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

[Mr Zoat]

18th May 2284
15:44 GMT -6

Governor Rusk nods when he sees me. "I don't know shit. You?"

I shake my head as we follow the crowd into the main hall. The people around me are some of the most senior politicians and military officers in our alliance, and-.

I check to make sure that my people are maintaining vigilance.

**Yes, Chief Krono.**

Good. Because it would be very bad if anything happened to this room.

"High-altitude nuclear detonation is my best guess."

"Weel shyt. Any idea who?"

I didn't ask anyone in Britain if they still had Polaris or Trident, but I'd have thought that if they did they'd have fired it when the European countries fought each other. And I don't know if Trident's missiles have the fuel capacity for a high-altitude detonation.

"Most likely a pre-War facility. American, Chinese or Russian would be my guess, but that doesn't narrow it down much."

"Weren't us, I'll tell yah that fer nothin'. Weren't those Alamo kooks, neither. Tlaloc?"

"Contrary to his core programming. And I don't want to assume this was deliberate. There were times during the Cold War where the Russians nearly fired their arsenal because their launch detection system mistook a normal cloud or a flock of birds for an American nuclear launch. If some Emperor-class A.I. got its knickers in a twist…"

Rusk nods. "Or some fool broke inta some facility they had no business being inside and pressed the wrong button. I'll try an' keep a cool-"

"Chief Krono?"

"-head."

We look up as a N.C.R. Ranger corporal hustles up to us.

"Yes?"

"General wants you, sir."

"Ah-."

Rusk nods. "Oh, you get on, son. With alla this panicking and carrying-on, I reckon the bar's probably free."

"Right. See you when I see you. Lead on, Corporal."

"Sir."

We pick our way through the not-quite panicking crowd, confirming with one another that they're all equally ignorant. Douglas and his mother are getting a few odd looks; former Enclave and person who blew up the Enclave not being a natural pair in most people's minds. And one of my brother-in-laws is talking to a priestess from Heaven's Gate.

"…er teams in the Oregon, but they're mostly keeping tabs on the Washington Brotherhood."

Ranger General Mossman is standing in front of a world map which has been affixed to an easel. Mossman is in overall command of the N.C.R. Rangers, as well as effectively being in command of N.C.R. Intelligence. He's also the reason why Chief Hanlon got to retire honourably rather than being put in front of a firing squad, so I'm tentatively willing to assume that he's a good man as well. Grant's standing next to him, nodding twitchily and occasionally glancing around the room. One nice thing about Vegas is that House got all of his anti-missile systems up and running again, so we're in just about the safest place we could be if missiles are in the air.

Another ranger dashes in and writes a time on the map before heading out again, Mossman staring at it before turning to his boss.

"I think that about-." He catches sight of me. "Mister Krono."

"General. Governor. Do you know something?"

Mossman nods. "I've been having my people contact our outposts across California and record the time when their electronics stopped working. Not everyone's reported in yet, but as far as we can tell so far, the effect hit the north first. I don't suppose you've got eyes on the Immortal, have you?"

I shake my head. "I'm afraid not. I don't have that many operatives, and he hasn't been a priority."

Another nod. "It could have been a Russian missile fired over the pole, or something someone left up there for two hundred years. As far as we can tell, all the satellites in that area have either been destroyed or disabled."

Hayes sighs. "We don't even know for certain that there haven't been other attacks all across America. Can you do something about that?"

"Yes, but not quickly. I'll need to contact the choir in Area Fifty-One, and they'll need to reach out-."

"Do it. With the satellites down, we don't have anything better. And it's not like someone can just fly up and replaced the satellites' vacuum tubes, so I think we're going to have to accelerate-."

"No, we can."

Hayes frowns at me. "You told me your saucers weren't designed for space walks."

"They're not, but the Mothership can handle that, no prob-. Ah, assuming that they've got the trained personnel, but we can send someone up if they haven't."

That prompts an eyebrow-raise. "Where did you find trained astronauts?"

"Houston, hopefully. If they've got a few pre-War ghouls around, they should remember the skills required. If not, my people have telekinesis. It should make spacewalks a lot easier than trying to manage it with a thruster pack."

"Okay, that's a start. And I've got to get soldiers mobilised. Do you think your Canadian friends will help out?"

"They might, but you'd be better off talking to-" I turn and nod at the nun. "-our steam-loving friends."

Hayes nods. "Alright. You make your calls, I'll talk to her. Mossman, keep up the good work and holla if you learn anything new."

"Right." / "Mister-. Governor."

I could reach out while standing here, but it's easier if I'm somewhere quiet, if only because people won't try talking to me. This is a little further than a casual chat, so…

**[Picture the site]**

In my mind's eye I see the focus station, and the projective and receptive telepaths currently on duty. Several look around, and I can **[feel them looking back]**.

**Krono to Station.**

**We hear you, Chief.**

**Someone just used a weapon which destroys vacuum tubes. Contact our embedded agents and get reports on what's happening where they are, how far the effect has spread and if there have been any other attacks. Report back to me when ready.**

**At once, Chief.**

**And send a message to Albert, on the Mothership. Ask him to radio me in New Vegas as soon as possible.**

**That could take a while. I don't think he's in range.**

Can't blame a man for having fun in a spaceship.

**Whenever you can. Krono out.**

I withdraw my awareness, blinking as I refocus on my physical location. I'd best head to the market and purchase some warm clothing, because I expect that a trip to Washington State is in my future.

 

[Mr Zoat]

18th May 2284
15:59 GMT -6

"Ah, sir? Mister Krono?"

A… Member of the Chairmen has threaded his way through the milling crowd.

I turn away from the map and hold up my right hand. "Over here!"

He smiles awkwardly as he passes over a note. Looks… Maybe nineteen? The Chairmen had a change of leadership a couple of years ago after their former leader tried overthrowing Mr. House. Really, they were lucky that he decided to be chirurgical about removing 'Benny' rather than just killing the lot of them, but I suppose that would have been bad for business.

I open it-.

'Look up'.

Of course.

I walk out of the hall and over to the nearest Securitron. "Robert, is your laser communication array up and running yet?"

The police officer image on the screen flickers, and then is replaced by Mr. House's face icon. "No, I've been prioritising bringing Helios and the Hoover Dam up to full operational capacity. If you want to send a message, I have the most powerful radio transmitter in the Pacific Southwest."

"Alright, please point it directly upwards, set it to shortwave and send 'Krono ready'."

"And what wavelength am I transmitting on?"

"It doesn't matter, they'll pick it up anyway."

"… Very well. Have you repaired a satellite already?"

"No. There should be something on radar. Unless they've got the stealth system working, which is a possibility."

"Might I ask who I'm talking to?"

"Albert."

"I would appreciate it if you could-."

I raise my right hand in surrender. "I'm sorry. Six years ago the aliens who provided Area Fifty-One with so many examples of their technology tried abducting people from the area around Washington D.C.. The prisoners broke out, killed the crew and captured their Mothership."

"… I… Don't imagine that the aliens use vacuum tubes or transistors."

"No, which means that if they were near to Earth, then they should have a recording of what happened."

"Yes, that-. I have a response. I'll route it through this Securitron."

The screen flickers, and then… An artist's rendition of a space suited Vault Boy's head replaces the image of Mr. House.

"Krono, I've been wanting to talk to you for a while, now."

"Yes, I-."

"What's this about the Enclave setting up in Iowa?"

Ah… I didn't… Tell him specifically, but… "I think it's fairly self-explanatory. I needed to put them somewhere, and Iowa was uninhabited. Uninhabitable without a super Garden of Eden Creation Kit."

"You gave them-. What for?"

"Because they're no longer a threat, imprisoning them was wasteful and expensive and Iowa needed to be rebuilt by someone."

"They tried to poison the Capital and they murdered my father."

"Albert… You let Colonel Autumn go. If you-."

"Yeah, because I wanted him to die slowly! I wanted him to watch while we rebuilt Washington while his whole outfit fell apart so he could see what a useless moron he was, not because I wanted him to start over!"

"Ah. In my defence, you didn't tell anyone that."

"Jeez, and now he's just-. Great. Great."

"You can still work to rebuild Washington faster, though I'll warn you now that he's actually doing a pretty good job with Iowa."

"There anyone else living there?"

I… Don't know where he might be going with this. Though I'm a little nervous about the destination, because the primary weapon of the Mothership hits as hard as a large strategic nuclear warhead, and can fire once every five seconds.

"Yes. There was a cryogenic suspension facility with a few thousand people in it. We destroyed the A.I. that was vivisecting them to use their brains as computers and let them out."

"So the Enclave's their heroes."

"I'm… Not sure how much of their history they've taught them, but… Yes."

I hear him sigh. "Why couldn't they have acted like that in Washington?"

"I'm… Not entirely clear on that. If your father had been a member of the Enclave Autumn might have killed him for disloyalty, but otherwise it makes very little sense. And… I'm sorry if this is a sensitive topic, but why did your father refuse to help them? They were trying to make Project Purity work, that's what he wanted..?"

"I'd ask, but he's dead."

I give him a moment to calm down.

"What did you want to talk to me about?"

"Someone used a large electromagnetic pulse weapon about a hour ago. I was hoping that your ship might have detected something."

"I mean, it might, but I don't speak zetan."

"You don't speak-? How are you doing anything?"

"Guesswork. Pattern recognition. Rote learning. The layout's pretty logical. Got a couple of Brotherhood scribes up here writing a user manual… We can manoeuvre, work the transporter, fire the gun, that stuff's all fine, but if you want to look at sensor logs…"

"Would it be alright if I sent a few mechempaths up to speed things along? We're all used to zetan systems and psychic powers would-."

"Oh God yes."

"Right, I'll get that sorted."

"Okay. And once they're onboard and we've got the sensors working, we can go take a look… Where'd the attack come from?"

"We don't really know. The obvious possibilities are one of the Chinese successor states and the Washington Brotherhood. So if you could head north once you've picked up our specialists..?"

"Yeah, we can do that. Ah. Have they got any anti-spaceship weapons? Because this thing's got shields, but I don't think it's got any point defences, so we're pretty much just sitting here with our asses hanging out."

"As long as you stay far enough away from the surface it shouldn't be a problem. Just make sure that the officer of the watch knows to move the ship away from the planet if there's any sort of launch. And I can send our psykers up in a saucer if you like, and they can use it as an interceptor."

"I was more worried about things like giant surface-mounted ray guns."

"I have no intelligence on giant ray guns, but I can't say I've got great sources in Washington State or China. That's not a technology I'm… Aware of anyone developing. Energy weapons above a certain size have heat dissipation issues, and missiles and bombs were usually more efficient."

"I'll turn our shields up all the way, just in case."

 

[Mr Zoat]

14th September 2013
14:21 GMT

Queen Hyathis closes her eyes and tilts her head back, extruding additional leaves from her back as the local sun shines down on her. The lizarkon representatives are clearly a little uncomfortable about the situation, but that's hardly surprising; they may have thrown in with her to get out from under the thanagarians-. The Imperial thanagarians, but they don't know her and have no real connection to her beyond 'fuck those guys'.

The fact that the Antares thanagarians are being polite and friendly appears to be throwing them off a little as well. But, they don't seem to be unhappy with whatever negotiations just finished, and that's happier than they were before.

"Do you approve, Orange Lantern? I doubt that the High Mor ever spoke to a lizarkon."

"I don't doubt that you're closer to what I'd want in a ruler for this region of space than he is. I'm just not prepared to inflict the quantity of death that would be required to get you that office."

"Did you know that I've never been at peace before?"

"No. I thought that you were… A sort of specialised over-consciousness which emerged from Alstair's plant life."

"I am, sort of. But I emerged into full awareness after my predecessor was killed during the opening stage of the war. Only one of us at a time…"

"We have the same system on Earth. The Green gets only one champion at a time."

"Yes, but your champion doesn't rule your world. I-." She looks down at the lizarkon servant kneeling next to her, carrying a drinks tray. "Stand up, woman!" The lizarkon cautiously raises her eyes, clearly not quite believing what she's been told. "We don't do that on Alstair. I know that my own people are loyal to me, and from one of your kind it just feels disingenuous."

The lizarkon hesitantly stands, and Hyathis takes a glass of… Water, from the tray.

Hyathis nods to her. "Thank you." She extrudes roots from her fingertips and begins drinking. "So, if you're not here to conduct a review, what is it that you want?"

"It's only been a few days. I'm glad that you made a prompt start, but I wouldn't learn much by checking up on things now."

"Mm, true."

"But relating to that, are you having any non-military problems that I can help you with?"

"No, everything's well in hand. This is an eventuality I've planned and prepared for. Actually, I was hoping to get a few more planets, but then you appeared and I felt that I was pushing my luck."

"Yes. I meant… Thanagar mostly recruited male lizarkons for their auxiliaries."

"They also employ females in supporting roles, and anyway it's not a large problem. Unlike your species, the lizarkons don't have much in the way of sexual desire outside of mating season. We have enough to maintain the population, even if a proportion of the males will have to wear nose plugs every so often."

"Thanagar doesn't keep track of populations in their undercities. Getting a few thousand females out-."

She frowns at me. "Are you trying to break your own treaty, or is this some sort of test?"

"You're going to spend decades solidifying your grip on your new acquisitions. I think I can mostly trust you to do that in a non-evil way."

"Thank you."

"But -assuming that Thanagar trusts me at my word- they've now got extra ships to play with and a political need to reassert their dominance. So I'm putting together a defensive alliance-"

"Which I can't join-"

"-which-."

"-because of the antagonism clause in the treaty. Though that does lend credence to your claim that you've been making things up as you go."

"I assure you, that claim was entirely true."

"Then what do you want me to do?"

"You aren't banned from gathering intelligence and sharing it, just from active sabotage. You aren't banned from trading with Thanagar's enemies, even at generous terms. And you don't have to continue to supply them with Nth metal."

"I was doing that in an effort to reduce tensions in the long term."

"How long is long?"

"Fifty years or so. Two changes of High Mor. Perhaps three. They'll still consider me their enemy, but they'll have larger concerns." She frowns. "How long does your species live?"

"Normal male humans can live about a hundred and fifteen years in ideal conditions, but eighty to ninety years is more normal. And then you've got Vandal Savage, who is about fifty thousand years old, so there's nothing special about our current lifespan, it's just a wear and tear thing." I clench my left fist and make myself glow orange. "If I can't enforce the treaty, it's not going to be because I got too old."

"I assume that this anti-Thanagarian alliance don't use plants, do they?"

"I'm afraid that very few species do, though I should point out that I've only spoken to one of the species I hope will be a major participant."

"How many to go?"

"Two, and a number of minor worlds. Green Lantern Guarn is making a start on those, but there are a lot of them."

"Nnnnnmmm." She considers for a moment. "Selling raw materials might be awkward, at the moment. We have a great deal of building to do as we transition to a peacetime economy and build infrastructure on my new acquisitions."

"You've got three worlds to disarm, and they have industrial capacity that's going begging. It doesn't even have to be a financial exchange. You can exchange raw materials for specialist teachers and engineers that you don't have."

"That's true. Alright, tell them to send trade envoys to Alstair, and I'll discuss specifics with them. Anything else? I'm sure you're busy."

"How have negotiations gone with Vulcan?"

"Quite well, we're getting married."

"Huh?"

She smiles, and… Honestly looks a little self-conscious. "I couldn't marry one of my own subjects, could I? They're basically part of me."

"Right..?"

"And I know that by human standards he's not much to look at, but to my spiritual senses he stands out as a tower of hard work, discipline and strength. I'm a little like the lizarkons in that regard; I didn't really have an interest until… Mm."

"Um. Good for you?"

"Do you think you could bring some of his relatives to Alstair for the ceremony?"

"It's… Not impossible. I'll-. I'll ask around. Um. Okay. Thank you for your time, but I've got people to see…"

"Of course. Be off with you. Let me know how it goes."

Of all the things I wasn't expecting today…

 

[Mr Zoat]

18th May 2284
18:02 GMT -6

Things have grown… Calmer.

Albert has -with the assistance of my mechempaths- found a way to allow satellite signals to be relayed via the Mothership's communications array. Diana was actually repositioning satellites from outside of the affected area to restore communications, so they're back in touch, and a team from Dallas is going to head south to see if Houston has anyone with astronaut training. Most people have gradually drifted back either to the day's scheduled events, or to the various entertainments Robert's people have been laying on.

Mostly to Marjorie's benefit, but given that she was the only leader out of the three families who didn't try and stab House in the back, I think she's due some sort of karmic reward.

"…quickly, but with the drawdown from Arizona we can reposition veteran divisions to Redding State if we have to."

With communication to Redding restored, Hayes has been speaking to its mayor and senators, both to check that there hasn't been any kind of follow-up attack and to reassure them that he's on the job.

"Because-." … "Because that looks like we're taking an aggressive posture, and the absolute last thing we want right now is a fight with Heaven's Gate." … "Okay, I can give priority to the First and Second Redding divisions and have them shifted north as soon as possible, but the important thing is to avoid panic when there's no evidence that this was even aimed at us."

He makes eye contact with me, and pantomime's an expression of exasperation.

"I don't know that yet, because-." ... "No, I won't be flying to-." … "No, not Shady Sands either. The-." … "Would you let me finish? Thank you. Because the communications suite is far better here than what you've got in Redding or that I've got in Shady Sands, and all of our allies are here, so if this is something big then we can agree a common position without having to play Waylaid Courier for two weeks first."

Governor Rusk elbows me. "Don't have none of that in Texas. Mayors feel if'n they gotta ask me for help they've fallen down on the job. Voters feel that way, too."

I nod. "Which is a good attitude for dealing with raider gangs, but less so for robot armies."

He shrugs. "I never said they was smart, just ornery."

Balm-Upon-Wounds frowns. "In… Utah, we have to rely on runners to relay news. I would not know that Eastport had suffered a calamity for many weeks."

"That so?"

"We have put the survivors of the Eighties to work as… Penal labour, in making roads so that drivers can relay news of great importance instead. But few roads in Utah survived the Great War."

I'm proud that he remembered to say 'penal labour'. Honestly… If we'd dealt with the Eighties earlier, we might have been able to take some of their war bands into service, but as things stood they were too committed into their identity as road warriors. And exile isn't an option, because they were exiled from California to Utah in the first place and if anything that made them worse. So alone of all of Utah's tribes the Eighties will be undone, broken up and never allowed to resurrect in any form. Once they're sufficiently beaten down, some might be allowed to join new communities, but most of them are going to die in chains.

And they earned that treatment. I checked.

"So get in contact with me if anything else strange happens." Hayes nods. "Alright. I'll speak to you again tomorrow."

He puts the phone down and sighs.

"Alright, anything-?"

The main screen flickers on, the interior of the Mothership's bridge appearing… Rotated forty degrees, with Albert barely visible in the corner.

"We getting through?"

I raise my right hand to my mouth. "You're out of focus."

"I dunno how to aim-."

There's a flicker, and we're now looking at the backs of their heads.

Rusk smiles. "Teethin' troubles?"

I nod. "Zetan tech support is horrible. I'd write a complaint letter, but we never got the address of their head office."

Another flicker, and Albert is front and centre and the right way up.

"How about now?"

I nod. "Reading you loud and clear, Captain. Is everything up and running?"

"Not yet, but we've got what you need. Turns out that the Mothership's central computer keeps records of basically everything."

"And..? Do you know how to replay and transmit it?"

"Yeah, we're going through the records now to find what you want. Hey, you mind if these guys stay up here when we're done? They've been here a couple of hours and we've got more control than we've ever had."

"If you don't mind spending some time repairing the satellites the E.M.P. wrecked."

"Eh, sure, we'll need practice with manoeuvring anyway." He turns away from the camera. "You guys ready? Alright-."

The screen flickers, and... That's the Earth, shape of the-.

Hayes' eyes widen. "Alaska?"

A circle surrounded by alien characters appears, the screen zooming in-.

Rusk sags. "Ah, Hell."

Balm frowns. "What is it?"

"American strategic missile. Pre-War. Someone put it back together, and y'all won't need three guesses to work out who."

Hayes frowns. "There were strategic missiles in Alaska?"

"Sure. Short range things they shipped back from Europe after N.A.T.O. collapsed. Moved 'em up there after they chased out the Chinese. Don't know exactly who rigged 'em to go straight up though, that takes training."

I nod. "The Immortal is a Paladin."

Rusk rolls his eyes. "The 'Immortal' is a Midwest Brotherhood deserter. Now, they lost all kinds a' things when they shattered after they fought the Calculator, but there weren't enough people missing t' make a whole new Chapter. Paladins, knights, scribes… A handful at most. And there's not many scribes who could refit a strategic miss'l."

I sigh. "So it looks like we're fighting the Washington Brotherhood sooner than I wanted. I'll head up there and get the lay of the land. The Mothership will allow me to stay in contact."

Hayes nods. "I'll get a hold of our friends in San Francisco, see what they know. And I guess Redding will be getting the reinforcements they wanted. I'll need to talk to Heaven's Gate, too."

Rusk sighs. "I'll talk to High Elder Törni. Can't imagine the Circle of Steel hasn't got a few people poking around. A Chapter going rogue is an insult to us all, especially if they're using strategic weapons. That there's exactly what Roger Maxson set us up to stop, God damn it!" He shakes his head. "He's gotta be filling his ranks out with local raiders. It's the only thing that makes a lick of sense."

"Good, that's a plan, then." I turn and head for the door. "I'll report my initial findings in two days."

 

[Mr Zoat]

15th September 2013
08:01 GMT

One more major and a few dozen minor worlds showing an interest in a cooperation agreement. The Autocrat of Margave even agreed to hold off on active measures while Hyathis tries to subvert the slave populations instead, which I thought was generous. And now I'm looking at the territory of the third major non-thanagarian regional power.

Sthuounoo.

"Lantern Guarn, I don't have any files on Sthuounoo. Is that the name of the species, or their homeworld?"

"I don't know."

I look at him and raise my left eyebrow.

"They don't like having anything to do with the Green Lantern Corps either. And while the Guardians grant us unlimited authority in our Sectors, most Green Lanterns in this Sector choose to leave them alone. They only threaten people when their territory is invaded."

"So how do you know their government isn't evil and their world isn't a hellhole?"

"Three hundred years ago an exploration vessel entered their space unknowingly and then suffered a drive malfunction. Their security fleet arrived at the same time as my partner's predecessor. There was a… Terse negotiation, and she was permitted to briefly visit their homeworld."

"Three hundred years is a long time. Can you get me an audience?"

"There is no mechanism for gaining an audience. They might be slower to shoot you if I am with you, but it is difficult to know."

"What do they look like?"

He projects a construct… Huh. Spade-shaped face, with eyes and mouth on the cutting edge. Four foot-fins and manipulator tentacles, so I'm going to assume that they were aquatic until relatively recently in their evolutionary history… Okay, the lower tentacles specialised for movement while the upper ones became 'hands'…

"No gills?"

"No, they're amphibious."

Ah, I saw the head and thought 'shark'.

"Any idea why they're isolationist?"

"No."

Aquatic species are usually good at 3 dimensional navigation-. Or I suppose that should be 4 dimensional navigation, as they have to take into account where everything is going to be in time as well. And being amphibious probably means that they don't need to keep the interiors of their ships submerged, which would dramatically cut down on the weight.

"Is it how we look?"

"Is that a joke?"

"No? It's pretty natural to be afraid of species who look like things who ate your ancestors, and our body shapes are fairly standard pattern humanoid. Theirs aren't."

"My ancestors were mostly eaten by other insectoids."

"Mine sometimes has a bit of a thing about insects, but that's mostly because of the venom."

"I have venom."

"Yes, but I'm not very likely to put a boot on with you inside it. Alright, let's head in."

We warp inwards, not particularly fast because we want them to see us coming and intercept us before we get somewhere they consider sensitive. Supposedly, their doctrine revolves around the spaceship equivalent of self-propelled guns. Small ships based around one large energy weapon, capable of damaging ships far larger than themselves. At the cost of not being efficient against ships in their own class. At least that's what the Thanagarian Empire fought when they tried intruding in this region; they weren't all that good at combating their attack craft but they were very good at hunting base ships.

Or it could be that they just never bothered to send point defence ships after base ships. That would-.

Something presses against my warp field as something tried to interdict me-. Ah, us. I lose Lantern Guarn at once, and drop back into normal space myself a moment later to avoid getting separated. Turn around and transition back towards that faint green glow.

"They are here."

"Good-" A… Frankly excessive flotilla of ships emerge into normal space about 3 A.U. away. "-show." Looks like their primary gun philosophy carries on to their battleships, but without the sort of sensors that allowed the Traitor's fleet to expand their engagement window. Instead, it looks like they're relying on armour and prow-focused shield emitters to let them survive closing the range. Yes, the battleship would probably two-shot a Thanagarian Command Carrier, if it could catch up with it and stay on target, which I'm dubious about.

Our rings twinkle. "Identify."

"I am the Illustres of the Orange Lantern Corps."

"Green Lantern Guarn, Sector Two Six Eight Two."

"Purpose of visit."

"Counter-Thanagar coordination."

"Sthuounoo disdain coordination with you."

"Not with me. With everyone currently being threatened by the Thanagarian Empire."

"What has happened?"

"Enduring peace with Alstair, which will release-."

"Yes."

Right, an admiral would be fully briefed on threats and on how they could evolve. I float there for a moment, waiting for some indication of-.

"Explain form of coordination."

"In the event of an attack against a party, other parties would attack Thanagarian Empire assets. The idea would be to prevent the Empire overwhelming any one target. Weaker worlds would provide material support, while-."

"Sthuounoo borders inviolate."

"Well, sure, but that will limit the amount of support the others can give you."

"Sthuounoo will not occupy Thanagarian Empire worlds."

"Could you strike governmental and military targets?"

"Yes."

"Then depending on how things go, one of the other parties could occupy them, or you could just destroy military assets and move on."

"Sthuounoo suspect that this alliance will go to war with Thanagarian Empire."

"The primary intent is to prevent war by making the Thanagarian Empire aware that its usual methods won't work. The alliance will be open about its existence once-."

"Open?"

"Its existence will be open. Your territory can remain as closed as you wish."

There's a moment of silence, and then the ships slowly wheel in space.

"Follow. Decision made on homeworld."

 

[Mr Zoat]

19th May 2284
19:02 GMT -7

'Civilised' is a fairly… Nebulous concept.

Was pre-War America civilised? Yes, probably. They had a disease epidemic and food shortages, but those were actually in the process of being dealt with. They were extremely vindictive against American citizens of Chinese descent, but… Historically, that has been pretty normal in most human civilisations. Britain and America both practiced internment during the Second World War, and most other nations did worse.

Is the N.C.R. civilised? They have a written constitution… But Britain didn't and still doesn't. They have the rule of law… And a President who personally… Um, 'extrajudicially killed' a lot of the N.C.R's corrupting influences after inviting them to a meeting in Shady Sands, locking the door and 'narrowly surviving an attack by Legion Frumentarii who took the life of so many prominent Californians before escaping'. Hayes has started a national public education program, but it really only extends to the major cities and is based on the patriotism-heavy pre-War syllabus. And even after his 'pruning spree' the judicial system is slanted in favour of major ranching interests and against small holders. But, there is a system.

Is Manitoba? It's less sophisticated and far less internally unified. National programs are a pipedream. But there is a structure, and there is a legal system with both regular and constitutional law, and a shared culture. It's a civilisation from the nineteenth century, or possibly earlier. Not something I've ever really lived in.

But on the way here I've flown over… I don't think that was civilised. The descendants of communist resistance movements from two hundred years ago, still couping each other and making a mess of things. Some sort of power armour-focused tribe ruling over a loose alliance of other tribes. No shared culture, and no organised social structure that I could see beyond doing whatever the local strongman commands. I could be missing something, and I hope I am, but I've seen that sort of thing before. A little way to the south -and north of my father-in-law's territory- the heretical Christians of Heaven's Gate are purging the survivors of their war with the other groups of heretical Christians. I'd say that they are civilised. Some of Christianity's best wars have been against other Christians.

And across the rocky mountains…

The Brotherhood of Steel's problem child.

The Washington Brotherhood is… An oddity. They're using advanced technical armour, a power armour variant that's the signature of the Midwest Brotherhood. That almost certainly means that their founders come from there. But the leader's a ghoul. Alright, he's never seen in public without his armour on, but I've heard recordings of his speech and he's got the classical ghoul rasp.

Now, the Midwest Brotherhood does accept ghouls, but they're... Auxiliaries. People without significant Brotherhood ancestry who they allowed to join because of their critical manpower shortage. None have achieved high rank. And the Midwest Brotherhood admit that between the Calculator, furry deathclaws and everyone else they've been fighting, their record-keeping can't be relied upon. One of their veterans might have ghoulified and gone AWOL, and taken a squad or two with him. But… It's a long way from Illinois to Seattle. They don't have any airships or air transports. So someone would have to walk two-thirds of the way across the United States, which, yes, that's far less distance than the Capital Brotherhood walked, but… Why?

The only alternative would be… Sailing up through the Great Lakes? Sailing to the east coast, sailing south and crossing Central America somewhere before sailing north? I'd like to find out, but it's not the highest priority.

What is the highest priority is their brutal enslavement of the neighbouring tribes, continued military expansion and human experimentation. The last is… More of a rumour. Allegedly, not every Brotherhood member who was part of their expedition was alright with what their Elder was planning, and got together with some of the local tribals to fight them. They lost, but some of the survivors made their way south, which is how many months ago I first became aware of the problem.

So, I need to find out what they're doing as far as the experiments are concerned. F.E.V.? Cybernetics? Psionics? Ghoul-transformation? We genuinely don't have good information on that. Or what their normal recruitment practices are like, or how they maintain control, or what the full extent of their territory is.

I need to find out if they're just crazy monsters, or if there's some reason why they're behaving the way that they are. Are they being brutal in the service of a higher good, or just for the Hell of it?

At least Seattle looks like it's been cleaned up.

It sounds ridiculous, really. You'd think that in the two hundred years since the war everywhere would have to have been cleaned up, right? Roads should have been cleared a few years after the end of the war because pre-War roads are still the best way to travel and putting a car in neutral and pushing it out of the way should be simple. Or scrapping it for parts or raw material and the nuclear fuel in its reactor. But no. There are actually a lot of places where the cars and the corpses in them are still where they crashed.

Seattle doesn't have that problem. The shorter buildings have been repaired or replaced, and a couple of the taller buildings have scaffolding around their exterior. We just don't have the expertise or technology for skyscrapers in most places these days. There are a couple of air fields around the city, though they appear to mostly host Douglas C-47 Skytrains rather than fighters or attack planes. Transports for their power armour units, to suppress rebellions? Logistics?

I watch as a group in… An approximation of Brotherhood knight uniform complete loading one and back off, the plane taxiing up the runway a moment later. Security around the airport is provided by three paladins in black-painted armour, the winged sword of the Washington Brotherhood sloppily painted in red on their shoulders. The knights… Several are ghouls, so at least the Elder isn't a hypocrite. Can't say that any of them look happy, but they're doing manual labour for a man who calls himself 'The Immortal', so that doesn't necessarily tell me anything.

So: what next? I could go for a walk around Seattle, spend some time here listening to their thoughts… Honestly, Port Maw to the south of here might be better for mixing with people, but... The experiments. They're not going to do something like that somewhere where they don't have complete control. Seattle proper, then.

I accelerate the ship, aiming for… I could go for an intact-looking roof with no access. Dropping down and arresting my own momentum is easy, as is running up a sheer wall. But if the building collapsed, the saucer would fall down and be seriously damaged, and that's months of time to repair or replace and I'd have to walk back to friendly territory. No, somewhere at ground level, somewhere where there's a minimal chance of someone walking into it and calling in the scribes. Or just blowing it up.

Let's see… The beach? Few visitors at this time of year, but I don't know where the local fishermen like to beach their ships. Garage? Not a lot of people driving cars up here, but it's a city. It'll be multi-storey car parks, and those usually get repurposed. In fact, there's one…

Ah. Slave storage. At least they're well-ventilated-.

Wait, are those super mutants? Great, now I've got to talk to Colonel Shaw and find out what the heck his people are doing up here-.

They're guards. They look… Well organised, with professionally made super mutant scale weapons, shields and electrified clubs because they're keeping slaves in order, not slaughtering them. Definitely got to talk to Shaw about this. I thought that all his intelligent subordinates were either confirmed dead or still working for him. If we missed someone… They're going to want their home back, which is awkward for us as the N.C.R. annexed it. I mean, we could try selling them on the advantages of N.C.R. citizenship, but they'd be part of Arroyo State, and… Who founded that place again?

Okay, the interior's no good and they're patrolling the roof. But there are small… Towers? Sticking up out of the roof, and apart from one that has an anti-aircraft gun stuck onto it the rest are clear.

I close my eyes [and reach out with my mind, feeling the structure]. Yes, that's strong enough. Bring the saucer around and… Land.

The zetan power system can easily handle leaving the stealth system on while I walk around, so I can leave the engine on. Metaphorically. Leaving the anti-gravity system on is a good way to have it drift off in the wind. So, pop the canopy, project my thoughts outwards to make myself seem uninteresting, and jump down.

Two super mutants nearby turn and look at me, but that's only because there's nothing else going on. I raise my right hand in greeting, and while they snarl back it feels perfunctory.

"Hey, ah… I never asked." They don't look happy, but there's no spike of aggression to signal an intent to attack. "Where are you lads from, anyway?"

"Pffff! Stupid human. Super mutants come from same place as metal warriors!" He gestures widely with his club-bearing right hand. "Now go away!"

Super mutants from the mid-west? Attis's group, then? There shouldn't be any F.E.V. sources around there. I skedaddle down the closest ramp, waving at another super mutant patrol-.

"Are you here for new experiment slaves?"

A larger, paler and considerably more intelligent sounded super mutant focuses on me more than the others did. Well, that's what I'm here to find out about.

I nod. "They're getting through them fast."

"The Immortal commands, we obey. The dark scribes want tough slaves. I will show you the tough slaves."

 

[Mr Zoat]

15th September 2013
09:46 GMT

Honestly, this sort of delay is more like what I was expecting from interstellar diplomacy. I feel that I really shouldn't be able to show up on a planet and immediately get an audience with whoever's running the place. Or… Maybe out in space things in my weight class are more common than I think? Or perhaps interstellar diplomacy is more about personal relationships than interlocking diplomatic systems, and stellar nations have adjusted by making sure that they can clear the boss's schedule at a moment's notice if someone sufficiently powerful swings by?

The planet's structure is… Interesting. It doesn't really have either oceans or continents. It's all small land masses and small lakes, decorated with a generous sprinkling of volcanoes. Plant life struggles on the land, so land-based life is pretty small and simple. Thermals and unobstructed air has led to ideal flying conditions, but there doesn't seem to be a bird analogue. Rather, something like a flying squirrel has taken their place as the world's most capable flier. The planet has two moons, not quite as large as Luna but still larger than the moons most small rocky worlds have.

"Huh."

"Have you discovered something?"

"Yes. I know why they're xenophobic."

"Are there predatory humanoids as you proposed?"

"No, that wasn't it. Basically, the conditions in the pools they evolved in vary a lot depending on what volcano has farted into the water recently. The ones who abandoned pool when a strange plant started growing -because there was suddenly sulphur in the water- survived to breed more than the ones who were relaxed about it."

"I will avoid looking like I require sulphur."

"Thing is, I'm not sure whether assuming their shape would help or not. I can't quite tell if physically matching them would be alright or if the fact that I don't understand their lexicon or culture would make things worse."

"You can change your shape? You seem… Solid."

"Oh, it's not an innate ability. But power rings can fabricate things, and that includes body parts."

"That was not mentioned during my training. And I have never heard another Green Lantern mentioned it."

"Well, no. Green Lanterns need to picture exactly what they're doing in their heads. You'd need to be a professional bioengineer in order to make use of the feature. But Orange Lanterns don't have that difficulty." I think for a moment. "Maybe not."

"So how does what you've learned help us?"

"They don't hate or fear other species on an intellectual level. It's all about sight. They can trade, as long as they don't have to interact directly. And they should be willing to-."

"Lanterns. Sthuounoo will see you now."

"Okay. Whereabouts-?"

One of the destroyers rotates, aiming its main gun towards the planet and-. Firing-.

What?

Firing a weak but unusually coherent beam of plasma towards a point on the surface. I plot course and transition, appearing… In the lee of a becalmed volcano, next to a pool filled with some sort of… Red coral-like substance?

"This is the one place sthuounoo can tolerate your kind."

A member of their species… Whatever they're called, awkwardly comes closer. There are several aerial vehicles around us, and the people inside are clearly wearing sophisticated personal armour. The one approaching me on the other hand is wearing something that looks suspiciously like a tracksuit.

Lantern Guarn drops down next to me, while I nod politely.

"Thank you for agreeing to see me. I assume that this is acceptable because the water here is polluted anyway."

"Not polluted. Just wrong for sthuounoo. Few worlds suit us. But we do not transform this place, though we could."

"I'm sure that your admiral has relayed my request."

"Yeees. Sthuounoo has heard. Sthuounoo agree. But have concerns."

"Alright. Tell me what they are, and I'll do my best to settle them."

"Coordination must be conducted using sthuounoo communication protocols. Material transfers must be conducted using sthuounoo standard container units and using sthuounoo weights and measures."

"Alright."

"Communications should be sound-only. If they enter our space, they should give warning and remain far enough away from our ships that sthuounoo cannot perform detailed scans."

"Let us know how far that is, and I'm sure that will be fine."

"Contact must be minimised. Muuust be minimised."

"Understood."

"We will not strike far from our territory. But we will attack Thanagar to support… Allies."

"That's what we were hoping for."

"These are sthuounoo conditions."

I nod. "The weaker species. They can supply raw materials or basic soldiers. As I understand it, you don't want alien troops in your territory. So what do you want in return?"

"If war happens and we win. Sthuounoo want empty worlds with water. Long coasts. Suitable for sthuounoo."

I perform a quick manual review of the worlds closest to sthuounoo space. Yeah, there are a couple that are marked for future colonisation that Thanagar hasn't prioritised due to having better places to settle first. Transferring ownership won't even involve moving that many people. Not… Great for amphibians, but certainly viable.

"That shouldn't be a problem, but what about before that? What can they provide you with to help you?"

"Rare earth minerals. No manufactured materials. To be left on worlds near border."

My ring chimes as I receive details on their standard shipping systems.

"That's fine. Do you want to take part in further negotiations, or technology trading with the alliance?"

"No. Sthuounoo are self-sufficient."

"How about information? Scientific knowledge?"

"No. Sthuounoo want them to avoid telling us."

Why would-?

Ooooh.

"Because that would… Make the idea an alien thing. Which would make it hard for you to deal with."

"Yes."

"You know, I know some telepaths. And some bio-engineers. If you wanted help overcoming-."

"No. Sthuounoo have said all there is to say. Leave."

I nod. "Okay, well, thank you for speaking with me. I'll get those protocols for you-."

The sthuounoo leaps into the pool and-.

And… Melts.

Ah.

 

[Mr Zoat]

19th May 2284
19:20 GMT -7

"Remember! They run, you press EXPLODE button!" The super mutant gaoler grins broadly, and it's nice to see that the weird leather mouth guard some super mutants wear never made it as far as Seattle. "BOOOOOOM!"

I nod as the selected slaves cringe. "Thank you-." My eyes dip to his polished name badge. "Dennis."

"Hah! Stupid smooth skin, I am not Dennis!" He points to the badge with his thumb. "I took this from Dennis the Dead Man! Smooth skins keep thinking it's my name!"

"You… Sure showed me." I point to the exit. "May I go? I need to deliver these slaves."

"Yeah…" Not-Dennis looks at the slaves with something approaching regret. "You not in for good time. Never become handsome super mutant like me. Very sad." … "Go away now!"

I heft the detonator box and point towards the exit, as the slaves pull their coats tightly around themselves and begin moving. "Everyone out. We're going for a walk."

They're not moving enthusiastically, but they are moving. Not-Dennis, his job done, heads back towards the pens and the oil barrel fires.

Just in case they think to try jumping the one person holding the detonator, I make a point of keeping some distance between us as we reach the Seattle street. There's an auxiliary unit of normal humans trying hard to stay warm across the street. Not knights… Local gangers? They're just wearing regular clothes with a winged sword emblem painted onto the cloth or scavenged armour plates.

Right. **[Where do they fear going?]**

**[I feel the steps of hundreds of other slaves trudging to their dooms, a path worn not in the snow but in the psyche of the world.]**

And I turn north, and lead the way from the side of the column.

And I **[feel the prisoners, looking for-.]**

Yes, that one. **[I can feel the chains of command upon him, and the places where the needle inscribed the cog on his skin.]**

I don't look at him.

**Keep walking.**

He flinches, but it's barely noticeable as he keeps his reactions to an absolute minimum.

**My name is Krono. I'm a telepath, and I'm currently holding your detonator.**

**So that's what the experiments are for.**

**I wouldn't know. I'm here to-. Well, technically not to rescue you, but I'm going to do that while I'm here. In return-.**

**You want to know what the Immortal's doing.**

**Indeed.**

**Why should I trust you?**

**Ad Victoriam, brother.**

Another flinch, and he can't quite keep his eyes from flicking to me.

**Prove it.**

The thugs down the road are watching, but they're not really paying close attention. They've seen this too many times before for it to be interesting.

I fish High Elder Törni's letter of introduction out of my robe, and march over towards him. "Hey, slave!"

He tries to look nervous as he turns his head my way. "Uuh. Uh, me?"

I grin maniacally. "Can you read, slave?"

"Yes?"

I thrust the letter into his face, making sure that my name and the signature are in front of his eyes.

"Does it help! Does it make your chains disappear?!"

He takes a moment, then stands a little straighter. "No sir, the chains are still there."

"Yeah!" I roll the letter back up and return it to my robe. "Good! And don't you forget it!"

**Paladin Abel reporting for duty, sir.**

**How many of these poor souls are yours?**

**Two are Brotherhood. Five are from a local outfit called The Wardens of the White. The rest are local people.**

**Reliable?**

**They hate the Bastards in Black just as much as I do. Sir, what kind of support can we expect?**

**Immediately? I'm it.**

**You a miracle worker?**

**How many telepaths do you know?**

**Two. Which isn't a lot, but it's more than most people. But seriously. Anyone?**

**I've got the stealth attack aircraft that brought me here, and there's a spaceship above us which can provide me with aerial images. But as far as soldiers go, the closest force that might offer to help is Heaven's Gate.**

**Fuck.**

**I'm not sure if their priestesses swear oaths of celibacy, so, maybe? Do you know what sort of forces the Immortal's got in Seattle?**

**No. I... Haven't seen any Black Paladins lately.**

**'Black Paladins'?**

**What they were going to do to us. Maybe. They take warriors into the forge complex, and they come out… Different. They don't get tired or feel pain, and they're psychotically aggressive but completely loyal.**

**Cybernetics? F.E.V.? Chems?**

**I don't know exactly. Can't say I was looking forward to finding out.**

**Any regular Paladins?**

**Some of the officers, maybe. I haven't seen any others since I got out with everyone who saw the Immortal for what he is. The rest of his army's mostly just raider scum, all following the toughest psycho in the city. Hey, how come you're here now?**

**The Immortal's people managed to grab a short-ranged strategic nuke and use it as a giant E.M.P. bomb. Managed to fry every active vacuum tube in California.**

**Strategic-? God!**

**Chinese remnants don't appear to have done anything yet, but we don't want to risk him doing it again. I need to know where he is and what his plans are. Would there be someone in this 'foundry' place who could answer my questions?**

**Yeah. His Head Scribe, a son of a bitch called Torland. He'll be there even if no one else is.**

**Good. Do these people know how to pilot power armour?**

**No, just the Brotherhood members. We didn't have suits to spare for anyone who wasn't already trained.**

**Fine. You'll go in as cowed prisoners. I'll deactivate your bombs and work out how to get you weapons. I'll interrogate and kill Torland, and you'll all walk out dressed like Paladins or militia.**

**Sounds like the outline of a plan. Ad Victoriam, sir.**

 

[Mr Zoat]

16th September 2013
15:22 GMT

High Mor Krandor Vat entered the room last, the other Mors regarding him solemnly. He'd asked for one more crisis, damn him, and what a crisis he had. He'd reviewed the files on the Illustres of the Orange Lantern Corps at length, attempting to work out how he'd so badly misread the situation. Why would he go so far out of his way for a people who offered him nothing when he had matters of greater concern to attend to?

Putting it together… Was a blow to the ego.

Why would he target the Thanagarian Empire when the Reach offended his morals more? Because his presence on Maltus undermined his nominal superior -something that Officer Hol had reporting that the Illustres had told his allies on Earth openly- and because they were using the war to unify the bonds between members of their alliance, and because -mighty as he is- he wouldn't be able to speed up the destruction of an empire as vast as the Reach by a significant amount.

Why would he support Hyathis, when she offered him nothing? Because she would kill fewer people, and that was the outcome that a human 'super hero' should seek. And while Hyathis could offer him nothing, there wasn't much that anyone could offer him when he was already favoured by the Controllers. If she had to sweeten the pot, she could offer him a gentler hand when dealing with her defeated foes, but the intelligence reports Andar Pul assembled seemed to show that was her plan anyway.

Why would he risk his life fighting Thanagar at all?

His eyes dipped as he reached his seat.

Because to him it wasn't much of a risk or an effort.

It should have been obvious before. But he had gotten too used to regarding tales from Earth as… Light entertainment, useful mostly as a reminder of the manifold abnormalities that exist in the universe, but not relevant to other places. But Katar Hol had written to him of an intelligent god-construct, of an atmosphere filled with glowing eyes, of the Illustres reporting that he could teleport across the galaxy in an instant.

A snake larger than Thanagar's entire star system.

It was indeed hard to measure the power of the most powerful of Lanterns. Hard to know what those things translated into in terms of raw destructive power.

He sat.

"Mors of Thanagar. We must be honest with ourselves. This is a difficult situation."

Silence. These meetings were not the proper place for frivolities, but an exhalation, some rustling of wings…

"We will not be able to revenge ourselves against Hyathis. The worlds she stole from us are, frankly, of little industrial value, save for the Forge of Vulcan. But in morale terms the damage is significant. This is the first time the number of worlds in our Empire has been reduced. The first time since this council was formed that our citizens have found themselves under a foreign sovereign."

He lets that occupy their minds for a moment. There is no sense in pretending this situation is anything like what they wanted it to be. There is no sense in pretending that he is announcing his retirement in a moment of triumph, an old foe ground underfoot and his successor in command of a secure empire.

"And according to our intelligence reports, the Illustres is organising an alliance amongst our first tranch of expansion targets. Based on his past behaviour, I suspect that this is merely meant to halt our expansion. Of the three stellar nations with significant naval forces, only one has shown an interest in action against us, but if the alliance is solidified we will have to abandon our scheduled offensive. Raiding may still be possible, but unless we wish to offer generous accession terms in competition to the alliance, it will achieve little."

There was no appetite for that at this table. As there should not be.

"Hyathis is willing to sell Nth metal to us, at a price slightly below what it takes us to transmute it for ourselves. Vulcan, naturally, has no particular attachment to us. Were we able to retake Conrall he would be content to work for us once more, but that is currently impractical. Perhaps more concerning, the treaty which I signed allows Hyathis to annex further Thanagarian worlds should she receive majority support from the people living there. Few of the Old Colonies have thanagarian majorities, and should her efforts at proselytism succeed the Illustres would support her acquiring them. I have already issued orders to improve their sensor networks and re-enforce their defence fleets in an attempt to keep her agents away, but I fear that we may have to dispatch Crows to train their civil defence forces in counter-insurgent operations."

"Currently, we possess no weapons that could reliably kill the Illustres. He had little notice when our planetary defence network opened fire but was able to block it with no observed strain." Though Bleez may not be an entirely disinterested witness. "And according to reports from Wingman Katar Hol and Wingwoman Shayera Thal, he possesses the ability to transfer his consciousness to cloned bodies, which means that even were we to be extremely fortunate, it would only delay him for a short time."

"I believe that the Thanagarian Empire must undergo a period of retrenchment and industrial construction. The New Colonies must be made economically significant faster than originally planned, and with supplies of Nth metal reduced we may as well put the space construction capacity to better use. We will also need to return to plans for non-Nth metal ships and technologies, as well as investing in additional Nth metal transmutation plants."

Minor gestures of agreement around the room. Good. It would be disappointing if any of them decided to do something childish now of all times.

"Since the one positive thing we can say about the situation is that we do not have to worry about a direct military invasion, we should make use of the time."

"The other matter is that I am resigning."

That elicits a few more responses. Some perhaps thought that he might choose to die in office, repairing the damage that his misjudgement had caused until it killed him. And perhaps a few of the more generous ones might think that some missteps were inevitable. The Empire he would be leaving would be far larger than the one he received from his predecessor…

But he can see with the benefit of hindsight where he could have done things different to avoid this crisis. Things rarely go so badly wrong as the result of a single poor decision, even if there is a single cut can reveal the festering meat under the skin…

"I have not earned the quiet retirement of my predecessors. Rather, I will take action which may improve our position, but which will require this council's ignorance. The chance of success is not great, and I do not want blame falling upon the Empire should I fail."

He reaches up, and removes the helmet of the High Mor from his head and lays it on the table in front of him.

"It has been an honour to serve Thanagar."

None of them say anything as he rises and for the last time leaves the body that he's led for decades. That he's been a member of for far longer. And he's grateful for that. In any case, what would there be to say? And inside… He had thought that he might feel relief. Perhaps he might, were he retiring to live out his remaining years in leisure. But as things stand, he feels only disquiet.

This is something that he could have done at any point. His predecessor shared the required communication protocols, while advising him against ever using them. Tempting as the possibilities were, the cost in encouraging dependency would have been too great.

But now..?

He reaches his office, also for the last time, and activates the secure communications array.

The response isn't immediate. Given that the line has stood unused for decades that isn't unreasonably, but given the significance of what he's doing he can't help but feel a little irritation.

"Yes?"

There's no face, and the voice isn't similar to any he's heard before. The system says that they're speaking plekesh, but that doesn't mean anything. Picking up a few new languages is the least of what they can do.

"I have volunteers. Myself, and one other."

There's a pause. They're probably having to check what he's supposed to be volunteering for.

"That is acceptable. However, another option has arisen, if you are interested."

It's not as if he was eager.

"Tell me more."