With This Ring (Young Justice SI) (Thread Fourteen)

[FuzzyZergling]

"…why?"

Click to shrink...

Missing capital.

 

[Mr Zoat]

Universe 191
13th May 1954
09:07 GMT

Mr. Blood tosses an orange in his right hand. "So much for isolationism. Or is that just for the peasants?"

I smile politely. "Those were actually grown in this country."

"Oh yeah?" He frowns in disbelief. "How?"

"Oranges thrive in hot places with lots of sunlight." I look out through the pavilion entrance into the overcast spring day. "And while Britain doesn't have much of either, we do have a surfeit of electrical power. And sunlamps. And for your information, my father was a school teacher."

"You're saying you grow your own tropical fruit."

I shrug. "Some things we don't grow. But for the first time in a long time, Great Britain is self-sufficient in terms of food. We've seen large areas of land being returned to agricultural use, and farming is increasing becoming a prestigious occupation because farmers don't risk being undercut by foreign imports."

He looks at me incredulously. "You reinstated the Corn Laws?"

"Not precisely. Most farms are owner-run, rather than being part of large estates. But there is a slight readjustment between-."

A man in a sergeant's uniform strides in, making directly towards me. "Mister Talwyn?"

"Sergeant?"

"It's here, sir."

"Oh, good. Has Mister von Spreti been informed?"

"On his way now, sir."

"Good show. Lead the way-. Ah, Mister Blood. You aren't obliged to come, but you may find this interesting."

"I may as well find out why you dragged…" He looks around at the assembled dignitaries. "Everyone out here."

We follow along behind the sergeant, heading for the loading area. "Oh, no, this is a little more personal." Ah, yes, here we go. Soldiers with latest generation Janson rifles stand on guard, and a corporal with a clipboard containing a goods receipt is standing next to a tarpaulin-covered wooden pallet. A moment later Mr. von Spreti joins us, looking at me expectantly.

I smile politely. "Thank you for joining us, Mister von Spreti." I walk over to the tarpaulin. "Both of you have expressed concern about Britain having fission bombs, so…" I bend down, grip the edge of the tarpaulin and pull it back. "Here you are."

Mr. von Spreti's eyes widen. His feet twitch, as if he's considering taking a step back. Or running. But at this range what would be the point?

Mr. Blood on the other hand takes a step closer to the two fission bombs. "Are these live?"

I nod. "The trigger's inert, but the fissionable material is still in there."

"I thought you didn't make super bombs."

"We don't. Other than the one which didn't reach its target during the war."

"So you just pulled these out of your hat?"

"No." Mr. von Spreti shakes his head. "These are ours."

I nod, pointing at each in turn. "London and Brighton. Now, London I understand, but what was the rationale behind Brighton?"

"It was most accessible. The planes had a minimal risk of interception but would still demonstrate the power of our weapon against one of your cities."

"Ah." I nod. "Well, as per the terms of our treaty, expelled ordnance was excluded from the list of things that we were obliged to return, but I'm happy to return these to the Kaiser." I wave the corporal forwards. "If you could please sigh here?"

He shakes his head. "I cannot sigh to say that I have accepted them until I have verified that they are indeed our superbombs."

I shrug. "I can open the case if you like?"

He stares at me quite carefully for a moment.

"I believe that we would need special equipment to do that safely, and in any case I lack the expertise to identify it with certainty."

"Wait a second." Mr. Blood frowns. "You sent a superbomb at them and they send two at you, and none of them actually exploded?"

I shake my head. "Ours exploded, it just didn't reach the target. That was one very sorry patch of Bavarian pasture."

"Hah! Hey, von Spreti, just sign to say you received it without checking. You can confirm what it actually is once it's back in France."

He signs reluctantly. "And how will we transport it to France?"

I smile. "Well, since you signed for it, that's your problem now. Detail, dismissed!"

He looks up in shock as the soldiers fall out. "Vas?"

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a demonstration to perform." I turn and head in the direction of the main stage. "Mister Blood?"

He follows me, glancing back briefly at his bewildered colleague. "This should be good."

"I think that you'll be satisfied."

"What have you got? Death rays?"

I smile, and reach into my jacket with my right hand. He actually looks nervous for a moment as I pull out a device the size of a cigar. "This little thing?" I point it at my left palm and press the activation switch, a small red dot appearing on my skin. "It's just focused light. It would take about a thousand years of constant application for it to burn me. It can blind someone if you shine it in their eyes, but all it's really good for is replacing a board pointer." I put it back into my jacket, not mentioning the fact that we're already switching over to compact discs for data storage. As far as I know, the United States hasn't progressed beyond mechanical computers. "Though I suppose I should warn you that you might see a few familiar faces."

"Why's that?"

"Your Office of Strategic Services was murdering its way through the Confederate intelligentsia after the war. But the thing is, a nation's intellectual elite are actually quite clever, and can spot patterns. Like all their colleagues suddenly forgetting how to use their brakes."

"And they came here."

I nod. "Some of them did. What was that about, anyway? I'd have thought that the intelligent thing would be cutting a deal."

He glowers. "The former Confederate States are none of your concern."

I shrug. "Just trying to be helpful. But your loss is our gain. And I suppose that if you end up buying anything from us then you'll get the benefit anyway."

"Budget finally getting tight? You've been spending money like it's going out of fashion ever since the war ended. You can't have much left after using your entire gold reserve to pay off the krauts."

"It's amazing how much precious metal there is in some asteroids." I reach the edge of the stage. A wooden structure set up outside of the facility we're using for the demonstrations, it's not particularly big. Just enough to support a band and the speaker system, it's more then enough for my opening remarks. "If you'd like to join the audience? I'll begin immediately."

And then I walk up the steps onto the stage.

 

[timeForced]

Tbh I like this America the more I hear about it. We've been paying for slavery for a quarter millennium and the interest has been killer.

 

[Chojin Patriarch]

Universe 191
13th May 1954
09:07 GMT

Mr. Blood tosses an orange in his right hand. "So much for isolationism. Or is that just for the peasants?"

I smile politely. "Those were actually grown in this country."

"Oh yeah?" He frowns in disbelief. "How?"

Click to shrink...

What, never heard of a greenhouse? All it takes is a good level of climate control and lighting to manage the task. Of course, I imagine the size and industrialisation needed to mass-grow stuff like this might be a bit trickier, but...

Spoiler: Commentary spoilered for length

"Oranges thrive in hot places with lots of sunlight." I look out through the pavilion entrance into the overcast spring day. "And while Britain doesn't have much of either, we do have a surfeit of electrical power. And sunlamps. And for your information, my father was a school teacher."

Click to shrink...

Probably still a 'peasant' job in his eyes, if he's that obnoxiously arrogant about it.

"You're saying you grow your own tropical fruit."

I shrug. "Some things we don't grow. But for the first time in a long time, Great Britain is self-sufficient in terms of food. We've seen large areas of land being returned to agricultural use, and farming is increasing becoming a prestigious occupation because farmers don't risk being undercut by foreign imports."

Click to shrink...

And the British Isles do have a lot of land, after all...

He looks at me incredulously. "You reinstated the Corn Laws?"

"Not precisely. Most farms are owner-run, rather than being part of large estates. But there is a slight readjustment between-."

Click to shrink...

Oooh, that's not a well-known thing outside of England. To sum up: restrictions on the import of 'cereal grains' in the early nineteenth century to help buoy a farming economy in difficulty thanks to cheap imported stuff. Repealed mid-century after a famine hit Ireland.

A man in a sergeant's uniform strides in, making directly towards me. "Mister Talwyn?"

"Sergeant?"

Click to shrink...

Heh, at least he has a legitimate name here. Wonder if he worked with someone to develop something close enough to his own name that he could use it without suffering the feedback issue.

"It's here, sir."

"Oh, good. Has Mister von Spreti been informed?"

"On his way now, sir."

Click to shrink...

Excellent. This should be rather entertaining.

"Good show. Lead the way-. Ah, Mister Blood. You aren't obliged to come, but you may find this interesting."

"I may as well find out why you dragged…" He looks around at the assembled dignitaries. "Everyone out here."

Click to shrink...

Oh, you will, you will...

We follow along behind the sergeant, heading for the loading area. "Oh, no, this is a little more personal." Ah, yes, here we go. Soldiers with latest generation Janson rifles stand on guard, and a corporal with a clipboard containing a goods receipt is standing next to a tarpaulin-covered wooden pallet. A moment later Mr. von Spreti joins us, looking at me expectantly.

Click to shrink...

Man, those are some nice-looking guns. They look almost pulp-sci-fi-ish...

I smile politely. "Thank you for joining us, Mister von Spreti." I walk over to the tarpaulin. "Both of you have expressed concern about Britain having fission bombs, so…" I bend down, grip the edge of the tarpaulin and pull it back. "Here you are."

Mr. von Spreti's eyes widen. His feet twitch, as if he's considering taking a step back. Or running. But at this range what would be the point?

Click to shrink...

And they'd hardly have them here if they weren't made safe.

Mr. Blood on the other hand takes a step closer to the two fission bombs. "Are these live?"

I nod. "The trigger's inert, but the fissionable material is still in there."

Click to shrink...

Since the bulk of the work in setting off the nuclear reaction is done by the triggering device.

"I thought you didn't make super bombs."

"We don't. Other than the one which didn't reach its target during the war."

Click to shrink...

I like the subtle message being implied there: "We caught these. Be glad we didn't throw them back at you."

"So you just pulled these out of your hat?"

"No." Mr. von Spreti shakes his head. "These are ours."

Click to shrink...

I would not be surprised if the German text on the bombs was still readable.

I nod, pointing at each in turn. "London and Brighton. Now, London I understand, but what was the rationale behind Brighton?"

"It was most accessible. The planes had a minimal risk of interception but would still demonstrate the power of our weapon against one of your cities."

Click to shrink...

...Much the same reason the US picked Hiroshima and Nagasaki, really. Easy to hit, big enough to carry the intended message.

"Ah." I nod. "Well, as per the terms of our treaty, expelled ordnance was excluded from the list of things that we were obliged to return, but I'm happy to return these to the Kaiser." I wave the corporal forwards. "If you could please sigh here?"

He shakes his head. "I cannot sign to say that I have accepted them until I have verified that they are indeed our superbombs."

Click to shrink...

Aw, no big German flag on them to declare their origin? How mundane.

I shrug. "I can open the case if you like?"

He stares at me quite carefully for a moment.

"I believe that we would need special equipment to do that safely, and in any case I lack the expertise to identify it with certainty."

Click to shrink...

To be fair, he's a diplomat, not a nuclear weapons expert.

"Wait a second." Mr. Blood frowns. "You sent a superbomb at them and they send two at you, and none of them actually exploded?"

I shake my head. "Ours exploded, it just didn't reach the target. That was one very sorry patch of Bavarian pasture."

Click to shrink...

Shame for anyone in the region, though. I'm sure it was a very pretty patch of Bavarian pasture.

"Hah! Hey, von Spreti, just sign to say you received it without checking. You can confirm what it actually is once it's back in France."

He signs reluctantly. "And how will we transport it to France?"

Click to shrink...

Confident, isn't he? Archer probably figures they're having a laugh.

I smile. "Well, since you signed for it, that's your problem now. Detail, dismissed!"

He looks up in shock as the soldiers fall out. "Vas?"

Click to shrink...

A bit surprising, given they are two large nuclear bombs. Then again, without the detonators...

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a demonstration to perform." I turn and head in the direction of the main stage. "Mister Blood?"

He follows me, glancing back briefly at his bewildered colleague. "This should be good."

Click to shrink...

I wonder if they have the same sort of science fiction as in our world? Buck Rogers, Flash Gordon, that sort of thing...

"I think that you'll be satisfied."

"What have you got? Death rays?"

Click to shrink...

Eh, inefficient except at battleship scales. And they probably have better options for that.

I smile, and reach into my jacket with my right hand. He actually looks nervous for a moment as I pull out a device the size of a cigar. "This little thing?" I point it at my left palm and press the activation switch, a small red dot appearing on my skin. "It's just focused light. It would take about a thousand years of constant application for it to burn me. It can blind someone if you shine it in their eyes, but all it's really good for is replacing a board pointer." I put it back into my jacket, not mentioning the fact that we're already switching over to compact discs for data storage. As far as I know, the United States hasn't progressed beyond mechanical computers. "Though I suppose I should warn you that you might see a few familiar faces."

Click to shrink...

Amusingly, a laser pointer is basically the same principle as the so-called 'death ray' Archer was thinking of. Intensified light, often at the end of the visible spectrum...

"Why's that?"

"Your Office of Strategic Services was murdering its way through the Confederate intelligentsia after the war. But the thing is, a nation's intellectual elite are actually quite clever, and can spot patterns. Like all their colleagues suddenly forgetting how to use their brakes."

Click to shrink...

Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence... Honestly, that seems a bit sloppy on the assassins' parts.

"And they came here."

I nod. "Some of them did. What was that about, anyway? I'd have thought that the intelligent thing would be cutting a deal."

Click to shrink...

Probably explains why America is languishing in the equivalent of the 'Forties.

He glowers. "The former Confederate States are none of your concern."

I shrug. "Just trying to be helpful. But your loss is our gain. And I suppose that if you end up buying anything from us then you'll get the benefit anyway."

Click to shrink...

Albeit at higher monetary cost. And not being able to reverse-engineer it as easily as if you'd had the boffins to do the work in the first place.

"Budget finally getting tight? You've been spending money like it's going out of fashion ever since the war ended. You can't have much left after using your entire gold reserve to pay off the krauts."

Click to shrink...

I wonder if he'll still have that superior attitude in a few minutes.

"It's amazing how much precious metal there is in some asteroids." I reach the edge of the stage. A wooden structure set up outside of the facility we're using for the demonstrations, it's not particularly big. Just enough to support a band and the speaker system, it's more then enough for my opening remarks. "If you'd like to join the audience? I'll begin immediately."

Click to shrink...

I doubt Archer is smart enough to realise just what that statement meant. Especially if British Military intelligence has been able to keep things under wraps.

And then I walk up the steps onto the stage.

Click to shrink...

It's Showtime...

Somehow, I am looking forwards to seeing Archer Blood having to pick his jaw up off the floor, no matter what he's about to see. He really seems like an asshole who has no business being a diplomat... The German fellow seems more pleasant, if a little over his head with whatever he's about to witness. Bring on... Whatever it is! Spaceships straight out of 'Dan Dare', I hope.

 

[Darko]

farming is increasing becoming

Click to shrink...

"increasingly"

 

[NightmareWarden]

He doesn't really get to work with women in this dimension, eh? Hmm, maybe the first astronauts will be women? Or some of the computers who worked on the space program in our timeline were with families who fled the US?

 

[BR549]

...Much the same reason the US picked Hiroshima and Nagasaki, really. Easy to hit, big enough to carry the intended message.

Click to shrink...

Interesting fact, Nagasaki was the secondary target for that mission. The intended target was Kokura. Delays in the mission meant smoke from the previous night's firebombing of Yahata had drifted over Kokura; after making three attempts on the target, Bockscar, low on fuel and with AA fire closing in, diverted to Nagasaki.