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

[Mr Zoat]

30th April 2013
10:56 GMT

Lantern Natu looks at me askance. "I could do that myself."

I nod as the first of the replacement bodies is carefully removed from the bio-printer.

"As could I, and Lantern Nax, and… A few others."

She returns her attention to the brain tanks. "Is this supposed to be a lesson in self control?"

"No. This is a lesson in how to bio-print replacement bodies and install brains. We cannot guarantee that there will always be Lanterns around with the right mindset, so we have to make sure that there's a non-Lantern solution available."

"So we just leave them there while we practice?"

"They're sedated. They're… Dreaming at worst. More likely they're-."

"Having the worst possible nightmares because their mentors cut their brains out."

"No, I had the Atlanteans make some dreamcatchers. I doubt that their thoughts are going to be pleasant, but they-" She frowns at me. "-aren't going to have nightmares."

"'Dreamcatchers'? You mean those bits of netting?"

"Yes. I usually use the opposite, but they're quite efficacious." I smile at her. "I know that finding out that-."

"How do they work?"

"If you want precise details, you'll need to speak to the wizards. Broadly, a nightmare is a sort of… Bad magical trip, where your mind connects to the realm of dreams and pulls all sorts of cruel creatures and negative narrative strands to expand an uncomfortable throught into something really nasty. Dreamcatchers filter the connection to the Dream so that the… Lure, if you like, can't go out."

I sigh quietly.

"Of course, sometimes, having a nightmare is a good idea, but I'll refer you to the goddess Melinoë if you want to have that discussion."

"I think they've had enough nightmares."

I nod. Threllian is going over the data the Darkstars recovered from the town. He wanted to help with the re-bodying, but I convinced him that his own feelings about the Reach might result in him inadvertently altering their minds, and he-. Very much wants to avoid doing that.

"What about the rest?"

"The Scarabs? Not much we can do for them. I mean, if we get very lucky-."

"No. The-. That wasn't their original homeworld, was it?"

"No."

"So there's nothing to stop the Reach cloning them again."

"Probably not. And when I feel it I'll take a look, but they'll probably fortify it better next time." I sigh again. "But they have to give them some sort of upbringing or their brains don't develop properly. We've bought a decade… Maybe a bit longer."

She nods slowly. "I can't get my head around this kind of evil."

"Oh? Nothing like this is Korugar's history?"

"Sure, but-. The people who did experiments on people-. They were some of the most evil people my world ever produced. When they were… Working for a government, they had to keep what they were doing secret, because it would have caused riots. And when crazy.. murderers did it on their own, the moment they were found out…"

"So you're asking why everyone in the Reach is fine with it, to the point where random cargo handlers know exactly what's going on?"

"They opened two continents for settlement. They didn't care which of their people found out about it."

"Lantern Natu, when I told you that the Reach were evil, what did you think I meant by that?"

"I.. thought they would be brutal expansionist militarists who ran a police state. And then I read the briefing documents, but I thought they might be.. exaggerated. And then the Darkstars started sending me examples of Reach biotech from.. liberated worlds, or N.E.M.O. members who were fighting off their infiltration attempts, and… I don't… Understand how they… Became this."

"Pass. Next question." I shrug. "We don't have good records until just before the start of their war with the Green Lantern Corps. I honestly can't tell you how they became the way they are. My best guess is that they used genetic engineering to change the way they socialise, but that's an educated guess at best. Feel free to go archive-diving if you want to try to find out."

"There must be… Some records of what they were like. If they can cooperate with each other they must have had normal social instincts at one time."

"The Spider Guild doesn't have any moral problem with eating people, and they can cooperate with each other. You shouldn't assume that just because a lot of intelligences share certain characteristics that we all do."

"What about records?"

"Everywhere that had records of the pre-expansionist Reach has long since been subsumed, and in most cases their populations eradicated. The Reach themselves might have copies somewhere, but we've never found them."

"What about the Green Lantern Corps?"

"Didn't bother keeping detailed records that far back. Border locations, yes, laws, yes. Minor points of sociology or biology? Not unless the local Lanterns made records themselves." She looks slightly dubious again. "It's a big universe."

Checks finished, the empty-skulled body is wheeled into the chirurgical suite while the printer starts work on the next one.

"I'm going to try. Try finding out about their history. I just.. need to know."

I nod. "Then I'll wish you the best of luck. I -on the other hand- am clocking off." I raise my right hand to my forehead. "Let me know if they need me, or if you actually find something."

"I will."

I

step out, looking for

Mr van Wyck, whose head jerks up as I appear- "Oh." -and then returns to the door to Controller Jevek's workshop.

"Any news?"

"No. The Controller thinks it probably possible to get them up again, but it's not easy. Making…"

"Making more is easier and fulfils the same strategic necessity."

"Something like that."

"Can you do anything to help them recover?" He frowns, shaking his head. "In that case, the surviving Darkstars and I were going to have dinner. Do you and your people want to come as well? There's some… Great restaurants on Maltus?"

He thinks for a moment, then hesitantly nods. "I don't know about the others. But I will. Thanks."

 

[Mr Zoat]

25th December 2282
13:08 GMT -6

As far as I know, the Eighties don't celebrate Christmas. No presents, no trees, no carolling and no prayers. But they do mark the 25th of December with a motor parade, followed by a communal feast.

I'm looking down at the parade now.

It's been decades since Warchief Super Bee fled Sac City ahead of the Shady Sands/Redding/Boneyard army. Most N.C.R. textbooks refer to it as the N.C.R. Army, but the N.C.R. Constitution hadn't been signed yet, even if it was clear to all parties that it was inevitably going to be. A large, technologically sophisticated band of raiders squatting on the N.C.R.'s neck couldn't be tolerated, so they had to go.

Unfortunately, and perhaps also inevitably, the attack was poorly planned. The various city states had armies made up almost exclusively of light infantry. The Lost Hills Brotherhood weren't involving themselves and the Desert Rangers were still trying to hold Arizona. Against a raider army which was mostly driving cars and trucks and even had a few restored tanks, they could gradually grind them down but weren't able to prevent a breakout. Thousands of heavily armed Eighties drove towards New Reno and then Vault City, committing brigandage and enslavement wherever they went.

And they finally set up shop here, in Wendover, where they built their new home, conquered some of the weaker proto-nations and then sat here menacingly. Eastport aside none of them are places the N.C.R. cares about, and since Eastport's conquest has mostly just resulted in them paying the Eighties proper to leave them alone it's not really a pressing concern.

Until they started talking to Wyatt. So now it's time for hardball.

The parade is going slow, Thunderbird taking time to wave at his admirers and toss bottle caps into the crowd. Other luminaries drive just behind him, engines revving, drivers and passengers having shouted exchanges with one another and the crowd. Behind that… Tanks. Not final generation American army tanks, but certainly more advanced than anything fielded during World War Two. I'm a little concerned that they're a novel design rather than just a copy of the Abrams or something, because that indicates a level of technological skill that we didn't think they had.

There, in the second rank. That's Wyatt. So at least I know where he is.

Behind the tanks are trucks and cars, all heavily customised. Some trucks are modified with armoured plates and welded-on machine guns. Others have rocket launchers or anti-air guns mounted on the back, and one has what looks like a ludicrously oversized flamethrower. Eighties tribesmen standing in the transport vehicles are shouting and waving at the crowd…

Some of the trucks have bound slaves instead. I spot a few heavily worn vault suits amongst Canaanite cotton and leather and patched pre-War clothing that could have come from just about anywhere. **[I reach out]** but I don't feel any Sky Reavers or Sky Walkers down there. That's not surprising; we only got a border with Eighties-controlled territory fairly recently and they don't have much of a presence near us.

**A song? A song!**

My eyes widen as I do hear a telepathic voice, and…

**Will it join us? Will it sing to the hole in the sky? The chorus is so quiet now.**

That's a Crimson Acolyte. I didn't think they'd all died, but I'm going to need to get on that.

But first things first. Stealth field off, acceleration increased, Ride of the Valkyries on external speakers, prepare to launch flares and skim!

My saucer zooms through the air towards the back of the convoy, burning magnesium flying from the air like falling stars all around me. Some of the people below duck or scrabble for their guns, while others shout and cheer.

All part of the fun.

I pull up, go nose up, spin and then aileron roll into a drop back onto the parade. At the point Thunderbird has brought the slow-moving convoy to a halt and is standing in his seat to watch me. He isn't laughing. And neither is Wyatt.

I level out, put the saucer into a plate spin and fire off a new round of flares as I drift towards the front of the convoy using the anti-gravity system and my momentum. The leadership all have guns in their hands, though they're all trying to conceal it at least a little. I stop the spin just as I pass Thunderbird, dropping to just above the ground and popping the canopy.

"War Chief Thunderbird. Merry Christmas."

His eyes narrow slightly as he gazes into mine. "Chief Krono. Surprised you're here now. Not surprised you came."

"Then you know why I'm here." I raise my right hand in greeting. "Wyatt."

Wyatt guns the engine on his… Bike.. chariot thing, and pulls up level with Thunderbird. Normally that would be an insult, but he needs to be involved in this talk. "Krono. Nice ride. Build it yourself?"

One of the slow-on-the-uptake lieutenants in one of the cars behind them make an ooooh noise. Suggesting that a man can't work on his own car is a pretty serious insult both amongst the Eighties and in Two Sun. Fortunately, I can repair most of the systems in a saucer. It wouldn't be safe for me to fly on my own if I couldn't.

"Did some work. What happened to your car?"

He waves his right hand dismissively. "I drive it all the time. This is a parade."

"That thing's going to have rarity value, soon. So." I turn back to Thunderbird. "Reason I'm here. The Legion's going to be dead soon. The N.C.R. wants to talk to you about the future."

"Ain't nothing to talk about. I-Eighty is ours. Republic might beat the Legion, but then their army is going to be spread out all over the desert. No dice."

"The N.C.R. will offer to normalise relations and recognise your ownership of your current territory. They will grant you the right to travel the I-Eighty in their territory as you please, subject to their laws. And they will agree to begin making repairs to the road, with the aim of restoring it to its original state." He looks mildly intrigued by the last point, and unmoved by the rest. "You could even visit Sac City again."

"So I can visit my own home. Nice. And what else?"

"You release your slaves and prohibit slavery."

His eyes widen in surprise, then he chuckles. "I meant for me. For us. But that's it? Not even a truck load of caps? Nothing?"

I nod. "Nothing. Can I have a quick answer? I'm having the in-laws over."

"Get outa here, psyker. Stop wasting my time."

I shrug. "As you wish."

And then I sit back down in the cockpit, close the canopy and accelerate directly upwards.

Activate target designator. Open channel to vertibird air wing. Lock on to the lead cars, anti-air trucks and significant concentrations of armed men.

"Targets received, missiles away."

I watch as Thunderbird frowns at the sudden increase in illumination. And then I smile as Helios fires a giant burning beam down from orbit, completely obliterating him, his car, and most of the Eighties leadership! Missiles begin slamming into cars a moment later, fuel detonating, fragments of destroyed vehicle scything through anyone nearly!

Then I switch on my own guns, pulses of energy precisely striking anyone who even looks at the slave trucks. I designate a new batch of targets as the people manning the few fixed anti-air guns in Wendover work out that they're being attacked, and only a handful of hopeful shots are fired before the second wave of missiles silences those as well.

As this point everyone who can run is running, crowds and militia alive fleeing for cover. Some try to drive away, but with the wrecks blocking the road a good many are forced to abandon their vehicles and flee on foot.

My Christmas present and bride-price to my father-in-law: the rest of Utah.

"Convoy destroyed. Bring in the transports."

 

[Mr Zoat]

Working Relationship

April 18th, 2013
Morning

"Mitchell?"

My youngest/eldest grandson looks up from the scroll he's studying, distinctively black eyes alighting on my face for a moment before his mouth remembers to smile. He isn't a naturally sombre youth in the way that his brother is, but he is a good deal more nervous. I once asked Pavlos why -after appropriately bracing myself- and he said that it was because he reached his present physical maturity without the years of experience that a normal person would have. And as a consequence Mitchell doesn't have the instincts for social situations that other adults have.

I remember the conversation well, because he then paid me a rare compliment. He commended my wisdom in crafting Diana as a babe, rather than as a maiden. Honesty compelled me to tell him that not making her a babe never crossed my mind, which caused him to smile roguishly and exclaim that I made the decision by wise and well-honed instinct.

"Grandma?"

His eyes move from me to the scroll, and for a moment I wonder if he's found once of those scrolls. Much as I might wish it otherwise, Amazon erotica is.. generating a rather large part of our foreign currency income at the moment, and I'm not sure if it's due to the quality or the novelty. But, no, or at least not directly. It's Hippasia's work on familial relationships. I remember it well, because I was there when the knife-marks which repeats every few inches were made. Hippasia was a Discordian, and thankfully one of the ones who left for the mainland rather than one of those who sacrificed themselves. She entered the cult with that scroll; decrying the female group family structure and calling for a change to what Diana calls 'the nuclear family'. It was ridiculous; she was born on Themyscira. She'd never even seen one.

"What are you studying?"

"Families."

He answers in a relaxed frame of mind, but I see it in his face as he realises that I might be offended by what he said and begins to try to ward off my anger.

"I-. I mean-."

I take the bench next to him, then reach out to put my hand on his arm.

"It's alright, Mitchell. Calm yourself."

Gratifyingly, he does.

"It's-. Amazons have… Mothers."

"And we have fathers. They did not used to play a large role in our lives beyond our conception, but we-. Until Pavlos involved himself, every Amazon knew that she had a father and most knew who he was."

"But if they didn't have anything to do with… Ah, being a father, how come they all know?"

"To… Avoid incestuous pairings later in life."

"Oh. Ah, right." He frowns, his eyes avoiding me for a moment before alighting on where my hand remains on his forearm. Then he lifts his eyes to me. "Did..? You have any brothers?"

"No. At least, I do not believe so. For a very long time I believed that I was my mother's only child. Then Pavlos brought me word of Astarte. I suppose the fact that my memory was altered means that I may well have had other brothers or sisters than I no longer remember." I asked him to show me a picture of her face, in the hopes that it might stir my memories. It did not, though I could not deny the family resemblance.

"And your dad?"

"Ares."

He nods. "What kind of.. relationship do you have with him?"

"Ares has always been an unwelcome presence in my life. I have spoken to him directly on only a handful of occasions, and then it was to reject any of the plans he had made for me or for Diana."

"Because they were..? Um, bad? Or because fathers don't do that in Amazon culture?"

"Because they were bad." I sigh as I call the scene to mind. "He wanted me to carry on my mother's work. To continue her wars, her slaughter and subjugations. He was very unhappy that I didn't want to."

"Was he..? More unhappy because you were his daughter, or..? Do you think he'd have been unhappy anyway."

"Having me as a daughter was a point of ego for him. He was more unhappy because someone he saw as an extension of himself wasn't doing what he wanted them to." I shake my head. "He bears no love for me, and I bear none for him."

"Do you think..?"

And I watch as his fears and uncertainties defeat him, and his eyes go back to the scroll as his mouth refuses to continue.

"Do I think what, Mitchell?" I pat his arm. "I won't be angry."

"Do you think..? You could have had a relationship with him? Maybe… If you'd fought… I don't know, big monsters or something? Would he have been okay with that?"

"Ares is not Athena, Mitchell. Ares stands for the most brutal slaughters. Morals, goals, even martial skill, are second to the slaughter and to humans becoming savage monsters. That is what he revels in."

"You don't think he could meet you halfway?"

"Would you accept a sword that would only cut the skin of your enemy?"

He nods. "Yes? That sounds really useful. You'd never have to worry about causing an internal injury by mistake. And if you were sparring-."

I pat his arm, and he stops talking. "Would Ares?"

"I guess not. So it was just… Be exactly what he wants you to be, or he didn't want to know."

"No, he knew. He took it as a personal insult. I would say that we have a worse relationship than the one he has with Amazons who are not his daughter."

Though still better than the one the Heraklya have with their father. But I don't understand why Mitchell is so concerned.

"I thought that you and Conner had a better relationship with Clark now. Has something happened?"

"No!" Mitchell emphatically shakes his head. "He's great! I was thinking about our other father."

…

"Lex Luthor?" He nods. "I thought that he was your brother's father, but not yours."

He shrugs. "He had me made. I don't have any of his genetics… I mean, I guess my father is Jor-El. But I can't talk to him."

I take a moment within my head to hypocritically chastise my daughter's reticence in the field of romance.

"Do you want to talk to Lex Luthor?"

"I don't know? I know he's… A criminal, and he made me so that he'd have a weapon to use against Superman, and there's… Basically no chance. But Paul tried to.. persuade him to stop being evil, and he thought he nearly had it."

"Pavlos… Is a remarkable young man, but I have know his judgements at time to be a… A little…"

"Weird?"

"Outlandish."

"Yeah." Mitchell nods. "But you know what he says about evildoers?"

"Which thing in particular are you thinking about?"

"You should either try and make them better… Or you should kill them so they can't hurt anyone else. Or…" He shifts awkwardly, then manages to look me in the eyes. "Get a god you know to.. hit them real hard with a giant hammer?"

I still can't stop myself smiling, though I imagine if it had happened to anyone else it would be a smile that Ares would approve of.

"It has been known to work, but I do not recommend it for you. Am I to understand then that you want to redeem your father?"

He nods. "I'd like to try."

I nod hesitantly. "I think that this is something that you should speak to your mother about."