor. I'll see you-"

Move.

I appear in front of the mansion in a flash of orange, right arm raised to wave to Professor Xavier through his office window.

"-now."

 

[Mr Zoat]

Earth 534834

14th October 1992
20:27 GMT -5

Professor Xavier regards my cube construct curiously.

"Hmm."

He reaches out with his right hand and presses against it. The surface remains solid and the cube doesn't move. He exerts a little more force, testing its stability.

"How resilient are they?"

"As resilient as I want them to be. Which is the problem."

He withdraws his hand. "How so?"

"How strongly could you want an abstract three dimensional object of no particular value to exist?"

"I see. So you have to focus on that desire. And if you don't..?"

"It becomes very weak. Or fades away entirely. Fading away is also what happens if I feel anything other than avarice."

I nod at the increasingly translucent cube.

"See? Try again."

He gives it a shove, and after a moment's resistance the side he's pushing on gives way and his forearm pushes through to the middle of the cube, which then continues to decay around him. A moment later the orange light of the construct has faded away completely.

"Hm. And what else can you do with it?"

"I can fly. Just a.. matter of putting a barrier around my body and moving it. Armour-" I hold up my right hand as a construct gauntlet forms around it. "-is simple, because I don't want to get hurt. And when I want to hurt someone, a simple orange ray is easy enough to create. But control is still an issue."

He nods. "Yes, that's a problem with which I'm intimately familiar. If you want to do something it happens, without waiting for an actual decision about whether or not it's the right course of action."

"The inverse is true as well. For example-" I raise my left hand and fire a beam at him. He jerks in surprise, then relaxes as the barely visible beam patters lightly across his jacket. "-if I don't want to hurt someone, not a lot happens."

"Compared to some forms of energy projection, that's a useful safety measure."

"But it doesn't just apply to offensive constructs. If I'd like to.. rescue someone who I don't want to rescue, nothing happens."

"Are you speaking from experience?"

"Blacklash survived the fall, but when I tried to grab him I honestly believed that he wouldn't. An intellectual 'I'd rather he didn't die' isn't enough."

"How strong are your constructs when you are committed to something?"

"Nothing I've tested them against -including the Mandarin's ring blasts- has penetrated my defensive constructs. He was able to bypass them, but not directly breach them. Same with M.O.D.O.K.'s plasma guns and missiles."

He raises his eyebrows slightly.

"You've been keeping interesting company."

"I thought that testing my attacks in an isolated location on people listed as 'Wanted: Dead' was more sensible than trying them in a built up area with a civilian population. Since I.. had the option."

"It would have been more sensible to come here at the start."

I nod. "Yes. But given how intuitive the ring's functions are, I wasn't sure it was necessary. But it-. But it is. Clearly."

"Well, we have training facilities which you can use to improve your combat abilities. I'm sure that some of my other students will be happy to volunteer as sparring partners. Jean Grey is probably the best person to offer you help with the psychological aspects."

I nod.

"Thank you. Ah, obvious… I'd.. have thought it would go without saying, since I.. came here, but obviously I.. support mutant civil rights-"

He nods with a wry smile.

"-and I'm happy to assist your team in the field whenever you think that's appropriate. If you think it doesn't dilute the message to have someone who isn't a mutant along."

"My aim has always been to enable mutants and humans to live together in peace-."

"And, ah, you don't think phrasing it like that is a problem in itself? I mean, it sounds like you're defining mutants as something non-human, when… Actually, you're more similar to baseline modern humans than Neanderthals. Just… One signature gene that the rest of us don't have. That's less than.. blonde hair."

He frowns thoughtfully. "That's an interesting observation, though I think that given the range of physical-."

"Professor? Weren't sure-" Someone pushes his office door open. "-if you were gunna-" A woman-. That's Rogue, wearing a blue summer dress with matching opera gloves, walks in carrying a tray with a covered bowl and some cutlery on it. "-come on back down, so Jean…"

She stops as she registers me, and I stand because… That seems like the thing to do. It's funny; I've long thought that superhero code names were a bit.. silly, in a lot of cases. Supervillain ones even worse, when their identities were known. But since I got here I've kept running into people where I've got no idea what their actual name is. Case in point: I've got no idea what Rogue's actual name is, and she wasn't exactly a minor character.

"Good evening. And… Sorry, Professor. I.. didn't realise I was interrupting."

"That's quite alright. Thank you, Rogue, please put it on my desk. Orange Lantern will be joining us at the Institute."

"Well howdy. See you've already got the hang of the dress code." She smiles warmly at me. "Dinner's usually dress down."

Change.

A flash of orange and my armour is replaced by jeans and a jumper.

"I will bear that in mind." I extend my right hand. "Pleased to meet you."

She sets the tray down on the Professor's desk and then approaches me, carefully taking my hand and shaking it. This version must have acquired Ms Marvel's strength, then. That will be interesting to test my construct shields against.

"So what's your story, sugah?"

"My.. control needs work. Under stress I don't necessarily get the results I want."

"And what's your thang?"

"I can do anything I want, as long as it's orange and doesn't take more than about fifteen minutes." I hold out my right hand, manifesting a sword and then switching it to a gun and then… Something that isn't a weapon… A bouquet of flowers. And dismiss. "You?"

Her good humour rather vanishes. "When ah… Touch people, I kinda drain them. Their life, their strength."

"Ah." I nod sympathetically. "Well. Good news, then."

My right hand darts out and taps her on the left cheek.

Her eyes widen and she pulls back in the air!

"You crazy goose-brained-!"

I shrug, holding my right hand up so that I'm looking at her over the back of it.

"I don't touch things. See the orange glow?"

She hovers in the air, her panting breaths slowing as she takes a very careful look at my barely-visible environmental shield.

"It relays tactile sensation from me to you and you to me, but we didn't actually touch." I shrug. "You didn't drain me and.. probably won't from casual contact."

She lands, then nervously takes a step closer.

"Are you fer real?"

"I'm as real as everything else."

Her eyes flick from me to the Professor. Then she slowly pulls off her right glove and extends her hand to me. I gently take it in both of mine and hold it for a few moments.

"See? No problem."

"Ah, yeah. Ah'm seein', alright."

 

[Mr Zoat]

8th July 2012
12:14 GMT -5

Kon looks at the quietly hyperventilating M'gann with concern.

"Are..? You okay?"

"Yes! Why wouldn't I be? I'm just about to be the first White Martian to ever join the Manhunters."

Wallace frowns. "I thought you were.. kind of a Manhunter anyway."

M'gann just about gets her breathing under control now that she has something to distract her. "No, I was-. I am an auxiliary trainee. That's not the same thing."

Kon nods. "So if we went back to Mars, those guys wouldn't hassle you when you land the ship?"

"They-." M'gann looks at me for a moment, then returns her attention to him. "Probably not. What Paul.. did… Is going to change everything about the way Martian society works." … "Again."

"If it was fixed, I wouldn't have needed to break it."

Kon glance my way. "You know, Mom says more Amazons are starting to worship Eris because of you?"

"I didn't know that she says that, but it doesn't surprise me that it's happening. Anything I can do to help with the preparation for your investiture?"

M'gann shakes her head. "No, no, it's not complicated. I just stand there, talk to Commander K'arr and Prince J'emm for a few moments and then I'm a Manhunter."

Kaldur nods. "So the significance is in the symbolism."

"Mostly. I don't-. Talk to Red Martians a lot."

"Hey." Kon walks up to her and lays his hands on her shoulders. "Last year you fought a Martian who was made of fire. You can handle talking to one who's red."

"If it would help, you could turn yourself Red and we could throw things at you."

Her eyes widen in shock. "I can't turn myself Red! That would-!"

"From what Hkronmar said, it sounded like Karmang wouldn't have had a problem with it."

"Well-. He's-. Not-. Modern."

Kaldur nods. "The closest equivalent in Atlantean society to Karmang the Good is Ahri'ahn, the great sorcerer who designed the spells which allows Atlanteans to live in the ocean. He is generally referred to as the founder of our magic traditions."

M'gann frowns. "Do Purists say he's the reason why Atlanteans with fish body parts should be discriminated against?"

"No. Ahri'ahn's legacy is one of rationalism. Purism in the modern context is more a product of the concentration of 'pure' Atlanteans around centres of power than any ancient teaching."

"Venturia doesn't have a Purist movement. Their eelfolk have never suffered any level of discrimination."

"But citizens of other cities could only visit Venturia with an escort."

M'gann looks from Kaldur to me.

"Please don't start."

"Sorry." / "I apologise."

Wallace looks puzzled. "I thought J'emm was the guy who was trying to end racism in his city anyway. Why is meeting him scary?"

"Well… He wasn't so much ending discrimination as he was ending legal acceptance of some demonstrations of it. Like I said, I couldn't be a Manhunter until now. And… Well, how would you feel if the head of the FDA wanted to talk to you about your healing potions?"

"Ah… Relieved that someone was finally listening to us about them?" M'gann flatly stares at him. "Okay, yeah, I'd be kinda nervous, but not this nervous."

"The head of the FDA isn't also a church elder who never meets people from your neighbourhood."

"My church doesn't have elders, but.. okay." Wallace shrugs. "I don't think I have an equivalent. But it's only gunna be a couple of minutes and even if it goes badly, you're still on the team. Not that it will."

"Thanks, Wally." She checks the kitchen clock. "I'm sure that Prelate J'emm is a perfectly nice person, and that I'm worrying for nothing. But I'm worrying anyway."

Wallace frowns. "What exactly does Manhunter do for the Martian government?"

"Well, he mostly keeps an eye on Earth."

"Sensible."

"He sends reports back to Mars on Earth government, space exploration, anything that could affect Mars really. And he tries to get people on Mars interested in coming here. And that… Hasn't really worked."

Kon smirks. "J'aarkn seemed to like it."

"That wasn't really what he was going for."

"Are the thousands of Martians here now a success?"

"They all come from a city that didn't allow them access to Uncle J'onn's reports, so, no."

"They'd seen Mister J'aarkn's reports."

She rolls her eyes. "Martians and humans are quite a lot like each other in some ways. Did you..? Talk to him?"

"No, I haven't seen him since he left Earth. Though given how many Martians have viewed his memories I suspect that he's doing fine."

"W-wait." Wallace looks a little concerned. "That.. Martian adult film guy? That's how Martians-? I mean, that's their point of reference for Earth?"

I chuckle. "Yes, the planet of shapeshifting telepaths think that we're the kinky ones."

"Yeah, but… That's all they know about Earth culture. And Manhunter's more of a military attaché than a cultural one."

"I'll ask Mister B'lanx to put something together."

M'gann checks the clock again.

"Okay. I'm going to go." She stretches up to kiss Kon, then steps away and heads towards the hangar. "Wish me luck."

"Good luck!"

We watch her go, then Wallace turns to me.

"Hey Oh El, are you sticking around-?" My ring blinks. "I guess not."

"We are in a rather large war. Answer."

Dox's head appears.

"They're counter attacking. Return at once."

"Alright, I'll-." He vanishes. "I'll be with you shortly."

 

[Mr Zoat]

8th July 2012
17:19 GMT

"You rang, sir?"

Even really big space ships don't actually look all that impressive. In space, scales are wonky. The near-infinite blackness is so incredibly vast that any finite space within it cowers into insignificance. Dox's command ship isn't huge as spacecraft go. It's certainly far smaller than the Absolute Dominion; a battleship rather than a dreadnought. But unless you've got some pressing reason to have a power generation system that big, dreadnoughts generally aren't good value for money. Grayven does, Dox doesn't.

On the other hand, it's not exactly small. Far bigger than any Earth-built ocean vessel, and quite a bit more comfortable to live in. Among more primitive species it's generally considered a good thing to keep the mass down for easier acceleration, but once a species has artificial gravity they've generally got the ability to futz around with mass in such a way that it's a non-issue.

I suppose if we had a pressing reason to go really big we could just get Lantern Ranx to detach his recent additions and use him.

"Yes. Come aboard at once. I'll brief you myself."

"Do you have the shields working yet, or can I teleport?"

"Teleportation is acceptable."

It's a bit of a two-edged sword in our situation. Me popping up when he doesn't expect it undermines him, but me demonstrating the ability to do something that our enemies can't stop buoys up our side's confidence. The subtle implication that all of our Lanterns can learn to do what I can. And that's technically true. But… I don't know, maybe I need to select an acolyte for dedicated one to one tuition, because as far as I can tell none of our Lanterns has made any real progress in my direction.

I step out

and reappear inside Dox's ready room. Dox himself doesn't look up, continuing to scroll through reports so quickly that the writing is a blur to me even with my ring's translation feature. Brand might have been able to persuade him not to overload himself, but Dox can still safely take in information far more rapidly than just about anyone else. A moment later my view of the text stabilises, but is reduced to a baby-talk summary as my ring tries to compress the information while still keeping the outline.

I mentally tell it not to bother as I wait for Dox to acknowledge me.

"Colu."

"Liberated. Computer Tyrants erased, and control of the planet temporarily in the hands of the Green Lantern Corps pending transition back to Coluan control."

"The same people who allowed my father to take power in the first place."

"There's a rather short list of people who could stop your father, and the former Coluan government didn't contain any of them."

"If they can't do the job then they should just clone me again and put the clone in charge."

"Alas, people in positions of authority are seldom comfortable with confronting their limitations. Would you like to address them yourself?"

"No. They wouldn't respond well to my involvement. If we need their help in researching something you can just transport samples to them."

"Do you..? Have a problem with my recruitment of Lantern Gozzi?"

"No, why would I-?" His eyes flick up and the data flow stops. "You weren't planning on trying to.. set us.. up in a social-?"

"No. I wasn't. Though now you mention it, the research I've seen suggests that it's easier to learn certain types of social interaction from members of one's own species. If you're interested in achieving some sort of rapprochement with Colu, she's not a terrible place to start."

"Fortunately I'm not. The Martians?"

"At Manga Khan's base until the fleet returns. I can bring them here faster if we can spare the wizards to ward the ships..?"

"No. It would be useful, but it's more important to keep them working on the fleet here."

"What exactly have the Reach been up to?"

"Everything we expected." Without looking he presses a button and calls up some holographic images. "We've screened all of the major industrial worlds in our alliance for their brute force mind control efforts: chemical, telepathic and mechanical. Countering their more subtle social engineering efforts is more difficult. We've had anti-war demonstrations in a number of places, the slogans calling for everything from isolationism to peaceful engagement with the Reach. And other things besides."

"There will always be some idiots. Are we sure they're not largely home-grown? A war this big is something a government really needs to prepare people for."

"We have to deal with the allies we have as we have them."

"Are you working up to asking me to alter their desires?"

"Not at.. this stage. Local dissent can be dealt with by local authorities. I want you to check that they aren't being encouraged directly by the Reach."

I nod. "If they are?"

"We are at war with the Reach, and any Reach-associated individual in the territory controlled by a L.E.G.I.O.N. affiliate or other ally can be legally detained with no other justification. Or killed out of hand."

"Do you want them removed quietly or loudly?"

"Use your judgement. Whatever makes the largest impact." I nod. "We've also started seeing the expected increase in attacks by deniable assets, coupled with offers of Reach 'aid'."

I frown. "Everyone should have upgraded their defensive capacities past the point where that was an issue."

"Our partners have. The people on the outer edge of the periphery zone have not."

That's the problem with space. It's so gosh darn porous. We can put in place interdiction systems covering every system allied to us, but that still leaves over 99% of the zone that the Reach can fly things through without any difficulty. Even in their own territory the Reach can't stop much more than we can, that's how Darkstar teams insert themselves. In theory we could track outgoing ships and follow them to their destination, but we don't have unlimited ships and the Reach are very good at being sneaky.

Still, it's a lot of space for the Reach, too. And the governments of civilisations advanced enough to actually help the Reach aren't stupid; if a lot of the people exposed to the Reach suddenly change their behaviours most of them will notice that something is off.

"You've assigned other Lanterns to this?"

"Yes, but most Lanterns don't have your particular skills related to psychological analysis. We aren't responsible for everything our allies do. If their neighbours are picking fights on their own initiative due to local disputes, that's far less of a concern for us. If that happens, negotiate a treaty and make it clear that you will involve yourself if it is breached."

I nod. Coming in too strongly to protect member worlds will give them the idea that they can do what they like, which certainly isn't the case. It will also alienate other worlds and encourage them to look favourably on any Reach petitions they receive. On the other hand, we do need to be able to demonstrate that we'll have our allies' backs while the majority of their forces are fighting the Reach. And while their economies are dedicated to war-fighting.

Dox flicks an orange pulse to my ring.

"There's a list of known problem areas. Go where you need to and do what you need to. Dismissed."

 

[Mr Zoat]

8th July 2012
22:33 GMT +3

"…that I saw you talking to at lunch?"

Lex and I walk through the corridors of LexCorp's Kenya headquarters, heading towards a boardroom. With the threat of the Sheeda thoroughly eliminated we're converting the Earth Defence Force facilities here into an actual planetary strongpoint, rather than the 'kick me' sign it was before. That involves huge energy shield emplacements and rebuilding everything to far higher standards of resilience.

Lex visibly braces himself for the oncoming 'Grayven tiresomeness'.

"Her name is Veronica Cale. Her company is responsible for the EDF's health monitors and immunisation programs."

Armoured buildings… Obviously aren't going to survive against a dedicated bombardment platform, but that's not what they're for. They're for taking hits from attack craft, or hopeful shots from non-dedicated ships, or for soaking the backlash from our own overloading shield emitters. And of course they create a wonderful feeling of safety in the people taking shelter within them, so that if they do come under dedicated attack they don't spend their last few minutes cowering in fear.

"Lex, you were smiling."

We did talk about a full planetary defence shield like the one Euphorix has, but not only does something like that prevent you seeing out -so you can't know whether the attacker is still there or not- but it requires base stations all over the planet. We could… Just about do it by hiding them in LexCorp regional headquarters, but the risk of exposure was too great.

"She's a charming and.. extremely driven woman. She reminds me a great deal of myself."

I smile. "Admiration."

"Yes, I suppose you could put it like that."

"No, No, I mean… The Devil's Dictionary? 'Admiration. Noun. Our polite recognition of another's resemblance to ourselves.'" I glance his way as the door to the lounge opens itself. "Let me guess: grew up in a poor neighbourhood-."

"Yes, there is a.. degree of resemblance. But she appears to have avoided making some of my more… Short term decisions."

"Good to know. Sounds like she'll be an-." Lex walks through the doorway, and since this place was built with my frame in mind -mine and the larger suits of power armour, anyway- I can follow.. him… Through.

I look at the other Lex Luthor sitting on the seat facing the doorway. Then I scan both the newcomer and mine.

And then I grin.

"Lex! It's not my birthday!"

The other Lex -who had been doing his version of Lex's 'calm, confident and in control' look- shudders very slightly, which lets me scan through whatever he was using to block me. Hm.

"Not that I'm complaining-."

My Lex decides to ignore me, walking forward confidently as our Mercy -quick check, yes, she's ours- makes sure that her hands are free.

"Who are you, and why are you here?"

"The 'who' should be obvious-."

Hm. "Heart's on the left not the right. DNA's a close match, so I'm guessing you're an equivalent and not a literal doppelgänger."

I traverse the room, keeping my eyes on the intruder and making sure that my Lex is out of my line of fire and calling in a cross-section of drones.

My Lex nods. "I'm told that most of my alter egos aren't… The most rational people."

The other Lex nods. "Sadly, that's been my experience. Imagine my… Concern, when I found out that you were building a space fleet, and were working in alliance with an Apokoliptian."

I nod. "Yes, that does sound pretty dodgy." I widen my eyes, my grin broadening. "Wait. Are you from some sort of transplanar 'Council of Lex'? And am I going to have to shoot that woman in the stealth suit who thinks I can't see her?"

The Other Lex's face tenses very slightly as a drone shines its Ray of Revelation -thank you Sunset- at his surprised backup.

"No, you're.. not."

Ah, there it is. An environmental shield. Yellow… No, gold in colour. Same base technology, but… Not standard? Sinestro?

The closest things I know of are the Anti-Green Lantern rings briefly used by the Weaponers of Qward. That line of research was discontinued in my own universe. Things may have been different wherever he's from.

My Lex glances at his alternate's backup, shrugs, then walks forward to sit down opposite him.

"What do you want?"

"To find out what you're planning."

My Lex waves his right hand. "I think I've been fairly open with what I'm planning."

The woman in the stealth suit… I can scan her now, but I don't recognise her. She makes her way around to behind the chair her Lex is sitting in. For my own amusement I move to mirror her position behind-. I try to mirror her position, but Mercy is already occupying it. Looks like looming in the background is it, then.

"I doubt that you'd trust anything I was open about any more than I'm inclined to trust what you're open about. I know about the fleet you're building up on the far side of the moon."

Ping.

Ah.

"And I've just spotted your ship. Isn't it nice that we can all see each other."

I continue grinning, but I'm nervous. A ship snuck into my system and I didn't find it until after it got into a bombardment position. Alright, if he had access to Qwardian technology that's not outright embarrassing, but we need to do better. I think we'll have to bring up the system-wide sensor network thing with the Security Council, even if we have to share the results. Or just do it anyway and take the hit to our relations if they ever find out.

My Lex holds up his right hand. "Perhaps a less… Adversarial tone could be more helpful. I have publically announced that I'm undertaking the construction of a self-defense fleet. While I have taken steps to ensure that various governments believe that the total number I have under construction is far less than the actual number, their purpose hasn't changed."

"Let's just say that when most versions of us lay their hands on a fleet of warships, they tend to take regrettable actions with them."

"And.. a year ago you may have been correct about me as well. But I've made enough progress, and… Frankly, gained enough personal renown, that the failures of the world's governments don't grate in quite the way it might once have done."

I nod. "And, you know, once you own all the media companies, they throw in the governments for free."

My Lex shakes his head. "If that were true then I'd have bought out my rivals years ago. It would be more accurate to say that they're a loyalty bonus that grows each decade. But if we may leave such cynicism aside..?"

I shrug, and he returns his focus to his alter ego.

"Since you already know that the fleet exists, why not take a formal tour? You can talk to my employees, contractors and other affiliates and find out why they're working with me. A good many of them have no particular love for me personally, but they're doing it because they believe that it's necessary for the good of the species. Or to further their own ends."

Other Lex nods slowly.

"That would help to reassure me."

"But I doubt that you came all the way from a parallel universe just to check up on me. What is it that you want?"

"You've had contact with parallel universes. I'm… Having difficulty in returning to my point of origin."

My Lex nods. "I'll be happy to provide you with whatever assistance I can. Would you like to take a tour now?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

8th July 2012
22:32 GMT

"What people do is what they do. What people say they'll do isn't what they do."

Lantern Gozzi looks around at the space-age city we're flying through, noting the stares we're attracting.

"That's a tautology."

"I'm building up to an important lesson in your education as an Orange Lantern. Please hold your questions until the end." She glances my way but doesn't otherwise comment. "The goals people follow are their goals. The goals they say they have aren't their goals."

I pause, and she nods.

"A fairly disturbing example of that last one was the actions of Nazi Germany towards the end of Earth's Second World War. Rather than put all of their effort into fighting their enemies, they instead stepped up the extermination campaigns they were conducting against minority groups in their own territory. They diverted more effort towards something that was a net drain on their economy, rather than put it into fighting."

"There are other examples: people who say they want peace, compromise and coexistence but when pushed will admit to only wanting those things on their terms. So what they actually want is victory, supremacy and dominion but they don't say that because they've been taught that the other things are good and that those they actually want aren't. You can make people pull some quite amusing faces if you bring them to awareness of their own cognitive dissonance on some issues."

"As an Orange Lantern, this is something you must be aware of in yourself. An Orange Lantern's ability to use their ring is dependent on understanding and working towards the realisation of your desires. And since as a Coluan I imagine that you're going to want to use more sophisticated constructs than the rest of us, that's doubly true for you. You'd be surprised how many Orange Lanterns get stuck on the first step and are remarkably weak until they actually get into combat and start being driven by a need to preserve their own lives."

"I will try to avoid that."

"Ego's another problem. One of my core functions in the Corps is to advise Lanterns on how to overcome their psychological limitations. And yet, only a few people have actually come to me for advice. Most of the time I've had to actually go to people myself, which… Rather undermines the whole process."

"But getting back to my original point: if the stand we're taking against the Reach is a righteous and noble struggle because they exterminate conquered people, we ourselves cannot exterminate people we conquer. If the stand we're taking against the Reach is a righteous and noble struggle because we don't mind control people, we ourselves cannot mind control people. Ah, outside of combat, anyway. And if the stand we're taking against the Reach is a righteous and noble struggle because we value individual freedom, liberty, and the right of people to be involved in their own governance… We can't just go around quashing protests because they're inconvenient."

…

"May I now-?"

"Yes."

"You appear to be entirely rejecting the idea that anything other than complete honesty is useful."

"More or less."

"That runs contrary to my experiences. In many situations, Amalak told people that he wanted one thing when he actually wanted another in order to gain an advantage in negotiations."

"Was his most powerful weapon an orange power ring, whose output was dependent on the extent to which it enabled him to realise his desires?"

"We prefer positron beams for anti-ship work."

"Are you telling me that if I offered to trade Amalak rings for ships on a one-for-one basis-?"

"He would refuse, as he could not control other power ring wielders in the way he can control people who use the ships he owns."

"And where would I be, if I'd done the same thing?"

"You.. would not be the Illustres of an Orange Lantern Corps."

"Just so."

We near the target address and I descend to street level, Lantern Gozzi a few metres behind.

"There are an almost infinite number of approaches a person can take to almost anything. But if you've taken up an orange power ring, you have to proceed in a particular way or you cripple yourself."

"You're certain?"

"I am until a Lantern with abilities superior to mine comes along."

She lands beside me.

"And we are here because you wish to give these people the opportunity to explain themselves."

We're attracting a degree of wary interest from the local pedestrians. The local humanoids have red-brown skin and cream coloured horns projecting forward from the sides of their skulls. Though this planet is a little more cosmopolitan than the makeup of this particular street suggests, this area isn't one off-worlders generally live in.

"No. They don't need to justify themselves to me. I want the opportunity to discuss the subject with them. To see if I can allay their concerns. Not because I care about them at all-"

One of the nearby pedestrians frowns at me.

"-but because I care about the ideals that I hold. Because I want to be the sort of person who tries talking. Make sense?"

"And what if I told you that I only care about efficiency?"

"Then I'd ask why you were still in an organic body. Why you worked for Amalak rather than taking a position with a Crown Imperium noble family who could pay you better. Why you were speaking to me rather than using ring-based communication bursts, and so on and so on. And when you'd answered those questions to my satisfaction, I'd ask how the heck you were judging anything other than short term efficiency with any accuracy in such a complex situation."

"You may assume that I'm Coluan."

"You still need data you don't have. If anything, the fact that… You've read up on our first battle?" She nods. "Do you think you're more intelligent than Vril Dox the Second?"

"No. So you plant your standard and let others rally to you or not as they see fit."

"Pretty much. Though I'm happy to let other people fulfil any desires they may have which are not diametrically opposed to my own, because that's how I see the galactic community working best."

I turn in the direction of the building displaying the name 'Dynamist Functionalist Union Party'.

"So let's find out what they want, and how we can all get what we want."

 

[Mr Zoat]

8th July 2012
22:37 GMT

"Hello?"

Okay, so far I don't like how places away from Earth handle reception. The lobby of a major political party should have at least three people available to handle drop-ins during the working day, whereas here they have precisely none. Sure, I can still see where everyone is as this is a thaumically dead world and no one has any shielding, and Lantern Gozzi could find them with a ring scan, but where would they be if a local journalist turned up?

I've a good mind to have a word with their manager.

"Hello!?"

Lantern Gozzi's eyes flash orange.

"I think they may have misunderstood your intent."

That is quite a lot of yellow.

"If I go after them, do you think they'll be amenable to reason, or just panic more?"

She gives me a slightly puzzled look.

"Rings can load huge amounts of data to your brain if you want them to. I can do it, but as a Coluan you're much better able to cope with it than me. And as you have better social skills than Clarissi Dox…"

Her eyes are already flickering, so I wait for a decision.

"Raids on political groups are unusual, though not unheard of." She blinks, her eyes clearing. "I surmise that they're mostly concerned because we're aliens."

"That's simple enough to fix, then."

A wave of orange washes over my body, changing my outward appearance to match the locals. Horns are… Weird.

"They're almost certainly watching the internal feeds. They'll know that you're pretending."

"Instincts are not rational things. If they see a familiar face, then hopefully it won't matter what they know."

I walk over to the front desk and… There it is, activate the internal communications.

"Hello there! I understand that certain parties in residence here are concerned about your world's involvement in the war with the Reach, and I've come here to discuss those concerns with you to see if I can allay them. If you're not interested in having that conversation with me, then I'm perfectly happy to leave. You just need to tell me that's what you-"

"Ah."

"-want." I move away from the microphone. "What?"

"Political violence is unusual. However, the custom appears to be that meetings like this should take place at a neutral location. Going directly to someone's home or place of work appears to be a local taboo."

"'Don't drop litter' taboo, or 'don't shit in the street' taboo?"

"That's rather difficult to calibrate."

I turn the microphone back on.

"It's just been pointed out to me that coming here directly may have been in violation of local custom. I apologise. I was not aware of that. On my world, walking into the offices of a political opponent would be perfectly fine. If you'd rather have a discussion somewhere else, just let me know where and I'll go there at once. That… Will of course have to involve you actually communicating with me."

I look through the walls at the crowds heading for the evacuation points. There appears to be a good deal less yellow, though most of them are still leaving. Darn it. Note to self: always phone ahead.

And… Yeah, yeah, they appear to have designated the ritual sacrifice. With the danger of critical mission failure now abated I stop looking quite so closely. I don't think 'I can see into your soul' is something I want people who are already scared of me to know. Not right off the bat, anyway.

"Um, hello?"

"Hello. I'm still in the lobby. Have you picked an address?"

"I'll-. Ah. I'll come to you."

"I'll be waiting."

I turn off the microphone.

"Highest ranker on site, or most expendable office junior, do you think?"

"The local custom is to use junior managers for forlorn hopes. They get promoted if they survive."

"This is a forlorn hope? I just.. walked into a building. I didn't even break through any sort of security."

"I didn't claim that local custom made any sense."

"Good, because it doesn't-."

A local man wearing a shirt and sleeveless jumper nervously walks out of a corridor, raising two hands in what my rings tell me is a local deferential greeting.

"If you don't want people to walk in, just put a sign on the door."

"I'll.. pass that on."

"Thank you."

I walk towards him. Ring, local formal greeting is..? Stand just in front and touch your own horns..? Why-? Because you're demonstrating that you're not about to try and gore them, okay, that actually makes sense. So I do that and wait-. He just taps his points, which I suppose is probably the more 'street' way of doing it. Fine. I let go of mine, and he appears to have relaxed a little.

"So do you want to do this here..?"

"Since… You're here, we may as well. I didn't think that the br-. Ahh… The aliens had recruited any of us yet."

"We're recruiting from all over. Are you interested in a power ring yourself?"

"N… No. No, I'm not."

"Alright. So… What actually is dynamistic functionalism?"

He looks at me sceptically. "That's what you want to know?"

"If I don't know what you think you believe, how can I possibly attempt to find common ground?"

"Oh. You're not from home-. Ah, this planet, are you?"

"No, I'm not."

"Right." He grins, and slaps his cheeks. "Of course. you wouldn't-. Spacer, or an alien planet?"

"Another planet."

"Right, I didn't mean like-. Ah, I've just.. never had anyone directly ask me what dynamistic functionalism is, you know?"

"No I very literally don't."

"No! You don't! But if there's one thing we can do here it's explain what dynamistic functionalism is." He actually looks a little excited. A little too excited. "I suppose it starts about four hundred and eighty-. No. No no no, if you want to really understand it, you have to go back-. How good are you at history?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

Earth 534834

20th November 1992
11:13 GMT -5

I look at Jubilee mournfully. As mournfully as I can while covered in the blasted, chocolaty remains of the morning's work.

"I… I guess I used too much baking powder."

I blink, then raise my right hand to my eyes to wipe some of the… Ex-cake, off my face while my assistant gasps in shock… Then snorts in amusement.

"Oh, whaw. Are you okay?"

Because 'baking powder' obviously explains why the plate shattered and the icing went everywhere like I added gelignite rather than gelatine. Fortunately, the work surface took the worst of it and my environmental shield is still up, but exploding shards of pottery are no laughing matter.

"I'm caked in cake, Jubilee."

"What in tarnation-?"

Rogue flies into the kitchen at speed, double takes and lands unsteadily, staring wide-eyed at me.

I spread my arms apologetically. "I'm afraid that lunch may be somewhat delayed."

She smiles as she approaches, pulling off her right glove and using her exposed hand to scoop cake off my right cheek. She then… Inserts the middle three fingers into her mouth, making a loud… Sucking noi-.

"Ew! Gross!"

Jubilee pulls a face, then turns and double-times out of the kitchen as Rogue pulls out her fingers, her tongue following them-.

"Summat goin' on in here?"

Logan steps around the retreating Jubilee, sniffs, and looks both of us over as Rogue and I awkwardly step apart. Then he turns around, waving his right hand dismissively.

"Try not ta wreck the place. And maybe put a sock on the door next time."

He closes the door with a thump, thoroughly killing the mood.

Rogue and I… Avoid one another's eyes for a moment as I use the ring to clean up the blast zone. Rogue's… Been very… Tactile with me ever since I started training here, for… Obvious reasons. And she's a very attractive woman, and… That's a novel experience for me. But we don't actually know each other all that well, and… A certain existing member of the team has been making it clear that he's not at all happy with the way things have been developing. This is the furthest he's taken things, but if he's getting this petulant then I… Need to have a word with the man.

And I need to do it now, not after Rogue's finished licking her fingers clean.

As pleasant as that is to watch.

"As, ah… Appealing as that sounds, I need to go and have a word with Mister Le.. Beau."

Rogue sighs. "And why, ah'm sure ah can't imagine." She raises her eyebrows. "Am ah gunna need a hose for you boys?"

Ignoring the idea of a masculine wet t-shirt contest that suddenly appears in my mind, I shake my head.

"My word of honour that I will keep things-" A wave of orange removes the cake from me before turning into a construct rubbish bag and depositing it in the bin. "-civilised."

"Guess a fellah's gotta do what a fellah's gotta do."

I nod.

And neither of us mov-. Oh come on! I turn away, heading out through the kitchen's other door, out through one of the Manor's many side exits, around to the front-.

Mr LeBeau and I walk into each other.

The ring keeps me in place while he instinctively springs back, right hand going for his collapsible staff. It takes him a second to process who I am, and when he does his expression doesn't get any friendlier.

I smile. "Mister LeBeau. Just the man I wanted to speak to."

"Can't imagine I got much I wanna say to you."

"I'm sorry, but it's somewhat hard to parse the meaning of an exploding cake." He smirks. "And I'm sure that if I let it go you'd continue pranking me in a similarly juvenile fashion, so I thought that I'd give you the opportunity to air your grievance to my face like a civilised adult. Though I suppose you don't really need to since it's obvious what it is."

"Since you wanna do this civilized-like, it ain't too polite to chase after another man's girl."

"Leaving aside the uncomfortable implication that you could own another human being, and ignoring the fact that I've seen you hit on four other women since I've been here -one in the middle of a fire fight- I rather think that's her decision. And it's a very easy one, because I've got an advantage that you don't. I can touch her, and you can't."

His face hardens.

"Which just emphasises to me that you're not serious about her, and this reaction is the result of pure.. thwarted.. pride."

"Wouldn't mind seeing how you touch her without dat ring."

"Mister LeBeau, you live in a world of hover wheelchairs, man-portable plasma weapons and giant robots. And yet, not once have you attempted to acquire a device that would let you touch her. You simply threw 'charm' at her in the hope that she'd eventually… What, succumb and drain you to death?"

He frowns.

"How m'ah supposed to make something like dat, exactly?"

"From one of any number of high-tech research companies? Skin-tight force fields have any number of applications. You wouldn't even need to tell them what you planned on using it for. But since that hasn't occurred to you to do that… Fine. How about you and me go and visit Anthony Stark and see what he can come up with?"

He blinks, his surliness momentarily shocked into abeyance.

"You plannin' on helping me? Why?"

"Because it's one thing to win a race because you were the better man on the day, and quite another to win it because the other man didn't bother turning up on the day. If I don't help you, I get to spend the rest of my life wondering if Rogue's with me because I'm the best bet out of the handful of people she could be with. And I'd probably be fine with that, actually, but I'm trying to be the bigger man here."

He hesitates.

"Do you want to turn into Logan? Because this is how you turn into Logan."

The surliness returns, but not quite to the same intensity. Good, he at least recognises that there's a problem.

"Professor think Rogue can learn to control her power."

"Yes. Hopefully. Maybe. Eventually. Frankly, I think Professor Xavier is being too optimistic, but even he doesn't have any idea how long that could take. And you know she's motivated to learn. How long were you expecting her to put her life on hold for?"

He nods grudgingly.

"You know Stark?"

"Never met the man. But I've got what I think is a piece of alien technology I think he'll trade for his help. Make a decision, Mister LeBeau."

He nods, returning his collapsed staff to its sheath.

"You wanna give Rogue to me, be foolish not to accept."

"That's really not what I'm doing." I rise into the air. "The headquarters of Stark Enterprises is in New York. Can you make your own way, or do you need a lift?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

Earth 534834

20th November 1992
11:27 GMT -5

"…telling you, if you ain't got an appointment then I ain't letting you in."

Mr. LeBeau reaches into his coat.

"How's about-?"

I elbow him. "We commend you on doing your job so diligently. However, we believe that Iron Man has been looking for the owner of this-"

I take the ring out of subspace and slide it through the slot in the guard station.

"-for some time, and he may appreciate being told of its location."

"I can't just phone up Tony Stark and ask him to come down here!"

"No, but you can phone the head of security and say 'weird ring at the front gate'. And if he tells you to tell us to get lost…" I shrug. "We'll clear off and make an actual appointment."

The security guard looks into my eyes for a few moments, then sighs and reaches for the booth's phone.

"Alright, but if Iron Man throws you off the lot with a unibeam, don't blame me."

"Thank you, wouldn't dream of it."

I take a step back as he starts dialling, keeping a watchful eye on us both all the while.

Mr. LeBeau frowns at me.

"Why didn't you phone ahead?"

"I don't have his number. And I didn't exactly plan for you to blow up my cake this morning."

"…guy at the front gate. Says he wants Mister Stark or Iron Man. Got some weird rings-." He frowns, taking a closer look at me. "Ah, yeah? He's-." … "Right away, sir."

He drops the phone, turns, and dashes out of the booth, sprinting for the main building.

…

Oh. Oh, they think-. Shield!

Mr. LeBeau is already on his marks, staff extended as he watches for where the attack will come from. We both spot the plume of flame from the roof of the Stark Enterprises building at the same time. I respond by reorientating my shield and switching to my armoured costume while Mr. LeBeau steps into the cover of the guard booth.

"What you do to rile them up?"

"I think they just had a bit of a miscommunication-"

The plume of flame vanishes as the armour switches to a dive, heading directly towards us. It's-. Not Iron Man. Dark blue, grey and white. War Machine.

"-about who we are. You see, the original owner of that ring-" I send construct filaments through the opening in the guard screen and recover it. "-kidnapped Anthony Stark, gave him permanent spinal injuries and used him for slave labour before he escaped."

"So when they ask, I didn't come here with you."

A wave of hot air washes over us as War Machine brakes, switching to an upright position as he points his arm-mounted weapons at me.

"Drop your weapons."

I gamely raise my hands. "Strictly speaking, I'm not carrying any weapons."

"Sure doesn't looks like that to me."

"A shield is generally considered armour. May I draw your attention to the fact that I'm not green?"

"If you're not working for the Mandarin, where did you get that ring?"

I take the finger out of subspace and throw it at him. He actually catches it rather than dodging or shooting, bringing his right hand up to his faceplate to get a closer look.

"The heck is-?"

…

"Is this what I think it is?"

"If you think it's the Mandarin's finger, yes. That's how I got the ring."

"And the Mandarin?"

"Got away, down a finger and a-" I hold the ring up. "-ring. Otherwise I'd have said something before now. Do you think you can..? Lower your guns now?"

He hesitates for a moment, then lowers his arms and descends to the ground.

"You want something?"

"A friend of mine needs a piece of equipment that I'm hoping that Stark Enterprises can develop. I wanted to offer Mister Stark this ring in exchange."

"And what does your friend hiding behind the booth want?"

I roll my eyes. "A kick up the arse, probably. Miste-. Gambit?"

Staff folded away but hands concealed, Mr. LeBeau steps back into view.

"Gambit?"

I roll my eyes. "Yes, War Machine?"

"Question.. withdrawn."

"Hey, don't feel bad." Mr. LeBeau nods his head in my direction. "This guy picked 'Orange Lantern'."

"On Maltus, the lantern is the symbol of law enforcement, while the colour refers to-. Never mind. Has Mister Stark agreed to meet us?"

"Yeah, he'll meet you. His office is on the top floor. You want a lift?"

"I can fly. Gambit?"

He shrugs, which is sufficiently unhelpful that I just stick orange greaves around his legs and carry him with us. He schools his expression almost immediately and flashes me a decidedly put-out look as we land on the roof. Mr. Stark appears to have seen us coming and is waiting for us, leaning on his walking stick. A briefcase… Probably containing a low-weight version of his power armour is propped up against the roof exit wall.

"So! You took the Mandarin's finger! Nice work. Want a job? I could always use two bodyguards."

"Not at present, but thank you for the offer. I'm trying to improve my skills before returning full-time to the field."

"Seems to me your skills are pretty good."

"'Pretty good' would have been getting the rest of him. Listen,-."

"I was listening. I get the Mandarin's ring, you get whatever it is your friend wants. So what does he want?"

"A friend of.. mine and Gambit's has a preternatural ability which causes her to drain the vitality out of any animal she touches. She can't turn it off. I was hoping that you'd be able to design some sort of skin tight force field that would deliver tactile feedback, because… As things stand, she can't touch people."

"Force fields aren't really my strong point, but I could look into it. And I know some people. Show me the ring?"

I float it over to him, and he snatches it out of my construct before examining it closely.

"Yeah, I recognize this. And you don't, clearly."

"I'm sorry?"

He looks at me like I'm a somewhat slow child.

"This is the impact beam ring. Your friend could probably make the sort of force field you want just by putting it on." He shrugs as my right palm meets my forehead. "I mean, I'll still take the commission if you want me to..?"

Mr. LeBeau raises his eyebrows.

"How long you had dat ring?"

"A.. while, but I didn't want to risk testing it in case it was dangerous to the user, or… Had some sort of security."

Mr. Stark shakes his head. "Not as far as I know. If the Mandarin knew how to make them, he'd have them on his toes as well. I think he found them somewhere else and took them. Which means…"

"No security, or he wouldn't have been able to."

I sigh.

"Right! Sorry to have wasted everyone's time. I'll be heading home now to give Rogue the good news."

 

[Mr Zoat]

9th July 2012
00:01 GMT

"…which is pretty much the state of things today."

…

I think… It would have been interesting, if he wasn't assuming that I knew a lot more about this world's history and culture than I do. That ignorance -even with my rings frantically dumping bits of social and historical information into my brain and giving me a headache- meant that I simply lacked the cultural context to understand most of the last two hours.

I suppose that a misleadingly named political party shouldn't surprise me. Before the last two hours happened, if I'd had to explain what I thought 'dynamistic functionalism' was, I'd probably have guessed something along the lines of Krypton's musical councils system. The Science Council oversees the scientists, but the extent of that oversight is controlled by a popular ballot, thus granting dynamism to a system arranged around function.

It turns out that the local version of dynamistic functionalism is neither functional nor particularly dynamic. At the intellectual end, they appear to be in favour of something a little like pre-World War Two American Technocratism, with a unified management group that comes from… Somewhere? I'm not sure where, because they appear to be fairly against people having input on areas of society outside of their personal experience. But from what I could pick out, their support base is generally amongst people who want a group installed that can fix the issue of the day quickly and that's it, while the majority of their civilisation is happy with a decentralised but slow system.

I think.

I can't tell whether Lantern Gozzi's eyes are glassy because she's been stupefied or because she's fact checking.

"Gosh, that was detailed. I'm very impressed that you were able to do a speech like that off the cuff."

"Thanks. It's nice-. I mean, Dad said I probably shouldn't just, you know, talk continuously like that, because…" He shrugs awkwardly. "Some people find it off-putting…"

"And in a social context he's probably right, but this is a business context and I do actually need to know-" -about four percent of- "-that. But that.. doesn't really tell me why you're against war with the Reach. Surely, if in the opinion of your military officers, whose function it relates to, the Reach are a threat to your civilisation, it shouldn't be a problem. I mean, do you have military experience?"

"No, but, that's not the point. As outsiders, we can't break alien civilisation up into parts in the way we can our own. We haven't lived their lives. Any analysis we could make would be hopelessly flawed. And none of our military leaders have tried."

"The Reach do have a bit of a habit of mind controlling people who try that sort of thing."

"Except again, we're forced to view those claims outside their cultural and species context. If the Maltusians are so concerned about mind control, why do they issue their elite forces like you with weapons whose secondary function is mind control? I don't know. I'm not Maltusian. Maybe it'd make more sense to me if I was a billion years old. But I'm not and never will be."

"So… Okay. Um. What… Do you want in relation to the Reach?"

"Nothing. If they actually attacked us that… That would be different. But we're attacking a society we can't understand in their own territory."

"Their own territory, which is significantly larger than it was… Say… A hundred years ago."

"They clearly have a very successful social paradigm."

…

Not untrue. But the important thing is that he genuinely believes this, and scans don't show any of the markers for Reach control mechanisms. And given his people's history, there appears to be a base of popular support for the local anti-war movement. Which means that this isn't my problem, it's the local government's problem. Probably best fixed by… Having them broadcast refugee interviews? I doubt that we'll convert the hardcore of political devotees, but if they go back to their historical…

I consider the building, and their recent levels of political support.

"Is this building new?"

"The building, no. We only moved in recently, though. We needed the extra space for all the extra coordination work we're doing. This is pretty much the anti-war headquarters for the whole planet! Which is… Why you coming here made-. Um. Put everyone on edge."

Ah, yes. That's a familiar tune. People joining up with one group in opposition to its obvious rival, whether or not they agree with or are even aware of its wider platform. But again, so far so humanoid normal.

"I don't really know how political funding works around here. Do your new members pay… Subscription fees?"

"Oh, members of deliberative bodies get money for staff in relation to their government work, but the movement is entirely donation-funded. All those records are publically available if you want to check them."

Ring, acquire their account data and identify discrepancies-.

How depressingly familiar.

"There do appear to be some… Donations, large ones, from non-local donors..?"

"Yeah, probably."

"I hope you can understand that it doesn't really… It's not really transparent if you don't know who-."

"Oh, it's probably the Reach."

I.. blink at that.

"You know that for a.. fact?"

"No, of course not. Taking direct donations from someone we're at war with is very illegal. But it's not like anyone can work out exactly the 'origin' of money that's passed through a lot of different hands. I mean, at what point do you stop, right? And our supporters -ones we can track- do make up most of our increased income. But lump sum donations when we became the leading anti-war party after our planetary government committed to L.E.G.I.O.N. membership? It wasn't hard to guess. And…"

For the first time since he started talking, he looks nervously in the direction of the main hiding place of most of his colleagues.

"'Guess'… I don't know or have any direct contact with any Reach person, so I could be wrong…"

I shake my head. "I'd probably assume that it's the Reach too. Both in your position and in my position. But can I.. assume that you're just interested in legal and peaceful political activism?"

"Of course."

"Then that's completely fine. And can I also assume that there won't be a problem with a representative of L.E.G.I.O.N. visiting… Well, arranging a meeting and discussing your complaints further at some point in the future?"

He takes a moment to look for a verbal trap.

"No..?"

"Excellent. It's been a pleasure to have met you. Please pass on my apologies to your colleagues for so disturbing them. We'll see ourselves out."

I turn around and lead-. Follow Lantern Gozzi out of the door. She leads the way to the far side of the street before stopping.

"I hope that your empathic abilities enabled you to get something out of that."

"His beliefs are genuine and natural. Looking around…" I unfocus my eyes as I try to apply empathic vision to the entire planetary population. Not precise, but… "I think their recent increase in support is as well. We'll need to trace that funding-."

"Already done."

"Then we'll pay the sources a visit, then follow up with the planetary government."

 

[Mr Zoat]

9th July 2012
00:27 GMT

This time, I called ahead.

"Yes, we handled that transaction."

The local woman opposite me shrugs. For a short sit-down meeting a local café suffices, apparently. This one has the advantage of being in the same building as her office. And a number of similar offices. Most of the tables around us are occupied by people engaged in similar activity, though the sound suppressors mean that I'd have to exert myself to eavesdrop on what they're saying.

"Our planet's rules on donations to politically active entities are intended to make it possible to trace anyone who makes a questionable donation. Of course, what it… Actually did was encourage the use of firms like mine to act as the 'end-donor' so that our name goes on the records and the… 'Indirect' donor avoids scrutiny."

"I'm a little surprised that you're being so open about it."

She taps the side of her right horn. A disinterested shrug.

"It's common knowledge. There are… Eighteen? Proposed modifications to the process progressing through our political system at the moment. Our legislative process is neither fast nor agile."

"So how did this planet become a L.E.G.I.O.N. affiliate so quickly?"

"That didn't require legislative change. The Proconsuls handle foreign relations with executive power, and by the time any of the legislation trying to cork their horns makes its way through the committee stage, the war will probably be over."

"It's probably going to be a long war."

"The meetings of department committees are open to the public. If you want to stop by one, you'll see what I mean."

"Can I request that you tell me who the original donor was?"

"Yes, but as my law firm is not a 'politically active entity' I don't have to tell you."

"Can I persuade you to tell me?"

"Hmmm. I'm not saying no, but I don't see how our planet's economy could survive you giving us the amount of money it would take. You've got the fines for breaking client confidentiality, and then there's the lost business relating to the fact that we broke client confidentiality, and then there's the impact on my career…"

"Are you working towards something or is that a long-winded 'no'?"

"It's a long-winded 'no'. But…" She slides a card across the table towards me. "Here are my direct contact details if you want to ask me anything else."

I pick it up and subspace it as she gets up.

"Thank you, but I'm afraid that the Orange Lantern Corps isn't currently interested in doing any counter-lobbying-."

"Anything." She reaches towards me with her right hand and lightly rubs my right horn with her forefinger. "Anything else."

She smiles, then struts away. Hm. I.. suppose this body must be fairly attractive by local standards.

Or maybe she's just-.

My original ring blinks.

"Yes?"

"Data acquired."

"And retroactively justified. Is it another clearing house law firm?"

"An investment corporation specialising in property transactions, on behalf of a trust."

"Okay, so-."

"Do you wish to give each party along the chain the option of being honest, or may we simply skip to the end?"

"We'll have to come back and test everyone…"

The waitresses at this café are… Staring at me. Huh.

That doesn't happen on Earth. That I've… Noticed. I mean, I… Don't go to cafés all that much..

"Everyone, but I suppose we need to prioritise. Where are we heading?"

"Second moon of the fourth planet."

I look… Down. "Got it. See you there."

A moment of disconnection

and then I appear. This moon is interesting. Unusually high metal content, and they've essentially decided to take it apart. It's now visibly non-spherical due to the huge quantities of material they've removed, and the extensive metallic hydrogen extraction systems processing material from the gas giant it orbits has made this the prime ship-building location in the system. An appreciable chunk of the ships in the docking cradles are L.E.G.I.O.N. export models, which…

I've had a big impact. Not just in blowing things up. Building things and enabling other people to build things as well.

Huh. Surprising how good that feels.

Lantern Gozzi appears next to me.

"Do you wish to speak with the garrison?"

"No. Not much point. I exist to back them up, and at worst we're going to be dealing with a few suborned locals and maybe a scarab. Got the address?"

"Can you not see them?"

"The programming they use for long term infiltrators isn't as obvious as that."

I take a look around anyway, just in case. A lot of people around here. The locals went tall rather than broad when they left their homeworld. There aren't many in other systems but they're spread out across all of the small rocky bodies in their home system. Probably why foreign relations is an executive function; until recently they haven't really needed to have any. Not seeing anything that strikes me as particularly Reachy. Self interest? Again, nothing monoptically destructive. Moderately self-destructive, but mining is a physically demanding career and it's not like regular intoxication is statistically unusual.

"I'm happy that I can be of use."

I turn to face her, smiling. "Really? Are you?"

"I.. think you may be reading too much into that statement. I intended it as social lubricant, not as a declaration of my life goal."

"You can just be honest around me. I'm not easily offended."

"Alright then. I think that you're being unproductively soft in the way you're conducting this investigation and that increased ruthlessness and haste would serve L.E.G.I.O.N. better."

I nod. "You could be right. Please lead the way, and we'll see what we see."

She accelerates in the direction of one of the supply centres, and I dutifully follow on behind her.

 

[Mr Zoat]

9th July 2012
00:33 GMT

"How would you feel about becoming my acolyte?"

Lantern Gozzi frowns at me as we watch the business premise of our target.

"In what sense? I will remind you I that haven't decided that I want to remain an Orange Lantern yet."

"I don't think you'd have come all this way if there was any doubt. Peace time administration not your thing?"

Her eyes narrow slightly. "You know."

"Maybe."

She looks away.

"I liked having the direct working relationship with Amalak that we had until now. It's been… Varied. Negotiations with governments and pirates, administration and combat. With Vega at peace and his organisation switching to policing… The work is becoming more simple while also requiring that the two of us spend less time working together."

"Are you romantically interested in him?"

"No. It simply… Suits my sense of place. And he's holding onto the hope that there's a surviving female of his own species that he could mate with. And you presume to offer what I had with Amalak."

"Something like that. I'd suggest talking to him about it directly-."

"He encouraged me. The various surviving Vega powers are quite eager to have a way to monitor you. Princess Koriand'r had seemed like the best choice, given your interactions to date."

"Princess Koriand'r is invested in Tamaran. The place needs her there."

"And Amalak doesn't need me?"

"You tell me."

She pauses for a moment.

"And what does being your acolyte involve?"

"I have abilities no other Orange Lantern possesses. You would study my techniques and ways of thinking with the aim of developing them yourself. I want to see if that's even possible without bonding with the Ophidian."

"You would provide me with all pertinent information?"

"I provide anyone who asks with all pertinent information. I'd be coaching you."

"And then?"

"You'll be an Orange Lantern with the ability to travel anywhere in the universe at any time. You can hang around me, move to Earth -which has a highly varied work environment- or travel from Lantern to Lantern helping them with their work as the mood takes you. Or just pursue your own projects."

"And fighting the Reach?"

"It's worth a ring to learn that others can develop the ability to do what I do. I'd like it if you stuck around, but you shouldn't consider yourself obliged to. And… Speaking from personal experience, how you feel about the idea now may not be how you feel about it afterwards."

"If we are successful."

"Yes. If. But it sounds like you were looking for an alternative to working for Amalak anyway."

"Perhaps we should continue with this mission. It will give me a better idea of what it would be like."

I nod. "Fair enough. Do you want to take the lead? I suspect that you've interrogated more people than I have."

She frowns. "How much experience do you have?"

"I got my ring about two years ago."

"Y-? A-?" She blinks, her eyes unfocused. "I had assumed that it took longer than that."

"It's been an interesting two years. Vega was comparatively uneventful compared to my homeworld."

"I will take the lead." She flies across the rocky wasteland towards the smelting plant, light construct armour enveloping her. "There should not be significant defences. Light infantry weapons at worst."

"Seems like a reasonable conclusion, and scans support it. Unfortunately-"

An energy beam bursts through the planet and hits her in the chest!

"-the Reach can interfere-"

Another shot as Lantern Gozzi hurtles out of control through the air, her armour glitching as she tries to bring herself back under control. I lasso her and generate a plasma shield generator construct.

"-with ring scans. Fortunately, neural impacters aren't even-"

A scarab warrior flies out of the hole, oversized qwardian weapon on its hands. Horns, so a local boy/girl. Might still be possible to assimilate it, since it's not a Reachian. It fires again, the beam of energy striking my plasma field and achieving little. The weapon then -oh that's interesting- shifts shape into what looks like a rapid-fire-.

I deactivate the plasma screen and move as the qwa-bolts chew through the rock, converting everything within the blast radius to vapour and radiation! Shield and accelerate!

The drifts of exploding dust slow to a crawl.

And-. Qwa-matter weapons in the hands of aliens? That's Qwardian heresy! Ring, tell Lantern Kalmin!

Compliance.

And alert local government.

Compliance.

Empathic vision shows a definite spike in concern in the smelter plant, though that might just be a result of the explosions rather than an admission of guilt.

Speaking of explosions, I should probably do something about that.

I form two railgun constructs and load crumbler rounds, the second being destroyed by a qwa-bolt even as the first fires-. And the scarab warrior staggers slightly, its body-morphed point defence systems shooting my round so that all that hits it is the kinetic force.

Not a bad response. Top marks.

The scarab reacts to my attack, extending the armour from its arms to cover the gun as best it can. It's a little awkward; scarabs aren't designed to carry external weapons like this. But it will reduce the impact of kinetic attacks. And… Perhaps directly targeting a device storing qwa-matter isn't the best idea anyway.

I reform the destroyed railgun, orange light flowing into shape as the scarab warrior tries to bring its gun back on target fast enough to stop me. This model appears to be faster than others I've encountered. Not by enough though, as the second railgun joins the first in rapid-fire mode. The scarab is forced to morph stabilisers to prevent the repeated impacts knocking it around, and the shots are edging closer as the point defences can't quite keep up-.

A chunk of its left shoulder evaporates and the point defence laser mounted on it loses speed. And then my shots start hitting him, armour being erased from the chest and gun cowling. The scarab tries to repair it by shifting armour from the back, but Lantern Gozzi has already flanked it and fired directly at the parasite.

The scarab-matter disintegrates in a wave of orange, leaving us with a heavily injured local man.

Excellent.

 

[Mr Zoat]

9th July 2012
00:48 GMT

When I rip the door open, the Reach man remains sitting on the hidey-hole's only chair, arms folded on his lap.

"Good morning."

"That's interesting. We weren't sure if you could detect things through our sensor baffles."

No weapons, no suicide implants. Good show.

"It's rather hard to baffle everything. Power rings are the most adaptable tool in the universe."

"For now."

"I'm curious: why attack if you thought that we couldn't detect you?"

"You're a high value target."

And I have a clear fear-association in his mind. Not an overwhelming one, but he's painfully aware that I'm going to be able to do a great deal of damage to the Reach and that they don't have an efficient counter for me. Of course, internally he's couching that in terms of 'bearable damage' and 'no efficient counter yet', but with an expansionist empire that's how it works. They overcome, or they die.

Huh. The feeling I'm getting… Reminds me of one of Harry Turtledove's books. The best tank commander in the United States got sidelined by his own military until the Confederacy tried to assassinate him. When that happened, they were forced to recognise that he probably knew what he was talking about and promote him. Being recognised like this is kind of nice.

And unlike a random fifty year old American, I can survive their special attention.

"Thank you. But I'm still not convinced that it was worth taking that shot."

The Reach man looks dissatisfied.

"The scarab warrior acted in haste. If you hadn't destroyed it, I would ensure that its programming was updated."

Hm. Looks true. There are associations with disadvantageous decisions taken by others affecting him.

"And the qwardian technology?"

"The Reach is a mercantile empire. It's remarkable what can be found for sale in some places."

"Yeah. That was qwa-matter. I've been to Qward. I know how they treat that stuff."

"Be that as it may; I'm a social adaptation specialist, not a merchant or theologian."

"I'm just implying that with the mind control functions of an orange power ring, combined with the telepaths we have at our disposal, you might prefer to simply tell me rather than be exposed to those."

"On the contrary; the most I can do now is tie up your resources for just a little longer. And I hardly know anything truly critical."

"As you wish."

I generate a construct body cast around him and make him stand.

"You are now a prisoner of N.E.M.O. and in accordance with our agreement with the local government will be moved to an interrogation centre for debriefing prior to being sent to a long term place of imprisonment. Is there anyone you would like us to notify of your capture?"

"My immediate superior. They'll need to arrange a replacement."

"Certainly. If you could give us their name and probable location?"

"Ah, I see you have a sense of humour! I didn't know that the Orange Lantern Corps had recruited anyone local."

…

Because I still look like a local. Which means that he thinks that my ability level is perfectly normal for Orange Lanterns, because there's nothing outwardly linking me to the Illustres of the Orange Lantern Corps. Okay, I… Can't think of a use for that, but I'll mention it to Dox.

I wonder if Jade likes horns?

I inject the agent with Reach-appropriate tranquilisers, strap him to a gurney construct and walk out of the concealed room back into the main plant area.

The staff are lined up in an empty storage warehouse, management lighting up the area around them with the glowing orange sigils shining from their foreheads. Lantern Gozzi is having a chat with one while the rest stand in a neat row awaiting their turn. The rest of the staff are a little perturbed by this, but most people get a little nervous around the police and given the obvious physical evidence I doubt that there will be much negative publicity. Yes, they're noticing my captive now and… Alright, it makes sense that they're more afraid of us harming them, but no one who isn't here right now is going to look at this and say that the problem was with us.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. As you can see, your facility here has been the centre of the Reach's efforts to infiltrate and influence your society. I'm a bit annoyed about that, but we'll be leaving determining your level of responsibility to the local justice system. However, if any of you have anything you wish to unburden yourself of, please feel free to speak up now."

Heads tilt back slightly, a show of deference. But no one has anything to say. Fair enough. I wouldn't expect the foundry workers to know anything about their employer's link to the Reach and they certainly wouldn't have any control over it. In a place like this…

This moon doesn't have much of an atmosphere. Once you're in a factory it's like the-. Like the oil rigs used to be back on Earth. You work long hours for part of the year for excellent pay, then you have months off to enjoy it. There probably wouldn't be a way for them to notify anyone even if they wanted to. If-.

"…so right, Lantern Gozzi. I've got no idea what I was thinking."

I turn to face her and her puppets.

"Progress?"

"Stupidity and short-sightedness." Her eyes move to the ex-scarab, who I gave a quick shot from the purple healing ray before chaining up. "He's the owner. It is alleged that he was having trouble servicing his debts and sought to refinance."

"The Reach are merchants. I assume that you've narrowed down how they managed to infiltrate the local financial markets?"

She shakes her head. "They don't keep records. It's quite legitimate for local people to exchange currency for foreign goods or services without registering it, even in bulk."

"That's inconvenient. Perhaps we can recruit a local to do financial due diligence? It's not as if the Reach limit themselves to purely military aggression."

"I suggest working through the executive branch instead. Trade with foreign entities is covered by their remit."

"Or split the difference. They can probably find a sufficiently obsessive financial analyst." I nod. "Are you alright to finish up here while I handle that?"

She nods.

"This use of the ring is quite intuitive. What were the Maltusians who developed it planning to use it for?"

"You'd have to ask Krona. And that may be a little difficult."

 

[Mr Zoat]

8th July 2012
20:26 GMT -6

I push open the door only to be greeted by a pint glass shattering against the wall next to me. If I was a baseline human the glass shards might have been dangerous. As it is I just sigh and walk fully into the bar where the two young men I'm here to see are just finishing the fight.

The younger-looking of the two backs away from his last opponent, side-stepping a swung snooker cue -people actually fight with those?- before closing the distance and tripping his opponent into the snooker table, then taking advantage of their confusion to put them in a sleeper hold.

The older-looking one doesn't bother with anything so fancy, being happy to take a right hook to the face in exchange-

"That the best you got?"

-for a clear shot of his own. The first opponent staggers back, but the second tried to grab him from behind-

"Pussy."

-and gets his nose broken-

"Awgh!"

-for his trouble.

Older brother then turns and expertly punches him in the diaphragm, causing him to collapse into a wheezing, bleeding heap.

It's hard to kill someone by breaking their nose with the back of your head, but given what I think has happened here I probably shouldn't let them keep taking risks.

"Alright, fight over!"

"Yeah?" Bigger brother looks at me fiercely. "Says who?"

I fold my arms across my chest. "Says the federal agent arresting you."

"A-?" He shoots a glance at his brother, who rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "They started it."

I look around the liquor-slick broken glass encrusted and generally-seen-better-days taproom.

"Are you trying to say that you didn't cause any of this?"

"I didn't cause it! I mean, yeah, I bro-"

"Hank, stop talking."

"-ke-." He glances at his brother as the youth approaches me. "What? Why?"

"Because Dad told us we shouldn't volunteer information to the police, especially not without a lawyer present. I'm pretty sure you were there for that lecture." He walks closer to me, sensibly stopping out of apparent arm's reach. "Could I see your ID, officer?"

"Quite sensible." I reach into my pouch while the Atlantean illusion charm I'm wearing makes it look like I'm reaching into my coat. I take out the fancy badge the Department of Metahuman Affairs gave me -which I generally don't bother with, because it's not as if there are people in the United States who don't know who I am- and offer it to him.

He looks it over for a moment, then looks back up at me. If he's surprised then he's concealing it well.

"You don't look a lot like your picture, Agent."

"Agent?" Hank walks over a fallen foeman as he comes to stand alongside his brother. "Lemme see that."

He snatches it out of his brother's hands, prompting another eye roll and an affectionate sigh.

"Who-?" His eyes widen. "You stole-? Aw, man, you are in so much trouble when he gets hold of you."

I smile, then push my amulet slightly outside of the area it affects.

"I got this from the Atlantean city of Venturia. I use it to disguise my appearance. But it doesn't do anything to my voice. May I?"

I reach out with my right hand and pluck my ID wallet from his unresisting hand.

"Donny. Ah. You're up?"

Donald Hall nods. "That card said that you're a federal agent for the DMA. I don't think that anything that happened here falls under your purview."

"Master Hall, I've killed four Lords of Chaos, and I use a Lord of Order as a paperweight. Does-"

Henry grins. "N-ice."

"-that give you some idea why I might want to talk to you, and why just about anything you do falls under my purview?"

"Oh. So you know about that."

"That you're lousy with order magic of a sort that requires a Lord of Order to use it? Yes." Thank you, Sunset. "So when I come here for a chat with your sponsor, and walk into you smashing up a bar, I have concerns."

Henry elbows his brother in the back.

"Bust-ed."

"As I said, Master Hall, I've neutralised four times the number of Lords of Chaos, and I know the magic that empowers you as well."

"Dude, not in public!"

He looks around at the empty bar, the fire escape door rattling as the last of their opponents helps one of his friends out of the building.

"And this is why you're supposed to 'take it outside'. It stops the bar getting smashed up and prevents you getting barred. And it makes the charge sheet shorter."

"Hey, what about those guys!?"

"My people will pick them up once they've received medical attention. Now: your sponsors. Who are they?"

They look at each other, hesitating.

"Thing is…" Donald shrugs. "We don't exactly know."

I huff. "I thought you were the smart one."

"Hey!"

"Hank's got a perfectly good brain-"

"Thanks."

"-when he uses it as something other than a blunt instrument. There was a voice offering us a chance to get the people who tried to murder our Dad, and Hank said 'yes'."

"So did you!"

"I said 'yes' because you did."

"For future reference, when a voice offers you power during a difficult time in your life and doesn't specify a price, call an exorcist."

Henry's face pales, while Donald looks more curious.

"That can happen?"

"It's unusual, but yes, there are demons who can reach out like that. You don't know how to contact them?" Two heads shake. "Alright then, you lads have a choice. I can formally arrest you for assault and criminal damage and hand you over to the local police, then arrest you for undeclared contact with an otherworldly entity, or you can volunteer to pay for the damage here and volunteer to accompany me to some magician colleagues of mine so we can work out what whoever did this to you actually did."

Hank blinks. "You mean half the damage, right? Because those guys-."

"No. You have super powers. This means that you must show better judgement than random drunken yokels because when you mess up the damage is much worse."

Donald looks away for a moment. "Can I just phone our Dad real quick?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

8th July 2012
19:35 GMT -7

Henry grins confidently as Sunset wraps a runic armlet around his upper right arm.

"Hey. Where you been all my life?"

Sunset turns to repeat the process on Donald, causing Henry to miss her rolling her eyes but enabling his brother to see it very easily.

"Wilson."

"Ah. Is 'Wilson' your boyfriend?"

"It's what Grayven decided to call my planet. Too tight?"

Donald shakes his head. "No, that's fine. How is this going to work?"

"You said that your clothes vanish when you transform. These-" She taps the main rune array. "-are essentially… 'Magic homing beacons'. Or magic mass spectrometers. Whether they go with your clothes or stay where they are, they'll be exposed to enough of the magic involved that I should be able to build a summoning array to put us in direct contact with your sponsor."

Both brothers nod. I've checked their school reports, and Donald was telling the truth. Just as he's a perfectly capable fighter, his brother is a perfectly capable thinker. A preference for direct measures doesn't mean that he can't reason or understand long words.

"So you're an alien chick."

Even if he happens to prefer short ones.

"No, I'm an alien pony."

Henry looks surprised for a moment, then grins and nods.

"Hey babe, I'm down for-.

"I literally transformed into a human when I came through a magic mirror. I'm naturally an equine quadruped."

I raise my eyebrows. Given the effort she went through… "Hexruped."

"Hm?" She blinks. "Oh. Yes." She checks her work and then stands well back out of the containment circle. "I wonder why the wings don't carry over into this shape?"

"Humans don't naturally come with wings any more than they come with horns. Maybe if…" I frown. "Could you shift the end point to Thanagar? That might work."

"Only if Thanagar was mystically active." She makes momentary eye contact with Henry and Donald. "Are you both ready?"

"Sure." / "Yeah."

Sunset lowers rune-encrusted goggles over her eyes. "Then go ahead."

"Hawk!" / "Dove!"

I frown. "Do you actually need to shout-?

An aura like a child's drawing of fire envelops Henry, while a simple blue-white band passes over Donald. Their costumes begin to appear, then in both cases the arcane effect stops, reverses, then shifts to the armlet.

"Huh?" Henry holds his arm out and stares at it. "That never happened before."

I stare at the light. "Looks like someone's not stupid. Sunset?"

Sunset gestures, and the lights float out of the circle to hover just in front of her.

"Huh. It should be easy enough to connect something to this."

"Good." I step forward and grab one with each hand. "Speak, outsiders."

"That wasn't what I-!"

"Ping."

The lights flow along the tron lines of my armour and my awareness… Stretches outside of my physical form, outside of my corporeal surroundings. It's a little like what happens when I use my abilities as a New God, only more… Profane. I can still feel my body, still see through my eyes… It's like hearing your name in a noisy room, or smelling a sudden scent of shit in a garden.

I haven't gone anywhere. But I'm experiencing… A white sky dotted with black stars. A barren floating island of translucent pink crystal.

And them. A giant green dragon is actually a good deal more mundane than I was expecting for… Either a Lord of Order or a Lord of Chaos. And… Its weirdly out of place necklace. I… Suppose it's no stranger than a helmet or a cat.

And then I look again and I see a face shown in relief, edges picked out by flames burning from an unidentifiable source, and a feminine figure made of fragments of blue glass. That's more like it.

"I am Grayven. Who am I talking to?" "I am Conquest."

The dragon lands on the floating crystal island, bending down so that its muzzle is just above me.

"I am T'Charr, Lord of Chaos."

"I assume that you know what I've done to every other Lord of Chaos I've encountered."

"They won't be missed."

"Not by me, and that's really all I care about. What are you doing?"

The dragon rears up slightly, perhaps trying to give the necklace a better view. The Lord of Order, presumably. It shimmers with the same blue/white light that Donald was glowing with.

"We are demonstrating the effectiveness of a partnership between Order and Chaos. The two brothers have different temperaments, and yet they work best together. They cover one another's weaknesses and complement one another's strengths."

"And you're just giving them power. You have no plans to come to Earth yourselves."

T'Charr nods. "And our having this compact with them will prevent other Lords entering your realm, just as if we were present in person."

I nod. "And that's all you're doing? No plan to possess them and walk around in their bodies? No plan to found some sort of cult to boost your exposure?"

The necklace… Someone shakes a head it doesn't have. "No. That would defeat the object of the exercise."

"And if they piggyback on your power to become Lords themselves?"

The dragon smiles. "Then there will be four who have learned the value of cooperation and collaboration, rather than just two."

"Alright, fine. But if you're lying, I will kill you both."

I open my hands, and my awareness of whatever I just experienced fades as the magic flames in my hands shoot across the room and envelop its owners. A moment later their… Truly horrible costumes appear on their bodies.

Sunset looks at me curiously. "Grayven?"

"Just had a word with their-." I turn to the Hall brothers. "Your sponsors. I believe that we can work together. Though my warning about making pacts with eldritch creatures still stands."

Donald nods. "That's-."

"Work together?!" Henry grins, his face mask not covering his chin at all. "You mean..?"

"How would you lads like a job this summer?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

9th July 2012
02:12 GMT

Kalmin lifts his facemask out of the way and steps back, his face a rictus of hate.

"I didn't want to believe it. Even of a man like Varnathon. Selling qwa weapons to aliens."

"Yes." Hinon breathes in and then out again. "I'm concerned for slightly more practical reasons. Ship-scale qwa-matter weapons would be extremely difficult for our current fleet to deal with."

"Weaponer Kalmin? Do you think that Varnathon would share the technology?"

"At the moment I would believe anything of that man. But I don't believe that the other Weaponers would tolerate it. Or if they did, that the Thunderers would. Though…"

I frown. "What?"

"I haven't been in contact with other Weaponers for a long time. I cut myself off when the weak-willed fools left me alive rather than kill me after casting me down. It's… Varnathon… Might have turned enough of them… Weakened them."

"Or killed them."

"No. If he couldn't even kill me, I doubt that he'd assassinate Weaponers in good standing. They'd stand their ground and fight back."

"Or perhaps that's why he'd kill them. You weren't a threat to him. They are."

"Then he is an alien wearing q'ardajin skin." He moves his mask to cover his face. "I will deal with the matter myself."

"I can't in good conscience-"

Hinon squints at me.

"-let you return to Qward on your own."

"You want me to go back with more aliens?"

"Qwardians have always been able to hire mercenaries. Many peoples aided the Anti-Monitor, even if q'ardajin history describes your people as being paramount among them. I've never asked you to make qwa-energy weapons for us-."

"If you had, you'd be dead."

"I've never asked you to make qwa-matter weapons for us, and the Reach is my enemy. And I suspect that Controller Hinon would be far happier if I made the q'ardajin my enemy as well."

"To put it mildly."

"Varnathon is not q'ardajin. He is merely Qwardian. As are any who follow him." He presses a couple of tools into the recovered weapon and detaches what I hope is the qwa-matter reservoir. "But I will tolerate you accompanying me."

"Thank you, Kalmin. I'll finish my current mission and then return here."

"Mn."

He picks up an analytical tool and takes a closer look at his former colleagues' work. I turn away and walk towards the exit. Kalmin has done his level best to make it impossible for me to reach the Honden from here, and while I suspect that I could power through his defences if I put enough effort in I don't really want to damage his equipment like that.

"This is interesting."

Hinon drifts along beside me, looking thoughtful.

"In what way do you find it interesting?"

"A potential q'ardajin civil war. Under the First Weaponlords there was always enough group cohesion that such a conflict never happened. Successful leaders bore enough respect that they could give orders and simply assume that they would be obeyed. And they were. The attempts of this 'Varnathon' to change their civilisation might be just what we need to cause it to break apart completely."

"Is that desirable?"

"With willing servants of the Anti-Monitor? Yes, definitely. With any luck they'll be reduced below replacement levels and in a handful of generations we will be able to write their species off entirely."

"When was the last time Kalmin dest-?"

"Oh no you don't. I can follow your reasoning perfectly well, and I'll tell you now…"

She increases her height slightly and glares at me.

"I'll consider the q'ardajin salvageable when Kalmin renounces the Anti-Monitor."

"If that is your condition, then I accept. Anything else?"

"You'll do it too, won't you."

She rolls her eyes as I smile, reducing her height and turning away.

"I'd like to meet your new acolyte. In the event that you succeed it might be helpful to have a 'before' and 'after'."

"Certainly, Controller."

A heartbeat

and then I'm standing next to Lantern Gozzi, who is watching the L.E.G.I.O.N. military police unit lead away the people we captured and load them into a prisoner transport.

"Ready for the next stop?"

"As ready as I can be without knowing what it is."

I flick a mote of orange into her ring.

"Dox is happy for us to tackle these in any order. Since you expressed a preference for variety, I thought that we'd deal with the Leentniar privateers next. Unless you have another preference?"

"It has been too long since my last combat mission. For a while after I transferred to Amalak's headquarters staff I periodically accompanied field teams, but I stopped after I realised that my presence was an unnecessary distraction."

"And it had nothing to do with the increased percentage of pirate recruits?"

"On the contrary." We rise off the moon, heading towards the system's edge. "Those groups assumed that I was 'Amalak's woman', and were unfailingly polite."

"I don't have a lot of experience with alien cultures. Is that sort of thing common?"

"Not wanting to offend members of your employer's family? Yes, most successful species have instinctive familial and tribal bonding. Thus, most individuals work out that insulting the in-groups of those in power over you is a sub-optimal strategy. Why do you ask?"

"My girlfriend joined the Darkstars on my recommendation. She's perfectly qualified, but I.. thought at the time that Director Jeddigar was a bit quick to accept the idea. Nepotism is officially frowned upon on Earth, and Jade certainly wouldn't want to get a position she didn't earn."

"I don't have enough data on the individuals involved to make a conclusion. In general, I would suspect that if you haven't involved yourself actively in her placements and she's been there a while, that it is unlikely that her association with you has amounted to anything more than a tie breaker."

I nod.

"Most recent ambush site first?"

She nods, and space bends as we leave the system.

 

[Mr Zoat]

9th July 2012
02:27 GMT

In the vast expanse of space, even large ships are very small.

Small ships aren't all that much smaller, proportionally speaking. But wrecked civilian ships are… Depressing. Someone put a lot of work into building this at some point, and now it's just torn apart. I can see the cloud of ice crystals where the plumbing has been holed and exposed to the void, the ship's inner workings just as visible as the cargo hold and main drive. Bodies, too. Anyone close enough to the points of impact was fried or blasted apart, then exposed to vacuum. Anyone wanting to identify them would have to perform a genetic test. Further in, the bodies are more intact. They appear to have had enough time to seal their suits before the boarders shot them.

Oh. And it's just now occurring to me that I didn't check Krypton for bodies. And I'm not spiritually motivated this time; Amalak's situation has made me extremely aware of the necessity for preserving the genetic diversity of species that are nearing extinction.

"An interesting offensive use of spatial distortions. Not only does it bypass standard shield technologies but it also muddies their trail."

I settle for turning up my empathic vision and looking around-. There. It's not hard to find pirates. Privateers. Enemies.

"But you can track them anyway?"

"Certainly. The calculations aren't so complicated that I can't perform them. What I'm more curious about is how they stopped this ship in interstellar space."

I didn't pick up anything in the wreckage, but a ring can't show me things that aren't there.

"No clues?"

"I would guess that they were able to get ahead of their target and create a disruption which forced them to return to normal space. Ordinarily I would assume that they had advanced notification of their target's planned route, but the sheer volume of space would make a simple betrayal insufficient for their purposes." She shrugs. "It will be easier to interrogate them than to attempt to deduce it based on the available evidence."

I sigh, and she frowns curiously at me.

"You must have seen things like this before, surely."

"Have you ever seen an exploded planet?"

"No. Am I likely to?"

"Depends if you got to Rao or not."

"Rao? Krypton? I knew that it was destroyed, but I assumed that whatever did it was limited to the surface."

"No, the whole place went up. The core exploded, and huge amounts of the planet's mass got converted into radioactive crystal. It just.. occurred to me: I assumed that their records would have been completely destroyed, but it's not impossible that some record of Amalak's species survived. It's not likely, but I'll… Try and find time to check."

"I'm trying to calculate what could cause something like that. It would be very strange. And there's little point; the radiation would have destroyed any data storage unit on the planet that the explosion didn't."

"Unless they had a backup off the planet." I shrug. "It's not very likely, but there are only so many possibilities. How do you want to handle this?"

"Our best information is that the privateers aren't advanced enough to stop even one Lantern. I would surmise that the Reach intend to spread the war as widely as possible, since they have demonstrably failed to stop Lanterns by force."

"Logical enough. Though I think it's more that they've manoeuvred themselves into a corner."

"How so?"

"The Reach don't have allies. They have thralls, slaves and puppets. Who exactly could they get help from?"

"Qward."

"They can buy stuff from Qward. I could probably buy stuff from Emana, that doesn't make us allies."

"Our records on Qward make it clear that this behaviour is out of character for them. You encountered an elite qwardian warrior during the initial negotiations which led to the founding of L.E.G.I.O.N.. It may be that Varnathon has a genuine alliance in mind, and is prepared to take such a risk. He was after all prepared to leave Kalmin alive, which must have involved a certain amount of risk."

"Or he's planning to conquer the Reach from within." I shake my head. "If a Thunderer throws a qwa-bolt at my head you can say that you warned me."

"That doesn't sound productive. If they do, you'll already know. And I think I will take the lead. I'm concerned that my time away from the front line has dulled my reactions. A few years ago I wouldn't have been hit by that neural impacter. But… You saw him, didn't you?"

"I saw hostile intent. The gun was a surprise to me as well."

"And you didn't warn me?"

I shrug. "Your construct armour looked solid enough to me. Are you aware that you can set your ring to move you out of the way of an attack as soon as an attack is detected, without needing a conscious decision from you?"

"Yes, but I'm Coluan."

"You're a Coluan who got shot."

"I can think faster than any-. I can't think faster than a Maltusian AI, can I?"

"I would be surprised. And impressed."

"Follow me."

The stars ripple as she bends space, then she's gone. I give her a moment or two to arrive, then

appear

next to her.

There isn't a base so much as a larger ship with four smaller ones attached limpet style to its hull. Not that unusual a configuration; the larger ship is probably the only one with a faster than light drive, while the others are designed more for agility and sublight speed.

"Attention raiders. This is Lantern Gozzi of the Orange Lantern Corps. Surrender now. This is your only warning."

Construct armour and shield for me, but Lantern Gozzi appears to simply be masking her energy emissions instead. We're far enough away that that's a reasonable response; space is vast, and their guns don't look like the sort to be able to affect a wide enough area to hit us that way.

Ah, yeah, yeah, they're looking, and the generators on the parasite craft are increasing their output. Looks like they're going to try and fight…

I narrow my eyes and try to spot the familiar outline of Reach neural programming. No, but they're all reasonably committed. If the captain says fight, then a fight's going to happen. I might be able to repeat what I did last time and talk the rest of the crew into shooting their commander, but I'm content to let Lantern Gozzi handle this.

She handles it by surging forward, a construct breaching charge blasting a hole in the mother ship's hull to allow her access. I drift in that direction, using her ring to monitor her progress as she engages the crew directly, their weapons failing to penetrate her personal shield as her construct sidearm finds their vital organs. She's already made it to their bridge as I get on board, the few crew who were trying to attack her from behind throwing down their arms as they see me.

"Illustres. Bridge secure. But their database suggests that we may have another problem."

 

[Mr Zoat]

9th July 2012
02:32 GMT

I blink, breath hissing through my teeth.

"Ugh, they're doing a Batarian."

Lantern Gozzi frowns. "Batar-? Ah. No, the Batarian Hegemony were pursuing their own interests. The Leentniar would be more like the Harvesters from Independence Day, mixed with the Travellers from Stargate: Atlantis."

I smile outwardly. "Popular culture has conditioned me to believe that aliens shouldn't understand human pop-culture references. I suppose that power rings bypass that completely."

I don't smile inwardly. What do you do when your neighbour is expansionist, xenocidal and highly skilled at cultural manipulation? You pack up and move, because you can't stop them taking your worlds anyway. You make yourself useful, so that they won't feel the need to wipe you out on principle. You isolate yourselves, so that there's no avenue for their manipulation. And you make sure that you're prepared to move again, because the people behind you haven't stopped being expansionist, xenocidal and highly skilled at cultural manipulation.

You stop having contact with other people, and so stop seeing them as people. You can't build long term fixed structures yourself, and so you take them from the things you've unpeopled.

You don't want the Reach warping your culture, and so you do it for them.

"I don't suppose there's any chance that they kept deliberately misleading information on their computer, is there?"

"Given the level of security and the other layers of more readily accessible false information, it seems unlikely."

Because that means that it's migration time. The raids continue, but now their main fleet is going in to active mode. We don't have particularly good intelligence on them, because the Reach appears to have decided that letting them act as unofficial agent provocateurs is a perfectly viable method. But if they're going active now…

"Anything in there about why?"

"No. That doesn't appear to be how their culture works."

And no survivors amongst the Leentniar. The people who surrendered are local pirate groups they co-opted, in order to increase their plausible deniability. The Leentniar appear to have gone in for some sort of electromagnetic suicide implant, just to make sure that nothing in their brains was readable post-mortem.

Such a waste.

"Nothing about the location of the other raiders, but I suppose they're not our primary concern now."

We won't even need to retask a L.E.G.I.O.N. patrol fleet. I firmly intend to force the Leentniar to negotiate. They can turn their fleet around, they can hide…

Or they can stop existing.

"There are no records here of the fleet's current location. It is most likely-."

"They speak of them as if they are already dead, because that makes it less painful." She looks at me curiously. "Terry Pratchett. Not all cultural artefacts travel between parallel universes. They cut off external contacts with the majority of their people, but these people had external contacts. If they rejoined the community then they'd be a vector for cultural infection. Do they get actual commands from headquarters, or just bulletins?"

"Commands, but they're non-specific. General priorities."

"They unpeople themselves for the greater good. Selfless of them."

"Yes." She presses a button and shifts the display to a map of local space. "Based on the standing orders and assuming that the other raider ships are more or less comparable, I would estimate that there are seventy eight groups operating across this part of the Periphery."

A tiny fragment in three dimensions, until you remember what the scale is.

"Any idea where the main fleet is?"

A button press, and a number of worlds are highlighted.

"Based on their past behaviour and predicted route, these are their most likely targets. These are L.E.G.I.O.N. affiliates, while the rest are not."

"Your suggestion?"

"Leentniar ships are predicted to be weak against Lanterns, but would be utterly devastating if given a clear run at an inhabited world. We can't intercept them as we don't know their location. There are L.E.G.I.O.N. ships in the area, and they have communications gear that will put them in touch with us the moment an attack happens. You and I can take one of the other worlds each and notify all other N.E.M.O. assets once the attack starts."

"What sort of data did this ship have on local defences?"

"A reasonable summary."

"Anything to suggest that they have real time in-system monitoring?"

She takes a moment to review. "Not with any certainty."

"So do we think that these raiders provide intelligence information?"

"The computer storage centres on the raider convoy were annihilated."

"Personal data storage devices?"

"I didn't see any that were intact. But given the general piracy…" She calls up a manifest. "They did take personal computers, but there's no evidence that they were studying them in detail. They would be relatively easy to fence."

"Easy to send home for the analysts, too."

"Where are you going with this?"

"You and I can hide easier than fleets of ships. If we had a flotilla move away from the world they were defending to go after 'pirates', it might lure the Leentniar military in."

"If they knew it had left. I think that depends too much on things we don't know. Unless you do know them."

"I'm afraid not. And I didn't get a good enough look at their-" I glance down at the bodies of the bridge crew. "-mental networks to teleport to their fleet's location reliably."

Hm.

"Seventy eight groups, mostly single large ships and their parasites?"

"That would be my estimation. However, it's just a logical inference based upon the available data, not a true strategic analysis. If some ships have substantially better drives then it could be less. If some are engaging in legitimate work as well then it could be more."

Our rings shimmer for a moment as a L.E.G.I.O.N. patrol vessel arrives to take our prisoners on board. The ships will be studied and salvaged, but a thorough interrogation of the pirates is more likely to yield useful data in the short term.

"I assume there's no data on how they communicated with their superiors?" Lantern Gozzi shakes her head. "Then we'll go for your plan, pending the results of the interrogation. Do you have any preference on the planet?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

9th July 2012
06:35 GMT

I open my eyes, blinking at the light-. I'm in space, right. Ring?

Inbound communication. No movement of Leentniar ships detected.

Answer.

"Illustres. I have… An observation, regarding our situation."

I undo the clamps I used to anchor myself to a piece of rock floating through the system I'm keeping an eye on. I don't have any trouble sleeping in space, but I've yet to develop the skill of sleeping without some sort of surface. Plus, it helps mask my heat and light radiation.

"And what's that?"

"We have both assumed that the Leentniar would continue with their previously observed behaviour. But in this region the Reach have only expanded."

"As opposed to..?"

"Temporarily retreated. The Reach have known setbacks before. The Leentniar simply had the misfortune to be in a region where that hasn't happened."

"Alright."

"L.E.G.I.O.N. ships in this region recently enforced a member world's territorial claims against a Reach 'trade mission'. The Reach-affiliated ships were destroyed or fled."

"And that's the first time they could have seen that?"

"I… Can't say that for certain, but based on their known movement patterns it seems likely."

"So… What, you think they're heading home because they know that the Reach are beatable? That doesn't seem-."

"No, of course not. But it might prompt them to speak to the Reach directly."

"Directly?"

"We don't know how they view the Reach. But they are the only outside influence they allow to affect them."

"I see what you mean. The Reach define how their civilisation works. And we know that the Reach don't have any problem with using auxiliaries. But why would they bother?"

"Additional weaponry or other supplies. Perhaps some form of exotic transportation or an interdiction field bypass."

"To quote Tuvok; 'a logical, though highly speculative, analysis'. And I'm not hearing an application."

"We know where the closest Reach-inhabited worlds are, and we know where the closest 'pacified' worlds are. There could well be records there that would give us more information."

"There would also be fleets, defence networks and scarab warriors."

"There are ways to bypass those."

"Yes, and I'm pretty sure I could manage them. You haven't had that ring for nearly long enough. Do you know how many Orange Lanterns have died in this war so far?"

"Yes. Zero."

"And I intend to keep it that way for a little while longer. The Reach aren't a group of minor pirates who don't bother with data security."

"Neither are the Spider Guild. Or the Psions."

"Only the Psions really compare, and they never had the population, mental flexibility or industrial capacity that the Reach do. Or anything like their experience with Lanterns."

"'Use orange lasers' hardly requires Coluan intellect."

"It does if you actually want to hit anything. Orange lasers barely even work for point defences; they go through constructs."

I pause for a moment to think. I know where the nearest Reach world is without needing to stare into space; unlike Psions, Reachians are actually fairly nice to each other. Unlike the Leentniar they have a functioning civil society. They've pretty much perfected the dual moral standard. Their serfs… I can feel them too, though they have a good deal less orange in them. When we start liberating those worlds I want to make sure that their behaviour is fully documented, so I can use it to browbeat anyone who questions my use of the orange light on a philosophical level.

But with regard to the actual issue under discussion: is it a good idea for me to appear on a Reach world? The Reach know that we can do things like that, but they must also know that there's some sort of limitation to the ability due to the way we don't use it all the time. If I do it carrying no other equipment and… Don't immediately jam all communications and kill all life on the planet, I'll be giving them a good idea that it's a me-only thing. Might be worth suggesting to Dox that I jump a fleet or two around without being outside the ships, so that it looks like it's not dependent on me.

"I'm going to say 'no', not without stronger evidence that we'd actually get something useful out of it."

"I understand. I'll keep working on creating a way to detect their spatial distortion drives at extreme range."

"Any thoughts on whether they'll swarm a place en masse or probe it first?"

"There are no records of them sending in the industrial portions of their fleet until after the target is thoroughly defeated. I believe that they will send a fleet that is strong enough to do the job but which won't be a critical loss if it is destroyed. Are we planning on destroying it?"

"We're having a plan to do that. But my preference is to negotiate either their surrender or an alliance."

"How will our local affiliates feel about that?"

"About as happy as Commodore Amalak was about me negotiating terms with the Spider Guild, I imagine. They might make a noise, but by definition, the people they've acted against are either dead or under Reach dominion now. The worst they've done to anyone in L.E.G.I.O.N. is light commerce raiding, and they can pay reparations for that."

"The Queen had to be comprehensively defeated before she would agree to that."

"The Guildmasters had to be killed before the Queen was in a position to agree to that. And it's not as if I can't defeat the Leentniar. That's just a sub-optimal outcome."

"Will you be encouraging them to agree with you?"

"No. Quite aside from the fact that a culture secure enough to fend off Reach social conditioning efforts would have protocols in place to prevent me doing that, I want to make it an honest choice."

"As you did with the Citadelians."

"Quite. There's a book I read a few years ago. I think it was called 'Hyperion'..? Something like that. One of the characters had an interesting interpretation of a famous passage from one of my planet's religious books. The classical interpretation is that by not forcing Abraham to sacrifice Isaac, God showed mercy to a faithful man. The reinterpretation was that Abraham wanted to know if this new god was worth worshipping. If he maintained his demand for human sacrifice then he clearly wasn't. Abraham was genuinely willing to kill his son to gain that knowledge; God demonstrated that he was worth worshipping by not insisting that he go through with it."

"Both I and the orange light respect people who follow their desires. That doesn't mean giving them free rein under any circumstances. Some desires are mutually exclusive. If a person wants to stay true to their faith rather than amend it and live, I respect that. And I kill them, or they kill me. I only ask people to think things through before committing. I-."

My ring blinks again, images of the Leentniar ships momentarily replacing Lantern Gozzi's head. Not in a system either of us are in, but we can get there before they reach the only inhabited planetoid.

"Will continue this later."