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

[Mr Zoat]

3rd December 2282
12:23 GMT

A ghoul in a suit topped off with a frock coat is sitting at a table reading a report as I'm led into what appears to be a private dining room. There's a hat stand with a matching top hat on it in the corner of the room, along with a cane propped up by the base. He's either acquired the services of an expert wig maker or he's one of the rare ghouls who managed to hang on to most of their hair during the transformation process, possessing as he does a full head of black hair and mutton chop sideburns. He's-.

"My God, is that tea?"

His eyes move from the report to me without any other part of his body moving. He considers me for a moment.

"Yes, actually. Roper. Who is this?"

"An ambassador from California, My Lord."

"Really, now. I'd rather assumed that the Chinese would have thoroughly ruined the place. How on Earth did they miss California?"

I hesitate, then Roper looks at me and nods.

"They didn't, My Lord. But California was reasonably well served with Vaults, and RobCo undertook the defence of the Mojave region. Plus it.. has been two hundred years. Even salted nuclear warheads don't stay dangerously radioactive forever."

"Educated too, that's a welcome surprise." He lays down his report, though not his tea. "Roper, his affidavits."

Lieutenant Roper advances, my letter of introduction in hand, and holds it out to Lord Harold. Lord Harold takes it, unfolds it one-handed and reads it carefully.

"Mmpf. Hayes. I assume he's not one of us?"

"British, My Lord? No. There are very few British people in America."

He gives me a faint glare. "No, one of us."

"A Simon, My Lord?"

His lip moves in a mild expression of distaste at the word. "Yes, one of the… Gentry."

"No. Um, I'm.. sorry if I've offended, but I was told that 'Simon' was the accepted nomenclature."

Lord Harold looks at Roper, who nods. "I'll have a word with the sergeant, My Lord."

"See that you do. The term 'Simon' is informal slang, used largely by the lower orders. 'Gentry' is more polite, though only used to refer to those of us who predate the war and occupy positions of seniority. You can use 'ardens' for everyone else, as in homo sapiens ardens."

"'Ardens' is a good deal more polite than what they settled on in America."

"Naturally. And yes. It is tea."

"Does Britain have trade with India? I realise that it's possible with wooden ships-."

"A two hundred day round trip in a clipper. We tried it, but only a fraction of the ships made it back. It should be an easier journey from California."

"They drink coffee."

"Ah." He nods. "And I suppose that the Chinese reds mined the route."

An interesting point. As far as I know, even the Shi haven't tried to make the journey to China. I don't even think that NCR traders have tried to reach Hawaii. Their trade ships and warships mostly hug the coastline when they're at sea. I… Honestly don't know what the deep oceans are like. I would have assumed that the places that weren't sterilised by radiation would be mostly recovered by now, were it not for the fact that I've seen fog crawlers and the wanamingos. As it is, I've got no idea what might be happening out to sea.

"I don't know, but that's certainly a possibility."

"Very well." He tosses the letter across the table, where it is recovered by Lieutenant Roper and returned to me. "On behalf of Her Majesty's government, I recognise you as the Ambassador of this.. 'New California Republic', Your Excellency."

"Thank you."

"You're on the wrong side of the continent for us to trade with, assuming that America's successor states have abandoned the position of isolationism."

"Given how things have collapsed, it would be impractical to enforce it. Though I'm afraid that damage to America's shipping infrastructure means that we can't really initiate trades and won't be able to for some time."

What have we actually got to trade, anyway? Brahmin and big horners are useful food animals that are adapted for radiation, but I'm not sure how well either would do in Britain. Robots? They wouldn't have the infrastructure. Water?

I just about stop myself laughing at the idea of Britain needing to import water, of all things.

G.E.C.K.s? Yes, them and everyone else will want those. Weapons? They don't have America's nuclear energy supplies. Fusion cells? They don't have the infrastructure. Knowledge? Expert personnel? Seed samples?

Lord Harold nods. "I suppose that it's worthwhile just knowing that there are other survivors in the world. So: just what is the New California Republic?"

"The people in Vault Fifteen founded a town named Shady Sands in twenty ninety seven. At that point the radiation levels were low enough for them to use their seed reserves to start farming. As the years passed the village grew into a town and got into contact with other groups of survivors. They started trading; Shady Sands had food but was short of metal and machine parts, while the survivors in Californian cities needed fresh food. In twenty one eighty nine the towns had enough in common that it made sense to come together under a shared banner, using their combined military to eliminate outlaws, raider bands and giant mutant animals from their territory. Since then, the NCR has expanded across most of the old State of California's territory and into Baja California and Nevada. Mostly peacefully, sometimes with the threat of violence and occasionally with an actual war."

"War with who?"

"The Enclave, the Brotherhood of Steel and Caesar's Legion. The Enclave were a group of descendants of part of the old American government who decided to create a weaponised virus to kill everyone else in the world. The NCR allied with the Brotherhood of Steel to destroy their bases in California, but relations broke down afterwards when the Brotherhood started demanding that the NCR hand over all advanced technology in their possession. The NCR won, and the two groups have recently signed a peace treaty. Caesar's Legion are a group of tribes brought together under the leadership of a fascist historian. They conquered the entirety of Arizona before coming into conflict with the NCR, a war which is still ongoing."

Lord Harold's eyes narrow. "Did you just say 'Cai-sar's Legion', Your Excellency? Romans?"

"He styled them after a very jaundiced version of Roman history. It's not the most ridiculous thing in America, but it is the most ridiculous that's gotten too many people killed to laugh about." I shrug. "How have things been here?"

"A mess. The nuclear missiles flew early and often, and then what little was left was subjected to decades of raids that we lacked the infrastructure to respond to. Her majesty managed to return to London to take command, but it wasn't until twenty two thirty eight that we managed to destroy the insurgent groups in London alone, let alone reach out to anywhere else. I am here to restore the control of the government to the south coast; law and order, infrastructure, governance and nationhood."

I nod. "I stopped by my home village on the way here. There didn't seem to be any sort of overarching authority."

"That's our experience of how it works. People are too busy surviving to do anything else. I prefer that. I led men of the coastal rapid reaction force before things fell apart completely. Fighting our own people leaves a bad taste in m' mouth."

I nod. "I saw a mutant whale on the docks."

"Yes, they're reasonably common in these waters now. We're hoping that we can harvest their oil as a fuel source. Shipping coal this far south is difficult, and would be impractical for naval purposes anyway."

I frown. "Why? That's what we used to do, before we switched over to oil powered engines."

"Because it will take decades at best before we can restore the railway lines north to south, and we're not the only nation harvesting whales. The French are up to something, and not a man jack of us is prepared to let them get the jump on us again."

 

[Mr Zoat]

13th April 2013
15:22 GMT

"…out how you were getting on with it?"

The J-ian plant woman in front of me hasn't stopped staring wide-eyed since I landed. In fact, just about everyone I've flown past on my way here stared quite a lot, which… I mean, I like to think that if my kingdom was in the galactic minority and I knew that for a fact, I'd be a lot less surprised when an intelligent being from a different kingdom stopped by for a visit. It should be even less of a big deal when it's a Lantern, since they know for a fact that Lanterns can look like just about anything. Their Sector's current and former Lanterns may have been from J, but the ones before that certainly weren't.

"I say, are you alright?"

"Yes. Yes! I'm perfectly fine. Are you?"

I smile. "Yes, thank you for asking. But-."

"Are you sure? Your… Leaves look… Dead."

I.. blink. "Ah, my species doesn't photosynthesise. This-" I reach up with my right hand and run it through my hair. "-is fur. Keratin, mostly. It's a sort of built-in sunshade for my brain."

…

"Huuuuuuuuh."

"So, the computer?"

"Oh, that's great! We're in the middle of a-." She frowns. "Look, this is… Probably a stupid question, it's a big universe with lots of meat in it, but do you know the person who got it in the first place?"

"Yes." I nod. "It was me."

Her eyes widen. "Rea-?!" Then she calms herself. "Oh. Right. That's why you're checking up on things."

"Yes it is. So?"

"The speed of our computer stems and macro intelligences has increased a thousand fold, and the rollout's been surprisingly simple. The technology is so much like ours, while still being… Different? Alien? Where did you get it?"

"I bought it from an arms dealer, who got it from a stellar civilisation called The Dominion. I'm not sure why they started using plant-based computers; the rest of their technology base is more conventional. It's pretty old by their standards, but I'm glad that you've found it helpful."

I should probably investigate in more detail, because… Pamela hasn't, as far as I can tell. I suppose that her greater focus on plant-based magic means that she doesn't really need plant machines in the same way that the people of J do. And other than bringing himself up to full Alec Holland intelligence I haven't seen any sign that Swamp Thing has either.

"Thank you for bringing it here."

"And how about the people from Alstair?"

"They're… Weird and alien, but…" She stares at me again, then blinks as she realises what she's doing and who she's talking to. "Um."

"I'm familiar with how different our physiologies are."

"Right! Ah, they-. They're similar enough to us that the differences really stand out-. Physically, I mean. But they're good people, hard workers, and… There's been an increase in people being interested in… Mysticism. Magic. Because of how much they use it."

"But no real friction?"

"No, not at all. In fact, some of the researchers, they-." Her bark hardens slightly. "Ah…"

"Say no more. I'll leave you to your work."

I

step out, focusing on the familiar desires of Alstair. There's some sort of blur in the way, but it's easy to

work through-.

Ships burn and break all around me as the four-way war for Antares hots up! I armour up right away and generate construct shields just as the first optimistic volley of flak fire heads in my direction.

Um.

Now, they've been fighting for a very long time. This doesn't mean-.

Incoming message.

…

Answer?

"Hell-"

"Orange Lantern! I am so glad that you're here!"

"-o, Queen Hyathis. Um."

A large and heavily armoured ship from Mosteel wheels out of control in space, some sort of… Lichen? Eating through its hull. Moments later its structural integrity fails completely, exposing the interior structures to space. Including the crew.

"What's happening?"

"I'm winning. I'm finally winning! And I have you to thank for it!"

"The Orange Lantern Corps-."

"Was kind enough to provide me with a trading partner, new and superior computers and weapons. A new generation of ships and a whole new-"

Something takes hold of my construct barriers and turns me around.

"-me."

Hyathis is… A giant. Or at least has created a giant avatar for herself.

She releases me and raises her right arm, hyper velocity seedpods launched from some sort of internal mechanism and smashing into -through in some cases- a destroyer squadron from Dhor.

"Thanks to your computer, my mind has been expanded. This is child's play now! Oh no you don't!"

Her head turns towards… A flotilla trying to retreat out of interdiction range. Her left arm waves and their thrusters flare and fail.

"Did you think you could fly into my battle space and not pick up a few spores! Fools!"

"So… This isn't them ganging up on you because you'd pulled a little ahead, an alliance that will fall apart the moment that you're beaten back?"

"No. Not this time. This is their last hurrah before my new fleet puts itself in orbit around their worlds and does as it will. I will seed their biospheres and make prisons of their worlds, and then concern myself with them never again! And then…"

Giant eyes glow.

"Thanagar."

…

Huh.

"I'm going to have to ask that you don't seek Diana out for a rematch."

 

[Mr Zoat]

5th December 2282
14:00 GMT

The Archbishop's face falls slightly as he gives me the bad news which, now that I think about it, I should have expected.

Getting a meeting with The Most Reverend Primate Calvin Robinson merely took a few surveillance pictures of French dockyards and a promise to relay a letter to any Anglicans in NCR territory in America. As expected, he's a ghoul, and also the man responsible for keeping the Church of England together during the Resource Wars and the post-apocalypse period. He was an old man when he turned into 'one of the Gentry', and…

"I think it speaks well of your character that you're prepared to have your marriage solemnised before God, but if you are not a Christian then I cannot perform the ceremony. And nor can I allow any of the priests in the Church of England to perform it in my stead."

"Yeah. No, that makes sense, actually."

He frowns in puzzlement. "Then why did you ask me?"

"Because my fiancée is a Christian, and a Church of England vicar would be a compromise between her denomination and my.. own preferences."

"You could accept baptism yourself. That would remove the obstacle."

"Yes, but I don't believe in God. I like the Anglican Church. I believe that Christianity has been a good and civilising influence on the world. I even met a demon once, and it was revolting. But when you get right down to it I'm not a man of faith and I have yet to see definitive evidence of God's presence in the world, so… Getting a baptism would involve lying about converting."

He nods, frowning faintly. "Which denomination does she belong to? They might be willing to modify their ceremony to accommodate you."

"She's a Mormon. Her whole tribe-."

He shakes his head. "Mormons aren't Christians."

"Are you-?" Heh. "Sorry, I just realised I was about to ask the Archbishop of Canterbury if he was sure what a Christian is. But… They sound fairly Christian? I'm not sure why you're making the distinction."

"The Old Testament is essentially the Jewish Torah. That doesn't make Christians Jewish, or Jews Christians. There is overlap of course, but the Mormons have altered both the beliefs essential to Christianity and the books of their version of the Bible too much to still be considered part of Christianity."

"Oh. Ah, alright. Well." I lean forwards, about to rise from my chair. "Thank you for your time. Oh, just.. one thing. What's the Church's view on magic?"

"Magic?" He sounds sceptical.

"Yes, magic. As I said, I've encountered a demon, as well as various.. strange phenomena. And pre-War America was experimenting with psychic abilities."

"That's not a question I've spent a great deal of time considering." He thinks for a moment as I sit back. "Attempting to communicate with demons is forbidden, for obvious reasons. Demons exist to tempt men to sin against God. Bargaining with them for any reason is completely incompatible with Christian morality. Similarly, there are no gods but God, if you'll forgive the Mohammadian phrasing. Attempting to communicate with 'spirits' is also forbidden, because they don't exist and the person doing it would either simply be wasting their time or in reality be communicating with a demon. As for things which are merely strange, well." He gestures to himself with his right hand. "I don't believe that Adam ever looked like this. And I haven't ever encountered 'psychic' phenomena that weren't simply confidence tricks."

I reach out with my right hand and telekinetically pull a book off his bookshelf.

"Ah." He blinks four times in rapid succession, his mouth opening slightly and then closing again. "Lord Harold didn't mention that."

I shrug as I return the book. "I didn't tell him."

"Is this ability natural to you?"

I-. I don't nod. "It's induced. There's a machine they built before the war, based on alien technology."

"But it's part of your body now."

"Yes."

"And it's purely physical?"

"As far as I understand it, yes."

He smiles faintly. "Then that's perfectly alright. Performing magic by using demons is a sin because it involves negotiating with demons, not because it lets you do something that men can't normally do. That doctrine comes from the early Church, when they had no way of distinguishing between 'magic' and chemistry, or other profane methods. Would you like me to put that in writing?"

Would I?

"You know what? Yes. I'll frame it and put it on the wall as a conversation starter."

"In that case, perhaps I could make something a little more artistic." His smile broadens. "How long will you be in Britain?"

"A few days more, unless my tribe needs me to return sooner. Lord Harold has asked me to help with tracking the whale pods, and the rest of the… Gentry?" He nods. "Are discussing how to handle foreign ambassadors. I'm told that there's a chance I might even get to meet Her Majesty."

"Yes." His smile fades slightly. "I suppose that would be appropriate. I will draft a Bull which lays out the theological case fully, with references to the writings of the founders of the Church and its greatest theologians. It should be an interesting challenge."

"Is there.. a problem? With the Queen?"

"The Queen…" He sighs. "I was one of the first people in Britain to change, like this." He briefly glances at a wall-mounted mirror. "I was working in London when the first missiles fell. I believed that it was the death knell of civilisation on Earth and I wanted to serve God and my community once more before the end, ministering to the sick and dying. When my hair fell out I assumed that I had radiation sickness and would soon be meeting my Creator. Instead, I kept going. When it became clear that the radiation wouldn't kill me, I went out into the most radioactive parts of the city to see if there was anyone I could rescue whom the emergency services couldn't reach. It was a grim time."

He frowns faintly at the recollection. "What disturbed me most was not the dead and dying, or the… People who looked like me but still possessed their wits. There were…"

"Ferals."

"Ferals?" He thinks for a moment. "That's not a bad name for them, I suppose."

"It's what they're called in America. Ardens who have lost their minds, either due to brain damage or due to their… Situation."

"I thought that they were in shock. They followed me willingly enough. It wasn't until we reached the aid station that… Their bestial nature revealed itself. You won't hear many of the Gentry making mention of them today."

I nod. "As I understand it, you've got an ardens aristocracy."

"Our pre-War leaders still remember when Britain was a nation. Outside of Cornwall, there haven't been any efforts to create new countries, but they're the people most strongly motivated to bring us all together. Our pre-War scientists are the best educated people in the nation." He shrugs. "Trinity College isn't what it was. And a soldier with two hundred years of experience is a very good soldier."

"And the mental decay?"

"Some… Some start to show the signs. I think that's why they haven't tried incorporating the Church into their organisation directly. I assign chaplains to make themselves available to any who need counselling. None of them want to admit to needing their help to keep going. None of them want to put someone with blackmail material in position to be their rival rather than their priest."

I nod. "Jolly decent of you."

"But the Queen…" He sighs. "She changed late. I'm not sure exactly what happened. I had already been sent to Canterbury to take control of what was left of the Church, and I've only spoken to her in person a few times since then. Mostly she was entirely lucid, but… Sometimes…"

"I… See. My abilities extend to probing minds. I usually don't look deeply, but if it's for her health, then…"

He nods emphatically. "Please do. She is a good monarch and a good woman and no one deserves to have that happen to them."

 

[Mr Zoat]

14th April 2013
17:47 GMT -5

Word's gotten out.

I didn't base myself in a hospital because while I'm de jure immune to prosecution or punishment, the doctors there wouldn't be. Probably. But several of today's chronic patients were brought here by ambulance, after their usual doctor mentioned that while they couldn't recommend that people come here, it was certainly an option that a private citizen could pursue.

I don't mind, but… I wasn't planning for this to be an ongoing thing, and it doesn't make sense in terms of utility. If internet connections were reliable I could just create a webpage where people could list their main ailment and what other modifications they were content to have-.

"Nonsense! Zhe human brain is more zhan capable of perceiving sound in three dimensions!"

"Yeah, but… I don't want my ear transplanted to the top of my head."

"Zhat is where owls have it! Do you zhink you know better zhan owls?! Can you catch moths mit your mouth?!"

Karon and I make momentary eye contact, both of us wincing.

"Unt what would we replace it with? Ah! Why don't we let you see sideways!"

As before, that announcement is immediately met with the sound of hurried feet and the slamming of a door.

"Ingrate!"

Karon winces as she watches the patients with cataracts blindly flee for the door and miss.

"Ah… I think you should see that guy next."

"You calm him down, I'll calm Cranius down."

"Sounds good." She affects a public service smile and walks over to help the man up, while I head into Cranius's work area-.

Then step back because Cranius was right behind the door.

"Ah! So!" … "Oh, it's you." He shakes his head… Or whole body, I suppose, then retreats back into the room. "Anozher fool who will not change."

I frown as I follow him, closing the door behind me as Karon escorts his former patient to an ice pack.

"Me or him?"

He rotates on Otto's shoulders, waving Otto's right arm dismissively. "Oh, bozh of you. Your ring gives you anyzhing you want, and you turn yourself into a swimsuit model!"

"Yes? Because looking like this gives me everything I want..?"

"But you could want more!"

"Yes." I nod. "But I don't. It took me a while to even reconfigure my own eyes."

"Even reindeer can see ultraviolet light! You cannot tell me that you could not modify yourself in zhat way."

"I could, but… I'd have to either reconfigure a bunch of things -and I don't know how to do that- or… Change how I perceive all other colours to make room. And even if I could work out how to safely change my brain, I'd be stopping myself doing other things with my time while I adjusted."

"Jah, it's always harder for zhe first one to untergo zhe process!" He sags, though Otto remains completely upright. The effect is to make him look like he doesn't have a neck, which.. is technically true. "But nobody wants to experiment!"

"No, people do want to experiment, they're just not as enthusiastic for-." I frown at him. "Okay, there's something about you that I don't understand. Your brain is made of human brains, right?"

"Jah? What of it?"

"Humans have a built-in sense of what's healthy. What things should look like. But assuming that your brain is working more or less like a normal human brain… With some extras, you should have that same sense. You may not like this intellectually but you should understand it empathically."

"Anton Arcane would not have left such a thing in any of us."

"So why don't you add it back in?"

"Because zhat would make me like everyone else!"

"But you'd be able to understand them better. Be able to understand what they'd accept better."

"Geh."

Some of the tension leaves-. Well, leaves Otto, but I assume that it was coming from his domitor. I can see Cranius's anger-. Ah. Something Anton Arcane did to compel his creation to do this sort of work.

"Have you..? Ever had yourself checked out by a professional magician? My friend Superboy, when he was broken out of Cadmus Laboratories, he had codes implanted in his brain that could be activated by speaking to him. Compulsions-."

"Yah, we had a compulsion to throw ourselves off a cliff when Arcane died."

"But are you sure that's the only one? Because I can see a very strong drive in you to-."

"Jah! I was made as a tool. I was not made as a man. Why are you surprised that my desires relating to zhe zhing I was made to do are strong!"

"If that's who you are then that's who you are. I just think it would be worth checking. But if you don't want to do that, then I suggest moderating your demands. Pick something that doesn't change their outside so much, or something that's more aesthetically pleasing. That's what I do. You can even suggest stranger things at the start to-."

"Clearly-" He puts Otto in 'drive' and storms past me. "-I em wasting my time here."

"Cranius-."

He turns on his heel and thrusts his face towards mine. "Unt your mole composition is all wrong!"

Huh?

Another set of slammed doors, and a brief intake of breath from the waiting room as he stomps through, and then out into the street outside.

What's wrong with my mole composition? I mean, obviously the sort of symmetry I have doesn't occur in nature, but so what? They can do their job if I'm not carrying my-

"Paul?"

-ring. "Karon?"

She comes back into the corridor from my workroom. "If Cranius has gone, would you mind fixing Kevin's cataracts? I don't think he's going to volunteer for anything experimental."

"Yeah, I'll do that."

He glances towards the front door. "Is he coming back?"

"I don't know. Maybe." I shake my head. "Probably not. He can't settle for less than radical physical transformations, and…"

"Not everyone wants to be a squid-man."

"Yeah. But, that's his problem. Let's sort Kevin out now."

Maybe I can sell him on reindeer eyes?

 

[Mr Zoat]

14th April 2013
19:34 GMT -5

"Did you ever have to deal with anyone like that?"

Alan… Gives me a sort of hopeless frown coupled with a shake of his head.

"I suppose that depends on what you mean by 'deal with'."

"Ego management."

"No." He shakes his head, eyes dropping momentarily to his glass. "I came close to needing to have a word with Starman about his… Relationship, but he did the right thing before it got that far."

"Oh. I wasn't sure that you knew about that."

He shrugs. "Like I said, he ended it before it went any further. I didn't have any reason to bring it up with anyone. And that was still true after Interceptor brought it up in front of Dinah, because that was a parallel universe. How did you know about it?"

"Found the private detective's notes."

"Huh." He makes an amused exhalation. "I'm surprised they were still intact."

"I didn't say that finding them was easy. But you never had to deal with anyone like Cranius?"

"That's a fairly niche set of motives. Didn't..?" His eyes narrow in thought. "Didn't Batman fight someone like that? Professor… Pig?"

"Doctor Valentin turned people into living dolls under his control. It's… Really not the same thing." Hm. "Unless the person in question wanted to be a doll, I suppose. But even then, there's no improvement in function. It's more like… When Doctor Crane had his brain transplanted from his Robotman body into Charles Grayson's body."

He looks contemplative for a moment. "Huh. Yeah, I guess it is. I only spoke to him a few times afterwards, but I do remember him being a whole lot more cheerful about life."

"He never said anything about building robot bodies for anyone else?"

"No. There wasn't a whole lot of demand for it."

"Really? No polio patients stuck in iron lungs who were interested in giving it a try?"

"Ah… Don't take this the wrong way, Paul, but most people like being as human as they can be. Crane spent about twenty years totally numb to all sensation. And that was after… For a while after he first got put in that thing, he kept getting phantom sensations in body parts he didn't have anymore. And he had a lot of trouble sleeping… I suppose I don't know if it was better or worse than an iron lung, but I can understand people not exactly being eager."

"But Morrow already had realistic robot skin back then. If he combined the two, and maybe made a robot body with slightly more human proportions, it would have been much better."

"Except that he couldn't. Morrow was… Well, he was a lot of things, but he was definitely a genius. Crane could hit harder than most people because his body was made of metal. A lot of his joints weren't actually all that strong. One time, he clocked a regular guy across the jaw and needed to replace one of his fingers afterwards. If he was gunna do what you said, he'd probably be better getting Morrow to design the whole thing and just let him and Grayson handle the surgery and the interface." He chuckles quietly. "And if supervillains did things like that without someone walking them through it, you'd be a whole lot less busy."

"Ah, not right now."

I take a moment to look around the restaurant. Things are… Well, before the Broadcast I get the impression that this was a medium tier restaurant. The menu would be written in French, but they'd include a translation without sniffing at you. Now… They've had to rewrite their menu based on what's available, and the near-collapse of the currency means that things are a good deal more plebeian.

I sip my apple juice, and-.

Bring-bring! Bring-bring!

Alan and I both check our rings.

"It's me. Hello?"

"Did you put Guy up to this?"

"Hello Beatriz, lovely to hear from you."

"Yes, yes, hello. Did you?"

"I've had an influence on Guy for a while. What exactly are you talking about?"

"Do you know about… His… Family?"

"Ah, that's still not very precise, but probably. And I know that he runs an anger…" Huh. "Management class. Has he..?"

"Said I should come along? Yes."

"Well, it's almost certainly an honest attempt to help, because he's been in the same sort of situation. And I didn't put him up to it, as you put it. Oh, and I mentioned the tidying up thing, let me know how that goes."

"You really didn't put him up to it?"

"You.. know that Guy used to work as a prison therapist, right? His job was helping people serving custodial sentences get their heads on straight. If he's offered to help you, then it's a serious offer."

"So you've given up on curing me."

Ah… "What's Norway's position on marijuana legalisation?"

"Prescription only."

"Well, there's… That." Oh. "Or I know a specialist in metahuman medicine, but last time he worked on someone who could manipulate fire, they ended up without a head."

"That's supposed to be an expert?"

"He re-engineered their body so that they wouldn't need a head after they received a fatal head injury. The result.. isn't pretty, but it's functional. He's good, but he likes doing radical transformations."

"I'll make that my fourth option."

"Alright. Any news on the search?"

"No. Has the Justice League heard anything?"

"Too much. With medicine production and transportation well below normal levels, there are quacks all over the place."

"'Quacks'?"

"Fraudsters. Fakes. We can't find the one you're looking for because there are too many. I'll let you know-."

"Hang on, I've got another call."

"Ah-."

Beep.

I frown, and Alan raises his eyebrows. "Is there a problem?"

"She had another caller. I'm on-"

Beep.

"He proposed?!"

"-hold."

 

[Mr Zoat]

15th April 2013
09:02 GMT -5

"So, um…" I shrug, turning my right hand palm-up in a hand-shrug. "I understand that LexCorp is now the biggest thing ever?"

Lex… Seems distracted. I spot three twitches as he is about to engage in displacement activity but stops himself. That's unusual. Lex is usually too in character for something like that.

"Yes. We've finally got energy supply contracts with the last few holdout countries, and legislators have informally accepted the fait accompli as far as the Earth Defence Force in concerned."

I nod, and raise an imaginary glass in a toast. "Congratulations on your status as Earth's first megacorp. I for one welcome our new corporate overlords."

"I admit that I find it a little frustrating, using products that LexCorp has to licence in order to advance this far."

I shake my head. "Knowledge and learning are nothing without application. The greatest physician in the world is useless if they never heal anyone. You've done with these artefacts what their inventors couldn't. And it's not as if you're resting on your laurels. LexCorp continues to lead the world in dozens of fields. Oh, and… How are things with Veronica?"

"They're going well. I think I'm going to ask her to marry me." He notices my raised eyebrows. "Assuming that we can negotiate a mutually acceptable pre-nuptial agreement."

"Remind me: is this your first stab at married life?"

"No, but… Now, I'm in a position to actually give the relationship the time it needs. No more eighteen hour days maniacally focused on building up my company while the relationship sours." He gives me a sidelong look. "As if I really needed to remind you of that."

I shrug. "Social conversation. You asked me here, you're clearly going somewhere with this… At this point I'm just keeping things moving."

He turns to look out of the window. "I didn't think it would happen this quickly. Though I suppose that's the advantage of using a fifty year old starship design and a seventy year old power source. When I first joined with our former colleagues, I assumed that it would take decades at least to come this far."

"Amazing what happens when the right talents come together."

He head snaps back to me. "You were right."

"I usually am. What about?"

"My… Paranoia. My inability to trust, my need to control… After you and Mister Truggs oh so subtly drew attention to it, I spoke to my sister. And… My alter-ego, you remember, the one with the golden power ring."

I nod. He needs to get this off his chest at his own speed.

"You all said more or less the same thing. You all have your own motives, but there was something in my mind that insisted you were all… Conspiring against me. I've had thoughts like that before, but I… I assuaged them by ensuring that any move against me would result in mutual destruction of all parties involved. But I couldn't see a way to destroy you, I didn't want to destroy my sister… So I forced myself to review the evidence. And everything that you've done says to me that you're genuine."

"So the problem was in my head. And that is not acceptable. Finding an acceptable psychiatrist was… Difficult, as was finding a telepath to suppress the memories of our sessions. I don't know if I'm… Fully recovered-. If I'll ever fully recover, but I've been advised that speaking to you directly is the next step in the process."

I nod. "Well… Thank you for your honesty. I realise that the way I dealt with our former colleagues wasn't likely to incite confidence, and I appreciate how difficult this must have been for you. I… Dimly remember my own time on Apokolips prior to my escape, how… Everyone around me was a threat, everyone… Would abandon any agreement we made just because. I couldn't function like that. I coped more by keeping my head down, rather than ensuring that whoever killed me wouldn't live to enjoy their victory, but I suspect that the general feeling was much the same."

"I suppose that your father was worse than mine."

"Objectively, yes. Relatively? No, no I don't think so. Mine actually had an affirmative use for me." I exhale sharply through my nose. "Still does. And hey, you got away without ritually uncreating yourself."

"Do you-? Still.. feel it?"

"Not when I'm here. But when I go back to Apokolips… Then it comes back. But…" I shrug. "Then I've got something healthy to compare it to. It can't be the same as it was."

Lex bows his head slightly. "I was hoping that I'd feel… Different, after saying this out loud."

"Not that simple, I'm afraid." I shrug. "Though if you want to speed things up, there are a few options."

He raises his eyebrows. "More telepathy?"

"Magic. There's a ritual that would let you directly experience my soul structures. Give you a complete awareness of my nature. I wouldn't be capable of lying to you like that, of hiding anything. And you wouldn't be capable of denying what you were experiencing. It bypasses some problems of normal psychotherapy."

"Are there any drawbacks?"

"It's a level of intimacy that you might be uncomfortable in engaging in with another man. Particularly if you're planning on getting married."

"Ah. Perhaps we can leave that as a last resort."

I nod. "Fungus is your best bet, then." He gives me a small frown. "Magic mushrooms, as we used to call them. Gives you a cognitive reset. Not much help if you're still in an unhealthy environment, but if you've got that fixed, it could help. Otherwise…" Hm. "I don't know. It might be something you can just work past, but the human brain isn't anything like as plastic in an adult as it is in a child. If the structures of your neural network is now predisposed to paranoia, you could be stuck with it unless you find a way to alter the physical structures of your brain. And while there are ways to do that, I wouldn't exactly want to recommend any of them."

"Send me a report anyway. I refuse to allow my father's legacy to color my life."

I nod. "Can do."

"The other matter I wish to discuss with you is your father."

I smile with the left side of my mouth. "Only fair, I suppose. Darkseid, formerly Uxas, looks like me only bald and worse."

"I haven't asked for specifics. I'm still not asking. But how close are you to being able to take action?"

I shrug. "I could take action now, it's just that the chance of winning is abysmally low. Not zero, but…" I sigh. "Apokolips doesn't have a large conventional fleet, and what it has is fairly specialised. If we continue building up the EDF according to current plans, we'll be ready to take it in a conventional fight in about two years."

He looks mildly surprised. "That soon?"

I shake my head. "The fleets aren't the problem. The problem is the Anti-Life. We could land an invasion force in the Armagetto, and even if they deployed no military forces in defence, everyone would be dead by the time it reached the Tower of Rage. The handful of people we have -myself included- who are resistant enough to survive that long would be driven mad as he gave us his personal attention."

"Then why not perform an orbital bombardment this.. Tower of Rage?"

"Because if we don't fight on his terms he'll actually start trying. He can easily destroy our fleet with the Omega Effect, or with ground-based weapon systems, or by boom tubing suicide troopers onto the ships. He doesn't care about the loss of life or materiel. The only thing he cares about is learning more about the Anti-Life Equation, and forcing our brains to run it for a while as it teaches him something. The best idea I've got for beating him involves hitting him with something that he'll want to get hit by, something he thinks he'll be able to beat but which he actually can't."

Lex nods, then looks at me curiously. "Like what?"

I snort. "I'll tell you when I find something."

 

[Mr Zoat]

15th April 2013
10:21 GMT -5

Well this brings back memories.

Bleez awkwardly tries to navigate the bayou foliage in the air, mud still dripping off her boots where she briefly gave up and tried walking. Donna waves around a broken branch as she channels Gaea's magic to try and work out where Swamp Thing is hiding. Kara-

"Empty!" … "Empty!" … "Empty!"

-is busy flying around checking his abandoned bodies, which will at least make this faster than the first time we tried this.

Pamela and Euanthe aren't interested in helping with farming, but South America will have enough fruiting plants to ensure that starvation shouldn't be an issue. Though reclaiming land… Might be. I don't know, maybe I'm just too set in my ways to accept shamanistic culture as an equal to material technological culture even in a world where it can be. Adrianna will similarly prevent starvation in North Africa, with enough produce left over to take the pressure off the Mediterranean basin and central Africa. Swamp Thing… Could be really helpful. Even if he's not prepared to go all-out, we could stop worrying about a significant chunk of the planet if he could do a little reforestation. Or design a super fruit or two for us.

"Empty!" … "Empty!" … "Empty!"

"Kara! Kar-"

And she's right in front of me, arms folded behind her back and smile beaming.

"-a! Can you tell how old any of the bodies are? He's around here a lot."

"Um. Kind of? He makes magic-plants, and I don't really know how fast they break down or go mouldy? But you said in your report that he looked different last time you saw him because he had a computer plant-brain, and I haven't seen any computer plant-brain bodies."

"Drat."

Her eyes widen. "And double drat!"

"No, no, it's 'drat, drat, and double drat'."

"But then you've already got two drats."

"No one's calling Dick Dastardly a rational agent. Donna, anything?"

She shakes her head. "He's used so much green magic that this whole area is inundated with it. I couldn't tell you where he's been recently. Maybe… You should have asked for Zatanna."

"No, she's working on the Atlantis situation, Garth and Tula are inside Atlantis and Robert is actually doing farm work. If you can't find him then you can't find him."

Super strength's lack of utility presenting a problem again. Donna did a remarkable job of keeping peoples' hopes up after the Broadcast as well as engaging and defeating the Justifiers without inflicting a single fatality, but there honestly isn't much she can do to help fix things in the aftermath. Which includes using Cronus's blessing on farmlands because apparently being ritually castrated messed up his ability to do anything… Generative.

"Did his wife say anything?"

"Empty!" … "Empty!" … "Empty!"

I shake my head. "Hasn't seen him since the Broadcast. Which isn't all that unusual because he sometimes loses track of things, except that he'd stopped doing that recently thanks to his newly functional brain. Might have been the fungoids, might have been the Anti-Life, might… Actually have been something entirely unrelated."

Bleez awkwardly drifts a little closer. "I don't think I understand how big a deal this is."

"We don't understand how big a deal this is. The Parliament of Trees has been missing since the Broadcast, but earthly plant life has carried on just fine."

I very vaguely remember something from the Hellblazer comics about the Parliament being killed, and Swamp Thing refusing to allow plants to regrow in the place they died because he was tired of them messing him about and wanted to make a point. It could.. be that there's no problem because Euanthe and Pamela are doing the required part of the job. Euanthe was clear that she didn't think the Parliamentarians died, and I assume that she could feel that.

"So..?"

"So a head of state being kidnapped doesn't necessarily cripple the state, but they're probably going to know a lot of things you don't really want their kidnappers to know, plus kidnappers aren't usually particularly nice people."

"Okay, so what is he?"

"Empty!" … "Empty!" … "Empty!"

"Once upon a time, there was a man named Doctor Alec Holland. His life's work was the creation of a formula which would allow plants to grow in extremely adverse conditions. For that, he was repeatedly shot, doused in his own work, set on fire and then…"

Huh. That could work.

"'And then'..?"

"And then thrown into the swamp where he died. Then the semi-conscious magical world of plants copied his mind and created a new life form with that as its mind but with a body made of plant matter which it could control." I smile. "With me so far?"

"Why didn't they just use..? Him? If he was trying to help plants…"

"Because apparently that's not how it works, and I don't know anyone who wants to study a magical mechanism which involves burning someone to death. So he wandered around for a bit, survived John Constantine by being able to switch to new bodies due to being a magic energy based life form rather than an intelligent plant, killed the most evil man on the planet, married his niece, fought some other things and tried to make a life for himself." I sigh. "In theory, he should have been hit by the Anti-Life while the Parliament should have been at least a little insulated due to not being in the material universe. But it looks like something else happened to them."

Bleez frowns thoughtfully. "Does Thanagar have a Parliament of Trees?"

"Probably not. As I understand it, your thaumosphere is weaker than ours. You might have had a single weak plant god, but I imagine that the Seven Devils would have taken action to prevent a consciousness like that emerging."

"Can we borrow one of yours like we did Vulcan?"

Huh. Um.

"That might be possible, if your plant life is similar enough to ours for them to be compatible. I'm not sure they'd want to go, though. If we track them down, you're free to-"

"Empty!" … "Empty!" … "Full!"

"-ask."

The water in front of me erupts as Kara throws… A man-shaped mass into it.

"Found him!"

Ah. Well, that was simple enough. "Swamp Thing?"

The mass under the water moves slowly towards us, head breaking the surface-.

Hunched back, and a head that merges into the torso. Swamp Thing hasn't ever used a body that shape.

"Who am I talking to?"

Weakly yellow-glowing eyes take us in, what little emotion I can see in the face suggesting uncertainty.

"Can you understand me?"

The creature stops, focusing on me a little. "Yes. Around here they used to call me the Good Gumbo Man. When I was human… No. The human I was made from, he was called Alexander Olsen."

"Swamp Thing? The Parliament? What happened?"

"Ah yes. That. Nothing good, I'm afraid."

 

[Mr Zoat]

15th April 2013
10:26 GMT -5

"The oldest of us knew that the…" He unfocuses for a moment, raising his arms and growing leaves and garlands of vines. A human taking that posture would struggle to maintain it, but I suppose things are rather different for a tree.

He doesn't resume talking.

"Mister Gumbo Man?"

"Oh. Yes. I'm sorry. I've been a tree for so long that I've… Forgotten some things."

I glance at Donna, but she seems content to let me take the lead. "Like what?"

"How to be human. I've been a plant for longer than my memories tell me I was a man. Everyone I knew is long dead, now, feeding the roots. It feels natural to plant myself and watch the world. That is why Alec Holland was chosen. I struggle to move, but I can move slowly if I must."

Kara frowns. "Why did they pick you, then?"

"Speaking is something I remember where the rest of the Parliament has long forgotten. Choosing someone new on short notice would be too much of a risk."

I nod. "Not that many naturalists being burned to death." And… During that 'Sprout' mess, wasn't there someone random..? Bloke who got roped into it? "So where is Swamp Thing?" I frown. "And why aren't you going to Euanthe with this?"

"She is not one of us. She doesn't think like us. She does not share our responsibilities."

"But you don't work for a higher power. Do you?"

"Only the Green."

"Then aren't your responsibilities more.. self-appointed than anything?"

He stares at me blankly. "I suppose. But that doesn't mean that they're not important."

Literal jumped-up elementals. Marvellous. On the other hand, Swamp Thing has been nothing but helpful to me so far.

"And I don't know where Swamp Thing is. Before the Anti-Life spread across the Earth, the eldest of us called upon him to leave the physical world for a time. They were concerned that-."

"Wait a second." Donna holds up her right hand. "Are you saying that you knew that was going to happen?"

"I didn't. The eldest did. They dwell deeply within the roots of the world. Many things are known to-."

"And you didn't think about maybe telling the rest of us?"

"No. The affairs of meat are none of ours."

"And you thought that Swamp Thing was just going to abandon his wife?"

"It would have been better. He was powerless to protect anyone, and the creatures of the Grey nearly broke through."

"You're welcome, by the way."

"You helped them? Why?"

"No, I stopped them. I sent them back to their own realm."

"Oh." … "Thank you."

"So he couldn't cope with the Anti-Life, the fungoids attacked, and..?"

"He tried to flee, but he didn't arrive with us. We're not sure where he is."

"And the Parliament? Where are they?"

"Deep in the Green, repairing it and hiding it. The Anti-Life reached us, too."

I sigh. "They've already started work on a replacement, haven't they?"

Ah, that's new. I've never see a tree look sheepish before.

"Um."

"Is it called the Sprout? When we get Swamp Thing back, is the Parliament going to try and get him to eat it because they don't want two champions active at once? Again?"

Gumbo Man manages to frown in confusion. "Did one of the others get here first?"

"I read the script. Why are you even trying to get Swamp Thing back if you've already started on a replacement?"

His leaves waggle for a moment.

"Because we're vulnerable without him. It takes time to grow a new sprout. And because I like Swamp Thing, and he's not ready to move on from the material world yet."

"And the new Sprout?"

"The plant world is in constant conflict for water, soil and light. The sprout is just a bundle of green energy at the moment. Consuming it is perfectly natural. It may even make him stronger."

"That's up to him, though I doubt that he'll go for it. But you're sure that he vanished after the Anti-Life broadcast?"

"Yes."

"And you haven't heard from him since?"

"I have not. We have not."

"Did you see or feel anything that might let you know where he went?"

"No."

In the comics, Swamp Thing escaped being burned to death by the Sunderland Corporation while Lex Luthor's jammer prevented him from using floramancy by switching to a different 'frequency' and matching himself to alien plant life. If he's done that here, then we're going to need a serious magician to track him. Or we could just leave him; while it might be useful to have him around, it's not strictly essential.

Okay, it's not worth searching the galaxy, but if he's still in Sector 2814 then we should be able to find him. There are only so many planets with plant-like life.

"Do you at least know where he was when he left?"

"Oh. Yes."

"Can you take us there?"

He looks at me, and then down to where he's taken root.

Kara perks up. "No problem! I can pick up this whole-."

"Can you tell us where he was?"

"Yes. North of here. I will mark it out for you."

"In what-" His eyes dim and his tree-like body hardens. "-way." I sigh. "Kara, could you-?"

A blur as she flies away, and a blur as she flies back

"There's a really tall tree with really pretty flowers that wasn't there before."

"Then that's where we're going next."

 

[Mr Zoat]

15th April 2013
10:31 GMT -5

Huh.

Kara's eyes are unfocused, and I think that's because she's using her augmented vision to try and study the… Thing, we're looking at. Donna's taking a look at what is probably Swamp Thing's most recent body, which has fallen on its face after stepping off his… Throne? It's clearly a chair, and the complex network of underground roots and tubers suggest that it was built with far more deliberation than his usual structures. That's… That's a chemical power plant, effectively converting magic into electricity. If we can train up enough druids, that could be useful. Nothing geothermal… Maybe I should show him Mother of Mercy's design next time I speak to him?

And the headrest… Last time I spoke to him, he'd clearly incorporated elements of dominator computer design into his body. But this is actually an improvement on the design I gave him. And that's just the parts I can scan. The magic element might make it better still. I don't know if it's similar to actual dominator designs, but Alec Holland was a botanist, not a computer engineer. I'm honestly impressed that he came up with this, even with his improved processing speed.

And unlike his body, it's still alive.

We might need to plug Gumbo Man in.

Bleez just shakes her head. "What is it?"

"A plant-based supercomputer which he was using to increase his intelligence. I don't know why, and I don't know enough about biotechnology to know how big a deal that is."

Would dominators come after him over that? I know that Mr. Kharhi thought that they would come down hard on people creating knock-off versions of their technology, but… How would they even know about Swamp Thing using their computer? He…

I focus for a moment, scanning the world for any sign of Dominion technology or dominator biology. Nothing, but... But there are ways to dodge my scans, the dominators aren't stupid or too speciesist to adopt useful alien technology, and they're very advanced on their own. Dodging ring scans is something they would almost certainly be able to do on their own. And I remember a.. comic where they had a small research centre on Earth for a long time before Superman and Batman found it. And another where they had a base inside the moon and blew it up. They're good at sneaky-.

And they were interested in the metagene. And I think they'd be interested in seeing how much better than their current generation someone like Swamp Thing could make their computers.

"Bleez, does Thanagar have any particular relationship with the Dominion?"

"You mean the Girgurgian Dominion? I think-."

"No, the dominator Dominion." I create a construct image. "These people."

"I didn't know the name, but I think they tried buying Nth metal from us one time." She wing-shrugs. "But we don't sell to aliens. They didn't take that for an answer, so our manager told them that it needed special permission from the Thanagarian government so they should speak to them. I didn't hear anything after that. Are they dangerous?"

"To you, a bit. To us, quite a lot. They're ruled by a caste of evil scientists who'd think nothing of live vivisection to understand how Nth metal integrates into your body."

Bleez moves her eyes to Kara and then Donna. "And Earth has a way wider variety of things to study."

"Yes indeed we do. With the Thanagarian Empire, they'd probably just abduct a few dozen people and then leave you alone, because as well as being evil they're quite capable scientists. With Earth…" I nod. "Yeah. I'm not sure what they'd do if they found out what it's like here. We're too far away to be annexed, really."

Kara snaps back to the present situation. "And we'd beat them!"

"Kara, we beat the Sheeda and Apokolips. How is the Earth doing?"

She pouts. "Better than it would be if we'd lost."

I nod. I suppose that's true.

Donna shakes her head. "Before we assume that it's the dominators, who else could it be?"

"Doctor Jason Woodrue would probably like to nobble Swamp Thing, but he wouldn't leave this here. Not without using it. In theory, any sufficiently capable magic user could trap Swamp Thing, but it would be difficult. Swamp Thing might have just left the planet under his own power, or got stuck in the Grey, or dived too deeply into the Green to easily come out again."

Kara perks up. "Ooh! I know!"

"You know-?"

And she's gone.

And then she's back again, with the body of Gumbo Man in her arms, roots and soil dangling beneath him. But if-. No, from the way he's looking around it looks like he hadn't abandoned his body, he'd just gone to sleep. Either that or he's gone back to it, but given his startled expression that seems unlikely.

"Here you go!"

She lightly tosses him at Swamp Thing's chair, and… He doesn't fit. His hard bark-covered legs don't bend, and he's a little too big. The effect is like trying to put a toy from the wrong playset into the driving seat of a toy car.

"Hmm."

Kara drops down and takes hold of him, then tries to reposition him.

"Kara-."

"Nearly got it!"

She twists him a little to the left, then picks him up and sort of thumps him back down. And then she does it again. And again.

"Mister Gumbo Man, I think you-"

CRACK!

"-should-."

She hasn't-?

Phew. The chair's arms have given way, and in a blue blur Kara is back with vines to tie him in place. It's still not a great fit, but at least she isn't breaking his arms and legs off. I mean, he could easily grow replacements and probably doesn't have much feeling in them, but… Still.

Gumbo Man looks around at us, seemingly confused. "Why did you bring me here?"

Kara points to the headset. "We need someone to operate the plant computer chair, and you were closest!"

"Computer? I don't understand."

…

Right. He might predate electronics, in which case he'd think a 'computer' is a person who performs calculations.

"We think that Swamp Thing created a plant based device to make himself more intelligent. You're sitting in it, and should be able to connect with it. It might have a recording of what happened to him, and we'd appreciate it if you could try and use it."

"Oh. Alright."

His bark becomes malleable once again, and he flops into the seat. He looks up, and then grows his neck until his head is in line with the appropriate part of the seat back. Then vines extrude from the headrest and plug into his head.

"Oh. Oh."

"Mister Gumbo Man?"

"I… I hadn't thought of it like that. I-."

The vines retract and he rises to his feet, staggering forward on his newly flexible legs.

"That changes everything. I need to tell-."

He collapses onto Swamp Thing's body, light fading once more from his eyes.

 

[Mr Zoat]

7th December 2282
08:56 GMT

I didn't spend much time in London back on my original Earth. My first few times were with my maternal grandparents and sister, when we went from Westham to Leonard Stanley via London, which required getting off at the London Victoria station, travelling on the Underground to Paddington and then…

Leonard Stanley? No, Leonard Stanley didn't have a station. Gloucester? No, that doesn't… Sound quite right.

Point is, we didn't really do any site-seeing.

And then there were school trips to various museums, but again, those stayed inside the museums themselves. I… Do remember actually going to Buckingham Palace once… I don't remember why, and frankly the outside isn't that interesting. Didn't even have the Life Guards on duty that day, and I remember finding the police armed response units more interesting because they were actually guarding.

What was that trip… For?

Today, London is… It's not Shady Sands level of 'in good repair', and Shady Sands wasn't burdened with pre-War infrastructure. They could build new, and build things they knew how to maintain. I know that-. In Fallout Equestria: Project Horizons, there was a pony whose special talent was sewage systems. As a filly, she'd been understandably worried that she'd get a turd as a cutie mark. In the end, I think she got a faucet or something? And then in the first settlement where she and her team stayed for any length of time she built the first simple but functioning toilet that anyone there had seen in their lives. Probably saved a dozen ponies that year by reducing the instances excrement-related diseases, so say nothing of improving the smell.

I can see plumes of smoke where coal-fired industry has started up again. Most of the roads are clear, and the damage of two hundred years is being patched over. With cobblestones and bricks rather than tarmac due to the ongoing oil shortage-. Or rather, absence.

I look around to my travelling companions who are with me on the top deck of this nearly classical red bus. Given that it's December I'm glad that it's not one of the open-topped ones, though I'm a little curious where the fuel came from given that it doesn't appear to have a steam engine. Whale juice, perhaps?

"Hey, nephew-."

"Don't call me that."

"You never told me your first name."

"What's wrong with 'sergeant'?"

"Neither of us have a lot of other family. Who's going to call you by name if not me?"

"I don't believe that you've been able to have a genetic test done this quick."

I haven't, but psychic powers are a wonderful thing. And the thing is, a genetic test wouldn't be particularly helpful. Not enough samples from other family members to compare both of us to, and we don't have a particularly close genetic relationship anyway. But psychometry doesn't care about stuff like that.

"I don't believe that you're being this much of a baby about telling me your name. Worried I'm going to make a voodoo doll of you of something?"

"Fine. Its Peter."

I nod. "Thank you. So, Peter, what can you tell me about off-shore oil extraction?"

"What?"

"There are substantial deposits of oil under the North Sea, and near the Falkland Islands. I was wondering if they were expended. Given the war and all."

"How would we do that? It's under water."

I frown, looking at him directly. "Oil rig? Send a pipe and a drill down into the sea bed? It's not that complicated." He looks blank. "I'm... You don't..?" I shake my head, trying to get some sort of feedback. "Am I talking nonsense here?"

"I don't know. I'm not an engineer. It's not something we could do today, anyway." He frowns. "Is that something the Americans built?"

"Yes. They had oil rigs in the Gulf of Mexico and off the west coast."

If Britain never discovered North Sea Oil… I don't.. really know what that would do for our economy. Presumably… We were a bit worse off? We were still importing oil anyway… Maybe it undermined the Scottish independence movement if they knew for certain that they'd go bankrupt?

"How was France powering itself, before the Resource Wars?"

"Coal, gas and oil. Have you not been listening to anything I've been saying?"

Except… France used nuclear, back home. I remember because they put them all on the north coast so that if anything went wrong it would irradiate the south of England rather than France. Why didn't that happen here? I mean, I… Don't know where France got its nuclear fuel from. Maybe the differences in international relations made it impractical?

"I'm surprised that other countries didn't switch over to nuclear. Given how common it is in America. I mean, the basic principles were well understood, and with the oil crisis…"

"Don't American cars explode if you look at them funny?"

"Ah… It's not quite that easy. Yes, if you shot the engine after its been lying around for two hundred years, you can trigger a meltdown, but that is after two hundred years. When they were first built, they were a good deal more reliable."

He half-smiles. "Bloody good incentive to drive carefully."

I nod. It's true. I remember reading a newspaper article that pointed out that while modern cars protect their passengers and driver far better in the event of crashes than older models, the rate at which people have accidents actually increased. They couldn't reach a conclusion as to why, but the suggestion was that it was due to the fact that people felt safer in their cars and so were less careful.

Stick a contact-triggered nuke in the bonnet and people would drive exceedingly carefully.

I shake my head. "But I was thinking about power plants for generating electricity, not giving every individual vehicle a nuclear battery."

He raises his right hand and points to his face. "I'm not really the biggest fan of nuclear fuel."

"I though you got hit by a nuclear bomb?"

"What difference does it make?"

"A nuclear explosion is designed to be as deadly as possible, while a power plant is designed to be as safe as possible."

We drive past a team of builders pulling down a decayed building. Carefully, making sure to keep as many of the bricks as possible in one piece. Down a side street I see scaffolding around several buildings as they're put back into good order. Reminds me of the ongoing work in the Boneyard and New Vegas, both cities expanding now that the areas around them are safe and stable. Not 'expanding' beyond their pre-War boundaries of course. I doubt that there are enough people in the NCR to do that.

"What sort of contact do you have with Europe?"

"We have ships with radios just off the shore of most of their major ports. If they try sending a fleet against us again we'll know about it. It's hard, building centreline guns on wooden warships, but as long as our high seas fleets avoid their old beached warships they should be able to beat anything the Europeans have."

"I… Really meant in the sense of peaceful trading relations, but I… Suppose that answers my question."

This isn't the Great Britain of my time, dependant on food imports to feed its population. This Britain has been feeding itself for two hundred years, even if the yields were nothing like enough to feed the pre-War population. There isn't anything other countries make that we need. Plenty of things that might be nice to have, but nothing essential. And there's no peace with our neighbours, just a state during which active hostilities are impractical.

I'd rather civilisation rebuild peacefully, but…

It's not like I'd really miss France.

The bus comes to a stop at the checkpoint outside Buckingham Palace, a checkpoint that's operated by regular human soldiers I notice. Peter looks around.

"This is us, then. Let's go and meet Her Majesty."

 

[Mr Zoat]

15th April 2013
10:37 GMT -5

"Mister Mann?" Kara darts down and picks him up with her left hand while waving her right in front of his face. "Mister Mann? How many fingers am I holding up?"

No, he's not there any longer. "Donna, did you feel anything?"

"I felt him leave but I don't know where he went." She looks at me, clearly concerned. "What just happened?"

"Champions of the Green are magic-based intelligences. There's nothing stopping someone summoning or binding them, it's just that it's usually not worth the difficulty."

"Someone put a summoning spell on the chair?"

"That would be my guess." I hold a rune stone up to it. It's glowing, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything special. Of course it would glow in the presence of an innately magical-.

Kara drops Gumbo Man's husk and sits in the chair-.

"No!" / "Kara, don't do that!"

"I need to go after him!"

"Kara, you're not a plant elemental. That won't work. And even if it did, you'd be exactly as trapped as he is."

Or dead, because kryptonians can't live as disembodied souls any more than humans can.

"Huh?"

Donna flies over to her and pulls her out of the seat-. Then gets in-.

"Donna, what did we just-?"

"I'm not going to turn it on." She lays her hands on the interface unit. "I'm just going to see if I can feel… Anything."

Okay, John's barely functional but I think he'd probably feel enough of an obligation to Swamp Thing to make the… Effort. Was that patch of flowers there before?

No. Flowers appeared when 'Good Gumbo Man' left his body.

I float towards it.

Scan for other environmental changes.

Compliance.

I'm not scanning the whole of the world all of the time, but monitoring things within a couple of miles is the bare minimum for a competent Lantern. I see… A line of increased plant growth that wasn't there a moment ago, heading that way.

And I remember the comics, where when Swamp Thing returned to the material world and went to check in on Abby, he couldn't just appear wherever there were plants. Rather, he moved from patch of greenery to patch of greenery, causing a boost in plant growth as he went.

"I've got-" Donna floats up off the chair. "-no idea. I can't get anything, I'm sorry."

"Not to worry. I think we're going that way." I point in the direction of the newly grown plants. "And I wouldn't expect you to do the job of a specialist magician."

"That way?" She floats closer. "Why?"

I fly to the plant and hold out my rune stone. Glow, move it away, less glow. Good.

"That wasn't like that before."

Kara gasps in what I vainly hope is a sarcastic manner. "It wasn't. And that one-!"

And she's gone.

Donna stares after her. "Does she come with a clicker or something?"

"No." Breathe in, breath out. "No, she does not. Bleez, I suggest that you fly over the canopy and follow the orange glow."

She nods and flaps, shooting upwards… At a speed that is impressive for winged flight, but is basically nothing for Donna, much less Kara. I begin heading in the direction of the plant growths, because while Kara might already be there, wherever 'there' is, she might just as well have flown past it by the length of a continent because she just kept going after the trail ended.

There, a tower of grasses, there a bush in flower months early, there a tree entirely enveloped in vines. I slow to check each one with the rune stone and I get the same intensity of glow each time. At the same time I scan ahead, trying to see if there's any obvious ritual site or… Coven gathering? Not seeing anything, though my ring is picking out probable unnatural plant growths in areas where it wasn't maintaining constant awareness before. Looks good…

I transition a mile ahead, waving my rune stone at a pile of surprisingly fruity brambles-. Yes. Transition back to Donna and Bleez.

"I think we need to go faster. Mind if I tether you?"

Donna shakes her head and Bleez wing-shrugs. Okay then, tether and transition, check bush, move, check, move, check, move-.

And that's Kara, unconscious, and a large plant I don't recognise-. Ring?

Not on file.

I armour Donna and Bleez immediately, then tether Kara and pull her away from it. Back up everyone. Environmental shield and check vitals. She's… Breathing, slowly but easily. That and her heart rate suggests that she's asleep. Eyes… I can't open her eyes.

Darn super strong eyelids.

Brain activity can't read because kryptonian body tissues laugh at conduction, emotional networks can't read because someone's been practicing their Torquasm, magic...

I wave the rune stone at her and… Not a lot. Which suggests that this is basically normal if deep sleep. I know that in the comics Batman had kryptonite smelling salts but I also know that this Kara isn't bothered by local kryptonite and I haven't exactly made an effort to create a kind that can hurt her. I could block off the sun and wait for her to depower, but solar power makes kryptonians resistant to a lot of things that would otherwise flat out kill them, so that's out of the question until I know what this is.

Has she swallowed something? I can't open her mouth.

Darn super strong jaw muscles.

I can get into her nostrils though, and their interior…

Pollen. Not Earth-native. Doesn't look synthetic, but that's… That doesn't mean much. Most places just modify an existing-.

Close match found.

Kryptonian? A kryptonian spore? Records indicate that it had a soporific effect on animals, not that it knocked people out in a few seconds. Then again, it's a close match. Ring, analyse novel genetic sequences?

Minor changes modifying chemical processes relating to soil mineral extraction. No other significant changes detected.

But there are other changes?

Confirmed.

And I see them in my mind's eye, and… Yes, the residue of millions of years of 'good enough' evolution. That suggests that this is substantially natural change… Maybe from a colony or something?

Weird plant thing knocking people out?

I raise my left hand.

"Out you come, Gary."

 

[Mr Zoat]

15th April 2013
10:41 GMT -5

Gary 'falls' out of my ring, staggering a few steps as he reaches the ground. He looks up at me. I point at the plant thing. He looks at the plant thing.

"It doesn't look dead."

I focus, and his hunger grows.

He advances on it, his mouth distending. "But I'll soon fix that."

As he gets closer, a faint haze is visible-.

I pull everyone back a kilometre except Gary, who doesn't have any organic components and is literally incapable of sleeping.

Donna frowns. "Okay, what's happening?"

"Looks like knockout spores from the plant. Not sure what mechanism they're using; kryptonians are usually pretty hard to poison. Not sure how long they last or how dangerous they are. Could be that they're deadly with continual exposure-. Well, obviously they're deadly with continual exposure."

Donna nods but Bleez looks puzzled. "Are you sure? I thought you didn't recognise it."

"I don't, but humans need water at least once every three days or they die. Sleeping people don't drink." Hm. "There are plants in the universe that use things like that to enrich their soil."

Donna frowns in the direction of the plant thing as Gary gets to work. "Did Swamp Thing make that? Or whoever took him?"

"I'd lean towards the latter. It doesn't-." Hm. "Actually, it has a few points of commonality with his computer chair, but it's also quite different in other respects. It might actually have a common…"

Oh dear.

Alright, Dr. Woodrue might be able to create something like that based on data available on Earth. Maybe. And other Champions of the Green and probably a few druids. Dr. Isley could, though I don't think she would. Euanthe, again, might be capable but that isn't the sort of thing she does.

Those possibilities aside, this looks like it was made by someone familiar with Dominator computer systems. Which means either J, Alstair, or the Dominion itself. Dominators aren't known for using magic, but that might just be because it's hard to use in most places or that people just aren't recognising it to report it. Certainly they know about the Shadowlands…

Oh dear. Setting up a laboratory on a planet like Earth is exactly the sort of thing they'd do. And-.

Maybe I'm finally contracting apophenia from living in a superhero world for too long, but if they're interested in Shadow Champions… Collecting tissue samples from metahumans sounds like something they'd do as well-.

Donna has her right hand on my left shoulder and is shaking me.

"Yes?"

"You stopped talking and your armour covers your face."

"Oh. Sorry. I'm just having an attack of the paranoids and I'm wondering if we're being attacked by a Dominion research cell."

She thinks for a moment. "The thin yellow aliens with the teeth and the circles on their foreheads?"

"That's the ones."

She nods. "How dangerous?"

"I don't know. The Dominion isn't close to Earth or The Reach. I haven't investigated them in detail." I shrug. "Last time I blitzed one of their facilities it was easy enough, but it wasn't intended to be heavily fortified or disguised. I… Don't want to have to fight the entire Dominion."

"What are they likely to have?"

I shake my head. "Assuming that it is dominators, it could be anything from a small fleet to one scientist and a couple of bodyguards. And the fact that I've been scanning this system for dominators and Dominion technology and I haven't found anything suggests that… If it is them, they're doing something intelligent and hiding really well."

"Finished!"

Gary has partially merged with the plant. It's now covered in glowing orange veins while only his head, right arm and a small part of his torso are sticking out.

"Good work. Anything interesting?"

"There's a human in here. It's connected to them like I'm connected to it. Feeding on them as I feed on it." He frowns. "I don't usually feed on meat. Do you want me to try?"

"No." / "No!"

Did Donna really think I'd-? No, no, I'm sure she was just worried about him.

"Can you tell what it's doing with the human?"

"Nourishing the human. Growing in their brain."

Oh… Dear. I'd need an expert on parasitic growths to handle removing something like that, assuming that it can be removed. The sort of person who'd hook someone up to a killer plant probably wasn't all that worried about what it would do to them. Experts… Any of the Sivanas. Asking Thaddeus Senior would most likely result in the person in there getting dissected because 'ninety percent dead is basically dead, isn't it?', so it would have to be one of his children. Beautia… Should be free at the moment. Cranius might be able to help, though it's more likely he'd try to turn this person into a human/plant hybrid permanently rather than get it out of their brain.

I need to meet new people.

I don't know anyone with fungus magic other than Gary, and he has a bit of a problem comprehending human life. That-.

Alstair. I saw their fungoids the first time I visited. So either Hyathis can control fungus as well as normal plants, or she can command people who can. That's workable. I can get there in seconds, and back with help in… Minutes.

"Are they in danger of dying?"

"They don't feel like food."

She frowns and glances at me. "He's not good at mammal biology. And he doesn't have an education in thaumaturgy. Otherwise I'd have just told him to separate them."

Zatanna… That's an idea I'm not wincing about. She might be busy right now, but under the circumstances I'm sure that the others will understand. Ring, contact Zatanna.

Compliance.

"I'm calling Zatanna to see if-."

"Hey Paul."

"Good morning. Sorry for interrupting-."

I hear her sigh. "I'm on the Atlantis team, getting nowhere fast. What is it?"

"I've got a person with some sort of plant fungus.. thing plugged into them, and I'd like to remove it safely. Would you mind taking a look?"

"Sure! I could use a break. Can you pick me up?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

7th December 2282
09:32 GMT

"…as 'Your Majesty' the first time, but subsequently she should be addressed as 'ma'am'. Similarly, as you have been acknowledged as the New California Republic's ambassador, she will refer to you as 'Your Excellency' during the initial introduction, and as 'Mister Kr-'."

The Personal Secretary giving me the remedial etiquette lecture pauses in his rote spiel.

"I apologise if this is a personal question, but is 'Krono' really your name? I can well understand an agent-at-large using a nom de guerre, but this is an official meeting."

I find myself looking around the room. The palace itself is in fairly good repair, paper and paint replaced or being replaced where age had damaged it. The upholstery is worn in places but I can see where furniture had been added recently too. Some things… Well, we don't have any native natural cotton or silk production, but wool is plentiful and nylon shouldn't be that hard to put back into production. And if you can't keep the palace looking nice then your civilisation is in big trouble.

I return my attention to the Personal Secretary. "It's-. I had it legally changed. My original name was different, but I…" I waggle my right hand vaguely at the side of my head. "I can't say it anymore. Does Her Majesty read comics?"

"I do not believe so, but your meeting will be recorded for obvious reasons, and some of those who watch it will." He give me a look such as an indulgent dog owner might give an incontinent puppy. "Why on Earth did you select that for your new name?"

"I was trying to integrate into a tribal group and I didn't know their naming customs. I asked a small child what he thought was a good name, and… Here I am."

His brows raise by about half a centimetre. "My word."

I bow my head slightly. "Quite."

"Well. The Gentry won't mind and the citizenry most likely won't remember. So I think that's everything-. Ah. Except the dogs."

"Dogs? Oh, Queen Elizabeth the Second had a pack of corgis. Does Queen Elizabeth the Third maintain the tradition?"

"Yes, the Queen's dogs have been her companions for a… Long time. They also underwent the… Change, you understand?"

Ghoul corgis? Huh. I suppose… Really, it's more strange that there aren't ghouls of other species than that there are.

"Canis familiaris ardens?"

"Just so."

I nod. "Are there any behavioural quirks I should be aware of, or should I just treat them like normal dogs?"

"Without… Fur, they don't respond quite so well to being stroked, but they'll still sniff you and otherwise engage in typical dog behaviours."

"Alright." I nod. "I think I'm up to speed. Please let Her Majesty know that I await her pleasure."

He hesitates for a moment, reviewing me.

"I suppose it works for a trial run. We're a little out of practice at receiving foreign dignitaries."

He takes a deep breath, sighs, then turns and walks out of the room. I can track him telepathically if I have to, but I think it's best to let things play out without exotic effort. Instead, I turn to Peter.

"So, you're a sergeant."

He looks at me as if I just said something stupid. "Yes?"

"I was wondering how promotions work in the Life Guard, given that you're all two hundred year veterans. I mean, Lieutenant Roper is a lieutenant, and I assume that he's got the same level of experience that you do."

"Promotions fill gaps only. Honestly, at this point most of us could do the job of junior officers. And junior officers could probably do the work of senior officers. When we work with the Tommies-. With the regular army, you know, we get attached to headquarters so some child with a tenth of our experience at best doesn't try giving us orders."

"And recruitment?"

He shrugs. "We've had other Simons join up. People who weren't in the military before the Resource Wars. At the point there's not much difference. And a few who turned later. We weren't sure about them, but they did alright."

"Thanks, Sarge."

"Quiet in the ranks." He shakes his head. "But really, you've either got two hundred years of life experience or you haven't. I've been in charge of 'young people' before, but we just don't gel."

"Would you consider recruiting American Simons?"

"Why?" He frowns. "Don't they have better things to do?"

"Some do, but others… Have trouble dealing with their situation, mentally. And… In a lot of places they're not well regarded."

"Why?" He thinks for a moment. "Oh. Because America had more survivors. They don't need Simons for the pre-War skills like Britain does."

"Partially that, and partially because a far greater proportion have mental breakdowns. And I haven't seen a glowing one since I arrived, so I assume that you don't have those."

"What's that, then?"

"A glowing one is a Simon who's absorbed enough radioactive material that they glow green and irradiate anyone near them. It acts as a bit of a pick-me-up for other Simons but is pretty dangerous for everyone else."

He stares at me in puzzlement. "They glow.. green..? What-?"

The double doors at the end of the room open, and-.

"Ruff."

The first thing I see is the swarm of ghoul dogs trotting into the room. They're small animals and normally I wouldn't see them as threatening, but the lack of fur, peeling skin and the odd look of their ghoulified eyes makes them more disturbing than I thought they'd be. With human ghouls, you can usually tell from their behaviour whether they're compos mentis or not. But with animals?

My eyes pass over the two Life Guard leading the Queen's party. If she's the one keeping the realm together it makes sense that she'd need an escort at all times. I'm not sure how commonly available guns are here compared to back home, but that's only sensible. Then the Personal Secretary, holding out his right hand to indicate me to-.

A short ghoul woman, slightly stooped, wearing a blue jacket over a cream dress. Permed white hair sticks out slightly from underneath a blue hat. Her skin looks relatively healthy for a ghoul, missing nose notwithstanding, and there's a bit more of a spark in her eyes than in most ghouls I've seen. And those eyes narrow a little as Queen Elizabeth III takes me in in return.

I bow as I was instructed as she and her Personal Secretary approach.

"This is Ambassador Krono, ma'am. From California."

"A pleasure, Your Majesty."

"The pleasure is all mine, You Excellency."

Oh. I take her hand for a moment as protocol directs, but-.

"Is something the miss, young man?"

"No ma'am. Ah, for a moment I was-. Surprised, by how greatly you resemble your namesake, Queen Elizabeth the Second. You even sound like her."

She smiles, not an inherently pleasant visual display in a ghoul, but a psychologically reassuring one as it indicates that there's still a sense of self in there.

"I think that I shall take that as a great compliment." I can feel the corgiswarm pressing noses into my legs, but it's such a dog thing to do that it's reassuring as well. "I'm an admirer of my great grandmother."

I nod. "She was a great woman. I-. I mean no offence, but I honestly struggle to imagine the country without her."

"Oh? Did you know her well?"

"No, not at all. But I do know a few stories, if you're interested?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

7th December 2282
09:39 GMT

"…ashen-faced minister frantically apologises. Then the Queen leans forwards and says… 'I do hope it wasn't anyone important, dear'."

In front of me, her great granddaughter starts giggling. And I really hope that she's sufficiently entertained because I don't have that many Queen Elizabeth II stories and I've already done the tourist photography one and the photobomb one.

I take the opportunity to have a quick look inside her head, but… Great War era ghouls are never entirely mentally healthy-. Even compared to normal wastelanders. The human brain is simply designed to work within the confines of a small tight-knit hunter gatherer community, and taking it outside of that results in problems. Two hundred years of being in charge of a badly broken country following the violent deaths of her parents, aunt, uncle and cousins… That does damage. Similarly, the obvious damage to her face -particularly her nose- that comes with being a ghoul greets her in the mirror every morning. The human brain knows what a healthy face looks like.

"However did you find out?"

"Years later, after the minister in question left office, she told the world about it in an interview. She was still embarrassed, but she was grateful that the Queen had just made a joke of it."

And then there's the fact that she's been doing the same sort of thing for two hundred years. I'm not completely convinced that changing jobs every decade or so is the trick to remaining sane, but some range of stimuli would certainly be helpful. But that's not.. really something that I can help with. I'd be happy to set up a state visit to Texas or California, but she is actually needed here, overseeing the upper levels of the British government. She's a good deal more hands on than her great grandmother, but… She has to be. It's not a titular head of state usurping power from an elected body, it's the lynchpin using the power that's hers usually in theory to keep the nation functioning.

She glances at her Personal Secretary, who gives a small shrug.

"You wouldn't have any more stories about her, would you? I barely knew her, and I could only learn so much from my Uncle William's stories."

"Only one, really. One of the official duties of the royal family was entertaining foreign dignitaries. Queen Elizabeth the Second was particularly good at charming foreign heads of state, so the foreign office sometimes asked her to step in when they were out of ideas. So on one occasion they ended up with her, Prince Philip and a group of foreign aristocrats at Balmoral, and the Queen… Who must have been in her sixties or seventies at that point… She asks one of the younger members of their group if he'd like to go for a drive around the estate. Well, naturally he's honoured, so he says 'yes', assuming that she'll call over a chauffeur and conduct the tour herself."

"But she doesn't. Instead, she walks over to a Land Rover and gets into the driver's seat. He's a bit surprised by that, and looks around to see if anyone else is reacting to it, but no one is, so… Not wanting to look like a total bore, he gets into the passenger seat. She's the Queen, in her country on her estate. If she wants to drive herself, she can drive herself."

"At which point the Queen slams her foot on the accelerator and hares off down the road like a bat out of hell, and his face is like,-"

I grimace, eyes staring widely in front of me.

"-and she starts conducting the tour while looking at him and speaking in a calm and conversational tone while driving around at top speed because she learned to drive on those roads and has been driving on them for fifty years. She doesn't need to watch where she's going because she's memorised the whole thing, but he doesn't know that and so he's squeezing the armrests as tightly as he can, clearly terrified, but he can't quite bring himself to ask her to slow down. He endures the whole thing, not able to focus on anything she's saying, and when they get back to the manor he's left there, sitting in the seat and-"

I take the pose again, this time adding frantic panting.

"-trying to recover."

Queen Elizabeth III starts chuckling again. "And what did she say to him?"

I shake my head. "I'm afraid that I don't know. If I had to guess, she would probably have noticed that he was in a bit of a state and suggested that everyone give him a moment to pull himself together."

I can feel it as something stirs deep in her memories. It's a positive association, but so fleeting that I can't get a good look at it. I could dive in after it, but I'm not good at splitting my attention to do things like that while keeping up my end of a conversation.

"What country was he from?"

"Saudi Arabia, I think. The Queen got on well with their royal family due to their shared love of horses. That was the other reason he was surprised she was driving; in their country-"

Something's… Wrong. Their minds-. I don't know what-.

"-women weren't allowed to.. drive."

"Llleeeeeeeehhhhhh!"

The Queen's whole posture changes, hunching over, mouth distended and teeth bared! A woman who was chuckling merrily a moment ago has now-. Ghouls don't go feral that quickly! That's not how it works!

"EEEEeeeeeeeeee!" / "Rauw!" / "Har-rauw!"

And the corgis are looking decidedly less friendly, teeth bared and prepared to charge!

"Ah?"

I make momentary eye contact with the Personal Secretary as he shepherds the Life Guards out of the room and closes the.. doors.

Okay, my body armour isn't good enough to protect me from frenzied ghoul bites indefinitely. My inertia suppression field will help, but biting and dragging tends to drain the battery. And using it will show that I have it. Plus I don't.. seem to have triggered whatever it is that would make the Queen attack yet and the corgis are following her lead.

I reach out mentally for the Personal Secretary-.

"…mentioned the Saudis. I know. We might be able to reach them on long wave radio. … Well, we'll have to. This isn't an uppity newsagent. If the Californians can make aircraft-."

And I get the thought associated with the words. The events concerning the start of the Resource War traumatised the Queen, and when someone brings them up-. She's killed people before, and they cover it up for the good of the nation. The mental images-. She blanks the whole thing after it happens.

Okay, but those doors aren't that thick. I should be able to break through with telekinesis and brute FEV-augmented strength. She'll pursue me, and… What happens when they restrain-? They've lost guards doing that before, and it takes a long time for her to come around. Workable for me, but hardly ideal.

Right. Scan the corgis-. The corgis are just picking up the stress from their mistress. That, and they've learned that when this happens they're supposed to attack. The Queen is still waiting for the pounce trigger. I could grab her telekinetically, but that would probably trigger her to attack and the corgis will almost certainly notice. The Queen isn't feral, she's traumatised, which means that her current mental state isn't normal. Telepathic intrusion doesn't have the best success rate for curing mental illness but I should be able to switch her from one mental state to another, especially knowing what the trigger is. Reach out…

Agh, it's like she's having some sort of seizure! My own pulse and respiration rates start to increase in sympathy, and-. No, no, stop those pulses because something is detecting what I'm doing and sending attack signals. Quieten that part down because it seems to be where they're coming-.

Turn it back on because that nearly caused a stroke!

Ah…

Okay, that positive feeling I felt earlier, where is..? There, but forcing it is probably going to cause another stroke, so… Ah, auditory cortex connection is there…

"Of course, your great grandfather had a substantially cruder sense of humour." Attack impulse suppressed, keep trying to connect via the auditory cortex. "Once, when visiting some British students in China, he warned them that if they stayed too long they'd end up with slitty eyes."

A tiny pulse of recognition in the auditory cortex, connecting to memories and emotions-. There! Grab it, connect the positive feeling and push down on the feral impulses..!

"Oh." The Queen blinks, straightening up as the corgis look around in confusion. "I'm sorry, I seem to have lost-." She looks around. "Where have all the guards wandered off to?"

"I think they ate something that didn't agree with them. Probably be a queue for the toilets a mile long, poor chaps. So, um, look, I'd love to reminisce more about your great grandmother, but I am supposed to be on the job."

"Hm?" She hasn't quite come fully out of it, but… Mental nudge there. "Oh. Oh yes, I quite understand. It's all go, sometimes."

I nod. "I'll be happy to report to the President that Britain is recovering, but I imagine that he's going to be interested in trade: exchanges of technology or resources. So I'm going to need a list of things that Britain wants, and what if can offer in exchange."

"To be honest, we need all manner of things. As to what we can offer…" She frowns for a moment, then nods to herself. "Tell me, young man: do you know what a 'transistor' is?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

15th April 2013
10:53 GMT -5

"Nepo ylluferac dna ylefas, tuohtiw gniregnadne eht nam edisni!"

The plant construct peels back like… Like a facehugger egg, revealing the… Sleeping man within. The sleeping man inside with 'vines' plugged into his body at various points, eyes closed and body slumped forwards in a sitting position.

I nod. "Good work. Can you see how to remove the fungus?"

Her eyes are glowing faintly gold. "It's all connected. I think the system is designed to let them swap people in and out when… When the last one dies."

"Efficient. They wouldn't want to wait for a novel fungus to grow naturally."

She nods. "The vines in his skull have a switch… Wardhtiw!"

The vines at various points on his body twitch, then start to pull themselves out of his body. I wince and squint as the brain-vines pull out from his eyes, causing his eyelids to flap open slightly. They're only thin and his eyes are… Fine-. As fine as regular human eyes get. It's a little puzzling that they didn't just cut them out. Kara still hasn't woken up and anything that can do that to a kryptonian would keep a human down through traumatic maiming.

If I had to guess…

Either the insertion is automatic, relying on someone to trip over this thing…

"Zatanna, can you see any commands relating to subject acquisition?"

She looks at me askance. "That's a little cold."

"'Grabbing people' just sounds imprecise."

She doesn't seem entirely happy, but she points at it again.

"Wohs em lla ruoy sdnammoc!"

The glow in her eyes flashes for a moment.

"There's not a lot here. I think it needs to have people… Lowered into it."

"Not a modified carnivore, then. How does the command for hooking someone up work?"

She gives her head a small shake. "There's no decision-making ability. It's basically just 'implant-run-withdraw'."

"No monitoring of the subject? And it's not sending information to somewhere else?"

"No." A bigger shake. "Not that I can see. I've had a… Really.. strong reminder lately that I'm not an archmage. They… Whoever made this could have made it so I couldn't get past the security."

I briefly consider my records on Dominion security procedures.

"I don't think they'd let you get this far if that was the case. So… Any idea what this setup is for?"

"Could you..?" She points to the victim. "Pull him out? He's fully disconnected now."

I nod, sending out a flight aura and gently lifting him out. And then cleaning him up a little, because he'd clearly been in there a while and… Nature had taken its course. No significant health problems, brain… Appears to be dreaming, but undamaged.

"As far as I can tell, he's in good health."

Zatanna walks up to him.

"Wohs em tahw ti saw gnisu mih rof!"

This time her eyes flash green, and she-.

I catch her before she hits the ground. Purple healing ray-. Rays, and I play one over her and the other over the man who was trapped in the plant device.

"Zatanna?"

"Whoo." She blinks, her eyes focusing after a momentary delay. "Sorry, that-. That can happen if there's a lot of magic involved."

"So what was it?"

"You know that-" She straightens up, standing on her own feet. "-game you used to play, where the spaceships fly through Hell to go faster than light?"

"Yes?"

"Turns out it's not just Hell that works with. This thing uses people to make a portal through the Dream."

"A physical portal?" I'd considered that, but-.

"No, but it can transmit magic energy just fine. Swamp Thing, Gumbo Man… I don't think there was anyone else, but it was… A lot overwhelming."

"Can you track it?"

She gives me an arch look. "Did you hear me when I said that I'm not an archmage?"

"Can you tell if it stayed in the Dream, or came out somewhere?"

"Ah…" She closes her eyes for a moment. "I think it came out somewhere. But I've got no idea where… Aaaand I could be wrong."

Identifying the victim… Benjamin Stratham. Agricultural labourer and odd-job man. A couple of fines for littering but no significant criminal record. He should… Probably keep being monitored in case this has messed him up on a magical level, but with hospital occupancy and resourcing being what it is… Not that America ever had a lot of magically qualified physicians, but I don't have anywhere to put him.

"Thank you for your-."

"What?" She looks at me, surprised and a little irritated. "Hey, are you sending me back?"

"We need someone with magical skills to look after Mister Stratham and Kara. Donna doesn't have your precision and if Doctor Mist doesn't have something better to do with his time then he blooming well should. So it's you or Doctor Isley, and I think she might be even more traumatising for someone who just had plants symbiotically grafted to him."

She looks him over, and… Regretfully nods.

"Can I hand Kara over to you as w-?"

"-out of-" Kara suddenly sits up, head blurring as she takes in her environment… And wrecks the construct armour I had around her. "-there, mister! Um." She floats to her feet, looks at Mr. Stratham and then looks at me. "Did you just rescue-steal me?"

"Yes. Kara, you have microscopic vision. You shouldn't have flown into that sleep spore cloud."

"That doesn't mean I see everything. Darn it!"

She kicks a small stone, sending it flying into the sky at supersonic speed. Then she stills herself, sheepishly staring after it.

"Go and catch it before it hits som-" She goes with a blast of air. "-ething. So it looks like I'm keeping Kara, but can you take Mister Stratham?"

Zatanna nods. "Yeah, I'll make sure he's okay. Taolf." His unconscious body rises from the ground. "Zeta tube me back to Mountain?"

I create a tube, and… "Donna, it might be a good idea if you go with her."

"Why?"

"It's always a good idea to have someone super strong around a potential booby trap. And since the Green's other Champions couldn't find Swamp Thing, I'm probably heading to Mars next and you need air to breathe, and you're coming to the end of your work hours. Am I right?"

She sighs. "I do like air."

"I'll let you know how it went when we get-"

Kara appears in front of me, stone in hands and offering it to me with a winsome smile on her face.

"-back." I don't pat her on the head. "Kara, up for a trip to Mars?"

She thinks for a moment, then shakes her head. "That sounds a bit… Investigatey? I mean, I didn't really help with this and there's a tonne of things I could be doing instead."

Huh. That's a surprisingly sensible answer.

I nod. "Alright. How about I take you sight-seeing there once Earth is functioning again?" She nods, smiling, as I attach a tether to Bleez. "Then we'll see you when we see you."

 

[Mr Zoat]

7th December 2282
10:58 GMT

Across the table from me, the Private Secretary takes a moment to get his thoughts in order. I do him the courtesy of not reading them. No guards inside the room, I notice, but the doors have a surfeit.

I made sure to give Peter a disappointed glare.

"Look, you've-. Let's not beat around the bush. You've got me by the short and curlies. But-. Please. How? How did you do that?"

"I sat very still, then shared an anecdote about Prince Phillip. I make no promises that it would work again. Does she know?"

He shakes his head. "We could hardly tell her."

"You could. Mentioning the Saudis set her off. She blames them for the Resource Wars?"

"No, I don't think so. You were right about the royal family having good relations with the Saudi royal family. The alliances that were formed in the run up to the Resource Wars were… Byzantine, to put it mildly, but after the Americans became isolationist the Saudis needed a new best friend." He snorts, a distinctly unpleasant sound from someone with no nose. "But just because you're someone's best friend, it doesn't follow that you're a good friend. Their treachery… Or perhaps incompetence, it amounted to the same thing and at this point we'll likely never know for sure, it cost us the lives of King William and Prince Alfred. The Queen was very close to both of them. Now it seems, that whole… Period, that whole part of the world… Mentioning it…"

"Sends her feral."

He sucks in air through his teeth, then slowly lets it out. Then, he nods.

"Look, you did that whole etiquette briefing thing with me. Why not just say 'don't mention Saudi Arabia, she's very sensitive about it'?"

"Because we don't want it getting spread around. Why would I think that someone who by his own admission spent that whole period in cryogenic suspension and is working for the government of California would bring up Saudi Arabia of all places?"

"Because I was doing anecdotes about Queen Elizabeth the Second! Of course the Saudis were going to come up!"

"That doesn't follow!" He sags a little. "Or perhaps it does. I was born after she died, and I didn't study her life in any detail. I-." He bows his head. "I apologise."

"For your lack of comportment, or for leaving me in the room to be eaten?"

"Both, though more the former. I doubt that there's anything I could say or do to make up for the latter."

Hm. "She can't do public engagements. Given the collapse in the education system it's unlikely that anyone would mention anything that could set her off, but if they did and she went feral in public…"

"I know. And we can't tell her why she can't do them. If it wasn't for that we could have her visit towns and cities as we reintegrate them."

And they can't make use of normal counselling services because she goes feral the moment the issue gets raised. So… One of my telepathic specialists is… Essentially the only option. I'm not a specialist in that area -or any area, really- so while I could sort of muddle through it would be far from ideal.

The best cover I can think of is a proper trade mission. I know that Hayes will be interested in transistors, because while the factories he's had built in Dayglow can produce new vacuum tubes, making new micro vacuum tubes is still beyond the NCR. Their most advanced machinery has to be repaired using salvaged components which are becoming increasingly hard to source. Switching to transistors would increase their vulnerability to electromagnetic pulses, but in the core regions of the NCR and for civilian use, that wouldn't be much of a problem.

How to get them here? The Brotherhood has a few transportation dirigibles, but they're slow and not particularly resilient. Our zetan fighters are one-man craft, we don't have any high seas sailors… The most obvious route would be to negotiate passage on Mothership Zeta, which would be quick and safe for however many people we wanted to send.

I'll have to check in with the salvage team to see how far they've got on recovering parts from the wreck of the other Mothership and how far they've got in understanding Zeta's controls.

But if we're going to have to reveal-. No. No quite.

"Tell me: have you ever heard of a device called a mesmetron?"

"I can't say that I have."

"The American army developed them, during the food riots. They take the form of a gun, but when someone is hit by one, they become very calm and unusually suggestible for several minutes."

"Oh, that's remarkable. We could-."

"When it works properly."

"And when it doesn't?"

"Berserk rages or head explosions."

His face can't pale, but I imagine it's trying to. "Ah."

"But I have… NCR special forces occasionally use them for taking prisoners for interrogation. Sometimes they really don't want to talk, and constantly causing head explosions tends to reduce morale. If you fine tune them, you can guarantee getting the result you want. I could send a specialist over here as part of a trade mission or a permanent embassy, and you could have them on standby in case of… Incidents."

"At the risk of making Her Majesty's head explode-. How does that work? Surely the skull would contain things even if the brain was cooked?"

"If things go wrong, the skull becomes very brittle. It can't contain the vaporised high-pressure brain matter. Though under controlled circumstances, the chance of that happening becomes next to nothing."

"It's still a rather visceral picture that you paint."

"The next best I can do involves sending either a psychologist or a cybernetics specialist. Look, I doubt very much that the Queen is the only ardens afflicted in this way-."

"We executed the rest."

"Oh."

"And we've found that more conventional counselling is sufficient to prevent anyone else decaying in such a way."

I nod, wincing faintly. "Yes, the Archbishop said. I'm sorry, but I don't have any better ideas."

"Do you use it on… Californian ardens?"

"Not to my knowledge. The mesmetrons are relatively rare, and… Well, the ardens who've lost it lost it long enough ago that I doubt they can find it again, and the ones who have it don't need it. None of the NCR's enemies use ardens soldiers to any significant extent." I shrug. "I can ask for volunteers and ship them here so your people can observe the process, if that helps?"

"It would. I don't have the authority to make any decisions, but I have been assigned the duty of 'managing' Her Majesty's condition. It falls to me to review any possible treatments."

I nod. "I'll set something up when I get back. Will you handle the export permits for the transistors? We'll probably want to talk to the researchers who worked on them."

He nods. "I can certainly do that. And… Wool?"

"The NCR has been using cow and goat fur for softer clothing, and variously leathers for outerwear. We're starting to get some shipments of cotton, but with the collapse of transportation infrastructure and government, the old cotton farms rather died off. There would actually be a pretty decent market for softer fabric."

"There's no difficulty in exporting wool."

I nod. "Then I'll head back to California, and put together a full delegation. Thank you for receiving me."

 

[Mr Zoat]

15th April 2013
18:25 GMT -5

"Nothing at all?"

Ma'alefa'ak shrugs first with his left shoulder and then with his right. "My reserve and a handful of others like it contain all of the surface plant life on M'arzz. If any of us had seen an unexpected surge of growth it would have been reported."

He's right. With a planet of telepaths, it's not easy to keep anything a secret. Certainly, a group of aliens popping by would attract more than a little notice, and unless they were shielding their thoughts really well…

The Dominion probably has the technology to do that, but I'm not sure that they have the technology to avoid detection by the telekinetic spines built by Mother of Mercy and maintained by the locals. They're actually making an effort to accelerate their atmospheric restoration by grabbing asteroids and harvesting them for useful gasses. Might be worth keeping half an eye out for recruits...

For a moment I consider Ma'alefa'ak himself. He's completely devoted to the project, but… I don't think that his evil alter-ego is a concern. He doesn't want to go back to being that, and he's not really more vulnerable to mind control than anyone else. But whatever the Martian judicial system did to who he was to make him who he is now disrupted his connection to the orange light. I… Could fix it, but… I know that it's possible to store part of yourself in the orange light, because I did that to recover from my second death.

I just can't take the risk with him.

"And private gardens?"

"We don't have privacy in the way that humans do. Someone would have reacted."

I look out across his nature reserve. A lot of the systems he used to create enclosures the first time we came here have gone, and I can see… Five? Of the giant telekinetic spines that Mother of Mercy created erupting from the ground and rising up out of the thickening atmosphere. The main difference is that there are plants around the place, not just in neatly planted allotments but as weeds anywhere their seeds can find soil. Which is nice, but suggests that alien plant magic researchers now have a lot more places where they could work.

I turn back to him with a nod. "Do isolated caverns have the same setup?"

"Any that have people living in them do, yes. Since… M'gee's revelation, a lot of caverns which didn't have anyone living in them have been settled by new communities."

"By Whites?"

"Usually, though not necessarily. And… It's not always Whites who are resisting their third class citizen treatment. One of the new communities formed with a more formal caste structure, and enough Whites wanted to be a part of it to make it viable."

"Couldn't they just live in an existing city?"

"They felt that the uncertainty harmed the soul, and they wanted a tightly defined legal code setting out the rights and responsibilities of each caste. Not something that could change." He considers me for a moment. "I expect that you're disappointed-."

"No, no… It would be unrealistic to expect everyone to embrace the anti-colourist movement in the way I'd like them too. And… I generally think that the problem with caste systems is that there's usually not much of a mechanism to enforce the rules against the upper castes. Maybe it works with telepathy."

"Usually. Sometimes it makes it worse."

"We have a saying on Earth: you can lead a horse to water but you can't make it drink. We gave them the option. If they're happy living like that then they're happy."

The Mars situation is chaotic, but… Mostly peaceful and mostly stable. The Manhunters are very visibly limiting themselves to light-touch policing of demonstrations and… Prelate J'emm is making a point of spending time in places mostly frequented by Whites. And because of telepathy, they know why he's there so it doesn't come off as condescending, and because he's not elected it doesn't look like electioneering. I'm reasonably hopeful about the whole situation and since the surface is now habitable, anyone who isn't happy has the space to move away and do their own thing.

"How are the priesthood handling things?"

"I have no idea. I haven't even seen one for years. There have been no announcements that have reached me, and I have been getting a few more visitors than I used to." He thinks for a moment. "You want to check with them?"

"Belts and braces. They're the only people who can do magic on Mars, and as far as I can tell your people have a tighter grip on who is allowed to learn magic than we do on Earth. If they haven't noticed anything odd then there probably isn't anything odd happening." I give the reservation a quick scan. All appears to be in good order. "Is there anything you need here?"

"No, I'm more than content. Thank you. And please thank Mother of Mercy for me when you see her."

I nod. "Will do. Thank you for your help."

I

step out, appearing

next to Bleez's ship as she takes in the closest spine. We're high enough up here that she needs to be inside the ship, and if her insurance company wasn't happy with her exposing herself to Earth's environment then I imagine that Mars would give them a stroke.

"Like it?"

"It's so… Alien. Your species are… Thanagarians without wings and your architecture is like Thanagarian architecture but flattened. This is… Completely other."

"You should have seen the Lantern who built it. That was a… Hopeful time. If you ask, the locals could probably share their memories of it."

"What's their music like?"

"I… Have no idea, actually. I only really come here on business, and M'gann's always been more interested in human music. If you're interested, I'm heading to Mel'dilo'rn now. Do you want to come along, or keep taking the place in?"

"I… How safe is it?"

"Not safe against an attack by an entire Lantern Corps. I'd bet on a couple of Manhunters or a Sorcerer Priest against an average quality Lantern."

"And was he..? 'Average quality'?"

"I don't know. I'd have to see him myself, and I imagine that Sinestro is intelligent enough to move him away from Sector Two Six Eight Two. I can go and have a look once this case is over, if you like?"

"I'm not in any hurry to get back." Her ship tilts forwards, beginning to descend in a spiral pattern around the spine. "I'll come with you. What's the dress code?"

"Well, they're telepathic shapeshifters, so there isn't one. Do you have any training in resisting telepathic intrusion?"

"Only in noticing that it's happening and getting away. How deep do they go?"

"Usually, not that deep, but they'll be getting everything on the surface pretty much all the time. If you focus on what you're interested in then it shouldn't be a problem; they're used to aliens and young children not being able to regulate what they think."

"I'm going to write a song about this… But I've got no idea what it's going to sound like."

"Then you can surprise us both."

 

[Mr Zoat]

14th June 2014
03:23 GMT

"I-I can't believe this." Next to me, Slipstream twitches. It's a little disconcerting to watch, as rather than twitching her muscles it's like she's starting to transform and then reversing it after about half a second. It makes her look like she's starting to fall apart. I'd be worried if not for the intense hope and joy I'm feeling through our bond. "I didn't think they'd ever-. I didn't think I'd ever-."

I look around, actually having to look down in order to make sure that I'm not missing something. I'm used to being taller than most humans around me, but being taller than most transformers is still new.

No, no one else around.

My 'Pull' body responds appropriately, the mind impulse unit turning my neural activity into giant robot motion. I haven't asked if Shockwave just happened to have a transtector body laying around or if he built it from scratch, but from the way Kyansa has described every piece of open-chassis chirurgery Shockwave has done as 'wicked cool' I'm not sure I'd like the answer either way.

"Why not? They said that they would."

I've been acting like 'Pull' is someone distinct from me, as Decepticons aren't exactly friendly to other species and we're still recruiting for our eventual exploration team. Having someone big and strong around encourages other Decepticons to not try leaning on Slipstream, while having 'him' be a bit mentally slow prevents him seeming threatening in other situations. My new body is painted in dull brown and transforms into a heavy goods transport vehicle: not bright enough or unusual enough to draw the eye, but visible enough not to surprise someone in the dark. I'm supposed to be able to fit in with a crowd, and it seems to have worked so far.

Slipstream glances down towards my feet, remembers that I'm not that short any more and then looks up at Pull's face.

"Because you know the ratio! They hardly ever resurrect Decepticons. Particularly late-War Decepticons."

Something which was generating a degree of ill-feeling, though most Decepticons weren't really expecting their friends back in any case and the few who got them back were too grudgingly grateful to make a fuss about it. It wasn't until the newly returned Emirate Xeon pointed out the huge advantage that the Autobots were getting and the potential threat it posed that there was any sort of organised outrage. Relations between the two returning factions were getting dicey until Megatron came back from… Wherever he went, and negotiated with the Autobot Provisional Council for better access.

"Sometimes knowing the right people helps."

Because while Prime's old team don't like us, they do recognise that we're not a threat to the truce. And if they're going to resurrect anyone on the Decepticon side-

"I can't believe they even found her!"

-it would be someone with a good social support network away from Cybertron. The Autobots have been carrying out recovery operations all over Cybertron and near-Cybertron space so I don't know exactly where they found Nova Storm's mortal remains or how those remains managed to avoid being infected with Dark Energon and turned into a Terrorcon, but I'm certainly not going to complain-

My auditory sensors pick up the sound of someone trudging nearby.

-about it.

Slipstream hears it too and immediately goes into hunt mode. Not a lot of transformers live this far from the newly built synthetic energon refineries, which isn't an issue for us as we mostly use energon shipped in from Earth. It's mostly just anti-social loners and-.

Ahead of me, Slipstream turns a corner with weapons drawn, then immediately lowers them.

"Hey Munition. You get beat up again?"

I trudge after her, careful to dim my eyes as I get a clear view of one of the local vagrants. Munition is a dull grey tank transformer who's been dossing in the area. I'm not exactly sure what he did before or during the war, but these days he spends his time preaching his particular variant of the pre-War Decepticon creed to anyone with the patience to put up with him. And with Decepticons increasingly rallying around Xeon and Megatron, that's increasingly fewer people.

This time he got off lightly. A few of his panels are dented, but there doesn't appear to be any serious damage.

"I did. But the Truth will not be silenced! We should not be defined by our brands any more than we should be by our alt-modes! Xeon rallies people with an outdated fear, which only-"

Slipstream waves a flask of energon in front of his face.

"-serves to separate us from those who-!" He focuses on what's in front of him. "Oh. Thank you."

"It's not that I don't agree, Munition." Slipstream takes a relaxed posture as Munition takes a gulp from the flask before connecting it to the emergency damage port on his badly dented right arm. That feeds it directly to his local self-repair system, a modification that a lot of heavy infantry Decepticons have made. "It's that if you keep going then Xeon is going to have someone kill you."

"Oh, I'm not worth his time. Besides." He looks down at where his battered copy of Towards Peace is chained to his waist. "I imagine that a recording of his limb-wrenchers shooting through that would do more damage than a street preacher no one listens to."

I rotate my head slightly, checking the street behind him for pursuit. "I listen."

Which mostly involves standing there and staring at anyone who looks like they're about to move from political disputation to 'political disputation'. Decepticons might have settled their disagreements peacefully once upon a time, but that was a long time ago. It's interesting, but without Slipstream to explain things I miss the context for about ninety percent of it.

Slipstream looks up and me, rolling her eyes at 'Pull's' foolishness. Munition detaches the flask and passes it back to her before checking the movement in his damaged arm. Looks alright to my inexpert eyes, and I can see the panelling start straightening out as his repair system gets to work.

"Thank you. I think I should spend some time working on my delivery. Where are you two going?"

Slipstream considers, but… While I think Munition is pretty trustworthy, I didn't spend a million years at war. "Recruiting, hopefully. An old friend I got separated from. I think she'll like Earth."

Munition nods. "I'm glad to hear it. Give her my regards."

"I-." Slipstream's arm pings with the 'ready' signal, and she immediately sends the 'acknowledge' reply.

Phh-tchhwuhwuhwah.

The ground bridge opens and Slipstream sprints towards it, despite knowing that they're not going to close it on her. I hesitate, watching her go for a moment and then striding after her just as she disappears on the far side. Pull's body isn't really made for running, and while I can transform like this it feels really weird. Besides, it's not like it takes long. Maybe twenty seconds pass and then I appear in the workshop where Ratchet is finishing reassembling Nova Storm's body to the best of his ability while Slipstream lurks at his side, staring at the face of the friend she thought she'd never see again. There are a lot of rooms like this, because while they can supply The Last Autobot with energon he has a throughput limit and the more power he has to spend on repairs during the resurrection process the fewer transformers he can resurrect.

This place has to have its own energon refinery to keep him going anyway. And a ground bridge jammer to stop people bridging inside and demanding or begging that their friend or team mate be brought back first. Or that they be allowed to watch for theological reasons. Or attacking to try and stop it.

Ratchet straightens up, clearly not entirely satisfied but without anything else to really do. Slipstream gets closer, standing next to Nova Storm's left shoulder. Aside from Nova Storm's lighter colour and a slight difference in the structure of her face, they look pretty much identical.

"She was quite badly damaged when we recovered her. I couldn't access her t-cog's records, so I used my record of your internal structures as a guide to her layout."

"Nova."

The ground bridge collapses behind me and… Ah, Ratchet knows who I am. "What will she remember?"

"Going by past experience, almost everything. The actual events of her death should be a little blurry, but she might remember it once she gets over the shock. I suggest several weeks of rest at the very least." He turns his head to look at the heavy doors at one end of the room. "He should-."

The colossal doors slam open at the far end of the room and The Last Autobot walks through, right hand raised towards Nova Storm's recumbent body. And in that moment I suddenly gain a new appreciation of exactly how big he is. When you're human, all transformers tower over you so he didn't really stand out; I didn't really notice that most of the transformers I know are about as tall as his head. He doesn't look around as yellow energy crackles around his right hand, then flows over Nova Storm's body. He keeps walking as she suddenly sits up, eyes focusing and hands grabbing at her chest as Slipstream hugs her. And then he lowers his hand as he exits through the door at the far end of the room, into a room where for a moment I see another bier, another medical and another hopeful transformer waiting for the return of the departed.

After assuring herself that her torso is in one piece, Nova Storm moves her hands to return Slipstream's hug. "Hey, Slippy. What in the Pit just happened?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

14th June 2014
08:28 GMT +5:30

Phh-tchhwuhwuhwah.

Slipstream leads Nova Storm through the space bridge portal and into our quarters on Earth, left arm wrapped around her torso. Nova Storm isn't pulling back exactly, but she's obviously far from comfortable about what's happening. The sudden sunlight from the windows around the room in particular has her blinking as her eyes try to adjust from Cybertron's darkness to Earth's daytime. Her next blink has her trying to make sense of the relatively luxurious decorations of our home. That surprises her enough to make her stop walking.

"Slippy… Are you working for an Emirate?"

Slipstream stops a moment after her team mate does, left arm sliding from Nova Storm's back to her right arm as she turns to face her. "Hah! No. We own this place."

I walk in behind them, moving my Pull body towards its docking gantry.

"You and..?" She looks at me as I slot myself in and make sure that the diagnostic systems are properly connected. "Pull, was it?"

I nod. "Yes."

Nova Storm frowns in confusion. "How?"

Slipstream shrugs, giving her team mate's arm a tug to get her moving. "It's a long story, and it'll sound better in an oil bath. Come on!"

Nova Storm smiles faintly as she allows herself to be pulled to the rim of the transformer-scale Jacuzzi. Only then does Slipstream let go of her arm and drop down to sit on the rim before sliding in.

Nova Storm looks around nervously. "Are you sure-?"

"Yes!"

Nova Storm looks me over. "The big guy not joining us?"

"Don't make me pull you in." Slipstream manoeuvres over to the far side of the tub before taking a sitting position, her head only just over the top of the liquid. "I thought you were dead, Nova. Permanently dead."

Nova Storm pats her torso again. "Yeah, I… Kinda did, too. I-." She turns away from me and makes eye contact with the softly-glaring Slipstream. "Okay."

She awkwardly drops to a crouch before shifting her legs around and sliding into the oil, causing waves to slop across the tub and splash over Slipstream's face. Slipstream smiles, raising her left hand into the air and wiping the worst of it off. "See?"

"Uh…" Nova Storm remains standing for a moment, then slowly lowers herself in. "This is… Nice?"

"Come on, Stormy, is that the best you can-?"

"Why aren't I dead, Slipstream? I… I remember the attack on Moon Base One. I remember the anti-air emplacements opening fire, I-." She raises her right arm. "I got torn apart. My right arm came off, light was… Leaking out of my spark-"

Oh.

"-case! You don't come back from that!"

I can feel her distress. Not as.. intensely as I can feel Slipstream's emotions, but their bond is still functioning even after… However long it's been. And that indirectly connects her to me. I wonder if she's noticed? Or maybe she just assumed it would and my feedback feels off to her?

"I felt-!"

Slipstream leans forwards and lays her right hand on Nova Storm's torso. "That big blue and gold guy? He's called The Last Autobot. He pulled your spark out of the All-Spark and put it back in your body."

"So I… Did die?"

Slipstream shrugs. "What is death but another transformation?"

"Oh." Nova Storm finally sits down, still sounding a little stunned. "Just as long as I didn't imagine it."

"Imagine what?"

"The glowing… I was glowing, and there was.. glowing all around me, and a… Presence. I was.. part of something. Something… I made… Complete? Something… Huge. I don't… Know…"

Slipstream looks past Nova Storm to me, and I feel her worry that she's doing something wrong. I don't know if there's a right way to handle something like this, but I'll always help whenever I can.

"The All-Spark. The spark of Primus, of which all transformers possess a small fragment." Nova Storm turns her head my way. "It's where transformers go when they die."

"Oh." Nova Storm slumps slightly in the oil bath. "I thought maybe I imagined it."

"Hey." Slipstream wades across the pool and takes Nova Storm's hands in her own. "I know it's a shock, but you're alive, right? And we're here for you."

Nova Storm nods slowly. "Yeah. Ah. Just y-? Ah, just the two of you?"

"Right now? Yeah. I don't know if we'll get any of the others back. I doubt it, but then I didn't think I'd get you back."

Nova Storm nods again. "The medic was an Autobot, and the Last Autobot… I guess we lost, then."

"It was really more of a draw..?" Slipstream shrugs. "Optimus Prime died killing Unicron, and Megatron gave up. We found a way to make new energon so we don't need to starve any more… There wasn't any more reason to fight, so the War just sort of… Stopped happening."

"Oh. Well that's… That's good." Nova Storm looks around at the room again. "How did you afford this?"

Slipstream nods at me. "Like Pull says: 'one man's trash is another man's treasure'. The local species are really primitive compared to us, but there's lots of them and they're easy to keep fuelled."

"What's this planet called?"

"The locals call it 'Planet Earth', but it's really more of a layer of rock that built up over… Something else."

"Something else?"

"Let's-." Slipstream looks awkward. "Let's not worry about that right now. It's not a problem anyway. So, ah, this is-."

"Pull." Nova Storm nods. "You.. said. I guess he's your new team mate..?"

"Conjunx Endura, actually."

"Oh." Nova Storm turns back towards me, looking at me more closely. "H.. uh. I suppose with the.. War over… I though I felt something."

"But there's something else you should know about him."

"He's an Autobot? Is that why I'm-."

Tsche-chuuuu!

Pull's helmet snaps open as my plugs retract, letting me see daylight with my own eyes as I pull myself free. A bit sore as usual, but nothing a few minutes moving around-

"I think he needs the oil bath more if he's got organic parasites."

-won't fix. I clamber out onto Pull's right shoulder and wave to Nova Storm.

"Allow me to re-introduce myself. I'm Slipstream's husband." I half-turn and point to the implant in the back of my neck. "These let me mimic a normal transformer bond, and that-" I nod towards the transtector body. "-lets me mimic being a transformer."

"Oh." Nova Storm is staring, clearly unclear how to respond. "How… Interesting."

"It gets better." Slipstream's voice comes from the back of the gantry as her purple-skinned and grey-suited proxy unit walks out of its maintenance module to lean against my back. "I had a new sub-module made so I can interact on their scale. You would not believe the things this body can feel."

I would. Shockwave knows his business.

By Primus does Shockwave know his business.

Nova Storm is staring blankly at us. "So the little one… Lives in the big guy's head… And is made of meat."

Slipstream blinks. "Yes?"

"That sounds like something Shockwave would make."

"Uhhh…" Slipstream's main head glances at me with a wince. "Funny you should say that..?"

 

[Mr Zoat]

15th April 2013
23:55 GMT

S'yrra leads us towards Mel'dilo'rn's main shrine, having intercepted us just out of the main hangar. We've also got an escort of four Manhunters, and from the way their eyes keep lighting up I'm going to assume that they're the reason the various Martians of various colours who keep floating towards us immediately back off.

"Is..? That one..?" Bleez points to a Martian at the back of one of the huddles. "Trying to make wings?"

"It's possible. Between J'onn J'aarkn's memories, J'onn J'onzz's reports and M'gann's visits, Martians are more curious about the rest of the universe than they used to be."

S'yrra glances back, her face in Martian-neutral. **And the presence in our skies of a new planet which enabled us to reclaim the surface of our world may have had something to do with it.**

I shrug. "I suppose. I've yet to see a Martian fat enough to shapeshift into a planet."

**[Polite amusement] Some have assumed a scaled down version of Mother of Mercy's form, but her internal structure is difficult to replicate.**

"So, no civil war?"

**No.** She appears to consider what to say for a moment. **In normal times, what the Prelate has done to ensure that would see him stripped of his position and sent to a hermitage, but in times such as these no one knows what the correct course of action is.**

I smile. "In doubt, freedom."

**What do you mean?**

"When the 'proper' course of action has already been decided, you get in trouble for not going along with it. Even if you had a better idea. But if you're in a new situation where there is no established way to act, the uncertainty is enough to stop anyone stopping you." I shrug. "Well, that's one of the meanings."

**And what is the other?**

"If you are certain of the right thing to do, the only thing stopping you doing it is cowardice. If you don't know, you aren't obliged to do anything in particular."

She stops flying for a moment, causing the Manhunters to spread out around us.

**Which meaning did you have in mind for the Prelate?**

"Both, really. Though the first one applies to the Assembly more than Prelate J'emm. Ah, anything I need to bear in mind when meeting a Martian priest?"

**Be polite…** Glowing eyes consider me for a moment. **Be as polite as you can manage.**

She starts flying again, the entrance to the temple just ahead of us and… A Red Martian wearing a rune-inscribed stole standing on the steps. The Martian crowds who had been following us at a distance fall back, apparently unwilling to approach. Curious.

S'yrra lands first, and… There isn't really anything in the way of body language, but I feel the edge of a transmission of reverence and respect. The Red priest lays one hand on her head, one on each shoulder and another on her chest-. Four arms by default? That's a little… Interesting. The gesture is clearly a benediction of some kind, but… I don't know. Martian culture is… Alien, to me.

S'yrra pulls back, and the priest turns to me. I guess that's my cue? I float closer, generating a couple of construct arms to better match my host.

"Do you prefer spoken communication, or-" **-do you prefer telepathy?**

The priest appears to squirm slightly, runes on their stole shimmering weakly. Then their mouth and throat change shape slightly. "Spoken is better."

"Right, short version: our-."

"What happened to Earth? It felt like the Anti-Life Equation spoke to the world's soul."

"Because that's basically what happened. A mob boss made a deal with Darkseid, got a fragment of the Anti-Life and built machines to broadcast it across the planet. It took us a month to get a good enough grip of the… Life Equation, I suppose you'd call it, to expunge it. Sorry for any spill-over, but we've been busy fixing… Everything, since then."

"You have studied the Life Equation?"

I nod. "Yes. Bit of an odd head space to get into, but… Ah… Revivifying. Anyway, the reason I'm here is that two of our plant elementals are missing and appear to have been transmitted through the Dream to somewhere. Given how thaumatic fields work, Mars is the obvious place-."

**Nowaitstop.** The priest raises their arms in an awkward warding gesture. **You have seen the Life Equation?**

"Well, I don't know exactly what you mean by that phrase, but probably."

**You mastered it in a month.**

"Sort of. Look, we're trying not to spread that sort of thing around for security reasons. Can I just ask my question?"

"No. The great undermind that links all life, and you gained the ability to channel it within a month, while exposed to its antithesis."

This… Sounds like something I need to ask M'gann about. Because I have no idea why this priest is so excited.

"It is-."

I raise my right hand. "I'm sorry, but my standing orders from the Controllers do not allow me to discuss that issue further. But if you're really interested you could either try talking to the Guardians of the-" Ugh. "-Universe, or travelling to Earth to get a closer look."

I get the impression that the priest is very far from satisfied.

"What is your question?"

"Two powerful plant elementals were recently abducted from Earth, transported through the Dream to somewhere. I don't think they're on Earth, and Mars is the only other significantly thaumically active planet in the system. The farmers on the surface haven't noticed any unusual patterns of plant growth, but I wanted to check whether or not you'd detected anything unusual."

"A plant elemental from Earth would not be compatible-."

I shake my head. "It turns out that they can change their… Frequency? To switch over to other plant analogues."

"Please wait."

The priest touches the stole with two hands, while the other two make a series of arcane gestures. A few moments pass, then:

"No. No such intrusion has been detected by any of our watchers. Unless they have found Z'onn Z'orr, they are not on M'arzz."

"What's that?"

"The lost keep of Karmang the Good, the first sorcerer among Martians."

"Is it a place that actually existed at one point, or is it just a legend?"

"We do not have good records from those times. I believe it is a literal place, but I could not convince a disinterested person with evidence. I cannot think of a reason why Karmang would keep your elementals if he had them. He has no need of such things."

"Okay, then-."

Actually… There's one more place that should be easily accessible through the Dream.

"Ah, thank you for your time. Would you like me to transport you to Earth?"

"No. I must… Contemplate this discussion." The priest considers me for a moment. "I might normally perform a benediction now, but to one who has touched the essence of life, that feels shallow. Go, and be as the life web would have you be."

 

[Mr Zoat]

16th April 2013
00:23 GMT -5

"O-kay." I turn to look at Bleez's ship as we pull out of the upper level of the Martian atmosphere. "I… Think it's probably best if I escort you back to Earth now. Did you-?"

"What? Why? I can't stop now!"

"Hah! No, you see, you can, which is something I should probably have done years ago."

"Huh?"

I snort and shake my head, though I doubt that she can see that from inside the ship. "Sometimes-. I got training in how to use this-. My ring because I wanted to be able to protect myself. Everything else has been mission creep."

There's silence for a moment.

"Mission creep?"

"Oh, do thanagarians not have that? It's when-."

"No, I know what mission creep is. It's when you deploy soldiers to protect your embassy, and then you slowly expand their mission without ever formally admitting that you're conquering the place."

"That's… No. That's Salami Slicing. Mission creep is the mirror of that, when you genuinely don't mean to do it but do it anyway because each step made sense at the time and then you end up in a situation you never meant to get into."

"Didn't you start the biggest war in the galaxy?"

"I… I'm not aware of any bigger wars… Ah. And I don't exactly regret it, but at no point did I sit down and think: 'okay, how would I go about making a really big war'." I shrug inside my armour. "Things just sort of happened. And partly that was because as an Orange Lantern I need-."

"BWAAHAHAHGGhUUUUUUUUGahgahAAAH!"

I wait patiently for Bleez to stop having a hysterical cackling fit. It turns out that thanagarians have a fairly impressive lung capacity.

"Okay. Okay. Ah-hah-hah-hah. Ugh. Okay. Uh."

"My point is that where I'm about to go is either-."

"Where-? A-heh. Where is it?"

"Do you know what a Star Conqueror is?"

"Someone who's really good at conquering stars?"

"No. In fact, ironically, most of them ended up getting thrown into stars by the Green Lantern Corps."

"I didn't think they… Did that."

"They don't if there's any half-way reasonable alternative. The Guardians determined that there wasn't."

"What did they do?"

"Parasitised entire civilisations, latching into their faces and controlling their brains. And that was just the small ones. The larger ones coordinated the little ones and the largest… The largest were quite a bit bigger than a thanagarian command carrier, and would be able to tear one apart with telekinesis or mind control the crew into doing it for them."

"There's… One in this system, isn't there?"

"There was. It hid on the outskirts of the system for millennia and accreted so much ice and dust that we thought it was a dwarf planet. It got woken up recently and died almost immediately."

"What killed it? You?"

"I'm still not really sure. I think it starved to death."

"What did it eat? People?"

"Dreams."

"Oh. So you think it's eating Swamp Thing and Gumbo Man."

"No, it-. It died. I watched it die, watched as its desires faded away completely. But… Something that big takes a while to die, and not everything about us is purely physical. It would have had a soul of some sort, and… And I never performed the proper funeral rites. There might be something left. I don't know. I wanted to research it but then… A lot of things happened… I don't know what could have happened to make it do anything with plant elementals, but as I said, I don't understand why it did anything. Or I could be completely mistaken and we're just going to fly around a giant corpse for a couple of hours."

"What could it..? Do?"

"As long as you don't go to sleep, it shouldn't be able to do anything. And I have a confidence of about forty percent in that statement actually bearing out and that's why I think you should go back to Earth. Or stay here."

"I… I think I should come."

"W-hy?"

"I can't drop out right at the end!"

"In point of fact, you can."

"No, I can't. And not just because I'd sound stupid if I tried telling anyone the story and then I had to tell them I didn't see the end. You just told me that there's a super dangerous alien species that no thanagarian has ever seen before."

"I think Hawkman and Hawkwoman saw the smaller ones."

"But I haven't seen their report. And my… Handlers, are going to want to hear about this from me."

"And you'll get in trouble if you don't make personal observations."

"Yeah. I don't think they're super-happy about me coming here after I saw that guy from Sinestro's Corps anyway, and…"

And… Asking for political asylum on Earth wouldn't help, because the Thanagarian government would retaliate against Havania. Probably not doing anything crazy, but I imagine that they would find themselves quartering an unusually large number of soldiers, or Vulcan would get relocated, or something along those lines.

"Alright, but if anything untoward happens I expect you to make best speed for Earth."

"That's what I planned on doing anyway. Ah, not that I want to leave you to fight a giant dead-but-dreaming star monster thing, but this ship doesn't have any weapons and this space suit is not combat rated."

"Alright, setting course for Pluto. Did you learn anything about Martian music?"

"Oh yeah! They don't really have instruments, but they can shapeshift their bodies to make just about any noise they want! They actually use sound more for music than speaking because of their telepathy. I wanna come back here later and try watching a concert!"

What a lovely, non-violent and socially productive use for an unusual ability.

…

It'll never catch on.

"You can come back at any time you like. For now, we need to visit a creature from the darkest nightmares."

"Yeah. There's got to be an album in this."

 

[Mr Zoat]

16th June 2014
05:13 GMT +5:30

Clng, clng, clng…

I wake up, momentarily surprised by the still form of Slipstream's avatar lying half on and half off the right side of my body, her right arm across my chest and her faux-hair fins flattening themselves against my side. A moment to feel through our bond as my wakefulness begins to stir her alertness as her unconsciousness fills me with lassitude. Another moment and my eyes adjust to the gloom of our bedroom enough that I can see Slipstream's main body sitting next to our bed in robot mode, eyes closed.

I know that noise.

I try recovering my right arm, prompting Slipstream to squirm against me and become more aware of her environment. I don't know if Shockwave is just this good or if he put time studying humans for our benefit, but if it wasn't for the obviously unnatural colouration she could pass as human. She even breathes and has a pulse when there's absolutely no practical benefit to it, and apparently the system keeps going in her sleep.

One of her fins pops up as she turns her head to look up at me. A glance up shows that she's turned both of her heads.

"Whaaat?" / "Whaaat?"

And she's still too dopey to separate the two threads of her consciousness.

"She's up again."

Little Slipstream squirms a little more, this time… Deliberately pressing her chest into my side.

"So?" / "Uh-h."

Big Slipstream's brain module is still transforming to accept… 'Novel' stimuli, while Little Stripstream-. Little Slipstream's neural systems were designed to not be affected by her main self's confusion when it comes to instinctively mimicking human behaviour.

"So while I don't know how transformers react to extreme stress, I do know how humans react. And she's showing a lot of warning signs."

Little Slipstream is.. rubbing herself against me while Big Slipstream's right hand has drifted to her upper chassis. Which is armoured metal with no increased sensitivity at all relative to her other armour panels. Ghost sensation. Feedback from her avatar. I don't think she's quite as awake as I thought she was. It's actually… Possible that only one of her is fully awake.

Robotics is a fascinating subject.

"Go back to sleep." I half-slide half-twist out from under her, my face passing by hers and kissing her lips as she moues disappointedly. "I'll be back shortly."

"Mmm, she can come too."

…

I suppose that settles that question. Slipstream has rather gotten into 'human bonding', and… I suppose it's only natural that she'd start thinking about Nova Storm in those terms as well. Even if that wouldn't work because Nova Storm isn't configured to use an avatar and wouldn't trust Shockwave to do the work even if she was interested in participating, which given her somewhat uncertain reaction to me I'm not sure that she is.

And if Slipstream tries 'bonding' with her giant robot body, Nova Storm will mostly just be confused.

I get my feet on the floor and stand up, Little Slipstream falling face-first into the hole I leave in the bedding. I'm not exactly sure what her sense of smell is like, if only because she can't really describe it, so I've got no idea if she likes the smell of me or just doesn't notice it. I pick up a robe from the floor and wrap it around me, because while India is much too warm for sleeping in pyjamas I don't want to wander around naked.

I walk towards Big Slipstream, passing under her right leg and patting the featureless armour panel that makes up her crotch with my left hand. Her eyes come open again and she makes a faint hissing noise as if she were sucking in air through her teeth, thighs twitching as tries to process the tactile input. Interesting that sensation carries over like that, and… Now I'm wondering if this whole situation is giving her T-cog ideas.

Ducking under her left leg I head for the small door, exiting into the main hallway and following Nova Storm's silhouette. She's standing on the veranda, leaning a little carefully on the transformer-scale railing to watch the sunrise. Not something that she'd have seen often on Cybertron. While it did occasionally enter a star system and so have a star shine on its surface from relative close range, Cybertron never orbited anything and didn't rotate.

"Huh."

"I'm a little surprised that you're interested in this sort of thing."

She glances around and down as I approach, frowning faintly. "Oh."

"Sorry, Slipstream's still asleep." She looks away with a sigh. "Sunrises?"

She stares up at it, her posture relaxed as I come alongside her and start walking up the human scale gantry. "I never saw a star this close before."

"Then where does your name come from?"

"It comes from wanting one better than 'Static Charge Labourer Seven'." She makes a snorting noise. "One through twelve, all… Changed it, to something more exciting. And I'm probably the only one left."

"Do you want to talk about them?"

"No. Why? They were just like me. Exactly like me. It would be like talking about myself."

"Because they were an important part of your-" I reach the upper parapet and lean against the top of the railing myself, facing her. "-formative years."

"No. I just want to-. Be-. Now. I'm alive, Slippy's alive and… And we're not starving or being shot or electrocuted, and everything's good." She raises her right hand up to her face. "I don't know why I can't…"

I edge slowly closer to her, making sure not to startle her and giving her time to move away. "We humans have wars, too. Nothing like the scale of the Great War, but we don't live as long as you do anyway. It's a matter of proportion."

She sniffs. "I guess it's nice that aliens aren't any smarter than we are."

"We found that taking humans away from a combat zone and thrusting them into a peaceful civilian area is actually a really bad idea. Their brain is still prepared for combat, they're constantly on edge waiting for an attack that isn't coming, they take cover or start looking for a weapon if there's a loud noise…" I shrug. "I don't know if anyone's ever looked into post traumatic stress disorder in transformers. It could be that you don't get it. But I have been keeping tabs on your rest cycles, and you… Haven't."

Her heads doesn't turn away from the sunrise, but her eyes lock onto me. I've seen Slipstream's eyes do that, and it's usually right before she shoots something.

"You haven't had peace for a long time, and you need time to transition back to that… Heck, did you actually live through any time where you weren't a slave or a soldier?"

I hear the screech of twisting metal as her right hand clenches through the railing. For a moment she doesn't seem to notice, then she jerks her head around and stares at the mess she's made. Then she staggers back a step, dropping the twisted metal in her hand to the ground.

She stares down at it for a moment, then snorts weakly, shaking her head. "Hasn't Slippy told you?"

"She told me about her life." I nod. "But she's never really wanted to talk about her old team mates. It was painful, for obvious reasons. She missed.. all of you so much that she was desperate enough to try bonding with me. She didn't just shut down due to lack of fuel."

"I should be happy." She raises her head to look at me. "I should be happy-. This is-. I wanted to believe, you know? I wanted to think that Megatron-. That we could win, and everything would be fine." She shakes her head. "But I didn't. People died and died but what else was there? And then I wake up, and I'm here, and I couldn't ever hope that it would ever have been that good and I've been this close-" She raises her right hand, thumb and forefinger a few centimetres apart. "-to shooting my way through a wall because I thought there was something hiding in the shadows."

"I'm just impressed that you didn't."

"Didn't want to-. Give away our position."

"Nova Storm, you're not the only one who feels like this." I walk to the edge of the ripped area and try reaching out towards her, but she's too far away and I can't jump down from here to pat her foot. "I want to help. Slipstream wants to help. And if we can't, we can find people who can. You'll get better."

Her arms flop to her sides.

"I hope so."

 

[Mr Zoat]

16th April 2013
02:43 GMT -5

"This ship doesn't have a head, you know."

For a moment I'm frowning before I remember that 'head' in this context means 'toilet'.

"Ah, if you require one, my ring has a waste management facility."

"No, it's just-. We're going so slow, you know? You told me there was a giant super-monster and then we start crawling across the system like we're a pre-F.T.L. cargo tug."

"Yes, because I don't know what sort of detection equipment they might have set up."

Though I can obviously narrow it down to things that I can't detect. I do full active scans of the system a couple of times a day and I haven't detected anything, and that's ignoring things that I would pick up by default the moment they happened. Normally that would suggest they were limited to passive monitoring, or… Putting monitoring equipment physically on our satellites and using a bleed fracture pulse system..?

Would I..?

No, no, that would actually work, and I can't check for it now because that might alert whoever this is that I'm onto them.

I'll mention it to Batman when I get back.

"What are you afraid of a dead giant starfish detecting?"

"I'm afraid of the starfish detecting anything because we got very lucky when it broke out, and if it can still detect things then either it wasn't as dead as I thought it was or it has somehow become undead and I didn't notice."

"What's 'undead'?"

Huh-? … Oh, right. 99% of the universe doesn't have undead. Amazing what a narrow perspective you get…

"That's where a thing-. An organic being loses all vitality but keeps going anyway, usually by using magic. At a basic level there are spells to pull someone's soul back to the material world as a ghost, or animate a corpse in a controlled way. At the top end you get things like liches who bind their soul to an object and animate their own corpse, or vampires who sustain their existence by leaching vital energies from living things."

"Does Earth have those?"

"Vampires? Yes. It can be passed like a blood-borne infection, so it's actually quite hard to eliminate them completely. Though the ones who last any length of time tend to be intelligent enough to moderate their feeding and avoid reproducing too much. Liches…" I smile inside my armour. "Not any more."

But speaking of the Mother Star, we're only a light minute away. I asked Bleez to stick to passive sensors, but while Thanagarian sensors are good, they're not power ring-good.

Give me a better look.

Compliance.

And there it is. A giant starfish, one eye… On the far side, from our current angle of approach. Instead, we get a nice view of its vestigial mouth and… The lines of orifices from which it deployed the smaller types of star conqueror. I see a few… Tears and craters, presumably from where the rocky remains of the plutonian crust crashed back into it. No ships or structure and no signs of life.

Or… Unlife.

"Seems to be more or less the same as I left it."

I'd take a look with empathic vision, but Kent Nelson showed me how easy that was to detect for a magic user back when I was first starting out. And everything I've learned about magic since has confirmed that. My soul should be more strongly anchored to my body than Swamp Thing's was, but that's not something I feel like testing.

"Has that just been floating in your system?"

"Yes. For longer than my species has, actually."

Okay, as far as passive sensors go, my rune stone… We're a long way away, but in a thaumically inert environment…

I pick the stone out of an equipment pouch and hold it out.

Ah, I think that's a response, but I suppose that with my tattoos I'm fairly thaumically active. Oh well.

Heh. Part of me wants to just jump in and scan at full intensity, on the assumption that my fully accelerated decision-making processes are going to be faster than anything I could encounter. Stealth is all very well and good, but it's difficult to sneak up on something in space. Even something simple like infrared means that I'm having to have my rings absorb my heat, though the files Dox gave me seemed to indicate that some very sophisticated species sometimes forget about simple things at critical junctures; someone once nearly killed one of his father's avatars with a clay-covered explosive fired from a trebuchet.

But I don't want to risk Death Number Three, especially not knowing where my last clone ended up. Which means that a full visual inspection is the.. next…

"Is that thing turning around?"

Either that, or there's a surprisingly prescient black hole around and I didn't detect a change in local gravity fields.

"Nth metal isolates you from telepathic effects, right?"

"Up to a point!"

Yeah, I don't think my telepath baffles are rated to stop something like that, either. To say nothing of its telekinesis, though it's possible that it can't focus on something as small as me.

How long would it take me to generate enough neural chaff to affect-? Hah, no. The very structure of its decentralised neural network would make that… Impractical, particularly when its telekinesis could destroy the construct fairly instinctively so scrambling its thought processes wouldn't do much.

Does the fact it's moving mean that it's spotted us?

Ah…

How is it moving? It'll be a few seconds until I can passively detect heat from a thruster. The only way to easily detect telekinesis would be to monitor it's brain. Thanks to our rapprochement with the Green Lantern Corps I do know what a Mother Star's brain looks like when it uses its various abilities, but that still requires active sensors or something implanted into its flesh.

One enterprising Green Lantern managed that with microbots, once. Exactly once.

Gas thrusters? In theory it could harvest ice and turn it into gas, but I'm reasonably confident that someone would have noticed that by now if it was sending smaller star conquerors outside of itself. No, by the time I would see it moving I'd see the plume as well, that's-.

It's… Side-on to me now, and… That's not the right shape. The faintly scaled upper surface leading to the raised section containing the eye is…

It's..? Missing? And there's..? Some sort of plant-machinery? I'm seeing vines and… Glass? And tendrils of some sort and I can't tell whether they're plant vines or animal tissue. It doesn't look like anything that J or Alstair would make, or like what little I know of Dominion plant technology. And it's almost like I'm… Not seeing parts of it. I can see vines that are clearly part of a complex structure start and stop without rhyme or reason. I'd guess that they're moving out of phase or something, but confirming that would require very active monitoring-.

"What is-? What is it?"

"I have not the slightest idea. But I think it's too late to get away."

 

[Mr Zoat]

16th April 2013
02:47 GMT -5

"Is it looking at us?"

"It doesn't appear to have any eyes, so my guess would be 'no'. However, I stress that is just a guess."

"Is it coming this way?"

"Not at the moment. It's focused on turning around."

"Is… That where Swamp Thing went?"

"I really hope so, because if there are two things like that around here then I'm giving up and moving to Tamaran."

"Hah." … "So, what does it want?"

"Well, Mother Stars usually want to spread Star Conquerors to as many intelligent beings as possible for both their value as labourers and the improved intelligence they bring to the Star Conqueror collective. I also got the impression that the minds of the people being puppeted are added to a weird sort of dream realm inside the consciousness of the Mother Star, but that is based on a fleeting impression that I got from that one as it died."

"So is.. that a liche..?"

"Based on its appearance, I think what we're looking at is a parasite using the corpse as a host. I'm not familiar with this life form at all- " I upload an image to Maltus tagged for Hinon's attention and marked with the text 'what is this thing?'. "-but if we go with normal parasite lifecycles, it's going to reproduce and dump its young somewhere with a lot of potential hosts."

"Isn't that the same as a normal.. Mother Star..?"

"If we're really lucky, we're looking at a Star Conqueror parasite that can only infect them." I take another look at the… Thing which is now almost completely facing us. "And it's just looking at…" Quick check, considering gravity fields and orbital pathways. "Earth, directly, because it wants to infest the handful of Star Conquerors we still have."

"Um..?"

"Yes, I'm not feeling-"

Target in motion.

"-lucky. Ah… Well, that growth does look sort of plant-like, and we're looking for two elementals, so… The second most likely thing it might be parasitizing is plant elementals and we've got lots of them on Earth. Ah. And since I'm not detecting gravity manipulation I'm going to assume that it's not using gravity manipulation to fly, which means that an object that big going to Earth -even if it doesn't try and land, which isn't a certainty- would result in atmosphere loss, messed up tides and… A whole bunch of volcanic eruptions as the crust gets stressed. Aaaaand we might lose all our greenery and be left with an uninhabitable planet, depending on how its ability works. Orange Lantern to Justice League."

"Hey, Paul."

"Green Arrow, we have a large problem. Sending images."

"Ah. What is that?"

"Don't know. Which means that the Controllers probably don't know and the Guardians haven't put it on any database they've decided to share. Check with Guy or Jordan."

"I'll get right on that. Can you stop it?"

"I don't even know how it started. I'm going to start prodding now."

"Poking weird sea creatures is what killed Steve Irwin."

"I will remember that comment next time you face down a giant exotic alien. Orange Lantern out. Okay, Bleez?"

"You want to get closer, right?"

"Yes. Ah. And you've got a choice between coming with me or leaving the system, and I'm afraid that you've got to make it now."

"Ah… No offence..?"

I nod. "It's fine. Go."

Her ship wallows around, its manoeuvring systems nothing like as good as its primary drive. Then she's accelerating away, FTL drive engaging a moment

//

a moment-. What?

Bleez's ship flies towards the thing from the point in space where her F.T.L. burst ended, but-.

She wasn't aiming that way; her FTL system can only make her move in the direction of travel. And she's getting dangerously close to-

"AH!"

Tendrils pass by her rapidly braking ship on either side, threads of… Glass? Spinning between them, binding the ship and forming a.. ball around it? Parts of the ship start doing the same vanishing-and-reappearing thing as parts of the creature-

-and then I'm there, reality stabiliser construct on my back and x-ionised blades slicing at the… Stuff?

Ring, analysis?

Unable to comply.

And sticking construct armour around myself and gosh does this thing look bigger close up, because while I don't really expect construct armour to do anything I'd feel stupid if I didn't try.

Situation?

Okay, the phasing? It's not actually phasing because I can detect and block phasing, but that's what it looks like. The phasing effect appears to be reduced in an area around me but not completely stopped. That probably means that the stabiliser is interfering with part of the process rather than stopping the end result. Which means that it can still do-

Some sort of… Dissection laboratory shimmers in to being around us, techno-organic probe arms reaching for-

I see gaps in the structure, holes through which I can see what surrounded us a moment ago. Not subspace, but what?

-both me and Bleez's ship. X-ionised blades swing out to counter them, slicing just under the blade heads and separating them from their tendrils. Follow up swings start chopping the arms into thin slices-.

The walls of the dissection chamber pull… Away, twisting and shimmering and then reappearing, whole and intact, arms reaching out once more! Slice again-.

This time the arms I try and attack do the pull away-shimmer-return thing as I swing at them, returning to the attack a moment later.

Yes, that's about what I expected. But the glass stuff imprisoning Bleez's ship doesn't appear able to pull off that trick and I'm nearly through. One more cut-.

Bleez's ship metaphorically rockets free, darting around anything that look like it's reaching for her and trying to-.

"Stay close to the surface! If you pull away it can target you from a wider area."

Her ship immediately dips down, heading for a coral-like area that doesn't appear that active. I-.

The dissection chamber folds back into unreality once more, replaced by glass-bearing vines that are reaching for me-.

I head after Bleez, desperately trying to make sense of what I just saw.

 

[Mr Zoat]

16th April 2013
02:50 GMT -5

"Bleez, why did you come b-?"

"I didn't! I set course back to Mars! And then I was just back here!"

Huh. Unusual, but possible. There are ways to interfere with faster than light travel of course, that's what interdiction fields do. But doing what this… Thing appeared to do and just move someone travelling faster than light from one place to another… When the target's ship has an Nth metal hull which blocks a lot of exotic techniques…

I… Actually don't know how to do that. I mean, technically it could be done with sufficiently strong gravity but that would also do a lot of other stuff and almost certainly pancake the ship.

Three… Metre-wide glass balls with.. circuitry-like etchings on their surfaces, strange machinery inside and frantically waggling flagellum behind them crest a rise and surge towards-.

My railgun is slightly faster than Bleez's plasma pulse turret, left and right glass orbs shattering and melting, remains reduced to aimless mass. An electrical discharge from the third… In space, somehow, fails to penetrate my construct barrier and cuts out as my construct tendrils grapple it.

"Alright, one chance. Explain what the hell is going on here or I assimilate you and absorb the knowledge directly."

Bleez has her turret trained on it. "Is that intelligent?"

"I don't know, but I like to make the offer." I scan the remains of the other two, not really understanding what I'm seeing. Perhaps Dox can do something with it. "Three, two-."

"We work to make the Great-Mother whole."

That certainly sounded intelligent.

"And what does that involve?"

"Converting dead-parts into Great-Mother-parts. Repairs and sutures."

"Does your species have a name?"

"The Inside."

"Inside what?"

"Inside. Where we are made. Where we function in service to Great-Mother, that she and her daughters may live and breed. Inside which is not The Great-Black-Outside-That-Is-Everything."

"Is your mother the mother star?"

"No."

"Alright, are the vines part of your mother?"

"No. Added. Unwanted. Strange engrammatic programs changing Great-Mother. We try to make repairs, but are we repairing as she was or as she may become?"

"Were the three of you attacking us?"

"We would use you as parts to make repairs."

"Even though we're people?"

"Great-Mother is all. We must make repairs."

"Is Great-Mother this whole place?"

"Yes. But some parts are truer to Great-Mother than others."

"Describe Great-Mother."

"Great-Mother defines the Inside. Beyond Great-Mother is The Great-Black-Outside-That-Is-Everything."

"Does Great-Mother have defined physical characteristics?"

"The form of Great-Mother is malleable. Some systems are constants, but all can change."

"Why is Great-Mother here?"

"Aliens come to Great-Mother. My brothers and anti-body security drones destroy them. But then there came aliens that we could not destroy. We were blind to them. I do not know why. We sought them ferociously but only made targets of one another. They did something to Great-Mother and then the changes came. To us. To her. To Inside and Outside."

"Paul… What does any of that mean?"

"I'm not completely sure."

I've been thinking that a lot today.

"What do the aliens want Great-Mother to do?"

"To become something new for them."

"They brought her here?"

"She brought them here."

"Because they forced her to?"

"They altered Great-Mother and she brought them and us here. This is where she must be because they made it so."

"Do you know who these aliens are?"

"No."

"Would you recognise them if you saw them again?"

"My analytic equipment is designed to sustain Great-Mother, not study aliens of Outside."

So no, because he's task-specialised.

"Can you take us either to the aliens or to… Great-Mother's core intelligence?"

"No. I flashed my memories of both locations the moment I was captured by you."

…

Yeah, okay. Reasonably clever. But fortunately for me, the remains of his brothers are reasonably intact. Reading the brain of a corpse would require someone with a very specific skill set, but with a techno-organic brain and with a worked example already thoroughly scanned…

Bingo.

"Do you get attacked, flying around here?"

"No. I am part of the system. The aliens no longer delude us into attacking each other."

Might not work, but…

I roughly replicate the structure of the Ball Brothers' exterior, the strange glass-like substance and those circuits that my rings can decipher, and cover my armour in it before coating the hull of Bleez's ship in the same stuff. It won't fool a general intelligence, but hopefully any automated systems won't know the difference.

"Bleez, we're going to say 'hello' to Great Mother, and hopefully the people in control. Follow me closely, and stay alert."

 

[Mr Zoat]

22nd June 2014
14:00 GMT +5:30

"Ladies and gentlemechs. Thank you for coming."

The giant robots cautiously examining each other in the giant briefing room turn their attention to where Slipstream stands on the stage. Then they realise that she's not talking and move their gaze to me, the tiny organic standing on the platform next to her.

"And for those of you who haven't visited before, welcome to Earth."

I tap a button and generate a hologram of my head to make things a little easier for them, prompting Heatseeker to grin, then tap Flywheels on their shoulder.

"Hey, check out how tiny that thing is!"

"The reason why we asked you here is simple: we are currently standing on a thin crust of rock spread over the recumbent body of Unicron. It's filled with dark energon-fuelled mechanimals and the local intelligent species -hello!- are worried about what happens if they ever get out."

Flywheels twitches, then slaps themselves.

"And why should you care? Because there's quite a lot of energon on this planet and the locals are happy to mine it for you. They're paying a bounty for just about anything involving Unicron; for mapping his interior, recovering useful technology-"

Axlegrease… Flexes her tools. Their placement seems almost random across her body, but they're clearly all plumbed in.

"-or just killing anything you find."

Heatseeker frowns, then takes a half step away and turns to his other side to ask if his other neighbour has noticed how tiny I am. Unfortunately for him, his other neighbour is the recently resurrected and decidedly unamused Dreadwing, who scowls and motions towards me with his head.

"More to the point, I imagine that you all have reasons to not want to be on Cyberton at the moment."

Dreadwing nods. Finding out what happened to his brother, then having Megatron execute him for trying to kill the one responsible… There are several good reasons why Ratchet was wiling to recommend him for resurrection. With Megatron inching his way back into a position of authority, Dreadwing has no desire to be on the same planet any longer.

"To be clear: this is a private enterprise apart from the Decepticon hierarchy that you're used to. You don't have to work here. If you work here for a while and later decide to leave, that's fine: you can leave at the end of the current mission."

Axlegrease shrugs. With transformer corpses across Cybertron being brought in so they can be destroyed if they were infected with dark energon or resurrected if they weren't, salvage options are running low for the first time since the war started. She doesn't really have anywhere else to go to get what she wants.

"And because this is a private enterprise, you get paid." I press another button and show a price list, finally getting Heatseeker's attention. "Here's a list of bounties we've already been offered. The total bounties accrued on a mission will be split evenly between all participants."

"I don't wanna share with him." / "Well, I don't wanna share with you."

The group… Stares at Flywheels for a moment. As a self-propelled gun/jet fighter Duocon, he's noticeably bigger than everyone else here, and it's more than a little unsettling to hear robots that size start arguing with themselves. We invited them because Shockwave asked us to, feeling… If not actually guilty, then at least accepting that their mental state is his fault. And naturally, not getting help from Shockwave is one of the few things both of them agree on. According to Shockwave, Flywheels and Battletrap both had similar problems with their split form, but while Battletrap learned to cope, Flywheels got gradually worse. They function fine in actual combat, but otherwise…

They slap themselves again.

Heatseeker frowns. "Okay, but seriously, does he get two shares or one?"

"One."

"Is that true for all Combiners, because…"

"Flywheels isn't a Combiner, they're a Duocon. One transformer in two bodies."

Heatseeker takes a closer look at them as their argument continues at a mutter. "Doesn't sound like one bot."

Slipstream shrugs. "He never said they weren't crazy."

Heatseeker flaps his arms to the side. "Yeah, 'cause that's the kinda guy I want in charge of a electron breacher."

Flywheels turns their head towards Heatseeker, hefting both of their guns. "We shoot straight." / "Both of us."

"Sure, buddy. I'm completely reassured."

Dreadwing looks thoughtful. "Breaching Unicron's interior took the combined might of Lord Megatron and Optimus Prime, as well as their most devoted followers. I am not convinced that this group will be able to replicate that feat."

Slipstream nods. "You haven't met Nova Storm or Pull yet, but you're right. We wouldn't be able to fly right to Unicron's core while he was trying to stop us. But we don't need to. Unicron's consciousness isn't there anymore. As far as we know, there isn't anything coordinating whatever's in there, and we're not in any kind of hurry. Our only objectives are, most importantly, not dying, and secondarily, making money." She shrugs. "If we see something we can't fight, we mark its location and pull back."

Dreadwing nods. "I am not familiar with Nova Storm and Pull. What are their capacities?"

"Nova Storm is a light frame flier like me. Pull is a heavy transporter. Strong, tough, and… A little slow."

"There is enough space inside parts of Unicron for aerial manoeuvring. But there are also far narrower spaces, as well as sufficient quantities of foes to swarm the larger chambers and hem in attackers." He looks around the group. "I am concerned that we are a little light-frame heavy."

Yeah, it was a blow that Munitions didn't want to take part, even after we made it clear that we could bridge him back to Cybertron after each mission. Dreadwing is a heavyweight flier and Flywheels has a middleweight ground component, but only my Pull body is a true heavyweight. Area effect attacks would be extremely dangerous… If this was a battle. And if Unicron's subsurface parasites were intelligent enough to realise that.

Fortunately, this came up in our rehearsals with Nova Storm, so Slipstream has an answer prepared. "That's so that it's easier to pull out. This isn't a war, and we're not trying to hit a specific objective. If we have to retreat early the only bad result is that we don't get paid as much."

Dreadwing bows his head slightly. "You are correct. I am… Unused to such mercenary behavior."

"And if things do go to the Pit, we just have to make sure we get the body back to Cybertron for resurrection."

Dreadwing's head comes back up, his humour noticeably worse. "And ensure that they are not infected with dark energon."

Slipstream nods sympathetically. "Yeah. Megatron personally infected most of my old team's bodies with dark energon when he tried to overrun Earth with Terrorcons, so I know how you feel."

Dreadwing nods, mollified. "I apologise for my presumption. I thought that you were making light of my loss. I should have appreciated that I was not alone in that regard."

Heatseeker waves at the price list. "What does any of that even mean?"

I glance at it myself. "That's the reward for taking part. The quantity of energon, because I assume that you want to stay fuelled and since this isn't a Decepticon operation, you don't get your expenses covered. Anything you earn after that, you can do what you like with it."

Slipstream nods. "I bought luxury accommodation with a team-sized oil bath, but I'm sure you can work out something to spend it on."

Now he looks interested. "Oh? What are the roads like around here?"

"Human labour is cheap, but they're not exactly Constructicons. It takes a lot longer to lay roads down."

"O-kay." He nods. "I'm interested." He looks at Axlegrease. "But what does the walking scrap yard bring to the table? Doesn't look that tough."

She waves a hydraulic cutting tool attachment. "I'm a salvage engineer. We're getting paid for the salvage we bring back. You don't even have a tow bar."

"I don't even want a tow bar."

"I can also work as a medic. Taking things apart is a good way of learning how they go together."

Heatseeker doesn't look impressed. "I-."

Dreadwing lays his right hand on Heatseeker's left shoulder, silencing him. "A useful combination of skills. Flywheels, have you made a decision?"

Flywheels goes quiet for a moment, then closes their eyes. Gradually, both hands come up with their thumbs raised.

Slipstream smiles. "Great. If we're all agreed, I'll talk to the others and arrange a planning session for our first journey into Unicron."

"Great!" Heatseeker turns to leave. "I'll be-."

I shake my head. "Staying here until I finish your orientation lecture. If you're going to be staying on Earth, you need to learn things about how everything here works."

He sneers at the idea. "Skew that. I'm not going to be lectured to by a squishy."

"They have fission bombs, Heatseeker." He stops. "And they will use them on you if you become a problem." And they will. By hiring Slipstream and I to deliver them, but there's no need to mention that. "I have to tell you how to behave once, then you're not my problem."

Dreadwing nods, gripping a little harder with the hand on Heatseeker's shoulder. "You will remain and you will listen."

Heatseaker turns back, shaking his hand off. "Fine. But this better be interesting."

 

[Mr Zoat]

16th April 2013
02:58 GMT -5

"This is not the entrance to the Great-Mother."

"Sure."

And what gives the game away is that it's clearly not part of the larger creature. Or exactly part of the stuff… Grafted? Onto the larger creature. Oh, some attempt has been made to match colouration and materials but it's far too close to being a normal Dominion hangar door for me to mistake it for a part of… This. Hiding it this close to the Mother Star's mouth was a clever move, because that's something that anyone who's had anything to do with Star Conquerors will instinctively avoid.

I watch as more of the glass ball creatures swim out from the modified Star Conqueror ducts. I'm not sure exactly what they're doing. Something to do with encouraging the growth of the new flesh?

"They should not be being released."

"Oh?"

"They are wrong, altered. They should be dismantled, their errors studied and avoided in future."

Fortunately, there doesn't seem to be a review process for whatever 'safe' signal we're sending out. Which hopefully means that this is a small operation by a small number of dominators.

"Look… What do you want for your mother?"

"I do not want for Great-Mother. She wanted for us. Then the aliens came. Now she wants for them."

"Okay, you seem like a dutiful son. What sort of life does Great Mother want for herself?"

"I do not know. I know that my function was to absorb and convey data, and that that is what she wants from me and for me."

"Is there something that she wants from and for other members of your family?"

"She wants to find someone to sire a daughter. Our sister would then leave and fly into The Great-Black-Outside-That-Is-Everything."

"Is that more or less likely to happen with the aliens in command of her?"

"…" He wiggles a little. "Less… Likely..?"

"You don't sound very confident in that answer."

"I am not made for this."

"But you can learn new skills, right?"

"I… Can learn."

"And if it helped your Great Mother go back to doing the things she wanted to do before the aliens altered her..?"

The glass ball trembles for a moment.

"Is that something that you-?"

"It must be."

"Okay, good. So are you-?"

He space-swims towards the hangar door, lights inside him flickering.

"Hey, is it just me, or-" I turn towards Bleez's ship. "-is he… Kinda like..?"

"A space sperm, yes. I don't know whether he actually is or not, but there are only so many ways to build biological structures."

"So… Queen Hyathis didn't build this?"

"No, of course not. I have a good relationship with Queen Hyathis. If she wanted something from me, she'd just ask for it. Or-. Heck, she had to be invited to Thanagar, didn't she."

"… I mean… Yeah…"

"Even if she wanted to demand something with menaces, well… She did cure the Equality Plague. She could have just kept the equalised thanagarians as serfs. And she's… Busy in Antares right now."

"Are you sure?"

"Unlike you, I can just go there. She's… Consolidating."

"Consolidating, like..? She's rebuilding her forces after an attack..?"

"No, 'consolidating' like she just-." Um. "After she won a battle."

I should not be talking to a Thanagarian Empire intelligence asset about how Antares is now firmly under her control and they're next. I don't… I'm not sure exactly what I want out of that situation, but I doubt that…

"Was it a big battle? Because they have a lot of battles in Antares. It's sort of why we didn't want her as our queen."

Oh, I don't know. They know where she is. I'd be astonished if they didn't have at least a rough idea about what she's doing. So… Does telling her just mean that I don't irritate the Thanagarian government? Imply that I'm not backing her?

"It looked like a pretty big battle, but I can't say I'm an expert in the Antares War. By Reach standards it was barely a skirmish."

"Huh. Yeah, probably just the usual back and forth." The hangar doesn't open, but the… 'Space sperm' swims around to a side entrance and vanishes. "Has he just dumped us?"

"No. I felt his genuine desire. He'll be back. Ah, I've been meaning to ask; now that the Yellow Lantern who was stalking you has been disciplined, are you planning on hanging around? I'm happy to have you of course, but the Earth isn't really at its best right now and no one's really in a concert mood."

"I just… Really want to make sure."

"Fair enough. I-" The hangar door shudders for a moment, then opens at the standard rate. "-think we're in."

It's not that I don't think that Sinestro will keep his word. It's that I don't think that his recruitment tactics will result in him getting well-disciplined Lanterns, and one lacking the foresight to realise that his boss wasn't joking could cause Bleez real trouble.

The inside is… Ah, they've gone with the space-airlock design. Practical, and far easier to hide than a synthetic environmental barrier. The interior of the lock looks like it was cut through the Mother Star's body, and I can see where veins and arteries have been cauterised or blocked while the muscle and fat has been left bare. I suppose that it doesn't have to worry about rotting, exactly, though it's interesting that this part isn't being consumed by whatever's replacing the top side.

"Ew."

Bleez pilots her ship into the opening, and I follow her.

"I will never complain about Thanagarian Empire ship decoration again. Did they just cut a hole in this thing?"

"Looks like." The exterior door begins closing behind us, and I note that there's no interior lighting. I can still see fine and I'm sure that Bleez's ship has some sort of augmented vision system, but it's unusual by human standards. "Does your ship have shields?"

"Basic ones. I could just have waited outside."

"No, I can't mark two locations as friendly. If it comes to a fight, just keep out of the way or abandon your ship as a distraction. I can fly you back once we're done."

"That's what I was planning."

Then the interior door opens, and I see the dominator ship.

 

[Mr Zoat]

16th April 2013
03:02 GMT -5

It's a uniform sandy brown in colour, the habitation unit at the front a large egg-shape, one shared with the sealed arcologies of their homeworld. It will contain the laboratory, communications centre, quarters and… Hm, it's not a huge vessel, so they probably aren't bothering with internal segregation, which means that the galley is either for everyone or they've automated the ship's mundane functions. The habitation unit is clamped to the long oblong engineering module, which contains the drives, generator and either bunks for the low caste members of crew or charge points for the robots.

In their ideal universe, the high caste would be able to complete their mission without interacting with or even seeing their social inferiors.

Gunnery… Light. Some small energy mounts on the engineering portion of the ship, almost certainly automated and currently retracted into their protective cowling. There might be something in the forward section, but that seems unlikely. A vessel of this size doesn't have the generator capacity for one of the Dominion's 'fun' guns, and it doesn't have the internal volume to retract it. But now I look…

I… Think that's a heavy tractor beam. It can sort of be used as a weapon, but the tractor field won't form around large ships and all it does to small ships is hold them in place. But if they had to bring Great Mother here… Yes, that would make sense. It also gives me some idea of her likely mass; quite a bit bigger than the Dominion ship, and relatively solid. I'm not seeing any stealth technology that might explain how they avoided detection by our sensor arrays, but that should be well within the abilities of the Dominion.

"So… Who are they?"

"It's a Dominion ship. And it looks modern enough that they wouldn't have sold it to another species to use."

Hm. Yes, I'll have to risk it. I turn up my empathic vision-. And wince at the confusing feedback I'm getting from all around me, from the structure of the Mother Star itself.

U-ugh.

But… As far as I can tell, there's no one on board. Can't see through the walls here due to… I don't even know what that is. Some sort of echo of the Mother Star's incomprehensible desires? Something to do with the way its little patch of the Dream is collapsing… If it's even collapsing. I mean, it's not impossible that the Mother Star's soul is being pulled into the Dream due to it having such a big presence there anyway.

"Is it safe?"

"'Safe' is a very relative word." But knowing what those guns do, and the fact that they're currently powered down… "Assuming that you were just up against that ship, you should be able to keep out of its fire arcs or run."

"Ah, I'm a qualified pilot, not a military pilot. I know what an arc of fire is but I've got no idea how to keep out of one in a fight."

"The guns are on the long section at the back. Immediately in front of the ship or immediately behind it are out of its arcs of fire, though if you go too low at the front it can pick you up with its tractor beam."

"No, I mean, physically. I don't have those skills."

"It's amazing what you can learn to do-" I cautiously start flying into the docking bay, monitoring all directions with my rings and armour sensors. "-really quickly when someone's shooting at you."

Bleez activates her ship's thrusters, and… Takes me literally, flying over to just behind the Dominion ship's primary sublight drive. A little close, actually. If her shields and armour aren't good she's going to get kzinti lessoned if they get underway. Not from exhaust, but from the gravity distortion the dominators use to fly around.

Right, where-

The space sperm emerges from a cleft in the wall and swims over to us.

-next?

"The passageway is too small for your male."

I frown for a moment. "My male?"

"The grey featureless male that accompanied you."

"That's not a male. That's a ship. Like…" I point to the Dominion ship. "That."

"There is someone inside?"

"Yes."

"That is very strange. Can they leave?"

"Would staying here be safe?"

"With the Great-Mother altered, I do not think that anywhere is safe, even for me. Her mind is alien-altered."

"Bleez? Up to you, but I have to go on."

"Ugh. Yeah, I-. I'll get out. Can you make me a force field generator or something? This suit wasn't mean for hazardous environment work."

"Certainly. I'd offer to make you armour, but if you're not used to it then it might throw off your movements."

I fly over to her ship as she wriggles out of the void exit. There is actually an atmosphere here, but it's thin and nothing I'd want to try breathing. And… Huh. No, not a kinetic barrier. That would get in the way of her flying, and dominators don't generally usually use kinetic weapons. Instead… Ah, yes, a N.E.M.O. personal force field should work… Ah, strapped to her waist as part of her belt. Enter physical parameters so that it doesn't burn her wings off or something… Good.

She glances down at it, running her fingers over the casing. "What's it good for?"

"You saw the guns on their ship?"

"Y-es..?"

"Most of one hit. Then it will be completely overloaded and need to be replaced. If there are Dominion marines here it will probably take about four shots before failing, and it will come back up after about a minute. Don't get hit if you can avoid it."

"Overloaded-. Sure, but what happens to me?"

"Painful but non-crippling burns to whatever part of the body it hit. Possibly including blindness if it hit your head. But I already know what you look like in perfect health so fixing you afterwards won't be a problem."

"You know, I think one of the things I could learn real fast is how to wear armour?"

I shake my head. "Your best defence is avoiding being hit, and we don't have time for you to train how to use it."

"Not a problem if it was Nth metal. Thanagarians wear that like skin."

"Ah, sorry, but last time I made Nth metal I was having a psychotic episode. I can.. try again once we're finished here, but… It.. wouldn't be a good idea in a situation that calls for good judgement."

"If it's what I've got…" She looks around. "Where next?"

I turn to the ball. "Alright, we need to know where the aliens are, where Great Mother is and where Swamp Thing and Good Gumbo Man are."

"Who is Swamp Thing?"

"Plant elemental. Usually takes control of a bundle of plants to make a body for himself. Good Gumbo Man is similar, but older and slower."

"Oh. You mean grandfather."

 

[Mr Zoat]

16th April 2013
03:06 GMT -5

…

"I'm sorry, 'grandfather'?"

"The Great-Mother of Great-Mother harvested material from him to guide the creation of Great-Mother and of my uncles. Therefore, he is my grandfather. From him we derive the ability to manipulate certain forms of organic life as we might guide Great-Mother's flesh."

He never mentioned that to me. I mean, okay, there's no obvious reason why he would. I know that he'd left Earth before…

"This way."

He float-swims off towards a side… Passage, the door blocking access clearly Dominion style surrounded by Mother Star flesh. I don't detect any particular signal, but it opens when he approaches and remains open as Bleez and I fly through after him.

Bleez shakes her head. "I don't get it. I could get some kind of living ship getting another living ship pregnant, okay? And I guess one kind of magic plant could get another magic plant pregnant, so… Maybe we could use your guy to distract Hyathis or something?"

"Hyathis has already been to Earth and showed no interest in that sort of thing."

"But how does a plant-guy and a ship-woman make a space-sperm?"

"I imagine that she incorporated parts of his design inside her own mutable structure, or… Parts of his mental set-up in their neural pathways. Sexual reproduction isn't the only form of reproduction."

"Grandfather was vivisected while fully conscious, his brain and other organs removed and processed for data. We were surprised that he was still alive."

"… Vivisected?"

"Great-Mother of Great-Mother loved him greatly."

We.. both back off slightly as he continues down the corridor, the sides… I think we're in some sort of internal structure that's been… Cleared out. They're flatter than the entryway, with a slightly rough texture that…

I.. think there are vines growing beneath the surface. Or… On the other side of the membrane.

"That's not how love works."

"He made a body from her flesh, she used it to create new life. They were as close as two beings can be. Integrated and iterated. What else is love?" He sort of waves in the air. Regret? His emotions aren't easy to parse. "I thought that perhaps the aliens had led Great-Mother here so that she could make a daughter with the meat star. But it was dead, and echoes cannot love."

Bleez looks at me, but I'm not really sure what she's hoping that I'll say. Clearly something. Perhaps if we move on to less disturbing subjects.

"What are the aliens using Swamp Thing and Good Gumbo Man for?"

"The plants dream in the Green, dream of being plants. Great-Mother dreams the plant dream in the Green, but dreams of being Great-Mother."

Alien starship lucid dreaming in the Green. That… Could be worse than the Mother Star heading for Earth.

"But she is not of the Green. She could not move it. But the dead meat star has many dreams, and grandfather dreams of Green and meat."

Oh dear.

"What?"

"Ah, rough translation? The Mother Star has enough of a presence in the Dream for magic to happen and the unreal to become real. You know how those robot arms didn't look like they were coming from anywhere and just reappeared when I destroyed them?"

"Yes? Do you mean they weren't real?"

"I mean that around here that's not much of a distinction. The sort of growth that's happening here isn't natural. The Mother Star can exist at this size through a combination of psionics and Dream manipulation. The ball's mother is using the Elementals to Dream more of herself into being at the dominators' direction."

There's a branch in the corridor and the ball leads up… Upwards and inwards… I think towards where the eye orbit was?

She stares at me. "What?"

Yes, alright, if you're not familiar with the Dream that was probably a bit much. "Elementals power enslaved machine bad?"

"No, I understood all the words, I just-. This is normal here, isn't it?"

"Basically, yes. The number one reason why the Thanagarian Empire shouldn't ever conquer Earth isn't that it would be hard, it's that they'd have to deal with this stuff." Ugh. "Okay, so if your mother is as enmeshed in the Dream as I think that she'd need to be for that to work, how do we get her out?"

"Her mating instinct is very strong."

"Not it."

Bleez puffs her wings out slightly. "Huh?"

"It is stronger than the alien's programming. If a good mate was available, I think that she could leave the Dream while you dealt with the other matters."

"Wait, me?! No no. Thanagarians don't mate by vivisection! You're the one with the magic powers!"

"Black humour, Bleez. I doubt you're her type. Okay, ball? I need you to take us to somewhere with fungal structures."

"There are fungal structures in the alien's workshop. It is ahead of us."

Bleez makes a sort of chirping noise as her wing tips droop a little. "Because your construct thing can use that to make a body."

"Just so. I don't know if Gary is her thing, but I'd rather try him followed by my own Dream manipulation techniques rather than offer someone up to the libidinous alien spaceship monster. Ball, what do you think?"

"Great-Mothers are usually fairly picky. We sons are not."

"Well, we'll try it and see what happens. So, we pull her out of it-. Are the aliens controlling her with a particular device, or have they altered her entire body?"

"A device of the Green."

A Dominion computer? Current generation? I'll take that.

"And how are they keeping Swamp Thing and Good Gumbo Man contained?"

"Great-Mother copied the devices of her Great-Mother, that she used to contain grandfather. The aliens knew that she has that capacity."

"Right-oh. Does your great mother have any weapons?"

"Some. Why?"

"I think it might be best if we destroyed the remains of the Mother Star. I didn't bother before because I thought it made sense to treat it as a grave site, but if this sort of thing can happen…"

"The Great-Mother may help." We arrive at another door, this one clearly plant-based. "Here. This is where the Grey traces are."

"Alright, let's-."

The door opens, and it looks like the dominators prefer open-plan laboratories.

 

[Mr Zoat]

22nd June 2014
17:34 GMT +5:30

"…interesting context to what I had seen."

The doors slide open as Slipstream and Dreadwing stroll through, Slipstream nodding.

"That's what he's here for. You should ask him about anything that you don't understand, especially if you're planning on staying long term."

She walks over to the dispensary and presses the button to pour out a mug of energon.

"Want one?"

"Yes. Thank you."

Axlegrease moves her face between them and Pull's face. "Lift your left."

I raise my left arm as she applies her probes. Shockwave was able to provide our base's datacore with this body's fake schematics, but Axlegrease wants to get her own readings. With transformers having been at war for longer than recorded human history, most transformers aren't exactly factory standard as field repair upon field repair build up in the t-cog's memory. It doesn't really matter; since a shot to the spark case would kill a normal transformer and a shot to the brain module would kill me, there's no reason to allow her access to those systems. Arms, legs and t-cog on the other hand are systems that it will help a lot if she can repair them.

"Down, and lift your right."

I comply as Slipstream and Dreadwing head over to the waiting area, joining Nova Storm who refused to allow Axlegrease to work on her unless she saw her working on me first.

Dreadwing looks her over for a minute. "Nova Storm."

"Dreadwing." She maintains his gaze as if she was planning on saying something else… Then turns away and takes a swig from her own mug.

Dreadwing watches her for a moment as Slipstream sits down, then takes his own seat opposite her.

"It is a difficult adjustment."

Nova Storm shakes her head. "It tastes the same to me."

"Not being dead." She focuses on him, and he tilts his head slightly to the right, his free right hand going to the place on his chest where Megatron's shot burned through his entire chassis. "Were you not told?"

"Huh." Nova Storm glances at Slipstream, who just shrugs. "No."

"Down, left leg."

"Starscream, the one who infected my twin with dark energon, lay cowering before me. Had I been swifter with my blade then I would have finally extinguished his worthless spark. Instead, I wasted time grandstanding, and Megatron…"

"You got killed by Megatron?"

Dreadwing nods. "A not uncommon fate for Decepticons who failed to live up to his expectations. In my case, my unwillingness to put Starscream's usefulness ahead of the insult he dealt to my brother."

Nova Storm… Locks up, slight twitches-.

"Did you see it too?"

"That depends on what you are referring to. If you are talking about the All-Spark, then… I believe so. My memories are… Confused. I could not feel my own body, but I felt the presence of others… And even though I could not speak to them, their presence was… Comforting."

His eyes dip.

"But I did not feel my brother. Perhaps that is because I was not there long enough, and our shared spark would have eventually drawn us together. I do not know."

"Down. Right leg."

"I… Did." Dreadwing stares-. "Not-" She shakes her head. "-your brother. Other people I knew. Bright Spot. Low Charge. Shift Vector. A few others I only knew by sight. I couldn't… Talk to them, but I could feel them."

"Including your team mates?" She nods. "I assume that their bodies were corrupted by Megatron?"

"I think so. I haven't been brave enough to check."

"I think that you should. I intend to cleanse my brother's remains once I am finished here."

Nova Storm looks disturbed. "They just left them here?"

He nods solemnly. "He was left trapped in some form of shadow dimension as a result of a ground bridge malfunction, still animated by the dark energon which Starscream introduced into his system. It was profoundly disrespectful."

"Megatron wasn't exactly shy about using dark energon." The fingers of her right hand ball into a fist. "If he hadn't infected everyone he could find on Cybertron-. He could just have used it on Autobots!"

Dreadwing nods. "Then you could have regained your entire team."

"Down. Whole body." I rotate my head slowly towards her, keeping Pull's face blank. "You're done. I have my scans. Go."

I turn Pull's head to look at the screen behind her, which is showing an exploded view of Pull's components, and… What looks like a diagram of how they could be used to augment her. She follows my gaze and realises what I'm looking at.

"No sense in wasting parts. The Last Autobot doesn't need all of you to resurrect you. If attaching your armour to my chassis allows me to drag your core components out, isn't that better than leaving you there? And shouldn't I know how to make the attachment in advance?"

I make Pull's eyes blink slowly. "Yes?"

"Hm." She presses a button and the salvage diagram vanishes. "From the mouth of sparklings."

"I am not a sparkling, Doctor."

"And I'm not a Doctor, sparkling. Go, get out." She turns to the waiting area. "Nova Storm, you're next."

With slow and awkward motions I have Pull rise from the bier and then walk towards the waiting area, Nova Storm passing me in the opposite direction. I stop in front of Dreadwing, looking blankly down at him.

"And you are Pull."

I turn Pull's head towards Slipstream, who smiles and gestures at Dreadwing. I then turn Pull's head back towards him. "Hello."

I then walk over to Slipstream and sit down heavily on the floor besides her. She affects a mildly exasperated expression and pats me gently on the head. "He tries."

"Ah." Dreadwing reassesses Pull's appearance. "But his combat function is not impaired?"

"Not even a little." Slipstream leans forwards, drawing his attention to her. "So that's what you're here for? Your brother's funeral?"

"No, not simply that. His spark was not there, in the All-Spark. And if it is not there, where is it?"

"I don't know."

"Nova Storm said that her team mates were there, even after Megatron corrupted their bodies. My brother must be somewhere! I have accepted his death, but I will not accept his damnation."

"And…" Slipstream's eyes widen. "You think he ended up in Unicron?"

"I do not know. But it is the most obvious place to begin my search, and I will not serve under Megatron again. I will work here loyally for however long it takes to make sure that Skyquake's spark can return to the All-Spark."

Slipstream smiles. "Glad to know that you're motivated. Welcome onboard, Dreadwing."