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

[Mr Zoat]

24th January 2006
08:15 GMT -5

Komand'r glares at me, though given her current mood swings it's a lot less intimidating than it used to be.

"Why not?!"

"Komand'r, love of my life, mother of my children-."

She folds her arms across her chest and looks away.

"Child. You get one. I watched those videos and I'm not going through that more than once."

"We don't know how many you're having this time."

The corners of her mouth turn downwards, and her eyes widen as her head slowly turns back towards me.

"That's wonderful-."

She blinks, grimaces, then flies over to a nearby asteroid, which she viciously headbutts! The asteroid explodes, flying out across the void, a small number of fragments entering Zamaron's atmosphere below us.

That-. That's probably not going to reach the ground.

"Gah! Stupid rock!"

"Komand'r, stop trying to injure yourself. High stress levels are bad for the baby."

Her hands go to her abdomen and for a second her face is a picture of horror. Then she jerks her hands to her side and glares at me again.

"No taking advantage of my baby brain!"

"I'm not going to hit you whenever you start being nice to people."

"You're being stupid." She rolls her eyes. "I know you're not strong enough to actually hurt me with your fist. You can use that electric rod thing you used in Polokistan."

"I'm not going to-."

"Why not? You used it on me before."

Our one foray into bondage. It doesn't really work when one party is as tough as she is and the psychology is different when that party used to be an actual slave.

"Komand'r, it only lasts a couple of months. Then you'll be back to normal."

"But what if I've lost my edge by then?!"

I float over to her, taking her hands in mine.

"Komand'r, you have achieved a level of spitefulness which surpasses every Tamaranean before you. I assure you: you have more than enough bitchiness to get through this with your character intact."

"You're being so nice about-."

Her face twitches, then she raises her right fist and-.

I wrap a construct manacle around her right forearm and pull it away with construct chains before she can follow through on her initial impulse to punch herself in the head.

"N-."

And then I grab her left forearm with another manacle.

"No. Komand'r, stop."

She tries pulling against them for a moment, but while she can make progress she can't make her arms move anything like fast enough to hit herself. After a moment she realises that too and sags in her bonds.

I float closer so that our heads are level. She's looking down, avoiding my eyes. I reach out with my right hand and gently tilt her head back up, meeting my concerned gaze with an expression of tiredness. She looks wrung out, actually. It's a surprising moment of honesty; she usually hates showing weakness like this.

"Komand'r, talk to me."

"'m scared."

"Okay. What about?"

"You make me feel… Things. And that's… Okay. I didn't… I didn't like it to start with, but it's-. It's fine. But now my own body's doing it without you even being there. I've liked people before so liking you more isn't that big a deal but this is-. I don't like everyone. It's like there's this alien thing in me that's changing who I am. It's like the-."

She squirms.

"It's like the Gordanians."

Ahh…

Komand'r… Hasn't wanted to talk about exactly what happened while she and her sister were slaves. And since we burned their civilisation to the ground I didn't think it was worth pressing her over; violence is a great healer.

It seems I was mistaken. That… Or we didn't kill quite enough, I suppose.

"There might be a way to stop it. Some sort of hormone regulating impl-."

"There isn't. And if there ever was it was one of the things that we lost when Tamaran got burned."

A red ring… Might work. She'd certainly end up getting all of her anger back. But I'm not sure what the ritual would do to the foetus. The other alternative…

"Do you not want to have this child?"

She rolls her eyes. "It's a bit late-." She blinks as I raise my eyebrows. "Oh. No, no, I don't-. That's not-. No."

"Okay. I want to have children with you. Do-."

"And I want to have children with you!"

She blinks, her hands coming up to cover her mouth and her eyes giving the impression that she hadn't intended to say that.

"Was that you or the hormones?"

"Iiiiiiiii think it was me."

Hm.

"Look, you know this isn't like what the Gordanians did, because unsettling though it is it's something that every Tamaranean mother has gone through at least once. I'm sure that you'll rise to this challenge as you have every other. Or are you going to keep whining about it like a little bitch who doesn't know what she wants?"

Her eyes glow.

"I'll show you who's a bitch."

Glowing red horns appear on my forehead.

"I'm not as fragile as I used to be."

"Um."

We both turn, and see the small crowd of Zamarons gathered to watch us.

"We were going to castigate you about the meteorite. But this looks far more interesting."

 

[Mr Zoat]

Maladaptive

21st July 2012
08:47 GMT -7

"No, no, not the fights."

I shake my head as Lantern Rrab splits her attention between me and the Coast City traffic below us.

"I mean Earth societies. The way Earth civilisation works. I know what the fights are like, but I've never lived anywhere else for any length of time."

"Does this have something to do with why you sent me that book concerning… Human… Intimate relations?"

"Sort of. Any society is going to have to have laws against theft and assault in order to function, but rules and customs concerning personal conduct can… Vary more. Something that's perfectly normal where you come from might be highly offensive to people somewhere else, without there being an obvious sign you could see in advance. And since I've never been to your homeworld, I felt that a primer might help you avoid some of... You heard about the-?"

"The spider?" She ducks her head as she smiles. "Yes."

"So you see where I'm coming from."

"According to Ghia'ta, it's your behaviour towards Zatanna that I should avoid copying."

"So avoid copying it. But I wasn't just wondering whether or not you find humans attractive, because I know that you do. But relationships between people from different cultures can be awkward, and that's only made bigger if-."

"But you got me a book on relationships." Her eyes narrow slightly. "If Wonder Woman or Troia lassoed you and I asked you why you chose that subject, what would you say?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Green Lanterns must learn to be criminal investigators. Not every criminal will fly up to us wearing a colourful costume. So I've been spending time with Robin. He says that if someone volunteers something then they're probably thinking about it."

"Jordan's a good man. As my culture defines that concept. And that's not the only-"

Her eyes widen. "A-ahh…"

"-reasonable definition of good, and… I can understand why-."

"I didn't need-." She nods. "Hal's always been very clear about how he sees me. Even his mother's been mothering me."

"Okay. I'll consider that handled-."

"Ghia'ta thinks I should still… Try to change his mind. Slowly."

"Ghia'ta is a wonderful and undoubtably well-intentioned person. However, I think that she's been… Adversely affected by growing up in a single colour monocultural environment. Intellectually, I appreciate-."

Her ring blinks, then her eyes shimmer. Her eyes drop to the roads below us at once.

"Something important?"

"A report of dangerous driving."

I nod. Dangerous driving isn't necessarily a serious crime by itself, until the dangerousness overflows into vehicular manslaughter. And stopping a car is much less easy for normal police than it is for-

Lantern Rrab stoops and swoops, diving down towards one of the city's main thoroughfares.

-us. I wait a moment as I have my ring analyse patterns of traffic movement-. There we are. And then I raise my right forefingers to my forehead,

step out

and reappear just ahead of the hurtling car. They're driving fast, but a quick scan of the objects and vehicles that they've passed shows no damage at all. I watch as they weave around traffic at an intersection with considerable skill. If they're getting someone to hospital-.

I frown at the confused mess of entrapment and-. The man inside the car is banging on the sunroof, his hands off the steering wheel which is turning on its own. His foot's off both the accelerator and brake pedals but I can see the car do both.

Automatic drive system gone very wrong?

Lantern Rrab swoops down, a band of green energy reaching out and forming a car lift construct under the car. The car tries to swerve again as she lifts it clear of the road and up into the Coast City sky.

Huh. Clearly something odd going on there, but I'll let Lantern Rrab take the lead.

She flies level with the driver side window and looks at the man inside. Who rather than winding the window down and explaining himself instead beats his fists against the inside of the window. But no sound gets transmitted through the glass. Lantern Rrab frowns, then scans the door, light seeping around the locking mechanism.

Lantern Rrab looks confused. "I've forced the lock but the door's still stuck."

And the wheels are still turning. Continuing to look like automatic control gone wrong, except that I can't detect a control signal or any way to receive it. A more detailed scan of the car reveals no automatic drive system. It doesn't even have an automatic gearbox.

"I suggest cutting through the glass."

"Do human cars do this?"

"Not usually. This car doesn't appear to have any self-drive systems."

A protractor construct appears and scratches a circle in the glass. The man inside realises what Lantern Rrab is about to do and climbs into the back seat. Once he's clear the protractor spins up, slowly eating through the glass-.

There's a crack as it punches through, a neat circle of glass falling into the car.

"Oh thank God!" The man leans through the gap between the front seats. "Can you get me out of here?"

"The door's stuck; I'll have to rip it off."

"Go right ahead! I'm insured!"

Lantern Rrab nods, and a mechanical clamp construct unfolds on each side of the door, connected to a large robotic arm. The arm strains for a moment and then there's a tearing noise as the door comes free.

I extend a filament to the passenger and lift him out while Lantern Rrab scans the car.

"Sir?" He glances down at the city below us before returning his attention to me. "Do you know what happened?"

"The f-. Car started driving itself! I got in and turned the ignition, then the doors locked and it took off!"

"Do you know where it was heading?"

"That was… That was the route I usually take to work. But I never drive like that!"

"Did the car say anything to you?"

"Just the radio. It was playing, I didn't… Turn it on."

Curious. I turn to Lantern Rrab.

"It's your case. But I suggest taking this gentleman to his place of work."

She nods. "We'll start there."

 

[Mr Zoat]

21st July 2012
08:52 GMT -7

Lantern Rrab sets the rogue car down in the car park, letting the wheels touch the tarmac while still keeping hold of it just in case. But the wheels remain stationary-

"You have arrived at your destination. Have a nice day."

-and… And that came from the radio because the car doesn't have satellite navigation. Ring, are any radio stations in the area playing that at the moment?

None found.

I set Steven McCrae down next to his car, which he looks at with a degree of uncertainty.

"So… What do I do with it now?"

Lantern Rrab shrugs. "It's your car, sir." She takes-. I feel a moment of pride as she takes a rune stone out of one of her pockets and holds it out towards the car. Nothing. "I can't detect anything wrong with it, and you clearly weren't in control of what the vehicle was doing. I'll submit a report to the police. I can either leave the car here with you, or I can take it to the police impound yard so they can try investigating it."

"You can't find anything wrong with it?"

Hm. I send filaments into the car, poking through the interior plastic and metal and into the car's interior mechanisms. Just in case there's some sort of scan-blocking system. No, everything's more or less where it should be. There's a little bit of wear and a little bit of rust… Nothing that would stop it being road-legal, but that does suggest that what I'm detecting is what's actually there.

"Not a thing, I'm afraid."

I use a construct to take the door from Lantern Rrab, then reattach it. I leave the circle of glass out, because he might want to shout for help if that happens again.

"Cars don't just decide to drive themselves." He then looks uncertain. "Do they?"

"Not in my experience. Lantern Rrab?"

"Auto-drive's not that uncommon on advanced worlds, and sometimes they go badly wrong. But on Earth that sort of thing only really happens because people follow instructions from their navigation aides when they shouldn't."

"Is there a car-god or something?"

"Not that I'm aware of, though there probably will be one eventually."

Might be worth having Vulcan take a look at it, if nothing else turns up. He's got more car experience than Hephaestus.

"So you've got no way to know whether that'll just happen again or not?"

Lantern Rrab shakes her head.

"Not at this time. Orange Lantern?"

"The… Only possibility that comes to mind is a build-up of magic in the environment which 'caught' your car while it was passing through. That wouldn't explain why only you were affected, but it would explain why we can't find a trace on the car itself; it would only be there while the effect was active."

"So how do I stop it happening again?"

"I suggest an offering to Hephaestus."

"I'm Christian."

"Then I suggest an offering to Saint Frances of Rome."

"Ah… I'd have to check with my pastor whether we acknowledge him or not."

"Don't bother; it wouldn't work anyway."

"Heh." He bows his head. "Shit. You better take it. Just… Ah." He fishes a business card out of his jacket and hands it to Lantern Rrab. "Just let me know where it ends up so I can pick it up when they're done. You know, I… I've got the company medical today. Just hope my heart rate doesn't mess it up."

"I'm sure you'll be fine."

Lantern Rrab nods. "Have a nice day, sir. And good luck with your medical examination."

We both rise off the ground, Lantern Rrab carrying the car with her.

"Hephaestus?"

"Olympian god of the forge. Nice chap. Do you have a contact in the police?"

"Yes… But I don't think that the local police are going to find anything."

"Probably not. But it's their job to try. And they will be looking for the car -and us- by now." I look at her with my eyebrows raised. "What do you want to do?"

"Tell them what's happening, and then… Can we ask Hephaestus to look at it? Since we know it's not technology or regular magic."

I nod, eyebrows returning to the 'at rest' position.

"I suggest checking with the police first. And probably with Lantern Jordan."

She nods.

"Funny thing. I've got a medical examination coming up, too. Though I imagine that mine will be a little more thorough."

"With who? The Justice League?"

"No, the Controllers."

She frowns at me. "They didn't do that already?"

"Hinon Hee Hannanan did a quick check-up, but given what's happened to me I thought that it was a good idea to get something more in depth."

"When I got to Oa, that was the first thing that happened."

That surprises me. Power rings have built-in translators because it's virtually impossible for a Lantern to learn the hundreds of languages they'd need to in order to communicate with everyone in their assigned Sector. For much the same reason, the Green Lantern Corps doesn't have a chief medical officer. It's virtually impossible for anyone to have the necessary training to know how to treat all of the different species that make up the Corps.

"I thought that they usually leave medical matters to the Lantern's homeworld's physicians?"

"For long term things. But your partner might need to get told how to do first aid or field surgery, so they need a record of your exact state of health. Why doesn't the Orange Lantern Corps do that?"

I shrug.

"If an Orange Lantern is conscious, they can use their ring to heal themselves. And… Clarissi Dox organised the standard recruitment process. He tries to avoid me if he doesn't need me."

"Why?"

"I got him the job, am more powerful than him and I bailed him out when our first attack on the Reach went wrong. I undermine his authority, and neither of us want Corps members being confused about who's in charge. You contact the police, I contact Vulcan?"

She nods, then holds up her ring. "Call Jeremiah Jordan."

I lift my left hand to my left ear.

"Call Zencha Automotive."

"Calling."

"Yeah?"

"Good afternoon. Could you put me through to Seth Lans?"

"He's busy. Who is this?"

"A friend of his brother's. And I have a very interesting job for him."

 

[Mr Zoat]

21st July 2012
16:34 GMT

We lost a little time getting the car towed, because though I don't set much store by them myself I know that Vulcan likes his secret identity. My hair is currently red and Lantern Rrab is using a holographic disguise to alter her skin tone while her hair is hair sprayed solid to conceal her ears. She could get away with faintly orange skin in the Fake Tan State, but here in Italy it would stick out quite badly.

"How exactly do you know Seth?"

The owner of the place, Antonio Zencha, is perfectly happy to accept his most capable mechanic's oddities in return for excellent work and -according to Vulcan- copious amounts of unpaid overtime. But he can't help but be curious about a couple of people turning up with no notice and getting bumped to the head of the queue.

"I met his brother in Greece. He referred me."

I've set my ring to translate me into Italian but with a strong English accent. Really, I shouldn't have bothered. English schools teach French, German and Spanish at GCSE level but I heard more about Latin lessons than Italian ones. Me being fluent -even with an accent- doesn't make sense. I mean, Vulcan told me how to get in contact if I needed to, but I treated secret identity lessons in the same way as I treated hand to hand combat lessons; I listened when I had to and paid it no mind afterwards.

Mr. Zencha nods. It's plausible, but there's obviously a big gap between 'I met his brother' and 'it was worth me coming here to get him to look at my car'.

"You-?"

"Hey Mister Lans!"

Lantern Rrab walks across Mr. Zencha's line of sight as Vulcan emerges from his workshop. Mr. Zencha's eyes follow her bare legs and-. And I roll my eyes, deliberately step sideways to block his view and then walk towards Vulcan myself.

Vulcan frowns at Lantern Rrab for a moment. He's never met her and she isn't on the invite list. On the other hand, he can almost certainly tell that she isn't human, and the lack of any innate magic is going to suggest 'alien'. I am in the know so she should get a pass…

"Hello. Car playing up?"

"Yes! It's like it's trying to drive itself!"

"Oh. That doesn't sound too complicated." He waves to Mr. Zencha. "I've got this, Antonio. Shouldn't take long."

Clearly still curious, but with no casus inquisiti he decides that he can't justify hanging around when he's got a business to run. He walks back to the front office and Vulcan watches the driver of the recovery lorry finish unloading the car.

"Here okay?"

Vulcan nods, waving him off. "That's great, Giuseppe. You have a nice day."

"Until we meet again."

Giuseppe gets back in the driving seat, Vulcan smiling and waving until he pulls out of the garage and back onto the road. Then Vulcan turns to us.

"What's the problem, then?"

"The owner got in the car to drive to work this morning, and the car locked him in and drove itself. Not only does it not have a self-drive system, but it doesn't even have integrated computer control. There's no mechanical way it can have happened, and we can't detect a trace of magic."

"Hm."

Vulcan walks over to the car and lays his hand on the bonnet.

"I don't know much about nanotechnology."

"I-" I shake my head. "-do. Someone could use an assembler swarm to build links, but they'd still be there. Or the nanotech would. Nanobots are fragile; the only working assembler I know of on Earth has to use molecular vibration control technology to keep them intact whenever they do anything energy intensive."

Vulcan nods. "So you think it's a spontaneous manifestation. That is up my street. You got the key?"

Lantern Rrab makes a key construct and offers it to him. He takes it, pulls open the door and puts it into the ignition.

"Hm. I can't feel anything obvious, but you already checked for that."

He gets in, turning the key and switching on the radio. It's not digital and isn't tuned to any Italian stations, so all that it emits is quiet static. He waits a moment, then lays both hands on the wheel and frowns thoughtfully.

"Yes. Yes, I do recognise this. Heph once showed me a weapon that Queen Hippolyta remote controlled-." He looks at me. "You know who her father is?"

"Yes."

"She doesn't use it much, but she's got some of his power over tools of war. This car feels like her old sword did."

"So there is a God of Cars?"

"No. Not yet."

Lantern Rrab gives her head a small shake.

"What do you mean by that?"

Vulcan gets out of the car, walks around to the front and opens the bonnet.

"They're ubiquitous. Useful. Status symbols. But most people don't understand them. There are rules and rituals; it's a shame that Atlanteans haven't studied how mechanical objects gain arcane momentum." He looks at the engine as it idles, holding his right hand out to feel either the temperature or the magic. Or both, presumably. "They're too specific for a titan, but I wouldn't be surprised if a God of Cars emerged from the Dream eventually. Or an existing god rebranded."

"Re..? Branded? Gods can just choose to be a god of something else?"

"No, no." He shakes his head, frowning as he focuses his attention on the battery. "But a God of Journeys could try to associate themselves with cars rather than… Horses, or ships. It doesn't always take, and if their cult is already extinct then it's probably too late, but gods have managed to switch before. It got pretty common when Christianity was spreading across Europe and all the little tribal gods wanted a safe harbour."

I blink. "Wait, you're saying that the whole 'turning gods into saints' thing was their idea?"

"Of course." He looks my way, apparently surprised that I'm surprised. "It wasn't even the first time for a lot of them. One tribe conquers another… The losing war god needs to find himself a niche or he'll probably get killed. It's just the single biggest campaign of role-switching, and why Ēostre wears a bunnygirl outfit these days." He grins. "Which isn't something you forget, let me tell you."

"Have you done that?"

"Sure. Metallurgy was a change for me. I used to be a god of fire and volcanoes. But you see the link." She nods. "One of you, put this on the car lift."

Hm? Oh. I check our environment, then pick up the car and put it on the already-raised car lift. Vulcan walks underneath it and takes a look at the underside.

"Yeah, I think I see what happened. Did whoever owned this car live next to an old road?"

"It was in America, so no, but I know what you mean. Spontaneous manifestation?"

"It feels like that. But it doesn't sound like that. How was it driving?"

"Fast, and it ignored traffic laws. It didn't hit anything, but there were a lot of near misses."

"Yeah. That doesn't track. A manifestation should still be steerable, just stiff. Cars have always been designed to be steered. And all the Neo-Vodun stuff I've read insists that cross roads are ritual focuses. It shouldn't cross one when it's not supposed to. My best guess right now is that someone induced a manifestation and directed it. This guy have any enemies?"

"Not that we know of."

"Does he know any pranksters? It doesn't sound like they were trying to kill him, just shake him up."

"We'll check, but America doesn't have a lot of magicians and those it does have are usually traditionalists."

"I'll take a deeper look, but that'll take a while." He waves us off. "Come back tomorrow, see what I have then."

 

[Mr Zoat]

18th September 2010
17:33 GMT -5

"…concern that it was even practical to make the attempt."

Batman closes the holographic windows showing scenes from the attempted mass break out from Belle Reve, leaving us with the diagram of the site.

"The exercise for today will involve you studying the security arrangements for Belle Reve Penitentiary and suggesting improvements. These will be reviewed by the Justice League, and the best will be forwarded to the Department of Justice."

Wallace -whose attention had been wavering when he realised that there wasn't a mission or a physical exercise planned- suddenly comes alert again and grins at Richard. Richard smirks back, already tapping the buttons on his arm computer which will call up the pertinent data.

"If you require more information than is in the database, you may submit the requests yourself. Dismissed." Batman deactivates the holoscreen and heads for the zeta tube.

Richard immediately connects his computer to the cave's holographic systems, generating a three dimensional model of the prison grounds as the rest of us form an arc to look at it.

Kon shrugs. "I dunno. It all looks pretty solid to me."

"Can't be that secure." Richard's eyes dart mischievously towards him. "Batman stuck you in."

Artemis's eyes narrow. "Do people just not do fingerprints any more? Or blood tests? You're both aliens; they should have known that you weren't the Terrors."

I raise my eyebrows. "Did Batman arrange things through official channels?"

Richard shakes his head. "Couldn't take the risk of tipping someone off. Had to make the switch on-site."

Artemis's mouth falls open slightly. "Seriously? So no one checked who-" She turns to Kon and M'gann. "-the two of you were between you getting arrested and being taken to Belle Reve?"

"Well…" M'gann looks uncomfortable as she shakes her head. "No. I… Guess they just trust the Justice League to give them the.. right.. people..?"

I nod. "I am reminded of the Parable of the Red Hood."

Wallace blinks, then rolls his eyes. "You wanna explain that, Oh El?"

Richard tries to work it out first.

"The Joker started out calling himself the Red Hood. But he always goes to Arkham. Can't see a parable there."

"The Joker started out as a failed comedian a pre-existing gang hired to be the fall guy. They stuck a red helmet on his head and called him 'boss' when the police were listening. He'd never fired a gun before that evening, and he wasn't even the first person they'd hired to act in that capacity."

"tchk-Hah!" Artemis gasp-laughs in disbelief. "Seriously? That's how the Joker started out?"

Richard tilts his head to the left. "So his first night out was the Ace Chemical Processing Plant theft?" I nod, and he grimaces. "I guess that explains why he thinks everything is a joke. But I'm still not seeing the Parable."

"The police assumed that the one person in the mask was the main threat. The leader. They let their schema run without checking anything. The Justice League are honest, so there's no need to check that the people they hand over are who they say they are. Even in a world of shapeshifters, telepaths, mind altering magic and-" I raise my eyebrows at Kon. "-hair dye."

Kaldur nods. "In Atlantis, the identities of prisoners would be confirmed with magic at each stage of their transfer. I do not think that the American prison system has enough magicians for that to be practical."

Wallace looks thoughtful for a moment. "No, but there are some super-fast blood test machines that could check blood groups. And fingerprint and iris recognition scanners. Belle Reve could use those to check prisoners on the way in."

That makes sense. "How expensive are those?"

Richard brings up a new screen. "Not that expensive, actually. The fastest DNA analyser that exists can do a work-up in about four hours, but it's the size of a small building and costs…" He blinks. "They could probably build another prison. But the rest is easily under their budget."

Kaldur nods. "And magic?"

Artemis shrugs. "Where are they gunna find that many wizards?"

I raise my eyebrows. "What is the dollar to Atlantean drachma exchange rate?"

Kaldur bows his head slightly. "There is not enough trade between the two countries for a rate of exchange to have been established. But if we were to use the value of the metal, a single drachma is approximately four grams of silver."

I nod. "About three dollars. Would Atlantis be willing to allow America to hire Atlantean wizards, assuming the Department of Justice could match their salaries?"

"I cannot think of a reason why my king would have an objection in principle, though such an agreement would have to be negotiated at the highest levels."

"Okay." Richard nods. "Better prisoner IDs. But that doesn't help with corrupt members of staff, power suppressors not working or just the fact that most of the prisoners are really dangerous."

"Maybe… It just… Can't be fixed."

Richard smiles. "I'll let Batman know. Good job, team!"

"No, no, I mean… We can't make a prison completely secure. People can be corrupted or threatened. Computers can be hacked. Walls can be blasted down. Heck, if Mister J'onzz hadn't scanned Hugo Strange's mind he might have ended up as Warden, and that would have been a disaster. Short of creating a religious cult of prison guards who can't conceive of the idea of not doing their jobs with fanatical devotion, there's no decision-making body that can't be… Worked around."

Kaldur looks at me. "Then what do you suggest?"

"I read a story a while ago, where a space-faring race had to deal with fanatically violent prisoners of war. The prison camp they built consisted of a series of air tight cells built on an airless planet. There was an automated system for removing waste and bringing them food, and they could communicate via the computer network. But they were never face to face with other prisoners or guards. They couldn't escape because there was nowhere to escape to. If they broke out of their cell they would die of vacuum exposure within a minute or two. The only way to leave was for a space craft to dock with their cell."

Wallace frowns. "You wanna move the prisoners off Earth?"

"Their aim was to break through the concrete and steel of Belle Reve, then run for it in Louisiana. They worked around all of the security, which is…" I gesture at the screen. "Actually pretty good, for the most part. It wouldn't be all that expensive to build a system to send prisoners to… The surface of Mars? Or T-"

M'gann frowns. "Hey!"

"-itan by zeta tube. What, Martians don't use the surface of Mars."

"That doesn't mean we want all of Earth's most dangerous prisoners sent to us!"

"Alright. The Moon or Titan."

"What about-" Kon shrugs. "-the gravity?"

"What about it? They would probably get some muscle wastage, but honestly? By the time people are getting sent to Belle Reve-. Hang on." I call up the reoffending figures for people sent to Belle Reve. Yeah. "By the time people get sent to Belle Reve, they've pretty much missed the window for rehabilitating them. I don't see how them coming back weaker is a bad thing."

"I…" Richard frowns thoughtfully. "Don't know. Zeta tubes draw a lot of power. And I don't think the DoJ is allowed to ship prisoners outside of the US. But they could use zeta tubes to move prisoners and guards around. With teleportation there's no need for individual cells to be connected to… Anything, really."

Kaldur nods. "I believe this warrants further consideration."

 

[Mr Zoat]

24th January 2006
08:23 GMT -5

Zamaron is busier than I was expecting. Towers in the styles of a dozen species cover the planet, interspersed at apparently random intervals with cultivated areas of greenery. I can even see what appears to be a vertical farm in skyscraper form, a hollow column of greenery covered in flowers and fruit.

The Zamarons themselves are easy enough to spot. The ones acting as our escort all look like human women in hoplite armour, their hair done up in curls. But I've caught sight of others dressed the same way but wearing faces of other species. They're still all women and all humanoid, but I've seen blue, purple, orange and yellow skin, two eyes, four and six, conventionally attractive and unconventionally… Unconventional.

I assume. I don't know all of these species.

There are plenty of aliens, too, male and female and children. Though none are in the air as the Zamarons appear to all be, and there's a certain… Distance between the two groups even when they're close together. I haven't seen any non-humanoids yet, but we've only flown over a relatively small part of one urban area. I also haven't seen any male Zamarons, Guardians, Controllers, or any other Maltusians.

Komand'r doesn't look impressed.

"What's so great about this place?"

"It's not quite what I was expecting. But-."

"What were you expecting?"

"More violet crystal. And fewer men."

One of the Zamarons looks around, her artfully styled left eyebrow arched.

"The crystals are for the direction and storage of energy. Why would we make buildings with them?"

"Why do the Guardians make all their buildings look like giant lanterns?"

She rolls her eyes.

"A truly mortifying lack of imagination. Why do you think we dumped them?"

Blackfire wrinkles her nose. "Aren't Guardians, like, three-" She makes a 'you must be this high' gesture with her right hand. "-feet tall? And don't they all look like babies?"

The Zamaron huffs. "Those characteristics didn't help." Then she smiles. "Now we attract paramours from across the universe! Most of whom have feelings they don't mind talking about, a reasonable knowledge of armour couture and an acceptance that we're more important than their stupid Lantern Corps!"

Ah.

"Bad break up?"

"I'm perfectly fine! Why does EVERYONE say I'm not?!"

I.. look awkwardly at one of the other Zamarons, who subtly shakes her head and makes a 'stop' gesture. I nod, and float away from Unexploded Zamaron and towards head-shaking Zamaron.

"I wanted to talk to someone about holding our wedding here. Is that really something I need to speak to your current Queen about?"

"Weddings are a celebration of love, one of the two most important things in Zamaron society."

Komand'r frowns in a 'I'm nearly interested' sort of way.

"Oh? What's the other one?"

"Punching people in the face."

"Huh?"

"I'm one point two billion years old. Have you got any idea how many cities I've seen? Heck, this is the seven hundredth one I've seen just at this geographic location alone. Seriously, razed to the ground, built up again, seven hundred times. Only two things still make me feel alive: genuine emotional attachment to another intelligent being." She smiles beatifically. "And the brutal rush-" Her expression becomes a little more manic. "-of bloody combat."

Komand'r nods. "Oh, I totally get you. This… 'Love' thing's kind of new for me, but I've always liked fighting."

The Zamaron glances my way. "He is your first?"

Komand'r hesitates.

"When you say first..?"

"The first person for whom you have felt romantic love."

"Oh! Yeah, definitely."

"You don't sound very convincing."

Komand'r huffs.

"Ugh, fine. He's the first person I think I can be completely honest with, the first I trust enough to be w-." Twitch. "Vuln-." Twitch. "I don't have to constantly assert myself when I'm around him. Who I know will be there for me because he's proven that he loves me too, who I can trust not to abuse that trust."

The Zamaron looks at me.

"And can she?"

"You're not going to ask me if she's my first?"

She shrugs. "I probably would if I was being fair, but we picked female forms for a reason and I'm not."

Komand'r frowns at her. "I am." She looks curiously at me. "I never asked that. Am I?"

"Yes. I love your passion, your fury-."

"That's just a tamaranean thing. I want to hear about me."

"I've never been more alive than in the time I've known you. Your adventurousness, your vivacity, your determination to wring every bit of excitement out of life made me actually embrace what we do rather than stumble from job to job out of a sense of obligation, or… Because I couldn't think of anything better to do. Heck, the way I put aside all of my reservations about letting my anger and hate run free, the.. whole way I was able to channel the Lesser Sign of the Butcher… That was you, what you showed me."

Komand'r's eyes are wide and watery as she drifts over to me and lays her hands on my chest.

"Awww…"

And then head-shaking Zamaron drops a pair of necklaces over our heads.

We both blink, pulling away slightly to look at… The glowing violet crystal attached to each of them.

"Congratulations! You're married."

…

Okay. That's.. why we're here… But…

"Isn't there supposed to be a ceremony?"

"Usually we send a couple who want to be married by us on an epic quest to prove their worth and test their love, but we heard about Vega and you two have pretty much done all that. The Queen can officiate a ceremony with guests if you want, but this is the important bit. Two people who complete each other finding each other."

I think I-. I close my eyes-. I can feel Komand'r through the violet crystal. Komand'r blinks as she realises the same thing.

I hold out my left hand to her.

"Let's go and see the Queen."

 

[Mr Zoat]

22nd July 2012
09:03 GMT -5

"…where the laws of physics can just change whenever they feel like it!"

Kara's diatribe ends and she takes a deep breath. But there's no red glow from her eyes and she hasn't crushed anything.

"Technically, the laws of physics aren't changing. You're just-."

"Yes, I… Know. I'm just seeing a new subset. But this.. isn't something Krypton had to deal with. There aren't any meta-kryptonians. And we haven't had any wizards for centuries."

"You had wizards?"

"Supposedly. Back in our ancient history. But… I don't know if they actually used magic or just science more advanced than what their contemporaries had."

I think for a moment.

"When Krypton was at its most extroverted, did you encounter any aliens who used magic?"

She shakes her head. "One species with minor telepathic abilities, which we studied and learned to replicate technologically."

"You-? Have you told Ted about that? Because-."

"Yes, but the Thinker's Cap is already more advanced than what we had. The difference is that everyone who worked on it understood how and why it worked."

"Still stuck on that?"

"It's not that we're stuck, it's that we have a working device that we don't fully understand. If it's supposed to induce telepathy, how is it giving Bobo the ability to communicate in complex sentences? I'm not entirely comfortable with how enthusiastic humans are about finding uses for devices they don't completely understand."

"Do you understand every device you use?"

She blinks.

"Yes."

"And on Krypton?"

"Not all of them; I was still in school. But everything I used on a regular basis."

"Huh. I'm impressed. Was that an approach that was debated, or did it just seem natural to every kryptonian?"

"Kryptonians prac-. Practiced oligarchical democracy. We debate everything. But I don't remember any serious debate over.. basic knowledge." She frowns in bewilderment. "How do you even..? Live like that?"

"We accept the cargo cult."

"I don't think I understand exactly what that means. Why would anyone worship cargo?"

I bow my head, smiling. Of course a species like the Kryptonians wouldn't have an equivalent phrase. "To use a light switch, you need to be able to work the light switch. To use it for something, you need to know that pressing the button will switch the light from on to off or off to on. A person who's never seen a light switch before can work that out without any knowledge of the underlying mechanisms. But without that knowledge, if the filament in the bulb breaks and the light no longer works, all they're left with is the idea that they're not pressing the button in the right way."

"Or they could just study the bulb."

"Building an understanding of electrical theory from a device when they can only study the exterior and don't have the underlying knowledge?"

She hesitates as she realises the difficulty.

"Then you've got things like the Windows operating system. When my computer crashes… I mean, back on Earth Prime, I'd just restart it and assume that would fix the problem. I had no idea what the problem was or why restarting the computer fixed it…" I shrug. "But it did. And then you've got the problem that magic can literally work like that."

"It's amazing you developed science at all."

"As the Sivanas are so fond of insisting, just because it's magic that doesn't mean that you can't study it scientifically."

"Unless you're an-" She puts her right hand on her chest. "-alien, and can't do magic at all."

"What about that.. Torquasm stuff you were learning with Angelika?"

"That's not the same thing at all. Torquasm is just learning to take control of mechanisms in our mind which and I see what you mean."

"Finding it useful?"

She nods.

"Yeah. I'm.. sleeping better, and… I'm not good at it yet, but… It really puts things in… Perspective, I guess."

"Have you spoken to Lantern Yat?"

"No." She frowns thoughtfully. "I think he's a bit young to benefit from it."

"No, I meant… In the sense of there being a planet of other members of your species still out there. Or… Him not having a model of how to be kryptonian in an advanced civilisation."

"He's the one who can fly faster than light. But I suppose it would be interesting to hear what their civilisation is like; how it's changed since they left Krypton."

"You could visit. Kal-El's never been all that interested: the cultural separation is just too great. But… For you…"

"I'm not.. planning on restarting Kryptonian civilisation. I'm happy here."

"You're happy?"

She nods, smiling. "I actually am. No more gold kryptonite, interesting work, friends… I even put on the House El colors during the war with the Sheeda."

"I know; I've got a picture. But… You know what else yellow sunlight exposure does to kryptonians?"

"What?"

"Longevity. We won't need to clone replacement organs for you. As long as you come back every so often, you'll keep going for a very long time."

"So I need a long term goal. A really long term goal."

"You don't need to pick one in a hurry, but… Yes. If you plan on staying in Sol."

"I… Guess… Kordtech is doing a lot of work with magic. It could be interesting to become the first kryptonian in thousands of years to use magic."

I nod. "You've got time to work it out."

"Okay, that's enough about me. What are you up to?"

"Taking it easy in preparation for a full medical investigation. Oh, and we had a car with no self-drive system drive itself to its destination yesterday."

"How?"

"We don't know yet, but it's not an isolated incident. There has been a significant increase worldwide in technological devices behaving oddly over the past few weeks, and I want to look into it. Are you available to help me?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

22nd July 2012
11:03 GMT -6

"Do you think it's poltergeists?!"

Ted sounds weirdly happy about the idea as we watch the disused robotic assembly line whir while the robots try to assemble a car out of thin air.

"Poltergeist activity is a sort of reverse psychometry, so unless the people here were obsessively interested in their jobs… These robots aren't enchanted, are they?"

"Oh, no, we stopped using this site before we switched into magitech. I only found out this was even happening because we sent in a maintenance team a few days ago."

"What for? Did they set off an alarm?"

"No. We only have alarms on the outside, and security assumed that someone in head office was… Ah, 'playing' with the robots."

I gaze levelly at him, and he looks away.

"One time. Ollie wanted to know if we could make custom trucks, so I sent people to check up on the place... Point is, the security recordings say it started a few days ago. It's not all the time, but they're not drawing any power from the grid." He frowns. "Actually, that could be a big money saver if we can work out why it's happening."

Kara blinks as she shifts her vision back to normal.

"They might not be drawing power, but there's electrical activity inside them. They're at normal working temperature, and…" She shakes her head. "I can't see anything to explain this. Do they work all day?"

"Yep." Ted squints at the production line. "And now I'm trying to work out what they're trying to make."

"Do they shut down at the end of the working day?"

"No, but… This place did shift work. The lines never really shut down."

"The car in Coast City drove its usual route from home to work. These robots are clearly trying to make something. What was the last thing they made?"

"Golf carts."

"Do you have the… Blank panels? The components?"

"No, but I've got the specifications." He turns to me, smiling. "You actually want me to try them out?"

"I'd.. like to have a few magicians take a look first. But that's probably going to be part of it. Whatever this is… It doesn't appear to be hostile." Hm. "Do these robots have some sort of safety measure to shut them down if someone gets in the way?"

"It's more if there's an obstruction that doesn't match the shape of what they're supposed to receive. We generally assume that the railings and warning lights are enough to stop people getting in the way while they're running."

"Kara, would you mind sticking your hand in the way?"

She raises her right eyebrow.

"Is there something wrong with your hand?"

"I'm supposed to be taking it easy. And you're a lot more mystically inert than I am."

"I'm also vulnerable to magic."

"They're robots animated by magic. The plasma cutters are still mundane."

She shrugs, flying over the railing and standing between a couple of robot arms. She then rolls back her right sleeve and then shoves her bare arm in the-.

The robot arm halts before it touches her, then an alarm buzzes.

Ted looks around, frowning. "That's the 'line obstructed' alarm. It's not supposed to be plugged in either."

"Try moving your hand into it."

A frown flicks in my direction, but she moves her hand towards it-. And it backs up.

"Definitely not hostile, then."

Ted frowns. "Why's it doing that? I'd have expected it to keep working regardless of what was in the way-."

"Can I come out now?"

"Yes." I sigh. "Do you have the schematics on hand? It's probably-"

Kara gets out of the way, and after a momentary delay the robot goes back to miming working.

"-quicker if I fabricate the parts rather than ordering them from your supplier or going through the store rooms. Can you spare a few wizards?"

"Well... Most of my workforce aren't researchers. I should be able to get some of them interested, but you know more Atlantean researchers than I do."

"The… Problem is that there are only so many researchers to go around. Between the revolution, studying the Dream and the people N.E.M.O. has recruited, there's going to be a shortage until we can set up new schools to train new researchers. At this point, we're down to asking the better disciplined street wizards to take a look. And half of them would just summon up a demon and ask them if they knew anything."

Ted looks decidedly uncomfortable. "Yeeeeaaaah, I have enough protesters without getting involved in literal demon magic."

"If it came down to it I could just ask Mammon. That would be far safer."

Kara considers the machines for a moment.

"What about the Justice League?"

I shrug. "This is weird, but so far there aren't any reports of people being significantly hurt. And it's not common. The League has four magicians, none of whom are researchers. I'll forward what we know to them, but this isn't really a League thing yet. Unless you're… Seeing something I'm not?"

She shakes her head.

"Is magic the only thing this could be?"

"Metahuman abilities need a carrier signal of some sort, and I'm not detecting anything by ring scan. You can't hack something that doesn't have power, nanotech is fragile and can be detected, microtech is easy to detect… There are only so many things it could be."

Ted perks up slightly. "'How often have I said to you that when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth?'"

Kara looks blank. "I don't think you've ever said that."

"I'm gunna start."

"Do you need this factory back quickly?"

"It's not super-urgent, but I'd like it back."

"Because it seems to me that while we can wait on a full explanation, we need a way to stop it affecting machinery going forward. So… I'll try and find out whether warded machinery can be affected, and…"

Ah.

"I know a man who can eliminate mundane explanations fairly reliably."

 

[Mr Zoat]

22nd July 2012
12:32 GMT -5

"Well hey there, partner!"

Earl Dukeston smiles warmly, striding over to shake my hand the moment his secretary lets me into his office. His… Huge office, which I might call a penis extension if I didn't know for a fact that he doesn't have one. Though I do note that he's had extra padding added to his right hand; his grip feels a lot more like that of a human hand and less like that of an industrial crusher than last time.

"Sit down, sit down." Right hand on my back, he leads me to his coffee table and takes a seat opposite me. I sit down and he leans back, apparently completely at ease. "What brings you to my neck of the woods?"

"There's been a rash of… What I can only call strange malfunctions: machines so committed to their jobs that they do them without human agency or.. even power-."

"Ah, hey." He holds his hands up defensively. "Ah'm totally legitimate, strait and narrow, wouldn't say 'boo' to a goose. Y'all can check with-."

"Oh-. No, no." I shake my head. "I wasn't accusing you. Sorry, I can.. see how that could have sounded."

"Well good." He puts his right hand on his chest, smile still in place. "If ah had a heart, it'd be racing right now! Ah'm a good boy these days, now there's no electric gun against mah head."

"I have no reason to doubt that, and as I said at the hearing, I can think of no reason why you wouldn't be."

"So long as we're clear about that. Machines acting up, huh?"

"A car that drove the route to work without regard for traffic laws, a robot assembly line trying to assemble golf carts from nothing." I smile. "A weighing machine that guesses the weight of anyone who walks by it with surprising accuracy."

"Bet some folks didn't like that."

"Actually, it drew a crowd. I've got a dozen other reports, and there are probably more that we aren't finding out about because people either don't notice or chalk it up to a normal malfunction."

"That's mighty strange. But why come to me? Ah'm just a businessman."

"Two reasons. Firstly, your remarkable facility for controlling technological devices. Secondly, the other AIs I know are magic-based or techno-organic. You're an upload, which means that if it's a magic thing you're more likely to be able to interact with it."

"Like a canary interacts with mine gas."

"That's not quite how I was.. thinking about it. If there's some sort of elemental creature that actually wants something, or.. is trying to do something, we need someone who can speak its language."

"Negotiatin' 's something ah can do. So y'all just want me to work mah not-magic touch on it, see if anyone's home, and that's it?"

"That's probably it. If I knew exactly what was happening, I wouldn't be trying to find out what's happening."

"Sounds like the sorta thing a public-spirited artificial person like me oughta do."

"You haven't noticed anything strange yourself?"

"Everything in the office is hunky-dory, and if the fellahs workin' the wells spotted anything they ain't referred it upwards. Ah'll send a message 'round, see what shakes loose."

"I'd appreciate it. And you, personally?"

He frowns. "Had some mighty strange dreams lately. But hell, ah'm a machine thinks he's a man. Shouldn't even be able to dream in the first place, and there ain't exactly a standard for 'normal' when you're me. Ah. But there's something that's been bothering me something chronic for a while now, and I was hoping you could put mah mind at ease. 'fore I do something canary-like."

"I'll do my best. What's the problem?"

"Earl Dukeston the First didn't want to meet his maker ahead of time. That's why he had me built. But he knew he'd be meeting him eventually. He was a Baptist Christian, a regular church-goer. Until he couldn't physically make the trip no more, anyhow. Ah've got as many ah his memories as they could load onto me, but I'm not him."

I nod. "That's my understanding; Earl Dukeston the First is now dead."

"So he didn't change the date ah his meeting with his maker at all, did he?"

"Not significantly. Though having been to the Silver City and having definitely not had an encounter with the godhead, I'm not sure that's exactly how it works anyway."

"Howsabout me, then? Ah've been going to church. Ah believe just like he did, and the law says ah'm a person even if ah ain't exactly a man. Will ah go to Heaven, or the other place if'n ah don't measure up?"

"Zauriel's a better person to ask than me."

"If'n he had a postal address, ah'd have surely asked him."

"Ah. In that case, my understanding is 'no'. Even on mystically strong worlds, AIs struggle to gather the sort of arcane weight that organic creatures do. Both Red Tornado and Red Inferno were designed with the manipulation of magic as a part of their core function so they don't have that problem. You weren't."

"Well. That's mighty disappointing. Is there any way to fix it?"

"Oh, sure. Did I ever show you my tattoos?"

"Can't say you did."

"Well, short version, a while ago I found myself in your position. I talked to some wizards, and after a while we managed to get it fixed. Since I couldn't grow a soul normally, we used a little magic to make me grow one artificially. I'm not exactly sure how it would work for you, but we can talk to some people and see what we can come up with."

"That'd be a weight off mah mind." He stands up, the same smile on his face. "Alright, ah'm in. Let's go have a powwow with the self starting machines."

I stand. "Let's. But I'm curious: what sort of dreams?"

"Ah already talked that one out with mah shrink. Like ah'm standing in a room surrounded by all kinds a' folks, but none of 'em can see or hear each other, an' ah can't talk neither." He shrugs. "Guess it just means ah need to get out and make more friends."

"Do you dream that often?"

"A couple times, close together. Then once or twice more. Ain't like it's every night. If'n this ole' noggin of mine gets stuck in that sorta loop, I call the fellahs down in IT."

"And you're making an effort to be more social, and they're not coming back?"

"That's about the size of it. Not every little thing's a major crisis. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, you know?"

"It's not practical to be suspicious of everything, anyway. What are your normal dreams like?"

"Ones and zeroes, my friend. Ones and zeroes."

 

[Mr Zoat]

22nd July 2012
11:42 GMT -6

"…kinda electrical fellah."

Earl frowns, and because his brain actually encodes information as closely as possible to how human brains do he genuinely is straining to remember. Sometimes the schematic flows just aren't strong enough. The scientists that created him might not have had the sheer individual brilliance of Dr. Morrow, but when it comes to making something that thinks like a human they achieved far more.

"Kilger? Could take over machines like this."

"Kilg%re. Though… We're not sure if that's its name, or just a random series of letters it typed in before it really understood human language."

"Kilgore?"

"Kilg%re."

"Ah?" He shrugs. "If'n you say so."

"Kilg%re exists in two forms. He can sustain himself in a diffuse plasma medium, or he can install himself on a robotic platform. The Green Lanterns told me how to detect his plasma form, so I can check for that myself. I can't reliably detect a robotic platform if he's using the right sort of sensor baffles, but that form uses relatively mundane means to connect to the technology he takes over and that I can detect."

"And in both cases, he can only control electrical components. Not mechanical ones. He can't control car steering when there's no electric actuator, and the car it happened to was hydraulic."

Earl frowns as we walk into the factory floor, the sounds from the working production line clearly audible.

"Could he control me?"

"I'm not sure. I'd guess 'yes', but he's never tried to control something that could resist intelligently before. I'd guess that if you used electromagnetic shielding around all of your electronic systems then you should be alright, but you'd be better off not testing it."

"It's just something a fellah like me has to worry about."

"There's one Kilg%re. There are dozens of telepaths, and you're immune to all of them."

"That so? Well, lucky me."

Ted waves when he spots us, the phone staying at his ear for a moment before he lowers it and waves.

"Hey, Earl."

"Howdy, Ted."

"I thought you were trying to go easy on the stereotypical Texan stuff?"

"Tried. But ah started twitching, and ah'd rather avoid giving off 'killer robot' vibes if ah don't have to."

"Yeah, that sounds like something to avoid." He turns to the side and points to the assembly robots. "There they are. Feel free to do whatever you need. We're insured for accidental damage."

"They're your robots." Earl walks right up to the barrier guarding the assembly line. "Fellahs, you got this one chance to explain what y'all doing. If'n y'all don't, things are going to get a mite personal."

The robots keep doing their thing.

"Three. Two. Okay, that's how you want it."

Earl pulls up his right sleeve a little way, his fingers extending in segments as his metal interior becomes visible. He extends his right arm, which gradually loses its human shape and it reaches for the closest robot arm.

"How about you and me have a heart to heart?"

His fingers touch the base of the robot arm and then burrow inside, his eyes flickering as he makes a connection.

"You okay there, Earl?"

"It's… It's a tricky critter. No. Stop." The arm stops, then shudders. "Ahhh." It stops again, and then the arms next to it stop as well.

"Mister Dukeston?"

"Ah don't rightly think ah'm getting more than y'all are seeing. Commands are coming in, and ah'm not rightly sure where they're coming from. All ah can-"

His left leg shakes, extending slightly.

"-see is ooooh."

"Mister Dukeston. Say you're alright, or I'll sever your connection."

"Ah'm okay!" His mouth doesn't move as he says it, and his face is stretching slightly. "Some varmint jus' tried giving me a little-" His leg snaps back to its normal length. "-surprise, is all."

"Can you give me more information than 'varmint'?"

"Feel's like when I tried talkin' East Coast. Only worse. Ain't got no idea where-. Egh."

His clothes rip as his arms and legs extend and his chest expands. He manages to keep his head steady, but the rest of him is trembling.

"Well, this is just plain embarrassing."

"Mister Dukeston, you're not exactly filling me with confidence in your ability to maintain control."

"It jus' hit the 'extend' button. It's like a puppy nibbling on your finger."

"Are you getting any sort of impression of the mind behind it?"

"Don't feel like any kinda mind at all. Seems like… This is just an impression, y'hear?"

"I hear."

"Something that wants to work real hard but doesn't know what it's supposed to be doing. It ain't attacking me so much as poking, seeing if'n there's anything it should do."

"That pretty much rules out Kilg%re. Nifty body like yours, he'd be right in there."

"What'd you say this place was for?"

"It used to make golf carts. I think it was boats before that."

Earl shakes his head and returns his attention to the robots. "You fellahs think carrying on like this is going to make a golf cart? Y'all can't weld thin air."

The arms which were still in motion slow to a stop. Earl gives it a moment, then clunks back down to human proportions before drawing back his fingers and giving them a shake.

"Guess you just have to know how to talk to them."

"Which raises the question of what was doing the listening." I run an orange beam over him, repairing his clothing and skin. He nods in gratitude. "Can you tell us any more?"

He shakes his head. "Would if I could, partner. Best ah could tell you was that there was a whole lotta drive but no one in the driver's seat. Y'all got any other robots or suchlike you want me to have a word with?"

"No, but there's someone else I need to check in with, and they may be able to help you with your other problem."

 

[Mr Zoat]

22nd July 2012
17:52 GMT

I stroll into the garage, the owner just giving me a glance and then ignoring me.

"Good evening, Seth."

"Paul." The car has had its wheels removed, and parts of the panelling have been removed to grant easier access to the mechanisms I think of as the 'worky bits'. Vulcan's legs are sticking out of the door, while his head and shoulders remain firmly within. "Not sure I've got much for you yet."

I nod.

"Do you think it's worth bringing your brother in?"

"He might have something useful to say, but I've got to be honest here: something like this… Hm."

I look around, and while Mr. Zencha isn't paying us a lot of attention, he isn't deaf. I take a noise cancelling field generator out of subspace and activate it.

"Good idea." Vulcan shuffles himself out a little, coming upright with his feet hanging out of the car door. "I'm not an expert on this sort of primal…" He spots Earl Dukeston and regards him curiously. "Magic."

"Not a natural event?"

"Not natural and I'm almost certain that it wasn't directed. Not by a magician, anyway. Who is this?"

"Oh, I'm.. sorry. Vulcan, this is Earl Dukeston the Second. He's an AI with a highly adaptive robotic body whose mind is based on the mind of his predecessor, Earl Dukeston the First."

Earl raises his right hand in greeting.

"Howdy, Vulcan."

"Welcome kindly, Mister Dukeston."

"But it could be a god?"

"A god, a titan, or something… Different. I read something a while ago about the possibility of human technology developing its own intelligence-."

I shake my head. "If you're talking about some sort of emergent noosphere entity, that only applies to electromagnetic energy. We might make our own Kilg%re, but this car still wouldn't be vulnerable to it. And neither would isolated robots with no external control system. And… And frankly, I'm sceptical as to whether it's possible at all, other than in the normal ways an artificial intelligence could be created."

"One ah you fellahs wanna fill a guy in?"

"The term 'noosphere' refers to the sum total of telecommunications in a given area. Since the contents of communications impact one another, in… Very theoretically, a conscious mind could emerge from one once a civilisation reaches a certain point."

"The internet could start thinking?"

"One unusually intelligent indexing program is all it would take. In theory."

"Boy howdy! Glad I said 'no' to that upgrade. I don't even wanna imagine what kinda twisted mind would crawl outta that place."

"It probably wouldn't be that bad. It wouldn't have any reason to assign the same value to the information that we do. But-. As I said, it's unlikely that's what we're looking for. If it's a god, is it..? New?"

"I looked through the list you sent me. It feels random, but that's just a feeling and not a god-given domain-related intuition. If someone was getting a feeling for their new powers, I can't see why they'd do it like this. And given how powerful the god would have become, there'd be wizards with blood pouring out of their eyes all over the place from the power backlash."

"A new god? How would that work?"

"If Heph got Athena pregnant, their domains are close enough that their offspring could become the God of Technology. Maybe." He smiles saucily. "But if something like that was happening, I'm pretty sure we'd have heard about it."

"Are there any other gods in a position to try something like that? I imagine that there are a few chief gods who'd be prepared to lose their seats if it meant their pantheon coming to that level of prominence."

"The only gods who actually plan things like that are the Shinto gods. But they've been working from the bottom up. A god of all technology?" He shakes his head. "Where would they find one?"

"Don't they have gods of related concepts they could persuade to have a child together?"

"It isn't impossible, but that hasn't been the direction they've been moving in." He shakes his head. "You'd have to ask one of them. I'm not close with any of them."

"I'll add it to the slate. What are the other alternatives?"

"A new god born directly from the Dream. Perhaps an entire pantheon. I'm too young to have ever seen it happening before, so I can't describe what it looked like last time."

"Did any of the older members of your pantheon ever talk about it?"

"Of their own births? Their first awkward, foundering steps into the magic realms of the Earth?" He looks amused by the idea. "No, never. You could try asking Hades if you want to compare the two, but Earth was a very different place back then."

"What would a god want?"

"Worshippers, a cult, recognition, and a reasonable reassurance that it's going to keep getting those things in the future. Assuming that it's a single god. With a whole pantheon it could be anything." He makes an amused exhalation. "Though I don't imagine they're going to want someone like me sticking around."

Hm. If I remember my Warhammer 40,000 correctly…

"What happens in the run up to a god being born? Or… However it works?"

"If they're born as the child of an existing god, not a lot. If they emerge directly from the Dream…" He shakes his head. "I don't know. I've never seen it, and I don't understand the magic involved well enough to work it out. What we're seeing might fit, but I can't swear to it."

"And if it was a titan?"

His gaze grows a little distant. "Once, when he was really drunk, Jupiter talked about what that was like. Mortals and gods alike being driven insane by the ideas forced into their sleeping minds. The whole of the world's magic being thrown off balance until it finds a new equilibrium." His attention returns to me. "That's one of the reasons why they didn't kill the titans who survived the war; they're literally propping up what's left. I'd… Guess, that if a new titan was emerging from the depth of the Dream -a Titan of Technology- it would be similar to how it would be for a god, only far more severe. The nature of magic on Earth would change."

I nod.

"That's easier to check. I'll just need to ask magicians if their abilities have been off recently."

He nods back. "I'd like to think that we'd notice in advance. But maybe this is us noticing."

Okay, so talk to Hades, talk to… The Tower of Fate has a window onto the Dream. So John's probably the best person to ask about that aspect of things.

"On an unrelated note, Mister Dukeston has a problem."

He nods. "Apparently, ah'm a soulless bag of bolts and you're the fellah who can fix that."

Vulcan shrugs. "I could build something…" He frowns. "If a god's awakening..." His frown deepens as he studies Mr. Dukeston. "I could build something that would draw magic from the world around you. I've studied Paul enough that I could create something like the network he has. But if a God of Machines is waking up… I might be able to use that magic to create something… More you."

"I gotta decide right away?"

"No. This business is more important, perhaps for the whole world." He shakes his head. "I can't even be certain what your choice would mean for you."

"Then this seems like something ah should really sleep on."

"As you will."

"Thank you, Vulcan. You've been very helpful. I'll keep you up to date on what I discover."

"And I, you. Thank you for bringing this to me. It's been a while since I've… Engaged with the world like this."

 

[Mr Zoat]

22nd July 2012
13:02 GMT -5

I float through the glowing barrier and knock on the door of the Tower of Fate.

At the request of the Salem Tourist Board, John agreed to leave the Tower in 'manifested' mode most of the time. The Tower's outer surface, anyway. The majority of its mass is still extruded into the Earthsphere with the rest poking into the Dream proper. At this point the approximate location of the Tower's earthly anchor point is common knowledge and John said that he missed interacting with people. A few cameras are raised at my appearance, but sightings of me aren't that unusual and these people are mostly here to look at the strange non-Euclidean structure of the Tower itself.

"Yes?"

Mr. Nelson's voice. John's left the butler spell running, though now that I know what I'm looking at it's obvious that it's sub-sophont. No desires or other emotions at all. I assume that he's modified it according to his own requirements, but I haven't actually asked.

"Orange Lantern to see Lord Fate. Is he available?"

"I'm afraid that he's indisposed at the moment. Can I take a message?"

"I'm investigating the possible emergence of a God of Technology, and I'd like to coordinate with him."

"One moment."

I can just about feel it as the presence of the butler vanishes to report to John. Huh. I'm not actually sure what John does on a day to day basis. His secret identity doesn't have regular employment so he's not working regular hours. I know that Dr. Balewa keeps himself busy checking up on every site of mystical significance on the planet, but I don't-.

The door opens, the spectral figure of Mr. Nelson beckoning me inside.

"The Master will speak to you now."

I walk inside, looking around the entrance of the Tower. It's abandoned the medieval tower aesthetic totally, swapping in a foyer such as I would expect to find in an upmarket hotel. The front desk is abandoned and… No computers? Something from the middle of the previous century? It would fit with the aesthetic of the elevator.

"Please take the lift up to the library. He's waiting for you."

"Thank you."

I walk over to the closest elevator and press the 'call' button. The spectral image of Mr. Nelson vanishes, reappearing behind the desk and taking on a somewhat vacant look. Seems a bit… Odd, but I suppose that John hardly needs its assistance if there's nothing much going on.

I step inside the elevator and press the button for the library. The doors close and then there's a moment of dislocation as the Tower changes the elevator's entry point before opening the doors again. Certainly more efficient than actually having a lift shaft. I suppose that's the difference between 'follows the rules of the world' orderly and 'acts with greatest possible efficiency' orderly. I exit the elevator and walk through the towering bookshelves in the direction of John's work area.

He's busy studying the Orb of Nabu as I arrive, his eyes not leaving it for a moment. I just get a quick wave from his right hand as an acknowledgement. He's dressed in the Fate uniform minus the Helmet, which is sitting on a nearby desk.

"I'm looking for an unborn God of Technology. Any ideas?"

"That's not news."

I come closer, frowning.

"It is to me. And to the people whose machines are acting up."

"Earth is a thaumically active world that uses mechanical engineering en masse instead of sorcery." His hands move, his gaze still locked on the Orb. "Something like this was inevitable. Doctor Mist and I have been trying to come up with a plan for how to handle it."

"What have you got?"

"What we've got is that we shouldn't have to deal with this for another decade at least. Consciousnesses don't emerge from the Dream quickly. Usually."

"It's not Dream himself, is it? Because I really don't want to try picking a fight with one of the Endless."

"No, they don't care enough to do something like this. We're mildly interesting at best."

That statement doesn't entirely gel with what I remember from Sandman, but I suppose that it wasn't focused on what the Endless got up to on other planets. For all I know the bit we're shown is a trivial side note to their actual focus.

"This god has been forming since the invention of the internal combustion engine at the very least. It had a setback when humans shifted away from purely mechanical technology and towards electronic, but it managed to adapt to that a while ago. And now it's stirring."

"And that's what we're seeing?"

"Yes. Something's making parts of it act like it's awake when it's not. And I can't tell who and I can't tell why and that's a big problem."

"What's the worst-case scenario?"

He stops moving completely for a moment.

"The worst case-? Probably something like 'Darkseid gets control of everything more complex than a spring everywhere in the universe'. I don't think that's what's happening here, but I can't think of anything worse off the top of my head."

"Alright, what's the worst-case reasonably-probable scenario?"

"An evil magician is trying to use the god's power to destroy civilisation. Which is just as bad for us, but less bad for the rest of the universe. Whoever it is, I haven't been able to find them yet."

"Surely that narrows it down? There can't be that many people you can't overpower."

"I'm not a Lord of Order or a Lord of Chaos. I just stole their equipment. There are ancient magicians who never come to public attention who can hide themselves from me, if they're careful."

"So… Do we need to get hold of John Constantine?"

"We could, except I don't know where he is. And he definitely has the skill and power to keep me from finding him."

I frown.

"You don't think it's him, do you? I.. don't think-."

"No. No. John Constantine would only lash out against people he had a grudge against. This is going to affect the whole world."

"Okay. But we're sure this is a new god emerging from the Dream?"

"As opposed to what?"

"A titan."

He looks away from the orb and stares at me, blinking only very slowly. Slowly, he breathes in and out.

"Yes. And thank you for that heart attack."

"So what can I do that's useful?"

He returns his attention to the Orb.

"I could use a map of whatever incidents you can find. I can't afford to leave here right now."

I nod. "Okay, can do. Would intentionally using this nascent god's power for something hurt or help?"

"I'm not sure. If that's the sort of thing you want to do, let me know in advance. Either way, I might be able to learn something."

 

[Mr Zoat]

28th August 2010
12:03GMT -2

I wave the ring, undoing in an instant the damage Black Manta and Company made when they broke into the Poseidonis Science Center and stole...

"I'm sorry, Minister Vulko, what exactly did they take?"

He looks up from where he's discussing something with another researcher.

"They didn't take anything. Black Manta attempted to steal an ancient creature frozen in arctic ice, but when Kaldur'ahm and Garth stopped him all he could do was destroy it."

"When you say 'ancient', how old do you mean?"

"It's hard to say. Before the Sinking, certainly. As I hope you can appreciate, we have excellent records of aquatic life in the Atlantic Ocean after that."

"So… Was it an aquatic dinosaur?"

"Almost certainly not. It appeared to be some form of echinoderm, but I'm afraid that we weren't able to really begin our analysis before the attack."

"Like a sea urchin?"

"More like a giant star fish."

My environmental shield wavers. DC, giant starfish. That says Starro to me, though… I suppose that there might be other giant starfish around the place. I was never an expert on extinct aquatic species.

"Roughly how big?"

"Roughly… Eight metres, arm tip to arm tip?"

"And it was completely destroyed?"

"No, not completely. A small amount of tissue was left over." He sighs as he swims upwards towards me to carry on our conversation. "We're sending it to the surface. King Orin feels that S.T.A.R. labs are better situated to contain samples in the face of criminal attack." He looks at my face, then gives me a mild frown. "Is there a problem?"

Explaining what I think it could be might risk someone questioning how I-.

Oh, of course. The Green Lantern Corps must have records of Starro. Even if the local Green Lanterns haven't ever bothered looking it up. And while Jordan and Stewart regularly talk to each other, neither of them talk to Gardner if they can possibly help it. I've talked to all three of them, and unlike me they don't have perfect recall. They also don't know that I have perfect recall. If questioned I can just say 'I think you mentioned it one time', and if, say, Jordan says that he doesn't remember I can just shrug and say it might have been Gardner. He won't be sure that it wasn't him and he certainly won't contact Gardner to check.

"It… Might be nothing, but I've been training with Green Lantern Two Eight One Four A, and… He mentioned a species of giant alien starfish. It might not be the same species, but it… Might be worth checking."

"I hardly think it's likely that an alien starfish made its way to Earth. We didn't find any wreckage or remains that could have been a ship…"

"The species in question flew in space using massively strong telekinetic fields. I don't know how familiar you are with the phenomenon..?"

He shakes his head. "Not at all. The genetics that give rise to that class of mental abilities don't occur in Atlanteans. I think it may be something to do with the alterations made to us to adapt us to sub aquatic life. Or it might be that our forebears simply didn't have the genes. Since magic can serve virtually the same purpose there wouldn't have been any evolutionary incentive for the trait to arise. But these starfish could fly through interstellar space?"

I shrug. "I haven't seen it myself, but that was my understanding."

"Fascinating. I wonder if they're artificial, or-. No, no, that's not important. Are they dangerous?"

"They can mind control the populations of entire planets, so yes. Do you still have the remaining tissue here?"

"I… No. It's on its way to America. But it's almost certainly dead."

"Right, but are all of the others?"

"Others?"

"They usually send millions of little ones. I don't know exactly how their life cycle works." I look around the room. "So it was… Here, right?"

"Yes?"

"Ring, scan for genetic material in detail."

"Compliance."

Thick waves of orange light radiate outwards, repeatedly flowing over every surface.

"Eliminate samples from Atlanteans and known sea creatures."

"Compliance."

"And forward the rest to Lantern Two Eight One Four A and ask him to call me back once he's checked them against the Green Lantern Corps' database."

"Compliance."

"So were there any other starfish where you found this one?"

"The… Excavation is still ongoing."

"And… What happens if Black Manta goes there?"

"Go there-?" His eyes widen. "They have.. guards…"

I blink.

"More guards than the city of Poseidonis? Also, are those guards sufficiently skilled at defensive magic to prevent an alien starfish taking control of their minds?"

Also: what? Yes, S.T.A.R. labs usually have good security, but this is the capital city of Atlantis. Even with distraction attacks… That's like Pokolistan sending a commando team to raid the Natural History Museum and just flying away. On the surface they'd have to get past radar and sonar. Ships and aircraft would be redirected to intercept exactly like they are when the Russians decide to try it on. How the heck did Manta get into position to do this?

"No. No, you.. definitely have a point. I will suggest that King Orin-."

The ring blinks.

"Excuse me. Answer."

Jordan's concerned-looking face appears.

"Don't touch it and don't go near it. Where are you?"

"Poseidonis. The Atlanteans dug it out from…" I look at Vulko. "Somewhere?"

"The northern polar ice. It's an alien, then?"

"Where is it now?"

"What's left of it after Black Manta hit it with a missile is heading for S.T.A.R. Labs Gotham. Might I respectfully suggest incinerating it, sir?"

"There's no need to suggest the completely obvious. I'm heading to Gotham now. Isolate wherever you found it. I'll clear that up next. Green Lantern out."

His face vanishes, and I nod. That seems like an entirely proportional response to me. But I don't know why Black Manta is able to get in and out of Atlantean territory-.

Oh. Heh. Okay, yes, that would make more sense. Of course, it doesn't really help when I have a power ring that can track someone anywhere on the planet.

"You don't have a blood sample from Black Manta, do you?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

22nd July 2012
19:15 GMT

'lE˥5 ˥Ħ1H'

I frown at the clock radio.

"Have you tried answering it?"

Gemma Masters shakes her head. "Uncle John always said that if anything tried talking to me I should get rid of it and phone him right away."

"Get rid of it then phone him, or phone him and get rid of it if reasonably practical?"

She's staring at the clock. "Yeah, that one. What is it?"

I can feel it as her father stares at the back of my head. I was allowed in because Zauriel has officially okayed me, but Anthony Masters is one of many people who aren't at all happy about the fact that magic use is working its way into the mainstream. It's not even an Anglican thing, really. The High Church strand of Anglican thought has pretty much accepted the Catholic outlook on magic, and that's the trend that's currently dominant in the Church of England. But the Archbishop of Canterbury is stuck moderating the increasingly vacuous-. Vicious arguments between that portion of the Anglican Communion and the Evangelical wing which really doesn't.

"How long have you had this clock?"

"Six years. So it's not a century spirit."

"Those-. That's not exactly how it works."

She glances at me, rolling her eyes.

"I know."

"But you're right. It hasn't developed an arcane presence on its own. Something's acting through it, and-."

"Then we'll burn it." Mr. Masters walks around me and reaches out to-.

"Please don't do that."

He stops, but he looks even less happy. "What? Burning will get rid of whatever it is, won't it?"

"It will stop it communicating through the clock, yes, but it won't deal with the thing that's doing the communicating. And this clock isn't the only thing that's behaving like this."

"But it won't be behaving like this here anymore."

"Based on the evidence I've accumulated so far, it can manifest through any technological device. Do you have any power tools in the house? Or a vacuum cleaner?"

He sags slightly. To be fair to the man, his exposure to magic started with John Constantine and ended with the Sheeda. And the bit in the middle wasn't much fun either. Irritating as I personally find him and his, he's a basically decent man in over his head, which is a problem because given the state of the world today there's no way for him to pull his head out. The world now is very different to what it was not all that long ago. Whatever… Masquerade there was has been thoroughly destroyed.

Keeping your head down doesn't really work if you're inside the blast radius. And married to a Constantine.

"So what do we do?"

I take a rune stone out of my pouch and hold it out. A weak resonance. That could just be from the spell being used to connect the foetal god to the device. Or it could be imbued into the device itself. The only way to check without an actual magician would be to drain it and see if it kept going.

I've got plenty of sites for John Quinn to triangulate. I just had my rings monitor social media for people reporting odd events, then paid a visit if it seemed to be on brand. But none of the devices so far affected have attempted two-way communication. That could just be a matter of luck, but it could also be a sign that events are progressing towards something. Or that the god is waking up.

A clock radio doesn't have a microphone, but I can make the speakers vibrate easily enough. The question is, is it advantageous to do so?

"Have these.. things hurt anyone?"

"One man hospitalised for observation after he had a panic attack. No injuries directly inflicted. So far."

I plug orange filaments into the clock radio and generate a microphone construct, handing it to Gemma.

"It's your radio."

She looks decidedly pleased as she takes the microphone, drawing herself up slightly before putting it to her lips.

"This is Gemma. Who am I talking to?"

'HE110 CE∩∩∩∩Ħ'

"It's talking to me! It's talking to me!"

'˥HE ˥1∩∩E 15'

Gemma frowns. "What's it doing?"

'19:17'

The numbers remain on the screen.

"What?"

"It's your clock radio. It's telling you the time."

"W-? Yeah, but-? What?"

I tilt my head back, closing my eyes for a moment.

"Clocks tell their owner the time. So that's what it's doing. It got your attention and told you the time."

"But-. I thought…"

She sounds severely disappointed.

"Magic-based lifeforms don't work like organic ones. You can't assume that text indicates a human-equivalent mind any more than it does when a parrot talks."

"But how did it know my name?"

"Has your name ever been used within reach of its speakers? Or… Did you fill in a warranty?"

"I took it-." She huffs, then picks it up and turns it over. 'GEMMA' is written in indelible ink on the bottom. "I took it to Sharon's house for a sleepover."

"Oh thank God."

Mr. Masters takes his crucifix in his right hand and closes his eyes for a moment. Gemma puts the clock radio down again-.

'lE˥5 ˥Ħ1H'

"Let me guess. It's seven eighteen."

'∩0'

"What, then?"

'19:17'

Gemma rolls her eyes. "Thanks."

She starts to hand it to me-.

'1 H∩0UU UUHEĦE J0H∩ 15'

She immediately lifts the clock radio up to her face.

"Where Uncle John is? Where?!"

'C0∩∩E F1∩0 ∩∩E'

 

[Mr Zoat]

22nd July 2012
19:21 GMT

Mrs. Masters frowns.

"Is he missing? I just thought he'd wandered off again."

"I.. don't know how often he's usually in contact with you-."

"If we're lucky, we get a phone call at Christmas. What happened to him?"

"When I last saw him, he'd just gained a huge amount of raw magic power and was working on getting it under control. And since he told me not to get in contact with him, I was leaving him to it."

She sighs the long-suffering sigh of someone all too often involved in John-adjacent shenanigans.

"Our John wants keeping an eye on."

"Strangely, he's been involved in less arcane chicanery in the year after than he was in the year before. But I understand what you mean."

"Terry's ready to start pulling his hair out. And of course Gemma wants to get right to it."

"I believe John thinks there's a curse on the Constantine line, to be fascinated with magic. I suspect that it's more to do with the adrenal glands. Or it could be the fact that magic is just that interesting." I shrug. "I've got no guarantees for you, but she'll be wearing a personal force field and a ward, and I'll be with her every step of the way." I frown. "Actually…"

I raise my left hand.

"Orange Lantern to Kara."

My ring shimmers for a moment, then a phone construct appears.

"Hey Paul."

"Are you free right now? I've got a lead and I could do with some more muscle."

"Don't you have an entire Lantern Corps for that? And a fleet? And a Justice League?"

"I don't want the L.E.G.I.O.N. fleet involved in case whatever's doing this can affect their armour and weapons. And the same for the Lanterns; I'm unusually protected but they're not. Your abilities are part of your biology. And yes, I could ask the team for help, but do you really think you're going to get anything useful out of Ted while he's got this to play with?"

I hear a quiet sigh.

"No. He's already given the robots name badges."

"Did it have a measurable effect on their performance?"

…

"I hate living on a planet where that's a sensible question. … Not as far as I can tell."

"I'm not expecting anything to happen; this is just to put Missus Masters' mind at ease."

"Do I have to wear a costume?"

"Not if you don't want to. Actually, low visibility would probably be better."

"Okay, I'll tell Ted. Give me twenty seconds."

I frown. Given her maximum speed and the distance involved…

"How?"

"Ted's on Cadbury's Gate network. Twenty seconds."

"See you then." I shut off the construct. "That should cover it."

"Who was that?"

"Kara Zor-El. One of the Supergirls." I shake my head. "It's not my intention to put Gemma in danger. So far, none of what's happened has put human life in danger. I don't know exactly what the talkative radio wants, but Gemma will just be there so that whoever it is puts in an appearance."

"What if I say 'no'?"

"I'll understand, and try and resolve the problem some other way. And because Gemma is a Constantine and you can't watch her every moment of the day-."

"She'll bloody sneak out, won't she?"

"That would be my guess."

"John was the same. What if-?" The doorbell rings, and she walks toward it. "What if me or Terry come along?"

"Then we'd have an extra civilian to protect, and a potential aggressor would have an extra target. To reiterate, I'm not expecting any threat, but if it turns out there is one I'd rather not have to worry about two people."

"No, I suppose-" She opens the door. "-you wouldn't."

She turns to greet Kara, who's smiling broadly. "Hey. I'm Kara Zor-El."

Mrs Masters takes in her blouse and neatly pressed trousers. "Supergirl?"

Kara's eyes drift over to me for a moment. "Only when I have to be. Are we ready to go?"

Gemma hurries down the stairs, clock radio in a shoulder bag, her father watching on disapprovingly from the first floor.

"We off, then?"

Missus Masters embraces her daughter, kissing her on the top of her head. "Be careful, Gemma."

"Don't worry, Mum. Unlike Uncle John, I've got superheroes looking after me."

Missus Masters turns as Gemma walks over to Kara-

"You're not wearing an 'S'."

-and looks at me.

"I didn't feel a force field."

I nod. "Gemma, hold still a moment."

She's wearing a.. coat that looks a little like John's trench coat. Heh. I add a kinetic belt -with the flight system slaved to my ring- and an armoured vest. A ward appears on a thong around her neck.

She looks down at it. "Does this make me a superhero?"

"No, it makes you an escort mission."

Her face creases up.

"But those are rubbish!"

"One, I grew up playing Lemmings, which is basically one big escort mission. Two, you said it, not me."

She gives me a mild glare.

"So where does the clock radio want us to go?"

"Where else? London."

"Then off to London we go."

 

[Mr Zoat]

22nd July 2012
19:32 GMT

Kara shakes her head. "I can't see anything out of the ordinary either. Not that I spend a lot of time staring at breakfast cereal factories."

I feel so cut off from my roots. I honestly have no idea if 'Weetiebrix' is an off-brand Weetabix, its parallel universe replacement, or something completely different. The factory looks like it's in reasonably good condition… I don't know anything about breakfast cereal production. Hasn't really come up until now. Is it strange that there's a site in London still in production? A quick ring search says 'slightly, but not significantly', and a check on the company's finances doesn't show any significant irregularities.

Anything odd about this place? Any-.

Oh. That makes a painful amount of sense.

This is where Richard Simpson died. They found the charred remains of his body in the building's control room one morning, John Constantine having got in and out without troubling either the security guards or the security cameras. No one had any idea how it happened. The coroner's report had an open verdict as no one could really believe that an electrical surge could do that much damage to him without leaving any other sign.

And since relocating to Hell, he's been into demonic technology.

…

Guess I can tell Lord Fate he can take the rest of the day off. Now I've just got to arm-twist Mr. Simpson into telling me what he's playing at.

"Gemma, did John ever talk to you about Richard Simpson?"

She thinks for a moment. "Richie Simpson?" I nod. "I think he mentioned him. I don't remember what he said. Why?"

"I think that's who we're going to meet."

She frowns. "Isn't he dead?"

"Sort of. He wasn't in his body when it died and then he downloaded his consciousness into a demon lord's avatar. I've met him and he seemed reasonably rational. No idea what he wants with you, though."

She strides forward towards the building. "Only one way to find out."

"That's not exactly true."

She glances back at me like I'm an idiot. "That's what you say."

"When it's true. Otherwise it doesn't make any sense."

She shakes her head and walks faster.

"Kara, if he just wants to negotiate or something, I'll handle it. If this is some sort of ambush, grab Gemma and fall back."

"I thought you said you knew him?"

"Yes, but we're not friends or allies. And as far as I can tell, gaining power is what demons are most interested in. Depending on how assimilated he's become, violence is very much on the cards."

"Alright, I'll keep watch. Be careful."

"Thank you, but I'm in the wrong job for 'careful'."

I fly towards the building, picking Gemma up and unlocking-. The magnetic lock on the door is already inactive. I open the door and fly us both in. The room where Mr. Simpson died has been entirely rewired when they redid the factory's IT systems-. The cameras aren't recording us, the alarms aren't sounding and the internal card-reader operated doors aren't requiring a card.

Someone was definitely waiting for us.

I stop just outside the offices containing the control centre.

"What does the clock say?"

She pulls it out of her back and shows me.

'C0∩∩E C105ER'

"He sounds creepy."

"He's a demon technology fetishist. Unless you're secretly a gynoid, you should be safe."

"Gywhat?"

"Synthetic device patterned in the likeness of a woman. A girl robot."

"Oh. Okay." She looks into the offices. "So I just go in there?"

"I'll hang back, and jump in the moment anything happens. You've got your ward, so I'll have plenty of time."

"You know… You don't have to jump right in. He's going to be happier talking to me, isn't he? I mean, he's not going to see me as a threat."

"While true, I don't intend to risk you when I'm fairly confident that I can compel him to talk."

"Won't he just know you're here? He's got control of the cameras, right?"

I shrug. "Then he knows. But my warding tattoos make me invisible to magic, even if there's a camera involved."

She takes this in.

"Can I get tattoos like that?"

"Certainly. Just as soon as you have your eighteenth birthday, or-."

"That's-!"

"OR." She looks at me with very low expectations. "Get your father's permission."

She sullens, sighs teenagerly, then trudges towards the control room.

Hm. Alright. Mr. Simpson is -or rather was- an expert on electronic mysticism. But he's been in hell for a few years and IT is a fast moving area. I don't remember him having anything to do with Rosacarnis in the comics despite him possessing the father she hated. Here they're nominal allies, but how much access to up-to-date technology does he actually have? I mean, his demonic machinery looked modern enough…

"Alright clock, I'm here. What is it?"

She propped the door open, good. I don't want to scan because those can be detected, but I can use empathic vision to keep an eye on the room she's in.

"Plug you in? Why?"

She's saying it loud for my benefit. Good girl.

"Ah, okay? But how's that going to help… Fine."

You can't plug a clock radio into a computer. But you can plug it into a wall socket next to a plug from a computer, and use sympathetic resonance to link the two. So he wants access to the computer in the place where he died. I don't think that's enough for a summoning, not for a demon of his raw power. And he can't possess Gemma unless she does something silly and voluntarily vacates her body.

"And put what on my head? I don't think so. Where's Uncle John?"

"Paul?" Kara sounds concerned. "There are people moving towards the factory outside."

"That's fine. The more resources he commits, the better."

"Hey there, Gemma. I'm-."

"Richie Simpson. You died here. What do you want?"

"Oh. You, actually."

 

[Mr Zoat]

22nd July 2012
19:36 GMT

"Yeah. Sorry about this. Nothing personal, but I'm in the middle of something important and I don't want John getting involved. So I'm going to stick you somewhere out of the way and feed him clues about where you are until I'm finished."

The ring shows me… I'm not sure that they're cultists, but the colour-associations seem to-. Yes. Looks like Richard answered an arcane plea for help during the Sheeda invasion and they're happy to pay him back by working for him rather than something more extreme. When you owe a debt to a demon, you're lucky if they don't just drag you into Hell because they got bored.

"But I don't know where Uncle John is. He disappeared."

"Then look at this as a holiday."

"Okay, I'm leaving. Weirdo."

"Don't you want to know where he is?"

"You just told me that you don't know."

"That's true. I don't. But if I tell enough people that I've taken you, he'll hear about it. And then he'll come to get you, and we'll both know where he is."

"Or he won't, because he's not listening."

"Okay. What do you want?"

"What do you mean, 'what do I want'?"

"I don't want to make this any harder than it needs to be. And I don't want to hurt you. Or… I mean, I wouldn't exactly be broken up about it, but I'm not aiming to hurt John. I just want him distracted. Once I'm finished, you'll both be free to go. So what do you want, that'll make you go along with it?"

…

"What have you got?"

Because she wouldn't be a Constantine if that sort of offer wasn't near-irresistible.

"I'm Overlord of The Odium. A whole circle of Hell does what I tell it to. Magic? Knowledge? Technology? Whatever I've got, in exchange for you disappearing for a week or two."

"You're a demon."

"I'm... Currently a demon, yes. But I used to be a man. And demons might be nastier, but they're also a lot more honest."

"Honest. Really."

"I know, it doesn't sound very likely. But demons are actually pretty rule-abiding. If we make a pact, I'll have to stick to it."

"Or what?"

"I just have to. It's built in. Hasn't John told you about this?"

"… No."

"Really? This is basic stuff. Why did you think demons bother with pacts in the first place?"

"Same reason why cats play with birds they've caught. What are you trying to do, anyway?"

"I don't-. … If you agree to be bound so you can't tell John, I'll tell you."

"If you're such a powerful demon, how come you're so worried about Uncle John?"

"Because he's a Lord of Order and a Lord of Chaos! I'd love to try and work out how he did it, but if there's anything I've learned in Hell it's that there are things and people you don't mess around with if you can avoid it. And he's both."

"Both? How's that work?"

"I'm happy to explain it to you. If-."

"If I agree to help you."

"It's not as if you'll be doing anything. Just keeping out of the way for a few days."

"And you won't hurt Uncle John?"

"I don't really think I could. But sure. I won't try to hurt him."

"Or tell other people to?"

"You're a sharp one, aren't you? Not that I'd have tried anything serious, but if John's really angry I'd still like to be able to, you know, throw a minion or two at him to keep him away from me. And it's not really fair to them if I tell them they can't hurt him."

"Is Uncle John really that-?"

The door behind me opens as the first cultist strolls in.

"…handle a-."

He sees me, his eyes widen, then his body locks up as a filament usurps control of his peripheral nervous system. And march him out of the way. I'm assuming that Richard is monitoring them by magic, but my tattoos should still prevent him from seeing me. If Gemma has his full attention then he shouldn't immediately notice that his minions are distracted.

"Gary? What-?"

A filament each for each of the other three, who will soon be facing Attempted Kidnapping charges with their ropes and chloroform as evidence. In case Richard is monitoring them I slowly puppet-walk them towards the control room. The rest of the cultists appear to be spreading out throughout the building, covering doors and other likely escape routes.

"I… Suppose that… Sounds fair."

"Great! Pick your finger and bleed a little on the screen, and we'll have a pact."

"If it's just my blood, how is that supposed to bind you?"

"Because I'm using my magic. My consciousness is magic-based. Demons only have blood when they're supporting their material avatars with sympathetic magic."

"I don't believe you."

"Okay. This is..." I hear him sigh. "What guarantee do you want?"

"I want you here in person."

"That doesn't-. I don't work like that. I've got a distributed consciousness. If-."

"I don't believe you."

"And this is it? If I come to you and we bind our agreement with our blood, you'll accept it?"

"Yeah?"

"Okay. Cabinet on the right. Get a few multi-sockets out, plug them into each other to create a circle and then put in on the floor."

"Okay?"

"Then put the clock radio down in the middle and take a few steps back."

"Okay."

"And then give me a minute because this is a right mind-bender."

 

[Mr Zoat]

22nd July 2012
19:41 GMT

"And I'm back."

I can see Richard Simpson's aura. He's clearly got some arcane defences, but between rushing this summoning, being an innately arcane being and dealing with a young girl they're nothing like as powerful as he'd need to stop me snooping.

"Huh. You don't look very demony."

"I only put that on for the other demons. I'd much rather look human."

"Why's that?"

"How you look affects how people think about you. And how you think about yourself. If a demon looks big and scary not only do people get scared of it, but the demon thinks of itself as something that's scary to others. And that it's supposed to be scary. I'm not any weaker because I look like this than I am when I look like pink lightning that's on fire, but other demons assume that I don't have what it takes to win in Hell."

"So it's a pose?"

"Everything's a pose. What changes is how much it matters. Look."

I hear a rustle.

"Here. Everything we agreed. And, there, my demonic-magic-pretending-to-be-human-blood. Now if you just-."

"I'm going to read it first."

"Heh-hah. You've got a lot more sense than John, I'll give you that. More sense than me, to tell the truth."

"What d'you mean by that?"

"That's how I died, isn't it? John asked me to take a look at a fundamentalist Christian group called the Resurrection Crusade. I didn't spot the wards around their server and it burned my body to death while my mind was outside of it."

"My dad used to be part of that. But then Uncle John happened."

Okay, he's physically present. I'm not going to get a better chance than this.

"Yeah, he does that. Are any of them left?"

I burrow filaments into the floor, poised to shoot upwards to grab whatever's available.

"I think they've still got a few people in America who are part of it."

"I'll have to pay them a visit. You finished yet?"

"Yeah. I think we're finished."

I fly, bulldozing the intervening walls and office furniture as my filaments leap up and attach themselves to the poorly prepared magic circle and subvert it.

"Mister Simpson."

"Shit!"

He drops-

Subverted.

-into the ground up to his knees before coming to an abrupt halt.

"Shit!"

"Mister Simpson, you have a simple choice."

"Ah…" He gives up on pulling his legs out. "Shit."

"You can explain to me what's happening of your own free will, or-"

"Do you-?"

"-you can explain to me what's happening of your own free will after I warp your mind to suit my desires."

"Hey! What the hell is this? I haven't hurt anyone!"

"Apart from the time when you attacked the Justice League's headquarters."

"Yeah, but-. I thought we were square! I helped you fight the Host!"

"And I'm grateful for that, but protecting the Earth from people who intend it harm is part of my job and I've heard enough to convince me that you're involved in the spontaneous machine animation that's been happening lately. And I would appreciate an explanation."

I frown.

"Also: language. You're not in Hell at the moment."

"I know! I'm trying to leave!"

"You're the ruler of a circle of Hell, and after Neron and Satanus vanished you don't have anyone over you. You've got all the resources you could want, legions of assistants and more arcane lore than most people could read in a lifetime. Why do you want to leave?"

"Because it's Hell, you ffff-. Idiot! It's full of demons! I don't want to be there!"

"You're not there now. I don't particularly mind you hanging around. We can just blame Satanus for-."

"It's not that simple!" He waves his right fist for emphasis. "If there's a gap in the hierarchy someone will fill it. And the first thing they do will be to make sure that I won't ever come back. And then it's back down to the bottom of the hierarchy, surrounded by people who want to make sure I stay there. Did you see how they treat the weak-spirited in Hell?"

"'Rendering'?"

Gemma squints at me. "What's rendering?"

"That's where they break down souls for parts, which are still slightly aware, suffering horribly with no hope of respite."

"… Oh. That sounds…" She looks from me to him and back again. "Can we let him off?"

"I'm not really clear what we'd arrest Mister Simpson for anyway. But I do need to hear a full explanation for why the God of Technology is waking up early."

"That was my escape plan!"

"You become its high priest or… Father? And the other demons don't dare bother you?"

"No!" He gurns. "No. I was trying to study it. Look, I used magic to transfer my consciousness into the internet before I even became a demon. I'm planning-."

"To.. transfer yourself into the foetal god..?" I frown. "Is that possible?"

"I think so. It's basically an unformatted data storage device, right? It's not near enough to the surface… To the world, to get specific experience. So if it's got any personality, it comes from its nature. The only things stopping someone from interfacing with it is its raw power and how it's not fully connected to the world yet."

"And you fixed that."

He nods.

"Borrowed a few cultists from demons who owed me favours." He looks mildly puzzled. "Should be.. here…"

He makes eye contact with me.

"Oh, right."

"John Quinn couldn't detect it."

"They're passive and warded. Not easy to detect. I'm a bit surprised he couldn't work around it, but not everyone is as cunning as Constantine. I don't mind trying to work out how to dampen the side effects. If I get some help-."

"Plan 'Richard Simpson Becomes a God' is firmly off the table. Ring, contact the Justice League."

 

[Mr Zoat]

22nd July 2012
14:58 GMT -5

"Is this really necessary?"

Mr. Simpson is bound in current generation suppression chains, and since he's maintaining his human-seeming appearance it does look a bit like overkill.

"Yes."

John Quinn is in full Dr. Fate regalia, something which still gets a twitch out of me when I see it.

Angelica nods.

"You are a demon lord and an accomplished magician. You will stay in the chains until we have determined what to do with you."

Angelica on the other hand is wearing a business suit, but that's probably because she was doing a normal working day before getting called in. With Satanus out of the picture and his cultists in prison on a variety of charges, she's… Not Bruce Wayne rich, but certainly comfortable.

"Though, naturally, the more helpful you are, the more likely we are to reach an agreement that suits you as well."

"I already told you where all the ritual sites are. I'll take you to the ones in cyberspace if you want, just… Please don't let them take me back."

Dr. Balewa is simply dressed as is his wont, but he's in full Dr. Mist mode and my eyes are having a little difficulty in focusing properly on his physical body. It's like his flesh is… Simplified, while his body paint stands out more and is more… More alive. His outline wavers slightly as his body returns to normal, and he nods.

"It is as he says. It will take several days to render them inert, but it is well within our abilities."

"And what will the practical effects of that be?"

Dr. Balewa closes his eyes as he considers.

"It.. is.. hard to say. It may be thet we will find thet the God of Technology is now much closer to coming awake, but it may well be thet the forced exposure in fact pushes it further from the world. In either case, these manifestations should cease once the spells are dissolved."

"Until they start again." Angelica wing-shrugs. "All Richard's efforts achieved is to bring forward the point at which they start."

Dr. Balewa shakes his head. "I am not convinced. If the mind is not prepared, the shock of exposure would naturally be far worse."

"If it's a problem, I should be able to feed it to the Ophidian."

John's helmet jerks in my direction. "No."

Dr. Balewa nods, raising his right hand in a pacifying gesture. "Thet would.. not be wise. A god like this emerging into the world is traumatic enough without it being one with the concept of avarice. I will dive deeply into the Dream, and learn what I can of it. Then we can discuss the matter further."

Angelica nods. "Agreed. We'll need to brief the rest of the League as well. How we deal with emergent gods is a policy question."

"It seems more like a political decision rather than dealing with a threat or providing aid. Given the breadth of its influence, do you think it's worth referring the matter to the Security Council?"

Dr. Balewa waves his right hand. "Perhaps, when we have a better idea of what is happening and can… Eh…"

Angelica smiles. "Dumb it down for them."

"Explain it in terms they can understand without a lifetime of study."

Richard's face falls.

"Yes, I'm sure that's great, but how does it help me?"

"I know where your remains are. It shouldn't be hard for me to clone a copy of your body."

He frowns.

"I can't possess something without a soul."

"How about an android body? We already know how to incorporate thaumic elements into the design."

"If I'm just hiding, the wards would have to be really good."

Angelica frowns. "Why not just create a giant demonic robot and tell everyone that you're leaving it in charge while you pursue a scheme on Earth? It could take centuries before it occurs to anyone to question it."

"If it's clever enough to run things then it's clever enough to want to be in charge for real. And clever enough to find me."

"Then build one that's just clever enough to be a stalking horse. Anyone who wants to overthrow you will have to attack the obvious target first, which will give you plenty of warning."

"He can stay here." John gestures at the Tower's interior with his left hand. "The Tower is proof against demons, and it can keep an eye on him when I'm not here."

Mr. Simpson doesn't look thrilled at the prospect. "I do want to actually have a life."

"I have a workshop you can occupy. It's disconnected from the Earth, so I don't have to worry about you transferring yourself out."

"I think I prefer the robot option."

"If Orange Lantern wants to be your parole officer and monitor you all day every day, then he can build a robot body for you."

I look into Richard Simpson with empathic vision. He's a tricky one. He never went through Hell's inefficient conversion process. He's being honest about his motives, but… He's been in Hell on survival mode for a long time. I can't trust him not to do the demon thing of seeking power regardless of consequences.

"That's… Not practical. I go off-planet for extended periods, and you know how that messes magic up. How about just asking Mammon for help?"

"No no no no no." Richard shakes his head emphatically. "That's a terrible idea. He's had a downsizing obsession since the eighties! He'll have me broken up for parts! Or just broken up and stuck back together with the bits he doesn't like missing!"

Angelica nods. "He probably would."

"Alright, compromise. We build a basic robot body for you but you stay here. Doctor Fate serves as your parole officer. If he judges that granting you more freedom is worth the risk, if you make yourself useful, then you get more freedom."

"I don't understand why you're being so hostile. I died fighting a doomsday cult!"

Through the Helmet's eye holes I see John's eyes narrow.

"If you wanted forbearance then you shouldn't have attacked the Justice League. You're being given a chance because no one was seriously hurt."

And because the League isn't especially eager for the existence of the Watchtower to become common knowledge. For some reason. If it was me I'd probably find its existence reassuring.

Richard sighs. "I suppose it's better than Hell." He rattles his chains weakly. "Can you do something about this now?"

John holds out his right hand, a glowing golden ankh appearing in the air next to it. The binding chains vanish, appearing in a coil by my feet. A far simpler binding collar with an ankh decoration appears around Richard's neck. He takes hold of it with his right hand and tugs it up to look at it, then drops it with a shrug.

"I'll need to go back to Earth to build the robot. Do you want one that looks like you, or one that doesn't?"

"If I'm staying in here, it doesn't really matter."

I nod. "Alright, I'll get on with that. But while we're all here… No one's heard anything about what John Constantine's been doing with himself?"

Angelica and Dr. Balewa shake their heads.

"Huh. Okay. Could you please send out some feelers? I'm starting to get a little concerned."

 

[Mr Zoat]

24th July 2012
14:31 GMT

"I appreciate the thought, Paul, but it just wouldn't work."

Hephaestus peers through his magnifying glasses at the contraption on his work bench, a thing that will eventually form the magic containment for Richard Simpson's android body. It's based on the design Thomas Morrow used for Danni and Red Tornado, but it needs to be able to handle demonic magic. The model the Morrow construct put together most decidedly wasn't.

"Why not?"

He leans back in his seat, his brow furrowing.

"Have you ever tried eating an entire roasted ox yourself in one sitting?"

"No?"

"Now, imagine that rather than eating it, you were trying to just slide it into your skull next to your brain. And then closed your skull right up again."

"You know, I do understand enough about thaumaturgy that you don't have to resort to nonsensical metaphors to explain these things to me."

He swivels the chair around to face me.

"Okay. A better metaphor would be to say that I'd dissolve. The God of Technology is colossal. If Doctor Fate says that it's a god and not a titan then I'll believe him, but it's going to be far more powerful than any god in our pantheon."

"'Our'?"

"The Greek pantheon doesn't exactly have a God of Avarice. When you finally do die, Hades might decide to kick you upstairs."

"I-. I don't think that's a good idea."

Hephaestus chuckles quietly. "When has that ever stopped us? You're looking at the man who dragged Aphrodite and Ares to Olympus in a net. I'm lame. Have you got any idea how far I had to drag them? Ares spent the first day cursing me, then just went to sleep until we got to the throne room."

He turns back to his work.

"'Rage is a hell of an anaesthetic'?"

"Stubbornness makes you ignore how stupid you're being."

"Zeus said 'no' to the divorce petition, then?"

"I think there was a 'no' somewhere in between all the guffaws. It was hard to tell."

"Sorry about that."

"I'm used to it."

"But at least Zeus is over his divorce, right?"

"Don't think you're off the hook, there. Zeus can bear a grudge like an immortal god with no day job to distract him."

"Ugh. Is there a way to pay him off? Or… I don't know, twelve things he urgently needs a demigod to take care of?"

"Not these days. Sorry."

"I'll just have to keep watching the skies, then. But going back to why you can't absorb the God of Technology..?"

"It would be like putting a single drop of ink in an ocean. What was left of me would be too broken apart to function as any kind of directing mind. And that's even assuming that I was compatible."

"Why wouldn't you be?"

"I'm the God of the Forge. Making things. I'm not the god of made things. Remember what happened when you showed me that ingot that got made by nanotech rather than a foundry?"

I nod. He could work it, but it was obviously taking a lot more concentration than a foundry-made ingot.

"Vulcan made the switch from volcanoes."

"This isn't something you can argue away, Paul. It's just how it works, mechanically. And honestly, I'm not sure I'd want it even if I could get it."

He picks up the diabolic responsometer and moves it around, searching for imperfections. He doesn't appear to find any.

"Okay, this is done. You okay making the rest?"

I nod. "I can make a non-combat model. If Richard wants something a bit heavier then he can negotiate with John."

He nods, passing it to me. I take it and stow it in my carry case.

"Vulcan? You about done?"

A fully exploded Earl Dukeston the Second is strapped to a series of custom gurneys as Vulcan inscribes the runes required to enable him to develop a metaphysique onto every component. It's a little disturbing how he's awake, aware, and watching with what appears to be genuine interest. It's hard to tell exactly how he feels, as his faux skin was an early casualty of the process.

"Just about."

"Ah'm a real boy, Pah?"

"I do mechanical engineering and magic. If you want a penis, talk to Paul."

"I can build you a penis, but I don't understand your programming well enough to integrate it into your mind."

"Ah don't have those kinda drives. Docs said it'd take a whole mess of hormones and suchlike they couldn't just program into my noggin. Sides, what would ah do with that kinda thing?"

"Whatever you want. That's the point. But your body, your peripheral choices. Vulcan, is Richard's fetish making it any easier?"

Not pausing in his work, Vulcan nods.

"I don't know what he was hoping to achieve with this, but he did good work. It almost seamlessly draws the God of Technology's magic from the Dream and integrates it into the world. Let him know I'm genuinely impressed."

"I will."

"With that, binding magic to Earl's frame and making it act like a normal soul is much easier. Have you shared it with the Atlanteans?"

"I haven't, but I'm sure that the League will."

"This could make integrating machinery and magic much easier."

"Ah'm going to have to talk to mah pastor about this magic stuff."

"Shouldn't you have done that before..?"

"Way ah saw it, whatever he thought of magic, he wasn't going to complain about me getting a soul."

"Do you feel any different?"

"Ah ain't exactly at mah best right this second. Maybe kinda… Twinkley? Ah don't really know what having a soul's supposed to feel like."

"Okay." Vulcan puts his soldering iron down and pulls a lever, unlocking the clamps holding Mr. Dukeston down. "That should do it."

Mr. Dukeston pulls himself together, concertining back into a single seat and looking himself over.

"No, still feel the same ole me. Guess a soul's something you grow into."

 

[Mr Zoat]

25th July 2012
19:22 GMT

"…observation for now, though We have high hopes that Our niece will begin participating before the winter solstice."

I nod as Luna and I walk through the Canterlot Palace without a particular direction in mind. It gets me used to walking with four legs, and it's actually more comfortable than sitting or laying down.

"I thought that her talent was in the field of empathy?"

"She is an alicorn. Though she lacks Our natural intuition, she has the power to control the heavens if she applies herself to it, and both Sister and I agree that you are correct in your assertion that others must be trained to fulfil our roles. Twilight hath already progressed to actively working with Our Sister on the dawn… Though she struggles to rise at an appropriate hour."

I smile.

"Yeah, I heard about that."

"And I am sure that Sunset keeps you informed of her progress."

"I'm fully confident of Sunset's ability to master any spell that interests her, so I generally don't bother to ask her about that aspect of their time together. I just ask about how she feels about Celestia, and feed back to Celestia about what to do and.. not do."

Luna nods.

"We thought that We had heard less shouting of late."

"And what about the other little ponies?"

Luna shakes her head.

"None who are not alicorns could hope to bear the burden. Even Twilight, who before her ascension was the most powerful unicorn in Equestria, would not have been able to perform such a feat."

"So the thing about pre-Exodus unicorns performing the raising in groups is just a story?"

"We could not say. Having read your book on stellar dynamics, We have reached the view that it is not impossible that Discord is indeed to blame for the state of our geocentric system. From what Our archaeologists have discovered of those times, pony astronomy was not much advanced. T'would be natural for them to assume that the motion of the sun had it orbit around our firmament, while modern ponies would need to reach for an explanation of who moved the sun before Our Sister's ascension."

"What did Discord say?"

She wrinkles her nose as if bearing fragrant witness to a pile of dung.

"He ducked the question, then fled when We mentioned your name. Mayhap… You could consider…"

"I'm going to want to see a lot more evidence of reformation before I consider tolerating Discord."

"But you will consider it?"

"I will. Don't tell him. Just let me know if he makes any actual measurable progress." I frown. "Oh, and going back to Twilight's lessons, I think Celestia tried to prank me. Which is progress. I didn't think we had that sort of relationship."

"Our Sister does have a somewhat unique sense of humour. What did she do?"

"She said that she agreed with me about the whole 'single point of failure' argument, and wanted to know what I thought about training Twilight up for executive office as well as controlling the sun and moon."

"We do not see the prank. Twilight Sparkle is a highly capable young mare, and far better educated in such matters than either Our Sister or I were when we ascended to alicornhood."

"Last time Twilight got put in charge of the country she personally went looking for you in a forest full of magic resistant super vines, completely ignoring the actual running the country part. Look, how much administrative experience does Twilight have?"

"She has been instrumental in running several celebratory events in Ponyville."

I sigh.

"You do not consider that adequate?"

"Luna, you were 'running' a feudal nation of a few thousand ponies. Equestria is a lot bigger, more centralised and more complicated than that these days, and… Twilight's roles as librarian and arcane trouble shooter don't really lend themselves to allowing her to study all of the fields that she would have to master in order to run a country. And then there's the fact that… Neither her skills nor her personality really lend themselves to the role. And then there's the fact that she'd have to move back to Canterlot full time-."

"Perhaps we have decided to take your suggestion and move the capital."

"Ponyville isn't ready to become Equestria's capital. Even if you could turn Twilight's crystal palace into a centre of government, it doesn't have the population or infrastructure. If you wanted to put the capital somewhere else, it's… Basically just Manehattan that could serve in the role, and that's on the east coast. And even worse for taking Twilight away from her friends."

I close my eyes for a moment.

"So Celestia wasn't pranking me?"

"We hath not discussed it betwixt ourselves. We had thought that it would be a natural progression of Twilight's role, though We take your point concerning her character."

"Training Twilight so that she can handle things in the short term if the two of you get nobbled isn't a terrible idea, when anyone who does anything against you will get the pleasure of my company within a short span of time. But actually governing long term? I'm not so sure."

"What would be your suggestion?"

"How about actually developing a legislature? Most places in Equestria already elect their mayors rather than bowing to feudal lords. Ponies understand voting for their leaders."

"Excuse Us if we are surprised to hear the Alicorn of Conquest suggest sharing power."

"It's the only practical way to get things done. And I'm not Darkseid."

"Ah-. Your pardon, We did not-."

"No, it's-. It's fine." She looks at me and I smile. "But as far as I'm concerned, you have to involve people in their governance. Not everyone's going to care about everything that happens, but citizenship requires commitment to the institutions of the state you're a part of. If right, to keep them right, and if wrong, to set them right. Having an all-powerful goddess tyrant isn't the cause of the problems in the Equestrian state, but it's a contributory factor. Another is that Celestia's nearly good enough to pull it off."

"You say that Our Sister's mere adequacy is a problem?"

"Britain effectively switched from being a constitutional monarchy to a parliamentary democracy due to Queen Victoria just not doing her job for years on end. New customs and practices evolved to work around the absence of the ruler, creating a new system for running the country. The fact that Celestia's always there means that Equestria's never done that, never needed to work around her absence. And…" I stop walking and bow my head. "It appears that I can't get through even one date without turning it into a lecture on modern Equestrian politics."

"You lasted marginally longer this eve. What hath occurred on Earth of late?"

"Ancient wizard attacked my friend Cranius's home and killed some people. Everyone's on alert, but we're probably not going to find him before he lets us." I shake my head. "This really isn't setting the tone I was going for."

"We are both political figures of note. Tis no surprise that such matters are the subject of our discussions."

"Yes, but I got you a present, and I wanted… Something lighter. Maybe something cultural."

She looks me over.

"We do not see any gift."

"No it's not here. Mother Box."

"Ping!"

BOOM!

We stroll through the tube, emerging in a clearing just ahead of the Castle of the Two Sisters.

Luna blinks, staring at the entirely reconstructed fortress.

"Obviously I had no idea what the soft furnishings were like-."

Her tail flicks me in the nose as she prances forward, smiling excitedly. Then she charges for the drawbridge, and I gallop after-.

I get up and gallop after her.

 

[Mr Zoat]

Negetiations

2nd August 2012
09:00 GMT

"No, no, I like it."

I look up at the anatomy arena, as physicians, magicians, medically and theologically orientated Lanterns and a surprising number of Controllers look back.

"Very nineteenth century. And since that was when my country was at the peak of its relative power, I'm taking that as a good sign."

Hinon shakes her head.

"Please limit yourself to pertinent comments. Stand there."

Rather than nod or point, she merely looks at a point just a little back from the centre of the examination space. I shrug and stride over to my appointed place before turning back to her. I widen my stance and spread my arms a little.

"Like this?"

"Acceptable." She glances up at the audience for a moment before holding out her right hand and calling a small tool to her.

"Not a bad showing. How do you feel about the turnout?"

"If I recall correctly, don't your species wrap screens about crashed ground vehicles, in order to prevent others jamming your highways by ghoulishly staring at them?"

"No. Sometimes we just let people watch. We learn best from worked examples, and it's hard to get a better example than an actual wreck with actual mangled bodies in it."

"I'm sure that you're every bit as fascinating as a mangled piece of wreckage."

"High praise. But really. I know that you're ancient, but I'm reasonably well informed on Guardian history and I don't think you've had this sort of following amongst the younger races ever. The Controllers separated before they started up the Halla. Isn't this a novel experience for you?"

"I have personally created more species than are represented here. And many of them I created intentionally."

"Nothing?"

"As much as anything else."

"You want to swap places after this, see if I can fix that? It can't be a pleasant way to live."

"The day I trust an infant like you to 'fix' my psyche is the day I let you. It will not be swift in coming."

I smile. "Are you doing this? I didn't think you were a magician."

"Do you just not pay attention when I say how old I am? I don't habitually use magic because taking advantage of the etheric ripples created by beings younger and weaker than me is wasteful."

"So-?"

The three Lanterns who will be serving as her assistants enter. Lantern Natu I recognise at once. I raise my right hand in greeting, but she remains almost aggressively impassive. I've rather been avoiding her since she caved to common sense and picked up the ring I left with her, but I suppose the chance to study me was more than she could pass up.

The other two I don't immediately recognise, though I do recognise Lantern… Nax's? Species. Vagabond Dominator knock-offs, the Naidroth Collective are a minor but persistent nuisance across this galaxy, unnecessarily vivisecting people for data they could just as easily get by asking for a data file at a local hospital. I've firmly categorised them as 'Stupid Evil', though by Dungeons and Dragons definitions I suppose that they'd be 'Unwise Evil'. And the other fellow is…

Lantern Hieronymous the Under-Achiever. That's… That's actually the name on his file.

"I did recruit a number of wizards whose surnames aren't 'under-achiever'."

"No need to worry about that, Lord Illustres!" He's smiling too much for someone that far gone into the orange light. "My problem was always one of motivation!" I can see the sigils in his eyes. I'm… Genuinely surprised that he's functional. "And with the orange light driving me on, there's no stopping me!"

Oh. It… Looks like actually being able to do something useful is such a novel experience for him that even in what should be full megalomaniacal mode he's actually fairly placid.

"Okay, so where do you want to start?"

Lantern Natu nods. "Please remove your ring and your clothes."

"As you wish."

My robes vanish into subspace, followed by my underwear. My ring I float over to Controller Hinon. She looks at it for a moment, then sends it over to her equipment rack with a wave of her left hand.

"Okay, so what's ne-?"

My point of view jumps forward, and a humanoid-. That's the back of my head. There's also a non-trivial amount of pain, but that's far more manageable. Empathic vision is still working…

"This is strange."

Lantern Nax blinks at me.

"Are you not in pain?"

"A bit. What's happening?"

"I have physically separated your different body tissues so that we may more easily study them."

"Um. How?"

"My parents called it psychic vivisection. I'm not exactly sure how it works. I have never done it to anyone who didn't immediately start screaming in agony."

"It hurts, but I wouldn't say that it's scream-worthy. Then again, I suspect that I'm not an entirely physical intelligence any more."

I try moving, but my perspective doesn't change. I can however see my arm moving in front of me. So I assume that I'm floating off the ground, and… My tissues have been separated?

"We shall study how that works in detail. Lantern Natu?"

"The subject is an adult humanoid male of the human species, thirty one years of age. Currently occupying his third body after the first was destroyed by magic-using Source-worshippers-"

"And sword-using."

"-and the second was destroyed in a qwa-matter explosion."

I look up-. And wave up at Lantern Gozzi.

"The subject has used his ring to turn each body into a facsimile of his original, which he considered to be 'ideal'. Here, we will compare the structures of his body to his original and study the effect of intense orange light exposure on neurological structures. Please hold any questions until the end."

Oh joy.

 

[Mr Zoat]

2nd August 2012
10:24 GMT +3

"…back to the point we've been circling around since the Sheeda first appeared." Minister for National Defence Lukas Frangopoulos bangs a wad of papers against the cabinet table in barely suppressed frustration. "We just can't afford any of this. And we're not going to be able to afford it."

I nod thoughtfully. It's been a while since I've been a cabinet minister, but with the previous office holder dead and the Sheeda running rampant across the Earth -and the global economy barely existing in any significant fashion- the Prime Minister recalled me to duty. I've made a point of looking a little older, just in case someone takes too close a look at one of the pictures decorating the walls from last time I held the office of Finance Minister. My return had a slight stabilising effect as a result of public confidence, but there are still limits to what I can do with so little to work with.

Our sources of foreign revenue are tourists and agricultural exports. Tourists… Tourism itself barely exists any longer. Mercifully, the Sheeda didn't appear to have any interest in sites of historical significance so… Perhaps, in the fullness of time, things might recover.

"We simply cannot afford the sort of super weapon research program that the Americans, Russians and Chinese can. We can't buy enough of their end products to make a difference. We can't hire any of the handful of individuals on the planet who could take up the burden of our defence. We can -slowly- rebuild our conventional forces, but at the moment the strongest military force in Greece is the Congregation's volunteers."

"And Luthor's… Offer…" Frangopoulos shakes his head. "It's not even worth considering."

The Prime Minister looks impassive.

"His suits worked. We all saw them kill Sheeda invaders. And the dogs could bite through steel."

Frangopoulos shakes his head again.

"His power armour is combat effective for an hour at a time, requires highly specialised and expensive maintenance and it would leave us completely dependent on him for our defence. And the dogs have no supernatural abilities beyond their strength. They cannot fly, or find enemies hidden by magic." He looks around the room. "You have all had the same intelligence briefings that I have. That is not a man I would trust with my wallet, let alone the lives of everyone in Greece."

The Prime Minister nods. "Professor Prokopios? Do you have anything?"

I nod. "Nothing that will simply fix our problem, I am afraid. I have been in contact with the Orange Lantern." Hm. "Some time ago he purchased a British chocolate manufacturer, and has been improving their distribution network with Dolmen Gates. They are a type of magic portal; put something in one and they come out of another. His company are expanding their network in an effort to stimulate global trade, and I persuaded him to ensure that we were included."

On the face of it, globalisation was entirely rational. Resources are extracted from where they are most readily available and transported to where they can best be used. Wars disrupt that, but unless your country was directly involved they could be worked around. And even if your country was directly involved, it was generally possible to see an attack coming and make appropriate preparations. The days of soldiers manning the ramparts because an unfamiliar sail was seen on the horizon are long past.

And then the Sheeda attacked with little warning, and the whole brittle system came tumbling down. I hadn't properly accounted for the possibility of an attack of this sort. And now… We're a net exporter of foodstuffs. We aren't in danger of going hungry as people in some places are, but supplies of certain types of non-essential products are going to become rare. Price inflation is going to become a problem.

"The practical upshot will be that it will become marginally easier for us to import and export at least a small volume of material. We will have to arrange-" I nod to the Minister for Foreign Affairs. "-the appropriate legislation and protocols for a small border inside our country, and of course someone will have to talk to the Archbishop of Athens about us accepting the public use of a magic artefact-."

The Prime Minister nods, waving his right hand.

"Don't worry about that. They don't use demons or spirits of any kind. If it gets trade flowing again, we need it."

I nod noncommittally. It's been a worry of mine for a while, but… "I am well aware that I am the only person at this table who did not swear his oath of office on a bible. And I am aware that people are understandably sensitive at this time."

"I'll talk to the Archbishop."

I nod, this time with more confidence. The Orthodox churches are less open minded about magic than the Catholic Church is, but generally more so than the Evangelical Protestants. So long as it is a purely mechanistic use of magic the Archbishop will probably accept it.

"Otherwise, there is little for me to add. My Ministry's loan scheme for areas of proven economic demand but no local supply continues to be over-subscribed. We will never be entirely self-sufficient, but I believe that the shortages will ease within two years. On the matter of defence… I do have an idea, though I am not sure how palatable it will be."

Frangopoulos shrugs. "We may as well hear it."

"Themyscira was not troubled at all by the Sheeda. They-."

The Minister for Shipping and Island Policy shakes her head.

"The Old Gods might be prepared to bless a small island, but they will never do that to all of Greece. Unless you're suggesting that we abandon Christian-. You're a Hellenist."

I nod.

"Something like that. But that was not what I meant. I am aware that they have recently improved their ability to produce enchanted weapons; not to an industrial scale, but far more than they once had. As you are aware, their hoplite armour is proof against automatic weapon fire, and their swords can cut through sheet metal. And that is just their normal soldiers."

Frangopoulos frowns. "You're not talking about Wonder Woma-. They have more like her?"

"Not quite like her, but they have other demi-goddesses. Why do you think-" I point to a framed photograph on the wall behind him, prompting half the cabinet to look around. "-that the statue of Herakles was covered during Queen Hippolyta's last state visit?"

"Because she thought it was a bad likeness?"

"No, because he raped her and at least a hundred other Amazons, which is why they left the mainland in the first place. We were fortunate in that she did not appear to know what the hoarding concealed." It's a little surprising that they didn't know that, though I suppose the Amazons don't generally like to talk about it. "He has many daughters on Themyscira today. And there are a few others who claim descent from other gods. Since Themyscira is opening itself to the outside world, it may be that they would listen favourably to a request from the Greek government."

The Prime Minister nods. "Amazon super soldiers."

"They can have more than human abilities in a number of fields, but strength, agility and speed are common ones. They also have instinctive low level magic abilities, inherited from their… Ah, Olympian forebears."

"Will they work for us?"

"It is my understanding that Amazons are increasingly willing to leave their island. America has been a more popular destination than Greece, but I imagine that if we make an offer that at least some will accept."

"And what will Queen Hippolyta want in return? I don't think that we.. want to offer her a throne."

Now there's a thought. Of course, the position of king was ceremonial for a long time before finally being abolished, but it would be interesting to see Hippolyta in command of a modern nation.

"I doubt that she will ask for much. A few small islands or a recognition of their territorial waters. Though if that is unpalatable, there is another option."

"Yes?"

"Demigods are the children of the gods. There is a young girl in America who is the daughter of Zeus, and a dryad has taken the Amazon Rainforest as her domain. If-."

The Minister of the Interior frowns. "If we whore out Greek women to the demon gods of a dead religion, they may give birth to demon children."

"Or men. The children of goddesses are just as powerful as the children of gods. It would cost a little more than hiring Amazons, but the resulting children would be Greek citizens familiar with the modern world."

"If you think-!"

"No." The Prime Minister shakes his head. "I will speak with Queen Hippolyta, but Greece is not in the business of… Eugenics. Do you have anything else to bring to our attention."

I shake my head. "No."

"Then onto the next item on the agenda."

 

[Mr Zoat]

4th August 2012
15:13 GMT

I sag slightly as Lantern Natu walks into the waiting room.

"What more is there?"

Lantern Natu shakes her head. "No. We're finished with you. I just thought that you might be interested in the results."

"Yes, of course I am. I-." I frown. "Does this make you my doctor?"

"I'm a chirurgical specialist. General practice isn't my field. If you want a personal doctor, the Darkstars have a medical corps. Your personal medical information can be passed along to anyone you authorise."

"Alright then. So what am I?"

"As you've probably realised-" She generates a wire frame construct which appears to be describing something dimensionally exotic-. Oh, that's me. "-your core self is increasingly immaterial. Though not to the degree that an actual god's avatar is; you do still need a body to live."

"So if I die in deep space without a handy cloned body around?"

"You can't maintain your consciousness without a medium any more than I can. But you're more.. organised. If you cloned a body for anyone else in that situation, nothing would happen. You just need a little orange light, and your consciousness decompresses on its own."

"So we're cloning me."

She nods.

"That seems like a logical precaution. I can't order you to do that, but not everyone thinks as quickly as Lantern Gozzi."

"How complete would the clone have to be?"

"You only need a brain to sustain your consciousness, the same as the rest of us. You'd probably need a few moments to adapt, but you could use a ring to transmute a new body. You wouldn't have any sensory input, and that's been shown to have adverse psychological consequences in most humanoid species… Though not among individuals who have achieved enlightenment. Not that we know for certain that it doesn't, there just aren't enough examples to draw a conclusion."

"And if I don't have a ring then I'd be stuck."

She nods. "I'd recommend including eyes at the very least."

"Would cybernetics work?"

"I'm… Not sure how you were planning to sustain a living brain without cybernetics, but… Yes?"

"No, I mean, integrated. One of the reasons that I've been shy about using cybernetics is that I've been assuming that my ring would destroy them as they weren't part of my self-concept."

"You'll need to talk to a psychologist about that. But I can't see why connecting things from outside of the brain would disrupt your resurrection."

"So I'd need my whole brain."

She frowns.

"I don't understand why that's hard to accept."

"Oh, no, it isn't. I'm just worried what happens if the Reach get hold of one of my spares." She nods in understanding. "Our ships are tough, not invulnerable. I'm resigned to them getting a sample of my genetic material eventually, but I'd rather that they didn't get a copy of my thoughts or memories."

"The brain needs to be genetically yours. It doesn't need to have your memories encoded on it."

"Ah. No problem then, I suppose. Anything else?"

"Your body isn't quite identical each time you've restored yourself. I'm currently working on the assumption that it's due to changes in your self-concept, but I'm not telepathic."

"Just as long as I'm not changing into Larfleeze."

"There's no need to worry about that. Each version of you has been genetically and physiologically human. I assume that you haven't been tempted to try genetic modification either?"

"No, same issue as cybernetics."

"I've seen genetic modification go wrong far more often then cybernetic implantation. Given how good you are at manipulating things with your ring, you could probably avoid most of them. But I recommend avoiding it unless you really need it."

"You..? Do you have problems with that yourself?"

Her faces takes on a stern expression.

"I joined the Corps because it was the right thing to do. We're not friends. I don't intend to answer personal questions."

"That's fair. Do you want me to take some sort of message to your cousin Amon Sur? I.. think you're each the only natural family-."

"I don't want you-. Involved in any of my personal relations, either."

"That's… Fine in theory, but…" I shrug. "We're using power rings. And while I don't think I told you anything you didn't need to hear, I appreciate that I have disrupted your life in a fairly substantial way. If I can make that up to you, then I will."

"Are you.. negotiating with me?"

"I suppose? I want to make up for what I did up to you, and since you're not coming up with anything I thought I'd suggest things. Did you get your student loan paid off?"

"Yes. Okay, let me…" She looks away. "Think about this."

"I have healing beams. They won't recharge away from a thaumically active world, but they can repair most things."

"You couldn't bring me Sinestro's head, could you?"

I should probably ask Dox for a summary of their conversation at some point. Honest deniability has its benefits, but given that I am the person who would probably get sent against him I think getting all the details ahead of time would be wiser.

"That's… That has political sensitivity. And I don't know where he is, anyway."

She gives an amused snort. "But you're sure you can beat him?"

"Given how often Lantern Jordan's beaten him, and the usual outcome of a spar between Jordan and I… Pretty sure. Even if he's been somehow both staying under the radar and engendering fear across the galaxy, I'd be reasonably confident in single combat with most other Lanterns. And I'm sure that the Guardians would have noticed Parallax going missing. But if… That's not really an option?"

"I don't… Really think there's anything. Try to do that less?"

I shrug. "Again, if it was just me, I've got a galaxy full of physicians. But it's not. It's what the Corps needs. It's what needs to happen for the Reach to lose. And… You've seen our records on what they're like, right?"

She nods, eyes dipping.

"I've spoken to the survivors. Given what I know about the government line on Korugar, I thought I'd check with primary sources."

I nod. "Perfectly reasonable. So, I'm cleared for duty?"

She shuts down her display construct.

"As far as I can tell, you're as healthy as you've ever been."

"Thank you. Then it's time to see where Dox wants me."

 

[Mr Zoat]

4th August 2012
15:20 GMT

"Here."

I'm mildly pleased that Dox remembers to both look at the hologram and look me in the eyes. His social skills are definitely improving. In pigeon toes rather than leaps and bounds, but progress is progress. The location he points to…

"That's well outside of the conflict zone. Yes, I know that it's on a trade route the Reach use, but I don't see why you want me there."

Other images flick up, and I accelerate my perception to keep up with the information on display. Things seem to be progressing well. Reach fleets are retreating after making token resistance in.. most places, and Grayven's followers and ours are mostly avoiding one another as intended.

"I know that I'm not essential-."

"You will be. The Reach are building up for a serious counterattack. We have about three weeks though, and I'd like to have you fully rested and not dead when it happens."

"I could do a spoiler attack?"

"That would just make them delay it. I'll send you after one of their fleet concentrations, but only close to the time they plan to begin their attack."

I raise my eyebrows.

"We know when that is?"

"It's a matter of logistics and organisation. They can only do it after a certain time, and if they leave it too long then we'll be able to take advantage of the patrol fleets they've transferred to their offensive fleet. The Reach are… Capable practitioners of information security."

"They've been doing this for a while. Evolution versus intelligent design."

"They can't match me. But that doesn't mean that they're going to make it easy." He switches the hologram from fleet deployments and progress reports to an image of planet… Yuna. "This is where I'm sending you. The Reach have a presence here. We've been concerned that otherwise disinterested parties might start to involve themselves if there were an interruption to their existing trade routes. Darkstar intelligence suggests that Yuna's trade league is considering it."

"Considering military action?"

"Perhaps. Certainly considering authorising privateers and sanctions against our allies."

"I thought we'd mostly arranged things so that we could trade within our alliance bloc?"

"For vital materials, certainly. Some luxury products are imported, and we haven't tried to block our partners trading outside of our bloc."

I nod.

"Anything else?"

"Show the flag. Publically demonstrate that you are still alive. The Reach aren't boasting openly about killing you, but it has been mentioned. And if you can talk them around to supporting us and abandoning their trading relationship with the Reach, that would be beneficial."

"What do the Reach get out of it? Their industry isn't much more primitive than ours."

"Information, luxury goods and occasionally pieces of highly advanced technology. Of those, luxury goods are the most essential to their civilisation."

"They are?"

"The Reach practises a form of militant capitalism. Their system promises its citizens luxuries in return for service and loyalty. Without external trade their social order cannot function."

"So we're making plans to unleash our own privateers?"

"I have a plan, certainly. I won't be authorising its use, because there's no way we could conquer and occupy Reach space before they restabilised into a more rational social model that actually improved their ability in war-fighting."

"Then-?"

"In the unlikely event that you are that successful, removing a single trade artery from their system won't have that effect."

"Rightoh. What am I taking with me?"

"You formed a rapport with Lantern Drusa, and she is sufficiently cunning to make up for your complete failure in matters of subtlety."

That's fair.

"You will also travel with a trade convoy, which will be escorted by a small L.E.G.I.O.N. fleet. The fleet is intended for light anti-piracy work."

"So don't pick a fight with the Reach."

"Don't pick a fight with anyone. Yuna isn't Vega; it's a civilised world in a civilised region. You won't win people over by beating people up."

"Understood. Are meetings with the relevant officials already set up, or should I arrange them myself?"

"Have Lantern Drusa set it up once you're in system."

"Why would-?" I sigh. "Harbour pilots?"

"They are close to a war zone."

"Please tell me they can use FTL in-system?"

"At low speeds and at set angles of approach."

"Okay, I'll bring a long book. Anything else I need to know about?"

"Lantern Xor has been busy. The Alignment has collapsed into open civil war, much to the pleasure of their neighbours."

I smile. That is good news.

"I'll send him a card. Any likely blowback over here?"

"It might be nice to add them to L.E.G.I.O.N., once the situation stabilises. The fleet assigned to Earth can be there relatively quickly. Do you still need them on station?"

"No, I don't think so. Honestly, once the Sheeda were dealt with I probably didn't really need them to stop King Orin doing something stupid. Having them around is useful and I'm sure they're gathering all sorts of useful data, but it's not a problem if you want to send them somewhere else."

"I will bear that in mind. You are dismissed, Illustres. Lantern Drusa is awaiting your message."

I give him a shallow bow, then turn and walk out of his office.

"How did it go?"

Ratchet moves his tentacles in a gesture of polite enquiry, the slight tremor suggesting an undercurrent of worry. I glance back for a moment as the door closes.

"Pretty well. I'm going back to work for the Corps. Is Dox having any problems?"

"No." Emphatic negation gesture. "His position remains stable. Most Orange Lanterns and ship-captains are happy so long as the Reach continues to lose. His social skills have improved… Somewhat."

"I noticed. Good work with that."

"It was really more Brande's work. Though I did help."

I smile. "Keep helping. I'll speak to you when I get back."

 

[Mr Zoat]

4th August 2012
15:33 GMT

"So?"

Lantern Drusa looks at me a little cautiously.

"So?"

"How have you been? How do you feel about our mission? Are there any developments in your skills regarding which you need to apprise me?"

"Well enough. It's a job. I'm… Not a god..?"

"Me neither."

I take a seat on the opposite side of the refectory table, the various L.E.G.I.O.N.-affiliated personnel around us suddenly taking a great deal more interest. At least, those who aren't heading for what they imagine to be minimum safe distance.

Come on. Becoming a god's not that hard. Have these people even met a god?

"And I wasn't expecting you to be a god. I was wondering how much progress you'd made in finding out what it is that you most value?"

Her eyes drop to… Her copy of 'The Grace of Aulier'? A religious book from her homeworld.

"I'm not finding it here." She stares into my eyes. "How did you become immortal?"

"Did you try reading my book?"

She nods. "You abhor decay."

I extend my right forefinger and point to a worn section of her book as it is restored back to prime condition. Then a scuff on the table, a faint stain…

"I abhor decay. My environmental shield undoes it without me even really thinking about it."

"How do you get like that?"

"I don't know, exactly. I didn't grow up in a-" I point to her book again. "-religious household. But I did go to a religious primary school. And I wasn't really… I'm not naturally inclined to question things that I'm told-."

She blinks, her mouth falling open slightly for a moment before she closes it again, trying to make it look like she wasn't astonished.

"I grew up surrounded by trustworthy people. I know, I was lucky. But when the local vicar gave weekly sermons I just… Accepted that was how the universe worked. And then… When I learned a little more about the world around me, I couldn't relate the fantastical stuff that he was saying with.. practical reality. That was when I first came to believe that death was permanent."

"It still is for most people."

I shake my head.

"No. Lantern Corps policy involves shipping our corpses back to our homeworlds where possible, or a friendly world where it's not. Your soul will end up somewhere. Did you see my tattoos?"

"… Yes."

"That's what I had to do to even get a soul. Well before I developed my current level of pain resistance, I volunteered to have my flesh branded so I could benefit from something that you've had your entire life at no cost." I lean back slightly. "Once I stopped believing in God, I stopped believing in souls. And if souls didn't exist, death was inevitable oblivion."

"Yes?"

"I can only assume that it was more of a shock to me than it is to you because I had previously believed that it wasn't the case."

"That was it?"

"There was an encounter with a dead chicken as well, but… Yes. I don't like me decaying. I don't like the things around me decaying. The first thing-."

"The first thing you did with your ring was improve your body."

"I can heal myself very easily, too."

"So without having gone through those experiences, I can't make myself immortal."

"No, you probably can. Just not in the same way. Is there really no long-term goal that you're working towards? I-" I shake my head and shrug. "-mean, anything."

She thinks for a moment.

"Which god?"

"Ah… In my home parallel, we haven't had contact with other intelligent species. I don't know if there's anything like the Source Wall. But it was a monotheistic religion worshipping an all-powerful creator deity."

"My peo-. My homeworld had several religions. All they were for me was a source of curse words."

"You didn't grow up with one in-" I point to the book again. "-particular?"

"I'm going through them in alphabetical order. No."

"Okay, so you don't specifically want to be immortal."

"I want to be immortal. I just don't want it as hard as you do. I'm so used to things decaying that it doesn't seem wrong to me."

"If you're interested in taking that route, I know a few telepaths-."

"No."

"Ah, progress! You-."

"I value my mental integrity over becoming a better Lantern."

"'Better' is a loaded term. There's no one right way to be an Orange Lantern. Though-. Have you ever visited Larfleeze?" I get a shallow nod. "That's the wrong way."

"Because he has no desires that are actually his own, he just acts on pure desire."

"That's not a terrible answer. I honestly hadn't thought of it like that." I nod. "But I think you're right. So… Okay, you're having a problem with a visceral drive. Working on pure intellectual desire. Where do you want to end up? If given a choice of jobs, which do you opt for, all other things being equal?"

"I like working with technology. But now I have-" She raises her left hand, ring shimmering. "-the most advanced piece of technology in the universe on my finger."

"Do you want to learn to create them?"

"I could, but then I'd just have the ability to create something I've already got."

"Only machines it has a record of. Have you read the files on my homeworld's scientists?"

"I picked up machines because it made me useful but not threatening. I don't have some great underlying love for technology."

"Okay. Maybe we're taking the wrong approach, here."

"What do you mean?"

"You don't know of anything you really really want? So maybe you just need to try completely new things. How do you feel about model wargaming?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

4th August 2012
17:47 GMT

"…escort will arrive tomorrow, my lord."

The first officer of the largest cargo ship I've seen with my own eyes hasn't stopped genuflecting since she introduced herself. I'm not sure if her culture encourages this sort of behaviour between crew and foreign dignitaries, or if this is just for my benefit. Obviously I could find out with empathic vision, but that would be rude and... Wasn't there a Greek philosopher who got annoyed when one of his slaves told him that the reason his figs tasted sweet was because he was coating them in honey, because he wanted to try and work it out for himself?

Maybe pay a bit more attention to what your servants are doing for you next time.

"And then it's a two day journey, followed by between four and six days in-system, depending on whether a pilot is immediately available or not."

"Yes, Clarissi Dox already warned me about that. Is that a common practice?"

"I'd say that it was the technique used by perhaps one in eight worlds? It's more common around major trading hubs, due to the sheer volume of traffic. I can only apologise for the inconvenience, my lord."

"No, that's fine. Do you have a spare room?"

"Both yourself and Lantern Drusa have been assigned a state room. On a Gigantuous-Class like this we're never short of space."

"Oh. Good. I'm sure that will be fine. Please lead the way?"

She rises, head still bowed, and turns to lead us in the direction of the guest quarters.

Drusa pulls up alongside me as we follow her.

"Six to eight days on this ship."

"We don't need to be on the ship until it arrives at its destination, and we can both fly faster than it can. But since you've got my undivided attention, you may as well make use of it."

"You don't want to plan your approach?"

"I can't plan my approach until I've gotten a look at the people I'm going to be talking to. Without an immediate threat, I can't justify an aggressive approach. Any planet like this is going to have thousands of officials they could send to talk to me, so there's no point in looking at the track record of one or two. And Dox picked me over an actual diplomat, or anyone else who might have had the time to study their culture in depth. So he clearly thinks that's not what the situation calls for."

"Does he expect me to, in your opinion?"

I raise my left eyebrow, glancing at her with my empathic vision turned up. She's.. intentionally keeping herself dim, but I can see enough of-.

"You are aware that you don't need to ingratiate with me, aren't you? My whole function is to help other Lanterns improve. It's what I want, and it's how I serve the Corps. I also don't have anything like the ego that approach requires."

"I apologise."

I wave my right hand.

"Apologise when you mean it. I just don't want you wasting your time by treating me like one of the pirate chiefs you used to work for. Just understand that it's pointless."

"It's not easy to break the habits of a lifetime."

"You've got a whole load of instincts you've cultivated to keep you alive, and now you're in a situation where none of them serve you. And you're intelligent enough to know it." I shrug. "I know a few people like that."

"How have they adapted?"

"Selina… Kind of… Hasn't. She used to be a cat burglar, now she's a cat burglar who doesn't have any reason to steal anything."

Lantern Drusa's eyes glow, then her ring projects a Catwoman construct.

"Do females of your species usually dress like that?"

"There's a subculture. It makes more sense in context."

"A leather subculture?"

"She used to work as a dominatrix. But, no. I was talking about the separation between what my people would call normal clothes and what's normal within the… Within theme-crime circles. Now, before-."

Her eyes flash and she stumbles a step.

"Yes."

"Your… Homeworld is insane." The Selina construct collapses. "How… How..?"

"Yes. We know. The point is that while her costume is striking, it's outlandish within a gap of accepted outlandishness. If you see what I mean. But the point is that she instinctively looks around for people to steal from and objects to steal, while intellectually realising that it wouldn't actually benefit her and that she has everything she was trying to get through theft. I mean, how much time have you spent thinking about how to get hold of my ring?"

"There wouldn't be any point."

"At least you didn't bother trying to deny it." I pull it off my finger. "Want it? I can just get another one."

"I don't-."

"Go on. Put it on. See how it makes you feel."

She takes it from me with her right hand, then slides it onto her left index finger. I don't notice any difference in her environmental shield, which honestly is what I'd expect. Unless Hinon's been holding out on everyone else, which seems unlikely.

"Feel any different?"

"No."

…

"Are you planning on giving it back?"

"I was.. waiting for something to happen."

"Hinon customised that ring for me. If anything was going to happen, it would have happened when you got the ring customised for you."

"I think they gave me one out of general stores."

But she pulls my ring off her finger and holds it out anyway, and I float it back to my finger.

"Thank you. Of course, while I couldn't work out how to help Selina make the change in her thinking that you're struggling with, I managed to help Jade Nguyen make a similar transition. She went from murdering people for money as part of a crazy personality cult on Earth to killing people for the greater good with the Darkstars."

Lantern Drusa's eyes flash orange again.

"Your lover?"

"That's the one. I find the way she was able to make the shift that you're struggling with and that Selina's pretty much given up on to be an extremely attractive trait. Oh! That reminds me of a book I read. If… Back before you joined the Corps, if you found a power ring on an abandoned space station, and you had to hide it from your employer for weeks while you worked out how to use it, how happy would you have been when you finally got it working?"

"Extremely happy."

"And when you just got given it?"

She thinks for a moment, then nods.

"There's a book from Earth called 'Starship Troopers'. A school teacher offers someone who came fourth in a race the prize for first place, and asks if getting it would make him happy. He says no, and the teacher says that.. of course it doesn't. He hasn't earned it. Getting the fourth place prize might make him a little happy because that's what his effort got him, but first?"

I shrug.

"So perhaps we need to work out what tickles your 'I earned this' button."

 

[Mr Zoat]

5th July 2010
14:32 GMT -5

I watch curiously as the brightly glowing humanoid female with rabbit ears below me has some sort of altercation with the local version of Harvey Bullock.

"Removing illegal graffiti and checking that electrical systems and plumbing is up to code requires a work permit?"

"Yer also repairing brick and mortar, replacin' windows, repairin' sidewalks and streets, and gettin' rid of garbage. We got like a dozen different labor unions callin' fer yer head."

I narrow my eyes slightly, then blink as I suddenly start seeing an emotional spectrum which apparently contains fourteen colours rather than the seven I'm used to. This definitely warrants further investigation.

"Well boohoo for them that I'm drying up their bribe money, but the electrical and plumbing systems are literally unsafe here to the point it might actually be safer to live in grass huts in deep Africa. Do you honestly want me to leave people living in buildings where flipping the light switch may one day shock them to death just because some crooked unions and government workers are worried about the bribes they'll be losing out on?"

I drop down beside her, arms folded behind my back.

"Wrong question."

"Agh!"

The lagomorph jumps three metres into the air from a standing start, apparently without ring-assistance. Bullock takes a half-step back, right hand jerking towards his sidearm before his brain fully processes what he's seeing.

"In your own-"

She lands, right hand over her heart and eyes wide.

"-time."

She freezes up for several seconds, eyes fixed on my face.

"Um. Joyful.. being..?"

I raise my left hand and do a Vulcan salute.

"Live long and prosper, Cyan Lantern."

"It's… Um. Teal, actually."

"Ah. I apologise. Teal Lantern. But it's still the wrong question."

She hesitates, taking a moment to study me. Right, no Orange Lantern Corps in this continuity. Which means that the only Orange Lantern she could know about is Larfleeze.

"Aaaand..? Then what's the right question?"

"Do you want to do good, or do you want to listen to a fat fool who wants to stop you doing good?"

Bullock huffs. "Look. I get she's try'na do a good-."

"Stop talking-." I don't look at him. ".-or I give you a six pack."

"I don't drink on dooty."

My orange beam hits him in the abdomen, converting fat into muscle. His shirt and coat sag noticeably. The Teal Lantern stares at him as he pats himself down to try and assess the damage.

"I… Like to try and work inside the system? I want to help but I don't want to get the people who live here in any trouble."

"'Breaking and Decorating' does not fall within the usual purview of the Major Crimes Unit. Even in Gotham, no one is going to be punished because someone else improved their home."

Bullock finishes feeling himself up, a look of bewilderment on his face. But he hasn't survived this long in Gotham by letting strange occurrences distract him from his job. "Alright, asshole, yer under arrest. We can do this-."

"And neither is 'Assault and Betterment'. And if you honestly intend to attempt to arrest me, I suggest that you toddle off and get someone with a little more firepower than that peashooter. Speak again and I will fully restore your hair."

The rabbit frowns. "You're a lot more… Non-crazy than I was… Expecting…"

I nod. "Expecting an Orange Lantern to be, yes, I've met Larfleeze."

She puts her hands on her hips. "Well, you're still being unnecessarily rude. Detective Bullock is just trying to do his job."

"If someone is doing something likely to negatively affect the people you are trying to help, is their motive of primary importance?"

"It still matters!"

"Fine. I just added twelve years to his predicted lifespan. How polite do you want me to be?"

"Ah, look-."

Another orange beam repairs Detective Bullock's receding hair line and male pattern baldness, as well as restoring the pigment lost to stress and poor diet.

"Speak again and your penis will grow by a half inch per word. Teal Lantern, I can see within you the shining desire to catalyse joy. You have on your finger the most powerful tool in the universe. If you're going to let people stop you because your actions are inconvenient to them, I can only suggest going home and telling your ring to find a new bearer, because in your heart you have already abandoned your core mission."

"If it's that important to you, why don't you do it?"

"If I wanted to commit myself to saving Gotham, I would do so in a rational and pragmatic manner. I would take over the city by force majeure, recruit the handful of obstinately upstanding residents as aides, summarily execute the worst criminals, then ram through whatever other changes I thought necessary over the heads of any local objections. Then, and only then, would I do painting and decorating work, because the time spent to lives improved ratio just doesn't support it until then."

She glares at me.

"I don't believe that for a moment!" She points her right arm at me, forefinger extended accusatorially. "You're just a miserable emo who's forgotten how to be nice to people!"

Bullock writes something on his notepad.

"I'm trying to help you learn things the easy way before-" Bullock holds his notepad out in front of her. "-you…"

She focuses on it, arm still outstretched, then frowns.

"Of course it's one word, why would you think-?"

Bullock nods. "Okay."

He looks mildly satisfied as the orange beam hits him, then turns away to head back to his patrol car.

"Great! Now they're going to think I'm a supervillain because of you!"

"That says more about them than it does you. But I want to see what you'll do next."

"Keep helping people! But now I don't know if I should keep doing this, or-"

"Yes you do."

"-get some sort of licence-." She lowers her arm. "What do you mean?"

"People often limit themselves by what is socially acceptable, even if they think it's nonsense. You know what is right, and you've seen the joy you've already brought. At this point anything other than carrying on is an unworthy self-deception."

Her eyes narrow. "I don't think I like you."

"But do you think I'm wrong?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

5th July 2010
14:36 GMT -5

She fidgets a little.

"I hope you're wrong."

"Don't duck the question; this is important. It will inform how you conduct yourself going forward."

"I just really want to fix people's homes without it being complicated!"

"Simple enough. Work out which crime family owns the area and get their permission. It's unlikely that they'll turn down free home improvements, and they can square things with the Gotham authorities due to already controlling them."

"I don't want to work with criminals."

"From what I was overhearing, you're a criminal."

"I'm not-." She considers the point and then nods confidently, her ears flapping. "I don't want to work with other criminals."

"The Illustres of the Orange Lantern Corps once said; 'Decide what you value most, for in the pursuit of it you may be called upon to give up everything else'."

"Well... Then-. They're an emo-jerk too!"

Ah…

"Not… Untrue. But it's a helpful mindset to have, when you're in a role that can require split-second decision making with lives on the line. How long have you had that ring?"

"Not… Long. How long have you had yours?"

"Eight years. And I've seen worlds rebuild cities in the time it would take for you to calm all the ruffled feathers you'd need to here in order to do so much as change a sparkplug while conforming to local law."

"Ah, pardon me?" A man-. The local Bruce Wayne. My version lost the ability to maintain his mask around me years ago, but as far as this version knows I'm just another Lantern. Of all the people I didn't want to see… "I couldn't help but overhear your discussion, and I'd like to help."

I can maintain my mask around him, because I can transfer control of my facial muscles to my ring and this version hasn't learned to spot when I do that yet. From the strange look the bunny girl is giving me it looks like her ring has picked up on the increase in anti-joy in my aura.

A competency test, then. Does she know who he is, and does she know of his alter ego. Her eyes are glimmering, so I'm a little hopeful, but for aliens Earth's custom of masked crime fighting is often bewildering-.

"How?"

"My companies do a lot of construction work in Gotham. We have accredited training programs which would allow you to continue your urban improvement work without having to worry about accidentally breaking the law. Plus, you'll even get paid."

Another glimmer, which suddenly cuts out. She's going to have to watch that.

"Sir, are you attempting to bribe an officer of the Teal Lantern Corps?"

"What? No!" His body language says 'mildly affronted', but he isn't wearing a ward. His emotional resonances are totally wrong. "I'm just saying you do good work and I'd like to help you out."

"Would you?"

"Yes, I-."

"Because I just checked the phone records of the unions who complained about me. The first half did so after their offices received a phone call from you. And then they called their inspector friends. And now here you are, with a job offer."

His expression becomes stern. Not a full Batman face, but the sort of fraction of Batman that sometimes leaks through when he's very tired or frustrated.

"What are you implying?"

"Nothing. I'm stating facts. If the facts suggest something else, then it's a conclusion the facts naturally suggest." She turns to me. "I don't think I want to stay here anymore. Clearly, I need to have a think about how I'm going to do this. Actually, Orange Lantern, do you have twenty bucks I could use? There's a few supplies I need to pick up if I'm going to stay on planet long term, and I currently have no local currency."

"I… Do, but in the Orange Lantern Corps we say that if you're too stupid to work out how to make money with a power ring then you're too stupid to be trusted with one. I can give you a list of terminally ill rich people, if that helps?"

"No, I've got this."

"If you want, I can rank them by moral turpitude. Is that better? Some of them are actually quite nice."

"No, I don't need someone who's decided to make himself my personal shoulder devil telling me who I should save."

"Triage is a perfectly-."

"Teal Lantern out!"

She shoots upwards at speed, heading in the direction of… Oh, that's not a good choice. That asteroid is mostly silica and ice. The only metal that's there in any significant quantity is copper, and while the price of copper is… Reasonable at the moment, that's still not a very time-economical target.

"She seems nice. Let Jordan know he can contact me by ring, won't you?"

"Who's Jordan?"

"Good day."

I don't step out but rather transition upwards, reappearing in the ionosphere just in time to wave at the bunny girl as she flies past.

She gives me the finger.

Ring, monitor her to see if she has a personal lantern.

Compliance.

When Hinon told me that Krona had done something to the emotional spectrum in this parallel, this isn't what I expected. Extra colours? Everything I know about the spectrum tells me that isn't possible. Some mind states are built into the structure of the universe, and others just aren't. But if he managed to do this…

If it's possible to reengineer the universe to empower other mental states, we could make rings that worked with whatever a person's 'best' emotion was. I mean, if we can learn; if he just mucked up the Big Bang a little differently here and it can only happen at the alpha event then we're stuck. But it might still be worth my time to learn how it could have been done.

…

Eight years ago.

Down there somewhere Kon is starting to learn what being a person is like. M'gann's learning to be around people who aren't disgusted by the colour of her skin. Wallace… Isn't learning to be less of an arse just yet, but that's only a few months away.

I look up at the stars.

The Citadelians and the Psions still exist. The Reach is still a going concern. Alstair and O are still hamstrung by their unusual technological bases. The Thanagarians are still scheming… Probably. We might be close to Universe 16 here but I can't just assume that it's all the same.

It's not my responsibility. It's not what I'm here for.

But as an Orange Lantern… Yes. I think I can square dealing with Larfleeze for them with myself. I miss that old ring, anyway.

 

[Mr Zoat]

7th August 2012
20:20 GMT

"'Something given has no value'."

I frown, then exhale sharply as we're led towards the bridge.

"You have a power ring. Don't be lazy and watch the film version."

"The book version doesn't summarise the idea so well."

"It's not that complicated an idea. The way I value things has changed a lot since I got my ring, too. I only got into fighting because I realised how dangerous the universe is and wanted to be able to maximise my advantages. Which sounds rational, until you realise that I've put myself in more danger trying to learn how to do that."

"And if that was your real motivation, you should have stopped the moment you realised that was what was happening."

"If it stayed my real motivation, I should have stopped the moment I realised that was what was happening. But by then I had friends in that subculture. And I had-." I frown. "Did I ever talk to you about the Crime Bible?"

"No." Her eyes flash and she nods. "Greed. The fable of the First's entry into Har-Mammon."

"The other way of looking at it. In your former life you'd have been happy with the metaphorical cup of water. But now…"

"So what exactly is my Har-Mammon?"

"No idea. And that's the problem restated. The comparison just struck me as amusing. What are people telling you that you can't have?"

"Nothing. … Oh. That's the problem, isn't it?"

"Maybe." The bridge on this ship doesn't have doors, but our escort turns aside as we walk through the noise-cancelling field across the entry. "Maybe. Captain!"

"My lord Illustres!" The richly-dressed merchant smiles and nods. "How have you enjoyed the journey?"

"Pleasant enough." I shrug. "I'm not used to travelling by ship. I'm afraid that I have little to compare it to."

"I suppose that a power ring does have that utility. And you, my lady?"

Lantern Drusa smiles politely.

"It's the nicest cargo ship I've ever travelled upon. It's a shame the Illustres kept me too busy to get a proper tour."

"Perhaps on the way back. We're-."

A chime sounds, and the crew focus on their stations. We're back in real space. I look through the hull, trying to spot the rest of the fleet: the cargo barges and escort frigates. Yes, there they are, exactly where they should be. The form of faster than light travel our hosts use makes it a little tricky to keep in contact with other ships, though on the plus side it's a little faster at moving high mass objects than what the L.E.G.I.O.N. fleet uses.

"We're in normal space…" The captain looks around and gets a nod from the comms officer. "And so is everyone else."

"Good show. What's the protocol for requesting a pilot?"

"Usually, they contact us when we get a little closer. They're the ones who are more heavily occupied, after all. I assume that you want to make official contact with the government of Yuna?"

"Well… Let them know I'm here, anyway. It's not as if we're in a rush. What was it, four days if they've got a pilot already on station?"

"Pilots, my lord. One per ship."

Drusa frowns. "How do they make sure that no one overrides them?"

"A combination of interdiction fields and the enmity of every other ship in the system." The captain makes a gesture of dismissal. "We're required to submit the general design of our control systems ahead of time, and they use a form of memory implant that allows the pilots to be trained extremely quickly. But they know perfectly well that if any one ship wanted to circumvent their controls, it could do so. For a few moments, at least."

"Will there be a customs inspection?"

"They'll want to confirm that our stated cargo matches what's actually in our hold. There are very few goods absolutely prohibited in Yuna, but there are certain things that can't be traded on the surface of the planet. There's little point bringing refined metals onto a planet if the buyer is going to need to drag it back out of the gravity well. And they aren't keen on weapons or highly destructive substances threatening their population centres."

"Are slaves traded here?"

He looks slightly awkward for a moment.

"Technically, no. Employment contracts can be traded, though for the most part that's for high status individuals who are well compensated. Most of the worlds in this region of space have little interest in purchasing unskilled labourers."

"And in reality?"

"There's probably some. It's not a major industry though; that I can tell you for certain."

Not as if it would really be appropriate for me to try doing anything about it anyway. Not until we've finished our war with the Reach. But it's nice to have a reminder that I'll always have something to do somewhere. What was the Warhammer 40,000 quote? 'For those who seek perfection there is no rest this side of the grave'? Something like that.

"Why are you smiling?"

"I just had my fear of unemployment quashed." I can tell from the expression on Lantern Drusa's face that she doesn't understand. "My greatest desire is to effect positive change in the universe. If everything was perfect then I'd have nothing to do; I'd be in your position."

"What does your perfection look like?"

"I'm not exactly sure. I was exposed to a Black Mercy once, and that showed me-."

The comms officer signals the captain again, who makes a gesture of agreement. A moment later the captain's screen lights up with the face of a gyuanite, the local dominant sophont. A non-standard humanoid race, they have deep blue skin and an elongated head and body. This one has.. some sort of mouth and eye guards, though I suppose they could be either purely functional or purely decorative.

"Captain. Welcome back to Yuna."

"Thank you, system controller. I would like to make my approach as soon as possible."

"Quite understandable. I can dispatch a customs detail to you at once. Please have your full manifest up to date for their arrival."

"Of course."

The system controller presses some buttons off screen.

"I'm afraid that there won't be enough pilots for your entire fleet for half a local day, but I can dispatch enough for your own ship and one escort immediately. Would that be acceptable?"

"Certainly."

"Then I will arrange it at once. Are there any other matters which you wish to bring to my attention?"

"One.. other matter. I'm transporting a diplomat from Maltus."

"Maltus?"

The captain motions to me, and I step into range of his console's camera.

"Pleased to meet you. I'm the Illustres of the Orange Lantern Corps, and I would like to meet with a representative of your government at their earliest convenience."

The system controller's skin turns mildly green.

"I will refer that upwards at once. Excuse me."

The screen deactivates.